The Gettysburg Address
by
Abraham Lincoln
A Speech on the Occasion of the Dedication of the
National Cemetery in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
November 19, 1863
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this
continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the
proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that
nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long
endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have
come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for
those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is
altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate–we can not consecrate–
we can not hallow–this ground. The brave men, living and dead,
who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor
power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long
remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did
here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the
unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so
nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the
great task remaining before us – that from these honored dead we
The Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln
take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last
full measure of devotion – that we here highly resolve that these
dead shall not have died in vain – that this nation, under God,
shall have a new birth of freedom – and that government of the
people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the
earth.
Created by Lit2Go on the web at etc.usf.edu
Escape from Slavery
By Frederick Douglass
Frederick Douglass (1817–1895) was famous for the autobiographies
that chronicled his life as a slave in Maryland and as a 20-year-old escapee in
Massachusetts. He eventually became a popular antislavery lecturer and
political appointee. Although he was born into slavery, Douglass secretly
became literate on his own. Best known for his Narrative of the Life of
Frederick Douglass, an American Slave (1845, rev. 1892), Douglass spent
several years abroad in England and Ireland to avoid capture as a fugitive
slave, although he later returned to purchase his own freedom.
Believing in the need for a self-sustaining black abolitionist movement,
Douglass soon founded North Star, an abolitionist newspaper, in Rochester,
New York, as the culmination of a split with William Lloyd Garrison, who led
the white abolitionist movement. During the Civil War, Douglass entreated
the Lincoln administration to adopt the cause of emancipation of the slaves
as the aim of the war and to enlist blacks in the Union’s struggle. Following
the Civil War, Douglass accepted several appointments from 1871 to 1891.
Throughout Reconstruction Douglass campaigned for black rights and actively
defended women’s rights. His other autobiographies include My Bondage and
My Freedom (1855) and The Life and Times of Frederick Douglass (1892).
Although autobiography has only recently been recognized as literature,
Douglass’s Narrative has been noted for its literary elements, such as the
contrast between the voice of the writer in the present and the voice of the
writer’s past, the book’s use of metaphors, and its account of personal
transformation and maturation.
FREDERICK DOUGLASS
I now come to that part of my life during which I planned, and finally
succeeded in making my escape from slavery. But before narrating any of the
peculiar circumstances, I deem it proper to make known my intention not to state
all the facts connected with the transaction. My reasons for pursuing this course
may be understood from the following: First, were I to give a minute statement of
all the facts, it is not only possible, but quite probable, that others would thereby be
involved in the most embarrassing difficulties. Secondly, such a statement would
most undoubtedly induce greater vigilance on the part of slaveholders than has
existed heretofore among them; which would, of course be the means of guarding a
door whereby some dear brother bondman might escape his galling chains. I deeply
regret the necessity that impels me to suppress anything of importance connected
with my experience in slavery. It would afford me great pleasure indeed, as well as
materially add to the interest of my narrative, were I at liberty to gratify a curiosity,
which I know exists in the minds of many, by an accurate statement of all the facts
pertaining to my most fortunate escape. But I must deprive myself of this pleasure,
and the curious of the gratification which such a statement would afford. I would
allow myself to suffer under the greatest imputations which evil minded men might
suggest, rather than exculpate myself, and thereby run the hazard of closing the
slightest avenue by which a brother slave might clear himself of the chains and
fetters of slavery.
I have never approved of the very public manner in which some of our
western friends have conducted what they call the underground railroad but which,
I think, by their open declarations, has been made most emphatically the upper
ground railroad. I honor those good men and women for their noble daring, and
applaud them for willingly subjecting themselves to bloody persecution, by openly
avowing their participation in the escape of slaves. I, however, can see very little
good resulting from such a course, either to themselves or the slaves escaping,
while, upon the other hand, I see and feel assured that those open declarations are
a positive evil to the slaves remaining, who are seeking to escape. They do nothing
towards enlightening the slave, whilst they do much towards enlightening the
master. They stimulate him to greater watchfulness, and enhance his power to
capture his slave. We owe something to the slaves south of the line as well as to
those north of it; and in aiding the latter on their way to freedom, we should be
careful to do nothing which would be likely to hinder the former from escaping from
slavery. I would keep the merciless slave holder profoundly ignorant of the means
of flight adopted by the slave. I would leave him to imagine himself surrounded by
myriads of invisible tormentors, ever ready to snatch from his infernal grasp his
trembling prey. Let him be left to feel his way in the dark; let darkness
commensurate with his crime hover over him; and let him feel that at every step he
takes, in pursuit of the flying bondman, he is running the frightful risk of having his
hot brains dashed out by an invisible agency. Let us render the tyrant no aid; let us
not hold the light by which he can trace the footprints of our flying brother. But
enough of this. I will now proceed to the statement of those facts, connected with
my escape, for which I am alone responsible, and for which no one can be made to
suffer but myself.
In the early part of the year 1838, I became quite restless. I could see no
reason why I should, at the end of each week, pour the reward of my toil into the
purse of my master. When I carried to him my weekly wages, he would, after
counting the money, look me in the face with a robber-like fierceness, and ask, “Is
this all?” He was satisfied with nothing less than the last cent. He would, however,
when I made him six dollars, sometimes give me six cents, to encourage me. It had
the opposite effect. I regarded it as a sort of admission of my right to the whole.
The fact that he gave me any part of my wages was proof, to my mind, that he
believed me entitled to the whole of them. I always felt worse for having received
any thing; for I feared that the giving me a few cents would ease his conscience,
and make him feel himself to be a pretty honorable sort of robber. My discontent
grew upon me. I was ever on the look-out for means of escape; and, finding no
direct means, I determined to try to hire my time, with a view of getting money
with which to make my escape. In the spring of 1838, when Master Thomas came
to Baltimore to purchase his spring goods, I got an opportunity, and applied to him
to allow me to hire my time. He unhesitatingly refused my request, and told me this
was another strategem by which to escape. He told me I could go nowhere but that
he could get me; and that, in the event of my running away, he should spare no
pains in his efforts to catch me. He exhorted me to content myself, and be
obedient. He told me, if I would be happy, I must lay out no plans for the future.
He said, if I behaved myself properly, he would take care of me. Indeed, he advised
me to complete thoughtlessness of the future, and taught me to depend solely
upon him for happiness. He seemed to see fully the pressing necessity of setting
aside my intellectual nature, in order to contentment in slavery. But in spite of him,
and even in spite of myself, I continued to think, and to think about the injustice of
my enslavement, and the means of escape.
About two months after this, I applied to Master Hugh for the privilege of
hiring my time. He was not acquainted with the fact that I had applied to Master
Thomas, and had been refused. He too, at first, seemed disposed to refuse; but,
after some reflection, he granted me the privilege, and proposed the following
term: I was to be allowed all my time, make all contracts with those for whom I
worked, and find my own employment; and, in return for this liberty, I was to pay
him three dollars at the end of each week; find myself in calking tools, and in board
and clothing. My board was two dollars and a half per week. This, with the wear
and tear of clothing and calking tools, made my regular expenses about six dollars
per week. This amount I was compelled to make up, or relinquish the privilege of
hiring my time. Rain or shine, work or no work, at the end of each week the money
must be forthcoming, or I must give up my privilege. This arrangement, it will be
perceived, was decidedly in my master’s favor. It relieved him of all need of looking
after me. His money was sure. He received all the benefits of slaveholding without
its evils; while I endured all the evils of a slave, and suffered all the care and
anxiety of a freeman. I found it a hard bargain. But, hard as it was, I thought it
better than the old mode of getting along. It was a step towards freedom to be
allowed to bear the responsibilities of a freeman, and I was determined to hold on
upon it. I bent myself to the work of making money. I was ready to work at night
as well as day, and by the most untiring perseverance and industry, I made enough
to meet my expenses, and lay up a little money every week. I went on thus from
May till August. Master Hugh then refused to allow me to hire my time longer. The
ground for his refusal was a failure on my part, one Saturday night, to pay him for
my week’s time. This failure was occasioned by my attending a camp meeting
about ten miles from Baltimore. During the week, I had entered into an
engagement with a number of young friends to start from Baltimore to the camp
ground early Saturday evening; and being detained by my employer, I was unable
to get down to Master Hugh’s without disappointing the company. I knew that
Master Hugh was in no special need of the money that night. I therefore decided to
go to camp meeting and upon my return pay him the three dollars. I staid at the
camp meeting one day longer than I intended when I left. But as soon as I
returned, I called upon him to pay him what he considered his due. I found him
very angry; he could scarce restrain his wrath. He said he had a great mind to give
me a severe whipping. He wished to know how I dared go out of the city without
asking his permission. I told him I hired my time, and while I paid him the price
which he asked for it, I did not know that I was bound to ask him when and where I
should go. This reply troubled him; and, after reflecting a few moments, he turned
to me, and said I should hire my time no longer; that the next thing he should
know of, I would be running away. Upon the same plea, he told me to bring my
tools and clothing home forthwith. I did so, but instead of seeking work, as I had
been accustomed to do previously to hiring my time, I spent the whole week
without the performance of a single stroke of work. I did this in retaliation.
Saturday night, he called upon me as usual for my week’s wages. I told him I had
no wages; as I had done no work that week. Here we were upon the point of
coming to blows. He raved, and swore his determination to get hold of me. I did not
allow myself a single word; but was resolved, if he laid the weight of his hand upon
me, it should be blow for blow. He did not strike me, but told me that he would find
me in constant employment in future. I thought the matter over during the next
day, Sunday, and finally resolved upon the third day of September, as the day upon
which I would make a second attempt to secure my freedom. I now had three
weeks during which to prepare for my journey. Early on Monday morning, before
Master Hugh had time to make any engagement for me, I went out and got
employment of Mr. Butler, as his ship-yard near the drawbridge, upon what is
called the City Block, thus making it unnecessary for him to seek employment for
me. At the end of the week, I brought him between eight and nine dollars. He
seemed very well pleased, and asked me why I did not do the same the week
before. He little knew what my plans were. My object in working steadily was to
remove any suspicion he might entertain of my intent to run away; and in this I
succeeded admirably. I suppose he thought I was never better satisfied with my
condition than at the very time during which I was planning my escape. The second
week passed, and again I carried him my full wages; and so well pleased was he,
that he gave me twenty-five cents (quite a large sum for a slaveholder to give a
slave) and bade me to make a good use of it. I told him I would.
Things went on without very smoothly indeed, but within there was trouble.
It is impossible for me to describe my feelings as the time of my contemplated start
drew near. I had a number of warm-hearted friends in Baltimore—friends that I
loved almost as I did my life—and the thought of being separated from them
forever was painful beyond expression. It is my opinion that thousands would
escape from slavery, who now remain, but for the strong cords of affection that
bind them to their friends. The thought of leaving my friends was decidedly the
most painful thought with which I had to contend. The love of them was my tender
point, and shook my decision more than all things else. Besides the pain of
separation, the dread and apprehension of a failure exceeded what I had
experienced at my first attempt. The appalling defeat I then sustained returned to
torment me. I felt assured that, if I failed in this attempt, my case would be a
hopeless one—it would seal my fate as a slave forever. I could not hope to get off
with any thing less than the severest punishment, and being placed beyond the
means of escape. It required no very vivid imagination to depict the most frightful
scenes through which I should have to pass, in case I failed. The wretchedness of
slavery, and the blessedness of freedom, were perpetually before me. It was life
and death with me. But I remained firm, and, according to my resolution, on the
third day of September, 1838, I left my chains, and succeeded in reaching New
York without the slightest interruption of any kind. How I did so— what means I
adopted—what direction I travelled, and by what mode of conveyance—I must
leave unexplained, for the reasons before mentioned.
I have been frequently asked how I felt when I found myself in a free State. I
have never been able to answer the question with any satisfaction to myself. It was
a moment of the highest excitement I ever experienced. I suppose I felt as one
may imagine the unarmed mariner to feel when he is rescued by a friendly man-ofwar from the pursuit of a pirate. In writing to a dear friend, immediately after my
arrival at New York, I said I felt like one who had escaped a den of hungry lions.
This state of mind, however, very soon subsided; and I was again seized with a
feeling of great insecurity and loneliness. I was yet liable to be taken back, and
subjected to all the tortures of slavery. This in itself was enough to damp the ardor
of my enthusiasm. But the loneliness overcame me. There I was in the midst of
thousands, and yet a perfect stranger; without home and without friends, in the
midst of thousands of my own brethren—children of a common Father, and yet I
dared not to unfold to any one of them my sad condition. I was afraid to speak to
any one for fear of speaking to the wrong one, and thereby falling into the hands of
money-loving kidnappers, whose business it was to lie in wait for the panting
fugitive, as the ferocious beasts of the forest lie in wait for their prey. The motto
which I adopted when I started from slavery was this—“Trust no man!” I saw in
every white man an enemy, and in almost every colored man cause for distrust. It
was a most painful situation; and, to understand it, one must needs experience it,
or imagine himself in similar circumstances. Let him be a fugitive slave in a strange
land—a land given up to be the hunting ground for slaveholders—whose inhabitants
are legalized kidnappers—where he is every moment subjected to the terrible
liability of being seized upon by his fellowmen, as the hideous crocodile seizes upon
his prey!—I say, let him place himself in my situation—without home or friends—
without money or credit—wanting shelter, and no one to give it—wanting bread,
and no money to buy it—and at the same time let him feel that he is pursued by
merciless men-hunters, and in total darkness as to what to do, where to go, or
where to stay—perfectly helpless both as to the means of defense and means of
escape—in the midst of plenty, yet suffering the terrible gnawings of hunger—in the
midst of houses, yet having no home—among fellow-men, yet feeling as if in the
midst of wild beasts, whose greediness to swallow up the trembling and halffamished fugitive is only equalled by that with which the monsters of the deep
swallow up the helpless fish upon which they subsist—I say, let him be placed in
this most trying situation—the situation in which I was placed— then, and not till
then, will he fully appreciate the hardships of, and know how to sympathize with,
the toil-worn and whip-scarred fugitive slave.
Thank Heaven, I remained but a short time in this distressed situation. I was
relieved from it by the humane hand of Mr. David Ruggles, whose vigilance,
kindness, and perseverance, I shall never forget. I am glad of an opportunity to
express, as far as words can, the love and gratitude I bear him. Mr. Ruggles is now
afflicted with blindness, and is himself in need of the same kind offices which he
was once so forward in the performance of toward others. I had been in New York
but 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,[1] 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[2] 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.
Upon receiving this certificate, and a five-dollar bill from Mr. Ruggles, I
shouldered 10 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 names 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 thanthemselves, 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.[3] 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 the hod, 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.
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.
[1] She was free. [Douglass’ note.]
[2] I had changed my name from Frederick Bailey to that of Johnson. [Douglass’ note.]
[3] I am told that colored persons can now get employment at calking in New Bedford—a result of
antislavery effort. [Douglass’ note.]
Running head: SUMMARY OF ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY
Summary of Escape from Slavery
Mark Cayanan
ENG 101 – Composition I (GT-CO1)
Colorado State University – Global Campus
Dr. Rose Bunch
May 15, 2016
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SUMMARY OF ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY
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Summary of Escape from Slavery
In the Escape from Slavery, Frederick Douglass began his narrative by talking about his
planned escape to any free state in the North without revealing the details of the method used to
achieve this accomplishment. He explained that the reason for the omission of this important
information was to protect the only available method of escape for slaves at that time. Douglass
furthered gave credence to the “good men and women” who were part of the “underground
railroad for their noble daring” (Douglass, 2000). These men and women were applauded by him
for creating a system that brought together all abolitionist committed to helping slaves escape
from slavery despite possible persecutions from their actions. However, Douglass was emphatic
in his opposition of anyone or group who revealed methods of escape used by slaves.
Douglass continued the story of his escape by telling the readers how he was able to raise
money for his escape. To raise the needed money, he had to earn enough to pay Hugh Auld the
agreed fixed amount per week and cover the cost of his escape. According to him, after his
master agreed with his proposal to “hire his time”, he had to find work “rain or shine” because at
the end of the week, “work or no work” he must pay the agreed amount or forfeit his privilege
(Douglass, 2000). In spite of his discontent for the arrangement, which freed Hugh Auld of all
responsibilities towards him, the prospect of freedom from slavery made him more resolute to
earn enough money for his eventual escape to New York.
When he arrived in the North, he discovered that business of kidnapping and returning
fugitive slaves back to their owners was booming. This discovery, as well as loneliness, doused
all the exciting feelings of freedom. However, he was fortunate to avoid capture as he met an
SUMMARY OF ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY
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abolitionist named David Ruggles, who encouraged him to relocate to New Bedford where he
could find work as a Caulker. For the first time in this narrative, he talked about his wife, Anna
Murray whom he traveled together with to New Bedford. On arrival, they both stayed with
Nathan Johnson, who assisted him to change his name in order to conceal his identity from slave
hunters. (Douglass, 2000) explained that he “gave Mr. Johnson the privilege to choose him a
name” that will include Frederick so as to keep his “sense of identity”.
Douglass further explained how the level affluence in the North amazed him as he
imagined a region that would be poor since it was not engaged in slave trade. According to him
“the people looked more able, stronger, healthier, and happier than those in Maryland”. Although
he was unable to work as Caulker due to refusal of white Caulkers in the city to work with
blacks, he did odd jobs to supplement the income he gets from loading ships.
He concluded this narrative by talking about his initial acquaintance with the abolitionist
movement through its newspaper called the The Liberator. A rare opportunity to speak about
slavery to a large white audience was given to him while he attended an abolitionist convention
in 1841. The events of that day later shaped his advocacy for the abolition of slavery in America.
SUMMARY OF ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY
References
Douglass, F. (2000). Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave. Random
House Digital, Inc.
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