Module 3: "The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass" (Excerpt 2)

Here, too, the slaves of all the other farms received their monthly allowance of food, and their yearly clothing.

Their yearly clothing consisted of two coarse linen shirts, one pair of linen trousers, like the shirts, one jacket, one pair of trousers for winter, made of coarse negro cloth, one pair of stockings, and one pair of shoes; the whole of which could not have cost more than seven dollars.

There were no beds given the slaves, unless one coarse blanket be considered such, and none but the men and women had these. This, however, is not considered a very great privation.

They find less difficulty from the want of beds, than from the want of time to sleep; for when their day's work in the field is done, the most of them having their washing, mending, and cooking to do, and having few or none of the ordinary facilities for doing either of these, very many of their sleeping hours are consumed in preparing for the field the coming day...

They find less difficulty from the want of beds, than from the want of time to sleep; for when their day's work in the field is done, the most of them having their washing, mending, and cooking to do, and having few or none of the ordinary facilities for doing either of these, very many of their sleeping hours are consumed in preparing for the field the coming day...

...here they sleep till they are summoned to the field by the driver's horn.

...here they sleep till they are summoned to the field by the driver's horn.

There must be no halting; every one must be at his or her post; and woe betides them who hear not this morning summons to the field; for if they are not awakened by the sense of hearing, they are by the sense of feeling: no age nor sex finds any favor.

There must be no halting; every one must be at his or her post; and woe betides them who hear not this morning summons to the field; for if they are not awakened by the sense of hearing, they are by the sense of feeling: no age nor sex finds any favor.

There must be no halting; every one must be at his or her post; and woe betides them who hear not this morning summons to the field; for if they are not awakened by the sense of hearing, they are by the sense of feeling: no age nor sex finds any favor.

Mr. Severe, the overseer, used to stand by the door of the quarter, armed with a large hickory stick and heavy cowskin, ready to whip any one who was so unfortunate as not to hear, or, from any other cause, was prevented from being ready to start for the field at the sound of the horn.

He seemed to take pleasure in manifesting his fiendish barbarity.

He seemed to take pleasure in manifesting his fiendish barbarity.

Added to his cruelty, he was a profane swearer.

Scarce a sentence escaped him but that was commenced or concluded by some horrid oath.

The field was the place to witness his cruelty and profanity.

His presence made it both the field of blood and of blasphemy.

His death was regarded by the slaves as the result of a merciful providence.

His death was regarded by the slaves as the result of a merciful providence.

The home plantation of Colonel Lloyd wore the appearance of a country village.

While on their way, they would make the dense old woods, for miles around, reverberate with their wild songs, revealing at once the highest joy and the deepest sadness.

I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meaning of those rude and apparently incoherent songs.

They told a tale of woe which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension; they were tones loud, long, and deep; they breathed the prayer and complaint of souls boiling over with the bitterest anguish.

The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness.

The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek.

To those songs I trace my first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing character of slavery.

To those songs I trace my first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing character of slavery.

Those songs still follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my sympathies for my brethren in bonds.

Those songs still follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my sympathies for my brethren in bonds.

If any one wishes to be impressed with the soul-killing effects of slavery, let him go to Colonel Lloyd's plantation, and, on allowance-day, place himself in the deep pine woods, and there let him, in silence, analyze the sounds that shall pass through the chambers of his soul,—and if he is not thus impressed, it will only be because "there is no flesh in his obdurate heart."

I have often been utterly astonished, since I came to the north, to find persons who could speak of the singing, among slaves, as evidence of their contentment and happiness.

It is impossible to conceive of a greater mistake. Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy.

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

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