TALLADEGA, ALABAMA.
The Story of Ambrose Headen,
AS TOLD BY HIMSELF.
I am fifty-six years old; was born in Chatham Co., N. C.; was a slave forty-three years, sixteen years in North Carolina and twenty seven in Alabama. I have lived in this county forty years. My young master in North Carolina was four years older than myself; he had nine slaves, and I was the only male. He died just before I was sixteen. When I was thirteen I went to learn the carpenter’s trade. I was taken from my mother and sent away to nurse children when I was six. I served three years at the carpenter’s bench and at that time my master died, and I had to be sold to pay his debts.
On the day appointed for the sale I went fourteen miles on foot, and alone, to the place where I was to be sold. On my way I tried to lay some plan to run away. A white woman said she would help me, and told me to go into a certain swamp and she would feed me and help me away, but I was afraid of the dogs and the men that would catch me. No one can tell my feelings on my way to the sale, but I knew I had to go. At the place of sale were 500 people come together to see me sold, and to buy me. I was the only one to be sold. I was on the block three hours while the men were bidding for me. Five of these men were speculators, and the rest were mostly people that lived in that region. While they were selling me there was a good deal of brandy drunk, and they offered me some as I was very tired standing; and I said, “No, sir, I have sorrow enough on me now without drinking that.” I was finally knocked off to a very bad man for $1,780. This man lived about thirteen miles from my old home, and when I knew that he was my master I burst into tears, heart-broken. The overseer took me behind the store and tried to stop me from crying, but I could not stop. At last, my new master said if any one would give for me as much as he had, he might have me, and a man from Alabama, who was out to North Carolina on a visit, said he would, and so I sold again to this man from Alabama, and after three months I was taken away from all my friends away down to Alabama. My new master proved to be a good man, a member of the Baptist Church, and I lived with him twenty-seven years until emancipation. One thing I forgot to tell you, and it made a deep impression on my mind: at the time I was being sold in North Carolina, a man in the crowd cried out with a loud voice, “Hell will boil and overflow at such work as this.” I never can forget that expression.
I was set free by two wills; the first one was burned, and so I was kept in slavery. Once, after I had been absent from home some time, my mistress, on my return, came rushing out to the gate and crying with a loud voice, “Oh, Ambrose, Ambrose! I had rather live in the smokiest cabin on the place, and had your master’s will done, than to be in the king’s palace,” but the will was burned and so it could not be done. The other will that set me free was made ten years before emancipation; but emancipation came before my master died, and so his will did me no good.
During all my slave life I never lost sight of freedom. It was always on my heart; it came to me like a solemn thought, and often circumstances much stimulated the desire to be free and raised great expectation of it. We slaves all knew when an Abolitionist got into Congress. We knew it when there was just one there, and we watched it all the way until there was a majority there. I don’t know hardly how we got the knowledge, but we always knew. We always called “freedom” “possum,” so as to keep the white people from knowing what we were talking about. We all understood it.
Some years before emancipation, my master signed $900 to be paid in work towards building a Baptist College where we lived. He sent me to work out his subscription. I had four children of my own, and I thought that it was hard for me to work out this $900, when I could have no privilege of educating my own children. I little thought then that my children would ever graduate at this college, but God has turned things about so that three of my children have graduated, and the fourth will graduate next June; so that when I worked out this subscription of my master, I was building a college for myself and my family. While at work on this college, I fell into a conversation with the white carpenters at work there, and they said “niggers” would do nothing “if set free.” I told them if they would take me out into the woods and strip every rag from me, and set me free, that in ten years I would school my children.
Just after emancipation my master said: “Ambrose, I want you to let Nannie stay with her mistress; she can’t do without her.” I said: “Master, I always thought that if ever I was free I would educate my children; if ’twas not for that, sir, I would accommodate you.” “Ambrose,” said he, “I hardly thought you would deny me.” I said: “I can’t do any better, sir.” With this we separated, and now all my children are good scholars; one is a minister; one has charge of an academy; I have a good house of seven rooms, and eleven acres of land about it, besides a farm of 320 acres in the country.
Nothing can illustrate the great change that has come over us, unless it is the change in passing from earth to heaven. You could see the force of this illustration if you knew our history—if you only knew the dark Egypt we have come through. I believe emancipation will work out as great things for us as it did for Israel.
When the college and the Congregational Church were planted here I joined the church, and have never been sorry for it. I love the missionary cause, and would rather give all I have than to see it go down.
I love to think of my son down in Selma preaching. There was quite a scare there about the yellow fever, and my son wrote me to know what he should do; I wrote him back, “to look to the Lord, and stand to his post.”