Among the most daring escapes from slavery in the United States in the 19th century was the flight of Ellen and William Craft from the slave state of Georgia to the free state of Pennsylvania in 1848. Ellen (1826-1891), a light-skinned Black woman who could pass as White, disguised herself as a Southern gentleman, as women could not travel alone with male slaves, and William (1824-1900) posed as 'his' slave. They arrived safely in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, on Christmas Day 1848, and soon after, they became the most famous fugitive slaves in the United States.
They were welcomed by the abolitionists of Philadelphia, including Passmore Williamson (1822-1895) and William Still (1819-1902), both members of the Underground Railroad, who sent them on their way to fellow abolitionists in Boston. Once there, they lectured on their escape and the evils of slavery, which brought their location to the attention of their former master who sent slave-catchers after them in 1850.
Flight from the United States
Prior to the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, a freedom seeker could be captured and re-enslaved in a free state, but there was no law compelling anyone to aid in this. After the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 was passed by the US Congress, failure to report a runaway slave or to help slave-catchers apprehend one was punishable by hefty fines and imprisonment.
Boston, a bastion of the abolitionist movement, resisted the Fugitive Slave Act, hid freedom seekers, and worked within the law to apprehend and jail slave-catchers. Abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison (1805-1879) addressed this in his article "Slave Hunters in Boston" in his anti-slavery newspaper The Liberator, 1 November 1850, describing the lengths to which the Boston abolitionists went to hide the Crafts and impede the efforts of the slave-hunters.
Still, the Crafts understood they were no longer safe in the city and, financed by the abolitionists, left for England. They first traveled to Portland, Maine, then to St. John's, New Brunswick, Canada, and from there, to Nova Scotia, where they left for Liverpool, England, aboard the Cambria. Once in England, the Crafts learned to read and write, penning their famous work, Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom (1860), detailing their escape and providing firsthand accounts of life as a slave in the United States.
Although many slaves fled bondage for freedom in Canada, they could not escape racial prejudice. In an especially interesting passage from Ellen and William Craft's Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom, the authors describe the difficulties in lodging and travel through Canada simply because William was a Black man. Ellen, having discarded her disguise upon reaching Philadelphia in 1848, was received warmly as a White woman, but William had a very different and far less pleasant experience, as detailed below.
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The following is taken from Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom (1860), republished by Dover Publications, 2014, pp. 100-108.
We finally got off to St. John's, New Brunswick, where we had to wait two days for the steamer that conveyed us to Windsor, Nova Scotia.
On going into a hotel at St. John's, we met the butler in the hall, to whom I said, "We wish to stop here to-night." He turned round, scratching his head, evidently much put about. But thinking that my wife was white, he replied, "We have plenty of room for the lady, but I don't know about yourself; we never take in coloured folks." "Oh, don't trouble about me," I said; "if you have room for the lady, that will do; so please have the luggage taken to a bed-room." Which was immediately done, and my wife went upstairs into the apartment.
After taking a little walk in the town, I returned, and asked to see the "lady." On being conducted to the little sitting room, where she then was, I entered without knocking, much to the surprise of the whole house." The "lady" then rang the bell and ordered dinner for two. "Dinner for two, mum!" exclaimed the waiter, as he backed out of the door. "Yes, for two," said my wife. In a little while the stout, red-nosed butler, whom we first met, knocked at the door.
I called out, "Come in." On entering, he rolled his whisky eyes at me, and then at my wife, and said, in a very solemn tone, "Did you order dinner for two, mum?" "Yes, for two," my wife again replied. This confused the chubby butler more than ever; and, as the landlord was not in the house, he seemed at a loss what to do.
When dinner was ready, the maid came in and said, "Please mum, the Missis wishes to know whether you will have dinner up now, or wait till your friend arrives?" "I will have it up at once, if you please." "Thank you, mum," continued the maid, and out she glided.
After a good deal of giggling in the passage, someone said, "You are in for it, butler, after all; so you had better make the best of a bad job." But before dinner was sent up, the landlord returned, and having heard from the steward of the steamer by which we came that we were bound for England, the proprietor's native country, he treated us in the most respectful manner.
At the above house, the boots (whose name I forget) was a fugitive slave, a very intelligent and active man, about forty-five years of age. Soon after his marriage, while in slavery, his bride was sold away from him, and he could never learn where the poor creature dwelt. So, after remaining single for many years, both before and after his escape, and never expecting to see again, nor even to hear from, his long-lost partner, he finally married a woman at St. John's.
But, poor fellow, as he was passing down the street one day, he met a woman; at the first glance they nearly recognized each other; they both turned round and stared, and unconsciously advanced, till she screamed and flew into his arms. Her first words were, "Dear, are you married?" On his answering in the affirmative, she shrank from his embrace, hung her head, and wept. A person who witnessed this meeting told me it was most affecting.
This couple knew nothing of each other's escape or whereabouts. The woman had escaped a few years before to the free States, by secreting herself in the hold of a vessel; but as they tried to get her back to bondage, she fled to New Brunswick for that protection which her native country was too mean to afford.
The man at once took his old wife to see his new one, who was also a fugitive slave, and as they all knew the workings of the infamous system of slavery, they could (as no one else can,) sympathise with each other's misfortune.
According to the rules of slavery, the man and his first wife were already divorced, but not morally; and therefore, it was arranged between the three that he should live only with the lastly married wife, and allow the other one so much a week, as long she requested his assistance.
After staying at St. John's two days, the steamer arrived, which took us to Windsor, where we found a coach bound for Halifax. Prejudice against colour forced me on the top in the rain. On arriving within about seven miles of the town, the coach broke down and was upset. I fell upon the big crotchety driver, whose head stuck in the mud; and as he "always objected to niggers riding inside with white folks," I was not particularly sorry to see him deeper in the mire than myself. All of us were scratched and bruised more or less. After the passengers had crawled out as best they could, we all set off, and paddled through the deep mud and cold and rain, to Halifax.
On leaving Boston, it was our intention to reach Halifax at least two or three days before the steamer from Boston touched there, en route for Liverpool; but, having been detained so long at Portland and St. John's, we had the misfortune to arrive at Halifax at dark, just two hours after the steamer had gone; consequently, we had to wait there a fortnight, for the Cambria.
The coach was patched up, and reached Halifax with the luggage, soon after the passengers arrived. The only respectable hotel that was then in the town had suspended business, and was closed; so, we went to the inn, opposite the market, where the coach stopped: a most miserable, dirty hole it was.
Knowing that we were still under the influence of the low Yankee prejudice, I sent my wife in with the other passengers, to engage a bed for herself and husband. I stopped outside in the rain till the coach came up. If I had gone in and asked for a bed, they would have been quite full. But as they thought my wife was white, she had no difficulty in securing apartments, into which the luggage was afterwards carried.
The landlady, observing that I took an interest in the baggage, became somewhat uneasy, and went into my wife's room, and said to her, "Do you know the dark man downstairs?" "Yes, he is my husband." "Oh! I mean the black man–the nigger?" "I quite understand you; he is my husband." "My God!" exclaimed the woman as she flounced out and banged to the door.
On going upstairs, I heard what had taken place: but, as we were there, and did not mean to leave that night, we did not disturb ourselves. On our ordering tea, the landlady sent word back to say that we must take it in the kitchen, or in our bedroom, as she had no other room for "niggers." We replied that we were not particular, and that they could send it up to our room, –which they did.
After the pro-slavery persons who were staying there heard that we were in, the whole house became agitated, and all sorts of oaths and fearful threats were heaped upon the "d–d niggers, for coming among white folks." Some of them said they would not stop there a minute if there was another house to go to.
The mistress came up the next morning to know how long we wished to stop. We said a fortnight. "Oh! dear me, it is impossible for us to accommodate you, and I think you had better go: you must understand, I have no prejudice myself; I think a good deal of the coloured people, and have always been their friend; but if you stop here we shall lose all our customers, which we can't do no-how."
We said we were glad to hear that she had "no prejudice," and was such a staunch friend to the coloured people. We also informed her that we would be sorry for her "customers" to leave on our account; and as it was not our intention to interfere with anyone, it was foolish for them to be frightened away. However, if she would get us a comfortable place, we would be glad to leave. The landlady said she would go out and try. After spending the whole morning in canvassing the town, she came to our room and said, "I have been from one end of the place to the other, but everybody is full." Having a little foretaste of the vulgar prejudice of the town, we did not wonder at this result.
However, the landlady gave me the address of some respectable coloured families, whom she thought, "under the circumstances," might be induced to take us. And, as we were not at all comfortable–being compelled to sit, eat, and sleep, in the same small room–we were quite willing to change our quarters.
I called upon the Rev. Mr. Cannady, a truly good-hearted Christian man, who received us at a word; and both he and his kind lady treated us handsomely, and for a nominal charge.
My wife and myself were both unwell when we left Boston, and, having taken fresh cold on the journey to Halifax, we were laid up there under the doctor's care, nearly the whole fortnight. I had much worry about getting tickets, for they baffled us shamefully at the Cunard office. They at first said that they did not book till the steamer came, which was not the fact.
When I called again, they said they knew the steamer would come full from Boston, and therefore we had "better try to get to Liverpool by other means." Other mean Yankee excuses were made; and it was not till an influential gentleman, to whom Mr. Francis Jackson, of Boston, kindly gave us a letter, went and rebuked them, that we were able to secure our tickets. So when we went on board my wife was very poorly, and was also so ill on the voyage that I did not believe she could live to see Liverpool.
However, I am thankful to say she arrived; and, after laying up at Liverpool very ill for two or three weeks, gradually recovered.
It was not until we stepped upon the shore at Liverpool that we were free from every slavish fear.
We raised our thankful hearts to Heaven, and could have knelt down, like the Neapolitan exiles, and kissed the soil; for we felt that from slavery "Heaven sure had kept this spot of earth uncurs'd, To show how all things were created first."
In a few days after we landed, the Rev. Francis Bishop and his lady came and invited us to be their guests; to whose unlimited kindness and watchful care my wife owes, in a great degree, her restoration to health.
