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I was born in Tuckahoe, and about twelve miles from Easton, in Talbot County, Maryland. I have no accurate knowledge of my age, never having seen any authentic record containing it. By

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far the larger part of the slaves know as little of their ages as horses know of theirs, and it is the wish of most masters within my knowledge to keep their slaves thus ignorant. I do not remember to have ever met a slave who could tell of his birthday, they seldom come nearer to it than plantingtime, harvest-time, cherry-time, spring-time or fall-time. A want of information concerning my own was a source of unhappiness to me even during childhood. The white children could tell their ages, I could not tell why I ought to be deprived of the same privilege. I was not allowed to make any inquiries of my master concerning it. He deemed such inquiries on the part of a slave improper and impertinent, and evidence of a restless spirit. The nearest estimate I can give makes me no between twenty-seven and twenty-eight years of age. I come to this, from hearing my master say, sometime during 1835, I was about seventeen years old [Douglass, 1963: 1].

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We were not regularly allowanced. Our food was coarse corn meal boiled. This was called mush. It was put into a large wooden tray or trough, and set down upon the ground. The children were then called, like so many pigs, and like so many pigs they would come and devour the mush; some with oyster-shells, others with pieces of shingle, some with naked hands, and none with spoons. He that ate fastest got most; he that was strongest secured the best place; and few left the trough satisfied. [Douglass, 1963: 32]

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Our house stood within a few rods of the Chesapeake Bay, whose broad bosom was ever white with sails from every quarter of the habitable globe. Those beautiful vessels, robed in purest white, so delightful to the eye of freemen, were to me so many shrouded ghosts, to terrify and torment me with thoughts of my wretched condition. I have often, in the deep stillness of a summer’s Sabbath, stood all alone upon the lofty banks of that noble bay, and traced, with saddened heart and tearful eye, the countless number of sails moving off to the mighty ocean. The sight of these always affected me powerfully. My thoughts would compel utterance; and there, with no audience but the Almighty, I would pour out my souls complaint, in my rude way, with an apostrophe to the moving multitude of ships: – «You are loosed from your moorings and are free; I am fast in my chains, and am a slave! You move merrily before the gentle gale, and I sadly before the bloody whip! You are freedom’s swift-winged angels, that fly around the world; I am confined in bands of iron! O that I were free!» [Douglass, 1963: 52].

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I then commenced and continued copying the Italics in Webster’s Spelling Book, until I could make them all without looking on the book. By this time, my little Master Thomas had gone to school, and learned how to write, and had written over a number of copy-books. These had been brought home, and shown to some of our near neighbour, and then laid aside. My mistress used to

244

go to class meeting at the Wilk Street meetinghouse every Monday afternoon, and leave me to take care of the house. When left thus, I used to spend the time in writing in the spaces left in Master Thomas’s copy-book, copying what he had written. I continued to do this until I could write a hand very similar to that of Master Thomas. Thus, after a long, tedious effort for years, I finally succeeded in learning how to write [Douglass, 1963: 64].

...all the education I possess, I may say, I have stolen while A slave. I did manage to steal a little knowledge of literature, but I am now in the eyes of American law considered a thief and robber, since I have not only stolen a little knowlegde of literature, but have stolen my body also [Douglass, 1963: 6].

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It struck me with awful force. It was the blood-stained gate, the entrance to the hell of slavery, through which I was about to pass. It was a most terrible spectacle [Douglass, 1963: 77].

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Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy.... The singing of a man cast away upon a desolate island might be as appropriately considered as evidence of contentment and happiness, as the singing of a slave; the songs of the one and of the other are prompted by the same emotion. <...>

The slaves would compose and sing as they went along, consulting neither time nor tune. The thought that came up, came out – if not in the word, [then] in the sound; – and as frequently in the one as in the other. <...>

They would sometimes sing the most pathetic sentiment in the most rapturous tone, and the most rapturous sentiment in the most pathetic tone.... They would thus sing as a chorus to words which to many would seem unmeaning jargon, but which, nevertheless, were full of meaning to themselves [Douglass, 1963: 5 – 7].

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It was a severe cross, and I took it reluctantly. The truth was, I felt myself a slave, and the idea of speaking to white people weighed me down. I spoke but a few moments, when I felt a degree of freedom, and said what I desired with considerable ease. From that time until now, I have been engaged in pleading the cause of my brethren [Douglass, 1963: 12].

Young, ardent and hopeful, I entered upon this new life in the full gush of unsuspecting enthusiasm. The cause was good, the men engaged in it were good, the means to attain its triumph, good.... For a time I was made to forget that my skin was dark and my hair crisped [Douglass, 1962: 11].

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Speech! Speech! The live, calm, grave, clear, pointed, warm, sweet, melodious, and powerful human voice is [the] chosen instrumentality of social reform. While writing served its purpose, some matters were of such urgency that the spoken word was demanded. Humanity, justice and liberty

245

demand the service of the living human voice [;. Gates, 1987: 106].

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1.Blassingame J. Slave Testimony: Two Centuries of Letters, Speeches, Interviews, and Autobiographies. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1977.

2.DuBois W. E. B. The Souls of Black Folk. Bantam Books, NY-Toronto-London-Sydney- Auckland, 1989 (orig. printed in 1903).

3.Douglass F. The Life and Times of Frederick Douglass. N. Y.: Doubleday, 1962 (orig. printed in 1881).

4.Douglass F. The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American, Written by Himself. N. Y.: Doubleday, 1963 (orig. printed in 1845).

5.Douglass F. My Bondage and My Freedom. N. Y.: Orton and Mulligan, 1963 (orig. printed in 1855).

6.Huggins N.I. Slave and Citizen: The Life of Frederick Douglass. Boston: Little, Brown,

1980.

7.Gates H.L., Jr. Figures in Black: Words, Signs and the “Racial” Self. N. Y.: Oxford university Press, 1987.

8.Preston D.J. Young Frederick Douglass: The Maryland Years. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980.

9.The Frederick Douglass Papers. / Ed. by Blassingame J.W. and Associates. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979.

10.Walker P. Moral Choices: Memory, Desire, and Imagination in Nineteenth-Century American Letters. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1979.

11.Washington B.T. Up From Slavery. / Ed. by Andrews W.L. N. Y.: Doubleday, 1996 (orig. printed in 1901).

©4,.!., 2005

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