COMMENTARY: BY OSWALD T. BROWN
WASHINGTON, D.C., August 24, 2023 –During my daily morning devotion on Wednesday, August 23, Tim Gustafson, author of the narrative that accompanied TODAY’S OUR DAILY BREAD introduced his “essay” with this arresting opening sentence:
In his poem “The Witnesses,” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882) described a sunken slave ship. As he wrote of “skeletons in chains,” Longfellow mourned slavery’s countless nameless victims. The concluding stanza reads, “These are the woes of Slaves, / They glare from the abyss; / They cry from unknown graves, / We are the Witnesses!
Gustafson continued: “There is a Witness who sees it all. When Cain murdered Abel, he pretended nothing had happened. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” he said dismissively to God. But God said, “Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground. Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand” (Genesis 4:9–11).
Cain’s name lives on as a warning. “Do not be like Cain, who belonged to the evil one and murdered his brother,” John the disciple cautioned (1 John 3:12). Abel’s name lives on too, but in a dramatically different way. “By faith Abel brought God a better offering than Cain did,” said the writer of Hebrews. “By faith Abel still speaks” (Hebrews 11:4).
Abel still speaks! So do the bones of those long-forgotten slaves. We do well to remember all such victims, and to oppose oppression wherever we see it. God sees it all. His justice will triumph.”
As a long-time student of African history, Longfellow’s THE WITNESS poem affected me profoundly as I read the various stanzas lyrically describing the evil and wicked practice of slavery. My research over the years has resulted in me tracing my maternal great-grandfather Albert Elliott’s roots to the Ivory Coast (Côte d’Ivoire).
According to Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia, “Because of its location between Europe and the imagined treasures of the Far East, Africa became a destination for the European explorers of the 15th century. The first Europeans to explore the West African coast were the Portuguese. Other European sea powers followed and established trade with many of the coastal peoples of West Africa. At first, trade included gold, ivory, and pepper, but the establishment of American colonies in the 16th century spurred demand for slaves.
“This led to the kidnapping and enslaving of people from the West African coastal regions for transportation to North and South America. Local rulers obtained goods and slaves from the inhabitants of the interior to fulfill treaties with the Europeans. By the end of the 15th century, trade with Europeans had resulted in a strong European influence in Africa, permeating north from the West African coast.”
I grew up at Stanyard Creek, Andros, with my maternal grandparents Benjamin and Mabel Elliott and the account of Papa’s father, Albert Elliott, my great-grandfather, being a slave owned by Matthew Elliott is a story handed down in our family over the years.
My research on Wikipedia revealed that there was a slave owner named Matthew Elliott (c. 1739 – May 7, 1814), who was an Irish-born Ulster-Scots merchant, farmer, colonial official, politician and military officer” and “was active in British North America during and after the era of the American Revolution.”
Wikipedia adds: “Elliott came to America in 1761 and settled in Pennsylvania during the French and Indian War. As a trader in western Pennsylvania and Ohio in the 1760s and 1770s, and as a captain in the British Indian Department during the Revolution, he had lived and fought among the tribes of the Northwest, particularly the Shawnee. He was married to a Shawnee woman and spoke the language fluently. … With the Shawnee woman, Elliott had two sons named Alexander and Matthew. He later married Sarah Donovan and they had another two sons, Francis Gore and Robert Herriot Barclay.”
Later in its chronology, Wikipedia states: “After the Revolution, Elliott established himself on a farm at what became Amherstburg, Ontario in Upper Canada. He eventually owned over 4,000 acres and numerous slaves, a number of whom he had acquired in the course of raids during the Revolution and refused to relinquish despite government pressure. Elliott is mentioned as a slave owner whose slaves were particularly fearful of. He had installed a lashing ring to a tree in front of his house to instill fear in his slaves; which instead encouraged many to try to escape.
“When British-American relations went sour again in 1807, the great importance of Elliott’s influence among the Indians was recognized and in 1808 he was reappointed superintendent in place of Thomas McKee. By the fall of 1808 it became apparent that the Indians were preparing for war, and the British did not want to be blamed. Elliott worked closely with Tecumseh for an alliance. Before the War of 1812, Elliott had succeeded in gaining the Indian alliance with natives in American territory as well as British.
“During the last few months of his life, Elliott led Indian raids on the Niagara frontier. He died from illness in 1814 in the Burlington area of Ontario.
There is no indication in the story handed down in our family how my great-grandfather Albert Elliott moved to Andros, but based on the fact that Matthew Elliott was a slave-owner who instilled fear in his slaves, this could very well be the reason why “Pa Al” escaped, assuming he did, and ended up in Andros. Indeed, family stories about “Pa Al” describe him as a Proud African who detested slavery and would have escaped by any means necessary.
This is why this poem THE WITNESS by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had a profound effect on me:
THE WITNESS
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
In Ocean’s wide domains,
Half buried in the sands,
Lie skeletons in chains,
With shackled feet and hands.
Beyond the fall of dews,
Deeper than plummet lies,
Float ships, with all their crews,
No more to sink nor rise.
There the black Slave-ship swims,
Freighted with human forms,
Whose fettered, fleshless limbs
Are not the sport of storms.
These are the bones of Slaves;
They gleam from the abyss;
They cry, from yawning waves,
“We are the Witnesses!”
Within Earth’s wide domains
Are markets for men’s lives;
Their necks are galled with chains,
Their wrists are cramped with gyves.
Dead bodies, that the kite
In deserts makes its prey;
Murders, that with affright
Scare school-boys from their play!
All evil thoughts and deeds;
Anger, and lust, and pride;
The foulest, rankest weeds,
That choke Life’s groaning tide!
These are the woes of Slaves
They glare from the abyss;
They cry, from unknown graves,
“We are the Witnesses!”
