Newcomer funeral home syracuse ny

History

Question:
◦ Were the experiences of male and female slaves similar or different in

the nineteenth-century South?

Reading:
1) Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
2) Deborah Gray White, Arn’t I a Woman
3) Any pertinent documents from textbook and document collection

Requirements:

1) Papers must be at least 1,000 words long

2) Footnotes are required

3) Bibliography is required

4) Please number pages

5) Please include a title page
MLA format
video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2f8S_SuWbo

Sources:

1)https://lcomiller.weebly.com/uploads/1/1/0/0/110057931/chapter_4.pdf

2)https://www.ibiblio.org/ebooks/Douglass/Narrative/Douglass_Narrative.pdf

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 foll owing 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 feeli ng his curiosity excited to ascertain the principles and measures of the aboliti onists,—of whom he had heard a somewhat vague description whil e he was a slave,—he was induced to give his attendance, on the occasion all uded to, though at that time a resident in New Bedford.

Fortunate, most fortunate occurrence!—fortunate for the milli ons of his manacled brethren, yet panting for deli verance from their awful thraldom!—fortunate for the cause of negro emancipation, and of universal li berty!—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 multit udes, in various parts of our republi c, whose minds he has enli ghtened 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,

PREFACE vi

“ gave the world assurance of a MAN,” quickened the slumbering energies of his soul, and consecrated him to the great work of breaking the rod of the oppressor, and letting the oppressed go free!

I shall never forget his first speech at the convention—the extraordinary emotion it excited in my own mind—the powerful impression it created upon a crowded auditory, completely taken by surprise—the applause which foll owed from the beginning to the end of his feli citous 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 godli ke nature of its victims, was rendered far more clear than ever. There stood one, in physical proportion and stature commanding and exact—in intell ect richly endowed—in natural eloquence a prodigy—in soul manifestly “ created but a littl e lower than the angels” —yet a slave, ay, a fugiti ve slave,— trembli ng for his safety, hardly daring to beli eve 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 intell ectual and moral being—needing nothing but a comparatively small amount of culti vation 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 prevail ed on Mr. DOUGLASS to address the convention. He came forward to the platform with a hesitancy and embarrassment, necessarily the attendants of a sensiti ve mind in such a novel positi on. After apologizing for his ignorance, and reminding the audience that slavery was a poor school for the human intell ect 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

PREFACE vii

noble thoughts and thrilli ng reflections. As soon as he had taken his seat, fill ed with hope and admiration, I rose, and declared that PATRICK HENRY, of revolutionary fame, never made a speech more eloquent in the cause of li berty, than the one we had just li stened to from the li ps of that hunted fugiti ve. So I beli eved at that time—such is my beli ef 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 Pil grim Fathers, among the descendants of revolutionary sires; and I appealed to them, whether they would ever all ow 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 startli ng, that the ruthless tyrants south of Mason and Dixon’ s li ne might almost have heard the mighty burst of feeli ng, 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 infli cted 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 eff ort by warm-hearted friends, especially by the late General Agent of the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society, Mr. JOHN A. COLL INS, whose judgment in this instance entirely coincided with my own. At first, he could give no encouragement; with unfeigned

PREFACE viii

diff idence, 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 deli beration, 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 publi c mind, has far surpassed the most sanguine expectations that were raised at the commencement of his brill iant career. He has borne himself with gentleness and meekness, yet with true manli ness of character. As a publi c 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 enli ghtenment 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 eff icient advocates of the slave population, now before the publi c, is a fugiti ve 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 multit udes on both sides of the Atlantic. Let the calumniators of the colored race despise themselves for their baseness and illi berali ty of spirit, and henceforth cease to talk of the natural i nferiority of those who require nothing but time and opportunity to attain to the highest point of human excell ence.

PREFACE ix

It may, perhaps, be fairly questioned, whether any other portion of the population of the earth could have endured the privations, suff erings 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 intell ects, darken their minds, debase their moral nature, oblit erate all t races 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 ill ustrate the effect of slavery on the white man,— to show that he has no powers of endurance, in such a conditi on, 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 foll owing anecdote in a speech deli vered by him in the Concili ation Hall , Dubli n, 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 brutali ze every noble faculty of man. An American sail or, 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 stulti fied— he had lost all reasoning power; and having forgotten his native language, could only utter some savage gibberish between Arabic and Engli sh, which nobody could understand, and which even he himself found diff iculty in pronouncing. So much for the humanizing influence of THE DOMESTIC INSTITUTION!” Admitting this to have been an extraordinary case of mental deterioration, it proves at least that the white slave can sink as low in the scale of humanity as the black one.

Mr. DOUGLASS has very properly chosen to write his own Narrative, in his own style, and according to the best of his

PREFACE x

abili ty, 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 opportuniti es to improve his mind since he broke his iron fetters,—it i s, in my judgment, highly creditable to his head and heart. He who can peruse it without a tearful eye, a heaving breast, an affli cted spirit,—without being filled with an unutterable abhorrence of slavery and all it s abettors, and animated with a determination to seek the immediate overthrow of that execrable system,—without trembli ng 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 fli nty heart, and be quali fied to act the part of a traff icker “ in slaves and the souls of men.” I am confident that it is essentially true in all it s statements; that nothing has been set down in mali ce, nothing exaggerated, nothing drawn from the imagination; that it comes short of the reali ty, rather than overstates a single fact in regard to SLAVERY AS IT IS. The experience of FREDERICK DOUGLASS, as a slave, was not a peculi ar 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 i s conceded that they are better fed and less cruelly treated than in Georgia, Alabama, or Louisiana. Many have suffered incomparably more, whil e very few on the plantations have suff ered less, than himself. Yet how deplorable was his situation! what terrible chastisements were infli cted upon his person! what still m ore shocking outrages were perpetrated upon his mind! with all his noble powers and sublime aspirations, how li ke a brute was he treated, even by those professing to have the same mind in them that was in Christ Jesus! to what dreadful li abiliti es was he continually subjected! how destitute of friendly counsel and aid, even in his greatest extremities! how heavy was the midnight of woe which

PREFACE xi

shrouded in blackness the last ray of hope, and fill ed 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 intelli gent,—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 peril s he encountered in his endeavors to escape from his horrible doom! and how signal have been his deli verance and preservation in the midst of a nation of pitil ess enemies!

This Narrative contains many affecting incidents, many passages of great eloquence and power; but I think the most thrilli ng one of them all is the description DOUGLASS gives of his feeli ngs, as he stood solil oquizing 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 li ving spirit of freedom. Who can read that passage, and be insensible to its pathos and sublimity? Compressed into it i s a whole Alexandrian li brary of thought, feeli ng, and sentiment—all t hat can, all t hat need be urged, in the form of expostulation, entreaty, rebuke, against that crime of crimes,—making man the property of his fell ow-man! O, how accursed is that system, which entombs the godli ke 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 t hat is call ed 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!

PREFACE xii

So profoundly ignorant of the nature of slavery are many persons, that they are stubbornly incredulous whenever they read or li sten to any recital of the cruelti es which are daily infli cted 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 t hem of cruel scourgings, of mutil ations and brandings, of scenes of poll ution and blood, of the banishment of all li ght and knowledge, and they affect to be greatly indignant at such enormous exaggerations, such wholesale misstatements, such abominable li bels on the character of the southern planters! As if all t hese direful outrages were not the natural results of slavery! As if it were less cruel to reduce a human being to the conditi on of a thing, than to give him a severe flagell ation, or to deprive him of necessary food and clothing! As if whips, chains, thumb-screws, paddles, bloodhounds, overseers, drivers, patrols, were not all indispensable to keep the slaves down, and to give protection to their ruthless oppressors! As if, when the marriage institution is aboli shed, concubinage, adultery, and incest, must not necessarily abound; when all t he rights of humanity are annihil ated, any barrier remains to protect the victim from the fury of the spoil er; when absolute power is assumed over li fe and li berty, it will not be wielded with destructive sway! Skeptics of this character abound in society. In some few instances, their increduli ty arises from a want of reflection; but, generally, it i ndicates 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 t ry to discredit the shocking tales of slaveholding cruelty which are recorded in this truthful Narrative; but they will l abor 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

PREFACE xiii

also of those who committed the crimes which he has all eged 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 i nvestigation. The Baltimore American, of March 17, 1845, relates a simil ar case of atrocity, perpetrated with simil ar impunity—as foll ows:— “ 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 i s beli eved, holds an off ice at Washington, kill ed one of the slaves upon his father’ s farm by shooting him. The letter states that young Matthews had been left in charge of the farm; that he gave an order to the servant, which was disobeyed, when he proceeded to the house, obtained a gun, and, returning, shot the servant. He immediately, the letter continues, fled to his father’ s residence, where he still remains unmolested.” —Let it never be forgotten, that no slaveholder or overseer can be convicted of any outrage perpetrated on the person of a slave, however diaboli cal 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 infli cted on them with impunity.

PREFACE xiv

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 foll owing Narrative, and shown to be any thing but salutary. In the nature of the case, it must be in the highest degree pernicious. The testimony of Mr. DOUGLASS, on this point, is sustained by a cloud of witnesses, whose veracity is unimpeachable. “ A slaveholder’ s profession of Christianity is a palpable imposture. He is a felon of the highest grade. He is a man-stealer. It is of no importance what you put in the other scale.”

Reader! are you with the man-stealers in sympathy and purpose, or on the side of their down-trodden victims? If with the former, then are you the foe of God and man. If with the latter, what are you prepared to do and dare in their behalf? Be faithful, be vigil ant, be untiring in your eff orts 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 politi cal motto—“ NO COMPROMISE WITH SLAVERY! NO UNION WITH SLAVEHOLDERS!”

WM. LL OYD GARRISON.

BOSTON, May 1, 1845.

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 li on complained that he should not be so misrepresented “ when the li ons wrote history.”

I am glad the time has come when the “ li ons 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 suff iciently satisfied with what, it i s evident, must be, in general, the results of such a relation, without seeking farther to find whether they have foll owed 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 aboliti onists are to be made. I remember that, in 1838, many were waiti ng 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 li fe.

LETTER FROM WENDELL PHILL IPS, ESQ. xvi

I was glad to learn, in your story, how early the most neglected of God’ s chil dren 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 sail s” 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 recoll ections peculi arly 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 li nes to the picture, as she travels southward to that (for the colored man) Vall ey 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 kindli ness has neutrali zed, for a moment, the deadly system with which it was strangely alli ed. You have been with us, too, some years, and can fairly compare the twili ght 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-f ree colored man of Massachusetts is worse off than the pampered slave of the rice swamps!

In reading your li fe, no one can say that we have unfairly picked out some rare specimens of cruelty. We know that the

LETTER FROM WENDELL PHILL IPS, ESQ. xvii

bitter drops, which even you have drained from the cup, are no incidental aggravations, no individual ill s, but such as must mingle always and necessarily in the lot of every slave. They are the essential i ngredients, not the occasional results, of the system.

After all , I shall read your book with trembli ng 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, til l 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 to tell their names! They say the fathers, in 1776, signed the Declaration of Independence with the halter about their necks. You, too, publi sh your declaration of freedom with danger compassing you around. In all t he broad lands which the Constitution of the United States overshadows, there is no single spot,—however narrow or desolate,—where a fugiti ve 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, trampli ng 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 cruelti es of which he has been the victim.

LETTER FROM WENDELL PHILL IPS, ESQ. xviii

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, li ke you, have been saved, so as by fire, from the dark prison-house, shall stereotype these free, ill egal 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 whil e 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 Caroli nas, and make the broken-hearted bondman leap up at the thought of old Massachusetts.

God speed the day!

Till t hen, and ever,

Yours truly,

WENDELL PHILL IPS.

FREDERICK DOUGLASS.

NARRATIVE

OF THE

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS.

CHAPTER I. I WAS born in Tuckahoe, near Hill sborough, 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 littl e of their ages as horses know of theirs, and it i s 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 chil dhood. The white chil dren could tell t heir ages. I could not tell why I ought to be deprived of the same privil ege. I was not all owed 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 Bail ey. She was the daughter of Isaac and Betsey Bail ey, both colored, and quite

NARRATIVE OF THE 2

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 chil dren from their mothers at a very early age. Frequently, before the chil d 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 chil d’ s affection toward its mother, and to blunt and destroy the natural affection of the mother for the chil d. This is the inevitable result.

I never saw my mother, to know her as such, more than four or five times in my li fe; and each of these times was very short in duration, and at night. She was hired by a Mr. Stewart, who li ved about twelve miles from my home. She made her journeys to see me in the night, travelli ng 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 recoll ect of ever seeing my mother by the li ght of day. She was with me in the night. She would li e down with me, and get me to sleep, but long before I waked she was gone. Very littl e communication ever took place between us. Death soon ended what little we could have whil e she li ved, and

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 3

with it her hardships and suff ering. She died when I was about seven years old, on one of my master’ s farms, near Lee’ s Mill . I was not all owed to be present during her ill ness, at her death, or burial. She was gone long before I knew any thing about it. Never having enjoyed, to any considerable extent, her soothing presence, her tender and watchful care, I received the tidings of her death with much the same emotions I should have probably felt at the death of a stranger.

Call ed thus suddenly away, she left me without the sli ghtest 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 i s of but littl e consequence to my purpose whil st the fact remains, in all it s glaring odiousness, that slaveholders have ordained, and by law establi shed, that the chil dren of slave women shall i n all cases foll ow the conditi on 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 i s worthy of remark that such slaves invariably suff er greater hardships, and have more to contend with, than others. They are, in the first place, a constant off ence 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 chil dren favors which he withholds from his black slaves. The master is frequently compell ed to sell t his class of his slaves, out of deference to the feeli ngs of his white wife; and, cruel as the deed may strike any one to be, for a man to sell his own chil dren to human flesh-mongers, it i s often the dictate of humanity for him to do so; for, unless he does this, he must

NARRATIVE OF THE 4

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 li sp one word of disapproval, it is set down to his parental partiali ty, and only makes a bad matter worse, both for himself and the slave whom he would protect and defend.

Every year brings with it multit udes 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 fulfill ed or not, it i s 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 li neal descendants of Ham are alone to be scripturally enslaved, it i s certain that slavery at the south must soon become unscriptural; for thousands are ushered into the world, annually, who, li ke 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 call ed Captain Anthony—a titl e which, I presume, he acquired by saili ng 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

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 5

himself. Master, however, was not a humane slaveholder. It required extraordinary barbarity on the part of an overseer to aff ect him. He was a cruel man, hardened by a long li fe of slaveholding. He would at times seem to take great pleasure in whipping a slave. I have often been awakened at the dawn of day by the most heart-rending shrieks of an own aunt of mine, whom he used to tie up to a joist, and whip upon her naked back till she was lit erally 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 chil d, but I well remember it. I never shall forget it whil st 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 feeli ngs with which I beheld it.

This occurrence took place very soon after I went to li ve with my old master, and under the foll owing 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 call ed 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

NARRATIVE OF THE 6

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 whil e whipping her, was the chief off ence. 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, calli ng 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 l ength, so that she stood upon the ends of her toes. He then said to her, “ Now, you d——d b——h, I’ ll l earn you how to disobey my orders!” and after rolli ng 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 til l 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 li ke it before. I had always li ved with my grandmother on the outskirts of the plantation, where she was put to raise the chil dren of the younger women. I had therefore been, until now, out of the way of the bloody scenes that often occurred on the plantation.

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 7

CHAPTER II. MY master’ s family consisted of two sons, Andrew and

Richard; one daughter, Lucretia, and her husband, Captain Thomas Auld. They li ved 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 call ed the overseer of the overseers. I spent two years of chil dhood 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 Mil es 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 privil eged ones of the plantation; for it was no small aff air, in the eyes of the slaves, to be all owed 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

NARRATIVE OF THE 8

Design. “ Wye Town” was under the overseership of a man named Noah Willi s. New Design was under the overseership of a Mr. Townsend. The overseers of these, and all t he 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 t he other farms received their monthly all owance of food, and their yearly clothing. The men and women slaves received, as their monthly all owance of food, eight pounds of pork, or its equivalent in fish, and one bushel of corn meal. Their yearly clothing consisted of two coarse li nen shirts, one pair of li nen trousers, li ke the shirts, one jacket, one pair of trousers for winter, made of coarse negro cloth, one pair of stockings, and one pair of shoes; the whole of which could not have cost more than seven doll ars. The allowance of the slave chil dren was given to their mothers, or the old women having the care of them. The chil dren 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 fail ed them, they went naked until t he next all owance-day. Chil dren 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 diff iculty from the want of beds, than

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 9

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 faciliti es 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 t hey 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 feeli ng: 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 chil dren, 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 stiff en 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 t he 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

NARRATIVE OF THE 10

he li ved, 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 fill ed 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 call ed by the slaves a good overseer.

The home plantation of Colonel Lloyd wore the appearance of a country vill age. All the mechanical operations for all t he farms were performed here. The shoemaking and mending, the blacksmithing, cartwrighting, coopering, weaving, and grain- grinding, were all performed by the slaves on the home plantation. The whole place wore a business-li ke aspect very unli ke the neighboring farms. The number of houses, too, conspired to give it advantage over the neighboring farms. It was call ed by the slaves the Great House Farm. Few privil eges 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 privil ege, one worth careful li ving for. He was call ed the smartest and most trusty fell ow, who had this honor conferred upon him the most frequently. The competitors for this off ice sought as dili gently to please their overseers, as the off ice-seekers in the politi cal parties seek to please and deceive the people. The same traits of character might be seen

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 11

in Colonel Lloyd’ s slaves, as are seen in the slaves of the politi cal parties.

The slaves selected to go to the Great House Farm, for the monthly all owance for themselves and their fell ow-slaves, were peculi arly enthusiastic. Whil e on their way, they would make the dense old woods, for miles around, reverberate with their wil d songs, reveali ng at once the highest joy and the deepest sadness. They would compose and sing as they went along, consulti ng 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 exulti ngly the foll owing 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 phil osophy 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

NARRATIVE OF THE 12

boili ng over with the bitterest anguish. Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deli verance from chains. The hearing of those wil d notes always depressed my spirit, and fill ed me with ineff able sadness. I have frequently found myself in tears whil e hearing them. The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, aff li cts me; and whil e I am writi ng these li nes, an expression of feeli ng 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 foll ow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my sympathies for my brethren in bonds. If any one wishes to be impressed with the soul-killi ng eff ects of slavery, let him go to Colonel Lloyd’ s plantation, and, on all owance-day, place himself in the deep pine woods, and there let him, in sil ence, 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 reli eved by them, only as an aching heart is reli eved 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 ali ke uncommon to me whil e 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.

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 13

CHAPTER III. COLONEL LLOYD kept a large and finely culti vated garden,

which aff orded 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 Annapoli s—to see it. It abounded in fruits of almost every description, from the hardy apple of the north to the deli cate orange of the south. This garden was not the least source of trouble on the plantation. Its excell ent 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; t he slaves became as fearful of tar as of the lash. They seemed to reali ze the impossibili ty of touching tar without being defil ed.

The colonel also kept a splendid riding equipage. His stable and carriage-house presented the appearance of some of our large city li very establi shments. 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.

NARRATIVE OF THE 14

This establi shment was under the care of two slaves—old Barney and young Barney—father and son. To attend to this establi shment was their sole work. But it was by no means an easy employment; for in nothing was Colonel Lloyd more particular than in the management of his horses. The slightest inattention to these was unpardonable, and was visited upon those, under whose care they were placed, with the severest punishment; no excuse could shield them, if the colonel only suspected any want of attention to his horses—a suppositi on which he frequently indulged, and one which, of course, made the off ice 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 suff iciently 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 t hese 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, li sten, and tremble; and such was lit erally 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

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 15

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 li ved at the Great House Farm, and enjoyed the luxury of whipping the servants when they pleased, from old Barney down to Willi am Wil kes, the coach-driver. I have seen Winder make one of the house-servants stand off fr om 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 t he slaves of the out-farms know him. It is reported of him, that, whil e 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 publi c 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 i s.”

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 t wo 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

NARRATIVE OF THE 16

penalty of telli ng the truth, of telli ng the simple truth, in answer to a series of plain questions.

It is partly in consequence of such facts, that slaves, when inquired of as to their conditi on 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 feeli ngs in regard to their conditi on. The frequency of this has had the effect to establi sh among the slaves the maxim, that a still t ongue makes a wise head. They suppress the truth rather than take the consequences of telli ng it, and in so doing prove themselves a part of the human family. If they have any thing to say of their masters, it i s 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 li ke 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 i s 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

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 17

most of a man. Colonel Lloyd’ s slaves would boast his abili ty to buy and sell Jacob Jepson. Mr. Jepson’ s slaves would boast his abili ty 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!

NARRATIVE OF THE 18

CHAPTER IV. MR. HOPKINS remained but a short time in the off ice 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 t hose traits of character indispensable to what is call ed 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, ambiti ous, 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 sli ghtest 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 all owed 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 suff er 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 avail ed 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 foll owing 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

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 19

to demand the most debasing homage of the slave, and quite servil e enough to crouch, himself, at the feet of the master. He was ambiti ous enough to be contented with nothing short of the highest rank of overseers, and persevering enough to reach the height of his ambiti on. He was cruel enough to infli ct 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 t he 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 trembli ng 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 wil l 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-li ke coolness.

His savage barbarity was equall ed only by the consummate coolness with which he committed the grossest and most savage deeds upon the slaves under his charge. Mr. Gore once undertook to whip one of Colonel Lloyd’ s slaves, by the name of Demby. He had given Demby but few stripes, when, to get rid of the scourging, he ran and plunged himself into a creek, and stood there at the depth of his shoulders, refusing to come out. Mr. Gore told him that he would give him three call s, and

NARRATIVE OF THE 20

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 call s were given with the same result. Mr. Gore then, without consultation or deli beration with any one, not even giving Demby an additi onal 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 coll ected. 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 suff ered 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 li fe, 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 i nvestigation. It was committed in the presence of slaves, and they of course could neither institute a suit, nor testify against him; and thus the guil ty perpetrator of one of the bloodiest and most foul murders goes unwhipped of justice, and uncensured by the community in which he li ves. Mr. Gore li ved in St. Michael’ s, Talbot county, Maryland, when I left there; and if he is still ali ve, he very probably li ves there now; and if so, he is now, as he was then, as highly esteemed

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 21

and as much respected as though his guil ty soul had not been stained with his brother’ s blood.

I speak advisedly when I say this,—that killi ng 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, kill ed two slaves, one of whom he kill ed 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 reli eved of “ the d——d niggers.”

The wife of Mr. Gil es Hicks, li ving but a short distance from where I used to li ve, murdered my wife’ s cousin, a young girl between fifteen and sixteen years of age, mangli ng her person in the most horrible manner, breaking her nose and breastbone with a stick, so that the poor girl expired in a few hours afterward. She was immediately buried, but had not been in her untimely grave but a few hours before she was taken up and examined by the coroner, who decided that she had come to her death by severe beating. The offence for which this girl was thus murdered was this:—She had been set that night to mind Mrs. Hicks’ s baby, and during the night she fell asleep, and the baby cried. She, having lost her rest for several nights previous, did not hear the crying. They were both in the room with Mrs. Hicks. Mrs. Hicks, finding the girl slow to move, jumped from her bed, seized an oak stick of wood by the fireplace, and with it broke the girl’ s nose and breastbone, and thus ended her li fe. 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

NARRATIVE OF THE 22

only punishment, but even the pain of being arraigned before a court for her horrid crime.

Whil st I am detaili ng 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 all owance. An old man belonging to Colonel Lloyd, whil e thus engaged, happened to get beyond the limit s of Colonel Lloyd’ s, and on the premises of Mr. Beal Bondly. At this trespass, Mr. Bondly took off ence, 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 littl e said about it at all , and nothing done. It was a common saying, even among littl e white boys, that it was worth a half-cent to kill a “ nigger,” and a half-cent to bury one.

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 23

CHAPTER V. AS to my own treatment whil e I li ved on Colonel Lloyd’ s

plantation, it was very similar to that of the other slave chil dren. I was not old enough to work in the field, and there being littl e 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 all ow the older boys to impose upon me, and would divide his cakes with me.

I was seldom whipped by my old master, and suffered littl e from any thing else than hunger and cold. I suffered much from hunger, but much more from cold. In hottest summer and coldest winter, I was kept almost naked—no shoes, no stockings, no jacket, no trousers, nothing on but a coarse tow li nen 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 writi ng might be laid in the gashes.

We were not regularly all owanced. Our food was coarse corn meal boil ed. This was call ed mush. It was put into a large wooden tray or trough, and set down upon the ground. The

NARRATIVE OF THE 24

chil dren were then call ed, li ke so many pigs, and li ke so many pigs they would come and devour the mush; some with oyster- shell s, 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 intell igence that my old master (Anthony) had determined to let me go to Baltimore, to li ve 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 t hese 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 t he dirt off me. The thought of owning a pair of trousers was great indeed! It was almost a suff icient motive, not only to make me take off what would be call ed 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 chil dren to their homes were all suspended in my case. I found no severe trial i n 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,

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 25

my grandmother li ved far off , so that I seldom saw her. I had two sisters and one brother, that li ved 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 reli sh 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 abili ty to endure them elsewhere, and especially at Balti more; for I had something of the feeli ng about Baltimore that is expressed in the proverb, that “ being hanged in England is preferable to dying a natural death in Ireland.” I had the strongest desire to see Baltimore. Cousin Tom, though not fluent in speech, had inspired me with that desire by his eloquent description of the place. I could never point out any thing at the Great House, no matter how beautiful or powerful, but that he had seen something at Baltimore far exceeding, both in beauty and strength, the object which I pointed out to him. Even the Great House itself, with all it s pictures, was far inferior to many buil dings 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 sail ed out of Mil es 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

NARRATIVE OF THE 26

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 Annapoli s, 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 vill ages, I thought it a wonderful place for its size—more imposing even than the Great House Farm!

We arrived at Baltimore early on Sunday morning, landing at Smith’ s Wharf, not far from Bowley’ s Wharf. We had on board the sloop a large flock of sheep; and after aiding in driving them to the slaughterhouse of Mr. Curtis on Louden Slater’ s Hill , I was conducted by Rich, one of the hands belonging on board of the sloop, to my new home in Alli ciana Street, near Mr. Gardner’ s ship-yard, on Fell s Point.

Mr. and Mrs. Auld were both at home, and met me at the door with their littl e 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 li ght of happiness. Littl e Thomas was told, there was his Freddy,—and I was told to take care of littl e 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 li fe. 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, writi ng this

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 27

Narrative, been confined in the galli ng chains of slavery. Going to li ve 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 li fe with so many favors. I regarded the selection of myself as being somewhat remarkable. There were a number of slave chil dren 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 superstiti ous, and even egotistical, in regarding this event as a special i nterpositi on of divine Providence in my favor. But I should be false to the earli est 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 earli est recoll ection, 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 li ving word of faith and spirit of hope departed not from me, but remained li ke ministering angels to cheer me through the gloom. This good spirit was from God, and to him I off er thanksgiving and praise.

NARRATIVE OF THE 28

CHAPTER VI. MY new mistress proved to be all she appeared when I first

met her at the door,—a woman of the kindest heart and finest feeli ngs. 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 li ving. She was by trade a weaver; and by constant appli cation to her business, she had been in a good degree preserved from the bli ghting and dehumanizing eff ects of slavery. I was utterly astonished at her goodness. I scarcely knew how to behave towards her. She was entirely unli ke 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 servili ty, usually so acceptable a quali ty 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 feeli ng 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 angeli c face gave place to that of a demon.

Very soon after I went to li ve with Mr. and Mrs. Auld, she very kindly commenced to teach me the A, B, C. After I had

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 29

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, telli ng 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 t ake an ell . A nigger should know 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 call ed 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 diff iculty—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. Whil st 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 diff iculty 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

NARRATIVE OF THE 30

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 dil igently 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 oppositi on 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 privil eges 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 willi ng to incur the odium attaching to the reputation of being a cruel master; and above all t hings, they would not be known as not giving a slave enough to eat. Every city slaveholder is anxious to have it known of him, that he feeds his slaves well; and it i s 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 Phil pot Street, li ved 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 t he mangled and emaciated creatures I ever looked upon, these two were the most so. His heart must be harder than stone,

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 31

that could look upon these unmoved. The head, neck, and shoulders of Mary were literally cut to 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 i n 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 l ashings 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 call ed “ pecked” than by her name.

NARRATIVE OF THE 32

CHAPTER VII. I LIVED in Master Hugh’ s family about seven years. During

this time, I succeeded in learning to read and write. In accompli shing this, I was compell ed 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 li ve 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 suff ering 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 abili ty to divest her of these heavenly quali ties. Under its influence, the tender heart became stone, and the lambli ke dispositi on gave way to one of tiger-li ke fierceness. The first

LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 33

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 littl e 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 call ed to give an account of myself. All t his, 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 t he littl e 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 diff erent times and in diff erent 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 chil dren in our neighborhood. This bread I used to bestow upon the hungry littl e urchins, who, in return, would give me that more valuable bread of knowledge. I am strongly tempted to give the names of