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My mother was named Harriet Bailey. She wasthe daughter of Isaac and Betsey Bailey, both colored, and quite dark. My mother was of a darkercomplexion than either my grandmother or grandfather.
My father was a white man. He was admitted tobe such by all I ever heard speak of my parentage.The opinion was also whispered that my master wasmy father; but of the correctness of this opinion, Iknow nothing; the means of knowing was withheldfrom me. My mother and I were separated when Iwas but an infant--before I knew her as my mother.It is a common custom, in the part of Marylandfrom which I ran away, to part children from theirmothers at a very early age. Frequently, before thechild has reached its twelfth month, its mother istaken from it, and hired out on some farm a considerable distance off, and the child is placed underthe care of an old woman, too old for field labor.For what this separation is done, I do not know,unless it be to hinder the development of the child'saffection toward its mother, and to blunt and destroythe natural affection of the mother for the child.This is the inevitable result.
I never saw my mother, to know her as such, morethan four or five times in my life; and each of thesetimes was very short in duration, and at night. Shewas hired by a Mr. Stewart, who lived about twelvemiles from my home. She made her journeys to seeme in the night, travelling the whole distance onfoot, after the performance of her day's work. Shewas a field hand, and a whipping is the penalty ofnot being in the field at sunrise, unless a slave hasspecial permission from his or her master to the contrary--a permission which they seldom get, and onethat gives to him that gives it the proud name ofbeing a kind master. I do not recollect of ever seeingmy mother by the light of day. She was with me inthe night. She would lie down with me, and get meto sleep, but long before I waked she was gone. Verylittle communication ever took place between us.Death soon ended what little we could have whileshe lived, and with it her hardships and suffering.She died when I was about seven years old, on oneof my master's farms, near Lee's Mill. I was not allowed to be present during her illness, at her death,or burial. She was gone long before I knew any thingabout it. Never having enjoyed, to any considerableextent, her soothing presence, her tender and watchful care, I received the tidings of her death withmuch the same emotions I should have probablyfelt at the death of a stranger.
Called thus suddenly away, she left me withoutthe slightest intimation of who my father was. Thewhisper that my master was my father, may or maynot be true; and, true or false, it is of but little consequence to my purpose whilst the fact remains,in all its glaring odiousness, that slaveholders haveordained, and by law established, that the childrenof slave women shall in all cases follow the condition of their mothers; and this is done too obviouslyto administer to their own lusts, and make a gratification of their wicked desires profitable as well aspleasurable; for by this cunning arrangement, theslaveholder, in cases not a few, sustains to his slavesthe double relation of master and father.
I know of such cases; and it is worthy of remarkthat such slaves invariably suffer greater hardships,and have more to contend with, than others. Theyare, in the first place, a constant offence to theirmistress. She is ever disposed to find fault with them;they can seldom do any thing to please her; she isnever better pleased than when she sees them underthe lash, especially when she suspects her husbandof showing to his mulatto children favors which hewithholds from his black slaves. The master is frequently compelled to sell this class of his slaves, outof deference to the feelings of his white wife; and,cruel as the deed may strike any one to be, for aman to sell his own children to human flesh-mongers,it is often the dictate of humanity for him to do so;for, unless he does this, he must not only whip themhimself, but must stand by and see one white sontie up his brother, of but few shades darker complexion than himself, and ply the gory lash to hisnaked back; and if he lisp one word of disapproval,it is set down to his parental partiality, and onlymakes a bad matter worse, both for himself and theslave whom he would protect and defend.
Every year brings with it multitudes of this classof slaves. It was doubtless in consequence of a knowledge of this fact, that one great statesman of thesouth predicted the downfall of slavery by the inevitable laws of population. Whether this prophecyis ever fulfilled or not, it is nevertheless plain that avery different-looking class of people are springing upat the south, and are now held in slavery, from thoseoriginally brought to this country from Africa; andif their increase do no other good, it will doaway the force of the argument, that God cursedHam, and therefore American slavery is right. If thelineal descendants of Ham are alone to be scripturally enslaved, it is certain that slavery at the southmust soon become unscriptural; for thousands areushered into the world, annually, who, like myself,owe their existence to white fathers, and those fathers most frequently their own masters.
I have had two masters. My first master's namewas Anthony. I do not remember his first name.He was generally called Captain Anthony--a titlewhich, I presume, he acquired by sailing a craft onthe Chesapeake Bay. He was not considered a richslaveholder. He owned two or three farms, and aboutthirty slaves. His farms and slaves were under thecare of an overseer. The overseer's name wasPlummer. Mr. Plummer was a miserable drunkard,a profane swearer, and a savage monster. He alwayswent armed with a cowskin and a heavy cudgel. Ihave known him to cut and slash the women's headsso horribly, that even master would be enraged athis cruelty, and would threaten to whip him if hedid not mind himself. Master, however, was not ahumane slaveholder. It required extraordinary barbarity on the part of an overseer to affect him. Hewas a cruel man, hardened by a long life of slaveholding. He would at times seem to take great pleasure in whipping a slave. I have often been awakenedat the dawn of day by the most heart-rending shrieksof an own aunt of mine, whom he used to tie upto a joist, and whip upon her naked back till shewas literally covered with blood. No words, no tears,no prayers, from his gory victim, seemed to movehis iron heart from its bloody purpose. The loudershe screamed, the harder he whipped; and wherethe blood ran fastest, there he whipped longest. Hewould whip her to make her scream, and whip herto make her hush; and not until overcome by fatigue,would he cease to swing the blood-clotted cowskin.I remember the first time I ever witnessed this horrible exhibition. I was quite a child, but I well remember it. I never shall forget it whilst I rememberany thing. It was the first of a long series of such outrages, of which I was doomed to be a witness and aparticipant. It struck me with awful force. It wasthe blood-stained gate, the entrance to the hell ofslavery, through which I was about to pass. It wasa most terrible spectacle. I wish I could commit topaper the feelings with which I beheld it.
This occurrence took place very soon after I wentto live with my old master, and under the followingcircumstances. Aunt Hester went out one night,-where or for what I do not know,--and happened tobe absent when my master desired her presence. Hehad ordered her not to go out evenings, and warnedher that she must never let him catch her in company with a young man, who was paying attentionto her belonging to Colonel Lloyd. The young man'sname was Ned Roberts, generally called Lloyd'sNed. Why master was so careful of her, may besafely left to conjecture. She was a woman of nobleform, and of graceful proportions, having very fewequals, and fewer superiors, in personal appearance,among the colored or white women of our neighborhood.
Aunt Hester had not only disobeyed his orders ingoing out, but had been found in company withLloyd's Ned; which circumstance, I found, fromwhat he said while whipping her, was the chief offence. Had he been a man of pure morals himself,he might have been thought interested in protectingthe innocence of my aunt; but those who knew himwill not suspect him of any such virtue. Beforehe commenced whipping Aunt Hester, he took herinto the kitchen, and stripped her from neck to waist,leaving her neck, shoulders, and back, entirelynaked. He then told her to cross her hands, callingher at the same time a d----d b---h. After crossingher hands, he tied them with a strong rope, and ledher to a stool under a large hook in the joist, putin for the purpose. He made her get upon the stool,and tied her hands to the hook. She now stood fairfor his infernal purpose. Her arms were stretchedup at their full length, so that she stood upon theends of her toes. He then said to her, "Now, youd----d b---h, I'll learn you how to disobey myorders!" and after rolling up his sleeves, he commenced to lay on the heavy cowskin, and soon thewarm, red blood (amid heart-rending shrieks fromher, and horrid oaths from him) came dripping tothe floor. I was so terrified and horror-stricken at thesight, that I hid myself in a closet, and dared notventure out till long after the bloody transaction wasover. I expected it would be my turn next. It wasall new to me. I had never seen any thing like itbefore. I had always lived with my grandmother onthe outskirts of the plantation, where she was put toraise the children of the younger women. I had therefore been, until now, out of the way of the bloodyscenes that often occurred on the plantation.
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