Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave
had something of the feeling about Baltimore that is expressed in the
proverb, that “being hanged in England is preferable to dying a natural
death in Ireland.” I had the strongest desire to see Baltimore. Cousin
Tom, though not fluent in speech, had inspired me with that desire by
his eloquent description of the place. I could never point out any
thing at the Great House, no matter how beautiful or powerful, but that
he had seen something at Baltimore far exceeding, both in beauty and
strength, the object which I pointed out to him. Even the Great House
itself, with all its pictures, was far inferior to many buildings in
Baltimore. So strong was my desire, that I thought a gratification of
it would fully compensate for whatever loss of comforts I should
sustain by the exchange. I left without a regret, and with the highest
hopes of future happiness.
We sailed out of Miles River for Baltimore on a Saturday morning. I
remember only the day of the week, for at that time I had no knowledge
of the days of the month, nor the months of the year. On setting sail,
I walked aft, and gave to Colonel Lloyd’s plantation what I hoped would
be the last look. I then placed myself in the bows of the sloop, and
there spent the remainder of the day in looking ahead, interesting
myself in what was in the distance rather than in things near by or
behind.
In the afternoon of that day, we reached Annapolis, the capital of the
State. We stopped but a few moments, so that I had no time to go on
shore. It was the first large town that I had ever seen, and though it
would look small compared with some of our New England factory
villages, I thought it a wonderful place for its size—more imposing
even than the Great House Farm!
We arrived at Baltimore early on Sunday morning, landing at Smith’s
Wharf, not far from Bowley’s Wharf. We had on board the sloop a large
flock of sheep; and after aiding in driving them to the slaughterhouse
of Mr. Curtis on Louden Slater’s Hill, I was conducted by Rich, one of
the hands belonging on board of the sloop, to my new home in Alliciana
Street, near Mr. Gardner’s ship-yard, on Fells Point.
Mr. and Mrs. Auld were both at home, and met me at the door with their
little son Thomas, to take care of whom I had been given. And here I
saw what I had never seen before; it was a white face beaming with the
most kindly emotions; it was the face of my new mistress, Sophia Auld.
I wish I could describe the rapture that flashed through my soul as I
beheld it. It was a new and strange sight to me, brightening up my
pathway with the light of happiness. Little Thomas was told, there was
his Freddy,—and I was told to take care of little Thomas; and thus I
entered upon the duties of my new home with the most cheering prospect
ahead.
I look upon my departure from Colonel Lloyd’s plantation as one of the
most interesting events of my life. It is possible, and even quite
probable, that but for the mere circumstance of being removed from that
plantation to Baltimore, I should have to-day, instead of being here
seated by my own table, in the enjoyment of freedom and the happiness
of home, writing this Narrative, been confined in the galling chains of
slavery. Going to live at Baltimore laid the foundation, and opened the
gateway, to all my subsequent prosperity. I have ever regarded it as
the first plain manifestation of that kind providence which has ever
since attended me, and marked my life with so many favors. I regarded
the selection of myself as being somewhat remarkable. There were a
number of slave children that might have been sent from the plantation
to Baltimore. There were those younger, those older, and those of the
same age. I was chosen from among them all, and was the first, last,
and only choice.
I may be deemed superstitious, and even egotistical, in regarding this
event as a special interposition of divine Providence in my favor. But
I should be false to the earliest sentiments of my soul, if I
suppressed the opinion. I prefer to be true to myself, even at the
hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false,
and incur my own abhorrence. From my earliest recollection, I date the
entertainment of a deep conviction that slavery would not always be
able to hold me within its foul embrace; and in the darkest hours of my
career in slavery, this living word of faith and spirit of hope
departed not from me, but remained like ministering angels to cheer me
through the gloom. This good spirit was from God, and to him I offer
thanksgiving and praise.
CHAPTER VI
My new mistress proved to be all she appeared when I first met her at
the door,—a woman of the kindest heart and finest feelings. She had
never had a slave under her control previously to myself, and prior to
her marriage she had been dependent upon her own industry for a living.
She was by trade a weaver; and by constant application to her business,
she had been in a good degree preserved from the blighting and
dehumanizing effects of slavery. I was utterly astonished at her
goodness. I scarcely knew how to behave towards her. She was entirely
unlike any other white woman I had ever seen. I could not approach her
as I was accustomed to approach other white ladies. My early
instruction was all out of place. The crouching servility, usually so
acceptable a quality in a slave, did not answer when manifested toward
her. Her favor was not gained by it; she seemed to be disturbed by it.
She did not deem it impudent or unmannerly for a slave to look her in
the face. The meanest slave was put fully at ease in her presence, and
none left without feeling better for having seen her. Her face was made
of heavenly smiles, and her voice of tranquil music.
But, alas! this kind heart had but a short time to remain such. The
fatal poison of irresponsible power was already in her hands, and soon
commenced its infernal work. That cheerful eye, under the influence of
slavery, soon became red with rage; that voice, made all of sweet
accord, changed to one of harsh and horrid discord; and that angelic
face gave place to that of a demon.
Very soon after I went to live with Mr. and Mrs. Auld, she very kindly
commenced to teach me the A, B, C. After I had learned this, she
assisted me in learning to spell words of three or four letters. Just
at this point of my progress, Mr. Auld found out what was going on, and
at once forbade Mrs. Auld to instruct me further, telling her, among
other things, that it was unlawful, as well as unsafe, to teach a slave
to read. To use his own words, further, he said, “If you give a nigger
an inch, he will take an ell. A nigger should know nothing but to obey
his master—to do as he is told to do. Learning would _spoil_ the best
nigger in the world. Now,” said he, “if you teach that nigger (speaking
of myself) how to read, there would be no keeping him. It would forever
unfit him to be a slave. He would at once become unmanageable, and of
no value to his master. As to himself, it could do him no good, but a
great deal of harm. It would make him discontented and unhappy.” These
words sank deep into my heart, stirred up sentiments within that lay
slumbering, and called into existence an entirely new train of thought.
It was a new and special revelation, explaining dark and mysterious
things, with which my youthful understanding had struggled, but
struggled in vain. I now understood what had been to me a most
perplexing difficulty—to wit, the white man’s power to enslave the
black man. It was a grand achievement, and I prized it highly. From
that moment, I understood the pathway from slavery to freedom. It was
just what I wanted, and I got it at a time when I the least expected
it. Whilst I was saddened by the thought of losing the aid of my kind
mistress, I was gladdened by the invaluable instruction which, by the
merest accident, I had gained from my master. Though conscious of the
difficulty of learning without a teacher, I set out with high hope, and
a fixed purpose, at whatever cost of trouble, to learn how to read. The
very decided manner with which he spoke, and strove to impress his wife
with the evil consequences of giving me instruction, served to convince
me that he was deeply sensible of the truths he was uttering. It gave
me the best assurance that I might rely with the utmost confidence on
the results which, he said, would flow from teaching me to read. What
he most dreaded, that I most desired. What he most loved, that I most
hated. That which to him was a great evil, to be carefully shunned, was
to me a great good, to be diligently sought; and the argument which he
so warmly urged, against my learning to read, only served to inspire me
with a desire and determination to learn. In learning to read, I owe
almost as much to the bitter opposition of my master, as to the kindly
aid of my mistress. I acknowledge the benefit of both.
I had resided but a short time in Baltimore before I observed a marked
difference, in the treatment of slaves, from that which I had witnessed
in the country. A city slave is almost a freeman, compared with a slave
on the plantation. He is much better fed and clothed, and enjoys
privileges altogether unknown to the slave on the plantation. There is
a vestige of decency, a sense of shame, that does much to curb and
check those outbreaks of atrocious cruelty so commonly enacted upon the
plantation. He is a desperate slaveholder, who will shock the humanity
of his non-slaveholding neighbors with the cries of his lacerated
slave. Few are willing to incur the odium attaching to the reputation
of being a cruel master; and above all things, they would not be known
as not giving a slave enough to eat. Every city slaveholder is anxious
to have it known of him, that he feeds his slaves well; and it is due
to them to say, that most of them do give their slaves enough to eat.
There are, however, some painful exceptions to this rule. Directly
opposite to us, on Philpot Street, lived Mr. Thomas Hamilton. He owned
two slaves. Their names were Henrietta and Mary. Henrietta was about
twenty-two years of age, Mary was about fourteen; and of all the
mangled and emaciated creatures I ever looked upon, these two were the
most so. His heart must be harder than stone, that could look upon
these unmoved. The head, neck, and shoulders of Mary were literally cut
to pieces. I have frequently felt her head, and found it nearly covered
with festering sores, caused by the lash of her cruel mistress. I do
not know that her master ever whipped her, but I have been an
eye-witness to the cruelty of Mrs. Hamilton. I used to be in Mr.
Hamilton’s house nearly every day. Mrs. Hamilton used to sit in a large
chair in the middle of the room, with a heavy cowskin always by her
side, and scarce an hour passed during the day but was marked by the
blood of one of these slaves. The girls seldom passed her without her
saying, “Move faster, you _black gip!_” at the same time giving them a
blow with the cowskin over the head or shoulders, often drawing the
blood. She would then say, “Take that, you _black gip!_” continuing,
“If you don’t move faster, I’ll move you!” Added to the cruel lashings
to which these slaves were subjected, they were kept nearly
half-starved. They seldom knew what it was to eat a full meal. I have
seen Mary contending with the pigs for the offal thrown into the
street. So much was Mary kicked and cut to pieces, that she was oftener
called “_pecked_” than by her name.
CHAPTER VII
I lived in Master Hugh’s family about seven years. During this time, I
succeeded in learning to read and write. In accomplishing this, I was
compelled to resort to various stratagems. I had no regular teacher. My
mistress, who had kindly commenced to instruct me, had, in compliance