William G. Allen to Frederick Douglass, November 12, 1852
Frederick Douglass, Esq:
Dear Sir:—
The following wing sketch of Beriah Green was written by a young lady, student of N. Y. Central College. I have ventured to send it to you, believing you will take pleasure in publishing it as a just and beautiful tribute to one of the great-hearted men of earth.—Who has not heard of Beriah Green? For fifteen years he presided over Oneida Institute, teaching by precept and daily example the doctrine of the equality and brotherhood of our race. Among the earliest of anti-slavery reformers, no one has labored more assiduously than he to bring about the time when
"Worth, not birth, shall note mankind,
And be acknowledged stronger."
Nor has anyone, at any time, brought to the cause of humanity an intellect of greater vigor, a more comprehensive philosophy, or a heart more thoroughly imbued with just and generous sympathies. He is a devoted Christian—a more powerful preacher; and though in comparative retirement, he is doubtless working out some great thought for the good of the cause, to which he has given his heart, his intellect, his reputation, his all. He was my teacher. I know him to love him; for he was more than my teacher—he was my friend and benefactor.
"A month since I listened for the first time to Beriah Green. And such a speech! I shall never forget it. He is an older man than I supposed him to be, with hair which I should say had been fair when he was young, and rendered still lighter, though not silvery, by age. Eyes of soft, benevolent blue beam beneath a large, but not massive brow. A flush kindled on his cheeks as he proceeded, and an expression which I can only term beautiful, though I fear it may seem misapplied, lit up a glow over his countenance, which told of the great, but gentle heart which throbbed beneath those simple garments. The sweet expression about the lips, the gentle mildness of the blue eye, and the pale hair falling over the high forehead, suggested to my mind thoughts of the old Northern poets.
I do not remember whether he made use of any gestures: indeed, I hardly think I knew at the time, for one scarcely seemed to see the speaker. His voice was not loud, it was rather low than otherwise; yet I am sure I heared every word distinctly.
And there stood that old man, speaking in his low, calm tones, and built up the pyramid of his argument. Indeed it seemed to me like the temple of Solomon - a pile reared without the noise of saw or hammer, but growing gradually, silently up to heaven.—It was as if one were alone in the universe with that single fabric before him, its firm foundations resting upon the earth, but its spires lost amid the clouds. Every thought seemed as a precious, highly polished stone, standing in its own place, beautiful in itself and tending to the strength and symmetry of a matchless whole.
Sometimes, as you listened, your soul seemed to burn: a hot, oppressive feeling flushed your cheek and brow, and your breath came hurriedly and painfully. Again, ere you knew it, the warm tears were upon your cheeks, and a feeling of unalterable, weary sorrow heaved your heart. Then, at times, you saw nothing; the small church, with its simple seats and crowd of people, disappeared, and you heard a voice, not as "the voice of many waters," but the calm, low, earnest voice of the speaker.
But his closing words! O, that you could have heard them! He thre aside the paper, and raising his voice a little, his soul seemed to manifest itself visibly to his audience. They were brief, burning words, yet polished as human language may be. For a moment a shiver of excitement passed over me; I rather panted than breathed, and a feeling, half ecstacy, half awe possessed me. I saw not the speaker; I only saw in his argument the sublime miracle which a masterly mind had wrought. It was as if an angel from heaven had touched with a coal from off God's high altar the lips of the man before me. With a matchless grace, and each thought as divinely beautiful as if it had been born in heaven, he fashioned the last and crowning stone."
Before closing, allow me to say that the present term of New York Central College has been a grand one in the means of moral and intellectual improvement which our friends from afar have afforded us. We have had here this term Frederick Douglass, Rev. Mr. Fox, Gerrit Smith, Lucy Stone, Antoinette L. Brown, and Rev. Dr. Kay, missionary from Africa. All these have talked to us out of the abundance of their hearts. The feast throughout has not only been high and brilliant, but invigorating we trust to the heart and the conscience. We hold these friends in the most greatful remembrance, and ask that heaven's richest blessings may attend them.
Since writing the above, we have received intelligence of the election of Gerrit Smith. "The Lord reigneth. Let the earth rejoice, and the multitude of isles be glad thereof." Now may we say, in the language of the eloquent Garnet, altering the figure a little—"The star of our hope has risen above the horizon."
Scott, too, is defeated, and the Whig party destroyed—evincing further the justice of God, and that "His justice will not sleep forever." The clouds are breaking away.
A friend at my side has just whispered to me that I had better tell you that I voted on election day—of course for freedom—and voted too in spite of the law which makes a man's right to vote to depend upon his donkey, or upon the fact that his mother was born in Guinea or in the moon. I need to describe in detail the argument which I employed on the occasion. I was based upon the peculiar rendering which I gave to the phrase, "man of color," as found in the constitution. It was effective. The polls were thronged, and the scene throughout, especially the maneuvering of the bystanders to get a good sight of the conflict, would not have been unworthy of a painter. It was a victory on my part, and such a one as makes me feel that were the colored people of this country more spirited and determined, more bold in the assertion of their rights, and less inclined to yield to the dictum of their oppressors, they would accomplish more for themselves, and for the cause of our common humanity. I feel an enviable degree of self respect in view of the transaction. The board of inspectors, I am happy to say, treated me with marked respect: and though there were some bitterly predjudiced ones at the polls, I did not even encounter a challenge of my vote.
Faithfully yours,
Wm. G. Allen.