Ethiop (William J. Wilson) to Frederick Douglass, February 21, 1852
From Our Brooklyn Correspondent.
Capacity and thrift won't do it. — Communipaw,
Put no money in thy purse. — The Old Sachem.
My Dear Douglass: — in company with a few gentlemen, the other evening, when one, learnedly descanting upon the doctrines of mesmerism, clairvoyance, &c., remarked, that it was possible to be so intently looking at an idea, that though looking your nearest (say lady) acquaintance full in the face, you would not see her. Now, sir, Communipaw must have been looking some such idea full in the face, say that nobler one he hints at, or he would have seen, though far in advance of him. Miss Angelina Gracie give Miss Jemima Jackson (though unlike in color, equal in position[)] a most sisterly kiss: or that in all my sayings, both dark and illumed, I only advocated the acquisition of wealth, as a means of our elevation, one of the great levers by which we are to be raised to the proper level; aye, more I hold that the highest form of employment, the noblest calling is that which tends to develop both the man and the resources around him; and he who does the most to this end, is the noblest of them all. So also with a people. What I require, then, for my people, is the obtainment of laudable and lucrative occupations, such as will secure to them independence and competency, that we be no longer a loose and floating people, pursuing shadows, and not substances, say "that nobler idea," and not something more tangible?
Now let me give a passing glance at the Old Sage's position: and if by any attempts to extricate himself, he does not stick fast in the Jersey bogs, then ETHIOP will wait upon him from the ferry, when he comes to town. Position first: "As blacks, we cannot, in this community, get nor create laudable employments, competency, wealth, desirable, positions. That is, we can neither get, nor conduct, work-shops, stores, professions, nor farms, as do the whites, which leads, ultimately, to wealth, power, and refinement: for this is all I claim. What an idea!!!! Position second: The Old Sage assumes, that did we have, hold, and conduce these afore[said] operations with a skill and efficiency that [illegible] competency, and our full [illegible] as a people — infusing within us [illegible] tone and vigor, making us equal,
aye, superior to many of our white neighbors—it would prove a curse to us; because, leading us from our true interest—[I suppose the "nobler idea"] the old gentleman hints at. What another idea for sane men!!!!—Position third: The Old Sage assumes "that after passing through all the stages of progress to competency, of development to position, we would start instinctively at the sound of our own bell, find ourselves bowing behind our own damask-cushioned chairs, and grasping at every white-wash brush that passed under our window," as if men's habits, thoughts, and actions were bent to, and formed, and moulded by their callings and pur[s]uits. He here adds a piece of moon-shine about "sudden wealth," as if men in the fair, honest and faithful discharge of their obligations in the field of enterprise, were apt to become suddenly wealth. Bah!!! Position fourth: "Though with wealth—positive wealth—hundred thousanders all—fine mansions, with marble front, greys on the avenues, out-riders and all, the whites would not associate with us." Upon this point, I would only remark, that if I could see the blacks in a thriving condition engaged in all the ways to competency and of improvement, it would little matter whether Miss Angelina Gracie rendered a sisterly kiss to Miss Jemima Jackson [whose grandmother once cooked somewhere] or not; or whether I sat at John Gracie's table, or Communipaw's.
For sure, though faces not like driven snow,
"I'd find there beauty, elegance and grace."
I confess, however, I have none of that over-estimate of Anglo-Saxon superiority [founded in nature] that I can see nothing outside of its pale, or nothing good in Nazareth, or that I should continually hanker after their society, merely because of their paleness, in preference to Africo Americans, especially when they become up to the mark Anglo's, and as the old Sage claims even now, in some respects, their superiors. If, when we get in that comfortable and happy condition herein mentioned, and the whites choose to fraternize, well; if not, neither the extreme whiteness of their skin, nor the flaxiness of their hair, ought to make me care a fig, nor any sane man or woman among us, nor do I believe they would.
But, says Communipaw, "we, as blacks, in this country, can get neither wealth nor position. Here, then, is a dilemma with three horns, one of which the old Sage is forced to hang himself upon, and must advise our people to follow suit. Let us examine these horns a little more minutely. Horn First: "We, as blacks, cannot obtain in this community, such businesses as produce wealth and improvement, and of course, can neither become wealthy nor improved; though the whites, through such means, secure both: hence, we must be content, or seek our elevation through some other, say "that nobler idea."["] Hang yourself upon the horn, old fellow!!! Or, Horn Second: Since we will not, nor should not be content with our present condition; and, as blacks, capacities, enterprise, nor developments will do for us what it will do for the whites, and what we demand, it follows, that we must leave the country. Hook yourself up there, my good Communipaw!!! Or, Horn Third: "Since, as blacks, we can neither develop, nor be developed, thrive nor rise, and yet determined not to leave the country; we have that other and only alternative left us, that is, to sneak out of our identity, as fast as possible—aye, like dogs, with heads down, and tails between their legs, so we slink out of our existence.["]
I doubt, my dear Communipaw, whether you are willing to hang yourself upon that horn. What! bargain ourselves away for naught! Sell ourselves for less than a [illegible] of pottage! God forbid!!! Abandon, in utter disgrace, our mission here? Palsied rather be our arm, and cleave our tongue to the roof of our mouth!!!! Now, while I have, my good sir, no very particular scruples about either identity or preservation, or change under fair and honorable circumstances, when the terms are equal, when the thing is done upon the level; still, this [felling] of ourselves, this ridding ourselves of ourselves, followed by the contempt of all—this forced annihilation of ourselves, with an entire surrender of everything manly, every noble
principle, to the most hellish prejudice of the land, with our own free will—this blotting of ourselves out of existence, aye, wiping out every stain of us, and that, too, by our own hand, lest we should even be heard in song, or remembered in story, I say to this—to the production of such a result. I am, as I believe you are, my dear Communipaw, not only opposed, with all my mind, and strength and soul, but hold it to be most foully unjust not only to ourselves and to mankind, but most abominably wicked in itself; and when claimed as the only basis of our elevation, as false in premises as the blackness of darkness; and if persisted in, we'll [illegible] a greater curse upon us, our name, our remembrance, or aught else of us, and upon the world, than has occurred since the beginning, or can this side the final consummation.
The old Sachem, by way of garnishing, makes some mention of falling stones, &c., and what he supposes to be a slip of our pen, however, is but a typographcal error.
Let me now re-write what I wrote on that occasion, for at least his better understanding, if not your numerous readers. I said that we, as blacks, could in this country, rise, aye, rise to the highest point. That the higher we rose, the keener our susceptibilities, and the swifter our progress. That, as a stone in its descent is accelerated, not only by its own weight, but by the force of gravity; so we, in our ascent, are accelerated, not only by our own upward pressure, but in addition, by the depth of sensibility of our condition. Bring out your long pipes, my old boy, and let us have a social smoke together, and chat the matter over. You may join, Mr. Editor, if you will.
Yours truly,
Ethiop.
Brooklyn Heights, Feb. 21, 185[2].