armahlovis/BlackWriterOnFreedom · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 77
saw in the frame, I asked for a “fip’s” worth of cord. The man behind
the counter looked rather sharply at me, and said with equal sharpness,
“You don’t belong about here.” I was alarmed, and thought I had
betrayed myself. A fip in Maryland was six and a quarter cents, called
fourpence in Massachusetts. But no harm came from the “fi’penny-bit”
blunder, and I confidently and cheerfully went to work with my saw and
buck. It was new business to me, but I never did better work, or more
of it, in the same space of time on the plantation for Covey, the
negro-breaker, than I did for myself in these earliest years of my
freedom.

Notwithstanding the just and humane sentiment of New Bedford three and
forty years ago, the place was not entirely free from race and color
prejudice. The good influence of the Roaches, Rodmans, Arnolds,
Grinnells, and Robesons did not pervade all classes of its people. The
test of the real civilization of the community came when I applied for
work at my trade, and then my repulse was emphatic and decisive. It so
happened that Mr. Rodney French, a wealthy and enterprising citizen,
distinguished as an anti-slavery man, was fitting out a vessel for a
whaling voyage, upon which there was a heavy job of calking and
coppering to be done. I had some skill in both branches, and applied to
Mr. French for work. He, generous man that he was, told me he would
employ me, and I might go at once to the vessel. I obeyed him, but upon
reaching the float-stage, where others [sic] calkers were at work, I
was told that every white man would leave the ship, in her unfinished
condition, if I struck a blow at my trade upon her. This uncivil,
inhuman, and selfish treatment was not so shocking and scandalous in my
eyes at the time as it now appears to me. Slavery had inured me to
hardships that made ordinary trouble sit lightly upon me. Could I have
worked at my trade I could have earned two dollars a day, but as a
common laborer I received but one dollar. The difference was of great
importance to me, but if I could not get two dollars, I was glad to get
one; and so I went to work for Mr. French as a common laborer. The
consciousness that I was free—no longer a slave—kept me cheerful under
this, and many similar proscriptions, which I was destined to meet in
New Bedford and elsewhere on the free soil of Massachusetts. For
instance, though colored children attended the schools, and were
treated kindly by their teachers, the New Bedford Lyceum refused, till
several years after my residence in that city, to allow any colored
person to attend the lectures delivered in its hall. Not until such men
as Charles Sumner, Theodore Parker, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Horace
Mann refused to lecture in their course while there was such a
restriction, was it abandoned.

Becoming satisfied that I could not rely on my trade in New Bedford to
give me a living, I prepared myself to do any kind of work that came to
hand. I sawed wood, shoveled coal, dug cellars, moved rubbish from back
yards, worked on the wharves, loaded and unloaded vessels, and scoured
their cabins.

I afterward got steady work at the brass-foundry owned by Mr. Richmond.
My duty here was to blow the bellows, swing the crane, and empty the
flasks in which castings were made; and at times this was hot and heavy
work. The articles produced here were mostly for ship work, and in the
busy season the foundry was in operation night and day. I have often
worked two nights and every working day of the week. My foreman, Mr.
Cobb, was a good man, and more than once protected me from abuse that
one or more of the hands was disposed to throw upon me. While in this
situation I had little time for mental improvement. Hard work, night
and day, over a furnace hot enough to keep the metal running like
water, was more favorable to action than thought; yet here I often
nailed a newspaper to the post near my bellows, and read while I was
performing the up and down motion of the heavy beam by which the
bellows was inflated and discharged. It was the pursuit of knowledge
under difficulties, and I look back to it now, after so many years,
with some complacency and a little wonder that I could have been so
earnest and persevering in any pursuit other than for my daily bread. I
certainly saw nothing in the conduct of those around to inspire me with
such interest: they were all devoted exclusively to what their hands
found to do. I am glad to be able to say that, during my engagement in
this foundry, no complaint was ever made against me that I did not do
my work, and do it well. The bellows which I worked by main strength
was, after I left, moved by a steam-engine.




Douglass, Frederick. “Reconstruction.”
Atlantic Monthly 18 (1866): 761-765.

Reconstruction


The assembling of the Second Session of the Thirty-ninth Congress may
very properly be made the occasion of a few earnest words on the
already much-worn topic of reconstruction.

Seldom has any legislative body been the subject of a solicitude more
intense, or of aspirations more sincere and ardent. There are the best
of reasons for this profound interest. Questions of vast moment, left
undecided by the last session of Congress, must be manfully grappled
with by this. No political skirmishing will avail. The occasion demands
statesmanship.

Whether the tremendous war so heroically fought and so victoriously
ended shall pass into history a miserable failure, barren of permanent
results,—a scandalous and shocking waste of blood and treasure,—a
strife for empire, as Earl Russell characterized it, of no value to
liberty or civilization,—an attempt to re-establish a Union by force,
which must be the merest mockery of a Union,—an effort to bring under

saw in the frame, I asked for a “fip’s” worth of cord. The man behind

the counter looked rather sharply at me, and said with equal sharpness,

“You don’t belong about here.” I was alarmed, and thought I had

betrayed myself. A fip in Maryland was six and a quarter cents, called

fourpence in Massachusetts. But no harm came from the “fi’penny-bit”

blunder, and I confidently and cheerfully went to work with my saw and

buck. It was new business to me, but I never did better work, or more

of it, in the same space of time on the plantation for Covey, the

negro-breaker, than I did for myself in these earliest years of my

freedom.

Notwithstanding the just and humane sentiment of New Bedford three and

forty years ago, the place was not entirely free from race and color

prejudice. The good influence of the Roaches, Rodmans, Arnolds,

Grinnells, and Robesons did not pervade all classes of its people. The

test of the real civilization of the community came when I applied for

work at my trade, and then my repulse was emphatic and decisive. It so

happened that Mr. Rodney French, a wealthy and enterprising citizen,

distinguished as an anti-slavery man, was fitting out a vessel for a

whaling voyage, upon which there was a heavy job of calking and

coppering to be done. I had some skill in both branches, and applied to

Mr. French for work. He, generous man that he was, told me he would

employ me, and I might go at once to the vessel. I obeyed him, but upon

reaching the float-stage, where others [sic] calkers were at work, I

was told that every white man would leave the ship, in her unfinished

condition, if I struck a blow at my trade upon her. This uncivil,

inhuman, and selfish treatment was not so shocking and scandalous in my

eyes at the time as it now appears to me. Slavery had inured me to

hardships that made ordinary trouble sit lightly upon me. Could I have

worked at my trade I could have earned two dollars a day, but as a

common laborer I received but one dollar. The difference was of great

importance to me, but if I could not get two dollars, I was glad to get

one; and so I went to work for Mr. French as a common laborer. The

consciousness that I was free—no longer a slave—kept me cheerful under

this, and many similar proscriptions, which I was destined to meet in

New Bedford and elsewhere on the free soil of Massachusetts. For

instance, though colored children attended the schools, and were

treated kindly by their teachers, the New Bedford Lyceum refused, till

several years after my residence in that city, to allow any colored

person to attend the lectures delivered in its hall. Not until such men

as Charles Sumner, Theodore Parker, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Horace

Mann refused to lecture in their course while there was such a

restriction, was it abandoned.

Becoming satisfied that I could not rely on my trade in New Bedford to

give me a living, I prepared myself to do any kind of work that came to

hand. I sawed wood, shoveled coal, dug cellars, moved rubbish from back

yards, worked on the wharves, loaded and unloaded vessels, and scoured

their cabins.

I afterward got steady work at the brass-foundry owned by Mr. Richmond.

My duty here was to blow the bellows, swing the crane, and empty the

flasks in which castings were made; and at times this was hot and heavy

work. The articles produced here were mostly for ship work, and in the

busy season the foundry was in operation night and day. I have often

worked two nights and every working day of the week. My foreman, Mr.

Cobb, was a good man, and more than once protected me from abuse that

one or more of the hands was disposed to throw upon me. While in this

situation I had little time for mental improvement. Hard work, night

and day, over a furnace hot enough to keep the metal running like

water, was more favorable to action than thought; yet here I often

nailed a newspaper to the post near my bellows, and read while I was

performing the up and down motion of the heavy beam by which the

bellows was inflated and discharged. It was the pursuit of knowledge

under difficulties, and I look back to it now, after so many years,

with some complacency and a little wonder that I could have been so

earnest and persevering in any pursuit other than for my daily bread. I

certainly saw nothing in the conduct of those around to inspire me with

such interest: they were all devoted exclusively to what their hands

found to do. I am glad to be able to say that, during my engagement in

this foundry, no complaint was ever made against me that I did not do

my work, and do it well. The bellows which I worked by main strength

was, after I left, moved by a steam-engine.

Douglass, Frederick. “Reconstruction.”

Atlantic Monthly 18 (1866): 761-765.

Reconstruction

The assembling of the Second Session of the Thirty-ninth Congress may

very properly be made the occasion of a few earnest words on the

already much-worn topic of reconstruction.

Seldom has any legislative body been the subject of a solicitude more

intense, or of aspirations more sincere and ardent. There are the best

of reasons for this profound interest. Questions of vast moment, left

undecided by the last session of Congress, must be manfully grappled

with by this. No political skirmishing will avail. The occasion demands

statesmanship.

Whether the tremendous war so heroically fought and so victoriously

ended shall pass into history a miserable failure, barren of permanent

results,—a scandalous and shocking waste of blood and treasure,—a

strife for empire, as Earl Russell characterized it, of no value to

liberty or civilization,—an attempt to re-establish a Union by force,

which must be the merest mockery of a Union,—an effort to bring under