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My mistress was, as I have said, a kind and tenderhearted woman; and in the simplicity of her soul shecommenced, when I first went to live with her, totreat me as she supposed one human being oughtto treat another. In entering upon the duties of aslaveholder, she did not seem to perceive that I sustained to her the relation of a mere chattel, andthat for her to treat me as a human being was notonly wrong, but dangerously so. Slavery proved asinjurious to her as it did to me. When I went there,she was a pious, warm, and tender-hearted woman.There was no sorrow or suffering for which she hadnot a tear. She had bread for the hungry, clothes forthe naked, and comfort for every mourner that camewithin her reach. Slavery soon proved its ability todivest her of these heavenly qualities. Under its influence, the tender heart became stone, and thelamblike disposition gave way to one of tiger-likefierceness. The first step in her downward course wasin her ceasing to instruct me. She now commencedto practise her husband's precepts. She finally became even more violent in her opposition than herhusband himself. She was not satisfied with simplydoing as well as he had commanded; she seemedanxious to do better. Nothing seemed to make hermore angry than to see me with a newspaper. Sheseemed to think that here lay the danger. I have hadher rush at me with a face made all up of fury, andsnatch from me a newspaper, in a manner that fullyrevealed her apprehension. She was an apt woman;and a little experience soon demonstrated, to hersatisfaction, that education and slavery were incompatible with each other.
From this time I was most narrowly watched. If Iwas in a separate room any considerable length oftime, I was sure to be suspected of having a book,and was at once called to give an account of myself.All this, however, was too late. The first step hadbeen taken. Mistress, in teaching me the alphabet,had given me the ~inch,~ and no precaution could prevent me from taking the ~ell.~
The plan which I adopted, and the one by whichI was most successful, was that of making friends ofall the little white boys whom I met in the street.As many of these as I could, I converted into teachers. With their kindly aid, obtained at different timesand in different places, I finally succeeded in learning to read. When I was sent of errands, I alwaystook my book with me, and by going one part ofmy errand quickly, I found time to get a lesson before my return. I used also to carry bread with me,enough of which was always in the house, and towhich I was always welcome; for I was much betteroff in this regard than many of the poor white children in our neighborhood. This bread I used to bestow upon the hungry little urchins, who, in return,would give me that more valuable bread of knowledge. I am strongly tempted to give the names oftwo or three of those little boys, as a testimonial ofthe gratitude and affection I bear them; but prudence forbids;--not that it would injure me, but itmight embarrass them; for it is almost an unpardonable offence to teach slaves to read in this Christian country. It is enough to say of the dear littlefellows, that they lived on Philpot Street, very nearDurgin and Bailey's ship-yard. I used to talk thismatter of slavery over with them. I would sometimessay to them, I wished I could be as free as theywould be when they got to be men. "You will befree as soon as you are twenty-one, ~but I am a slavefor life!~ Have not I as good a right to be free asyou have?" These words used to trouble them; theywould express for me the liveliest sympathy, and console me with the hope that something would occurby which I might be free.
I was now about twelve years old, and the thoughtof being ~a slave for life~ began to bear heavily uponmy heart. Just about this time, I got hold of a bookentitled "The Columbian Orator." Every opportunity I got, I used to read this book. Among much ofother interesting matter, I found in it a dialogue between a master and his slave. The slave was represented as having run away from his master threetimes. The dialogue represented the conversationwhich took place between them, when the slave wasretaken the third time. In this dialogue, the wholeargument in behalf of slavery was brought forwardby the master, all of which was disposed of by theslave. The slave was made to say some very smart aswell as impressive things in reply to his master-things which had the desired though unexpected effect; for the conversation resulted in the voluntaryemancipation of the slave on the part of the master.
In the same book, I met with one of Sheridan'smighty speeches on and in behalf of Catholic emancipation. These were choice documents to me. I readthem over and over again with unabated interest.They gave tongue to interesting thoughts of my ownsoul, which had frequently flashed through my mind,and died away for want of utterance. The moralwhich I gained from the dialogue was the power oftruth over the conscience of even a slaveholder. WhatI got from Sheridan was a bold denunciation of slavery, and a powerful vindication of human rights.The reading of these documents enabled me toutter my thoughts, and to meet the argumentsbrought forward to sustain slavery; but while theyrelieved me of one difficulty, they brought on another even more painful than the one of which I wasrelieved. The more I read, the more I was led toabhor and detest my enslavers. I could regard themin no other light than a band of successful robbers,who had left their homes, and gone to Africa, andstolen us from our homes, and in a strange landreduced us to slavery. I loathed them as being themeanest as well as the most wicked of men. As Iread and contemplated the subject, behold! that verydiscontentment which Master Hugh had predictedwould follow my learning to read had already come,to torment and sting my soul to unutterable anguish.As I writhed under it, I would at times feel thatlearning to read had been a curse rather than a blessing. It had given me a view of my wretched condition, without the remedy. It opened my eyes to thehorrible pit, but to no ladder upon which to get out.In moments of agony, I envied my fellow-slaves fortheir stupidity. I have often wished myself a beast.I preferred the condition of the meanest reptile tomy own. Any thing, no matter what, to get rid ofthinking! It was this everlasting thinking of my condition that tormented me. There was no getting ridof it. It was pressed upon me by every object withinsight or hearing, animate or inanimate. The silvertrump of freedom had roused my soul to eternalwakefulness. Freedom now appeared, to disappearno more forever. It was heard in every sound, andseen in every thing. It was ever present to tormentme with a sense of my wretched condition. I sawnothing without seeing it, I heard nothing withouthearing it, and felt nothing without feeling it. Itlooked from every star, it smiled in every calm,breathed in every wind, and moved in every storm.
I often found myself regretting my own existence,and wishing myself dead; and but for the hope ofbeing free, I have no doubt but that I should havekilled myself, or done something for which I shouldhave been killed. While in this state of mind, I waseager to hear any one speak of slavery. I was a readylistener. Every little while, I could hear somethingabout the abolitionists. It was some time before Ifound what the word meant. It was always used insuch connections as to make it an interesting wordto me. If a slave ran away and succeeded in gettingclear, or if a slave killed his master, set fire to abarn, or did any thing very wrong in the mind of aslaveholder, it was spoken of as the fruit of ~abolition.~Hearing the word in this connection very often, I setabout learning what it meant. The dictionary afforded me little or no help. I found it was "the actof abolishing;" but then I did not know what wasto be abolished. Here I was perplexed. I did notdare to ask any one about its meaning, for I wassatisfied that it was something they wanted me toknow very little about. After a patient waiting, I gotone of our city papers, containing an account of thenumber of petitions from the north, praying for theabolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, andof the slave trade between the States. From thistime I understood the words ~abolition~ and ~abolitionist,~ and always drew near when that word was spoken,expecting to hear something of importance to myself and fellow-slaves. The light broke in upon meby degrees. I went one day down on the wharf ofMr. Waters; and seeing two Irishmen unloading ascow of stone, I went, unasked, and helped them.When we had finished, one of them came to meand asked me if I were a slave. I told him I was. Heasked, "Are ye a slave for life?" I told him that Iwas. The good Irishman seemed to be deeply affected by the statement. He said to the other thatit was a pity so fine a little fellow as myself shouldbe a slave for life. He said it was a shame to holdme. They both advised me to run away to the north;that I should find friends there, and that I shouldbe free. I pretended not to be interested in whatthey said, and treated them as if I did not understand them; for I feared they might be treacherous.White men have been known to encourage slaves toescape, and then, to get the reward, catch them andreturn them to their masters. I was afraid that theseseemingly good men might use me so; but I nevertheless remembered their advice, and from that timeI resolved to run away. I looked forward to a timeat which it would be safe for me to escape. I wastoo young to think of doing so immediately; besides,I wished to learn how to write, as I might have occasion to write my own pass. I consoled myself withthe hope that I should one day find a good chance.Meanwhile, I would learn to write.
The idea as to how I might learn to write wassuggested to me by being in Durgin and Bailey'sship-yard, and frequently seeing the ship carpenters,after hewing, and getting a piece of timber readyfor use, write on the timber the name of that partof the ship for which it was intended. When a pieceof timber was intended for the larboard side, itwould be marked thus--"L." When a piece was forthe starboard side, it would be marked thus--"S." Apiece for the larboard side forward, would be markedthus--"L. F." When a piece was for starboard sideforward, it would be marked thus--"S. F." For larboard aft, it would be marked thus--"L. A." For starboard aft, it would be marked thus--"S. A." I soonlearned the names of these letters, and for whatthey were intended when placed upon a piece oftimber in the ship-yard. I immediately commencedcopying them, and in a short time was able to makethe four letters named. After that, when I met withany boy who I knew could write, I would tell himI could write as well as he. The next word would be,"I don't believe you. Let me see you try it." I wouldthen make the letters which I had been so fortunateas to learn, and ask him to beat that. In this way Igot a good many lessons in writing, which it is quitepossible I should never have gotten in any other way.During this time, my copy-book was the board fence,brick wall, and pavement; my pen and ink was alump of chalk. With these, I learned mainly how towrite. I then commenced and continued copying theItalics in Webster's Spelling Book, until I could makethem all without looking on the book. By this time,my little Master Thomas had gone to school, andlearned how to write, and had written over a numberof copy-books. These had been brought home, andshown to some of our near neighbors, and then laidaside. My mistress used to go to class meeting atthe Wilk Street meetinghouse every Monday afternoon, and leave me to take care of the house. Whenleft thus, I used to spend the time in writing in thespaces left in Master Thomas's copy-book, copyingwhat he had written. I continued to do this until Icould write a hand very similar to that of MasterThomas. Thus, after a long, tedious effort for years,I finally succeeded in learning how to write.
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