A Letter to Ellen Craft

December 1860

Philadelphia, PA

Dear Mrs. Craft,

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Evelyn Jean Winston and I am a colored woman living in Philadelphia. My father, whom I never had the opportunity to meet, was a runaway from South Carolina. He met my mother here in Philadelphia. They had a loving but brief marriage, as my father suffered from consumption [tuberculosis] and never recovered, bless his soul. I never got to hear of his dangerous escape from slavery, so I was particularly excited to hear of your husband’s published account of your miraculous journey from Macon all the way to England. I got my hands on a copy and devoured every page in what felt like an instant! I imagined the troubles my own father must have faced on his way to Philadelphia. The only thing missing for me was a bit more of your personal perspective on the journey, which, I suppose, is what prompted me to write this letter.

The key to your scheme was your fair complexion. As a quadroon, you had the ability to pass for white, yet this advantage only got you so far. Your gender was yet another issue to overcome, so you daringly donned the costume of a white male planter. How ingenious! The written account detailed your costume (the homemade trousers, the shirt, the glasses, and the poultice), yet I was far more interested in what could not be hidden by clothing and accessories. Did it take much concentration to alter your gait and your posture to resemble that of a man? Did you find yourself falling into familiar feminine or personal habits, such as adjusting your hair or sitting in a particular way? To walk with the confidence of a white slave-owner is far from anything slaves themselves are usually taught, but I am certain that years of observing such men aided your purposes.

Your idea to make your persona, William Johnson, an invalid seemed to serve a dual purpose. First, it provided a reason for you and your “slave” to be travelling to Philadelphia in the first place. Secondly, your feigned afflictions could be used to excuse you from normal social activities and allow you to retire early or say very little, keeping your contact with suspecting whites to a minimum. Did you predict that this latter purpose would be so frequently compromised? While it was predominantly quite useful, your illness did make you rather conspicuous amongst the other passengers, many of whom became interested in assisting you or inquiring of your health. I remember one instance where your fellow white passengers doted on you, making sure you were quite comfortable and able to rest. Why, you must have felt like Sally Hemings under the attentive care of Dr. Sutton! Imagine if those “buckras” knew they were actually helping a runaway slave feel more comfortable while in the midst of her escape! Returning to the topic of William Johnson’s status as an invalid, this genius idea of yours also aided you in overcoming the seemingly insurmountable problem of literacy. At that time, you could neither read nor write. You quite smartly put your right arm in a sling to avoid having to write. Had you worried about not being able to read your ticket (imagine if the ticketing agent had misprinted your tickets, sending you to the wrong destination!)? Literacy seemed to be one of the riskiest elements of your escape.

Let me quickly remind you of a passage from your husband’s account. Referring to slaveholders, he wrote, “They say that God made the black man to be a slave for the white, and act as though they really believed that all free persons of colour are in open rebellion to a direct command from heaven, and that they (whites) are God’s chosen agents to pour out upon them unlimited vengeance,” (20). I could not agree more with this statement. Only when I had finished the rest of the book did I realize the extent to which so many whites in the South took it upon themselves to act as “agents” or enforcers of slavery, even when the situation did not require their assistance. Did you, as William Johnson, expect to be bombarded with so much unsolicited advice on how to handle your “slave”? On the way to Charleston, one man quite firmly suggested that you sell your slave to him to prevent him from running away. He thought no slave owner should take a slave to the North, risking the chance of filling his head with abolitionist ideas that might spread to the rest of the southern slave population. Another man insisted that you treat your slave severely and brutally to keep him in line. Several others were quick to relay their concerns, saying your slave seemed like the type to run away. The overall impression left by these encounters is that the South is a place fraught with suspicion and hostility surrounding slavery. The whites experience such a strong paranoia regarding the possibility of a slave rebellion that they make other white slaveholders’ business their own. I was slightly surprised by how much they intruded upon your personal affairs. Who knew supposed white southern “gentlemen” would be so interested in heavily criticizing their social equals openly and publicly.

I shall stop my ponderings here. I realize you must be overwhelmed with attention in England and with the new public awareness of your escape. I would very much appreciate your thoughts on my letter, should you get a moment to respond.

Yours truly,

Evelyn Jean Winston