“Yes, Mr. Douglass,” Helen Pitts answered simply. “I’ll be at home.”
The next morning Douglass called on a minister who was also his close friend. He told him that he was going to be married.
“I’d like for you to perform the ceremony.”
The minister was all smiling congratulation. The announcement took him wholly by surprise. He had heard no whisper of romance involving the great Frederick Douglass who, for all his sixty odd years, was a handsome figure of a man. The minister beamed.
“You’re very wise. A man needs a good wife! And who is the fortunate lady?”
He repeated the name, trying to place it. Douglass’ next words brought him to his feet.
“Douglass!” Real alarm sounded in his voice. “You can’t! It’s suicide!”
Douglass smiled quietly. A warm peace filled his heart. He knew that all the years of his living had not been barren. All the time he had been growing into understanding.
“I should be false to all the purposes and principles of my life,” he said, “if I did not marry this noble lady who has done me the honor to consent to be my wife. I am a free man.” He stood up, balancing his cane in his hands. He regarded his distraught friend with something like pity. “I am free even of making appearances just to impress. Would it not be ridiculous if, after having denounced from the housetops all those who discriminate because of the accident of skin color, I myself should practice the same folly?”
They said nothing about their plans to anyone, not even to Douglass’ children, but were married three days later in the minister’s home. Then Douglass drove his bride across the Potomac River and out to Anacostia. Within the next few days every paper in the country carried accounts of this marriage. Most of what they said was untrue. They were almost unanimous in condemnation.