NARRATIVE
OF THE LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS, AN AMERICAN SLAVE.
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF
PREFACE
In the month of August, 1841, I attended an antislavery convention
in
Fortunate, most fortunate occurrence!--fortunate for the
millions of his manacled brethren, yet panting for deliverance from their awful
thraldom!--fortunate for the cause of negro emancipation, and of universal liberty!--fortunate for
the land of his birth, which he has already done so much to save and bless!
--fortunate for a large circle of friends and acquaintances, whose sympathy and
affection he has strongly secured by the many sufferings he has endured, by his
virtuous traits of character, by his ever-abiding remembrance of those who are
in bonds, as being bound with them!--fortunate for the multitudes, in various
parts of our republic, whose minds he has enlightened on the subject of
slavery, and who have been melted to tears by his pathos, or roused to virtuous
indignation by his stirring eloquence against the enslavers of men!--fortunate
for himself, as it at once brought him into the field of public usefulness,
"gave the world assurance of a MAN," quickened the slumbering
energies of his soul, and consecrated him to the great work of breaking the rod
of the oppressor, and letting the oppressed go free!
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--the applause
which followed from the beginning to the end of his felicitous remarks. 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 proportion and stature commanding and exact--in
intellect richly endowed--in natural eloquence a prodigy--in soul manifestly
"created but a little lower than the angels"--yet a slave, ay, a
fugitive slave,--trembling for his safety, hardly daring to believe that on the
American soil, a single white person could be found who would befriend him at
all hazards, for the love of God and humanity!
Capable of high attainments as an intellectual and moral being--needing
nothing but a comparatively small amount of cultivation to make him an ornament
to society and a blessing to his race--by the law of the land, by the voice of
the people, by the terms of the slave code, he was only a piece of property, a
beast of burden, a chattel personal, nevertheless!
A beloved friend from
It was at once deeply impressed upon my mind, that, if Mr.
DOUGLASS could be persuaded to consecrate his time and talents to the promotion
of the anti-slavery enterprise, a powerful impetus would be given to it, and a
stunning blow at the same time inflicted on northern prejudice against a
colored complexion. I therefore
endeavored to instil hope and courage into his mind,
in order that he might dare to engage in a vocation so anomalous and
responsible for a person in his situation; and I was seconded in this effort by
warm-hearted friends, especially by the late General Agent of the Massachusetts
Anti-Slavery Society, Mr. JOHN A. COLLINS, whose judgment in this instance
entirely coincided with my own. At
first, he could give no encouragement; with unfeigned diffidence, he expressed
his conviction that he was not adequate to the performance of so great a task;
the path marked out was wholly an untrodden one; he
was sincerely apprehensive that he should do more harm than good. After much
deliberation, however, he consented to make a trial; and ever since that
period, he has acted as a lecturing agent, under the auspices either of the
American or the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society. In labors he has been most
abundant; and his success in combating prejudice, in gaining proselytes, in
agitating the public mind, has far surpassed the most sanguine expectations
that were raised at the commencement of his brilliant career. He has borne himself with gentleness and
meekness, yet with true manliness of character.
As a public speaker, he excels in pathos, wit, comparison, imitation, strength
of reasoning, and fluency of language.
There is in him that union of head and heart, which is indispensable to
an enlightenment of the heads and a winning of the hearts of others. May his strength continue to be equal to his
day! May he continue to "grow in
grace, and in the knowledge of God," that he may be increasingly serviceable
in the cause of bleeding humanity, whether at home or abroad!
It is certainly a very remarkable fact, that one of the most
efficient advocates of the slave population, now before the public, is a
fugitive slave, in the person of FREDERICK DOUGLASS; and that the free colored
population of the United States are as ably represented by one of their own
number, in the person of CHARLES LENOX REMOND, whose eloquent appeals have
extorted the highest applause of multitudes on both sides of the Atlantic. Let the calumniators of the colored race
despise themselves for their baseness and illiberality of spirit, and
henceforth cease to talk of the natural inferiority of those who require
nothing but time and opportunity to attain to the highest point of human
excellence.
It may, perhaps, be fairly questioned, whether any other
portion of the population of the earth could have endured the privations,
sufferings and horrors of slavery, without having become more degraded in the
scale of humanity than the slaves of African descent. Nothing has been left undone to cripple their
intellects, darken their minds, debase their moral nature, obliterate all
traces of their relationship to mankind; and yet how wonderfully they have
sustained the mighty load of a most frightful bondage, under which they have
been groaning for centuries! To
illustrate the effect of slavery on the white man,--to show that he has no
powers of endurance, in such a condition, superior to those of his black
brother,--DANIEL O'CONNELL, the distinguished advocate of universal
emancipation, and the mightiest champion of prostrate but not conquered
Ireland, relates the following anecdote in a speech delivered by him in the
Conciliation Hall, Dublin, before the Loyal National Repeal Association, March
31, 1845. "No matter," said Mr. O'CONNELL, "under what specious
term it may disguise itself, slavery is still hideous. ~It has a natural, an inevitable tendency to
brutalize every noble faculty of man.~
An American sailor, who was cast away on the shore of Africa, where he
was kept in slavery for three years, was, at the expiration of that period,
found to be imbruted and stultified--he had lost all reasoning power; and
having forgotten his native language, could only utter some savage gibberish
between Arabic and English, which nobody could understand, and which even he
himself found difficulty in pronouncing.
So much for the humanizing influence of THE DOMESTIC
INSTITUTION!" Admitting this
to have been an extraordinary case of mental deterioration, it proves at least
that the white slave can sink as low in the scale of humanity as the black one.
Mr. DOUGLASS has very properly chosen to write his own
Narrative, in his own style, and according to the best of his ability, rather
than to employ some one else. It is,
therefore, entirely his own production; and, considering how long and dark was
the career he had to run as a slave,--how few have been his opportunities to
improve his mind since he broke his iron fetters,--it is, in my judgment,
highly creditable to his head and heart.
He who can peruse it without a tearful eye, a heaving breast, an
afflicted spirit,-without being filled with an unutterable abhorrence of
slavery and all its abettors, and animated with a determination to seek the
immediate overthrow of that execrable system,--without trembling for the fate
of this country in the hands of a righteous God, who is ever on the side of the
oppressed, and whose arm is not shortened that it cannot save,--must have a
flinty heart, and be qualified to act the part of a trafficker "in slaves
and the souls of men." I am
confident that it is essentially true in all its statements; that nothing has
been set down in malice, nothing exaggerated, nothing drawn from the
imagination; that it comes short of the reality, rather than overstates a
single fact in regard to SLAVERY AS IT IS. The experience of FREDERICK
DOUGLASS, as a slave, was not a peculiar one; his lot was not especially a hard
one; his case may be regarded as a very fair specimen of the treatment of
slaves in
This Narrative contains many affecting incidents, many
passages of great eloquence and power; but I think the most thrilling one of
them all is the description DOUGLASS gives of his feelings, as he stood
soliloquizing respecting his fate, and the chances of his one day being a
freeman, on the banks of the Chesapeake Bay--viewing the receding vessels as
they flew with their white wings before the breeze, and apostrophizing them as
animated by the living spirit of freedom.
Who can read that passage, and be insensible to its pathos and
sublimity? Compressed into it is a whole
Alexandrian library of thought, feeling, and sentiment--all that can, all that
need be urged, in the form of expostulation, entreaty, rebuke, against that
crime of crimes,--making man the property of his fellow-man! O, how accursed is that system, which entombs
the godlike mind of man, defaces the divine image, reduces those who by
creation were crowned with glory and honor to a level with four-footed beasts,
and exalts the dealer in human flesh above all that is called God! Why should its existence be prolonged one
hour? Is it not evil, only evil, and
that continually? What does its presence
imply but the absence of all fear of God, all regard for man, on the part of
the people of the
So profoundly ignorant of the nature of slavery are many
persons, that they are stubbornly incredulous whenever they read or listen to
any recital of the cruelties which are daily inflicted on its victims. They do
not deny that the slaves are held as property; but that terrible fact seems to
convey to their minds no idea of injustice, exposure to outrage, or savage
barbarity. Tell them of cruel scourgings, of mutilations and brandings, of scenes of
pollution and blood, of the banishment of all light and knowledge, and they
affect to be greatly indignant at such enormous exaggerations, such wholesale
misstatements, such abominable libels on the character
of the southern planters! As if all
these direful outrages were not the natural results of slavery! As if it were less
cruel to reduce a human being to the condition of a thing, than to give him a
severe flagellation, or to deprive him of necessary food and clothing! As if
whips, chains, thumb-screws, paddles, bloodhounds, overseers, drivers, patrols,
were not all indispensable to keep the slaves down, and to give protection to
their ruthless oppressors! As if, when
the marriage institution is abolished, concubinage,
adultery, and incest, must not necessarily abound; when all the rights of
humanity are annihilated, any barrier remains to protect the victim from the
fury of the spoiler; when absolute power is assumed over life and liberty, it
will not be wielded with destructive sway!
Skeptics of this character abound in society. In some few instances, their incredulity
arises from a want of reflection; but, generally, it indicates a hatred of the
light, a desire to shield slavery from the assaults of its foes, a contempt of the colored race, whether bond or free. Such will try to discredit the shocking tales
of slaveholding cruelty which are recorded in this truthful Narrative; but they
will labor in vain. Mr. DOUGLASS has
frankly disclosed the place of his birth, the names of those who claimed
ownership in his body and soul, and the names also of those who committed the
crimes which he has alleged against them.
His statements, therefore, may easily be disproved, if they are untrue.
In the course of his Narrative, he relates two instances of
murderous cruelty,--in one of which a planter deliberately shot a slave
belonging to a neighboring plantation, who had unintentionally gotten within
his lordly domain in quest of fish; and in the other, an overseer blew out the
brains of a slave who had fled to a stream of water to escape a bloody
scourging. Mr. DOUGLASS states that in
neither of these instances was any thing done by way of legal arrest or
judicial investigation. The Baltimore
American, of March 17, 1845, relates a similar case of atrocity, perpetrated
with similar impunity--as follows:--"~Shooting a slave.~--We learn, upon
the authority of a letter from Charles county, Maryland, received by a
gentleman of this city, that a young man, named Matthews, a nephew of General
Matthews, and whose father, it is believed, holds an office at Washington,
killed one of the slaves upon his father's farm by shooting him. The letter states that young Matthews had
been left in charge of the farm; that he gave an order to the servant, which
was disobeyed, when he proceeded to the house, ~obtained a gun, and, returning,
shot the servant.~ He immediately, the
letter continues, fled to his father's residence, where he still remains unmolested."--Let
it never be forgotten, that no slaveholder or overseer can be convicted of any
outrage perpetrated on the person of a slave, however diabolical it may be, on
the testimony of colored witnesses, whether bond or free. By the slave code, they are adjudged to be as
incompetent to testify against a white man, as though they were indeed a part
of the brute creation. Hence, there is no legal protection in fact, whatever
there may be in form, for the slave population; and any amount of cruelty may
be inflicted on them with impunity. Is
it possible for the human mind to conceive of a more horrible state of society?
The effect of a religious profession on the conduct of
southern masters is vividly described in the following Narrative, and shown to
be any thing but salutary. In the nature
of the case, it must be in the highest degree pernicious. The testimony of Mr. DOUGLASS, on this point,
is sustained by a cloud of witnesses, whose veracity is unimpeachable. "A slaveholder's profession of
Christianity is a palpable imposture. He
is a felon of the highest grade. He is a
man-stealer. It is of no importance what
you put in the other scale."
Reader! are you with the
man-stealers in sympathy and purpose, or on the side of their down-trodden
victims? If with the former, then are
you the foe of God and man. If with the
latter, what are you prepared to do and dare in their behalf? Be faithful, be vigilant, be untiring in your
efforts to break every yoke, and let the oppressed go free. Come what may --cost what it may--inscribe on
the banner which you unfurl to the breeze, as your religious and political
motto--"NO COMPROMISE WITH SLAVERY!
NO
WM. LLOYD
GARRISON
LETTER
FROM WENDELL PHILLIPS, ESQ.
My Dear Friend:
You remember the old fable of "The Man and the
Lion," where the lion complained that he should not be so misrepresented
"when the lions wrote history."
I am glad the time has come when the "lions write
history." We have been left long
enough to gather the character of slavery from the involuntary evidence of the
masters. One might, indeed, rest
sufficiently satisfied with what, it is evident, must be, in general, the
results of such a relation, without seeking farther to find whether they have
followed in every instance. Indeed,
those who stare at the half-peck of corn a week, and love to count the lashes
on the slave's back, are seldom the "stuff" out of which reformers
and abolitionists are to be made. I remember that, in 1838, many were waiting
for the results of the
I was glad to learn, in your story, how early the most
neglected of God's children waken to a sense of their rights, and of the
injustice done them. Experience is a
keen teacher; and long before you had mastered your A B C, or knew where the
"white sails" of the Chesapeake were bound, you began, I see, to
gauge the wretchedness of the slave, not by his hunger and want, not by his
lashes and toil, but by the cruel and blighting death which gathers over his
soul.
In connection with this, there is one circumstance which
makes your recollections peculiarly valuable, and renders your early insight
the more remarkable. You come from that part of the country where we are told
slavery appears with its fairest features.
Let us hear, then, what it is at its best estate--gaze on its bright
side, if it has one; and then imagination may task her powers to add dark lines
to the picture, as she travels southward to that (for the colored man) Valley
of the Shadow of Death, where the Mississippi sweeps along.
Again, we have known you long, and can put the most entire
confidence in your truth, candor, and sincerity. Every one who has heard you speak has felt,
and, I am confident, every one who reads your book will feel, persuaded that
you give them a fair specimen of the whole truth. No one-sided portrait, --no wholesale
complaints,--but strict justice done, whenever individual kindliness has
neutralized, for a moment, the deadly system with which it was strangely
allied. You have been with us, too, some
years, and can fairly compare the twilight of rights, which your race enjoy at the
North, with that "noon of night" under which they labor south of
Mason and Dixon's line. Tell us whether,
after all, the halffree colored man of
In reading your life, no one can say that we have unfairly
picked out some rare specimens of cruelty. We know that the bitter drops, which
even you have drained from the cup, are no incidental aggravations, no
individual ills, but such as must mingle always and necessarily in the lot of every
slave. They are the essential
ingredients, not the occasional results, of the system.
After all, I shall read your book with trembling for
you. Some years ago, when you were
beginning to tell me your real name and birthplace, you may remember I stopped
you, and preferred to remain ignorant of all.
With the exception of a vague description, so I continued, till the
other day, when you read me your memoirs.
I hardly knew, at the time, whether to thank you or not for the sight of
them, when I reflected that it was still dangerous, in
You, perhaps, may tell your story in safety, endeared as you
are to so many warm hearts by rare gifts, and a still rarer devotion of them to
the service of others. But it will be
owing only to your labors, and the fearless efforts of those who, trampling the
laws and Constitution of the country under their feet, are determined that they
will "hide the outcast," and that their hearths shall be, spite of
the law, an asylum for the oppressed, if, some time or other, the humblest may
stand in our streets, and bear witness in safety against the cruelties of which
he has been the victim.
Yet it is sad to think, that these very throbbing hearts
which welcome your story, and form your best safeguard in telling it, are all
beating contrary to the "statute in such case made and
provided." Go on, my dear friend,
till you, and those who, like you, have been saved, so as by fire, from the
dark prisonhouse, shall stereotype these free,
illegal pulses into statutes; and New England, cutting loose from a
blood-stained Union, shall glory in being the house of refuge for the
oppressed,--till we no longer merely "~hide~ the outcast," or make a
merit of standing idly by while he is hunted in our midst; but, consecrating
anew the soil of the Pilgrims as an asylum for the oppressed, proclaim our
WELCOME to the slave so loudly, that the tones shall reach every hut in the
Carolinas, and make the broken-hearted bondman leap up at the thought of old
Massachusetts.
God speed
the day!
~Till then, and ever,~
~Yours truly,~
~WENDELL PHILLIPS~
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
Frederick Douglass was born in slavery as
CHAPTER I
I was born in Tuckahoe, near Hillsborough, and about twelve
miles from Easton, in Talbot county, Maryland.
I have no accurate knowledge of my age, never having seen any authentic
record containing it. By far the larger part of the slaves know as little of
their ages as horses know of theirs, and it is the wish of most masters within
my knowledge to keep their slaves thus ignorant. I do not remember to have ever met a slave
who could tell of his birthday. They
seldom come nearer to it than planting-time, harvesttime,
cherry-time, spring-time, or fall-time.
A want of information concerning my own was a source of unhappiness to
me even during childhood. The white
children could tell their ages. I could
not tell why I ought to be deprived of the same privilege. I was not allowed to make any inquiries of my
master concerning it. He deemed all such
inquiries on the part of a slave improper and impertinent, and evidence of a
restless spirit. The nearest estimate I
can give makes me now between twenty-seven and twentyeight
years of age. I come to this, from
hearing my master say, some time during 1835, I was about seventeen years old.
My mother was named Harriet Bailey. She was the daughter of Isaac and Betsey
Bailey, both colored, and quite dark. My
mother was of a darker complexion than either my grandmother or grandfather.
My father was a white man.
He was admitted to be such by all I ever heard speak of my parentage.
The opinion was also whispered that my master was my father; but of the
correctness of this opinion, I know nothing; the means of knowing was withheld
from me. My mother and I were separated
when I was but an infant--before I knew her as my mother. It is a common
custom, in the part of Maryland from which I ran away, to part children from
their mothers at a very early age.
Frequently, before the child has reached its twelfth month, its mother
is taken from it, and hired out on some farm a considerable distance off, and
the child is placed under the care of an old woman, too old for field labor.
For what this separation is done, I do not know, unless it be to hinder the
development of the child's affection toward its mother, and to blunt and
destroy the natural affection of the mother for the child. This is the
inevitable result.
I never saw my mother, to know her as such, more than four
or five times in my life; and each of these times was very short in duration,
and at night. She was hired by a Mr.
Stewart, who lived about twelve miles from my home. She made her journeys to see me in the night,
travelling the whole distance on foot, after the
performance of her day's work. She was a
field hand, and a whipping is the penalty of not being in the field at sunrise,
unless a slave has special permission from his or her master to the contrary--a
permission which they seldom get, and one that gives to him that gives it the
proud name of being a kind master. I do
not recollect of ever seeing my mother by the light of day. She was with me in the night. She would lie down with me, and get me to
sleep, but long before I waked she was gone.
Very little communication ever took place between us. Death soon ended
what little we could have while she lived, and with it her hardships and
suffering. She died when I was about seven years old, on one of my master's
farms, near Lee's Mill. I was not
allowed to be present during her illness, at her death, or burial. She was gone long before I knew any thing
about it. Never having enjoyed, to any
considerable extent, her soothing presence, her tender and watchful care, I
received the tidings of her death with much the same emotions I should have
probably felt at the death of a stranger.
Called thus suddenly away, she left me without the slightest
intimation of who my father was. The
whisper that my master was my father, may or may not be true; and, true or
false, it is of but little consequence to my purpose whilst the fact remains,
in all its glaring odiousness, that slaveholders have ordained, and by law
established, that the children of slave women shall in all cases follow the
condition of their mothers; and this is done too obviously to administer to
their own lusts, and make a gratification of their wicked desires profitable as
well as pleasurable; for by this cunning arrangement, the slaveholder, in cases
not a few, sustains to his slaves the double relation of master and father.
I know of such cases; and it is worthy of remark that such
slaves invariably suffer greater hardships, and have more to contend with, than
others. They are, in the first place, a
constant offence to their mistress. She
is ever disposed to find fault with them; they can seldom do any thing to
please her; she is never better pleased than when she sees them under the lash,
especially when she suspects her husband of showing to his mulatto children
favors which he withholds from his black slaves. The master is frequently compelled to sell
this class of his slaves, out of deference to the feelings of his white wife;
and, cruel as the deed may strike any one to be, for a man to sell his own
children to human flesh-mongers, it is often the dictate of humanity for him to
do so; for, unless he does this, he must not only whip them himself, but must
stand by and see one white son tie up his brother, of but few shades darker
complexion than himself, and ply the gory lash to his naked back; and if he
lisp one word of disapproval, it is set down to his parental partiality, and
only makes a bad matter worse, both for himself and the slave whom he would
protect and defend.
Every year brings with it multitudes of this class of
slaves. It was doubtless in consequence
of a knowledge of this fact, that one great statesman of the south predicted
the downfall of slavery by the inevitable laws of population. Whether this prophecy is ever fulfilled or
not, it is nevertheless plain that a very different-looking class of people are
springing up at the south, and are now held in slavery, from those originally
brought to this country from Africa; and if their increase do no other good, it
will do away the force of the argument, that God cursed Ham, and therefore
American slavery is right. If the lineal
descendants of Ham are alone to be scripturally enslaved, it is certain that
slavery at the south must soon become unscriptural; for thousands are ushered
into the world, annually, who, like myself, owe their existence to white
fathers, and those fathers most frequently their own masters.
I have had two masters.
My first master's name was Anthony.
I do not remember his first name. He was generally called Captain
Anthony--a title which, I presume, he acquired by sailing a craft on the
Chesapeake Bay. He was not considered a
rich slaveholder. He owned two or three
farms, and about thirty slaves. His
farms and slaves were under the care of an overseer. The overseer's name was Plummer. Mr. Plummer was a miserable drunkard, a
profane swearer, and a savage monster. He always went armed with a cowskin and a heavy cudgel.
I have known him to cut and slash the women's heads so horribly, that
even master would be enraged at his cruelty, and would threaten to whip him if
he did not mind himself. Master,
however, was not a humane slaveholder.
It required extraordinary barbarity on the part of an overseer to affect
him. He was a cruel man, hardened by a
long life of slaveholding. He would at
times seem to take great pleasure in whipping a slave. I have often been awakened at the dawn of day
by the most heart-rending shrieks of an own aunt of mine, whom he used to tie
up to a joist, and whip upon her naked back till she was literally covered with
blood. No words, no tears, no prayers,
from his gory victim, seemed to move his iron heart from its bloody
purpose. The louder she screamed, the
harder he whipped; and where the blood ran fastest, there he whipped
longest. He would whip her to make her
scream, and whip her to make her hush; and not until overcome by fatigue, would
he cease to swing the blood-clotted cowskin. I
remember the first time I ever witnessed this horrible exhibition. I was quite a child, but I well remember
it. I never shall forget it whilst I
remember any thing. It was the first of
a long series of such outrages, of which I was doomed to be a witness and a
participant. It struck me with awful
force. It was the blood-stained gate,
the entrance to the hell of slavery, through which I was about to pass. It was a most terrible spectacle. I wish I could commit to paper the feelings
with which I beheld it.
This occurrence took place very soon after I went to live
with my old master, and under the following circumstances. Aunt Hester went out one night,-where or for
what I do not know,--and happened to be absent when my master desired her
presence. He had ordered her not to go
out evenings, and warned her that she must never let him catch her in company
with a young man, who was paying attention to her belonging to Colonel
Lloyd. The young man's name was Ned
Roberts, generally called Lloyd's Ned.
Why master was so careful of her, may be safely left to conjecture. She was a woman of noble form, and of graceful
proportions, having very few equals, and fewer superiors, in personal appearance,
among the colored or white women of our neighborhood.
Aunt Hester had not only disobeyed his orders in going out,
but had been found in company with Lloyd's Ned; which circumstance, I found,
from what he said while whipping her, was the chief offence. Had he been a man of pure morals himself, he
might have been thought interested in protecting the innocence of my aunt; but
those who knew him will not suspect him of any such virtue. Before he commenced whipping Aunt Hester, he
took her into the kitchen, and stripped her from neck to waist, leaving her
neck, shoulders, and back, entirely naked.
He then told her to cross her hands, calling her at the same time a
d----d b---h. After crossing her hands,
he tied them with a strong rope, and led her to a stool under a large hook in
the joist, put in for the purpose. He
made her get upon the stool, and tied her hands to the hook. She now stood fair for his infernal purpose. Her arms were stretched up at their full
length, so that she stood upon the ends of her toes. He then said to her, "Now, you d----d
b---h, I'll learn you how to disobey my orders!" and after rolling up his
sleeves, he commenced to lay on the heavy cowskin,
and soon the warm, red blood (amid heart-rending shrieks from her, and horrid
oaths from him) came dripping to the floor.
I was so terrified and horror-stricken at the sight, that I hid myself
in a closet, and dared not venture out till long after the bloody transaction
was over. I expected it would be my turn
next. It was all new to me. I had never seen any thing like it
before. I had always lived with my
grandmother on the outskirts of the plantation, where she was put to raise the
children of the younger women. I had
therefore been, until now, out of the way of the bloody scenes that often
occurred on the plantation.
CHAPTER II
My master's family consisted of two sons, Andrew and
Richard; one daughter, Lucretia, and her husband,
Captain Thomas Auld. They lived in one
house, upon the home plantation of Colonel Edward Lloyd. My master was Colonel Lloyd's clerk and
superintendent. He was what might be
called the overseer of the overseers. I
spent two years of childhood on this plantation in my old master's family. It
was here that I witnessed the bloody transaction recorded in the first chapter;
and as I received my first impressions of slavery on this plantation, I will
give some description of it, and of slavery as it there existed. The plantation is about twelve miles north of
Easton, in Talbot county, and is situated on the border of Miles River. The principal products raised upon it were
tobacco, corn, and wheat. These were
raised in great abundance; so that, with the products of this and the other
farms belonging to him, he was able to keep in almost constant employment a
large sloop, in carrying them to market at Baltimore. This sloop was named Sally Lloyd, in honor of
one of the colonel's daughters. My
master's son-in-law, Captain Auld, was master of the vessel; she was otherwise
manned by the colonel's own slaves.
Their names were Peter, Isaac, Rich, and Jake. These were esteemed very highly by the other
slaves, and looked upon as the privileged ones of the plantation; for it was no
small affair, in the eyes of the slaves, to be allowed to see Baltimore.
Colonel Lloyd kept from three to four hundred slaves on his
home plantation, and owned a large number more on the neighboring farms
belonging to him. The names of the farms
nearest to the home plantation were Wye Town and New
Design. "Wye
Town" was under the overseership of a man named
Noah Willis. New Design was under the overseership of a Mr. Townsend. The overseers of these, and all the rest of
the farms, numbering over twenty, received advice and direction from the
managers of the home plantation. This
was the great business place. It was the
seat of government for the whole twenty farms.
All disputes among the overseers were settled here. If a slave was convicted of any high
misdemeanor, became unmanageable, or evinced a determination to run away, he
was brought immediately here, severely whipped, put on board the sloop, carried
to Baltimore, and sold to Austin Woolfolk, or some
other slave-trader, as a warning to the slaves remaining.
Here, too, the slaves of all the other farms received their monthly
allowance of food, and their yearly clothing.
The men and women slaves received, as their monthly allowance of food,
eight pounds of pork, or its equivalent in fish, and one bushel of corn meal. Their yearly clothing consisted of two coarse
linen shirts, one pair of linen trousers, like the shirts, one jacket, one pair
of trousers for winter, made of coarse negro cloth, one pair of stockings, and
one pair of shoes; the whole of which could not have cost more than seven
dollars. The allowance of the slave
children was given to their mothers, or the old women having the care of
them. The children unable to work in the
field had neither shoes, stockings, jackets, nor trousers, given to them; their
clothing consisted of two coarse linen shirts per year. When these failed them,
they went naked until the next allowance-day.
Children from seven to ten years old, of both sexes, almost naked, might
be seen at all seasons of the year.
There were no beds given the slaves, unless one coarse
blanket be considered such, and none but the men and women had these. This, however, is not considered a very great
privation. They find less difficulty
from the want of beds, than from the want of time to sleep; for when their
day's work in the field is done, the most of them having their washing,
mending, and cooking to do, and having few or none of the ordinary facilities
for doing either of these, very many of their sleeping hours are consumed in
preparing for the field the coming day; and when this is done, old and young,
male and female, married and single, drop down side by side, on one common
bed,--the cold, damp floor,--each covering himself or herself with their
miserable blankets; and here they sleep till they are summoned to the field by
the driver's horn. At the sound of this,
all must rise, and be off to the field.
There must be no halting; every one must be at his or her post; and woe
betides them who hear not this morning summons to the field; for if they are
not awakened by the sense of hearing, they are by the sense of feeling: no age
nor sex finds any favor. Mr. Severe, the overseer, used to stand by the door of
the quarter, armed with a large hickory stick and heavy cowskin,
ready to whip any one who was so unfortunate as not to hear, or, from any other
cause, was prevented from being ready to start for the field at the sound of
the horn.
Mr. Severe was rightly named: he was a cruel man. I have seen him whip a woman, causing the
blood to run half an hour at the time; and this, too, in the midst of her
crying children, pleading for their mother's release. He seemed to take pleasure in manifesting his
fiendish barbarity. Added to his
cruelty, he was a profane swearer. It was enough to chill the blood and stiffen
the hair of an ordinary man to hear him talk.
Scarce a sentence escaped him but that was commenced or concluded by
some horrid oath. The field was the
place to witness his cruelty and profanity.
His presence made it both the field of blood and of blasphemy. From the rising till the going down of the
sun, he was cursing, raving, cutting, and slashing among the slaves of the
field, in the most frightful manner. His
career was short. He died very soon after I went to Colonel Lloyd's; and he
died as he lived, uttering, with his dying groans, bitter curses and horrid
oaths. His death was regarded by the
slaves as the result of a merciful providence.
Mr. Severe's place was filled by a
Mr. Hopkins. He was a very different man.
He was less cruel, less profane, and made less noise, than Mr. Severe. His course was characterized by no
extraordinary demonstrations of cruelty.
He whipped, but seemed to take no pleasure in it. He was called by the slaves a good overseer.
The home plantation of Colonel Lloyd wore the appearance of
a country village. All the mechanical
operations for all the farms were performed here. The shoemaking and mending,
the blacksmithing, cartwrighting, coopering, weaving,
and grain-grinding, were all performed by the slaves on the home
plantation. The whole place wore a business-like
aspect very unlike the neighboring farms.
The number of houses, too, conspired to give it advantage over the
neighboring farms. It was called by the
slaves the ~Great House Farm.~ Few
privileges were esteemed higher, by the slaves of the out-farms, than that of
being selected to do errands at the Great House Farm. It was associated in their minds with
greatness. A representative could not be
prouder of his election to a seat in the American Congress, than a slave on one
of the out-farms would be of his election to do errands at the Great House
Farm. They regarded it as evidence of great confidence reposed in them by their
overseers; and it was on this account, as well as a constant desire to be out
of the field from under the driver's lash, that they esteemed it a high
privilege, one worth careful living for.
He was called the smartest and most trusty fellow, who had this honor
conferred upon him the most frequently.
The competitors for this office sought as diligently to please their
overseers, as the office-seekers in the political parties seek to please and
deceive the people. The same traits of
character might be seen in Colonel Lloyd's slaves, as are seen in the slaves of
the political parties.
The slaves selected to go to the Great House Farm, for the
monthly allowance for themselves and their fellow-slaves, were peculiarly
enthusiastic. While on their way, they
would make the dense old woods, for miles around, reverberate with their wild
songs, revealing at once the highest joy and the deepest sadness. They would compose and sing as they went
along, consulting neither time nor tune.
The thought that came up, came out--if not in the word, in the
sound;--and as frequently in the one as in the other. They would sometimes sing
the most pathetic sentiment in the most rapturous tone, and the most rapturous
sentiment in the most pathetic tone.
Into all of their songs they would manage to weave something of the
Great House Farm. Especially would they
do this, when leaving home. They would
then sing most exultingly the following words:--
"I am
going away to the Great House Farm!
O,
yea! O, yea! O!"
This they would sing, as a chorus, to words which to many
would seem unmeaning jargon, but which, nevertheless, were full of meaning to
themselves. I have sometimes thought
that the mere hearing of those songs would do more to impress some minds with
the horrible character of slavery, than the reading of whole volumes of philosophy
on the subject could do.
I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meaning of
those rude and apparently incoherent songs.
I was myself within the circle; so that I neither saw nor heard as those
without might see and hear. They told a
tale of woe which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension; they were
tones loud, long, and deep; they breathed 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 spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness. I have frequently found myself in tears while
hearing them. The mere recurrence to
those songs, even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an
expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek. To those songs I trace my first glimmering
conception 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 the
soul-killing effects of slavery, let him go to Colonel Lloyd's plantation, and,
on allowance-day, place himself in the deep pine woods, and there let him, in
silence, 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."
I have often been utterly astonished, since I came to the
north, to find persons who could speak of the singing, among slaves, as
evidence of their contentment and happiness.
It is impossible to conceive of a greater mistake. Slaves sing most when they are most
unhappy. The songs of the slave
represent the sorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by them, only as an
aching heart is relieved by its tears.
At least, such is my experience.
I have often sung to drown my sorrow, but seldom to express my happiness.
Crying for joy, and singing for joy, were alike uncommon to me while in the jaws
of slavery. The singing of a man cast
away upon a desolate island might be as appropriately considered as evidence of
contentment and happiness, as the singing of a slave; the songs of the one and
of the other are prompted by the same emotion.
CHAPTER III
Colonel Lloyd kept a large and finely cultivated garden,
which afforded almost constant employment for four men, besides the chief
gardener, (Mr. M'Durmond.) This garden was probably the greatest
attraction of the place. During the
summer months, people came from far and near--from Baltimore, Easton, and
Annapolis--to see it. It abounded in
fruits of almost every description, from the hardy apple of the north to the
delicate orange of the south. This
garden was not the least source of trouble on the plantation. Its excellent fruit was quite a temptation to
the hungry swarms of boys, as well as the older slaves, belonging to the
colonel, few of whom had the virtue or the vice to resist it. Scarcely a day passed, during the summer, but
that some slave had to take the lash for stealing fruit. The colonel had to
resort to all kinds of stratagems to keep his slaves out of the garden. The last and most successful one was that of
tarring his fence all around; after which, if a slave was caught with any tar
upon his person, it was deemed sufficient proof that he had either been into
the garden, or had tried to get in. In
either case, he was severely whipped by the chief gardener. This plan worked well; the slaves became as
fearful of tar as of the lash. They seemed to realize the impossibility of
touching TAR without being defiled.
The colonel also kept a splendid riding equipage. His stable
and carriage-house presented the appearance of some of our large city livery
establishments. His horses were of the finest form and noblest blood. His
carriage-house contained three splendid coaches, three or four gigs, besides dearborns and barouches of the most fashionable style.
This establishment was under the care of two slaves--old Barney
and young Barney--father and son. To attend to this establishment was their
sole work. But it was by no means an easy employment; for in nothing was
Colonel Lloyd more particular than in the management of his horses. The slightest inattention to these was
unpardonable, and was visited upon those, under whose care they were placed,
with the severest punishment; no excuse could shield them, if the colonel only
suspected any want of attention to his horses--a supposition which he
frequently indulged, and one which, of course, made the office of old and young
Barney a very trying one. They never knew when they were safe from
punishment. They were frequently whipped
when least deserving, and escaped whipping when most deserving it. Every thing depended upon the looks of the
horses, and the state of Colonel Lloyd's own mind when his horses were brought
to him for use. If a horse did not move
fast enough, or hold his head high enough, it was owing to some fault of his
keepers. It was painful to stand near
the stable-door, and hear the various complaints against the keepers when a
horse was taken out for use. "This
horse has not had proper attention. He
has not been sufficiently rubbed and curried, or he has not been properly fed;
his food was too wet or too dry; he got it too soon or too late; he was too hot
or too cold; he had too much hay, and not enough of grain; or he had too much
grain, and not enough of hay; instead of old Barney's attending to the horse,
he had very improperly left it to his son." To all these complaints, no matter how
unjust, the slave must answer never a word.
Colonel Lloyd could not brook any contradiction from a slave. When he spoke, a slave must stand, listen,
and tremble; and such was literally the case.
I have seen Colonel Lloyd make old Barney, a man between fifty and sixty
years of age, uncover his bald head, kneel down upon the cold, damp ground, and
receive upon his naked and toil-worn shoulders more than thirty lashes at the
time. Colonel Lloyd had three
sons--Edward, Murray, and Daniel,--and three sons-in-law, Mr. Winder, Mr.
Nicholson, and Mr. Lowndes. All of these
lived at the Great House Farm, and enjoyed the luxury of whipping the servants
when they pleased, from old Barney down to William Wilkes, the coach-driver. I
have seen Winder make one of the house-servants stand off from him a suitable
distance to be touched with the end of his whip, and at every stroke raise
great ridges upon his back.
To describe the wealth of Colonel Lloyd would be almost
equal to describing the riches of Job.
He kept from ten to fifteen house-servants. He was said to own a thousand slaves, and I
think this estimate quite within the truth.
Colonel Lloyd owned so many that he did not know them when he saw them;
nor did all the slaves of the out-farms know him. It is reported of him, that, while riding
along the road one day, he met a colored man, and addressed him in the usual
manner of speaking to colored people on the public highways of the south:
"Well, boy, whom do you belong to?"
"To Colonel 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 you
enough to eat?" "Yes, sir, he
gives me enough, such as it is."
The colonel, after ascertaining where the slave belonged,
rode on; the man 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 death. This is the
penalty of telling the truth, 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
universally say they are contented, and that their masters are kind. The
slaveholders have been known to send in spies among their slaves, to ascertain
their views and feelings in regard to their condition. The frequency of this has 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 consequences of telling it, and in
so doing prove themselves a part of the human family. If they have any thing to say of their
masters, it is generally in their masters' favor, especially when speaking to
an untried man. I have been frequently
asked, when a slave, if I had a kind master, and do not remember ever to have
given a negative answer; nor did I, in pursuing this course, consider myself as
uttering what was absolutely false; for I always measured the kindness of my
master by the standard of kindness set up among slaveholders around us. Moreover, slaves are like other people, and
imbibe prejudices quite common to others.
They think their own 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 goodness of their
masters, each contending for the superior goodness of his own over that of the
others. At the very same time, they
mutually execrate their masters when viewed separately. It was so on our plantation. When Colonel
Lloyd's slaves met the slaves of Jacob Jepson, they seldom parted without a
quarrel about their masters; Colonel Lloyd's slaves contending that he was the
richest, and Mr. Jepson's slaves that he was the smartest, and most of a
man. Colonel Lloyd's slaves would boast
his ability to buy and sell Jacob Jepson.
Mr. Jepson's slaves would boast his ability to whip Colonel Lloyd. These quarrels would almost always end in a
fight between the parties, and those that whipped were supposed to have gained
the point at issue. They seemed to think
that the greatness of their masters was transferable to themselves. It was
considered as being bad enough to be a slave; but to be a poor man's slave was
deemed a disgrace indeed!
CHAPTER IV
Mr. Hopkins remained but a short time in the office of
overseer. Why his career was so short, I
do not know, but suppose he lacked the necessary severity to suit Colonel
Lloyd. Mr. Hopkins was succeeded by Mr.
Austin Gore, a man possessing, in an eminent degree, all those traits of
character indispensable to what is called a first-rate overseer. Mr. Gore had served Colonel Lloyd, in the
capacity of overseer, upon one of the out-farms, and had shown himself worthy
of the high station of overseer upon the home or Great House Farm.
Mr. Gore was proud, ambitious, and persevering. He was
artful, cruel, and obdurate. He was just
the man for such a place, and it was just the place for such a man. It afforded scope for the full exercise of
all his powers, and he seemed to be perfectly at home in it. He was one of those who could torture the
slightest look, word, or gesture, on the part of the slave, into impudence, and
would treat it accordingly. There must
be no answering back to him; no explanation was allowed a slave, showing
himself to have been wrongfully accused.
Mr. Gore acted fully up to the maxim laid down by slaveholders,-"It
is better that a dozen slaves should suffer under the lash, than that the
overseer should be convicted, in the presence of the slaves, of having been at
fault." No matter how innocent a slave might be--it availed him nothing,
when accused by Mr. Gore of any misdemeanor.
To be accused was to be convicted, and to be convicted was to be
punished; the one always following the other with immutable certainty. To
escape punishment was to escape accusation; and few slaves had the fortune to
do either, under the overseership of Mr. Gore. He was just proud enough to demand the most
debasing homage of the slave, and quite servile enough to crouch, himself, at
the feet of the master. He was ambitious
enough to be contented with nothing short of the highest rank of overseers, and
persevering enough to reach the height of his ambition. He was cruel enough to inflict the severest
punishment, artful enough to descend to the lowest trickery, and obdurate
enough to be insensible to the voice of a reproving conscience. He was, of all
the overseers, the most dreaded by the slaves.
His presence was painful; his eye flashed confusion; and seldom was his
sharp, shrill voice heard, without producing horror and trembling in their
ranks.
Mr. Gore was a grave man, and, though a young man, he
indulged in no jokes, said no funny words, seldom smiled. His words were in perfect keeping with his
looks, and his looks were in perfect keeping with his words. Overseers will sometimes indulge in a witty
word, even with the slaves; not so with Mr. Gore. He spoke but to command, and commanded but to
be obeyed; he dealt sparingly with his words, and bountifully with his whip,
never using the former where the latter would answer as well. When he whipped, he seemed to do so from a
sense of duty, and feared no consequences.
He did nothing reluctantly, no matter how disagreeable; always at his
post, never inconsistent. He never
promised but to fulfil. He was, in a word, a man of the most
inflexible firmness and stone-like coolness.
His savage barbarity was equalled
only by the consummate coolness with which he committed the grossest and most
savage deeds upon the slaves under his charge.
Mr. Gore once undertook to whip one of Colonel Lloyd's slaves, by the
name of Demby.
He had given Demby but few stripes, when, to
get rid of the scourging, he ran and plunged himself into a creek, and stood
there at the depth of his shoulders, refusing to come out. Mr. Gore told him that he would give him
three calls, and that, if he did not come out at the third call, he would shoot
him. The first call was given. Demby made no response, but stood his ground. The second and third calls were given with
the same result. Mr. Gore then, without
consultation or deliberation with any one, not even giving Demby
an additional call, raised his musket to his face, taking deadly aim at his
standing victim, and in an instant poor Demby was no
more. His mangled body sank out of
sight, and blood and brains marked the water where he had stood.
A thrill of horror flashed through every soul upon the
plantation, excepting Mr. Gore. He alone
seemed cool and collected. He was asked
by Colonel Lloyd and my old master, why he resorted to this extraordinary
expedient. His reply was, (as well as I
can remember,) that Demby had become
unmanageable. He was setting a dangerous
example to the other slaves,--one which, if suffered to pass without some such
demonstration on his part, would finally lead to the total subversion of all
rule and order upon the plantation. He
argued that if one slave refused to be corrected, and escaped with his life,
the other slaves would soon copy the example; the result of which would be, the
freedom of the slaves, and the enslavement of the whites. Mr. Gore's defence
was satisfactory. He was continued in
his station as overseer upon the home plantation. His fame as an overseer went abroad. His horrid crime was not even submitted to
judicial investigation. It was committed
in the presence of slaves, and they of course could neither institute a suit,
nor testify against him; and thus the guilty perpetrator of one of the
bloodiest and 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, Maryland, when I left there; and if he is still alive, he very
probably lives there now; and if so, he is now, as he was then, as highly
esteemed and as much respected as though his guilty soul had not been stained
with his brother's blood.
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, of St. Michael's, killed
two slaves, one of whom he killed 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."
The wife of Mr. Giles Hicks, living but a short distance
from where I used to live, murdered my wife's cousin, a young girl between
fifteen and sixteen years of age, mangling her person in the most horrible
manner, breaking her nose and breastbone with a stick, so that the poor girl
expired in a few hours afterward. She
was immediately buried, but had not been in her untimely grave but a few hours
before she was taken up and examined by the coroner, who decided that she had
come to her death by severe beating. The
offence for which this girl was thus murdered was this:--She had been set that
night to mind Mrs. Hicks's baby, and during the night
she fell asleep, and the baby cried.
She, having lost her rest for several nights previous, did not hear the
crying. They were both in the room with
Mrs. Hicks. Mrs. Hicks, finding the girl
slow to move, jumped from her bed, seized an oak stick of wood by the
fireplace, and with it broke the girl's nose and breastbone, and thus ended her
life. I will not say that this most
horrid murder produced no sensation in the community. It did produce sensation, but not enough to
bring the murderess to punishment. There
was a warrant issued for her arrest, but it was never served. Thus she escaped not only punishment, but
even the pain of being arraigned before a court for her horrid crime.
Whilst I am detailing bloody deeds which took place during
my stay on Colonel Lloyd's plantation, I will briefly narrate another, which
occurred about the same time as the murder of Demby
by Mr. Gore.
Colonel Lloyd's slaves were in the habit of spending a part
of their nights and Sundays in fishing for oysters, and in this way made up the
deficiency of their scanty allowance. An
old man belonging to Colonel Lloyd, while thus engaged, happened to get beyond
the limits of Colonel Lloyd's, and on the premises of Mr. Beal Bondly. At this
trespass, Mr. Bondly took offence, and with his
musket came down to the shore, and blew its deadly contents into the poor old
man.
Mr. Bondly came over to see
Colonel Lloyd the next day, whether to pay him for his property, or to justify
himself in what he had done, I know not. At any rate, this whole fiendish
transaction was soon hushed up. There
was very little said about it at all, and nothing done. It was a common saying, even among little
white boys, that it was worth a halfcent to kill a
"nigger," and a half-cent to bury one.
CHAPTER V
As to my own treatment while I lived on Colonel Lloyd's plantation,
it was very similar to that of the other slave children. I was not old enough to work in the field,
and there being little else than field work to do, I had a great deal of
leisure time. The most I had to do was
to drive up the cows at evening, keep the fowls out of the garden, keep the
front yard clean, and run of errands for my old master's daughter, Mrs. Lucretia Auld. The
most of my leisure time I spent in helping Master Daniel Lloyd in finding his
birds, after he had shot them. My connection
with Master Daniel was of some advantage to me.
He became quite attached to me, and was a sort of protector of me. He would not allow the older boys to impose
upon me, and would divide his cakes with me.
I was seldom whipped by my old master, and suffered little
from any thing else than hunger and cold.
I suffered much from hunger, but much more from cold. In hottest summer and coldest winter, I was
kept almost naked--no shoes, no stockings, no jacket, no trousers, nothing on
but a coarse tow linen shirt, reaching only to my knees. I had no bed.
I must have perished with cold, but that, the coldest nights, I used to
steal a bag which was used for carrying corn to the mill. I would crawl into this bag, and there sleep
on the cold, damp, clay floor, with my head in and feet out. My feet have been so cracked with the frost,
that the pen with which I am writing might be laid in the gashes.
We were not regularly allowanced. Our food was coarse corn meal boiled. This was called MUSH. It was put into a large wooden tray or
trough, and set down upon the ground.
The children were then called, like so many pigs, and like so many pigs
they would come and devour the mush; some with oystershells,
others with pieces of shingle, some with naked hands, and none with
spoons. He that ate fastest got most; he
that was strongest secured the best place; and few left the trough satisfied.
I was probably between seven and eight years old when I left
Colonel Lloyd's plantation. I left it
with joy. I shall never forget the
ecstasy with which I received the intelligence that my old master (Anthony) had
determined to let me go to Baltimore, to live with Mr. Hugh Auld, brother to my
old master's son-in-law, Captain Thomas Auld.
I received this information about three days before my departure. They were three of the happiest days I ever
enjoyed. I spent the most part of all
these three days in the creek, washing off the plantation scurf, and preparing
myself for my departure.
The pride of appearance which this would indicate was not my
own. I spent the time in washing, not so
much because I wished to, but because Mrs. Lucretia
had told me I must get all the dead skin off my feet and knees before I could
go to Baltimore; for the people in Baltimore were very cleanly, and would laugh
at me if I looked dirty. Besides, she
was going to give me a pair of trousers, which I should not put on unless I got
all the dirt off me. The thought of owning a pair of trousers was great indeed! It was almost a sufficient motive, not only
to make me take off what would be called by pigdrovers
the mange, but the skin itself. I went
at it in good earnest, working for the first time with the hope of reward.
The ties that ordinarily bind children to their homes were
all suspended in my case. I found no
severe trial in my departure. My home
was charmless; it was not home to me; on parting from
it, I could not feel that I was leaving any thing which I could have enjoyed by
staying. My mother was dead, my
grandmother lived far off, so that I seldom saw her. I had two sisters and one brother, that lived
in the same house with me; but the early separation of us from our mother had
well nigh blotted the fact of our relationship from our memories. I looked for home elsewhere, and was confident
of finding none which I should relish less than the one which I was
leaving. If, however, I found in my new
home hardship, hunger, whipping, and nakedness, I had the consolation that I
should not have escaped any one of them by staying. Having already had more than a taste of them
in the house of my old master, and having endured them there, I very naturally
inferred my ability to endure them elsewhere, and especially at Baltimore; for
I had something of the feeling about Baltimore that is expressed in the
proverb, that "being hanged in England is preferable to dying a natural
death in Ireland." I had the
strongest desire to see Baltimore.
Cousin Tom, though not fluent in speech, had inspired me with that
desire by his eloquent description of the place. I could never point out any thing at the
Great House, no matter how beautiful or powerful, but that he had seen
something at Baltimore far exceeding, both in beauty and strength, the object
which I pointed out to him. Even the
Great House itself, with all its pictures, was far inferior to many buildings
in Baltimore. So strong was my desire,
that I thought a gratification of it would fully compensate for whatever loss
of comforts I should sustain by the exchange.
I left without a regret, and with the highest hopes of future happiness.
We sailed out of Miles River for Baltimore 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 the
months of the year. On setting sail, I
walked aft, and gave to Colonel Lloyd's plantation what I hoped would be the
last look. I then placed myself in the
bows of the sloop, and there spent the remainder of the day in looking ahead,
interesting myself in what was in the distance rather than in things near by or
behind.
In the afternoon of that day, we reached Annapolis, the
capital of the State. We stopped but a
few moments, so that I had no time to go on shore. It was the first large town
that I had ever seen, and though it would look small compared with some of our
New England factory villages, I thought it a wonderful place for its size--more
imposing even than the Great House Farm!
We arrived at Baltimore early on Sunday morning, landing at
Smith's Wharf, not far from Bowley's Wharf. We had on board the sloop a large flock of
sheep; and after aiding in driving them to the slaughterhouse of Mr. Curtis on Louden Slater's Hill, I was conducted by Rich, one of the
hands belonging on board of the sloop, to my new home in Alliciana
Street, near Mr. Gardner's ship-yard, on Fells Point.
Mr. and Mrs. Auld were both at home, and met me at the door
with their little son Thomas, to take care of whom I had been given. And here I saw what I had never seen before;
it was a white face beaming with the most kindly emotions; it was the face of
my new mistress, Sophia Auld. I wish I
could describe the rapture that flashed through my soul as I beheld it. It was a new and strange sight to me,
brightening up my pathway with the light of happiness. Little Thomas was told, there was his Freddy,
--and I was told to take care of little Thomas; and thus I entered upon the
duties of my new home with the most cheering prospect ahead.
I look upon my departure from Colonel Lloyd's plantation as
one of the most interesting events of my life.
It is possible, and even quite probable, that but for the mere
circumstance of being removed from that plantation to Baltimore, I should have
to-day, instead of being here seated by my own table, in the enjoyment of
freedom and the happiness of home, writing this Narrative, been confined in the
galling chains of slavery. Going to live
at Baltimore laid the foundation, and opened the gateway, to all my subsequent
prosperity. I have ever regarded it as
the first plain manifestation of that kind providence which has ever since
attended me, and marked my life with so many favors. I regarded the selection of myself as being
somewhat remarkable. There were a number
of slave children that might have been sent from the plantation to Baltimore. There were those younger, those older, and
those of the same age. I was chosen from
among them all, and was the first, last, and only choice.
I may be deemed superstitious, and even egotistical, in
regarding this event as a special interposition of divine Providence in my
favor. But I should be false to the
earliest sentiments of my soul, if I suppressed the opinion. I prefer to be true to myself, even at the
hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false, and incur
my own abhorrence. From my earliest
recollection, I date the entertainment of a deep conviction that slavery would
not always be able to hold me within its foul embrace; and in the darkest hours
of my career in slavery, this living word of faith and spirit of hope departed
not from me, but remained like ministering angels to cheer me through the
gloom. This good spirit was from God,
and to him I offer thanksgiving and praise.
CHAPTER VI
My new mistress proved to be all she appeared when I first met her at the door,--a woman of the kindest heart and finest feelings. She had never had a slave under her control previously to myself, and prior to her marriage she had been dependent upon her own industry for a living. She was by trade a weaver; and by constant application to her business, she had been in a good degree preserved from the blighting and dehumanizing effects of slavery. I was utterly astonished at her goodness. I scarcely knew how to behave towards her.