THE FREEDMEN OF AMERICA.
During the four years' war commencing 1861 the colored people fled from bondage, and gathered in large numbers around Washington, and in those parts of Virginia which were in possession of the United States Government. Sometimes one thousand refugees came to the freedmen's settlement in a week, and most of them had travelled on foot for several days, with scant food and clothing. They rejoiced greatly when they arrived at a place of refuge, and became free men and women. The able-bodied men were employed by the Government, but the sick and aged, the women and children, were cared for by different benevolent associations of the churches at the North and West. The Religious Society of Friends always cherished a deep feeling for the enslaved people of color, and after sending agents to ascertain the condition of the freedmen in the camps and quarters assigned to them by the Government, they earnestly labored to feed, clothe and teach those for whom they had long solicited the boon of freedom.
Believing some incidents and anecdotes from letters received from the agents of Friends will be interesting to many, the following extracts are presented:
"It is difficult to make a connected account of our visit among the freedmen at Washington and elsewhere. We went into their cabins, the tents, and the hospitals, looking into the condition of the poor people congregated there. Their stories may be considered almost trifling in themselves, and yet summed up as a whole—a people's history—they tell the oft-repeated tale of sorrow, degradation, and oppression in slavery; of hunger and cold, of sickness and suffering, patiently and uncomplainingly borne, in their great struggle for freedom. Every sacrifice, every privation seems insignificant compared to the blessed boon of liberty, to them and to their children. 'The good Lord Jesus has at last heard our prayers and sent Uncle Abram to set us free.'
"They come to the Union as little children would to a parent, with perfect confidence that they will be helped. The younger women mostly had their children with them, but the older ones had all come off 'wid 'lations and friends.' In a severe snow-storm one thousand arrived, with only the clothes on their backs. Their utter poverty is terrible. During this storm we had not clothes for the children, who were crying to get out of bed. Nine hundred came yesterday—all ragged; their masters had not given them clothes, some for a year, others for two years. All beg for Bibles."
"The rope-walk is a very long building divided into cabins; it is where the refugees come at first. In each cabin live four or five families. It is the most interesting place to visit. There are over five hundred people there, fresh from slave-life, and rejoicing over their freedom. Not being able to read, they often burst out as we are reading to them with, 'Well, I never heard that before.'
"The beautiful doctrine of the golden rule seems almost new to them. It is true the religious element is very strong in them, but their manner of receiving it is very different from our ideas. Although they may be what they call converted, they need plain words of moral truth for every-day life. They have plenty of faith and thankfulness, but not Christ's law of love in their hearts to govern every action.
"We stopped at a church and witnessed one of their religious excitements—women all rocking their bodies and singing weird choruses; then some one getting excited above the others, and throwing herself about, jumping and screaming. We stayed until they were out, and all down the aisles they sang and shouted—real fine, full voices, and the words more strange than all. All the women had that swaying motion so peculiar to them.
"The boxes were handed over to me on the 19th of January. From that date to the 7th of May, I have given out twenty-six hundred and twenty garments, large and small. For the last ten days we have been very busy. During the last engagement on the battle-field, hundreds have come, more than can possibly find shelter here. I have witnessed some of the arrivals at the depôt. At the sound of the whistle, many anxious hearts and longing eyes are seeking their friends. Here mothers find their long-lost children. Husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, meet after long separation. One good old mother here found six of her children in one group. One poor mother, with seven children, was inquiring for her husband: the answer was, 'he is dead!' The small-pox left that record for this poor mother.
"We saw one noble-looking man, not far from seven feet high, in mere rags and bare feet. Our No. 12's looked like baby-shoes beside them; but I heard of a pair of No. 19 at the Commissary, which they were very glad to exchange. The old man had had a hard master, and had been driven off 'without food enough to cover a pin.' But I never saw such a flash of joy as when I said, 'But, uncle, you have such a good, kind master now, and such a beautiful home up in heaven.' 'Oh, missis, it's that, it's jest that, that's 'stained me all along.' They all seemed so grateful, and we had a happy day indeed."
"They learn surprisingly fast; they were very anxious to learn to reckon. I said I would repeat the multiplication table if they would try to remember it. I repeated the 2's once, and they said it after me in concert. I then questioned them, and though they had never heard it before, quite a number remembered the whole.
"One little fellow in the school being asked if he knew his letters, said, promptly, 'Yes, ma'am.'
"Well, what else do you know?
"Drawing himself up to his full height, which might be about four feet, he replied, 'I know a heap.'"
"Freedman's Village, near Arlington, is really an attractive-looking place; comfortable houses, nicely white-washed; a school-house, capable of accommodating two or three hundred children, and a 'Home' for the aged and infirm. Fervor and earnestness pervade the sermons and prayers of the colored people here. One gave thanks for 'the glorious privilege that we ain't all dead and shut up in hell.'
"Some of us might not have realized before that it was a glorious privilege to be still left on earth, either as faithful servants, to do the Master's bidding, or to become reconciled to Him before we were snatched away with no alternative but to be 'shut up in hell.'
"You would have been touched to witness their grief at the death of our beloved President. Every tenanted hut was decked with some badge of mourning. Thousands went to look at their emancipator, as he lay in state in the White House. Aunt Cicily, who bore the yoke of slavery one hundred and ten years, looked on Mr. Lincoln with a reverential feeling, beautiful to behold in one so aged—'for the privilege,' she says, 'that he gave me to die free.'"
"Some old men who had learned to read while in slavery, said, 'We toted massa's children to school, stayed all day, and then toted them back. We learned to read, and massa didn't know it; and now we can read de blessed Book ourselves. De good people of de North have been bery good, bery good to us. Jesus tell dem to help de poor slave: by-and-by we can help ourselves. We tank you all bery much!' Mother, child, and grandchild sometimes go hand-in-hand to the school-room. The stimulating motive with most of the adults is a fervent desire to read the Bible."
"The marriage record kept among the Freedmen, shows that a large part of the marriages, especially at first, were of those who had lived together as husband and wife, perhaps many years, without an opportunity to be legally united. One old man, of almost three-score and ten, was thus joined in lawful marriage to his venerable wife. At the conclusion of the ceremony, when the pastor extended his hand with the nuptial benediction, and dismissed them with a short prayer, they dropped on their knees together, their eyes streaming with tears of thankfulness, and still kneeling, the old man reached out both arms and hugged her to his heart, saying aloud, 'My dear old woman, I bless God that I can now, for the first time, kiss my own lawful wife.'"
An agent, under date 5th month, 1863, writes:
"When I first wrote to thee, the supply of excellent clothing, furnished by New York Friends, and other quarters, seemed so ample that, to my eyes, the subject of further need, did not suggest itself. I thought the time must come when such wants must be satisfied. But that time dawns not yet. The hospitals for colored people are a heavy drain on the clothing. Now, that the army advances, there are daily arrivals of freedmen; they come with only the clothing they have on, and must have a change to preserve health."