Papers from Overlook-House

by Frederic W. Beasley

Then too I could avail myself of the ingenious devices of praise, by a denial of infirmities.

"In him there was nothing for effect—nothing that was theatrical—nothing done to cause the vulgar to stare with astonishment. No pompous equipage, no hurried drives, no sudden summons from the dwellings of his friends, as if patients required his sudden attendance—no turgid denomination of little objects by words of thundering sound—no ordering the simple placing of the feet in hot water, as Pediluvium,—none of those arts were employed by the subject of our Biography, to acquire or extend his practice, or build up his great fame."

I also found some of the letters of the Doctor. Let me attempt the work of Alchemy again. Let me transform some passage into the proper language of Modern Biography.

Thus I find this sentence in a letter to Colonel Tupp: "Some of our negroes in New Jersey are very troublesome, and some wise plan should be devised lest they become a heavy burden——"

"It would appear"—thus should it be erected into Biographical effect—"that the Doctor, to be named always with so much veneration, was probably one of the first of our men of giant minds, to foresee the dangers of the problem involved in the existence of the African race, in the new world. I claim him—on the evidence of his familiar epistolary correspondence—as the originator of the great movements of statesmen and philosophers, for its solution. He gave, beyond all contradiction, that impulse to the energetic thought, which has led to all the plans for the elevation of those, who bear 'God's image cut in ebony.' As we trace the voice to the distant fountain—or the immense circle of fire on our prairies, to the sparks elicited by the careless traveler from the small flint, so as I recall the present innumerable discussions on this sable subject, I refer them all to the unpretending utterances of this great man. I recur to the small village where he dwelt. His study, his favorite retreat, is before me. There, at the table, illuminated as it were with his manuscript, I see his impressive form. Near him are the pestle and mortar; the various jars on which are labels in such unknown words, that the country people regard them as if they were the ingredients for the sorcerer,—his coat,—his books,—his minerals,—such are his surroundings.

"There in that study—he first in the unostentatious effusions of a private letter, suggests the seed of those convictions, which led to the formation of the Colonization Society. No fanaticism, however, has marked and disfigured the stately forms of his thoughts, on the subject of the extinction of slavery. Let not the readers of this Biography at the Sunny South, imagine that he designed an interference with their possessions. There is evidence of the perfect balance of his mind on this subject, in the fact, that he designates them, in another letter, written probably after this one, which contains the immortal sentence, in which he employs a word, which in printed syllables, with the exception of one repeated letter in the English, resembles the Roman adjective for Black,—but whose pronunciation rejected the classical usage.

"I am aware that those who love his memory will be compelled to do battle for the honors which they justly claim for these and other anticipations of later movements in the world of wisdom and philanthropy. As Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, only to have his claim a subject of dispute, so our great Philosopher will find those to detract from his merits, and maintain that the great efforts to which we have alluded were of later origination."

While I speak upon this subject of the African discussion, I may remark that there is a singular discovery which I have made, as I have searched his papers, and concerning which I am in doubt, whether it should be delegated to oblivion or made the subject of ingenuous confession. I am aware that obscurity throws its shadow over the topic. I am also aware that I may hereby cast a suspicion of the spirit of a wild projector, over the subject of this memoir. I think, however, and believe that I do not flatter myself unjustly, that I have guarded against such a wrong by the delineation I have given of his calm and reflecting character.

The circumstances which my pen is somewhat reluctant to trace for fear of misapprehension, are these: I find in a letter to a friend the remark, "You would be no less startled by the assertion, that I could transform the African into a white man, than to learn from me that my Cæsar has become sedulous in the discharge of his duties, and ceased to slumber by the kitchen fire when he should be at his work at the wood-shed."

Now observe this ominous suggestion about the transformation of the physical characteristics of those who have been translated among us from the land of sandy deserts. Here is a hint of the physical transformation of a black man into a white. And then I must add that I find two small pieces of paper lying near the letter, which seem to corroborate my view, which papers, I candidly confess,—here is the ground of hesitation, the momentum which disturbs the mind seemingly on the eve of its rest, might indeed have been prescriptions saved by accident, or have been hints on the subject of the transformation of the race of darkened skins. One of these fragments contains the words, "Elixir to remove the dark pigment which causes the surface discrimination"—on the other, "For the removal of odorous accidentals." I am willing to leave the subject to the consideration of my readers.