Ethiop (William J. Wilson) to Frederick Douglass, August 13, 1852
From Our Brooklyn Correspondent.
Dear Douglass: — The tide of gayety and fashion here is fast ebbing; in fact, the stream is already so low, that it can scarcely be called a rivulet. Beiles and Leaux, gouty old gentlemen and [illegible] dames, starched old maids, and pale, thin visaged bachelors, are all fleeing from the heated [illegible] and the scorching rays of the mid-summer's sun, to the cooling shades of the mountain tops, river banks and hill sides of the surrounding country. There is nothing to entice one to stay here, and everything to bid one away. One thing above all others tends to increase the heat, and urge respectable people from hence; and that is the politidal cauldron. Jupiter! how it begins to boil!! What ingredients it already contains!!! What are being put into it!!! — What fumes are emitted from it!!! Daily may one sigh to be away from this place. — Even the bull frogs from the marshes of Gawanus, where revolutionary memory still lingers, and the bones of her patriots still cling—even there have well nigh ended their crocus-like song; their last notes are dying out—and monition of the approach of [illegible], bidding us away. And so I lay panting upon the swad[r] before my humble [hut], and watching the smoke from its rustic chimney, lazily curling up, unmolested by even a breath of air, to join [illegible] clouds above, the soft mellow carol of the little birds from the scattered clumps of trees, far away from the Town (blest little warblers they dare not venture nearer,) comes wooingly to my car, and the sweet but plaintive cooings of the turtle dove from the distant dell—these, these all beckon me away from this place of stay,
To some far off hill or distant dell,
Or where the sea her billows lave.
And now whither shall I turn? WHISPER, here among the black circles, echoes Newport. I say, my dear Douglass, what kind of a figure would Ethiop and his veritable blue coat, tight pants, lace boots, and broad collar, cut, up at this place, where, I am told, all the fashionable black and white, dress powder and perfume, at least four times per day? Inclination strongly points that way—I may say it is divided between it and the
Flats. In my last, I took occasion to say something of the indifference of our people towards our clever men and clever deeds; and now, my dear sir, tell me why it is, that, while the journals of the country are teeming with accounts of the Haytian Empire, daily; the coronation of Faustin the I. and his imperial courts—costly daggers of superior workmanship and beauty, sent as presents from American gentlemen to this sable Emperor—Congress petitioned, country beseeched and entreated in behalf of his Empire—why all this on the part of the white public, while not a single line, good, bad or indifferent, has appeared upon the whole matter from a single writer or scribbler from the shady side, with the fact of his acknowledged ability, able administration and splendid court before them?—Is it because he is thus a black sovereign?—
Let some of these gentlemen furnish the answer. By the way, can't we have the head of his sable majesty by our neighbor from the Flats? You also, my dear Douglass, ought to have an able correspondent at his black imperial majesty's courts, catering up all the rich danties that fall therefrom for the benefit of your readers. Jove! what delicious repast must be found there!—What luxuries there must be withheld from us! See to it my dear sir, see to it.
The bier has passed the streets of New York, but the lifeless form of Henry Clay was not there! The pageant is over; and, like the Hungarian and similar pageants, was overdone. But as that was a bid for the sale of muskets and saddles, so was this for the sale of goods and wares. But he is gone! not to legislate, but to submit to a higher than earthly legislation. I doubt if the question there will be as it was here with him in relation to the black—what shall be done with him? On the contrary, he will be consigned to the place he merits without a question. Seeing the tune to which most of the journals here (Tribuneleading off) sing over his virtues, and his grave, I am half tempted to give you another, a very different tune from a sable member, a near relation of old Hal's family—one who knows more of the private history of [...] private habits and internal condition of his family, the old woman, including those sons we hear so much of, and some we don't hear of, together with the slaves sold, and unsold, than all the newspaper scribblers, demagogues, liars, knaves and fools, between Maine and Texas, from the Atlantic thence round to the Pacific. Who was this body servant of this Kentuckian? What relation did he hear to his master? Why did he not leave him when offered his freedom? Why did he become a drunken sot, a very beast? Who was that other body servant? Why did he commit suicide? What the cause of his murder? Who, in fact, was his murderer? Tell me; and as ye do so, blush ye pious eulogists, philosophers and moralists! Why did not old MR. CLAY accompany this moral man, this patron of virtue, to Washington these many years? Why did she leave off? Why not there even as his sick-bed? Why not there to close his dying eyes? Tell me again: and as ye do so, blush religionists, moralists, philosophers, hypocrites! Really, it is a pity, since ye did not make him President, ye had not sent him as missionary to the Mormons to have reformed their morals and legislated away their rights of plurality of WIVES, or women, since it has become a government question.
Communipaw very learnedly mutters something about Ethiop's weak form of reasoning. This is characteristic of one in his state. Weakness of mind sees strength only in itself. A drunken man always sees trees, houses, lamp-posts and men, if not too small for his vision, staggering and reeling about, while he himself only is erect. Very good! have it so neighbor Communipaw; still, I cannot refrain from remarking, that, had your vision been less obscured, had it not been weaker than my reasoning, instead of wondering at my supposed case, you might have seen that nothing else was necessary for the point at issue, just then, between our mutual friend Barry and myself. "Why suppose a case," you ask? Now, neighbor, I think it scarcely necessary to break a man's arm in order to convince a sane community that a skilful and practical surgeon can set it.—Is the matter plain enough now? As to my schooling; I frankly own, that privilege was denied me; certainly to the extent of some of the silk-stocking young gentlemen of my time, who, while dreaming over bad Latin and other fulsome stuff, I was ploughing the fields of my fathers, and preparing for the harvest; and being rather small, the plough-tales and rake-handle, frequently thumping either side of my head, may have hardened it some, sufficient, certainly, to make me discard all the rules of false logic, and foolish sophistry, nor can all the powers of Communipaw Flats make me follow them. I never did: I never will. I prefer plain common sense as my guide. My dear Douglass, tell this very learned sage so.
Yours truly,
Ethiop.