In
August of 1865, a Colonel P.H. Anderson of Big Spring, Tennessee, wrote to
his former slave, Jourdon Anderson, and requested that he come back to
work on his farm. Jourdon — who, since being emancipated, had moved to Ohio , found paid work, and was now
supporting his family. He responded spectacularly by way of the letter seen below.
August
7, 1865
To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know
particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing
tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and
clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs.
Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are
learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday School and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are
kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people
were slaves" down in Tennessee .
The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no
disgrace in Tennessee
to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to
be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give
me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move
back again.
As to my freedom,
which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got
my free papers in 1864 from the
Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be
afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly
and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send
us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive
old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you
faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years.
At twenty-five dollars
a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to
eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for
the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our
clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and
the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to.
Please send the money
by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton , Ohio .
If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith
in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to
the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making
us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every
Saturday night; but in Tennessee
there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and
cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer
of his hire.
In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant,
Jourdon
Anderson.
1 comment:
Thanks for writing
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