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Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
Frederick Douglass
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Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
Frederick Douglass
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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
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CHAPTER I
I was born in Tuckahoe, near Hillsborough, and about twelve
miles from Easton, in Talbot county, Maryland. I have no accurate
knowledge of my age, never having seen any authentic record
containing it. By far the larger part of the slaves know as little
of their ages as horses know of theirs, and it is the wish of most
masters within my knowledge to keep their slaves thus ignorant. I
do not remember to have ever met a slave who could tell of his
birthday. They seldom come nearer to it than plantingâtime,
harvesttime, cherryâtime, springâtime, or fallâtime. 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 twentyâseven and
twentyâeight 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 infantâbefore 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 contraryâa
permission which they seldom get, and one that gives to him that
gives it the proud name of being a kind master. I do not recollect
of ever seeing my mother by the light of day. She was with me in
the night. She would lie down with me, and get me to sleep, but
long before I waked she was gone. Very little communication ever
took place between us. Death soon ended what little we could have
while she lived, and with it her hardships and suffering. She died
when I was about seven years old, on one of my master's farms, near
Lee's Mill. I was not allowed to be present during her illness, at
her death, or burial. She was gone long before I knew any thing
about it. Never having enjoyed, to any considerable extent, her
soothing presence, her tender and watchful care, I received the
tidings of her death with much the same emotions I should have
probably felt at the death of a stranger.
Called thus suddenly away, she left me without the slightest
intimation of who my father was. The whisper that my master was my
father, may or may not be true; and, true or false, it is of but
little consequence to my purpose whilst the fact remains, in all
its glaring odiousness, that slaveholders have ordained, and by law
established, that the children of slave women shall in all cases
follow the condition of their mothers; and this is done too
obviously to administer to their own lusts, and make a
gratification of their wicked desires profitable as well as
pleasurable; for by this cunning arrangement, the slaveholder, in
cases not a few, sustains to his slaves the double relation of
master and father.
I know of such cases; and it is worthy of remark that such
slaves invariably suffer greater hardships, and have more to
contend with, than others. They are, in the first place, a constant
offence to their mistress. She is ever disposed to find fault with
them; they can seldom do any thing to please her; she is never
better pleased than when she sees them under the lash, especially
when she suspects her husband of showing to his mulatto children
favors which he withholds from his black slaves. The master is
frequently compelled to sell this class of his slaves, out of
deference to the feelings of his white wife; and, cruel as the deed
may strike any one to be, for a man to sell his own children to
human fleshâmongers, 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
differentâlooking 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
Anthonyâa title which, I presume, he acquired by sailing a craft on
the Chesapeake Bay. He was not considered a rich slaveholder. He
owned two or three farms, and about thirty slaves. His farms and
slaves were under the care of an overseer. The overseer's name was
Plummer. Mr. Plummer was a miserable drunkard, a profane
swearer, and a savage monster. He always went armed with a cowskin
and a heavy cudgel. I have known him to cut and slash the women's
heads so horribly, that even master would be enraged at his
cruelty, and would threaten to whip him if he did not mind himself.
Master, however, was not a humane slaveholder. It required
extraordinary barbarity on the part of an overseer to affect him.
He was a cruel man, hardened by a long life of slaveholding. He
would at times seem to take great pleasure in whipping a slave. I
have often been awakened at the dawn of day by the most
heartârending 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 bloodâclotted 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
bloodâstained 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,âwhere or for what I do not know,âand 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 dââd bâ-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 dââd bâ-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 heartârending
shrieks from her, and horrid oaths from him) came dripping to the
floor. I was so terrified and horrorâstricken at the sight, that I
hid myself in a closet, and dared not venture out till long after
the bloody transaction was over. I expected it would be my turn
next. It was all new to me. I had never seen any thing like it
before. I had always lived with my grandmother on the outskirts of
the plantation, where she was put to raise the children of the
younger women. I had therefore been, until now, out of the way of
the bloody scenes that often occurred on the plantation.
Â
CHAPTER II
My master's family consisted of two sons, Andrew and Richard;
one daughter, Lucretia, and her husband, Captain Thomas Auld. They
lived in one house, upon the home plantation of Colonel Edward
Lloyd. My master was Colonel Lloyd's clerk and superintendent. He
was what might be called the overseer of the overseers. I spent two
years of childhood on this plantation in my old master's family. It
was here that I witnessed the bloody transaction recorded in the
first chapter; and as I received my first impressions of slavery on
this plantation, I will give some description of it, and of slavery
as it there existed. The plantation is about twelve miles north of
Easton, in Talbot county, and is situated on the border of Miles
River. The principal products raised upon it were tobacco, corn,
and wheat. These were raised in great abundance; so that, with the
products of this and the other farms belonging to him, he was able
to keep in almost constant employment a large sloop, in carrying
them to market at Baltimore. This sloop was named Sally Lloyd, in
honor of one of the colonel's daughters. My master's sonâinâlaw,
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
slaveâtrader, as a warning to the slaves remaining.
Here, too, the slaves of all the other farms received their
monthly allowance of food, and their yearly clothing. The men and
women slaves received, as their monthly allowance of food, eight
pounds of pork, or its equivalent in fish, and one bushel of corn
meal. Their yearly clothing consisted of two coarse linen shirts,
one pair of linen trousers, like the shirts, one jacket, one pair
of trousers for winter, made of coarse negro cloth, one pair of
stockings, and one pair of shoes; the whole of which could not have
cost more than seven dollars. The allowance of the slave children
was given to their mothers, or the old women having the care of
them. The children unable to work in the field had neither shoes,
stockings, jackets, nor trousers, given to them; their clothing
consisted of two coarse linen shirts per year. When these failed
them, they went naked until the next allowanceâday. 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,âthe cold, damp floor,âeach 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 grainâgrinding, were all
performed by the slaves on the home plantation. The whole place
wore a businessâlike 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 outâfarms, 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 outâfarms 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
officeâseekers 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 fellowâslaves, 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 outâif not in the
word, in the sound;âand 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:â
I am going away to the Great House Farm!
O, yea! O, yea! O!
This they would sing, as a chorus, to words which to many would
seem unmeaning jargon, but which, nevertheless, were full of
meaning to themselves. I have sometimes thought that the mere
hearing of those songs would do more to impress some minds with the
horrible character of slavery, than the reading of whole volumes of
philosophy on the subject could do.
I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meaning of those
rude and apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the
circle; so that I neither saw nor heard as those without might see
and hear. They told a tale of woe which was then altogether beyond
my feeble comprehension; they were tones loud, long, and deep; they
breathed the prayer and complaint of souls boiling over with the
bitterest anguish. Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and
a prayer to God for deliverance from chains. The hearing of those
wild notes always depressed my spirit, and filled me with ineffable
sadness. I have frequently found myself in tears while hearing
them. The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, afflicts me;
and while I am writing these lines, an expression of feeling has
already found its way down my cheek. To those songs I trace my
first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing character of
slavery. I can never get rid of that conception. Those songs still
follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my
sympathies for my brethren in bonds. If any one wishes to be
impressed with the soulâkilling effects of slavery, let him go to
Colonel Lloyd's plantation, and, on allowanceâday, 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,âand if he
is not thus impressed, it will only be because "there is no flesh
in his obdurate heart."
I have often been utterly astonished, since I came to the north,
to find persons who could speak of the singing, among slaves, as
evidence of their contentment and happiness. It is impossible to
conceive of a greater mistake. Slaves sing most when they are most
unhappy. The songs of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart;
and he is relieved by them, only as an aching heart is relieved by
its tears. At least, such is my experience. I have often sung to
drown my sorrow, but seldom to express my happiness. Crying for
joy, and singing for joy, were alike uncommon to me while in the
jaws of slavery. The singing of a man cast away upon a desolate
island might be as appropriately considered as evidence of
contentment and happiness, as the singing of a slave; the songs of
the one and of the other are prompted by the same emotion.
CHAPTER III
Colo...