The little colored boys and girls of America should be proud to know, as
I suppose the little white boys and girls will be surprised to learn,
that the first clock of which every portion was made in America was made
by a colored man.
The colored children will also be glad to know, I think, that among the
earliest almanacs prepared for general use in this country were those
which were published for several years by this same colored man. His
name was Benjamin Banneker. I have found a good and true account of this
wonderful man in The Atlantic Monthly for January, 1863. I am going to
give a good portion of that account in this book, because I believe
every colored person in America should be acquainted with that man’s
history. The account says:
“Benjamin Banneker was born in Baltimore County, Maryland, near the
village of Ellicott’s Mills, in the year 1732. There was not a drop of
white man’s blood in his veins. His father was born in Africa, and his
mother’s parents were both natives of Africa. What genius he had, then,
must be credited to that race. When he was approaching manhood he went,
in the intervals of toil, to an obscure and remote country school. At
this school Benjamin acquired a knowledge of reading and writing, and
advanced in arithmetic as far as ‘Double position.’ Beyond these
rudiments he was his own teacher. Young Banneker had no books at all,
but in the midst of labor for a living he so improved upon what he had
gained in arithmetic that his intelligence became a matter of general
observation. He was such an acute observer of the natural world and had
so diligently observed the signs of the times in society that it is very
doubtful whether at forty years of age this African had his superior in
Maryland.
“Perhaps the first wonder amongst his comparatively illiterate neighbors
was excited, when, about the thirtieth year of his age, Benjamin made a
clock. It is probable that this was the first clock of which every
portion was made in America; it is certain that it was purely his own
invention as if none had ever been made before. He had seen a watch, but
never a clock, such an article not being within fifty miles of him. He
used the watch as a model for his clock. He was a long time at work on
the clock,--his chief difficulty, as he used often to relate, being to
make the hour, minute, and second hands correspond in their motion. But
at last the work was completed, and raised the admiration for Banneker
to quite a high pitch among his few neighbors.
“The making of the clock proved to be of great importance in assisting
the young man to fulfill his destiny. It attracted the attention of the
Ellicott family, who had just begun a settlement at Ellicott’s Mills.
They were well-educated men, with much mechanical knowledge, and some of
them Quakers. They sought out the ingenious negro, and he could not have
fallen into better hands. In 1787 Mr. George Ellicott gave him Mayer’s
“Tables,” Ferguson’s “Astronomy,” and Leadbetter’s “Lunar Tables.” From
this time astronomy became the great object of Banneker’s life, and in
its study he almost disappeared from the sight of his neighbors. He
slept much during the day, that he might the more devotedly observe at
night the heavenly bodies whose laws he was slowly, but surely,
mastering.
“Very soon after the possession of the books already mentioned, Banneker
determined to compile an almanac, that being the most familiar use that
occurred to him of the information he had acquired. To make an almanac
then was a very different thing from what it would be now, when there is
an abundance of accurate tables and rules. Banneker had no aid whatever
from men or rules; and Mr. George Ellicott, who procured some tables and
took them to him, states that he had already advanced very far in the
preparation of the logarithms necessary for the purpose.
“The first almanac prepared by Banneker for publication was for the year
1792. By this time his acquirements had become generally known, and
among those who were attracted by them was Mr. James McHenry. Mr.
McHenry wrote to Goddard and Angell, then the almanac-publishers of
Baltimore, and procured the publication of this work, which contained
from the pen of Mr. McHenry, a brief notice of Banneker. When his first
almanac was published, Banneker was fifty-nine years old, and had
received tokens of respect from all the scientific men of the country.
Among others, Thomas Jefferson, then Secretary of State under George
Washington, wrote him a most flattering and complimentary letter. In his
letter Jefferson said, ‘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 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.’
“Banneker continued to calculate and publish almanacs until 1802.
“Mr. Benjamin H. Ellicott, who was a true friend of Banneker, and
collected from various sources all the facts concerning him, wrote in a
letter as follows: ‘During the whole of his long life he lived
respectably and much esteemed by all who became acquainted with him, but
more especially by those who could fully appreciate his genius and the
extent of his acquirements.’
“Banneker’s head was covered with a thick mass of white hair, which gave
him a very dignified and venerable appearance. His dress was invariably
of superfine drab broadcloth, made in the old style of a plain coat,
with straight collar and long waistcoat, and a broad-brimmed hat. His
color was not jet black, but decidedly negro. In size and personal
appearance, the statue of Franklin at the library in Philadelphia, as
seen from the street, is a perfect likeness of him.
“Banneker died in the year 1804, beloved and respected by all who knew
him. Though no monument marks the spot where he was born and lived a
true and high life, and was buried, yet history must record that the
most original scientific intellect which the South has yet produced was
that of the pure African, Benjamin Banneker.”
The above is the story of that wonderful black man told in splendid
terms of high and well-deserved praise by a white man. Every little
black boy in America may well be fired with inspiration to do something
beyond the ordinary by reading the story of Banneker’s life.
“A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM.”
It is truly astonishing what a boy can do when once he has made up his
mind to do his best. Dr. Len. G. Broughton, the famous pastor of the
Tabernacle Baptist church, Atlanta, Ga., in a little book, which he
calls “The Modern Prodigal,” has told a very pathetic story about a
little boy. It is so true to life, and so typical of what a black or
white boy may do under similar circumstances, if he only decides for the
true and the right, that I have decided to reproduce the little story in
this book. It is well worth reading. Dr. Broughton says:
“Not long after I entered the ministry, I went to a certain town to hold
a series of meetings. It was one of these good old Southern towns, the
inhabitants of which banked on aristocracy and fed their souls upon the
glory of departed days. They had never known what it was to be
spiritually warm. The first night I was there I preached to a great
audience. It was in my early ministry, when I made many propositions.
The first one I made that night was for any one to stand who wanted
prayers offered for their friends. As soon as I made it a little boy got
up and walked out in the aisle, where he stood looking me square in the
face. I said, ‘God bless you, little man,’ and he sat down. I then asked
any one who wanted the prayers of God’s people to rise. That boy got out
in the aisle again and looked me in the face, and again I said, ‘God
bless you.’ I asked if there was anybody present who was willing to
accept Jesus. That boy stood up again and looked me in the face, and
again I said, ‘God bless you.’ Nobody else stood up that night, and I
began to think I had struck about the hardest and coldest crowd I had
ever run up against.
“The next night I preached as hard as I knew how to sinners, and when I
finished, I asked anybody who wanted to be prayed for to stand up. The
same little rascal popped out into the aisle, as he had done the night
before, and stood looking at me until I saw him and said, ‘God bless
you.’ I thought I’d vary the thing a little, so I asked if anybody
present was willing to come forward and give me his hand as an
indication that he would accept Jesus. That same boy came shuffling out
of his seat, straight down the aisle and gave me his hand. I saw smiles
on the faces of some in the congregation. Nobody but the boy showed any
interest, and I went off somewhat disheartened. The third night I
preached, and when I asked all who wanted prayer to rise, that boy
popped out into the aisle. The people had begun to regard it as a joke,
and they nudged each other with their elbows, while a broad smile flared
from one side of the house to the other. When I asked anybody who was
willing to accept Jesus to come and give me his hand, that boy came, and
the congregation smiled broader than before. After the meeting the
deacons came to me and told me that the boy must be stopped, as he was a
half-idiot, and was throwing a damper on the meeting. I said: ‘Stop
nothing! How are you going to throw a damper on an ice-house?’
“For the whole of that week that boy was the only person in the house
who showed any interest in the meeting. Then he wanted to join the
church. The pastor was absent, and I was to open the doors of the
church. The deacons came to me and said I must not receive that boy, as
he didn’t have sense enough to join the church. I said: ‘Look here,
brethren, I won’t take this responsibility on my hands. I’m going to put
that boy on you, and if you choose to reject him, his blood be upon your
hands.’ At the conclusion of the morning service, I invited all who
wanted to unite with the church to come forward. That boy came. I asked
him if he had accepted Christ for his personal Saviour. That’s all I
ever ask. He said he had. ‘Brethren,’ I said, ‘you hear what this boy
has to say. What will you do with him?’ An ominous silence fell on the
congregation. After a time, from ’way back by the door, I heard a
muffled and rather surly, ‘I move he be received.’ Another painful
silence followed, and then, from the middle of the church, I heard a
muffled, ‘I second the motion.’ When I put the motion, about a half
dozen members voted ‘aye’ in a tone so low that it seemed as if they
were scared. I gave the boy the right hand of Christian welcome awaiting
baptism, and then dismissed the congregation.
“The next day the boy went out to see his old grandfather, a man whose
whitened head was blossoming for the grave, and whose feet were taking
hold upon the shifting sands of eternity. ‘Grandfather,’ said he, ‘won’t
you go to church with me to-night and hear that preacher?’ We always
feel kindly towards those who are afflicted, you know, and are willing
to please them; so the old man agreed to go.
“That night I saw the boy and the old man sitting away back by the door.
When the sermon was finished, one of the members of the church arose and
said: ‘I have a request to make. We have with us tonight, Mr. Blank, one
of our oldest and most respected citizens, but he is out of Christ. I
want special prayer offered for this my special friend.’ With that he
laid his hand upon the head of the old man, down whose furrowed cheeks
the tears were streaming. The next night I saw the old man sitting about
half-way down the aisle. When all who wanted to accept Jesus were
invited to come forward and give me their hands, I saw the half-idiot
boy coming down the aisle leading the old man by the hand.
“That little boy’s father kept a saloon. The following day the child
went there, and climbing up over the high counter, he peeped down upon
his father and said: ‘Papa, won’t you go to church with me to-night to
hear that preacher?’ ‘You get out of here, child,’ said the father; ‘go
out of here; don’t you know you mustn’t come in here?’ Strange, strange,
how fathers will keep places where their children cannot go! ‘But,
papa,’ continued the boy, ‘won’t you go to church with me to-night?’
‘Yes; I’ll go, but you get out of here.’
“That night the man came with the half-idiot boy, and sat about where
the old man had sat the night before. When I asked all who would accept
Jesus to come forward, he walked down the aisle and gave me his hand. He
asked if he could make a statement, and when I said ‘Yes,’ he faced the
congregation and said: ‘My friends, you all know me, and I want to say
that so long as I live I will never sell another drop of whiskey, for I
have given my heart to God to-night, and from this day forward I propose
to serve him.’
“The meeting warmed up at last, the town was set on fire for God. Every
saloon keeper was converted and every saloon was closed. The feeling
spread and a saloon seven miles in the country was closed and the keeper
was converted to God.
“At the close of the meeting I sat on the front seat and saw the pastor
lead three generations into the baptismal waters, the old man in front,
his son behind him, and last in line the little half-idiot boy. The only
mistake that was made, to my mind, was that the boy who had led the
others to Christ should not have been first in line. Where is the little
half-idiot boy now? He has grown much brighter within the last few
years, and is now going to school. He says he wants to be and will be a
missionary.
“What a lesson for the young to-day. Persistent self-surrender, ever
doing the best we can, is a never failing way that leads to victory.”