“Frederick Douglass.”
The perpetrators of the wanton and gratuitous insult which elicited this beautiful rebuke, would be sadly outraged were we to insist on withholding the title of “gentlemen” from those who could, on any pretence, trample on the feelings of such as they esteem their inferiors. If they half begin to comprehend the meaning of the term, much more to feel its power, their cheeks must have crimsoned with shame, when they saw their own unprovoked assault, contrasted with, the calm and self-respectful serenity of this reply.
Another instance of this dignity under circumstances of peculiar trial, may be found in his own account—in the columns of “Frederick Douglass’ Paper”—of a rencontre with a hotel clerk in Cleveland. It is as follows:—
“At the ringing of the morning bell for breakfast, I made my way to the table, supposing myself included in the call; but I was scarcely seated, when there stepped up to me a young man, apparently much agitated, saying: ‘Sir, you must leave this table.’ ‘And why,’ said I, ‘must I leave this table?’ ‘I want no controversy with you. You must leave this table.’ I replied, ‘that I had regularly enrolled myself as a boarder in that house; I expected to pay the same charges imposed upon others; and I came to the table in obedience to the call of the bell; and if I left the table I must know the reason.’ ‘We will serve you in your room. It is against our rules.’ ‘You should have informed me of your rules earlier. Where are your rules? Let me see them.’ ‘I don’t want any altercation with you. You must leave this table.’ ‘But have I not deported myself as a gentleman? What have I done? Is there any gentleman who objects to my being seated here?’ (There was silence round the table.) ‘Come, sir, come, sir, you must leave this table at once.’ ‘Well, sir, I cannot leave it unless you will give me a better reason than you have done for my removal.’ ‘Well, I’ll give you a reason if you’ll leave the table and go to another room.’ ‘That, sir, I will not do. You have invidiously selected me out of all this company, to be dragged from this table, and have thereby reflected upon me as a man and a gentleman; and the reason for this treatment shall be as public as the insult you have offered.’ At these remarks, my carrot-headed assailant left me, as he said, to get help to remove me from the table. Meanwhile I called upon one of the servants (who appeared to wait upon me with alacrity), to help me to a cup of coffee, and assisting myself to some of the good things before me, I quietly and thankfully partook of my morning meal without further annoyance.”
Whatever may have been the duty of Mr. Douglass, (and none who know him can for a moment doubt what his inclination would have been,) in case the proscriptive “rules of the house” had been previously made known to him, the justice, as well as the gentlemanly self-possession of his bearing, in relation to this public outrage, must, I think, be sufficiently obvious.
THE HEROIC SLAVE-WOMAN.
It was my privilege to see much of Edward S. Abdy, Esq., of England, during his visit to our country, in 1833 and 1834. The first time I met him was at the house of Mr. James Forten, of Philadelphia, in company with two other English gentlemen, who had come to the United States, commissioned by the British Parliament to examine our systems of prison and penitentiary discipline. Mr. Abdy was interested in whatsoever affected the welfare of man. But he was more particularly devoted to the investigation of slavery. He travelled extensively in our Southern States, and contemplated with his own eyes the manifold abominations of our American despotism. He was too much exasperated by our tyranny to be enamoured of our democratic institutions; and on his return to England, he published two very sensible volumes, that were so little complimentary to our nation, that our booksellers thought it not worth their while to republish them.
This warm-hearted philanthropist visited me several times at my home in Connecticut. The last afternoon that he was there, we were sitting together at my study window, when our attention was arrested by a very handsome carriage driving up to the hotel opposite my house. A gentleman and lady occupied the back seat; and on the front were two children, tended by a black woman, who wore the turban that was then, more than now, usually worn by slave women.