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THE
FREEDMEN'S BOOK.
By L. MARIA CHILD.
O dark, sad millions,--patiently and dumb
Waiting for God,--your hour, at last, has come,
And Freedom's song
Breaks the long silence of your night of wrong.
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
[Illustration]
BOSTON:
TICKNOR AND FIELDS.
1865.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
L. MARIA CHILD,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
of Massachusetts.
UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO.,
CAMBRIDGE.
_TO_
THE LOYAL AND BRAVE
CAPTAIN ROBERT SMALL,
_Hero of the Steamboat Planter_,
THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY
L. MARIA CHILD.
TO THE FREEDMEN.
I have prepared this book expressly for you, with the hope that those of
you who can read will read it aloud to others, and that all of you will
derive fresh strength and courage from this true record of what colored
men have accomplished, under great disadvantages.
I have written all the biographies over again, in order to give you as
much information as possible in the fewest words. I take nothing for my
services; and the book is sold to you at the cost of paper, printing,
and binding. Whatever money you pay for any of the volumes will be
immediately invested in other volumes to be sent to freedmen in various
parts of the country, on the same terms; and whatever money remains in
my hands, when the book ceases to sell, will be given to the Freedmen's
Aid Association, to be expended in schools for you and your children.
Your old friend,
L. MARIA CHILD.
CONTENTS.
AUTHOR. PAGE
IGNATIUS SANCHO _L. Maria Child_ 1
EXTRACT FROM THE TENTH PSALM 12
PREJUDICE REPROVED _Lydia H. Sigourney_ 13
BENJAMIN BANNEKER _L. Maria Child_ 14
ETHIOPIA _Frances E. W. Harper_* 24
THE HOUR OF FREEDOM _William Lloyd Garrison_ 25
WILLIAM BOEN _L. Maria Child_ 26
ANECDOTE OF GENERAL WASHINGTON 31
PRAYER OF THE SLAVE _Bernard Barton_ 32
TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE _L. Maria Child_ 33
THE ASPIRATIONS OF MINGO _Mingo, a Slave_* 84
BURY ME IN A FREE LAND _Frances E. W. Harper_* 85
PHILLIS WHEATLEY _L. Maria Child_ 86
A PERTINENT QUESTION _Frederick Douglass_* 93
THE WORKS OF PROVIDENCE _Phillis Wheatley_* 94
THE DYING CHRISTIAN _Frances E. W. Harper_* 96
KINDNESS TO ANIMALS _L. Maria Child_ 97
JAMES FORTEN _L. Maria Child_ 101
THE MEETING IN THE SWAMP _L. Maria Child_ 104
A REASONABLE REQUEST _Peter Williams_* 110
THE SLAVE POET _George Horton, a Slave_* 111
RATIE _Mattie Griffith_ 114
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST _James Montgomery_ 123
PROGRESS OF EMANCIPATION IN THE
BRITISH WEST INDIES _L. Maria Child_ 124
THE LAST NIGHT OF SLAVERY _James Montgomery_ 146
MADISON WASHINGTON _L. Maria Child_ 147
EXTRACT FROM THE VIRGINIA BILL OF RIGHTS 154
PRAISE OF CREATION _George Horton_* 155
FREDERICK DOUGLASS _L. Maria Child_ 156
HOW THE GOOD WORK GOES ON 176
DEDICATION HYMN _J. M. Whitefield_* 177
A PRAYER _John G. Whittier_ 178
WILLIAM AND ELLEN CRAFTS _L. Maria Child_ 179
SPRING _George Horton_* 205
THE GOOD GRANDMOTHER _Harriet Jacobs_* 206
THE COLORED MOTHER'S PRAYER 219
WILLIAM COSTIN 220
EDUCATION OF CHILDREN _L. Maria Child_ 221
THANK GOD FOR LITTLE CHILDREN _Frances E. W. Harper_* 226
SAM AND ANDY _Harriet Beecher Stowe_ 227
JOHN BROWN _L. Maria Child_ 241
THE AIR OF FREEDOM _Frances E. W. Harper_* 243
EMANCIPATION IN THE DISTRICT
OF COLUMBIA _James Madison Bell_* 244
THE LAWS OF HEALTH _L. Maria Child_ 246
PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S PROCLAMATION
OF EMANCIPATION _Frances E. W. Harper_* 250
NEW-YEAR'S DAY ON THE ISLANDS
OF SOUTH CAROLINA _Charlotte L. Forten_* 251
SONG OF THE NEGRO BOATMEN AT
PORT ROYAL, S. C. _John G. Whittier_ 257
EXTRACT FROM SPEECH TO COLORED
PEOPLE IN CHARLESTON _Hon. Henry Wilson_ 259
EXTRACT FROM SPEECH TO COLORED
PEOPLE IN CHARLESTON _Hon. Judge Kelly_ 261
BLACK TOM _A Yankee Soldier_ 263
LETTER FROM A FREEDMAN _Jourdon Anderson_* 265
COLONEL ROBERT G. SHAW _Eliza B. Sedgwick_ 268
ADVICE FROM AN OLD FRIEND _L. Maria Child_ 269
DAY OF JUBILEE _A. G. Duncan_ 277
* The names of the colored authors are marked with an asterisk.
THE FREEDMEN'S BOOK.
IGNATIUS SANCHO.
BY L. MARIA CHILD.
This was the name of a remarkable African, who excited a good deal of
interest in his day. His father and mother were stolen from Africa and
put on board a slave-ship in 1729, which was one hundred and thirty-six
years ago. He was born during the passage, and when the vessel arrived
at Carthagena, in South America, he was baptized by the name of
Ignatius. His mother died soon after, and his father, seeing no means of
escape from slavery, killed himself in a fit of despair. The man who
took possession of the little orphan, and claimed to be his master,
carried him to England, and gave him to three unmarried sisters who
lived at Greenwich. He was then about two years old, a bright, lively,
funny little creature. As he grew older, he showed such an inquisitive
mind, said so many droll things, and was so full of mischief, that the
ladies named him Sancho, after a very comical character in a famous old
Spanish novel. He was very eager in the pursuit of knowledge; but this
commendable disposition was not approved by the ladies. They thought
that all a black servant had occasion to know was how to obey orders,
and that it was not necessary or proper for him to learn to read and
write. But nature had given Ignatius a very lively mind, and a very
susceptible heart, and neither of them could be kept quiet. He early
plunged into love affairs, and was always overrunning with fun and
frolic. Doubtless he was a great trial to the respectable maiden ladies,
who were training him for a servant; and he, on his part, thought them
very sour, severe, and disagreeable. Sometimes, when they were angry
with him, they reminded him that he had been a slave, and threatened to
send him into slavery again. This excited uneasiness in his mind, and
kindled resentment.
The Duke of Montagu lived in the neighborhood, and his attention was
attracted by the bright, frank countenance of the black boy. He entered
into conversation with him occasionally, and was so much struck by his
intelligence and wit, that he told the ladies their servant was a
remarkable lad, and that his earnest desire to improve his mind ought to
be gratified. They persisted in their opinion that knowledge was a very
improper and dangerous thing for a black servant. But the Duke
introduced him to the Duchess, and they both encouraged him to learn to
read and write. They lent him books, and were greatly entertained by his
bright remarks concerning what he read.
It was a great grief to Ignatius when the friendly Duke died. He
besought the Duchess to receive him into her service, and she consented.
He remained in her household as long as she lived. At her death, she
left him an annuity of about one hundred and fifty dollars a year; and
he had three hundred and fifty dollars, which he had laid up from his
wages. He might have made this sum the foundation of a comfortable
little property. But nature had made him very full of fun and frolic. He
had such lively manners, and uttered so many pleasant jokes, that his
company was much sought for. This proved a temptation too strong for
him. He accepted invitations to go to taverns, where he gambled away his
earnings. He had a great passion for going to the theatre; and his
conduct with regard to women was far from being correct.
But he soon saw the error of his ways, and resolved to reform. He went
to the Chaplain of Montagu House, and begged to be taken into his
service, where he remained several months. The descendants of his old
friend, the Duke, encouraged him to persevere in his good resolutions;
and when the young Duke saw that he continued sober and industrious, he
took him into his employ. By the blessing of the Heavenly Father,
another saving influence came to help him into the paths of virtue. He
formed a serious attachment for a very worthy young woman from the West
Indies, to whom he was soon after married. He remained in the employ of
the Duke of Montagu until he was about forty-four years old. Frequent
attacks of the gout, and clumsiness resulting from an hereditary
tendency to corpulence, rendered him unfit to continue in the service to
which he had so long been accustomed. His good friend and patron the
Duke assisted him to establish a small shop for groceries. By economy
and industry, he and his good wife managed to rear and educate well a
numerous family of children.
He always retained his love of learning, and was such a diligent reader,
that he was well acquainted with the current literature of that time. He
was treated with respect and attention by many intelligent and educated
people. Though not so full of fun as he was in his younger days, his
conversation was entertaining. The letters he wrote to various persons
abound with good sense, and show that he was very affectionate and
devoted as a husband and father. He evidently regarded his wife as the
best blessing of his life. In one of his letters to a friend he says:
"The hot weather does not befriend Mrs. Sancho, but time will, I hope.
If true worth could plead exemption from pain and sickness, she would,
by right divine, enjoy the best of health." On another occasion he
writes: "I can compare her to nothing so properly as a diamond in the
dirt. But, my friend, that is Fortune's fault, not mine; for had I the
power, I would case her in gold." Years later, he writes: "Dame Sancho
would be better in health, if she cared less. I am her barometer. If a
sigh escapes me, it is answered by a tear in her eye. I often assume
gayety to illume her dear sensibility with a smile, which twenty years
ago almost bewitched me, and which still constitutes my highest
pleasure. May such be your lot, my friend. What more can friendship wish
you than to glide down the stream of time with a partner of congenial
principles and fine feelings, whose very looks speak tenderness and
sentiment."
After a severe illness he wrote to a friend: "I had excruciating pains
and great lack of patience. Mrs. Sancho had a week of it. Gout did not
sweeten my temper. It was washing week, and she had to attend the shop.
God bless her, and reward her. She is good; good in heart, good in
principle, good by habit."
The children appear to have been the delight of his heart. He called
them "Sanchonettas," which would be the Italian way of saying Little
Sanchos. He was never tired of describing their little winning ways. At
the end of a letter to one of his friends he wrote: "Lydia trots about
amazingly; and Kitty imitates her, with this addition, that she is as
mischievous as a monkey." But little William, his youngest, was
evidently his pet. To another of his friends he wrote: "You cannot
imagine what hold little Billy gets of me. He grows, he prattles, every
day he learns something new. The rogue is fond of me to excess. By his
good-will he would be always in the shop with me. The little monkey! He
clings round my legs; and if I chide him, or look sour, he holds up his
little mouth to kiss me."
Ignatius Sancho had a very kind heart. It hurt his feelings very much to
see any animal tormented. He tried to get some laws passed to prevent
cruel market-men from abusing their donkeys; and he always tried to be a
friend to everybody that was in distress. In one of his letters he says:
"The joy of giving and of making happy is almost the attribute of a god.
There is as much sweetness conveyed to the senses by doing a right
good-natured deed as our frame can consistently bear."
Such a disposition is better than a remarkable intellect. But he had a
quick intellect also, and generally took sensible views of things.
Writing to a young colored friend, who had been somewhat wild, he
says:--
"Look round upon the miserable fate of almost all of our unfortunate
color. See slavery added to ignorance. See the contempt of the very
wretches who roll in affluence from our labors. Hear the ill-bred,
heart-racking abuse of the ignorant vulgar. If you tread as cautiously
as the strictest rectitude can guide you, you must suffer from this. But
if you are armed with truth and conscious integrity, you will be sure of
the plaudits and countenance of the good.
"You are a happy lad. You have kind benefactors, to whom you ought to
look up with reverence, and humbly beg the Almighty to give you strength
to imitate them in doing good. Your parts are as quick as most men's. If
you urge your speed in the race of virtue with the same zeal you have
exhibited in error, you will recover, to the satisfaction of your noble
patrons, and to the glory of yourself.
"Some philosopher, whose name I forget, wished for a window in his
breast, that the world might see his heart. I recommend him to your
imitation. Vice is a coward. To be truly brave, a man must be truly
good. You hate the name of cowardice; then detest a lie and shun liars.
Be above revenge. If others have taken advantage either of your guilt or
your distress, punish them only with forgiveness; and if you can serve
them at any future time, do it.
"I sincerely congratulate thee upon thy repentance. It is thy birthday
to real happiness."
To one of the white gentlemen who liked to correspond with him, he
wrote:--
"There is something so amazingly grand and affecting in contemplating
the works of the Divine Architect, either in the moral or the
intellectual world, that I think one may rightly call it the cordial of
the soul, the best antidote against pride and discontent. The friendly
warmth of that glorious planet the sun, the leniency of the air, the
cheerful glow of the atmosphere, make me involuntarily cry, 'Lord, what
is man, that thou, in thy mercy, art so mindful of him? or what is the
son of man, that thou so parentally carest for him?'
"Sometimes, when I endeavor to turn my thoughts inward, to review the
powers or properties the indulgent all-wise Father has endowed me with,
I am struck with wonder and with awe; poor, insignificant worm as I am,
in comparison with superior beings, mortal like myself. At the head of
our riches I reckon the power of reflection. Where doth it lie? Search
every member, from the toe to the nose,--they are all ready for action,
but they are all dead to thought. It is that breath of life which the
Sacred Architect breathed into the nostrils of the first man. We feel
and acknowledge it, but it is quite past the power of definition. Then
to think of the promise of never-ending existence! To rise, perhaps, by
regular progression from planet to planet, to behold the wonders of
immensity, to pass from good to better, increasing in goodness, in
knowledge, in love. To glory in our Redeemer, to joy in ourselves, to be
acquainted with prophets, sages, heroes, and poets of old times, and to
join in the symphony with angels."
To a white young friend, who had obtained a situation in India, he
wrote:--
"It is with sincere pleasure I hear you have a lucrative establishment.
Your good sense will naturally lead you to a proper economy, as distant
from frigid parsimony as from heedless extravagance. As you may have
some time for recreation, give me leave to obtrude my poor advice. I
have heard it more than once observed of fortunate adventurers, that
they come home rich in purse, but wretchedly barren in intellect. My
dear Jack, the mind wants food as well as the stomach. Why, then, should
not one wish to increase in knowledge as well as in money? The poet
Young says,--
'Books are fair Virtue's advocates and friends.'
My advice to you is, to lay by something every year to buy a little
library. You have to thank God for strong natural parts; you have a
feeling, humane heart; you write with sense and discernment. Improve
yourself, my dear Jack. Then if it should please God to return you to
your friends with a fortune, the embellishments of your mind may be ever
considered as greatly superior to your riches, and only inferior to the
goodness of your heart. This is a good old adage: 'A few books and a few
friends, and those well chosen.'"
The same young friend wrote a letter to his father, from Bombay, in
India, in which he wrote: "The inhabitants here, who are chiefly blacks,
are a set of canting, deceitful people, of whom one must have great
caution."
Ignatius Sancho was always ready to defend the despised and the
oppressed, and his sympathy was all the more lively if they were of his
own color. He at once wrote to his young friend:--
"In one of your letters to your father, you speak with honest
indignation of the treachery and chicanery of the natives of India. My
good friend, you should remember from whom they learned those vices. The
first visitors from Christian countries found them a simple, harmless
people. But the cursed avidity for wealth urged those first visitors,
and all the succeeding ones, to such acts of deception and wanton
cruelty, that the poor, ignorant natives soon learned their knavish
arts, and turned them upon their teachers. As a resident of your
country, Old England, I love it. I love it for its freedom. For the many
blessings I enjoy in it England shall ever have my warmest wishes,
prayers, and blessings. But I must observe, and I say it with
reluctance, that the conduct of your country has been uniformly wicked
in the East Indies, in the West Indies, and on the coast of Guinea. The
grand object of English navigators, and indeed of all the navigators of
Christian nations, has been money, money, money. Commerce was meant by
the goodness of Deity to diffuse the various goods of the earth into
every part; to unite mankind with the blessed bonds of brotherly love
and mutual dependence. Enlightened Christians should diffuse the riches
of the Gospel of Peace together with the commodities of their respective
lands. If commerce were attended with strict honesty and religion for
companions, it would be a blessing to every shore it touched at.
"The poor wretched Africans are blessed with a most fertile and
luxuriant soil; but they are rendered miserable by what Providence meant
for a blessing. The abominable traffic in slaves, and the horrid cruelty
and treachery of the petty kings, is encouraged by their Christian
customers. They carry them strong liquors, powder, and bad fire-arms to
inflame them to madness, and to furnish them with the hellish means of
killing and kidnapping. It is a subject that sours my blood. I mention
these things to guard my friend from being too hasty in condemning a
people who have been made much worse by their Christian visitors.
"Wherever thou residest, make human nature thy study. Whatever may be
the religion or the complexion of men, study their hearts. Let
simplicity, kindness, and charity be thy guides; and with these, even
savages will respect you, while God will bless you."
The writings of the Rev. Laurence Sterne, who was living in England at
that time, were well calculated to inspire humanity toward animals and
kindly feelings toward the poor. These writings were very popular, and
two of the characters conspicuous in them, called Uncle Toby and
Corporal Trim, were great favorites with the public. Ignatius Sancho
especially delighted in the writings of Sterne; and in 1776, when he was
about forty-seven years old, he addressed a letter to him as follows:--
"REVEREND SIR,--It would perhaps look like an insult upon your
humanity to apologize for the liberty I am taking. I am one of
those people whom the vulgar and illiberal call 'Negurs.' The first
part of my life was rather unlucky, as I was placed in a family who
judged ignorance to be the best and only security for obedience. By
unwearied application I got a little reading and writing. Through
God's blessing, the latter part of my life has been truly
fortunate, for I have spent it in the service of one of the best
families in the kingdom. My chief pleasure has been books. How very
much, good sir, am I, among millions, indebted to you for the
character of your amiable Uncle Toby! I declare I would walk ten
miles, in dog-days, to shake hands with the honest Corporal. Your
sermons have touched me to the heart, and I hope have amended it.
In your tenth discourse I find this very affecting passage:
'Consider how great a part of our species, in all ages, down to
this, have been trodden under the feet of cruel and capricious
tyrants, who would neither hear their cries nor pity their
distresses. Consider Slavery, what a bitter draught it is, and how
many millions are made to drink of it.'
"I am sure you will forgive me if I beseech you to give some
attention to Slavery, as it is practised at this day in the West
Indies. That subject, handled in your striking manner, would
perhaps ease the yoke of many; but if only of one, what a feast for
a benevolent heart! and sure I am, you are an Epicurean[1] in acts
of charity. You, who are universally read and as universally
admired, could not fail. Dear sir, think that in me you behold the
uplifted hands of thousands of my brother Moors. You pathetically
observe that grief is eloquent. Figure to yourself their attitudes,
hear their supplications, and you cannot refuse."
Mr. Sterne wrote the following reply:--
"July 27th, 1766.
"There is a strange coincidence, Sancho, in the little events of
this world, as well as the great ones. I had been writing a tender
tale of the sorrows of a poor, friendless negro girl, and my eyes
had scarce done smarting with it, when your letter, in behalf of so
many of her brethren and sisters, came to me. But why _her_
brethren or _your_ brethren, Sancho, any more than _mine_? It is by
the finest tints, and the most insensible gradations, that nature
descends from the fairest face to the sootiest complexion. At which
of these tints are the ties of blood to cease? and how many shades
lower in the scale must we descend, ere mercy is to vanish with
them?
"It is no uncommon thing, my good Sancho, for one half of the world
to _use_ the other half like brutes, and then endeavor to _make_
them so. For my part, I never look Westward, when I am in a pensive
mood, without thinking of the burdens our brothers and sisters are
there carrying. If I could ease their shoulders from one ounce of
them, I declare I would this hour set out upon a pilgrimage to
Mecca for their sakes. It casts a sad shade upon the world, that so
great a part of it are, and have so long been, bound in chains of
darkness and chains of misery. I cannot but respect you and
felicitate you, that by so much laudable diligence you have broken
the chains of darkness, and that by falling into the hands of so
good and merciful a family, you have been rescued by Providence
from the chains of misery.
"And so, good-hearted Sancho, adieu. Believe me, I will not forget
your letter.
"Yours,
"LAURENCE STERNE."
The last sickness of Ignatius Sancho was very painful, but he was
tenderly cared for by his good wife. He was fifty-two years old when he
died. After his death, a small volume was published, containing a number
of his letters, some articles he had written for newspapers, and an
engraved likeness of him, which looks very bright and good-natured. The
book was published by subscription, in which a large number of the
English nobility and some distinguished literary men joined.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Epicureans were the followers of a philosopher in ancient Greece who
taught that pleasure was the great object in life,--an excellent
doctrine, if confined to the highest kind of pleasure, which consists in
doing good.
EXTRACT FROM THE TENTH PSALM.
"The wicked in his pride doth persecute the poor. He hath said in his
heart, God hath forgotten; He hideth his face; He will never see it.
Thou _hast_ seen it; for thou beholdest mischief and spite, to requite
it with thy hand. The poor committeth himself unto thee; thou art the
helper of the fatherless. Lord, thou hast heard the desire of the
humble. Thou wilt cause thine ear to hear; thou wilt prepare their heart
to judge the fatherless and the oppressed, that the man of the earth may
no more oppress."
PREJUDICE REPROVED.
BY LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
God gave to Afric's sons
A brow of sable dye;
And spread the country of their birth
Beneath a burning sky.
With a cheek of olive He made
The little Hindoo child;
And darkly stained the forest tribes,
That roam our Western wild.
To me He gave a form
Of fairer, whiter clay;
But am I, therefore, in his sight,
Respected more than they?
No;--'tis the hue of _deeds_ and _thoughts_
He traces in his book;
'Tis the complexion of the _heart_
On which He deigns to look.
Not by the tinted cheek,
That fades away so fast,
But by the color of the _soul_,
We shall be judged at last.
BENJAMIN BANNEKER.
BY L. MARIA CHILD.
This remarkable man was born near the village of Ellicott's Mills,
Baltimore County, Maryland, in 1732. That was one hundred and
thirty-three years ago, when there were very few schools and very few
books in this country, and when it was not as easy as it now is for even
white people to obtain a tolerably good education. His parents were both
black, and though they were free, they were too poor to do much for
their bright boy. They sent him to a school in the neighborhood, where
he learned reading and writing and a little of arithmetic.
His father was a slave at the time of his marriage, but his wife was a
free woman; and she was so energetic and industrious, that she soon
earned money enough to buy his freedom. Then they worked together, and
earned enough to buy a few acres of land, and build a small cabin.
Benjamin was obliged to labor diligently when he was at home from
school, but every spare moment he could catch he was ciphering, and
planning how to make things. As his parents grew old, he had to work
early and late, to support himself and help them. His mother always
continued active enough to do the in-door work. When she was seventy
years old, if she wanted to catch a chicken she would run it down
without appearing to be tired. The place was thinly peopled, and the few
neighbors they had took no particular notice of Benjamin, though he had
the name of being a bright, industrious lad. His hands worked hard, but
his brain was always busy. He was particularly fond of arithmetic, and
was always working out sums in his head. He took notice of everything
around him, observed how everything was made, and never forgot one word
of what he had learned at school. In this way, he came to have more
knowledge than most of his white neighbors; and they began to say to one
another, "That black Ben is a smart fellow. He can make anything he sets
out to; and how much he knows! I wonder where he picked it all up."
At thirty years old, he made a clock, which proved an excellent
timepiece. He had never seen a clock, for nobody in that region had such
an article; but he had seen a watch, and it occupied his thoughts very
much. It seemed to him such a curious little machine, that he was very
desirous to make something like it. The watch was made of gold and
silver and steel; but Benjamin Banneker had only wood for material, and
the rudest kind of tools to work with. It was a long while before he
could make the hand that marked the hours, and the hand that marked the
minutes, and the hand that marked the seconds, correspond exactly in
their motions; but by perseverance he succeeded at last. He was then
about thirty years old. This was the first clock ever made in this
country. It kept time exactly, and people began to talk about it as a
wonderful thing for a man to do without instruction. After a while, the
Ellicott family, who owned the Mills, heard of it, and went to see it.
Mr. Elias Ellicott, a merchant in Baltimore, became very much interested
in the self-taught machinist. He lent him a number of books, among which
were some on astronomy,--a science which treats of the sun, moon, and
stars. Banneker was so interested in this new knowledge that he could
think of nothing else. He sat up all night to watch the planets, and to
make calculations about their motions. Mr. Ellicott went to see him to
explain to him how to use some of the tables for calculations contained
in the books he had lent him; but he found, to his great surprise, that
the earnest student had studied them all out himself, and had no need of
help. It was not long before he could calculate when the sun or the moon
would be eclipsed, and at what time every star would rise and set. He
was never known to make a mistake in any of his astronomical
calculations; and he became so exact, that he pointed out two mistakes
made by celebrated astronomers in Europe.
In order to pursue his favorite studies without interruption, he sold
the land which his parents had left him, and bought an annuity with the
money, on which he lived in the little cabin where he was born. He was
so temperate and frugal, that he needed very little to support him; and
when it was necessary to have more than his annuity, he could always
earn something by going out to work. But, as he was no longer seen in
the fields late and early, his ignorant white neighbors began to talk
against him. They peeped into his cabin and saw him asleep in the
daytime. They did not know that he had been awake all night watching the
stars, and ciphering out his calculations. In fact, they did not know
that the planets moved at all; and if he had told them that he could
calculate their movements exactly, they would only have laughed at him.
I suppose they felt some ill-will toward him because he was black, and
yet knew so much more than they did; and perhaps it excited their envy
that the Ellicott family and other educated gentlemen liked to go to
his cabin and talk with him about his studies and observations.
But Banneker was wise enough not to enter into any quarrels because they
called him a lazy, good-for-nothing fellow. He endeavored to live in
such a way that they could not help respecting him. He was always kind
and generous, ready to oblige everybody, and not at all inclined to
boast of his superiority.
When he was fifty-nine years old, he made an Almanac. It is a very
difficult job to calculate all about the changes of the moon, and the
rising and ebbing of the tides, and at what time the sun will rise and
set every day, all the year round; and it was a much more difficult task
then than it is now; because now there is a great improvement in
astronomical books and instruments. But notwithstanding Banneker's
limited means and scanty education, he made an excellent Almanac. It was
published by Goddard and Angell of Baltimore. In a Preface, they say:
"We feel gratified to have an opportunity of presenting to the public,
through our press, what must be considered an extraordinary effort of
genius,--a complete and accurate Ephemeris[2] for the year 1792,
calculated by a sable son of Africa. It has met the approbation of
several of the most distinguished astronomers of America; and we hope a
philanthropic public will give their support to the work, not only on
account of its intrinsic merit, but from a desire to controvert the
long-established illiberal prejudice against the blacks."
This was the first Almanac ever made in this country. It contained much
useful information of a general nature, and interesting selections in
prose and verse. Before it was printed, Banneker sent a manuscript
copy, in his own handwriting, to Thomas Jefferson, then Secretary of
State, and afterward President of the United States. After apologizing
for the liberty he took in addressing a person whose station was so far
above his own, he says:--
"Those of my complexion have long been considered rather brutish
than human,--scarcely capable of mental endowments. But, in
consequence of the reports that have reached me, I hope I may
safely admit that you are measurably friendly and well-disposed
toward us. I trust that you agree with me in thinking that one
Universal Father hath given being to us all; that He has not only
made us all of one flesh, but has also, without partiality,
afforded us all the same sensations, and endowed us all with the
same faculties; and that, however various we may be in society or
religion, however diversified in situation or color, we are all of
the same family, and all stand in the same relation to Him. Now,
sir, if this is founded in truth, I apprehend you will readily
embrace every opportunity to eradicate the absurd and false ideas
and opinions which so generally prevail with respect to us.
"Suffer me, sir, to recall to your mind, that when the tyranny of
the British crown was exerted to reduce you to servitude, your
abhorrence thereof was so excited, that you publicly held forth
this true and invaluable doctrine, worthy to be recorded and
remembered in all succeeding ages: 'We hold these truths to be
self-evident, that all men are created equal, and that they are
endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that
among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.'
"Your tender feelings for yourselves engaged you thus to declare.
You were then impressed with proper ideas of the great value of
Liberty, and the free possession of those blessings to which you
were entitled by nature. But, sir, how pitiable it is to reflect
that, although you were so fully convinced of the benevolence of
the Father of mankind, and of his equal and impartial distribution
of those rights and privileges which He had conferred upon them,
that you should at the same time counteract his mercies in
detaining, by fraud and violence, so numerous a part of my brethren
under groaning captivity and cruel oppression; that you should at
the same time be found guilty of that most criminal act which you
detested in others with respect to yourselves.
"Sir, I freely and most cheerfully acknowledge that I am of the
African race; and in that color which is natural to them I am of
the deepest dye. But, with a sense of most profound gratitude to
the Supreme Ruler of the universe, I confess that I am not under
that state of tyrannical thraldom and inhuman captivity to which so
many of my brethren are doomed. I have abundantly tasted of those
blessings which proceed from that free and unequalled liberty with
which you are favored.
"Sir, I suppose your knowledge of the situation of my brethren is
too extensive for it to need a recital here. Neither shall I
presume to prescribe methods by which they may be relieved,
otherwise than by recommending to you and others to wean yourselves
from those narrow prejudices you have imbibed with respect to them,
and to do as Job proposed to his friends,--'Put _your_ souls in
_their_ souls' stead.' Thus shall your hearts be enlarged with
kindness and benevolence toward them, and you will need neither the
direction of myself nor others in what manner to proceed.
"I took up my pen to direct to you, as a present, a copy of an
Almanac I have calculated for the succeeding year. I ardently hope
that your candor and generosity will plead with you in my behalf.
Sympathy and affection for my brethren has caused my enlargement
thus far; it was not originally my design.
"The Almanac is the production of my arduous study. I have long had
unbounded desires to become acquainted with the secrets of Nature,
and I have had to gratify my curiosity herein through my own
assiduous application to astronomical study; in which I need not
recount to you the many difficulties and disadvantages I have had
to encounter. I conclude by subscribing myself, with the most
profound respect, your most humble servant,
"B. BANNEKER."
To this letter Jefferson made the following reply:--
"SIR,--I thank you sincerely for your letter, and for the Almanac
it contained. Nobody wishes more than I do to see such proofs as
you exhibit that Nature has given to our black brethren talents
equal to those of the other colors of men, and that the appearance
of a want of them is owing only to the degraded condition of their
existence, both in Africa and America. I can add, with truth, that
no one wishes more ardently to see a good system commenced for
raising the condition, both of their body and mind, to what it
ought to be, as fast as the imbecility of their present existence,
and other circumstances which cannot be neglected, will admit. I
have taken the liberty of sending your Almanac to Monsieur
Condorcet, Secretary of the Academy of Sciences at Paris, and to
members of the Philanthropic Society, because I considered it a
document to which your whole color had a right, for their
justification against the doubts which have been entertained of
them. I am, with great esteem, sir, your most obedient servant,
"THOMAS JEFFERSON."
In 1803, Mr. Jefferson invited the astronomer to visit him at
Monticello, but the increasing infirmities of age made it imprudent to
undertake the journey. His Almanacs sold well for ten years, and the
income, added to his annuity, gave him a very comfortable support; and
what was a still greater satisfaction to him was the consciousness of
doing something to help the cause of his oppressed people, by proving to
the world that Nature had endowed them with good capacities.
After 1802 he found himself too old to calculate any more Almanacs, but
as long as he lived he continued to be deeply interested in his various
studies.
He was well informed on many other subjects besides arithmetic and
astronomy. He was a great reader of history; and he kept a Journal,
which shows that he was a close observer of the vegetable world, of the
habits of insects, and of the operations of Nature in general. That his
busy mind drew inferences from what he observed is evident from the
following entry in his Journal:--
"Standing at my door to-day, I heard the discharge of a gun, and in four
or five seconds of time the small shots came rattling about me, which
plainly demonstrates that the velocity of sound is greater than that of
a common bullet."
After the Constitution of the United States was adopted, in 1789,
commissioners were appointed to determine the boundaries of the District
of Columbia. They invited Banneker to be present and assist them in
running the lines; and he was treated by them with as much respect as
if he had been of their own color. His Almanacs were much praised by
scientific men, and they often visited him in his humble little cabin.
But these attentions never made him pert and vain. He rejoiced in his
abilities and acquisitions, because he thought they might help to raise
the condition of his oppressed brethren; but he always remained modest
and unobtrusive in his manners.
He died in 1804, in the seventy-second year of his age. His friend, Mr.
Benjamin H. Ellicott, collected various facts concerning him, which have
been published. In a letter on this subject, Mr. Ellicott says: "During
the whole of his long life he lived respectably, and was much esteemed
by all who became acquainted with him; more especially by those who
could fully appreciate his genius and the extent of his acquirements.
His mode of life was extremely regular and retired. Having never
married, he lived alone, cooking his own victuals and washing his own
clothes. He was scarcely ever absent from home, yet there was nothing
misanthropic in his character. A gentleman who knew him speaks of him
thus: 'I recollect him well. He was a brave-looking, pleasant man, with
something very noble in his appearance. His mind was evidently much
engrossed in his calculations, but he was glad to receive the visits we
often paid him.' Another writes: 'When I was a boy, I became very much
interested in him. His manners were those of a perfect gentleman. He was
kind, generous, hospitable, humane, dignified, and pleasing. He abounded
in information on all the various subjects and incidents of the day, was
very modest and unassuming, and delighted in society at his own house.
Go there when you would, by day or night, there was constantly in the
middle of the floor a large table covered with books and papers. As he
was an eminent mathematician, he was constantly in correspondence with
other mathematicians in this country, with whom there was an interchange
of questions of difficult solution. His head was covered with thick
white hair, which gave him a venerable appearance. His dress was
uniformly of superfine drab broadcloth, made in the old style of a plain
coat with strait collar, a long waistcoat, and a broad-brimmed hat. His
color was not jet black, but decidedly negro. In size and personal
appearance he bore a strong resemblance to the statue of Benjamin
Franklin, at the Library in Philadelphia.'"
The good which Banneker did to the cause of his colored brethren did not
cease with his life. When the Abbe Gregoire pleaded for emancipation in
France, and when Wilberforce afterward labored for the same cause in
England, the abilities and character of the black astronomer were
brought forward as an argument against the enslavement of his race; and,
from that day to this, the friends of freedom have quoted him everywhere
as a proof of the mental capacity of Africans.
* * * * *
"They _found_ them slaves! but who that title _gave_?
The God of Nature never formed a slave!
Though fraud or force acquire a master's name,
Nature and justice must remain the same;--
Nature imprints upon whate'er we see,
That has a heart and life in it, BE FREE!"
COWPER.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] A daily journal of the state of the planets.
ETHIOPIA.
BY FRANCES E. W. HARPER.
Yes, Ethiopia yet shall stretch
Her bleeding hands abroad;
Her cry of agony shall reach
Up to the throne of God.
The tyrant's yoke from off her neck,
His fetters from her soul,
The mighty hand of God shall break,
And spurn the base control.
Redeemed from dust and freed from chains,
Her sons shall lift their eyes;
From cloud-capt hills and verdant plains
Shall shouts of triumph rise.
Upon her dark, despairing brow
Shall play a smile of peace;
For God shall bend unto her woe,
And bid her sorrows cease.
'Neath sheltering vines and stately palms
Shall laughing children play,
And aged sires with joyous psalms
Shall gladden every day.
Secure by night, and blest by day,
Shall pass her happy hours;
Nor human tigers hunt for prey
Within her peaceful bowers.
Then, Ethiopia, stretch, O stretch
Thy bleeding hands abroad!
Thy cry of agony shall reach
And find redress from God.
THE HOUR OF FREEDOM.[3]
BY WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
The hour of freedom! come it must.
O hasten it, in mercy, Heaven!
When all who grovel in the dust
Shall stand erect, their fetters riven;
When glorious freedom shall be won
By every caste, complexion, clime;
When tyranny shall be o'erthrown,
And _color_ cease to be a _crime_.
FOOTNOTE:
[3] Written in 1832.
WILLIAM BOEN.
BY L. MARIA CHILD.
William Boen was born in 1735, one hundred and thirty years ago. He was
the slave of a man who lived near Mount Holly, in New Jersey. His master
and most of the neighbors belonged to the Society of Friends, commonly
called Quakers. That Society made it a rule that none of their members
should hold a slave, long before the people of any other sect were
convinced that slavery was wrong. But at the time William Boen was born
some of the Quakers did hold slaves, though many of their members were
preaching against it.
They were a very friendly and conscientious people, and as William grew
up among them he naturally imbibed many of their ideas. However, like
most boys, he did not think very seriously about religion, until the
importance of it was impressed upon his mind by the following
circumstance. In the time of the old French war, when he was a mere lad,
his master sent him into the woods to cut down trees. The Indians were
fighting on the side of the French, and they often killed the Americans.
Some of them came into the neighborhood of Mount Holly; and when he went
home at night, after his day's work in the woods, he would often hear
that Indians had been lurking about in the neighborhood, and that
somebody had been shot by their sharp arrows. This made him very much
afraid to work alone in the woods. He was always thinking that Indians
might be hidden among the bushes; and if a bird flew off her nest it
sounded to him like the whizzing of an arrow. It was very still in the
forest, and it seemed very solemn to look up at the sky through the tall
trees. William thought to himself, "What if the Indians should kill me
before I have any time to think about it? Am I fit to die?" He thought
he was not fit to die, and he longed earnestly to know what he ought to
do to become fit to die. He had heard the Quakers talk about a light
which God had placed in the soul, to show men what was wrong. And he
said it went through his mind "like a flaming sword," that if he would
be fit to die he must follow this inward light in every particular, even
in the most trifling things. So he began to be very thoughtful about
every action of his life; and if he felt uneasy about anything he was
tempted to do, he said to himself, "This is the inward light, showing me
that the thing is wrong. I will not do it." Pursuing this course, he
became careful not to do anything which did not bring peace to his soul;
and as the soul can never be peaceful when it disobeys God, he was
continually travelling toward Zion while he strove to follow this inward
light in his soul; and the more humbly he tried to follow it, the
clearer the light became. He did not always keep in the straight path.
Sometimes he did or said something wrong; then peace went away from his
mind. But he confessed his sin before God, and prayed for strength not
to do wrong any more. By humility and obedience he again found the path
of peace. Religion comes in many different ways to human souls. This was
the way it came to William Boen.
All who knew him saw that his religious feeling was deep and sincere,
for it brought forth fruit in his daily life. He never made others
unhappy by indulging freaks of temper. He was extremely temperate,
scrupulously honest, and very careful never to say anything but the
exact truth. His character was so excellent that all the neighbors
respected and trusted him. Many said it was a shame to keep him in
slavery, and his master became uneasy about it. People said to him, from
time to time, "William, thy master talks of letting thee be free." He
heard it so often, that it became an old story, and he thought nothing
would ever come of it. But one day his master was walking with him as he
went to his work in the fields, and suddenly he inquired whether he
would like to be free. William was silent for a while, and then began to
talk about the work he was to do. But the question dwelt on his mind and
excited his hopes. He told one of his friends about it, and when he was
asked, "What didst thou say, William?" he replied, "I did not say
anything; for I thought he might _know_ I would like to be free."
When he was nearly twenty-eight years old his master offered to make a
contract with him by which he could obtain his freedom. He was soon
after married to a worthy young woman, and by industry and strict
economy they were able in a few years to buy a few acres of land, and
build a comfortable house. He led a peaceful and diligent life, doing
good to others whenever he could, and harming no one. His conscience was
extremely tender. He would never eat anything made of sugar manufactured
by slaves, and he never would wear any garments made of cotton raised by
slave labor. He thought Slavery was so wrong, that he did not feel easy
to connect himself with it, even in the remotest degree.
He was equally scrupulous about telling the truth. One of his
neighbors, a rich white man, was very much in the habit of borrowing his
tools. One day, when he had been using his grindstone, he thanked him
for it, and William answered, in the customary way, "Thou art welcome."
But soon he began to ask himself, "Was that the exact truth?" His mind
was troubled by doubts about it, and finally he went to his neighbor,
and said, "When I told thee thou wert welcome, I spoke mere
complimentary words, according to custom; for the truth is, I do
honestly think thou art better able to have a grindstone of thy own,
than I am."