Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave
a few days, when Mr. Ruggles sought me out, and very kindly took me to
his boarding-house at the corner of Church and Lespenard Streets. Mr.
Ruggles was then very deeply engaged in the memorable _Darg_ case, as
well as attending to a number of other fugitive slaves, devising ways
and means for their successful escape; and, though watched and hemmed
in on almost every side, he seemed to be more than a match for his
enemies.
Very soon after I went to Mr. Ruggles, he wished to know of me where I
wanted to go; as he deemed it unsafe for me to remain in New York. I
told him I was a calker, and should like to go where I could get work.
I thought of going to Canada; but he decided against it, and in favor
of my going to New Bedford, thinking I should be able to get work there
at my trade. At this time, Anna,[2] my intended wife, came on; for I
wrote to her immediately after my arrival at New York, (notwithstanding
my homeless, houseless, and helpless condition,) informing her of my
successful flight, and wishing her to come on forthwith. In a few days
after her arrival, Mr. Ruggles called in the Rev. J. W. C. Pennington,
who, in the presence of Mr. Ruggles, Mrs. Michaels, and two or three
others, performed the marriage ceremony, and gave us a certificate, of
which the following is an exact copy:—
“This may certify, that I joined together in holy matrimony Frederick
Johnson[3] and Anna Murray, as man and wife, in the presence of Mr.
David Ruggles and Mrs. Michaels.
“JAMES W. C. PENNINGTON
“_New York, Sept_. 15, 1838”
[2] She was free.
[3] I had changed my name from Frederick _Bailey_ to that of
_Johnson_.
Upon receiving this certificate, and a five-dollar bill from Mr.
Ruggles, I shouldered one part of our baggage, and Anna took up the
other, and we set out forthwith to take passage on board of the
steamboat John W. Richmond for Newport, on our way to New Bedford. Mr.
Ruggles gave me a letter to a Mr. Shaw in Newport, and told me, in case
my money did not serve me to New Bedford, to stop in Newport and obtain
further assistance; but upon our arrival at Newport, we were so anxious
to get to a place of safety, that, notwithstanding we lacked the
necessary money to pay our fare, we decided to take seats in the stage,
and promise to pay when we got to New Bedford. We were encouraged to do
this by two excellent gentlemen, residents of New Bedford, whose names
I afterward ascertained to be Joseph Ricketson and William C. Taber.
They seemed at once to understand our circumstances, and gave us such
assurance of their friendliness as put us fully at ease in their
presence.
It was good indeed to meet with such friends, at such a time. Upon
reaching New Bedford, we were directed to the house of Mr. Nathan
Johnson, by whom we were kindly received, and hospitably provided for.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Johnson took a deep and lively interest in our
welfare. They proved themselves quite worthy of the name of
abolitionists. When the stage-driver found us unable to pay our fare,
he held on upon our baggage as security for the debt. I had but to
mention the fact to Mr. Johnson, and he forthwith advanced the money.
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