On New Bedford, Massachusetts
His first home in freedom
Being an excerpt from Chapter XI of his first
Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
Published in 1845
... 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, andrefinement, 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 bare-footed 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 caulkers, that they refused to work with me, and of
course I could get no employment. [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.] 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.
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
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.