Ethiop (William J. Wilson) to Frederick Douglass, July 30, 1852
From Our Brooklyn Correspondent.
Dear Douglass:—Such is the rapid succession of events here, and such their multiplicity, that one's judgment is more exercised in selecting, for your intelligent readers, than is one's keenness in their search. They fall in my way. I stumble over them. But of many of them, brevity forbids even the mere mention. Henry Clay, as half the world knows ere this, is dead! The mill boy of the slashes is no more! and what a weeping o'er this part of the earth is there in consequence thereof! What a lamentation o'er the death of this truly wonderful, if not truly great man! And since no crape depends from my arm, and no tears fall from my eyes, and no sorrow penetrate deep my bosom, I have jotted down the fact but for another purpose. It is to remark the vast amount of fuss and ado the whites make about their leading men, whether divines, statesmen or root beer venders, especially if they come from the lower walks of society, while they equally underrate the merits of the black men, no matter to what point they attain; seeming to forget that the greater man's he who struggles farthest up through most difficulty; and that their great men, unlike ours, (for we have ours,) owe as much, and often more, to position, than to either their own energies or abilities - more to their system of puff, boast and brag, than to any real merit in them; while, on the other hand, ours receive from the same system an amount of hoots, hisses and pious curses, sufficient to swivel up about all the Anglo-Saxon courage and energy there is extant in a sizable nut-shell that may be put and worn in any one of their breeches pockets. This is peculiar to the white race. They make all that is possible out of their ease. Their acts, their deeds, no matter how good or bad, transcend above all others. All the world are taught to look at both their deeds and men through a magnifying glass of their own construction, which invariably pronounces upon all favorably. You look and behold! it is good!—To look at our men and deeds, they bid us turn the other end of the glass; and as we do so, it pronounces with equal facility upon all, unfavorably. Let us have a glass of our own, my dear Douglass, and we, too, may see and teach others to see our own men and deeds as they ought to be seen—as they are. Of its utility, none can fail to be convinced. The blacks have great men; but the world has to be shown them. They produce noble deeds; but the world must witness their exhibition, and this we must do ourselves. Take an item from this direction: the other evening, the Rev. Amos Freeman, late of Portland, Me., was installed pastor in Siloam Church, Brooklyn. And as no cornerstone laying, installation, or aught else pertaining to church matters, can well take place in any orthodox church in Brooklyn without assigning a part to the Rev. Dr. Cox, (which be always performs so ably,) it was thought, I believe, well to permit him on this occasion to deliver the charge to the pastor. This, coupled with some past offences to heal among the colored people, it was natural to expect the Dr. would do well—his very best; and we were not disappointed, for he never appeared happier.
Upon his words might wisdom hang with list'ning ear.
For seeming short but lengthened [spare].
A while, and he took his seat. I should have mentioned that Dr. Spear had previously delivered a very able and appropriate discourse. Both these divines then, from the white's stand point, discoursing to a colored congregation, had done ably and well. The next speaker was to be Dr. Pennington, who, as you know, was a black man. Some may feel disposed to fault with the mixing up: but for me, I like it—have in fact a special favor for it, since the platform recognises nothing short of perfect equality. But to the point. Dr. Pennington arose, and after a few well-timed remarks, laid down his positions and thence proceeded to pronounce one of the most splendid discourses that has ever been my fortune to listen to. Dr. Cox, who is a very thin-skined man, turned alternately red, purple and white, after the similitude of a [camilion], and well he might. For the first time he had been distanced in the popular race—he had not fully counted on his man. Again, our present and destined position in this country, as defined by Dr. Pennington, so unlike anything he had ever heard before, while so clear, yet to him so startling and so new, yet so convincing that the old Dr. [illegible] was, I think a pupil of Dr. Spring [illegible] kept the mastery; but who could have thought that years ago, little I know [did] Dr. Cox [think] that the quiet, meek looking boy, walking often some three miles on the Sabbath, and taking one of the humblest seats in one of his pompous [synagogue] to listen to [illegible] preaching, would have [illegible] at this day the able and learned Dr. Pennington, capable of [illegible] him and [illegible]ing him too. But such is the course of things. [illegible] the Dr. P. theme rose in grandeur and magnificence as he proceeded, his voice deepened and mellowed into in[illegible]able sublimity, till at last theme and speaker alone retained places in our thoughts; and, like the setting summer's sun, they ended, sh[illegible]ing a golden hue over all. Dr. Cox made a [second] attempt; but it was no go. It was like a cloud, marring, but for the [illegible] the [soft,] golden tints of evening [illegible] that [illegible]. And now let me ask,
do we appreciate such men as Dr. Pennington? Are we like the whites in this respect? It has been my pleasure, I may say good fortune, to become personally acquainted with the Dr., and I hope to give you soon an outline portrait of him.
By the way, I see, by the last number of Frederick Douglass' Paper, that Communipaw has again turned up to light. The fellow says, that "I, Ethiop, came to Gotham in a Jersey clam boat, and, instead of attending worship on the first Sabbath morning, at old St. Philip's, danced for clams, and at old Fly Market at that." Now with the old Billingsgate of the fellow I shall not meddle further than to correct his mistakes. First: the Jersey clam boys say that it was enough for them, in those back days, to tread out the clams, and leave the dancing for them, the New York Collect boys, said Collect boys deeming it far the easiest method of obtaining them. One little brushy headed urchin I knew of, contrary to his mother's wishes, made a regular practice of this clam and eel dancing business, and was compelled to inlay more than one paper within his inexpressibles to shield off the whoops for his propensity. The Jersey boys further add, that a very suspicious looking chap was seen prowling about their wharfs, the other week, which I take to have been this Communipaw, the route from the Flats being hard by where the little Jersey crafts disgorge their little cargoes. Second: as to the matter dancing at all, having never attempted the elegant accomplishment, I am even at this day somewhat in the predicament of the lad who wrote back to his dear mother, from the misty hills of old Scotland, that, instead of indulging clam chowder dances at Catherine Market, he had indulged artistically, it might have proved crowning joy amid the Caledonian lassies.
I should also have mentioned, I have had the pleasure of an introduction to Doctor James McCune Smith. The Doctor is a fine fellow I judge; lively, good-natured and keen, with much of the "laughing devil in his eye;" relishes a good joke, and tells a good story, and ought to be, and I doubt not is, the soul and centre of wit, fun and learning in Gotham.
Fourth of July has passed off hereabouts with its usual amount of patriotism and glory, in the shape of Irish processions, exploded powder, broken heads, blown-out brains, drowning, &c., &c., all to the utmost satisfaction of Brother Jonathan.
Yours, truly, Ethiop.
Brooklyn Heights.