Martha Schofield, pioneer Negro educator Historical and philosophical review of reconstruction period of South Carolina — Text and Context

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Evans, Matilda A. Project Gutenberg 2022 Not confirmed
African Americans -- Education; African American educators -- Biography; Schofield, Martha, 1839-1916; Education -- South Carolina; Reconstruction (U.S. history, 1865-1877) -- South Carolina Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Words 43,831
Reading time 191 min
Text sections 21

This digital edition of Martha Schofield, pioneer Negro educator Historical and philosophical review of reconstruction period of South Carolina — Text and Context is described by source-level measurements including 43,831 words, 3 hr 11 min estimated reading time, and 21 detected text sections.

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Matilda A. Evans, M.D., a graduate of Schofield School, writes a biography of Martha Schofield that blends historical review with dramatic, novelistic scenes. The text uses vernacular dialogue and vivid mob episodes to depict Reconstruction-era South Carolina, while the author's foreword frames Schofield's work as a moral crusade against ignorance and superstition.
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A woman apparently thirty years of age, of mulatto skin, fell limp into a chair in the kitchen of Mrs. Oliver Schofield of Darby, Bucks County, Pennsylvania about the year 1857, with blood hounds and the voices of angry men following close upon her heels through the tangled swamps from which she had just emerged.

“Who can thee be? Who can thee be?--and what does thee want here?” inquired excited Mrs. Schofield as she dropped the dish rag and rushed to the prostrate form in the chair, eager to render aid and comfort to the suffering and afflicted woman as well as to ascertain the cause of her abrupt, unannounced entrance into her home.

Out of breath from the long run made necessary to escape the dogs and the traps laid by experienced officers of the law who had been so diligently upon her trail for more than a week, that she had had time to stop and rest and take nourishment for only a few minutes at a time, Laura Duncan was unable at first to give any coherent account of herself. She managed, however, to make it known to the kind Quaker lady that she was an escaped slave and was endeavoring with all speed possible to reach the Canadian border and enter the world of freedom, which she had been informed existed under the British flag in the Dominion of Canada for all who might enter that country.

As causes moving her to take this drastic step in defiance of the law of her own land and the possibility of involving the liberty and happiness of all who might be kind enough to assist her in the accomplishment of the task, she recited such evils as brought tears to the eyes of her enforced host. She exhibited a lash-scared back, a broken bone or two and a deep cut on the head that had since been healed without serious results only by the aid of a skillful surgeon.

But the physical suffering attested by these outward signs of the practice of brutality on the woman were but a fraction of the pain and torture which Miss Schofield knew was gnashing at her heart over the parting of herself and husband and children more than a month before, when at a public sale little Gabe, her ten year old son, and Jennie, the only daughter, and her husband, “Jim,” were each sold to different masters in as many different States and carried away where she would never see or hear of any of them again.

“Martha” said Mrs. Schofield addressing her daughter, whose face was covered in an immaculate white apron that adorned her whole front, to hide the freely flowing tears that rushed from her eyes like water from the fountains, “do thee find thy father at once and tell him to come to the house as quickly as possible.”

Then laying her arms around the body of the inconsolable wife and mother she spoke words of consolation and cheer, assuring her that God in his own way and wisdom would destroy the power of the government of human beings by the lash, would break the chains that bind the hand and foot and visit a just retribution on all those responsible for the sale of babies from the breasts of mothers. She begged and pleaded earnestly that Laura abandon the attempt to escape and entreated her to surrender to the officers and return to her master, but the slave, chafing under the influence of a life of injustice and brutality, expressed a firmer determination than ever before, to continue on in her course and begged pitiably of her host that her presence in the home be not divulged. She threatened suicide if captured.

Mr. Schofield, himself, by this time had reached the house and instantly grasping the situation, requested of Mrs. Schofield a familiar old shawl and bonnet of hers. Dressed in these Laura, in company with Mr. Schofield, passed readily as Mary, his wife, among acquaintances of the latter, and successfully eluded all pursuit by the officers, who a half hour after her departure had ransacked the Schofield home from turret to foundation stone in search of the fleeing fugitive.

Reaching a zone safely out of reach of harm’s way, the leader of the church of the Society Friends, deposited his burden, wishing her God-speed in her undertaking and placing in her hand one dollar in gold to assist her on her journey, turned his horse, after many days on the road, and made his way slowly back home, with a painful heart.

Matilda A. Evans, M.D., a graduate of the Schofield School, opens her biography not with her subject but with a fugitive slave narrative: a mulatto woman collapsing in the kitchen of Martha Schofield's mother, pursued by bloodhounds and angry men. This choice signals that Evans will treat Schofield's life as part of a larger, dramatic struggle. The foreword further frames the work as a "historical and philosophical review" of Reconstruction, but the chapters that follow often read like adventure stories, complete with mob violence, narrow escapes, and extended passages of transcribed dialect.

A Biographer's Dual Voice

Evans writes in two distinct registers. In the foreword and chapter headings, she adopts the elevated, moralizing tone of a late-Victorian reformer: education is a battle "between ignorance and enlightenment, between superstition and science." Yet in the narrative chapters, she shifts to a colloquial, almost novelistic style, describing mobs that "pursued the trail" of a fugitive or a preacher who outwits assassins by disguising his horse. This juxtaposition suggests that Evans saw Schofield's story as both a philosophical argument and a thrilling tale. The reader should note how the author's own voice—that of a woman physician and alumna—inflects the account with personal investment, though she rarely inserts herself directly into the text.

Dialect as a Narrative Tool

Evans renders African American speech in heavy dialect, as when the preacher Bettis tells a lynch mob: "Well, ef dat be de way der gud Lawd hab fer me ter go, I's re'dy." The phonetic spelling extends to entire paragraphs of dialogue, creating a stark contrast with the standard English of the surrounding narration. This technique serves multiple purposes: it lends authenticity to the scenes, emphasizes the orality of the characters, and marks social distance between the educated narrator and her subjects. Modern readers may find the dialect jarring or patronizing, but within the text it functions as a deliberate stylistic choice to dramatize the humanity and wit of figures like Bettis, who uses his folksy speech to disarm his would-be killers.

The Mob as a Recurring Set Piece

Two extended episodes—the pursuit of Leslie Duncan in "Mob Spirit of Lick Skillet" and the near-lynching of preacher Bettis—share a common structure: a mob forms, a victim is cornered, and tension builds through dialogue and detail. Evans lingers on the mob's hunger, the victim's calm, and the ironic hospitality offered by the threatened. In the Bettis scene, the preacher feeds his executioners before they can act, a reversal that Evans underlines with rhetorical flourish: "they who had come, not to feed him but to make food of him for the worms." These set pieces suggest that Evans was as interested in the psychology of mob violence as in Schofield's educational work, though the excerpts do not reveal how these episodes connect to the biography's main thread.

The Horse as a Motif of Escape

A curious detail recurs in the Bettis episode: the preacher escapes death because his distinctive iron-gray horse is unavailable, forcing him to ride a different animal past the mob. The mob's leader asks about Bettis's whereabouts, and the disguised preacher directs them to a false location. The horse—known "to the whole country-side"—functions as a marker of identity and a near-fatal liability. Evans uses the animal to build suspense and to illustrate how small contingencies (an illness, a change of mount) alter the course of events. This motif of the recognizable horse echoes the opening chapter's bloodhounds, suggesting that Evans weaves a pattern of pursuit and evasion through the narrative, though the full pattern is only partially visible in the excerpts.

Readers approaching this text should be prepared for a work that oscillates between hagiography, local history, and adventure tale. Evans's choices in diction—from the stilted moralism of the foreword to the vernacular of her characters—reveal a writer trying to reconcile multiple purposes: to honor her mentor, to document Reconstruction violence, and to craft a compelling story. The excerpts offer no sustained portrait of Schofield herself; her presence is felt through the dedication and the school's legacy. Pay attention to how Evans handles point of view, especially in scenes where the biographer seems to channel the voices of those she writes about.

That book about Martha Schofield stayed with me long after I closed it—the way her relentless hope sat so quietly against all that violence and fury. It made me think of Child and Country: A Book of the Younger Generation — Background and Themes, which also asks what we owe the next generation. Both books linger, not for their sweep, but for that tender, stubborn faith. I still feel it sometimes.

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