CONTENTS.
| PAGE | |
| Memoir of the Author, | [11] |
| The Black Man and his Antecedents, | [31] |
| —— | |
| THE BLACK MAN, HIS GENIUS AND HIS ACHIEVEMENTS. | |
| Benjamin Banneker, | [51] |
| Nat Turner, | [59] |
| Madison Washington, | [75] |
| Henry Bibb, | [86] |
| Placido, | [88] |
| Jeremiah B. Sanderson, | [91] |
| Toussaint L'Ouverture, | [92] |
| Crispus Attucks, | [106] |
| Dessalines, | [110] |
| Ira Aldridge, | [118] |
| Joseph Cinque, | [124] |
| Alexandre Dumas, | [128] |
| Henri Christophe, | [132] |
| Phillis Wheatley, | [138] |
| Denmark Vesey, | [142] |
| Henry Highland Garnett, | [149] |
| James M. Whitfield, | [152] |
| Andre Rigaud, | [153] |
| Frances Ellen Watkins, | [160] |
| Ex-President Roberts, | [163] |
| Alexander Crummell, | [165] |
| Alexandre Petion, | [169] |
| Martin R. Delany, M. D., | [174] |
| Robert Small, | [175] |
| Frederick Douglass, | [180] |
| Charles L. Reason, | [187] |
| Charlotte L. Forten, | [190] |
| William H. Simpson, | [199] |
| Jean Pierre Boyer, | [202] |
| James M'Cune Smith, M. D., | [205] |
| Bishop Payne, | [207] |
| William Still, | [211] |
| Edwin M. Bannister, | [214] |
| Leonard A. Grimes, | [217] |
| President Geffrard, | [220] |
| George B. Vashon, | [223] |
| Robert Morris, | [227] |
| William J. Wilson, | [230] |
| John Mercer Langston, | [235] |
| William C. Nell, | [238] |
| John Sella Martin, | [241] |
| Charles Lenox Remond, | [246] |
| George T. Downing, | [250] |
| Robert Purvis, | [253] |
| Joseph Jenkins, | [259] |
| John S. Rock, | [266] |
| William Douglass, | [271] |
| Elymas Payson Rogers, | [272] |
| J. Theodore Holly, | [274] |
| James W. C. Pennington, | [276] |
| A Man without a Name, | [278] |
| Samuel R. Ward, | [284] |
| Sir Edward Jordan, | [286] |
| Joseph Carter, | [288] |
| James Lawson, | [291] |
| Capt. Callioux, | [297] |
| Capt. Joseph Howard, | [308] |
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR.
I was born at Lexington, Kentucky. My father, as I was informed, was a member of the Wickliffe family; my mother was of mixed blood; her father, it was said, was the noted Daniel Boone, and her mother a negress. My early life on the plantation was such as generally falls to the lot of the young slave, till I arrived at the age of nine years, when my position was changed. My master's brother lost his wife, she leaving an infant son a few months old, whom my mistress took to bring up. When this boy became old enough to need a playmate to watch over him, mistress called the young slaves together, to select one for the purpose. We were all ordered to run, jump, wrestle, turn somersets, walk on our hands, and go through the various gymnastic exercises that the imagination of our brain could invent, or the strength and activity of our limbs could endure. The selection was to be an important one, both to the mistress and the slave. Whoever should gain the place was in the future to become a house servant; the ask-cake thrown aside, that unmentionable garment that buttons around the neck, which we all wore, and nothing else, was to give way to the whole suit of tow linen. Every one of us joined heartily in the contest, while old mistress sat on the piazza, watching our every movement—some fifteen of us, each dressed in his one garment, sometimes standing on our heads with feet in the air—still the lady looked on. With me it seemed a matter of life and death; for, being blood kin to master, I felt that I had more at stake than my companions. At last the choice was made, and I was told to step aside as the "lucky boy," which order I obeyed with an alacrity seldom surpassed. That night I was put to soak, after which I was scraped, scrubbed, washed, and dried. The next day, the new suit came down to the quarters; I slipped into it; the young slaves gathered about me, and I was the star of the plantation. My mother, one of the best of mothers, placed her hands on my head, and, with tears in her eyes, said, "I knowed you was born for good luck, for a fortune-teller told me so when you was a baby layin' in your little sugar trough. Go up to de great house where you belong." With this blessing I bade farewell to the log hut and the dirt floor, and started towards the "big house." Mistress received me, and laid down the law which was to govern my future actions. "I give your young master over to you," said she; "and if you let him hurt himself, I'll pull your ears; if you let him cry, I'll pull your ears; if he wants any thing, and you don't give it to him, I'll pull your ears; when he goes to sleep, if you let him wake before it is time, I'll pull your ears." And right well did she keep her promise, for my ears felt the impress of her tender fingers and gold rings almost every day, and at times nearly every hour.
Yet I would not have you suppose, gentle reader, that my old mistress was of low or common origin; but on the contrary, she boasted that the best blood of the south coursed through her blue veins. My master, Dr. John Young, was a man of considerable standing in his section of the state. A member of the church, his seat was not often empty during religious service. He was very strict as to the observance of the Sabbath, held prayer night and morning, and entertained more travelling preachers than almost any one in his neighborhood.
The doctor did not surpass his wife in devotedness to religious observances. Of these travelling ministers, each had a favorite, who in turn used to spend several days on the plantation, hunting, shooting, fishing, visiting, and at times preaching. The Rev. Mr. Pinchen was my mistress's favorite, and he was indeed an interesting character. Short and stout, somewhat inclined to corpulency, deeply pockmarked, quick in his motions, and with a strong voice, he was one of the funniest of men when telling his long stories about his religious and other experience in the south.