William J. Watkins to Frederick Douglass, January 26, 1854
Letter from Wm. J. Watkins.
—
BOSTON, Jan. 26th, 1854.
FRIEND DOUGLASS:—I saw a sight to-day
which one cannot behold every day in the
year—a rara avis which astonished me even
more than the infamous declaration of the
runaway Mitchel, that to whip women, steal
babies and sell them, is neither a "sin or
a pecadillo."
What was the sight, think you? Now,
that your curiosity is excited, I will tell you.
I was wending my way through Washing-
ington St., all solitary and alone, (no, not
alone, for I had the "Autographs" with me,
and they are excellent company,) and a
gentleman of a "rich brown" complexion,
arrayed in all the paraphernalia of a would-
be peacock, thus addressed me:—"Are you
not the gentleman who lectured in Mr.
Grimes' Church the other night." Yes, I
responded. "Well, who is that man you
were speaking about, named Douglass? I
never heard of him. Is he a white man, or a
colored man?" I looked at him intently for
a moment, and after surveying him closely
from head to foot, anxiously inquired who
were his parents, and where he was born?
He replied, "I was raised in Virginia." And
said I, you never heard of Mr. Douglass?—Upon his assuring me that in the most positive
manner he had not, I tho't I'd carry out the
joke, and taking him on one side, I told him
in a whisper, if he promised to keep it a se-
crete, I'd shew him the likeness of Mr. D.
He promised never to say anything to any
one, (emphasizing the last two words,) and I
shewed him the Autograph, containing your
likeness, which he promised to purchase.—I then left him, intending to place him in
my memorandum book, in loving proximity
with the white lady who, the other day, in-
formed me she had not read Uncle Tom's
Cabin.
By the way, the Autograph is much ad-
mired. Everybody wants to see the pictures,
and the "identical" hand-writing affixed to
the various articles of which the book is
composed.
I wish I had received them (the books
forwarded to me) sooner; by this time I
could have disposed of all of them. The
weather has been inclement, that my pro-
gress has been somewhat retarded. I am
anxious to return to Rochester; and though
my friends in Boston have offered me many
inducements to remain here, I must say tha[t]
I would be doing detriment to my own feel-
ings, were I to accept the occupacy of any
other position than my present one.
If I live, I think I shall continue living
in Rochester, and await the reception of
that "reflex influence" of which our friend
Whitfield so eloquently descants.
And I would like to remark, that this Emi-
gration movement does not find much favor
among the colored people of Boston. They
do not intend to be frightened from their
homes by the soul-harrowing screams of
the American eagle; the die is cast; slavery
must die, and colored Bostonians desire to
remain here, and sing the monster's funeral
requiem.
I wonder if the hollow-hearted, shallow-
pated Mitchel will be in Alabama then with
his "healthy negroes," or not? I rather
think the fellow is now conscious that he has
overshot the mark. Americans, you know,
are not particularly partial to foreign inter-
meddlers.
I stepped into the Melodeon a few min-
utes ago, the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery So-
ciety being in session. Rev. Sam. J. May
informed the audience that John Mitchel
would be handled in the evening. And de-
pend upon it, he will be handled with a hand
of iron. The attendance is not large, the
weather being very unfavorable to holding
public meetings. But there will be enough
in attendance to say Amen to the damnation
of the tyrant "patriot!"
I see by the papers that Wm. H. Day has,
by formal vote, been ruthlessly driven
from the "reporter's place" in the Ohio
Legislature, because he happens to have a
little of the hated blood in him. Everything
is being done by this despotic nation to crush
the poor colored man, to pluck out his heart
for the devouring wolf of American preju-
dice to prey on. But the end is not yet.
Retribution is on the wing. The Ohio Leg-
islature may now refuse to have the light of
Day, but the time is coming when the
cheering sunshine will refuse to look upon
the haggard visages of the tyrants who voted
to thrust him out. We would not for the
world change positions with the enemy.—We would rather be identified with the op-
pressed, than with the oppressor.
The angel of Hope still hovers o'er us,
and gently pours the "oil of joy" into our
lacerated hearts. The success of our cause
depends not upon the numbers who advo-
cate it, but upon the ceasless vigilance and
untiring assiduity of the few arrayed against
the many. In reality, it is dependent upon
no one's advocacy. Slavery is destined to
die, for it is mortal. Truth, the moral grav-
itation of God's universe, is one the side of
humanity. And Truth will live and burn,
amid the tempest and the storm, for God hath
stamped it with the impress of imperishable
life. But each one must do his and her duty.
An individual responsibility rests upon us.
The slave will be free; but if you and I, and
all around us do not help accelerate the day of
his redemption, God will enter into judgment
with us. May each one, then, at all times,
in all places, and under all circumstances,
be found doing something for those who can-
not help themselves.
Yours, &c., W. J. W.