not look like a slave, or speak like a slave; and that they did not
believe he had ever been in the Southern States. To prove that he was
not an impostor he wrote and published an account of his life, with the
names of his masters and the places where they resided. The book was
ably written, and produced almost as great an effect as his lectures.
Slaveholders were very angry that one of their escaped chattels should
produce such an excitement. There was great danger that some of their
agents would kidnap him as he went about the country lecturing. It was
therefore concluded that he had better go to England. In 1845 he took
passage for Liverpool in the English steamship Cambria. He was invited
to deliver a lecture on deck. Some slaveholders from New Orleans and
Georgia, who were a little under the influence of brandy, swore they
would throw him overboard if he did; but the captain of the vessel
threatened to put them in irons if they behaved in a disorderly manner.
When they arrived in England they tried to injure Mr. Douglass by
publishing that he was an insolent, lying negro; but their efforts only
served to make him famous. He delivered a great number of lectures, and
attracted crowds everywhere. In the Free States of his own country he
had been excluded from many places of improvement, and often insulted on
account of his color; but he had no such prejudice to encounter in
England. He behaved like a gentleman, and was treated like a gentleman.
Many distinguished and wealthy people invited him to their houses, as a
mark of respect for his natural abilities and the efforts he had made to
improve himself. But he felt that his labors were needed in America, in
behalf of his oppressed brethren, and he wanted to return. His friends
in England entered into negotiations with Captain Thomas Auld for the
purchase of his freedom, which they succeeded in obtaining for little
more than seven hundred dollars.
After an absence of two years he returned to the United States a
freeman. He established himself with his family in Rochester, New York.
There he edited a weekly newspaper, called "The North Star," and from
time to time travelled about the country to deliver lectures, which were
always fully attended. After he was free he wrote a spirited letter to
his old master, Captain Thomas Auld, in which he asks: "What has become
of my dear old grandmother, whom you turned out, like an old horse, to
die in the woods? If she is still alive, she must be near eighty years
old,--too old to be of any service to you. O, she was father and mother
to me, so far as hard toil for my comfort could make her so. Send her to
me at Rochester, and it shall be the crowning happiness of my life to
take care of her in her old age." I never heard that any answer was
received to this letter.
During the Rebellion Mr. Douglass labored zealously to raise colored
regiments, and one of his sons enlisted in the service of the United
States. After the Proclamation of Emancipation he was invited to
Baltimore, where he delivered an address before a large audience of
respectable citizens. How different was free Maryland from the
Slavery-ridden State which he had left, secretly and in terror, nearly
thirty years before!
HOW THE GOOD WORK GOES ON.
In the spring of 1865 an association of colored men was formed in
Baltimore for moral and intellectual improvement. They bought a building
formerly used by the Newton University, for which they paid sixteen
thousand dollars. In honor of their able pioneer, Frederick Douglass,
they named it "The Douglass Institute." On the day of its dedication he
delivered an address before the association in Baltimore, in the course
of which he said: "The mission of this institution is to develop
manhood; to build up manly character among the colored people of this
city and State. It is to teach them the true idea of manly independence
and self-respect. It is to be a dispenser of knowledge, a radiator of
light. In a word, we dedicate this institution to virtue, temperance,
knowledge, truth, liberty, and justice."
DEDICATION HYMN.
BY J. M. WHITEFIELD.
Written for the Vine Street Methodist Episcopal Church of colored
people, in Buffalo, N. Y.
God of our sires! before thy throne
Our humble offering now we bring;
Deign to accept it as thine own,
And dwell therein, Almighty King!
Around thy glorious throne above
Angels and flaming seraphs sing;
Archangels own thy boundless love,
And cherubim their tribute bring.
And every swiftly rolling sphere,
That wends its way through boundless space,
Hymns forth, in chorus loud and clear,
Its mighty Maker's power and grace.
It is not ours to bear the parts
In that celestial song of praise;
But here, O Lord! with grateful hearts,
This earthly fane to Thee we raise.
O let thy presence fill this house,
And from its portals ne'er depart!
Accept, O Lord! the humble vows
Poured forth by every contrite heart!
No sacrifice of beast or bird,
No clouds of incense here shall rise,
But, in accordance with thy word
We'll bring a holier sacrifice.
Here shall the hoary-headed sire
Invoke thy grace, on bended knee;
While youth shall catch the sacred fire,
And pour its song of praise to Thee.
Let childhood, too, with stammering tongue,
Here lisp thy name with reverent awe;
And high and low, and old and young,
Learn to obey thy holy law.
And when our spirits shall return
Back to the God who gave them birth,
And these frail bodies shall be borne
To mingle with their kindred earth,--
Then, in that house not made with hands,
New anthems to thy praise we'll sing,
To Thee, who burst our slavish bands,
Our Saviour, Prophet, Priest, and King.
A PRAYER.
Grant, O Father, that the time
Of earth's deliverance may be near,
When every land and tongue and clime
The message of Thy love shall hear;
When, smitten as with fire from heaven,
The captive's chain shall sink in dust,
And to his fettered soul be given
The glorious freedom of the just.
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
WILLIAM AND ELLEN CRAFTS.
BY L. MARIA CHILD.
William Crafts is a black man, born in Georgia. His master had the
reputation of being a humane man and a pious Christian. Yet, when some
of his slaves were getting old, he had no scruples about selling them
away from their families, and buying a young lot. Among those sold were
the father and mother of William. They were sold to different purchasers
from different places, and never saw each other again. They were much
attached to each other, and it was a consolation to their son to think
how happy would be their reunion in another world; for he says he never
knew people who more humbly placed their trust in God than his parents
did. William was apprenticed to a cabinet-maker, and his brother to a
blacksmith; because slaves who worked well at a trade could be let out
with more profit to their masters, and would also bring a higher price
if sold. Before their time was out, their master became hard pressed for
money. Accordingly, he sold the young blacksmith, and mortgaged William
and his sister, a girl of fourteen. When the time of the mortgage was
up, their master had no money to redeem them, and they were placed on
the auction-block, to be sold to the highest bidder. The girl was sold
first, and bought by a planter who lived some distance in the country.
William was strongly attached to his sister; and when he saw her put
into a cart, to be carried away from him forever, it seemed as if his
heart would burst. He knelt down and begged and entreated to be allowed
to go and speak to her before she was taken away; but they handled him
roughly, and ordered him to stay on the auction-block. As he stood there
awaiting his own fate, he saw the cart moving slowly away. The tears
were rolling down his sister's cheeks, and she stretched her hands
toward him with a movement of despair. The thought that he could do
nothing for her, and that they might never meet more, almost killed him.
His eyes were blinded with tears; and when he could see again, the cart
was gone.
He was bought by the man to whom he had been mortgaged, and ordered to
return to the cabinet-maker's shop to work. After a while his new master
took him to Macon, where he was let out to work at his trade. There he
became acquainted with a quadroon girl named Ellen, whom he afterward
married.
Ellen was the daughter of her master, but her mother was a slave. Her
handsome dark eyes were apt to attract attention; her hair was straight,
and her skin was so nearly white that strangers often mistook her for
one of her master's own white family. This was very vexatious to her
mistress, who treated her so harshly that the poor child had no comfort
of her life. When she was eleven years old she was given to a daughter
of her mistress, who was about to be married to a gentleman living in
Macon. It was painful to part from her poor mother, but she was glad to
get away from the incessant cruelty of her old mistress. Her new
mistress proved more humane. In her service Ellen grew up without being
exposed to some of the most degrading influences of Slavery.
She and the intelligent young cabinet-maker formed an attachment for
each other soon after they were acquainted. But Ellen had seen so much
of the separation of families in Slavery, that she was very reluctant to
marry. Whenever William said anything about it, she reminded him that
they were both slaves; and that if they were married either of their
masters could separate them whenever they chose. William remembered,
with bitterness of heart, how his father and mother and brother had been
sold, and how his sister had been torn from him without his being
allowed to bid her good by. He had not been tortured in his own person,
but he had seen other slaves cruelly whipped and branded with hot iron,
hunted and torn by bloodhounds, and even burned alive, merely for trying
to get their freedom. In view of these things, he had a great horror of
bringing children into the world to be slaves. He and Ellen often talked
together about escaping to the North and being married there. But they
reflected that they would have to travel a thousand miles before they
could reach any Free State. They knew that bloodhounds and slave-hunters
would be put upon their track; that if they were taken, they would be
subjected to terrible tortures; and that, even if they succeeded in
reaching the Free States, they would still be in danger of being
delivered up to their masters. They talked over a variety of plans; but
the prospect of escape seemed so discouraging, that at last they
concluded to ask their owner's consent to their marriage; and they
resolved to be as contented as they could in the situation to which they
were born. But they were too intelligent not to know that a great wrong
was done to them by keeping them in slavery. William shuddered to think
into what cruel and licentious hands his dear wife might fall if she
should be sold by her present owners; and Ellen was filled with great
anguish whenever she thought what might happen to her children, if she
should be a mother. They were always thinking and talking about freedom,
and they often prayed earnestly to God that some way of escape might be
opened for them.
In December, 1848, a bold plan came into William's mind. He thought that
if his wife were dressed in men's clothes she could easily pass for a
white gentleman, and that he could accompany her on her travels as her
negro slave. Ellen, who was very modest and timid, at first shrank from
the idea. But, after reflecting more upon their hopeless situation, she
said: "It seems too difficult for us to undertake; but I feel that God
is on our side, and with His help we may carry it through. We will try."
It was contrary to law for white men in the Southern States to sell
anything secretly to slaves; but there were always enough ready to do it
for the sake of getting money,--especially as they knew that no colored
man was allowed to testify against a white man. William was skilful and
diligent at his trade; and though his wages all went to his master, he
had contrived to lay up money by doing jobs for others in extra hours.
He therefore found little difficulty in buying the various articles of a
gentleman's dress, at different times and in different parts of the
town. He had previously made Ellen a chest of drawers, with locks and
key; and as she was a favorite and trusted slave, she was allowed to
keep it for her own use in the little room where she slept. As fast as
the articles were bought they were secretly conveyed to her, and she
locked them up. The next important thing was to obtain leave of absence
for a few days. It was near Christmas-time, when kind slaveholders
sometimes permit favorite slaves to be absent on a visit to friends or
relatives. But Ellen's services were very necessary to her mistress, and
she had to ask many times before she could obtain a written permission
to be gone for a few days. The cabinet-maker for whom William worked was
persuaded to give him a similar paper, but he charged him to be sure and
return as soon as the time was up, because he should need him very much.
There was still another difficulty in the way. Travellers were required
to register their names at the custom-houses and hotels, and to sign a
certificate for the slaves who accompanied them. When Ellen remembered
this, it made her weep bitterly to think that she could not write. But
in a few moments she wiped her eyes and said, with a smile, "I will
poultice my right hand and put it in a sling, and then there will be a
good excuse for asking the officers to write my name for me." When she
was dressed in her disguise, William thought she could easily pass for a
white gentleman, only she looked young enough for a mere boy; he
therefore bought a pair of green spectacles to make her look older. She,
on her part, was afraid that the smoothness of her chin might betray
her; she therefore resolved to tie a bandage round her face, as if she
were troubled with toothache.
In four days after they first thought of the plan, all was in readiness.
They sat up all night, whispering over to each other the parts they were
to act in case of various supposable difficulties. William cut off
Ellen's glossy black hair, according to the fashion of gentlemen. When
all was carefully arranged, they knelt together and prayed that God
would protect them through their perilous undertaking. They raised the
latch of the door very softly, and looked out and listened. Nobody was
stirring abroad, and all was still. But Ellen trembled and threw herself
on her husband's breast. There she wept for a few moments, while he
tried to comfort her with whispered words of encouragement, though he
also felt that they were going forth into the midst of terrible dangers.
She soon recovered her calmness, and said, "Let us go." They stepped out
on tiptoe, shook hands in silence, and parted to go to the railway
station by different routes. William deemed it prudent to take a short
cut across the fields, to avoid being recognized; but his wife, who was
now to pass for his young master, went by the public road. Under the
name of Mr. William Johnson, she purchased tickets for herself and slave
for Savannah, which was about two hundred miles off. The porter who took
charge of the luggage at the station had formerly wished to marry Ellen;
but her disguise was so complete that he called her "Young massa," and
respectfully obeyed her orders concerning the baggage. She gave him a
bit of money for his trouble, and he made his best bow.
The moment William arrived at the station, he hid himself in the "negro
car" assigned to servants. It was lucky that he did so; for, just before
the train started, he saw upon the platform the cabinet-maker, who had
given him a pass for quite a different purpose than an excursion to
Savannah. He was looking round, as if searching for some one; and
William afterward heard that he suspected him of attempting to escape.
Luckily, the train started before he had time to examine the "negro
car."
Ellen had a narrow escape on her part; for a gentleman who took the seat
beside her proved to be Mr. Cray, who frequently visited at her
master's house, and who had known her ever since she was a child. Her
first thought was that he had come to seize her and carry her back; but
it soon became evident that he did not recognize her in a gentleman's
dress, with green spectacles, bandaged face, and her arm in a sling.
After the cars started, he remarked, "It is a very fine morning, sir."
Ellen, being afraid that her voice would betray her, continued to look
out of the window, and made no reply. After a little while, he repeated
the remark in a louder tone. The passengers who heard him began to
smile, and Mr. Cray turned away, saying, "I shall not trouble that deaf
fellow any more." To her great relief, he left the cars at the next
station.
They arrived at Savannah early in the evening, and William having
brought his master something to eat, they went on board a steamer bound
for Charleston, South Carolina. Mr. Johnson, as Ellen was now called,
deemed it most prudent to retire to his berth immediately. William,
fearing this might seem strange to the other passengers, made a great
fuss warming flannels and opodeldoc at the stove, informing them that
his young master was an invalid travelling to Philadelphia in hopes of
getting cured. He did not tell them the disease was Slavery; he called
it inflammatory rheumatism. The next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Johnson
was seated by the captain of the boat, and, as his right hand was tied
in a sling, his servant, William, cut up his food for him. The captain
remarked, "You have a very attentive boy, sir; but I advise you to watch
him like a hawk when you get North. Several gentlemen have lately lost
valuable niggers among them cut-throat Abolitionists."
A hard-looking slave-trader, with red eyes, and bristly beard, was
sitting opposite. He laid down a piece of chicken he was eating, and
with his thumbs stuck in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, said: "I
wouldn't take a nigger North under no consideration. Now, if you'd like
to sell that 'ere boy, I'll pay you for him in silver dollars, on this
'ere board. What do you say, stranger?" Mr. Johnson replied, "I do not
wish to sell him, sir; I could not get on well without him." "You'll
_have_ to get on without him, if you take him to the North," continued
the slave-trader. "I am an older cove than you are, and I reckon I have
had more dealings with niggers. I tell you, stranger, that boy will
never do you any good if you take him across Mason and Dixon's line. I
can see by the cut of his eye that he is bound to run away as soon as he
can get a chance." Mr. Johnson replied, "I think not, sir. I have great
confidence in his fidelity." Whereupon the slave-trader began to swear
about niggers in general. A military officer, who was also travelling
with a servant, said to Mr. Johnson: "Excuse me, sir, for saying I think
you are likely to spoil that boy of yours by saying 'thank you' to him.
The only way to make a nigger toe the mark, and to keep him in his
place, is to storm at him like thunder. Don't you see that when I speak
to my Ned, he darts like lightning? If he didn't, I'd skin him."
When the steamboat arrived at Charleston, the hearts of the fugitives
beat almost loud enough to be heard; they were so afraid their flight
had been discovered, and a telegraph sent from Savannah to have them
arrested. But they passed unnoticed among the crowd. They took a
carriage and drove to a fashionable hotel, where the invalid gentleman
received every attention befitting his supposed rank. He was seated at a
luxurious table in a brilliant dining-room, while William received some
fragments of food on a broken plate, and was told to go into the
kitchen. Mr. Johnson gave some pieces of money to the servants who
waited upon him; and they said to William, "Your massa is a big-bug. He
is de greatest gentleman dat has been dis way dis six months."
Notwithstanding the favorable impression he had made, Mr. Johnson found
some difficulty in obtaining tickets to Philadelphia for himself and his
slave. The master of the ticket-office refused to write the invalid
gentleman's name for him. But the military officer who had breakfasted
with him stepped up and said he knew the gentleman, and all was right.
The captain of the North Carolina steamer hearing this, and not wishing
to lose a passenger, said, "I will register the gentleman's name, and
take the responsibility upon myself." Mr. Johnson thanked him politely,
and the captain remarked: "No disrespect was intended to you, sir; but
they are obliged to be very strict in Charleston. Some Abolitionist
might take a valuable nigger along with him, and try to pass him off as
his slave."
They arrived safely at Wilmington, North Carolina, and took the cars to
Richmond, Virginia. On the way, an elderly lady in the cars, seeing
William on the platform, cried out, in great excitement, "There goes my
nigger Ned!" Mr. Johnson said, very politely, "No, madam, that is my
boy." But the lady, without paying any attention to what he said, called
out, "Ned, you runaway rascal, come to me, sir." On nearer inspection
she perceived that she was mistaken, and said to Mr. Johnson: "I beg
your pardon, sir. I was sure it was my Ned. I never saw two black pigs
look more alike."
From Petersburg, a Virginia gentleman with two handsome daughters were
in the same car with Mr. Johnson. Supposing him to be a rich,
fashionable young Southerner, they were very attentive and sympathizing.
The old gentleman told him he knew how to pity him, for he had had
inflammatory rheumatism himself. He advised him to lie down to rest;
which he was very willing to do, as a good means of avoiding
conversation. The ladies took their extra shawls and made a comfortable
pillow for his head, and their father gave him a piece of paper which he
said contained directions for curing the rheumatism. The invalid thanked
him politely; but not knowing how to read, and fearing he might hold the
paper upside down, prudently put it in his pocket. When they supposed
him to be asleep, one of the ladies said, "Papa, he seems to be a very
nice young gentleman"; and the other responded, "I never felt so much
for any gentleman in my life."
At parting the Virginian gave him his card and said: "I hope you will
call upon me when you return. I should be much pleased to see you, and
so would my daughters." He gave ten cents to William, and charged him to
be attentive to his master. This he promised to do, and he very
faithfully kept his word.
They arrived at Baltimore with the joyful feeling that they were close
upon the borders of a Free State. William saw that his master was
comfortably placed in one of the best cars, and was getting into the
servants' car when a man tapped him on the shoulder and asked where he
was going. William replied humbly, "I am going to Philadelphia, sir,
with my master, who is in the next car." "Then you had better get him
out, and be mighty quick about it," said the man; "for the train is
going to start, and no man is allowed to take a slave past here till he
has satisfied the folks in the office that he has a right to take him
along."
William felt as if he should drop down on the spot; but he controlled
himself, and went and asked his master to go back to the office. It was
a terrible fright. As Mr. Johnson stepped out he whispered, in great
agitation, "O William, is it possible we shall have to go back to
Slavery, after all we have gone through?" It was very hard to satisfy
the station-master. He said if a man carried off a slave that did not
belong to him, and the rightful owner could prove that he escaped on
that road, they would be obliged to pay for the slave. Mr. Johnson kept
up a calm appearance, though his heart was in his throat. "I bought
tickets at Charleston to pass us through to Philadelphia," said he;
"therefore you have no right to detain us here." "Right or no right, we
shall not let you go," replied the man. Some of the spectators
sympathized with the rich young Southerner, and said it was a pity to
detain him when he was so unwell. While the man hesitated, the bell rang
for the cars to start, and the fugitives were in an agony. "I don't know
what to do," said the man. "It all seems to be right; and as the
gentleman is so unwell, it is a hard case for him to be stopped on the
way. Clerk, run and tell the conductor to let this gentleman and his
slave pass."