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We now began to feel a degree of safety, and to prepare ourselves for

the duties and responsibilities of a life of freedom. On the morning

after our arrival at New Bedford, while at the breakfast-table, the

question arose as to what name I should be called by. The name given me

by my mother was, “Frederick Augustus Washington Bailey.” I, however,

had dispensed with the two middle names long before I left Maryland so

that I was generally known by the name of “Frederick Bailey.” I started

from Baltimore bearing the name of “Stanley.” When I got to New York, I

again changed my name to “Frederick Johnson,” and thought that would be

the last change. But when I got to New Bedford, I found it necessary

again to change my name. The reason of this necessity was, that there

were so many Johnsons in New Bedford, it was already quite difficult to

distinguish between them. I gave Mr. Johnson the privilege of choosing

me a name, but told him he must not take from me the name of

“Frederick.” I must hold on to that, to preserve a sense of my

identity. Mr. Johnson had just been reading the “Lady of the Lake,” and

at once suggested that my name be “Douglass.” From that time until now

I have been called “Frederick Douglass;” and as I am more widely known

by that name than by either of the others, I shall continue to use it

as my own.

I was quite disappointed at the general appearance of things in New

Bedford. The impression which I had received respecting the character

and condition of the people of the north, I found to be singularly

erroneous. I had very strangely supposed, while in slavery, that few of

the comforts, and scarcely any of the luxuries, of life were enjoyed at

the north, compared with what were enjoyed by the slaveholders of the

south. I probably came to this conclusion from the fact that northern

people owned no slaves. I supposed that they were about upon a level

with the non-slaveholding population of the south. I knew _they_ were

exceedingly poor, and I had been accustomed to regard their poverty as

the necessary consequence of their being non-slaveholders. I had

somehow imbibed the opinion that, in the absence of slaves, there could

be no wealth, and very little refinement. And upon coming to the north,

I expected to meet with a rough, hard-handed, and uncultivated

population, living in the most Spartan-like simplicity, knowing nothing

of the ease, luxury, pomp, and grandeur of southern slaveholders. Such

being my conjectures, any one acquainted with the appearance of New

Bedford may very readily infer how palpably I must have seen my

mistake.

In the afternoon of the day when I reached New Bedford, I visited the

wharves, to take a view of the shipping. Here I found myself surrounded

with the strongest proofs of wealth. Lying at the wharves, and riding

in the stream, I saw many ships of the finest model, in the best order,

and of the largest size. Upon the right and left, I was walled in by

granite warehouses of the widest dimensions, stowed to their utmost

capacity with the necessaries and comforts of life. Added to this,

almost every body seemed to be at work, but noiselessly so, compared

with what I had been accustomed to in Baltimore. There were no loud

songs heard from those engaged in loading and unloading ships. I heard

no deep oaths or horrid curses on the laborer. I saw no whipping of

men; but all seemed to go smoothly on. Every man appeared to understand

his work, and went at it with a sober, yet cheerful earnestness, which

betokened the deep interest which he felt in what he was doing, as well

as a sense of his own dignity as a man. To me this looked exceedingly

strange. From the wharves I strolled around and over the town, gazing

with wonder and admiration at the splendid churches, beautiful

dwellings, and finely-cultivated gardens; evincing an amount of wealth,

comfort, taste, and refinement, such as I had never seen in any part of

slaveholding Maryland.

Every thing looked clean, new, and beautiful. I saw few or no

dilapidated houses, with poverty-stricken inmates; no half-naked

children and barefooted women, such as I had been accustomed to see in

Hillsborough, Easton, St. Michael’s, and Baltimore. The people looked

more able, stronger, healthier, and happier, than those of Maryland. I

was for once made glad by a view of extreme wealth, without being

saddened by seeing extreme poverty. But the most astonishing as well as

the most interesting thing to me was the condition of the colored

people, a great many of whom, like myself, had escaped thither as a

refuge from the hunters of men. I found many, who had not been seven

years out of their chains, living in finer houses, and evidently

enjoying more of the comforts of life, than the average of slaveholders

in Maryland. I will venture to assert, that my friend Mr. Nathan

Johnson (of whom I can say with a grateful heart, “I was hungry, and he

gave me meat; I was thirsty, and he gave me drink; I was a stranger,

and he took me in”) lived in a neater house; dined at a better table;

took, paid for, and read, more newspapers; better understood the moral,

religious, and political character of the nation,—than nine tenths of

the slaveholders in Talbot county Maryland. Yet Mr. Johnson was a

working man. His hands were hardened by toil, and not his alone, but

those also of Mrs. Johnson. I found the colored people much more

spirited than I had supposed they would be. I found among them a

determination to protect each other from the blood-thirsty kidnapper,

at all hazards. Soon after my arrival, I was told of a circumstance

which illustrated their spirit. A colored man and a fugitive slave were

on unfriendly terms. The former was heard to threaten the latter with

informing his master of his whereabouts. Straightway a meeting was

called among the colored people, under the stereotyped notice,

“Business of importance!” The betrayer was invited to attend. The

people came at the appointed hour, and organized the meeting by

appointing a very religious old gentleman as president, who, I believe,

made a prayer, after which he addressed the meeting as follows:

“_Friends, we have got him here, and I would recommend that you young

men just take him outside the door, and kill him!_” With this, a number

of them bolted at him; but they were intercepted by some more timid

than themselves, and the betrayer escaped their vengeance, and has not

been seen in New Bedford since. I believe there have been no more such

threats, and should there be hereafter, I doubt not that death would be

the consequence.

I found employment, the third day after my arrival, in stowing a sloop

with a load of oil. It was new, dirty, and hard work for me; but I went

at it with a glad heart and a willing hand. I was now my own master. It

was a happy moment, the rapture of which can be understood only by

those who have been slaves. It was the first work, the reward of which

was to be entirely my own. There was no Master Hugh standing ready, the

moment I earned the money, to rob me of it. I worked that day with a

pleasure I had never before experienced. I was at work for myself and

newly-married wife. It was to me the starting-point of a new existence.

When I got through with that job, I went in pursuit of a job of

calking; but such was the strength of prejudice against color, among

the white calkers, that they refused to work with me, and of course I

could get no employment.[4] Finding my trade of no immediate benefit, I

threw off my calking habiliments, and prepared myself to do any kind of

work I could get to do. Mr. Johnson kindly let me have his wood-horse

and saw, and I very soon found myself a plenty of work. There was no

work too hard—none too dirty. I was ready to saw wood, shovel coal,

carry wood, sweep the chimney, or roll oil casks,—all of which I did

for nearly three years in New Bedford, before I became known to the

anti-slavery world.

[4] I am told that colored persons can now get employment at calking

in New Bedford—a result of anti-slavery effort.

In about four months after I went to New Bedford, there came a young

man to me, and inquired if I did not wish to take the “Liberator.” I

told him I did; but, just having made my escape from slavery, I

remarked that I was unable to pay for it then. I, however, finally

became a subscriber to it. The paper came, and I read it from week to

week with such feelings as it would be quite idle for me to attempt to

describe. The paper became my meat and my drink. My soul was set all on

fire. Its sympathy for my brethren in bonds—its scathing denunciations

of slaveholders—its faithful exposures of slavery—and its powerful

attacks upon the upholders of the institution—sent a thrill of joy

through my soul, such as I had never felt before!

I had not long been a reader of the “Liberator,” before I got a pretty

correct idea of the principles, measures and spirit of the anti-slavery

reform. I took right hold of the cause. I could do but little; but what

I could, I did with a joyful heart, and never felt happier than when in

an anti-slavery meeting. I seldom had much to say at the meetings,

because what I wanted to say was said so much better by others. But,

while attending an anti-slavery convention at Nantucket, on the 11th of

August, 1841, I felt strongly moved to speak, and was at the same time

much urged to do so by Mr. William C. Coffin, a gentleman who had heard

me speak in the colored people’s meeting at New Bedford. It was a

severe cross, and I took it up reluctantly. The truth was, I felt

myself a slave, and the idea of speaking to white people weighed me

down. I spoke but a few moments, when I felt a degree of freedom, and

said what I desired with considerable ease. From that time until now, I

have been engaged in pleading the cause of my brethren—with what

success, and with what devotion, I leave those acquainted with my

labors to decide.

APPENDIX

I find, since reading over the foregoing Narrative, that I have, in

several instances, spoken in such a tone and manner, respecting

religion, as may possibly lead those unacquainted with my religious

views to suppose me an opponent of all religion. To remove the

liability of such misapprehension, I deem it proper to append the

following brief explanation. What I have said respecting and against

religion, I mean strictly to apply to the _slaveholding religion_ of

this land, and with no possible reference to Christianity proper; for,

between the Christianity of this land, and the Christianity of Christ,

I recognize the widest possible difference—so wide, that to receive the

one as good, pure, and holy, is of necessity to reject the other as

bad, corrupt, and wicked. To be the friend of the one, is of necessity

to be the enemy of the other. I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial

Christianity of Christ: I therefore hate the corrupt, slaveholding,

women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical

Christianity of this land. Indeed, I can see no reason, but the most

deceitful one, for calling the religion of this land Christianity. I

look upon it as the climax of all misnomers, the boldest of all frauds,

and the grossest of all libels. Never was there a clearer case of

“stealing the livery of the court of heaven to serve the devil in.” I

am filled with unutterable loathing when I contemplate the religious

pomp and show, together with the horrible inconsistencies, which every

where surround me. We have men-stealers for ministers, women-whippers

for missionaries, and cradle-plunderers for church members. The man who

wields the blood-clotted cowskin during the week fills the pulpit on

Sunday, and claims to be a minister of the meek and lowly Jesus. The

man who robs me of my earnings at the end of each week meets me as a

class-leader on Sunday morning, to show me the way of life, and the

path of salvation. He who sells my sister, for purposes of

prostitution, stands forth as the pious advocate of purity. He who

proclaims it a religious duty to read the Bible denies me the right of

learning to read the name of the God who made me. He who is the

religious advocate of marriage robs whole millions of its sacred

influence, and leaves them to the ravages of wholesale pollution. The

warm defender of the sacredness of the family relation is the same that

scatters whole families,—sundering husbands and wives, parents and

children, sisters and brothers,—leaving the hut vacant, and the hearth

desolate. We see the thief preaching against theft, and the adulterer

against adultery. We have men sold to build churches, women sold to

support the gospel, and babes sold to purchase Bibles for the _Poor

Heathen! All For The Glory Of God And The Good Of Souls!_ The slave

auctioneer’s bell and the church-going bell chime in with each other,

and the bitter cries of the heart-broken slave are drowned in the

religious shouts of his pious master. Revivals of religion and revivals

in the slave-trade go hand in hand together. The slave prison and the

church stand near each other. The clanking of fetters and the rattling

of chains in the prison, and the pious psalm and solemn prayer in the

church, may be heard at the same time. The dealers in the bodies and

souls of men erect their stand in the presence of the pulpit, and they

mutually help each other. The dealer gives his blood-stained gold to

support the pulpit, and the pulpit, in return, covers his infernal

business with the garb of Christianity. Here we have religion and

robbery the allies of each other—devils dressed in angels’ robes, and

hell presenting the semblance of paradise.

“Just God! and these are they,v Who minister at thine altar, God of

right!

Men who their hands, with prayer and blessing, lay

On Israel’s ark of light.

“What! preach, and kidnap men?

Give thanks, and rob thy own afflicted poor?

Talk of thy glorious liberty, and then

Bolt hard the captive’s door?

“What! servants of thy own

Merciful Son, who came to seek and save

The homeless and the outcast, fettering down

The tasked and plundered slave!

“Pilate and Herod friends!

Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine!

Just God and holy! is that church which lends

Strength to the spoiler thine?”

The Christianity of America is a Christianity, of whose votaries it may

be as truly said, as it was of the ancient scribes and Pharisees, “They

bind heavy burdens, and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men’s

shoulders, but they themselves will not move them with one of their

fingers. All their works they do for to be seen of men.—They love the

uppermost rooms at feasts, and the chief seats in the synagogues, . . .

. . . and to be called of men, Rabbi, Rabbi.—But woe unto you, scribes

and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against

men; for ye neither go in yourselves, neither suffer ye them that are

entering to go in. Ye devour widows’ houses, and for a pretence make

long prayers; therefore ye shall receive the greater damnation. Ye

compass sea and land to make one proselyte, and when he is made, ye

make him twofold more the child of hell than yourselves.—Woe unto you,

scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint, and anise,

and cumin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment,

mercy, and faith; these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the

other undone. Ye blind guides! which strain at a gnat, and swallow a

camel. Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye make

clean the outside of the cup and of the platter; but within, they are

full of extortion and excess.—Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees,

hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear

beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all

uncleanness. Even so ye also outwardly appear righteous unto men, but

within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.”

Dark and terrible as is this picture, I hold it to be strictly true of

the overwhelming mass of professed Christians in America. They strain

at a gnat, and swallow a camel. Could any thing be more true of our

churches? They would be shocked at the proposition of fellowshipping a

_sheep_-stealer; and at the same time they hug to their communion a

_man_-stealer, and brand me with being an infidel, if I find fault with

them for it. They attend with Pharisaical strictness to the outward

forms of religion, and at the same time neglect the weightier matters

of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith. They are always ready to

sacrifice, but seldom to show mercy. They are they who are represented

as professing to love God whom they have not seen, whilst they hate

their brother whom they have seen. They love the heathen on the other

side of the globe. They can pray for him, pay money to have the Bible

put into his hand, and missionaries to instruct him; while they despise

and totally neglect the heathen at their own doors.

Such is, very briefly, my view of the religion of this land; and to

avoid any misunderstanding, growing out of the use of general terms, I

mean by the religion of this land, that which is revealed in the words,

deeds, and actions, of those bodies, north and south, calling

themselves Christian churches, and yet in union with slaveholders. It

is against religion, as presented by these bodies, that I have felt it

my duty to testify.

I conclude these remarks by copying the following portrait of the

religion of the south, (which is, by communion and fellowship, the

religion of the north,) which I soberly affirm is “true to the life,”

and without caricature or the slightest exaggeration. It is said to

have been drawn, several years before the present anti-slavery

agitation began, by a northern Methodist preacher, who, while residing

at the south, had an opportunity to see slaveholding morals, manners,

and piety, with his own eyes. “Shall I not visit for these things?

saith the Lord. Shall not my soul be avenged on such a nation as this?”

A PARODY

“Come, saints and sinners, hear me tell

How pious priests whip Jack and Nell,

And women buy and children sell,

And preach all sinners down to hell,

And sing of heavenly union.

“They’ll bleat and baa, dona like goats,

Gorge down black sheep, and strain at motes,

Array their backs in fine black coats,

Then seize their negroes by their throats,

And choke, for heavenly union.

“They’ll church you if you sip a dram,

And damn you if you steal a lamb;

Yet rob old Tony, Doll, and Sam,

Of human rights, and bread and ham;

Kidnapper’s heavenly union.

“They’ll loudly talk of Christ’s reward,

And bind his image with a cord,

And scold, and swing the lash abhorred,

And sell their brother in the Lord

To handcuffed heavenly union.

“They’ll read and sing a sacred song,

And make a prayer both loud and long,

And teach the right and do the wrong,

Hailing the brother, sister throng,

With words of heavenly union.

“We wonder how such saints can sing,

Or praise the Lord upon the wing,

Who roar, and scold, and whip, and sting,

And to their slaves and mammon cling,

In guilty conscience union.

“They’ll raise tobacco, corn, and rye,

And drive, and thieve, and cheat, and lie,

And lay up treasures in the sky,

By making switch and cowskin fly,

In hope of heavenly union.

“They’ll crack old Tony on the skull,

And preach and roar like Bashan bull,

Or braying ass, of mischief full,

Then seize old Jacob by the wool,

And pull for heavenly union.

“A roaring, ranting, sleek man-thief,

Who lived on mutton, veal, and beef,

Yet never would afford relief

To needy, sable sons of grief,

Was big with heavenly union.

“‘Love not the world,’ the preacher said,

And winked his eye, and shook his head;

He seized on Tom, and Dick, and Ned,

Cut short their meat, and clothes, and bread,

Yet still loved heavenly union.

“Another preacher whining spoke

Of One whose heart for sinners broke:

He tied old Nanny to an oak,

And drew the blood at every stroke,

And prayed for heavenly union.

“Two others oped their iron jaws,

And waved their children-stealing paws;

There sat their children in gewgaws;

By stinting negroes’ backs and maws,

They kept up heavenly union.

“All good from Jack another takes,

And entertains their flirts and rakes,

Who dress as sleek as glossy snakes,

And cram their mouths with sweetened cakes;

And this goes down for union.”

Sincerely and earnestly hoping that this little book may do something

toward throwing light on the American slave system, and hastening the

glad day of deliverance to the millions of my brethren in

bonds—faithfully relying upon the power of truth, love, and justice,

for success in my humble efforts—and solemnly pledging my self anew to

the sacred cause,—I subscribe myself,

FREDERICK DOUGLASS.

LYNN, _Mass., April_ 28, 1845.

THE END