My Bondage and My Freedom, My Bondage and My Freedom

F >> Frederick Douglass >> My Bondage and My Freedom, My Bondage and My Freedom

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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 _"divination."_ It was
beneath one of my intelligence to countenance 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 <185 THE MAGIC ROOT>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, rather than from any conviction
of its excellence, I was induced to take it. He had been to me
the good Samaritan, and had, almost providentially, found me, and
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 upon me. At any rate, I
started off toward Covey's, as directed by Sandy. Having, the
previous night, poured my griefs into Sandy's ears, and got him
enlisted 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 much dreaded
Covey's. Singularly enough, just as I entered his yard gate, I
met him and his wife, dressed in their Sunday best--looking as
smiling as angels--on their way to church. The manner of Covey
astonished me. There was something really benignant 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 drive them out;
inquired how I was, and seemed an altered man. This
extraordinary conduct of Covey, 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 magic
power of the root. I suspected, however, that the _Sabbath_, and
not the _root_, was the real explanation of Covey's manner. His
religion hindered him from breaking the <186>Sabbath, but not
from breaking my skin. 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 not
hesitate, on Sunday, to teach me the value of my soul, or the way
of life and salvation by Jesus Christ.

All went well with me till Monday morning; and then, whether the
root had lost its virtue, or whether my tormentor had gone deeper
into the black art than myself (as was sometimes said of him), or
whether he had obtained a special indulgence, for his faithful
Sabbath day's worship, it is not necessary for me to know, or to
inform the reader; but, this I _may_ say--the pious and benignant
smile which graced Covey's face on _Sunday_, wholly disappeared
on _Monday_. Long before daylight, I was called up to go and
feed, rub, and curry the horses. I obeyed the call, and would
have so obeyed it, had it been made at an earilier{sic} hour, for
I had brought my mind to a firm resolve, during that Sunday's
reflection, viz: 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's indifference had served the last link.
I had now to this extent "backslidden" from this point in the
slave's religious creed; and I soon had occasion to make my
fallen state known to my Sunday-pious brother, Covey.

Whilst I was obeying his order to feed and get the horses ready
for the field, and when 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 snake-like way, and seizing me
suddenly by the leg, he brought me to the stable floor, giving my
newly mended body a fearful jar. I now forgot my roots, and
remembered my pledge to _stand up in my own defense_. The brute
was endeavoring skillfully to get a slip-knot on my legs, before
I could <187 THE FIGHT>draw up my feet. As soon as I found what
he was up to, I gave a sudden spring (my two day's 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--"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 was actually hard at it. The fighting madness had come upon
me, and I found my strong fingers firmly attached to the throat
of my cowardly tormentor; as heedless of consequences, at the
moment, as though we stood as equals before the law. The very
color of the man was forgotten. I felt as supple as a cat, and
was ready for the snakish creature at every turn. Every blow of
his was parried, though I dealt no blows in turn. 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, for he trembled in every limb. _"Are you going to
resist_, you scoundrel?" 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
thus equal. Covey soon cried out 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 Hughs, to come
to his assistance, and now the scene was changed. I was
compelled to <188>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 Hughs; and, at the first approach of the
latter, I dealt a blow, in my desperation, which fairly sickened
my youthful assailant. He went off, bending over with pain, and
manifesting no disposition to come within my reach again. 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 poor 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 by him 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_ overclean 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
advantges{sic} of his own selection.

By this time, Bill, the hiredman, came home. He had been to Mr.
Hemsley's, to spend the Sunday with his nominal wife, and was
coming home on Monday morning, to go to work. Covey and I had
been skirmishing from before daybreak, till now, that the sun was
almost shooting his beams 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 <189
BILL REFUSES TO ASSIST COVEY>make off to the woods; otherwise, he
would probably have obtained arms from the house, to frighten me.
Holding me, Covey called upon Bill for assistance. The scene
here, had something comic about it. "Bill," who knew _precisely_
what Covey wished him to do, affected ignorance, and pretended he
did not know what to do. "What shall I do, Mr. Covey," said
Bill. "Take hold of him--take hold of him!" said Covey. With a
toss of his head, peculiar to Bill, he said, "indeed, Mr. 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 now
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
matters as best we might.

But, my present advantage was threatened when I saw Caroline (the
slave-woman of Covey) coming to the cow yard to milk, for she was
a powerful woman, and could have mastered me very easily,
exhausted as I now was. As soon as she came into the yard, Covey
attempted to rally her to his aid. Strangely--and, I may add,
fortunately--Caroline was in no humor to take a hand in any such
sport. We were all in open rebellion, that morning. Caroline
answered the command of her master to _"take hold of me,"_
precisely as Bill had answered, but in _her_, it was at greater
peril so to answer; 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.

Covey at length (two hours had elapsed) gave up the contest.
Letting me go, he said--puffing and blowing at a great rate--
"Now, you scoundrel, go to your work; I would not have whipped
you half so much as I have had you not resisted." The fact was,
<190>_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, even without this satisfaction, I should have been
victorious, because my aim had not been to injure him, but to
prevent his injuring me.

During the whole six months that I lived with Covey, after this
transaction, he never laid on me the weight of his finger 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 answered, "You need
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--undignified 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 FREEMAN. A
man, without force, is without the essential dignity of humanity.
Human nature is so constituted, that it cannot _honor_ a helpless
man, although it can _pity_ him; and even this it cannot do long,
if the signs of power do not arise.

He can only understand the effect of this combat on my spirit,
who has himself incurred something, hazarded something, in
repelling the unjust and cruel aggressions of a tyrant. Covey
was a tyrant, and a cowardly one, withal. After resisting him, I
felt as I had 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 manly independence. I had
reached the point, at which I was _not afraid to die_. This <191
RESULTS OF THE VICTORY>spirit made me a freeman in _fact_, while
I 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_."
While slaves prefer their lives, with flogging, to instant death,
they will always find Christians enough, like unto Covey, to
accommodate that preference. From this time, until that of my
escape from slavery, I was never fairly whipped. Several
attempts were made to whip me, but they were always unsuccessful.
Bruises I did get, as I shall hereafter inform the reader; but
the case I have been describing, was the end of the brutification
to which slavery had subjected me.

The reader will be glad 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 assigns
hanging to the slave who resists his master, was not put in force
against me; at any rate, why I was not taken up, as is usual in
such cases, and publicly whipped, for 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, for a
long time, a surprise to me, and I cannot, even now, fully
explain the cause.

The only explanation I can venture to suggest, is the fact, that
Covey was, probably, ashamed to have it known and confessed that
he had been mastered by a boy of sixteen. Mr. Covey enjoyed the
unbounded and very valuable reputation, of being a first rate
overseer and _Negro breaker_. By means of this reputation, he
was able to procure his hands for _very trifling_ compensation,
and with very great ease. His interest and his pride mutually
suggested the wisdom of passing the matter by, in silence. The
story that he had undertaken to whip a lad, and had been
resisted, was, of itself, sufficient to damage him; for his
bearing should, in the estimation of slaveholders, be of that
imperial order that should make such an occurrence _impossible_.
I judge from these circumstances, that Covey deemed it best to
<192>give me the go-by. It is, perhaps, not altogether
creditable to my natural temper, that, after this conflict with
Mr. Covey, I did, at times, purposely 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 had made up my
mind to do 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?

_
CHAPTER XVIII
_New Relations and Duties_

CHANGE OF MASTERS--BENEFITS DERIVED BY THE CHANGE--FAME OF THE
FIGHT WITH COVEY--RECKLESS UNCONCERN--MY ABHORRENCE OF SLAVERY--
ABILITY TO READ A CAUSE OF PREJUDICE--THE HOLIDAYS--HOW SPENT--
SHARP HIT AT SLAVERY--EFFECTS OF HOLIDAYS--A DEVICE OF SLAVERY--
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN COVEY AND FREELAND--AN IRRELIGIOUS MASTER
PREFERRED TO A RELIGIOUS ONE--CATALOGUE OF FLOGGABLE OFFENSES--
HARD LIFE AT COVEY'S USEFUL--IMPROVED CONDITION NOT FOLLOWED BY
CONTENTMENT--CONGENIAL SOCIETY AT FREELAND'S--SABBATH SCHOOL
INSTITUTED--SECRECY NECESSARY--AFFECTIONATE RELATIONS OF TUTOR
AND PUPILS--CONFIDENCE AND FRIENDSHIP AMONG SLAVES--I DECLINE
PUBLISHING PARTICULARS OF CONVERSATIONS WITH MY FRIENDS--SLAVERY
THE INVITER OF VENGEANCE.

My term of actual service to Mr. Edward Covey ended on Christmas
day, 1834. I gladly left the snakish Covey, although he was now
as gentle as a lamb. My home for the year 1835 was already
secured--my next master was already selected. There is always
more or less excitement about the matter of changing hands, but I
had become somewhat reckless. I cared very little into whose
hands I fell--I meant to fight my way. Despite of Covey, too,
the report got abroad, that I was hard to whip; that I was guilty
of kicking back; that though generally a good tempered Negro, I
sometimes "_got the devil in me_." These sayings were rife in
Talbot county, and they distinguished me among my servile
brethren. Slaves, generally, will fight each other, and die at
each other's hands; but there are few who are not held in awe by
a white man. Trained from the cradle up, to think and <194>feel
that their masters are superior, and invested with a sort of
sacredness, there are few who can outgrow or rise above the
control which that sentiment exercises. I had now got free from
it, and the thing was known. One bad sheep will spoil a whole
flock. Among the slaves, I was a bad sheep. I hated slavery,
slaveholders, and all pertaining to them; and I did not fail to
inspire others with the same feeling, wherever and whenever
opportunity was presented. This made me a marked lad among the
slaves, and a suspected one among the 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, are 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. This time was regarded 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 distance, were now
expected to visit them, and to spend with them the entire week.
The younger slaves, or the unmarried ones, were expected to see
to the cattle, and attend to incidental duties at home. The
holidays were variously spent. The sober, thinking and
industrious ones of our number, would employ themselves in
manufacturing 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
whisky; and this latter mode of spending the time was generally
most agreeable to their masters. A slave who would work during
the holidays, was thought, by his master, undeserving of
holidays. Such an one had rejected the favor of his master.
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 holi<195
EFFECTS OF HOLIDAYS>days, was disgraceful; and he was esteemed a
lazy and improvident man, who could not afford to drink whisky
during Christmas.

The fiddling, dancing and _"jubilee beating_," was going on in
all directions. This latter performance is strictly southern.
It supplies the place of a violin, or of other musical
instruments, and is played so easily, that almost every farm has
its "Juba" beater. The performer improvises as he beats, and
sings his merry songs, so ordering the words as to have them fall
pat with the movement of his hands. Among a mass of nonsense and
wild frolic, once in a while a sharp hit is given to the meanness
of slaveholders. Take the following, for an example:

_We raise de wheat,
Dey gib us de corn;
We bake de bread,
Dey gib us de cruss;
We sif de meal,
Dey gib us de huss;
We peal de meat,
Dey gib us de skin,
And dat's de way
Dey takes us in.
We skim de pot,
Dey gib us the liquor,
And say dat's good enough for nigger.
Walk over! walk over!
Tom butter and de fat;
Poor nigger you can't 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 holiday's.

Judging from my own observation and experience, I believe these
holidays to be 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
<196>have 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 serve the purpose of keeping the minds of the slaves
occupied with prospective pleasure, within the limits of slavery.
The young man can go wooing; the married man can visit his wife;
the father and mother can see their children; the industrious and
money loving can make a few dollars; the great wrestler can win
laurels; the young people can meet, and enjoy each other's
society; the drunken man can get plenty of whisky; and the
religious man can hold prayer meetings, preach, pray and exhort
during the holidays. Before the holidays, these are pleasures in
prospect; after the holidays, they become pleasures of memory,
and they serve to keep out thoughts and wishes of a more
dangerous character. Were slaveholders at once to abandon the
practice of allowing their slaves these liberties, periodically,
and to keep them, the year round, closely confined to the narrow
circle of their homes, I doubt not that the south would blaze
with insurrections. These holidays are 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 become too severe for
endurance, and the slave would be forced up to dangerous
desperation. Woe to the slaveholder when he undertakes to hinder
or to prevent the operation of these electric conductors. A
succession of earthquakes would be less destructive, than the
insurrectionary fires which would be sure to burst forth in
different parts of the south, from such interference.

Thus, the holidays, became part and parcel of the gross fraud,
wrongs and inhumanity of slavery. Ostensibly, they are
institutions of benevolence, designed to mitigate the rigors of
slave life, but, practically, they are a fraud, instituted by
human selfishness, the better to secure the ends of injustice and
oppression. The slave's happiness is not the end sought, but,
rather, the master's <197 A DEVICE OF SLAVERY>safety. It is not
from a generous unconcern for the slave's labor that this
cessation from labor is allowed, but from a prudent regard to the
safety of the slave system. I am strengthened in this opinion,
by the fact, that most slaveholders like to have their slaves
spend the holidays in such a manner as to be of no real benefit
to the slaves. It is plain, that everything like rational
enjoyment among the slaves, is frowned upon; and only those wild
and low sports, peculiar to semi-civilized people, are
encouraged. All the license allowed, appears to have no other
object than to disgust the slaves with their temporary freedom,
and to make them as glad to return to their work, as they were to
leave it. By plunging them into exhausting depths of drunkenness
and dissipation, this effect is almost certain to follow. I have
known slaveholders resort to cunning tricks, with a view of
getting their slaves deplorably drunk. A usual plan is, to make
bets on a slave, that he can drink more whisky than any other;
and so to 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 asks for a few hours of
virtuous freedom, his cunning master takes advantage of his
ignorance, and cheers 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 fields of work;
feeling, upon the whole, rather glad to go from that which our
masters 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 might 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 _rum_ and _whisky._

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