I have selected this day on which to address you, because it is the anniversary of my emancipation15; and knowing no better way, I am led to this as the best mode of celebrating that truly important events. Just ten years ago this beautiful September morning, yon bright sun beheld16 me a slave—a poor degraded chattel—trembling at the sound of your voice, lamenting17 that I was a man, and wishing myself a brute18. The hopes which I had treasured up for weeks of a safe and successful escape from your grasp, were powerfully confronted at this last hour by dark clouds of doubt and fear, making my person shake and my bosom19 to heave with the heavy contest between hope and fear. I have no words to describe to you the deep agony of soul which I experienced on that never-to-be-forgotten morning—for I left by daylight. I was making a leap in the dark. The probabilities, so far as I could by reason determine them, were stoutly20 against the undertaking21. The preliminaries and precautions I had adopted previously22, all worked badly. I was like one going to war without weapons—ten chances of defeat to one of victory. One in whom I had confided23, and one who had promised me assistance, appalled24 by fear at the trial hour, deserted25 me, thus leaving the responsibility of success or failure solely26 with myself. You, sir, can never know my feelings. As I look back to them, I can scarcely realize that I have passed through a scene so trying. Trying, however, as they were, and gloomy as was the prospect27, thanks be to the Most High, who is ever the God of the oppressed, at the moment which was to determine my whole earthly career, His grace was sufficient; my mind was made up. I embraced the golden opportunity, took the morning tide at the flood, and a free man, young, active, and strong, is the result.
I have often thought I should like to explain to you the grounds upon which I have justified28 myself in running away from you. I am almost ashamed to do so now, for by this time you may have discovered them yourself. I will, however, glance at them. When yet but a child about six years old, I imbibed29 the determination to run away. The very first mental[332] effort that I now remember on my part, was an attempt to solve the mystery—why am I a slave? and with this question my youthful mind was troubled for many days, pressing upon me more heavily at times than others. When I saw the slave-driver whip a slave-woman, cut the blood out of her neck, and heard her piteous cries, I went away into the corner of the fence, wept and pondered over the mystery. I had, through some medium, I know not what, got some idea of God, the Creator of all mankind, the black and the white, and that he had made the blacks to serve the whites as slaves. How he could do this and be good, I could not tell. I was not satisfied with this theory, which made God responsible for slavery, for it pained me greatly, and I have wept over it long and often. At one time, your first wife, Mrs. Lucretia, heard me sighing and saw me shedding tears, and asked of me the matter, but I was afraid to tell her. I was puzzled with this question, till one night while sitting in the kitchen, I heard some of the old slaves talking of their parents having been stolen from Africa by white men, and were sold here as slaves. The whole mystery was solved at once. Very soon after this, my Aunt Jinny and Uncle Noah ran away, and the great noise made about it by your father-in-law, made me for the first time acquainted with the fact, that there were free states as well as slave states. From that time, I resolved that I would some day run away. The morality of the act I dispose of as follows: I am myself; you are yourself; we are two distinct persons, equal persons. What you are, I am. You are a man, and so am I. God created both, and made us separate beings. I am not by nature bond to you, or you to me. Nature does not make your existence depend upon me, or mine to depend upon yours. I cannot walk upon your legs, or you upon mine. I cannot breathe for you, or you for me; I must breathe for myself, and you for yourself. We are distinct persons, and are each equally provided with faculties30 necessary to our individual existence. In leaving you, I took nothing but what belonged to me, and in no way lessened31 your means for obtaining an honest living. Your faculties remained yours, and mine became useful to their rightful owner. I therefore see no wrong in any part of the transaction. It is true, I went off secretly; but that was more your fault than mine. Had I let you into the secret, you would have defeated the enterprise entirely32; but for this, I should have been really glad to have made you acquainted with my intentions to leave.
You may perhaps want to know how I like my present condition. I am free to say, I greatly prefer it to that which I occupied in Maryland. I am, however, by no means prejudiced against the state as such. Its geography, climate, fertility, and products, are such as to make it a very[333] desirable abode33 for any man; and but for the existence of slavery there, it is not impossible that I might again take up my abode in that state. It is not that I love Maryland less, but freedom more. You will be surprised to learn that people at the north labor6 under the strange delusion34 that if the slaves were emancipated35 at the south, they would flock to the north. So far from this being the case, in that event, you would see many old and familiar faces back again to the south. The fact is, there are few here who would not return to the south in the event of emancipation. We want to live in the land of our birth, and to lay our bones by the side of our fathers; and nothing short of an intense love of personal freedom keeps us from the south. For the sake of this, most of us would live on a crust of bread and a cup of cold water.
Since I left you, I have had a rich experience. I have occupied stations which I never dreamed of when a slave. Three out of the ten years since I left you, I spent as a common laborer on the wharves36 of New Bedford, Massachusetts. It was there I earned my first free dollar. It was mine. I could spend it as I pleased. I could buy hams or herring with it, without asking any odds37 of anybody. That was a precious dollar to me. You remember when I used to make seven, or eight, or even nine dollars a week in Baltimore, you would take every cent of it from me every Saturday night, saying that I belonged to you, and my earnings38 also. I never liked this conduct on your part—to say the best, I thought it a little mean. I would not have served you so. But let that pass. I was a little awkward about counting money in New England fashion when I first landed in New Bedford. I came near betraying myself several times. I caught myself saying phip, for fourpence; and at one time a man actually charged me with being a runaway39, whereupon I was silly enough to become one by running away from him, for I was greatly afraid he might adopt measures to get me again into slavery, a condition I then dreaded40 more than death.
I soon learned, however, to count money, as well as to make it, and got on swimmingly. I married soon after leaving you; in fact, I was engaged to be married before I left you; and instead of finding my companion a burden, she was truly a helpmate. She went to live at service, and I to work on the wharf41, and though we toiled43 hard the first winter, we never lived more happily. After remaining in New Bedford for three years, I met with William Lloyd Garrison44, a person of whom you have possibly heard, as he is pretty generally known among slaveholders. He put it into my head that I might make myself serviceable to the cause of the slave, by devoting a portion of my time to telling my own sorrows, and those of other slaves, which had come under my observation. This[334] was the commencement of a higher state of existence than any to which I had ever aspired46. I was thrown into society the most pure, enlightened, and benevolent47, that the country affords. Among these I have never forgotten you, but have invariably made you the topic of conversation—thus giving you all the notoriety I could do. I need not tell you that the opinion formed of you in these circles is far from being favorable. They have little respect for your honesty, and less for your religion.
But I was going on to relate to you something of my interesting experience. I had not long enjoyed the excellent society to which I have referred, before the light of its excellence48 exerted a beneficial influence on my mind and heart. Much of my early dislike of white persons was removed, and their manners, habits, and customs, so entirely unlike what I had been used to in the kitchen-quarters on the plantations50 of the south, fairly charmed me, and gave me a strong disrelish for the coarse and degrading customs of my former condition. I therefore made an effort so to improve my mind and deportment, as to be somewhat fitted to the station to which I seemed almost providentially called. The transition from degradation51 to respectability was indeed great, and to get from one to the other without carrying some marks of one’s former condition, is truly a difficult matter. I would not have you think that I am now entirely clear of all plantation49 peculiarities52, but my friends here, while they entertain the strongest dislike to them, regard me with that charity to which my past life somewhat entitles me, so that my condition in this respect is exceedingly pleasant. So far as my domestic affairs are concerned, I can boast of as comfortable a dwelling53 as your own. I have an industrious54 and neat companion, and four dear children—the oldest a girl of nine years, and three fine boys, the oldest eight, the next six, and the youngest four years old. The three oldest are now going regularly to school—two can read and write, and the other can spell, with tolerable correctness, words of two syllables55. Dear fellows! they are all in comfortable beds, and are sound asleep, perfectly56 secure under my own roof. There are no slaveholders here to rend57 my heart by snatching them from my arms, or blast a mother’s dearest hopes by tearing them from her bosom. These dear children are ours—not to work up into rice, sugar, and tobacco, but to watch over, regard, and protect, and to rear them up in the nurture58 and admonition of the gospel—to train them up in the paths of wisdom and virtue59, and, as far as we can, to make them useful to the world and to themselves. Oh! sir, a slaveholder never appears to me so completely an agent of hell, as when I think of and look upon my dear children. It is then that my feelings rise above my control. I meant to have said more with respect to my own prosperity and happiness, but thoughts and feel[335] ings which this recital60 has quickened, unfit me to proceed further in that direction. The grim horrors of slavery rise in all their ghastly terror before me; the wails61 of millions pierce my heart and chill my blood. I remember the chain, the gag, the bloody62 whip; the death-like gloom overshadowing the broken spirit of the fettered63 bondman; the appalling64 liability of his being torn away from wife and children, and sold like a beast in the market. Say not that this is a picture of fancy. You well know that I wear stripes on my back, inflicted65 by your direction; and that you, while we were brothers in the same church, caused this right hand, with which I am now penning this letter, to be closely tied to my left, and my person dragged, at the pistol’s mouth, fifteen miles, from the Bay Side to Easton, to be sold like a beast in the market, for the alleged66 crime of intending to escape from your possession. All this, and more, you remember, and know to be perfectly true, not only of yourself, but of nearly all of the slaveholders around you.
At this moment, you are probably the guilty holder45 of at least three of my own dear sisters, and my only brother, in bondage67. These you regard as your property. They are recorded on your ledger68, or perhaps have been sold to human flesh-mongers, with a view to filling our own ever-hungry purse. Sir, I desire to know how and where these dear sisters are. Have you sold them? or are they still in your possession? What has become of them? are they living or dead? And my dear old grandmother, whom you turned out like an old horse to die in the woods—is she still alive? Write and let me know all about them. If my grandmother be still alive, she is of no service to you, for by this time she must be nearly eighty years old—too old to be cared for by one to whom she has ceased to be of service; send her to me at Rochester, or bring her to Philadelphia, and it shall be the crowning happiness of my life to take care of her in her old age. Oh! she was to me a mother and a father, so far as hard toil42 for my comfort could make her such. Send me my grandmother! that I may watch over and take care of her in her old age. And my sisters—let me know all about them. I would write to them, and learn all I want to know of them, without disturbing you in any way, but that, through your unrighteous conduct, they have been entirely deprived of the power to read and write. You have kept them in utter ignorance, and have therefore robbed them of the sweet enjoyments69 of writing or receiving letters from absent friends and relatives. Your wickedness and cruelty, committed in this respect on your fellow-creatures, are greater than all the stripes you have laid upon my back or theirs. It is an outrage70 upon the soul, a war upon the immortal71 spirit, and one for which you must give account at the bar of our common Father and Creator.[336]
The responsibility which you have assumed in this regard is truly awful, and how you could stagger under it these many years is marvelous. Your mind must have become darkened, your heart hardened, your conscience seared and petrified72, or you would have long since thrown off the accursed load, and sought relief at the hands of a sin-forgiving God. How, let me ask, would you look upon me, were I, some dark night, in company with a band of hardened villains73, to enter the precincts of your elegant dwelling, and seize the person of your own lovely daughter, Amanda, and carry her off from your family, friends, and all the loved ones of her youth—make her my slave—compel her to work, and I take her wages—place her name on my ledger as property—disregard her personal rights—fetter the powers of her immortal soul by denying her the right and privilege of learning to read and write—feed her coarsely—clothe her scantily74, and whip her on the naked back occasionally; more, and still more horrible, leave her unprotected—a degraded victim to the brutal75 lust76 of fiendish overseers, who would pollute, blight77, and blast her fair soul—rob her of all dignity—destroy her virtue, and annihilate78 in her person all the graces that adorn79 the character of virtuous80 womanhood? I ask, how would you regard me, if such were my conduct? Oh! the vocabulary of the damned would not afford a word sufficiently81 infernal to express your idea of my God-provoking wickedness. Yet, sir, your treatment of my beloved sisters is in all essential points precisely82 like the case I have now supposed. Damning as would be such a deed on my part, it would be no more so than that which you have committed against me and my sisters.
I will now bring this letter to a close; you shall hear from me again unless you let me hear from you. I intend to make use of you as a weapon with which to assail83 the system of slavery—as a means of concentrating public attention on the system, and deepening the horror of trafficking in the souls and bodies of men. I shall make use of you as a means of exposing the character of the American church and clergy—and as a means of bringing this guilty nation, with yourself, to repentance84. In doing this, I entertain no malice85 toward you personally. There is no roof under which you would be more safe than mine, and there is nothing in my house which you might need for your comfort, which I would not readily grant. Indeed, I should esteem86 it a privilege to set you an example as to how mankind ought to treat each other.
I am your fellow-man, but not your slave.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
subsisted
|
|
| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
censure
|
|
| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
scruples
|
|
| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
laborer
|
|
| n.劳动者，劳工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
labor
|
|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
plausible
|
|
| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
forfeited
|
|
| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
concealment
|
|
| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
retirement
|
|
| n.退休，退职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
investigation
|
|
| n.调查，调查研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
undoubtedly
|
|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
emancipation
|
|
| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
lamenting
|
|
| adj.悲伤的，悲哀的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
stoutly
|
|
| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
undertaking
|
|
| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
confided
|
|
| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
appalled
|
|
| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
imbibed
|
|
| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
faculties
|
|
| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
lessened
|
|
| 减少的，减弱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
delusion
|
|
| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
emancipated
|
|
| adj.被解放的，不受约束的v.解放某人（尤指摆脱政治、法律或社会的束缚）( emancipate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
wharves
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
earnings
|
|
| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
runaway
|
|
| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
dreaded
|
|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
wharf
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
toiled
|
|
| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
garrison
|
|
| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
holder
|
|
| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
aspired
|
|
| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
benevolent
|
|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
excellence
|
|
| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
plantation
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
plantations
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
peculiarities
|
|
| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
industrious
|
|
| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
syllables
|
|
| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
rend
|
|
| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
nurture
|
|
| n.养育，照顾，教育；滋养，营养品；vt.养育，给与营养物，教养，扶持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
recital
|
|
| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
wails
|
|
| 痛哭，哭声( wail的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
bloody
|
|
| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
fettered
|
|
| v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
inflicted
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
alleged
|
|
| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
bondage
|
|
| n.奴役，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
ledger
|
|
| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
enjoyments
|
|
| 愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 )； 令人愉快的事物； 享有； 享受 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
outrage
|
|
| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
petrified
|
|
| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
villains
|
|
| n.恶棍( villain的名词复数 )；罪犯；（小说、戏剧等中的）反面人物；淘气鬼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
scantily
|
|
| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
lust
|
|
| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
blight
|
|
| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
annihilate
|
|
| v.使无效；毁灭；取消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
adorn
|
|
| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
virtuous
|
|
| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
assail
|
|
| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
repentance
|
|
| n.懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |