The value of Frederick Douglass' collected autobiographies cannot be overstated. As a vivid representation of the condition of the enslaved in the United States over a period starting long before the Civil War and extending some 15 years after the abolition of slavery, Douglass' recollections are, perhaps, unique, and certainly riveting. Were his autobiographies required reading for high school students, they would go a long way toward debunking the myth, persistent to this day among racists and white supremacists, that the black race, as a whole, is somehow intellectually inferior to that race which enslaved them. The very fact of enslavement would argue to contrary, but Douglass here gives undeniable proof, the rejection of which would be tantamount to willful ignorance and stubborn obtusion. If we don't grant that Douglass had a mind which ranks among the most brilliant in the history of our nation, how could we possibly account for the facts of his life? Rising from abject, chattel slavery, he taught himself to read and write, and while this is extraordinary in and of itself, his motivations for doing so are equally extraordinary. Douglass, at a surprisingly early age, recognized that literacy was the key to liberation, that, to paraphrase a popular saying, if he could free his mind, his ass would follow. And so it did. He is careful to make this point clear: The more beset by physical hardships a slave was, the less "bandwidth" they had to contemplate their own state and compare it to a hypothetical state of freedom. When survival from day to day, or even hour to hour, was one's primary concern, it left little space to contemplate one's human rights. Douglass recognized that this was a central motivating factor in the evolution of the slave-driving class, whose primary brief was the creation and administration of violence and cruelty. In short, the more traumatized a slave was, the less likely they were to contemplate rebellion or escape, as paradoxical as that may seem.
Douglass' good fortune was, at a relatively early age, to be sent from the cruelty of the plantation to the relative ease of the city of Baltimore, where he lived with a couple who were considerably more kindly than the slave holders he had been raised among. This alleviated from him the fundamental burdens of survival, as he now enjoyed sufficient food, shelter, and clothing. This state of affairs freed his mind to contemplate more philosophical questions: Why was he a slave when others were free? Why were the enslavers so deeply opposed to the idea of the enslaved becoming literate? How could those who believed in the God of the Bible seemingly defy its fundamental precepts, not simply by denying the humanity of an entire race of human beings, but actually resorting to their supposedly holy scriptures to justify such a state?
As a result of the vagaries of life -- vagaries almost always exacerbated with regard to the enslaved -- Douglass was, for a time, sent back to plantation life and, although his tenure there was temporary, and despite the fact that he was able to return, eventually, to his Baltimore life, he was subjected to the full and untrammeled viciousness of the slave-driver and the slave-breaker. Here we meet with even further proof that Douglass possessed an innate and superior intelligence. When he was beaten so badly that his life was endangered, he resolved that he would never again allow himself to be assaulted without defending himself and giving at least as good as he received. This was not merely inspired out of desperation, but by the understanding that it is better, if one must die, to do so on one's feet, not on one's knees. As Douglass is quick to point out, the slaves most likely to be beaten were those least likely to fight back, so by adopting the stance he did he was certainly able to avoid all manner of great bodily harm.
These are but a few examples of Douglass' self-evidently superior intellect, and to enumerate every such point in Douglass' narrative would be to reprint his writings in toto. At every point in his life, he exhibited an intellect which would put many a white person (certainly including the current reviewer) to shame. His plan for escaping from slavery; his rise within the abolitionist movement in New England; his fruitful travels overseas; his efforts as a journalist and publisher; his connection to John Brown, as well as his counsel to Lincoln and other occupants of the White House; his appointment to various public offices; his facility in accumulating substantial wealth, as much in the interest of aiding the cause of his own oppressed people as for personal gain; even those few occasions when his opinions on matters of policy might seem questionable to a more modern perspective; all of these, and many more instances besides, reveal a mind of great clarity, pure reason, and enormous, undeniable power.
As I said above, these books should be required reading in our schools. Although it would not eradicate racism, it would surely contribute to its eventual eradication.
A few words, now, about this particular edition. It should be noted, first, that Douglass wrote three autobiographies of increasing length. The first ("Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave") was published in 1845 in response to those who, after Douglass had escaped to New England, doubted, based on his eloquence and depth of intellect, that he had ever actually been enslaved. Because he wrote this account, he subsequently spent time overseas in order to evade any possible capture by those who made their living by kidnapping escaped slaves. It was, in fact, as a result of this trip that Douglass' friends in England raised enough money to purchase his freedom from his former enslaver.
The second autobiography, "My Bondage and My Freedom," published in 1855, is nearly three times the length of the first volume, and adds a great deal to his narrative, apart from covering another whole decade of his life. It is, in essence, a vastly expanded edition of his first autobiography.
Due to the nature of the system of enslavement, in both of his first two autobiographies, Douglass was compelled to omit important details, since they might, on the one hand, place his brethren and allies in danger and, on the other, provide useful intelligence to the enslavers. These omissions are addressed in his third, and longest, autobiography, "Life and Times of Frederick Douglass," which, published in 1881, covers everything the in first two volumes, as well as the period leading up to and following the Civil War, including many details of his life during the period of Reconstruction. It also reveals some of the mysteries raised in the first two volumes (for example, the details of his escape to New York and, from there, to New Bedford).
Each subsequent volume subsumes most of the contents -- sometimes verbatim -- of the previous volume. And while there are certainly differences between them which an astute and meticulous reader will find interesting and valuable, those who want to limit their reading to a single volume should read the third of his autobiographies. This last volume also manages to correct or clarify a few points which were unclear in the first two volumes.
Finally, a word about the publisher of the edition I read, Wilder Publications, LLC. As a reader, I was put off by a number of problems with this edition. First, the text layout is very cramped and difficult to read. Second, in several instances entire blocks of text were omitted (or scrambled), and while the overall gist of the text could still be grasped, such errors are really inexcusable when dealing with a text which borders on the sacred. Furthermore, the first two volumes are strewn with indications that Douglass' original text contained errors (i.e.: "[sic]"). Thus, the publishers, while quick to point out Douglass' errors -- instead of taking the liberty of correcting them and adding an editorial note to that effect at the beginning of this edition -- riddled the book with errors of their own. At the risk of putting too fine a point on the matter, this comes off as micro-aggressive, especially given that the author's name on the spine of the book and at the top of every odd-numbered page is spelled incorrectly as "Frederick Douglas." On the one hand, perhaps the publishers should not have been so eager to sic their [sic] on the author; on the other hand, were I to edit a second edition of this book, I would feel compelled to add more than 250 "[sic]" notations of my own to correct what is, truly, a shameful error. In short, read the books, but buy them elsewhere!