[Rosine Amé Draz] to Frederick Douglass, February 26, 1865
Bournemouth
Hampshire
Feby 26th / 65
My very dear friend—Though I have written to you so lately. I am happy to have occasion again to send you a few lines. You will find enclosed in my letter—an order for five pounds on the New York Bank—which Mr Coote sends you to use as you think best. You must keep it for yourself of course. Oh dear friend I did hope Mr C. would send you more than this poor, paltry sum—He is so rich
Yet I have thanked him for it—hoping that as he becomes more interested in the cause of your dear people his heart will open and sympathize with them—And perhaps he will be led to open his purse more generously—May I ask you—dear friend—to write to Mr Coote—and tell him yourself something of the state of your people—And also of your own efforts in their cause—I feel convinced it would do good—he has some influence
And he could so easily help you largely—I know you will do so—I would rather wait a little longer for one of your very precious letters—myself—and that you should write to him—because I hope it may do good to our Cause -- Oh that I had a little of the money these people possess. You would never know, dear friend, what anxiety for the future means. It makes me most miserable sometimes when I see these people rolling in Wealth—
knowing all the time that millions of their fellow creatures are wanting bread and yet they go on heaping up their gold, closing their ears and hearts to the cry of the poor. And if they do part with a few pounds now and then—one would think they were parting with life itself! Oh, I do despise gold more & more—unless it is for the good which can be done with it. It is indeed a corrupter and hardener of the heart. I wish I had some—not for myself, but for those I love.
I am still expecting a letter from dear Rosetta I quite long to hear something more about her darling Baby. What a consolation it must be to her during the absence of her husband. God bless the precious child. I do again thank you—beloved friend—for having honored me in giving her my name. I shall never-never forget this proof of affection. Dear little child. I love it, and shall always take a deep interest in it. I hope Rosa received my note—enclosed in one to you about a month ago. I will write to her soon again.
I trust you have good tidings of your dear sons. May God preserve them. I thank Him that he permits you to see now some fruits of your long labors—Oh yes—you will reap dear friend—for you have not fainted When I pray for you—it is always in faith. I know that God will hear and bless you—that he will give you much happiness Even in this world—Even now—I feel that you are happier than you were when you were with us. How hopeless did things look then! Now Slavery is fast dying—
Of course, I know all that is going on in America from the papers. Mrs Cheever's letters however contain some particulars not mentioned in them. She and the Doctor are alarmed by the intrigues of the Jesuits & the Irish who are endeavoring to create enmity between England & America—A war between these two countries would indeed be a dreadful calamity. I do not at all wonder that America is exasperated by the want of sympathy in England—and by the Times' decided partisanship with the South—Oh I trust dear friend that you never take up that wicked
lying, Slavery upholding paper. You have no idea how many here even liberal people—have been poisoned by it. When I came here Mr. Coote—not having read any other paper—had formed his opinions of affairs in America from its articles. And I had—for a long time to hear him rather make excuses for the South—Also his wife & his sons these do still—as most young men do here—they think it more fashionable. Now Mr. Cootes eyes are
opened—He takes the Morning Star for me—
I spent a pleasant evening with Elihu Barrett just before leaving Huntingdonshire. He spoke of you most kindly and very highly. He is a good man a real friend of the slave. He has accepted the consulate in Birmingham. I still correspond with Mrs Joseph Sturge who continues to take a kind interest in me. I wish she would send me over to America as her missionary among your dear people—How easily she might do it! I feel as if God Himself called me there—Only the way if not yet [Mar?]
Oh that I could start tomorrow! Give my love to dear Rosa. I will write to her soon. And a kiss to Baby for me. My kind remembrances to Mrs Douglass.
God bless you. My very dear friend do take care of your precious life. Be careful of your health in traveling. It is your betters advice given in love—You will forgive my giving it. God bless and protect you.
Yours most devoted & affectionately
Rosine Amé Draz
You will write soon to Mr. Coate—Will you not?
and read it. Also Mrs C and they say I am right, I have a great deal to suffer here—a great deal to bear—Much to try my patience every day of my life—Yet I am thankful for this, that I may without fear—express my feelings—on the subject of oppression—which I abhor more & more.
There is a great deal of cruel injustice and oppression in this—so called free England. You dear friend could not so well find it out as I do. You were received as you would rightly be in every county—as a great and noble Man—but you may be sure that there are
many hearts crushed here by oppression—When I tell you my own story (if I ever have that happiness) you will say that I am right. I have been called "a very good Article for which it was worth while giving a little more money than for an inferior article under the care of which daughters might not become such good & clever women! That very word was used you see—dear friend—how many points of resemblance there are in our lives. You would think so could I tell you all—
Oh—I cannot give up the dear hope so long cherished of once more seeing and hearing my most valued friend and dearly loved brother. How grateful shall I be to God if he permits me to spend even a few hours with you, dear friend, though it seems to me that Eternity would hardly suffice to tell you all the thoughts of my heart—I know you would understand all—all which no one else upon Earth seems to comprehend. Things which I now keep to myself, and which God only hears—I tell Him all—If I were with you
I could think aloud My own friend and brother I wonder if we shall meet again upon Earth. It is five years since you left us. It seems impossible because you have never—one hour—been absent from my Spirit.
Dear old Mrs Read of Wincobank is dead—Poor Mrs Rawson is indeed broken hearted I am going to see her in the summer—How empty that dear house is getting. The only happy days of my life were spent there Dear, dear old home—I wonder if we shall ever meet there again