The Exposition officials appreciated the importance of the man, as well as his position as the Haytian Commissioner. No honors were unshared by him on account of his race. Whenever the representative men of the civilized governments met in administrative councils, Frederick Douglass was an honored guest and participant. His old-time eloquence was aroused on many interesting occasions, and especially when the cause of the Negro needed a champion. An official of the Exposition was reported as saying that Frederick Douglass, more than any other orator there, voiced the sentiment of the brotherhood of man. While various representatives would extol the people of this or that government or nationality, this self-made and self-educated man of a belated race, was always insisting that the man himself, as God made him, was greater than any geographical or national label could possibly render him.
He was constantly sought for addresses on all kinds of occasions, and he generously responded, whether the call came from some obscure religious organization, literary society, or one of the great international parliaments, convened in connection with the Exposition.
There were two very notable addresses by him in the summer of 1893, that almost excel the best of his many great speeches. One of these was made on what was known as “Negro Day” at the Exposition in the month of August. The vast auditorium in Music Hall was filled by an audience that was more thoroughly international in the variety of races represented, than any other gathering assembled during the progress of the Fair. In voice, gesture, and spirit, he seemed like some great prophet, bearing a message to the civilized world. No one who listened to this masterful plea for justice for the Negro race, can ever forget the inspiration of that hour.
The other speech was delivered before one of the parliaments on the subject of “good government.” There were present students of civil government, sociologists, judges of courts, representatives of the woman’s suffrage movement, like Susan B. Anthony, and others. Some striking addresses followed Douglass’s, but he had left the audience completely under his spell.
With the closing of the Exposition in the autumn of 1893, ended the last chapter in his life as a public official. As office-holding, however, was by no means the most important part of his career, it did not require an office to keep him in view of the people. His prominence outlasted that of many of his contemporaries who were more favored than he in the matter of public service. He remained, up to the very last hour of his life, one of the few men of the nation of whom it never tired. This was so, largely because he was more a part of the present than of the past. Though he compassed in his life over a half-century of national history, he never got out of touch with current events, retaining to the end his influence on public opinion in all those matters in which he was peculiarly interested, and in regard to which his views had special authority.
When he closed his official business with the World’s Fair, he yielded to a strong pressure from the people of the West for a limited course of lectures. The one thing which induced him to undertake this arduous task, after the months of exhausting duties at the Exposition, was the opportunity it would offer him to speak his word of protest and condemnation of the crime of lynching. Nothing in his long life of anxiety and struggle for his race so depressed him as did this new manifestation of contempt for his people. His first itinerary included Des Moines, Omaha, and other cities. He was cordially received everywhere and his denunciation of mob law made a deep impression. These addresses were in the nature of his last message and warning to the American people against the unchecked lawlessness that spent itself on those who were not strong enough to protect themselves.
He returned to his restful and delightful home in Washington with some apparent fatigue, but no permanent harm in consequence of his long journey.
The last two years of his life seem to have been more free from care and active duties than any previous period. He merited a rest and he had everything about him to contribute to his ease and enjoyment. Among the trees and flowers of his ample grounds on Cedar Hill, and surrounded by his books and the comforts of his classic home, life went on serenely and happily.
One of the interesting sights here was the procession of people of all kinds making pilgrimages every day to the home of “the Sage of Anacostia,”[[6]] as he was fondly called by his friends and neighbors. Thousands of colored persons visited him to pay their respects to the man whose life had been consecrated to the cause of their emancipation and citizenship. To all he was kindly and considerate. His mind was as alert and keen as ever, and thoroughly alive to passing events. He had a special fondness for the young men of his race, and particularly those who were educated and progressive. It was always an inspiration to him to see the numbers of young colored men, who were fitting themselves by study and application to pass civil service examinations, and gain for themselves positions of importance in all departments of the government. He frequently invited them to his home to dine with him, and would discuss with them the possibilities for their advancement in all lines of endeavor. He was always hopeful regarding the progress of these young men in business and in the professions.
[6]. Anacostia is a suburb of Washington, and was Frederick Douglass’s home so long as he lived in the District of Columbia.