My Bondage and My Freedom
severed, or they never had any existence in my case, at least so far as
the home plantation of Col. L. was concerned. I therefore found no
severe trail at the moment of my departure, such as I had experienced
when separated from my home in Tuckahoe. My home at my old master’s was
charmless to me; it was not home, but a prison to me; on parting from
it, I could not feel that I was leaving anything which I could have
enjoyed by staying. My mother was now long dead; my grandmother was far
away, so that I seldom saw her; Aunt Katy was my unrelenting tormentor;
and my two sisters and brothers, owing to our early separation in life,
and the family-destroying power of slavery, were, comparatively,
strangers to me. The fact of our relationship was almost blotted out. I
looked for _home_ elsewhere, and was confident of finding none which I
should relish less than the one I was leaving. If, however, I found in
my new home to which I was going with such blissful
anticipations—hardship, whipping and nakedness, I had the questionable
consolation that I should not have escaped any one of these evils by
remaining under the management of Aunt Katy. Then, too, I thought,
since I had endured much in this line on Lloyd’s plantation, I could
endure as much elsewhere, and especially at Baltimore; for I had
something of the feeling about that city which is expressed in the
saying, that being “hanged in England, is better than dying a natural
death in Ireland.” I had the strongest desire to see Baltimore. My
cousin Tom—a boy two or three years older than I—had been there, and
though not fluent (he stuttered immoderately) in speech, he had
inspired me with that desire, by his eloquent description of the place.
Tom was, sometimes, Capt. Auld’s cabin boy; and when he came from
Baltimore, he was always a sort of hero amongst us, at least till his
Baltimore trip was forgotten. I could never tell him of anything, or
point out anything that struck me as beautiful or powerful, but that he
had seen something in Baltimore far surpassing it. Even the great house
itself, with all its pictures within, and pillars without, he had the
hardihood to say “was nothing to Baltimore.” He bought a trumpet (worth
six pence) and brought it home; told what he had seen in the windows of
stores; that he had heard shooting crackers, and seen soldiers; that he
had seen a steamboat; that there were ships in Baltimore that could
carry four such sloops as the “Sally Lloyd.” He said a great deal about
the market-house; he spoke of the bells ringing; and of many other
things which roused my curiosity very much; and, indeed, which
heightened my hopes of happiness in my new home.
We sailed out of Miles river for Baltimore early on a Saturday morning.
I remember only the day of the week; for, at that time, I had no
knowledge of the days of the month, nor, indeed, of the months of the
year. On setting sail, I walked aft, and gave to Col. Lloyd’s
plantation what I hoped would be the last look I should ever give to
it, or to any place like it. My strong aversion to the great farm, was
not owing to my own personal suffering, but the daily suffering of
others, and to the certainty that I must, sooner or later, be placed
under the barbarous rule of an overseer, such as the accomplished Gore,
or the brutal and drunken Plummer. After taking this last view, I
quitted the quarter deck, made my way to the bow of the sloop, and
spent the remainder of the day in looking ahead; interesting myself in
what was in the distance, rather than what was near by or behind. The
vessels, sweeping along the bay, were very interesting objects. The
broad bay opened like a shoreless ocean on my boyish vision, filling me
with wonder and admiration.
Late in the afternoon, we reached Annapolis, the capital of the state,
stopping there not long enough to admit of my going ashore. It was the
first large town I had ever seen; and though it was inferior to many a
factory village in New England, my feelings, on seeing it, were excited
to a pitch very little below that reached by travelers at the first
view of Rome. The dome of the state house was especially imposing, and
surpassed in grandeur the appearance of the great house. The great
world was opening upon me very rapidly, and I was eagerly acquainting
myself with its multifarious lessons.
We arrived in Baltimore on Sunday morning, and landed at Smith’s wharf,
not far from Bowly’s wharf. We had on board the sloop a large flock of
sheep, for the Baltimore market; and, after assisting in driving them
to the slaughter house of Mr. Curtis, on Loudon Slater’s Hill, I was
speedily conducted by Rich—one of the hands belonging to the sloop—to
my new home in Alliciana street, near Gardiner’s ship-yard, on Fell’s
Point. Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Auld, my new mistress and master, were both at
home, and met me at the door with their rosy cheeked little son,
Thomas, to take care of whom was to constitute my future occupation. In
fact, it was to “little Tommy,” rather than to his parents, that old
master made a present of me; and though there was no _legal_ form or
arrangement entered into, I have no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Auld felt
that, in due time, I should be the legal property of their bright-eyed
and beloved boy, Tommy. I was struck with the appearance, especially,
of my new mistress. Her face was lighted with the kindliest emotions;
and the reflex influence of her countenance, as well as the tenderness
with which she seemed to regard me, while asking me sundry little
questions, greatly delighted me, and lit up, to my fancy, the pathway
of my future. Miss Lucretia was kind; but my new mistress, “Miss
Sophy,” surpassed her in kindness of manner. Little Thomas was
affectionately told by his mother, that _“there was his Freddy,”_ and
that “Freddy would take care of him;” and I was told to “be kind to
little Tommy”—an injunction I scarcely needed, for I had already fallen
in love with the dear boy; and with these little ceremonies I was
initiated into my new home, and entered upon my peculiar duties, with
not a cloud above the horizon.
I may say here, that I regard my removal from Col. Lloyd’s plantation
as one of the most interesting and fortunate events of my life. Viewing
it in the light of human likelihoods, it is quite probable that, but
for the mere circumstance of being thus removed before the rigors of
slavery had fastened upon me; before my young spirit had been crushed
under the iron control of the slave-driver, instead of being, today, a
FREEMAN, I might have been wearing the galling chains of slavery. I
have sometimes felt, however, that there was something more intelligent
than _chance_, and something more certain than _luck_, to be seen in
the circumstance. If I have made any progress in knowledge; if I have
cherished any honorable aspirations, or have, in any manner, worthily
discharged the duties of a member of an oppressed people; this little
circumstance must be allowed its due weight in giving my life that
direction. I have ever regarded it as the first plain manifestation of
that
Divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough hew them as we will.
I was not the only boy on the plantation that might have been sent to
live in Baltimore. There was a wide margin from which to select. There
were boys younger, boys older, and boys of the same age, belonging to
my old master some at his own house, and some at his farm—but the high
privilege fell to my lot.
I may be deemed superstitious and egotistical, in regarding this event
as a special interposition of Divine Providence in my favor; but the
thought is a part of my history, and I should be false to the earliest
and most cherished sentiments of my soul, if I suppressed, or hesitated
to avow that opinion, although it may be characterized as irrational by
the wise, and ridiculous by the scoffer. From my earliest recollections
of serious matters, I date the entertainment of something like an
ineffaceable conviction, that slavery would not always be able to hold
me within its foul embrace; and this conviction, like a word of living
faith, strengthened me through the darkest trials of my lot. This good
spirit was from God; and to him I offer thanksgiving and praise.
CHAPTER X. _Life in Baltimore_
CITY ANNOYANCES—PLANTATION REGRETS—MY MISTRESS, MISS SOPHA—HER
HISTORY—HER KINDNESS TO ME—MY MASTER, HUGH AULD—HIS SOURNESS—MY
INCREASED SENSITIVENESS—MY COMFORTS—MY OCCUPATION—THE BANEFUL EFFECTS
OF SLAVEHOLDING ON MY DEAR AND GOOD MISTRESS—HOW SHE COMMENCED TEACHING
ME TO READ—WHY SHE CEASED TEACHING ME—CLOUDS GATHERING OVER MY BRIGHT
PROSPECTS—MASTER AULD’S EXPOSITION OF THE TRUE PHILOSOPHY OF
SLAVERY—CITY SLAVES—PLANTATION SLAVES—THE CONTRAST—EXCEPTIONS—MR.
HAMILTON’S TWO SLAVES, HENRIETTA AND MARY—MRS. HAMILTON’S CRUEL
TREATMENT OF THEM—THE PITEOUS ASPECT THEY PRESENTED—NO POWER MUST COME
BETWEEN THE SLAVE AND THE SLAVEHOLDER.
Once in Baltimore, with hard brick pavements under my feet, which
almost raised blisters, by their very heat, for it was in the height of
summer; walled in on all sides by towering brick buildings; with troops
of hostile boys ready to pounce upon me at every street corner; with
new and strange objects glaring upon me at every step, and with
startling sounds reaching my ears from all directions, I for a time
thought that, after all, the home plantation was a more desirable place
of residence than my home on Alliciana street, in Baltimore. My country
eyes and ears were confused and bewildered here; but the boys were my
chief trouble. They chased me, and called me _“Eastern Shore man,”_
till really I almost wished myself back on the Eastern Shore. I had to
undergo a sort of moral acclimation, and when that was over, I did much
better. My new mistress happily proved to be all she _seemed_ to be,
when, with her husband, she met me at the door, with a most beaming,
benignant countenance. She was, naturally, of an excellent disposition,
kind, gentle and cheerful. The supercilious contempt for the rights and
feelings of the slave, and the petulance and bad humor which generally
characterize slaveholding ladies, were all quite absent from kind
“Miss” Sophia’s manner and bearing toward me. She had, in truth, never
been a slaveholder, but had—a thing quite unusual in the south—depended
almost entirely upon her own industry for a living. To this fact the
dear lady, no doubt, owed the excellent preservation of her natural
goodness of heart, for slavery can change a saint into a sinner, and an
angel into a demon. I hardly knew how to behave toward “Miss Sopha,” as
I used to call Mrs. Hugh Auld. I had been treated as a _pig_ on the
plantation; I was treated as a _child_ now. I could not even approach
her as I had formerly approached Mrs. Thomas Auld. How could I hang
down my head, and speak with bated breath, when there was no pride to
scorn me, no coldness to repel me, and no hatred to inspire me with
fear? I therefore soon learned to regard her as something more akin to
a mother, than a slaveholding mistress. The crouching servility of a
slave, usually so acceptable a quality to the haughty slaveholder, was
not understood nor desired by this gentle woman. So far from deeming it
impudent in a slave to look her straight in the face, as some
slaveholding ladies do, she seemed ever to say, “look up, child; don’t
be afraid; see, I am full of kindness and good will toward you.” The
hands belonging to Col. Lloyd’s sloop, esteemed it a great privilege to
be the bearers of parcels or messages to my new mistress; for whenever
they came, they were sure of a most kind and pleasant reception. If
little Thomas was her son, and her most dearly beloved child, she, for
a time, at least, made me something like his half-brother in her