Stay at Cincinnati (continued)--The Orphan Asylum--A Coloured Man and a
White Fop treated as each deserved--A Trip across to Covington--Mr.
Gilmore and the School for Coloured Children--"The Fugitive Slave to
the Christian"--Sabbath--Mr. Boynton--Dr. Beecher--Lane
Seminary--Departure from Cincinnati.
In the afternoon we went with Mrs. Judge B---- to see an Orphan Asylum,
in which she took a deep interest. Requested to address the children, I
took the opportunity of delivering an anti-slavery and
anti-colour-hating speech. The building, large and substantial, is
capable of accommodating 300 children; but the number of inmates was at
that time not more than 70. While the lady was showing us from one
apartment to another, and pointing out to us the comforts and
conveniences of the institution, the following colloquy took place.
_Myself._--"Now, Mrs. B, this place is very beautiful: I admire it
exceedingly. Would you refuse a little _coloured_ orphan admission into
this asylum?"
_The Lady._ (stretching herself up to her full height, and with a look
of horror and indignation),--"Indeed, we would!"
_Myself._--"Oh, shocking! shocking!"
_The Lady._--"Oh! there is another asylum for the coloured children;
they are not neglected."
_Myself._--"Ay, but why should they not be together?--why should there
be such a distinction between the children of our common Father?"
_The Lady._ (in a tone of triumph).--"Why has God made such a
distinction between them?"
_Myself._--"And why has he made such a distinction between me and Tom
Thumb? Or (for I am not very tall) why has he made me a man of 5 feet 6
inches instead of 6 feet high? A man may as well be excluded from
society on account of his stature as his colour."
At this moment my wife, seeing I was waxing warm, pulled me by the
coat-tail, and I said no more. The lady, however, went on to say that
she was opposed to slavery--was a colonizationist, and heartily wished
all the coloured people were back again in their own country. "In their
own country, indeed!" I was going to say,--"why, this is their country
as much as it is yours;" but I remembered my wife's admonition, and
held my peace. These were the sentiments of a lady first and foremost
in the charitable movements of the day, and regarded by those around
her as a pattern of piety and benevolence. She was shocked at the
notion of the poor coloured orphan mingling with fellow-orphans of a
fairer hue.
In the evening we went to take tea at the house of an English Quaker.
About half-a-dozen friends had been invited to meet us. These were
kindred spirits, anti-slavery out-and-out, and we spent the evening
very pleasantly. One of the company, in speaking of the American
prejudice against colour, mentioned a remarkable circumstance. Some
time ago, at an hotel in one of the Eastern States, a highly
respectable coloured gentleman, well known to the host and to his
guests, was about to sit down at the dinner table. A military
officer--a conceited puppy--asked the landlord if that "nigger" was
going to sit down? The landlord replied in the affirmative. "Then,"
said the fop, "_I_ cannot sit down with a nigger." The rest of the
company, understanding what was going forward, rose as one man from
their seats, ordered another table to be spread, and presented a
respectful invitation to the coloured gentleman to take a seat with
them. The military dandy was left at the first table, "alone in his
glory." When thus humbled, and when he also understood who the coloured
man was, he went up to him to apologize in the best way he could, and
to beg that the offence might be forgotten. The coloured gentleman's
reply was beautiful and touching,--"Favours I write on marble, insults
on sand."
On the morning of the 5th of March, the sun shining pleasantly, we were
tempted to cross over to Covington, on the Kentucky or slave side of
the river. Ferry-steamers ran every five or ten minutes, and the fare
was only 5 cents. At this place the Baptists have a large and important
college. Why did they erect it on the slave rather than on the free
side of the Ohio? This institution I was anxious to see; but I found it
too far off, and the roads too bad. Feeling weary and faint, we called
at a house of refreshment, where we had a genuine specimen of American
inquisitiveness.
In five minutes the daughter of the house had asked us where we came
from--what sort of a place it was--how long we had been in the United
States--how long it took us to come--how far we were going--how long we
should stay--and if we did not like that part of America so well that
we would come and settle in it altogether! and in five minutes more our
answers to all these important questions had been duly reported to the
rest of the family in an adjoining room. This inquisitiveness prevails
more in the slave than in the free States, and originates, I believe,
in the fidgetty anxiety they feel about their slaves. The stranger must
be well catechised, lest he should prove to be an Abolitionist come to
give the slaves a sly lesson in geography.
In the afternoon I went to see the school of the coloured children in
Cincinnati. This was established about four years ago by a Mr. Gilmore,
a white gentleman, who is also a minister of the Gospel. He is a man of
some property, and all connected with this school has been done at his
own risk and responsibility. On my venturing to inquire what sacrifice
of property he had made in the undertaking, he seemed hurt at the
question, and replied, "No sacrifice whatever, sir." "But what, may I
ask, have these operations cost beyond what you have received in the
way of school-fees?" I continued. "About 7,000 dollars," (1,500_l._)
said he. Including two or three branches, there are about 300 coloured
children thus educated. Mr. Gilmore was at first much opposed and
ridiculed; but that state of feeling was beginning to wear away.
Several of the children were so fair that, accustomed as I am to shades
of colour, I could not distinguish them from the Anglo-Saxon race; and
yet Mr. Gilmore told me even they would not have been admitted to the
other public schools! How discerning the Americans are! How proud of
their skin-deep aristocracy! And the author of "Cincinnati in 1841," in
speaking of those very schools from which these fair children were
excluded, says, "These schools are founded not merely on the principle
that all men are free and equal, but that all men's children are so
likewise; and that, as it is our duty to love our neighbour as
ourselves, it is our duty to provide the same benefits and blessings to
his children as to our own. These establishments result from the
recognition of the fact also, that we have all a common
interest--moral, political, and pecuniary--in the education of the
whole community." Those gloriously exclusive schools I had no wish to
visit. But I felt a peculiar pleasure in visiting this humbler yet
well-conducted institution, for the benefit of those who are despised
and degraded on account of their colour. As I entered, a music-master
was teaching them, with the aid of a piano, to sing some select pieces
for an approaching examination, both the instrument and the master
having been provided by the generous Gilmore. Even the music-master,
notwithstanding his first-rate ability, suffers considerable loss of
patronage on account of his services in this branded school. Among the
pieces sung, and sung exceedingly well, was the following touching
appeal, headed "The Fugitive Slave to the Christian"--Air,
"Cracovienne."
"The fetters galled my weary soul,--
A soul that seemed but thrown away:
I spurned the tyrant's base control,
Resolved at last the man to play:
The hounds are haying on my track;
O Christian! will you send me back?
"I felt the stripes,--the lash I saw,
Red dripping with a father's gore;
And, worst of all their lawless law,
The insults that my mother bore!
The hounds are baying on my track;
O Christian! will you send me back?
"Where human law o'errules Divine,
Beneath the sheriff's hammer fell
My wife and babes,--I call them mine,--
And where they suffer who can tell?
The hounds are baying on my track;
O Christian! will you send me back?
"I seek a home where man is man,
If such there be upon this earth,--
To draw my kindred, if I can,
Around its free though humble hearth.
The hounds are baying on my track;
O Christian! will you send me back?"
March 7.--This being the Sabbath, we went in the morning to worship at
Mr. Boynton's church. The day was very wet, and the congregation small.
His text was, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every
creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that
believeth not shall be damned." The sermon, though read, and composed
too much in the essay style, indicated considerable powers of mind and
fidelity of ministerial character. Although from incessant rain the day
was very dark, the Venetian blinds were down over all the windows! The
Americans, I have since observed, are particularly fond of the "dim
religious light." Among the announcements from the pulpit were several
funerals, which it is there customary thus to advertise.
In the afternoon I heard Dr. Beecher. Here, again, I found the blinds
down. The Doctor's text was, "Let me first go and bury my father," &c.
Without at all noticing the context,--an omission which I
regretted,--he proceeded at once to state the doctrine of the text to
be, that nothing can excuse the putting off of religion--that it is
every man's duty to follow Christ immediately. This subject,
notwithstanding the heaviness of the day, the infirmities of more than
threescore years and ten (74), and the frequent necessity of adjusting
his spectacles to consult his notes, he handled with much vigour and
zeal. Some of his pronunciations were rather antiquated; but they were
the elegant New England pronunciations of his youthful days. The sermon
was marked by that close and faithful dealing with the conscience in
which so many American ministers excel.
Professor Allen called to take me up to Lane Seminary, where I was to
address the students in the evening. The service was public, and held
in the chapel of the institution; but the evening being wet, the
congregation was small. I had, however, before me the future pastors of
about fifty churches, and two of the professors. I was domiciled at Mr.
Allen's. Both he and his intelligent wife are sound on the subject of
slavery. They are also quite above the contemptible prejudice against
colour. But I was sorry to hear Mrs. Allen say, that, in her domestic
arrangements, she had often had a great deal of trouble with her
_European_ servants, who would refuse to take their meals with black
ones, though the latter were in every respect superior to the former! I
have heard similar remarks in other parts of America. Mr. Allen's
system of domestic training appeared excellent. His children, of whom
he has as many as the patriarch Jacob, were among the loveliest I had
ever seen.
At 8 o'clock in the morning of the 8th of March I left Lane Seminary,
with a heavy heart at the thought that in all probability I should
never see it again. There was a sharp frost. Dr. Stowe accompanied me
to the omnibus. "All right!"--"_Pax vobiscum!_"--the vehicle moved on,
and directly the Doctor was at a distance of a hundred yards waving a
farewell. It was the last look.
At 11 A.M. myself, wife, baggage,--all were setting off from the "Queen
City" for Pittsburgh, a distance of 496 miles, in the Clipper No. 2, a
fine boat, and in good hands.