Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass | Page 6

was still dangerous, in Massachusetts, for honest men to tell their
names! They say the fathers, in 1776, signed the Declaration of
Independence with the halter about their necks. You, too, publish your
declaration of freedom with danger compassing you around. In all the
broad lands which the Constitution of the United States overshadows,
there is no single spot,--however narrow or desolate,--where a fugitive
slave can plant himself and say, "I am safe." The whole armory of
Northern Law has no shield for you. I am free to say that, in your place,
I should throw the MS. into the fire.
You, perhaps, may tell your story in safety, endeared as you are to so
many warm hearts by rare gifts, and a still rarer devotion of them to the
service of others. But it will be owing only to your labors, and the
fearless efforts of those who, trampling the laws and Constitution of the
country under their feet, are determined that they will "hide the
outcast," and that their hearths shall be, spite of the law, an asylum for
the oppressed, if, some time or other, the humblest may stand in our
streets, and bear witness in safety against the cruelties of which he has
been the victim.

Yet it is sad to think, that these very throbbing hearts which welcome
your story, and form your best safeguard in telling it, are all beating
contrary to the "statute in such case made and provided." Go on, my
dear friend, till you, and those who, like you, have been saved, so as by
fire, from the dark prison-house, shall stereotype these free, illegal
pulses into statutes; and New England, cutting loose from a
blood-stained Union, shall glory in being the house of refuge for the
oppressed,--till we no longer merely "hide the outcast," or make a merit
of standing idly by while he is hunted in our midst; but, consecrating
anew the soil of the Pilgrims as an asylum for the oppressed, proclaim
our WELCOME to the slave so loudly, that the tones shall reach every
hut in the Carolinas, and make the broken-hearted bondman leap up at
the thought of old Massachusetts.
God speed the day!
Till then, and ever, Yours truly, WENDELL PHILLIPS

FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
Frederick Douglass was born in slavery as Frederick Augustus
Washington Bailey near Easton in Talbot County, Maryland. He was
not sure of the exact year of his birth, but he knew that it was 1817 or
1818. As a young boy he was sent to Baltimore, to be a house servant,
where he learned to read and write, with the assistance of his master's
wife. In 1838 he escaped from slavery and went to New York City,
where he married Anna Murray, a free colored woman whom he had
met in Baltimore. Soon thereafter he changed his name to Frederick
Douglass. In 1841 he addressed a convention of the Massachusetts
Anti-Slavery Society in Nantucket and so greatly impressed the group
that they immediately employed him as an agent. He was such an
impressive orator that numerous persons doubted if he had ever been a
slave, so he wrote NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF FREDERICK
DOUGLASS. During the Civil War he assisted in the recruiting of
colored men for the 54th and 55th Massachusetts Regiments and
consistently argued for the emancipation of slaves. After the war he

was active in securing and protecting the rights of the freemen. In his
later years, at different times, he was secretary of the Santo Domingo
Commission, marshall and recorder of deeds of the District of
Columbia, and United States Minister to Haiti. His other
autobiographical works are MY BONDAGE AND MY FREEDOM
and LIFE AND TIMES OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS, published in
1855 and 1881 respectively. He died in 1895.

CHAPTER I
I was born in Tuckahoe, near Hillsborough, and about twelve miles
from Easton, in Talbot county, Maryland. I have no accurate
knowledge of my age, never having seen any authentic record
containing it. By far the larger part of the slaves know as little of their
ages as horses know of theirs, and it is the wish of most masters within
my knowledge to keep their slaves thus ignorant. I do not remember to
have ever met a slave who could tell of his birthday. They seldom come
nearer to it than planting-time, harvesttime, cherry-time, spring-time, or
fall-time. A want of information concerning my own was a source of
unhappiness to me even during childhood. The white children could tell
their ages. I could not tell why I ought to be deprived of the same
privilege. I was not allowed to make any inquiries of my master
concerning it. He deemed all such inquiries on the part of a slave
improper and impertinent, and evidence