During the four years' war commencing 1861 the colored people fled
from bondage, and gathered in large numbers around Washington, and in
those parts of Virginia which were in possession of the United States
Government. Sometimes one thousand refugees came to the freedmen's
settlement in a week, and most of them had travelled on foot for
several days, with scant food and clothing. They rejoiced greatly when
they arrived at a place of refuge, and became free men and women. The
able-bodied men were employed by the Government, but the sick and
aged, the women and children, were cared for by different benevolent
associations of the churches at the North and West. The Religious
Society of Friends always cherished a deep feeling for the enslaved
people of color, and after sending agents to ascertain the condition
of the freedmen in the camps and quarters assigned to them by the
Government, they earnestly labored to feed, clothe and teach those for
whom they had long solicited the boon of freedom.
Believing some incidents and anecdotes from letters received from the
agents of Friends will be interesting to many, the following extracts
are presented:
"It is difficult to make a connected account of our visit among the
freedmen at Washington and elsewhere. We went into their cabins, the
tents, and the hospitals, looking into the condition of the poor
people congregated there. Their stories may be considered almost
trifling in themselves, and yet summed up as a whole--a people's
history--they tell the oft-repeated tale of sorrow, degradation, and
oppression in slavery; of hunger and cold, of sickness and suffering,
patiently and uncomplainingly borne, in their great struggle for
freedom. Every sacrifice, every privation seems insignificant compared
to the blessed boon of liberty, to them and to their children. 'The
good Lord Jesus has at last heard our prayers and sent Uncle Abram to
set us free.'
"They come to the Union as little children would to a parent, with
perfect confidence that they will be helped. The younger women mostly
had their children with them, but the older ones had all come off 'wid
'lations and friends.' In a severe snow-storm one thousand arrived,
with only the clothes on their backs. Their utter poverty is terrible.
During this storm we had not clothes for the children, who were crying
to get out of bed. Nine hundred came yesterday--all ragged; their
masters had not given them clothes, some for a year, others for two
years. All beg for Bibles."
* * * * *
"The rope-walk is a very long building divided into cabins; it is where
the refugees come at first. In each cabin live four or five families.
It is the most interesting place to visit. There are over five hundred
people there, fresh from slave-life, and rejoicing over their freedom.
Not being able to read, they often burst out as we are reading to them
with, 'Well, I never heard that before.'
"The beautiful doctrine of the golden rule seems almost new to them. It
is true the religious element is very strong in them, but their manner
of receiving it is very different from our ideas. Although they may
be what they call converted, they need plain words of moral truth for
every-day life. They have plenty of faith and thankfulness, but not
Christ's law of love in their hearts to govern every action.
"We stopped at a church and witnessed one of their religious
excitements--women all rocking their bodies and singing weird choruses;
then some one getting excited above the others, and throwing herself
about, jumping and screaming. We stayed until they were out, and all
down the aisles they sang and shouted--real fine, full voices, and the
words more strange than all. All the women had that swaying motion so
peculiar to them.
"The boxes were handed over to me on the 19th of January. From that
date to the 7th of May, I have given out twenty-six hundred and twenty
garments, large and small. For the last ten days we have been very
busy. During the last engagement on the battle-field, hundreds have
come, more than can possibly find shelter here. I have witnessed some
of the arrivals at the depôt. At the sound of the whistle, many anxious
hearts and longing eyes are seeking their friends. Here mothers find
their long-lost children. Husbands and wives, brothers and sisters,
meet after long separation. One good old mother here found six of
her children in one group. One poor mother, with seven children, was
inquiring for her husband: the answer was, 'he is dead!' The small-pox
left that record for this poor mother.
"We saw one noble-looking man, not far from seven feet high, in mere
rags and bare feet. Our No. 12's looked like baby-shoes beside them;
but I heard of a pair of No. 19 at the Commissary, which they were
very glad to exchange. The old man had had a hard master, and had been
driven off 'without food enough to cover a pin.' But I never saw such
a flash of joy as when I said, 'But, uncle, you have such a _good,
kind_ master now, and such a beautiful home up in heaven.' 'Oh, missis,
it's _that_, it's jest _that_, that's 'stained me all along.' They all
seemed so grateful, and we had a happy day indeed."
* * * * *
"They learn surprisingly fast; they were very anxious to learn to
reckon. I said I would repeat the multiplication table if they would
try to remember it. I repeated the 2's once, and they said it after me
in concert. I then questioned them, and though they had never heard it
before, quite a number remembered the whole.
"One little fellow in the school being asked if he knew his letters,
said, promptly, 'Yes, ma'am.'
"Well, what else do you know?
"Drawing himself up to his full height, which might be about four feet,
he replied, 'I know a heap.'"
* * * * *
"Freedman's Village, near Arlington, is really an attractive-looking
place; comfortable houses, nicely white-washed; a school-house, capable
of accommodating two or three hundred children, and a 'Home' for the
aged and infirm. Fervor and earnestness pervade the sermons and prayers
of the colored people here. One gave thanks for 'the glorious privilege
that we ain't all dead and shut up in hell.'
"Some of us might not have realized before that it was a glorious
privilege to be still left on earth, either as faithful servants, to
do the Master's bidding, or to become reconciled to Him before we were
snatched away with no alternative but to be 'shut up in hell.'
"You would have been touched to witness their grief at the death of
our beloved President. Every tenanted hut was decked with some badge
of mourning. Thousands went to look at their emancipator, as he lay in
state in the White House. Aunt Cicily, who bore the yoke of slavery
one hundred and ten years, looked on Mr. Lincoln with a reverential
feeling, beautiful to behold in one so aged--'for the privilege,' she
says, 'that he gave me to die free.'"
"Some old men who had learned to read while in slavery, said, 'We
toted massa's children to school, stayed all day, and then toted them
back. We learned to read, and massa didn't know it; and now we can
read de blessed Book ourselves. De good people of de North have been
bery good, bery good to us. Jesus tell dem to help de poor slave:
by-and-by we can help ourselves. We tank you all bery much!' Mother,
child, and grandchild sometimes go hand-in-hand to the school-room. The
stimulating motive with most of the adults is a fervent desire to read
the Bible."
* * * * *
"The marriage record kept among the Freedmen, shows that a large
part of the marriages, especially at first, were of those who had
lived together as husband and wife, perhaps many years, without an
opportunity to be legally united. One old man, of almost three-score
and ten, was thus joined in lawful marriage to his venerable wife. At
the conclusion of the ceremony, when the pastor extended his hand with
the nuptial benediction, and dismissed them with a short prayer, they
dropped on their knees together, their eyes streaming with tears of
thankfulness, and still kneeling, the old man reached out both arms and
hugged her to his heart, saying aloud, 'My dear old woman, I bless God
that I can now, for the first time, kiss my own lawful wife.'"
An agent, under date 5th month, 1863, writes:
"When I first wrote to thee, the supply of excellent clothing,
furnished by New York Friends, and other quarters, seemed so ample
that, to my eyes, the subject of further need, did not suggest itself.
I thought the time must come when such wants must be satisfied. But
that time dawns not yet. The hospitals for colored people are a heavy
drain on the clothing. Now, that the army advances, there are daily
arrivals of freedmen; they come with only the clothing they have on,
and must have a change to preserve health."