Jim, a blacksmith, about 30 years of age, was the next. He stood on the chair in front. "Now, who bids for Jim? He is an excellent blacksmith; can work on a plantation, and make his own tools; in fact, can turn his hand to anything. The title is good,"—(Is it, indeed? breathed I,)—"and he is guaranteed free from all the vices and maladies provided against by law. Who bids for him? 600 dollars bid for him —625 dollars—650 dollars," and so on to 780. "'Pon my soul, gentlemen, this is throwing the man away; he is well worth 1,200 dollars of anybody's money; 790 dollars only offered for him—going for 790 dollars;—going—once—twice—gone for 790 dollars."
The next "lot" was a family, consisting of the husband, a man slightly coloured, about 30 years of age, the wife about 25, quite black, and reminding me forcibly of an excellent woman in my own congregation, a little girl about 4 years of age, and a child in the arms. They were told to mount the platform. As they obeyed, I was attracted by a little incident, which had well nigh caused my feelings to betray me. Never shall I forget it. Parents of England, let me tell it you, and enlist your sympathies on behalf of oppressed and outraged humanity. It was that of a father helping up, by the hand, his own little girl to be exposed for sale. "Now, who bids for this family? Title good—guaranteed free from the vices and maladies provided against by law. The man is an excellent shoemaker—can turn his hand to anything,—and his wife is a very good house-servant. Who bids for the lot? 500 dollars bid for them—600 dollars—only 600 dollars—700 dollars offered for them." But the price ultimately mounted up to 1,125 dollars.—"Going for 1,125 dollars—once—twice—gone for 1,125 dollars."
The next was a black boy, 16 years of age. He mounted the chair, not the platform. "Now, gentlemen, here is an excellent ploughboy. Who bids for him? Thank you,—400 dollars bid for him—425," and so on to 550 dollars. "Why, look at him; he is a powerful-limbed boy; he will make a very large strong man." He was knocked down at 625 dollars.
"The next I have to put up, gentlemen, is a young piece of city goods—the girl Cornelia. She is 18 years of age, a good washer and ironer, but not a very good cook. She is well known in the city, and has always belonged to some of the best families." By this time Cornelia was standing upon the chair. "Now, gentlemen, who bids for this girl? She is sold for no fault, but simply for want of money. Who bids for this excellent washer and ironer?" At this moment one of the "gentlemen," standing in front of her, deliberately took his walking-stick, and, with the point of it, lifted up her clothes as high as the knee. I afterwards saw this same man walking arm-in-arm with his white wife in the street. "500 dollars offered for her—530 dollars." She went for 580.
Here let me state, once for all, that I took notes on the spot. Those around me no doubt thought I was deeply interested in the state of the slave-market, and wishful to convey the most accurate information to my slave-breeding and soul-driving correspondents at a distance. Had my real object and character been discovered, I gravely doubt whether I should have left that "great" and "free" city alive!
The next "lot" were Jim, his wife, and two children, one about three, and the other about two years of age,—all on the platform. They were said to be excellent cotton-field hands, title good, and so forth; but, somehow, there were no bidders.
A boy about ten years of age, a fine intelligent-looking little fellow, was now made to mount the chair. "Now, who bids for Tom? an excellent house-boy, a 'smart' young lad; can wait well at table—title good—guaranteed free from all the vices and maladies provided against by law. Who bids for him?" The bidding began, at 350 dollars, and ended at 425.
"I have now to put up the boy Edmund, thirty-two years of age, an excellent cotton-field hand. Who bids for the boy Edmund?" At this moment a gentleman, who, like most of those present, appeared to be a sort of speculator in slaves, stepped forward, and examined with his hands the boy's legs, especially about the ankles, just as I have seen horse-dealers do with those animals at fairs. There were, however, no bidders; and Edmund was put down again.
The next that mounted the chair was a shrewd-looking negro, about thirty-five years of age. "Now, gentlemen, who bids for Tom? He is an excellent painter and glazier, and a good cook besides; title good; sold for no fault, except that his owner had hired him at 25 dollars a month, and Tom would not work. An excellent painter and glazier, and a good cook besides. His only fault is that he has a great idea of his own reserved rights, to the neglect of those of his master." This was said with a waggish kind of a leer, as if he thought he had said a very smart thing in a very smart way. 300 dollars were first offered for him; but poor Tom went for 350. "Now, sir," said the man-seller to Tom, with a malicious look, "you'll go into the country." He was bought by one of the speculators, who no doubt would sell him again for double the amount. Tom, as he descended from the chair, gave a look which seemed to say, "I care not whither I go; but my own reserved rights shall not be forgotten!"
A girl of seventeen years of age, somewhat coloured, was the next put up. She was "an excellent washer and getter-up of linen." She was also "a tolerably good cook." But there were no bidders; and the auctioneer said, "Really, gentlemen, I have a great deal of business to do in my office: I cannot lose any more time here, as you are not disposed to bid." And so ended the exhibition.