The Freedmen's Book

by Lydia Maria Child

Meanwhile their friends in England were working for them zealously. They published pamphlets and papers and made speeches, and urgently petitioned Parliament to "let the people go." One petition alone was signed by eight hundred thousand women. One of the members, pointing to the enormous roll, said: "There is no use in trying longer to resist the will of the people. When all the women in Great Britain are knocking at the doors of Parliament, something must be done."

The government and the aristocracy were very reluctant to comply with the demand of the people. But at last, after eleven years of more violent struggle than it had taken to suppress the African slave-trade, Slavery itself was abolished in the British West Indies forever. The decree was to go into effect on the 1st day of August, 1834. Up to the very last day, the planters persisted in saying that the measure would ruin the islands. They said the emancipated slaves would do no work, but would go round in large gangs, robbing, stealing, murdering the whites, burning the houses, and destroying the fields of sugar-cane. If the negroes had been revengeful, they might have done a great deal of mischief; for there were five times as many colored people in the islands as there were whites. But they were so thankful to get their freedom at last, that there was no room in their hearts for bad feelings. The tears were in their eyes as they told each other the good news, and said, "Bress de Lord and de good English people."

But many of the masters really believed their own alarming prophesies. When they found that emancipation could not be prevented, numbers left the islands. Some of those who remained did not dare to undress and go to bed on the night of the 31st of July; and those who tried to sleep were generally restless and easily startled.

But while masters and mistresses were dreading to hear screams and alarms of fire, their emancipated slaves were flocking to the churches to offer up prayers and hymns of thanksgiving.

In the island of Antigua there were thirty thousand slaves when the midnight clock began to strive twelve, on the 31st of July, 1834; and when it had done striking they were all free men and free women. It was a glorious moment, never to be forgotten by them during the remainder of their lives. The Wesleyan Methodists kept watch-night in all their chapels. One of the missionaries who exhorted the emancipated people and prayed with them thus described the solemn scene:—

"The spacious house was filled with the candidates for liberty. All was animation and eagerness. A mighty chorus of voices swelled the song of expectation and joy; and as they united in prayer, the voice of the leader was drowned in the universal acclamations of thanksgiving and praise and blessing and honor and glory to God, who had come down for their deliverance. In such exercises the evening was spent, until the hour of twelve approached. The missionary then proposed that when the cathedral clock should begin to strike, the whole congregation should fall on their knees, and receive the boon of freedom in silence. Accordingly, as the loud bell tolled its first note, the crowded assembly prostrated themselves. All was silence, save the quivering, half-stifled breath of the struggling spirit. Slowly the tones of the clock fell upon the waiting multitude. Peal on peal, peal on peal, rolled over the prostrate throng, like angels' voices, thrilling their weary heartstrings. Scarcely had the last tone sounded, when lightning flashed vividly, and a loud peal of thunder rolled through the sky. It was God's pillar of fire. His trump of jubilee. It was followed by a moment of profound silence. Then came the outburst. They shouted 'Glory! Hallelujah!' They clapped their hands, they leaped up, they fell down, they clasped each other in their free arms, they cried, they laughed, they went to and fro, throwing upward their unfettered hands. High above all, a mighty sound ever and anon swelled up. It was the utterance of gratitude to God.

"After this gush of excitement had spent itself, the congregation became calm, and religious exercises were resumed. The remainder of the night was spent in singing and prayer, in reading the Bible, and in addresses from the missionaries, explaining the nature of the freedom just received, and exhorting the people to be industrious, steady, and obedient to the laws, and to show themselves in all things worthy of the high boon God had conferred upon them.

"The 1st of August came on Friday; and a release from all work was proclaimed until the next Monday. The great mass of the negroes spent the day chiefly in the churches and chapels. The clergy and missionaries throughout the island actively seized the opportunity to enlighten the people on all the duties and responsibilities of their new relation. The day was like a Sabbath. A Sabbath, indeed, when 'the wicked ceased from troubling and the weary were at rest.'

"The most kindly of the planters went to the chapels where their own people were assembled, and shook hands with them, and exchanged hearty good wishes.

"At Grace Hill, a Moravian missionary station, the emancipated negroes begged to have a sunrise meeting on the 1st of August, as they had been accustomed to have at Easter; and as it was the Easter morning of their freedom, the request was granted. The people all dressed in white, and walked arm in arm to the chapel. There a hymn of thanksgiving was sung by the whole congregation kneeling. The singing was frequently interrupted by the tears and sobs of the melted people, until finally they were overwhelmed by a tumult of emotion.