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from my own observation, but think the cases I have cited sufficient. The practice is a
very common one.
On the first of January, 1834, I left Mr. Covey, and went to live with Mr. William
Freeland, who lived about three miles from St. Michael's. I soon found Mr. Freeland a
very different man from Mr. Covey. Though not rich, he was what would be called an
educated southern gentleman. Mr. Covey, as I have shown, was a well-trained negro-
breaker and slave-driver. The former (slaveholder though he was) seemed to possess
some regard for honor, some reverence for justice, and some respect for humanity. The
latter seemed totally insensible to all such sentiments. Mr. Freeland had many of the
faults peculiar to slaveholders, such as being very passionate and fretful; but I must do
him the justice to say, that he was exceedingly free from those degrading vices to which
Mr. Covey was constantly addicted. The one was open and frank, and we always knew
where to find him. The other was a most artful deceiver, and could be understood only by
such as were skilful enough to detect his cunningly-devised frauds. Another advantage I
gained in my new master was, he made no pretensions to, or profession of, religion; and
this, in my opinion, was truly a great advantage.
I assert most unhesitatingly, that the religion of the south is a mere covering for the most
horrid crimes,--a justifier of the most appalling barbarity,--a sanctifier of the most hateful
frauds,--and a dark shelter under, which the darkest, foulest, grossest, and most infernal
deeds of slaveholders find the strongest protection. Were I to be again reduced to the
chains of slavery, next to that enslavement, I should regard being the slave of a religious
master the greatest calamity that could befall me. For of all slaveholders with whom I
have ever met, religious slaveholders are the worst. I have ever found them the meanest
and basest, the most cruel and cowardly, of all others. It was my unhappy lot not only to
belong to a religious slaveholder, but to live in a community of such religionists. Very
near Mr. Freeland lived the Rev. Daniel Weeden, and in the same neighborhood lived the
Rev. Rigby Hopkins. These were members and ministers in the Reformed Methodist
Church. Mr. Weeden owned, among others, a woman slave, whose name I have
forgotten. This woman's back, for weeks, was kept literally raw, made so by the lash of
this merciless, religious wretch. He used to hire hands. His maxim was, Behave well or
behave ill, it is the duty of a master occasionally to whip a slave, to remind him of his
master's authority. Such was his theory, and such his practice.
Mr. Hopkins was even worse than Mr. Weeden. His chief boast was his ability to
manage slaves. The peculiar feature of his government was that of whipping slaves in
advance of deserving it. He always managed to have one or more of his slaves to whip
every Monday morning. He did this to alarm their fears, and strike terror into those who
escaped. His plan was to whip for the smallest offences, to prevent the commission of
large ones. Mr. Hopkins could always find some excuse for whipping a slave. It would
astonish one, unaccustomed to a slaveholding life, to see with what wonderful ease a
slaveholder can find things, of which to make occasion to whip a slave. A mere look,
word, or motion,--a mistake, accident, or want of power,--are all matters for which a
slave may be whipped at any time. Does a slave look dissatisfied? It is said, he has the
devil in him, and it must be whipped out. Does he speak loudly when spoken to by his
master? Then he is getting high-minded, and should be taken down a button-hole lower.
Does he forget to pull off his hat at the approach of a white person? Then he is wanting in
reverence, and should be whipped for it. Does he ever venture to vindicate his conduct,
when censured for it? Then he is guilty of impudence,--one of the greatest crimes of
which a slave can be guilty. Does he ever venture to suggest a different mode of doing
things from that pointed out by his master? He is indeed presumptuous, and getting above
himself; and nothing less than a flogging will do for him. Does he, while ploughing,
break a plough,--or, while hoeing, break a hoe? It is owing to his carelessness, and for it a
slave must always be whipped. Mr. Hopkins could always find something of this sort to
justify the use of the lash, and he seldom failed to embrace such opportunities. There was
not a man in the whole county, with whom the slaves who had the getting their own
home, would not prefer to live, rather than with this Rev. Mr. Hopkins. And yet there was
not a man any where round, who made higher professions of religion, or was more active
in revivals,--more attentive to the class, love-feast, prayer and preaching meetings, or
more devotional in his family,-that prayed earlier, later, louder, and longer,--than this
same reverend slave-driver, Rigby Hopkins.
But to return to Mr. Freeland, and to my experience while in his employment. He, like
Mr. Covey, gave us enough to eat; but, unlike Mr. Covey, he also gave us sufficient time
to take our meals. He worked us hard, but always between sunrise and sunset. He
required a good deal of work to be done, but gave us good tools with which to work. His
farm was large, but he employed hands enough to work it, and with ease, compared with
many of his neighbors. My treatment, while in his employment, was heavenly, compared
with what I experienced at the hands of Mr. Edward Covey.
 Mr. Freeland was himself the owner of but two slaves. Their names were Henry Harris
and John Harris. The rest of his hands he hired. These consisted of myself, Sandy
Jenkins,* and Handy Caldwell. Henry and John were quite intelligent, and in a very little
while after I went there, I succeeded in creating in them a strong desire to learn how to
read. This desire soon sprang up in the others also. They very soon mustered up some old
spelling-books, and nothing would do but that I must keep a Sabbath school. I agreed to
do so, and accordingly devoted my Sundays to teaching these my loved fellow-slaves
how to read. Neither of them knew his letters when I went there. Some of the slaves of
the neighboring farms found what was going on, and also availed themselves of this little
opportunity to learn to read. It was understood, among all who came, that there must be
as little display about it as possible. It was necessary to keep our religious masters at St.
Michael's unacquainted with the fact, that, instead of spending the Sabbath in wrestling,
boxing, and drinking whisky, we were trying to learn how to read the will of God; for
they had much
*This is the same man who gave me the roots to prevent my being whipped by Mr.
Covey. He was "a clever soul." We used frequently to talk about the fight with Covey,
and as often as we did so, he would claim my success as the result of the roots which he
gave me. This superstition is very common among the more ignorant slaves. A slave
seldom dies but that his death is attributed to trickery. rather see us engaged in those
degrading sports, than to see us behaving like intellectual, moral, and accountable beings.
My blood boils as I think of the bloody manner in which Messrs. Wright Fairbanks and
Garrison West, both class-leaders, in connection with many others, rushed in upon us
with sticks and stones, and broke up our virtuous little Sabbath school, at St. Michael's--
all calling themselves Christians! humble followers of the Lord Jesus Christ! But I am
again digressing.
I held my Sabbath school at the house of a free colored man, whose name I deem it
imprudent to mention; for should it be known, it might embarrass him greatly, though the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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