Narrative of the Life of FREDERICK DOUGLASS: The Project Gutenberg eBook of Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, by Frederick Douglass

My new mistress Mrs. Auld proved to be all she appeared when I first met her at the door, a woman of the kindest heart and finest feelings. She was entirely unlike any other white woman I had ever seen. I could not approach her as I was used to approaching other white ladies. My early instructions were all out of place. The crouching servility, usually so acceptable a quality in a slave, disturbed her. She did not consider it unmannerly for a slave to look her in the face. Her face was made of heavenly smiles, and her voice of tranquil music.

Soon after I went to live with the Aulds, she very kindly started to teach me the A, B, C, and then help me in learning to spell words of three or four letters. Just at this point of my progress, Mr. Auld found out what was going on, and at once forbade her to instruct me further, telling her, among other things, that it was unlawful, as well as unsafe, to teach a slave to read. “If you give a nigger an inch, he will take an ell. A nigger should know nothing but to obey his master—to do as he is told to do. Learning would spoil the best nigger,” he said.

“Now, if you teach that nigger how to read, he would be forever unfit for being a slave and of no value to his master. As to himself, it could do him no good, but a great deal of harm. It would make him discontented and unhappy”.

These words sank deep into my heart, stirred up my sentiments, and called into existence an entirely new train of thought. It was a new and special revelation, explaining dark and mysterious things, with which my youthful understanding had struggled, but in vain. I now understood what had been to me a most perplexing difficulty—namely the white man’s power to enslave the black man. From that moment, I understood the pathway from slavery to freedom. It was just what I wanted, and I got it at a time when I the least expected it. While I was saddened by the thought of losing the help of my kind mistress, I was gladdened by the invaluable instruction which, by mere accident, I had gained from my master. Though conscious of the difficulty of learning without a teacher, I set out with high hope, and a fixed purpose, at whatever cost of trouble, to learn how to read.

Mrs. Auld, who had kindly started teaching me, had, now, not only stopped her instructions, but had set her face against my being instructed by anyone else. She would be angry when seeing me with a newspaper or a book, and would rush at me and snatch it. She would be uneasy if I was in a separate room for long and would call me to give an account of myself. All this, however, was too late. The first step had been taken. But I was forced to resort to various tactics.

I made friends of all the little white boys whom I met in the street. As many of these as I could, I turned into my reading teachers. When I was sent on errands, I always took my book with me. By going one part of my errand quickly, I found time to get a lesson before my return. I used also to carry bread with me, enough of which was always in the house, and to which I was always welcome. This bread I offered to the poor, hungry white children in the neighborhood, who, in return, would give me that more valuable bread of knowledge.

My first attempt in learning to write was copying the letters marked on pieces of timber in a shipyard. After I was able to make four letters, I would tell any boy who could write that I could write as well as he did. The next word would be, “I don’t believe you. Let me see you try it.” I would then write the letters and ask him to beat that. In this way I got a good many lessons in writing. During this time, my copybook was the board fence, brick wall, and the pavement; my pen and ink was a lump of chalk. I then started and continued copying the Italics in Webster’s Spelling Book, until I could make them all without looking at the book. By this time, my little Master Thomas had learned how to write and had written over a number of copybooks. When Mrs. Auld was away from the house every Monday afternoon, leaving me to take care of the house, I used to spend the time in writing in the spaces left in Thomas’s copybook, copying what he had written. I continued to do this until I could write a hand very similar to that of his. Thus, after a long, tedious effort for years, I finally succeeded in learning how to write.