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Narrative of the Life of

Frederick Douglass,

An American Slave.

Written by Himself.

Boston.

Published at the Anti-Slavery Office

No. 25 Cornhill

1845

ENTERED, ACCORDING TO ACT OF

CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1845 BY

FREDERICK DOUGLASS, IN THE

CLERK'S OFFICE OF THE DISTRICT

COURT OF MASSACHUSETTS.

PREFACE

In the month of August, 1841, I

attended an anti- slavery convention in

Nantucket, at which it was my happiness to

become acquainted with FREDERICK

DOUGLASS, the writer of the following

Narrative. He was a stranger to nearly every

member of that body; but, having recently

made his escape from the southern

prison-house of bondage, and feeling his

curiosity excited to ascertain the principles

and measures of the abolitionists,--of whom

he had heard a somewhat vague description

while he was a slave,--he was induced to give

his attendance, on the occasion alluded to,

though at that time a resident in New Bedford.

F o r t u n a t e , m o s t f o r t u n a t e

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," quick- ened 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

Page 2 of 63

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 New Bedford

prevailed on Mr. DOUGLASS to address the

convention: He came forward to the platform

with a hesitancy and embarrassment,

necessarily the attendants of a sensitive mind

in such a novel position. After apologizing

for his ignorance, and reminding the audience

that slavery was a poor school for the human

intellect and heart, he proceeded to narrate

some of the facts in his own history as a

slave, and in the course of his speech gave

utterance to many noble thoughts and

thrilling reflections. As soon as he had taken

his seat, filled with hope and admiration, I

rose, and declared that PATRICK HENRY,

of revolutionary fame, never made a speech

more eloquent in the cause of liberty, than the

one we had just listened to from the lips of

that hunted fugitive. So I believed at that

time--such is my belief now. I reminded the

audience of the peril which surrounded this

self- emancipated young man at the

North,--even in Massachusetts, on the soil of

the Pilgrim Fathers, among the descendants of

revolutionary sires; and I appealed to them,

whether they would ever allow him to be

carried back into slavery,--law or no law,

constitution or no constitution. The response

was unanimous and in thunder-tones--"NO!"

"Will you succor and protect him as a

brother-man--a resident of the old Bay State?"

"YES!" shouted the whole mass, with an

energy so startling, that the ruthless tyrants

south of Mason and Dixon's line might almost

have heard the mighty burst of feeling, and

recognized it as the pledge of an invincible

determination, on the part of those who gave

it, never to betray him that wanders, but to

hide the outcast, and firmly to abide the

consequences.

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

Page 3 of 63

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

Page 4 of 63

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 Maryland, in which State it is conceded

that they are better fed and less cruelly

treated than in Georgia, Alabama, or

Louisiana. Many have suffered incomparably

more, while very few on the plantations have

suffered less, than himself. Yet how

deplorable was his situation! what terrible

chastisements were inflicted upon his person!

what still more shocking outrages were

perpetrated upon his mind! with all his noble

powers and sublime aspirations, how like a

brute was he treated, even by those professing

to have the same mind in them that was in

Christ Jesus! to what dreadful liabilities was

he continually subjected! how destitute of

friendly counsel and aid, even in his greatest

extremities! how heavy was the midnight of

woe which shrouded in blackness the last ray

of hope, and filled the future with terror and

gloom! what longings after freedom took

possession of his breast, and how his misery

augmented, in proportion as he grew reflective

and intelligent,--thus demonstrating that a

happy slave is an extinct man! how he

thought, reasoned, felt, under the lash of the

driver, with the chains upon his limbs! what

perils he encountered in his endeavors to

escape from his horrible doom! and how

signal have been his deliverance and

preservation in the midst of a nation of pitiless

enemies!

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

Page 5 of 63

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

United States? Heaven speed its eternal

overthrow! 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, blood- hounds, 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

Page 6 of 63

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 slave- holder'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

UNION WITH SLAVEHOLDERS!"

WM. LLOYD GARRISON

BOSTON, May 1, 1845.

PREFACE BY WENDELL PHILIPPS

LETTER FROM WENDELL PHILLIPS,

ESQ.

BOSTON, APRIL 22, 1845.

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

Page 7 of 63

"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 West India experiment, before they could

come into our ranks. Those "results" have

come long ago; but, alas! few of that number

have come with them, as converts. A man

must be disposed to judge of emancipation by

other tests than whether it has increased the

produce of sugar,--and to hate slavery for

other reasons than because it starves men and

whips women,--before he is ready to lay the

first stone of his anti-slavery life.

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 half- free colored man of

Massachusetts is worse off than the pampered

slave of the rice swamps!

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 Massachusetts, for honest men

Page 8 of 63

to tell their names! They say the fathers, in

1776, signed the Declaration of Independence

with the halter about their necks. You, too,

publish your declaration of freedom with

danger compassing you around. In all the

broad lands which the Constitution of the

United States overshadows, there is no single

spot,--however narrow or desolate,--where a

fugitive slave can plant himself and say, "I

am safe." The whole armory of Northern Law

has no shield for you. I am free to say that, in

your place, I should throw the MS. into the

fire.

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

prison-house, 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~

Page 9 of 63

CHAPTER ONE

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, harvest-

time, 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 twenty- eight

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

Page 10 of 63

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

Page 11 of 63

overseer to affect him. He was a cruel man,

hardened by a long life of slave- holding. 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

Page 12 of 63

often occurred on the plantation.

CHAPTER TWO

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

Page 13 of 63

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

Page 14 of 63

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

Page 15 of 63

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 THREE

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

Page 16 of 63

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.

Page 17 of 63

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!

Page 18 of 63

CHAPTER FOUR

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

Page 19 of 63

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.

Page 20 of 63

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

half- cent to kill a "nigger," and a half-cent to

bury one.

CHAPTER FIVE

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

Page 21 of 63

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

oyster- shells, 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 pig- drovers 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

Page 22 of 63

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 Bow- ley'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

Page 23 of 63

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 SIX

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. She was entirely

unlike any other white woman I had ever seen.

I could not approach her as I was accustomed

to approach other white ladies. My early

instruction was all out of place. The crouching

servility, usually so acceptable a quality in a

slave, did not answer when manifested toward

her. Her favor was not gained by it; she

seemed to be disturbed by it. She did not deem

it impudent or unmannerly for a slave to look

her in the face. The meanest slave was put

fully at ease in her presence, and none left

without feeling better for having seen her. Her

face was made of heavenly smiles, and her

voice of tranquil music.

But, alas! this kind heart had but a

short time to remain such. The fatal poison of

irresponsible power was already in her hands,

and soon commenced its infernal work. That

cheerful eye, under the influence of slavery,

soon became red with rage; that voice, made

all of sweet accord, changed to one of harsh

and horrid discord; and that angelic face gave

place to that of a demon.

Very soon after I went to live with Mr.

and Mrs. Auld, she very kindly commenced to

teach me the A, B, C. After I had learned this,

she assisted me in learning to spell words of

three or four letters. Just at this point of my

progress, Mr. Auld found out what was going

on, and at once forbade Mrs. Auld to instruct

me further, telling her, among other things,

that it was unlawful, as well as unsafe, to

teach a slave to read. To use his own words,

further, he said, "If you give a nigger an inch,

he will take an ell. A nigger should know

Page 24 of 63

nothing but to obey his master--to do as he is

told to do. Learning would ~spoil~ the best

nigger in the world. Now," said he, "if you

teach that nigger (speaking of myself) how to

read, there would be no keeping him. It

would forever unfit him to be a slave. He

would at once become unmanageable, and of

no value to his master. As to himself, it could

do him no good, but a great deal of harm. It

would make him discontented and unhappy."

These words sank deep into my heart, stirred

up sentiments within that lay slumbering, and

called into existence an entirely new train of

thought. It was a new and special revelation,

explaining dark and mysterious things, with

which my youthful understanding had

struggled, but struggled in vain. I now

understood what had been to me a most

perplexing difficulty--to wit, the white man's

power to enslave the black man. It was a

grand achievement, and I prized it highly.

From that moment, I understood the pathway

from slavery to freedom. It was just what I

wanted, and I got it at a time when I the least

expected it. Whilst I was saddened by the

thought of losing the aid of my kind mistress,

I was gladdened by the invaluable instruction

which, by the merest accident, I had gained

from my master. Though conscious of the

difficulty of learning without a teacher, I set

out with high hope, and a fixed purpose, at

whatever cost of trouble, to learn how to

read. The very decided manner with which he

spoke, and strove to impress his wife with the

evil consequences of giving me instruction,

served to convince me that he was deeply

sensible of the truths he was uttering. It gave

me the best assurance that I might rely with

the utmost confidence on the results which,

he said, would flow from teaching me to

read. What he most dreaded, that I most

desired. What he most loved, that I most

hated. That which to him was a great evil, to

be carefully shunned, was to me a great good,

to be diligently sought; and the argument

which he so warmly urged, against my

learning to read, only served to inspire me

with a desire and determination to learn. In

learning to read, I owe almost as much to the

bitter opposition of my master, as to the kindly

aid of my mistress. I acknowledge the benefit

of both.

I had resided but a short time in

Baltimore before I observed a marked

difference, in the treatment of slaves, from

that which I had witnessed in the country. A

city slave is almost a freeman, compared with

a slave on the plantation. He is much better

fed and clothed, and enjoys privileges

altogether unknown to the slave on the

plantation. There is a vestige of decency, a

sense of shame, that does much to curb and

check those outbreaks of atrocious cruelty so

commonly enacted upon the plantation. He is

a desperate slaveholder, who will shock the

humanity of his non-slaveholding neighbors

with the cries of his lacerated slave. Few are

willing to incur the odium attaching to the

reputation of being a cruel master; and above

all things, they would not be known as not

giving a slave enough to eat. Every city slave-

holder is anxious to have it known of him, that

he feeds his slaves well; and it is due to them

to say, that most of them do give their slaves

enough to eat. There are, however, some

painful exceptions to this rule. Directly

opposite to us, on Philpot Street, lived Mr.

Thomas Hamilton. He owned two slaves.

Their names were Henrietta and Mary.

Henrietta was about twenty-two years of age,

Mary was about fourteen; and of all the

mangled and emaciated creatures I ever

looked upon, these two were the most so. His

heart must be harder than stone, that could

look upon these unmoved. The head, neck,

and shoulders of Mary were literally cut to

Page 25 of 63

pieces. I have frequently felt her head, and

found it nearly covered with festering sores,

caused by the lash of her cruel mistress. I do

not know that her master ever whipped her,

but I have been an eye-witness to the cruelty

of Mrs. Hamilton. I used to be in Mr.

Hamilton's house nearly every day. Mrs.

Hamilton used to sit in a large chair in the

middle of the room, with a heavy cowskin

always by her side, and scarce an hour passed

during the day but was marked by the blood

of one of these slaves. The girls seldom

passed her without her saying, "Move faster,

you ~black gip!~" at the same time giving

them a blow with the cowskin over the head

or shoulders, often drawing the blood. She

would then say, "Take that, you ~black

gip!~" continuing, "If you don't move faster,

I'll move you!" Added to the cruel lashings to

which these slaves were subjected, they were

kept nearly half-starved. They seldom knew

what it was to eat a full meal. I have seen

Mary contending with the pigs for the offal

thrown into the street. So much was Mary

kicked and cut to pieces, that she was oftener

called "~pecked~" than by her name.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I lived in Master Hugh's family about

seven years. During this time, I succeeded in

learning to read and write. In accomplishing

this, I was compelled to resort to various

stratagems. I had no regular teacher. My

mistress, who had kindly commenced to

instruct me, had, in compliance with the

advice and direction of her husband, not only

ceased to instruct, but had set her face against

my being instructed by any one else. It is due,

however, to my mistress to say of her, that she

did not adopt this course of treatment

immediately. She at first lacked the depravity

indispensable to shutting me up in mental

darkness. It was at least necessary for her to

have some training in the exercise of

irresponsible power, to make her equal to the

task of treating me as though I were a brute.

My mistress was, as I have said, a kind

and tender- hearted woman; and in the

simplicity of her soul she commenced, when

I first went to live with her, to treat me as she

supposed one human being ought to treat

another. In entering upon the duties of a

slaveholder, she did not seem to perceive that

I sustained to her the relation of a mere

chattel, and that for her to treat me as a human

being was not only wrong, but dangerously so.

Slavery proved as injurious to her as it did to

me. When I went there, she was a pious,

warm, and tender-hearted woman. There was

no sorrow or suffering for which she had not

a tear. 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

heavenly qualities. Under its influence, the

tender heart became stone, and the lamblike

disposition gave way to one of tiger-like

Page 26 of 63

fierceness. The first step in her downward

course was in her ceasing to instruct me. She

now commenced to practise her husband's

precepts. She finally became even more

violent in her opposition than her husband

himself. She was not satisfied with simply

doing as well as he had commanded; she

seemed anxious to do better. Nothing seemed

to make her more angry than to see me with

a newspaper. She seemed to think that here

lay the danger. I have had her rush at me with

a face made all up of fury, and snatch from

me a newspaper, in a manner that fully

revealed her apprehension. She was an apt

woman; and a little experience soon

demonstrated, to her satisfaction, that

education and slavery were incompatible

with each other.

From this time I was most narrowly

watched. If I was in a separate room any

considerable length of time, I was sure to be

suspected of having a book, and was at once

called to give an account of myself. All this,

however, was too late. The first step had been

taken. Mistress, in teaching me the alphabet,

had given me the ~inch,~ and no precaution

could prevent me from taking the ~ell.~

The plan which I adopted, and the one

by which I was most successful, was that of

making friends of all the little white boys

whom I met in the street. As many of these as

I could, I converted into teachers. With their

kindly aid, obtained at different times and in

different places, I finally succeeded in

learning to read. When I was sent of errands,

I always took my book with me, and by going

one part of my errand quickly, I found time to

get a lesson before my return. I used also to

carry bread with me, enough of which was

always in the house, and to which I was

always welcome; for I was much better off in

this regard than many of the poor white

children in our neighborhood. This bread I

used to bestow upon the hungry little urchins,

who, in return, would give me that more

valuable bread of knowledge. I am strongly

tempted to give the names of two or three of

those little boys, as a testimonial of the

gratitude and affection I bear them; but

prudence forbids;--not that it would injure me,

but it might embarrass them; for it is almost

an unpardonable offence to teach slaves to

read in this Christian country. It is enough to

say of the dear little fellows, that they lived on

Philpot Street, very near Durgin and Bailey's

ship-yard. I used to talk this matter of slavery

over with them. I would sometimes say to

them, I wished I could be as free as they

would be when they got to be men. "You will

be free as soon as you are twenty-one, ~but I

am a slave for life!~ Have not I as good a right

to be free as you have?" These words used to

trouble them; they would express for me the

liveliest sympathy, and console me with the

hope that something would occur by which I

might be free.

I was now about twelve years old, and

the thought of being ~a slave for life~ began

to bear heavily upon my heart. Just about this

time, I got hold of a book entitled "The

Columbian Orator." Every opportunity I got,

I used to read this book. Among much of other

interesting matter, I found in it a dialogue

between a master and his slave. The slave was

represented as having run away from his

master three times. The dialogue represented

the conversation which took place between

them, when the slave was retaken the third

time. In this dialogue, the whole argument in

behalf of slavery was brought forward by the

master, all of which was disposed of by the

slave. The slave was made to say some very

smart as well as impressive things in reply to

his master-- things which had the desired

though unexpected effect; for the conversation

resulted in the voluntary emancipation of the

Page 27 of 63

slave on the part of the master.

In the same book, I met with one of

Sheridan's mighty speeches on and in behalf

of Catholic emancipation. These were choice

documents to me. I read them over and over

again with unabated interest. They gave

tongue to interesting thoughts of my own

soul, which had frequently flashed through

my mind, and died away for want of

utterance. The moral which I gained from the

dialogue was the power of truth over the

conscience of even a slaveholder. What I got

from Sheridan was a bold denunciation of

slavery, and a powerful vindication of human

rights. The reading of these documents

enabled me to utter my thoughts, and to meet

the arguments brought forward to sustain

slavery; but while they relieved me of one

difficulty, they brought on another even more

painful than the one of which I was relieved.

The more I read, the more I was led to abhor

and detest my enslavers. I could regard them

in no other light than a band of successful

robbers, who had left their homes, and gone

to Africa, and stolen us from our homes, and

in a strange land reduced us to slavery. I

loathed them as being the meanest as well as

the most wicked of men. As I read and

contemplated the subject, behold! that very

discontentment which Master Hugh had

predicted would follow my learning to read

had already come, to torment and sting my

soul to unutterable anguish. As I writhed

under it, I would at times feel that learning to

read had been a curse rather than a blessing.

It had given me a view of my wretched

condition, without the remedy. It opened my

eyes to the horrible pit, but to no ladder upon

which to get out. In moments of agony, I

envied my fellow-slaves for their stupidity. I

have often wished myself a beast. I preferred

the condition of the meanest reptile to my

own. Any thing, no matter what, to get rid of

thinking! It was this everlasting thinking of

my condition that tormented me. There was no

getting rid of it. It was pressed upon me by

every object within sight or hearing, animate

or inanimate. The silver trump of freedom had

roused my soul to eternal wakefulness.

Freedom now appeared, to disappear no more

forever. It was heard in every sound, and seen

in every thing. It was ever present to torment

me with a sense of my wretched condition. I

saw nothing without seeing it, I heard nothing

without hearing it, and felt nothing without

feeling it. It looked from every star, it smiled

in every calm, breathed in every wind, and

moved in every storm.

I often found myself regretting my

own existence, and wishing myself dead; and

but for the hope of being free, I have no doubt

but that I should have killed myself, or done

something for which I should have been

killed. While in this state of mind, I was eager

to hear any one speak of slavery. I was a ready

listener. Every little while, I could hear

something about the abolitionists. It was some

time before I found what the word meant. It

was always used in such connections as to

make it an interesting word to me. If a slave

ran away and succeeded in getting clear, or if

a slave killed his master, set fire to a barn, or

did any thing very wrong in the mind of a

slaveholder, it was spoken of as the fruit of

~abolition.~ Hearing the word in this

connection very often, I set about learning

what it meant. The dictionary afforded me

little or no help. I found it was "the act of

abolishing;" but then I did not know what was

to be abolished. Here I was perplexed. I did

not dare to ask any one about its meaning, for

I was satisfied that it was something they

wanted me to know very little about. After a

patient waiting, I got one of our city papers,

containing an account of the number of

petitions from the north, praying for the

Page 28 of 63

abolition of slavery in the District of

Columbia, and of the slave trade between the

States. From this time I understood the words

~abolition~ and ~abolitionist,~ and always

drew near when that word was spoken,

expecting to hear something of importance to

myself and fellow-slaves. The light broke in

upon me by degrees. I went one day down on

the wharf of Mr. Waters; and seeing two

Irishmen unloading a scow of stone, I went,

unasked, and helped them. When we had

finished, one of them came to me and asked

me if I were a slave. I told him I was. He

asked, "Are ye a slave for life?" I told him

that I was. The good Irishman seemed to be

deeply affected by the statement. He said to

the other that it was a pity so fine a little

fellow as myself should be a slave for life.

He said it was a shame to hold me. They both

advised me to run away to the north; that I

should find friends there, and that I should be

free. I pretended not to be interested in what

they said, and treated them as if I did not

understand them; for I feared they might be

treacherous. White men have been known to

encourage slaves to escape, and then, to get

the reward, catch them and return them to

their masters. I was afraid that these

seemingly good men might use me so; but I

nevertheless remembered their advice, and

from that time I resolved to run away. I

looked forward to a time at which it would be

safe for me to escape. I was too young to

think of doing so immediately; besides, I

wished to learn how to write, as I might have

occasion to write my own pass. I consoled

myself with the hope that I should one day

find a good chance. Meanwhile, I would

learn to write.

The idea as to how I might learn to

write was suggested to me by being in Durgin

and Bailey's ship-yard, and frequently seeing

the ship carpenters, after hewing, and getting

a piece of timber ready for use, write on the

timber the name of that part of the ship for

which it was intended. When a piece of timber

was intended for the larboard side, it would be

marked thus--"L." When a piece was for the

starboard side, it would be marked thus--"S."

A piece for the larboard side forward, would

be marked thus--"L. F." When a piece was for

starboard side forward, it would be marked

thus--"S. F." For larboard aft, it would be

marked thus--"L. A." For starboard aft, it

would be marked thus--"S. A." I soon learned

the names of these letters, and for what they

were intended when placed upon a piece of

timber in the ship-yard. I immediately

commenced copying them, and in a short time

was able to make the four letters named. After

that, when I met with any boy who I knew

could write, I would tell him I could write as

well as he. The next word would be, "I don't

believe you. Let me see you try it." I would

then make the letters which I had been so

fortunate as to learn, and ask him to beat that.

In this way I got a good many lessons in

writing, which it is quite possible I should

never have gotten in any other way. During

this time, my copy-book was the board fence,

brick wall, and pavement; my pen and ink was

a lump of chalk. With these, I learned mainly

how to write. I then commenced and

continued copying the Italics in Webster's

Spelling Book, until I could make them all

without looking on the book. By this time, my

little Master Thomas had gone to school, and

learned how to write, and had written over a

number of copy-books. These had been

brought home, and shown to some of our near

neighbors, and then laid aside. My mistress

used to go to class meeting at the Wilk Street

meetinghouse every Monday afternoon, and

leave me to take care of the house. When left

thus, I used to spend the time in writing in the

spaces left in Master Thomas's copy-book,

Page 29 of 63

copying what he had written. I continued to

do this until I could write a hand very similar

to that of Master Thomas. Thus, after a long,

tedious effort for years, I finally succeeded in

learning how to write.

CHAPTER EIGHT

In a very short time after I went to

live at Baltimore, my old master's youngest

son Richard died; and in about three years

and six months after his death, my old

master, Captain Anthony, died, leaving only

his son, Andrew, and daughter, Lucretia, to

share his estate. He died while on a visit to

see his daughter at Hillsborough. Cut off thus

unexpectedly, he left no will as to the

disposal of his property. It was therefore

necessary to have a valuation of the property,

that it might be equally divided between Mrs.

Lucretia and Master Andrew. I was

immediately sent for, to be valued with the

other property. Here again my feelings rose

up in detestation of slavery. I had now a new

conception of my degraded condition. Prior

to this, I had become, if not insensible to my

lot, at least partly so. I left Baltimore with a

young heart overborne with sadness, and a

soul full of apprehension. I took passage with

Captain Rowe, in the schooner Wild Cat, and,

after a sail of about twenty-four hours, I found

myself near the place of my birth. I had now

been absent from it almost, if not quite, five

years. I, however, remembered the place very

well. I was only about five years old when I

left it, to go and live with my old master on

Colonel Lloyd's plantation; so that I was now

between ten and eleven years old.

We were all ranked together at the

valuation. Men and women, old and young,

married and single, were ranked with horses,

sheep, and swine. There were horses and men,

cattle and women, pigs and children, all

holding the same rank in the scale of being,

and were all subjected to the same narrow

examination. Silvery-headed age and sprightly

youth, maids and matrons, had to undergo the

same indelicate inspection. At this moment, I

saw more clearly than ever the brutalizing

effects of slavery upon both slave and

slaveholder.

After the valuation, then came the

division. I have no language to express the

high excitement and deep anxiety which were

felt among us poor slaves during this time.

Our fate for life was now to be decided. we

had no more voice in that decision than the

brutes among whom we were ranked. A single

word from the white men was enough--against

all our wishes, prayers, and entreaties--to

sunder forever the dearest friends, dearest

kindred, and strongest ties known to human

beings. In addition to the pain of separation,

there was the horrid dread of falling into the

hands of Master Andrew. He was known to us

all as being a most cruel wretch,--a common

drunkard, who had, by his reckless

mismanagement and profligate dissipation,

Page 30 of 63

already wasted a large portion of his father's

property. We all felt that we might as well be

sold at once to the Georgia traders, as to pass

into his hands; for we knew that that would

be our inevitable condition,--a condition held

by us all in the utmost horror and dread.

I suffered more anxiety than most of

my fellow- slaves. I had known what it was

to be kindly treated; they had known nothing

of the kind. They had seen little or nothing of

the world. They were in very deed men and

women of sorrow, and acquainted with grief.

Their backs had been made familiar with the

bloody lash, so that they had become callous;

mine was yet tender; for while at Baltimore I

got few whippings, and few slaves could

boast of a kinder master and mistress than

myself; and the thought of passing out of

their hands into those of Master Andrew-- a

man who, but a few days before, to give me

a sample of his bloody disposition, took my

little brother by the throat, threw him on the

ground, and with the heel of his boot stamped

upon his head till the blood gushed from his

nose and ears--was well calculated to make

me anxious as to my fate. After he had

committed this savage outrage upon my

brother, he turned to me, and said that was

the way he meant to serve me one of these

days,--meaning, I suppose, when I came into

his possession.

Thanks to a kind Providence, I fell to

the portion of Mrs. Lucretia, and was sent

immediately back to Baltimore, to live again

in the family of Master Hugh. Their joy at my

return equalled their sorrow at my departure.

It was a glad day to me. I had escaped a

worse than lion's jaws. I was absent from

Baltimore, for the purpose of valuation and

division, just about one month, and it seemed

to have been six.

Very soon after my return to

Baltimore, my mistress, Lucretia, died,

leaving her husband and one child, Amanda;

and in a very short time after her death, Master

Andrew died. Now all the property of my old

master, slaves included, was in the hands of

strangers,--strangers who had had nothing to

do with accumulating it. Not a slave was left

free. All remained slaves, from the youngest

to the 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

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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,--

"Gone, gone, sold and gone

To the rice swamp dank and lone,

Where the slave-whip ceaseless

swings,

Where the noisome insect stings,

Where the fever-demon strews

Poison with the falling dews,

Where the sickly sunbeams glare

Through the hot and misty air:--

Gone, gone, sold and gone

To the rice swamp dank and lone,

From Virginia hills and waters--

Woe is me, my stolen daughters!"

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 towards 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. She stands-- she sits--she

staggers--she falls--she groans--she dies --and

there are none of her children or

grandchildren present, to wipe from her

wrinkled brow the cold sweat of death, or to

place beneath the sod her fallen remains. Will

not a righteous God visit for these things?

In about two years after the death of

Mrs. Lucretia, Master Thomas married his

second wife. Her name was Rowena

Hamilton. She was the eldest daughter of Mr.

William Hamilton. Master now lived in St.

Michael's. Not long after his marriage, a

misunderstanding took place between himself

and Master Hugh; and as a means of

punishing his brother, he took me from him to

live with himself at St. Michael's. Here I

underwent another most painful separation. It,

however, was not so severe as the one I

dreaded at the division of property; for, during

this interval, a great change had taken place in

Master Hugh and his once kind and

affectionate wife. The influence of brandy

upon him, and of slavery upon her, had

effected a disastrous change in the characters

of both; so that, as far as they were concerned,

I thought I had little to lose by the change. But

it was not to them that I was attached. It was

to those little Baltimore boys that I felt the

strongest attachment. I had received many

good lessons from them, and was still

receiving them, and the thought of leaving

them was painful indeed. I was leaving, too,

without the hope of ever being allowed to

return. Master Thomas had said he would

never let me return again. The barrier betwixt

himself and brother he considered impassable.

I then had to regret that I did not at

least make the attempt to carry out my

resolution to run away; for the chances of

success are tenfold greater from the city than

from the country.

I sailed from Baltimore for St.

Michael's in the sloop Amanda, Captain

Edward Dodson. On my passage, I paid

particular attention to the direction which the

steamboats took to go to Philadelphia. I found,

Page 32 of 63

instead of going down, on reaching North

Point they went up the bay, in a

north-easterly direction. I deemed this

knowledge of the utmost importance. My

determination to run away was again revived.

I resolved to wait only so long as the offering

of a favorable opportunity. When that came,

I was determined to be off.

CHAPTER NINE

I have now reached a period of my

life when I can give dates. I left Baltimore,

and went to live with Master Thomas Auld, at

St. Michael's, in March, 1832. It was now

more than seven years since I lived with him

in the family of my old master, on Colonel

Lloyd's plantation. We of course were now

almost entire strangers to each other. He was

to me a new master, and I to him a new slave.

I was ignorant of his temper and disposition;

he was equally so of mine. A very short time,

however, brought us into full acquaintance

with each other. I was made acquainted with

his wife not less than with himself. They were

well matched, being equally mean and cruel.

I was now, for the first time during a space of

more than seven years, made to feel the

painful gnawings of hunger--a something

which I had not experienced before since I left

Colonel Lloyd's plantation. It went hard

enough with me then, when I could look back

to no period at which I had enjoyed a

sufficiency. It was tenfold harder after living

in Master Hugh's family, where I had always

had enough to eat, and of that which was

good. I have said Master Thomas was a mean

man. He was so. Not to give a slave enough to

eat, is regarded as the most aggravated

development of meanness even among

slaveholders. 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

from which I came, it is the general

practice,--though there are many exceptions.

Master Thomas gave us enough of neither

coarse nor fine food. There were four slaves of

us in the kitchen--my sister Eliza, my aunt

Priscilla, Henny, and myself; and we were

allowed less than a half of a bushel of

corn-meal per week, and very little else, either

in the shape of meat or vegetables. It was not

enough for us to subsist upon. We were

therefore reduced to the wretched necessity of

living at the expense of our neighbors. This

Page 33 of 63

we did by begging and stealing, whichever

came handy in the time of need, the one

being considered as legitimate as the other. A

great many times have we poor creatures

been nearly perishing with hunger, when

food in abundance lay mouldering in the safe

and smoke-house, and our pious mistress was

aware of the fact; and yet that mistress and

her husband would kneel every morning, and

pray that God would bless them in basket and

store!

Bad as all slaveholders are, we

seldom meet one destitute of every element

of character commanding respect. My master

was one of this rare sort. I do not know of

one single noble act ever performed by him.

The leading trait in his character was

meanness; and if there were any other

element in his nature, it was made subject to

this. He was mean; and, like most other mean

men, he lacked the ability to conceal his

meanness. Captain Auld was not born a

slaveholder. He had been a poor man, master

only of a Bay craft. He came into possession

of all his slaves by marriage; and of all men,

adopted slave-holders are the worst. He was

cruel, but cowardly. He commanded without

firmness. In the enforcement of his rules, he

was at times rigid, and at times lax. At times,

he spoke to his slaves with the firmness of

Napoleon and the fury of a demon; at other

times, he might well be mistaken for an

inquirer who had lost his way. He did nothing

of himself. He might have passed for a lion,

but for his ears. In all things noble which he

attempted, his own meanness shone most

conspicuous. His airs, words, and actions,

were the airs, words, and actions of born

slave- holders, and, being assumed, were

awkward enough. He was not even a good

imitator. He possessed all the disposition to

deceive, but wanted the power. Having no

resources within himself, he was compelled

to be the copyist of many, and being such, he

was forever the victim of inconsistency; and

of consequence he was an object of contempt,

and was held as such even by his slaves. The

luxury of having slaves of his own to wait

upon him was something new and unprepared

for. He was a slaveholder without the ability

to hold slaves. He found himself incapable of

managing his slaves either by force, fear, or

fraud. We seldom called him "master;" we

generally called him "Captain Auld," and were

hardly disposed to title him at all. I doubt not

that our conduct had much to do with making

him appear awkward, and of consequence

fretful. Our want of reverence for him must

have perplexed him greatly. He wished to

have us call him master, but lacked the

firmness necessary to command us to do so.

His wife used to insist upon our calling him

so, but to no purpose. In August, 1832, my

master attended a Methodist camp-meeting

held in the Bay-side, Talbot county, and there

experienced religion. I indulged a faint hope

that his conversion would lead him to

emancipate his slaves, and that, if he did not

do this, it would, at any rate, make him more

kind and humane. I was disappointed in both

these respects. It neither made him to be

humane to his slaves, nor to emancipate them.

If it had any effect on his character, it made

him more cruel and hateful in all his ways; for

I believe him to have been a much worse man

after his conversion than before. Prior to his

conversion, he relied upon his own depravity

to shield and sustain him in his savage

barbarity; but after his conversion, he found

religious sanction and support for his

slaveholding cruelty. He made the greatest

pretensions to piety. His house was the house

of prayer. He prayed morning, noon, and

night. He very soon distinguished himself

among his brethren, and was soon made a

class-leader and exhorter. His activity in

Page 34 of 63

revivals was great, and he proved himself an

instrument in the hands of the church in

converting many souls. His house was the

preachers' home. They used to take great

pleasure in coming there to put up; for while

he starved us, he stuffed them. We have had

three or four preachers there at a time. The

names of those who used to come most

frequently while I lived there, were Mr.

Storks, Mr. Ewery, Mr. Humphry, and Mr.

Hickey. I have also seen Mr. George

Cookman at our house. We slaves loved Mr.

Cookman. We believed him to be a good

man. We thought him instrumental in getting

Mr. Samuel Harrison, a very rich slaveholder,

to emancipate his slaves; and by some means

got the impression that he was laboring to

effect the emancipation of all the slaves.

When he was at our house, we were sure to

be called in to prayers. When the others were

there, we were sometimes called in and

sometimes not. Mr. Cookman took more

notice of us than either of the other ministers.

He could not come among us without

betraying his sympathy for us, and, stupid as

we were, we had the sagacity to see it.

While I lived with my master in St.

Michael's, there was a white young man, a

Mr. Wilson, who proposed to keep a Sabbath

school for the instruction of such slaves as

might be disposed to learn to read the New

Testament. We met but three times, when

Mr. West and Mr. Fairbanks, both

class-leaders, with many others, came upon

us with sticks and other missiles, drove us

off, and forbade us to meet again. Thus ended

our little Sabbath school in the pious town of

St. Michael's.

I have said my master found religious

sanction for his cruelty. As an example, I will

state one of many facts going to prove the

charge. I have seen him tie up a lame young

woman, and whip her with a heavy cowskin

upon her naked shoulders, causing the warm

red blood to drip; and, in justification of the

bloody deed, he would quote this passage of

Scripture--"He that knoweth his master's will,

and doeth it not, shall be beaten with many

stripes."

Master would keep this lacerated

young woman tied up in this horrid situation

four or five hours at a time. I have known him

to tie her up early in the morning, and whip

her before breakfast; leave her, go to his store,

return at dinner, and whip her again, cutting

her in the places already made raw with his

cruel lash. The secret of master's cruelty

toward "Henny" is found in the fact of her

being almost helpless. When quite a child, she

fell into the fire, and burned herself horribly.

Her hands were so burnt that she never got the

use of them. She could do very little but bear

heavy burdens. She was to master a bill of

expense; and as he was a mean man, she was

a constant offence to him. He seemed desirous

of getting the poor girl out of existence. He

gave her away once to his sister; but, being a

poor gift, she was not disposed to keep her.

Finally, my benevolent master, to use his own

words, "set her adrift to take care of herself."

Here was a recently-converted man, holding

on upon the mother, and at the same time

turning out her helpless child, to starve and

die! Master Thomas was one of the many

pious slaveholders who hold slaves for the

very charitable purpose of taking care of them.

My master and myself had quite a

number of differences. He found me

unsuitable to his purpose. My city life, he said,

had had a very pernicious effect upon me. It

had almost ruined me for every good purpose,

and fitted me for every thing which was bad.

One of my greatest faults was that of letting

his horse run away, and go down to his

father-in- law's farm, which was about five

miles from St. Michael's. I would then have to

Page 35 of 63

go after it. My reason for this kind of

carelessness, or carefulness, was, that I could

always get something to eat when I went

there. Master William Hamilton, my master's

father-in-law, always gave his slaves enough

to eat. I never left there hungry, no matter

how great the need of my speedy return.

Master Thomas at length said he would stand

it no longer. I had lived with him nine

months, during which time he had given me

a number of severe whippings, all to no good

purpose. He resolved to put me out, as he

said, to be broken; and, for this purpose, he

let me for one year to a man named Edward

Covey. Mr. Covey was a poor man, a

farm-renter. He rented the place upon which

he lived, as also the hands with which he

tilled it. Mr. Covey had acquired a very high

reputation for breaking young slaves, and this

reputation was of immense value to him. It

enabled him to get his farm tilled with much

less expense to himself than he could have

had it done without such a reputation. Some

slaveholders thought it not much loss to

allow Mr. Covey to have their slaves one

year, for the sake of the training to which

they were subjected, without any other

compensation. He could hire young help with

great ease, in consequence of this reputation.

Added to the natural good qualities of Mr.

Covey, he was a professor of religion--a

pious soul--a member and a class-leader in

the Methodist church. All of this added

w e i g h t t o h i s r e p u t a t i o n a s a

"nigger-breaker." I was aware of all the facts,

having been made acquainted with them by a

young man who had lived there. I

nevertheless made the change gladly; for I

was sure of getting enough to eat, which is

not the smallest consideration to a hungry

man.

Page 36 of 63

CHAPTER TEN

I had left Master Thomas's house, and

went to live with Mr. Covey, on the 1st of

January, 1833. I was now, for the first time in

my life, a field hand. In my new employment,

I found myself even more awkward than a

country boy appeared to be in a large city. I

had been at my new home but one week

before Mr. Covey gave me a very severe

whipping, cutting my back, causing the blood

to run, and raising ridges on my flesh as large

as my little finger. The details of this affair

are as follows: Mr. Covey sent me, very early

in the morning of one of our coldest days in

the month of January, to the woods, to get a

load of wood. He gave me a team of

unbroken oxen. He told me which was the

in-hand ox, and which the off-hand one. He

then tied the end of a large rope around the

horns of the in-hand ox, and gave me the

other end of it, and told me, if the oxen

started to run, that I must hold on upon the

rope. I had never driven oxen before, and of

course I was very awkward. I, however,

succeeded in getting to the edge of the woods

with little difficulty; but I had got a very few

rods into the woods, when the oxen took

fright, and started full tilt, carrying the cart

against trees, and over stumps, in the most

frightful manner. I expected every moment

that my brains would be dashed out against

the trees. After running thus for a

considerable distance, they finally upset the

cart, dashing it with great force against a tree,

and threw themselves into a dense thicket.

How I escaped death, I do not know. There I

was, entirely alone, in a thick wood, in a place

new to me. My cart was upset and shattered,

my oxen were entangled among the young

trees, and there was none to help me. After a

long spell of effort, I succeeded in getting my

cart righted, my oxen disentangled, and again

yoked to the cart. I now proceeded with my

team to the place where I had, the day before,

been chopping wood, and loaded my cart

pretty heavily, thinking in this way to tame my

oxen. I then proceeded on my way home. I had

now consumed one half of the day. I got out of

the woods safely, and now felt out of danger.

I stopped my oxen to open the woods gate;

and just as I did so, before I could get hold of

my oxrope, the oxen again started, rushed

through the gate, catching it between the

wheel and the body of the cart, tearing it to

pieces, and coming within a few inches of

crushing me against the gate-post. Thus twice,

in one short day, I escaped death by the merest

chance. On my return, I told Mr. Covey what

had happened, and how it happened. He

ordered me to return to the woods again

immediately. I did so, and he followed on after

me. Just as I got into the woods, he came up

and told me to stop my cart, and that he would

teach me how to trifle away my time, and

break gates. He then went to a large gum-tree,

and with his axe cut three large switches, and,

after trimming them up neatly with his

pocket-knife, he ordered me to take off my

clothes. I made him no answer, but stood with

my clothes on. He repeated his order. I still

made him no answer, nor did I move to strip

myself. Upon this he rushed at me with the

fierceness of a tiger, tore off my clothes, and

lashed me till he had worn out his switches,

cutting me so savagely as to leave the marks

visible for a long time after. This whipping

Page 37 of 63

was the first of a number just like it, and for

similar offences.

I lived with Mr. Covey one year.

During the first six months, of that year,

scarce a week passed without his whipping

me. I was seldom free from a sore back. My

awkwardness was almost always his excuse

for whipping me. We were worked fully up

to the point of endurance. Long before day

we were up, our horses fed, and by the first

approach of day we were off to the field with

our hoes and ploughing teams. Mr. Covey

gave us enough to eat, but scarce time to eat

it. We were often less than five minutes

taking our meals. We were often in the field

from the first approach of day till its last

lingering ray had left us; and at saving-fodder

time, midnight often caught us in the field

binding blades.

Covey would be out with us. The way

he used to stand it, was this. He would spend

the most of his afternoons in bed. He would

then come out fresh in the evening, ready to

urge us on with his words, example, and

frequently with the whip. Mr. Covey was one

of the few slaveholders who could and did

work with his hands. He was a hardworking

man. He knew by himself just what a man or

a boy could do. There was no deceiving him.

His work went on in his absence almost as

well as in his presence; and he had the faculty

of making us feel that he was ever present

with us. This he did by surprising us. He

seldom approached the spot where we were

at work openly, if he could do it secretly. He

always aimed at taking us by surprise. Such

was his cunning, that we used to call him,

among ourselves, "the snake." When we were

at work in the cornfield, he would sometimes

crawl on his hands and knees to avoid

detection, and all at once he would rise nearly

in our midst, and scream out, "Ha, ha! Come,

come! Dash on, dash on!" This being his

mode of attack, it was never safe to stop a

single minute. His comings were like a thief in

the night. He appeared to us as being ever at

hand. He was under every tree, behind every

stump, in every bush, and at every window, on

the plantation. He would sometimes mount his

horse, as if bound to St. Michael's, a distance

of seven miles, and in half an hour afterwards

you would see him coiled up in the corner of

the wood-fence, watching every motion of the

slaves. He would, for this purpose, leave his

horse tied up in the woods. Again, he would

sometimes walk up to us, and give us orders

as though he was upon the point of starting on

a long journey, turn his back upon us, and

make as though he was going to the house to

get ready; and, before he would get half way

thither, he would turn short and crawl into a

fence-corner, or behind some tree, and there

watch us till the going down of the sun.

Mr. Covey's FORTE consisted in his

power to deceive. His life was devoted to

planning and perpetrating the grossest

deceptions. Every thing he possessed in the

shape of learning or religion, he made

conform to his disposition to deceive. He

seemed to think himself equal to deceiving the

Almighty. He would make a short prayer in

the morning, and a long prayer at night; and,

strange as it may seem, few men would at

times appear more devotional than he. The

exercises of his family devotions were always

commenced with singing; and, as he was a

very poor singer himself, the duty of raising

the hymn generally came upon me. He would

read his hymn, and nod at me to commence. I

would at times do so; at others, I would not.

My non-compliance would almost always

produce much confusion. To show himself

independent of me, he would start and stagger

through with his hymn in the most discordant

manner. In this state of mind, he prayed with

more than ordinary spirit. Poor man! such was

Page 38 of 63

his disposition, and success at deceiving, I do

verily believe that he sometimes deceived

himself into the solemn belief, that he was a

sincere worshipper of the most high God; and

this, too, at a time when he may be said to

have been guilty of compelling his woman

slave to commit the sin of adultery. The facts

in the case are these: Mr. Covey was a poor

man; he was just commencing in life; he was

only able to buy one slave; and, shocking as

is the fact, he bought her, as he said, for A

BREEDER. This woman was named

Caroline. Mr. Covey bought her from Mr.

Thomas Lowe, about six miles from St.

Michael's. She was a large, able-bodied

woman, about twenty years old. She had

already given birth to one child, which

proved her to be just what he wanted. After

buying her, he hired a married man of Mr.

Samuel Harrison, to live with him one year;

and him he used to fasten up with her every

night! The result was, that, at the end of the

year, the miserable woman gave birth to

twins. At this result Mr. Covey seemed to be

highly pleased, both with the man and the

wretched woman. Such was his joy, and that

of his wife, that nothing they could do for

Caroline during her confinement was too

good, or too hard, to be done. The children

were regarded as being quite an addition to

his wealth.

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 in all weathers. It was never

too hot or too cold; it could never rain, blow,

hail, or snow, too hard for us to work in the

field. Work, work, work, was scarcely more

the order of the day than of the night. The

longest days were too short for him, and the

shortest nights too long for him. I was

somewhat unmanageable when I first went

there, but a few months of this 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!

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,

that 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.

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 lofty 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:--

"You are loosed from your moorings,

Page 39 of 63

and are 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

round 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 the 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 northeast course 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 can 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."

Thus I used to think, and thus I used

to speak to myself; goaded almost to madness

at one moment, and at the next reconciling

myself to my wretched lot.

I have already intimated that my

condition was much worse, during the first six

months of my stay at Mr. Covey's, than in the

last six. The circumstances leading to the

change in Mr. Covey's course toward me form

an epoch in my humble history. You have

seen how a man was made a slave; you shall

see how a slave was made a man. On one of

the hottest days of the month of August, 1833,

Bill Smith, William Hughes, a slave named

Eli, and myself, were engaged in fanning

wheat. Hughes was clearing the fanned wheat

from before the fan. Eli was turning, Smith

was feeding, and I was carrying wheat to the

fan. The work was simple, requiring strength

rather than intellect; yet, to one entirely

unused to such work, it came very hard. About

three o'clock of that day, I broke down; my

strength failed me; I was seized with a violent

aching of the head, attended with extreme

dizziness; I trembled in every limb. Finding

what was coming, I nerved myself up, feeling

it would never do to stop work. I stood as long

as I could stagger to the hopper with grain.

When I could stand no longer, I fell, and felt

as if held down by an immense weight. The

fan of course stopped; every one had his own

work to do; and no one could do the work of

the other, and have his own go on at the same

time.

Mr. Covey was at the house, about one

hundred yards from the treading-yard where

we were fanning. On hearing the fan stop, he

left immediately, and came to the spot where

we were. He hastily inquired what the matter

was. Bill answered that I was sick, and there

was no one to bring wheat to the fan. I had by

this time crawled away under the side of the

post and rail-fence by which the yard was

enclosed, hoping to find relief by getting out

of the sun. He then asked where I was. He was

Page 40 of 63

told by one of the hands. He came to the spot,

and, after looking at me awhile, asked me

what was the matter. I told him as well as I

could, for I scarce had strength to speak. He

then gave me a savage kick in the side, and

told me to get up. I tried to do so, but fell

back in the attempt. He gave me another

kick, and again told me to rise. I again tried,

and succeeded in gaining my feet; but,

stooping to get the tub with which I was

feeding the fan, I again staggered and fell.

While down in this situation, Mr. Covey took

up the hickory slat with which Hughes had

been striking off the half-bushel measure, and

with it gave me a heavy blow upon the head,

making a large wound, and the blood ran

freely; and with this again told me to get up.

I made no effort to comply, having now made

up my mind to let him do his worst. In a short

time after receiving this blow, my head grew

better. Mr. Covey had now left me to my fate.

At this moment I resolved, for the first time,

to go to my master, enter a complaint, and

ask his protection. In order to do this, I must

that afternoon walk seven miles; and this,

under the circumstances, was truly a severe

undertaking. I was exceedingly feeble; made

so as much by the kicks and blows which I

received, as by the severe fit of sickness to

which I had been subjected. I, however,

watched my chance, while Covey was

looking in an opposite direction, and started

for St. Michael's. I succeeded in getting a

considerable distance on my way to the

woods, when Covey discovered me, and

called after me to come back, threatening

what he would do if I did not come. I

disregarded both his calls and his threats, and

made my way to the woods as fast as my

feeble state would allow; and thinking I

might be overhauled by him if I kept the

road, I walked through the woods, keeping

far enough from the road to avoid detection,

and near enough to prevent losing my way. I

had not gone far before my little strength

again failed me. I could go no farther. I fell

down, and lay for a considerable time. The

blood was yet oozing from the wound on my

head. For a time I thought I should bleed to

death; and think now that I should have done

so, but that the blood so matted my hair as to

stop the wound. After lying there about three

quarters of an hour, I nerved myself up again,

and started on my way, through bogs and

briers, barefooted and bareheaded, tearing my

feet sometimes at nearly every step; and after

a journey of about seven miles, occupying

some five hours to perform it, I arrived at

master's store. I then presented an appearance

enough to affect any but a heart of iron. From

the crown of my head to my feet, I was

covered with blood. My hair was all clotted

with dust and blood; my shirt was stiff with

blood. I suppose I looked like a man who had

escaped a den of wild beasts, and barely

escaped them. In this state I appeared before

my master, humbly entreating him to interpose

his authority for my protection. I told him all

the circumstances as well as I could, and it

seemed, as I spoke, at times to affect him. He

would then walk the floor, and seek to justify

Covey by saying he expected I deserved it. He

asked me what I wanted. I told him, to let me

get a new home; that as sure as I lived with

Mr. Covey again, I should live with but to die

with him; that Covey would surely kill me; he

was in a fair way for it. Master Thomas

ridiculed the idea that there was any danger of

Mr. Covey's killing me, and said that he knew

Mr. Covey; that he was a good man, and that

he could not think of taking me from him;

that, should he do so, he would lose the whole

year's wages; that I belonged to Mr. Covey for

one year, and that I must go back to him, come

what might; and that I must not trouble him

with any more stories, or that he would

Page 41 of 63

himself GET HOLD OF ME. After

threatening me thus, he gave me a very large

dose of salts, telling me that I might remain

in St. Michael's that night, (it being quite

late,) but that I must be off back to Mr.

Covey's early in the morning; and that if I did

not, he would ~get hold of me,~ which meant

that he would whip me. I remained all night,

and, according to his orders, I started off to

Covey's in the morning, (Saturday morning,)

wearied in body and broken in spirit. I got no

supper that night, or breakfast that morning.

I reached Covey's about nine o'clock; and just

as I was getting over the fence that divided

Mrs. Kemp's fields from ours, out ran Covey

with his cowskin, to give me another

whipping. Before he could reach me, I

succeeded in getting to the cornfield; and as

the corn was very high, it afforded me the

means of hiding. He seemed very angry, and

searched for me a long time. My behavior

was altogether unaccountable. He finally

gave up the chase, thinking, I suppose, that I

must come home for something to eat; he

would give himself no further trouble in

looking for me. I spent that day mostly in the

woods, having the alternative before me,--to

go home and be whipped to death, or stay in

the woods and be starved to death. That

night, I fell in with Sandy Jenkins, a slave

with whom I was somewhat acquainted.

Sandy had a free wife who lived about four

miles from Mr. Covey's; and it being

Saturday, he was on his way to see her. I told

him my circumstances, and he very kindly

invited me to go home with him. I went home

with him, and talked this whole matter over,

and got his advice as to what course it was

best for me to pursue. I found Sandy an old

adviser. He told me, with great solemnity, I

must go back to Covey; but that before I

went, I must go with him into another part of

the woods, where there was a certain ~root,~

which, if I would take some of it with me,

carrying it ~always on my right side,~ would

render it impossible for Mr. Covey, or any

other white man, to whip me. He said he had

carried it for years; and since he had done so,

he had never received a blow, and never

expected to while he carried it. I at first

rejected the idea, that the simple carrying of a

root in my pocket would have any such effect

as he had said, and was not disposed to take it;

but Sandy impressed the necessity with much

earnestness, telling me it could do no harm, if

it did no good. To please him, I at length took

the root, and, according to his direction,

carried it upon my right side. This was Sunday

morning. I immediately started for home; and

upon entering the yard gate, out came Mr.

Covey on his way to meeting. He spoke to me

very kindly, bade me drive the pigs from a lot

near by, and passed on towards the church.

Now, this singular conduct of Mr. Covey

really made me begin to think that there was

something in the ROOT which Sandy had

given me; and had it been on any other day

than Sunday, I could have attributed the

conduct to no other cause than the influence of

that root; and as it was, I was half inclined to

think the ~root~ to be something more than I

at first had taken it to be. All went well till

Monday morning. On this morning, the virtue

of the ROOT was fully tested. Long before

daylight, I was called to go and rub, curry, and

feed, the horses. I obeyed, and was glad to

obey. But whilst thus engaged, whilst in the

act of throwing down some blades from the

loft, Mr. Covey entered the stable with a long

rope; and just as I was half out of the loft, he

caught hold of my legs, and was about tying

me. As soon as I found what he was up to, I

gave a sudden spring, and as I did so, he

holding to my legs, I was brought sprawling

on the stable floor. Mr. Covey seemed now to

think he had me, and could do what he

Page 42 of 63

pleased; but at this moment-- from whence

came the spirit I don't know--I resolved to

fight; and, suiting my action to the resolution,

I seized Covey hard by the throat; and as I

did so, I rose. He held on to me, and I to him.

My resistance was so entirely unexpected that

Covey seemed taken all aback. He trembled

like a leaf. This gave me assurance, and I

held him uneasy, causing the blood to run

where I touched him with the ends of my

fingers. Mr. Covey soon called out to Hughes

for help. Hughes came, and, while Covey

held me, attempted to tie my right hand.

While he was in the act of doing so, I

watched my chance, and gave him a heavy

kick close under the ribs. This kick fairly

sickened Hughes, so that he left me in the

hands of Mr. Covey. This kick had the effect

of not only weakening Hughes, but Covey

also. When he saw Hughes bending over with

pain, his courage quailed. He asked me if I

meant to persist in my resistance. I told him

I did, come what might; that he had used me

like a brute for six months, and that I was

determined to be used so no longer. With

that, he strove to drag me to a stick that was

lying just out of the stable door. He meant to

knock me down. But just as he was leaning

over to get the stick, I seized him with both

hands by his collar, and brought him by a

sudden snatch to the ground. By this time,

Bill came. Covey called upon him for

assistance. Bill wanted to know what he

could do. Covey said, "Take hold of him,

take hold of him!" Bill said his master hired

him out to work, and not to help to whip me;

so he left Covey and myself to fight our own

battle out. We were at it for nearly two hours.

Covey at length let me go, puffing and

blowing at a great rate, saying that if I had

not resisted, he would not have whipped me

half so much. The truth was, that he had not

whipped me at all. I considered him as

getting entirely the worst end of the bargain;

for he had drawn no blood from me, but I had

from him. The whole six months afterwards,

that I spent with Mr. Covey, he never laid the

weight of his finger upon me in anger. He

would occasionally say, he didn't want to get

hold of me again. "No," thought I, "you need

not; for you will come off worse than you did

before."

This battle with Mr. Covey was the

turningpoint in my career as a slave. It

rekindled the few expiring embers of freedom,

and revived within me a sense of my own

manhood. It recalled the departed

self-confidence, and inspired me again with a

determination to be free. The gratification

afforded by the triumph was a full

compensation for whatever else might follow,

even death itself. He only can understand the

deep satisfaction which I experienced, who

has himself repelled by force the bloody arm

of slavery. I felt as I never felt before. It was a

glorious resurrection, from the tomb of

slavery, to the heaven of freedom. My

long-crushed spirit rose, cowardice departed,

bold defiance took its place; and I now

resolved that, however long I might remain a

slave in form, the day had passed forever

when I could be a slave in fact. I did not

hesitate to let it be known of me, that the

white man who expected to succeed in

whipping, must also succeed in killing me.

From this time I was never again what

might be called fairly whipped, though I

remained a slave four years afterwards. I had

several fights, but was never whipped.

It was for a long time a matter of

surprise to me why Mr. Covey did not

immediately have me taken by the constable

to the whipping-post, and there regularly

whipped for the crime of raising my hand

against a white man in defence of myself. And

the only explanation I can now think of does

Page 43 of 63

not entirely satisfy me; but such as it is, I will

give it. Mr. Covey enjoyed the most

unbounded reputation for being a first-rate

overseer and negro-breaker. It was of

considerable importance to him. That

reputation was at stake; and had he sent

me--a boy about sixteen years old--to the

public whipping-post, his reputation would

have been lost; so, to save his reputation, he

suffered me to go unpunished.

My term of actual service to Mr.

Edward Covey ended on Christmas day,

1833. The days between Christmas and New

Year's day are allowed as holidays; and,

accordingly, we were not required to perform

any labor, more than to feed and take care of

the stock. This time we regarded as our own,

by the grace of our masters; and we therefore

used or abused it nearly as we pleased. Those

of us who had families at a distance, were

generally allowed to spend the whole six

days in their society. This time, however, was

spent in various ways. The staid, sober,

thinking and industrious ones of our number

would employ themselves in making

corn-brooms, mats, horse-collars, and

baskets; and another class of us would spend

the time in hunting opossums, hares, and

coons. But by far the larger part engaged in

such sports and merriments as playing ball,

wrestling, running foot-races, fiddling,

dancing, and drinking whisky; and this latter

mode of spending the time was by far the

most agreeable to the feelings of our masters.

A slave who would work during the holidays

was considered by our masters as scarcely

deserving them. He was regarded as one who

rejected the favor of his master. It was

deemed a disgrace not to get drunk at

Christmas; and he was regarded as lazy

indeed, who had not provided himself with

the necessary means, during the year, to get

whisky enough to last him through

Christmas.

From what I know of the effect of

these holidays upon the slave, I believe them

to be among the most effective means in the

hands of the slaveholder in keeping down the

spirit of insurrection. Were the slaveholders at

once to abandon this practice, I have not the

slightest doubt it would lead to an immediate

insurrection among the slaves. These holidays

serve as conductors, or safety-valves, to carry

off the rebellious spirit of enslaved humanity.

But for these, the slave would be forced up to

the wildest desperation; and woe betide the

slaveholder, the day he ventures to remove or

hinder the operation of those conductors! I

warn him that, in such an event, a spirit will

go forth in their midst, more to be dreaded

than the most appalling earthquake.

The holidays are part and parcel of the

gross fraud, wrong, and inhumanity of slavery.

They are professedly a custom established by

the benevolence of the slaveholders; but I

undertake to say, it is the result of selfishness,

and one of the grossest frauds committed upon

the down-trodden slave. They do not give the

slaves this time because they would not like to

have their work during its continuance, but

because they know it would be unsafe to

deprive them of it. This will be seen by the

fact, that the slaveholders like to have their

slaves spend those days just in such a manner

as to make them as glad of their ending as of

their beginning. Their object seems to be, to

disgust their slaves with freedom, by plunging

them into the lowest depths of dissipation. For

instance, the slaveholders not only like to see

the slave drink of his own accord, but will

adopt various plans to make him drunk. One

plan is, to make bets on their slaves, as to who

can drink the most whisky without getting

drunk; and in this way they succeed in getting

whole multitudes to drink to excess. Thus,

when the slave asks for virtuous freedom, the

Page 44 of 63

cunning slaveholder, knowing his ignorance,

cheats him with a dose of vicious dissipation,

artfully labelled with the name of liberty. The

most of us used to drink it down, and the

result was just what might be supposed;

many of us were led to think that there was

little to choose between liberty and slavery.

We felt, and very properly too, that we had

almost as well be slaves to man as to rum.

So, when the holidays ended, we staggered

up from the filth of our wallowing, took a

long breath, and marched to the

field,--feeling, upon the whole, rather glad to

go, from what our master had deceived us

into a belief was freedom, back to the arms of

slavery.

I have said that this mode of

treatment is a part of the whole system of

fraud and inhumanity of slavery. It is so. The

mode here adopted to disgust the slave with

freedom, by allowing him to see only the

abuse of it, is carried out in other things. For

instance, a slave loves molasses; he steals

some. His master, in many cases, goes off to

town, and buys a large quantity; he returns,

takes his whip, and commands the slave to

eat the molasses, until the poor fellow is

made sick at the very mention of it. The same

mode is sometimes adopted to make the

slaves refrain from asking for more food than

their regular allowance. A slave runs through

his allowance, and applies for more. His

master is enraged at him; but, not willing to

send him off without food, gives him more

than is necessary, and compels him to eat it

within a given time. Then, if he complains

that he cannot eat it, he is said to be satisfied

neither full nor fasting, and is whipped for

being hard to please! I have an abundance of

such illustrations of the same principle,

drawn from my own observation, but think

the cases I have cited sufficient. The practice

is a very common one.

On the first of January, 1834, I left Mr.

Covey, and went to live with Mr. William

Freeland, who lived about three miles from St.

Michael's. I soon found Mr. Freeland a very

different man from Mr. Covey. Though not

rich, he was what would be called an educated

southern gentleman. Mr. Covey, as I have

shown, was a well-trained negro-breaker and

slave-driver. The former (slaveholder though

he was) seemed to possess some regard for

honor, some reverence for justice, and some

respect for humanity. The latter seemed totally

insensible to all such sentiments. Mr. Freeland

had many of the faults peculiar to

slaveholders, such as being very passionate

and fretful; but I must do him the justice to

say, that he was exceedingly free from those

degrading vices to which Mr. Covey was

constantly addicted. The one was open and

frank, and we always knew where to find him.

The other was a most artful deceiver, and

could be understood only by such as were

skilful enough to detect his cunningly-devised

frauds. Another advantage I gained in my new

master was, he made no pretensions to, or

profession of, religion; and this, in my

opinion, was truly a great advantage. I assert

most unhesitatingly, that the religion of the

south is a mere covering for the most horrid

crimes,--a justifier of the most appalling

barbarity,--a sanctifier of the most hateful

frauds,--and a dark shelter under, which the

darkest, foulest, grossest, and most infernal

deeds of slaveholders find the strongest

protection. Were I to be again reduced to the

chains of slavery, next to that enslavement, I

should regard being the slave of a religious

master the greatest calamity that could befall

me. For of all slaveholders with whom I have

ever met, religious slaveholders are the worst.

I have ever found them the meanest and

basest, the most cruel and cowardly, of all

others. It was my unhappy lot not only to

Page 45 of 63

belong to a religious slaveholder, but to live

in a community of such religionists. Very

near Mr. Freeland lived the Rev. Daniel

Weeden, and in the same neighborhood lived

the Rev. Rigby Hopkins. These were

members and ministers in the Reformed

Methodist Church. Mr. Weeden owned,

among others, a woman slave, whose name I

have forgotten. This woman's back, for

weeks, was kept literally raw, made so by the

lash of this merciless, ~religious~ wretch. He

used to hire hands. His maxim was, Behave

well or behave ill, it is the duty of a master

occasionally to whip a slave, to remind him

of his master's authority. Such was his theory,

and such his practice.

Mr. Hopkins was even worse than

Mr. Weeden. His chief boast was his ability

to manage slaves. The peculiar feature of his

government was that of whipping slaves in

advance of deserving it. He always managed

to have one or more of his slaves to whip

every Monday morning. He did this to alarm

their fears, and strike terror into those who

escaped. His plan was to whip for the

smallest offences, to prevent the commission

of large ones. Mr. Hopkins could always find

some excuse for whipping a slave. It would

astonish one, unaccustomed to a

slave-holding life, to see with what

wonderful ease a slave-holder can find

things, of which to make occasion to whip a

slave. 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? It is

said, he has the devil in him, and it must be

whipped out. Does he speak loudly when

spoken to by his master? Then he is getting

high-minded, and should be taken down a

button-hole lower. Does he forget to pull off

his hat at the approach of a white person?

Then he is wanting in reverence, and should

be whipped for it. Does he ever venture to

vindicate his conduct, when censured for it?

Then he is guilty of impudence,--one of the

greatest crimes of which a slave can be guilty.

Does he ever venture to suggest a different

mode of doing things from that pointed out by

his master? He is indeed presumptuous, and

getting above himself; and nothing less than a

flogging will do for him. Does he, while

ploughing, break a plough,--or, while hoeing,

break a hoe? It is owing to his carelessness,

and for it a slave must always be whipped. Mr.

Hopkins could always find something of this

sort to justify the use of the lash, and he

seldom failed to embrace such opportunities.

There was not a man in the whole county,

with whom the slaves who had the getting

their own home, would not prefer to live,

rather than with this Rev. Mr. Hopkins. And

yet there was not a man any where round, who

made higher professions of religion, or was

more active in revivals,--more attentive to the

class, love-feast, prayer and preaching

meetings, or more devotional in his family,--

that prayed earlier, later, louder, and

longer,--than this same reverend slave-driver,

Rigby Hopkins.

But to return to Mr. Freeland, and to

my experience while in his employment. He,

like Mr. Covey, gave us enough to eat; but,

unlike Mr. Covey, he also gave us sufficient

time to take our meals. He worked us hard,

but always between sunrise and sunset. He

required a good deal of work to be done, but

gave us good tools with which to work. His

farm was large, but he employed hands

enough to work it, and with ease, compared

with many of his neighbors. My treatment,

while in his employment, was heavenly,

compared with what I experienced at the

hands of Mr. Edward Covey.

Mr. Freeland was himself the owner of

but two slaves. Their names were Henry

Page 46 of 63

Harris and John Harris. The rest of his hands

he hired. These consisted of myself, Sandy

Jenkins,* and Handy Caldwell. Henry and

John were quite intelligent, and in a very

little while after I went there, I succeeded in

creating in them a strong desire to learn how

to read. This desire soon sprang up in the

others also. They very soon mustered up

some old spelling-books, and nothing would

do but that I must keep a Sabbath school. I

agreed to do so, and accordingly devoted my

Sundays to teaching these my loved

fellow-slaves how to read. Neither of them

knew his letters when I went there. Some of

the slaves of the neighboring farms found

what was going on, and also availed

themselves of this little opportunity to learn

to read. It was understood, among all who

came, that there must be as little display

about it as possible. It was necessary to keep

our religious masters at St. Michael's

unacquainted with the fact, that, instead of

spending the Sabbath in wrestling, boxing,

and drinking whisky, we were trying to learn

how to read the will of God; for they had

much rather see us engaged in those

degrading sports, than to see us behaving like

intellectual, moral, and accountable beings.

My blood boils as I think of the bloody

manner in which Messrs. Wright Fairbanks

and Garrison West, both class-leaders, in

connection with many others, rushed in upon

us with sticks and stones, and broke up our

virtuous little Sabbath school, at St.

Michael's--all calling themselves Christians!

humble followers of the Lord Jesus Christ!

But I am again digressing.

*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.

I held my Sabbath school at the house

of a free colored man, whose name I deem it

imprudent to mention; for should it be known,

it might embarrass him greatly, though the

crime of holding the school was committed

ten years ago. I had at one time over forty

scholars, and those of the right sort, ardently

desiring to learn. They were of all ages,

though mostly men and women. I look back to

those Sundays with an amount of pleasure not

to be expressed. They were great days to my

soul. The work of instructing my dear

fellow-slaves was the sweetest engagement

with which I was ever blessed. We loved each

other, and to leave them at the close of the

Sabbath was a severe cross indeed. When I

think that these precious souls are to-day shut

up in the prison-house of slavery, my feelings

overcome me, and I am almost ready to ask,

"Does a righteous God govern the universe?

and for what does he hold the thunders in his

right hand, if not to smite the oppressor, and

deliver the spoiled out of the hand of the

spoiler?" These dear souls came not to

Sabbath school because it was popular to do

so, nor did I teach them because it was

reputable to be thus engaged. Every moment

they spent in that school, they were liable to

be taken up, and given thirty-nine lashes. They

came because they wished to learn. Their

minds had been starved by their cruel masters.

They had been shut up in mental darkness. I

taught them, because it was the delight of my

soul to be doing something that looked like

bettering the condition of my race. I kept up

my school nearly the whole year I lived with

Mr. Freeland; and, beside my Sabbath school,

I devoted three evenings in the week, during

the winter, to teaching the slaves at home.

Page 47 of 63

And I have the happiness to know, that

several of those who came to Sabbath school

learned how to read; and that one, at least, is

now free through my agency.

The year passed off smoothly. It

seemed only about half as long as the year

which preceded it. I went through it without

receiving a single blow. I will give Mr.

Freeland the credit of being the best master I

ever had, ~till I became my own master.~ For

the ease with which I passed the year, I was,

however, somewhat indebted to the society of

my fellow-slaves. They were noble souls;

they not only possessed loving hearts, but

brave ones. We were linked and interlinked

with each other. I loved them with a love

stronger than any thing I have experienced

since. It is sometimes said that we slaves do

not love and confide in each other. In answer

to this assertion, I can say, I never loved any

or confided in any people more than my

fellow slaves, and especially those with

whom I lived at Mr. Freeland's. I believe we

would have died for each other. We never

undertook to do any thing, of any importance,

without a mutual consultation. We never

moved separately. We were one; and as much

so by our tempers and dispositions, as by the

mutual hardships to which we were

necessarily subjected by our condition as

slaves.

At the close of the year 1834, Mr.

Freeland again hired me of my master, for the

year 1835. But, by this time, I began to want

to live ~upon free land~ as well as ~with

freeland;~ and I was no longer content,

therefore, to live with him or any other

s l a v e - h o ld e r . I b e ga n , w i th t h e

commencement of the year, to prepare myself

for a final struggle, which should decide my

fate one way or the other. My tendency was

upward. I was fast approaching manhood,

and year after year had passed, and I was still

a slave. These thoughts roused me--I must do

something. I therefore resolved that 1835

should not pass without witnessing an attempt,

on my part, to secure my liberty. But I was not

willing to cherish this determination alone.

My fellow-slaves were dear to me. I was

anxious to have them participate with me in

this, my life-giving determination. I therefore,

though with great prudence, commenced early

to ascertain their views and feelings in regard

to their condition, and to imbue their minds

with thoughts of freedom. I bent myself to

devising ways and means for our escape, and

meanwhile strove, on all fitting occasions, to

impress them with the gross fraud and

inhumanity of slavery. I went first to Henry,

next to John, then to the others. I found, in

them all, warm hearts and noble spirits. They

were ready to hear, and ready to act when a

feasible plan should be proposed. This was

what I wanted. I talked to them of our want of

manhood, if we submitted to our enslavement

without at least one noble effort to be free. We

met often, and consulted frequently, and told

our hopes and fears, recounted the difficulties,

real and imagined, which we should be called

on to meet. At times we were almost disposed

to give up, and try to content ourselves with

our wretched lot; at others, we were firm and

unbending in our determination to go.

Whenever we suggested any plan, there was

shrinking--the odds were fearful. Our path was

beset with the greatest obstacles; and if we

succeeded in gaining the end of it, our right to

be free was yet questionable--we were yet

liable to be returned to bondage. We could see

no spot, this side of the ocean, where we could

be free. We knew nothing about Canada. Our

knowledge of the north did not extend farther

than New York; and to go there, and be

forever harassed with the frightful liability of

being returned to slavery--with the certainty of

being treated tenfold worse than before--the

Page 48 of 63

thought was truly a horrible one, and one

which it was not easy to overcome. The case

sometimes stood thus: At every gate through

which we were to pass, we saw a watchman

--at every ferry a guard--on every bridge a

sentinel-- and in every wood a patrol. We

were hemmed in upon every side. Here were

the difficulties, real or imagined--the good to

be sought, and the evil to be shunned. On the

one hand, there stood slavery, a stern reality,

glaring frightfully upon us,--its robes already

crimsoned with the blood of millions, and

even now feasting itself greedily upon our

own flesh. On the other hand, away back in

the dim distance, 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 come

and share its hospitality. This in itself was

sometimes enough to stagger us; but when

we permitted ourselves to survey the road,

we were frequently appalled. Upon either

side we saw grim death, assuming the most

horrid shapes. Now it was starvation, causing

us to eat our own flesh;--now we were

contending with the waves, and were

drowned; --now we were overtaken, and torn

to pieces by the fangs of the terrible

bloodhound. We were stung by scorpions,

chased by wild beasts, bitten by snakes, and

finally, after having nearly reached the

desired spot,--after swimming rivers,

encountering wild beasts, sleeping in the

woods, suffering hunger and nakedness,--we

were overtaken by our pursuers, and, in our

resistance, we were shot dead upon the spot!

I say, this picture sometimes appalled us, and

made us

"rather bear those ills we had,

Than fly to others, that we knew not

of."

In coming to a fixed determination to

run away, we did more than Patrick Henry,

when he resolved upon liberty or death. With

us it was a doubtful liberty at most, and almost

certain death if we failed. For my part, I

should prefer death to hopeless bondage.

Sandy, one of our number, gave up the

notion, but still encouraged us. Our company

then consisted of Henry Harris, John Harris,

Henry Bailey, Charles Roberts, and myself.

Henry Bailey was my uncle, and belonged to

my master. Charles married my aunt: he

belonged to my master's father-in-law, Mr.

William Hamilton.

The plan we finally concluded upon

was, to get a large canoe belonging to Mr.

Hamilton, and upon the Saturday night

previous to Easter holidays, paddle directly up

the Chesapeake Bay. On our arrival at the

head of the bay, a distance of seventy or eighty

miles from where we lived, it was our purpose

to turn our canoe adrift, and follow the

guidance of the north star till we got beyond

the limits of Maryland. Our reason for taking

the water route was, that we were less liable to

be suspected as runaways; we hoped to be

regarded as fishermen; whereas, if we should

take the land route, we should be subjected to

interruptions of almost every kind. Any one

having a white face, and being so disposed,

could stop us, and subject us to examination.

The week before our intended start, I

wrote several protections, one for each of us.

As well as I can remember, they were in the

following words, to wit:--

"This is to certify that I, the

undersigned, have given the bearer,

my servant, full liberty to go to

Baltimore, and spend the Easter

holidays. Written with mine own

hand, &c., 1835.

Page 49 of 63

"WILLIAM HAMILTON,

"Near St. Michael's,

in Talbot county, Maryland."

We were not going to Baltimore; but,

in going up the bay, we went toward

Baltimore, and these protections were only

intended to protect us while on the bay.

As the time drew near for our

departure, our anxiety became more and

more intense. It was truly a matter of life and

death with us. The strength of our

determination was about to be fully tested. At

this time, I was very active in explaining

every difficulty, removing every doubt,

dispelling every fear, and inspiring all with

the firmness indispensable to success in our

undertaking; assuring them that half was

gained the instant we made the move; we had

talked long enough; we were now ready to

move; if not now, we never should be; and if

we did not intend to move now, we had as

well fold our arms, sit down, and

acknowledge ourselves fit only to be slaves.

This, none of us were prepared to

acknowledge. Every man stood firm; and at

our last meeting, we pledged ourselves

afresh, in the most solemn manner, that, at

the time appointed, we would certainly start

in pursuit of freedom. This was in the middle

of the week, at the end of which we were to

be off. We went, as usual, to our several

fields of labor, but with bosoms highly

agitated with thoughts of our truly hazardous

undertaking. We tried to conceal our feelings

as much as possible; and I think we

succeeded very well.

After a painful waiting, the Saturday

morning, whose night was to witness our

departure, came. I hailed it with joy, bring

what of sadness it might. Friday night was a

sleepless one for me. I probably felt more

anxious than the rest, because I was, by

common consent, at the head of the whole

affair. The responsibility of success or failure

lay heavily upon me. The glory of the one, and

the confusion of the other, were alike mine.

The first two hours of that morning were such

as I never experienced before, and hope never

to again. Early in the morning, we went, as

usual, to the field. We were spreading manure;

and all at once, while thus engaged, I was

overwhelmed with an indescribable feeling, in

the fulness of which I turned to Sandy, who

was near by, and said, "We are betrayed!"

"Well," said he, "that thought has this moment

struck me." We said no more. I was never

more certain of any thing.

The horn was blown as usual, and we

went up from the field to the house for

breakfast. I went for the form, more than for

want of any thing to eat that morning. Just as

I got to the house, in looking out at the lane

gate, I saw four white men, with two colored

men. The white men were on horseback, and

the colored ones were walking behind, as if

tied. I watched them a few moments till they

got up to our lane gate. Here they halted, and

tied the colored men to the gate-post. I was

not yet certain as to what the matter was. In a

few moments, in rode Mr. Hamilton, with a

speed betokening great excitement. He came

to the door, and inquired if Master William

was in. He was told he was at the barn. Mr.

Hamilton, without dismounting, rode up to the

barn with extraordinary speed. In a few

moments, he and Mr. Freeland returned to the

house. By this time, the three constables rode

up, and in great haste dismounted, tied their

horses, and met Master William and Mr.

Hamilton returning from the barn; and after

talking awhile, they all walked up to the

kitchen door. There was no one in the kitchen

but myself and John. Henry and Sandy were

up at the barn. Mr. Freeland put his head in at

the door, and called me by name, saying, there

Page 50 of 63

were some gentlemen at the door who wished

to see me. I stepped to the door, and inquired

what they wanted. They at once seized me,

and, without giving me any satisfaction, tied

me--lashing my hands closely together. I

insisted upon knowing what the matter was.

They at length said, that they had learned I

had been in a "scrape," and that I was to be

examined before my master; and if their

information proved false, I should not be

hurt.

In a few moments, they succeeded in

tying John. They then turned to Henry, who

had by this time returned, and commanded

him to cross his hands. "I won't!" said Henry,

in a firm tone, indicating his readiness to

meet the consequences of his refusal. "Won't

you?" said Tom Graham, the constable. "No,

I won't!" said Henry, in a still stronger tone.

With this, two of the constables pulled out

their shining pistols, and swore, by their

Creator, that they would make him cross his

hands or kill him. Each cocked his pistol,

and, with fingers on the trigger, walked up to

Henry, saying, at the same time, if he did not

cross his hands, they would blow his damned

heart out. "Shoot me, shoot me!" said Henry;

"you can't kill me but once. Shoot,

shoot,--and be damned! ~I won't be tied!~"

This he said in a tone of loud defiance; and at

the same time, with a motion as quick as

lightning, he with one single stroke dashed

the pistols from the hand of each constable.

As he did this, all hands fell upon him, and,

after beating him some time, they finally

overpowered him, and got him tied.

During the scuffle, I managed, I know

not how, to get my pass out, and, without

being discovered, put it into the fire. We

were all now tied; and just as we were to

leave for Easton jail, Betsy Freeland, mother

of William Freeland, came to the door with

her hands full of biscuits, and divided them

between Henry and John. She then delivered

herself of a speech, to the following

effect:--addressing herself to me, she said,

"~You devil! You yellow devil!~ it was you

that put it into the heads of Henry and John to

run away. But for you, you long-legged

mulatto devil! Henry nor John would never

have thought of such a thing." I made no

reply, and was immediately hurried off

towards St. Michael's. Just a moment previous

to the scuffle with Henry, Mr. Hamilton

suggested the propriety of making a search for

the protections which he had understood

Frederick had written for himself and the rest.

But, just at the moment he was about carrying

his proposal into effect, his aid was needed in

helping to tie Henry; and the excitement

attending the scuffle caused them either to

forget, or to deem it unsafe, under the

circumstances, to search. So we were not yet

convicted of the intention to run away.

When we got about half way to St.

Michael's, while the constables having us in

charge were looking ahead, Henry inquired of

me what he should do with his pass. I told him

to eat it with his biscuit, and own nothing; and

we passed the word around, "~Own

nothing;~" and "~Own nothing!~" said we all.

Our confidence in each other was unshaken.

We were resolved to succeed or fail together,

after the calamity had befallen us as much as

before. We were now prepared for any thing.

We were to be dragged that morning fifteen

miles behind horses, and then to be placed in

the Easton jail. When we reached St.

Michael's, we underwent a sort of

examination. We all denied that we ever

intended to run away. We did this more to

bring out the evidence against us, than from

any hope of getting clear of being sold; for, as

I have said, we were ready for that. The fact

was, we cared but little where we went, so we

went together. Our greatest concern was about

Page 51 of 63

separation. We dreaded that more than any

thing this side of death. We found the

evidence against us to be the testimony of

one person; our master would not tell who it

was; but we came to a unanimous decision

among ourselves as to who their informant

was. We were sent off to the jail at Easton.

When we got there, we were delivered up to

the sheriff, Mr. Joseph Graham, and by him

placed in jail. Henry, John, and myself, were

placed in one room together--Charles, and

Henry Bailey, in another. Their object in

separating us was to hinder concert.

We had been in jail scarcely twenty

minutes, when a swarm of slave traders, and

agents for slave traders, flocked into jail to

look at us, and to ascertain if we were for

sale. Such a set of beings I never saw before!

I felt myself surrounded by so many fiends

from perdition. A band of pirates never

looked more like their father, the devil. They

laughed and grinned over us, saying, "Ah, my

boys! we have got you, haven't we?" And

after taunting us in various ways, they one by

one went into an examination of us, with

intent to ascertain our value. They would

impudently ask us if we would not like to

have them for our masters. We would make

them no answer, and leave them to find out

as best they could. Then they would curse

and swear at us, telling us that they could

take the devil out of us in a very little while,

if we were only in their hands.

While in jail, we found ourselves in

much more comfortable quarters than we

expected when we went there. We did not get

much to eat, nor that which was very good;

but we had a good clean room, from the

windows of which we could see what was

going on in the street, which was very much

better than though we had been placed in one

of the dark, damp cells. Upon the whole, we

got along very well, so far as the jail and its

keeper were concerned. Immediately after the

holidays were over, contrary to all our

expectations, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Freeland

came up to Easton, and took Charles, the two

Henrys, and John, out of jail, and carried them

home, leaving me alone. I regarded this

separation as a final one. It caused me more

pain than any thing else in the whole

transaction. I was ready for any thing rather

than separation. I supposed that they had

consulted together, and had decided that, as I

was the whole cause of the intention of the

others to run away, it was hard to make the

innocent suffer with the guilty; and that they

had, therefore, concluded to take the others

home, and sell me, as a warning to the others

that remained. It is due to the noble Henry to

say, he seemed almost as reluctant at leaving

the prison as at leaving home to come to the

prison. But we knew we should, in all

probability, be separated, if we were sold; and

since he was in their hands, he concluded to

go peaceably home.

I was now left to my fate. I was all

alone, and within the walls of a stone prison.

But a few days before, and I was full of hope.

I expected to have been safe in a land of

freedom; but now I was covered with gloom,

sunk down to the utmost despair. I thought the

possibility of freedom was gone. I was kept in

this way about one week, at the end of which,

Captain Auld, my master, to my surprise and

utter astonishment, came up, and took me out,

with the intention of sending me, with a

gentleman of his acquaintance, into Alabama.

But, from some cause or other, he did not send

me to Alabama, but concluded to send me

back to Baltimore, to live again with his

brother Hugh, and to learn a trade.

Thus, after an absence of three years

and one month, I was once more permitted to

return to my old home at Baltimore. My

master sent me away, because there existed

Page 52 of 63

against me a very great prejudice in the

community, and he feared I might be killed.

In a few weeks after I went to

Baltimore, Master Hugh hired me to Mr.

William Gardner, an extensive ship-builder,

on Fell's Point. I was put there to learn how

to calk. It, however, proved a very

unfavorable place for the accomplishment of

this object. Mr. Gardner was engaged that

spring in building two large man-of-war

brigs, professedly for the Mexican

government. The vessels were to be launched

in the July of that year, and in failure thereof,

Mr. Gardner was to lose a considerable sum;

so that when I entered, all was hurry. There

was no time to learn any thing. Every man

had to do that which he knew how to do. In

entering the shipyard, my orders from Mr.

Gardner 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

crowbar."--"Fred., hold on the end of this

fall."--"Fred., go to the blacksmith's shop,

and get a new punch."--"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 BOWSE this timber

forward."--"I say, darky, 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! Damn you, if you move, I'll

knock your brains out!"

This was my school for eight months;

and I might have remained there longer, but

for a most horrid fight I had with four of the

white apprentices, in which my left eye was

nearly knocked out, and I was horribly

mangled in other respects. The facts in the

case were these: Until a very little while after

I went there, white and black ship-carpenters

worked side by side, and no one seemed to see

any impropriety in it. All hands seemed to be

very well satisfied. Many of the black

carpenters were freemen. Things seemed to be

going on very well. All at once, the white

carpenters knocked off, and said they would

not work with free colored workmen. Their

reason for this, as alleged, was, that if free

colored carpenters were encouraged, they

would soon take the trade into their own

hands, and poor white men would be thrown

out of employment. They therefore felt called

upon at once to put a stop to it. And, taking

advantage of Mr. Gardner's necessities, they

broke off, swearing they would work no

longer, unless he would discharge his black

carpenters. Now, though this did not extend to

me in form, it did reach me in fact. My

fellow-apprentices very soon began to feel it

degrading to them to work with me. They

began to put on airs, and talk about the

"niggers" taking the country, saying we all

ought to be killed; and, being encouraged by

the journeymen, they commenced making my

condition as hard as they could, by hectoring

me around, and sometimes striking me. I, of

course, kept the vow I made after the fight

with Mr. Covey, and struck back again,

regardless of consequences; and while I kept

them from combining, I succeeded very well;

for I could whip the whole of them, taking

Page 53 of 63

them separately. They, however, at length

combined, and came upon me, armed with

sticks, stones, and heavy handspikes. One

came in front with a half brick. There was

one at each side of me, and one behind me.

While I was attending to those in front, and

on either side, the one behind ran up with the

handspike, and struck me a heavy blow upon

the head. It stunned me. I fell, and with this

they all ran upon me, and fell to beating me

with their fists. I let them lay on for a while,

gathering strength. In an instant, I gave a

sudden surge, and rose to my hands and

knees. Just as I did that, one of their number

gave me, with his heavy boot, a powerful

kick in the left eye. My eyeball seemed to

have burst. When they saw my eye closed,

and badly swollen, they left me. With this I

seized the handspike, and for a time pursued

them. But here the carpenters interfered, and

I thought I might as well give it up. It was

impossible to stand my hand against so

many. All this took place in sight of not less

than fifty white ship-carpenters, and not one

interposed a friendly word; but some cried,

"Kill the damned nigger! Kill him! kill him!

He struck a white person." I found my only

chance for life was in flight. I succeeded in

getting away without an additional blow, and

barely so; for to strike a white man is death

by Lynch law,--and that was the law in Mr.

Gardner's ship-yard; nor is there much of any

other out of Mr. Gardner's ship-yard.

I went directly home, and told the

story of my wrongs to Master Hugh; and I am

happy to say of him, irreligious as he was, his

conduct was heavenly, compared with that of

his brother Thomas under similar

circumstances. He listened attentively to my

narration of the circumstances leading to the

savage outrage, and gave many proofs of his

strong indignation at it. The heart of my once

overkind mistress was again melted into pity.

My puffed-out eye and blood-covered face

moved her to tears. She took a chair by me,

washed the blood from my face, and, with a

mother's tenderness, bound up my head,

covering the wounded eye with a lean piece of

fresh beef. It was almost compensation for my

suffering to witness, once more, a

manifestation of kindness from this, my once

affectionate old mistress. Master Hugh was

very much enraged. He gave expression to his

feelings by pouring out curses upon the heads

of those who did the deed. As soon as I got a

little the better of my bruises, he took me with

him to Esquire Watson's, on Bond Street, to

see what could be done about the matter. Mr.

Watson inquired who saw the assault

committed. Master Hugh told him it was done

in Mr. Gardner's ship-yard at midday, where

there were a large company of men at work.

"As to that," he said, "the deed was done, and

there was no question as to who did it." His

answer was, he could do nothing in the case,

unless some white man would come forward

and testify. He could issue no warrant on my

word. If I had been killed in the presence of a

thousand colored people, their testimony

combined would have been insufficient to

have arrested one of the murderers. Master

Hugh, for once, was compelled to say this

state of things was too bad. Of course, it was

impossible to get any white man to volunteer

his testimony in my behalf, and against the

white young men. Even those who may have

sympathized with me were not prepared to do

this. It required a degree of courage unknown

to them to do so; for just at that time, the

slightest manifestation of humanity toward a

colored person was denounced as

abolitionism, and that name subjected its

bearer to frightful liabilities. The watch-words

of the bloody-minded in that region, and in

those days, were, "Damn the abolitionists!"

and "Damn the niggers!" There was nothing

Page 54 of 63

done, and probably nothing would have been

done if I had been killed. Such was, and such

remains, the state of things in the Christian

city of Baltimore.

Master Hugh, finding he could get no

redress, refused to let me go back again to

Mr. Gardner. He kept me himself, and his

wife dressed my wound till I was again

restored to health. He then took me into the

ship-yard of which he was foreman, in the

employment of Mr. Walter Price. There I was

immediately set to calking, and very soon

learned the art of using my mallet and irons.

In the course of one year from the time I left

Mr. Gardner's, I was able to command the

highest wages given to the most experienced

calkers. I was now of some importance to my

master. I was bringing him from six to seven

dollars per week. I sometimes brought him

nine dollars per week: my wages were a

dollar and a half a day. After learning how to

calk, I sought my own employment, made my

own contracts, and collected the money

which I earned. My pathway became much

more smooth than before; my condition was

now much more comfortable. When I could

get no calking to do, I did nothing. During

these leisure times, those old notions about

freedom would steal over me again. When in

Mr. Gardner's employment, I was kept in

such a perpetual whirl of excitement, I could

think of nothing, scarcely, but my life; and in

thinking of my life, I almost forgot my

liberty. I have observed this in my experience

of slavery,--that whenever my condition was

improved, instead of its increasing my

contentment, it only increased my desire to

be free, and set me to thinking of plans to

gain my freedom. I have found that, to make

a contented slave, it is necessary to make a

thoughtless one. It is necessary to darken his

moral and mental vision, and, as far as

possible, to annihilate the power of reason.

He must be able to detect no inconsistencies in

slavery; he must be made to feel that slavery is

right; and he can be brought to that only when

he ceases to be a man.

I was now getting, as I have said, one

dollar and fifty cents per day. I contracted for

it; I earned it; it was paid to me; it was

rightfully my own; yet, upon each returning

Saturday night, I was compelled to deliver

every cent of that money to Master Hugh. And

why? Not because he earned it,--not because

he had any hand in earning it,--not because I

owed it to him,--nor because he possessed the

slightest shadow of a right to it; but solely

because he had the power to compel me to

give it up. The right of the grim-visaged pirate

upon the high seas is exactly the same.

Page 55 of 63

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I now come to that part of my life

during which I planned, and finally

succeeded in making, my escape from

slavery. But before narrating any of the

peculiar circumstances, I deem it proper to

make known my intention not to state all the

facts connected with the transaction. My

reasons for pursuing this course may be

understood from the following: First, were I

to give a minute statement of all the facts, it

is not only possible, but quite probable, that

others would thereby be involved in the most

embarrassing difficulties. Secondly, such a

statement would most undoubtedly induce

greater vigilance on the part of slaveholders

than has existed heretofore among them;

which would, of course, be the means of

guarding a door whereby some dear brother

bondman might escape his galling chains. I

deeply regret the necessity that impels me to

suppress any thing of importance connected

with my experience in slavery. It would afford

me great pleasure indeed, as well as materially

add to the interest of my narrative, were I at

liberty to gratify a curiosity, which I know

exists in the minds of many, by an accurate

statement of all the facts pertaining to my

most fortunate escape. But I must deprive

myself of this pleasure, and the curious of the

gratification which such a statement would

afford. I would allow myself to suffer under

the greatest imputations which evil-minded

men might suggest, rather than exculpate

myself, and thereby run the hazard of closing

the slightest avenue by which a brother slave

might clear himself of the chains and fetters of

slavery.

I have never approved of the very

public manner in which some of our western

friends have conducted what they call the

~underground railroad,~ but which I think, by

their open declarations, has been made most

emphatically the ~upperground railroad.~ I

honor those good men and women for their

noble daring, and applaud them for willingly

subjecting themselves to bloody persecution,

by openly avowing their participation in the

escape of slaves. I, however, can see very little

good resulting from such a course, either to

themselves or the slaves escaping; while, upon

the other hand, I see and feel assured that

those open declarations are a positive evil to

the slaves remaining, who are seeking to

escape. They do nothing towards enlightening

the slave, whilst they do much towards

enlightening the master. They stimulate him to

Page 56 of 63

greater watchfulness, and enhance his power

to capture his slave. We owe something to

the slave south of the line as well as to those

north of it; and in aiding the latter on their

way to freedom, we should be careful to do

nothing which would be likely to hinder the

former from escaping from slavery. I would

keep the merciless slaveholder profoundly

ignorant of the means of flight adopted by the

slave. I would leave him to imagine himself

surrounded by myriads of invisible

tormentors, ever ready to snatch from his

infernal grasp his trembling prey. Let him be

left to feel his way in the dark; let darkness

commensurate with his crime hover over

him; and let him feel that at every step he

takes, in pursuit of the flying bondman, he is

running the frightful risk of having his hot

brains dashed out by an invisible agency. Let

us render the tyrant no aid; let us not hold the

light by which he can trace the footprints of

our flying brother. 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.

In the early part of the year 1838, I

became quite restless. I could see no reason

why I should, at the end of each week, pour

the reward of my toil into the purse of my

master. When I carried to him my weekly

wages, he would, after counting the money,

look me in the face with a robber-like

fierceness, and ask, "Is this all?" He was

satisfied with nothing less than the last cent.

He would, however, when I made him six

dollars, sometimes give me six cents, to

encourage me. It had the opposite effect. I

regarded it as a sort of admission of my right

to the whole. The fact that he gave me any

part of my wages was proof, to my mind, that

he believed me entitled to the whole of them.

I always felt worse for having received any

thing; for I feared that the giving me a few

cents would ease his conscience, and make

him feel himself to be a pretty honorable sort

of robber. My discontent grew upon me. I was

ever on the look-out for means of escape; and,

finding no direct means, I determined to try to

hire my time, with a view of getting money

with which to make my escape. In the spring

of 1838, when Master Thomas came to

Baltimore to purchase his spring goods, I got

an opportunity, and applied to him to allow

me to hire my time. He unhesitatingly refused

my request, and told me this was another

stratagem by which to escape. He told me I

could go nowhere but that he could get me;

and that, in the event of my running away, he

should spare no pains in his efforts to catch

me. He exhorted me to content myself, and be

obedient. He told me, if I would be happy, I

must lay out no plans for the future. He said,

if I behaved myself properly, he would take

care of me. Indeed, he advised me to complete

thoughtlessness of the future, and taught me to

depend solely upon him for happiness. He

seemed to see fully the pressing necessity of

setting aside my intellectual nature, in order to

contentment in slavery. But in spite of him,

and even in spite of myself, I continued to

think, and to think about the injustice of my

enslavement, and the means of escape.

About two months after this, I applied

to Master Hugh for the privilege of hiring my

time. He was not acquainted with the fact that

I had applied to Master Thomas, and had been

refused. He too, at first, seemed disposed to

refuse; but, after some reflection, he granted

me the privilege, and proposed the following

terms: I was to be allowed all my time, make

all contracts with those for whom I worked,

and find my own employment; and, in return

for this liberty, I was to pay him three dollars

at the end of each week; find myself in calking

tools, and in board and clothing. My board

Page 57 of 63

was two dollars and a half per week. This,

with the wear and tear of clothing and

calking tools, made my regular expenses

about six dollars per week. This amount I

was compelled to make up, or relinquish the

privilege of hiring my time. Rain or shine,

work or no work, at the end of each week the

money must be forthcoming, or I must give

up my privilege. This arrangement, it will be

perceived, was decidedly in my master's

favor. It relieved him of all need of looking

after me. His money was sure. He received

all the benefits of slaveholding without its

evils; while I endured all the evils of a slave,

and suffered all the care and anxiety of a

freeman. I found it a hard bargain. But, hard

as it was, I thought it better than the old

mode of getting along. It was a step towards

freedom to be allowed to bear the

responsibilities of a freeman, and I was

determined to hold on upon it. I bent myself

to the work of making money. I was ready to

work at night as well as day, and by the most

untiring perseverance and industry, I made

enough to meet my expenses, and lay up a

little money every week. I went on thus from

May till August. Master Hugh then refused to

allow me to hire my time longer. The ground

for his refusal was a failure on my part, one

Saturday night, to pay him for my week's

time. This failure was occasioned by my

attending a camp meeting about ten miles

from Baltimore. During the week, I had

entered into an engagement with a number of

young friends to start from Baltimore to the

camp ground early Saturday evening; and

being detained by my employer, I was unable

to get down to Master Hugh's without

disappointing the company. I knew that

Master Hugh was in no special need of the

money that night. I therefore decided to go to

camp meeting, and upon my return pay him

the three dollars. I staid at the camp meeting

one day longer than I intended when I left. But

as soon as I returned, I called upon him to pay

him what he considered his due. I found him

very angry; he could scarce restrain his wrath.

He said he had a great mind to give me a

severe whipping. He wished to know how I

dared go out of the city without asking his

permission. I told him I hired my time and

while I paid him the price which he asked for

it, I did not know that I was bound to ask him

when and where I should go. This reply

troubled him; and, after reflecting a few

moments, he turned to me, and said I should

hire my time no longer; that the next thing he

should know of, I would be running away.

Upon the same plea, he told me to bring my

tools and clothing home forthwith. I did so;

but instead of seeking work, as I had been

accustomed to do previously to hiring my

time, I spent the whole week without the

performance of a single stroke of work. I did

this in retaliation. Saturday night, he called

upon me as usual for my week's wages. I told

him I had no wages; I had done no work that

week. Here we were upon the point of coming

to blows. He raved, and swore his

determination to get hold of me. I did not

allow myself a single word; but was resolved,

if he laid the weight of his hand upon me, it

should be blow for blow. He did not strike me,

but told me that he would find me in constant

employment in future. I thought the matter

over during the next day, Sunday, and finally

resolved upon the third day of September, as

the day upon which I would make a second

attempt to secure my freedom. I now had three

weeks during which to prepare for my

journey. Early on Monday morning, before

Master Hugh had time to make any

engagement for me, I went out and got

employment of Mr. Butler, at his ship-yard

near the drawbridge, upon what is called the

City Block, thus making it unnecessary for

Page 58 of 63

him to seek employment for me. At the end

of the week, I brought him between eight and

nine dollars. He seemed very well pleased,

and asked why I did not do the same the

week before. He little knew what my plans

were. My object in working steadily was to

remove any suspicion he might entertain of

my intent to run away; and in this I succeeded

admirably. I suppose he thought I was never

better satisfied with my condition than at the

very time during which I was planning my

escape. The second week passed, and again I

carried him my full wages; and so well

pleased was he, that he gave me twenty- five

cents, (quite a large sum for a slaveholder to

give a slave,) and bade me to make a good

use of it. I told him I would.

Things went on without very

smoothly indeed, but within there was

trouble. It is impossible for me to describe

my feelings as the time of my contemplated

start drew near. I had a number of warm-

hearted friends in Baltimore,--friends that I

loved almost as I did my life,--and the

thought of being separated from them forever

was painful beyond expression. It is my

opinion that thousands would escape from

slavery, who now remain, but for the strong

cords of affection that bind them to their

friends. The thought of leaving my friends

was decidedly the most painful thought with

which I had to contend. The love of them was

my tender point, and shook my decision more

than all things else. Besides the pain of

separation, the dread and apprehension of a

failure exceeded what I had experienced at

my first attempt. The appalling defeat I then

sustained returned to torment me. I felt

assured that, if I failed in this attempt, my

case would be a hopeless one--it would seal

my fate as a slave forever. I could not hope to

get off with any thing less than the severest

punishment, and being placed beyond the

means of escape. It required no very vivid

imagination to depict the most frightful scenes

through which I should have to pass, in case I

failed. The wretchedness of slavery, and the

blessedness of freedom, were perpetually

before me. It was life and death with me. But

I remained firm, and, according to my

resolution, on the third day of September,

1838, I left my chains, and succeeded in

reaching New York without the slightest

interruption of any kind. How I did so,--what

means I adopted,--what direction I travelled,

and by what mode of conveyance,--I must

leave unexplained, for the reasons before

mentioned.

I have been frequently asked how I felt

when I found myself in a free State. I have

never been able to answer the question with

any satisfaction to myself. It was a moment of

the highest excitement I ever experienced. I

suppose I felt as one may imagine the

unarmed mariner to feel when he is rescued by

a friendly man-of-war from the pursuit of a

pirate. In writing to a dear friend, immediately

after my arrival at New York, I said I felt like

one who had escaped a den of hungry lions.

This state of mind, however, very soon

subsided; and I was again seized with a

feeling of great insecurity and loneliness. I

was yet liable to be taken back, and subjected

to all the tortures of slavery. This in itself was

enough to damp the ardor of my enthusiasm.

But the loneliness overcame me. There I was

in the midst of thousands, and yet a perfect

stranger; without home and without friends, in

the midst of thousands of my own

brethren--children of a common Father, and

yet I dared not to unfold to any one of them

my sad condition. I was afraid to speak to any

one for fear of speaking to the wrong one, and

thereby falling into the hands of money-loving

kidnappers, whose business it was to lie in

wait for the panting fugitive, as the ferocious

Page 59 of 63

beasts of the forest lie in wait for their prey.

The motto which I adopted when I started

from slavery was this--"Trust no man!" I saw

in every white man an enemy, and in almost

every colored man cause for distrust. It was a

most painful situation; and, to understand it,

one must needs experience it, or imagine

himself in similar circumstances. Let him be

a fugitive slave in a strange land--a land

given up to be the hunting- ground for

slaveholders--whose inhabitants are legalized

kidnappers--where he is every moment

subjected to the terrible liability of being

seized upon by his fellowmen, as the hideous

crocodile seizes upon his prey!--I say, let him

place himself in my situation--without home

or friends--without money or credit--wanting

shelter, and no one to give it-- wanting bread,

and no money to buy it,--and at the same time

let him feel that he is pursued by merciless

men-hunters, and in total darkness as to what

to do, where to go, or where to

stay,--perfectly helpless both as to the means

of defence and means of escape,--in the midst

of plenty, yet suffering the terrible gnawings

of hunger,--in the midst of houses, yet having

no home,--among fellow-men, yet feeling as

if in the midst of wild beasts, whose

greediness to swallow up the trembling and

half-famished fugitive is only equalled by

that with which the monsters of the deep

swallow up the helpless fish upon which they

subsist,--I say, let him be placed in this most

trying situation,--the situation in which I was

placed, --then, and not till then, will he fully

appreciate the hardships of, and know how to

sympathize with, the toil-worn and

whip-scarred fugitive slave.

Thank Heaven, I remained but a short

time in this distressed situation. I was

relieved from it by the humane hand of Mr.

DAVID RUGGLES, whose vigilance,

kindness, and perseverance, I shall never

forget. I am glad of an opportunity to express,

as far as words can, the love and gratitude I

bear him. Mr. Ruggles is now afflicted with

blindness, and is himself in need of the same

kind offices which he was once so forward in

the performance of toward others. I had been

in New York but a few days, when Mr.

Ruggles sought me out, and very kindly took

me to his boarding-house at the corner of

Church and Lespenard Streets. Mr. Ruggles

was then very deeply engaged in the

memorable ~Darg~ case, as well as attending

to a number of other fugitive slaves, devising

ways and means for their successful escape;

and, though watched and hemmed in on

almost every side, he seemed to be more than

a match for his enemies.

Very soon after I went to Mr. Ruggles,

he wished to know of me where I wanted to

go; as he deemed it unsafe for me to remain in

New York. I told him I was a calker, and

should like to go where I could get work. I

thought of going to Canada; but he decided

against it, and in favor of my going to New

Bedford, thinking I should be able to get work

there at my trade. At this time, Anna, [She

was free] my intended wife, came on; for I

wrote to her immediately after my arrival at

New York, (notwithstanding my homeless,

houseless, and helpless condition,) informing

her of my successful flight, and wishing her to

come on forthwith. In a few days after her

arrival, Mr. Ruggles called in the Rev. J. W.

C. Pennington, who, in the presence of Mr.

Ruggles, Mrs. Michaels, and two or three

others, performed the marriage ceremony, and

gave us a certificate, of which the following is

an exact copy:--

"This may certify, that I joined

together in holy matrimony Frederick

Johnson* and Anna Murray, as man

and wife, in the presence of Mr.

Page 60 of 63

David Ruggles and Mrs. Michaels.

"JAMES W. C. PENNINGTON

"NEW YORK, SEPT. 15, 1838"

* I had changed my name from

Frederick BAILEY to that of

JOHNSON

Upon receiving this certificate, and a

five-dollar bill from Mr. Ruggles, I

shouldered one part of our baggage, and

Anna took up the other, and we set out

forthwith to take passage on board of the

steamboat John W. Richmond for Newport,

on our way to New Bedford. Mr. Ruggles

gave me a letter to a Mr. Shaw in Newport,

and told me, in case my money did not serve

me to New Bedford, to stop in Newport and

obtain further assistance; but upon our arrival

at Newport, we were so anxious to get to a

place of safety, that, notwithstanding we

lacked the necessary money to pay our fare,

we decided to take seats in the stage, and

promise to pay when we got to New Bedford.

We were encouraged to do this by two

excellent gentlemen, residents of New

Bedford, whose names I afterward

ascertained to be Joseph Ricketson and

William C. Taber. They seemed at once to

understand our circumstances, and gave us

such assurance of their friendliness as put us

fully at ease in their presence. It was good

indeed to meet with such friends, at such a

time. Upon reaching New Bedford, we were

directed to the house of Mr. Nathan Johnson,

by whom we were kindly received, and

hospitably provided for. Both Mr. and Mrs.

Johnson took a deep and lively interest in our

welfare. They proved themselves quite

worthy of the name of abolitionists. When

the stage-driver found us unable to pay our

fare, he held on upon our baggage as security

for the debt. I had but to mention the fact to

Mr. Johnson, and he forthwith advanced the

money.

We now began to feel a degree of

safety, and to prepare ourselves for the duties

and responsibilities of a life of freedom. On

the morning after our arrival at New Bedford,

while at the breakfast-table, the question arose

as to what name I should be called by. The

name given me by my mother was, "Frederick

Augustus Washington Bailey." I, however,

had dispensed with the two middle names

long before I left Maryland so that I was

generally known by the name of "Frederick

Bailey." I started from Baltimore bearing the

name of "Stanley." When I got to New York,

I again changed my name to "Frederick

Johnson," and thought that would be the last

change. But when I got to New Bedford, I

found it necessary again to change my name.

The reason of this necessity was, that there

were so many Johnsons in New Bedford, it

was already quite difficult to distinguish

between them. I gave Mr. Johnson the

privilege of choosing me a name, but told him

he must not take from me the name of

"Frederick." I must hold on to that, to preserve

a sense of my identity. Mr. Johnson had just

been reading the "Lady of the Lake," and at

once suggested that my name be "Douglass."

From that time until now I have been called

"Frederick Douglass;" and as I am more

widely known by that name than by either of

the others, I shall continue to use it as my

own.

I was quite disappointed at the general

appearance of things in New Bedford. The

impression which I had received respecting

the character and condition of the people of

the north, I found to be singularly erroneous.

I had very strangely supposed, while in

slavery, that few of the comforts, and scarcely

any of the luxuries, of life were enjoyed at the

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north, compared with what were enjoyed by

the slaveholders of the south. I probably

came to this conclusion from the fact that

northern people owned no slaves. I supposed

that they were about upon a level with the

non-slaveholding population of the south. I

knew ~they~ were exceedingly poor, and I

had been accustomed to regard their poverty

as the necessary consequence of their being

non-slaveholders. I had somehow imbibed

the opinion that, in the absence of slaves,

there could be no wealth, and very little

refinement. And upon coming to the north, I

expected to meet with a rough, hard-handed,

and uncultivated population, living in the

most Spartan-like simplicity, knowing

nothing of the ease, luxury, pomp, and

grandeur of southern slaveholders. Such

being my conjectures, any one acquainted

with the appearance of New Bedford may

very readily infer how palpably I must have

seen my mistake.

In the afternoon of the day when I

reached New Bedford, I visited the wharves,

to take a view of the shipping. Here I found

myself surrounded with the strongest proofs

of wealth. Lying at the wharves, and riding in

the stream, I saw many ships of the finest

model, in the best order, and of the largest

size. Upon the right and left, I was walled in

by granite warehouses of the widest

dimensions, stowed to their utmost capacity

with the necessaries and comforts of life.

Added to this, almost every body seemed to

be at work, but noiselessly so, compared with

what I had been accustomed to in Baltimore.

There were no loud songs heard from those

engaged in loading and unloading ships. I

heard no deep oaths or horrid curses on the

laborer. I saw no whipping of men; but all

seemed to go smoothly on. Every man

appeared to understand his work, and went at

it with a sober, yet cheerful earnestness,

which betokened the deep interest which he

felt in what he was doing, as well as a sense of

his own dignity as a man. To me this looked

exceedingly strange. From the wharves I

strolled around and over the town, gazing with

wonder and admiration at the splendid

churches, b eautifu l dwellings, and

finely-cultivated gardens; evincing an amount

of wealth, comfort, taste, and refinement, such

as I had never seen in any part of slaveholding

Maryland.

Every thing looked clean, new, and

beautiful. I saw few or no dilapidated houses,

with poverty-stricken inmates; no half-naked

children and bare-footed women, such as I had

been accustomed to see in Hillsborough,

Easton, St. Michael's, and Baltimore. The

people looked more able, stronger, healthier,

and happier, than those of Maryland. I was for

once made glad by a view of extreme wealth,

without being saddened by seeing extreme

poverty. But the most astonishing as well as

the most interesting thing to me was the

condition of the colored people, a great many

of whom, like myself, had escaped thither as

a refuge from the hunters of men. I found

many, who had not been seven years out of

their chains, living in finer houses, and

evidently enjoying more of the comforts of

life, than the average of slaveholders in

Maryland. I will venture to assert, that my

friend Mr. Nathan Johnson (of whom I can say

with a grateful heart, "I was hungry, and he

gave me meat; I was thirsty, and he gave me

drink; I was a stranger, and he took me in")

lived in a neater house; dined at a better table;

took, paid for, and read, more newspapers;

better understood the moral, religious, and

political character of the nation,--than nine

tenths of the slaveholders in Talbot county

Maryland. Yet Mr. Johnson was a working

man. His hands were hardened by toil, and not

his alone, but those also of Mrs. Johnson. I

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found the colored people much more spirited

than I had supposed they would be. I found

among them a determination to protect each

other from the blood-thirsty kidnapper, at all

hazards. Soon after my arrival, I was told of

a circumstance which illustrated their spirit.

A colored man and a fugitive slave were on

unfriendly terms. The former was heard to

threaten the latter with informing his master

of his whereabouts. Straightway a meeting

was called among the colored people, under

the stereotyped notice, "Business of

importance!" The betrayer was invited to

attend. The people came at the appointed

hour, and organized the meeting by

appointing a very religious old gentleman as

president, who, I believe, made a prayer, after

which he addressed the meeting as follows:

"~Friends, we have got him here, and I would

recommend that you young men just take him

outside the door, and kill him!~" With this, a

number of them bolted at him; but they were

intercepted by some more timid than

themselves, and the betrayer escaped their

vengeance, and has not been seen in New

Bedford since. I believe there have been no

more such threats, and should there be

hereafter, I doubt not that death would be the

consequence.

I found employment, the third day

after my arrival, in stowing a sloop with a

load of oil. It was new, dirty, and hard work

for me; but I went at it with a glad heart and

a willing hand. I was now my own master. It

was a happy moment, the rapture of which

can be understood only by those who have

been slaves. It was the first work, the reward

of which was to be entirely my own. There

was no Master Hugh standing ready, the

moment I earned the money, to rob me of it.

I worked that day with a pleasure I had never

before experienced. I was at work for myself

and newly-married wife. It was to me the

starting-point of a new existence. When I got

through with that job, I went in pursuit of a

job of calking; but such was the strength of

prejudice against color, among the white

calkers, that they refused to work with me,

and of course I could get no employment. [I

am told that colored persons can now get

employment at calking in New Bedford--a

result of anti-slavery effort. did for nearly

three years in New Bedford, before I became

known to the anti-slavery world.] Finding my

trade of no immediate benefit, I threw off my

calking habiliments, and prepared myself to

do any kind of work I could get to do. Mr.

Johnson kindly let me have his wood-horse

and saw, and I very soon found myself a

plenty of work. There was no work too

hard--none too dirty. I was ready to saw wood,

shovel coal, carry wood, sweep the chimney,

or roll oil casks,--all of which I did.

In about four months after I went to

New Bedford, there came a young man to me,

and inquired if I did not wish to take the

"Liberator." I told him I did; but, just having

made my escape from slavery, I remarked that

I was unable to pay for it then. I, however,

finally became a subscriber to it. The paper

came, and I read it from week to week with

such feelings as it would be quite idle for me

to attempt to describe. The paper became my

meat and my drink. My soul was set all on

fire. Its sympathy for my brethren in bonds--its

scathing denunciations of slaveholders--its

faithful exposures of slavery--and its powerful

attacks upon the upholders of the

institution--sent a thrill of joy through my

soul, such as I had never felt before!

I had not long been a reader of the

"Liberator," before I got a pretty correct idea

of the principles, measures and spirit of the

anti-slavery reform. I took right hold of the

cause. I could do but little; but what I could, I

did with a joyful heart, and never felt happier

Page 63 of 63

than when in an anti-slavery meeting. I

seldom had much to say at the meetings,

because what I wanted to say was said so

much better by others. But, while attending

an anti-slavery convention at Nantucket, on

the 11th of August, 1841, I felt strongly

moved to speak, and was at the same time

much urged to do so by Mr. William C.

Coffin, a gentleman who had heard me speak

in the colored people's meeting at New

Bedford. It was a severe cross, and I took it

up reluctantly. The truth was, I felt myself a

slave, and the idea of speaking to white

people weighed me down. I spoke but a few

moments, when I felt a degree of freedom,

and said what I desired with considerable

ease. From that time until now, I have been

engaged in pleading the cause of my

brethren--with what success, and with what

devotion, I leave those acquainted with my

labors to decide.

~ END ~