By David M. Fryson

This article was originally published by Golden Seal Magazine.

One of the most atrocious of the many atrocities of American slavery involved white slaveholders using African American slaves for non-consensual relations. Anti-miscegenation laws, which forbade marriage between slaves and slaveholders, added to the problem by making it impossible to establish a sanctioned relationship even when the slaveholder and slave wanted one. It’s important to acknowledge and lament the systematic and vicious attacks on the humanity of slaves. Most of these types of abuses occurred to females, but, at times, even male slaves were subject to this exploitation. This article addresses an intriguing situation involving slaveholder Samuel I. Cabell and Mary Barnes, his slave. The story first came to public attention some years ago because  of James Haught’s research piece Institute: It Springs from an Epic Love Story. Haught is the editor emeritus of the West Virginia Gazette Mail. In a well-researched 1971 article, he  uncovered the then-hidden story of how West Virginia State College (now University) arose on the former land of Sam Cabell and how Institute (Kanawha County) became a majority African-American enclave. Importantly, he alluded to Sam and Mary’s relationship as a  “love story.”

A century before the U.S. Supreme Court invalidated our nation’s anti-miscegenation laws in the 1967 Loving v. Virginia decision, Sam and Mary were involved in an atypical relationship. While it wasn’t unusual for slaveholders to be involved with their slaves, this relationship was somewhat unique in its conjugal considerations.

Granted, Mary was a slave, so the relationship can’t be considered equitable even though Sam and Mary were open about  their relationship. While there’s evidence—anecdotal and documentary—that Mary maintained a strong presence, any relationship between a slave and slaveholder must be  strictly scrutinized. Due to the enormous imbalance of gender and racial power,  the notion of a truly consensual romantic relationship should be viewed as a potential exercise in white patriarchal authority.

Mary Barnes was born in Tidewater Virginia in 1815. Sam Cabell, born about 1802, was a  wealthy landowner and member of a well known Virginia political family. Sam purchased Mary and additional slaves around 1840. He worked some of his slaves in the Kanawha  Valley salt industry—known for its harsh labor conditions—and worked others on his farm and orchards in what’s now the Institute/West Dunbar area. At some point, Sam and Mary began a long-term intimate relationship that would produce 13 children.

Sam was a known Confederate sympathizer  and, from reports of the time, was bitter about  the South’s impending loss in the Civil War.  This makes any study of Sam and Mary’s relationship even harder because the head of this mixed-race family not only owned slaves but also was a vocal supporter of the Confederacy. This leads to a key question: Was Mary a victim of this unequal situation, or was  there something more to it? It’s reasonable to consider whether she was in an abusive relationship since, as a slave, she had no say in initiating it. On the other hand, she had, at the least, some unusual relational privileges.

Arguably, the best-known slaveholder/slave relationship in U.S. history is that of Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemmings, which was  publicly rumored but never admitted to at the time. By contrast, that of Sam and Mary was, to some extent, open and acknowledged.  For instance, for all 13 children born to this illegal-by-law union, Sam risked exposure by recording their births at the Kanawha County Courthouse—stating that he was  their father. The mere fact of claiming and  officially recording the paternity of these biracial children was unusual but not without precedence in the antebellum era.  Significantly, when their biracial children  came of age, each was sent north and enrolled  in private schools. These actions go against the established antebellum doctrine of Partus sequitur ventrem (“that which is brought forth  follows the womb”), by which the children of a slaveholder and a female slave retained  the status of the slave mother. 

Most important to this discussion are  Sam’s multiple wills directing that his  slaves, except for Mary and their children,  were to be hired-out then set free upon his death. The fact Sam required his slaves to be  leased-out for six years before being set free  indicates a chilling comfortableness with the institution of slavery. Reading further in the  wills, however, they indicate that proceeds  from the work and sale of these slaves would financially support Mary and the children.  Although Sam Cabell had an unconscionable  embrace of slavery, he ordered that income  from it be used to support his mixed-race  family upon his death.

The first of Sam’s three wills, written  on November 24, 1852, ensured that Mary  and their children would be set free and  receive all his property. He then ordered that  proceeds from the sale of his other slaves  benefit Mary and her children. In the will,  he referred to Mary as “my woman”—a term  of legal art indicating that Sam considered  her his wife. Additionally, while the first will  expressly emancipated Mary upon his death,  it also freed “her children” rather than “our  children.” This might seem to imply that Sam  was not claiming “her children” as his own.  A subsequent will, though, clears up this  ambiguity: “In the event of sudden demise,  this instrument of writing is intended to show  or make known that Mary Barnes and all  her children—namely, Elizabeth, Sam, Lucy,  Mary Jane, Sidney Ann, Soula, Eunice, Alice,  Marina (or Bobby), Braxton, and an infant not named—are and always have been free,  as I have every right to believe they are my  children.”

Upon Sam’s death on July 18, 1865, the implied marriage between the two became  truly evident. The stipulations of his final will freed Mary and the children.

Giving this unusual story an even stranger  twist, Sam Cabell lost his life on July 18, 1865—just months after the Civil War  ended—under dubious circumstances, when passions remained tense. The night Sam  died, seven pro-Union men had come to his  estate, allegedly to confront him because  of his persistent Confederate sympathies.  Eight days later, the West Virginia Journal, Summer 2020 reported, “The community here was thrown into considerable excitement on last Thursday  evening, by the report of the death of Samuel I. Cabell, a bitter and open rebel who lived some nine miles below Charleston.” 

The seven men were tried for murder. Their friends insisted that Sam had repeatedly  insulted the men because of their Union  loyalties and that they had gone to tell him they would no longer put up with it. The  men alleged that Cabell then jumped over  his fence brandishing a knife and that they shot him in self-defense.

Read more about the legacy of Mary Barnes, and how Black farmers are working to reclaim farmland HERE.

Family lore suggests Sam Cabell’s murder was because the men resented his  interracial family, not a general objection to his Confederate sympathies—a widespread sentiment in the Kanawha Valley. Interestingly, during this altercation, the perpetrators didn’t attack Mary or the children. The seven men were all acquitted.

After Sam’s murder, Mary, in a very bold  and almost unprecedented move, personally  probated his wills. In December 1865,  Kanawha County ruled that the wills were valid. The plot thickens, though, because  the court appointed Napoleon Bonaparte Cabell, an influential Charleston banker and  entrepreneur as guardian for the youngest  six of these biracial children. While it’s not completely clear if Napoleon was Sam’s  brother or cousin, it’s significant that a  white member of this influential family stepped in as guardian.

After some impressive legal maneuvering,  Mary had Sam’s substantial estate property and  assets bequeathed to her and their children.  In 1869, Mary Barnes also petitioned county  commissioners to change her and the children’s  surnames to Cabell. The county allowed the  change and divided the Cabell land among  Mary and her children, giving each a strip  from the river to the hill. In 1871, executors  valued the estate at $42,128.00, the equivalent  of nearly $1 million today.

So, the question remains, was Mary Barnes  Cabell a strong woman, a slave victim, or both?  Although her relationship with Sam Cabell  had many hallmarks of the abusive, unequal  standing of master/slave relationships, a  closer review indicates more to this story  than first meets the eye.

The name change is an important part  of Mary’s saga. Interracial marriage was  illegal in Virginia and in newly formed  West Virginia—remaining so until the  1967 Loving decision. This makes Mary  Barnes’ appeal for the name change even  more compelling. After Sam’s death,  she achieved what she was unable to do  under the law during his lifetime: assume  his surname. While it wasn’t unusual for  slaves to assume their former slaveholders’ Charleston director Calvin Grimm recently  brought the story of Mary Barnes and Sam Cabell  to the big screen, with a debut in February 2020  at the Charleston Coliseum and Convention  Center Little Theater. River of Hope was filmed  entirely in West Virginia, with more than half  the cast and crew being West Virginians. Grimm,  a graduate of West Virginia State University  and an Iraq War veteran, previously directed 37  Fallen and West Virginia Standing Together, both  focusing on West Virginia military veterans.  River of Hope is available through Amazon and  its streaming services surnames, this case is distinctive because it afforded Mary Barnes the legal status of  Sam Cabell’s widow. Importantly, the name  change wasn’t necessary for probating his  final will because the Kanawha County  Commission had already ruled in 1865 that  the will was valid.

There’s also other evidence that Mary and  Sam had a devoted relationship. For instance,  Mary was only 50 years old when Sam died.  From all reports, she was physically attractive  and a person of great substance, intellect,  and now wealth. Nevertheless, she never  remarried and lived 35 years after Sam’s  death as a widow. She died at age 85, the  matriarch of a noble family, surrounded by  family and friends.

One final evidence of marital devotion  became apparent after Mary’s death. On  the borders of the West Virginia State  University campus is the small Cabell Family  cemetery, which also contains the graves  of early college administrators. One of the  most prominent gravestones is a weathered  obelisk that belongs to Sam Cabell (actually  “Cabble,” an alternate spelling). Beside it is  a more modern headstone that marks the  final resting place of Mary Barnes Cabell. In  addition, two of their daughters and some  of their grandchildren are buried here—a  family together in death even as they were  in life.

In closing, human relationships are  complicated in the best of instances. In this most unequal circumstance, it’s impossible to  measure whether this was truly a relationship of love. Sam Cabell was a complicated and  ather unappealing figure in history. Some have understandably portrayed Mary Barnes Cabell as a victim.

Through her courageous efforts, Mary Barnes Cabell obtained the land that eventually  became a significant African-American  community. Mary’s progeny later sold much of the inherited land to the state to build the  West Virginia Colored Institute, forerunner of West Virginia State College, which became one of the most-respected Black colleges in  the nation during the 20^th century.  I have an inside family perspective because Sam and Mary are my wife Joy Morris Fryson’s  great-great-great-grandparents. I was reared  in the West Dunbar/Institute area but first heard of this story only when Joy and I started  dating in the early 1970s. Family matriarch Lottie Prillerman Morris (“Grandmother  Lottie”) was Joy’s paternal grandmother and the great-granddaughter of Mary Barnes and Sam Cabell. Grandmother Lottie, born nine years after Mary’s death, often spoke with pride about her great-grandmother and other family members and was thrilled when James Haught published his article about Sam and Mary.

While it may not be appropriate to label Sam Cabell and Mary Barnes’ relationship a  true “love story” because of the racial power  dynamics, it doesn’t do justice to Mary’s life and legacy to label her merely a victim. While she may have been victimized because of the  circumstances of her life and her relationship with Sam Cabell, she was ultimately a survivor and proved herself to be a strong, proud, and  courageous African-American woman and is a Shero in the memory of her family and the  community she fostered.

The Prillermans

Mary and Sam’s children, grandchildren, and beyond became educated, successful  African-American leaders in West Virginia and  nationally. For instance, Mary’s granddaughter Mary Brown married Harvey Prillerman, an influential African-American blacksmith and  dentist. Harvey settled in Sissonville (Kanawha County) after he and his brothers had walked to the area from Virginia after slavery. Harvey and Mary Prillerman are Joy’s great-grandparents  and Grandmother Lottie’s parents. Another granddaughter, Mattie E. Brown, graduated from Wayland Seminary and married Harvey’s  younger brother Byrd Prillerman in 1893. Dr.  Byrd Prillerman was a religious leader and an influential educator; together, Byrd and Mattie  were an educated power couple throughout West Virginia. Dr. Prillerman was one of the founders of West Virginia State University and a close friend of Booker T. Washington.  These are just two of many examples of the family’s success.