American Literature: Readings in American Literature Volume I - Chapter 3- 4 C The Romantic Period, 1820

On the Capture of Fugitive Slaves Near Washington
by James Russell Lowell

An Appeal in Favor of That Class of Americans Called Africans

by Lydia Maria Child

Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl by Harriet Jacobs (aka. Linda Brent)

Our Nig by Harriet E. Wilson

The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass

ON THE CAPTURE OF FUGITIVE SLAVES NEAR WASHINGTON
BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

Look on who will in apathy, and stifle they who can,

The sympathies, the hopes, the words, that make man truly man;

Let those whose hearts are dungeoned up with interest or with ease

Consent to hear with quiet pulse of loathsome deeds like these!

I first drew in New England’s air, and from her hardy breast

Sucked in the tyrant-hating milk that will not let me rest;

And if my words seem treason to the dullard and the tame,

’Tis but my Bay-State dialect,—our fathers spake the same!

Shame on the costly mockery of piling stone on stone

To those who won our liberty, the heroes dead and gone,

While we look coldly on and see law-shielded ruffians slay

The men who fain would win their own, the heroes of to-day!

Are we pledged to craven silence? Oh, fling it to the wind,

The parchment wall that bars us from the least of human kind,

That makes us cringe and temporize, and dumbly stand at rest,

While Pity’s burning flood of words is red-hot in the breast!

Though we break our fathers’ promise, we have nobler duties first;

The traitor to Humanity is the traitor most accursed;

Man is more than Constitutions; better rot beneath the sod,

Than be true to Church and State while we are doubly false to God!

We owe allegiance to the State; but deeper, truer, more,

To the sympathies that God hath set within our spirit’s core;

Our country claims our fealty; we grant it so, but then

Before Man made us citizens, great Nature made us men.

He’s true to God who’s true to man; wherever wrong is done,

To the humblest and the weakest, ’neath the all-beholding sun,

That wrong is also done to us; and they are slaves most base,

Whose love of right is for themselves, and not for all their race.

God works for all. Ye cannot hem the hope of being free

With parallels of latitude, with mountain-range or sea.

Put golden padlocks on Truth’s lips, be callous as ye will,

From soul to soul, o’er all the world, leaps one electric thrill.

Chain down your slaves with ignorance, ye cannot keep apart,

With all your craft of tyranny, the human heart from heart:

When first the Pilgrims landed on the Bay State’s iron shore,

The word went forth that slavery should one day be no more.

Out from the land of bondage ’tis decreed our slaves shall go,

And signs to us are offered, as erst to Pharaoh;

If we are blind, their exodus, like Israel’s of yore,

Through a Red Sea is doomed to be, whose surges are of gore.

’Tis ours to save our brethren, with peace and love to win

Their darkened hearts from error, ere they harden it to sin;

But if before his duty man with listless spirit stands,

Ere long the Great Avenger takes the work from out his hands.

1. Read the following lines from the poem:

While we look coldly on and see law-shielded ruffians slay
The men who fain would win their own, the heroes of to-day!

Who are the “ruffians” to whom Lowell refers? What does he mean when he says they are

“law-shielded”?

2. In regard to the institution of slavery, use the following lines to help you understand how

Lowell felt, and then explain it in your own words:

Man is more than Constitutions; better rot beneath the sod,
Than be true to Church and State while we are doubly false to God!

3. What is the poet’s message in these lines?

Chain down your slaves with ignorance, ye cannot keep apart,
With all your craft of tyranny, the human heart from heart:

AN APPEAL IN FAVOR

OF THAT CLASS OF

AMERICANS CALLED

AFRICANS

by Lydia Maria Child

CHAPTER VIII. PREJUDICES

AGAINST PEOPLE OF COLOR,

AND OUR DUTIES IN RELATION

TO THIS SUBJECT.

WHILE we bestow our earnest disapprobation

on the system of slavery, let us not flatter

ourselves that we are in reality any better than

our brethren of the South. Thanks to our soil

and climate, and the early exertions of the

Quakers, the form of slavery does not exist

among us; but the very spirit of the hateful and

mischievous thing is here in all its strength.

The manner in which we use what power we

have, gives us ample reason to be grateful that

the nature of our institutions does not intrust

us with more. Our prejudice against colored

people is even more inveterate than it is at the

South. The planter is often attached to his

negroes, and lavishes caresses and kind words

upon them, as he would on a favorite hound: but

our coldhearted, ignoble prejudice admits of no

exception—no intermission.

The Southerners have long continued habit,

apparent interest and dreaded danger, to

palliate the wrong they do; but we stand

without excuse. They tell us that Northern

ships and Northern capital have been engaged

in this wicked business; and the reproach is

true. Several fortunes in this city have been

made by the sale of negro blood. If these

criminal transactions are still carried on, they

are done in silence and secrecy, because public

opinion has made them disgraceful. But if the

free States wished to cherish the system of

slavery forever, they could not take a more

direct course than they now do. Those who are

kind and liberal on all other subjects, unite with

the selfish and the proud in their unrelenting

efforts to keep the colored population in the

lowest state of degradation; and the influence

they unconsciously exert over children early

infuses into their innocent minds the same

strong feelings of contempt.

The intelligent and well informed have the least

share of this prejudice; and when their minds

can be brought to reflect upon it, I have

generally observed that they soon cease to have

any at all. But such a general apathy prevails

and the subject is so seldom brought into view,

that few are really aware how oppressively the

influence of society is made to bear upon this

injured class of the community. When I have

related facts, that came under my own

observation, I have often been listened to with

surprise, which gradually increased to

indignation. I will as briefly as possible, in

order that my readers may not be ignorant of

the extent of this tyrannical prejudice, state the

evidence, and leave them to judge of it, as their

hearts and consciences may dictate.

In the first place, an unjust law exists in this

Commonwealth, by which marriages between

persons of different color is pronounced illegal.

I am perfectly aware of the gross ridicule to

which I may subject myself by alluding to this

particular; but I have lived too long, and

observed too much, to be disturbed by the

world’s mockery. In the first place, the

government ought not to be invested with

power to control the affections, any more than

the consciences of citizens. A man has at least

as good a right to choose his wife, as he has to

choose his religion. His taste may not suit his

neighbors; but so long as his deportment is

correct, they have no right to interfere with his

concerns. In the second place, this law is a

useless disgrace to Massachusetts. Under

existing circumstances, none but those whose

condition in life is too low to be much affected by

public opinion, will form such alliances; and

they, when they choose to do so, will make such

marriages, in spite of the law. I know two or

three instances where women of the laboring

class have been united to reputable, industrious

colored men. These husbands regularly bring

home their wages, and are kind to their

families. If by some of the odd chances, which

not unfrequently occur in the world, their wives

should become heirs to any property, the

children may be wronged out of it, because the

law pronounces them illegitimate. And while

this injustice exists with regard to honest,

industrious individuals, who are merely guilty

of differing from us in a matter of taste, neither

the legislation nor customs of slave-holding

States exert their influence against immoral

connections.

In one portion of our country this fact is shown

in a very peculiar and striking manner. There is

a numerous class at New Orleans, called

Quateroons, or Quadroons, because their

colored blood has for several successive

generations been intermingled with the white.

The women are much distinguished for

personal beauty and gracefulness of motion;

and their parents frequently send them to

France for the advantages of an elegant

education. White gentlemen of the first rank

are desirous of being invited to their parties,

and often become seriously in love with these

fascinating but unfortunate beings. Prejudice

forbids matrimony, but universal custom

sanctions temporary connections, to which a

certain degree of respectability is allowed, on

account of the peculiar situation of the parties.

These attachments often continue for years—

sometimes for life—and instances are not

unfrequent of exemplary constancy and great

propriety of deportment.

What eloquent vituperations we should pour

forth, if the contending claims of nature and

pride produced such a tissue of contradictions

in some other country, and not in our own!

There is another Massachusetts law, which an

enlightened community would not probably

suffer to be carried into execution under any

circumstances; but it still remains to disgrace

the statutes of this Commonwealth.—It is as

follows:

“No African or Negro, other than a subject of the

Emperor of Morocco, or a citizen of the United

States, (proved so by a certificate of the

Secretary of the State of which he is a citizen,)

shall tarry within this Commonwealth longer

than two months; and on complaint a justice

shall order him to depart in ten days; and if he

do not then, the justice may commit such

African or Negro to the House of Correction,

there to be kept at hard labor; and at the next

term of the Court of C. P., he shall be tried, and

if convicted of remaining as aforesaid, shall be

whipped not exceeding ten lashes; and if he or

she shall not then depart such process shall be

repeated and punishment inflicted toties

quoties.” Stat. 1788, Ch. 54.

An honorable Haytian or Brazilian, who visited

this country for business or information, might

come under this law, unless public opinion

rendered it a mere dead letter.

There is among the colored people an increasing

desire for information, and a laudable ambition

to be respectable in manners and appearance.

Are we not foolish as well as sinful, in trying to

repress a tendency so salutary to themselves,

and so beneficial to the community? Several

individuals of this class are very desirous to

have persons of their own color qualified to

teach something more than mere reading and

writing. But in the public schools, colored

children are subject to many discouragements

and difficulties; and into the private schools

they cannot gain admission. A very sensible and

well-informed colored woman in a neighboring

town, whose family has been brought up in a

manner that excited universal remark and

approbation, has been extremely desirous to

obtain for her eldest daughter the advantages of

a private school; but she has been resolutely

repulsed, on account of her complexion. The girl

is a very light mulatto, with great modesty and

propriety of manners; perhaps no young person

in the Commonwealth was less likely to have a

bad influence on her associates. The clergyman

respected the family, and he remonstrated with

the instructor; but while the latter admitted the

injustice of the thing, he excused himself by

saying such a step would occasion the loss of all

his white scholars.

In a town adjoining Boston, a well-behaved

colored boy was kept out of the public school

more than a year, by vote of the trustees. His

mother, having some information herself, knew

the importance of knowledge, and was anxious

to obtain it for her family. She wrote repeatedly

and urgently; and the school-master himself

told me that the correctness of her spelling, and

the neatness of her hand-writing formed a

curious contrast with the notes he received from

many white parents. At last, this spirited

woman appeared before the committee, and

reminded them that her husband, having for

many years paid taxes as a citizen, had a right

to the privileges of a citizen; and if her claim

were refused, or longer postponed, she declared

her determination to seek justice from a higher

source. The trustees were, of course, obliged to

yield to the equality of the laws, with the best

grace they could. The boy was admitted, and

made good progress in his studies. Had his

mother been too ignorant to know her rights, or

too abject to demand them, the lad would have

had a fair chance to get a living out of the State

as the occupant of a workhouse, or penitentiary.

The attempt to establish a school for African

girls at Canterbury, Connecticut, has made too

much noise to need a detailed account in this

volume. I do not know the lady who first formed

the project, but I am told that she is a

benevolent and religious woman. It certainly is

difficult to imagine any other motives than good

ones, for an undertaking so arduous and

unpopular. Yet had the Pope himself attempted

to establish his supremacy over that

commonwealth, he could hardly have been

repelled with more determined and angry

resistance.—Town meetings were held, the

records of which are not highly creditable to the

parties concerned. Petitions were sent to the

Legislature, beseeching that no African school

might be allowed to admit individuals not

residing in the town where said school was

established; and strange to relate, this law,

which makes it impossible to collect a sufficient

number of pupils, was sanctioned by the State.

A colored girl, who availed herself of this

opportunity to gain instruction, was warned out

of town, and fined for not complying; and the

instructress was imprisoned for persevering in

her benevolent plan.

It is said, in excuse, that Canterbury will be

inundated with vicious characters, who will

corrupt the morals of the young men; that such

a school will break down the distinctions

between black and white; and that marriages

between people of different colors will be the

probable result. Yet they seem to assume the

ground that colored people must always be an

inferior and degraded class—that the prejudice

against them must be eternal; being deeply

founded in the laws of God and nature.—

Finally, they endeavored to represent the school

as one of the incendiary proceedings of the Anti-

Slavery Society; and they appeal to the

Colonization Society, as an aggrieved child is

wont to appeal to its parent.

The objection with regard to the introduction of

vicious characters into a village, certainly has

some force; but are such persons likely to leave

cities for a quiet country town, in search of

moral and intellectual improvement? Is it not

obvious that the best portion of the colored class

are the very ones to prize such an opportunity

for instruction? Grant that a large proportion of

these unfortunate people are vicious—is it not

our duty, and of course our wisest policy, to try

to make them otherwise? And what will so

effectually elevate their character and

condition, as knowledge? I beseech you, my

countrymen, think of these things wisely, and in

season.

As for intermarriages, if there be such a

repugnance between the two races, founded in

the laws of nature, me thinks there is small

reason to dread their frequency.

The breaking down of distinctions in society, by

means of extended information, is an objection

which appropriately belongs to the Emperor of

Austria, or the Sultan of Egypt.

I do not know how the affair at Canterbury is

generally considered; but I have heard

individuals of all parties and all opinions speak

of it—and never without merriment or

indignation. Fifty years hence, the black laws of

Connecticut will be a greater source of

amusement to the antiquarian, than her

famous blue laws.

A similar, though less violent opposition arose

in consequence of the attempt to establish a

college for colored people at New Haven. A

young colored man, who tried to obtain

education at the Wesleyan college in

Middletown, was obliged to relinquish the

attempt on account of the persecution of his

fellow students. Some collegians from the South

objected to a colored associate in their

recitations; and those from New England

promptly and zealously joined in the hue and

cry. A small but firm party were in favor of

giving the colored man a chance to pursue his

studies without insult or interruption; and I am

told that this manly and disinterested band

were all Southerners. As for those individuals,

who exerted their influence to exclude an

unoffending fellow-citizen from privileges

which ought to be equally open to all, it is to be

hoped that age will make them wiser-and that

they will learn, before they die, to be ashamed

of a step attended with more important results

than usually belong to youthful follies.

It happens that these experiments have all

been made in Connecticut; but it is no more

than justice to that State to remark that a

similar spirit would probably have been

manifested in Massachusetts, under like

circumstances. At our debating clubs and other

places of public discussion, the demon of

prejudice girds himself for the battle, the

moment negro colleges and high schools are

alluded to. Alas, while we carry on our lips that

religion which teaches us to “love our neighbor

as ourselves,” how little do we cherish its

blessed influence within our hearts! How much

republicanism we have to speak of, and how

little do we practise!

Let us seriously consider what injury a negro

college could possible do us. It is certainly a fair

presumption that the scholars would be from

the better portion of the colored population; and

it is an equally, fair presumption that

knowledge would improve their characters.

There are already many hundreds of colored

people in the city of Boston.—In the street they

generally appear neat and respectable; and in

our houses they do not “come between the wind

and our nobility.” Would the addition of one or

two hundred more even be perceived? As for

giving offence to the Southerners by allowing

such establishments—they have no right to

interfere with our internal concerns, any more

than we have with theirs.—Why should they

not give up slavery to please us, by the same

rule that we must refrain from educating the

negroes to please them? If they are at liberty to

do wrong, we certainly ought to be at liberty to

do right. They may talk and publish as much

about us as they please; and we ask for no other

influence over them.

It is a fact not generally known that the brave

Kosciusko left a fund for the establishment of a

negro college in the United States. Little did he

think he had been fighting for a people, who

would not grant one rood of their vast territory

for the benevolent purpose!

According to present appearances, a college for

colored persons will be established in Canada;

and thus, by means of our foolish and wicked

pride, the credit of this philanthropic enterprise

will be transferred to our mother country.

The preceding chapters show that it has been

no uncommon thing for colored men to be

educated at English, German, Portuguese and

Spanish Universities.

In Boston there is an Infant School, three

Primary Schools, and a Grammar School. The

two last, are I believe supported by the public;

and this fact is highly creditable. A building for

the colored Grammar School is not supplied by

the city, though such provision is always made

for similar institutions for white boys.—The

apartment is close and uncomfortable, and

many pupils stay away, who would gladly

attend under more convenient circumstances.

There ought likewise to be a colored teacher

instead of a white one. Under the dominion of

existing prejudices, it is difficult to find a white

man, well qualified to teach such a school, who

feels the interest he ought to feel, in these

Pariahs of our republic. The parents would

repose more confidence in a colored instructor;

and he, both from sympathy and pride, would

be better fitted for his task.

It is peculiarly incumbent on the city

authorities to supply a commodious building for

the colored grammar school, because public

prejudice excludes these oppressed people from

all lucrative employments, and they cannot

therefore be supposed to have ample funds of

their own.

I was much pleased with the late resolution

awarding Franklin medals to the colored pupils

of the grammar school; and I was still more

pleased with the laudable project, originated by

Josiah Holbrook, Esq. for the establishment of a

colored Lyceum. Surely a better spirit is

beginning to work in this cause; and when once

begun, the good sense and good feeling of the

community will bid it go on and prosper. How

much this spirit will have to contend with is

illustrated by the following fact. When

President Jackson entered this city, the white

children of all the schools were sent out in

uniform, to do him honor. A member of the

Committee proposed that the pupils of the

African schools should be invited likewise; but

he was the only one who voted for it. He then

proposed that the yeas and nays should be

recorded; upon which, most of the gentlemen

walked off, to prevent the question from being

taken. Perhaps they felt an awkward

consciousness of the incongeniality of such

proceedings with our republican institutions.

By order of the Committee the vacation of the

African schools did not commence until the day

after the procession of the white pupils; and a

note to the instructor intimated that the pupils

were not expected to appear on the Common.

The reason given was because “their numbers

were so few;” but in private conversation, fears

were expressed lest their sable faces should

give offence to our slave-holding President. In

all probability the sight of the colored children

would have been agreeable to General Jackson,

and seemed more like home, than anything he

witnessed.

In the theatre, it is not possible for respectable

colored people to obtain a decent seat. They must

either be excluded, or herd with the vicious.

A fierce excitement prevailed, not long since,

because a colored man had bought a pew in one

of our churches. I heard a very kindhearted and

zealous democrat declare his opinion that “the

fellow ought to be turned out by constables, if

he dared to occupy the pew he had purchased.”

Even at the communion-table, the mockery of

human pride is mingled with the worship of

Jehovah. Again and again have I seen a solitary

negro come up to the altar, meekly and timidly,

after all the white communicants had retired.

One Episcopal clergyman of this city, forms an

honorable exception to this remark. When there

is room at the altar, Mr——— often makes a

signal to the colored members of his church to

kneel beside their white brethren; and once,

when two white infants and one colored one

were to be baptized, and the parents of the

latter bashfully lingered far behind the others,

he silently rebuked the unchristian spirit of

pride, by first administering the holy ordinance

to the little dark-skinned child of God.

An instance of prejudice lately occurred, which

I should find it hard to believe, did I not

positively know it to be a fact. A gallery pew was

purchased in one of our churches for two

hundred dollars. A few Sabbaths after, an

address was delivered at that church, in favor of

the Africans. Some colored people, who very

naturally wished to hear the discourse, went

into the gallery; probably because they thought

they should be deemed less intrusive there than

elsewhere. The man who had recently bought a

pew, found it occupied by colored people, and

indignantly retired with his family. The next

day, he purchased a pew in another meetinghouse,

protesting that nothing would tempt him

again to make use of seats, that had been

occupied by negroes.

A well known country representative, who

makes a very loud noise about his democracy,

once attended the Catholic church. A pious

negro requested him to take off his hat, while

he stood in the presence of the Virgin Mary. The

white man rudely shoved him aside, saying,

“You son of an Ethiopian, do you dare to speak

to me!” I more than once heard the hero repeat

this story; and he seemed to take peculiar

satisfaction in telling it. Had he been less

ignorant, he would not have chosen “son of an

Ethiopian” as an ignoble epithet; to have called

the African his own equal would have been

abundantly more sarcastic. The same

republican dismissed a strong, industrious

colored man, who had been employed on the

farm during his absence. “I am too great a

democrat,” quoth he, “to have any body in my

house, who don’t sit at my table; and I’ll be

hanged, if I ever eat with the son of an

Ethiopian.”

Men whose education leaves them less excuse

for such illiberality, are yet vulgar enough to

join in this ridiculous prejudice. The colored

woman, whose daughter has been mentioned as

excluded from a private school, was once

smuggled into a stage, upon the supposition

that she was a white woman, with a sallow

complexion. Her manners were modest and

prepossessing, and the gentlemen were very

polite to her. But when she stopped at her own

door, and was handed out by her curly-headed

husband, they were at once surprised and angry

to find they had been riding with a mulatto—

and had, in their ignorance, been really civil to

her!

A worthy colored woman, belonging to an

adjoining town, wished to come into Boston to

attend upon a son, who was ill. She had a trunk

with her, and was too feeble to walk. She begged

permission to ride in the stage. But the

passengers with noble indignation, declared

they would get out, if she were allowed to get in.

After much entreaty, the driver suffered her to

sit by him upon the box. When he entered the

city, his comrades began to point and sneer. Not

having sufficient moral courage to endure this,

he left the poor woman, with her trunk, in the

middle of the street, far from the place of her

destination; telling her, with an oath, that he

would not carry her a step further.

A friend of mine lately wished to have a colored

girl admitted into the stage with her, to take

care of her babe. The girl was very lightly

tinged with the sable hue, had handsome

Indian features, and very pleasing manners. It

was, however, evident that she was not white;

and therefore the passengers objected to her

company. This of course, produced a good deal of

inconvenience on one side, and mortification on

the other. My friend repeated the circumstance

to a lady, who, as the daughter and wife of a

clergyman, might be supposed to have imbibed

some liberality. The lady seemed to think the

experiment was very preposterous; but when

my friend alluded to the mixed parentage of the

girl, she exclaimed, with generous enthusiasm,

“Oh, that alters the case, Indians certainly have

their rights . . . ”

1. Read the following sentence and select, from the choices below, the word closest in meaning

to the word in bold-faced type.

WHILE we bestow our earnest disapprobation on the system of slavery, let us not flatter

ourselves that we are in reality any better than our brethren of the South.

a. flattery
b. compliments
c. condemnation
d. approval

2. Read the following sentence and select, from the choices below, the word closest in meaning

to the word in bold-faced type.

Our prejudice against colored people is even more inveterate than it is at the South.

a. pervasive

b. inconsistent

c. fleeting

d. dangerous

3. According to the author, which of the following can seriously reduce the level of prejudice

among people?

a. punishment
b. counseling
c. personal experience and attitude
d. education and self-reflection

4. The author’s purpose in writing this piece is to

a. entertain the reader with anecdotes.
b. inform the readers about the extent of the prejudice against people of color.
c. persuade black Americans to rise up and fight for their rights.
d. convince the white population to be wary of the sympathy present in the North for black
Americans.

5. With which statement would the author agree?

a. The government should not be involved with matters involving relationships.
b. The laws are fair with respect to interracial marriage
c. Children of interracial marriage should not be made heirs to the white partner’s money.
d. Issues in relationships should be addressed by local legislature.

6. What does the term Quateroons describe?

a. an ethnic dish
b. a city in New Orleans
c. an ethnic group
d. a term of measurement

7. Which statement is the most accurate?

a. Black people who were not well-educated in regard to the laws were treated unjustly.
b. Black people who were not well-educated in respect to the law were protected by
government leaders.
c. White people in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts were all concerned with educating
black American children.
d. Black Americans had the same rights as white Americans in Massachusetts.

8. Read the following sentence and select, from the choices below, the word closest in meaning

to the word in bold-faced type.

I do not know the lady who first formed the project, but I am told that she is a benevolent

and religious woman.

a. meek
b. evil
c. pious
d. kind

9. “At our debating clubs and other places of public discussion, the demon of prejudice girds

himself for the battle . . . ”

Which literary element gives depth to this sentence?

a. personification
b. metaphor
c. simile
d. assonance

10. With which statement would the author agree?

a. New Englanders practiced what they preached in regard to equal rights.
b. New Englanders spoke about equal rights, but did not practice them.
c. Equal rights protection was a primary concern of Connecticut lawmakers during this
time period.
d. Black Americans in Connecticut had access to the same educational institutions as white
people.

11. In discussing a school for colored children, the parental consensus was that the instructors

should

a. have advanced learning degrees.
b. be white.
c. be black.
d. work for a stipend instead of a full salary.

12. When President Jackson visited the city, the white children were encouraged to attend his

speech, and the black children were discouraged from attending because

a. it was thought that President Jackson might be offended.
b. President Jackson was not at all interested in equal rights.
c. people feared a riot.
d. the community believed their presence would be a distraction.

13. What does the author mean when she says, “ . . . let us not flatter ourselves that we are in

reality any better than our brethren of the South”? How does she explain her thoughts?

14. Summarize Massachusetts Commonwealth, Statue 1788, chpt. 54. What was the author’s

comment on this law?

15. The North claimed to be tolerant and forward-thinking with respect to the rights of black

Americans; however, many situations were described which proved this to be untrue. Choose

one of the laws or situations and explain its intent.

16. What does this remark from the author imply to you?

“It is certainly a fair presumption that the scholars would be from the better portion of the
colored population . . . ”

Despite her apparent convictions, is there a hint of prejudice in it? Explain.

17. What is the author implying with her statement, “Men whose education leaves them less

excuse for such illiberality . . . ”?

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN
by Harriet Beecher Stowe

“Why, the fact is, Haley, Tom is an uncommon

fellow; he is certainly worth that sum

anywhere,—steady, honest, capable, manages

my whole farm like a clock.”

“You mean honest, as niggers go,” said Haley,

helping himself to a glass of brandy.

“No; I mean, really, Tom is a good, steady,

sensible, pious fellow. He got religion at a campmeeting,

four years ago; and I believe he really

did get it. I’ve trusted him, since then, with

everything I have,—money, house, horses,—and

let him come and go round the country; and I

always found him true and square in

everything.”

“Some folks don’t believe there is pious niggers

Shelby,” said Haley, with a candid flourish of his

hand, “but I do. I had a fellow, now, in this yer

last lot I took to Orleans—’t was as good as a

meetin, now, really, to hear that critter pray;

and he was quite gentle and quiet like. He

fetched me a good sum, too, for I bought him

cheap of a man that was ‘bliged to sell out; so I

realized six hundred on him. Yes, I consider

religion a valeyable thing in a nigger, when it’s

the genuine article, and no mistake.”

“Well, Tom’s got the real article, if ever a fellow

had,” rejoined the other. “Why, last fall, I let

him go to Cincinnati alone, to do business for

me, and bring home five hundred dollars. ‘Tom,’

says I to him, ‘I trust you, because I think you’re

a Christian—I know you wouldn’t cheat.’ Tom

comes back, sure enough; I knew he would.

Some low fellows, they say, said to him—Tom,

why don’t you make tracks for Canada?’ ‘Ah,

master trusted me, and I couldn’t,’—they told

me about it. I am sorry to part with Tom, I must

say. You ought to let him cover the whole

balance of the debt; and you would, Haley, if you

had any conscience.”

“Well, I’ve got just as much conscience as any

man in business can afford to keep,—just a

little, you know, to swear by, as ‘t were,” said the

trader, jocularly; “and, then, I’m ready to do

anything in reason to ‘blige friends; but this yer,

you see, is a leetle too hard on a fellow—a leetle

too hard.” The trader sighed contemplatively,

and poured out some more brandy.

“Well, then, Haley, how will you trade?” said Mr.

Shelby, after an uneasy interval of silence.

“Well, haven’t you a boy or gal that you could

throw in with Tom?”

“Hum!—none that I could well spare; to tell the

truth, it’s only hard necessity makes me willing

to sell at all. I don’t like parting with any of my

hands, that’s a fact.”

Here the door opened, and a small quadroon boy,

between four and five years of age, entered the

room. There was something in his appearance

remarkably beautiful and engaging. His black

hair, fine as floss silk, hung in glossy curls about

his round, dimpled face, while a pair of large

dark eyes, full of fire and softness, looked out

from beneath the rich, long lashes, as he peered

curiously into the apartment. A gay robe of

scarlet and yellow plaid, carefully made and

neatly fitted, set off to advantage the dark and

rich style of his beauty; and a certain comic air

of assurance, blended with bashfulness, showed

that he had been not unused to being petted and

noticed by his master.

“Hulloa, Jim Crow!” said Mr. Shelby, whistling,

and snapping a bunch of raisins towards him,

“pick that up, now!”

The child scampered, with all his little

strength, after the prize, while his master

laughed.

“Come here, Jim Crow,” said he. The child came

up, and the master patted the curly head, and

chucked him under the chin.

“Now, Jim, show this gentleman how you can

dance and sing.” The boy commenced one of

those wild, grotesque songs common among the

negroes, in a rich, clear voice, accompanying his

singing with many comic evolutions of the

hands, feet, and whole body, all in perfect time

to the music.

“Bravo!” said Haley, throwing him a quarter of

an orange.

“Now, Jim, walk like old Uncle Cudjoe, when he

has the rheumatism,” said his master.

Instantly the flexible limbs of the child assumed

the appearance of deformity and distortion, as,

with his back humped up, and his master’s stick

in his hand, he hobbled about the room, his

childish face drawn into a doleful pucker, and

spitting from right to left, in imitation of an old

man.

Both gentlemen laughed uproariously.

“Now, Jim,” said his master, “show us how old

Elder Robbins leads the psalm.” The boy drew

his chubby face down to a formidable length,

and commenced toning a psalm tune through

his nose, with imperturbable gravity.

“Hurrah! bravo! what a young ‘un!” said Haley;

“that chap’s a case, I’ll promise. Tell you what,”

said he, suddenly clapping his hand on Mr.

Shelby’s shoulder, “fling in that chap, and I’ll

settle the business—I will. Come, now, if that

ain’t doing the thing up about the rightest!”

At this moment, the door was pushed gently

open, and a young quadroon woman, apparently

about twenty-five, entered the room.

There needed only a glance from the child to

her, to identify her as its mother. There was the

same rich, full, dark eye, with its long lashes;

the same ripples of silky black hair. The brown

of her complexion gave way on the cheek to a

perceptible flush, which deepened as she saw

the gaze of the strange man fixed upon her in

bold and undisguised admiration. Her dress

was of the neatest possible fit, and set off to

advantage her finely moulded shape;—a

delicately formed hand and a trim foot and

ankle were items of appearance that did not

escape the quick eye of the trader, well used to

run up at a glance the points of a fine female

article.

“Well, Eliza?” said her master, as she stopped

and looked hesitatingly at him.

“I was looking for Harry, please, sir;” and the

boy bounded toward her, showing his spoils,

which he had gathered in the skirt of his robe.

“Well, take him away then,” said Mr. Shelby;

and hastily she withdrew, carrying the child on

her arm.

“By Jupiter,” said the trader, turning to him in

admiration, “there’s an article, now! You might

make your fortune on that ar gal in Orleans,

any day. I’ve seen over a thousand, in my day,

paid down for gals not a bit handsomer.”

“I don’t want to make my fortune on her,” said

Mr. Shelby, dryly; and, seeking to turn the

conversation, he uncorked a bottle of fresh

wine, and asked his companion’s opinion of it.

“Capital, sir,—first chop!” said the trader; then

turning, and slapping his hand familiarly on

Shelby’s shoulder, he added—

“Come, how will you trade about the gal?—what

shall I say for her—what’ll you take?”

“Mr. Haley, she is not to be sold,” said Shelby.

“My wife would not part with her for her weight

in gold.”

“Ay, ay! women always say such things, cause

they ha’nt no sort of calculation. Just show ‘em

how many watches, feathers, and trinkets, one’s

weight in gold would buy, and that alters the

case, I reckon.”

“I tell you, Haley, this must not be spoken of; I

say no, and I mean no,” said Shelby, decidedly.

“Well, you’ll let me have the boy, though,” said

the trader; “you must own I’ve come down

pretty handsomely for him.”

“What on earth can you want with the child?”

said Shelby.

“Why, I’ve got a friend that’s going into this yer

branch of the business—wants to buy up

handsome boys to raise for the market. Fancy

articles entirely—sell for waiters, and so on, to

rich ‘uns, that can pay for handsome ‘uns. It

sets off one of yer great places—a real

handsome boy to open door, wait, and tend.

They fetch a good sum; and this little devil is

such a comical, musical concern, he’s just the

article!’

“I would rather not sell him,” said Mr. Shelby,

thoughtfully; “the fact is, sir, I’m a humane

man, and I hate to take the boy from his

mother, sir.”

“O, you do?—La! yes—something of that ar

natur. I understand, perfectly. It is mighty

onpleasant getting on with women, sometimes,

I al’ays hates these yer screechin,’ screamin’

times. They are mighty onpleasant; but, as I

manages business, I generally avoids ‘em, sir.

Now, what if you get the girl off for a day, or a

week, or so; then the thing’s done quietly,—all

over before she comes home. Your wife might

get her some ear-rings, or a new gown, or some

such truck, to make up with her.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Lor bless ye, yes! These critters ain’t like white

folks, you know; they gets over things, only

manage right. Now, they say,” said Haley,

assuming a candid and confidential air, “that

this kind o’ trade is hardening to the feelings;

but I never found it so. Fact is, I never could do

things up the way some fellers manage the

business. I’ve seen ‘em as would pull a woman’s

child out of her arms, and set him up to sell, and

she screechin’ like mad all the time;—very bad

policy—damages the article—makes ‘em quite

unfit for service sometimes. I knew a real

handsome gal once, in Orleans, as was entirely

ruined by this sort o’ handling. The fellow that

was trading for her didn’t want her baby; and

she was one of your real high sort, when her

blood was up. I tell you, she squeezed up her

child in her arms, and talked, and went on real

awful. It kinder makes my blood run cold to

think of ‘t; and when they carried off the child,

and locked her up, she jest went ravin’ mad, and

died in a week. Clear waste, sir, of a thousand

dollars, just for want of management,—there’s

where ‘t is. It’s always best to do the humane

thing, sir; that’s been my experience.” And the

trader leaned back in his chair, and folded his

arm, with an air of virtuous decision,

apparently considering himself a second

Wilberforce.

1. Read the following sentence and select, from the choices below, the word closest in meaning

to the word in bold-faced type.

“No; I mean, really, Tom is a good, steady, sensible, pious fellow. . . . ”

a. honest
b. devout
c. intelligent
d. trustworthy

2. Read the following sentence and select, from the choices below, the word closest in meaning

to the word in bold-faced type.

The boy drew his chubby face down to a formidable length . . .

a. impressive
b. peculiar
c. unexpected
d. predictable

3. The character called Haley is a

a. blacksmith.
b. lawyer.
c. slave trader.
d. plantation owner.

4. What example does Tom’s owner give as proof that Tom is a trustworthy man?

5. Describe the quadroon boy who entered the room while the men were talking.

6. How did the gentlemen treat the young boy? What did they ask him to do?

7. Interpret the following quote. What can you tell about the man who said it?

“Lor bless ye, yes! These critters ain’t like white folks, you know; they gets over things, only
manage right. . . . ”

8. Who is the more humane man, Shelby or Haley? Why?

INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE
OF A SLAVE GIRL
by Harriet Jacobs (aka. Linda Brent)

V. The Trials Of Girlhood.

During the first years of my service in Dr.

Flint’s family, I was accustomed to share some

indulgences with the children of my mistress.

Though this seemed to me no more than right, I

was grateful for it, and tried to merit the

kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties.

But I now entered on my fifteenth year—a sad

epoch in the life of a slave girl. My master

began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as

I was, I could not remain ignorant of their

import. I tried to treat them with indifference or

contempt. The master’s age, my extreme youth,

and the fear that his conduct would be reported

to my grandmother, made him bear this

treatment for many months. He was a crafty

man, and resorted to many means to

accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had

stormy, terrific ways, that made his victims

tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness

that he thought must surely subdue. Of the two,

I preferred his stormy moods, although they left

me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt

the pure principles my grandmother had

instilled. He peopled my young mind with

unclean images, such as only a vile monster

could think of. I turned from him with disgust

and hatred. But he was my master. I was

compelled to live under the same roof with

him—where I saw a man forty years my senior

daily violating the most sacred commandments

of nature. He told me I was his property; that I

must be subject to his will in all things. My soul

revolted against the mean tyranny. But where

could I turn for protection? No matter whether

the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as

her mistress. In either case, there is no shadow

of law to protect her from insult, from violence,

or even from death; all these are inflicted by

fiends who bear the shape of men. The mistress,

who ought to protect the helpless victim, has no

other feelings towards her but those of jealousy

and rage. The degradation, the wrongs, the

vices, that grow out of slavery, are more than I

can describe. They are greater than you would

willingly believe. Surely, if you credited one half

the truths that are told you concerning the

helpless millions suffering in this cruel

bondage, you at the north would not help to

tighten the yoke. You surely would refuse to do

for the master, on your own soil, the mean and

cruel work which trained bloodhounds and the

lowest class of whites do for him at the south.

Every where the years bring to all enough of sin

and sorrow; but in slavery the very dawn of life

is darkened by these shadows. Even the little

child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress

and her children, will learn, before she is twelve

years old, why it is that her mistress hates such

and such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the

child’s own mother is among those hated ones.

She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous

passion, and cannot help understanding what is

the cause. She will become prematurely

knowing in evil things. Soon she will learn to

tremble when she hears her master’s footfall.

She will be compelled to realize that she is no

longer a child. If God has bestowed beauty upon

her, it will prove her greatest curse. That which

commands admiration in the white woman only

hastens the degradation of the female slave. I

know that some are too much brutalized by

slavery to feel the humiliation of their position;

but many slaves feel it most acutely, and shrink

from the memory of it. I cannot tell how much I

suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor

how I am still pained by the retrospect. My

master met me at every turn, reminding me

that I belonged to him, and swearing by heaven

and earth that he would compel me to submit to

him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after

a day of unwearied toil, his footsteps dogged

me. If I knelt by my mother’s grave, his dark

shadow fell on me even there. The light heart

which nature had given me became heavy with

sad forebodings. The other slaves in my

master’s house noticed the change. Many of

them pitied me; but none dared to ask the

cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew

too well the guilty practices under that roof; and

they were aware that to speak of them was an

offence that never went unpunished.

I longed for some one to confide in. I would have

given the world to have laid my head on my

grandmother’s faithful bosom, and told her all

my troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill

me, if I was not as silent as the grave. Then,

although my grandmother was all in all to me,

I feared her as well as loved her. I had been

accustomed to look up to her with a respect

bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt

shamefaced about telling her such impure

things, especially as I knew her to be very strict

on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman of

a high spirit. She was usually very quiet in her

demeanor; but if her indignation was once

roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had

been told that she once chased a white

gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he

insulted one of her daughters. I dreaded the

consequences of a violent outbreak; and both

pride and fear kept me silent. But though I did

not confide in my grandmother, and even

evaded her vigilant watchfulness and inquiry,

her presence in the neighborhood was some

protection to me. Though she had been a slave,

Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her

scorching rebukes. Moreover, she was known

and patronized by many people; and he did not

wish to have his villany made public. It was

lucky for me that I did not live on a distant

plantation, but in a town not so large that the

inhabitants were ignorant of each other’s

affairs. Bad as are the laws and customs in a

slaveholding community, the doctor, as a

professional man, deemed it prudent to keep up

some outward show of decency.

O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that

man caused me! Reader, it is not to awaken

sympathy for myself that I am telling you

truthfully what I suffered in slavery. I do it to

kindle a flame of compassion in your hearts for

my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as

I once suffered.

I once saw two beautiful children playing

together. One was a fair white child; the other

was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw

them embracing each other, and heard their

joyous laughter, I turned sadly away from the

lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that

would fall on the little slave’s heart. I knew how

soon her laughter would be changed to sighs.

The fair child grew up to be a still fairer woman.

From childhood to womanhood her pathway

was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a

sunny sky. Scarcely one day of her life had been

clouded when the sun rose on her happy bridal

morning.

How had those years dealt with her slave sister,

the little playmate of her childhood? She, also,

was very beautiful; but the flowers and

sunshine of love were not for her. She drank the

cup of sin, and shame, and misery, whereof her

persecuted race are compelled to drink.

In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye

free men and women of the north? Why do your

tongues falter in maintenance of the right?

Would that I had more ability! But my heart is

so full, and my pen is so weak! There are noble

men and women who plead for us, striving to

help those who cannot help themselves. God

bless them! God give them strength and

courage to go on! God bless those, every where,

who are laboring to advance the cause of

humanity!

1. Read the following sentence and elect, from the choice below, the word closest in meaning to

the word in bold-faced type.

The degradation, the wrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, are more than I can

describe.

a. sorrow
b. fear
c. humiliation
d. sorrow

2. To what does the author compare the southern slave owners?

a. bloodhounds
b. jackals
c. royalty
d. pirates

3. Which of the literary techniques shown below is found in the following sentence?

But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent as the grave.

a. hyperbole
b. metaphor
c. irony
d. simile

4. With which statement would the author agree?

a. Living in a large community worked to her advantage.
b. Living in a small community offered her some protection against the tyranny of her
master.
c. Black women were treated well overall, with the exception of a few unique situations.
d. White people should not get involved in the relationships between slave women and
their masters.

5. What is the author trying to tell the reader when she speaks of a slave girl and says, “She

will become prematurely knowing in evil things”? In other words, what are the “evil things”

of which she speaks?

6. Read the following sentences from the passage:

They had no need to inquire. They knew too well the guilty practices under that roof; and they

were aware that to speak of them was an offence that never went unpunished.

What does it tell you about the severity of this problem? Was there a way for others to help

the girls and women? Explain your ideas.

7. Describe the personality of the author’s grandmother. Despite the fact that she, too, was a

slave, she seemed to have more power to influence the master’s actions than the other slaves.

Why?

8. Was there a purpose to this piece? Describe it. What was the author trying to accomplish?

OUR NIG
by Harriet E. Wilson

Frado was called early in the morning by her

new mistress. Her first work was to feed the

hens. She was shown how it was ALWAYS to be

done, and in no other way; any departure from

this rule to be punished by a whipping. She was

then accompanied by Jack to drive the cows to

pasture, so she might learn the way. Upon her

return she was allowed to eat her breakfast,

consisting of a bowl of skimmed milk, with

brown bread crusts, which she was told to eat,

standing, by the kitchen table, and must not be

over ten minutes about it. Meanwhile the

family were taking their morning meal in the

dining-room. This over, she was placed on a

cricket to wash the common dishes; she was to

be in waiting always to bring wood and chips, to

run hither and thither from room to room.

A large amount of dish-washing for small hands

followed dinner. Then the same after tea and

going after the cows finished her first day’s

work. It was a new discipline to the child. She

found some attractions about the place, and she

retired to rest at night more willing to remain.

The same routine followed day after day, with

slight variation; adding a little more work, and

spicing the toil with “words that burn,” and

frequent blows on her head. These were great

annoyances to Frado, and had she known where

her mother was, she would have gone at once to

her. She was often greatly wearied, and silently

wept over her sad fate. At first she wept aloud,

which Mrs. Bellmont noticed by applying a

rawhide, always at hand in the kitchen. It was

a symptom of discontent and complaining

which must be “nipped in the bud,” she said.

Thus passed a year. No intelligence of Mag. It

was now certain Frado was to become a

permanent member of the family. Her labors

were multiplied; she was quite indispensable,

although but seven years old. She had never

learned to read, never heard of a school until

her residence in the family.

Mrs. Bellmont was in doubt about the utility of

attempting to educate people of color, who were

incapable of elevation. This subject occasioned

a lengthy discussion in the family. Mr.

Bellmont, Jane and Jack arguing for Frado’s

education; Mary and her mother objecting. At

last Mr. Bellmont declared decisively that she

SHOULD go to school. He was a man who

seldom decided controversies at home. The

word once spoken admitted of no appeal; so,

notwithstanding Mary’s objection that she

would have to attend the same school she did,

the word became law.

It was to be a new scene to Frado, and Jack had

many queries and conjectures to answer. He

was himself too far advanced to attend the

summer school, which Frado regretted, having

had too many opportunities of witnessing Miss

Mary’s temper to feel safe in her company

alone.

The opening day of school came. Frado

sauntered on far in the rear of Mary, who was

ashamed to be seen “walking with a nigger.” As

soon as she appeared, with scanty clothing and

bared feet, the children assembled, noisily

published her approach: “See that nigger,”

shouted one. “Look! look!” cried another. “I

won’t play with her,” said one little girl. “Nor I

neither,” replied another.

Mary evidently relished these sharp attacks,

and saw a fair prospect of lowering Nig where,

according to her views, she belonged. Poor

Frado, chagrined and grieved, felt that her

anticipations of pleasure at such a place were

far from being realized. She was just deciding

to return home, and never come there again,

when the teacher appeared, and observing the

downcast looks of the child, took her by the

hand, and led her into the school-room. All

followed, and, after the bustle of securing seats

was over, Miss Marsh inquired if the children

knew “any cause for the sorrow of that little

girl?” pointing to Frado. It was soon all told.

She then reminded them of their duties to the

poor and friendless; their cowardice in

attacking a young innocent child; referred them

to one who looks not on outward appearances,

but on the heart. “She looks like a good girl; I

think I shall love her, so lay aside all prejudice,

and vie with each other in shewing kindness

and good-will to one who seems different from

you,” were the closing remarks of the kind lady.

Those kind words! The most agreeable sound

which ever meets the ear of sorrowing, grieving

childhood.

Example rendered her words efficacious. Day

by day there was a manifest change of

deportment towards “Nig.” Her speeches often

drew merriment from the children; no one could

do more to enliven their favorite pastimes than

Frado. Mary could not endure to see her thus

noticed, yet knew not how to prevent it. She

could not influence her schoolmates as she

wished. She had not gained their affections by

winning ways and yielding points of

controversy. On the contrary, she was selfwilled,

domineering; every day reported “mad”

by some of her companions. She availed herself

of the only alternative, abuse and taunts, as

they returned from school. This was not

satisfactory; she wanted to use physical force

“to subdue her,” to “keep her down.”

There was, on their way home, a field

intersected by a stream over which a single

plank was placed for a crossing. It occurred to

Mary that it would be a punishment to Nig to

compel her to cross over; so she dragged her to

the edge, and told her authoritatively to go over.

Nig hesitated, resisted. Mary placed herself

behind the child, and, in the struggle to force

her over, lost her footing and plunged into the

stream. Some of the larger scholars being in

sight, ran, and thus prevented Mary from

drowning and Frado from falling. Nig

scampered home fast as possible, and Mary

went to the nearest house, dripping, to procure

a change of garments. She came loitering

home, half crying, exclaiming, “Nig pushed me

into the stream!” She then related the

particulars. Nig was called from the kitchen.

Mary stood with anger flashing in her eyes. Mr.

Bellmont sat quietly reading his paper. He had

witnessed too many of Miss Mary’s outbreaks to

be startled. Mrs. Bellmont interrogated Nig.

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!” answered Nig,

passionately, and then related the occurrence

truthfully.

The discrepancy greatly enraged Mrs.

Bellmont. With loud accusations and angry

gestures she approached the child. Turning to

her husband, she asked,

“Will you sit still, there, and hear that black

nigger call Mary a liar?”

“How do we know but she has told the truth? I

shall not punish her,” he replied, and left the

house, as he usually did when a tempest

threatened to envelop him. No sooner was he

out of sight than Mrs. B. and Mary commenced

beating her inhumanly; then propping her

mouth open with a piece of wood, shut her up in

a dark room, without any supper. For

employment, while the tempest raged within,

Mr. Bellmont went for the cows, a task

belonging to Frado, and thus unintentionally

prolonged her pain. At dark Jack came in, and

seeing Mary, accosted her with, “So you thought

you’d vent your spite on Nig, did you? Why

can’t you let her alone? It was good enough for

you to get a ducking, only you did not stay in

half long enough.”

“Stop!” said his mother. “You shall never talk so

before me. You would have that little nigger

trample on Mary, would you? She came home

with a lie; it made Mary’s story false.”

“What was Mary’s story?” asked Jack.

It was related.

“Now,” said Jack, sallying into a chair, “the

school-children happened to see it all, and they

tell the same story Nig does. Which is most

likely to be true, what a dozen agree they saw,

or the contrary?”

“It is very strange you will believe what others

say against your sister,” retorted his mother,

with flashing eye. “I think it is time your father

subdued you.”

“Father is a sensible man,” argued Jack. “He

would not wrong a dog. Where IS Frado?” he

continued.

“Mother gave her a good whipping and shut her

up,” replied Mary.

Just then Mr. Bellmont entered, and asked if

Frado was “shut up yet.”

The knowledge of her innocence, the perfidy of

his sister, worked fearfully on Jack. He

bounded from his chair, searched every room till

he found the child; her mouth wedged apart,

her face swollen, and full of pain.

How Jack pitied her! He relieved her jaws,

brought her some supper, took her to her room,

comforted her as well as he knew how, sat by

her till she fell asleep, and then left for the

sitting room. As he passed his mother, he

remarked, “If that was the way Frado was to be

treated, he hoped she would never wake again!”

He then imparted her situation to his father,

who seemed untouched, till a glance at Jack

exposed a tearful eye. Jack went early to her

next morning. She awoke sad, but refreshed.

After breakfast Jack took her with him to the

field, and kept her through the day. But it could

not be so generally. She must return to school,

to her household duties. He resolved to do what

he could to protect her from Mary and his

mother.

1. Read the following sentence and select, from the choices below, the word closest in meaning

to the word in bold-faced type.

Her labors were multiplied; she was quite indispensable, although but seven years old.

a. necessary
b. unnecessary
c. troublesome
d. efficient

2. Read the following sentence and select, from the choices below, the word closest in meaning

to the word in bold-faced type.

Example rendered her words efficacious.

a. useless
b. superfluous
c. productive
d. harmful

3. With which statement would the author agree?

a. Jack was a devious and spiteful boy.
b. Mary was a selfish and vicious girl.
c. Jack created a situation so that “Nig” would hurt herself.
d. Mary believed in equal rights for all people.

4. What can you interpret about “Nig’s” treatment at the hands of Mrs. Bellmont from the

following quote?

At first she wept aloud, which Mrs. Bellmont noticed by applying a rawhide, always at hand

in the kitchen.

5. A phrase from the story referred to Nig as being “incapable of elevation.” What does the

speaker mean? Was this a common belief? How do you feel about this?

6. Describe the initial treatment of Nig by her classmates. What changed their attitudes?

7. Contrast the attitudes of Mr. and Mrs. Bellmont. Use a quote from each to support what you

are saying.

THE NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS
by Frederick Douglass

CHAPTER X

. . . I lived with Mr. Covey one year. During the

first six months, of that year, scarce a week

passed without his whipping me. I was seldom

free from a sore back. My awkwardness was

almost always his excuse for whipping me. We

were worked fully up to the point of endurance.

Long before day we were up, our horses fed, and

by the first approach of day we were off to the

field with our hoes and ploughing teams. Mr.

Covey gave us enough to eat, but scarce time to

eat it. We were often less than five minutes

taking our meals. We were often in the field from

the first approach of day till its last lingering ray

had left us; and at saving-fodder time, midnight

often caught us in the field binding blades . . .

The facts in the case are these: Mr. Covey was a

poor man; he was just commencing in life; he

was only able to buy one slave; and, shocking as

is the fact, he bought her, as he said, for A

BREEDER. This woman was named Caroline.

Mr. Covey bought her from Mr. Thomas Lowe,

about six miles from St. Michael’s. She was a

large, able-bodied woman, about twenty years

old. She had already given birth to one child,

which proved her to be just what he wanted.

After buying her, he hired a married man of Mr.

Samuel Harrison, to live with him one year; and

him he used to fasten up with her every night!

The result was, that, at the end of the year, the

miserable woman gave birth to twins. At this

result Mr. Covey seemed to be highly pleased,

both with the man and the wretched woman.

Such was his joy, and that of his wife, that

nothing they could do for Caroline during her

confinement was too good, or too hard, to be

done. The children were regarded as being quite

an addition to his wealth.

If at any one time of my life more than another,

I was made to drink the bitterest dregs of

slavery, that time was during the first six

months of my stay with Mr. Covey. We were

worked in all weathers. It was never too hot or

too cold; it could never rain, blow, hail, or snow,

too hard for us to work in the field. Work, work,

work, was scarcely more the order of the day

than of the night. The longest days were too

short for him, and the shortest nights too long

for him. I was somewhat unmanageable when I

first went there, but a few months of this

discipline tamed me. Mr. Covey succeeded in

breaking me. I was broken in body, soul, and

spirit. My natural elasticity was crushed, my

intellect languished, the disposition to read

departed, the cheerful spark that lingered

about my eye died; the dark night of slavery

closed in upon me; and behold a man

transformed into a brute! . . .

I have already intimated that my condition was

much worse, during the first six months of my

stay at Mr. Covey’s, than in the last six. The

circumstances leading to the change in Mr.

Covey’s course toward me form an epoch in my

humble history. You have seen how a man was

made a slave; you shall see how a slave was

made a man. On one of the hottest days of the

month of August, 1833, Bill Smith, William

Hughes, a slave named Eli, and myself, were

engaged in fanning wheat. Hughes was clearing

the fanned wheat from before the fan. Eli was

turning, Smith was feeding, and I was carrying

wheat to the fan. The work was simple,

requiring strength rather than intellect; yet, to

one entirely unused to such work, it came very

hard. About three o’clock of that day, I broke

down; my strength failed me; I was seized with

a violent aching of the head, attended with

extreme dizziness; I trembled in every limb.

Finding what was coming, I nerved myself up,

feeling it would never do to stop work. I stood as

long as I could stagger to the hopper with grain.

When I could stand no longer, I fell, and felt as

if held down by an immense weight. The fan of

course stopped; every one had his own work to

do; and no one could do the work of the other,

and have his own go on at the same time.

Mr. Covey was at the house, about one hundred

yards from the treading-yard where we were

fanning. On hearing the fan stop, he left

immediately, and came to the spot where we

were. He hastily inquired what the matter was.

Bill answered that I was sick, and there was no

one to bring wheat to the fan. I had by this time

crawled away under the side of the post and

rail-fence by which the yard was enclosed,

hoping to find relief by getting out of the sun.

He then asked where I was. He was told by one

of the hands. He came to the spot, and, after

looking at me awhile, asked me what was the

matter. I told him as well as I could, for I scarce

had strength to speak. He then gave me a

savage kick in the side, and told me to get up. I

tried to do so, but fell back in the attempt. He

gave me another kick, and again told me to rise.

I again tried, and succeeded in gaining my feet;

but, stooping to get the tub with which I was

feeding the fan, I again staggered and fell.

While down in this situation, Mr. Covey took up

the hickory slat with which Hughes had been

striking off the half-bushel measure, and with it

gave me a heavy blow upon the head, making a

large wound, and the blood ran freely; and with

this again told me to get up. I made no effort to

comply, having now made up my mind to let

him do his worst. In a short time after receiving

this blow, my head grew better. Mr. Covey had

now left me to my fate. At this moment I

resolved, for the first time, to go to my master,

enter a complaint, and ask his protection. In

order to do this, I must that afternoon walk

seven miles; and this, under the circumstances,

was truly a severe undertaking. I was

exceedingly feeble; made so as much by the

kicks and blows which I received, as by the

severe fit of sickness to which I had been

subjected. I, however, watched my chance,

while Covey was looking in an opposite

direction, and started for St. Michael’s. I

succeeded in getting a considerable distance on

my way to the woods, when Covey discovered

me, and called after me to come back,

threatening what he would do if I did not come.

I disregarded both his calls and his threats, and

made my way to the woods as fast as my feeble

state would allow; and thinking I might be

overhauled by him if I kept the road, I walked

through the woods, keeping far enough from the

road to avoid detection, and near enough to

prevent losing my way. I had not gone far before

my little strength again failed me. I could go no

farther. I fell down, and lay for a considerable

time. The blood was yet oozing from the wound

on my head. For a time I thought I should bleed

to death; and think now that I should have done

so, but that the blood so matted my hair as to

stop the wound. After lying there about three

quarters of an hour, I nerved myself up again,

and started on my way, through bogs and

briers, barefooted and bareheaded, tearing my

feet sometimes at nearly every step; and after a

journey of about seven miles, occupying some

five hours to perform it, I arrived at master’s

store. I then presented an appearance enough

to affect any but a heart of iron. From the crown

of my head to my feet, I was covered with blood.

My hair was all clotted with dust and blood; my

shirt was stiff with blood. I suppose I looked like

a man who had escaped a den of wild beasts,

and barely escaped them. In this state I

appeared before my master, humbly entreating

him to interpose his authority for my

protection. I told him all the circumstances as

well as I could, and it seemed, as I spoke, at

times to affect him. He would then walk the

floor, and seek to justify Covey by saying he

expected I deserved it. He asked me what I

wanted. I told him, to let me get a new home;

that as sure as I lived with Mr. Covey again, I

should live with but to die with him; that Covey

would surely kill me; he was in a fair way for it.

Master Thomas ridiculed the idea that there

was any danger of Mr. Covey’s killing me, and

said that he knew Mr. Covey; that he was a good

man, and that he could not think of taking me

from him; that, should he do so, he would lose

the whole year’s wages; that I belonged to Mr.

Covey for one year, and that I must go back to

him, come what might; and that I must not

trouble him with any more stories, or that he

would himself GET HOLD OF ME. After

threatening me thus, he gave me a very large

dose of salts, telling me that I might remain in

St. Michael’s that night, (it being quite late,)

but that I must be off back to Mr. Covey’s early

in the morning; and that if I did not, he would

get hold of me, which meant that he would whip

me. I remained all night, and, according to his

orders, I started off to Covey’s in the morning,

(Saturday morning,) wearied in body and

broken in spirit. I got no supper that night, or

breakfast that morning. I reached Covey’s

about nine o’clock; and just as I was getting

over the fence that divided Mrs. Kemp’s fields

from ours, out ran Covey with his cowskin, to

give me another whipping. Before he could

reach me, I succeeded in getting to the

cornfield; and as the corn was very high, it

afforded me the means of hiding. He seemed

very angry, and searched for me a long time. My

behavior was altogether unaccountable. He

finally gave up the chase, thinking, I suppose,

that I must come home for something to eat; he

would give himself no further trouble in looking

for me. I spent that day mostly in the woods,

having the alternative before me,—to go home

and be whipped to death, or stay in the woods

and be starved to death. That night, I fell in

with Sandy Jenkins, a slave with whom I was

somewhat acquainted. Sandy had a free wife

who lived about four miles from Mr. Covey’s;

and it being Saturday, he was on his way to see

her. I told him my circumstances, and he very

kindly invited me to go home with him. I went

home with him, and talked this whole matter

over, and got his advice as to what course it was

best for me to pursue. I found Sandy an old

adviser. He told me, with great solemnity, I

must go back to Covey; but that before I went, I

must go with him into another part of the

woods, where there was a certain root, which, if

I would take some of it with me, carrying it

always on my right side, would render it

impossible for Mr. Covey, or any other white

man, to whip me. He said he had carried it for

years; and since he had done so, he had never

received a blow, and never expected to while he

carried it. I at first rejected the idea, that the

simple carrying of a root in my pocket would

have any such effect as he had said, and was not

disposed to take it; but Sandy impressed the

necessity with much earnestness, telling me it

could do no harm, if it did no good. To please

him, I at length took the root, and, according to

his direction, carried it upon my right side. This

was Sunday morning. I immediately started for

home; and upon entering the yard gate, out

came Mr. Covey on his way to meeting. He

spoke to me very kindly, bade me drive the pigs

from a lot near by, and passed on towards the

church. Now, this singular conduct of Mr. Covey

really made me begin to think that there was

something in the ROOT which Sandy had given

me; and had it been on any other day than

Sunday, I could have attributed the conduct to

no other cause than the influence of that root;

and as it was, I was half inclined to think the

root to be something more than I at first had

taken it to be. All went well till Monday

morning. On this morning, the virtue of the

ROOT was fully tested. Long before daylight, I

was called to go and rub, curry, and feed, the

horses. I obeyed, and was glad to obey. But

whilst thus engaged, whilst in the act of

throwing down some blades from the loft, Mr.

Covey entered the stable with a long rope; and

just as I was half out of the loft, he caught hold

of my legs, and was about tying me. As soon as

I found what he was up to, I gave a sudden

spring, and as I did so, he holding to my legs, I

was brought sprawling on the stable floor. Mr.

Covey seemed now to think he had me, and

could do what he pleased; but at this moment—

from whence came the spirit I don’t know—I

resolved to fight; and, suiting my action to the

resolution, I seized Covey hard by the throat;

and as I did so, I rose. He held on to me, and I

to him. My resistance was so entirely

unexpected that Covey seemed taken all aback.

He trembled like a leaf. This gave me

assurance, and I held him uneasy, causing the

blood to run where I touched him with the ends

of my fingers. Mr. Covey soon called out to

Hughes for help. Hughes came, and, while

Covey held me, attempted to tie my right hand.

While he was in the act of doing so, I watched

my chance, and gave him a heavy kick close

under the ribs. This kick fairly sickened

Hughes, so that he left me in the hands of Mr.

Covey. This kick had the effect of not only

weakening Hughes, but Covey also. When he

saw Hughes bending over with pain, his

courage quailed. He asked me if I meant to

persist in my resistance. I told him I did, come

what might; that he had used me like a brute

for six months, and that I was determined to be

used so no longer. With that, he strove to drag

me to a stick that was lying just out of the

stable door. He meant to knock me down. But

just as he was leaning over to get the stick, I

seized him with both hands by his collar, and

brought him by a sudden snatch to the ground.

By this time, Bill came. Covey called upon him

for assistance. Bill wanted to know what he could not do.

1. Read the following sentence and select, from the choices below, the word closest in meaning

to the word in bold-faced type.

I have already intimated that my condition was much worse, during the first six months of my stay at Mr. Covey’s, than in the last six.

a. stated

b. confirmed
c. announced
d. implied

2. The sentence, “I then presented an appearance enough to affect any but a heart of iron,” is

meant to explain to the reader

a. how tough the man was.
b. how badly beaten and mistreated he looked.
c. that a slave should not rebel against his master.
d. that a black man in the south would earn no sympathy from anyone.

3. Read the following sentence and select, from the choices below, the word closest in meaning

to the word in bold-faced type.

When he saw Hughes bending over with pain, his courage quailed.

a. increased
b. shrank
c. remained
d. doubled

4. Read the following selection, written by Frederick Douglass, and summarize his thoughts.

What is he saying?

I was broken in body, soul, and spirit. My natural elasticity was crushed, my intellect
languished, the disposition to read departed, the cheerful spark that lingered about my eye died; the dark night of slavery closed in upon me; and behold a man transformed into a brute!

5. Describe the day the narrator fell ill.

6. The narrator runs into his friend, Sandy, and asks for advice. What does Sandy tell him?

What does he give to him and why?

7. Why did the narrator identify his battle with Mr. Covey as a turning point? How did it

change him?

8. How did the narrator’s new attitude translate into the way he lived his life from the day of

the fight and afterwards?

American Literature

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Readings in American Literature Volume I - Chapter 3- 4 C The Romantic Period, 1820–1860: Slavery

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