<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER IX </h2>
<p>I have now reached a period of my life when I can give dates. I left
Baltimore, and went to live with Master Thomas Auld, at St. Michael's, in
March, 1832. It was now more than seven years since I lived with him in
the family of my old master, on Colonel Lloyd's plantation. We of course
were now almost entire strangers to each other. He was to me a new master,
and I to him a new slave. I was ignorant of his temper and disposition; he
was equally so of mine. A very short time, however, brought us into full
acquaintance with each other. I was made acquainted with his wife not less
than with himself. They were well matched, being equally mean and cruel. I
was now, for the first time during a space of more than seven years, made
to feel the painful gnawings of hunger—a something which I had not
experienced before since I left Colonel Lloyd's plantation. It went hard
enough with me then, when I could look back to no period at which I had
enjoyed a sufficiency. It was tenfold harder after living in Master Hugh's
family, where I had always had enough to eat, and of that which was good.
I have said Master Thomas was a mean man. He was so. Not to give a slave
enough to eat, is regarded as the most aggravated development of meanness
even among slaveholders. The rule is, no matter how coarse the food, only
let there be enough of it. This is the theory; and in the part of Maryland
from which I came, it is the general practice,—though there are many
exceptions. Master Thomas gave us enough of neither coarse nor fine food.
There were four slaves of us in the kitchen—my sister Eliza, my aunt
Priscilla, Henny, and myself; and we were allowed less than a half of a
bushel of corn-meal per week, and very little else, either in the shape of
meat or vegetables. It was not enough for us to subsist upon. We were
therefore reduced to the wretched necessity of living at the expense of
our neighbors. This we did by begging and stealing, whichever came handy
in the time of need, the one being considered as legitimate as the other.
A great many times have we poor creatures been nearly perishing with
hunger, when food in abundance lay mouldering in the safe and smoke-house,
and our pious mistress was aware of the fact; and yet that mistress and
her husband would kneel every morning, and pray that God would bless them
in basket and store!</p>
<p>Bad as all slaveholders are, we seldom meet one destitute of every element
of character commanding respect. My master was one of this rare sort. I do
not know of one single noble act ever performed by him. The leading trait
in his character was meanness; and if there were any other element in his
nature, it was made subject to this. He was mean; and, like most other
mean men, he lacked the ability to conceal his meanness. Captain Auld was
not born a slaveholder. He had been a poor man, master only of a Bay
craft. He came into possession of all his slaves by marriage; and of all
men, adopted slaveholders are the worst. He was cruel, but cowardly. He
commanded without firmness. In the enforcement of his rules, he was at
times rigid, and at times lax. At times, he spoke to his slaves with the
firmness of Napoleon and the fury of a demon; at other times, he might
well be mistaken for an inquirer who had lost his way. He did nothing of
himself. He might have passed for a lion, but for his ears. In all things
noble which he attempted, his own meanness shone most conspicuous. His
airs, words, and actions, were the airs, words, and actions of born
slaveholders, and, being assumed, were awkward enough. He was not even a
good imitator. He possessed all the disposition to deceive, but wanted the
power. Having no resources within himself, he was compelled to be the
copyist of many, and being such, he was forever the victim of
inconsistency; and of consequence he was an object of contempt, and was
held as such even by his slaves. The luxury of having slaves of his own to
wait upon him was something new and unprepared for. He was a slaveholder
without the ability to hold slaves. He found himself incapable of managing
his slaves either by force, fear, or fraud. We seldom called him "master;"
we generally called him "Captain Auld," and were hardly disposed to title
him at all. I doubt not that our conduct had much to do with making him
appear awkward, and of consequence fretful. Our want of reverence for him
must have perplexed him greatly. He wished to have us call him master, but
lacked the firmness necessary to command us to do so. His wife used to
insist upon our calling him so, but to no purpose. In August, 1832, my
master attended a Methodist camp-meeting held in the Bay-side, Talbot
county, and there experienced religion. I indulged a faint hope that his
conversion would lead him to emancipate his slaves, and that, if he did
not do this, it would, at any rate, make him more kind and humane. I was
disappointed in both these respects. It neither made him to be humane to
his slaves, nor to emancipate them. If it had any effect on his character,
it made him more cruel and hateful in all his ways; for I believe him to
have been a much worse man after his conversion than before. Prior to his
conversion, he relied upon his own depravity to shield and sustain him in
his savage barbarity; but after his conversion, he found religious
sanction and support for his slaveholding cruelty. He made the greatest
pretensions to piety. His house was the house of prayer. He prayed
morning, noon, and night. He very soon distinguished himself among his
brethren, and was soon made a class-leader and exhorter. His activity in
revivals was great, and he proved himself an instrument in the hands of
the church in converting many souls. His house was the preachers' home.
They used to take great pleasure in coming there to put up; for while he
starved us, he stuffed them. We have had three or four preachers there at
a time. The names of those who used to come most frequently while I lived
there, were Mr. Storks, Mr. Ewery, Mr. Humphry, and Mr. Hickey. I have
also seen Mr. George Cookman at our house. We slaves loved Mr. Cookman. We
believed him to be a good man. We thought him instrumental in getting Mr.
Samuel Harrison, a very rich slaveholder, to emancipate his slaves; and by
some means got the impression that he was laboring to effect the
emancipation of all the slaves. When he was at our house, we were sure to
be called in to prayers. When the others were there, we were sometimes
called in and sometimes not. Mr. Cookman took more notice of us than
either of the other ministers. He could not come among us without
betraying his sympathy for us, and, stupid as we were, we had the sagacity
to see it.</p>
<p>While I lived with my master in St. Michael's, there was a white young
man, a Mr. Wilson, who proposed to keep a Sabbath school for the
instruction of such slaves as might be disposed to learn to read the New
Testament. We met but three times, when Mr. West and Mr. Fairbanks, both
class-leaders, with many others, came upon us with sticks and other
missiles, drove us off, and forbade us to meet again. Thus ended our
little Sabbath school in the pious town of St. Michael's.</p>
<p>I have said my master found religious sanction for his cruelty. As an
example, I will state one of many facts going to prove the charge. I have
seen him tie up a lame young woman, and whip her with a heavy cowskin upon
her naked shoulders, causing the warm red blood to drip; and, in
justification of the bloody deed, he would quote this passage of Scripture—"He
that knoweth his master's will, and doeth it not, shall be beaten with
many stripes."</p>
<p>Master would keep this lacerated young woman tied up in this horrid
situation four or five hours at a time. I have known him to tie her up
early in the morning, and whip her before breakfast; leave her, go to his
store, return at dinner, and whip her again, cutting her in the places
already made raw with his cruel lash. The secret of master's cruelty
toward "Henny" is found in the fact of her being almost helpless. When
quite a child, she fell into the fire, and burned herself horribly. Her
hands were so burnt that she never got the use of them. She could do very
little but bear heavy burdens. She was to master a bill of expense; and as
he was a mean man, she was a constant offence to him. He seemed desirous
of getting the poor girl out of existence. He gave her away once to his
sister; but, being a poor gift, she was not disposed to keep her. Finally,
my benevolent master, to use his own words, "set her adrift to take care
of herself." Here was a recently-converted man, holding on upon the
mother, and at the same time turning out her helpless child, to starve and
die! Master Thomas was one of the many pious slaveholders who hold slaves
for the very charitable purpose of taking care of them.</p>
<p>My master and myself had quite a number of differences. He found me
unsuitable to his purpose. My city life, he said, had had a very
pernicious effect upon me. It had almost ruined me for every good purpose,
and fitted me for every thing which was bad. One of my greatest faults was
that of letting his horse run away, and go down to his father-inlaw's
farm, which was about five miles from St. Michael's. I would then have to
go after it. My reason for this kind of carelessness, or carefulness, was,
that I could always get something to eat when I went there. Master William
Hamilton, my master's father-in-law, always gave his slaves enough to eat.
I never left there hungry, no matter how great the need of my speedy
return. Master Thomas at length said he would stand it no longer. I had
lived with him nine months, during which time he had given me a number of
severe whippings, all to no good purpose. He resolved to put me out, as he
said, to be broken; and, for this purpose, he let me for one year to a man
named Edward Covey. Mr. Covey was a poor man, a farm-renter. He rented the
place upon which he lived, as also the hands with which he tilled it. Mr.
Covey had acquired a very high reputation for breaking young slaves, and
this reputation was of immense value to him. It enabled him to get his
farm tilled with much less expense to himself than he could have had it
done without such a reputation. Some slaveholders thought it not much loss
to allow Mr. Covey to have their slaves one year, for the sake of the
training to which they were subjected, without any other compensation. He
could hire young help with great ease, in consequence of this reputation.
Added to the natural good qualities of Mr. Covey, he was a professor of
religion—a pious soul—a member and a class-leader in the
Methodist church. All of this added weight to his reputation as a
"nigger-breaker." I was aware of all the facts, having been made
acquainted with them by a young man who had lived there. I nevertheless
made the change gladly; for I was sure of getting enough to eat, which is
not the smallest consideration to a hungry man.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.