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 re-
solved to fight; and, suiting my action to the reso-
lution, 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 do. Covey said, “Take hold of him, take
hold of him!” Bill said his master hired him out to
work, and not to help to whip me; so he left Covey
and myself to fight our own battle out. We were
at it for nearly two hours. Covey at length let me
go, puffing and blowing at a great rate, saying that
if I had not resisted, he would not have whipped
me half so much. The truth was, that he had not
whipped me at all. I considered him as getting en-
tirely the worst end of the bargain; for he had drawn
no blood from me, but I had from him. The whole
six months afterwards, that I spent with Mr. Covey,
he never laid the weight of his finger upon me in
anger. He would occasionally say, he didn’t want
to get hold of me again. “No,” thought I, “you
need not; for you will come off worse than you did
before.”
<73>This battle with Mr. Covey was the turning-
point in my career as a slave. It rekindled the few
expiring embers of freedom, and revived within me
a sense of my own manhood. It recalled the de-
parted self-confidence, and inspired me again with
a determination to be free. The gratification af-
forded by the triumph was a full compensation for
whatever else might follow, even death itself. He
only can understand the deep satisfaction which I
experienced, who has himself repelled by force the
bloody arm of slavery. I felt as I never felt before.
It was a glorious resurrection, from the tomb of
slavery, to the heaven of freedom. My long-crushed
spirit rose, cowardice departed, bold defiance took
its place; and I now resolved that, however long I
might remain a slave in form, the day had passed
forever when I could be a slave in fact. I did not
hesitate to let it be known of me, that the white
man who expected to succeed in whipping, must
also succeed in killing me.
From this time I was never again what might be
called fairly whipped, though I remained a slave
four years afterwards. I had several fights, but was
never whipped.
It was for a long time a matter of surprise to me
why Mr. Covey did not immediately have me taken
by the constable to the whipping-post, and there
regularly whipped for the crime of raising my hand
against a white man in defence of myself. And the
only explanation I can now think of does not entirely
satisfy me; but such as it is, I will give it. Mr. Covey
enjoyed the most unbounded reputation for being
a first-rate overseer and negro-breaker. It was of con-
siderable importance to him. That reputation was at
stake; and had he sent me — a boy about sixteen years
old — to the public whipping-post, his reputation
would have been lost; so, to save his reputation, he
suffered me to go unpunished.
My term of actual service to Mr. Edward Covey
ended on Christmas day, 1833. The days between
Christmas and New Year’s day are allowed as holi-
days; and, accordingly, we were not required to per-
form any labor, more than to feed and take care of
the stock. This time we regarded as our own, by the
grace of our masters; and we therefore used or
abused it nearly as we pleased. Those of us who had
families at a distance, were generally allowed to
spend the whole six days in their society. This time,
however, was spent in various ways. The staid, sober,
thinking and industrious ones of our number would
employ themselves in making corn-brooms, mats,
horse-collars, and baskets; and another class of us
would spend the time in hunting opossums, hares,
and coons. But by far the larger part engaged in
such sports and merriments as playing ball, wres-
tling, running foot-races, fiddling, dancing, and
drinking whisky; and this latter mode of spending
the time was by far the most agreeable to the feel-
ings of our masters. A slave who would work during
the holidays was considered by our masters as
scarcely deserving them. He was regarded as one
who rejected the favor of his master. It was deemed
a disgrace not to get drunk at Christmas; and he
was regarded as lazy indeed, who had not provided
himself with the necessary means, during the year,
to get whisky enough to last him through Christmas.
From what I know of the effect of these holidays
upon the slave, I believe them to be among the
most effective means in the hands of the slaveholder
in keeping down the spirit of insurrection. Were
the slaveholders at once to abandon this practice,
I have not the slightest doubt it would lead to an
immediate insurrection among the slaves. These
holidays serve as conductors, or safety-valves, to carry
off the rebellious spirit of enslaved humanity. But
for these, the slave would be forced up to the wild-
est desperation; and woe betide the slaveholder, the
day he ventures to remove or hinder the operation
of those conductors! I warn him that, in such an
event, a spirit will go forth in their midst, more to
be dreaded than the most appalling earthquake.
The holidays are part and parcel of the gross
fraud, wrong, and inhumanity of slavery. They are
professedly a custom established by the benevolence
of the slaveholders; but I undertake to say, it is the
result of selfishness, and one of the grossest frauds
committed upon the down-trodden slave. They do
not give the slaves this time because they would
not like to have their work during its continuance,
but because they know it would be unsafe to deprive
them of it. This will be seen by the fact, that the
slaveholders like to have their slaves spend those
days just in such a manner as to make them as glad
of their ending as of their beginning. Their object
seems to be, to disgust their slaves with freedom,
by plunging them into the lowest depths of dissipa-
tion. For instance, the slaveholders not only like to
see the slave drink of his own accord, but will adopt
various plans to make him drunk. One plan is, to
make bets on their slaves, as to who can drink the
most whisky without getting drunk; and in this way
they succeed in getting whole multitudes to drink
to excess. Thus, when the slave asks for virtuous
freedom, the cunning slaveholder, knowing his ig-
norance, cheats him with a dose of vicious dissi-
pation, artfully labelled with the name of liberty.
The most of us used to drink it down, and the result
was just what might be supposed; many of us
were led to think that there was little to choose
between liberty and slavery. We felt, and very prop-
erly too, that we had almost as well be slaves to