FootNote
The new kid on the block, FootNote is known for digitizing historical
documents... many of which are genealogical gems. With naturalizations,
city directories, war records, newspapers, town records, etc... this new
kid is quickly being recognized as an alternative to Ancestry.
While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
On receiving intelligence of
the arrest of Isabella, Mr. Gordon
authorized the sheriff to sell her to the
highest bidder. She was, therefore, sold;
the purchaser being the noted Negro trader,
Hope H. Slater, who at once placed her in
prison. Here the fugitive saw none but
slaves like herself, brought in and taken
out to be placed in ships, and sent away to
some part of the country to which she
herself would soon be compelled to go. She
had seen or heard nothing of her daughter
while in Richmond, and all hopes of seeing
her had now fled.
At the dusk of the evening previous to the
day when she was to be sent off, as the old
prison was being closed for the night,
Isabella suddenly dated past the keeper, and
ran for her life. It was not a great
distance from the prison to the long bridge
which passes from the lower part of the city
across the Potomac to the extensive forests
and woodlands of the celebrated Arlington
Heights, then occupied by that distinguished
relative and descendant of the immortal
Washington, Mr. Geo. W. Custis. Thither the
poor fugitive directed her flight. So
unexpected was her escape that she had
gained several rods the start before the
keeper had secured the other prisoners, and
rallied his assistants to aid in the
pursuit. It was at an hour, and in a part of
the city where horses could not easily be
obtained for the chase; no bloodhounds were
at hand to run down the flying woman, and
for once it seemed as if there was to be a
fair trial of speed and endurance between
the slave and the slave catchers.
The keeper and his force raised the hue and
cry on her path as they followed close
behind; but so rapid was the flight along
the wide avenue that the astonished
citizens, as they poured forth from their
dwellings to learn the cause of alarm, were
only able to comprehend the nature of the
case in time to fall in with the motley
throng in pursuit, or raise an anxious
prayer to heaven as they refused to join in
the chase (as many a one did that night)
that the panting fugitive might escape, and
the merciless soul dealer for once be
disappointed of his prey. And now, with the
speed of an arrow, having passed the avenue,
with the distance between her and her
pursuers constantly increasing, this poor,
hunted female gained the "Long Bridge," as
it is called, where interruption seemed
improbably. Already her heart began to beat
high with the hope of success. She had only
to pass three quarters of a mile across the
bridge, when she could bury herself in a
vast forest, just as the time when the
curtain of night would close around her, and
protect her from the pursuit of her enemies.
But God, by his providence, had otherwise
determined. He had ordained that an
appalling tragedy should be enacted that
night within plain sight of the President's
house, and the Capitol of the Union, which
would be an evidence wherever it should be
known of the unconquerable love of liberty
which the human heart may inherit, as well
as a fresh admonition to the slave dealer of
the cruelty and enormity of his crimes.
Just as the pursuers passed the high draw,
soon after entering upon the bridge, they
beheld three men slowly approaching from the
Virginia side. They immediately called to
them to arrest the fugitive, proclaiming her
a runaway slave. True to their Virginia
instincts, as she came near, they formed a
line across the narrow bridge to intercept
her. Seeing the escape was impossible in
that quarter, she stopped suddenly, and
turned upon her pursuers.
On came the profane and ribald crew faster
than ever, already exulting in her capture,
and threatening punishment for her flight.
For a moment she looked wildly and anxiously
around to see if there was no hope of
escape. On either hand, far down below,
rolled the deep, foaming waters of the
Potomac, and before and behind were the
rapidly approaching steps and noisy voices
of her pursuers. Seeing how vain would be
any further effort to escape, her resolution
was instantly taken. She clasped her hands
convulsively together, raised her tearful
and imploring eyes toward heaven, and begged
for the mercy and compassion there which was
unjustly denied her on earth; then,
exclaiming, "Henry, Clotelle, I die for
thee!" with a single bound, vaulted over the
railing of the bridge, and sank forever
beneath the angry and foaming waters of the
river!
Such was the life, and such the death, of a
woman whose virtues and goodness of heart
would have done honor to one in a higher
station of life, and who, had she been born
in any other land but that of slavery, would
have been respected and beloved. What would
have been her feelings if she could have
known that the child for whose rescue she
had sacrificed herself would one day be
free, honored, and loved in another land?
Clotelle or The Colored Heroine, A tale
of the Southern States
