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Chapter 1 A Slave Among Slaves
Chapter 2 Boyhood Days
Chapter 3 The Struggle For An Education
Chapter 4 Helping Others
Chapter 5 The Reconstruction Period
Chapter 6 Black Race And Red Race
Chapter 7 Early Days At Tuskegee
Chapter 8 Teaching School In A Stable And A Hen-house
Chapter 9 Anxious Days And Sleepless Nights
Chapter 10 A Harder Task Than Making Bricks Without Straw
Chapter 11 Making Their Beds Before They Could Lie On Them
Chapter 12 Raising Money
Chapter 13 Two Thousand Miles For A Five-minute Speech
Chapter 14 The Atlanta Exposition Address
Chapter 15 The Secret Of Success In Public Speaking
Chapter 16 Europe
Chapter 17 Last Words
I was born a slave on a plantation in Franklin County, Virginia.
I am not quite sure of the exact place or exact date of my birth,
but at any rate I suspect I must have been born somewhere and at
some time. As nearly as I have been able to learn, I was born
near a cross-roads post-office called Hale's Ford, and the year
was 1858 or 1859. I do not know the month or the day. The
earliest impressions I can now recall are of the plantation and
the slave quarters--the latter being the part of the plantation
where the slaves had their cabins.
My life had its beginning in the midst of the most miserable,
desolate, and discouraging surroundings. This was so, however,
not because my owners were especially cruel, for they were not,
as compared with many others. I was born in a typical log cabin,
about fourteen by sixteen feet square. In this cabin I lived with
my mother and a brother and sister till after the Civil War, when
we were all declared free.
Of my ancestry I know almost nothing. In the slave quarters, and
even later, I heard whispered conversations among the coloured
people of the tortures which the slaves, including, no doubt, my
ancestors on my mother's side, suffered in the middle passage of
the slave ship while being conveyed from Africa to America. I
have been unsuccessful in securing any information that would
throw any accurate light upon the history of my family beyond my
mother. She, I remember, had a half-brother and a half-sister. In
the days of slavery not very much attention was given to family
history and family records--that is, black family records. My
mother, I suppose, attracted the attention of a purchaser who was
afterward my owner and hers. Her addition to the slave family
attracted about as much attention as the purchase of a new horse
or cow. Of my father I know even less than of my mother. I do not
even know his name. I have heard reports to the effect that he
was a white man who lived on one of the near-by plantations.
Whoever he was, I never heard of his taking the least interest in
me or providing in any way for my rearing. But I do not find
especial fault with him. He was simply another unfortunate victim
of the institution which the Nation unhappily had engrafted upon
it at that time.
The cabin was not only our living-place, but was also used as the
kitchen for the plantation. My mother was the plantation cook.
The cabin was without glass windows; it had only openings in the
side which let in the light, and also the cold, chilly air of
winter. There was a door to the cabin--that is, something that
was called a door--but the uncertain hinges by which it was hung,
and the large cracks in it, to say nothing of the fact that it
was too small, made the room a very uncomfortable one. In
addition to these openings there was, in the lower right-hand
corner of the room, the "cat-hole," --a contrivance which almost
every mansion or cabin in Virginia possessed during the
ante-bellum period. The "cat-hole" was a square opening, about
seven by eight inches, provided for the purpose of letting the
cat pass in and out of the house at will during the night. In the
case of our particular cabin I could never understand the
necessity for this convenience, since there were at least a
half-dozen other places in the cabin that would have accommodated
the cats. There was no wooden floor in our cabin, the naked earth
being used as a floor. In the centre of the earthen floor there
was a large, deep opening covered with boards, which was used as
a place in which to store sweet potatoes during the winter. An
impression of this potato-hole is very distinctly engraved upon
my memory, because I recall that during the process of putting
the potatoes in or taking them out I would often come into
possession of one or two, which I roasted and thoroughly enjoyed.
There was no cooking-stove on our plantation, and all the cooking
for the whites and slaves my mother had to do over an open
fireplace, mostly in pots and "skillets." While the poorly built
cabin caused us to suffer with cold in the winter, the heat from
the open fireplace in summer was equally trying.
The early years of my life, which were spent in the little cabin,
were not very different from those of thousands of other slaves.
My mother, of course, had little time in which to give attention
to the training of her children during the day. She snatched a
few moments for our care in the early morning before her work
began, and at night after the day's work was done. One of my
earliest recollections is that of my mother cooking a chicken
late at night, and awakening her children for the purpose of
feeding them. How or where she got it I do not know. I presume,
however, it was procured from our owner's farm. Some people may
call this theft. If such a thing were to happen now, I should
condemn it as theft myself. But taking place at the time it did,
and for the reason that it did, no one could ever make me believe
that my mother was guilty of thieving. She was simply a victim of
the system of slavery. I cannot remember having slept in a bed
until after our family was declared free by the Emancipation
Proclamation. Three children--John, my older brother, Amanda, my
sister, and myself--had a pallet on the dirt floor, or, to be
more correct, we slept in and on a bundle of filthy rags laid
upon the dirt floor.
I was asked not long ago to tell something about the sports and
pastimes that I engaged in during my youth. Until that question
was asked it had never occurred to me that there was no period of
my life that was devoted to play. From the time that I can
remember anything, almost every day of my life has been occupied
in some kind of labour; though I think I would now be a more
useful man if I had had time for sports. During the period that I
spent in slavery I was not large enough to be of much service,
still I was occupied most of the time in cleaning the yards,
carrying water to the men in the fields, or going to the mill, to
which I used to take the corn, once a week, to be ground. The
mill was about three miles from the plantation. This work I
always dreaded. The heavy bag of corn would be thrown across the
back of the horse, and the corn divided about evenly on each
side; but in some way, almost without exception, on these trips,
the corn would so shift as to become unbalanced and would fall
off the horse, and often I would fall with it. As I was not
strong enough to reload the corn upon the horse, I would have to
wait, sometimes for many hours, till a chance passer-by came
along who would help me out of my trouble. The hours while
waiting for some one were usually spent in crying. The time
consumed in this way made me late in reaching the mill, and by
the time I got my corn ground and reached home it would be far
into the night. The road was a lonely one, and often led through
dense forests. I was always frightened. The woods were said to be
full of soldiers who had deserted from the army, and I had been
told that the first thing a deserter did to a Negro boy when he
found him alone was to cut off his ears. Besides, when I was late
in getting home I knew I would always get a severe scolding or a
flogging.
I had no schooling whatever while I was a slave, though I
remember on several occasions I went as far as the schoolhouse
door with one of my young mistresses to carry her books. The
picture of several dozen boys and girls in a schoolroom engaged
in study made a deep impression upon me, and I had the feeling
that to get into a schoolhouse and study in this way would be
about the same as getting into paradise.
So far as I can now recall, the first knowledge that I got of the
fact that we were slaves, and that freedom of the slaves was
being discussed, was early one morning before day, when I was
awakened by my mother kneeling over her children and fervently
praying that Lincoln and his armies might be successful, and that
one day she and her children might be free. In this connection I
have never been able to understand how the slaves throughout the
South, completely ignorant as were the masses so far as books or
newspapers were concerned, were able to keep themselves so
accurately and completely informed about the great National
questions that were agitating the country. From the time that
Garrison, Lovejoy, and others began to agitate for freedom, the
slaves throughout the South kept in close touch with the progress
of the movement. Though I was a mere child during the preparation
for the Civil War and during the war itself, I now recall the
many late-at-night whispered discussions that I heard my mother
and the other slaves on the plantation indulge in. These
discussions showed that they understood the situation, and that
they kept themselves informed of events by what was termed the
"grape-vine" telegraph.
During the campaign when Lincoln was first a candidate for the
Presidency, the slaves on our far-off plantation, miles from any
railroad or large city or daily newspaper, knew what the issues
involved were. When war was begun between the North and the
South, every slave on our plantation felt and knew that, though
other issues were discussed, the primal one was that of slavery.
Even the most ignorant members of my race on the remote
plantations felt in their hearts, with a certainty that admitted
of no doubt, that the freedom of the slaves would be the one
great result of the war, if the northern armies conquered. Every
success of the Federal armies and every defeat of the Confederate
forces was watched with the keenest and most intense interest.
Often the slaves got knowledge of the results of great battles
before the white people received it. This news was usually gotten
from the coloured man who was sent to the post-office for the
mail. In our case the post-office was about three miles from the
plantation, and the mail came once or twice a week. The man who
was sent to the office would linger about the place long enough
to get the drift of the conversation from the group of white
people who naturally congregated there, after receiving their
mail, to discuss the latest news. The mail-carrier on his way
back to our master's house would as naturally retail the news
that he had secured among the slaves, and in this way they often
heard of important events before the white people at the "big
house," as the master's house was called.
I cannot remember a single instance during my childhood or early
boyhood when our entire family sat down to the table together,
and God's blessing was asked, and the family ate a meal in a
civilized manner. On the plantation in Virginia, and even later,
meals were gotten by the children very much as dumb animals get
theirs. It was a piece of bread here and a scrap of meat there.
It was a cup of milk at one time and some potatoes at another.
Sometimes a portion of our family would eat out of the skillet or
pot, while some one else would eat from a tin plate held on the
knees, and often using nothing but the hands with which to hold
the food. When I had grown to sufficient size, I was required to
go to the "big house" at meal-times to fan the flies from the
table by means of a large set of paper fans operated by a pulley.
Naturally much of the conversation of the white people turned
upon the subject of freedom and the war, and I absorbed a good
deal of it. I remember that at one time I saw two of my young
mistresses and some lady visitors eating ginger-cakes, in the
yard. At that time those cakes seemed to me to be absolutely the
most tempting and desirable things that I had ever seen; and I
then and there resolved that, if I ever got free, the height of
my ambition would be reached if I could get to the point where I
could secure and eat ginger-cakes in the way that I saw those
ladies doing.
Of course as the war was prolonged the white people, in many
cases, often found it difficult to secure food for themselves. I
think the slaves felt the deprivation less than the whites,
because the usual diet for slaves was corn bread and pork, and
these could be raised on the plantation; but coffee, tea, sugar,
and other articles which the whites had been accustomed to use
could not be raised on the plantation, and the conditions brought
about by the war frequently made it impossible to secure these
things. The whites were often in great straits. Parched corn was
used for coffee, and a kind of black molasses was used instead of
sugar. Many times nothing was used to sweeten the so-called tea
and coffee.
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