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!
I have now reached a point in my life when I can give dates. In March 1832, I left Baltimore to live with Master Thomas Auld in St. Michael’s. More than seven years had passed since I lived with him in my old master’s household on Colonel Lloyd’s plantation. We were now almost complete strangers to each other. He was a new master to me, and I was a new slave to him. I knew nothing of his temper or character, and he knew just as little of mine. But we soon came to know each other fully. I came to know his wife just as well. They were well matched, equally stingy and cruel. For the first time in more than seven years, I felt the painful pangs of hunger. I had not experienced them since leaving Colonel Lloyd’s plantation. Hunger had been hard enough then, when I could remember no time when I had enough to eat. It was ten times harder after living with Master Hugh’s family. There, I had always had enough to eat, and the food was good. I have said Master Thomas was a stingy man. He was. Even slaveholders consider denying a slave enough food the most extreme form of stinginess. The rule is that however poor the food, there must be enough of it. That is the theory. In the part of Maryland I came from, it is also the general practice, though there are many exceptions. Master Thomas gave us enough of neither poor nor good food. Four of us enslaved people lived in the kitchen: my sister Eliza, my aunt Priscilla, Henny, and me. We were allowed less than half a bushel of cornmeal a week, and very little meat or vegetables. It was not enough to live on. We were therefore driven to the miserable necessity of living at our neighbors’ expense. We begged or stole, whichever was easiest when we needed food. We considered one just as legitimate as the other. Many times, we poor creatures nearly starved while abundant food lay rotting in the food cupboard and smokehouse. Our devout mistress knew this. Yet she and her husband knelt every morning and prayed that God would bless their baskets and food stores!
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.
As bad as all slaveholders are, we seldom meet one without a single quality deserving respect. My master was one of these rare cases. I do not know of a single noble act he ever performed. His main quality was meanness. If he had any other qualities, they were ruled by it. He was mean, and like most mean men, he could not hide it. Captain Auld was not born a slaveholder. He had been a poor man, captain of only a small boat on the Chesapeake Bay. He acquired all the people he enslaved through marriage. Of all men, those who become slaveholders later in life are the worst. He was cruel but cowardly. He gave orders without firmness. Sometimes he enforced his rules strictly, and sometimes he was lax. Sometimes he spoke to the people he enslaved with Napoleon’s firmness and a demon’s fury. At other times, he could have been mistaken for a lost traveler asking directions. He did nothing on his own initiative. He might have passed for a lion if his donkey’s ears had not given him away. Whenever he attempted anything noble, his own meanness stood out most clearly. He copied the manners, words, and actions of men born into slaveholding. Because these were borrowed, they were awkward enough. He was not even a good imitator. He had every desire to deceive but lacked the ability. Having no resources within himself, he was forced to copy many people. As a result, he was always inconsistent. This made him an object of contempt, even among the people he enslaved. The luxury of having enslaved people of his own to serve him was new, and he was unprepared for it. He was a slaveholder without the ability to control those he enslaved. He could not manage us through force, fear, or deception. We seldom called him “master.” We generally called him “Captain Auld,” and hardly felt inclined to give him any title at all. I have no doubt that our behavior helped make him seem awkward and, as a result, irritable. Our lack of respect must have puzzled him greatly. He wanted us to call him master but lacked the firmness to order us to do so. His wife insisted that we call him that, but it did no good. In August 1832, my master attended a Methodist camp meeting in the Bayside area of Talbot County. There he underwent a religious conversion. I held a faint hope that his conversion would lead him to free the people he enslaved. If not, I hoped it would at least make him kinder and more humane. I was disappointed in both hopes. He neither treated the people he enslaved humanely nor freed them. If his conversion changed his character at all, it made him more cruel and hateful in every way. I believe he was a much worse man after his conversion than before. Before his conversion, he relied on his own depravity to shield and sustain him in his savage cruelty. Afterward, he found religious approval and support for his cruelty as a slaveholder. He made the greatest claims to religious devotion. His house was a house of prayer. He prayed morning, noon, and night. He quickly gained distinction among his fellow church members. Soon he was appointed to lead a Methodist religious group and urge others toward faith. He was very active in revivals and helped the church convert many souls. His house was a home for preachers. They greatly enjoyed staying there, for while he starved us, he stuffed them with food. We sometimes had three or four preachers there at once. Those who visited most often while I lived there were Mr. Storks, Mr. Ewery, Mr. Humphry, and Mr. Hickey. I also saw Mr. George Cookman at our house. We enslaved people loved Mr. Cookman. We believed he was a good man. We thought he had helped persuade Mr. Samuel Harrison, a very rich slaveholder, to free the people he enslaved. Somehow, we also gained the impression that he was working to free all enslaved people. When he visited our house, we were always called in for prayers. When the others visited, sometimes we were called in and sometimes we were not. Mr. Cookman paid more attention to us than any of the other ministers. He could not come among us without revealing his sympathy for us. And ignorant as we were, we had enough insight to recognize it.
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.
While I lived with my master in St. Michael’s, a young white man named Mr. Wilson proposed starting a Sunday school. He offered to teach enslaved people who wanted to learn to read the New Testament. We had met only three times when Mr. West and Mr. Fairbanks arrived with many others. Both men were church class leaders. They came at us with sticks and other objects to throw, drove us away, and forbade us to meet again. That was the end of our little Sunday school in the pious town of St. Michael’s.
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.”
I have said that my master used religion to justify his cruelty. I will give one of many examples that prove this charge. I have seen him tie up a young woman who had difficulty walking. He whipped her bare shoulders with a heavy cowhide whip, making warm red blood drip from them. To justify this bloody act, he would quote this passage from Scripture. “He who knows his master’s will and does not do it shall be beaten with many lashes.”
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.
Master would keep this wounded young woman tied up in this horrible position for four or five hours at a time. I have known him to tie her up early in the morning and whip her before breakfast. He would leave her, go to his store, return at midday, and whip her again. His cruel whip would cut into the places he had already torn raw. The reason for master’s cruelty toward “Henny” was that she was almost helpless. As a small child, she had fallen into the fire and been horribly burned. Her hands were so badly burned that she never regained their use. She could do little besides carry heavy loads. To master, she was an expense. Because he was a miserly man, her presence constantly offended him. He seemed to want the poor girl dead. He once gave her away to his sister. But his sister did not want to keep such an unwanted gift. Finally, my kindhearted master, in his own words, “set her adrift to take care of herself.” Here was a man newly converted to Christianity, keeping the mother enslaved while casting out her helpless child to starve and die! Master Thomas was one of the many devout slaveholders who enslave people for the very charitable purpose of caring for them.
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-in-law’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.
My master and I had quite a few disagreements. He found me unsuited to his purposes. My life in the city, he said, had had a very harmful effect on me. It had almost ruined me for every good purpose and prepared me for everything bad. One of my greatest faults was letting his horse run away to his father-in-law’s farm. It was about five miles from St. Michael’s. I would then have to go after it. My reason for this carelessness, or carefulness, was that I could always get something to eat there. Master William Hamilton, my master’s father-in-law, always gave the people he enslaved enough to eat. I never left there hungry, no matter how urgently I needed to return. Master Thomas finally said he would no longer put up with it. I had lived with him nine months. During that time, he had given me several severe whippings, all without the results he wanted. He decided to send me away, as he said, to be broken. For this purpose, he hired me out for one year to a man named Edward Covey. Mr. Covey was a poor tenant farmer. He rented the farm where he lived and hired the enslaved workers who cultivated it. Mr. Covey had gained a very strong reputation for breaking young enslaved people, and this reputation was immensely valuable to him. It allowed him to have his farm cultivated at far less expense than he otherwise could. Some slaveholders thought it no great loss to let Mr. Covey have their enslaved people for a year without payment. They considered the training those people received enough compensation. Because of this reputation, he could hire young workers very easily. Besides Mr. Covey’s natural good qualities, he claimed to be religious, a pious soul. He was a member and a class leader in the Methodist church. All this strengthened his reputation as a “nigger-breaker.” I knew all these facts because a young man who had lived there had told me about them. Still, I gladly made the change. I was sure I would get enough to eat, which is no small consideration to a hungry man.