After the rebels were in undisputed possession of the fort, and the survivors had surrendered, they commenced the indiscriminate butchery of all the Federal soldiery. The colored soldiers threw down their guns, and raised their arms, in token of surrender; but not the least attention was paid to it. They continued to shoot down all they found. A number of them, finding no quarter was given, ran over the bluff to the river, and tried to conceal themselves under the bank and in the bushes, where they were pursued by the rebel savages, whom they implored to spare their lives. Their appeals were made in vain; and they were all shot down in cold blood, and, in full sight of the gunboat, chased and shot down like dogs. In passing up the bank of the river, fifty dead might be counted strewed along. One had crawled into a hollow log, and was killed in it; another had got over the bank into the river, and had got on a board that ran out into the water. He lay on it on his face, with his feet in the water. He lay there, when exposed, stark and stiff. Several had tried to hide in crevices made by the falling bank, and could not be seen without difficulty; but they were singled out, and killed. From the best information to be had, the white soldiers were, to a very considerable extent, treated in the same way.
We now record an account of the battle of Honey Hill, South Carolina, and one of the most famous engagements in which the blacks fought during the war.
Honey Hill is about two and a half miles east of the village of Grahamville, Beaufort District. On the crest of this, where the road or the highway strikes it, is a semicircular line of earthworks, defective, though, in construction, as they are too high for infantry, and have little or no exterior slope. These works formed the centre of the rebel lines; while their left reached up into the pinelands, and their right along a line of fence that skirted the swamp below the batteries. They commanded fully the road in front as it passes through the swamp at the base of the hill, and only some fifty or sixty yards distant. Through the swamp runs a small creek, which spreads up and down the roads for some thirty or forty yards, but is quite shallow the entire distance. Some sixty yards beyond the creek, the main road turns off to the left, making an obtuse angle; while another and smaller road makes off to the right from the same point.
The Union forces consisted of six thousand troops, artillery, cavalry, and infantry, all told, under the command of Major-General J. G. Foster, General John P. Hatch having the immediate command. The First Brigade, under General E. E. Potter, was composed of the Fifty-sixth and One Hundred and Forty-fourth United States, Twenty-fifth Ohio, and Thirty-fourth and Thirty-fifth United States (colored). The Second Brigade, under Colonel A. S. Hartwell, was composed of the Fifty-fourth and Fifty-fifth Massachusetts, and Twenty-sixth and Thirty-second United States (colored). Colonel E. P. Hallowell, of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts, had, in spite of his express desire, been left behind in command of Morris and Folly Islands. As at the battle of Olustee, the enemy was met in small numbers some three or four miles from his base. The Union forces approached the fort by the left road, which brought them in front of the enemy’s guns, pointing down the hill, which was also down the road.
The Thirty-second United States colored troops were ordered to charge the rebel fort; had got in position at the head of the road. They attempted, but got stuck in the marsh, which they found impassable at the point of their assault; and a galling fire of grape, canister, and musketry being opened on them, they were forced to retire.
The Thirty-fourth United States colored troops also essayed an assault, but could not get near enough to produce any effect upon it. These regiments, however, only fell back to the line of battle, where they remained throughout the entire fight.
The Fifty-fifth Massachusetts (colored) went into the fight on the right of the brigade, commanded by Colonel Hartwell. The fire became very hot; but still the regiment did not waver, the line merely quivered. Captain Goraud, of General Foster’s staff, whoso gallantry was conspicuous all day, rode up just as Colonel Hartwell was wounded in the hand, and advised him to retire; but the colonel declined.
Colonel Hartwell gave the order; the colors came to the extreme front, when the colonel shouted, “Follow your colors!” The bugle sounded the charge, and then the colonel led the way himself.
After an unsuccessful charge in line of battle by the Fifty-fourth and Fifty-fifth Massachusetts, the Fifty-fifth was formed in column by company, and again thrice marched up that narrow causeway in the face of the enemy’s batteries and musketry.
Captain Crane, of the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts, whose company had been left in charge of Fort Delafield, at Folly Island, but who, at his own request, had gone as aide to Colonel Hartwell, was, as well as the colonel, mounted.
Just as they reached the marsh in front of the turn in the road, and within a short distance of the rebel works, the horse of brave Colonel Hartwell, while struggling through the mud, was literally blown in pieces by a discharge of canister.
The colonel was wounded at the same time, and attempted to jump from his horse; but the animal fell on him, pressing him into the mud. At this time, he was riding at the side of the column, and the men pressed on past; but as they neared the fort they met a murderous fire of grape, canister, and bullets at short range. As the numbers of the advance were thinned, the few who survived began to waver, and finally the regiment retreated.
In retiring, Lieutenant Ellsworth, and one man of the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts, came to the rescue of Colonel Hartwell, and in spite of his remonstrance that they should leave him to his fate, and take care of themselves, released him from his horse, and bore him from the field. But before he was entirely out of range of the enemy’s fire, the colonel was again wounded, and the brave private soldier who was assisting was killed, and another heroic man lost.
The Twenty-fifth Ohio, soon after the commencement of the engagement, were sent to the right, where they swung around, and fought on a line nearly perpendicular to our main front. A portion of the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts were with them. One or two charges were essayed, but were unsuccessful; but the front was maintained there throughout the afternoon. The Twenty-fifth had the largest loss of all the regiments.
The colored troops fought well throughout the day. Counter-charges were made at various times during the fight by the enemy; but our infantry and artillery mowed them down, and they did not at any time get very near our lines. Whenever a charge of our men was repulsed, the rebels would flock out of their works, whooping like Indians; but Ames’s guns and the terrible volleys of our infantry would send them back. The Naval Brigade behaved splendidly.
The Fifty-fourth Massachusetts, heroes of all the hard fights that occurred in the department, were too much scattered in this battle to do full justice to themselves. Only two companies went into the fight at first, under Lieutenant-Colonel Hooper. They were posted on the left. Subsequently they were joined by four more companies, who were left on duty in the rear.
Many scenes transpired in this battle which would furnish rich material for the artist. In the midst of the engagement, a shell exploded amongst the color-guard, severely wounding the color-sergeant, Ring, who was afterwards killed by a bullet. Private Fitzgerald, of Company D., Massachusetts Fifty-fifth, was badly wounded in the side and leg, but remained at his post. Major Nutt, seeing his condition, ordered him to the rear. The man obeyed; but soon the major saw that he had returned, when he spoke sharply, “Go to the rear, and have your wounds dressed.” The man again obeyed the order; but in a few minutes more was seen by the major, with a handkerchief bound around the leg, and loading and firing. The major said to our informant, “I thought I would let him stay.”
Like the Fifty-fourth at Olustee, the Fifty-fifth was the last regiment to leave the field, and cover the retreat at Honey Hill.
It is only simple justice to the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Regiment, to say that at Honey Hill it occupied the most perilous position throughout nearly the entire battle.
Three times did these heroic men march up the hill nearly to the batteries, and as many times were swept back by the fearful storm of grape-shot and shell; more than one hundred being cut down in less than half an hour. Great was its loss; and yet it remained in the gap, while our outnumbered army was struggling with the foe on his own soil, and in the stronghold chosen by himself.
What the valiant Fifty-fourth Massachusetts had been at the battle of Olustee, the Fifty-fifth was at Honey Hill.
Never was self-sacrifice, by both officers and men, more apparent than on this occasion; never did men look death more calmly in the face. See the undaunted and heroic Hartwell at the head of his regiment, and hear him shouting, “Follow your colors, my brave men!” and with drawn sword leading his gallant band. His horse is up to its knees in the heavy mud. The rider, already wounded, is again struck by the fragment of a shell, but keeps his seat; while the spirited animal struggling in the mire, and plunging about, attracts the attention of the braves, who are eagerly pressing forward to meet the enemy, to retake the lost ground, and gain a victory, or at least, save the little army from defeat. A moment more, he is killed; and the brave Hartwell attempts to jump from his charger, but is too weak. The horse falls with fearful struggles upon its rider, and both are buried in the mud. The brave Captain Crane, the Adjutant, is killed, and falls from his horse near his colonel. Lieutenant Boynton, while urging his men, is killed. Lieutenant Hill is wounded, but still keeps his place. Captains Soule and Woodward are both wounded, and yet keep their command. The blood is running freely from the mouth of Lieutenant Jewett; but he does not leave his company. Sergeant-Major Trotter is wounded, but still fights. Sergeant Shorter is wounded in the knee, yet will not go to the rear. A shell tears off the foot of Sergeant-Major Charles L. Mitchel; and as he is carried to the rear, he shouts, with uplifted hand, “Cheer up, boys; we’ll never surrender!” But look away in front: there are the colors, and foremost amongst the bearers is Robert M. King, the young, the handsome, and the gentlemanly sergeant, whose youth and bravery attract the attention of all. Scarcely more than twenty years of age, well educated, he left a good home in Ohio to follow the fortunes of war, and to give his life to help redeem his race. The enemy train their guns upon the colors, the roar of cannon and crack of rifle is heard, the advanced flag falls, the heroic King is killed; no, he is not dead, but only wounded. A fellow-sergeant seizes the colors; but the bearer will not give them up. He rises, holds the old flag aloft with one hand, and presses the other upon the wound in his side to stop the blood. “Advance the colors!” shouts the commander. The brave King, though saturated with his own blood, is the first to obey the order. As he goes forward, a bullet passes through his heart, and he falls. Another snatches the colors; but they are fast, the grasp of death holds them tight. The hand is at last forced open, the flag is raised to the breeze, and the lifeless body of Robert M. King is borne from the field. This is but a truthful sketch of the part played by one heroic son of Africa, whose death was lamented by all who knew him. This is only one of the two hundred and forty-nine that fell on the field of Honey Hill. With a sad heart we turn away from the picture.
The Sixth Regiment United States colored troops was the second which was organized at Camp William Penn, near Philadelphia, by Lieutenant-Colonel Wagner, of the Eighty-eighth Pennsylvania Volunteers. The regiment left Philadelphia on the 14th of October, 1863, with nearly eight hundred men, and a full complement of officers, a large majority of whom had been in active service in the field.
The regiment reported to Major-General B. F. Butler, at Fortress Monroe, and were assigned to duty at Yorktown, Virginia, and became part of the brigade (afterwards so favorably known), under the command of Colonel S. A. Duncan, Fourth United States colored troops. Here they labored upon the fortifications, and became thoroughly disciplined under the tuition of their colonel, John W. Ames, formerly captain of the Eleventh Infantry, United States army, ably seconded by Lieutenant-Colonel Royce and Major Kiddoo. During the winter, the regiment took a prominent part in the several raids made in the direction of Richmond, and exhibited qualities that elicited the praise of their officers, and showed that they could be fully relied upon in more dangerous work.
The regiment was ordered to Camp Hamilton, Virginia, in May, 1864, where a division of colored troops was formed, and placed under the command of Brigadier-General Hinks. In the expedition made up the James River the same month, under General Butler, this division took part. The white troops were landed at Bermuda Hundreds. Three regiments of colored men were posted at various points along the river. Duncan’s brigade landed at City Point, where they immediately commenced fortifications. The Sixth and Fourth Regiments were soon after removed to Spring Hill, within five miles of Petersburg. Here they labored night and day upon those earthworks which were soon to be the scene of action which was to become historical. The Sixth was in a short time left alone, by the removal of the Fourth Regiment to another point.
On the 29th of May, the rebel forces made an assault on the picket-line, the enemy soon after attacking in strong force, but were unable to drive back the picket-line any considerable distance. The Fourth Regiment was ordered to the assistance of the Sixth; but our forces were entirely too weak to make it feasible or prudent to attack the enemy, who withdrew during the night, having accomplished nothing.
This was the first experience of the men under actual fire, and they behaved finely. When the outer works around Petersburg were attacked, June 15, Duncan’s brigade met the rebels, and did good service, driving the enemy before him. We had a number killed and wounded in this engagement. The rebels sought shelter in their main works, which were of the most formidable character. These defences had been erected by the labor of slaves, detailed for the purpose. Our forces followed them to their stronghold. The white troops occupied the right; and in order to attract the attention of the enemy, while these troops were manœuvring for a favorable attacking position, the colored soldiers were subject to a most galling fire for several hours, losing a number of officers and men. Towards night, the fight commenced in earnest by the troops on the right, who quickly cleared their portion of the line; this was followed by the immediate advance of the colored troops, the Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, and Twenty-second Regiments. In a very short time the rebels were driven from the whole line; these regiments capturing seven pieces of artillery, and a number of prisoners. For their gallantry in this action the colored troops received a highly complimentary notice from General W. H. Smith in General Orders.
A few hours after entering the rebel works, our soldiers were gladdened by a sight of the veterans of the Army of the Potomac, who that night relieved our men at the front. A glance at the strong works gave the new-comers a better opinion of the fighting qualities of the negroes than they had calculated upon; and a good feeling was at once established, that rapidly dispelled most of the prejudices then existing against the blacks; and from that time to the close of the war, the negro soldier stood high with the white troops.
After spending some time at the Bermuda Hundreds, the Sixth Regiment was ordered to Dutch Gap, Virginia, where, on the 16th of August, they assisted in driving the rebels from Signal Hill; General Butler, in person, leading our troops. The Sixth Regiment contributed its share towards completing Butler’s famous canal, during which time they were often very much annoyed by the rebel shells thrown amongst them. The conduct of the men throughout these trying scenes reflected great credit upon them. On the 29th of September, the regiment occupied the advance in the demonstration made by Butler that day upon Richmond. The first line of battle was formed by the Fourth and Sixth Regiments; the latter entered the fight with three hundred and fifteen men, including nineteen officers.
The enemy were driven back from within two miles of Deep Bottom, to their works at New Market Heights; the Sixth was compelled to cross a small creek, and then an open field. They were met by a fearful fire from the rebel works; men fell by scores; still the regiment went forward. The color-bearers, one after another, were killed or wounded, until the entire color-guard were swept from the field. Two hundred and nine men, and fourteen officers, were killed and wounded. Few fields of battle showed greater slaughter than this; and in no conflict did both officers and men prove themselves more brave. Captains York and Sheldon and Lieutenant Meyer were killed close to the rebel works. Lieutenants Pratt, Landon, and McEvoy subsequently died of the wounds received. Lieutenant Charles Fields, Company A., was killed on the skirmish-line: this left the company in charge of the first sergeant, Richard Carter, of Philadelphia, who kept it in its advanced position through the entire day, commanding with courage and great ability, attracting marked attention for his officer-like bearing. During the battle many instances of unsurpassed bravery were shown by the common soldier, which proved that these heroic men were fighting for the freedom of their race, and the restoration of a Union that should protect man in his liberty without regard to color. No regiment did more towards extinguishing prejudice against the Negro than the patriotic Sixth.
The prompt manner in which colored men in the North had enlisted in the army to aid in putting down the Rebellion, and the heroism and loyalty of the slaves of the South in helping to save the Union, so exasperated the disloyal people in the Northern States, that they early began a system of cowardly warfare against the blacks wherever they found them. The mob spirit first manifested itself at a meeting held in Boston, December 3, 1860, to observe the anniversary of the death of John Brown. A combination of North End roughs and Beacon Street aristocrats took possession of the Tremont Temple, the place of holding the meeting, appointed Richard S. Fay as Chairman, and passed a series of resolutions in favor of the slave-holders of the South, and condemnatory of the abolitionists.
This success induced these enemies of free discussion to attempt to break up the meeting of the Twenty-eighth Congregational Society at Music Hall the following Sunday, at which Frederick Douglass was the speaker. Wendell Phillips addressed the same society at the same place, on the 19th following, when the mob spirit seemed even more violent than on any previous occasion. These events were still fresh in the minds of the haters of negro freedom, when, on the 10th of July, 1863, the great mob commenced in the city of New York.
The mob was composed of the lowest and most degraded of the foreign population (mainly Irish), raked from the filthy cellars and dens of the city, steeped in crimes of the deepest dye, and ready for any act, no matter how dark; together with the worst type of our native criminals, whose long service in the prisons of the country, and whose training in the Democratic party, had so demoralized their natures that they were ever on the hunt for some deed of robbery or murder.
This conglomerated mass of human beings were under the leadership of men standing higher than themselves in the estimation of the public, but, if possible, really lower in moral degradation. Cheered on by men holding high political positions, and finding little or no opposition, they went on at a fearful rate.
Never, in the history of mob-violence, was crime carried to such an extent. Murder, arson, robbery, and cruelty reigned triumphant throughout the city, day and night, for more than a week.
Hundreds of the blacks, driven from their homes, and hunted and chased through the streets, presented themselves at the doors of jails, prisons, police-stations, and begged admission. Thus did these fiends prowl about the city, committing crime after crime; indeed, in point of cruelty, the Rebellion was transferred from the South to the North.
The destruction of the colored Orphan Asylum, after first robbing the little black children of their clothing, seemed a most heartless transaction.
Nearly forty colored persons were murdered during this reign of terror. Some were hung at lamp-posts, some thrown off the docks, while others, shot, clubbed, and cut to pieces with knives, were seen lying dead in the streets.
Numbers of men and boys amused themselves by cutting pieces of flesh from the dead body of a black man who was suspended from a lamp-post at the corner of Prince Street.
Hundreds of colored men and women had taken shelter in the buildings reached by passing through the “Arch,” on Thompson Street. The mob made several unsuccessful attempts to gain admission to this alley, where, in one of the buildings, was a room about thirty by forty feet square, in the centre of which stood an old-fashioned cook-stove, the top of which seemed filled with boilers, and all steaming away, completely filling the place with a dense fog. Two lamps, with dingy chimneys, and the light from the fire, which shone brightly through the broken doors of the stove, lighted up the room. Eight athletic black women, looking for all the world as if they had just returned from a Virginia corn-field, weary and hungry, stood around the room.
Each of these Amazons was armed with a tin dipper, apparently new, which had no doubt been purchased for the occasion. A woman of exceedingly large proportions—tall, long-armed, with a deep scar down the side of her face, and with a half grin, half smile—was the commander-in-chief of the “hot room.” This woman stood by the stove, dipper in hand, and occasionally taking the top from the large wash-boiler, which we learned was filled with boiling water, soap, and ashes.
In case of an attack, this boiler was to be the “King of Pain.”
Guided by a friend who had furnished us a disguise, the writer entered the “hot room,” and took a view of its surroundings. As we saw the perspiration streaming down the faces of these women, we ventured a few questions.
“Do you expect an attack?” we asked.
“Dunno, honey; but we’s ready ef dey comes,” was the reply from the aunty near the stove.
“Were you ever in slavery?” we continued.
“Yes; ain’t bin from dar but little while.”
“What State?”
“Bred and born in ole Virginny, down on de Pertomuc.”
“Have you any of your relations in Virginia now?”
“Yes; got six chilens down dar somewhar, an’ two husbuns—all sole to de speclaturs afore I run away.”
“Did you come off alone?”
“No; my las ole man bring me ’way.”
“You don’t mean to be taken back by the slave-catchers, in peace?”
“No; I’ll die fuss.”
“How will you manage if they attempt to come into this room?”
“We’ll all fling hot water on ’em, an’ scall dar very harts out.”
“Can you all throw water without injuring each other?”
“O yes, honey; we’s bin practicin’ all day.” And here the whole company joined in a hearty laugh, which made the old building ring.
The intense heat drove us from the room. As we descended the steps and passed the guards, we remarked to one of them,—
“The women seem to be prepared for battle.”
“Yes,” he replied; “dem wimmens got de debil in ’em to-night, an’ no mistake. Dey’ll make dat a hot hell in dar fur somebody.”
And here the guards broke forth into a hearty laugh, which was caught up and joined in by the women in the house, which showed very clearly that these blacks felt themselves masters of the situation.
As the mob made their last attempt to gain an entrance to the alley, one of their number, a man bloated with strong drink, and heaping oaths upon the “niggers,” succeeded in getting through, and made his way to the “hot room,” where, it is said, he suddenly disappeared. It was whispered that the washerwomen made soap-grease of his carcass.
The inhabitants of the “Arch” were not again disturbed.
Caste is usually found to exist in communities or countries among majorities, and against minorities. The basis of it is owing to some supposed inferiority or degradation attached to the hated ones. However, nothing is more foolish than this prejudice. But the silliest of all caste is that which is founded on color; for those who entertain it have not a single logical reason to offer in its defence.
The fact is, slavery has been the cause of all the prejudice against the negro. Wherever the blacks are ill-treated on account of their color, it is because of their identity with a race that has long worn the chain of slavery. Is there anything in black that should be hated? If so, why do we see so much black in common use as clothing among all classes? Indeed, black is preferred to either white or colors. How often the young man speaks in ecstasies of the black eyes and black hair of his lady-love! Look at the hundreds of advertised hair-dyes, used for the purpose of changing Nature! See men with their gray beards dyed black; women with those beautiful black locks, which but yesterday were as white as the driven snow! Not only this, but even those with light or red whiskers run to the dye-kettle, steal a color which Nature has refused them, and an hour after curse the negro for a complexion that is not stolen. If black is so hateful, why do not gentlemen have their boots whitewashed? If the slaves of the South had been white, the same prejudice would have existed against them. Look at the “poor white trash,” as the lower class of whites in the Southern States are termed.
The general good conduct of the blacks during the Rebellion, and especially the aid rendered to our Northern men escaping from Southern prisons, has done much to dispel the prejudice so rampant in the free states. The following, from the pen of Junius Henri Browne, the accomplished war correspondent of “The Tribune,” is but a fair sample of what was said for the negro during the great conflict. In his very interesting work, “Four Years in Secessia,” he says:—
“The negro who had guided us to the railway had told us of another of his color to whom we could apply for shelter and food at the terminus of our second stage. We could not find him until nearly dawn; and when we did, he directed us to a large barn filled with corn-husks. Into that we crept with our dripping garments, and lay there for fifteen hours, until we could again venture forth. Floundering about in the husks, we lost our haversacks, pipes, and a hat.
“About nine o’clock we procured a hearty supper from the generous negro, who even gave me his hat,—an appropriate presentation, as one of my companions remarked, by an ‘intelligent contraband’ to the reliable gentleman of ‘The New York Tribune.’ The negro did picket-duty while we hastily ate our meal, and stood by his blazing fire. The old African and voice and moistened eyes, as we parted from them with grateful hearts. ‘God bless negroes!’ say I, with earnest lips. During our entire captivity, and after our escape, they were ever our firm, brave, unflinching friends. We never made an appeal to them they did not answer. They never hesitated to do us a service at the risk even of life; and under the most trying circumstances, revealed a devotion and a spirit of self-sacrifice that were heroic.
“The magic word ‘Yankee’ opened all their hearts, and elicited the loftiest virtues. They were ignorant, oppressed, enslaved; but they always cherished a simple and beautiful faith in the cause of the Union, and its ultimate triumph, and never abandoned or turned aside from a man who sought food or shelter on his way to freedom.”
The month of May, 1864, saw great progress in the treatment of the colored troops by the government of the United States. The circumstances were more favorable for this change than they had hitherto been. Slavery had been abolished in the District of Columbia, Maryland, and Missouri. The heroic assault on Fort Wagner, the unsurpassed bravery exhibited at Port Hudson, the splendid fighting at Olustee and Honey Hill, had raised the colored men in the estimation of the nation. President Lincoln and his advisers had seen their error, and begun to repair the wrong. The year opened with the appointment of Dr. A. T. Augusta, a colored gentleman, as surgeon of colored volunteers, and he was at once assigned to duty, with the rank of major. Following this, was the appointment, by Governor Andrew, of Massachusetts, of Sergeant Stephen A. Swailes, of Company F., Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Regiment, as second lieutenant.
M. R. Delany, M. D., was soon after appointed a major of negro volunteers, and assigned to duty at Charleston, South Carolina. W. P. Powell, Jr., received an appointment as surgeon, about the same time.
The steamer Planter, since being brought out of Charleston by Robert Small, was under the command of a Yankee, who, being ordered to do service where the vessel would be liable to come under the fire of rebel guns, refused to obey; whereupon Lieutenant-Colonel Elwell, without consultation with any higher authority, issued an order, placing Robert Small in command of the “Planter.”
The acknowledgment of the civil rights of the negro had already been granted, in the admission of John S. Rock, a colored man, to practice law in all the counties within the jurisdiction of the United States. John F. Shorter, who was promoted to a lieutenancy in Company D, Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Regiment, was by trade a carpenter, and was residing in Delaware County, Ohio, when the call was made for colored troops. Severely wounded at the battle of Honey Hill, South Carolina, on the 30th of November, 1864, he still remained with his regiment, hoping to be of service.
At the conclusion of the war, he returned home, but never recovered from his wound, and died a few days after his arrival. James Monroe Trotter, promoted for gallantry, was wounded at the battle of Honey Hill. He is a native of Grand Gulf, Mississippi; removed to Cincinnati, Ohio; was educated at the Albany (Ohio) Manual Labor University, where he distinguished himself for his scholarly attainments. He afterwards became a school-teacher, which position he filled with satisfaction to the people of Muskingum and Pike Counties, Ohio, and with honor to himself. Enlisting as a private in the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Regiment, on its organization, he returned with it to Boston as a lieutenant, an office honorably earned.
William H. Dupree, a native of Petersburg, Virginia, was brought up and educated at Chillicothe, Ohio. He enlisted in the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Regiment, on its formation, as a private, was soon made orderly-sergeant, and afterwards promoted to a lieutenancy for bravery on the field of battle.
Charles L. Mitchel, promoted to a lieutenancy in the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Regiment for gallantry at the battle of Honey Hill, where he was severely wounded (losing a limb), is a native of Hartford, Connecticut, and son of William A. Mitchel of that city. Lieutenant Mitchel served an apprenticeship to William H. Burleigh, in the office of the old “Charter Oak,” in Hartford, where he became an excellent printer. For five or six years previous to entering the army, he was employed in different printing-offices in Boston, the last of which was “The Liberator,” edited by William Lloyd Garrison, who never speaks of Lieutenant Mitchel but in words of the highest commendation. General A. S. Hartwell, late colonel of the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Regiment, makes honorable mention of Lieutenant Mitchel.
In the year 1867, Mr. Mitchel was elected to the Massachusetts Legislature, from Ward Six, in Boston. The appointment of John M. Langston to a position in the Freedman Bureau, showed progress.
However, the selection of E. D. Bassett, as Minister and Consul-General to Hayti, astonished even those who had the most favorable opinion of President Grant, and satisfied the people generally, both colored and white. Since the close of the war, colored men have been appointed to honorable situations in the Custom Houses in the various States, also in the Post Office and Revenue Department.
A little more than forty years ago, William Lloyd Garrison hoisted the banner of immediate and unconditional emancipation, as the right of the slave, and the duty of the master. The men and women who gradually rallied around him, fully comprehended the solemn responsibility they were then taking, and seemed prepared to consecrate the best years of their lives to the cause of human freedom. Amid the moral and political darkness which then overshadowed the land, the voice of humanity was at length faintly heard, and soon aroused opposition; for slavery was rooted and engrafted in every fibre of American society. The imprisonment of Mr. Garrison at Baltimore, at once directed public attention to the heinous sin which he was attacking, and called around him some of the purest and best men of the country.
The Boston mob of 1835 gave now impulse to the agitation, and brought fresh aid to the pioneer of the movement. Then came the great battle for freedom of speech and the press; a battle in which the heroism of this small body of proscribed men and women had ample room to show their genius and abilities. The bold and seeming audacity with which they attacked slavery in every corner where the monster had taken refuge, even in the face of lynchings, riots, and murders, carried with it a charm which wrung applause from the sympathizing heart throughout the world, and showed that the American Abolitionists possessed a persistency and a courage which had never found a parallel in the annals of progress and reform.
In the spring of 1859, we attended a meeting of the Executive Committee of the American Anti-slavery Society, as it was then organized, and we shall write of the members as they appeared at that time. The committee was composed of twelve persons besides the chairman, and were seated around a long table. At the head of the table sat William Lloyd Garrison, the Chairman of the Board, and the acknowledged leader of the movement. His high and prominent forehead, piercing eye, pleasant, yet anxious countenance, long nose, and smile upon his lips, point him out at once as a man born to guide and direct.
The deference with which he is treated by his associates shows their appreciation of his abilities and his moral worth. Tender and blameless in his family affections, devoted to his friends, simple and studious, upright, guileless, distinguished, and worthy, like the great men of antiquity, to be immortalized by another Plutarch. As a speaker, he is forcible, clear, and logical; as a writer, he has always been regarded as one of the ablest in our country. How many services, never to be forgotten, has he not rendered to the cause of the slave and the welfare of mankind.
Many of those who started out with him in young manhood, when he left his Newburyport home, were swept away like so much floating wood before the tide.
When the sturdiest characters gave way, when the finest geniuses passed one after another under the yoke of slavery, Garrison stood firm to his convictions, like a rock that stands stirless amid the conflicting agitation of the waves. He is not only the friend and advocate of freedom with his pen and tongue, but to the oppressed of every clime he opens his purse, his house, and his heart. In days past, the fugitive slave, fresh from the prison-house of the South, who was turned off by the politician, and had experienced the cold shoulder of the divine, found a warm bed and breakfast under the hospitable roof of William Lloyd Garrison.
The society whose executive committee is now in session, is one of no inconsiderable influence in the United States. No man has had more bitter enemies or stauncher friends than Mr. Garrison.
There are those among his friends who would stake their all upon his veracity and integrity; and we are sure that the colored people throughout America, in whose cause he has so long labored, will with one accord assign the highest niche in their affections to the champion of universal emancipation. This is not intended as an eulogium, for no words of ours could add the weight of a feather to the world-wide fame of William Lloyd Garrison; but we simply wish to record the acknowledgment of a grateful negro to the most distinguished friend of his race.
On the right of the chairman sat Wendell Phillips, America’s ablest orator. He is a little above the middle height, well made, and remarkably graceful in person. His golden hair is now growing thin and changing its color, and his youthful look has gone; but he shows no yielding to age, and is in the full maturity of his powers. Descended from one of the oldest and most cultivated stock of New England’s sons; educated at the first university; graduating with all the honors which the college could bestow on him; studying law with Judge Story, and becoming a member of the bar; he has all the accomplishments that these advantages can give to a man of a great mind.
Nature has treated Mr. Phillips as a favorite. His expressive countenance paints and reflects every emotion of his soul. His gestures, like his delivery, are wonderfully graceful. There is a fascination in the soft gaze of his eyes, which none can but admire. Being a close student, and endowed by Nature with a retentive memory, he supplies himself with the most complicated dates and historical events. Nothing can surpass the variety of his matter. He extracts from a subject all that it contains, and does it as none but Wendell Phillips can. His voice is beautifully musical, and it is calculated to attract wherever it is heard. He is a man of calm intrepidity, of a patriotic and warm heart, with temper the most gentle, a rectitude of principle entirely natural, a freedom from ambition, and a modesty quite singular.
His speeches upon every subject upon which he has spoken, will compare favorably with anything ever uttered by Pitt or Sheridan in their palmiest days. No American is so eagerly reported in Europe, in what he says on the platform, as Mr. Phillips. His appeal for Cretan independence was circulated in the language of Demosthenes and Isocrates through Greece and its islands, and reached the ears of the mountaineers of Crete, for whom he spoke.
But it is in the Anti-slavery cause that we love to write of him. As a speaker on that platform, he has never had an equal; and the good he has rendered the slave by his eloquent speeches can never be estimated.
Considering his position in society, his talents and prospects when in youth he entered the ranks of the proscribed and hated Abolitionists, we feel that Mr. Phillips has sacrificed more upon the altar of freedom than any other living man.
On the opposite side of the table from Mr. Phillips, sits Edmund Quincy, the ripe scholar and highly-cultivated gentleman and interesting writer. If he is not so eloquent a speaker as his friend Phillips, he is none the less staunch in his adherence to principle. He is one of the best presiding officers that New England can produce.
A little farther down on the same side is Francis Jackson. His calm Roman face, large features, well-developed head, and robust-looking frame tells you at once that he is a man of courage. He was one of the first to take his stand by the side of Mr. Garrison; and when the mob in 1835 broke up the anti-slavery meeting held by the ladies, Mr. Jackson, with a moral courage scarcely ever equalled, came forward and offered his private dwelling to them to hold their meeting in.
Still farther down on the same side sits Maria Weston Chapman, the well-read and accomplished lady, the head and heart of the Anti-slavery Bazaar. Many an influential woman has been induced to take part in the Bazaar and Subscription Festival, solely on account of the earnest eloquence and polished magnetism of Mrs. Chapman. By her side sits her gifted little sister, Anne Warren Weston. On the opposite side of the table is Samuel May, Jr., the able and efficient general agent of the Society. To his perseverance, industry, gentlemanly manners, and good sense, the Society owes much of its success. In the earlier days of the movement, Mr. May left the pulpit and a lucrative salary, that he might devote his time to the cause in which his heart had long been engaged. Mr. May is an earnest speaker, and never takes the platform unless he has something to say. He is simple, plain, and one of the best of friends. It was the good fortune of the writer to be associated with him for a number of years; and he never looks back to those days but with the best feeling and most profound respect for the moral character and Christian worth of Samuel May, Jr.
Not far from Mr. May sat Charles F. Hovey, the princely Summer Street merchant, the plain, honest, outspoken man whose heart felt the wrongs of the oppressed as keenly as if he himself had been one of the race. Gathered since to his heavenly rest, he bequeathed a large sum of money to carry on the battle for the negro’s freedom. Farther down the table was Eliza Lee Follen, whose poems in favor of liberty have so often been sung in our anti-slavery conventions. Sydney Howard Gay, the polished writer, the editor of the Society’s organ, occupied a seat next to Mrs. Follen. With small frame, finely-cut features, and pleasant voice, he is ever listened to with marked attention. Mr. Gay is a gentleman in every sense of the term.
Near the end of the table is William I. Bowditch, the able scholar, the ripe lawyer, the devoted friend of freedom. Lastly, there is Charles K. Whipple, the “C. K. W.,” of “The Liberator,” and the “North,” of the “Anti-slavery Standard.” A stronger executive board for a great moral object probably never existed. They were men and women in whom the public had the utmost confidence, individually, for rectitude of character.
There were also present on this occasion five persons who were not members of the board, but whose long and arduous labors entitled them to a seat around the table. These were Samuel J. May, Lydia Maria Child, James and Lucretia Mott, and Thomas Garrett; and of these we shall now make mention.
Born in Boston, educated in her unsurpassed schools, a graduate of Harvard University, and deeply imbued with the spirit and teachings of the great leader of our salvation, and a philanthropist by nature, Samuel J. May was drawn to the side of Mr. Garrison by the force of sympathy. He was a member of the Philadelphia Convention in 1833, at the formation of the American Anti-slavery Society, and his name is appended to the immortal “Declaration of Sentiments,” penned by Garrison, his life-long friend. When Prudence Crandall was imprisoned at Canterbury, Connecticut, for the crime of teaching colored girls to read, her most attached friend was Samuel J. May. He defended the persecuted woman, and stood by her till she was liberated. Although closely confined to his duties as preacher of the Gospel, Mr. May gave much of his time to the slaves’ cause. As a speaker, he was always interesting; for his sweet spirit and loving nature won to him the affectionate regard of all with whom he came in contact. As an Abolitionist, none were more true, more fearless. His house was long the home of the fugitive slaves passing through Syracuse, New York, and his church was always open to the anti-slavery lecturer when others were shut against him.
Lydia Maria Child early embraced the cause of the enslaved negro. Her sketches of some of the intellectual characters of the race appeared more than thirty years ago, and created considerable sensation from the boldness with which she advocated the black man’s equality.
James and Lucretia Mott were amongst the first in Pennsylvania to take the stand by the side of Mr. Garrison in defence of negro freedom. They were Abolitionists in every sense of the term, even to their clothing and food, for they were amongst the earliest to encourage the introduction of free-labor goods as a means of breaking up slavery, by reducing the value of the products of the slave’s toil. As a speaker, Mrs. Mott was doubtless the most eloquent woman that America ever produced. A highly-cultivated and reflective mind, thoroughly conversant with the negro’s suffering, hating everything that savored of oppression, whether religiously or politically, and possessing the brain and the courage, Mrs. Mott’s speeches were always listened to with the closest attention and the greatest interest.
Mr. Mott took little or no part in public gatherings; but his suggestions on committees, and his advice generally, were reliable. He gave of his means liberally, and seconded every movement of his noble wife.
Thomas Garrett was an Abolitionist from his youth up; and though the grand old cause numbered among its supporters, poets, sages, and statesmen, it had no more faithful worker in its ranks than Thomas Garrett. The work of this good man lay in Delaware, one of the meanest states in the Union, and the services which he rendered the free colored people of that State in their efforts to rise above the prejudice exhibited against their race can never be estimated.
But it was as a friend of the bondman escaping from his oppressor that Mr. Garrett was most widely known. For more than forty years he devoted himself to aiding the runaway slave in getting his freedom.
We have written of the executive officers of the most radical wing of the Anti-slavery movement, yet there was still another band whose labors were, if possible, more arduous, and deserve as much praise as any of whom we have made mention.
These were the lecturing agents, the men and women who performed the field service, the most difficult part of all the work. They went from city to city, and from town to town, urging the claims of the slave to his freedom; uttering truths that the people were not prepared for, and receiving in return, rotten eggs, sticks, stones, and the condemnation of the public generally. Many of these laborers neither asked nor received any compensation; some gave their time and paid their own expenses, satisfied with having an opportunity to work for humanity.
In the front rank of this heroic and fearless band, stood Abby Kelly Foster, the Joan of Arc, of the anti-slavery movement. Born, we believe, in the Society of Friends, and retaining to a great extent the seriousness of early training, convinced of the heinousness of slavery, she threw comfort, ease, and everything aside, and gave herself, in the bloom of young womanhood, to the advocacy of the right of the negro to his freedom. We first met Mrs. Foster (then Miss Kelly), about thirty years ago, at Buffalo, in the State of New York, and for the first time listened to a lecture against the hated system from which we had so recently escaped.
Somewhat above the common height, slim, but well-proportioned, finely-developed forehead and a pleasing countenance, eyes bright, voice clear, gestures a little nervous, and dressed in a plain manner, Mrs. Foster’s appearance on that occasion made a deep and lasting impression upon her audience. The life-like pictures which she drew of the helpless condition of her sisters in chains brought tears to many eyes, and when she demanded that those chains should be broken they responded with wild applause.
As a speaker, Mrs. Foster is logical, forcible; leaping from irony to grave argument. Her illustrations, anecdotes, and figures are always to the point. She is sharp and quick at repartee. In the earlier days of the movement, she was considered very able in discussion. At Buffalo, where we first heard her, she basted one of our ablest lawyers until he acknowledged the fact, amid loud applause. Mrs. Foster was at times harsh, but not harsher than truth. She is uncompromising, and always reliable in a public meeting where discussion on reformatory questions is under consideration. This lady gave the best years of her useful life to the redemption of the negro from slavery.
We may well give Stephen S. Foster a place by the side of his noble wife. He, too, embraced the cause of the slave at the dawn of the agitation of the subject, and at once became one of its ablest advocates. In downright field-work, as a lecturer, he did more than any other man. Mr. Foster was the most unpopular of all the anti-slavery agents; and simply because he “hewed to the line and the plummet,” not caring in whose face the chips flew. He was always at home in a discussion, and woe betide the person who fell into his hands. His announcement of his subject often startled his hearers, and even his best friends and associates would sometimes feel that he had overstated the question. But he always more than proved what he had said in the outset. In private life he is almost faultless; proverbially honest, trustworthy, and faithful in all his dealings, possessing in the estimation of his neighbors a high moral character.
Parker Pillsbury entered the field as an advocate of freedom about the same time as did Mr. Foster, and battled nobly for the oppressed.
Charles L. Remond was, we believe, the first man of color to take the platform as a regular lecturer in the anti-slavery cause, and was, no doubt, the ablest representative that the race had till the appearance of Frederick Douglass, in 1842. Mr. Remond prided himself more as the representative of the educated free man of color, and often alluded to the fact that “not a drop of slave blood” coursed through his veins. Mr. Remond has little or no originality, but his studied elocutionary powers, and fine flow of language, together with his being a colored man, always gained for him an attentive hearing. But the genius and originality of Frederick Douglass, and his unadorned eloquence, overshadowed and threw Remond in the shade. This so soured the latter that he never recovered from it, and even at the present time speaks disparagingly of his early friend and associate. However, both of these gentlemen did much to bring about the abolition of American Slavery.
Conspicuous among the advocates of freedom, almost from its earliest dawn to its close, was Charles C. Burleigh, the devoted friend of humanity. Nature has been profuse in showering her gifts upon Mr. Burleigh, but all have been bestowed upon his head and heart. There is a kind of eloquence which weaves its thread around the hearer, and gradually draws him into its web, fascinating him with its gaze, entangling him as the spider does the fly, until he is fast. Such is the eloquence of Charles C. Burleigh. As a debater, he is unquestionably the ablest who took sides with the slave. If he did not speak so fast, he would equal Wendell Phillips; if he did not reason his subject out of existence, he would surpass him. Cyrus M. Burleigh also did good service in the anti-slavery cause, both as a lecturer and editor of “The Pennsylvania Freeman.”
If Lucy Stone did not come into the field as early as some of whom we have made mention, she brought with her when she did an earnestness and enthusiasm that gave her an attentive audience wherever she spoke. Under the middle size, hair generally cut short, round face, eyes sparkling, not handsome, yet good to look upon, always plainly dressed, not a single dollar for diamonds, but a heart gushing for humanity, Lucy Stone at once became one of the most popular of the anti-slavery speakers. Her arguments are forcible, her appeals pathetic, her language plain, and at times classical. She is ready in debate, fertile in illustration, eloquent in enunciation, and moves a congregation as few can.
For real, earnest labor, as a leader of a corps of agents in a reformatory movement, Susan B. Anthony has few equals. As a speaker, she is full of facts and illustrations, and at times truly eloquent. Susan is always reliable; and if any of her travelling companions are colored, her hawk-eye is ever on the watch to see that their rights are not invaded on the score of their complexion. The writer’s dark skin thoroughly tested Miss Anthony’s grit some years ago at Cleveland, Ohio; but when weighed, she was not found wanting. On that occasion she found an efficient backer in our able and eloquent friend, Aaron M. Powell. These two, backed by the strong voice and earnest words of Andrew T. Foss, brought the hotelkeeper to his senses; and the writer was allowed to go to the dinner-table, and eat with white folks. Mr. Powell has for some years been the sole editor of the “Anti-Slavery Standard,” and as editor and speaker has rendered a lasting service to the cause of negro freedom. Andrew T. Foss left his pulpit some twenty years ago, to devote his entire time to the discussion of the principles of liberty, where his labors were highly appreciated.
Sallie Hollie filled an important niche on the anti-slavery platform. Her Orthodox antecedents, her scriptural knowledge, her prayerful and eloquent appeals obtained for her admission into churches when many others were refused; yet she was as uncompromising as truth.
Oliver Johnson gave his young manhood to the negro’s cause when to be an Abolitionist cost more than words. He was, in the earlier days of the movement, one of the hardest workers; both as a lecturer and writer, that the cause had. Mr. Johnson is a cogent reasoner, a deep thinker, a ready debater, an accomplished writer, and an eloquent speaker. He has at times edited the “Herald of Freedom,” “Anti-Slavery Standard,” and “Anti-Slavery Bugle;” and has at all times been one of the most uncompromising and reliable of the “Old Guard.”
Henry C. Wright was also among the early adherents to the doctrine of universal and immediate emancipation, and gave the cause the best years of his life.
Giles B. Stebbins, a ripe scholar, an acute thinker, earnest and able as a speaker, devoted to what he conceives to be right, was for years one of the most untiring of freedom’s advocates.
Of those who occasionally volunteered their services without money and without price, few struck harder blows at the old Bastile of slavery than James N. Buffum, a man of the people, whose abilities have been appreciated and acknowledged by his election as mayor of his own city of Lynn.
James Miller McKim was one of the signers of the Declaration of Sentiments, at Philadelphia, in 1833, and ever after gave his heart and his labors to the slave’s cause. For many years the leading man in the Anti-slavery Society in Pennsylvania, Mr. McKim’s labors were arduous, yet he never swerved from duty. He is a scholar, well read, and is a good speaker, only a little nervous. His round face indicates perseverance that will not falter, and integrity that will not disappoint. He always enjoyed the confidence of the Abolitionists throughout the country, and is regarded as a man of high moral character. Of the underground railroad through Pennsylvania, Mr. McKim knows more than any man except William Still.
Mary Grew, for her earnest labors, untiring activity, and truly eloquent speeches, was listened to with great interest and attention wherever she spoke. A more zealous and able friend the slave never had in Pennsylvania.
Lucretia Mott, the most eloquent woman that America ever produced, was a life-long Abolitionist, of the straightest kind. For years her clothing, food, and even the paper that she wrote her letters on, were the products of free labor. Thirty years ago we saw Mrs. Mott take from her pocket a little paper bag filled with sugar, and sweeten her tea. We then learned that it was her practice so to do when travelling, to be sure of having free sugar.
A phrenologist would pronounce her head faultless. She has a thoughtful countenance, eyes beaming with intelligence, and a voice of much compass. Mrs. Mott speaks hesitatingly at times, when she begins her remarks, and then words flow easily, and every word has a thought. She was always a favorite with the Abolitionists, and a welcome speaker at their anniversary meetings.
This was the radical wing of the Abolitionists,—men and women who believed mainly in moral suasion. Outside of these were many others who were equally sincere, and were laboring with all their powers to bring about emancipation, and to some of them I shall now call attention.
Some thirty years ago we met for the first time a gentleman of noble personal appearance, being about six feet in height, well-proportioned; forehead high and broad; large dark eyes, full of expression; hair brown, and a little tinged with gray. The fascination of his smiling gaze, and the hearty shake of his large, soft hand, made us feel at home when we were introduced to Gerrit Smith. His comprehensive and well-cultivated mind, his dignified and deliberate manner and musical voice fit him for what he is,—one of Nature’s noblest orators. Speaking is not the finest trait in the character of Mr. Smith, but his great, large heart, every pulsation of which beats for humanity. He brought to the negro’s cause wealth and position, and laid it all upon the altar of his redemption. In the year 1846 he gave three thousand farms to the same number of colored men; and three years later he gave a farm each to one thousand white men, with ten thousand dollars to be divided amongst them.
Mr. Smith has spent in various ways many hundred thousand dollars for the liberation and elevation of the blacks of this country. Next to Mr. Smith, in the State of New York, is Beriah Greene, whose long devotion to the cause of freedom is known throughout our land. Many of the colored men whose career have done honor to the race, owe their education to Mr. Greene. He is the most radical churchman we know of, always right on the question of slavery. He did much in the early days of the agitation, and his speeches were considered amongst the finest productions on the anti-slavery platform.
The old Abolitionists of thirty years ago still remember with pleasure the smiling face and intellectual countenance of Nathaniel P. Rogers, editor of the “Herald of Freedom,” a weekly newspaper that found a welcome wherever it went. Mr. Rogers was a man of rare gifts, of a philosophical and penetrating mind, high literary cultivation, quick perception, and of a most genial nature. He dealt hard blows at the peculiar institution with both his tongue and his pen. As a speaker, he was more argumentative than eloquent, but was always good in a discussion. As an ardent friend of Mr. Garrison, and a co-worker with him, Mr. Rogers should have been named with the moral suasionists.
William Goodell, a prolific writer, a deep thinker, a man of great industry, and whose large eyes indicate immense language, has labored long and faithfully for justice and humanity.
John P. Hale was the first man to make a successful stand in Congress, and he did his work nobly. His free-and-easy manner, his Falstaffian fun, and Cromwellian courage, were always too much for Foote and his Southern associates in the Senate, and in every contest for freedom the New Hampshire Senator came off victorious. Mr. Hale is a large, fat, social man, fine head, pleasing countenance, possessing much pungent wit, irony, and sarcasm; able and eloquent in debate, and has always been a true friend of negro freedom and elevation.
Charles Sumner had made his mark in favor of humanity, and especially in behalf of the colored race, long before the doors of the United States Senate opened to admit him as a member. In the year 1846, he refused to lecture before a New Bedford lyceum, because colored citizens were not allowed to occupy seats in common with the whites. His lectures and speeches all had the ring of the right metal. His career in Congress has been one of unsurpassed brilliancy. His oratorical efforts in the capital of the nation equal anything ever reported from the forums of Rome or Athens. Whatever is designed to promote the welfare and happiness of the human race, Mr. Sumner has the courage to advocate and defend to the last.
In firmness, he may be said to be without a rival on the floor of the Senate, and has at times appeared a little dogged. However, his foresight and sagacity show that he is generally in the right. Mr. Sumner’s efforts in favor of reform have been ably seconded in Congress by his colleague and friend, Henry Wilson, a man of the people, and from the people. Without great educational attainments, modest in his manners, never assuming aristocratic airs, plain, blunt, yet gentlemanly, Mr. Wilson has always carried with him a tremendous influence; and his speeches exhibit great research and much practical common sense. He is a hard worker, and in that kind of industry which is needed on committees, he is doubtless unequalled. As an old-time Whig, a Free-soiler, and a Republican, Mr. Wilson has always been an Abolitionist of the most radical stripe; and in Congress, has done as much for negro emancipation, and the elevation of the blacks, as any living man.
Foremost in his own State, as well as in Congress, for many years, was that good old man, Thaddeus Stevens, an earnest friend of the poor man, whether white or black. Strong in the consciousness of being right, he never shrank from any encounter, and nobody said more in fewer words, or gave to language a sharper bite, than he. On the question of slavery, Mr. Stevens was uncompromisingly the negro’s friend and faithful advocate.
Joshua R. Giddings, next to John Quincy Adams, was the first man, we believe, that really stirred up the House of Representatives in behalf of the slave. Mr. Giddings was a man without fear, entirely devoted to the welfare of mankind; not an orator, in the accepted sense of the term, but an able debater; ready in facts and illustrations, and always to be relied upon when the Southerners attempted to encroach upon freedom. Mr. Giddings never denied, even in the earlier days of the agitation, that he was an Abolitionist.
George W. Julian, of Indiana, entered the halls of Congress as an enemy of negro slavery, and, up to the present time, stands firm to his early convictions.
Thomas Russell began life as a friend of negro emancipation, and wherever his eloquent voice was heard, it gave no uncertain sound on the subject of freedom. The Judge is a special favorite of the colored men of Boston, and richly deserves it; for, as a Collector of Customs, he has given employment to a large number of the proscribed class.
Charles W. Slack, the talented editor of “The Commonwealth,”—the outspoken friend of liberty, whose gentlemanly deportment, polished manners, and sympathetic heart extend to the negro the same cordial welcome in his office that he gives to the white man,—is an old-time Abolitionist. The colored clerk in his Revenue department is prima facie evidence that he has no prejudice against the negro. Both as a speaker and a writer, Mr. Slack did the cause of the slave great service, when it cost something to be a friend to the race.