Historical Romance of the American Negro

by Charles Henry Fowler

Every now and then some surviving rebel in South Carolina, or some other of the late seceded States, takes upon himself to raise the old parrot-cry, "This is a white man's government! Colored men shall not rule with us!" If the national government did its full duty, it would arrest such a man as this for trying to teach the rising generation falsehoods, and for disturbing the minds of the lieges. This is not a white man's country, nor a black man's country, nor a red man's country—but it belongs to all alike. We have only to go back four hundred years, when this country belonged to the Indians, and if it belongs by right to anybody at all, it belongs to them. But Spaniards, Frenchmen, Englishmen and others came over the sea, they murdered or drove back the Indians, and stole away their lands. Then the self-same Europeans went to Africa, and killed and kidnapped the nations, and by physical force brought our ancestors here—and here we are at the present day. The war of revolution came; the colonists secured their own freedom, but they did not set their own slaves free. They complained that they were in subjection under the king of England, but they winked at the thraldom of our ancestors, and left us to languish in chains and slavery till the Lord sent the Civil War, and made us all free, while the three amendments to the Constitution put us on the self-same footing with white citizens, and here we are in our own country, part and parcel of the entire American population. This country, then, either belongs to the Lord from heaven, or it is the property of the North American Indian, or else it has become, in some way or other, the property of the whole of us. We had better not examine into our rights too closely, for we cannot go back more than four hundred years to establish our claims, and four hundred years will not go for much, especially with the owner—the Lord of Heaven.

[CHAPTER XXI.]

A General Review of the Writer's Entire Life and Work, and an Optimistic View of the Whole Subject, With Reflections and Observations and Forecasts of the Near Future.

When I left the place where I was born, in the year 1855, and made my lucky escape to a land of freedom, in company with my fiancee, Thomas Lincoln, I had no idea whatever of the future that lay before us, and of all the pleasant ways by which the Lord would lead us. It was well for both my darling Tom and me that we were the children of religious mothers, who taught us from our earliest infancy to love the Lord at all times, and to put our entire trust and confidence in Him. Tom and I had been accustomed to a delightful home at Riverside Hall, on the banks of the Ohio, and we knew nothing about the evils of slavery, like millions of others.

In the midst of such pleasant surroundings on the banks of the "Beautiful River," it seemed easy enough for us at the time to love the Lord and put our trust in Him; but whilst the great Creator was working out his sure decrees, we considered ourselves perfectly justified in taking the law into our own hands, and whereas we could not get our rights by fair means, to take them by foul. It has been well for Tom and me that we acted as we did; and the blessings thus vouchsafed to us in that way have descended to our dear children in a full state of freedom. But while we had little risks to run compared to many refugees, there were millions left behind us who could not get along. For what could frail and feeble women do surrounded as they were by every device and scheme that slavery and Satan could invent to keep their hold on what they presumptuously called their "property?" Thus our distressed brothers and sisters were obliged to wait for the coming of the Lord, and the wisest among them knew that His coming could not be long delayed, because the signs of the times pointed to a speedy deliverance, and a child could almost hear the loud and heavy rumblings in the heavens.

But, my dear reader, the "Lord works in mysterious ways His wonders to perform." We fondly expected and hoped to see freedom in our own day—"some sweet day"—but our minds were little prepared for its coming so soon. We heard the rumblings of the storm, indeed, but there had been other storms before, and they had blown over, and why should not this one go the same as they? That is the way that we poor, limited, erring human beings are likely to go aside and miss the mark. We judged of the rising storm of 1860 that it would be like those that had gone before it, but there was not a single being on the face of the earth who ever dreamed that we were at last drifting into a mighty war, that was to continue for over four years, and would sweep away slavery and all its belongings, as the mighty tides of the ocean wash away the foot-prints on the sands. It became clear as time and war went on, that the Almighty Ruler of the Universe had risen up to strike the earth, and that He would not smite a second blow, but finish things up now. He says in His sacred word that He will hear our prayers; our oppressed people had been crying to Him for many years, "How long, O Lord, how long!" The prayers of the distressed, their tears and cries, had been heard; they had all been duly chronicled in heaven; the day for settlement with the slave-holders had now fully come, and one of those mighty changes that have followed each other these last forty years with such rapidity was now at the door. Like the prompt railroad train, or, better still, the tide of the sea, the Lord of Heaven and Earth was ready and armed from head to foot; freedom was at the door, indeed and in truth, and the doors must be opened that captives should go free!

DICKENS' OLD CURIOSITY SHOP.

"What hath not God wrought?" Those more than four decisive years, so heavy with fate and destiny, looked long, very long, in passing, but ah! they brought changes to the entire colored race, both collectively and individually; and as slavery had grown more and more even down to the very year when the war began, so was the joy all the greater when it was all over, and bright shining freedom came suddenly at last. There was joy and rejoicing all over the United States at the result; dancing and singing from the Potomac to the Rio Grande in particular. So much for the whole race taken collectively. To us individually as a family, that mighty upheaval, the war, brought great and varied experiences—both sorrows and joy. When the first rush of wild enthusiasm against the rebellion was over, we all found out that we had to settle down to hard work, and four full years of war and fighting were before us. Thus the children and I saw Tom leave for the seat of war, and after many a hard-fought field, Tom was wounded so badly that he lay for a long time at New Orleans. We had done an immense quantity of correspondence by this time, but more changes wrought through and by the war were at hand. The whole American nation was undergoing changes, and so were we! The children and I longed with all our hearts to see husband and father once more. He was not yet well enough to travel to Buffalo; indeed, the military authorities forbade it, and so we three determined to tear up stakes at Buffalo for a time, and make a sudden and unexpected march on the city of New Orleans. This was not my first visit to the Crescent City of the Sunny South. As my dear reader is already well aware, I went there about the year 1856, and rescued my dear mother from slavery, which I consider one of the very best things that ever I did in this world! This journey to New Orleans was a most glorious experience, for the girls in particular, and they are even talking of it now. When we were in the Lower Mississippi, we had a good time to look about us and see what a mighty work the sword of the North had already done for that section of the Union. The colored people were all free, and thousands were flocking to schools just newly set up, and learning as people had never learned before. The rebels, and all those that sympathized with them, used to say that if the slaves were set free, they would turn in and massacre their former owners, and become regular heathens and savages. This was, of course, nothing but a silly parrot-cry that nobody seriously believed, as no colored man had any other intention than to become a peaceable citizen. But during our delightful residence in the Sunny South we saw those who had been slaves in that section all working away upon the lands, and in the towns and cities, in perfect freedom, and their lives were both orderly and exemplary. But what surprised us most was to see them going to work with first readers, spelling books, slates and pencils, and all the other appliances of education, and gathering knowledge like the sands of the sea. This, indeed, augured well for the future—to see people even seventy and eighty years of age learning to read, write and figure like the rest! Here was a field of bright promise for the near future. Here was a race of people, just set free, grasping at the lowermost round of the ladder of education, and ambitious to mount higher every day.