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WILLIAM L. CLEMENTs LIBRARY
Fund of the
University of Michigan Club
of Greater Philadelphia


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IIFE AND TIMES
orº
FREDERICK DOUGLASS,
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF,
HIS EARLY LIFE ASA SLAVE, HIS ESCAPE FROM BONDAGE,
AND HIS COMPLETE HISTORY
PIR E S E N T TIME
INCLUDING HIS CONNECTION WITH THE ANTI-SLAVERY MOVEMENT: HIS LABORS IN GREAT
BRITAIN As WELL AS IN HIS OWN COUNTRY : HIS EXPERIENCE IN THE CONDUCT OF
AN INFLUENTIAL NEWSPAPER: HIS CONNECTION WITH THE UNDERGROUND
RAILROAD ; HIs RELATIONs witH John B.Row N AND THE HARPER's
FERRY RAID: HIS RECRUITING THE 54th AND 55th MAss.
COLORED REGIMENTS: HIS INTERVIEWS WITH
PRESIDENTS LINCOLN AND JOHNSON:
HIS APPOINTMEMT BY GEN. GRANT TO ACCOMPANY THE SANTO DOMINGO COMMISSION: ALso
TO A SEAT IN THE COUNCIL OF THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA : HIS APPoſNTMENT As
UNITED STATES MARSHAL BY PRESIDENT R. B. HAYES: ALSO HIS APPOINTMENT
BY PRESIDENT J. A. GARFIELD TO BE RECORDER OF DEEDS IN
WASHINGTON - WITH MANY OTHER INTERESTING AND
IMPORTANT EVENTS OF HIS MOST
EVENTFUL LIFE;
WITH AN INTRODUCTION,
By M R. GEORGE L. RUF FIN,
O. F. B O ST on.
H A RTForp, CoNN.:
P A R K P U B L IS H IN G CO.
1881.
COPYRIGHTED BY
PARK PUBLISHING Co.,
1881.





INTRODUCTION.
UST what this country has in store to benefit or to startle
the world in the future, no tongue can tell. We know
full well the wonderful things which have occurred or have
been accomplished here in the past, but the still more wonder-
ful things which we may well say will happen in the centuries
of development which lie before us, is vain conjecture, it lies
in the domain of speculation.
America will be the field for the demonstration of truths
not now accepted and the establishment of a new and higher
civilization. Horace Walpole's prophecy will be verified when
there shall be a Xenophon at New York and a Thucydides at
Boston. Up to this time the most remarkable contribution
this country has given to the world is the Author and subject
of this book, now being introduced to the public–Frederick
Douglass. The contribution comes naturally and legitimately
and to some not unexpectedly, nevertheless it is altogether
unique and must be regarded as truly remarkable. Our Pan-
theon contains many that are illustrious and worthy, but
Douglass is unlike all others, he is sui generis. For every
other great character we can bring forward, Europe can pro-
duce another equally as great; when we bring forward Doug-
lass, he cannot be matched.
Douglass was born a slave, he won his liberty; he is of
negro extraction, and consequently was despised and outraged;
he has by his own energy and force of character commanded
the respect of the Nation; he was ignorant, he has, against
law and by stealth and entirely unaided, educated himself; he
was poor, he has by honest toil and industry become rich and
independent, so to speak; he, a chattel slave of a hated and

iy INTRODUCTION.
cruelly wronged race, in the teeth of American prejudice and
in face of nearly every kind of hindrance and draw-back, has
come to be one of the foremost orators of the age, with a
reputation established on both sides of the Atlantic; a writer
of power and elegance of expression; a thinker whose views
are potent in controlling and shaping public opinion; a high
officer in the National Government; a cultivated gentleman
whose virtues as a husband, father, and citizen are the highest
honor a man can have.
Frederick Douglass stands upon a pedestal; he has reached
this lofty height through years of toil and strife, but it has
been the strife of moral ideas; strife in the battle for human
rights. No bitter memories come from this strife; no feelings
of remorse can rise to cast their gloomy shadows over his
soul; Douglass has now reached and passed the meridian of
life, his co-laborers in the strife have now nearly all passed
away. Garrison has gone, Gerritt Smith has gone, Giddings
and Sumner have gone,—nearly all the early abolitionists are
gone to their reward. The culmination of his life work has
been reached; the object dear to his heart—the Emancipation
of the slaves—has been accomplished, through the blessings of
God; he stands facing the goal, already reached by his co-
laborers, with a halo of peace about him, and nothing but
serenity and gratitude must fill his breast. To those, who in
the past—in ante-bellum days--in any degree shared with
Douglass his hopes and feelings on the slavery question, this
serenity of mind, this gratitude, can be understood and felt.
All Americans, no matter what may have been their views on
slavery, now that freedom has come and slavery is ended,
must have a restful feeling and be glad that the source of
bitterness and trouble is removed. The man who is sorry
because of the abolition of slavery, has outlived his day and
generation; he should have insisted upon being buried with
the “lost cause” at Appomattox.
We rejoice that Douglass has attained unto this exalted
position—this pedestal. It has been honorably reached; it is

INTRODUCTION. V
a just recognition of talent and effort; it is another proof that
success attends high and noble aim. With this example, the
black boy as well as the white boy can take hope and courage
in the race of life.
Douglass life has been a romance—and a fragrance—to the
age. There has been just enough mystery about his origin
and escape from slavery to throw a charm about them. The
odd proceedings in the purchase of his freedom after his
escape from slavery; his movements in connection with the
John Brown raid at Harper's Ferry and his subsequent flight
across the ocean are romantic as anything which took place
among the crags and cliffs, the Roderick Dhus and Douglasses
of the Lady of the Lake; while the pure life he has led and
his spotless character are sweet by contrast with the lives of
mere politicians and time serving statesmen. It is well to
contemplate one like him, who has had “hair breadth escapes.”
It is inspiring to know that the day of self-sacrifice and self-
development are not passed. -
To say that his life has been eventful, is hardly the word.
From the time when he first saw the light on the Tuckahoe
plantation up to the time he was called to fill a high official
position, his life has been crowded with events which in some
sense may be called miracles, and now since his autobiography
has come to be written, we must understand the hour of
retrospect has come—for casting up and balancing accounts
as to work done or left undone.
It is more than forty years now that he has been before the
world as a writer and speaker—busy, active, wonderful
years to him—and we are called upon to pass judgment upon
his labors. What can we say? Can he claim the well done
good and faithful? The record shows this, and we must state
it, generally speaking, his life has been devoted to his race
and the cause of his race. The freedom and elevation of his
people has been his life work, and it has been done well and
faithfully. That is the record, and that is sufficient. No

vi INTRODUCTION.
higher eulogium can be pronounced than that Longfellow says
of the Village Blacksmith:—
“Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.”
Douglass found his people enslaved and oppressed. He has
given the best years of his life to the improvement of their
condition, and, now that he looks back upon his labors, may
he not say he has “attempted” and “done” something? and
may he not claim the “repose” which ought to come in the
evening of a well spent life?
The first twenty-three years of Douglass' life were twenty-
three years of slavery, obscurity, and degradation, yet doubt-
less in time to come these years will be regarded by the
student of history the most interesting portion of his life; to
those who in the future would know the inside history of
American slavery, this part of his life will be specially in-
structive. Plantation life at Tuckahoe as related by him is
not fiction, it is fact; it is not the historian's dissertation on
slavery, it is slavery itself, the slave's life, acts, and thoughts,
and the life, acts, and thoughts of those around him. It is
Macauley (I think) who says that a copy of a daily newspaper
[if there were such] published at Rome would give more in-
formation and be of more value than any history we have.
So, too, this photographic view of slave life as given to us in
the autobiography of an ex-slave will give to the reader a
clearer insight of the system of slavery than can be gained
from the examination of general history.
Col. Lloyd's plantation, where Douglass belonged, was very
much like other plantations of the south. Here was the great
house and the cabins, the old Aunties and patriarchal Uncles,
little picanninies and picanninies not so little, of every shade
of complexion, from ebony black to whiteness of the master
race; mules, overseers, and broken down fences. Here was
the negro Doctor learned in the science of roots and herbs;
also the black conjurer with his divination. Here was slave-
breeding and slave-selling, whipping, torturing, and beating to

INTRODUCTION. - vii
death. All this came under the observation of Douglass and
is a part of the education he received while under the yoke of
bondage. He was there in the midst of this confusion, ignor-
ance, and brutality. Little did the overseer on this plantation
think that he had in his gang a man of superior order and
undaunted spirit, whose mind, far above the minds of the
grovelling creatures about him, was at that very time plotting
schemes for his liberty; nor did the thought ever enter the
Amind of Col. Lloyd, the rich slaveholder, that he had upon his
estate one who was destined to assail the system of slavery
with more power and effect than any other person.
Douglass' fame will rest mainly, no doubt, upon his oratory.
His powers in this direction are very great and in some re-
spects unparalleled by our living speakers. His oratory is his
own and apparently formed after the model of no single per-
son. It is not after the Edmund Burke style, which has been
so closely followed by Everett, Sumner, and others, and which
has resulted in giving us splendid and highly embellished
essays rather than natural and not overwrought speeches. If
his oratory must be classified, it should be placed somewhere
between the Fox and Henry Clay schools. Like Clay, Doug-
lass’ greatest effect is upon his immediate hearers, those who
see him and feel his presence, and like Clay a good part of his
oratorical fame will be tradition. The most striking feature
of Douglass’ oratory is his fire, not the quick and flashy kind,
but the steady and intense kind. Years ago on the anti-slav-
ery platform, in some sudden and unbidden outburst of passion
and indignation he has been known to awe-inspire his listen-
ers as though Ætna were there.
If oratory consists of the power to move men by spoken
words, Douglass is a complete orator. He can make men
laugh or cry, at his will. He has power of statement, logic,
withering denunciation, pathos, humor, and inimitable wit.
Daniel Webster with his immense intellectuality had no
humor, not a particle. It does not appear that he could even
see the point of a joke. Douglass is brim full of humor at

viii INTRODUCTION.
times, of the dryest kind. It is of a quiet kind. You can see
it coming a long way off in a peculiar twitch of his mouth; it
increases and broadens gradually until it becomes irresistible
and all-pervading with his audience.
Douglass' rank as a writer is high, and justly so. His writ-
ings, if anything, are more meritorious than his speaking.
For many years he was the editor of newspapers, doing all of
the editorial work. He has contributed largely to magazines.
He is a forcible and thoughtful writer. His style is pure and
graceful, and he has great felicity of expression. His written
productions in finish compare favorably with the written pro-
ductions of our most cultivated writers. His style comes
partly, no doubt, from his long and constant practice, but the
true source is his clear mind, which is well stored by a close
acquaintance with the best authors. His range of reading has
been wide and extensive. He has been a hard student. In
every sense of the word he is a self-made man. By dint
of hard study he has educated himself, and to-day it may be
said he has a well-trained intellect. He has surmounted the
disadvantage of not having an university education, by appli-
cation and well-directed effort. He seems to have realized
the fact that to one who is anxious to become educated and is
really in earnest, it is not positively necessary to go to college,
and that information may be had outside of college walks;
books may be obtained and read elsewhere, they are not
chained to desks in college libraries as they were in early
times at Oxford; Professors' lectures may be bought already
printed; learned doctors may be listened to in the Lyceum;
and the printing press has made it easy and cheap to get in-
formation on every subject and topic that is discussed and
taught in the University. Douglass never made the great
mistake (a common one) of considering that his education
was finished. He has continued to study, he studies now, and
is a growing man, and at this present moment he is a stronger
man intellectually than ever before.
Soon after Douglass' escape from Maryland to the Northern

INTRODUCTION. ix
States, he commenced his public career. It was at New Bed-
ford as a local Methodist preacher and by taking part in small
public meetings held by colored people, wherein anti-slavery
and other matters were discussed. There he laid the founda-
tion of the splendid career which is now about drawing to a
close. In these meetings Douglass gave evidence that he pos-
sessed uncommon powers, and it was plainly to be seen that
he needed only a field and opportunity to display them. That
field and opportunity soon came, as it always does to possess
ors of genius. He became a member and agent of the Amer-
ican Anti-Slavery society. Then commenced his great crusade
against slavery in behalf of his oppressed brethren at the
South.
He waged violent and unceasing war against slavery. He
went through every town and hamlet in the Free States, rais-
ing his voice against the iniquitous system.
Just escaped from the prison-house himself, to tear down
the walls of the same and to let the oppressed go free, was the
mission which engaged the powers of his soul and body.
North, East, and West, all through the land went this escaped
slave delivering his warning message against the doomed
cities of the South. The ocean did not stop nor hinder him.
Across the Atlantic he went, through England, Ireland, and
Scotland. Wherever people could be found to listen to his
story, he pleaded the cause of his enslaved and down-trodden
brethren with vehemence and great power. From 1840 to
1861, the time of the commencement of the civil war, which
extirpated slavery in this country, Douglass was continuously
speaking on the platform, writing for his newspaper and for
magazines, or working in conventions for the abolition of
slavery.
The life and work of Douglass has been a complete vindica-
tion of the colored people in this respect; it has refuted and
overthrown the position taken by some writers that colored
people were deficient in mental qualifications and were inca-
pable of attaining high intellectual position. We may reason-

X INTRODUCTION. -
ably expect to hear no more of this now, the argument is
exploded. Douglass has settled the fact the right way, and it
is something to settle a fact.
That Douglass is a brave man there can be little doubt.
He has physical as well as moral courage. His encounter with
the overseer of the eastern shore plantation attests his pluck.
There the odds were against him, everything was against him
—there the unwritten rule of law was, that the negro who
dared to strike a white man, must be killed, but Douglass
fought the overseer and whipped him. His plotting with
other slaves to escape, writing and giving them passes, and
the unequal and desperate fight maintained by him in the
Baltimore ship yard, where law and public sentiment were
against him, also show that he has courage. But since the
day of his slavery, while living here at the North, many in-
stances have happened which show very plainly that he is a
man of courage and determination; if he had not been, he
would have long since succumbed to the brutality and violence
of the low and mean spirited people found in the Free States.
Up to a very recent date it has been deemed quite safe even
here in the North to insult and impose on inoffensive colored
people, to elbow a colored man from the sidewalk, to jeer at
him and apply vile epithets to him, in some localities this has
been the rule and not the exception, and to put him out of
public conveyances and public places by force, was of common
occurrence. It made little difference that the colored man
was decent, civil, and respectably clad, and had paid his fare,
if the proprietor of the place or his patrons took the notion
that the presence of the colored man was an affront to their
dignity or inconsistent with their notions of self-respect, out
he must go. Nor must he stand upon the order of his going,
but go at once. It was against this feeling that Douglass had
to contend. He met it often; he was a prominent colored
man traveling from place to place. A good part of the time
he was in strange cities stopping at strange taverns—that is,
when he was allowed to stop. Time and again has he been

INTRODUCTION. xi
refused accommodation in hotels. Time and again has he
been in a strange places with nowhere to lay his head until
some kind anti-slavery person would come forward and give
him shelter; and as to riding in public conveyances, mean
spirited conductors at one time made it a rule to put all col-
ored people, molens volens, in the smoking car. Many times
was Douglass subjected to this indignity.
The writer of this remembers well, because he was present
and saw the transaction—the John Brown meeting in Tre:
mont Temple in 1860, when a violent mob composed of the
rough element from the slums of the city, led and encouraged
by bankers and brokers came into the hall to break up the
meeting. Douglass was presiding; the mob was armed; the
police were powerless; the mayor could not or would not do
anything. On came the mob surging through the aisles over
benches and upon the platform; the women in the audience
became alarmed and fled. The hirelings were prepared to do
anything, they had the power and could with impunity.
Douglass sat upon the platform with a few chosen spirits, cool
and undaunted; the mob had got about and around him; he
did not heed their howling nor was he moved by their threats.
It was not until their leader, a rich banker, with his followers,
had mounted the platform and wrenched the chair from under
him that he was dispossessed, by main force and personal
violence (Douglass resisting all the time) they removed him
from the platform. Free speech was violated; Boston was
disgraced; but the Chairman of that meeting was not intimi-
dated.
It affords me great pleasure to introduce to the public this
book, “The Life and Times of Frederick Douglass.” I am
glad of the opportunity to present a work which tells the story
of the rise and progress of our most celebrated colored man.
To the names of Toussaint L’Overture and Alexander Dumas
is to be added that of Frederick Douglass. We point with
pride to this trio of illustrious names. I bid my fellow coun-
try men take new hope and courage; the near future will

xii INTRODUCTION.
bring us other men of worth and genius, and our list of illus-
trious names will become lengthened. Until that time the
duty is to work and wait. -
Respectfully,
GEORGE L. RUFFIN.
Boston, Sept. 1st, 1881.

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
AUTHOR'S BIRTH.
Author's place of birth—Description of country–Its inhabitants—Gen-
ealogical trees–Method of counting time in slave districts-Date of
author's birth–Names of grandparents—Their cabin–Home with
them–Slave practice of separating mothers from their children-
Author's recollections of his mother–Who was his father? . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER II.
REMOVAL FROM GRAND MOTHER'S.
Author's early home–Its charms—Author's ignorance of “old master”
T-His gradual perception of the truth concerning him–His relations
to Col. Edward Lloyd–Author's removal to “old master's.” home–
His journey thence—His separation from his grandmother—His grief.
CHAPTER III.
TROUBLES OF CHILDHOOD.
Col. Lloyd's plantation—Aunt Katy—Her cruelty and ill-nature–Capt.
Anthony's partiality to Aunt Katy–Allowance of food–Author's
hunger–Unexpected rescue by his mother—The reproof of Aunt
Katy – Sleep – A slave-mother's love – Author's inheritance–His
mother's acquirements—Her death. . . . . . . . . . . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
CHAPTER IV.
A GENERAL SURVEY OF THE SLAVE PLANTATION.
Home plantation of Colonel Lloyd–Its isolation—Its industries—The
slave rule-Power of overseers—Author finds some enjoyment—
Natural scenery–Sloop “Sally Lloyd’—Wind mill–Slave quarter–
“Old master's.” house—Stables, store houses, etc., etc.—The great
house-Its surroundings–Lloyd Burial-place–Superstition of slaves
–Colonel Lloyd's wealth—Negropoliteness—Doctor Copper–Captain
Anthony–His family–Master Daniel Lloyd–His brothers—Social
etiquette. . . . . . . . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
.1
o
--
6
1.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - . .25

xvi. CONTENTS.
CHAPTER W.
A SLAVEHOLDER'S CHARACTER.
Increasing acquaintance with old master—Evils of unresisted passion—
Apparent tenderness—A man of trouble–Custom of muttering to
himself—Brutal outrage—A drunken overseer—Slaveholder's impa-
tience—Wisdom of appeal—A base and selfish attempt to break up a
courtship . . . . . . . . . . . - - - - - - - - ---------------------------------- - - - - - - - - - - . .34
CHAPTER VI.
A CHILD'S REASONING.
The author's early reflections on slavery–Aunt Jennie and Uncle Noah
–Presentment of one day becoming a freeman–Conflict between an
overseer and a slave woman–Advantage of resistance—Death of an
overseer—Col. Lloyd's plantation home—Monthly distribution of food
—Singing of slaves—An explanation—The slaves' food and clothing
—Naked children—Life in the quarter–Sleeping places—not beds—
Deprivation of sleep—Care of nursing babies—Ash cake–Contrast . . . .39
CHAPTER VII.
LUXURIES AT THE GREAT HOUSE.
Contrasts—Great House luxuries—Its hospitality—Entertainments—
Fault-finding—Shameful humiliation of an old and faithful coachman
—William Wilks—Curious incident—Expressed satisfaction not al-
ways genuine–Reasons for suppressing the truth. . . . . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 47
CELAPTER VIII.
CHARACTERISTICS OF OVERSEERs.
Austin Gore–Sketch of his character—Overseers as a class—Their
peculiar characteristics—The marked individuality of Austin Gore—
His sense of duty—Murder of poor Denby—Sensation—How Gore
made his peace with Col. Lloyd–Other horrible murders—No laws
for the protection of slaves possible of being enforced. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .55
CHAPTER IX.
CHANGE OF LOCATION.
Miss Lucretia–Her kindness—How it was manifested—“Ike”—A
battle with him—Miss Lucretia's balsam–Bread—How it was obtained
–Gleams of sunset amidst the general darkness–Suffering from cold
—How we took our meal mush–Preparations for going to Baltimore
–Delight at the change—Cousin Tom's opinion of Baltimore–Arrival
there–Kind reception—Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Auld—Their son Tommy
—My relations to them—My duties—A turning-point in my life .......60

CONTENTS. xvii
CHAPTER X.
LEARNING TO READ.
City annoyances–Plantation regrets-My mistress–Her history—Her
kindness—My master–His sourness-My comforts—Increased sensi-
tiveness—My occupation—Learning to read-Baneful effects of slave-
holding on my dear, good mistress—Mr. Hugh forbids Mrs. Sophia to
teach me further—Clouds gather on my bright prospects-Master
Auld's exposition of the Philosophy of Slavery-City slaves—Country
slaves–Contrasts—Exceptions—Mr. Hamilton's two slaves–Mrs.
Hamilton's cruel treatment of them—Piteous aspect presented by them
—No power to come between the slave and slaveholder. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER XI.
GROWING IN KNOWLEDGE.
My mistress—Her slaveholding duties—Their effects on her originally
noble nature—The conflict in her mind–She opposes my learning to
read—Too late—She had given me the “inch,” I was resolved to take
the “ell”—How I pursued my study to read–My tutors—What pro-
gress I made–Slavery—What I heard said about it—Thirteen years
old–Columbian orator—Dialogue—Speeches—Sheridan–Pitt–Lords
Chatham and Fox—Knowledge increasing—Liberty–Singing—Sad-
ness—Unhappiness of Mrs. Sophia–My hatred of slavery—One Upas
tree overshadows us all... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . - - - - - - - - - - - -
CHAPTER XII.
RELIGIOUS NATURE AWAKENED.
Abolitionists spoken of-Eagerness to know the meaning of the word—
Consults the dictionary—Incendiary information—The enigma solved
–“ Nat Turner” insurrection–Cholera—Religion—Methodist Minis-
ter–Religious impressions—Father Lawson–His character and occu-
pation–His influence over me—Our mutual attachment–New hopes
and aspirations—Heavenly light—Two Irishmen on wharf–Conversa-
tion with them–Learning to write–My aims.......................
CHAPTER XIII.
THE VICISSITUDES OF SLAVE LIFE.
Death of old Master's son Richard, speedily followed by that of old
Master-Valuation and division of all the property, including the
slaves–Sent for to come to Hillsborough to be valued and divided–
Sad prospects and grief–Parting—Slaves have no voice in deciding
their own destinies—General dread of falling into Master Andrew's
72

xvil CONTENTS.
hands—His drunkenness—Good fortune in falling to Miss Lucretia–
She allows my return to Baltimore–Joy at Master Hugh's—Death of
Miss Lucretia–Master Thomas Auld's second marriage—The new
wife unlike the old–Again removed from Master Hugh's—Reasons
for regret–Plan of escape.......................................... 87
CHAPTER XIV.
EXPERIENCE IN ST. MICHAELS.
St. Michaels and its inhabitants—Capt. Auld–His new wife—Suffer-
ings from hunger–Forced to steal—Argument in vindication thereof
—Southern camp-meeting—What Capt. Auld did there–Hopes—Sus-
picions—The result—Faith and works at variance–Position in the
church–Poor Cousin Henny—Methodist preachers—Their disregard
of the slaves—One exception—Sabbath-school—How and by whom
broken up—Sad change in my prospects—Covey, the negro-breaker. . . .96
CHAPTER XV.
COVEY, THE NEGRO BREAKER.
Journey to Covey's—Meditations by the way—Covey's house—Family
—Awkwardness as a field hand–A cruel beating—Why given—
Description of Covey–First attempt at driving oxen—Hair-breadth
escape–Ox and man alike property—Hard labor more effective than
the whip for breaking down the spirit–Cunning and trickery of
Covey–Family worship—Shocking and indecent contempt for chas-
tity—Great mental agitation—Anguish beyond description. . . . . . . . . . . 109
CHAPTER XVI.
ANOTHER PRESSURE OF THE TYRANT'S VICE.
Experience at Covey's summed up—First six months severer than the
remaining six–Preliminaries to the change–Reasons for narrating
the circumstances—Scene in the treading-yard–Author taken ill–
Escapes to St. Michaels—The pursuit—Suffering in the woods–Talk
with Master Thomas–His beating–Driven back to Covey's—The
slaves never sick—Natural to expect them to feign sickness–Laziness
of slaveholders. . . . . . . . . . . . . . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 122
CHAPTER XVII.
THE LAST FILOGGING.
A sleepless night—Return to Covey's—Punished by him—The chase
defeated—Vengeance postponed—Musings in the woods—The alterna-
tive—Deplorable spectacle—Night in the woods—Expected attack–
Accosted by Sandy—A friend, not a master—Sandy's hospitality—

CONTENTS. xix
The ash-cake supper—Interview with Sandy-His advice—Sandy a
conjuror as well as a Christian-The magic root–Strange meeting
with Covey–His manner–Covey's Sunday face–Author's defensive
resolve–The fight—The victory, and its results. . . . . . . . . . . - - - - - - - - - - 130
CHAPTER XVIII.
NEW RELATIONS AND DUTIES.
Change of masters–Benefits derived by change—Fame of the fight with
Covey–Reckless unconcern-Author's abhorence of slavery–Ability
to read a cause of prejudice–The holidays-How spent–Sharp hit at
slavery–Effects of holidays–Difference between Covey and Freeland
–An irreligious master preferred to a religious one–Hard life at
Covey's useful to the author-Improved condition does not bring con-
tentment–Congenial society at Freeland's-Author's Sabbath-school
–Secresy necessary–Affectionate relations of tutor and pupils–Con-
fidence and friendship among slaves–Slavery the inviter of vengeance. 142
CHAPTER XIX.
THE RUNAWAY PLOT.
New Year's thoughts and meditations—Again hired by Freeland-
Kindness no compensation for slavery–Incipient steps toward escape
—Considerations leading thereto–Hostility to slavery-Solemn vow
taken–Plan divulged to slaves–Columbian Orator again–Scheme
gains favor—Danger of discovery–Skill of slaveholders-Suspicion
and coercion–Hymns with double meaning—Consultation–Pass-
word–Hope and fear—Ignorance of Geography–Imaginary difficul-
ties—Patrick Henry–Sandy a dreamer–Route to the north mapped
out— Objections—Frauds–Passes – Anxieties—Fear of failure—
Strange presentiment–Coincidence–Betrayal–Arrests–Resistance—
Mrs. Freeland–Prison–Brutal jests–Passes eaten–Denial–Sandy
–Dragged behind horses—Slave traders—Alone in prison–Sent to
Baltimore. . . . . . . . . . . . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 152
CHAPTER XX.
APPRENTICESHIP LIFE.
Nothing lost in my attempt to run away—Comrades at home–Reasons
for sending me away–Return to Baltimore–Tommy changed–Caulk-
ing in Gardiner's ship yard–Desperate fight—Its causes–Conflict
between white and black labor—Outrage—Testimony—Master Hugh
—Slavery in Baltimore–My condition improves—New associations—
Slaveholder's right to the slave's wages—How to make a discontented
slave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .176

XX CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXI.
ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY.
Closing incidents in my “Life as a Slave.”—Discontent—Suspicions—
Master's generosity–Difficulties in the way of escape—Plan to obtain
money–Allowed to hire my time—A gleam of hope–Attend camp-
meeting—Anger of Master Hugh—The result–Plans of escape–Day
for departure fixed–Harassing doubts and fears–Painful thoughts of
separation from friends............... . . . . . . . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 188
SECOND PART.
CHAPTER I.
ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY.
Reasons for not having revealed the manner of escape—Nothing of
romance in the method–Danger–Free Papers—Unjust tax–Protec-
tion papers—“Free trade and sailors' rights”–American eagle—Rail-
road train–Unobserving conductor—Capt. McGowan–Honest Ger-
man–Fears—Safe arrival in Philadelphia–Ditto in New York. . . . . . . 196
CHAPTER II.
LIFE AS A FREEMAN.
Loneliness and insecurity—“Allender's Jake”—Succored by a sailor—
David Ruggles—Marriage—Steamer J. W. Richmond–Stage to New
Bedford–Arrival there—Driver's detention of baggage—Nathan
Johnson–Change of Name—Why called “Douglass”—Obtaining
Work—The Liberator and its Editor. . . . . . . . . . . . --------------------- 202
CHAPTER III.
INTRODUCED TO THE ABOLITIONIST S.
Anti-Slavery Convention at Nantucket–First Speech—Much Sensation
—Extraordinary Speech of Mr. Garrison—Anti-Slavery Agency—
Youthful Enthusiasm–Fugitive Slaveship Doubted—Experience in
Slavery Written–Danger of Recapture.............. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 216
CHAPTER IV.
RECOLLECTIONS OF OLD FRIENDS.
Work in Rhode Island–Dorr War—Recollections of old friends—
Further labors in Rhode Island and elsewhere in New England. . . . . . 222

CONTENTS. xxi
CHAPTER W.
ONE HUNDRED CONVENTIONS.
Anti-Slavery Conventions held in parts of New England, and in some
of the Middle and Western States—Mobs–Incidents, etc. . . . . . . . . . . . 229
CHAPTER VI.
IMPRESSIONS ABROAD.
Danger to be averted—A refuge sought abroad–Voyage on the steam-
ship Cambria—Refusal of first-class passage—Attractions of the fore-
castle-deck—Hutchinson family—Invited to make a speech–South-
erners feel insulted—Captain threatens to put them in irons—
Experiences abroad—Attentions received—Impressions of different
members of Parliament, and of other public men—Contrast with life
in America–Kindness of friends—Their purchase of my person, and
the gift of the same to myself—My return.......................... 236
CHAPTER VII.
TRIUMPHS AND TRIALS.
New Experiences—Painful Disagreement of Opinion with old Friends
-Final Decision to Publish my Paper in Rochester—Its Fortunes
and its Friends—Change in my own Views Regarding the Consti-
tution of the United States–Fidelity to Conviction–Loss of Old
Friends–Support of New Ones–Loss of House, etc., by Fire–
Triumphs and Trials—Under-ground Railroad–Incidents............ 264
CHAPTER VIII.
JOHN BROWN AND MERS. STOWE.
My First Meeting with Capt. John Brown–The Free Soil Movement—
Colored Convention–Uncle Tom's Cabin–Industrial School for
Colored People–Letter to Mrs. H. B. Stowe....... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 277
CHAPTER IX.
INCREASING DEMANDS OF THE SLAVE POWER.
Increased demands of slavery—War in Kansas–John Brown's raid—
His capture and execution—My escape to England from United
States marshals....... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 297
CHAPTER X.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
My connection with John Brown. To and from England–Presidential
contest-Election of Abraham Lincoln...................... . . . . . . . 318

xxii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XI.
SECESSION AND WAR.
Recruiting of the 54th and 55th Colored Regiments—Visit to President
Lincoln and Secretary Stanton–Promised a Commission as Adjutant
General to General Thomas–Disappointment. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 339
CHAPTER XII.
HOPE FOR THE NATION.
Proclamation of emancipation–Its reception in Boston–Objections
brought against it—Its effect on the country—Interview with President
Lincoln–New York riots—Re-election of Mr. Lincoln–His inaugura-
tion, and inaugural—Vice-President Johnson—Presidential reception
—The fall of Richmond—Fanueil Hall—The assassination–Condolence. 356
CHAPTER XIII.
WAST CHANGES.
Satisfaction and anxiety, new fields of labor opening–Lyceums and
colleges soliciting addresses–Literary attractions—Pecuniary gain
–Still pleading for human rights—President Andy Johnson–Colored
delegation—Their reply to him—National Loyalist Convention, 1866,
and its procession–Not Wanted—Meeting with an old friend—Joy
and surprise—The old master's welcome, and Miss Amanda's friend-
ship—Enfranchisement debated and accomplished—The Negro a
citizen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . -------------------------- * - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 380
CHAPTER XIV.
LIVING AND LEARNING.
Inducements to a political career–Objections—A newspaper enterprise
–The New National Era—Its abandonment—The Freedman's Saving
and Trust Company—Sad experience—Windication. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 406
CHAPTER XV.
“Weighed in the balance. ”... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 415
CHAPTER XVI.
“TIME MAKES ALL THINGS EVEN.”
Return to the “old master”—A last interview–Capt. Auld's admission
“ had I been in your place, I should have done as you did"—Speech
at Easton–The old jail there—Invited to a sail on the revenue cutter

CONTENTS. - xxiii
Guthrie—Hon. John L. Thomas–Visit to the old plantation—Home
of Col. Lloyd–Kind reception and attentions—Familiar scenes-Old
memories—Burial-ground–Hospitality—Gracious reception from Mrs.
Buchanan—A little girl's floral gift–A promise of a “good time
coming”—Speech at Harper's Ferry, Decoration day, 1881–Storer
College–Hon. A. J. Hunter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 445
CHAPTER XVII.
INCIDENTS AND EVENTS.
Hon. Gerrit Smith and Mr. E. C. Delevan—Experiences at Hotels and
on Steamboats and other modes of travel—Hon. Edward Marshall–
Grace Greenwood–Hon. Moses Norris–Robºt J. Ingersoll–Reflec-
tions and conclusions—Compensations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 459
CHAPTER XVIII.
“HONOR TO WIHOM HONOR.”
Grateful recognition–Friends in need–Lucretia Mott–Lydia Maria
Child–Sarah and Angelina Grimke—Abby Kelly—H. Beecher Stowe
–Other Friends—Woman Suffrage—Concluding thoughts........... 473
CHAPTER XIX.
483
APPENDIX.
489


LIFE AS A SLAVE.
CEIAPTER I.
AUTHOR'S BIRTH.
Author's place of birth—Description of country—Its inhabitants-Genea-
logical trees–Method of counting time in slave districts—Date of author's
birth—Names of grandparents—Their cabin—Home with them-Slave
practice of separating mothers from their children—Author's recollections
of his mother–Who was his father ?
N Talbot County, Eastern Shore, State of Maryland, near
Easton, the county town, there is a small district of
country, thinly populated, and remarkable for nothing that I
know of more than for the worn-out, sandy, desert-like ap-
pearance of its soil, the general dilapidation of its farms and
fences, the indigent and spiritless character of its inhabitants,
and the prevalence of ague and fever. It was in this dull,
flat, and unthrifty district or neighborhood, bordered by the
Choptank river, among the laziest and muddiest of streams
surrounded by a white population of the lowest order, indo-
lent and drunken to a proverb, and among slaves who, in
point of ignorance and indolence, were fully in accord with
their surroundings, that I, without any fault of my own, was
born, and spent the first years of my childhood.
The reader must not expect me to say much of my family.
Genealogical trees did not flourish among slaves. A person
of some consequence in civilized society, sometimes designated
as father, was literally unknown to slave law and slave prac-
tice. I never met with a slave in that part of the country
who could tell me with any certainty how old he was. Few
at that time knew anything of the months of the year or of
(18)
14 HIS GRANDMOTHER.
the days of the month. They measured the ages of their
children by spring-time, winter-time, harvest-time, planting-
time, and the like. Masters allowed no questions to be put
to them by slaves concerning their ages. Such questions
were regarded by the masters as evidence of an impudent
curiosity. From certain events, however, the dates of which
I have since learned, I suppose myself to have been born in
February, 1817.
My first experience of life, as I now remember it, and I
remember it but hazily, began in the family of my grand-
mother and grandfather, Betsey and Isaac Bailey. They were
considered old settlers in the neighborhood, and from certain
circumstances I infer that my grandmother, especially, was
held in high esteem, far higher than was the lot of most col-
ored persons in that region. She was a good nurse, and a
capital hand at making nets used for catching shad and her-
ring, and was, withal, somewhat famous as a fisherwoman.
I have known her to be in the water waist deep, for hours,
seine-hauling. She was a gardener as well as a fisherwoman,
and remarkable for her success in keeping her seedling sweet
potatoes through the months of winter, and easily got the
reputation of being born to “good luck.” In planting time
Grandmother Betsey was sent for in all directions, simply to
place the seedling potatoes in the hills or drills; for supersti-
tion had it that her touch was needed to make them grow.
This reputation was full of advantage to her and her grand-
children, for a good crop, after her planting for the neighbors,
brought her a share of the harvest.
Whether because she was too old for field service, or because
she had so faithfully discharged the duties of her station in
early life, I know not, but she enjoyed the high privilege of
living in a cabin separate from the quarters, having only the
charge of the young children and the burden of her own sup-
port imposed upon her. She esteemed it great good fortune
to live so, and took much comfort in having the children.
The practice of separating mothers from their children and


HIS PARENTS. 15
hiring them out at distances too great to admit of their meet-
ing, save at long intervals, was a marked feature of the cru-
elty and barbarity of the slave system; but it was in harmony
with the grand aim of that system, which always and every-
where sought to reduce man to a level with the brute. It
had no interest in recognizing or preserving any of the ties
that bind families together or to their homes.
My grandmother's five daughters were hired out in this
way, and my only recollections of my own mother are of a
few hasty visits made in the night on foot, after the daily
tasks were over, and when she was under the necessity of
returning in time to respond to the driver's call to the field
in the early morning. These little glimpses of my mother,
obtained under such circumstances and against such odds,
meager as they were, are ineffaceably stamped upon my mem-
ory. She was tall and finely proportioned, of dark glossy
complexion, with regular features, and amongst the slaves
was remarkably sedate and dignified. There is, in “Prichard's
Natural History of Man,” the head of a figure, on page 157,
the features of which so resemble my mother that I often
recur to it with something of the feelings which I suppose
others experience when looking upon the likenesses of their
own dear departed ones.
Of my father I know nothing. Slavery had no recognition
of fathers, as none of families. That the mother was a slave
was enough for its deadly purpose. By its law the child fol.
lowed the condition of its mother. The father might be a
freeman and the child a slave. The father might be a white
man, glorying in the purity of his Anglo-Saxon blood, and
his child ranked with the blackest slaves. Father he might
be, and not be husband, and could sell his own child without
incurring reproach, if in its veins coursed one drop of African
blood.
2

CHAPTER II.
REMOVAL FROM GRAND MOTHER'S.
Author's early home–Its charms—Author's ignorance of “old master”—
His gradual perception of the truth concerning him–His relations to Col.
Edward Lloyd–Author's removal to “old master’s” home—His journey
thence–His separation from his grandmother—His grief.
iving thus with my grandmother, whose kindness and love
|, stood in place of my mother's, it was some time before I
knew myself to be a slave. I knew many other things before
I knew that. Her little cabin had to me the attractions of a
palace. Its fence-railed floor—which was equally floor and
bedstead–up stairs, and its clay floor down stairs, its dirt and
straw chimney, and windowless sides, and that most curious
piece of workmanship, the ladder stairway, and the hole so
strangely dug in front of the fire-place, beneath which grand-
mamma placed her sweet potatoes, to keep them from frost
in winter, were full of interest to my childish observation.
The squirrels, as they skipped the fences, climbed the trees,
or gathered their nuts, were an unceasing delight to me.
There, too, right at the side of the hut, stood the old well,
with its stately and skyward-pointing beam, so aptly placed
between the limbs of what had once been a tree, and so nicely
balanced, that I could move it up and down with only one
hand, and could get a drink myself without calling for help.
Nor were these all the attractions of the place. At a little
distance stood Mr. Lee's mill, where the people came in large
numbers to get their corn ground. I can never tell the many
things thought and felt, as I sat on the bank and watched that
mill, and the turning of its ponderous wheel. The mill-pond,
too, had its charms; and with my pin-hook and thread line I
could get amusing nibbles if I could catch no fish.
(16)

MY OLD MASTER. 17
It was not long, however, before I began to learn the sad
fact that this house of my childhood belonged not to my dear
old grandmother, but to some one I had never seen, and who
lived a great distance off. I learned, too, the sadder fact, that
not only the home and lot, but that grandmother herself and
all the little children around her belonged to a mysterious
personage, called by grandmother, with every mark of rever-
ence, “Old Master.” Thus early did clouds and shadows
begin to fall upon my path.
I learned that this old master, whose name seemed ever to
be mentioned with fear and shuddering, only allowed the little
children to live with grandmother for a limited time, and that as
soon as they were big enough they were promptly taken away to
live with the said old master. These were distressing revelations
indeed. My grandmother was all the world to me, and the
thought of being separated from her was a most unwelcome
suggestion to my affections and hopes. This mysterious old
master was really a man of some consequence. He owned
several farms in Tuckahoe, was the chief clerk and butler on
the home plantation of Colonel Lloyd, had overseers as well as
slaves on his own farms, and gave directions to the overseers
on the farms owned by Colonel Lloyd. Captain Aaron
Anthony, for such is the name and title of my old master,
lived on Colonel Lloyd's plantation, which was situated on the
Wye river, and which was one of the largest, most fertile, and
best appointed in the State.
About this plantation and this old master I was most eager
to know everything which could be known; and, unhappily for
me, all the information I could get concerning him increased
my dread of being separated from my grandmother and
grandfather. I wished it was possible I could remain small all
my life, knowing that the sooner I grew large the shorter
would be my time to remain with them. Everything about
the cabin became doubly dear, and I was sure there could be
no other spot equal to it on earth. But the time came when
I must go, and my grandmother, knowing my fears, in pity
18 HIS REMOVAL TO COLONEL LLOYD’s.
for them, kindly kept me ignorant of the dreaded moment up
to the morning (a beautiful summer morning) when we were
to start, and, indeed, during the whole journey, which, child
as I was, I remember as well as if it were yesterday, she kept
the unwelcome truth hidden from me. The distance from
Tuckahoe to Colonel Lloyd's, where my old master lived, was
full twelve miles, and the walk was quite a severe test of the
endurance of my young legs. The journey would have proved
too severe for me, but that my dear old grandmother (bless-
ings on her memory) afforded occasional relief by “toteing"
me on her shoulder. Advanced in years as she was, as was
evident from the more than one gray hair which peeped from
between the ample and graceful folds of her newly and
smoothly ironed bandana turban, grandmother was yet a
woman of power and spirit. She was remarkably straight in
figure, elastic and muscular in movement. I seemed hardly to
be a burden to her. She would have “toted” me farther, but
I felt myself too much of a man to allow it. Yet while I
walked I was not independent of her. She often found me
holding her skirts lest something should come out of the
woods and eat me up. Several old logs and stumps imposed
upon me, and got themselves taken for enormous animals. I
could plainly see their legs, eyes, ears, and teeth, till I got close
enough to see that the eyes were knots, washed white with
rain, and the legs were broken limbs, and the ears and teeth
only such because of the point from which they were seen.
As the day advanced the heat increased, and it was not until
the afternoon that we reached the much dreaded end of the
journey. Here I found myself in the midst of a group of
children of all sizes and of many colors, black, brown, copper
colored, and nearly white. I had not seen so many children
before. As a new comer I was an object of special interest.
After laughing and yelling around me and playing all sorts of
wild tricks they asked me to go out and play with them.
This I refused to do. Grandmamma looked sad, and I could
not help feeling that our being there boded no good to me.
-




HIS BROTHER AND SISTERS. 19
She was soon to lose another object of affection, as she had
lost many before. Affectionately patting me on the head she
told me to be a good boy and go out to play with the children.
They are “kin to you,” she said, “go and play with them.”
She pointed out to me my brother Perry, my sisters, Sarah and
Eliza. I had never seen them before, and though I had some-
times heard of them and felt a curious interest in them, I
really did not understand what they were to me or I to them.
Brothers and sisters we were by blood, but slavery had made
us strangers. They were already initiated into the mysteries
of old master's domicile, and they seemed to look upon me
with a certain degree of compassion. I really wanted to play
with them, but they were strangers to me, and I was full of
fear that my grandmother might leave for home without taking
me with her. Entreated to do so, however, and that, too, by
my dear grandmother, I went to the back part of the house to
play with them and the other children. Play, however, I did
not, but stood with my back against the wall witnessing the
playing of the others. At last, while standing there, one of
the children, who had been in the kitchen, ran up to me in a
sort of roguish glee, exclaiming, “Fed, Fed, grandmamma
gone!” I could not believe it. Yet, fearing the worst, I ran
into the kitchen to see for myself, and lo! she was indeed
gone, and was now far away and “clean” out of sight. I
need not tell all that happened now. Almost heart-broken at
the discovery, I fell upon the ground and wept a boy's bitter
tears, refusing to be comforted. My brother gave me peaches
and pears to quiet me, but I promptly threw them on the
ground. I had never been deceived before, and something of
resentment at this, mingled with my grief at parting with my
grandmother.
It was now late in the afternoon. The day had been an
exciting and wearisome one, and, I know not where, but I
suppose I sobbed myself to sleep, and its balm was never more
welcome to any wounded soul than to mine. The reader may
be surprised that I relate so minutely an incident apparently
20 HIS GRIEF.
so trivial and which must have occurred when I was less than
seven years old, but as I wish to give a faithful history of my
experience in slavery, I cannot withhold a circumstance which
at the time affected me so deeply, and which I still remember
so vividly. Besides, this was my first introduction to the
realities of the slave system.


CHAPTER III.
TROUBLES OF CHILDHOOD.
Col. Lloyd's plantation—Aunt Katy–Her cruelty and ill-nature—Capt.
Anthony's partiality to Aunt Katy-Allowance of food–Author's hunger
–Unexpected rescue by his mother—The reproof of Aunt Katy–Sleep
—A slave mother's love—Author's inheritance–His mother's acquirements
—Her death.
NCE established on the home plantation of Col. Lloyd-
I was with the children there, left to the tender mercies
of Aunt Katy, a slave woman who was to my master what he
was to Col. Lloyd. Disposing of us in classes or sizes, he
left to Aunt Katy all the minor details concerning our man-
agement. She was a woman who never allowed herself to act
greatly within the limits of delegated power, no matter how
broad that authority might be. Ambitious of old master's
favor, ill-tempered and cruel by nature, she found in her pres-
ent position an ample field for the exercise of her ill-omened
qualities. She had a strong hold upon old master, for she was
a first-rate cook, and very industrious. She was therefore
greatly favored by him—and as one mark of his favor she was
the only mother who was permitted to retain her children
around her, and even to these, her own children, she was often
fiendish in her brutality. Cruel, however, as she sometimes
was to her own children, she was not destitute of maternal
feeling, and in her instinct to satisfy their demands for food,
she was often guilty of starving me and the other children.
Want of food was my chief trouble during my first summer
here. Captain Anthony, instead of allowing a given quantity
of food to each slave, committed the allowance for all to Aunt
Katy, to be divided by her, after cooking, amongst us. The
allowance consisted of coarse corn meal, not very abundant,
(21)
22 AUNT KATY OFFENDED.
and which by passing through Aunt Katy's hands, became
more slender still for some of us. I have often been so
pinched with hunger, as to dispute with old “Nep,” the dog,
for the crumbs which fell from the kitchen table. Many times
have I followed with eager step, the waiting-girl when she
shook the table-cloth, to get the crumbs and small bones flung
out for the dogs and cats. It was a great thing to have the
privilege of dipping a piece of bread into the water in which
meat had been boiled—and the skin taken from the rusty
bacon was a positive luxury. With this description of the
domestic arrangements of my new home, I may here recount
a circumstance which is deeply impressed on my memory, as
affording a bright gleam of a slave-mother's love, and the
earnestness of a mother's care. I had offended Aunt Katy.
I do not remember in what way, for my offences were numer-
ous in that quarter, greatly depending upon her moods as to
their heinousness, and she had adopted her usual mode of
punishing me: namely, making me go all day without food.
For the first hour or two after dinner time, I succeeded pretty
well in keeping up my spirits; but as the day wore away, I
found it quite impossible to do so any longer. Sundown came,
but no bread; and in its stead came the threat from Aunt
Katy, with a scowl well suited to its terrible import, that she
would starve the life out of me. Brandishing her knife, she
chopped off the heavy slices of bread for the other children,
and put the loaf away, muttering all the while her savage de-
signs upon myself. Against this disappointment, for I was
expecting that her heart would relent at last, I made an extra
effort to maintain my dignity, but when I saw the other chil-
dren around me with satisfied faces, I could stand it no longer.
I went out behind the kitchen wall and cried like a fine fellow.
When wearied with this, I returned to the kitchen, sat by the
fire and brooded over my hard lot. I was too hungry to sleep.
While I sat in the corner, I caught sight of an ear of Indian
corn upon an upper shelf. I watched my chance and got it;
and shelling off a few grains, I put it back again. These


ER
His MOTH
SAW
TIME HE
ST
THE LA


My MoTHER’s VISIT. 23
grains I quickly put into the hot ashes to roast. I did this at
the risk of getting a brutal thumping, for Aunt Katy could
beat as well as starve me. My corn was not long in roasting,
and I eagerly pulled it from the ashes, and placed it upon a
stool in a clever little pile. I began to help myself, when who
but my own dear mother should come in. The scene which
followed is beyond my power to describe. The friendless and
hungry boy, in his extremest need, found himself in the strong
protecting arms of his mother. I have before spoken of my
mother's dignified and impressive manner. I shall never for-
get the indescribable expression of her countenance when I
told her that Aunt, Katy had said she would starve the life out
of me. There was deep and tender pity in her glance at me,
and a fiery indignation at Aunt Katy at the same moment,
and while she took the corn from me, and gave in its stead a
large ginger cake, she read Aunt Katy a lecture which was
never forgotten. That night I learned as I had never learned
before, that I was not only a child, but somebody’s child. I
was grander upon my mother's knee than a king upon his
throne. But my triumph was short. I dropped off to sleep,
and waked in the morning to find my mother gone and myself
at the mercy again of the virago in my master's kitchen,
whose fiery wrath was my constant dread.
My mother had walked twelve miles to see me, and had the
same distance to travel over again before the morning sunrise.
I do not remember ever seeing her again. Her death soon
ended the little communication that had existed between us,
and with it, I believe, a life full of weariness and heartfelt
sorrow. To me it has ever been a grief that I knew my
mother so little, and have so few of her words treasured in
my remembrance. I have since learned that she was the only
one of all the colored people of Tuckahoe who could read.
How she acquired this knowledge I know not, for Tuckahoe
was the last place in the world where she would have been
likely to find facilities for learning. I can therefore fondly
and proudly ascribe to her, an earnest love of knowledge.
º:
24 - HER DEATH.
That a field-hand should learn to read in any slave State is
remarkable, but the achievements of my mother, considering
the place and circumstances, was very extraordinary. In view
of this fact, I am happy to attribute any love of letters I may
have, not to my presumed Anglo-Saxon paternity, but to the
native genius of my sable, unprotected, and uncultivated
mother—a woman who belonged to a race whose mental en-
dowments are still disparaged and despised.



CHAPTER IV.
A GENERAL SURVEY OF THE SLAVE PLANTATION.
Home Plantation of Colonel Lloyd–Its Isolation—Its Industries—The
Slave Rule Power of Overseers—Author finds some Enjoyment–Natural
Scenery—Sloop “Sally Lloyd’’-Wind Mill–Slave Quarter—“Old
Master's.” House—Stables, Store Houses, etc., etc.—The Great House-
Its surroundings–Lloyd–Burial-Place–Superstition of Slaves-Colonel
Lloyd's Wealth—Negro Politeness–Doctor Copper-Captain Anthony—
His Family—Master Daniel Lloyd–His Brothers—Social Etiquette.
T was generally supposed that slavery in the State of
Maryland existed in its mildest form, and that it was
totally divested of those harsh and terrible peculiarities which
characterized the slave system in the Southern and South
Western States of the American Union. The ground of this
opinion was the contiguity of the free States, and the influence
of their moral, religious, and humane sentiments. Public
opinion was, indeed, a measurable restraint upon the cruelty
and barbarity of masters, overseers, and slave-drivers, when-
ever and wherever it could reach them ; but there were certain
secluded and out of the way places, even in the State of Mary-
land, fifty years ago, seldom visited by a single ray of healthy
public sentiment, where slavery, wrapt in its own congenial
darkness, could and did develop all its malign and shocking
characteristics, where it could be indecent without shame,
cruel without shuddering, and murderous without apprehen-
sion or fear of exposure, or punishment. Just such a secluded,
dark, and out of the way place, was the home plantation of
Colonel Edward Lloyd, in Talbot county, eastern shore of
Maryland. It was far away from all the great thoroughfares
of travel and commerce, and proximate to no town or village.
There was neither school-house nor town-house in its neigh-
borhood. The school-house was unnecessary, for there were
(25)

26 COLONEL LLOYD’S PLANTATION.
no children to go to school. The children and grand-children
of Col. Lloyd were taught in the house by a private tutor (a
Mr. Page from Greenfield, Massachusetts, a tall, gaunt, sap-
ling of a man, remarkably dignified, thoughtful, and reticent,
and who did not speak a dozen words to a slave in a whole
year). The overseer's children went off somewhere in the
State to school, and therefore could bring no foreign or dan-
gerous influence from abroad to embarrass the natural opera-
tion of the slave system of the place. Not even the commonest
mechanics, from whom there might have been an occasional
outburst of honest and telling indignation at cruelty and wrong
on other plantations, were white men here. Its whole public was
made up of and divided into three classes, slaveholders, slaves,
and overseers. Its blacksmiths, wheelwrights, shoemakers,
weavers, and coopers, were slaves. Not even commerce, selfish
and indifferent to moral considerations as it usually is, was per-
mitted within its secluded precincts. Whether with a view of
guarding against the escape of its secrets, I know not, but it is
a fact, that every leaf and grain of the products of this planta-
tion and those of the neighboring farms, belonging to Col.
Lloyd, were transported to Baltimore in his own vessels, every
man and boy on board of which, except the captain, were
owned by him as his property. In return, everything brought
to the plantation came through the same channel. To make
this isolation more apparent it may be stated that the adjoin-
ing estates to Col. Lloyd's were owned and occupied by friends
of his, who were as deeply interested as himself in maintain-
ing the slave system in all its rigor. These were the Tilgmans,
the Goldboroughs, the Lockermans, the Pacas, the Skinners,
Gibsons, and others of lesser affluence and standing.
The fact is, public opinion in such a quarter, the reader
must see, was not likely to be very efficient in protecting the
slave from cruelty. To be a restraint upon abuses of this
nature, opinion must emanate from humane and virtuous com-
munities, and to no such opinion or influence was Col. Lloyd's
plantation exposed. It was a little nation by itself, having its

EXPERIENCE DURING CHILDHOOD. 27
own language, its own rules, regulations, and customs. The
troubles and controversies arising here were not settled by the
civil power of the State. The overseer was the important
dignitary. He was generally accuser, judge, jury, advocate,
and executioner. The criminal was always dumb–and no
slave was allowed to testify, other than against his brother
slave. -
There were, of course, no conflicting rights of property, for
all the people were the property of one man, and they could
themselves own no property. Religion and politics were largely
excluded. One class of the population was too high to be
reached by the common preacher, and the other class was too
low in condition and ignorance to be much cared for by religi-
ous teachers, and yet some religious ideas did enter this dark
corner.
This, however, is not the only view which the place presented.
Though civilization was in many respects shut out, nature
could not be. Though separated from the rest of the world,
though public opinion, as I have said, could seldom penetrate
its dark domain, though the whole place was stamped with its
own peculiar iron-like individuality, and though crimes, high-
handed and atrocious, could be committed there with strange
and shocking impunity, it was to outward seeming a most
strikingly interesting place, full of life, activity, and spirit,
and presented a very favorable contrast to the indolent monot-
ony and languor of Tuckahoe. It resembled in some respects
descriptions I have since read of the old baronial domains of
Europe. Keen as was my regret, and great as was my sorrow,
at leaving my old home, I was not long in adapting myself to
this my new one. A man's troubles are always half disposed
of when he finds endurance the only alternative. I found
myself here; there was no getting away; and naught remained
for me but to make the best of it. Here were plenty of
children to play with, and plenty of pleasant resorts for boys
of my age and older. The little tendrils of affection so rudely
broken from the darling objects in and around my grand-
28 SLOOOP SALLY LLOYD.
mother's home, gradually began to extend and twine them-
selves around the new surroundings. Here for the first time
I saw a large wind-mill, with its wide-sweeping white wings, a
commanding object to a child's eye. This was situated on
what was called Long Point—a tract of land dividing Miles
river from the Wye. I spent many hours here watching the
wings of this wondrous mill. In the river, or what was called
the “Swash,” at a short distance from the shore, quietly lying
at anchor, with her small row boat dancing at her stern, was
a large sloop, the Sally Lloyd, called by that name in honor of
the favorite daughter of the Colonel. These two objects, the
sloop and mill, as I remember, awakened thoughts, ideas, and
wondering. Then here were a great many houses, human
habitations full of the mysteries of life at every stage of it.
There was the little red house up the road, occupied by Mr.
Seveir, the overseer; a little nearer to my old master’s stood
a long, low, rough building literally alive with slaves of all
ages, sexes, conditions, sizes, and colors. This was called the
long quarter. Perched upon a hill east of our house, was a
tall dilapidated old brick building, the architectural dimensions
of which proclaimed its creation for a different purpose, now
occupied by slaves, in a similar manner to the long quarters.
Besides these, there were numerous other slave houses and
huts, scattered around in the neighborhood, every nook and
corner of which, were completely occupied.
Old master's house, a long brick building, plain but substan-
tial, was centrally located, and was an independent establish-
ment. Besides these houses there were barns, stables, store
houses, tobacco-houses, blacksmith shops, wheelwright shops,
cooper shops; but above all there stood the grandest building
my young eyes had ever beheld, called by everyone on the
plantation the great house. This was occupied by Col. Lloyd
and his family. It was surrounded by numerous and variously
shaped out-buildings. There were kitchens, wash-houses,
dairies, summer-houses, green-houses, hen-houses, turkey-
houses, pigeon-houses, and arbors of many sizes and devices,


BEAUTIES OF THE GREAT HOUSE. 29
all neatly painted or whitewashed—interspersed with grand
old trees, ornamental and primitive, which afforded delightful
shade in summer and imparted to the scene a high degree of
stately beauty. The great house itself was a large white
wooden building with wings on three sides of it. In front a
broad portico extended the entire length of the building, sup-
ported by a long range of columns, which gave to the Colonel's
home an air of great dignity and grandeur. It was a treat to
my young and gradually opening mind to behold this elaborate
exhibition of wealth, power, and beauty.
The carriage entrance to the house was by a large gate, more
than a quarter of a mile distant. The intermediate space was
a beautiful lawn, very neatly kept and cared for. It was dotted
thickly over with trees and flowers. The road or lane from
the gate to the great house was richly paved with white peb-
bles from the beach, and in its course formed a complete circle
around the lawn. Outside this select enclosure were parks,
as about the residences of the English nobility, where rabbits,
deer, and other wild game might be seen peering and playing
about, with “none to molest them or make them afraid.” The
tops of the stately poplars were often covered with red-winged
blackbirds, making all nature vocal with the joyous life and
beauty of their wild, warbling notes. These all belonged to me
as well as to Col. Edward Lloyd, and, whether they did or not,
I greatly enjoyed them. Not far from the great house were
the stately mansions of the dead Lloyds—a place of somber
aspect. Vast tombs, embowered beneath the weeping willow
and the fir tree, told of the generations of the family, as well
as their wealth. Superstition was rife among the slaves about
this family burying-ground. Strange sights had been seen
there by some of the older slaves, and I was often compelled to
hear stories of shrouded ghosts, riding on great black horses,
and of balls of fire which had been seen to fly there at midnight,
and of startling and dreadful sounds that had been repeatedly
heard. Slaves knew enough of the Orthodox theology at the
time, to consign all bad slaveholders to hell, and they often

30 SLAVE ETIQUETTE.
fancied such persons wishing themselves back again to wield
the lash. Tales of sights and sounds strange and terrible,
connected with the huge black tombs, were a great security to
the grounds about them, for few of the slaves had the courage
to approach them during the day time. It was a dark, gloomy
and forbidding place, and it was difficult to feel that the spirits
of the sleeping dust there deposited reigned with the blest in
the realms of eternal peace.
Here was transacted the business of twenty or thirty dif-
ferent farms, which, with the slaves upon them, numbering, in
all, not less than a thousand, all belonged to Col. Lloyd. Each
farm was under the management of an overseer, whose word
was law.
Mr. Lloyd at this time was very rich. His slaves alone,
numbering as I have said not less than a thousand, were an
immense fortune, and though scarcely a month passed without
the sale of one or more lots to the Georgia traders, there was
no apparent diminution in the number of his human stock.
The selling of any to the State of Georgia was a sore and
mournful event to those left behind, as well as to the victims
themselves. -
The reader has already been informed of the handicrafts
carried on here by the slaves. “Uncle’’ Toney was the black-
smith, “Uncle’’ Harry the cartwright, and “Uncle’’ Abel was
the shoemaker, and these had assistants in their several de-
partments. These mechanics were called “Uncles” by all the
younger slaves, not because they really sustained that relation-
ship to any, but according to plantation etiquette as a mark
of respect, due from the younger to the older slaves. Strange
and even ridiculous as it may seem, among a people so uncul-
tivated and with so many stern trials to look in the face,
there is not to be found among any people a more rigid
enforcement of the law of respect to elders than is maintained
among them. I set this down as partly constitutional with
the colored race and partly conventional. There is no better
material in the world for making a gentleman than is furnished
in the African.

REMEDIES FOR BODY AND SOUL. 31
Among other slave notabilities, I found here one called by
everybody, white and colored, “Uncle”. Isaac Copper. It was
seldom that a slave, however venerable, was honored with a
surname in Maryland, and so completely has the south shaped
the manners of the north in this respect that their right to
such honor is tardily admitted even now. It goes sadly against
the grain to address and treat a negro as one would address
and treat a white man. But once in a while, even in a slave
state, a negro had a surname fastened to him by common “on-
sent. This was the case with “Uncle”. Isaac Copper. When
the “Uncle” was dropped, he was called Doctor Copper. He
was both our Doctor of Medicine and our Doctor of Divinity.
Where he took his degree I am unable to say, but he was too
well established in his profession to permit question as to his
native skill, or attainments. One qualification he certainly
had. He was a confirmed cripple, wholly unable to work, and
was worth nothing for sale in the market. Though lame, he
was no sluggard. He made his crutches do him good service,
and was always on the alert looking up the sick, and such as
were supposed to need his aid and counsel. His remedial pre-
scriptions embraced four articles. For diseases of the body,
epsom salts and castor oil; for those of the soul, the “Lord's
prayer,” and a few stout hickory switches.
I was early sent to Doctor Isaac Copper, with twenty or
thirty other children, to learn the Lord's prayer. The old man
was seated on a huge three-legged oaken stool, armed with
several large hickory switches, and from the point where he
sat, lame as he was, he could reach every boy in the room.
After standing a while to learn what was expected of us, he
commanded us to kneel down. This done, he told us to say
everything he said. “Our Father”—this we repeated after him
with promptness and uniformity—“who art in Heaven,” was
less promptly and uniformly repeated, and the old gentleman
paused in the prayer to give us a short lecture, and to use his
switches on our backs.
Everybody in the South seemed to want the privilege of
32 MY MASTER, CAPT. ANTHONY.
whipping somebody else. Uncle Isaac, though a good old
man, shared the common passion of his time and country. I
cannot say I was much edified by attendance upon his ministry.
There was even at that time something a little inconsistent
and laughable, in my mind, in the blending of prayer with
punishment. I was not long in my new home before I found
that the dread I had conceived of Captain Anthony was in a
measure groundless. Instead of leaping out from some hiding
place and destroying me, he hardly seemed to notice my pres-
ence. He probably thought as little of my arrival there, as of
an additional pig to his stock. He was the chief agent of his
employer. The overseers of all the farms composing the Lloyd
estate, were in some sort under him. The Colonel himself seldom
addressed an overseer, or allowed himself to be addressed by
one. To Captain Anthony, therefore, was committed the head-
ship of all the farms. He carried the keys of all the store-
houses, weighed and measured the allowances of each slave,
at the end of each month; superintended the storing of all
goods brought to the store-house; dealt out the raw material
to the different handicraftsmen, shipped the grain, tobacco,
and all other saleable produce of the numerous farms to Balti-
more, and had a general oversight of all the workshops of the
place. In addition to all this he was frequently called abroad
to Easton and elsewhere in the discharge of his numerous
duties as chief agent of the estate.
The family of Captain Anthony consisted of two sons—An-
drew and Richard, his daughter Lucretia and her newly
married husband, Captain Thomas Auld. In the kitchen were
Aunt Katy, Aunt Esther, and ten or a dozen children, most of
them older than myself. Capt. Anthony was not considered a
rich slave-holder, though he was pretty well off in the world.
He owned about thirty slaves and three farms in the Tuckahoe
district. The more valuable part of his property was in slaves,
of whom he sold one every year, which brought him in seven
or eight hundred dollars, besides his yearly salary and other
revenue from his lands.


THE LAW OF COMPENSATION. 33
I have been often asked during the earlier part of my free
life at the north, how I happened to have so little of the slave
accent in my speech. The mystery is in some measure
explained by my association with Daniel Lloyd, the youngest
son of Col. Edward Lloyd. The law of compensation holds
here as well as elsewhere. While this lad could not associate
with ignorance without sharing its shade, he could not give his
black playmates his company without giving them his superior
intelligence as well. Without knowing this, or caring about it
at the time, I, for some cause or other, was attracted to him
and was much his companion.
I had little to do with the older brothers of Daniel—Edward
and Murray. They were grown up and were fine looking men.
Edward was especially esteemed by the slave children and by
me among the rest, not that he ever said anything to us or for
us which could be called particularly kind. It was enough for
us that he never looked or acted scornfully toward us. The
idea of rank and station was rigidly maintained on this estate.
The family of Captain Anthony never visited the great house,
and the Lloyds never came to our house. Equal non-inter-
course was observed between Captain Anthony’s family and
the family of Mr. Seveir, the overseer.
Such, kind readers, was the community and such the place
in which my earliest and most lasting impressions of the
workings of slavery were received—of which impressions you
will learn more in the after coming chapters of this book.
CHAPTER W.
A STAVEHOLDER'S CHARACTER.
Increasing acquaintance with old Master—Evils of unresisted passion—
Apparent tenderness—A man of trouble–Custom of muttering to himself
—Brutal outrage—A drunken overseer—Slaveholder's impatience—Wis-
dom of appeal—A base and selfish attempt to break up a courtship.
LTHOUGH my old master, Captain Anthony, gave me,
A. at the first of my coming to him from my grandmother’s,
very little attention, and although that little was of a remark-
ably mild and gentle description, a few months only were
sufficient to convince me that mildness and gentleness were
not the prevailing or governing traits of his character. These
excellent qualities were displayed only occasionally. He could,
when it suited him, appear to be literally insensible to the
claims of humanity. He could not only be deaf to the appeals
of the helpless against the aggressor, but he could himself
commit outrages deep, dark, and nameless. Yet he was not
by nature worse than other men. Had he been brought up in
a free state, surrounded by the full restraints of civilized society
—restraints which are necessary to the freedom of all its
members, alike and equally, Capt. Anthony might have been
as humane a man as are members of such society generally.
A man’s character always takes its hue, more or less, from the
form and color of things about him. The slaveholder, as well
as the slave, was the victim of the slave system. Under the
whole heavens there could be no relation more unfavorable to
the development of honorable character than that sustained
by the slaveholder to the slave. Reason is imprisoned here
and passions run wild. Could the reader have seen Captain
Anthony gently leading me by the hand, as he sometimes
did, patting me on the head, speaking to me in soft, caressing
tones and calling me his little Indian boy, he would have


(34)

A slav EHOLDER's CHARACTER. 35
deemed him a kind-hearted old man, and really almost fatherly
to the slave boy. But the pleasant moods of a slaveholder are
transient and fitful. They neither come often nor remain
long. The temper of the old man was subject to special trials,
but since these trials were never borne patiently, they added
little to his natural stock of patience. Aside from his troubles
with his slaves and those of Mr. Lloyd's, he made the impres-
sion upon me of being an unhappy man. Even to my child's
eye he wore a troubled and at times a haggard aspect. His
strange movements excited my curiosity and awakened my
compassion. He seldom walked alone without muttering to
himself, and he occasionally stormed about as if defying an
army of invisible foes. Most of his leisure was spent in walk-
ing around, cursing and gesticulating as if possessed by a
demon. He was evidently a wretched man, at war with his
own soul and all the world around him. To be overheard by
the children disturbed him very little. He made no more of
our presence than that of the ducks and geese he met on the
green. But when his gestures were most violent, ending with
a threatening shake of the head and a sharp snap of his middle
finger and thumb, I deemed it wise to keep at a safe distance
from him. -
One of the first circumstances that opened my eyes to the
cruelties and wickedness of slavery and its hardening influ-
ences upon my old master, was his refusal to interpose his
authority to protect and shield a young woman, a cousin of
mine, who had been most cruelly abused and beaten by his
overseer in Tuckahoe. This overseer, a Mr. Plummer, was
like most of his class, little less than a human brute; and in
addition to his general profligacy and repulsive coarseness,
he was a miserable drunkard, a man not fit to have the man-
agement of a drove of mules. In one of his moments of
drunken madness he committed the outrage which brought
the young woman in question down to my old master's for
protection. The poor girl, on her arrival at our house, pre-
sented a most pitiable appearance. She had left in haste
and without preparation, and probably without the knowledge
£6 CRUEL BEATING BY AN OVERSEER.
of Mr. Plummer. She had traveled twelve miles, bare-footed,
bare-necked, and bare-headed. Her neck and shoulders were
covered with scars newly made, and not content with marring
her neck and shoulders with the cowhide, the cowardly wretch
had dealt her a blow on the head with a hickory club, which
cut a horrible gash and left her face literally covered with
blood. In this condition the poor young woman came down
to implore protection at the hands of my old master. I
expected to see him boil over with rage at the revolting deed,
and to hear him fill the air with curses upon the brutal Plum-
mer; but I was disappointed. He sternly told her in an
angry tone, “She deserved every bit of it, and if she did not
go home instantly he would himself take the remaining skin
from her neck and back.” Thus the poor girl was compelled
to return without redress, and perhaps to receive an additional
flogging for daring to appeal to authority higher than that of
the overseer. -
I did not at that time understand the philosophy of this
treatment of my cousin. I think I now understand it. This
treatment was a part of the system, rather than a part of the
man. To have encouraged appeals of this kind would have
occasioned much loss of time, and leave the overseer power-
less to enforce obedience. Nevertheless, when a slave had
nerve enough to go straight to his master, with a well-founded
complaint against an overseer, though he might be repelled
and have even that of which he complained at the time re-
peated, and though he might be beaten by his master as well
as by the overseer, for his temerity, in the end, the policy of
complaining was generally vindicated by the relaxed rigor
of the overseer's treatment. The latter became more careful
and less disposed to use the lash upon such slaves thereafter,
The overseer very naturally disliked to have the ear of the
master disturbed by complaints, and either for this reason or
because of advice privately given him by his employer, he
generally modified the rigor of his rule after complaints of
this kind had been made against him. For some cause or
other the slaves, no matter how often they were repulsed by



MASTER AND OVERSEER. 37
their masters, were ever disposed to regard them with less
abhorrence than the overseer. And yet these masters would
often go beyond their overseers in wanton cruelty. They
wielded the lash without any sense of responsibility. They
could cripple or kill without fear of consequences. I have
seen my old master in a tempest of wrath, full of pride,
hatred, jealousy, and revenge, where he seemed a very fiend.
The circumstances which I am about to narrate, and which
gave rise to this fearful tempest of passion, were not singular,
but very common in our slave-holding community.
The reader will have noticed that among the names of
slaves, Esther is mentioned. This was a young woman who
possessed that which was ever a curse to the slave girl—
namely, personal beauty. She was tall, light-colored, well
formed, and made a fine appearance. Esther was courted by
“Ned Roberts,” the son of a favorite slave of Col. Lloyd,
who was as fine-looking a young man as Esther was a woman.
Some slave-holders would have been glad to have promoted
the marriage of two such persons, but for some reason, Cap-
tain Anthony disapproved of their courtship. He strictly
ordered her to quit the company of young Roberts, telling
her that he would punish her severely if he ever found her
again in his company. But it was impossible to keep this
couple apart. Meet they would, and meet they did. Had
Mr. Anthony been himself a man of honor, his motives in
this matter might have appeared more favorably. As it was,
they appeared as abhorrent as they were contemptible. It
was one of the damning characteristics of slavery, that it
robbed its victims of every earthly incentive to a holy life.
The fear of God and the hope of heaven were sufficient to
sustain many slave women amidst the snares and dangers of
their strange lot; but they were ever at the mercy of the
power, passion, and caprice of their owners. Slavery pro-
vided no means for the honorable perpetuation of the race.
Yet despite of this destitution there were many men and
Women among the slaves who were true and faithful to each
other through life.
38 INTERFERENCE OF THE MASTER.
But to the case in hand. Abhorred and circumvented as
he was, Captain Anthony, having the power, was determined
on revenge. I happened to see its shocking execution, and
shall never forget the scene. It was early in the morning,
when all was still, and before any of the family in the house
or kitchen had risen. I was, in fact, awakened by the heart-
rending shrieks and piteous cries of poor Esther. My sleep-
ing-place was on the dirt floor of a little rough closet which
opened into the kitchen, and through the cracks in its unplaned
boards I could distinctly see and hear what was going on,
without being seen. Esther's wrists were firmly tied, and the
twisted rope was fastened to a strong iron staple in a heavy
wooden beam above, near the fire-place. Here she stood on a
bench, her arms tightly drawn above her head. Her back
and shoulders were perfectly bare. Behind her stood old
master, with cowhide in hand, pursuing his barbarous work
with all manner of harsh, coarse, and tantalizing epithets.
He was cruelly deliberate, and protracted the torture as one
who was delighted with the agony of his victim. Again and
again he drew the hateful scourge through his hand, adjusting
it with a view of dealing the most pain-giving blow his strength
and skill could inflict. Poor Esther had never before been
severely whipped. Her shoulders were plump and tender.
Each blow, vigorously laid on, brought screams from her as
well as blood. “Have mercy! Oh, mercy!” she cried. “I
wont do so no more.” But her piercing cries seemed only to
increase his fury. The whole scene, with all its attendants,
was revolting and shocking to the last degree, and when the
motives for the brutal castigation are known, language has no
power to convey a just sense of its dreadful criminality. -
After laying on I dare not say how many stripes, old master
untied his suffering victim. When let down she could scarcely
stand. From my heart I pitied her, and child as I was, and
new to such scenes, the shock was tremendous. I was terri-
fied, hushed, stunned, and bewildered. The scene here de-
scribed was often repeated, for Edward and Esther continued
to meet, notwithstanding all efforts to prevent their meeting.


CHAPTER VI.
A CHILD'S REASONING.
The author's early reflections on Slavery–Aunt Jennie and Uncle Noah-
Presentment of one day becoming a freeman–Conflict between an over-
seer and a slave woman–Advantage of resistance—Death of an overseer-
Col. Lloyd's plantation home–Monthly distribution of food—Singing of
Slaves—An explanation—The slaves food and clothing–Naked children
—Life in the quarter–Sleeping places—not beds—Deprivation of sleep-
Care of nursing babies—Ash cake-Contrast.
HE incidents related in the foregoing chapter led me thus
T early to inquire into the origin and nature of slavery.
Why am I a slave : Why are some people slaves and others
masters ? These were perplexing questions and very trouble-
some to my childhood. I was told by some one very early that
“God up in the sky” had made all things, and had made black
people to be slaves and white people to be masters. I was
told too that God was good and that he knew what was best
for everybody. This was, however, less satisfactory than the
first statement. It came point blank against all my notions
of goodness. The case of Aunt Esther was in my mind. Be-
sides, I could not tell how anybody could know that God made
black people to be slaves. Then I found, too, that there were
puzzling exceptions to this theory of slavery, in the fact that
all black people were not slaves, and all white people were not
masters. An incident occurred about this time that made a
deep impression on my mind. One of the men slaves of Cap-
tain Anthony and my Aunt Jennie ran away. A great noise
was made about it. Old master was furious. He said he
would follow them and catch them and bring them back, but
he never did it, and somebody told me that Uncle Noah and
Aunt Jennie had gone to the free states and were free. Be-
sides this occurrence, which brought much light to my mind
3 (39)
40 SLAVE IMPUDENCE.
on the subject, there were several slaves on Mr. Lloyd's
place who remembered being brought from Africa. There
were others that told me that their fathers and mothers were
stolen from Africa.
This to me was important knowledge, but not such as to
make me feel very easy in my slave condition. The success
of Aunt Jennie and Uncle Noah in getting away from slavery
was, I think, the first fact that made me seriously think of
escape for myself. I could not have been more than seven or
eight years old at the time of this occurrence, but young as I
was I was already a fugitive from slavery in spirit and purpose.
Up to the time of the brutal treatment of my Aunt Esther,
already narrated, and the shocking plight in which I had seen
my cousin from Tuckahoe, my attention had not been espec-
ially directed to the grosser and more revolting features of
slavery. I had, of course, heard of whippings and savage
mutilations of slaves by brutal overseers, but happily for me I
had always been out of the way of such occurrences. My play
time was spent outside of the corn and tobacco fields, where
the overseers and slaves were brought together and in conflict.
But after the case of my Aunt Esther I saw others of the
same disgusting and shocking nature. The one of these
which agitated and distressed me most was the whipping of a
woman, not belonging to my old master, but to Col. Lloyd.
The charge against her was very common and very indefinite,
namely, “impudence.” This crime could be committed by a
slave in a hundred different ways, and depended much upon
the temper and caprice of the overseer as to whether it was
committed at all. He could create the offense whenever it
pleased him. A look, a word, a gesture, accidental or inten-
tional, never failed to be taken as impudence when he was in
the right mood for such an offense. In this case there were
all the necessary conditions for the commission of the crime
charged. The offender was nearly white, to begin with ; she
was the wife of a favorite hand on board of Mr. Lloyd's sloop
and was besides the mother of five sprightly children. Vig-



LITTLE CHILDREN SEEING THEIR MOTHER WHIPPED. 41
orous and spirited woman that she was, a wife and a mother,
with a predominating share of the blood of the master running
in her veins. Nellie (for that was her name) had all the qualities
essential to impudence to a slave overseer. My attention was
called to the scene of the castigation by the loud screams and
curses that proceeded from the direction of it. When I came
near the parties engaged in the struggle, the overseer had hold
of Nelly, endeavoring with his whole strength to drag her to
a tree against her resistance. Both his and her faces were
bleeding, for the woman was doing her best. Three of her
children were present, and though quite small, (from seven to
ten years old I should think,) they gallantly took the side of
their mother against the overseer, and pelted him well with
stones and epithets. Amid the screams of the children “Let
my mammy go / Let my mammy go /* the hoarse voice of the
maddened overseer was heard in terrible oaths that he would
teach her how to give a white man “impudence.” The blood
on his face and on hers attested her skill in the use of her nails,
and his dogged determination to conquer. His purpose was to
tie her up to a tree and give her, in slave-holding parlance, a
“genteel flogging,” and he evidently had not expected the
stern and protracted resistance he was meeting, or the strength
and skill needed to its execution. There were times when she
seemed likely to get the better of the brute, but he finally over-
powered her, and succeeded in getting her arms firmly tied to
the tree towards which he had been dragging her. The victim
was now at the mercy of his merciless lash. What followed
I need not here describe. The cries of the now helpless
woman, while undergoing the terrible infliction, were mingled
with the hoarse curses of the overseer and the wild ories of
her distracted children. When the poor woman was untied,
her back was covered with blood. She was whipped, terribly
whipped, but she was not subdued, and continued to denounce
the overseer, and pour upon him every vile epithet she could
think of Such floggings are seldom repeated by overseers on
the same persons. They prefer to whip those who were the
42 UNLAMENTED DEATH OF AN OVERSEER.
most easily whipped. The doctrine that submission to vio-
lence is the best cure for violence did not hold good as between
slaves and overseers. He was whipped oftener who was whip-
ped easiest. That slave who had the courage to standup for him-
self against the overseer, although he might have many hard
stripes at first, became while legally a slave virtually a free-
man. “You can shoot me,” said a slave to Rigby Hopkins,
“but you can't whip me,” and the result was he was neither
whipped nor shot. I do not know that Mr. Sevier ever
attempted to whip Nelly again. He probably never did, for
not long after he was taken sick and died. It was commonly
said that his death-bed was a wretched one, and that, the ruling
passion being strong in death, he died flourishing the
slave whip and with horrid oaths upon his lips. This death-
bed scene may only be the imagining of the slaves. One thing
is certain, that when he was in health his profanity was enough
to chill the blood of an ordinary man. Nature, or habit, had
given to his face an expression of uncommon savageness.
Tobacco and rage had ground his teeth short, and nearly every
sentence that he uttered was commenced or completed with an
oath. Hated for his cruelty, despised for his cowardice, he
went to his grave lamented by nobody on the place outside of
his own house, if, indeed, he was even lamented there.
In Mr. James Hopkins, the succeeding overseer, we had a
different and a better man, as good perhaps as any man could
be in the position of a slave overseer. Though he sometimes
wielded the lash, it was evident that he took no pleasure in it
and did it with much reluctance. He stayed but a short time
here, and his removal from the position was much regretted
by the slaves generally. Of the successor of Mr. Hopkins 1
shall have something to say at another time and in another
place.
For the present we will attend to a further description of
the business-like aspect of Col. Lloyd’s “Great House” farm.
There was always much bustle and noise here on the two days
at the end of each month, for then the slaves belonging to


APPARENT CHEERFULNESS OF SLAVES. 43
the different branches of this great estate assembled here by
their representatives to obtain their monthly allowances of
corn-meal and pork. These were gala days for the slaves of
the outlying farms, and there was much rivalry among them
as to who should be elected to go up to the Great House farm
for the “Allowances,” and indeed to attend to any other busi-
ness at this great place, to them the capitol of a little nation.
Its beauty and grandeur, its immense wealth, its numerous
population, and the fact that uncles Harry, Peter, and Jake,
the sailors on board the sloop, usually kept on sale trinkets
which they bought in Baltimore to sell to their less fortunate
fellow-servants, made a visit to the Great House farm a high
privilege, and eagerly sought. It was valued, too, as a mark
of distinction and confidence; but probably the chief motive
among the competitors for the office was the opportunity it
afforded to shake off the monotony of the field and to get
beyond the overseer's eye and lash. Once on the road with
an ox-team, and seated on the tongue of the cart, with no
overseer to look after him, he felt himself comparatively free.
Slaves were expected to sing as well as to work. A silent
slave was not liked, either by masters or by overseers. “Make
a noise there / make a noise there ''' and “bear a hand,” were
words usually addressed to slaves when they were silent.
This, and the natural disposition of the negro to make a noise
in the world, may account for the almost constant singing
among them when at their work. There was generally more
or less singing among the teamsters at all times. It was a
means of telling the overseer, in the distance, where they
were, and what they were about. But on the allowance days
those commissioned to the Great House farm were peculiarly
vocal. While on the way they would make the grand old
Woods for miles around reverberate with their wild and plain-
tive notes. They were indeed both merry and sad. Child as
I was, these wild songs greatly depressed my spirits. No-
where outside of dear old Ireland, in the days of want and
famine, have I heard sounds so mournful.
44 GRIEF NOT ALWAYS EXPRESSED.
In all these slave songs there was ever some expression of
praise of the Great House farm—something that would please
the pride of the Lloyds.
I am going away to the Great House farm,
O, yea! 0, yea 0, yea I
My old master is a good old master,
O, yea! 0, yea! 0, yea
These words would be sung over and over again, with others,
improvised as they went along—jargon, perhaps, to the reader,
but full of meaning to the singers. I have sometimes thought
that the mere hearing of these songs would have done more
to impress the good people of the north with the soul-crush-
ing character of slavery than whole volumes exposing the
physical cruelties of the slave system; for the heart has no
language like song. Many years ago, when recollecting my
experience in this respect, I wrote of these slave songs in the
following strain:
“I did not, when a slave, fully understand the deep mean-
ing of those rude and apparently incoherent songs. I was,
myself, within the circle, so that I could then neither hear
nor see as those without might see and hear. They breathed
the prayer and complaint of souls overflowing with the bitter-
est anguish. They depressed my spirits and filled my heart
with ineffable sadness.”
The remark in the olden time was not unfrequently made,
that slaves were the most contented and happy laborers in
the world, and their dancing and singing were referred to in
proof of this alleged fact; but it was a great mistake to sup-
pose them happy because they sometimes made those joyful
noises. The songs of the slaves represented their sorrows,
rather than their joys. Like tears, they were a relief to
aching hearts. It is not inconsistent with the constitution of
the human mind, that avails itself of one and the same method
for expressing opposite emotions. Sorrow and desolation
have their songs, as well as joy and peace.
It was the boast of slaveholders that their slaves enjoyed


SLAVE CLOTHING AND HABITS. 45
more of the physical comforts of life than the peasantry of
any country in the world. My experience contradicts this.
The men and the women slaves on Col. Lloyd's farm received
as their monthly allowance of food, eight pounds of pickled
pork, or its equivalent in fish. The pork was often tainted,
and the fish were of the poorest quality. With their pork or
fish, they had given them one bushel of Indian meal, unbolted,
of which quite fifteen per cent, was more fit for pigs than for
men. With this one pint of salt was given, and this was the
entire monthly allowance of a full-grown slave, working con-
stantly in the open field from morning till night every day in
the month except Sunday. There is no kind of work which
really requires a better supply of food to prevent physical
exhaustion than the field work of a slave. The yearly allow-
ance of clothing was not more ample than the supply of food.
It consisted of two tow-linen shirts, one pair of trowsers of
the same coarse material, for summer, and a woolen pair of
trowsers and a woolen jacket for winter, with one pair of
yarn stockings and a pair of shoes of the coarsest description.
Children under ten years old had neither shoes, stockings,
jackets, nor trowsers. They had two coarse tow-linen shirts
per year, and when these were worn out they went naked till
the next allowance day—and this was the condition of the
little girls as well as the boys. As to beds, they had none.
One coarse blanket was given them, and this only to the men
and women. The children stuck themselves in holes and
corners about the quarters, often in the corners of huge chim-
neys, with their feet in the ashes to keep them warm. The
want of beds, however, was not considered a great privation
by the field hands. Time to sleep was of far greater import-
ance. For when the day’s work was done most of these had
their washing, mending, and cooking to do, and having few
or no facilities for doing such things, very many of their
needed sleeping hours were consumed in necessary prepara-
tions for the labors of the coming day. The sleeping apart-
ments, if they could have been properly called such, had little
46 ASH CAKE.
regard to comfort or decency. Old and young, male and
female, married and single, dropped down upon the common
clay floor, each covering up with his or her blanket, their
only protection from cold or exposure. The night, however,
was shortened at both ends. The slaves worked often as long
as they could see, and were late in cooking and mending for
the coming day, and at the first gray streak of the morning
they were summoned to the field by the overseer's horn.
They were whipped for over-sleeping more than for any other
fault. Neither age nor sex found any favor. The overseer
stood at the quarter door, armed with stick and whip, ready
to deal heavy blows upon any who might be a little behind
time. When the horn was blown there was a rush for the
door, for the hindermost one was sure to get a blow from the
overseer. Young mothers who worked in the field were
allowed an hour about ten o’clock in the morning to go home
to nurse their children. This was when they were not re-
quired to take them to the field with them, and leave them
upon “turning row,” or in the corner of the fences.
As a general rule the slaves did not come to their quarters
to take their meals, but took their ash-cake (called thus be-
cause baked in the ashes) and piece of pork, or their salt her-
rings, where they were at work. -
But let us now leave the rough usage of the field, where
vulgar coarseness and brutal cruelty flourished as rank as
weeds in the tropics, where a vile wretch, in the shape of a
man, rides, walks, and struts about, with whip in hand, deal-
ing heavy blows and leaving deep gashes on the flesh of men
and women, and turn our attention to the less repulsive slave
life as it existed in the home of my childhood. Some idea
of the splendor of that place sixty years ago has already
been given. The contrast between the condition of the slaves
and that of their masters was marvelously sharp and striking.
There were pride, pomp, and luxury on the one hand, servility,
dejection, and misery on the other.


CHAPTER VII.
LUXURIES AT THE GREAT HOUSE.
contºs's great House luxuries—Its hospitality—Entertainments—Fault-
finding—Shameful humiliation of an old and faithful coachman–William
Wilks—Curious incident—Expressed satisfaction not always genuine—
Reasons for suppressing the truth.
HE close-fisted stinginess that fed the poor slave on coarse
T corn-meal and tainted meat, that clothed him in crashy
tow-linen and hurried him on to toil through the field in all
weathers, with wind and rain beating through his tattered
garments, that scarcely gave even the young slave-mother
time to nurse her infant in the fence-corner, wholly vanished
on approaching the sacred precincts of the “Great House”
itself. There the scriptural phrase descriptive of the wealthy
found exact illustration. The highly-favored inmates of this
mansion were literally arrayed in “purple and fine linen, and
fared sumptuously every day.” The table of this house
groaned under the blood-bought luxuries gathered with pains-
taking care at home and abroad. Fields, forests, rivers, and
seas were made tributary. Immense wealth and its lavish
expenditures filled the Great House with all that could please
the eye or tempt the taste. Fish, flesh, and fowl were here
in profusion. Chickens of all breeds; ducks of all kinds,
wild and tame, the common and the huge Muscovite; Guinea
fowls, turkeys, geese, and pea-fowls were fat, and fattening
for the destined vortex. Here the graceful swan, the mon-
grels, the black-necked wild goose, partridges, quails, pheas-
ants and pigeons, choice water-fowl, with all their strange
varieties, were caught in this huge net. Beef, veal, mutton,
and venison, of the most select kinds and quality, rolled in
bounteous profusion to this grand consumer. The teeming
3 * (47)
48 CHOICE WIANDS AT THE LLOYDS.
riches of the Chesapeake Bay, its rock perch, drums, crocus,
trout, oysters, crabs, and terrapin were drawn hither to adorn
the glittering table. The dairy, too, the finest then on the
eastern shore of Maryland, supplied by cattle of the best
English stock, imported for the express purpose, poured its
rich donations of fragrant cheese, golden butter, and delicious
cream to heighten the attractions of the gorgeous, unending
round of feasting. Nor were the fruits of the earth over-
looked. The fertile garden, many acres in size, constituting
a separate establishment distinct from the common farm, with
its scientific gardener direct from Scotland, a Mr. McDermott,
and four men under his direction, was not behind, either in
the abundance or in the delicacy of its contributions. The
tender asparagus, the crispy celery, and the delicate cauli–
flower, egg plants, beets, lettuce, parsnips, peas, and French
beans, early and late, radishes, cantelopes, melons of all
kinds; and the fruits of all climes and of every description,
from the hardy apples of the north to the lemon and orange
of the south, culminated at this point. Here were gathered
figs, raisins, almonds, and grapes from Spain, wines and
brandies from France, teas of various flavor from China, and
rich, aromatic coffee from Java, all conspiring to swell the
tide of high life, where pride and indolence lounged in mag-
nificence and satiety.
Behind the tall-backed and elaborately wrought chairs stood
the servants, fifteen in number, carefully selected, not only
with a view to their capacity and adeptness, but with especial
regard to their personal appearance, their graceful agility,
and pleasing address. Some of these servants, armed with
fans, waſted reviving breezes to the over-heated brows of the
alabaster ladies, whilst others watched with eager eye and
fawn-like step, anticipating and supplying wants before they
were sufficiently formed to be announced by word or sign.
These servants constituted a sort of black aristocracy.
They resembled the field hands in nothing except their color,
and in this they held the advantage of a velvet-like glossiness,
















CARRIAGES, HORSES, AND HOUNDS- 49
rich and beautiful. The hair, too, showed the same advant-
age. The delicately-formed colored maid rustled in the
scarcely-worn silk of her young mistress, while the servant
men were equally well attired from the overflowing wardrobe
of their young masters, so that in dress, as well as in form
and feature, in manner and speech, in tastes and habits, the
distance between these favored few and the sorrow and hun-
ger-smitten multitudes of the quarter and the field was im-
Innen Se.
In the stables and carriage-houses were to be found the
same evidences of pride and luxurious extravagance. Here
were three splendid coaches, soft within and lustrous without.
Here, too, were gigs, phaetons, barouches, sulkeys, and sleighs.
Here were saddles and harnesses, beautifully wrought and
richly mounted. Not less than thirty-five horses of the best
approved blood, both for speed and beauty, were kept only
for pleasure. The care of these horses constituted the entire
occupation of two men, one or the other of them being always
in the stable to answer any call which might be made from
the Great House. Over the way from the stable was a house
built expressly for the hounds, a pack of twenty-five or thirty,
the fare for which would have made glad the hearts of a dozen
slaves. Horses and hounds, however, were not the only con-
sumers of the slave's toil. The hospitality practiced at the
Lloyd's would have astonished and charmed many a health-
seeking divine or merchant from the north. Viewed from
his table, and not from the field, Colonel Lloyd was, indeed, a
model of generous hospitality. His house was literally a
hotel for weeks, during the summer months. At these times,
especially, the air was freighted with the rich fumes of bak-
ing, boiling, roasting, and broiling. It was something to me
that I could share these odors with the winds, even if the
meats themselves were under a more stringent monopoly. In
master Daniel I had a friend at court, who would sometimes
give me a cake, and who kept me well informed as to their
guests and their entertainments. Viewed from Col. Lloyd's

50 OLD BARNEY THE HOSTLER.
table, who could have said that his slaves were not well clad
and well cared for Who would have said they did not glory
in being the slaves of such a master 7 Who but a fanatic
could have seen any cause for sympathy for either master or
slave Alas, this immense wealth, this gilded splendor, this
profusion of luxury, this exemption from toil, this life of ease,
this sea of plenty were not the pearly gates they seemed to a
world of happiness and sweet content. The poor slave, on
his hard pine plank, scantily covered with his thin blanket,
slept more soundly than the feverish voluptuary who reclined
upon his downy pillow. Food to the indolent is poison, not
sustenance. Lurking beneath the rich and tempting viands
were invisible spirits of evil, which filled the self-deluded
gourmandizer with aches and pains, passions uncontrollable,
fierce tempers, dyspepsia, rheumatism, lumbago, and gout,
and of these the Lloyds had a full share.
I had many opportunities of witnessing the restless discon-
tent and capricious irritation of the Lloyds. My fondness for
horses attracted me to the stables much of the time. The two
men in charge of this establishment were old and young Bar-
ney—father and son. Old Barney was a fine looking, portly
old man of a brownish complexion, and a respectful and dig.
nified bearing. He was much devoted to his profession, and
held his office as an honorable one. He was a farrier as well
as an ostler, and could bleed, remove lampers from their
mouths, and administer medicine to horses. No one on the
farm knew so well as old Barney what to do with a sick horse;
but his office was not an enviable one, and his gifts and
acquirements were of little advantage to him. In nothing was
Col. Lloyd more unreasonable and exacting than in respect to
the management of his horses. Any supposed inattention to
these animals was sure to be visited with degrading punish-
ment. His horses and dogs fared better than his men. Their
beds were far softer and cleaner than those of his human cat.
tle. No excuse could shield old Barney if the Colonel only
suspected something wrong about his horses, and consequently

#2
-T
s
S
\V III PPING OF OLD BARNEY.



HIS HUMILIATING TREATMENT FROM COL. LLOYD. 51
he was often punished when faultless. It was painful to hear
the unreasonable and fretful scoldings administered by Col.
Lloyd, his son Murray, and his sons-in-law, to this p00r man.
Three of the daughters of Col. Lloyd were married, and they
with their husbands remained at the great house a portion of
the year, and enjoyed the luxury of whipping the servants
when they pleased. A horse was seldom brought out of the
stable to which no objection could be raised. “There was dust
in his hair;” “there was a twist in his reins;” “his foretop
was not combed;” “his mane did not lie straight;" “his head
did not look well;” “his fetlocks had not been properly
trimmed.” Something was always wrong. However ground-
less the complaint, Barney must stand, hat in hand, lips sealed,
never answering a word in explanation or excuse. In a free
State, a master thus complaining without cause: might be told
by his ostler: “Sir, I am sorry I cannot please you, but since
I have done the best I can and fail to do so, your remedy is
to dismiss me.” But here the ostler must listen and trem-
blingly abide his master's behest. One of the most heart-sadden-
ing and humiliating scenes I ever witnessed was the whipping of
old Barney by Col. Lloyd. These two men were both advanced
in years; there were the silver locks of the master, and the
buld and toil-worn brow of the slave—superior and inferior
here, powerful and weak here, but equals before God. “Un-
cover your head,” said the imperious master; he was obeyed.
“Take off your jacket, you old rascal!” and off came Bar-
ney's jacket. “Down on your knees' down knelt the old
man, his shoulders bare, his bald head glistening in the sun-
shine, and his aged knees on the cold, damp ground. In this
humble and debasing attitude, that master, to whom he had
devoted the best years and the best strength of his life, came
forward and laid on thirty lashes with his horse-whip. The
old man made no resistance, but bore it patiently, answering
each blow with only a shrug of the shoulders and a groan. I
do not think that the physical suffering from this infliction was
severe, for the whip was a light riding-whip; but the spectacle

52 UNNATURAL RELATIONS AND JEALOUSIES.
of an aged man—a husband and a father—humbly kneeling
before his fellow-man, shocked me at the time; and since I
have grown older, few of the features of slavery have impressed
me with a deeper sense of its injustice and barbarity than this
exciting scene. I owe it to the truth, however, to say that
this was the first and last time I ever saw a slave compelled
to kneel to receive a whipping.
Another incident, illustrating a phase of slavery to which
I have referred in another connection, I may here mention.
Besides two other coachmen, Col. Lloyd owned one named
William Wilks, and his was one of the exceptionable cases
where a slave possessed a surname, and was recognized by it,
by both colored and white people. Wilks was a very fine-look-
ing man. He was about as white as any one on the planta-
tion, and in form and feature bore a very striking resemblance
to Murray Lloyd. It was whispered and generally believed
that William Wilks was a son of Col. Lloyd, by a highly
favored slave-woman, who was still on the plantation. There
were many reasons for believing this whisper, not only from
his personal appearance, but from the undeniable freedom
which he enjoyed over all others, and his apparent conscious-
ness of being something more than a slave to his master. It
was notorious too that William had a deadly enemy in Mur-
ray Lloyd, whom he so much resembled, and that the latter
greatly worried his father with importunities to sell William.
Indeed, he gave his father no rest, until he did sell him to
Austin Woldfolk, the great slave-trader at that time. Before
selling him, however, he tried to make things smooth by giv-
ing William a whipping, but it proved a failure. It was a
compromise, and like most such, defeated itself-for soon
after Col. Lloyd atoned to William for the abuse by giving him a
gold watch and chain. Another fact somewhat curious was,
that though sold to the remorseless Woldfolk, taken in irons
to Baltimore, and cast into prison, with a view to being
sent to the South, William outbid all his purchasers, paid for
himself, and afterwards resided in Baltimore. How this was

A FAVORITE SOLD TO THE SLAVE TRADER. 53
accomplished was a great mystery at the time, explained only
on the supposition that the hand which had bestowed the gold
watch and chain had also supplied the purchase-money, but I
have since learned that this was not the true explanation.
Wilks had many friends in Baltimore and Annapolis, and they
united to save him from a fate which was the one of all others
most dreaded by the slaves. Practical amalgamation was how-
ever so common at the South, and so many circumstances
pointedin that direction, that there was little reason to doubt
that William Wilks was the son of Edward Lloyd.
The real feelings and opinions of the slaves were not much
known or respected by their masters. The distance between
the two was too great to admit of such knowledge; and in
this respect Col. Lloyd was no exception to the rule. His
slaves were so numerous he did not know them when he saw
them. Nor, indeed, did all his slaves know him. It is re-
ported of him, that riding along the road one day he met a
colored man, and addressed him in what was the usual way
of speaking to colored people on the public highways of the
South: “Well, boy, who do you belong to?” “To Col. Lloyd,”
replied the slave. “Well, does the Colonel treat you well ?”
“No, sir,” was the ready reply. “What, does he work you
hard 7" “Yes, sir.” “Well, don’t he give you enough to eat?”
“Yes, sir, he gives me enough to eat, such as it is.” The
Colonel rode on ; the slave also went on about his business,
not dreaming that he had been conversing with his master.
He thought and said nothing of the matter, until two or three
weeks afterwards, he was 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 hand-
cuffed; and thus without a moment's warning, he was snatched
away, and forever sundered from his family and friends by a
hand as unrelenting as that of death. This was the penalty
of telling the simple truth, in answer to a series of plain ques-
tions. It was partly in consequence of such facts, that slaves,
when inquired of as to their condition and the character of

54 A STILL TONGUE MAKES A WISE HEAD.
their masters, would almost invariably say that they were con-
tented and their masters kind. Slaveholders are known to
have sent spies among their slaves to ascertain if possible their
views and feelings in regard to their condition; hence the
maxim established among them, that “a still tongue makes a
wise head.” They would suppress the truth rather than take
the consequences of telling it, and in so doing they prove
themselves a part of the human family. I was frequently
asked if I had a kind master, and I do not remember ever to
have given a negative reply. I did not consider myself as
uttering that which was strictly untrue, for I always measured
the kindness of my master by the standard of kindness set
up by the slaveholders around us.

CHAPTER VIII.
CHARACTERISTICS OF OVERSEERS.
Austin Gore–Sketch of his character—Overseers as a class—Their peculiar
characteristics—The marked individuality of Austin Gore–His sense of
duty—Murder of poor Denby-Sensation–How Gore made his peace
with Col. Lloyd–Other horrible murders-N o laws for the protection of
slaves possible of being enforced.
HE comparatively moderate rule of Mr. Hopkins as over-
T seer on Col Lloyd's plantation was succeeded by that of
another whose name was Austin Gore. I hardly know how
to bring this man fitly before the reader, for under him there
was more suffering from violence and bloodshed than had,
according to the older slaves, ever been experienced before at
this place. He was an overseer, and possessed the peculiar
characteristics of his class, yet to call him merely an over-
seer would not give one a fair conception of the man. I
speak of overseers as a class, for they were such. They were
as distinct from the slave-holding gentry of the south as are
the fish-women of Paris, and the coal-heavers of London, dis-
tinct from other grades of society. They constituted a sepa-
rate fraternity at the south. They were arranged and classi-
fied by that great law of attraction which determines the
sphere and affinities of men; which ordains that men whose
malign and brutal propensities preponderate over their moral
and intellectual endowments shall naturally fall into those
employments which promise the largest gratification to those
predominating instincts or propensities. The office of over-
seer took this raw material of vulgarity and brutality, and
stamped it as a distinct class in southern life. But in this
class, as in all other classes, there were sometimes persons of
marked individuality, yet with a general resemblance to the
(55)
56 BILL DENBY’s MURDER.
mass. Mr. Gore was one of those to whom a general char-
acterization would do no manner of justice. He was an over-
seer, but he was something more. With the malign and
tyrannical qualities of an overseer he combined something of
the lawful master. He had the artfulness and mean ambi-
tion of his class, without its disgusting swagger and noisy
bravado. There was an easy air of independence about him;
a calm self-possession; at the same time a sternness of glance
which well might daunt less timid hearts than those of poor
slaves, accustomed from childhood to cower before a driver's
lash. He was one of those overseers who could torture the
slightest word or look into impudence, and he had the nerve
not only to resent, but to punish promptly and severely.
There could be no answering back. Guilty or not guilty, to
be accused was to be sure of a flogging. His very presence
was fearful, and I shunned him as I would have shunned a
rattlesnake. His piercing black eyes and sharp, shrill voice
ever awakened sensations of dread. Other overseers, how
brutal soever they might be, would sometimes seek to gain
favor with the slaves, by indulging in a little pleasantry; but
Gore never said a funny thing, or perpetrated a joke. He
was always cold, distant, and unapproachable—the overseer
on Col. Edward Lloyd's plantation—and needed no higher
pleasure than the performance of the duties of his office.
When he used the lash, it was from a sense of duty, without
fear of consequences. There was a stern will, an iron-like
reality about him, which would easily have made him chief of
a band of pirates, had his environments been favorable to
such a sphere. Among many other deeds of shocking cruelty
committed by him was the murder of a young colored man
named Bill Denby. He was a powerful fellow, full of animal
spirits, and one of the most valuable of Col. Lloyd's slaves.
In some way—I know not what—he offended this Mr. Austin
Gore, and in accordance with the usual custom the latter
undertook to flog him. He had given him but few stripes
when Denby broke away from him, plunged into the creek,


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GORE's DEFENSE. 57
and standing there with the water up to his neck refused to
come out; whereupon, for this refusal, Gore shot him dead /
It was said that Gore gave Denby three calls to come out,
telling him if he did not obey the last call he should shoot
him. When the last call was given Denby still stood his
ground, and Gore, without further parley, or without making
any further effort to induce obedience, raised his gun deliber-
ately to his face, took deadly aim at his standing victim, and
with one click of the gun the mangled body sank out of sight,
and only his warm red blood marked the place where he had
stood.
This fiendish murder produced, as it could not help doing,
a tremendous sensation. The slaves were panic-stricken, and
howled with alarm. The atrocity roused my old master, and
he spoke out in reprobation of it. Both he and Col. Lloyd
arraigned Gore for his cruelty; but he, calm and collected, as
though nothing unusual had happened, declared that Denby
had become unmanageable; that he set a dangerous example
to the other slaves, and that unless some such prompt measure
was resorted to there would be an end to all rule and order
on the plantation. That convenient covert for all manner of
villainy and outrage, that cowardly alarm-cry, that the slaves
would “take the place,” was pleaded, just as it had been in
thousands of similar cases. Gore's defense was evidently
considered satisfactory, for he was continued in his office,
without being subjected to a judicial investigation. The
murder was committed in the presence of slaves only, and
they, being slaves, could neither institute a suit nor testify
against the murderer. Mr. Gore lived in St. Michaels, Talbot
Co., Maryland, and I have no reason to doubt, from what I
know to have been the moral sentiment of the place, that he
was as highly esteemed and as much respected as though his
guilty soul had not been stained with innocent blood.
I speak advisedly when I say that killing a slave, or any
colored person, in Talbot Co., Maryland, was not treated as a
crime, either by the courts or the community. Mr. Thomas
58 OTHER MURDERS.
Lanman, ship carpenter of St. Michaels, killed two slaves,
one of whom he butchered with a hatchet, by knocking his
brains out. He used to boast of having committed the awful
and bloody deed. I have heard him do so laughingly, declar-
ing himself a benefactor of his country, and that “when
others would do as much as he had done, they would be rid
of the d d niggers.”
Another notorious fact which I may state was the murder
of a young girl between fifteen and sixteen years of age, by
her mistress, Mrs. Giles Hicks, who lived but a short distance
from Col. Lloyd's. This wicked woman, in the paroxysm of
her wrath, not content at killing her victim, literally mangled
her face, and broke her breast-bone. Wild and infuriated as
she was, she took the precaution to cause the burial of the
girl; but, the facts of the case getting abroad, the remains
were disinterred, and a coroner's jury assembled, who, after
due deliberation, decided that “the girl had come to her death
from severe beating.”
thus hurried out of the world was this, she had been set that
night, and several preceding nights, to mind Mrs. Hicks' baby,
and having fallen into a sound sleep the crying of the baby
did not wake her, as it did its mother. The tardiness of the
girl excited Mrs. Hicks, who, after calling her several times,
seized a piece of fire-wood from the fire-place, and pounded in
her skull and breast-bone till death ensued. I will not say
that this murder most foul produced no sensation. It did
produce a sensation. A warrant was issued for the arrest of
Mrs. Hicks, but incredible to tell, for some reason or other,
that warrant was never served, and she not only escaped con-
dign punishment, but the pain and mortification as well of
being arraigned before a court of justice.
While I am detailing the bloody deeds that took place dur-
ing my stay on Col. Lloyd's plantation, I will briefly narrate
another dark transaction, which occurred about the time of
the murder of Denby.
On the side of the river Wye, opposite from Col. Lloyd's,
The offense for which this girl was


WORTH HALF A CENT TO KILL A NIGGER. 59
there lived a Mr. Beal Bondley, a wealthy slaveholder. In
the direction of his land, and near the shore, there was an
excellent oyster fishing-ground, and to this some of Lloyd's
slaves occasionally resorted in their little canoes at night, with
a view to make up the deficiency of their scanty allowance of
food by the oysters that they could easily get there. Mr.
Bondley took it into his head to regard this as a trespass, and
while an old man slave was engaged in catching a few of the
many millions of oysters that lined the bottom of the creek,
to satisfy his hunger, the rascally Bondley, lying in ambush,
without the slightest warning, discharged the contents of his
musket into the back of the poor old man. As good fortune
would have it, the shot did not prove fatal, and Mr. Bondley
came over the next day to see Col. Lloyd about it. What
happened between them I know not, but there was little said
about it and nothing publicly done. One of the commonest
sayings to which my ears early became accustomed, was that
it was “worth but a half a cent to kill a nigger, and half a
cent to bury one.” While I heard of numerous murders com-
mitted by slaveholders on the eastern shore of Maryland, I
never knew a solitary instance where a slaveholder was either
hung or imprisoned for having murdered a slave. The usual
pretext for such crimes was that the slave had offered resist-
ance. Should a slave, when assaulted, but raise his hand in
self-defense, the white assaulting party was fully justified by
southern law, and southern public opinion in shooting the
slave down, and for this there was no redress.
CHAPTER IX.
CHANGE OF LOCATION.
Miss Lucretia–Her kindness—How it was manifested—“Ike”–A battle
with him—Miss Lucretia's balsam—Bread—How it was obtained—Gleams
of sunlight amidst the general darkness–Suffering from cold–How we
took our meal mush–Preparations for going to Baltimore–Delight at the
change—Cousin Tom's opinion of Baltimore–Arrival there—Kind recep-
tion—Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Auld—Their son Tommy—My relations to them
—My duties—A turning-point in my life.
HAVE nothing cruel or shocking to relate of my own per-
| sonal experience while I remained on Col. Lloyd's planta-
tion, at the home of my old master. An occasional cuff from
Aunt Katy, and a regular whipping from old master, such as
any heedless and mischievous boy might get from his father,
is all that I have to say of this sort. I was not old enough
to work in the field, and there being little else than field-work
to perform, I had much leisure. The most I had to do was to
drive up the cows in the evening, to keep the front-yard clean,
and to perform small errands for my young mistress, Lucretia
Auld. I had reasons for thinking this lady was very kindly
disposed toward me, and although I was not often the object
of her attention, I constantly regarded her as my friend, and
was always glad when it was my privilege to do her a service.
In a family where there was so much that was harsh and
indifferent, the slightest word or look of kindness was of
great value. Miss Lucretia—as we all continued to call her
long after her marriage—had bestowed on me such looks and
words as taught me that she pitied me, if she did not love me.
She sometimes gave me a piece of bread and butter, an article
not set down in our bill of fare, but an extra ration aside from
both Aunt Katy and old master, and given as I believed solely
out of the tender regard she had for me. Then too, I one day

(60)

AUNT KATY. 61
got into the wars with Uncle Abel's son “Ike,” and had got
sadly worsted; the little rascal struck me directly in the fore-
head with a sharp piece of cinder, fused with iron, from the
old blacksmith's forge, which made a cross in my forehead
very plainly to be seen even now. The gash bled very freely,
and I roared and betook myself home. The cold-hearted Aunt
Katy paid no attention either to my wound or my roaring
except to tell me it “served me right; I had no business with
Ike; it would do me good; I would now keep away from ‘dem
Lloyd niggers.” Miss Lucretia in this state of the case came
forward, and called me into the parlor (an extra privilege of
itself), and without using toward me any of the hard and
reproachful epithets of Aunt Katy, quietly acted the good
Samaritan. With her own soft hand she washed the blood
from my head and face, brought her own bottle of balsam, and
with the balsam wetted a nice piece of white linen and bound
up my head. The balsam was not more healing to the wound
in my head, than her kindness was healing to the wounds in
my spirit, induced by the unfeeling words of Aunt Katy. After
this Miss Lucretia was yet more my friend. I felt her to be
such and I have no doubt that the simple act of binding up
my head did much to awaken in her heart an interest in my
welfare. It is quite true that this interest seldom showed
itself in anything more than in giving me a piece of bread
and butter, but this was a great favor on a slave plantation,
and I was the only one of the children to whom such atten-
tion was paid. When very severely pinched with hunger, I
had the habit of singing, which the good lady very soon came
to understand, and when she heard me singing under her
Window, I was very apt to be paid for my music. Thus I had
two friends, both at important points—Masºr Daniel at the
great house, and Miss Lucretia at home. From Masºr Daniel
I got protection from the bigger boys, and from Miss Lucre-
tial got bread by singing when I was hungry, and sympathy
When I was abused by the termagant in the kitchen. For such
friendship I was deeply grateful, and bitter as are my recol-
62 HOW HE LIVED,
lections of slavery, it is a true pleasure to recall any instances
of kindness, any sunbeams of humane treatment, which found
way to my soul, through the iron grating of my house of
bondage. Such beams seem all the brighter from the general
darkness into which they penetrate, and the impression they
make there is vividly distinct.
As before intimated, I received no severe treatment from
the hands of my master, but the insufficiency of both food
and clothing was a serious trial to me, especially from the lack
of clothing. In hottest summer and coldest winter, I was
kept almost in a state of nudity. My only clothing—a little
coarse sack-cloth or tow-linen sort of shirt, scarcely reaching
to my knees, was worn night and day and changed once a
week. In the day time I could protect myself by keeping on
the sunny side of the house, or in stormy weather, in the cor-
ner of the kitchen chimney. But the great difficulty was to
keep warm during the night. The pigs in the pen had leaves,
and the horses in the stable had straw, but the children had
no beds. They lodged anywhere in the ample kitchen. I
slept generally in a little closet, without even a blanket to
cover me. In very cold weather I sometimes got down the
bag in which corn was carried to the mill, and crawled into
that. Sleeping there with my head in and my feet out, I was
partly protected, though never comfortable. My feet have
been so cracked with the frost that the pen with which I am
writing might be laid in the gashes. Our corn meal mush,
which was our only regular if not all-sufficing diet, when suffi-
ciently cooled from the cooking, was placed in a large tray or
trough. This was set down either on the floor of the kitchen,
or out of doors on the ground, and the children were called
like so many pigs, and like so many pigs would come, some
with oyster-shells, some with pieces of shingles, but none
with spoons, and literally devour the mush. He who could
eat fastest got most, and he that was strongest got the best
place, but few left the trough really satisfied. I was the most
unlucky of all, for Aunt Katy had no good feeling for me, and


MISS LUCRETIA. 63
if I pushed the children, or if they told her anything unfavor-
able of me, she always believed the worst, and was sure to
whip me.
As I grew older and more thoughtful, I became more and
more filled with a sense of my wretchedness. The unkindness
of Aunt Katy, the hunger and cold I suffered, and the terrible
reports of wrongs and outrages which came to my ear, together
with what I almost daily witnessed, led me to wish I had
never been born. I used to contrast my condition with that of
the black-birds, in whose wild and sweet songs I fancied them
so happy. Their apparent joy only deepened the shades of
my sorrow. There are thoughtful days in the lives of chil-
dren—at least there were in mine—when they grapple with
all the great primary subjects of knowledge, and reach in a
moment conclusions which no subsequent experience can
shake. I was just as well aware of the unjust, unnatural, and
murderous character of slavery, when nine years old, as I am
now. Without any appeal to books, to laws, or to authorities
of any kind, to regard God as “Our Father,” condemned
slavery as a crime.
I was in this unhappy state when I received from Miss
Lucretia the joyful intelligence that my old master had deter-
mined to let me go to Baltimore to live with Mr. Hugh Auld,
a brother to Mr. Thomas Auld, Miss Lucretia's husband. I
shall never forget the ecstacy with which I received this in-
formation, three days before the time set for my departure.
They were the three happiest days I had ever known. I spent
the largest part of them in the creek, washing off the planta-
tion scurf, and thus preparing for my new home. Miss Lucre-
tia took a lively interest in getting me ready. She told me I
*st get all the dead skin off my feet and knees, for the peo-
ple in Baltimore were very cleanly, and would laugh at me if I
looked dirty; and besides she was intending to give me a pair
º trowsers, but which I could not put on unless I got all the
dirt off. This was a warning which I was bound to heed, for
the * owning and wearing a pair of trowsers was
64 HE Is SENT To BALTIMORE.
great indeed. So I went at it in good earnest, working for
the first time in my life in the hope of reward. I was greatly
excited, and could hardly consent to sleep lest I should be left.
The ties that ordinarily bind children to their homes, had no
existence in my case, and in thinking of a home elsewhere, I
was confident of finding none that I should relish less than
the one I was leaving. If I should meet with hardship, hun-
ger, and nakedness, I had known them all before, and I could
endure them elsewhere, especially in Baltimore, for I had
something of the feeling about that city that 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 in speech (he
stuttered immoderately), he had inspired me with that desire
by his eloquent descriptions of the place. Tom was some-
times cabin-boy on board the sloop “Sally Lloyd’ (which
Capt. Thomas Auld commanded), and when he came home
from Baltimore he was always a sort of hero among us, at
least till his trip to Baltimore was forgotten. I could never
tell him anything, or point out anything that struck me as
beautiful or powerful, but that he had seen something in Balti-
more far surpassing it. Even the “great house,” with all its
pictures within, and pillars without, he had the hardihood to
say, “was nothing to Baltimore.” He bought a trumpet
(worth sixpence) and brought it home; told what he had seen
in the windows of the 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; of the ringing of the bells, and of many other
things which roused my curiosity very much, and indeed which
brightened 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


HIS KIND RECEPTION. 65
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 give to it, or to any place like it. After taking this last
view, I quitted the quarter-deck, made my way to the bow of
the boat, and spent the remainder of the day in looking ahead:
interesting myself in what was in the distance. rather than in
what was nearby, or behind. The vessels sweeping along the
bay were objects full of interest to me. 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, stopping there
not long enough to admit of 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 trav-
elers at the first view of Rome. The dome of the State house
was especially imposing, and surpassed in grandeur the appear-
ance of the “great house.” I had left behind. So the great
world was opening upon me, 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
a large flock of sheep, for the Baltimore market; and after
assisting in driving them to the slaughter house of Mr. Cur-
tiss, on Loudon Slater's hill, I was conducted by Rich—one of
the hands belonging to the sloop—to my new home on Alli-
ciana street, near Gardiner's ship-yard, on Fell's point. Mr.
and Mrs. Hugh Auld, my new master and mistress, were both
at home and met me at the door with their rosy-checked 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
66 TURNING POINT IN HIS LIFE.
new mistress. Her face was lighted with the kindliest emo-
tions; 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. 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.
With these little ceremonies I was initiated into my new home,
and entered upon my peculiar duties, then unconscious of a
cloud to dim its broad 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 fully fastened
upon mc ; before my young spirit had been crushed under the
iron control of the slave-driver, I might have continued in
slavery until emancipated by the war.




CHAPTER X. \
LEARNING TO READ.
City annoyances–Plantation regrets—My mistress-Her history-Her kind-
ness—My master–His sourness-My comforts—Increased sensitiveness-
My occupation—Learning to read_Baneful effects of slaveholding on my
dear, good mistress—Mr. Hugh forbids Mrs. Sophia to teach me further
—Clouds gather on my bright prospects-Master Auld's exposition of the
Philosophy of Slavery–City slaves-Country slaves–Contrasts—Excep-
tions Mr. Hamilton's two slaves–Mrs. Hamilton's cruel treatment of
them Piteous aspect presented by them—No power to come between the
slave and slaveholder. -
STABLISHED in my new home in Baltimore, I was not
very long in perceiving that in picturing to myself what
was to be my life there, my imagination had painted only the
bright side; and that the reality had its dark shades as well
as its light ones. The open country which had been so much
to me, was all shut out. Walled in on every side by towering
brick buildings, the heat of the summer was intolerable to me,
and the hard brick pavements almost blistered my feet. If I
ventured out on to the streets, new and strange objects glared
upon me at every step, and startling sounds greeted my ears
from all directions. My country eyes and ears were confused
and bewildered. Troops of hostile boys pounced upon me at
every corner. They chased me, and called me “Eastern–Shore
man,” till really I almost wished myself back on the Eastern
Shore. My new mistress happily proved to be all she had
seemed, and in her presence I easily forgot all outside annoy.
ances. Mrs. Sophia was naturally of an excellent disposition
—kind, gentle, and cheerful. The supercilious contempt for
the rights and feelings of others, and the petulence and bad
humor which generally characterized slaveholding ladies, were
all quite absent from her manner and bearing toward me.
(67)
68 HIS NEW MISTRESS.
She had never been a slaveholder—a thing then quite unusual at
the South—but had 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 could change a saint into a sinner, and an
angel into a demon. I hardly knew how to behave towards
“Miss Sopha,” as I used to call Mrs. Hugh Auld. I could not
approach her even as I had formerly approached Mrs. Thomas
Auld. Why should I hang down my head, and speak with
bated breath, when there was no pride to scorn ºne, no cold-
ness to repel me, and no hatred to inspire me with fear? I
therefore soon came to regard her as something more akin
to a mother than a slaveholding mistress. So far from deem-
ing it impudent in a slave to look her straight in the face, she
seemed ever to say, “look up, child; don't be afraid.” The
sailors belonging to the sloop esteemed it a great privilege to
be the bearers of parcels or messages to her, for whenever
they came, they were sure of a most kind and pleasant recep-
tion. If little Thomas was her son, and her most dearly loved
child, she made me something like his half-brother in her
affections. If dear Tommy was exalted to a place on his
mother's knee, “Feddy” was honored by a place at the mother's
side. Nor did the slave-boy lack the caressing strokes of her
gentle hand, soothing him into the consciousness that, though
motherless, he was not friendless. Mrs. Auld was not only kind-
hearted, but remarkably pious; frequent in her attendance of
public worship, much given to reading the Bible, and to chant-
a different character. He cared very little about religion;
knew more of the world and was more a part of the world,
than his wife. He set out doubtless to be, as the world goes,
a respectable man, and to get on by becoming a successful
ship-builder, in that city of ship-building. This was his ambi-
tion, and it fully occupied him. I was of course of very little
consequence to him, and when he smiled upon me, as he
sometimes did, the smile was borrowed from his lovely wife,
ing hymns of praise when alone. Mr. Hugh was altogether



HER KIND TREATMENT. 69
and like all borrowed light, was transient, and vanished with
the source whence it was derived. Though I must in truth
characterize Master Hugh as a sour man of forbidding appear-
ance, it is due to him to acknowledge that he was never cruel
to me, according to the notion of cruelty in Maryland. Dur-
ing the first year or two, he left me almost exclusively to the
management of his wife. She was my law-giver. In hands
so tender as hers, and in the absence of the cruelties of the
plantation, I became both physically and mentally much more
sensitive, and a frown from my mistress caused me far more
suffering than had Aunt Katy's hardest cuffs. Instead of the
cold, damp floor of my old master's kitchen, I was on carpets;
for the corn bag in winter, I had a good straw bed, well fur-
nished with covers; for the coarse corn meal in the morning,
I had good bread and mush occasionally; for my old tow-linen
shirt, I had good clean clothes. I was really well off. My
employment was to run of errands, and to take care of
Tommy; to prevent his getting in the way of carriages, and
to keep him out of harm's way generally. So for a time every
thing went well. I say for a time, because the fatal poison of
irresponsible power, and the natural influence of slave cus-
toms, were not very long in making their impression on the
gentle and loving disposition of my excellent mistress. She
regarded me at first as a child, like any other. This was the
natural and spontaneous thought; afterwards, when she came
to consider me as property, our relations to each other were
changed, but a nature so noble as hers could not instantly
become perverted, and it took several years before the sweet-
ness of her temper was wholly lost.
The frequent hearing of my mistress reading the Bible
aloud, for she often read aloud when her husband was absent,
awakened my curiosity in respect to this mystery of reading,
and roused in me the desire to learn. Up to this time I had
known nothing whatever of this wonderful art, and my igno-
rance and inexperience of what it could do for me, as well as
my conſidence in my mistress, emboldened me to ask her to
70 - FORBIDDEN TO TEACH HIM.
teach me to read. With an unconsciousness and inexperience
equal to my own, she readily consented, and in an incredibly
short time, by her kind assistance, I had mastered the alpha-
bet and could spell words of three or four letters. My mis-
tress seemed almost as proud of my progress as if I had been
her own child, and supposing that her husband would be as
well pleased, she made no secret of what she was doing for
me. Indeed, she exultingly told him of the aptness of her
pupil, and of her intention to persevere in teaching me, as
she felt her duty to do, at least to read the Bible. And here
arose the first dark cloud over my Baltimore prospects, the
precursor of chilling blasts and drenching storms. Master
Hugh was astounded beyond measure, and probably for the
first time proceeded to unfold to his wife the true philosophy
of the slave system, and the peculiar rules necessary in the
nature of the case to be observed in the management of
human chattels. Of course he forbade her to give me any
further instruction, telling her in the first place that to do so
was unlawful, as it was also unsafe; “for,” said he, “if you
give a nigger an inch he will take an ell. Learning will spoil
the best nigger in the world. If he learns to read the Bible
it will forever unfit him to be a slave. He should know noth-
ing but the will of his master, and learn to obey it. As to
himself, learning will do him no good, but a great deal of
harm, making him disconsolate and unhappy. If you teach
him how to read, he'll want to know how to write, and this
accomplished, he'll be running away with himself.” Such
was the tenor of Master Hugh's oracular exposition; and it
must be confessed that he very clearly comprehended the
nature and the requirements of the relation of master and
slave. His discourse was the first decidedly anti-slavery lec-
ture to which it had been my lot to listen. Mrs. Auld evi-
dently felt the force of what he said, and like an obedient
wife, began to shape her course in the direction indicated by
him. The effect of his words on me was neither slight nor
transitory. His iron sentences, cold and harsh, sunk like


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THE EFFECT ON HIM. 71
heavyweights deep into my heart, and stirred up within me
a rebellion not soon to be allayed. This was a new and
special revelation, dispelling a painful mystery against which
my youthful understanding had struggled, and struggled in
vain, to wit, the white man's power to perpetuate the enslave-
ment of the black man. “Very well,” thought I. “Knowl-
edge unfits a child to be a slave.” I instinctively assented to
the proposition, and from that moment I understood the
direct pathway from slavery to freedom. It was just what I
needed, and it came to me at a time and from a source whence
I least expected it. Of course I was greatly saddened at the
thought of losing the assistance of my kind mistress, but the
information so instantly derived to some extent compensated
me for the loss I had sustained in this direction. Wise as
Mr. Auld was, he underrated my comprehension, and had
little idea of the use to which I was capable of putting the
impressive lesson he was giving to his wife. He wanted me
to be a slave; I had already voted against that on the home
plantation of Col. Lloyd. That which he most loved I most
hated; and the very determination which he expressed to
keep me in ignorance only rendered me the more resolute to
seek intelligence. In learning to read, therefore, I am not
sure that I do not owe quite as much to the opposition of my
master as to the kindly assistance of my amiable mistress.
I acknowledge the benefit rendered me by the one, and by
the other, believing that but for my mistress I might have
grown up in ignorance.
4 *
CHAPTER XI.
GROWING IN KNOWLEDGE.
My mistress–Her slaveholding duties—Their effects on her originally noble
nature–The conflict in her mind–She opposes my learning to read—Too
late—She had given me the “inch,” I was resolved to take the “ell”—
How I pursued my study to read–My tutors—What progress I made—
Slavery—What I heard said about it—Thirteen years old–Columbian
orator–Dialogue-Speeches—Sheridan–Pitt–Lords Chatham and Fox–
Knowledge increasing–Liberty–Singing—Sadness—Unhappiness of Mrs.
Sophia–My hatred of slavery–One Upas tree overshadows us all.
LIVED in the family of Mr. Auld, at Baltimore, seven
| years, during which time, as the almanac makers say of
the weather, my condition was variable. The most interest-
ing feature of my history here, was my learning to read and
write under somewhat marked disadvantages. In attaining
this knowledge I was compelled to resort to indirections by
no means congenial to my nature, and which were really
humiliating to my sense of candor and uprightness. My
mistress, checked in her benevolent designs toward me, not
only ceased instructing me herself, but set her face as a flint
against my learning to read by any means. It is due to her
to say, however, that she did not adopt this course in all its
stringency at first. She either thought it unnecessary, or she
lacked the depravity needed to make herself forget at once
my human nature. She was, as I have said, naturally a kind
and tender-hearted woman, and in the humanity of her heart
and the simplicity of her mind, she set out, when I first went
to live with her, to treat me as she supposed one human being
ought to treat another.
Nature never intended that men and women should be either
slaves or slaveholders, and nothing but rigid training long
persisted in, can perfect the character of the one or the other.

(72)

HOUSEHOLD HAPPINESS DESTROYED. 73
Mrs. Auld was singularly deficient in the qualities of a slave-
holder. It was no easy matter for her to think or to feel that
the curly-headed boy, who stood by her side, and even leaned
on her lap, who was loved by little Tommy, and who loved lit-
tle Tommy in turn, sustained to her only the relation of
a chattel. I was more than that ; she felt me to be more than
that. I could talk and sing; I could laugh and weep; I could
reason and remember; I could love and hate. I was human, and
she, dear lady, knew and felt me to be so. How could she then
treat me as a brute without a mighty struggle with all the
noblest powers of her soul. That struggle came, and the will and
power of the husband was victorious. Her noble soul was over-
come, and he who wrought the wrong was injured in the fall no
less than the rest of the household. When I went into that
household, it was the abode of happiness and contentment.
The wife and mistress there was a model of affection and
tenderness. Her fervent piety and watchful uprightness made
it impossible to see her without thinking and feeling “that
woman is a Christian.” There was no sorrow nor suffering
for which she had not a tear, and there was no innocent joy
for which she had not a smile. She had bread for the hungry,
clothes for the naked, and comfort for every mourner who came
within her reach. But slavery soon proved its ability to divest
her of these excellent qualities, and her home of its early
happiness. Conscience cannot stand much violence. Once
thoroughly injured, who is he who can repair the damage? If
it be broken toward the slave on Sunday, it will be toward the
master on Monday. It cannot long endure such shocks. It
must stand unharmed, or it does not stand at all. As my con-
dition in the family waxed bad, that of the family waxed no
better. The first step in the wrong direction was the violence
done to nature and to conscience, in arresting the benevolence
that would have enlightened my young mind. In ceasing to
instruct me, my mistress had to seek to justify herself to her.
self, and once consenting to take sides in such a debate, she
was compelled to hold her position. One needs little knowl-
74 HIS PLAYMATES.
edge of moral philosophy to see where she inevitably landed.
She finally became even more violent in her opposition to my
learning to read than was Mr. Auld himself. Nothing now
appeared to make her more angry than seeing me, seated in
some nook or corner, quietly reading a book or newspaper.
She would rush at me with the utmost fury, and snatch the
book or paper from my hand, with something of the wrath
and consternation which a traitor might be supposed to feel
on being discovered in a plot by some dangerous spy. The
conviction once thoroughly established in her mind, that edu-
cation and slavery were incompatible with each other, I was
most narrowly watched in all my movements. If I remained
in a separate room from the family for any considerable length
of time, I was sure to be suspected of having a book, and was
at once called to give an account of myself. But this was
too late: the first and never-to-be-retraced step had been
taken. Teaching me the alphabet had been the “inch” given,
I was now waiting only for the opportunity to “take the ell.”
Filled with the determination to learn to read at any cost, I
hit upon many expedients to accomplish that much desired
end. The plan which I mainly adopted, and the one which
was the most successful, was that of using my young white
playmates, with whom I met on the streets, as teachers. I used
to carry almost constantly a copy of Webster's spelling-book
in my pocket, and when sent of errands, or when play-time
was allowed me, I would step aside with my young friends and
take a lesson in spelling. I am greatly indebted to these
boys–Gustavus Dorgan, Joseph Bailey, Charles Farity, and
William Cosdry. -
Although slavery was a delicate subject, and very cautiously
talked about among grown up people in Maryland, 1 frequently
talked about it, and that very freely, with the white boys. I
would sometimes say to them, while seated on a curbstone or
a cellar door, “I wish I could be free, as you will be when you
get to be men.” “You will be free, you know, as soon as you
are twenty-one, and can go where you like, but I am a slave



HE IS THIRTEEN YEARS OLD. 75
for life. Have I not as good a right to be free as you have 7"
Words like these, I observed, always troubled them; and I
had no small satisfaction in drawing out from them, as I
occasionally did, that fresh and bitter condemnation of slavery
which ever springs from nature unseared and unperverted.
of all conscience, let me have those to deal with, which have
not been seared and bewildered with the cares and perplexities
of life. I do not remember ever to have met with a boy while
I was in slavery, who defended the system, but I do remem-
ber many times, when I was consoled by them, and by them
encouraged to hope that something would yet occur by
which I would be made free. Over and over again, they have
told me that “they believed I had as good a right to be free
as they had,” and that “they did not believe God ever made
any one to be a slave.” It is easily seen that such little con-
versations with my play-fellows had no tendency to weaken
my love of liberty, nor to render me contented as a slave.
When I was about thirteen years old, and had succeeded in
learning to read, every increase of knowledge, especially any-
thing respecting the free states, was an additional weight to
the almost intolerable burden of my thought—“I am a slave
for life.” To my bondage I could see no end. It was a ter-
rible reality, and I shall never be able to tell how sadly that
thought chafed my young spirit. Fortunately, or unfortu-
nately, I had earned a little money in blacking boots for some
gentlemen, with which I purchased of Mr. Knight, on Thames
street, what was then a very popular school book, viz., “The
Columbian Orator,” for which I paid fifty cents. I was led
to buy this book by hearing some little boys say they were
going to learn some pieces out of it for the exhibition. This
volume was indeed a rich treasure, and every opportunity
afforded me, for a time, was spent in diligently perusing it.
Among much other interesting matter, that which I read
again and again with unflagging satisfaction was a short
dialogue between a master and his slave. The slave is rep-
resented as having been recaptured in a second attempt to

76 BOOKS HE READ.
run away; and the master opens the dialogue with an upbraid-
ing speech, charging the slave with ingratitude, and demand-
ing to know what he has to say in his own defense. Thus
upbraided and thus called upon to reply, the slave rejoins
that he knows how little anything that he can say will avail,
seeing that he is completely in the hands of his owner; and
with noble resolution, calmly says, “I submit to my fate.”
Touched by the slave's answer, the master insists upon his
further speaking, and recapitulates the many acts of kindness
which he has performed toward the slave, and tells him he is
permitted to speak for himself. Thus invited, the quondam
slave made a spirited defense of himself, and thereafter the
whole argument for and against slavery is brought out. The
master was vanquished at every turn in the argument, and
appreciating the fact he generously and meekly emancipates
the slave, with his best wishes for his prosperity. It is un-
necessary to say that a dialogue with such an origin and such
an end, read by me when every nerve of my being was in
revolt at my own condition as a slave, affected me most power-
fully. I could not help feeling that the day might yet come,
when the well-directed answers made by the slave to the mas-
ter, in this instance, would find a counterpart in my own
experience. This, however, was not all the fanaticism which
I found in the Columbian Orator. I met there one of Sheri-
dan’s mighty speeches, on the subject of Catholic Emancipa-
tion, Lord Chatham's speech on the American War, and
speeches by the great William Pitt, and by Fox. These
were all choice documents to me, and I read them over and
over again, with an interest ever increasing, because it was
ever gaining in intelligence; for the more I read them the
better I understood them. The reading of these speeches
added much to my limited stock of language, and enabled me
to give tongue to many interesting thoughts which had often
ſlashed through my mind and died away for want of words in
which to give them utterance. The mighty power and heart-
searching directness of truth penetrating the heart of a slave-

MASTER’s PREDICTIONS VERIFIED. 77
holder, compelling him to yield up his earthly interests to the
claims of eternal justice, were finely illustrated in the dia-
logue, and from the speeches of Sheridan I got *. bold and
powerful denunciation of oppression and a most brilliant win-
dication of the rights of man. Here was indeed a noble
acquisition. If I had ever wavered under the consideration
that the Almighty, in some way, had ordained slavery and
willed my enslavement for his own glory, I wavered no longer.
I had now penetrated to the secret of all slavery and all ºp.
pression, and had ascertained their true foundation to be in
the pride, the power, and the avarice of man. With 8. book
in my hand so redolent of the principles of liberty, with a
perception of my own human nature and the facts of my past
and present experience, I was equal to a contest with the
religious advocates of slavery, whether white or black, for
blindness in this matter was not confined to the white people.
I have met many good religious colored people at the south,
who were under the delusion that God required them to sub-
mit to slavery and to wear their chains with meekness and
humility. I could entertain no such nonsense as this, and I
quite lost my patience when I found a colored man weak
enough to believe such stuff. Nevertheless, eager as I was to
partake of the tree of knowledge, its fruits were bitter as
well as sweet. “Slaveholders,” thought I, “are only a band
of successful robbers, who, leaving their own homes, went
into Africa for the purpose of stealing and reducing my people
to slavery.” I loathed them as the meanest and the most
Wicked of men. And as I read, behold the very discontent
so graphically predicted by Master Hugh had already come
upon me. I was no longer the light-hearted, gleesome boy,
full of mirth and play, as when I landed in Baltimore. Light
had penetrated the moral dungeon where I had lain, and I
saw the bloody whip for my back, and the iron chain for my
feet, and my good kind master, he was the author of my situ
ation. The revelation haunted me, stung me, and made me
gloomy and miserable. As I writhed under the sting and tor-
78 REFLECTIONS ON SLAVERY.
ment of this knowledge I almost envied my fellow slaves their
stupid indifference. It opened my eyes to the horrible pit, and
revealed the teeth of the frightful dragon that was ready to
pounce upon me; but alas, it opened no way for my escape. I
wished myself a beast, a bird, anything rather than a slave. I
was wretched and gloomy beyond my ability to describe. This
everlasting thinking distressed and tormented me; and yet
there was no getting rid of this subject of my thoughts. Lib-
erty, as the inestimable birthright of every man, converted
every object into an asserter of this right. I heard it in every
sound, and saw it in every object. It was ever present to
torment me with a sense of my wretchedness. The more
beautiful and charming were the smiles of nature, the more
horrible and desolate was my condition. I saw nothing with-
out seeing it, and I heard nothing without hearing it. I do
not exaggerate when I say it looked at me in every star, it
smiled in every calm, breathed in every wind, and moved in
every storm. I have no doubt that my state of mind had
something to do with the change in treatment which my mis-
tress adopted towards me. I can easily believe that my
leaden, downcast, and disconsolate look was very offensive to
her. Poor lady! She did not understand my trouble, and I
could not tell her. Could I have made her acquainted with
the real state of my mind and given her the reasons therefor,
it might have been well for both of us. As it was, her abuse
fell upon me like the blows of the false prophet upon his ass;
she did not know that an angel stood in the way. Nature
made us friends, but slavery had made us enemies. My inter-
ests were in a direction opposite to hers, and we both had our
private thoughts and plans. She aimed to keep me ignorant,
and I resolved to know, although knowledge only increased
my misery. My feelings were not the result of any marked
cruelty in the treatment I received; they sprung from the
consideration of my being a slave at all. It was slavery, not
its mere incidents I hated. I had been cheated. I saw
through the attempt to keep me in ignorance. I saw that



FOOD AND CLOTHING NOT ALL. 79
slaveholders would have gladly made me believe that they
were merely acting under the authority of God in making a
slave of me and in making slaves of others, and I felt to
them as to robbers and deceivers. The feeding and clothing
me well could not atone for taking my liberty from me. The
smiles of my mistress could not remove the deep sorrow that
dwelt in my young bosom. Indeed, these came in time but
to deepen my sorrow. She had changed, and the reader will
see that I had changed too. We were both victims to the
same overshadowing evil, she as mistress, I as slave. I
will not censure her harshly.
CHAPTER XII.
RELIGIOUS NATURE AWAKENED.
Abolitionists spoken of-Eagerness to know the meaning of word—Con-
sults the dictionary—Incendiary information—The enigma solved—“Nat
Turner” insurrection–Cholera—Religion—Methodist minister—Religious
impressions—Father Lawson–His character and occupation—His influ-
ence over me—Our mutual attachment–New hopes and aspirations–-
Heavenly light—Two Irishmen on wharf–Conversation with them–
Learning to write—My aims.
N the unhappy state of mind described in the foregoing
chapter, regretting my very existence because doomed
to a life of bondage, so goaded and so wretched as to be
even tempted at times to take my own life, I was most
keenly sensitive to know any and everything possible that had
any relation to the subject of slavery. I was all ears, all
eyes, whenever the words slave or slavery dropped from the
lips of any white person, and the occasions became more and
more frequent when these words became leading ones in high,
social debate at our house. Very often I would overhear
Master Hugh, or some of his company, speak with much
warmth of the “ abolitionists.” Who or what the abolitionists
were, I was totally ignorant. I found, however, that whoever
or whatever they might be, they were most cordially hated
and abused by slaveholders of every grade. I very soon dis-
covered too, that slavery was, in some sort, under considera-
tion whenever the abolitionists were alluded to. This made
the term a very interesting one to me. If a slave had made
good his escape from slavery, it was generally alleged that he
had been persuaded and assisted to do so by the abolitionists.
If a slave killed his master, or struck down his overseer, or
set fire to his master's dwelling, or committed any violence or
crime, out of the common way, it was certain to be said that

(80)

THE BALTIMORE AMERICAN. 81
such a crime was the legitimate fruits of the abolition move-
ment. Hearing such charges often repeated, I, naturally
enough, received the impression that abolition—whatever
else it might be—was not unfriendly to the slave, nor very
friendly to the slaveholder. I therefore set about finding out,
if possible, who and what the abolitionists were, and why they
were so obnoxious to the slaveholders. The dictionary offered
me very little help. It taught me that abolition was “the act
of abolishing; ” but it left me in ignorance at the very point
where I most wanted information, and that was, as to the
thing to be abolished. A city newspaper—the “Baltimore
American”—gave me the incendiary information denied me by
the dictionary. In its columns I found that on a certain day
a vast number of petitions and memorials had been presented
to Congress, praying for the abolition of slavery in the Dis-
trict of Columbia, and for the abolition of the slave trade
between the States of the Union. This was enough. The
vindictive bitterness, the marked caution, the studied reserve,
and the ambiguity practiced by our white folks when alluding
to this subject, was now fully explained. Ever after that,
when I heard the word abolition, I felt the matter one of a
personal concern, and I drew near to listen whenever I could
do so, without seeming too solicitous and prying. There was
HOPE in those words. Ever and anon too, I could see some
terrible denunciation of slavery in our papers, copied from
abolition papers at the North-and the injustice of such
denunciation commented on. These I read with avidity. I
had a deep satisfaction in the thought that the rascality of
slaveholders was not concealed from the eyes of the world,
and that I was not alone in abhorring the cruelty and brutality
of slavery. A still deeper train of thought was stirred. I
saw that there was fear as well as rage in the manner of
Speaking of the abolitionists, and from this I inferred that
they must have some power in the country, and I felt that they
might perhaps succeed in their designs. When I met with a
slave to whom I deemed it safe to talk on the subject, I would
82 ABOLITIONISTS.
impart to him so much of the mystery as I had been able to
penetrate. Thus the light of this grand movement broke in
upon my mind by degrees; and I must say that ignorant as I
was of the philosophy of that movement, I believed in it from
the first, and I believed in it, partly, because I saw that it
alarmed the consciences of the slaveholders. The insurrec-
tion of Nat. Turner had been quelled, but the alarm and ter-
ror which it occasioned had not subsided. The cholera was
then on its way to this country, and I remember thinking that
God was angry with the white people because of their slave-
holding wickedness, and therefore his judgments were abroad
in the land. Of course it was impossible for me not to hope
much for the abolition movement when I saw it supported by
the Almighty, and armed with DEATH.
Previously to my contemplation of the anti-slavery move-
ment and its probable results, my mind had been seriously
awakened to the subject of religion. I was not more than
thirteen years old, when in my loneliness and destitution I
longed for some one to whom I could go, as to a father and
protector. The preaching of a white Methodist minister,
named Hanson, was the means of causing me to feel that in
God I had such a friend. He thought that all men, great and
small, bond and free, were sinners in the sight of God: that
they were by nature rebels against his government; and that
they must repent of their sins, and be reconciled to God
through Christ. I cannot say that I had a very distinct notion
of what was required of me, but one thing I did know well:
I was wretched and had no means of making myself other-
wise. I consulted a good colored man named Charles Law-
son, and in tones of holy affection he told me to pray, and to
“cast all my care upon God.” This I sought to do; and
though for weeks I was a poor, broken-hearted mourner, trav-
eling through doubts and fears, I finally found my burden
lightened, and my heart relieved. I loved all mankind, slave-
holders not excepted, though I abhorred slavery more than
ever. I saw the world in a new light, and my great concern




INCENDIARY INFORMATION. 83
was to have everybody converted. My desire to learn in-
creased, and especially did I want a thorough acquaintance
with the contents of the Bible. I have gathered scattered
pages of the Bible from the filthy street-gutters, and washed
and dried them, that in moments of leisure I might get a
word or two of wisdom from them. While thus religiously
seeking knowledge, I became acquainted with a good old col-
ored man named Lawson. This man not only prayed three
times a day, but he prayed as he walked through the streets,
at his work, on his dray—everywhere. His life was a life of
prayer, and his words when he spoke to any one, were about a
better world. Uncle Lawson lived near Master Hugh's house,
and becoming deeply attached to him, I went often with him
to prayer-meeting, and spent much of my leisure time with
him on Sunday. The old man could read a little, and I was a
great help to him in making out the hard words, for I was a
better reader than he. I could teach him “the letter,” but he
could teach me “the spirit,” and refreshing times we had
together, in singing and praying. These meetings went on
for a long time without the knowledge of Master Hugh or my
mistress. Both knew, however, that I had become religious,
and seemed to respect my conscientious piety. My mistress
was still a professor of religion, and belonged to class. Her
leader was no less a person than Rev. Beverly Waugh, the
presiding elder, and afterwards one of the bishops of the
Methodist Episcopal church.
In view of the cares and anxieties incident to the life she
was leading, and especially in view of the separation from
religious associations to which she was subjected, my mistress
had, as I have before stated, become lukewarm, and needed
to be looked up by her leader. This often brought Mr. Waugh
to our house, and gave me an opportunity to hear him exhort
and pray. But my chief instructor in religious matters was
Uncle Lawson. He was my spiritual father and I loved him
intensely, and was at his house every chance I could get.
This pleasure, however, was not long unquestioned. Master

84 FATHER LAWSON.
Hugh became averse to our intimacy, and threatened to whip
me if I ever went there again. I now felt myself persecuted
by a wicked man, and I would go. The good old man had
told me that the “Lord had a great work for me to do,” and
I must prepare to do it; that he had been shown that I must
preach the gospel. His words made a very deep impression
upon me, and I verily felt that some such work was before
me, though I could not see how I could ever engage in its
performance. “The good Lord would bring it to pass in his
own good time,” he said, and that I must go on reading and
studying the scriptures. This advice and these suggestions
were not without their influence on my character and destiny.
He fanned my already intense love of knowledge into a flame
by assuring me that I was to be a useful man in the world.
When I would say to him, “How can these things be? and
what can I do?” his simple reply was, “ Trust in the Lord.
When I would tell him, “I am a slave, and a slave for life,
how can I do anything?” he would quietly answer, “The
Lord can make you free, my dear; all things are posºe
with Him; only have faith in God. “Ask, and it shall be
given you.” If you want liberty, ask the Lord for it in FAITH,
and he will give it to you.”
Thus assured and thus cheered on under the inspiration of
hope, I worked and prayed with a light heart, believing that
my life was under the guidance of a wisdom higher than my
own. With all other blessings sought at the mercy seat, I
always prayed that God would, of his great mercy and in his
own good time, deliver me from my bondage.
I went, one day, on the wharf of Mr. Waters, and seeing
two Irishmen unloading a scow of stone or ballast, I went on
board unasked, and helped them. When we had finished the
work one of the men came to me, aside, and asked me a
number of questions, and among them if I were a slave I
told him “I was a slave for life.” The good Irishman gave a
shrug, and seemed deeply affected. He said it was a pity so
fine a little fellow as I was should be a slave for life. They
both had much to say about the matter, and expressed the
-

LEARNING TO WRITE. 85
deepest sympathy with me, and the most decided hatred of
slavery. They went so far as to tell me that I ought to run
away and go to the north ; that I should find friends there,
and that I should then be as free as anybody. I pretended
not to be interested in what they said, for I feared they might
be treacherous. White men were not unfrequently known to
encourage slaves to escape, and then, to get the reward, they
would kidnap them and return them to their masters. While
I mainly inclined to the notion that these men were honest
and meant me no ill, I feared it might be otherwise. I never-
theless remembered their words and their advice, and looked
forward to an escape to the north as a possible means of
gaining the liberty for which my heart panted. It was not
my enslavement at the then present time which most affected
me; the being a slave for life was the saddest thought. I
was too young to think of running away immediately; besides,
I wished to learn to write before going, as I might have occa-
sion to write my own pass. I now not only had the hope of
freedom, but a foreshadowing of the means by which I might
some day gain that inestimable boon. Meanwhile I resolved
to add to my educational attainments the art of writing.
After this manner I began to learn to write. I was much
in the ship-yard–Master Hugh's, and that of Durgan &
Bailey, and I observed that the carpenters, after hewing and
getting ready a piece of timber to use, wrote on it the initials
of the name of that part of the ship for which it was intended.
When, for instance, a piece of timber was ready for the star-
board side, it was marked with a capital “S” A piece for
the larboard side was marked “L.;” larboard forward was
marked “L. F.;” larboard aft was marked “L.A.;” star-
board aft, “S. A.;” and starboard forward “S. F.” I soon
learned these letters, and for what they were placed on the
timbers.
My work now was to keep fire under the steam-box, and to
Yºch the ship-yard while the carpenters had gone to dinner.
This interval gave me a fine opportunity for copying the let-
ters named. I soon astonished myself with the ease with
86 HIS PROGRESS.
which I made the letters, and the thought was soon present,
“If I can make four letters I can make more.” Having
made these readily and easily, when I met boys about the
Bethel church or on any of our play-grounds, I entered the lists
with them in the art of writing, and would make the letters
which I had been so fortunate as to learn, and ask them to
“beat that if they could.” With play-mates for my teachers,
fences and pavements for my copy-books, and chalk for my
pen and ink, I learned to write. I however adopted, after-
ward, various methods for improving my hand. The most
successful was copying the italics in Webster's spelling-book
until I could make them all without looking on the book.
By this time my little “Master Tommy” had grown to be a
big boy, and had written over a number of copy-books and
brought them home. They had been shown to the neighbors,
had elicited due praise, and had been laid carefully away.
Spending parts of my time both at the ship-yard and the
house, I was often the lone keeper of the latter as of the
former. When my mistress left me in charge of the house I
had a grand time. I got Master Tommy's copy-books and a
pen and ink, and in the ample spaces between the lines I
wrote other lines as nearly like his as possible. The process
was a tedious one, and I ran the risk of getting a flogging
for marking the highly-prized copy-books of the oldest son.
In addition to these opportunities, sleeping as I did in the
kitchen loft, a room seldom visited by any of the family, I
contrived to get a flour-barrel up there and a chair, and upon
the head of that barrel I have written, or endeavored to write,
copying from the Bible and the Methodist hymn-book, and
other books which I had accumulated, till late at night, and
when all the family were in bed and asleep. I was supported
in my endeavors by renewed advice and by holy promises
from the good father Lawson, with whom I continued to meet
and pray and read the Scriptures. Although Master Hugh
was aware of these meetings, I must say for his credit that
he never executed his threats to whip me for having thus
innocently employed my leisure time. -




CHAPTER XIII.
THE VICISSITUDES OF SLAVE LIFE.
Death of old Master's son Richard, speedily followed by that of old Mas-
ter—Valuation and division of all the property, including the slaves—
Sent for to come to Hillsborough to be valued and divided–Sad prospects
and grief–Parting—Slaves have no voice in deciding their own destinies
—General dread of falling into Master Andrew's hands—His drunken-
ness—Good fortune in falling to Miss Lucretia–She allows my return to
Baltimore–Joy at Master Hugh's—Death of Miss Lucretia–Master
Thomas Auld's second marriage—The new wife unlike the old–Again
removed from Master Hugh's—Reasons for regret–Plan of escape.
MUST now ask the reader to go back with me a little in
point of time, in my humble story, and notice another
circumstance that entered into my slavery experience, and
which, doubtless, has had a share in deepening my horror of
slavery, and my hostility toward those men and measures that
practically uphold the slave system.
It has already been observed that though I was, after my
removal from Col. Lloyd's plantation, in form the slave of
Master Hugh Auld, I was in fact and in law the slave of my
old master, Capt. Anthony. Very well. In a very short
time after I went to Baltimore my old master's youngest son,
Richard, died; and in three years and six months after my
old master himself died, leaving only his daughter Lucretia
and his son Andrew to share the estate. The old man died
while on a visit to his daughter in Hillsborough, where Capt.
Auld and Mrs. Lucretia now lived, Master Thomas having
given up the command of Col. Lloyd's sloop and was now
keeping store in that town.
Cut off thus unexpectedly, Capt. Anthony died intestate,
and his property must be equally divided between his two
children, Andrew and Lucretia.
5 (87)

88 CHATTELS TO BE DIVIDED.
The valuation and division of slaves among contending
heirs was a most important incident in slave life. The char-
acters and tendencies of the heirs were generally well under-
stood by the slaves who were to be divided, and all had their
aversions and their preferences. But neither their aversions
nor their preferences availed anything.
On the death of old master I was immediately sent for to
be valued and divided with the other property. Personally,
my concern was mainly about my possible removal from the
home of Master Hugh, for up to this time there had no dark
clouds arisen to darken the sky of that happy abode. It was
a sad day to me when I left for the Eastern Shore, to be
valued and divided, as it was for my dear mistress and teacher,
and for little Tommy. We all three wept bitterly, for we were
parting, and it might be we were parting forever. No one
could tell amongst which pile of chattels I might be flung.
Thus early, I got a foretaste of that painful uncertainty which
in one form or another was ever obtruding itself in the path-
way of the slave. It furnished me a new insight into the
unnatural power to which I was subjected. Sickness, adver-
sity, and death may interfere with the plans and purposes of
all, but the slave had the added danger of changing homes, in
the separations unknown to other men. Then too, there was
the intensified degradation of the spectacle. What an assem-
blage Men and women, young and old, married and single;
moral and thinking human beings, in open contempt of their
humanity, leveled at a blow with horses, sheep, horned cattle,
and swine. Horses and men, cattle and women, pigs and
children—all holding the same rank in the scale of social
existence, and all subjected to the same narrow inspection, to
ascertain their value in gold and silver—the only standard of
worth applied by slaveholders to their slaves. Personality
swallowed up in the sordid idea of property! Manhood lost
in chattelhood |
The valuation over, then came the division and apportion-
ment. Our destiny was to be fived for life, and we had no

CONSTERNATION AT THE PROSPECT. 89
more voice in the decision of the question than the oxen and
cows that stood chewing at the hay-mow. One word of the
appraisers, against all preferences and prayers, could sunder
all the ties of friendship and affection, even to separating hus-
bands and wives, parents and children. We were all appalled
before that power which, to human seeming, could bless or blast
us in a moment. Added to this dread of separation, most
painful to the majority of the slaves, we all had a decided hor-
ror of falling into the hands of Master Andrew, who was dis-
tinguished for his cruelty and intemperance.
Slaves had a great dread, very naturally, of falling into the
hands of drunken owners. Master Andrew was a confirmed
sot, and had already by his profligate dissipation wasted a
large portion of his father's property. To fall into his hands,
therefore, was considered as the first step toward being sold
away to the far South. He would no doubt spend his fortune
in a few years, it was thought, and his farms and slaves would
be sold at public auction, and the slaves hurried away to the
cotton-fields and rice-swamps of the burning South. This
was cause of deep consternation.
The people of the North, and free people generally, I think,
have less attachment to the places where they are born and
brought up, than had the slaves. Their freedom to come and
go, to be here or there, as they list, prevents any extravagant
attachment to any one particular place. On the other hand,
the slave was a fixture; he had no choice, no goal, but was
pegged down to one single spot, and must take root there or
nowhere. The idea of removal elsewhere came generally in
shape of a threat, and in punishment for crime. It was there-
fore attended with fear and dread. The enthusiasm which
animates the bosoms of young freemen, when they contem-
plate a life in the far West, or in some distant country, where
they expect to rise to wealth and distinction, could have no
place in the thought of the slave; nor could those from whom
they separated know anything of that cheerfulness with which
friends and relations yield each other up, when they feel that
90 DREAD OF MASTER ANDREW.
it is for the good of the departing one that he is removed from
his native place. Then, too, there is correspondence and the
hope of reunion, but with the slaves all these mitigating cir-
cumstances were wanting. There was no improvement in
condition probable—no correspondence possible—no reunion
attainable. His going out into the world was like a living
man going into the tomb, who with open eyes, sees himself
buried out of sight and hearing of wife, children, and friends
of kindred tie.
In contemplating the likelihoods and possibilities of our
circumstances, I probably suffered more than most of my fel-
low-servants. I had known what it was to experience kind
and even tender treatment; they had known nothing of the
sort. Life to them had been rough and thorny, as well as
dark. They had—most of them—lived on my old master's
farm in Tuckahoe, and had felt the rigors of Mr. Plummer's
rule. He had written his character on the living parchment
of most of their backs, and left them seamed and callous;
my back (thanks to my early removal to Baltimore) was yet
tender. I had left a kind mistress in tears when we parted,
and the probability of ever seeing her again, trembling in
the balance as it were, could not fail to excite in me alarm
and agony. The thought of becoming the slave of Andrew
Anthony—who but a few days before the division had in my
presence seized my brother Perry by the throat, dashed him
on the ground, and with the heel of his boot stamped him on
the head, until the blood gushed from his nose and ears—was
terrible This fiendish proceeding had no better apology than
the fact that Perry had gone to play when Master Andrew
wanted him for some trifling service. After inflicting this
cruel treatment on my brother, observing me, as I looked at
him in astonishment, he said: “That's the way I’ll serve you,
one of these days”; meaning, probably, when I should come
into his possession. This threat, the reader may well suppose,
was not very tranquilizing to my feelings.
At last the anxiety and suspense were ended; and ended,


BACK IN BALTIMORE. 91
thanks to a kind Providence, in accordance with my wishes.
I fell to the portion of Mrs. Lucretia, the dear lady who bound
up my head in her father's kitchen, and shielded me from the
maledictions of Aunt Katy.
Capt. Thomas Auld and Mrs. Lucretia at once decided on
my return to Baltimore. They knew how warmly Mrs. Hugh
Auld was attached to me, and how delighted Tommy would
be to see me, and withal, having no immediate use for me,
they willingly concluded this arrangement.
I need not stop to narrate my joy on finding myself back in
Baltimore. I was just one month absent, but the time seemed
fully six months. -
I had returned to Baltimore but a short time when the tid-
ings reached me that my kind friend, Mrs. Lucretia, was dead.
She left one child, a daughter, named Amanda, of whom I
shall speak again. Shortly after the death of Mrs. Lucretia,
Master Andrew died, leaving a wife and one child. Thus the
whole family of Anthonys, as it existed when I went to Col.
Lloyd's place, was swept away during the first five years'
time of my residence at Master Hugh Auld's in Baltimore.
No especial alteration took place in the condition of the
slaves, in consequence of these deaths, yet I could not help
the feeling that I was less secure now that Mrs. Lucretia was
gone. While she lived, I felt that I had a strong friend to
plead for me in any emergency.
In a little book which I published six years after my escape
from slavery, entitled, “Narrative of Frederick Douglass,”—
when the distance between the past then described, and the
present was not so great as it is now.—speaking of these
changes in my master's family, and their results, I used this
language: “Now all the property of my old master, slaves
included, was in the hands of strangers—strangers who had
ºling to do in accumulating it. Not a slave was left free.
A}l rºmained slaves, from the youngest to the oldest. If any
one thing in my experience, more than another, has served
to deepen my conviction of the infernal character of slavery,
92 INGRATITUDE TO GRANDMOTHER.
and to fill me with unutterable loathing of slaveholders, it was
their base ingratitude to my poor old grandmother. She had
served my old master faithfully from youth to old age. She
had been the source of all his wealth; she had peopled his
plantation with slaves; she had become a great-grandmother
in his service. She had rocked him in his infancy, attended
him in his childhood, served him through life, and at his death
wiped from his icy brow the cold death-sweat, and closed his
eyes forever. She was nevertheless a slave—a slave for life—
a slave in the hands of strangers; and in their hands she saw
her children, her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren,
divided like so many sheep, without being gratified with the
small privilege of a single word as to their or her own des-
tiny. And to cap the climax of their base ingratitude, my
grandmother, who was now very old, having outlived my old
master and all his children, having seen the beginning and
end of them, and her present owner—his grandson—finding she
was of but little value—her frame already racked with the
pains of old age, and complete helplessness fast stealing over
her once active limbs—took her to the woods, built her a little
hut with a mud chimney, and then gave her the bounteous
privilege of supporting herself there in utter loneliness: thus
virtually turning her out to die. If my poor, dear old grand-
mother now lives, she lives to remember and mourn over the
loss of children, the loss of grandchildren, and the loss of
great-grandchildren. They are, in the language of Whittier,
the slave's poet:
“Gone, gone, sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings,
Where the noisome insect stings,
Where the fever-demon strews
Poison with the falling dews,
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air:-
Gone, gone, sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp, dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters—
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!”


THE SLAVE's POET. 93
The hearth is desolate. The unconscious children who
once sang and danced in her presence are gone. She gropes
her way, in the darkness of age, for a drink of water. In-
stead of the voices of her children, she hears by day the
moans of the dove, and by night the screams of the hideous
owl. All is gloom. The grave is at the door; and now,
weighed down by the pains and aches of old age, when the
head inclines to the feet, when the beginning and ending of
human existence meet, and helpless infancy, and painful old
age combine together, at this time-this most needed time
for the exercise of that tenderness and affection which chil-
dren only can bestow on a declining parent-my poor old
grandmother, the devoted mother of twelve children, is left all
alone, in yonder little hut, before a few dim cinders.”
Two years after the death of Mrs. Lucretia, Master Thomas
married his second wife. Her name was Rowena Hamilton,
the eldest daughter of Mr. William Hamilton, a rich slave-
holder on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, who lived about
five miles from St. Michaels, the then place of Master
Thomas Auld's residence.
Not long after his marriage, Master Thomas had a mis-
understanding with Master Hugh, and as a means of punish-
ing him, he ordered him to send me home. As the ground of
the misunderstanding will serve to illustrate the character of
Southern chivalry and Southern humanity, fifty years ago, I
will relate it.
Among the children of my Aunt Milly, was a daughter
named Henny. When quite a child, Henny had fallen into
the fire and had burnt her hands so badly that they were of
Very little use to her. Her fingers were drawn almost into
the palms of her hands. She could make out to do some-
thing, but she was considered hardly worth the having—of
little more value than a horse with a broken leg. This un-
profitable piece of property, ill-shapen and disfigured, Capt.
Auld sent off to Baltimore.

94 ANOTHER SHOCKe
After giving poor Henny a fair trial, Master Hugh and his
wife came to the conclusion that they had no use for the poor
cripple, and they sent her back to Master Thomas. This the
latter took as an act of ingratitude on the part of his brother,
and as a mark of his displeasure, he required him to send me
immediately to St. Michaels, saying, “if he cannot keep Hen,
he shan’t have Fred.”
Here was another shock to my nerves, another breaking up
of my plans, and another severance of my religious and social
alliances. I was now a big boy. I had become quite useful
to several young colored men, who had made me their teacher.
I had taught some of them to read, and was accustomed to
spend many of my leisure hours with them. Our attachment
was strong, and I greatly dreaded the separation. But regrets
with slaves were unavailing: my wishes were nothing; my
happiness was the sport of my master.
My regrets at leaving Baltimore now were not for the same
reasons as when I before left the City to be valued and handed
over to a new owner.
A change had taken place, both in Master Hugh and in his
once pious and affectionate wife. The influence of brandy
and bad company on him, and of slavery and social isolation
on her, had wrought disastrously upon the characters of both.
Thomas was no longer “little Tommy,” but was a big boy,
and had learned to assume the airs of his class towards me.
My condition, therefore, in the house of Master Hugh was
not by any means so comfortable as in former years. My
attachments were now outside of our family. They were to
those to whom I imparted instruction, and to those little white
boys, from whom I received instruction. There, too, was my
dear old father, the pious Lawson, who was in all the Christian
graces the very counterpart of “Uncle Tom " the resem-
blance so perfect that he might have been the original of Mrs.
Stowe's Christian hero. The thought of leaving these dear
friends greatly troubled me, for I was going without the hope
of ever returning again; the feud being most bitter, and
apparently wholly irreconcilable.

AT ST. MICHAELS AGAIN- 95
In addition to the pain of parting from friends, as I sup-
posed, forever, I had the added grief of neglected chances of
escape to brood over. I had put off running away until I was
now to be placed where opportunities for escape would be
much more difficult, and less frequent.
As we sailed down the Chesapeake bay, on board the sloop
Amanda, to St. Michaels, and were passed by the steamers ply-
ing between Baltimore and Philadelphia, I formed many a
plan for my future, beginning and ending in the same deter-
mination—yet to find some way of escape from slavery.
5 *
CHAPTER XIV.
EXPERIENCE IN ST. MICHAELS.
St. Michaels and its inhabitants—Capt. Auld–His new wife—Sufferings
from hunger–Forced to steal—Argument in vindication thereof—South
ern camp-meeting—What Capt. Auld did there–Hopes—Suspicions—The
result–Faith and works at variance—Position in the church–Poor Cousin
Henny—Methodist preachers—Their disregard of the slaves—One excep.
tion—Sabbath-school—How and by whom broken up—Sad change in my
prospects-Covey, the negro-breaker.
T. MICHAELS, the village in which was now my new
home, compared favorably with villages in slave States
generally, at this time–1833. There were a few comfortable
dwellings in it, but the place as a whole wore a dull, slovenly,
enterprise-forsaken aspect. The mass of the buildings were
of wood; they had never enjoyed the artificial adornment of
paint, and time and storms had worn off the bright color of
the wood, leaving them almost as black as buildings charred
by a conflagration.
St. Michaels had, in former years, enjoyed some reputation
as a ship-building community, but that business had almost
entirely given place to oyster fishing for the Baltimore and
Philadelphia markets, a course of life highly unfavorable to
morals, industry, and manners. Miles river was broad, and
its oyster fishing grounds were extensive, and the fishermen
were out often all day and a part of the night, during autumn,
winter, and spring. This exposure was an excuse for carry-
ing with them, in considerable quantities, spirituous liquors,
the then supposed best antidote for cold. Each canoe was
supplied with its jug of rum, and tippling among this class of
the citizens became general. This drinking habit, in an ig-
norant population, fostered coarseness, vulgarity, and an indo-
lent disregard for the social improvement of the place, so

(96)

MRS. ROWENA AULD. 97.
that it was admitted by the few sober thinking people who
remained there, that St. Michaels was an unsaintly, as well as
unsightly place.
I went to St. Michaels to live in March, 1833. I know
the year, because it was the one succeeding the first cholera
in Baltimore, and was also the year of that strange phenome-
non when the heavens seemed about to part with its starry
train. I witnessed this gorgeous spectacle, and was awe-
struck. The air seemed filled with bright descending mes-
sengers from the sky. It was about daybreak when I saw
this sublime scene. I was not without the suggestion, at the
moment, that it might be the harbinger of the coming of the
Son of man; and in my then state of mind I was prepared to
hail Him as my friend and deliverer. I had read that the
“stars shall fall from heaven,” and they were now falling.
I was suffering very much in my mind. It did seem that
every time the young tendrils of my affection became attached
they were rudely broken by some unnatural outside power;
and I was looking away to heaven for the rest denied me on
earth.
But to my story. It was now more than seven years since
I had lived with Master Thomas Auld, in the family of my
old master, Capt. Anthony, on the home plantation of Col.
Lloyd. As I knew him then it was as the husband of old
master's daughter; I had now to know him as my master.
All my lessons concerning his temper and disposition, and the
best methods of pleasing him, were yet to be learned. Slave-
holders, however, were not very ceremonious in approaching
a slave, and my ignorance of the new material in the shape
of a master was but transient. Nor was my new mistress
long in making known her animus. Unlike Miss Lucretia,
whom I remembered with the tenderness which departed
blessings leave, Mrs. Rowena Auld was cold and cruel, as her
husband was stingy, and possessed the power to make him as
cruel as herself, while she could easily descend to the level
of his meanness. -

98 FORCED TO STEAL.
As long as I had lived in Mr. Hugh Auld's family, what-
ever changes had come over them there had been always a
bountiful supply of food; and now, for the first time in seven
years, I realized the pitiless pinchings of hunger. So wretch-
edly starved were we that we were compelled to live at the
expense of our neighbors, or to steal from the home larder.
This was a hard thing to do; but after much reflection I
reasoned myself into the conviction that there was no other
way to do, and that after all there was no wrong in it. Con-
sidering that my labor and person were the property of Mas-
ter Thomas, and that I was deprived of the necessaries of
life—necessaries obtained by my own labor, it was easy to
deduce the right to supply myself with what was my own.
It was simply appropriating what was my own to the use of
my master, since the health and strength derived from such
food were exerted in his service. To be sure, this was steal-
ing, according to the law and gospel I heard from the pulpit;
but I had begun to attach less importance to what dropped
from that quarter on such points. It was not always conven-
ient to steal from Master, and the same reason why I might
innocently steal from him did not seem to justify me in steal-
ing from others. In the case of my master it was a question
of removal—the taking his meat out of one tub and putting
it in another; the ownership of the meat was not affected by
the transaction. At first he owned it in the tub, and last he
owned it in me. His meat-house was not always open.
There was a strict watch kept in that point, and the key was
carried in Mrs. Auld's pocket. We were oftentimes severely
pinched with hunger, when meat and bread were mouldering
under the lock and key. This was so, when she knew we
were nearly half-starved; and yet with saintly air would she
kneel with her husband and pray each morning that a merci-
ful God would “bless them in basket and store, and save them
at last in His kingdom.” But I proceed with my argument.
It was necessary that the right to steal from others should
be established; and this could only rest upon a wider range

FAITH AND WORKS. 99
of generalization than that which supposed the right to steal
from my master. It was some time before I arrived at this
clear right. To give some idea of my train of reasoning, I
will state the case as I laid it out in my mind. “I am.” I
thought, “not only the slave of Master Thomas, but I am the
slave of society at large. Society at large has bound itself,
in form and in fact, to assist Master Thomas in robbing me
of my rightful liberty, and of the just reward of my labor;
therefore, whatever rights I have against Master Thomas I
have equally against those confederated with him in robbing
me of liberty. As society has marked me out as privileged
plunder, on the principle of self-preservation, I am justified
in plundering in turn. Since each slave belongs to all, all
must therefore belong to each.” I reasoned further, that
within the bounds of his just earnings the slave was fully
justified in helping himself to the gold and silver, and the
best apparel of his master, or that of any other slave-holder;
and that such taking was not stealing, in any just sense of
the word.
The morality of free society could have no application to
slave society. Slaveholders made it almost impossible for
the slave to commit any crime, known either to the laws of
God or to the laws of man. If he stole he but took his own;
if he killed his master, he only imitated the heroes of the
revolution. Slaveholders I held to be individually and col-
lectively responsible for all the evils which grew out of the
horrid relation, and I believed they would be so held in the
sight of God. To make a man a slave was to rob him of
moral responsibility. Freedom of choice is the essence of all
accountability; but my kind readers are probably less con-
cerned about what were my opinions than about that which
more nearly touched my personal experience, albeit my opin-
ions have, in some sort, been the outgrowth of my experience.
When I lived with Capt. Auld I thought him incapable of
* noble action. His leading characteristic was intense selfish-
*ss. I think he was fully aware of this fact himself, and
100 CAPT. AULD'S CONVERSION.
often tried to conceal it. Capt. Auld was not a born slave-
holder—not a birthright member of the slave-holding oli-
garchy. He was only a slaveholder by marriage-right; and
of all slaveholders these were by far the most exacting.
There was in him all the love of domination, the pride of
mastery, and the swagger of authority; but his rule lacked
the vital element of consistency. He could be cruel; but his
methods of showing it were cowardly, and evinced his mean-
ness, rather than his spirit. His commands were strong, his
enforcements weak.
Slaves were not insensible to the whole-souled qualities of
a generous, dashing slaveholder, who was fearless of con-
sequences, and they preferred a master of this bold and daring
kind, even with the risk of being shot down for impudence,
to the fretful little soul who never used the lash but at the
suggestion of a love of gain.
Slaves too, readily distinguished between the birthright
bearing of the original slaveholder, and the assumed attitudes
of the accidental slaveholder; and while they could have no
respect for either, they despised the latter more than the
former.
The luxury of having slaves to wait upon him was new to
Master Thomas, and for it he was wholly unprepared. He
was a slaveholder, without the ability to hold or manage his
slaves. Failing to command their respect, both himself and
wife were ever on the alert lest some indignity should be offered
him by the slaves.
It was in the month of August, 1833, when I had become
almost desperate under the treatment of Master Thomas, and
entertained more strongly than ever the oft-repeated determi-
nation to run away, a circumstance occurred which seemed
to promise brighter and better days for us all. At a Metho-
dist camp-meeting, held in the Bay side (a famous place for
camp-meetings) about eight miles from St. Michaels, Master
Thomas came out with a profession of religion. He had long
been an object of interest to the church, and to the ministers,



A PILLAR OF THE CHURCH. 101
as I had seen by the repeated visits and lengthy exhortations
of the latter. He was a fish quite worth catching, for he had
money and standing. In the community of St. Michaels, he
was equal to the best citizen. He was strictly temperate, and
there was little to do for him, to give him the appearance of
piety, and to make him a pillar of the church. Well, the
camp-meeting continued a week; people gathered from all
parts of the country, and two steamboats came loaded from
Baltimore. The ground was happily chosen ; seats were
arranged; a stand erected; a rude altar fenced in, fronting
the preacher's stand, with straw in it, making a soft knceling-
place for the accommodation of mourners. This place would
have held at least one hundred persons. In front and on the
sides of the preacher's stand, and outside the long rows of seats,
rose the first class of stately tents, each vieing with the other
in strength, neatness, and capacity for accommodation. Behind
this first circle of tents, was another less imposing, which
reached round the camp-ground to the speaker's stand. Out-
side this second class of tents were covered wagons, ox-carts,
and vehicles of every shape and size. These served as tents
to their owners. Outside of these, huge fires were burning
in all directions, where roasting and boiling and frying were
going on, for the benefit of those who were attending to their
spiritual welfare within the circle. Behind the preacher's
stand, a narrow space was marked out for the use of the colored
people. There were no seats provided for this class of persons,
and if the preachers addressed them at all, it was in an aside.
After the preaching was over, at every service, an invitation was
given to mourners to come forward into the pen; and in some
cases, ministers went out to persuade men and women to come
in. By one of these ministers, Master Thomas was persuaded
to go inside the pen. I was deeply interested in that matter,
and followed; and though colored people were not allowed
either in the pen, or in front of the preacher's stand, I ven-
tured to take my stand at a sort of half-way place between the
blacks and whites, where I could distinctly see the movements

102 A CAMP-MEETING.
of the mourners, and especially the progress of Master Thomas.
“If he has got religion,” thought I, “he will emancipate
his slaves; or, if he should not do so much as this, he will at
any rate behave towards us more kindly, and feed us more
generously than he has heretofore done.” Appealing to my
own religious experience, and judging my master by what was
true in my own case, I could not regard him as soundly con-
verted, unless some such good results followed his profession
of religion. But in my expectations I was doubly disappointed:
Master Thomas was Master Thomas still. The fruits of his
righteousness were to show themselves in no such way as I
had anticipated. His conversion was not to change his rela-
tion toward men—at any rate not toward BLACK men—but
toward God. My faith, I confess, was not great. There was
something in his appearance that in my mind cast a doubt
over his conversion. Standing where I did, I could see his
every movement. I watched very narrowly while he remained
in the pen; and although I saw that his face was extremely
red, and his hair disheveled, and though I heard him groan,
and saw a stray tear halting on his cheek, as if inquiring,
“ which way shall I go 2'-I could not wholly confide in the
genuineness of the conversion. The hesitating behavior of
that tear-drop, and its loneliness, distressed me, and cast a
doubt upon the whole transaction, of which it was a part.
But people said, “Capt. Auld has come through,” and it was
for me to hope for the best. I was bound to do this in charity,
for I, too, was religious, and had been in the church full three
years, although now I was not more than sixteen years old.
Slaveholders might sometimes have confidence in the piety of
some of their slaves, but the slaves seldom had confidence in
the piety of their masters. “He can't go to heaven without
blood on his skirts,” was a settled point in the creed of every
slave; which rose superior to all teaching to the contrary, and
stood forever as a fixed fact. The highest evidence the slave-
holder could give the slave of his acceptance with God, was
the emancipation of his slaves. This was proof to us that he
-

MASTER THOMAS NOT CHANGED. 103
was willing to give up all to God, and for the sake of God,
and not to do this was, in our estimation, an evidence of hard-
heartedness, and was wholly inconsistent with the idea of
genuine conversion. I had read somewhere in the Methodist
Discipline, the following question and answer: “Question.
What shall be done for the extirpation of slavery 7” “Answer.
We declare that we are as much as ever convinced of the
great evil of slavery; therefore, no slaveholder shall be eligi-
ble to any official station in our church.” These words sounded
in my ears for a long time, and encouraged me to hope. But
as I have before said, I was doomed to disappointment. Mas-
ter. Thomas seemed to be aware of my hopes and expectations
concerning him. I have thought before now that he looked
at me in answer to my glances, as much as to say, “I will
teach you, young man, that though I have parted with my sins,
I have not parted with my sense. I shall hold my slaves, and
go to heaven too.”
There was always a scarcity of good nature about the man;
but now his whole countenance was soured all over with the
seemings of piety and he became more rigid and stringent in
his exactions. If religion had any effect at all on him, it
made him more cruel and hateful in all his ways. Do I judge
him harshly 7 God forbid. Capt. Auld made the greatest
professions of piety. His house was literally a house of
prayer. In the morning and in the evening loud prayers and
hymns were heard there, in which both himself and wife
joined; yet no more nor better meal was distributed at the
quarters, no more attention was paid to the moral welfare of
the kitchen, and nothing was done to make us feel that the
heart of Master Thomas was one whit better than it was before
he went into the little pen, opposite the preacher's stand on
the camp-ground. Our hopes, too, founded on the discipline,
soon vanished; for he was taken into the church at once, and
before he was out of his term of probation, he lead in class.
He quite distinguished himself among the brethren as a fer.
Yºut exhorter. His progress was almost as rapid as the growth
104 ST, MICHAELS THE PREACHER's HOME.
of the fabled vine of Jack and the bean-stalk. No man was
more active in revivals, or would go more miles to assist in
carrying them on, and in getting outsiders interested in relig-
ion. His house, being one of the holiest in St. Michaels,
became the “preachers’ home.” They evidently liked to share
his hospitality; for while he starved us, he stuffed them—
three or four of these “ambassadors” being there not unfre-
quently at a time—all living on the fat of the land, while we
in the kitchen were worse than hungry. Not often did we
get a smile of recognition from these holy men. They seemed
about as unconcerned about our getting to heaven, as about
our getting out of slavery. To this general charge, I must
make one exception—the Reverend George Cookman. Unlike
Rev. Messrs. Storks, Ewry, Nicky, Humphrey, and Cooper (all
of whom were on the St. Michaels circuit), he kindly took an
interest in our temporal and spiritual welfare. Our souls and
our bodies were alike sacred in his sight, and he really had a
good deal of genuine anti-slavery feeling mingled with his
colonization ideas. There was not a slave in our neighbor-
hood who did not love and venerate Mr. Cookman. It was
pretty generally believed that he had been instrumental in
bringing one of the largest slaveholders in that neighborhood
—Mr. Samuel Harrison—to emancipate all his slaves, and the
general impression about Mr. Cookman was, that whenever he
met slaveholders he labored faithfully with them, as a religious
duty, to induce them to liberate their bondmen. When this
good man was at our house, we were all sure to be called in
to prayers in the morning; and he was not slow in making
inquiries as to the state of our minds, nor in giving us a word
of exhortation and of encouragement. Great was the sorrow
of all the slaves when this faithful preacher of the gospel was
removed from the circuit. He was an eloquent preacher, and
possessed what few ministers, south of Mason and Dixon's
line, possessed or dared to show; viz., a warm and philan-
thropic heart. This Mr. Cookman was an Englishman by
birth, and perished on board the ill-fated steamship “Presi-
dent,” while on his way to England.










SOMETHING WORTH LIVING FOR. 105
But to my experience with Master Thomas after his con-
version. In Baltimore I could occasionally get into a Sabbath-
school, amongst the free children, and receive lessons with
the rest; but having learned to read and write already, I was
more a teacher than a scholar, even there. When, however,
I went back to the eastern shore and was at the house of
Master Thomas, I was not allowed either to teach or to be
taught. The whole community, with but one single exception,
among the whites, frowned upon everything like imparting
instruction, either to slaves or to free colored persons. That
single exception, a pious young man named Wilson, asked
me one day if I would like to assist him in teaching a little
Sabbath-school, at the house of a free colored man named
James Mitchell. The idea was to me a delightful one, and I
told him I would gladly devote as much of my Sabbaths as I
could command to that most laudable work. Mr. Wilson
soon mustered up a dozen old spelling-books and a few testa-
ments, and we commenced operations, with some twenty
scholars in our school. Here, thought I, is something worth
living for; here is a chance for usefulness. The first Sunday
passed delightfully, and I spent the week after very joyously.
I could not go to Baltimore, where I and the little company
of young friends who had been so much to me there, and
from whom I felt parted forever, but I could make a little
Baltimore here. At our second meeting I learned there were
some objections to the existence of our school; and sure
enough, we had scarcely got to work—good work, simply
teaching a few colored children how to read the gospel of the
Son of God—when in rushed a mob, headed by two class-
leaders, Mr. Wright Fairbanks and Mr. Garrison West, and
with them Master Thomas. They were armed with sticks
and other missiles, and drove us off, commanding us never to
meet for such a purpose again. One of this pious crew told
me that as for me, I wanted to be another Nat. Turner, and
if I did not look out I should get as many balls in me as
Nat did into him. Thus ended the Sabbath-school; and the
106 MASTER Thomas CRUELty.
reader will not be surprised that this conduct, on the part of
class-leaders and professedly holy men, did not serve to
strengthen my religious convictions. The cloud over my St.
Michaels home grew heavier and blacker than ever.
It was not merely the agency of Master Thomas in break-
ing up our Sabbath-school, that shook my confidence in the
power of that kind of southern religion to make men wiser
or better, but I saw in him all the cruelty and meanness after
his conversion which he had exhibited before time. His cru-
elty and meanness were especially displayed in his treatment
of my unfortunate cousin Henny, whose lameness made her
a burden to him. I have seen him tie up this lame and
maimed woman and whip her in a manner most brutal and
shocking ; and then with blood-chilling blasphemy he would
quote the passage of scripture, “That servant which knew
his lord’s will and prepared not himself, neither did according
to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes.” He would
keep this lacerated woman tied up by her wrists to a bolt in
the joist, three, four, and five hours at a time. He would tie
her up early in the morning, whip her with a cowskin before
breakfast, leave her tied up, go to his store, and returning to
dinner repeat the castigation, laying on the rugged lash on
flesh already raw by repeated blows. He seemed desireus to
get the poor girl out of existence, or at any rate off his hands.
In proof of this, he afterwards gave her away to his sister
Sarah (Mrs. Cline), but as in the case of Mr. Hugh, Henny
was soon returned on his hands. Finally, upon a pretense
that he could do nothing for her (I use his own words), he
“set her adrift to take care of herself.” Here was a recently
converted man, holding with tight grasp the well-framed and
able-bodied slaves left him by old master—the persons who in
freedom could have taken care of themselves; yet turning
loose the only cripple among them, virtually to starve and
die.
No doubt, had Master Thomas been asked by some pious
northern brother, why he held slaves his reply would have



WHIPPINGS NOT IMPROVING. 107
been precisely that which many another slaveholder has
returned to the same inquiry, viz.: “I hold my slaves for
their own good.”
The many differences springing up between Master Thomas
and myself, owing to the clear perception I had of his char-
acter, and the boldness with which I defended myself against
his capricious complaints, led him to declare that I was un-
suited to his wants; that my city life had affected me perni-
ciously; that in fact it had almost ruined me for every good
purpose, and had fitted me for everything bad. One of my
greatest faults, or offences, was that of letting his horse get
away and go down to the farm which belonged to his father-
in-law. The animal had a liking for that farm with which I
fully sympathized. Whenever I let it out it would go dashing
down the road to Mr. Hamilton's as if going on a grand frolic.
My horse gone, of course I must go after it. The explana-
tion of our mutual attachment to the place is the same—the
horse found good pasturage, and I found there plenty of bread.
Mr. Hamilton had his faults, but starving his slaves was not
one of them. He gave food in abundance, and of excellent
quality. In Mr. Hamilton's cook—Aunt Mary—I found a
generous and considerate friend. She never allowed me to
go there without giving me bread enough to make good the
deficiencies of a day or two. Master Thomas at last resolved
to endure my behavior no longer; he could keep neither me
nor his horse, we liked so well to be at his father-in-law’s
farm. I had now lived with him nearly nine months, and he
had given me a number of severe whippings, without any vis-
ible improvement in my character or conduct, and now he
was resolved to put me out, as he said, “to be broken.”
There was, in the Bay-side, very near the camp-ground
where my master received his religious impressions, a man
named Edward Covey, who enjoyed the reputation of being a
first rate hand at breaking young negroes. This Covey was a
** a farm renter; and his reputation of being a good
hand to break in slaves was of immense pecuniary advantage
108 BREAKING YOUNG SLAVES.
to him, since it enabled him to get his farm tilled with very
little expense, compared with what it would have cost him
otherwise. Some slaveholders thought it an advantage to
let Mr. Covey have the government of their slaves a year or
two, almost free of charge, for the sake of the excellent train-
ing they had under his management. Like some horse-break-
ers noted for their skill, who ride the best horses in the
country without expense, Mr. Covey could have under him
the most fiery bloods of the neighborhood, for the simple
reward of returning them to their owners well broken. Added
to the natural fitness of Mr. Covey for the duties of his pro-
fession, he was said “to enjoy religion,” and he was as strict
in the cultivation of piety as he was in the cultivation of his
farm. I was made aware of these traits in his character by
some one who had been under his hand, and while I could
not look forward to going to him with any degree of pleasure,
I was glad to get away from St. Michaels. I believed I should
get enough to eat at Covey's, even if I suffered in other
respects, and this to a hungry man is not a prospect to be
regarded with indifference.



CHAPTER XV.
COVEY, THE NEGRO BREAKER.
Journey to Covey's—Meditations by the way—Covey's house—Family—
Awkwardness as a field hand-A cruel beating–Why given–Description
of Covey–First attempt at driving oxen-Hair-breadth escape–Ox and
man alike property–Hard labor more effective than the whip for break-
ing down the spirit–Cunning and trickery of Covey–Family worship—
Shocking and indecent contempt for chastity—Great mental agitation—
Anguish beyond description. -
HE morning of January 1, 1834, with its chilling wind
and pinching frost, quite in harmony with the winter in
my own mind, found me, with my little bundle of clothing on the
end of a stick swung across my shoulder, on the main road
bending my way towards Covey's, whither I had been imperi-
ously ordered by Master Thomas. He had been as good as
his word, and had committed me without reserve to the mas-
tery of that hard man. Eight or ten years had now passed
since I had been taken from my grandmother's cabin in Tuck-
ahoe; and these years, for the most part, I had spent in Bal-
timore, where, as the reader has already seen, I was treated
with comparative tenderness. I was now about to sound pro-
founder depths in slave life. My new master was notorious
for his fierce and savage disposition, and my only consolation
in going to live with him was the certainty of finding him
precisely as represented by common fame. There was neither
joy in my heart nor elasticity in my frame as I started for the
tyrant's home. Starvation made me glad to leave Thomas
Auld's, and the cruel lash made me dread to go to Covey's.
Escape, however, was impossible; so, heavy and sad, I paced
the seven miles which lay between his house and St. Michaels,
thinking much by the solitary way of my adverse condition.
But thinking was all I could do. Like a fish in a net, allowed
(109)
110 HE IS SENT TO SCHOOL.
to play for a time, I was now drawn rapidly to the shore, se.
cured at all points. “I am,” thought I, “but the sport of a
power which makes no account, either of my welfare or my
happiness. By a law which I can comprehend, but cannot
evade or resist, I am ruthlessly snatched from the hearth of a
fond grandmother and hurried away to the home of a mys.
terious old master; again I am removed from there to a mas-
ter in Baltimore; thence am I snatched away to the eastern
shore to be valued with the beasts of the field, and with them
divided and set apart for a possessor; then I am sent back to
Baltimore, and by the time I have formed new attach ments
and have begun to hope that no more rude shocks shall touch
me, a difference arises between brothers and I am again
broken up and sent to St. Michaels; and now from the latter
place I am footing my way to the home of another master,
where I am given to understand that like a wild young work-
ing animal I am to be broken to the yoke of a bitter and life-
long bondage.” With thoughts and reflections like these, I
came in sight of a small wood-colored building, about a mile
from the main road, which, from the description I had received
at starting I easily recognized as my new home. The Chesa-
peake bay, upon the jutting banks of which the little wood-
colored house was standing, white with foam raised by the
heavy northwest wind; Poplar Island, covered with a thick
black pine forest, standing out amid this half ocean; and
Keat Point, stretching its sandy, desert-like shores out into
the foam-crested bay, were all in sight, and served to deepen
the wild and desolate scene.
The good clothes I had brought with me from Baltimore
were now worn thin, and had not been replaced; for Master
Thomas was as little careful to provide against cold as hun-
ger. Met here by a north wind, sweeping through an open
space of forty miles, I was glad to make any port, and, there-
fore, I speedily pressed on to the wood-colored house. The
family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Covey; Mrs. Kemp (a
broken-backed woman), sister to Mrs. Covey; William Hughes,


HIS BROTHER IN THE CHURCH. 111
cousin to Mr. Covey; Caroline, the cook; Bill Smith, a hired
man, and myself. Bill Smith, Bill Hughes, and myself were
the working force of the farm, which comprised three or four
hundred acres. I was now for the first time in my life to be
a field-hand; and in my new employment I found myself even
more awkward than a green country boy may be supposed to
be upon his first entrance into the bewildering scenes of city
life; and my awkwardness gave me much trouble. Strange
and unnatural as it may seem, I had been in my new home
but three days before Mr. Covey (my brother in the Methodist
church) gave me a bitter foretaste of what was in reserve for
me. I presume he thought that since he had but a single
year in which to complete his work, the sooner he begun, the
better. Perhaps he thought by coming to blows at once we
should mutually understand better our relations to each other.
But to whatever motive, direct or indirect, the cause may be
referred, I had not been in his possession three whole days
before he subjected me to a most brutal chastisement. Under
his heavy blows blood flowed freely, and wales were left on
my back as large as my little finger. The sores from this
flogging continued for weeks, for they were kept open by the
rough and coarse cloth which I wore for shirting. The occa-
sion and details of this first chapter of my experience as a
field-hand, must be told, that the reader may see how unrea-
sonable, as well as how cruel, my new Master Covey was. The
whole thing I found to be characteristic of the man, and I was
probably treated no worse by him than scores of lads who had
previously been committed to him, for reasons similar to those
which induced my master to place me with him. But here
are the facts connected with the affair, precisely as they
Occurred.
On one of the coldest mornings of the whole month of Jan-
uary, 1834, I was ordered at daybreak to get a load of wood,
from a forest about two miles from the house. In order to
perform this work, Mr. Covey gave me a pair of unbroken
oxen, for it seemed that his breaking abilities had not been
6
112 LEARNING A NEW LANGUAGE.
turned in that direction. In due form, and with all proper
ceremony, I was introduced to this huge yoke of unbroken
oxen, and was carefully made to understand which was
“Buck,” and which was “Darby,”—which was the “in hand,”
and which was the “ off hand” ox. The master of this im-
portant ceremony was no less a person than Mr. Covey him-
self; and the introduction was the first of the kind I had
ever had. -
My life, hitherto, had been quite away from horned cattle,
and I had no knowledge of the art of managing them. What
was meant by the “in ox,” as against the “off ox,” when
both were equally fastened to one cart, and under one yoke,
I could not very easily divine ; and the difference implied by
the names, and the peculiar duties of each, were alike Greek
to me. Why was not the “off ox” called the “in ox.”
Where and what is the reason for this distinction in names,
when there is none in the things themselves : After initiating
me into the use of the “whoa,” “back,” “gee,” “hither,”—
the entire language spoken between oxen and driver, Mr.
Covey took a rope about ten feet long and one inch thick, and
placed one end of it around the horns of the “in hand ox.”
and gave the other end to me, telling me that if the oxen
started to run away (as the scamp knew they would), I must
hold on to the rope and stop them. I need not tell any one
who is acquainted with either the strength or the disposition
of an untamed ox, that this order was about as unreasonable
as a command to shoulder a mad bull. I had never driven
oxen before, and I was as awkward, as a driver, as it is possi-
ble to conceive. I could not plead my ignorance to Mr. Covey;
there was that in his manner which forbade any reply. Cold,
distant, morose, with a face wearing all the marks of captious
pride and malicious sternness, he repelled all advances. He
was not a large man—not more than five feet ten inches in
height, I should think; short-necked, round-shouldered, of
quick and wiry motion, of thin and wolfish visage, with a pair
of small, greenish-gray eyes, set well back under a forehead


THE AMIABLE MR. COVEY. 113
without dignity, and which were constantly in motion, express-
ing his passions rather than his thoughts, in sight but deny-
ing them utterance in words. The creature presented an
appearance altogether ferocious and sinister, disagreeable and
forbidding, in the extreme. When he spoke, it was from the
corner of his mouth, and in a sort of light growl, like a dog,
when an attempt is made to take a bone from him. I already
believed him a worse fellow than he had been represented to
be. With his directions, and without stopping to question, I
started for the woods, quite anxious to perform my first ex-
ploit in driving in a creditable manner. The distance from
the house to the wood's gate—a full mile, I should think—
was passed over with little difficulty: for, although the ani-
mals ran, I was fleet enough in the open field to keep pace
with them, especially as they pulled me along at the end of
the rope; but on reaching the woods, I was speedily thrown
into a distressing plight. The animals took fright, and
started off ferociously into the woods, carrying the cart full
tilt against trees, over stumps, and dashing from side to side
in a manner altogether frightful. As I held the rope I
expected every moment to be crushed between the cart and
the huge trees, among which they were so furiously dashing.
After running thus for several minutes, my oxen were finally
brought to a stand by a tree, against which they dashed them-
selves with great violence, upsetting the cart, and entangling
themselves among sundry young saplings. By the shock the
body of the cart was flung in one direction and the wheels
and tongue in another, and all in the greatest confusion. There
I was, all alone in a thick wood to which I was a stranger;
my cart upset and shattered, my oxen entangled, wild, and
enraged, and I, poor soul, but a green hand to set all this dis-
order right. I knew no more of oxen than the ox-driver is
supposed to know of wisdom.
After standing a few minutes, surveying the damage, and
not without a presentiment that this trouble would draw after
it others, even more distressing, I took one end of the cart
114 FUNNY EXPERIENCE.
body and, by an extra outlay of strength, I lifted it toward
the axle-tree, from which it had been violently flung; and
after much pulling and straining, I succeeded in getting the
body of the cart in its place. This was an important step out
of the difficulty, and its performance increased my courage
for the work which remained to be done. The cart was pro-
vided with in ax, a tool with which I had become pretty
well acquainted in the ship-yard at Baltimore. With this I
cut down the saplings by which my oxen were entangled, and
again pursued my journey, with my heart in my mouth, lest
the oxen should again take it into their senseless heads to cut
up a caper. But their spree was over for the present, and the
rascals now moved off as soberly as though their behavior
had been natural and exemplary. On reaching the part of
the forest where I had been the day before chopping wood, I
filled the cart with a heavy load, as a security against another
runaway. But the neck of an ox is equal in strength to iron.
It defies ordinary burdens. Tame and docile to a proverb,
when well trained, the ox is the most sullen and intractable of
animals when but half broken to the yoke. I saw in my own
situation several points of similarity with that of the oxen.
They were property; so was I. Covey was to break me—I
was to break them. Break and be broken was the order. -
Half of the day was already gone and I had not yet turned
my face homeward. It required only two days’ experience
and observation to teach me that no such apparent waste of
time would be lightly overlooked by Covey. I therefore hur-
ried toward home; but in reaching the lane gate I met the
crowning disaster of the day. This gate was a fair specimen
of southern handicraft. There were two huge posts eighteen
inches in diameter, rough hewed and square, and the heavy gate
was so hung on one of these that it opened only about half the
proper distance. On arriving here it was necessary for me to let
go the end of the rope on the horns of the “in hand ox; ” and
now as soon as the gate was open and I let go of it to get the
rope again, off went my oxen, making nothing of their load,


BREAKING OXEN. 115
full tilt; and in so doing they caught the huge gate between
the wheel and the cart body, literally crushing it to splinters,
and coming only within a few inches of subjecting me to a
similar crushing, for I was just in advance of the wheel when
it struck the left gate post. With these two hair-breadth
escapes I thought I could successfully explain to Mr. Covey
the delay and avert punishment—I was not without a faint
hope of being commended for the stern resolution which I
had displayed in accomplishing the difficult task—a task
which I afterwards learned even Covey himself would not
have undertaken without first driving the oxen for some time
in the open field, preparatory to their going to the woods.
But in this hope I was disappointed. On coming to him his
countenance assumed an aspect of rigid displeasure, and as I
gave him a history of the casualties of my trip, his wolfish
face, with his greenish eyes, became intensely ferocious. “Go
back to the woods again,” he said, muttering something else
about wasting time. I hastily obeyed, but I had not gone far
on my way when I saw him coming after me. My oxen now
behaved themselves with singular propriety, contrasting their
present conduct to my representation of their former antics.
I almost wished, now that Covey was coming, they would do
something in keeping with the character I had given them;
but no, they had already had their spree, and they could afford
now to be extra good, readily obeying orders, and seeming to
understand them quite as well as I did myself. On reaching
the woods my tormentor, who seemed all the time to be re-
marking to himself upon the good behavior of the oxen, came
up to me and ordered me to stop the cart, accompanying the
same with the threat that he would now teach me how to
break gates and idle away my time when he sent me to the
woods. Suiting the action to the words, Covey paced off, in
his own wiry fashion, to a large black gum tree, the young
shoots of which are generally used for or goods, they being
exceedingly tough. Three of these goads, from four to six
feet long, he cut off and trimmed up with his large jack-knife.
116 FRUITS OF HIS EDUCATION.
This done, he ordered me to take off my clothes. To this
unreasonable order I made no reply, but in my apparent un-
consciousness and in attention to this command I indicated
very plainly a stern determination to do no such thing.
“If you will beat me,” thought I, “you shall do so
over my clothes.” After many threats, which made no
impression upon me, he rushed at me with something of the
savage fierceness of a wolf, tore off the few and thinly worn -
clothes I had on, and proceeded to wear out on my back the
heavy goads which he had cut from the gum tree. This flog-
ging was the first of a series of floggings, and though very
severe, it was less so than many which came after it, and
these for offences far lighter than the gate-breaking.
I remained with Mr. Covey one year (I cannot say 1 lived
with him), and during the first six months that I was there I
was whipped, either with sticks or cow-skins, every week.
Aching bones and a sore back were my constant companions.
Frequent as the lash was used, Mr. Covey thought less of it
as a means of breaking down my spirit than that of hard and
continued labor. He worked me steadily up to the point of
my powers of endurance. From the dawn of day in the
morning till the darkness was complete in the evening I was
kept at hard work in the field or the woods. At certain sea-
sons of the year we were all kept in the field till eleven and
twelve o’clock at night. At these times Covey would attend
us in the field and urge us on with words or blows, as it
seemed best to him. He had, in his life, been an overseer,
and he well understood the business of slave-driving. There
was no deceiving him. He knew just what a man or boy
could do, and he held both to strict account. When he
pleased he would work himself like a very Turk, making
everything fly before him. It was, however, scarcely neces-
sary for Mr. Covey to be really present in the field to have
his work go on industriously. He had the faculty of making
us feel that he was always present. By a series of adroitly
managed surprises which he practiced, I was prepared to
-


COVEY THE BRUTE. 117
expect him at any moment. His plan was never to approach
the spot where his hands were at work in an open, manly,
and direct manner. No thief was ever more artful in his
devices than this man Covey. He would creep and crawl in
ditches and gullies, hide behind stumps and bushes, and prac-
tice so much of the cunning of the serpent, that Bill Smith
and I, between ourselves, never called him by any other name
than “the snake.” We fancied that in his eyes and his gait
we could see a snakish resemblance. One half of his profi-
ciency in the art of negro-breaking consisted, I should think,
in this species of cunning. We were never secure. He could
see or hear us nearly all the time. He was to us behind every
stump, tree, bush, and fence on the plantation. He carried
this kind of trickery so far that he would sometimes mount
his horse and make believe he was going to St. Michaels, and
in thirty minutes afterwards you might find his horse tied in
the woods, and the snake-like Covey lying flat in the ditch
with his head lifted above its edge, or in a fence-corner,
watching every movement of the slaves. I have known him
walk up to us and give us special orders as to our work in
advance, as if he were leaving home with a view to being
absent several days, and before he got half way to the house
he would avail himself of our inattention to his movements
to turn short on his heel, conceal himself behind a fence cor-
ner or a tree, and watch us until the going down of the sun.
Mean and contemptible as is all this, it is in keeping with the
character which the life of a slaveholder was calculated to
produce. There was no earthly inducement in the slave's
condition to incite him to labor faithfully. The fear of pun-
ishment was the sole motive of any sort of industry with
him. Knowing this fact as the slaveholder did, and judging
the slave by himself, he naturally concluded that the slave
would be idle whenever the cause for this fear was absent.
Hence all sorts of petty deceptions were practiced to inspire
fear.
But with Mr. Covey trickery was natural. Everything in
118 A HYPOCRITE.
the shape of learning or religion which he possessed was
made to conform to this semi-lying propensity. He did not
seem conscious that the practice had anything unmanly, base,
or contemptible about it. It was a part of an important sys-
tem with him, essential to the relation of master and slave.
I thought I saw, in his very religious devotions, this control-
ling element of his character. A long prayer at night made
up for a short prayer in the morning, and few men could
seem more devotional than he when he had nothing else
to do. -
Mr. Covey was not content with the cold style of family
worship adopted in the cold latitudes, which begin and end
with a simple prayer. No! the voice of praise as well as of
prayer must be heard in his house night and morning. At
first I was called upon to bear some part in these exercises;
but the repeated floggings given me turned the whole thing
into mockery. He was a poor singer, and mainly relied on
me for raising the hymn for the family, and when I failed to
do so he was thrown into much confusion. I do not think he
ever abused me on account of these vexations. His religion
was a thing altogether apart from hi worldly concerns. He
knew nothing of it as a holy principle directing and control-
ling his daily life, making the latter conform to the require-
ments of the gospel. One or two facts will illustrate his
character better than a volume of generalities.
I have already implied that Mr. Edward Covey was a poor
man. He was, in fact, just commencing to lay the foundation
of his fortune, as fortune was regarded in a slave state. The
first condition of wealth and respectability there being the
ownership of human property, every nerve was strained by
the poor man to obtain it, with little regard sometimes as to
the means. In pursuit of this object, pious as Mr. Covey
was, he proved himself as unscrupulous and base as the worst
of his neighbors. In the beginning he was only able—as he
said—“to buy one slave; " and scandalous and shocking as
is the fact, he boasted that he bought her simply “as a



A HORRID SYSTEM. 119
broodor.” But the worst of this is not told in this naked
statement. This young woman (Caroline was her name) was
virtually compelled by Covey to abandon herself to the object
for which he had purchased her; and the result was the birth
of twins at the end of the year. At this addition to his
human stock Covey and his wife were ecstatic with joy. No
one dreamed of reproaching the woman or of finding fault
with the hired man, Bill Smith, the father of the children,
for Mr. Covey himself had locked the two up together every
night, thus inviting the result. -
But I will pursue this revolting subject no farther. No het-
ter illustration of the unchaste, demoralizing, and debasing
character of slavery can be found, than is furnished in the
fact that this professedly Christian slaveholder, amidst all his
prayers and hymns, was shamelessly and boastfully encour-
aging and actually compelling, in his own house, undisguised
and unmitigated fornication, as a means of increasing his
stock. It was the system of slavery which made this allow-
able, and which condemned the slaveholder for buying a slave
woman and devoting her to this life, no more than for buying
a cow and raising stock from her, and the same rules were
observed, with a view to increasing the number and quality of
the one, as of the other.
If at any one time in my life, more than another, I was
made to drink the bitterest dregs of slavery, that time was
during the first six months of my stay with this man Covey.
We were worked all weathers. It was never too hot, or too
cold; it could never rain, blow, snow, or hail too hard for us
to work in the field. Work, work, work, was scarcely more
the order of the day than of the night. The longest days
were too short for him, and the shortest nights were too long
for him. I was somewhat unmanageable at the first, but a few
months of this discipline tamed me. Mr. Covey succeeded in
breaking me—in body, soul, and spirit. My natural elasticity
was crushed; my intellect languished; the disposition to read
departed, the cheerful spark that lingered about my eye died
6 º:

120 HIS DESPONDENCY.
out; the dark night of slavery closed in upon me, and behold
a man transformed to a brute!
Sunday was my only leisure time. I spent this in a sort of
beast-like stupor, between sleeping and waking, under some
large tree. At times I would rise up, a flash of energetic
freedom would dart through my soul, accompanied with a
faint beam of hope that flickered for a moment, and then van-
ished. I sank down again, mourning over my wretched con-
dition. I was sometimes tempted to take my life and that of
Covey, but was prevented by a combination of hope and fear.
My sufferings, as I remember them now, seem like a dream
rather than a stern reality.
Our house stood within a few rods of the Chesapeake bay,
whose broad bosom was ever white with sails from every
quarter of the habitable globe. Those beautiful vessels, robed
in white, and so delightful to the eyes of freemen, were to me
so many shrouded ghosts, to terrify and torment me with
thoughts of my wretched condition. I have often, in the deep
stillness of a summer's Sabbath, stood all alone upon the
banks of that noble bay, and traced, with saddened heart and
tearful eye, the countless number of sails moving off to the
mighty ocean. The sight of these always affected me power-
fully. My thoughts would compel utterance; and there, with
no audience but the Almighty, I would pour out my soul's
complaint in my rude way with an apostrophe to the moving
multitude of ships.
“You are loosed from your moorings, and free. I am fast
in my chains, and am a slave! You move merrily before the
gentle gale, and I sadly before the bloody whip. You are free-
dom's swift-winged angels, that fly around the world; I am
confined in bonds of iron. O, that I were free 0, that I were
on one of your gallant decks, and under your protecting wing!
Alas! betwixt me and you the turbid waters roll. Go on, go
on ; 0, that I could also go! Could I but swim If I could
fly! 0, why was I born a man, of whom to make a brute!
The glad ship is gone: she hides in the dim distance. I am

I AM A SLAVE. 121
left in the hell of unending slavery. O, God, save me! God,
deliver me! Let me be free –Is there any God? Why am
I a slave? I will run away. I will not stand it. Get caught
or get clear, I'll try it. I had as well die with ague as with
fever. I have only one life to lose. I had as well be killed
running as die standing. Only think of it: one hundred
miles north, and I am free! Try it? Yes! God helping me,
1 will. It cannot be that I shall live and die a slave. I will
take to the water. This very bay shall yet bear me into free-
dom. The steamboats steer in a northeast course from North
Point; I will do the same ; and when I get to the head of the
bay, I will turn my canoe adrift, and walk straight through
Delaware into Pennsylvania. When I get there I shall not
be required to have a pass: I will travel there without being
disturbed. Let but the first opportunity offer, and come what
will, I am off. Meanwhile I will try to bear the yoke. I am
not the only slave in the world. Why should I fret : I can
bear as much as any of them. Besides I am but a boy yet,
and all boys are bound out to some one. It may be that my
misery in slavery will only increase my happiness when I get
free. There is a better day coming.”
I shall never be able to narrate half the mental experience
though which it was my lot to pass, during my stay at Covey's.
I was completely wrecked, changed, and bewildered; goaded
almost to madness at one time, and at another, reconciling
myself to my wretched condition. All the kindness I had
received at Baltimore, all my former hopes and aspirations
for usefulness in the world, and even the happy moments
spent in the exercises of religion, contrasted with my then
present lot, served but to increase my anguish.
I suffered bodily as well as mentally. I had neither suffi-
cient time in which to eat, or to sleep, except on Sundays.
The over-work, and the brutal chastisements of which I was
the victim, combined with that ever-gnawing and soul-devour-
ing thought—“I am a slave—a slave for life—a slave with no
rational ground to hope for freedom”—rendered me a living
embodiment of mental and physical wretchedness.

CHAPTER XVI.
ANOTHER PRESSURE OF THE TYRANT'S VICE.
Experience at Covey's summed up—First six months severer than the re-
maining six–Preliminaries to the change-Reasons for narrating the cir-
cumstances—Scene in the treading-yard–Author taken ill–Escapes to St.
Michaels—The pursuit—Suffering in the woods–Talk with Master
Thomas–His beating–Driven back to Covey's—The slaves never sick—
Natural to expect them to feign sickness–Laziness of slaveholders.
HE reader has but to repeat, in his mind, once a week the
T scene in the woods, where Covey subjected me to his merci-
less lash, to have a true idea of my bitter experience, dur-
ing the first six months of the breaking process through which
he carried me. I have no heart to repeat each separate trans.
action. Such a narration would fill a volume much larger
than the present one. I aim only to give the reader a truth-
ful impression of my slave-life, without unnecessarily affecting
him with harrowing details.
As I have intimated that my hardships were much greater
during the first six months of my stay at Covey's than dur-
ing the remainder of the year, and as the change in my con-
dition was owing to causes which may help the reader to a
better understanding of human nature, when subjected to the
terrible extremities of slavery, I will narrate the circumstances
of this change, although I may seem thereby to applaud my
OWI) COurage.
You have, dear reader, seen me humbled, degraded, broken
down, enslaved, and brutalized; and you understand how it
was done; now let us see the converse of all this, and how
it was brought about; and this will take us through the
year 1834.
On one of the hottest days of the month of August, of the
year just mentioned, had the reader been passing through
(122)

TAKEN. SICK. 123
Covey's farm, he might have seen me at work in what was
called the “treading-yard”—a yard upon which wheat was
trodden out from the straw by the horses’ feet, I was there
at work feeding the “fan,” or rather bringing wheat to the
fan, while Bill Smith was feeding. Our force consisted of
Bill Hughes, Bill Smith, and a slave by the name of Eli, the
latter having been hired for the occasion. The work was
simple, and required strength and activity, rather than any
skill or intelligence; and yet to one entirely unused to such
work, it came very hard. The heat was intense and overpow-
ering, and there was much hurry to get the wheat trodden out
that day, through the fan; since if that work was done an
hour before sundown, the hands would have, according to a
promise of Covey, that hour added to their night's rest. I
was not behind any of them in the wish to complete the day's
work before sundown, and hence I struggled with all my might
to get it forward. The promise of one hour's repose on a
week day was sufficient to quicken my pace, and to spur me
on to extra endeavor. Besides, we had all planned to go fish-
ing, and I certainly wished to have a hand in that. But I
was disappointed, and the day turned out to be one of the
bitterest I ever experienced. About three o'clock, while the
sun was pouring down his burning rays, and not a breeze was
stirring, I broke down; my strength failed me; I was seized
with a violent aching of the head, attended with extreme
dizziness, and trembling in every limb. Finding what was
coming, and feeling it would never do to stop work, I nerved
myself up, and staggered on, until I fell by the side of the
wheat fan, with a feeling that the earth had fallen in upon me.
This brought the entire work to a dead stand. There was
work for four: each one had his part to perform, and each
part depended on the other, so that when one stopped, all were
compelled to stop. Covey, who had become my dread, was at
the house, about a hundred yards from where I was fanning,
and instantly, upon hearing the fan stop, he came down to the
treading yard to inquire into the cause of the stopping. Bill

124 CRUEL TREATMENT.
Smith told him I was sick, and that I was unable longer to
bring wheat to the fan.
I had by this time crawled away under the side of a post-
and-rail fence in the shade, and was exceedingly ill. The
intense heat of the sun, the heavy dust rising from the fan,
the stooping to take up the wheat from the yard, together
with the hurrying to get through, had caused a rush of blood
to my head. In this condition Covey, finding out where I
was, came to me; and after standing over me a while he
asked what the matter was. I told him as well as I could,
for it was with difficulty that I could speak. He gave me a
savage kick in the side which jarred my whole frame, and
commanded me to get up. The monster had obtained complete
control over me, and if he had commanded me to do any pos-
sible thing I should, in my then state of mind, have endeav-
ored to comply. I made an effort to rise, but fell back in the
attempt before gaining my feet. He gave me another heavy
kick, and again told me to rise. I again tried, and succeeded
in standing up; but upon stooping to get the tub with which
I was feeding the fan I again staggered and fell to the ground;
and I must have so fallen had I been sure that a hundred
bullets would have pierced me through as the consequence.
While down in this sad condition, and perfectly helpless, the
merciless negro-breaker took up the hickory slab with which
Hughes had been striking off the wheat to a level with the
sides of the half-bushel measure (a very hard weapon), and
with the edge of it he dealt me a heavy blow on my head
which made a large gash, and caused the blood to run freely,
saying at the same time, “If you have got the headache I'll
cure you.” This done, he ordered me again to rise, but I
made no effort to do so, for I had now made up my mind that
it was useless, and that the heartless villain might do his
worst, he could but kill me and that might put me out of my
misery. Finding me unable to rise, or rather despairing of
my doing so, Covey left me, with a view to getting on with
the work without me. I was bleeding very freely, and my

ESCAPES. 125
face was soon covered with my warm blood. Cruel and mer-
ciless as was the motive that dealt that blow, the wound was
a fortunate one for me. Bleeding was never more efficacious.
The pain in my head speedily abated, and I was soon able to
rise. Covey had, as I have said, left me to my fate, and the
question was, shall I return to my work, or shall I find my
way to St. Michaels and make Capt. Auld acquainted with
the atrocious cruelty of his brother Covey and beseech him to
get me another master Remembering the object he had in
view in placing me under the management of Covey, and
further, his cruel treatment of my poor crippled cousin Henny,
and his meanness in the matter of feeding and clothing his
slaves, there was little ground to hope for a favorable recep-
tion at the hands of Capt. Thomas Auld. Nevertheless, I
resolved to go straight to him, thinking that, if not animated
by motives of humanity, he might be induced to interfere on
my behalf from selfish considerations. “He cannot,” I
thought, “allow his property to be thus bruised and battered,
marred and defaced, and I will go to him about the matter.”
In order to get to St. Michaels by the most favorable and
direct road I must walk seven miles, and this, in my sad con-
dition, was no easy performance. I had already lost much
blood, I was exhausted by over-exertion, my sides were sore
from the heavy blows planted there by the stout boots of Mr.
Covey, and I was in every way in an unfavorable plight for
the journey. I however watched my chance while the cruel
and cunning Covey was looking in an opposite direction, and
started off across the field for St. Michaels. This was a dar-
ing step. If it failed it would only exasperate Covey, and
increase the rigors of my bondage during the remainder of
my term of service under him; but the step was taken, and I
must go forward. I succeeded in getting nearly half way
across the broad field toward the woods, when Covey observed
me. I was still bleeding, and the exertion of running had
started the blood afresh. “ Come back / Come back /?” he
vociferated, with threats of what he would do if I did not
126 HIS SUFFERINGS.
return instantly. But disregarding his calls and threats, I
pressed on toward the woods as fast as my feeble state would
allow. Seeing no signs of my stopping he caused his horse
to be brought out and saddled, as if he intended to pursue me.
The race was now to be an unequal one, and thinking I might
be overhauled by him if I kept the main road I walked nearly
the whole distance in the woods, keeping far enough from the
road to avoid detection and pursuit. But I had not gone far
before my little strength again failed me, and I was obliged
to lie down. The blood was still oozing from the wound in
my head, and for a time I suffered more than I can describe.
There I was in the deep woods, sick and emaciated, pursued
by a wretch whose character for revolting cruelty beggars all
opprobrious speech, bleeding and almost bloodless. I was
not without the fear of bleeding to death. The thought of
dying in the woods all alone, and of being torn in pieces by
the buzzards, had not yet been rendered tolerable by my many
troubles and hardships, and I was glad when the shade of the
trees and the cool evening breeze combined with my matted
hair to stop the flow of blood. After lying there about three-
quarters of an hour brooding over the singular and mournful
lot to which I was doomed, my mind passing over the whole
scale or circle of belief and unbelief, from faith in the over-
ruling Providence of God, to the blackest atheism, I again
took up my journey toward St. Michaels, more weary and sad
than on the morning when I left Thomas Auld's for the home
of Covey. I was bare-footed, bare-headed, and in my shirt
sleeves. The way was through briers and bogs, and I tore
my feet often during the journey. I was full five hours in
going the seven or eight miles; partly because of the difficul-
ties of the way, and partly because of the feebleness induced
by my illness, bruises, and loss of blood.
On gaining my master's store, I presented an appearance of
wretchedness and woe calculated to move any but a heart of
stone. From the crown of my head to the sole of my feet,
there were marks of blood. My hair was all clotted with dust



HIS CHRISTIAN MASTER. 127
and blood, and the back of my shirt was literally stiff with
the same. Briers and thorns had scarred and torn my feet
and legs. Had I escaped from a den of tigers, I could not
have looked worse. In this plight I appeared before my pro-
fessedly Christian master, humbly to invoke the interposition of
his power and authority, to protect me from further abuse and
violence. During the latter part of my tedious journey, I had
begun to hope that my master would now show himself in a
nobler light than I had before seen him. But I was dis-
appointed. I had jumped from a sinking ship into the sea; I
had fled from a tiger to something worse. I told him all the
circumstances, as well as I could : how I was endeavoring to
please Covey; how hard I was at work in the present instance;
how unwillingly I sank down under the heat, toil, and pain;
the brutal manner in which Covey had kicked me in the side,
the gash cut in my head; my hesitation about troubling him
(Capt. Auld) with complaints; but that now I felt it would
not be best longer to conceal from him the outrages committed
on me from time to time. At first Master Thomas seemed
somewhat affected by the story of my wrongs, but he soon
repressed whatever feeling he may have had, and became as
cold and hard as iron. It was impossible, at first, as I stood
before him, to seem indifferent. I distinctly saw his human
nature asserting its conviction against the slave system, which
made cases like mine possible; but, as I have said, humanity
fell before the systematic tyranny of slavery. He first walked
the floor, apparently much agitated by my story, and the
spectacle I presented; but soon it was his turn to talk. He
began moderately by finding excuses for Covey, and ended
with a full justification of him, and a passionate condemna-
tion of me. He had no doubt I deserved the flogging. He
did not believe I was sick; I was only endeavoring to get rid
of work. My dizziness was laziness, and Covey did right to
flog me as he had done. After thus fairly annihilating me,
and arousing himself by his eloquence, he fiercely demanded
what I wished him to do in the case! With such a knock-
128 IS DRIVEN BACK.
down to all my hopes, and feeling as I did my entire subjec-
tion to his power, I had very little heart to reply. I must not
assert my innocence of the allegations he had piled up against
me, for that would be impudence. The guilt of a slave was
always and everywhere presumed, and the innocence of the
slaveholder, or employer, was always asserted. The word of
the slave against this presumption was generally treated as
impudence, worthy of punishment. “Do you dare to contra-
dict me, you rascal ?” was a final silencer of counter-state-
ments from the lips of a slave. Calming down a little, in view
of my silence and hesitation, and perhaps a little touched at
my forlorn and miserable appearance, he inquired again, what
I wanted him to do? Thus invited a second time, I told
him I wished him to allow me to get a new home, and to find
a new master; that as sure as I went back to live again with
Mr. Covey, I should be killed by him; that he would never
forgive my coming home with complaints; that since I had
lived with him he had almost crushed my spirit, and I be-
lieved he would ruin me for future service, and that my life
was not safe in his hands. This Master Thomas (my brother
in the church) regarded as “nonsense.” There was no dan-
ger that Mr. Covey would kill me; he was a good man, indus-
trious and religious; and he would not think of removing me
from that home; “besides,” said he-and this I found was the
most distressing thought of all to him—“if you should leave
Covey now that your year is but half expired, I should lose
your wages for the entire year. You belong to Mr. Covey for
one year, and you must go back to him, come what will; and
you must not trouble me with any more stories; and if you
don't go immediately home, I'll get hold of you myself.” This
was just what I expected when I found he had prejudged the
case against me. “But, sir,” I said, “I am sick and tired,
and I cannot get home to-night.” At this he somewhat
relented, and finally allowed me to stay the night, but said I
must be off early in the morning, and concluded his directions
by making me swallow a huge dose of Epsom salts, which was
about the only medicine ever administered to slaves.



SLAVEHOLDERS LAZY. 129
It was quite natural for Master Thomas to presume I was
feigning sickness to escape work, for he probably thought that
were he in the place of a slave, with no wages for his work,
no praise for well-doing, no motive for toil but the lash, he
would try every possible scheme by which to escape labor. I
say I have no doubt of this; the reason is, that there were
not, under the whole heavens, a set of men who cultivated
such a dread of labor as did the slaveholders. The charge of
laziness against the slaves was ever on their lips, and was the
standing apology for every species of cruelty and brutality.
These men did indeed literally “bind heavy burdens, grievous
to be borne, and laid them upon men's shoulders, but they
themselves would not move them with one of their ſingers.”
CHAPTER XVII.
THE LAST FLOGGING.
A sleepless night—Return to Covey's—Punished by him—The chase de-
feated—Vengeance postponed—Musings in the woods—The alternative—
Deplorable spectacle—Night in the woods—Expected attack—Accosted
by Sandy—A friend, not a master—Sandy's hospitality—The ash-cake
supper—Interview with Sandy–His advice—Sandy a conjurer as well as
a Christian–The magic root–Strange meeting with Covey–His manner
—Covey's Sunday face–Author's defensive resolve–The fight—The vic-
tory, and its results.
C. LEEP does not always come to the relief of the weary
S in body, and broken in spirit; especially is it so when
past troubles only foreshadow coming disasters. My last hope
had been extinguished. My master, who I did not venture to
hope would protect me as a MAN, had now refused to protect
me as his property, and had cast me back, covered with
reproaches and bruises, into the hands of one who was a
stranger to that mercy which is the soul of the religion he
professed. May the reader never know what it is to spend
such a night as was that to me, which heralded my return to
the den of horrors from which I had made a temporary
escape.
I remained—sleep I did not—all night at St. Michaels, and
in the morning (Saturday) I started off, obedient to the order
of Master Thomas, feeling that I had no friend on earth, and
doubting if I had one in heaven. I reached Covey's about
nine o'clock; and just as I stepped into the field, before I had
reached the house, true to his snakish habits, Covey darted
out at me from a fence corner, in which he had secreted him-
self for the purpose of securing me. He was provided with
a cowskin and a rope, and he evidently intended to tie me up,
and wreak his vengeance on me to the fullest extent. I should
(130)


IN THE WOODS. 131
have been an easy prey had he succeeded in getting his hands
upon me, for I had taken no refreshment since noon on Fri-
day; and this, with the other trying circumstances, had greatly
reduced my strength. I, however, darted back into the woods
before the ferocious hound could reach me, and buried myself
in a thicket, where he lost sight of me. The cornfield afforded
me shelter in getting to the woods. But for the tall corn,
Covey would have overtaken me, and made me his captive.
He was much chagrined that he did not, and gave up the
chase very reluctantly, as I could see by his angry movements,
as he returned to the house.
Well, now I am clear of Covey and his lash, for a little
time. I am in the wood, buried in its somber gloom, and
hushed in its solemn silence; hidden from all human eyes,
shut in with nature, and with nature's God, and absent from
all human contrivances. Here was a good place to pray; to
pray for help, for deliverance—a prayer I had often made
before. But how could I pray : Covey could pray–Capt.
Auld could pray. I would fain pray; but doubts arising,
partly from my neglect of the means of grace, and partly from
the sham religion which everywhere prevailed, cast in my mind
a doubt upon all religion, and led me to the conviction that
prayers were unavailing and delusive.
Life in itself had almost become burdensome to me. All my
outward relations were against me; I must stay here and
starve, or go home to Covey's and have my flesh torn to pieces
and my spirit humbled under the cruel lash of Covey. These
were the alternatives before me. The day was long and irk-
some. I was weak from the toils of the previous day, and
from want of food and sleep, and I had been so little con-
cerned about my appearance that I had not yet washed the
blood from my garments. I was an object of horror, even to
myself. Life in Baltimore, when most oppressive, was a para-
dise to this. What had I done, what had my parents done,
that such a life as this should be mine? That day, in the
woods, I would have exchanged my manhood for the brute-
hood of an ox.
132 HE HEARS A STEP.
Night came. I was still in the woods, and still unresolved
what to do. Hunger had not yet pinched me to the point of
going home, and I laid myself down in the leaves to rest; for
I had been watching for hunters all day, but not being mo-
lested by them during the day, I expected no disturbance
from them during the night. I had come to the conclusion
that Covey relied upon hunger to drive me home, and in this
I was quite correct, for he made no effort to catch me after
the morning.
During the night I heard the step of a man in the woods.
He was coming toward the place where I lay. A person lying
still has the advantage over one walking in the woods in the
day-time, and this advantage is much greater at night. I was
not able to engage in a physical struggle, and I had recourse
to the common resort of the weak. I hid myself in the leaves
to prevent discovery. But as the night rambler in the woods
drew nearer I found him to be a friend, not an enemy, a slave
of Mr. William Groomes of Easton, a kind-hearted fellow
named “Sandy.” Sandy lived with Mr. Kemp that year,
about four miles from St. Michaels. He, like myself, had
been hired out that year, but unlike myself had not been hired
out to be broken. He was the husband of a free woman who
lived in the lower part of “Poppie Neck,” and he was now on
his way through the woods to see her and to spend the Sab-
bath with her.
As soon as I had ascertained that the disturber of my soli-
tude was not an enemy, but the good-hearted Sandy—a man
as famous among the slaves of the neighborhood for his good
nature as for his good sense—I came out from my hiding-
place and made myself known to him. I explained the cir-
cumstances of the past two days which had driven me to the
woods, and he deeply compassionated my distress. It was a
bold thing for him to shelter me, and I could not ask him to
do so, for had I been found in his hut he would have suffered
the penalty of thirty-nine lashes on his bare back, if not some-
thing worse. But Sandy was too generous to permit the fear

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HIS OLD FRIEND SANDY. 133
of punishment to prevent his relieving a brother bondman
from hunger and exposure, and therefore, on his own motion,
I accompanied him home to his wife—for the house and lot
were hers, as she was a free woman. It was about midnight,
but his wife was called up, a fire was made, some Indian meal
was soon mixed with salt and water, and an ash-cake was
baked in a hurry, to relieve my hunger. Sandy's wife was
not behind him in kindness; both seemed to esteem it a priv-
ilege to succor me, for although I was hated by Covey and by
my master I was loved by the colored people, because they
thought I was hated for my knowledge, and persecuted be-
cause I was feared. I was the only slave in that region who
could read or write. There had been one other man, belong-
ing to Mr. Hugh Hamilton, who could read, but he, poor fel-
low, had shortly after coming into the neighborhood been
sold off to the far south. I saw him ironed, in the cart, to
be carried to Easton for sale, pinioned like a yearling for the
slaughter. My knowledge was now the pride of my brother
slaves, and no doubt Sandy felt something of the general
interest in me on that account. The supper was soon ready,
and though I have since feasted with honorables, lord mayors,
and aldermen over the sea, my supper on ash-cake and cold
water, with Sandy, was the meal of all my life most sweet to
my taste, and now most vivid to my memory.
Supper over, Sandy and I went into a discussion of what
was possible for me, under the perils and hardships which
overshadowed my path. The question was, must I go back
to Covey, or must I attempt to run away 7 Upon a careful
survey the latter was found to be impossible; for I was on a
narrow neck of land, every avenue from which would bring
me in sight of pursuers. There was Chesapeake Bay to the
right, and “Pot-pie” river to the left, and St. Michaels and
its neighborhood occupied the only space through which
there was any retreat.
I found Sandy an old adviser. He was not only a religious
man, but he professed to believe in a system for which I have
134 A MAGIC ROOT.
no name. He was a genuine African, and had inherited some
of the so-called magical powers said to be possessed by the
eastern nations. He told me that he could help me; that in
those very woods there was an herb which in the morning
might be found, possessing all the powers required for my
protection (I put his words in my own language), and that if
I would take his advice he would procure me the root of the
herb of which he spoke. He told me, further, that if I would
take that root and wear it on my right side it would be impos-
sible for Covey to strike me a blow ; that with this root about
my person no white man could whip me. He said he had
carried it for years, and that he had fully tested its virtues.
He had never received a blow from a slaveholder since he
carried it, and he never expected to receive one, for he meant
always to carry that root for protection. He knew Covey
well, for Mrs. Covey was the daughter of Mrs. Kemp ; and he
(Sandy) had heard of the barbarous treatment to which I had
been subjected, and he wanted to do something for me.
Now all this talk about the root was to me very absurd and
ridiculous, if not positively sinful. I at first rejected the idea
that the simple carrying a root on my right side (a root, by
the way, over which I walked every time I went into the
woods) could possess any such magic power as he ascribed to
it, and I was, therefore, not disposed to cumber my pocket
with it. I had a positive aversion to all pretenders to “divi-
nation.” It was beneath one of my intelligence to counte-
nance such dealings with the devil as this power implied.
But with all my learning—it was really precious little—Sandy
was more than a match for me. “My book-learning,” he
said, “had not kept Covey off me” (a powerful argument
just then), and he entreated me, with flashing eyes, to try
this. If it did me no good it could do me no harm, and it
would cost me nothing any way. Sandy was so earnest and
so confident of the good qualities of this weed that, to please
him, I was induced to take it. He had been to me the good
Samaritan, and had, almost providentially, found me and





HE RETURNS TO COVEY's. 135
helped me when I could not help myself; how did I know but
that the hand of the Lord was in it With thoughts of this
sort I took the roots from Sandy and put them in my right-
hand pocket.
This was of course Sunday morning. Sandy now urged
me to go home with all speed, and to walk up bravely to the
house, as though nothing had happened. I saw in Sandy too
deep an insight into human nature, with all his superstition,
not to have some respect for his advice; and perhaps, too, a
slight gleam or shadow of his superstition had fallen on me.
At any rate, I started off toward Covey's as directed. Having,
the previous night, poured my griefs into Sandy’s ears and
enlisted him in my behalf, having made his wife a sharer in
my sorrows, and having also become well refreshed by sleep
and food, I moved off quite courageously toward the dreaded
Covey's. Singularly enough, just as I entered the yard gate
I met him and his wife, dressed in their Sunday best, looking
as smiling as angels, on their way to church. His manner
perfectly astonished me. There was something really benig-
nant in his countenance. He spoke to me as never before,
told me that the pigs had got into the lot and he wished me
to go to drive them out; inquired how I was, and seemed an
altered man. This extraordinary conduct really made me
begin to think that Sandy's herb had more virtue in it than I,
in my pride, had been willing to allow, and had the day been
other than Sunday I should have attributed Covey's altered
manner solely to the power of the root. I suspected, however,
that the Sabbath, not the root, was the real explanation of the
change. His religion hindered him from breaking the Sab-
bath, but not from breaking my skin on any other day than
Sunday. He had more respect for the day than for the man
for whom the day was mercifully given; for while he would
cut and slash my body during the week, he would on Sunday
teach me the value of my soul, and the way of life and salva-
tion by Jesus Christ.
All went well with me till Monday morning; and then,
7
136 PIOUS COVEY.
whether the root had lost its virtue, or whether my tormentor
had gone deeper into the black art than I had (as was some-
times said of him), or whether he had obtained a special in-
dulgence for his faithful Sunday’s worship, it is not necessary
for me to know or to inform the reader; but this much I may
say, the pious and benignant smile which graced the face of
Covey on Sunday wholly disappeared on Monday.
Long before daylight I was called up to go feed, rub, and
curry the horses. I obeyed the call, as I should have done
had it been made at an earlier hour, for I had brought my
mind to a firm resolve during that Sunday’s reflection to obey
every order, however unreasonable, if it were possible, and if
Mr. Covey should then undertake to beat me to defend and
protect myself to the best of my ability. My religious views
on the subject of resisting my master had suffered a serious
shock by the savage persecution to which I had been subjected,
and my hands were no longer tied by my religion. Master
Thomas' indifference had severed the last link. I had back-
slidden from this point in the slaves' religious creed, and I
soon had occasion to make my fallen state known to my Sun-
day-pious brother, Covey.
While I was obeying his order to feed and get the horses
ready for the field, and when I was in the act of going up
the stable loft, for the purpose of throwing down some
blades, Covey sneaked into the stable, in his peculiar way,
and seizing me suddenly by the leg, he brought me to the
stable-floor, giving my newly-mended body a terrible jar. I
now forgot all about my roots, and remembered my pledge to
stand up in my own defense. The brute was skilfully en-
deavoring to get a slip-knot on my legs, before I could draw
up my feet. As soon as I found what he was up to, I gave a
sudden spring (my two days' rest had been of much service to
me) and by that means, no doubt, he was able to bring me to
the floor so heavily. He was defeated in his plan of tying
me. While down, he seemed to think he had me very securely
in his power. He little thought he was—as the rowdies say


A FIERCE BATTLE. 137
—“in” for a “rough and tumble” fight: but such was the
fact. Whence came the daring spirit necessary to grapple
with a man, who eight-and-forty hours before, could, with his
slightest word, have made me tremble like a leaf in a storm,
I do not know; at any rate I was resolved to fight, and what
was better still, I actually was hard at it. The fighting mad-
ness had come upon me, and I found my strong fingers firmly
attached to the throat of the tyrant, as heedless of conse-
quences, at the moment, as if we stood as equals before the
law. The very color of the man was forgotten. I felt supple
as a cat, and was ready for him at every turn. Every blow
of his was parried, though I dealt no blows in return. I was
strictly on the defensive, preventing him from injuring me,
rather than trying to injure him. I flung him on the ground
several times when he meant to have hurled me there. I
held him so firmly by the throat that his blood followed my
nails. He held me, and I held him.
All was fair thus far, and the contest was about equal. My
resistance was entirely unexpected, and Covey was taken all
aback by it, and he trembled in every limb. “Are you going
to resist, you scoundrel 7’’ said he. To which I returned a
polite “yes, sir,” steadily gazing my interrogator in the eye,
to meet the first approach or dawning of the blow which I
expected my answer would call forth. But the conflict did
not long remain equal. Covey soon cried lustily for help;
not that I was obtaining any marked advantage over him, or
was injuring him, but because he was gaining none over me,
and was not able, single-handed, to conquer me. He called
for his cousin Hughes to come to his assistance, and now the
scene was changed. I was compelled to give blows, as well
as to parry them, and since I was in any case to suffer for
resistance, I felt (as the musty proverb goes) that I “might as
well be hanged for an old sheep as a lamb.” I was still
defensive toward Covey, but aggressive toward Hughes, on
whom at his first approach, I dealt a blow which fairly sick-
ened him. He went off, bending over with pain, and mani-
138 TOO MUCH FOR COVEY.
festing no disposition to come again within my reach. The
poor fellow was in the act of trying to catch and tie my right
hand, and while flattering himself with success, I gave him
the kick which sent him staggering away in pain, at the same
time that I held Covey with a firm hand.
Taken completely by surprise, Covey seemed to have lost
his usual strength and coolness. He was frightened, and
stood puffing and blowing, seemingly unable to command
words or blows. When he saw that Hughes was standing
half bent with pain, his courage quite gone, the cowardly
tyrant asked if I “meant to persist in my resistance.” I told
him I “did mean to resist, come what might; that I had been
treated like a brute during the last six months, and that I should
stand it no longer.” With that he gave me a shake, and
attempted to drag me toward a stick of wood that was lying
just outside the stable door. He meant to knock me down
with it, but just as he leaned over to get the stick, I seized
him with both hands, by the collar, and with a vigorous and
sudden snatch, I brought my assailant harmlessly, his full
length, on the not over clean ground, for we were now in the
cow-yard. He had selected the place for the fight, and it was
but right that he should have all the advantages of his own
selection.
By this time Bill, the hired man, came home. He had been
to Mr. Helmsley's to spend Sunday with his nominal wife.
Covey and I had been at skirmishing from before daybreak
till now, and the sun was now shooting his beams almost over
the eastern woods, and we were still at it. I could not see
where the matter was to terminate. He evidently was afraid
to let me go, lest I should again make off to the woods, other-
wise he would probably have obtained arms from the house
to frighten me. Holding me, he called upon Bill to assist him.
The scene here had something comic about it. Bill, who
knew precisely what Covey wished him to do, affected ignor-
ance, and pretended he did not know what to do. “What
shall I do, Master Covey tº said Bill. “Take hold of him –













HE APPEALS TO CAROLINE. 139
take hold of him 1" said Covey. With a toss of his head,
peculiar to Bill, he said, “indeed Master Covey, I want to go
to work.” “This is your work,” said Covey; “take hold of
him.” Bill replied, with spirit: “My master hired me here to
work, and not to help you whip Frederick.” It was my turn
to speak. “Bill,” said I, “don’t put your hands on me.” To
which he replied: “My God, Frederick, I ain't goin’ to tech
ye;” and Bill walked off leaving Covey and myself to settle
our differences as best we might.
But my present advantage was threatened when I saw Car-
oline (the slave woman of Covey) coming to the cow-yard to
milk, for she was a powerful woman, and could have mastered
me easily, exhausted as I was. -
As soon as she came near, Covey attempted to rally her to
his aid. Strangely, and fortunately, Caroline was in no humor
to take a hand in any such sport. We were all in open rebel-
lion that morning. Caroline answered the command of her
master “to take hold of me,” precisely as Bill had done, but
in her it was at far greater peril, for she was the slave of
Covey, and he could do what he pleased with her. It was not
so with Bill, and Bill knew it. Samuel Harris, to whom Bill
belonged, did not allow his slaves to be beaten, unless they
were guilty of some crime which the law would punish. But
poor Caroline, like myself, was at the mercy of the merciless
Covey, nor did she escape the dire effects of her refusal: he
gave her several sharp blows.
At length (two hours had elapsed) the contest was given
over. Letting go of me, puffing and blowing at a great rate,
Covey said: “Now, you scoundrel, go to your work; I would
not have whipped you half so hard if you had not resisted.”
The fact was, he had not whipped me at all. He had not in
all the scuffle, drawn a single drop of blood from me. I had
drawn blood from him, and should even without this satisfac-
tion have been victorious, because my aim had not been to
injure him, but to prevent his injuring me.
During the whole six months I lived with Covey after this
140 TURNING POINT IN THE AUTHOR'S LIFE.
transaction, he never again laid the weight of his finger on
me in anger. He would occasionally say he did not want to
have to get hold of me again—a declaration which I had no
difficulty in believing ; and I had a secret feeling which an-
swered, “you had better not wish to get hold of me again, for
you will be likely to come off worse in a second fight than
you did in the first.” -
Well, my dear reader, this battle with Mr. Covey, undigni-
fied as it was, and as I fear my narration of it is, was the
turning-point in my “life as a slave.” It rekindled in my
breast the smouldering embers of liberty; it brought up my
Baltimore dreams, and revived a sense of my own manhood.
I was a changed being after that fight. I was nothing before;
I was a man now. It recalled to life my crushed self-respect,
and my self-confidence, and inspired me with a renewed
determination to be a free man. A man without force is
without the essential dignity of humanity. Human nature
is so constituted, that it cannot honor a helpless man, though
it can pity him, and even this it cannot do long if signs of
power do not arise.
He only can understand the effect of this combat on my
spirit, who has himself incurred sounething, hazarded some-
thing, in repelling the unjust and cruel aggressions of a tyrant.
Covey was a tyrant, and a cowardly one withal. After resist-
ing him, I felt as I never felt before. It was a resurrection
from the dark and pestiferous tomb of slavery, to the heaven of
comparative freedom. I was no longer a servile coward,
trembling under the frown of a brother worm of the dust, but
my long-cowed spirit was roused to an attitude of independ-
ence. I had reached the point at which I was not afraid to
die. This spirit made me a freeman in fact, though I still
remained a slave in form. When a slave cannot be flogged,
he is more than half free. He has a domain as broad as his
own manly heart to defend, and he is really “a power on
earth.” From this time until my escape from slavery, I was
never fairly whipped. Several attempts were made, but they



A BOY OF SIXTEEN. 141
were always unsuccessful. Bruises I did get, but the instance I
have described was the end of the brutification to which slav-
ery had subjected me.
The reader may like to know why, after I had so grievously
offended Mr. Covey, he did not have me taken in hand by the
authorities; indeed, why the law of Maryland, which assigned
hanging to the slave who resisted his master, was not put in
force against me; at any rate why I was not taken up, as was
usual in such cases, and publicly whipped, as an example to
other slaves, and as a means of deterring me from committing
the same offense again. I confess that the easy manner in
which I got off was always a surprise to me, and even now I
cannot fully explain the cause, though the probability is that
Covey was ashamed to have it known that he had been mas-
tered by a boy of sixteen. He enjoyed the unbounded and
very valuable reputation of being a first-rate overseer and
negro-breaker, and by means of this reputation he was able
to procure his hands at very trifling compensation and with
very great ease. His interest and his pride would mutually
suggest the wisdom of passing the matter by in silence. The
story that he had undertaken to whip a lad and had been re-
sisted, would of itself be damaging to him in the estimation
of slaveholders.
It is perhaps not altogether creditable to my natural temper
that after this conflict with Mr. Covey I did, at times, pur-
posely aim to provoke him to an attack, by refusing to keep
with the other hands in the field, but I could never bully him
to another battle. I was determined on doing him serious
damage if he ever again attempted to lay violent hands on me.
“Hereditary bondmen know ye not
Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow 3"
CHAPTER XVIII.
NEW RELATIONS AND DUTIES.
Change of masters–Benefits derived by change—Fame of the fight with
Covey–Reckless unconcern–Author's abhorrence of slavery–Ability to
read a cause of prejudice–The holidays—How spent–Sharp hit at
slavery–Effects of holidays–Difference between Covey and Freeland–
An irreligious master preferred to a religious one–Hard life at Covey's
useful to the author—Improved condition does not bring contentment—
Congenial society at Freeland's—Author's Sabbath-school—Secresy neces-
sary—Affectionate relations of tutor and pupils–Confidence and friend-
ship among slaves–Slavery the inviter of vengeance.
Y term of service with Edward Covey expired on
Christmas day, 1834. I gladly enough left him, al-
though he was by this time as gentle as a lamb. My home
for the year 1835 was already secured, my next master se-
lected. There was always more or less excitement about the
changing of hands, but I had become somewhat reckless and
cared little into whose hands I fell, determined to fight my
way. The report got abroad that I was hard to whip, that I
was guilty of kicking back, that though generally a good-
natured negro, I sometimes “got the devil in me.” These
sayings were rife in Talbot County, and they distinguished
me among my servile brethren. Slaves would sometimes
fight with each other, and even die at each other's hands, but
there were very few who were not held in awe by a white
man. Trained from the cradle up to think and feel that their
masters were superior, and invested with a sort of sacredness,
there were few who could rise above the control which that
sentiment exercised. I had freed myself from it, and the
thing was known. One bad sheep will spoil a whole flock.
I was a bad sheep. I hated slavery, slaveholders, and all
pertaining to them; and I did not fail to inspire others with

(142)

HOW HOLIDAYS WERE KEPT. 143
the same feeling wherever and whenever opportunity was pre-
sented. This made me a marked lad among the slaves, and
a suspected one among slaveholders. A knowledge of my
ability to read and write got pretty widely spread, which was
very much against me.
The days between Christmas day and New Year's were
allowed the slaves as holidays. During these days all regular
work was suspended, and there was nothing to do but to keep
fires and look after the stock. We regarded this time as our
own by the grace of our masters, and we therefore used it or
abused it as we pleased. Those who had families at a dis-
tance were expected to visit them and spend with them the
entire week. The younger slaves or the unmarried ones were
expected to see to the cattle, and to attend to incidental duties
at home. The holidays were variously spent. The sober,
thinking, industrious ones would employ themselves in man-
ufacturing corn brooms, mats, horse collars, and baskets, and
some of these were very well made. Another class spent
their time in hunting opossums, coons, rabbits, and other
game. But the majority spent the holidays in sports, ball-
playing, wrestling, boxing, running foot-races, dancing, and
drinking whiskey; and this latter mode was generally most
agreeable to their masters. A slave who would work during
the holidays was thought by his master undeserving of holi-
days. There was in this simple act of continued work an
accusation against slaves, and a slave could not help thinking
that if he made three dollars during the holidays he might
make three hundred during the year. Not to be drunk during
the holidays was disgraceful.
The fiddling, dancing, and “jubilee beating” was carried
on in all directions. This latter performance was strictly
southern. It supplied the place of violin, or of other musical
instruments, and was played so easily that almost every farm
had its “Juba’ beater. The performer improvised as he beat
the instrument, marking the words as he sang so as to have
them fall pat with the movement of his hands. Among a
7 *
144 THE SLAVE's FARE.
mass of nonsense and wild frolic, once in a while a sharp hit
was given to the meanness of slaveholders. Take the follow-
ing for example:
We raise de wheat, We peel de meat,
Dey gibus de corn ; Dey gibus de skin;
We bake de bread, And dat's de way
Dey gibus de crust; Dey take us in ;
We sif de meal, We skim depot,
Dey gibus de huss; Dey give us de liquor,
And say dat's good enough for nigger.
Walk over! Walk over!
Your butter and de fat;
Poor nigger you cant get over dat.
Walk over–
This is not a bad summary of the palpable injustice and
fraud of slavery, giving, as it does, to the lazy and idle the
comforts which God designed should be given solely to the
honest laborer. But to the holidays. Judging from my own
observation and experience, I believe those holidays were
among the most effective means in the hands of slaveholders
of keeping down the spirit of insurrection among the slaves.
To enslave men successfully and safely it is necessary to
keep their minds occupied with thoughts and aspirations short
of the liberty of which they are deprived. A certain degree
of attainable good must be kept before them. These holidays
served the purpose of keeping the minds of the slaves occu-
pied with prospective pleasure within the limits of slavery.
The young man could go wooing, the married man to see his
wife, the father and mother to see their children, the indus-
trious and money-loving could make a few dollars, the great
wrestler could win laurels, the young people meet and enjoy
each other's society, the drunken man could get plenty of
whiskey, and the religious man could hold prayer-meetings,
preach, pray, and exhort. Before the holidays there were
pleasures in prospect; after the holidays they were pleasures
of memory, and they served to keep out thoughts and wishes
of a more dangerous character. These holidays were also


GUARDING SLAVES. 145
sort of conductors or safety-valves, to carry off the explosive
elements inseparable from the human mind when reduced to
the condition of slavery. But for these the rigors of bondage
would have become too severe for endurance, and the slave
would have been forced up to dangerous desperation.
Thus they became a part and parcel of the gross wrongs
and inhumanity of slavery. Ostensibly they were institutions
of benevolence designed to mitigate the rigors of slave life,
but practically they were a fraud instituted by human selfish-
ness, the better to secure the ends of injustice and oppression.
The slave's happiness was not the end sought, but the mas-
ter's safety. It was not from a generous unconcern for the
slave's labor, but from a prudent regard for the slave system.
I am strengthened in this opinion from the fact that most slave-
holders liked to have their slaves spend the holidays in such
manner as to be of no real benefit to them. Everything like
rational enjoyment was frowned upon, and only those wild
and low sports peculiar to semi-civilized people were encour-
aged. The license allowed appeared to have no other object than
to disgust the slayes with their temporary freedom, and to make
them as glad to return to their work as they were to leave it.
I have known slave-holders resort to cunning tricks, with a
view of getting their slaves deplorably drunk. The usual
plan was to make bets on a slave that he could drink more
whisky than any other, and so induce a rivalry among them
for the mastery in this degradation. The scenes brought
about in this way were often scandalous and loathsome in the
extreme. Whole multitudes might be found stretched out in
brutal drunkenness, at once helpless and disgusting. Thus,
when the slave asked for hours of “virtuous liberty,” his cun-
ning master took advantage of his ignorance and cheered him
with a dose of vicious and revolting dissipation artfully labeled
with the name of “liberty.”
We were induced to drink, I among the rest, and when the
holidays were over we all staggered up from our filth and
wallowing, took a long breath, and went away to our various
146 WILLIAM FREELAND.
fields of work, feeling, upon the whole, rather glad to go from
that which our masters had artfully deceived us into the belief
was freedom, back again to the arms of slavery. It was not
what we had taken it to be, nor what it would have been, had
it not been abused by us. It was about as well to be a slave
to master, as to be a slave to whisky and rum. When the
slave was drunk the slaveholder had no fear that he would
plan an insurrection, no fear that he would escape to the North.
It was the sober, thoughtful slave who was dangerous, and
needed the vigilance of his master to keep him a slave. But
to proceed with my narrative.
On the first of January, 1835, I proceeded from St. Michaels
to Mr. William Freeland's—my new home. Mr. Freeland
lived only three miles from St. Michaels, on an old, worn-out
farm, which required much labor to render it anything like a
self-supporting establishment. -
I found Mr. Freeland a different man from Covey. Though
not rich, he was what might have been called a well-bred
Southern gentleman. Though a slaveholder and sharing in
common with them many of the vices of his class, he seemed
alive to the sentiment of honor, and had also some sense of
justice, and some feelings of humanity. He was fretful, im-
pulsive, and passionate, but free from the mean and selfish
characteristics which distinguished the creature from which I
had happily escaped. Mr. Freeland was open, frank, impera-
tive, and practiced no concealments, and disdained to play the
spy; in all these qualities the opposite of Covey.
My poor weather-beaten bark now reached smoother water
and gentler breezes. My stormy life at Covey's had been of
service to me. The things that would have seemed very hard
had I gone direct to Mr. Freeland's from the home of Master
Thomas were now “trifles light as air.” I was still a field-
hand, and had come to prefer the severe labor of the field to
the enervating duties of a house-servant. I had become large
and strong, and had begun to take pride in the fact that I
could do as much hard work as some of the older men. There


RIVALRY AMONG SLAVES. 147
was much rivalry among slaves at times as to which could do
the most work, and masters generally sought to promote such
rivalry. But some of us were too wise to race with each other
very long. Such racing, we had the sagacity to see, was not
likely to pay. We had our times for measuring each other's
strength, but we knew too much to keep up the competition
so long as to produce an extraordinary day's work. We knew
that if by extraordinary exertion a large quantity of work
was done in one day, becoming known to the master, it might
lead him to require the same amount every day. This thought
was enough to bring us to a dead halt when ever so much
excited for the race.
At Mr. Freeland's my condition was every way inproved.
I was no longer the scapegoat that I was when at Covey's,
where every wrong thing done was saddled upon me, and
where other slaves were whipped over my shoulders. Bill
Smith was protected by a positive prohibition, made by his
rich master (and the command of the rich slaveholder was
law to the poor one). Hughes was favored by his relationship
to Covey, and the hands hired temporarily escaped flogging.
I was the general pack-horse; but Mr. Freeland held every
man individually responsible for his own conduct. Mr. Free-
land, like Mr. Covey, gave his hands enough to eat, but, unlike
Mr. Covey, he gave them time to take their meals. He worked
us hard during the day, but gave us the night for rest. We
were seldom in the field after dark in the evening, or before
sunrise in the morning. Our implements of husbandry were
of the most improved pattern, and much superior to those
used at Covey's.
Notwithstanding all the improvement in my relations, not-
withstanding the many advantages I had gained by my new
home and my new master, I was still restless and discon-
tented. I was about as hard to please by a master as a mas-
ter is by a slave. The freedom from bodily torture and
unceasing labor had given my mind an increased sensibility,
and imparted to it greater activity. I was not yet exactly in
148 AT HIS OLD TRICKS.
right relations. “Howbeit, that was not first which is spirit-
ual, but that which is natural, and afterward that which is
spiritual.” When entombed at Covey's, shrouded in darkness
and physical wretchedness, temporal well-being was the grand
desideratum ; but, temporal wants supplied, the spirit puts in
its claims. Beat and cuff your slave, keep him hungry and
spiritless, and he will follow the chain of his master like a
dog ; but feed and clothe him well, work him moderately, sur-
round him with physical comfort, and dreams of freedom -
intrude. Give him a bad master, and he aspires to a good
master; give him a good master and he wishes to become his
own master. Such is human nature. You may hurl a man
so low beneath the level of his kind, that he loses all just
ideas of his natural position, but elevate him a little, and the
clear conception of rights rises to life and power, and leads
him onward. Thus elevated a little at Freeland's, the dreams
called into being by that good man, Father Lawson, when in
Baltimore, began to visit me again; shoots from the tree of
liberty began to put forth buds, and dim hopes of the future
began to dawn. -
I found myself in congenial society. There were Henry
Harris, John Harris, Handy Caldwell, and Sandy Jenkins
(this last, of the root-preventive memory.)
Henry and John Harris were brothers, and belonged to Mr. -
Freeland. They were both remarkably bright and intelligent,
though neither of them could read. Now for mischief! I
had not been long here before I was up to my old tricks. I
began to address my companions on the subject of education,
and the advantages of intelligence over ignorance, and, as far
as I dared, I tried to show the agency of ignorance in keeping
men in slavery. Webster's spelling-book and the Columbian
Orator were looked into again. As summer came on, and the
long Sabbath days stretched themselves over our idleness, I
became uneasy, and wanted a Sabbath-school, where to exer-
cise my gifts, and to impart the little knowledge I possessed
to my brother-slaves. A house was hardly necessary in the


CLASS LEADERS. 149
summer time; I could hold my school under the shade of an
old oak tree as well as anywhere else. The thing was to get the
scholars, and to have them thoroughly imbued with the desire
to learn. Two such boys were quickly found in Henry and
John, and from them the contagion spread. I was not long
in bringing around me twenty or thirty young men, who en-
rolled themselves gladly in my Sabbath-school, and were will-
ing to meet me regularly under the trees or elsewhere, for the
purpose of learning to read. It was surprising with what
ease they provided themselves with spelling-books. These were
mostly the cast-off books of their young masters or mistresses.
I taught at first on our own farm. All were impressed with
the necessity of keeping the matter as private as possible, for
the fate of the St. Michaels attempt was still fresh in the
minds of all. Our pious masters at St. Michaels must not
know that a few of their dusky brothers were learning to read
the Word of God, lest they should come down upon us with
the lash and chain. We might have met to drink whisky, to
wrestle, fight, and to do other unseemly things, with no fear
of interruption from the saints or the sinners of St. Michaels.
But to meet for the purpose of improving the mind and heart,
by learning to read the sacred scriptures, was a nuisance to
be instantly stopped. The slaveholders there, like slavehold-
ers elsewhere, preferred to see the slaves engaged in degrad-
ing sports, rather than acting like moral and accountable
beings. Had any one asked a religious white man in St.
Michaels at that time the names of three men in that town
whose lives were most after the pattern of our Lord and Mas-
ter Jesus Christ, the reply would have been: Garrison West,
class-leader, Wright Fairbanks, and Thomas Auld, both also
class-leaders; and yet these men ferociously rushed in upon
my Sabbath-school, armed with mob-like missiles, and forbade
our meeting again on pain of having our backs subjected to
the bloody lash. This same Garrison West was my class-
leader, and I had thought him a Christian until he took part
in breaking up my school. He led me no more after that.
The plea for this outrage was then, as it is always, the
150 EXCEPTIONS TO GENERAL RULES.
tyrant's plea of necessity. If the slaves learned to read they
would learn something more and something worse. The
peace of slavery would be disturbed ; slave rule would be
endangered. I do not dispute the soundness of the reasoning.
If slavery were right, Sabbath-schools for teaching slaves to
read were wrong, and ought to have been put down. These
christian class-leaders were, to this extent, consistent. They
had settled the question that slavery was right, and by that
standard they determined that Sabbath-schools were wrong.
To be sure they were Protestant, and held to the great prot-
estant right of every man to “search the Scriptures” for him-
self; but then, to all general rules there are exceptions. How
convenient What crimes may not be committed under such
ruling ! But my dear class-leading Methodist brethren did
not condescend to give me a reason for breaking up the school
at St. Michaels; they had determined its destruction, and
that was enough. However, I am digressing.
After getting the school nicely started a second time, hold-
ing it in the woods behind the barn, and in the shade of trees,
I succeeded in inducing a free colored man who lived several
miles from our house to permit me to hold my school in a
room at his house. He incurred much peril in doing so, for
the assemblage was an unlawful one. I had at one time more
than forty scholars, all of the right sort, and many of them
succeeded in learning to read. I have had various employ-
ments during my life, but I look back to none with more sat-
isfaction. An attachment, deep and permanent, sprung up
between me and my persecuted pupils, which made my part-
ing from them intensely painful.
Besides my Sunday-school, I devoted three evenings a week
to my other fellow slaves during the winter. Those dear
souls who came to my Sabbath-school came not because it
was popular or reputable to do so, for they came with a liabil-
ity of having forty stripes laid on their naked backs. In this
Christian country men and women were obliged to hide in
barns and woods and trees from professing Christians, in
order to learn to read the Holy Bible. Their minds had been



A BAND OF BROTHERS. 151
cramped and starved by their cruel masters; the light of edu.
cation had been completely excluded, and their hard earnings
had been taken to educate their master's children. I felt a
delight in circumventing the tyrants, and in blessing victims
of their curses.
The year at Mr. Freeland’s passed off very smoothly, to
outward seeming. Not a blow was given me during the whole
year. To the credit of Mr. Freeland, irreligious though he
was, it unust be stated that he was the best master I ever had
until I became my own master and assumed for myself, as I
had a right to do, the responsibility of my own existence and
the exercise of my own powers.
For much of the happiness, or absence of misery, with
which I passed this year, I am indebted to the genial temper
and ardent friendship of my brother slaves. They were every
one of them manly, generous, and brave; yes, I say they
were brave, and I will add fine looking. It is seldom the lot
of any to have truer and better friends than were the slaves
on this farm. It was not uncommon to charge slaves with
great treachery toward each other, but I must say I never
loved, esteemed, or confided in men more than I did in these.
They were as true as steel, and no band of brothers could be
more loving. There were no mean advantages taken of each
other, no tattling, no giving each other bad names to Mr.
Freeland, and no elevating one at the expense of the other.
We never undertook anything of any importance which was
likely to affect each other, without mutual consultation. We
were generally a unit, and moved together. Thoughts and
sentiments were exchanged between us which might well have
been considered incendiary had they been known by our mas-
ters. The slave-holder, were he kind or cruel, was a slave-
holder still, the every-hour-violator of the just and inalienable
rights of man, and he was therefore every hour silently but
surely whetting the knife of vengeance for his own throat.
He never lisped a syllable in commendation of the fathers of
this republic without inviting the sword, and asserting the
right of rebellion for his own slaves.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE RUNAWAY PLOT.
New Year's thoughts and meditations—Again hired by Freeland–Kindness
no compensation for slavery—Incipient steps toward escape—Considera-
tions leading thereto–Hostility to slavery—Solemn vow taken–Plan
divulged to slaves—Columbian Orator again—Scheme gains favor–Dan-
ger of discovery–Skill of slave-holders—Suspicion and coercion—Hymns
with double meaning—Consultation–Pass-word–Hope and fear—Ignor-
ance of Geography—Imaginary difficulties—Patrick Henry–Sandy a
dreamer–Route to the north mapped out-Objections—Frauds–Passes
—Anxieties—Fear of failure—Strange presentiment—Coincidence—Be-
trayal—Arrests–Resistance—Mrs. Freeland–Prison–Brutal jests—
Passes eaten–Denial—Sandy–Dragged behind horses—Slave-traders–
Alone in prison–Sent to Baltimore.
| AM now at the beginning of the year 1836, when the mind
naturally occupies itself with the mysteries of life in all
its phases—the ideal, the real, and the actual. Sober people
look both ways at the beginning of a new year, surveying the
errors of the past, and providing against the possible errors
of the future. I, too, was thus exercised. I had little pleas-
ure in retrospect, and the future prospect was not brilliant.
“Notwithstanding,” thought I, “the many resolutions and
prayers I have made in behalf of freedom, I am, this first
day of the year 1836, still a slave, still wandering in the
depths of a miserable bondage. My faculties and powers of
body and soul are not my own, but are the property of a fel-
low-mortal in no sense superior to me, except that he has the
physical power to compel me to be owned and controlled by
him. By the combined physical force of the community I
am his slave—a slave for life.” With thoughts like these I
was chafed and perplexed, and they rendered me gloomy and
disconsolate. The anguish of my mind cannot be written.
At the close of the year, Mr. Freeland renewed the pur-











(152)

REFLECTIONS ON HIS SITUATION. 153
chase of my services of Mr. Auld for the coming year. His
promptness in doing so would have been flattering to my
vanity had I been ambitious to win the reputation of being a
valuable slave. Even as it was, I felt a slight degree of com-
placency at the circumstance. It showed him to be as well
pleased with me as a slave as I with him as a master. But
the kindness of the slave-master only gilded the chain, it de-
tracted nothing from its weight or strength. The thought
that men are made for other and better uses than slavery
throve best under the gentle treatment of a kind master. Its
grim visage could assume no smiles able to fascinate the par-
tially enlightened slave into a forgetfulness of his bondage,
or of the desirableness of liberty.
I was not through the first month of my second year with
the kind and gentlemanly Mr. Freeland before I was earnestly
considering and devising plans for gaining that freedom
which, when I was but a mere child, I had ascertained to be
the natural and inborn right of every member of the human
family. The desire for this freedom had been benumbed
while I was under the brutalizing dominion of Covey, and it
had been postponed and rendered inoperative by my truly
pleasant Sunday-school engagements with my friends during
the year at Mr. Freeland's. It had, however, never entirely
subsided. I hated slavery always, and my desire for freedom
needed only a favorable breeze to fan it to a blaze at any
moment. The thought of being only a creature of the present
and the past troubled me, and I longed to have a future—a
future with hope in it. To be shut up entirely to the past
and present is to the soul whose life and happiness is unceas-
ing progress—what the prison is to the body—a blight and
mildew, a hell of horrors. The dawning of this, another
year, awakened me from my temporary slumber, and roused
into life my latent but long-cherished aspirations for freedom.
I became not only ashamed to be contented in slavery, but
ashamed to seem to be contented, and in my present favorable
condition under the mild rule of Mr. Freeland, I am not sure
154 DETERMINED TO ACT.
that some kind reader will not condemn me for being over-
ambitious, and greatly wanting in humility, when I say the
truth, that I now drove from me all thoughts of making the
best of my lot, and welcomed only such thoughts as led me
away from the house of bondage. The intensity of my desire
to be free, quickened by my present favorable circumstances,
brought me to the determination to act as well as to think
and speak. Accordingly, at the beginning of this year 1836,
I took upon me a solemn vow, that the year which had just
now dawned upon me should not close without witnessing an
earnest attempt, on my part, to gain my liberty. This vow
only bound me to make good my own individual escape, but
my friendship for my brother-slaves was so affectionate and
confiding that I felt it my duty, as well as my pleasure, to
give them an opportunity to share in my determination.
Toward Henry and John Harris I felt a friendship as strong
as one man can feel for another, for I could have died with
and for them. To them, therefore, with suitable caution, I
began to disclose my sentiments and plans, sounding them
the while on the subject of running away, provided a good
chance should offer. I need not say that I did my very best
to imbue the minds of my dear friends with my own views
and feelings. Thoroughly awakened now, and with a definite
vow upon me, all my little reading which had any bearing on
the subject of human rights was rendered available in my
communications with my friends. That gem of a book, the
Columbian Orator, with its eloquent orations and spicy dia-
logues denouncing oppression and slavery–telling what had
been dared, done, and suffered by men, to obtain the inesti-
mable boon of liberty, was still fresh in my memory, and
whirled into the ranks of my speech with the aptitude of well-
trained soldiers going through the drill. I here began my
public speaking. I canvassed with Henry and John the sub-
ject of slavery, and dashed against it the condemning brand
of God's eternal justice. My fellow-servants were neither
indifferent, dull, nor inapt. Our feelings were more alike



TOO BIG FOR HIS CHAINS. 155
than our opinions. All, however, were ready to act when a
feasible plan should be proposed. “Show us how the thing
is to be done.” said they, “and all else is clear.”
We were all, except Sandy, quite clear from slaveholding
priesteraft. It was in vain that we had been taught from the
pulpit at St. Michaels the duty of obedience to our masters;
to recognize God as the author of our enslavement; to regard
running away an offense, alike against God and man; to deem
our enslavement a merciful and beneficial arrangement; to
esteem our condition in this country a paradise to that from
which we had been snatched in Africa : to consider our hard
hands and dark color as God’s displeasure, and as pointing us
out as the proper subjects of slavery; that the relation of
master and slave was one of reciprocal benefits; that our
work was not more serviceable to our masters than our mas-
ter's thinking was to us. I say it was in vain that the pulpit
of St. Michaels had constantly inculcated these plausible doc-
trines. Nature laughed them to scorn. For my part, I had
become altogether too big for my chains. Father Lawson's
solemn words of what I ought to be, and what I might be in the
providence of God, had not fallen dead on my soul. I was
fast verging toward manhood, and the prophesies of my child-
hood were still unfulfilled. The thought that year after year
had passed away, and my best resolutions to run away had
failed and faded, that I was still a slave, with chances for
gaining my freedom diminished and still diminishing—was not
a matter to be slept over easily. But here came a trouble.
Such thoughts and purposes as I now cherished could not
agitate the mind long without making themselves manifest to
scrutinizing and unfriendly observers. I had reason to fear
that my sable face might prove altogether too transparent for
the safe concealment of my hazardous enterprise. Plans of
great moment have leaked through stone walls, and revealed
their projectors. But here was no stone wall to hide my pur-
pose. I would have given my poor tell-tale face for the im-
movable countenance of an Indian, for it was far from proof
against the daily searching glances of those whom I met.
156 SLAVEHOLDERS ON THE LOOKOUT.
It was the interest and business of slaveholders to study
human nature, and the slave nature in particular, with a view
to practical results; and many of them attained astonishing
proficiency in this direction. They had to deal not with
earth, wood, and stone, but with men ; and by every regard
they had for their safety and prosperity they had need to
know the material on which they were to work. So much
intellect as the slaveholder had round him required watching.
Their safety depended on their vigilance. Conscious of the
injustice and wrong they were every hour perpetrating, and
knowing what they themselves would do if they were victims
of such wrongs, they were constantly looking out for the first
signs of the dread retribution. They watched, therefore, with
skilled and practiced eyes, and learned to read, with great
accuracy, the state of mind and heart of the slave through
his sable face. Unusual sobriety, apparent abstraction, sullen-
ness, and indifference,—indeed, any mood out of the common
way.-afforded ground for suspicion and inquiry. Relying
on their superior position and wisdom, they would often hec-
tor the slave into a confession by affecting to know the truth
of their accusations. “You have got the devil in you, and
we'll whip him out of you,” they would say. I have often
been put thus to the torture on bare suspicion. This system
had its disadvantages as well as its opposite—the slave being
sometimes whipped into the confession of offenses which he
never committed. It will be seen that the good old rule, “A man
is to be held innocent until proved to be guilty,” did not hold
good on the slave plantation. Suspicion and torture were the
approved methods of getting at the truth there. It was nec-
essary, therefore, for me to keep a watch over my deportment,
lest the enemy should get the better of me. But with all our
caution and studied reserve, I am not sure that Mr. Freeland
did not suspect that all was not right with us. It did seem
that he watched us more narrowly after the plan of escape
had been conceived and discussed amongst us. Men seldom
see themselves as others see them ; and while to ourselves


WHIPPING THE DEVIL OUT OF HIM. 157
everything connected with our contemplated escape appeared
concealed, Mr. Freeland may, with the peculiar prescience of
a slaveholder, have mastered the huge thought which was dis-
turbing our peace. As I now look back, I am the more in-
clined to think he suspected us, because, prudent as we were,
I can see that we did many silly things very well calculated
to awaken suspicion. We were at times remarkably buoyant,
singing hymns, and making joyous exclamations, almost as
triumphant in their tone as if we had reached a land of free-
dom and safety. A keen observer might have detected in our
repeated singing of
“O Canaan, sweet Canaan,
I am bound for the land of Canaan,”
something more than a hope of reaching heaven. We meant
to reach the Worth, and the North was our Canaan.
“I thought I heard them say
There were lions in the way;
I don't expect to stay
Much longer here.
Tun to Jesus, shun the danger–
I don't expect to stay
Much longer here,”
was a favorite air, and had a double meaning. In the lips of
some it meant the expectation of a speedy summons to a
world of spirits; but in the lips of our company, it simply
meant a speedy pilgrimage to a free State, and deliverance
from all the evils and dangers of slavery.
I had succeeded in winning to my scheme a company of five
young men, the very flower of the neighborhood, each one of
whom would have commanded one thousand dollars in the
home market. At New Orleans they would have brought
fifteen hundred dollars apiece, and perhaps more. Their names
were as follows: Henry Harris, John Harris, Sandy J enkins,
Charles Roberts, and Henry Bailey. I was the youngest but
one of the party. I had, however, the advantage of them all
in experience, and in a knowledge of letters. This gave me

158 I AM THE MAN.
a great influence over them. Perhaps not one of them, left
to himself, would have dreamed of escape as a possible thing.
They all wanted to be free, but the serious thought of running
away had not entered into their minds until I won them to
the undertaking. They all were tolerably well off—for slaves
—and had dim hopes of being set free some day by their mas-
ters. If any one is to blame for disturbing the quiet of the
slaves and slave-masters of the neighborhood of St. Michaels,
I AM THE MAN. I claim to be the instigator of the high crime
(as the slaveholders regarded it), and I kept life in it till life
could be kept in it no longer.
Pending the time of our contemplated departure out of our
Egypt, we met often by night, and on every Sunday. At these
meetings we talked the matter over, told our hopes and fears,
and the difficulties discovered or imagined; and, like men of
sense, we counted the cost of the enterprise to which we were
committing ourselves. These meetings must have resembled,
on a small scale, the meetings of the revolutionary conspira-
tors in their primary condition. We were plotting against
our (so-called) lawful rulers, with this difference—we sought
our own good, and not the harm of our enemies. We did not
seek to overthrow them, but to escape from them. As for Mr.
Freeland, we all liked him, and would gladly have remained
with him as free men. Liberty was our aim, and we had now.
come to think that we had a right to it against every obstacle,
even against the lives of our enslavers. -
We had several words, expressive of things important to
us, which we understood, but which, even if distinctly beard
by an outsider, would have conveyed no certain meaning. I
hated this secresy, but where slavery was powerful, and liberty
weak, the latter was driven to concealment or destruction.
The prospect was not always bright. At times we were
almost tempted to abandon the enterprise, and to try to get
back to that comparative peace of mind which even a man
under the gallows might feel when all hope of escape had van-
ished. We were confident, bold, and determined, at times,

DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY. 159
and again doubting, timid, and wavering, whistling, like the
boy in the grave-yard, to keep away the spirits.
To look at the map and observe the proximity of Eastern
shore, Maryland, to Delaware and Pennsylvania, it may seem
to the reader quite absurd to regard the proposed escape as a
formidable undertaking. But to understand, some one has
said, a man must stand under. The real distance was great
enough, but the imagined distance was, to our ignorance,
much greater. Slaveholders sought to impress their slaves
with a belief in the boundlessness of slave territory, and of
their own limitless power. Our notions of the geography
of the country were very vague and indistinct. The distance,
however, was not the chief trouble, for the nearer the Iines
of a slave state to the borders of a free state the greater was
the trouble. Hired kidnappers infested the borders. Then,
too, we knew that merely reaching a free state did not free
us, that wherever caught we could be returned to slavery. We
knew of no spot this side the ocean where we could be safe.
We had heard of Canada, then the only real Canaan of the
American bondman, simply as a country to which the wild
goose and the swan repaired at the end of winter to escape
the heat of summer, but not as the home of man. I knew
something of Theology, but nothing of Geography. I really
did not know that there was a state of New York or a state
of Massachusetts. I had heard of Pennsylvania, Delaware,
and New Jersey, and all the southern states, but was utterly
ignorant of the free states. New York City was our northern
limit, and to go there and to be forever harassed with the
liability of being hunted down and returned to slavery, with
the certainty of being treated ten times worse than ever be
fore, was a prospect which might well cause some hesitation.
The case sometimes, to our excited visions, stood thus: At
every gate through which we had to pass we saw a watchman;
at every ferry a guard; on every bridge a sentinel, and in
every wood a patrol or slave-hunter. We were hemmed in on
every side. The good to be sought and the evil to be shunned
8
160 STUDYING GEOGRAPHY.
were flung in the balance and weighed against each other.
On the one hand stood slavery, a stern reality glaring fright-
fully upon us, with the blood of millions in its polluted skirts,
terrible to behold, greedily devouring our hard earnings and
feeding it upon our flesh. This was the evil from which to
escape. On the other hand, far away, back in the hazy dis-
tance, where all forms seemed but shadows under the ſlicker-
ing light of the north star, behind some craggy hill or snow-
capped mountain, stood a doubtful freedom, half frozen,
be koning us to her icy domain. This was the good to be
sought. The inequality was as great as that between certainty
and uncertainty. This in itself was enough to stagger us;
but when we came to survey the untrodden road and conjec-
ture the many possible difficulties we were appalled, and at
times, as I have said, were upon the point of giving over the
struggle altogether. The reader can have little idea of the
phantoms which would flit, in such circumstances, before the
uneducated mind of the slave. Upon either side we saw grim
death, assuming a variety of horrid shapes. Now it was star-
vation, causing us, in a strange and friendless land, to eat our
own flesh. Now we were contending with the waves and
were drowned. Now we were hunted by dogs and overtaken,
and torn to pieces by their merciless fangs. We were stung
by scorpions, chased by wild beasts, bitten by snakes, and
worst of all, after having succeeded in swimming rivers,
encountering wild beasts, sleeping in the woods, suffering
hunger, cold, heat, and nakedness, overtaken by hired kid-
mappers, who in the name of law and for the thrice-cursed
reward would, perchance, fire upon us, kill some, wound
others, and capture all. This dark picture, drawn by igno-
rance and fear, at times greatly shook our determination, and
not unfrequently caused us to
“Rather bear the ills we had,
Than flee to others which we knew not of.”
I am not disposed to magnify this circumstance in my experi-
ence, and yet I think I shall seem to be so disposed to the
-


LIBERTY OR DEATH. 161
reader, but no man can tell the intense agony which was felt
by the slave when wavering on the point of making his escape.
All that he has is at stake, and even that which he has not is
at stake also. The life which he has may be lost, and the
liberty which he seeks may not be gained.
Patrick Henry, to a listening senate which was thrilled by
his magic eloquence and ready to stand by him in his boldest
flights, could say, “Give me liberty or give me death,” and
this saying was a sublime one, even for a freeman; but in-
comparably more sublime is the same sentiment when pract.
cally asserted by men accustomed to the lash and chain, men
whose sensibilities must have become more or less deadened
by their bondage. With us it was a doubtful liberty, at best,
that we sought, and a certain lingering death in the rice
swamps and sugar fields if we failed. Life is not lightly re-
garded by men of sane minds. It is precious both to the
pauper and to the prince, to the slave and to his master; and
yet I believe there was not one among us who would not
rather have been shot down than pass away life in hopeless
bondage.
In the progress of our preparations Sandy (the root man)
became troubled. He began to have distressing dreams.
One of these, which happened on a Friday night, was to him
of great significance, and I am quite ready to confess that I
felt somewhat damped by it myself. He said, “I dreamed
last night that I was roused from sleep by strange noises like
the noises of a swarm of angry birds that caused a roar as
they passed, and which fell upon my ear like a coming gale
over the tops of the trees. Looking up to see what it could
mean I saw you, Frederick, in the claws of a huge bird, sur-
rounded by a large number of birds of all colors and sizes.
These were all pecking at you, while you, with your arms,
seemed to be trying to protect your eyes. Passing over me,
the birds flew in a southwesterly direction, and I watched
them until they were clean out of sight. Now I saw this as
plainly as I now see you; and furder, honey, watch de Friday
-
162 SANDY's DREAM.
night dream; dare is sumpon in it shose you born; dare is
indeed, honey.” I did not like the dream, but I showed no
concern, attributing it to the general excitement and pertur-
bation consequent upon our contemplated plan to escape. I
could not, however, shake off its effect at once. I felt that it
boded no good. Sandy was unusually emphatic and oracular,
and his manner had much to do with the impression made
upon me.
The plan which I recommended, and to which my comrades
consented, for our escape, was to take a large canoe owned
by Mr. Hamilton, and on the Saturday night previous to the
Easter holidays launch out into the Chesapeake bay and pad-
dle for its head, a distance of seventy miles, with all our
might. On reaching this point we were to turn the canoe
adrift and bend our steps toward the north startill we reached
a free state.
There were several objections to this plan. In rough
weather the waters of the Chesapeake are much agitated, and
there would be danger, in a canoe, of being swamped by the
waves. Another objection was that the canoe would soon be
missed, the absent slaves would at once be suspected of having
taken it, and we should be pursued by some of the fast-sailing
craft out of St. Michaels. Then again, if we reached the
head of the bay and turned the canoe adrift, she might prove
a guide to our track and bring the hunters after us.
These and other objections were set aside by the stronger
ones, which could be urged against every other plan that could
then be suggested. On the water we had a chance of being
regarded as fishermen, in the service of a master. On the
other hand, by taking the land route, through the counties
adjoining Delaware, we should be subjected to all manner of
interruptions, and many disagreeable questions, which might
give us serious trouble. Any white man, if he pleased, was
authorized to stop a man of color on any road, and examine
and arrest him. By this arrangement many abuses (consid:
ered such even by slaveholders) occurred. Cases have been



GIVES THEM A PASS. 163
known where freemen, being called upon to show their free
papers by a pack of ruffians, and on the presentation of the
papers, the ruffians have torn them up, and seized the victim
and sold him to a life of endless bondage.
The week before our intended start, I wrote a pass for each
of our party, giving them permission to visit Baltimore during
the Easter holidays. The pass ran after this manner:
“This is to certify that I, the undersigned, have given the
bearer, my servant John, full liberty to go to Baltimore to
spend the Easter holidays. W. H.
NEAR ST, MICHAELs, Talbot Co., Md.”
Although we were not going to Baltimore, and were intend-
ing to land east of North Point, in the direction I had seen
the Philadelphia steamers go, these passes might be useful to
us in the lower part of the bay, while steering towards Balti-
more. These were not, however, to be shown by us, until all
other answers failed to satisfy the inquirer. We were all fully
alive to the importance of being calm and self-possessed when
accosted, if accosted we should be ; and we more than once
rehearsed to each other how we should behave in the hour of
trial. -
Those were long, tedious days and nights. The suspense
was painful in the extreme. To balance probabilities, where
life and liberty hang on the result, requires steady nerves. I
panted for action, and was glad when the day, at the close of
which we were to start, dawned upon us. Sleeping the night
before was out of the question. I probably felt more deeply
than any of my companions, because I was the instigator of
the movement. The responsibility of the whole enterprise
rested on my shoulders. The glory of success, and the shame
and confusion of failure, could not be matters of indifference
to me. Our food was prepared, our clothes were packed; we
were all ready to go, and impatient for Saturday morning–
considering that the last of our bondage.
I cannot describe the tempest and tumult of my brain that
morning. The reader will please bear in mind that in a slave
164 ANXIOUS DAYS.
State an unsuccessful runaway was not only subjected to cruel
torture, and sold away to the far South, but he was frequently
execrated by the other slaves. He was charged with making
the condition of the other slaves intolerable by laying them
all under the suspicion of their masters—subjecting them to
greater vigilance, and imposing greater limitations on their
privileges. I dreaded murmurs from this quarter. It was
difficult, too, for a slave-master to believe that slaves escaping
had not been aided in their flight by some one of their fellow-
slaves. When, therefore, a slave was missing, every slave on
the place was closely examined as to his knowledge of the
undertaking.
Our anxiety grew more and more intense, as the time of our
intended departure drew nigh. It was truly felt to be a mat-
ter of life and death with us, and we fully intended to fight,
as well as run, if necessity should occur for that extremity.
But the trial hour had not yet come. It was easy to resolve,
but not so easy to act. I expected there might be some draw-
ing back at the last; it was natural there should be ; there.
fore, during the intervening time, I lost no opportunity to
explain away difficulties, remove doubts, dispel fears, and
inspire all with firmness. It was too late to look back, and
now was the time to go forward. I appealed to the pride of
my comrades by telling them that if after having solemnly
promised to go, as they had done, they now failed to make the
attempt, they would in effect brand themselves with coward.
ice, and might well sit down, fold their arms, and acknowl-
edge themselves fit only to be slaves. This detestable char-
acter all were unwilling to assume. Every man except Sandy
(he, much to our regret, withdrew) stood firm, and at our last
meeting we pledged ourselves afresh, and in the most solemn
manner, that at the time appointed we would certainly start
on our long journey for a free country. This meeting was in
the middle of the week, at the end of which we were to start.
Early on the appointed morning we went as usual to the
field, but with hearts that beat quickly and anxiously. Any


MATTER of LIFE AND DEATH. 165
one intimately acquainted with us might have seen that all
was not well with us, and that some monster lingered in our
thoughts. Our work that morning was the same as it had
been for several days past—drawing out and spreading
manure. While thus engaged, I had a sudden presentiment,
which flashed upon me like lightning in a dark night, reveal-
ing to the lonely traveler the gulf before and the enemy
behind. I instantly turned to Sandy Jenkins, who was near
me, and said: “Sandy, we are betrayed/ something has just
told me so.” I felt as sure of it as if the officers were in sight.
Sandy said: “Man, dat is strange; but I feel just as you do.”
If my mother—then long in her grave—had appeared before
me and told me that we were betrayed, I could not at that
moment have felt more certain of the fact.
In a few minutes after this, the long, low, and distant notes
of the horn summoned us from the field to breakfast. I felt
as one may be supposed to feel before being led forth to be
executed for some great offense. I wanted no breakfast, but
I went with the other slaves toward the house for form's sake.
My feelings were not disturbed as to the right of running
away; on that point I had no misgiving whatever, but from
a sense of the consequences of failure.
In thirty minutes after that vivid impression came the
apprehended crash. On reaching the house, and glancing my
eye toward the lane gate, the worst was at once made known.
The lane gate to Mr. Freeland's house was nearly half a mile
from the door, and much shaded by the heavy wood which
bordered the main road. I was, however, able to descry four
White men and two colored men approaching. The white men
were on horseback, and the colored men were walking behind,
and seemed to be tied. “It is indeed all over ºff, as , 206 are
surely betrayed,” I thought to myself. I became composed,
or at least comparatively so, and calmly awaited the result. I
watched the ill-omened company entering the gate. Success-
ful flight was impossible, and I made up my mind to stand and
meet the evil, whatever it might be, for I was not altogether
-
166 THREE CONSTABLES APPEAR.
without a slight hope that things might turn differently from
what I had at first feared. In a few moments in came Mr.
William Hamilton, riding very rapidly and evidently much
excited. He was in the habit of riding very slowly, and was
seldom known to gallop his horse. This time his horse was
nearly at full speed, causing the dust to roll thick behind him.
Mr. Hamilton, though one of the most resolute men in the
whole neighborhood, was, nevertheless, a remarkably mild-
spoken man, and, even when greatly excited, his language was
cool and circumspect. He came to the door, and inquired if
Mr. Freeland was in 7 I told him that Mr. Freeland was at
the barn. Off the old gentleman rode toward the barn, with
unwonted speed. In a few moments Mr. Hamilton and Mr.
Freeland came down from the barn to the house, and just as
they made their appearance in the front-yard three men, who
proved to be constables, came dashing into the lane on horse-
back, as if summoned by a sign requiring quick work. A few
seconds brought them into the front-yard, where they hastily
dismounted and tied their horses. This done, they joined Mr.
Freeland and Mr. Hamilton, who were standing a short dis-
tance from the kitchen. A few moments were spent as if in
consulting how to proceed, and then the whole party walked up
to the kitchen door. There was now no one in the kitchen but
myself and John Harris; Henry and Sandy were yet in the
barn. Mr. Freeland came inside the kitchen door, and with
an agitated voice called me by name, and told me to come
forward, that there were some gentlemen who wished to see
me. I stepped toward them at the door, and asked what they
wanted; when the constables grabbed me, and told me that
I had better not resist; that I had been in a scrape, or was
said to have been in one; that they were merely going to take
me where I could be examined; that they would have me
brought before my master at St. Michaels, and if the evidence
against me was not proved true I should be acquitted. I was
now firmly tied, and completely at the mercy of my captors.
Resistance was idle. They were five in number, armed to the



A BRAVE FELLOW. 167
teeth. When they had secured me, they turned to John Har-
ris, and in a few moments succeeded in tying him as firmly as
they had tied me. They next turned toward Henry Harris,
who had now returned from the barn. “Cross your hands.”
said the constable to Henry. “I won't.” said Henry, in a
voice so firm and clear, and in a manner so determined, as for
a moment to arrest all proceedings. “Won't you cross your
hands?” said Tom Graham, the constable. “No, I won't.”
said Henry, with increasing emphasis. Mr. Hamilton, Mr.
Freeland, and the officers now came near to Henry. Two of
the constables drew out their shining pistols, and swore, by
the name of God, that he should cross his hands or they
would shoot him down. Each of these hired ruſſians now
cocked their pistols, and, with ſingers apparently on the trig.
gers, presented their deadly weapons to the breast of the
unarmed slave, saying, if he did not cross his hands, they
would “blow his d d heart out of him.” “Shoot me, shoot
me,” said Henry; “you can't kill me but once. Shoot, shoot,
and be damned I won't be tied ’’ This the brave follow
said in a voice as defiant and heroic in its tone as was the
language itself; and at the moment of saying this, with the
pistols at his very breast, he quickly raised his arms, and
dashed them from the puny hands of his assassins, the
weapons flying in all directions. Now came the struggle. All
hands rushed upon the brave fellow, and after beating him
for some time they succeeded in overpowering and tying him.
Henry put me to shame; he fought, and fought bravely. John
and I had made no resistance. The fact is, I never saw much
use of fighting where there was no reasonable probability of
whipping anybody. Yet there was something almost provi-
dential in the resistance made by Henry. But for that resist-
ance every soul of us would have been hurried off to the
far South. Just a moment previous to the trouble with Henry,
Mr. Hamilton mildly said, and this gave me the unmistaka-
ble clue to the cause of our arrest—“Perhaps we had now
better make gº for those protections, which we under-
168 DRAGGED TO PRISON.
stand Frederick has written for himself and the rest.” Had
these passes been found, they would have been point-blank
proof against us, and would have confirmed all the statements
of our betrayer. Thanks to the resistance of Henry, the
excitement produced by the scuffle drew all attention in that
direction, and I succeeded in flinging my pass, unobserved,
into the fire. The confusion attendant on the scuffle, and the
apprehension of still further trouble, perhaps, led our captors
to forego, for the time, any search for “those protections which
Frederick was said to have written for his companions; ” so
we were not yet convicted of the purpose to run away, and it
was evident that there was some doubt on the part of all
whether we had been guilty of such purpose.
Just as we were all completely tied, and about ready to
start toward St. Michaels, and thence to jail, Mrs. Betsey
Freeland (mother to William, who was much attached, after
the Southern fashion, to Henry and John, they having been
reared from childhood in her house) came to the kitchen door
with her hands full of biscuits, for we had not had our break-
fast that morning, and divided them between Henry and John.
This done, the lady made the following parting address to me,
pointing her bony finger at me: “You devil! you yellow
devil! It was you who put it into the heads of Henry and
John to run away. But for you, you long-legged, yellow devil,
Henry and John would never have thought of running away.”
I gave the lady a look which called forth from her a scream
of mingled wrath and terror, as she slammed the kitchen door
and went in, leaving me, with the rest, in hands as harsh as
her own broken voice. -
Could the kind reader have been riding along the main road
to or from Easton that morning, his eye would have met a
painful sight. He would have seen five young men, guilty of
no crime save that of preferring liberty to slavery, drawn along
the public highway—firmly bound together, tramping through
dust and heat, bare-footed and bare-headed—fastened to three
strong horses, whose riders were armed with pistols and dag-

|
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º
-
-
ſº
hº
% s
§
º
N
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DRIVEN TO JAIL FOR RUNNING Away.



MORAL VULTURES. 169
gers, on their way to prison like felons, and suffering every
possible insult from the crowds of idle, vulgar people, who
clustered round, and heartlessly made their failure to escape
the occasion for all manner of ribaldry and sport. As I
looked upon this crowd of vile persons, and saw myself and
friends thus assailed and persecuted, I could not help seeing
the fulfilment of Sandy's dream. I was in the hands of moral
vultures, and held in their sharp talous, and was being hurried
away toward Easton, in a southeasterly direction, amid the
jeers of new birds of the same feather, through every neigh-
borhood we passed. It seemed to me that everybody was out,
and knew the cause of our arrest, and awaited our passing in
order to feast their vindictive eyes on our misery.
Some said “ſought to be hanged; " and others, “I ought to
be burned; ” others I ought to have the “hide” taken off my
back; while no one gave us a kind word or sympathizing
look, except the poor slaves who were lifting their heavy hoes,
and who cautiously glanced at us through the post-and-rail
fences, behind which they were at work. Our sufferings that
morning can be more easily imagined than described. Our
hopes were all blasted at one blow. The cruel injustice, the
victorious crime, and the helplessness of innocence, led me to
ask in my ignorance and weakness: Where is now the God of
justice and mercy and why have these wicked men the power
thus to trample upon our rights, and to insult our feelings?
and yet in the next moment came the consoling thought, “the
day of the oppressor will come at last.” Of one thing I could
be glad: not one of my dear friends upon whom I had brought
this great calamity, either by word or look, reproached me
for having led them into it. We were a band of brothers,
and never dearer to each other than now. The thought which
gave us the most pain was the probable separation which
would now take place in case we were sold off to the far South,
as we were likely to be. While the constables were looking
forward, Henry and I, being fastened together, could occasion-
ally exchange a word without being observed by the kidnap-
170 WHO BETRAYED THEM 2
pers who had us in charge. “What shall I do with my pass?”
said Henry. “Eat it with your biscuit,” said I; “it won’t do
to tear it up.” We were now near St. Michaels. The direc-
tion concerning the passes was passed around, and executed.
“Own nothing,” said I. “Own nothing” was passed round,
enjoined, and assented to. Our confidence in each other was
unshaken, and we were quite resolved to succeed or fail
together; as much after the calamity which had befallen us
as before.
On reaching St. Michaels we underwent a sort of examina-
tion at my master's store, and it was evident to my mind that
Master Thomas suspected the truthfulness of the evidence
upon which they had acted in arresting us, and that he only
affected, to some extent, the positiveness with which he as-
serted our guilt. There was nothing said by any of our com-
pany which could, in any manner, prejudice our cause, and
there was hope yet that we should be able to return to our
homes, if for nothing else, at least to find out the guilty man
or woman who betrayed us.
To this end we all denied that we had been guilty of in-
tended flight. Master Thomas said that the evidence he had
of our intention to run away was strong enough to hang us
in a case of murder. “But,” said I, “the cases are not equal;
if murder were committed,—the thing is done but we have
not run away. Where is the evidence against us? We were
quietly at our work.” I talked thus, with unusual freedom,
to bring out the evidence against us, for we all wanted, above
all things, to know who had betrayed us, that we might
have something tangible on which to pour our execrations.
From something which dropped, in the course of the talk,
it appeared that there was but one witness against us, and
that that witness could not be produced. Master Thomas
would not tell us who his informant was, but we sus-
pected, and suspected one person only. Several circum- -
stances seemed to point Sandy out as our betrayer. His
entire knowledge of our plans, his participation in them, his



PUT IN JAIL. 171
withdrawal from us, his dream and his simultaneous present-
iment that we were betrayed, the taking us and the leaving
him, were calculated to turn suspicion toward him, and yet
we could not suspect him. We all loved him too well to think
it possible that he could have betrayed us. So we rolled the
guilt on other shoulders.
We were literally dragged, that morning, behind horses, a
distance of fifteen miles, and placed in the Easton jail. We
were glad to reach the end of our journey, for our pathway
had been full of insult and mortification. Such is the power
of public opinion that it is hard, even for the innocent, to
feel the happy consolations of innocence when they fall under
the maledictions of this power. How could we regard our-
selves as in the right, when all about us denounced us as
criminals, and had the power and the disposition to treat us
as such.
In jail we were placed under the care of Mr. Joseph Gra-
ham, the sheriff of the county. Henry and John and myself
were placed in one room, and Henry Bailey and Charles Rob-
erts in another by themselves. This separation was intended
to deprive us of the advantage of concert, and to prevent
trouble in jail.
Once shut up, a new set of tormentors came upon us. A
swarm of imps in human shape—the slave-traders and agents
of slave-traders—who gathered in every country town of the
state watching for chances to buy human flesh (as buzzards
watch for carrion), flocked in upon us to ascertain if our mas-
ters had placed us in jail to be sold. Such a set of debased
and villainous creatures I never saw before and hope never to
See again. I felt as if surrounded by a pack of fiends fresh
from perdition. They laughed, leered, and grinned at us,
saying, “Ah, boys, we have got you, havn't we? So you were
about to make your escape? Where were you going to?”
After taunting us in this way as long as they liked they one
by one subjected us to an examination, with a view to ascer-
tain our value, feeling our arms and legs and shaking us by
172 BUZZARDS ABOUT.
the shoulders, to see if we were sound and healthy, impu-
dently asking us, “how we would like to have them for mas.
ters : " To such questions we were quite dumb (much to
their annoyance). One fellow told me, “if he had me he
would cut the devil out of me pretty quick.”
These negro-buyers were very offensive to the genteel
southern Christian public. They were looked upon in respect-
able Maryland society as necessary but detestable characters.
As a class, they were hardened ruffians, made such by nature
and by occupation. Yes, they were the legitimate fruit of
slavery, and were second in villainy only to the slaveholders
themselves who made such a class possible. They were mere
hucksters of the slave produce of Maryland and Virginia–
coarse, cruel, and swaggering bullies, whose very breathing
was of blasphemy and blood.
Aside from these slave-buyers who infested the prison from
time to time, our quarters were much more comfortable than
we had any right to expect them to be. Our allowance of
food was small and coarse, but our room was the best in the
jail—neat and spacious, and with nothing about it necessarily
reminding us of being in prison but its heavy locks and bolts
and the black iron lattice work at the windows. We were
prisoners of state compared with most slaves who were put
into that Easton jail. But the place was not one of content-
ment. Bolts, bars, and grated windows are not acceptable to
freedom-loving people of any color. The suspense, too, was
painful. Every step on the stairway was listened to, in the hope
that the comer would cast a ray of light on our fate. We would
have given the hair of our heads for half a dozen words with
one of the waiters in Sol. Lowe's hotel. Such waiters were
in the way of hearing, at the table, the probable course of
things. We could see them flitting about in their white
jackets in front of this hotel, but could speak to none of
them.
Soon after the holidays were over, contrary to all our ex-
pectations, Messrs. Hamilton and Freeland came up to Easton;


LEFT ALONE IN PRISON. 17.3
not to make a bargain with the “Georgia traders,” nor to
send us up to Austin Woldfolk, as was usual in the case of
runaway-slaves, but to release Charles Henry Harris, Henry
Bailey, and John Harris from prison, and this, too, without
the infliction of a single blow. I was left alone in prison.
The innocent had been taken and the guilty left. My friends
were separated from me, and apparently forever. This cir-
cumstance caused me more pain than any other incident con-
nected with our capture and imprisonment. Thirty-nine
lashes on my naked and bleeding back would have been joy-
fully borne, in preference to this separation from these, the
friends of my youth. And yet I could not but feel that I
was the victim of something like justice. Why should these
young men, who were led into this scheme by me, suffer as
much as the instigator I felt glad that they were released
from prison, and from the dread prospect of a life (or death
I should rather say) in the rice swamps. It is due to the
noble Henry to say that he was almost as reluctant to leave
the prison with me in it as he had been to be tied and dragged
to prison. But he and we all knew that we should, in all the
likelihoods of the case, be separated, in the event of being
sold; and since we were completely in the hands of our
owners they concluded it would be best to go peaceably home.
Not until this last separation, dear reader, had I touched
those profounder depths of desolation which it is the lot of
slaves often to reach. I was solitary and alone within the
walls of a stone prison, left to a fate of life-long misery. I
had hoped and expected much, for months before, but my hopes
and expectations were now withered and blasted. The ever
dreaded slave life in Georgia, Louisiana, and Alabama, from
which escape was next to impossible—now in my loneliness
stared me in the face. The possibility of ever becoming any-
thing but an abject slave, a mere machine in the hands of an
owner, had now fled, and it seemed to me it had fled forever,
A life of living death, beset with the innumerable horrors of
the cotton field and the sugar plantation, seemed to be my
174 HOPES AND EXPECTATIONS BLASTED.
doom. The fiends who rushed into the prison when we were
first put there continued to visit me and ply me with questions
and tantalizing remarks. I was insulted, but helpless; keenly
alive to the demands of justice and liberty, but with no means
of asserting them. To talk to those imps about justice or
mercy would have been as absurd as to reason with bears and
tigers. Lead and steel were the only arguments that they
were capable of appreciating, as the events of the subsequent
years have proved.
After remaining in this life of misery and despair about
a week, which seemed a month, Master Thomas, very much
to my surprise and greatly to my relief, came to the prison
and took me out, for the purpose, as he said, of sending
me to Alabama with a friend of his, who would emanci-
pate me at the end of eight years. I was glad enough to
get out of prison, but I had no faith in the story that his -
friend would emancipate me. Besides, I had never heard of
his having a friend in Alabama, and I took the announcement
simply as an easy and comfortable method of shipping me off
to the far south. There was a little scandal, too, connected
with the idea of one Christian selling another to the Georgia
traders, while it was deemed every way proper for them to
sell to others. I thought this friend in Alabama was an in-
vention to meet this difficulty, for Master Thomas was quite
jealous of his religious reputation, however unconcerned he
might have been about his real Christian character. In these
remarks it is possible I do him injustice. He certainly did
not exert his power over me as he might have done in the
case, but acted, upon the whole, very generously, considering
the nature of my offense. He had the power and the provo-
cation to send me, without reserve, into the very everglades
of Florida, beyond the remotest hope of emancipation; and
his refusal to exercise that power must be set down to his
credit.
After lingering about St. Michaels a few days and no friend
from Alabama appearing, Master Thomas decided to send me






RELEASED AND SENT TO BALTIMORE. 175
back again to Baltimore, to live with his brother Hugh, with
whom he was now at peace; possibly he became so by his
profession of religion at the camp-meeting in the Bay side.
Master Thomas told me he wished me to go to Baltimore and
learn a trade; and that if I behaved myself properly he would
emancipate me at twenty-five. Thanks for this one beam of
hope in the future. The promise had but one fault—it seemed
too good to be true.
CHAPTER YX.
APPRENTICESHIP LIFE.
Nothing lost in my attempt to run away—Comrades at home-Reasons for
sending me away—Return to Baltimore–Tommy changed–Caulking in
Gardiner's ship yard–Desperate fight—Its causes–Conflict between white
and black labor—Outrage—Testimony—Master Hugh—Slavery in Balti
more–My condition improves–New associations—Slaveholder's right to
the slave's wages—How to make a discontented slave.
\ ELL, dear reader, I am not, as you have probably in-
ferred, a loser by the general upstir described in the
foregoing chapter. The little domestic revolution, notwith-
standing the sudden snub it got by the treachery of somebody,
did not, after all, end so disastrously as when in the iron cage
at Easton I conceived it would. The prospect from that point
did look about as dark as any that ever cast its gloom over
the vision of the anxious, out-looking human spirit. “All's
well that ends well!” My affectionate friends, Henry and
John Harris, are still with Mr. Freeland. Charles Roberts
and Henry Bailey are safe at their homes. I have not, there-
fore, anything to regret on their account. Their masters have
mercifully forgiven them, probably on the ground suggested
in the spirited little speech of Mrs. Freeland made to me just
before leaving for the jail. My friends had nothing to regret,
either: for while they were watched more closely, they were
doubtless treated more kindly than before, and got new assur-
ances that they should some day be legally emancipated, pro-
vided their behavior from that time forward should make
them deserving. Not a blow was struck any one of them.
As for Master Freeland, good soul, he did not believe we were
intending to run away at all. Having given—as he thought
—no occasion to his boys to leave him, he could not think it
probable that they had entertained a design so grievous.







(176)

ALL’s WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 177
This, however, was not the view taken of the matter by “ Mas’
Billy,” as we used to call the soft-spoken but crafty and reso-
lute Mr. William Hamilton. He had no doubt that the crime
had been meditated, and regarding me as the instigator of it,
he frankly told Master Thomas that he must remove me from
that neighborhood or he would shoot me. He would not have
one so dangerous as “Frederick” tampering with his slaves.
William Hamilton was not a man whose threat might be
safely disregarded. I have no doubt he would have proved
as good as his word, had the warning given been disregarded.
He was furious at the thought of such a piece of high-handed
theft as we were about to perpetrate—the stealing of our own
bodies and souls. The feasibility of the plan, too, could the
first steps have been taken, was marvelously plain. Besides,
this was a new idea, this use of the Bay. Slaves escaping,
until now, had taken to the woods; they had never dreamed
of profaning and abusing the waters of the noble Chesapeake
by making them the highway from slavery to freedom. Here
was a broad road leading to the destruction of slavery, which
had hitherto been looked upon as a wall of security by the
slaveholders. But Master Billy could not get Mr. Freeland
to see matters precisely as he did, nor could he get Master
Thomas excited as he was. The latter, I must say it to his
credit, showed much humane feeling, and atoned for much
that had been harsh, cruel, and unreasonable in his former
treatment of me and of others. My “Cousin Tomº told me
that while I was in jail Master Thomas was very unhappy,
and that the night before his going up to release me he had
walked the floor nearly all night, evincing great distress; that
very tempting offers had been made to him by the negro-
traders, but he had rejected them all, saying that money could
not tempt him to sell me to the far south. I can easily believe
all this, for he seemed quite reluctant to send me away at all.
He told me that he only consented to do so because of the
Very strong prejudice against me in the neighborhood, and
that he feared for my safety if I remained there.
178 THOMAS AULD, JUNIOR.
Thus after three years spent in the country, roughing it in
the field, and experiencing all sorts of hardships, I was again
permitted to return to Baltimore, the very place of all others,
short of a free State, where I most desired to live. The three
years spent in the country had made some difference in me,
and in the household of Master Hugh. “Little Tommy’ was
no longer little Tommy; and I was not the slender lad who
had left the Eastern Shore just three years before. The low-
ing relations between Master Tommy and myself were broken
up. He was no longer dependent on me for protection, but
felt himself a man, with other and more suitable associates. In
childhood he had considered me scarely inferior to himself—
certainly quite as good as any other boy with whom he played
—but the time had come when his friend must be his slave.
So we were cold to each other, and parted. It was a sad thing
to me, that loving each other as we had done, we must now
take different roads. To him a thousand avenues were open.
Education had made him acquainted with all the treasures of
the world, and liberty had flung open the gates thereunto;
but I, who had attended him seven years, had watched over
him with the care of a big brother, fighting his battles in the
street, and shielding him from harm to an extent which
induced his mother to say, “Oh, Tommy is always safe when
he is with Freddy’—I must be confined to a single condition.
He had grown and become a man: I, though grown to the stature
of manhood, must all my life remain a minor—a mere boy.
Thomas Auld, junior, obtained a situation on board the brig
Tweed, and went to sea. I have since heard of his death.
There were few persons to whom I was more sincerely
attached than to him.
Very soon after I went to Baltimore to live, Master Hugh
succeeded in getting me hired to Mr. William Gardiner, an
extensive ship-builder on Fell’s Point. I was placed there to
learn to calk, a trade of which I already had some knowledge,
gained while in Mr. Hugh Auld's ship-yard. Gardiner's, how-
ever, proved a very unfavorable place for the accomplishment




SHIP BUILDING. 179
of the desired object. Mr. Gardiner was that season engaged
in building two large man-of-war vessels, professedly for the
Mexican government. These vessels were to be launched in
the month of July of that year, and in failure thereof Mr.
Gardiner would forfeit a very considerable sum of money. So
when I entered the ship-yard, all was hurry and driving.
There were in the yard about one hundred men; of these, seventy
or eighty were regular carpenters—privileged men. There was
no time for a raw hand to learn anything. Every man had
to do that which he knew how to do, and in entering the yard
Mr. Gardiner had directed me to do whatever the carpenters
told me to do. This was placing me at the beck and call of
about seventy-five men. I was to regard all these as my mas-
ters. Their word was to be my law. My situation was a try-
ing one. I was called a dozen ways in the space of a
single minute. I needed a dozen pairs of hands. Three
or four voices would strike my ear at the same moment. It
was “Fred, come help me to cant this timber here,”—“Fred,
come carry this timber yonder,”—“Fred, bring that roller
here,”—“Fred, go get a fresh can of water,”—“Fred, come
help saw off the end of this timber,”—“Fred go quick and
get the crow-bar,”—“Fred, hold on the end of this fall,”—
“Fred, go to the blacksmith's shop and get a new punch,”—
“Halloo, Fred run and bring me a cold-chisel,”—“I say, Fred,
bear a hand, and get up a fire under the steam-box as quick
as lightning.”—“Hullo, nigger! come turn this grindstone,”
-“Come, come; move, move and loºse this timber forward,”
—“I sº darkey, blast your eyes! why don't you heat up
SOIºne pitch *”—“Halloo! halloo! halloo! (three voices at the
same time)”—“ Come here; go there; hold on where you
. D n you, if you move I'll knock your brains out !”
such, º dear reader, is a glance at the school which was
". during the first eight months of my stay at Gardiner's
"..." At the end of eight mºnths Master Hugh refused
ger t0 allow me to remain with Gardiner. The circum-
stances which led to this refusal was the committing of an
180 CONFLICT OF SLAVERY AND WHITE LABOR.
outrage upon me, by the white apprentices of the ship-yard.
The fight was a desperate one, and I came out of it shockingly
mangled. I was cut and bruised in sundry places, and my
left eye was nearly knocked out of its socket. The facts
which led to this brutal outrage upon me, illustrate a phase
of slavery which was destined to become an important ele-
ment in the overthrow of the slave system, and I may therefore
state them with some minuteness. That phase was this—the
conflict of slavery with the interests of white mechanics and
laborers. In the country this conflict was not so apparent;
but in cities, such as Baltimore, Richmond, New Orleans,
Mobile, etc., it was seen pretty clearly. The slaveholders, -
with a craftiness peculiar to themselves, by encouraging the
enmity of the poor laboring white man against the blacks,
succeeded in making the said white man almost as much a
slave as the black slave himself. The difference between the
white slave and the black slave was this: the latter belonged
to one slaveholdºr, and the former belonged to the slaveholders
collectively. The white slave had taken from him by indirec-
tion what the black slave had taken from him directly and
without ceremony. Both were plundered, and by the same
plunderers. The slave was robbed by his master of all his
earnings, above what was required for his bare physical neces-
sities, and the white laboring man was robbed by the slave
system, of the just results of his labor, because he was flung
into competition with a class of laborers who worked without
wages. The slaveholders blinded them to this competition by
keeping alive their prejudice against the slaves as men—not
against them as slaves. They appealed to their pride, often
denouncing emancipation as tending to place the white work-
ing man on an equality with negroes, and by this means they
succeeded in drawing off the minds of the poor whites from
the real fact, that by the rich slave-master, they were already
regarded as but a single remove from equality with the slave.
The impression was cunningly made that slavery was the only
power that could prevent the laboring white man from falling






ENMITY OF WHITES TOWARDS BLACKS. 181
to the level of the slave's poverty and degradation. To make
this enmity deep and broad between the slave and the p00r
white man, the latter was allowed to abuse and whip the
former without hindrance. But, as I have said, this state of
affairs prevailed mostly in the country. In the city of Balti-
more there were not unfrequent murmurs that educating
slaves to be mechanics might, in the end, give slave-masters
power to dispose altogether with the services of the poor white
man. But with characteristic dread of offending the slave-
holders, these poor white mechanics in Mr. Gardiner's ship-
yard, instead of applying the natural, honest remedy for the
apprehended evil, and objecting at once to work there by the
side of slaves, made a cowardly attack upon the free colored
mechanics, saying they were eating the bread which should be
eaten by American freemen, and swearing that they would
not work with them. The feeling was really against having
their labor brought into competition with that of the colored
freeman, and aimed to prevent him from serving himself, in
the evening of life, with the trade with which he had served
his master, during the more vigorous portion of his days. Had
they succeeded in driving the black freemen out of the ship-
yard, they would have determined also upon the removal of
the black slaves. The feeling was very bitter toward all col-
ored people in Baltimore about this time (1836), and they–
free and slave—suffered all manner of insult and Wrong.
Until a very little while before I went there white and black
carpenters worked side by side in the ship-yards of Mr. Gar-
diner, Mr. Duncan, Mr. Walter Price, and Mr. Robb. Nobody
seemed to see any impropriety in it. Some of the blacks were
first rate workmen and were given jobs requiring the highest
skill. All at once, however, the white carpenters knocked off
and swore that they would no longer work on the same stage
with negroes. Taking advantage of the heavy contract rest-
ing upon Mr. Gardiner to have the vessels for Mexico ready
to launch in July, and of the difficulty of getting other hands
at that season of the year, they swore they would not strike

182 AUTHOR, NEARLY KILLED.
another blow for him unless he would discharge his free col-
ored workmen. Now, although this movement did not extend
to me in form, it did reach me in fact. The spirit which it
awakened was one of malice and bitterness toward colored
people generally, and I suffered with the rest, and suffered
severely. My fellow-apprentices very soon began to feel it to
be degrading to work with me. They began to put on high
looks and to talk contemptuously and maliciously of “the
niggers,” saying that they would take the “country,” that
they “ought to be killed.” Encouraged by workmen who,
knowing me to be a slave, made no issue with Mr. Gardiner
about my being there, these young men did their utmost to
make it impossible for me to stay. They seldom called me to
do anything without coupling the call with a curse, and Ed-
ward North, the biggest in everything, rascality included,
ventured to strike me, whereupon I picked him up and threw
him into the dock. Whenever any of them struck me I
struck back again, regardless of consequences. I could man-
age any of them singly, and so long as I could keep them
from combining I got on very well. In the conflict which
ended my stay at Mr. Gardiner's I was beset by four of them
at once—Ned North, Ned Hays, Bill Stewart, and Tom Hum-
phreys. Two of them were as large as myself, and they came
near killing me, in broad day-light. One came in front,
armed with a brick; there was one at each side and one be-
hind, and they closed up all around me. I was struck on all
sides; and while I was attending to those in front I received
a blow on my head from behind, dealt with a heavy hand-
spike. I was completely stunned by the blow, and fell heavily
on the ground among the timbers. Taking advantage of my
fall they rushed upon me and began to pound me with their
fists. I let them lay on for a while after I came to myself,
with a view of gaining strength. They did me little damage
so far; but finally getting tired of that sport I gave a sudden
surge, and despite their weight I rose to my hands and knees.
Just as I did this one of their number planted a blow with

A COWARDLY ACT. 183
his boot in my left eye, which for a time seemed to have burst
my eye-ball. When they saw my eye completely closed, my
face covered with blood, and I staggering under the stunning
blows they had given me, they left me. As soon as I gathered
strength I picked up the hand-spike and madly enough at-
tempted to pursue them; but here the carpenters interfered
and compelled me to give up my pursuit. It was impossible
to stand against so many.
Dear reader, you can hardly believe the statement, but it is
true, and therefore I write it down; no fewer than fifty white
men stood by and saw this brutal and shameful outrage com-
mitted, and not a man of them all interposed a single word
of mercy. There were four against one, and that one's face
was beaten and battered most horribly, and no one said, “that
is enough;” but some cried out, “Kill him kill him kill
the d n nigger! knock his brains out! he struck a white
person!” I mention this inhuman outcry to show the char-
acter of the men and the spirit of the times at Gardiner's
ship-yard; and, indeed, in Baltimore generally, in 1836. As
I look back to this period, I am almost amazed that I was not
murdered outright, so murderous was the spirit which pre-
vailed there. On two other occasions while there I came near
losing my life, on one of which I was driving bolts in the
hold through the keelson with Hays. In its course the bolt
bent. Hays cursed me, and said that it was my blow which
bent the bolt. I denied this, and charged it upon him. In
a fit of rage he seized an adze and darted toward me. I met
him with a maul and parried his blow, or I should have lost
my life. -
After the united attack of North, Stewart, Hays, and Hum-
phreys, finding that the carpenters were as bitter toward me
as the apprentices, and that the latter were probably set on
by the former, I found my only chance for life was in flight.
I succeeded in getting away without an additional blow. To
strike a white man was death by lynch law, in Gardiner's
ship-yard; nor was there much of any other law toward the
colored *" at that time in any other part of Maryland.
184 HIS OLD, KIND MISTRESS.
After making my escape from the ship-yard I went straight
home and related my story to Master Hugh; and to his credit
I say it, that his conduct, though he was not a religious man,
was every way more humane than that of his brother Thomas,
when I went to him in a somewhat similar plight, from the
hands of his “Brother Edward Covey.” Master Hugh listened
attentively to my narration of the circumstances leading to
the ruffianly assault, and gave many evidences of his strong
indignation at what was done. He was a rough but manly-
hearted fellow, and at this time his best nature showed itself.
The heart of my once kind mistress Sophia was again
melted in pity towards me. My puffed-out eye and my scarred
and blood-covered face moved the dear lady to tears. She
kindly drew a chair by me, and with friendly and consoling
words, she took water and washed the blood from my face.
No mother's hand could have been more tender than hers.
She bound up my head and covered my wounded eye with a
lean piece of fresh beef. It was almost compensation for all
I suffered that it occasioned the manifestation once more of
the originally characteristic kindness of my mistress. Her
affectionate heart was not yet dead, though much hardened
by time and circumstances.
As for Master Hugh he was furious, and gave expression to
his feelings in the forms of speech usual in that locality. He
poured curses on the whole of the ship-yard company, and
swore that he would have satisfaction. His indignation was
really strong and healthy; but unfortunately it resulted from
the thought that his rights of property, in my person, had not
been respected, more than from any sense of the outrage per-
petrated upon me as a man. I had reason to think this from
the fact that he could, himself, beat and mangle when it suited
him to do so.
Bent on having satisfaction, as he said, just as soon as I
got a little the better of my bruises Master Hugh took me to
Esquire Watson's office on Bond street, Fell's Point, with a
view to procuring the arrest of those who had assaulted me.


WHITE WITNESSES ONLY COMPETENT. 185
He related the outrage to the magistrate as I had related it to
him, and seemed to expect that a warrant would at once be
issued for the arrest of the lawless ruffians. Mr. Watson
heard all he had to say, then coolly inquired, “Mr. Auld, who
saw this assault of which you speak º’ “It was done, sir, in
the presence of a ship-yard full of hands.” “Sir” said Mr.
Watson, “I am sorry, but I cannot move in this matter, ex-
cept upon the oath of white witnesses.” “But here's the
boy; look at his head and face,” said the excited Master
Hugh; “they show what has been done.” But Watson in-
sisted that he was not authorized to do anything, unless white
witnesses of the transaction would come forward and testify
to what had taken place. He could issue no warrant on my
word, against white persons, and if I had been killed in the
presence of a thousand blacks, their testimony combined would
have been insufficient to condemn a single murderer. Master
Hugh was compelled to say, for once, that this state of things
was too bad, and he left the office of the magistrate disgusted.
Of course it was impossible to get any white man to testify
against my assailants. The carpenters saw what was done;
but the actors were but the agents of their malice, and did
only what the carpenters sanctioned. They had cried with
one accord, “Kill the nigger kill the nigger l’’ Even those
who may have pitied me, if any such were among them,
lacked the moral courage to volunteer their evidence. The
slightest show of sympathy or justice toward a person of color
was denounced as abolitionism ; and the name of abolitionist
subjected its hearer to frightful liabilities. “D in aboli-
tionists,” and “kill the niggers,” “were the watch-words of the
foul-mouthed ruffians of those days. Nothing was done, and
probably there would not have been had I been killed in the
affray. The laws and the morals of the Christian city of
Baltimore afforded no protection to the sable denizens of that
city.
Master Hugh, on finding he could get no redress for the
cruel wrong, withdrew me from the employment of Mr. Gar-
diner and took me into his own family, Mrs. Auld kindly
186 ADVANTAGE OF LIVING IN BALTIMORE.
taking care of me and dressing my wounds until they were
healed and I was ready to go to work again.
While I was on the Eastern Shore, Master Hugh had met
with reverses which overthrew his business; and he had given up
ship-building in his own yard, on the City Block, and was now
acting as foreman of Mr. Walter Price. The best he could
do for me was to take me into Mr. Price's yard, and afford
me the facilities there for completing the trade which I began
to learn at Gardiner's. Here I rapidly became expert in the
use of calker's tools, and in the course of a single year, I was
able to command the highest wages paid to journeymen
calkers in Baltimore. - - -
The reader will observe that I was now of some pecuniary
value to my master. During the busy season I was bringing
six and seven dollars per week. I have sometimes brought
him as much as nine dollars a week, for the wages were a
dollar and a half per day. -
After learning to calk, I sought my own employment, made
my own contracts, and collected my own earnings—giving
Master Hugh no trouble in any part of the transactions to
which I was a party. -
Here, then, were better days for the Eastern Shore slave.
I was free from the vexatious assaults of the apprentices at
Mr. Gardiner's, and free from the perils of plantation life, and
once more in favorable condition to increase my little stock of
education, which had been at a dead stand since my removal
from Baltimore. I had on the Eastern Shore been only a
teacher, when in company with other slaves, but now there
were colored persons here who could instruct me. Many of the
young calkers could read, write, and cipher. Some of them
had high notions about mental improvement, and the free ones
on Fell's Point organized what they called the “East Balti-
more Mental Improvement Society.” To this society, notwith-
standing it was intended that only free persons should attach
themselves, I was admitted, and was several times assigned a
prominent part in its debates. I owe much to the society of
these young men. - -






WHY SHOULD HE BE A SLAVE. 187
The reader already knows enough of the ill effects of good
treatment on a slave to anticipate what was now the case in
my improved condition. It was not long before I began to
show signs of disquiet with slavery, and to look around for
means to get out of it by the shortest route. I was living
among freemen, and was in all respects equal to them by
nature and attainments. Why should / be a slave 2 There
was no reason why I should be the thrall of any man. Be-
sides, I was now getting, as I have said, a dollar and fifty
cents per day. I contracted for it, worked for it, collected it;
it was paid to me, and it was rightfully my own; and yet upon
every returning Saturday night, this money—my own hard
earnings, every cent of it—was demanded of me and taken
from me by Master Hugh. He did not earn it; he had no
hand in earning it; why, then, should he have it I owed
him nothing. He had given me no schooling, and I had
received from him only my food and raiment; and for these
my services were supposed to pay from the first. The right
to take my earnings was the right of the robber. He had the
power to compel me to give him the fruits of my labor, and
this power was his only right in the case. I became more
and more dissatisfied with this state of things, and in so
becoming I only gave proof of the same human nature which
every reader of this chapter in my life—slaveholder, or non-
slaveholder—is conscious of possessing.
To make a contented slave, you must make a thoughtless
one. It is necessary to darken his moral and mental vision,
and, as far as possible, to annihilate his power of reason. He
must be able to detect no inconsistencies in slavery. The man
who takes his earnings must be able to convince him that he
has a perfect right to do so. It must not depend upon mere
force: the slave must know no higher law than his master's
will. The whole relationship must not only demonstrate to his
mind its necessity, but its absolute rightfulness. If there be
one crevice through which a single drop can fall, it will cer-
tainly rust off the slave's chain.
CHAPTER XXI.
ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY.
Closing incidents in my “Life as a Slave.”—Discontent—Suspicions—Mas-
ter's generosity–Difficulties in the way of escape–Plan to obtain money
—Allowed to hire my time—A gleam of hope–Attend camp-meeting—
Anger of Master Hugh—The result–Plans of escape–Day for depart-
ure fixed–Harassing doubts and fears—Painful thoughts of separa-
tion from friends.
Y condition during the year of my escape (1838) was
M comparatively a free and easy one, so far, at least, as
the wants of the physical man were concerned; but the reader
will bear in mind that my troubles from the beginning had
been less physical than mental, and he will thus be prepared
to find that slave life was adding nothing to its charms for
me as I grew older, and became more and more acquainted with
it. The practice from week to week of openly robbing me of
all my earnings, kept the nature and character of slavery
constantly before me. I could be robbed by indirection, but
this was too open and barefaced to be endured. I could see
no reason why I should, at the end of each week, pour the
reward of my honest toil into the purse of my master. My obli-
gation to do this vexed me, and the manner in which Master
Hugh received my wages vexed me yet more. Carefully count-
ing the money, and rolling it out dollar by dollar, he would
look me in the face as if he would search my heart
as well as my pocket, and reproachfully ask me, “Is
that all Z'-implying that I had perhaps kept back part
of my wages; or, if not so, the demand was made possi-
bly to make me feel that after all, I was an “unprofitable
servant.” Draining me of the last cent of my hard earnings,
he would, however, occasionally, when I brought home an
extra large sum, dole out to me a sixpence or a shilling, with


(188)
KIDNAPPER'S A BROAD.
a view, perhaps, of kindling up my gratitude. But it had the
opposite effect; it was an admission of my right to the whole
sum. The fact that he gave me any part of my wages, was
proof that he suspected I had a right to the whole of them;
and I always felt uncomfortable after having received any-
thing in this way, lest his giving me a few cents might possi-
bly ease his conscience, and make him feel himself to be a
pretty honorable robber after all.
Held to a strict account, and kept under a close watch,-
the old suspicion of my running away not having been
entirely removed,—to accomplish my escape seemed a very
difficult thing. The railroad from Baltimore to Philadelphia
was under regulations so stringent that even free colored
travelers were almost excluded. They must have free papers;
they must be measured and carefully examined before they
could enter the cars, and could go only in the day time, even
when so examined. The steamboats were under regulations
equally stringent. And still more, and worse than all, all the
great turnpikes leading northward were beset with kidnap-
pers; a class of men who watched the newspapers for adver-
tisements for runaway slaves, thus making their living by the
accursed reward of slave-hunting.
My discontent grew upon me, and I was on a constant look-
out for means to get away. With money I could easily have
managed the matter, and from this consideration I hit upon
the plan of soliciting the privilege of hiring my time. It was
quite common in Baltimore to allow slaves this privilege, and
was the practice also in New Orleans. A slave who was con-
sidered trustworthy could, by paying his master a definite sum
regularly, at the end of each week, dispose of his time as he
liked. It so happened that I was not in very good odor, and
I was far from being a trustworthy slave. Nevertheless, I
watched my opportunity when Master Thomas came to Balti-
more (for I was still his property, Hugh only acting as his
agent) in the spring of 1838, to purchase his spring supply of
goods, and applied to him directly for the much-coveted privi-

190 ENDEAVORED TO HIRE HIS TIME.
lege of hiring my time. This request Master Thomas unhesi-
tatingly refused to grant; and he charged me, with some stern-
ness, with inventing this stratagem to make my escape. He
told me I could go nowhere but he would catch me; and, in
the event of my running away, I might be assured he should
spare no pains in his efforts to recapture me. He recounted,
with a good deal of eloquence, the many kind offices he had
done me, and exhorted me to be contented and obedient. “Lay
out no plans for the future,” said he “if you behave yourself
properly, I will take care of you.” Now, kind and considerate
as this offer was, it failed to soothe me into repose. In spite
of all Master Thomas had said, and in spite of my own efforts
to the contrary, the injustice and wickedness of slavery was
always uppermost in my thoughts, strengthening my purpose
to make my escape at the earliest moment possible. -
About two months after applying to Master Thomas for the
privilege of hiring my time, I applied to Master Hugh for the
same liberty, supposing him to be unacquainted with the fact
that I had made a similar application to Master Thomas, and
had been refused. My boldness in making this request fairly
astounded him at first. He gazed at me in amazement. But
I had many good reasons for pressing the matter, and, after
listening to them awhile, he did not absolutely refuse, but told
me he would think of it. There was hope for me in this.
Once master of my own time, I felt sure that I could make
over and above my obligation to him, a dollar or two every
week. Some slaves had made enough in this way to purchase
their freedom. It was a sharp spur to their industry; and
some of the most enterprising colored men in Baltimore hired
themselves in that way.
After mature reflection, as I suppose it was, Master Hugh
granted me the privilege in question, on the following terms:
I was to be allowed all my time; to make all bargains for
work, and to collect my own wages; and in return for this
liberty, I was required or obliged to pay him three dollars at
the end of each week, and to board and clothe myself, and




HIS REQUEST GRANTED. 191
buy my own calking tools. A failure in any of these particu-
lars would put an end to the privilege. This was a hard
bargain. The wear and tear of clothing, the losing and break-
ing of tools, and the expense of board made it necessary for
me to earn at least six dollars per week to keep even with the
world. All who are acquainted with calking know how uncer-
tain and irregular that employment is. It can be done to
advantage only in dry weather, for it is useless to put wet
oakum into a ship's seam. Rain or shine, however, work or
no work, at the end of each week the money must be forth-
coming.
Master Hugh seemed much pleased with this arrangement
for a time; and well he might be, for it was decidedly in his
favor. It relieved him of all anxiety concerning me. His
money was sure. He had armed my love of liberty with a
lash and a driver far more efficient than any I had before
known; and while he derived all the benefits of slaveholding
by the arrangement, without its evils, I endured all the evils
of being a slave, and yet suffered all the care and anxiety of
a responsible freeman. “Nevertheless,” thought I, “it is a
valuable privilege—another step in my career toward free-
dom.” It was something even to be permitted to stagger
under the disadvantages of liberty, and I was determined to
hold on to the newly gained footing by all proper industry. I
was ready to work by night as by day, and being in the posses-
sion of excellent health, I was not only able to meet my current
expenses, but also to lay by a small sum at the end of each
week. All went on thus from the month of May till August;
then, for reasons which will become apparent as I proceed,
my much-valued liberty was wrested from me.
During the week previous to this calamitous event, I had
made arrangements with a few young friends to accompany
them on Saturday night to a camp-meeting, to be held about
twelve miles from Baltimore. On the evening of our intended
start for the camp-ground, something occurred in the ship-
yard where I was at work which detained me unusually late,

192 HIS COMMISSION REVOKED.
and compelled me either to disappoint my friends, or to neg-
lect carrying my weekly dues to Master Hugh. Knowing that
I had the money and could hand it to him on another day, I
decided to go to camp-meeting, and to pay him the three dol-
lars for the past week on my return. Once on the camp-
ground, I was induced to remain one day longer than I had
intended when I left home. But as soon as I returned I went
directly to his home on Fell street to hand him his (my)
money. Unhappily the fatal mistake had been made. I found
him exceedingly angry. He exhibited all the signs of appre-
hension and wrath which a slaveholder might be surmised to
exhibit on the supposed escape of a favorite slave. “You
rascal! I have a great mind to give you a sound whipping.
How dare you go out of the city without first asking and
obtaining my permission º’ “Sir,” I said, “I hired my time
and paid you the price you asked for it. I did not know that
it was any part of the bargain that I should ask you when or
where I should go.” “You did not know, you rascal ' You
are bound to show yourself here every Saturday night.” After
reflecting a few moments, he became somewhat cooled down;
but evidently greatly troubled, he said: “Now, you scoundrel,
you have done for yourself; you shall hire your time no longer.
The next thing I shall hear of will be your running away.
Bring home your tools at once. I’ll teach you how to go off
in this way.”
Thus ended my partial freedom. I could hire my time no
longer; and I obeyed my master's orders at once. The little
taste of liberty which I had had—although as it will be
seen, that taste was far from being unalloyed by no means
enhanced my contentment with slavery. Punished by Master
Hugh, it was now my turn to punish him. “Since,” thought
I, “you will make a slave of me, I will await your order in all
things.” So, instead of going to look for work on Monday
morning, as I had formerly done, I remained at home during
the entire week, without the performance of a single stroke of
work. Saturday night came, and he called upon me as usual

RESOLVED TO ESCAPE. 193
for my wages. I, of course, told him I had done no work, and
had no wages. Here we were at the point of coming to blows.
His wrath had been accumulating during the whole week; for
he evidently saw that I was making no effort to get work, but
was most aggravatingly awaiting his orders in all things. As
I look back to this behavior of mine, I scarcely know what
possessed me, thus to trifle with one who had such unlimited
power to bless or blast me. Master Hugh raved, and swore
he would “get hold of me,” but wisely for him, and happily
for me, his wrath employed only those harmless, impalpable
missiles which roll from a limber tongue. In my desperation
I had fully made up my mind to measure strength with him,
in case he should attempt to execute his threats. I am glad
there was no occasion for this, for resistance to him could not
have ended so happily for me as it did in the case of Covey.
Master Hugh was not a man to be safely resisted by a slave;
and I freely own that in my conduct toward him, in this
instance, there was more folly than wisdom. He closed his
reproofs by telling me that hereafter I need give myself no
uneasiness about getting work; he “would himself see to get-
ting work for me, and enough of it at that.” This threat, I
confess, had some terror in it, and on thinking the matter
over during the Sunday, I resolved not only to save him the
trouble of getting me work, but that on the third day of Sep-
tember I would attempt to make my escape. His refusal to
allow me to hire my time therefore hastened the period of my
flight. I had three weeks in which to prepare for my journey.
Once resolved, I felt a certain degree of repose, and on
Monday morning, instead of waiting for Master Hugh to seek
employment for me, I was up by break of day, and off to the
ship-yard of Mr. Butler, on the City Block, near the draw-
bridge. I was a favorite with Mr. Butler, and, young as I
was, I had served as his foreman, on the float-stage, at calk-
ing. Of course I easily obtained work, and at the end of the
week, which, by the way, was exceedingly fine, I brought Mas-
ter Hugh nine dollars. The effect of this mark of returning

194 RECEIVES TWENTY-FIVE CENTS.
good sense on my part, was excellent. He was very much
pleased ; he took the money, commended me, and told me I
might have done the same thing the week before. It is a
blessed thing that the tyrant may not always know the
thoughts and purposes of his victim. Master Hugh little
knew my plans. The going to camp-meeting without asking
his permission, the insolent answers to his reproaches, the
sulky deportment of the week after being deprived of the
privilege of hiring my time, had awakened the suspicion that
I might be cherishing disloyal purposes. My object, therefore,
in working steadily was to remove suspicion; and in this I
succeeded admirably. He probably thought I was never bet-
ter satisfied with my condition than at the very time I was
planning my escape. The second week passed, and I again
carried him my full week's wages—nine dollars; and so well
pleased was he that he gave me twenty-five cents' and bade
me “make good use of it.” I told him I would do so, for one
of the uses to which I intended to put it was to pay my fare
on the “underground railroad.”
Things without went on as usual; but I was passing through
the same internal excitement and anxiety which I had expe-
rienced two years and a half before. The failure in that
instance was not calculated to increase my confidence in the
success of this, my second attempt; and I knew that a second
failure could not leave me where my first did. I must either
get to the far North or be sent to the far South. Besides the
exercise of mind from this state of facts, I had the painful
sensation of being about to separate from a circle of honest
and warm-hearted friends. The thought of such a separation,
where the hope of ever meeting again was excluded, and
where there could be no correspondence, was very painful. It
is my opinion that thousands more would have escaped from
slavery but for the strong affection which bound them to their
families, relatives, and friends. The daughter was hindered
by the love she bore her mother, and the father by the love
he bore his wife and children, and so on to the end of the

GOOD BYE, MASTER. 195
chapter. I had no relations in Baltimore, and I saw no proba-
bility of ever living in the neighborhood of sisters and
brothers; but the thought of leaving my friends was the
strongest obstacle to my running away. The last two days
of the week, Friday and Saturday, were spent mostly in col-
lecting my things together for my journey. Having worked
four days that week for my master, I handed him six dollars
on Saturday night. I seldom spent my Sundays at home, and
for fear that something might be discovered in my conduct, I
kept up my custom and absented myself all day. On Mon-
day, the third day of September, 1838, in accordance with my
resolution, I bade farewell to the city of Baltimore, and to that
slavery which had been my abhorrence from childhood.

SECOND PART
CHAPTER I.
ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY.
Reasons for not having revealed the manner of escape—Nothing of romance
in the method–Danger–Free Papers—Unjust tax—Protection papers—
“Free trade and sailors' rights”—American eagle—Railroad train–Un-
observing conductor—Capt. McGowan–Honest German–Fears—Safe
arrival in Philadelphia–Ditto in New York. -
N the first narrative of my experience in slavery, written
| nearly forty years ago, and in various writings since, I
have given the public what I considered very good reasons for
withholding the manner of my escape. In substance these
reasons were, first, that such publication at any time during
the existence of slavery might be used by the master against
the slave, and prevent the future escape of any who might
adopt the same means that I did. The second reason was, if
possible, still more binding to silence—for publication of details
would certainly have put in peril the persons and property of
those who assisted. Murder itself was not more sternly and
certainly punished in the State of Maryland, than that of aid-
ing and abetting the escape of a slave. Many colored men,
for no other crime than that of giving aid to a fugitive slave,
have, like Charles T. Torrey, perished in prison. The aboli-
tion of slavery in my native State and throughout the country,
and the lapse of time, render the caution hitherto observed no
longer necessary. But even since the abolition of slavery, I
have sometimes thought it well enough to baffle curiosity by
saying that while slavery existed there were good reasons for
not telling the manner of my escape, and since slavery had
ceased to exist there was no reason for telling it. I shall now,
however, cease to avail myself of this formula, and, as far as
I can, endeavor to satisfy this very natural curiosity. I should
(196)
) º
|
Y||
2



HOW HE ESCAPED. 197
perhaps have yielded to that feeling sooner, had there been
anything very heroic or thrilling in the incidents connected
with my escape, for I am sorry to say I have nothing of that
sort to tell; and yet the courage that could risk betrayal and the
bravery which was ready to encounter death if need be, in pur-
suit of freedom, were essential features in the undertaking.
My success was due to address rather than courage; to good
luck rather than bravery. My means of escape were provided
for me by the very men who were making laws to hold and
bind me more securely in slavery. It was the custom in the
State of Maryland to require of the free colored people to have
what were called free papers. This instrument they were
required to renew very often, and by charging a fee for this
writing, considerable sums from time to time were collected
by the State. In these papers the name, age, color, height,
and form of the free man were described, together with any
scars or other marks upon his person, which could assist in
his identification. This device of slaveholding ingenuity, like
other devices of wickedness, in some measure defeated itself
—since more than one man could be found to answer the same
general description. Hence many slaves could escape by per-
sonating the owner of one set of papers; and this was often
done as follows: A slave nearly or sufficiently answering the
description set forth in the papers, would borrow or hire them
till he could by their means escape to a free State, and then,
by mail or otherwise, return them to the owner. The opera-
tion was a hazardous one for the lender as well as the bor-
rower. A failure on the part of the fugitive to send back the
papers would imperil his benefactor, and the discovery of the
papers in possession of the wrong man would imperil both
the fugitive and his friend. It was therefore an act of supreme
trust on the part of a freeman of color thus to put in jeopardy
his own liberty that another might be free. It was, however,
not unfrequently bravely done, and was seldom discovered. I
was not so fortunate as to sufficiently resemble any of my free
acquaintances as to answer the description of their papers.
198 HAZARDOUS OPERATION.
But I had one friend—a sailor—who owned a sailor's protec-
tion, which answered somewhat the purpose of free papers—
describing his person, and certifying to the fact that he was a
free American sailor. The instrument had at its head the
American eagle, which gave it the appearance at once of an
authorized document. This protection did not, when in my
hands, describe its bearer very accurately. Indeed, it called
for a man much darker than myself, and close examination
of it would have caused my arrest at the start. In order to
avoid this fatal scrutiny on the part of the railroad official, I
had arranged with Isaac Rolls, a hackman, to bring my bag-
gage to the train just on the moment of its starting, and
jumped upon the car myself when the train was already in
motion. Had I gone into the station and offered to purchase
a ticket, I should have been instantly and carefully examined,
and undoubtedly arrested. In choosing this plan upon which
to act, I considered the jostle of the train, and the natural
haste of the conductor, in a train crowded with passengers,
and relied upon my skill and address in playing the sailor as
described in my protection, to do the rest. One element in my
favor was the kind feeling which prevailed in Baltimore and
other seaports at the time, towards “those who go down to
the sea in ships.” “Free trade and sailors' rights” expressed
the sentiment of the country just then. In my clothing I
was rigged out in sailor style. I had on a red shirt and a tar-
paulin hat and black cravat, tied in sailor fashion, carelessly
and loosely about my neck. My knowledge of ships and
sailor's talk came much to my assistance, for I knew a ship
from stem to stern, and from keelson to cross-trees, and could
talk sailor like an “old salt.” On sped the train, and I was
well on the way to Havre de Grace before the conductor came
into the negro car to collect tickets and examine the papers
of his black passengers. This was a critical moment in the
drama. My whole future depended upon the decision of this
conductor. Agitated I was while this ceremony was proceed-
ing, but still externally, at least, I was apparently calm and


HIS KNOWLEDGE OF SHIPS. 199
self-possessed. He went on with his duty—examining several
colored passengers before reaching me. He was somewhat
harsh in tone, and peremptory in manner until he reached
me, when, strangely enough, and to my surprise and relief,
his whole manner changed. Seeing that I did not readily
produce my free papers, as the other colored persons in the
car had done, he said to me in a friendly contrast with that
observed towards the others: “I suppose you have your free
papers?” To which I answered: “No, sir; I never carry my
free papers to sea with me.” “But you have something to
show that you are a free man, have you not : * “Yes, sir,” I
answered; “I have a paper with the American eagle on it,
and that will carry me round the world.” With this I drew
from my deep sailor's pocket my seaman's protection, as
before described. The merest glance at the paper satisfied
him, and he took my fare and went on about his business.
This moment of time was one of the most anxious I ever
experienced. Had the conductor looked closely at the paper,
he could not have failed to discover that it called for a very
different looking person from myself, and in that case it would
have been his duty to arrest me on the instant, and send me
back to Baltimore from the first station. When he left me
with the assurance that I was all right, though much relieved,
I realized that I was still in great danger: I was still in Mary-
land, and subject to arrest at any moment. I saw on the train
several persons who would have known me in any other clothes,
and I feared they might recognize me, even in my sailor “rig.”
and report me to the conductor, who would then subject me
to a closer examination, which I knew well would be fatal
to me. -
Though I was not a murderer fleeing from justice I felt per-
haps quite as miserable as such a criminal. The train was
moving at a very high rate of speed for that time of railroad
travel, but to my anxious mind, it was moving far too slowly.
Minutes were hours, and hours were days during this part of
my flight. After Maryland I was to pass through Delaware—
200 - A DANGEROUS FRIEND.
another slave State, where slave catchers generally awaited
their prey, for it was not in the interior of the State, but on its
borders, that these human hounds were most vigilant and
active. The border lines between slavery and freedom were
the dangerous ones, for the fugitives. The heart of no fox or
deer, with hungry hounds on his trail, in full chase, could
have beaten more anxiously or noisily than did mine, from the
time I left Baltimore till I reached Philadelphia. The pass-
age of the Susquehanna river at Havre de Grace was made by
ferry boat at that time, on board of which I met a young col-
ored man by the name of Nichols, who came very near betray-
ing me. He was a “hand” on the boat, but instead of mind-
ing his business, he insisted upon knowing me, and asking me
dangerous questions as to where I was going, and when I was
coming back, etc. I got away from my old and inconvenient
acquaintance as soon as I could decently do so, and went to
another part of the boat. Once across the river I encountered
a new danger. Only a few days before I had been at work on
a revenue cutter, in Mr. Price's ship-yard, under the care of
Captain McGowan. On the meeting at this point of the two
trains, the one going south stopped on the track just opposite
to the one going north, and it so happened that this Captain
McGowan sat at a window where he could see me very dis-
tinctly, and would certainly have recognized me had he looked
at me but for a second. Fortunately, in the hurry of the
moment, he did not see me; and the trains soon passed each
other on their respective ways. But this was not my only
hair-breadth escape. A German blacksmith whom I knew
well, was on the train with me, and looked at me very intently
as if he thought he had seen me somewhere before in his
travels. I really believe he knew me, but had no heart to
betray me. At any rate he saw me escaping and held his
peace. -
The last point of imminent danger, and the one I dreaded
most, was Wilmington. Here we left the train and took the
steamboat for Philadelphia. In making the change here I


ARRIVES IN NEW YORK. 201
again apprehended arrest, but no one disturbed me, and I was
soon on the broad and beautiful Delaware, speeding away to
the Quaker City. On reaching Philadelphia in the afternoon
I inquired of a colored man how I could get on to New York :
He directed me to the William street depot, and thither I
went, taking the train that night. I reached New York Tues-
day morning, having completed the journey in less than
twenty-four hours. Such is briefly the manner of my escape
from slavery—and the end of my experience as a slave. Other
chapters will tell the story of my life as a freeman.
CHAPTER II.
LIFE AS A FREEMAN.
Loneliness and Insecurity—“Allender's Jake”—Succored by a Sailor—
David Ruggles—Marriage—Steamer J. W. Richmond–Stage to New Bed-
ford–Arrival There—Driver's Detention of Baggage—Nathan Johnson–
Change of Name—Why called “ Douglas’’-Obtaining Work—The Lib-
erator and its Editor.
Y free life began on the third of September, 1838. On the
morning of the 4th of that month, after an anxious and
most perilous but safe journey, I found myself in the big city of -
New York, a free man; one more added to the mighty throng
which like the confused waves of the troubled sea, surged to
and fro between the lofty walls of Broadway. Though dazzled
with the wonders which met me on every hand, my thoughts
could not be much withdrawn from my strange situation. For
the moment the dreams of my youth, and the hopes of my
manhood, were completely fulfilled. The bonds that had held me
to “old master’’ were broken. No man now had a right to
call me his slave or assert mastery over me. I was in the
rough and tumble of an outdoor world, to take my chance
with the rest of its busy number. I have often been asked,
how I felt, when first I found myself on free soil. And my
readers may share the same curiosity. There is scarcely any-
thing in my experience about which I could not give a more
satisfactory answer. A new world had opened upon me. If
life is more than breath, and the “quick round of blood.” I
lived more in one day than in a year of my slave life. It was
a time of joyous excitement which words can but tamely
describe. In a letter written to a friend soon after reaching
New York, I said: “I felt as one might feel upon escape from
a den of hungry lions.” Anguish and grief, like darkness and
rain, may be depicted; but gladness and joy, like the rainbow,



(202)

NEW YORK AN UNSAFE REFUGE. 20%
defy the skill of pen or pencil. During ten or fifteen years I
had, as it were, been dragging a heavy chain, which no strength
of mine could break; I was not only a slave, but a slave for
life. I might become a husband, a father, an aged man, but
through all, from birth to death, from the cradle to the grave,
I had felt myself doomed. All efforts I had previously made
to secure my freedom, had not only failed, but had seemed
only to rivet my fetters the more firmly, and to render my
escape more difficult. Baffled, entangled, and discouraged, I
had at times asked myself the question, May not my condition
after all be God’s work, and ordered for a wise purpose, and
if so, was not submission my duty : A contest had in fact
been going on in my mind for a long time, between the clear
consciousness of right, and the plausible make-shifts of theol-
ogy and superstition. The one held me an abject slave—a
prisoner for life, punished for some transgression in which I
had no lot or part ; and the other counselled me to manly
endeavor to secure my freedom. This contest was now ended;
my chains were broken, and the victory brought me unspeak-
able joy. But my gladness was short lived, for I was not yet
out of the reach and power of the slaveholders. I soon found
that New York was not quite so free, or so safe a refuge as I
had supposed, and a sense of loneliness and insecurity again
oppressed me most sadly. I chanced to meet on the street a
few hours after my landing, a fugitive slave whom I had once
known well in slavery. The information received from him
alarmed me. The fugitive in question was known in Balti-
more as “ Allender's Jake,” but in New York he wore the
more respectable name of “William Dixon.” Jake in law
was the property of Doctor Allender, and Tolly Allender, the
son of the doctor, had once made an effort to recapture Mr.
Pºron, but had failed for want of evidence to support his
claim. Jake told me the circumstances of this attempt, and
how narrowly he escaped being sent back to slavery and tor-
ture. He told me that New York was then full of southernors
returning from the watering places north; that the colored

204 A STRANGER WITHOUT MONEY OR WORK.
people of New York were not to be trusted ; that there were
hired men of my own color who would betray me for a few
dollars; that there were hired men ever on the lookout for
fugitives; that I must trust no man with my secret; that I must
not think of going either upon the wharves, or into any colored
boarding-house, for all such places were closely watched; that
he was himself unable to help me; and, in fact, he seemed
while speaking to me to fear lest I myself might be a spy, and a
betrayer. Under this apprehension, as I suppose, he showed
signs of wishing to be rid of me, and with whitewash brush
in hand, in search of work, he soon disappeared. This pic-
ture, given by poor “Jake” of New York, was a damper to
my enthusiasm. My little store of money would soon be
exhausted, and since it would be unsafe for me to go on the
wharves for work, and I had no introductions elsewhere, the
prospect for me was far from cheeful. I saw the wisdom of
keeping away from the ship-yards, for, if pursued, as I felt
certain I would be, Mr. Auld would naturally seek me there
among the calkers. Every door seemed closed against me. I
was in the midst of an ocean of my fellow-men, and yet a
perfect stranger to every one. I was without home, without
acquaintance, without money, without credit, without work,
and without any definite knowledge as to what course to take,
or where to look for succor. In such an extremity, a man
has something beside his new-born freedom to think of. While
wandering about the streets of New York, and lodging at
least one night among the barrels on one of the wharves, I
was indeed free—from slavery, but free from food and shelter
as well. I kept my secret to myself as long as I could,
but was compelled at last to seek some one who should
befriend me, without taking advantage of my destitution to
betray me. Such an one I found in a sailor named Stuart, a
warm-hearted and generous fellow, who from his humble home
on Centre street, saw me standing on the opposite sidewalk,
near “The Tombs.” As he approached me I ventured a
remark to him which at once enlisted his interest in me. He

MARRIED TO THE GIRL HE LOVED. 205
took me to his home to spend the night, and in the morning
went with me to Mr. David Ruggles, the secretary of the New
York vigilance committee, a co-worker with Isaac T. Hopper,
Lewis and Arthur Tappan, Theodore S. Wright, Samuel Cor-
nish, Thomas Downing, Phillip A. Bell and other true men of
their time. All these (save Mr. Bell, who still lives, and is
editor and publisher of a paper called the Elevator, in San
Francisco) have finished their work on earth. Once in the
hands of these brave and wise men, I felt comparatively safe.
With Mr. Ruggles, on the corner of Lispenard and Church
streets, I was hidden several days, during which time my
intended wife came on from Baltimore at my call, to share
the burdens of life with me. She was a free woman, and
came at once on getting the good news of my safety. We
were married by Rev. J. W. C. Pennington, then a well-known
and respected Presbyterian minister. I had no money with
which to pay the marriage fee, but he seemed well pleased
with our thanks. -
Mr. Ruggles was the first officer on the underground rail-
road with whom I met after coming North; and was indeed
the only one with whom I had anything to do, till I became
such an officer myself. Learning that my trade was that of
a calker, he promptly decided that the best place for me was
in New Bedford, Mass. He told me that many ships for
whaling voyages were fitted out there, and that I might there
find work at my trade, and make a good living. So on the
day of the marriage ceremony, we took our little luggage to
the steamer John W. Richmond, which at that time was one
of the line running between New York and Newport, R. I.
Forty-three years ago colored travelers were not permitted in
the cabin, nor allowed abaft the paddle-wheels of a steam ves-
sel. They were compelled, whatever the weather might be,
whether cold or hot, wet or dry, to spend the night on deck.
Unjust as this regulation was, it did not trouble us much,
We had fared much harder before. We arrived at Newport
the next morning, and soon after an old-fashioned stage-coach

-
206 THEY ARRIVE AT NEW BEDFORD.
with “New Bedford ” in large, yellow letters on its sides, came
down to the wharf. I had not money enough to pay our fare,
and stood hesitating to know what to do. Fortunately for us,
there were two Quaker gentlemen who were about to take pas-
sage on the stage-Friends William C. Taber and Joseph
Ricketson, who at once discerned our true situation, and in
a peculiarly quiet way, addressing me, Mr. Taber said: “Thee
get in.” I never obeyed an order with more alacrity, and we
were soon on our way to our new home. When we reached
“Stone Bridge” the passengers alighted for breakfast, and
paid their fares to the driver. We took no breakfast, and
when asked for our fares I told the driver I would make it
right with him when we reached New Bedford. I expected
some objection to this on his part, but he made none. When,
however, we reached New Bedford he took our baggage, includ-
ing three music books,—two of them collections by Dyer, and
one by Shaw, and held them until I was able to redeem them
by paying to him the sums due for our rides. This was soon
done, for Mr. Nathan Johnson not only received me kindly,
and hospitably, but, on being informed about our baggage, at
once loaned me the two dollars with which to square accounts
with the stage-driver. Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Johnson reached
a good old age, and now rest from their labors. I am under
many grateful obligations to them. They not only “took me
in when a stranger,” and “fed me when hungry,” but taught
me how to make an honest living.
Thus, in a fortnight after my flight from Maryland, I was
safe in New Bedford, a citizen of the grand old common-
wealth of Massachusetts. -
Once initiated into my new life of freedom, and assured by
Mr. Johnson that I need not fear recapture in that city, a com-
paratively unimportant question arose, as to the name by which
I should be known thereafter, in my new relation as a free
man. The name given me by my dear mother was no less
pretentious and long than Frederick Augustus Washington
Bailey. I had, however, while living in Maryland disposed with
--
AT THE WHARF IN NEWPORT.



GETS A NEW NAME. 207
the Augustus Washington, and retained only Frederick Bailey.
Between Baltimore and New Bedford, the better to conceal
myself from the slave-hunters, I had parted with Bailey and
called myself Johnson; but finding that in New Bedford the
Johnson family was already so numerous as to cause some
confusion in distinguishing one from another, a change in this
name seemed desirable. Nathan Johnson, mine host, was
emphatic as to this necessity, and wished me to allow him to
select a name for me. I consented, and he called me by my
present name—the one by which I have been known for three
and forty years, Frederick Douglass. Mr. Johnson had just
been reading the “Lady of the Lake,” and so pleased was he
with its great character that he wished me to bear his name.
Since reading that charming poem myself. I have often thought
that, considering the noble hospitality and manly character of
Nathan Johnson, black man though he was, he, far more than
I, illustrated the virtues of the Douglas of Scotland. Sure
am I that if any slave-catcher had entered his domicile with a
view to my recapture, Johnson would have been like him of
the “stalwart hand.”
The reader may be surprised, that living in Baltimore as I
had done for many years, when I tell the honest truth of the
impressions I had in some way conceived of the social and
material condition of the people at the north. I had no proper
idea of the wealth, refinement, enterprise, and high civiliza-
tion of this section of the country. My Columbian Orator,
almost my only book, had done nothing to enlighten me con-
cerning northern society. I had been taught that slavery was
the bottom-fact of all wealth. With this foundation idea, I
came naturally to the conclusion that poverty must be the
general condition of the people of the free States. A white
man holding no slaves in the country from which I came, was
usually an ignorant and poverty-stricken man. Men of this
class were contemptuously called “poor white trash.” Hence
I supposed that since the non-slaveholders at the south were
ignorant, ". and degraded as a class, the non-slaveholders at
0
208 POOR WHITE TRASH.
the north must be in a similar condition. New Bedford there-
fore, which at that time was really the richest city in the
Union, in proportion to its population, took me greatly by sur-
prise, in the evidences it gave of its solid wealth and grandeur.
I found that even the laboring classes lived in better houses,
that their houses were more elegantly furnished, and were
more abundantly supplied with conveniences and comforts,
than the houses of many who owned slaves on the Eastern
Shore of Maryland. This was true not only of the white
people of that city, but it was so of my friend, Mr. Johnson.
He lived in a nicer house, dined at a more ample board, was
the owner of more books, the reader of more newspapers, was
more conversant with the moral, social, and political condition
of the country and the world than nine-tenths of the slave-
holders in all Talbot county. I was not long in finding the
cause of the difference in these respects, between the people of
the north and south. It was the superiority of educated mind
over mere brute force. I will not detain the reader by extended
illustrations as to how my understanding was enlightened on
this subject. On the wharves of New Bedford I received
my first light. I saw there industry without bustle, labor
without noise, toil–honest, earnest, and exhaustive, with-
out the whip. There was no loud singing or hallooing,
as at the wharves of southern ports when ships were load-
ing or unloading ; no loud cursing or quarreling; every-
thing went on as smoothly as well-oiled machinery. One of
the first incidents which impressed me with the superior men-
tal character of labor in the north over that of the south, was
in the manner of loading and unloading vessels. In a southern
port twenty or thirty hands would be employed to do what five
or six men, with the help of one ox, would do at the wharf in
New Bedford. Main strength—human muscle—unassisted by
intelligent skill, was slavery’s method of labor. With a capi-
tal of about sixty dollars in the shape of a good-natured old
ox, attached to the end of a stout rope, New Bedford did the
work of ten or twelve thousand dollars, represented in the


BETTER. SYSTEM OF LABOR. 209
bones and muscles of slaves, and did it far better. In a word,
I found everything managed with a much more scrupulous
regard to economy, both of men and things, time and strength,
than in the country from which I had come. Instead of going
a hundred yards to the spring, the maid-servant had a well or
pump at her elbow. The wood used for fuel was kept dry and
snugly piled away for winter. Here were sinks, drains, self-
shutting gates, pounding-barrels, washing-machines, wringing-
machines, and a hundred other contrivances for saving time
and money. The ship-repairing docks showed the same
thoughtful wisdom as seen elsewhere. Everybody seemed in
earnest. The carpenter struck the nail on its head, and the
calkers wasted no strength in idle flourishes of their mallets.
Ships brought here for repairs were made stronger and better
than when new. I could have landed in no part of the United
States where I should have found a more striking and gratify-
ing contrast, not only to life generally in the South, but in the
condition of the colored people there than in New Bedford.
No colored man was really free while residing in a slave
State. He was ever more or less subject to the condition of
his slave brother. In his color was his badge of bondage. I
saw in New Bedford the nearest approach to freedom and
equality that I had ever seen. I was amazed when Mr. John-
son told me that there was nothing in the laws or constitution
of Massachusetts, that would prevent a colored man from being
governor of the State, if the people should see fit to elect him.
There too the black man's children attended the same public
schools with the white man’s children, and apparently
without objection from any quarter. To impress me with my
security from recapture, and return to slavery, Mr. Johnson
assured me that no slaveholder could take a slave out of New
Bedford; that there were men there who would lay down
their lives to save me from such a fate. A threat was once
made by a colored man to inform a southern master where his
runaway slave could be found. As soon as this threat became
known to the colored people they were furious. A notice was
210 HIS FIRST FREE EARNINGS.
read from the pulpit of the Third Christian church (colored)
for a public meeting, when important business would be trans-
acted (not stating what the important business was). In the
meantime special measures had been taken to secure the
attendance of the would-be Judas, and these had proved suc-
cessful, for when the hour of meeting arrived, ignorant of the
object for which they were called together, the offender was
promptly in attendance. All the usual formalities were gone
through with, the prayer, appointments of president, secreta-
ries, etc. Then the president, with an air of great solemnity,
rose and said: “Well, friends and brethren, we have got him
here, and I would recommend that you, young men, should
take him outside the door and kill him.” This was enough;
there was a rush for the villain, who would probably have
been killed but for his escape by an open window. He was
never seen again in New Bedford.
The fifth day after my arrival I put on the clothes of a
common laborer, and went upon the wharves in search of
work. On my way down Union street I saw a large pile of
coal in front of the house of Rev. Ephraim Peabody, the Uni-
tarian minister. I went to the kitchen door and asked the
privilege of bringing in and putting away this coal. “What
will you charge : " said the lady. “I will leave that to you,
madam.” “You may put it away,” she said. I was not long
in accomplishing the job, when the dear lady put into my hand
two silver half dollars. To understand the emotion which
swelled my heart as 1 clasped this money, realizing that I had
no master who could take it from me—that it was mºna that
my hands were my own, and could earn more of the precious
coin-one must have been in some sense himself a slave. My
next job was stowing a sloop at Uncle Gid. Howland’s wharf
with a cargo of oil for New York. I was not only a freeman
but a free-working man, and no Master Hugh stood ready at
the end of the week to seize my hard earnings.
The season was growing late and work was plenty. Ships
were being fitted out for whaling, and much wood was used in


UNIKIND TREATMENT. 211
storing them. The sawing this wood was considered a good
job. With the help of old Friend Johnson (blessings on his
memory) I got a “ saw and “buck” and went at it. When
I went into a store to buy a cord with which to brace up my
saw in the frame, I asked for a “fip's '' worth of cord. The
man behind the counter looked rather sharply at me, and said
with equal sharpness, “You don’t belong about here.” I was
alarmed, and thought I had betrayed myself. A ſip in Mary-
land was six and a quarter cents, called fourpence in Massa-
chusetts. But no harm came, except my fear, from the
“fipenny-bit” blunder, and I confidently and cheerfully went
to work with my saw and buck. It was new business to me,
but I never did better work, or more of it in the same space of
time for Covey, the negro-breaker, than I did for myself in
these earliest years of my freedom.
Notwithstanding the just and humane sentiment of New
Bedford three and forty years ago, the place was not entirely
free from race and color prejudice. The good influence of the
Roaches, Rodmans, Arnolds, Grinnells, and Robesons did not
pervade all classes of its people. The test of the real civiliza-
tion of the community came when I applied for work at my
trade, and then my repulse was emphatic and decisive. It so
happened that Mr. Rodney French, a wealthy and enterprising
citizen, distinguished as an anti-slavery man, was fitting out a
vessel for a whaling voyage, upon which there was a heavy
job of calking and coppering to be done. I had some skill in
both branches, and applied to Mr. French for work. He, gen-
erous man that he was, told me he would employ me, and I
might go at once to the vessel. I obeyed him, but upon reach-
ing the float-stage, where other calkers were at work, I was
told that every white man would leave the ship in her unfin-
ished condition, if I struck a blow at my trade upon her. This
uncivil, inhuman, and selfish treatment was not so shocking
and scandalous in my eyes at the time as it now appears to
me. Slavery had inured me to hardships that made ordinary
trouble sit lightly upon me. Could I have worked at my trade
212 JOSEPH RICKETSON.
I could have earned two dollars a day, but as a common laborer
I received but one dollar. The difference was of great import-
ance to me, but if I could not get two dollars, I was glad to
get one; and so I went to work for Mr. French as a common
laborer. The consciousness that I was free—no longer a
slave—kept me cheerful under this, and many similar pro-
scriptions, which I was destined to meet in New Bedford, and
elsewhere on the free soil of Massachusetts. For instance,
though white and colored children attended the same schools,
and were treated kindly by their teachers, the New Bedford
Lyceum refused till several years after my residence in that
city to allow any colored person to attend the lectures deliv-
ered in its hall. Not until such men as Hon. Chas. Sumner,
Theodore Parker, Ralph W. Emerson, and Horace Mann
refused to lecture in their course while there was such a
restriction, was it abandoned.
Becoming satisfied that I could not rely on my trade in New
Bedford to give me a living, I prepared myself to do any kind
of work that came to hand. I sawed wood, shoveled coal, dug
cellars, moved rubbish from back-yards, worked on the
wharves, loaded and unloaded vessels, and scoured their
cabins. -
This was an uncertain and unsatisfactory mode of life, for
it kept une too much of the time in search of work. For-
tunately it was not to last long. One of the gentlemen of
whom I have spoken as being in company with Mr. Taber on
the Newport wharf, when he said to me “thee get in,” was
Mr. Joseph Ricketson; and he was the proprietor of a large
candle works in the south part of the city. In this “candle
works” as it was called, though no candles were manufactured
there, by the kindness of Mr. Ricketson, I found what is of
the utmost importance to a young man just starting in life—
constant employment and regular wages. My work in this
oil refinery required good wind and muscle. Large casks of
oil were to be moved from place to place, and much heavy
lifting to be done. Happily I was not deficient in the requi-


KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTY. 213
site qualities. Young (21 years), strong, and active, and
ambitious to do my full share, I soon made myself useful, and
I think liked by the men who worked with me, though they
were all white. I was retained here as long as there was any-
thing for me to do; when I went again to the wharves and
obtained work as a laborer on two vessels which belonged to
Mr. George Howland, and which were being repaired and
fitted up for whaling. My employer was a man. of great
industry: a hard driver, but a good paymaster, and I got on
well with him. I was not only fortunate in finding work
with Mr. Howland, but in my work-fellows. I have seldom .
met three working men more intelligent than were John
Briggs, Abraham Rodman, and Solomon Pennington, who
labored with me on the “Java” and “Golconda.” They were
sober, thoughtful, and upright, thoroughly imbued with the
spirit of liberty, and I am much indebted to them for many
valuable ideas and impressions. They taught me that all
colored men were not light-hearted trifiers, incapable of serious
thought or effort. My next place of work was at the brass
foundry owned by Mr. Richmond. My duty here was to blow
the bellows, swing the crane, and empty the flasks in which
castings were made; and at times this was hot and heavy
work. The articles produced here were mostly for ship work,
and in the busy season the foundry was in operation night and
day. I have often worked two nights and each working day
of the week. My foreman, Mr. Cobb, was a good man, and
more than once protected me from abuse that one or more of
the hands was disposed to throw upon me. While in this
situation I had little time for mental improvement. Hard
work, night and day, over a furnace hot enough to keep the
metal running like water, was more favorable to action than
thought; yet here I often nailed a newspaper to the post
near my bellows, and read while I was performing the up and
down motion of the heavy beam by which the bellows was
inflated and discharged. It was the pursuit of knowledge
under difficulties, and I look back to it now after so many
214 CONTRACT WITH GARRISON.
years with some complacency and a little wonder that I could
have been so earnest and persevering in any pursuit other
than for my daily bread. I certainly saw nothing in the con-
duct of those around to inspire me with such interest: they
were all devoted exclusively to what their hands found to do.
I am glad to be able to say that during my engagement in this
foundry, no complaint was ever made against me, that I did
not do my work, and do it well. The bellows which I worked
by main strength was after I left moved by a steam engine.
I had been living four or five months in New Bedford when
there came a young man to me with a copy of the Liberator,
the paper edited by William Lloyd Garrison, and published
by Isaac Knapp, and asked me to subscribe for it. I told him
I had but just escaped from slavery, and was of course very
poor, and had no money then to pay for it. He was very will-
ing to take me as a subscriber, notwithstanding, and from this
time I was brought into contact with the mind of Mr. Garri-
son, and his paper took a place in my heart second only to
the Bible. It detested slavery, and made no truce with the
traffickers in the bodies and souls of men. It preached human
brotherhood; it exposed hypocrisy and wickedness in high
places; it denounced oppression, and with all the solemnity of
“Thus saith the Lord,” demanded the complete emancipation
of my race. I loved this paper and its editor. He seemed to
me an all-sufficient match to every opponent, whether they
spoke in the name of the law or the gospel His words were
full of holy fire, and straight to the point. Something of a
hero-worshiper by nature, here was one to excite my admira-
tion and reverence.
Soon after becoming a reader of the Liberator it was my
privilege to listen to a lecture in Liberty Hall, by Mr. Garri-
son, its editor. He was then a young man, of a singularly
pleasing countenance, and earnest and impressive manner. On
this occasion he announced nearly all his heresies. His Bible
was his text book—held sacred as the very word of the Eter-
nal Father. He believed in sinless perfection, complete sub-


HE HEARS HIM LECTURE. 215
mission to insults and injuries, and literal obedience to the
injunction if smitten “on one cheek to turn the other also.”
Not only was Sunday a Sabbath, but all days were Sabbaths,
and to be kept holy. All sectarianism was false and mis-
chievous—the regenerated throughout the world being mem-
bers of one body, and the head Christ Jesus. Prejudice
against color was rebellion against God. Of all men beneath
the sky, the slaves because most neglected and despised, were
nearest and dearest to his great heart. Those ministers who
defended slavery from the Bible were of their “father the
devil”; and those churches which fellowshiped slaveholders
as Christians, were synagogues of Satan, and our nation was a
nation of liars. He was never loud and noisy, but calm and
serene as a summer sky, and as pure. “You are the man—
the Moses, raised up by God, to deliver his modern Israel from
bondage,” was the spontaneous feeling of my heart, as I sat
away back in the hall and listened to his mighty words,-
mighty in truth, mighty in their simple earnestness. I had
not long been a reader of the Liberator, and a listener to its
editor, before I got a clear comprehension of the principles of
the anti-slavery movement. I had already its spirit, and only
needed to understand its principles and measures, and as I
became acquainted with these my hope for the ultimate free-
dom of my race increased. Every week the Liberator came,
and every week I made myself master of its contents. All
the anti-slavery meetings held in New Bedford I promptly
attended, my heart bounding at every true utterance against
the slave system, and every rebuke of it by its friends and
supporters. Thus passed the first three years of my free life.
I had not then dreamed of the possibility of my becoming a
public advocate of the cause so deeply imbedded in my heart.
It was enough for me to listen, to receive, and applaud the
great words of others, and only whisper in private, among the
white laborers on the wharves and elsewhere, the truths which
burned in my heart.
10*
CHAPTER III.
INTRODUCED TO THE ABOLITIONISTS.
Anti-Slavery Convention at Nantucket–First Speech—Much Sensation—
Extraordinary Speech of Mr. Garrison—Anti-Slavery Agency—Youthful
Enthusiasm—Fugitive Slaveship Doubted—Experience in Slavery Written
–Danger of Recapture.
N the summer of 1841 a grand anti-slavery convention was
held in Nantucket, under the auspices of Mr. Garrison and
his friends. I had taken no holiday since establishing myselfin
New Bedford, and feeling the need of a little rest, I determined
on attending the meeting, though I had no thought of taking
part in any of its proceedings. Indeed, I was not aware that
any one connected with the convention so much as knew my
name. Mr. William C. Coffin, a prominent abolitionist in
those days of trial, had heard me speaking to my colored
friends in the little school house on Second street, where we
worshiped. He sought me out in the crowd and invited me
to say a few words to the convention. Thus sought out, and
thus invited, I was induced to express the feelings inspired
by the occasion, and the fresh recollection of the scenes
through which I had passed as a slave. It was with the
utmost difficulty that I could stand erect, or that I could com-
mand and articulate two words without hesitation and stam-
mering. I trembled in every limb. I am not sure that my
embarrassment was not the most effective part of my speech,
if speech it could be called. At any rate, this is about the
only part of my performance that I now distinctly remember.
The audience sympathized with me at once, and from having
been remarkably quiet, became much excited. Mr. Garrison
followed me, taking me as his text, and now, whether I had
made an eloquent plea in behalf of freedom, or not, his was

(216)

ATTENDS AN ANTI-SLAVERY MEETING. 217
one, never to be forgotten. Those who had heard him often-
est, and had known him longest, were astonished at his mas-
terly effort. For the time he possessed that almost fabulous
inspiration, often referred to but seldom attained, in which a
public meeting is transformed, as it were, into a single indi-
viduality, the orator swaying a thousand heads and hearts at
once, and by the simple majesty of his all-controlling thought,
converting his hearers into the express image of his own soul.
That night there were at least a thousand Garrisonians in
Nantucket -
At the close of this great meeting I was duly waited on by
Mr. John A. Collins, then the general agent of the Massachu-
setts Anti-Slavery Society, and urgently solicited by him to
become an agent of that society, and publicly advocate its
principles. I was reluctant to take the proffered position. I
had not been quite three years from slavery and was honestly
distrustful of my ability, and I wished to be excused. Besides,
publicity might discover me to my master, and many other
objections presented themselves. But Mr. Collins was not to
be refused, and I finally consented to go out for three months,
supposing I should in that length of time come to the end of
my story and my consequent usefulness.
Here opened for me a new life—a life for which I had had
no preparation. Mr. Collins used to say when introducing me
to an audience, I was a “graduate from the peculiar institu-
tion, with my diploma written on my back.” The three years
of my freedom had been spent in the hard school of adversity.
My hands seemed to be furnished with something like a
leather coating, and I had marked out for myself a life of
rough labor, suited to the hardness of my hands, as a means
of supporting my family and rearing my children.
Young, ardent, and hopeful, I entered upon this new life in
the full gush of unsuspecting enthusiasm. The cause was
good, the men engaged in it were good, the means to attain its
triumph, good. Heaven's blessing must attend all, and free-
dom must soon be given to the millions pining under a ruth-
218 As A CHATTEL.
less bondage. My whole heart went with the holy cause, and
my most fervent prayer to the Almighty Disposer of the hearts
of men, was continually offered for its early triumph. In this
enthusiastic spirit I dropped into the ranks of freedom's friends
and went forth to the battle. For a time I was made to for-
get that my skin was dark and my hair crisped. For a time I
regretted that I could not have shared the hardships and dan-
gers endured by the earlier workers for the slave's release. I
found, however, full soon that my enthusiasm had been
entravagant, that hardships and dangers were not all over,
and that the life now before me had its shadows also, as well
as its sunbeams.
Among the first duties assigned me on entering the ranks
was to travel in company with Mr. George Foster to secure
subscribers to the Anti-Slavery Standard and the Liberator.
With him I traveled and lectured through the eastern counties
of Massachusetts. Much interest was awakened—large meet-
ings assembled. Many came, no doubt from curiosity to hear
what a negro could say in his own cause. I was generally
introduced as a “chattel,”—a “thing”—a piece of southern
property—the chairman assuring the audience that it could
speak. Fugitive slaves were rare then, and as a fugitive slave
lecturer, I had the advantage of being a “bran new fact”—
the first one out. Up to that time, a colored man was deemed
a fool who confessed himself a runaway slave, not only because
of the danger to which he exposed himself of being retaken,
but because it was a confession of a very low origin. Some
of my colored friends in New Bedford thought very badly of
my wisdom in thus exposing and degrading myself. The only
precaution I took at the beginning, to prevent Master Thomas
from knowing where I was and what I was about, was the
withholding my former name, my master's name, and the
name of the State and county from which I came. During
the first three or four months my speeches were almost exclu-
sively made up of narrations of my own personal experience
as a slave. “Let us have the facts,” said the people. So also


GIVES HIS HISTORY. 219
said Friend George Foster, who always wished to pin me down
to my simple narrative. “Give us the facts,” said Collins,
“we will take care of the philosophy.” Just here arose some
embarrassment. It was impossible for me to repeat the same
old story, month after month, and to keep up my interest in
it. It was new to the people, it is true, but it was an old story
to me; and to go through with it night after night, was a task
altogether too mechanical for my nature. “Tell your story,
Frederick,” would whisper my revered friend, Mr. Garrison,
as I stepped upon the platform. I could not always follow
the injunction, for I was now reading and thinking. New
views of the subject were being presented to my mind. It
did not entirely satisfy me to narrate wrongs; I felt like
denouncing them. I could not always curb my moral indigna-
tion for the perpetrators of slaveholding villainy, long enough
for a circumstantial statement of the facts which I felt almost
sure everybody must know. Besides, I was growing, and
needed room. “People won't believe you ever was a slave,
Frederick, if you keep on this way,” said friend Foster. “Be
yourself,” said Collins, “and tell your story.” “Better have
a little of the plantation speech than not,” it was said to me; “it
is not best that you seem too learned.” These excellent friends
were actuated by the best of motives, and were not altogether
wrong in their advice; and still I must speak just the word
that seemed to me the word to be spoken by me.
At last the apprehended trouble came People doubted if
I had ever been a slave. They said I did not talk like a slave,
look like a slave, nor act like a slave, and that they believed I
had never been south of Mason and Dixon's line. “He don’t
tell us where he came from-what his master's name was, nor
how he got away; besides he is educated, and is, in this, a
contradiction of all the facts we have concerning the ignor-
ance of the slaves.” Thus I was in a pretty fair way to be
denounced as an impostor. The committee of the Massachu-
setts Anti-Slavery Society knew all the facts in my case, and
agreed with me thus far in the prudence of keeping them

220 FEARS OF RECAPTURE.
private; but going down the aisles of the churches in which
my meetings were held, and hearing the out-spoken Yankees
repeatedly saying, “He’s never been a slave, I’ll warrant
you,” I resolved to dispel all doubt at no distant day, by such
a revelation of facts as could not be made by any other than
a genuine fugitive. In a little less than four years, therefore,
after becoming a public lecturer, I was induced to write out
the leading facts connected with my experience in slavery,
giving names of persons, places, and dates—thus putting it in
the power of any who doubted to ascertain the truth or false-
hood of my story. This statement soon became known in
Maryland, and I had reason to believe that an effort would be
made to recapture me.
It is not probable that any open attempt to secure me as a
slave could have succeeded, further than the obtainment, by
my master, of the money value of my bones and sinews. For-
tunately for me, in the four years of my labors in the aboli-
tion cause, I had gained many friends who would have suffered
themselves to be taxed to almost any extent to save me from
slavery. It was felt that I had committed the double offense
of running away and exposing the secrets and crimes of
slavery and slaveholders. There was a double motive for
seeking my re-enslavement—avarice and vengeance; and
while, as I have said, there was little probability of success-
ful recapture, if attempted openly, I was constantly in danger
of being spirited away at a moment when my friends could
render me no assistance. In traveling about from place to
place, often alone, I was much exposed to this sort of attack.
Any one cherishing the design to betray me, could easily do
so by simply tracing my whereabouts through the anti-slavery
journals, for my movements and meetings were made through
these in advance. My friends, Mr. Garrison and Mr. Phillips,
had no faith in the power of Massachusetts to protect me in
my right to liberty. Public sentiment and the law, in their
opinion, would hand me over to the tormentors. Mr. Phillips
especially considered me in danger, and said when I showed

WARNED BY PHILLIPS. 221
him the manuscript of my story, if in my place, he would
“throw it into the fire.” Thus the reader will observe that
the overcoming one difficulty only opened the way for another;
and that though I had reached a free State, and had attained
a position for public usefulness, I was still under the liability
of losing all I had gained.
CHAPTER IV.
RECOLLECTIONS OF OLD FRIENDS.
Work in Rhode Island–Dorr War–Recollections of old friends—Further
labors in Rhode Island and elsewhere in New England.
I” the State of Rhode Island, under the leadership of
Thomas W. Dorr, an effort was made in 1841 to set aside.
the old colonial charter, under which that State had lived and
flourished since the Revolution, and to replace it with a new
constitution having such improvements as it was thought that
time and experience had shown to be wise and necessary. This
new constitution was especially framed to enlarge the bases
of representation so far as the white people of the State were
concerned—to abolish an odious property qualification, and to
confine the right of suffrage to white male citizens only.
Mr. Dorr was himself a well-meaning man, and, after his
fashion, a man of broad and progressive views, quite in
advance of the party with which he acted. To gain their sup-
port, he consented to this restriction to a class, a right which
ought to be enjoyed by all citizens. In this he consulted policy
rather than right, and at last shared the fate of all compro-
misers and trimmers, for he was disastrously defeated. The
proscriptive features of his constitution shocked the sense of
right and roused the moral indignation of the abolitionists of
the State, a class which would otherwise have gladly co-
operated with him, at the same time that it did nothing to win
support from the conservative class which clung to the old
charter. Anti-slavery men wanted a new constitution, but
they did not want a defective instrument which required
reform at the start. The result was that such men as William
M. Chase, Thomas Davis, George L. Clark, Asa Fairbanks,
Alphonso Janes, and others of Providence, the Perry brothers

(222)

ABOLITIONISTS IN RELODE ISLAND. 223
of Westerly, John Brown and C. C. Eldridge of East Green-
wich, Daniel Mitchell, William Adams, and Robert Shove of
Pawtucket, Peleg Clark, Caleb Kelton, G. J. Adams, and the
Anthonys and Goulds of Coventry and vicinity, Edward Norris
of Woonsocket, and other abolitionists of the State, decided
that the time had come when the people of Rhode Island
might be taught a more comprehensive gospel of human rights
than had gotten itself into this Dorr constitution. The public
mind was awake, and one class of its people at least was ready
to work with us to the extent of seeking to defeat the proposed
constitution, though their reasons for such work were far
different from ours. Stephen S. Foster, Parker Pillsbury,
Abby Kelley, James Monroe, and myself, were called into the
State to advocate equal rights as against this narrow and pro-
scriptive constitution. The work to which we were invited
was not free from difficulty. The majority of the people were
evidently with the new constitution; even the word white in
it chimed well with the popular prejudice against the colored
race, and at the first helped to make the movement popular.
On the other hand, all the arguments which the Dorr men
could urge against a property qualification for suffrage were
equally cogent against a color qualification, and this was our
advantage. But the contest was intensely bitter and exciting.
We were as usual denounced as intermeddlers (carpet-bagger
had not come into use at that time) and were told to mind
our own business, and the like, a mode of defense common to
men when called to account for mean and discreditable conduct.
Stephen S. Foster, Parker Pillsbury, and the rest of us were
not the kind of men to be ordered off by that sort of opposi-
tion. We cared nothing for the Dorr party on the one hand,
nor the “law and order party” on the other. What we wanted,
and what we labored to obtain, was a constitution free from
the narrow, selfish, and senseless limitation of the word white.
Naturally enough when we said a strong and striking word
against the Dorr Constitution the conservatives were pleased
and applauded, while the Dorr men were disgusted and indig.
advocates the cause of the American slave ever had. No white
224 A SIMPLE QUAKER BEAUTY.
nant. Foster and Pillsbury were like the rest of us, young,
strong, and at their best in this contest. The splendid vehe-
mence of the one, and the weird and terrible denunciations of
the other, never failed to stir up mobocratic wrath wherever
they spoke. Foster especially, was effective in this line. His
theory was that he must make converts or mobs. If neither
came he charged it either to his want of skill or his unfaithful-
ness. I was much with Mr. Foster during the tour in Rhode
Island, and though at times he seemed to me extravagant and
needlessly offensive in his manner of presenting his ideas, yet
take him for all in all, he was one of the most impressive
man ever made the black man's cause more completely his
own. Abby Kelley, since Abby Kelley Foster, was perhaps
the most successful of any of us. Her youth and simple
Quaker beauty combined with her wonderful earnestness, her
large knowledge and great logical power, bore down all oppo-
sition in the end, wherever she spoke, though she was before
pelted with foul eggs, and no less foul words from the noisy
mobs which attended us.
Monroe and I were less aggressive than either of our co-
workers, and of course did not provoke the same resistance.
He at least, had the eloquence that charms, and the skill tha
disarms. I think that our labors in Rhode Island during this
Dorr excitement did more to abolitionize the State, than any
previous, or subsequent work. It was the “tide,” “taken at
the flood.” One effect of those labors was to induce the old
“Law and Order ’’ party, when it set about making its new
constitution, to avoid the narrow folly of the Dorrites, and
make a constitution which should not abridge any man’s rights
on account of race or color. Such a constitution was finally
adopted.
Owing perhaps to my efficiency in this campaign I was for a
while employed in farther labors in Rhode Island by the State
Anti-Slavery Society, and made there many friends to my
cause as well as to myself. As a class the abolitionists of this




COLORED MEN PROSCRIBED. 225
State partook of the spirit of its founder. They had their own
opinions, were independent, and called no man master. I
have reason to remember them most gratefully. They received
me as a man and a brother, when I was new from the house
of bondage, and had few of the graces derived from free and
refined society. They took me with earnest hand to their
homes and hearths, and made me feel that though I wore the
burnished livery of the sun I was still a countryman and kins-
man of whom they were never ashamed. I can never forget
the Clarks, Keltons, Chaces, Browns, Adams, Greenes, Sis-
sons, Eldredges, Mitchells, Shoves, Anthonys, Applins, James,
Goulds, and Fairbanks, and many others.
While thus remembering the noble anti-slavery men and
women of Rhode Island, I do not forget that I suffered much
rough usage within her borders. It was like all the northern
States at that time, under the influence of slave power, and
often showed a proscription and persecuting spirit, especially
upon its railways, steamboats, and public houses. The Ston-
ington route was a “hard road” for a colored man “to
travel” in that day. I was several times dragged from the
cars for the crime of being colored. On the Sound between
New York and Stonington, there were the same proscriptions
which I have before named as enforced on the steamboats
running between New York and Newport. No colored man
was allowed abaft the wheel, and in all seasons of the year, in
heat or cold, wet or dry, the deck was his only place. If I
would lie down at night I must do so upon the freight on
deck, and this in cold weather was not a very comfortable
bed. When traveling in company with my white friends I
always urged them to leave me and go into the cabin and take
their comfortable berths. I saw no reason why they should be
miserable because I was. Some of them took my advice Very
readily. I confess, however, that while I was entirely honest
in urging them to go, and saw no principle that should bind
them to stay and suffer with me, I always felt a little nearer

226 HARTFORD CLOSED ITS DOORS.
to those who did not take my advice and persisted in sharing
my hardships with me. -
There is something in the world above fixed rules and the
logic of right and wrong, and there is some foundation for
recognizing works, which may be called works of supereroga-
tion. Wendell Phillips, James Monroe, and William White,
were always dear to me for their nice feeling at this point. I
have known James Monroe to pull his coat about him and
crawl upon the cotton bales between decks and pass the night
with me, without a murmur. Wendell Phillips would never
go into a first-class car while I was forced into what was called
the Jim Crow car. True men they were, who could accept
welcome at no man's table where I was refused. I speak of these
gentlemen, not as singular or exceptional cases, but as repre-
sentatives of a large class of the early workers for the aboli-
tion of slavery. As a general rule there was little difficulty
in obtaining suitable places in New England after 1840, where
I could plead the cause of my people. The abolitionists had
passed the Red Sea of mobs, and had conquered the right to a
respectful hearing. I, however, found several towns in which
the people closed their doors and refused to entertain the sub-
ject. Notably among these was Hartford, Conn., and Grafton,
Mass. In the former place Messrs. Garrison, Hudson, Foster,
Abby Kelley, and myself determined to hold our meetings
under the open sky, which we did in a little court under the
eaves of the “sanctuary " ministered unto by the Rev. Dr.
Hawes, with much satisfaction to ourselves, and I think with
advantage to our cause. In Grafton I was alone, and there
was neither house, hall, church, nor market-place in which I
could speak to the people, but determined to speak I went to
the hotel and borrowed a dinner bell with which in hand I
passed through the principal streets, ringing the bell and cry-
ing out, “ Notice / Frederick Douglass, recently a slave, will
lecture on American Slavery, on Grafton Common, this evening
at 7 o'clock. Those who would like to hear of the workings of
slavery by one of the slaves are respectfully invited to attend."

Ej ECTED FROM RAILROAD CAR. - 227
This notice brought out a large audience, after which the
largest church in town was open to me. Only in one instance
was I compelled to pursue this course thereafter, and that was
in Manchester, N. H., and my labors there were followed by
similar results. When people found that I would be heard,
they saw it was the part of wisdom to open the way for me.
My treatment in the use of public conveyances about these
times was extremely rough, especially on the “Eastern Rail-
road, from Boston to Portland.” On that road, as on many
others, there was a mean, dirty, and uncomfortable car set
apart for colored travelers, called the “Jim Crow’ car.
Regarding this as the fruit of slaveholding prejudice, and
being determined to fight the spirit of slavery wherever I
might find it, I resolved to avoid this car, though it sometimes
required some courage to do so. The colored people generally
accepted the situation, and complained of me as making mat-
ters worse rather than better by refusing to submit to this
proscription. I, however, persisted, and sometimes was
soundly beaten by conductor and brakeman. On one occasion
six of these “fellows of the baser sort,” under the direction
of the conductor, set out to eject me from my seat. As usual,
I had purchased a first-class ticket, and paid the required sum
for it, and on the requirement of the conductor to leave refused
to do so, when he called on these men “to snake me out.”
They attempted to obey with an air which plainly told me
they relished the job. They, however, found me much attached
to my seat, and in removing me I tore away two or three of
the surrounding ones, on which I held with a firm grasp, and
did the car no service in some other respects. I was strong
and muscular, and the seats were not then so firmly attached
or of as solid make as now. The result was that Stephen A.
Chase, superintendent of the road, ordered all passenger trains
to pass through Lynn (where I then lived) without stopping.
This was a great inconvenience to the people, large numbers
of whom did business in Boston, and at other points of the
road. Led on, however, by James N. Buffum, Jonathan

228 A BETTER PRACTICE.
Buffum, Christopher Robinson, William Bassett, and others,
the people of Lynn stood bravely by me, and denounced the
railroad management in emphatic terms. Mr. Chase made
reply that a railroad corporation was neither a religious nor
reformatory body; that the road was run for the accommoda-
tion of the public, and that it required the exclusion of colored
people from its cars. With an air of triumph he told us that
we ought not to expect a railroad company to be better than
the evangelical church, and that until the churches abolished
the “negro pew,” we ought not to expect the railroad com-
pany to abolish the negro car. This argument was certainly
good enough as against the church, but good for nothing as
against the demands of justice and equality. My old and dear
friend, J. N. Buffum, made a point against the company that
they “often allowed dogs and monkeys to ride in first-class
cars, and yet excluded a man like Frederick Douglass' " In
a very few years this barbarous practice was put away, and I
think there have been no instances of such exclusion during
the past thirty years; and colored people now, everywhere
in New England, ride upon equal terms with other passengers.

CHAPTER W.
ONE HUNDRED CONVENTIONS.
Anti-slavery conventions held in parts of New England, and in some of the
Middle and Western States—Mobs—Incidents, etc.
HE year 1843 was one of remarkable anti-slavery activ-
ity. The New England Anti-Slavery Society at its
annual meeting, held in the spring of that year, resolved,
under the auspices of Mr. Garrison and his friends, to hold a
series of one hundred conventions. The territory embraced
in this plan for creating anti-slavery sentiment included New
Hampshire, Vermont, New York, Ohio, Indiana, and Pennsyl-
vania. I had the honor to be chosen one of the agents to
assist in these proposed conventions, and I never entered upon
any work with more heart and hope. All that the American
people needed, I thought, was light. Could they know slavery
as I knew it, they would hasten to the work of its extinction.
The corps of speakers who were to be associated with me in
carrying on these conventions were Messrs. George Bradburn,
John A. Collins, James Monroe, William A. White, Charles
L. Remond, and Sydney Howard Gay. They were all masters
of the subject, and some of them able and eloquent orators.
It was a piece of great good fortune to me, only a few years
from slavery as I was, to be brought into contact with such
men. It was a real campaign, and required nearly six months
for its accomplishment.
Those who only know the State of Vermont as it is to-day,
can hardly understand, and must wonder that there was need
for anti-slavery effort within its borders forty years ago. Our
first convention was held in Middlebury, its chief seat of
learning, and the home of William Slade, who was for years
the co-worker with John Quincy Adams in Congress; and yet
(229)
230 FORTY YEARS AGO.
in this town the opposition to our anti-slavery convention was
intensely bitter and violent. The only man of note in the
town whom I now remember as giving us sympathy or wel-
come was Mr. Edward Barber, who was a man of courage as
well as ability, and did his best to make our convention a suc-
cess. In advance of our arrival, the college students had very
industriously and mischievously placarded the town with vio.
lent aspersions of our characters, and the grossest misrepre-
sentations of our principles, measures, and objects. I was
described as an escaped convict from the State Prison, and
the other speakers were assailed not less slanderously. Few
people attended our meeting, and apparently little was accom-
plished by it. In the neighboring town of Ferrisburgh the
case was different and more favorable. The way had been
prepared for us by such stalwart anti-slavery workers as Orson
S. Murray, Charles C. Burleigh, Rowland T. Robinson, and
others. Upon the whole, however, the several towns visited
showed that Vermont was surprisingly under the influence of
the slave power. Her proud boast that no slave had ever
been delivered up to his master within her borders did not
hinder her hatred to anti-slavery. What was true of the Green
Mountain State in this respect, was most discouragingly true
of New York, the State next visited. All along the Erie
canal, from Albany to Buffalo, there was apathy, indifference,
aversion, and sometimes mobocratic spirit evinced. Even
Syracuse, afterwards the home of the humane Samuel J. May,
and the scene of the “Jerry rescue,” where Gerrit Smith,
Beriah Greene, William Goodell, Alvin Stewart, and other
able men since taught their noblest lessons, would not at that
time furnish us with church, market, house, or hall in which
to hold our meetings. Discovering this state of things, some
of our number were disposed to turn our backs upon the town.
and shake its dust from our feet, but of these, I am glad tº
say, I was not one. I had somewhere read of a command tº
go into the hedges and highways and compel men to come in
Mr. Stephen Smith, under whose hospitable roof we were made



































RECEPTION IN SYRACUSE. 231
at home, thought as I did. It would be easy to silence anti-
slavery agitation if refusing its agents the use of halls and
churches could effect that result. The house of our friend
Smith stood on the southwest corner of the park, which was
well covered with young trees, too small to furnish shade or
shelter, but better than none. Taking my stand under a small
tree, in the southeast corner of this park, I began to speak in
the morning to an audience of five persons, and before the
close of my afternoon meeting I had before me not less than
five hundred. In the evening I was waited upon by officers
of the Congregational church, and tendered the use of an old
wooden building, which they had deserted for a better, but
still owned ; and here our convention was continued during
three days. I believe there has been no trouble to find places
in Syracuse in which to hold anti-slavery meetings since. I
never go there without endeavoring to see that tree, which,
like the cause it sheltered, has grown large and strong and
imposing. -
I believe my first offence against our Anti-Slavery Israel
was committed during these Syracuse meetings. It was on
this wise: Our general agent, John A. Collins, had recently
returned from England full of communistic ideas, which ideas
would do away with individual property, and have all things
in common. He had arranged a corps of speakers of his com-
munistic persuasion, consisting of John O. Wattles, Nathaniel
Whiting, and John Orvis, to follow our anti-slavery conven-
tions, and while our meeting was in progress in Syracuse, a
meeting, as the reader will observe, obtained under much diffi-
culty, Mr. Collins came in with his new friends and doctrines,
and proposed to adjourn our anti-slavery discussions and take
up the subject of communism. To this I ventured to object.
I held that it was imposing an additional burden of unpopu-
larity on our cause, and an act of bad faith with the people,
who paid the salary of Mr. Collins, and were responsible for
these hundred conventions. Strange to say, my course in this
matter did ". meet the approval of Mrs. M. W. Chapman, an

232 OPPOSES COMMUNIST.S.
influential member of the board of managers of the Massachu-
setts Anti-Slavery Society, and called out a sharp reprimand
from her, for my insubordination to my superiors. This was a
strange and distressing revelation to me, and one of which I was
not soon relieved. I thought I had only done my duty, and I
think so still. The chief reason for the reprimand was the use
which the liberty party papers would make of my seeming re-
bellion against the commanders of our Anti-Slavery Army.
In the growing city of Rochester we had in every way a
better reception. Abolitionists of all shades of opinion were
broad enough to give the Garrisonians (for such we were) a
hearing. Samuel D. Porter and the Avery family, though
they belonged to the Gerrit Smith, Myron Holly, and William
Goodell school, were not so narrow as to refuse us the use of
their church for the convention. They heard our moral
suasion arguments, and in a manly way met us in debate.
We were opposed to carrying the anti-slavery cause to the
ballot-box, and they believed in carrying it there. They
looked at slavery as a creature of law; we regarded it as a
creature of public opinion. It is surprising how small the
difference appears as I look back to it, over the space of forty
years; yet at the time of it this difference was immense.
During our stay at Rochester we were hospitably entertained
by Isaac and Amy Post, two people of all-abounding benevo-
lence, the truest and best of Long Island and Elias Hicks
Quakers. They were not more amiable than brave, for they
never seemed to ask, What will the world say but walked
straight forward in what seemed to them the line of duty,
please or offend whomsoever it might. Many a poor fugitive
slave found shelter under their roof when such shelter was
hard to find elsewhere, and I mention them here in the warmth
and fullness of earnest gratitude.
Pleased with our success in Rochester, we-that is Mr.
Bradburn and myself—made our way to Buffalo, then a rising
city of steamboats, bustle, and business. Buffalo was too busy
to attend to such matters as we had in hand. Our friend, Mr.




AT ROCHESTER. 235
Marsh, had been able to secure for our convention only an old
delapidated and deserted room, formerly used as a post-office.
We went at the time appointed, and found seated a few cab-
men in their coarse, every-day clothes, whips in hand, while
their teams were standing on the street waiting for a job.
Friend Bradburn looked around upon this unpromising audi-
ence, and turned upon his heel, saying he would not speak to
“such a set of ragamuffins,” and took the first steamer to
Cleveland, the home of his brother Charles, and left me to
“do” Buffalo alone. For nearly a week I spoke every day in
this old post-office to audiences constantly increasing in num-
bers and respectability, till the Baptist church was thrown
open to me; and when this became too small I went on
Sunday into the open Park and addressed an assembly of four
or five thousand persons. After this my colored friends,
Charles L. Remond, Henry Highland Garnett, Theodore S.
Wright, Amos G. Beaman, Charles M. Ray, and other well-
known colored men, held a convention here, and then Remond
and myself left for our next meeting in Chester county, Ohio.
This was held under a great shed, built by the abolitionists, of
whom Dr. Abram Brook and Valentine Nicholson were the
most noted, for this special purpose. Thousands gathered
here and were addressed by Bradburn, White, Monroe, Remond,
Gay, and myself. The influence of this meeting was deep and
wide-spread. It would be tedious to tell of all, or a small part
of all that was interesting and illustrative of the difficulties
encountered by the early advocates of anti-slavery in con-
nection with this campaign, and hence I leave this part of it
at once. -
From Ohio we divided our forces and went into Indiana.
At our first meeting we were mobbed, and some of us got our
good clothes spoiled by evil-smelling eggs. This was at Rich.
mond, where Henry Clay had been recently invited to the
high seat of the Quaker meeting-house just after his grOSS
abuse of Mr. Mendenhall, because of his presenting him a
respectful petition, asking him to emancipate his slaves. At

234 IN INDIANA.
Pendleton this mobocratic spirit was even more pronounced.
It was found impossible to obtain a building in which to hold
our convention, and our friends, Dr. Fussell and others, erected
a platform in the woods, where quite a large audience assem-
bled. Mr. Bradburn, Mr. White, and myself were in attend-
ance. As soon as we began to speak a mob of about sixty of
the roughest characters I ever looked upon ordered us, through
its leaders, to “be silent,” threatening us, if we were not,
with violence. We attempted to dissuade them, but they had
not come to parley but to fight, and were well armed. They
tore down the platform on which we stood, assaulted Mr.
White and knocking out several of his teeth, dealt a heavy
blow on William A. White, striking him on the back part of
the head, badly cutting his scalp and felling him to the
ground. Undertaking to fight my way through the crowd
with a stick which I caught up in the mêlée, I attracted the
fury of the mob, which laid me prostrate on the ground under
a torrent of blows. Leaving me thus, with my right hand
broken, and in a state of unconsciousness, the mobocrats hastily
mounted their horses and rode to Andersonville, where most
of them resided. I was soon raised up and revived by Neal
Hardy, a kind-hearted member of the Society of Friends, and
carried by him in his wagon about three miles in the country
to his home, where I was tenderly nursed and bandaged by
good Mrs. Hardy till I was again on my feet, but as the bones
broken were not properly set my hand has never recovered
its natural strength and dexterity. We lingered long in
Indiana, and the good effects of our labors there are felt at this
day. I have lately visited Pendleton, now one of the best
republican towns in the State, and looked again upon the spot
where I was beaten down, and have again taken by the hand
some of the witnesses of that scene, amongst whom was the
kind, good lady–Mrs. Hardy—who, so like the good Samaritan
of old, bound up my wounds, and cared for me so kindly. A
complete history of these hundred conventions would fill a
volume far larger than the one in which this simple reference
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FIGHTING THE MOB IN INDIAN A.




HIS MISSIONARY COMPANIONS. 235
is to find a place. It would be a grateful duty to speak of the
noble young men, who forsook ease and pleasure, as did White,
Gay, and Monroe, and endured all manner of privations in the
cause of the enslaved and down-trodden of my race. Gay,
Monroe, and myself are the only ones who participated as agents
in the one hundred conventions who now survive. Mr. Monroe
was for many years consul to Brazil, and has since been a faith-
ful member of Congress from the Oberlin District, Ohio, and has
filled other important positions in his State. Mr. Gay was
managing editor of the Vational Anti-Slavery Standard, and
afterwards of the New York Tribune, and still later of the
New York Evening Post.
CHAPTER WI.
IMPRESSIONS ABROAD.
Danger to be averted—A refuge sought abroad–Voyage on the steamshi -
Cambria—Refusal of first-class passage—Attractions of the forecastle
insulted—Captain threatens to put them in irons—Experiences abroad–
Attentions received—Impressions of different members of Parliament,
and of other public men—Contrast with life in America–Kindness of
friends—Their purchase of my person, and the gift of the same to myself
—My return.
SI have before intimated, the publishing of my “Narra-
tive” was regarded by my friends with mingled feel-
ings of satisfaction and apprehension. They were glad to
have the doubts and insinuations which the advocates and
apologists of slavery had made against me proved to the world
to be false, but they had many fears lest this very proof would
endanger my safety, and make it necessary for me to leave a
position which in a signal manner had opened before me, and
one in which I had thus far been efficient in assisting to arouse
the moral sentiment of the community against a system which
had deprived me, in common with my fellow-slaves, of all the
attributes of manhood.
I became myself painfully alive to the liability which sur-
rounded me, and which might at any moment scatter all my
proud hopes, and return me to a doom worse than death. It
was thus I was led to seek a refuge in monarchial England,
from the dangers of republican slavery. A rude, uncultivated
fugitive slave, I was driven to that country to which Ameri-
can young gentlemen go to increase their stock of knowledge
—to seek pleasure, and to have their rough democratic man-
ners softened by contact with English aristocratic refinement. .
My friend, James N. Buffum of Lynn, Mass., who was to
*




(236)

THE HUTCHINSON FAMILY. 237
accompany me, applied on board the steamer Cambria, of the
Cunard line, for tickets, and was told that I could not be
received as a cabin passenger. American prejudice against
color had triumphed over British liberality and civilization,
and had erected a color test as condition for crossing the sea
in the cabin of a British vessel.
The insult was keenly felt by my white friends, but to me
such insults were so frequent, and expected, that it was of no
great consequence whether I went in the cabin or in the steer-
age. Moreover, I felt that if I could not go in the first cabin,
first cabin passengers could come in the second cabin, and in
this thought I was not mistaken, as I soon found myself an
object of more general interest than I wished to be, and, so
far from being degraded by being placed in the second cabin,
that part of the ship became the scene of as much pleasure
and refinement as the cabin itself. The Hutchinson family
from New Hampshire–sweet singers of anti-slavery and the
“good time coming”—were fellow-passengers, and often came
to my rude forecastle-deck and sang their sweetest songs,
making the place eloquent with music and alive with spirited
conversation. They not only visited me, but invited me to
visit them; and in two days after leaving Boston one part of
the ship was about as free to me as another. My visits there,
however, were but seldom. I preferred to live within my privi-
leges, and keep upon my own premises. This course was quite
as much in accord with good policy as with my own feelings.
The effect was that with the majority of the passengers all
color distinctions were flung to the winds, and I found myself
treated with every mark of respect from the beginning to the
end of the voyage, except in one single instance; and in that
I came near being mobbed for complying with an invitation
given me by the passengers and the captain of the Cambria
to deliver a lecture on slavery. There were several young
men—passengers from Georgia and New Orleans; and they
were pleased to regard my lecture as an insult offered to them,
and swore I should not speak. They went so far as to threaten
238 HIS RECEPTION IN ENGLAND.
to throw me overboard, and but for the firmness of Captain
Judkins, they would probably, under the inspiration of slavery
and brandy, have attempted to put their threats into execu-
tion. I have no space to describe this scene, although its
tragic and comic features are well worth description. An end
was put to the mélee by the captain's call to the ship's com-
pany to put the salt-water mobocrats in irons, at which deter
mined order the gentlemen of the lash scampered, and for
the remainder of the voyage conducted themselves very
decorously.
This incident of the voyage brought me, within two days
after landing at Liverpool, before the British public. The gen-
tleman so promptly withheld in their attempted violence toward
me flew to the press to justify their conduct, and to denounce
me as a worthless and insolent negro. This course was even
less wise than the conduct it was intended to sustain; for,
besides awakening something like a national interest in me,
and securing me an audience, it brought out counter state-
ments, and threw the blame upon themselves which they had
sought to fasten upon me and the gallant captain of the ship.
My visit to England did much for me every way. Not the
least among the many advantages derived from it was in the
opportunity it afforded me of becoming acquainted with edu.
cated people, and of seeing and hearing many of the most
distinguished men of that country. My friend, Mr. Wendell
Phillips, knowing something of my appreciation of orators
and oratory, had said to me before leaving Boston: “Although
Americans are generally better speakers than Englishmen, you ||
will find in England individual orators superior to the best of -
ours.” I do not know that Mr. Phillips was quite just to
himself in this remark, for I found in England few, if any,
superior to him in the gift of speech. When I went to
England that country was in the midst of a tremendous agita-
tion. The people were divided by two great questions of
“Repeal;"—the repeal of the corn laws, and the repeal of the
union between England and Ireland.


COBDEN AND BRIGHT. 239
Debate ran high in Parliament, and among the people every-
where, especially concerning the corn laws. Two powerful
interests of the country confronted each other: one venerable
from age, and the other young, stalwart, and growing. Both
strove for ascendancy. Conservatism united for retaining the
corn laws, while the rising power of commerce and manufactures
demanded repeal. It was interest against interest, but som.e-
thing more and deeper: for, while there was aggrandizement
of the landed aristocracy on the one side, there was famine
and pestilence on the other. Of the anti-corn law movement,
Richard Cobden and John Bright, both then members of Par-
liament, were the leaders. They were the rising statesmen of
England, and possessed a very friendly disposition toward
America. Mr. Bright, who is now Right Honorable John
Bright, and occupies a high place in the British Cabinet, was
friendly to the loyal and progressive spirit which abolished
our slavery and saved our country from dismemberment. I
have seen and heard both of these great men, and, if I may
be allowed so much egotism, I may say I was acquainted with
both of them. I was, besides, a welcome guest at the house
of Mr. Bright, in Rochdale, and treated as a friend and brother
among his brothers and sisters. Messrs. Cobden and Bright
were well-matched leaders. One was in large measure the
complement of the other. They were spoken of usually as
Cobden and Bright, but there was no reason, except that Cob-
den was the elder of the two, why their names might not have
been reversed.
They were about equally fitted for their respective parts in
the great movement of which they were the distinguished
leaders, and neither was likely to encroach upon the work of
the other. The contrast was quite marked in their persons as
well as in their oratory. The powerful speeches of the one,
as they traveled together over the country, heightened the
effect of the speeches of the other, so that their difference
was about as effective for good as was their agreement. Mr.
Cobden–for an Englishman—was lean, tall, and slightly sal-
11*
240 THEIR APPEARANCE AS ORATORS.
low, and might have been taken for an American or French-
man. Mr. Bright was, in the broadest sense, an Englishman,
abounding in all the physical perfections peculiar to his coun-
trymen—full, round, and ruddy. Cobden had dark eyes and
hair, a well-formed head, high above his shoulders, and, when
sitting quiet, had a look of sadness and fatigue. In the House
of Commons, he often sat with one hand supporting his head.
Bright appeared the very opposite in this and other respects.
His eyes were blue, his hair light, his head massive, and firmly
set upon his shoulders, suggesting immense energy and deter-
mination. In his oratory Mr. Cobden was cool, candid, delib-
erate, straight-forward, yet at times slightly hesitating.
Bright, on the other hand, was fervid, fluent, rapid; always
ready in thought or word. Mr. Cobden was full of facts and
figures, dealing in statistics by the hour. Mr. Bright was full
of wit, knowledge, and pathos, and possessed amazing power
of expression. One spoke to the cold, calculating side of the
British nation, which asks “if the new idea will pay tº The
other spoke to the infinite side of human nature—theside which
asks, first of all, “is it right is it just? is it humane?”
Wherever these two great men appeared, the people assembled
in thousands. They could, at an hour's notice, pack the town
hall of Birmingham, which would hold seven thousand per-
sons, or the Free Trade Hall in Manchester, and Covent Gar-
den theater, London, each of which was capable of holding
eight thousand. -
One of the first attentions shown me by these gentlemen
was to make me welcome at the Free Trade club in London.
I was not long in England before a crisis was reached in
the anti-corn law movement. The announcement that Sir
Robert Peel, then prime minister of England, had become a
convert to the views of Messrs. Cobden and Bright, came upon
the country with startling effect, and formed the turning-
point in the anti-corn law question. Sir Robert had been the
strong defense of the landed aristocracy of England, and his
defection left them without a competent leader, and just here


THE CORN LAW DECISIONS. - 241
came the opportunity for Mr. Benjamin Disraeli, the Hebrew
—since Lord Beaconsfield. To him it was in public affairs,
the “tide which led on to fortune.” With a bitterness unsur-
passed, he had been denounced by reason of his being a Jew,
as a lineal descendant of the thief on the cross. But now his
time had come, and he was not the man to permit it to pass
unimproved. For the first time, it seems, he conceived the
idea of placing himself at the head of a great party, and thus
become the chief defender of the landed aristocracy. The way
was plain. He was to transcend all others in effective denun-
ciation of Sir Robert Peel, and surpass all others in zeal. His
ability was equal to the situation, and the world knows the
result of his ambition. I watched him narrowly when I saw
him in the House of Commons, but I saw and heard nothing
there that foreshadowed the immense space he at last came
to fill in the mind of his country and the world. He had
nothing of the grace and warmth of Peel in debate, and his
speeches were better in print than when listened to, yet when
he spoke, all eyes were fixed, and all ears attent. Despite all
his ability and power, however, as the defender of the landed
interests of England, his cause was already lost. The increas-
ing power of the anti-corn law league—the burden of the tax
upon bread, the cry of distress coming from famine-stricken
Ireland, and the adhesion of Peel to the views of Cobden and
Bright made the repeal of the corn laws speedy and certain.
The repeal of the union between England and Ireland was
not so fortunate. It is still, under one name or another, the
cherished hope and inspiration of her sons. It stands little
better or stronger than it did six and thirty years ago, when
its greatest advocate, Daniel O'Connell, welcomed me to Ire-
land, and to “Conciliation Hall,” and where I first had a speci-
men of his truly wondrous eloquence. Until I heard this
man, I had thought that the story of his oratory and power
were greatly exaggerated. I did not see how a man could
speak to twenty or thirty thousand people at one time, and be
heard by any considerable number of them; but the mystery
242 O. A. BROWNSON.
was solved when I saw his vast person, and heard his musical
voice. His eloquence came down upon the vast assembly like
a summer thunder-shower upon a dusty road. He could stir
the multitude at will, to a tempest of wrath, or reduce it to
the silence with which a mother leaves the cradle-side of her
sleeping babe. Such tenderness—such pathos—such world-
embracing love! and, on the other hand, such indignation—
such fiery and thunderous denunciation, and such wit and
humor, I never heard surpassed, if equaled, at home or abroad.
He held Ireland within the grasp of his strong hand, and
could lead it withersoever he would, for Ireland believed in
him and loved him, as she has loved and believed in no leader
since. In Dublin, when he had been absent from that city a
few weeks, I saw him followed through Sackwell street by a
multitude of little boys and girls, shouting in loving accents:
“There goes Dan there goes Dan l’’ while he looked at the
ragged and shoeless crowd with the kindly air of a loving
parent returning to his gleeful children. He was called “The
Liberator,” and not without cause; for, though he failed to
effect the repeal of the union between England and Ireland,
he fought out the battle of Catholic emancipation, and was
clearly the friend of liberty the world over. In introducing
me to an immense audience in Conciliation Hall, he playfully
called me the “Black O’Connell of the United States; ” nor
did he let the occasion pass without his usual word of denun-
ciation of our slave system. O. A. Brownson had then recently
become a Catholic, and taking advantage of his new Catholic
audience, in “Brownson's Review,” had charged O'Connell with
attacking American institutions. In reply, Mr. O'Connell
said: “I am charged with attacking American institutions, as
slavery is called; I am not ashamed of this attack. My sym-
pathy is not confined to the narrow limits of my own green
Ireland; my spirit walks abroad upon sea and land, and
wherever there is oppression, I hate the oppressor, and
wherever the tyrant rears his head, I will deal my bolts upon
it; and wherever there is sorrow and suffering, there is my




LORD BROUGHAM. 243
spirit to succor and relieve.” No trans-atlantic statesman
bore a testimony more marked and telling against the crime
and curse of slavery than did Daniel O'Connell. He would
shake the hand of no slaveholder, nor allow himself to be
introduced to one, if he knew him to be such. When the
friends of repeal in the Southern States sent him money with
which to carry on his work, he, with ineffable scorn, refused
the bribe, and sent back what he considered the blood-stained
offering, saying he would “never purchase the freedom of
Ireland with the price of slaves.”
It was not long after my seeing Mr. O'Connell that his
health broke down, and his career ended in death. I felt that
a great champion of freedom had fallen, and that the cause
of the American slave, not less than the cause of his country,
had met with a great loss. All the more was this felt when I
saw the kind of men who came to the front when the voice of
O'Connell was no longer heard in Ireland. He was succeeded
by the Duffys, Mitchells, Meagher, and others, men who
loved liberty for themselves and their country, but were
utterly destitute of sympathy with the cause of liberty in
countries other than their own. One of the first utterances
of John Mitchell on reaching this country, from his exile and
bondage, was a wish for a “slave plantation, well stocked with
slaves.”
Besides hearing Cobden, Bright, Peel, Disraeli, O'Connell,
Lord John Russell, and other Parliamentary debaters, it was
my good fortune to hear Lord Brougham when nearly at his
best. He was then a little over sixty, and that for a British
statesman is not considered old ; and in his case there were
thirty years of life still before him. He struck me as the
most wonderful speaker of them all. How he was ever
reported I cannot imagine. Listening to him was like stand-
ing near the track of a railway train, drawn by a locomotive
at the rate of forty miles an hour. You were riveted to the
spot, charmed with the sublime spectacle of speed and power,
but could give no description of the carriages, nor of the pas-
-
244 WILLIAM AND MARY HOWITT.
sengers at the windows. There was so much to see and hear,
and so little time left the beholder and hearer to note particu-
lars, that when this strange man sat down you felt like one
who had hastily passed through the wildering wonders of a
world’s exhibition. On the occasion of my listening to him,
his speech was on the postal relations of England with the
outside world, and he seemed to have a perfect knowledge of
the postal arrangements of every nation in Europe, and, indeed,
in the whole universe. He possessed the great advantage so
valuable to a Parliamentary debater, of being able to make
all interruptions serve the purposes of his thought and speech,
and carry on a dialogue with several persons without inter-
rupting the rapid current of his reasoning. I had more curi-
osity to see and hear this man than any other in England,
and he more than fulfilled my expectations. -
While in England, I saw few literary celebrities, except
William and Mary Howitt, and Sir John Bowering. I was
invited to breakfast by the latter in company with Wm. Lloyd
Garrison, and spent a delightful morning with him, chiefly as
a listener to their conversation. Sir John was a poet, a states-
man, and a diplomat, and had represented England as minis-
ter to China. He was full of interesting information, and had
a charming way of imparting his knowledge. The conversa-
tion was about slavery, and about China, and as my knowl-
edge was very slender about the “Flowery Kingdom,” and its
people, I was greatly interested in Sir John's description of
the ideas and manners prevailing among them. According
to him, the doctrine of substitution was carried so far in that
country that men sometimes procured others to suffer even
the penalty of death in their stead. Justice seemed not in-
tent upon the punishment of the actual criminal, if only some-
body was punished when the law was violated.
William and Mary Howitt were among the kindliest people
I ever met. Their interest in America, and their well-known
testimonies against slavery, made me feel much at home with
them at their house in that part of London known as Clap-






GEORGE COMBE. 245
ham. Whilst stopping here, I met the Swedish poet and
author Hans Christian Anderson. He, like myself, was a
guest, spending a few days. I saw but little of him, though
under the same roof. He was singular in his appearance, and
equally singular in his silence. His mind seemed to me all
the while turned inwardly. He walked about the beautiful
garden as one might in a dream. The Howitts had translated
his works into English, and could of course address him in
his own language. Possibly his bad English and my destitu-
tion of Swedish, may account for the fact of our mutual
silence, and yet I observed he was much the same towards
every one. Mr. and Mrs. Howitt were indefatigable writers.
Two more industrious and kind-hearted people did not breathe.
With all their literary work, they always had time to devote
to strangers, and to all benevolent efforts, to ameliorate the
condition of the poor and needy. Quakers though they were,
they took deep interest in the Hutchinsons—Judson, John,
Asa, and Abby, who were much at their house during my stay
there. Mrs. Howitt not inaptly styled them a “Band of
young apostles.” They sang for the oppressed and the poor
—for liberty and humanity.
Whilst in Edinburgh, so famous for its beauty, its educa-
tional institutions, its literary men, and its history, I had a
very intense desire gratified—and that was to see and con-
verse with George Combe, the eminent mental philosopher,
and author of “Combe's Constitution of Man,” a book which
had been placed in my hands a few years before, by Doctor
Peleg Clark of Rhode Island, the reading of which had
relieved my path of many shadows. In company with George
Thompson, James N. Buffum, and William L. Garrison, I had
the honor to be invited by Mr. Combe to breakfast, and the
occasion was one of the most delightful I met in dear old
Scotland. Of course in the presence of such men, my part
was a very subordinate one. I was a listener. Mr. Combe
did the most of the talking, and did it so well that nobody
felt like interposing a word, except so far as to draw him on.
246 THOMAS CLARKSON.
He discussed the corn laws, and the proposal to reduce the
hours of labor. He looked at all political and social ques-
tions through his peculiar mental science. His manner was
remarkably quiet, and he spoke as not expecting opposition to
his views. Phrenology explained everything to him, from the
finite to the infinite. I look back to the morning spent with
this singularly clear-headed man with much satisfaction.
It would detain the reader too long, and make this volume
too large, to tell of the many kindnesses shown me while
abroad, or even to mention all the great and noteworthy per-
sons who gave me a friendly hand and a cordial welcome; but
there is one other, now long gone to his rest, of whom a few
words must be spoken, and that one was Thomas Clarkson—
the last of the noble line of Englishmen who inaugurated the
anti-slavery movement for England and the civilized world—the
life-long friend and co-worker with Granville Sharpe, William
Wilberforce, Thomas Fowell Buxton, and other leaders in that
great reform which has nearly put an end to slavery in all
parts of the globe. As in the case of George Combe, I went
to see Mr. Clarkson in company with Messrs. Garrison and
Thompson. They had by note advised him of our coming,
and had received one in reply, bidding us welcome. We found
the venerable object of our visit seated at a table, where he
had been busily writing a letter to America against slavery;
for, though in his eighty-seventh year, he continued to write.
When we were presented to him, he rose to receive us. The
scene was impressive. It was the meeting of two centuries.
Garrison, Thompson, and myself were young men. After
shaking hands with my two distinguished friends, and giving
them welcome, he took one of my hands in both of his, and,
in a tremulous voice, said, “God bless you, Frederick Douglass!
I have given sixty years of my life to the emancipation of
your people, and if I had sixty years more they should all be
given to the same cause.”
hearted old man. He was feeble, and our presence greatly
excited him, and we left the house with something of the feel-
Our stay was short with this great-


AUTHOR’s REFLECTIONS. 247
ing with which a man takes final leave of a beloved friend at
the edge of the grave. - -
Some notion may be formed of the difference in my feelings
and circumstances while abroad, from an extract from one
of a series of letters addressed by me to Mr. Garrison, and
published in the Liberator. It was written on the 1st day of
January, 1846.
“My Dear Friend Garrison:
“Up to this time, I have given no direct expression of the views, feelings,
and opinions which I have formed respecting the character and condition of
the people of this land. I have refrained thus purposely. I wish to speak
advisedly, and, in order to do this, I have waited till, I trust, experience has
brought my opinion to an intelligent maturity. I have been thus careful,
not because I think what I say will have much effect in shaping the opinions
of the world, but because what influence I may possess, whether little or
much, I wish to go in the right direction, and according to truth. I hardly
need say that in speaking of Ireland, I shall be influenced by no prejudices
in favor of America. Ithink my circumstances all forbid that. I have no
end to serve, no creed to uphold, no government to defend; and as to nation,
I belong to none. I have no protection at home, or resting-place abroad.
The land of my birth welcomes me to her shores only as a slave, and spurns
with contempt the idea of treating me differently; so that I am an outcast
from the society of my childhood, and an outlaw in the land of my birth.
‘I am a stranger with thee and a sojourner, as all my fathers were.' That
men should be patriotic, is to me perfectly natural; and as a philosophical
fact, I am able to give it an intellectual recognition. But no further can I
go. If ever I had any patriotism, or any capacity for the feeling, it was
whipped out of me long since by the lash of the American soul-drivers. In
thinking of America, I sometimes find myself admiring her bright blue sky,
her grand old woods, her fertile fields, her beautiful rivers, her mighty lakes,
and star-crowned mountains. But my rapture is soon checked—my joy is
soon turned to mourning. When I remember that all is cursed with the
infernal spirit of slaveholding, robbery, and wrong; when I remember that
with the waters of her noblest rivers, the tears of my brethren are borne to
the ocean, disregarded and forgotten, and that her most fertile fields drink
daily of the warm blood of my outraged sisters, I am filled with unuttera.
ble loathing, and led to reproach myself that anything could fall from my
lips º praise of such a land. America will not allow her children to love
her. She seems bent on compelling those who would be her warmest friends,
o be her worst enemies. May God give her repentance before it is too late,
ls the Ardent prayer of my heart. I will continue to pray, labor, and wait,
believing that She cannot always be insensible to the dictates of justice, or
deaf to the voice of humanity. My opportunities for learning the charac-
248 HIS FEELINGS IN ENGLAND.
ter and condition of the people of this land have been very great. I have
traveled from the Hill of Howth to the Giant's Causeway, and from the
Giant's Causeway to Cape Clear. During these travels I have met with
much in the character and condition of the people to approve, and much
to condemn; much that has thrilled me with pleasure, and much that has
filled me with pain. I will not, in this letter, attempt to give any descrip-
tion of those scenes which give me pain. This I will do hereafter. I have
enough, and more than your subscribers will be disposed to read at one time,
of the bright side of the picture. I can truly say ave spent some of the
happiest days of my life since landing in this country. I seem to have
undergone a transformation. I live a new life. The warm and generous
cooperation extended to me by the friends of my despised race; the prompt
and liberal manner with which the press has rendered me its aid; the glori-
ous enthusiasm with which thousands have flocked to hear the cruel wrongs
of my down-trodden and long-enslaved fellow-countrymen portrayed; the
deep sympathy for the slave, and the strong abhorrence of the slaveholder
everywhere evinced; the cordiality with which members and ministers of
various religious bodies, and of various shades of religous opinion have
embraced me and lent me their aid; the kind hospitality constantly prof-
fered me by persons of the highest rank in society; the spirit of freedom
that seems to animate all with whom I come in contact, and the entire
absence of everything that looks like prejudice against me, on account of the
color of my skin, contrasts so strongly with my long and bitter experience
in the United States, that I look with wonder and amazement on the transi.
tion. In the southern part of the United States, I was a slave–thought of
and spoken of as property; in the language of law, held, taken, reputed,
and adjudged to be a chattel in the hands of my owners and possessors, and
their executors, administrators, and assigns, to all intents, constructions, and
purposes, whatsoever.' (Brev. Digest., 224.) In the Northern States, a
fugitive slave, liable to be hunted at any moment like a felon, and to be
hurled into the terrible jaws of slavery—doomed by an inveterate prejudice
against color, to insult and outrage on every hand (Massachusetts out of the
question)—denied the privileges and courtesies common to others in the
use of the most humble means of conveyance—shut out from the cabins on
steamboats, refused admission to respectable hotels, caricatured, scorned,
scoffed, mocked, and maltreated with impunity by any one (no matter how
black his heart), so he has a white skin. But now behold the change
Eleven days and a half gone, and I have crossed three thousand miles of
perilous deep. Instead of a democratic government, I am under a mon-
archial government. Instead of the bright, blue sky of America, I am
covered with the soft, gray fog of the Emerald Isle. I breathe, and lo! the
chattel becomes a man! I gaze around in vain for one who will question
my equal humanity, claim me as a slave, or offer me an insult. I employ
a cab-I am seated beside white people—I reach the hotel—I enter the same
door—I am shown into the same parlor—I dine at the same table—and no


















comp AREs ENGLAND AND UNITED STATES. 249
one is offended. No delicate nose grows deformed in my presence. I find
no difficulty here in obtaining admission into any place of worship, instruº-
tion, or amusement, on equal terms, with people as white as any I ever Saw In
the United States. I meet nothing to remind me of my complexion. I find
egarded and treated at every turn with the kindness and deference
When I go to church I am met by no upturned nose
-->
myself r
paid to white people. - -
and scornful lip, to tell me— We don't allow niggers in here.
I remember about two years ago there was in Boston, near
the southwest corner of Boston Common, a menagerie. I had
long desired to see such a collection as I understood was be-
ing exhibited there. Never having had an opportunity while
a slave, I resolved to seize this, and as I approached the
entrance to gain admission, I was told by the door-keeper, in
a harsh and contemptuous tone, “We don't allow wiggers in
here.” I also remember attending a revival meeting in the
Rev. Henry Jackson's meeting-house, at New Bedford, and
going up the broad aisle for a seat, I was met by a good dea-
con, who told me, in a pious tone, “We don't allow miſſers in
here.” Soon after my arrival in New Bedford, from the South,
1 had a strong desire to attend the lyceum, but was told, “They
don't allow niggers there.” While passing from New York to
Boston on the steamer Massachusetts, on the night of the 9th
of December, 1843, when chilled almost through with the cold,
I went into the cabin to get a little warm. I was soon touched
upon the shoulder, and told, “We don't allow niggers ºn here.”
A week or two before leaving the United States, I had a meet-
ing appointed at Weymouth, the house of that glorious band
of true abolitionists—the Weston family and others. On
attempting to take a seat in the omnibus to that place, I was
told by the driver (and I never shall forget his fiendish hate),
* I don't allow niggers in here.” Thank heaven for the respite
I now enjoy! I had been in Dublin but a few days when a
gentleman of great respectability kindly offered to conduct
me through all the public buildings of that beautiful city, and
soon afterward I was invited by the lord mayor to dine with
him. What a pity there was not some democratic Christian
at the door of his splendid mansion to bark out at my ap-

250 VISITS EATON HALL.
proach, “They don’t allow niggers in here!” The truth is,
the people here know nothing of the republican negro-hate
prevalent in our glorious land. They measure and esteem
men according to their moral and intellectual worth, and not
according to the color of their skin. Whatever may be said
of the aristocracies here, there is none based on the color of
a man’s skin. This species of aristocracy belongs prečmi-
nently to “the land of the free, and the home of the brave.”
I have never found it abroad in any but Americans. It sticks
to them wherever they go. They find it almost as hard to get
rid of as to get rid of their skins.
The second day after my arrival in Liverpool, in company
with my friend Buffum, and several other friends, I went to
Eaton Hall, the residence of the Marquis of Westminster, one
of the most splendid buildings in England. On approaching
the door, I found several of our American passengers who
came out with us in the Cambria, waiting for admission, as
but one party was allowed in the house at a time. We all had
to wait till the company within came out, and of all the faces
expressive of chagrin, those of the Americans were prečmi-
ment. They º as sour as vinegar, and as bitter as gall,
when they found I was to be admitted on equal terms with
themselves. When the door was opened, I walked in on a
footing with my white fellow-citizens, and, from all I could
see, I had as much attention paid me by the servants who
showed us through the house, as any with a paler skin. As I
walked through the building, the statuary did not fall down,
the pictures did not leap from their places, the doors did not
refuse to open, and the servants did not say, “We don't allow
niggers in here.”
My time and labors while abroad were divided between
England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Upon this experi-
ence alone I might fill a volume. Amongst the few incidents
which space will permit me to mention, and one which
attracted much attention and provoked much discussion in
America, was a brief statement made by me in the World's

DR. S. H. COX. 251
Temperance Convention, held in Covent Garden theater, Lon-
don, August 7, 1846. The United States was largely repre-
sented in this convention by eminent divines, mostly doctors
of divinity. They had come to England for the double pur-
pose of attending the World's Evangelical Alliance, and the
World's Temperance Convention. In the former these minis-
ters were endeavoring to procure endorsement for the Chris-
tian character of slaveholders; and, naturally enough, they
were adverse to the exposure of slaveholding practices. It
was not pleasant to them to see one of the slaves running at
large in England, and telling the other side of the story.
The Rev. Samuel Hanson Cox, D.D., of Brooklyn, N. Y., was
especially disturbed at my presence and speech in the Tem-
perance Convention. I will give here, first, the reverend gen-
tleman’s version of the occasion in a letter from him as it
appeared in the New York Evangelist, the organ of his
denomination. After a description of the place (Covent Gar-
den theater) and the speakers, he says:
“They all advocated the same cause, showed a glorious unity of thought
and feeling, and the effect was constantly raised—the moral scene was superb
and glorious—when Frederick Douglass, the colored abolition agitator and
ultraist, came to the platform, and so spake, d la mode, as to ruin the in-
fluence almost of all that preceded! He lugged in anti-slavery, or abolition,
no doubt prompted to it by some of the politic ones, who can use him to
do what they would not themselves adventure to do in person. He is sup-
posed to have been well paid for the abomination.
“What a perversion, an abuse, an iniquity against the law of reciprocal
righteousness, to call thousands together, and get them, some certain ones,
to seem conspicuous and devoted for one sole and grand object, and then
all at once, with obliquity, open an avalanche on them for some imputed
evil or monstrosity, for which, whatever be the wound or injury inflicted,
they were both too fatigued and hurried with surprise, and too straightened
for time, to be properly prepared. I say it is a streak of meanness! It is
abominable! On this occasion Mr. Douglass allowed himself to denounce
America and all its temperance societies, together as a grinding community
of the enemies of his people; said evil, with no alloy of good, concerning
the whole of us; was perfectly indiscriminate in his severities; talked of the
American delegates, and to them, as if he had been our school-master, and
we his docile and devoted pupils; and launched his revengeful missiles at
our country without one palliative, and as if not a Christian or a true anti-
252 HIS STRICTURES ON DOUGLASS.
slavery man lived in the whole of the United States. The fact is, the man
has been petted, and flattered, and used, and paid by certain abolitionists,
not unknown to us, of the ne plus ultra stamp, till he forgets himself; and,
though he may gratify his own impulses, and those of old Adam in others,
yet sure I am that all this is just the way to ruin his own influence, to defeat
his own object, and to do mischief—not good—to the very cause he professes
to love. With the single exception of one cold-hearted particide, whose
character I abhor, and whom I will not name, and who has, I fear, no feel-
ing of true patriotism or piety within him, all the delegates from our coun-
try were together wounded and indignant. No wonder at it. I write freely.
It was not done in a corner. It was inspired, I believe, from beneath, and
not from above. It was adapted to re-kindle on both sides of the Atlantic
the flames of national exasperation and war. And this is the game which
Mr. Frederick I)ouglass and his silly patrons are playing in England and in
Scotland, and wherever they can find ‘some mischief still for idle hands to
do.’ I came here his sympathizing friend; I am such no more, as I know
him. My own opinion is increasingly that this spirit must be exorcised out
of England and America before any substantial good can be effected for the
cause of the slave. It is adapted only to make bad worse, and to inflame
the passions of indignant millions to an incurable resentment. None but an
ignoramus or a madman could think that this way was that of the inspired
apostles of the Son of God. It may gratify the feelings of a self-deceived
and malignant few, but it will do no good in any direction–least of all to
the poor slave! It is short-sighted, impulsive, partisan, reckless, and tend
ing only to sanguinary ends. None of this with men of sense and principle.
“We all wanted to reply, but it was too late; the whole theater seemed
taken with the spirit of the Ephesian uproar; they were furious and boister-
ous in the extreme, and Mr. Kirk could hardly obtain a moment, though
many were desirous in his behalf to say a few words, as he did, very calm
and properly, that the cause of temperance was not at all responsible for
slavery, and had no connection with it.”
Now, to show the reader what ground there was for this
tirade from the pen of this eminent divine, and how easily
Americans parted with their candor and self-possession when
slavery was mentioned adversely, I will give here the head and
front of my offence. Let it be borne in mind that this was a
world's convention of the friends of temperance. It was not
an American or a white man's convention, but one composed
of men of all nations and races; and as such, the convention
had the right to know all about the temperance cause in every
part of the world, and especially to know what hindrances
were interposed in any part of the world, to its progress. I








AUTHOR’s ADDRESS. 253
was perfectly in order in speaking precisely as I did. I was
neither an “intruder,” nor “out of order.” I had been in-
vited and advertised to speak by the same committee that
invited Doctors Beecher, Cox, Patton, Kirk, Marsh, and others,
and my speech was perfectly within the limits of good order,
as the following report will show :
“Mr. Chairman–Ladies and Gentlemen:-
“I am not a delegate to this convention. Those who would have been
most likely to elect me as a delegate, could not, because they are to-night
held in abject slavery in the United States. Sir, I regret that I cannot fully
unite with the American delegates in their patriotic eulogies of America, and
American temperance societies. I cannot do so for this good reason: there
are at this moment three millions of the American population, by slavery
and prejudice, placed entirely beyond the pale of American temperance
societies. The three million slaves are completely excluded by slavery, and
four hundred thousand free colored people are almost as completely
excluded by an inveterate prejudice against them, on account of their color.
[Cries of shame! shame!]
“I do not say these things to wound the feelings of the American dele-
gates. I simply mention them in their presence and before this audience,
that, seeing how you regard this hatred and neglect of the colored people, they
may be inclined on their return home to enlarge the field of their temper-
ance operations, and embrace within the scope of their influence, my long-
neglected race. [Great cheering, and some confusion on the platform.]
Sir, to give you some idea of the difficulties and obstacles in the way of the
temperance reformation of the colored population in the United States, allow
me to state a few facts.
“About the year 1840, a few intelligent, sober, and benevolent colored
gentlemen in Philadelphia, being acquainted with the appalling ravages of
intemperance among a numerous class of colored people in that city, and,
finding themselves neglected and excluded from white societies, organized
societies among themselves, appointed committees, sent out agents, built
temperance halls, and were earnestly and successfully rescuing many from
the fangs of intemperance.
“The cause went nobly on till August 1, 1842, the day when England
gave liberty to eight hundred thousand souls in the West Indies. The col-
ored temperance societies selected this day to march in procession through
the city, in the hope that such a demonstration would have the effect of
bringing others into their ranks. They formed their procession, unfurled
their teetotal banners, and proceeded to the accomplishment of their pur
pose. It was a delightful sight. But, sir, they had not proceeded down
two streets before they were brutally assailed by a ruthless mob; their ban-
ner was torn down, and trampled in the dust, their ranks broken up, their
254 FREE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND.
persons beaten and pelted with stones and brickbats. One of their churches
was burned to the ground, and their best temperance hall utterly demol-
ished.” [“Shame! shame! shame!” from the audience—great confusion,
and cries of “Sit down” from the American delegates on the platform.]
In the midst of this commotion, the chairman tapped me on
the shoulder, and whispering, informed me that the fifteen
minutes allotted to each speaker had expired; whereupon the
vast audience simultaneously shouted: “Don’t interrupt!”
“don’t dictate l’ “go on “go on 1" “ Douglass ſº “Doug-
lass' " This continued several minutes, when I proceeded as
follows: “Kind friends, I beg to assure you that the chairman
has not in the slightest degree sought to alter any sentiment
which I am anxious to express on this occasion. He was
simply reminding me that the time allotted for me to speak
had expired. I do not wish to occupy one moment more than
is allotted to other speakers. Thanking you for your kind
indulgence, I will take my seat.” Proceeding to do so again,
there were loud cries of “Go on 1’’ “go on l’’ with which I
complied for a few moments, but without saying anything
more that particularly related to the colored people of America.
I did not allow the letter of Dr. Cox to go unanswered through
the American journals, but promptly exposed its unfairness.
That letter is too long for insertion here. A part of it was
published in the Evangelist, and in many other papers, both in
this country and in England. Our eminent divine made no
rejoinder, and his silence was regarded at the time as an
admission of defeat. - -
Another interesting circumstance connected with my visit
to England, was the position of the Free church of Scotland
with the great Doctors Chalmers, Cunningham, and Candlish
at its head. That church had settled for itself the question
which was frequently asked by the opponents of abolition at
home—“What have we to do with slavery 2” by accepting con-
tributions from slaveholders; i.e., receiving the price of blood
into its treasury, with which to build churches and pay minis-
ters for preaching the gospel; and worse than this, when



IN EDINBURGH. 255
honest John Murray of Bowlein Bay, with William Smeal,
Andrew Paton, Frederick Card, and other sterling anti-slav-
ery men in Glasgow, denounced the transaction as disgraceful,
and shocking to the religious sentiment of Scotland, this
church, through its leading divines, instead of repenting and
seeking to amend the mistake into which it had fallen, caused
that mistake to become a flagrant sin by undertaking to defend,
in the name of God and the Bible, the principle not only of
taking the money of slave-dealers to build churches and thus
extend the gospel, but of holding fellowship with the traffick-
ers in human flesh. This, the reader will see, brought up the
whole question of slavery, and opened the way to its full dis-
cussion. I have never seen a people more deeply moved than
were the people of Scotland on this very question. Public
meeting succeeded public meeting, speech after speech, pamph-
let after pamphlet, editorial after editorial, sermon after ser-
mon, lashed the conscientious Scotch people into a perfect
furore. “SEND BACK THE MONEY!” was indignantly shouted
from Greenock to Edinbugh, and from Edinburgh to Aber-
deen. George Thompson of London, Henry C. Wright, J. N.
Buffum and myself from America, were of course on the anti-
slavery side, and Chalmers, Cunningham, and Candlish on the
other. Dr. Cunningham was the most powerful debater on
the slavery side of the question, Mr. Thompson the ablest on
the anti-slavery side. A scene occurred between these two mell,
a parallel to which I think I have never witnessed before or
since. It was caused by a single exclamation on the part of
Mr. Thompson, and was on this wise: -
The general assembly of the Free Church was in progress at
Cannon Mills. Edinburgh. The building would hold twenty-
five hundred persons, and on this occasion was densely
packed, notice having been given that Doctors Cunningham
and Candlish would speak that day in defense of the rela-
tions of the Free Church of Scotland to slavery in America.
Messrs. Thompson, Buffum, myself and a few other anti-
slavery friends attended, but sat at such distance and in such
12
256 CUNNINGHAM AND CANDLISH.
position as not to be observed from the platform. The excite-
ment was intense, having been greatly increased by a series of
meetings held by myself and friends, in the most splendid hall
in that most beautiful city, just previous to this meeting of
the general assembly. “SEND BACK THE MONEY!” in large
capitals stared from every street corner; “SEND BACK THE
MONEY!” adorned the broad flags of the pavement; “SEND
BACK THE MONEY!” was the chorus of the popular street-
song; “SEND BACK THE MONEY!” was the heading of leading
editorials in the daily newspapers. This day, at Cannon
Mills, the great doctors of the church were to give an answer
to this loud and stern demand. Men of all parties and sects
were most eager to hear. Something great was expected.
The occasion was great, the men were great, and great
speeches were expected from them.
In addition to the outward pressure there was wavering
within. The conscience of the church itself was not at ease,
A dissatisfaction with the position of the church touching
slavery was sensibly manifest among the members, and some-
thing must be done to counteract this untoward influence.
The great Dr. Chalmers was in feeble health at the time, so his
most potent eloquence could not now be summoned to Cannon
Mills, as formerly. He whose voice had been so powerful as
to rend asunder and dash down the granite walls of the Estab-
lished Church of Scotland, and to lead a host in solemn pro-
cession from it as from a doomed city, was now old and enfee-
bled. Besides he had said his word on this very question,
and it had not silenced the clamor without nor stilled the
anxious heavings within. The occasion was momentous, and
felt to be so. The church was in a perilous condition. A
change of some sort must take place, or she must go to
pieces. To stand where she did was impossible. The whole
weight of the matter fell on Cunningham and Candlish. No
shoulders in the church were broader than theirs; and I must
say, badly as I detested the principles laid down and defended
by them, I was compelled to acknowledge the vast mental
endowments of the men.


























GEORGE THOMPSON. 257
Cunningham rose, and his rising was the signal for tumul-
tuous applause. It may be said that this was scarcely in
keeping with the solemnity of the occasion, but to me it
served to increase its grandeur and gravity. The applause,
though tumultuous, was not joyous. It seemed to me, as it
thundered up from the vast audience, like the fall of an
immense shaft, flung from shoulders already galled by its
crushing weight. It was like saying “Doctor, we have borne
this burden long enough, and willingly fling it upon you.
Since it was you who brought it upon us, take it now and do
what you will with it, for we are too weary to bear it.”
The Doctor proceeded with his speech—abounding in logic,
learning, and eloquence, and apparently bearing down all oppo-
sition; but at the moment—the fatal moment—when he was
just bringing all his arguments to a point, and that point
being that “neither Jesus Christ nor his holy apostles
regarded slaveholding as a sin,” George Thompson, in a clear,
sonorous, but rebuking voice, broke the deep stillness of the
audience, exclaiming “HEAR HEAR HEAR l’’ The effect of
this simple and common exclamation is almost incredible. It
was as if a granite wall had been suddenly flung up against
the advancing current of a mighty river. For a moment
speaker and audience were brought to a dead silence. Both
the Doctor and his hearers seemed appalled by the auda-
city, as well as the fitness of the rebuke. At length a
shout went up to the cry of “Put him out !” Happily no
one attempted to execute this cowardly order, and the dis-
course went on ; but not as before. The exclamation of
Thompson must have re-echoed a thousand times in his
memory, for the Doctor, during the remainder of his speech,
was utterly unable to recover from the blow. The deed was
done, however; the pillars of the church—the proud Free
Church of Scotland—were committed, and the humility of
repentance was absent. The Free Church held on to the
blood-stained money, and continued to justify itself in its
position.
258 LORD MORPETH AND DR. KIRK,
One good result followed the conduct of the Free Church:
it furnished an occasion for making the people thoroughly
acquainted with the character of slavery and for arraying
against it the moral and religious sentiment of that country;
therefore, while we did not procure the sending back of the
money, we were amply justified by the good which really did
result from our labors.
I must add one word in regard to the Evangelical Alliance.
This was an attempt to form a union of all Evangelical Chris-
tians throughout the world, and which held its first session in
London, in the year 1846, at the time of the World's Temper-
ance Convention there. Some sixty or seventy ministers from
America attended this convention, the object of some of
them being to weave a world-wide garment with which to
clothe evangelical slaveholders; and in this they partially suc-
ceeded. But the question of slavery was too large a question
to be finally disposed of by the Evangelical Alliance, and
from its judgment we appealed to the judgment of the people
of Great Britain, with the happiest effect—this effort of our
countrymen to shield the character of slaveholders serving to
open a way to the British ear for anti-slavery discussion.
I may mention here an incident somewhat amusing and
instructive, as it serves to illustrate how easily Americans
could set aside their notoriously inveterate prejudice against
color, when it stood in the way of their wishes, or when in
an atmosphere which made that prejudice unpopular and
unchristian.
At the entrance to the House of Commons I had one day
been conversing for a few moments with Lord Morpeth, and
just as I was parting from him I felt an emphatic push
against my arm, and, looking around, I saw at my elbow Rev.
Dr. Kirk of Boston. “Introduce me to Lord Morpeth,” he
said. “Certainly,” said I, and introduced him ; not without
remembering, however, that the amiable Doctor would
scarcely have asked such a favor of a colored man at home.
The object of my labors in Great Britain was the concen-





















HIS MANUMISSION FUND. 259
tration of the moral and religious sentiment of its people
against American slavery. To this end, I visited and lectured
in nearly all the large towns and cities in the United King-
dom, and enjoyed many favorable opportunities for observa-
tion and information. I should like to write a book on those
countries, if for nothing else, to make grateful mention of the
many dear friends whose benevolent actions towards me are
ineffaceably stamped upon my memory, and warmly treasured
in my heart. To these friends, I owe my freedom in the
United States.
Mrs. Ellen Richardson, an excellent member of the society
of friends, assisted by her sister-in-law Mrs. Henry Richard-
son-alady devoted to every good word and work—the friend
of the Indian and the African, conceived the plan of raising
a fund to effect my ransom from slavery. They corresponded
with Hon. Walter Forward of Pennsylvania, and through
him, ascertained that Captain Auld would take one hundred
and fifty pounds sterling for me; and this sum they promptly
raised, and paid for my liberation; placing the papers of my
manumission into my hands, before they would tolerate the
idea of my return to this my native land. To this commer-
cial transaction, to this blood-money I owe my immunity
from the operation of the fugitive slave law of 1793, and also
from that of 1850. The whole affair speaks for itself and
needs no comment now that slavery has ceased to exist in
this country, and is not likely ever again to be revived.
Some of my uncompromising anti-slavery friends in this
country failed to see the wisdom of this commercial transac-
tion, and were not pleased that I consented to it, even by my
silence. They thought it a violation of anti-slavery principles,
conceding the right of property in man, and a wasteful ex-
penditure of money. For myself, viewing it simply in the
light of a ransom, or as money extorted by a robber, and my
liberty of more value than one hundred and fifty pounds ster-
ling, I could not see either a violation of the laws of morality
or of economy. It is true I was not in the possession of my
260 MASTER HUGH GETS HIS PRICE.
claimants, and could have remained in England, for my
friends would have generously assisted me in establishing my:
self there. To this I could not consent. I felt it my duty to
labor and suffer with my oppressed people in my native land.
Considering all the circumstances, the fugitive bill included, I
think now as then, that the very best thing was done in letting
Master Hugh have the money, and thus leave me free to re-
turn to my appropriate field of labor. Had I been a private
person, with no relations or duties other than those of a per-
sonal and family nature, I should not have consented to the
payment of so large a sum, for the privilege of living securely
under our glorious republican (?) form of government. I
could have lived elsewhere, or perhaps might have been un-
observed even here, but I had become somewhat notorious,
and withal quite as unpopular in some directions as notorious,
and I was therefore much exposed to arrest and capture.”
* The following is a copy of these curious papers, both of my transfer
from Thomas to Hugh Auld, and from Hugh to myself:
“Know all men, by these presents: That I, Thomas Auld of Talbot
county and state of Maryland, for and in consideration of the sum of one
hundred dollars, current money, to me paid by Hugh Auld, of the city of
Baltimore, in the said state, at and before the sealing and delivery of these
presents, the receipt whereof, I the said Thomas Auld, do hereby acknowl.
edge, have granted, bargained, and sold, and by these presents do grant.
bargain, and sell unto the said Hugh Auld, his executors, administrators.
and assigns, OSE NEGRO MAN, by the name of FREDERICK BAILEy—or
Doug LAss as he calls himself—he is now about twenty-eight years of age—
to have and to hold the said negro man for life. And I the said Thomas
Auld, for myself, my heirs, executors, and administrators, all and singular,
the said FREDERICK BAILY alias Doug LAss unto the said Hugh Auld, his
executors and administrators, and against all and every other person or
persons whatsoever, shall and will warrant and forever defend by these pres:
ents. In witness whereof, I set my hand and seal, this thirteenth day of No.
vember, eighteen hundred and forty-six (1846.) Thomas Auld.
“Signed, sealed, and delivered, in presence of Wrightson Jones, John C.
Lear.”
The authenticity of this bill of sale is attested by N. Harrington, a justice
of the peace of the state of Maryland, and for the county of Talbot, dated
same day as above.
“To all whom it may concern: Beit known that I, Hugh Auld, of the
city of Baltimore, in Baltimore county in the state of Maryland, for divers


HE ESTABLISHES A NEWSPAPER. 261
Having remained abroad nearly two years, and being about
to return to America, not as I left it—a slave, but a freeman,
prominent friends of the cause of emancipation intimated
their intention to make me a testimonial both on grounds of
personal regard to me, and also to the cause to which they
were so ardently devoted. How such a project would have
succeeded I do not know, but many reasons led me to prefer
that my friends should simply give me the means of obtaining
a printing press and materials, to enable me to start a paper,
advocating the interests of my enslaved and oppressed people.
I told them that perhaps the greatest hindrance to the adop-
tion of abolition principles by the people of the United States,
was the low estimate everywhere in that country placed upon
the negro as a man; that because of his assumed natural in-
feriority, people reconciled themselves to his enslavement and
oppression, as being inevitable if not desirable. The grand
thing to be done, therefore, was to change this estimation, by
disproving his inferiority and demonstrating his capacity for
a more exalted civilization than slavery and prejudice had
assigned him. In my judgment a tolerably well conducted
press in the hands of persons of the despised race, would by
calling out and making them acquainted with their own latent
powers, by enkindling their hope of a future, and developing
their moral force, prove a most powerful means of removing
prejudice and awakening an interest in them. At that time
good causes and considerations, me thereunto moving, have released from
slavery, liberated, manumitted, and set free, and by these presents do hereby
release from slavery, liberate, manumit, and set free, My NEGRO MAN, named
FREDERICR BAILY, otherwise called Doug LAss, being of the age of twenty-
eight years, or thereabouts, and able to work and gain a sufficient livelihood
and maintenance; and him the said negro man, named FREDERICK Doug-
LAss, I do declare to be henceforth free, manumitted, and discharged from
all manner of servitude to me, my executors and administrators forever.
“In witness whereof, I the said Hugh Auld, have hereunto set my hand
and seal the fifth of December, in the year one thousand eight hundred and
forty-six. HUGH AULD.
“Sealed and delivered in presence of T. Hanson Belt, James N. S. T.
Wright.” .
262 OUTRAGED ON BOARD THE CAMBRIA.
there was not a single newspaper regularly published by the
colored people in the country, though many attempts had been
made to establish such, and had from one cause or another
failed. These views I laid before my friends. The result
was, that nearly two thousand five hundred dollars were
speedily raised towards my establishing such a paper as I had
indicated. For this prompt and generous assistance, rendered
upon my bare suggestion, without any personal effort on my
part, I shall never cease to feel deeply grateful, and the
thought of fulfilling the expectations of the dear friends who
had given me this evidence of their confidence, was an abid.
ing inspiration for persevering exertion.
Proposing to leave England, and turning my face toward
America in the spring of 1847, I was painfully reminded of
the kind of life which awaited me on my arrival. For the first
time in the many months spent abroad, I was met with pro-
scription on account of my color. While in London I had
purchased a ticket, and secured a berth, for returning home in
the Cambria—the steamer in which I had come from thence
—and paid therefor the round sum of forty pounds, nineteen
shillings sterling. This was first cabin fare; but on going on
board I found that the Liverpool agent had ordered my berth
to be given to another, and forbidden my entering the saloon.
It was rather hard after having enjoyed for so long a time
equal social privileges, after dining with persons of great
literary, social, political, and religious eminence, and never,
during the whole time, having met with a single word, look,
or gesture, which gave me the slightest reason to think my
color was an offense to anybody—now to be cooped up in the
stern of the Cambria, and denied the right to enter the saloon,
lest my presence should disturb some democratic fellow-pass-
enger. The reader can easily imagine what must have been
my feelings under such an indignity.
This contemptible conduct met with stern rebuke from the
British press. The London Times, and other leading journals
throughout the United Kingdom, held up the outrage to





















MR. CUNARD APOLOGIZES. 263
unmitigated condemnation. So good an opportunity for call-
ing out British sentiment on the subject had not before
occurred, and it was fully embraced. The result was that Mr.
Cunard came out in a letter expressive of his regret, and prom-
ising that the like indignity should never occur again on his
steamers, which promise I believe has been faithfully kept.
12*
-
CHAPTER VII.
TRIUMPHS AND TRIALS.
New Experiences—Painful Disagreement of Opinion with old Friends—
Final Decision to Publish my Paper in Rochester—Its Fortunes and its
Friends—Change in my own Views Regarding the Constitution of the
United States–Fidelity to Conviction–Loss of Old Friends–Support of
New Ones–Loss of House, etc., by Fire–Triumphs and Trials—Under-
ground Railroad–Incidents.
REPARED as I was to meet with many trials and per-
plexities on reaching home, one of which I little dreamed
was awaiting me. My plans for future usefulness, as indicated
in the last chapter, were all settled, and in imagination I
already saw myself wielding my pen as well as my voice in
the great work of renovating the public mind, and building up
a public sentiment, which should send slavery to the grave,
and restore to “liberty and the pursuit of happiness” the
people with whom I had suffered.
My friends in Boston had been informed of what I was
intending, and I expected to find them favorably disposed
toward my cherished enterprise. In this I was mistaken.
They had many reasons against it. First, no such paper was
needed; secondly, it would interfere with my usefulness as a
lecturer; thirdly, I was better fitted to speak than to write;
fourthly, the paper could not succeed. This opposition from
a quarter so highly esteemed, and to which I had been accus-
tomed to look for advice and direction, caused me not only to
hesitate, but inclined me to abandon the undertaking. All
previous attempts to establish such a journal having failed, I
feared lest I should but add another to the list, and thus con-
tribute another proof of the mental deficiencies of my race.
Very much that was said to me in respect to my imperfect
literary attainments, I felt to be most painfully true. The
unsuccessful projectors of all former attempts had been my

(264)

ESTABLISHEs “THE NORTH STAR.” 265
superiors in point of education, and if they had failed how
could I hope for success Yet I did hope for success, and
persisted in the undertaking, encouraged by my English
friends to go forward.
I can easily pardon those who saw in my persistence an
unwarrantable ambition and presumption. I was but nine
years from slavery. In many phases of mental experience I
was but nine years old. That one under such circumstances
should aspire to establish a printing press, surrounded by an
educated people, might well be considered unpractical if not
ambitious. My American friends looked at me with astonish-
ment. “A wood-sawyer’ offering himself to the public as an
editor A slave, brought up in the depths of ignorance,
assuming to instruct the highly civilized people of the north
in the principles of liberty, justice, and humanity The thing
looked absurd. Nevertheless I persevered. I felt that the
want of education, great as it was, could be overcome by
study, and that wisdom would come by experience; and
further (which was perhaps the most controlling consideration)
I thought that an intelligent public, knowing my early history,
would easily pardon the many deficiencies which I well knew
that my paper must exhibit. The most distressing part of it
all was the offense which I saw I must give my friends of the
old Anti-Slavery organization, by what seemed to them a
reckless disregard of their opinion and advice. I am not sure
that I was not under the influence of something like a slavish
adoration of these good people, and I labored hard to convince
them that my way of thinking about the matter was the right
one, but without success.
From motives of peace, instead of issuing my paper in
Boston, among New England friends, I went to Rochester, N.
Y., among strangers, where the local circulation of my paper
—“THE NORTH STAR”—would not interfere with that of the
Liberator or the Anti-Slavery Standard, for I was then a
faithful disciple of Wm. Lloyd Garrison, and fully committed
to his doctrine touching the pro-slavery character of the Con-

266 THE CONSTITUTION ANTI-SLAVERY.
stitution of the United States, also the non-voting principle of
which he was the known and distinguished advocate. With
him, I held it to be the first duty of the non-slaveholding States
to dissolve the union with the slaveholding States, and hence
my cry, like his, was “No union with slaveholders.” With
these views I came into western New York, and during the
first four years of my labors here I advocated them with pen
and tongue, to the best of my ability. After a time, a care-
ful reconsideration of the subject convinced me that there was
no necessity for dissolving the “union between the northern
and southern States; ” that to seek this dissolution was no
part of my duty as an abolitionist; that to abstain from voting
was to refuse to exercise a legitimate and powerful means for
abolishing slavery; and that the Constitution of the United
States not only contained no guarantees in favor of slavery,
but on the contrary, was in its letter and spirit an anti-slavery
instrument, demanding the abolition of slavery as a condition
of its own existence, as the supreme law of the land.
This radical change in my opinions produced a correspond-
ing change in my action. To those with whom I had been in
agreement and in sympathy, I came to be in opposition. What
they held to be a great and important truth I now looked upon
as a dangerous error. A very natural, but to me a very pain-
ful thing, now happened. Those who could not see any hon-
est reasons for changing their views, as I had done, could not
easily see any such reasons for my change, and the common
punishment of apostates was mine.
My first opinions were naturally derived and honestly enter-
tained. Brought directly, when I escaped from slavery, into
contact with abolitionists who regarded the Constitution as a
slaveholding instrument, and finding their views supported by
the united and entire history of every department of the gov-
ernment, it is not strange that I assumed the Constitution to
be just what these friends made it seem to be. I was bound
not only by their superior knowledge to take their opinions in
respect to this subject, as the true ones, but also because I

THE AUTHOR's ARGUMENT. 267
had no means of showing their unsoundness. But for the
responsibility of conducting a public journal, and the necessity
imposed upon me of meeting opposite views from abolitionists
outside of New England, I should in all probability have
remained firm in my disunion views. My new circumstances
compelled me to re-think the whole subject, and study with
some care not only the just and proper rules of legal interpre-
tation, but the origin, design, nature, rights, powers, and duties
of civil governments, and also the relations which human
beings sustain to it. By such a course of thought and reading
I was conducted to the conclusion that the Constitution of the
United States—inaugurated “to form a more perfect union,
establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the
common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the
blessings of liberty’—could not well have been designed at
the same time to maintain and perpetuate a system of rapine
and murder like slavery, especially as not one word can be
found in the Constitution to authorize such a belief. Then,
again, if the declared purposes of an instrument are to govern
the meaning of all its parts and details, as they clearly should,
the Constitution of our country is our warrant for the abolition
of slavery in every State of the Union. It would require much
time and space to set forth the arguments which demonstrated
to my mind the unconstitutionality of slavery ; but being con-
vinced of the fact my duty was plain upon this point in the
farther conduct of my paper. The North Star was a large
sheet, published weekly, at a cost of $80 per week, and an
average circulation of 3,000 subscribers. There were many
times, when in my experience as editor and publisher, I was
very hard pressed for money, but by one means or another I
succeeded so well as to keep my pecuniary engagements, and
to keep my anti-slavery banner steadily flying during all the
conflict from the autumn of 1847 till the union of the States
was assured and emancipation was a fact accomplished. I had
friends abroad as well as at home who helped me liberally. I
can never be too grateful to Rev. Russell Lunt Carpenter and

268 MRS. JULIA CROFTS.
to Mrs. Carpenter, for the moral and imaterial aid they tendered
me through all the vicissitudes of my paper enterprise. But
to no one person was I more indebted for substantial assist-
ance than to Mrs. Julia Griffiths Crofts. She came to my
relief when my paper had nearly absorbed all my means, and
was heavily in debt, and when I had mortgaged my house to
raise money to meet current expenses; and by her energetic
and effective management, in a single year enabled me to
extend the circulation of my paper from 2,000 to 4,000 copies,
pay off the debts and lift the mortgage from my house. Her
industry was equal to her devotion. She seemed to rise with
every emergency, and her resources appeared inexhaustible.
I shall never cease to remember with sincere gratitude the
assistance rendered me by this noble lady, and I mention her
here in the desire in some humble measure to “give honor to
whom honor is due.” During the first three or four years my
paper was published under the name of the North Star. It
was subsequently changed to Frederick Douglass Paper in
order to distinguish it from the many papers with “Stars” in
their titles. There were “North Stars,” “Morning Stars,”
“Evening Stars,” and I know not how many other stars in
the newspaper firmament, and some confusion arose naturally
enough in distinguishing between them; for this reason, and
also because some of these stars were older than my star I felt
that mine, not theirs, ought to be the one to “go out.”
Among my friends in this country, who helped me in my
earlier efforts to maintain my paper, I may proudly count such
men as the late Hon. Gerrit Smith, and Chief Justice Chase,
Hon. Horace Mann, Hon. Joshua R. Giddings, Hon. Charles
Sumner, Hon. John G. Palfry, Hon. Wm. H. Seward, Rev.
Samuel J. May, and many others, who though of lesser note
were equally devoted to my cause. Among these latter ones
were Isaac and Amy Post, William and Mary Hallowell, Asa
and Hulda Anthony, and indeed all the committee of the
Western New York Anti-Slavery Society. They held festivals
and fairs to raise money, and assisted me in every other possi-
IMPROVED THE ROCHESTER ATMOSPHERE. 269
ble way to keep my paper in circulation, while I was a non-
voting abolitionist, but withdrew from me when I became a
voting abolitionist. For a time the withdrawal of their
coöperation embarrassed me very much, but soon another class
of friends were raised up for me, chief amongst whom were
the Porter family of Rochester. The late Samuel D. Porter
and his wife Susan F. Porter, and his sisters, Maria and
Elmira Porter, deserve grateful mention as among my stead-
fast friends, who did much in the way of supplying pecuniary
aid.
Of course there were moral forces operating against me in
Rochester, as well as material ones. There were those who
regarded the publication of a “Negro paper” in that beautiful
city as a blemish and a misfortune. The New York Herald,
true to the spirit of the times, counselled the people of the
place to throw my printing press into Lake Ontario and to
banish me to Canada, and while they were not quite prepared
for this violence, it was plain that many of them did not well
relish my presence amongst them. This feeling, however,
wore away gradually, as the people knew more of me and my
works. I lectured every Sunday evening during an entire
winter in the beautiful Corinthian Hall, then owned by Wm.
R. Reynolds, Esq., who though he was not an abolitionist, was
a lover of fair-play and was willing to allow me to be heard.
If in these lectures I did not make abolitionists I did succeed
in making tolerant the moral atmosphere in Rochester; so
much so, indeed, that I came to feel as much at home there as
I had ever done in the most friendly parts of New England.
I had been at work there with my paper but a few years before
colored travelers told me that they felt the influence of my
labors when they came within fifty miles. I did not rely
alone upon what I could do by the paper, but would write all
day, then take a train to Victor, Farmington, Canan-
daigua, Geneva, Waterloo, Batavia, or Buffalo, or elsewhere,
and speak in the evening, returning home afterwards or early
in the morning, to be again at my desk writing or mailing


270 IRREPARABLE LOSS BY FIRE.
papers. There were times when I almost thought my Boston
friends were right in dissauding me from my newspaper pro-
ject. But looking back to those nights and days of toil and
thought, compelled often to do work for which I had no
educational preparation, I have come to think that, under the
circumstances it was the best school possible for me. It
obliged me to think and read, it taught me to express my
thoughts clearly, and was perhaps better than any other course
I could have adopted. Besides it made it necessary for me to
lean upon myself, and not upon the heads of our Anti-Slavery
church. To be a principal, and not an agent. I had an
audience to speak to every week, and must say something
worth their hearing, or cease to speak altogether. There is
nothing like the lash and sting of necessity to make a man
work, and my paper furnished this motive power. More than
one gentleman from the south, when stopping at Niagara,
came to see me, that they might know for themselves if I
could indeed write, having as they said believed it impossible
that an uneducated fugitive slave could write the articles
attributed to me. I found it hard to get credit in some quar-
ters either for what I wrote or what I said. While there was
nothing very profound or learned in either, the low estimate
of Negro possibilities induced the belief that both my editorials
and my speeches were written by white persons. I doubt if
this scepticism does not still linger in the minds of some of
my democratic fellow-citizens.
The 2d of June, 1872, brought me a very grievous loss.
My house in Rochester was burnt to the ground, and among
other things of value, twelve volumes of my paper, covering
the period from 1848 to 1860, were devoured by the flames.
I have never been able to replace them, and the loss is im-
measurable. Only a few weeks before, I had been invited to
send these bound volumes to the library of Harvard Univers-
ity where they would have been preserved in a fire-proof
building, and the result of my procrastination attests the
wisdom of more than one proverb. Outside the years em-

CONDUCTOR OF THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD. 271
braced in the late tremendous war, there has been no period,
more pregnant with great events, or better suited to call out
the best mental and moral energies of men, than that covered
by these lost volumes. If I have at any time said or written
that which is worth remembering or repeating, I must have
said such things between the years 1848 and 1860, and my
paper was a chronicle of most of what I said during that
time. Within that space we had the great Free Soil Con-
vention at Buffalo, the Nomination of Martin Van Buren, the
Fugitive Slave Law, the 7th March Speech by Daniel Webster,
the Dred Scott decision, the repeal of the Missouri Compro-
mise, the Kansas Nebraska bill, the Border war in Kansas,
the John Brown raid upon Harper's Ferry, and a part of the
War against the Rebellion, with much else, well calculated to
fire the souls of men having one spark of Liberty and Patri-
otism within them. I have only fragments now, of all the
work accomplished during these twelve years, and must cover
this chasm, as best I can from memory and the incidental
items, which I am able to glean from various sources. Two
volumes of the North Star have been kindly supplied me, by
my friend, Marshall Pierce of Saco, Me. He had these care-
fully preserved and bound in one cover and sent to me in
Washington. He was one of the most systematically careful
men of all my anti-slavery friends, for I doubt if another
entire volume of the paper exists.
One important branch of my anti-slavery work in Rochester,
in addition to that of speaking and writing against slavery,
must not be forgotten or omitted. My position gave me the
chance of hitting that old enemy some telling blows, in
another direction than these. I was on the southern border
of Lake Ontario, and the Queen's Dominions were right over
the way—and my prominence as an abolitionist, and as the
editor of an anti-slavery paper, naturally made me the station
master and conductor of the underground railroad passing
through this goodly city. Secrecy and concealment were
nºcessary conditions to the successful operation of this rail.

272, A TWO-FORTY GART.
!
road, and hence its prefix “underground.” My agency was
all the more exciting and interesting, because not altogether
free from danger. I could take no step in it without exposing
myself to fine and imprisonment, for these were the penalties
imposed by the fugitive slave law, for feeding, harboring, or
otherwise assisting a slave to escape from his master; but in
face of this fact, I can say, I never did more congenial, attrac-
tive, fascinating, and satisfactory work. True as a means of
destroying slavery, it was like an attempt to bail out the
ocean with a teaspoon, but the thought that there was one less
slave, and one more freeman,—having myself been a slave,
and a fugitive slave—brought to my heart unspeakable joy.
On one occasion I had eleven fugitives at the same time under
my roof, and it was necessary for them to remain with me,
until I could collect sufficient money to get them on to Can-
ada. It was the largest number I ever had at any one time,
and I had some difficulty in providing so many with food
and shelter, but as may well be imagined, they were not very
fastidious in either direction, and were well content with very
plain food, and a strip of carpet on the floor for a bed, or a
place on the straw in the barn loft.
The underground railroad had many branches; but that one
with which I was connected had its main stations in Baltimore,
Wilmington, Philadelphia, New York, Albany, Syracuse,
Rochester, and St. Catharines (Canada). It is not necessary
to tell who were the principal agents in Baltimore; Thomas
Garrett was the agent in Wilmington; Melloe McKim, Wil-
liam Still, Robert Purvis, Edward M. Davis, and others did
the work in Philadelphia; David Ruggles, Isaac T. Hopper,
Napolian, and others, in New York city; the Misses Mott and
Stephen Myers, were forwarders from Albany; Revs. Samuel
J. May and J. W. Loguen, were the agents in Syracuse; and
J. P. Morris and myself received and dispatched passengers
from Rochester to Canada, where they were received by Rev.
Hiram Wilson. When a party arrived in Rochester, it was
the business of Mr. Morris and myself to raise funds with

PPEAL TO BRITISH FRIENDS. 273
which to pay their passages to St. Catharines, and it is due to
truth to state, that we seldom called in vain upon whig or
democrat for help. Men were better than their theology, and
truer to humanity, than to their politics, or their offices.
On one occasion while a slave master was in the office of a
United States commissioner, procuring the papers necessary
for the arrest and rendition of three young men who had
escaped from Maryland, (one of whom was under my roof at
the time, another at Farmington, and the other at work on
the farm of Asa Anthony just a little outside the city limits.)
the law partner of the commissioner, then a distinguished
democrat, sought me out, and told me what was going on in
his office, and urged me by all means to get these young men
out of the way of their pursuers and claimants. Of course
no time was to be lost. A swift horseman was dispatched to
Farmington, eighteen miles distant, another to Asa Anthony’s
farm about three miles, and another to my house on the south
side of the city, and before the papers could be served, all
three of the young men were on the free waves of Lake
Ontario, bound to Canada. In writing to their old master,
they had dated their letter at Rochester, though they had
taken the precaution to send it to Canada to be mailed, but
this blunder in the date had betrayed their whereabouts, so
that the hunters were at once on their tracks.
So numerous were the fugitives passing through Rochester
that I was obliged at last to appeal to my British friends for
the means of sending them on their way, and when Mr. and
Mrs. Carpenter and Mrs. Crofts took the matter in hand, I had
never any further trouble in that respect. When slavery was
abolished I wrote to Mrs. Carpenter, congratulating her that
she was relieved of the work of raising funds for such purposes,
and the characteristic reply of that lady was that she had been
very glad to do what she had done, and had no wish for relief.
My pathway was not entirely free from thorns in Rochester,
and the wounds and pains inflicted by them were perhaps
much less easily borne, because of my exemption from such
274 MISS TRACY'S SCHOOL IN ROCHESTER.
annoyances while in England. Men can in time become
accustomed to almost anything, even to being insulted and
ostracised, but such treatment comes hard at first, and when
to some extent unlooked for. The vulgar prejudice against
color, so common to Americans, met me in several disagreea-
ble forms. A seminary for young ladies and misses, under
the auspices of Miss Tracy, was near my house on Alexander
street, and desirous of having my daughter educated like the
daughters of other men, I applied to Miss Tracy for her admis-
sion to her school. All seemed fair, and the child was duly
sent to “Tracy Seminary,” and I went about my business
happy in the thought that she was in the way of a refined and
Christian education. Several weeks elapsed before I knew
how completely I was mistaken. The little girl came home
to me one day and told me she was lonely in that school; that
she was in fact kept in solitary confinement; that she was not
allowed in the room with the other girls, nor to go into the
yard when they went out; that she was kept in a room by
herself and not permitted to be seen or heard by the others.
No man with the feeling of a parent could be less than moved
by such a revelation, and I confess that I was shocked, gricved,
and indignant. I went at once to Miss Tracy to ascertain if
what I had heard was true, and was coolly told it was, and the
miserable plea was offered that it would have injured her
school if she had done otherwise. I told her she should have
told me so at the beginning, but I did not believe that any girl
in the school would be opposed to the presence of my daughter,
and that I should be glad to have the question submitted to
them. She consented to this, and to the credit of the young
ladies, not one made objection. Not satisfied with this verdict
of the natural and uncorrupted sense of justice and humanity
of these young ladies, Miss Tracy insisted that the parents
must be consulted, and if one of them objected she should
not admit my child to the same apartment and privileges of
the other pupils. One parent only had the cruelty to object,
and he was Mr. Horatio G. Warner, a democratic editor, and


A FAVORABLE CHANGE. 275
upon his adverse conclusion, my daughter was excluded from
“Tracy Seminary.” Of course Miss Tracy was a devout
Christian lady after the fashion of the time and locality, in
good and regular standing in the church.
My troubles attending the education of my children were
not to end here. They were not allowed in the public school
in the district in which I lived, owned property, and paid taxes,
but were compelled, if they went to a public school, to go over
to the other side of the city, to an inferior colored school. I
hardly need say that I was not prepared to submit tamely
to this proscription, any more than I had been to submit to
slavery, so I had them taught at home for a while, by Miss
Thayer. Meanwhile I went to the people with the question
and created considerable agitation. I sought and obtained a
hearing before the Board of Education, and after repeated
efforts with voice and pen, the doors of the public schools were
opened and colored children were permitted to attend them in
common with others.
There were barriers erected against colored people in most
other places of instruction and amusements in the city, and
until I went there they were imposed without any apparent
sense of injustice or wrong, and submitted to in silence; but
one by one they have gradually been removed and colored
people now enter freely all places of public resort without
hindrance or observation. This change has not been wholly
effected by me. From the first I was cheered on and supported
in my demands for equal rights by such respectable citizens as
Isaac Post, Wm. Hallowell, Samuel D. Porter, Wm. C. Bloss,
Benj. Fish, Asa Anthony, and many other good and true men
of Rochester.
Notwithstanding what I have said of the adverse feeling
exhibited by some of its citizens at my selection of Rochester
as the place to establish my paper, and the trouble in educa-
tional matters just referred to, that selection was in many
respects very fortunate. The city was, and still is, the center
of a virtuous, intelligent, enterprising, liberal, and growing
276 AT HOME IN ROCHESTER.
population. The surrounding country is remarkable for its
fertility; and the city itself possesses one of the finest water.
powers in the world. It is on the line of the New York Cen.
tral railroad—a line that with its connections, spans the whole
country. Its people were industrious and in comfortable cir-
cumstances; not so rich as to be indifferent to the claims of
humanity, and not so poor as to be unable to help any good
cause which commanded the approval of their judgment.
The ground had been measurably prepared for me by the
labors of others—notably by Hon. Myron Holley, whose monu-
ment of enduring marble now stands in the beautiful cemetery
at Mount Hope, upon an eminence beſitting his noble charac-
ter. I know of no place in the Union where I could have
located at the time with less resistance, or received a larger
measure of sympathy and coöperation, and I now look back to
my life and labors there with unalloyed satisfaction, and
having spent a quarter of a century among its people, I shall
always feel more at home there than any where else in this
country.



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CHAPTER VIII.
JOHN BROWN AND MRS. STOWE.
My First Meeting with Capt. John Brown–The Free Soil Movement–Col-
ored Convention–Uncle Tom's Cabin–Industrial School for Colored
People—Letter to Mrs. H. B. Stowe.
BOUT the time I began my enterprise in Rochester I
chanced to spend a night and a day under the roof of a
man whose character and conversation, and whose objects and
aims in life made a very deep impression upon my mind and
heart. His name had been mentioned to me by several promi-
ment colored men, among whom were the Rev. Henry High-
land Garnet and J. W. Loguen. In speaking of him their
voices would drop to a whisper, and what they said of him
made me very eager to see and know him. Fortunately I was
invited to see him in his own house. At the time to which I
now refer this man was a respectable merchant in a populous
and thriving city, and our first place of meeting was at his
store. This was a substantial brick building, on a prominent,
busy street. A glance at the interior, as well as at the mas-
sive walls without, gave me the impression that the owner
must be a man of considerable wealth. From this store I was
conducted to his house, where I was kindly received as an
expected guest. My welcome was all I could have asked.
Every member of the family, young and old, seemed glad to
see me, and I was made much at home in a very little while.
I was, however, a little disappointed with the appearance of
the house and with its location. After seeing the fine store I
was prepared to see a fine residence, in an eligible locality, but
this conclusion was completely dispelled by actual observation.
In fact, the house was neither commodious nor elegant, nor its
situation desirable. It was a small wooden building, on a
back street, in a neighborhood chiefly occupied by laboring
(277)
278 JOHN BROWN.
men and mechanics; respectable enough to be sure, but not
quite the place, I thought, where one would look for the resi-
dence of a flourishing and successful merchant. Plain as was
the outside of this man's house, the inside was plainer. Its
furniture would have satisfied a Spartan. It would take
longer to tell what was not in this house than what was in it.
There was an air of plainness about it which almost suggested
destitution. My first meal passed under the misnomer of tea,
though there was nothing about it resembling the usual signifi-
cance of that term. It consisted of beef soup, cabbage, and
potatoes; a meal such as a man might relish after following
the plow all day, or performing a forced march of a dozen
miles over a rough road in frosty weather. Innocent of paint,
vaneering, varnish, or table-cloth, the table announced itself
unmistakably of pine and of the plainest workmanship. There
was no hired help visible. The mother, daughters, and sons
did the serving and did it well. They were evidently used to
it, and had no thought of any impropriety or degradation in
being their own servants. It is said that a house in some
measure reflects the character of its occupants; this one cer-
tainly did. In it there were no disguises, no illusions, no make
believes. Everything implied stern truth, solid purpose, and
rigid economy. I was not long in company with the master
of this house before I discovered that he was indeed the master
of it, and was likely to become mine too if I stayed long
enough with him. He fulfilled St. Paul's idea of the head of
the family His wife believed in him, and his children
observed him with reverence. Whenever he spoke his words
commanded earnest attention. His arguments, which I ven-
tured at some points to oppose, seemed to convince all; his
appeals touched all, and his will impressed all. Certainly I
never felt myself in the presence of a stronger religious influ-
ence than while in this man’s house.
In person he was lean, strong, and sinewy, of the best New
England mould, built for times of trouble, fitted to grapple
with the flintiest hardships. Clad in plain American woolen,


HIS APPEARANCE. 279
shod in boots of cowhide leather, and wearing a cravat of the
same substantial material, under six feet high, less than 150
pounds in weight, aged about fifty, he presented a figure,
straight and symmetrical as a mountain pine. His bearing
was singularly impressive. His head was not large, but com-
pact and high. His hair was coarse, strong, slightly gray and
closely trimmed, and grew low on his forehead. His face was
smoothly shaved, and revealed a strong square mouth, sup-
ported by a broad and prominent chin. His eyes were bluish
gray, and in conversation they were full of light and fire.
When on the street, he moved with a long, springing race
horse step, absorbed by his own reflections, neither seeking or
shunning observation. Such was the man, whose name I had
heard in whispers, such was the spirit of his house and fam-
ily, such was the house in which he lived, and such was Cap-
tain John Brown, whose name has now passed into history, as
one of the most marked characters, and greatest heroes known
to American fame.
After the strong meal already described, Captain Brown
cautiously approached the subject which he wished to bring
to my attention; for he seemed to apprehend opposition to his
views. He denounced slavery in look and language fierce and
bitter, thought that slaveholders had forfeited their right to
live, that the slaves had the right to gain their liberty in any
Way they could, did not believe that moral suasion would ever
liberate the slave, or that political action would abolish the
system. He said that he had long had a plan which could
accomplish this end, and he had invited me to his house to
lay that plan before me. He said he had been for some time
looking for colored men to whom he could safely reveal his
secret, and at times he had almost despaired of finding such
men, but that now he was encouraged, for he saw heads of
such rising up in all directions. He had observed my course
at home and abroad, and he Wanted my coºperation. His
plan as it then lay in his mind, had much to commend it. It
did not, as ". *PPose, contemplate a general rising among
280 HIS PLANS.
the slaves, and a general slaughter of the slave masters. An
insurrection he thought would only defeat the object, but his
plan did contemplate the creating of an armed force which
should act in the very heart of the south. He was not averse
to the shedding of blood, and thought the practice of carrying
arms would be a good one for the colored people to adopt, as
it would give them a sense of their manhood. No people he
said could have self respect, or be respected, who would not
fight for their freedom. He called my attention to a map of
the United States, and pointed out to me the far-reaching
Alleghanies, which stretch away from the borders of New
York, into the Southern States. “These mountains,” he said,
“are the basis of my plan. God has given the strength of the
hills to freedom, they were placed here for the emancipation
of the negro race; they are full of natural forts, where one
man for defense will be equal to a hundred for attack; they
are full also of good hiding places, where large numbers of
brave men could be concealed, and baffle and elude pursuit
for a long time. I know these mountains well, and could take
a body of men into them and keep them there despite of all
the efforts of Virginia to dislodge them. The true object to
be sought is first of all to destroy the money value of slave
property; and that can only be done by rendering such pro-
perty insecure. My plan then is to take at first about twenty-
five picked men, and begin on a small scale; supply them
arms and ammunition, post them in squads of fives on a line
of twenty-five miles, the most persuasive and judicious of
whom shall go down to the fields from time to time, as op-
portunity offers, and induce the slaves to join them, seeking
and selecting the most restless and daring.”
He saw that in this part of the work the utmost care must
be used to avoid treachery and disclosure. Only the most
conscientious and skillful should be sent on this perilous duty;
with care and enterprise he thought he could soon gather a
force of one hundred hardy men, men who would be content
to lead the free and adventurous life to which he proposed to



wAs WHLLING TO LAY DOWN HIS LIFE. - 281
train them, when these were properly drilled, and each man
had found the place for which he was best suited, they would
begin work in earnest; they would run of the slaves in large
numbers, retain the brave and strong ones in the mountains,
and send the weak and timid to the north by the underground
railroad; his operations would be enlarged with increasing
numbers, and, would not be confined to one locality.
When I asked him, how he would support these men? he
said emphatically, he would subsist them upon the enemy.
Slavery was a state of war, and the slave had a right to any-
thing necessary to his freedom. But said I, “suppose you
succeed in running off a few slaves, and thus impress the
Virginia slaveholder with a sense of insecurity in their slaves,
the effect will be only to make them sell their slaves further
south.” “That,” said he, “will be first what I want to do; then
I would follow them up. If we could drive slavery out of one
county, it would be a great gain; it would weaken the system
throughout the state.” “But they would employ bloodhounds
to hunt you out of the mountains.” “That they might at-
tempt,” said he, “but the chances are, we should whip them,
and when we should have whipt one squad, they would be
careful how they pursued.” “But you might be surrounded
and cut off from your provisions or means of subsistence.”
He thought that could not be done so they could not cut their
way out, but even if the worst came, he could but be killed,
and he had no better use for his life than to lay it down in
the cause of the slave. When I suggested that we might
convert the slaveholders, he became much excited, and said
that could never be, “he knew their proud hearts and that
they would never be induced to give up their slaves, until they
felt a big stick about their heads.” He observed that I might
have noticed the simple manner in which he lived, adding
that he had adopted this method in order to save money to
carry out his purposes. This was said in no boastful tone,
for he felt that he had delayed already too long and had no
room to boast either his zeal or his self denial. Had SOD16,

282 THE FREE-SOIL MOVEMENT.
men made such display of rigid virtue, I should have rejected
it, as affected, false and hypocritical, but in John Brown, I felt
it to be real as iron or granite. From this night spent with
John Brown in Springfield, Mass., 1847, while I continued to
write and speak against slavery, I became all the same less
hopeful of its peaceful abolition. My utterances became more
and more tinged by the color of this man's strong impressions.
Speaking at an anti-slavery convention in Salem, Ohio, I ex-
pressed this apprehension that slavery could only be destroyed
by blood-shed, when I was suddenly and sharply interrupted
by my good old friend Sojourner Truth with the question,
“Frederick, is God dead?” “No.” I answered, and “be-
cause God is not dead slavery can only end in blood.” My
quaint old sister was of the Garrison school of non-resistants,
and was shocked at my sanguinary doctrine, but she too be-
came an advocate of the sword, when the war for the mainte-
nance of the Union was declared.
In 1848 it was my privilege to attend, and in some measure
to participate in the famous Free-Soil Convention held in
Buffalo, New York. It was a vast and variegated assemblage,
composed of persons from all sections of the North, and may
be said to have formed a new departure in the history of forces
organized to resist the growing and aggressive demands of
slavery and the slave power. Until this Buffalo convention
anti-slavery agencies had been mainly directed to the work of
changing public sentiment by exposing through the press and
on the platform the nature of the slave system. Anti-slavery
thus far had only been sheet lightning; the Buffalo conven-
tion sought to make it a thunderbolt. It is true the Liberty
party, a political organization, had been in existence since
1840, when it cast seven thousand votes for James G. Birney,
a former slaveholder, but who in obedience to an enlightened
conscience, had nobly emancipated his slaves, and was now
devoting his time and talents to the overthrow of slavery. It
is true that this little party of brave men had increased their
numbers at one time to sixty thousand voters. It, however,

FREE-SOIL PARTY. 283
had now apparently reached its culminating point, and was no
longer able to attract to itself and combine all the available
elements at the North, capable of being marshaled against the
growing and aggressive measures and aims of the slave power.
There were many in the old Whig party known as Conscience-
Whigs, and in the Democratic party known as Barnburners
and Free Democrats, who were anti-slavery in sentiment and
utterly opposed to the extension of the slave system to territory
hitherto uncursed by its presence, but who nevertheless were
not willing to join the Liberty party. It was held to be defi-
cient in numbers and wanting in prestige. Its fate was the
fate of all pioneers. The work it had been required to per-
form had exposed it to assaults from all sides, and it wore on
its front the ugly marks of conflict. It was unpopular for its
very fidelity to the cause of liberty and justice. No wonder
that some of its members, such as Gerrit Smith, William
Goodell, Beriah Green, and Julius Lemoyne refused to quit
the old for the new. They felt that the Free-Soil party was a
step backward, a lowering of the standard, that the people
should come to them, not they to the people. The party which
had been good enough for them ought to be good enough
for all others. Events, however, over-ruled this reasoning.
The conviction became general that the time had come for a
new organization, which should embrace all who were in any
manner opposed to slavery and the slave power, and this
Buffalo Free-Soil convention was the result of that conviction.
It is easy to say that this or that measure would have been
wiser and better than the one adopted. But any measure is
vindicated by its necessity and its results. It was impossible
for the mountain to go to Mahomet, or for the Free-Soil ele-
ment to go to the old Liberty party, so the latter went to the
former. “All is well that ends well.” This Buffalo conven-
tion of free-soilers, however low was their standard, did lay
the foundation of a grand superstructure. It was a powerful
link in the chain of events by which the slave system has been
abolished, the slave emancipated, and the country saved from
dismemberment,

284 CASS AND CALHOUN.
It is nothing against the actors in this new movement that
they did not see the end from the beginning; that they did not
at first take the high ground that further on in the conflict
their successors felt themselves called upon to take, or that
their free-soil party, like the old liberty party, was ultimately
required to step aside and make room for the great Republican
party. In all this and more it illustrates the experience of
reform in all ages, and conforms to the laws of human progress
–Measures change, principles never. -
I was not the only colored man well known to the country
who was present at this convention. Samuel Ringold Ward,
Henry Highland Garnet, Charles L. Remond, and Henry Bibb,
were there and made speeches which were received with sur-
prise and gratification by the thousands there assembled. As
a colored man I felt greatly encouraged and strengthened for
my cause while listening to these men—in the presence of the
ablest men of the Caucasian race. Mr. Ward especially
attracted attention at that convention. As an orator and
thinker he was vastly superior, I thought, to any of us, and
being perfectly black and of unmixed African descent, the
splendors of his intellect went directly to the glory of his
race. In depth of thought, fluency of speech, readiness of wit,
logical exactness, and general intelligence, Samuel R. Ward
has left no successor among the colored men amongst us, and
it was a sad day for our cause when he was laid low in the
soil of a foreign country. -
After the Free Soil party, with “Free Soil,” “Free Labor.”
* Free States,” “Free Speech,” and “Free Men,” on its ban-
ner, had defeated the almost permanently victorious Democratic
party under the leadership of so able and popular a standard-
bearer as General Lewis Cass, Mr. Calhoun and other south-
ern statesmen were more than ever alarmed at the rapid
increase of anti-slavery feeling in the North, and devoted their
energies more and more to the work of devising means
to stay the torrents and tie up the storm. They were not
ignorant of whereunto this sentiment would grow if unsub-

MASON AND WEBSTER. 285
jected and unextinguished. Hence they became fierce and
furious in debate, and more extravagant than ever in their
demands for additional safeguards for their system of robbery
and murder. Assuming that the Constitution guaranteed their
rights of property in their fellowmen, they held it to be in
open violation of the Constitution for any American citizen in
any part of the United States to speak, write, or act against
this right. But this shallow logic they plainly saw could do
them no good unless they could obtain further safeguards for
slavery. In order to effect this, the idea of so changing the
Constitution was suggested, that there should be two instead
of one President of the United States—one from the North
and the other from the South–and that no measure should
become a law without the assent of both. But this device
was soutterly impracticable that it soon dropped out of sight,
and it is mentioned here only to show the desperation of
slaveholders to prop up their system of barbarism against
which the sentiment of the North was being directed with
destructive skill and effect. They clamored for more slave
States, more power in the Senate and House of Representa-
tives, and insisted upon the suppression of free speech. At
the end of two years, in 1850, when Clay and Calhoun, two of
the ablest leaders the South ever had, were still in the Senate,
we had an attempt at a settlement of differences between the
North and South which our legislators meant to be final.
What those measures were I need not here enumerate except
to say that chief among them was the Fugitive Slave Bill,
framed by James M. Mason of Virginia, and supported by
Daniel Webster of Massachusetts; a bill undoubtedly more
designed to involve the North in complicity with slavery and
deaden its moral sentiment than to procure the return of
fugitives to their so-called owners. For a time this design
did not altogether fail. Letters, speeches, and pamphlets
literally rained down upon the people of the North, reminding
them of their constitutional duty to hunt down and return to
bondage runaway slaves. In this the preachers were not much

286 FUGITIVE SLAVE LAW.
behind the press and the politicians, especially that class of
preachers known as Doctors of Divinity. A long list of these
came forward with their Bibles to show that neither Christ
nor his holy apostles objected to returning fugitives to slavery.
Now that that evil day is past a sight of those sermons would, I
doubt not, bring the red blush of shame to the cheeks of many.
Living as I then did in Rochester, on the border of Canada,
I was compelled to see the terribly distressing effects of this
cruel enactment. Fugitive slaves, who had lived for many
years safely and securely in Western New York and else-
where, some of whom had by industry and economy saved
money and bought little homes for themselves and their child-
ren, were suddenly alarmed and compelled to flee to Canada
for safety as from an enemy's land—a doomed city—and take
up a dismal march to a new abode, empty-handed, among
strangers. My old friend Ward, of whom I have just now
spoken, found it necessary to give up the contest and flee to
Canada, and thousands followed his example. Bishop Daniel
A. Payne, of the African Methodist Episcopal church, came to
me about this time to consult me as to whether it was best to
stand our ground or flee to Canada. When I told him I could
not desert my post until I saw I could not hold it, adding that I
did not wish to leave while Garnet and Ward remained,
“Why,” said he, “Ward, Ward, he is already gone. I saw
him crossing from Detroit to Windsor.” I asked him if he
was going to stay, and he answered, “Yes; we are whipped, we
are whipped and we might as well retreat in order.” This
was indeed a stunning blow. This man had power to do more
to defeat this inhuman enactment than any other colored man
in the land, for no other could bring such brain power to
bear against it. I felt like a beseiged city at news that its
defenders had fallen at its gates.
The hardships imposed by this atrocious and shameless law
were cruel and shocking, and yet only a few of all the fugi-
tives of the Northern States were returned to slavery under
its infamously wicked provisions. As a means of recapturing

SIMMS AND ATHONY BURNS. 287
their runaway property in human flesh the law was an utter
failure. Its efficiency was destroyed by its enormity. Its
chief effect was to produce alarm and terror among the class
subject to its operation, and this it did most effectually and
distressingly. Even colored people who had been free all
their lives felt themselves very insecure in their freedom, for
under this law the oaths of any two villains were sufficient to
consign a free man to slavery for life. While the law was a
terror to the free, it was a still greater terror to the escaped
bondman. To him there was no peace. Asleep or awake,
at work or at rest, in church or market, he was liable to
surprise and capture. By the law the judge got ten dollars a
head for all he could consign to slavery, and only five dollars
apeice for any which he might adjudge free. Although I
was now myself free, I was not without apprehension. My
purchase was of doubtful validity, having been bought when
out of the possession of my owner and when he must take
what was given or take nothing. It was a question whether
my claimant could be estopped by such a sale from asserting
certain or supposable equitable rights in my body and soul.
From rumors that reached me my house was guarded by my
friends several nights, when kidnappers, had they come, would
have got anything but a cool reception, for there would have
been “blows to take as well as blows to give.” Happily this
reign of terror did not continue long. Despite the efforts of
Daniel Webster and Millard Fillmore and our Doctors of
Divinity, the law fell rapidly into disrepute. The rescue of
Shadrack resulting in the death of one of the kidnappers, in
Boston, the cases of Simms and Anthony Burns, in the same
place, created the deepest feeling against the law and its up-
holders. But the thing which more than all else destroyed
the fugitive slave law was the resistance made to it by the
fugitives themselves. A decided check was given to the exe-
cution of the law at Christiana, Penn., where three colored
men, being pursued by Mr. Gorsuch and his son, slew the
father, wounded the son, and drove away the officers, and
13*

288 THE JERRY RESCUE.
made their escape to my house in Rochester. The work of
getting these men safely into Canada was a delicate one.
They were not only fugitives from slavery but charged with
murder, and officers were in pursuit of them. There was no
time for delay. I could not look upon them as murderers. To
me, they were heroic defenders of the just rights of man against
manstealers and murderers. So I fed them, and sheltered
them in my house. Had they been pursued then and there,
my home would have been stained with blood, for these men
who had already tasted blood were well armed and prepared
to sell their lives at any expense to the lives and limbs of
their probable assailants. What they had already done at
Christiana and the cool determination which showed very
plainly especially in Parker, (for that was the name of the
leader) left no doubt on my mind that their courage was gen-
uine and that their deeds would equal their words. The situ-
ation was critical and dangerous. The telegraph had that day
announced their deeds at Christiana, their escape, and that
the mountains of Pennsylvania were being searched for the
murderers. These men had reached me simultaneously with
this news in the New York papers. Himmediately after the
occurrence at Christiana, they, instead of going into the moun-
tains, were placed on a train which brought them to Roches-
ter. They were thus almost in advance of the lightning, and
much in advance of probable pursuit, unless the telegraph
had raised agents already here. The hours they spent at my
house were therefore hours of anxiety as well as activity. I
dispatched my friend Miss Julia Griffiths to the landing three
miles away on the Genesee River to ascertain if a steamer
would leave that night for any port in Canada, and remained
at home myself to guard my tired, dust-covered, and sleeping
guests, for they had been harassed and traveling for two days
and nights, and needed rest. Happily for us the suspense was
not long, for it turned out, that that very night a steamer was
to leave for Toronto, Canada.
This fact, however, did not end my anxiety. There was

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. 289
danger that between my house and the landing or at the
landing itself we might meet with trouble. Indeed the land-
ing was the place where trouble was likely to occur if at all.
As patiently as I could, I waited for the shades of night to
come on, and then put the men in my “Democrat car-
riage,” and started for the landing on the Genesee. It was an
exciting ride, and somewhat speedy withal. We reached the
boat at least fifteen minutes before the time of its departure,
and that without remark or molestation. But those fifteen
minutes seemed much longer than usual. I remained on
board till the order to haul in the gang-way was given; I
shook hands with my friends, received from Parker the re-
volver that fell from the hand of Gorsuch when he died,
presented now as a token of gratitude and a memento of the
battle for Liberty at Christiana, and I returned to my home
with a sense of relief which I cannot stop here to describe.
This affair, at Christiana, and the Jerry Rescue at Syracuse,
inflicted fatal wounds on the fugitive slave bill. It became
thereafter almost & dead letter, for slaveholders found that
not only did it fail to put them in possession of their slaves,
but that the attempt to enforce it brought odium upon them-
selves and weakened the slave system.
In the midst of these fugitive slave troubles came the book
known as Uncle Tom's Cabin, a work of marvelous depth and
power. Nothing could have better suited the moral and
humane requirements of the hour. Its effect was amazing,
instantaneous, and universal. No book on the subject of slav-
ery had so generally and favorably touched the American
heart. It combined all the power and pathos of preceding
publications of the kind, and was hailed by many as an in-
spired production. Mrs. Stowe at once became an object of
interest and admiration. She had made fortune and fame at
home, and had awakened a deep interest abroad. Eminent
persons in England roused to anti-slavery enthusiasm by her
“Uncle Tom's Cabin,” invited her to visit that country, and
promised to give her a testimonial. Mrs. Stowe accepted the

290 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
invitation and the proffered testimonial. Before sailing for
England, however, she invited me from Rochester, N. Y., to
spend a day at her house in Andover, Mass. Delighted with
an opportunity to become personally acquainted with the gift-
ed authoress, I lost no time in making my way to Andover.
I was received at her home with genuine cordiality. There
was no contradiction between the author and her book. Mrs.
Stowe appeared in conversation equally as well as she ap-
peared in her writing. She made to me a nice little speech
in announcing her object in sending for me. “I have invited
you here,” she said, “because I wish to confer with you as to
what can be done for the free colored people of the country. I
am going to England and expect to have a considerable sum of
money placed in my hands, and I intend to use it in some
way, for the permanent improvement of the free colored peo-
ple, and especially for that class which has become free by their
own exertions. In what way I can do this most successfully
is the subject I wish to talk with you about. In any event I
desire to have some monument rise after Uncle Tom's Cabin,
which shall show that it produced more than a transient in-
fluence.” She said several plans had been suggested, among
others an educational institution pure and simple, but that
she thought favorably of the establishment of an industrial
school; and she desired me to express my views as to what I
thought would be the best plan to help the free colored people.
I was not slow to tell Mrs. Stowe all I knew and had thought
on the subject. As to a purely educational institution, I
agreed with her that it did not meet our necessities. I argued
against expending money in that way. I was also opposed to
an ordinary industrial school where pupils should merely earn
the means of obtaining an education in books. There were
such schools, already. What I thought of as best was rather
a series of workshops, where colored people could learn some
of the handicrafts, learn to work in iron, wood, and leather,
and where a plain English education could also be taught. I
argued that the want of money was the root of all evil to the

LIFE, LIBERTY, ETC. 291
colored people. They were shut out from all lucrative em-
ployments and compelled to be merely barbers, waiters, coach-
men and the like at wages so low that they could lay up little
or nothing. Their poverty kept them ignorant and their ig-
norance kept them degraded. We needed more to learn how
to make a good living than to learn Latin and Greek.
After listening to me at considerable length, she was good
enough to tell me that she favored my views, and would de-
vote the money she expected to receive abroad to meeting the
want I had described as the most important; by establishing
an institution in which colored youth should learn trades as
well as to read, write, and count. When about to leave Ando-
ver, Mrs. Stowe asked me to put my views on the subject in
the form of a letter, so that she could take it to England with
her and show it to her friends there, that they might see to
what their contributions were to be devoted. I acceded to
her request and wrote her the following letter for the purpose
named.
Roch ESTER, March 8, 1853.
MY DEAR MRs. STOWE:
You kindly informed me, when at your house a fortnight ago, that you
designed to do something which should permanently contribute to the im-
provement and elevation of the free colored people in the United States.
You especially expr 8 ed an interest in such of this class as had become free
by their own exertions, and desired most of all to be of service to them.
In what manner, and by what means you can assist this class most success-
fully, is the subject upon which you have done me the honor to ask my
opinion. . . . I assert then that poverty, ignorance, and degradation are
the combined evils; or in other words, these constitute the social disease of
the free colored people of the United States. -
To deliver them from this triple malady, is to improve and elevate them,
by which I mean simply to put them on an equal footing with their white
fellow countrymen in the sacred right to “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness.” I am for no fancied or artificial elevation, but only ask fair
play. How shall this be obtained? I answer, first, not by establishing for
our use high schools and colleges. Such institutions are, in my judgment,
beyond our immediate occasions and are not adapted to our present most
Pressing wants. High schools and colleges are excellent institutions, and
will in due season be greatly subservient to our progress; but they are the
result, as well as they are the demand of a point of progress, which we as
*people have not yet attained. Accustomed as we have been, to the rougher

292 EIS WIEWS OF EDUCATION.
and harder modes of living, and of gaining a livelihood, we cannot, and we
ought not to hope that in a single leap from our low condition, we can reach
that of Ministers, Lawyers, Doctors, Editors, Merchants, etc. These will
doubtless be attained by us; but this will only be, when we have patiently
and laboriously, and I may add successfully, mastered and passed through
the intermediate gradations of agriculture and the mechanic arts. Besides,
there are (and perhaps this is a better reason for my view of the case) nu-
merous institutions of learning in this country, already thrown open to
colored youth. To my thinking, there are quite as many facilities now af-
forded to the colored people, as they can spare the time, from the sterner
duties of life, to avail themselves of. In their present condition of poverty,
they cannot spare their sons and daughters two or three years at boarding-
schools or colleges, to say nothing of finding the means to sustain them
while at such institutions. I take it, therefore, that we are well provided
for in this respect; and that it may be fairly inferred from the fact, that the
facilities for our education, so far as schools and colleges in the Free States
are concerned, will increase quite in proportion with our future wants.
Colleges have been open to colored youth in this country during the last
dozen years. Yet few comparatively, have acquired a classical education;
and even this few have found themselves educated far above a living con-
dition, there being no methods by which they could turn their learning to
account. Several of this latter class have entered the ministry; but you
need not be told that an educated people is needed to sustain an educated
ministry. There must be a certain amount of cultivation among the people,
to sustain such a ministry. At present we have not that cultivation amongst
us; and therefore, we value in the preacher, strong lungs, rather than high
learning. I do not say, that educated ministers are not needed amongst us,
far from it! I wish there were more of them! but to increase their number,
is not the largest benefit you can bestow upon us.
We have two or three colored lawyers in this country; and I rejoice in the
fact; for it affords very gratifying evidence of our progress. Yet it must
be confessed, that in point of success, our lawyers are as great failures as
our ministers. White people will not employ them to the obvious embar-
rassment of their causes, and the blacks, taking their cue from the whites,
have not sufficient confidence in their abilities to employ them. Hence ed-
ucated colored men, among the colored people, are at a very great discount.
It would seem that education and emigration go together with us, for as
soon as a man rises amongst us, capable, by his genius and learning, to do
us great service, just so soon he finds that he can serve himself better by
going elsewhere. In proof of this, I might instance the Russwurms, the
Garnetts, the Wards, the Crummells and others, all men of superior ability
and attainments, and capable of removing mountains of prejudice against
their race, by their simple presence in the country; but these gentlemen,
finding themselves embarrassed here by the peculiar disadvantages to which
I have referred, disadvantages in part growing out of their education, be-

MECHANICS HATE NEGROES. 293
ing repelled by ignorance on the one hand, and prejudice on the other, and
having no taste to continue a contest against such odds, they have sought
more congenial climes, where they can live more peaceable and quiet lives.
I regret their election, but I cannot blame them; for with an equal amount
of education and the hard lot which was theirs, I might follow their ex-
ample.
There is little reason to hope that any considerable number of the free
colored people will ever be induced to leave this country, even if such a thing
were desirable. The black man (unlike the Indian) loves civilization. He
does not make very great progress in civilization himself but he likes to be
in the midst of it, and prefers to share its most galling evils, to encountering
barbarism. Then the love of country, the dread of isolation, the lack of
adventurous spirit, and the thought of seeming to desert their “brethren in
bonds,” are a powerful check upon all schemes of colonization, which look
to the removal of the colored people, without the slaves. The truthis, dear
madam, we are here, and here we are likely to remain. Individuals emigrate
—nations never. We have grown up with this republic, and I see nothing
in her character, or even in the character of the American people, as yet
which compels the belief that we must leave the United States. If then, we
are to remain here the question for the wise and good is precisely that you
have submitted to me—namely: What can be done to improve the condition
of the free people of color in the United States? The plan which I humbly
submit in answer to this inquiry (and in the hope that it may find favor with
you, and with the many friends of humanity who honor, love, and coöperate
with you) is the establishment in Rochester, N. Y., or in some other part of
the United States equally favorable to such an enterprise, of an INDUSTRIAL
CoLLEGE in which shall be taught several important branches of the mechanic
arts. This college to be open to colored youth. I will pass over the details
of such an institution as I propose. . . . . Never having had a day's
schooling in all my life I may not be expected to map out the details of a
plan so comprehensive as that involved in the idea of a college. I repeat,
then, I leave the organization and administration to the superior wisdom of
yourself and the friends who second your noble efforts. The argument in
favor of an Industrial College (a college to be conducted by the best men,
and the best workmen which the mechanic arts can afford; a college where
colored youth can be instructed to use their hands, as well as their heads;
where they can be put in possession of the means of getting a living whether
their lot in after life may be cast among civilized or uncivilized men; whether
they choose to stay here, or prefer to return to the land of their fathers) is
briefly this: Prejudice against the free colored people in the United States
has shown itself nowhere so invincible as among mechanics. The farmer
and the professional man cherish no feeling so bitter as that cherished by
these. The latter would starve us out of the country entirely. At this
moment I can more easily get my son into a lawyer's office to study law
than I can into a blacksmith's shop to blow the bellows and to wield the

294 AN INDUSTRIAL COLLEGE.
sledge hammer. Denied the means of learning useful trades we are pressed
into the narrowest limits to obtain a livelihood. In times past we have
been the hewers of wood and drawers of water for American society, and
we once enjoyed a monopoly in menial employments, but this is so no longer.
Even these employments are rapidly passing away out of Our hands. The
fact is ſevery day begins with the lesson, and ends with the lesson) that col-
ored men must learn trades; must find new employments; new modes of
usefulness to society, or that they must decay under the pressing wants to
which their condition is rapidly bringing them.
We must become mechanics; we must build as well as live in houses; we
must make as well as use furniture; we must construct bridges as well as
pass over them, before we can properly live or be respected by our fellow men.
We need mechanics as well as ministers. We need workers in iron, clay,
and leather. We have orators, authors, and other professional men, but
these reach only a certain class, and get respect for our race in certain
select circles. To live here as we ought we must fasten ourselves to our
countrymen through their every day cardinal wants. We must not only be
able to black boots, but to make them. At present we are unknown in the
northern States as mechanics. We give no proof of genius or skill at the
county, State, or national fairs. We are unknown at any of the great exhibi-
tions of the industry of our fellow-citizens, and being unknown we are uncon-
sidered.
The fact that we make no show of our ability is held conclusive of our
inability to make any, hence all the indifference and contempt with which
incapacity is regarded fall upon us, and that too when we have had no means
of disproving the infamous opinion of our natural inferiority. I have dur-
ing the last dozen years denied before the Americans that we are an inferior
race; but this has been done by arguments based upon admitted principles
rather than by the presentation of facts. Now firmly believing, as I do,
that there are skill, invention, power, industry, and real mechanical genius,
among the colored people, which will bear favorable testimony for them,
and which only need the means to develop them, I am decidedly in favor of
the establishment of such a college as I have mentioned. The benefits of
such an institution would not be confined to the Northern States, nor to the
free colored people. They would extend over the whole Union. The slave
not less than the freeman would be benefited by such an institution. It
must be confessed that the most powerful argument now used by the south-
ern slaveholder, and the one most soothing to his conscience, is that derived
from the low condition of the free colored people of the north. I have long
felt that too little attention has been given by our truest friends in this
country to removing this stumbling blockout of the way of the slave's libera-
tion. -
The most telling, the most killing refutation of slavery, is the presentation
of an industrious, enterprising, thrifty, and intelligent free black population.
Such a population I believe would rise in the Northern States under the fos-
tering care of such a college as that supposed.

VIEWS OF THE COLORED PEOPLE. 295
To show that we are capable of becoming mechanics I might adduce any
amount of testimony; but, dearmadam, I need not ring the changes on such
a proposition. There is no question in the mind of any unprejudiced per-
son that the Negro is capable of making a good mechanic. Indeed, even
those who cherish the bitterest feelings towards us have admitted that the
apprehension that negroes might be employed in their stead, dictated the policy
of excluding them from trades altogether. But I will not dwell upon this point
as I fear I have already trespassed too long upon your precious time, and
written more than I ought to expect you to read. Allow me to say in con-
clusion, that I believe every intelligent colored man in America will approve
and rejoice at the establishment of some such institution as that now sug-
gested. There are many respectable colored men, fathers of large families,
having boys nearly grown up, whose minds are tossed by day and by night
with the anxious inquiry, what shall I do with my boys? Such an institution
would meet the wants of such persons. Then, too, the establishment of
such an institution would be in character with the eminently practical
philanthropy of your trans-Atlantic friends. America could scarcely object
to it as an attempt to agitate the public mind on the subject of slavery, or to
dissolve the Union. It could not be tortured into a cause for hard words by
the American people, but the noble and good of all classes would see in the
effort an excellent motive, a benevolent object temperately, wisely, and
practically manifested.
Wishing you, dear madam, renewed health, a pleasant passage and safe
return to your native land,
I am most truly, your grateful friend,
FREDERICK Doug LASS.
Mrs. H. B. Stowe.
I was not only requested to write the foregoing letter for
the purpose indicated, but I was also asked, with admirable
foresight, to see and ascertain, as far as possible, the views of
the free colored people themselves in respect to the proposed
measure for their benefit. This I was able to do in July, 1853,
at the largest and most enlightened colored convention that,
up to that time, had ever assembled in this country. This
convention warmly approved the plan of a manual labor
school, as already described, and expressed high appreciation
of the wisdom and benevolence of Mrs. Stowe. This conven-
tion was held in Rochester, N. Y., and will long be remem-
bered there for the surprise and gratification it caused our
friends in that city. They were not looking for such exhibi-
tion of enlightened zeal and ability as were there displayed

296 MRS. STOWE ATTACKED.
in speeches, addresses, and resolutions; and in the conduct of
the business for which it had assembled. Its proceedings
attracted wide-spread attention at home and abroad.
While Mrs. Stowe was abroad, she was attacked by the
pro-slavery press of our country so persistently and vigorously,
for receiving money for her own private use, that the Rev.
Henry Ward Beecher felt called upon to notice and reply to
them in the columns of the New York Independent, of which
he was then the editor. He denied that Mrs. Stowe was
gathering British gold for herself, and referred her assailants
to me, if they would learn what she intended to do with the
money. In answer to her maligners, I denounced their accusa-
tions as groundless, and assured the public through the col-
umns of my paper, that the testimonial then being raised in
England by Mrs. Stowe, would be sacredly devoted to the
establishment of an industrial school for colored youth. This
announcement was circulated by other journals, and the
attacks ceased. Nobody could well object to such application of
money, received from any source, at home or abroad. After
her return to this country, I called again on Mrs. Stowe, and
was much disappointed to learn from her that she had recon-
sidered her plan for the industrial school. I have never been
able to see any force in the reasons for this change. It is
enough, however, to say that they were sufficient for her, and
that she no doubt acted conscientiously, though her change of
purpose was a great disappointment, and placed me in an
awkward position before the colored people of this country,
as well as to friends abroad, to whom I had given assurances
that the money would be appropriated in the manner I have
described.

CHAPTER IX.
INCREASING DEMANDS OF THE SLAVE POWER.
Increased demands of slavery—War in Kansas–John Brown's raid–His
capture and execution—My escape to England from United States
marshals.
OTWITHSTANDING the natural tendency of the
human mind to weary of an old story, and to turn away
from chronic abuses for which it sees no remedy, the anti-
slavery agitation for thirty long years—from 1830 to 1860–
was sustained with ever increasing intensity and power. This
was not entirely due to the extraordinary zeal and ability of
the anti-slavery agitators themselves; for with all their ad-
mitted ardor and eloquence, they could have done very little
without the aid rendered them, unwittingly, by the aggressive
character of slavery itself. It was in the nature of the sys-
tem never to rest in obscurity, although that condition was in
a high degree essential to its security. It was forever forcing
itself into prominence. Unconscious, apparently, of its own
deformity, it omitted no occasion for inviting disgust by seek-
ing approval and admiration. It was noisiest when it should have
been most silent and unobtrusive. One of its defenders, when
asked what would satisfy him as a slaveholder, said “he never
would be satisfied until he could call the roll of his slaves in
the shadow of Bunker Hill monument.” Every effort made
to put down agitation only served to impart to it new strength
and vigor. Of this class was the “gag rule,” attempted and
partially enforced in Congress—the attempted suppression of
the right of petition—the mobocratic demonstrations against
the exercise of free speech—the display of pistols, bludgeons,
and plantation manners in the Congress of the nation—the
demand, shamelessly made by our government upon England,
(297)

298 SLAVEHOLDING AGGRESSION.
for the return of slaves who had won their liberty by their
valor on the high seas—the bill for the recapture of runaway
slaves—the annexation of Texas for the avowed purpose of
increasing the number of slave States, and thus increasing the
power of slavery in the union—the war with Mexico—the
fillibustering expeditions against Cuba and Central America
—the cold-blooded decision of Chief Justice Taney in the
Dred Scott case, wherein he states, as it were, a historical
fact, that “negroes are deemed to have no rights which white
men are bound to respect”—the perfidious repeal of the Mis-
souri compromise, when all its advantages to the South had
been gained and appropriated, and when nothing had been
gained by the North—the armed and bloody attempt to force
slavery upon the virgin soil of Kansas—the efforts of both of
the great political parties to drive from place and power every
man suspected of ideas and principles hostile to slavery—the
rude attacks made upon Giddings, Hale, Chase, Wilson, Wm.
H. Seward, and Charles Sumner–the effort to degrade these
brave men, and drive them from positions of prominence—
the summary manner in which Virginia hanged John Brown;
—in a word, whatever was done or attempted, with a view to
the support and security of slavery, only served as fuel to the
fire, and heated the furnance of agitation to a higher degree
than any before attained. This was true up to the moment
when the nation found it necessary to gird on the sword for
the salvation of the country and the destruction of slavery.
At no time during all the ten years preceding the war, was
the public mind at rest. Mr. Clay's compromise measures in
1850, whereby all the troubles of the country about slavery
were to be “in the deep bosom of the ocean buried,” was hardly
dry on the pages of the statute book before the whole land
was rocked with rumored agitation, and for one, I did my best
by pen and voice, and by ceaseless activity to keep it alive and
vigorous. Later on, in 1854, we had the Missouri comprom-
ise, which removed the only grand legal barrier against the
spread of slavery over all the territory of the United States,

ELECTION OF 1856. 209
From this time there was no pause, no repose. Every body,
however dull, could see that this was a phase of the slavery
question which was not to be slighted or ignored. The peo-
ple of the North had been accustomed to ask, in a tone of
cruel indifference, “What have we to do with slavery 7° and
now no labored speech was required in answer. Slaveholding
aggression settled this question for us. The presence of slav-
ery in a territory would certainly exclude the sons and
daughters of the ree States more effectually than statutes or
yellow fever. Those who cared nothing for the slave, and
were willing to tolerate slavery inside the slave States, were
nevertheless not quite prepared to find themselves and their
children excluded from the common inheritance of the nation.
It is not surprising therefore, that the public mind of the
North was easily kept intensely alive on this subject, nor that
in 1856 an alarming expression of feeling on this point was
seen in the large vote given for John C. Fremont and William L.
Dayton for President and Vice-President of the United States.
Until this last uprising of the North against the slave power
the anti-slavery movement was largely retained in the hands
of the original abolitionists, whose most prominent leaders
have already been mentioned elsewhere in this volume. After
1856 a mightier arm and a more numerous host was raised
against it, the agitation becoming broader and deeper. The
times at this point illustrated the principle of tension and com-
pression, action and reaction. The more open, flagrant, and
impudent the slave power, the more firmly it was confronted
by the rising anti-slavery spirit of the North. No one act did
more to rouse the north to a comprehension of the infernal
and barbarous spirit of slavery and its determination to “rule
or ruin,” than the cowardly and brutal assault made in the
American Senate upon Charles Sumner, by Preston S. Brooks,
a member of Congress from South Carolina. Shocking and
scandalous as was this attack, the spirit in which the deed was
received and commended by the community, was still more
disgraceful, Southern ladies even applauded the armed bully
300 LINCOIN AND DOUGLAS.
for his murderous assault upon an unarmed northern Senator,
because of words spoken in debate This more than all else
told the thoughtful people of the North the kind of civilization
to which they were linked, and how plainly it foreshadowed a
conflict on a larger scale. -
As a measure of agitation, the repeal of the Missouri Compro-
mise alluded to, was perhaps the most effective. It was that
which brought Abraham Lincoln into prominence, and into
conflict with Stephen A. Douglas (who was the author of that
measure) and compelled the Western States to take a deeper
interest than they ever had done before in the whole question.
Pregnant words were now spoken on the side of freedom, words
which went straight to the heart of the nation. It was Mr.
Lincoln who told the American people at this crisis that the
“ Union could not long endure half slave and half free; that
they must be all one or the other, and that the public mind
could find no resting place but in the belief in the ultimate
extinction of slavery.” These were not the words of an aboli-
tionist–branded a fanatic, and carried away by an enthusiastic
devotion to the Negro–but the calm, cool, deliberate utter-
ance of a statesman, comprehensive enough to take in the
welfare of the whole country. No wonder that the friends of
freedom saw in this plain man of Illinois the proper standard-
bearer of all the moral and political forces which could be
united and wielded against the slave power. In a few simple
words he had embodied the thought of the loyal nation, and
indicated the character fit to lead and guide the country amid
perils present and to come.
The South was not far behind the North in recognizing
Abraham Lincoln as the natural leader of the rising political
sentiment of the country against slavery, and it was equally
quick in its efforts to counteract and destroy his influence.
Its papers teemed with the bitterest invectives against the
“backwoodsman of Illinois,” the “flat-boatman,” the “rail-
splitter,” the “third-rate lawyer,” and much else and worse.
Preceding the repeal of the Missouri Compromise I gave, at


HEAD OF THE SLAVE POWER. 301
the anniversary of the American Anti-Slavery Society in New
York, the following picture of the state of the anti-slavery
conflict as it then existed:
“It is evident that there is in this country a purely slavery party, a party
which exists for no other earthly purpose but to promote the interest of
slavery. It is known by no particular name, and has assumed no definite
shape, but its branches reach far and wide in church and state. This shape-
less and nameless party is not intangible in other and more important
respects. It has a fixed, definite, and comprehensive policy towards the
whole free colored population of the United States. I understand that
policy to comprehend: First, the complete suppression of all anti-slavery
discussion; second, the expulsion of the entire free people of the United
States; third, the nationalization of slavery; fourth, guarantees for the end-
less perpetuation of slavery and its extension over Mexico and Central
America. Sir, these objects are forcibly presented to us in the stern logic
of passing events, and in all the facts that have been before us during the
last three years. The country has been and is dividing on these grand issues.
Old party ties are broken. Like is finding its like on both sides of these
issues, and the great battle is at hand. For the present the best representa-
tive of the slavery party is the Democratic party. Its great head for the
present is President Pierce, whose boast it was before his election, that his
whole life had been consistent with the interests of slavery—that he is above
reproach on that score. In his inaugural address he reassures the South on
this point, so there shall be no misapprehension. Well, the head of the slave
power being in power it is natural that the pro-slavery elements should clus-
ter around his administration, and that is rapidly being done. The stringent
protectionist and the free-trader strike hands. The supporters of Fillmore
are becoming the supporters of Pierce. Silver Gray Whigs shake-hands
with Hunker Democrats, the former only differing from the latter in name.
They are in fact of one heart and one mind, and the union is natural and
perhaps inevitable. Pilate and Herod made friends. The key-stone to the
arch of this grand union of forces of the slave party is the so-called
Compromise of 1850. In that measure we have all the objects of our slave-
holding policy specified. It is, sir, favorable to this view of the situation,
that the whig. party and the democratie party bent lower, sunk deeper, and
strained harder in their conventions, preparatory to the late presidential
election to meet the demands of slavery. Never did parties come before the
northern people with propositions of such undisguised contempt for the
*l sentiment and religious ideas of that people. They dared to ask them
to unite with them in a war upon free speech, upon conscience, and to drive
the Almighty presence from the councils of the nation. Resting their plat-
ſºns upon the fugitive slave bill they have boldly asked this people for
political power to execute its horrible and hell-black provisions. The history
* that election reveals with great clearness, the extent to which slavery has
302 BLACK LAW OF ILLINOIS.
“shot its leprous distillment” through the life blood of the nation. The
party most thoroughly opposed to the cause of justice and humanity tri-
umphed, while the party only suspected of a leaning toward those principles
was overwhelmingly defeated, and some say annihilated. But here is a still
more important fact, and still better discloses the designs of the slave power.
It is a fact full of meaning, that no sooner did the democratic party come
into power than a system of legislation was presented to all the legislatures
of the Northern States designed to put those States in harmony with the
fugitive slave law, and with the malignant spirit evinced by the national
government towards the free colored inhabitants of the country. The whole
movement on the part of the States bears unmistakable evidence of having
one origin, of emanating from one head, and urged forward by one power.
It was simultaneous, uniform, and general, and looked only to one end. It
was intended to put thorns under feet already bleeding; to crush a people
already bowed down; to enslave a people already but half free; in a word,
it was intended and well calculated to discourage, dishearten, and if possible
to drive the whole free colored people out of the country. In looking at the
black law then recently enacted in the State of Illinois one is struck dumb by
its enormity. It would seem that the men who passed that law, had not only
successfully banished from their minds all sense of justice, but all sense of
shame as well; these law codes propose to sell the bodies and souls of the
blacks to provide the means of intelligence and refinement for the whites;
to rob every black stranger who ventures among them to increase their
educational fund.
“While this kind of legislation is going on in the States, a pro-slavery
political board of health is being established at Washington. Senators
Hale, Chase, and Sumner are robbed of their senatorial rights and dignity
as representatives of sovereign States, because they have refused to be inoc-
ulated with the pro-slavery virus of the times. Among the services which
a senator is expected to perform, are many that can only be done efficiently
as members of important committees, and the slave power in the Senate, in
saying to these honorable senators, you shall not serve on the committees of
this body, took the responsibility of insulting and robbing the States which
has sent them there. It is an attempt at Washington to decide for the
States who the States shall send to the Senate. Sir, it strikes me that this
aggression on the part of the slave power did not meet at the hands of the
proscribed and insulted senators the rebuke which we had a right to expect
from them. It seems to me that a great opportunity was lost, that the great
principle of senatorial equality was left undefended at a time when its vin-
dication was sternly demanded. But it is not to the purpose of my present
statement to criticize the conduct of friends. Much should be left to the
discretion of anti-slavery men in Congress. Charges of recreancy should
never be made but on the most sufficient grounds. For of all places in the
world where an anti-slavery man needs the confidence and encouragement
of his friends, I take Washington—the citadel of slavery—to be that place.



IRISHMEN HATE NEGROES. 303
“Let attention now be called to the social influences operating and co-
operating with the slave power of the time, designed to promote all its
malign objects. We see here the black man attacked in his most vital inter-
ests: prejudice and hate are systematically excited against him. The wrath
of other laborers is stirred up against him. The Irish, who, at home, readily
sympathize with the oppressed everywhere, are instantly taught when they
step upon our soil to hate and despise the negro. They are taught to
believe that he eats the bread that belongs to them. The cruel lie is told
them, that we deprive them of labor and receive the money which would
otherwise make its way into their pockets. Sir, the Irish-American will
find out his mistake one day. He will find that in assuming our avocation,
he has also assumed our degradation. But for the present we are the suffer-
ers. Our old employments by which we have been accustomed to gain a
livelihood are gradually slipping from our hands: every hour sees us elbowed
out of some employment to make room for some newly arrived emigrant
from the Emerald Isle, whose hunger and color entitle him to special favor.
These white men are becoming house-servants, cooks, stewards, waiters,
and flunkies. For aught I see they adjust themselves to their stations with
all proper humility. If they cannot rise to the dignity of white men, they
show that they can fall to the degradation of black men. But now, sir,
look once more! While the colored people are thus elbowed out of employ-
ment; while a ceaseless enmity in the Irish is excited against us; while
State after State enacts laws against us; while we are being hunted down
like wild beasts; while we are oppressed with a sense of increasing inse-
curity, the American Colonization Society, with hypocrisy written on its
brow, comes to the front, awakens to new life, and vigorously presses its
scheme for our expatriation upon the attention of the American people.
Papers have been started in the North and the South to promote this long
cherished object—to get rid of the negro, who is presumed to be a standing
menace to slavery. Each of these papers is adapted to the latitude in
which it is published, but each and all are united in calling upon the gov-
ernment for appropriations to enable the Colonization Society to send us out
of the country by steam. Evidently this society looks upon our extremity
as their opportunity, and whenever the elements are stirred against us, they
are stimulated to unusual activity. They do not deplore our misfortunes,
but rather rejoice in them, since they prove that the two races cannot flour-
ish on the same soil. But, sir, I must hasten. I have thus briefly given
my view of one aspect of the present condition and future prospects of the
colored people of the United States. And what I have said is far from
encouraging to my afflicted people. I have seen the cloud gather upon the
sable brows of some who hear me. I confess the case looks bad enough.
Sir I am not a hopeful man. I think I am apt to undercalculate the bone-
fits of the future. Yet, sir, in this seemingly desperate case, I do not
despair for my people. There is a bright side to almost every picture, and
* 1s no exception to the general rule. If the influences against us are
304 COLONIZATION SOCIETY.
strong, those for us are also strong. To the inquiry, will our enemies pre-
vail in the execution of their designs—in my God, and in my soul, I believe
they will not. Let us look at the first object sought for by the slavery party
of the country, viz., the suppression of the anti-slavery discussion. They
desire to suppress discussion on this subject, with a view to the peace of the
slaveholder and the security of slavery. Now, sir, neither the principle nor
the subordinate objects, here declared, can be at all gained by the slave
power, and for this reason: it involves the proposition to padlock the lips
of the whites, in order to secure the fetters on the limbs of the blacks.
The right of speech, precious and priceless, cannot—will not—be surren-
dered to slavery. Its suppression is asked for, as I have said, to give peace
and security to slaveholders. Sir, that thing cannot be done. God has
interposed an insuperable obstacle to any such result. “There can be no
peace, saith my God, to the wicked.” Suppose it were possible to put down
this discussion, what would it avail the guilty slaveholder, pillowed as he
is upon the heaving bosoms of ruined souls? He could not have a peace-
ful spirit. If every anti-slavery tongue in the nation were silent—every
anti-slavery organization dissolved—every anti-slavery periodical, paper,
pamphlet, book, or what not, searched out, burned to ashes, and their
ashes given to the four winds of heaven, still, still the slaveholder could
have no peace. In every pulsation of his heart, in every throb of his life,
in every glance of his eye, in the breeze that soothes, and in the thunder
that startles, would be waked up an accuser, whose cause is, thou art verily
> * >
guilty concerning thy brother.
This is no fancy sketch of the times indicated. The situa-
tion during all the administration of President Pierce was
only less threatening and stormy than that under the admin-
istration of James Buchanan. One sowed, the other reaped.
One was the wind, the other was the whirlwind. Intoxicated
by their success in repealing the Missouri compromise—in
divesting the native-born colored man of American citizen-
ship—in harnessing both the Whig and Democratic parties to
the car of slavery, and in holding continued possession of the
national government, the propagandists of slavery threw off
all disguises, abandoned all semblance of moderation, and
very naturally and inevitably proceeded under Mr. Buchanan,
to avail themselves of all the advantages of their victories.
Having legislated out of existence the great national wall,
erected in the better days of the republic, against the spread
of slavery, and against the increase of its power—having



CONTEST OVER KANSAS. 305
blotted out all distinction, as they thought, between freedom
and slavery in the law, theretofore, governing the Territories of
the United States, and having left the whole question of the
legislation or prohibition of slavery to be decided by the peo-
ple of a Territory, the next thing in order was to fill up the
Territory of Kansas–the one likely to be first organized–
with a people friendly to slavery, and to keep out all such as
were opposed to making that Territory a free State. Here
was an open invitation to a fierce and bitter strife; and the
history of the times shows how promptly that invitation was
accepted by both classes to which it was given, and the scenes
of lawless violence and blood that followed.
All advantages were at first on the side of those who were
for making Kansas a slave State. The moral force of the
repeal of the Missouri compromise was with them ; the
strength of the triumphant Democratic party was with them;
the power and patronage of the federal government was with
them; the various governors, sent out under the Territorial
government, was with them; and, above all, the proximity of
the Territory to the slave State of Missouri favored them and
all their designs. Those who opposed the making Kansas a
slave State, for the most part were far away from the battle-
ground, residing chiefly in New England, more than a thou-
sand miles from the eastern border of the Territory, and their
direct way of entering it was through a country violently hos-
tile to them. With such odds against them, and only an idea
—though a grand one—to support them, it will ever be a won-
der that they succeeded in making Kansas a free State. It is
not my purpose to write particularly of this or of any other
phase of the conflict with slavery, but simply to indicate the
nature of the struggle, and the successive steps, leading to
the final result. The important point to me, as one desiring
to see the slave power crippled, slavery limited and abolished,
was the effect of this Kansas battle upon the moral sentiment
of the North; how it made abolitionists before they them-
selves became aware of it, and how it rekindled the zeal, stim-
306 JOHN BROWN.
ulated the activity, and strengthened the faith of our old
anti-slavery forces. “Draw on me for $1,000 per month while
the conflict lasts,” said the great-hearted Gerrit Smith. George
L. Stearns poured out his thousands, and anti-slavery men of
smaller means were proportionally liberal. H. W. Beecher
shouted the right word at the head of a mighty column;
Sumner in the Senate spoke as no man had ever spoken there
before. Lewis Tappan representing one class of the old oppo-
nents of slavery, and William L. Garrison the other, lost sight
of their former differences, and bent all their energies to the
freedom of Kansas. But these and others were merely gen-
erators of anti-slavery force. The men who went to Kansas
with the purpose of making it a free State, were the heroes
and martyrs. One of the leaders in this holy crusade for
freedom, with whom I was brought into near relations, was
John Brown, whose person, house, and purposes I have already
described. This brave old man and his sons were amongst
the first to hear and heed the trumpet of freedom calling
them to battle. What they did and suffered, what they
sought and gained, and by what means, are matters of history,
and need not be repeated here.
When it became evident, as it soon did, that the war for and
against slavery in Kansas was not to be decided by the peace-
ful means of words and ballots, but that swords and bullets
were to be employed on both sides. Captain John Brown felt
that now, after long years of waiting, his hour had come, and
never did man meet the perilous requirements of any occasion
more cheerfully, courageously, and disinterestedly than he.
I met him often during this struggle, and saw deeper into his
soul than when I met him in Springfield seven or eight years
before, and all I saw of him gave me a more favorable
impression of the man, and inspired me with a higher respect
for his character. In his repeated visits to the East to obtain
necessary arms and supplies, he often did me the honor of
spending hours and days with me at Rochester. On more
than one occasion I got up meetings and solicited aid to be


HIS WORK IN KANSAS. 307
used by him for the cause, and I may say without boasting
that my efforts in this respect were not entirely fruitless.
Deeply interested as “Ossawatamie Brown” was in Kansas he
never lost sight of what he called his greater work—the libera-
tion of all the slaves in the United States. But for the then
present he saw his way to the great end through Kansas. It
would be a grateful task to tell of his exploits in the border
struggle, how he met persecution with persecution, war with
war, strategy with strategy, assassination and house-burning
with signal and terrible retaliation, till even the blood-thirsty
propagandists of slavery were compelled to cry for quarter.
The horrors wrought by his iron hand cannot be contemplated
without a shudder, but it is the shudder which one feels at the
execution of a murderer. The amputation of a limb is a
severe trial to feeling, but necessity is a full justification of it
to reason. To call out a murderer at midnight, and without
note or warning, judge or jury, run him through with a
sword, was a terrible remedy for a terrible malady. The
question was not merely which class should prevail in Kansas,
but whether free-state men should live there at all. The
border ruſſians from Missouri had openly declared their pur-
pose not only to make Kansas a slave state, but that they
would make it impossible for free-state men to live there. They
burned their towns, burned their farm-houses, and by assassi-
nation spread terror among them until many of the free-state
settlers were compelled to escape for their lives. John Brown
was therefore the logical result of slaveholding persecutions.
Until the lives of tyrants and murderers shall become more
precious in the sight of men than justice and liberty, John
Brown will need no defender. In dealing with the ferocious
enemies of the free-state cause in Kansas he not only showed
boundless courage but eminent military skill. With men so
few and odds against him so great, few captains ever surpassed
him in achievements, some of which seem too disproportionate
for belief, and yet no voice has yet called them in question.
With only eight men he met, fought, whipped, and captured

308 HE LIBERATES SLAVES IN MISSOURI.
Henry Clay Pate with twenty-five well-armed and well-
mounted men. In this battle he selected his ground so
wisely, handled his men so skillfully, and attacked his enemies
so vigorously, that they could neither run nor fight, and were
therefore compelled to surrender to a force less than one-third
their own. With just thirty men on another memorable
occasion he met and vanquished 400 Missourians under the
command of General Read. These men had come into the
territory under an oath never to return to their homes in
Missouri till they had stamped out the last vestige of the free-
state spirit in Kansas. But a brush with old Brown instantly
took this high conceit out of them, and they were glad to get
home upon any terms, without stopping to stipulate. With
less than 100 men to defend the town of Lawrence, he offered
to lead them and give battle to 1,400 men on the banks of the
Waukerusia river, and was much vexed when his offer was
refused by General Jim Lane and others, to whom the defense
of the place was committed. Before leaving Kansas he went
into the border of Missouri and liberated a dozen slaves in a
single night, and despite of slave laws and marshals, he
brought these people through a half dozen States and landed
them safe in Canada. The successful efforts of the North in
making Kansas a free State, despite all the sophistical doc-
trines, and the sanguinary measures of the South to make it a
slave State, exercised a potent influence upon subsequent
political forces and events in the then near future. It is inter-
esting to note the facility with which the statesmanship of a
section of the country adapted its convictions to changed con-
ditions. When it was found that the doctrine of popular
sovereignty (first I think invented by General Cass, and after-
wards adopted by Stephen A. Douglas) failed to make Kansas
a slave State, and could not be safely trusted in other emer-
gencies, southern statesmen promptly abandoned and repro-
bated that doctrine, and took what they considered firmer
ground. They lost faith in the rights, powers, and wisdom of
the people and took refuge in the Constitution. Henceforth

DRED SCOTT DECISION. 309
the favorite doctrine of the South was that the people of a
territory had no voice in the matter of slavery whatever; that
the Constitution of the United States, of its own force and
effect, carried slavery safely into any territory of the United
States and protected the system there until it ceased to be a
territory and became a State. The practical operation of this
doctrine would be to make all the future new States slave-
holding States, for slavery once planted and nursed for years
in a territory would easily strengthen itself against the evil
day and defy eradication. This doctrine was in some sense
supported by Chief Justice Taney, in the infamous Dred Scott
decision. This new ground, however, was destined to bring
misfortune to its inventors, for it divided for a time the demo-
cratic party, one faction of it going with John C. Breckenridge
and the other espousing the cause of Stephen A. Douglas; the
one held firmly to the doctrine that the United States Consti-
tution, without any legislation, territorial, national, or other-
wise, by its own force and effect, carried slavery into all the
territories of the United States; the other held that the people
of a territory had the right to admit slavery or reject slavery,
as in their judgment they might deem best. Now, while this
war of words—this conflict of doctrines—was in progress, the
portentous shadow of a stupendous civil war became more and
more visible. Bitter complaints were raised by the slavehold-
ers that they were about to be despoiled of their proper share
in territory won by a common valor, or bought by a common
treasure. The North, on the other hand, or rather a large
and growing party at the North, insisted that the complaint
was unreasonable and groundless; that nothing properly con-
sidered as property was excluded or meant to be excluded
from the territories; that southern men could settle in any
territory of the United States with some kinds of property,
and on the same footing and with the same protection as
citizens of the North; that men and women are not property
in the same sense as houses, lands, horses, sheep, and swine
are property, and that the fathers of the Republic neither
310 HARPER’s FERRY.
intended the extension nor the perpetuity of slavery; that
liberty is national, and slavery is sectional. From 1856 to
1860 the whole land rocked with this great controversy. When
the explosive force of this controversy had already weakened
the bolts of the American Union; when the agitation of the
public mind was at its topmost height; when the two sections
were at their extreme points of difference; when comprehend-
ing the perilous situation, such statesmen of the North as
William H. Seward sought to allay the rising storm by soft,
persuasive speech, and when all hope of compromise had
nearly vanished, as if to banish even the last glimmer of hope
for peace between the sections, John Brown came upon the
scene. On the night of the 16th of October, 1859, there
appeared near the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah
rivers, a party of 19 men—14 white and 5 colored. They
were not only armed themselves, but they brought with them
a large supply of arms for such persons as might join them.
These men invaded the town of Harper's Ferry, disarmed the
watchman, took possession of the arsenal, rifle factory,
armory, and other government property at that place, arrested
and made prisoners of nearly all the prominent citizens in the
neighborhood, collected about 50 slaves, put bayonets into the
hands of such as were able and willing to fight for their liberty,
killed 3 men, proclaimed general emancipation, held the
ground more than thirty hours, were subsequently overpow-
ered and nearly all killed, wounded, or captured by a body of
United States troops under command of Col. Robert E. Lee,
since famous as the rebel General Lee. Three out of the
nineteen invaders were captured while fighting, and one of
them was Capt. John Brown—the man who originated, plan-
ned, and commanded the expedition. At the time of his capture
Capt. Brown was supposed to be mortally wounded, as he had
several ugly gashes and bayonet wounds on his head and body,
and apprehending that he might speedily die, or that he might
be rescued by his friends, and thus the opportunity to make
him a signal example of slaveholding vengeance, would be lost,



JOHN BROWN CAPTURED AND EXECUTED. 3.11
his captors hurried him to Charlestown, 10 miles further
within the border of Virginia, placed him in prison strongly
guarded by troops, and before his wounds were healed he was
brought into court, subjected to a nominal trial, convicted of
high-treason and inciting slaves to insurrection, and was
executed.
His corpse was given up to his woe-stricken widow, and she,
assisted by anti-slavery friends, caused it to be borne to North
Elba, Essex county, N. Y., and there his dust now reposes
amid the silent, solemn, and snowy grandeurs of the Adiron-
dacks. This raid upon Harper's Ferry was as the last straw
to the camel's back. What in the tone of southern sentiment
had been fierce before became furious and uncontrollable now.
A scream for vengeance came up from all sections of the slave
States and from great multitudes in the North. All who were
supposed to have been any way connected with John Brown
were to be hunted down and surrendered to the tender mor-
cies of slaveholding and panic-stricken Virginia, and there to
be tried after the fashion of John Brown's trial, and of course
to be summarily executed.
On the evening when the news came that John Brown had
taken and was then holding the town of Harper's Ferry, it so
happened that I was speaking to a large audience in National
Hall, Philadelphia. The announcement came upon us with
the startling effect of an earthquake. It was something to make
the boldest hold his breath. I saw at once that my old friend
had attempted what he had long ago resolved to do, and I felt
certain that the result must be his capture and destruction.
As I expected, the next day brought the news that with two
or three men he had fortified and was holding a small engine
house, but that he was surrounded by a body of Virginia
militia, who thus far had not ventured to capture the insur.
gents, but that escape was impossible. A few hours later and
word came that Colonel Robert E. Lee with a company of
United States troops had made a breach in Capt. Brown's fort,
and had * him alive though mortally wounded. His
312 THE AUTHOR FEARS ARREST.
carpet bag had been secured by Governor Wise, and that it
was found to contain numerous letters and documents which
directly implicated Gerritt Smith, Joshua R. Giddings, Samuel
G. Howe, Frank P. Sanborn, and myself. This intelligence
was soon followed by a telegram saying that we were all to be
arrested. Knowing that I was then in Philadelphia, stopping
with my friend, Thomas J. Dorsey, Mr. John Horn, the tele.
graph operator, came to me and with others urged me to
leave the city by the first train, as it was known through the
newspapers that I was then in Philadelphia, and officers might
even then be on my track. To me there was nothing improba.
ble in all this. My friends for the most part were appalled at
the thought of my being arrested then or there, or while on
my way across the ferry from Walnut street wharf to Camden,
for there was where I felt sure the arrest would be made, and
asked some of them to go so far as this with me merely to
see what might occur, but upon one ground or another they
all thought it best not to be found in my company at such a
time, except dear old Franklin Turner—a true man. The
truth is, that in the excitement which prevailed my friends
had reason to fear that the very fact that they were with me
would be a sufficient reason for their arrest with me. The
delay in the departure of the steamer seemed unusually long
to me, for I confess I was seized with a desire to reach a more
northern latitude. My friend Frank did not leave my side till
“all ashore ” was ordered and the paddles began to move. I
reached New York at night, still under the apprehension of
arrest at any moment, but no signs of such event being made,
I went at once to the Barclay street ferry, took the boat across
the river and went direct to Washington street, Hoboken, the
home of Mrs. Marks, where I spent the night, and I may add
without undue profession of timidity, an ancious night. The
morning papers brought no relief, for they announced that the
government would spare no pains in ferretting out and bring-
ing to punishment all who were connected with the Harper's
Ferry outrage, and that papers as well as persons would be


SAVES HIS PAPERS. 313
searched for. I was now somewhat uneasy from the fact that
sundry letters and a constitution written by John Brown were
locked up in my desk in Rochester. In order to prevent these
papers from falling into the hands of the government of
Virginia, I got my friend Miss Ottilia Assing to write to my
dictation the following telegram to B. F. Blackall, the tele-
graph operator in Rochester, a friend and frequent visitor at
my house, who would readily understand the meaning of the
dispatch: -
“B. F. BLACKALL, Esq.,
“Tell Lewis (my oldest son) to secure all the important papers in my
high desk.”
I did not sign my name, and the result showed that I had
rightly judged that Mr. Blackall, would understand and
promptly attend to the request. The mark of the chisel with
which the desk was opened is still on the drawer, and is one of
the traces of the John Brown raid. Having taking measures
to secure my papers the trouble was to know just what to do
with myself. To stay in Hoboken was out of the question,
and to go to Rochester was to all appearance to go into the
hands of the hunters, for they would naturally seek me at my
home if they sought me at all. I, however, resolved to go
home and risk my safety there. I felt sure that once in the
city I could not be easily taken from there without a prelimi-
nary hearing upon the requisition, and not then if the people
could be made aware of what was in progress. But how to
get to Rochester became a serious question. It would not do
to go to New York city and take the train, for that city was
not less incensed against the John Brown conspirators than
many parts of the South. The course hit upon by my friends,
Mr. Johnston and Miss Assing, was to take me at night in a
private conveyance from Hoboken to Paterson, where I could
take the Erie railroad for home. This plan was carried out
and I reached home in safety, but had been there but a few
moments when I was called upon by Samuel D. Porter, Esq.,
and my neighbor, Lieutenant-Governor Selden, who informed

314 PIE GOES TO CANADA.
me that the governor of the State would certainly surrender
me on a proper requisition from the governor of Virginia, and
that while the people of Rochester would not permit me to be
taken South, yet in order to avoid collision with the govern-
ment and consequent bloodshed, they advised me to quit the
country, which I did—going to Canada. Governor Wise in
the meantime, being advised that I had left Rochester for the
State of Michigan, made requisition on the governor of that
State for my surrender to Virginia.
The following letter from Governor Wise to President
James Buchanan (which since the war was sent me by B. J.
Lossing, the historian,) will show by what means the governor
of Virginia meant to get me in his power, and that my appre-
hensions of arrest were not altogether groundless:
[Confidential.]
RICHMOND, WA., Nov. 13, 1859.
To His Eccellency, James Buchanan, President of the United States, and to
the Honorable Pºstmaster-General of the United States:
GENTLEMEN-I have information such as has caused me, upon proper
affidavits, to make requisition upon the Executive of Michigan for the
delivery up of the person of Frederick Douglass, a negro man, supposed
now to be in Michigan, charged with murder, robbery, and inciting servile
insurrection in the State of Virginia. My agents for the arrest and reclamation
of the person so charged are Benjamin M. Morris and William N. Kelly.
The latter has the requisition, and will wait on you to the end of obtaining
nominal authority as post-office agents. They need be very secretive in this
matter, and some pretext for traveling through the dangerous section for the
execution of the laws in this behalf, and some protection against obtrusive,
unruly, or lawless violence. If it be proper so to do, will the postmaster-
general be pleased to give to Mr. Kelly, for each of these men, a permit and
authority to act as detectives for the post-office department, without pay,
but to pass and repass without question, delay or hindrance?
Respectfully submitted by your obedient servant,
HENRY A. WISE.
There is no reason to doubt that James Buchanan afforded
Governor Wise all the aid and coöperation for which he was
asked. I have been informed that several United States mar-
shals were in Rochester in search of me within six hours aft
my departure. I do not know that I can do better at this

TERROR-STRICKEN SLAVEHOLDERS. 315
stage of my story than to insert the following letter, written
by me to the Rochester Democrat and American :
CANADA WEST, Oct. 31st, 1859.
MR. EDITOR: -
I notice that the telegraph makes Mr. Cook (one of the unfortunate mºur
gents at Harper's Ferry, and now a prisoner in the hands of the thing callin g
itself the Government of Virginia, but which in fact is but an organized
conspiracy by one party of the people against another and weaker) denounce
me as a coward, and assert that I promised to be present in person at the
Harper's Ferry insurrection. This is certainly a very grave impeachment
whether viewed in its bearings upon friends or upon foes, and you will not
think it strange that I should take a somewhat serious notice of it. Having
no acquaintance whatever with Mr. Cook, and never having exchanged a
word with him about Harper's Ferry insurrection, I am disposed to doubt if
he could have used the language concerning me, which the wires attribute
to him. The lightning when speaking for itself, is among the most direct,
reliable, and truthful of things; but when speaking of the terror-stricken
slaveholders at Harper's Ferry, it has been made the swiftest of liars.
Under its nimble and trembling fingers it magnifies 17 men into 700 and has
since filled the columns of the New York Herald for days with its intermin-
able contradictions. But assuming that it has told only the simple truth as
to the sayings of Mr. Cook in this instance, I have this answer to make to
my accuser: Mr. Cook may be perfectly right in denouncing me as a coward;
I have not one word to say in defense or vindication of my character for cour-
age; I have always been more distinguished for running than fighting, and
tried by the Harper's-Ferry-insurrection-test, I am most miserably deficient in
courage, even more so than Cook when he deserted his brave old captain and
fled to the mountains. To this extent Mr. Cook is entirely right, and will meet
no contradiction from me, or from anybody else. But wholly, grievously and
most unaccountably wrong is Mr. Cook when he asserts that I promised to
be present in person at the Harper's Ferry insurrection. Of whatever other
imprudence and indiscretion I may have been guilty, I have never made a
promise so rash and wild as this. The taking of Harper's Ferry was a
measure never encouraged by my word or by my vote. At any time or
place, my wisdom or my cowardice, has not only kept me from Harper's
Ferry, but has equally kept me from making any promise to go there. I
desire to be quite emphatic here, for of all guilty men, he is the guiltiest who
lures his fellowmen to an undertaking of this sort, under promise of assist-
ance which he afterwards fails to render. I therefore declare that there is
no man living, and no man dead, who if living, could truthfully say that I
ever promised him, or anybody else, either conditionally, or otherwise, that
I would be present in person at the Harper's Ferry insurrection. My field
of labor for the abolition of slavery has not extended to an attack upon the
United States arsenal. In the teeth of the documents already published and

316 John BROWN’s GHOST.
of those which may hereafter be published, I affirm that no man connected
with that insurrection, from its noble and heroic leader down, can connect
my name with a single broken promise of any sort whatever. So much I
deem it proper to say negatively. The time for a full statement of what I
know and of ALL I know of this desperate but sublimely disinterested effort
to emancipate the slaves of Maryland and Virginia from their cruel task-
masters, has not yet come, and may never come. In the denial which I
have now made, my motive is more a respectful consideration for the opin-
ions of the slave's friends than from my fear of being made an accomplice
in the general conspiracy against slavery, when there is a reasonable hope
for success. Men who live by robbing their fellowmen of their labor and
liberty have forfeited their right to know anything of the thoughts, feelings,
or purposes of those whom they rob and plunder. They have by the single
act of slaveholding, voluntarily placed themselves beyond the laws of jus-
tice and honor, and have become only fitted for companionship with thieves
and pirates—the common enemies of God and of all mankind. While it shall
be considered right to protect oneself against thieves, burglars, robbery, and
assassins, and to slay a wild beast in the act of devouring his human prey, it can
never be wrong for the imbruted and whip-scarred slaves, or their friends, to
hunt, harass, and even strike down the traffickers in human flesh. If any
body is disposed to think less of me on account of this sentiment, or because
I may have had a knowledge of what was about to occur, and did not
assume the base and detestable character of an informer, he is a man whose
good or bad opinion of me may be equally repugnant and despicable.
Entertaining these sentiments, I may be asked why I did not join John
Brown—the noble old hero whose one right hand has shaken the founda-
tion of the American Union, and whose ghost will haunt the bed-chambers
of all the born and unborn slaveholders of Virginia through all their gen-
erations, filling them with alarm and consternation. My answer to this
has already been given; at least impliedly given—“The tools to those who
can use them!” Let every man work for the abolition of slavery in his
own way. I would help all and hinder none. My position in regard to the
Harper's Ferry insurrection may be easily inferred from these remarks, and
I shall be glad if those papers which have spoken of me in connection with
it, would find room for this brief statement. I have no apology for keep-
ing out of the way of those gentlemanly United States marshals, who are
said to have paid Rochester a somewhat protracted visit lately, with a view
to an interview with me. A government recognizing the validity of the
Dred Scott decision at such a time as this, is not likely to have any very
charitable feelings towards me, and if I am to meet its representatives I prefer
to do so at least upon equal terms. If I have committed any offense against
society I have done so on the soil of the State of New York, and I should
be perfectly willing to be arraigned there before an impartial jury; but I
have quite insuperable objections to being caught by the hounds of Mr.
Buchanan, and “bagged” by Gov. Wise. For this appears to be the

BUCHANAN AND WISE. 317
arrangement. Buchanan does the fighting and hunting, and Wise “bags”
the game. Some reflections may be made upon my leaving on a tour to
England just at this time. I have only to say that my going to that coun.
try has been rather delayed than hastened by the insurrection at Harper's
Ferry. All know that I had intended to leave here in the first week of
November.
FREDERICK Douglass.”

CHAPTER X.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
My connection with John Brown–To and from England–Presidential con-
test–Election of Abraham Lincoln.
HAT was my connection with John Brown, and what
I knew of his scheme for the capture of Harper's
Ferry, I may now proceed to state. From the time of my
visit to him in Springfield, Mass., in 1847, our relations were
friendly and confidential. I never passed through Springfield
without calling on him, and he never came to Rochester with-
out calling on me. He often stopped over night with me,
when we talked over the feasibility of his plan for destroying
the value of slave property, and the motive for holding slaves
in the border States. That plan, as already intimated else-
where, was to take twenty or twenty-five discreet and trust-
worthy men into the mountains of Virginia and Maryland,
and station them in squads of five, about five miles apart, on
a line of twenty-five miles; each squad to co-operate with all,
and all with each. They were to have selected for them,
secure and comfortable retreats in the fastnesses of the moun-
tains, where they could easily defend themselves in case of
attack. They were to subsist upon the country roundabout.
They were to be well armed, but were to avoid battle or vio-
lence, unless compelled by pursuit or in self-defense. In that
case, they were to make it as costly as possible to the assail-
ing party, whether that party should be soldiers or citizens.
He further proposed to have a number of stations from the
line of Pennsylvania to the Canada border, where such slaves
as he might, through his men, induce to run away, should be
supplied with food and shelter and be forwarded from one
station to another till they should reach a place of safety
(318)

what HE KNEw of BROWN’s PLANS. 319
either in Canada or the Northern States. He proposed to add
to his force in the mountains any courageous and intelligent
fugitives who might be willing to remain and endure the hard-
ships and brave the dangers of this mountain life. These, he
thought, if properly selected, on account of their knowledge
of the surrounding country, could be made valuable auxilia-
ties. The work of going into the valley of Virginia and per-
suading the slaves to flee to the mountains, was to be com-
mitted to the most courageous and judicious man connected
with each squad.
Hating slavery as I did, and making its abolition the object
of my life, I was ready to welcome any new mode of attack
upon the slave system which gave any promise of success. I
readily saw that this plan could be made very effective in
rendering slave property in Maryland and Virginia valueless
by rendering it insecure. Men do not like to buy runaway
horses, nor to invest their money in a species of property likely
to take legs and walk off with itself. In the worse case, too,
if the plan should fail, and John Brown should be driven
from the mountains, a new fact would be developed by which
the nation would be kept awake to the existence of slavery.
Hence, I assented to this, John Brown's scheme or plan for
running off slaves. -
To set this plan in operation, money and men, arms and
ammunition, food and clothing, were needed; and these, from
the nature of the enterprise, were not easily obtained, and
nothing was immediately done. Captain Brown, too, notwith-
standing his rigid economy, was poor, and was unable to arm
and equip men for the dangerous life he had mapped out. So
the work lingered till after the Kansas trouble was over, and
freedom was a fact accomplished in that Territory. This left
him with arms and men, for the men who had been with him
in Kansas, believed in him, and would follow him in any
humane but dangerous enterprise he might undertake.
After the close of his Kansas work, Captain Brown came
to my house in Rochester, and said he desired to stop with me
320 BROWN AT AUTHOR's HOUSE.
several weeks; “but,” he added, “I will not stay unless you
will allow me to pay board.” Knowing that he was no trifier
and meant all he said, and desirous of retaining him under
my roof, I charged three dollars a week. While here, he
spent most of his time in correspondence. He wrote often
to George L. Stearns of Boston, Gerrit Smith of Peterboro, N.
Y., and many others, and received many letters in return.
When he was not writing letters, he was writing and revising
a constitution which he meant to put in operation by the men
who should go with him in the mountains. He said that to
avoid anarchy and confusion, there should be a regularly con-
stituted government, to which each man who came with him
should be sworn to honor and support. I have a copy of this
constitution in Captain Brown's own handwriting, as prepared
by himself at my house. -
He called his friends from Chatham (Canada) to come
together that he might lay his constitution before them, for
their approval and adoption. His whole time and thought
were given to this subject. It was the first thing in the morn-
ing and the last thing at night, till I confess it began to be
something of a bore to me. Once in a while he would say he
could, with a few resolute men, capture Harper's Ferry, and
supply himself with arms belonging to the government at that
place, but he never announced his intention to do so. It was
however, very evidently passing in his mind as a thing he
might do. I paid but little attention to such remarks, though
I never doubted that he thought just what he said. Soon
after his coming to me, he asked me to get for him two
smoothly planed boards, upon which he could illustrate, with
a pair of dividers, by a drawing, the plan of fortification
which he meant to adopt in the mountains.
These forts were to be so arranged as to connect one with
the other, by secret passages, so that if one was carried,
another could easily be fallen back upon, and be the means
of dealing death to the enemy at the very moment when he
might think himself victorious. I was less interested in these



COL, FORBES EXPOSES BROWN. 321
drawings than my children were, but they showed that the old
man had an eye to the means as well as to the end, and was
giving his best thought to the work he was about to take in
hand.
It was his intention to begin this work in '58 instead of
'59. Why he did not will appear from the following cir-
cumstances.
While in Kansas, he made the acquaintance of one Colonel
Forbes, an Englishman, who had figured somewhat in revolu-
tionary movements in Europe, and, as it turned out, had
become an adventurer—a soldier of fortune in this country.
This Forbes professed to be an expert in military matters, and
easily fastened upon John Brown, and, becoming master of
his scheme of liberation, professed great interest in it, and
offered his services to him in the preparation of his men for
the work before them. After remaining with Brown a short
time, he came to me in Rochester, with a letter from him,
asking me to receive and assist him. I was not favorably
impressed with Colonel Forbes at first, but I “conquered my
prejudice,” took him to a hotel and paid his board while he
remained. Just before leaving, he spoke of his family in
Europe as in destitute circumstances, and of his desire to send
them some money. I gave him a little—I forget how much
—and through Miss Assing, a German lady, deeply interested
in the John Brown scheme, he was introduced to several of my
German friends in New York. But he soon wore them out
by his endless begging; and when he could make no more
money by professing to advance the John Brown project, he
threatened to expose it, and all connected with it. I think I
was the first to be informed of his tactics, and I promptly
communicated them to Captain Brown. Through my friend
Miss Assing, I found that Forbes had told of Brown's designs
to Horace Greeley, and to the government officials at Wash-
ington, of which I informed Captain Brown, and this led to
the postponement of the enterprise another year. It was
hoped that by this delay, the story of Forbes would be dis-

322 SHIELDS GREEN.
credited, and this calculation was correct, for nobody believed
the scoundrel, though in this he told the truth.
While at my house, John Brown made the acquaintance of
a colored man who called himself by different names—some-
times “Emperor,” at other times, “Shields Green.” He was
a fugitive slave, who had made his escape from Charleston,
South Carolina, a State from which a slave found it no easy
matter to run away. But Shields Green was not one to shrink
from hardships or dangers. He was a man of few words, and
his speech was singularly broken ; but his courage and self-
respect made him quite a dignified character. John Brown
saw at once what “stuff.” Green “was made of,” and confided
to him his plans and purposes. Green easily believed in
Brown, and promised to go with him whenever he should be
ready to move. About three weeks before the raid on Har-
per's Ferry, John Brown wrote to me, informing me that a
beginning in his work would soon be made, and that before
going forward he wanted to see me, and appointed an old
stone quarry near Chambersburg, Penn., as our place of meet-
ing. Mr. Kagi, his secretary, would be there, and they wished
me to bring any money I could command, and Shields Green
along with me. In the same letter, he said that his “mining
tools” and stores were then at Chambersburg, and that he
would be there to remove them. I obeyed the old man's sum-
mons. Taking Shields, we passed through New York city,
where we called upon Rev. James Glocester and his wife, and
told them where and for what we were going, and that our
old friend needed money. Mrs. Glocester gave me ten dollars,
and asked me to hand the same to John Brown, with her best
wishes.
When I reached Chambersburg, a good deal of surprise was
expressed (for I was instantly recognized) that I should come
there unannounced, and I was pressed to make a speech to
them, with which invitation I readily complied. Meanwhile,
I called upon Mr. Henry Watson, a simple-minded and warm-
hearted man, to whom Capt. Brown had imparted the secret

John BROWN A FISHERMAN. 323
of my visit, to show me the road to the appointed rendezvous.
Watson was very busy in his barber's shop, but he dropped all
and put me on the right track. I approached the old quarry
very cautiously, for John Brown was generally well armed,
and regarded strangers with suspicion. He was there under
the ban of the government, and heavy rewards were offered
for his arrest, for offenses said to have been committed in
Kansas. He was passing under the name of John Smith.
As I came near, he regarded me rather suspiciously, but soon
recognized me, and received me cordially. He had in his
hand when I met him, a fishing-tackle, with which he had
apparently been fishing in a stream hard by ; but I saw no
fish, and did not suppose that he cared much for his “fisher-
man's luck.” The fishing was simply a disguise, and was
certainly a good one. He looked every way like a man of the
neighborhood, and as much at home as any of the farmers
around there. His hat was old, and storm-beaten, and his
clothing was about the color of the stone quarry itself—his
then present dwelling-place.
His face wore an anxious expression, and he was much
worn by thought and exposure. I felt that I was on a dan-
gerous mission, and was as little desirous of discovery as
himself, though no reward had been offered for me.
We—Mr. Kagi, Captain Brown, Shields Green, and myself,
sat down among the rocks and talked over the enterprise
which was about to be undertaken. The taking of Harper's
Ferry, of which Captain Brown had merely hinted before,
was now declared as his settled purpose, and he wanted to
know what I thought of it. I at once opposed the measure
with all the arguments at my command. To me, such a meas-
ure would be fatal to running off slaves (as was the original
plan), and fatal to all engaged in doing so. It would be an
attack upon the federal government, and would array the
Whole country against us. Captain Brown did most of the
talking on the other side of the question. He did not at all
object to rousing the nation; it seemed to him that something
324 AUTHOR TRIES TO DISSUADE BROWN.
startling was just what the nation needed. He had com:
pletely renounced his old plan, and thought that the capture
of Harper's Ferry would serve as notice to the slaves that
their friends had come, and as a trumpet to rally them to
his standard. He described the place as to its means of
defense, and how impossible it would be to dislodge him if
once in possession. Of course I was no match for him in such
matters, but I told him, and these were my words, that all
his arguments, and all his descriptions of the place, convinced
me that he was going into a perfect steel-trap, and that once
in he would never get out alive; that he would be surrounded
at once and escape would be impossible. He was not to be
shaken by anything I could say, but treated my views respect-
fully, replying that even if surrounded he would find means for
cutting his way out; but that would not be forced upon him;
he should have a number of the best citizens of the neigl:bor-
hood as his prisoners at the start, and that holding them as
hostages, he should be able if worse came to worse, to dictate,
terms of egress from the town. I looked at him with some
astonishment, that he could rest upon a reed so weak and
broken, and told him that Virginia would blow him and his
hostages sky-high, rather than that he should hold Harper's
Ferry an hour. Our talk was long and earnest; we spent the
most of Saturday and a part of Sunday in this debate–Brown
for Harper's Ferry, and I against it; he for striking a blow
which should instantly rouse the country, and I for the policy
of gradually and unaccountably drawing off the slaves to the
mountains, as at first suggested and proposed by him. When
I found that he had fully made up his mind and could not be
dissuaded, I turned to Shields Green and told him he heard
what Captain Brown had said; his old plan was changed, and
that I should return home, and if he wished to go with me he
could do so. Captain Brown urged us both to go with him,
but I could not do so, and could but feel that he was about to
rivet the fetters more firmly than ever on the limbs of the
enslaved. In parting he put his arms around me in a manner


LEAVES HIM AT CHAMBERSBURG. 325
more than friendly, and said: “Come with me, Douglass, I
will defend you with my life. I want you for a special pur-
pose. When I strike the bees will begin to swarm, and I shall
want you to help hive them.” But my discretion or my cow-
ardice made me proof against the dear old man's eloquence-
perhaps it was something of both which determined my course.
When about to leave I asked Green what he had decided to do,
and was surprised by his coolly saying in his broken way, “I
b'leve I'll go wid de ole man.” Here we separated; they to
go to Harper's Ferry, I to Rochester. There has been some
difference of opinion as to the propriety of my course in thus
leaving my friend. Some have thought that I ought to have
gone with him, but I have no reproaches for myself at this
point, and since I have been assailed only by colored men who
kept even farther from this brave and heroic man than I
did, I shall not trouble myself much about their criticisms.
They compliment me in assuming that I should perform
greater deeds than themselves.
Such then was my connection with John Brown, and it may
be asked if this is all, why should I have objected to being
sent to Virginia to be tried for the offence charged. The
explanation is not difficult. I knew if my enemies could not
prove me guilty of the offence of being with John Brown they
could prove that I was Frederick Douglass; they could prove
that I was in correspondence and conspiracy with Brown
against slavery; they could prove that I brought Shields
Green, one of the bravest of his soldiers, all the way from
Rochester to him at Chambersburg; they could prove that I
brought money to aid him, and in what was then the state
of the public mind I could not hope to make a jury of Virginia
believe I did not go the whole length which he went, or that I
was not one of his supporters, and I knew that all Virginia,
were I once in her clutches, would say “let him be hanged.”
Before I had left Canada for England Jeremiah Anderson, one
of Brown's men, who was present and took part in the raid,
but escaped by the mountains, joined me, and he told me that
326 AUTHOR SAILS FOR EUROPE.
he and Shields Green were sent out on special duty as soon as
the capture of the arsenal, etc., was effected. Their business
was to bring in the slaves from the surrounding country, and
hence they were on the outside when Brown was surrounded.
I said to him, “Why then did not Shields come with you?”
“Well,” he said, “I told him to come ; that we could do noth-
ing more, but he simply said he must go done to de ole man.”
Anderson further told me that Captain Brown was careful to
keep his plans from his men, and that there was much oppo-
sition among them when they found what were the precise
movements determined upon ; but they were an oath-bound
company and like good soldiers were agreed to follow their
captain wherever he might lead. -
On the 12th of November, 1859, I took passage from Quebec
on board the steamer Scotia, Captain Thompson, of the Allan
line. My going to England was not at first suggested by my
connection with John Brown, but the fact that I was now in
danger of arrest on the ground of complicity with him,
made what I had intended a pleasure a necessity, for
though in Canada, and under British law, it was not impossi-
ble that I might be kidnapped and taken to Virginia.
England had given me shelter and protection when the slave-
hounds were on my track fourteen years before, and her gates
were still open to me now that I was pursued in the name of
Virginia justice. I could but feel that I was going into exile,
perhaps for life. Slavery seemed to be at the very top of its
power; the national government with all its powers and
appliances were in its hands, and it bade fair to wield them
for many years to come. Nobody could then see that in the
short space of four years this power would be broken and the
slave system destroyed. So I started on my voyage with feel-
ings far from cheerful. No one who has not himself been
compelled to leave his home and country and go into perma-
ment banishment, can well imagine the state of mind and heart
which such a condition brings. The voyage out was by the
north passage, and at this season, as usual, it was cold, dark,


CALLED to Explain THE HARPER's FERRY AFFAIR. 327
and stormy. Before quitting the coast of Labrador, we had four
degrees below zero. Although I had crossed the Atlantic
twice before, I had not experienced such unfriendly weather
as during the most of this voyage. Our great ship was dashed
about upon the surface of the sea, as though she had been
the smallest “dugout.” It seemed to tax all the seamanship
of our captain to keep her in manageable condition; but after
battling with the waves on an angry ocean during fourteen
long days, I gratefully found myself upon the soil of Great
Britian, beyond the reach of Buchanan's power and Virginia's
prisons. On reaching Liverpool, I learned that England was
nearly as much alive to what had happened at Harper's Ferry
as the United States, and I was immediately called upon in
different parts of the country to speak on the subject of slav-
ery, and especially to give some account of the men who had
thus flung away their lives in a desperate attempt to free the
slaves. My own relation to the affair was a subject of much
interest, as was the fact of my presence there being in some
sense to elude the demands of Governor Wise, who having
learned that I was not in Michigan, but was on a British
steamer bound for England, publicly declared that “could he
overtake that vessel, he would take me from her deck at any
cost.”
While in England, and wishing to visit France, I wrote to
Mr. George M. Dallas, the American minister at the British
court, to obtain a passport. The attempt upon the life of
Napoleon III about that time, and the suspicion that the con-
spiracy against him had been hatched in England, made the
French government very strict in the enforcement of its pass-
port system. I might possibly have been permitted to visit
that country without a certificate of my citizenship, but wish-
ing to leave nothing to chance, I applied to the only compe-
tent authority; but true to the traditions of the Democratic
party—true to the slaveholding policy of his country—true to
the decision of the United States supreme court, and true,
perhaps, to the petty meanness of his own nature, Mr. George
328 HE LOSES HIS DAUGHTER AND RETURNS.
M. Dallas, the Democratic American minister, refused to grant
me a passport, on the ground that I was not a citizen of the
United States. I did not beg or remonstrate with this digni-
tary further, but simply addressed a note to the French min-
ister at London, asking for a permit to visit France, and that
paper came without delay. I mention this, not to belittle the
civilization of my native country, but as a part of the story of my
life. I could have borne this denial with more serenity, could
I have foreseen what has since happened, but, under the cir-
cumstances, it was a galling disappointment. -
I had at this time been about six months out of the United
States. My time had been chiefly occupied in speaking on
slavery, and other subjects, in different parts of England and
Scotland, meeting and enjoying the while the society of many
of the kind friends whose acquaintance I had made during
my visit to those countries fourteen years before. Much of
the excitement caused by the Harper's Ferry insurrection had
subsided, both at home and abroad, and I should have now
gratified a long-cherished desire to visit France, and availed
myself, for that purpose, of the permit so promptly and civilly
given by the French minister, had not news reached me from
home of the death of my beloved daughter Annie, the light
and life of my house. Deeply distressed by this bereavement,
and acting upon the impulse of the moment, regardless of the
peril, I at once resolved to return home, and took the first
outgoing steamer for Portland, Maine. After a rough passage
of seventeen days, I reached home by way of Canada, and
remained in my house nearly a month before the knowledge
got abroad that I was again in this country. Great changes
had now taken place in the public mind touching the John
Brown raid. Virginia had satisfied her thirst for blood. She
had executed all the raiders who had fallen into her hands.
She had not given Captain Brown the benefit of a reasonable
doubt, but hurried him to the scaffold in panic-stricken haste.
She had made herself ridiculous by her fright, and despisable
by her fury. Emerson's prediction that Brown's gallows



A DRAG-NET FOR WITNESSES. 329
would become like the cross, was already being fulfilled. The
old hero, in the trial hour, had behaved so grandly that men
regarded him not as a murderer, but as a martyr. All over the
North men were singing the John Brown song. His body was
in the dust, but his soul was marching on. His defeat was
already assuming the form and pressure of victory, and his
death was giving new life and power to the principles of jus-
tice and liberty. He had spoken great words in the face of
death and the champions of slavery. He had quailed before
neither. What he had lost by the sword, he had more than
gained by the truth. Had he wavered, had he retreated or
apologized, the case had been different. He did not even ask
that the cup of death might pass from him. To his own soul
he was right, and neither “principalities nor powers, life nor
death, things present or things to come,” could shake his
dauntless spirit, or move him from his ground. He may not
have stooped on his way to the gallows to kiss a little colored
child, as it is reported he did, but the act would have been in
keeping with the tender heart, as well as with the heroic spirit
of the man. Those who looked for confession heard only the
voice of rebuke and warning.
Early after the insurrection at Harper's Ferry, an investi-
gating committee was appointed by Congress, and a “ drag
net” was spread all over the country, in the hope of incul-
pating many distinguished persons. They had imprisoned
Thaddeus Hyatt, who denied their right to interrogate him,
and had called many witnesses before them, as if the judicial
power of the nation had been conſided to their committee, and
not to the supreme court of the United States. But Captain
Brown implicated nobody. Upon his own head he invited all
the bolts of slaveholding vengeance. He said that he, and he
alone, was responsible for all that had happened. He had
many friends, but no instigators. In all their efforts, this
committee signally failed, and soon after my arrival home,
they gave up the search, and asked to be discharged, not have
ing half fulfilled the duty for which they were appointed.
330 PREPARING FOR ELECTION.
I have never been able to account satisfactorily for the
sudden abandonment of this investigation on any other ground
than that the men engaged in it expected soon to be in
rebellion themselves, and that not a rebellion for liberty like
that of John Brown, but a rebellion for slavery, and that they
saw that by using their senatorial power in search of rebels
they might be whetting a knife for their own throats. At
any rate the country was soon relieved of the congressional
drag-net and was now engaged in the heat and turmoil of a
presidential canvass—a canvass which had no parallel,
involving as it did the question of peace or war, the integrity
or the dismemberment of the Republic; and I may add, the
maintenance or destruction of slavery. In some of the south-
ern States the people were already organizing and arming to
be ready for an apprehended contest, and with this work on
their hands they had no time to spare to those they had wished
to convict as instigators of the raid, however desirous they
might have been to do so under other circumstances, for they
had parted with none of their hate. As showing their feeling
toward me I may state that a colored man appeared about this
time in Knoxville, Tenn., and was beset by a furious crowd
with knives and bludgeons, because he was supposed to be
Fred. Douglass. But, however perilous it would have been
for me to have shown myself in any southern State, there was
no especial danger for me at the North.
Though disappointed in my tour on the Continent, and
called home by one of the saddest events that can afflict the
domestic circle, my presence here was fortunate, since it
enabled me to participate in the most important and memora-
ble presidential canvass ever witnessed in the United States,
and to labor for the election of a man who in the order of
events was destined to do a greater service to his country and
to mankind, than any man who had gone before him in the
presidential office. It is something to couple one's name with
great occasions, and it was a great thing to me to be per-
mitted to bear some humble part in this, the greatest that had


THREE CANDIDATES IN THE FIELD. 331
thus far come to the American people. It was a great thing
to achieve American independence when we numbered three
millions, but it was a greater thing to save this country from
dismemberment and ruin when it numbered thirty millions.
He alone of all our Presidents was to have the opportunity to
destroy slavery, and to lift into manhood millions of his coun-
trymen hitherto held as chattels and numbered with the
beasts of the field.
The presidential canvass of 1860 was three sided, and each
side had its distinctive doctrine as to the question of slavery
and slavery extension. We had three candidates in the field.
Stephen A. Douglas was the standard bearer of what may be
called the western faction of the old divided democratic party,
and John C. Breckenridge was the standard-bearer of the
southern or slaveholding faction of that party. Abraham Lin-
coln represented the then young, growing, and united republi-
can party. The lines between these parties and candidates
were about as distinctly and clearly drawn as political lines
are capable of being drawn. The name of Douglas stood for
territorial sovereignty, or in other words, for the right of the
people of a territory to admit or exclude, to establish or abolish,
slavery, as to them might seem best. The doctrine of Brecken-
ridge was that slaveholders were entitled to carry their slaves
into any territory of the United States and to hold them there,
with or without the consent of the people of the territory; that
the Constitution of its own force carried slavery and protected
it into any territory open for settlement in the United States.
To both these parties, factions, and doctrines, Abraham Lin-
coln and the republican party stood opposed. They held that
the Federal Government had the right and the power to
exclude slavery from the territories of the United States, and
that that right and power ought to be exercised to the extent
of confining slavery inside the slave States, with a view
to its ultimate extinction. The position of Mr. Douglas gave
him a splendid pretext for the display of a species of oratory of
which he was a distinguished master. He alone of the three
332 SQUATTER SOVEREIGNTY.
candidates took the stump, as the preacher of popular sover-
eignty, called in derision at the time “Squatter” Sovereignty.
This doctrine, if not the times, gave him a chance to play fast
and loose, and blow hot and cold, as occasion might require.
In the South and among slaveholders he could say, “My great
principle of popular sovereignty does not and was not intended
by me to prevent the extension of slavery; on the contrary it
gives you the right to take your slaves into the territories and
secure legislation legalizing slavery; it denies to the Federal
Government all right of interference against you, and hence is
eminently favorable to your interests.” When among people
known to be indifferent he could say, “I do not care whether
slavery is voted up or voted down in the territory,” but when
addressing the known opponents of the extension of slavery,
he could say that the people of the territories were in no
danger of having slavery forced upon them since they could
keep it out by adverse legislation. Had he made these repre-
sentations before railroads, electric wires, phonography, and
newspapers had become the powerful auxiliaries they have
done Mr. Douglas might have gained many votes, but they
were of little avail now. The South was too sagacious to
leave slavery to the chance of defeat in a fair vote by the
people of a territory. Of all property none could less afford
to take such a risk, for no property can require more strongly
favoring conditions for its existence. Not only the intelli-
gence of the slave, but the instincts of humanity, must be
barred by positive law, hence Breckenridge and his friends
erected the flinty walls of the Constitution and the Supreme
Court for the protection of slavery at the outset. Against both
Douglas and Breckenridge Abraham Lincoln proposed his
grand historic doctrine of the power and duty of the National
Government to prevent the spread and perpetuity of slavery.
Into this contest I threw myself, with firmer faith and more
ardent hope than ever before, and what I could do by pen
or voice was done with a will. The most remarkable and
memorable feature of this canvass, was that it was prosecuted


INTIMIDATION BY THE SOUTH. 333
under the portentous shadow of a threat: leading public men
of the South had with the vehemence of fiery purpose, given
it out in advance that in case of their failure to elect their
candidate (Mr. John C. Breckenridge) they would proceed
to take the slaveholding States out of the Union, and that in
no event whatever would they submit to the rule of Abraham
Lincoln. To many of the peace-loving friends of the Union,
this was a fearful announcement, and it doubtless cost the
Republican candidates many votes. To many others, how-
ever, it was deemed a mere bravado–sound and fury signify-
ing nothing. With a third class its effect was very different.
They were tired of the rule-or-ruin intimidation adopted by
the South, and felt then, if never before, that they had quailed
before it too often and too long. It came as an insult and a
challenge in one, and imperatively called upon them for inde-
pendence, self-assertion, and resentment. Had Southern
men puzzled their brains to find the most effective means to
array against slavery and slaveholding manners the solid
opposition of the North, they could not have hit upon any
expedient better suited to that end, than was this threat. It
was not only unfair, but insolent, and more like an address.to
cowardly slaves than to independent freemen; it had in it the
meanness of the horse-jockey, who, on entering a race, pro-
poses, if beaten, to run off with the stakes. In all my
speeches made during this canvass, I did not fail to take
advantage of this southern bluster and bullying.
As I have said, this southern threat lost many votes, but
it gained more than would cover the lost. It frightened the
timid, but stimulated the brave; and the result was—the tri-
umphant election of Abraham Lincoln.
Then came the question, what will the South do about it 2
Will she eat her bold words, and submit to the verdict of the
people, or proceed to the execution of the programme she
had marked out for herself prior to the election? The
inquiry was an anxions one, and the blood of the North stood
still, waiting for the response. It had not to wait long, for
334 BUCHANAN AND HIS CABINET.
the trumpet of war was soon sounded, and the tramp of armed
men was heard in that region. During all the winter of 1860
notes of preparation for a tremendous conflict came to us
from that quarter on every wind. Still the warning was not
taken. Few of the North could really believe that this inso-
lent display of arms would end in anything more substantial
than dust and smoke.
The shameful and shocking course of President Buchanan
and his Cabinet towards this rising rebellion against the gov-
ernment which each and all of them had solemnly sworn to
“support, defend, and maintain "--that the treasury was
emptied, that the army was scattered, that our ships of war
were sent out of the way, that our forts and arsenals in the
South were weakened and crippled,—purposely left an easy
prey to the prospective insurgents, that one after another
the States were allowed to secede, that these rebel measures
were largely encouraged by the doctrine of Mr. Buchanan, that
he found no power in the constitution to coerce a State, are
all matters of history, and need only the briefest mention
here.
To arrest this tide of secession and revolution, which was
sweeping over the South, the southern papers, which still
had some dread of the consequences likely to ensue from the
course marked out before the election, proposed as a means for
promoting conciliation and satisfaction, that “each northern
State, through her legislature, or in convention assembled,
should repeal all laws passed for the injury of the constitu-
tional rights of the South (meaning thereby all laws passed
for the protection of personal liberty); that they should pass
laws for the easy and prompt execution of the fugitive slave
law; that they should pass other laws imposing penalties on
all malefactors who should hereafter assist or encourage the
escape of fugitive slaves; also, laws declaring and protecting
the right of slaveholders to travel and sojourn in Northern
States, accompanied by their slaves; also, that they should
instruct their representatives and senators in Congress to


COMPROMISE THE ORDER OF THE DAY. 335
repeal the law prohibiting the sale of slaves in the District of
Columbia, and pass laws sufficient for the full protection of
slave property in the Territories of the Union.”
It may indeed be well regretted that there was a class of
men in the North willing to patch up a peace with this ram-
pant spirit of disunion by compliance with these offensive,
scandalous, and humiliating terms, and to do so without any
guarantee that the South would then be pacified; rather with
the certainty, learned by past experience, that it would by no
means promote this end. I confess to a feeling allied to sat-
isfaction at the prospect of a conflict between the North and
the South. Standing outside the pale of American humanity,
denied citizenship, unable to call the land of my birth my
country, and adjudged by the supreme court of the United
States to have no rights which white men were bound to
respect, and longing for the end of the bondage of my people,
I was ready for any political upheaval which should bring
about a change in the existing condition of things. Whether
the war of words would or would not end in blows was for a
time a matter of doubt; and when it became certain that the
South was wholly in earnest, and meant at all hazards to exe-
cute its threats of disruption, a visible change in the senti-
ment of the North was apparent.
The reaction from the glorious assertion of freedom and
independence on the part of the North in the triumphant
election of Abraham Lincoln, was a painful and humiliating
development of its weakness. It seemed as if all that had
been gained in the canvass was about to be surrendered to the
vanquished: that the South, though beaten at the polls, were
to be victorious and have everything its own way in the final
result. During all the intervening months, from November to
the ensuing March, the drift of northern sentiment was
towards compromise. To smooth the way for this, most of the
northern legislatures repealed their personal liberty bills, as
they were supposed to embarrass the surrender of fugitive
slaves to their claimants. The feeling everywhere seemed to
15*

336 EXCITEMENT IN BOSTON.
be that something must be done to convince the South that
the election of Mr. Lincoln meant no harm to slavery or the
slave power, and that the North was sound on the question of
the right of the master to hold and hunt his slave as long as
he pleased, and that even the right to hold slaves in the Ter-
ritories should be submitted to the supreme court, which would
probably decide in favor of the most extravagant demands of
the slave States. The northern press took on a more conser-
vative tone towards the slavery propagandists, and a corre-
sponding tone of bitterness towards anti-slavery men and
measures. It came to be a no uncommon thing to hear men
denouncing South Carolina and Massachusetts in the same
breath, and in the same measure of disproval. The old pro-
slavery spirit which, in 1835, mobbed anti-slavery prayer-
meetings, and dragged William Lloyd Garrison through the
streets of Boston with a halter about his neck, was revived.
From Massachusetts to Missouri, anti-slavery meetings were
ruthlessly assailed and broken up. With others, I was roughly
handled by a mob in Tremont Temple, Boston, headed by one
of the wealthiest men of that city. The talk was that the
blood of some abolitionist must be shed to appease the wrath
of the offended South, and to restore peaceful relations be-
tween the two sections of the country. A howling mob fol-
lowed Wendell Phillips for three days whenever he appeared
on the pavements of his native city, because of his ability and
prominence in the propagation of anti-slavery opinions.
While this humiliating reaction was going on at the North,
various devices were suggested and pressed at Washington,
to bring about peace and reconciliation. Committees were
appointed to listen to southern grievances, and, if possible,
devise means of redress for such as might be alleged. Some
of these peace propositions would have been shocking to the
last degree to the moral sense of the North, had not fear for
the safety of the Union overwhelmed all moral conviction.
Such men as William H. Seward, Charles Francis Adams,
Henry B. Anthony, Joshua R. Giddings, and others—men
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THE SOUTH WAS MAD. 337
whose courage had been equal to all other emergencies—bent
before this southern storm, and were ready to purchase peace
at any price. Those who had stimulated the courage of the
North before the election, and had shouted “Who’s afraid 7"
were now shaking in their shoes with apprehension and dread.
One was for passing laws in the northern States for the better
protection of slave hunters, and for the greater efficiency of
the fugitive slave bill. Another was for enacting laws to
punish the invasion of the slave States, and others were for
so altering the constitution of the United States that the
federal government should never abolish slavery while any
one State should object to such a measure.* Everything that
could be demanded by insatiable pride and selfishness on the
part of the slaveholding South, or could be surrendered by
abject fear and servility on the part of the North, had able
and eloquent advocates. -
Happily for the cause of human freedom, and for the final
unity of the American nation, the South was mad, and would
listen to no concessions. They would neither accept the terms
offered, nor offer others to be accepted. They had made up
their minds that under a given contingency they would secede
from the Union and thus dismember the Republic. That con-
tingency had happened, and they should execute their threat.
Mr. Ireson of Georgia, expressed the ruling sentiment of his
section when he told the northern peacemakers that if the
people of the South were given a blank sheet of paper upon
which to write their own terms on which they would remain
in the Union, they would not stay. They had come to hate
everything which had the prefix “Free”—free soil, free
states, free territories, free schools, free speech, and freedom
generally, and they would have no more such prefixes. This
haughty and unreasonable and unreasoning attitude of the
imperious South saved the slave and saved the nation. Had
the South accepted our concessions and remained in the Union
* See History of American Conflict, Vol. II, by Horace Greeley.

338 HATED THE NAME OF FREEDOM.
the slave power would in all probability have continued to
rule; the north would have become utterly demoralized ; the
hands on the dial-plate of American civilization would have
been reversed, and the slave would have been dragging his
hateful chains to-day wherever the American flag floats to the
breeze. Those who may wish to see to what depths of
humility and self-abasement a noble people can be brought
under the sentiment of fear, will find no chapter of history more
instructive than that which treats of the events in official
circles in Washington during the space between the months
of November, 1859, and March, 1860.

CHAPTER XI.
SECESSION AND WAR.
Recruiting of the 54th and 55th Colored Regiments—Visit to President
Lincoln and Secretary Stanton–Promised a Commission as Adjutant
General to General Thomas—Disappointment.
HE cowardly and disgraceful reaction, from a courageous
and manly assertion of right principles, as described in
the foregoing pages, continued surprisingly long after seces-
sion and war were commenced. The patience and forbear-
ance of the loyal people of the North were amazing. Speak-
ing of this feature of the situation in Corinthian Hall, Roches-
ter, at the time, I said:
“We (the people of the North) are a charitable people, and in the excess
of this feeling we were disposed to put the very best construction upon the
strange behavior of our southern brethren. We hoped that all would yet
go well. We thought that South Carolina might secede; it was entirely like
her to do so. She had talked extravagantly about going out of the Union,
and it was natural that she should do something extravagant and startling if
for nothing else, to save a show of consistency. Georgia too, we thought might
possibly secede. But strangely enough we thought and felt quite sure that
these twin rebellious States would stand alone and unsupported in their
infamy and their impotency; that they would soon tire of their isolation,
repent of their folly and come back to their places in the Union. Traitors
withdrew from the Cabinet, from the House of Representatives, and from
the Senate, and hastened to their several States to fire the southern heart,”
and to fan the hot flames of treason at home. Still we doubted if anything
serious would come of it. We treated it as a bubble on the wave—a nine
days' wonder. Calm and thoughtful men ourselves, we relied upon the
sober second thought of the southern people. Even the capture of a fort, a
shot at one of our ships—an insult to the national flag—caused only a
momentary feeling of indignation and resentment. We could not but
believe that there existed at the South a latent and powerful Union senti-
ment which would assert itself at last. Though loyal soldiers had been fired
upon in the streets of Baltimore; though loyal blood had stained the pave-
ments of that beautiful city, and the national government was warned to
send no troops through Baltimore to the defense of the National Capital, we
(339)
340 AUTHOR'S SPEECH IN ROCHESTER.
could not be made to believe that the border States would plunge madly
into the bloody vortex of rebellion.
“But this confidence, patience, and forbearance could not last forever.
These blissful illusions of hope were in a measure dispelled when the bat.
teries of Charleston harbor were opened upon the starving garrison at Fort
Sumpter. For the moment the northern lamb was transformed into a lion,
and his roar was terrible. But he only showed his teeth, and clearly had no
wish to use them. We preferred to fight with dollars and not daggers.
‘The fewer battles the better,’ was the hopeful motto at Washington.
“Peace in sixty days,’ was held out by the astute Secretary of State. In
fact, there was at the North no disposition to fight : no spirit of hate ; no
comprehension of the stupendous character and dimensions of the rebellion,
and no proper appreciation of its inherent wickedness. Treason had shot -
its poisonous roots deeper, and had spread its death-dealing branches further
than any northern calculation had covered. Thus while rebels were waging
a barbarous war, marshaling savage Indians to join them in the slaughter;
while rifled cannon balls were battering down the walls of our forts, and the
iron-clad hand of monarchical power was being invoked to assist in the
destruction of our government and the dismemberment of our country;
while a tremendous rebel ram was sinking our fleet and threatening the
cities of our coast, we were still dreaming of peace. This infatuation, this
blindness to the significance of passing events, can only be accounted for by
the rapid passage of these events, and by the fact of the habitual leniency
and good-will cherished by the North towards the South. Our very lack of
preparation for the conflict disposed us to look for some other than the way of
blood out of the difficulty. Treason had largely infected both army and navy.
Floyd had scattered our arms. Cobb had depleted our treasury, and Buchanan
had poisoned the political thought of the times by his doctrines of anti-coer-
cion. It was in such a condition of things as this that Abraham Lincoln (com-
pelled from fear of assassination to enter the capital in disguise) was inaugura-
ted and issued his proclamation for the repossession of the forts, places, and
property which had been seized from the Union,’ and his call upon the militia
of the several States to the number of 75,000 men—a paper which showed how
little even he comprehended the work then before the loyal nation. It was
perhaps better for the country and for mankind that the good man could
not know the end from the beginning. Had he foreseen the thousands who
must sink into bloody graves; the mountains of debt to be laid on the breast
of the nation; the terrible hardships and sufferings involved in the contest;
and his own death by an assassin's hand, he too might have adopted the
weak sentiment of those who said 'erring sisters depart in peace.”
From the first, I, for one, saw in this war the end of slav-
ery; and truth requires me to say that my interest in the
success of the North was largely due to this belief. True it
is that this faith was many times shaken by passing events,


HIS VIEW OF THE SITUATION. 341
but never destroyed. When Secretary Seward instructed our
ministers to say to the governments to which they were
accredited, that, “terminate however it might, the status of
no class of the people of the United States would be changed
by the rebellion—that the slaves would be slaves still, and
that the masters would be masters still”—when General
McClellan and General Butler warned the slaves in advance
that if any attempt was made by them to gain their freedom,
it would be suppressed with an iron hand”—when the gov-
ernment persistently refused to employ colored troops—when
the emancipation proclamation of General John C. Freemont
in Missouri was withdrawn—when slaves were being returned
from our lines to their masters—when Union soldiers were
stationed about the farm houses of Virginia to guard and
protect the master in holding his slaves—when Union sol-
diers made themselves more active in kicking colored men out
of their camps than in shooting rebels—when even Mr. Lin-
coln could tell the poor negro that “he was the cause of the
war,” I still believed, and spoke as I believed, all over the
North, that the mission of the war was the liberation of the
slave, as well as the salvation of the Union; and hence from
the first I reproached the North that they fought the rebels
with only one hand, when they might strike effectually with
two—that they fought with their soft white hand while they
kept their black iron hand chained and helpless behind them
—that they fought the effect while they protected the cause,
and that the Union cause would never prosper till the war
assumed an anti-slavery attitude, and the negro was enlisted
on the loyal side. In every way possible, in the columns of
my paper and on the platform, by letters to friends, at home
and abroad, I did all that I could to impress this conviction
upon this country. But nations seldom listen to advice from
individuals, however reasonable. They are taught less by
theories than by facts and events. There was much that
could be said against making the war an abolition war much
that seemed wise and patriotic. “Make the war an abolition
342 THE ADMINISTRATION BLIND.
war,” we were told, “and you drive the border States into the
rebellion, and thus add power to the enemy, and increase the
number you will have to meet on the battle-field. You will
exasperate and intensify southern feeling, making it more
desperate, and put far away the day of peace between the two
sections.” “Employ the arm of the negro, and the loyal men
of the North will throw down their arms and go home.”
“This is the white man's country, and the white man's war.”
“It would inflict an intolerable wound upon the pride and
spirit of white soldiers of the Union, to see the negro in the
United States uniform. Besides, if you make the negro a
soldier, you cannot depend on his courage: a crack of his old
master’s whip would send him scampering in terror from the
field.” And so it was that custom, pride, prejudice, and the
old-time respect for southern feeling, held back the govern-
ment from an anti-slavery policy, and from arming the negro.
Meanwhile the rebellion availed itself of the negro most
effectively. He was not only the stomach of the rebellion,
by supplying its commissary department, but he built its forts,
and dug its intrenchments, and performed other duties of its
camp, which left the rebel soldier more free to fight the loyal
army than he could otherwise have been. It was the cotton
and corn of the negro that made the rebellion sack stand on
end, and caused a continuance of the war. “Destroy these,”
was the burden of all my utterances during this part of the
struggle, “and you cripple and destroy the rebellion.” It is
surprising how long and bitterly the government resisted and
rejected this view of the situation. The abolition heart of the
North ached over the delay, and uttered its bitter complaints,
but the administration remained blind and dumb. Bull Run,
Ball's Bluff, Big Bethel, Fredericksburg, and the Peninsula
disasters were the only teachers whose authority was of suffi-
cient importance to excite the attention or respect of our
rulers, and they were even slow in being taught by these. An
important point was gained, however, when General B. F.
Butler, at Fortress Monroe, announced the policy of treating


THEY GOT LIGHT. 343
the slaves as “contrabands,” to be made useful to the Union
cause, and was sustained therein at Washington, and senti-
ments of a similar nature were expressed on the floor of Con-
gress by Hon. A. G. Riddle of Ohio. A grand accession was
made to this view of the case when Hon. Simon Cameron,
then secretary of war, gave it his earnest support, and General
David Hunter put the measure into practical operation in
South Carolina. General Phelps from Vermont, in command
at Carrollton, La., also advocated the same plan though under
discouragements which cost him his command. And many
and grievous disasters on flood and field were needed to edu-
cate the loyal nation and President Lincoln up to the realiza-
tion of the necessity, not to say justice, of this position, and
many devices, intermediate steps, and make-shifts were sug-
gested to smooth the way to the ultimate policy of freeing the
slave, and arming the freedmen.
When at last the truth began to dawn upon the administra-
tion that the negro might be made useful to loyalty, as well
as to treason, to the Union as well as to the Confederacy, it
then considered in what way it could employ him, which would
in the least shock and offend the popular prejudice against
him. He was already in the army as a waiter, and in that
capacity there was no objection to him, and so it was thought
that as this was the case, the feeling which tolerated him as a
waiter would not seriously object if he should be admitted to the
army as a laborer, especially as no one under a southern sun
cared to have a monopoly of digging and toiling in trenches.
This was the first step in employing negroes in the United
States service. The second step was to give them a peculiar
costume which should distinguish them from soldiers, and yet
mark them as a part of the loyal force. As the eyes of the
loyal administration still further opened, it was proposed to
gº these laborers something better than spades and shovels
with which to defend themselves in cases of emergency. Still
later it was propºsed to make them soldiers, but soldiers wiſh-
out the blue uniform. Soldiers with a mark upon them to
344 APPEAL TO COLORED MEN.
show that they were inferior to other soldiers; soldiers with a
badge of degradation upon them. However, once in the army
as a laborer, once there with a red shirt on his back and a
pistol in his belt, the negro was not long in appearing on the
field as a soldier. But still he was not to be a soldier in the
sense, and on an equal footing, with white soldiers. It was
given out that he was not to be employed in the open field
with white troops, under the inspiration of doing battle and
winning victories for the Union cause, and in the face and
teeth of his old masters, but that he should be made to garri-
son forts in yellow fever and otherwise unhealthy localities of
the South, to save the health of white soldiers, and in order to
keep up the distinction further the black soldiers were to have
only half the wages of the white soldiers, and were to be com-
manded entirely by white commissioned officers. While of
course I was deeply pained and saddened by the estimate thus
put upon my race, and grieved at the slowness of heart which
Smarked the conduct of the loyal government, I was not dis-
couraged, and urged every man who could to enlist; to get an
eagle on his button, a musket on his shoulder, and the star-
spangled banner over his head. Hence, as soon as Governor
Andrew of Massachusetts received permission from Mr. Lin-
coln to raise two colored regiments, the 54th and 55th, I made
the following address to the colored citizens of the North
through my paper, then being published in Rochester, which
was copied in the leading journals:
“MEN OF COLOR, TO ARMS.
“When first the rebel cannon shattered the walls of Sumpter and drove
away its starving garrison, I predicted that the war then and there inaug-
urated would not be fought out entirely by white men. Every month's
experience during these dreary years has confirmed that opinion. A war
undertaken and brazenly carried on for the perpetual enslavement of colored
men, calls logically and loudly for colored men to help suppress it. Only a
moderate share of sagacity was needed to see that the arm of the slave was the
best defense against the arm of the slaveholder. Hence with every reverseto
the national arms, with every exulting shout of victory raised by the slavehold-
ing rebels, I have implored the imperiled nation to unchain against her foes,
her powerful black hand, Slowly and reluctantly that appeal is beginning to


BETTER EvºN TO DIE FREE THAN TO LIVE SLAVES. 345
be heeded Stop not now to complain that it was not heeded sooner. It
may or it may not have been best that it should not. This is not the time
to discuss that question. Leave it to the future. When the war is over,
the country is saved, peace is established, and the black man's rights are
secured, as they will be, history with an impartial hand will dispose of that
and sundry other questions. Action Actionſ not criticism, is the plain
duty of this hour. Words are now useful only as they stimulate to blows.
The office of speech now is only to point out when, where, and how to
strike to the best advantage. There is no time to delay. The tide is at its
flood that leads on to fortune. From East to West, from North to South,
the sky is written all over, ‘Now or NEVER." Liberty won by white men
would lose half its luster. “Who would be free themselves must strike the
blow. Better even die free, than to live slaves.’ This is the sentiment of
every brave colored man amongst us. There are weak and cowardly men
in all nations. We have them amongst us. They tell you this is the
white man's war'; that you will be no ‘better off after than before the
war'; that the getting of you into the army is to 'sacrifice you on the first
opportunity.’ Believe them not; cowards themselves, they do not wish to
have their cowardice shamed by your brave example. Leave them to their
timidity, or to whatever motive may hold them back. I have not thought
lightly of the words I am now addressing you. The counsel I give comes of
close observation of the great struggle now in progress, and of the deep
conviction that this is your hour and mine. In good earnest then, and after
the best deliberation, I now for the first time during this war, feel at liberty
to call and counsel you to arms. By every consideration which binds you
to your enslaved fellow-countrymen, and the peace and welfare of your
country; by every aspiration which you cherish for the freedom and equality
of yourselves and your children; by all the ties of blood and identity which
make us one with the brave black men now fighting our battles in Louisi-
ana and in South Carolina, I urge you to fly to arms, and smite with death
the power that would bury the government and your liberty in the same
hopeless grave. I wish I could tell you that the State of New York calls
you to this high honor. For the moment her constituted authorities are
silent on the subject. They will speak by and by, and doubtless on the
right side; but we are not compelled to wait for her. We can get at the
throat of treason and slavery through the State of Massachusetts. She was
first in the War of Independence; first to break the chains of her slaves;
first to make the black man equal before the law; first to admit colored
children to her common schools, and she was first to answer with her
blood the alarm cy. of the nation, when its capital was menanced by rebels.
You know her patriotic governor, and you know Charles Sumner. I need
not add more.
Massachusetts now welcomes you to arms as soldiers. She has but a
small colored population from which to recruit. She has full leave of the
general government to send one regiment to the war, and she has under.
346 GOVERNOR JOHN A. ANDREW.
taken to do it. Go quickly and help fill up the first colored regiment from
the North. I am authorized to assure you that you will receive the same
wages, the same rations, the same equipments, the same protection, the same
treatment, and the same bounty, secured to white soldiers. You will be
led by able and skillful officers, men who will take especial pride in your
efficiency and success. They will be quick to accord to you all the honor
you shall merit by your valor, and see that your rights and feelings are
respected by other soldiers. I have assured myself on these points, and can
speak with authority. More than twenty years of unswerving devotion to
our common cause may give me some humble claim to be trusted at this
momentous crisis. I will not argue. To do so implies hesitation and doubt,
and you do not hesitate. You do not doubt. The day dawns; the moºn.
ing star is bright upon the horizon! The iron gate of our prison stands
half open. One gallant rush from the North will fling it wide open, while
four millions of our brothers and sisters shall march out into liberty. The
chance is now given you to end in a day the bondage of centuries, and to
rise in one bound from social degradation to the plane of common equality
with all other varieties of men. Remember Denmark Vesey of Charleston
remember Nathaniel Turner of South Hampton; remember Shields Green
and Copeland, who followed noble John Brown, and fell as glorious mar-
tyrs for the cause of the slave. Remember that in a contest with oppres.
sion, the Almighty has no attribute which can take sides with oppressors,
The case is before you. This is our golden opportunity. Let us accept it,
and forever wipe out the dark reproaches unsparingly hurled against us by
our enemies. Let us win for ourselves the gratitude of our country, and
the best blessings of our posterity through all time. The nucleus of this
first regiment is now in camp at Readville, a short distance from Boston J
will undertake to forward to Boston all persons adjudged fit to be mustered
into the regiment, who shall apply to me at any time within the next two
weeks. .
“Roch ESTER, March 2, 1863.”
Immediately after authority had been given by President
Lincoln to Governor John A. Andrew of Massachusetts to
raise and equip two regiments of colored men for the war, I
received a letter from George L. Stearns of Boston, a noble
worker for freedom in Kansas, and a warm friend of John
Brown, earnestly entreating me to assist in raising the required
number of men. It was presumed that by my labors in the
anti-slavery cause, I had gained some influence with the col-
ored men of the country, and that they would listen to me in
this emergency; which supposition, I am happy to say, was
supported by the results. There were fewer colored people in


54TH AND 55TH REGIMENTS, 347
Massachusetts then than now, and it was necessary in order
to make up the full quota of these regiments, to recruit for
them in other northern States. The nominal conditions upon
which colored men were asked to enlist, were not satisfactory
to me or them; but assurances from Governor Andrew that
they would in the end be made just and equal, together with
my faith in the logic of events, and my conviction that the
wise thing to do was for the colored man to get into the army
by any door open to him, no matter how narrow, made me
accept with alacrity the work to which I was invited. The
raising of these two regiments—the 54th and 55th–and their
splendid behavior in South and North Carolina was the begin-
ning of great things for the colored people of the whole coun-
try; and not the least satisfaction I now have in contemplat-
ing my humble part in raising them, is the fact that my two
sons, Charles and Lewis, were the two first in the State of
New York to enlist in them. The 54th was not long in the
field before it proved itself gallant and strong, worthy to rank
with the most courageous of its white companions in arms.
Its assault upon Fort Wagner, in which it was so fearfully
cut to pieces, and lost nearly half its officers, including its
beloved and trusted commander, Col. Shaw, at once gave it a
name and a fame throughout the country. In that terrible
battle, under the wing of night, more cavils in respect of the
quality of negro manhood were set at rest than could have
been during a century of ordinary life and observation. After
that assault we heard no more of sending negroes to garrison
forts and arsenals, to fight miasma, yellow fever, and small-pox.
Talk of his ability to meet the foe in the open field, and of
his equal fitness with the white man to stop a bullet, then
began to prevail. From this time (and the fact ought to be
remembered) the colored troops were called upon to Occupy
positions which required the courage, steadiness, and endur-
ance of veterans, and even their enemies were obliged to
admit that they proved themselves worthy the conſidence
reposed in them. After the 54th and 55th Massachusetts
348 THE ACTION OF THE GovIDRNMENT UNSATISFACTORY.
colored regiments were placed in the field, and one of them
had distinguished itself with so much credit in the hour of
trial, the desire to send more such troops to the front became
pretty general. Pennsylvania proposed to raise ten regiments.
I was again called by my friend Mr. Stearns to assist in hising
these regiments, and I set about the work with full purpose of
heart, using every argument of which I was capable, to per-
suade every colored man able to bear arms to rally around the
flag, and help to save the country and save the race. It was
during this time that the attitude of the government at Wash-
ington caused me deep sadness and discouragement, and
forced me in a measure to suspend my efforts in that direc-
tion. I had assured colored men that once in the Union army
they would be put upon an equal footing with other soldiers;
that they would be paid, promoted, and exchanged as prisoners
of war, Jeff. Davis' threat they would be treated as felons
to the contrary notwithstanding. But thus far, the govern-
ment had not kept its promise, or the promise made it.
The following letter which I find published in my paper of the
same date will show the course I felt it my duty to take under
the circumstances: -
“Roch ESTER, August 1st, 1863.
“MAjor GForgº L. STEARNs:
“My Dear Sør-Having declined to attend the meeting to promote enlist-
ments, appointed for me at Pittsburgh, in present circumstances, I owe you
a word of explanation. I have hitherto deemed it a duty, as it certainly has
been a pleasure, to coöperate with you in the work of raising colored troops
in the free States to fight the battles of the Republic against slaveholding
rebels and traitors. Upon the first call you gave me to this work I responded
with alacrity. I saw, or thought I saw a ray of light, brightening the future
of my whole race as well as that of our war-troubled country, in arousing
colored men to fight for the nation’s life. I continue to believe in the black
man's arm, and still have some hope in the integrity of our rulers. Never-
theless I must for the present leave to others the work of persuading col-
ored men to join the Union army. I owe it to my long-abused people, and
especially to those already in the army, to expose their wrongs and plead
their cause. I cannot do that in connection with recruiting. When I plead
for recruits I want to do it with all my heart, without qualification. I can:
not do that now. The impression settles upon me that colored men have
much over-rated the enlightenment, justice, and generosity of our rulers at



INEQUALITY AMONG SOLDIERS. 349
Washington. In my humble way I have contributed somewhat to that
false estimate. You know that when the idea of raising colored troops was
first suggested, the special duty to be assigned them, was the garrisoning of
forts and arsenals in certain warm, unhealthy, and miasmatic localities in
the South. They were thought to be better adapted to that service than
white troops. White troops trained to war, brave, and daring, were to take
fortifications, and the blacks were to hold them from falling again into the
hands of the rebels. Three advantages were to arise out of this wise divis-
ion of labor: 1st, the spirit and pride of white troops was not to waste itself
in dull monotonous inactivity in fort life; their arms were to be kept
bright by constant use. 2d. The health of white troops was to be preserved.
3d, Black troops were to have the advantage of sound military training and
to be otherwise useful, at the same time that they should be tolerably secure
from capture by the rebels, who early avowed their determination to enslave
and slaughter them in defiance of the laws of war. Two out of the three
advantages were to accrue to the white troops. Thus far, however, I
believe that no such duty as holding fortifications has been committed to
colored troops. They have done far other and more important work than
holding fortifications. I have no special complaint to make at this point,
and I simply mention it to strengthen the statement, that from the begin-
ning of this business it was the confident belief among both the colored and
white friends of colored enlistments that President Lincoln as commander-
in-chief of the army and navy, would certainly see to it that his colored
troops should be so handled and disposed of as to be but little exposed to cap-
ture by the rebels, and that, if so exposed, as they have repeatedly been from
the first, the President possessed both the disposition and the means for
compelling the rebels to respect the rights of such as might fall into their
hands. The piratical proclamation of Jefferson Davis, announcing slavery
and assassination to colored prisoners was before the country and the world.
But men had faith in Mr. Lincoln and his advisers. He was silent to be
sure, but charity suggested that being a man of action rather than words
he only waited for a case in which he should be required to act.
This faith in the man enabled us to speak with warmth and effect in
urging enlistments among colored men. That faith, my dear sir,
is now nearly gone. Various occasions have arisen during the last
six months for the exercise of his power in behalf of the colored men
in his service. But no word comes to us from the war department, sternly
assuring the rebel chief that inquisition shall yet be made for innocent blood.
No word of retaliation when a black man is slain by a rebel in cold blood.
No word was said when free men from Massachusetts were caught and sold
into slavery in Texas. No word is said when brave black men who, accord.
ing to the testimony of both friend and foe, fought like heroes to plant the
star-Spangled banner on the blazing parapets of Fort Wagner, and in doing
So were captured, some mutilated and killed, and others sold into slavery.
The same crushing silence reigns over this scandalous outrage as over that
350 COLORED SOLDIERS SOLD INTO SLAVERY.
of the slaughtered teamsters at Murfreesboro; the same as over that at
Milliken's Bend and Vicksburg. I am free to say, my dear sir, that the case
looks as if the confiding colored soldiers had been betrayed into bloody
hands by the very government in whose defence they were heroically fight.
ing. I know what you will say to this; you will say “wait a little longer,
and after all the best way to have justice done to your people is to get them
into the army as fast as you can.’ You may be right in this; my argument
has been the same, but have we not already waited, and have we not already
shown the highest qualities of soldiers, and on this account deserve the pro-
tection of the government for which we are fighting? Can any case stronger
than that before Charleston ever arise! If the President is ever to demand
justice and humanity, for black soldiers, is not this the time for him to do it?
How many 54th's must be cut to pieces, its mutilated prisoners killed, and
its living sold into slavery, to be tortured to death by inches, before Mr. Lin-
coln shall say, ‘Hold, enough!'
You know the 54th. To you, more than to any one man belongs the
credit of raising that regiment. Think of its noble and brave officers liter-
ally hacked to pieces, while many of its rank and file have been sold into
slavery worse than death, and pardon me, if I hesitate about assisting in
raising a fourth regiment until the President shall give the same protection
to them as to white soldiers. -
With warm and sincere regards,
FREDERICK Doug LAs.”
“Since writing the foregoing letter, which we have now put upon record,
we have received assurances from Major Stearns that the government of the
United States is already taking measures which will secure the captured
colored soldiers at Charleston and elsewhere the same protection against
slavery and cruelty extended to white soldiers. What ought to have been
done at the beginning, comes late, but it comes. The poor colored soldiers
have purchased interference dearly. It really seems that nothing of justice,
liberty, or humanity can come to us except through tears and blood.”
THE BLACK MAN AT THE WHITE HOUSE.
My efforts to secure just and fair treatment for the colored
soldiers did not stop at letters and speeches. At the sugges-
tion of my friend, Major Stearns, to whom the foregoing let-
ter was addressed, I was induced to go to Washington and
lay the complaints of my people before President Lincoln and
the secretary of war; and to urge upon them such action as
should secure to the colored troops then fighting for the
country, a reasonable degree of fair play. I need not say that
at the time I undertook this mission it required much more
nerve than a similar one would require now. The distance




INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 351
then between the black man and the white American citizen,
was immeasurable. I was an ex-slave, identified with a
despised race; and yet I was to meet the most exalted person -
in this great republic. It was altogether an unwelcome duty,
and one from which I would gladly have been excused. I
could not know what kind of a reception would be accorded
me. I might be told to go home and mind my business, and
leave such questions as I had come to discuss to be managed
by the men wisely chosen by the American people to deal
with them. Or I might be refused an interview altogether.
Nevetheless, I felt bound to go; and my acquaintance with
Senators Charles Sumner, Henry Wilson, Samuel Pomeroy,
Secretary Salmon P. Chase, Secretary William H. Seward, and
Assistant Secretary of War Charles A. Dana, encouraged me
to hope at least for a civil reception. My conſidence was fully
justified in the result. I shall never forget my first interview
with this great man. I was accompanied to the executive
ruansion and introduced to President Lincoln by Senator Pom-
eroy. The room in which he received visitors was the one
now used by the president’s secretaries. I entered it with a
moderate estimate of my own consequence, and yet there I
was to talk with, and even to advise, the head man of a great
nation. Happily for me, there was no vain pomp and cere-
mony about him. I was never more quickly or more com-
pletely put at ease in the presence of a great man, than in
that of Abraham Lincoln. He was seated, when I entered,
in a low arm chair, with his feet extended on the floor, sur-
rounded by a large number of documents, and several busy
secretaries. The room bore the marks of business, and the
persons in it, the president included, appeared to be much
over-worked and tired. Long lines of care were already
deeply written on Mr. Lincoln's brow, and his strong face, full
of earnestness, lighted up as soon as my name was mentioned.
As I approached and was introduced to him, he rose and ex-
tended his hand, and bade me welcome. I at once felt myself
in the * of an honest man—one whom I could love,
352 HIS KIND RECEPTION.
honor, and trust without reserve or doubt. Proceeding to
tell him who I was, and what I was doing, he promptly, but
kindly, stopped me, saying, “I know who you are, Mr. Doug-
lass; Mr. Seward has told me all about you. Sit down. I am
glad to see you.” I then told him the object of my visit: that
I was assisting to raise colored troops; that several months
before I had been very successful in getting men to enlist, but
that now it was not easy to induce the colored men to enter
the service, because there was a feeling among them that the
government did not deal fairly with them in several respects.
Mr. Lincoln asked me to state particulars. I replied that
there were three particulars which I wished to bring to his
attention. First, that colored soldiers ought to receive the
same wages as those paid to white soldiers. Second, that
colored soldiers ought to receive the same protection when
taken prisoners, and be exchanged as readily, and on the
same terms, as any other prisoners, and if Jefferson Davis
should shoot or hang colored soldiers in cold blood, the United
States government should retaliate in kind and degree with-
out delay upon Confederate prisoners in its hands. Third,
when colored soldiers, seeking the “bauble-reputation at the
cannon's mouth,” performed great and uncommon service on
the battle-field, they should be rewarded by distinction and
promotion, precisely as white soldiers are rewarded for like
services.
Mr. Lincoln listened with patience and silence to all I had
to say. He was serious and even troubled by what I had
said, and by what he had evidently thought himself before
upon the same points. He impressed me with the solid grav-
ity of his character, by his silent listening not less than by
his earnest reply to my words.
He began by saying that the employment of colored troops
at all was a great gain to the colored people; that the meas-
ure could not have been successfully adopted at the beginning
of the war; that the wisdom of making colored men soldiers
was still doubted; that their enlistment was a serious offense


THEIR VIEWS DIFFERED. 353
to popular prejudice; that they had larger motives for being
soldiers than white men; that they ought to be willing to
enter the service upon any conditions; that the fact that they
were not to receive the same pay as white soldiers, seemed a
necessary concession to smooth the way to their employment
at all as soldiers; but that ultimately they would receive the
same. On the second point, in respect to equal protection,
he said the case was more difficult. Retaliation was a terrible
remedy, and one which it was very difficult to apply; one
which if once begun, there was no telling where it would end;
that if he could get hold of the confederate soldiers who had
been guilty of treating colored soldiers as felons, he could
easily retaliate, but the thought of hanging men for a crime
perpetrated by others, was revolting to his feelings. He
thought that the rebels themselves would stop such barbarous
warfare, and less evil would be done if retaliation were not
resorted to. That he had already received information that
colored soldiers were being treated as prisoners of war. In
all this I saw the tender heart of the man rather than the
stern warrior and commander-in-chief of the American army
and navy, and while I could not agree with him, I could but
respect his humane spirit. -
On the third point he appeared to have less difficulty, though
he did not absolutely commit himself. He simply said that he
would sign any commission to colored soldiers whom his sec-
retary of war should commend to him. Though I was not
entirely satisfied with his views, I was so well satisfied with
the man and with the educating tendency of the conflict, I
determined to go on with the recruiting.
From the president, I went to see Secretary Stanton. The
manner of no two men could be more widely different. I was
introduced by Assistant Secretary Dana, whom I had known
many years before at “ Brook Farm,” Mass., and afterwards as
managing editor of the New York Tribune. Every line in Mr.
Stanton's face told me that my communication with him must
be brief, clear, and to the point; that he might turn his back

354 THE PROMISE OF SECRETARY STANTON.
upon me as a bore at any moment; that politeness was not
one of his weaknesses. His first glance was that of a man
who says, “Well, what do you want? I have no time to
waste upon you or any body else, and I shall waste none.
Speak quick, or I shall leave you.” The man and the place
seemed alike busy. Seeing I had no time to lose, I hastily
went over the ground I had gone over to President Lincoln.
As I ended, I was surprised by seeing a changed man before me.
Contempt and suspicion, and brusqueness, had all disappeared
from his face and manner, and for a few minutes he made the
best defense that I had then heard from any body of the treat-
ment of colored soldiers by the government. I was not satisfied,
yet I left in the full belief that the true course to the black
man's freedom and citizenship was over the battle-field,
and that my business was to get every black man I could
into the Union armies. Both the President and Secretary of
War assured me that justice would ultimately be done my
race, and I gave full faith and credit to their promise. On
assuring Mr. Stanton of my willingness to take a commission,
he said he would make me assistant adjutant to General
Thomas, who was then recruiting and organizing troops in the
Mississippi valley. He asked me how soon I could be ready.
I told him in two weeks, and that my commission might be
sent me to Rochester. For some reason, however, my com-
mission never came. The government, I fear, was still cling-
ing to the idea that positions of honor in the service should be
occupied by white men, and that it would not do to inaugurate
just then the policy of perfect equality. I wrote to the depart-
ment for my commission, but was simply told to report to
General Thomas. This was so different from what I expected
and from what I had been promised, that I wrote to Secretary
Stanton that I would report to General Thomas on receipt of
my commission, but it did not come, and I did not go to the
Mississippi valley as I had fondly hoped. I knew too much
of camp life and the value of shoulder straps in the army to
go into the service without some visible mark of my rank. I


HIS SONS IN THE ARMY. 355
have no doubt that Mr. Stanton in the moment of our meeting
meant all he said, but thinking the matter over he felt that
the time had not then come for a step so radical and aggres-
sive. Meanwhile my three sons were in the service. Lewis
and Charles, as already named, in the Massachusetts regiments
and Frederick recruiting colored troops in the Mississippi
valley.

CHAPTER XII. -
HOPE FOR THE NATION.
Proclamation of emancipation–Its reception in Boston–Objections brought
against it—Its effect on the country—Interview with President Lincoln–
New York riots—Re-election of Mr. Lincoln–His inauguration, and
inaugural—Vice-President Johnson—Presidential reception—The fall of
Richmond—Fanueil Hall—The assassination–Condolence.
HE first of January, 1863, was a memorable day in the
progress of American liberty and civilization. It was
the turning-point in the conflict between freedom and slavery.
A death blow was then given to the slaveholding rebellion.
Until then the federal arm had been more than tolerant to
that relict of barbarism. It had defended it inside the slave
States; it had countermanded the emancipation policy of John
C. Fremont in Missouri; it had returned slaves to their
so-called owners; and had threatened that any attempt on the
part of the slaves to gain their freedom by insurrection, or
otherwise, would be put down with an iron hand; it had even
refused to allow the Hutchinson family to sing their anti-
slavery songs in the camps of the Army of the Potomac ; it
had surrounded the houses of slaveholders with bayonets for
their protection; and through its secretary of war, William
H. Seward, had given notice to the world that, “however the
war for the Union might terminate, no change would be made
in the relation of master and slave.” Upon this pro-slavery
platform the war against the rebellion had been waged during
more than two years. It had not been a war of conquest, but
rather a war of conciliation. McClellan, in command of the
army, had been trying, apparently, to put down the rebellion
without hurting the rebels, certainly without hurting slavery,
and the government had seemed to coöperate with him in both
(356)

THE & NEW DEPARTURE.” 357
respects. Charles Sumner, William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell
Phillips, Gerrit Smith, and the whole anti-slavery phalanx at
the North, had denounced this policy, and had besought Mr.
Lincoln to adopt an opposite one, but in vain. Generals, in the
field, and corncils in the Cabinet, had persisted in advancing
this policy through defeats and disasters, even to the verge of
ruin. We fought the rebellion, but not its cause. The key
to the situation was the four million of slaves; yet the slave
who loved us, was hated, and the slaveholder who hated us,
was loved. We kissed the hand that smote us, and spurned
the hand that helped us. When the means of victory were
before us, within our grasp, we went in search of the means
of defeat. And now, on this day of January 1st, 1863, the
formal and solemn announcement was made that thereafter
the government would be found on the side of emancipation.
This proclamation changed everything. It gave a new direc-
tion to the councils of the Cabinet, and to the conduct of the
national arms. I shall leave to the statesman, the philoso-
pher, and historian, the more comprehensive discussion of this
document, and only tell how it touched me, and those in like
condition with me at the time. I was in Boston, and its
reception there may indicate the importance attached to it
elsewhere. An immense assembly convened in Tremont Tem-
ple to await the first flash of the electric wires announcing
the “new departure.” Two years of war prosecuted in the
interests of slavery, had made free speech possible in Boston,
and we were now met together to receive and celebrate the
first utterance of the long-hoped-for proclamation, if it came,
and, if it did not come, to speak our minds freely; for, in
view of the past, it was by no means certain that it would
come. The occasion, therefore, was one of both hope and
fear. Our ship was on the open sea, tossed by a terrible
storm; wave after wave was passing over us, and every hour
was fraught with increasing peril. Whether we should sur-
vive or perish, depended in large measure upon the coming of
this proclamation. At least so we felt. Although the condi.

358 MEETING IN TREMONT TEMPLE.
tions on which Mr. Lincoln had promised to withhold it, had
not been complied with, yet, from many considerations, there
was room to doubt and fear. Mr. Lincoln was known to be a-
man of tender heart, and boundless patience: no man could
tell to what length he might go, or might refrain from going
in the direction of peace and reconciliation. Hitherto, he had
not shown himself a man of heroic measures, and, properly
enough, this step belonged to that class. It must be the end
of all compromises with slavery—a declaration that thereafter
the war was to be conducted on a new principle, with a new
aim. It would be a full and fair assertion that the govern-
ment would neither trifle, or be trifled with any longer. But
would it come On the side of doubt, it was said that Mr.
Lincoln's kindly nature might cause him to relent at the last
moment; that Mrs. Lincoln, coming from an old slaveholding
family, would influence him to delay, and give the slaveholders
one other chance.* Every moment of waiting chilled our
hopes, and strengthened our fears. A line of messengers was
established between the telegraph office and the platform of
Tremont Temple, and the time was occupied with brief
speeches from Hon. Thomas Russell of Plymouth, Miss Anna
E. Dickinson (a lady of marvelous eloquence), Rev. Mr.
Grimes, J. Sella Martin, William Wells Brown, and myself.
But speaking or listening to speeches was not the thing for
which the people had come together. The time for argument
was passed. It was not logic, but the trump of jubilee, which
everybody wanted to hear. We were waiting and listening
as for a bolt from the sky, which should rend the fetters of
four million of slaves; we were watching, as it were, by the
dim light of the stars, for the dawn of a new day; we were
longing for the answer to the agonizing prayers of centuries.
Remembering those in bonds as bound with them, we wanted
to join in the shout for freedom, and in the anthem of the
redeemed.
* I have reason to know that this supposition did Mrs. Lincoln great
injustice.

PROCLAMATION NOT SATISFACTORY. 359
Eight, nine, ten o’clock came and went, and still no word.
A visible shadow seemed falling on the expecting throng,
which the confident utterances of the speakers sought in vain
to dispel. At last, when patience was well-nigh exhausted,
and suspense was becoming agony, a man (I think it was
Judge Russell) with hasty step advanced through the crowd,
and with a face fairly illumined with the news he bore, ex-
claimed in tones that thrilled all hearts, “It is coming ſº “It
is on the wires | " The effect of this announcement was
startling beyond description, and the scene was wild and
grand. Joy and gladness exhausted all forms of expression
from shouts of praise, to sobs and tears. My old friend Rue,
a colored preacher, a man of wonderful vocal power, expressed
the heartfelt emotion of the hour, when he led all voices in
the anthem, “Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt’s dark sea,
Jehovah hath triumphed, his people are free. ” About twelve
o'clock, seeing there was no disposition to retire from the hall,
which must be vacated, my friend Grimes (of blessed memory),
rose and moved that the meeting adjourn to the Twelfth Bap-
tist church, of which he was pastor, and soon that church was
packed from doors to pulpit, and this meeting did not break
up till near the dawn of day. It was one of the most affect-
ing and thrilling occasions I ever witnessed, and a worthy
celebration of the first step on the part of the nation in its
departure from the thraldom of ages.
There was evidently no disposition on the part of this meet-
ing to criticise the proclamation ; nor was there with any one
at first. At the moment we saw only its anti-slavery side.
But further and more critical examination showed it to be
extremely defective. It was not a proclamation of “liberty
throughout all the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof,” such
as we had hoped it would be: but was one marked by discrim.
inations and reservations. Its operation was confined within
certain geographical and military lines. It only abolished
slavery where it did not exist, and left it intact where it did
exist. It * measure apparently inspired by the law motive
360 BUT AN IMMENSE GAIN.
of military necessity, and by so far as it was so, it would be-
come inoperative and useless when military necessity should
cease. There was much said in this line, and much that was
narrow and erroneous. For my own part, I took the proc-
lamation, first and last, for a little more than it purported;
and saw in its spirit, a life and power far beyond its letter.
Its meaning to me was the entire abolition of slavery, where-
ever the evil could be reached by the Federal arm, and I saw
that its moral power would extend much further. It was in
my estimation an immense gain to have the war for the Union
committed to the extinction of Slavery, even from a military
necessity. It is not a bad thing to have individuals or nations
do right though they do so from selfish motives. I approved
the one-spur-wisdom of “Paddy” who thought if he could get one
side of his horse to go, he could trust the speed of the other side.
The effect of the proclamation abroad was highly beneficial
to the loyal cause. Disinterested parties could now see in it
a benevolent character. It was no longer a mere strife for terri-
tory and dominion, but a contest of civilization against bar-
barism.
The Proclamation itself was like Mr. Lincoln throughout.
It was framed with a view to the least harm and the most
good possible in the circumstances, and with especial consid.
eration of the latter. It was thoughtful, cautious, and well
guarded at all points. While he hated Slavery, and really
desired its destruction, he always proceeded against it in a
manner the least likely to shock or drive from him any who
were truly in sympathy with the preservation of the union,
but who were not friendly to Emancipation. For this he kept
up the distinction between loyal and disloyal slaveholders,
and discriminated in favor of the one, as against the other. In
a word, in all that he did, or attempted, he made it manifest
that the one great and all commanding object with him, was
the peace and preservation of the Union, and that this was
the motive and main spring of a his measures. His wisdom
and moderation at this point were for a season useful to the



MOB LAW IN NEW YORK. 361
loyal cause in the border states, but it may be fairly question-
ed, whether it did not chill the union ardor of the loyal people
of the north in some degree, and diminish rather than in-
crease the sum of our power against the rebellion: for mod-
erate cautions and guarded as was this proclamation it crea-
ted a howl of indignation and wrath amongst the rebels
and their allies. The old cry was raised by the copperhead
organs of “an abolition war,” and a pretext was thus found
for an excuse for refusing to enlist, and for marshaling all
the negro prejudice of the north on the rebel side. Men could say
they were willing to fight for the union, but that they were
not willing to fight for the freedom of the negroes; and thus
it was made difficult to procure enlistments or to enforce the
draft. This was especially true of New York, where there
was a large Irish population. The attempt to enforce the
draft in that city was met by mobs, riot, and bloodshed. There
is perhaps no darker chapter in the whole history of the war,
than this cowardly and bloody uprising in July, 1863. For
three days and nights New York was in the hands of a fero-
cious mob, and there was not sufficient power in the govern-
ment of the country or of the city itself, to stay the hand of
violence, and the effusion of blood. Though this mob was
nominally against the draft which had been ordered, it poured
out its fiercest wrath upon the colored people and their friends.
It spared neither age nor sex; it hanged negroes simply be-
cause they were negroes, it murdered women in their homes,
and burned their homes over their heads, it dashed out the
brains of young children against the lamp posts, it burned the
colored orphan asylum, a noble charity on the corner of 5th
ave., and scarce allowing time for the helpless two hundred
children to make good their escape, plundering the building
of every valuable piece of furniture; and colored men, women,
and children were forced to seek concealment in cellars or
garrets or wheresoever else it could be found until this high
carnival of crime and reign of terror should pass away.
In connection with Geo. L. Stearns, Thomas Webster, and

362 ISAIAH RYNDERS AND HORATIO SEYMOUR.
Col. Wagner, I had been at Camp William Penn, Philadelphia,
assisting in the work of filling up the colored regiments, and
was on my way home from there just as these events were
transpiring in New York. I was met by a friend at Newark
who informed me of this condition of things. I, however,
pressed on my way to the Chambers street station of the Hud-
son River Railroad in safety, the mob being in the upper part
of the city, fortunately for me, for not only my color, but my
known activity in procuring enlistments would have made me
especially obnoxious to its murderous spirit. This was not
the first time I had been in imminent peril in New York city.
My first arrival there, after my escape from slavery, was full of
danger. My passage through its borders after the attack of
John Brown on Harper's Ferry was scarcely less safe. I had
encountered Isaiah Rynders and his gang of ruffians in the
old Broadway Tabernacle at our Anti-slavery anniversary
meeting, and I knew something of the crazy temper of such
crowds; but this anti-draft—anti-negro mob was something
more and something worse—it was a part of the rebel force,
without the rebel uniform, but with all its deadly hate; it was
the fire of the enemy opened in the rear of the loyal army.
Such men as Franklin Pierce and Horatio Seymour had done
much in their utterances to encourage resistance to the drafts.
Seymour was then Governor of the State of New York, and
while the mob was doing its deadly work he addressed them
as “My friends,” telling them to desist then, while he could
arrange at Washington to have the draft arrested. Had Gov-
ernor Seymour been loyal to his country, and to his country's
cause, in this her moment of need, he would have burned his
tongue with a red hot iron sooner than allow it to call these
thugs, thieves, and murderers his “friends.”
My interviews with President Lincoln and his able Secre-
tary, before narrated, greatly increased my confidence in the
anti-slavery integrity of the government, although I confess I
was greatly disappointed at my failure to receive the commis-
sion promised me by Secretary Stanton. I, however, faithfully

M’CLELLAN AND GRANT. 363
believed, and loudly proclaimed my belief, that the rebellion
would be suppressed, the Union preserved, the slaves emanci-
pated, and the colored soldiers would in the end have justice
done them. This confidence was immeasurably strengthened
when I saw Gen. George B. McClellan relieved from the com-
mand of the army of the Potomac and Gen U. S. Grant
placed at its head, and in command of all the armies of the
United States. My confidence in Gen. Grant was not entirely
due to the brilliant military successes achieved by him, but
there was a moral as well as military basis for my faith in him.
He had shown his single mindedness and superiority to popu-
lar prejudice by his prompt co-operation with President Lin-
coln in his policy of employing colored troops, and his order
commanding his soldiers to treat such troops with due respect.
In this way he proved himself to be not only a wise General,
but a great man—one who could adjust himself to new con-
ditions, and adopt the lessons taught by the events of the
hour. This quality in General Grant was and is made
all the more conspicuous and striking in contrast with
his West Point education and his former political associations;
for neither West Point nor the Democratié party have been
good schools in which to learn justice and fair play to the
negro.
It was when General Grant was fighting his way through
the Wilderness to Richmond, on the “line” he meant to pur-
sue “if it took all summer,” and every reverse to his arms
was made the occasion for a fresh demand for peace without
emancipation, that President Lincoln did me the honor to
invite me to the Executive Mansion for a conference on the
situation. I need not say I went most gladly. The main
subject on which he wished to confer with me was as to the
means most desirable to be employed outside the army to
induce the slaves in the rebel States to come within the Fed-
eral lines. The increasing opposition to the war, in the
north, and the mad cry against it, because it was being made
an abolition war, alarmed Mr. Lincoln, and made him appre-
364 CONFERENCE WITH MR. LINCOLN.
hensive that a peace might be forced upon him which would
leave still in slavery all who had not come within our lines.
What he wanted was to make his proclamation as effective as
possible in the event of such a peace. He said in a regretful
tone, “The slaves are not coming so rapidly and so numerously
to us as I had hoped.” I replied that the slaveholders knew
how to keep such things from their slaves, and probably very
few knew of his proclamation. “Well,” he said, “I want you
to set about devising some means of making them acquainted
with it, and for bringing them into our lines.” He spoke
with great earnestness and much solicitude, and seemed
troubled by the attitude of Mr. Greeley, and the growing
impatience there was being manifested through the north at
the war. He said he was being accus d of protracting the
war beyond its legitimate object, and of failing to make peace,
when he might have done so to advantage. He was afraid of
what might come of all these complaints, but was persuaded
that no solid and lasting peace could come short of absolute
submission on the part of the rebels, and he was not for giv-
ing them rest by futile conferences at Niagara Falls, or else-
where, with unauthorized persons. He saw the danger of
premature peace, and, like a thoughtful and sagacious man
as he was, he wished to provide means of rendering such
consummation as harmless as possible. I was the more
impressed by this benevolent consideration because he before
said, in answer to the peace clamor, that his object was to
save the Union, and to do so with or without slavery. What
he said on this day showed a deeper moral conviction against
slavery than I had even seen before in anything spoken or
written by him. I listened with the deepest interest and pro-
foundest satisfaction, and, at his suggestion, agreed to under-
take the organizing a band of scouts, composed of colored
men, whose business should be somewhat after the original
plan of John Brown, to go into the rebel States, beyond the
lines of our armies, and carry the news of emancipation, and
urge the slaves to come within our boundaries.
-


AN INCIDENT. 365
This plan, however, was very soon rendered unnecessary by
the success of the war in the Wilderness and elsewhere, and
by its termination in the complete abolition of slavery.
I refer to this conversation because I think it is evidence
conclusive on Mr. Lincoln's part that the proclamation, so far
at least as he was concerned, was not effected merely as a
“necessity.”
An incident occurred during this interview which illustrates
the character of this great man, though the mention of it may
savor a little of vanity on my part. While in conversation
with him his Secretary twice announced “Governor Bucking-
ham of Connecticut,” one of the noblest and most patriotic of
the loyal Governors. Mr. Lincoln said, “Tell Governor Buck-
ingham to wait, for I want to have a long talk with my friend
Frederick Douglass.” I interposed, and begged him to see
the Governor at once, as I could wait; but no, he persisted
he wanted to talk with me, and Governor Buckingham could
wait. This was probably the first time in the history of this
Republic when its chief magistrate found occasion or disposi-
tion to exercise such an act of impartiality between persons
so widely different in their positions and supposed claims upon
his attention. From the manner of the Governor, when he
was finally admitted, I inferred that he was as well satisfied
with what Mr. Lincoln had done, or had omitted to do, as I
Was.
I have often said elsewhere what I wish to repeat here, that
Mr. Lincoln was not only a great President, but a GREAT
MAN–too great to be small in anything. In his company I
was never in any way reminded of my humble origin, or of
my unpopular color. While I am, as it may seem, bragging
of the kind consideration which I have reason to believe that
Mr. Lincoln entertained towards me, I may mention one thing
more. At the door of my friend John A. Gray, where I was
stopping in Washington, I found one afternoon the carriage
of Secretary Dole, and a messenger from President Lincoln
with an invitation for me to take tea with him at the Soldiers

366 SEWARD AND CHASE.
Home, where he then passed his nights, riding out after the
business of the day was over at the Executive Mansion.
Unfortunately I had an engagement to speak that evening, and
having made it one of the rules of my conduct in life never
to break an engagement if possible to keep it, I felt obliged to
decline the honor. I have often regretted that I did not make
this an exception to my general rule. Could I have known that
no such opportunity could come to me again, I should have jus-
tified myself in disappointing a large audience for the sake of
such a visit with Abraham Lincoln.
It is due perhaps to myself to say here that I did not take
Mr. Lincoln's attentions as due to my merits or personal qual-
ities. While I have no doubt that Messrs. Seward and Chase
had spoken well of me to him, and the fact of my having been
a slave, and gained my freedom, and of having picked up
some sort of an education, and being in some sense a “self-
made man,” and having made myself useful as an advocate of
the claims of my people, gave me favor in his eyes; yet I am
quite sure that the main thing which gave me consideration
with him was my well known relation to the colored people of
the Republic, and especially the help which that relation
enabled me to give to the work of suppressing the rebellion
and of placing the Union on a firmer basis than it ever had or
could have sustained in the days of slavery.
So long as there was any hope whatsoever of the success of
Rebellion, there was of course a corresponding fear that a new
lease of life would be granted to slavery. The proclamation
of Fremont in Missouri, the letter of Phelps in the Depart-
ment of the Gulf, the enlistment of colored troops by Gen.
Hunter, the “Contraband’’ letter of Gen. B. F. Butler, the
soldierly qualities surprisingly displayed by colored soldiers in
the terrific battles of Port Hudson, Vicksburg, Morris Island,
and elsewhere, the Emancipation proclamation by Abraham
Lincoln had given slavery many and deadly wounds, yet it
was in fact only wounded and crippled, not disabled and
killed. With this condition of national affairs came the sum-

THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY. 367
mer of 1864, and with it the revived Democratic party, with
the story in its mouth that the war was a failure, and with
Gen. George B. McClellan, the greatest failure of the war, as
its candidate for the Presidency. It is needless to say that
the success of such a party, on such a platform, with such a
candidate, a ch a time would have been a fatal calamity.
All that had been done towards suppressing the rebellion and
abolishing slavery would have proved of no avail, and the
final settlement between the two sections of the Republic,
touching slavery and the right of secession, would have been
left to tear and rend the country again at no distant future.
It was said that this Democratic party, which under Mr.
Buchanan had betrayed the Government into the hands of
secession and treason, was the only party which could restore
the country to peace and union. No doubt it would have
“patched up" a peace, but it would have been a peace more
to be dreaded than war. So at least I felt and worked.
When we were thus asked to exchange Abraham Lincoln for
McClellan—a successful Union President for an unsuccessful
Union General—a party earnestly endeavoring to save the
Union, torn and rent by a gigantic rebellion, I thought with
Mr. Lincoln, that it was not wise to “swap horses while cross-
ing a stream.” Regarding, as I did, the continuance of the
war to the complete suppression of the rebellion, and the
retention in office of President Lincoln as essential to the
total destruction of slavery, I certainly exerted myself to the
uttermost, in my small way, to secure his re-election. This
most important object was not attained, however, by speeches,
letters, or other electioneering appliances. The staggering
blows dealt upon the rebellion that year by the armies under
Grant and Sherman, and his own great character, ground all
opposition to dust, and made his election sure, even before the
question reached the polls. Since William the Silent, who
was the soul of the mighty war for religious liberty against
Spain and the Spanish inquisition, no leader of men has been
loved and trusted in such generous measure as Abraham Lincoln.
368 LINCOLN's INAUGURATION.
His election silenced, in a good degree, the discontent felt at
the length of the war, and the complaints of its being an
Abolition war. Every victory of our arms, on flood and field,
was a rebuke to McClellan and the Democratic party, and an
endorsement of Abraham Lincoln for President, and his new
policy. It was my good fortune to be present at his inaugura-
tion in March, and to hear on that occasion his remarkable
inaugural address. On the night previous I took tea with
Chief Justice Chase, and assisted his beloved daughter, Mrs.
Sprague, in placing over her honored father's shoulders the
new robe, then being made, in which he was to administer the
oath of office to the re-elected President. There was a dignity
and grandeur about the Chief Justice which marked him as one
born great. He had known me in early anti-slavery days, and
had conquered his race-prejudice, if he ever had any ; at any
rate, he had welcomed me to his home and his table, when to do
so was a strange thing in Washington; and the fact was by no
means an insignificant one.
The inauguration, like the election, was a most important
event. Four years before, after Mr. Lincoln's first election,
the pro-slavery spirit determined against his inauguration,
and it no doubt would have accomplished its purpose had he
attempted to pass openly and recognized through Baltimore.
There was murder in the air then, and there was murder in
the air now. His first inauguration arrested the fall of the
Republic, and the second was to restore it to enduring foun-
dations. At the time of the second inauguration the rebellion
was apparently vigorous, defiant, and formidable; but in
reality weak, dejected, and desperate. It had reached that
verge of madness when it had called upon the negro for help
to fight against the freedom which he so longed to find, for
the bondage he would escape—against Lincoln the Emancipa-
tor for Davis the enslaver. But desperation discards logic as
well as law, and the South was desperate. Sherman was
marching to the sea, and Virginia with its rebel capital was
in the firm grip of Ulysses S. Grant. To those who knew the





INAUGURATION PROCESSION. 369
situation it was evident that unless some startling change was
made the confederacy had but a short time to live, and that
time full of misery. This condition of things made the air at
Washington dark and lowering. The friends of the confeder-
ate cause here were neither few nor insignificant. They were
among the rich and influential. A wink or a nod from such
men might unchain the hand of violence and set order and
law at defiance. To those who saw beneath the surface it
was clearly perceived that there was danger abroad; and as
the procession passed down Pennsylvania Avenue, I for one
felt an instinctive apprehension that at any moment a shot
from some assassin in the crowd might end the glittering
pageant, and throw the country into the depths of anarchy.
I did not then know, what has since become history, that the
plot was already formed and its execution contemplated for
that very day, which though several weeks delayed, at last
accomplished its deadly work. Reaching the Capitol, I took
my place in the crowd where I could see the Presidential pro-
cession as it came upon the east portico, and where I could
hear and see all that took place. There was no such throng
as that which celebrated the inauguration of President Gar-
field, nor that of President Rutherford B. Hayes. The whole
proceeding was wonderfully quiet, earnest, and solemn. From
the oath, as administered by Chief Justice Chase, to the brief
but weighty address delivered by Mr. Lincoln, there was a leaden
stillness about the crowd. The address sounded more like a
sermon than a state paper. In the fewest words possible it
referred to the condition of the country four years before, on
his first accession to the presidency—to the causes of the war,
and the reasons on both sides for which it had been waged.
“Neither party,” he said, “expected for the war the magnitude
or the duration which it had already attained. Neither antici-
pated that the cause of the conflict might cease with or even
before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an
easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding.”
Then in a few short sentences, admitting the conviction that
370 PRESIDENT LINCOLN's ADDRESS.
slavery had been the “offense which, in the providence of
God, must needs come, and the war as the woe due to those
by whom the offense came,” he asks if there can be “discerned
in this, any departure from those Divine attributes which the
believers in a loving God always ascribe to him? Fondly do
we hope,” he continued, “fervently do we pray that this
mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet if God
wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bond-
man's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be
sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall
be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three
thousand years ago, so still it must be said, ‘The judgments
of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.’
“With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firm-
ness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive
to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds,
to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his
widow and his orphans, to do all which may achieve and
cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all
nations.”
I know not how many times, and before how many people I
have quoted these solemn words of our martyred president;
they struck me at the time, and have seemed to me ever since
to contain more vital substance than I have ever seen com-
pressed in a space so narrow; yet on this memorable occasion
when I clapped my hands in gladness and thanksgiving at
their utterance, I saw in the faces of many about me expres-
sions of widely different emotion.
On this inauguration day, while waiting for the opening of
the ceremonies, I made a discovery in regard to the Vice-
President–Andrew Johnson. There are moments in the
lives of most men, when the doors of their souls are open, and
unconsciously to themselves, their true characters may be
read by the observant eye. It was at such an instant I caught
a glimpse of the real nature of this man, which all subsequent
developments proved true. I was standing in the crowd by


THE RECEPTION. 371
the side of Mrs. Thomas J. Dorsey, when Mr. Lincoln touched
Mr. Johnson, and pointed me out to him. The first expression
which came to his face, and which I think was the true index
of his heart, was one of bitter contempt and aversion. Seeing
that I observed him, he tried to assume a more friendly ap-
pearance; but it was too late; it was useless to close the door
when all within had been seen. His first glance was the
frown of the man, the second was the bland and sickly smile
of the demagogue. I turned to Mrs. Dorsey and said, “What-
ever Andrew Johnson may be, he certainly is no friend of our
race.” -
No stronger contrast could well be presented between two
men than between President Lincoln and Vice-President John-
son on this day. Mr. Lincoln was like one who was treading
the hard and thorny path of duty and self-denial; Mr. Johnson
was like one just from a drunken debauch. The face of the
one was full of manly humility, although at the topmost height
of power and pride, the other was full of pomp and swaggering
vanity. The fact was, though it was yet early in the day,
Mr. Johnson was drunk. -
In the evening of the day of the inauguration, another new
experience awaited me. The usual reception was given at the
executive mansion, and though no colored persons had ever
ventured to present themselves on such occasions, it seemed
now that freedom had become the law of the republic, now
that colored men were on the battle-field mingling their blood
with that of white men in one common effort to saye the
country, it was not too great an assumption for a colored man
to offer his congratulations to the President with those of
other citizens. I decided to go, and sought in vain for some
one of my ºwn. color to accompany me. It is never an agree-
able experience to go where there can be any doubt of wel-
come, and my colored friends had too often realized discom-
fiture from this cause to be willing to subject themselves to
such unhappiness: they wished me to go, as my New England
colored friends in the long ago liked very well to have me
372 THE AUTHOR AND MRS. DORSEY ATTEND.
take passage on the first-class cars, and be hauled out and
pounded by rough-handed brakemen, to make way for them.
It was plain, then, that some one must lead the way, and that
if the colored man would have his rights, he must take them;
and now, though it was plainly quite the thing for me to at-
tend President Lincoln's reception, “they all with one accord
began to make excuse.” It was finally arranged that Mrs.
Dorsey should bear me company, so together we joined in the
grand procession of citizens from all parts of the country, and
moved slowly towards the executive mansion. I had for some
time looked upon myself as a man, but now in this multitude
of the élite of the land, I felt myself a man among men. I
regret to be obliged to say, however, that this comfortable
assurance was not of long duration, for on reaching the door,
two policemen stationed there took me rudely by the arm and
ordered me to stand back, for their directions were to admit
no persons of my color. The reader need not be told that
this was a disagreeable set-back. But once in the battle, I
did not think it well to submit to repulse. I told the officers
I was quite sure there must be some mistake, for no such
order could have emanated from President Lincoln; and if he
knew I was at the door he would desire my admission. They
then, to put an end to the parley, as I suppose, for we were ob-
structing the door way, and were not easily pushed aside,
assumed an air of politeness, and offered to conduct me in.
We followed their lead, and soon found ourselves walking
some planks out of a window, which had been arranged as a
temporary passage for the exit of visitors. We halted so soon
as we saw the trick, and I said to the officers: “You have
deceived me. I shall not go out of this building till I see
President Lincoln.” At this moment a gentleman who was
passing in, recognized me, and I said to him: “Be so kind as
to say to Mr. Lincoln that Frederick Douglass is detained
by officers at the door.” It was not long before Mrs. Dorsey
and I walked into the spacious East Room, amid a scene of
elegance such as in this country I had never witnessed before.



AUTHOR'S OPINION OF THE ADDRESS. 373
Like a mountain pine high above all others, Mr. Lincoln stood,
in his grand simplicity, and home-like beauty. Recognizing
me, even before I reached him, he exclaimed, so that all
around could hear him, “Here comes my friend Douglass.”
Taking me by the hand, he said, “I am glad to see you. I
saw you in the crowd to-day, listening to my inaugural ad-
dress; how did you like it?” I said, “Mr. Lincoln, I must not
detain you with my poor opinion, when there are thousands
waiting to shake hands with you.” “No, no,” he said, “you
must stop a little, Douglass; there is no man in the country
whose opinion I value more than yours. I want to know what
you think of it?” I replied, “Mr. Lincoln, that was a sacred
effort.” “I am glad you liked it!” he said, and I passed on,
feeling that any man, however distinguished, might well re-
gard himself honored by such expressions, from such a man.
It came out that the officers at the White House had
received no orders from Mr. Lincoln, or from any one else.
They were simply complying with an old custom, the out-
growth of slavery, as dogs will sometimes rub their necks,
long after their collars are removed, thinking they are still
there. My colored friends were well pleased with what had
seemed to them a doubtful experiment, and I believe were
encouraged by its success to follow my example. I have
found in my experience that the way to break down an
unreasonable custom, is to contradict it in practice. To be
sure in pursuing this course I have had to contend not merely
with the white race, but with the black. The one has con-
demned me for my presumption in daring to associate with
them, and the other for pushing myself where they take it for
granted I am not wanted. I am pained to think that the latter
objection springs largely from a consciousness of inferiority,
for as colors alone can have nothing against each other, and
the conditions of human association are founded upon
character rather than color, and character depends upon mind
and morals, there can be nothing blame-worthy in people thus
equal in meeting each other on the plain of civil or social
rights, -
374 THE FALL OF RICHMOND.
A series of important events followed soon after the second
inauguration of Mr. Lincoln, conspicuous amongst which was
the fall of Richmond. The strongest endeavor, and the best
generalship of the Rebellion was employed to hold that place,
and when it fell the pride, prestige, and power of the rebellion
fell with it, never to rise again. The news of this great
event found me again in Boston. The enthusiasm of that
loyal City cannot be easily described. As usual when any-
thing touches the great heart of Boston, Faneuil Hall became
vocal and eloquent. This Hall is an immense building, and
its history is correspondingly great. It has been the theatre
of much patriotic declamation from the days of the “Revolu-
tion " and before; as it has since my day been the scene,
where the strongest efforts of the most popular orators of
Massachusetts have been made. Here Webster the great
“expounder’ addressed the “sea of upturned faces.” Here
Choate, the wonderful Boston barrister, by his weird, electric
eloquence, enchained his thousands; here Everett charmed
with his classic periods the flower of Boston aristocracy; and
here, too, Charles Sumner, Horace Mann, John A. Andrew,
and Wendell Phillips, the last superior to most, and equal to
any, have for forty years spoken their great words for justice,
liberty, and humanity, sometimes in the calm and sunshine of
unruffled peace, but oftener in the tempest and whirlwind of
mobocratic violence. It was here that Mr. Phillips made his
famous speech in denunciation of the murder of Elijah P.
Lovejoy in 1837, which changed the whole current of his life
and made him pre-eminently the leader of anti-slavery thought
in New England. Here too Theodore Parker, whose early
death not only Boston, but the lovers of liberty throughout
the world, still mourn, gave utterance to his deep and life-
giving thoughts in words of fullness and power. But I set
out to speak of the meeting which was held there, in celebra-
tion of the fall of Richmond, for it was a meeting as remark-
able for its composition, as for its occasion. Among the
speakers by whom it was addressed, and who gave voice to


MEETING IN BOSTON. 375
the patriotic sentiments which filled and overflowed each
loyal heart, were Hon. Henry Wilson, and Hon. Robert C.
Winthrop. It would be difficult to find two public men more
distinctly opposite than these. If any one may properly boast
an aristocratic descent, or if there be any value or worth in
that boast, Robert C. Winthrop may without undue presump-
tion, avail himself of it. He was born in the midst of wealth
and luxury, and never felt the flint of hardship or the grip
of poverty. Just the opposite to this was the experience of
Henry Wilson. The son of common people, wealth and
education had done little for him; but he had in him a true
heart, and a world of common sense; and these with industry,
good habits, and perseverance, had carried him further and
lifted him higher, than the brilliant man with whom he formed
such striking contrast. Winthrop, before the war, like many
others of his class, had resisted the anti-slavery current of his
state, had sided largely with the demands of the slave power,
had abandoned many of his old whig friends, when they went
for free soil and free men in 1848, and gone into the demo-
cratic party.
During the war he was too good to be a rebel sympathizer,
and not quite good enough to become as Wilson was—a power
in the union cause. Wilson had risen to eminence by his
devotion to liberal ideas, while Winthrop had sunken almost
to obscurity from his indifference to such ideas. But now
either himself or his friends, most likely the latter, thought
that the time had come when some word implying interest in
the loyal cause should fall from his lips. It was not so much
the need of the union, as the need of himself, that he should
speak; the time when the union needed him, and all others,
was when the slave-holding rebellion raised its defiant head,
not when as now, that head was in the dust and ashes of
defeat and destruction. But the beloved Winthrop, the proud
representative of what Daniel Woºster once called the “solid
men of Boston,” had great need to speak now. It had been
no fault of º cause that he had not spoken sooner.
376 WINTHROP AND WILSON.
Its “gates like those of Heaven stood open night and day.”
If he did not come in, it was his own fault. Regiment after
regiment, brigade after brigade, had passed over Boston Com-
mon to endure the perils and hardships of war; Governor
Andrew had poured out his soul, and exhausted his wonderful
powers of speech in patriotic words to the brave departing
sons of old Massachusetts, and a word from Winthrop would
have gone far to nerve up those young soldiers going forth to
lay down their lives for the life of the republic; but no word
came. Yet now in the last quarter of the eleventh hour,
when the days’ work was nearly done, Robert C. Winthrop
was seen standing upon the same platform with the veteran
Henry Wilson. He was there in all his native grace and dig-
nity, elegantly and aristocratically clothed, his whole bearing
marking his social sphere as widely different from many pres-
ent. Happy for his good name, and for those who shall bear
it when he is no longer among the living, that he was found
even at the last hour, in the right place—in old Faneuil Hall
—side by side with plain Henry Wilson—the shoemaker sen-
ator. But this was not the only contrast on that platform on
that day. It was my strange fortune to follow Mr. Winthrop
on this interesting occasion. I remembered him as the guest
of John H. Clifford of New Bedford, afterwards Governor of
Massachusetts, when twenty-five years before, I had been only
a few months from slavery—I was behind his chair as waiter,
and was even then charmed by his elegant conversation—and
now after this lapse of time, I found myself no longer behind
the chair of this princely man, but announced to succeed him
in the order of speakers, before that brilliant audience. I was
not insensible to the contrast in our history and positions, and
was curious to observe if it effected him, and how. To his
credit I am happy to say he bore himself grandly throughout.
His speech was fully up to the enthusiasm of the hour, and
the great audience greeted his utterances with merited ap-
plause. I need not speak of the speeches of Henry Wilson
and others, or of my own. The meeting was every way a


THE ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN. 377
remarkable expression of popular feeling, created by a great
and important event.
After the fall of Richmond the collapse of the rebellion was
not long delayed, though it did not perish without adding to
its long list of atrocities one which sent a thrill of horror
throughout the civilized world, in the assassination of Abraham
Lincoln; a man so amiable, so kind, humane, and honest, that
one is at a loss to know how he could have had an enemy on
earth. The details of his “taking off” are too familiar to be
more than mentioned here. The recently attempted assassin-
ation of James Abraham Garfield has made us all too pain-
fully familiar with the shock and sensation produced by the
hell-black crime, to make any description necessary. The
curious will note that the Christian name of both men is the
same, and that both were remarkable for their kind qualities,
and for having risen by their own energies from among the
people, and that both were victims of assassins at the begin-
ning of a presidential term.
Mr. Lincoln had reason to look forward to a peaceful and
happy term of office. To all appearance, we were on the eve
of a restoration of the union, and a solid and lasting peace.
He had served one term as President of the Disunited States,
he was now for the first time to be President of the
United States. Heavy had been his burden, hard had been
his toil, bitter had been his trials, and terrible had been his
anxiety; but the future seemed now bright and full of hope.
Richmond had fallen, Grant had General Lee and the army of
Virginia firmly in his clutch; Sherman had fought and found
his way from the banks of the great river to the shores
of the sea, leaving the two ends of the rebellion squirming
and twisting in agony, like the severed parts of a serpent,
doomed to inevitable death; and now there was but a little
time longer for the good President to bear his burden, and be
the target of reproach. His accusers, in whose opinion he
was always too fast or too slow, too weak or too strong, too
conciliatory or too aggressive, would soon become his admir-
378 - HIS CHARACTER.
ers; it was soon to be seen that he had conducted the affairs
of the nation with singular wisdom, and with absolute fidelity
to the great trust confided in him. A country, redeemed and
regenerated from the foulest crime against human nature that
ever saw the sun' What a bright vision of peace, prosperity, and
and happiness must have come to that tired and over-worked
brain, and weary spirit. Men used to talk of his jokes, and he no
doubt indulged them, but I seemed never to have the faculty of
calling them to the surface. I saw him oftener than many who
have reported him, but I never saw any levity in him. He
always impressed me as a strong, earnest man, having no time
or disposition to trifle; grappling with all his might the work
he had in hand. The expression of his face was a blending of
suffering with patience and fortitude. Men called him homely,
and homely he was; but it was manifestly a human homeli-
ness, for there was nothing of the tiger or other wild animal
about him. His eyes had in them the tenderness of mother-
hood, and his mouth and other features the highest perfection
of a genuine manhood. His picture, now before me in my
study, by Marshall, corresponds well with the impression I
have of him. But, alas! what are all good and great quali-
ties; what are human hopes and human happiness to the
revengeful hand of an assassin' What are sweet dreams of
peace; what are visions of the future? A simple leaden bul-
let, and a few grains of powder, in the shortest limit of time,
are sufficient to blast and ruin all that is precious in human
existence, not alone of the murdered, but of the murderer.
I write this in the deep gloom flung over my spirit by the cruel,
wanton, and cold-blooded attempted assassination of Abraham
Garfield, as well as that of Abraham Lincoln.
I was in Rochester, N. Y., where I then resided, when news
of the death of Mr. Lincoln was received. Our citizens, not
knowing what else to do in the agony of the hour, betook
themselves to the City Hall. Though all hearts ached for
utterance, few felt like speaking. We were stunned and over-
whelmed by a crime and calamity hitherto unknown to our



Doctor ROBINSON'S SPEECH. 379
country and our government. The hour was hardly one for
speech, for no speech could rise to the level of feeling. Doctor
Robinson, then of Rochester University, but now of Brown
University, Providence, R. I., was prevailed upon to take the
stand, and made one of the most touching and eloquent
speeches I ever heard. At the close of his address, I was
called upon, and spoke out of the fullness of my heart, and,
happily, I gave expression to so much of the soul of the people
present, that my voice was several times utterly silenced by
the sympathetic tumult of the great audience. I had resided
long in Rochester, and had made many speeches there which
had more or less touched the hearts of my hearers, but never
till this day was 1 brought into such close accord with them.
We shared in common a terrible calamity, and this “touch of
nature, made us,” more than countrymen, it made us “kin.”
CHAPTER XIII.
VAST CHANGES.
Satisfaction and anxiety–New fields of labor opening–Lyceums and col-
leges soliciting addresses–Literary attractions—Pecuniary lin-Still
pleading for human rights-President Andy Johnson–Colored delegation
—Their reply to him—National Loyalist Convention, 1866, and its proces-
sion–Not wanted—Meeting with an old friend—Joy and surprise—The
old master's welcome, and Miss Amanda's friendship—Enfranchisement
discussed—its accomplishment—The negro a citizen.
\Y HEN the war for the union was substantially ended,
and peace had dawned upon the land as was the
case almost immediately after the tragic death of President
Lincoln; when the gigantic system of American slavery which
had defied the march of time, resisted all the appeals and
arguments of the abolitionists, and the humane testimonies of
good men of every generation during two hundred and fifty
years, was finally abolished and forever prohibited by the
organic law of the land; a strange and, perhaps, perverse
feeling came over me. My great and exceeding joy over
these stupendous achievements, especially over the abolition of
slavery (which had been the deepest desire and the great
labor of my life), was slightly tinged with a feeling of sadness.
I felt I had reached the end of the noblest and best part of
my life; my school was broken up, my church disbanded, and
the beloved congregation dispersed, never to come together
again. The anti-slavery platform had performed its work,
and my voice was no longer needed. “Othello's occupation
was gone.” The great happiness of meeting with my fellow-
workers was now to be among the things of memory. Then,
too, some thought of my personal future came in. Like
Daniel Webster, when asked by his friends to leave John
Tyler's Cabinet, I naturally inquired: “Where shall I go?”,

(380)

PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. 381
I was still in the midst of my years, and had something of life
before me, and as the minister urged by my old friend George
Bradburn to preach anti-slavery, when to do so was unpopular,
said, “It is necessary for ministers to live,” I felt it was neces-
sary for me to live, and to live honestly. But where should I
go, and what should I do? I could not now take hold of life
as I did when I first landed in New Bedford, twenty-five years
before: I could not go to the wharf of either Gideon or George
Howland, to Richmond's brass foundry, or Richetson's candle
and oil works, load and unload vessels, or even ask Governor
Clifford for a place as a servant. Rolling oil casks and
shoveling coal were all well enough when I was younger,
immediately after getting out of slavery. Doing this was a
step up, rather than a step down; but all these avocations had
had their day for me, and I had had my day for them. My
public life and labors had unfitted me for the pursuits of my
earlier years, and yet had not prepared me for more congenial
and higher employment. Outside the question of slavery my
thoughts had not been much directed, and I could hardly hope
to make myself useful in any other cause than that to which I
had given the best twenty-five years of my life. A man in the
situation I found myself, has not only to divest himself of the
old, which is never easily done, but to adjust himself to the
new, which is still more difficult. Delivering lectures under
various names, John B. Gough says, “whatever may be the
title, my lecture is always on Temperance;” and such is apt
to be the case with any man who has devoted his time and
thoughts to one subject for any considerable length of time.
But what should I do, was the question? I had a few thou-
sand dollars (a great convenience, and one not generally
so highly prized by my people as it ought to be) saved from
the sale of “my bondage and my freedom,” and the proceeds
of my lectures at home and abroad, and with this sum I
thought of following the noble example of my old friends
Stephen and Abby Kelley Foster, purchase a little farm and
settle myself down to earn an honest living by tilling the soil.

382 LECTURE AT WESTERN RESERVE COLLEGE.
My children were all grown up, and ought to be able to take
care of themselves. This question, however, was soon decided
for me. I had after all acquired (a very unusual thing) a
little more knowledge and aptitude fitting me for the new con-
dition of things than I knew, and had a deeper hold upon
public attention than I had supposed. Invitations began to
pour in upon me from colleges, lyceums, and literary societies,
offering me one hundred, and even two hundred dollars for a
single lecture.
I had, sometime before, prepared a lecture on “Self-made
men,” and also one upon Ethnology, with special reference to
Africa. The latter had cost me much labor, though as I now
look back upon it, it was a very defective production. I wrote
it at the instance of my friend Doctor M. B. Anderson, Presi-
dent of Rochester University, himself a distinguished Ethnol-
ogist, a deep thinker and scholar. I had been invited by one
of the literary societies of Western Reserve College (then
at Hudson, but recently removed to Cleveland, Ohio), to
address it on Commencement day; and never having spoken
on such an occasion, never, indeed, having been myself inside
of a school-house for the purpose of an education, I hesitated
about accepting the invitation, and finally called upon Prof.
Henry Wayland, son of the great Doctor Wayland of Brown
University, and on Doctor Anderson, and asked their advice
whether I ought to accept. Both gentlemen advised me to do
so. They knew me, and evidently thought well of my ability.
But the puzzling question now was, what shall I say if I do go
there? It wont do to give them an old-fashioned anti-slavery
discourse. (I learned afterwards that such a discourse was
precisely what they needed, though not what they wished; for
the faculty, including the President, was in great distress
because I, a colored man, had been invited, and because of
the reproach this circumstance might bring upon the College.)
But what shall I talk about? became the difficult question.
I finally hit upon the one before mentioned. I had read, when
in England a few years before, with great interest, parts of

supſpot, “NATURAL HISTORY OF MAN.” 383
Doctor Pritchard's “Natural History of Man,” a large volume
marvelously calm and philosophical in its discussion of the
science of the origin of the races, and was thus in the line of
my then convictions. I sought this valuable book at once in
our bookstores, but could not obtain it anywhere in this coun-
try. I sent to England, where I paid the sum of seven and a
hiſ dollars for it. In addition to this valuable work, Presi-
dent Anderson kindly gave me a little book entitled, “ Man
and His Migrations,” by Dr. R. G. Latham, and loaned me
the large work of Dr. Morton the famous Archaeologist, and
that of Messrs. Nott and Glidden, the latter written evidently
to degrade the negro and support the then prevalent Calhoun
doctrine of the rightfulness of slavery. With these books, and
occasional suggestions from Dr. Anderson and Prof. Wayland,
I set about preparing my Commencement address. For many
days and nights I toiled, and succeeded at last in getting
something together in due form. Written orations had not
been in my line. I had usually depended upon my unsystem-
atized knowledge, and the inspiration of the hour and the occa-
sion; but I had now got the “scholar bee in my bonnet,” and
supposed that inasmuch as I was to speak to college profes-
sors and students, I must at least make a show of some fami-
liarity with letters. It proved, as to its immediate effect, a
great mistake, for my carefully studied and written address,
full of learned quotations, fell dead at my feet, while a few
remarks I made extemporaneously at collation, were enthusias-
tically received. Nevertheless, the reading and labor expended
were of much value to me. They were needed steps preparatory
to the work upon which I was about to enter. If they failed at
the beginning, they helped to success in the end. My lecture
on “The Races of Men” was seldom called for, but that on
“Self-made Men” was in great demand, especially through the
West. I found that the success of a lecturer depends more
upon the quality of his stock in store, than the amount. My
friend, Wendell Phillips (for such I esteem him), who has
said more ºng words to me, and in vindication of my
384 THE NEGRO YET NEEDS AN ADVOCATE.
race, than any man now living, has delivered his famous lec-
ture on the “Lost Arts” during the last forty years; and I
doubt if among all his lectures, and he has many, there is one
in such requisition as this. When Daniel O'Connell was
asked why he did not make a new speech he playfully replied,
that “it would take Ireland twenty years to learn his old ones.”
Upon some such consideration as this, I adhered pretty closely
to my old lecture on “Self-made Men,” retouching and shad-
ing it a little from time to time as occasion seemed to require.
Here, then, was a new vocation before me, full of advan-
tages, mentally and pecuniarily. When in the employment of the
American Anti-Slavery Society, my salary was about four hun-
dred and fifty dollars a year, and I felt I was well paid for my
services; but I could now make from fifty to a hundred dollars
a night, and have the satisfaction, too, that I was in some small
measure helping to lift my race into consideration; for no
man who lives at all, lives unto himself; he either helps or
hinders all who are in anywise connected with him. I never
rise to speak before an American audience without something
of the feeling that my failure or success will bring blame or
benefit to my whole race. But my activities were not now
confined entirely to lectures before lyceums. Though slavery
was abolished, the wrongs of my people were not ended.
Though they were not slaves they were not yet quite free.
No man can be truly free whose liberty is dependent upon the
thought, feeling, and action of others; and who has himself
no means in his own hands for guarding, protecting, defend-
ing, and maintaining that liberty. Yet the negro after his
emancipation was precisely in this state of destitution. The
law on the side of freedom is of great advantage only where
there is power to make that law respected. I know no class
of my fellowmen, however just, enlightened, and humane,
which can be wisely and safely trusted absolutely with the
liberties of any other class. Protestants are excellent people,
but it would not be wise for Catholics to depend entirely upon
them to look after their rights and interests. Catholics are a


STILL PLEADING FOR HIS RACE. 385
pretty good sort of people (though there is a soul-shuddering
history behind them), yet no enlightened Protestants would
commit their liberty to their care and keeping. And yet the
government had left the freedmen in a worse condition than
either of these. It felt that it had done enough for him. It had
made him free, and henceforth he must make his own way in
the world, or as the slang phrase has it, “Root, pig, or die”; yet
he had none of the conditions for self-preservation or self-
protection. He was free from the individual master, but the
slave of society. He had neither property, money, nor friends.
He was free from the old plantation, but he had nothing but
the dusty road under his feet. He was free from the old
quarter that once gave him shelter, but a slave to the rains of
summer and the frosts of winter. He was in a word literally
turned loose naked, hungry, and destitute to the open sky. The
first feeling towards him by the old master classes, was full of
bitterness and wrath. They resented his emancipation as an
act of hostility towards them, and since they could not punish
the emancipator, they felt like punishing the object which
that act had emancipated. Hence they drove him off the old
plantation, and told him he was no longer wanted there.
They not only hated him because he had been freed as a pun-
ishment to them, but because they felt that they had been robbed
of his labor. An element of greater bitterness still came into
their hearts: the freedman had been the friend of the Govern-
ment, and many of his class had borne arms against them
during the war. The thought of paying cash for labor that
they could formerly extort by the lash did not in anywise im-
prove their disposition to the emancipated slave, or improve
his own condition. Now, since poverty has, and can have no
chance againt wealth, the landless against the land owner, the
ignorant against the intelligent, the freedman was powerless.
He had nothing left him but a slavery-distorted and diseased
body, and lame and twisted limbs with which to fight the
battle of life. I, therefore, soon found that the negro had
still a cause, and that he needed my voice and pen with others

886 THE BALLOT THE ONLY SAFETY.
to plead for it. The American Anti-Slavery Society, under
the lead of Mr. Garrison, had disbanded, its newspapers were
discontinued, its agents were withdrawn from the field, and
all systematic efforts by abolitionists were abandoned. Many
of the Society, Mr. Phillips and myself amongst the number,
differed from Mr. Garrison as to the wisdom of this course.
I felt that the work of the Society was not done, that it had
not fulfilled its mission, which was not merely to emancipate,
but to elevate the enslaved class; but against Mr. Garrison's
leadership and the surprise and joy occasioned by the emanci-
pation, it was impossible to keep the association alive, and the
cause of the freedmen was left mainly to individual effort and
to hastily extemporized societies of an ephemeral character,
brought together under benevolent impulse, but having no
history behind them, and being new to the work, they were
not as effective for good as the old society would have been
had it followed up its work and kept its old instrumentalities
in operation. -
From the first I saw no chance of bettering the conditio
of the freedman, until he should cease to be merely a freed-
man, and should become a citizen. I insisted that there was
no safety for him, or for any body else in America, outside
the American Government: that to guard, protect, and main-
tain his liberty, the freedman should have the ballot; that the
liberties of the American people were dependent upon the
Ballot-box, the Jury-box, and the Cartridge-box, that without
these no class of people could live and flourish in this country,
and this was now the word for the hour with me, and the
word to which the people of the north willingly listened when
I spoke. Hence regarding as I did, the elective franchise as
the one great power by which all civil rights are obtained,
enjoyed, and maintained under our form of government, and
the one without which freedom to any class is delusive if not
impossible, I set myself to work with whatever force and
energy I possessed to secure this power for the recently
emancipated millions.



REASONS AGAINST THE BALLOT FOR THE FREEDMEN. 387
The demand for the ballot was such a vast advance upon
the former objects proclaimed by the friends of the colored
race, that it startled and struck men as preposterous and
wholly inadmissible. Anti-slavery men themselves were not
united as to the wisdom of such demand. Mr. Garrison him-
self, though foremost for the abolition of slavery, was not yet
quite ready to join this advanced movement. In this respect
he was in the rear of Mr. Phillips; who saw not only the
justice, but the wisdom and necessity of the measure. To
his credit it may be said, that he gave the full strength of his
character and eloquence to its adoption. While Mr. Garrison
thought it too much to ask, Mr. Phillips thought it too little.
While the one thought it might be postponed to the future,
the other thought it ought to be done at once. But Mr.
Garrison was not a man to lag far in the rear of truth and
right, and he soon came to see with the rest of us that the
ballot was essential to the freedom of the freedman. A
man's head will not long remain wrong, when his heart is
right. The applause awarded to Mr. Garrison by the conserva-
tives, for his moderation both in respect of his views on this
question, and the disbandment of the American Anti-Slavery
Society must have disturbed him. He was at any rate soon
found on the right side of the suffrage question.
The enfranchisement of the freedmen was resisted on
many grounds, but mainly these two: first the tendency of
the measure to bring the freedmen into conflict with the old
master-class, and the white people of the South generally.
Secondly, their unfitness, by reason of their ignorance, servil-
ity, and degradation, to exercise so great a power as the ballot,
over the destinies of this great nation.
These reasons against the measure which were supposed to
be unanswerable, were in some sense the most powerful
arguments in its favor. The argument that the possession
of suffrage would be likely to bring the negro into conflict
with the old master-class at the South, had its main force in
the admission that the interests of the two classes antagon-

388 REASONS FAVORING THE BALLOT.
ized each other and that the maintenance of the one would
prove inimical to the other. It resolved itself into this, if the
negro had the means of protecting his civil rights, those who
had formerly denied him these rights would be offended and
make war upon him. Experience has shown in a measure
the correctness of this position. The old master was offended
to find the negro whom he lately possessed the right to
enslave and flog to toil, casting a ballot equal to his own, and
resorted to all sorts of meanness, violence, and crime, to dis-
possess him of the enjoyment of this point of equality. In
this respect the exercise of the right of suffrage by the negro
has been attended with the evil, which the opponents of the
measure predicted, and they could say “I’ve told you so,” but
immeasurably and intolerably greater would have been the
evil consequences resulting from the denial to one class of this
natural means of protection, and granting it to the other, and
hostile class. It would have been, to have committed the
lamb to the care of the wolf—the arming of one class and
disarming the other—protecting one interest, and destroying
the other—making the rich strong, and the poor weak—the
white man a tyrant, and the black man a slave. The very
fact therefore that the old master-classes of the South felt
that their interests were opposed to those of the freedmen,
instead of being a reason against their enfranchisement, was
the most powerful one in its favor. Until it shall be safe to
leave the lamb in the hold of the lion, the laborer in the
power of the capitalist, the poor in the hands of the rich, it
will not be safe to leave a newly emancipated people com-
pletely in the power of their former masters, especially when
such masters have not ceased to be such from enlightened
moral convictions but by irresistible force. Then on the part
of the Government itself, had it denied this great right to the
freedmen, it would have been another proof that “Republics
are ungrateful”. It would have been rewarding its enemies,
and punishing its friends—embracing its foes, and spurning
its allies, setting a premium on treason, and degrading

IT OPENS THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 389
loyalty. As to the second point, viz.: the negro's ignorance
and degradation, there was no disputing either. It was the
nature of slavery from whose depths he had arisen to make
him so, and it would have kept it so. It was the policy of
the system to keep him both ignorant and degraded, the better
and more safely to defraud him of his hard earnings; and
this argument never staggered me. The ballot in the hands
of the negro was necessary to open the door of the school
house, and to unlock the treasures of knowledge to him.
Granting all that was said of his ignorance, I used to say,
“if the negro knows enough to fight for his country he
knows enough to vote; if he knows enough to pay taxes for
the support of the government, he knows enough to vote; if
he knows as much when sober, as an Irishman knows when
drunk, he knows enough to vote.”
And now while I am not blind to the evils which have thus
far attended the enfranchisement of the colored people, I hold
that the evils from which we escaped, and the good we have
derived from that act, amply vindicate its wisdom. The evils
it brought are in their nature temporary, and the good is per-
manent. The one is comparatively small, the other absolutely
great. The young child has staggered on his little legs, and
he has sometimes fallen and hurt his head in the fall, but then
he has learned to walk. The boy in the water came near
drowning, but then he has learned to swim. Great changes
in the relations of mankind can never come, without evils
analogous to those which have attended the emancipation and
enfranchisement of the colored people of the United States.
I am less amazed at these evils, than by the rapidity with
which they are subsiding and not more astonished at the
facility with which the former slave has become a free man,
than at the rapid adjustment of the master-class to the new
situation.
Unlike the movement for the abolition of Slavery, the suc-
cess of the effort for the enfranchisement of the freedmen
was not long delayed. It is another illustration of how any

390 INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT JOHNSON.
advance in pursuance of a right principle, prepares and makes
easy the way to another. The way of transgression is a
bottomless pit, one step in that direction invites the next, and
the end is never reached; and it is the same with the path of
righteous obedience. Two hundred years ago, the pious
Doctor Godwin dared affirm that it was “not a sin to baptize
a negro,” and won for him the rite of baptism. It was a
small concession to his manhood; but it was strongly resisted
by the slaveholders of Jamaica, and Virginia. In this they
were logical in their argument, but they were not logical in their
object. They saw plainly that to concede the negro's right to
baptism was to receive him into the Christian Church, and
make him a brother in Christ; and hence they opposed the
first step sternly and bitterly. So long as they could keep
him beyond the circle of human brotherhood, they could
scourge him to toil, as a beast of burden, with a good Christian
conscience, and without reproach. “What!” said they,
“baptize a negro’ preposterous!” Nevertheless the negro
was baptized and admitted to church fellowship; and though
for a long time his soul belonged to God, his body to his
master, and he poor fellow had nothing left for himself, he is
at last not only baptized, but emancipated and enfranchised.
In this achievement, an interview with President Andrew
Johnson, on the 7th of February, 1866, by a delegation con-
sisting of George T. Downing, Lewis H. Douglass, Wm. E.
Matthews, John Jones, John F. Cook, Joseph E. Otis, A. W.
Ross, William Whipper, John M. Brown, Alexander Dunlop,
and myself, will take its place in history as one of the first steps.
What was said on that occasion brought the whole question
virtually before the American people. Until that interview
the country was not fully aware of the intentions and policy
of President Johnson on the subject of reconstruction, especi-
ally in respect of the newly emancipated class of the South.
After having heard the brief addresses made to him by Mr.
Downing and myself, he occupied at least three quarters of an
-- -

ANSWER TO HIS SPEECH. - 391
hour in what seemed a set speech, and refused to listen to any
reply on our part, although solicited to grant a few moments
for that purpose. Seeing the advantage that Mr. Johnson
would have over us in getting his speech paraded before the
country in the morning papers, the members of the delegation
met on the evening of that day, and instructed me to prepare
a brief reply which should go out to the country simultane-
ously with the President's speech to us. Since this reply in-
dicates the points of difference between the President and
ourselves, I produce it here as a part of the history of the
times, it being concurred in by all the members of the delega-
tion.
Both the speech and the reply were commented upon very
extensively.
Mr. PREsmoºrt: In consideration of a delicate sense of propriety as well
as your own repeated intimations of indisposition to discuss or listen to a
reply to the views and opinions you were pleased to express to us in your
elaborate speech to day, the undersigned would respectfully take this method
of replying thereto. Believing as we do that the views and opinions you ex-
pressed in that address are entirely unsound and prejudicial to the highest
interests of our race as well as our country at large, we cannot do other than
expose the same, and, as far as may be in our power, arrest their dangerous
influence. It is not necessary at this time to call attention to more than
two or three features of your remarkable address:
1. The first point to which we feel especially bound to take exception,
is your attempt to found a policy opposed to our enfranchisement, upon the
alleged ground of an existing hostility on the part of the former slaves,
toward the poor white people of the South. We admit the existence of this
hostility, and hold that it is entirely reciprocal. But you obviously commit
an error by drawing an argument from an incident of slavery, and making
it a basis for a policy adapted to a state of freedom. The hostility between
the whites and blacks of the South is easily explained. It has its root and
sap in the relation of slavery, and was incited on both sides by the cunning
of the slave masters. Those masters secured their ascendency over both
the poor whites and blacks by putting enmity between them.
They divided both to conquer each. There was no earthly reason why
the blacks should not hate and dread the poor whites when in a state of
slavery, for it was from this class that their masters received their slave
catchers, slave drivers, and overseers. They were the men called in upon
all occasions by the masters, whenever any fiendish outrage was to be com-
mitted upon the slave. Now, sir, you cannot but perceive, that the cause of
392 CHARLES SUMNER.
this hatred removed, the effect must be removed also. Slavery is abolished.
The cause of this antagonism is removed, and you must see, that it is
altogether illogical (and “putting new wine into old bottles”) to legislate
from slaveholding and slave driving premises for a people whom you have
repeatedly declared your purpose to maintain in freedom.
2. Besides, even if it were true as you allege, that the hostility of the
blacks toward the poor whites must necessarily project itself into a state of
freedom, and that this enmity between the two races is even more intense in
a state of freedom than in a state of slavery, in the name of Heaven, we
reverently ask how can you, in view of your professed desire to promote the
welfare of the black man, deprive him of all means of defence, and clothe
him whom you regard as his enemy in the panoply of political power
Can it be that you recommend a policy which would arm the strong and
cast down the defenceless? Can you, by any possibility of reasoning, regard
this as just, fair, or wise? Experience proves that those are most abused
who can be abused with the greatest impunity. Men are whipped oftenest
who are whipped easiest. Peace between races is not to be secured by de-
grading one race and exalting another, by giving power to one race and
withholding it from another, but by maintaining a state of equal justice
between all classes. First pure, then peaceable.
3. On the colonization theory you were pleased to broach, very much
could be said. It is impossible to suppose, in view of the usefulness of the
black man in time of peace as a laborer in the South, and in time of war as
a soldier at the North, and the growing respect for his rights among the
people, and his increasing adaptation to a high state of civilization in his
native land, there can ever come a time when he can be removed from this
country without a terrible shock to its prosperity and peace. Besides, the
worst enemy of the nation could not cast upon its fair name a greater infamy
than to admit that negroes could be tolerated among them in a state of the
most degrading slavery and oppression, and must be cast away, driven into
exile, for no other cause than having been freed from their chains.
WASHINGTON, February 7th, 1866.
From this time onward, the question of suffrage for the freed-
men, was not allowed to rest. The rapidity with which it
gained strength, was something quite marvelous and surpris-
ing even to its advocates. Senator Charles Sumner soon took
up the subject in the Senate and treated it in his usually able
and exhaustive manner. It was a great treat to listen to his
argument running through two days, abounding as it did in
eloquence, learning, and conclusive reasoning. A committee
of the Senate had reported a proposition giving to the States
lately in rebellion in so many words complete option as to the


EFFORTS IN FAVOR FREE BALLOT. 393
enfranchisement of their colored citizens: only coupling with
that proposition the condition that, to such States as chºse to
enfranchise such citizens, the basis of their representation in
Congress should be proportionately increased; or, in other
words, only three-fifths of the colored citizens should be
counted in the basis of representation in States where colored
citizens were not allowed to vote, while in the States granting
suffrage to colored citizens, the entire colored people should
be counted in the basis of representation. Against this pro-
position, myself and associates addressed to the Senate of the
United States the following memorial:
“To the honorable the Senate of the United States:
“The undersigned, being a delegation representing the colored people of
the several States, and now sojourning in Washington, charged with the
duty to look after the best interests of the recently emancipated, would most
respectfully, but earnestly, pray your honorable body to favor no amend-
ment of the Constitution of the United States which will grant any one or
all of the States of this Union to disfranchise any class of citizens on the
ground of race or color, for any consideration whatever. They would further
respectfully represent that the Constitution as adopted by the fathers of the
Republic in 1789, evidently contemplated the result which has now happened,
to wit, the abolition of slavery. The men who framed it, and those who
adopted it, framed and adopted it for the people, and the whole people—col-
ored men being at that time legal voters in most of the States. In that
instrument as it now stands, there is not a sentence or a syllable conveying
any shadow of right or authority by which any State may make color or
race a disqualification for the exercise of the right of suffrage; and the un-
dersigned will regard as a real calamity the introduction of any words,
expressly or by implication, giving any State or States such power; and we
respectfully submit that if the amendment now pending before your honor-
able body shall be adopted, it will enable any State to deprive any class of
citizens of the elective franchise, notwithstanding it was obviously framed
with a view to affect the question of negro suffrage only.
“For these and other reasons the undersigned respectfully pray that the
amendment to the Constitution, recently passed by the House and now
before your body, be not adopted. And as in duty bound, etc.”
It was the opinion of Senator Wm. Pitt Fessenden, Senator
Henry Wilson, and many others, that the measure here memo.
rialized against would, if incorporated into the Constitution,
certainly bring about the enfranchisement of the whole co-
394 REVELS AND BRUCE, SENATORS.
ored population of the South. It was held by them to be an
inducement to the States to make suffrage universal, since
the basis of representation would be enlarged or contracted,
according as suffrage should be extended or limited; but the
judgment of these leaders was not the judgment of Senator
Sumner, Senator Wade, Yates, Howe, and others, or of the
colored people. Yet, weak as this measure was, it encount-
ered the united opposition of Democratic senators. On that
side, the Hon. Thomas H. Hendricks of Indiana, took the lead
in appealing to popular prejudice against the negro. He con-
tended that among other objectionable and insufferable results
that would flow from its adoption, would be, that a negro
would ultimately be a member of the United States Senate.
I never shall forget the ineffable scorn and indignation with
which Mr. Hendricks deplored the possibility of such an event.
In less, however, than a decade from that debate, Senators
Revels and Bruce, both colored men, had fulfilled the startling
prophecy of the Indiana senator. It was not, however, by the
half-way measure, which he was opposing for its radicalism,
but by the fourteenth and fifteenth amendments, that these
gentlemen reached their honorable positions.
In defeating the option proposed to be given to the States,
to extend or deny suffrage to their colored population, much
credit is due to the delegation already named as visiting Pres-
ident Johnson. That delegation made it their business to
personally see and urge upon leading Republican statesmen
the wisdom and duty of impartial suffrage. Day after day,
Mr. Downing and myself saw and conversed with such mem-
bers of the Senate, whose advocacy of suffrage would be likely
to insure its success.
The second marked step in effecting the enfranchisement of
the negro, was made at the “National Loyalist's Convention,”
held at Philadelphia in September, 1866. This body was
composed of delegates from the South, North, and West. Its
object was, to diffuse clear views of the situation of affairs at
the South, and to indicate the principles deemed advisable by

NATIONAL CONVENTION. 395
it to be observed in the reconstruction of society in the South-
ern States.
This convention was, as its history shows, numerously at-
tended by the ablest and most influential men from all sections
of the country, and its deliberations participated in by them.
The policy foreshadowed by Andrew Johnson (who, by the
grace of the assassin's bullet, was then in Abraham Lincoln's
seat)–a policy based upon the idea that the rebel States were
never out of the union, and hence had forfeited no rights
which his pardon could not restore—gave importance to this
convention, more than anything which was then occurring at
the South; for through the treachery of this bold, bad man,
we seemed then about to lose nearly all that had been gained
by the war. -
I was residing in Rochester at the time, and was duly
elected as a delegate from that city to attend this convention.
The honor was a surprise and a gratification to me. It was
unprecedented for a city of over sixty thousand white citi-
zens and only about two hundred colored residents, to elect a
colored man to represent them in a national political conven-
tion, and the announcement of it gave a shock to the country
of no inconsiderable violence. Many Republicans, with every
feeling of respect for me personally, were unable to see the
wisdom of such a course. They dreaded the clamor of social
equality and amalgamation which would be raised against the
party, in consequence of this startling innovation. They, dear
fellows, found it much more agreeable to talk of the principles
of liberty as glittering generalities, than to reduce those prin-
ciples to practice.
When the train on which I was going to the convention
reached Harrisburgh, it met and was attached to another from
the West crowded with Western and Southern delegates on
the way to the convention, and among them were several loyal
Governors, chief among whom was the loyal Governor of
Indiana, Oliver P. Morton, a man of Websterian mould in
all that appertained to mental power. When my presence

396 URGED TO STAY OUT OF THE CONVENTION.
became known to these gentlemen, a consultation was imme-
diately held among them, upon the question as to what was
best to do with me. It seems strange now, in view of all the
progress which has been made, that such a question could
arise. But the circumstances of the times made me the Jonah
of the Republican ship, and responsible for the contrary winds
and misbehaving weather. Before we reached Lancaster, on
our eastward bound trip, I was duly waited upon by a committee
of my brother delegates, which had been appointed by other
honorable delegates, to represent to me the undesirableness
of my attendance upon the National Loyalist's Convention.
The spokesman of these sub-delegates was a gentleman from
New Orleans with a very French name, which has now escaped
me, but which I wish I could recall, that I might credit him
with a high degree of politeness and the gift of eloquence.
He began by telling me that he knew my history and my
works, and that he entertained a very high respect for me, that
both himself and the gentlemen who sent him, as well as
those who accompanied him, regarded me with admiration;
that there was not among them the remotest objection to sit-
ting in the convention with me, but their personal wishes in
the matter they felt should be set aside for the sake of our
common cause; that whether I should or should not go into
the convention was purely a matter of expediency; that I
must know that there was a very strong and bitter prejudice
against my race in the North as well as at the South; and
that the cry of social and political equality would not fail to be
raised against the Republican party if I should attend this loyal
national convention. He insisted that it was a time for the sac-
rifice of my own personal feeling, for the good of the Republican
cause; that there were several districts in the State of Indiana
so evenly balanced that a very slight circumstance would be
likely to turn the scale against us, and defeat our Congres-
sional candidates, and thus leave Congress without a two-
thirds vote to control the headstrong and treacherous man
then in the presidential chair. It was urged that this was a
terrible responsibility for me or any other man to take.


INDEPENDENT ANSWER. 397
I listened very attentively to this address, uttering no word
during its delivery; but when it was finished, I said to the
speaker and the committee, with all the emphasis I could
throw into my voice and manner: “Gentlemen, with all
respect, you might as well ask me to put a loaded pistol to my
head and blow my brains out, as to ask me to keep out of this
convention, to which I have been duly elected. Then, gentle-
men, what would you gain by this exclusion? Would not the
charge of cowardice, certain to be brought against you, prove
more damaging than that of amalgamation? Would you not
be branded all over the land as dastardly hypocrites, profess-
ing principles which you have no wish or intention of carrying
out? As a mere matter of policy or expediency, you will be
wise to let me in. Everybody knows that I have been duly
elected as a delegate by the city of Rochester. The fact has
been broadly announced and commented upon all over the
country. If I am not admitted, the public will ask, ‘Where is
Douglass? Why is he not seen in the convention?’ and you
would find that enquiry more difficult to answer than any
charge brought against you for favoring political or social
equality; but, ignoring the question of policy altogether, and
looking at it as one of right and wrong, I am bound to go into
that convention; not to do so, would contradict the principle
and practice of my life.” With this answer, the committee
retired from the car in which I was seated, and did not again
approach me on the subject; but I saw plainly enough then,
as well as on the morning when the Loyalist procession was
to march through the streets of Philadelphia, that while I was
not to be formally excluded, I was to be ignored by the Con-
vention.
I was the ugly and deformed child of the family, and to be
kept out of sight as much as possible while there was com.
pany in the house. Especially was it the purpose to offer me
no inducement to be present in the ranks of the procession of
its members and friends, which was to start from Indepen-
dence Hall on the first morning of its meeting. -

303 “A FRIEND IN NEED–A FRIEND INDEED.”
In good season, however, I was present at this grand start-
ing point. My reception there confirmed my impression as to
the policy intended to be pursued towards me. Few of the
many I knew were prepared to give me a cordial recognition,
and among these few I may mention Gen. Benj. F. Butler,
who, whatever others may say of him, has always shown
a courage equal to his convictions. Almost everybody else on
the ground whom I met seemed to be ashamed or afraid of
me. On the previous night I had been warned that I should
not be allowed to walk through the city in the procession;
fears had been expressed that my presence in it would so
shock the prejudices of the people of Philadelphia, as to cause
the procession to be mobbed.
The members of the convention were to walk two abreast,
and as I was the only colored member of the convention, the
question was, as to who of my brother members would consent
to walk with me? The answer was not long in coming.
There was one man present who was broad enough to take in
the whole situation, and brave enough to meet the duty of the
hour; one who was neither afraid nor ashamed to own me as
a man and a brother; one man of the purest Caucasian type,
a poet and a scholar, brilliant as a writer, eloquent as a
speaker, and holding a high and influential position—the
editor of a weekly journal having the largest circulation of
any weekly paper in the city or State of New York—and that
man was Mr. Theodore Tilton. He came to me in my isola-
tion, seized me by the hand in a most brotherly way, and pro-
pesed to walk with me in the procession.
I have been in many awkward and disagreeable positions in
my life, when the presence of a friend would have been highly
valued, but I think I never appreciated an act of courage and
generous sentiment more highly than I did of this brave young
man, when we marched through the streets of Philadelphia on
this memorable day. -
Well! what came of all these dark forebodings of timid
men? How was my presence regarded by the populace? and

PRINCIPLE TRIUMPHS OVER COWARDICE. 300
what effect did it produce? I will tell you. The fears of the
loyal Governors who wished me excluded to propitiate the
favor of the crowd, met with a signal reproof, their apprehen-
sions were shown to be groundless, and they were compelled,
as many of them confessed to me afterwards, to own them-
selves entirely mistaken. The people were more enlightened
and had made more progress than their leaders had supposed.
An act for which those leaders expected to be pelted with
stones, only brought to them unmeasured applause. Along
the whole line of march my presence was cheered repeatedly
and enthusiastically. I was myself utterly surprised by the
heartiness and unanimity of the popular approval. We were
marching through a city remarkable for the depth and bitter-
ness of its hatred of the abolition movement; a city whose
populace had mobbed anti-slavery meetings, burned temper-
ance halls and churches owned by colored people, and burned
down Pennsylvania Hall because it had opened its doors to
people of different colors upon terms of equality. But now
the children of those who had committed these outrages and
follies, were applauding the very principles which their fathers
had condemned. After the demonstrations of this first day,
I found myself a welcome member of the convention, and
cordial greeting took the place of cold aversion. The victory
was short, signal, and complete. -
During the passage of the procession, as we were marching
through Chestnut street, an incident occurred which excited
some interest in the crowd, and was noticed by the press at the
time, and may perhaps be properly related here as a part of
the story of my eventful life. It was my meeting Mrs.
Amanda Sears, the daughter of my old mistress, Miss Lucre-
tia Auld, the same Lucretia to whom I was indebted for
so many acts of kindness when under the rough treatment of
Aunt Katy, on the “old plantation home” of Col. Edward
Lloyd. Mrs. Sears now resided in Baltimore, and as I saw her
on the corner of Ninth and Chestnut streets, I hastily ran to
her, and expressed my surprise and joy at meeting her.
400 PLEASING INCIDENTS.
“But what brought you to Philadelphia at this time?” I
asked. She replied, with animated voice and countenance,
“I heard you were to be here, and I came to see you walk in
this procession.” The dear lady, with her two children, had
been following us for hours. Here was the daughter of the
owner of a slave, following with enthusiasm that slave as a
free man, and listening with joy to the plaudits he received as
he marched along through the crowded streets of the great
city. And here I may relate another circumstance which
should have found place earlier in this story, which will fur-
ther explain the feeling subsisting between Mrs. Sears and
myself.
Seven years prior to our meeting, as just described, I
delivered a lecture in National Hall, Philadelphia, and at its
close a gentleman approached me and said, “Mr. Douglass, do
you know that your once mistress has been listening to you
to-night 7” I replied that I did not, nor was I inclined to
believe it. The fact was, that I had four or five times before
had a similar statement made to me by different individuals
in different states, and this made me skeptical in this instance.
The next morning, however, I received a note from a Mr.
Wm. Needles, very elegantly written, which stated that she
who was Amanda Auld, daughter of Thomas and Lucretia
Auld, and granddaughter to my old master, Capt. Aaron
Anthony, was now married to Mr. John L. Sears, a coal mer-
chant in West Philadelphia. The street and number of Mr.
Sears's office was given, so that I might, by seeing him, assure
myself of the facts in the case, and perhaps learn something
of the relatives whom I left in slavery. This note, with the
intimation given me the night before, convinced me there was
something in it, and I resolved to know the truth. I had now
been out of slavery twenty years, and no word had come to
me from my sisters, or my brother Perry, or my grandmother.
My separation had been as complete as if I had been an
inhabitant of another planet. A law of Maryland at that
time visited with heavy fine and imprisonment any colored


MEETING WITH MISS AMANDA. 401
person who should come into the State; so I could not go
to them any more than they could come to me.
Eager to know if my kinsfolk still lived, and what was
their condition, I made my way to the office of Mr. Sears,
found him in, and handed him the note I had received from
Mr. Needles, and asked him to be so kind as to read it and tell
me if the facts were as there stated. After reading the note,
he said it was true, but he must decline any conversation with
me, since not to do so would be a sacrifice to the feelings of
his father-in-law. I deeply regretted his decision, and spoke
of my long separation from my relations, and appealed to him
to give me some information concerning them. I saw that my
words were not without their effect. Presently he said,
“You publish a newspaper, I believe?” “I do,” I said, “but
if that is your objection to speaking with me, no word shall
go into its columns of our conversation.” To make a long
story short, we had then quite a long conversation, during
which Mr. Sears said that in my “Narrative” I had done his
father-in-law injustice, for he was really a kind-hearted man,
and a good master. I replied that there must be two sides to
the relation of master and slave, and what was deemed kind
and just to the one was the opposite to the other. Mr. Sears
was not disposed to be unreasonable, and the longer we talked
the nearer we came together. I finally asked permission to
see Mrs. Sears, the little girl of seven or eight years when I
left the eastern shore of Maryland. This request was a little
too much for him at first, and he put me off by saying that
she was a mere child when I last saw her, and she was now
the mother of a large family of children, and I would not
know her. He could tell me everything about my people
as well as she. I pressed my suit, however, insisting that I
could select Miss Amanda out of a thousand other ladies, my
recollection of her was so perfect, and begged him to test my
memory at this point. After much parley of this nature, he
at length consented to my wishes, giving me the number of
his house and name of street, with permission to call at three

402 A HAPPY RECOGNITION.
o'clock P. M. on the next day. I left him delighted, and
prompt to the hour was ready for my visit. I dressed
myself in my best, and hired the finest carriage I could
get to take me, partly because of the distance, and partly to
make the contrast between the slave and the free man as
striking as possible. Mr. Sears had been equally thoughtful.
He had invited to his house a number of friends to witness
the meeting between Mrs. Sears and myself.
I was somewhat disconcerted when I was ushered into the
large parlors occupied by about thirty ladies and gentlemen,
to all of whom I was a perfect stranger. I saw the design to
test my memory by making it difficult for me to guess who of
the company was “Miss Amanda.” In her girlhood she was
small and slender, and hence a thin and delicately formed
lady was seated in a rocking chair near the center of the
room with a little girl by her side. The device was good, but
it did not succeed. Glancing around the room, I saw in an
instant the lady who was a child twenty-five years before, and
the wife and mother now. Satisfied of this, I said, “Mr.
Sears, if you will allow me, I will select Miss Amanda from
this company.” I started towards her, and she, seeing that
I recognized her, bounded to me with joy in every feature, and
expressed her great happiness at seeing me. All thought of
slavery, color, or what might seem to belong to the dignity of
her position vanished, and the meeting was as the meeting of
friends long separated, yet still present in each other's memory
and affection.
Amanda made haste to tell me that she agreed with me
about slavery, and that she had freed all her slaves as they
had become of age. She brought her children to me, and I
took them in my arms, with sensations which I could not if I
would stop here to describe. One explanation of the feeling
of this lady towards me was, that her mother, who died when
she was yet a tender child, had been briefly described by me
in a little “Narrative of my life,” published many years
before our meeting, and when I could have had no motive but

A TOUCHING INTERVIEW. 403
the highest for what I said of her. She had read my story,
and learned something of the amiable qualities of her mother
through me. She also recollected that as I had had trials as
a slave, she had had her trials under the care of a stepmother,
and that when she was harshly spoken to by her father's sec-
ond wife she could always read in my dark face the sympathy
of one who had often received kind words from the lips of her
beloved mother. Mrs. Sears died three years ago in Balti-
more, but she did not depart without calling me to her bed-
side, that I might tell her as much as I could about her
mother, whom she was firm in the faith that she should meet
in another and better world. She especially wished me to
describe to her the personal appearance of her mother, and
desired to know if any of her own children then present
resembled her. I told her that the young lady standing in
the corner of the room was the image of her mother in form
and features. She looked at her daughter and said, “Her
name is Lucretia—after my mother.” After telling me that
her life had been a happy one, and thanking me for coming to
see her on her death-bed, she said she was ready to die. We
parted to meet no more in life. The interview touched me
deeply, and was, I could not help thinking, a strange one—
another proof that “Truth is often stranger than Fiction.”
If any reader of this part of my life shall see in it the evi-
dence of a want of manly resentment for wrongs inflicted
upon myself and race by slavery, and by the ancestors of this
lady, so it must be. No man can be stronger than nature,
one touch of which, we are told, makes all the world alin. I
esteem myself a good, persistent hater of injustice and oppres-
sion, but my resentment ceases when they cease, and I have
no heart to visit upon children the sins of their fathers.
It will be noticed, when I first met Mr. Sears in Philadel-
phia, he declined to talk with me, on the ground that I had
been unjust to Capt. Auld, his father-in-law. Soon after that
meeting, Capt. Auld had occasion to go to Philadelphia, and,
as usual, went straight to the house of his son-in-law, and had

404 THE CONVENTION DIVIDED.
hardly finished the ordinary salutations, when he said: “Sears,
I see by the papers that Frederick has recently been in Phila-
delphia. Did you go to hear him?” “Yes, sir,” was the
reply. After asking something more about my lecture, he
said, “Well, Sears, did Frederick come to see you?” “Yes,
sir,” said Sears. “Well, how did you receive him?” Mr.
Sears then told him all about my visit, and had the satisfac-
tion of hearing the old man say that he had done right in
giving me welcome to his house. This last fact I have from
Rev. J. D. Long, who, with his wife, was one of the party
iſ ted to meet me at the house of Mr. Sears, on the occasion
of my visit to Mrs. Sears. -
But I must now return from this digression, and further
relate my experience in the Loyalist National Convention, and
how from that time there was an impetus given to the enfran-
chisement of the freedmen, which culminated in the fifteenth
amendment to the Constitution of the United States. From
the first, the members of the convention were divided in their
views of the proper measures of reconstruction, and this divi-
sion was in some sense sectional. The men from the far
South, strangely enough, were quite radical, while those from
the border States were mostly conservative, and, unhappily,
these last had control of the convention from the first. A
Kentucky gentleman was made President, and its other off-
cers were for the most part Kentuckians, and all opposed to
colored suffrage in sentiment. There was a “whole heap”
(to use a Kentucky phrase) of “halfness” in that State
during the war for the union, and there was much more there
after the war. The Maryland delegates, with the exception
of Hon. John L. Thomas, were in sympathy with Kentucky.
Those from Virginia, except Hon. John Miner Botts, were
unwilling to entertain the question. The result was, that the
convention was broken square in two. The Kentucky Presi-
dent declared it adjourned, and left the chair against the
earnest protests of the friends of manhood suffrage.
But the friends of this measure were not to be out-generaled

FREE SUFFRAGE TRIUMPHANT. 405
and suppressed in this way, and instantly reorganized, elected
John M. Botts of Virginia, President, discussed and passed
resolutions in favor of enfranchising the freedmen, and thus
placed the question before the country in such a manner that
it could not be ignored. The delegates from the Southern
States were quite in earnest, and bore themselves grandly in
support of the measure; but the chief speakers and advocates
of suffrage on that occasion were Mr. Theodore Tilton and
Miss Anna E. Dickinson. Of course, on such a question, I
could not be expected to be silent. I was called forward, and
responded with all the energy of my soul, for I looked upon
suffrage to the negro as the only measure which could prevent
him from being thrust back into slavery.
From this time onward the question of suffrage had no rest.
The rapidity with which it gained strength was more than
surprising to me.
In addition to the justice of the measure, it was soon com-
mended by events as a political necessity. As in the case of
the abolition of slavery, the white people of the rebellious
States have themselves to thank for its adoption. Had they
accepted, with moderate grace, the decision of the court to
which they appealed, and the liberal conditions of peace
offered to them, and united heartily with the national govern-
ment in its efforts to reconstruct their shattered institutions,
instead of sullenly refusing as they did, their counsel and
their votes to that end, they might easily have defeated the
argument based upon necessity for the measure. As it was,
the question was speedily taken out of the hands of colored
delegations and mere individual efforts, and became a part of
the policy of the Republican party; and President U. S. Grant,
with his characteristic nerve and clear perception of justice,
promptly recommended the great amendment to the Constitu-
tion by which colored men are to-day invested with complete
citizenship—the right to vote and to be voted for in the
American Republic.
CHAPTER XIV.
LIVING AND LEARNING.
Inducements to a political career–Objections—A newspaper enterprise—
The new National Era—Its abandonment—The Freedmen's Savings and
Trust Company—Sad experience—Windication.
HE adoption of the fourteenth and fifteenth amendments
and their incorporation into the Constitution of the
United States opened a very tempting field to my ambition,
and one to which I should probably have yielded, had I been a
younger man. I was earnestly urged by many of my respected
fellow-citizens, both colored and white and from all sections of
the country, to take up my abode in some one of the many dis-
tricts of the South where there was a large colored vote, and
get myself elected, as they were sure I easily could do, to a
seat in Congress—possibly in the Senate. That I did not
yield to this temptation was not entirely due to my age; for
the idea did not square well with my better judgment and
sense of propriety. The thought of going to live among a
people in order to gain their votes and acquire official honors,
was repugnant to my self-respect, and I had not lived long
enough in the political atmosphere of Washington to have
this sentiment sufficiently blunted to make me indifferent to
its suggestions. I do not deny that the arguments of my
friends had some weight in them, and from their stand-point
it was all right; but I was better known to myself than to
them. I had small faith in my aptitude as a politician, and
could not hope to cope with rival aspirants. My life and
labors in the North had in a measure unfitted me for such
work, and I could not readily have adapted myself to the
peculiar oratory found to be most effective with the newly
enfranchised class. In the New England and Northern

(406)

RESUMES THE EDITORSHIP. 407
atmosphere I had acquired a style of speaking which in the
South would have been considered tame and spiritless; and,
consequently, he who “could tear a passion to tatters and
split the ear of groundlings,” had far better chance of success
with the masses there, than one so little boisterous as myself.
Upon the whole, I have never regretted that I did not enter
the arena of Congressional honors to which I was invited.
Outside of mere personal considerations I saw, or thought I
saw, that in the nature of the case the sceptre of power had
passed from the old slave and rebellious States to the free and
loyal States, and that hereafter, at least for some time to
come, the loyal North, with its advanced civilization, must
dictate the policy and control the destiny of the republic. I
had an audience ready made in the free States; one which
the labors of thirty years had prepared for me, and before this
audience the freedmen of the South needed an advocate as
much as they needed a member of Congress. I think in this
I was right; for thus far our colored members of Congress
have not largely made themselves felt in the legislation of the
country; and I have little reason to think I could have done
any better than they.
I was not, however, to remain long in my retired home in
Rochester, where I had planted my trees and was reposing
under their shadows. An effort was being made about this
time to establish a large weekly newspaper in the city of
Washington, which should be devoted to the defence and
enlightenment of the newly emancipated and enfranchised
people; and I was urged by such men as George T. Downing,
J. H. Hawes, J. Sella Martin, and others, to become its editor-
in-chief. My sixteen years' experience as editor and publisher
of my own paper, and the knowledge of the toil and anxiety
which such a relation to a public journal must impose, caused
me much reluctance and hesitation: nevertheless, I yielded to
the wishes of my friends and counsellors, went to Washing-
tons threw myself into the work, hoping to be able to lift up a
standard at the national capital, for my people, which should

408 THE NEW NATIONAL ERA.
cheer and strengthen them in the work of their own improve.
ment and elevation.
I was not long connected with this enterprise, before I dis-
covered my mistake. The coöperation so liberally promised,
and the support which had been assured, were not very largely
realized. By a series of circumstances a little bewildering
as I now look back upon them, I found myself alone, under
the mental and pecuniary burden involved in the prosecu-
tion of the enterprise. I had been misled by loud talk of
a grand incorporated publishing company, in which I should
have shares if I wished, and in any case a fixed salary for
my services; and after all these fair-seeming conditions, I
had not been connected with the paper one year before its
affairs had been so managed by the agent appointed by
this invisible company or corporate body, as to compel me
to bear the burden alone, and to become the sole owner
of the printing establishment. Having become publicly
associated with the enterprise, I was unwilling to have it
prove a failure, and had allowed it to become in debt to me,
both for money loaned, and for services, and at last it seemed
wise that I should purchase the whole concern, which I did,
and turned it over to my sons Lewis and Frederic, who were
practical printers, and who, after a few years, were compelled
to discontinue its publication. This paper was the New
National Era, to the columns of which the colored people are
indebted for some of the best things ever uttered in behalf of
their cause; for, aside from its editorials and selections,
many of the ablest colored men of the country made it the
medium through which to convey their thoughts to the public.
A misadventure though it was, which cost me from nine to
ten thousand dollars, over it I have no tears to shed. The
journal was valuable while it lasted, and the experiment was
full of instruction to me, which has to some extent been
heeded, for I have kept well out of newspaper undertakings
since.
Some one has said that “experience is the best teacher."

THE FREEDMAN's BANK. 409
Unfortunately the wisdom acquired in one experience seems
not to serve for another and new one; at any rate, my first
lesson at the National Capital, bought rather dearly as it was,
did not preclude the necessity of a second whetstone to
sharpen my wits in this my new home and new surroundings.
It is not altogether without a feeling of humiliation that I
must narrate my connection with the “Freedmen's Savings
and Trust Company.”
This was an institution designed to furnish a place of
security and profit for the hard earnings of the colored people,
especially at the South. Though its title was “The Freed-
men's Savings and Trust Company,” it is known generally as
the “Freedmen's Bank.” According to its managers it was
to be this and something more. There was something mis-
sionary in its composition, and it dealt largely in exhortations
as well as promises. The men connected with its manage-
ment were generally church members, and reputed eminent
for their piety. Some of its agents had been preachers of the
“Word.” Their aim was now to instil into the minds of the
untutored Africans lessons of sobriety, wisdom, and economy,
and to show them how to rise in the world. Circulars, tracts,
and other papers were scattered like snowflakes in winter by
this benevolent institution among the sable millions, and they
were told to “look” to the Freedman’s Bank and “live.”
Branches were established in all the Southern States, and as
a result, money flowed into its vaults to the amount of mil-
lions. With the usual effect of sudden wealth, the managers
felt like making a little display of their prosperity. They
accordingly erected one of the most costly and splendid
buildings of the time on one of the most desirable and expen-
sive sites in the national capital, finished on the inside with
black walnut, and furnished with marble counters and all the
modern improvements. The magnificent dimensions of the
building bore testimony to its flourishing condition. In pass-
ing it on the street I often peeped into its spacious windows,
and looked down the row of its gentlemanly and elegantly

410 PRESIDENT OF FREEDMENs' BANK.
dressed colored clerks, with their pens behind their ears and
button-hole bouquets in their coat-fronts, and felt my very
eyes enriched. It was a sight I had never expected to see. I
was amazed with the facility with which they counted the
money; they threw off the thousands with the dexterity, if
not the accuracy, of old and experienced clerks. The whole
thing was beautiful. I had read of this Bank when I lived in
Rochester, and had indeed been solicited to become one of its
trustees, and had reluctantly consented to do so; but when I
came to Washington and saw its magnificent brown stone
front, its towering height, and its perfect appointments, and
the fine display it made in the transaction of its business, I
felt like the Queen of Sheba when she saw the riches of Solo-
mon, “the half had not been told me.”
After settling myself down in Washington in the office of
the New Era, I could and did occasionally attend the meetings
of the Board of Trustees, and had the pleasure of listening to
the rapid reports of the condition of the institution, which
were generally of a most encouraging character. My confi-
dence in the integrity and wisdom of the management was
such that at one time I had entrusted to its vaults about
twelve thousand dollars. It seemed fitting to me to cast in
my lot with my brother freedmen, and help to build up an
institution which represented their thrift and economy to so
striking advantage; for the more millions accumulated there,
I thought, the more consideration and respect would be shown
to the colored people of the whole country.
About four months before this splendid institution was
compelled to close its doors in the starved and deluded faces
of its depositors, and while I was assured by its President
and by its Actuary of its sound condition, I was solicited by
some of its trustees to allow them to use my name in the
board as a candidate for its Presidency. So I waked up one
morning to find myself seated in a comfortable arm chair,
with gold spectacles on my nose, and to hear myself addressed
as President of the Freedmen's Bank. I could not help

ITS TRUE INWARDNESS. 411
reflecting on the contrast between Frederick the slave boy,
running about at Col. Lloyd's with only a tow linen shirt to
cover him, and Frederick–President of a Bank counting its
assets by millions. I had heard of golden dreams, but such
dreams had no comparison with this reality. And yet this
seeming reality was scarcely more substantial than a dream.
My term of service on this golden height covered only the
brief space of three months, and these three months were
divided into two parts, during the first part of which I was
quietly employed in an effort to find out the real condition of
the Bank and its numerous branches. This was no easy task.
On paper, and from the representations of its management,
its assets amounted to three millions of dollars, and its liabil-
ities were about equal to its assets. With such a showing I
was encouraged in the belief that by curtailing expenses, doing
away with non-paying branches, which policy the trustees had
now adopted, we could be carried safely through the financial
distress then upon the country. So conſident was I of this,
that in order to meet what was said to be a temporary emer-
gency, I was induced to loan the Bank ten thousand dollars
of my own money, to be held by it until it could realize on a
part of its abundant securities. This money, though it was
repaid, was not done so promptly as under the supposed cir-
cumstances I thought it should be, and these circumstances
increased my fears lest the chasm was not so easily bridged
as the Actuary of the institution had assured me it could be.
The more I observed and learned the more my confidence
diminished. I found that those trustees who wished to issue
cards and publish addresses professing the utmost conſidence
in the Bank, had themselves not one dollar deposited there.
Some of them, while strongly assuring me of its soundness,
had withdrawn their money and opened accounts elsewhere.
Gradually I discovered that the Bank had sustained heavy
losses at the South through dishonest agents, that there was
a discrepancy on the books of forty thousand dollars, for
which no account could be given, that instead of our assets
being equal to our liabilities we could not in all likelihoods of

412 ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS.
the case pay seventy-two cents on the dollar. There was an
air of mystery, too, about the spacious and elegant apartments
of the Bank building which greatly troubled me, and which I
have only been able to explain to myself on the supposition
that the employees, from the Actuary and the Inspector down
to the messengers, were (perhaps) naturally anxious to hold
their places, and consequently have the business continued.
I am not a violent advocate of the doctrine of the total
depravity of human nature. I am inclined, on the whole, to
believe it a tolerably good nature, yet instances do occur
which oblige me to concede that men can and do act from
mere personal and selfish motives. In this case, at any rate,
it seemed not unreasonable to conclude that the finely dressed
young gentlemen, adorned with pens and bouquets, the most
fashionable and genteel of all our colored youth, stationed
behind those marble counters, should desire to retain their
places as long as there was money in the vaults to pay them
their salaries.
Standing on the platform of this large and complicated
establishment, with its thirty-four branches, extending from
New Orleans to Philadelphia, its machinery in full operation,
its correspondence carried on in cipher, its actuary dashing in
and out of the bank with an air of pressing business, if not of
bewilderment, I found the path of enquiry I was pursuing an
exceedingly difficult one. I knew ºthere had been very lately
several runs on the bank, and that there had been a heavy
draft made upon its reserve fund, but I did not know what I
should have been told before being allowed to enter upon the
duties of my office, that this reserve, which the bank by its
charter was required to keep, had been entirely exhausted,
and that hence there was nothing left to meet any future
emergency. Not to make too long a story, I was, in six
weeks after my election as president of this bank, convinced
that it was no longer a safe custodian of the hard earnings of
my confiding people. This conclusion once reached, I could
not hesitate as to my duty in the premises, and this was, to
save as much as possible of the assets held by the bank for

THE BANK CLOSED. 413
the benefit of the depositors; and to prevent their being fur-
ther squandered in keeping up appearances. and in paying the
salaries of myself and other officers in the bank. Fortunately,
Congress, from which we held our charter, was then in ses-
sion, and its committees on finance were in daily session. I
felt it my duty to make known as speedily as possible to Hon.
John Sherman, chairman of the Senate committee on finance,
and to Senator Scott of Pennsylvania, also of the same com-
mittee, that I regarded the institution as insolvent and irre-
coverable, and that I could no longer ask my people to deposit
their money in it. This representation to the finance com-
mittee subjected me to very bitter opposition on the part of
the officers of the bank. Its actuary, Mr. Stickney, immediately
summoned some of the trustees, a dozen or so of them, to go
before the finance committee and make a counter statement to
that made by me; and this they did. Some of them who had
assisted me by giving me facts showing the insolvency of the
bank, now made haste to contradict that conclusion and to
assure the committee that it was abundantly able to weather
the financial storm, and pay dollar for dollar to its depositors
if allowed to go on.
I was not exactly thunderstruck, but I was much amazed
by this contradiction. I, however, adhered to my statement
that the bank ought to stop. The finance committee substan-
tially agreed with me, and in a few weeks so legislated as to
bring this imposing banking business to a close by appointing
three commissioners to take charge of its affairs.
This is a fair and unvarnished narration of my connection
with the Freedmen's Savings and Trust Company, otherwise
known as the Freedmen's Savings Bank, a connection which
has brought upon my head an amount of abuse and detraction
greater than any encountered in any other part of my life.
Before leaving the subject I ought in justice to myself to state
that when I found that the affairs of the bank were to be
closed up, I did not, as I might easily have done, and as others
did, make myself a preferred creditor and take my money out
of the bank, but on the contrary, I determined to take my
414 FALSE APPEARANCES.
chances with other depositors, and left my money, to the
amount of two thousand dollars, to be divided with the assets
among the creditors of the bank. And now, after seven years
have been allowed for the value of the securities to appreciate
and the loss of interests on the deposits for that length of
time, the depositors may deem themselves fortunate if they
receive sixty cents on the dollar of what they placed in the
care of this fine savings institution. -
It is also due to myself to state, especially since I have seen
myself accused of bringing the Freedmen's Bank into ruin,
and squandering in senseless loans on bad security the hardly-
earned moneys of my race, that all the loans ever made by the
bank were made prior to my connection with it as its president.
Not a dollar, not a dime of its millions were loaned by me, or
with my approval. The fact is, and all investigation shows
it, that I was married to a corpse. The fine building was
there with its marble counters and black walnut finishings,
the affable and agile clerks, and the discreet and comely
colored cashier; but the LIFE, which was the money, was
gone, and I found that I had been placed there with the hope
that by “some drugs, some charms, some conjuration, or some
mighty magic.” I would bring it back.
When I became connected with the bank I had a tolerably
fair name for honest dealing; I had expended in the publica-
tion of my paper in Rochester thousands of dollars annually,
and had often to depend upon my credit to bridge over imme-
diate wants, but no man there or elsewhere can say I ever
wronged him out of a cent; and I could, to-day, with the con-
ſidence of the converted centurion, offer “to restore fourfold
to any from whom I have unjustly taken aught.” I say this, not
for the benefit of those who know me, but for the thousands of
my own race who hear of me mostly through the malicious
and envious assaults of unscrupulous aspirants who vainly
fancy that they lift themselves into consideration by wanton
attacks upon the characters of men who receive a larger share
of respect and esteem than themselves.



CHAPTER XV.
“WEIGHED IN THE BALANCE.”
IIE most of my story is now before the reader. What-
ever of good or ill the future may have in store for me,
the past at least is secure. As I review the last decade up to
the present writing, I am impressed with a sense of complete-
ness; a sort of rounding up of the arch to the point where the
key stone may be inserted, the scaffolding removed, and the
work, with all its perfections or faults, left to speak for itself.
This decade, from 1871 to 1881, has been crowded, if time is
capable of being thus described, with incidents and events
which may well enough be accounted remarkable. To me
they certainly appear strange, if not wonderful. My early life
not only gave no visible promise, but no hint of such experi-
rience. On the contrary, that life seemed to render it, in part
at least, impossible. In addition to what is narrated in the
foregoing chapter, I have to speak of my mission to Santo
Domingo, my appointment as a member of the council for the
government of the District of Columbia: my election as elector
at large for the State of New York; my invitation to speak at
the monument of the unknown loyal dead, at Arlington, on
Decoration day; my address on the unveiling of Lincoln mon-
ument, at Lincoln Park, Washington; my appointment to
bring the electoral vote from New York to the National Capi-
tal; my invitation to speak near the statue of Abraham Lin-
coln, Madison Square, New York; my accompanying the body
of Vice-President Wilson from Washington to Boston; my
conversations with Senator Sumner and President Grant; my
welcome to the receptions of Secretary Hamilton Fish; my
appointment by President R. B. Hayes to the office of Marshal
of the District of Columbia; my visit to Thomas Auld, the
(415)
416 SHALL SANTo Dom(INGO BE ANNEXED TO THE UNITED STATES.”
man who claimed me as his slave, and from whom I was pur-
chased by my English friends; and my visit to Lloyd's plan-
tation, the home of my childhood, after an absence of fifty-
six years; my appointment by President James A. Garfield to
the office of Recorder of Deeds of the District of Columbia,
are some of the matters which belong to this decade, and may
come into the chapter I am now about to write.
Those who knew of my more than friendly relations with
Hon. Charles Sumner, and of his determined opposition to the
annexation of Santo Domingo to the United States, were sur-
prised to find me earnestly taking sides with Gen. Grant upon
that question. Some of my white friends, and a few of those
of my own color—who, unfortunately, allow themselves to look
at public questions more through the medium of feeling than
of reason, and who follow the line of what is grateful to their
friends rather than what is consistent with their own convic-
tions—thought my course was an ungrateful return for the
eminent services of the Massachusetts senator. I am free to
say that, had I been guided only by the promptings of my
heart, I should in this controversy have followed the lead of
Charles Sumner. He was not only the most clearsighted,
brave, and uncompromising friend of my race who had ever
stood upon the floor of the Senate, but was to me a loved,
honored, and precious personal friend; a man possessing the
exalted and matured intellect of a statesman, with the pure
and artless heart of a child. Upon any issue, as between him
and others, when the right seemed in anywise doubtful, I
should have followed his counsel and advice. But the annex-
ation of Santo Domingo, to my understanding, did not seem
to be any such question. The reasons in its favor were many
and obvious; and those against it, as I thought, were easily
answered. To Mr. Sumner, annexation was a measure to ex-
tinguish a colored nation, and to do so by dishonorable means
and for selfish motives. To me it meant the alliance of a
weak and defenceless people, having few or none of the attri-
butes of a nation, torn and rent by internal feuds, unable to






DIFFERING FROM CHARLES SUMNER. 417
maintain order at home, or command respect abroad, to a
government which would give it peace, stability, prosperity,
and civilization, and make it helpful to both countries. To
favor annexation at the time when Santo Domingo asked for
a place in our union, was a very different thing from what it
was when Cuba and Central America were sought by fillibust-
ering expeditions. When the slave power bore rule, and a
spirit of injustice and oppression animated and controlled
every part of our government, I was for limiting our dominion
to the smallest possible margin; but since liberty and equality
have become the law of our land, I am for extending our
dominion whenever and wherever such extension can peace-
ably and honorably, and with the approval and desire o all
the parties concerned, be accomplished. Santo Domingo
wanted to come under our government upon the terms thus
described; and for more reasons than I can stop here to give,
I then believed, and do now believe, it would have been wise
to have received her into our sisterhood of States.
The idea that annexation meant degradation to a colored
nation, was altogether fanciful; there was no more dishonor
to Santo Domingo in making her a State of the American
union, than in making Kansas, Nebraska, or any other terri-
tory such a State. It was giving to a part the strength of the
whole, and lifting what must be despised for its isolation into
an organization and relationship which would compel consid-
eration and respect. -
Though I differed from Mr. Sumner in respect of this meas-
ure, and although I told him I thought he was unjust to Pres-
ident Grant, it never disturbed our friendship. After his
great speech against annexation, which occupied six hours in
its delivery, and in which he arraigned the President in a
most bitter and fierce manner, being at the White House one
day, I was asked by President Grant what I “now thought of
my friend Mr. Sumner.” I replied that I believed Mr. Sum-
ner sincerely thought, that in opposing annexation, he was
defending the cause of the colored race as he always had done,

418 THE OLD TIME AND THE NEW.
but that I thought he was mistaken. I saw my reply was not
very satisfactory, and said: “What do you, Mr. President, think
of Senator Sumner?” He answered, with some feeling, “I
think he is mad.” -
The difference in opinion on this question between these
two great men was the cause of bitter personal estrangement,
and one which I intensely regretted. The truth is, that
neither one was entirely just to the other, because neither saw
the other in his true character; and having once fallen
asunder, the occasion never came when they could be brought
together.
Variance between great men finds no healing influence in
the atmosphere of Washington. Interested parties are ever
ready to fan the flame of animosity and magnify the grounds
of hostility in order to gain the favor of one or the other.
This is perhaps true in some degree in every community; but
it is especially so of the National Capital, and this for the
reason that there is ever a large class of people here depend-
ent upon the influence and favor of powerful public men for
their daily bread.
My selection to visit Santo Domingo with the commission
sent thither, was another point indicating the difference be-
tween the OLD TIME and the NEW. It placed me on the deck
of an American man-of-war, manned by one hundred marines
and five hundred men-of-wars-men, under the national flag,
which I could now call mine, in common with other American
citizens, and gave me a place not in the fore-castle, among the
hands, nor in the caboose with the cooks, but in the captain's
saloon and in the society of gentlemen, scientists, and states-
men. It would be a pleasing task to narrate the varied expe-
riences and the distinguished persons encountered in this
Santo Domingo tour, but the material is too boundless for the
limits of these pages. I can only say, it was highly interest-
ing and instructive. The conversations at the Captain's table
(at which I had the honor of a seat) were usually led by
Messrs. Wade, Howe, and White—the three commissioners:

COMPANIONS ON THE VOYAGE. 419
and by Mr. Hurlburt of the New York World; the last-named
gentleman impressed me as one remarkable for knowledge
and refinement, in which he was no whit behind Messrs. Howe
and White. As for Hon. Benj. F. Wade, he was there, as
everywhere, abundant in knowledge and experience, fully able
to take care of himself in the discussion of any subject in
which he chose to take a part. In a circle so brilliant, it is
no affectation of modesty to say I was for the most part a
listener and a learner. The commander of our good ship on
this voyage, Capt. Temple, now promoted to the position of
Commodore, was a very imposing man, and deported himself
with much dignity towards us all. For his treatment to me I
am especially grateful. A son of the United States navy as
he was, a department of our service considerably distin-
guished for its aristocratic tendencies, I expected to find
something a little forbidding in his manner; but I am bound
to say that in this I was agreeably disappointed. Both the
commander and the officers under him bore themselves in a
friendly manner towards me during all the voyage, and this is
saying a great thing for them, for the spectacle presented by
a colored man seated at the captain's table was not only un-
usual, but had never before occurred in the history of the
United States navy. If during this voyage there was anything
to complain of, it was not in the men in authority, or in the
conduct of the thirty gentlemen who went out as the honored
guests of the expedition, but in the colored waiters. My pre-
sence and position seemed to trouble them for its incompre-
hensibility; and they did not know exactly how to deport
themselves towards me. Possibly they may have detected in
me something of the same sort in respect of themselves; at
any rate we seemed awkwardly related to each other during
several weeks of the voyage. In their eyes I was Fred. Doug-
lass suddenly, and possibly undeservedly, lifted above them.
The fact that I was colored and they were colored had so long
made us equal, that the contradiction now presented was too
much for them. After all, I have no blame for Sam and

420 PRESIDENT GRANT JUST AND IMPARTIAL.
Garrett. They were trained in the school of servility to be.
lieve that white men alone were entitled to be waited upon by
colored men; and the lesson taught by my presence on the
“Tennessee” was not to be learned upon the instant, without
thought and experience. I refer to the matter simply as an
incident quite commonly met with in the lives of colored men
who, by their own exertions or otherwise, have happened to
occupy positions of respectability and honor. While the rank
and file of our race quote with much vehemence the doctrine
of human equality, they are often among the first to deny and
denounce it in practice. Of course this is true only of the
more ignorant. Intelligence is a great leveler here as else-
where. It sees plainly the real worth of men and things, and
is not easily imposed upon by the dressed up emptiness of
human pride.
With a colored man on a sleeping car as its conductor, the
last to have his bed made up at night, and the last to have his
boots blacked in the morning, and the last to be served in any
way, is the colored passenger. This conduct is the homage
which the black man pays to the white man’s prejudice whose
wishes, like a well-trained servant, he is taught to anticipate
and obey. Time, education, and circumstances are rapidly
destroying these mere color distinctions, and men will be val-
ued in this country as well as in others, for what they are,
and for what they can do.
My appointment at the hands of President Grant to a seat
in the council—by way of eminence sometimes called the
upper house of the territorial legislature of the District of
Columbia—at the time it was made, must be taken as a signal
evidence of his high sense of justice, fairness, and impartiality.
The colored people of the district constituted then as now
about one-third of the whole population. They were given by
Gen. Grant, three members of this legislative council—a
representation more proportionate than any that has existed
since the government has passed into the hands of commis-
sioners, for they have all been white men.
| |
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COMMISSIONERS TO SANTO DOMINGO.
1.



DECORATION DAY AT ARLINGTON. 421
It has sometimes been asked why I am called “Honorable.”
My appointment to this council must explain this, as it ex-
plains the impartiality of Gen. Grant, though I fear it will
hardly sustain this prodigious handle to my name, as well as
it does the former part of this proposition. The members of
this district council were required to be appointed by the
President, with the advice and consent of the United States
Senate. This is the ground, and only ground that I know of,
upon which anybody has claimed this title for me. I do not
pretend that the foundation is a very good one, but as I have
generally allowed people to call me what they have pleased,
and as there is nothing necessarily dishonorable in this, I
have never taken the pains to dispute its application and pro-
priety; and yet I confess that I am never so spoken of with-
out feeling a trifle uncomfortable—about as much so as when
I am called, as I sometimes am, the Rev. Frederick Douglass.
My stay in this legislative body was of short duration. My
vocation abroad left me little time to study the many matters
of local legislation; hence my resignation, and the appoint-
ment of my son Lewis to fill out my term.
I have thus far told my story without copious quotations
from my letters, speeches, or other writings, and shall not
depart from this rule in what remains to be told, except to
insert here my speech, delivered at Arlington, near the monu-
ment to the “Unknown Loyal Dead,” on Decoration Day,
1871. It was delivered under impressive circumstances, in
presence of President Grant, his Cabinet, and a great multi-
tude of distinguished people, and expresses, as I think, the
true view which should be taken of the great conflict between
slavery and freedom to which it refers.
“Friends and Fellow Citizens: Tarry here for a moment. My words
shall be few and simple. The solemn rites of this hour and place call for
no lengthened speech. There is in the very air of this resting ground of
the unknown dead a silent, subtle, and an all-pervading eloquence, far more
touching, impressive, and thrilling than living lips have ever uttered. Into
the measureless depths of every loyal soul it is now whispering lessons of
all that is precious, priceless, holiest, and most enduring in human exist-
£nce,
422 UNKNOWN LOYAL DEAD.
“Dark and sad will be the hour to this nation when it forgets to pay grate.
ful homage to its greatest benefactors. The offering we bring to-day is due
alike to the patriot soldiers dead and their noble comrades who still live;
for whether living or dead, whether in time or eternity, the loyal soldiers
who imperiled all for country and freedom are one and inseparable.
“Those unknown heroes whose whitened bones have been piously gathered
here, and whose green graves we now strew with sweet and beautiful flow.
ers, choice emblems alike of pure hearts and brave spirits, reached in their
glorious career that last highest point of nobleness beyond which human
power cannot go. They died for their country.
“No loftier tribute can be paid to the most illustrious of all the benefactors
of mankind than we pay to these unrecognized soldiers, when we write
above their graves this shining epitaph.
“When the dark and vengeful spirit of slavery, always ambitious, prefer
ring to rule in hell than to serve in heaven, fired the Southern heart and
stirred all the malign elements of discord; when our great Republic, the
hope of freedom and self-government throughout the world, had reached
the point of supreme peril; when the Union of these States was torn and
rent asunder at the center, and the armies of a gigantic rebellion came
forth with broad blades and bloody hands to destroy the very foundation of
American society, the unknown braves who flung themselves into the yawn-
ing chasm, where cannon roared and bullets whistled, fought and fell
They died for their country. -
“We are sometimes asked, in the name of patriotism, to forget the merits
of this fearful struggle, and to remember with equal admiration those who
struck at the nation's life and those who struck to save it, -those who
fought for slavery and those who fought for liberty and justice.
“I am no minister of malice. I would not strike the fallen. I would not
repel the repentant, but may my “right hand forget her cunning, and my
tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth,” if I forget the difference between
the parties to that terrible, protracted, and bloody conflict.
“If we ought to forget a war which has filled our land with widows and
orphans, which has made stumps of men of the very flower of our youth;
sent them on the journey of life armless, legless, maimed and mutil
ated; which has piled up a debt heavier than a mountain of gold–swept
uncounted thousands of men into bloody graves, and planted agony at a
million hearthstones; I say if this war is to be forgotten, I ask in the name
of all things sacred what shall men remember?
“The essence and significance of our devotions here to-day are not to be
found in the fact that the men whose remains fill these graves were brave in
battle. If we met simply to show our sense of bravery, we should find
enough to kindle admiration on both sides. In the raging storm of fire and
blood, in the fierce torrent of shot and shell, of sword and bayonet, whether
on foot or on horse, unflinching courage marked the rebel not less than the
loyal soldier




-
pr:ESIDENT OF CONVENTION IN NEW ORLEANS. 423
“But we are not here to applaud manly courage, save as it has been dis-
played in a noble cause: We must never forget that victory to the rebellion
meant death to the republic. We must never forget that the loyal soldiers
who rest beneath this sod flung themselves between the nation and the
nation's destroyers. If to-day we have a country not boiling in an agony
of blood like France; if now we have a united country, no longer cursed
by the hell-black system of human bondage; if the American name is no
longer a by-word and a hissing to a mocking earth; if the star spangled
banner floats only over free American citizens in every quarter of the land,
and our country has before it a long and glorious career of justice, liberty,
and civilization, we are indebted to the unselfish devotion of the noble army
who rest in these honored graves all around us.”
In the month of April, 1872, I had the honor to attend and
preside over a National Convention of colored citizens, held in
New Orleans. It was a critical period in the history of the
Republican party, as well as in that of the country. Eminent
men who had hitherto been looked upon as the pillars of
Republicanism had become dissatisfied with President Grant's
administration, and determined to defeat his nomination for a
second term. The leaders in this unfortunate revolt were
Messrs. Trumbull, Schurz, Greeley, and Sumner. Mr. Schurz
had already succeeded in destroying the Republican party in
the State of Missouri, and it seemed to be his ambition to be
the founder of a new party, and to him more than to any other
man belongs the credit of what was once known as the Liberal
Republican party which made Horace Greeley its standard
bearer in the campaign of that year.
At the time of the Convention in New Orleans the elements
of this new combination were just coming together. The
division in the Republican ranks seemed to be growing deeper
and broader every day. The colored people of the country
were much affected by the threatened disruption, and their
leaders were much divided as to the side upon which they
should give their voice and their votes. The names of
Greeley and Sumner, on account of their long and earnest
advocacy of justice and liberty to the blacks, had powerful
attractions for the newly enfranchised class; and there was in
this Convention at New Orleans naturally enough a strong

424 ADVANCED POSITION OF NEW YORK STATE.
disposition to fraternize with the new party and follow the
lead of their old friends. Against this policy I exerted what-
ever influence I possessed, and, I think, succeeded in holding
back that Convention from what I felt sure then would have
been a fatal political blunder, and time has proved the cor-
rectness of that position. My speech on taking the chair on
that occasion was telegraphed from New Orleans in full to the
New York Herald, and the key-note of it was that there was
no path out of the Republican party that did not lead directly
into the Democratic party–away from our friends and directly
to our enemies. Happily this Convention pretty largely
agreed with me, and its members have not since regretted
that agreement.
From this Convention onward, until the nomination and
election of Grant and Wilson, I was actively engaged on the
stump, a part of the time in Virginia with Hon. Henry Wil.
son, in North Carolina with John M. Longston and John H.
Smyth, and in the State of Maine with Senator Hamlin, Gen.
B. F. Butler, Gen. Woodford, and Hon. James G. Blaine.
Since 1872 I have been regularly what my old friend Par-
ker Pillsbury would call a “field hand” in every important
political campaign, and at each National Convention have
sided with what has been called the stalwart element of the
Republican party. It was in the Grant Presidential campaign
that New York took an advanced step in the renunciation of
a timid policy. The Republicans of that State not having the
fear of popular prejudice before their eyes placed my name as
an Elector at large at the head of their Presidential ticket.
Considering the deep-rooted sentiment of the masses against
negroes, the noise and tumult likely to be raised, especially
among our adopted citizens of Irish descent, this was a bold
and manly proceeding, and one for which the Republicans of
the State of New York deserve the gratitude of every colored
citizen of the Republic, for it was a blow at popular prejudice
in a quarter where it was capable of making the strongest
resistance. The result proved not only the justice and gener-

REASONS FOR SUPPORTING GENERAL GRANT. 425
osity of the measure, but its wisdom. The Republicans car-
ried the State by a majority of fifty thousand over the heads
of the Liberal Republican and the Democratic parties com-
bined.
Equally significant of the turn now taken in the political
sentiment of the country, was the action of the Republican
Electoral College at its meeting in Albany, when it committed
to my custody the sealed up electoral vote of the great State
of New York, and commissioned me to bring that vote to the
National Capital. Only a few years before, any colored man
was forbidden by law to carry a United States mail bag from
one post-office to another. He was not allowed to touch the
sacred leather, though locked in “triple steel,” but now, not a
mail bag, but a document which was to decide the Presidential
question with all its momentous interests, was committed to
the hands of one of this despised class; and around him, in
the execution of his high trust, was thrown all the safeguards
provided by the Constitution and the laws of the land.
Though I worked hard and long to secure the nomination and
the election of Gen. Grant in 1872, I neither received nor
sought office under him. He was my choice upon grounds
altogether free from selfish or personal considerations. I
supported him because he had done all, and would do all, he
could to save not only the country from ruin, but the emanci-
pated class from oppression and ultimate destruction; and
because Mr. Greeley, with the Democratic party behind him,
would not have the power, even if he had the disposition, to
afford us the needed protection which our peculiar condition
required. I could easily have secured the appointment as
Minister to Hayti, but preferred to urge the claims of my
friend, Ebenezer Bassett, a gentleman and a scholar, and a
man well fitted by his good sense and amiable qualities to fill
the position with credit to himself and his country. It is with
a certain degree of pride that I am able to say that my opinion
of the wisdom of sending Mr. Bassett to Hayti has been fully
justified by the creditable manner in which, for eight years,
426 UNVEILING LINCOLN MONUMENT.
he discharged the difficult duties of that position; for I have
the assurance of Hon. Hamilton Fish, Secretary of State of
the United States, that Mr. Bassett was a good Minister. In
so many words, the ex-Secretary told me, that he “wished
that one-half of his ministers abroad performed their duties as
well as Mr. Bassett.” To those who knew Hon. Hamilton
Fish, this compliment will not be deemed slight, for few men
are less given to exaggeration and are more scrupulously
exact in the observance of law, and in the use of language,
than is that gentleman. While speaking in this strain of
complacency in reference to Mr. Bassett, I take pleasure also
in bearing my testimony based upon knowledge obtained at
the State Department, that Mr. John Mercer Langston, the
present Minister to Hayti, has acquitted himself with equal
wisdom and ability to that of Mr. Bassett in the same position.
Having known both these gentlemen in their youth, when the
one was at Yale, and the other at Oberlin College, and wit-
nessed their efforts to qualify themselves for positions of use-
fulness, it has afforded me no limited satisfaction to see them
rise in the world. Such men increase the faith of all in the
possibilities of their race, and make it easier for those who
are to come after them.
The unveiling of Lincoln Monument in Lincoln Park, Wash-
ington, April 14th, 1876, and the part taken by me in the
ceremonies of that grand occasion, takes rank among the
most interesting incidents of my life, since it brought me into
mental communication with a greater number of the influen-
tial and distinguished men of the country than any I had
before known. There were present the President of the
United States and his Cabinet, Judges of the Supreme Court,
the Senate and House of Representatives, and many thousands
of citizens to listen to my address upon the illustrious man in
whose memory the colored people of the United States had, as
a mark of their gratitude, erected that impressive monument.
Occasions like this have done wonders in the removal of popu-
lar prejudice, and in lifting into consideration the colored




PALL-BEARER AT WILSON'S FUNERAL. 427
race; and I reckon it one of the high privileges of my life,
that I was permitted to have a share in this and several other
like celebrations.
The progress of a nation is sometimes indicated by small
things. When Henry Wilson, an honored Senator and Vice-
President of the United States, died in the capitol of the
nation, it was a significant and telling indication of national
advance, when three colored citizens, Mr. Robert Purvis, Mr.
James Wormley, and myself, were selected with the Senate com-
mittee, to accompany his honored remains from Washington
to the grand old commonwealth he loved so well, and whom
in turn she had so greatly loved and honored. It was meet
and right that we should be represented in the long procession
that met those remains in every State between here and Mas-
sachusetts, for Henry Wilson was among the foremost friends
of the colored race in this country, and this was the first time
in its history when a colored man was made a pall-bearer at
the funeral, as I was in this instance, of a Vice-President of
the United States.
An appointment to any important and lucrative office under
the United States government, usually brings its recipient a
large measure of praise and congratulation on the one hand,
and much abuse and disparagement on the other; and he may
think himself singularly fortunate if the censure does not ex-
ceed the praise. I need not dwell upon the causes of this
extravagance, but I may say there is no office of any value in
the country which is not desired and sought by many persons
equally meritorious and equally deserving. But as only one
person can be appointed to any one office, only one can be
pleased, while many are offended; unhappily, resentment fol-
lows disappointment, and this resentment often finds expres-
sion in disparagement and abuse of the successful man. As
in most else I have said, I borrow this reflection from my
own experience.
My appointment as United States Marshal of the District
of Columbia, was in keeping with the rest of my life, as a
428 APPOINTMENT SUPPORTED BY SENATOR CONKLING.
freeman. It was an innovation upon long established usage,
and opposed to the general current of sentiment in the com-
munity. It came upon the people of the District as a gross
surprise, and almost a punishment; and provoked something
like a scream—I will not say a yell—of popular displeasure.
As soon as I was named by President Hayes for the place,
efforts were made by members of the bar to defeat my confir-
mation before the Senate. All sorts of reasons against my
appointment, but the true one, were given, and that was with-
held more from a sense of shame, than from a sense of justice.
The apprehension doubtless was, that if appointed marshal, I
would surround myself with colored deputies, colored bailiffs,
colored messengers, and pack the jury box with colored
jurors; in a word, Africanize the courts. But the most
dreadful thing threatened, was a colored man at the Evecutive
Mansion in white kid gloves, sparrow-tailed coat, patent
leather boots, and alabaster cravat, performing the ceremony
—a very empty one—of introducing the aristocratic citizens
of the republic to the President of the United States. This
was something entirely too much to be borne; and men asked
themselves in view of it, to what is the world coming? and
where will these things stop? Dreadful! Dreadful!
It is creditable to the manliness of the American Senate,
that it was moved by none of these things, and that it lost no
time in the matter of my confirmation. I learn, and believe
my information correct, that foremost among those who sup-
ported my confirmation against the objections made to it, was
Hon. Roscoe Conkling of New York. His speech in executive
session is said by the senators who heard it, to have been one of
the most masterly and eloquent ever delivered on the floor of
the Senate; and this too I readily believe, for Mr. Conkling
possesses the ardor and fire of Henry Clay, the subtlety of
Calhoun, and the massive grandeur of Daniel Webster.
The effort to prevent my confirmation having failed, noth-
ing could be done but to wait for some overt act to justify my
removal; and for this my unfriends had not long to wait. In




“our NATIONAL CAPITAL.” AT BALTIMORE. 429
the course of one or two months I was invited by a number of
citizens of Baltimore to deliver a lecture in that city in Doug-
lass Hall—a building named in honor of myself, and devoted
to educational purposes. With this invitation I complied,
giving the same lecture which I had two years before delivered
in the city of Washington, and which was at the time pub-
lished in full in the newspapers, and very highly commended
by them. The subject of the lecture was, “Our National Cap-
ital,” and in it I said many complimentary things of the city,
which were as true as they were complimentary. I spoke of
what it had been in the past, what it was at that time, and
what I thought it destined to become in the future; giving it
all credit for its good points, and calling attention to some of
its ridiculous features. For this I got myself pretty roughly
handled. The newspapers worked themselves up to a frenzy
of passion, and committees were appointed to procure names
to a petition to President Hayes demanding my removal.
The tide of popular feeling was so violent, that I deemed it
necessary to depart from my usual custom when assailed, so
far as to write the following explanatory letter, from which
the reader will be able to measure the extent and quality of
my offense: - -
“To the Editor of the Washington Evening Star:
“Sir:-You were mistaken in representing me as being off on a lecturing
tour, and, by implication, neglecting my duties as United States Marshal of
the District of Columbia. My absence from Washington during two days
was due to an invitation by the managers to be present on the occasion of
the inauguration of the International Exhibition in Philadelphia.
“In complying with this invitation, I found myself in company with other
members of the government who went thither in obedience to the call of
patriotism and civilization. No one interest of the Marshal's office suffered
by my temporary absence, as I had seen to it that those upon whom the
duties of the office devolved were honest, capable, industrious, painstaking,
and faithful. My Deputy Marshal is a man every way qualified for his
position, and the citizens of Washington may rest assured that no unfaithful
man will be retained in any position under me. Of course I can have noth-
ing to say as to my own fitness for the position I hold. You have a right
to say what you please on that point; yet I think it would be only fair and
Sºmerous to wait for some dereliction of duty on my part before I shall be
adjudged as incompetent to fill the place.
430 THE LECTURE CRITICIZED.
“You will allow me to say also that the attacks upon me on account of
the remarks alleged to have been made by me in Baltimore, strike me as
both malicious and silly. Washington is a great city, not a village nor a
Lamlet, but the capital of a great nation, and the manners and habits of its
various classes are proper subjects for presentation and criticism, and I very
much mistake if this great city can be thrown into a tempest of passion by
any humorous reflections I may take the liberty to utter. The city is too
great to be small, and I think it will laugh at the ridiculous attempt to
rouse it to a point of furious hostility to me for anything said in my Balti-
more lecture.
“Had the reporters of that lecture been as careful to note what I said in
praise of Washington as what I said, if you please, in disparagement of it,
it would have been impossible to awaken any feeling against me in this
community for what I said. It is the easiest thing in the world, as all edi-
tors know, to pervert the meaning and give a one-sided impression of a
whole speech by simply giving isolated passages from the speech itself,
without any qualifying connections. It would hardly be imagined from
anything that has appeared here that I had said one word in that lecture in
honor of Washington, and yet the lecture itself, as a whole, was decidedly
in the interest of the national capital. I am not such a fool as to decry a
city in which I have invested my money and made my permanent residence.
“After speaking of the power of the sentiment of patriotism I held this
language: “In the spirit of this noble sentiment I would have the American
people view the national capital. It is our national center. It belongs to
us; and whether it is mean or majestic, whether arrayed in glory or covered
with shame, we cannot but share its character and its destiny. In the
remotest section of the republic, in the most distant parts of the globe,
amid the splendors of Europe or the wilds of Africa, we are still held and
firmly bound to this common center. Under the shadow of Bunker Hill
monument, in the peerless eloquence of his diction, I once heard the great
Daniel Webster give welcome to all American citizens, assuring them that
wherever else they might be strangers, they were all at home there. The
same boundless welcome is given to all American citizens by Washington.
Elsewhere we may belong to individual States, but here we belong to the
whole United States. Elsewhere we may belong to a section, but here we
belong to a whole country, and the whole country belongs to us. It is
national territory, and the one place where no American is an intruder or a
carpet-bagger. The new comer is not less at home than the old resident.
Under its lofty domes and stately pillars, as under the broad blue sky, all
races and colors of men stand upon a footing of common equality.
“‘The wealth and magnificenee which elsewhere might oppress the hum-
ble citizen has an opposite effect here. They are felt to be a part of himself
and serve to ennoble him in his own eyes. He is an owner of the marble
grandeur which he beholds about him, as much so as any of the forty
millions of this great nation. Once in his life every American who can


The LECTURE DEFENDED. 431
should visit Washington: not as the Maiometan to Mecca; not as the Cath-
olic to Rome; not as the Hebrew to Jerusalem, nor as the Chinaman to the
Flowery kingdom, but in the spirit of enlightened patriotism, knowing the
value of free institutions and how to perpetuate and maintain them.
“‘Washington should be contemplated not merely as an assemblage of
fine buildings; not merely as the chosen resort of the wealth and fashion of
the country; not merely as the honored place where the statesmen of the
nation assemble to shape the policy and frame the laws; not merely as the
point at which we are most visibly touched by the outside world, and
where the diplomatic skill and talent of the old continent meet and match
themselves against those of the new, but as the national flag itself—a glori-
ous symbol of civil and religious liberty, leading the world in the race of
social science, civilization, and renown.”
“My lecture in Baltimore required more than an hour and a half for its
delivery, and every intelligent reader will see the difficulty of doing justice
to such a speech when it is abbreviated and compressed into a half or three-
quarters of a column. Such abbreviation and condensation has been
resorted to in this instance. A few stray sentences, called out from their
connections, would be deprived of much of their harshness if presented in
the form and connection in which they were uttered; but I am taking up
too much space, and will close with the last paragraph of the lecture, as
delivered in Baltimore. No city in the broad world has a higher or more
beneficent mission. Among all the great capitals of the world it is pre-
eminently the capital of free institutions. Its fall would be a blow to free-
dom and progress throughout the world. Let it stand then where it does
now stand—where the father of his country planted it, and where it has
stood for more than half a century; no longer sandwiched between two
slave States; no longer a contradiction to human progress; no longer the
hot-bed of slavery and the slave trade; no longer the home of the duelist,
the gambler, and the assassin; no longer the frantic partisan of one section
of the country against the other; no longer anchored to a dark and semi-
barbarous past, but a redeemed city, beautiful to the eye and attractive to
the heart, a bond of perpetual union, an angel of peace on earth and good
will to men, a common ground upon which Americans of all races and col-
ors, all sections, North and South, may meet and shake hands, not over a
chasm of blood, but over a free, united, and progressive republic.’”
I have already alluded to the fact that much of the opposi-
tion to my appointment to the office of United States Marshal
of the District of Columbia was due to the possibility of my
being called to attend President Hayes at the Executive Man-
sion upon state occasions, and having the honor to introduce
the guests on such occasions. I now wish to refer to
reproaches liberally showered upon me for holding the office
432 DUTIES OF MARSHAL.
of Marshal while denied this distinguished honor, and to show
that the complaint against me at this point is not a well
founded complaint.
1st. Because the office of United States Marshal is distinct
and separate and complete in itself, and must be accepted or
refused upon its own merits. If, when offered to any person,
its duties are such as he can properly fulfill, he may very
properly accept it; or, if otherwise, he may as properly refuse
it.
2d. Because the duties of the office are clearly and
strictly defined in the law by which it was created; and
because nowhere among these duties is there any mention
or intimation that the Marshal may or shall attend upon the
President of the United States at the Executive Mansion on
state occasions.
3d. Because the choice as to who shall have the honor and
privilege of such attendance upon the President belongs exclu-
sively and reasonably to the President himself, and that there-
fore no one, however distinguished, or in whatever office, has
any just cause to complain of the exercise by the President of
this right of choice, or because he is not himself chosen.
In view of these propositions, which I hold to be indisput-
able, I should have presented to the country a most foolish
and ridiculous figure had I, as absurdly counseled by some of
my colored friends, resigned the office of Marshal of the Dis-
trict of Columbia, because President Rutherford B. Hayes, for
reasons that must have been satisfactory to his judgment, pre-
ferred some person other than myself to attend upon him at
the Executive Mansion and perform the ceremony of introduc-
tion on state occasions. But it was said, that this statement
did not cover the whole ground; that it was customary for the
United States Marshal of the District of Columbia to perform
this social office; and that the usage had come to have almost
the force of law. I met this at the time, and I meet it now
by denying the binding force of this custom. No former
President has any right or power to make his example the


ETIQUETTE AT THE WHITE HOUSE. 433
rule for his successor. The custom of inviting the Marshal
to do this duty was made by a President, and could be as pro-
perly unmade by a President. Besides, the usage is altogether
a modern one, and had its origin in peculiar circumstances,
and was justified by those circumstances. It was introduced
in time of war by President Lincoln when he made his old
law partner and intimate acquaintance Marshal of the Dis-
trict, and was continued by Gen. Grant when he appointed a
relative of his, Gen. Sharp, to the same office. But again it
was said that President Hayes only departed from this custom
because the Marshal in my case was a colored man. The
answer I made to this, and now make to it, is, that it is a
gratuitous assumption and entirely begs the question. It
may or may not be true that my complexion was the cause of
this departure, but no man has any right to assume that posi-
tion in advance of a plain declaration to that effect by Presi-
dent Hayes himself. Never have I heard from him any such
declaration or intimation. In so far as my intercourse with
him is concerned, I can say that I at no time discovered in him
a feeling of aversion to me on account of my complexion, or
on any other account, and, unless I am greatly deceived, I
was ever a welcome visitor at the Executive Mansion on state
occasions and all others, while Rutherford B. Hayes was
President of the United States. I have further to say that I
have many times during his administration had the honor to
introduce distinguished strangers to him, both of native and
foreign birth, and never had reason to feel myself slighted by
himself or his amiable wife; and I think he would be a very
unreasonable man who could desire for himself, or for any
other, a larger measure of respect and consideration than this
at the hands of a man and woman occupying the exalted posi-
tions of Mr. and Mrs. Hayes.
I should not do entire justice to the Honorable ex-President
if I did not bear additional testimony to his noble and gener-
ous spirit. When all Washington was in an uproar, and a
wild clamor rent the air for my removal from the office of

434 OFFICE OF MARSHAL, A PLEASANT ONE.
Marshal on account of the lecture delivered by me in Balti-
more, when petitions were flowing in upon him demanding my
degradation, he nobly rebuked the mad spirit of persecution
by openly declaring his purpose to retain me in my place.
One other word. During the tumult raised against me in
consequence of this lecture on the “National Capital,” Mr.
Columbus Alexander, one of the old and wealthy citizens of
Washington, who was on my bond for twenty thousand dol-
lars, was repeatedly besought to withdraw his name, and thus
leave me disqualified; but like the President, both he and my
other bondsman, Mr. George Hill, Jr., were steadfast and
immovable. I was not surprised that Mr. Hill stood bravely
by me, for he was a Republican; but I was surprised and
gratified that Mr. Alexander, a Democrat, and, I believe, once
a slaveholder, had not only the courage, but the magnanimity
to give me fair play in this fight. What I have said of these
gentlemen, can be extended to very few others in this commu-
nity, during that period of excitement, among either the white
or colored citizens, for, with the exception of Dr. Charles B.
Purvis, no colored man in the city uttered one public word in
defence or extenuation of me or of my Baltimore speech.
This violent hostility kindled against me was singularly
evanescent. It came like a whirlwind, and like a whirlwind
departed. I soon saw nothing of it, either in the courts
among the lawyers, or on the streets among the people; for it
was discovered that there was really in my speech at Balti-
more nothing which made me “worthy of stripes or of bonds.”
I can say from my experience in the office of United States
Marshal of the District of Columbia, it was every way agree-
able. When it was an open question whether I should take
the office or not, it was apprehended and predicted if I should
accept it in face of the opposition of the lawyers and judges
of the courts, I should be subjected to numberless suits for
damages, and so vexed and worried that the office would be
rendered valueless to me; that it would not only eat up my
salary, but possibly endanger what little I might have laid up
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MARSHAL AT THE INAUGURATION OF P



ACCEPTABLE TO JUDGES AND COURTS. 435
for a rainy day. I have now to report that this apprehension
was in no sense realized. What might have happened had the
members of the District bar been half as malicious and spite-
ful as they had been industriously represented as being, or if
I had not secured as my assistant a man so capable, industri-
ous, vigilant, and careful as Mr. L. P. Williams, of course I
cannot know. But I am bound to praise the bridge that
carries me safely over it. I think it will ever stand as a wit-
ness to my fitness for the position of Marshal, that I had the
wisdom to select for my assistant a gentleman so well in-
structed and competent. I also take pleasure in bearing
testimony to the generosity of Mr. Phillips, the assistant Mar-
shal who preceded Mr. Williams in that office, in giving the
new assistant valuable information as to the various duties he
would be called upon to perform. I have further to say of my
experience in the Marshal's office, that while I have reason
to know that the eminent Chief Justice of the District of
Columbia and some of his associates were not well pleased
with my appointment, I was always treated by them, as well
as by the chief clerk of the courts, Hon. J. R. Meigs, and the
subordinates of the latter (with a single exception), with the
respect and consideration due to my office. Among the emi-
nent lawyers of the District I believe I had many friends, and
there were those of them to whom I could always go with
confidence in an emergency for sound advice and direction,
and this fact, after all the hostility felt in consequence of my
appointment, and revived by my speech at Baltimore, is
another proof of the vincibility of all feeling arising out of
popular prejudices.
In all my forty years of thought and labor to promote the
freedom and welfare of my race, I never found myself more
widely and painfully at variance with leading colored men of
the country, than when I opposed the effort to set in motion a
wholesale exodus of colored people of the South to the North-
ern States; and yet I never took a position in which I felt
myself better fortified by reason and necessity. It was said

436 THE EXODUS MOVEMENT.
of me, that I had deserted to the old master class, and that I
was a traitor to my race; that I had run away from slavery
myself, and yet I was opposing others in doing the same.
When my opponents condescended to argue, they took the
ground that the colored people of the South needed to be
brought into contact with the freedom and civilization of the
North; that no emancipated and persecuted people ever had
or ever could rise in the presence of the people by whom they
had been enslaved, and that the true remedy for the ills which
the freedmen were suffering, was to initiate the Israelitish
departure from our modern Egypt to a land abounding, if not
in “milk and honey,” certainly in pork and hominy.
Influenced, no doubt, by the dazzling prospects held out to
them by the advocates of the exodus movement, thousands of
poor, hungry, naked, and destitute colored people were in-
duced to quit the South amid the frosts and snows of a dread-
ful winter in search of a better country. I regret to say there
was something sinister in this so-called exodus, for it trans-
pired that some of the agents most active in promoting it had
an understanding with certain railroad companies, by which
they were to receive one dollar per head upon all such pas-
sengers. Thousands of these poor people, traveling only so
far as they had money to bear their expenses, were dropped
on the levees of St. Louis, in the extremest destitution; and
their tales of woe were such as to move a heart much less
sensitive to human suffering than mine. But while I felt for
these poor deluded people, and did what I could to put a stop
to their ill-advised and ill-arranged stampede, I also did what
I could to assist such of them as were within my reach, who
were on their way to this land of promise. Hundreds of these
people came to Washington, and at one time there were from
two to three hundred lodged here, unable to get further for
the want of money. I lost no time in appealing to my friends
for the means of assisting them. Conspicuous among these
friends was Mrs. Elizabeth Thompson of New York city—the
lady who, several years ago, made the nation a present of

WHY OPPOSED TO IT. 437
Carpenter's great historical picture of the “Signing of the
Emancipation Proclamation,” and who has expended large
sums of her money in investigating the causes of yellow-fever,
and in endeavors to discover means for preventing its ravages
in New Orleans and elsewhere. I found Mrs. Thompson con-
sistently alive to the claims of humanity in this, as in other
instances, for she sent me, without delay, a draft for two hun-
dred and fifty dollars, and in doing so expressed the wish that
I would promptly inform her of any other opportunity of doing
good. How little justice was done me by those who accused
me of indifference to the welfare of the colored people of the
South on account of my opposition to the so-called exodus
will be seen by the following extracts from a paper on that
subject laid before the Social Science Congress at Saratoga,
when that question was before the country:
“Important as manual labor is everywhere, it is nowhere more important
and absolutely indispensable to the existence of society than in the more
southern of the United States. Machinery may continue to do, as it has
done, much of the work of the North, but the work of the South requires
bone, sinew, and muscle of the strongest and most enduring kind for its
performance. Labor in that section must know no pause. Her soil is
pregnant and prolific with life and energy. All the forces of nature within
her borders are wonderfully vigorous, persistent, and active. Aided by an
almost perpetual summer abundantly supplied with heat and moisture, her
soil readily and rapidly covers itself with noxious weeds, dense forests,
and impenetrable jungles. Only a few years of non-tillage would be
needed to give the sunny and fruitful South to the bats and owls of a deso-
late wilderness. From this condition, shocking for a southern man to con-
template, it is now seen that nothing less powerful than the naked iron arm
of the negro, can save her. For him as a Southern laborer, there is no
competitor or substitute. The thought of filling his place by any other
variety of the human family, will be found delusive and utterly impractica-
ble. Neither Chinaman, German, Norwegian, nor Swede can drive him
from the sugar and cotton fields of Louisiana and Mississippi. They would
certainly perish in the black bottoms of these states if they could be in-
duced, which they cannot, to try the experiment.
“Nature itself, in those States, comes to the rescue of the negro, fights his
battles, and enables him to exact conditions from those who would unfairly
treat and oppress him. Besides being dependent upon the roughest and
flintiest kind of labor, the climate of the South makes such labor uninviting
4.38 THE SOUTH NEEDS THE NEGRO.
and harshly repulsive to the white man. He dreads it, shrinks from it, and
refuses it. He shuns the burning sun of the fields and seeks the shade of the
verandas. On the contrary, the negro walks, labors, and sleeps in the sun-
light unharmed. The standing apology for slavery was based upon a
knowledge of this fact. It was said that the world must have cotton and sugar,
and that only the negro could supply this want; and that he could be induced
to do it only under the “beneficent whip” of some bloodthirsty Legree. The
last part of this argument has been happily disproved by the large crops of
these productions since Emancipation; but the first part of it stands firm,
unassailed and unassailable. -
“Even if climate and other natural causes did not protect the negro from
all competition in the labor-market of the South, inevitable social causes
would probably effect the same result. The slave system of that section
has left behind it, as in the nature of the case it must, manners, customs,
and conditions to which free white laboring men will be in no haste to sub-
mit themselves and their families. They do not emigrate from the free
North, where labor is respected, to a lately enslaved South, where labor has
been whipped, chained, and degraded for centuries. Naturally enough
such emigration follows the lines of latitude in which they who compose it
were born. Not from South to North, but from East to West ‘the Star of
Empire takes its way.”
“Hence it is seen that the dependence of the planters, land-owners, and old
master-class of the South upon the negro, however galling and humiliating
to Southern pride and power, is nearly complete and perfect. There is
only one mode of escape for them, and that mode they will certainly not
adopt. It is to take off their own coats, cease to whittle sticks and talk
politics at cross-roads, and go themselves to work in their broad and sunny
fields of cotton and sugar. An invitation to do this is about as harsh and
distasteful to all their inclinations as would be an invitation to step down
into their graves. With the negro, all this is different. Neither natural,
artificial, or traditional causes stand in the way of the freedman to labor in
the South. Neither the heat nor the fever-demon which lurks in her tangled
and oozy swamps affright him, and he stands to-day the admitted author of
whatever prosperity, beauty, and civilization are now possessed by the
South, and the admitted arbiter of her destiny.
“This then, is the high vantage ground of the negro; he has labor; the
South wants it, and must have it or perish. Since he is free he can now give
it or withhold it, use it where he is, or take it elsewhere as he pleases. His
labor made him a slave, and his labor can, if he will, make him free, com-
fortable, and independent. It is more to him than fire, swords, ballot-boxes,
or bayonets. It touches the heart of the South through its pocket. This
power served him well years ago, when in the bitterest extremity of desti-
tution. But for it, he would have perished when he dropped out of slavery.
It saved him then, and it will save him again. Emancipation came to him,
surrounded by extremely unfriendly circumstances. It was not the choice


SENATOR SUMNER's SPEECH. 439
or consent of the people among whom he lived, but against their will, and
a death struggle on their part to prevent it. His chains were broken in the
tempest and whirlwind of civil war. Without food, without shelter, with-
out land, without money, and without friends, he with his children, his
sick, his aged and helpless ones, were turned loose and naked to the open
sky. The announcement of his freedom was instantly followed by an order
from his master to quit his old quarters, and to seek bread thereafter from
the hands of those who had given him his freedom. A desperate extremity
was thus forced upon him at the outset of his freedom, and the world
watched with humane anxiety, to see what would become of him. His
peril was imminent. Starvation and death stared him in the face and
marked him for their victim.
“It will not soon be forgotten that at the close of a five hours' speech by
the late Senator Sumner, in which he advocated with unequaled learning
and eloquence the enfranchisement of the freedmen, the best argument with
which he was met in the Senate, was that legislation at that point would be
utterly superfluous; that the negro was rapidly dying out, and must inevi-
tably and speedily disappear and become extinct.
“Inhuman and shocking as was this consignment of millions of human
beings to extinction, the extremity of the negro, at that date, did not con-
tradict, but favored, the prophecy. The policy of the old master-class
dictated by passion, pride, and revenge, was then to make the freedom of
the negro, a greater calamity to him, if possible, than had been his slavery.
But happily, both for the old master-class, and for the recently emancipated,
there came then, as there will come now, the sober second thought. The
old master-class then found it had made a great mistake. It had driven
away the means of its own support. It had destroyed the hands, and left
the mouths. It had starved the negro, and starved itself. Not even to
gratify its own anger and resentment could it afford to allow its fields to go
uncultivated, and its tables unsupplied with food. Hence the freedman,
less from humanity than cupidity, less from choice than necessity, was
speedily called back to labor and life.
“But now, after fourteen years of service, and fourteen years of separation
from the visible presence of slavery, during which he has shown both dis-
position and ability to supply the labor market of the South, and that he
could do so far better as a freedman than he ever did as a slave; that more
cotton and sugar can be raised by the same hands, under the inspiration of
liberty and hope, than can be raised under the influence of bondage and
the whip, he is again, alas! in the deepest trouble; again without a home,
out under the open sky, with his wife and little ones. He lines the Sunny
banks of the Mississippi, fluttering in rags and wretchedness, mournfully
imploring hard-hearted Steamboat Captains to take him on board; while
the friends of the emigration movement are diligently soliciting funds all
. *North to help him away from his old home to the new Canaan of
ansas,

440 THE CONDITION TO-DAY BETTER THAN IN THE PAST.
I am sorry to be obliged to omit the statement which here
follows, of the reasons given for the Exódus movement, and
my explanation of them, but from want of space I can present
only such portions of the paper as express most vividly and
in fewest words, my position in regard to the question. I go
on to say:
“Bad as is the condition of the negro to-day at the South, there was a
time when it was flagrantly and incomparably worse. A few years ago he
had nothing—he had not even himself. He belonged to somebody else,
who could dispose of his person and his labor as he pleased. Now he has
himself, his labor, and his right to dispose of one and the other as shall best
suit his own happiness. He has more. He has a standing in the supreme
law of the land—in the Constitution of the United States—not to be
changed or affected by any conjunction of circumstances likely to occur in
the immediate or remote future. The Fourteenth Amendment makes him
a citizen and the Fifteenth makes him a voter. With power behind him, at
work for him, and which cannot be taken from him, the negro of the South
may wisely bide his time. The situation at the moment is exceptional and
transient. The permanent powers of the government are all on his side.
What though for the moment the hand of violence strikes down the negro's
rights in the South, those rights will revive, survive, and flourish again.
They are not the only people who have been, in a moment of popular pas-
sion, maltreated aud driven from the polls. The Irish and Dutch have fre-
quently been so treated. Boston, Baltimore, and New York have been the
scenes of lawless violence; but those scenes have now disappeared. . . . .
Without abating one jot of our horror and indignation at the outrages com-
mitted in some parts of the Southern States against the negro, we cannot but
regard the present agitation of an African exodus from the South as ill-timed
and in some respects hurtful. We stand to day at the beginning of a grand
and beneficent reaction. There is a growing recognition of the duty and obli-
gation of the American people to guard, protect, and defend the personal and
political rights of all the people of all the States; to uphold the principles
upon which rebellion was suppressed, slavery abolished, and the country
saved from dismemberment and ruin. -
“We see and feel to-day, as we have not seen and felt before, that the
time for conciliation and trusting to the honor of the late rebels and slave-
holders has passed. The President of the United States himself, while still
liberal, just, and generous toward the South, has yet sounded a halt in that
direction, and has bravely, firmly, and ably asserted the constitutional
authority to maintain the public peace in every State in the Union, and upon
every day in the year, and has maintained this ground against all the pow-
ers of House and Senate.
“We stand at the gateway of a marked and decided change in the states:

GOVERNMENT MUST ENFORCE THE CONSTITUTION. 441
manship of our rulers. Every day brings fresh and increasing evidence that
we are, and of right ought to be, a nation; that Confederate notions of the
nature and powers of our government ought to have perished in the rebel-
lion which they supported; that they are anachronisms and superstitions
and no longer fit to be above ground. . . . .
“At a time like this, so full of hope and courage, it is unfortunate that a
cry of despair should be raised in behalf of the colored people of the South;
unfortunate that men are going over the country begging in the name of
the poor colored man of the South, and telling the people that the govern-
ment has no power to enforce the Constitution and laws in that section, and
that there is no hope for the poor negro but to plant him in the new soil of
Kansas or Nebraska. -
“These men do the colored people of the South a real damage. They
give their enemies an advantage in the argument for their manhood and
freedom. They assume their inability to take care of themselves. The
country will be told of the hundreds who go to Kansas, but not of the
thousands who stay in Mississippi and Louisiana.
“It will be told of the destitute who require material aid, but not of the
multitude who are bravely sustaining themselves where they are.
“In Georgia the negroes are paying taxes upon six millions of dollars; in
Louisiana upon forty or fifty millions; and upon unascertained sums else-
where in the Southern States. -
“Why should a people who have made such progress in the course of a
few years be humiliated and scandalized by exodus agents, begging money
to remove them from their homes? especially at a time when every indica-
tion favors the position that the wrongs and hardships which they suffer are
soon to be redressed?
“Besides the objection thus stated, it is manifest that the public and
noisy advocacy of a general stampede of the colored people from the South to
the North is necessarily an abandonment of the great and paramount prin-
ciple of protection to person and property in every State in the Union. It
is an evasion of a solemn obligation and duty. The business of this nation
is to protect its citizens where they are, not to transport them where they
will not need protection. The best that can be said of this exodus in this
respect is, that it is an attempt to climb up some other way; it is an expedi-
ent, a half-way measure, and tends to weaken in the public mind a sense of
absolute right, power, and duty of the government, inasmuch as it concedes
by implication at least, that on the soil of the South the law of the land
cannot command obedience, the ballot-box cannot be kept pure, peaceable
elections cannot be held, the Constitution cannot be enforced, and the lives
and liberties of loyal and peaceable citizens cannot be protected. It is a
surrender, a premature disheartening surrender, since it would secure free-
dom and free institutions by migration rather than by protection; by flight
rather than by right; by going into a strange land rather than by staying in
* own. It leaves the whole question of equal rights on the soil of the
442 THE SOUTH THE HOME OF THE FREEDMEN.
South open and still to be settled, with the moral influence of exodus
against us; since it is a confession of the utter impracticability of equal
rights and equal protection in any State where those rights may be struck
down by violence.
“It does not appear that the friends of freedom should spend either time
or talent in furtherance of this exodus, as a desirable measure, either for the
North or the South. If the people of this country cannot be protected in
every State of the Union, the government of the United States is shorn of
its rightful dignity and power, the late rebellion has triumphed, the sover-
eignty of the nation is an empty name, and the power and authority in
individual States is greater than the power and authority of the United
“The colored people of the South, just beginning to accumulate a little
property, and to lay the foundation of family, should not be in haste to sell
that little and be off to the banks of the Mississippi. The habit of roaming
from place to place in pursuit of better conditions of existence is never a
good one. A man should never leave his home for a new one till he has
earnestly endeavored to make his immediate surroundings accord with his
wishes. The time and energy expended in wandering from place to place,
if employed in making him a comfortable home where he is, will, in nine
cases out of ten, prove the best investment. No people ever did much for
themselves or for the world without the sense and inspiration of native land,
of a fixed home, of familiar neighborhood and common associations. The
fact of being to the manner born has an elevating power upon the mind and
heart of a man. It is a more cheerful thing to be able to say I was born
here and know all the people, than to say I am a stranger here and know
none of the people.
“It cannot be doubted that in so far as this exodus tends to promote rest-
lessness in the colored people of the South, to unsettle their feeling of home,
and to sacrifice positive advantages where they are, for fancied ones in Kan-
sas or elsewhere, it is an evil. Some have sold their little homes, their
chickens, mules, and pigs, at a sacrifice, to follow the exodus. Let it be
understood that you are going, and you advertise the fact that your mule
has lost half its value; for your staying with him makes half his value.
Let the colored people of Georgia offer their six millions' worth of property
for sale, with the purpose to leave Georgia, and they will not realize half its
value. Land is not worth much where there are no people to occupy it,
and a mule is not worth much where there is no one to drive him.
“It may be safely asserted that whether advocated and commended to
favor on the ground that it will increase the political power of the Republi-
can party, and thus help to make a solid North against a solid South, or
upon the ground that it will increase the power and influence of the colored
people as a political element, and enable them the better to protect their
rights, and insure their moral and social elevation, the exodus will prove a
disappointment, a mistake, and a failure; because, as to strengthening the
--



THE EXODUs A LESSON TO THE SOUTH, 443
Republican party, the emigrants will go only to those States where the
Republican party is strong and solid enough already with their votes; and
in respect to the other part of the argument, it will fail because it takes col.
ored voters from a section of the country where they are sufficiently numer-
ous to elect some of their number to places of honor and profit, and places
them in a country where their proportion to other classes will be so small
as not to be recognized as a political element or entitled to be represented by
one of themselves. And further, because go where they will, they must
for a time inevitably carry with them poverty, ignorance, and other repul-
sive incidents, inherited from their former condition as slaves—a circum-
stance which is about as likely to make votes for Democrats as for
Republicans, and to raise up bitter prejudice against them as to raise up
friends for them. . . .
“Plainly enough, the exodus is less harmful as a measure than are the argu-
ments by which it is supported. The one is the result of a feeling of outrage
and despair; but the other comes of cool, selfish calculation. One is the
result of honest despair, and appeals powerfully to the sympathies of men;
the other is an appeal to our selfishness, which shrinks from doing right
because the way is difficult.
“Not only is the South the best locality for the negro, on the ground of his
political powers and possibilities, but it is best for him as a field of labor.
He is there, as he is nowhere else, an absolute necessity. He has a mon-
opoly of the labor market. His labor is the only labor which can success-
fully offer itself for sale in that market. This fact, with a little wisdom and
firmness, will enable him to sell his labor there on terms more favorable to
himself than he can elsewhere. As there are no competitors or substitutes
he can demand living prices with the certainty that the demand will be
complied with. Exodus would deprive him of this advantage. - -
“The negro, as already intimated, is preeminently a Southern man. He is
so both in constitution and habits, in body as well as mind. He will not
only take with him to the North, southern modes of labor, but southern
modes of life. The careless and improvident habits of the South cannot be
set aside in a generation. If they are adhered to in the North, in the fierce
Winds and snows of Kansas and Nebraska, the emigration must be large to
keep up their numbers. - - - - - -
“Asanassertion of power by a people hitherto held in bitter contempt, as
an emphatic and stinging protest against high-handed, greedy, and shameless
injustice to the weak and defenceless, as a means of opening the blind eyes
of oppressors to their folly and peril, the exodus has done valuable service.
Whether it has accomplished all of which it is capable in this direction, for
the present is a question which may well be considered. With a moderate
degree of intelligent leadership among the laboring class of the South, prop-
erly handling the justice of their cause, and wisely using the exodus ex-
ample, they can easily exact better terms for their labor than ever before.
Exodus is medicine, not food; it is for disease, not health; it is not to be
444 THE RIGHT TO GO OR STAY MUST BE ASSURED.
taken from choice, but necessity. In anything like a normal condition of
things, the South is the best place for the negro. Nowhere else is there for
him a promise of a happier future. Let him stay there if he can, and save
both the South and himself to civilization. While, however, it may be the
highest wisdom in the circumstances for the freedmen to stay where they
are, no encouragement should be given to any measures of coercion to keep
them there. The American people are bound, if they are or can be bound
to anything, to keep the north gate of the South open to black and white
and to all the people. The time to assert a right, Webster says, is when it
is called in question. If it is attempted by force or fraud to compel the
colored people to stay there, they should by all means go-go quickly, and
die if need be in the attempt.” - - - - -


CHAPTER XVI.
* TIME MAKES ALL THINGS EVEN.”
Return to the “old master”—A last interview—Capt. Auld's admission
“had I been in your place, I should have done as you did"—Speech at
Easton–The old jail there—Invited to a sail on the revenue cutter
Guthrie–Hon. John L. Thomas–Visit to the old plantation—Home of Col.
Lloyd–Kind reception and attentions—Familiar scenes–Old memories-
Burial-ground–Hospitality—Gracious reception from Mrs. Buchanan–A
little girl's floral gift–A promise of a “good time coming”—Speech at
Harper's Ferry, Decoration day, 1881 – Storer College–Hon. A. J.
Hunter.
HE leading incidents to which it is my purpose to call
attention and make prominent in the present chapter,
will, I think, address the imagination of the reader with
peculiar and poetic force, and might well enough be drama-
tized for the stage. They certainly afford another striking
illustration of the trite saying, that “truth is stranger than
fiction.” -
The first of these events occurred four years ago, when,
after a period of more than forty years, I visited and had an
interview with Captain Thomas Auld, at St. Michaels, Talbot
County, Maryland. It will be remembered by those who have
followed the thread of my story, that St. Michaels was at one
time the place of my home, and the scene of some of my sad-
dest experiences of slave life; and that I left there, or, rather,
was compelled to leave there, because it was believed that I
had written passes for several slaves to enable them to escape
from slavery, and that prominent slaveholders in that neigh-
borhood had, for this alleged offense, threatened to shoot me
on sight, and to prevent the execution of this threat, my
master had sent me to Baltimore.
My return, therefore, to this place, in peace, among the
(445)
446 VISIT TO CAPTAIN THOMAS AULD.
same people, was strange enough of itself, but that I should,
when there, be formally invited by Capt. Thomas Auld, then
over eighty years old, to come to the side of his dying bed,
evidently with a view to a friendly talk over our past relations,
was a fact still more strange, and one which, until its occur-
rence, I could never have thought possible. To me, Capt.
Auld had sustained the relation of master—a relation which I
had held in extremest abhorrence, and which, for forty years,
I had denounced in all bitterness of spirit and fierceness of
speech. He had struck down my personality, had subjected
me to his will, made property of my body and soul, reduced
me to a chattel, hired me out to a noted slave breaker to be
worked like a beast and flogged into submission; he had taken
my hard earnings, sent me to prison, offered me for sale,
broken up my Sunday-school, forbidden me to teach my fellow
slaves to read on pain of nine and thirty lashes on my bare
back; he had sold my body to his brother Hugh, and pocketed
the price of my flesh and blood without any apparent disturb-
ance of his conscience. I, on my part, had traveled through
the length and breadth of this country and of England, hold-
ing up this conduct of his in common with that of other slave-
holders to the reprobation of all men who would listen to my
words. I had made his name and his deeds familiar to the
World by my writings in four different languages, yet here we
were after four decades once more face to face—he on his bed,
aged and tremulous, drawing near the sunset of life, and I,
his former slave, United States Marshal of the District of
Columbia, holding his hand and in friendly conversation with
him, in a sort of final settlement of past differences, prepara-
tory to his stepping into his grave, where all distinctions are
at an end, and where the great and the small, the slave and
his master, are reduced to the same level. Had I been asked
in the days of slavery to visit this man, I should have regarded
the invitation as one to put fetters on my ankles and hand-
cuffs on my wrists. It would have been an invitation to the
auction-block and the slave whip. I had no business with


LAST AND TOUCHING INTERVIEW. 447
this man under the old regime but to keep out of his way.
But now that slavery was destroyed, and the slave and the
master stood upon equal ground, I was not only willing to
meet him, but was very glad to do so. The conditions were
favorable for remembrance of all his good deeds, and generous
extenuation of all his evil ones. He was to me no longer a
slaveholder either in fact or in spirit, and I regarded him as
I did myself, a victim of the circumstances of birth, education,
law, and custom.
Our courses had been determined for us, not by us. We
had both been flung, by powers that did not ask our consent,
upon a mighty current of life, which we could neither resist
nor control. By this current he was a master, and I a slave;
but now our lives were verging towards a point where differ-
ences disappear, where even the constancy of hate breaks
down, where the clouds of pride, passion, and selfishness van-
ish before the brightness of infinite light. At such a time,
and in such a place, when a man is about closing his eyes on
this world and ready to step into the eternal unknown, no
word of reproach or bitterness should reach him or fall from
his lips; and on this occasion there was to this rule no trans-
gression on either side. -
As this visit to Capt. Auld has been made the subject of
mirth by heartless triflers, and regretted as a weakening of
my life-long testimony against slavery, by serious-minded men,
and as the report of it, published in the papers immediately
after it occurred, was in some respects defective and colored,
it may be proper to state exactly what was said and done at
this interview.
It should in the first place be understood that I did not go
to St. Michaels upon Capt. Auld's invitation, but upon that of
my colored friend, Charles Caldwell; but when once there,
Capt. Auld sent Mr. Green, a man in constant attendance
upon him during his sickness, to tell me he would be Very
glad to see me, and wished me to accompany Green to his
house, with which request I complied. On reaching the house

448 THE SLAVE AND HIS MASTER FRIENDS.
I was met by Mr. Wm. H. Bruff, a son-in-law of Capt. Auld,
and Mrs. Louisa Bruff, his daughter, and was conducted by
them immediately to the bed-room of Capt. Auld. We ad-
dressed each other simultaneously, he calling me “Marshal
Douglass,” and I, as I had always called him, “Captain Auld.”
Hearing myself called by him “Marshal Douglass,” I instantly
broke up the formal nature of the meeting by saying, “not
Marshal, but Frederick to you as formerly.” We shook
hands cordially, and in the act of doing so, he, having been
long stricken with palsy, shed tears as men thus afflicted
will do when excited by any deep emotion. The sight of
him, the changes which time had wrought in him, his tremu-
lous hands constantly in motion, and all the circumstances
of his condition affected me deeply, and for a time choked my
voice and made me speechless. We both, however, got the
better of our feelings, and conversed freely about the past.
Though broken by age and palsy, the mind of Capt. Auld
was remarkably clear and strong. After he had become com-
posed I asked him what he thought of my conduct in running
away and going to the north. He hesitated a moment as if
to properly formulate his reply, and said: “Frederick, I
always knew you were too smart to be a slave, and had I been
in your place I should have done as you did.” I said, “ Capt.
Auld, I am glad to hear you say this. I did not run away from
you, but from slavery; it was not that I loved Ceasar less, but
Rome more.” I told him that I had made a mistake in my nar-
rative, a copy of which I had sent him, in attributing to him
ungrateful and cruel treatment of my grandmother; that I
had done so on the supposition that in the division of the
property of my old master, Mr. Aaron Anthony, my grand-
mother had fallen to him, and that he had left her in her old
age, when she could be no longer of service to him, to pick
up her living in solitude with none to help her, or in other
words had turned her out to die like an old horse. “Ah!”
he said, “that was a mistake, ‘I never owned your grandmother;
she in the division of the slaves was awarded to my brother-

CAPTAIN AULD’s DEATH. 449
in-law, Andrew Anthony ; but,” he added quickly, “I brought
her down here and took care of her as long as she lived.”
The fact is, that after writing my narrative describing the
condition of my grandmother, Capt. Auld's attention being
thus called to it, he rescued her from her destitution. I told
him that this mistake of mine was corrected as soon as I dis-
covered it, and that I had at no time any wish to do him in-
justice; that I regarded both of us as victims of a system.
* Oh, I never liked slavery,” he said, “ and I meant to eman-
cipate all of my slaves when they reached the age of twenty-
five years.” I told him I had always been curious to know
how old I was, that it had been a serious trouble to me, not
to know when was my birthday. He said he could not tell
me that, but he thought I was born in February, 1818. This date
made me one year younger than I had supposed myself from
what was told me by Mistress Lucretia, Captain Auld's former
wife, when I left Lloyd's for Baltimore in the Spring of 1825;
she having then said that I was eight, going on nine. I know
that it was in the year 1825 that I went to Baltimore, because
it was in that year that Mr. James Beacham built a large
frigate at the foot of Alliceana street, for one of the South
American Governments. Judging from this, and from certain
events which transpired at Col. Lloyd's, such as a boy without
any knowledge of books, under eight years old, would hardly
take cognizance of, I am led to believe that Mrs. Lucretia was
nearer right as to my age than her husband.
Before I left his bedside Captain Auld spoke with a cheer-
ful confidence of the great change that awaited him, and felt
himself about to depart in peace. Seeing his extreme weak-
ness I did not protract my visit. The whole interview did
not last more than twenty minutes, and we parted to meet no
more. His death was soon after announced in the papers,
and the fact that he had once owned me as a slave was cited
as rendering that event noteworthy.
It may not, perhaps, be quite artistic to speak in this con-
*tion of another incident of something of the same nature

450 Easton AND its Associations.
as that which I have just narrated, and yet it quite naturally
finds place here; and that is, my visit to the town of Easton,
county seat of Talbot County, two years later, to deliver an
address in the Court House, for the benefit of some associa-
tion in that place. This visit was made interesting to me, by
the fact that forty-five years before I had, in company with
Henry and John Harris, been dragged to Easton behind
horses, with my hands tied, put in jail, and offered for sale,
for the offense of intending to run away from slavery.
It may easily be seen that this visit, after this lapse of time,
brought with it feelings and reflections such as only unusual
circumstances can awaken. There stood the old jail, with
its white-washed walls and iron gratings, as when in my
youth I heard its heavy locks and bolts clank behind me.
Strange too, Mr. Joseph Graham, who was then Sheriff of
the County, and who locked me in this gloomy place, was still
living, though verging towards eighty, and was one of the
gentlemen who now gave me a warm and friendly welcome,
and was among my hearers when I delivered my address at
the Court House. There too in the same old place stood Sol.
Law’s Tavern, where once the slave traders were wont to
congregate, and where I now took up my abode and was
treated with a hospitality and consideration undreamed of as
possible by me in the olden time.
When one has advanced far in the journey of life, when
he has seen and traveled over much of this great world, and
has had many and strange experiences of shadow and sun-
shine, when long distances of time and space have come
between him and his point of departure, it is natural that his
thoughts should return to the place of his beginning, and that
he should be seized with a strong desire to revisit the scenes
of his early recollection, and live over in memory the inci-
dents of his childhood. At least such for several years had
been my thoughts and feeling in respect of Col. Lloyd's plan-
tation on Wye River, Talbot County, Maryland; for I had
never been there since I left it, when eight years old, in 1825.

VISIT TO THE EASTERN SHORE. 451
While slavery continued, of course this very natural desire
could not be safely gratified; for my presence among slaves
was dangerous to the public peace, and could no more be tol.
erated than could a wolf among sheep, or fire in a magazine.
But now that the results of the war had changed all this, I
had for several years determined to return to my old home
upon the first opportunity. Speaking of this desire of mine
last winter, to Hon. John L. Thomas, the efficient collector
at the port of Baltimore, and a leading Republican of the
State of Maryland, he urged me very much to go, and added
that he often took a trip to the eastern shore in his Revenue
Cutter, Guthrie, (otherwise known in time of war as the
Ewing,) and would be much pleased to have me accompany
him on one of these trips. I expressed some doubt as to how
such a visit would be received by the present Col. Edward
Lloyd, now proprietor of the old place, and grandson of Gov-
ernor Ed. Lloyd whom I remembered. Mr. Thomas promptly
assured me that from his own knowledge I need have no
trouble on that score. Mr. Lloyd was a liberal minded gentle-
man, and he had no doubt would take a visit from me very
kindly. I was very glad to accept the offer. The opportu-
nity for the trip however did not occur till the 12th of June,
and on that day, in company with Messrs. Thomas, Thompson,
and Chamberlain, on board the Cutter, we started for the con-
templated visit. In four hours after leaving Baltimore, we
Were anchored in the River off the Lloyd estate, and from the
deck of our vessel I saw once more the stately chimneys of
the grand old mansion which I had last seen from the deck
of the Sallie Lloyd when a boy. I left there as a slave, and
returned as a freeman: I left there unknown to the outside
World, and returned well known: I left there on a freight
boat and returned on a Revenue Cutter: I left on a vessel
belonging to Col. Edward Lloyd, and returned on one belong-
ing to the United States.
As soon as we had come to anchor, Mr. Thomas despatched
* * to Col. Edward Lloyd, announcing my presence on

452 KIND RECEPTION FROM THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN.
board his Cutter, and inviting him to meet me, informing him
it was my desire, if agreeable to him, to revisit my old home.
In response to this note, Mr. Howard Lloyd, a son of Col.
Lloyd, a young gentleman of very pleasant address, came on
board the Cutter, and was introduced to the several gentlemen
and myself.
He told us that his father was gone to Easton on business,
expressed his regret at his absence, hoped he would return
before we should leave, and in the meantime received us cor-
dially and invited us ashore, escorted us over the grounds, and
gave us as hearty a welcome as we could have wished. I hope
I shall be pardoned for speaking of this incident with much
complacency. It was one which could happen to but few men,
and only once in the life time of any. The span of human
life is too short for the repetition of events which occur at the
distance of fifty years. That I was deeply moved, and greatly
affected by it, can be easily imagined. Here I was, being wel-
comed and escorted by the great grandson of Colonel Edward
Lloyd–a gentleman I had known well 56 years before, and
whose form and features were as vividly depicted on my
memory as if I had seen him but yesterday. He was a gen
tleman of the olden time, elegant in his apparel, dignified in
his deportment, a man of few words and of weighty presence;
and I can easily conceive that no Governor of the State of
Maryland ever commanded a larger measure of respect than
did this great grandfather of the young gentleman now before
me. In company with Mr. Howard was his little brother
Decosa, a bright boy of eight or nine years, disclosing his
aristocratic descent in the lineaments of his face, and in all his
modest and graceful movements. As I looked at him I could
not help the reflections naturally arising from having seen so
many generations of the same family on the same estate. I
had seen the elder Lloyd, and was now walking around with the
youngest member of that name. In respect to the place itself,
I was most agreeably surprised to find that time had dealt so
gently with it, and that in all its appointments it was so little

EVERYTHING MUCH THE SAME. 453
-
changed from what it was when I left it, and from what I
have elsewhere described it. Very little was missing except
the squads of little black children which were once seen in all
directions, and the great number of slaves on its fields. Col.
Lloyd's estate comprised twenty-seven thousand acres, and the
home-farm seven thousand. In my boyhood sixty men were
employed in cultivating the home farm alone. Now, by the
aid of machinery, the work is accomplished by ten men. I
found the buildings, which gave it the appearance of a village,
nearly all standing, and I was astonished to find that I had
carried their appearance and location so accurately in my
mind during so many years. There was the long quarter,
the quarter on the hill, the dwelling-house of my old master,
Aaron Anthony; the overseer's house, once occupied by Wil-
liam Sevier, Austin Gore, James Hopkins, and other overseers.
In connection with my old master's house was the kitchen
where Aunt Katy presided, and where my head had received
many a thump from her unfriendly hand. I looked into this
kitchen with peculiar interest, and remembered that it was
there I last saw my mother. I went round to the window at
which Miss Lucretia used to sit with her sewing, and at which
I used to sing when hungry, a signal which she well under-
stood, and to which she readily responded with bread. The
little closet in which I slept in a bag had been taken into the
room; the dirt floor, too, had disappeared under plank. But
upon the whole, the house is very much as it was in the olden
time. Not far from it was the stable formerly in charge of
old Barney. The store-house at the end of it, of which my
master carried the keys, had been removed. The large car-
riage house, too, which in my boy days contained two or three
fine coaches, several phaetons, gigs, and a large sleigh (for the
latter there was seldom any use) was gone. This carriage
house was of much interest to me because Col. Lloyd some-
times allowed his servants the use of it for festal occasions,
and in it there was at such times music and dancing. With
these two exceptions, the houses of the estate remained.
454 THE BURIAL GROUND OF CENTURIES.
There was the shoemaker's shop, where Uncle Abe made and
mended shoes; and there the blacksmith's shop, where Uncle
Tony hammered iron, and the weekly closing of which first
taught me to distinguish Sundays from other days. The old
barn, too, was there—time-worn, to be sure, but still in good
condition—a place of wonderful interest to me in my child-
hood, for there I often repaired to listen to the chatter and
watch the flight of swallows among its lofty beams, and under
its ample roof. Time had wrought some changes in the trees
and foliage. The Lombardy poplars, in the branches of
which the red-winged black birds used to congregate and sing,
and whose music awakened in my young heart sensations and
aspirations deep and undefinable, were gone; but the oaks and
elms where young Daniel (the uncle of the present Edward
Lloyd) used to divide with me his cakes and biscuits, were
there as umbrageous and beautiful as ever. I expressed a
wish to Mr. Howard to be shown into the family burial ground,
and thither we made our way. It is a remarkable spot—the
resting place for all the deceased Lloyds for two hundred
years, for the family have been in possession of the estate
since the settlement of the Maryland colony.
The tombs there remind one of what may be seen in the
grounds of moss-covered churches in England. The very
names of those who sleep within the oldest of them are crum-
bled away and become undecipherable. Everything about it is
impressive, and suggestive of the transient character of human
life and glory. No one could stand under its weeping willows,
amidst its creeping ivy and myrtle, and look through its som.
ber shadows, without a feeling of unusual solemnity. The
first interment I ever witnessed was in this place. It was the
great-great-grandmother, brought from Annapolis in a mahog
any coffin, and quietly, without ceremony, deposited in this
ground.
While here, Mr. Howard gathered for me a bouquet of flow.
ers and evergreens from the different graves around us, and
which I carefully brought to my home for preservation.

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REVISITs HIs OLD HOME.




A MASSA CHUSETTS TUTOR INTERRED THERE. 455
Notable among the tombs were those of Admiral Buchanan,
who commanded the Merrimac in the action at Hampton
Roads with the Monitor, March 8, 1862, and that of General
Winder of the Confederate army, both sons-in-law of the elder
Lloyd. There was also pointed out to me the grave of a Mas-
sachusetts man, a Mr. Page, a teacher in the family, whom I
had often seen and wondered what he could be thinking abourt
as he silently paced up and down the garden walks, always
alone, for he associated neither with Captain Anthony, Mr.
McDermot, nor the overseers. He seemed to be one by him-
self. I believe he originated somewhere near Greenfield,
Massachusetts, and members of his family will perhaps learn
for the first time, from these lines, the place of his burial; for
I have had intimation that they knew little about him after he
once left home. -
We then visited the garden, still kept in fine condition, but
not as in the days of the elder Lloyd, for then it was tended
constantly by Mr. McDermot, a scientific gardener, and four
experienced hands, and formed, perhaps, the most beautiful
feature of the place. From this we were invited to what was
called by the slaves the Great House—the mansion of the
Lloyds, and were helped to chairs upon its stately veranda,
where we could have a full view of its garden, with its broad
walks, hedged with box and adorned with fruit trees and flow-
ers of almost every variety. A more tranquil and tranquiliz-
ing scene I have seldom met in this or any other country.
We were soon invited from this delightful outlook into the
large dining room, with its old-fashioned furniture, its mahog-
any side-board, its cut-glass chandeliers, decanters, tumblers,
and wine glasses, and cordially invited to refresh ourselves
with wine of most excellent quality.
To say that our reception was every way gratifying is but a
feeble expression of the feeling of each and all of us.
Leaving the Great House, my presence became known to
the colored people, some of whom were children of those I
had known when a boy. They all seemed delighted to see

456 A NEW DISPENSATION.
me, and were pleased when I called over the names of many
of the old servants, and pointed out the cabin where Dr. Copper,
an old slave, used to teach us with a hickory stick in hand, to
say the “Lord's Prayer.” After spending a little time with
these, we bade good-bye to Mr. Howard Lloyd, with many
thanks for his kind attentions, and steamed away to St.
Michael's, a place of which I have already spoken. -
The next part of this memorable trip took us to the home
of Mrs. Buchanan, the widow of Admiral Buchanan, one of
the two only living daughters of old Governor Lloyd, and
here my reception was as kindly as that received at the Great
House, where I had often seen her when a slender young lady
of eighteen. She is now about seventy-four years, but marvel-
ously well preserved. She invited me to a seat by her side,
introduced me to her grand-children, conversed with me as
freely and with as little embarrassment as if I had been an
old acquaintance and occupied an equal station with the most
aristocratic of the Caucasian race. I saw in her much of
the quiet dignity as well as the features of her father. I
spent an hour or so in conversation with Mrs. Buchanan, and
when I left a beautiful little grand-daughter of hers, with a
pleasant smile on her face, handed me a bouquet of many-
colored flowers. I never accepted such a gift with a sweeter
sentiment of gratitude than from the hand of this lovely child.
It told me many things, and among them that a new dispen-
sation of justice, kindness, and human brotherhood was
dawning not only in the North, but in the South; that the
war and the slavery that caused the war were things of the
past, and that the rising generation are turning their eyes
from the sunset of decayed institutions to the grand possibili-
ties of a glorious future.
The next, and last noteworthy incident in my experience,
and one which further and strikingly illustrates the idea with
which this chapter sets out, is my visit to Harper's Ferry on
30th of May, of this year, and my address on John Brown,
delivered in that place before Storer College, an Institution

ADDRESS ON JOHN BROWN AT HARPERS FERRY. 457
established for the education of the children of those whom
John Brown endeavored to liberate. It is only a little more
than twenty years ago when the subject of my discourse (as will
be seen elsewhere in this volume) made a raid upon Harper's
Ferry ; when its people, and we may say the whole nation,
were filled with astonishment, horror, and indignation at the
mention of his name; when the Government of the United
States co-operated with the State of Virginia in efforts to
arrest and bring to capital punishment all persons in any way
connected with John Brown and his enterprise; when United
States Marshals visited Rochester and elsewhere in search of
me, with a view to my apprehension and execution, for my
supposed complicity with Brown; when many prominent
citizens of the North were compelled to leave the country to
avoid arrest, and men were mobbed, even in Boston, for dar-
ing to speak a word in vindication or extenuation of what
was considered Brown's stupendous crime; and yet here I
was, after two decades upon the very soil he had stained with
blood, among the very people he had startled and outraged,
and who a few years ago would have hanged me to the first
tree, in open daylight, allowed to deliver an address, not
merely defending John Brown, but extolling him as a hero
and martyr to the cause of liberty, and doing it with scarcely
a murmur of disapprobation. I confess that as I looked out
upon the scene before me and the towering heights around
me, and remembered the bloody drama there enacted; saw
the log house in the distance where John Brown collected his
men, saw the little engine house where the brave old Puritan
fortified himself against a dozen companies of Virginia Mil-
itia, and the place where he was finally captured by United
States troops under Col. Robert E. Lee, I was a little shocked
at my own boldness in attempting to deliver an address in
such presence, and of the character advertised in advance of
my coming. But there was no cause of apprehension. The
people of Harper's Ferry have made wondrous progress in
their ideas of freedom, of thought, and speech. The abolition

458 WHITES EMANCIPATED AS WELL AS BLACKS.
of slavery has not merely emancipated the negro, but liberated
the whites; taken the lock from their tongues, and the fetters
from their press. On the platform from which I spoke, sat
IIon. Andrew J. Hunter, the prosecuting attorney for the State
of Virginia, who conducted the cause of the State against
John Brown, that consigned him to the gallows. This man,
now well stricken in years, greeted me cordially, and in con-
versation with me after the address, bore testimony to the
manliness and courage of John Brown, and though he still
disapproved of the raid made by him upon Harper's Ferry,
he commended me for my address, and gave me a pressing
invitation to visit Charlestown, where he lives, and offered to
give me some facts which might prove interesting to me, as
to the sayings and conduct of Captain Brown while in prison
and on trial, up to the time of his execution. I regret that
my engagements and duties were such that I could not then
and there accept his invitation, for I could not doubt the
sincerity with which it was given, or fail to see the value of
compliance. Mr. Hunter not only congratulated me upon my
speech, but at parting, gave me a friendly grip, and added
that if Robert E. Lee were alive and present, he knew he
would give me his hand also.
This man’s presence added much to the interest of the
occasion by his frequent interruptions, approving, and con-
demning my sentiments as they were uttered. I only regret
that he did not undertake a formal reply to my speech, but
this, though invited, he declined to do. It would have given
me an opportunity of fortifying certain positions in my address
which were perhaps insufficiently defended. Upon the whole,
taking the visit to Capt. Auld, to Easton with its old jail, to
the home of my old master at Col. Lloyd's, and this visit to
Harper's Ferry, with all their associations, they fulfill the
expectation created at the beginning of this chapter.

CHAPTER XVI.
INCIDENTS AND EVENTS.
Hon. Gerrit Smith and Mr. E. C. Delevan—Experiences at Hotels and
on Steamboats and other modes of travel—Hon. Edward Marshall—Grace
Greenwood–Hon. Moses Norris–Rob't J. Ingersoll–Reflections and
conclusions—Compensations.
N escaping from the South, the reader will have observed
that I did not escape from its wide-spread influence in the
North. That influence met me almost everywhere outside of
pronounced anti-slavery circles, and sometimes even within
them. It was in the air, and men breathed it and were per-
meated by it, often when they were quite unconscious of its
presence.
I might recount many occasions when I have encountered
this feeling, some painful and melancholy, some ridiculous
and amusing. It has been a part of my mission to expose
the absurdity of this spirit of caste and in some measure help
to emancipate men from its control.
Invited to accompany Hon. Gerrit Smith to dine with Mr.
E. C. Delevan, at Albany many years ago, I expressed to Mr.
Smith, my awkwardness and embarrassment in the society I
was likely to meet there. “Ah!” said that good man, “you
must go, Douglass, it is your mission to break down the walls
of separation between the two races.” I went with Mr.
Smith, and was soon made at ease by Mr. Delevan and the
ladies and gentlemen there. They were among the most re-
fined and brilliant people I had ever met. I felt somewhat
surprised that I could be so much at ease in such company,
but I found it then, as I have since, that the higher the gra-
dation in intelligence and refinement, the farther removed
(459)

460 CIVILIZATION IN JANESVILLE.
are all artificial distinctions, and restraints of mere caste or
color.
In one of my anti-slavery campaigns in New York, five
and thirty years ago, I had an appointment at Victor, a town
in Ontario County. I was compelled to stop at the hotel. It
was the custom at that time, to seat the guests at a long table
running the length of the dining room. When I entered I
was shown a little table off in a corner. I knew what it
meant, but took my dinner all the same. When I went to
the desk to pay my bill, I said, “Now, Landlord, be good
enough to tell me just why you gave me my dinner at the
little table in the corner by myself º' He was equal to the
occasion, and quickly replied: “Because you see, I wished to
give you something better than the others.” The cool reply
staggered me, and I gathered up my change, muttering only
that I did not want to be treated better than other people, and
bade him good morning.
On an anti-slavery tour through the West, in company with
H. Ford Douglas, a young colored man of fine intellect and
much promise, and my old friend John Jones, (both now
deceased,) we stopped at a Hotel in Janesville, and were
seated by ourselves to take our meals, where all the bar-room
loafers of the town could stare us. Thus seated I took occa-
sion to say, loud enough for the crowd to hear me, that I had
just been out to the stable and had made a great discovery.
Asked by Mr. Jones what my discovery was, I said that I
saw there, black horses and white horses eating together from
the same trough in peace, from which I inferred that the
horses of Janesville were more civilized than its people. The
crowd saw the hit, and broke out into a good-natured laugh.
We were afterwards entertained at the same table with other
guests.
Many years ago, on my way from Cleveland to Buffalo, on
one of the Lake Steamers, the gong sounded for supper.
There was a rough element on board, such as at that time
might be found anywhere between Buffalo and Chicago. It

A SCENE AT A SUPPER, TABLE. 461
was not to be trifled with especially when hungry. At the
first sound of the gong there was a furious rush for the table.
From prudence, more than from lack of appetite, I waited for
the second table, as did several others. At this second table
I took a seat far apart from the few gentlemen scattered along
its side, but directly opposite a well dressed, finely-featured
man, of the fairest complexion, high forehead, golden hair
and light beard. His whole appearance told me he was some-
body. I had been seated but a minute or two, when the
steward came to me, and roughly ordered me away. I paid
no attention to him, but proceeded to take my supper, deter-
mined not to leave, unless compelled to do so by superior
force, and being young and strong I was not entirely unwill-
ing to risk the consequences of such a contest. A few mo-
ments passed, when on each side of my chair, there appeared
a stalwart of my own race. I glanced at the gentleman
opposite. His brow was knit, his color changed from white
to scarlet, and his eyes were full of fire. I saw the light-
ning flash, but I could not tell where it would strike. Before
my sable brethren could execute their captain's order, and
just as they were about to lay violent hands upon me, a voice
from that man of golden hair and fiery eyes resounded like
a clap of summer thunder. “Let the gentleman alone! I am
not ashamed to take my tea with Mr. Douglass.” His was a
voice to be obeyed, and my right to my seat and my supper
Was no more disputed.
I bowed my acknowledgments to the gentleman, and thanked
him for his chivalrous interference; and as modestly as I
could, asked him his name. “I am Edward Marshall of Ken-
tucky, now of California,” he said. “Sir, I am very glad to
know you, I have just been reading your speech in Congress,”
I said. Supper over, we passed several hours in conversation
With each other, during which he told me of his political
“areer in California, of his election to Congress, and that he
Was a Democrat, but had no prejudice against color. He was
then just coming from Kentucky where he had been in part

462 EDWARD MARSHALL OF KENTUCKY.
to see his black mammy, for, said he, “I nursed at the breasts
of a colored mother.”
I asked him if he knew my old friend John A. Collins in
California. “Oh, yes,” he replied, “he is a smart fellow; he ran
against me for Congress. I charged him with being an abo-
litionist, but he denied it, so I sent off and got the evidence of
his having been general agent of the Massachusetts Anti-
Slavery Society, and that settled him.”
During the passage, Mr. Marshall invited me into the ban-
room to take a drink. I excused myself from drinking, but
went down with him. There were a number of thirsty look-
ing individuals standing around, to whom Mr. Marshall said,
“Come, boys, take a drink.” When the drinking was over,
he threw down upon the counter a twenty dollar gold piece,
at which the bar-keeper made large eyes, and said he could
not change it. “Well, keep it,” said the gallant Marshall,
“it will all be gone before morning.” After this, we naturally
fell apart, and he was monopolized by other company; but I
shall never fail to bear willing testimony to the generous and
manly qualities of this brother of the gifted and eloquent
Thomas Marshall of Kentucky.
In 1842 I was sent by the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery
Society to hold a Sunday meeting in Pittsfield, N. H., and
was given the name of Mr. Hilles, a subscriber to the Liberator.
It was supposed that any man who had the courage to take
and read the Liberator, edited by Wm. Lloyd Garrison, or the
Herald of Freedom, edited by Nathaniel P. Rodgers, would
gladly receive and give food and shelter to any colored brother
laboring in the cause of the slave. As a general rule this was
very true.
There were no railroads in New Hampshire in those days,
so I reached Pittsfield by stage, glad to be permitted to ride
upon the top thereof, for no colored person could be allowed
inside. This was many years before the days of civil rights
bills, black Congressmen, colored United States Marshals,
and such like.

COLORPHOBIA IN NEW HAMPSHIRE. 463
Arriving at Pittsfield, I was asked by the driver where I
would stop. I gave him the name of my subscriber to the
Liberator. “That is two miles beyond,” he said. So after
landing his other passengers, he took me on to the house of
Mr. Hilles.
I confess I did not seem a very desirable visitor. The day
had been warm, and the road dusty. I was covered with dust,
and then I was not of the color fashionable in that neighbor-
hood, for colored people were scarce in that part of the old
Granite State. I saw in an instant, that though the weather
was warm, I was to have a cool reception; but cool or warm,
there was no alternative left me but to stay and take what I
could get.
Mr. Hilles scarcely spoke to me, and from the moment he
saw me jump down from the top of the stage, carpet-bag in
hand, his face wore a troubled look. His good wife took the
matter more philosophically, and evidently thought my pre-
sence there for a day or two could do the family no especial
harm; but her manner was restrained, silent, and formal,
wholly unlike that of anti-slavery ladies I had met in Massa-
chusetts and Rhode Island.
When tea time came, I found that Mr. Hilles had lost his
appetite, and could not come to the table. I suspected his
trouble was colorphobia, and though I regretted his malady, I
knew his case was not necessarily dangerous; and I was not
without some confidence in my skill and ability in healing
diseases of that type. I was, however, so affected by his con-
dition that I could not eat much of the pie and cake before
me, and felt so little in harmony with things about me that I
Was, for me, remarkably reticent during the evening, both
before and after the family worship, for Mr. Hilles was a
plous man.
- Sunday morning came, and in due season the hour for meet-
*g. I had arranged a good supply of work for the day. I
* to speak four times: at ten o'clock A. M., at one P. M., at
five, and again at half-past seven in the evening.

464 THE GRAVE AN END TO ALL DISTINCTIONS.
When meeting time came, Mr. Hilles brought his fine
phaeton to the door, assisted his wife in, and, although there
were two vacant seats in his carriage, there was no room in it
for me. On driving off from his door, he merely said, address-
ing me, “You can find your way to the town hall, I suppose?”
“I suppose I can,” I replied, and started along behind his car-
riage on the dusty road toward the village. I found the hall,
and was very glad to see in my small audience the face of
good Mrs. Hilles. Her husband was not there, but had gone
to his church. There was no one to introduce me, and I pro-
ceeded with my discourse without introduction. I held my
audience till twelve o’clock—noon—and then took the usual
recess of Sunday meetings in country towns, to allow the peo-
ple to take their lunch. No one invited me to lunch, so I
remained in the town hall till the audience assembled again,
when I spoke till nearly three o'clock, when the people again
dispersed and left me as before. By this time I began to be
hungry, and seeing a small hotel near, I went into it, and
offered to buy a meal; but I was told “they did not entertain
niggers there.” I went back to the old town hall hungry and
chilled, for an infant “New England northeaster” was begin-
ning to chill the air, and a drizzling rain to fall. I saw that
my movements were being observed, from the comfortable
homes around, with apparently something of the feeling that
children might experience in seeing a bear prowling about
town. There was a grave-yard near the town hall, and at-
tracted thither, I felt some relief in contemplating the resting
places of the dead, where there was an end to all distinctions
between rich and poor, white and colored, high and low.
While thus meditating on the vanities of the world and my
own loneliness and destitution, and recalling the sublime
pathos of the saying of Jesus, “The foxes have holes, and the
birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not
where to lay His head,” I was approached rather hesitatingly
by a gentleman, who inquired my name. “My name is Doug
lass,” I replied. “You do not seem to have any place to stay

KINDNESS CONQUERS DISLIKE. 465
while in town?” I told him I had not. “Well,” said he, “I
am no abolitionist, but if you will go with me I will take care
of you.” I thanked him, and turned with him towards his
fine residence. On the way I asked him his name. “Moses
Norris,” he said. “What! Hon. Moses Norris?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. I did not for a moment know what to
do, for I had read that this same man had literally dragged
the Reverend George Storrs from the pulpit, for preaching
abolitionism. I, however, walked along with him and was
invited into his house, when I heard the children running and
screaming “Mother, mother, there is a nigger in the house,
there's a nigger in the house”; and it was with some diffi-
culty that Mr. Norris succeeded in quieting the tumult. I
saw that Mrs. Norris, too, was much disturbed by my pres-
ence, and I thought for a moment of beating a retreat, but the
kind assurances of Mr. Norris decided me to stay. When
quiet was restored, I ventured the experiment of asking Mrs.
Norris to do me a kindness. I said, “Mrs. Norris, I have
taken cold, and am hoarse from speaking, and I have found
that nothing relieves me so readily as a little loaf sugar and
cold water.” The lady's manner changed, and with her own
hands she brought me the water and sugar. I thanked hor
with genuine earnestness, and from that moment I could sce
that her prejudices were more than half gone, and that I was
more than half welcome at the fireside of this Democratic
Senator. I spoke again in the evening, and at the close of
the meeting there was quite a contest between Mrs. Norris
and Mrs. Hilles, as to which I should go home with. I con-
sidered Mrs. Hilles' kindness to me, though her manner had
been formal; I knew the cause, and I thought, especially as
my carpet-bag was there, I would go with her. So giving
Mr. and Mrs. Norris many thanks, I bade them good-bye, and
went home with Mr. and Mrs. Hilles, where I found the
atmosphere wondrously and most agreeably changed. Next
day, Mr. Hilles took me in the same carriage in which I did
ºf ride on Sunday, to my next appointment, and on the way

466 PHILADELPHIA CARS RESPECT PROPERTY, NOT MANHOOD.
told me he felt more honored by having me in it, than he
would be if he had the President of the United States. This
compliment would have been a little more flattering to my
self-esteem, had not John Tyler then occupied the Presidential
chair.
In those unhappy days of the Republic, when all presump-
tions were in favor of slavery, and a colored man as a slave
met less resistance in the use of public conveyances than a
colored man as a freeman, I happened to be in Philadelphia,
and was afforded an opportunity to witness this preference.
I took a seat in a street car by the side of my friend Mrs.
Amy Post, of Rochester, New York, who, like myself, had
come to Philadelphia to attend an anti-slavery meeting. I
had no sooner seated myself when the conductor hastened to
remove me from the car. My friend remonstrated, and the
amazed conductor said, “Lady, does he belong to you?”
“He does,” said Mrs. Post, and there the matter ended. I
was allowed to ride in peace, not because I was a man, and
had paid my fare, but because I belonged to somebody. My
color was no longer offensive when it was supposed that I
was not a person, but a piece of property.
Another time, in the same city, I took a seat, unobserved,
far up in the street car, among the white passengers. All at
once I heard the conductor, in an angry tone, order another
colored man, who was modestly standing on the platform of
the rear end of the car, to get off, and actually stopped the
car to push him off, when I, from within, with all the empha-
sis I could throw into my voice, in imitation of my chivalrous
friend Marshall of Kentucky, sung out, “Go on! let the gen-
tleman alone; no one here objects to his riding!” Unhappily
the fellow saw where the voice came from, and turned his wrath-
ful attention to me, and said, “You shall get out also!” I told
him I would do no such thing, and if he attempted to remove
me by force he would do it at his peril. Whether the young
man was afraid to tackle me, or did not wish to disturb the
passengers, I do not know. At any rate he did not attempt

HUDSON RIVER STEAMBOAT ALIDA. 467
to execute his threat, and I rode on in peace till I reached
Chestnut street, when I got off and went about my business.
On my way down the Hudson river, from Albany to New
York, at one time, on the steamer Alida, in company with
some English ladies who had seen me in their own country,
received and treated me as a gentleman, I ventured, like any
other passenger, to go, at the call of the dinner bell, into the
cabin and take a seat at the table; but I was forcibly taken
from it and compelled to leave the cabin. My friends, who
wished to enjoy a day's trip on the beautiful Hudson, left the
table with me, and went to New York hungry and not a little
indignant and disgusted at such barbarism. There were
influential persons on board the Alida, on this occasion, a
word from whom might have spared me this indignity; but
there was no Edward Marshall among them to defend the
weak and rebuke the strong.
When Miss Sarah Jane Clark, one of America's brilliant
literary ladies, known to the world under the nom de plume
of Grace Greenwood, was young, and as brave as she was
beautiful, I encountered a similar experience to that on the
Alida on one of the Ohio river steamers; and that lady, being
on board, arose from her seat at the table, expressed her dis-
approbation, and moved majestically away with her sister to
the upper deck. Her conduct seemed to amaze the lookers
on, but it filled me with grateful admiration.
When on my way to attend the great Free Soil Convention
at Pittsburg, in 1852, which nominated John P. Hale for Presi-
dent, and George W. Julian for Vice-President, the train
stopped for dinner at Alliance, Ohio, and I attempted to enter
the hotel with the other delegates, but was rudely repulsed,
When many of them, learning of it, rose from the table, and
denounced the outrage, and refused to finish their dinners.
In anticipation of our return, at the close of the Conven-
tion, Mr. Sam. Beck, the proprietor of the hotel, prepared
dinner for three hundred guests, but when the train arrived,
* one of the large company went into his place, and his din-
her was left to spoil.

468 A FREEZING NIGHT AND GLOOMY PROSPECTS.
A dozen years ago, or more, on one of the frostiest and
coldest nights I ever experienced, I delivered a lecture in the
town of Elmwood, Illinois, twenty miles distant from Peoria.
It was one of those bleak and flinty nights, when prairie
winds pierce like needles, and a step on the snow sounds like
a file on the steel teeth of a saw. My next appointment after
Elmwood was on Monday night, and in order to reach it in
time, it was necessary to go to Peoria the night previous, so
as to take an early morning train, and I could only accomplish
this by leaving Elmwood after my lecture at midnight, for
there was no Sunday train. So a little before the hour at
which my train was expected at Elmwood, I started for the
station with my friend Mr. Brown, the gentleman who had
kindly entertained me during my stay. On the way I said to
him, “I am going to Peoria with something like a real dread
of the place. I expect to be compelled to walk the streets of
that city all night to keep from freezing.” I told him “that
the last time I was there I could obtain no shelter at any
hotel, and that I feared I should meet a similar exclusion
to-night.” Mr. Brown was visibly affected by the statement,
and for some time was silent. At last, as if suddenly d cov-
ering a way out of a painful situation, he said, “I know a man
in Peoria, should the hotels be closed against you there, who
would gladly open his doors to you—a man who will receive
you at any hour of the night, and in any weather, and that
man is Robert J. Ingersoll.” “Why,” said I, “it would not
do to disturb a family at such a time as I shall arrive there,
on a night so cold as this.” “No matter about the hour,” he
said; “neither he nor his family would be happy if they thought
you were shelterless on such a night. I know Mr. Ingersoll,
and that he will be glad to welcome you at midnight or at
cock-crow.” I became much interested by this description of
Mr. Ingersoll. Fortunately I had no occasion for disturbing
him or his family. I found quarters at the best hotel in the
city for the night. In the morning I resolved to know more
of this now famous and noted “infidel.” I gave him an early

THE HUMANITY OF AN “INFIDEL.” 469
call, for I was not so abundant in cash as to refuse hospitality
in a strange city when on a mission of “good will to men.”
The experiment worked admirably. Mr. Ingersoll was at
home, and if I have ever met a man with real living human
sunshine in his face, and honest, manly kindness in his voice,
I met one who possessed these qualities that morning. I
received a welcome from Mr. Ingersoll and his family which
would have been a cordial to the bruised heart of any pro-
scribed and storm-beaten stranger, and one which I can never
forget or fail to appreciate. Perhaps there were Christian
ministers and Christian families in Peoria at that time by
whom I might have been received in the same gracious man-
ner. In charity I am bound to say there probably were such
ministers and such families, but I am equally bound to say
that in my former visits to this place I had failed to find them.
Incidents of this character have greatly tended to liberalize
my views as to the value of creeds in estimating the character
of men. They have brought me to the conclusion that genu-
ine goodness is the same, whether found inside or outside the
church, and that to be an “infidel” no more proves a man to
be selfish, mean, and wicked, than to be evangelical proves
him to be honest, just, and humane. -
It may possibly be inferred from what I have said of the
prevalence of prejudice, and the practice of proscription, that
I have had a very miserable sort of life, or that I must be
remarkably insensible to public aversion. Neither inference
is true. I have neither been miserable because of the ill-feel-
ing of those about me, nor indifferent to popular approval;
and I think, upon the whole, I have passed a tolerably cheer-
ful and even joyful life. I have never felt myself isolated
since I entered the field to plead the cause of the slave, and
demand equal rights for all. In every town and city where
it has been my lot to speak, there have been raised up for me
friends of both colors to cheer and strengthen me in my
Work. I have always felt, too, that I had on my side all the
invisible forces of the moral government of the universe.

470 popuf, AR PREJUDICE.
Happily for me I have had the wit to distinguish between
what is merely artificial and transient and what is fundamen-
tal and permanent; and resting on the latter, I could cheer-
fully encounter the former. “How do you feel,” said a friend
to me, “when you are hooted and jeered on the street on
account of your color º’ “I feel as if an ass had kicked but
had hit nobody,” was my answer.
I have been greatly helped to bear up under unfriendly con-
ditions, too, by a constitutional tendency to see the funny
sides of things which has enabled me to laugh at follies that
others would soberly resent. Besides, there were compensa-
tions as well as drawbacks in my relations to the white race.
A passenger on the deck of a Hudson River steamer, covered
with a shawl, well-worn and dingy, I was addressed by a
remarkably-religiously-missionary-looking man in black coat
and white cravat, who took me for one of the noble red men
of the far West, with “From away back?” I was silent, and
he added, “Indian, Indian : * “No, no,” I said; “I am a
negro.” The dear man seemed to have no missionary work
with me, and retreak-with evident marks of disgust.
On another occasion, traveling by a night train on the New
York Central railroad, when the cars were crowded and seats
were scarce, and I was occupying a whole seat, the only
luxury my color afforded me in traveling, I had laid down
with my head partly covered, thinking myself secure in my
possession, when a well dressed man approached and wished
to share the seat with me. Slightly rising, I said, “Don’t sit
down here, my friend, I am a nigger.” “I don't care who
the devil you are,” he said, “I mean to sit with you.” “Well,
if it must be so,” I said, “I can stand it if you can,” and we
at once fell into a very pleasant conversation, and passed the
hours on the road very happily together. These two inci-
dents illustrate my career in respect of popular prejudice. If
I have had kicks, I have also had kindness. If cast down, I
have been exalted; and the latter experience has, after all,
far exceeded the former.

THE CITIZENS OF ROCHESTER SHOW THEIR AppBBCIATION. 471
During a quarter of a century I resided in the city of
Rochester, N. Y. When I removed from there, my friends
caused a marble bust to be made from me, and have since
honored it with a place in Sibley Hall, of Rochester Univer-
sity. Less in a spirit of vanity than that of gratitude, I copy
here the remarks of the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle on
the occasion, and on my letter of thanks for the honor done
me by my friends and fellow-citizens of that beautiful city:
RoCHESTER, June 28, 1879.
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
“It will be remembered that a bust of Frederick Douglass was recently
placed in Sibley Hall of the University of Rochester. The ceremonies were
quite informal, too informal, we think, as commemorating a deserved tribute
from the people of Rochester to one who will always rank as among her
most distinguished citizens. Mr. Douglass himself was not notified offici-
ally of the event, and therefore could, in no public manner, take notice of
it. He was, however, informed privately of it by the gentleman whose
address is given below, and responded to it most happily, as will be seen by
the following letter which we are permitted to publish.” Then follows the
letter which I omit, and add the further comments of the Chronicle. “It
were alone worth all the efforts of the gentlemen who united in the fitting
recognition of the publie services and the private worth of Frederick Doug-
lass, to have inspired a letter thus tender in its sentiment, and so suggestive
of the various phases of a career than which the republic has witnessed none
more strange or more noble. Frederick Douglass can hardly be said to have
risen to greatness on account of the opportunities which the republic offers
to self-made men, and concerning which we are apt to talk with an abund-
ance of self-gratulation. It sought to fetter his mind equally with his body.
For him it builded no school-house, and for him it erected no church. So
far as he was concerned freedom was a mockery, and law was the instru-
ment of tyranny. In spite of law and gospel, despite of statutes which
thralled him and opportunities which jeered at him, he made himself by
trampling on the law and breaking through the thick darkness that encom-
passed him. There is no sadder commentary upon American slavery than
the life of Frederick Douglass. He put it under his feet and stood erect in
the majesty of his intellect; but how many intellects as brilliant and as
powerful as his it stamped upon and crushed, no mortal can tell until the
secrets of its terrible despotism are fully revealed. Thanks to the conquer-
ing might of American freemen, such sad beginnings of such illustrious
lives as that of Frederick Douglass are no longer possible; and that they are
no longer possible, is largely due to him who, when his lips were unlocked,
became a deliverer of his people. Not alone did his voice proclaim emanci.
472 MUTUAL APPRECIATION.
pation. Eloquent as was that voice, his life in its pathos and in its grandeur,
was more eloquent still; and where shall be found, in the annals of human-
ity, a sweeter rendering of poetic justice than that he, who has passed
through such vicissitudes of degradation and exaltation, has been permitted
to behold the redemption of his race?"
“Rochester is proud to remember that Frederick Douglass was, for many
years, one of her citizens. He who pointed out the house where Douglass
lived, hardly exaggerated when he called it the residence of the greatest of
our citizens; for Douglass must rank as among the greatest men, not only of
this city, but of the nation as well-great in gifts, greater in utilizing them,
great in his inspiration, greater in his efforts for humanity, great in the per-
suasion of his speech, greater in the purpose that informed it.
“Rochester could do nothing more graceful than to perpetuate in marble
the features of this citizen in her hall of learning; and it is pleasant for her
to know that he so well appreciates the esteem in which he is held here. It
was a thoughtful thing for Rochester to do, and the response is as heartfelt
as the tribute is appropriate.”



CHAPTER XVIII.
* HONOR TO WIHOM HONOR.”
Grateful recognition–Friends in need–Lucretia Mott–Lydia Maria Child
–Sarah and Angelina Grimke-Abby Kelly—H. Beecher Stow–Other
Friends—Woman Suffrage
Gratitude to benefactors is a well recognized virtue, and to
express it in some form or other, however imperfectly, is a
duty to ourselves as well as to those who have helped us.
Never reluctant or tardy, I trust, in the discharge of this duty,
I have seldom been satisfied with the manner of its perform-
ance. When I have made my best effort in this line, my
words have done small justice to my feelings. And now, in
mentioning my obligations to my special friends, and ac-
knowledging the help I received from them in the days of my
need, I can hope to do no better than give a faint hint of my
sense of the value of their friendship and assistance. I have
sometimes been credited with having been the architect of my
own fortune, and have pretty generally received the title of a
“self-made man; ” and while I cannot altogether disclaim
this title, when I look back over the facts of my life, and
consider the helpful influences exerted upon me, by friends
more fortunately born and educated than myself, I am com-
pelled to give them at least an equal measure of credit, with
myself, for the success which has attended my labors in life.
The little energy, industry, and perseverance which have been
mine, would hardly have availed me, in the absence of thought-
ful friends, and highly favoring circumstances. Without
these, the last forty years of my life might have been spent
on the wharves of New Bedford, rolling oil casks, loading
ships for whaling voyages, sawing wood, putting in coal, pick-
ing up a job here and there, wherever I could find one, hold-
(473)

474 THE HELP OF FAVORING CIRCUMSTANCES.
ing my own with difficulty against gauntsided poverty, in the
race for life and bread. I never see one of my old compan-
ions of the lower strata, begrimed by toil, hard handed, and
dust covered, receiving for wages scarcely enough to keep the
“wolf” at a respectful distance from his door and hearthstone,
without a fellow feeling and the thought that I have been
separated from him only by circumstances other than those
of my own making. Much to be thankful for, but little
room for boasting here. It was mine to take the “Tide at its
flood.” It was my good fortune to get out of slavery at the
right time, and to be speedily brought into contact with that
circle of highly cultivated men and women, banded together
for the overthrow of slavery, of which Wm. Lloyd Garrison
was the acknowledged leader. To these friends, earnest,
courageous, inflexible, ready to own me as a man and brother,
against all the scorn, contempt, and derision of a slavery-
polluted atmosphere, I owe my success in life. The story is
simple, and the truth plain. They thought that I possessed
qualities that might be made useful to my race, and through them
I was brought to the notice of the world, and gained a hold upon
the attention of the American people, which I hope remains
unbroken to this day. The list of these friends is too long
certainly to be inserted here, but I cannot forbear to recall in
this connection the names of Francis Jackson, Joseph South-
wick, Samuel E. Sewell, Samuel J. May, John Pierpont,
Henry I. Bowditch, Theodore Parker, Wendell Phillips,
Edmund Quincy, Isaac T. Hopper, James N. Buffum, Ellis
Gray Loring, Andrew Robeson, Seth Hunt, Arnold Buffum,
Nathaniel B. Borden, Boone Spooner, William Thomas, John
Milton Earle, John Curtis, George Foster, Clother Gifford,
John Bailey, Nathaniel P. Rodgers, Stephen S. Foster, Parker
Pillsbury, the Hutchinson family, Dr. Peleg Clark, the Burleigh
brothers, William Chase, Samuel and Harvey Chase, John
Brown, C. C. Eldredge, Daniel Mitchell, William Adams,
Isaac Kenyon, Joseph Sisson, Daniel Goold, Kelton brothers,
Geo. James Adams, Martin Cheeney, Edward Harris, Robert

NAMES OF MANY OLD FRIENDS. 475
Shove, Alpheus Jones, Asa Fairbanks, Gen. Sam'l Fessenden,
William Aplin, John Clark, Thomas Davis, George L. Clark;
these all took me to their hearts and homes, and inspired me
with an incentive which a confiding and helpful friendship
can alone impart.
Nor were my influential friends all of the Caucasian race.
While many of my own people thought me unwise and some-
what fanatical in announcing myself a fugitive slave, and in
practically asserting the rights of my people, on all occasions,
in season and out of season, there were brave and intelligent
men of color all over the United States who gave me their
cordial sympathy and support. Among these, and foremost,
I place the name of Doctor James McCune Smith; educated
in Scotland, and breathing the free air of that country, he
came back to his native land with ideas of liberty which
placed him in advance of most of his fellow citizens of Afri-
can descent. He was not only a learned and skillful physician,
but an effective speaker, and a keen and polished writer. In
my newspaper enterprise, I found in him an earnest and effec-
tive helper. The cause of his people lost an able advocate
when he died. He was never among the timid who thought
me too aggressive and wished me to tone down my testimony
to suit the times. A brave man himself, he knew how to
esteem courage in others. -
Of David Ruggles I have already spoken. He gave me my
send off from New York to New Bedford, and when I came
into public life, he was among the first with words of cheer.
Jelial C. Beman too, a noble man, kindly took me by the
hand. Thomas Van Rausclear was among my fast friends.
No young man, starting in an untried field of usefulness, and
needing support, could find that support in larger measure
than I found it, in William Whipper, Robert Purvis, William
P. Powell, Nathan Johnson, Charles B. Ray, Thomas Down-
º Theodore S. Wright, Charles L. Reason. Notwithstand-
ºng what I have said of my treatment, at times, by people of
*) own color, when traveling, I am bound to say that there

476 APPRECIATION OF KIND SERVICES.
is another and brighter side to that picture. Among the
waiters and attendants on public conveyances, I have often
found real gentlemen; intelligent, aspiring, and those who
fully appreciated all my efforts in behalf of our common
cause. Especially have I found this to be the case in the
East. A more gentlemanly and self-respecting class of men
it would be difficult to find, than those to be met on the
various lines between New York and Boston. I have never
wanted for kind attention, or any effort they could make to
render my journeying with them smooth and pleasant. I owe
this solely to my work in our common cause, and to their
intelligent estimate of the value of that work. Republics
are said to be ungrateful, but ingratitude is not among the
weaknesses of my people. No people ever had a more lively
sense of the value of faithful endeavor to serve their interests
than they. But for this feeling towards me on their part, I
might have passed many nights hungry and cold, and with-
out any place to lay my head. I need not name my colored
friends to whom I am thus indebted. They do not desire
such mention, but I wish any who have shown me kindness,
even so much as to give me a cup of cold water, to feel them-
selves included in my thanks.
It is also due to myself, to make some more emphatic men-
tion than I have yet done, of the honorable women, who have
not only assisted me, but who according to their opportunity
and ability, have generously contributed to the abolition of
slavery and the recognition of the equal manhood of the
colored race. When the true history of the anti-slavery cause
shall be written, woman will occupy a large space in its pages;
for the cause of the slave has been peculiarly woman's cause.
Her heart and her conscience have supplied in large degree
its motive and mainspring. Her skill, industry, patience, and
perseverance have been wonderfully manifest in every trial
hour. Not only did her feet run on “willing errands,” and
her fingers do the work which in large degree supplied the
Sinews of war, but her deep moral convictions, and her ten-

WONDERFUL POWER OF LUCRETIA MOTT. 477
der human sensibilities, found convincing and persuasive ex-
pression by her pen and her voice. Foremost among these
notable American women, who in point of clearness of vision,
breadth of understanding, fullness of knowledge, catholicity
of spirit, weight of character, and widespread influence, was
Lucretia Mott of Philadelphia. Great as this woman was in
speech, and persuasive as she was in her writings, she was
incomparably greater in her presence. She spoke to the
world through every line of her countenance. In her there
was no lack of symmetry—no contradiction between her
thought and act. Seated in an anti-slavery meeting, looking
benignantly around upon the assembly, her silent presence
made others eloquent, and carried the argument home to the
heart of the audience.
The known approval of such a woman of any cause, went
far to commend it.
I shall never forget the first time I ever saw and heard
Lucretia Mott. It was in the town of Lynn, Massachusetts.
It was not in a magnificent hall, where such as she seemed to
belong, but in a little hall over Jonathan Buffum's store, the
only place then open, even in that so-called radical anti-
slavery town, for an anti-slavery meeting on Sunday. But in
this day of small things, the smallness of the place was no
matter of complaint or murmuring. It was a cause of re-
joicing that any kind of place could be had for such a pur-
pose. But Jonathan Buffum's courage was equal to this and
In Ore.
The speaker was attired in the usual Quaker dress, free
from startling colors, plain, rich, elegant, and without super-
fluity—the very sight of her a sermon. In a few moments
after she began to speak, I saw before me no more a woman,
but a glorified presence, bearing a message of light and love
from the Infinite to a benighted and strangely wandering
world, straying away from the paths of truth and justice into
the wilderness of pride and selfishness, where peace is lost
and true happiness is sought in vain. I heard Mrs. Mott thus,

478 SARAH AND ANGELINA GRIMKE.
when she was comparatively young. I have often heard her
since, sometimes in the solemn temple, and sometimes under
the open sky, but whenever and wherever I have listened to
her, my heart was always made better, and my spirit raised
by her words; and in speaking thus for myself I am sure I
am expressing the experience of thousands.
Kindred in spirit with Mrs. Mott was Lydia Maria Child.
They both exerted an influence with a class of the American
people which neither Garrison, Phillips, nor Gerrit Smith
could reach. Sympathetic in her nature, it was easy for her
to “remember those in bonds as bound with them;" and her
“appeal for that class of Americans called Africans,” issued,
as it was, at an early stage in the anti-slavery conflict, was
one of the most effective agencies in arousing attention to the
cruelty and injustice of slavery. When with her husband,
David Lee Child, she edited the National Anti-Slavery Standard,
that paper was made attractive to a broad circle of readers,
from the circumstance that each issue contained a “Letter
from New York,” written by her on some passing subject of
the day, in which she always managed to infuse a spirit of
brotherly love and good will, with an abhorrence of all that
was unjust, selfish, and mean, and in this way won many
hearts to anti-slavery who else would have remained cold and
indifferent.
Of Sarah and Angelina Grimke I knew but little personally.
These brave sisters from Charleston, South Carolina, had
inherited slaves, but in their conversion from Episcopacy to
Quakerism, in 1828, became convinced that they had no right
to such inheritance. They emancipated their slaves and came
North and entered at once upon the pioneer work in the
advancing education of woman, though they saw then in their
course only their duty to the slave. They had “fought the
good fight” before I came into the ranks, but by their
unflinching testimony and unwavering courage, they had
opened the way and made it possible, if not easy, for other
women to follow their example,

ABBY KELLEY AND HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 479
It is memorable of them that their public advocacy of anti-
slavery was made the occasion of the issuing of a papal bull
in the form of a “Pastoral letter.” by the Evangelical clergy
of Boston, in which the churches and all God-fearing people
were warned against their influence.
For solid, persistent, indefatigable work for the slave,
Abby Kelley was without rival. In the “History of Woman
Suffrage,” just published by Mrs. Stanton, Miss Anthony, and
Mrs. Goslin Gage, there is this fitting tribute to her: “Abby
Kelley was the most untiring and most persecuted of all the
women who labored throughout the anti-slavery struggle.
She traveled up and down, alike in winter's cold and summer's
heat, with scorn, ridicule, violence, and mobs accompanying
her, suffering all kinds of persecutions, still speaking when-
ever and wherever she gained an audience,—in the open air,
in school-house, barn, depot, church, or public hall, on week-
day or Sunday, as she found opportunity.” And, incredible
as it will soon seem, if it does not appear so already, “for
listening to her on Sunday many men and women were
expelled from their churches.”
When the abolitionists of Rhode Island were seeking to
defeat the restricted constitution of the Dorr party, already
referred to in this volume, Abby Kelley was more than once
mobbed in the old Town Hall in the city of Providence, and
pelted with bad eggs.
And what can be said of the gifted authoress of “Uncle
Tom's Cabin,” Harriet Beecher Stowe ? Happy woman must
she be that to her was given the power, in such unstinted
measure, to touch and move the popular heart! More than
to reason or religion are we indebted to the influence which
this wonderful delineation of American chattel slavery pro-
duced on the public mind.
Nor must I omit to name the daughter of the excellent
Myron Holley, who in her youth and beauty espoused the
cause of the slave; nor of Lucy Stone, and Antoinette Brown;
for when the slave had few friends and advocates they were
noble enough to speak their best word in his behalf.

480 woMAN's RIGHTS.
Others there were, who, though they were not known on
the platform, were none the less earnest and effective for anti-
slavery in their more retired lives. There were many such to
greet me, and welcome me to my newly found heritage of free-
dom. They met me as a brother, and by their kind consider-
ation did much to make endurable the rebuffs I encountered
elsewhere. At the anti-slavery office in Providence, Rhode
Island, I remember with a peculiar interest Lucinda Wilmarth,
whose acceptance of life's duties and labors, and whose heroic
struggle with sickness and death, taught me more than one
lesson; and Amorancy Paine, never weary in performing any
service, however arduous, which fidelity to the slave demanded
of her. Then there was Phebe Jackson, Elizabeth Chace,
the Sisson sisters, the Chases, the Greenes, the Browns, the
Goolds, the Shoves, the Anthonys, the Roses, the Fayerweath-
ers, the Motts, the Earles, the Spooners, the Southwicks, the
Buffums, the Fords, the Wilburs, the Henshaws, the Burgesses,
and others whose names are lost, but whose deeds are living
yet in the regenerated life of our new Republic, cleansed from
the curse and sin of slavery. -
Observing woman’s agency, devotion, and efficiency in
pleading the cause of the slave, gratitude for this high service
early moved me to give favorable attention to the subject of what
is called “Woman's Rights,” and caused me to be denominated
a woman’s-rights-man. I am glad to say I have never been
ashamed to be thus designated. Recognizing not sex, nor
physical strength, but moral intelligence and the ability to
discern right from wrong, good from evil, and the power to
choose between them, as the true basis of Republican govern-
ment, to which all are alike subject, and bound alike to obey,
I was not long in reaching the conclusion that there was no
foundation in reason or justice for woman’s exclusion from
the right of choice in the selection of the persons who should
frame the laws, and thus shape the destiny of all the people.
irrespective of sex. -
In a conversation with Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton, when
she was yet a young lady, and an earnest abolitionist, she was

ARGUMENT FOR UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE. 481
at the pains of setting before me, in a very strong light, the
wrong and injustice of this exclusion. I could not meet her
arguments except with the shallow plea of “custom,” “nat-
ural division of duties,” “indelicacy of woman's taking part
in politics,” the common talk of “woman's sphere,” and the
like, all of which that able woman, who was then no less log-
ical than now, brushed away by those arguments which she
has so often and effectively used since, and which no man has
yet successfully refuted. If intelligence is the only true and
rational basis of government, it follows that that is the best
government which draws its life and power from the largest
sources of wisdom, energy, and goodness at its command.
The force of this reasoning would be easily comprehended and
readily assented to in any case involving the employment of
physical strength. We should all see the folly and madness
of attempting to accomplish with a part what could only be
done with the united strength of the whole. Though this
folly may be less apparent, it is just as real, when one-half of
the moral and intellectual power of the world is excluded
from any voice or vote in civil government. In this denial
of the right to participate in government, not merely the
degradation of woman and the perpetuation of a great injus-
tice happens, but the maiming and repudiation of one-half of
the moral and intellectual power for the government of the
world. Thus far all human governments have been failures,
for none have secured, except in a partial degree, the ends for
which governments are instituted.
War, slavery, injustice, and oppression, and the idea that
might makes right, have been uppermost in all such govern-
ments; and the weak, for whose protection governments are
ostensibly created, have had practically no rights which the
strong have felt bound to respect. The slayers of thousands
have been exalted into heroes, and the worship of mere physi-
cal force has been considered glorious. Nations have been
and still are but armed camps, expending their wealth and
strength and ingenuity in forging weapons of destruction
482 FAILURE OF MALE GOVERNMENT.
against each other; and while it may not be contended that
the introduction of the feminine element in government
would entirely cure this tendency to exalt might over right,
many reasons can be given to show that woman's influence
would greatly tend to check and modify this barbarous and
destructive tendency. At any rate, seeing that the male gov-
ernments of the world have failed, it can do no harm to try
the experiment of a government by man and woman united.
But it is not my purpose to argue the question here, but sim-
ply to state, in a brief way, the ground of my espousal of the
cause of woman’s suffrage. I believed that the exclusion of
my race from participation in government was not only a
wrong, but a great mistake, because it took from that race
motives for high thought and endeavor, and degraded them
in the eyes of the world around them. Man derives a sense
of his consequence in the world not merely subjectively, but
objectively. If from the cradle through life the outside
world brands a class as unfit for this or that work, the char-
acter of the class will come to resemble and conform to the
character described. To find valuable qualities in our fel-
lows, such qualities must be presumed and expected. I
would give woman a vote, give her a motive to qualify herself
to vote, precisely as I insisted upon giving the colored man
the right to vote, in order that he should have the same
motives for making himself a useful citizen as those in force
in the case of other citizens. In a word, I have never yet
been able to find one consideration, one argument, or sugges-
tion in favor of man's right to participate in civil government
which did not equally apply to the right of woman.


CHAPTER XIX.
On the day of the interment of the late James A. Garfield,
at Lake View Cemetery, Cleveland, Ohio, a day of gloom long
to be remembered as the closing scene in one of the most
tragic and startling dramas ever witnessed in this, or in any
other country, the colored people of the District of Columbia
assembled in the Fifteenth street Presbyterian church, and
expressed by appropriate addresses and resolutions, their re-
spect for the character and memory of the illustrious deceased.
On that occasion I was called on to preside, and by way of
introducing the subsequent proceedings, (leaving to others
the grateful office of delivering eulogies) made the following
brief reference to the solemn and touching event.
“Friends and fellow citizens:
To-day our common mother Earth has closed over the
mortal remains of James A. Garfield, at Cleveland, Ohio.
The light of no day in our national history has brought to the
American people a more intense bereavement, a deeper sor-
row, or a more profound sense of humiliation. It seems only
as yesterday, that in my quality as United States Marshal of
the District of Columbia, it was made my duty and privilege
to walk at the head of the column in advance of this our
President-elect, from the crowded Senate Chamber of the
National Capitol, through the long corridors, and the grand
rotunda, beneath the majestic dome, to the platform on the
portico, where amid a sea of transcendent pomp and glory,
he who is now dead, was hailed with tumultuous applause from
uncounted thousands of his fellow citizens, and was inaugu-
rated Chief Magistrate of the United States. The scene was
one never to be forgotten by those who beheld it. It was a
great day for the nation, glad and proud to do honor to their
(483)

484 INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT GARFIELD.
chosen ruler. It was a glad day for James A. Garfield. It was
a glad day for me, that 1–one of the proscribed race, was per-
mitted to bear so prominent a part in its august ceremonies.
Mr. Garfield was then in the midst of his years, in the full-
ness and vigor of his manhood, covered with honors beyond
the reach of princes, entering upon a career more abundant
in promise than ever invited president or potentate before.
Alas, what a contrast, as he lay in state under the same
broad dome, viewed by sorrowful thousands day after day!
What is the life of man? What are all his plans, purposes,
and hopes? What are the shouts of the multitude, the pride
and pomp of this world? How vain and unsubstantial, in
the light of this sad and shocking experience, do they all
appear! Who can tell what a day or an hour will bring forth?
Such reflections inevitably present themselves, as most natu-
ral and fitting on an occasion like this.
Fellow citizens, we are here to take suitable notice of the
sad and appalling event of the hour. We are here, not
merely as American citizens, but as colored American citizens.
Although our hearts have gone along with those of the nation
at large, with every expression, with every token and demon-
stration of honor to the dead, sympathy with the living, and
abhorrence for the horrible deed which has at last done its
final work; though we have watched with beating hearts, the
long and heroic struggle for life, and endured all the agony
of suspense and fear; we have felt that something more,
something more specific and distinctive, was due from us.
Our relation to the American people makes us in some sense
a peculiar class, and unless we speak separately, our voice is
not heard. We therefore propose to put on record to-night
our sense of the worth of President Garfield, and of the
calamity involved in his death. Called to preside on this
occasion, my part in the speaking shall be brief. I cannot
claim to have been on intimate terms with the late President.
There are other gentlemen here, who are better qualified to
speak of his character than myself. I may say, however, that

HIS RECOGNITION OF THE RIGHTS OF COLORED CITIZENS. 485
soon after he came to Washington, I had a conversation with
him of much interest to the colored people, since it indicated
his just and generous intentions towards them, and goes far
to present him in the light of a wise and patriotic statesman,
and a friend of our race.
I called at the Executive Mansion, and was received very
kindly by Mr. Garfield, who, in the course of the conversation
said, that he felt the time had come when a step should be
taken in advance, in recognition of the claims of colored
citizens, and expressed his intention of sending some colored
representatives abroad to other than colored nations. He
enquired of me how I thought such representations would be
received? I assured him that I thought they would be well
received; that in my own experience abroad, I had observed
that the higher we go in the gradations of human society, the
farther we get from prejudice of race or color. I was greatly
pleased with the assurance of his liberal policy towards us.
I remarked to him, that no part of the American people
would be treated with respect, if systematically ignored by
the government, and denied all participation in its honors
and emoluments. To this he assented, and went so far as to
propose my going in a representative capacity to an impor-
tant post abroad—a compliment which I gratefully acknowl-
edged, but respectfully declined. To say the truth, I wished
to remain at home, and retain the office of United States
Marshal of the District of Columbia.
It is a great thing for Hon. John Mercer Langston to rep-
resent this republic at Port au Prince, and for Henry Highland
Garnet to represent us in Liberia, but it would be indeed a
step in advance, to have some colored men sent to represent
us in white nationalities, and we have reason for profound
*gret that Mr. Garfield could not have lived to carry out his
just and wise intentions towards us. I might say more of this
°onversation, but I will not detain you except to say, that
America has had many great men, but no man among them
all has had better things said of him, than he who has been
*Yerently committed to the dust in Cleveland to-day.”

486 HIS EXPRESSED INTENTION TO TAKE A STEP FORWARD.
Mr. Douglass then called upon Professor Greener, who read
a series of resolutions eloquently expressive of their sense of
the great loss that had been sustained, and their sympathy
with the family of the late President. Prof. Greener then
spoke briefly and was followed by Prof. John M. Langston and
Rev. W. W. Hicks. All the speakers expressed their confi-
dence in President Arthur and in his ability to give the
country a wise and beneficial administration.
CONCLUSION.
As far as this volume can reach that point I have now
brought my readers to the end of my story. What may
remain of life to me, through what experiences I may pass,
what heights I may attain, into what depths I may fall, what
good or ill may come to me, or proceed from me in this breath-
ing world, where all is change, uncertainty, and largely at the
mercy of powers over which the individual man has no abso-
lute control, if thought worthy and useful, will probably be
told by others when I have passed from the busy stage of life.
I am not looking for any great changes in my fortunes
or achievements in the future. The most of the space of life
is behind me, and the sun of my day is nearing the horizon.
Notwithstanding all that is contained in this book my day has
been a pleasant one. My joys have far exceeded my sorrows,
and my friends have brought me far more than my enemies
have taken from me. I have written out my experience here,
not to exhibit my wounds and bruises to awaken and attract
sympathy to myself personally, but as a part of the history of
a profoundly interesting period in American life and progress.
I have meant it to be a small individual contribution to the
sum of knowledge of this special period, to be handed down to
after-coming generations which may want to know what things
were allowed and what prohibited; what moral, social, and
political relations subsisted between the different varieties of
the American people down to the last quarter of the nineteenth
century; and by what means they were modified and changed.
The time is at hand when the last American slave, and the

SUCCESS THE RESULT OF EFFORT. 487
last American slaveholder will disappear behind the curtain
which separates the living from the dead, and when neither
master nor slave will be left to tell the story of their respective
relations, and what happened in those relations to either. My
part has been to tell the story of the slave. The story of the
master never wanted for narrators. They have had all the
talent and genius that wealth and influence could command to
tell their story. They have had their full day in court.
Literature, theology, philosophy, law, and learning, have come
willingly to their service, and if condemned they have not
been condemned unheard. -
It will be seen in these pages that I have lived several lives
in one. First, the life of slavery ; secondly, the life of a fugi-
tive from slavery; thirdly, the life of comparative freedom ;
fourthly, the life of conflict and battle; and, fifthly, the life
of victory, if not complete, at least assured. To those who
have suffered in slavery, I can say I too have suffered. To those
who have taken some risks and encountered hardships in the
flight from bondage, I can say I too have endured and risked.
To those who have battled for liberty, brotherhood, and citi-
Zenship, I can say I too have battled; and to those who have
lived to enjoy the fruits of victory, I can say I too live and
rejoice. If I have pushed my example too prominently for the
good taste of my Caucasian readers I beg them to remember
that I have written in part for the encouragement of a class
whose aspirations need the stimulus of success.
I have aimed to assure them that knowledge can be obtained
under difficulties; that poverty may give place to compe-
tency; that obscurity is not an absolute bar to distinction, and
that a way is open to welfare and happiness to all who will
resolutely and wisely pursue that way; that neither slavery,
stripes, imprisonment, or proscription, need extinguish self-
respect, crush manly ambition, or paralyze effort; that no
power outside of himself can prevent a man from sustaining
an honorable character and a useful relation to his day and
generation; that neither institutions nor friends can make a
race to stand unless it has strength in its own legs; that

488 THE LAWS OF THE UNIVERSE UNALTERABLE.
there is no power in the world which can be relied upon to
help the weak against the strong—the simple against the
wise; that races like individuals must stand or fall by their
own merits; that all the prayers of Christendom cannot stop
the force of a single bullet, divest arsenic of poison, or suspend
any law of nature. In my communication with the colored
people I have endeavored to deliver them from the power of
superstition, bigotry, and priest-craft. In theology I have
found them strutting about in the old clothes of the masters,
just as the masters strut about in the old clothes of the past.
The falling power remains among them long since it has
ceased to be the religious fashion of our refined and elegant
white churches. I have taught that the “fault is not in our
stars but in ourselves that we are underlings,” that “who
would be free, themselves must strike the blow.” I have
urged upon them self-reliance, self-respect, industry, persever-
ance, and economy—to make the best of both worlds—but to
make the best of this world first because it comes first, and
that he who does not improve himself by the motives and
opportunities afforded by this world gives the best evidence
that he would not improve in any other world. Schooled as I
have been among the abolitionists of New England, I recognize
that the universe is governed by laws which are unchangeable
and eternal, that what men sow they will reap, and that there
is no way to dodge or circumvent the consequences of any act
or deed. My views at this point receive but limited endorse-
ment among my people. They for the most part think they
have means of procuring special favor and help from the
Almighty, and as their “faith is the substance of things hoped
for and the evidence of things not seen,” they find much in
this expression which is true to faith but utterly false to fact,
But I meant here only to say a word in conclusion. Forty
years of my life have been given to the cause of my people,
and if I had forty years more they should all be sacredly given
to the great cause. If I have done something for that cause,
I am after all more a debtor to it than it is debtor to me,

A PP ENT) IX.
ORATION BY FREDERICK DOUGLASS, DELIVERED ON THE OCCASION
of THE UNVEILING OF THE FREEDMEN'S MONUMENT, IN MEM-
ORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, IN LINCOLN PARK, WASHINGTON,
D. C., APRIL 14, 1876.
Friends and fellow citizens:
I warmly congratulate you upon the highly interesting
object which has caused you to assemble in such numbers and
spirit as you have to-day. This occasion is in some respects
remarkable. Wise and thoughtful men of our race, who
shall come after us, and study the lesson of our history in the
United States; who shall survey the long and dreary spaces
over which we have traveled; who shall count the links in
the great chain of events by which we have reached our
present position, will make a note of this occasion; they will
think of it and speak of it with a sense of manly pride and
complacency.
I congratulate you, also, upon the very favorable circum-
stances in which we meet to-day. They are high, inspiring,
and uncommon. They lend grace, glory, and significance to
the object for which we have met. Nowhere else in this
great country, with its uncounted towns and cities, unlimited
wealth, and immeasurable territory extending from sea to
Sea, could conditions be found more favorable to the success
of this occasion than here.
We stand to-day at the national center to perform some-
thing like a national act—an act which is to go into history;
and we are here where every pulsation of the national heart
ºn be heard, felt, and reciprocated. A thousand wires, fed
(489)

490 CONTRAST BETWEEN THE PAST AND PRESENT.
with thought and winged with lightning, put us in instantane-
ous communication with the loyal and true men all over this
country. -
Few facts could better illustrate the vast and wonderfu
change which has taken place in our condition as a people,
than the fact of our assembling here for the purpose we have
to-day. Harmless, beautiful, proper, and praiseworthy as this
demonstration is, I cannot forget that no such demonstration
would have been tolerated here twenty years ago. The spirit
of slavery and barbarism, which still lingers to blight and
destroy in some dark and distant parts of our country, would
have made our assembling here the signal and excuse for
opening upon us all the flood-gates of wrath and violence.
That we are here in peace to-day is a compliment and a credit
to American civilization, and a prophecy of still greater
national enlightenment and progress in the future. I refer to
the past not in malice, for this is no day for malice; but sim-
ply to place more distinctly in front the gratifying and glori-
ous change which has come both to our white fellow-citizens
and ourselves, and to congratulate all upon the contrast
between now and then ; the new dispensation of freedom with
its thousand blessings to both races, and the old dispensation
of slavery with its ten thousand evils to both races—white
and black. In view, then, of the past, the present, and the
future, with the long and dark history of our bondage behind
us, and with liberty, progress, and enlightenment before us, I
again congratulate you upon this auspicious day and hour.
Friends and fellow citizens, the story of our presence here
is soon and easily told. We are here in the District of Co-
lumbia, here in the city of Washington, the most luminous
point of American territory; a city recently transformed and
made beautiful in its body and in its spirit; we are here in
the place where the ablest and best men of the country are
sent to devise the policy, enact the laws, and shape the des-
tiny of the Republic; we are here, with the stately pillars
and majestic dome of the Capitol of the nation looking down
-
GRATITUDE TO ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 491
upon us; we are here, with the broad earth freshly adorned
with the foliage and flowers of spring for our church, and all
races, colors, and conditions of men for our congregation—in
a word, we are here to express, as best we may, by appropri-
ate forms and ceremonies, our grateful sense of the vast, high,
and prečminent services rendered to ourselves, to our race, to
our country, and to the whole world by Abraham Lincoln.
The sentiment that brings us here to-day is one of the
noblest that can stir and thrill the human heart. It has
crowned and made glorious the high places of all civilized
nations with the grandest and most enduring works of art,
designed to illustrate the characters and perpetuate the mem-
ories of great public men. It is the sentiment which from
year to year adorns with fragrant and beautiful flowers the
graves of our loyal, brave, and patriotic soldiers who fell in
defence of the Union and liberty. It is the sentiment of
gratitude and appreciation, which often, in the presence of
many who hear me, has filled yonder heights of Arlington
with the eloquence of eulogy and the sublime enthusiasm of
poetry and song; a sentiment which can never die while the
Republic lives.
For the first time in the history of our people, and in the
history of the whole American people, we join in this high
worship, and march conspicuously in the line of this time-
honored custom. First things are always interesting, and
this is one of our first things. It is the first time that, in
this form and manner, we have sought to do honor to an
American great man, however deserving and illustrious. I
commend the fact to notice; let it be told in every part of
the Republic; let men of all parties and opinions hear it; let
those who despise us, not less than those who respect us,
know that now and here, in the spirit of liberty, loyalty, and
gratitude, let it be known everywhere, and by everybody who
takes an interest in human progress and in the amelioration
of the condition of mankind, that, in the presence and with
the approval of the members of the American House of Rep-




492 ABRAHAM LINcoln–THE whitº MAN's PRESIDENT.
resentatives, reflecting the general sentiment of the country:
that in the presence of that august body, the American Sen-
ate, representing the highest intelligence and the calmest
judgment in the country; in presence of the Supreme Court
and Chief-Justice of the United States, to whose decisions
we all patriotically bow; in the presence and under the steady
eye of the honored and trusted President of the United
States, with the members of his wise and patriotic Cabinet,
we, the colored people, newly emancipated and rejoicing in
our blood-bought freedom, near the close of the first century
in the life of this Republic, have now and here unveiled, set
apart, and dedicated a monument of enduring granite and
bronze, in every line, feature, and figure of which the men of
this generation may read, and those of after-coming genera-
tions may read, something of the exalted character and great
works of Abraham Lincoln, the first martyr President of the
United States.
Fellow citizens, in what we have said and done to-day, and
in what we may say and do hereafter, we disclaim everything
like arrogance and assumption. We claim for ourselves no
superior devotion to the character, history, and memory of
the illustrious name whose monument we have here dedicated
to-day. We fully comprehend the relation of Abraham Lin-
coln both to ourselves and to the white people of the United
States. Truth is proper and beautiful at all times and in all
places, and it is never more proper and beautiful in any case
than when speaking of a great public man whose example is
likely to be commended for honor and imitation long after his
departure to the solemn shades, the silent continents of
eternity. It must be admitted, truth compels me to admit,
even here in the presence of the monument we have erected
to his memory, Abraham Lincoln was not, in the fullest sense
of the word, either our man or our model. In his interests,
in his associations, in his habits of thought, and in his preju-
dices, he was a white man.
He was prečminently the white man's President, entirely

sworn to DEFEND SLAVERY UNDER THE CONSTITUTION. 493
devoted to the welfare of white men. He was ready and
willing at any time during the first years of his administra-
tion to deny, postpone, and sacrifice the rights of humanity
in the colored people to promote the welfare of the white
people of this country. In all his education and feeling he
was an American of the Americans. He came into the Pres-
idential chair upon one principle alone, namely, opposition to
the extension of slavery. His arguments in furtherance of
this policy had their motive and mainspring in his patriotic
devotion to the interests of his own race. To protect, defend,
and perpetuate slavery in the States where it existed Abraham
Lincoln was not less ready than any other President to draw
the sword of the nation. He was ready to execute all the
supposed constitutional guarantees of the United States Con-
stitution in favor of the slave system anywhere inside the
slave States. He was willing to pursue, recapture, and send
back the fugitive slave to his master, and to suppress a slave
rising for liberty, though his guilty master were already in
arms against the Government. The race to which we belong
were not the special objects of his consideration. Knowing
this, I concede to you, my white fellow citizens, a preeminence
in this worship at once full and supreme. First, midst, and
last, you and yours were the objects of his deepest affection
and his most earnest solicitude. You are the children of
Abraham Lincoln. We are at best only his step-children;
children by adoption, children by force of circumstances and
necessity. To you it especially belongs to sound his praises,
to preserve and perpetuate his memory, to multiply his statues,
to hang his pictures high upon your walls, and commend his
example, for to you he was a great and glorious friend and
benefactor. Instead of supplanting you at this altar, we
would exhort you to build high his monuments; let them be
of the most costly material, of the most cunning workman-
ship; let their forms be symmetrical, beautiful, and perfect;
let their bases be upon solid rocks, and their summits lean
against the unchanging blue, overhanging sky, and let them

494 THE colorºpp MAN BELIEVED IN HIM AND waſtED.
endure forever! But while in the abundance of your wealth,
and in the fullness of your just and patriotic devotion, you
do all this, we entreat you to despise not the humble offering
we this day unveil to view; for while Abraham Lincoln saved
for you a country, he delivered us from a bondage, according
to Jefferson, one hour of which was worse than ages of the
oppression your fathers rose in rebellion to oppose.
Fellow citizens, ours is no new-born zeal and devotion—
merely a thing of this moment. The name of Abraham Lin-
coln was near and dear to our hearts in the darkest and most
perilous hours of the Republic. We were no more ashamed
of him when shrouded in clouds of darkness, of doubt, and
defeat than when we saw him crowned with victory, honor,
and glory. Our faith in him was often taxed and strained to
the uttermost, but it never failed. When he tarried long in the
mountain; when he strangely told us that we were the cause
of the war; when he still more strangely told us to leave the
land in which we were born; when he refused to employ our
arms in defence of the Union; when, after accepting our ser-
vices as colored soldiers, he refused to retaliate our murder
and torture as colored prisoners; when he told us he would
save the Union if he could with slavery; when he revoked
the Proclamation of Emancipation of General Frémont;
when he refused to remove the popular commander of the
Army of the Potomac, in the days of its inaction and defeat,
who was more zealous in his efforts to protect slavary than to
suppress rebellion; when we saw all this, and more, we were
at times grieved, stunned, and greatly bewildered; but our
hearts believed while they ached and bled. Nor was this,
even at that time, a blind and unreasoning superstition. Des-
pite the mist and haze that surround him; despite the tumult,
the hurry, and confusion of the hour, we were able to take a
comprehensive view of Abraham Lincoln, and to make rea-
sonable allowance for the circumstances of his position.
We saw him, measured him, and estimated him; not by stray
utterances to injudicious and tedious delegations, who often

two HUNDRED THous AND of THEM join THE UNION ARMY. 495
tried his patience; not by isolated facts torn from their con-
nection; not by any partial and imperfect glimpses, caught at
inopportune moments; but by a broad survey, in the light of
the stern logic of great events, and in view of that “divinity
which shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will,” we came
to the conclusion that the hour and the man of our redemp-
tion had somehow met in the person of Abraham Lincoln. It
mattered little to us what language he might employ on special
occasions; it mattered little to us, when we fully knew him,
whether he was swift or slow in his movements; it was
enough for us that Abraham Lincoln was at the head of a
great movement, and was in living and earnest sympathy
with that movement, which, in the nature of things, must go
on until slavery should be utterly and forever abolished in the
United States.
When, therefore, it shall be asked what we have to do with
the memory of Abraham Lincoln, or what Abraham Lincoln
had to do with us, the answer is ready, full, and complete.
Though he loved Caesar less than Rome, though the Union
was more to him than our freedom or our future, under his
wise and beneficent rule we saw ourselves gradually lifted
from the depths of slavery to the heights of liberty and man-
hood; under his wise and beneficent rule, and by measures
approved and vigorously pressed by him, we saw that the
handwriting of ages, in the form of prejudice and pro-
scription, was rapidly fading away from the face of our whole
country; under his rule, and in due time, about as soon
after all as the country could tolerate the strange spectacle,
We saw our brave sons and brothers laying off the rags of
bondage, and being clothed all over in the blue uniforms of
the soldiers of the United States; under his rule we saw two
hundred thousand of our dark and dusky people responding
to the call of Abraham Lincoln, and with muskets on their
shoulders, and eagles on their buttons, timing their high foot-
steps to liberty and union under the national flag; under his
rule we saw the independence of the black republic of Hayti,

496 THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION CONFIRMS THEIR HOPES,
the special object of slaveholding aversion and horror, fully
recognized, and her minister, a colored gentleman, duly re-
ceived here in the city of Washington; under his rule we saw
the internal slave-trade, which so long disgraced the nation,
abolished, and slavery abolished in the District of Columbia;
under his rule we saw for the first time the law enforced
against the foreign slave-trade, and the first slave-trader
hanged like any other pirate or murderer; under his rule,
assisted by the greatest captain of our age, and his inspira-
tion, we saw the Confederate States, based upon the idea that
our race must be slaves, and slaves forever, battered to pieces
and scattered to the four winds; under his rule, and in the
fullness of time, we saw Abraham Lincoln, after giving the
slaveholders three months' grace in which to save their hate-
ful slave system, penning the immortal paper, which, though
special in its language, was general in its principles and effect,
making slavery forever impossible in the United States.
Though we waited long, we saw all this and more.
Can any colored man, or any white man friendly to the
freedom of all men, ever forget the night which followed the
first day of January, 1863, when the world was to see if
Abraham Lincoln would prove to be as good as his word?
I shall never forget that memorable night, when in a distant
city I waited and watched at a public meeting, with three
thousand others not less anxious than myself, for the word
of deliverance which we have heard read to-day. Nor shall I
ever forget the outburst of joy and thanksgiving that rent the
air when the lightning brought to us the emancipation proc-
lamation. In that happy hour we forgot all delay, and forgot
all tardiness, forgot that the President had bribed the rebels
to lay down their arms by a promise to withhold the bolt
which would smite the slave-system with destruction; and we
were thenceforward willing to allow the President all the
latitude of time, phraseology, and every honorable device that
statesmanship might require for the achievement of a great
and beneficent measure of liberty and progress.

LINCOLN's GREAT MISSION. 497
Fellow citizens, there is little necessity on this occasion to
speak at length and critically of this great and good man,
and of his high mission in the world. That ground has been
fully occupied and completely covered both here and else-
where. The whole field of fact and fancy has been gleaned
and garnered. Any man can say things that are true of
Abraham Lincoln, but no man can say anything that is new
of Abraham Lincoln. His personal traits and public acts are
better known to the American people than are those of any
other man of his age. He was a mystery to no man who saw
him and heard him. Though high in position, the humblest
could approach him and feel at home in his presence. Though
deep he was transparent; though strong, he was gentle;
though decided and pronounced in his convictions, he was tol-
erant towards those who differed from him, and patient under
reproaches. Even those who only knew him through his
public utterances obtained a tolerably clear idea of his char-
acter and his personality. The image of the man went out
with his words, and those who read them, knew him.
I have said that President Lincoln was a white man, and
shared the prejudices common to his countrymen towards the
colored race. Looking back to his times and to the condition
of his country, we are compelled to admit that this unfriendly
feeling on his part may be safely set down as one element of
his wonderful success in organizing the loyal American people
for the tremendous conflict before them, and bringing them
safely through that conflict. His great mission was to accom-
plish two things: first, to save his country from dismember-
ment and ruin; and second, to free his country from the
great crime of slavery. To do one or the other, or both, he
must have the earnest sympathy and the powerful coöperation
of his loyal fellow-countrymen. Without this primary and
essential condition to success his efforts must have been vain
and utterly fruitless. Had he put the abolition of slavery
before the salvation of the Union, he would have inevitably
driven from him a powerful class of the American people and

498 TIME –THE IMPARTIAL JUDGE.
rendered resistance to rebellion impossible. Viewed from the
genuine abolition ground, Mr. Lincoln seemed tardy, cold, dull,
and indifferent; but measuring him by the sentiment of his
country, a sentiment he was bound as a statesman to consult,
he was swift, zealous, radical, and determined.
Though Mr. Lincoln shared the prejudices of his white
fellow countrymen against the negro, it is hardly necessary to
say that in his heart of hearts he loathed and hated slavery.*
The man who could say, “Fondly do we hope, fervently do we
pray, that this mighty scourge of war shall soon pass away,
yet if God wills it continue till all the wealth piled by two
hundred years of bondage shall have been wasted, and each
drop of blood drawn by the lash shall have been paid for by
one drawn by the sword, the judgments of the Lord are true
and righteous altogether,” gives all needed proof of his feel-
ing on the subject of slavery. He was willing, while the
South was loyal, that it should have its pound of flesh,
because he thought it was so nominated in the bond; but
farther than this no earthly power could make him go.
Fellow citizens, whatever else in the world may be partial,
unjust, and uncertain, time, time! is impartial, just, and
certain in its action. In the realm of mind, as well as
in the realm of matter, it is a great worker, and often works
wonders. The honest and comprehensive statesman, clearly
discerning the needs of his country, and earnestly endeavor-
ing to do his whole duty, though covered and blistered with
reproaches, may safely leave his course to the silent judg-
ment of time. Few great public men have ever been the
victims of fiercer denunciation than Abraham Lincoln was
during his administration. He was often wounded in the
house of his friends. Reproaches came thick and fast upon
him from within and from without, and from opposite quar-
ters. He was assailed by abolitionists; he was assailed by
*“I am naturally anti-slavery. If slavery is not wrong, nothing is
wrong. I cannot remember when I did not so think and feel.”—Letter ºf
Mr. Lincoln to Mr. Hodges, of Kentucky, April 4, 1864.

THE HARDSHIPS OF EARLY LIFE PREPARED HIM FOR THE MISSION. 499
slaveholders; he was assailed by the men who were for peace
at any price; he was assailed by those who were for a more
vigorous prosecution of the war; he was assailed for not
making the war an abolition war; and he was most bitterly
assailed for making the war an abolition war.
But now behold the change: the judgment of the present
hour is, that taking him for all in all, measuring the tremen-
dous magnitude of the work before him, considering the
necessary means to ends, and surveying the end from the begin-
ning, infinite wisdom has seldom sent any man into the world
better fitted for his mission than Abraham Lincoln. His
birth, his training, and his natural endowments, both mental
and physical, were strongly in his favor. Born and reared
among the lowly, a stranger to wealth and luxury, compelled
to grapple single-handed with the flintiest hardships of life,
from tender youth to sturdy manhood, he grew strong in the
manly and heroic qualities demanded by the great mission to
which he was called by the votes of his countrymen. The
hard condition of his early life, which would have depressed
and broken down weaker men, only gave greater life, vigor,
and buoyancy to the heroic spirit of Abraham Lincoln. He
was ready for any kind and quality of work. What other
young men dreaded in the shape of toil, he took hold of with
the utmost cheerfulness.
A spade, a rake, a hoe,
- A pick-axe, or a bill;
A hook to reap, a scythe to mow,
A flail, or what you will.
All day long he could split heavy rails in the woods, and
half the night long he could study his English Grammar by
the uncertain flare and glare of the light made by a pine-knot.
He was at home on the land with his axe, with his maul, with
gluts, and his wedges; and he was equally at home on
water, with his oars, with his poles, with his planks, and with
his boat-hooks, And whether in his flat-boat on the Mis-

500 HIS SOUND PATRIOTISM.
sissipi river, or on the fireside of his frontier cabin, he was a
man of work. A son of toil himself, he was linked in
brotherly sympathy with the sons of toil in every loyal part
of the republic. This very fact gave him tremendous power
with the American people, and materially contributed not only
to selecting him to the Presidency, but in sustaining his
administration of the government. -
Upon his inauguration as President of the United States,
an office, even where assumed under the most favorable con-
ditions, fitted to tax and strain the largest abilities, Abra-
ham Lincoln was met by a tremendous crisis. He was called
upon not merely to administer the government, but to decide,
in the face of terrible odds, the fate of the Republic.
A formidable rebellion rose in his path before him; the
Union was practically dissolved; his country was torn and
rent asunder at the center. Hostile armies were already
organized against the republic, armed with the munitions of
war which the republic had provided for its own defence.
The tremendous question for him to decide was whether his
country should survive the crisis and flourish, or be dismem-
bered and perish. His predecessor in office had already
decided the question in favor of national dismemberment, by
denying to it the right of self-defence and self-preservation–
a right which belongs to the meanest insect.
Happily for the country, happily for you and for me, the
judgment of James Buchanan, the patrician, was not the
judgment of Abraham Lincoln, the plebeian. He brought his
strong common sense, sharpened in the school of adversity,
to bear upon the question. He did not hesitate, he did not
doubt, he did not falter; but at once resolved at whatever
peril, at whatever cost, the union of the States should be
preserved. A patriot himself, his faith was strong and
unwavering in the patriotism of his countrymen. Timid men
said before Mr. Lincoln's inauguration, that we had seen the
last President of the United States. A voice in influential
quarters said “Let the Union slide,” Some said that a Union

HIS ASSASSINATION. 501
maintained by the sword was worthless. Others said a rebel-
lion of 8,000,000 cannot be suppressed; but in the midst of
all this tumult and timidity, and against all this, Abraham
Lincoln was clear in his duty, and had an oath in heaven.
He calmly and bravely heard the voice of doubt and fear all
around him; but he had an oath in heaven, and there was not
power enough on earth to make this honest boatman, back-
woodsman, and broad-handed splitter of rails evade or violate
that sacred oath. He had not been schooled in the ethics of
slavery; his plain life had favored his love of truth. He had
not been taught that treason and perjury were the proof of
honor and honesty. His moral training was against his say-
ing one thing when he meant another. The trust which
Abraham Lincoln had in himself and in the people was sur-
prising and grand, but it was also enlightened and well-
founded. He knew the American people better than they
knew themselves, and his truth was based upon this knowl-
edge. -
Fellow citizens, the fourteenth day of April, 1865, of
which this is the eleventh anniversary, is now and will ever
remain a memorable day in the annals of this republic. It
was on the evening of this day, while a fierce and sanguinary
rebellion was in the last stages of its desolating power; while
its armies were broken and scattered before the invincible
armies of Grant and Sherman; while a great nation, torn
and rent by war, was already beginning to raise to the skies
loud anthems of joy at the dawn of peace, it was startled,
amazed, and overwhelmed by the crowning crime of slavery–
the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. It was a new crime,
a pure act of malice. No purpose of the rebellion was to be
served by it. It was the simple gratification of a hell-black
spirit of revenge. But it has done good after all. It has
filled the country with a deeper abhorrence of slavery and a
deeper love for the great liberator.
Had Abraham Lincoln died from any of the numerous ills
to which flesh is heir; had he reached that good old age of

502 THE MONUMENT A TokEN OF THE COLORED MAN's GRATITUDE.
which his vigorous constitution and his temperate habits gave
promise; had he been permitted to see the end of his great
work; had the solemn curtain of death come down but grad-
ually—we should still have been smitten with a heavy grief,
and treasured his name lovingly. But dying as he did die,
by the red hand of violence, killed, assassinated, taken off
without warning, not because of personal hate—for no man
who knew Abraham Lincoln could hate him—but because of
his fidelity to union and liberty, he is doubly dear to us, and
his memory will be precious forever.
Fellow citizens, I end as I begun, with congratulations.
We have done a good work for our race to-day. In doing
honor to the memory of our friend and liberator, we have
been doing highest honors to ourselves and those who
come after us; we have been fastening ourselves to a name
and fame imperishable and immortal; we have also been
defending ourselves from a blighting scandal. When now it
shall be said that the colored man is soulless, that he has no
appreciation of benefits or benefactors; when the foul
reproach of ingratitude is hurled at us, and it is attempted to
scourge us beyond the range of human brotherhood, we may
calmly point to the monument we have this day erected to the
memory of Abraham Lincoln.
WEST INDIA EMANCIPATION.
Extract from a speech delivered by Frederick Douglass in
Elmira, N. Y., August 1, 1880, at a great meeting of colored
people, met to celebrate West India emancipation, and where
he was received with marked respect and approval by the pres-
ident of the day and the immense crowd there assembled. It
is placed in this book partly as a grateful tribute to the noble
transatlantic men and women through whose unwearied exer-
tions the system of negro slavery was finally abolished in all
the British Isles.
Mr. President –I thank you very sincerely for this cordial
greeting. I hear in your speech something like a welcome




-
-
dial
greeting. I hear in your speech something like a welcome
Mr. President —I thank you very sincerely for this tº

º
*




WEST INDIAN EMANCIPATION. 503
home after a long absence. More years of my life and labors
have been spent in this than in any other State of the Union.
Anywhere within a hundred miles of the goodly city of
Rochester, I feel myself at home and among friends. Within
that circumference, there resides a people which have no supe-
riors in point of enlightenment, liberality, and civilization.
Allow me to thank you also, for your generous words of sym-
pathy and approval. In respect to this important support to
a public man, I have been unusually fortunate. My forty
years of work in the cause of the oppressed and enslaved,
has been well noted, well appreciated, and well rewarded. All
classes and colors of men, at home and abroad, have in this
way assisted in holding up my hands. Looking back through
these long years of toil and conflict, during which I have had
blows to take as well as blows to give, and have sometimes
received wounds and bruises, both in body and in mind, my
only regret is that I have been enabled to do so little to lift
up and strengthen our long enslaved and still oppressed peo-
ple. My apology for these remarks personal to myself, is in
the fact that I am now standing mainly in the presence of a
new generation. Most of the men with whom I lived and
labored in the early years of the abolition movement, have
passed beyond the borders of this life. Scarcely any of the
colored men who advocated our cause, and who started when
I did, are now numbered among the living, and I begin to feel
somewhat lonely. But while I have the sympathy and ap-
proval of men and women like these before me, I shall give
with joy my latest breath in support of your claim to justice,
liberty, and equality among men. The day we celebrate is
prečminently the colored man's day. The great event by which
it is distinguished, and by which it will forever be distin-
guished from all other days of the year, has justly claimed
thoughtful attention among statesmen and social reformers
throughout the world. While to them it is a luminous point
in human history, and worthy of thought in the colored man,
it addresses not merely the intelligence, but the feeling. The

504 THE FIRST BRIGHT STAR.
emancipation of our brothers in the West Indies comes home
to us and stirs our hearts and fills our souls with those grate-
ful sentiments which link mankind in a common brotherhood.
In the history of the American conflict with slavery, the
day we celebrate has played an important part. Emancipa-
tion in the West Indies was the first bright star in a stormy
sky; the first smile after a long providential frown; the first
ray of hope; the first tangible fact demonstrating the possi-
bility of a peaceable transition from slavery to freedom of the
negro race. Whoever else may forget or slight the claims of
this day, it can never be other to us than memorable and
glorious. The story of it shall be brief and soon told. Six-
and-forty years ago, on the day we now celebrate, there went
forth over the blue waters of the Carribean sea a great mes-
sage from the British throne, hailed with startling shouts of
joy and thrilling songs of praise. That message liberated, set
free, and brought within the pale of civilization eight hundred
thousand people, who, till then, had been esteemed as beasts
of burden. How vast, sudden, and startling was this trans-
formation. In one moment, a mere tick of a watch, the
twinkle of an eye, the glance of the morning sun, saw a bond-
age which had resisted the humanity of ages, defied earth and
heaven, instantly ended; saw the slave-whip burnt to ashes;
saw the slave's chains melted; saw his fetters broken, and the
irresponsible power of the slave-master over his victim forever
destroyed.
I have been told by eye-witnesses of the scene, that, in the
first moment of it, the emancipated hesitated to accept it for
what it was. They did not know whether to receive it as a
reality, a dream, or a vision of the fancy.
No wonder they were thus amazed, and doubtful, after their
terrible years of darkness and sorrow, which seemed to have
no end. Like much other good news, it was thought too good
to be true. But the silence and hesitation they observed was
only momentary. When fully assured the good tidings which
had come across the sea to them, were not only good but true;

WHY WE CELEBRATE IT. 505
that they were indeed no longer slaves, but free; that the lash
of the slave-driver was no longer in the air, but buried in the
earth; that their limbs were no longer chained, but subject to
their own will, the manifestations of their joy and gratitude
knew no bounds, and sought expression in the loudest and
wildest possible forms. They ran about, they danced, they
sang, they gazed into the blue sky, bounded into the air,
kneeled, prayed, shouted, rolled upon the ground, embraced
each other. They laughed and wept for joy. Those who
witnessed the scene say they never saw anything like it
before.
We are sometimes asked why we American citizens annu-
ally celebrate West India emancipation when we might cele-
brate American emancipation. Why go abroad, say they,
when we might as well stay at home 2
The answer is easily given. Human liberty excludes all
idea of home and abroad. It is universal and spurns local-
ization.
“When a deed is done for freedom,
Through the broad earth's aching breast
Runs a thrill of joy prophetic,
Trembling on from East to West.”
It is bounded by no geographical lines and knows no na-
tional limitations. Like the glorious sun of the heavens, its
light shines for all. But besides this general consideration,
this boundless power and glory of liberty, West India Eman-
cipation has claims upon us as an event in this nineteenth
century in which we live, for rich as this century is in moral
and material achievements, in progress and civilization, it can
claim nothing for itself greater and grander than this act of
West India Emancipation.
Whether we consider the matter or the manner of it, the
tree or its fruit, it is noteworthy, memorable, and sublime.
Especially is the manner of its accomplishment worthy of
consideration. Its best lesson to the world, its most encour-
aging word to all who toil and trust in the cause of justice

506 ITS RELATION TO EMANCIPATION IN THIS COUNTRY.
and liberty, to all who oppose oppression and slavery, is a
word of sublime faith and courage—faith in the truth and
courage in the expression. -
Great and valuable concessions have in different ages been
made to the liberties of mankind. They have, however, come
not at the command of reason and persuasion, but by the
sharp and terrible edge of the sword. To this rule West
India Emancipation is a splendid exception. It came, not by
the sword, but by the word; not by the brute force of numbers,
but by the still small voice of truth; not by barricades, bayo-
nets, and bloody revolution, but by peaceful agitation; not by
divine interference, but by the exercise of simple, human
reason and feeling. I repeat, that, in this peculiarity, we have
what is most valuable to the human race generally.
It is a revelation of a power inherent in human society.
It shows what can be done against wrong in the world, with-
out the aid of armies on the earth or of angels in the sky.
It shows that men have in their own hands the peaceful means
of putting all their moral and political enemies under their
feet, and of making this world a healthy and happy dwelling-
place, if they will faithfully and courageously use them.
The world needed just such a revelation of the power of
conscience and of human brotherhood, one that overleaped
the accident of color and of race, and set at naught the whis-
perings of prejudice. The friends of freedom in England saw
in the negro a man, a moral and responsible being. Having
settled this in their own minds, they, in the name of humanity,
denounced the crime of his enslavement. It was the faithful,
persistent, and enduring enthusiasm of Thomas Clarkson,
William Wilberforce, Granville Sharpe, William Knibb, Henry
Brougham, Thomas Fowell Buxton, Daniel O'Connell, George
Thompson, and their noble co-workers that finally thawed the
British heart into sympathy for the slave, and moved the
strong arm of that Government in mercy to put an end to his
bondage.
Let no American, especially no colored American, withhold

THE CAUSE OF HUMAN LIBERTY IS UNIVERSAL. 507
a generous recognition of this stupendous achievement. What
though it was not American, but British ; what though it was
not Republican, but Monarchical; what though it was not from
the American Congress, but from the British Parliament;
what though it was not from the chair of a President, but
from the throne of a Queen, it was none the less a triumph
of right over wrong, of good over evil, and a victory for the
whole human race.
Besides: We may properly celebrate this day because of its
special relation to our American Emancipation. In doing this
we do not sacrifice the general to the special, the universal to
the local. The cause of human liberty is one the whole world
over. The downfall of slavery under British power meant
the downfall of slavery, ultimately, under American power,
and the downfall of negro slavery everywhere. But the effect
of this great and philanthropic measure, naturally enough,
was greater here than elsewhere. Outside the British Empire
no other nation was in a position to feel it so much as we.
The stimulus it gave to the American anti-slavery movement
was immediate, pronounced, and powerful. British example
became a tremendous lever in the hands of American aboli-
tionists. It did much to shame and discourage the spirit of
caste and the advocacy of slavery in church and state. It
could not well have been otherwise. No man liveth unto
himself.
What is true in this respect of individual men, is equally
true of nations. Both impart good or ill to their age and
generation. But putting aside this consideration, so worthy
of thought, we have special reasons for claiming the First of
August as the birth-day of negro emancipation, not only in the
West Indies, but in the United States. Spite of our national
Independence, a common language, a common literature, a
common history, and a common civilization makes us and keeps
us still a part of the British nation, if not a part of the British
Empire. England can take no step forward in the pathway of
a higher civilization without drawing us in the same direction.

508 ANTI-SLAVERY SENTIMENT PROVOKED SECESSION.
She is still the mother country, and the mother, too, of our
abolition movement. Though her emancipation came in peace,
and ours in war; though hers cost treasure, and ours blood;
though hers was the result of a sacred preference, and ours
resulted in part from necessity, the motive and mainspring of
the respective measures were the same in both.
The abolitionists of this country have been charged with
bringing on the war between the North and South, and in one
sense this is true. Had there been no anti-slavery agitation
at the North, there would have been no active anti-slavery
anywhere to resist the demands of the slave-power at the
South, and where there is no resistance there can be no war.
Slavery would then have been nationalized, and the whole
country would then have been subjected to its power. Resist-
ance to slavery and the extension of slavery invited and
provoked secession and war to perpetuate and extend the slave
system. Thus in the same sense, England is responsible for
our civil war. The abolition of slavery in the West Indies
gave life and vigor to the abolition movement in America.
Clarkson of England gave us Garrison of America; Granville
Sharpe of England gave us our Wendell Phillips; and Wilber-
force of England gave us our peerless Charles Sumner.
These grand men and their brave co-workers here, took up
the moral thunder-bolts which had struck down slavery in
the West Indies, and hurled them with increased zeal and
power against the gigantic system of slavery here, till, goaded
to madness, the trafficers in the souls and bodies of men flew
to arms, rent asunder the Union at the center, and filled the
land with hostile armies and the ten thousand horrors of war.
Out of this tempest, out of this whirlwind and earthquake of
war, came the abolition of slavery, came the employment of
colored troops, came colored citizens, came colored jurymen,
came colored congressmen, came colored schools in the South,
and came the great amendments of our national constitution.
We celebrate this day, too, for the very good reason that
we have no other to celebrate. English emancipation has one

AGITATION AND WAR EFFECTED EMANCIPATION. 509
advantage over American emancipation. Hers has a definite
anniversary. Ours has none. Like our slaves, the freedom
of the negro has no birthday. No man can tell the day of the
month, or the month of the year, upon which slavery was
abolished in the United States. We cannot even tell when it
began to be abolished. Like the movement of the sea, no
man can tell where one wave begins and another ends. The
chains of slavery with us were loosened by degrees. First,
we had the struggle in Kansas with border ruffians; next, we
had John Brown at Harper's Ferry; next, the firing upon Fort
Sumter; a little while after, we had Fremont's order, freeing
the slaves of the rebels in Missouri. Then we had General
Butler declaring and treating the slaves of rebels as contra-
band of war; next we had the proposition to arm colored men
and make them soldiers for the Union. In 1862 we had the
conditional promise of a proclamation of emancipation from
President Lincoln, and, finally, on the 1st of January, 1863,
we had the proclamation itself—and still the end was not yet.
Slavery was bleeding and dying, but it was not dead, and no
man can tell just when its foul spirit departed from our land, if,
indeed, it has yet departed, and hence we do not know what
day we may properly celebrate as coupled with this great
American event.
When England behaved so badly during our late civil war,
I, for one, felt like giving up these 1st of August celebrations.
But I remembered that during that war, there were two
Englands, as there were two Americas, and that one was true
to liberty while the other was true to slavery. It was not the
England which gave us West India emancipation that took
sides with the slaveholder's rebellion. It was not the England
of John Bright and William Edward Forster, that permitted
Alabamas to escape from British ports, and prey upon our
commerce, or that otherwise favored slaveholding in the South,
but it was the England which had done what it could to pre-
Vent West India emancipation.
It was the tory party in England that fought the abolition

510 wn AT ARE THE RESULTS OF EMANCIPATION ?
party at home, and the same party it was, that favored our
slaveholding rebellion.
Under a different name, we had the same, or a similar
party, here; a party which despised the negro and consigned
him to perpetual slavery ; a party which was willing to allow
the American Union to be shivered into fragments, rather
than that one hair of the head of slavery should be injured.
But, follow-citizens, I should but very imperfectly fulfil the
duty of this hour if I confined myself to a merely historical
or philosophical discussion of West India emancipation. The
story of the 1st of August has been told a thousand times over,
and may be told a thousand times more. The cause of free-
dom and humanity has a history and destiny nearer home.
How stands the case with the recently emancipated millions
of colored people in our own country : What is their condi-
tion to-day : What is their relation to the people who for-
merly held them as slaves? These are important questions,
and they are such as trouble the minds of thoughtful men of
all colors, at home and abroad. By law, by the constitution
of the United States, slavery has no existence in our country.
The legal form has been abolished. By the law and the con-
stitution, the negro is a man and a citizen, and has all the
rights and liberties guaranteed to any other variety of the
human family, residing in the United States. -
He has a country, a flag, and a government, and may legally
claim full and complete protection under the laws. It was
the ruling wish, intention, and purpose of the loyal people
after rebellion was suppressed, to have an end to the entire
cause of that calamity by forever putting away the system of
slavery and all its incidents. In pursuance of this idea, the
negro was made free, made a citizen, made eligible to hold
office, to be a juryman, a legislator, and a magistrate. To this
end, several amendments to the constitution were proposed,
recommended, and adopted. They are now a part of the
supreme law of the land, binding alike upon every State and
Territory of the United States, North and South. Briefly,

FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH AMENDMENTS. 511
this is our legal and theoretical condition. This is our con-
dition on paper and parchment. If only from the national
statute book we were left to learn the true condition of the
colored race, the result would be altogether creditable to the
American people. It would give them a clear title to a place
among the most enlightened and liberal nations of the world.
We could say of our country, as Curran once said of England,
“The spirit of British law makes liberty commensurate with
and inseparable from the British soil.” Now I say that this
eloquent tribute to England, if only we looked into our con-
stitution, might apply to us. In that instrument we have laid
down the law, now and forever, that there shall be no slavery
or involuntary servitude in this republic, except for crime.
We have gone still further. We have laid the heavy hand
of the constitution upon the matchless meanness of caste, as
well as the hell-black crime of slavery. We have declared
before all the world that there shall be no denial of rights on
account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude. The
advantage gained in this respect is immense.
It is a great t ng to have the supreme law of the land on
the side of justice and liberty. It is the line up to which the
nation is destined to march—the law to which the nation’s
life must ultimately conform. It is a great principle, up to
which we may educate the people, and to this extent its value
exceeds all speech.
But to-day, in most of the Southern States, the fourteenth
and fifteenth amendments are virtually nullified. -
The rights which they were intended to guarantee are de-
nied and held in contempt. The citizenship granted in the
fourteenth amendment is practically a mockery, and the right
to vote, provided for in the fifteenth amendment, is literally
stamped out in face of government. The old master class is
to-day triumphant, and the newly enfranchised class in a con-
dition but little above that in which they were found before
the rebellion.
Do you ask me how, after all that has been done, this state
512 GOOD IN DESIGN BUT VIRTUALLY NULLIFIED.
of things has been made possible : ) will tell you. Our recon-
struction measures were radically defective. They left the
former slave completely in the power of the old master, the
loyal citizen in the hands of the disloyal rebel against the
government. Wise, grand, and comprehensive in scope and
design, as were the reconstruction measures, high and honor-
able as were the intentions of the statesmen by whom they
were framed and adopted, time and experience, which try all
things, have demonstrated that they did not successfully meet
the case.
In the hurry and confusion of the hour, and the eager
desire to have the Union restored, there was more care for
sublime superstructure of the republic than for the solid
foundation upon which it could alone be upheld. They gave
freedmen the machinery of liberty, but denied them the steam
to put it in motion. They gave them the uniform of soldiers,
but no arms; they called them citizens, and left them subjects;
they called them free, and almost left them slaves. They did
not deprive the old master class of the power of life and death
which was the soul of the relation of master and slave. They
could not of course sell them, but they retained the power to
starve them to death, and wherever this power is held, there
is the power of slavery. He who can say to his fellow-man,
“You shall serve me or starve,” is a master, and his subject
is a slave. This was seen and felt by Thaddeus Stevens,
Charles Sumner, and leading stalwart Republicans, and had
their counsels prevailed the terrible evils from which we now
suffer would have been averted. The negro to-day would not
be on his knees, as he is, abjectly supplicating the old master
class to give him leave to toil. Nor would he now be leaving
the South as from a doomed city and seeking a home in the
uncongenial North, but tilling his native soil in comparative
independence. Though no longer a slave, he is in a thraldom
grievous and intolerable, compelled to work for whatever his
employer is pleased to pay him, swindled out of his hard earn-
ings by money orders redeemed in stores, compelled to pay


CoLoRED PEOPLE HAVE MADE REASONABLE PROGRESS. 513
the price of an acre of ground for its use during a single year,
to pay four times more than a fair price for a pound of bacon,
and be kept upon the narrowest margin between life and
starvation. Much complaint has been made that the freed-
men have shown so little ability to take care of themselves
since their emancipation. Men have marvelled that they have
made so little progress. I question the justice of this com-
plaint. It is neither reasonable, nor in any sense just. To
me, the wonder is, not that the freedmen have made so little
progress, but, rather, that they have made so much ; not that
they have been standing still, but that they have been able to
stand at all.
We have only to reflect for a moment upon the situation in
which these people found themselves when liberated: consider
their ignorance, their poverty, their destitution, and their
absolute dependence upon the very class by which they had
been held in bondage for centuries, a class whose every senti-
ment was averse to their freedom, and we shall be prepared
to marvel that they have under the circumstances done so
well.
History does not furnish an example of emancipation under
conditions less friendly to the emancipated class, than this
American example. Liberty came to the freedmen of the
United States, not in mercy but in wrath; not by moral
choice but by military necessity; not by the generous action
of the people among whom they were to live, and whose good
will was essential to the success of the measure, but by
strangers, foreigners, invaders, trespassers, aliens, and ene-
mies. The very manner of their emancipation invited to the
heads of the freedmen the bitterest hostility of race and class.
They were hated because they had been slaves, hated because
they were now free, and hated because of those who had freed
them. Nothing was to have been expected other than what
has happened, and he is a poor student of the human heart
who does not see that the old master class would naturally
*ploy every power and means in their reach to make the

514 THOUGH THEY WERE TURNED OUT WITHOUT FRIENDS.
great measure of emancipation unsuccessful and utterly odious.
It was born in the tempest and whirlwind of war, and has
lived in a storm of violence and blood. When the Hebrews
were emancipated, they were told to take spoil from the
Egyptians. When the serfs of Russia were emancipated,
they were given three acres of ground upon which they could
live and make a living. But not so when our slaves were
emancipated. They were sent away empty-handed, without
money, without friends, and without a foot of land to stand
upon. Old and young, sick and well, were turned loose to the
open sky, naked to their enemies. The old slave quarter that
had before sheltered them, and the fields that had yielded
them corn, were now denied them. The old master class in
its wrath said, “Clear out! The Yankees have freed you,
now let them feed and shelter you!”
Inhuman as was this treatment, it was the natural result of
the bitter resentment felt by the old master class, and in view
of it, the wonder is, not that the colored people of the South
have done so little in the way of acquiring a comfortable
living, but that they live at all.
Taking all the circumstances into consideration, the colored
people have no reason to despair. We still live, and while
there is life there is hope. The fact that we have endured
wrongs and hardships, which would have destroyed any other
race, and have increased in numbers and public consideration,
ought to strengthen our faith in ourselves and our future.
Let us then, wherever we are, whether at the North or at the
South, resolutely struggle on in the belief that there is a
better day coming, and that we by patience, industry, upright-
ness, and economy may hasten that better day. I will not
listen, myself, and I would not have you listen to the non-
sense, that no people can succeed in life among a people by
whom they have been despised and oppressed.
The statement is erroneous and contradicted by the whole
history of human progress. A few centuries ago, all Europe
was cursed with serfdom, or slavery. Traces of this bondage
still remain but are not easily visible.

A. LESSON IN POLITICAL ECONOMY. 515
The Jews, only a century ago were despised, hated, and
oppressed, but
they have defied, met, and vanquished the hard
conditions imposed upon them, and are now opulent and pow-
erful, and compel respect in all countries.
Take courage from the example of all religious denomina-
tions that have sprung up since Martin Luther. Each in its
turn, has been
oppressed and persecuted.
Methodists, Baptists, and Quakers, have all been compelled
to feel the lash and sting of popular disfavor—yet all in turn
have conquered the prejudice and hate of their surroundings.
Greatness does not come to any people on flowery beds of
ease. We must fight to win the prize. No people to whom
liberty is given, can hold it as firmly and wear it as grandly
as those who wrench their liberty from the iron hand of the
tyrant. The hardships and dangers involved in the struggle
give strength and toughness to the character, and enable it to
stand firm in storm as well as in sunshine.
One thought more before I leave this subject, and it is a
thought I wish
and teach it to
you all to lay to heart. Practice it yourselves
your children. It is this, neither we, nor any
other people, will ever be respected till we respect ourselves,
and we will never respect ourselves till we have the means to
live respectably. An exceptionally poor and dependent people
will be despised by the opulent and despise themselves.
You cannot
make an empty sack stand on end. A race
which cannot save its earnings, which spends all it makes and
goes in debt w
civilization, no
hen it is sick, can never rise in the scale of
matter under what laws it may chance to be.
Put us in Kansas or in Africa, and until we learn to save
more than we spend, we are sure to sink and perish. It is
not in the nature of things that we should be equally rich in
this world’s goods. Some will be more successful than others,
and poverty, in many cases, is the result of misfortune rather-
than of crime;
the victims of
Worthless race.
but no race can afford to have all its members
this misfortune, without being considered a
Pardon me, therefore, for urging upon you,

516 - AND SOME GOOD ADVICE.
my people, the importance of saving your earnings; of deny-
ing yourselves in the present, that you may have something
in the future, of consuming less for yourselves that your
children may have a start in life when you are gone.
With money and property comes the means of knowledge
and power. A poverty-stricken class will be an ignorant and
despised class, and no amount of sentiment can make it
otherwise. This part of our destiny is in our own hands.
Every dollar you lay up, represents one day's independence,
one day of rest and security in the future. If the time shall
ever come when we shall possess in the colored people of the
United States, a class of men noted for enterprise, industry,
economy, and success, we shall no longer have any trouble in
the matter of civil and political rights. The battle against
popular prejudice will have been fought and won, and in com-
mon with all other races and colors, we shall have an equal
chance in the race of life.









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