Frederick Douglass

Kathleen E. Dubs

1 Introduction

The years between 1703 and 1944 saw the appearance of more than six thousand accounts of life under the system of institutionalized slavery in the United States.

¹

Taken as a whole, the works in this g e n r e — a n d little more than one hundred exist as book-length narratives—share certain characteristics: the brutality of abuse, the subhuman conditions, the religious piety of the slaves and the attendant hypocrisy of the slaveholders, the various methods of survival, and the occasional account of a good master. As Houston A. Baker, Jr. has poin ted out, they also represent "the narrator's ... heroic journey from slavery to freedom, and his subsequent dedication to abolitionist principles and goals."

2

Although many are sufficiently exciting to qualify as adventure stories (cf. The Life

of Olaudah Fquiano) and one (Inädents in the Life of a Slave Girl) rivals the

drama of The Diary of Anne Frank, more often than not the accounts are not autobiographies as we know them: histories of inner growth and change, and reflections on experience, as well as iterations of the external events themselves. Published largely under the auspices of northern abolitionists, they served to rally public opinion against the evil of slavery and, therefore, provided example upon example of the brutality of slave life. O n e narrative, however, not only stands apart from (and above) the type, but also falls within the genre of autobiography as it is more traditionally considered: The Life of Frederick Douglass.

Many scholars think that Douglass shaped his narrative on the model of Equiano's, which Henry Louis Gates, Jr. suggests served as a

"silent second text.'" In support, Gates cites Equiano's "subtle rhetorical strategies such as the overlapping of the slave's arduous journey to freedom and his simultaneous journey from orality to literacy," and his

1 Henry Louis Gates, Jr., Introduction, in The Classic Slave Narratives, ed. Henry Louis Gates, Jr. (New York: Mentor Books [Division of the Penguin Group]: 1987), p.

ix.

2 Houston A. Baker, Jr. ed. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave (New York: Penguin Books: 1982), pp. 8-9.

3 Gates, p. ix.

Eger |ournal of English Studies, Volume III, 2002 25-38

" s t r a t e g i e s o f s e l f - p r e s e n t a t i o n . "4 T h i s m a y w e l l b e t r u e . B u t t h e d e p t h o f s e l f - a w a r e n e s s , t h e k n o w l e d g e o f h u m a n c h a r a c t e r , a n d t h e c a p a c i t y t o r e f l e c t m o v e D o u g l a s s ' n a r r a t i v e ( a n d D o u g l a s s h i m s e l f ) a w a y f r o m E q u i a n o , a n d a b o v e a n y o t h e r p o s s i b l e i n f l u e n c e . T h e c o n c e r n f o r i n t e r i o r r a t h e r t h a n e x t e r i o r a c t i v i t y p r e v a i l s ; a n d D o u g l a s s ' m e t h o d is o f t e n t o u s e a n i n c i d e n t as m a t e r i a l f o r r e f l e c t i o n , o r as c a u s e , s o t h a t h e c a n c o m m e n t o n its e f f e c t . O n l y r a r e l y is t h e " m o r a l o f t h e s t o r y " l e f t t o t h e r e a d e r t o d i s c e r n . A f e w e x a m p l e s will illustrate.

2 T r a d i t i o n a l A s p e c t s

E a r l y o n , D o u g l a s s c h a r a c t e r i z e s o n e o f his f i r s t m a s t e r s , o n o n e o f h i s f i r s t r e s i d e n c e s , e x p l a i n i n g t h a t " a s [he] r e c e i v e d [his] f i r s t i m p r e s s i o n s o f s l a v e r y o n this p l a n t a t i o n , [ h e w o u l d ] g i v e s o m e d e s c r i p t i o n o f it, a n d o f s l a v e r y as it t h e r e e x i s t e d . ' "

Mr. Severe was rightly n a m e d : he was a cruel man. I have seen h i m w h i p a w o m a n , c a u s i n g the b l o o d to r u n half an h o u r at t h e time; a n d this, t o o , in the m i d s t of her crying children, p l e a d i n g f o r their m o t h e r ' s release. H e seemed t o take p l e a s u r e in m a n i f e s t i n g his fiendish barbarity. A d d e d to his cruelty, h e w a s a p r o f a n e swearer. It was e n o u g h to chill the b l o o d a n d s t i f f e n the hair o f an ordinary m a n to hear h i m talk. Scarce a s e n t e n c e escaped h i m b u t that w a s c o m m e n c e d or c o n c l u d e d by s o m e h o r r i d o a t h . T h e field w a s the place t o witness his cruelty a n d p r o f a n i t y . His p r e s e n c e m a d e it b o t h the field o f b l o o d a n d b l a s p h e m y . F r o m t h e rising till the going d o w n o f t h e sun, he w a s cursing, raving, cutting, a n d slashing a m o n g t h e slaves o f t h e field, in t h e m o s t frightful m a n n e r . H i s career was short. H e died very s o o n after I w e n t to C o l o n e l Lloyd's; a n d h e died as he lived, uttering, with his dying g r o a n s , bitter curses a n d h o r r i d o a t h s . His death was regarded by t h e slaves as the result of a m e r c i f u l providence.

Mr. Severe's place was filled by a Mr. H o p k i n s . H e was a very d i f f e r e n t m a n . H e was less cruel, less p r o f a n e , and m a d e less n o i s e t h a n M r . Severe. H i s course w a s characterized by

4 Gates, p. xiv.

5 Frederick Douglass, The Ufe of Frederick Douglass, in Gates, supra (note 1), p. 259.

The locations of subsequent quotations will be given parenthetically immediately fol- lowing each quotation.

n o extraordinary d e m o n s t r a t i o n s o f cruelty. H e w h i p p e d , b u t s e e m e d to take n o pleasure in it. H e was called by the slaves a g o o d overseer, (p. 261)

E v e n when Douglass is himself the subject of cruelty, his iteration is stoic. After two close escapes f r o m accidental death, one of which resulted in the destruction of his master's wagon, Douglass is escorted back to the woods by his master.

[Covey] then w e n t to a large g u m tree, a n d with his axe cut three large switches, and, after t r i m m i n g t h e m u p neatly with his p o c k e t - k n i f e , he o r d e r e d m e to take o f f m y clothes.

I m a d e h i m n o answer b u t s t o o d with my clothes on. H e r e p e a t e d his order. I still m a d e h i m n o answer, n o r did I m o v e to strip myself. U p o n this h e r u s h e d at m e with the fierceness o f a tiger, tore o f f my clothes, and lashed m e till h e had w o r n o u t his switches, cutting m e so savagely as to leave the m a r k s visible f o r a l o n g time after. T h e w h i p p i n g was the first of a n u m b e r just like it, and for similar o f f e n c e s , (pp. 2 9 0 - 2 9 1 )

T h e understatement here, and the irony of the "similar offences,"

focuses our attention on the incident, n o t the victim. It is the injustice of the beating as much as the beating itself which is important. C o m p a r e this description to that of Maty Prince, in her personal narrative/' As punishment for breaking a large earthen jar during a thunderstorm, Mary is whipped by her mistress, w h o ceases only from weakness of exertion.

But that evening, she informs her husband of Mary's "disobedience" so that the husband not only whips Maty again, but promises to resume the beating in the morning, which he does, repeatedly, aided by occasional refreshment from his wife. And during one interval

[w]hile m y mistress w e n t to bring h i m drink, there was a d r e a d f u l earthquake. P a r t of the r o o f fell d o w n , and every- thing in t h e h o u s e w e n t — c l a t t e r , clatter, clatter. O h I t h o u g h t the e n d of all things near at h a n d ; and I was so sore with the flogging, that I scarcely cared w h e t h e r I lived or died. T h e earth was g r o a n i n g a n d shaking; everything t u m - bling about; a n d my mistress and the slaves w e r e shrieking

r' The narrative of the life of Mary Prince is also found in Gates, cited supra.

and crying o u t , " T h e e a r t h q u a k e ! the earthquake!" It was an awful day f o r us all.

D u r i n g the c o n f u s i o n I crawled away o n my h a n d s a n d knees, a n d laid myself d o w n u n d e r t h e steps o f the piazza, in f r o n t o f t h e house. I w a s in a d r e a d f u l s t a t e — m y b o d y all b l o o d a n d bruises, a n d I c o u l d n o t help m o a n i n g piteously.

T h e o t h e r slaves, w h e n they saw m e , s h o o k their heads a n d said, " P o o r child! p o o r c h i l d ! " — I lay there till m o r n i n g , careless o f w h a t m i g h t h a p p e n , f o r life w a s very weak in m e , a n d I w i s h e d m o r e t h a n ever to die. B u t w h e n w e are very young, d e a t h always s e e m s a great way o f f , and it w o u l d n o t c o m e t h a t night to me.

T h e n e x t m o r n i n g I w a s f o r c e d by m y master to rise a n d go a b o u t my usual w o r k , t h o u g h m y b o d y and limbs w e r e so stiff a n d sore, that I c o u l d n o t m o v e w i t h o u t the greatest p a i n . — N e v e r t h e l e s s , e v e n after all this severe p u n i s h m e n t , I never h e a r d the last o f t h a t jar; m y mistress was always t h r o w i n g it in my face. (p. 196)

Her purpose is clearly to present the brutality of the master and mistress and evoke pity for herself. It is difficult to imagine Douglass seeking such self-pity, or failing to find significance in the earthquake at that particular moment, for, later, when detailing the circumstances under which h e is "sent" to Baltimore, he admits: "I have ever regarded it as the first plain manifestation of that kind providence which has ever since attended me, and marked my life with so many favours." (p. 273)

In both narratives we see the fury of the master over the loss of property vented on another piece of property—much as we kick the tire of a car or slam its doors w h e n its engine w o n ' t start. But in Douglass' narrative it is the incident, the "similar o f f e n c e s " and their punishments, which arrests the reader, n o t the shrieks of the slave; it is the understatement of the "normality" of such behavior. Although it may seem that Douglass is stating the obvious, note the opportunity missed by Mary Prince.

In a later incident Douglass recounts the fatal penalty for trespass- ing, and the absence of penalty for its punishment.

C o l o n e l Lloyd's slaves w e r e in t h e habit of s p e n d i n g a p a r t o f their nights a n d Sundays in f i s h i n g for oysters, and in this way m a d e u p t h e deficiency o f their scanty allowance.

A n old m a n b e l o n g i n g to C o l o n e l Lloyd, while thus engaged, h a p p e n e d to get b e y o n d the limits of Colonel Lloyd's, a n d o n the premises o f Mr. Beal Bondly. A t this trespass, Mr.

B o n d l y t o o k o f f e n c e , a n d with his m u s k e t came d o w n to the s h o r e , a n d blew its deadly c o n t e n t s i n t o the p o o r old m a n .

M r . Bondly c a m e over t o see C o l o n e l Lloyd t h e n e x t day, w h e t h e r to pay f o r his p r o p e r t y , o r to justify himself in w h a t he h a d d o n e , I k n o w not. A t any rate, this w h o l e fiendish transaction was s o o n h u s h e d u p . T h e r e was very little said a b o u t it at all, a n d n o t h i n g d o n e . It w a s a c o m m o n saying, even a m o n g little w h i t e boys, that it was w o r t h a h a l f - c e n t to kill a "nigger", and a half-cent to b u r y one. (p. 270)

B u t t h e s e a r e t h e c l e a r e x a m p l e s o f D o u g l a s s ' a d a p t a t i o n s o f t h e f o r m u l a ; it is w h e n h e d e v e l o p s a n d a d v a n c e s t h e f o r m u l a t h a t h i s n a r r a t i v e m o s t m o v e s a n d p r o v o k e s .

3 U n i q u e A s p e c t s

T h e f i r s t h i n t o f h i s d e e p e r a w a r e n e s s o c c u r s in his c o m m e n t s u p o n t h e s i n g i n g o f t h e slaves, l o n g u s e d b y s l a v e - h o l d e r s as p r o o f o f t h e i r h a p p i n e s s , o f t h e i r joy in t h e i r w o r k . I n q u o t i n g s p e c i f i c a l l y t h e c h o r u s o f a s o n g a b o u t t h e G r e a t L l o u s e F a r m , D o u g l a s s n o t e s :

T h i s they w o u l d sing, as a c h o r u s , to w o r d s w h i c h to m a n y w o u l d seem u n m e a n i n g jargon, b u t which, n e v e r t h e - less, w e r e full of m e a n i n g to themselves. I have s o m e t i m e s t h o u g h t that the m e r e hearing of t h o s e songs w o u l d d o m o r e to i m p r e s s s o m e m i n d s with the h o r r i b l e character o f slavery, t h a n the reading of w h o l e v o l u m e s o f p h i l o s o p h y o n the subject could do.

I did n o t , w h e n a slave, u n d e r s t a n d t h e deep m e a n i n g of t h o s e r u d e and apparently i n c o h e r e n t songs. I was myself within the circle; so that I neither saw n o r heard as t h o s e w i t h o u t m i g h t see a n d hear. T h e y told a tale of w o e w h i c h was t h e n altogether b e y o n d m y c o m p r e h e n s i o n ; . . . T o t h o s e songs I trace m y first glimmering c o n c e p t i o n o f the d e h u - m a n i z i n g character o f slavery.

I h a v e o f t e n b e e n utterly a s t o n i s h e d , since I c a m e to the n o r t h , to find p e r s o n s w h o could speak o f the singing a m o n g slaves as evidence o f their c o n t e n t m e n t a n d h a p p i n e s s ; it is

i m p o s s i b l e to c o n c e i v e of a greater mistake. Slaves sing m o s t w h e n they are m o s t u n h a p p y , (pp. 262—3)

T h e acknowledgement of ignorance, of growing self-awareness, the reflection of being inside " t h e circle" or out: these mark the narrative of Douglass. So, too, do his perceptions of what these events represent, not just what they are. For Douglass songs are expressions not of happiness, but of relief: " T h e songs of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart;

and he is relieved by them, only as an aching heart is relieved by its tears.

At least, such is my experience." (p. 263) And if we misunderstand, it is because we have not shared in that experience, have not been "inside the circle." But Douglass has, and here, as elsewhere, the black slave speaks for all slaves.

In other passages Douglass counters similar myths of slave life—-for example, that slaves do n o t complain of their treatment. In reporting that,

^irfl

the wealth of Colonel Lloyd was so vast that many of his own slaves often never saw him, he details a chance encounter between the Colonel and one of his slaves. W h e n asked whether he was well treated, the slave replied in the negative. "What, does he work you too hard?" "Yes, sir."

"Well, don't he give you enough to eat?" "Yes, sir, he gives me enough, such as it is." (p. 265) A f t e r this brief exchange, b o t h go about their business. But within three weeks the slave, informed that he had dis- pleased his master, was sold "down the river," to a Georgia trader, "a condition held by [all slaves] in the utmost horror and dread." (p. 282) Douglass concludes: " I t is partiy in consequence of such facts, that slaves, when inquired of as to their condition and the character of their masters, almost universally say they are contented, and that their masters are kind. ... They suppress the truth rather than take the consequences of telling it, and in so doing prove themselves a part of the h u m a n family." (p. 266) W h o could quarrel with their response, or the conclu- sion Douglass skilfully draws: slaves n o t only learn to survive, they are human.

Another myth Douglass exposes, in his coolly analytical way, is that slaves lack human feeling, or, as Marie St.Clare repeats over and over again in Uncle Tom's Cabin, "They just don't feel things the way we do."

At the beginning of his narrative, Douglass had reported that he and his

m o t h e r had been separated when he was an infant, and that he never

knew her as [his] m o t h e r . " (p. 256) It was the practice of slave-holders to

separate children f r o m their mothers during infancy, return the mother

to whatever work she was doing as soon as possible, and place the infant with an old woman, useful for nothing else. Douglass does not know the purpose of this practice "unless it be to hinder the development of the child's natural affection towards its mother, and to blunt and destroy the natural affection of the mother for the child. This is the inevitable result." (p. 256) A n d yet Douglass' mother felt such strong natural affection for him that on four or five occasions she journeyed, on f o o t , about twelve miles (each way) to be with him. These visits occurred at night, after her work in the fields; and from each visit she returned early, to be in the field before sunrise to avoid being whipped. She put him to sleep, but left before he awoke. As he movingly admits:

Very little c o m m u n i c a t i o n ever t o o k place b e t w e e n us.

D e a t h s o o n e n d e d w h a t little w e could have while she lived, a n d with it h e r h a r d s h i p s a n d suffering. . . . I was n o t allowed t o be p r e s e n t d u r i n g h e r illness, at h e r death, or burial. . . . N e v e r having enjoyed, to any considerable extent, h e r s o o t h i n g presence, h e r t e n d e r a n d w a t c h f u l care, I received the tidings of her death with m u c h the same e m o t i o n s I s h o u l d have p r o b a b l y felt at the death of a stranger, (p. 256)

With this incident, Douglass accounts for the "fact" that slaves have n o feelings for family. And he exposes, as he will again and again, the brutality at the heart of the system.

By far the most significant event in Douglass' life occurs in Baltimore—"[that] first plain manifestation of ... kind providence. . . . "

As do many other slaves in their narratives, Douglass expresses his desire to learn to read. A n d while under the tutelage of Mrs. Auld, he makes progress. But Mr. Auld, on learning of the schooling, forbade it, telling his wife, a m o n g other things, that it was unlawful to teach a slave to read, and that "learning would spoil the best nigger in the world. ... If you teach [a] nigger to read, there would be n o keeping him. It would forever unfit him to be a slave. He would at once become unmanageable, and of n o good to his master. As to himself, it could do him no good, but a great deal of harm. It would make him discontented and unhappy."

(pp. 274—5) T h e effect of this p r o n o u n c e m e n t on Douglass is p r o f o u n d .

T h e s e w o r d s sank d e e p into my heart, stirred u p senti-

m e n t s within that lay slumbering, a n d called i n t o existence an

entirely n e w train o f t h o u g h t . It w a s a n e w a n d special reve- lation, explaining d a r k a n d m y s t e r i o u s things, w i t h w h i c h m y y o u t h f u l u n d e r s t a n d i n g had struggled, b u t struggled in vain. I n o w u n d e r s t o o d w h a t had been to m e a m o s t p e r p l e x i n g dif- f i c u l t y — t o wit, t h e w h i t e m a n ' s p o w e r to enslave the black m a n . It was a g r a n d a c h i e v e m e n t , a n d I prized it highly.

F r o m that m o m e n t , I u n d e r s t o o d t h e pathway f r o m slavery t o f r e e d o m . It was just w h a t I w a n t e d and I g o t it at a time w h e n I the least e x p e c t e d it. (p. 275)

And literacy did prove damaging to the young Douglass—who was at this point about twelve years old.

T h e m o r e I r e a d , t h e m o r e I w a s led to a b h o r and detest m y enslavers. . . . A s I read a n d c o n t e m p l a t e d the subject, b e h o l d ! that v e r y d i s c o n t e n t w h i c h M a s t e r H u g h had p r e d i c t e d w o u l d f o l l o w my l e a r n i n g to r e a d had already c o m e , to t o r m e n t a n d sting m y s o u l to u n u t t e r a b l e anguish.

A s I writhed u n d e r it, I w o u l d at times feel that learning to r e a d had been a c u r s e rather t h a n a blessing, (p. 279)

It is the institution of slavery which repels Douglass, not his specific condition. At this point he has not been brutally mistreated, whipped, starved, bred; relatively speaking his life has been "good." Even so, he admits: "I often found myself regretting my own existence, and wishing myself dead; and but for the hope of being free, I have no doubt but that I should have killed myself, or done something for which I should have been killed." (p. 279) Many slaves had understood literacy as a means to freedom: the ability to forge papers, to read posters, and so forth. But Douglass sees literacy in a much deeper sense: intellectual freedom, liberation of the spirit. I n this, as in o t h e r instances, he demonstrates his understanding of slavery as an institution: how it holds the slave, h o w it robs him of his humanity—if he lets it. It is this extraordinary awareness which sets Douglass and his narrative apart.

T h e epiphany of his narrative occurs after the death of his master, Captain Anthony, w h e n he is sent for, "to be valued with the other property. Here again [his] feelings rose up in detestation of slavery. [He]

had n o w a new conception of [his] degraded condition." (p. 281) N o t a

h u m a n being; but a piece of property. "There were horses and men,

cattle and women, pigs and children, all holding the same rank in the

scale of being, and ... all subjected to the same narrow examination. ...

At this moment, I saw more clearly than ever the brutalizing effects of slavery upon both slave and slaveholder." (p. 282) This is Douglass' most p r o f o u n d insight into the evil essence of the insititution of slavery: that it reduces to the level of sub-humanity both the slave and the slave-holder.

Here, exposed to full view, is the soul of slavery in all its naked ugliness.

And again, Mrs. Auld, innocent of slavery, was a kind w o m a n , the good Christian w o m a n who had wanted to teach him to read.

But, alas! this kind h e a r t had but a s h o r t time to r e m a i n such. T h e fatal p o i s o n o f irresponsible p o w e r was already in h e r h a n d s , a n d s o o n c o m m e n c e d its infernal work. T h a t c h e e r f u l eye, u n d e r the i n f l u e n c e of slavery, s o o n b e c a m e r e d with rage; that voice, m a d e all of sweet accord, c h a n g e d t o o n e of h a r s h a n d h o r r i d discord; and that angelic face gave place to that o f a d e m o n , (p. 274)

T h e slave is n o t u n i q u e in being r o b b e d o f his h u m a n i t y , D o u g l a s s o b s e r v e d : "Slavery p r o v e d as i n j u r i o u s to her as it did to m e . " (p. 277)

Douglass' sense of self-awareness and the bestiality of slavery are expressed again, when he relates his last experience of being whipped.

Captain Auld, unable to handle Douglass—considering him ruined by city life—leases him for one year to Mr. Covey, w h o had the reputa- tion of a "nigger-breaker." By his own testimony, he was unmanageable when he arrived. Usually, Douglass posits his own awkwardness as the excuse for being whipped; but on one occasion he is pushed, and whipped, beyond endurance. H e runs off to his owner, a journey of seven miles which takes him about five hours, so bad is his condition.

H e arrives in a state of shock.

F r o m t h e c r o w n of m y h e a d to my feet, I was c o v e r e d with blood. M y hair was all clotted with dust a n d blood; m y shirt was stiff with b l o o d . My legs a n d feet w e r e torn in s u n d r y places with briers and t h o r n s , and w e r e also c o v e r e d with blood. I s u p p o s e I l o o k e d üke a m a n w h o h a d escaped a den of wild beasts, and barely escaped them. I n this state I a p p e a r e d b e f o r e my m a s t e r , h u m b l y entreating him to i n t e r p o s e his authority f o r m y protection, (p. 296)

T h e master, on learning the facts, allows Douglass to stay the night.

In the morning, assuring him he is in n o mortal danger f r o m Covey, "a good m a n , " he orders him back, threatening him if he does not obey.

W h e n Douglass reaches Covey's cornfield, and sees Covey coming toward him with his cowskin, to give him another whipping, he runs into the cornfield, and escapes to the cabin of Sandy Jenkins, a slave w h o m Douglass knew, w h o lived there with his free wife.

N o t i n g that his "behaviour was altogether unaccountable," (p. 296) Douglass once again asks advice. Jenkins tells him he must return, but gives him "a certain r o o t " which he must always carry " o n [his] right side, (which) would render it impossible for Mr. Covey or any other white man, to whip [him]." (p. 297) Curiously, w h e n Douglass returns, Covey greets him "very kindly." But it is, after all, Sunday; and Covey, being a pious man, is on his way to church. It must be that, and not the root, Douglass believes. But on Monday the root receives a severe test.

In the early morning hours, in the barn about his chores, Douglass is lassoed by Covey, w h o attempts to tie him. At this moment, Douglass tells us, " f r o m whence came the spirit I don't know-—[but] I resolved to fight." (p. 298) O v e r c o m i n g his initial shock, Covey calls to a h a n d — H u g h e s — w h o joins the fray. Incredibly, Douglass dispatches Hughes, and when Covey calls for help f r o m Bill—another slave—Bill informs him that he had been hired out to work, not assist in whippings. So Douglass and Covey "were at it for nearly two hours." The conclusion of the matter is clear to all but Covey.

C o v e y at length let m e go, p u f f i n g a n d blowing at a great rate, saying that if I had n o t resisted, he w o u l d n o t have w h i p p e d m e half so m u c h . T h e truth was, that he had n o t w h i p p e d m e at all. I c o n s i d e r e d him as getting entirely the w o r s t e n d of the bargain; f o r he had d r a w n n o b l o o d f r o m m e , b u t I h a d f r o m him. (p. 298)

Further, for the remainder of Douglass' service, Covey never lays a finger on him. Douglass is convinced it is because Covey knows that he will come off worse than before. But this battle marks more than the end of Douglass' whippings.

T h i s battle w i t h Mr. C o v e y was the t u r n i n g - p o i n t in m y career as a slave. . . . I felt as I never felt before. It was a

glorious r e s u r r e c t i o n , f r o m t h e t o m b of slavery, t o the h e a v e n of f r e e d o m . . . . I n o w resolved that, h o w e v e r l o n g I m i g h t remain a slave in f o r m , the day had p a s s e d f o r e v e r w h e n I could b e a slave in fact. I did n o t hesitate t o let it be k n o w n of m e , that the w h i t e m a n w h o expected t o succeed in w h i p p i n g , m u s t also succeed in killing me. (pp. 298—9)

A n d he was true to his word. T h o u g h he remained a slave for four m o r e years, and had several fights, including one in which he was nearly killed by a gang of carpenters, he "was never whipped." (p. 299)

O n c e again we see that Douglass penetrates to the heart of slavery.

It is not the conditions of slavery, it is the essence of slavery: being m a d e subhuman, less than a man.

I have f o u n d that, to m a k e a c o n t e n t e d slave, it is neces- sary to m a k e h i m a t h o u g h t l e s s one. It is necessary t o d a r k e n his m o r a l and m e n t a l vision, a n d as far as possible, t o anni- hilate the p o w e r o f reason. H e m u s t be able to feel that slav- ery is right; a n d h e can be b r o u g h t to that only w h e n h e ceases to be a m a n . (p. 315)

Douglass also reveals keen insight into the methods slaveholders use to keep slaves "happy." As an example, he cites the Christmas holidays.

T h e days between Christmas and N e w Year were holidays, and the slaves were not required to p e r f o r m any physical labor. They spent the time as they chose: visiting relatives; making mats and baskets; hunting; ball- playing, fiddling, dancing, drinking whiskey. Douglass observes that the drinking of whiskey was the pass-time most approved by the masters. " I t was deemed a disgrace n o t to get drunk at Christmas." (p. 299) O t h e r - wise it was as though the generosity of the master were being refused, and the slave himself lacking sufficient industry to provide the where- with-all for his recreation. More significantly, according to Douglass, these festivities were " a m o n g the most effective means in the hands of the slaveholder in keeping down the spirit of insurrection. Were the slaveholders at once to abandon this practice, ... it would lead to an im- mediate insurrection a m o n g the slaves." (p. 300)

N o t only did these holiday revels serve as safety valves, they were

p a r t a n d parcel of t h e gross f r a u d , w r o n g , and i n h u m a n i t y o f slavery. T h e y are p r o f e s s e d l y a c u s t o m established by t h e

b e n e v o l e n c e of t h e slaveholders; b u t . . . it is t h e result of selfishness, a n d o n e o f the g r o s s e s t f r a u d s c o m m i t t e d u p o n t h e d o w n - t r o d d e n slave. T h e y d o n o t give the slaves this t i m e because they w o u l d n o t like t o have their w o r k d u r i n g its c o n t i n u a n c e , b u t b e c a u s e they k n o w it w o u l d b e u n s a f e to d e p r i v e t h e m o f it. (p. 300)

F u r t h e r ,

their object s e e m s t o be, to disgust their slaves w i t h f r e e d o m , b y plunging t h e m i n t o the lowest d e p t h s of dissipation. F o r instance, the s l a v e h o l d e r s n o t only like to see t h e slave drink o f his own a c c o r d , b u t will a d o p t v a r i o u s plans t o m a k e him d r u n k . . . . So, w h e n the holidays e n d e d , w e staggered up f r o m the filth o f o u r wallowing, t o o k a l o n g b r e a t h , a n d m a r c h e d to t h e field,—feeling, u p o n the whole, rather glad t o go, f r o m w h a t o u r m a s t e r h a d deceived us i n t o a belief w a s f r e e d o m , b a c k to the arms o f slavery, (p. 300)

W h e r e o t h e r s l a v e n a r r a t o r s p r e s e n t o n l y t h e r e v e l s , D o u g l a s s p r o v i d e s k e e n a n a l y s i s . H i s is m o r e t h a n a p r e s e n t a t i o n o f a s p e c t s o f slave l i f e ; it is a c r i t i q u e o f t h e i n s t i t u t i o n itself a n d t h e f r a u d a n d d e c e p t i o n u p o n w h i c h it is b a s e d .

4 C o n c l u s i o n

D o u g l a s s ' Life a l s o i n c l u d e s h i s v i e w s o n t h e e f f e c t s o f r e l i g i o n , If it h a d any e f f e c t o n [Auld's] character, it m a d e h i m m o r e cruel a n d h a t e f u l in all his ways, f o r I believe h i m to h a v e been a m u c h w o r s e m a n a f t e r his c o n v e r s i o n than b e f o r e . P r i o r t o his c o n v e r s i o n , he relied u p o n his o w n depravity t o shield a n d sustain h i m in his savage barbarity;

b u t after his c o n v e r s i o n , h e f o u n d religious sanction and s u p p o r t f o r his slaveholding cruelty, (p. 287)

t h e a c c o u n t o f h i s e s c a p e t o f r e e d o m , c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n s o f o t h e r s l a v e s a n d s l a v e p r a c t i c e s , a n d s o m e p a s s a g e s o f m e l o d r a m a a n d piety'. T h e f i n a l f a c e t o f t h e a p p e a l o f D o u g l a s s ' n a r r a t i v e is h i s i n s i g h t i n t o h u m a n c h a r a c t e r . H i s k n o w l e d g e t h a t s l a v e r y d a m a g e s t h e s l a v e - h o l d e r as w e l l as t h e s l a v e is clear. S o t o o is h i s ability t o r e a d i n d i v i d u a l h u m a n b e i n g s .

H i s a n a l y s i s o f his r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h C o v e y — t h e m a n w i t h w h o m h e s u c c e s s f u l l y f o u g h t — i s a s t u t e .

M r . Covey enjoyed the m o s t u n b o u n d e d r e p u t a t i o n f o r being a first-rate overseer a n d negro-breaker. It was of c o n s i d e r - able i m p o r t a n c e t o him. T h a t r e p u t a t i o n was at stake: and h a d he sent m e — a b o y a b o u t sixteen years o l d — t o t h e p u b - He w h i p p i n g p o s t , his r e p u t a t i o n w o u l d have b e e n lost; so, to save his r e p u t a t i o n , h e s u f f e r e d m e to go u n p u n i s h e d , (p. 299)

H i s a n a l y s i s o f his m a s t e r , C a p t a i n A u l d , w h o s e n t h i m t o C o v e y , is s i m i l a r l y p e r c e p t i v e . T h e d e s c r i p t i o n a l s o s h o w s D o u g l a s s a t h i s r h e t o r i c a l b e s t . C a p t a i n A u l d w a s m e a n .

A n d , like m o s t o t h e r m e a n m e n , he lacked the ability to conceal his m e a n n e s s . Captain A u l d was n o t a b o r n slave- holder. . . . H e came i n t o p o s s e s s i o n of all his slaves by m a r - riage; a n d of all m e n , a d o p t e d slaveholders are the w o r s t . H e w a s cruel, b u t cowardly. H e c o m m a n d e d w i t h o u t f i r m n e s s . I n the e n f o r c e m e n t o f his rules, h e was at times rigid, a n d at times lax. At times, h e s p o k e to his slaves with the f i r m n e s s o f N a p o l e o n and t h e fury of the d e m o n ; at o t h e r times, he m i g h t as well be m i s t a k e n f o r an inquirer w h o had lost his way. Lie did n o t h i n g o f himself. Lie m i g h t have p a s s e d f o r a Hon, b u t for his ears. I n all things n o b l e which he a t t e m p t e d , his o w n m e a n n e s s s h o n e m o s t c o n s p i c u o u s . His airs, w o r d s , a n d actions, were t h e airs, w o r d s , and actions of slave-hold- ers, and being a s s u m e d , w e r e a w k w a r d e n o u g h . Lie was n o t even a g o o d imitator. H e p o s s e s s e d all the disposition t o de- ceive, b u t w a n t e d t h e p o w e r . H a v i n g n o resources w i t h i n himself, he was c o m p e l l e d to b e the copyist of m a n y , a n d b e i n g such, he was f o r e v e r the victim of inconsistency a n d of c o n s e q u e n c e he was an o b j e c t of c o n t e m p t , and was h e l d as such even by his slaves, (pp. 286—287)

W h a t a d a m n i n g d e s c r i p t i o n ; yet h o w c o n v i n c i n g .

B u t t o say t h a t it is typical o f t h e g e n r e is t o say t h a t t h e The Canterbury Tales is typical o f n a r r a t i v e p o e t r y . D o u g l a s s , in r e l a t i v e l y f e w p a g e s , p r e s e n t s his life, h i s c h a r a c t e r , a n d a s t i n g i n g i n d i c t m e n t o f t h e i n s t i t u t i o n o f s l a v e r y b y c o u n t e r i n g t h e m y t h s o f slavery, p e n e t r a t i n g t h e

essence of "the whole system of fraud and inhumanity," and revealing the weakness and corruption u p o n which it was based. It is a remarkable work.

More than the story of " h o w a man was made a slave; and ... h o w a slave was made a man," (p. 294) it is a story demonstrating incontro- vertibly that slaves were indeed men, h u m a n beings, with feelings and moral values, and with intellects of great power. Douglass knew that he was living proof that the slave who learned to read and write was the first to run away.' But he also k n e w — a n d he was living p r o o f — t h a t running away was insufficient. So was simply telling the story of the escape and the horrors which led to it. Douglass was a black man, freed—or rather freeing h i m s e l f — f r o m the barbarity of an animalistic existence, destined to act as spokesman for humanity. His call for abolition was as much a plea for the slaveholder as for the slave. And it was a powerful call ig- nored at one's peril.

7 Gates, p. ix.