CHANGE OF LOCATION.
Miss Lucretia--Her kindness--How it was manifested--“Ike”--A
battle with him--Miss Lucretia’s balsam--Bread--How it was
obtained--Gleams of sunlight amidst the general darkness--Suffering
from cold--How we took our meal mush--Preparations for going
to Baltimore--Delight at the change--Cousin Tom’s opinion of
Baltimore--Arrival there--Kind reception--Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Auld--
Their son Tommy--My relations to them--My duties--A turning-point
in my life.
I have nothing cruel or shocking to relate of my own personal
experience while I remained on Col. Lloyd’s plantation, at the home
of my old master. An occasional cuff from Aunt Katy, and a regular
whipping from old master, such as any heedless and mischievous boy
might get from his father, is all that I have to say of this sort. I
was not old enough to work in the field, and there being little else
than field-work to perform, I had much leisure. The most I had to do
was to drive up the cows in the evening, to keep the front-yard clean,
and to perform small errands for my young mistress, Lucretia Auld. I
had reasons for thinking this lady was very kindly disposed toward me,
and although I was not often the object of her attention, I constantly
regarded her as my friend, and was always glad when it was my privilege
to do her a service. In a family where there was so much that was harsh
and indifferent, the slightest word or look of kindness was of great
value. Miss Lucretia--as we all continued to call her long after her
marriage--had bestowed on me such looks and words as taught me that
she pitied me, if she did not love me. She sometimes gave me a piece
of bread and butter, an article not set down in our bill of fare, but
an extra ration aside from both Aunt Katy and old master, and given
as I believed solely out of the tender regard she had for me. Then
too, I one day got into the wars with Uncle Abel’s son “Ike,” and
had got sadly worsted; the little rascal struck me directly in the
forehead with a sharp piece of cinder, fused with iron, from the old
blacksmith’s forge, which made a cross in my forehead very plainly to
be seen even now. The gash bled very freely, and I roared and betook
myself home. The cold-hearted Aunt Katy paid no attention either to
my wound or my roaring except to tell me it “served me right; I had
no business with Ike; it would do me good; I would now keep away from
‘dem Lloyd niggers.’” Miss Lucretia in this state of the case came
forward, and called me into the parlor (an extra privilege of itself),
and without using toward me any of the hard and reproachful epithets
of Aunt Katy, quietly acted the good Samaritan. With her own soft hand
she washed the blood from my head and face, brought her own bottle of
balsam, and with the balsam wetted a nice piece of white linen and
bound up my head. The balsam was not more healing to the wound in my
head, than her kindness was healing to the wounds in my spirit, induced
by the unfeeling words of Aunt Katy. After this Miss Lucretia was yet
more my friend. I felt her to be such; and I have no doubt that the
simple act of binding up my head did much to awaken in her heart an
interest in my welfare. It is quite true that this interest seldom
showed itself in anything more than in giving me a piece of bread and
butter, but this was a great favor on a slave plantation, and I was the
only one of the children to whom such attention was paid. When very
severely pinched with hunger, I had the habit of singing, which the
good lady very soon came to understand, and when she heard me singing
under her window, I was very apt to be paid for my music. Thus I had
two friends, both at important points,--Mas’r Daniel at the great
house, and Miss Lucretia at home. From Mas’r Daniel I got protection
from the bigger boys, and from Miss Lucretia I got bread by singing
when I was hungry, and sympathy when I was abused by the termagant in
the kitchen. For such friendship I was deeply grateful, and bitter as
are my recollections of slavery, it is a true pleasure to recall any
instances of kindness, any sunbeams of humane treatment, which found
way to my soul, through the iron grating of my house of bondage. Such
beams seem all the brighter from the general darkness into which they
penetrate, and the impression they make there is vividly distinct.
As before intimated, I received no severe treatment from the hands
of my master, but the insufficiency of both food and clothing was a
serious trial to me, especially from the lack of clothing. In hottest
summer and coldest winter, I was kept almost in a state of nudity. My
only clothing--a little coarse sack-cloth or tow-linen sort of shirt,
scarcely reaching to my knees, was worn night and day and changed
once a week. In the day time I could protect myself by keeping on the
sunny side of the house, or in stormy weather, in the corner of the
kitchen chimney. But the great difficulty was to keep warm during the
night. The pigs in the pen had leaves, and the horses in the stable
had straw, but the children had no beds. They lodged anywhere in the
ample kitchen. I slept generally in a little closet, without even a
blanket to cover me. In very cold weather I sometimes got down the bag
in which corn was carried to the mill, and crawled into that. Sleeping
there with my head in and my feet out, I was partly protected, though
never comfortable. My feet have been so cracked with the frost that
the pen with which I am writing might be laid in the gashes. Our corn
meal mush, which was our only regular if not all-sufficing diet, when
sufficiently cooled from the cooking, was placed in a large tray or
trough. This was set down either on the floor of the kitchen, or out of
doors on the ground, and the children were called like so many pigs,
and like so many pigs would come, some with oyster-shells, some with
pieces of shingles, but none with spoons, and literally devour the
mush. He who could eat fastest got most, and he that was strongest got
the best place, but few left the trough really satisfied. I was the
most unlucky of all, for Aunt Katy had no good feeling for me, and if
I pushed the children, or if they told her anything unfavorable of me,
she always believed the worst, and was sure to whip me.
As I grew older and more thoughtful, I became more and more filled with
a sense of my wretchedness. The unkindness of Aunt Katy, the hunger
and cold I suffered, and the terrible reports of wrongs and outrages
which came to my ear, together with what I almost daily witnessed, led
me to wish I had never been born. I used to contrast my condition with
that of the black-birds, in whose wild and sweet songs I fancied them
so happy. Their apparent joy only deepened the shades of my sorrow.
There are thoughtful days in the lives of children--at least there
were in mine--when they grapple with all the great primary subjects
of knowledge, and reach in a moment conclusions which no subsequent
experience can shake. I was just as well aware of the unjust,
unnatural, and murderous character of slavery, when nine years old, as
I am now. Without any appeal to books, to laws, or to authorities of
any kind, to regard God as “Our Father,” condemned slavery as a crime.
I was in this unhappy state when I received from Miss Lucretia the
joyful intelligence that my old master had determined to let me go to
Baltimore to live with Mr. Hugh Auld, a brother to Mr. Thomas Auld,
Miss Lucretia’s husband. I shall never forget the ecstacy with which
I received this information, three days before the time set for my
departure. They were the three happiest days I had ever known. I spent
the largest part of them in the creek, washing off the plantation
scurf, and thus preparing for my new home. Miss Lucretia took a lively
interest in getting me ready. She told me I must get all the dead skin
off my feet and knees, for the people in Baltimore were very cleanly,
and would laugh at me if I looked dirty; and besides she was intending
to give me a pair of trowsers, but which I could not put on unless I
got all the dirt off. This was a warning which I was bound to heed, for
the thought of owning and wearing a pair of trowsers was great indeed.
So I went at it in good earnest, working for the first time in my life
in the hope of reward. I was greatly excited, and could hardly consent
to sleep lest I should be left. The ties that ordinarily bind children
to their homes, had no existence in my case, and in thinking of a home
elsewhere, I was confident of finding none that I should relish less
than the one I was leaving. If I should meet with hardship, hunger,
and nakedness, I had known them all before, and I could endure them
elsewhere, especially in Baltimore, for I had something of the feeling
about that city that is expressed in the saying that “being hanged in
England is better than dying a natural death in Ireland.” I had the
strongest desire to see Baltimore. My cousin Tom, a boy two or three
years older than I, had been there, and, though not fluent in speech
(he stuttered immoderately), he had inspired me with that desire by
his eloquent descriptions of the place. Tom was sometimes cabin-boy on
board the sloop “Sally Lloyd” (which Capt. Thomas Auld commanded), and
when he came home from Baltimore he was always a sort of hero among
us, at least till his trip to Baltimore was forgotten. I could never
tell him anything, or point out anything that struck me as beautiful or
powerful, but that he had seen something in Baltimore far surpassing
it. Even the “great house,” with all its pictures within, and pillars
without, he had the hardihood to say, “was nothing to Baltimore.” He
bought a trumpet (worth sixpence) and brought it home; told what he had
seen in the windows of the stores; that he had heard shooting-crackers,
and seen soldiers; that he had seen a steamboat; that there were ships
in Baltimore that could carry four such sloops as the “Sally Lloyd.”
He said a great deal about the Market house; of the ringing of the
bells, and of many other things which roused my curiosity very much,
and indeed which brightened my hopes of happiness in my new home. We
sailed out of Miles River for Baltimore early on a Saturday morning. I
remember only the day of the week, for at that time I had no knowledge
of the days of the month, nor indeed of the months of the year. On
setting sail I walked aft and gave to Col. Lloyd’s plantation what
I hoped would be the last look I should give to it, or to any place
like it. After taking this last view, I quitted the quarter-deck, made
my way to the bow of the boat, and spent the remainder of the day in
looking ahead; interesting myself in what was in the distance, rather
than in what was near by, or behind. The vessels sweeping along the
bay were objects full of interest to me. The broad bay opened like
a shoreless ocean on my boyish vision, filling me with wonder and
admiration.
Late in the afternoon we reached Annapolis, stopping there not long
enough to admit of going ashore. It was the first large town I had
ever seen, and though it was inferior to many a factory village in New
England, my feelings on seeing it were excited to a pitch very little
below that reached by travelers at the first view of Rome. The dome of
the State house was especially imposing, and surpassed in grandeur the
appearance of the “great house” I had left behind. So the great world
was opening upon me, and I was eagerly acquainting myself with its
multifarious lessons.
We arrived in Baltimore on Sunday morning, and landed at Smith’s
wharf, not far from Bowly’s wharf. We had on board a large flock of
sheep, for the Baltimore market; and after assisting in driving them
to the slaughter house of Mr. Curtiss, on Loudon Slater’s hill, I was
conducted by Rich--one of the hands belonging to the sloop--to my
new home on Alliciana street, near Gardiner’s ship-yard, on Fell’s
point. Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Auld, my new master and mistress, were both
at home and met me at the door with their rosy-cheeked little son
Thomas, to take care of whom was to constitute my future occupation.
In fact it was to “little Tommy,” rather than to his parents, that old
master made a present of me, and, though there was no _legal_ form or
arrangement entered into, I have no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Auld felt
that in due time I should be the legal property of their bright-eyed
and beloved boy Tommy. I was struck with the appearance especially of
my new mistress. Her face was lighted with the kindliest emotions;
and the reflex influence of her countenance, as well as the tenderness
with which she seemed to regard me, while asking me sundry little
questions, greatly delighted me, and lit up, to my fancy, the pathway
of my future. Little Thomas was affectionately told by his mother,
that “there was his Freddy,” and that “Freddy would take care of him;”
and I was told to “be kind to little Tommy,” an injunction I scarcely
needed, for I had already fallen in love with the dear boy. With these
little ceremonies I was initiated into my new home, and entered upon my
peculiar duties, then unconscious of a cloud to dim its broad horizon.
I may say here that I regard my removal from Col. Lloyd’s plantation as
one of the most interesting and fortunate events of my life. Viewing
it in the light of human likelihoods, it is quite probable that but
for the mere circumstance of being thus removed, before the rigors
of slavery had fully fastened upon me; before my young spirit had
been crushed under the iron control of the slave-driver, I might have
continued in slavery until emancipated by the war.