“Douglass! Douglass! There is Frederick Douglass!”
After that there was no further question of ignoring Douglass at the convention. But any ambitions which he might have had for a political career cooled. He realized that a thorough-going “politician” might well have acceded to the delegates’ politely expressed wish “for the good of the party,” but he knew that he would never place the good of the party above the good of the people as a whole. After the adoption of the Fourteenth and Fifteen Amendments, both white and colored people urged him to move to one of the many districts of the South where there was a large colored vote and get himself a seat in Congress. No man in the country had a larger following. But the thought of going to live among people simply to gain their votes was repugnant to his self-respect. The idea did not square with his better judgment or sense of propriety.
When he was called to Washington to edit the New Era he began to turn the thought over in his mind. The problem of what to do with himself after the Anti-Slavery Society disbanded had been taken care of. He was in demand as a lecturer in colleges, on lyceum circuits and before literary societies. Where before he had considered himself well-off with his four-hundred-fifty- to five-hundred-dollar-a-year salary, he now received one hundred, one hundred fifty, or two hundred dollars for a single lecture. His children were grown. Lewis was a successful printer, Rosetta was married, and the youngest son was teaching school on the Eastern Shore of Maryland not far from St. Michaels.
Douglass had campaigned for Ulysses S. Grant because he was fond of, and believed in, Grant. There had been scarcely any contest. The people were sick to death of the constant wrangling which had been going on in Congress. President Johnson’s impeachment had fizzled like a bad firecracker. The kindest thing they said about Johnson was that he was weak. Everybody agreed that what was needed now was a strong hand. So by an overwhelming majority they chose a war hero.
Undoubtedly, Washington would be interesting, reasoned Douglass. It was the center of the hub, the Capital of all the States. He would also be nearer the great masses of his own people. But Anna Douglass—for the first time in thirty years neither overworked nor burdened with cares—was reluctant to leave Rochester.
Douglass provided for his family, but making money had never been his chief concern. Anna had always stretched dollars. The babies were all little together, so Anna could not go out and work. But while they were little, she often brought work home, sometimes without her husband’s knowledge. During the years when runaway slaves hid in their attic, Anna was always there at any hour of the day or night with food, clean clothing, warm blankets; and it was Anna who kept her husband’s shirts carefully laundered, his bag neatly packed. No one knew better than Douglass how Anna carried the countless, minute burdens of the days and nights. He loved her and depended upon her. But, like Anna Brown, she was the wife of a man who belonged to history. So now, though she would have preferred to relax under the big shade tree he had planted years before, enjoy the cool spaciousness of the home which they had made very comfortable, gossip a bit with her neighbors and relish the many friendly contacts she had made in Rochester, she nodded her head.
“If Washington is the place for you, of course we’ll go.” And she smiled at her husband, who was growing more handsome and more famous every day.
Douglass was in his prime. He cut an imposing figure. He knew it and was glad. For he regarded himself as ambassador of all the freedmen in America. He was always on guard—his speech, his manners, his appearance. Now that he could, he dressed meticulously, stopped off at New York on his way to Washington and ordered several suits, saw to it that he was well supplied with stiff white shirts. He intended that when he walked down Pennsylvania Avenue, across Lafayette Square, or through the Capital grounds, men would ask, “Who is he? What embassy is he from?” Sooner or later they would learn that he was “Frederick Douglass, ex-slave!”
Yes, he was proud. And this same naïve pride almost tripped him.
Since the paper needed him at once, it was decided Douglass would go on ahead, find a house, and later they would move their things and Anna would follow him.