I was now at leisure to observe that a strange noise which I had heard for some time proceeded from another auctioneer, engaged in the same line of business at the other end of the room. As I approached, I saw him with a young coloured man of about twenty-two years of age, standing on his left hand on the platform. What a sight! Two men standing together, and the one offering the other for sale to the highest bidder! In the young man's appearance there was something very good and interesting. He reminded me forcibly of an excellent young man of the same colour in my own congregation. 430 dollars were offered for him; but, as he was a good carriage driver, and worth a great deal more, only he had not had time to dress himself for the sale, being industrious, sober, and no runaway (said with significant emphasis), the bidding ran up to 660 dollars. Here one of the bidders on the auctioneer's right hand asked him something aside; to which he answered, loudly and emphatically, "Fully guaranteed in every respect;" and then said to the young man, "Turn this way, and let the gentleman see you," He was sold for 665 dollars.
The next was a very modest-looking young mulatto girl, of small features and slender frame, with a little child (apparently not more than a year old) in her arms, evidently the daughter of a white man. "Now, who bids for Margaret and her child?" Margaret! my own dear mother's name. "Margaret and her child!" What should I have been this day, if that Margaret "and her child" Ebenezer had been so treated? Who can think of his own mother, and not drop a tear of sympathy for this mother—so young, so interesting, and yet so degraded? "Now, gentlemen, who bids for Margaret and her child? She is between sixteen and seventeen years of age, and is six months gone in pregnancy of her second child: I mention the last circumstance, because you would not think it to look at her,—it is right, however, that you should know. She cooks well, sews well, washes well, and irons well. Only 545 dollars! Really, gentlemen, it's throwing the girl away; she is well worth 800 dollars of any man's money. She'll no doubt be the mother of a great many children; and that is a consideration to a purchaser who wants to raise a fine young stock. Only 545 dollars offered for her!" No higher offer being made, she was sent down,—it was no sale. Let us breathe again.
LETTER VIII.
St. Louis Exchange—Inspection of Human Chattels—Artizan
Slaves—Scenes and Proceedings of the Auction—Sale of the Men.
Finding that another slave-auction was to be held at noon next day in the St. Louis Exchange, I resolved to attend. The day was dull and dirty. "Please, sir," said I to the first man I met, "to tell me where St. Louis Exchange is?" "Don't know, sir." I walked on a little further, and tried again. "Please to direct me to St. Louis Exchange?" "Can't; but it's somewhere in that direction," pointing with his finger. "Is this the way to St. Louis Exchange?" I asked a third. "I guess it is," was the curt and characteristic reply. "How far is it?" "Three blocks further on; then turn to your right; go a little way down, and you will find it on your left." I went as directed, and came to an immense building—a kind of hotel. There were nearly a dozen entrances, all leading into one vast saloon, where I found about 200 gentlemen,—some drinking, some eating, some smoking, some reading, some talking, and all spitting. One end of the saloon was fitted up as a refreshment place, similar to those on railway stations in England. But I could see nothing like preparations for a sale.
On looking around I perceived a large door in two halves, with spring hinges, leading as it were further into the building. I pushed one half open, and found myself in a spacious circular hall,—its roof, ending in a dome, supported by a suitable number of massive columns. The floor was tastefully paved with black and white marble, and all the light came from the dome. Some 100 gentlemen were sauntering about, and now and then turning to several groupes of black people to ask them questions. This place was evidently fitted up for auctioneering purposes, and seemed peculiarly adapted for man-selling. At equal distances were a dozen elevated desks for the chief actors, each with a small platform in front for the exhibition of the articles of sale.
It was a quarter to twelve, by the clock that faced the entrance door, when I got in. Anxious to know what kind of questions were put to the slaves, I pushed myself into the knots of intending purchasers, just as if I had been one of them. The inquiries, I found, related to place of birth, subsequent removals, competency for work, and so forth. The answers presented a fearful view of the extent to which the internal slave-trade is carried on. Most of the slaves said they had been "raised" in Virginia and Kentucky. To avoid the suspicion of being a spy, I resolved to put a few questions too. I found myself at the establishment where those named in the advertisement which had drawn me thither were to be disposed of. A pile of handbills—each containing an exact copy of the advertisement, and a French translation—was lying on the platform. Taking one up, I observed the name of "Squires, a carpenter." Assuming all the confidence I could muster, I said, "Which is Squires?" "I'm here, sir." "You are a carpenter, are you not?" "Yes, sir," (with a very polite bow). "And what can you do?" "I can trim a house, sir, from top to bottom." "Can you make a panelled door?" "Yes, Sir." "Sash windows?" "Yes, sir." "A staircase?" "Yes, sir." I gave a wise and dignified nod, and passed on to another groupe. In my progress, I found by one of the platforms a middle-aged black woman, and a mulatto girl of perhaps eighteen crouching by her side. "Are you related to each other?" I said. "No, sir." "Have you lived long in the city?" I said to the younger. "About two years, sir; but I was 'raised' in South Carolina." "And why does your owner sell you?" "Because I cannot cut—she wants a cutter—I can only sew." I then returned to the groupe at platform No. 1.
The clock was striking twelve; and, before it had finished, the vast dome reverberated with the noise of half-a-dozen man-sellers bawling at once, disposing of God's images to the highest bidders. It was a terrible din. But, at our platform, business proceeded rather leisurely. Two gentlemen ascended the desk: the one of a light complexion, about fifty-five years of age, rather fat, whiskers and beard smoothly shaven off; the other, a Frenchified-looking young man, about twenty-five years of age, of dark complexion, with green spectacles to hide some deformity of the eye, no whiskers, but a large quantity of beard on the lower chin. The elderly man, whom I took to be the notary public mentioned in the advertisement, read the terms of sale; then the dark auctioneer, stroking his bearded chin, proceeded to business.
"Now, gentlemen, let me sell you Jacob. He is twenty-six years of age—a first-rate carpenter and wheelwright—Jacob âgé d'environ 26 ans, charpentier et charron de la première ordre—guaranteed free from the vices and maladies provided against by law—garanti exempt des vices et des maladies prévus par la loi. How much for Jacob? Combien pour Jacob?" He was run up from 1,000 dollars, and was going for 1,175, when the fat old gentleman offered 1,200, at which he was knocked down. "Now, gentlemen," said the fat man, with deliberation and emphasis, "the 1,200 dollars was my bid, and therefore Jacob is not sold. He is well worth 1,800 dollars."
At this performance, be it observed, the chief actor uttered everything first in English, and then in French, in the same breath, thereby giving the proceedings a most strange and comical sound.