39

LIFE AND TIMES OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 191

turn with the kindness and deference paid to white people. When I go to
church I am met by no upturned nose and scornful lip, to tell me— 'We don't
allow niggers in here.'

"I remember about two years ago there was in Boston, near the south-
west corner of Boston Common, a menagerie. I had long desired to see such
a collection as I understood was being exhibited there. Never having had an
opportunity while a slave, I resolved to seize this, and as I approached the
entrance to gain admission, I was told by the door-keeper, in a harsh and
contemptuous tone, 'We don't allow niggers in here.' I also remember attend-
ing a revival meeting in the Rev. Henry Jackson's meeting-house, at New
Bedford, and going up the broad aisle for a seat. I was met by a good deacon,
who told me, in a pious tone, We don't allow niggers in here.' Soon after
my arrival in New Bedford, from the South, I had a strong desire to attend
the lyceum, but was told, 'They don't allow niggers there.' While passing
from New York to Boston on the steamer 'Massachusetts,' on the night of the
9th of December, 1843, when chilled almost through with the cold, I went
into the cabin to get a little warm. I was soon touched upon the shoulder, and
told, 'We don't allow niggers in here.' A week or two before leaving the
United States, I had a meeting appointed at Weymouth, the house of that
glorious band of true abolitionists—the Weston family and others. On
attempting to take a seat in the omnibus to that place. I was told by the driver
(and I never shall forget his fiendish hate). 'I don't allow niggers in here.'
Thank heaven for the respite I now enjoy! I had been in Dublin but a few
days when a gentleman of great respectability kindly offered to conduct me
through all the public buildings of that beautiful city, and soon afterward I
was invited by the lord mayor to dine with him. What a pity there was not
some democratic Christian at the door of his splendid mansion to bark out at
my approach, 'They don't allow niggers in here!' The truth is, the people
here know nothing of the republican negro-hate prevalent in our glorious
land. They measure and esteem men according to their moral and intellectual
worth, and not according to the color of their skin. Whatever may be said of
the aristocracies here, there is none based on the color of a man's skin. This
species of aristocracy belongs preeminently to 'the land of the free, and the
home of the brave.' I have never found it abroad in any but Americans. It
sticks to them wherever they go. They find it almost as hard to get rid of as
to get rid of their skins.

"The second day after my arrival in Liverpool, in company with my
friend Buffum, and several other friends, I went to Eaton Hall, the residence
of the Marquis of Westminster, one of the most splendid buildings in