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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: My Bondage and My Freedom</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Frederick Douglass</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January, 1995 [eBook #202]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 12, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Mike Lough and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BONDAGE AND MY FREEDOM ***</div> + +<h1>MY BONDAGE and MY FREEDOM</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Frederick Douglass</h2> + +<p> +By a principle essential to Christianity, a PERSON is eternally differenced +from a THING; so that the idea of a HUMAN BEING, necessarily excludes the idea +of PROPERTY IN THAT BEING. —COLERIDGE +</p> + +<p> +Entered according to Act of Congress in 1855 by Frederick Douglass in the +Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New York +</p> + +<p class="center"> +TO<br/> +HONORABLE GERRIT SMITH,<br/> +AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF<br/> +ESTEEM FOR HIS CHARACTER,<br/> +ADMIRATION FOR HIS GENIUS AND BENEVOLENCE,<br/> +AFFECTION FOR HIS PERSON, AND<br/> +GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP,<br/> +AND AS<br/> +A Small but most Sincere Acknowledgement of<br/> +HIS PRE-EMINENT SERVICES IN BEHALF OF THE RIGHTS AND LIBERTIES<br/> +OF AN<br/> +AFFLICTED, DESPISED AND DEEPLY OUTRAGED PEOPLE,<br/> +BY RANKING SLAVERY WITH PIRACY AND MURDER,<br/> +AND BY<br/> +DENYING IT EITHER A LEGAL OR CONSTITUTIONAL EXISTENCE,<br/> +This Volume is Respectfully Dedicated,<br/> +BY HIS FAITHFUL AND FIRMLY ATTACHED FRIEND,<br/> +<br/> +FREDERICK DOUGLAS.<br/> +ROCHESTER, N.Y. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"><b>MY BONDAGE and MY FREEDOM</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0002">EDITOR’S PREFACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_INTR">INTRODUCTION</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I. <i>Childhood</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II. <i>Removed from My First Home</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III. <i>Parentage</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV. <i>A General Survey of the Slave Plantation</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V. <i>Gradual Initiation to the Mysteries of Slavery</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI. <i>Treatment of Slaves on Lloyd’s Plantation</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER VII. <i>Life in the Great House</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER VIII. <i>A Chapter of Horrors</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER IX. <i>Personal Treatment</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X. <i>Life in Baltimore</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER XI. <i>“A Change Came O’er the Spirit of My Dream”</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER XII. <i>Religious Nature Awakened</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013">CHAPTER XIII. <i>The Vicissitudes of Slave Life</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014">CHAPTER XIV. <i>Experience in St. Michael’s</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015">CHAPTER XV. <i>Covey, the Negro Breaker</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016">CHAPTER XVI. <i>Another Pressure of the Tyrant’s Vice</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017">CHAPTER XVII. <i>The Last Flogging</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0018">CHAPTER XVIII. <i>New Relations and Duties</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0019">CHAPTER XIX. <i>The Run-Away Plot</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0020">CHAPTER XX. <i>Apprenticeship Life</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0021">CHAPTER XXI. <i>My Escape from Slavery</i></a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0025"><b>LIFE as a FREEMAN</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0022">CHAPTER XXII. <i>Liberty Attained</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0023">CHAPTER XXIII. <i>Introduced to the Abolitionists</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0024">CHAPTER XXIV. <i>Twenty-One Months in Great Britain</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0025">CHAPTER XXV. <i>Various Incidents</i></a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0030">RECEPTION SPEECH [10]. At Finsbury Chapel, Moorfields, England, May 12,</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0031">Dr. Campbell’s Reply</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0032">LETTER TO HIS OLD MASTER. [11]. To My Old Master, Thomas Auld</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0033">THE NATURE OF SLAVERY. Extract from a Lecture on Slavery, at Rochester,</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0034">INHUMANITY OF SLAVERY. Extract from A Lecture on Slavery, at Rochester,</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0035">WHAT TO THE SLAVE IS THE FOURTH OF JULY?. Extract from an Oration, at</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0036">THE INTERNAL SLAVE TRADE. Extract from an Oration, at Rochester, July</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0037">THE SLAVERY PARTY. Extract from a Speech Delivered before the A. A. S.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0038">THE ANTI-SLAVERY MOVEMENT. Extracts from a Lecture before Various</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_FOOT">FOOTNOTES</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"></a> +MY BONDAGE and MY FREEDOM</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"></a> +EDITOR’S PREFACE</h2> + +<p> +If the volume now presented to the public were a mere work of ART, the history +of its misfortune might be written in two very simple words—TOO LATE. The +nature and character of slavery have been subjects of an almost endless variety +of artistic representation; and after the brilliant achievements in that field, +and while those achievements are yet fresh in the memory of the million, he who +would add another to the legion, must possess the charm of transcendent +excellence, or apologize for something worse than rashness. The reader is, +therefore, assured, with all due promptitude, that his attention is not invited +to a work of ART, but to a work of FACTS—Facts, terrible and almost +incredible, it may be yet FACTS, nevertheless. +</p> + +<p> +I am authorized to say that there is not a fictitious name nor place in the +whole volume; but that names and places are literally given, and that every +transaction therein described actually transpired. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps the best Preface to this volume is furnished in the following letter of +Mr. Douglass, written in answer to my urgent solicitation for such a work: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +ROCHESTER, N. Y. <i>July</i> 2, 1855. +</p> + +<p> +DEAR FRIEND: I have long entertained, as you very well know, a somewhat +positive repugnance to writing or speaking anything for the public, which +could, with any degree of plausibilty, make me liable to the imputation of +seeking personal notoriety, for its own sake. Entertaining that feeling very +sincerely, and permitting its control, perhaps, quite unreasonably, I have +often refused to narrate my personal experience in public anti-slavery +meetings, and in sympathizing circles, when urged to do so by friends, with +whose views and wishes, ordinarily, it were a pleasure to comply. In my letters +and speeches, I have generally aimed to discuss the question of Slavery in the +light of fundamental principles, and upon facts, notorious and open to all; +making, I trust, no more of the fact of my own former enslavement, than +circumstances seemed absolutely to require. I have never placed my opposition +to slavery on a basis so narrow as my own enslavement, but rather upon the +indestructible and unchangeable laws of human nature, every one of which is +perpetually and flagrantly violated by the slave system. I have also felt that +it was best for those having histories worth the writing—or supposed to +be so—to commit such work to hands other than their own. To write of +one’s self, in such a manner as not to incur the imputation of weakness, +vanity, and egotism, is a work within the ability of but few; and I have little +reason to believe that I belong to that fortunate few. +</p> + +<p> +These considerations caused me to hesitate, when first you kindly urged me to +prepare for publication a full account of my life as a slave, and my life as a +freeman. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, I see, with you, many reasons for regarding my autobiography as +exceptional in its character, and as being, in some sense, naturally beyond the +reach of those reproaches which honorable and sensitive minds dislike to incur. +It is not to illustrate any heroic achievements of a man, but to vindicate a +just and beneficent principle, in its application to the whole human family, by +letting in the light of truth upon a system, esteemed by some as a blessing, +and by others as a curse and a crime. I agree with you, that this system is now +at the bar of public opinion—not only of this country, but of the whole +civilized world—for judgment. Its friends have made for it the usual +plea—“not guilty;” the case must, therefore, proceed. Any +facts, either from slaves, slaveholders, or by-standers, calculated to +enlighten the public mind, by revealing the true nature, character, and +tendency of the slave system, are in order, and can scarcely be innocently +withheld. +</p> + +<p> +I see, too, that there are special reasons why I should write my own biography, +in preference to employing another to do it. Not only is slavery on trial, but +unfortunately, the enslaved people are also on trial. It is alleged, that they +are, naturally, inferior; that they are <i>so low</i> in the scale of humanity, +and so utterly stupid, that they are unconscious of their wrongs, and do not +apprehend their rights. Looking, then, at your request, from this stand-point, +and wishing everything of which you think me capable to go to the benefit of my +afflicted people, I part with my doubts and hesitation, and proceed to furnish +you the desired manuscript; hoping that you may be able to make such +arrangements for its publication as shall be best adapted to accomplish that +good which you so enthusiastically anticipate. +</p> + +<p> +FREDERICK DOUGLASS +</p> + +<p> +There was little necessity for doubt and hesitation on the part of Mr. +Douglass, as to the propriety of his giving to the world a full account of +himself. A man who was born and brought up in slavery, a living witness of its +horrors; who often himself experienced its cruelties; and who, despite the +depressing influences surrounding his birth, youth and manhood, has risen, from +a dark and almost absolute obscurity, to the distinguished position which he +now occupies, might very well assume the existence of a commendable curiosity, +on the part of the public, to know the facts of his remarkable history. +</p> + +<p> +EDITOR +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"></a> +INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p> +When a man raises himself from the lowest condition in society to the highest, +mankind pay him the tribute of their admiration; when he accomplishes this +elevation by native energy, guided by prudence and wisdom, their admiration is +increased; but when his course, onward and upward, excellent in itself, +furthermore proves a possible, what had hitherto been regarded as an +impossible, reform, then he becomes a burning and a shining light, on which the +aged may look with gladness, the young with hope, and the down-trodden, as a +representative of what they may themselves become. To such a man, dear reader, +it is my privilege to introduce you. +</p> + +<p> +The life of Frederick Douglass, recorded in the pages which follow, is not +merely an example of self-elevation under the most adverse circumstances; it +is, moreover, a noble vindication of the highest aims of the American +anti-slavery movement. The real object of that movement is not only to +disenthrall, it is, also, to bestow upon the Negro the exercise of all those +rights, from the possession of which he has been so long debarred. +</p> + +<p> +But this full recognition of the colored man to the right, and the entire +admission of the same to the full privileges, political, religious and social, +of manhood, requires powerful effort on the part of the enthralled, as well as +on the part of those who would disenthrall them. The people at large must feel +the conviction, as well as admit the abstract logic, of human equality; the +Negro, for the first time in the world’s history, brought in full contact +with high civilization, must prove his title first to all that is demanded for +him; in the teeth of unequal chances, he must prove himself equal to the mass +of those who oppress him—therefore, absolutely superior to his apparent +fate, and to their relative ability. And it is most cheering to the friends of +freedom, today, that evidence of this equality is rapidly accumulating, not +from the ranks of the half-freed colored people of the free states, but from +the very depths of slavery itself; the indestructible equality of man to man is +demonstrated by the ease with which black men, scarce one remove from +barbarism—if slavery can be honored with such a distinction—vault +into the high places of the most advanced and painfully acquired civilization. +Ward and Garnett, Wells Brown and Pennington, Loguen and Douglass, are banners +on the outer wall, under which abolition is fighting its most successful +battles, because they are living exemplars of the practicability of the most +radical abolitionism; for, they were all of them born to the doom of slavery, +some of them remained slaves until adult age, yet they all have not only won +equality to their white fellow citizens, in civil, religious, political and +social rank, but they have also illustrated and adorned our common country by +their genius, learning and eloquence. +</p> + +<p> +The characteristics whereby Mr. Douglass has won first rank among these +remarkable men, and is still rising toward highest rank among living Americans, +are abundantly laid bare in the book before us. Like the autobiography of Hugh +Miller, it carries us so far back into early childhood, as to throw light upon +the question, “when positive and persistent memory begins in the human +being.” And, like Hugh Miller, he must have been a shy old-fashioned +child, occasionally oppressed by what he could not well account for, peering +and poking about among the layers of right and wrong, of tyrant and thrall, and +the wonderfulness of that hopeless tide of things which brought power to one +race, and unrequited toil to another, until, finally, he stumbled upon his +“first-found Ammonite,” hidden away down in the depths of his own +nature, and which revealed to him the fact that liberty and right, for all men, +were anterior to slavery and wrong. When his knowledge of the world was bounded +by the visible horizon on Col. Lloyd’s plantation, and while every thing +around him bore a fixed, iron stamp, as if it had always been so, this was, for +one so young, a notable discovery. +</p> + +<p> +To his uncommon memory, then, we must add a keen and accurate insight into men +and things; an original breadth of common sense which enabled him to see, and +weigh, and compare whatever passed before him, and which kindled a desire to +search out and define their relations to other things not so patent, but which +never succumbed to the marvelous nor the supernatural; a sacred thirst for +liberty and for learning, first as a means of attaining liberty, then as an end +in itself most desirable; a will; an unfaltering energy and determination to +obtain what his soul pronounced desirable; a majestic self-hood; determined +courage; a deep and agonizing sympathy with his embruted, crushed and bleeding +fellow slaves, and an extraordinary depth of passion, together with that rare +alliance between passion and intellect, which enables the former, when deeply +roused, to excite, develop and sustain the latter. +</p> + +<p> +With these original gifts in view, let us look at his schooling; the fearful +discipline through which it pleased God to prepare him for the high calling on +which he has since entered—the advocacy of emancipation by the people who +are not slaves. And for this special mission, his plantation education was +better than any he could have acquired in any lettered school. What he needed, +was facts and experiences, welded to acutely wrought up sympathies, and these +he could not elsewhere have obtained, in a manner so peculiarly adapted to his +nature. His physical being was well trained, also, running wild until advanced +into boyhood; hard work and light diet, thereafter, and a skill in handicraft +in youth. +</p> + +<p> +For his special mission, then, this was, considered in connection with his +natural gifts, a good schooling; and, for his special mission, he doubtless +“left school” just at the proper moment. Had he remained longer in +slavery—had he fretted under bonds until the ripening of manhood and its +passions, until the drear agony of slave-wife and slave-children had been piled +upon his already bitter experiences—then, not only would his own history +have had another termination, but the drama of American slavery would have been +essentially varied; for I cannot resist the belief, that the boy who learned to +read and write as he did, who taught his fellow slaves these precious +acquirements as he did, who plotted for their mutual escape as he did, would, +when a man at bay, strike a blow which would make slavery reel and stagger. +Furthermore, blows and insults he bore, at the moment, without resentment; deep +but suppressed emotion rendered him insensible to their sting; but it was +afterward, when the memory of them went seething through his brain, breeding a +fiery indignation at his injured self-hood, that the resolve came to resist, +and the time fixed when to resist, and the plot laid, how to resist; and he +always kept his self-pledged word. In what he undertook, in this line, he +looked fate in the face, and had a cool, keen look at the relation of means to +ends. Henry Bibb, to avoid chastisement, strewed his master’s bed with +charmed leaves and <i>was whipped</i>. Frederick Douglass quietly pocketed a +like <i>fetiche</i>, compared his muscles with those of Covey—and +<i>whipped him</i>. +</p> + +<p> +In the history of his life in bondage, we find, well developed, that inherent +and continuous energy of character which will ever render him distinguished. +What his hand found to do, he did with his might; even while conscious that he +was wronged out of his daily earnings, he worked, and worked hard. At his daily +labor he went with a will; with keen, well set eye, brawny chest, lithe figure, +and fair sweep of arm, he would have been king among calkers, had that been his +mission. +</p> + +<p> +It must not be overlooked, in this glance at his education, that Mr. Douglass +lacked one aid to which so many men of mark have been deeply indebted—he +had neither a mother’s care, nor a mother’s culture, save that +which slavery grudgingly meted out to him. Bitter nurse! may not even her +features relax with human feeling, when she gazes at such offspring! How +susceptible he was to the kindly influences of mother-culture, may be gathered +from his own words, on page 57: “It has been a life-long standing grief +to me, that I know so little of my mother, and that I was so early separated +from her. The counsels of her love must have been beneficial to me. The side +view of her face is imaged on my memory, and I take few steps in life, without +feeling her presence; but the image is mute, and I have no striking words of +hers treasured up.” +</p> + +<p> +From the depths of chattel slavery in Maryland, our author escaped into the +caste-slavery of the north, in New Bedford, Massachusetts. Here he found +oppression assuming another, and hardly less bitter, form; of that very +handicraft which the greed of slavery had taught him, his half-freedom denied +him the exercise for an honest living; he found himself one of a +class—free colored men—whose position he has described in the +following words: +</p> + +<p> +“Aliens are we in our native land. The fundamental principles of the +republic, to which the humblest white man, whether born here or elsewhere, may +appeal with confidence, in the hope of awakening a favorable response, are held +to be inapplicable to us. The glorious doctrines of your revolutionary fathers, +and the more glorious teachings of the Son of God, are construed and applied +against us. We are literally scourged beyond the beneficent range of both +authorities, human and divine. * * * * American humanity hates us, scorns us, +disowns and denies, in a thousand ways, our very personality. The outspread +wing of American christianity, apparently broad enough to give shelter to a +perishing world, refuses to cover us. To us, its bones are brass, and its +features iron. In running thither for shelter and succor, we have only fled +from the hungry blood-hound to the devouring wolf—from a corrupt and +selfish world, to a hollow and hypocritical church.”—<i>Speech +before American and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society, May</i>, 1854. +</p> + +<p> +Four years or more, from 1837 to 1841, he struggled on, in New Bedford, sawing +wood, rolling casks, or doing what labor he might, to support himself and young +family; four years he brooded over the scars which slavery and semi-slavery had +inflicted upon his body and soul; and then, with his wounds yet unhealed, he +fell among the Garrisonians—a glorious waif to those most ardent +reformers. It happened one day, at Nantucket, that he, diffidently and +reluctantly, was led to address an anti-slavery meeting. He was about the age +when the younger Pitt entered the House of Commons; like Pitt, too, he stood up +a born orator. +</p> + +<p> +William Lloyd Garrison, who was happily present, writes thus of Mr. +Douglass’ maiden effort; “I shall never forget his first speech at +the convention—the extraordinary emotion it excited in my own +mind—the powerful impression it created upon a crowded auditory, +completely taken by surprise. * * * I think I never hated slavery so intensely +as at that moment; certainly, my perception of the enormous outrage which is +inflicted by it on the godlike nature of its victims, was rendered far more +clear than ever. There stood one in physical proportions and stature commanding +and exact—in intellect richly endowed—in natural eloquence a +prodigy.” <a href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a> +</p> + +<p> +It is of interest to compare Mr. Douglass’s account of this meeting with +Mr. Garrison’s. Of the two, I think the latter the most correct. It must +have been a grand burst of eloquence! The pent up agony, indignation and pathos +of an abused and harrowed boyhood and youth, bursting out in all their +freshness and overwhelming earnestness! +</p> + +<p> +This unique introduction to its great leader, led immediately to the employment +of Mr. Douglass as an agent by the American Anti-Slavery Society. So far as his +self-relying and independent character would permit, he became, after the +strictest sect, a Garrisonian. It is not too much to say, that he formed a +complement which they needed, and they were a complement equally necessary to +his “make-up.” With his deep and keen sensitiveness to wrong, and +his wonderful memory, he came from the land of bondage full of its woes and its +evils, and painting them in characters of living light; and, on his part, he +found, told out in sound Saxon phrase, all those principles of justice and +right and liberty, which had dimly brooded over the dreams of his youth, +seeking definite forms and verbal expression. It must have been an electric +flashing of thought, and a knitting of soul, granted to but few in this life, +and will be a life-long memory to those who participated in it. In the society, +moreover, of Wendell Phillips, Edmund Quincy, William Lloyd Garrison, and other +men of earnest faith and refined culture, Mr. Douglass enjoyed the high +advantage of their assistance and counsel in the labor of self-culture, to +which he now addressed himself with wonted energy. Yet, these gentlemen, +although proud of Frederick Douglass, failed to fathom, and bring out to the +light of day, the highest qualities of his mind; the force of their own +education stood in their own way: they did not delve into the mind of a colored +man for capacities which the pride of race led them to believe to be restricted +to their own Saxon blood. Bitter and vindictive sarcasm, irresistible mimicry, +and a pathetic narrative of his own experiences of slavery, were the +intellectual manifestations which they encouraged him to exhibit on the +platform or in the lecture desk. +</p> + +<p> +A visit to England, in 1845, threw Mr. Douglass among men and women of earnest +souls and high culture, and who, moreover, had never drank of the bitter waters +of American caste. For the first time in his life, he breathed an atmosphere +congenial to the longings of his spirit, and felt his manhood free and +unrestricted. The cordial and manly greetings of the British and Irish +audiences in public, and the refinement and elegance of the social circles in +which he mingled, not only as an equal, but as a recognized man of genius, +were, doubtless, genial and pleasant resting places in his hitherto thorny and +troubled journey through life. There are joys on the earth, and, to the +wayfaring fugitive from American slavery or American caste, this is one of +them. +</p> + +<p> +But his sojourn in England was more than a joy to Mr. Douglass. Like the +platform at Nantucket, it awakened him to the consciousness of new powers that +lay in him. From the pupilage of Garrisonism he rose to the dignity of a +teacher and a thinker; his opinions on the broader aspects of the great +American question were earnestly and incessantly sought, from various points of +view, and he must, perforce, bestir himself to give suitable answer. With that +prompt and truthful perception which has led their sisters in all ages of the +world to gather at the feet and support the hands of reformers, the gentlewomen +of England <a href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2"><small>2</small></a> were +foremost to encourage and strengthen him to carve out for himself a path fitted +to his powers and energies, in the life-battle against slavery and caste to +which he was pledged. And one stirring thought, inseparable from the British +idea of the evangel of freedom, must have smote his ear from every side— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Hereditary bondmen! know ye not<br/> +Who would be free, themselves mast strike the blow? +</p> + +<p> +The result of this visit was, that on his return to the United States, he +established a newspaper. This proceeding was sorely against the wishes and the +advice of the leaders of the American Anti-Slavery Society, but our author had +fully grown up to the conviction of a truth which they had once promulged, but +now forgotten, to wit: that in their own +elevation—self-elevation—colored men have a blow to strike +“on their own hook,” against slavery and caste. Differing from his +Boston friends in this matter, diffident in his own abilities, reluctant at +their dissuadings, how beautiful is the loyalty with which he still clung to +their principles in all things else, and even in this. +</p> + +<p> +Now came the trial hour. Without cordial support from any large body of men or +party on this side the Atlantic, and too far distant in space and immediate +interest to expect much more, after the much already done, on the other side, +he stood up, almost alone, to the arduous labor and heavy expenditure of editor +and lecturer. The Garrison party, to which he still adhered, did not want a +<i>colored</i> newspaper—there was an odor of <i>caste</i> about it; the +Liberty party could hardly be expected to give warm support to a man who smote +their principles as with a hammer; and the wide gulf which separated the free +colored people from the Garrisonians, also separated them from their brother, +Frederick Douglass. +</p> + +<p> +The arduous nature of his labors, from the date of the establishment of his +paper, may be estimated by the fact, that anti-slavery papers in the United +States, even while organs of, and when supported by, anti-slavery parties, +have, with a single exception, failed to pay expenses. Mr. Douglass has +maintained, and does maintain, his paper without the support of any party, and +even in the teeth of the opposition of those from whom he had reason to expect +counsel and encouragement. He has been compelled, at one and the same time, and +almost constantly, during the past seven years, to contribute matter to its +columns as editor, and to raise funds for its support as lecturer. It is within +bounds to say, that he has expended twelve thousand dollars of his own hard +earned money, in publishing this paper, a larger sum than has been contributed +by any one individual for the general advancement of the colored people. There +had been many other papers published and edited by colored men, beginning as +far back as 1827, when the Rev. Samuel E. Cornish and John B. Russworm (a +graduate of Bowdoin college, and afterward Governor of Cape Palmas) published +the <i>Freedom’s Journal</i>, in New York City; probably not less than +one hundred newspaper enterprises have been started in the United States, by +free colored men, born free, and some of them of liberal education and fair +talents for this work; but, one after another, they have fallen through, +although, in several instances, anti-slavery friends contributed to their +support. <a href="#linknote-3" name="linknoteref-3"><small>3</small></a> It had +almost been given up, as an impracticable thing, to maintain a colored +newspaper, when Mr. Douglass, with fewest early advantages of all his +competitors, essayed, and has proved the thing perfectly practicable, and, +moreover, of great public benefit. This paper, in addition to its power in +holding up the hands of those to whom it is especially devoted, also affords +irrefutable evidence of the justice, safety and practicability of Immediate +Emancipation; it further proves the immense loss which slavery inflicts on the +land while it dooms such energies as his to the hereditary degradation of +slavery. +</p> + +<p> +It has been said in this Introduction, that Mr. Douglass had raised himself by +his own efforts to the highest position in society. As a successful editor, in +our land, he occupies this position. Our editors rule the land, and he is one +of them. As an orator and thinker, his position is equally high, in the opinion +of his countrymen. If a stranger in the United States would seek its most +distinguished men—the movers of public opinion—he will find their +names mentioned, and their movements chronicled, under the head of “BY +MAGNETIC TELEGRAPH,” in the daily papers. The keen caterers for the +public attention, set down, in this column, such men only as have won high mark +in the public esteem. During the past winter—1854-5—very frequent +mention of Frederick Douglass was made under this head in the daily papers; his +name glided as often—this week from Chicago, next week from +Boston—over the lightning wires, as the name of any other man, of +whatever note. To no man did the people more widely nor more earnestly say, +<i>“Tell me thy thought!”</i> And, somehow or other, revolution +seemed to follow in his wake. His were not the mere words of eloquence which +Kossuth speaks of, that delight the ear and then pass away. No! They were +<i>work</i>-able, <i>do</i>-able words, that brought forth fruits in the +revolution in Illinois, and in the passage of the franchise resolutions by the +Assembly of New York. +</p> + +<p> +And the secret of his power, what is it? He is a Representative American +man—a type of his countrymen. Naturalists tell us that a full grown man +is a resultant or representative of all animated nature on this globe; +beginning with the early embryo state, then representing the lowest forms of +organic life, <a href="#linknote-4" name="linknoteref-4"><small>4</small></a> +and passing through every subordinate grade or type, until he reaches the last +and highest—manhood. In like manner, and to the fullest extent, has +Frederick Douglass passed through every gradation of rank comprised in our +national make-up, and bears upon his person and upon his soul every thing that +is American. And he has not only full sympathy with every thing American; his +proclivity or bent, to active toil and visible progress, are in the strictly +national direction, delighting to outstrip “all creation.” +</p> + +<p> +Nor have the natural gifts, already named as his, lost anything by his severe +training. When unexcited, his mental processes are probably slow, but +singularly clear in perception, and wide in vision, the unfailing memory +bringing up all the facts in their every aspect; incongruities he lays hold of +incontinently, and holds up on the edge of his keen and telling wit. But this +wit never descends to frivolity; it is rigidly in the keeping of his truthful +common sense, and always used in illustration or proof of some point which +could not so readily be reached any other way. “Beware of a Yankee when +he is feeding,” is a shaft that strikes home in a matter never so laid +bare by satire before. “The Garrisonian views of disunion, if carried to +a successful issue, would only place the people of the north in the same +relation to American slavery which they now bear to the slavery of Cuba or the +Brazils,” is a statement, in a few words, which contains the result and +the evidence of an argument which might cover pages, but could not carry +stronger conviction, nor be stated in less pregnable form. In proof of this, I +may say, that having been submitted to the attention of the Garrisonians in +print, in March, it was repeated before them at their business meeting in +May—the platform, <i>par excellence</i>, on which they invite free fight, +<i>a l’outrance</i>, to all comers. It was given out in the clear, +ringing tones, wherewith the hall of shields was wont to resound of old, yet +neither Garrison, nor Phillips, nor May, nor Remond, nor Foster, nor Burleigh, +with his subtle steel of “the ice brook’s temper,” ventured +to break a lance upon it! The doctrine of the dissolution of the Union, as a +means for the abolition of American slavery, was silenced upon the lips that +gave it birth, and in the presence of an array of defenders who compose the +keenest intellects in the land. +</p> + +<p> +<i>“The man who is right is a majority”</i> is an aphorism struck +out by Mr. Douglass in that great gathering of the friends of freedom, at +Pittsburgh, in 1852, where he towered among the highest, because, with +abilities inferior to none, and moved more deeply than any, there was neither +policy nor party to trammel the outpourings of his soul. Thus we find, opposed +to all disadvantages which a black man in the United States labors and +struggles under, is this one vantage ground—when the chance comes, and +the audience where he may have a say, he stands forth the freest, most deeply +moved and most earnest of all men. +</p> + +<p> +It has been said of Mr. Douglass, that his descriptive and declamatory powers, +admitted to be of the very highest order, take precedence of his logical force. +Whilst the schools might have trained him to the exhibition of the formulas of +deductive logic, nature and circumstances forced him into the exercise of the +higher faculties required by induction. The first ninety pages of this +“Life in Bondage,” afford specimens of observing, comparing, and +careful classifying, of such superior character, that it is difficult to +believe them the results of a child’s thinking; he questions the earth, +and the children and the slaves around him again and again, and finally looks +to <i>“God in the sky”</i> for the why and the wherefore of the +unnatural thing, slavery. <i>“Yes, if indeed thou art, wherefore dost +thou suffer us to be slain?”</i> is the only prayer and worship of the +God-forsaken Dodos in the heart of Africa. Almost the same was his prayer. One +of his earliest observations was that white children should know their ages, +while the colored children were ignorant of theirs; and the songs of the slaves +grated on his inmost soul, because a something told him that harmony in sound, +and music of the spirit, could not consociate with miserable degradation. +</p> + +<p> +To such a mind, the ordinary processes of logical deduction are like proving +that two and two make four. Mastering the intermediate steps by an intuitive +glance, or recurring to them as Ferguson resorted to geometry, it goes down to +the deeper relation of things, and brings out what may seem, to some, mere +statements, but which are new and brilliant generalizations, each resting on a +broad and stable basis. Thus, Chief Justice Marshall gave his decisions, and +then told Brother Story to look up the authorities—and they never +differed from him. Thus, also, in his “Lecture on the Anti-Slavery +Movement,” delivered before the Rochester Ladies’ Anti-Slavery +Society, Mr. Douglass presents a mass of thought, which, without any showy +display of logic on his part, requires an exercise of the reasoning faculties +of the reader to keep pace with him. And his “Claims of the Negro +Ethnologically Considered,” is full of new and fresh thoughts on the +dawning science of race-history. +</p> + +<p> +If, as has been stated, his intellection is slow, when unexcited, it is most +prompt and rapid when he is thoroughly aroused. Memory, logic, wit, sarcasm, +invective pathos and bold imagery of rare structural beauty, well up as from a +copious fountain, yet each in its proper place, and contributing to form a +whole, grand in itself, yet complete in the minutest proportions. It is most +difficult to hedge him in a corner, for his positions are taken so +deliberately, that it is rare to find a point in them undefended aforethought. +Professor Reason tells me the following: “On a recent visit of a public +nature, to Philadelphia, and in a meeting composed mostly of his colored +brethren, Mr. Douglass proposed a comparison of views in the matters of the +relations and duties of ‘our people;’ he holding that prejudice was +the result of condition, and could be conquered by the efforts of the degraded +themselves. A gentleman present, distinguished for logical acumen and subtlety, +and who had devoted no small portion of the last twenty-five years to the study +and elucidation of this very question, held the opposite view, that prejudice +is innate and unconquerable. He terminated a series of well dove-tailed, +Socratic questions to Mr. Douglass, with the following: ‘If the +legislature at Harrisburgh should awaken, to-morrow morning, and find each +man’s skin turned black and his hair woolly, what could they do to remove +prejudice?’ ‘Immediately pass laws entitling black men to all +civil, political and social privileges,’ was the instant reply—and +the questioning ceased.” +</p> + +<p> +The most remarkable mental phenomenon in Mr. Douglass, is his style in writing +and speaking. In March, 1855, he delivered an address in the assembly chamber +before the members of the legislature of the state of New York. An eye witness +<a href="#linknote-5" name="linknoteref-5"><small>5</small></a> describes the +crowded and most intelligent audience, and their rapt attention to the speaker, +as the grandest scene he ever witnessed in the capitol. Among those whose eyes +were riveted on the speaker full two hours and a half, were Thurlow Weed and +Lieutenant Governor Raymond; the latter, at the conclusion of the address, +exclaimed to a friend, “I would give twenty thousand dollars, if I could +deliver that address in that manner.” Mr. Raymond is a first class +graduate of Dartmouth, a rising politician, ranking foremost in the +legislature; of course, his ideal of oratory must be of the most polished and +finished description. +</p> + +<p> +The style of Mr. Douglass in writing, is to me an intellectual puzzle. The +strength, affluence and terseness may easily be accounted for, because the +style of a man is the man; but how are we to account for that rare polish in +his style of writing, which, most critically examined, seems the result of +careful early culture among the best classics of our language; it equals if it +does not surpass the style of Hugh Miller, which was the wonder of the British +literary public, until he unraveled the mystery in the most interesting of +autobiographies. But Frederick Douglass was still calking the seams of +Baltimore clippers, and had only written a “pass,” at the age when +Miller’s style was already formed. +</p> + +<p> +I asked William Whipper, of Pennsylvania, the gentleman alluded to above, +whether he thought Mr. Douglass’s power inherited from the Negroid, or +from what is called the Caucasian side of his make up? After some reflection, +he frankly answered, “I must admit, although sorry to do so, that the +Caucasian predominates.” At that time, I almost agreed with him; but, +facts narrated in the first part of this work, throw a different light on this +interesting question. +</p> + +<p> +We are left in the dark as to who was the paternal ancestor of our author; a +fact which generally holds good of the Romuluses and Remuses who are to +inaugurate the new birth of our republic. In the absence of testimony from the +Caucasian side, we must see what evidence is given on the other side of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +“My grandmother, though advanced in years, * * * was yet a woman of power +and spirit. She was marvelously straight in figure, elastic and +muscular.” (p. 46.) +</p> + +<p> +After describing her skill in constructing nets, her perseverance in using +them, and her wide-spread fame in the agricultural way he adds, “It +happened to her—as it will happen to any careful and thrifty person +residing in an ignorant and improvident neighborhood—to enjoy the +reputation of being born to good luck.” And his grandmother was a black +woman. +</p> + +<p> +“My mother was tall, and finely proportioned; of deep black, glossy +complexion; had regular features; and among other slaves was remarkably sedate +in her manners.” “Being a field hand, she was obliged to walk +twelve miles and return, between nightfall and daybreak, to see her +children” (p. 54.) “I shall never forget the indescribable +expression of her countenance when I told her that I had had no food since +morning. * * * There was pity in her glance at me, and a fiery indignation at +Aunt Katy at the same time; * * * * she read Aunt Katy a lecture which she +never forgot.” (p. 56.) “I learned after my mother’s death, +that she could read, and that she was the <i>only</i> one of all the slaves and +colored people in Tuckahoe who enjoyed that advantage. How she acquired this +knowledge, I know not, for Tuckahoe is the last place in the world where she +would be apt to find facilities for learning.” (p. 57.) “There is, +in <i>Prichard’s Natural History of Man</i>, the head of a +figure—on page 157—the features of which so resemble those of my +mother, that I often recur to it with something of the feeling which I suppose +others experience when looking upon the pictures of dear departed ones.” +(p. 52.) +</p> + +<p> +The head alluded to is copied from the statue of Ramses the Great, an Egyptian +king of the nineteenth dynasty. The authors of the <i>Types of Mankind</i> give +a side view of the same on page 148, remarking that the profile, “like +Napoleon’s, is superbly European!” The nearness of its resemblance +to Mr. Douglass’ mother rests upon the evidence of his memory, and +judging from his almost marvelous feats of recollection of forms and outlines +recorded in this book, this testimony may be admitted. +</p> + +<p> +These facts show that for his energy, perseverance, eloquence, invective, +sagacity, and wide sympathy, he is indebted to his Negro blood. The very marvel +of his style would seem to be a development of that other marvel—how his +mother learned to read. The versatility of talent which he wields, in common +with Dumas, Ira Aldridge, and Miss Greenfield, would seem to be the result of +the grafting of the Anglo-Saxon on good, original, Negro stock. If the friends +of “Caucasus” choose to claim, for that region, what remains after +this analysis—to wit: combination—they are welcome to it. They will +forgive me for reminding them that the term “Caucasian” is dropped +by recent writers on Ethnology; for the people about Mount Caucasus, are, and +have ever been, Mongols. The great “white race” now seek paternity, +according to Dr. Pickering, in Arabia—“Arida Nutrix” of the +best breed of horses &c. Keep on, gentlemen; you will find yourselves in +Africa, by-and-by. The Egyptians, like the Americans, were a <i>mixed race</i>, +with some Negro blood circling around the throne, as well as in the mud hovels. +</p> + +<p> +This is the proper place to remark of our author, that the same strong +self-hood, which led him to measure strength with Mr. Covey, and to wrench +himself from the embrace of the Garrisonians, and which has borne him through +many resistances to the personal indignities offered him as a colored man, +sometimes becomes a hyper-sensitiveness to such assaults as men of his mark +will meet with, on paper. Keen and unscrupulous opponents have sought, and not +unsuccessfully, to pierce him in this direction; for well they know, that if +assailed, he will smite back. +</p> + +<p> +It is not without a feeling of pride, dear reader, that I present you with this +book. The son of a self-emancipated bond-woman, I feel joy in introducing to +you my brother, who has rent his own bonds, and who, in his every +relation—as a public man, as a husband and as a father—is such as +does honor to the land which gave him birth. I shall place this book in the +hands of the only child spared me, bidding him to strive and emulate its noble +example. You may do likewise. It is an American book, for Americans, in the +fullest sense of the idea. It shows that the worst of our institutions, in its +worst aspect, cannot keep down energy, truthfulness, and earnest struggle for +the right. It proves the justice and practicability of Immediate Emancipation. +It shows that any man in our land, “no matter in what battle his liberty +may have been cloven down, * * * * no matter what complexion an Indian or an +African sun may have burned upon him,” not only may “stand forth +redeemed and disenthralled,” but may also stand up a candidate for the +highest suffrage of a great people—the tribute of their honest, hearty +admiration. Reader, <i>Vale! New York</i> +</p> + +<p> +JAMES M’CUNE SMITH +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> +CHAPTER I. <i>Childhood</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +PLACE OF BIRTH—CHARACTER OF THE DISTRICT—TUCKAHOE—ORIGIN OF +THE NAME—CHOPTANK RIVER—TIME OF BIRTH—GENEALOGICAL +TREES—MODE OF COUNTING TIME—NAMES OF GRANDPARENTS—THEIR +POSITION—GRANDMOTHER ESPECIALLY ESTEEMED—“BORN TO GOOD +LUCK”—SWEET POTATOES—SUPERSTITION—THE LOG +CABIN—ITS CHARMS—SEPARATING CHILDREN—MY AUNTS—THEIR +NAMES—FIRST KNOWLEDGE OF BEING A SLAVE—OLD MASTER—GRIEFS AND +JOYS OF CHILDHOOD—COMPARATIVE HAPPINESS OF THE SLAVE-BOY AND THE SON OF A +SLAVEHOLDER. +</p> + +<p> +In Talbot county, Eastern Shore, Maryland, near Easton, the county town of that +county, there is a small district of country, thinly populated, and remarkable +for nothing that I know of more than for the worn-out, sandy, desert-like +appearance of its soil, the general dilapidation of its farms and fences, the +indigent and spiritless character of its inhabitants, and the prevalence of +ague and fever. +</p> + +<p> +The name of this singularly unpromising and truly famine stricken district is +Tuckahoe, a name well known to all Marylanders, black and white. It was given +to this section of country probably, at the first, merely in derision; or it +may possibly have been applied to it, as I have heard, because some one of its +earlier inhabitants had been guilty of the petty meanness of stealing a +hoe—or taking a hoe that did not belong to him. Eastern Shore men usually +pronounce the word <i>took</i>, as <i>tuck; Took-a-hoe</i>, therefore, is, in +Maryland parlance, <i>Tuckahoe</i>. But, whatever may have been its +origin—and about this I will not be positive—that name has stuck to +the district in question; and it is seldom mentioned but with contempt and +derision, on account of the barrenness of its soil, and the ignorance, +indolence, and poverty of its people. Decay and ruin are everywhere visible, +and the thin population of the place would have quitted it long ago, but for +the Choptank river, which runs through it, from which they take abundance of +shad and herring, and plenty of ague and fever. +</p> + +<p> +It was in this dull, flat, and unthrifty district, or neighborhood, surrounded +by a white population of the lowest order, indolent and drunken to a proverb, +and among slaves, who seemed to ask, <i>“Oh! what’s the +use?”</i> every time they lifted a hoe, that I—without any fault of +mine was born, and spent the first years of my childhood. +</p> + +<p> +The reader will pardon so much about the place of my birth, on the score that +it is always a fact of some importance to know where a man is born, if, indeed, +it be important to know anything about him. In regard to the <i>time</i> of my +birth, I cannot be as definite as I have been respecting the <i>place</i>. Nor, +indeed, can I impart much knowledge concerning my parents. Genealogical trees +do not flourish among slaves. A person of some consequence here in the north, +sometimes designated <i>father</i>, is literally abolished in slave law and +slave practice. It is only once in a while that an exception is found to this +statement. I never met with a slave who could tell me how old he was. Few +slave-mothers know anything of the months of the year, nor of the days of the +month. They keep no family records, with marriages, births, and deaths. They +measure the ages of their children by spring time, winter time, harvest time, +planting time, and the like; but these soon become undistinguishable and +forgotten. Like other slaves, I cannot tell how old I am. This destitution was +among my earliest troubles. I learned when I grew up, that my master—and +this is the case with masters generally—allowed no questions to be put to +him, by which a slave might learn his age. Such questions deemed evidence of +impatience, and even of impudent curiosity. From certain events, however, the +dates of which I have since learned, I suppose myself to have been born about +the year 1817. +</p> + +<p> +The first experience of life with me that I now remember—and I remember +it but hazily—began in the family of my grandmother and grandfather. +Betsey and Isaac Baily. They were quite advanced in life, and had long lived on +the spot where they then resided. They were considered old settlers in the +neighborhood, and, from certain circumstances, I infer that my grandmother, +especially, was held in high esteem, far higher than is the lot of most colored +persons in the slave states. She was a good nurse, and a capital hand at making +nets for catching shad and herring; and these nets were in great demand, not +only in Tuckahoe, but at Denton and Hillsboro, neighboring villages. She was +not only good at making the nets, but was also somewhat famous for her good +fortune in taking the fishes referred to. I have known her to be in the water +half the day. Grandmother was likewise more provident than most of her +neighbors in the preservation of seedling sweet potatoes, and it happened to +her—as it will happen to any careful and thrifty person residing in an +ignorant and improvident community—to enjoy the reputation of having been +born to “good luck.” Her “good luck” was owing to the +exceeding care which she took in preventing the succulent root from getting +bruised in the digging, and in placing it beyond the reach of frost, by +actually burying it under the hearth of her cabin during the winter months. In +the time of planting sweet potatoes, “Grandmother Betty,” as she +was familiarly called, was sent for in all directions, simply to place the +seedling potatoes in the hills; for superstition had it, that if +“Grandmamma Betty but touches them at planting, they will be sure to grow +and flourish.” This high reputation was full of advantage to her, and to +the children around her. Though Tuckahoe had but few of the good things of +life, yet of such as it did possess grandmother got a full share, in the way of +presents. If good potato crops came after her planting, she was not forgotten +by those for whom she planted; and as she was remembered by others, so she +remembered the hungry little ones around her. +</p> + +<p> +The dwelling of my grandmother and grandfather had few pretensions. It was a +log hut, or cabin, built of clay, wood, and straw. At a distance it +resembled—though it was smaller, less commodious and less +substantial—the cabins erected in the western states by the first +settlers. To my child’s eye, however, it was a noble structure, admirably +adapted to promote the comforts and conveniences of its inmates. A few rough, +Virginia fence-rails, flung loosely over the rafters above, answered the triple +purpose of floors, ceilings, and bedsteads. To be sure, this upper apartment +was reached only by a ladder—but what in the world for climbing could be +better than a ladder? To me, this ladder was really a high invention, and +possessed a sort of charm as I played with delight upon the rounds of it. In +this little hut there was a large family of children: I dare not say how many. +My grandmother—whether because too old for field service, or because she +had so faithfully discharged the duties of her station in early life, I know +not—enjoyed the high privilege of living in a cabin, separate from the +quarter, with no other burden than her own support, and the necessary care of +the little children, imposed. She evidently esteemed it a great fortune to live +so. The children were not her own, but her grandchildren—the children of +her daughters. She took delight in having them around her, and in attending to +their few wants. The practice of separating children from their mother, and +hiring the latter out at distances too great to admit of their meeting, except +at long intervals, is a marked feature of the cruelty and barbarity of the +slave system. But it is in harmony with the grand aim of slavery, which, always +and everywhere, is to reduce man to a level with the brute. It is a successful +method of obliterating from the mind and heart of the slave, all just ideas of +the sacredness of <i>the family</i>, as an institution. +</p> + +<p> +Most of the children, however, in this instance, being the children of my +grandmother’s daughters, the notions of family, and the reciprocal duties +and benefits of the relation, had a better chance of being understood than +where children are placed—as they often are in the hands of strangers, +who have no care for them, apart from the wishes of their masters. The +daughters of my grandmother were five in number. Their names were JENNY, +ESTHER, MILLY, PRISCILLA, and HARRIET. The daughter last named was my mother, +of whom the reader shall learn more by-and-by. +</p> + +<p> +Living here, with my dear old grandmother and grandfather, it was a long time +before I knew myself to be <i>a slave</i>. I knew many other things before I +knew that. Grandmother and grandfather were the greatest people in the world to +me; and being with them so snugly in their own little cabin—I supposed it +be their own—knowing no higher authority over me or the other children +than the authority of grandmamma, for a time there was nothing to disturb me; +but, as I grew larger and older, I learned by degrees the sad fact, that the +“little hut,” and the lot on which it stood, belonged not to my +dear old grandparents, but to some person who lived a great distance off, and +who was called, by grandmother, “OLD MASTER.” I further learned the +sadder fact, that not only the house and lot, but that grandmother herself, +(grandfather was free,) and all the little children around her, belonged to +this mysterious personage, called by grandmother, with every mark of reverence, +“Old Master.” Thus early did clouds and shadows begin to fall upon +my path. Once on the track—troubles never come singly—I was not +long in finding out another fact, still more grievous to my childish heart. I +was told that this “old master,” whose name seemed ever to be +mentioned with fear and shuddering, only allowed the children to live with +grandmother for a limited time, and that in fact as soon as they were big +enough, they were promptly taken away, to live with the said “old +master.” These were distressing revelations indeed; and though I was +quite too young to comprehend the full import of the intelligence, and mostly +spent my childhood days in gleesome sports with the other children, a shade of +disquiet rested upon me. +</p> + +<p> +The absolute power of this distant “old master” had touched my +young spirit with but the point of its cold, cruel iron, and left me something +to brood over after the play and in moments of repose. Grandmammy was, indeed, +at that time, all the world to me; and the thought of being separated from her, +in any considerable time, was more than an unwelcome intruder. It was +intolerable. +</p> + +<p> +Children have their sorrows as well as men and women; and it would be well to +remember this in our dealings with them. SLAVE-children <i>are</i> children, +and prove no exceptions to the general rule. The liability to be separated from +my grandmother, seldom or never to see her again, haunted me. I dreaded the +thought of going to live with that mysterious “old master,” whose +name I never heard mentioned with affection, but always with fear. I look back +to this as among the heaviest of my childhood’s sorrows. My grandmother! +my grandmother! and the little hut, and the joyous circle under her care, but +especially <i>she</i>, who made us sorry when she left us but for an hour, and +glad on her return,—how could I leave her and the good old home? +</p> + +<p> +But the sorrows of childhood, like the pleasures of after life, are transient. +It is not even within the power of slavery to write <i>indelible</i> sorrow, at +a single dash, over the heart of a child. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The tear down childhood’s cheek that flows,<br/> +Is like the dew-drop on the rose—<br/> +When next the summer breeze comes by,<br/> +And waves the bush—the flower is dry. +</p> + +<p> +There is, after all, but little difference in the measure of contentment felt +by the slave-child neglected and the slaveholder’s child cared for and +petted. The spirit of the All Just mercifully holds the balance for the young. +</p> + +<p> +The slaveholder, having nothing to fear from impotent childhood, easily affords +to refrain from cruel inflictions; and if cold and hunger do not pierce the +tender frame, the first seven or eight years of the slave-boy’s life are +about as full of sweet content as those of the most favored and petted +<i>white</i> children of the slaveholder. The slave-boy escapes many troubles +which befall and vex his white brother. He seldom has to listen to lectures on +propriety of behavior, or on anything else. He is never chided for handling his +little knife and fork improperly or awkwardly, for he uses none. He is never +reprimanded for soiling the table-cloth, for he takes his meals on the clay +floor. He never has the misfortune, in his games or sports, of soiling or +tearing his clothes, for he has almost none to soil or tear. He is never +expected to act like a nice little gentleman, for he is only a rude little +slave. Thus, freed from all restraint, the slave-boy can be, in his life and +conduct, a genuine boy, doing whatever his boyish nature suggests; enacting, by +turns, all the strange antics and freaks of horses, dogs, pigs, and barn-door +fowls, without in any manner compromising his dignity, or incurring reproach of +any sort. He literally runs wild; has no pretty little verses to learn in the +nursery; no nice little speeches to make for aunts, uncles, or cousins, to show +how smart he is; and, if he can only manage to keep out of the way of the heavy +feet and fists of the older slave boys, he may trot on, in his joyous and +roguish tricks, as happy as any little heathen under the palm trees of Africa. +To be sure, he is occasionally reminded, when he stumbles in the path of his +master—and this he early learns to avoid—that he is eating his +<i>“white bread,”</i> and that he will be made to <i>“see +sights”</i> by-and-by. The threat is soon forgotten; the shadow soon +passes, and our sable boy continues to roll in the dust, or play in the mud, as +bests suits him, and in the veriest freedom. If he feels uncomfortable, from +mud or from dust, the coast is clear; he can plunge into the river or the pond, +without the ceremony of undressing, or the fear of wetting his clothes; his +little tow-linen shirt—for that is all he has on—is easily dried; +and it needed ablution as much as did his skin. His food is of the coarsest +kind, consisting for the most part of cornmeal mush, which often finds it way +from the wooden tray to his mouth in an oyster shell. His days, when the +weather is warm, are spent in the pure, open air, and in the bright sunshine. +He always sleeps in airy apartments; he seldom has to take powders, or to be +paid to swallow pretty little sugar-coated pills, to cleanse his blood, or to +quicken his appetite. He eats no candies; gets no lumps of loaf sugar; always +relishes his food; cries but little, for nobody cares for his crying; learns to +esteem his bruises but slight, because others so esteem them. In a word, he is, +for the most part of the first eight years of his life, a spirited, joyous, +uproarious, and happy boy, upon whom troubles fall only like water on a +duck’s back. And such a boy, so far as I can now remember, was the boy +whose life in slavery I am now narrating. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> +CHAPTER II. <i>Removed from My First Home</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +THE NAME “OLD MASTER” A TERROR—COLONEL LLOYD’S +PLANTATION—WYE RIVER—WHENCE ITS NAME—POSITION OF THE +LLOYDS—HOME ATTRACTION—MEET OFFERING—JOURNEY FROM TUCKAHOE TO +WYE RIVER—SCENE ON REACHING OLD MASTER’S—DEPARTURE OF +GRANDMOTHER—STRANGE MEETING OF SISTERS AND BROTHERS—REFUSAL TO BE +COMFORTED—SWEET SLEEP. +</p> + +<p> +That mysterious individual referred to in the first chapter as an object of +terror among the inhabitants of our little cabin, under the ominous title of +“old master,” was really a man of some consequence. He owned +several farms in Tuckahoe; was the chief clerk and butler on the home +plantation of Col. Edward Lloyd; had overseers on his own farms; and gave +directions to overseers on the farms belonging to Col. Lloyd. This plantation +is situated on Wye river—the river receiving its name, doubtless, from +Wales, where the Lloyds originated. They (the Lloyds) are an old and honored +family in Maryland, exceedingly wealthy. The home plantation, where they have +resided, perhaps for a century or more, is one of the largest, most fertile, +and best appointed, in the state. +</p> + +<p> +About this plantation, and about that queer old master—who must be +something more than a man, and something worse than an angel—the reader +will easily imagine that I was not only curious, but eager, to know all that +could be known. Unhappily for me, however, all the information I could get +concerning him increased my great dread of being carried thither—of being +separated from and deprived of the protection of my grandmother and +grandfather. It was, evidently, a great thing to go to Col. Lloyd’s; and +I was not without a little curiosity to see the place; but no amount of coaxing +could induce in me the wish to remain there. The fact is, such was my dread of +leaving the little cabin, that I wished to remain little forever, for I knew +the taller I grew the shorter my stay. The old cabin, with its rail floor and +rail bedsteads upstairs, and its clay floor downstairs, and its dirt chimney, +and windowless sides, and that most curious piece of workmanship dug in front +of the fireplace, beneath which grandmammy placed the sweet potatoes to keep +them from the frost, was MY HOME—the only home I ever had; and I loved +it, and all connected with it. The old fences around it, and the stumps in the +edge of the woods near it, and the squirrels that ran, skipped, and played upon +them, were objects of interest and affection. There, too, right at the side of +the hut, stood the old well, with its stately and skyward-pointing beam, so +aptly placed between the limbs of what had once been a tree, and so nicely +balanced that I could move it up and down with only one hand, and could get a +drink myself without calling for help. Where else in the world could such a +well be found, and where could such another home be met with? Nor were these +all the attractions of the place. Down in a little valley, not far from +grandmammy’s cabin, stood Mr. Lee’s mill, where the people came +often in large numbers to get their corn ground. It was a watermill; and I +never shall be able to tell the many things thought and felt, while I sat on +the bank and watched that mill, and the turning of that ponderous wheel. The +mill-pond, too, had its charms; and with my pinhook, and thread line, I could +get <i>nibbles</i>, if I could catch no fish. But, in all my sports and plays, +and in spite of them, there would, occasionally, come the painful foreboding +that I was not long to remain there, and that I must soon be called away to the +home of old master. +</p> + +<p> +I was A SLAVE—born a slave and though the fact was incomprehensible to +me, it conveyed to my mind a sense of my entire dependence on the will of +<i>somebody</i> I had never seen; and, from some cause or other, I had been +made to fear this somebody above all else on earth. Born for another’s +benefit, as the <i>firstling</i> of the cabin flock I was soon to be selected +as a meet offering to the fearful and inexorable <i>demigod</i>, whose huge +image on so many occasions haunted my childhood’s imagination. When the +time of my departure was decided upon, my grandmother, knowing my fears, and in +pity for them, kindly kept me ignorant of the dreaded event about to transpire. +Up to the morning (a beautiful summer morning) when we were to start, and, +indeed, during the whole journey—a journey which, child as I was, I +remember as well as if it were yesterday—she kept the sad fact hidden +from me. This reserve was necessary; for, could I have known all, I should have +given grandmother some trouble in getting me started. As it was, I was +helpless, and she—dear woman!—led me along by the hand, resisting, +with the reserve and solemnity of a priestess, all my inquiring looks to the +last. +</p> + +<p> +The distance from Tuckahoe to Wye river—where my old master +lived—was full twelve miles, and the walk was quite a severe test of the +endurance of my young legs. The journey would have proved too severe for me, +but that my dear old grandmother—blessings on her memory!—afforded +occasional relief by “toting” me (as Marylanders have it) on her +shoulder. My grandmother, though advanced in years—as was evident from +more than one gray hair, which peeped from between the ample and graceful folds +of her newly-ironed bandana turban—was yet a woman of power and spirit. +She was marvelously straight in figure, elastic, and muscular. I seemed hardly +to be a burden to her. She would have “toted” me farther, but that +I felt myself too much of a man to allow it, and insisted on walking. Releasing +dear grandmamma from carrying me, did not make me altogether independent of +her, when we happened to pass through portions of the somber woods which lay +between Tuckahoe and Wye river. She often found me increasing the energy of my +grip, and holding her clothing, lest something should come out of the woods and +eat me up. Several old logs and stumps imposed upon me, and got themselves +taken for wild beasts. I could see their legs, eyes, and ears, or I could see +something like eyes, legs, and ears, till I got close enough to them to see +that the eyes were knots, washed white with rain, and the legs were broken +limbs, and the ears, only ears owing to the point from which they were seen. +Thus early I learned that the point from which a thing is viewed is of some +importance. +</p> + +<p> +As the day advanced the heat increased; and it was not until the afternoon that +we reached the much dreaded end of the journey. I found myself in the midst of +a group of children of many colors; black, brown, copper colored, and nearly +white. I had not seen so many children before. Great houses loomed up in +different directions, and a great many men and women were at work in the +fields. All this hurry, noise, and singing was very different from the +stillness of Tuckahoe. As a new comer, I was an object of special interest; +and, after laughing and yelling around me, and playing all sorts of wild +tricks, they (the children) asked me to go out and play with them. This I +refused to do, preferring to stay with grandmamma. I could not help feeling +that our being there boded no good to me. Grandmamma looked sad. She was soon +to lose another object of affection, as she had lost many before. I knew she +was unhappy, and the shadow fell from her brow on me, though I knew not the +cause. +</p> + +<p> +All suspense, however, must have an end; and the end of mine, in this instance, +was at hand. Affectionately patting me on the head, and exhorting me to be a +good boy, grandmamma told me to go and play with the little children. +“They are kin to you,” said she; “go and play with +them.” Among a number of cousins were Phil, Tom, Steve, and Jerry, Nance +and Betty. +</p> + +<p> +Grandmother pointed out my brother PERRY, my sister SARAH, and my sister ELIZA, +who stood in the group. I had never seen my brother nor my sisters before; and, +though I had sometimes heard of them, and felt a curious interest in them, I +really did not understand what they were to me, or I to them. We were brothers +and sisters, but what of that? Why should they be attached to me, or I to them? +Brothers and sisters we were by blood; but <i>slavery</i> had made us +strangers. I heard the words brother and sisters, and knew they must mean +something; but slavery had robbed these terms of their true meaning. The +experience through which I was passing, they had passed through before. They +had already been initiated into the mysteries of old master’s domicile, +and they seemed to look upon me with a certain degree of compassion; but my +heart clave to my grandmother. Think it not strange, dear reader, that so +little sympathy of feeling existed between us. The conditions of brotherly and +sisterly feeling were wanting—we had never nestled and played together. +My poor mother, like many other slave-women, had many <i>children</i>, but NO +FAMILY! The domestic hearth, with its holy lessons and precious endearments, is +abolished in the case of a slave-mother and her children. “Little +children, love one another,” are words seldom heard in a slave cabin. +</p> + +<p> +I really wanted to play with my brother and sisters, but they were strangers to +me, and I was full of fear that grandmother might leave without taking me with +her. Entreated to do so, however, and that, too, by my dear grandmother, I went +to the back part of the house, to play with them and the other children. +<i>Play</i>, however, I did not, but stood with my back against the wall, +witnessing the playing of the others. At last, while standing there, one of the +children, who had been in the kitchen, ran up to me, in a sort of roguish glee, +exclaiming, “Fed, Fed! grandmammy gone! grandmammy gone!” I could +not believe it; yet, fearing the worst, I ran into the kitchen, to see for +myself, and found it even so. Grandmammy had indeed gone, and was now far away, +“clean” out of sight. I need not tell all that happened now. Almost +heart-broken at the discovery, I fell upon the ground, and wept a boy’s +bitter tears, refusing to be comforted. My brother and sisters came around me, +and said, “Don’t cry,” and gave me peaches and pears, but I +flung them away, and refused all their kindly advances. I had never been +deceived before; and I felt not only grieved at parting—as I supposed +forever—with my grandmother, but indignant that a trick had been played +upon me in a matter so serious. +</p> + +<p> +It was now late in the afternoon. The day had been an exciting and wearisome +one, and I knew not how or where, but I suppose I sobbed myself to sleep. There +is a healing in the angel wing of sleep, even for the slave-boy; and its balm +was never more welcome to any wounded soul than it was to mine, the first night +I spent at the domicile of old master. The reader may be surprised that I +narrate so minutely an incident apparently so trivial, and which must have +occurred when I was not more than seven years old; but as I wish to give a +faithful history of my experience in slavery, I cannot withhold a circumstance +which, at the time, affected me so deeply. Besides, this was, in fact, my first +introduction to the realities of slavery. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> +CHAPTER III. <i>Parentage</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +MY FATHER SHROUDED IN MYSTERY—MY MOTHER—HER PERSONAL +APPEARANCE—INTERFERENCE OF SLAVERY WITH THE NATURAL AFFECTIONS OF MOTHER +AND CHILDREN—SITUATION OF MY MOTHER—HER NIGHTLY VISITS TO HER +BOY—STRIKING INCIDENT—HER DEATH—HER PLACE OF BURIAL. +</p> + +<p> +If the reader will now be kind enough to allow me time to grow bigger, and +afford me an opportunity for my experience to become greater, I will tell him +something, by-and-by, of slave life, as I saw, felt, and heard it, on Col. +Edward Lloyd’s plantation, and at the house of old master, where I had +now, despite of myself, most suddenly, but not unexpectedly, been dropped. +Meanwhile, I will redeem my promise to say something more of my dear mother. +</p> + +<p> +I say nothing of <i>father</i>, for he is shrouded in a mystery I have never +been able to penetrate. Slavery does away with fathers, as it does away with +families. Slavery has no use for either fathers or families, and its laws do +not recognize their existence in the social arrangements of the plantation. +When they <i>do</i> exist, they are not the outgrowths of slavery, but are +antagonistic to that system. The order of civilization is reversed here. The +name of the child is not expected to be that of its father, and his condition +does not necessarily affect that of the child. He may be the slave of Mr. +Tilgman; and his child, when born, may be the slave of Mr. Gross. He may be a +<i>freeman;</i> and yet his child may be a <i>chattel</i>. He may be white, +glorying in the purity of his Anglo-Saxon blood; and his child may be ranked +with the blackest slaves. Indeed, he <i>may</i> be, and often <i>is</i>, master +and father to the same child. He can be father without being a husband, and may +sell his child without incurring reproach, if the child be by a woman in whose +veins courses one thirty-second part of African blood. My father was a white +man, or nearly white. It was sometimes whispered that my master was my father. +</p> + +<p> +But to return, or rather, to begin. My knowledge of my mother is very scanty, +but very distinct. Her personal appearance and bearing are ineffaceably stamped +upon my memory. She was tall, and finely proportioned; of deep black, glossy +complexion; had regular features, and, among the other slaves, was remarkably +sedate in her manners. There is in <i>Prichard’s Natural History of +Man</i>, the head of a figure—on page 157—the features of which so +resemble those of my mother, that I often recur to it with something of the +feeling which I suppose others experience when looking upon the pictures of +dear departed ones. +</p> + +<p> +Yet I cannot say that I was very deeply attached to my mother; certainly not so +deeply as I should have been had our relations in childhood been different. We +were separated, according to the common custom, when I was but an infant, and, +of course, before I knew my mother from any one else. +</p> + +<p> +The germs of affection with which the Almighty, in his wisdom and mercy, arms +the hopeless infant against the ills and vicissitudes of his lot, had been +directed in their growth toward that loving old grandmother, whose gentle hand +and kind deportment it was in the first effort of my infantile understanding to +comprehend and appreciate. Accordingly, the tenderest affection which a +beneficent Father allows, as a partial compensation to the mother for the pains +and lacerations of her heart, incident to the maternal relation, was, in my +case, diverted from its true and natural object, by the envious, greedy, and +treacherous hand of slavery. The slave-mother can be spared long enough from +the field to endure all the bitterness of a mother’s anguish, when it +adds another name to a master’s ledger, but <i>not</i> long enough to +receive the joyous reward afforded by the intelligent smiles of her child. I +never think of this terrible interference of slavery with my infantile +affections, and its diverting them from their natural course, without feelings +to which I can give no adequate expression. +</p> + +<p> +I do not remember to have seen my mother at my grandmother’s at any time. +I remember her only in her visits to me at Col. Lloyd’s plantation, and +in the kitchen of my old master. Her visits to me there were few in number, +brief in duration, and mostly made in the night. The pains she took, and the +toil she endured, to see me, tells me that a true mother’s heart was +hers, and that slavery had difficulty in paralyzing it with unmotherly +indifference. +</p> + +<p> +My mother was hired out to a Mr. Stewart, who lived about twelve miles from old +master’s, and, being a field hand, she seldom had leisure, by day, for +the performance of the journey. The nights and the distance were both obstacles +to her visits. She was obliged to walk, unless chance flung into her way an +opportunity to ride; and the latter was sometimes her good luck. But she always +had to walk one way or the other. It was a greater luxury than slavery could +afford, to allow a black slave-mother a horse or a mule, upon which to travel +twenty-four miles, when she could walk the distance. Besides, it is deemed a +foolish whim for a slave-mother to manifest concern to see her children, and, +in one point of view, the case is made out—she can do nothing for them. +She has no control over them; the master is even more than the mother, in all +matters touching the fate of her child. Why, then, should she give herself any +concern? She has no responsibility. Such is the reasoning, and such the +practice. The iron rule of the plantation, always passionately and violently +enforced in that neighborhood, makes flogging the penalty of failing to be in +the field before sunrise in the morning, unless special permission be given to +the absenting slave. “I went to see my child,” is no excuse to the +ear or heart of the overseer. +</p> + +<p> +One of the visits of my mother to me, while at Col. Lloyd’s, I remember +very vividly, as affording a bright gleam of a mother’s love, and the +earnestness of a mother’s care. +</p> + +<p> +“I had on that day offended “Aunt Katy,” (called +“Aunt” by way of respect,) the cook of old master’s +establishment. I do not now remember the nature of my offense in this instance, +for my offenses were numerous in that quarter, greatly depending, however, upon +the mood of Aunt Katy, as to their heinousness; but she had adopted, that day, +her favorite mode of punishing me, namely, making me go without food all +day—that is, from after breakfast. The first hour or two after dinner, I +succeeded pretty well in keeping up my spirits; but though I made an excellent +stand against the foe, and fought bravely during the afternoon, I knew I must +be conquered at last, unless I got the accustomed reenforcement of a slice of +corn bread, at sundown. Sundown came, but <i>no bread</i>, and, in its stead, +their came the threat, with a scowl well suited to its terrible import, that +she “meant to <i>starve the life out of me!”</i> Brandishing her +knife, she chopped off the heavy slices for the other children, and put the +loaf away, muttering, all the while, her savage designs upon myself. Against +this disappointment, for I was expecting that her heart would relent at last, I +made an extra effort to maintain my dignity; but when I saw all the other +children around me with merry and satisfied faces, I could stand it no longer. +I went out behind the house, and cried like a fine fellow! When tired of this, +I returned to the kitchen, sat by the fire, and brooded over my hard lot. I was +too hungry to sleep. While I sat in the corner, I caught sight of an ear of +Indian corn on an upper shelf of the kitchen. I watched my chance, and got it, +and, shelling off a few grains, I put it back again. The grains in my hand, I +quickly put in some ashes, and covered them with embers, to roast them. All +this I did at the risk of getting a brutual thumping, for Aunt Katy could beat, +as well as starve me. My corn was not long in roasting, and, with my keen +appetite, it did not matter even if the grains were not exactly done. I eagerly +pulled them out, and placed them on my stool, in a clever little pile. Just as +I began to help myself to my very dry meal, in came my dear mother. And now, +dear reader, a scene occurred which was altogether worth beholding, and to me +it was instructive as well as interesting. The friendless and hungry boy, in +his extremest need—and when he did not dare to look for +succor—found himself in the strong, protecting arms of a mother; a mother +who was, at the moment (being endowed with high powers of manner as well as +matter) more than a match for all his enemies. I shall never forget the +indescribable expression of her countenance, when I told her that I had had no +food since morning; and that Aunt Katy said she “meant to starve the life +out of me.” There was pity in her glance at me, and a fiery indignation +at Aunt Katy at the same time; and, while she took the corn from me, and gave +me a large ginger cake, in its stead, she read Aunt Katy a lecture which she +never forgot. My mother threatened her with complaining to old master in my +behalf; for the latter, though harsh and cruel himself, at times, did not +sanction the meanness, injustice, partiality and oppressions enacted by Aunt +Katy in the kitchen. That night I learned the fact, that I was, not only a +child, but <i>somebody’s</i> child. The “sweet cake” my +mother gave me was in the shape of a heart, with a rich, dark ring glazed upon +the edge of it. I was victorious, and well off for the moment; prouder, on my +mother’s knee, than a king upon his throne. But my triumph was short. I +dropped off to sleep, and waked in the morning only to find my mother gone, and +myself left at the mercy of the sable virago, dominant in my old master’s +kitchen, whose fiery wrath was my constant dread. +</p> + +<p> +I do not remember to have seen my mother after this occurrence. Death soon +ended the little communication that had existed between us; and with it, I +believe, a life judging from her weary, sad, down-cast countenance and mute +demeanor—full of heartfelt sorrow. I was not allowed to visit her during +any part of her long illness; nor did I see her for a long time before she was +taken ill and died. The heartless and ghastly form of <i>slavery</i> rises +between mother and child, even at the bed of death. The mother, at the verge of +the grave, may not gather her children, to impart to them her holy admonitions, +and invoke for them her dying benediction. The bond-woman lives as a slave, and +is left to die as a beast; often with fewer attentions than are paid to a +favorite horse. Scenes of sacred tenderness, around the death-bed, never +forgotten, and which often arrest the vicious and confirm the virtuous during +life, must be looked for among the free, though they sometimes occur among the +slaves. It has been a life-long, standing grief to me, that I knew so little of +my mother; and that I was so early separated from her. The counsels of her love +must have been beneficial to me. The side view of her face is imaged on my +memory, and I take few steps in life, without feeling her presence; but the +image is mute, and I have no striking words of her’s treasured up. +</p> + +<p> +I learned, after my mother’s death, that she could read, and that she was +the <i>only</i> one of all the slaves and colored people in Tuckahoe who +enjoyed that advantage. How she acquired this knowledge, I know not, for +Tuckahoe is the last place in the world where she would be apt to find +facilities for learning. I can, therefore, fondly and proudly ascribe to her an +earnest love of knowledge. That a “field hand” should learn to +read, in any slave state, is remarkable; but the achievement of my mother, +considering the place, was very extraordinary; and, in view of that fact, I am +quite willing, and even happy, to attribute any love of letters I possess, and +for which I have got—despite of prejudices only too much credit, +<i>not</i> to my admitted Anglo-Saxon paternity, but to the native genius of my +sable, unprotected, and uncultivated <i>mother</i>—a woman, who belonged +to a race whose mental endowments it is, at present, fashionable to hold in +disparagement and contempt. +</p> + +<p> +Summoned away to her account, with the impassable gulf of slavery between us +during her entire illness, my mother died without leaving me a single +intimation of <i>who</i> my father was. There was a whisper, that my master was +my father; yet it was only a whisper, and I cannot say that I ever gave it +credence. Indeed, I now have reason to think he was not; nevertheless, the fact +remains, in all its glaring odiousness, that, by the laws of slavery, children, +in all cases, are reduced to the condition of their mothers. This arrangement +admits of the greatest license to brutal slaveholders, and their profligate +sons, brothers, relations and friends, and gives to the pleasure of sin, the +additional attraction of profit. A whole volume might be written on this single +feature of slavery, as I have observed it. +</p> + +<p> +One might imagine, that the children of such connections, would fare better, in +the hands of their masters, than other slaves. The rule is quite the other way; +and a very little reflection will satisfy the reader that such is the case. A +man who will enslave his own blood, may not be safely relied on for +magnanimity. Men do not love those who remind them of their sins unless they +have a mind to repent—and the mulatto child’s face is a standing +accusation against him who is master and father to the child. What is still +worse, perhaps, such a child is a constant offense to the wife. She hates its +very presence, and when a slaveholding woman hates, she wants not means to give +that hate telling effect. Women—white women, I mean—are IDOLS at +the south, not WIVES, for the slave women are preferred in many instances; and +if these <i>idols</i> but nod, or lift a finger, woe to the poor victim: kicks, +cuffs and stripes are sure to follow. Masters are frequently compelled to sell +this class of their slaves, out of deference to the feelings of their white +wives; and shocking and scandalous as it may seem for a man to sell his own +blood to the traffickers in human flesh, it is often an act of humanity toward +the slave-child to be thus removed from his merciless tormentors. +</p> + +<p> +It is not within the scope of the design of my simple story, to comment upon +every phase of slavery not within my experience as a slave. +</p> + +<p> +But, I may remark, that, if the lineal descendants of Ham are only to be +enslaved, according to the scriptures, slavery in this country will soon become +an unscriptural institution; for thousands are ushered into the world, +annually, who—like myself—owe their existence to white fathers, +and, most frequently, to their masters, and master’s sons. The +slave-woman is at the mercy of the fathers, sons or brothers of her master. The +thoughtful know the rest. +</p> + +<p> +After what I have now said of the circumstances of my mother, and my relations +to her, the reader will not be surprised, nor be disposed to censure me, when I +tell but the simple truth, viz: that I received the tidings of her death with +no strong emotions of sorrow for her, and with very little regret for myself on +account of her loss. I had to learn the value of my mother long after her +death, and by witnessing the devotion of other mothers to their children. +</p> + +<p> +There is not, beneath the sky, an enemy to filial affection so destructive as +slavery. It had made my brothers and sisters strangers to me; it converted the +mother that bore me, into a myth; it shrouded my father in mystery, and left me +without an intelligible beginning in the world. +</p> + +<p> +My mother died when I could not have been more than eight or nine years old, on +one of old master’s farms in Tuckahoe, in the neighborhood of +Hillsborough. Her grave is, as the grave of the dead at sea, unmarked, and +without stone or stake. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> +CHAPTER IV. <i>A General Survey of the Slave Plantation</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +ISOLATION OF LLOYD S PLANTATION—PUBLIC OPINION THERE NO PROTECTION TO THE +SLAVE—ABSOLUTE POWER OF THE OVERSEER—NATURAL AND ARTIFICIAL CHARMS +OF THE PLACE—ITS BUSINESS-LIKE APPEARANCE—SUPERSTITION ABOUT THE +BURIAL GROUND—GREAT IDEAS OF COL. LLOYD—ETIQUETTE AMONG +SLAVES—THE COMIC SLAVE DOCTOR—PRAYING AND FLOGGING—OLD MASTER +LOSING ITS TERRORS—HIS BUSINESS—CHARACTER OF AUNT +KATY—SUFFERINGS FROM HUNGER—OLD MASTER’S HOME—JARGON OF +THE PLANTATION—GUINEA SLAVES—MASTER DANIEL—FAMILY OF COL. +LLOYD—FAMILY OF CAPT. ANTHONY—HIS SOCIAL POSITION—NOTIONS OF +RANK AND STATION. +</p> + +<p> +It is generally supposed that slavery, in the state of Maryland, exists in its +mildest form, and that it is totally divested of those harsh and terrible +peculiarities, which mark and characterize the slave system, in the southern +and south-western states of the American union. The argument in favor of this +opinion, is the contiguity of the free states, and the exposed condition of +slavery in Maryland to the moral, religious and humane sentiment of the free +states. +</p> + +<p> +I am not about to refute this argument, so far as it relates to slavery in that +state, generally; on the contrary, I am willing to admit that, to this general +point, the arguments is well grounded. Public opinion is, indeed, an unfailing +restraint upon the cruelty and barbarity of masters, overseers, and +slave-drivers, whenever and wherever it can reach them; but there are certain +secluded and out-of-the-way places, even in the state of Maryland, seldom +visited by a single ray of healthy public sentiment—where slavery, wrapt +in its own congenial, midnight darkness, <i>can</i>, and <i>does</i>, develop +all its malign and shocking characteristics; where it can be indecent without +shame, cruel without shuddering, and murderous without apprehension or fear of +exposure. +</p> + +<p> +Just such a secluded, dark, and out-of-the-way place, is the “home +plantation” of Col. Edward Lloyd, on the Eastern Shore, Maryland. It is +far away from all the great thoroughfares, and is proximate to no town or +village. There is neither school-house, nor town-house in its neighborhood. The +school-house is unnecessary, for there are no children to go to school. The +children and grand-children of Col. Lloyd were taught in the house, by a +private tutor—a Mr. Page a tall, gaunt sapling of a man, who did not +speak a dozen words to a slave in a whole year. The overseers’ children +go off somewhere to school; and they, therefore, bring no foreign or dangerous +influence from abroad, to embarrass the natural operation of the slave system +of the place. Not even the mechanics—through whom there is an occasional +out-burst of honest and telling indignation, at cruelty and wrong on other +plantations—are white men, on this plantation. Its whole public is made +up of, and divided into, three classes—SLAVEHOLDERS, SLAVES and +OVERSEERS. Its blacksmiths, wheelwrights, shoemakers, weavers, and coopers, are +slaves. Not even commerce, selfish and iron-hearted at it is, and ready, as it +ever is, to side with the strong against the weak—the rich against the +poor—is trusted or permitted within its secluded precincts. Whether with +a view of guarding against the escape of its secrets, I know not, but it is a +fact, the every leaf and grain of the produce of this plantation, and those of +the neighboring farms belonging to Col. Lloyd, are transported to Baltimore in +Col. Lloyd’s own vessels; every man and boy on board of +which—except the captain—are owned by him. In return, everything +brought to the plantation, comes through the same channel. Thus, even the +glimmering and unsteady light of trade, which sometimes exerts a civilizing +influence, is excluded from this “tabooed” spot. +</p> + +<p> +Nearly all the plantations or farms in the vicinity of the “home +plantation” of Col. Lloyd, belong to him; and those which do not, are +owned by personal friends of his, as deeply interested in maintaining the slave +system, in all its rigor, as Col. Lloyd himself. Some of his neighbors are said +to be even more stringent than he. The Skinners, the Peakers, the Tilgmans, the +Lockermans, and the Gipsons, are in the same boat; being slaveholding +neighbors, they may have strengthened each other in their iron rule. They are +on intimate terms, and their interests and tastes are identical. +</p> + +<p> +Public opinion in such a quarter, the reader will see, is not likely to very +efficient in protecting the slave from cruelty. On the contrary, it must +increase and intensify his wrongs. Public opinion seldom differs very widely +from public practice. To be a restraint upon cruelty and vice, public opinion +must emanate from a humane and virtuous community. To no such humane and +virtuous community, is Col. Lloyd’s plantation exposed. That plantation +is a little nation of its own, having its own language, its own rules, +regulations and customs. The laws and institutions of the state, apparently +touch it nowhere. The troubles arising here, are not settled by the civil power +of the state. The overseer is generally accuser, judge, jury, advocate and +executioner. The criminal is always dumb. The overseer attends to all sides of +a case. +</p> + +<p> +There are no conflicting rights of property, for all the people are owned by +one man; and they can themselves own no property. Religion and politics are +alike excluded. One class of the population is too high to be reached by the +preacher; and the other class is too low to be cared for by the preacher. The +poor have the gospel preached to them, in this neighborhood, only when they are +able to pay for it. The slaves, having no money, get no gospel. The politician +keeps away, because the people have no votes, and the preacher keeps away, +because the people have no money. The rich planter can afford to learn politics +in the parlor, and to dispense with religion altogether. +</p> + +<p> +In its isolation, seclusion, and self-reliant independence, Col. Lloyd’s +plantation resembles what the baronial domains were during the middle ages in +Europe. Grim, cold, and unapproachable by all genial influences from +communities without, <i>there it stands;</i> full three hundred years behind +the age, in all that relates to humanity and morals. +</p> + +<p> +This, however, is not the only view that the place presents. Civilization is +shut out, but nature cannot be. Though separated from the rest of the world; +though public opinion, as I have said, seldom gets a chance to penetrate its +dark domain; though the whole place is stamped with its own peculiar, ironlike +individuality; and though crimes, high-handed and atrocious, may there be +committed, with almost as much impunity as upon the deck of a pirate +ship—it is, nevertheless, altogether, to outward seeming, a most +strikingly interesting place, full of life, activity, and spirit; and presents +a very favorable contrast to the indolent monotony and languor of Tuckahoe. +Keen as was my regret and great as was my sorrow at leaving the latter, I was +not long in adapting myself to this, my new home. A man’s troubles are +always half disposed of, when he finds endurance his only remedy. I found +myself here; there was no getting away; and what remained for me, but to make +the best of it? Here were plenty of children to play with, and plenty of places +of pleasant resort for boys of my age, and boys older. The little tendrils of +affection, so rudely and treacherously broken from around the darling objects +of my grandmother’s hut, gradually began to extend, and to entwine about +the new objects by which I now found myself surrounded. +</p> + +<p> +There was a windmill (always a commanding object to a child’s eye) on +Long Point—a tract of land dividing Miles river from the Wye a mile or +more from my old master’s house. There was a creek to swim in, at the +bottom of an open flat space, of twenty acres or more, called “the Long +Green”—a very beautiful play-ground for the children. +</p> + +<p> +In the river, a short distance from the shore, lying quietly at anchor, with +her small boat dancing at her stern, was a large sloop—the Sally Lloyd; +called by that name in honor of a favorite daughter of the colonel. The sloop +and the mill were wondrous things, full of thoughts and ideas. A child cannot +well look at such objects without <i>thinking</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Then here were a great many houses; human habitations, full of the mysteries of +life at every stage of it. There was the little red house, up the road, +occupied by Mr. Sevier, the overseer. A little nearer to my old master’s, +stood a very long, rough, low building, literally alive with slaves, of all +ages, conditions and sizes. This was called “the Longe Quarter.” +Perched upon a hill, across the Long Green, was a very tall, dilapidated, old +brick building—the architectural dimensions of which proclaimed its +erection for a different purpose—now occupied by slaves, in a similar +manner to the Long Quarter. Besides these, there were numerous other slave +houses and huts, scattered around in the neighborhood, every nook and corner of +which was completely occupied. Old master’s house, a long, brick +building, plain, but substantial, stood in the center of the plantation life, +and constituted one independent establishment on the premises of Col. Lloyd. +</p> + +<p> +Besides these dwellings, there were barns, stables, store-houses, and +tobacco-houses; blacksmiths’ shops, wheelwrights’ shops, +coopers’ shops—all objects of interest; but, above all, there stood +the grandest building my eyes had then ever beheld, called, by every one on the +plantation, the “Great House.” This was occupied by Col. Lloyd and +his family. They occupied it; <i>I</i> enjoyed it. The great house was +surrounded by numerous and variously shaped out-buildings. There were kitchens, +wash-houses, dairies, summer-house, green-houses, hen-houses, turkey-houses, +pigeon-houses, and arbors, of many sizes and devices, all neatly painted, and +altogether interspersed with grand old trees, ornamental and primitive, which +afforded delightful shade in summer, and imparted to the scene a high degree of +stately beauty. The great house itself was a large, white, wooden building, +with wings on three sides of it. In front, a large portico, extending the +entire length of the building, and supported by a long range of columns, gave +to the whole establishment an air of solemn grandeur. It was a treat to my +young and gradually opening mind, to behold this elaborate exhibition of +wealth, power, and vanity. The carriage entrance to the house was a large gate, +more than a quarter of a mile distant from it; the intermediate space was a +beautiful lawn, very neatly trimmed, and watched with the greatest care. It was +dotted thickly over with delightful trees, shrubbery, and flowers. The road, or +lane, from the gate to the great house, was richly paved with white pebbles +from the beach, and, in its course, formed a complete circle around the +beautiful lawn. Carriages going in and retiring from the great house, made the +circuit of the lawn, and their passengers were permitted to behold a scene of +almost Eden-like beauty. Outside this select inclosure, were parks, where as +about the residences of the English nobility—rabbits, deer, and other +wild game, might be seen, peering and playing about, with none to molest them +or make them afraid. The tops of the stately poplars were often covered with +the red-winged black-birds, making all nature vocal with the joyous life and +beauty of their wild, warbling notes. These all belonged to me, as well as to +Col. Edward Lloyd, and for a time I greatly enjoyed them. +</p> + +<p> +A short distance from the great house, were the stately mansions of the dead, a +place of somber aspect. Vast tombs, embowered beneath the weeping willow and +the fir tree, told of the antiquities of the Lloyd family, as well as of their +wealth. Superstition was rife among the slaves about this family burying +ground. Strange sights had been seen there by some of the older slaves. +Shrouded ghosts, riding on great black horses, had been seen to enter; balls of +fire had been seen to fly there at midnight, and horrid sounds had been +repeatedly heard. Slaves know enough of the rudiments of theology to believe +that those go to hell who die slaveholders; and they often fancy such persons +wishing themselves back again, to wield the lash. Tales of sights and sounds, +strange and terrible, connected with the huge black tombs, were a very great +security to the grounds about them, for few of the slaves felt like approaching +them even in the day time. It was a dark, gloomy and forbidding place, and it +was difficult to feel that the spirits of the sleeping dust there deposited, +reigned with the blest in the realms of eternal peace. +</p> + +<p> +The business of twenty or thirty farms was transacted at this, called, by way +of eminence, “great house farm.” These farms all belonged to Col. +Lloyd, as did, also, the slaves upon them. Each farm was under the management +of an overseer. As I have said of the overseer of the home plantation, so I may +say of the overseers on the smaller ones; they stand between the slave and all +civil constitutions—their word is law, and is implicitly obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +The colonel, at this time, was reputed to be, and he apparently was, very rich. +His slaves, alone, were an immense fortune. These, small and great, could not +have been fewer than one thousand in number, and though scarcely a month passed +without the sale of one or more lots to the Georgia traders, there was no +apparent diminution in the number of his human stock: the home plantation +merely groaned at a removal of the young increase, or human crop, then +proceeded as lively as ever. Horse-shoeing, cart-mending, plow-repairing, +coopering, grinding, and weaving, for all the neighboring farms, were performed +here, and slaves were employed in all these branches. “Uncle Tony” +was the blacksmith; “Uncle Harry” was the cartwright; “Uncle +Abel” was the shoemaker; and all these had hands to assist them in their +several departments. +</p> + +<p> +These mechanics were called “uncles” by all the younger slaves, not +because they really sustained that relationship to any, but according to +plantation <i>etiquette</i>, as a mark of respect, due from the younger to the +older slaves. Strange, and even ridiculous as it may seem, among a people so +uncultivated, and with so many stern trials to look in the face, there is not +to be found, among any people, a more rigid enforcement of the law of respect +to elders, than they maintain. I set this down as partly constitutional with my +race, and partly conventional. There is no better material in the world for +making a gentleman, than is furnished in the African. He shows to others, and +exacts for himself, all the tokens of respect which he is compelled to manifest +toward his master. A young slave must approach the company of the older with +hat in hand, and woe betide him, if he fails to acknowledge a favor, of any +sort, with the accustomed <i>“tank’ee,”</i> &c. So +uniformly are good manners enforced among slaves, I can easily detect a +“bogus” fugitive by his manners. +</p> + +<p> +Among other slave notabilities of the plantation, was one called by everybody +Uncle Isaac Copper. It is seldom that a slave gets a surname from anybody in +Maryland; and so completely has the south shaped the manners of the north, in +this respect, that even abolitionists make very little of the surname of a +Negro. The only improvement on the “Bills,” “Jacks,” +“Jims,” and “Neds” of the south, observable here is, +that “William,” “John,” “James,” +“Edward,” are substituted. It goes against the grain to treat and +address a Negro precisely as they would treat and address a white man. But, +once in a while, in slavery as in the free states, by some extraordinary +circumstance, the Negro has a surname fastened to him, and holds it against all +conventionalities. This was the case with Uncle Isaac Copper. When the +“uncle” was dropped, he generally had the prefix +“doctor,” in its stead. He was our doctor of medicine, and doctor +of divinity as well. Where he took his degree I am unable to say, for he was +not very communicative to inferiors, and I was emphatically such, being but a +boy seven or eight years old. He was too well established in his profession to +permit questions as to his native skill, or his attainments. One qualification +he undoubtedly had—he was a confirmed <i>cripple;</i> and he could +neither work, nor would he bring anything if offered for sale in the market. +The old man, though lame, was no sluggard. He was a man that made his crutches +do him good service. He was always on the alert, looking up the sick, and all +such as were supposed to need his counsel. His remedial prescriptions embraced +four articles. For diseases of the body, <i>Epsom salts and castor oil;</i> for +those of the soul, <i>the Lord’s Prayer</i>, and <i>hickory switches</i>! +</p> + +<p> +I was not long at Col. Lloyd’s before I was placed under the care of +Doctor Issac Copper. I was sent to him with twenty or thirty other children, to +learn the “Lord’s Prayer.” I found the old gentleman seated +on a huge three-legged oaken stool, armed with several large hickory switches; +and, from his position, he could reach—lame as he was—any boy in +the room. After standing awhile to learn what was expected of us, the old +gentleman, in any other than a devotional tone, commanded us to kneel down. +This done, he commenced telling us to say everything he said. “Our +Father”—this was repeated after him with promptness and uniformity; +“Who art in heaven”—was less promptly and uniformly repeated; +and the old gentleman paused in the prayer, to give us a short lecture upon the +consequences of inattention, both immediate and future, and especially those +more immediate. About these he was absolutely certain, for he held in his right +hand the means of bringing all his predictions and warnings to pass. On he +proceeded with the prayer; and we with our thick tongues and unskilled ears, +followed him to the best of our ability. This, however, was not sufficient to +please the old gentleman. Everybody, in the south, wants the privilege of +whipping somebody else. Uncle Isaac shared the common passion of his country, +and, therefore, seldom found any means of keeping his disciples in order short +of flogging. “Say everything I say;” and bang would come the switch +on some poor boy’s undevotional head. <i>“What you looking at +there”—“Stop that pushing”</i>—and down again +would come the lash. +</p> + +<p> +The whip is all in all. It is supposed to secure obedience to the slaveholder, +and is held as a sovereign remedy among the slaves themselves, for every form +of disobedience, temporal or spiritual. Slaves, as well as slaveholders, use it +with an unsparing hand. Our devotions at Uncle Isaac’s combined too much +of the tragic and comic, to make them very salutary in a spiritual point of +view; and it is due to truth to say, I was often a truant when the time for +attending the praying and flogging of Doctor Isaac Copper came on. +</p> + +<p> +The windmill under the care of Mr. Kinney, a kind hearted old Englishman, was +to me a source of infinite interest and pleasure. The old man always seemed +pleased when he saw a troop of darkey little urchins, with their tow-linen +shirts fluttering in the breeze, approaching to view and admire the whirling +wings of his wondrous machine. From the mill we could see other objects of deep +interest. These were, the vessels from St. Michael’s, on their way to +Baltimore. It was a source of much amusement to view the flowing sails and +complicated rigging, as the little crafts dashed by, and to speculate upon +Baltimore, as to the kind and quality of the place. With so many sources of +interest around me, the reader may be prepared to learn that I began to think +very highly of Col. L.‘s plantation. It was just a place to my boyish +taste. There were fish to be caught in the creek, if one only had a hook and +line; and crabs, clams and oysters were to be caught by wading, digging and +raking for them. Here was a field for industry and enterprise, strongly +inviting; and the reader may be assured that I entered upon it with spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Even the much dreaded old master, whose merciless fiat had brought me from +Tuckahoe, gradually, to my mind, parted with his terrors. Strange enough, his +reverence seemed to take no particular notice of me, nor of my coming. Instead +of leaping out and devouring me, he scarcely seemed conscious of my presence. +The fact is, he was occupied with matters more weighty and important than +either looking after or vexing me. He probably thought as little of my advent, +as he would have thought of the addition of a single pig to his stock! +</p> + +<p> +As the chief butler on Col. Lloyd’s plantation, his duties were numerous +and perplexing. In almost all important matters he answered in Col. +Lloyd’s stead. The overseers of all the farms were in some sort under +him, and received the law from his mouth. The colonel himself seldom addressed +an overseer, or allowed an overseer to address him. Old master carried the keys +of all store houses; measured out the allowance for each slave at the end of +every month; superintended the storing of all goods brought to the plantation; +dealt out the raw material to all the handicraftsmen; shipped the grain, +tobacco, and all saleable produce of the plantation to market, and had the +general oversight of the coopers’ shop, wheelwrights’ shop, +blacksmiths’ shop, and shoemakers’ shop. Besides the care of these, +he often had business for the plantation which required him to be absent two +and three days. +</p> + +<p> +Thus largely employed, he had little time, and perhaps as little disposition, +to interfere with the children individually. What he was to Col. Lloyd, he made +Aunt Katy to him. When he had anything to say or do about us, it was said or +done in a wholesale manner; disposing of us in classes or sizes, leaving all +minor details to Aunt Katy, a person of whom the reader has already received no +very favorable impression. Aunt Katy was a woman who never allowed herself to +act greatly within the margin of power granted to her, no matter how broad that +authority might be. Ambitious, ill-tempered and cruel, she found in her present +position an ample field for the exercise of her ill-omened qualities. She had a +strong hold on old master she was considered a first rate cook, and she really +was very industrious. She was, therefore, greatly favored by old master, and as +one mark of his favor, she was the only mother who was permitted to retain her +children around her. Even to these children she was often fiendish in her +brutality. She pursued her son Phil, one day, in my presence, with a huge +butcher knife, and dealt a blow with its edge which left a shocking gash on his +arm, near the wrist. For this, old master did sharply rebuke her, and +threatened that if she ever should do the like again, he would take the skin +off her back. Cruel, however, as Aunt Katy was to her own children, at times +she was not destitute of maternal feeling, as I often had occasion to know, in +the bitter pinches of hunger I had to endure. Differing from the practice of +Col. Lloyd, old master, instead of allowing so much for each slave, committed +the allowance for all to the care of Aunt Katy, to be divided after cooking it, +amongst us. The allowance, consisting of coarse corn-meal, was not very +abundant—indeed, it was very slender; and in passing through Aunt +Katy’s hands, it was made more slender still, for some of us. William, +Phil and Jerry were her children, and it is not to accuse her too severely, to +allege that she was often guilty of starving myself and the other children, +while she was literally cramming her own. Want of food was my chief trouble the +first summer at my old master’s. Oysters and clams would do very well, +with an occasional supply of bread, but they soon failed in the absence of +bread. I speak but the simple truth, when I say, I have often been so pinched +with hunger, that I have fought with the dog—“Old +Nep”—for the smallest crumbs that fell from the kitchen table, and +have been glad when I won a single crumb in the combat. Many times have I +followed, with eager step, the waiting-girl when she went out to shake the +table cloth, to get the crumbs and small bones flung out for the cats. The +water, in which meat had been boiled, was as eagerly sought for by me. It was a +great thing to get the privilege of dipping a piece of bread in such water; and +the skin taken from rusty bacon, was a positive luxury. Nevertheless, I +sometimes got full meals and kind words from sympathizing old slaves, who knew +my sufferings, and received the comforting assurance that I should be a man +some day. “Never mind, honey—better day comin’,” was +even then a solace, a cheering consolation to me in my troubles. Nor were all +the kind words I received from slaves. I had a friend in the parlor, as well, +and one to whom I shall be glad to do justice, before I have finished this part +of my story. +</p> + +<p> +I was not long at old master’s, before I learned that his surname was +Anthony, and that he was generally called “Captain Anthony”—a +title which he probably acquired by sailing a craft in the Chesapeake Bay. Col. +Lloyd’s slaves never called Capt. Anthony “old master,” but +always Capt. Anthony; and <i>me</i> they called “Captain Anthony +Fred.” There is not, probably, in the whole south, a plantation where the +English language is more imperfectly spoken than on Col. Lloyd’s. It is a +mixture of Guinea and everything else you please. At the time of which I am now +writing, there were slaves there who had been brought from the coast of Africa. +They never used the “s” in indication of the possessive case. +“Cap’n Ant’ney Tom,” “Lloyd Bill,” +“Aunt Rose Harry,” means “Captain Anthony’s Tom,” +“Lloyd’s Bill,” &c. <i>“Oo you dem long +to?”</i> means, “Whom do you belong to?” <i>“Oo dem got +any peachy?”</i> means, “Have you got any peaches?” I could +scarcely understand them when I first went among them, so broken was their +speech; and I am persuaded that I could not have been dropped anywhere on the +globe, where I could reap less, in the way of knowledge, from my immediate +associates, than on this plantation. Even “MAS’ DANIEL,” by +his association with his father’s slaves, had measurably adopted their +dialect and their ideas, so far as they had ideas to be adopted. The equality +of nature is strongly asserted in childhood, and childhood requires children +for associates. <i>Color</i> makes no difference with a child. Are you a child +with wants, tastes and pursuits common to children, not put on, but natural? +then, were you black as ebony you would be welcome to the child of alabaster +whiteness. The law of compensation holds here, as well as elsewhere. Mas’ +Daniel could not associate with ignorance without sharing its shade; and he +could not give his black playmates his company, without giving them his +intelligence, as well. Without knowing this, or caring about it, at the time, +I, for some cause or other, spent much of my time with Mas’ Daniel, in +preference to spending it with most of the other boys. +</p> + +<p> +Mas’ Daniel was the youngest son of Col. Lloyd; his older brothers were +Edward and Murray—both grown up, and fine looking men. Edward was +especially esteemed by the children, and by me among the rest; not that he ever +said anything to us or for us, which could be called especially kind; it was +enough for us, that he never looked nor acted scornfully toward us. There were +also three sisters, all married; one to Edward Winder; a second to Edward +Nicholson; a third to Mr. Lownes. +</p> + +<p> +The family of old master consisted of two sons, Andrew and Richard; his +daughter, Lucretia, and her newly married husband, Capt. Auld. This was the +house family. The kitchen family consisted of Aunt Katy, Aunt Esther, and ten +or a dozen children, most of them older than myself. Capt. Anthony was not +considered a rich slaveholder, but was pretty well off in the world. He owned +about thirty <i>“head”</i> of slaves, and three farms in Tuckahoe. +The most valuable part of his property was his slaves, of whom he could afford +to sell one every year. This crop, therefore, brought him seven or eight +hundred dollars a year, besides his yearly salary, and other revenue from his +farms. +</p> + +<p> +The idea of rank and station was rigidly maintained on Col. Lloyd’s +plantation. Our family never visited the great house, and the Lloyds never came +to our home. Equal non-intercourse was observed between Capt. Anthony’s +family and that of Mr. Sevier, the overseer. +</p> + +<p> +Such, kind reader, was the community, and such the place, in which my earliest +and most lasting impressions of slavery, and of slave-life, were received; of +which impressions you will learn more in the coming chapters of this book. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> +CHAPTER V. <i>Gradual Initiation to the Mysteries of Slavery</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +GROWING ACQUAINTANCE WITH OLD MASTER—HIS CHARACTER—EVILS OF +UNRESTRAINED PASSION—APPARENT TENDERNESS—OLD MASTER A MAN OF +TROUBLE—CUSTOM OF MUTTERING TO HIMSELF—NECESSITY OF BEING AWARE OF +HIS WORDS—THE SUPPOSED OBTUSENESS OF SLAVE-CHILDREN—BRUTAL +OUTRAGE—DRUNKEN OVERSEER—SLAVEHOLDER’S +IMPATIENCE—WISDOM OF APPEALING TO SUPERIORS—THE SLAVEHOLDER S WRATH +BAD AS THAT OF THE OVERSEER—A BASE AND SELFISH ATTEMPT TO BREAK UP A +COURTSHIP—A HARROWING SCENE. +</p> + +<p> +Although my old master—Capt. Anthony—gave me at first, (as the +reader will have already seen) very little attention, and although that little +was of a remarkably mild and gentle description, a few months only were +sufficient to convince me that mildness and gentleness were not the prevailing +or governing traits of his character. These excellent qualities were displayed +only occasionally. He could, when it suited him, appear to be literally +insensible to the claims of humanity, when appealed to by the helpless against +an aggressor, and he could himself commit outrages, deep, dark and nameless. +Yet he was not by nature worse than other men. Had he been brought up in a free +state, surrounded by the just restraints of free society—restraints which +are necessary to the freedom of all its members, alike and equally—Capt. +Anthony might have been as humane a man, and every way as respectable, as many +who now oppose the slave system; certainly as humane and respectable as are +members of society generally. The slaveholder, as well as the slave, is the +victim of the slave system. A man’s character greatly takes its hue and +shape from the form and color of things about him. Under the whole heavens +there is no relation more unfavorable to the development of honorable +character, than that sustained by the slaveholder to the slave. Reason is +imprisoned here, and passions run wild. Like the fires of the prairie, once +lighted, they are at the mercy of every wind, and must burn, till they have +consumed all that is combustible within their remorseless grasp. Capt. Anthony +could be kind, and, at times, he even showed an affectionate disposition. Could +the reader have seen him gently leading me by the hand—as he sometimes +did—patting me on the head, speaking to me in soft, caressing tones and +calling me his “little Indian boy,” he would have deemed him a kind +old man, and really, almost fatherly. But the pleasant moods of a slaveholder +are remarkably brittle; they are easily snapped; they neither come often, nor +remain long. His temper is subjected to perpetual trials; but, since these +trials are never borne patiently, they add nothing to his natural stock of +patience. +</p> + +<p> +Old master very early impressed me with the idea that he was an unhappy man. +Even to my child’s eye, he wore a troubled, and at times, a haggard +aspect. His strange movements excited my curiosity, and awakened my compassion. +He seldom walked alone without muttering to himself; and he occasionally +stormed about, as if defying an army of invisible foes. “He would do +this, that, and the other; he’d be d—d if he did +not,”—was the usual form of his threats. Most of his leisure was +spent in walking, cursing and gesticulating, like one possessed by a demon. +Most evidently, he was a wretched man, at war with his own soul, and with all +the world around him. To be overheard by the children, disturbed him very +little. He made no more of our presence, than of that of the ducks and geese +which he met on the green. He little thought that the little black urchins +around him, could see, through those vocal crevices, the very secrets of his +heart. Slaveholders ever underrate the intelligence with which they have to +grapple. I really understood the old man’s mutterings, attitudes and +gestures, about as well as he did himself. But slaveholders never encourage +that kind of communication, with the slaves, by which they might learn to +measure the depths of his knowledge. Ignorance is a high virtue in a human +chattel; and as the master studies to keep the slave ignorant, the slave is +cunning enough to make the master think he succeeds. The slave fully +appreciates the saying, “where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be +wise.” When old master’s gestures were violent, ending with a +threatening shake of the head, and a sharp snap of his middle finger and thumb, +I deemed it wise to keep at a respectable distance from him; for, at such +times, trifling faults stood, in his eyes, as momentous offenses; and, having +both the power and the disposition, the victim had only to be near him to catch +the punishment, deserved or undeserved. +</p> + +<p> +One of the first circumstances that opened my eyes to the cruelty and +wickedness of slavery, and the heartlessness of my old master, was the refusal +of the latter to interpose his authority, to protect and shield a young woman, +who had been most cruelly abused and beaten by his overseer in Tuckahoe. This +overseer—a Mr. Plummer—was a man like most of his class, little +better than a human brute; and, in addition to his general profligacy and +repulsive coarseness, the creature was a miserable drunkard. He was, probably, +employed by my old master, less on account of the excellence of his services, +than for the cheap rate at which they could be obtained. He was not fit to have +the management of a drove of mules. In a fit of drunken madness, he committed +the outrage which brought the young woman in question down to my old +master’s for protection. This young woman was the daughter of Milly, an +own aunt of mine. The poor girl, on arriving at our house, presented a pitiable +appearance. She had left in haste, and without preparation; and, probably, +without the knowledge of Mr. Plummer. She had traveled twelve miles, +bare-footed, bare-necked and bare-headed. Her neck and shoulders were covered +with scars, newly made; and not content with marring her neck and shoulders, +with the cowhide, the cowardly brute had dealt her a blow on the head with a +hickory club, which cut a horrible gash, and left her face literally covered +with blood. In this condition, the poor young woman came down, to implore +protection at the hands of my old master. I expected to see him boil over with +rage at the revolting deed, and to hear him fill the air with curses upon the +brutual Plummer; but I was disappointed. He sternly told her, in an angry tone, +he “believed she deserved every bit of it,” and, if she did not go +home instantly, he would himself take the remaining skin from her neck and +back. Thus was the poor girl compelled to return, without redress, and perhaps +to receive an additional flogging for daring to appeal to old master against +the overseer. +</p> + +<p> +Old master seemed furious at the thought of being troubled by such complaints. +I did not, at that time, understand the philosophy of his treatment of my +cousin. It was stern, unnatural, violent. Had the man no bowels of compassion? +Was he dead to all sense of humanity? No. I think I now understand it. This +treatment is a part of the system, rather than a part of the man. Were +slaveholders to listen to complaints of this sort against the overseers, the +luxury of owning large numbers of slaves, would be impossible. It would do away +with the office of overseer, entirely; or, in other words, it would convert the +master himself into an overseer. It would occasion great loss of time and +labor, leaving the overseer in fetters, and without the necessary power to +secure obedience to his orders. A privilege so dangerous as that of appeal, is, +therefore, strictly prohibited; and any one exercising it, runs a fearful +hazard. Nevertheless, when a slave has nerve enough to exercise it, and boldly +approaches his master, with a well-founded complaint against an overseer, +though he may be repulsed, and may even have that of which he complains +repeated at the time, and, though he may be beaten by his master, as well as by +the overseer, for his temerity, in the end the policy of complaining is, +generally, vindicated by the relaxed rigor of the overseer’s treatment. +The latter becomes more careful, and less disposed to use the lash upon such +slaves thereafter. It is with this final result in view, rather than with any +expectation of immediate good, that the outraged slave is induced to meet his +master with a complaint. The overseer very naturally dislikes to have the ear +of the master disturbed by complaints; and, either upon this consideration, or +upon advice and warning privately given him by his employers, he generally +modifies the rigor of his rule, after an outbreak of the kind to which I have +been referring. +</p> + +<p> +Howsoever the slaveholder may allow himself to act toward his slave, and, +whatever cruelty he may deem it wise, for example’s sake, or for the +gratification of his humor, to inflict, he cannot, in the absence of all +provocation, look with pleasure upon the bleeding wounds of a defenseless +slave-woman. When he drives her from his presence without redress, or the hope +of redress, he acts, generally, from motives of policy, rather than from a +hardened nature, or from innate brutality. Yet, let but his own temper be +stirred, his own passions get loose, and the slave-owner will go <i>far +beyond</i> the overseer in cruelty. He will convince the slave that his wrath +is far more terrible and boundless, and vastly more to be dreaded, than that of +the underling overseer. What may have been mechanically and heartlessly done by +the overseer, is now done with a will. The man who now wields the lash is +irresponsible. He may, if he pleases, cripple or kill, without fear of +consequences; except in so far as it may concern profit or loss. To a man of +violent temper—as my old master was—this was but a very slender and +inefficient restraint. I have seen him in a tempest of passion, such as I have +just described—a passion into which entered all the bitter ingredients of +pride, hatred, envy, jealousy, and the thrist(sic) for revenge. +</p> + +<p> +The circumstances which I am about to narrate, and which gave rise to this +fearful tempest of passion, are not singular nor isolated in slave life, but +are common in every slaveholding community in which I have lived. They are +incidental to the relation of master and slave, and exist in all sections of +slave-holding countries. +</p> + +<p> +The reader will have noticed that, in enumerating the names of the slaves who +lived with my old master, <i>Esther</i> is mentioned. This was a young woman +who possessed that which is ever a curse to the slave-girl; +namely—personal beauty. She was tall, well formed, and made a fine +appearance. The daughters of Col. Lloyd could scarcely surpass her in personal +charms. Esther was courted by Ned Roberts, and he was as fine looking a young +man, as she was a woman. He was the son of a favorite slave of Col. Lloyd. Some +slaveholders would have been glad to promote the marriage of two such persons; +but, for some reason or other, my old master took it upon him to break up the +growing intimacy between Esther and Edward. He strictly ordered her to quit the +company of said Roberts, telling her that he would punish her severely if he +ever found her again in Edward’s company. This unnatural and heartless +order was, of course, broken. A woman’s love is not to be annihilated by +the peremptory command of any one, whose breath is in his nostrils. It was +impossible to keep Edward and Esther apart. Meet they would, and meet they did. +Had old master been a man of honor and purity, his motives, in this matter, +might have been viewed more favorably. As it was, his motives were as +abhorrent, as his methods were foolish and contemptible. It was too evident +that he was not concerned for the girl’s welfare. It is one of the +damning characteristics of the slave system, that it robs its victims of every +earthly incentive to a holy life. The fear of God, and the hope of heaven, are +found sufficient to sustain many slave-women, amidst the snares and dangers of +their strange lot; but, this side of God and heaven, a slave-woman is at the +mercy of the power, caprice and passion of her owner. Slavery provides no means +for the honorable continuance of the race. Marriage as imposing obligations on +the parties to it—has no existence here, except in such hearts as are +purer and higher than the standard morality around them. It is one of the +consolations of my life, that I know of many honorable instances of persons who +maintained their honor, where all around was corrupt. +</p> + +<p> +Esther was evidently much attached to Edward, and abhorred—as she had +reason to do—the tyrannical and base behavior of old master. Edward was +young, and fine looking, and he loved and courted her. He might have been her +husband, in the high sense just alluded to; but WHO and <i>what</i> was this +old master? His attentions were plainly brutal and selfish, and it was as +natural that Esther should loathe him, as that she should love Edward. Abhorred +and circumvented as he was, old master, having the power, very easily took +revenge. I happened to see this exhibition of his rage and cruelty toward +Esther. The time selected was singular. It was early in the morning, when all +besides was still, and before any of the family, in the house or kitchen, had +left their beds. I saw but few of the shocking preliminaries, for the cruel +work had begun before I awoke. I was probably awakened by the shrieks and +piteous cries of poor Esther. My sleeping place was on the floor of a little, +rough closet, which opened into the kitchen; and through the cracks of its +unplaned boards, I could distinctly see and hear what was going on, without +being seen by old master. Esther’s wrists were firmly tied, and the +twisted rope was fastened to a strong staple in a heavy wooden joist above, +near the fireplace. Here she stood, on a bench, her arms tightly drawn over her +breast. Her back and shoulders were bare to the waist. Behind her stood old +master, with cowskin in hand, preparing his barbarous work with all manner of +harsh, coarse, and tantalizing epithets. The screams of his victim were most +piercing. He was cruelly deliberate, and protracted the torture, as one who was +delighted with the scene. Again and again he drew the hateful whip through his +hand, adjusting it with a view of dealing the most pain-giving blow. Poor +Esther had never yet been severely whipped, and her shoulders were plump and +tender. Each blow, vigorously laid on, brought screams as well as blood. +<i>“Have mercy; Oh! have mercy”</i> she cried; “<i>I +won’t do so no more;”</i> but her piercing cries seemed only to +increase his fury. His answers to them are too coarse and blasphemous to be +produced here. The whole scene, with all its attendants, was revolting and +shocking, to the last degree; and when the motives of this brutal castigation +are considered,—language has no power to convey a just sense of its awful +criminality. After laying on some thirty or forty stripes, old master untied +his suffering victim, and let her get down. She could scarcely stand, when +untied. From my heart I pitied her, and—child though I was—the +outrage kindled in me a feeling far from peaceful; but I was hushed, terrified, +stunned, and could do nothing, and the fate of Esther might be mine next. The +scene here described was often repeated in the case of poor Esther, and her +life, as I knew it, was one of wretchedness. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> +CHAPTER VI. <i>Treatment of Slaves on Lloyd’s Plantation</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +EARLY REFLECTIONS ON SLAVERY—PRESENTIMENT OF ONE DAY BEING A +FREEMAN—COMBAT BETWEEN AN OVERSEER AND A SLAVEWOMAN—THE ADVANTAGES +OF RESISTANCE—ALLOWANCE DAY ON THE HOME PLANTATION—THE SINGING OF +SLAVES—AN EXPLANATION—THE SLAVES FOOD AND CLOTHING—NAKED +CHILDREN—LIFE IN THE QUARTER—DEPRIVATION OF SLEEP—NURSING +CHILDREN CARRIED TO THE FIELD—DESCRIPTION OF THE COWSKIN—THE +ASH-CAKE—MANNER OF MAKING IT—THE DINNER HOUR—THE CONTRAST. +</p> + +<p> +The heart-rending incidents, related in the foregoing chapter, led me, thus +early, to inquire into the nature and history of slavery. <i>Why am I a slave? +Why are some people slaves, and others masters? Was there ever a time this was +not so? How did the relation commence?</i> These were the perplexing questions +which began now to claim my thoughts, and to exercise the weak powers of my +mind, for I was still but a child, and knew less than children of the same age +in the free states. As my questions concerning these things were only put to +children a little older, and little better informed than myself, I was not +rapid in reaching a solid footing. By some means I learned from these inquiries +that <i>“God, up in the sky,”</i> made every body; and that he made +<i>white</i> people to be masters and mistresses, and <i>black</i> people to be +slaves. This did not satisfy me, nor lessen my interest in the subject. I was +told, too, that God was good, and that He knew what was best for me, and best +for everybody. This was less satisfactory than the first statement; because it +came, point blank, against all my notions of goodness. It was not good to let +old master cut the flesh off Esther, and make her cry so. Besides, how did +people know that God made black people to be slaves? Did they go up in the sky +and learn it? or, did He come down and tell them so? All was dark here. It was +some relief to my hard notions of the goodness of God, that, although he made +white men to be slaveholders, he did not make them to be <i>bad</i> +slaveholders, and that, in due time, he would punish the bad slaveholders; that +he would, when they died, send them to the bad place, where they would be +“burnt up.” Nevertheless, I could not reconcile the relation of +slavery with my crude notions of goodness. +</p> + +<p> +Then, too, I found that there were puzzling exceptions to this theory of +slavery on both sides, and in the middle. I knew of blacks who were <i>not</i> +slaves; I knew of whites who were <i>not</i> slaveholders; and I knew of +persons who were <i>nearly</i> white, who were slaves. <i>Color</i>, therefore, +was a very unsatisfactory basis for slavery. +</p> + +<p> +Once, however, engaged in the inquiry, I was not very long in finding out the +true solution of the matter. It was not <i>color</i>, but <i>crime</i>, not +<i>God</i>, but <i>man</i>, that afforded the true explanation of the existence +of slavery; nor was I long in finding out another important truth, viz: what +man can make, man can unmake. The appalling darkness faded away, and I was +master of the subject. There were slaves here, direct from Guinea; and there +were many who could say that their fathers and mothers were stolen from +Africa—forced from their homes, and compelled to serve as slaves. This, +to me, was knowledge; but it was a kind of knowledge which filled me with a +burning hatred of slavery, increased my suffering, and left me without the +means of breaking away from my bondage. Yet it was knowledge quite worth +possessing. I could not have been more than seven or eight years old, when I +began to make this subject my study. It was with me in the woods and fields; +along the shore of the river, and wherever my boyish wanderings led me; and +though I was, at that time, quite ignorant of the existence of the free states, +I distinctly remember being, <i>even then</i>, most strongly impressed with the +idea of being a freeman some day. This cheering assurance was an inborn dream +of my human nature a constant menace to slavery—and one which all the +powers of slavery were unable to silence or extinguish. +</p> + +<p> +Up to the time of the brutal flogging of my Aunt Esther—for she was my +own aunt—and the horrid plight in which I had seen my cousin from +Tuckahoe, who had been so badly beaten by the cruel Mr. Plummer, my attention +had not been called, especially, to the gross features of slavery. I had, of +course, heard of whippings and of savage <i>rencontres</i> between overseers +and slaves, but I had always been out of the way at the times and places of +their occurrence. My plays and sports, most of the time, took me from the corn +and tobacco fields, where the great body of the hands were at work, and where +scenes of cruelty were enacted and witnessed. But, after the whipping of Aunt +Esther, I saw many cases of the same shocking nature, not only in my +master’s house, but on Col. Lloyd’s plantation. One of the first +which I saw, and which greatly agitated me, was the whipping of a woman +belonging to Col. Lloyd, named Nelly. The offense alleged against Nelly, was +one of the commonest and most indefinite in the whole catalogue of offenses +usually laid to the charge of slaves, viz: “impudence.” This may +mean almost anything, or nothing at all, just according to the caprice of the +master or overseer, at the moment. But, whatever it is, or is not, if it gets +the name of “impudence,” the party charged with it is sure of a +flogging. This offense may be committed in various ways; in the tone of an +answer; in answering at all; in not answering; in the expression of +countenance; in the motion of the head; in the gait, manner and bearing of the +slave. In the case under consideration, I can easily believe that, according to +all slaveholding standards, here was a genuine instance of impudence. In Nelly +there were all the necessary conditions for committing the offense. She was a +bright mulatto, the recognized wife of a favorite “hand” on board +Col. Lloyd’s sloop, and the mother of five sprightly children. She was a +vigorous and spirited woman, and one of the most likely, on the plantation, to +be guilty of impudence. My attention was called to the scene, by the noise, +curses and screams that proceeded from it; and, on going a little in that +direction, I came upon the parties engaged in the skirmish. Mr. Siever, the +overseer, had hold of Nelly, when I caught sight of them; he was endeavoring to +drag her toward a tree, which endeavor Nelly was sternly resisting; but to no +purpose, except to retard the progress of the overseer’s plans. +Nelly—as I have said—was the mother of five children; three of them +were present, and though quite small (from seven to ten years old, I should +think) they gallantly came to their mother’s defense, and gave the +overseer an excellent pelting with stones. One of the little fellows ran up, +seized the overseer by the leg and bit him; but the monster was too busily +engaged with Nelly, to pay any attention to the assaults of the children. There +were numerous bloody marks on Mr. Sevier’s face, when I first saw him, +and they increased as the struggle went on. The imprints of Nelly’s +fingers were visible, and I was glad to see them. Amidst the wild screams of +the children—“<i>Let my mammy go”—“let my mammy +go</i>”—there escaped, from between the teeth of the bullet-headed +overseer, a few bitter curses, mingled with threats, that “he would teach +the d—d b—h how to give a white man impudence.” There is no +doubt that Nelly felt herself superior, in some respects, to the slaves around +her. She was a wife and a mother; her husband was a valued and favorite slave. +Besides, he was one of the first hands on board of the sloop, and the sloop +hands—since they had to represent the plantation abroad—were +generally treated tenderly. The overseer never was allowed to whip Harry; why +then should he be allowed to whip Harry’s wife? Thoughts of this kind, no +doubt, influenced her; but, for whatever reason, she nobly resisted, and, +unlike most of the slaves, seemed determined to make her whipping cost Mr. +Sevier as much as possible. The blood on his (and her) face, attested her +skill, as well as her courage and dexterity in using her nails. Maddened by her +resistance, I expected to see Mr. Sevier level her to the ground by a stunning +blow; but no; like a savage bull-dog—which he resembled both in temper +and appearance—he maintained his grip, and steadily dragged his victim +toward the tree, disregarding alike her blows, and the cries of the children +for their mother’s release. He would, doubtless, have knocked her down +with his hickory stick, but that such act might have cost him his place. It is +often deemed advisable to knock a <i>man</i> slave down, in order to tie him, +but it is considered cowardly and inexcusable, in an overseer, thus to deal +with a <i>woman</i>. He is expected to tie her up, and to give her what is +called, in southern parlance, a “genteel flogging,” without any +very great outlay of strength or skill. I watched, with palpitating interest, +the course of the preliminary struggle, and was saddened by every new advantage +gained over her by the ruffian. There were times when she seemed likely to get +the better of the brute, but he finally overpowered her, and succeeded in +getting his rope around her arms, and in firmly tying her to the tree, at which +he had been aiming. This done, and Nelly was at the mercy of his merciless +lash; and now, what followed, I have no heart to describe. The cowardly +creature made good his every threat; and wielded the lash with all the hot zest +of furious revenge. The cries of the woman, while undergoing the terrible +infliction, were mingled with those of the children, sounds which I hope the +reader may never be called upon to hear. When Nelly was untied, her back was +covered with blood. The red stripes were all over her shoulders. She was +whipped—severely whipped; but she was not subdued, for she continued to +denounce the overseer, and to call him every vile name. He had bruised her +flesh, but had left her invincible spirit undaunted. Such floggings are seldom +repeated by the same overseer. They prefer to whip those who are most easily +whipped. The old doctrine that submission is the very best cure for outrage and +wrong, does not hold good on the slave plantation. He is whipped oftenest, who +is whipped easiest; and that slave who has the courage to stand up for himself +against the overseer, although he may have many hard stripes at the first, +becomes, in the end, a freeman, even though he sustain the formal relation of a +slave. “You can shoot me but you can’t whip me,” said a slave +to Rigby Hopkins; and the result was that he was neither whipped nor shot. If +the latter had been his fate, it would have been less deplorable than the +living and lingering death to which cowardly and slavish souls are subjected. I +do not know that Mr. Sevier ever undertook to whip Nelly again. He probably +never did, for it was not long after his attempt to subdue her, that he was +taken sick, and died. The wretched man died as he had lived, unrepentant; and +it was said—with how much truth I know not—that in the very last +hours of his life, his ruling passion showed itself, and that when wrestling +with death, he was uttering horrid oaths, and flourishing the cowskin, as +though he was tearing the flesh off some helpless slave. One thing is certain, +that when he was in health, it was enough to chill the blood, and to stiffen +the hair of an ordinary man, to hear Mr. Sevier talk. Nature, or his cruel +habits, had given to his face an expression of unusual savageness, even for a +slave-driver. Tobacco and rage had worn his teeth short, and nearly every +sentence that escaped their compressed grating, was commenced or concluded with +some outburst of profanity. His presence made the field alike the field of +blood, and of blasphemy. Hated for his cruelty, despised for his cowardice, his +death was deplored by no one outside his own house—if indeed it was +deplored there; it was regarded by the slaves as a merciful interposition of +Providence. Never went there a man to the grave loaded with heavier curses. Mr. +Sevier’s place was promptly taken by a Mr. Hopkins, and the change was +quite a relief, he being a very different man. He was, in all respects, a +better man than his predecessor; as good as any man can be, and yet be an +overseer. His course was characterized by no extraordinary cruelty; and when he +whipped a slave, as he sometimes did, he seemed to take no especial pleasure in +it, but, on the contrary, acted as though he felt it to be a mean business. Mr. +Hopkins stayed but a short time; his place much to the regret of the slaves +generally—was taken by a Mr. Gore, of whom more will be said hereafter. +It is enough, for the present, to say, that he was no improvement on Mr. +Sevier, except that he was less noisy and less profane. +</p> + +<p> +I have already referred to the business-like aspect of Col. Lloyd’s +plantation. This business-like appearance was much increased on the two days at +the end of each month, when the slaves from the different farms came to get +their monthly allowance of meal and meat. These were gala days for the slaves, +and there was much rivalry among them as to <i>who</i> should be elected to go +up to the great house farm for the allowance, and, indeed, to attend to any +business at this (for them) the capital. The beauty and grandeur of the place, +its numerous slave population, and the fact that Harry, Peter and Jake the +sailors of the sloop—almost always kept, privately, little trinkets which +they bought at Baltimore, to sell, made it a privilege to come to the great +house farm. Being selected, too, for this office, was deemed a high honor. It +was taken as a proof of confidence and favor; but, probably, the chief motive +of the competitors for the place, was, a desire to break the dull monotony of +the field, and to get beyond the overseer’s eye and lash. Once on the +road with an ox team, and seated on the tongue of his cart, with no overseer to +look after him, the slave was comparatively free; and, if thoughtful, he had +time to think. Slaves are generally expected to sing as well as to work. A +silent slave is not liked by masters or overseers. <i>“Make a +noise,” “make a noise,”</i> and <i>“bear a +hand,”</i> are the words usually addressed to the slaves when there is +silence amongst them. This may account for the almost constant singing heard in +the southern states. There was, generally, more or less singing among the +teamsters, as it was one means of letting the overseer know where they were, +and that they were moving on with the work. But, on allowance day, those who +visited the great house farm were peculiarly excited and noisy. While on their +way, they would make the dense old woods, for miles around, reverberate with +their wild notes. These were not always merry because they were wild. On the +contrary, they were mostly of a plaintive cast, and told a tale of grief and +sorrow. In the most boisterous outbursts of rapturous sentiment, there was ever +a tinge of deep melancholy. I have never heard any songs like those anywhere +since I left slavery, except when in Ireland. There I heard the same <i>wailing +notes</i>, and was much affected by them. It was during the famine of 1845-6. +In all the songs of the slaves, there was ever some expression in praise of the +great house farm; something which would flatter the pride of the owner, and, +possibly, draw a favorable glance from him. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I am going away to the great house farm,<br/> +O yea! O yea! O yea!<br/> +My old master is a good old master,<br/> +O yea! O yea! O yea! +</p> + +<p> +This they would sing, with other words of their own improvising—jargon to +others, but full of meaning to themselves. I have sometimes thought, that the +mere hearing of those songs would do more to impress truly spiritual-minded men +and women with the soul-crushing and death-dealing character of slavery, than +the reading of whole volumes of its mere physical cruelties. They speak to the +heart and to the soul of the thoughtful. I cannot better express my sense of +them now, than ten years ago, when, in sketching my life, I thus spoke of this +feature of my plantation experience: +</p> + +<p> +I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meanings of those rude, and +apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the circle, so that I neither +saw or heard as those without might see and hear. They told a tale which was +then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension; they were tones, loud, long and +deep, breathing the prayer and complaint of souls boiling over with the +bitterest anguish. Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to +God for deliverance from chains. The hearing of those wild notes always +depressed my spirits, and filled my heart with ineffable sadness. The mere +recurrence, even now, afflicts my spirit, and while I am writing these lines, +my tears are falling. To those songs I trace my first glimmering conceptions of +the dehumanizing character of slavery. I can never get rid of that conception. +Those songs still follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my +sympathies for my brethren in bonds. If any one wishes to be impressed with a +sense of the soul-killing power of slavery, let him go to Col. Lloyd’s +plantation, and, on allowance day, place himself in the deep, pine woods, and +there let him, in silence, thoughtfully analyze the sounds that shall pass +through the chambers of his soul, and if he is not thus impressed, it will only +be because “there is no flesh in his obdurate heart.” +</p> + +<p> +The remark is not unfrequently made, that slaves are the most contended and +happy laborers in the world. They dance and sing, and make all manner of joyful +noises—so they do; but it is a great mistake to suppose them happy +because they sing. The songs of the slave represent the sorrows, rather than +the joys, of his heart; and he is relieved by them, only as an aching heart is +relieved by its tears. Such is the constitution of the human mind, that, when +pressed to extremes, it often avails itself of the most opposite methods. +Extremes meet in mind as in matter. When the slaves on board of the +“Pearl” were overtaken, arrested, and carried to prison—their +hopes for freedom blasted—as they marched in chains they sang, and found +(as Emily Edmunson tells us) a melancholy relief in singing. The singing of a +man cast away on a desolate island, might be as appropriately considered an +evidence of his contentment and happiness, as the singing of a slave. Sorrow +and desolation have their songs, as well as joy and peace. Slaves sing more to +<i>make</i> themselves happy, than to express their happiness. +</p> + +<p> +It is the boast of slaveholders, that their slaves enjoy more of the physical +comforts of life than the peasantry of any country in the world. My experience +contradicts this. The men and the women slaves on Col. Lloyd’s farm, +received, as their monthly allowance of food, eight pounds of pickled pork, or +their equivalent in fish. The pork was often tainted, and the fish was of the +poorest quality—herrings, which would bring very little if offered for +sale in any northern market. With their pork or fish, they had one bushel of +Indian meal—unbolted—of which quite fifteen per cent was fit only +to feed pigs. With this, one pint of salt was given; and this was the entire +monthly allowance of a full grown slave, working constantly in the open field, +from morning until night, every day in the month except Sunday, and living on a +fraction more than a quarter of a pound of meat per day, and less than a peck +of corn-meal per week. There is no kind of work that a man can do which +requires a better supply of food to prevent physical exhaustion, than the +field-work of a slave. So much for the slave’s allowance of food; now for +his raiment. The yearly allowance of clothing for the slaves on this +plantation, consisted of two tow-linen shirts—such linen as the coarsest +crash towels are made of; one pair of trowsers of the same material, for +summer, and a pair of trowsers and a jacket of woolen, most slazily put +together, for winter; one pair of yarn stockings, and one pair of shoes of the +coarsest description. The slave’s entire apparel could not have cost more +than eight dollars per year. The allowance of food and clothing for the little +children, was committed to their mothers, or to the older slavewomen having the +care of them. Children who were unable to work in the field, had neither shoes, +stockings, jackets nor trowsers given them. Their clothing consisted of two +coarse tow-linen shirts—already described—per year; and when these +failed them, as they often did, they went naked until the next allowance day. +Flocks of little children from five to ten years old, might be seen on Col. +Lloyd’s plantation, as destitute of clothing as any little heathen on the +west coast of Africa; and this, not merely during the summer months, but during +the frosty weather of March. The little girls were no better off than the boys; +all were nearly in a state of nudity. +</p> + +<p> +As to beds to sleep on, they were known to none of the field hands; nothing but +a coarse blanket—not so good as those used in the north to cover +horses—was given them, and this only to the men and women. The children +stuck themselves in holes and corners, about the quarters; often in the corner +of the huge chimneys, with their feet in the ashes to keep them warm. The want +of beds, however, was not considered a very great privation. Time to sleep was +of far greater importance, for, when the day’s work is done, most of the +slaves have their washing, mending and cooking to do; and, having few or none +of the ordinary facilities for doing such things, very many of their sleeping +hours are consumed in necessary preparations for the duties of the coming day. +</p> + +<p> +The sleeping apartments—if they may be called such—have little +regard to comfort or decency. Old and young, male and female, married and +single, drop down upon the common clay floor, each covering up with his or her +blanket,—the only protection they have from cold or exposure. The night, +however, is shortened at both ends. The slaves work often as long as they can +see, and are late in cooking and mending for the coming day; and, at the first +gray streak of morning, they are summoned to the field by the driver’s +horn. +</p> + +<p> +More slaves are whipped for oversleeping than for any other fault. Neither age +nor sex finds any favor. The overseer stands at the quarter door, armed with +stick and cowskin, ready to whip any who may be a few minutes behind time. When +the horn is blown, there is a rush for the door, and the hindermost one is sure +to get a blow from the overseer. Young mothers who worked in the field, were +allowed an hour, about ten o’clock in the morning, to go home to nurse +their children. Sometimes they were compelled to take their children with them, +and to leave them in the corner of the fences, to prevent loss of time in +nursing them. The overseer generally rides about the field on horseback. A +cowskin and a hickory stick are his constant companions. The cowskin is a kind +of whip seldom seen in the northern states. It is made entirely of untanned, +but dried, ox hide, and is about as hard as a piece of well-seasoned live oak. +It is made of various sizes, but the usual length is about three feet. The part +held in the hand is nearly an inch in thickness; and, from the extreme end of +the butt or handle, the cowskin tapers its whole length to a point. This makes +it quite elastic and springy. A blow with it, on the hardest back, will gash +the flesh, and make the blood start. Cowskins are painted red, blue and green, +and are the favorite slave whip. I think this whip worse than the +“cat-o’nine-tails.” It condenses the whole strength of the +arm to a single point, and comes with a spring that makes the air whistle. It +is a terrible instrument, and is so handy, that the overseer can always have it +on his person, and ready for use. The temptation to use it is ever strong; and +an overseer can, if disposed, always have cause for using it. With him, it is +literally a word and a blow, and, in most cases, the blow comes first. +</p> + +<p> +As a general rule, slaves do not come to the quarters for either breakfast or +dinner, but take their “ash cake” with them, and eat it in the +field. This was so on the home plantation; probably, because the distance from +the quarter to the field, was sometimes two, and even three miles. +</p> + +<p> +The dinner of the slaves consisted of a huge piece of ash cake, and a small +piece of pork, or two salt herrings. Not having ovens, nor any suitable cooking +utensils, the slaves mixed their meal with a little water, to such thickness +that a spoon would stand erect in it; and, after the wood had burned away to +coals and ashes, they would place the dough between oak leaves and lay it +carefully in the ashes, completely covering it; hence, the bread is called ash +cake. The surface of this peculiar bread is covered with ashes, to the depth of +a sixteenth part of an inch, and the ashes, certainly, do not make it very +grateful to the teeth, nor render it very palatable. The bran, or coarse part +of the meal, is baked with the fine, and bright scales run through the bread. +This bread, with its ashes and bran, would disgust and choke a northern man, +but it is quite liked by the slaves. They eat it with avidity, and are more +concerned about the quantity than about the quality. They are far too scantily +provided for, and are worked too steadily, to be much concerned for the quality +of their food. The few minutes allowed them at dinner time, after partaking of +their coarse repast, are variously spent. Some lie down on the “turning +row,” and go to sleep; others draw together, and talk; and others are at +work with needle and thread, mending their tattered garments. Sometimes you may +hear a wild, hoarse laugh arise from a circle, and often a song. Soon, however, +the overseer comes dashing through the field. <i>“Tumble up! Tumble +up</i>, and to <i>work, work,”</i> is the cry; and, now, from twelve +o’clock (mid-day) till dark, the human cattle are in motion, wielding +their clumsy hoes; hurried on by no hope of reward, no sense of gratitude, no +love of children, no prospect of bettering their condition; nothing, save the +dread and terror of the slave-driver’s lash. So goes one day, and so +comes and goes another. +</p> + +<p> +But, let us now leave the rough usage of the field, where vulgar coarseness and +brutal cruelty spread themselves and flourish, rank as weeds in the tropics; +where a vile wretch, in the shape of a man, rides, walks, or struts about, +dealing blows, and leaving gashes on broken-spirited men and helpless women, +for thirty dollars per month—a business so horrible, hardening and +disgraceful, that, rather, than engage in it, a decent man would blow his own +brains out—and let the reader view with me the equally wicked, but less +repulsive aspects of slave life; where pride and pomp roll luxuriously at ease; +where the toil of a thousand men supports a single family in easy idleness and +sin. This is the great house; it is the home of the LLOYDS! Some idea of its +splendor has already been given—and, it is here that we shall find that +height of luxury which is the opposite of that depth of poverty and physical +wretchedness that we have just now been contemplating. But, there is this +difference in the two extremes; viz: that in the case of the slave, the +miseries and hardships of his lot are imposed by others, and, in the +master’s case, they are imposed by himself. The slave is a subject, +subjected by others; the slaveholder is a subject, but he is the author of his +own subjection. There is more truth in the saying, that slavery is a greater +evil to the master than to the slave, than many, who utter it, suppose. The +self-executing laws of eternal justice follow close on the heels of the +evil-doer here, as well as elsewhere; making escape from all its penalties +impossible. But, let others philosophize; it is my province here to relate and +describe; only allowing myself a word or two, occasionally, to assist the +reader in the proper understanding of the facts narrated. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> +CHAPTER VII. <i>Life in the Great House</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +COMFORTS AND LUXURIES—ELABORATE EXPENDITURE—HOUSE +SERVANTS—MEN SERVANTS AND MAID SERVANTS—APPEARANCES—SLAVE +ARISTOCRACY—STABLE AND CARRIAGE HOUSE—BOUNDLESS +HOSPITALITY—FRAGRANCE OF RICH DISHES—THE DECEPTIVE CHARACTER OF +SLAVERY—SLAVES SEEM HAPPY—SLAVES AND SLAVEHOLDERS ALIKE +WRETCHED—FRETFUL DISCONTENT OF SLAVEHOLDERS—FAULT-FINDING—OLD +BARNEY—HIS PROFESSION—WHIPPING—HUMILIATING +SPECTACLE—CASE EXCEPTIONAL—WILLIAM WILKS—SUPPOSED SON OF COL. +LLOYD—CURIOUS INCIDENT—SLAVES PREFER RICH MASTERS TO POOR ONES. +</p> + +<p> +The close-fisted stinginess that fed the poor slave on coarse corn-meal and +tainted meat; that clothed him in crashy tow-linen, and hurried him to toil +through the field, in all weathers, with wind and rain beating through his +tattered garments; that scarcely gave even the young slave-mother time to nurse +her hungry infant in the fence corner; wholly vanishes on approaching the +sacred precincts of the great house, the home of the Lloyds. There the +scriptural phrase finds an exact illustration; the highly favored inmates of +this mansion are literally arrayed “in purple and fine linen,” and +fare sumptuously every day! The table groans under the heavy and blood-bought +luxuries gathered with painstaking care, at home and abroad. Fields, forests, +rivers and seas, are made tributary here. Immense wealth, and its lavish +expenditure, fill the great house with all that can please the eye, or tempt +the taste. Here, appetite, not food, is the great <i>desideratum</i>. Fish, +flesh and fowl, are here in profusion. Chickens, of all breeds; ducks, of all +kinds, wild and tame, the common, and the huge Muscovite; Guinea fowls, +turkeys, geese, and pea fowls, are in their several pens, fat and fatting for +the destined vortex. The graceful swan, the mongrels, the black-necked wild +goose; partridges, quails, pheasants and pigeons; choice water fowl, with all +their strange varieties, are caught in this huge family net. Beef, veal, mutton +and venison, of the most select kinds and quality, roll bounteously to this +grand consumer. The teeming riches of the Chesapeake bay, its rock, perch, +drums, crocus, trout, oysters, crabs, and terrapin, are drawn hither to adorn +the glittering table of the great house. The dairy, too, probably the finest on +the Eastern Shore of Maryland—supplied by cattle of the best English +stock, imported for the purpose, pours its rich donations of fragant cheese, +golden butter, and delicious cream, to heighten the attraction of the gorgeous, +unending round of feasting. Nor are the fruits of the earth forgotten or +neglected. The fertile garden, many acres in size, constituting a separate +establishment, distinct from the common farm—with its scientific +gardener, imported from Scotland (a Mr. McDermott) with four men under his +direction, was not behind, either in the abundance or in the delicacy of its +contributions to the same full board. The tender asparagus, the succulent +celery, and the delicate cauliflower; egg plants, beets, lettuce, parsnips, +peas, and French beans, early and late; radishes, cantelopes, melons of all +kinds; the fruits and flowers of all climes and of all descriptions, from the +hardy apple of the north, to the lemon and orange of the south, culminated at +this point. Baltimore gathered figs, raisins, almonds and juicy grapes from +Spain. Wines and brandies from France; teas of various flavor, from China; and +rich, aromatic coffee from Java, all conspired to swell the tide of high life, +where pride and indolence rolled and lounged in magnificence and satiety. +</p> + +<p> +Behind the tall-backed and elaborately wrought chairs, stand the servants, men +and maidens—fifteen in number—discriminately selected, not only +with a view to their industry and faithfulness, but with special regard to +their personal appearance, their graceful agility and captivating address. Some +of these are armed with fans, and are fanning reviving breezes toward the +over-heated brows of the alabaster ladies; others watch with eager eye, and +with fawn-like step anticipate and supply wants before they are sufficiently +formed to be announced by word or sign. +</p> + +<p> +These servants constituted a sort of black aristocracy on Col. Lloyd’s +plantation. They resembled the field hands in nothing, except in color, and in +this they held the advantage of a velvet-like glossiness, rich and beautiful. +The hair, too, showed the same advantage. The delicate colored maid rustled in +the scarcely worn silk of her young mistress, while the servant men were +equally well attired from the over-flowing wardrobe of their young masters; so +that, in dress, as well as in form and feature, in manner and speech, in tastes +and habits, the distance between these favored few, and the sorrow and +hunger-smitten multitudes of the quarter and the field, was immense; and this +is seldom passed over. +</p> + +<p> +Let us now glance at the stables and the carriage house, and we shall find the +same evidences of pride and luxurious extravagance. Here are three splendid +coaches, soft within and lustrous without. Here, too, are gigs, phaetons, +barouches, sulkeys and sleighs. Here are saddles and +harnesses—beautifully wrought and silver mounted—kept with every +care. In the stable you will find, kept only for pleasure, full thirty-five +horses, of the most approved blood for speed and beauty. There are two men here +constantly employed in taking care of these horses. One of these men must be +always in the stable, to answer every call from the great house. Over the way +from the stable, is a house built expressly for the hounds—a pack of +twenty-five or thirty—whose fare would have made glad the heart of a +dozen slaves. Horses and hounds are not the only consumers of the slave’s +toil. There was practiced, at the Lloyd’s, a hospitality which would have +astonished and charmed any health-seeking northern divine or merchant, who +might have chanced to share it. Viewed from his own table, and <i>not</i> from +the field, the colonel was a model of generous hospitality. His house was, +literally, a hotel, for weeks during the summer months. At these times, +especially, the air was freighted with the rich fumes of baking, boiling, +roasting and broiling. The odors I shared with the winds; but the meats were +under a more stringent monopoly except that, occasionally, I got a cake from +Mas’ Daniel. In Mas’ Daniel I had a friend at court, from whom I +learned many things which my eager curiosity was excited to know. I always knew +when company was expected, and who they were, although I was an outsider, being +the property, not of Col. Lloyd, but of a servant of the wealthy colonel. On +these occasions, all that pride, taste and money could do, to dazzle and charm, +was done. +</p> + +<p> +Who could say that the servants of Col. Lloyd were not well clad and cared for, +after witnessing one of his magnificent entertainments? Who could say that they +did not seem to glory in being the slaves of such a master? Who, but a fanatic, +could get up any sympathy for persons whose every movement was agile, easy and +graceful, and who evinced a consciousness of high superiority? And who would +ever venture to suspect that Col. Lloyd was subject to the troubles of ordinary +mortals? Master and slave seem alike in their glory here? Can it all be +seeming? Alas! it may only be a sham at last! This immense wealth; this gilded +splendor; this profusion of luxury; this exemption from toil; this life of +ease; this sea of plenty; aye, what of it all? Are the pearly gates of +happiness and sweet content flung open to such suitors? <i>far from it!</i> The +poor slave, on his hard, pine plank, but scantily covered with his thin +blanket, sleeps more soundly than the feverish voluptuary who reclines upon his +feather bed and downy pillow. Food, to the indolent lounger, is poison, not +sustenance. Lurking beneath all their dishes, are invisible spirits of evil, +ready to feed the self-deluded gormandizers which aches, pains, fierce temper, +uncontrolled passions, dyspepsia, rheumatism, lumbago and gout; and of these +the Lloyds got their full share. To the pampered love of ease, there is no +resting place. What is pleasant today, is repulsive tomorrow; what is soft now, +is hard at another time; what is sweet in the morning, is bitter in the +evening. Neither to the wicked, nor to the idler, is there any solid peace: +<i>“Troubled, like the restless sea.”</i> +</p> + +<p> +I had excellent opportunities of witnessing the restless discontent and the +capricious irritation of the Lloyds. My fondness for horses—not peculiar +to me more than to other boys attracted me, much of the time, to the stables. +This establishment was especially under the care of “old” and +“young” Barney—father and son. Old Barney was a fine looking +old man, of a brownish complexion, who was quite portly, and wore a dignified +aspect for a slave. He was, evidently, much devoted to his profession, and held +his office an honorable one. He was a farrier as well as an ostler; he could +bleed, remove lampers from the mouths of the horses, and was well instructed in +horse medicines. No one on the farm knew, so well as Old Barney, what to do +with a sick horse. But his gifts and acquirements were of little advantage to +him. His office was by no means an enviable one. He often got presents, but he +got stripes as well; for in nothing was Col. Lloyd more unreasonable and +exacting, than in respect to the management of his pleasure horses. Any +supposed inattention to these animals were sure to be visited with degrading +punishment. His horses and dogs fared better than his men. Their beds must be +softer and cleaner than those of his human cattle. No excuse could shield Old +Barney, if the colonel only suspected something wrong about his horses; and, +consequently, he was often punished when faultless. It was absolutely painful +to listen to the many unreasonable and fretful scoldings, poured out at the +stable, by Col. Lloyd, his sons and sons-in-law. Of the latter, he had +three—Messrs. Nicholson, Winder and Lownes. These all lived at the great +house a portion of the year, and enjoyed the luxury of whipping the servants +when they pleased, which was by no means unfrequently. A horse was seldom +brought out of the stable to which no objection could be raised. “There +was dust in his hair;” “there was a twist in his reins;” +“his mane did not lie straight;” “he had not been properly +grained;” “his head did not look well;” “his fore-top +was not combed out;” “his fetlocks had not been properly +trimmed;” something was always wrong. Listening to complaints, however +groundless, Barney must stand, hat in hand, lips sealed, never answering a +word. He must make no reply, no explanation; the judgment of the master must be +deemed infallible, for his power is absolute and irresponsible. In a free +state, a master, thus complaining without cause, of his ostler, might be +told—“Sir, I am sorry I cannot please you, but, since I have done +the best I can, your remedy is to dismiss me.” Here, however, the ostler +must stand, listen and tremble. One of the most heart-saddening and humiliating +scenes I ever witnessed, was the whipping of Old Barney, by Col. Lloyd himself. +Here were two men, both advanced in years; there were the silvery locks of Col. +L., and there was the bald and toil-worn brow of Old Barney; master and slave; +superior and inferior here, but <i>equals</i> at the bar of God; and, in the +common course of events, they must both soon meet in another world, in a world +where all distinctions, except those based on obedience and disobedience, are +blotted out forever. “Uncover your head!” said the imperious +master; he was obeyed. “Take off your jacket, you old rascal!” and +off came Barney’s jacket. “Down on your knees!” down knelt +the old man, his shoulders bare, his bald head glistening in the sun, and his +aged knees on the cold, damp ground. In his humble and debasing attitude, the +master—that master to whom he had given the best years and the best +strength of his life—came forward, and laid on thirty lashes, with his +horse whip. The old man bore it patiently, to the last, answering each blow +with a slight shrug of the shoulders, and a groan. I cannot think that Col. +Lloyd succeeded in marring the flesh of Old Barney very seriously, for the whip +was a light, riding whip; but the spectacle of an aged man—a husband and +a father—humbly kneeling before a worm of the dust, surprised and shocked +me at the time; and since I have grown old enough to think on the wickedness of +slavery, few facts have been of more value to me than this, to which I was a +witness. It reveals slavery in its true color, and in its maturity of repulsive +hatefulness. I owe it to truth, however, to say, that this was the first and +the last time I ever saw Old Barney, or any other slave, compelled to kneel to +receive a whipping. +</p> + +<p> +I saw, at the stable, another incident, which I will relate, as it is +illustrative of a phase of slavery to which I have already referred in another +connection. Besides two other coachmen, Col. Lloyd owned one named William, +who, strangely enough, was often called by his surname, Wilks, by white and +colored people on the home plantation. Wilks was a very fine looking man. He +was about as white as anybody on the plantation; and in manliness of form, and +comeliness of features, he bore a very striking resemblance to Mr. Murray +Lloyd. It was whispered, and pretty generally admitted as a fact, that William +Wilks was a son of Col. Lloyd, by a highly favored slave-woman, who was still +on the plantation. There were many reasons for believing this whisper, not only +in William’s appearance, but in the undeniable freedom which he enjoyed +over all others, and his apparent consciousness of being something more than a +slave to his master. It was notorious, too, that William had a deadly enemy in +Murray Lloyd, whom he so much resembled, and that the latter greatly worried +his father with importunities to sell William. Indeed, he gave his father no +rest until he did sell him, to Austin Woldfolk, the great slave-trader at that +time. Before selling him, however, Mr. L. tried what giving William a whipping +would do, toward making things smooth; but this was a failure. It was a +compromise, and defeated itself; for, immediately after the infliction, the +heart-sickened colonel atoned to William for the abuse, by giving him a gold +watch and chain. Another fact, somewhat curious, is, that though sold to the +remorseless <i>Woldfolk</i>, taken in irons to Baltimore and cast into prison, +with a view to being driven to the south, William, by <i>some</i> +means—always a mystery to me—outbid all his purchasers, paid for +himself, <i>and now resides in Baltimore, a</i> FREEMAN. Is there not room to +suspect, that, as the gold watch was presented to atone for the whipping, a +purse of gold was given him by the same hand, with which to effect his +purchase, as an atonement for the indignity involved in selling his own flesh +and blood. All the circumstances of William, on the great house farm, show him +to have occupied a different position from the other slaves, and, certainly, +there is nothing in the supposed hostility of slaveholders to amalgamation, to +forbid the supposition that William Wilks was the son of Edward Lloyd. +<i>Practical</i> amalgamation is common in every neighborhood where I have been +in slavery. +</p> + +<p> +Col. Lloyd was not in the way of knowing much of the real opinions and feelings +of his slaves respecting him. The distance between him and them was far too +great to admit of such knowledge. His slaves were so numerous, that he did not +know them when he saw them. Nor, indeed, did all his slaves know him. In this +respect, he was inconveniently rich. It is reported of him, that, while riding +along the road one day, he met a colored man, and addressed him in the usual +way of speaking to colored people on the public highways of the south: +“Well, boy, who do you belong to?” “To Col. Lloyd,” +replied the slave. “Well, does the colonel treat you well?” +“No, sir,” was the ready reply. “What? does he work you too +hard?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, don’t he give enough to +eat?” “Yes, sir, he gives me enough, such as it is.” The +colonel, after ascertaining where the slave belonged, rode on; the slave also +went on about his business, not dreaming that he had been conversing with his +master. He thought, said and heard nothing more of the matter, until two or +three weeks afterwards. The poor man was then informed by his overseer, that, +for having found fault with his master, he was now to be sold to a Georgia +trader. He was immediately chained and handcuffed; and thus, without a +moment’s warning he was snatched away, and forever sundered from his +family and friends, by a hand more unrelenting than that of death. <i>This</i> +is the penalty of telling the simple truth, in answer to a series of plain +questions. It is partly in consequence of such facts, that slaves, when +inquired of as to their condition and the character of their masters, almost +invariably say they are contented, and that their masters are kind. +Slaveholders have been known to send spies among their slaves, to ascertain, if +possible, their views and feelings in regard to their condition. The frequency +of this had the effect to establish among the slaves the maxim, that a still +tongue makes a wise head. They suppress the truth rather than take the +consequence of telling it, and, in so doing, they prove themselves a part of +the human family. If they have anything to say of their master, it is, +generally, something in his favor, especially when speaking to strangers. I was +frequently asked, while a slave, if I had a kind master, and I do not remember +ever to have given a negative reply. Nor did I, when pursuing this course, +consider myself as uttering what was utterly false; for I always measured the +kindness of my master by the standard of kindness set up by slaveholders around +us. However, slaves are like other people, and imbibe similar prejudices. They +are apt to think <i>their condition</i> better than that of others. Many, under +the influence of this prejudice, think their own masters are better than the +masters of other slaves; and this, too, in some cases, when the very reverse is +true. Indeed, it is not uncommon for slaves even to fall out and quarrel among +themselves about the relative kindness of their masters, contending for the +superior goodness of his own over that of others. At the very same time, they +mutually execrate their masters, when viewed separately. It was so on our +plantation. When Col. Lloyd’s slaves met those of Jacob Jepson, they +seldom parted without a quarrel about their masters; Col. Lloyd’s slaves +contending that he was the richest, and Mr. Jepson’s slaves that he was +the smartest, man of the two. Col. Lloyd’s slaves would boost his ability +to buy and sell Jacob Jepson; Mr. Jepson’s slaves would boast his ability +to whip Col. Lloyd. These quarrels would almost always end in a fight between +the parties; those that beat were supposed to have gained the point at issue. +They seemed to think that the greatness of their masters was transferable to +themselves. To be a SLAVE, was thought to be bad enough; but to be a <i>poor +man’s</i> slave, was deemed a disgrace, indeed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> +CHAPTER VIII. <i>A Chapter of Horrors</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +AUSTIN GORE—A SKETCH OF HIS CHARACTER—OVERSEERS AS A +CLASS—THEIR PECULIAR CHARACTERISTICS—THE MARKED INDIVIDUALITY OF +AUSTIN GORE—HIS SENSE OF DUTY—HOW HE WHIPPED—MURDER OF POOR +DENBY—HOW IT OCCURRED—SENSATION—HOW GORE MADE PEACE WITH COL. +LLOYD—THE MURDER UNPUNISHED—ANOTHER DREADFUL MURDER +NARRATED—NO LAWS FOR THE PROTECTION OF SLAVES CAN BE ENFORCED IN THE +SOUTHERN STATES. +</p> + +<p> +As I have already intimated elsewhere, the slaves on Col. Lloyd’s +plantation, whose hard lot, under Mr. Sevier, the reader has already noticed +and deplored, were not permitted to enjoy the comparatively moderate rule of +Mr. Hopkins. The latter was succeeded by a very different man. The name of the +new overseer was Austin Gore. Upon this individual I would fix particular +attention; for under his rule there was more suffering from violence and +bloodshed than had—according to the older slaves ever been experienced +before on this plantation. I confess, I hardly know how to bring this man fitly +before the reader. He was, it is true, an overseer, and possessed, to a large +extent, the peculiar characteristics of his class; yet, to call him merely an +overseer, would not give the reader a fair notion of the man. I speak of +overseers as a class. They are such. They are as distinct from the slaveholding +gentry of the south, as are the fishwomen of Paris, and the coal-heavers of +London, distinct from other members of society. They constitute a separate +fraternity at the south, not less marked than is the fraternity of Park Lane +bullies in New York. They have been arranged and classified by that great law +of attraction, which determines the spheres and affinities of men; which +ordains, that men, whose malign and brutal propensities predominate over their +moral and intellectual endowments, shall, naturally, fall into those +employments which promise the largest gratification to those predominating +instincts or propensities. The office of overseer takes this raw material of +vulgarity and brutality, and stamps it as a distinct class of southern society. +But, in this class, as in all other classes, there are characters of marked +individuality, even while they bear a general resemblance to the mass. Mr. Gore +was one of those, to whom a general characterization would do no manner of +justice. He was an overseer; but he was something more. With the malign and +tyrannical qualities of an overseer, he combined something of the lawful +master. He had the artfulness and the mean ambition of his class; but he was +wholly free from the disgusting swagger and noisy bravado of his fraternity. +There was an easy air of independence about him; a calm self-possession, and a +sternness of glance, which might well daunt hearts less timid than those of +poor slaves, accustomed from childhood and through life to cower before a +driver’s lash. The home plantation of Col. Lloyd afforded an ample field +for the exercise of the qualifications for overseership, which he possessed in +such an eminent degree. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Gore was one of those overseers, who could torture the slightest word or +look into impudence; he had the nerve, not only to resent, but to punish, +promptly and severely. He never allowed himself to be answered back, by a +slave. In this, he was as lordly and as imperious as Col. Edward Lloyd, +himself; acting always up to the maxim, practically maintained by slaveholders, +that it is better that a dozen slaves suffer under the lash, without fault, +than that the master or the overseer should <i>seem</i> to have been wrong in +the presence of the slave. <i>Everything must be absolute here</i>. Guilty or +not guilty, it is enough to be accused, to be sure of a flogging. The very +presence of this man Gore was painful, and I shunned him as I would have +shunned a rattlesnake. His piercing, black eyes, and sharp, shrill voice, ever +awakened sensations of terror among the slaves. For so young a man (I describe +him as he was, twenty-five or thirty years ago) Mr. Gore was singularly +reserved and grave in the presence of slaves. He indulged in no jokes, said no +funny things, and kept his own counsels. Other overseers, how brutal soever +they might be, were, at times, inclined to gain favor with the slaves, by +indulging a little pleasantry; but Gore was never known to be guilty of any +such weakness. He was always the cold, distant, unapproachable <i>overseer</i> +of Col. Edward Lloyd’s plantation, and needed no higher pleasure than was +involved in a faithful discharge of the duties of his office. When he whipped, +he seemed to do so from a sense of duty, and feared no consequences. What +Hopkins did reluctantly, Gore did with alacrity. There was a stern will, an +iron-like reality, about this Gore, which would have easily made him the chief +of a band of pirates, had his environments been favorable to such a course of +life. All the coolness, savage barbarity and freedom from moral restraint, +which are necessary in the character of a pirate-chief, centered, I think, in +this man Gore. Among many other deeds of shocking cruelty which he perpetrated, +while I was at Mr. Lloyd’s, was the murder of a young colored man, named +Denby. He was sometimes called Bill Denby, or Demby; (I write from sound, and +the sounds on Lloyd’s plantation are not very certain.) I knew him well. +He was a powerful young man, full of animal spirits, and, so far as I know, he +was among the most valuable of Col. Lloyd’s slaves. In something—I +know not what—he offended this Mr. Austin Gore, and, in accordance with +the custom of the latter, he under took to flog him. He gave Denby but few +stripes; the latter broke away from him and plunged into the creek, and, +standing there to the depth of his neck in water, he refused to come out at the +order of the overseer; whereupon, for this refusal, <i>Gore shot him dead!</i> +It is said that Gore gave Denby three calls, telling him that if he did not +obey the last call, he would shoot him. When the third call was given, Denby +stood his ground firmly; and this raised the question, in the minds of the +by-standing slaves—“Will he dare to shoot?” Mr. Gore, without +further parley, and without making any further effort to induce Denby to come +out of the water, raised his gun deliberately to his face, took deadly aim at +his standing victim, and, in an instant, poor Denby was numbered with the dead. +His mangled body sank out of sight, and only his warm, red blood marked the +place where he had stood. +</p> + +<p> +This devilish outrage, this fiendish murder, produced, as it was well +calculated to do, a tremendous sensation. A thrill of horror flashed through +every soul on the plantation, if I may except the guilty wretch who had +committed the hell-black deed. While the slaves generally were panic-struck, +and howling with alarm, the murderer himself was calm and collected, and +appeared as though nothing unusual had happened. The atrocity roused my old +master, and he spoke out, in reprobation of it; but the whole thing proved to +be less than a nine days’ wonder. Both Col. Lloyd and my old master +arraigned Gore for his cruelty in the matter, but this amounted to nothing. His +reply, or explanation—as I remember to have heard it at the time was, +that the extraordinary expedient was demanded by necessity; that Denby had +become unmanageable; that he had set a dangerous example to the other slaves; +and that, without some such prompt measure as that to which he had resorted, +were adopted, there would be an end to all rule and order on the plantation. +That very convenient covert for all manner of cruelty and outrage that cowardly +alarm-cry, that the slaves would <i>“take the place,”</i> was +pleaded, in extenuation of this revolting crime, just as it had been cited in +defense of a thousand similar ones. He argued, that if one slave refused to be +corrected, and was allowed to escape with his life, when he had been told that +he should lose it if he persisted in his course, the other slaves would soon +copy his example; the result of which would be, the freedom of the slaves, and +the enslavement of the whites. I have every reason to believe that Mr. +Gore’s defense, or explanation, was deemed satisfactory—at least to +Col. Lloyd. He was continued in his office on the plantation. His fame as an +overseer went abroad, and his horrid crime was not even submitted to judicial +investigation. The murder was committed in the presence of slaves, and they, of +course, could neither institute a suit, nor testify against the murderer. His +bare word would go further in a court of law, than the united testimony of ten +thousand black witnesses. +</p> + +<p> +All that Mr. Gore had to do, was to make his peace with Col. Lloyd. This done, +and the guilty perpetrator of one of the most foul murders goes unwhipped of +justice, and uncensured by the community in which he lives. Mr. Gore lived in +St. Michael’s, Talbot county, when I left Maryland; if he is still alive +he probably yet resides there; and I have no reason to doubt that he is now as +highly esteemed, and as greatly respected, as though his guilty soul had never +been stained with innocent blood. I am well aware that what I have now written +will by some be branded as false and malicious. It will be denied, not only +that such a thing ever did transpire, as I have now narrated, but that such a +thing could happen in <i>Maryland</i>. I can only say—believe it or +not—that I have said nothing but the literal truth, gainsay it who may. +</p> + +<p> +I speak advisedly when I say this,—that killing a slave, or any colored +person, in Talbot county, Maryland, is not treated as a crime, either by the +courts or the community. Mr. Thomas Lanman, ship carpenter, of St. +Michael’s, killed two slaves, one of whom he butchered with a hatchet, by +knocking his brains out. He used to boast of the commission of the awful and +bloody deed. I have heard him do so, laughingly, saying, among other things, +that he was the only benefactor of his country in the company, and that when +“others would do as much as he had done, we should be relieved of the +d—d niggers.” +</p> + +<p> +As an evidence of the reckless disregard of human life where the life is that +of a slave I may state the notorious fact, that the wife of Mr. Giles Hicks, +who lived but a short distance from Col. Lloyd’s, with her own hands +murdered my wife’s cousin, a young girl between fifteen and sixteen years +of age—mutilating her person in a most shocking manner. The atrocious +woman, in the paroxysm of her wrath, not content with murdering her victim, +literally mangled her face, and broke her breast bone. Wild, however, and +infuriated as she was, she took the precaution to cause the slave-girl to be +buried; but the facts of the case coming abroad, very speedily led to the +disinterment of the remains of the murdered slave-girl. A coroner’s jury +was assembled, who decided that the girl had come to her death by severe +beating. It was ascertained that the offense for which this girl was thus +hurried out of the world, was this: she had been set that night, and several +preceding nights, to mind Mrs. Hicks’s baby, and having fallen into a +sound sleep, the baby cried, waking Mrs. Hicks, but not the slave-girl. Mrs. +Hicks, becoming infuriated at the girl’s tardiness, after calling several +times, jumped from her bed and seized a piece of fire-wood from the fireplace; +and then, as she lay fast asleep, she deliberately pounded in her skull and +breast-bone, and thus ended her life. I will not say that this most horrid +murder produced no sensation in the community. It <i>did</i> produce a +sensation; but, incredible to tell, the moral sense of the community was +blunted too entirely by the ordinary nature of slavery horrors, to bring the +murderess to punishment. A warrant was issued for her arrest, but, for some +reason or other, that warrant was never served. Thus did Mrs. Hicks not only +escape condign punishment, but even the pain and mortification of being +arraigned before a court of justice. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst I am detailing the bloody deeds that took place during my stay on Col. +Lloyd’s plantation, I will briefly narrate another dark transaction, +which occurred about the same time as the murder of Denby by Mr. Gore. +</p> + +<p> +On the side of the river Wye, opposite from Col. Lloyd’s, there lived a +Mr. Beal Bondley, a wealthy slaveholder. In the direction of his land, and near +the shore, there was an excellent oyster fishing ground, and to this, some of +the slaves of Col. Lloyd occasionally resorted in their little canoes, at +night, with a view to make up the deficiency of their scanty allowance of food, +by the oysters that they could easily get there. This, Mr. Bondley took it into +his head to regard as a trespass, and while an old man belonging to Col. Lloyd +was engaged in catching a few of the many millions of oysters that lined the +bottom of that creek, to satisfy his hunger, the villainous Mr. Bondley, lying +in ambush, without the slightest ceremony, discharged the contents of his +musket into the back and shoulders of the poor old man. As good fortune would +have it, the shot did not prove mortal, and Mr. Bondley came over, the next +day, to see Col. Lloyd—whether to pay him for his property, or to justify +himself for what he had done, I know not; but this I <i>can</i> say, the cruel +and dastardly transaction was speedily hushed up; there was very little said +about it at all, and nothing was publicly done which looked like the +application of the principle of justice to the man whom <i>chance</i>, only, +saved from being an actual murderer. One of the commonest sayings to which my +ears early became accustomed, on Col. Lloyd’s plantation and elsewhere in +Maryland, was, that it was <i>“worth but half a cent to kill a nigger, +and a half a cent to bury him;”</i> and the facts of my experience go far +to justify the practical truth of this strange proverb. Laws for the protection +of the lives of the slaves, are, as they must needs be, utterly incapable of +being enforced, where the very parties who are nominally protected, are not +permitted to give evidence, in courts of law, against the only class of persons +from whom abuse, outrage and murder might be reasonably apprehended. While I +heard of numerous murders committed by slaveholders on the Eastern Shores of +Maryland, I never knew a solitary instance in which a slaveholder was either +hung or imprisoned for having murdered a slave. The usual pretext for killing a +slave is, that the slave has offered resistance. Should a slave, when +assaulted, but raise his hand in self defense, the white assaulting party is +fully justified by southern, or Maryland, public opinion, in shooting the slave +down. Sometimes this is done, simply because it is alleged that the slave has +been saucy. But here I leave this phase of the society of my early childhood, +and will relieve the kind reader of these heart-sickening details. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> +CHAPTER IX. <i>Personal Treatment</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +MISS LUCRETIA—HER KINDNESS—HOW IT WAS +MANIFESTED—“IKE”—A BATTLE WITH HIM—THE +CONSEQUENCES THEREOF—MISS LUCRETIA’S BALSAM—BREAD—HOW I +OBTAINED IT—BEAMS OF SUNLIGHT AMIDST THE GENERAL DARKNESS—SUFFERING +FROM COLD—HOW WE TOOK OUR MEALS—ORDERS TO PREPARE FOR +BALTIMORE—OVERJOYED AT THE THOUGHT OF QUITTING THE +PLANTATION—EXTRAORDINARY CLEANSING—COUSIN TOM’S VERSION OF +BALTIMORE—ARRIVAL THERE—KIND RECEPTION GIVEN ME BY MRS. SOPHIA +AULD—LITTLE TOMMY—MY NEW POSITION—MY NEW DUTIES—A +TURNING POINT IN MY HISTORY. +</p> + +<p> +I have nothing cruel or shocking to relate of my own personal experience, while +I remained on Col. Lloyd’s plantation, at the home of my old master. An +occasional cuff from Aunt Katy, and a regular whipping from old master, such as +any heedless and mischievous boy might get from his father, is all that I can +mention of this sort. I was not old enough to work in the field, and, there +being little else than field work to perform, I had much leisure. The most I +had to do, was, to drive up the cows in the evening, to keep the front yard +clean, and to perform small errands for my young mistress, Lucretia Auld. I +have reasons for thinking this lady was very kindly disposed toward me, and, +although I was not often the object of her attention, I constantly regarded her +as my friend, and was always glad when it was my privilege to do her a service. +In a family where there was so much that was harsh, cold and indifferent, the +slightest word or look of kindness passed, with me, for its full value. Miss +Lucretia—as we all continued to call her long after her +marriage—had bestowed upon me such words and looks as taught me that she +pitied me, if she did not love me. In addition to words and looks, she +sometimes gave me a piece of bread and butter; a thing not set down in the bill +of fare, and which must have been an extra ration, planned aside from either +Aunt Katy or old master, solely out of the tender regard and friendship she had +for me. Then, too, I one day got into the wars with Uncle Able’s son, +“Ike,” and had got sadly worsted; in fact, the little rascal had +struck me directly in the forehead with a sharp piece of cinder, fused with +iron, from the old blacksmith’s forge, which made a cross in my forehead +very plainly to be seen now. The gash bled very freely, and I roared very +loudly and betook myself home. The coldhearted Aunt Katy paid no attention +either to my wound or my roaring, except to tell me it served me right; I had +no business with Ike; it was good for me; I would now keep away <i>“from +dem Lloyd niggers.”</i> Miss Lucretia, in this state of the case, came +forward; and, in quite a different spirit from that manifested by Aunt Katy, +she called me into the parlor (an extra privilege of itself) and, without using +toward me any of the hard-hearted and reproachful epithets of my kitchen +tormentor, she quietly acted the good Samaritan. With her own soft hand she +washed the blood from my head and face, fetched her own balsam bottle, and with +the balsam wetted a nice piece of white linen, and bound up my head. The balsam +was not more healing to the wound in my head, than her kindness was healing to +the wounds in my spirit, made by the unfeeling words of Aunt Katy. After this, +Miss Lucretia was my friend. I felt her to be such; and I have no doubt that +the simple act of binding up my head, did much to awaken in her mind an +interest in my welfare. It is quite true, that this interest was never very +marked, and it seldom showed itself in anything more than in giving me a piece +of bread when I was hungry; but this was a great favor on a slave plantation, +and I was the only one of the children to whom such attention was paid. When +very hungry, I would go into the back yard and play under Miss Lucretia’s +window. When pretty severely pinched by hunger, I had a habit of singing, which +the good lady very soon came to understand as a petition for a piece of bread. +When I sung under Miss Lucretia’s window, I was very apt to get well paid +for my music. The reader will see that I now had two friends, both at important +points—Mas’ Daniel at the great house, and Miss Lucretia at home. +From Mas’ Daniel I got protection from the bigger boys; and from Miss +Lucretia I got bread, by singing when I was hungry, and sympathy when I was +abused by that termagant, who had the reins of government in the kitchen. For +such friendship I felt deeply grateful, and bitter as are my recollections of +slavery, I love to recall any instances of kindness, any sunbeams of humane +treatment, which found way to my soul through the iron grating of my house of +bondage. Such beams seem all the brighter from the general darkness into which +they penetrate, and the impression they make is vividly distinct and beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +As I have before intimated, I was seldom whipped—and never +severely—by my old master. I suffered little from the treatment I +received, except from hunger and cold. These were my two great physical +troubles. I could neither get a sufficiency of food nor of clothing; but I +suffered less from hunger than from cold. In hottest summer and coldest winter, +I was kept almost in a state of nudity; no shoes, no stockings, no jacket, no +trowsers; nothing but coarse sackcloth or tow-linen, made into a sort of shirt, +reaching down to my knees. This I wore night and day, changing it once a week. +In the day time I could protect myself pretty well, by keeping on the sunny +side of the house; and in bad weather, in the corner of the kitchen chimney. +The great difficulty was, to keep warm during the night. I had no bed. The pigs +in the pen had leaves, and the horses in the stable had straw, but the children +had no beds. They lodged anywhere in the ample kitchen. I slept, generally, in +a little closet, without even a blanket to cover me. In very cold weather. I +sometimes got down the bag in which corn-meal was usually carried to the mill, +and crawled into that. Sleeping there, with my head in and feet out, I was +partly protected, though not comfortable. My feet have been so cracked with the +frost, that the pen with which I am writing might be laid in the gashes. The +manner of taking our meals at old master’s, indicated but little +refinement. Our corn-meal mush, when sufficiently cooled, was placed in a large +wooden tray, or trough, like those used in making maple sugar here in the +north. This tray was set down, either on the floor of the kitchen, or out of +doors on the ground; and the children were called, like so many pigs; and like +so many pigs they would come, and literally devour the mush—some with +oyster shells, some with pieces of shingles, and none with spoons. He that eat +fastest got most, and he that was strongest got the best place; and few left +the trough really satisfied. I was the most unlucky of any, for Aunt Katy had +no good feeling for me; and if I pushed any of the other children, or if they +told her anything unfavorable of me, she always believed the worst, and was +sure to whip me. +</p> + +<p> +As I grew older and more thoughtful, I was more and more filled with a sense of +my wretchedness. The cruelty of Aunt Katy, the hunger and cold I suffered, and +the terrible reports of wrong and outrage which came to my ear, together with +what I almost daily witnessed, led me, when yet but eight or nine years old, to +wish I had never been born. I used to contrast my condition with the +black-birds, in whose wild and sweet songs I fancied them so happy! Their +apparent joy only deepened the shades of my sorrow. There are thoughtful days +in the lives of children—at least there were in mine when they grapple +with all the great, primary subjects of knowledge, and reach, in a moment, +conclusions which no subsequent experience can shake. I was just as well aware +of the unjust, unnatural and murderous character of slavery, when nine years +old, as I am now. Without any appeal to books, to laws, or to authorities of +any kind, it was enough to accept God as a father, to regard slavery as a +crime. +</p> + +<p> +I was not ten years old when I left Col. Lloyd’s plantation for +Balitmore(sic). I left that plantation with inexpressible joy. I never shall +forget the ecstacy with which I received the intelligence from my friend, Miss +Lucretia, that my old master had determined to let me go to Baltimore to live +with Mr. Hugh Auld, a brother to Mr. Thomas Auld, my old master’s +son-in-law. I received this information about three days before my departure. +They were three of the happiest days of my childhood. I spent the largest part +of these three days in the creek, washing off the plantation scurf, and +preparing for my new home. Mrs. Lucretia took a lively interest in getting me +ready. She told me I must get all the dead skin off my feet and knees, before I +could go to Baltimore, for the people there were very cleanly, and would laugh +at me if I looked dirty; and, besides, she was intending to give me a pair of +trowsers, which I should not put on unless I got all the dirt off. This was a +warning to which I was bound to take heed; for the thought of owning a pair of +trowsers, was great, indeed. It was almost a sufficient motive, not only to +induce me to scrub off the <i>mange</i> (as pig drovers would call it) but the +skin as well. So I went at it in good earnest, working for the first time in +the hope of reward. I was greatly excited, and could hardly consent to sleep, +lest I should be left. The ties that, ordinarily, bind children to their homes, +were all severed, or they never had any existence in my case, at least so far +as the home plantation of Col. L. was concerned. I therefore found no severe +trail at the moment of my departure, such as I had experienced when separated +from my home in Tuckahoe. My home at my old master’s was charmless to me; +it was not home, but a prison to me; on parting from it, I could not feel that +I was leaving anything which I could have enjoyed by staying. My mother was now +long dead; my grandmother was far away, so that I seldom saw her; Aunt Katy was +my unrelenting tormentor; and my two sisters and brothers, owing to our early +separation in life, and the family-destroying power of slavery, were, +comparatively, strangers to me. The fact of our relationship was almost blotted +out. I looked for <i>home</i> elsewhere, and was confident of finding none +which I should relish less than the one I was leaving. If, however, I found in +my new home to which I was going with such blissful +anticipations—hardship, whipping and nakedness, I had the questionable +consolation that I should not have escaped any one of these evils by remaining +under the management of Aunt Katy. Then, too, I thought, since I had endured +much in this line on Lloyd’s plantation, I could endure as much +elsewhere, and especially at Baltimore; for I had something of the feeling +about that city which is expressed in the saying, that being “hanged in +England, is better than dying a natural death in Ireland.” I had the +strongest desire to see Baltimore. My cousin Tom—a boy two or three years +older than I—had been there, and though not fluent (he stuttered +immoderately) in speech, he had inspired me with that desire, by his eloquent +description of the place. Tom was, sometimes, Capt. Auld’s cabin boy; and +when he came from Baltimore, he was always a sort of hero amongst us, at least +till his Baltimore trip was forgotten. I could never tell him of anything, or +point out anything that struck me as beautiful or powerful, but that he had +seen something in Baltimore far surpassing it. Even the great house itself, +with all its pictures within, and pillars without, he had the hardihood to say +“was nothing to Baltimore.” He bought a trumpet (worth six pence) +and brought it home; told what he had seen in the windows of stores; that he +had heard shooting crackers, and seen soldiers; that he had seen a steamboat; +that there were ships in Baltimore that could carry four such sloops as the +“Sally Lloyd.” He said a great deal about the market-house; he +spoke of the bells ringing; and of many other things which roused my curiosity +very much; and, indeed, which heightened my hopes of happiness in my new home. +</p> + +<p> +We sailed out of Miles river for Baltimore early on a Saturday morning. I +remember only the day of the week; for, at that time, I had no knowledge of the +days of the month, nor, indeed, of the months of the year. On setting sail, I +walked aft, and gave to Col. Lloyd’s plantation what I hoped would be the +last look I should ever give to it, or to any place like it. My strong aversion +to the great farm, was not owing to my own personal suffering, but the daily +suffering of others, and to the certainty that I must, sooner or later, be +placed under the barbarous rule of an overseer, such as the accomplished Gore, +or the brutal and drunken Plummer. After taking this last view, I quitted the +quarter deck, made my way to the bow of the sloop, and spent the remainder of +the day in looking ahead; interesting myself in what was in the distance, +rather than what was near by or behind. The vessels, sweeping along the bay, +were very interesting objects. The broad bay opened like a shoreless ocean on +my boyish vision, filling me with wonder and admiration. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the afternoon, we reached Annapolis, the capital of the state, stopping +there not long enough to admit of my going ashore. It was the first large town +I had ever seen; and though it was inferior to many a factory village in New +England, my feelings, on seeing it, were excited to a pitch very little below +that reached by travelers at the first view of Rome. The dome of the state +house was especially imposing, and surpassed in grandeur the appearance of the +great house. The great world was opening upon me very rapidly, and I was +eagerly acquainting myself with its multifarious lessons. +</p> + +<p> +We arrived in Baltimore on Sunday morning, and landed at Smith’s wharf, +not far from Bowly’s wharf. We had on board the sloop a large flock of +sheep, for the Baltimore market; and, after assisting in driving them to the +slaughter house of Mr. Curtis, on Loudon Slater’s Hill, I was speedily +conducted by Rich—one of the hands belonging to the sloop—to my new +home in Alliciana street, near Gardiner’s ship-yard, on Fell’s +Point. Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Auld, my new mistress and master, were both at home, +and met me at the door with their rosy cheeked little son, Thomas, to take care +of whom was to constitute my future occupation. In fact, it was to +“little Tommy,” rather than to his parents, that old master made a +present of me; and though there was no <i>legal</i> form or arrangement entered +into, I have no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Auld felt that, in due time, I should +be the legal property of their bright-eyed and beloved boy, Tommy. I was struck +with the appearance, especially, of my new mistress. Her face was lighted with +the kindliest emotions; and the reflex influence of her countenance, as well as +the tenderness with which she seemed to regard me, while asking me sundry +little questions, greatly delighted me, and lit up, to my fancy, the pathway of +my future. Miss Lucretia was kind; but my new mistress, “Miss +Sophy,” surpassed her in kindness of manner. Little Thomas was +affectionately told by his mother, that <i>“there was his +Freddy,”</i> and that “Freddy would take care of him;” and I +was told to “be kind to little Tommy”—an injunction I +scarcely needed, for I had already fallen in love with the dear boy; and with +these little ceremonies I was initiated into my new home, and entered upon my +peculiar duties, with not a cloud above the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +I may say here, that I regard my removal from Col. Lloyd’s plantation as +one of the most interesting and fortunate events of my life. Viewing it in the +light of human likelihoods, it is quite probable that, but for the mere +circumstance of being thus removed before the rigors of slavery had fastened +upon me; before my young spirit had been crushed under the iron control of the +slave-driver, instead of being, today, a FREEMAN, I might have been wearing the +galling chains of slavery. I have sometimes felt, however, that there was +something more intelligent than <i>chance</i>, and something more certain than +<i>luck</i>, to be seen in the circumstance. If I have made any progress in +knowledge; if I have cherished any honorable aspirations, or have, in any +manner, worthily discharged the duties of a member of an oppressed people; this +little circumstance must be allowed its due weight in giving my life that +direction. I have ever regarded it as the first plain manifestation of that +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Divinity that shapes our ends,<br/> +Rough hew them as we will. +</p> + +<p> +I was not the only boy on the plantation that might have been sent to live in +Baltimore. There was a wide margin from which to select. There were boys +younger, boys older, and boys of the same age, belonging to my old master some +at his own house, and some at his farm—but the high privilege fell to my +lot. +</p> + +<p> +I may be deemed superstitious and egotistical, in regarding this event as a +special interposition of Divine Providence in my favor; but the thought is a +part of my history, and I should be false to the earliest and most cherished +sentiments of my soul, if I suppressed, or hesitated to avow that opinion, +although it may be characterized as irrational by the wise, and ridiculous by +the scoffer. From my earliest recollections of serious matters, I date the +entertainment of something like an ineffaceable conviction, that slavery would +not always be able to hold me within its foul embrace; and this conviction, +like a word of living faith, strengthened me through the darkest trials of my +lot. This good spirit was from God; and to him I offer thanksgiving and praise. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> +CHAPTER X. <i>Life in Baltimore</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +CITY ANNOYANCES—PLANTATION REGRETS—MY MISTRESS, MISS +SOPHA—HER HISTORY—HER KINDNESS TO ME—MY MASTER, HUGH +AULD—HIS SOURNESS—MY INCREASED SENSITIVENESS—MY +COMFORTS—MY OCCUPATION—THE BANEFUL EFFECTS OF SLAVEHOLDING ON MY +DEAR AND GOOD MISTRESS—HOW SHE COMMENCED TEACHING ME TO READ—WHY +SHE CEASED TEACHING ME—CLOUDS GATHERING OVER MY BRIGHT +PROSPECTS—MASTER AULD’S EXPOSITION OF THE TRUE PHILOSOPHY OF +SLAVERY—CITY SLAVES—PLANTATION SLAVES—THE +CONTRAST—EXCEPTIONS—MR. HAMILTON’S TWO SLAVES, HENRIETTA AND +MARY—MRS. HAMILTON’S CRUEL TREATMENT OF THEM—THE PITEOUS +ASPECT THEY PRESENTED—NO POWER MUST COME BETWEEN THE SLAVE AND THE +SLAVEHOLDER. +</p> + +<p> +Once in Baltimore, with hard brick pavements under my feet, which almost raised +blisters, by their very heat, for it was in the height of summer; walled in on +all sides by towering brick buildings; with troops of hostile boys ready to +pounce upon me at every street corner; with new and strange objects glaring +upon me at every step, and with startling sounds reaching my ears from all +directions, I for a time thought that, after all, the home plantation was a +more desirable place of residence than my home on Alliciana street, in +Baltimore. My country eyes and ears were confused and bewildered here; but the +boys were my chief trouble. They chased me, and called me <i>“Eastern +Shore man,”</i> till really I almost wished myself back on the Eastern +Shore. I had to undergo a sort of moral acclimation, and when that was over, I +did much better. My new mistress happily proved to be all she <i>seemed</i> to +be, when, with her husband, she met me at the door, with a most beaming, +benignant countenance. She was, naturally, of an excellent disposition, kind, +gentle and cheerful. The supercilious contempt for the rights and feelings of +the slave, and the petulance and bad humor which generally characterize +slaveholding ladies, were all quite absent from kind “Miss” +Sophia’s manner and bearing toward me. She had, in truth, never been a +slaveholder, but had—a thing quite unusual in the south—depended +almost entirely upon her own industry for a living. To this fact the dear lady, +no doubt, owed the excellent preservation of her natural goodness of heart, for +slavery can change a saint into a sinner, and an angel into a demon. I hardly +knew how to behave toward “Miss Sopha,” as I used to call Mrs. Hugh +Auld. I had been treated as a <i>pig</i> on the plantation; I was treated as a +<i>child</i> now. I could not even approach her as I had formerly approached +Mrs. Thomas Auld. How could I hang down my head, and speak with bated breath, +when there was no pride to scorn me, no coldness to repel me, and no hatred to +inspire me with fear? I therefore soon learned to regard her as something more +akin to a mother, than a slaveholding mistress. The crouching servility of a +slave, usually so acceptable a quality to the haughty slaveholder, was not +understood nor desired by this gentle woman. So far from deeming it impudent in +a slave to look her straight in the face, as some slaveholding ladies do, she +seemed ever to say, “look up, child; don’t be afraid; see, I am +full of kindness and good will toward you.” The hands belonging to Col. +Lloyd’s sloop, esteemed it a great privilege to be the bearers of parcels +or messages to my new mistress; for whenever they came, they were sure of a +most kind and pleasant reception. If little Thomas was her son, and her most +dearly beloved child, she, for a time, at least, made me something like his +half-brother in her affections. If dear Tommy was exalted to a place on his +mother’s knee, “Feddy” was honored by a place at his +mother’s side. Nor did he lack the caressing strokes of her gentle hand, +to convince him that, though <i>motherless</i>, he was not <i>friendless</i>. +Mrs. Auld was not only a kind-hearted woman, but she was remarkably pious; +frequent in her attendance of public worship, much given to reading the bible, +and to chanting hymns of praise, when alone. Mr. Hugh Auld was altogether a +different character. He cared very little about religion, knew more of the +world, and was more of the world, than his wife. He set out, doubtless to +be—as the world goes—a respectable man, and to get on by becoming a +successful ship builder, in that city of ship building. This was his ambition, +and it fully occupied him. I was, of course, of very little consequence to him, +compared with what I was to good Mrs. Auld; and, when he smiled upon me, as he +sometimes did, the smile was borrowed from his lovely wife, and, like all +borrowed light, was transient, and vanished with the source whence it was +derived. While I must characterize Master Hugh as being a very sour man, and of +forbidding appearance, it is due to him to acknowledge, that he was never very +cruel to me, according to the notion of cruelty in Maryland. The first year or +two which I spent in his house, he left me almost exclusively to the management +of his wife. She was my law-giver. In hands so tender as hers, and in the +absence of the cruelties of the plantation, I became, both physically and +mentally, much more sensitive to good and ill treatment; and, perhaps, suffered +more from a frown from my mistress, than I formerly did from a cuff at the +hands of Aunt Katy. Instead of the cold, damp floor of my old master’s +kitchen, I found myself on carpets; for the corn bag in winter, I now had a +good straw bed, well furnished with covers; for the coarse corn-meal in the +morning, I now had good bread, and mush occasionally; for my poor tow-lien +shirt, reaching to my knees, I had good, clean clothes. I was really well off. +My employment was to run errands, and to take care of Tommy; to prevent his +getting in the way of carriages, and to keep him out of harm’s way +generally. Tommy, and I, and his mother, got on swimmingly together, for a +time. I say <i>for a time</i>, because the fatal poison of irresponsible power, +and the natural influence of slavery customs, were not long in making a +suitable impression on the gentle and loving disposition of my excellent +mistress. At first, Mrs. Auld evidently regarded me simply as a child, like any +other child; she had not come to regard me as <i>property</i>. This latter +thought was a thing of conventional growth. The first was natural and +spontaneous. A noble nature, like hers, could not, instantly, be wholly +perverted; and it took several years to change the natural sweetness of her +temper into fretful bitterness. In her worst estate, however, there were, +during the first seven years I lived with her, occasional returns of her former +kindly disposition. +</p> + +<p> +The frequent hearing of my mistress reading the bible for she often read aloud +when her husband was absent soon awakened my curiosity in respect to this +<i>mystery</i> of reading, and roused in me the desire to learn. Having no fear +of my kind mistress before my eyes, (she had then given me no reason to fear,) +I frankly asked her to teach me to read; and, without hesitation, the dear +woman began the task, and very soon, by her assistance, I was master of the +alphabet, and could spell words of three or four letters. My mistress seemed +almost as proud of my progress, as if I had been her own child; and, supposing +that her husband would be as well pleased, she made no secret of what she was +doing for me. Indeed, she exultingly told him of the aptness of her pupil, of +her intention to persevere in teaching me, and of the duty which she felt it to +teach me, at least to read <i>the bible</i>. Here arose the first cloud over my +Baltimore prospects, the precursor of drenching rains and chilling blasts. +</p> + +<p> +Master Hugh was amazed at the simplicity of his spouse, and, probably for the +first time, he unfolded to her the true philosophy of slavery, and the peculiar +rules necessary to be observed by masters and mistresses, in the management of +their human chattels. Mr. Auld promptly forbade continuance of her instruction; +telling her, in the first place, that the thing itself was unlawful; that it +was also unsafe, and could only lead to mischief. To use his own words, +further, he said, “if you give a nigger an inch, he will take an +ell;” “he should know nothing but the will of his master, and learn +to obey it.” “if you teach that nigger—speaking of +myself—how to read the bible, there will be no keeping him;” +“it would forever unfit him for the duties of a slave;” and +“as to himself, learning would do him no good, but probably, a great deal +of harm—making him disconsolate and unhappy.” “If you learn +him now to read, he’ll want to know how to write; and, this accomplished, +he’ll be running away with himself.” Such was the tenor of Master +Hugh’s oracular exposition of the true philosophy of training a human +chattel; and it must be confessed that he very clearly comprehended the nature +and the requirements of the relation of master and slave. His discourse was the +first decidedly anti-slavery lecture to which it had been my lot to listen. +Mrs. Auld evidently felt the force of his remarks; and, like an obedient wife, +began to shape her course in the direction indicated by her husband. The effect +of his words, <i>on me</i>, was neither slight nor transitory. His iron +sentences—cold and harsh—sunk deep into my heart, and stirred up +not only my feelings into a sort of rebellion, but awakened within me a +slumbering train of vital thought. It was a new and special revelation, +dispelling a painful mystery, against which my youthful understanding had +struggled, and struggled in vain, to wit: the <i>white</i> man’s power to +perpetuate the enslavement of the <i>black</i> man. “Very well,” +thought I; “knowledge unfits a child to be a slave.” I +instinctively assented to the proposition; and from that moment I understood +the direct pathway from slavery to freedom. This was just what I needed; and I +got it at a time, and from a source, whence I least expected it. I was saddened +at the thought of losing the assistance of my kind mistress; but the +information, so instantly derived, to some extent compensated me for the loss I +had sustained in this direction. Wise as Mr. Auld was, he evidently underrated +my comprehension, and had little idea of the use to which I was capable of +putting the impressive lesson he was giving to his wife. <i>He</i> wanted me to +be <i>a slave;</i> I had already voted against that on the home plantation of +Col. Lloyd. That which he most loved I most hated; and the very determination +which he expressed to keep me in ignorance, only rendered me the more resolute +in seeking intelligence. In learning to read, therefore, I am not sure that I +do not owe quite as much to the opposition of my master, as to the kindly +assistance of my amiable mistress. I acknowledge the benefit rendered me by the +one, and by the other; believing, that but for my mistress, I might have grown +up in ignorance. +</p> + +<p> +I had resided but a short time in Baltimore, before I observed a marked +difference in the manner of treating slaves, generally, from which I had +witnessed in that isolated and out-of-the-way part of the country where I began +life. A city slave is almost a free citizen, in Baltimore, compared with a +slave on Col. Lloyd’s plantation. He is much better fed and clothed, is +less dejected in his appearance, and enjoys privileges altogether unknown to +the whip-driven slave on the plantation. Slavery dislikes a dense population, +in which there is a majority of non-slaveholders. The general sense of decency +that must pervade such a population, does much to check and prevent those +outbreaks of atrocious cruelty, and those dark crimes without a name, almost +openly perpetrated on the plantation. He is a desperate slaveholder who will +shock the humanity of his non-slaveholding neighbors, by the cries of the +lacerated slaves; and very few in the city are willing to incur the odium of +being cruel masters. I found, in Baltimore, that no man was more odious to the +white, as well as to the colored people, than he, who had the reputation of +starving his slaves. Work them, flog them, if need be, but don’t starve +them. These are, however, some painful exceptions to this rule. While it is +quite true that most of the slaveholders in Baltimore feed and clothe their +slaves well, there are others who keep up their country cruelties in the city. +</p> + +<p> +An instance of this sort is furnished in the case of a family who lived +directly opposite to our house, and were named Hamilton. Mrs. Hamilton owned +two slaves. Their names were Henrietta and Mary. They had always been house +slaves. One was aged about twenty-two, and the other about fourteen. They were +a fragile couple by nature, and the treatment they received was enough to break +down the constitution of a horse. Of all the dejected, emaciated, mangled and +excoriated creatures I ever saw, those two girls—in the refined, church +going and Christian city of Baltimore were the most deplorable. Of stone must +that heart be made, that could look upon Henrietta and Mary, without being +sickened to the core with sadness. Especially was Mary a heart-sickening +object. Her head, neck and shoulders, were literally cut to pieces. I have +frequently felt her head, and found it nearly covered over with festering +sores, caused by the lash of her cruel mistress. I do not know that her master +ever whipped her, but I have often been an eye witness of the revolting and +brutal inflictions by Mrs. Hamilton; and what lends a deeper shade to this +woman’s conduct, is the fact, that, almost in the very moments of her +shocking outrages of humanity and decency, she would charm you by the sweetness +of her voice and her seeming piety. She used to sit in a large rocking chair, +near the middle of the room, with a heavy cowskin, such as I have elsewhere +described; and I speak within the truth when I say, that these girls seldom +passed that chair, during the day, without a blow from that cowskin, either +upon their bare arms, or upon their shoulders. As they passed her, she would +draw her cowskin and give them a blow, saying, <i>“move faster, you black +jip!”</i> and, again, <i>“take that, you black jip!”</i> +continuing, <i>“if you don’t move faster, I will give you +more.”</i> Then the lady would go on, singing her sweet hymns, as though +her <i>righteous</i> soul were sighing for the holy realms of paradise. +</p> + +<p> +Added to the cruel lashings to which these poor slave-girls were +subjected—enough in themselves to crush the spirit of men—they +were, really, kept nearly half starved; they seldom knew what it was to eat a +full meal, except when they got it in the kitchens of neighbors, less mean and +stingy than the psalm-singing Mrs. Hamilton. I have seen poor Mary contending +for the offal, with the pigs in the street. So much was the poor girl pinched, +kicked, cut and pecked to pieces, that the boys in the street knew her only by +the name of <i>“pecked,”</i> a name derived from the scars and +blotches on her neck, head and shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +It is some relief to this picture of slavery in Baltimore, to say—what is +but the simple truth—that Mrs. Hamilton’s treatment of her slaves +was generally condemned, as disgraceful and shocking; but while I say this, it +must also be remembered, that the very parties who censured the cruelty of Mrs. +Hamilton, would have condemned and promptly punished any attempt to interfere +with Mrs. Hamilton’s <i>right</i> to cut and slash her slaves to pieces. +There must be no force between the slave and the slaveholder, to restrain the +power of the one, and protect the weakness of the other; and the cruelty of +Mrs. Hamilton is as justly chargeable to the upholders of the slave system, as +drunkenness is chargeable on those who, by precept and example, or by +indifference, uphold the drinking system. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> +CHAPTER XI. <i>“A Change Came O’er the Spirit of My +Dream”</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +HOW I LEARNED TO READ—MY MISTRESS—HER SLAVEHOLDING +DUTIES—THEIR DEPLORABLE EFFECTS UPON HER ORIGINALLY NOBLE +NATURE—THE CONFLICT IN HER MIND—HER FINAL OPPOSITION TO MY LEARNING +TO READ—TOO LATE—SHE HAD GIVEN ME THE INCH, I WAS RESOLVED TO TAKE +THE ELL—HOW I PURSUED MY EDUCATION—MY TUTORS—HOW I +COMPENSATED THEM—WHAT PROGRESS I MADE—SLAVERY—WHAT I HEARD +SAID ABOUT IT—THIRTEEN YEARS OLD—THE <i>Columbian +Orator</i>—A RICH SCENE—A DIALOGUE—SPEECHES OF CHATHAM, +SHERIDAN, PITT AND FOX—KNOWLEDGE EVER INCREASING—MY EYES +OPENED—LIBERTY—HOW I PINED FOR IT—MY SADNESS—THE +DISSATISFACTION OF MY POOR MISTRESS—MY HATRED OF SLAVERY—ONE UPAS +TREE OVERSHADOWED US BOTH. +</p> + +<p> +I lived in the family of Master Hugh, at Baltimore, seven years, during which +time—as the almanac makers say of the weather—my condition was +variable. The most interesting feature of my history here, was my learning to +read and write, under somewhat marked disadvantages. In attaining this +knowledge, I was compelled to resort to indirections by no means congenial to +my nature, and which were really humiliating to me. My mistress—who, as +the reader has already seen, had begun to teach me was suddenly checked in her +benevolent design, by the strong advice of her husband. In faithful compliance +with this advice, the good lady had not only ceased to instruct me, herself, +but had set her face as a flint against my learning to read by any means. It is +due, however, to my mistress to say, that she did not adopt this course in all +its stringency at the first. She either thought it unnecessary, or she lacked +the depravity indispensable to shutting me up in mental darkness. It was, at +least, necessary for her to have some training, and some hardening, in the +exercise of the slaveholder’s prerogative, to make her equal to +forgetting my human nature and character, and to treating me as a thing +destitute of a moral or an intellectual nature. Mrs. Auld—my +mistress—was, as I have said, a most kind and tender-hearted woman; and, +in the humanity of her heart, and the simplicity of her mind, she set out, when +I first went to live with her, to treat me as she supposed one human being +ought to treat another. +</p> + +<p> +It is easy to see, that, in entering upon the duties of a slaveholder, some +little experience is needed. Nature has done almost nothing to prepare men and +women to be either slaves or slaveholders. Nothing but rigid training, long +persisted in, can perfect the character of the one or the other. One cannot +easily forget to love freedom; and it is as hard to cease to respect that +natural love in our fellow creatures. On entering upon the career of a +slaveholding mistress, Mrs. Auld was singularly deficient; nature, which fits +nobody for such an office, had done less for her than any lady I had known. It +was no easy matter to induce her to think and to feel that the curly-headed +boy, who stood by her side, and even leaned on her lap; who was loved by little +Tommy, and who loved little Tommy in turn; sustained to her only the relation +of a chattel. I was <i>more</i> than that, and she felt me to be more than +that. I could talk and sing; I could laugh and weep; I could reason and +remember; I could love and hate. I was human, and she, dear lady, knew and felt +me to be so. How could she, then, treat me as a brute, without a mighty +struggle with all the noble powers of her own soul. That struggle came, and the +will and power of the husband was victorious. Her noble soul was overthrown; +but, he that overthrew it did not, himself, escape the consequences. He, not +less than the other parties, was injured in his domestic peace by the fall. +</p> + +<p> +When I went into their family, it was the abode of happiness and contentment. +The mistress of the house was a model of affection and tenderness. Her fervent +piety and watchful uprightness made it impossible to see her without thinking +and feeling—“<i>that woman is a Christian</i>.” There was no +sorrow nor suffering for which she had not a tear, and there was no innocent +joy for which she did not a smile. She had bread for the hungry, clothes for +the naked, and comfort for every mourner that came within her reach. Slavery +soon proved its ability to divest her of these excellent qualities, and her +home of its early happiness. Conscience cannot stand much violence. Once +thoroughly broken down, <i>who</i> is he that can repair the damage? It may be +broken toward the slave, on Sunday, and toward the master on Monday. It cannot +endure such shocks. It must stand entire, or it does not stand at all. If my +condition waxed bad, that of the family waxed not better. The first step, in +the wrong direction, was the violence done to nature and to conscience, in +arresting the benevolence that would have enlightened my young mind. In ceasing +to instruct me, she must begin to justify herself <i>to</i> herself; and, once +consenting to take sides in such a debate, she was riveted to her position. One +needs very little knowledge of moral philosophy, to see <i>where</i> my +mistress now landed. She finally became even more violent in her opposition to +my learning to read, than was her husband himself. She was not satisfied with +simply doing as <i>well</i> as her husband had commanded her, but seemed +resolved to better his instruction. Nothing appeared to make my poor +mistress—after her turning toward the downward path—more angry, +than seeing me, seated in some nook or corner, quietly reading a book or a +newspaper. I have had her rush at me, with the utmost fury, and snatch from my +hand such newspaper or book, with something of the wrath and consternation +which a traitor might be supposed to feel on being discovered in a plot by some +dangerous spy. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Auld was an apt woman, and the advice of her husband, and her own +experience, soon demonstrated, to her entire satisfaction, that education and +slavery are incompatible with each other. When this conviction was thoroughly +established, I was most narrowly watched in all my movements. If I remained in +a separate room from the family for any considerable length of time, I was sure +to be suspected of having a book, and was at once called upon to give an +account of myself. All this, however, was entirely <i>too late</i>. The first, +and never to be retraced, step had been taken. In teaching me the alphabet, in +the days of her simplicity and kindness, my mistress had given me the +<i>“inch,”</i> and now, no ordinary precaution could prevent me +from taking the <i>“ell.”</i> +</p> + +<p> +Seized with a determination to learn to read, at any cost, I hit upon many +expedients to accomplish the desired end. The plea which I mainly adopted, and +the one by which I was most successful, was that of using my young white +playmates, with whom I met in the streets as teachers. I used to carry, almost +constantly, a copy of Webster’s spelling book in my pocket; and, when +sent of errands, or when play time was allowed me, I would step, with my young +friends, aside, and take a lesson in spelling. I generally paid my <i>tuition +fee</i> to the boys, with bread, which I also carried in my pocket. For a +single biscuit, any of my hungry little comrades would give me a lesson more +valuable to me than bread. Not every one, however, demanded this consideration, +for there were those who took pleasure in teaching me, whenever I had a chance +to be taught by them. I am strongly tempted to give the names of two or three +of those little boys, as a slight testimonial of the gratitude and affection I +bear them, but prudence forbids; not that it would injure me, but it might, +possibly, embarrass them; for it is almost an unpardonable offense to do any +thing, directly or indirectly, to promote a slave’s freedom, in a slave +state. It is enough to say, of my warm-hearted little play fellows, that they +lived on Philpot street, very near Durgin & Bailey’s shipyard. +</p> + +<p> +Although slavery was a delicate subject, and very cautiously talked about among +grown up people in Maryland, I frequently talked about it—and that very +freely—with the white boys. I would, sometimes, say to them, while seated +on a curb stone or a cellar door, “I wish I could be free, as you will be +when you get to be men.” “You will be free, you know, as soon as +you are twenty-one, and can go where you like, but I am a slave for life. Have +I not as good a right to be free as you have?” Words like these, I +observed, always troubled them; and I had no small satisfaction in wringing +from the boys, occasionally, that fresh and bitter condemnation of slavery, +that springs from nature, unseared and unperverted. Of all consciences let me +have those to deal with which have not been bewildered by the cares of life. I +do not remember ever to have met with a <i>boy</i>, while I was in slavery, who +defended the slave system; but I have often had boys to console me, with the +hope that something would yet occur, by which I might be made free. Over and +over again, they have told me, that “they believed I had as good a right +to be free as <i>they</i> had;” and that “they did not believe God +ever made any one to be a slave.” The reader will easily see, that such +little conversations with my play fellows, had no tendency to weaken my love of +liberty, nor to render me contented with my condition as a slave. +</p> + +<p> +When I was about thirteen years old, and had succeeded in learning to read, +every increase of knowledge, especially respecting the FREE STATES, added +something to the almost intolerable burden of the thought—I AM A SLAVE +FOR LIFE. To my bondage I saw no end. It was a terrible reality, and I shall +never be able to tell how sadly that thought chafed my young spirit. +Fortunately, or unfortunately, about this time in my life, I had made enough +money to buy what was then a very popular school book, viz: the <i>Columbian +Orator</i>. I bought this addition to my library, of Mr. Knight, on Thames +street, Fell’s Point, Baltimore, and paid him fifty cents for it. I was +first led to buy this book, by hearing some little boys say they were going to +learn some little pieces out of it for the Exhibition. This volume was, indeed, +a rich treasure, and every opportunity afforded me, for a time, was spent in +diligently perusing it. Among much other interesting matter, that which I had +perused and reperused with unflagging satisfaction, was a short dialogue +between a master and his slave. The slave is represented as having been +recaptured, in a second attempt to run away; and the master opens the dialogue +with an upbraiding speech, charging the slave with ingratitude, and demanding +to know what he has to say in his own defense. Thus upbraided, and thus called +upon to reply, the slave rejoins, that he knows how little anything that he can +say will avail, seeing that he is completely in the hands of his owner; and +with noble resolution, calmly says, “I submit to my fate.” Touched +by the slave’s answer, the master insists upon his further speaking, and +recapitulates the many acts of kindness which he has performed toward the +slave, and tells him he is permitted to speak for himself. Thus invited to the +debate, the quondam slave made a spirited defense of himself, and thereafter +the whole argument, for and against slavery, was brought out. The master was +vanquished at every turn in the argument; and seeing himself to be thus +vanquished, he generously and meekly emancipates the slave, with his best +wishes for his prosperity. It is scarcely neccessary(sic) to say, that a +dialogue, with such an origin, and such an ending—read when the fact of +my being a slave was a constant burden of grief—powerfully affected me; +and I could not help feeling that the day might come, when the well-directed +answers made by the slave to the master, in this instance, would find their +counterpart in myself. +</p> + +<p> +This, however, was not all the fanaticism which I found in this <i>Columbian +Orator</i>. I met there one of Sheridan’s mighty speeches, on the subject +of Catholic Emancipation, Lord Chatham’s speech on the American war, and +speeches by the great William Pitt and by Fox. These were all choice documents +to me, and I read them, over and over again, with an interest that was ever +increasing, because it was ever gaining in intelligence; for the more I read +them, the better I understood them. The reading of these speeches added much to +my limited stock of language, and enabled me to give tongue to many interesting +thoughts, which had frequently flashed through my soul, and died away for want +of utterance. The mighty power and heart-searching directness of truth, +penetrating even the heart of a slaveholder, compelling him to yield up his +earthly interests to the claims of eternal justice, were finely illustrated in +the dialogue, just referred to; and from the speeches of Sheridan, I got a bold +and powerful denunciation of oppression, and a most brilliant vindication of +the rights of man. Here was, indeed, a noble acquisition. If I ever wavered +under the consideration, that the Almighty, in some way, ordained slavery, and +willed my enslavement for his own glory, I wavered no longer. I had now +penetrated the secret of all slavery and oppression, and had ascertained their +true foundation to be in the pride, the power and the avarice of man. The +dialogue and the speeches were all redolent of the principles of liberty, and +poured floods of light on the nature and character of slavery. With a book of +this kind in my hand, my own human nature, and the facts of my experience, to +help me, I was equal to a contest with the religious advocates of slavery, +whether among the whites or among the colored people, for blindness, in this +matter, is not confined to the former. I have met many religious colored +people, at the south, who are under the delusion that God requires them to +submit to slavery, and to wear their chains with meekness and humility. I could +entertain no such nonsense as this; and I almost lost my patience when I found +any colored man weak enough to believe such stuff. Nevertheless, the increase +of knowledge was attended with bitter, as well as sweet results. The more I +read, the more I was led to abhor and detest slavery, and my enslavers. +“Slaveholders,” thought I, “are only a band of successful +robbers, who left their homes and went into Africa for the purpose of stealing +and reducing my people to slavery.” I loathed them as the meanest and the +most wicked of men. As I read, behold! the very discontent so graphically +predicted by Master Hugh, had already come upon me. I was no longer the +light-hearted, gleesome boy, full of mirth and play, as when I landed first at +Baltimore. Knowledge had come; light had penetrated the moral dungeon where I +dwelt; and, behold! there lay the bloody whip, for my back, and here was the +iron chain; and my good, <i>kind master</i>, he was the author of my situation. +The revelation haunted me, stung me, and made me gloomy and miserable. As I +writhed under the sting and torment of this knowledge, I almost envied my +fellow slaves their stupid contentment. This knowledge opened my eyes to the +horrible pit, and revealed the teeth of the frightful dragon that was ready to +pounce upon me, but it opened no way for my escape. I have often wished myself +a beast, or a bird—anything, rather than a slave. I was wretched and +gloomy, beyond my ability to describe. I was too thoughtful to be happy. It was +this everlasting thinking which distressed and tormented me; and yet there was +no getting rid of the subject of my thoughts. All nature was redolent of it. +Once awakened by the silver trump of knowledge, my spirit was roused to eternal +wakefulness. Liberty! the inestimable birthright of every man, had, for me, +converted every object into an asserter of this great right. It was heard in +every sound, and beheld in every object. It was ever present, to torment me +with a sense of my wretched condition. The more beautiful and charming were the +smiles of nature, the more horrible and desolate was my condition. I saw +nothing without seeing it, and I heard nothing without hearing it. I do not +exaggerate, when I say, that it looked from every star, smiled in every calm, +breathed in every wind, and moved in every storm. +</p> + +<p> +I have no doubt that my state of mind had something to do with the change in +the treatment adopted, by my once kind mistress toward me. I can easily +believe, that my leaden, downcast, and discontented look, was very offensive to +her. Poor lady! She did not know my trouble, and I dared not tell her. Could I +have freely made her acquainted with the real state of my mind, and given her +the reasons therefor, it might have been well for both of us. Her abuse of me +fell upon me like the blows of the false prophet upon his ass; she did not know +that an <i>angel</i> stood in the way; and—such is the relation of master +and slave I could not tell her. Nature had made us <i>friends;</i> slavery made +us <i>enemies</i>. My interests were in a direction opposite to hers, and we +both had our private thoughts and plans. She aimed to keep me ignorant; and I +resolved to know, although knowledge only increased my discontent. My feelings +were not the result of any marked cruelty in the treatment I received; they +sprung from the consideration of my being a slave at all. It was +<i>slavery</i>—not its mere <i>incidents</i>—that I hated. I had +been cheated. I saw through the attempt to keep me in ignorance; I saw that +slaveholders would have gladly made me believe that they were merely acting +under the authority of God, in making a slave of me, and in making slaves of +others; and I treated them as robbers and deceivers. The feeding and clothing +me well, could not atone for taking my liberty from me. The smiles of my +mistress could not remove the deep sorrow that dwelt in my young bosom. Indeed, +these, in time, came only to deepen my sorrow. She had changed; and the reader +will see that I had changed, too. We were both victims to the same +overshadowing evil—<i>she</i>, as mistress, I, as slave. I will not +censure her harshly; she cannot censure me, for she knows I speak but the +truth, and have acted in my opposition to slavery, just as she herself would +have acted, in a reverse of circumstances. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> +CHAPTER XII. <i>Religious Nature Awakened</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +ABOLITIONISTS SPOKEN OF—MY EAGERNESS TO KNOW WHAT THIS WORD +MEANT—MY CONSULTATION OF THE DICTIONARY—INCENDIARY +INFORMATION—HOW AND WHERE DERIVED—THE ENIGMA SOLVED—NATHANIEL +TURNER’S INSURRECTION—THE CHOLERA—RELIGION—FIRST +AWAKENED BY A METHODIST MINISTER NAMED HANSON—MY DEAR AND GOOD OLD +COLORED FRIEND, LAWSON—HIS CHARACTER AND OCCUPATION—HIS INFLUENCE +OVER ME—OUR MUTUAL ATTACHMENT—THE COMFORT I DERIVED FROM HIS +TEACHING—NEW HOPES AND ASPIRATIONS—HEAVENLY LIGHT AMIDST EARTHLY +DARKNESS—THE TWO IRISHMEN ON THE WHARF—THEIR CONVERSATION—HOW +I LEARNED TO WRITE—WHAT WERE MY AIMS. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst in the painful state of mind described in the foregoing chapter, almost +regretting my very existence, because doomed to a life of bondage, so goaded +and so wretched, at times, that I was even tempted to destroy my own life, I +was keenly sensitive and eager to know any, and every thing that transpired, +having any relation to the subject of slavery. I was all ears, all eyes, +whenever the words <i>slave, slavery</i>, dropped from the lips of any white +person, and the occasions were not unfrequent when these words became leading +ones, in high, social debate, at our house. Every little while, I could hear +Master Hugh, or some of his company, speaking with much warmth and excitement +about <i>“abolitionists.”</i> Of <i>who</i> or <i>what</i> these +were, I was totally ignorant. I found, however, that whatever they might be, +they were most cordially hated and soundly abused by slaveholders, of every +grade. I very soon discovered, too, that slavery was, in some sort, under +consideration, whenever the abolitionists were alluded to. This made the term a +very interesting one to me. If a slave, for instance, had made good his escape +from slavery, it was generally alleged, that he had been persuaded and assisted +by the abolitionists. If, also, a slave killed his master—as was +sometimes the case—or struck down his overseer, or set fire to his +master’s dwelling, or committed any violence or crime, out of the common +way, it was certain to be said, that such a crime was the legitimate fruits of +the abolition movement. Hearing such charges often repeated, I, naturally +enough, received the impression that abolition—whatever else it might +be—could not be unfriendly to the slave, nor very friendly to the +slaveholder. I therefore set about finding out, if possible, <i>who</i> and +<i>what</i> the abolitionists were, and <i>why</i> they were so obnoxious to +the slaveholders. The dictionary afforded me very little help. It taught me +that abolition was the “act of abolishing;” but it left me in +ignorance at the very point where I most wanted information—and that was, +as to the <i>thing</i> to be abolished. A city newspaper, the <i>Baltimore +American</i>, gave me the incendiary information denied me by the dictionary. +In its columns I found, that, on a certain day, a vast number of petitions and +memorials had been presented to congress, praying for the abolition of slavery +in the District of Columbia, and for the abolition of the slave trade between +the states of the Union. This was enough. The vindictive bitterness, the marked +caution, the studied reverse, and the cumbrous ambiguity, practiced by our +white folks, when alluding to this subject, was now fully explained. Ever, +after that, when I heard the words “abolition,” or “abolition +movement,” mentioned, I felt the matter one of a personal concern; and I +drew near to listen, when I could do so, without seeming too solicitous and +prying. There was HOPE in those words. Ever and anon, too, I could see some +terrible denunciation of slavery, in our papers—copied from abolition +papers at the north—and the injustice of such denunciation commented on. +These I read with avidity. I had a deep satisfaction in the thought, that the +rascality of slaveholders was not concealed from the eyes of the world, and +that I was not alone in abhorring the cruelty and brutality of slavery. A still +deeper train of thought was stirred. I saw that there was <i>fear</i>, as well +as <i>rage</i>, in the manner of speaking of the abolitionists. The latter, +therefore, I was compelled to regard as having some power in the country; and I +felt that they might, possibly, succeed in their designs. When I met with a +slave to whom I deemed it safe to talk on the subject, I would impart to him so +much of the mystery as I had been able to penetrate. Thus, the light of this +grand movement broke in upon my mind, by degrees; and I must say, that, +ignorant as I then was of the philosophy of that movement, I believe in it from +the first—and I believed in it, partly, because I saw that it alarmed the +consciences of slaveholders. The insurrection of Nathaniel Turner had been +quelled, but the alarm and terror had not subsided. The cholera was on its way, +and the thought was present, that God was angry with the white people because +of their slaveholding wickedness, and, therefore, his judgments were abroad in +the land. It was impossible for me not to hope much from the abolition +movement, when I saw it supported by the Almighty, and armed with DEATH! +</p> + +<p> +Previous to my contemplation of the anti-slavery movement, and its probable +results, my mind had been seriously awakened to the subject of religion. I was +not more than thirteen years old, when I felt the need of God, as a father and +protector. My religious nature was awakened by the preaching of a white +Methodist minister, named Hanson. He thought that all men, great and small, +bond and free, were sinners in the sight of God; that they were, by nature, +rebels against His government; and that they must repent of their sins, and be +reconciled to God, through Christ. I cannot say that I had a very distinct +notion of what was required of me; but one thing I knew very well—I was +wretched, and had no means of making myself otherwise. Moreover, I knew that I +could pray for light. I consulted a good colored man, named Charles Johnson; +and, in tones of holy affection, he told me to pray, and what to pray for. I +was, for weeks, a poor, brokenhearted mourner, traveling through the darkness +and misery of doubts and fears. I finally found that change of heart which +comes by “casting all one’s care” upon God, and by having +faith in Jesus Christ, as the Redeemer, Friend, and Savior of those who +diligently seek Him. +</p> + +<p> +After this, I saw the world in a new light. I seemed to live in a new world, +surrounded by new objects, and to be animated by new hopes and desires. I loved +all mankind—slaveholders not excepted; though I abhorred slavery more +than ever. My great concern was, now, to have the world converted. The desire +for knowledge increased, and especially did I want a thorough acquaintance with +the contents of the bible. I have gathered scattered pages from this holy book, +from the filthy street gutters of Baltimore, and washed and dried them, that in +the moments of my leisure, I might get a word or two of wisdom from them. While +thus religiously seeking knowledge, I became acquainted with a good old colored +man, named Lawson. A more devout man than he, I never saw. He drove a dray for +Mr. James Ramsey, the owner of a rope-walk on Fell’s Point, Baltimore. +This man not only prayed three time a day, but he prayed as he walked through +the streets, at his work—on his dray everywhere. His life was a life of +prayer, and his words (when he spoke to his friends,) were about a better +world. Uncle Lawson lived near Master Hugh’s house; and, becoming deeply +attached to the old man, I went often with him to prayer-meeting, and spent +much of my leisure time with him on Sunday. The old man could read a little, +and I was a great help to him, in making out the hard words, for I was a better +reader than he. I could teach him <i>“the letter,”</i> but he could +teach me <i>“the spirit;”</i> and high, refreshing times we had +together, in singing, praying and glorifying God. These meetings with Uncle +Lawson went on for a long time, without the knowledge of Master Hugh or my +mistress. Both knew, however, that I had become religious, and they seemed to +respect my conscientious piety. My mistress was still a professor of religion, +and belonged to class. Her leader was no less a person than the Rev. Beverly +Waugh, the presiding elder, and now one of the bishops of the Methodist +Episcopal church. Mr. Waugh was then stationed over Wilk street church. I am +careful to state these facts, that the reader may be able to form an idea of +the precise influences which had to do with shaping and directing my mind. +</p> + +<p> +In view of the cares and anxieties incident to the life she was then leading, +and, especially, in view of the separation from religious associations to which +she was subjected, my mistress had, as I have before stated, become lukewarm, +and needed to be looked up by her leader. This brought Mr. Waugh to our house, +and gave me an opportunity to hear him exhort and pray. But my chief +instructor, in matters of religion, was Uncle Lawson. He was my spiritual +father; and I loved him intensely, and was at his house every chance I got. +</p> + +<p> +This pleasure was not long allowed me. Master Hugh became averse to my going to +Father Lawson’s, and threatened to whip me if I ever went there again. I +now felt myself persecuted by a wicked man; and I <i>would</i> go to Father +Lawson’s, notwithstanding the threat. The good old man had told me, that +the “Lord had a great work for me to do;” and I must prepare to do +it; and that he had been shown that I must preach the gospel. His words made a +deep impression on my mind, and I verily felt that some such work was before +me, though I could not see <i>how</i> I should ever engage in its performance. +“The good Lord,” he said, “would bring it to pass in his own +good time,” and that I must go on reading and studying the scriptures. +The advice and the suggestions of Uncle Lawson, were not without their +influence upon my character and destiny. He threw my thoughts into a channel +from which they have never entirely diverged. He fanned my already intense love +of knowledge into a flame, by assuring me that I was to be a useful man in the +world. When I would say to him, “How can these things be and what can +<i>I</i> do?” his simple reply was, <i>“Trust in the +Lord.”</i> When I told him that “I was a slave, and a slave FOR +LIFE,” he said, “the Lord can make you free, my dear. All things +are possible with him, only <i>have faith in God.”</i> “Ask, and it +shall be given.” “If you want liberty,” said the good old +man, “ask the Lord for it, <i>in faith</i>, AND HE WILL GIVE IT TO +YOU.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus assured, and cheered on, under the inspiration of hope, I worked and +prayed with a light heart, believing that my life was under the guidance of a +wisdom higher than my own. With all other blessings sought at the mercy seat, I +always prayed that God would, of His great mercy, and in His own good time, +deliver me from my bondage. +</p> + +<p> +I went, one day, on the wharf of Mr. Waters; and seeing two Irishmen unloading +a large scow of stone, or ballast I went on board, unasked, and helped them. +When we had finished the work, one of the men came to me, aside, and asked me a +number of questions, and among them, if I were a slave. I told him “I was +a slave, and a slave for life.” The good Irishman gave his shoulders a +shrug, and seemed deeply affected by the statement. He said, “it was a +pity so fine a little fellow as myself should be a slave for life.” They +both had much to say about the matter, and expressed the deepest sympathy with +me, and the most decided hatred of slavery. They went so far as to tell me that +I ought to run away, and go to the north; that I should find friends there, and +that I would be as free as anybody. I, however, pretended not to be interested +in what they said, for I feared they might be treacherous. White men have been +known to encourage slaves to escape, and then—to get the +reward—they have kidnapped them, and returned them to their masters. And +while I mainly inclined to the notion that these men were honest and meant me +no ill, I feared it might be otherwise. I nevertheless remembered their words +and their advice, and looked forward to an escape to the north, as a possible +means of gaining the liberty for which my heart panted. It was not my +enslavement, at the then present time, that most affected me; the being a slave +<i>for life</i>, was the saddest thought. I was too young to think of running +away immediately; besides, I wished to learn how to write, before going, as I +might have occasion to write my own pass. I now not only had the hope of +freedom, but a foreshadowing of the means by which I might, some day, gain that +inestimable boon. Meanwhile, I resolved to add to my educational attainments +the art of writing. +</p> + +<p> +After this manner I began to learn to write: I was much in the ship +yard—Master Hugh’s, and that of Durgan & Bailey—and I +observed that the carpenters, after hewing and getting a piece of timber ready +for use, wrote on it the initials of the name of that part of the ship for +which it was intended. When, for instance, a piece of timber was ready for the +starboard side, it was marked with a capital “S.” A piece for the +larboard side was marked “L;” larboard forward, “L. +F.;” larboard aft, was marked “L. A.;” starboard aft, +“S. A.;” and starboard forward “S. F.” I soon learned +these letters, and for what they were placed on the timbers. +</p> + +<p> +My work was now, to keep fire under the steam box, and to watch the ship yard +while the carpenters had gone to dinner. This interval gave me a fine +opportunity for copying the letters named. I soon astonished myself with the +ease with which I made the letters; and the thought was soon present, “if +I can make four, I can make more.” But having made these easily, when I +met boys about Bethel church, or any of our play-grounds, I entered the lists +with them in the art of writing, and would make the letters which I had been so +fortunate as to learn, and ask them to “beat that if they could.” +With playmates for my teachers, fences and pavements for my copy books, and +chalk for my pen and ink, I learned the art of writing. I, however, afterward +adopted various methods of improving my hand. The most successful, was copying +the <i>italics</i> in Webster’s spelling book, until I could make them +all without looking on the book. By this time, my little “Master +Tommy” had grown to be a big boy, and had written over a number of copy +books, and brought them home. They had been shown to the neighbors, had +elicited due praise, and were now laid carefully away. Spending my time between +the ship yard and house, I was as often the lone keeper of the latter as of the +former. When my mistress left me in charge of the house, I had a grand time; I +got Master Tommy’s copy books and a pen and ink, and, in the ample spaces +between the lines, I wrote other lines, as nearly like his as possible. The +process was a tedious one, and I ran the risk of getting a flogging for marring +the highly prized copy books of the oldest son. In addition to those +opportunities, sleeping, as I did, in the kitchen loft—a room seldom +visited by any of the family—I got a flour barrel up there, and a chair; +and upon the head of that barrel I have written (or endeavored to write) +copying from the bible and the Methodist hymn book, and other books which had +accumulated on my hands, till late at night, and when all the family were in +bed and asleep. I was supported in my endeavors by renewed advice, and by holy +promises from the good Father Lawson, with whom I continued to meet, and pray, +and read the scriptures. Although Master Hugh was aware of my going there, I +must say, for his credit, that he never executed his threat to whip me, for +having thus, innocently, employed-my leisure time. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a> +CHAPTER XIII. <i>The Vicissitudes of Slave Life</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +DEATH OF OLD MASTER’S SON RICHARD, SPEEDILY FOLLOWED BY THAT OF OLD +MASTER—VALUATION AND DIVISION OF ALL THE PROPERTY, INCLUDING THE +SLAVES—MY PRESENCE REQUIRED AT HILLSBOROUGH TO BE APPRAISED AND ALLOTTED +TO A NEW OWNER—MY SAD PROSPECTS AND GRIEF—PARTING—THE UTTER +POWERLESSNESS OF THE SLAVES TO DECIDE THEIR OWN DESTINY—A GENERAL DREAD +OF MASTER ANDREW—HIS WICKEDNESS AND CRUELTY—MISS LUCRETIA MY NEW +OWNER—MY RETURN TO BALTIMORE—JOY UNDER THE ROOF OF MASTER +HUGH—DEATH OF MRS. LUCRETIA—MY POOR OLD GRANDMOTHER—HER SAD +FATE—THE LONE COT IN THE WOODS—MASTER THOMAS AULD’S SECOND +MARRIAGE—AGAIN REMOVED FROM MASTER HUGH’S—REASONS FOR +REGRETTING THE CHANGE—A PLAN OF ESCAPE ENTERTAINED. +</p> + +<p> +I must now ask the reader to go with me a little back in point of time, in my +humble story, and to notice another circumstance that entered into my slavery +experience, and which, doubtless, has had a share in deepening my horror of +slavery, and increasing my hostility toward those men and measures that +practically uphold the slave system. +</p> + +<p> +It has already been observed, that though I was, after my removal from Col. +Lloyd’s plantation, in <i>form</i> the slave of Master Hugh, I was, in +<i>fact</i>, and in <i>law</i>, the slave of my old master, Capt. Anthony. Very +well. +</p> + +<p> +In a very short time after I went to Baltimore, my old master’s youngest +son, Richard, died; and, in three years and six months after his death, my old +master himself died, leaving only his son, Andrew, and his daughter, Lucretia, +to share his estate. The old man died while on a visit to his daughter, in +Hillsborough, where Capt. Auld and Mrs. Lucretia now lived. The former, having +given up the command of Col. Lloyd’s sloop, was now keeping a store in +that town. +</p> + +<p> +Cut off, thus unexpectedly, Capt. Anthony died intestate; and his property must +now be equally divided between his two children, Andrew and Lucretia. +</p> + +<p> +The valuation and the division of slaves, among contending heirs, is an +important incident in slave life. The character and tendencies of the heirs, +are generally well understood among the slaves who are to be divided, and all +have their aversions and preferences. But, neither their aversions nor their +preferences avail them anything. +</p> + +<p> +On the death of old master, I was immediately sent for, to be valued and +divided with the other property. Personally, my concern was, mainly, about my +possible removal from the home of Master Hugh, which, after that of my +grandmother, was the most endeared to me. But, the whole thing, as a feature of +slavery, shocked me. It furnished me anew insight into the unnatural power to +which I was subjected. My detestation of slavery, already great, rose with this +new conception of its enormity. +</p> + +<p> +That was a sad day for me, a sad day for little Tommy, and a sad day for my +dear Baltimore mistress and teacher, when I left for the Eastern Shore, to be +valued and divided. We, all three, wept bitterly that day; for we might be +parting, and we feared we were parting, forever. No one could tell among which +pile of chattels I should be flung. Thus early, I got a foretaste of that +painful uncertainty which slavery brings to the ordinary lot of mortals. +Sickness, adversity and death may interfere with the plans and purposes of all; +but the slave has the added danger of changing homes, changing hands, and of +having separations unknown to other men. Then, too, there was the intensified +degradation of the spectacle. What an assemblage! Men and women, young and old, +married and single; moral and intellectual beings, in open contempt of their +humanity, level at a blow with horses, sheep, horned cattle and swine! Horses +and men—cattle and women—pigs and children—all holding the +same rank in the scale of social existence; and all subjected to the same +narrow inspection, to ascertain their value in gold and silver—the only +standard of worth applied by slaveholders to slaves! How vividly, at that +moment, did the brutalizing power of slavery flash before me! Personality +swallowed up in the sordid idea of property! Manhood lost in chattelhood! +</p> + +<p> +After the valuation, then came the division. This was an hour of high +excitement and distressing anxiety. Our destiny was now to be <i>fixed for +life</i>, and we had no more voice in the decision of the question, than the +oxen and cows that stood chewing at the haymow. One word from the appraisers, +against all preferences or prayers, was enough to sunder all the ties of +friendship and affection, and even to separate husbands and wives, parents and +children. We were all appalled before that power, which, to human seeming, +could bless or blast us in a moment. Added to the dread of separation, most +painful to the majority of the slaves, we all had a decided horror of the +thought of falling into the hands of Master Andrew. He was distinguished for +cruelty and intemperance. +</p> + +<p> +Slaves generally dread to fall into the hands of drunken owners. Master Andrew +was almost a confirmed sot, and had already, by his reckless mismanagement and +profligate dissipation, wasted a large portion of old master’s property. +To fall into his hands, was, therefore, considered merely as the first step +toward being sold away to the far south. He would spend his fortune in a few +years, and his farms and slaves would be sold, we thought, at public outcry; +and we should be hurried away to the cotton fields, and rice swamps, of the +sunny south. This was the cause of deep consternation. +</p> + +<p> +The people of the north, and free people generally, I think, have less +attachment to the places where they are born and brought up, than have the +slaves. Their freedom to go and come, to be here and there, as they list, +prevents any extravagant attachment to any one particular place, in their case. +On the other hand, the slave is a fixture; he has no choice, no goal, no +destination; but is pegged down to a single spot, and must take root here, or +nowhere. The idea of removal elsewhere, comes, generally, in the shape of a +threat, and in punishment of crime. It is, therefore, attended with fear and +dread. A slave seldom thinks of bettering his condition by being sold, and +hence he looks upon separation from his native place, with none of the +enthusiasm which animates the bosoms of young freemen, when they contemplate a +life in the far west, or in some distant country where they intend to rise to +wealth and distinction. Nor can those from whom they separate, give them up +with that cheerfulness with which friends and relations yield each other up, +when they feel that it is for the good of the departing one that he is removed +from his native place. Then, too, there is correspondence, and there is, at +least, the hope of reunion, because reunion is <i>possible</i>. But, with the +slave, all these mitigating circumstances are wanting. There is no improvement +in his condition <i>probable</i>,—no correspondence +<i>possible</i>,—no reunion attainable. His going out into the world, is +like a living man going into the tomb, who, with open eyes, sees himself buried +out of sight and hearing of wife, children and friends of kindred tie. +</p> + +<p> +In contemplating the likelihoods and possibilities of our circumstances, I +probably suffered more than most of my fellow servants. I had known what it was +to experience kind, and even tender treatment; they had known nothing of the +sort. Life, to them, had been rough and thorny, as well as dark. They +had—most of them—lived on my old master’s farm in Tuckahoe, +and had felt the reign of Mr. Plummer’s rule. The overseer had written +his character on the living parchment of most of their backs, and left them +callous; my back (thanks to my early removal from the plantation to Baltimore) +was yet tender. I had left a kind mistress at Baltimore, who was almost a +mother to me. She was in tears when we parted, and the probabilities of ever +seeing her again, trembling in the balance as they did, could not be viewed +without alarm and agony. The thought of leaving that kind mistress forever, +and, worse still, of being the slave of Andrew Anthony—a man who, but a +few days before the division of the property, had, in my presence, seized my +brother Perry by the throat, dashed him on the ground, and with the heel of his +boot stamped him on the head, until the blood gushed from his nose and +ears—was terrible! This fiendish proceeding had no better apology than +the fact, that Perry had gone to play, when Master Andrew wanted him for some +trifling service. This cruelty, too, was of a piece with his general character. +After inflicting his heavy blows on my brother, on observing me looking at him +with intense astonishment, he said, “<i>That</i> is the way I will serve +you, one of these days;” meaning, no doubt, when I should come into his +possession. This threat, the reader may well suppose, was not very +tranquilizing to my feelings. I could see that he really thirsted to get hold +of me. But I was there only for a few days. I had not received any orders, and +had violated none, and there was, therefore, no excuse for flogging me. +</p> + +<p> +At last, the anxiety and suspense were ended; and they ended, thanks to a kind +Providence, in accordance with my wishes. I fell to the portion of Mrs. +Lucretia—the dear lady who bound up my head, when the savage Aunt Katy +was adding to my sufferings her bitterest maledictions. +</p> + +<p> +Capt. Thomas Auld and Mrs. Lucretia at once decided on my return to Baltimore. +They knew how sincerely and warmly Mrs. Hugh Auld was attached to me, and how +delighted Mr. Hugh’s son would be to have me back; and, withal, having no +immediate use for one so young, they willingly let me off to Baltimore. +</p> + +<p> +I need not stop here to narrate my joy on returning to Baltimore, nor that of +little Tommy; nor the tearful joy of his mother; nor the evident +saticfaction(sic) of Master Hugh. I was just one month absent from Baltimore, +before the matter was decided; and the time really seemed full six months. +</p> + +<p> +One trouble over, and on comes another. The slave’s life is full of +uncertainty. I had returned to Baltimore but a short time, when the tidings +reached me, that my friend, Mrs. Lucretia, who was only second in my regard to +Mrs. Hugh Auld, was dead, leaving her husband and only one child—a +daughter, named Amanda. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after the death of Mrs. Lucretia, strange to say, Master Andrew died, +leaving his wife and one child. Thus, the whole family of Anthonys was swept +away; only two children remained. All this happened within five years of my +leaving Col. Lloyd’s. +</p> + +<p> +No alteration took place in the condition of the slaves, in consequence of +these deaths, yet I could not help feeling less secure, after the death of my +friend, Mrs. Lucretia, than I had done during her life. While she lived, I felt +that I had a strong friend to plead for me in any emergency. Ten years ago, +while speaking of the state of things in our family, after the events just +named, I used this language: +</p> + +<p> +Now all the property of my old master, slaves included, was in the hands of +strangers—strangers who had nothing to do in accumulating it. Not a slave +was left free. All remained slaves, from youngest to oldest. If any one thing +in my experience, more than another, served to deepen my conviction of the +infernal character of slavery, and to fill me with unutterable loathing of +slaveholders, it was their base ingratitude to my poor old grandmother. She had +served my old master faithfully from youth to old age. She had been the source +of all his wealth; she had peopled his plantation with slaves; she had become a +great-grandmother in his service. She had rocked him in infancy, attended him +in childhood, served him through life, and at his death wiped from his icy brow +the cold death-sweat, and closed his eyes forever. She was nevertheless left a +slave—a slave for life—a slave in the hands of strangers; and in +their hands she saw her children, her grandchildren, and her +great-grandchildren, divided, like so many sheep, without being gratified with +the small privilege of a single word, as to their or her own destiny. And, to +cap the climax of their base ingratitude and fiendish barbarity, my +grandmother, who was now very old, having outlived my old master and all his +children, having seen the beginning and end of all of them, and her present +owners finding she was of but little value, her frame already racked with the +pains of old age, and complete helplessness fast stealing over her once active +limbs, they took her to the woods, built her a little hut, put up a little +mud-chimney, and then made her welcome to the privilege of supporting herself +there in perfect loneliness; thus virtually turning her out to die! If my poor +old grandmother now lives, she lives to suffer in utter loneliness; she lives +to remember and mourn over the loss of children, the loss of grandchildren, and +the loss of great-grandchildren. They are, in the language of the slave’s +poet, Whittier— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Gone, gone, sold and gone,<br/> +To the rice swamp dank and lone,<br/> +Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings,<br/> +Where the noisome insect stings,<br/> +Where the fever-demon strews<br/> +Poison with the falling dews,<br/> +Where the sickly sunbeams glare<br/> +Through the hot and misty air:—<br/> +Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Gone, gone, sold and gone<br/> +Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â To the rice swamp dank and lone,<br/> +Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â From Virginia hills and waters—<br/> +Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Woe is me, my stolen daughters! +</p> + +<p> +The hearth is desolate. The children, the unconscious children, who once sang +and danced in her presence, are gone. She gropes her way, in the darkness of +age, for a drink of water. Instead of the voices of her children, she hears by +day the moans of the dove, and by night the screams of the hideous owl. All is +gloom. The grave is at the door. And now, when weighed down by the pains and +aches of old age, when the head inclines to the feet, when the beginning and +ending of human existence meet, and helpless infancy and painful old age +combine together—at this time, this most needful time, the time for the +exercise of that tenderness and affection which children only can exercise +toward a declining parent—my poor old grandmother, the devoted mother of +twelve children, is left all alone, in yonder little hut, before a few dim +embers. +</p> + +<p> +Two years after the death of Mrs. Lucretia, Master Thomas married his second +wife. Her name was Rowena Hamilton, the eldest daughter of Mr. William +Hamilton, a rich slaveholder on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, who lived about +five miles from St. Michael’s, the then place of my master’s +residence. +</p> + +<p> +Not long after his marriage, Master Thomas had a misunderstanding with Master +Hugh, and, as a means of punishing his brother, he ordered him to send me home. +</p> + +<p> +As the ground of misunderstanding will serve to illustrate the character of +southern chivalry, and humanity, I will relate it. +</p> + +<p> +Among the children of my Aunt Milly, was a daughter, named Henny. When quite a +child, Henny had fallen into the fire, and burnt her hands so bad that they +were of very little use to her. Her fingers were drawn almost into the palms of +her hands. She could make out to do something, but she was considered hardly +worth the having—of little more value than a horse with a broken leg. +This unprofitable piece of human property, ill shapen, and disfigured, Capt. +Auld sent off to Baltimore, making his brother Hugh welcome to her services. +</p> + +<p> +After giving poor Henny a fair trial, Master Hugh and his wife came to the +conclusion, that they had no use for the crippled servant, and they sent her +back to Master Thomas. Thus, the latter took as an act of ingratitude, on the +part of his brother; and, as a mark of his displeasure, he required him to send +me immediately to St. Michael’s, saying, if he cannot keep +<i>“Hen,”</i> he shall not have <i>“Fred.”</i> +</p> + +<p> +Here was another shock to my nerves, another breaking up of my plans, and +another severance of my religious and social alliances. I was now a big boy. I +had become quite useful to several young colored men, who had made me their +teacher. I had taught some of them to read, and was accustomed to spend many of +my leisure hours with them. Our attachment was strong, and I greatly dreaded +the separation. But regrets, especially in a slave, are unavailing. I was only +a slave; my wishes were nothing, and my happiness was the sport of my masters. +</p> + +<p> +My regrets at now leaving Baltimore, were not for the same reasons as when I +before left that city, to be valued and handed over to my proper owner. My home +was not now the pleasant place it had formerly been. A change had taken place, +both in Master Hugh, and in his once pious and affectionate wife. The influence +of brandy and bad company on him, and the influence of slavery and social +isolation upon her, had wrought disastrously upon the characters of both. +Thomas was no longer “little Tommy,” but was a big boy, and had +learned to assume the airs of his class toward me. My condition, therefore, in +the house of Master Hugh, was not, by any means, so comfortable as in former +years. My attachments were now outside of our family. They were felt to those +to whom I <i>imparted</i> instruction, and to those little white boys from whom +I <i>received</i> instruction. There, too, was my dear old father, the pious +Lawson, who was, in christian graces, the very counterpart of +“Uncle” Tom. The resemblance is so perfect, that he might have been +the original of Mrs. Stowe’s christian hero. The thought of leaving these +dear friends, greatly troubled me, for I was going without the hope of ever +returning to Baltimore again; the feud between Master Hugh and his brother +being bitter and irreconcilable, or, at least, supposed to be so. +</p> + +<p> +In addition to thoughts of friends from whom I was parting, as I supposed, +<i>forever</i>, I had the grief of neglected chances of escape to brood over. I +had put off running away, until now I was to be placed where the opportunities +for escaping were much fewer than in a large city like Baltimore. +</p> + +<p> +On my way from Baltimore to St. Michael’s, down the Chesapeake bay, our +sloop—the “Amanda”—was passed by the steamers plying +between that city and Philadelphia, and I watched the course of those steamers, +and, while going to St. Michael’s, I formed a plan to escape from +slavery; of which plan, and matters connected therewith the kind reader shall +learn more hereafter. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"></a> +CHAPTER XIV. <i>Experience in St. Michael’s</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +THE VILLAGE—ITS INHABITANTS—THEIR OCCUPATION AND LOW PROPENSITIES +CAPTAN(sic) THOMAS AULD—HIS CHARACTER—HIS SECOND WIFE, +ROWENA—WELL MATCHED—SUFFERINGS FROM HUNGER—OBLIGED TO TAKE +FOOD—MODE OF ARGUMENT IN VINDICATION THEREOF—NO MORAL CODE OF FREE +SOCIETY CAN APPLY TO SLAVE SOCIETY—SOUTHERN CAMP MEETING—WHAT +MASTER THOMAS DID THERE—HOPES—SUSPICIONS ABOUT HIS +CONVERSION—THE RESULT—FAITH AND WORKS ENTIRELY AT +VARIANCE—HIS RISE AND PROGRESS IN THE CHURCH—POOR COUSIN +“HENNY”—HIS TREATMENT OF HER—THE METHODIST +PREACHERS—THEIR UTTER DISREGARD OF US—ONE EXCELLENT +EXCEPTION—REV. GEORGE COOKMAN—SABBATH SCHOOL—HOW BROKEN UP +AND BY WHOM—A FUNERAL PALL CAST OVER ALL MY PROSPECTS—COVEY THE +NEGRO-BREAKER. +</p> + +<p> +St. Michael’s, the village in which was now my new home, compared +favorably with villages in slave states, generally. There were a few +comfortable dwellings in it, but the place, as a whole, wore a dull, slovenly, +enterprise-forsaken aspect. The mass of the buildings were wood; they had never +enjoyed the artificial adornment of paint, and time and storms had worn off the +bright color of the wood, leaving them almost as black as buildings charred by +a conflagration. +</p> + +<p> +St. Michael’s had, in former years, (previous to 1833, for that was the +year I went to reside there,) enjoyed some reputation as a ship building +community, but that business had almost entirely given place to oyster fishing, +for the Baltimore and Philadelphia markets—a course of life highly +unfavorable to morals, industry, and manners. Miles river was broad, and its +oyster fishing grounds were extensive; and the fishermen were out, often, all +day, and a part of the night, during autumn, winter and spring. This exposure +was an excuse for carrying with them, in considerable quanties(sic), spirituous +liquors, the then supposed best antidote for cold. Each canoe was supplied with +its jug of rum; and tippling, among this class of the citizens of St. +Michael’s, became general. This drinking habit, in an ignorant +population, fostered coarseness, vulgarity and an indolent disregard for the +social improvement of the place, so that it was admitted, by the few sober, +thinking people who remained there, that St. Michael’s had become a very +<i>unsaintly</i>, as well as unsightly place, before I went there to reside. +</p> + +<p> +I left Baltimore for St. Michael’s in the month of March, 1833. I know +the year, because it was the one succeeding the first cholera in Baltimore, and +was the year, also, of that strange phenomenon, when the heavens seemed about +to part with its starry train. I witnessed this gorgeous spectacle, and was +awe-struck. The air seemed filled with bright, descending messengers from the +sky. It was about daybreak when I saw this sublime scene. I was not without the +suggestion, at the moment, that it might be the harbinger of the coming of the +Son of Man; and, in my then state of mind, I was prepared to hail Him as my +friend and deliverer. I had read, that the “stars shall fall from +heaven”; and they were now falling. I was suffering much in my mind. It +did seem that every time the young tendrils of my affection became attached, +they were rudely broken by some unnatural outside power; and I was beginning to +look away to heaven for the rest denied me on earth. +</p> + +<p> +But, to my story. It was now more than seven years since I had lived with +Master Thomas Auld, in the family of my old master, on Col. Lloyd’s +plantation. We were almost entire strangers to each other; for, when I knew him +at the house of my old master, it was not as a <i>master</i>, but simply as +“Captain Auld,” who had married old master’s daughter. All my +lessons concerning his temper and disposition, and the best methods of pleasing +him, were yet to be learnt. Slaveholders, however, are not very ceremonious in +approaching a slave; and my ignorance of the new material in shape of a master +was but transient. Nor was my mistress long in making known her animus. She was +not a “Miss Lucretia,” traces of whom I yet remembered, and the +more especially, as I saw them shining in the face of little Amanda, her +daughter, now living under a step-mother’s government. I had not +forgotten the soft hand, guided by a tender heart, that bound up with healing +balsam the gash made in my head by Ike, the son of Abel. Thomas and Rowena, I +found to be a well-matched pair. <i>He</i> was stingy, and <i>she</i> was +cruel; and—what was quite natural in such cases—she possessed the +ability to make him as cruel as herself, while she could easily descend to the +level of his meanness. In the house of Master Thomas, I was made—for the +first time in seven years to feel the pinchings of hunger, and this was not +very easy to bear. +</p> + +<p> +For, in all the changes of Master Hugh’s family, there was no change in +the bountifulness with which they supplied me with food. Not to give a slave +enough to eat, is meanness intensified, and it is so recognized among +slaveholders generally, in Maryland. The rule is, no matter how coarse the +food, only let there be enough of it. This is the theory, and—in the part +of Maryland I came from—the general practice accords with this theory. +Lloyd’s plantation was an exception, as was, also, the house of Master +Thomas Auld. +</p> + +<p> +All know the lightness of Indian corn-meal, as an article of food, and can +easily judge from the following facts whether the statements I have made of the +stinginess of Master Thomas, are borne out. There were four slaves of us in the +kitchen, and four whites in the great house Thomas Auld, Mrs. Auld, Hadaway +Auld (brother of Thomas Auld) and little Amanda. The names of the slaves in the +kitchen, were Eliza, my sister; Priscilla, my aunt; Henny, my cousin; and +myself. There were eight persons in the family. There was, each week, one half +bushel of corn-meal brought from the mill; and in the kitchen, corn-meal was +almost our exclusive food, for very little else was allowed us. Out of this +bushel of corn-meal, the family in the great house had a small loaf every +morning; thus leaving us, in the kitchen, with not quite a half a peck per +week, apiece. This allowance was less than half the allowance of food on +Lloyd’s plantation. It was not enough to subsist upon; and we were, +therefore, reduced to the wretched necessity of living at the expense of our +neighbors. We were compelled either to beg, or to steal, and we did both. I +frankly confess, that while I hated everything like stealing, <i>as such</i>, I +nevertheless did not hesitate to take food, when I was hungry, wherever I could +find it. Nor was this practice the mere result of an unreasoning instinct; it +was, in my case, the result of a clear apprehension of the claims of morality. +I weighed and considered the matter closely, before I ventured to satisfy my +hunger by such means. Considering that my labor and person were the property of +Master Thomas, and that I was by him deprived of the necessaries of life +necessaries obtained by my own labor—it was easy to deduce the right to +supply myself with what was my own. It was simply appropriating what was my own +to the use of my master, since the health and strength derived from such food +were exerted in <i>his</i> service. To be sure, this was stealing, according to +the law and gospel I heard from St. Michael’s pulpit; but I had already +begun to attach less importance to what dropped from that quarter, on that +point, while, as yet, I retained my reverence for religion. It was not always +convenient to steal from master, and the same reason why I might, innocently, +steal from him, did not seem to justify me in stealing from others. In the case +of my master, it was only a question of <i>removal</i>—the taking his +meat out of one tub, and putting it into another; the ownership of the meat was +not affected by the transaction. At first, he owned it in the <i>tub</i>, and +last, he owned it in <i>me</i>. His meat house was not always open. There was a +strict watch kept on that point, and the key was on a large bunch in +Rowena’s pocket. A great many times have we, poor creatures, been +severely pinched with hunger, when meat and bread have been moulding under the +lock, while the key was in the pocket of our mistress. This had been so when +she <i>knew</i> we were nearly half starved; and yet, that mistress, with +saintly air, would kneel with her husband, and pray each morning that a +merciful God would bless them in basket and in store, and save them, at last, +in his kingdom. But I proceed with the argument. +</p> + +<p> +It was necessary that right to steal from <i>others</i> should be established; +and this could only rest upon a wider range of generalization than that which +supposed the right to steal from my master. +</p> + +<p> +It was sometime before I arrived at this clear right. The reader will get some +idea of my train of reasoning, by a brief statement of the case. “I +am,” thought I, “not only the slave of Thomas, but I am the slave +of society at large. Society at large has bound itself, in form and in fact, to +assist Master Thomas in robbing me of my rightful liberty, and of the just +reward of my labor; therefore, whatever rights I have against Master Thomas, I +have, equally, against those confederated with him in robbing me of liberty. As +society has marked me out as privileged plunder, on the principle of +self-preservation I am justified in plundering in turn. Since each slave +belongs to all; all must, therefore, belong to each.” +</p> + +<p> +I shall here make a profession of faith which may shock some, offend others, +and be dissented from by all. It is this: Within the bounds of his just +earnings, I hold that the slave is fully justified in helping himself to the +<i>gold and silver, and the best apparel of his master, or that of any other +slaveholder; and that such taking is not stealing in any just sense of that +word</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The morality of <i>free</i> society can have no application to <i>slave</i> +society. Slaveholders have made it almost impossible for the slave to commit +any crime, known either to the laws of God or to the laws of man. If he steals, +he takes his own; if he kills his master, he imitates only the heroes of the +revolution. Slaveholders I hold to be individually and collectively responsible +for all the evils which grow out of the horrid relation, and I believe they +will be so held at the judgment, in the sight of a just God. Make a man a +slave, and you rob him of moral responsibility. Freedom of choice is the +essence of all accountability. But my kind readers are, probably, less +concerned about my opinions, than about that which more nearly touches my +personal experience; albeit, my opinions have, in some sort, been formed by +that experience. +</p> + +<p> +Bad as slaveholders are, I have seldom met with one so entirely destitute of +every element of character capable of inspiring respect, as was my present +master, Capt. Thomas Auld. +</p> + +<p> +When I lived with him, I thought him incapable of a noble action. The leading +trait in his character was intense selfishness. I think he was fully aware of +this fact himself, and often tried to conceal it. Capt. Auld was not a +<i>born</i> slaveholder—not a birthright member of the slaveholding +oligarchy. He was only a slaveholder by <i>marriage-right;</i> and, of all +slaveholders, these latter are, <i>by far</i>, the most exacting. There was in +him all the love of domination, the pride of mastery, and the swagger of +authority, but his rule lacked the vital element of consistency. He could be +cruel; but his methods of showing it were cowardly, and evinced his meanness +rather than his spirit. His commands were strong, his enforcement weak. +</p> + +<p> +Slaves are not insensible to the whole-souled characteristics of a generous, +dashing slaveholder, who is fearless of consequences; and they prefer a master +of this bold and daring kind—even with the risk of being shot down for +impudence to the fretful, little soul, who never uses the lash but at the +suggestion of a love of gain. +</p> + +<p> +Slaves, too, readily distinguish between the birthright bearing of the original +slaveholder and the assumed attitudes of the accidental slaveholder; and while +they cannot respect either, they certainly despise the latter more than the +former. +</p> + +<p> +The luxury of having slaves wait upon him was something new to Master Thomas; +and for it he was wholly unprepared. He was a slaveholder, without the ability +to hold or manage his slaves. We seldom called him “master,” but +generally addressed him by his “bay craft” +title—“<i>Capt. Auld</i>.” It is easy to see that such +conduct might do much to make him appear awkward, and, consequently, fretful. +His wife was especially solicitous to have us call her husband +“master.” Is your <i>master</i> at the +store?”—“Where is your <i>master</i>?”—“Go +and tell your <i>master”</i>—“I will make your <i>master</i> +acquainted with your conduct”—she would say; but we were inapt +scholars. Especially were I and my sister Eliza inapt in this particular. Aunt +Priscilla was less stubborn and defiant in her spirit than Eliza and myself; +and, I think, her road was less rough than ours. +</p> + +<p> +In the month of August, 1833, when I had almost become desperate under the +treatment of Master Thomas, and when I entertained more strongly than ever the +oft-repeated determination to run away, a circumstance occurred which seemed to +promise brighter and better days for us all. At a Methodist camp-meeting, held +in the Bay Side (a famous place for campmeetings) about eight miles from St. +Michael’s, Master Thomas came out with a profession of religion. He had +long been an object of interest to the church, and to the ministers, as I had +seen by the repeated visits and lengthy exhortations of the latter. He was a +fish quite worth catching, for he had money and standing. In the community of +St. Michael’s he was equal to the best citizen. He was strictly +temperate; <i>perhaps</i>, from principle, but most likely, from interest. +There was very little to do for him, to give him the appearance of piety, and +to make him a pillar in the church. Well, the camp-meeting continued a week; +people gathered from all parts of the county, and two steamboat loads came from +Baltimore. The ground was happily chosen; seats were arranged; a stand erected; +a rude altar fenced in, fronting the preachers’ stand, with straw in it +for the accommodation of mourners. This latter would hold at least one hundred +persons. In front, and on the sides of the preachers’ stand, and outside +the long rows of seats, rose the first class of stately tents, each vieing with +the other in strength, neatness, and capacity for accommodating its inmates. +Behind this first circle of tents was another, less imposing, which reached +round the camp-ground to the speakers’ stand. Outside this second class +of tents were covered wagons, ox carts, and vehicles of every shape and size. +These served as tents to their owners. Outside of these, huge fires were +burning, in all directions, where roasting, and boiling, and frying, were going +on, for the benefit of those who were attending to their own spiritual welfare +within the circle. <i>Behind</i> the preachers’ stand, a narrow space was +marked out for the use of the colored people. There were no seats provided for +this class of persons; the preachers addressed them, <i>“over the +left,”</i> if they addressed them at all. After the preaching was over, +at every service, an invitation was given to mourners to come into the pen; +and, in some cases, ministers went out to persuade men and women to come in. By +one of these ministers, Master Thomas Auld was persuaded to go inside the pen. +I was deeply interested in that matter, and followed; and, though colored +people were not allowed either in the pen or in front of the preachers’ +stand, I ventured to take my stand at a sort of half-way place between the +blacks and whites, where I could distinctly see the movements of mourners, and +especially the progress of Master Thomas. +</p> + +<p> +“If he has got religion,” thought I, “he will emancipate his +slaves; and if he should not do so much as this, he will, at any rate, behave +toward us more kindly, and feed us more generously than he has heretofore +done.” Appealing to my own religious experience, and judging my master by +what was true in my own case, I could not regard him as soundly converted, +unless some such good results followed his profession of religion. +</p> + +<p> +But in my expectations I was doubly disappointed; Master Thomas was <i>Master +Thomas</i> still. The fruits of his righteousness were to show themselves in no +such way as I had anticipated. His conversion was not to change his relation +toward men—at any rate not toward BLACK men—but toward God. My +faith, I confess, was not great. There was something in his appearance that, in +my mind, cast a doubt over his conversion. Standing where I did, I could see +his every movement. I watched narrowly while he remained in the little pen; and +although I saw that his face was extremely red, and his hair disheveled, and +though I heard him groan, and saw a stray tear halting on his cheek, as if +inquiring “which way shall I go?”—I could not wholly confide +in the genuineness of his conversion. The hesitating behavior of that tear-drop +and its loneliness, distressed me, and cast a doubt upon the whole transaction, +of which it was a part. But people said, <i>“Capt. Auld had come +through,”</i> and it was for me to hope for the best. I was bound to do +this, in charity, for I, too, was religious, and had been in the church full +three years, although now I was not more than sixteen years old. Slaveholders +may, sometimes, have confidence in the piety of some of their slaves; but the +slaves seldom have confidence in the piety of their masters. <i>“He cant +go to heaven with our blood in his skirts</i>,” is a settled point in the +creed of every slave; rising superior to all teaching to the contrary, and +standing forever as a fixed fact. The highest evidence the slaveholder can give +the slave of his acceptance with God, is the emancipation of his slaves. This +is proof that he is willing to give up all to God, and for the sake of God. Not +to do this, was, in my estimation, and in the opinion of all the slaves, an +evidence of half-heartedness, and wholly inconsistent with the idea of genuine +conversion. I had read, also, somewhere in the Methodist Discipline, the +following question and answer: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Question</i>. What shall be done for the extirpation of slavery? +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Answer</i>. We declare that we are much as ever convinced of the +great evil of slavery; therefore, no slaveholder shall be eligible to any +official station in our church.” +</p> + +<p> +These words sounded in my ears for a long time, and encouraged me to hope. But, +as I have before said, I was doomed to disappointment. Master Thomas seemed to +be aware of my hopes and expectations concerning him. I have thought, before +now, that he looked at me in answer to my glances, as much as to say, “I +will teach you, young man, that, though I have parted with my sins, I have not +parted with my sense. I shall hold my slaves, and go to heaven too.” +</p> + +<p> +Possibly, to convince us that we must not presume <i>too much</i> upon his +recent conversion, he became rather more rigid and stringent in his exactions. +There always was a scarcity of good nature about the man; but now his whole +countenance was <i>soured</i> over with the seemings of piety. His religion, +therefore, neither made him emancipate his slaves, nor caused him to treat them +with greater humanity. If religion had any effect on his character at all, it +made him more cruel and hateful in all his ways. The natural wickedness of his +heart had not been removed, but only reinforced, by the profession of religion. +Do I judge him harshly? God forbid. Facts <i>are</i> facts. Capt. Auld made the +greatest profession of piety. His house was, literally, a house of prayer. In +the morning, and in the evening, loud prayers and hymns were heard there, in +which both himself and his wife joined; yet, <i>no more meal</i> was brought +from the mill, <i>no more attention</i> was paid to the moral welfare of the +kitchen; and nothing was done to make us feel that the heart of Master Thomas +was one whit better than it was before he went into the little pen, opposite to +the preachers’ stand, on the camp ground. +</p> + +<p> +Our hopes (founded on the discipline) soon vanished; for the authorities let +him into the church <i>at once</i>, and before he was out of his term of +<i>probation</i>, I heard of his leading class! He distinguished himself +greatly among the brethren, and was soon an exhorter. His progress was almost +as rapid as the growth of the fabled vine of Jack’s bean. No man was more +active than he, in revivals. He would go many miles to assist in carrying them +on, and in getting outsiders interested in religion. His house being one of the +holiest, if not the happiest in St. Michael’s, became the +“preachers’ home.” These preachers evidently liked to share +Master Thomas’s hospitality; for while he <i>starved us</i>, he +<i>stuffed</i> them. Three or four of these ambassadors of the +gospel—according to slavery—have been there at a time; all living +on the fat of the land, while we, in the kitchen, were nearly starving. Not +often did we get a smile of recognition from these holy men. They seemed almost +as unconcerned about our getting to heaven, as they were about our getting out +of slavery. To this general charge there was one exception—the Rev. +GEORGE COOKMAN. Unlike Rev. Messrs. Storks, Ewry, Hickey, Humphrey and Cooper +(all whom were on the St. Michael’s circuit) he kindly took an interest +in our temporal and spiritual welfare. Our souls and our bodies were all alike +sacred in his sight; and he really had a good deal of genuine anti-slavery +feeling mingled with his colonization ideas. There was not a slave in our +neighborhood that did not love, and almost venerate, Mr. Cookman. It was pretty +generally believed that he had been chiefly instrumental in bringing one of the +largest slaveholders—Mr. Samuel Harrison—in that neighborhood, to +emancipate all his slaves, and, indeed, the general impression was, that Mr. +Cookman had labored faithfully with slaveholders, whenever he met them, to +induce them to emancipate their bondmen, and that he did this as a religious +duty. When this good man was at our house, we were all sure to be called in to +prayers in the morning; and he was not slow in making inquiries as to the state +of our minds, nor in giving us a word of exhortation and of encouragement. +Great was the sorrow of all the slaves, when this faithful preacher of the +gospel was removed from the Talbot county circuit. He was an eloquent preacher, +and possessed what few ministers, south of Mason Dixon’s line, possess, +or <i>dare</i> to show, viz: a warm and philanthropic heart. The Mr. Cookman, +of whom I speak, was an Englishman by birth, and perished while on his way to +England, on board the ill-fated “President”. Could the thousands of +slaves in Maryland know the fate of the good man, to whose words of comfort +they were so largely indebted, they would thank me for dropping a tear on this +page, in memory of their favorite preacher, friend and benefactor. +</p> + +<p> +But, let me return to Master Thomas, and to my experience, after his +conversion. In Baltimore, I could, occasionally, get into a Sabbath school, +among the free children, and receive lessons, with the rest; but, having +already learned both to read and to write, I was more of a teacher than a +pupil, even there. When, however, I went back to the Eastern Shore, and was at +the house of Master Thomas, I was neither allowed to teach, nor to be taught. +The whole community—with but a single exception, among the +whites—frowned upon everything like imparting instruction either to +slaves or to free colored persons. That single exception, a pious young man, +named Wilson, asked me, one day, if I would like to assist him in teaching a +little Sabbath school, at the house of a free colored man in St. +Michael’s, named James Mitchell. The idea was to me a delightful one, and +I told him I would gladly devote as much of my Sabbath as I could command, to +that most laudable work. Mr. Wilson soon mustered up a dozen old spelling +books, and a few testaments; and we commenced operations, with some twenty +scholars, in our Sunday school. Here, thought I, is something worth living for; +here is an excellent chance for usefulness; and I shall soon have a company of +young friends, lovers of knowledge, like some of my Baltimore friends, from +whom I now felt parted forever. +</p> + +<p> +Our first Sabbath passed delightfully, and I spent the week after very +joyously. I could not go to Baltimore, but I could make a little Baltimore +here. At our second meeting, I learned that there was some objection to the +existence of the Sabbath school; and, sure enough, we had scarcely got at +work—<i>good work</i>, simply teaching a few colored children how to read +the gospel of the Son of God—when in rushed a mob, headed by Mr. Wright +Fairbanks and Mr. Garrison West—two class-leaders—and Master +Thomas; who, armed with sticks and other missiles, drove us off, and commanded +us never to meet for such a purpose again. One of this pious crew told me, that +as for my part, I wanted to be another Nat Turner; and if I did not look out, I +should get as many balls into me, as Nat did into him. Thus ended the infant +Sabbath school, in the town of St. Michael’s. The reader will not be +surprised when I say, that the breaking up of my Sabbath school, by these +class-leaders, and professedly holy men, did not serve to strengthen my +religious convictions. The cloud over my St. Michael’s home grew heavier +and blacker than ever. +</p> + +<p> +It was not merely the agency of Master Thomas, in breaking up and destroying my +Sabbath school, that shook my confidence in the power of southern religion to +make men wiser or better; but I saw in him all the cruelty and meanness, +<i>after</i> his conversion, which he had exhibited before he made a profession +of religion. His cruelty and meanness were especially displayed in his +treatment of my unfortunate cousin, Henny, whose lameness made her a burden to +him. I have no extraordinary personal hard usage toward myself to complain of, +against him, but I have seen him tie up the lame and maimed woman, and whip her +in a manner most brutal, and shocking; and then, with blood-chilling blasphemy, +he would quote the passage of scripture, “That servant which knew his +lord’s will, and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, +shall be beaten with many stripes.” Master would keep this lacerated +woman tied up by her wrists, to a bolt in the joist, three, four and five hours +at a time. He would tie her up early in the morning, whip her with a cowskin +before breakfast; leave her tied up; go to his store, and, returning to his +dinner, repeat the castigation; laying on the rugged lash, on flesh already +made raw by repeated blows. He seemed desirous to get the poor girl out of +existence, or, at any rate, off his hands. In proof of this, he afterwards gave +her away to his sister Sarah (Mrs. Cline) but, as in the case of Master Hugh, +Henny was soon returned on his hands. Finally, upon a pretense that he could do +nothing with her (I use his own words) he “set her adrift, to take care +of herself.” Here was a recently converted man, holding, with tight +grasp, the well-framed, and able bodied slaves left him by old master—the +persons, who, in freedom, could have taken care of themselves; yet, turning +loose the only cripple among them, virtually to starve and die. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt, had Master Thomas been asked, by some pious northern brother, +<i>why</i> he continued to sustain the relation of a slaveholder, to those whom +he retained, his answer would have been precisely the same as many other +religious slaveholders have returned to that inquiry, viz: “I hold my +slaves for their own good.” +</p> + +<p> +Bad as my condition was when I lived with Master Thomas, I was soon to +experience a life far more goading and bitter. The many differences springing +up between myself and Master Thomas, owing to the clear perception I had of his +character, and the boldness with which I defended myself against his capricious +complaints, led him to declare that I was unsuited to his wants; that my city +life had affected me perniciously; that, in fact, it had almost ruined me for +every good purpose, and had fitted me for everything that was bad. One of my +greatest faults, or offenses, was that of letting his horse get away, and go +down to the farm belonging to his father-in-law. The animal had a liking for +that farm, with which I fully sympathized. Whenever I let it out, it would go +dashing down the road to Mr. Hamilton’s, as if going on a grand frolic. +My horse gone, of course I must go after it. The explanation of our mutual +attachment to the place is the same; the horse found there good pasturage, and +I found there plenty of bread. Mr. Hamilton had his faults, but starving his +slaves was not among them. He gave food, in abundance, and that, too, of an +excellent quality. In Mr. Hamilton’s cook—Aunt Mary—I found a +most generous and considerate friend. She never allowed me to go there without +giving me bread enough to make good the deficiencies of a day or two. Master +Thomas at last resolved to endure my behavior no longer; he could neither keep +me, nor his horse, we liked so well to be at his father-in-law’s farm. I +had now lived with him nearly nine months, and he had given me a number of +severe whippings, without any visible improvement in my character, or my +conduct; and now he was resolved to put me out—as he +said—“<i>to be broken.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +There was, in the Bay Side, very near the camp ground, where my master got his +religious impressions, a man named Edward Covey, who enjoyed the execrated +reputation, of being a first rate hand at breaking young Negroes. This Covey +was a poor man, a farm renter; and this reputation (hateful as it was to the +slaves and to all good men) was, at the same time, of immense advantage to him. +It enabled him to get his farm tilled with very little expense, compared with +what it would have cost him without this most extraordinary reputation. Some +slaveholders thought it an advantage to let Mr. Covey have the government of +their slaves a year or two, almost free of charge, for the sake of the +excellent training such slaves got under his happy management! Like some horse +breakers, noted for their skill, who ride the best horses in the country +without expense, Mr. Covey could have under him, the most fiery bloods of the +neighborhood, for the simple reward of returning them to their owners, <i>well +broken</i>. Added to the natural fitness of Mr. Covey for the duties of his +profession, he was said to “enjoy religion,” and was as strict in +the cultivation of piety, as he was in the cultivation of his farm. I was made +aware of his character by some who had been under his hand; and while I could +not look forward to going to him with any pleasure, I was glad to get away from +St. Michael’s. I was sure of getting enough to eat at Covey’s, even +if I suffered in other respects. <i>This</i>, to a hungry man, is not a +prospect to be regarded with indifference. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"></a> +CHAPTER XV. <i>Covey, the Negro Breaker</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +JOURNEY TO MY NEW MASTER’S—MEDITATIONS BY THE WAY—VIEW OF +COVEY’S RESIDENCE—THE FAMILY—MY AWKWARDNESS AS A FIELD +HAND—A CRUEL BEATING—WHY IT WAS GIVEN—DESCRIPTION OF +COVEY—FIRST ADVENTURE AT OX DRIVING—HAIR BREADTH ESCAPES—OX +AND MAN ALIKE PROPERTY—COVEY’S MANNER OF PROCEEDING TO +WHIP—HARD LABOR BETTER THAN THE WHIP FOR BREAKING DOWN THE +SPIRIT—CUNNING AND TRICKERY OF COVEY—FAMILY WORSHIP—SHOCKING +CONTEMPT FOR CHASTITY—I AM BROKEN DOWN—GREAT MENTAL AGITATION IN +CONTRASTING THE FREEDOM OF THE SHIPS WITH HIS OWN SLAVERY—ANGUISH BEYOND +DESCRIPTION. +</p> + +<p> +The morning of the first of January, 1834, with its chilling wind and pinching +frost, quite in harmony with the winter in my own mind, found me, with my +little bundle of clothing on the end of a stick, swung across my shoulder, on +the main road, bending my way toward Covey’s, whither I had been +imperiously ordered by Master Thomas. The latter had been as good as his word, +and had committed me, without reserve, to the mastery of Mr. Edward Covey. +Eight or ten years had now passed since I had been taken from my +grandmother’s cabin, in Tuckahoe; and these years, for the most part, I +had spent in Baltimore, where—as the reader has already seen—I was +treated with comparative tenderness. I was now about to sound profounder depths +in slave life. The rigors of a field, less tolerable than the field of battle, +awaited me. My new master was notorious for his fierce and savage disposition, +and my only consolation in going to live with him was, the certainty of finding +him precisely as represented by common fame. There was neither joy in my heart, +nor elasticity in my step, as I started in search of the tyrant’s home. +Starvation made me glad to leave Thomas Auld’s, and the cruel lash made +me dread to go to Covey’s. Escape was impossible; so, heavy and sad, I +paced the seven miles, which separated Covey’s house from St. +Michael’s—thinking much by the solitary way—averse to my +condition; but <i>thinking</i> was all I could do. Like a fish in a net, +allowed to play for a time, I was now drawn rapidly to the shore, secured at +all points. “I am,” thought I, “but the sport of a power +which makes no account, either of my welfare or of my happiness. By a law which +I can clearly comprehend, but cannot evade nor resist, I am ruthlessly snatched +from the hearth of a fond grandmother, and hurried away to the home of a +mysterious ‘old master;’ again I am removed from there, to a master +in Baltimore; thence am I snatched away to the Eastern Shore, to be valued with +the beasts of the field, and, with them, divided and set apart for a possessor; +then I am sent back to Baltimore; and by the time I have formed new +attachments, and have begun to hope that no more rude shocks shall touch me, a +difference arises between brothers, and I am again broken up, and sent to St. +Michael’s; and now, from the latter place, I am footing my way to the +home of a new master, where, I am given to understand, that, like a wild young +working animal, I am to be broken to the yoke of a bitter and life-long +bondage.” +</p> + +<p> +With thoughts and reflections like these, I came in sight of a small +wood-colored building, about a mile from the main road, which, from the +description I had received, at starting, I easily recognized as my new home. +The Chesapeake bay—upon the jutting banks of which the little +wood-colored house was standing—white with foam, raised by the heavy +north-west wind; Poplar Island, covered with a thick, black pine forest, +standing out amid this half ocean; and Kent Point, stretching its sandy, +desert-like shores out into the foam-cested bay—were all in sight, and +deepened the wild and desolate aspect of my new home. +</p> + +<p> +The good clothes I had brought with me from Baltimore were now worn thin, and +had not been replaced; for Master Thomas was as little careful to provide us +against cold, as against hunger. Met here by a north wind, sweeping through an +open space of forty miles, I was glad to make any port; and, therefore, I +speedily pressed on to the little wood-colored house. The family consisted of +Mr. and Mrs. Covey; Miss Kemp (a broken-backed woman) a sister of Mrs. Covey; +William Hughes, cousin to Edward Covey; Caroline, the cook; Bill Smith, a hired +man; and myself. Bill Smith, Bill Hughes, and myself, were the working force of +the farm, which consisted of three or four hundred acres. I was now, for the +first time in my life, to be a field hand; and in my new employment I found +myself even more awkward than a green country boy may be supposed to be, upon +his first entrance into the bewildering scenes of city life; and my awkwardness +gave me much trouble. Strange and unnatural as it may seem, I had been at my +new home but three days, before Mr. Covey (my brother in the Methodist church) +gave me a bitter foretaste of what was in reserve for me. I presume he thought, +that since he had but a single year in which to complete his work, the sooner +he began, the better. Perhaps he thought that by coming to blows at once, we +should mutually better understand our relations. But to whatever motive, direct +or indirect, the cause may be referred, I had not been in his possession three +whole days, before he subjected me to a most brutal chastisement. Under his +heavy blows, blood flowed freely, and wales were left on my back as large as my +little finger. The sores on my back, from this flogging, continued for weeks, +for they were kept open by the rough and coarse cloth which I wore for +shirting. The occasion and details of this first chapter of my experience as a +field hand, must be told, that the reader may see how unreasonable, as well as +how cruel, my new master, Covey, was. The whole thing I found to be +characteristic of the man; and I was probably treated no worse by him than +scores of lads who had previously been committed to him, for reasons similar to +those which induced my master to place me with him. But, here are the facts +connected with the affair, precisely as they occurred. +</p> + +<p> +On one of the coldest days of the whole month of January, 1834, I was ordered, +at day break, to get a load of wood, from a forest about two miles from the +house. In order to perform this work, Mr. Covey gave me a pair of unbroken +oxen, for, it seems, his breaking abilities had not been turned in this +direction; and I may remark, in passing, that working animals in the south, are +seldom so well trained as in the north. In due form, and with all proper +ceremony, I was introduced to this huge yoke of unbroken oxen, and was +carefully told which was “Buck,” and which was +“Darby”—which was the “in hand,” and which was +the “off hand” ox. The master of this important ceremony was no +less a person than Mr. Covey, himself; and the introduction was the first of +the kind I had ever had. My life, hitherto, had led me away from horned cattle, +and I had no knowledge of the art of managing them. What was meant by the +“in ox,” as against the “off ox,” when both were +equally fastened to one cart, and under one yoke, I could not very easily +divine; and the difference, implied by the names, and the peculiar duties of +each, were alike <i>Greek</i> to me. Why was not the “off ox” +called the “in ox?” Where and what is the reason for this +distinction in names, when there is none in the things themselves? After +initiating me into the <i>“woa,” “back” +“gee,” “hither”</i>—the entire spoken language +between oxen and driver—Mr. Covey took a rope, about ten feet long and +one inch thick, and placed one end of it around the horns of the “in hand +ox,” and gave the other end to me, telling me that if the oxen started to +run away, as the scamp knew they would, I must hold on to the rope and stop +them. I need not tell any one who is acquainted with either the strength of the +disposition of an untamed ox, that this order was about as unreasonable as a +command to shoulder a mad bull! I had never driven oxen before, and I was as +awkward, as a driver, as it is possible to conceive. It did not answer for me +to plead ignorance, to Mr. Covey; there was something in his manner that quite +forbade that. He was a man to whom a slave seldom felt any disposition to +speak. Cold, distant, morose, with a face wearing all the marks of captious +pride and malicious sternness, he repelled all advances. Covey was not a large +man; he was only about five feet ten inches in height, I should think; short +necked, round shoulders; of quick and wiry motion, of thin and wolfish visage; +with a pair of small, greenish-gray eyes, set well back under a forehead +without dignity, and constantly in motion, and floating his passions, rather +than his thoughts, in sight, but denying them utterance in words. The creature +presented an appearance altogether ferocious and sinister, disagreeable and +forbidding, in the extreme. When he spoke, it was from the corner of his mouth, +and in a sort of light growl, like a dog, when an attempt is made to take a +bone from him. The fellow had already made me believe him even <i>worse</i> +than he had been presented. With his directions, and without stopping to +question, I started for the woods, quite anxious to perform my first exploit in +driving, in a creditable manner. The distance from the house to the woods gate +a full mile, I should think—was passed over with very little difficulty; +for although the animals ran, I was fleet enough, in the open field, to keep +pace with them; especially as they pulled me along at the end of the rope; but, +on reaching the woods, I was speedily thrown into a distressing plight. The +animals took fright, and started off ferociously into the woods, carrying the +cart, full tilt, against trees, over stumps, and dashing from side to side, in +a manner altogether frightful. As I held the rope, I expected every moment to +be crushed between the cart and the huge trees, among which they were so +furiously dashing. After running thus for several minutes, my oxen were, +finally, brought to a stand, by a tree, against which they dashed themselves +with great violence, upsetting the cart, and entangling themselves among sundry +young saplings. By the shock, the body of the cart was flung in one direction, +and the wheels and tongue in another, and all in the greatest confusion. There +I was, all alone, in a thick wood, to which I was a stranger; my cart upset and +shattered; my oxen entangled, wild, and enraged; and I, poor soul! but a green +hand, to set all this disorder right. I knew no more of oxen than the ox driver +is supposed to know of wisdom. After standing a few moments surveying the +damage and disorder, and not without a presentiment that this trouble would +draw after it others, even more distressing, I took one end of the cart body, +and, by an extra outlay of strength, I lifted it toward the axle-tree, from +which it had been violently flung; and after much pulling and straining, I +succeeded in getting the body of the cart in its place. This was an important +step out of the difficulty, and its performance increased my courage for the +work which remained to be done. The cart was provided with an ax, a tool with +which I had become pretty well acquainted in the ship yard at Baltimore. With +this, I cut down the saplings by which my oxen were entangled, and again +pursued my journey, with my heart in my mouth, lest the oxen should again take +it into their senseless heads to cut up a caper. My fears were groundless. +Their spree was over for the present, and the rascals now moved off as soberly +as though their behavior had been natural and exemplary. On reaching the part +of the forest where I had been, the day before, chopping wood, I filled the +cart with a heavy load, as a security against another running away. But, the +neck of an ox is equal in strength to iron. It defies all ordinary burdens, +when excited. Tame and docile to a proverb, when <i>well</i> trained, the ox is +the most sullen and intractable of animals when but half broken to the yoke. +</p> + +<p> +I now saw, in my situation, several points of similarity with that of the oxen. +They were property, so was I; they were to be broken, so was I. Covey was to +break me, I was to break them; break and be broken—such is life. +</p> + +<p> +Half the day already gone, and my face not yet homeward! It required only two +day’s experience and observation to teach me, that such apparent waste of +time would not be lightly overlooked by Covey. I therefore hurried toward home; +but, on reaching the lane gate, I met with the crowning disaster for the day. +This gate was a fair specimen of southern handicraft. There were two huge +posts, eighteen inches in diameter, rough hewed and square, and the heavy gate +was so hung on one of these, that it opened only about half the proper +distance. On arriving here, it was necessary for me to let go the end of the +rope on the horns of the “in hand ox;” and now as soon as the gate +was open, and I let go of it to get the rope, again, off went my +oxen—making nothing of their load—full tilt; and in doing so they +caught the huge gate between the wheel and the cart body, literally crushing it +to splinters, and coming only within a few inches of subjecting me to a similar +crushing, for I was just in advance of the wheel when it struck the left gate +post. With these two hair-breadth escape, I thought I could sucessfully(sic) +explain to Mr. Covey the delay, and avert apprehended punishment. I was not +without a faint hope of being commended for the stern resolution which I had +displayed in accomplishing the difficult task—a task which, I afterwards +learned, even Covey himself would not have undertaken, without first driving +the oxen for some time in the open field, preparatory to their going into the +woods. But, in this I was disappointed. On coming to him, his countenance +assumed an aspect of rigid displeasure, and, as I gave him a history of the +casualties of my trip, his wolfish face, with his greenish eyes, became +intensely ferocious. “Go back to the woods again,” he said, +muttering something else about wasting time. I hastily obeyed; but I had not +gone far on my way, when I saw him coming after me. My oxen now behaved +themselves with singular propriety, opposing their present conduct to my +representation of their former antics. I almost wished, now that Covey was +coming, they would do something in keeping with the character I had given them; +but no, they had already had their spree, and they could afford now to be extra +good, readily obeying my orders, and seeming to understand them quite as well +as I did myself. On reaching the woods, my tormentor—who seemed all the +way to be remarking upon the good behavior of his oxen—came up to me, and +ordered me to stop the cart, accompanying the same with the threat that he +would now teach me how to break gates, and idle away my time, when he sent me +to the woods. Suiting the action to the word, Covey paced off, in his own wiry +fashion, to a large, black gum tree, the young shoots of which are generally +used for ox <i>goads</i>, they being exceedingly tough. Three of these +<i>goads</i>, from four to six feet long, he cut off, and trimmed up, with his +large jack-knife. This done, he ordered me to take off my clothes. To this +unreasonable order I made no reply, but sternly refused to take off my +clothing. “If you will beat me,” thought I, “you shall do so +over my clothes.” After many threats, which made no impression on me, he +rushed at me with something of the savage fierceness of a wolf, tore off the +few and thinly worn clothes I had on, and proceeded to wear out, on my back, +the heavy goads which he had cut from the gum tree. This flogging was the first +of a series of floggings; and though very severe, it was less so than many +which came after it, and these, for offenses far lighter than the gate +breaking. +</p> + +<p> +I remained with Mr. Covey one year (I cannot say I <i>lived</i> with him) and +during the first six months that I was there, I was whipped, either with sticks +or cowskins, every week. Aching bones and a sore back were my constant +companions. Frequent as the lash was used, Mr. Covey thought less of it, as a +means of breaking down my spirit, than that of hard and long continued labor. +He worked me steadily, up to the point of my powers of endurance. From the dawn +of day in the morning, till the darkness was complete in the evening, I was +kept at hard work, in the field or the woods. At certain seasons of the year, +we were all kept in the field till eleven and twelve o’clock at night. At +these times, Covey would attend us in the field, and urge us on with words or +blows, as it seemed best to him. He had, in his life, been an overseer, and he +well understood the business of slave driving. There was no deceiving him. He +knew just what a man or boy could do, and he held both to strict account. When +he pleased, he would work himself, like a very Turk, making everything fly +before him. It was, however, scarcely necessary for Mr. Covey to be really +present in the field, to have his work go on industriously. He had the faculty +of making us feel that he was always present. By a series of adroitly managed +surprises, which he practiced, I was prepared to expect him at any moment. His +plan was, never to approach the spot where his hands were at work, in an open, +manly and direct manner. No thief was ever more artful in his devices than this +man Covey. He would creep and crawl, in ditches and gullies; hide behind stumps +and bushes, and practice so much of the cunning of the serpent, that Bill Smith +and I—between ourselves—never called him by any other name than +<i>“the snake.”</i> We fancied that in his eyes and his gait we +could see a snakish resemblance. One half of his proficiency in the art of +Negro breaking, consisted, I should think, in this species of cunning. We were +never secure. He could see or hear us nearly all the time. He was, to us, +behind every stump, tree, bush and fence on the plantation. He carried this +kind of trickery so far, that he would sometimes mount his horse, and make +believe he was going to St. Michael’s; and, in thirty minutes afterward, +you might find his horse tied in the woods, and the snake-like Covey lying flat +in the ditch, with his head lifted above its edge, or in a fence corner, +watching every movement of the slaves! I have known him walk up to us and give +us special orders, as to our work, in advance, as if he were leaving home with +a view to being absent several days; and before he got half way to the house, +he would avail himself of our inattention to his movements, to turn short on +his heels, conceal himself behind a fence corner or a tree, and watch us until +the going down of the sun. Mean and contemptible as is all this, it is in +keeping with the character which the life of a slaveholder is calculated to +produce. There is no earthly inducement, in the slave’s condition, to +incite him to labor faithfully. The fear of punishment is the sole motive for +any sort of industry, with him. Knowing this fact, as the slaveholder does, and +judging the slave by himself, he naturally concludes the slave will be idle +whenever the cause for this fear is absent. Hence, all sorts of petty +deceptions are practiced, to inspire this fear. +</p> + +<p> +But, with Mr. Covey, trickery was natural. Everything in the shape of learning +or religion, which he possessed, was made to conform to this semi-lying +propensity. He did not seem conscious that the practice had anything unmanly, +base or contemptible about it. It was a part of an important system, with him, +essential to the relation of master and slave. I thought I saw, in his very +religious devotions, this controlling element of his character. A long prayer +at night made up for the short prayer in the morning; and few men could seem +more devotional than he, when he had nothing else to do. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Covey was not content with the cold style of family worship, adopted in +these cold latitudes, which begin and end with a simple prayer. No! the voice +of praise, as well as of prayer, must be heard in his house, night and morning. +At first, I was called upon to bear some part in these exercises; but the +repeated flogging given me by Covey, turned the whole thing into mockery. He +was a poor singer, and mainly relied on me for raising the hymn for the family, +and when I failed to do so, he was thrown into much confusion. I do not think +that he ever abused me on account of these vexations. His religion was a thing +altogether apart from his worldly concerns. He knew nothing of it as a holy +principle, directing and controlling his daily life, making the latter conform +to the requirements of the gospel. One or two facts will illustrate his +character better than a volume of generalties(sic). +</p> + +<p> +I have already said, or implied, that Mr. Edward Covey was a poor man. He was, +in fact, just commencing to lay the foundation of his fortune, as fortune is +regarded in a slave state. The first condition of wealth and respectability +there, being the ownership of human property, every nerve is strained, by the +poor man, to obtain it, and very little regard is had to the manner of +obtaining it. In pursuit of this object, pious as Mr. Covey was, he proved +himself to be as unscrupulous and base as the worst of his neighbors. In the +beginning, he was only able—as he said—“to buy one +slave;” and, scandalous and shocking as is the fact, he boasted that he +bought her simply “<i>as a breeder</i>.” But the worst is not told +in this naked statement. This young woman (Caroline was her name) was virtually +compelled by Mr. Covey to abandon herself to the object for which he had +purchased her; and the result was, the birth of twins at the end of the year. +At this addition to his human stock, both Edward Covey and his wife, Susan, +were ecstatic with joy. No one dreamed of reproaching the woman, or of finding +fault with the hired man—Bill Smith—the father of the children, for +Mr. Covey himself had locked the two up together every night, thus inviting the +result. +</p> + +<p> +But I will pursue this revolting subject no further. No better illustration of +the unchaste and demoralizing character of slavery can be found, than is +furnished in the fact that this professedly Christian slaveholder, amidst all +his prayers and hymns, was shamelessly and boastfully encouraging, and actually +compelling, in his own house, undisguised and unmitigated fornication, as a +means of increasing his human stock. I may remark here, that, while this fact +will be read with disgust and shame at the north, it will be <i>laughed at</i>, +as smart and praiseworthy in Mr. Covey, at the south; for a man is no more +condemned there for buying a woman and devoting her to this life of dishonor, +than for buying a cow, and raising stock from her. The same rules are observed, +with a view to increasing the number and quality of the former, as of the +latter. +</p> + +<p> +I will here reproduce what I said of my own experience in this wretched place, +more than ten years ago: +</p> + +<p> +If at any one time of my life, more than another, I was made to drink the +bitterest dregs of slavery, that time was during the first six months of my +stay with Mr. Covey. We were worked all weathers. It was never too hot or too +cold; it could never rain, blow, snow, or hail too hard for us to work in the +field. Work, work, work, was scarcely more the order of the day than the night. +The longest days were too short for him, and the shortest nights were too long +for him. I was somewhat unmanageable when I first went there; but a few months +of his discipline tamed me. Mr. Covey succeeded in breaking me. I was broken in +body, soul and spirit. My natural elasticity was crushed; my intellect +languished; the disposition to read departed; the cheerful spark that lingered +about my eye died; the dark night of slavery closed in upon me; and behold a +man transformed into a brute! +</p> + +<p> +Sunday was my only leisure time. I spent this in a sort of beast-like stupor, +between sleep and wake, under some large tree. At times, I would rise up, a +flash of energetic freedom would dart through my soul, accompanied with a faint +beam of hope, flickered for a moment, and then vanished. I sank down again, +mourning over my wretched condition. I was sometimes prompted to take my life, +and that of Covey, but was prevented by a combination of hope and fear. My +sufferings on this plantation seem now like a dream rather than a stern +reality. +</p> + +<p> +Our house stood within a few rods of the Chesapeake bay, whose broad bosom was +ever white with sails from every quarter of the habitable globe. Those +beautiful vessels, robed in purest white, so delightful to the eye of freemen, +were to me so many shrouded ghosts, to terrify and torment me with thoughts of +my wretched condition. I have often, in the deep stillness of a summer’s +Sabbath, stood all alone upon the banks of that noble bay, and traced, with +saddened heart and tearful eye, the countless number of sails moving off to the +mighty ocean. The sight of these always affected me powerfully. My thoughts +would compel utterance; and there, with no audience but the Almighty, I would +pour out my soul’s complaint in my rude way, with an apostrophe to the +moving multitude of ships: +</p> + +<p> +“You are loosed from your moorings, and free; I am fast in my chains, and +am a slave! You move merrily before the gentle gale, and I sadly before the +bloody whip! You are freedom’s swift-winged angels, that fly around the +world; I am confined in bands of iron! O, that I were free! O, that I were on +one of your gallant decks, and under your protecting wing! Alas! betwixt me and +you the turbid waters roll. Go on, go on. O that I could also go! Could I but +swim! If I could fly! O, why was I born a man, of whom to make a brute! The +glad ship is gone; she hides in the dim distance. I am left in the hottest hell +of unending slavery. O God, save me! God, deliver me! Let me be free! Is there +any God? Why am I a slave? I will run away. I will not stand it. Get caught, or +get clear, I’ll try it. I had as well die with ague as with fever. I have +only one life to lose. I had as well be killed running as die standing. Only +think of it; one hundred miles straight north, and I am free! Try it? Yes! God +helping me, I will. It cannot be that I shall live and die a slave. I will take +to the water. This very bay shall yet bear me into freedom. The steamboats +steered in a north-east coast from North Point. I will do the same; and when I +get to the head of the bay, I will turn my canoe adrift, and walk straight +through Delaware into Pennsylvania. When I get there, I shall not be required +to have a pass; I will travel without being disturbed. Let but the first +opportunity offer, and come what will, I am off. Meanwhile, I will try to bear +up under the yoke. I am not the only slave in the world. Why should I fret? I +can bear as much as any of them. Besides, I am but a boy, and all boys are +bound to some one. It may be that my misery in slavery will only increase my +happiness when I get free. There is a better day coming.” +</p> + +<p> +I shall never be able to narrate the mental experience through which it was my +lot to pass during my stay at Covey’s. I was completely wrecked, changed +and bewildered; goaded almost to madness at one time, and at another +reconciling myself to my wretched condition. Everything in the way of kindness, +which I had experienced at Baltimore; all my former hopes and aspirations for +usefulness in the world, and the happy moments spent in the exercises of +religion, contrasted with my then present lot, but increased my anguish. +</p> + +<p> +I suffered bodily as well as mentally. I had neither sufficient time in which +to eat or to sleep, except on Sundays. The overwork, and the brutal +chastisements of which I was the victim, combined with that ever-gnawing and +soul-devouring thought—“<i>I am a slave—a slave for +life—a slave with no rational ground to hope for +freedom</i>”—rendered me a living embodiment of mental and physical +wretchedness. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></a> +CHAPTER XVI. <i>Another Pressure of the Tyrant’s Vice</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +EXPERIENCE AT COVEY’S SUMMED UP—FIRST SIX MONTHS SEVERER THAN THE +SECOND—PRELIMINARIES TO THE CHANCE—REASONS FOR NARRATING THE +CIRCUMSTANCES—SCENE IN TREADING YARD—TAKEN ILL—UNUSUAL +BRUTALITY OF COVEY—ESCAPE TO ST. MICHAEL’S—THE +PURSUIT—SUFFERING IN THE WOODS—DRIVEN BACK AGAIN TO +COVEY’S—BEARING OF MASTER THOMAS—THE SLAVE IS NEVER +SICK—NATURAL TO EXPECT SLAVES TO FEIGN SICKNESS—LAZINESS OF +SLAVEHOLDERS. +</p> + +<p> +The foregoing chapter, with all its horrid incidents and shocking features, may +be taken as a fair representation of the first six months of my life at +Covey’s. The reader has but to repeat, in his own mind, once a week, the +scene in the woods, where Covey subjected me to his merciless lash, to have a +true idea of my bitter experience there, during the first period of the +breaking process through which Mr. Covey carried me. I have no heart to repeat +each separate transaction, in which I was victim of his violence and brutality. +Such a narration would fill a volume much larger than the present one. I aim +only to give the reader a truthful impression of my slave life, without +unnecessarily affecting him with harrowing details. +</p> + +<p> +As I have elsewhere intimated that my hardships were much greater during the +first six months of my stay at Covey’s, than during the remainder of the +year, and as the change in my condition was owing to causes which may help the +reader to a better understanding of human nature, when subjected to the +terrible extremities of slavery, I will narrate the circumstances of this +change, although I may seem thereby to applaud my own courage. You have, dear +reader, seen me humbled, degraded, broken down, enslaved, and brutalized, and +you understand how it was done; now let us see the converse of all this, and +how it was brought about; and this will take us through the year 1834. +</p> + +<p> +On one of the hottest days of the month of August, of the year just mentioned, +had the reader been passing through Covey’s farm, he might have seen me +at work, in what is there called the “treading yard”—a yard +upon which wheat is trodden out from the straw, by the horses’ feet. I +was there, at work, feeding the “fan,” or rather bringing wheat to +the fan, while Bill Smith was feeding. Our force consisted of Bill Hughes, Bill +Smith, and a slave by the name of Eli; the latter having been hired for this +occasion. The work was simple, and required strength and activity, rather than +any skill or intelligence, and yet, to one entirely unused to such work, it +came very hard. The heat was intense and overpowering, and there was much hurry +to get the wheat, trodden out that day, through the fan; since, if that work +was done an hour before sundown, the hands would have, according to a promise +of Covey, that hour added to their night’s rest. I was not behind any of +them in the wish to complete the day’s work before sundown, and, hence, I +struggled with all my might to get the work forward. The promise of one +hour’s repose on a week day, was sufficient to quicken my pace, and to +spur me on to extra endeavor. Besides, we had all planned to go fishing, and I +certainly wished to have a hand in that. But I was disappointed, and the day +turned out to be one of the bitterest I ever experienced. About three +o’clock, while the sun was pouring down his burning rays, and not a +breeze was stirring, I broke down; my strength failed me; I was seized with a +violent aching of the head, attended with extreme dizziness, and trembling in +every limb. Finding what was coming, and feeling it would never do to stop +work, I nerved myself up, and staggered on until I fell by the side of the +wheat fan, feeling that the earth had fallen upon me. This brought the entire +work to a dead stand. There was work for four; each one had his part to +perform, and each part depended on the other, so that when one stopped, all +were compelled to stop. Covey, who had now become my dread, as well as my +tormentor, was at the house, about a hundred yards from where I was fanning, +and instantly, upon hearing the fan stop, he came down to the treading yard, to +inquire into the cause of our stopping. Bill Smith told him I was sick, and +that I was unable longer to bring wheat to the fan. +</p> + +<p> +I had, by this time, crawled away, under the side of a post-and-rail fence, in +the shade, and was exceeding ill. The intense heat of the sun, the heavy dust +rising from the fan, the stooping, to take up the wheat from the yard, together +with the hurrying, to get through, had caused a rush of blood to my head. In +this condition, Covey finding out where I was, came to me; and, after standing +over me a while, he asked me what the matter was. I told him as well as I +could, for it was with difficulty that I could speak. He then gave me a savage +kick in the side, which jarred my whole frame, and commanded me to get up. The +man had obtained complete control over me; and if he had commanded me to do any +possible thing, I should, in my then state of mind, have endeavored to comply. +I made an effort to rise, but fell back in the attempt, before gaining my feet. +The brute now gave me another heavy kick, and again told me to rise. I again +tried to rise, and succeeded in gaining my feet; but upon stooping to get the +tub with which I was feeding the fan, I again staggered and fell to the ground; +and I must have so fallen, had I been sure that a hundred bullets would have +pierced me, as the consequence. While down, in this sad condition, and +perfectly helpless, the merciless Negro breaker took up the hickory slab, with +which Hughes had been striking off the wheat to a level with the sides of the +half bushel measure (a very hard weapon) and with the sharp edge of it, he +dealt me a heavy blow on my head which made a large gash, and caused the blood +to run freely, saying, at the same time, “If <i>you have got the +headache, I’ll cure you</i>.” This done, he ordered me again to +rise, but I made no effort to do so; for I had made up my mind that it was +useless, and that the heartless monster might now do his worst; he could but +kill me, and that might put me out of my misery. Finding me unable to rise, or +rather despairing of my doing so, Covey left me, with a view to getting on with +the work without me. I was bleeding very freely, and my face was soon covered +with my warm blood. Cruel and merciless as was the motive that dealt that blow, +dear reader, the wound was fortunate for me. Bleeding was never more +efficacious. The pain in my head speedily abated, and I was soon able to rise. +Covey had, as I have said, now left me to my fate; and the question was, shall +I return to my work, or shall I find my way to St. Michael’s, and make +Capt. Auld acquainted with the atrocious cruelty of his brother Covey, and +beseech him to get me another master? Remembering the object he had in view, in +placing me under the management of Covey, and further, his cruel treatment of +my poor crippled cousin, Henny, and his meanness in the matter of feeding and +clothing his slaves, there was little ground to hope for a favorable reception +at the hands of Capt. Thomas Auld. Nevertheless, I resolved to go straight to +Capt. Auld, thinking that, if not animated by motives of humanity, he might be +induced to interfere on my behalf from selfish considerations. “He +cannot,” thought I, “allow his property to be thus bruised and +battered, marred and defaced; and I will go to him, and tell him the simple +truth about the matter.” In order to get to St. Michael’s, by the +most favorable and direct road, I must walk seven miles; and this, in my sad +condition, was no easy performance. I had already lost much blood; I was +exhausted by over exertion; my sides were sore from the heavy blows planted +there by the stout boots of Mr. Covey; and I was, in every way, in an +unfavorable plight for the journey. I however watched my chance, while the +cruel and cunning Covey was looking in an opposite direction, and started off, +across the field, for St. Michael’s. This was a daring step; if it +failed, it would only exasperate Covey, and increase the rigors of my bondage, +during the remainder of my term of service under him; but the step was taken, +and I must go forward. I succeeded in getting nearly half way across the broad +field, toward the woods, before Mr. Covey observed me. I was still bleeding, +and the exertion of running had started the blood afresh. <i>“Come back! +Come back!”</i> vociferated Covey, with threats of what he would do if I +did not return instantly. But, disregarding his calls and his threats, I +pressed on toward the woods as fast as my feeble state would allow. Seeing no +signs of my stopping, Covey caused his horse to be brought out and saddled, as +if he intended to pursue me. The race was now to be an unequal one; and, +thinking I might be overhauled by him, if I kept the main road, I walked nearly +the whole distance in the woods, keeping far enough from the road to avoid +detection and pursuit. But, I had not gone far, before my little strength again +failed me, and I laid down. The blood was still oozing from the wound in my +head; and, for a time, I suffered more than I can describe. There I was, in the +deep woods, sick and emaciated, pursued by a wretch whose character for +revolting cruelty beggars all opprobrious speech—bleeding, and almost +bloodless. I was not without the fear of bleeding to death. The thought of +dying in the woods, all alone, and of being torn to pieces by the buzzards, had +not yet been rendered tolerable by my many troubles and hardships, and I was +glad when the shade of the trees, and the cool evening breeze, combined with my +matted hair to stop the flow of blood. After lying there about three quarters +of an hour, brooding over the singular and mournful lot to which I was doomed, +my mind passing over the whole scale or circle of belief and unbelief, from +faith in the overruling providence of God, to the blackest atheism, I again +took up my journey toward St. Michael’s, more weary and sad than in the +morning when I left Thomas Auld’s for the home of Mr. Covey. I was +bare-footed and bare-headed, and in my shirt sleeves. The way was through bogs +and briers, and I tore my feet often during the journey. I was full five hours +in going the seven or eight miles; partly, because of the difficulties of the +way, and partly, because of the feebleness induced by my illness, bruises and +loss of blood. On gaining my master’s store, I presented an appearance of +wretchedness and woe, fitted to move any but a heart of stone. From the crown +of my head to the sole of my feet, there were marks of blood. My hair was all +clotted with dust and blood, and the back of my shirt was literally stiff with +the same. Briers and thorns had scarred and torn my feet and legs, leaving +blood marks there. Had I escaped from a den of tigers, I could not have looked +worse than I did on reaching St. Michael’s. In this unhappy plight, I +appeared before my professedly <i>Christian</i> master, humbly to invoke the +interposition of his power and authority, to protect me from further abuse and +violence. I had begun to hope, during the latter part of my tedious journey +toward St. Michael’s, that Capt. Auld would now show himself in a nobler +light than I had ever before seen him. I was disappointed. I had jumped from a +sinking ship into the sea; I had fled from the tiger to something worse. I told +him all the circumstances, as well as I could; how I was endeavoring to please +Covey; how hard I was at work in the present instance; how unwilling I sunk +down under the heat, toil and pain; the brutal manner in which Covey had kicked +me in the side; the gash cut in my head; my hesitation about troubling him +(Capt. Auld) with complaints; but, that now I felt it would not be best longer +to conceal from him the outrages committed on me from time to time by Covey. At +first, master Thomas seemed somewhat affected by the story of my wrongs, but he +soon repressed his feelings and became cold as iron. It was impossible—as +I stood before him at the first—for him to seem indifferent. I distinctly +saw his human nature asserting its conviction against the slave system, which +made cases like mine <i>possible;</i> but, as I have said, humanity fell before +the systematic tyranny of slavery. He first walked the floor, apparently much +agitated by my story, and the sad spectacle I presented; but, presently, it was +<i>his</i> turn to talk. He began moderately, by finding excuses for Covey, and +ending with a full justification of him, and a passionate condemnation of me. +“He had no doubt I deserved the flogging. He did not believe I was sick; +I was only endeavoring to get rid of work. My dizziness was laziness, and Covey +did right to flog me, as he had done.” After thus fairly annihilating me, +and rousing himself by his own eloquence, he fiercely demanded what I wished +<i>him</i> to do in the case! +</p> + +<p> +With such a complete knock-down to all my hopes, as he had given me, and +feeling, as I did, my entire subjection to his power, I had very little heart +to reply. I must not affirm my innocence of the allegations which he had piled +up against me; for that would be impudence, and would probably call down fresh +violence as well as wrath upon me. The guilt of a slave is always, and +everywhere, presumed; and the innocence of the slaveholder or the slave +employer, is always asserted. The word of the slave, against this presumption, +is generally treated as impudence, worthy of punishment. “Do you +contradict me, you rascal?” is a final silencer of counter statements +from the lips of a slave. +</p> + +<p> +Calming down a little in view of my silence and hesitation, and, perhaps, from +a rapid glance at the picture of misery I presented, he inquired again, +“what I would have him do?” Thus invited a second time, I told +Master Thomas I wished him to allow me to get a new home and to find a new +master; that, as sure as I went back to live with Mr. Covey again, I should be +killed by him; that he would never forgive my coming to him (Capt. Auld) with a +complaint against him (Covey); that, since I had lived with him, he almost +crushed my spirit, and I believed that he would ruin me for future service; +that my life was not safe in his hands. This, Master Thomas <i>(my brother in +the church)</i> regarded as “nonsence(sic).” “There was no +danger of Mr. Covey’s killing me; he was a good man, industrious and +religious, and he would not think of removing me from that home; +besides,” said he and this I found was the most distressing thought of +all to him—“if you should leave Covey now, that your year has but +half expired, I should lose your wages for the entire year. You belong to Mr. +Covey for one year, and you <i>must go back</i> to him, come what will. You +must not trouble me with any more stories about Mr. Covey; and if you do not go +immediately home, I will get hold of you myself.” This was just what I +expected, when I found he had <i>prejudged</i> the case against me. “But, +Sir,” I said, “I am sick and tired, and I cannot get home +to-night.” At this, he again relented, and finally he allowed me to +remain all night at St. Michael’s; but said I must be off early in the +morning, and concluded his directions by making me swallow a huge dose of +<i>epsom salts</i>—about the only medicine ever administered to slaves. +</p> + +<p> +It was quite natural for Master Thomas to presume I was feigning sickness to +escape work, for he probably thought that were <i>he</i> in the place of a +slave with no wages for his work, no praise for well doing, no motive for toil +but the lash—he would try every possible scheme by which to escape labor. +I say I have no doubt of this; the reason is, that there are not, under the +whole heavens, a set of men who cultivate such an intense dread of labor as do +the slaveholders. The charge of laziness against the slave is ever on their +lips, and is the standing apology for every species of cruelty and brutality. +These men literally “bind heavy burdens, grievous to be borne, and lay +them on men’s shoulders; but they, themselves, will not move them with +one of their fingers.” +</p> + +<p> +My kind readers shall have, in the next chapter—what they were led, +perhaps, to expect to find in this—namely: an account of my partial +disenthrallment from the tyranny of Covey, and the marked change which it +brought about. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"></a> +CHAPTER XVII. <i>The Last Flogging</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +A SLEEPLESS NIGHT—RETURN TO COVEY’S—PURSUED BY +COVEY—THE CHASE DEFEATED—VENGEANCE POSTPONED—MUSINGS IN THE +WOODS—THE ALTERNATIVE—DEPLORABLE SPECTACLE—NIGHT IN THE +WOODS—EXPECTED ATTACK—ACCOSTED BY SANDY, A FRIEND, NOT A +HUNTER—SANDY’S HOSPITALITY—THE “ASH CAKE” +SUPPER—THE INTERVIEW WITH SANDY—HIS ADVICE—SANDY A CONJURER +AS WELL AS A CHRISTIAN—THE MAGIC ROOT—STRANGE MEETING WITH +COVEY—HIS MANNER—COVEY’S SUNDAY FACE—MY DEFENSIVE +RESOLVE—THE FIGHT—THE VICTORY, AND ITS RESULTS. +</p> + +<p> +Sleep itself does not always come to the relief of the weary in body, and the +broken in spirit; especially when past troubles only foreshadow coming +disasters. The last hope had been extinguished. My master, who I did not +venture to hope would protect me as <i>a man</i>, had even now refused to +protect me as <i>his property;</i> and had cast me back, covered with +reproaches and bruises, into the hands of a stranger to that mercy which was +the soul of the religion he professed. May the reader never spend such a night +as that allotted to me, previous to the morning which was to herald my return +to the den of horrors from which I had made a temporary escape. +</p> + +<p> +I remained all night—sleep I did not—at St. Michael’s; and in +the morning (Saturday) I started off, according to the order of Master Thomas, +feeling that I had no friend on earth, and doubting if I had one in heaven. I +reached Covey’s about nine o’clock; and just as I stepped into the +field, before I had reached the house, Covey, true to his snakish habits, +darted out at me from a fence corner, in which he had secreted himself, for the +purpose of securing me. He was amply provided with a cowskin and a rope; and he +evidently intended to <i>tie me up</i>, and to wreak his vengeance on me to the +fullest extent. I should have been an easy prey, had he succeeded in getting +his hands upon me, for I had taken no refreshment since noon on Friday; and +this, together with the pelting, excitement, and the loss of blood, had reduced +my strength. I, however, darted back into the woods, before the ferocious hound +could get hold of me, and buried myself in a thicket, where he lost sight of +me. The corn-field afforded me cover, in getting to the woods. But for the tall +corn, Covey would have overtaken me, and made me his captive. He seemed very +much chagrined that he did not catch me, and gave up the chase, very +reluctantly; for I could see his angry movements, toward the house from which +he had sallied, on his foray. +</p> + +<p> +Well, now I am clear of Covey, and of his wrathful lash, for present. I am in +the wood, buried in its somber gloom, and hushed in its solemn silence; hid +from all human eyes; shut in with nature and nature’s God, and absent +from all human contrivances. Here was a good place to pray; to pray for help +for deliverance—a prayer I had often made before. But how could I pray? +Covey could pray—Capt. Auld could pray—I would fain pray; but +doubts (arising partly from my own neglect of the means of grace, and partly +from the sham religion which everywhere prevailed, cast in my mind a doubt upon +all religion, and led me to the conviction that prayers were unavailing and +delusive) prevented my embracing the opportunity, as a religious one. Life, in +itself, had almost become burdensome to me. All my outward relations were +against me; I must stay here and starve (I was already hungry) or go home to +Covey’s, and have my flesh torn to pieces, and my spirit humbled under +the cruel lash of Covey. This was the painful alternative presented to me. The +day was long and irksome. My physical condition was deplorable. I was weak, +from the toils of the previous day, and from the want of food and rest; and had +been so little concerned about my appearance, that I had not yet washed the +blood from my garments. I was an object of horror, even to myself. Life, in +Baltimore, when most oppressive, was a paradise to this. What had I done, what +had my parents done, that such a life as this should be mine? That day, in the +woods, I would have exchanged my manhood for the brutehood of an ox. +</p> + +<p> +Night came. I was still in the woods, unresolved what to do. Hunger had not yet +pinched me to the point of going home, and I laid myself down in the leaves to +rest; for I had been watching for hunters all day, but not being molested +during the day, I expected no disturbance during the night. I had come to the +conclusion that Covey relied upon hunger to drive me home; and in this I was +quite correct—the facts showed that he had made no effort to catch me, +since morning. +</p> + +<p> +During the night, I heard the step of a man in the woods. He was coming toward +the place where I lay. A person lying still has the advantage over one walking +in the woods, in the day time, and this advantage is much greater at night. I +was not able to engage in a physical struggle, and I had recourse to the common +resort of the weak. I hid myself in the leaves to prevent discovery. But, as +the night rambler in the woods drew nearer, I found him to be a <i>friend</i>, +not an enemy; it was a slave of Mr. William Groomes, of Easton, a kind hearted +fellow, named “Sandy.” Sandy lived with Mr. Kemp that year, about +four miles from St. Michael’s. He, like myself had been hired out by the +year; but, unlike myself, had not been hired out to be broken. Sandy was the +husband of a free woman, who lived in the lower part of <i>“Potpie +Neck,”</i> and he was now on his way through the woods, to see her, and +to spend the Sabbath with her. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as I had ascertained that the disturber of my solitude was not an +enemy, but the good-hearted Sandy—a man as famous among the slaves of the +neighborhood for his good nature, as for his good sense I came out from my +hiding place, and made myself known to him. I explained the circumstances of +the past two days, which had driven me to the woods, and he deeply +compassionated my distress. It was a bold thing for him to shelter me, and I +could not ask him to do so; for, had I been found in his hut, he would have +suffered the penalty of thirty-nine lashes on his bare back, if not something +worse. But Sandy was too generous to permit the fear of punishment to prevent +his relieving a brother bondman from hunger and exposure; and, therefore, on +his own motion, I accompanied him to his home, or rather to the home of his +wife—for the house and lot were hers. His wife was called up—for it +was now about midnight—a fire was made, some Indian meal was soon mixed +with salt and water, and an ash cake was baked in a hurry to relieve my hunger. +Sandy’s wife was not behind him in kindness—both seemed to esteem +it a privilege to succor me; for, although I was hated by Covey and by my +master, I was loved by the colored people, because <i>they</i> thought I was +hated for my knowledge, and persecuted because I was feared. I was the +<i>only</i> slave <i>now</i> in that region who could read and write. There had +been one other man, belonging to Mr. Hugh Hamilton, who could read (his name +was “Jim”), but he, poor fellow, had, shortly after my coming into +the neighborhood, been sold off to the far south. I saw Jim ironed, in the +cart, to be carried to Easton for sale—pinioned like a yearling for the +slaughter. My knowledge was now the pride of my brother slaves; and, no doubt, +Sandy felt something of the general interest in me on that account. The supper +was soon ready, and though I have feasted since, with honorables, lord mayors +and aldermen, over the sea, my supper on ash cake and cold water, with Sandy, +was the meal, of all my life, most sweet to my taste, and now most vivid in my +memory. +</p> + +<p> +Supper over, Sandy and I went into a discussion of what was <i>possible</i> for +me, under the perils and hardships which now overshadowed my path. The question +was, must I go back to Covey, or must I now tempt to run away? Upon a careful +survey, the latter was found to be impossible; for I was on a narrow neck of +land, every avenue from which would bring me in sight of pursuers. There was +the Chesapeake bay to the right, and “Pot-pie” river to the left, +and St. Michael’s and its neighborhood occupying the only space through +which there was any retreat. +</p> + +<p> +I found Sandy an old advisor. He was not only a religious man, but he professed +to believe in a system for which I have no name. He was a genuine African, and +had inherited some of the so-called magical powers, said to be possessed by +African and eastern nations. He told me that he could help me; that, in those +very woods, there was an herb, which in the morning might be found, possessing +all the powers required for my protection (I put his thoughts in my own +language); and that, if I would take his advice, he would procure me the root +of the herb of which he spoke. He told me further, that if I would take that +root and wear it on my right side, it would be impossible for Covey to strike +me a blow; that with this root about my person, no white man could whip me. He +said he had carried it for years, and that he had fully tested its virtues. He +had never received a blow from a slaveholder since he carried it; and he never +expected to receive one, for he always meant to carry that root as a +protection. He knew Covey well, for Mrs. Covey was the daughter of Mr. Kemp; +and he (Sandy) had heard of the barbarous treatment to which I was subjected, +and he wanted to do something for me. +</p> + +<p> +Now all this talk about the root, was to me, very absurd and ridiculous, if not +positively sinful. I at first rejected the idea that the simple carrying a root +on my right side (a root, by the way, over which I walked every time I went +into the woods) could possess any such magic power as he ascribed to it, and I +was, therefore, not disposed to cumber my pocket with it. I had a positive +aversion to all pretenders to <i>“divination.”</i> It was beneath +one of my intelligence to countenance such dealings with the devil, as this +power implied. But, with all my learning—it was really precious +little—Sandy was more than a match for me. “My book +learning,” he said, “had not kept Covey off me” (a powerful +argument just then) and he entreated me, with flashing eyes, to try this. If it +did me no good, it could do me no harm, and it would cost me nothing, any way. +Sandy was so earnest, and so confident of the good qualities of this weed, +that, to please him, rather than from any conviction of its excellence, I was +induced to take it. He had been to me the good Samaritan, and had, almost +providentially, found me, and helped me when I could not help myself; how did I +know but that the hand of the Lord was in it? With thoughts of this sort, I +took the roots from Sandy, and put them in my right hand pocket. +</p> + +<p> +This was, of course, Sunday morning. Sandy now urged me to go home, with all +speed, and to walk up bravely to the house, as though nothing had happened. I +saw in Sandy too deep an insight into human nature, with all his superstition, +not to have some respect for his advice; and perhaps, too, a slight gleam or +shadow of his superstition had fallen upon me. At any rate, I started off +toward Covey’s, as directed by Sandy. Having, the previous night, poured +my griefs into Sandy’s ears, and got him enlisted in my behalf, having +made his wife a sharer in my sorrows, and having, also, become well refreshed +by sleep and food, I moved off, quite courageously, toward the much dreaded +Covey’s. Singularly enough, just as I entered his yard gate, I met him +and his wife, dressed in their Sunday best—looking as smiling as +angels—on their way to church. The manner of Covey astonished me. There +was something really benignant in his countenance. He spoke to me as never +before; told me that the pigs had got into the lot, and he wished me to drive +them out; inquired how I was, and seemed an altered man. This extraordinary +conduct of Covey, really made me begin to think that Sandy’s herb had +more virtue in it than I, in my pride, had been willing to allow; and, had the +day been other than Sunday, I should have attributed Covey’s altered +manner solely to the magic power of the root. I suspected, however, that the +<i>Sabbath</i>, and not the <i>root</i>, was the real explanation of +Covey’s manner. His religion hindered him from breaking the Sabbath, but +not from breaking my skin. He had more respect for the <i>day</i> than for the +<i>man</i>, for whom the day was mercifully given; for while he would cut and +slash my body during the week, he would not hesitate, on Sunday, to teach me +the value of my soul, or the way of life and salvation by Jesus Christ. +</p> + +<p> +All went well with me till Monday morning; and then, whether the root had lost +its virtue, or whether my tormentor had gone deeper into the black art than +myself (as was sometimes said of him), or whether he had obtained a special +indulgence, for his faithful Sabbath day’s worship, it is not necessary +for me to know, or to inform the reader; but, this I <i>may</i> say—the +pious and benignant smile which graced Covey’s face on <i>Sunday</i>, +wholly disappeared on <i>Monday</i>. Long before daylight, I was called up to +go and feed, rub, and curry the horses. I obeyed the call, and would have so +obeyed it, had it been made at an earilier(sic) hour, for I had brought my mind +to a firm resolve, during that Sunday’s reflection, viz: to obey every +order, however unreasonable, if it were possible, and, if Mr. Covey should then +undertake to beat me, to defend and protect myself to the best of my ability. +My religious views on the subject of resisting my master, had suffered a +serious shock, by the savage persecution to which I had been subjected, and my +hands were no longer tied by my religion. Master Thomas’s indifference +had served the last link. I had now to this extent “backslidden” +from this point in the slave’s religious creed; and I soon had occasion +to make my fallen state known to my Sunday-pious brother, Covey. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst I was obeying his order to feed and get the horses ready for the field, +and when in the act of going up the stable loft for the purpose of throwing +down some blades, Covey sneaked into the stable, in his peculiar snake-like +way, and seizing me suddenly by the leg, he brought me to the stable floor, +giving my newly mended body a fearful jar. I now forgot my roots, and +remembered my pledge to <i>stand up in my own defense</i>. The brute was +endeavoring skillfully to get a slip-knot on my legs, before I could draw up my +feet. As soon as I found what he was up to, I gave a sudden spring (my two +day’s rest had been of much service to me,) and by that means, no doubt, +he was able to bring me to the floor so heavily. He was defeated in his plan of +tying me. While down, he seemed to think he had me very securely in his power. +He little thought he was—as the rowdies say—“in” for a +“rough and tumble” fight; but such was the fact. Whence came the +daring spirit necessary to grapple with a man who, eight-and-forty hours +before, could, with his slightest word have made me tremble like a leaf in a +storm, I do not know; at any rate, <i>I was resolved to fight</i>, and, what +was better still, I was actually hard at it. The fighting madness had come upon +me, and I found my strong fingers firmly attached to the throat of my cowardly +tormentor; as heedless of consequences, at the moment, as though we stood as +equals before the law. The very color of the man was forgotten. I felt as +supple as a cat, and was ready for the snakish creature at every turn. Every +blow of his was parried, though I dealt no blows in turn. I was strictly on the +<i>defensive</i>, preventing him from injuring me, rather than trying to injure +him. I flung him on the ground several times, when he meant to have hurled me +there. I held him so firmly by the throat, that his blood followed my nails. He +held me, and I held him. +</p> + +<p> +All was fair, thus far, and the contest was about equal. My resistance was +entirely unexpected, and Covey was taken all aback by it, for he trembled in +every limb. <i>“Are you going to resist</i>, you scoundrel?” said +he. To which, I returned a polite <i>“Yes sir;”</i> steadily gazing +my interrogator in the eye, to meet the first approach or dawning of the blow, +which I expected my answer would call forth. But, the conflict did not long +remain thus equal. Covey soon cried out lustily for help; not that I was +obtaining any marked advantage over him, or was injuring him, but because he +was gaining none over me, and was not able, single handed, to conquer me. He +called for his cousin Hughs, to come to his assistance, and now the scene was +changed. I was compelled to give blows, as well as to parry them; and, since I +was, in any case, to suffer for resistance, I felt (as the musty proverb goes) +that “I might as well be hanged for an old sheep as a lamb.” I was +still <i>defensive</i> toward Covey, but <i>aggressive</i> toward Hughs; and, +at the first approach of the latter, I dealt a blow, in my desperation, which +fairly sickened my youthful assailant. He went off, bending over with pain, and +manifesting no disposition to come within my reach again. The poor fellow was +in the act of trying to catch and tie my right hand, and while flattering +himself with success, I gave him the kick which sent him staggering away in +pain, at the same time that I held Covey with a firm hand. +</p> + +<p> +Taken completely by surprise, Covey seemed to have lost his usual strength and +coolness. He was frightened, and stood puffing and blowing, seemingly unable to +command words or blows. When he saw that poor Hughes was standing half bent +with pain—his courage quite gone the cowardly tyrant asked if I +“meant to persist in my resistance.” I told him “<i>I did +mean to resist, come what might</i>;” that I had been by him treated like +a <i>brute</i>, during the last six months; and that I should stand it <i>no +longer</i>. With that, he gave me a shake, and attempted to drag me toward a +stick of wood, that was lying just outside the stable door. He meant to knock +me down with it; but, just as he leaned over to get the stick, I seized him +with both hands by the collar, and, with a vigorous and sudden snatch, I +brought my assailant harmlessly, his full length, on the <i>not</i> overclean +ground—for we were now in the cow yard. He had selected the place for the +fight, and it was but right that he should have all the advantges(sic) of his +own selection. +</p> + +<p> +By this time, Bill, the hiredman, came home. He had been to Mr. +Hemsley’s, to spend the Sunday with his nominal wife, and was coming home +on Monday morning, to go to work. Covey and I had been skirmishing from before +daybreak, till now, that the sun was almost shooting his beams over the eastern +woods, and we were still at it. I could not see where the matter was to +terminate. He evidently was afraid to let me go, lest I should again make off +to the woods; otherwise, he would probably have obtained arms from the house, +to frighten me. Holding me, Covey called upon Bill for assistance. The scene +here, had something comic about it. “Bill,” who knew +<i>precisely</i> what Covey wished him to do, affected ignorance, and pretended +he did not know what to do. “What shall I do, Mr. Covey,” said +Bill. “Take hold of him—take hold of him!” said Covey. With a +toss of his head, peculiar to Bill, he said, “indeed, Mr. Covey I want to +go to work.” <i>“This is</i> your work,” said Covey; +“take hold of him.” Bill replied, with spirit, “My master +hired me here, to work, and <i>not</i> to help you whip Frederick.” It +was now my turn to speak. “Bill,” said I, “don’t put +your hands on me.” To which he replied, “My GOD! Frederick, I +ain’t goin’ to tech ye,” and Bill walked off, leaving Covey +and myself to settle our matters as best we might. +</p> + +<p> +But, my present advantage was threatened when I saw Caroline (the slave-woman +of Covey) coming to the cow yard to milk, for she was a powerful woman, and +could have mastered me very easily, exhausted as I now was. As soon as she came +into the yard, Covey attempted to rally her to his aid. Strangely—and, I +may add, fortunately—Caroline was in no humor to take a hand in any such +sport. We were all in open rebellion, that morning. Caroline answered the +command of her master to <i>“take hold of me,”</i> precisely as +Bill had answered, but in <i>her</i>, it was at greater peril so to answer; she +was the slave of Covey, and he could do what he pleased with her. It was +<i>not</i> so with Bill, and Bill knew it. Samuel Harris, to whom Bill +belonged, did not allow his slaves to be beaten, unless they were guilty of +some crime which the law would punish. But, poor Caroline, like myself, was at +the mercy of the merciless Covey; nor did she escape the dire effects of her +refusal. He gave her several sharp blows. +</p> + +<p> +Covey at length (two hours had elapsed) gave up the contest. Letting me go, he +said—puffing and blowing at a great rate—“Now, you scoundrel, +go to your work; I would not have whipped you half so much as I have had you +not resisted.” The fact was, <i>he had not whipped me at all</i>. He had +not, in all the scuffle, drawn a single drop of blood from me. I had drawn +blood from him; and, even without this satisfaction, I should have been +victorious, because my aim had not been to injure him, but to prevent his +injuring me. +</p> + +<p> +During the whole six months that I lived with Covey, after this transaction, he +never laid on me the weight of his finger in anger. He would, occasionally, say +he did not want to have to get hold of me again—a declaration which I had +no difficulty in believing; and I had a secret feeling, which answered, +“You need not wish to get hold of me again, for you will be likely to +come off worse in a second fight than you did in the first.” +</p> + +<p> +Well, my dear reader, this battle with Mr. Covey—undignified as it was, +and as I fear my narration of it is—was the turning point in my +<i>“life as a slave</i>.” It rekindled in my breast the smouldering +embers of liberty; it brought up my Baltimore dreams, and revived a sense of my +own manhood. I was a changed being after that fight. I was <i>nothing</i> +before; I WAS A MAN NOW. It recalled to life my crushed self-respect and my +self-confidence, and inspired me with a renewed determination to be A FREEMAN. +A man, without force, is without the essential dignity of humanity. Human +nature is so constituted, that it cannot <i>honor</i> a helpless man, although +it can <i>pity</i> him; and even this it cannot do long, if the signs of power +do not arise. +</p> + +<p> +He can only understand the effect of this combat on my spirit, who has himself +incurred something, hazarded something, in repelling the unjust and cruel +aggressions of a tyrant. Covey was a tyrant, and a cowardly one, withal. After +resisting him, I felt as I had never felt before. It was a resurrection from +the dark and pestiferous tomb of slavery, to the heaven of comparative freedom. +I was no longer a servile coward, trembling under the frown of a brother worm +of the dust, but, my long-cowed spirit was roused to an attitude of manly +independence. I had reached the point, at which I was <i>not afraid to die</i>. +This spirit made me a freeman in <i>fact</i>, while I remained a slave in +<i>form</i>. When a slave cannot be flogged he is more than half free. He has a +domain as broad as his own manly heart to defend, and he is really <i>“a +power on earth</i>.” While slaves prefer their lives, with flogging, to +instant death, they will always find Christians enough, like unto Covey, to +accommodate that preference. From this time, until that of my escape from +slavery, I was never fairly whipped. Several attempts were made to whip me, but +they were always unsuccessful. Bruises I did get, as I shall hereafter inform +the reader; but the case I have been describing, was the end of the +brutification to which slavery had subjected me. +</p> + +<p> +The reader will be glad to know why, after I had so grievously offended Mr. +Covey, he did not have me taken in hand by the authorities; indeed, why the law +of Maryland, which assigns hanging to the slave who resists his master, was not +put in force against me; at any rate, why I was not taken up, as is usual in +such cases, and publicly whipped, for an example to other slaves, and as a +means of deterring me from committing the same offense again. I confess, that +the easy manner in which I got off, for a long time, a surprise to me, and I +cannot, even now, fully explain the cause. +</p> + +<p> +The only explanation I can venture to suggest, is the fact, that Covey was, +probably, ashamed to have it known and confessed that he had been mastered by a +boy of sixteen. Mr. Covey enjoyed the unbounded and very valuable reputation, +of being a first rate overseer and <i>Negro breaker</i>. By means of this +reputation, he was able to procure his hands for <i>very trifling</i> +compensation, and with very great ease. His interest and his pride mutually +suggested the wisdom of passing the matter by, in silence. The story that he +had undertaken to whip a lad, and had been resisted, was, of itself, sufficient +to damage him; for his bearing should, in the estimation of slaveholders, be of +that imperial order that should make such an occurrence <i>impossible</i>. I +judge from these circumstances, that Covey deemed it best to give me the go-by. +It is, perhaps, not altogether creditable to my natural temper, that, after +this conflict with Mr. Covey, I did, at times, purposely aim to provoke him to +an attack, by refusing to keep with the other hands in the field, but I could +never bully him to another battle. I had made up my mind to do him serious +damage, if he ever again attempted to lay violent hands on me. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Hereditary bondmen, know ye not<br/> +Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"></a> +CHAPTER XVIII. <i>New Relations and Duties</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +CHANGE OF MASTERS—BENEFITS DERIVED BY THE CHANGE—FAME OF THE FIGHT +WITH COVEY—RECKLESS UNCONCERN—MY ABHORRENCE OF +SLAVERY—ABILITY TO READ A CAUSE OF PREJUDICE—THE HOLIDAYS—HOW +SPENT—SHARP HIT AT SLAVERY—EFFECTS OF HOLIDAYS—A DEVICE OF +SLAVERY—DIFFERENCE BETWEEN COVEY AND FREELAND—AN IRRELIGIOUS MASTER +PREFERRED TO A RELIGIOUS ONE—CATALOGUE OF FLOGGABLE OFFENSES—HARD +LIFE AT COVEY’S USEFUL—IMPROVED CONDITION NOT FOLLOWED BY +CONTENTMENT—CONGENIAL SOCIETY AT FREELAND’S—SABBATH SCHOOL +INSTITUTED—SECRECY NECESSARY—AFFECTIONATE RELATIONS OF TUTOR AND +PUPILS—CONFIDENCE AND FRIENDSHIP AMONG SLAVES—I DECLINE PUBLISHING +PARTICULARS OF CONVERSATIONS WITH MY FRIENDS—SLAVERY THE INVITER OF +VENGEANCE. +</p> + +<p> +My term of actual service to Mr. Edward Covey ended on Christmas day, 1834. I +gladly left the snakish Covey, although he was now as gentle as a lamb. My home +for the year 1835 was already secured—my next master was already +selected. There is always more or less excitement about the matter of changing +hands, but I had become somewhat reckless. I cared very little into whose hands +I fell—I meant to fight my way. Despite of Covey, too, the report got +abroad, that I was hard to whip; that I was guilty of kicking back; that though +generally a good tempered Negro, I sometimes “<i>got the devil in +me</i>.” These sayings were rife in Talbot county, and they distinguished +me among my servile brethren. Slaves, generally, will fight each other, and die +at each other’s hands; but there are few who are not held in awe by a +white man. Trained from the cradle up, to think and feel that their masters are +superior, and invested with a sort of sacredness, there are few who can outgrow +or rise above the control which that sentiment exercises. I had now got free +from it, and the thing was known. One bad sheep will spoil a whole flock. Among +the slaves, I was a bad sheep. I hated slavery, slaveholders, and all +pertaining to them; and I did not fail to inspire others with the same feeling, +wherever and whenever opportunity was presented. This made me a marked lad +among the slaves, and a suspected one among the slaveholders. A knowledge of my +ability to read and write, got pretty widely spread, which was very much +against me. +</p> + +<p> +The days between Christmas day and New Year’s, are allowed the slaves as +holidays. During these days, all regular work was suspended, and there was +nothing to do but to keep fires, and look after the stock. This time was +regarded as our own, by the grace of our masters, and we, therefore used it, or +abused it, as we pleased. Those who had families at a distance, were now +expected to visit them, and to spend with them the entire week. The younger +slaves, or the unmarried ones, were expected to see to the cattle, and attend +to incidental duties at home. The holidays were variously spent. The sober, +thinking and industrious ones of our number, would employ themselves in +manufacturing corn brooms, mats, horse collars and baskets, and some of these +were very well made. Another class spent their time in hunting opossums, coons, +rabbits, and other game. But the majority spent the holidays in sports, ball +playing, wrestling, boxing, running foot races, dancing, and drinking whisky; +and this latter mode of spending the time was generally most agreeable to their +masters. A slave who would work during the holidays, was thought, by his +master, undeserving of holidays. Such an one had rejected the favor of his +master. There was, in this simple act of continued work, an accusation against +slaves; and a slave could not help thinking, that if he made three dollars +during the holidays, he might make three hundred during the year. Not to be +drunk during the holidays, was disgraceful; and he was esteemed a lazy and +improvident man, who could not afford to drink whisky during Christmas. +</p> + +<p> +The fiddling, dancing and <i>“jubilee beating</i>,” was going on in +all directions. This latter performance is strictly southern. It supplies the +place of a violin, or of other musical instruments, and is played so easily, +that almost every farm has its “Juba” beater. The performer +improvises as he beats, and sings his merry songs, so ordering the words as to +have them fall pat with the movement of his hands. Among a mass of nonsense and +wild frolic, once in a while a sharp hit is given to the meanness of +slaveholders. Take the following, for an example: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<i>We raise de wheat,<br/> +Dey gib us de corn;<br/> +We bake de bread,<br/> +Dey gib us de cruss;<br/> +We sif de meal,<br/> +Dey gib us de huss;<br/> +We peal de meat,<br/> +Dey gib us de skin,<br/> +And dat’s de way<br/> +Dey takes us in.<br/> +We skim de pot,<br/> +Dey gib us the liquor,<br/> +And say dat’s good enough for nigger.<br/> +Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Walk over! walk over!<br/> +Tom butter and de fat;<br/> +Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Poor nigger you can’t get over dat;<br/> +Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Walk over</i>! +</p> + +<p> +This is not a bad summary of the palpable injustice and fraud of slavery, +giving—as it does—to the lazy and idle, the comforts which God +designed should be given solely to the honest laborer. But to the +holiday’s. +</p> + +<p> +Judging from my own observation and experience, I believe these holidays to be +among the most effective means, in the hands of slaveholders, of keeping down +the spirit of insurrection among the slaves. +</p> + +<p> +To enslave men, successfully and safely, it is necessary to have their minds +occupied with thoughts and aspirations short of the liberty of which they are +deprived. A certain degree of attainable good must be kept before them. These +holidays serve the purpose of keeping the minds of the slaves occupied with +prospective pleasure, within the limits of slavery. The young man can go +wooing; the married man can visit his wife; the father and mother can see their +children; the industrious and money loving can make a few dollars; the great +wrestler can win laurels; the young people can meet, and enjoy each +other’s society; the drunken man can get plenty of whisky; and the +religious man can hold prayer meetings, preach, pray and exhort during the +holidays. Before the holidays, these are pleasures in prospect; after the +holidays, they become pleasures of memory, and they serve to keep out thoughts +and wishes of a more dangerous character. Were slaveholders at once to abandon +the practice of allowing their slaves these liberties, periodically, and to +keep them, the year round, closely confined to the narrow circle of their +homes, I doubt not that the south would blaze with insurrections. These +holidays are conductors or safety valves to carry off the explosive elements +inseparable from the human mind, when reduced to the condition of slavery. But +for these, the rigors of bondage would become too severe for endurance, and the +slave would be forced up to dangerous desperation. Woe to the slaveholder when +he undertakes to hinder or to prevent the operation of these electric +conductors. A succession of earthquakes would be less destructive, than the +insurrectionary fires which would be sure to burst forth in different parts of +the south, from such interference. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, the holidays, became part and parcel of the gross fraud, wrongs and +inhumanity of slavery. Ostensibly, they are institutions of benevolence, +designed to mitigate the rigors of slave life, but, practically, they are a +fraud, instituted by human selfishness, the better to secure the ends of +injustice and oppression. The slave’s happiness is not the end sought, +but, rather, the master’s safety. It is not from a generous unconcern for +the slave’s labor that this cessation from labor is allowed, but from a +prudent regard to the safety of the slave system. I am strengthened in this +opinion, by the fact, that most slaveholders like to have their slaves spend +the holidays in such a manner as to be of no real benefit to the slaves. It is +plain, that everything like rational enjoyment among the slaves, is frowned +upon; and only those wild and low sports, peculiar to semi-civilized people, +are encouraged. All the license allowed, appears to have no other object than +to disgust the slaves with their temporary freedom, and to make them as glad to +return to their work, as they were to leave it. By plunging them into +exhausting depths of drunkenness and dissipation, this effect is almost certain +to follow. I have known slaveholders resort to cunning tricks, with a view of +getting their slaves deplorably drunk. A usual plan is, to make bets on a +slave, that he can drink more whisky than any other; and so to induce a rivalry +among them, for the mastery in this degradation. The scenes, brought about in +this way, were often scandalous and loathsome in the extreme. Whole multitudes +might be found stretched out in brutal drunkenness, at once helpless and +disgusting. Thus, when the slave asks for a few hours of virtuous freedom, his +cunning master takes advantage of his ignorance, and cheers him with a dose of +vicious and revolting dissipation, artfully labeled with the name of LIBERTY. +We were induced to drink, I among the rest, and when the holidays were over, we +all staggered up from our filth and wallowing, took a long breath, and went +away to our various fields of work; feeling, upon the whole, rather glad to go +from that which our masters artfully deceived us into the belief was freedom, +back again to the arms of slavery. It was not what we had taken it to be, nor +what it might have been, had it not been abused by us. It was about as well to +be a slave to <i>master</i>, as to be a slave to <i>rum</i> and <i>whisky.</i> +</p> + +<p> +I am the more induced to take this view of the holiday system, adopted by +slaveholders, from what I know of their treatment of slaves, in regard to other +things. It is the commonest thing for them to try to disgust their slaves with +what they do not want them to have, or to enjoy. A slave, for instance, likes +molasses; he steals some; to cure him of the taste for it, his master, in many +cases, will go away to town, and buy a large quantity of the <i>poorest</i> +quality, and set it before his slave, and, with whip in hand, compel him to eat +it, until the poor fellow is made to sicken at the very thought of molasses. +The same course is often adopted to cure slaves of the disagreeable and +inconvenient practice of asking for more food, when their allowance has failed +them. The same disgusting process works well, too, in other things, but I need +not cite them. When a slave is drunk, the slaveholder has no fear that he will +plan an insurrection; no fear that he will escape to the north. It is the +sober, thinking slave who is dangerous, and needs the vigilance of his master, +to keep him a slave. But, to proceed with my narrative. +</p> + +<p> +On the first of January, 1835, I proceeded from St. Michael’s to Mr. +William Freeland’s, my new home. Mr. Freeland lived only three miles from +St. Michael’s, on an old worn out farm, which required much labor to +restore it to anything like a self-supporting establishment. +</p> + +<p> +I was not long in finding Mr. Freeland to be a very different man from Mr. +Covey. Though not rich, Mr. Freeland was what may be called a well-bred +southern gentleman, as different from Covey, as a well-trained and hardened +Negro breaker is from the best specimen of the first families of the south. +Though Freeland was a slaveholder, and shared many of the vices of his class, +he seemed alive to the sentiment of honor. He had some sense of justice, and +some feelings of humanity. He was fretful, impulsive and passionate, but I must +do him the justice to say, he was free from the mean and selfish +characteristics which distinguished the creature from which I had now, happily, +escaped. He was open, frank, imperative, and practiced no concealments, +disdaining to play the spy. In all this, he was the opposite of the crafty +Covey. +</p> + +<p> +Among the many advantages gained in my change from Covey’s to +Freeland’s—startling as the statement may be—was the fact +that the latter gentleman made no profession of religion. I assert <i>most +unhesitatingly</i>, that the religion of the south—as I have observed it +and proved it—is a mere covering for the most horrid crimes; the +justifier of the most appalling barbarity; a sanctifier of the most hateful +frauds; and a secure shelter, under which the darkest, foulest, grossest, and +most infernal abominations fester and flourish. Were I again to be reduced to +the condition of a slave, <i>next</i> to that calamity, I should regard the +fact of being the slave of a religious slaveholder, the greatest that could +befall me. For all slaveholders with whom I have ever met, religious +slaveholders are the worst. I have found them, almost invariably, the vilest, +meanest and basest of their class. Exceptions there may be, but this is true of +religious slaveholders, <i>as a class</i>. It is not for me to explain the +fact. Others may do that; I simply state it as a fact, and leave the +theological, and psychological inquiry, which it raises, to be decided by +others more competent than myself. Religious slaveholders, like religious +persecutors, are ever extreme in their malice and violence. Very near my new +home, on an adjoining farm, there lived the Rev. Daniel Weeden, who was both +pious and cruel after the real Covey pattern. Mr. Weeden was a local preacher +of the Protestant Methodist persuasion, and a most zealous supporter of the +ordinances of religion, generally. This Weeden owned a woman called +“Ceal,” who was a standing proof of his mercilessness. Poor +Ceal’s back, always scantily clothed, was kept literally raw, by the lash +of this religious man and gospel minister. The most notoriously wicked +man—so called in distinction from church members—could hire hands +more easily than this brute. When sent out to find a home, a slave would never +enter the gates of the preacher Weeden, while a sinful sinner needed a hand. Be +have ill, or behave well, it was the known maxim of Weeden, that it is the duty +of a master to use the lash. If, for no other reason, he contended that this +was essential to remind a slave of his condition, and of his master’s +authority. The good slave must be whipped, to be <i>kept</i> good, and the bad +slave must be whipped, to be <i>made</i> good. Such was Weeden’s theory, +and such was his practice. The back of his slave-woman will, in the judgment, +be the swiftest witness against him. +</p> + +<p> +While I am stating particular cases, I might as well immortalize another of my +neighbors, by calling him by name, and putting him in print. He did not think +that a “chiel” was near, “taking notes,” and will, +doubtless, feel quite angry at having his character touched off in the ragged +style of a slave’s pen. I beg to introduce the reader to REV. RIGBY +HOPKINS. Mr. Hopkins resides between Easton and St. Michael’s, in Talbot +county, Maryland. The severity of this man made him a perfect terror to the +slaves of his neighborhood. The peculiar feature of his government, was, his +system of whipping slaves, as he said, <i>in advance</i> of deserving it. He +always managed to have one or two slaves to whip on Monday morning, so as to +start his hands to their work, under the inspiration of a new assurance on +Monday, that his preaching about kindness, mercy, brotherly love, and the like, +on Sunday, did not interfere with, or prevent him from establishing his +authority, by the cowskin. He seemed to wish to assure them, that his tears +over poor, lost and ruined sinners, and his pity for them, did not reach to the +blacks who tilled his fields. This saintly Hopkins used to boast, that he was +the best hand to manage a Negro in the county. He whipped for the smallest +offenses, by way of preventing the commission of large ones. +</p> + +<p> +The reader might imagine a difficulty in finding faults enough for such +frequent whipping. But this is because you have no idea how easy a matter it is +to offend a man who is on the look-out for offenses. The man, unaccustomed to +slaveholding, would be astonished to observe how many <i>foggable</i> offenses +there are in the slaveholder’s catalogue of crimes; and how easy it is to +commit any one of them, even when the slave least intends it. A slaveholder, +bent on finding fault, will hatch up a dozen a day, if he chooses to do so, and +each one of these shall be of a punishable description. A mere look, word, or +motion, a mistake, accident, or want of power, are all matters for which a +slave may be whipped at any time. Does a slave look dissatisfied with his +condition? It is said, that he has the devil in him, and it must be whipped +out. Does he answer <i>loudly</i>, when spoken to by his master, with an air of +self-consciousness? Then, must he be taken down a button-hole lower, by the +lash, well laid on. Does he forget, and omit to pull off his hat, when +approaching a white person? Then, he must, or may be, whipped for his bad +manners. Does he ever venture to vindicate his conduct, when harshly and +unjustly accused? Then, he is guilty of impudence, one of the greatest crimes +in the social catalogue of southern society. To allow a slave to escape +punishment, who has impudently attempted to exculpate himself from unjust +charges, preferred against him by some white person, is to be guilty of great +dereliction of duty. Does a slave ever venture to suggest a better way of doing +a thing, no matter what? He is, altogether, too officious—wise above what +is written—and he deserves, even if he does not get, a flogging for his +presumption. Does he, while plowing, break a plow, or while hoeing, break a +hoe, or while chopping, break an ax? No matter what were the imperfections of +the implement broken, or the natural liabilities for breaking, the slave can be +whipped for carelessness. The <i>reverend</i> slaveholder could always find +something of this sort, to justify him in using the lash several times during +the week. Hopkins—like Covey and Weeden—were shunned by slaves who +had the privilege (as many had) of finding their own masters at the end of each +year; and yet, there was not a man in all that section of country, who made a +louder profession of religion, than did MR. RIGBY HOPKINS. +</p> + +<p> +But, to continue the thread of my story, through my experience when at Mr. +William Freeland’s. +</p> + +<p> +My poor, weather-beaten bark now reached smoother water, and gentler breezes. +My stormy life at Covey’s had been of service to me. The things that +would have seemed very hard, had I gone direct to Mr. Freeland’s, from +the home of Master Thomas, were now (after the hardships at Covey’s) +“trifles light as air.” I was still a field hand, and had come to +prefer the severe labor of the field, to the enervating duties of a house +servant. I had become large and strong; and had begun to take pride in the +fact, that I could do as much hard work as some of the older men. There is much +rivalry among slaves, at times, as to which can do the most work, and masters +generally seek to promote such rivalry. But some of us were too wise to race +with each other very long. Such racing, we had the sagacity to see, was not +likely to pay. We had our times for measuring each other’s strength, but +we knew too much to keep up the competition so long as to produce an +extraordinary day’s work. We knew that if, by extraordinary exertion, a +large quantity of work was done in one day, the fact, becoming known to the +master, might lead him to require the same amount every day. This thought was +enough to bring us to a dead halt when over so much excited for the race. +</p> + +<p> +At Mr. Freeland’s, my condition was every way improved. I was no longer +the poor scape-goat that I was when at Covey’s, where every wrong thing +done was saddled upon me, and where other slaves were whipped over my +shoulders. Mr. Freeland was too just a man thus to impose upon me, or upon any +one else. +</p> + +<p> +It is quite usual to make one slave the object of especial abuse, and to beat +him often, with a view to its effect upon others, rather than with any +expectation that the slave whipped will be improved by it, but the man with +whom I now was, could descend to no such meanness and wickedness. Every man +here was held individually responsible for his own conduct. +</p> + +<p> +This was a vast improvement on the rule at Covey’s. There, I was the +general pack horse. Bill Smith was protected, by a positive prohibition made by +his rich master, and the command of the rich slaveholder is LAW to the poor +one; Hughes was favored, because of his relationship to Covey; and the hands +hired temporarily, escaped flogging, except as they got it over my poor +shoulders. Of course, this comparison refers to the time when Covey +<i>could</i> whip me. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Freeland, like Mr. Covey, gave his hands enough to eat, but, unlike Mr. +Covey, he gave them time to take their meals; he worked us hard during the day, +but gave us the night for rest—another advantage to be set to the credit +of the sinner, as against that of the saint. We were seldom in the field after +dark in the evening, or before sunrise in the morning. Our implements of +husbandry were of the most improved pattern, and much superior to those used at +Covey’s. +</p> + +<p> +Nothwithstanding the improved condition which was now mine, and the many +advantages I had gained by my new home, and my new master, I was still restless +and discontented. I was about as hard to please by a master, as a master is by +slave. The freedom from bodily torture and unceasing labor, had given my mind +an increased sensibility, and imparted to it greater activity. I was not yet +exactly in right relations. “How be it, that was not first which is +spiritual, but that which is natural, and afterward that which is +spiritual.” When entombed at Covey’s, shrouded in darkness and +physical wretchedness, temporal wellbeing was the grand <i>desideratum;</i> +but, temporal wants supplied, the spirit puts in its claims. Beat and cuff your +slave, keep him hungry and spiritless, and he will follow the chain of his +master like a dog; but, feed and clothe him well—work him +moderately—surround him with physical comfort—and dreams of freedom +intrude. Give him a <i>bad</i> master, and he aspires to a <i>good</i> master; +give him a good master, and he wishes to become his <i>own</i> master. Such is +human nature. You may hurl a man so low, beneath the level of his kind, that he +loses all just ideas of his natural position; but elevate him a little, and the +clear conception of rights arises to life and power, and leads him onward. Thus +elevated, a little, at Freeland’s, the dreams called into being by that +good man, Father Lawson, when in Baltimore, began to visit me; and shoots from +the tree of liberty began to put forth tender buds, and dim hopes of the future +began to dawn. +</p> + +<p> +I found myself in congenial society, at Mr. Freeland’s. There were Henry +Harris, John Harris, Handy Caldwell, and Sandy Jenkins. <a href="#linknote-6" +name="linknoteref-6"><small>6</small></a> +</p> + +<p> +Henry and John were brothers, and belonged to Mr. Freeland. They were both +remarkably bright and intelligent, though neither of them could read. Now for +mischief! I had not been long at Freeland’s before I was up to my old +tricks. I early began to address my companions on the subject of education, and +the advantages of intelligence over ignorance, and, as far as I dared, I tried +to show the agency of ignorance in keeping men in slavery. Webster’s +spelling book and the <i>Columbian Orator</i> were looked into again. As summer +came on, and the long Sabbath days stretched themselves over our idleness, I +became uneasy, and wanted a Sabbath school, in which to exercise my gifts, and +to impart the little knowledge of letters which I possessed, to my brother +slaves. A house was hardly necessary in the summer time; I could hold my school +under the shade of an old oak tree, as well as any where else. The thing was, +to get the scholars, and to have them thoroughly imbued with the desire to +learn. Two such boys were quickly secured, in Henry and John, and from them the +contagion spread. I was not long bringing around me twenty or thirty young men, +who enrolled themselves, gladly, in my Sabbath school, and were willing to meet +me regularly, under the trees or elsewhere, for the purpose of learning to +read. It was surprising with what ease they provided themselves with spelling +books. These were mostly the cast off books of their young masters or +mistresses. I taught, at first, on our own farm. All were impressed with the +necessity of keeping the matter as private as possible, for the fate of the St. +Michael’s attempt was notorious, and fresh in the minds of all. Our pious +masters, at St. Michael’s, must not know that a few of their dusky +brothers were learning to read the word of God, lest they should come down upon +us with the lash and chain. We might have met to drink whisky, to wrestle, +fight, and to do other unseemly things, with no fear of interruption from the +saints or sinners of St. Michael’s. +</p> + +<p> +But, to meet for the purpose of improving the mind and heart, by learning to +read the sacred scriptures, was esteemed a most dangerous nuisance, to be +instantly stopped. The slaveholders of St. Michael’s, like slaveholders +elsewhere, would always prefer to see the slaves engaged in degrading sports, +rather than to see them acting like moral and accountable beings. +</p> + +<p> +Had any one asked a religious white man, in St. Michael’s, twenty years +ago, the names of three men in that town, whose lives were most after the +pattern of our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, the first three would have been +as follows: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +GARRISON WEST, <i>Class Leader</i>.<br/> +WRIGHT FAIRBANKS, <i>Class Leader</i>.<br/> +THOMAS AULD, <i>Class Leader</i>. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, these were men who ferociously rushed in upon my Sabbath school, at +St. Michael’s, armed with mob-like missiles, and I must say, I thought +him a Christian, until he took part in bloody by the lash. This same Garrison +West was my class leader, and I must say, I thought him a Christian, until he +took part in breaking up my school. He led me no more after that. The plea for +this outrage was then, as it is now and at all times—the danger to good +order. If the slaves learnt to read, they would learn something else, and +something worse. The peace of slavery would be disturbed; slave rule would be +endangered. I leave the reader to characterize a system which is endangered by +such causes. I do not dispute the soundness of the reasoning. It is perfectly +sound; and, if slavery be <i>right</i>, Sabbath schools for teaching slaves to +read the bible are <i>wrong</i>, and ought to be put down. These Christian +class leaders were, to this extent, consistent. They had settled the question, +that slavery is <i>right</i>, and, by that standard, they determined that +Sabbath schools are wrong. To be sure, they were Protestant, and held to the +great Protestant right of every man to <i>“search the +scriptures”</i> for himself; but, then, to all general rules, there are +<i>exceptions</i>. How convenient! What crimes may not be committed under the +doctrine of the last remark. But, my dear, class leading Methodist brethren, +did not condescend to give me a reason for breaking up the Sabbath school at +St. Michael’s; it was enough that they had determined upon its +destruction. I am, however, digressing. +</p> + +<p> +After getting the school cleverly into operation, the second time holding it in +the woods, behind the barn, and in the shade of trees—I succeeded in +inducing a free colored man, who lived several miles from our house, to permit +me to hold my school in a room at his house. He, very kindly, gave me this +liberty; but he incurred much peril in doing so, for the assemblage was an +unlawful one. I shall not mention, here, the name of this man; for it might, +even now, subject him to persecution, although the offenses were committed more +than twenty years ago. I had, at one time, more than forty scholars, all of the +right sort; and many of them succeeded in learning to read. I have met several +slaves from Maryland, who were once my scholars; and who obtained their +freedom, I doubt not, partly in consequence of the ideas imparted to them in +that school. I have had various employments during my short life; but I look +back to <i>none</i> with more satisfaction, than to that afforded by my Sunday +school. An attachment, deep and lasting, sprung up between me and my persecuted +pupils, which made parting from them intensely grievous; and, when I think that +most of these dear souls are yet shut up in this abject thralldom, I am +overwhelmed with grief. +</p> + +<p> +Besides my Sunday school, I devoted three evenings a week to my fellow slaves, +during the winter. Let the reader reflect upon the fact, that, in this +christian country, men and women are hiding from professors of religion, in +barns, in the woods and fields, in order to learn to read the <i>holy +bible</i>. Those dear souls, who came to my Sabbath school, came <i>not</i> +because it was popular or reputable to attend such a place, for they came under +the liability of having forty stripes laid on their naked backs. Every moment +they spend in my school, they were under this terrible liability; and, in this +respect, I was sharer with them. Their minds had been cramped and starved by +their cruel masters; the light of education had been completely excluded; and +their hard earnings had been taken to educate their master’s children. I +felt a delight in circumventing the tyrants, and in blessing the victims of +their curses. +</p> + +<p> +The year at Mr. Freeland’s passed off very smoothly, to outward seeming. +Not a blow was given me during the whole year. To the credit of Mr. +Freeland—irreligious though he was—it must be stated, that he was +the best master I ever had, until I became my own master, and assumed for +myself, as I had a right to do, the responsibility of my own existence and the +exercise of my own powers. For much of the happiness—or absence of +misery—with which I passed this year with Mr. Freeland, I am indebted to +the genial temper and ardent friendship of my brother slaves. They were, every +one of them, manly, generous and brave, yes; I say they were brave, and I will +add, fine looking. It is seldom the lot of mortals to have truer and better +friends than were the slaves on this farm. It is not uncommon to charge slaves +with great treachery toward each other, and to believe them incapable of +confiding in each other; but I must say, that I never loved, esteemed, or +confided in men, more than I did in these. They were as true as steel, and no +band of brothers could have been more loving. There were no mean advantages +taken of each other, as is sometimes the case where slaves are situated as we +were; no tattling; no giving each other bad names to Mr. Freeland; and no +elevating one at the expense of the other. We never undertook to do any thing, +of any importance, which was likely to affect each other, without mutual +consultation. We were generally a unit, and moved together. Thoughts and +sentiments were exchanged between us, which might well be called very +incendiary, by oppressors and tyrants; and perhaps the time has not even now +come, when it is safe to unfold all the flying suggestions which arise in the +minds of intelligent slaves. Several of my friends and brothers, if yet alive, +are still in some part of the house of bondage; and though twenty years have +passed away, the suspicious malice of slavery might punish them for even +listening to my thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +The slaveholder, kind or cruel, is a slaveholder still—the every hour +violator of the just and inalienable rights of man; and he is, therefore, every +hour silently whetting the knife of vengeance for his own throat. He never +lisps a syllable in commendation of the fathers of this republic, nor denounces +any attempted oppression of himself, without inviting the knife to his own +throat, and asserting the rights of rebellion for his own slaves. +</p> + +<p> +The year is ended, and we are now in the midst of the Christmas holidays, which +are kept this year as last, according to the general description previously +given. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"></a> +CHAPTER XIX. <i>The Run-Away Plot</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +NEW YEAR’S THOUGHTS AND MEDITATIONS—AGAIN BOUGHT BY +FREELAND—NO AMBITION TO BE A SLAVE—KINDNESS NO COMPENSATION FOR +SLAVERY—INCIPIENT STEPS TOWARD ESCAPE—CONSIDERATIONS LEADING +THERETO—IRRECONCILABLE HOSTILITY TO SLAVERY—SOLEMN VOW +TAKEN—PLAN DIVULGED TO THE SLAVES—<i>Columbian +Orator—</i>SCHEME GAINS FAVOR, DESPITE PRO-SLAVERY PREACHING—DANGER +OF DISCOVERY—SKILL OF SLAVEHOLDERS IN READING THE MINDS OF THEIR +SLAVES—SUSPICION AND COERCION—HYMNS WITH DOUBLE +MEANING—VALUE, IN DOLLARS, OF OUR COMPANY—PRELIMINARY +CONSULTATION—PASS-WORD—CONFLICTS OF HOPE AND +FEAR—DIFFICULTIES TO BE OVERCOME—IGNORANCE OF +GEOGRAPHY—SURVEY OF IMAGINARY DIFFICULTIES—EFFECT ON OUR +MINDS—PATRICK HENRY—SANDY BECOMES A DREAMER—ROUTE TO THE +NORTH LAID OUT—OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED—FRAUDS PRACTICED ON +FREEMEN—PASSES WRITTEN—ANXIETIES AS THE TIME DREW NEAR—DREAD +OF FAILURE—APPEALS TO COMRADES—STRANGE +PRESENTIMENT—COINCIDENCE—THE BETRAYAL DISCOVERED—THE MANNER +OF ARRESTING US—RESISTANCE MADE BY HENRY HARRIS—ITS +EFFECT—THE UNIQUE SPEECH OF MRS. FREELAND—OUR SAD PROCESSION TO +PRISON—BRUTAL JEERS BY THE MULTITUDE ALONG THE ROAD—PASSES +EATEN—THE DENIAL—SANDY TOO WELL LOVED TO BE SUSPECTED—DRAGGED +BEHIND HORSES—THE JAIL A RELIEF—A NEW SET OF +TORMENTORS—SLAVE-TRADERS—JOHN, CHARLES AND HENRY +RELEASED—ALONE IN PRISON—I AM TAKEN OUT, AND SENT TO BALTIMORE. +</p> + +<p> +I am now at the beginning of the year 1836, a time favorable for serious +thoughts. The mind naturally occupies itself with the mysteries of life in all +its phases—the ideal, the real and the actual. Sober people look both +ways at the beginning of the year, surveying the errors of the past, and +providing against possible errors of the future. I, too, was thus exercised. I +had little pleasure in retrospect, and the prospect was not very brilliant. +“Notwithstanding,” thought I, “the many resolutions and +prayers I have made, in behalf of freedom, I am, this first day of the year +1836, still a slave, still wandering in the depths of spirit-devouring +thralldom. My faculties and powers of body and soul are not my own, but are the +property of a fellow mortal, in no sense superior to me, except that he has the +physical power to compel me to be owned and controlled by him. By the combined +physical force of the community, I am his slave—a slave for life.” +With thoughts like these, I was perplexed and chafed; they rendered me gloomy +and disconsolate. The anguish of my mind may not be written. +</p> + +<p> +At the close of the year 1835, Mr. Freeland, my temporary master, had bought me +of Capt. Thomas Auld, for the year 1836. His promptness in securing my +services, would have been flattering to my vanity, had I been ambitious to win +the reputation of being a valuable slave. Even as it was, I felt a slight +degree of complacency at the circumstance. It showed he was as well pleased +with me as a slave, as I was with him as a master. I have already intimated my +regard for Mr. Freeland, and I may say here, in addressing northern +readers—where is no selfish motive for speaking in praise of a +slaveholder—that Mr. Freeland was a man of many excellent qualities, and +to me quite preferable to any master I ever had. +</p> + +<p> +But the kindness of the slavemaster only gilds the chain of slavery, and +detracts nothing from its weight or power. The thought that men are made for +other and better uses than slavery, thrives best under the gentle treatment of +a kind master. But the grim visage of slavery can assume no smiles which can +fascinate the partially enlightened slave, into a forgetfulness of his bondage, +nor of the desirableness of liberty. +</p> + +<p> +I was not through the first month of this, my second year with the kind and +gentlemanly Mr. Freeland, before I was earnestly considering and advising plans +for gaining that freedom, which, when I was but a mere child, I had ascertained +to be the natural and inborn right of every member of the human family. The +desire for this freedom had been benumbed, while I was under the brutalizing +dominion of Covey; and it had been postponed, and rendered inoperative, by my +truly pleasant Sunday school engagements with my friends, during the year 1835, +at Mr. Freeland’s. It had, however, never entirely subsided. I hated +slavery, always, and the desire for freedom only needed a favorable breeze, to +fan it into a blaze, at any moment. The thought of only being a creature of the +<i>present</i> and the <i>past</i>, troubled me, and I longed to have a +<i>future</i>—a future with hope in it. To be shut up entirely to the +past and present, is abhorrent to the human mind; it is to the soul—whose +life and happiness is unceasing progress—what the prison is to the body; +a blight and mildew, a hell of horrors. The dawning of this, another year, +awakened me from my temporary slumber, and roused into life my latent, but long +cherished aspirations for freedom. I was now not only ashamed to be contented +in slavery, but ashamed to <i>seem</i> to be contented, and in my present +favorable condition, under the mild rule of Mr. F., I am not sure that some +kind reader will not condemn me for being over ambitious, and greatly wanting +in proper humility, when I say the truth, that I now drove from me all thoughts +of making the best of my lot, and welcomed only such thoughts as led me away +from the house of bondage. The intense desires, now felt, <i>to be free</i>, +quickened by my present favorable circumstances, brought me to the +determination to act, as well as to think and speak. Accordingly, at the +beginning of this year 1836, I took upon me a solemn vow, that the year which +had now dawned upon me should not close, without witnessing an earnest attempt, +on my part, to gain my liberty. This vow only bound me to make my escape +individually; but the year spent with Mr. Freeland had attached me, as with +“hooks of steel,” to my brother slaves. The most affectionate and +confiding friendship existed between us; and I felt it my duty to give them an +opportunity to share in my virtuous determination by frankly disclosing to them +my plans and purposes. Toward Henry and John Harris, I felt a friendship as +strong as one man can feel for another; for I could have died with and for +them. To them, therefore, with a suitable degree of caution, I began to +disclose my sentiments and plans; sounding them, the while on the subject of +running away, provided a good chance should offer. I scarcely need tell the +reader, that I did my <i>very best</i> to imbue the minds of my dear friends +with my own views and feelings. Thoroughly awakened, now, and with a definite +vow upon me, all my little reading, which had any bearing on the subject of +human rights, was rendered available in my communications with my friends. That +(to me) gem of a book, the <i>Columbian Orator</i>, with its eloquent orations +and spicy dialogues, denouncing oppression and slavery—telling of what +had been dared, done and suffered by men, to obtain the inestimable boon of +liberty—was still fresh in my memory, and whirled into the ranks of my +speech with the aptitude of well trained soldiers, going through the drill. The +fact is, I here began my public speaking. I canvassed, with Henry and John, the +subject of slavery, and dashed against it the condemning brand of God’s +eternal justice, which it every hour violates. My fellow servants were neither +indifferent, dull, nor inapt. Our feelings were more alike than our opinions. +All, however, were ready to act, when a feasible plan should be proposed. +“Show us <i>how</i> the thing is to be done,” said they, “and +all is clear.” +</p> + +<p> +We were all, except Sandy, quite free from slaveholding priestcraft. It was in +vain that we had been taught from the pulpit at St. Michael’s, the duty +of obedience to our masters; to recognize God as the author of our enslavement; +to regard running away an offense, alike against God and man; to deem our +enslavement a merciful and beneficial arrangement; to esteem our condition, in +this country, a paradise to that from which we had been snatched in Africa; to +consider our hard hands and dark color as God’s mark of displeasure, and +as pointing us out as the proper subjects of slavery; that the relation of +master and slave was one of reciprocal benefits; that our work was not more +serviceable to our masters, than our master’s thinking was serviceable to +us. I say, it was in vain that the pulpit of St. Michael’s had constantly +inculcated these plausible doctrine. Nature laughed them to scorn. For my own +part, I had now become altogether too big for my chains. Father Lawson’s +solemn words, of what I ought to be, and might be, in the providence of God, +had not fallen dead on my soul. I was fast verging toward manhood, and the +prophecies of my childhood were still unfulfilled. The thought, that year after +year had passed away, and my resolutions to run away had failed and +faded—that I was <i>still a slave</i>, and a slave, too, with chances for +gaining my freedom diminished and still diminishing—was not a matter to +be slept over easily; nor did I easily sleep over it. +</p> + +<p> +But here came a new trouble. Thoughts and purposes so incendiary as those I now +cherished, could not agitate the mind long, without danger of making themselves +manifest to scrutinizing and unfriendly beholders. I had reason to fear that my +sable face might prove altogether too transparent for the safe concealment of +my hazardous enterprise. Plans of greater moment have leaked through stone +walls, and revealed their projectors. But, here was no stone wall to hide my +purpose. I would have given my poor, tell tale face for the immoveable +countenance of an Indian, for it was far from being proof against the daily, +searching glances of those with whom I met. +</p> + +<p> +It is the interest and business of slaveholders to study human nature, with a +view to practical results, and many of them attain astonishing proficiency in +discerning the thoughts and emotions of slaves. They have to deal not with +earth, wood, or stone, but with <i>men;</i> and, by every regard they have for +their safety and prosperity, they must study to know the material on which they +are at work. So much intellect as the slaveholder has around him, requires +watching. Their safety depends upon their vigilance. Conscious of the injustice +and wrong they are every hour perpetrating, and knowing what they themselves +would do if made the victims of such wrongs, they are looking out for the first +signs of the dread retribution of justice. They watch, therefore, with skilled +and practiced eyes, and have learned to read, with great accuracy, the state of +mind and heart of the slaves, through his sable face. These uneasy sinners are +quick to inquire into the matter, where the slave is concerned. Unusual +sobriety, apparent abstraction, sullenness and indifference—indeed, any +mood out of the common way—afford ground for suspicion and inquiry. Often +relying on their superior position and wisdom, they hector and torture the +slave into a confession, by affecting to know the truth of their accusations. +“You have got the devil in you,” say they, “and we will whip +him out of you.” I have often been put thus to the torture, on bare +suspicion. This system has its disadvantages as well as their opposite. The +slave is sometimes whipped into the confession of offenses which he never +committed. The reader will see that the good old rule—“a man is to +be held innocent until proved to be guilty”—does not hold good on +the slave plantation. Suspicion and torture are the approved methods of getting +at the truth, here. It was necessary for me, therefore, to keep a watch over my +deportment, lest the enemy should get the better of me. +</p> + +<p> +But with all our caution and studied reserve, I am not sure that Mr. Freeland +did not suspect that all was not right with us. It <i>did</i> seem that he +watched us more narrowly, after the plan of escape had been conceived and +discussed amongst us. Men seldom see themselves as others see them; and while, +to ourselves, everything connected with our contemplated escape appeared +concealed, Mr. Freeland may have, with the peculiar prescience of a +slaveholder, mastered the huge thought which was disturbing our peace in +slavery. +</p> + +<p> +I am the more inclined to think that he suspected us, because, prudent as we +were, as I now look back, I can see that we did many silly things, very well +calculated to awaken suspicion. We were, at times, remarkably buoyant, singing +hymns and making joyous exclamations, almost as triumphant in their tone as if +we reached a land of freedom and safety. A keen observer might have detected in +our repeated singing of +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<i>O Canaan, sweet Canaan,<br/> +I am bound for the land of Canaan,</i> +</p> + +<p> +something more than a hope of reaching heaven. We meant to reach the +<i>north</i>—and the north was our Canaan. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<i>I thought I heard them say,<br/> +There were lions in the way,<br/> +I don’t expect to Star<br/> +Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Much longer here.</i><br/> +<br/> +<i>Run to Jesus—shun the danger—<br/> +I don’t expect to stay<br/> +Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Much longer here</i>. +</p> + +<p> +was a favorite air, and had a double meaning. In the lips of some, it meant the +expectation of a speedy summons to a world of spirits; but, in the lips of +<i>our</i> company, it simply meant, a speedy pilgrimage toward a free state, +and deliverance from all the evils and dangers of slavery. +</p> + +<p> +I had succeeded in winning to my (what slaveholders would call wicked) scheme, +a company of five young men, the very flower of the neighborhood, each one of +whom would have commanded one thousand dollars in the home market. At New +Orleans, they would have brought fifteen hundred dollars a piece, and, perhaps, +more. The names of our party were as follows: Henry Harris; John Harris, +brother to Henry; Sandy Jenkins, of root memory; Charles Roberts, and Henry +Bailey. I was the youngest, but one, of the party. I had, however, the +advantage of them all, in experience, and in a knowledge of letters. This gave +me great influence over them. Perhaps not one of them, left to himself, would +have dreamed of escape as a possible thing. Not one of them was self-moved in +the matter. They all wanted to be free; but the serious thought of running +away, had not entered into their minds, until I won them to the undertaking. +They all were tolerably well off—for slaves—and had dim hopes of +being set free, some day, by their masters. If any one is to blame for +disturbing the quiet of the slaves and slave-masters of the neighborhood of St. +Michael’s, <i>I am the man</i>. I claim to be the instigator of the high +crime (as the slaveholders regard it) and I kept life in it, until life could +be kept in it no longer. +</p> + +<p> +Pending the time of our contemplated departure out of our Egypt, we met often +by night, and on every Sunday. At these meetings we talked the matter over; +told our hopes and fears, and the difficulties discovered or imagined; and, +like men of sense, we counted the cost of the enterprise to which we were +committing ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +These meetings must have resembled, on a small scale, the meetings of +revolutionary conspirators, in their primary condition. We were plotting +against our (so called) lawful rulers; with this difference that we sought our +own good, and not the harm of our enemies. We did not seek to overthrow them, +but to escape from them. As for Mr. Freeland, we all liked him, and would have +gladly remained with him, <i>as freeman</i>. LIBERTY was our aim; and we had +now come to think that we had a right to liberty, against every obstacle even +against the lives of our enslavers. +</p> + +<p> +We had several words, expressive of things, important to us, which we +understood, but which, even if distinctly heard by an outsider, would convey no +certain meaning. I have reasons for suppressing these <i>pass-words</i>, which +the reader will easily divine. I hated the secrecy; but where slavery is +powerful, and liberty is weak, the latter is driven to concealment or to +destruction. +</p> + +<p> +The prospect was not always a bright one. At times, we were almost tempted to +abandon the enterprise, and to get back to that comparative peace of mind, +which even a man under the gallows might feel, when all hope of escape had +vanished. Quiet bondage was felt to be better than the doubts, fears and +uncertainties, which now so sadly perplexed and disturbed us. +</p> + +<p> +The infirmities of humanity, generally, were represented in our little band. We +were confident, bold and determined, at times; and, again, doubting, timid and +wavering; whistling, like the boy in the graveyard, to keep away the spirits. +</p> + +<p> +To look at the map, and observe the proximity of Eastern Shore, Maryland, to +Delaware and Pennsylvania, it may seem to the reader quite absurd, to regard +the proposed escape as a formidable undertaking. But to <i>understand</i>, some +one has said a man must <i>stand under</i>. The real distance was great enough, +but the imagined distance was, to our ignorance, even greater. Every +slaveholder seeks to impress his slave with a belief in the boundlessness of +slave territory, and of his own almost illimitable power. We all had vague and +indistinct notions of the geography of the country. +</p> + +<p> +The distance, however, is not the chief trouble. The nearer are the lines of a +slave state and the borders of a free one, the greater the peril. Hired +kidnappers infest these borders. Then, too, we knew that merely reaching a free +state did not free us; that, wherever caught, we could be returned to slavery. +We could see no spot on this side the ocean, where we could be free. We had +heard of Canada, the real Canaan of the American bondmen, simply as a country +to which the wild goose and the swan repaired at the end of winter, to escape +the heat of summer, but not as the home of man. I knew something of theology, +but nothing of geography. I really did not, at that time, know that there was a +state of New York, or a state of Massachusetts. I had heard of Pennsylvania, +Delaware and New Jersey, and all the southern states, but was ignorant of the +free states, generally. New York city was our northern limit, and to go there, +and be forever harassed with the liability of being hunted down and returned to +slavery—with the certainty of being treated ten times worse than we had +ever been treated before was a prospect far from delightful, and it might well +cause some hesitation about engaging in the enterprise. The case, sometimes, to +our excited visions, stood thus: At every gate through which we had to pass, we +saw a watchman; at every ferry, a guard; on every bridge, a sentinel; and in +every wood, a patrol or slave-hunter. We were hemmed in on every side. The good +to be sought, and the evil to be shunned, were flung in the balance, and +weighed against each other. On the one hand, there stood slavery; a stern +reality, glaring frightfully upon us, with the blood of millions in his +polluted skirts—terrible to behold—greedily devouring our hard +earnings and feeding himself upon our flesh. Here was the evil from which to +escape. On the other hand, far away, back in the hazy distance, where all forms +seemed but shadows, under the flickering light of the north star—behind +some craggy hill or snow-covered mountain—stood a doubtful freedom, half +frozen, beckoning us to her icy domain. This was the good to be sought. The +inequality was as great as that between certainty and uncertainty. This, in +itself, was enough to stagger us; but when we came to survey the untrodden +road, and conjecture the many possible difficulties, we were appalled, and at +times, as I have said, were upon the point of giving over the struggle +altogether. +</p> + +<p> +The reader can have little idea of the phantoms of trouble which flit, in such +circumstances, before the uneducated mind of the slave. Upon either side, we +saw grim death assuming a variety of horrid shapes. Now, it was starvation, +causing us, in a strange and friendless land, to eat our own flesh. Now, we +were contending with the waves (for our journey was in part by water) and were +drowned. Now, we were hunted by dogs, and overtaken and torn to pieces by their +merciless fangs. We were stung by scorpions—chased by wild +beasts—bitten by snakes; and, worst of all, after having succeeded in +swimming rivers—encountering wild beasts—sleeping in the +woods—suffering hunger, cold, heat and nakedness—we supposed +ourselves to be overtaken by hired kidnappers, who, in the name of the law, and +for their thrice accursed reward, would, perchance, fire upon us—kill +some, wound others, and capture all. This dark picture, drawn by ignorance and +fear, at times greatly shook our determination, and not unfrequently caused us +to +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Rather bear those ills we had<br/> +Than fly to others which we knew not of. +</p> + +<p> +I am not disposed to magnify this circumstance in my experience, and yet I +think I shall seem to be so disposed, to the reader. No man can tell the +intense agony which is felt by the slave, when wavering on the point of making +his escape. All that he has is at stake; and even that which he has not, is at +stake, also. The life which he has, may be lost, and the liberty which he +seeks, may not be gained. +</p> + +<p> +Patrick Henry, to a listening senate, thrilled by his magic eloquence, and +ready to stand by him in his boldest flights, could say, GIVE ME LIBERTY OR +GIVE ME DEATH, and this saying was a sublime one, even for a freeman; but, +incomparably more sublime, is the same sentiment, when <i>practically</i> +asserted by men accustomed to the lash and chain—men whose sensibilities +must have become more or less deadened by their bondage. With us it was a +<i>doubtful</i> liberty, at best, that we sought; and a certain, lingering +death in the rice swamps and sugar fields, if we failed. Life is not lightly +regarded by men of sane minds. It is precious, alike to the pauper and to the +prince—to the slave, and to his master; and yet, I believe there was not +one among us, who would not rather have been shot down, than pass away life in +hopeless bondage. +</p> + +<p> +In the progress of our preparations, Sandy, the root man, became troubled. He +began to have dreams, and some of them were very distressing. One of these, +which happened on a Friday night, was, to him, of great significance; and I am +quite ready to confess, that I felt somewhat damped by it myself. He said, +“I dreamed, last night, that I was roused from sleep, by strange noises, +like the voices of a swarm of angry birds, that caused a roar as they passed, +which fell upon my ear like a coming gale over the tops of the trees. Looking +up to see what it could mean,” said Sandy, “I saw you, Frederick, +in the claws of a huge bird, surrounded by a large number of birds, of all +colors and sizes. These were all picking at you, while you, with your arms, +seemed to be trying to protect your eyes. Passing over me, the birds flew in a +south-westerly direction, and I watched them until they were clean out of +sight. Now, I saw this as plainly as I now see you; and furder, honey, watch de +Friday night dream; dare is sumpon in it, shose you born; dare is, indeed, +honey.” +</p> + +<p> +I confess I did not like this dream; but I threw off concern about it, by +attributing it to the general excitement and perturbation consequent upon our +contemplated plan of escape. I could not, however, shake off its effect at +once. I felt that it boded me no good. Sandy was unusually emphatic and +oracular, and his manner had much to do with the impression made upon me. +</p> + +<p> +The plan of escape which I recommended, and to which my comrades assented, was +to take a large canoe, owned by Mr. Hamilton, and, on the Saturday night +previous to the Easter holidays, launch out into the Chesapeake bay, and paddle +for its head—a distance of seventy miles with all our might. Our course, +on reaching this point, was, to turn the canoe adrift, and bend our steps +toward the north star, till we reached a free state. +</p> + +<p> +There were several objections to this plan. One was, the danger from gales on +the bay. In rough weather, the waters of the Chesapeake are much agitated, and +there is danger, in a canoe, of being swamped by the waves. Another objection +was, that the canoe would soon be missed; the absent persons would, at once, be +suspected of having taken it; and we should be pursued by some of the fast +sailing bay craft out of St. Michael’s. Then, again, if we reached the +head of the bay, and turned the canoe adrift, she might prove a guide to our +track, and bring the land hunters after us. +</p> + +<p> +These and other objections were set aside, by the stronger ones which could be +urged against every other plan that could then be suggested. On the water, we +had a chance of being regarded as fishermen, in the service of a master. On the +other hand, by taking the land route, through the counties adjoining Delaware, +we should be subjected to all manner of interruptions, and many very +disagreeable questions, which might give us serious trouble. Any white man is +authorized to stop a man of color, on any road, and examine him, and arrest +him, if he so desires. +</p> + +<p> +By this arrangement, many abuses (considered such even by slaveholders) occur. +Cases have been known, where freemen have been called upon to show their free +papers, by a pack of ruffians—and, on the presentation of the papers, the +ruffians have torn them up, and seized their victim, and sold him to a life of +endless bondage. +</p> + +<p> +The week before our intended start, I wrote a pass for each of our party, +giving them permission to visit Baltimore, during the Easter holidays. The pass +ran after this manner: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +This is to certify, that I, the undersigned, have given the bearer, my servant, +John, full liberty to go to Baltimore, to spend the Easter holidays. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +W.H.<br/> +Near St. Michael’s, Talbot county, Maryland +</p> + +<p> +Although we were not going to Baltimore, and were intending to land east of +North Point, in the direction where I had seen the Philadelphia steamers go, +these passes might be made useful to us in the lower part of the bay, while +steering toward Baltimore. These were not, however, to be shown by us, until +all other answers failed to satisfy the inquirer. We were all fully alive to +the importance of being calm and self-possessed, when accosted, if accosted we +should be; and we more times than one rehearsed to each other how we should +behave in the hour of trial. +</p> + +<p> +These were long, tedious days and nights. The suspense was painful, in the +extreme. To balance probabilities, where life and liberty hang on the result, +requires steady nerves. I panted for action, and was glad when the day, at the +close of which we were to start, dawned upon us. Sleeping, the night before, +was out of the question. I probably felt more deeply than any of my companions, +because I was the instigator of the movement. The responsibility of the whole +enterprise rested on my shoulders. The glory of success, and the shame and +confusion of failure, could not be matters of indifference to me. Our food was +prepared; our clothes were packed up; we were all ready to go, and impatient +for Saturday morning—considering that the last morning of our bondage. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot describe the tempest and tumult of my brain, that morning. The reader +will please to bear in mind, that, in a slave state, an unsuccessful runaway is +not only subjected to cruel torture, and sold away to the far south, but he is +frequently execrated by the other slaves. He is charged with making the +condition of the other slaves intolerable, by laying them all under the +suspicion of their masters—subjecting them to greater vigilance, and +imposing greater limitations on their privileges. I dreaded murmurs from this +quarter. It is difficult, too, for a slavemaster to believe that slaves +escaping have not been aided in their flight by some one of their fellow +slaves. When, therefore, a slave is missing, every slave on the place is +closely examined as to his knowledge of the undertaking; and they are sometimes +even tortured, to make them disclose what they are suspected of knowing of such +escape. +</p> + +<p> +Our anxiety grew more and more intense, as the time of our intended departure +for the north drew nigh. It was truly felt to be a matter of life and death +with us; and we fully intended to <i>fight</i> as well as <i>run</i>, if +necessity should occur for that extremity. But the trial hour was not yet to +come. It was easy to resolve, but not so easy to act. I expected there might be +some drawing back, at the last. It was natural that there should be; therefore, +during the intervening time, I lost no opportunity to explain away +difficulties, to remove doubts, to dispel fears, and to inspire all with +firmness. It was too late to look back; and <i>now</i> was the time to go +forward. Like most other men, we had done the talking part of our work, long +and well; and the time had come to <i>act</i> as if we were in earnest, and +meant to be as true in action as in words. I did not forget to appeal to the +pride of my comrades, by telling them that, if after having solemnly promised +to go, as they had done, they now failed to make the attempt, they would, in +effect, brand themselves with cowardice, and might as well sit down, fold their +arms, and acknowledge themselves as fit only to be <i>slaves</i>. This +detestable character, all were unwilling to assume. Every man except Sandy (he, +much to our regret, withdrew) stood firm; and at our last meeting we pledged +ourselves afresh, and in the most solemn manner, that, at the time appointed, +we <i>would</i> certainly start on our long journey for a free country. This +meeting was in the middle of the week, at the end of which we were to start. +</p> + +<p> +Early that morning we went, as usual, to the field, but with hearts that beat +quickly and anxiously. Any one intimately acquainted with us, might have seen +that all was not well with us, and that some monster lingered in our thoughts. +Our work that morning was the same as it had been for several days +past—drawing out and spreading manure. While thus engaged, I had a sudden +presentiment, which flashed upon me like lightning in a dark night, revealing +to the lonely traveler the gulf before, and the enemy behind. I instantly +turned to Sandy Jenkins, who was near me, and said to him, <i>“Sandy, we +are betrayed;</i> something has just told me so.” I felt as sure of it, +as if the officers were there in sight. Sandy said, “Man, dat is strange; +but I feel just as you do.” If my mother—then long in her +grave—had appeared before me, and told me that we were betrayed, I could +not, at that moment, have felt more certain of the fact. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes after this, the long, low and distant notes of the horn +summoned us from the field to breakfast. I felt as one may be supposed to feel +before being led forth to be executed for some great offense. I wanted no +breakfast; but I went with the other slaves toward the house, for form’s +sake. My feelings were not disturbed as to the right of running away; on that +point I had no trouble, whatever. My anxiety arose from a sense of the +consequences of failure. +</p> + +<p> +In thirty minutes after that vivid presentiment came the apprehended crash. On +reaching the house, for breakfast, and glancing my eye toward the lane gate, +the worst was at once made known. The lane gate off Mr. Freeland’s house, +is nearly a half mile from the door, and shaded by the heavy wood which +bordered the main road. I was, however, able to descry four white men, and two +colored men, approaching. The white men were on horseback, and the colored men +were walking behind, and seemed to be tied. <i>“It is all over with +us,”</i> thought I, <i>“we are surely betrayed</i>.” I now +became composed, or at least comparatively so, and calmly awaited the result. I +watched the ill-omened company, till I saw them enter the gate. Successful +flight was impossible, and I made up my mind to stand, and meet the evil, +whatever it might be; for I was not without a slight hope that things might +turn differently from what I at first expected. In a few moments, in came Mr. +William Hamilton, riding very rapidly, and evidently much excited. He was in +the habit of riding very slowly, and was seldom known to gallop his horse. This +time, his horse was nearly at full speed, causing the dust to roll thick behind +him. Mr. Hamilton, though one of the most resolute men in the whole +neighborhood, was, nevertheless, a remarkably mild spoken man; and, even when +greatly excited, his language was cool and circumspect. He came to the door, +and inquired if Mr. Freeland was in. I told him that Mr. Freeland was at the +barn. Off the old gentleman rode, toward the barn, with unwonted speed. Mary, +the cook, was at a loss to know what was the matter, and I did not profess any +skill in making her understand. I knew she would have united, as readily as any +one, in cursing me for bringing trouble into the family; so I held my peace, +leaving matters to develop themselves, without my assistance. In a few moments, +Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Freeland came down from the barn to the house; and, just +as they made their appearance in the front yard, three men (who proved to be +constables) came dashing into the lane, on horseback, as if summoned by a sign +requiring quick work. A few seconds brought them into the front yard, where +they hastily dismounted, and tied their horses. This done, they joined Mr. +Freeland and Mr. Hamilton, who were standing a short distance from the kitchen. +A few moments were spent, as if in consulting how to proceed, and then the +whole party walked up to the kitchen door. There was now no one in the kitchen +but myself and John Harris. Henry and Sandy were yet at the barn. Mr. Freeland +came inside the kitchen door, and with an agitated voice, called me by name, +and told me to come forward; that there was some gentlemen who wished to see +me. I stepped toward them, at the door, and asked what they wanted, when the +constables grabbed me, and told me that I had better not resist; that I had +been in a scrape, or was said to have been in one; that they were merely going +to take me where I could be examined; that they were going to carry me to St. +Michael’s, to have me brought before my master. They further said, that, +in case the evidence against me was not true, I should be acquitted. I was now +firmly tied, and completely at the mercy of my captors. Resistance was idle. +They were five in number, armed to the very teeth. When they had secured me, +they next turned to John Harris, and, in a few moments, succeeded in tying him +as firmly as they had already tied me. They next turned toward Henry Harris, +who had now returned from the barn. “Cross your hands,” said the +constables, to Henry. “I won’t” said Henry, in a voice so +firm and clear, and in a manner so determined, as for a moment to arrest all +proceedings. “Won’t you cross your hands?” said Tom Graham, +the constable. “<i>No I won’t</i>,” said Henry, with +increasing emphasis. Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Freeland, and the officers, now came +near to Henry. Two of the constables drew out their shining pistols, and swore +by the name of God, that he should cross his hands, or they would shoot him +down. Each of these hired ruffians now cocked their pistols, and, with fingers +apparently on the triggers, presented their deadly weapons to the breast of the +unarmed slave, saying, at the same time, if he did not cross his hands, they +would “blow his d—d heart out of him.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>“Shoot! shoot me!”</i> said Henry. “<i>You can’t +kill me but once</i>. Shoot!—shoot! and be d—d. <i>I won’t be +tied</i>.” This, the brave fellow said in a voice as defiant and heroic +in its tone, as was the language itself; and, at the moment of saying this, +with the pistols at his very breast, he quickly raised his arms, and dashed +them from the puny hands of his assassins, the weapons flying in opposite +directions. Now came the struggle. All hands was now rushed upon the brave +fellow, and, after beating him for some time, they succeeded in overpowering +and tying him. Henry put me to shame; he fought, and fought bravely. John and I +had made no resistance. The fact is, I never see much use in fighting, unless +there is a reasonable probability of whipping somebody. Yet there was something +almost providential in the resistance made by the gallant Henry. But for that +resistance, every soul of us would have been hurried off to the far south. Just +a moment previous to the trouble with Henry, Mr. Hamilton <i>mildly</i> +said—and this gave me the unmistakable clue to the cause of our +arrest—“Perhaps we had now better make a search for those +protections, which we understand Frederick has written for himself and the +rest.” Had these passes been found, they would have been point blank +proof against us, and would have confirmed all the statements of our betrayer. +Thanks to the resistance of Henry, the excitement produced by the scuffle drew +all attention in that direction, and I succeeded in flinging my pass, +unobserved, into the fire. The confusion attendant upon the scuffle, and the +apprehension of further trouble, perhaps, led our captors to forego, for the +present, any search for <i>“those protections” which Frederick was +said to have written for his companions</i>; so we were not yet convicted of +the purpose to run away; and it was evident that there was some doubt, on the +part of all, whether we had been guilty of such a purpose. +</p> + +<p> +Just as we were all completely tied, and about ready to start toward St. +Michael’s, and thence to jail, Mrs. Betsey Freeland (mother to William, +who was very much attached—after the southern fashion—to Henry and +John, they having been reared from childhood in her house) came to the kitchen +door, with her hands full of biscuits—for we had not had time to take our +breakfast that morning—and divided them between Henry and John. This +done, the lady made the following parting address to me, looking and pointing +her bony finger at me. “You devil! you yellow devil! It was you that put +it into the heads of Henry and John to run away. But for <i>you</i>, you +<i>long legged yellow devil</i>, Henry and John would never have thought of +running away.” I gave the lady a look, which called forth a scream of +mingled wrath and terror, as she slammed the kitchen door, and went in, leaving +me, with the rest, in hands as harsh as her own broken voice. +</p> + +<p> +Could the kind reader have been quietly riding along the main road to or from +Easton, that morning, his eye would have met a painful sight. He would have +seen five young men, guilty of no crime, save that of preferring <i>liberty</i> +to a life of <i>bondage</i>, drawn along the public highway—firmly bound +together—tramping through dust and heat, bare-footed and +bare-headed—fastened to three strong horses, whose riders were armed to +the teeth, with pistols and daggers—on their way to prison, like felons, +and suffering every possible insult from the crowds of idle, vulgar people, who +clustered around, and heartlessly made their failure the occasion for all +manner of ribaldry and sport. As I looked upon this crowd of vile persons, and +saw myself and friends thus assailed and persecuted, I could not help seeing +the fulfillment of Sandy’s dream. I was in the hands of moral vultures, +and firmly held in their sharp talons, and was hurried away toward Easton, in a +south-easterly direction, amid the jeers of new birds of the same feather, +through every neighborhood we passed. It seemed to me (and this shows the good +understanding between the slaveholders and their allies) that every body we met +knew the cause of our arrest, and were out, awaiting our passing by, to feast +their vindictive eyes on our misery and to gloat over our ruin. Some said, <i>I +ought to be hanged</i>, and others, <i>I ought to be burnt</i>, others, I ought +to have the <i>“hide”</i> taken from my back; while no one gave us +a kind word or sympathizing look, except the poor slaves, who were lifting +their heavy hoes, and who cautiously glanced at us through the post-and-rail +fences, behind which they were at work. Our sufferings, that morning, can be +more easily imagined than described. Our hopes were all blasted, at a blow. The +cruel injustice, the victorious crime, and the helplessness of innocence, led +me to ask, in my ignorance and weakness “Where now is the God of justice +and mercy? And why have these wicked men the power thus to trample upon our +rights, and to insult our feelings?” And yet, in the next moment, came +the consoling thought, <i>“The day of oppressor will come at +last.”</i> Of one thing I could be glad—not one of my dear friends, +upon whom I had brought this great calamity, either by word or look, reproached +me for having led them into it. We were a band of brothers, and never dearer to +each other than now. The thought which gave us the most pain, was the probable +separation which would now take place, in case we were sold off to the far +south, as we were likely to be. While the constables were looking forward, +Henry and I, being fastened together, could occasionally exchange a word, +without being observed by the kidnappers who had us in charge. “What +shall I do with my pass?” said Henry. “Eat it with your +biscuit,” said I; “it won’t do to tear it up.” We were +now near St. Michael’s. The direction concerning the passes was passed +around, and executed. <i>“Own nothing!”</i> said I. <i>“Own +nothing!”</i> was passed around and enjoined, and assented to. Our +confidence in each other was unshaken; and we were quite resolved to succeed or +fail together—as much after the calamity which had befallen us, as +before. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching St. Michael’s, we underwent a sort of examination at my +master’s store, and it was evident to my mind, that Master Thomas +suspected the truthfulness of the evidence upon which they had acted in +arresting us; and that he only affected, to some extent, the positiveness with +which he asserted our guilt. There was nothing said by any of our company, +which could, in any manner, prejudice our cause; and there was hope, yet, that +we should be able to return to our homes—if for nothing else, at least to +find out the guilty man or woman who had betrayed us. +</p> + +<p> +To this end, we all denied that we had been guilty of intended flight. Master +Thomas said that the evidence he had of our intention to run away, was strong +enough to hang us, in a case of murder. “But,” said I, “the +cases are not equal. If murder were committed, some one must have committed +it—the thing is done! In our case, nothing has been done! We have not run +away. Where is the evidence against us? We were quietly at our work.” I +talked thus, with unusual freedom, to bring out the evidence against us, for we +all wanted, above all things, to know the guilty wretch who had betrayed us, +that we might have something tangible upon which to pour the execrations. From +something which dropped, in the course of the talk, it appeared that there was +but one witness against us—and that that witness could not be produced. +Master Thomas would not tell us <i>who</i> his informant was; but we suspected, +and suspected <i>one</i> person <i>only</i>. Several circumstances seemed to +point SANDY out, as our betrayer. His entire knowledge of our plans his +participation in them—his withdrawal from us—his dream, and his +simultaneous presentiment that we were betrayed—the taking us, and the +leaving him—were calculated to turn suspicion toward him; and yet, we +could not suspect him. We all loved him too well to think it <i>possible</i> +that he could have betrayed us. So we rolled the guilt on other shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +We were literally dragged, that morning, behind horses, a distance of fifteen +miles, and placed in the Easton jail. We were glad to reach the end of our +journey, for our pathway had been the scene of insult and mortification. Such +is the power of public opinion, that it is hard, even for the innocent, to feel +the happy consolations of innocence, when they fall under the maledictions of +this power. How could we regard ourselves as in the right, when all about us +denounced us as criminals, and had the power and the disposition to treat us as +such. +</p> + +<p> +In jail, we were placed under the care of Mr. Joseph Graham, the sheriff of the +county. Henry, and John, and myself, were placed in one room, and Henry Baily +and Charles Roberts, in another, by themselves. This separation was intended to +deprive us of the advantage of concert, and to prevent trouble in jail. +</p> + +<p> +Once shut up, a new set of tormentors came upon us. A swarm of imps, in human +shape the slave-traders, deputy slave-traders, and agents of +slave-traders—that gather in every country town of the state, watching +for chances to buy human flesh (as buzzards to eat carrion) flocked in upon us, +to ascertain if our masters had placed us in jail to be sold. Such a set of +debased and villainous creatures, I never saw before, and hope never to see +again. I felt myself surrounded as by a pack of <i>fiends</i>, fresh from +<i>perdition</i>. They laughed, leered, and grinned at us; saying, “Ah! +boys, we’ve got you, havn’t we? So you were about to make your +escape? Where were you going to?” After taunting us, and peering at us, +as long as they liked, they one by one subjected us to an examination, with a +view to ascertain our value; feeling our arms and legs, and shaking us by the +shoulders to see if we were sound and healthy; impudently asking us, “how +we would like to have them for masters?” To such questions, we were, very +much to their annoyance, quite dumb, disdaining to answer them. For one, I +detested the whisky-bloated gamblers in human flesh; and I believe I was as +much detested by them in turn. One fellow told me, “if he had me, he +would cut the devil out of me pretty quick.” +</p> + +<p> +These Negro buyers are very offensive to the genteel southern Christian public. +They are looked upon, in respectable Maryland society, as necessary, but +detestable characters. As a class, they are hardened ruffians, made such by +nature and by occupation. Their ears are made quite familiar with the agonizing +cry of outraged and woe-smitted humanity. Their eyes are forever open to human +misery. They walk amid desecrated affections, insulted virtue, and blasted +hopes. They have grown intimate with vice and blood; they gloat over the +wildest illustrations of their soul-damning and earth-polluting business, and +are moral pests. Yes; they are a legitimate fruit of slavery; and it is a +puzzle to make out a case of greater villainy for them, than for the +slaveholders, who make such a class <i>possible</i>. They are mere hucksters of +the surplus slave produce of Maryland and Virginia coarse, cruel, and +swaggering bullies, whose very breathing is of blasphemy and blood. +</p> + +<p> +Aside from these slave-buyers, who infested the prison, from time to time, our +quarters were much more comfortable than we had any right to expect they would +be. Our allowance of food was small and coarse, but our room was the best in +the jail—neat and spacious, and with nothing about it necessarily +reminding us of being in prison, but its heavy locks and bolts and the black, +iron lattice-work at the windows. We were prisoners of state, compared with +most slaves who are put into that Easton jail. But the place was not one of +contentment. Bolts, bars and grated windows are not acceptable to +freedom-loving people of any color. The suspense, too, was painful. Every step +on the stairway was listened to, in the hope that the comer would cast a ray of +light on our fate. We would have given the hair off our heads for half a dozen +words with one of the waiters in Sol. Lowe’s hotel. Such waiters were in +the way of hearing, at the table, the probable course of things. We could see +them flitting about in their white jackets in front of this hotel, but could +speak to none of them. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after the holidays were over, contrary to all our expectations, Messrs. +Hamilton and Freeland came up to Easton; not to make a bargain with the +“Georgia traders,” nor to send us up to Austin Woldfolk, as is +usual in the case of run-away slaves, but to release Charles, Henry Harris, +Henry Baily and John Harris, from prison, and this, too, without the infliction +of a single blow. I was now left entirely alone in prison. The innocent had +been taken, and the guilty left. My friends were separated from me, and +apparently forever. This circumstance caused me more pain than any other +incident connected with our capture and imprisonment. Thirty-nine lashes on my +naked and bleeding back, would have been joyfully borne, in preference to this +separation from these, the friends of my youth. And yet, I could not but feel +that I was the victim of something like justice. Why should these young men, +who were led into this scheme by me, suffer as much as the instigator? I felt +glad that they were leased from prison, and from the dread prospect of a life +(or death I should rather say) in the rice swamps. It is due to the noble +Henry, to say, that he seemed almost as reluctant to leave the prison with me +in it, as he was to be tied and dragged to prison. But he and the rest knew +that we should, in all the likelihoods of the case, be separated, in the event +of being sold; and since we were now completely in the hands of our owners, we +all concluded it would be best to go peaceably home. +</p> + +<p> +Not until this last separation, dear reader, had I touched those profounder +depths of desolation, which it is the lot of slaves often to reach. I was +solitary in the world, and alone within the walls of a stone prison, left to a +fate of life-long misery. I had hoped and expected much, for months before, but +my hopes and expectations were now withered and blasted. The ever dreaded slave +life in Georgia, Louisiana and Alabama—from which escape is next to +impossible now, in my loneliness, stared me in the face. The possibility of +ever becoming anything but an abject slave, a mere machine in the hands of an +owner, had now fled, and it seemed to me it had fled forever. A life of living +death, beset with the innumerable horrors of the cotton field, and the sugar +plantation, seemed to be my doom. The fiends, who rushed into the prison when +we were first put there, continued to visit me, and to ply me with questions +and with their tantalizing remarks. I was insulted, but helpless; keenly alive +to the demands of justice and liberty, but with no means of asserting them. To +talk to those imps about justice and mercy, would have been as absurd as to +reason with bears and tigers. Lead and steel are the only arguments that they +understand. +</p> + +<p> +After remaining in this life of misery and despair about a week, which, by the +way, seemed a month, Master Thomas, very much to my surprise, and greatly to my +relief, came to the prison, and took me out, for the purpose, as he said, of +sending me to Alabama, with a friend of his, who would emancipate me at the end +of eight years. I was glad enough to get out of prison; but I had no faith in +the story that this friend of Capt. Auld would emancipate me, at the end of the +time indicated. Besides, I never had heard of his having a friend in Alabama, +and I took the announcement, simply as an easy and comfortable method of +shipping me off to the far south. There was a little scandal, too, connected +with the idea of one Christian selling another to the Georgia traders, while it +was deemed every way proper for them to sell to others. I thought this friend +in Alabama was an invention, to meet this difficulty, for Master Thomas was +quite jealous of his Christian reputation, however unconcerned he might be +about his real Christian character. In these remarks, however, it is possible +that I do Master Thomas Auld injustice. He certainly did not exhaust his power +upon me, in the case, but acted, upon the whole, very generously, considering +the nature of my offense. He had the power and the provocation to send me, +without reserve, into the very everglades of Florida, beyond the remotest hope +of emancipation; and his refusal to exercise that power, must be set down to +his credit. +</p> + +<p> +After lingering about St. Michael’s a few days, and no friend from +Alabama making his appearance, to take me there, Master Thomas decided to send +me back again to Baltimore, to live with his brother Hugh, with whom he was now +at peace; possibly he became so by his profession of religion, at the +camp-meeting in the Bay Side. Master Thomas told me that he wished me to go to +Baltimore, and learn a trade; and that, if I behaved myself properly, he would +<i>emancipate me at twenty-five!</i> Thanks for this one beam of hope in the +future. The promise had but one fault; it seemed too good to be true. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"></a> +CHAPTER XX. <i>Apprenticeship Life</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +NOTHING LOST BY THE ATTEMPT TO RUN AWAY—COMRADES IN THEIR OLD +HOMES—REASONS FOR SENDING ME AWAY—RETURN TO +BALTIMORE—CONTRAST BETWEEN TOMMY AND THAT OF HIS COLORED +COMPANION—TRIALS IN GARDINER’S SHIP YARD—DESPERATE +FIGHT—ITS CAUSES—CONFLICT BETWEEN WHITE AND BLACK +LABOR—DESCRIPTION OF THE OUTRAGE—COLORED TESTIMONY +NOTHING—CONDUCT OF MASTER HUGH—SPIRIT OF SLAVERY IN +BALTIMORE—MY CONDITION IMPROVES—NEW +ASSOCIATIONS—SLAVEHOLDER’S RIGHT TO TAKE HIS WAGES—HOW TO +MAKE A CONTENTED SLAVE. +</p> + +<p> +Well! dear reader, I am not, as you may have already inferred, a loser by the +general upstir, described in the foregoing chapter. The little domestic +revolution, notwithstanding the sudden snub it got by the treachery of +somebody—I dare not say or think who—did not, after all, end so +disastrously, as when in the iron cage at Easton, I conceived it would. The +prospect, from that point, did look about as dark as any that ever cast its +gloom over the vision of the anxious, out-looking, human spirit. “All is +well that ends well.” My affectionate comrades, Henry and John Harris, +are still with Mr. William Freeland. Charles Roberts and Henry Baily are safe +at their homes. I have not, therefore, any thing to regret on their account. +Their masters have mercifully forgiven them, probably on the ground suggested +in the spirited little speech of Mrs. Freeland, made to me just before leaving +for the jail—namely: that they had been allured into the wicked scheme of +making their escape, by me; and that, but for me, they would never have dreamed +of a thing so shocking! My friends had nothing to regret, either; for while +they were watched more closely on account of what had happened, they were, +doubtless, treated more kindly than before, and got new assurances that they +would be legally emancipated, some day, provided their behavior should make +them deserving, from that time forward. Not a blow, as I learned, was struck +any one of them. As for Master William Freeland, good, unsuspecting soul, he +did not believe that we were intending to run away at all. Having +given—as he thought—no occasion to his boys to leave him, he could +not think it probable that they had entertained a design so grievous. This, +however, was not the view taken of the matter by “Mas’ +Billy,” as we used to call the soft spoken, but crafty and resolute Mr. +William Hamilton. He had no doubt that the crime had been meditated; and +regarding me as the instigator of it, he frankly told Master Thomas that he +must remove me from that neighborhood, or he would shoot me down. He would not +have one so dangerous as “Frederick” tampering with his slaves. +William Hamilton was not a man whose threat might be safely disregarded. I have +no doubt that he would have proved as good as his word, had the warning given +not been promptly taken. He was furious at the thought of such a piece of +high-handed <i>theft</i>, as we were about to perpetrate the stealing of our +own bodies and souls! The feasibility of the plan, too, could the first steps +have been taken, was marvelously plain. Besides, this was a <i>new</i> idea, +this use of the bay. Slaves escaping, until now, had taken to the woods; they +had never dreamed of profaning and abusing the waters of the noble Chesapeake, +by making them the highway from slavery to freedom. Here was a broad road of +destruction to slavery, which, before, had been looked upon as a wall of +security by slaveholders. But Master Billy could not get Mr. Freeland to see +matters precisely as he did; nor could he get Master Thomas so excited as he +was himself. The latter—I must say it to his credit—showed much +humane feeling in his part of the transaction, and atoned for much that had +been harsh, cruel and unreasonable in his former treatment of me and others. +His clemency was quite unusual and unlooked for. “Cousin Tom” told +me that while I was in jail, Master Thomas was very unhappy; and that the night +before his going up to release me, he had walked the floor nearly all night, +evincing great distress; that very tempting offers had been made to him, by the +Negro-traders, but he had rejected them all, saying that <i>money could not +tempt him to sell me to the far south</i>. All this I can easily believe, for +he seemed quite reluctant to send me away, at all. He told me that he only +consented to do so, because of the very strong prejudice against me in the +neighborhood, and that he feared for my safety if I remained there. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, after three years spent in the country, roughing it in the field, and +experiencing all sorts of hardships, I was again permitted to return to +Baltimore, the very place, of all others, short of a free state, where I most +desired to live. The three years spent in the country, had made some difference +in me, and in the household of Master Hugh. “Little Tommy” was no +longer <i>little</i> Tommy; and I was not the slender lad who had left for the +Eastern Shore just three years before. The loving relations between me and +Mas’ Tommy were broken up. He was no longer dependent on me for +protection, but felt himself a <i>man</i>, with other and more suitable +associates. In childhood, he scarcely considered me inferior to himself +certainly, as good as any other boy with whom he played; but the time had come +when his <i>friend</i> must become his <i>slave</i>. So we were cold, and we +parted. It was a sad thing to me, that, loving each other as we had done, we +must now take different roads. To him, a thousand avenues were open. Education +had made him acquainted with all the treasures of the world, and liberty had +flung open the gates thereunto; but I, who had attended him seven years, and +had watched over him with the care of a big brother, fighting his battles in +the street, and shielding him from harm, to an extent which had induced his +mother to say, “Oh! Tommy is always safe, when he is with Freddy,” +must be confined to a single condition. He could grow, and become a MAN; I +could grow, though I could <i>not</i> become a man, but must remain, all my +life, a minor—a mere boy. Thomas Auld, Junior, obtained a situation on +board the brig “Tweed,” and went to sea. I know not what has become +of him; he certainly has my good wishes for his welfare and prosperity. There +were few persons to whom I was more sincerely attached than to him, and there +are few in the world I would be more pleased to meet. +</p> + +<p> +Very soon after I went to Baltimore to live, Master Hugh succeeded in getting +me hired to Mr. William Gardiner, an extensive ship builder on Fell’s +Point. I was placed here to learn to calk, a trade of which I already had some +knowledge, gained while in Mr. Hugh Auld’s ship-yard, when he was a +master builder. Gardiner’s, however, proved a very unfavorable place for +the accomplishment of that object. Mr. Gardiner was, that season, engaged in +building two large man-of-war vessels, professedly for the Mexican government. +These vessels were to be launched in the month of July, of that year, and, in +failure thereof, Mr. G. would forfeit a very considerable sum of money. So, +when I entered the ship-yard, all was hurry and driving. There were in the yard +about one hundred men; of these about seventy or eighty were regular +carpenters—privileged men. Speaking of my condition here I wrote, years +ago—and I have now no reason to vary the picture as follows: +</p> + +<p> +There was no time to learn any thing. Every man had to do that which he knew +how to do. In entering the ship-yard, my orders from Mr. Gardiner were, to do +whatever the carpenters commanded me to do. This was placing me at the beck and +call of about seventy-five men. I was to regard all these as masters. Their +word was to be my law. My situation was a most trying one. At times I needed a +dozen pair of hands. I was called a dozen ways in the space of a single minute. +Three or four voices would strike my ear at the same moment. It +was—“Fred., come help me to cant this timber here.” +“Fred., come carry this timber yonder.”—“Fred., bring +that roller here.”—“Fred., go get a fresh can of +water.”—“Fred., come help saw off the end of this +timber.”—“Fred., go quick and get the crow +bar.”—“Fred., hold on the end of this +fall.”—“Fred., go to the blacksmith’s shop, and get a +new punch.”— +</p> + +<p> +“Hurra, Fred.! run and bring me a cold chisel.”—“I say, +Fred., bear a hand, and get up a fire as quick as lightning under that +steam-box.”—“Halloo, nigger! come, turn this +grindstone.”—“Come, come! move, move! and <i>bowse</i> this +timber forward.”—“I say, darkey, blast your eyes, why +don’t you heat up some pitch?”—“Halloo! halloo! +halloo!” (Three voices at the same time.) “Come here!—Go +there!—Hold on where you are! D—n you, if you move, I’ll +knock your brains out!” +</p> + +<p> +Such, dear reader, is a glance at the school which was mine, during, the first +eight months of my stay at Baltimore. At the end of the eight months, Master +Hugh refused longer to allow me to remain with Mr. Gardiner. The circumstance +which led to his taking me away, was a brutal outrage, committed upon me by the +white apprentices of the ship-yard. The fight was a desperate one, and I came +out of it most shockingly mangled. I was cut and bruised in sundry places, and +my left eye was nearly knocked out of its socket. The facts, leading to this +barbarous outrage upon me, illustrate a phase of slavery destined to become an +important element in the overthrow of the slave system, and I may, therefore +state them with some minuteness. That phase is this: <i>the conflict of slavery +with the interests of the white mechanics and laborers of the south</i>. In the +country, this conflict is not so apparent; but, in cities, such as Baltimore, +Richmond, New Orleans, Mobile, &c., it is seen pretty clearly. The +slaveholders, with a craftiness peculiar to themselves, by encouraging the +enmity of the poor, laboring white man against the blacks, succeeds in making +the said white man almost as much a slave as the black slave himself. The +difference between the white slave, and the black slave, is this: the latter +belongs to <i>one</i> slaveholder, and the former belongs to <i>all</i> the +slaveholders, collectively. The white slave has taken from him, by indirection, +what the black slave has taken from him, directly, and without ceremony. Both +are plundered, and by the same plunderers. The slave is robbed, by his master, +of all his earnings, above what is required for his bare physical necessities; +and the white man is robbed by the slave system, of the just results of his +labor, because he is flung into competition with a class of laborers who work +without wages. The competition, and its injurious consequences, will, one day, +array the nonslaveholding white people of the slave states, against the slave +system, and make them the most effective workers against the great evil. At +present, the slaveholders blind them to this competition, by keeping alive +their prejudice against the slaves, <i>as men</i>—not against them <i>as +slaves</i>. They appeal to their pride, often denouncing emancipation, as +tending to place the white man, on an equality with Negroes, and, by this +means, they succeed in drawing off the minds of the poor whites from the real +fact, that, by the rich slave-master, they are already regarded as but a single +remove from equality with the slave. The impression is cunningly made, that +slavery is the only power that can prevent the laboring white man from falling +to the level of the slave’s poverty and degradation. To make this enmity +deep and broad, between the slave and the poor white man, the latter is allowed +to abuse and whip the former, without hinderance. But—as I have +suggested—this state of facts prevails <i>mostly</i> in the country. In +the city of Baltimore, there are not unfrequent murmurs, that educating the +slaves to be mechanics may, in the end, give slavemasters power to dispense +with the services of the poor white man altogether. But, with characteristic +dread of offending the slaveholders, these poor, white mechanics in Mr. +Gardiner’s ship-yard—instead of applying the natural, honest remedy +for the apprehended evil, and objecting at once to work there by the side of +slaves—made a cowardly attack upon the free colored mechanics, saying +<i>they</i> were eating the bread which should be eaten by American freemen, +and swearing that they would not work with them. The feeling was, +<i>really</i>, against having their labor brought into competition with that of +the colored people at all; but it was too much to strike directly at the +interest of the slaveholders; and, therefore proving their servility and +cowardice they dealt their blows on the poor, colored freeman, and aimed to +prevent <i>him</i> from serving himself, in the evening of life, with the trade +with which he had served his master, during the more vigorous portion of his +days. Had they succeeded in driving the black freemen out of the ship-yard, +they would have determined also upon the removal of the black slaves. The +feeling was very bitter toward all colored people in Baltimore, about this time +(1836), and they—free and slave suffered all manner of insult and wrong. +</p> + +<p> +Until a very little before I went there, white and black ship carpenters worked +side by side, in the ship yards of Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Duncan, Mr. Walter Price, +and Mr. Robb. Nobody seemed to see any impropriety in it. To outward seeming, +all hands were well satisfied. Some of the blacks were first rate workmen, and +were given jobs requiring highest skill. All at once, however, the white +carpenters knocked off, and swore that they would no longer work on the same +stage with free Negroes. Taking advantage of the heavy contract resting upon +Mr. Gardiner, to have the war vessels for Mexico ready to launch in July, and +of the difficulty of getting other hands at that season of the year, they swore +they would not strike another blow for him, unless he would discharge his free +colored workmen. +</p> + +<p> +Now, although this movement did not extend to me, <i>in form</i>, it did reach +me, <i>in fact</i>. The spirit which it awakened was one of malice and +bitterness, toward colored people <i>generally</i>, and I suffered with the +rest, and suffered severely. My fellow apprentices very soon began to feel it +to be degrading to work with me. They began to put on high looks, and to talk +contemptuously and maliciously of <i>“the Niggers;”</i> saying, +that “they would take the country,” that “they ought to be +killed.” Encouraged by the cowardly workmen, who, knowing me to be a +slave, made no issue with Mr. Gardiner about my being there, these young men +did their utmost to make it impossible for me to stay. They seldom called me to +do any thing, without coupling the call with a curse, and Edward North, the +biggest in every thing, rascality included, ventured to strike me, whereupon I +picked him up, and threw him into the dock. Whenever any of them struck me, I +struck back again, regardless of consequences. I could manage any of them +<i>singly</i>, and, while I could keep them from combining, I succeeded very +well. In the conflict which ended my stay at Mr. Gardiner’s, I was beset +by four of them at once—Ned North, Ned Hays, Bill Stewart, and Tom +Humphreys. Two of them were as large as myself, and they came near killing me, +in broad day light. The attack was made suddenly, and simultaneously. One came +in front, armed with a brick; there was one at each side, and one behind, and +they closed up around me. I was struck on all sides; and, while I was attending +to those in front, I received a blow on my head, from behind, dealt with a +heavy hand-spike. I was completely stunned by the blow, and fell, heavily, on +the ground, among the timbers. Taking advantage of my fall, they rushed upon +me, and began to pound me with their fists. I let them lay on, for a while, +after I came to myself, with a view of gaining strength. They did me little +damage, so far; but, finally, getting tired of that sport, I gave a sudden +surge, and, despite their weight, I rose to my hands and knees. Just as I did +this, one of their number (I know not which) planted a blow with his boot in my +left eye, which, for a time, seemed to have burst my eyeball. When they saw my +eye completely closed, my face covered with blood, and I staggering under the +stunning blows they had given me, they left me. As soon as I gathered +sufficient strength, I picked up the hand-spike, and, madly enough, attempted +to pursue them; but here the carpenters interfered, and compelled me to give up +my frenzied pursuit. It was impossible to stand against so many. +</p> + +<p> +Dear reader, you can hardly believe the statement, but it is true, and, +therefore, I write it down: not fewer than fifty white men stood by, and saw +this brutal and shameless outrage committed, and not a man of them all +interposed a single word of mercy. There were four against one, and that +one’s face was beaten and battered most horribly, and no one said, +“that is enough;” but some cried out, “Kill him—kill +him—kill the d—d nigger! knock his brains out—he struck a +white person.” I mention this inhuman outcry, to show the character of +the men, and the spirit of the times, at Gardiner’s ship yard, and, +indeed, in Baltimore generally, in 1836. As I look back to this period, I am +almost amazed that I was not murdered outright, in that ship yard, so murderous +was the spirit which prevailed there. On two occasions, while there, I came +near losing my life. I was driving bolts in the hold, through the keelson, with +Hays. In its course, the bolt bent. Hays cursed me, and said that it was my +blow which bent the bolt. I denied this, and charged it upon him. In a fit of +rage he seized an adze, and darted toward me. I met him with a maul, and +parried his blow, or I should have then lost my life. A son of old Tom Lanman +(the latter’s double murder I have elsewhere charged upon him), in the +spirit of his miserable father, made an assault upon me, but the blow with his +maul missed me. After the united assault of North, Stewart, Hays and Humphreys, +finding that the carpenters were as bitter toward me as the apprentices, and +that the latter were probably set on by the former, I found my only chances for +life was in flight. I succeeded in getting away, without an additional blow. To +strike a white man, was death, by Lynch law, in Gardiner’s ship yard; nor +was there much of any other law toward colored people, at that time, in any +other part of Maryland. The whole sentiment of Baltimore was murderous. +</p> + +<p> +After making my escape from the ship yard, I went straight home, and related +the story of the outrage to Master Hugh Auld; and it is due to him to say, that +his conduct—though he was not a religious man—was every way more +humane than that of his brother, Thomas, when I went to the latter in a +somewhat similar plight, from the hands of <i>“Brother Edward +Covey.”</i> He listened attentively to my narration of the circumstances +leading to the ruffianly outrage, and gave many proofs of his strong +indignation at what was done. Hugh was a rough, but manly-hearted fellow, and, +at this time, his best nature showed itself. +</p> + +<p> +The heart of my once almost over-kind mistress, Sophia, was again melted in +pity toward me. My puffed-out eye, and my scarred and blood-covered face, moved +the dear lady to tears. She kindly drew a chair by me, and with friendly, +consoling words, she took water, and washed the blood from my face. No +mother’s hand could have been more tender than hers. She bound up my +head, and covered my wounded eye with a lean piece of fresh beef. It was almost +compensation for the murderous assault, and my suffering, that it furnished and +occasion for the manifestation, once more, of the orignally(sic) characteristic +kindness of my mistress. Her affectionate heart was not yet dead, though much +hardened by time and by circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +As for Master Hugh’s part, as I have said, he was furious about it; and +he gave expression to his fury in the usual forms of speech in that locality. +He poured curses on the heads of the whole ship yard company, and swore that he +would have satisfaction for the outrage. His indignation was really strong and +healthy; but, unfortunately, it resulted from the thought that his rights of +property, in my person, had not been respected, more than from any sense of the +outrage committed on me <i>as a man</i>. I inferred as much as this, from the +fact that he could, himself, beat and mangle when it suited him to do so. Bent +on having satisfaction, as he said, just as soon as I got a little the better +of my bruises, Master Hugh took me to Esquire Watson’s office, on Bond +street, Fell’s Point, with a view to procuring the arrest of those who +had assaulted me. He related the outrage to the magistrate, as I had related it +to him, and seemed to expect that a warrant would, at once, be issued for the +arrest of the lawless ruffians. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Watson heard it all, and instead of drawing up his warrant, he +inquired.— +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Auld, who saw this assault of which you speak?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was done, sir, in the presence of a ship yard full of hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Watson, “I am sorry, but I cannot move in this +matter except upon the oath of white witnesses.” +</p> + +<p> +“But here’s the boy; look at his head and face,” said the +excited Master Hugh; <i>“they</i> show <i>what</i> has been done.” +</p> + +<p> +But Watson insisted that he was not authorized to do anything, unless +<i>white</i> witnesses of the transaction would come forward, and testify to +what had taken place. He could issue no warrant on my word, against white +persons; and, if I had been killed in the presence of a <i>thousand blacks</i>, +their testimony, combined would have been insufficient to arrest a single +murderer. Master Hugh, for once, was compelled to say, that this state of +things was <i>too bad;</i> and he left the office of the magistrate, disgusted. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, it was impossible to get any white man to testify against my +assailants. The carpenters saw what was done; but the actors were but the +agents of their malice, and only what the carpenters sanctioned. They had +cried, with one accord, <i>“Kill the nigger!” “Kill the +nigger!”</i> Even those who may have pitied me, if any such were among +them, lacked the moral courage to come and volunteer their evidence. The +slightest manifestation of sympathy or justice toward a person of color, was +denounced as abolitionism; and the name of abolitionist, subjected its bearer +to frightful liabilities. “D—n <i>abolitionists,”</i> and +<i>“Kill the niggers,”</i> were the watch-words of the foul-mouthed +ruffians of those days. Nothing was done, and probably there would not have +been any thing done, had I been killed in the affray. The laws and the morals +of the Christian city of Baltimore, afforded no protection to the sable +denizens of that city. +</p> + +<p> +Master Hugh, on finding he could get no redress for the cruel wrong, withdrew +me from the employment of Mr. Gardiner, and took me into his own family, Mrs. +Auld kindly taking care of me, and dressing my wounds, until they were healed, +and I was ready to go again to work. +</p> + +<p> +While I was on the Eastern Shore, Master Hugh had met with reverses, which +overthrew his business; and he had given up ship building in his own yard, on +the City Block, and was now acting as foreman of Mr. Walter Price. The best he +could now do for me, was to take me into Mr. Price’s yard, and afford me +the facilities there, for completing the trade which I had began to learn at +Gardiner’s. Here I rapidly became expert in the use of my calking tools; +and, in the course of a single year, I was able to command the highest wages +paid to journeymen calkers in Baltimore. +</p> + +<p> +The reader will observe that I was now of some pecuniary value to my master. +During the busy season, I was bringing six and seven dollars per week. I have, +sometimes, brought him as much as nine dollars a week, for the wages were a +dollar and a half per day. +</p> + +<p> +After learning to calk, I sought my own employment, made my own contracts, and +collected my own earnings; giving Master Hugh no trouble in any part of the +transactions to which I was a party. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, were better days for the Eastern Shore <i>slave</i>. I was now free +from the vexatious assalts(sic) of the apprentices at Mr. Gardiner’s; and +free from the perils of plantation life, and once more in a favorable condition +to increase my little stock of education, which had been at a dead stand since +my removal from Baltimore. I had, on the Eastern Shore, been only a teacher, +when in company with other slaves, but now there were colored persons who could +instruct me. Many of the young calkers could read, write and cipher. Some of +them had high notions about mental improvement; and the free ones, on +Fell’s Point, organized what they called the <i>“East Baltimore +Mental Improvement Society.”</i> To this society, notwithstanding it was +intended that only free persons should attach themselves, I was admitted, and +was, several times, assigned a prominent part in its debates. I owe much to the +society of these young men. +</p> + +<p> +The reader already knows enough of the <i>ill</i> effects of good treatment on +a slave, to anticipate what was now the case in my improved condition. It was +not long before I began to show signs of disquiet with slavery, and to look +around for means to get out of that condition by the shortest route. I was +living among <i>free men;</i> and was, in all respects, equal to them by nature +and by attainments. <i>Why should I be a slave?</i> There was <i>no</i> reason +why I should be the thrall of any man. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, I was now getting—as I have said—a dollar and fifty cents +per day. I contracted for it, worked for it, earned it, collected it; it was +paid to me, and it was <i>rightfully</i> my own; and yet, upon every returning +Saturday night, this money—my own hard earnings, every cent of +it—was demanded of me, and taken from me by Master Hugh. He did not earn +it; he had no hand in earning it; why, then, should he have it? I owed him +nothing. He had given me no schooling, and I had received from him only my food +and raiment; and for these, my services were supposed to pay, from the first. +The right to take my earnings, was the right of the robber. He had the power to +compel me to give him the fruits of my labor, and this power was his only right +in the case. I became more and more dissatisfied with this state of things; +and, in so becoming, I only gave proof of the same human nature which every +reader of this chapter in my life—slaveholder, or nonslaveholder—is +conscious of possessing. +</p> + +<p> +To make a contented slave, you must make a thoughtless one. It is necessary to +darken his moral and mental vision, and, as far as possible, to annihilate his +power of reason. He must be able to detect no inconsistencies in slavery. The +man that takes his earnings, must be able to convince him that he has a perfect +right to do so. It must not depend upon mere force; the slave must know no +Higher Law than his master’s will. The whole relationship must not only +demonstrate, to his mind, its necessity, but its absolute rightfulness. If +there be one crevice through which a single drop can fall, it will certainly +rust off the slave’s chain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"></a> +CHAPTER XXI. <i>My Escape from Slavery</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +CLOSING INCIDENTS OF “MY LIFE AS A SLAVE”—REASONS WHY FULL +PARTICULARS OF THE MANNER OF MY ESCAPE WILL NOT BE GIVEN—CRAFTINESS AND +MALICE OF SLAVEHOLDERS—SUSPICION OF AIDING A SLAVE’S ESCAPE ABOUT +AS DANGEROUS AS POSITIVE EVIDENCE—WANT OF WISDOM SHOWN IN PUBLISHING +DETAILS OF THE ESCAPE OF THE FUGITIVES—PUBLISHED ACCOUNTS REACH THE +MASTERS, NOT THE SLAVES—SLAVEHOLDERS STIMULATED TO GREATER +WATCHFULNESS—MY CONDITION—DISCONTENT—SUSPICIONS IMPLIED BY +MASTER HUGH’S MANNER, WHEN RECEIVING MY WAGES—HIS OCCASIONAL +GENEROSITY!—DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY OF ESCAPE—EVERY AVENUE +GUARDED—PLAN TO OBTAIN MONEY—I AM ALLOWED TO HIRE MY TIME—A +GLEAM OF HOPE—ATTENDS CAMP-MEETING, WITHOUT PERMISSION—ANGER OF +MASTER HUGH THEREAT—THE RESULT—MY PLANS OF ESCAPE ACCELERATED +THERBY—THE DAY FOR MY DEPARTURE FIXED—HARASSED BY DOUBTS AND +FEARS—PAINFUL THOUGHTS OF SEPARATION FROM FRIENDS—THE ATTEMPT +MADE—ITS SUCCESS. +</p> + +<p> +I will now make the kind reader acquainted with the closing incidents of my +“Life as a Slave,” having already trenched upon the limit allotted +to my “Life as a Freeman.” Before, however, proceeding with this +narration, it is, perhaps, proper that I should frankly state, in advance, my +intention to withhold a part of the(sic) connected with my escape from slavery. +There are reasons for this suppression, which I trust the reader will deem +altogether valid. It may be easily conceived, that a full and complete +statement of all facts pertaining to the flight of a bondman, might implicate +and embarrass some who may have, wittingly or unwittingly, assisted him; and no +one can wish me to involve any man or woman who has befriended me, even in the +liability of embarrassment or trouble. +</p> + +<p> +Keen is the scent of the slaveholder; like the fangs of the rattlesnake, his +malice retains its poison long; and, although it is now nearly seventeen years +since I made my escape, it is well to be careful, in dealing with the +circumstances relating to it. Were I to give but a shadowy outline of the +process adopted, with characteristic aptitude, the crafty and malicious among +the slaveholders might, possibly, hit upon the track I pursued, and involve +some one in suspicion which, in a slave state, is about as bad as positive +evidence. The colored man, there, must not only shun evil, but shun the very +<i>appearance</i> of evil, or be condemned as a criminal. A slaveholding +community has a peculiar taste for ferreting out offenses against the slave +system, justice there being more sensitive in its regard for the peculiar +rights of this system, than for any other interest or institution. By stringing +together a train of events and circumstances, even if I were not very explicit, +the means of escape might be ascertained, and, possibly, those means be +rendered, thereafter, no longer available to the liberty-seeking children of +bondage I have left behind me. No antislavery man can wish me to do anything +favoring such results, and no slaveholding reader has any right to expect the +impartment of such information. +</p> + +<p> +While, therefore, it would afford me pleasure, and perhaps would materially add +to the interest of my story, were I at liberty to gratify a curiosity which I +know to exist in the minds of many, as to the manner of my escape, I must +deprive myself of this pleasure, and the curious of the gratification, which +such a statement of facts would afford. I would allow myself to suffer under +the greatest imputations that evil minded men might suggest, rather than +exculpate myself by explanation, and thereby run the hazards of closing the +slightest avenue by which a brother in suffering might clear himself of the +chains and fetters of slavery. +</p> + +<p> +The practice of publishing every new invention by which a slave is known to +have escaped from slavery, has neither wisdom nor necessity to sustain it. Had +not Henry Box Brown and his friends attracted slaveholding attention to the +manner of his escape, we might have had a thousand <i>Box Browns</i> per annum. +The singularly original plan adopted by William and Ellen Crafts, perished with +the first using, because every slaveholder in the land was apprised of it. The +<i>salt water slave</i> who hung in the guards of a steamer, being washed three +days and three nights—like another Jonah—by the waves of the sea, +has, by the publicity given to the circumstance, set a spy on the guards of +every steamer departing from southern ports. +</p> + +<p> +I have never approved of the very public manner, in which some of our western +friends have conducted what <i>they</i> call the <i>“Under-ground +Railroad,”</i> but which, I think, by their open declarations, has been +made, most emphatically, the <i>“Upper</i>-ground Railroad.” Its +stations are far better known to the slaveholders than to the slaves. I honor +those good men and women for their noble daring, in willingly subjecting +themselves to persecution, by openly avowing their participation in the escape +of slaves; nevertheless, the good resulting from such avowals, is of a very +questionable character. It may kindle an enthusiasm, very pleasant to inhale; +but that is of no practical benefit to themselves, nor to the slaves escaping. +Nothing is more evident, than that such disclosures are a positive evil to the +slaves remaining, and seeking to escape. In publishing such accounts, the +anti-slavery man addresses the slaveholder, <i>not the slave;</i> he stimulates +the former to greater watchfulness, and adds to his facilities for capturing +his slave. We owe something to the slaves, south of Mason and Dixon’s +line, as well as to those north of it; and, in discharging the duty of aiding +the latter, on their way to freedom, we should be careful to do nothing which +would be likely to hinder the former, in making their escape from slavery. Such +is my detestation of slavery, that I would keep the merciless slaveholder +profoundly ignorant of the means of flight adopted by the slave. He should be +left to imagine himself surrounded by myriads of invisible tormentors, ever +ready to snatch, from his infernal grasp, his trembling prey. In pursuing his +victim, let him be left to feel his way in the dark; let shades of darkness, +commensurate with his crime, shut every ray of light from his pathway; and let +him be made to feel, that, at every step he takes, with the hellish purpose of +reducing a brother man to slavery, he is running the frightful risk of having +his hot brains dashed out by an invisible hand. +</p> + +<p> +But, enough of this. I will now proceed to the statement of those facts, +connected with my escape, for which I am alone responsible, and for which no +one can be made to suffer but myself. +</p> + +<p> +My condition in the year (1838) of my escape, was, comparatively, a free and +easy one, so far, at least, as the wants of the physical man were concerned; +but the reader will bear in mind, that my troubles from the beginning, have +been less physical than mental, and he will thus be prepared to find, after +what is narrated in the previous chapters, that slave life was adding nothing +to its charms for me, as I grew older, and became better acquainted with it. +The practice, from week to week, of openly robbing me of all my earnings, kept +the nature and character of slavery constantly before me. I could be robbed by +<i>indirection</i>, but this was <i>too</i> open and barefaced to be endured. I +could see no reason why I should, at the end of each week, pour the reward of +my honest toil into the purse of any man. The thought itself vexed me, and the +manner in which Master Hugh received my wages, vexed me more than the original +wrong. Carefully counting the money and rolling it out, dollar by dollar, he +would look me in the face, as if he would search my heart as well as my pocket, +and reproachfully ask me, “<i>Is that all</i>?”—implying that +I had, perhaps, kept back part of my wages; or, if not so, the demand was made, +possibly, to make me feel, that, after all, I was an “unprofitable +servant.” Draining me of the last cent of my hard earnings, he would, +however, occasionally—when I brought home an extra large sum—dole +out to me a sixpence or a shilling, with a view, perhaps, of kindling up my +gratitude; but this practice had the opposite effect—it was an admission +of <i>my right to the whole sum</i>. The fact, that he gave me any part of my +wages, was proof that he suspected that I had a right <i>to the whole of +them</i>. I always felt uncomfortable, after having received anything in this +way, for I feared that the giving me a few cents, might, possibly, ease his +conscience, and make him feel himself a pretty honorable robber, after all! +</p> + +<p> +Held to a strict account, and kept under a close watch—the old suspicion +of my running away not having been entirely removed—escape from slavery, +even in Baltimore, was very difficult. The railroad from Baltimore to +Philadelphia was under regulations so stringent, that even <i>free</i> colored +travelers were almost excluded. They must have <i>free</i> papers; they must be +measured and carefully examined, before they were allowed to enter the cars; +they only went in the day time, even when so examined. The steamboats were +under regulations equally stringent. All the great turnpikes, leading +northward, were beset with kidnappers, a class of men who watched the +newspapers for advertisements for runaway slaves, making their living by the +accursed reward of slave hunting. +</p> + +<p> +My discontent grew upon me, and I was on the look-out for means of escape. With +money, I could easily have managed the matter, and, therefore, I hit upon the +plan of soliciting the privilege of hiring my time. It is quite common, in +Baltimore, to allow slaves this privilege, and it is the practice, also, in New +Orleans. A slave who is considered trustworthy, can, by paying his master a +definite sum regularly, at the end of each week, dispose of his time as he +likes. It so happened that I was not in very good odor, and I was far from +being a trustworthy slave. Nevertheless, I watched my opportunity when Master +Thomas came to Baltimore (for I was still his property, Hugh only acted as his +agent) in the spring of 1838, to purchase his spring supply of goods, and +applied to him, directly, for the much-coveted privilege of hiring my time. +This request Master Thomas unhesitatingly refused to grant; and he charged me, +with some sternness, with inventing this stratagem to make my escape. He told +me, “I could go <i>nowhere</i> but he could catch me; and, in the event +of my running away, I might be assured he should spare no pains in his efforts +to recapture me.” He recounted, with a good deal of eloquence, the many +kind offices he had done me, and exhorted me to be contented and obedient. +“Lay out no plans for the future,” said he. “If you behave +yourself properly, I will take care of you.” Now, kind and considerate as +this offer was, it failed to soothe me into repose. In spite of Master Thomas, +and, I may say, in spite of myself, also, I continued to think, and worse +still, to think almost exclusively about the injustice and wickedness of +slavery. No effort of mine or of his could silence this trouble-giving thought, +or change my purpose to run away. +</p> + +<p> +About two months after applying to Master Thomas for the privilege of hiring my +time, I applied to Master Hugh for the same liberty, supposing him to be +unacquainted with the fact that I had made a similar application to Master +Thomas, and had been refused. My boldness in making this request, fairly +astounded him at the first. He gazed at me in amazement. But I had many good +reasons for pressing the matter; and, after listening to them awhile, he did +not absolutely refuse, but told me he would think of it. Here, then, was a +gleam of hope. Once master of my own time, I felt sure that I could make, over +and above my obligation to him, a dollar or two every week. Some slaves have +made enough, in this way, to purchase their freedom. It is a sharp spur to +industry; and some of the most enterprising colored men in Baltimore hire +themselves in this way. After mature reflection—as I must suppose it was +Master Hugh granted me the privilege in question, on the following terms: I was +to be allowed all my time; to make all bargains for work; to find my own +employment, and to collect my own wages; and, in return for this liberty, I was +required, or obliged, to pay him three dollars at the end of each week, and to +board and clothe myself, and buy my own calking tools. A failure in any of +these particulars would put an end to my privilege. This was a hard bargain. +The wear and tear of clothing, the losing and breaking of tools, and the +expense of board, made it necessary for me to earn at least six dollars per +week, to keep even with the world. All who are acquainted with calking, know +how uncertain and irregular that employment is. It can be done to advantage +only in dry weather, for it is useless to put wet oakum into a seam. Rain or +shine, however, work or no work, at the end of each week the money must be +forthcoming. +</p> + +<p> +Master Hugh seemed to be very much pleased, for a time, with this arrangement; +and well he might be, for it was decidedly in his favor. It relieved him of all +anxiety concerning me. His money was sure. He had armed my love of liberty with +a lash and a driver, far more efficient than any I had before known; and, while +he derived all the benefits of slaveholding by the arrangement, without its +evils, I endured all the evils of being a slave, and yet suffered all the care +and anxiety of a responsible freeman. “Nevertheless,” thought I, +“it is a valuable privilege another step in my career toward +freedom.” It was something even to be permitted to stagger under the +disadvantages of liberty, and I was determined to hold on to the newly gained +footing, by all proper industry. I was ready to work by night as well as by +day; and being in the enjoyment of excellent health, I was able not only to +meet my current expenses, but also to lay by a small sum at the end of each +week. All went on thus, from the month of May till August; then—for +reasons which will become apparent as I proceed—my much valued liberty +was wrested from me. +</p> + +<p> +During the week previous to this (to me) calamitous event, I had made +arrangements with a few young friends, to accompany them, on Saturday night, to +a camp-meeting, held about twelve miles from Baltimore. On the evening of our +intended start for the camp-ground, something occurred in the ship yard where I +was at work, which detained me unusually late, and compelled me either to +disappoint my young friends, or to neglect carrying my weekly dues to Master +Hugh. Knowing that I had the money, and could hand it to him on another day, I +decided to go to camp-meeting, and to pay him the three dollars, for the past +week, on my return. Once on the camp-ground, I was induced to remain one day +longer than I had intended, when I left home. But, as soon as I returned, I +went straight to his house on Fell street, to hand him his (my) money. +Unhappily, the fatal mistake had been committed. I found him exceedingly angry. +He exhibited all the signs of apprehension and wrath, which a slaveholder may +be surmised to exhibit on the supposed escape of a favorite slave. “You +rascal! I have a great mind to give you a severe whipping. How dare you go out +of the city without first asking and obtaining my permission?” +“Sir,” said I, “I hired my time and paid you the price you +asked for it. I did not know that it was any part of the bargain that I should +ask you when or where I should go.” +</p> + +<p> +“You did not know, you rascal! You are bound to show yourself here every +Saturday night.” After reflecting, a few moments, he became somewhat +cooled down; but, evidently greatly troubled, he said, “Now, you +scoundrel! you have done for yourself; you shall hire your time no longer. The +next thing I shall hear of, will be your running away. Bring home your tools +and your clothes, at once. I’ll teach you how to go off in this +way.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus ended my partial freedom. I could hire my time no longer; and I obeyed my +master’s orders at once. The little taste of liberty which I had +had—although as the reader will have seen, it was far from being +unalloyed—by no means enhanced my contentment with slavery. Punished thus +by Master Hugh, it was now my turn to punish him. “Since,” thought +I, “you <i>will</i> make a slave of me, I will await your orders in all +things;” and, instead of going to look for work on Monday morning, as I +had formerly done, I remained at home during the entire week, without the +performance of a single stroke of work. Saturday night came, and he called upon +me, as usual, for my wages. I, of course, told him I had done no work, and had +no wages. Here we were at the point of coming to blows. His wrath had been +accumulating during the whole week; for he evidently saw that I was making no +effort to get work, but was most aggravatingly awaiting his orders, in all +things. As I look back to this behavior of mine, I scarcely know what possessed +me, thus to trifle with those who had such unlimited power to bless or to blast +me. Master Hugh raved and swore his determination to <i>“get hold of +me;”</i> but, wisely for <i>him</i>, and happily for <i>me</i>, his wrath +only employed those very harmless, impalpable missiles, which roll from a +limber tongue. In my desperation, I had fully made up my mind to measure +strength with Master Hugh, in case he should undertake to execute his threats. +I am glad there was no necessity for this; for resistance to him could not have +ended so happily for me, as it did in the case of Covey. He was not a man to be +safely resisted by a slave; and I freely own, that in my conduct toward him, in +this instance, there was more folly than wisdom. Master Hugh closed his +reproofs, by telling me that, hereafter, I need give myself no uneasiness about +getting work; that he “would, himself, see to getting work for me, and +enough of it, at that.” This threat I confess had some terror in it; and, +on thinking the matter over, during the Sunday, I resolved, not only to save +him the trouble of getting me work, but that, upon the third day of September, +I would attempt to make my escape from slavery. The refusal to allow me to hire +my time, therefore, hastened the period of flight. I had three weeks, now, in +which to prepare for my journey. +</p> + +<p> +Once resolved, I felt a certain degree of repose, and on Monday, instead of +waiting for Master Hugh to seek employment for me, I was up by break of day, +and off to the ship yard of Mr. Butler, on the City Block, near the +draw-bridge. I was a favorite with Mr. B., and, young as I was, I had served as +his foreman on the float stage, at calking. Of course, I easily obtained work, +and, at the end of the week—which by the way was exceedingly fine I +brought Master Hugh nearly nine dollars. The effect of this mark of returning +good sense, on my part, was excellent. He was very much pleased; he took the +money, commended me, and told me I might have done the same thing the week +before. It is a blessed thing that the tyrant may not always know the thoughts +and purposes of his victim. Master Hugh little knew what my plans were. The +going to camp-meeting without asking his permission—the insolent answers +made to his reproaches—the sulky deportment the week after being deprived +of the privilege of hiring my time—had awakened in him the suspicion that +I might be cherishing disloyal purposes. My object, therefore, in working +steadily, was to remove suspicion, and in this I succeeded admirably. He +probably thought I was never better satisfied with my condition, than at the +very time I was planning my escape. The second week passed, and again I carried +him my full week’s wages—<i>nine dollars;</i> and so well pleased +was he, that he gave me TWENTY-FIVE CENTS! and “bade me make good use of +it!” I told him I would, for one of the uses to which I meant to put it, +was to pay my fare on the underground railroad. +</p> + +<p> +Things without went on as usual; but I was passing through the same internal +excitement and anxiety which I had experienced two years and a half before. The +failure, in that instance, was not calculated to increase my confidence in the +success of this, my second attempt; and I knew that a second failure could not +leave me where my first did—I must either get to the <i>far north</i>, or +be sent to the <i>far south</i>. Besides the exercise of mind from this state +of facts, I had the painful sensation of being about to separate from a circle +of honest and warm hearted friends, in Baltimore. The thought of such a +separation, where the hope of ever meeting again is excluded, and where there +can be no correspondence, is very painful. It is my opinion, that thousands +would escape from slavery who now remain there, but for the strong cords of +affection that bind them to their families, relatives and friends. The daughter +is hindered from escaping, by the love she bears her mother, and the father, by +the love he bears his children; and so, to the end of the chapter. I had no +relations in Baltimore, and I saw no probability of ever living in the +neighborhood of sisters and brothers; but the thought of leaving my friends, +was among the strongest obstacles to my running away. The last two days of the +week—Friday and Saturday—were spent mostly in collecting my things +together, for my journey. Having worked four days that week, for my master, I +handed him six dollars, on Saturday night. I seldom spent my Sundays at home; +and, for fear that something might be discovered in my conduct, I kept up my +custom, and absented myself all day. On Monday, the third day of September, +1838, in accordance with my resolution, I bade farewell to the city of +Baltimore, and to that slavery which had been my abhorrence from childhood. +</p> + +<p> +How I got away—in what direction I traveled—whether by land or by +water; whether with or without assistance—must, for reasons already +mentioned, remain unexplained. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"></a> +LIFE as a FREEMAN</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"></a> +CHAPTER XXII. <i>Liberty Attained</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +TRANSITION FROM SLAVERY TO FREEDOM—A WANDERER IN NEW YORK—FEELINGS +ON REACHING THAT CITY—AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE MET—UNFAVORABLE +IMPRESSIONS—LONELINESS AND INSECURITY—APOLOGY FOR SLAVES WHO RETURN +TO THEIR MASTERS—COMPELLED TO TELL MY CONDITION—SUCCORED BY A +SAILOR—DAVID RUGGLES—THE UNDERGROUND +RAILROAD—MARRIAGE—BAGGAGE TAKEN FROM ME—KINDNESS OF NATHAN +JOHNSON—MY CHANGE OF NAME—DARK NOTIONS OF NORTHERN +CIVILIZATION—THE CONTRAST—COLORED PEOPLE IN NEW BEDFORD—AN +INCIDENT ILLUSTRATING THEIR SPIRIT—A COMMON LABORER—DENIED WORK AT +MY TRADE—THE FIRST WINTER AT THE NORTH—REPULSE AT THE DOORS OF THE +CHURCH—SANCTIFIED HATE—THE <i>Liberator</i> AND ITS EDITOR. +</p> + +<p> +There is no necessity for any extended notice of the incidents of this part of +my life. There is nothing very striking or peculiar about my career as a +freeman, when viewed apart from my life as a slave. The relation subsisting +between my early experience and that which I am now about to narrate, is, +perhaps, my best apology for adding another chapter to this book. +</p> + +<p> +Disappearing from the kind reader, in a flying cloud or balloon (pardon the +figure), driven by the wind, and knowing not where I should land—whether +in slavery or in freedom—it is proper that I should remove, at once, all +anxiety, by frankly making known where I alighted. The flight was a bold and +perilous one; but here I am, in the great city of New York, safe and sound, +without loss of blood or bone. In less than a week after leaving Baltimore, I +was walking amid the hurrying throng, and gazing upon the dazzling wonders of +Broadway. The dreams of my childhood and the purposes of my manhood were now +fulfilled. A free state around me, and a free earth under my feet! What a +moment was this to me! A whole year was pressed into a single day. A new world +burst upon my agitated vision. I have often been asked, by kind friends to whom +I have told my story, how I felt when first I found myself beyond the limits of +slavery; and I must say here, as I have often said to them, there is scarcely +anything about which I could not give a more satisfactory answer. It was a +moment of joyous excitement, which no words can describe. In a letter to a +friend, written soon after reaching New York. I said I felt as one might be +supposed to feel, on escaping from a den of hungry lions. But, in a moment like +that, sensations are too intense and too rapid for words. Anguish and grief, +like darkness and rain, may be described, but joy and gladness, like the +rainbow of promise, defy alike the pen and pencil. +</p> + +<p> +For ten or fifteen years I had been dragging a heavy chain, with a huge block +attached to it, cumbering my every motion. I had felt myself doomed to drag +this chain and this block through life. All efforts, before, to separate myself +from the hateful encumbrance, had only seemed to rivet me the more firmly to +it. Baffled and discouraged at times, I had asked myself the question, May not +this, after all, be God’s work? May He not, for wise ends, have doomed me +to this lot? A contest had been going on in my mind for years, between the +clear consciousness of right and the plausible errors of superstition; between +the wisdom of manly courage, and the foolish weakness of timidity. The contest +was now ended; the chain was severed; God and right stood vindicated. I was A +FREEMAN, and the voice of peace and joy thrilled my heart. +</p> + +<p> +Free and joyous, however, as I was, joy was not the only sensation I +experienced. It was like the quick blaze, beautiful at the first, but which +subsiding, leaves the building charred and desolate. I was soon taught that I +was still in an enemy’s land. A sense of loneliness and insecurity +oppressed me sadly. I had been but a few hours in New York, before I was met in +the streets by a fugitive slave, well known to me, and the information I got +from him respecting New York, did nothing to lessen my apprehension of danger. +The fugitive in question was “Allender’s Jake,” in Baltimore; +but, said he, I am “WILLIAM DIXON,” in New York! I knew Jake well, +and knew when Tolly Allender and Mr. Price (for the latter employed Master Hugh +as his foreman, in his shipyard on Fell’s Point) made an attempt to +recapture Jake, and failed. Jake told me all about his circumstances, and how +narrowly he escaped being taken back to slavery; that the city was now full of +southerners, returning from the springs; that the black people in New York were +not to be trusted; that there were hired men on the lookout for fugitives from +slavery, and who, for a few dollars, would betray me into the hands of the +slave-catchers; that I must trust no man with my secret; that I must not think +of going either on the wharves to work, or to a boarding-house to board; and, +worse still, this same Jake told me it was not in his power to help me. He +seemed, even while cautioning me, to be fearing lest, after all, I might be a +party to a second attempt to recapture him. Under the inspiration of this +thought, I must suppose it was, he gave signs of a wish to get rid of me, and +soon left me his whitewash brush in hand—as he said, for his work. He was +soon lost to sight among the throng, and I was alone again, an easy prey to the +kidnappers, if any should happen to be on my track. +</p> + +<p> +New York, seventeen years ago, was less a place of safety for a runaway slave +than now, and all know how unsafe it now is, under the new fugitive slave bill. +I was much troubled. I had very little money enough to buy me a few loaves of +bread, but not enough to pay board, outside a lumber yard. I saw the wisdom of +keeping away from the ship yards, for if Master Hugh pursued me, he would +naturally expect to find me looking for work among the calkers. For a time, +every door seemed closed against me. A sense of my loneliness and helplessness +crept over me, and covered me with something bordering on despair. In the midst +of thousands of my fellowmen, and yet a perfect stranger! In the midst of human +brothers, and yet more fearful of them than of hungry wolves! I was without +home, without friends, without work, without money, and without any definite +knowledge of which way to go, or where to look for succor. +</p> + +<p> +Some apology can easily be made for the few slaves who have, after making good +their escape, turned back to slavery, preferring the actual rule of their +masters, to the life of loneliness, apprehension, hunger, and anxiety, which +meets them on their first arrival in a free state. It is difficult for a +freeman to enter into the feelings of such fugitives. He cannot see things in +the same light with the slave, because he does not, and cannot, look from the +same point from which the slave does. “Why do you tremble,” he says +to the slave “you are in a free state;” but the difficulty is, in +realizing that he is in a free state, the slave might reply. A freeman cannot +understand why the slave-master’s shadow is bigger, to the slave, than +the might and majesty of a free state; but when he reflects that the slave +knows more about the slavery of his master than he does of the might and +majesty of the free state, he has the explanation. The slave has been all his +life learning the power of his master—being trained to dread his +approach—and only a few hours learning the power of the state. The master +is to him a stern and flinty reality, but the state is little more than a +dream. He has been accustomed to regard every white man as the friend of his +master, and every colored man as more or less under the control of his +master’s friends—the white people. It takes stout nerves to stand +up, in such circumstances. A man, homeless, shelterless, breadless, friendless, +and moneyless, is not in a condition to assume a very proud or joyous tone; and +in just this condition was I, while wandering about the streets of New York +city and lodging, at least one night, among the barrels on one of its wharves. +I was not only free from slavery, but I was free from home, as well. The reader +will easily see that I had something more than the simple fact of being free to +think of, in this extremity. +</p> + +<p> +I kept my secret as long as I could, and at last was forced to go in search of +an honest man—a man sufficiently <i>human</i> not to betray me into the +hands of slave-catchers. I was not a bad reader of the human face, nor long in +selecting the right man, when once compelled to disclose the facts of my +condition to some one. +</p> + +<p> +I found my man in the person of one who said his name was Stewart. He was a +sailor, warm-hearted and generous, and he listened to my story with a +brother’s interest. I told him I was running for my freedom—knew +not where to go—money almost gone—was hungry—thought it +unsafe to go the shipyards for work, and needed a friend. Stewart promptly put +me in the way of getting out of my trouble. He took me to his house, and went +in search of the late David Ruggles, who was then the secretary of the New York +Vigilance Committee, and a very active man in all anti-slavery works. Once in +the hands of Mr. Ruggles, I was comparatively safe. I was hidden with Mr. +Ruggles several days. In the meantime, my intended wife, Anna, came on from +Baltimore—to whom I had written, informing her of my safe arrival at New +York—and, in the presence of Mrs. Mitchell and Mr. Ruggles, we were +married, by Rev. James W. C. Pennington. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Ruggles <a href="#linknote-7" name="linknoteref-7"><small>7</small></a> was +the first officer on the under-ground railroad with whom I met after reaching +the north, and, indeed, the first of whom I ever heard anything. Learning that +I was a calker by trade, he promptly decided that New Bedford was the proper +place to send me. “Many ships,” said he, “are there fitted +out for the whaling business, and you may there find work at your trade, and +make a good living.” Thus, in one fortnight after my flight from +Maryland, I was safe in New Bedford, regularly entered upon the exercise of the +rights, responsibilities, and duties of a freeman. +</p> + +<p> +I may mention a little circumstance which annoyed me on reaching New Bedford. I +had not a cent of money, and lacked two dollars toward paying our fare from +Newport, and our baggage not very costly—was taken by the stage driver, +and held until I could raise the money to redeem it. This difficulty was soon +surmounted. Mr. Nathan Johnson, to whom we had a line from Mr. Ruggles, not +only received us kindly and hospitably, but, on being informed about our +baggage, promptly loaned me two dollars with which to redeem my little +property. I shall ever be deeply grateful, both to Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Johnson, +for the lively interest they were pleased to take in me, in this hour of my +extremest need. They not only gave myself and wife bread and shelter, but +taught us how to begin to secure those benefits for ourselves. Long may they +live, and may blessings attend them in this life and in that which is to come! +</p> + +<p> +Once initiated into the new life of freedom, and assured by Mr. Johnson that +New Bedford was a safe place, the comparatively unimportant matter, as to what +should be my name, came up for considertion(sic). It was necessary to have a +name in my new relations. The name given me by my beloved mother was no less +pretentious than “Frederick Augustus Washington Bailey.” I had, +however, before leaving Maryland, dispensed with the <i>Augustus +Washington</i>, and retained the name <i>Frederick Bailey</i>. Between +Baltimore and New Bedford, however, I had several different names, the better +to avoid being overhauled by the hunters, which I had good reason to believe +would be put on my track. Among honest men an honest man may well be content +with one name, and to acknowledge it at all times and in all places; but toward +fugitives, Americans are not honest. When I arrived at New Bedford, my name was +Johnson; and finding that the Johnson family in New Bedford were already quite +numerous—sufficiently so to produce some confusion in attempts to +distinguish one from another—there was the more reason for making another +change in my name. In fact, “Johnson” had been assumed by nearly +every slave who had arrived in New Bedford from Maryland, and this, much to the +annoyance of the original “Johnsons” (of whom there were many) in +that place. Mine host, unwilling to have another of his own name added to the +community in this unauthorized way, after I spent a night and a day at his +house, gave me my present name. He had been reading the “Lady of the +Lake,” and was pleased to regard me as a suitable person to wear this, +one of Scotland’s many famous names. Considering the noble hospitality +and manly character of Nathan Johnson, I have felt that he, better than I, +illustrated the virtues of the great Scottish chief. Sure I am, that had any +slave-catcher entered his domicile, with a view to molest any one of his +household, he would have shown himself like him of the “stalwart +hand.” +</p> + +<p> +The reader will be amused at my ignorance, when I tell the notions I had of the +state of northern wealth, enterprise, and civilization. Of wealth and +refinement, I supposed the north had none. My <i>Columbian Orator</i>, which +was almost my only book, had not done much to enlighten me concerning northern +society. The impressions I had received were all wide of the truth. New +Bedford, especially, took me by surprise, in the solid wealth and grandeur +there exhibited. I had formed my notions respecting the social condition of the +free states, by what I had seen and known of free, white, non-slaveholding +people in the slave states. Regarding slavery as the basis of wealth, I fancied +that no people could become very wealthy without slavery. A free white man, +holding no slaves, in the country, I had known to be the most ignorant and +poverty-stricken of men, and the laughing stock even of slaves +themselves—called generally by them, in derision, <i>“poor white +trash</i>.” Like the non-slaveholders at the south, in holding no slaves, +I suppose the northern people like them, also, in poverty and degradation. +Judge, then, of my amazement and joy, when I found—as I did +find—the very laboring population of New Bedford living in better houses, +more elegantly furnished—surrounded by more comfort and +refinement—than a majority of the slaveholders on the Eastern Shore of +Maryland. There was my friend, Mr. Johnson, himself a colored man (who at the +south would have been regarded as a proper marketable commodity), who lived in +a better house—dined at a richer board—was the owner of more +books—the reader of more newspapers—was more conversant with the +political and social condition of this nation and the world—than +nine-tenths of all the slaveholders of Talbot county, Maryland. Yet Mr. Johnson +was a working man, and his hands were hardened by honest toil. Here, then, was +something for observation and study. Whence the difference? The explanation was +soon furnished, in the superiority of mind over simple brute force. Many pages +might be given to the contrast, and in explanation of its causes. But an +incident or two will suffice to show the reader as to how the mystery gradually +vanished before me. +</p> + +<p> +My first afternoon, on reaching New Bedford, was spent in visiting the wharves +and viewing the shipping. The sight of the broad brim and the plain, Quaker +dress, which met me at every turn, greatly increased my sense of freedom and +security. “I am among the Quakers,” thought I, “and am +safe.” Lying at the wharves and riding in the stream, were full-rigged +ships of finest model, ready to start on whaling voyages. Upon the right and +the left, I was walled in by large granite-fronted warehouses, crowded with the +good things of this world. On the wharves, I saw industry without bustle, labor +without noise, and heavy toil without the whip. There was no loud singing, as +in southern ports, where ships are loading or unloading—no loud cursing +or swearing—but everything went on as smoothly as the works of a well +adjusted machine. How different was all this from the nosily fierce and +clumsily absurd manner of labor-life in Baltimore and St. Michael’s! One +of the first incidents which illustrated the superior mental character of +northern labor over that of the south, was the manner of unloading a +ship’s cargo of oil. In a southern port, twenty or thirty hands would +have been employed to do what five or six did here, with the aid of a single ox +attached to the end of a fall. Main strength, unassisted by skill, is +slavery’s method of labor. An old ox, worth eighty dollars, was doing, in +New Bedford, what would have required fifteen thousand dollars worth of human +bones and muscles to have performed in a southern port. I found that everything +was done here with a scrupulous regard to economy, both in regard to men and +things, time and strength. The maid servant, instead of spending at least a +tenth part of her time in bringing and carrying water, as in Baltimore, had the +pump at her elbow. The wood was dry, and snugly piled away for winter. +Woodhouses, in-door pumps, sinks, drains, self-shutting gates, washing +machines, pounding barrels, were all new things, and told me that I was among a +thoughtful and sensible people. To the ship-repairing dock I went, and saw the +same wise prudence. The carpenters struck where they aimed, and the calkers +wasted no blows in idle flourishes of the mallet. I learned that men went from +New Bedford to Baltimore, and bought old ships, and brought them here to +repair, and made them better and more valuable than they ever were before. Men +talked here of going whaling on a four <i>years’</i> voyage with more +coolness than sailors where I came from talked of going a four +<i>months’</i> voyage. +</p> + +<p> +I now find that I could have landed in no part of the United States, where I +should have found a more striking and gratifying contrast to the condition of +the free people of color in Baltimore, than I found here in New Bedford. No +colored man is really free in a slaveholding state. He wears the badge of +bondage while nominally free, and is often subjected to hardships to which the +slave is a stranger; but here in New Bedford, it was my good fortune to see a +pretty near approach to freedom on the part of the colored people. I was taken +all aback when Mr. Johnson—who lost no time in making me acquainted with +the fact—told me that there was nothing in the constitution of +Massachusetts to prevent a colored man from holding any office in the state. +There, in New Bedford, the black man’s children—although +anti-slavery was then far from popular—went to school side by side with +the white children, and apparently without objection from any quarter. To make +me at home, Mr. Johnson assured me that no slaveholder could take a slave from +New Bedford; that there were men there who would lay down their lives, before +such an outrage could be perpetrated. The colored people themselves were of the +best metal, and would fight for liberty to the death. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after my arrival in New Bedford, I was told the following story, which was +said to illustrate the spirit of the colored people in that goodly town: A +colored man and a fugitive slave happened to have a little quarrel, and the +former was heard to threaten the latter with informing his master of his +whereabouts. As soon as this threat became known, a notice was read from the +desk of what was then the only colored church in the place, stating that +business of importance was to be then and there transacted. Special measures +had been taken to secure the attendance of the would-be Judas, and had proved +successful. Accordingly, at the hour appointed, the people came, and the +betrayer also. All the usual formalities of public meetings were scrupulously +gone through, even to the offering prayer for Divine direction in the duties of +the occasion. The president himself performed this part of the ceremony, and I +was told that he was unusually fervent. Yet, at the close of his prayer, the +old man (one of the numerous family of Johnsons) rose from his knees, +deliberately surveyed his audience, and then said, in a tone of solemn +resolution, <i>“Well, friends, we have got him here, and I would now +recommend that you young men should just take him outside the door and kill +him.”</i> With this, a large body of the congregation, who well +understood the business they had come there to transact, made a rush at the +villain, and doubtless would have killed him, had he not availed himself of an +open sash, and made good his escape. He has never shown his head in New Bedford +since that time. This little incident is perfectly characteristic of the spirit +of the colored people in New Bedford. A slave could not be taken from that town +seventeen years ago, any more than he could be so taken away now. The reason +is, that the colored people in that city are educated up to the point of +fighting for their freedom, as well as speaking for it. +</p> + +<p> +Once assured of my safety in New Bedford, I put on the habiliments of a common +laborer, and went on the wharf in search of work. I had no notion of living on +the honest and generous sympathy of my colored brother, Johnson, or that of the +abolitionists. My cry was like that of Hood’s laborer, “Oh! only +give me work.” Happily for me, I was not long in searching. I found +employment, the third day after my arrival in New Bedford, in stowing a sloop +with a load of oil for the New York market. It was new, hard, and dirty work, +even for a calker, but I went at it with a glad heart and a willing hand. I was +now my own master—a tremendous fact—and the rapturous excitement +with which I seized the job, may not easily be understood, except by some one +with an experience like mine. The thoughts—“I can work! I can work +for a living; I am not afraid of work; I have no Master Hugh to rob me of my +earnings”—placed me in a state of independence, beyond seeking +friendship or support of any man. That day’s work I considered the real +starting point of something like a new existence. Having finished this job and +got my pay for the same, I went next in pursuit of a job at calking. It so +happened that Mr. Rodney French, late mayor of the city of New Bedford, had a +ship fitting out for sea, and to which there was a large job of calking and +coppering to be done. I applied to that noblehearted man for employment, and he +promptly told me to go to work; but going on the float-stage for the purpose, I +was informed that every white man would leave the ship if I struck a blow upon +her. “Well, well,” thought I, “this is a hardship, but yet +not a very serious one for me.” The difference between the wages of a +calker and that of a common day laborer, was an hundred per cent in favor of +the former; but then I was free, and free to work, though not at my trade. I +now prepared myself to do anything which came to hand in the way of turning an +honest penny; sawed wood—dug cellars—shoveled coal—swept +chimneys with Uncle Lucas Debuty—rolled oil casks on the +wharves—helped to load and unload vessels—worked in +Ricketson’s candle works—in Richmond’s brass foundery, and +elsewhere; and thus supported myself and family for three years. +</p> + +<p> +The first winter was unusually severe, in consequence of the high prices of +food; but even during that winter we probably suffered less than many who had +been free all their lives. During the hardest of the winter, I hired out for +nine dolars(sic) a month; and out of this rented two rooms for nine dollars per +quarter, and supplied my wife—who was unable to work—with food and +some necessary articles of furniture. We were closely pinched to bring our +wants within our means; but the jail stood over the way, and I had a wholesome +dread of the consequences of running in debt. This winter past, and I was up +with the times—got plenty of work—got well paid for it—and +felt that I had not done a foolish thing to leave Master Hugh and Master +Thomas. I was now living in a new world, and was wide awake to its advantages. +I early began to attend the meetings of the colored people of New Bedford, and +to take part in them. I was somewhat amazed to see colored men drawing up +resolutions and offering them for consideration. Several colored young men of +New Bedford, at that period, gave promise of great usefulness. They were +educated, and possessed what seemed to me, at the time, very superior talents. +Some of them have been cut down by death, and others have removed to different +parts of the world, and some remain there now, and justify, in their present +activities, my early impressions of them. +</p> + +<p> +Among my first concerns on reaching New Bedford, was to become united with the +church, for I had never given up, in reality, my religious faith. I had become +lukewarm and in a backslidden state, but I was still convinced that it was my +duty to join the Methodist church. I was not then aware of the powerful +influence of that religious body in favor of the enslavement of my race, nor +did I see how the northern churches could be responsible for the conduct of +southern churches; neither did I fully understand how it could be my duty to +remain separate from the church, because bad men were connected with it. The +slaveholding church, with its Coveys, Weedens, Aulds, and Hopkins, I could see +through at once, but I could not see how Elm Street church, in New Bedford, +could be regarded as sanctioning the Christianity of these characters in the +church at St. Michael’s. I therefore resolved to join the Methodist +church in New Bedford, and to enjoy the spiritual advantage of public worship. +The minister of the Elm Street Methodist church, was the Rev. Mr. Bonney; and +although I was not allowed a seat in the body of the house, and was proscribed +on account of my color, regarding this proscription simply as an accommodation +of the uncoverted congregation who had not yet been won to Christ and his +brotherhood, I was willing thus to be proscribed, lest sinners should be driven +away form the saving power of the gospel. Once converted, I thought they would +be sure to treat me as a man and a brother. “Surely,” thought I, +“these Christian people have none of this feeling against color. They, at +least, have renounced this unholy feeling.” Judge, then, dear reader, of +my astonishment and mortification, when I found, as soon I did find, all my +charitable assumptions at fault. +</p> + +<p> +An opportunity was soon afforded me for ascertaining the exact position of Elm +Street church on that subject. I had a chance of seeing the religious part of +the congregation by themselves; and although they disowned, in effect, their +black brothers and sisters, before the world, I did think that where none but +the saints were assembled, and no offense could be given to the wicked, and the +gospel could not be “blamed,” they would certainly recognize us as +children of the same Father, and heirs of the same salvation, on equal terms +with themselves. +</p> + +<p> +The occasion to which I refer, was the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, +that most sacred and most solemn of all the ordinances of the Christian church. +Mr. Bonney had preached a very solemn and searching discourse, which really +proved him to be acquainted with the inmost secerts(sic) of the human heart. At +the close of his discourse, the congregation was dismissed, and the church +remained to partake of the sacrament. I remained to see, as I thought, this +holy sacrament celebrated in the spirit of its great Founder. +</p> + +<p> +There were only about a half dozen colored members attached to the Elm Street +church, at this time. After the congregation was dismissed, these descended +from the gallery, and took a seat against the wall most distant from the altar. +Brother Bonney was very animated, and sung very sweetly, “Salvation +‘tis a joyful sound,” and soon began to administer the sacrament. I +was anxious to observe the bearing of the colored members, and the result was +most humiliating. During the whole ceremony, they looked like sheep without a +shepherd. The white members went forward to the altar by the bench full; and +when it was evident that all the whites had been served with the bread and +wine, Brother Bonney—pious Brother Bonney—after a long pause, as if +inquiring whether all the whites members had been served, and fully assuring +himself on that important point, then raised his voice to an unnatural pitch, +and looking to the corner where his black sheep seemed penned, beckoned with +his hand, exclaiming, “Come forward, colored friends! come forward! You, +too, have an interest in the blood of Christ. God is no respecter of persons. +Come forward, and take this holy sacrament to your comfort.” The colored +members poor, slavish souls went forward, as invited. I went out, and have +never been in that church since, although I honestly went there with a view to +joining that body. I found it impossible to respect the religious profession of +any who were under the dominion of this wicked prejudice, and I could not, +therefore, feel that in joining them, I was joining a Christian church, at all. +I tried other churches in New Bedford, with the same result, and finally, I +attached myself to a small body of colored Methodists, known as the Zion +Methodists. Favored with the affection and confidence of the members of this +humble communion, I was soon made a classleader and a local preacher among +them. Many seasons of peace and joy I experienced among them, the remembrance +of which is still precious, although I could not see it to be my duty to remain +with that body, when I found that it consented to the same spirit which held my +brethren in chains. +</p> + +<p> +In four or five months after reaching New Bedford, there came a young man to +me, with a copy of the <i>Liberator</i>, the paper edited by WILLIAM LLOYD +GARRISON, and published by ISAAC KNAPP, and asked me to subscribe for it. I +told him I had but just escaped from slavery, and was of course very poor, and +remarked further, that I was unable to pay for it then; the agent, however, +very willingly took me as a subscriber, and appeared to be much pleased with +securing my name to his list. From this time I was brought in contact with the +mind of William Lloyd Garrison. His paper took its place with me next to the +bible. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Liberator</i> was a paper after my own heart. It detested slavery +exposed hypocrisy and wickedness in high places—made no truce with the +traffickers in the bodies and souls of men; it preached human brotherhood, +denounced oppression, and, with all the solemnity of God’s word, demanded +the complete emancipation of my race. I not only liked—I <i>loved</i> +this paper, and its editor. He seemed a match for all the oponents(sic) of +emancipation, whether they spoke in the name of the law, or the gospel. His +words were few, full of holy fire, and straight to the point. Learning to love +him, through his paper, I was prepared to be pleased with his presence. +Something of a hero worshiper, by nature, here was one, on first sight, to +excite my love and reverence. +</p> + +<p> +Seventeen years ago, few men possessed a more heavenly countenance than William +Lloyd Garrison, and few men evinced a more genuine or a more exalted piety. The +bible was his text book—held sacred, as the word of the Eternal +Father—sinless perfection—complete submission to insults and +injuries—literal obedience to the injunction, if smitten on one side to +turn the other also. Not only was Sunday a Sabbath, but all days were Sabbaths, +and to be kept holy. All sectarism false and mischievous—the regenerated, +throughout the world, members of one body, and the HEAD Christ Jesus. Prejudice +against color was rebellion against God. Of all men beneath the sky, the +slaves, because most neglected and despised, were nearest and dearest to his +great heart. Those ministers who defended slavery from the bible, were of their +“father the devil”; and those churches which fellowshiped +slaveholders as Christians, were synagogues of Satan, and our nation was a +nation of liars. Never loud or noisy—calm and serene as a summer sky, and +as pure. “You are the man, the Moses, raised up by God, to deliver his +modern Israel from bondage,” was the spontaneous feeling of my heart, as +I sat away back in the hall and listened to his mighty words; mighty in +truth—mighty in their simple earnestness. +</p> + +<p> +I had not long been a reader of the <i>Liberator</i>, and listener to its +editor, before I got a clear apprehension of the principles of the anti-slavery +movement. I had already the spirit of the movement, and only needed to +understand its principles and measures. These I got from the <i>Liberator</i>, +and from those who believed in that paper. My acquaintance with the movement +increased my hope for the ultimate freedom of my race, and I united with it +from a sense of delight, as well as duty. +</p> + +<p> +Every week the <i>Liberator</i> came, and every week I made myself master of +its contents. All the anti-slavery meetings held in New Bedford I promptly +attended, my heart burning at every true utterance against the slave system, +and every rebuke of its friends and supporters. Thus passed the first three +years of my residence in New Bedford. I had not then dreamed of the +posibility(sic) of my becoming a public advocate of the cause so deeply +imbedded in my heart. It was enough for me to listen—to receive and +applaud the great words of others, and only whisper in private, among the white +laborers on the wharves, and elsewhere, the truths which burned in my breast. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"></a> +CHAPTER XXIII. <i>Introduced to the Abolitionists</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +FIRST SPEECH AT NANTUCKET—MUCH SENSATION—EXTRAORDINARY SPEECH OF +MR. GARRISON—AUTHOR BECOMES A PUBLIC LECTURER—FOURTEEN YEARS +EXPERIENCE—YOUTHFUL ENTHUSIASM—A BRAND NEW FACT—MATTER OF MY +AUTHOR’S SPEECH—COULD NOT FOLLOW THE PROGRAMME—FUGITIVE +SLAVESHIP DOUBTED—TO SETTLE ALL DOUBT I WRITE MY EXPERIENCE OF +SLAVERY—DANGER OF RECAPTURE INCREASED. +</p> + +<p> +In the summer of 1841, a grand anti-slavery convention was held in Nantucket, +under the auspices of Mr. Garrison and his friends. Until now, I had taken no +holiday since my escape from slavery. Having worked very hard that spring and +summer, in Richmond’s brass foundery—sometimes working all night as +well as all day—and needing a day or two of rest, I attended this +convention, never supposing that I should take part in the proceedings. Indeed, +I was not aware that any one connected with the convention even so much as knew +my name. I was, however, quite mistaken. Mr. William C. Coffin, a prominent +abolitionst(sic) in those days of trial, had heard me speaking to my colored +friends, in the little school house on Second street, New Bedford, where we +worshiped. He sought me out in the crowd, and invited me to say a few words to +the convention. Thus sought out, and thus invited, I was induced to speak out +the feelings inspired by the occasion, and the fresh recollection of the scenes +through which I had passed as a slave. My speech on this occasion is about the +only one I ever made, of which I do not remember a single connected sentence. +It was with the utmost difficulty that I could stand erect, or that I could +command and articulate two words without hesitation and stammering. I trembled +in every limb. I am not sure that my embarrassment was not the most effective +part of my speech, if speech it could be called. At any rate, this is about the +only part of my performance that I now distinctly remember. But excited and +convulsed as I was, the audience, though remarkably quiet before, became as +much excited as myself. Mr. Garrison followed me, taking me as his text; and +now, whether I had made an eloquent speech in behalf of freedom or not, his was +one never to be forgotten by those who heard it. Those who had heard Mr. +Garrison oftenest, and had known him longest, were astonished. It was an effort +of unequaled power, sweeping down, like a very tornado, every opposing barrier, +whether of sentiment or opinion. For a moment, he possessed that almost +fabulous inspiration, often referred to but seldom attained, in which a public +meeting is transformed, as it were, into a single individuality—the +orator wielding a thousand heads and hearts at once, and by the simple majesty +of his all controlling thought, converting his hearers into the express image +of his own soul. That night there were at least one thousand Garrisonians in +Nantucket! A(sic) the close of this great meeting, I was duly waited on by Mr. +John A. Collins—then the general agent of the Massachusetts anti-slavery +society—and urgently solicited by him to become an agent of that society, +and to publicly advocate its anti-slavery principles. I was reluctant to take +the proffered position. I had not been quite three years from slavery—was +honestly distrustful of my ability—wished to be excused; publicity +exposed me to discovery and arrest by my master; and other objections came up, +but Mr. Collins was not to be put off, and I finally consented to go out for +three months, for I supposed that I should have got to the end of my story and +my usefulness, in that length of time. +</p> + +<p> +Here opened upon me a new life a life for which I had had no preparation. I was +a “graduate from the peculiar institution,” Mr. Collins used to +say, when introducing me, <i>“with my diploma written on my +back!”</i> The three years of my freedom had been spent in the hard +school of adversity. My hands had been furnished by nature with something like +a solid leather coating, and I had bravely marked out for myself a life of +rough labor, suited to the hardness of my hands, as a means of supporting +myself and rearing my children. +</p> + +<p> +Now what shall I say of this fourteen years’ experience as a public +advocate of the cause of my enslaved brothers and sisters? The time is but as a +speck, yet large enough to justify a pause for retrospection—and a pause +it must only be. +</p> + +<p> +Young, ardent, and hopeful, I entered upon this new life in the full gush of +unsuspecting enthusiasm. The cause was good; the men engaged in it were good; +the means to attain its triumph, good; Heaven’s blessing must attend all, +and freedom must soon be given to the pining millions under a ruthless bondage. +My whole heart went with the holy cause, and my most fervent prayer to the +Almighty Disposer of the hearts of men, were continually offered for its early +triumph. “Who or what,” thought I, “can withstand a cause so +good, so holy, so indescribably glorious. The God of Israel is with us. The +might of the Eternal is on our side. Now let but the truth be spoken, and a +nation will start forth at the sound!” In this enthusiastic spirit, I +dropped into the ranks of freedom’s friends, and went forth to the +battle. For a time I was made to forget that my skin was dark and my hair +crisped. For a time I regretted that I could not have shared the hardships and +dangers endured by the earlier workers for the slave’s release. I soon, +however, found that my enthusiasm had been extravagant; that hardships and +dangers were not yet passed; and that the life now before me, had shadows as +well as sunbeams. +</p> + +<p> +Among the first duties assigned me, on entering the ranks, was to travel, in +company with Mr. George Foster, to secure subscribers to the <i>Anti-slavery +Standard</i> and the <i>Liberator</i>. With him I traveled and lectured through +the eastern counties of Massachusetts. Much interest was awakened—large +meetings assembled. Many came, no doubt, from curiosity to hear what a Negro +could say in his own cause. I was generally introduced as a +<i>“chattel”—</i>a<i>“thing”</i>—a piece of +southern <i>“property”</i>—the chairman assuring the audience +that <i>it</i> could speak. Fugitive slaves, at that time, were not so +plentiful as now; and as a fugitive slave lecturer, I had the advantage of +being a <i>“brand new fact”</i>—the first one out. Up to that +time, a colored man was deemed a fool who confessed himself a runaway slave, +not only because of the danger to which he exposed himself of being retaken, +but because it was a confession of a very <i>low</i> origin! Some of my colored +friends in New Bedford thought very badly of my wisdom for thus exposing and +degrading myself. The only precaution I took, at the beginning, to prevent +Master Thomas from knowing where I was, and what I was about, was the +withholding my former name, my master’s name, and the name of the state +and county from which I came. During the first three or four months, my +speeches were almost exclusively made up of narrations of my own personal +experience as a slave. “Let us have the facts,” said the people. So +also said Friend George Foster, who always wished to pin me down to my simple +narrative. “Give us the facts,” said Collins, “we will take +care of the philosophy.” Just here arose some embarrassment. It was +impossible for me to repeat the same old story month after month, and to keep +up my interest in it. It was new to the people, it is true, but it was an old +story to me; and to go through with it night after night, was a task altogether +too mechanical for my nature. “Tell your story, Frederick,” would +whisper my then revered friend, William Lloyd Garrison, as I stepped upon the +platform. I could not always obey, for I was now reading and thinking. New +views of the subject were presented to my mind. It did not entirely satisfy me +to <i>narrate</i> wrongs; I felt like <i>denouncing</i> them. I could not +always curb my moral indignation for the perpetrators of slaveholding villainy, +long enough for a circumstantial statement of the facts which I felt almost +everybody must know. Besides, I was growing, and needed room. “People +won’t believe you ever was a slave, Frederick, if you keep on this +way,” said Friend Foster. “Be yourself,” said Collins, +“and tell your story.” It was said to me, “Better have a +<i>little</i> of the plantation manner of speech than not; ‘tis not best +that you seem too learned.” These excellent friends were actuated by the +best of motives, and were not altogether wrong in their advice; and still I +must speak just the word that seemed to <i>me</i> the word to be spoken +<i>by</i> me. +</p> + +<p> +At last the apprehended trouble came. People doubted if I had ever been a +slave. They said I did not talk like a slave, look like a slave, nor act like a +slave, and that they believed I had never been south of Mason and Dixon’s +line. “He don’t tell us where he came from—what his +master’s name was—how he got away—nor the story of his +experience. Besides, he is educated, and is, in this, a contradiction of all +the facts we have concerning the ignorance of the slaves.” Thus, I was in +a pretty fair way to be denounced as an impostor. The committee of the +Massachusetts anti-slavery society knew all the facts in my case, and agreed +with me in the prudence of keeping them private. They, therefore, never doubted +my being a genuine fugitive; but going down the aisles of the churches in which +I spoke, and hearing the free spoken Yankees saying, repeatedly, +<i>“He’s never been a slave, I’ll warrant ye</i>,” I +resolved to dispel all doubt, at no distant day, by such a revelation of facts +as could not be made by any other than a genuine fugitive. +</p> + +<p> +In a little less than four years, therefore, after becoming a public lecturer, +I was induced to write out the leading facts connected with my experience in +slavery, giving names of persons, places, and dates—thus putting it in +the power of any who doubted, to ascertain the truth or falsehood of my story +of being a fugitive slave. This statement soon became known in Maryland, and I +had reason to believe that an effort would be made to recapture me. +</p> + +<p> +It is not probable that any open attempt to secure me as a slave could have +succeeded, further than the obtainment, by my master, of the money value of my +bones and sinews. Fortunately for me, in the four years of my labors in the +abolition cause, I had gained many friends, who would have suffered themselves +to be taxed to almost any extent to save me from slavery. It was felt that I +had committed the double offense of running away, and exposing the secrets and +crimes of slavery and slaveholders. There was a double motive for seeking my +reenslavement—avarice and vengeance; and while, as I have said, there was +little probability of successful recapture, if attempted openly, I was +constantly in danger of being spirited away, at a moment when my friends could +render me no assistance. In traveling about from place to place—often +alone I was much exposed to this sort of attack. Any one cherishing the design +to betray me, could easily do so, by simply tracing my whereabouts through the +anti-slavery journals, for my meetings and movements were promptly made known +in advance. My true friends, Mr. Garrison and Mr. Phillips, had no faith in the +power of Massachusetts to protect me in my right to liberty. Public sentiment +and the law, in their opinion, would hand me over to the tormentors. Mr. +Phillips, especially, considered me in danger, and said, when I showed him the +manuscript of my story, if in my place, he would throw it into the fire. Thus, +the reader will observe, the settling of one difficulty only opened the way for +another; and that though I had reached a free state, and had attained position +for public usefulness, I ws(sic) still tormented with the liability of losing +my liberty. How this liability was dispelled, will be related, with other +incidents, in the next chapter. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"></a> +CHAPTER XXIV. <i>Twenty-One Months in Great Britain</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +GOOD ARISING OUT OF UNPROPITIOUS EVENTS—DENIED CABIN +PASSAGE—PROSCRIPTION TURNED TO GOOD ACCOUNT—THE HUTCHINSON +FAMILY—THE MOB ON BOARD THE “CAMBRIA”—HAPPY +INTRODUCTION TO THE BRITISH PUBLIC—LETTER ADDRESSED TO WILLIAM LLOYD +GARRISON—TIME AND LABORS WHILE ABROAD—FREEDOM PURCHASED—MRS. +HENRY RICHARDSON—FREE PAPERS—ABOLITIONISTS DISPLEASED WITH THE +RANSOM—HOW MY ENERGIES WERE DIRECTED—RECEPTION SPEECH IN +LONDON—CHARACTER OF THE SPEECH DEFENDED—CIRCUMSTANCES +EXPLAINED—CAUSES CONTRIBUTING TO THE SUCCESS OF MY MISSION—FREE +CHURCH OF SCOTLAND—TESTIMONIAL. +</p> + +<p> +The allotments of Providence, when coupled with trouble and anxiety, often +conceal from finite vision the wisdom and goodness in which they are sent; and, +frequently, what seemed a harsh and invidious dispensation, is converted by +after experience into a happy and beneficial arrangement. Thus, the painful +liability to be returned again to slavery, which haunted me by day, and +troubled my dreams by night, proved to be a necessary step in the path of +knowledge and usefulness. The writing of my pamphlet, in the spring of 1845, +endangered my liberty, and led me to seek a refuge from republican slavery in +monarchical England. A rude, uncultivated fugitive slave was driven, by stern +necessity, to that country to which young American gentlemen go to increase +their stock of knowledge, to seek pleasure, to have their rough, democratic +manners softened by contact with English aristocratic refinement. On applying +for a passage to England, on board the “Cambria”, of the Cunard +line, my friend, James N. Buffum, of Lynn, Massachusetts, was informed that I +could not be received on board as a cabin passenger. American prejudice against +color triumphed over British liberality and civilization, and erected a color +test and condition for crossing the sea in the cabin of a British vessel. The +insult was keenly felt by my white friends, but to me, it was common, expected, +and therefore, a thing of no great consequence, whether I went in the cabin or +in the steerage. Moreover, I felt that if I could not go into the first cabin, +first-cabin passengers could come into the second cabin, and the result +justified my anticipations to the fullest extent. Indeed, I soon found myself +an object of more general interest than I wished to be; and so far from being +degraded by being placed in the second cabin, that part of the ship became the +scene of as much pleasure and refinement, during the voyage, as the cabin +itself. The Hutchinson Family, celebrated +vocalists—fellow-passengers—often came to my rude forecastle deck, +and sung their sweetest songs, enlivening the place with eloquent music, as +well as spirited conversation, during the voyage. In two days after leaving +Boston, one part of the ship was about as free to me as another. My +fellow-passengers not only visited me, but invited me to visit them, on the +saloon deck. My visits there, however, were but seldom. I preferred to live +within my privileges, and keep upon my own premises. I found this quite as much +in accordance with good policy, as with my own feelings. The effect was, that +with the majority of the passengers, all color distinctions were flung to the +winds, and I found myself treated with every mark of respect, from the +beginning to the end of the voyage, except in a single instance; and in that, I +came near being mobbed, for complying with an invitation given me by the +passengers, and the captain of the “Cambria,” to deliver a lecture +on slavery. Our New Orleans and Georgia passengers were pleased to regard my +lecture as an insult offered to them, and swore I should not speak. They went +so far as to threaten to throw me overboard, and but for the firmness of +Captain Judkins, probably would have (under the inspiration of <i>slavery</i> +and <i>brandy</i>) attempted to put their threats into execution. I have no +space to describe this scene, although its tragic and comic peculiarities are +well worth describing. An end was put to the <i>melee</i>, by the +captain’s calling the ship’s company to put the salt water +mobocrats in irons. At this determined order, the gentlemen of the lash +scampered, and for the rest of the voyage conducted themselves very decorously. +</p> + +<p> +This incident of the voyage, in two days after landing at Liverpool, brought me +at once before the British public, and that by no act of my own. The gentlemen +so promptly snubbed in their meditated violence, flew to the press to justify +their conduct, and to denounce me as a worthless and insolent Negro. This +course was even less wise than the conduct it was intended to sustain; for, +besides awakening something like a national interest in me, and securing me an +audience, it brought out counter statements, and threw the blame upon +themselves, which they had sought to fasten upon me and the gallant captain of +the ship. +</p> + +<p> +Some notion may be formed of the difference in my feelings and circumstances, +while abroad, from the following extract from one of a series of letters +addressed by me to Mr. Garrison, and published in the <i>Liberator</i>. It was +written on the first day of January, 1846: +</p> + +<p> +MY DEAR FRIEND GARRISON: Up to this time, I have given no direct expression of +the views, feelings, and opinions which I have formed, respecting the character +and condition of the people of this land. I have refrained thus, purposely. I +wish to speak advisedly, and in order to do this, I have waited till, I trust, +experience has brought my opinions to an intelligent maturity. I have been thus +careful, not because I think what I say will have much effect in shaping the +opinions of the world, but because whatever of influence I may possess, whether +little or much, I wish it to go in the right direction, and according to truth. +I hardly need say that, in speaking of Ireland, I shall be influenced by no +prejudices in favor of America. I think my circumstances all forbid that. I +have no end to serve, no creed to uphold, no government to defend; and as to +nation, I belong to none. I have no protection at home, or resting-place +abroad. The land of my birth welcomes me to her shores only as a slave, and +spurns with contempt the idea of treating me differently; so that I am an +outcast from the society of my childhood, and an outlaw in the land of my +birth. “I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers +were.” That men should be patriotic, is to me perfectly natural; and as a +philosophical fact, I am able to give it an <i>intellectual</i> recognition. +But no further can I go. If ever I had any patriotism, or any capacity for the +feeling, it was whipped out of me long since, by the lash of the American +soul-drivers. +</p> + +<p> +In thinking of America, I sometimes find myself admiring her bright blue sky, +her grand old woods, her fertile fields, her beautiful rivers, her mighty +lakes, and star-crowned mountains. But my rapture is soon checked, my joy is +soon turned to mourning. When I remember that all is cursed with the infernal +spirit of slaveholding, robbery, and wrong; when I remember that with the +waters of her noblest rivers, the tears of my brethren are borne to the ocean, +disregarded and forgotten, and that her most fertile fields drink daily of the +warm blood of my outraged sisters; I am filled with unutterable loathing, and +led to reproach myself that anything could fall from my lips in praise of such +a land. America will not allow her children to love her. She seems bent on +compelling those who would be her warmest friends, to be her worst enemies. May +God give her repentance, before it is too late, is the ardent prayer of my +heart. I will continue to pray, labor, and wait, believing that she cannot +always be insensible to the dictates of justice, or deaf to the voice of +humanity. +</p> + +<p> +My opportunities for learning the character and condition of the people of this +land have been very great. I have traveled almost from the Hill of Howth to the +Giant’s Causeway, and from the Giant’s Causway, to Cape Clear. +During these travels, I have met with much in the chara@@ and condition of the +people to approve, and much to condemn; much that @@thrilled me with pleasure, +and very much that has filled me with pain. I @@ @@t, in this letter, attempt +to give any description of those scenes which have given me pain. This I will +do hereafter. I have enough, and more than your subscribers will be disposed to +read at one time, of the bright side of the picture. I can truly say, I have +spent some of the happiest moments of my life since landing in this country. I +seem to have undergone a transformation. I live a new life. The warm and +generous cooperation extended to me by the friends of my despised race; the +prompt and liberal manner with which the press has rendered me its aid; the +glorious enthusiasm with which thousands have flocked to hear the cruel wrongs +of my down-trodden and long-enslaved fellow-countrymen portrayed; the deep +sympathy for the slave, and the strong abhorrence of the slaveholder, +everywhere evinced; the cordiality with which members and ministers of various +religious bodies, and of various shades of religious opinion, have embraced me, +and lent me their aid; the kind of hospitality constantly proffered to me by +persons of the highest rank in society; the spirit of freedom that seems to +animate all with whom I come in contact, and the entire absence of everything +that looked like prejudice against me, on account of the color of my +skin—contrasted so strongly with my long and bitter experience in the +United States, that I look with wonder and amazement on the transition. In the +southern part of the United States, I was a slave, thought of and spoken of as +property; in the language of the LAW, “<i>held, taken, reputed, and +adjudged to be a chattel in the hands of my owners and possessors, and their +executors, administrators, and assigns, to all intents, constructions, and +purposes whatsoever</i>.” (Brev. Digest, 224). In the northern states, a +fugitive slave, liable to be hunted at any moment, like a felon, and to be +hurled into the terrible jaws of slavery—doomed by an inveterate +prejudice against color to insult and outrage on every hand (Massachusetts out +of the question)—denied the privileges and courtesies common to others in +the use of the most humble means of conveyance—shut out from the cabins +on steamboats—refused admission to respectable hotels—caricatured, +scorned, scoffed, mocked, and maltreated with impunity by any one (no matter +how black his heart), so he has a white skin. But now behold the change! Eleven +days and a half gone, and I have crossed three thousand miles of the perilous +deep. Instead of a democratic government, I am under a monarchical government. +Instead of the bright, blue sky of America, I am covered with the soft, grey +fog of the Emerald Isle. I breathe, and lo! the chattel becomes a man. I gaze +around in vain for one who will question my equal humanity, claim me as his +slave, or offer me an insult. I employ a cab—I am seated beside white +people—I reach the hotel—I enter the same door—I am shown +into the same parlor—I dine at the same table and no one is offended. No +delicate nose grows deformed in my presence. I find no difficulty here in +obtaining admission into any place of worship, instruction, or amusement, on +equal terms with people as white as any I ever saw in the United States. I meet +nothing to remind me of my complexion. I find myself regarded and treated at +every turn with the kindness and deference paid to white people. When I go to +church, I am met by no upturned nose and scornful lip to tell me, “<i>We +don’t allow niggers in here</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +I remember, about two years ago, there was in Boston, near the south-west +corner of Boston Common, a menagerie. I had long desired to see such a +collection as I understood was being exhibited there. Never having had an +opportunity while a slave, I resolved to seize this, my first, since my escape. +I went, and as I approached the entrance to gain admission, I was met and told +by the door-keeper, in a harsh and contemptuous tone, “<i>We don’t +allow niggers in here</i>.” I also remember attending a revival meeting +in the Rev. Henry Jackson’s meeting-house, at New Bedford, and going up +the broad aisle to find a seat, I was met by a good deacon, who told me, in a +pious tone, “<i>We don’t allow niggers in here</i>!” Soon +after my arrival in New Bedford, from the south, I had a strong desire to +attend the Lyceum, but was told, “<i>They don’t allow niggers in +here</i>!” While passing from New York to Boston, on the steamer +Massachusetts, on the night of the 9th of December, 1843, when chilled almost +through with the cold, I went into the cabin to get a little warm. I was soon +touched upon the shoulder, and told, “<i>We don’t allow niggers in +here</i>!” On arriving in Boston, from an anti-slavery tour, hungry and +tired, I went into an eating-house, near my friend, Mr. Campbell’s to get +some refreshments. I was met by a lad in a white apron, “<i>We +don’t allow niggers in here</i>!” A week or two before leaving the +United States, I had a meeting appointed at Weymouth, the home of that glorious +band of true abolitionists, the Weston family, and others. On attempting to +take a seat in the omnibus to that place, I was told by the driver (and I never +shall forget his fiendish hate). “<i>I don’t allow niggers in +here</i>!” Thank heaven for the respite I now enjoy! I had been in Dublin +but a few days, when a gentleman of great respectability kindly offered to +conduct me through all the public buildings of that beautiful city; and a +little afterward, I found myself dining with the lord mayor of Dublin. What a +pity there was not some American democratic Christian at the door of his +splendid mansion, to bark out at my approach, “<i>They don’t allow +niggers in here</i>!” The truth is, the people here know nothing of the +republican Negro hate prevalent in our glorious land. They measure and esteem +men according to their moral and intellectual worth, and not according to the +color of their skin. Whatever may be said of the aristocracies here, there is +none based on the color of a man’s skin. This species of aristocracy +belongs preeminently to “the land of the free, and the home of the +brave.” I have never found it abroad, in any but Americans. It sticks to +them wherever they go. They find it almost as hard to get rid of, as to get rid +of their skins. +</p> + +<p> +The second day after my arrival at Liverpool, in company with my friend, +Buffum, and several other friends, I went to Eaton Hall, the residence of the +Marquis of Westminster, one of the most splendid buildings in England. On +approaching the door, I found several of our American passengers, who came out +with us in the “Cambria,” waiting for admission, as but one party +was allowed in the house at a time. We all had to wait till the company within +came out. And of all the faces, expressive of chagrin, those of the Americans +were preeminent. They looked as sour as vinegar, and as bitter as gall, when +they found I was to be admitted on equal terms with themselves. When the door +was opened, I walked in, on an equal footing with my white fellow-citizens, and +from all I could see, I had as much attention paid me by the servants that +showed us through the house, as any with a paler skin. As I walked through the +building, the statuary did not fall down, the pictures did not leap from their +places, the doors did not refuse to open, and the servants did not say, +“<i>We don’t allow niggers in here</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +A happy new-year to you, and all the friends of freedom. +</p> + +<p> +My time and labors, while abroad were divided between England, Ireland, +Scotland, and Wales. Upon this experience alone, I might write a book twice the +size of this, <i>My Bondage and My Freedom</i>. I visited and lectured in +nearly all the large towns and cities in the United Kingdom, and enjoyed many +favorable opportunities for observation and information. But books on England +are abundant, and the public may, therefore, dismiss any fear that I am +meditating another infliction in that line; though, in truth, I should like +much to write a book on those countries, if for nothing else, to make grateful +mention of the many dear friends, whose benevolent actions toward me are +ineffaceably stamped upon my memory, and warmly treasured in my heart. To these +friends I owe my freedom in the United States. On their own motion, without any +solicitation from me (Mrs. Henry Richardson, a clever lady, remarkable for her +devotion to every good work, taking the lead), they raised a fund sufficient to +purchase my freedom, and actually paid it over, and placed the papers <a +href="#linknote-8" name="linknoteref-8"><small>8</small></a> of my manumission +in my hands, before they would tolerate the idea of my returning to this, my +native country. To this commercial transaction I owe my exemption from the +democratic operation of the Fugitive Slave Bill of 1850. But for this, I might +at any time become a victim of this most cruel and scandalous enactment, and be +doomed to end my life, as I began it, a slave. The sum paid for my freedom was +one hundred and fifty pounds sterling. +</p> + +<p> +Some of my uncompromising anti-slavery friends in this country failed to see +the wisdom of this arrangement, and were not pleased that I consented to it, +even by my silence. They thought it a violation of anti-slavery +principles—conceding a right of property in man—and a wasteful +expenditure of money. On the other hand, viewing it simply in the light of a +ransom, or as money extorted by a robber, and my liberty of more value than one +hundred and fifty pounds sterling, I could not see either a violation of the +laws of morality, or those of economy, in the transaction. +</p> + +<p> +It is true, I was not in the possession of my claimants, and could have easily +remained in England, for the same friends who had so generously purchased my +freedom, would have assisted me in establishing myself in that country. To +this, however, I could not consent. I felt that I had a duty to +perform—and that was, to labor and suffer with the oppressed in my native +land. Considering, therefore, all the circumstances—the fugitive slave +bill included—I think the very best thing was done in letting Master Hugh +have the hundred and fifty pounds sterling, and leaving me free to return to my +appropriate field of labor. Had I been a private person, having no other +relations or duties than those of a personal and family nature, I should never +have consented to the payment of so large a sum for the privilege of living +securely under our glorious republican form of government. I could have +remained in England, or have gone to some other country; and perhaps I could +even have lived unobserved in this. But to this I could not consent. I had +already become somewhat notorious, and withal quite as unpopular as notorious; +and I was, therefore, much exposed to arrest and recapture. +</p> + +<p> +The main object to which my labors in Great Britain were directed, was the +concentration of the moral and religious sentiment of its people against +American slavery. England is often charged with having established slavery in +the United States, and if there were no other justification than this, for +appealing to her people to lend their moral aid for the abolition of slavery, I +should be justified. My speeches in Great Britain were wholly extemporaneous, +and I may not always have been so guarded in my expressions, as I otherwise +should have been. I was ten years younger then than now, and only seven years +from slavery. I cannot give the reader a better idea of the nature of my +discourses, than by republishing one of them, delivered in Finsbury chapel, +London, to an audience of about two thousand persons, and which was published +in the <i>London Universe</i>, at the time. <a href="#linknote-9" +name="linknoteref-9"><small>9</small></a> +</p> + +<p> +Those in the United States who may regard this speech as being harsh in its +spirit and unjust in its statements, because delivered before an audience +supposed to be anti-republican in their principles and feelings, may view the +matter differently, when they learn that the case supposed did not exist. It so +happened that the great mass of the people in England who attended and +patronized my anti-slavery meetings, were, in truth, about as good republicans +as the mass of Americans, and with this decided advantage over the +latter—they are lovers of republicanism for all men, for black men as +well as for white men. They are the people who sympathize with Louis Kossuth +and Mazzini, and with the oppressed and enslaved, of every color and nation, +the world over. They constitute the democratic element in British politics, and +are as much opposed to the union of church and state as we, in America, are to +such an union. At the meeting where this speech was delivered, Joseph +Sturge—a world-wide philanthropist, and a member of the society of +Friends—presided, and addressed the meeting. George William Alexander, +another Friend, who has spent more than an Ameriacn(sic) fortune in promoting +the anti-slavery cause in different sections of the world, was on the platform; +and also Dr. Campbell (now of the <i>British Banner</i>) who combines all the +humane tenderness of Melanchthon, with the directness and boldness of Luther. +He is in the very front ranks of non-conformists, and looks with no unfriendly +eye upon America. George Thompson, too, was there; and America will yet own +that he did a true man’s work in relighting the rapidly dying-out fire of +true republicanism in the American heart, and be ashamed of the treatment he +met at her hands. Coming generations in this country will applaud the spirit of +this much abused republican friend of freedom. There were others of note seated +on the platform, who would gladly ingraft upon English institutions all that is +purely republican in the institutions of America. Nothing, therefore, must be +set down against this speech on the score that it was delivered in the presence +of those who cannot appreciate the many excellent things belonging to our +system of government, and with a view to stir up prejudice against republican +institutions. +</p> + +<p> +Again, let it also be remembered—for it is the simple truth—that +neither in this speech, nor in any other which I delivered in England, did I +ever allow myself to address Englishmen as against Americans. I took my stand +on the high ground of human brotherhood, and spoke to Englishmen as men, in +behalf of men. Slavery is a crime, not against Englishmen, but against God, and +all the members of the human family; and it belongs to the whole human family +to seek its suppression. In a letter to Mr. Greeley, of the New York Tribune, +written while abroad, I said: +</p> + +<p> +I am, nevertheless aware that the wisdom of exposing the sins of one nation in +the ear of another, has been seriously questioned by good and clear-sighted +people, both on this and on your side of the Atlantic. And the thought is not +without weight on my own mind. I am satisfied that there are many evils which +can be best removed by confining our efforts to the immediate locality where +such evils exist. This, however, is by no means the case with the system of +slavery. It is such a giant sin—such a monstrous aggregation of +iniquity—so hardening to the human heart—so destructive to the +moral sense, and so well calculated to beget a character, in every one around +it, favorable to its own continuance,—that I feel not only at liberty, +but abundantly justified, in appealing to the whole world to aid in its +removal. +</p> + +<p> +But, even if I had—as has been often charged—labored to bring +American institutions generally into disrepute, and had not confined my labors +strictly within the limits of humanity and morality, I should not have been +without illustrious examples to support me. Driven into semi-exile by civil and +barbarous laws, and by a system which cannot be thought of without a shudder, I +was fully justified in turning, if possible, the tide of the moral universe +against the heaven-daring outrage. +</p> + +<p> +Four circumstances greatly assisted me in getting the question of American +slavery before the British public. First, the mob on board the +“Cambria,” already referred to, which was a sort of national +announcement of my arrival in England. Secondly, the highly reprehensible +course pursued by the Free Church of Scotland, in soliciting, receiving, and +retaining money in its sustentation fund for supporting the gospel in Scotland, +which was evidently the ill-gotten gain of slaveholders and slave-traders. +Third, the great Evangelical Alliance—or rather the attempt to form such +an alliance, which should include slaveholders of a certain +description—added immensely to the interest felt in the slavery question. +About the same time, there was the World’s Temperance Convention, where I +had the misfortune to come in collision with sundry American doctors of +divinity—Dr. Cox among the number—with whom I had a small +controversy. +</p> + +<p> +It has happened to me—as it has happened to most other men engaged in a +good cause—often to be more indebted to my enemies than to my own skill +or to the assistance of my friends, for whatever success has attended my +labors. Great surprise was expressed by American newspapers, north and south, +during my stay in Great Britain, that a person so illiterate and insignificant +as myself could awaken an interest so marked in England. These papers were not +the only parties surprised. I was myself not far behind them in surprise. But +the very contempt and scorn, the systematic and extravagant disparagement of +which I was the object, served, perhaps, to magnify my few merits, and to +render me of some account, whether deserving or not. A man is sometimes made +great, by the greatness of the abuse a portion of mankind may think proper to +heap upon him. Whether I was of as much consequence as the English papers made +me out to be, or not, it was easily seen, in England, that I could not be the +ignorant and worthless creature, some of the American papers would have them +believe I was. Men, in their senses, do not take bowie-knives to kill +mosquitoes, nor pistols to shoot flies; and the American passengers who thought +proper to get up a mob to silence me, on board the “Cambria,” took +the most effective method of telling the British public that I had something to +say. +</p> + +<p> +But to the second circumstance, namely, the position of the Free Church of +Scotland, with the great Doctors Chalmers, Cunningham, and Candlish at its +head. That church, with its leaders, put it out of the power of the Scotch +people to ask the old question, which we in the north have often most wickedly +asked—“<i>What have we to do with slavery</i>?” That church +had taken the price of blood into its treasury, with which to build <i>free</i> +churches, and to pay <i>free</i> church ministers for preaching the gospel; +and, worse still, when honest John Murray, of Bowlien Bay—now gone to his +reward in heaven—with William Smeal, Andrew Paton, Frederick Card, and +other sterling anti-slavery men in Glasgow, denounced the transaction as +disgraceful and shocking to the religious sentiment of Scotland, this church, +through its leading divines, instead of repenting and seeking to mend the +mistake into which it had fallen, made it a flagrant sin, by undertaking to +defend, in the name of God and the bible, the principle not only of taking the +money of slave-dealers to build churches, but of holding fellowship with the +holders and traffickers in human flesh. This, the reader will see, brought up +the whole question of slavery, and opened the way to its full discussion, +without any agency of mine. I have never seen a people more deeply moved than +were the people of Scotland, on this very question. Public meeting succeeded +public meeting. Speech after speech, pamphlet after pamphlet, editorial after +editorial, sermon after sermon, soon lashed the conscientious Scotch people +into a perfect <i>furore</i>. “SEND BACK THE MONEY!” was +indignantly cried out, from Greenock to Edinburgh, and from Edinburgh to +Aberdeen. George Thompson, of London, Henry C. Wright, of the United States, +James N. Buffum, of Lynn, Massachusetts, and myself were on the anti-slavery +side; and Doctors Chalmers, Cunningham, and Candlish on the other. In a +conflict where the latter could have had even the show of right, the truth, in +our hands as against them, must have been driven to the wall; and while I +believe we were able to carry the conscience of the country against the action +of the Free Church, the battle, it must be confessed, was a hard-fought one. +Abler defenders of the doctrine of fellowshiping slaveholders as christians, +have not been met with. In defending this doctrine, it was necessary to deny +that slavery is a sin. If driven from this position, they were compelled to +deny that slaveholders were responsible for the sin; and if driven from both +these positions, they must deny that it is a sin in such a sense, and that +slaveholders are sinners in such a sense, as to make it wrong, in the +circumstances in which they were placed, to recognize them as Christians. Dr. +Cunningham was the most powerful debater on the slavery side of the question; +Mr. Thompson was the ablest on the anti-slavery side. A scene occurred between +these two men, a parallel to which I think I never witnessed before, and I know +I never have since. The scene was caused by a single exclamation on the part of +Mr. Thompson. +</p> + +<p> +The general assembly of the Free Church was in progress at Cannon Mills, +Edinburgh. The building would hold about twenty-five hundred persons; and on +this occasion it was densely packed, notice having been given that Doctors +Cunningham and Candlish would speak, that day, in defense of the relations of +the Free Church of Scotland to slavery in America. Messrs. Thompson, Buffum, +myself, and a few anti-slavery friends, attended, but sat at such a distance, +and in such a position, that, perhaps we were not observed from the platform. +The excitement was intense, having been greatly increased by a series of +meetings held by Messrs. Thompson, Wright, Buffum, and myself, in the most +splendid hall in that most beautiful city, just previous to the meetings of the +general assembly. “SEND BACK THE MONEY!” stared at us from every +street corner; “SEND BACK THE MONEY!” in large capitals, adorned +the broad flags of the pavement; “SEND BACK THE MONEY!” was the +chorus of the popular street songs; “SEND BACK THE MONEY!” was the +heading of leading editorials in the daily newspapers. This day, at Cannon +Mills, the great doctors of the church were to give an answer to this loud and +stern demand. Men of all parties and all sects were most eager to hear. +Something great was expected. The occasion was great, the men great, and great +speeches were expected from them. +</p> + +<p> +In addition to the outside pressure upon Doctors Cunningham and Candlish, there +was wavering in their own ranks. The conscience of the church itself was not at +ease. A dissatisfaction with the position of the church touching slavery, was +sensibly manifest among the members, and something must be done to counteract +this untoward influence. The great Dr. Chalmers was in feeble health, at the +time. His most potent eloquence could not now be summoned to Cannon Mills, as +formerly. He whose voice was able to rend asunder and dash down the granite +walls of the established church of Scotland, and to lead a host in solemn +procession from it, as from a doomed city, was now old and enfeebled. Besides, +he had said his word on this very question; and his word had not silenced the +clamor without, nor stilled the anxious heavings within. The occasion was +momentous, and felt to be so. The church was in a perilous condition. A change +of some sort must take place in her condition, or she must go to pieces. To +stand where she did, was impossible. The whole weight of the matter fell on +Cunningham and Candlish. No shoulders in the church were broader than theirs; +and I must say, badly as I detest the principles laid down and defended by +them, I was compelled to acknowledge the vast mental endowments of the men. +Cunningham rose; and his rising was the signal for almost tumultous applause. +You will say this was scarcely in keeping with the solemnity of the occasion, +but to me it served to increase its grandeur and gravity. The applause, though +tumultuous, was not joyous. It seemed to me, as it thundered up from the vast +audience, like the fall of an immense shaft, flung from shoulders already +galled by its crushing weight. It was like saying, “Doctor, we have borne +this burden long enough, and willingly fling it upon you. Since it was you who +brought it upon us, take it now, and do what you will with it, for we are too +weary to bear it. [“no close”]. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Cunningham proceeded with his speech, abounding in logic, learning, and +eloquence, and apparently bearing down all opposition; but at the +moment—the fatal moment—when he was just bringing all his arguments +to a point, and that point being, that neither Jesus Christ nor his holy +apostles regarded slaveholding as a sin, George Thompson, in a clear, sonorous, +but rebuking voice, broke the deep stillness of the audience, exclaiming, HEAR! +HEAR! HEAR! The effect of this simple and common exclamation is almost +incredible. It was as if a granite wall had been suddenly flung up against the +advancing current of a mighty river. For a moment, speaker and audience were +brought to a dead silence. Both the doctor and his hearers seemed appalled by +the audacity, as well as the fitness of the rebuke. At length a shout went up +to the cry of “<i>Put him out</i>!” Happily, no one attempted to +execute this cowardly order, and the doctor proceeded with his discourse. Not, +however, as before, did the learned doctor proceed. The exclamation of Thompson +must have reechoed itself a thousand times in his memory, during the remainder +of his speech, for the doctor never recovered from the blow. +</p> + +<p> +The deed was done, however; the pillars of the church—<i>the proud, Free +Church of Scotland</i>—were committed and the humility of repentance was +absent. The Free Church held on to the blood-stained money, and continued to +justify itself in its position—and of course to apologize for +slavery—and does so till this day. She lost a glorious opportunity for +giving her voice, her vote, and her example to the cause of humanity; and +to-day she is staggering under the curse of the enslaved, whose blood is in her +skirts. The people of Scotland are, to this day, deeply grieved at the course +pursued by the Free Church, and would hail, as a relief from a deep and +blighting shame, the “sending back the money” to the slaveholders +from whom it was gathered. +</p> + +<p> +One good result followed the conduct of the Free Church; it furnished an +occasion for making the people of Scotland thoroughly acquainted with the +character of slavery, and for arraying against the system the moral and +religious sentiment of that country. Therefore, while we did not succeed in +accomplishing the specific object of our mission, namely—procure the +sending back of the money—we were amply justified by the good which +really did result from our labors. +</p> + +<p> +Next comes the Evangelical Alliance. This was an attempt to form a union of all +evangelical Christians throughout the world. Sixty or seventy American divines +attended, and some of them went there merely to weave a world-wide garment with +which to clothe evangelical slaveholders. Foremost among these divines, was the +Rev. Samuel Hanson Cox, moderator of the New School Presbyterian General +Assembly. He and his friends spared no pains to secure a platform broad enough +to hold American slaveholders, and in this partly succeeded. But the question +of slavery is too large a question to be finally disposed of, even by the +Evangelical Alliance. We appealed from the judgment of the Alliance, to the +judgment of the people of Great Britain, and with the happiest effect. This +controversy with the Alliance might be made the subject of extended remark, but +I must forbear, except to say, that this effort to shield the Christian +character of slaveholders greatly served to open a way to the British ear for +anti-slavery discussion, and that it was well improved. +</p> + +<p> +The fourth and last circumstance that assisted me in getting before the British +public, was an attempt on the part of certain doctors of divinity to silence me +on the platform of the World’s Temperance Convention. Here I was brought +into point blank collison with Rev. Dr. Cox, who made me the subject not only +of bitter remark in the convention, but also of a long denunciatory letter +published in the New York Evangelist and other American papers. I replied to +the doctor as well as I could, and was successful in getting a respectful +hearing before the British public, who are by nature and practice ardent lovers +of fair play, especially in a conflict between the weak and the strong. +</p> + +<p> +Thus did circumstances favor me, and favor the cause of which I strove to be +the advocate. After such distinguished notice, the public in both countries was +compelled to attach some importance to my labors. By the very ill usage I +received at the hands of Dr. Cox and his party, by the mob on board the +“Cambria,” by the attacks made upon me in the American newspapers, +and by the aspersions cast upon me through the organs of the Free Church of +Scotland, I became one of that class of men, who, for the moment, at least, +“have greatness forced upon them.” People became the more anxious +to hear for themselves, and to judge for themselves, of the truth which I had +to unfold. While, therefore, it is by no means easy for a stranger to get +fairly before the British public, it was my lot to accomplish it in the easiest +manner possible. +</p> + +<p> +Having continued in Great Britain and Ireland nearly two years, and being about +to return to America—not as I left it, a slave, but a +freeman—leading friends of the cause of emancipation in that country +intimated their intention to make me a testimonial, not only on grounds of +personal regard to myself, but also to the cause to which they were so ardently +devoted. How far any such thing could have succeeded, I do not know; but many +reasons led me to prefer that my friends should simply give me the means of +obtaining a printing press and printing materials, to enable me to start a +paper, devoted to the interests of my enslaved and oppressed people. I told +them that perhaps the greatest hinderance to the adoption of abolition +principles by the people of the United States, was the low estimate, everywhere +in that country, placed upon the Negro, as a man; that because of his assumed +natural inferiority, people reconciled themselves to his enslavement and +oppression, as things inevitable, if not desirable. The grand thing to be done, +therefore, was to change the estimation in which the colored people of the +United States were held; to remove the prejudice which depreciated and +depressed them; to prove them worthy of a higher consideration; to disprove +their alleged inferiority, and demonstrate their capacity for a more exalted +civilization than slavery and prejudice had assigned to them. I further stated, +that, in my judgment, a tolerably well conducted press, in the hands of persons +of the despised race, by calling out the mental energies of the race itself; by +making them acquainted with their own latent powers; by enkindling among them +the hope that for them there is a future; by developing their moral power; by +combining and reflecting their talents—would prove a most powerful means +of removing prejudice, and of awakening an interest in them. I further informed +them—and at that time the statement was true—that there was not, in +the United States, a single newspaper regularly published by the colored +people; that many attempts had been made to establish such papers; but that, up +to that time, they had all failed. These views I laid before my friends. The +result was, nearly two thousand five hundred dollars were speedily raised +toward starting my paper. For this prompt and generous assistance, rendered +upon my bare suggestion, without any personal efforts on my part, I shall never +cease to feel deeply grateful; and the thought of fulfilling the noble +expectations of the dear friends who gave me this evidence of their confidence, +will never cease to be a motive for persevering exertion. +</p> + +<p> +Proposing to leave England, and turning my face toward America, in the spring +of 1847, I was met, on the threshold, with something which painfully reminded +me of the kind of life which awaited me in my native land. For the first time +in the many months spent abroad, I was met with proscription on account of my +color. A few weeks before departing from England, while in London, I was +careful to purchase a ticket, and secure a berth for returning home, in the +“Cambria”—the steamer in which I left the United +States—paying therefor the round sum of forty pounds and nineteen +shillings sterling. This was first cabin fare. But on going aboard the Cambria, +I found that the Liverpool agent had ordered my berth to be given to another, +and had forbidden my entering the saloon! This contemptible conduct met with +stern rebuke from the British press. For, upon the point of leaving England, I +took occasion to expose the disgusting tyranny, in the columns of the London +<i>Times</i>. That journal, and other leading journals throughout the United +Kingdom, held up the outrage to unmitigated condemnation. So good an +opportunity for calling out a full expression of British sentiment on the +subject, had not before occurred, and it was most fully embraced. The result +was, that Mr. Cunard came out in a letter to the public journals, assuring them +of his regret at the outrage, and promising that the like should never occur +again on board his steamers; and the like, we believe, has never since occurred +on board the steamships of the Cunard line. +</p> + +<p> +It is not very pleasant to be made the subject of such insults; but if all such +necessarily resulted as this one did, I should be very happy to bear, +patiently, many more than I have borne, of the same sort. Albeit, the lash of +proscription, to a man accustomed to equal social position, even for a time, as +I was, has a sting for the soul hardly less severe than that which bites the +flesh and draws the blood from the back of the plantation slave. It was rather +hard, after having enjoyed nearly two years of equal social privileges in +England, often dining with gentlemen of great literary, social, political, and +religious eminence never, during the whole time, having met with a single word, +look, or gesture, which gave me the slightest reason to think my color was an +offense to anybody—now to be cooped up in the stern of the +“Cambria,” and denied the right to enter the saloon, lest my dark +presence should be deemed an offense to some of my democratic +fellow-passengers. The reader will easily imagine what must have been my +feelings. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"></a> +CHAPTER XXV. <i>Various Incidents</i></h2> + +<p class="letter"> +NEWSPAPER ENTERPRISE—UNEXPECTED OPPOSITION—THE OBJECTIONS TO +IT—THEIR PLAUSIBILITY ADMITTED—MOTIVES FOR COMING TO +ROCHESTER—DISCIPLE OF MR. GARRISON—CHANGE OF OPINION—CAUSES +LEADING TO IT—THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE CHANGE—PREJUDICE AGAINST +COLOR—AMUSING CONDESCENSION—“JIM CROW +CARS”—COLLISIONS WITH CONDUCTORS AND BRAKEMEN—TRAINS ORDERED +NOT TO STOP AT LYNN—AMUSING DOMESTIC SCENE—SEPARATE TABLES FOR +MASTER AND MAN—PREJUDICE UNNATURAL—ILLUSTRATIONS—IN HIGH +COMPANY—ELEVATION OF THE FREE PEOPLE OF COLOR—PLEDGE FOR THE +FUTURE. +</p> + +<p> +I have now given the reader an imperfect sketch of nine years’ experience +in freedom—three years as a common laborer on the wharves of New Bedford, +four years as a lecturer in New England, and two years of semi-exile in Great +Britain and Ireland. A single ray of light remains to be flung upon my life +during the last eight years, and my story will be done. +</p> + +<p> +A trial awaited me on my return from England to the United States, for which I +was but very imperfectly prepared. My plans for my then future usefulness as an +anti-slavery advocate were all settled. My friends in England had resolved to +raise a given sum to purchase for me a press and printing materials; and I +already saw myself wielding my pen, as well as my voice, in the great work of +renovating the public mind, and building up a public sentiment which should, at +least, send slavery and oppression to the grave, and restore to “liberty +and the pursuit of happiness” the people with whom I had suffered, both +as a slave and as a freeman. Intimation had reached my friends in Boston of +what I intended to do, before my arrival, and I was prepared to find them +favorably disposed toward my much cherished enterprise. In this I was mistaken. +I found them very earnestly opposed to the idea of my starting a paper, and for +several reasons. First, the paper was not needed; secondly, it would interfere +with my usefulness as a lecturer; thirdly, I was better fitted to speak than to +write; fourthly, the paper could not succeed. This opposition, from a quarter +so highly esteemed, and to which I had been accustomed to look for advice and +direction, caused me not only to hesitate, but inclined me to abandon the +enterprise. All previous attempts to establish such a journal having failed, I +felt that probably I should but add another to the list of failures, and thus +contribute another proof of the mental and moral deficiencies of my race. Very +much that was said to me in respect to my imperfect literary acquirements, I +felt to be most painfully true. The unsuccessful projectors of all the previous +colored newspapers were my superiors in point of education, and if they failed, +how could I hope for success? Yet I did hope for success, and persisted in the +undertaking. Some of my English friends greatly encouraged me to go forward, +and I shall never cease to be grateful for their words of cheer and generous +deeds. +</p> + +<p> +I can easily pardon those who have denounced me as ambitious and presumptuous, +in view of my persistence in this enterprise. I was but nine years from +slavery. In point of mental experience, I was but nine years old. That one, in +such circumstances, should aspire to establish a printing press, among an +educated people, might well be considered, if not ambitious, quite silly. My +American friends looked at me with astonishment! “A wood-sawyer” +offering himself to the public as an editor! A slave, brought up in the very +depths of ignorance, assuming to instruct the highly civilized people of the +north in the principles of liberty, justice, and humanity! The thing looked +absurd. Nevertheless, I persevered. I felt that the want of education, great as +it was, could be overcome by study, and that knowledge would come by +experience; and further (which was perhaps the most controlling consideration). +I thought that an intelligent public, knowing my early history, would easily +pardon a large share of the deficiencies which I was sure that my paper would +exhibit. The most distressing thing, however, was the offense which I was about +to give my Boston friends, by what seemed to them a reckless disregard of their +sage advice. I am not sure that I was not under the influence of something like +a slavish adoration of my Boston friends, and I labored hard to convince them +of the wisdom of my undertaking, but without success. Indeed, I never expect to +succeed, although time has answered all their original objections. The paper +has been successful. It is a large sheet, costing eighty dollars per +week—has three thousand subscribers—has been published regularly +nearly eight years—and bids fair to stand eight years longer. At any +rate, the eight years to come are as full of promise as were the eight that are +past. +</p> + +<p> +It is not to be concealed, however, that the maintenance of such a journal, +under the circumstances, has been a work of much difficulty; and could all the +perplexity, anxiety, and trouble attending it, have been clearly foreseen, I +might have shrunk from the undertaking. As it is, I rejoice in having engaged +in the enterprise, and count it joy to have been able to suffer, in many ways, +for its success, and for the success of the cause to which it has been +faithfully devoted. I look upon the time, money, and labor bestowed upon it, as +being amply rewarded, in the development of my own mental and moral energies, +and in the corresponding development of my deeply injured and oppressed people. +</p> + +<p> +From motives of peace, instead of issuing my paper in Boston, among my New +England friends, I came to Rochester, western New York, among strangers, where +the circulation of my paper could not interfere with the local circulation of +the <i>Liberator</i> and the <i>Standard;</i> for at that time I was, on the +anti-slavery question, a faithful disciple of William Lloyd Garrison, and fully +committed to his doctrine touching the pro-slavery character of the +constitution of the United States, and the <i>non-voting principle</i>, of +which he is the known and distinguished advocate. With Mr. Garrison, I held it +to be the first duty of the non-slaveholding states to dissolve the union with +the slaveholding states; and hence my cry, like his, was, “No union with +slaveholders.” With these views, I came into western New York; and during +the first four years of my labor here, I advocated them with pen and tongue, +according to the best of my ability. +</p> + +<p> +About four years ago, upon a reconsideration of the whole subject, I became +convinced that there was no necessity for dissolving the “union between +the northern and southern states;” that to seek this dissolution was no +part of my duty as an abolitionist; that to abstain from voting, was to refuse +to exercise a legitimate and powerful means for abolishing slavery; and that +the constitution of the United States not only contained no guarantees in favor +of slavery, but, on the contrary, it is, in its letter and spirit, an +anti-slavery instrument, demanding the abolition of slavery as a condition of +its own existence, as the supreme law of the land. +</p> + +<p> +Here was a radical change in my opinions, and in the action logically resulting +from that change. To those with whom I had been in agreement and in sympathy, I +was now in opposition. What they held to be a great and important truth, I now +looked upon as a dangerous error. A very painful, and yet a very natural, thing +now happened. Those who could not see any honest reasons for changing their +views, as I had done, could not easily see any such reasons for my change, and +the common punishment of apostates was mine. +</p> + +<p> +The opinions first entertained were naturally derived and honestly entertained, +and I trust that my present opinions have the same claims to respect. Brought +directly, when I escaped from slavery, into contact with a class of +abolitionists regarding the constitution as a slaveholding instrument, and +finding their views supported by the united and entire history of every +department of the government, it is not strange that I assumed the constitution +to be just what their interpretation made it. I was bound, not only by their +superior knowledge, to take their opinions as the true ones, in respect to the +subject, but also because I had no means of showing their unsoundness. But for +the responsibility of conducting a public journal, and the necessity imposed +upon me of meeting opposite views from abolitionists in this state, I should in +all probability have remained as firm in my disunion views as any other +disciple of William Lloyd Garrison. +</p> + +<p> +My new circumstances compelled me to re-think the whole subject, and to study, +with some care, not only the just and proper rules of legal interpretation, but +the origin, design, nature, rights, powers, and duties of civil government, and +also the relations which human beings sustain to it. By such a course of +thought and reading, I was conducted to the conclusion that the constitution of +the United States—inaugurated “to form a more perfect union, +establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide for the common +defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessing of +liberty”—could not well have been designed at the same time to +maintain and perpetuate a system of rapine and murder, like slavery; +especially, as not one word can be found in the constitution to authorize such +a belief. Then, again, if the declared purposes of an instrument are to govern +the meaning of all its parts and details, as they clearly should, the +constitution of our country is our warrant for the abolition of slavery in +every state in the American Union. I mean, however, not to argue, but simply to +state my views. It would require very many pages of a volume like this, to set +forth the arguments demonstrating the unconstitutionality and the complete +illegality of slavery in our land; and as my experience, and not my arguments, +is within the scope and contemplation of this volume, I omit the latter and +proceed with the former. +</p> + +<p> +I will now ask the kind reader to go back a little in my story, while I bring +up a thread left behind for convenience sake, but which, small as it is, cannot +be properly omitted altogether; and that thread is American prejudice against +color, and its varied illustrations in my own experience. +</p> + +<p> +When I first went among the abolitionists of New England, and began to travel, +I found this prejudice very strong and very annoying. The abolitionists +themselves were not entirely free from it, and I could see that they were nobly +struggling against it. In their eagerness, sometimes, to show their contempt +for the feeling, they proved that they had not entirely recovered from it; +often illustrating the saying, in their conduct, that a man may “stand up +so straight as to lean backward.” When it was said to me, “Mr. +Douglass, I will walk to meeting with you; I am not afraid of a black +man,” I could not help thinking—seeing nothing very frightful in my +appearance—“And why should you be?” The children at the north +had all been educated to believe that if they were bad, the old <i>black</i> +man—not the old <i>devil</i>—would get them; and it was evidence of +some courage, for any so educated to get the better of their fears. +</p> + +<p> +The custom of providing separate cars for the accommodation of colored +travelers, was established on nearly all the railroads of New England, a dozen +years ago. Regarding this custom as fostering the spirit of caste, I made it a +rule to seat myself in the cars for the accommodation of passengers generally. +Thus seated, I was sure to be called upon to betake myself to the “<i>Jim +Crow car</i>.” Refusing to obey, I was often dragged out of my seat, +beaten, and severely bruised, by conductors and brakemen. Attempting to start +from Lynn, one day, for Newburyport, on the Eastern railroad, I went, as my +custom was, into one of the best railroad carriages on the road. The seats were +very luxuriant and beautiful. I was soon waited upon by the conductor, and +ordered out; whereupon I demanded the reason for my invidious removal. After a +good deal of parleying, I was told that it was because I was black. This I +denied, and appealed to the company to sustain my denial; but they were +evidently unwilling to commit themselves, on a point so delicate, and requiring +such nice powers of discrimination, for they remained as dumb as death. I was +soon waited on by half a dozen fellows of the baser sort (just such as would +volunteer to take a bull-dog out of a meeting-house in time of public worship), +and told that I must move out of that seat, and if I did not, they would drag +me out. I refused to move, and they clutched me, head, neck, and shoulders. +But, in anticipation of the stretching to which I was about to be subjected, I +had interwoven myself among the seats. In dragging me out, on this occasion, it +must have cost the company twenty-five or thirty dollars, for I tore up seats +and all. So great was the excitement in Lynn, on the subject, that the +superintendent, Mr. Stephen A. Chase, ordered the trains to run through Lynn +without stopping, while I remained in that town; and this ridiculous farce was +enacted. For several days the trains went dashing through Lynn without +stopping. At the same time that they excluded a free colored man from their +cars, this same company allowed slaves, in company with their masters and +mistresses, to ride unmolested. +</p> + +<p> +After many battles with the railroad conductors, and being roughly handled in +not a few instances, proscription was at last abandoned; and the “Jim +Crow car”—set up for the degradation of colored people—is +nowhere found in New England. This result was not brought about without the +intervention of the people, and the threatened enactment of a law compelling +railroad companies to respect the rights of travelers. Hon. Charles Francis +Adams performed signal service in the Massachusetts legislature, in bringing +this reformation; and to him the colored citizens of that state are deeply +indebted. +</p> + +<p> +Although often annoyed, and sometimes outraged, by this prejudice against +color, I am indebted to it for many passages of quiet amusement. A half-cured +subject of it is sometimes driven into awkward straits, especially if he +happens to get a genuine specimen of the race into his house. +</p> + +<p> +In the summer of 1843, I was traveling and lecturing, in company with William +A. White, Esq., through the state of Indiana. Anti-slavery friends were not +very abundant in Indiana, at that time, and beds were not more plentiful than +friends. We often slept out, in preference to sleeping in the houses, at some +points. At the close of one of our meetings, we were invited home with a +kindly-disposed old farmer, who, in the generous enthusiasm of the moment, +seemed to have forgotten that he had but one spare bed, and that his guests +were an ill-matched pair. All went on pretty well, till near bed time, when +signs of uneasiness began to show themselves, among the unsophisticated sons +and daughters. White is remarkably fine looking, and very evidently a born +gentleman; the idea of putting us in the same bed was hardly to be tolerated; +and yet, there we were, and but the one bed for us, and that, by the way, was +in the same room occupied by the other members of the family. White, as well as +I, perceived the difficulty, for yonder slept the old folks, there the sons, +and a little farther along slept the daughters; and but one other bed remained. +Who should have this bed, was the puzzling question. There was some whispering +between the old folks, some confused looks among the young, as the time for +going to bed approached. After witnessing the confusion as long as I liked, I +relieved the kindly-disposed family by playfully saying, “Friend White, +having got entirely rid of my prejudice against color, I think, as a proof of +it, I must allow you to sleep with me to-night.” White kept up the joke, +by seeming to esteem himself the favored party, and thus the difficulty was +removed. If we went to a hotel, and called for dinner, the landlord was sure to +set one table for White and another for me, always taking him to be master, and +me the servant. Large eyes were generally made when the order was given to +remove the dishes from my table to that of White’s. In those days, it was +thought strange that a white man and a colored man could dine peaceably at the +same table, and in some parts the strangeness of such a sight has not entirely +subsided. +</p> + +<p> +Some people will have it that there is a natural, an inherent, and an +invincible repugnance in the breast of the white race toward dark-colored +people; and some very intelligent colored men think that their proscription is +owing solely to the color which nature has given them. They hold that they are +rated according to their color, and that it is impossible for white people ever +to look upon dark races of men, or men belonging to the African race, with +other than feelings of aversion. My experience, both serious and mirthful, +combats this conclusion. Leaving out of sight, for a moment, grave facts, to +this point, I will state one or two, which illustrate a very interesting +feature of American character as well as American prejudice. Riding from Boston +to Albany, a few years ago, I found myself in a large car, well filled with +passengers. The seat next to me was about the only vacant one. At every +stopping place we took in new passengers, all of whom, on reaching the seat +next to me, cast a disdainful glance upon it, and passed to another car, +leaving me in the full enjoyment of a hole form. For a time, I did not know but +that my riding there was prejudicial to the interest of the railroad company. A +circumstance occurred, however, which gave me an elevated position at once. +Among the passengers on this train was Gov. George N. Briggs. I was not +acquainted with him, and had no idea that I was known to him, however, I was, +for upon observing me, the governor left his place, and making his way toward +me, respectfully asked the privilege of a seat by my side; and upon introducing +himself, we entered into a conversation very pleasant and instructive to me. +The despised seat now became honored. His excellency had removed all the +prejudice against sitting by the side of a Negro; and upon his leaving it, as +he did, on reaching Pittsfield, there were at least one dozen applicants for +the place. The governor had, without changing my skin a single shade, made the +place respectable which before was despicable. +</p> + +<p> +A similar incident happened to me once on the Boston and New Bedford railroad, +and the leading party to it has since been governor of the state of +Massachusetts. I allude to Col. John Henry Clifford. Lest the reader may fancy +I am aiming to elevate myself, by claiming too much intimacy with great men, I +must state that my only acquaintance with Col. Clifford was formed while I was +<i>his hired servant</i>, during the first winter of my escape from slavery. I +owe it him to say, that in that relation I found him always kind and +gentlemanly. But to the incident. I entered a car at Boston, for New Bedford, +which, with the exception of a single seat was full, and found I must occupy +this, or stand up, during the journey. Having no mind to do this, I stepped up +to the man having the next seat, and who had a few parcels on the seat, and +gently asked leave to take a seat by his side. My fellow-passenger gave me a +look made up of reproach and indignation, and asked me why I should come to +that particular seat. I assured him, in the gentlest manner, that of all others +this was the seat for me. Finding that I was actually about to sit down, he +sang out, “O! stop, stop! and let me get out!” Suiting the action +to the word, up the agitated man got, and sauntered to the other end of the +car, and was compelled to stand for most of the way thereafter. Halfway to New +Bedford, or more, Col. Clifford, recognizing me, left his seat, and not having +seen me before since I had ceased to wait on him (in everything except hard +arguments against his pro-slavery position), apparently forgetful of his rank, +manifested, in greeting me, something of the feeling of an old friend. This +demonstration was not lost on the gentleman whose dignity I had, an hour +before, most seriously offended. Col. Clifford was known to be about the most +aristocratic gentleman in Bristol county; and it was evidently thought that I +must be somebody, else I should not have been thus noticed, by a person so +distinguished. Sure enough, after Col. Clifford left me, I found myself +surrounded with friends; and among the number, my offended friend stood +nearest, and with an apology for his rudeness, which I could not resist, +although it was one of the lamest ever offered. With such facts as these before +me—and I have many of them—I am inclined to think that pride and +fashion have much to do with the treatment commonly extended to colored people +in the United States. I once heard a very plain man say (and he was cross-eyed, +and awkwardly flung together in other respects) that he should be a handsome +man when public opinion shall be changed. +</p> + +<p> +Since I have been editing and publishing a journal devoted to the cause of +liberty and progress, I have had my mind more directed to the condition and +circumstances of the free colored people than when I was the agent of an +abolition society. The result has been a corresponding change in the +disposition of my time and labors. I have felt it to be a part of my +mission—under a gracious Providence to impress my sable brothers in this +country with the conviction that, notwithstanding the ten thousand +discouragements and the powerful hinderances, which beset their existence in +this country—notwithstanding the blood-written history of Africa, and her +children, from whom we have descended, or the clouds and darkness (whose +stillness and gloom are made only more awful by wrathful thunder and lightning) +now overshadowing them—progress is yet possible, and bright skies shall +yet shine upon their pathway; and that “Ethiopia shall yet reach forth +her hand unto God.” +</p> + +<p> +Believing that one of the best means of emancipating the slaves of the south is +to improve and elevate the character of the free colored people of the north I +shall labor in the future, as I have labored in the past, to promote the moral, +social, religious, and intellectual elevation of the free colored people; never +forgetting my own humble orgin(sic), nor refusing, while Heaven lends me +ability, to use my voice, my pen, or my vote, to advocate the great and primary +work of the universal and unconditional emancipation of my entire race. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"></a> +RECEPTION SPEECH <a href="#linknote-10" +name="linknoteref-10"><small>10</small></a>. At Finsbury Chapel, Moorfields, +England, May 12,</h2> + +<p> +1846 +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Douglass rose amid loud cheers, and said: I feel exceedingly glad of the +opportunity now afforded me of presenting the claims of my brethren in bonds in +the United States, to so many in London and from various parts of Britain, who +have assembled here on the present occasion. I have nothing to commend me to +your consideration in the way of learning, nothing in the way of education, to +entitle me to your attention; and you are aware that slavery is a very bad +school for rearing teachers of morality and religion. Twenty-one years of my +life have been spent in slavery—personal slavery—surrounded by +degrading influences, such as can exist nowhere beyond the pale of slavery; and +it will not be strange, if under such circumstances, I should betray, in what I +have to say to you, a deficiency of that refinement which is seldom or ever +found, except among persons that have experienced superior advantages to those +which I have enjoyed. But I will take it for granted that you know something +about the degrading influences of slavery, and that you will not expect great +things from me this evening, but simply such facts as I may be able to advance +immediately in connection with my own experience of slavery. +</p> + +<p> +Now, what is this system of slavery? This is the subject of my lecture this +evening—what is the character of this institution? I am about to answer +the inquiry, what is American slavery? I do this the more readily, since I have +found persons in this country who have identified the term slavery with that +which I think it is not, and in some instances, I have feared, in so doing, +have rather (unwittingly, I know) detracted much from the horror with which the +term slavery is contemplated. It is common in this country to distinguish every +bad thing by the name of slavery. Intemperance is slavery; to be deprived of +the right to vote is slavery, says one; to have to work hard is slavery, says +another; and I do not know but that if we should let them go on, they would say +that to eat when we are hungry, to walk when we desire to have exercise, or to +minister to our necessities, or have necessities at all, is slavery. I do not +wish for a moment to detract from the horror with which the evil of +intemperance is contemplated—not at all; nor do I wish to throw the +slightest obstruction in the way of any political freedom that any class of +persons in this country may desire to obtain. But I am here to say that I think +the term slavery is sometimes abused by identifying it with that which it is +not. Slavery in the United States is the granting of that power by which one +man exercises and enforces a right of property in the body and soul of another. +The condition of a slave is simply that of the brute beast. He is a piece of +property—a marketable commodity, in the language of the law, to be bought +or sold at the will and caprice of the master who claims him to be his +property; he is spoken of, thought of, and treated as property. His own good, +his conscience, his intellect, his affections, are all set aside by the master. +The will and the wishes of the master are the law of the slave. He is as much a +piece of property as a horse. If he is fed, he is fed because he is property. +If he is clothed, it is with a view to the increase of his value as property. +Whatever of comfort is necessary to him for his body or soul that is +inconsistent with his being property, is carefully wrested from him, not only +by public opinion, but by the law of the country. He is carefully deprived of +everything that tends in the slightest degree to detract from his value as +property. He is deprived of education. God has given him an intellect; the +slaveholder declares it shall not be cultivated. If his moral perception leads +him in a course contrary to his value as property, the slaveholder declares he +shall not exercise it. The marriage institution cannot exist among slaves, and +one-sixth of the population of democratic America is denied its privileges by +the law of the land. What is to be thought of a nation boasting of its liberty, +boasting of its humanity, boasting of its Christianity, boasting of its love of +justice and purity, and yet having within its own borders three millions of +persons denied by law the right of marriage?—what must be the condition +of that people? I need not lift up the veil by giving you any experience of my +own. Every one that can put two ideas together, must see the most fearful +results from such a state of things as I have just mentioned. If any of these +three millions find for themselves companions, and prove themselves honest, +upright, virtuous persons to each other, yet in these cases—few as I am +bound to confess they are—the virtuous live in constant apprehension of +being torn asunder by the merciless men-stealers that claim them as their +property. This is American slavery; no marriage—no education—the +light of the gospel shut out from the dark mind of the bondman—and he +forbidden by law to learn to read. If a mother shall teach her children to +read, the law in Louisiana proclaims that she may be hanged by the neck. If the +father attempt to give his son a knowledge of letters, he may be punished by +the whip in one instance, and in another be killed, at the discretion of the +court. Three millions of people shut out from the light of knowledge! It is +easy for you to conceive the evil that must result from such a state of things. +</p> + +<p> +I now come to the physical evils of slavery. I do not wish to dwell at length +upon these, but it seems right to speak of them, not so much to influence your +minds on this question, as to let the slaveholders of America know that the +curtain which conceals their crimes is being lifted abroad; that we are opening +the dark cell, and leading the people into the horrible recesses of what they +are pleased to call their domestic institution. We want them to know that a +knowledge of their whippings, their scourgings, their brandings, their +chainings, is not confined to their plantations, but that some Negro of theirs +has broken loose from his chains—has burst through the dark incrustation +of slavery, and is now exposing their deeds of deep damnation to the gaze of +the christian people of England. +</p> + +<p> +The slaveholders resort to all kinds of cruelty. If I were disposed, I have +matter enough to interest you on this question for five or six evenings, but I +will not dwell at length upon these cruelties. Suffice it to say, that all of +the peculiar modes of torture that were resorted to in the West India islands, +are resorted to, I believe, even more frequently, in the United States of +America. Starvation, the bloody whip, the chain, the gag, the thumb-screw, +cat-hauling, the cat-o’-nine-tails, the dungeon, the blood-hound, are all +in requisition to keep the slave in his condition as a slave in the United +States. If any one has a doubt upon this point, I would ask him to read the +chapter on slavery in Dickens’s <i>Notes on America</i>. If any man has a +doubt upon it, I have here the “testimony of a thousand witnesses,” +which I can give at any length, all going to prove the truth of my statement. +The blood-hound is regularly trained in the United States, and advertisements +are to be found in the southern papers of the Union, from persons advertising +themselves as blood-hound trainers, and offering to hunt down slaves at fifteen +dollars a piece, recommending their hounds as the fleetest in the neighborhood, +never known to fail. Advertisements are from time to time inserted, stating +that slaves have escaped with iron collars about their necks, with bands of +iron about their feet, marked with the lash, branded with red-hot irons, the +initials of their master’s name burned into their flesh; and the masters +advertise the fact of their being thus branded with their own signature, +thereby proving to the world, that, however damning it may appear to +non-slavers, such practices are not regarded discreditable among the +slaveholders themselves. Why, I believe if a man should brand his horse in this +country—burn the initials of his name into any of his cattle, and publish +the ferocious deed here—that the united execrations of Christians in +Britain would descend upon him. Yet in the United States, human beings are thus +branded. As Whittier says— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +... Our countrymen in chains,<br/> +The whip on woman’s shrinking flesh,<br/> +Our soil yet reddening with the stains<br/> +Caught from her scourgings warm and fresh. +</p> + +<p> +The slave-dealer boldly publishes his infamous acts to the world. Of all things +that have been said of slavery to which exception has been taken by +slaveholders, this, the charge of cruelty, stands foremost, and yet there is no +charge capable of clearer demonstration, than that of the most barbarous +inhumanity on the part of the slaveholders toward their slaves. And all this is +necessary; it is necessary to resort to these cruelties, in order to <i>make +the slave a slave</i>, and to <i>keep him a slave</i>. Why, my experience all +goes to prove the truth of what you will call a marvelous proposition, that the +better you treat a slave, the more you destroy his value <i>as a slave</i>, and +enhance the probability of his eluding the grasp of the slaveholder; the more +kindly you treat him, the more wretched you make him, while you keep him in the +condition of a slave. My experience, I say, confirms the truth of this +proposition. When I was treated exceedingly ill; when my back was being +scourged daily; when I was whipped within an inch of my life—<i>life</i> +was all I cared for. “Spare my life,” was my continual prayer. When +I was looking for the blow about to be inflicted upon my head, I was not +thinking of my liberty; it was my life. But, as soon as the blow was not to be +feared, then came the longing for liberty. If a slave has a bad master, his +ambition is to get a better; when he gets a better, he aspires to have the +best; and when he gets the best, he aspires to be his own master. But the slave +must be brutalized to keep him as a slave. The slaveholder feels this +necessity. I admit this necessity. If it be right to hold slaves at all, it is +right to hold them in the only way in which they can be held; and this can be +done only by shutting out the light of education from their minds, and +brutalizing their persons. The whip, the chain, the gag, the thumb-screw, the +blood-hound, the stocks, and all the other bloody paraphernalia of the slave +system, are indispensably necessary to the relation of master and slave. The +slave must be subjected to these, or he ceases to be a slave. Let him know that +the whip is burned; that the fetters have been turned to some useful and +profitable employment; that the chain is no longer for his limbs; that the +blood-hound is no longer to be put upon his track; that his master’s +authority over him is no longer to be enforced by taking his life—and +immediately he walks out from the house of bondage and asserts his freedom as a +man. The slaveholder finds it necessary to have these implements to keep the +slave in bondage; finds it necessary to be able to say, “Unless you do so +and so; unless you do as I bid you—I will take away your life!” +</p> + +<p> +Some of the most awful scenes of cruelty are constantly taking place in the +middle states of the Union. We have in those states what are called the +slave-breeding states. Allow me to speak plainly. Although it is harrowing to +your feelings, it is necessary that the facts of the case should be stated. We +have in the United States slave-breeding states. The very state from which the +minister from our court to yours comes, is one of these states—Maryland, +where men, women, and children are reared for the market, just as horses, +sheep, and swine are raised for the market. Slave-rearing is there looked upon +as a legitimate trade; the law sanctions it, public opinion upholds it, the +church does not condemn it. It goes on in all its bloody horrors, sustained by +the auctioneer’s block. If you would see the cruelties of this system, +hear the following narrative. Not long since the following scene occurred. A +slave-woman and a slaveman had united themselves as man and wife in the absence +of any law to protect them as man and wife. They had lived together by the +permission, not by right, of their master, and they had reared a family. The +master found it expedient, and for his interest, to sell them. He did not ask +them their wishes in regard to the matter at all; they were not consulted. The +man and woman were brought to the auctioneer’s block, under the sound of +the hammer. The cry was raised, “Here goes; who bids cash?” Think +of it—a man and wife to be sold! The woman was placed on the +auctioneer’s block; her limbs, as is customary, were brutally exposed to +the purchasers, who examined her with all the freedom with which they would +examine a horse. There stood the husband, powerless; no right to his wife; the +master’s right preeminent. She was sold. He was next brought to the +auctioneer’s block. His eyes followed his wife in the distance; and he +looked beseechingly, imploringly, to the man that had bought his wife, to buy +him also. But he was at length bid off to another person. He was about to be +separated forever from her he loved. No word of his, no work of his, could save +him from this separation. He asked permission of his new master to go and take +the hand of his wife at parting. It was denied him. In the agony of his soul he +rushed from the man who had just bought him, that he might take a farewell of +his wife; but his way was obstructed, he was struck over the head with a loaded +whip, and was held for a moment; but his agony was too great. When he was let +go, he fell a corpse at the feet of his master. His heart was broken. Such +scenes are the everyday fruits of American slavery. Some two years since, the +Hon. Seth. M. Gates, an anti-slavery gentleman of the state of New York, a +representative in the congress of the United States, told me he saw with his +own eyes the following circumstances. In the national District of Columbia, +over which the star-spangled emblem is constantly waving, where orators are +ever holding forth on the subject of American liberty, American democracy, +American republicanism, there are two slave prisons. When going across a +bridge, leading to one of these prisons, he saw a young woman run out, +bare-footed and bare-headed, and with very little clothing on. She was running +with all speed to the bridge he was approaching. His eye was fixed upon her, +and he stopped to see what was the matter. He had not paused long before he saw +three men run out after her. He now knew what the nature of the case was; a +slave escaping from her chains—a young woman, a sister—escaping +from the bondage in which she had been held. She made her way to the bridge, +but had not reached, ere from the Virginia side there came two slaveholders. As +soon as they saw them, her pursuers called out, “Stop her!” True to +their Virginian instincts, they came to the rescue of their brother kidnappers, +across the bridge. The poor girl now saw that there was no chance for her. It +was a trying time. She knew if she went back, she must be a slave +forever—she must be dragged down to the scenes of pollution which the +slaveholders continually provide for most of the poor, sinking, wretched young +women, whom they call their property. She formed her resolution; and just as +those who were about to take her, were going to put hands upon her, to drag her +back, she leaped over the balustrades of the bridge, and down she went to rise +no more. She chose death, rather than to go back into the hands of those +christian slaveholders from whom she had escaped. +</p> + +<p> +Can it be possible that such things as these exist in the United States? Are +not these the exceptions? Are any such scenes as this general? Are not such +deeds condemned by the law and denounced by public opinion? Let me read to you +a few of the laws of the slaveholding states of America. I think no better +exposure of slavery can be made than is made by the laws of the states in which +slavery exists. I prefer reading the laws to making any statement in +confirmation of what I have said myself; for the slaveholders cannot object to +this testimony, since it is the calm, the cool, the deliberate enactment of +their wisest heads, of their most clear-sighted, their own constituted +representatives. “If more than seven slaves together are found in any +road without a white person, twenty lashes a piece; for visiting a plantation +without a written pass, ten lashes; for letting loose a boat from where it is +made fast, thirty-nine lashes for the first offense; and for the second, shall +have cut off from his head one ear; for keeping or carrying a club, thirty-nine +lashes; for having any article for sale, without a ticket from his master, ten +lashes; for traveling in any other than the most usual and accustomed road, +when going alone to any place, forty lashes; for traveling in the night without +a pass, forty lashes.” I am afraid you do not understand the awful +character of these lashes. You must bring it before your mind. A human being in +a perfect state of nudity, tied hand and foot to a stake, and a strong man +standing behind with a heavy whip, knotted at the end, each blow cutting into +the flesh, and leaving the warm blood dripping to the feet; and for these +trifles. “For being found in another person’s negro-quarters, forty +lashes; for hunting with dogs in the woods, thirty lashes; for being on +horseback without the written permission of his master, twenty-five lashes; for +riding or going abroad in the night, or riding horses in the day time, without +leave, a slave may be whipped, cropped, or branded in the cheek with the letter +R. or otherwise punished, such punishment not extending to life, or so as to +render him unfit for labor.” The laws referred to, may be found by +consulting <i>Brevard’s Digest; Haywood’s Manual; Virginia Revised +Code; Prince’s Digest; Missouri Laws; Mississippi Revised Code</i>. A +man, for going to visit his brethren, without the permission of his +master—and in many instances he may not have that permission; his master, +from caprice or other reasons, may not be willing to allow it—may be +caught on his way, dragged to a post, the branding-iron heated, and the name of +his master or the letter R branded into his cheek or on his forehead. They +treat slaves thus, on the principle that they must punish for light offenses, +in order to prevent the commission of larger ones. I wish you to mark that in +the single state of Virginia there are seventy-one crimes for which a colored +man may be executed; while there are only three of these crimes, which, when +committed by a white man, will subject him to that punishment. There are many +of these crimes which if the white man did not commit, he would be regarded as +a scoundrel and a coward. In the state of Maryland, there is a law to this +effect: that if a slave shall strike his master, he may be hanged, his head +severed from his body, his body quartered, and his head and quarters set up in +the most prominent places in the neighborhood. If a colored woman, in the +defense of her own virtue, in defense of her own person, should shield herself +from the brutal attacks of her tyrannical master, or make the slightest +resistance, she may be killed on the spot. No law whatever will bring the +guilty man to justice for the crime. +</p> + +<p> +But you will ask me, can these things be possible in a land professing +Christianity? Yes, they are so; and this is not the worst. No; a darker feature +is yet to be presented than the mere existence of these facts. I have to inform +you that the religion of the southern states, at this time, is the great +supporter, the great sanctioner of the bloody atrocities to which I have +referred. While America is printing tracts and bibles; sending missionaries +abroad to convert the heathen; expending her money in various ways for the +promotion of the gospel in foreign lands—the slave not only lies +forgotten, uncared for, but is trampled under foot by the very churches of the +land. What have we in America? Why, we have slavery made part of the religion +of the land. Yes, the pulpit there stands up as the great defender of this +cursed <i>institution</i>, as it is called. Ministers of religion come forward +and torture the hallowed pages of inspired wisdom to sanction the bloody deed. +They stand forth as the foremost, the strongest defenders of this +“institution.” As a proof of this, I need not do more than state +the general fact, that slavery has existed under the droppings of the sanctuary +of the south for the last two hundred years, and there has not been any war +between the <i>religion</i> and the <i>slavery</i> of the south. Whips, chains, +gags, and thumb-screws have all lain under the droppings of the sanctuary, and +instead of rusting from off the limbs of the bondman, those droppings have +served to preserve them in all their strength. Instead of preaching the gospel +against this tyranny, rebuke, and wrong, ministers of religion have sought, by +all and every means, to throw in the back-ground whatever in the bible could be +construed into opposition to slavery, and to bring forward that which they +could torture into its support. This I conceive to be the darkest feature of +slavery, and the most difficult to attack, because it is identified with +religion, and exposes those who denounce it to the charge of infidelity. Yes, +those with whom I have been laboring, namely, the old organization anti-slavery +society of America, have been again and again stigmatized as infidels, and for +what reason? Why, solely in consequence of the faithfulness of their attacks +upon the slaveholding religion of the southern states, and the northern +religion that sympathizes with it. I have found it difficult to speak on this +matter without persons coming forward and saying, “Douglass, are you not +afraid of injuring the cause of Christ? You do not desire to do so, we know; +but are you not undermining religion?” This has been said to me again and +again, even since I came to this country, but I cannot be induced to leave off +these exposures. I love the religion of our blessed Savior. I love that +religion that comes from above, in the “wisdom of God,” which is +first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and +good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy. I love that religion +that sends its votaries to bind up the wounds of him that has fallen among +thieves. I love that religion that makes it the duty of its disciples to visit +the father less and the widow in their affliction. I love that religion that is +based upon the glorious principle, of love to God and love to man; which makes +its followers do unto others as they themselves would be done by. If you demand +liberty to yourself, it says, grant it to your neighbors. If you claim a right +to think for yourself, it says, allow your neighbors the same right. If you +claim to act for yourself, it says, allow your neighbors the same right. It is +because I love this religion that I hate the slaveholding, the woman-whipping, +the mind-darkening, the soul-destroying religion that exists in the southern +states of America. It is because I regard the one as good, and pure, and holy, +that I cannot but regard the other as bad, corrupt, and wicked. Loving the one +I must hate the other; holding to the one I must reject the other. +</p> + +<p> +I may be asked, why I am so anxious to bring this subject before the British +public—why I do not confine my efforts to the United States? My answer +is, first, that slavery is the common enemy of mankind, and all mankind should +be made acquainted with its abominable character. My next answer is, that the +slave is a man, and, as such, is entitled to your sympathy as a brother. All +the feelings, all the susceptibilities, all the capacities, which you have, he +has. He is a part of the human family. He has been the prey—the common +prey—of Christendom for the last three hundred years, and it is but +right, it is but just, it is but proper, that his wrongs should be known +throughout the world. I have another reason for bringing this matter before the +British public, and it is this: slavery is a system of wrong, so blinding to +all around, so hardening to the heart, so corrupting to the morals, so +deleterious to religion, so sapping to all the principles of justice in its +immediate vicinity, that the community surrounding it lack the moral stamina +necessary to its removal. It is a system of such gigantic evil, so strong, so +overwhelming in its power, that no one nation is equal to its removal. It +requires the humanity of Christianity, the morality of the world to remove it. +Hence, I call upon the people of Britain to look at this matter, and to exert +the influence I am about to show they possess, for the removal of slavery from +America. I can appeal to them, as strongly by their regard for the slaveholder +as for the slave, to labor in this cause. I am here, because you have an +influence on America that no other nation can have. You have been drawn +together by the power of steam to a marvelous extent; the distance between +London and Boston is now reduced to some twelve or fourteen days, so that the +denunciations against slavery, uttered in London this week, may be heard in a +fortnight in the streets of Boston, and reverberating amidst the hills of +Massachusetts. There is nothing said here against slavery that will not be +recorded in the United States. I am here, also, because the slaveholders do not +want me to be here; they would rather that I were not here. I have adopted a +maxim laid down by Napoleon, never to occupy ground which the enemy would like +me to occupy. The slaveholders would much rather have me, if I will denounce +slavery, denounce it in the northern states, where their friends and supporters +are, who will stand by and mob me for denouncing it. They feel something as the +man felt, when he uttered his prayer, in which he made out a most horrible case +for himself, and one of his neighbors touched him and said, “My friend, I +always had the opinion of you that you have now expressed for +yourself—that you are a very great sinner.” Coming from himself, it +was all very well, but coming from a stranger it was rather cutting. The +slaveholders felt that when slavery was denounced among themselves, it was not +so bad; but let one of the slaves get loose, let him summon the people of +Britain, and make known to them the conduct of the slaveholders toward their +slaves, and it cuts them to the quick, and produces a sensation such as would +be produced by nothing else. The power I exert now is something like the power +that is exerted by the man at the end of the lever; my influence now is just in +proportion to the distance that I am from the United States. My exposure of +slavery abroad will tell more upon the hearts and consciences of slaveholders, +than if I was attacking them in America; for almost every paper that I now +receive from the United States, comes teeming with statements about this +fugitive Negro, calling him a “glib-tongued scoundrel,” and saying +that he is running out against the institutions and people of America. I deny +the charge that I am saying a word against the institutions of America, or the +people, as such. What I have to say is against slavery and slaveholders. I feel +at liberty to speak on this subject. I have on my back the marks of the lash; I +have four sisters and one brother now under the galling chain. I feel it my +duty to cry aloud and spare not. I am not averse to having the good opinion of +my fellow creatures. I am not averse to being kindly regarded by all men; but I +am bound, even at the hazard of making a large class of religionists in this +country hate me, oppose me, and malign me as they have done—I am bound by +the prayers, and tears, and entreaties of three millions of kneeling bondsmen, +to have no compromise with men who are in any shape or form connected with the +slaveholders of America. I expose slavery in this country, because to expose it +is to kill it. Slavery is one of those monsters of darkness to whom the light +of truth is death. Expose slavery, and it dies. Light is to slavery what the +heat of the sun is to the root of a tree; it must die under it. All the +slaveholder asks of me is silence. He does not ask me to go abroad and preach +<i>in favor</i> of slavery; he does not ask any one to do that. He would not +say that slavery is a good thing, but the best under the circumstances. The +slaveholders want total darkness on the subject. They want the hatchway shut +down, that the monster may crawl in his den of darkness, crushing human hopes +and happiness, destroying the bondman at will, and having no one to reprove or +rebuke him. Slavery shrinks from the light; it hateth the light, neither cometh +to the light, lest its deeds should be reproved. To tear off the mask from this +abominable system, to expose it to the light of heaven, aye, to the heat of the +sun, that it may burn and wither it out of existence, is my object in coming to +this country. I want the slaveholder surrounded, as by a wall of anti-slavery +fire, so that he may see the condemnation of himself and his system glaring +down in letters of light. I want him to feel that he has no sympathy in +England, Scotland, or Ireland; that he has none in Canada, none in Mexico, none +among the poor wild Indians; that the voice of the civilized, aye, and savage +world is against him. I would have condemnation blaze down upon him in every +direction, till, stunned and overwhelmed with shame and confusion, he is +compelled to let go the grasp he holds upon the persons of his victims, and +restore them to their long-lost rights. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"></a> +Dr. Campbell’s Reply</h2> + +<p> +From Rev. Dr. Campbell’s brilliant reply we extract the following: +FREDERICK DOUGLASS, “the beast of burden,” the portion of +“goods and chattels,” the representative of three millions of men, +has been raised up! Shall I say the <i>man?</i> If there is a man on earth, he +is a man. My blood boiled within me when I heard his address tonight, and +thought that he had left behind him three millions of such men. +</p> + +<p> +We must see more of this man; we must have more of this man. One would have +taken a voyage round the globe some forty years back—especially since the +introduction of steam—to have heard such an exposure of slavery from the +lips of a slave. It will be an era in the individual history of the present +assembly. Our children—our boys and girls—I have tonight seen the +delightful sympathy of their hearts evinced by their heaving breasts, while +their eyes sparkled with wonder and admiration, that this black man—this +slave—had so much logic, so much wit, so much fancy, so much eloquence. +He was something more than a man, according to their little notions. Then, I +say, we must hear him again. We have got a purpose to accomplish. He has +appealed to the pulpit of England. The English pulpit is with him. He has +appealed to the press of England; the press of England is conducted by English +hearts, and that press will do him justice. About ten days hence, and his +second master, who may well prize “such a piece of goods,” will +have the pleasure of reading his burning words, and his first master will bless +himself that he has got quit of him. We have to create public opinion, or +rather, not to create it, for it is created already; but we have to foster it; +and when tonight I heard those magnificent words—the words of Curran, by +which my heart, from boyhood, has ofttimes been deeply moved—I rejoice to +think that they embody an instinct of an Englishman’s nature. I heard, +with inexpressible delight, how they told on this mighty mass of the citizens +of the metropolis. +</p> + +<p> +Britain has now no slaves; we can therefore talk to the other nations now, as +we could not have talked a dozen years ago. I want the whole of the London +ministry to meet Douglass. For as his appeal is to England, and throughout +England, I should rejoice in the idea of churchmen and dissenters merging all +sectional distinctions in this cause. Let us have a public breakfast. Let the +ministers meet him; let them hear him; let them grasp his hand; and let him +enlist their sympathies on behalf of the slave. Let him inspire them with +abhorrence of the man-stealer—the slaveholder. No slaveholding American +shall ever my cross my door. No slaveholding or slavery-supporting minister +shall ever pollute my pulpit. While I have a tongue to speak, or a hand to +write, I will, to the utmost of my power, oppose these slaveholding men. We +must have Douglass amongst us to aid in fostering public opinion. +</p> + +<p> +The great conflict with slavery must now take place in America; and while they +are adding other slave states to the Union, our business is to step forward and +help the abolitionists there. It is a pleasing circumstance that such a body of +men has risen in America, and whilst we hurl our thunders against her slavers, +let us make a distinction between those who advocate slavery and those who +oppose it. George Thompson has been there. This man, Frederick Douglass, has +been there, and has been compelled to flee. I wish, when he first set foot on +our shores, he had made a solemn vow, and said, “Now that I am free, and +in the sanctuary of freedom, I will never return till I have seen the +emancipation of my country completed.” He wants to surround these men, +the slaveholders, as by a wall of fire; and he himself may do much toward +kindling it. Let him travel over the island—east, west, north, and +south—everywhere diffusing knowledge and awakening principle, till the +whole nation become a body of petitioners to America. He will, he must, do it. +He must for a season make England his home. He must send for his wife. He must +send for his children. I want to see the sons and daughters of such a sire. We, +too, must do something for him and them worthy of the English name. I do not +like the idea of a man of such mental dimensions, such moral courage, and all +but incomparable talent, having his own small wants, and the wants of a distant +wife and children, supplied by the poor profits of his publication, the sketch +of his life. Let the pamphlet be bought by tens of thousands. But we will do +something more for him, shall we not? +</p> + +<p> +It only remains that we pass a resolution of thanks to Frederick Douglass, the +slave that was, the man that is! He that was covered with chains, and that is +now being covered with glory, and whom we will send back a gentleman. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"></a> +LETTER TO HIS OLD MASTER. <a href="#linknote-11" +name="linknoteref-11"><small>11</small></a>. To My Old Master, Thomas Auld</h2> + +<p> +SIR—The long and intimate, though by no means friendly, relation which +unhappily subsisted between you and myself, leads me to hope that you will +easily account for the great liberty which I now take in addressing you in this +open and public manner. The same fact may remove any disagreeable surprise +which you may experience on again finding your name coupled with mine, in any +other way than in an advertisement, accurately describing my person, and +offering a large sum for my arrest. In thus dragging you again before the +public, I am aware that I shall subject myself to no inconsiderable amount of +censure. I shall probably be charged with an unwarrantable, if not a wanton and +reckless disregard of the rights and properties of private life. There are +those north as well as south who entertain a much higher respect for rights +which are merely conventional, than they do for rights which are personal and +essential. Not a few there are in our country, who, while they have no scruples +against robbing the laborer of the hard earned results of his patient industry, +will be shocked by the extremely indelicate manner of bringing your name before +the public. Believing this to be the case, and wishing to meet every reasonable +or plausible objection to my conduct, I will frankly state the ground upon +which I justfy(sic) myself in this instance, as well as on former occasions +when I have thought proper to mention your name in public. All will agree that +a man guilty of theft, robbery, or murder, has forfeited the right to +concealment and private life; that the community have a right to subject such +persons to the most complete exposure. However much they may desire retirement, +and aim to conceal themselves and their movements from the popular gaze, the +public have a right to ferret them out, and bring their conduct before the +proper tribunals of the country for investigation. Sir, you will undoubtedly +make the proper application of these generally admitted principles, and will +easily see the light in which you are regarded by me; I will not therefore +manifest ill temper, by calling you hard names. I know you to be a man of some +intelligence, and can readily determine the precise estimate which I entertain +of your character. I may therefore indulge in language which may seem to others +indirect and ambiguous, and yet be quite well understood by yourself. +</p> + +<p> +I have selected this day on which to address you, because it is the anniversary +of my emancipation; and knowing no better way, I am led to this as the best +mode of celebrating that truly important events. Just ten years ago this +beautiful September morning, yon bright sun beheld me a slave—a poor +degraded chattel—trembling at the sound of your voice, lamenting that I +was a man, and wishing myself a brute. The hopes which I had treasured up for +weeks of a safe and successful escape from your grasp, were powerfully +confronted at this last hour by dark clouds of doubt and fear, making my person +shake and my bosom to heave with the heavy contest between hope and fear. I +have no words to describe to you the deep agony of soul which I experienced on +that never-to-be-forgotten morning—for I left by daylight. I was making a +leap in the dark. The probabilities, so far as I could by reason determine +them, were stoutly against the undertaking. The preliminaries and precautions I +had adopted previously, all worked badly. I was like one going to war without +weapons—ten chances of defeat to one of victory. One in whom I had +confided, and one who had promised me assistance, appalled by fear at the trial +hour, deserted me, thus leaving the responsibility of success or failure solely +with myself. You, sir, can never know my feelings. As I look back to them, I +can scarcely realize that I have passed through a scene so trying. Trying, +however, as they were, and gloomy as was the prospect, thanks be to the Most +High, who is ever the God of the oppressed, at the moment which was to +determine my whole earthly career, His grace was sufficient; my mind was made +up. I embraced the golden opportunity, took the morning tide at the flood, and +a free man, young, active, and strong, is the result. +</p> + +<p> +I have often thought I should like to explain to you the grounds upon which I +have justified myself in running away from you. I am almost ashamed to do so +now, for by this time you may have discovered them yourself. I will, however, +glance at them. When yet but a child about six years old, I imbibed the +determination to run away. The very first mental effort that I now remember on +my part, was an attempt to solve the mystery—why am I a slave? and with +this question my youthful mind was troubled for many days, pressing upon me +more heavily at times than others. When I saw the slave-driver whip a +slave-woman, cut the blood out of her neck, and heard her piteous cries, I went +away into the corner of the fence, wept and pondered over the mystery. I had, +through some medium, I know not what, got some idea of God, the Creator of all +mankind, the black and the white, and that he had made the blacks to serve the +whites as slaves. How he could do this and be <i>good</i>, I could not tell. I +was not satisfied with this theory, which made God responsible for slavery, for +it pained me greatly, and I have wept over it long and often. At one time, your +first wife, Mrs. Lucretia, heard me sighing and saw me shedding tears, and +asked of me the matter, but I was afraid to tell her. I was puzzled with this +question, till one night while sitting in the kitchen, I heard some of the old +slaves talking of their parents having been stolen from Africa by white men, +and were sold here as slaves. The whole mystery was solved at once. Very soon +after this, my Aunt Jinny and Uncle Noah ran away, and the great noise made +about it by your father-in-law, made me for the first time acquainted with the +fact, that there were free states as well as slave states. From that time, I +resolved that I would some day run away. The morality of the act I dispose of +as follows: I am myself; you are yourself; we are two distinct persons, equal +persons. What you are, I am. You are a man, and so am I. God created both, and +made us separate beings. I am not by nature bond to you, or you to me. Nature +does not make your existence depend upon me, or mine to depend upon yours. I +cannot walk upon your legs, or you upon mine. I cannot breathe for you, or you +for me; I must breathe for myself, and you for yourself. We are distinct +persons, and are each equally provided with faculties necessary to our +individual existence. In leaving you, I took nothing but what belonged to me, +and in no way lessened your means for obtaining an <i>honest</i> living. Your +faculties remained yours, and mine became useful to their rightful owner. I +therefore see no wrong in any part of the transaction. It is true, I went off +secretly; but that was more your fault than mine. Had I let you into the +secret, you would have defeated the enterprise entirely; but for this, I should +have been really glad to have made you acquainted with my intentions to leave. +</p> + +<p> +You may perhaps want to know how I like my present condition. I am free to say, +I greatly prefer it to that which I occupied in Maryland. I am, however, by no +means prejudiced against the state as such. Its geography, climate, fertility, +and products, are such as to make it a very desirable abode for any man; and +but for the existence of slavery there, it is not impossible that I might again +take up my abode in that state. It is not that I love Maryland less, but +freedom more. You will be surprised to learn that people at the north labor +under the strange delusion that if the slaves were emancipated at the south, +they would flock to the north. So far from this being the case, in that event, +you would see many old and familiar faces back again to the south. The fact is, +there are few here who would not return to the south in the event of +emancipation. We want to live in the land of our birth, and to lay our bones by +the side of our fathers; and nothing short of an intense love of personal +freedom keeps us from the south. For the sake of this, most of us would live on +a crust of bread and a cup of cold water. +</p> + +<p> +Since I left you, I have had a rich experience. I have occupied stations which +I never dreamed of when a slave. Three out of the ten years since I left you, I +spent as a common laborer on the wharves of New Bedford, Massachusetts. It was +there I earned my first free dollar. It was mine. I could spend it as I +pleased. I could buy hams or herring with it, without asking any odds of +anybody. That was a precious dollar to me. You remember when I used to make +seven, or eight, or even nine dollars a week in Baltimore, you would take every +cent of it from me every Saturday night, saying that I belonged to you, and my +earnings also. I never liked this conduct on your part—to say the best, I +thought it a little mean. I would not have served you so. But let that pass. I +was a little awkward about counting money in New England fashion when I first +landed in New Bedford. I came near betraying myself several times. I caught +myself saying phip, for fourpence; and at one time a man actually charged me +with being a runaway, whereupon I was silly enough to become one by running +away from him, for I was greatly afraid he might adopt measures to get me again +into slavery, a condition I then dreaded more than death. +</p> + +<p> +I soon learned, however, to count money, as well as to make it, and got on +swimmingly. I married soon after leaving you; in fact, I was engaged to be +married before I left you; and instead of finding my companion a burden, she +was truly a helpmate. She went to live at service, and I to work on the wharf, +and though we toiled hard the first winter, we never lived more happily. After +remaining in New Bedford for three years, I met with William Lloyd Garrison, a +person of whom you have <i>possibly</i> heard, as he is pretty generally known +among slaveholders. He put it into my head that I might make myself serviceable +to the cause of the slave, by devoting a portion of my time to telling my own +sorrows, and those of other slaves, which had come under my observation. This +was the commencement of a higher state of existence than any to which I had +ever aspired. I was thrown into society the most pure, enlightened, and +benevolent, that the country affords. Among these I have never forgotten you, +but have invariably made you the topic of conversation—thus giving you +all the notoriety I could do. I need not tell you that the opinion formed of +you in these circles is far from being favorable. They have little respect for +your honesty, and less for your religion. +</p> + +<p> +But I was going on to relate to you something of my interesting experience. I +had not long enjoyed the excellent society to which I have referred, before the +light of its excellence exerted a beneficial influence on my mind and heart. +Much of my early dislike of white persons was removed, and their manners, +habits, and customs, so entirely unlike what I had been used to in the +kitchen-quarters on the plantations of the south, fairly charmed me, and gave +me a strong disrelish for the coarse and degrading customs of my former +condition. I therefore made an effort so to improve my mind and deportment, as +to be somewhat fitted to the station to which I seemed almost providentially +called. The transition from degradation to respectability was indeed great, and +to get from one to the other without carrying some marks of one’s former +condition, is truly a difficult matter. I would not have you think that I am +now entirely clear of all plantation peculiarities, but my friends here, while +they entertain the strongest dislike to them, regard me with that charity to +which my past life somewhat entitles me, so that my condition in this respect +is exceedingly pleasant. So far as my domestic affairs are concerned, I can +boast of as comfortable a dwelling as your own. I have an industrious and neat +companion, and four dear children—the oldest a girl of nine years, and +three fine boys, the oldest eight, the next six, and the youngest four years +old. The three oldest are now going regularly to school—two can read and +write, and the other can spell, with tolerable correctness, words of two +syllables. Dear fellows! they are all in comfortable beds, and are sound +asleep, perfectly secure under my own roof. There are no slaveholders here to +rend my heart by snatching them from my arms, or blast a mother’s dearest +hopes by tearing them from her bosom. These dear children are ours—not to +work up into rice, sugar, and tobacco, but to watch over, regard, and protect, +and to rear them up in the nurture and admonition of the gospel—to train +them up in the paths of wisdom and virtue, and, as far as we can, to make them +useful to the world and to themselves. Oh! sir, a slaveholder never appears to +me so completely an agent of hell, as when I think of and look upon my dear +children. It is then that my feelings rise above my control. I meant to have +said more with respect to my own prosperity and happiness, but thoughts and +feelings which this recital has quickened, unfit me to proceed further in that +direction. The grim horrors of slavery rise in all their ghastly terror before +me; the wails of millions pierce my heart and chill my blood. I remember the +chain, the gag, the bloody whip; the death-like gloom overshadowing the broken +spirit of the fettered bondman; the appalling liability of his being torn away +from wife and children, and sold like a beast in the market. Say not that this +is a picture of fancy. You well know that I wear stripes on my back, inflicted +by your direction; and that you, while we were brothers in the same church, +caused this right hand, with which I am now penning this letter, to be closely +tied to my left, and my person dragged, at the pistol’s mouth, fifteen +miles, from the Bay Side to Easton, to be sold like a beast in the market, for +the alleged crime of intending to escape from your possession. All this, and +more, you remember, and know to be perfectly true, not only of yourself, but of +nearly all of the slaveholders around you. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, you are probably the guilty holder of at least three of my own +dear sisters, and my only brother, in bondage. These you regard as your +property. They are recorded on your ledger, or perhaps have been sold to human +flesh-mongers, with a view to filling our own ever-hungry purse. Sir, I desire +to know how and where these dear sisters are. Have you sold them? or are they +still in your possession? What has become of them? are they living or dead? And +my dear old grandmother, whom you turned out like an old horse to die in the +woods—is she still alive? Write and let me know all about them. If my +grandmother be still alive, she is of no service to you, for by this time she +must be nearly eighty years old—too old to be cared for by one to whom +she has ceased to be of service; send her to me at Rochester, or bring her to +Philadelphia, and it shall be the crowning happiness of my life to take care of +her in her old age. Oh! she was to me a mother and a father, so far as hard +toil for my comfort could make her such. Send me my grandmother! that I may +watch over and take care of her in her old age. And my sisters—let me +know all about them. I would write to them, and learn all I want to know of +them, without disturbing you in any way, but that, through your unrighteous +conduct, they have been entirely deprived of the power to read and write. You +have kept them in utter ignorance, and have therefore robbed them of the sweet +enjoyments of writing or receiving letters from absent friends and relatives. +Your wickedness and cruelty, committed in this respect on your +fellow-creatures, are greater than all the stripes you have laid upon my back +or theirs. It is an outrage upon the soul, a war upon the immortal spirit, and +one for which you must give account at the bar of our common Father and +Creator. +</p> + +<p> +The responsibility which you have assumed in this regard is truly awful, and +how you could stagger under it these many years is marvelous. Your mind must +have become darkened, your heart hardened, your conscience seared and +petrified, or you would have long since thrown off the accursed load, and +sought relief at the hands of a sin-forgiving God. How, let me ask, would you +look upon me, were I, some dark night, in company with a band of hardened +villains, to enter the precincts of your elegant dwelling, and seize the person +of your own lovely daughter, Amanda, and carry her off from your family, +friends, and all the loved ones of her youth—make her my +slave—compel her to work, and I take her wages—place her name on my +ledger as property—disregard her personal rights—fetter the powers +of her immortal soul by denying her the right and privilege of learning to read +and write—feed her coarsely—clothe her scantily, and whip her on +the naked back occasionally; more, and still more horrible, leave her +unprotected—a degraded victim to the brutal lust of fiendish overseers, +who would pollute, blight, and blast her fair soul—rob her of all +dignity—destroy her virtue, and annihilate in her person all the graces +that adorn the character of virtuous womanhood? I ask, how would you regard me, +if such were my conduct? Oh! the vocabulary of the damned would not afford a +word sufficiently infernal to express your idea of my God-provoking wickedness. +Yet, sir, your treatment of my beloved sisters is in all essential points +precisely like the case I have now supposed. Damning as would be such a deed on +my part, it would be no more so than that which you have committed against me +and my sisters. +</p> + +<p> +I will now bring this letter to a close; you shall hear from me again unless +you let me hear from you. I intend to make use of you as a weapon with which to +assail the system of slavery—as a means of concentrating public attention +on the system, and deepening the horror of trafficking in the souls and bodies +of men. I shall make use of you as a means of exposing the character of the +American church and clergy—and as a means of bringing this guilty nation, +with yourself, to repentance. In doing this, I entertain no malice toward you +personally. There is no roof under which you would be more safe than mine, and +there is nothing in my house which you might need for your comfort, which I +would not readily grant. Indeed, I should esteem it a privilege to set you an +example as to how mankind ought to treat each other. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I am your fellow-man, but not your slave. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"></a> +THE NATURE OF SLAVERY. Extract from a Lecture on Slavery, at Rochester,</h2> + +<p> +December 1, 1850 +</p> + +<p> +More than twenty years of my life were consumed in a state of slavery. My +childhood was environed by the baneful peculiarities of the slave system. I +grew up to manhood in the presence of this hydra headed monster—not as a +master—not as an idle spectator—not as the guest of the +slaveholder—but as A SLAVE, eating the bread and drinking the cup of +slavery with the most degraded of my brother-bondmen, and sharing with them all +the painful conditions of their wretched lot. In consideration of these facts, +I feel that I have a right to speak, and to speak <i>strongly</i>. Yet, my +friends, I feel bound to speak truly. +</p> + +<p> +Goading as have been the cruelties to which I have been subjected—bitter +as have been the trials through which I have passed—exasperating as have +been, and still are, the indignities offered to my manhood—I find in them +no excuse for the slightest departure from truth in dealing with any branch of +this subject. +</p> + +<p> +First of all, I will state, as well as I can, the legal and social relation of +master and slave. A master is one—to speak in the vocabulary of the +southern states—who claims and exercises a right of property in the +person of a fellow-man. This he does with the force of the law and the sanction +of southern religion. The law gives the master absolute power over the slave. +He may work him, flog him, hire him out, sell him, and, in certain +contingencies, <i>kill</i> him, with perfect impunity. The slave is a human +being, divested of all rights—reduced to the level of a brute—a +mere “chattel” in the eye of the law—placed beyond the circle +of human brotherhood—cut off from his kind—his name, which the +“recording angel” may have enrolled in heaven, among the blest, is +impiously inserted in a <i>master’s ledger</i>, with horses, sheep, and +swine. In law, the slave has no wife, no children, no country, and no home. He +can own nothing, possess nothing, acquire nothing, but what must belong to +another. To eat the fruit of his own toil, to clothe his person with the work +of his own hands, is considered stealing. He toils that another may reap the +fruit; he is industrious that another may live in idleness; he eats unbolted +meal that another may eat the bread of fine flour; he labors in chains at home, +under a burning sun and biting lash, that another may ride in ease and splendor +abroad; he lives in ignorance that another may be educated; he is abused that +another may be exalted; he rests his toil-worn limbs on the cold, damp ground +that another may repose on the softest pillow; he is clad in coarse and +tattered raiment that another may be arrayed in purple and fine linen; he is +sheltered only by the wretched hovel that a master may dwell in a magnificent +mansion; and to this condition he is bound down as by an arm of iron. +</p> + +<p> +From this monstrous relation there springs an unceasing stream of most +revolting cruelties. The very accompaniments of the slave system stamp it as +the offspring of hell itself. To ensure good behavior, the slaveholder relies +on the whip; to induce proper humility, he relies on the whip; to rebuke what +he is pleased to term insolence, he relies on the whip; to supply the place of +wages as an incentive to toil, he relies on the whip; to bind down the spirit +of the slave, to imbrute and destroy his manhood, he relies on the whip, the +chain, the gag, the thumb-screw, the pillory, the bowie knife the pistol, and +the blood-hound. These are the necessary and unvarying accompaniments of the +system. Wherever slavery is found, these horrid instruments are also found. +Whether on the coast of Africa, among the savage tribes, or in South Carolina, +among the refined and civilized, slavery is the same, and its accompaniments +one and the same. It makes no difference whether the slaveholder worships the +God of the Christians, or is a follower of Mahomet, he is the minister of the +same cruelty, and the author of the same misery. <i>Slavery</i> is always +<i>slavery;</i> always the same foul, haggard, and damning scourge, whether +found in the eastern or in the western hemisphere. +</p> + +<p> +There is a still deeper shade to be given to this picture. The physical +cruelties are indeed sufficiently harassing and revolting; but they are as a +few grains of sand on the sea shore, or a few drops of water in the great +ocean, compared with the stupendous wrongs which it inflicts upon the mental, +moral, and religious nature of its hapless victims. It is only when we +contemplate the slave as a moral and intellectual being, that we can adequately +comprehend the unparalleled enormity of slavery, and the intense criminality of +the slaveholder. I have said that the slave was a man. “What a piece of +work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving +how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how +like a God! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals!” +</p> + +<p> +The slave is a man, “the image of God,” but “a little lower +than the angels;” possessing a soul, eternal and indestructible; capable +of endless happiness, or immeasurable woe; a creature of hopes and fears, of +affections and passions, of joys and sorrows, and he is endowed with those +mysterious powers by which man soars above the things of time and sense, and +grasps, with undying tenacity, the elevating and sublimely glorious idea of a +God. It is <i>such</i> a being that is smitten and blasted. The first work of +slavery is to mar and deface those characteristics of its victims which +distinguish <i>men</i> from <i>things</i>, and <i>persons</i> from +<i>property</i>. Its first aim is to destroy all sense of high moral and +religious responsibility. It reduces man to a mere machine. It cuts him off +from his Maker, it hides from him the laws of God, and leaves him to grope his +way from time to eternity in the dark, under the arbitrary and despotic control +of a frail, depraved, and sinful fellow-man. As the serpent-charmer of India is +compelled to extract the deadly teeth of his venomous prey before he is able to +handle him with impunity, so the slaveholder must strike down the conscience of +the slave before he can obtain the entire mastery over his victim. +</p> + +<p> +It is, then, the first business of the enslaver of men to blunt, deaden, and +destroy the central principle of human responsibility. Conscience is, to the +individual soul, and to society, what the law of gravitation is to the +universe. It holds society together; it is the basis of all trust and +confidence; it is the pillar of all moral rectitude. Without it, suspicion +would take the place of trust; vice would be more than a match for virtue; men +would prey upon each other, like the wild beasts of the desert; and earth would +become a <i>hell</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Nor is slavery more adverse to the conscience than it is to the mind. This is +shown by the fact, that in every state of the American Union, where slavery +exists, except the state of Kentucky, there are laws absolutely prohibitory of +education among the slaves. The crime of teaching a slave to read is punishable +with severe fines and imprisonment, and, in some instances, with <i>death +itself</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Nor are the laws respecting this matter a dead letter. Cases may occur in which +they are disregarded, and a few instances may be found where slaves may have +learned to read; but such are isolated cases, and only prove the rule. The +great mass of slaveholders look upon education among the slaves as utterly +subversive of the slave system. I well remember when my mistress first +announced to my master that she had discovered that I could read. His face +colored at once with surprise and chagrin. He said that “I was ruined, +and my value as a slave destroyed; that a slave should know nothing but to obey +his master; that to give a negro an inch would lead him to take an ell; that +having learned how to read, I would soon want to know how to write; and that +by-and-by I would be running away.” I think my audience will bear witness +to the correctness of this philosophy, and to the literal fulfillment of this +prophecy. +</p> + +<p> +It is perfectly well understood at the south, that to educate a slave is to +make him discontened(sic) with slavery, and to invest him with a power which +shall open to him the treasures of freedom; and since the object of the +slaveholder is to maintain complete authority over his slave, his constant +vigilance is exercised to prevent everything which militates against, or +endangers, the stability of his authority. Education being among the menacing +influences, and, perhaps, the most dangerous, is, therefore, the most +cautiously guarded against. +</p> + +<p> +It is true that we do not often hear of the enforcement of the law, punishing +as a crime the teaching of slaves to read, but this is not because of a want of +disposition to enforce it. The true reason or explanation of the matter is +this: there is the greatest unanimity of opinion among the white population in +the south in favor of the policy of keeping the slave in ignorance. There is, +perhaps, another reason why the law against education is so seldom violated. +The slave is too poor to be able to offer a temptation sufficiently strong to +induce a white man to violate it; and it is not to be supposed that in a +community where the moral and religious sentiment is in favor of slavery, many +martyrs will be found sacrificing their liberty and lives by violating those +prohibitory enactments. +</p> + +<p> +As a general rule, then, darkness reigns over the abodes of the enslaved, and +“how great is that darkness!” +</p> + +<p> +We are sometimes told of the contentment of the slaves, and are entertained +with vivid pictures of their happiness. We are told that they often dance and +sing; that their masters frequently give them wherewith to make merry; in fine, +that they have little of which to complain. I admit that the slave does +sometimes sing, dance, and appear to be merry. But what does this prove? It +only proves to my mind, that though slavery is armed with a thousand stings, it +is not able entirely to kill the elastic spirit of the bondman. That spirit +will rise and walk abroad, despite of whips and chains, and extract from the +cup of nature occasional drops of joy and gladness. No thanks to the +slaveholder, nor to slavery, that the vivacious captive may sometimes dance in +his chains; his very mirth in such circumstances stands before God as an +accusing angel against his enslaver. +</p> + +<p> +It is often said, by the opponents of the anti-slavery cause, that the +condition of the people of Ireland is more deplorable than that of the American +slaves. Far be it from me to underrate the sufferings of the Irish people. They +have been long oppressed; and the same heart that prompts me to plead the cause +of the American bondman, makes it impossible for me not to sympathize with the +oppressed of all lands. Yet I must say that there is no analogy between the two +cases. The Irishman is poor, but he is not a slave. He may be in rags, but he +is not a slave. He is still the master of his own body, and can say with the +poet, “The hand of Douglass is his own.” “The world is all +before him, where to choose;” and poor as may be my opinion of the +British parliament, I cannot believe that it will ever sink to such a depth of +infamy as to pass a law for the recapture of fugitive Irishmen! The shame and +scandal of kidnapping will long remain wholly monopolized by the American +congress. The Irishman has not only the liberty to emigrate from his country, +but he has liberty at home. He can write, and speak, and cooperate for the +attainment of his rights and the redress of his wrongs. +</p> + +<p> +The multitude can assemble upon all the green hills and fertile plains of the +Emerald Isle; they can pour out their grievances, and proclaim their wants +without molestation; and the press, that “swift-winged messenger,” +can bear the tidings of their doings to the extreme bounds of the civilized +world. They have their “Conciliation Hall,” on the banks of the +Liffey, their reform clubs, and their newspapers; they pass resolutions, send +forth addresses, and enjoy the right of petition. But how is it with the +American slave? Where may he assemble? Where is his Conciliation Hall? Where +are his newspapers? Where is his right of petition? Where is his freedom of +speech? his liberty of the press? and his right of locomotion? He is said to be +happy; happy men can speak. But ask the slave what is his condition—what +his state of mind—what he thinks of enslavement? and you had as well +address your inquiries to the <i>silent dead</i>. There comes no <i>voice</i> +from the enslaved. We are left to gather his feelings by imagining what ours +would be, were our souls in his soul’s stead. +</p> + +<p> +If there were no other fact descriptive of slavery, than that the slave is +dumb, this alone would be sufficient to mark the slave system as a grand +aggregation of human horrors. +</p> + +<p> +Most who are present, will have observed that leading men in this country have +been putting forth their skill to secure quiet to the nation. A system of +measures to promote this object was adopted a few months ago in congress. The +result of those measures is known. Instead of quiet, they have produced alarm; +instead of peace, they have brought us war; and so it must ever be. +</p> + +<p> +While this nation is guilty of the enslavement of three millions of innocent +men and women, it is as idle to think of having a sound and lasting peace, as +it is to think there is no God to take cognizance of the affairs of men. There +can be no peace to the wicked while slavery continues in the land. It will be +condemned; and while it is condemned there will be agitation. Nature must cease +to be nature; men must become monsters; humanity must be transformed; +Christianity must be exterminated; all ideas of justice and the laws of eternal +goodness must be utterly blotted out from the human soul—ere a system so +foul and infernal can escape condemnation, or this guilty republic can have a +sound, enduring peace. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"></a> +INHUMANITY OF SLAVERY. Extract from A Lecture on Slavery, at Rochester,</h2> + +<p> +December 8, 1850 +</p> + +<p> +The relation of master and slave has been called patriarchal, and only second +in benignity and tenderness to that of the parent and child. This +representation is doubtless believed by many northern people; and this may +account, in part, for the lack of interest which we find among persons whom we +are bound to believe to be honest and humane. What, then, are the facts? Here I +will not quote my own experience in slavery; for this you might call one-sided +testimony. I will not cite the declarations of abolitionists; for these you +might pronounce exaggerations. I will not rely upon advertisements cut from +newspapers; for these you might call isolated cases. But I will refer you to +the laws adopted by the legislatures of the slave states. I give you such +evidence, because it cannot be invalidated nor denied. I hold in my hand sundry +extracts from the slave codes of our country, from which I will quote. * * * +</p> + +<p> +Now, if the foregoing be an indication of kindness, <i>what is cruelty</i>? If +this be parental affection, <i>what is bitter malignity</i>? A more atrocious +and blood-thirsty string of laws could not well be conceived of. And yet I am +bound to say that they fall short of indicating the horrible cruelties +constantly practiced in the slave states. +</p> + +<p> +I admit that there are individual slaveholders less cruel and barbarous than is +allowed by law; but these form the exception. The majority of slaveholders find +it necessary, to insure obedience, at times, to avail themselves of the utmost +extent of the law, and many go beyond it. If kindness were the rule, we should +not see advertisements filling the columns of almost every southern newspaper, +offering large rewards for fugitive slaves, and describing them as being +branded with irons, loaded with chains, and scarred by the whip. One of the +most telling testimonies against the pretended kindness of slaveholders, is the +fact that uncounted numbers of fugitives are now inhabiting the Dismal Swamp, +preferring the untamed wilderness to their cultivated homes—choosing +rather to encounter hunger and thirst, and to roam with the wild beasts of the +forest, running the hazard of being hunted and shot down, than to submit to the +authority of <i>kind</i> masters. +</p> + +<p> +I tell you, my friends, humanity is never driven to such an unnatural course of +life, without great wrong. The slave finds more of the milk of human kindness +in the bosom of the savage Indian, than in the heart of his <i>Christian</i> +master. He leaves the man of the <i>bible</i>, and takes refuge with the man of +the <i>tomahawk</i>. He rushes from the praying slaveholder into the paws of +the bear. He quits the homes of men for the haunts of wolves. He prefers to +encounter a life of trial, however bitter, or death, however terrible, to +dragging out his existence under the dominion of these <i>kind</i> masters. +</p> + +<p> +The apologists for slavery often speak of the abuses of slavery; and they tell +us that they are as much opposed to those abuses as we are; and that they would +go as far to correct those abuses and to ameliorate the condition of the slave +as anybody. The answer to that view is, that slavery is itself an abuse; that +it lives by abuse; and dies by the absence of abuse. Grant that slavery is +right; grant that the relations of master and slave may innocently exist; and +there is not a single outrage which was ever committed against the slave but +what finds an apology in the very necessity of the case. As we said by a +slaveholder (the Rev. A. G. Few) to the Methodist conference, “If the +relation be right, the means to maintain it are also right;” for without +those means slavery could not exist. Remove the dreadful scourge—the +plaited thong—the galling fetter—the accursed chain—and let +the slaveholder rely solely upon moral and religious power, by which to secure +obedience to his orders, and how long do you suppose a slave would remain on +his plantation? The case only needs to be stated; it carries its own refutation +with it. +</p> + +<p> +Absolute and arbitrary power can never be maintained by one man over the body +and soul of another man, without brutal chastisement and enormous cruelty. +</p> + +<p> +To talk of <i>kindness</i> entering into a relation in which one party is +robbed of wife, of children, of his hard earnings, of home, of friends, of +society, of knowledge, and of all that makes this life desirable, is most +absurd, wicked, and preposterous. +</p> + +<p> +I have shown that slavery is wicked—wicked, in that it violates the great +law of liberty, written on every human heart—wicked, in that it violates +the first command of the decalogue—wicked, in that it fosters the most +disgusting licentiousness—wicked, in that it mars and defaces the image +of God by cruel and barbarous inflictions—wicked, in that it contravenes +the laws of eternal justice, and tramples in the dust all the humane and +heavenly precepts of the New Testament. +</p> + +<p> +The evils resulting from this huge system of iniquity are not confined to the +states south of Mason and Dixon’s line. Its noxious influence can easily +be traced throughout our northern borders. It comes even as far north as the +state of New York. Traces of it may be seen even in Rochester; and travelers +have told me it casts its gloomy shadows across the lake, approaching the very +shores of Queen Victoria’s dominions. +</p> + +<p> +The presence of slavery may be explained by—as it is the explanation +of—the mobocratic violence which lately disgraced New York, and which +still more recently disgraced the city of Boston. These violent demonstrations, +these outrageous invasions of human rights, faintly indicate the presence and +power of slavery here. It is a significant fact, that while meetings for almost +any purpose under heaven may be held unmolested in the city of Boston, that in +the same city, a meeting cannot be peaceably held for the purpose of preaching +the doctrine of the American Declaration of Independence, “that all men +are created equal.” The pestiferous breath of slavery taints the whole +moral atmosphere of the north, and enervates the moral energies of the whole +people. +</p> + +<p> +The moment a foreigner ventures upon our soil, and utters a natural repugnance +to oppression, that moment he is made to feel that there is little sympathy in +this land for him. If he were greeted with smiles before, he meets with frowns +now; and it shall go well with him if he be not subjected to that peculiarly +fining method of showing fealty to slavery, the assaults of a mob. +</p> + +<p> +Now, will any man tell me that such a state of things is natural, and that such +conduct on the part of the people of the north, springs from a consciousness of +rectitude? No! every fibre of the human heart unites in detestation of tyranny, +and it is only when the human mind has become familiarized with slavery, is +accustomed to its injustice, and corrupted by its selfishness, that it fails to +record its abhorrence of slavery, and does not exult in the triumphs of +liberty. +</p> + +<p> +The northern people have been long connected with slavery; they have been +linked to a decaying corpse, which has destroyed the moral health. The union of +the government; the union of the north and south, in the political parties; the +union in the religious organizations of the land, have all served to deaden the +moral sense of the northern people, and to impregnate them with sentiments and +ideas forever in conflict with what as a nation we call <i>genius of American +institutions</i>. Rightly viewed, this is an alarming fact, and ought to rally +all that is pure, just, and holy in one determined effort to crush the monster +of corruption, and to scatter “its guilty profits” to the winds. In +a high moral sense, as well as in a national sense, the whole American people +are responsible for slavery, and must share, in its guilt and shame, with the +most obdurate men-stealers of the south. +</p> + +<p> +While slavery exists, and the union of these states endures, every American +citizen must bear the chagrin of hearing his country branded before the world +as a nation of liars and hypocrites; and behold his cherished flag pointed at +with the utmost scorn and derision. Even now an American <i>abroad</i> is +pointed out in the crowd, as coming from a land where men gain their fortunes +by “the blood of souls,” from a land of slave markets, of +blood-hounds, and slave-hunters; and, in some circles, such a man is shunned +altogether, as a moral pest. Is it not time, then, for every American to awake, +and inquire into his duty with respect to this subject? +</p> + +<p> +Wendell Phillips—the eloquent New England orator—on his return from +Europe, in 1842, said, “As I stood upon the shores of Genoa, and saw +floating on the placid waters of the Mediterranean, the beautiful American war +ship Ohio, with her masts tapering proportionately aloft, and an eastern sun +reflecting her noble form upon the sparkling waters, attracting the gaze of the +multitude, my first impulse was of pride, to think myself an American; but when +I thought that the first time that gallant ship would gird on her gorgeous +apparel, and wake from beneath her sides her dormant thunders, it would be in +defense of the African slave trade, I blushed in utter <i>shame</i> for my +country.” +</p> + +<p> +Let me say again, <i>slavery is alike the sin and the shame of the American +people;</i> it is a blot upon the American name, and the only national reproach +which need make an American hang his head in shame, in the presence of +monarchical governments. +</p> + +<p> +With this gigantic evil in the land, we are constantly told to look <i>at +home;</i> if we say ought against crowned heads, we are pointed to our enslaved +millions; if we talk of sending missionaries and bibles abroad, we are pointed +to three millions now lying in worse than heathen darkness; if we express a +word of sympathy for Kossuth and his Hungarian fugitive brethren, we are +pointed to that horrible and hell-black enactment, “the fugitive slave +bill.” +</p> + +<p> +Slavery blunts the edge of all our rebukes of tyranny abroad—the +criticisms that we make upon other nations, only call forth ridicule, contempt, +and scorn. In a word, we are made a reproach and a by-word to a mocking earth, +and we must continue to be so made, so long as slavery continues to pollute our +soil. +</p> + +<p> +We have heard much of late of the virtue of patriotism, the love of country, +&c., and this sentiment, so natural and so strong, has been impiously +appealed to, by all the powers of human selfishness, to cherish the viper which +is stinging our national life away. In its name, we have been called upon to +deepen our infamy before the world, to rivet the fetter more firmly on the +limbs of the enslaved, and to become utterly insensible to the voice of human +woe that is wafted to us on every southern gale. We have been called upon, in +its name, to desecrate our whole land by the footprints of slave-hunters, and +even to engage ourselves in the horrible business of kidnapping. +</p> + +<p> +I, too, would invoke the spirit of patriotism; not in a narrow and restricted +sense, but, I trust, with a broad and manly signification; not to cover up our +national sins, but to inspire us with sincere repentance; not to hide our shame +from the the(sic) world’s gaze, but utterly to abolish the cause of that +shame; not to explain away our gross inconsistencies as a nation, but to remove +the hateful, jarring, and incongruous elements from the land; not to sustain an +egregious wrong, but to unite all our energies in the grand effort to remedy +that wrong. +</p> + +<p> +I would invoke the spirit of patriotism, in the name of the law of the living +God, natural and revealed, and in the full belief that “righteousness +exalteth a nation, while sin is a reproach to any people.” “He that +walketh righteously, and speaketh uprightly; he that despiseth the gain of +oppressions, that shaketh his hands from the holding of bribes, he shall dwell +on high, his place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks, bread shall be +given him, his water shall be sure.” +</p> + +<p> +We have not only heard much lately of patriotism, and of its aid being invoked +on the side of slavery and injustice, but the very prosperity of this people +has been called in to deafen them to the voice of duty, and to lead them onward +in the pathway of sin. Thus has the blessing of God been converted into a +curse. In the spirit of genuine patriotism, I warn the American people, by all +that is just and honorable, to BEWARE! +</p> + +<p> +I warn them that, strong, proud, and prosperous though we be, there is a power +above us that can “bring down high looks; at the breath of whose mouth +our wealth may take wings; and before whom every knee shall bow;” and who +can tell how soon the avenging angel may pass over our land, and the sable +bondmen now in chains, may become the instruments of our nation’s +chastisement! Without appealing to any higher feeling, I would warn the +American people, and the American government, to be wise in their day and +generation. I exhort them to remember the history of other nations; and I +remind them that America cannot always sit “as a queen,” in peace +and repose; that prouder and stronger governments than this have been shattered +by the bolts of a just God; that the time may come when those they now despise +and hate, may be needed; when those whom they now compel by oppression to be +enemies, may be wanted as friends. What has been, may be again. There is a +point beyond which human endurance cannot go. The crushed worm may yet turn +under the heel of the oppressor. I warn them, then, with all solemnity, and in +the name of retributive justice, <i>to look to their ways;</i> for in an evil +hour, those sable arms that have, for the last two centuries, been engaged in +cultivating and adorning the fair fields of our country, may yet become the +instruments of terror, desolation, and death, throughout our borders. +</p> + +<p> +It was the sage of the Old Dominion that said—while speaking of the +possibility of a conflict between the slaves and the +slaveholders—“God has no attribute that could take sides with the +oppressor in such a contest. I tremble for my country when I reflect that God +<i>is just</i>, and that his justice cannot sleep forever.” Such is the +warning voice of Thomas Jefferson; and every day’s experience since its +utterance until now, confirms its wisdom, and commends its truth. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"></a> +WHAT TO THE SLAVE IS THE FOURTH OF JULY?. Extract from an Oration, at</h2> + +<p> +Rochester, July 5, 1852 +</p> + +<p> +Fellow-Citizens—Pardon me, and allow me to ask, why am I called upon to +speak here to-day? What have I, or those I represent, to do with your national +independence? Are the great principles of political freedom and of natural +justice, embodied in that Declaration of Independence, extended to us? and am +I, therefore, called upon to bring our humble offering to the national altar, +and to confess the benefits, and express devout gratitude for the blessings, +resulting from your independence to us? +</p> + +<p> +Would to God, both for your sakes and ours, that an affirmative answer could be +truthfully returned to these questions! Then would my task be light, and my +burden easy and delightful. For who is there so cold that a nation’s +sympathy could not warm him? Who so obdurate and dead to the claims of +gratitude, that would not thankfully acknowledge such priceless benefits? Who +so stolid and selfish, that would not give his voice to swell the hallelujahs +of a nation’s jubilee, when the chains of servitude had been torn from +his limbs? I am not that man. In a case like that, the dumb might eloquently +speak, and the “lame man leap as an hart.” +</p> + +<p> +But, such is not the state of the case. I say it with a sad sense of the +disparity between us. I am not included within the pale of this glorious +anniversary! Your high independence only reveals the immeasurable distance +between us. The blessings in which you this day rejoice, are not enjoyed in +common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity, and independence, +bequeathed by your fathers, is shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that +brought life and healing to you, has brought stripes and death to me. This +Fourth of July is <i>yours</i>, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn. To +drag a man in fetters into the grand illuminated temple of liberty, and call +upon him to join you in joyous anthems, were inhuman mockery and sacrilegious +irony. Do you mean, citizens, to mock me, by asking me to speak to-day? If so, +there is a parallel to your conduct. And let me warn you that it is dangerous +to copy the example of a nation whose crimes, towering up to heaven, were +thrown down by the breath of the Almighty, burying that nation in irrecoverable +ruin! I can to-day take up the plaintive lament of a peeled and woe-smitten +people. +</p> + +<p> +“By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down. Yea! we wept when we +remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For +there, they that carried us away captive, required of us a song; and they who +wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. How +can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? If I forget thee, O +Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let +my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.” +</p> + +<p> +Fellow-citizens, above your national, tumultous joy, I hear the mournful wail +of millions, whose chains, heavy and grievous yesterday, are to-day rendered +more intolerable by the jubilant shouts that reach them. If I do forget, if I +do not faithfully remember those bleeding children of sorrow this day, +“may my right hand forget her cunning, and may my tongue cleave to the +roof of my mouth!” To forget them, to pass lightly over their wrongs, and +to chime in with the popular theme, would be treason most scandalous and +shocking, and would make me a reproach before God and the world. My subject, +then, fellow-citizens, is AMERICAN SLAVERY. I shall see this day and its +popular characteristics from the slave’s point of view. Standing there, +identified with the American bondman, making his wrongs mine, I do not hesitate +to declare, with all my soul, that the character and conduct of this nation +never looked blacker to me than on this Fourth of July. Whether we turn to the +declarations of the past, or to the professions of the present, the conduct of +the nation seems equally hideous and revolting. America is false to the past, +false to the present, and solemnly binds herself to be false to the future. +Standing with God and the crushed and bleeding slave on this occasion, I will, +in the name of humanity which is outraged, in the name of liberty which is +fettered, in the name of the constitution and the bible, which are disregarded +and trampled upon, dare to call in question and to denounce, with all the +emphasis I can command, everything that serves to perpetuate slavery—the +great sin and shame of America! “I will not equivocate; I will not +excuse;” I will use the severest language I can command; and yet not one +word shall escape me that any man, whose judgment is not blinded by prejudice, +or who is not at heart a slaveholder, shall not confess to be right and just. +</p> + +<p> +But I fancy I hear some one of my audience say, it is just in this circumstance +that you and your brother abolitionists fail to make a favorable impression on +the public mind. Would you argue more, and denounce less, would you persuade +more and rebuke less, your cause would be much more likely to succeed. But, I +submit, where all is plain there is nothing to be argued. What point in the +anti-slavery creed would you have me argue? On what branch of the subject do +the people of this country need light? Must I undertake to prove that the slave +is a man? That point is conceded already. Nobody doubts it. The slaveholders +themselves acknowledge it in the enactment of laws for their government. They +acknowledge it when they punish disobedience on the part of the slave. There +are seventy-two crimes in the state of Virginia, which, if committed by a black +man (no matter how ignorant he be), subject him to the punishment of death; +while only two of these same crimes will subject a white man to the like +punishment. What is this but the acknowledgement that the slave is a moral, +intellectual, and responsible being. The manhood of the slave is conceded. It +is admitted in the fact that southern statute books are covered with enactments +forbidding, under severe fines and penalties, the teaching of the slave to read +or write. When you can point to any such laws, in reference to the beasts of +the field, then I may consent to argue the manhood of the slave. When the dogs +in your streets, when the fowls of the air, when the cattle on your hills, when +the fish of the sea, and the reptiles that crawl, shall be unable to +distinguish the slave from a brute, then will I argue with you that the slave +is a man! +</p> + +<p> +For the present, it is enough to affirm the equal manhood of the Negro race. Is +it not astonishing that, while we are plowing, planting, and reaping, using all +kinds of mechanical tools, erecting houses, constructing bridges, building +ships, working in metals of brass, iron, copper, silver, and gold; that, while +we are reading, writing, and cyphering, acting as clerks, merchants, and +secretaries, having among us lawyers, doctors, ministers, poets, authors, +editors, orators, and teachers; that, while we are engaged in all manner of +enterprises common to other men—digging gold in California, capturing the +whale in the Pacific, feeding sheep and cattle on the hillside, living, moving, +acting, thinking, planning, living in families as husbands, wives, and +children, and, above all, confessing and worshiping the Christian’s God, +and looking hopefully for life and immortality beyond the grave—we are +called upon to prove that we are men! +</p> + +<p> +Would you have me argue that man is entitled to liberty? that he is the +rightful owner of his own body? You have already declared it. Must I argue the +wrongfulness of slavery? Is that a question for republicans? Is it to be +settled by the rules of logic and argumentation, as a matter beset with great +difficulty, involving a doubtful application of the principle of justice, hard +to be understood? How should I look to-day in the presence of Americans, +dividing and subdividing a discourse, to show that men have a natural right to +freedom, speaking of it relatively and positively, negatively and +affirmatively? To do so, would be to make myself ridiculous, and to offer an +insult to your understanding. There is not a man beneath the canopy of heaven +that does not know that slavery is wrong for <i>him</i>. +</p> + +<p> +What! am I to argue that it is wrong to make men brutes, to rob them of their +liberty, to work them without wages, to keep them ignorant of their relations +to their fellow-men, to beat them with sticks, to flay their flesh with the +lash, to load their limbs with irons, to hunt them with dogs, to sell them at +auction, to sunder their families, to knock out their teeth, to burn their +flesh, to starve them into obedience and submission to their masters? Must I +argue that a system, thus marked with blood and stained with pollution, is +wrong? No; I will not. I have better employment for my time and strength than +such arguments would imply. +</p> + +<p> +What, then, remains to be argued? Is it that slavery is not divine; that God +did not establish it; that our doctors of divinity are mistaken? There is +blasphemy in the thought. That which is inhuman cannot be divine. Who can +reason on such a proposition! They that can, may! I cannot. The time for such +argument is past. +</p> + +<p> +At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed. Oh! +had I the ability, and could I reach the nation’s ear, I would to-day +pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering +sarcasm, and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is +not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the +earthquake. The feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the +nation must be roused; the propriety of the nation must be startled; the +hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and its crimes against God and man +must be proclaimed and denounced. +</p> + +<p> +What to the American slave is your Fourth of July? I answer, a day that reveals +to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty +to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your +boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; +your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciations of +tyrants, brass-fronted impudence; your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow +mockery; your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your +religious parade and solemnity, are to him mere bombast, fraud, deception, +impiety, and hypocrisy—a thin veil to cover up crimes which would +disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation on the earth guilty of +practices more shocking and bloody, than are the people of these United States, +at this very hour. +</p> + +<p> +Go where you may, search where you will, roam through all the monarchies and +despotisms of the old world, travel through South America, search out every +abuse, and when you have found the last, lay your facts by the side of the +every-day practices of this nation, and you will say with me, that, for +revolting barbarity and shameless hypocrisy, America reigns without a rival. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"></a> +THE INTERNAL SLAVE TRADE. Extract from an Oration, at Rochester, July</h2> + +<p> +5, 1852 +</p> + +<p> +Take the American slave trade, which, we are told by the papers, is especially +prosperous just now. Ex-senator Benton tells us that the price of men was never +higher than now. He mentions the fact to show that slavery is in no danger. +This trade is one of the peculiarities of American institutions. It is carried +on in all the large towns and cities in one-half of this confederacy; and +millions are pocketed every year by dealers in this horrid traffic. In several +states this trade is a chief source of wealth. It is called (in +contradistinction to the foreign slave trade) <i>“the internal slave +trade</i>.” It is, probably, called so, too, in order to divert from it +the horror with which the foreign slave trade is contemplated. That trade has +long since been denounced by this government as piracy. It has been denounced +with burning words, from the high places of the nation, as an execrable +traffic. To arrest it, to put an end to it, this nation keeps a squadron, at +immense cost, on the coast of Africa. Everywhere in this country, it is safe to +speak of this foreign slave trade as a most inhuman traffic, opposed alike to +the laws of God and of man. The duty to extirpate and destroy it is admitted +even by our <i>doctors of divinity</i>. In order to put an end to it, some of +these last have consented that their colored brethren (nominally free) should +leave this country, and establish themselves on the western coast of Africa. It +is, however, a notable fact, that, while so much execration is poured out by +Americans, upon those engaged in the foreign slave trade, the men engaged in +the slave trade between the states pass without condemnation, and their +business is deemed honorable. +</p> + +<p> +Behold the practical operation of this internal slave trade—the American +slave trade sustained by American politics and American religion! Here you will +see men and women reared like swine for the market. You know what is a +swine-drover? I will show you a man-drover. They inhabit all our southern +states. They perambulate the country, and crowd the highways of the nation with +droves of human stock. You will see one of these human-flesh-jobbers, armed +with pistol, whip, and bowie-knife, driving a company of a hundred men, women, +and children, from the Potomac to the slave market at New Orleans. These +wretched people are to be sold singly, or in lots, to suit purchasers. They are +food for the cotton-field and the deadly sugar-mill. Mark the sad procession as +it moves wearily along, and the inhuman wretch who drives them. Hear his savage +yells and his blood-chilling oaths, as he hurries on his affrighted captives. +There, see the old man, with locks thinned and gray. Cast one glance, if you +please, upon that young mother, whose shoulders are bare to the scorching sun, +her briny tears falling on the brow of the babe in her arms. See, too, that +girl of thirteen, weeping, yes, weeping, as she thinks of the mother from whom +she has been torn. The drove moves tardily. Heat and sorrow have nearly +consumed their strength. Suddenly you hear a quick snap, like the discharge of +a rifle; the fetters clank, and the chain rattles simultaneously; your ears are +saluted with a scream that seems to have torn its way to the center of your +soul. The crack you heard was the sound of the slave whip; the scream you heard +was from the woman you saw with the babe. Her speed had faltered under the +weight of her child and her chains; that gash on her shoulder tells her to move +on. Follow this drove to New Orleans. Attend the auction; see men examined like +horses; see the forms of women rudely and brutally exposed to the shocking gaze +of American slave-buyers. See this drove sold and separated forever; and never +forget the deep, sad sobs that arose from that scattered multitude. Tell me, +citizens, where, under the sun, can you witness a spectacle more fiendish and +shocking. Yet this is but a glance at the American slave trade, as it exists at +this moment, in the ruling part of the United States. +</p> + +<p> +I was born amid such sights and scenes. To me the American slave trade is a +terrible reality. When a child, my soul was often pierced with a sense of its +horrors. I lived on Philpot street, Fell’s Point, Baltimore, and have +watched from the wharves the slave ships in the basin, anchored from the shore, +with their cargoes of human flesh, waiting for favorable winds to waft them +down the Chesapeake. There was, at that time, a grand slave mart kept at the +head of Pratt street, by Austin Woldfolk. His agents were sent into every town +and county in Maryland, announcing their arrival through the papers, and on +flaming hand-bills, headed, “cash for negroes.” These men were +generally well dressed, and very captivating in their manners; ever ready to +drink, to treat, and to gamble. The fate of many a slave has depended upon the +turn of a single card; and many a child has been snatched from the arms of its +mothers by bargains arranged in a state of brutal drunkenness. +</p> + +<p> +The flesh-mongers gather up their victims by dozens, and drive them, chained, +to the general depot at Baltimore. When a sufficient number have been collected +here, a ship is chartered, for the purpose of conveying the forlorn crew to +Mobile or to New Orleans. From the slave-prison to the ship, they are usually +driven in the darkness of night; for since the anti-slavery agitation a certain +caution is observed. +</p> + +<p> +In the deep, still darkness of midnight, I have been often aroused by the dead, +heavy footsteps and the piteous cries of the chained gangs that passed our +door. The anguish of my boyish heart was intense; and I was often consoled, +when speaking to my mistress in the morning, to hear her say that the custom +was very wicked; that she hated to hear the rattle of the chains, and the +heart-rending cries. I was glad to find one who sympathized with me in my +horror. +</p> + +<p> +Fellow citizens, this murderous traffic is to-day in active operation in this +boasted republic. In the solitude of my spirit, I see clouds of dust raised on +the highways of the south; I see the bleeding footsteps; I hear the doleful +wail of fettered humanity, on the way to the slave markets, where the victims +are to be sold like horses, sheep, and swine, knocked off to the highest +bidder. There I see the tenderest ties ruthlessly broken, to gratify the lust, +caprice, and rapacity of the buyers and sellers of men. My soul sickens at the +sight. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Is this the land your fathers loved?<br/> +Â Â Â Â The freedom which they toiled to win?<br/> +Is this the earth whereon they moved?<br/> +Â Â Â Â Are these the graves they slumber in? +</p> + +<p> +But a still more inhuman, disgraceful, and scandalous state of things remains +to be presented. By an act of the American congress, not yet two years old, +slavery has been nationalized in its most horrible and revolting form. By that +act, Mason and Dixon’s line has been obliterated; New York has become as +Virginia; and the power to hold, hunt, and sell men, women, and children as +slaves, remains no longer a mere state institution, but is now an institution +of the whole United States. The power is coextensive with the star-spangled +banner and American christianity. Where these go, may also go the merciless +slave-hunter. Where these are, man is not sacred. He is a bird for the +sportsman’s gun. By that most foul and fiendish of all human decrees, the +liberty and person of every man are put in peril. Your broad republican domain +is a hunting-ground for <i>men</i>. Not for thieves and robbers, enemies of +society, merely, but for men guilty of no crime. Your law-makers have commanded +all good citizens to engage in this hellish sport. Your president, your +secretary of state, your lords, nobles, and ecclesiastics, enforce as a duty +you owe to your free and glorious country and to your God, that you do this +accursed thing. Not fewer than forty Americans have within the past two years +been hunted down, and without a moment’s warning, hurried away in chains, +and consigned to slavery and excruciating torture. Some of these have had wives +and children dependent on them for bread; but of this no account was made. The +right of the hunter to his prey, stands superior to the right of marriage, and +to <i>all</i> rights in this republic, the rights of God included! For black +men there are neither law, justice, humanity, nor religion. The fugitive slave +law makes MERCY TO THEM A CRIME; and bribes the judge who tries them. An +American judge GETS TEN DOLLARS FOR EVERY VICTIM HE CONSIGNS to slavery, and +five, when he fails to do so. The oath of an(sic) two villains is sufficient, +under this hell-black enactment, to send the most pious and exemplary black man +into the remorseless jaws of slavery! His own testimony is nothing. He can +bring no witnesses for himself. The minister of American justice is bound by +the law to hear but <i>one side</i>, and that side is the side of the +oppressor. Let this damning fact be perpetually told. Let it be thundered +around the world, that, in tyrant-killing, king hating, people-loving, +democratic, Christian America, the seats of justice are filled with judges, who +hold their office under an open and palpable <i>bribe</i>, and are bound, in +deciding in the case of a man’s liberty, <i>to hear only his +accusers!</i> +</p> + +<p> +In glaring violation of justice, in shameless disregard of the forms of +administering law, in cunning arrangement to entrap the defenseless, and in +diabolical intent, this fugitive slave law stands alone in the annals of +tyrannical legislation. I doubt if there be another nation on the globe having +the brass and the baseness to put such a law on the statute-book. If any man in +this assembly thinks differently from me in this matter, and feels able to +disprove my statements, I will gladly confront him at any suitable time and +place he may select. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"></a> +THE SLAVERY PARTY. Extract from a Speech Delivered before the A. A. S.</h2> + +<p> +Society, in New York, May, 1853. +</p> + +<p> +Sir, it is evident that there is in this country a purely slavery party—a +party which exists for no other earthly purpose but to promote the interests of +slavery. The presence of this party is felt everywhere in the republic. It is +known by no particular name, and has assumed no definite shape; but its +branches reach far and wide in the church and in the state. This shapeless and +nameless party is not intangible in other and more important respects. That +party, sir, has determined upon a fixed, definite, and comprehensive policy +toward the whole colored population of the United States. What that policy is, +it becomes us as abolitionists, and especially does it become the colored +people themselves, to consider and to understand fully. We ought to know who +our enemies are, where they are, and what are their objects and measures. Well, +sir, here is my version of it—not original with me—but mine because +I hold it to be true. +</p> + +<p> +I understand this policy to comprehend five cardinal objects. They are these: +1st. The complete suppression of all anti-slavery discussion. 2d. The +expatriation of the entire free people of color from the United States. 3d. The +unending perpetuation of slavery in this republic. 4th. The nationalization of +slavery to the extent of making slavery respected in every state of the Union. +5th. The extension of slavery over Mexico and the entire South American states. +</p> + +<p> +Sir, these objects are forcibly presented to us in the stern logic of passing +events; in the facts which are and have been passing around us during the last +three years. The country has been and is now dividing on these grand issues. In +their magnitude, these issues cast all others into the shade, depriving them of +all life and vitality. Old party ties are broken. Like is finding its like on +either side of these great issues, and the great battle is at hand. For the +present, the best representative of the slavery party in politics is the +democratic party. Its great head for the present is President Pierce, whose +boast it was, before his election, that his whole life had been consistent with +the interests of slavery, that he is above reproach on that score. In his +inaugural address, he reassures the south on this point. Well, the head of the +slave power being in power, it is natural that the pro slavery elements should +cluster around the administration, and this is rapidly being done. A +fraternization is going on. The stringent protectionists and the free-traders +strike hands. The supporters of Fillmore are becoming the supporters of Pierce. +The silver-gray whig shakes hands with the hunker democrat; the former only +differing from the latter in name. They are of one heart, one mind, and the +union is natural and perhaps inevitable. Both hate Negroes; both hate progress; +both hate the “higher law;” both hate William H. Seward; both hate +the free democratic party; and upon this hateful basis they are forming a union +of hatred. “Pilate and Herod are thus made friends.” Even the +central organ of the whig party is extending its beggar hand for a morsel from +the table of slavery democracy, and when spurned from the feast by the more +deserving, it pockets the insult; when kicked on one side it turns the other, +and preseveres in its importunities. The fact is, that paper comprehends the +demands of the times; it understands the age and its issues; it wisely sees +that slavery and freedom are the great antagonistic forces in the country, and +it goes to its own side. Silver grays and hunkers all understand this. They +are, therefore, rapidly sinking all other questions to nothing, compared with +the increasing demands of slavery. They are collecting, arranging, and +consolidating their forces for the accomplishment of their appointed work. +</p> + +<p> +The keystone to the arch of this grand union of the slavery party of the United +States, is the compromise of 1850. In that compromise we have all the objects +of our slaveholding policy specified. It is, sir, favorable to this view of the +designs of the slave power, that both the whig and the democratic party bent +lower, sunk deeper, and strained harder, in their conventions, preparatory to +the late presidential election, to meet the demands of the slavery party than +at any previous time in their history. Never did parties come before the +northern people with propositions of such undisguised contempt for the moral +sentiment and the religious ideas of that people. They virtually asked them to +unite in a war upon free speech, and upon conscience, and to drive the Almighty +presence from the councils of the nation. Resting their platforms upon the +fugitive slave bill, they boldly asked the people for political power to +execute the horrible and hell-black provisions of that bill. The history of +that election reveals, with great clearness, the extent to which slavery has +shot its leprous distillment through the life-blood of the nation. The party +most thoroughly opposed to the cause of justice and humanity, triumphed; while +the party suspected of a leaning toward liberty, was overwhelmingly defeated, +some say annihilated. +</p> + +<p> +But here is a still more important fact, illustrating the designs of the slave +power. It is a fact full of meaning, that no sooner did the democratic slavery +party come into power, than a system of legislation was presented to the +legislatures of the northern states, designed to put the states in harmony with +the fugitive slave law, and the malignant bearing of the national government +toward the colored inhabitants of the country. This whole movement on the part +of the states, bears the evidence of having one origin, emanating from one +head, and urged forward by one power. It was simultaneous, uniform, and +general, and looked to one end. It was intended to put thorns under feet +already bleeding; to crush a people already bowed down; to enslave a people +already but half free; in a word, it was intended to discourage, dishearten, +and drive the free colored people out of the country. In looking at the recent +black law of Illinois, one is struck dumb with its enormity. It would seem that +the men who enacted that law, had not only banished from their minds all sense +of justice, but all sense of shame. It coolly proposes to sell the bodies and +souls of the blacks to increase the intelligence and refinement of the whites; +to rob every black stranger who ventures among them, to increase their literary +fund. +</p> + +<p> +While this is going on in the states, a pro-slavery, political board of health +is established at Washington. Senators Hale, Chase, and Sumner are robbed of a +part of their senatorial dignity and consequence as representing sovereign +states, because they have refused to be inoculated with the slavery virus. +Among the services which a senator is expected by his state to perform, are +many that can only be done efficiently on committees; and, in saying to these +honorable senators, you shall not serve on the committees of this body, the +slavery party took the responsibility of robbing and insulting the states that +sent them. It is an attempt at Washington to decide for the states who shall be +sent to the senate. Sir, it strikes me that this aggression on the part of the +slave power did not meet at the hands of the proscribed senators the rebuke +which we had a right to expect would be administered. It seems to me that an +opportunity was lost, that the great principle of senatorial equality was left +undefended, at a time when its vindication was sternly demanded. But it is not +to the purpose of my present statement to criticise the conduct of our friends. +I am persuaded that much ought to be left to the discretion of anti slavery men +in congress, and charges of recreancy should never be made but on the most +sufficient grounds. For, of all the places in the world where an anti-slavery +man needs the confidence and encouragement of friends, I take Washington to be +that place. +</p> + +<p> +Let me now call attention to the social influences which are operating and +cooperating with the slavery party of the country, designed to contribute to +one or all of the grand objects aimed at by that party. We see here the black +man attacked in his vital interests; prejudice and hate are excited against +him; enmity is stirred up between him and other laborers. The Irish people, +warm-hearted, generous, and sympathizing with the oppressed everywhere, when +they stand upon their own green island, are instantly taught, on arriving in +this Christian country, to hate and despise the colored people. They are taught +to believe that we eat the bread which of right belongs to them. The cruel lie +is told the Irish, that our adversity is essential to their prosperity. Sir, +the Irish-American will find out his mistake one day. He will find that in +assuming our avocation he also has assumed our degradation. But for the present +we are sufferers. The old employments by which we have heretofore gained our +livelihood, are gradually, and it may be inevitably, passing into other hands. +Every hour sees us elbowed out of some employment to make room perhaps for some +newly-arrived emigrants, whose hunger and color are thought to give them a +title to especial favor. White men are becoming house-servants, cooks, and +stewards, common laborers, and flunkeys to our gentry, and, for aught I see, +they adjust themselves to their stations with all becoming obsequiousness. This +fact proves that if we cannot rise to the whites, the whites can fall to us. +Now, sir, look once more. While the colored people are thus elbowed out of +employment; while the enmity of emigrants is being excited against us; while +state after state enacts laws against us; while we are hunted down, like wild +game, and oppressed with a general feeling of insecurity—the American +colonization society—that old offender against the best interests and +slanderer of the colored people—awakens to new life, and vigorously +presses its scheme upon the consideration of the people and the government. New +papers are started—some for the north and some for the south—and +each in its tone adapting itself to its latitude. Government, state and +national, is called upon for appropriations to enable the society to send us +out of the country by steam! They want steamers to carry letters and Negroes to +Africa. Evidently, this society looks upon our “extremity as its +opportunity,” and we may expect that it will use the occasion well. They +do not deplore, but glory, in our misfortunes. +</p> + +<p> +But, sir, I must hasten. I have thus briefly given my view of one aspect of the +present condition and future prospects of the colored people of the United +States. And what I have said is far from encouraging to my afflicted people. I +have seen the cloud gather upon the sable brows of some who hear me. I confess +the case looks black enough. Sir, I am not a hopeful man. I think I am apt even +to undercalculate the benefits of the future. Yet, sir, in this seemingly +desperate case, I do not despair for my people. There is a bright side to +almost every picture of this kind; and ours is no exception to the general +rule. If the influences against us are strong, those for us are also strong. To +the inquiry, will our enemies prevail in the execution of their designs. In my +God and in my soul, I believe they <i>will not</i>. Let us look at the first +object sought for by the slavery party of the country, viz: the suppression of +anti slavery discussion. They desire to suppress discussion on this subject, +with a view to the peace of the slaveholder and the security of slavery. Now, +sir, neither the principle nor the subordinate objects here declared, can be at +all gained by the slave power, and for this reason: It involves the proposition +to padlock the lips of the whites, in order to secure the fetters on the limbs +of the blacks. The right of speech, precious and priceless, <i>cannot, will +not</i>, be surrendered to slavery. Its suppression is asked for, as I have +said, to give peace and security to slaveholders. Sir, that thing cannot be +done. God has interposed an insuperable obstacle to any such result. +“There can be <i>no peace</i>, saith my God, to the wicked.” +Suppose it were possible to put down this discussion, what would it avail the +guilty slaveholder, pillowed as he is upon heaving bosoms of ruined souls? He +could not have a peaceful spirit. If every anti-slavery tongue in the nation +were silent—every anti-slavery organization dissolved—every +anti-slavery press demolished—every anti slavery periodical, paper, book, +pamphlet, or what not, were searched out, gathered, deliberately burned to +ashes, and their ashes given to the four winds of heaven, still, still the +slaveholder could have <i>“no peace</i>.” In every pulsation of his +heart, in every throb of his life, in every glance of his eye, in the breeze +that soothes, and in the thunder that startles, would be waked up an accuser, +whose cause is, “Thou art, verily, guilty concerning thy brother.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"></a> +THE ANTI-SLAVERY MOVEMENT. Extracts from a Lecture before Various</h2> + +<p> +Anti-Slavery Bodies, in the Winter of 1855. +</p> + +<p> +A grand movement on the part of mankind, in any direction, or for any purpose, +moral or political, is an interesting fact, fit and proper to be studied. It is +such, not only for those who eagerly participate in it, but also for those who +stand aloof from it—even for those by whom it is opposed. I take the +anti-slavery movement to be such an one, and a movement as sublime and glorious +in its character, as it is holy and beneficent in the ends it aims to +accomplish. At this moment, I deem it safe to say, it is properly engrossing +more minds in this country than any other subject now before the American +people. The late John C. Calhoun—one of the mightiest men that ever stood +up in the American senate—did not deem it beneath him; and he probably +studied it as deeply, though not as honestly, as Gerrit Smith, or William Lloyd +Garrison. He evinced the greatest familiarity with the subject; and the +greatest efforts of his last years in the senate had direct reference to this +movement. His eagle eye watched every new development connected with it; and he +was ever prompt to inform the south of every important step in its progress. He +never allowed himself to make light of it; but always spoke of it and treated +it as a matter of grave import; and in this he showed himself a master of the +mental, moral, and religious constitution of human society. Daniel Webster, +too, in the better days of his life, before he gave his assent to the fugitive +slave bill, and trampled upon all his earlier and better convictions—when +his eye was yet single—he clearly comprehended the nature of the elements +involved in this movement; and in his own majestic eloquence, warned the south, +and the country, to have a care how they attempted to put it down. He is an +illustration that it is easier to give, than to take, good advice. To these two +men—the greatest men to whom the nation has yet given birth—may be +traced the two great facts of the present—the south triumphant, and the +north humbled. Their names may stand thus—Calhoun and +domination—Webster and degradation. Yet again. If to the enemies of +liberty this subject is one of engrossing interest, vastly more so should it be +such to freedom’s friends. The latter, it leads to the gates of all +valuable knowledge—philanthropic, ethical, and religious; for it brings +them to the study of man, wonderfully and fearfully made—the proper study +of man through all time—the open book, in which are the records of time +and eternity. +</p> + +<p> +Of the existence and power of the anti-slavery movement, as a fact, you need no +evidence. The nation has seen its face, and felt the controlling pressure of +its hand. You have seen it moving in all directions, and in all weathers, and +in all places, appearing most where desired least, and pressing hardest where +most resisted. No place is exempt. The quiet prayer meeting, and the stormy +halls of national debate, share its presence alike. It is a common intruder, +and of course has the name of being ungentlemanly. Brethren who had long sung, +in the most affectionate fervor, and with the greatest sense of security, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Together let us sweetly live—together let us die, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +have been suddenly and violently separated by it, and ranged in hostile +attitude toward each other. The Methodist, one of the most powerful religious +organizations of this country, has been rent asunder, and its strongest bolts +of denominational brotherhood started at a single surge. It has changed the +tone of the northern pulpit, and modified that of the press. A celebrated +divine, who, four years ago, was for flinging his own mother, or brother, into +the remorseless jaws of the monster slavery, lest he should swallow up the +Union, now recognizes anti-slavery as a characteristic of future civilization. +Signs and wonders follow this movement; and the fact just stated is one of +them. Party ties are loosened by it; and men are compelled to take sides for or +against it, whether they will or not. Come from where he may, or come for what +he may, he is compelled to show his hand. What is this mighty force? What is +its history? and what is its destiny? Is it ancient or modern, transient or +permanent? Has it turned aside, like a stranger and a sojourner, to tarry for a +night? or has it come to rest with us forever? Excellent chances are here for +speculation; and some of them are quite profound. We might, for instance, +proceed to inquire not only into the philosophy of the anti-slavery movement, +but into the philosophy of the law, in obedience to which that movement started +into existence. We might demand to know what is that law or power, which, at +different times, disposes the minds of men to this or that particular +object—now for peace, and now for war—now for freedom, and now for +slavery; but this profound question I leave to the abolitionists of the +superior class to answer. The speculations which must precede such answer, +would afford, perhaps, about the same satisfaction as the learned theories +which have rained down upon the world, from time to time, as to the origin of +evil. I shall, therefore, avoid water in which I cannot swim, and deal with +anti-slavery as a fact, like any other fact in the history of mankind, capable +of being described and understood, both as to its internal forces, and its +external phases and relations. +</p> + +<p> +[After an eloquent, a full, and highly interesting exposition of the nature, +character, and history of the anti-slavery movement, from the insertion of +which want of space precludes us, he concluded in the following happy manner.] +</p> + +<p> +Present organizations may perish, but the cause will go on. That cause has a +life, distinct and independent of the organizations patched up from time to +time to carry it forward. Looked at, apart from the bones and sinews and body, +it is a thing immortal. It is the very essence of justice, liberty, and love. +The moral life of human society, it cannot die while conscience, honor, and +humanity remain. If but one be filled with it, the cause lives. Its incarnation +in any one individual man, leaves the whole world a priesthood, occupying the +highest moral eminence even that of disinterested benevolence. Whoso has +ascended his height, and has the grace to stand there, has the world at his +feet, and is the world’s teacher, as of divine right. He may set in +judgment on the age, upon the civilization of the age, and upon the religion of +the age; for he has a test, a sure and certain test, by which to try all +institutions, and to measure all men. I say, he may do this, but this is not +the chief business for which he is qualified. The great work to which he is +called is not that of judgment. Like the Prince of Peace, he may say, if I +judge, I judge righteous judgment; still mainly, like him, he may say, this is +not his work. The man who has thoroughly embraced the principles of justice, +love, and liberty, like the true preacher of Christianity, is less anxious to +reproach the world of its sins, than to win it to repentance. His great work on +earth is to exemplify, and to illustrate, and to ingraft those principles upon +the living and practical understandings of all men within the reach of his +influence. This is his work; long or short his years, many or few his +adherents, powerful or weak his instrumentalities, through good report, or +through bad report, this is his work. It is to snatch from the bosom of nature +the latent facts of each individual man’s experience, and with steady +hand to hold them up fresh and glowing, enforcing, with all his power, their +acknowledgment and practical adoption. If there be but <i>one</i> such man in +the land, no matter what becomes of abolition societies and parties, there will +be an anti-slavery cause, and an anti-slavery movement. Fortunately for that +cause, and fortunately for him by whom it is espoused, it requires no +extraordinary amount of talent to preach it or to receive it when preached. The +grand secret of its power is, that each of its principles is easily rendered +appreciable to the faculty of reason in man, and that the most unenlightened +conscience has no difficulty in deciding on which side to register its +testimony. It can call its preachers from among the fishermen, and raise them +to power. In every human breast, it has an advocate which can be silent only +when the heart is dead. It comes home to every man’s understanding, and +appeals directly to every man’s conscience. A man that does not recognize +and approve for himself the rights and privileges contended for, in behalf of +the American slave, has not yet been found. In whatever else men may differ, +they are alike in the apprehension of their natural and personal rights. The +difference between abolitionists and those by whom they are opposed, is not as +to principles. All are agreed in respect to these. The manner of applying them +is the point of difference. +</p> + +<p> +The slaveholder himself, the daily robber of his equal brother, discourses +eloquently as to the excellency of justice, and the man who employs a brutal +driver to flay the flesh of his negroes, is not offended when kindness and +humanity are commended. Every time the abolitionist speaks of justice, the +anti-abolitionist assents says, yes, I wish the world were filled with a +disposition to render to every man what is rightfully due him; I should then +get what is due me. That’s right; let us have justice. By all means, let +us have justice. Every time the abolitionist speaks in honor of human liberty, +he touches a chord in the heart of the anti-abolitionist, which responds in +harmonious vibrations. Liberty—yes, that is evidently my right, and let +him beware who attempts to invade or abridge that right. Every time he speaks +of love, of human brotherhood, and the reciprocal duties of man and man, the +anti-abolitionist assents—says, yes, all right—all true—we +cannot have such ideas too often, or too fully expressed. So he says, and so he +feels, and only shows thereby that he is a man as well as an anti-abolitionist. +You have only to keep out of sight the manner of applying your principles, to +get them endorsed every time. Contemplating himself, he sees truth with +absolute clearness and distinctness. He only blunders when asked to lose sight +of himself. In his own cause he can beat a Boston lawyer, but he is dumb when +asked to plead the cause of others. He knows very well whatsoever he would have +done unto himself, but is quite in doubt as to having the same thing done unto +others. It is just here, that lions spring up in the path of duty, and the +battle once fought in heaven is refought on the earth. So it is, so hath it +ever been, and so must it ever be, when the claims of justice and mercy make +their demand at the door of human selfishness. Nevertheless, there is that +within which ever pleads for the right and the just. +</p> + +<p> +In conclusion, I have taken a sober view of the present anti-slavery movement. +I am sober, but not hopeless. There is no denying, for it is everywhere +admitted, that the anti-slavery question is the great moral and social question +now before the American people. A state of things has gradually been developed, +by which that question has become the first thing in order. It must be met. +Herein is my hope. The great idea of impartial liberty is now fairly before the +American people. Anti-slavery is no longer a thing to be prevented. The time +for prevention is past. This is great gain. When the movement was younger and +weaker—when it wrought in a Boston garret to human apprehension, it might +have been silently put out of the way. Things are different now. It has grown +too large—its friends are too numerous—its facilities too +abundant—its ramifications too extended—its power too omnipotent, +to be snuffed out by the contingencies of infancy. A thousand strong men might +be struck down, and its ranks still be invincible. One flash from the +heart-supplied intellect of Harriet Beecher Stowe could light a million camp +fires in front of the embattled host of slavery, which not all the waters of +the Mississippi, mingled as they are with blood, could extinguish. The present +will be looked to by after coming generations, as the age of anti-slavery +literature—when supply on the gallop could not keep pace with the ever +growing demand—when a picture of a Negro on the cover was a help to the +sale of a book—when conservative lyceums and other American literary +associations began first to select their orators for distinguished occasions +from the ranks of the previously despised abolitionists. If the anti-slavery +movement shall fail now, it will not be from outward opposition, but from +inward decay. Its auxiliaries are everywhere. Scholars, authors, orators, +poets, and statesmen give it their aid. The most brilliant of American poets +volunteer in its service. Whittier speaks in burning verse to more than thirty +thousand, in the National Era. Your own Longfellow whispers, in every hour of +trial and disappointment, “labor and wait.” James Russell Lowell is +reminding us that “men are more than institutions.” Pierpont cheers +the heart of the pilgrim in search of liberty, by singing the praises of +“the north star.” Bryant, too, is with us; and though chained to +the car of party, and dragged on amidst a whirl of political excitement, he +snatches a moment for letting drop a smiling verse of sympathy for the man in +chains. The poets are with us. It would seem almost absurd to say it, +considering the use that has been made of them, that we have allies in the +Ethiopian songs; those songs that constitute our national music, and without +which we have no national music. They are heart songs, and the finest feelings +of human nature are expressed in them. “Lucy Neal,” “Old +Kentucky Home,” and “Uncle Ned,” can make the heart sad as +well as merry, and can call forth a tear as well as a smile. They awaken the +sympathies for the slave, in which antislavery principles take root, grow, and +flourish. In addition to authors, poets, and scholars at home, the moral sense +of the civilized world is with us. England, France, and Germany, the three +great lights of modern civilization, are with us, and every American traveler +learns to regret the existence of slavery in his country. The growth of +intelligence, the influence of commerce, steam, wind, and lightning are our +allies. It would be easy to amplify this summary, and to swell the vast +conglomeration of our material forces; but there is a deeper and truer method +of measuring the power of our cause, and of comprehending its vitality. This is +to be found in its accordance with the best elements of human nature. It is +beyond the power of slavery to annihilate affinities recognized and established +by the Almighty. The slave is bound to mankind by the powerful and inextricable +net-work of human brotherhood. His voice is the voice of a man, and his cry is +the cry of a man in distress, and man must cease to be man before he can become +insensible to that cry. It is the righteous of the cause—the humanity of +the cause—which constitutes its potency. As one genuine bankbill is worth +more than a thousand counterfeits, so is one man, with right on his side, worth +more than a thousand in the wrong. “One may chase a thousand, and put ten +thousand to flight.” It is, therefore, upon the goodness of our cause, +more than upon all other auxiliaries, that we depend for its final triumph. +</p> + +<p> +Another source of congratulations is the fact that, amid all the efforts made +by the church, the government, and the people at large, to stay the onward +progress of this movement, its course has been onward, steady, straight, +unshaken, and unchecked from the beginning. Slavery has gained victories large +and numerous; but never as against this movement—against a temporizing +policy, and against northern timidity, the slave power has been victorious; but +against the spread and prevalence in the country, of a spirit of resistance to +its aggression, and of sentiments favorable to its entire overthrow, it has yet +accomplished nothing. Every measure, yet devised and executed, having for its +object the suppression of anti-slavery, has been as idle and fruitless as +pouring oil to extinguish fire. A general rejoicing took place on the passage +of “the compromise measures” of 1850. Those measures were called +peace measures, and were afterward termed by both the great parties of the +country, as well as by leading statesmen, a final settlement of the whole +question of slavery; but experience has laughed to scorn the wisdom of +pro-slavery statesmen; and their final settlement of agitation seems to be the +final revival, on a broader and grander scale than ever before, of the question +which they vainly attempted to suppress forever. The fugitive slave bill has +especially been of positive service to the anti-slavery movement. It has +illustrated before all the people the horrible character of slavery toward the +slave, in hunting him down in a free state, and tearing him away from wife and +children, thus setting its claims higher than marriage or parental claims. It +has revealed the arrogant and overbearing spirit of the slave states toward the +free states; despising their principles—shocking their feelings of +humanity, not only by bringing before them the abominations of slavery, but by +attempting to make them parties to the crime. It has called into exercise among +the colored people, the hunted ones, a spirit of manly resistance well +calculated to surround them with a bulwark of sympathy and respect hitherto +unknown. For men are always disposed to respect and defend rights, when the +victims of oppression stand up manfully for themselves. +</p> + +<p> +There is another element of power added to the anti-slavery movement, of great +importance; it is the conviction, becoming every day more general and +universal, that slavery must be abolished at the south, or it will demoralize +and destroy liberty at the north. It is the nature of slavery to beget a state +of things all around it favorable to its own continuance. This fact, connected +with the system of bondage, is beginning to be more fully realized. The +slave-holder is not satisfied to associate with men in the church or in the +state, unless he can thereby stain them with the blood of his slaves. To be a +slave-holder is to be a propagandist from necessity; for slavery can only live +by keeping down the under-growth morality which nature supplies. Every new-born +white babe comes armed from the Eternal presence, to make war on slavery. The +heart of pity, which would melt in due time over the brutal chastisements it +sees inflicted on the helpless, must be hardened. And this work goes on every +day in the year, and every hour in the day. +</p> + +<p> +What is done at home is being done also abroad here in the north. And even now +the question may be asked, have we at this moment a single free state in the +Union? The alarm at this point will become more general. The slave power must +go on in its career of exactions. Give, give, will be its cry, till the +timidity which concedes shall give place to courage, which shall resist. Such +is the voice of experience, such has been the past, such is the present, and +such will be that future, which, so sure as man is man, will come. Here I leave +the subject; and I leave off where I began, consoling myself and congratulating +the friends of freedom upon the fact that the anti-slavery cause is not a new +thing under the sun; not some moral delusion which a few years’ +experience may dispel. It has appeared among men in all ages, and summoned its +advocates from all ranks. Its foundations are laid in the deepest and holiest +convictions, and from whatever soul the demon, selfishness, is expelled, there +will this cause take up its abode. Old as the everlasting hills; immovable as +the throne of God; and certain as the purposes of eternal power, against all +hinderances, and against all delays, and despite all the mutations of human +instrumentalities, it is the faith of my soul, that this anti-slavery cause +will triumph. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_FOOT" id="link2H_FOOT"></a> +FOOTNOTES</h2> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ Letter, Introduction to <i>Life +of Frederick Douglass</i>, Boston, 1841.] +</p> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ One of these ladies, impelled +by the same noble spirit which carried Miss Nightingale to Scutari, has devoted +her time, her untiring energies, to a great extent her means, and her high +literary abilities, to the advancement and support of Frederick Douglass’ +Paper, the only organ of the downtrodden, edited and published by one of +themselves, in the United States.] +</p> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br /> [ Mr. Stephen Myers, of Albany, +deserves mention as one of the most persevering among the colored editorial +fraternity.] +</p> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br /> [ The German physiologists have +even discovered vegetable matter—starch—in the human body. See +<i>Med. Chirurgical Rev</i>., Oct., 1854, p. 339.] +</p> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br /> [ Mr. Wm. H. Topp, of Albany.] +</p> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +6 (<a href="#linknoteref-6">return</a>)<br /> [ This is the same man who gave +me the roots to prevent my being whipped by Mr. Covey. He was “a clever +soul.” We used frequently to talk about the fight with Covey, and as +often as we did so, he would claim my success as the result of the roots which +he gave me. This superstition is very common among the more ignorant slaves. A +slave seldom dies, but that his death is attributed to trickery.] +</p> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +7 (<a href="#linknoteref-7">return</a>)<br /> [ He was a whole-souled man, +fully imbued with a love of his afflicted and hunted people, and took pleasure +in being to me, as was his wont, “Eyes to the blind, and legs to the +lame.” This brave and devoted man suffered much from the persecutions +common to all who have been prominent benefactors. He at last became blind, and +needed a friend to guide him, even as he had been a guide to others. Even in +his blindness, he exhibited his manly character. In search of health, he became +a physician. When hope of gaining is(sic) own was gone, he had hope for others. +Believing in hydropathy, he established, at Northampton, Massachusetts, a large +<i>“Water Cure,”</i> and became one of the most successful of all +engaged in that mode of treatment.] +</p> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +8 (<a href="#linknoteref-8">return</a>)<br /> [ The following is a copy of +these curious papers, both of my transfer from Thomas to Hugh Auld, and from +Hugh to myself: +</p> + +<p> +“Know all men by these Presents, That I, Thomas Auld, of Talbot county, +and state of Maryland, for and in consideration of the sum of one hundred +dollars, current money, to me paid by Hugh Auld, of the city of Baltimore, in +the said state, at and before the sealing and delivery of these presents, the +receipt whereof, I, the said Thomas Auld, do hereby acknowledge, have granted, +bargained, and sold, and by these presents do grant, bargain, and sell unto the +said Hugh Auld, his executors, administrators, and assigns, ONE NEGRO MAN, by +the name of FREDERICK BAILY, or DOUGLASS, as he callls(sic) himself—he is +now about twenty-eight years of age—to have and to hold the said negro +man for life. And I, the said Thomas Auld, for myself my heirs, executors, and +administrators, all and singular, the said FREDERICK BAILY <i>alias</i> +DOUGLASS, unto the said Hugh Auld, his executors, administrators, and assigns +against me, the said Thomas Auld, my executors, and administrators, and against +ali and every other person or persons whatsoever, shall and will warrant and +forever defend by these presents. In witness whereof, I set my hand and seal, +this thirteenth day of November, eighteen hundred and forty-six. +</p> + +<p> +THOMAS AULD +</p> + +<p> +“Signed, sealed, and delivered in presence of Wrightson Jones. +</p> + +<p> +“JOHN C. LEAS. +</p> + +<p> +The authenticity of this bill of sale is attested by N. Harrington, a justice +of the peace of the state of Maryland, and for the county of Talbot, dated same +day as above. +</p> + +<p> +“To all whom it may concern: Be it known, that I, Hugh Auld, of the city +of Baltimore, in Baltimore county, in the state of Maryland, for divers good +causes and considerations, me thereunto moving, have released from slavery, +liberated, manumitted, and set free, and by these presents do hereby release +from slavery, liberate, manumit, and set free, MY NEGRO MAN, named FREDERICK +BAILY, otherwise called DOUGLASS, being of the age of twenty-eight years, or +thereabouts, and able to work and gain a sufficient livelihood and maintenance; +and him the said negro man named FREDERICK BAILY, otherwise called FREDERICK +DOUGLASS, I do declare to be henceforth free, manumitted, and discharged from +all manner of servitude to me, my executors, and administrators forever. +</p> + +<p> +“In witness whereof, I, the said Hugh Auld, have hereunto set my hand and +seal the fifth of December, in the year one thousand eight hundred and +forty-six. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh Auld +</p> + +<p> +“Sealed and delivered in presence of T. Hanson Belt. +</p> + +<p> +“JAMES N. S. T. WRIGHT”] <a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +9 (<a href="#linknoteref-9">return</a>)<br /> [ See Appendix to this volume, +page 317.] +</p> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +10 (<a href="#linknoteref-10">return</a>)<br /> [ Mr. Douglass’ published +speeches alone, would fill two volumes of the size of this. Our space will only +permit the insertion of the extracts which follow; and which, for originality +of thought, beauty and force of expression, and for impassioned, indignatory +eloquence, have seldom been equaled.] +</p> + +<p> +<a name="linknote-11" id="linknote-11"></a> +</p> + +<p class="foot"> +11 (<a href="#linknoteref-11">return</a>)<br /> [ It is not often that chattels +address their owners. The following letter is unique; and probably the only +specimen of the kind extant. It was written while in England.] +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BONDAGE AND MY FREEDOM ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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