Out of Bondage 1 (Richard Toler)
52" x 69"
oil on canvas
(select to view larger)
Richard Toler was born near Lynchburg in Campbell County, Virginia. He was the son of George Washington Toler and Lucy Toler, and the slave of Henry Toler. As a youngster, Richard Toler tended to the cows and calves on his master’s 500-acre farm; later, he hoed in the fields. He learned blacksmithing as a slave, and after emancipation he earned his living as a smith for 36 years. After the Civil War he bought a fiddle, and became an accomplished musician, playing for white dances and at hoe downs. He recalls medical treatment under slavery, as well as details of diet and clothing. He also recalls the brutal whipping of young girls by his master’s sons.
“Ah never fit in de wah; no suh, ah couldn’t. Mah belly’s been broke! But ah sho’ did want to, and ah went up to be examined, but they didn’t receive me on account of mah broken stomach. But ah sho’ tried, ’cause ah wanted to be free. Ah didn’t like to be no slave. Dat wasn’t good times.”
“Ah never had no good times till ah was free”, the old man continued. “Ah was bo’n on Mastah Tolah’s (Henry Toler) plantation down in ole V’ginia, near Lynchburg in Campbell County. Mah pappy was a slave befo’ me, and mah mammy, too. His name was George Washington Tolah, and her’n was Lucy Tolah. We took ouah name from ouah ownah, and we lived in a cabin way back of the big house, me and mah pappy and mammy and two brothahs.
”They nevah mistreated me, neithah. They’s a whipping the slaves all the time, but ah run away all the time. And I jus’ tell them – if they whipped me, ah’d kill ‘em, and ah nevah did get a whippin’. If ah thought one was comin’ to me, Ah’d hide in the woods; then they’d send aftah me and they say, ‘Come, on back, – we won’t whip you’. But they killed some of the niggahs, whipped ‘em to death. Ah guess they killed three or fo’ on Tolah’s place while ah was there.
“Ah never went to school. Learned to read and write my name after ah was free in night school, but they nevah allowed us to have a book in ouah hand, and we couldn’t have no money neither. If we had money we had to tu’n it ovah to ouah ownah. Chu’ch was not allowed in ouah pa’t neithah. Ah go to the Meth’dist Chu’ch now, everybody ought to go. I think religion must be fine, 'cause God Almighty's at the head of it."
Toler took a small piece of ice from the lard can, popped it between his toothless gum, smacking enjoyment, swished at the swarming flies with a soiled rag handkerchief, and continued.
“Ah nevah could unnerstand about ghos’es. Nevah did see one. Lots of folks tell about seein’ ghos’es, but ah nevah feared ‘em. Ah was nevah raised up undah such supastitious believin’s.
“We was nevah allowed no pa’ties, and when they had goin’ ons at the big house, we had to clear out. Ah had to wo’k hard all the time every day in the week. Had to min’ the cows and calves, and when ah got older ah had to hoe in the field. Mastah Tolah had about 500 acres, so they tell me, and he had a lot of cows and ho’ses and oxens, and he was a big fa’mer. Ah’ve done about evahthing in mah life, blacksmith and stone mason, ca’penter, evahthing but brick-layin’. Ah was a blacksmith heah fo’ 36 yea’s. Learned it down at Tolah’s.
“Ah stayed on the plantation during the wah, and jes’ did what they tol’ me. Ah was 21 then. And ah walked 50 mile to vote for Gen’l Grant at Vaughn’s precinct. Ah voted fo’ him in two sessions, he run twice. And ah was 21 the fust time, cause they come and got me, and say, ‘Come on now. You can vote now, you is 21.’ And theah now – mah age is right theah. ‘Bout as close as you can git it. “Ah was close to the battle front, and I seen all dem famous men. Seen Gen’l Lee, and Grant, and Abe Lincoln. Seen John Brown, and seen the seven men that was hung with him, but we wasn’t allowed to talk to any of ‘em, jes’ looked on in the street. Jes’ spoke, and say ‘How d’ do.
“But ah did talk to Lincoln, and ah tol’ him ah wanted to be free, and he was a fine man, ’cause he made us all free. And ah got a ole history, it’s the Sanford American History, and was published in 1784. But ah don’t know where it is now, ah misplaced it. It is printed in the book, something ah said, now written by hand. And it says, ‘Ah am a ole slave which has suvved fo’ 21 yeahs, and ah would be quite pleased if you could help us to be free. We thank you very much. Ah trust that some day ah can do you the same privilege that you are doing for me. Ah have been a slave for many years.
“Aftah the wah, ah came to Cincinnati, and was married three times. Mah fust wife was Mannie. Then there was Mollie. They both died, and then ah was married Cora heah, and ah had six child’en, one girl and fo’ boys. They’s two living yet; James is 70 and he is not married. And Bob’s about thutty or fo’ty. Ah done lost all mah rememb’ance, too ole now. But Mollie died when he was bo’n, and he is crazy. He is out of Longview (Home for Mentally infirm) now fo’ a while, and he jes’ wanders around, and wo’ks a little. He ha’mless, he wouldn’t hurt nobody. He ain’t married neithah.<
“After the wah, ah bought a fiddle, and ah was a good fiddlah. Used to be a fiddlah fo’ the white girls to dance. Jes’ picked it up. It was a natural gif’. Ah could still play if ah had a fiddle. Ah used to play at our hoe downs, too. Played all those ole time songs – Soldier’s Joy, Jimmy Long Josey, Arkansas Traveler, and Black Eye Susie. Ah remembah the wo’ds to that one.”
Smiling inwardly with pleasure as he again lived the past, the old Negro swayed and recited:
Black Eye Susie, you look so fine,
Black Eye Susie, ah think youah mine.“Ah never fit in de wah; no suh, ah couldn’t. Mah belly’s been broke! But ah sho’ did want to, and ah went up to be examined, but they didn’t receive me on account of mah broken stomach. But ah sho’ tried, ’cause ah wanted to be free. Ah didn’t like to be no slave. Dat wasn’t good times.”
“Ah never had no good times till ah was free”, the old man continued. “Ah was bo’n on Mastah Tolah’s (Henry Toler) plantation down in ole V’ginia, near Lynchburg in Campbell County. Mah pappy was a slave befo’ me, and mah mammy, too. His name was George Washington Tolah, and her’n was Lucy Tolah. We took ouah name from ouah ownah, and we lived in a cabin way back of the big house, me and mah pappy and mammy and two brothahs.
”They nevah mistreated me, neithah. They’s a whipping the slaves all the time, but ah run away all the time. And I jus’ tell them – if they whipped me, ah’d kill ‘em, and ah nevah did get a whippin’. If ah thought one was comin’ to me, Ah’d hide in the woods; then they’d send aftah me and they say, ‘Come, on back, – we won’t whip you’. But they killed some of the niggahs, whipped ‘em to death. Ah guess they killed three or fo’ on Tolah’s place while ah was there.
“Ah never went to school. Learned to read and write my name after ah was free in night school, but they nevah allowed us to have a book in ouah hand, and we couldn’t have no money neither. If we had money we had to tu’n it ovah to ouah ownah. Chu’ch was not allowed in ouah pa’t neithah. Ah go to the Meth’dist Chu’ch now, everybody ought to go. I think religion must be fine, 'cause God Almighty's at the head of it."
Toler took a small piece of ice from the lard can, popped it between his toothless gum, smacking enjoyment, swished at the swarming flies with a soiled rag handkerchief, and continued.
“Ah nevah could unnerstand about ghos’es. Nevah did see one. Lots of folks tell about seein’ ghos’es, but ah nevah feared ‘em. Ah was nevah raised up undah such supastitious believin’s.
“We was nevah allowed no pa’ties, and when they had goin’ ons at the big house, we had to clear out. Ah had to wo’k hard all the time every day in the week. Had to min’ the cows and calves, and when ah got older ah had to hoe in the field. Mastah Tolah had about 500 acres, so they tell me, and he had a lot of cows and ho’ses and oxens, and he was a big fa’mer. Ah’ve done about evahthing in mah life, blacksmith and stone mason, ca’penter, evahthing but brick-layin’. Ah was a blacksmith heah fo’ 36 yea’s. Learned it down at Tolah’s.
“Ah stayed on the plantation during the wah, and jes’ did what they tol’ me. Ah was 21 then. And ah walked 50 mile to vote for Gen’l Grant at Vaughn’s precinct. Ah voted fo’ him in two sessions, he run twice. And ah was 21 the fust time, cause they come and got me, and say, ‘Come on now. You can vote now, you is 21.’ And theah now – mah age is right theah. ‘Bout as close as you can git it. “Ah was close to the battle front, and I seen all dem famous men. Seen Gen’l Lee, and Grant, and Abe Lincoln. Seen John Brown, and seen the seven men that was hung with him, but we wasn’t allowed to talk to any of ‘em, jes’ looked on in the street. Jes’ spoke, and say ‘How d’ do.
“But ah did talk to Lincoln, and ah tol’ him ah wanted to be free, and he was a fine man, ’cause he made us all free. And ah got a ole history, it’s the Sanford American History, and was published in 1784. But ah don’t know where it is now, ah misplaced it. It is printed in the book, something ah said, now written by hand. And it says, ‘Ah am a ole slave which has suvved fo’ 21 yeahs, and ah would be quite pleased if you could help us to be free. We thank you very much. Ah trust that some day ah can do you the same privilege that you are doing for me. Ah have been a slave for many years.
“Aftah the wah, ah came to Cincinnati, and was married three times. Mah fust wife was Mannie. Then there was Mollie. They both died, and then ah was married Cora heah, and ah had six child’en, one girl and fo’ boys. They’s two living yet; James is 70 and he is not married. And Bob’s about thutty or fo’ty. Ah done lost all mah rememb’ance, too ole now. But Mollie died when he was bo’n, and he is crazy. He is out of Longview (Home for Mentally infirm) now fo’ a while, and he jes’ wanders around, and wo’ks a little. He ha’mless, he wouldn’t hurt nobody. He ain’t married neithah.<
“After the wah, ah bought a fiddle, and ah was a good fiddlah. Used to be a fiddlah fo’ the white girls to dance. Jes’ picked it up. It was a natural gif’. Ah could still play if ah had a fiddle. Ah used to play at our hoe downs, too. Played all those ole time songs – Soldier’s Joy, Jimmy Long Josey, Arkansas Traveler, and Black Eye Susie. Ah remembah the wo’ds to that one.”
Smiling inwardly with pleasure as he again lived the past, the old Negro swayed and recited:
Black Eye Susie, you look so fine,
A wondahful time we’re having now,
Oh, Black Eye Susie, ah believe that youah mine.
And away down we stomp aroun’ the bush,
We’d think that we’d get back to wheah we could push
Black Eye Susie, ah think youah fine,
Black Eye Susie, Ah know youah mine.
Then, he resumed his conversational tone:
“Befo’ the wah we never had no good times. They took good care of us, though. As pa’taculah with slave as with the stock – that was their money, you know. And if we claimed bein’ sick, they’d give us a dose of castah oil and tu’pentine. That was the principal medicine cullud folks had to take, and sometimes salts. But nevah no whiskey – that was not allowed. And if we was real sick, they had the Doctah fo’ us.
“We had very bad eatin’. Bread, meat, water. And they fed it to us in a trough, jes’ like the hogs. And ah went in may [sic] shirt till I was 16, nevah had no clothes. And the flo’ in ouah cabin was dirt, and at night we’d jes’ take a blanket and lay down on the flo’. The dog was supe’ior to us; they would take him in the house.
“Some of the people I belonged to was in the Klu Klux Klan. Tolah had fo’ girls and fo’ boys. Some of those boys belonged. And I used to see them turn out. They went ’round whippin’ niggahs. They get young girls and strip ‘em sta’k naked, and put ‘em across barrels, and whip ‘em till the blood run out of ‘em, and then they would put salt in the raw pahts. And ah seen it, and it was as bloody aroun’ em as if they’d stuck hogs.
“I sho’ is glad I ain’t no slave no moah. Ah thank God that ah lived to pas the yeahs until the day of 1937. Ah’m happy and satisfied now, and ah hopes ah see a million yeahs to come.”
Source: The American Slave, Vol. 16: 97-101.
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cool. and beautiful too.
ReplyDeletewhere is Poplar Street?
I posted this in Facebook :)
xoxo
Beautiful work, shared on my Tumblr. Mr. Toler's story is heartbreaking, as are all the slave narratives. I'm cleansed of my previous starry-eyed admiration for all our 'founding fathers' that all students are carefully taught in 100% of all US schools... except John Adams and his son. "Of the U.S.' first twelve presidents, the only two never to own slaves were John Adams, and his son John Quincy Adams; the first of which famously said that the American Revolution would not be complete until all slaves were freed."
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