The Negro Slave -Antebellum Abolitionist Cardstock Broadside

Description

The Negro Slave -Antebellum Abolitionist Cardstock Broadside

 

Scarce and evocative antebellum or Civil War era anti-slavery cardstock broadside titled “The Negro Slave,” featuring a hand-colored woodcut illustration depicting the brutal realities of enslavement. The powerful image shows an enslaved family under threat of the lash, accompanied by a deeply emotional abolitionist poem condemning the cruelty and human suffering of slavery. Printed on thin cardstock rather than standard paper, the piece was likely intended for distribution as a moral or political tract during the turbulent decades leading into the Civil War.

 

The text speaks directly to family separation, forced labor, and the violence of bondage, themes central to abolitionist literature of the 1840s-1860s. Such pieces were often circulated by anti-slavery societies, reform groups, or religious organizations to influence public opinion in the years immediately preceding emancipation.

 

Condition is very good overall, retaining strong legibility and attractive original color to the illustration. Honest age toning, scattered spotting, and edge wear consistent with period handling. An evocative and increasingly scarce survivor from one of the most important social and political struggles in American history, displaying exceptionally well and carrying undeniable emotional impact. 3″x4″

 

 NEGRO SLAVE

AH! wretched captive, who a heart would own

That did not mourn thy shackled limbs to see?

To hear thy heartfelt grief, thy bitter moan,

Forced from thy home and all that’s dear to thee?

My fancy paints thee, ere the white man came, And drove thee from thy cot with fire and sword;

How vigorous then thy now enfeebled frame!

Alas! reduced by cruelties unheard.

I see thy happy face, as waking morn

Renewed the toils a mother loves to share, Thy prattling infants then, knew not to mourn, Bereft the kindness of a parent’s care.

I see thee now, whilst anguish wrings thy heart;

I hear the shriek, despair can not withhold;

Alas! ’tis vain-thou and thy babe must part,

No pity moves the heart that thirsts for gold.

Sons of the land which wealth and freedom boast

Have fixed thy lot, and doom’d thee for a slave;

To toil beneath the driver’s cruel lash,

Till thy frail limbs seek refuge in the grave.

 

Inventory Number: DOC 429