Brown ADM

The Christianity of Slave and Slaveholder

8 February 1993

In slavery, as in war, there exists a ÒGod-is-on-our-sideÓ mentality that

adds not only to the bitterness of the conflict, but also to its
longevity. Frederick Douglass in his narrative notes this divisive
phenomenon and uses it to anchor his graphic and emotional attack on
slavery and, by extension, the surface Christianity of the South. At the
same time, he sketches an entirely different picture of his own religion,
the Christianity of the slaves, which is a faith of hope and unity, not
of rage and oppression. For the slave holders, Christianity is a means
of deception by which they expect to dupe abolitionists, slaves,
themselves, and (for some) even God into believing that slavery is
rational and, perhaps more importantly, moral. DouglassÕ response, in
the form of his narrative, takes the Southern ÒpietyÓ to task and
illustrates the absurd paradox of Òthe man who wields the blood-clotted
cowskin during the week [and] fills the pulpit on SundayÓ (326-27). His
narrative is itself a kind of hellfire sermon that offers the almost
pornographic spectacle of whipped women and shotgunned men, but it also
is an informal study of the good Christian (Douglass himself) and the
fallen, false Christian (the various slave holders). He is instructive
without being moralizing; analytic without being pretentious. As a
whole, DouglassÕ narrative can be interpreted as the homily of an honest
Christian: it is his opportunity to reverse the roles of preacher and
ostracized parishioner. The narrative, however is by no means a
theological tract. It is instead an attempt to re-evaluate and to set
straight the often nebulous but always present relationship between
slavery and religion.
One of the primary uses of Christianity for southern landowners seems to
have been the justification of slavery. Rather than admit they supported
it for its economic prudence, they sought Biblical permission to behave
brutally and mercilessly toward the black man. William Lloyd Garrison
writes in his preface to the narrative that slave holders are, in effect,
Òman-stealersÓ (251) whose condition Òimplies absence of all fear of GodÓ
(250), but the slave holders did not see themselves as man-stealers; for
them, being a slave was by no means tantamount to being a man. Another
of GarrisonÕs remarks on DouglassÕs masters is far more emblematic of
Southern approach: ÒHow like a brute he was treated, even by those
professing to have the same mind in them that was in Christ Jesus!Ó
(249). By viewing slaves as beasts in need of a tamer, the slave masters
felt they could treat black men with the same mastery Adam used with the
creatures of Eden, wherein according to GodÕs famous declaration, man
should Òhave dominion...over all the wild animals of the earth, and over
every creeping thing that creeps upon the earthÓ (Gen 1:26). It became
the duty of the white man to fulfill the word of the Bible and control
the brutes. Douglass remarks that in their attempt to create a second
paradise on Earth, the slave holders succeeded only in building Òthe
hottest hell of unending slaveryÓ (294).
Once slave holders established the Biblical basis for originating
slavery, they again skewed the Bible to justify the institutions
continued existence. Even those holders who supported slavery without
regard to religion seemed to have found renewed enthusiasm after finding
Christianity. Mr Auld, for example, attends a Methodist retreat and
Òthere experienced religionÓ (287), an occasion which made him not more
Òkind and humane,Ó but rather Òmore cruel and hatefulÓ (287). The church
reinforced the holderÕs notions of moral justification and granted
legitimacy to their economic and egoistic arguments. Their deeply
personal feeling of mastery, of power, could be condoned by God, simply
through skewed interpretation of His word. As Douglass writes, ÒAfter
[AuldÕs] conversion, he found religious support and sanction for his
slaveholding crueltyÓ (287). Slavery, at bottom, is an ego trip fueled
by money and power; it is the drive for supremacy that masters could
attribute to God.
This egoism raises questions and obvious contradictions regarding the
mastersÕ relationship with God and the mortal sin of pride. DouglassÕ
discussion of the slave holdersÕ misconceived attempt to recreate
paradise is reminiscent of the Tower of BabelÕs failed construction, and
it is illustrative of the white aristocracyÕs attempts to reach up to
God, or at least back to Eden. ÒCome, let us build ourselves a city, and
a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for
ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the
whole earthÓ (Gen 11:1-9), suggested those immodest sons of Noah, until
God came and scattered them. The slave-breaking Mr Covey, Douglass
observes, diabolically calls himself Òthe snakeÓ (291) and Òseemed to
think himself equal to deceiving the AlmightyÓ (292), a dangerous
conclusion that flies in the face of 19th-century mainstream Christian
theology. Douglass connects the Biblical pride with modern-day pride when
he asks, ÒWill not a righteous God visit for these things?Ó (284).
GarrisonÕs language in his discussion of the mastersÕ pride is to a
degree indicative not only of NoahÕs descendants but also of Lucifer.
Describing slave-traders and their supporters as the Òfoe of God and
manÓ, he points out the Òabsence of all fearÓ known by those who Òexalt
the dealer in human flesh above all that is called GodÓ (250). He
consequently prays that Òheaven speed [slaveryÕs] eternal overthrowÓ
(250), just as Douglass, early in his narrative, discusses the ÒprophecyÓ
(257) of Òthe inevitable downfall of slaveryÓ, the collapse of the
hottest hell.
Despite GarrisonÕs talk of Òfoes of GodÓ and DouglassÕ of Òreligious
wretchesÓ (302), it is apparent from DouglassÕ narrative that the masters
felt morally superior to an infinite degree. Not only were black to them
beasts, but they were damned beasts, entitled only to a hard life and a
worse afterlife. Mr Thomas Lanman, a master whom Douglass knew but never
worked for, killed two slaves as part of his quest to eliminate the
Òdamned niggersÓ (269), and later Betsy Freeland would shout at Douglass
after a foiled escape, ÒYou devil! You yellow devil!Ó (309). It seems
one could even be damned by association, as the caulkers employed a
condemnatory tone in their ÒDamn the niggers! Damn the abolitionists!Ó
(314). Douglass picked up on this kind of language and weaves it into
his fictionalized account of his Aunt HesterÕs whipping. ÒHe then told
her to cross her hands, calling her at the same time a dÑd bÑh...then
said to her, ÔNow you dÑd bÑh, IÕll learn you how to disobey my orders.ÕÓ
(259). One can safely assume that a ÒdÑd bÑhÓ is a Òdamned bitch,Ó a
pejorative that captures the mastersÕ sentiment about their morally and
intellectually inferior slaves.
A parallel can be drawn between the way many whites understood their own
relationship with God and the way they viewed their relationship with the
slaves. They were the holy masters, the punishers of sin, the creators
of a new Eden. The slave holders Òwould at times take great pleasure in
whipping a slaveÓ (258), a description that could well fit the Edwards-
and-Mather influence on Christianity still felt in the South. Master
Auld, in his newfound rectitude, would preach as he bloodied a young
woman, ÒHe that knoweth his masterÕs will, and doeth it not, shall be
beaten with many stripesÓ (288).
The language directed at slaves in general was so widespread and so
damning, that Garrison felt inclined to almost redeem Douglass in the
preface. To Garrison, Douglass was Òcreated but a little lower than the
angelsÓ and even ÒgodlikeÓ (246). Garrison further implores that the
Northern whites Òbefriend him at all hazards, for the love of God,Ó and
finally hopes that Douglass Òcontinue to Ôgrow in grace, and in the
knowledge of GodÕÓ (247). It seems that the pervasive attitude toward
blacks, even in the North, was that they were intellectual and spiritual
retrogrades.
At the same time, however, Douglass began to develop a sense of his own
truer Christianity, a Christianity which offers him hope and the ability
to persevere. Contrary to the slave holdersÕ opinion, Douglass
evidently sees himself spiritually fit enough to be rewarded with a
Òspecial interposition of dive providence in [his] favorÓ (273) when he
is able to leave Colonel LloydÕs plantation. He concludes that despite
his possible superstition and egoism, Òthis good spirit was from GodÓ
(273). This reaction to certain events in his life sets the tone for
his Christianity. While the slave holderÕs religion is based on power
and justification, Douglass bases his on faith and salvation. The belief
that providence was at work in his life inspired him to believe that he
would not be a slave forever, and would Òcheer [him] through the gloomÓ
(273). This inspiration grew stronger when Òthanks to a kind Providence,
[he] fell to the portion of Mrs LucretiaÓ (283). He so closely ties his
faith in God with his hope for liberation, he commingles the two in a
kind of stream-of-consciousness cry of despair: ÒO God, save me! God,
deliver me! Let me be free! Is there any God? Why am I a slave?Ó
(294). Regaining his composure, he resolves that ÒGod helping me...there
is a better day comingÓ (294). So as with his reading of ÒThe Columbian
OratorÓ in which a slave wins emancipation through debate with his
master, Douglass builds his Christianity on the premise that Òthe power
of truth over the conscience of even a slave holderÓ (278).
The Christianity of the slave holders was an individual, selfish one,
while that of the slaves found it greatest moments in community. Knowing
the comfort Christianity offered him, Douglass tries to bring the same
hope to his fellow slaves. His first attempt at Sunday school was
dissolved after only three meetings. It is interesting that despite
their repeated reference to the Bible as justification for slavery, the
masters decided Bible school for the slaves was a dangerous thing.
Education, as Douglass says, is incompatible with slavery. DouglassÕ
second attempt at Sabbath school was far more successful. With Òat one
time over forty scholars...[those] were great days to [his] soul. The
work of instructing [his] dear fellow slaves was the sweetest engagement
with which [he] was ever blessedÓ (304). Despite all the problems
othersÕ interpretation of the Bible gave him, Douglass still sees the
Bible as a means of emancipation and a work of honor. At his narrationÕs
end, he offers the highest compliment he can give to a man Òquite worthy
of the name of ÔabolitionistÕÓ (322): ÒI was hungry and he gave me meat;
I was thirsty and he gave me drink; I was a stranger, and he took me inÓ
(323).
Douglass thought the theme of religion crucial enough to include an
appendix dealing exclusively with that topic. Its presence reasserts the
fundamental link between American slavery and American Christianity, and
it serves to further DouglassÕ argument that there is Òthe widest
possible differenceÓ between Òthe Christianity of this land and the
Christianity of ChristÓ (326). He attacks the Òreligious pomp and showÓ
of the slaveholding religion as the work of Òdevils dressed in angelsÕ
robesÓ (327) and quotes God in anticipation of the divinely aided fall of
slavery ÒShall I not visit for these things?...Shall not my soul be
avenged on such a nation as this?Ó (329). It is DouglassÕ fervent faith
in the justice of true Christianity that convinces him God will destroy
the work of the man-stealers.

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