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Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave

been slaves. It was the first work, the reward of

which was to be entirely my own. There was no Mas-

ter 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 re-

fused to work with me, and of course I could get no

employment.* Finding my trade of no immediate

benefit, I threw off my calking habiliments, and pre-

pared 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

* I am told that colored persons can now get employment

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

did for nearly three years in New Bedford, before I

became known to the anti-slavery world.

In about four months after I went to New Bed-

ford, 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 institu-

tion — 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 sel-

dom 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 la-

bors to decide.

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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 possi-

bly lead those unacquainted with my religious views

to suppose me an opponent of all religion. To re-

move 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 Christi-

anity 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 re-

ject 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 impar-

tial Christianity of Christ: I therefore hate the cor-

rupt, slaveholding, women-whipping, cradle-plunder-

ing, 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 contem-

plate 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 pi-

ous advocate of purity. He who proclaims it a re-

ligious 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 re-

lation is the same that scatters whole families, — sun-

dering 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 in-

fernal 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,

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 upper-

most rooms at feasts, and the chief seats in the syna-

gogues, . . . . . . 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 dam-

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Categories: Frederick Douglass
curiosity: