WASHINGTON IN 1862-3
In the summer of 1862, freedmen began to flock into Washington from
Maryland and Virginia. They came with a great hope in their hearts, and
with all their worldly goods on their backs. Fresh from the bonds of
slavery, fresh from the benighted regions of the plantation, they came
to the Capital looking for liberty, and many of them not knowing it when
they found it. Many good friends reached forth kind hands, but the North
is not warm and impulsive. For one kind word spoken, two harsh ones were
uttered; there was something repelling in the atmosphere, and the bright
joyous dreams of freedom to the slave faded--were sadly altered, in the
presence of that stern, practical mother, reality. Instead of flowery
paths, days of perpetual sunshine, and bowers hanging with golden fruit,
the road was rugged and full of thorns, the sunshine was eclipsed by
shadows, and the mute appeals for help too often were answered by cold
neglect. Poor dusky children of slavery, men and women of my own
race--the transition from slavery to freedom was too sudden for you! The
bright dreams were too rudely dispelled; you were not prepared for the
new life that opened before you, and the great masses of the North
learned to look upon your helplessness with indifference--learned to
speak of you as an idle, dependent race. Reason should have prompted
kinder thoughts. Charity is ever kind.
One fair summer evening I was walking the streets of Washington,
accompanied by a friend, when a band of music was heard in the distance.
We wondered what it could mean, and curiosity prompted us to find out
its meaning. We quickened our steps, and discovered that it came from
the house of Mrs. Farnham. The yard was brilliantly lighted, ladies and
gentlemen were moving about, and the band was playing some of its
sweetest airs. We approached the sentinel on duty at the gate, and asked
what was going on. He told us that it was a festival given for the
benefit of the sick and wounded soldiers in the city. This suggested an
idea to me. If the white people can give festivals to raise funds for
the relief of suffering soldiers, why should not the well-to-do colored
people go to work to do something for the benefit of the suffering
blacks? I could not rest. The thought was ever present with me, and the
next Sunday I made a suggestion in the colored church, that a society of
colored people be formed to labor for the benefit of the unfortunate
freedmen. The idea proved popular, and in two weeks "the Contraband
Relief Association" was organized, with forty working members.
In September of 1862, Mrs. Lincoln left Washington for New York, and
requested me to follow her in a few days, and join her at the
Metropolitan Hotel. I was glad of the opportunity to do so, for I
thought that in New York I would be able to do something in the
interests of our society. Armed with credentials, I took the train for
New York, and went to the Metropolitan, where Mrs. Lincoln had secured
accommodations for me. The next morning I told Mrs. Lincoln of my
project; and she immediately headed my list with a subscription of $200.
I circulated among the colored people, and got them thoroughly
interested in the subject, when I was called to Boston by Mrs. Lincoln,
who wished to visit her son Robert, attending college in that city. I
met Mr. Wendell Phillips, and other Boston philanthropists, who gave me
all the assistance in their power. We held a mass meeting at the Colored
Baptist Church, Rev. Mr. Grimes, in Boston, raised a sum of money, and
organized there a branch society. The society was organized by Mrs.
Grimes, wife of the pastor, assisted by Mrs. Martin, wife of Rev. Stella
Martin. This branch of the main society, during the war, was able to
send us over eighty large boxes of goods, contributed exclusively by the
colored people of Boston. Returning to New York, we held a successful
meeting at the Shiloh Church, Rev. Henry Highland Garnet, pastor. The
Metropolitan Hotel, at that time as now, employed colored help. I
suggested the object of my mission to Robert Thompson, Steward of the
Hotel, who immediately raised quite a sum of money among the dining-room
waiters. Mr. Frederick Douglass contributed $200, besides lecturing for
us. Other prominent colored men sent in liberal contributions. From
England[B] a large quantity of stores was received. Mrs. Lincoln made
frequent contributions, as also did the President. In 1863 I was
re-elected President of the Association, which office I continue to
hold.
For two years after Willie's death the White House was the scene of no
fashionable display. The memory of the dead boy was duly respected. In
some things Mrs. Lincoln was an altered woman. Sometimes, when in her
room, with no one present but myself, the mere mention of Willie's name
would excite her emotion, and any trifling memento that recalled him
would move her to tears. She could not bear to look upon his picture;
and after his death she never crossed the threshold of the Guest's Room
in which he died, or the Green Room in which he was embalmed. There was
something supernatural in her dread of these things, and something that
she could not explain. Tad's nature was the opposite of Willie's, and he
was always regarded as his father's favorite child. His black eyes
fairly sparkled with mischief.
The war progressed, fair fields had been stained with blood, thousands
of brave men had fallen, and thousands of eyes were weeping for the
fallen at home. There were desolate hearthstones in the South as well as
in the North, and as the people of my race watched the sanguinary
struggle, the ebb and flow of the tide of battle, they lifted their
faces Zionward, as if they hoped to catch a glimpse of the Promised Land
beyond the sulphureous clouds of smoke which shifted now and then but to
reveal ghastly rows of new-made graves. Sometimes the very life of the
nation seemed to tremble with the fierce shock of arms. In 1863 the
Confederates were flushed with victory, and sometimes it looked as if
the proud flag of the Union, the glorious old Stars and Stripes, must
yield half its nationality to the tri-barred flag that floated grandly
over long columns of gray. These were sad, anxious days to Mr. Lincoln,
and those who saw the man in privacy only could tell how much he
suffered. One day he came into the room where I was fitting a dress on
Mrs. Lincoln. His step was slow and heavy, and his face sad. Like a
tired child he threw himself upon a sofa, and shaded his eyes with his
hands. He was a complete picture of dejection. Mrs. Lincoln, observing
his troubled look, asked:
"Where have you been, father?"
"To the War Department," was the brief, almost sullen answer.
"Any news?"
"Yes, plenty of news, but no good news. It is dark, dark everywhere."
He reached forth one of his long arms, and took a small Bible from a
stand near the head of the sofa, opened the pages of the holy book, and
soon was absorbed in reading them. A quarter of an hour passed, and on
glancing at the sofa the face of the President seemed more cheerful. The
dejected look was gone, and the countenance was lighted up with new
resolution and hope. The change was so marked that I could not but
wonder at it, and wonder led to the desire to know what book of the
Bible afforded so much comfort to the reader. Making the search for a
missing article an excuse, I walked gently around the sofa, and looking
into the open book, I discovered that Mr. Lincoln was reading that
divine comforter, Job. He read with Christian eagerness, and the courage
and hope that he derived from the inspired pages made him a new man. I
almost imagined that I could hear the Lord speaking to him from out the
whirlwind of battle: "Gird up thy loins now like a man: I will demand of
thee, and declare thou unto me." What a sublime picture was this! A
ruler of a mighty nation going to the pages of the Bible with simple
Christian earnestness for comfort and courage, and finding both in the
darkest hours of a nation's calamity. Ponder it, O ye scoffers at God's
Holy Word, and then hang your heads for very shame!
Frequent letters were received warning Mr. Lincoln of assassination, but
he never gave a second thought to the mysterious warnings. The letters,
however, sorely troubled his wife. She seemed to read impending danger
in every rustling leaf, in every whisper of the wind.
"Where are you going now, father?" she would say to him, as she observed
him putting on his overshoes and shawl.
"I am going over to the War Department, mother, to try and learn some
news."
"But, father, you should not go out alone. You know you are surrounded
with danger."
"All imagination. What does any one want to harm me for? Don't worry
about me, mother, as if I were a little child, for no one is going to
molest me;" and with a confident, unsuspecting air he would close the
door behind him, descend the stairs, and pass out to his lonely walk.
For weeks, when trouble was anticipated, friends of the President would
sleep in the White House to guard him from danger.
Robert would come home every few months, bringing new joy to the family
circle. He was very anxious to quit school and enter the army, but the
move was sternly opposed by his mother.
"We have lost one son, and his loss is as much as I can bear, without
being called upon to make another sacrifice," she would say, when the
subject was under discussion.
"But many a poor mother has given up all her sons," mildly suggested Mr.
Lincoln, "and our son is not more dear to us than the sons of other
people are to their mothers."
"That may be; but I cannot bear to have Robert exposed to danger. His
services are not required in the field, and the sacrifice would be a
needless one."
"The services of every man who loves his country are required in this
war. You should take a liberal instead of a selfish view of the
question, mother."
Argument at last prevailed, and permission was granted Robert to enter
the army. With the rank of Captain and A. D. C. he went to the field,
and remained in the army till the close of the war.
I well recollect a little incident that gave me a clearer insight into
Robert's character. He was at home at the time the Tom Thumb combination
was at Washington. The marriage of little Hopo'-my-thumb--Charles
Stratton--to Miss Warren created no little excitement in the world, and
the people of Washington participated in the general curiosity. Some of
Mrs. Lincoln's friends made her believe that it was the duty of Mrs.
Lincoln to show some attention to the remarkable dwarfs. Tom Thumb had
been caressed by royalty in the Old World, and why should not the wife
of the President of his native country smile upon him also? Verily, duty
is one of the greatest bugbears in life. A hasty reception was arranged,
and cards of invitation issued. I had dressed Mrs. Lincoln, and she was
ready to go below and receive her guests, when Robert entered his
mother's room.
"You are at leisure this afternoon, are you not, Robert?"
"Yes, mother."
"Of course, then, you will dress and come down-stairs."
"No, mother, I do not propose to assist in entertaining Tom Thumb. My
notions of duty, perhaps, are somewhat different from yours."
Robert had a lofty soul, and he could not stoop to all of the follies
and absurdities of the ephemeral current of fashionable life.
Mrs. Lincoln's love for her husband sometimes prompted her to act very
strangely. She was extremely jealous of him, and if a lady desired to
court her displeasure, she could select no surer way to do it than to
pay marked attention to the President. These little jealous freaks often
were a source of perplexity to Mr. Lincoln. If it was a reception for
which they were dressing, he would come into her room to conduct her
downstairs, and while pulling on his gloves ask, with a merry twinkle in
his eyes:
"Well, mother, who must I talk with to-night--shall it be Mrs. D.?"
"That deceitful woman! No, you shall not listen to her flattery."
"Well, then, what do you say to Miss C.? She is too young and handsome
to practise deceit."
"Young and handsome, you call her! You should not judge beauty for me.
No, she is in league with Mrs. D., and you shall not talk with her."
"Well, mother, I must talk with some one. Is there any one that you do
not object to?" trying to button his glove, with a mock expression of
gravity.
"I don't know as it is necessary that you should talk to anybody in
particular. You know well enough, Mr. Lincoln, that I do not approve of
your flirtations with silly women, just as if you were a beardless boy,
fresh from school."
"But, mother, I insist that I must talk with somebody. I can't stand
around like a simpleton, and say nothing. If you will not tell me who I
may talk with, please tell me who I may _not_ talk with."
"There is Mrs. D. and Miss C. in particular. I detest them both. Mrs. B.
also will come around you, but you need not listen to her flattery.
These are the ones in particular."
"Very well, mother; now that we have settled the question to your
satisfaction, we will go down-stairs;" and always with stately dignity,
he proffered his arm and led the way.
[Footnote B: The Sheffield Anti-Slavery Society of England
contributed through Mr. Frederick Douglass, to the Freedmen's
Relief Association, $24.00; Aberdeen Ladies' Society, $40.00;
Anti-Slavery Society of Edinburgh, Scotland, $48.00; Friends at
Bristol, England, $176.00; Birmingham Negro's Friend Society,
$50.00. Also received through Mr. Charles R. Douglass, from the
Birmingham Society, $33.00.]