Letter from a Freedman to His Old Master
I heard this letter mentioned in a sermon at church and I Googled it right away. It is such a good fit for dealing with the mindset of abusers that I just had to read up on it. The letter was dictated to an activist/friend of the author and it was widely published at the time. Jordan Anderson and Colonel Anderson were real people. Historians can’t be sure that Jordan actually wrote this letter, but it got a great deal of attention at the time and in recent years as well.
Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865
To my Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee
Sir: I got your letter and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdan, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Col. Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here; I get $25 a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy (the folks here call her Mrs. Anderson), and the children, Milly Jane and Grundy, go to school and are learning well; the teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday-School, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated; sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks, but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Col. Anderson. Many darkies would have been proud, as I used to was, to call you master. Now, if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost- Marshal- General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you are sincerely disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years and Mandy twenty years. At $25 a month for me, and $2 a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to $11,680. Add to this the interest for the time our wages has been kept back and deduct what you paid for our clothing and three doctor’s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams Express, in care of V. Winters, esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night, but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the Negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.
In answering this letter please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve, and die if it comes to that, than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood, the great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
P.S.—Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant, Jourdan Anderson
An AP article about Anderson [Internet Archive link] relates
In a 2006 speech at a conference on slavery reparations, historian Raymond Winbush retold the story of Anderson’s letter. He also revealed that he had tracked down some of Patrick Henry Anderson’s descendants, still living in Big Spring.
‘What’s amazing is that the current living relatives of Colonel Anderson are still angry at Jordan for not coming back,’ knowing that the plantation was in serious disrepair after the war, said Winbush, director of the Institute for Urban Research at Maryland’s Morgan State University.
I (Ellie) just don’t even know where to begin here. The parallels keep popping up in every line. I’ll post a couple and then you can comment with the ones you notice. How’s that?
One that I’ve been ruminating on is this:
We are kindly treated; sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks, but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Col. Anderson. Many darkies would have been proud, as I used to was, to call you master.
I was so very proud of him. He is smart and accomplished. He is funny and hard working. He sings like an angel. I was proud of his work, proud of his ability to motivate others, proud of the way he loved to bless people. “Pay no attention to the way he glares at me. Don’t mention that I look exhausted,” I’d think. “I get to be with the greatness that is X and that is more than I can say for you,” I’d think. Not just anyone gets to be abused by someone as great as X. Oh boy. The farther I get from it, the weirder it all looks. But I thought it was normal then. Freedom is better. And I wouldn’t go back for a mere $11K I can tell you that right now.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost- Marshal- General of the Department of Nashville.
Isn’t it just like an abuser to try to define reality and tell folks what they can and can’t have as if it is up to them? I am done with that. No thanks
And then I’ll comment on the abuser’s family. I’ve had some wonderful support. But there are those who blame me, who think I’ve ruined Christmas and other holidays, who think my refusal to live with an abuser set into motion a terrible sequence of events. HELLO! Those events never would’ve happened if he hadn’t abused me! I don’t hope anymore that they’ll see that. They won’t. It’s been over 100 years and Colonel Anderson’s descendants still blame Jordan for the plantation’s plight. Some things are best left to be sorted out on Judgement Day. I’ll never be able to explain this to them. So I’ll trust that God’s defense of me is enough.