1. The first point to which we feel especially bound to take exception, is your attempt to found a policy opposed to our enfranchisement, upon the alleged ground of an existing hostility on the part of the former slaves toward the poor white people of the South. We admit the existence of this hostility, and hold that it is entirely reciprocal. But you obviously commit an error by drawing an argument from an incident of slavery, and making it a basis for a policy adapted to a state of freedom. The hostility between the whites and blacks of the South is easily explained. It has its root and sap in the relation of slavery, and was incited on both sides by the cunning of the slave masters. Those masters secured their ascendancy over both the poor whites and blacks by putting enmity between them.
They divided both to conquer each. There was no earthly reason why the blacks should not hate and dread the poor whites when in a state of slavery, for it was from this class that their masters received their slave-catchers, slave-drivers, and overseers. They were the men called in upon all occasions by the masters whenever any fiendish outrage was to be committed upon the slave. Now, sir, you cannot but perceive that, the cause of this hatred removed, the effect must be removed also. Slavery is abolished.... You must see that it is altogether illogical to legislate from slaveholding premises for a people whom you have repeatedly declared it your purpose to maintain in freedom.
2. Besides, even if it were true, as you allege, that the hostility of the blacks toward the poor whites must necessarily project itself into a state of freedom, and that this enmity between the two races is even more intense in a state of freedom than in a state of slavery, in the name of heaven, we ask how can you, in view of your professed desire to promote the welfare of the black man, deprive him of all means of defense, and clothe him whom you regard as his enemy in the panoply of political power? Can it be that you recommend a policy which would arm the strong and cast down the defenseless?... Peace between races is not to be secured by degrading one race and exalting another; by giving power to one race and withholding it from another; but by maintaining a state of equal justice between all classes.
3. On the colonization theory you were pleased to broach, very much could be said. It is impossible to suppose, in view of the usefulness of the black man in time of peace as a laborer in the South, and in time of war as a soldier in the North ... that there can ever come a time when he can be removed from this country without a terrible shock to its prosperity and peace. Besides, the worst enemy of the nation could not cast upon its fair name a greater infamy than to admit that Negroes could be tolerated among them in a state of the most degrading slavery and oppression, and must be cast away, driven into exile, for no other cause than having been freed from their chains.[24]
The open letter written, one of the delegation hurried away with it to the press. They had repaired to the home of John F. Cook, Washington member of the delegation. He invited Douglass to remain for the night, but Douglass explained that he had yet another appointment and that he was expected at the home of an old friend. Douglass now stood up and, shaking his shoulders, made ready to leave.
The weather outside was nasty. A wet, driving snow had turned the streets into muddy slush; the wooden sidewalks were slippery and the crossings were ditches of black water. Douglass fastened his boots securely and turned up the collar of his coat.
“Can you find your way, Douglass?” asked Dr. Cook. “The streets are so poorly lighted, and on a night like this a stranger could easily get lost. If you’ll wait a little I’ll be glad to—”
Douglass interrupted. “No, indeed, Doctor. I know the way very well. It’s not far.”
Meanwhile, “Miss Amelia” was finding Francis Cardoza good company. He was one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. The little lady’s eyes twinkled, and her cheeks were flushed.
Tom’s widow was not as spry as she once was. Days and nights of nursing in the Soldiers’ Home had brought weights heavier than years upon her valiant frame. Now she was old. But she could take things easy. Jack Haley was head of the house. The boarders could not be prevailed upon to move, and the dark woman in the kitchen would have served just as faithfully without wages. Frederick’s supper was being kept warm on the back of the stove and his room was ready. She lifted the shade and peered anxiously out into the dark night.