The Portable Nineteenth-Century African American Women Writers Read online

  Has shed its cheering ray,

  Or where the gloom of heathen night

  Excludes the Gospel day—

  Where e’er the poor down-trodden slave

  In weary bondage pines,

  From proud Columbia’s fair domain,

  “To Sibir’s dreary mines”—

  Truth shall prevail, and Freedom’s light

  Shall speed its onward course,

  Impeded by no human might,

  Quelled by no human force.

  Vain, then, the endeavor to suppress,

  In this enlightened land,

  Those tiding which create such joy

  Upon West Indies’ strand

  No sword was drawn, no blood was spilt

  Upon the verdant sod,

  Yet man, enfranchised, stands erect,

  The image of his God

  Then let the joyful news be given

  To every human ear,

  Which e’en the Angels, high in Heaven,

  Might lean to earth to hear.

  27

  ANN PLATO

  (ca. 1820–after 1841)

  Ann Plato was born free in Hartford, Connecticut, the daughter of a farmer and a seamstress. Most of what is known about her was written by her mentor, Rev. James W. C. Pennington, in the introduction to her book, Essays: Including Biographies and Miscellaneous Pieces, in Prose and Poetry, which Plato published at the age of sixteen. Plato was an educator, working at the Free African Schools in Hartford. Her writings stress the importance of education and promote New England Puritan values. Plato’s date of death is unknown.

  Ann Plato’s writings might be characterized by an unshakable sense of belonging to the broader American political project, not a racial project. Her community and her audience is the nation, not fellow African Americans. Her essay “Education” argues that education is the key to national greatness and that any person, through education, is capable of making a mark upon history. Her only published poem, “The Natives of America,” is framed as a lesson taught by a Native father to a daughter, describing the oppression of their ancestors by European colonizers.

  “Education” (1841)

  SOURCE: Ann Plato, Essays: Including Biographies and Miscellaneous Pieces, in Prose and Poetry (Hartford, CT: Printed by the Author, 1841).

  This appears to be the great source from which nations have become civilized, industrious, respectable and happy. A society or people are always considered as advancing, when they are found paying proper respect to education. The observer will find them erecting buildings for the establishment of schools, in various sections of their country, on different systems, where their children may at an early age commence learning, and having their habits fixed for higher attainments. Too much attention, then, can not be given to it by people, nation, society or individual. History tells us that the first settlers of our country soon made themselves conspicuous by establishing a character for the improvement, and diffusing of knowledge among them.

  We hear of their inquiry, how shall our children be educated? and upon what terms or basis shall it be placed? We find their questions soon answered to that important part; and by attending to this in every stage of their advancement, with proper respect, we find them one of the most enlightened and happy nations on the globe.

  It is, therefore, an unspeakable blessing to be born in those parts where wisdom and knowledge flourish; though it must be confessed there are even in these parts several poor, uninstructed persons who are but little above the late inhabitants of this country, who knew no modes of the civilized life, but wandered to and fro, over the parts of the then unknown world.

  We are, some of us, very fond of knowledge, and apt to value ourselves upon any proficiency in the sciences; one science, however, there is, worth more than all the rest, and that is the science of living well—which shall remain “when tongues shall cease,” and “knowledge shall vanish away.”

  It is owing to the preservation of books, that we are led to embrace their contents. Oral instructions can benefit but one age and one set of hearers; but these silent teachers address all ages and all nations. They may sleep for a while and be neglected; but whenever the desire of information springs up in the human breast, there they are with mild wisdom ready to instruct and please us.

  No person can be considered as possessing a good education without religion. A good education is that which prepares us for our future sphere of action and makes us contented with that situation in life in which God, in his infinite mercy, has seen fit to place us, to be perfectly resigned to our lot in life, whatever it may be. Religion has been decreed as the passion of weak persons; but the Bible tells us “to seek first the kingdom of heaven, and His righteousness, and all other things shall be added unto us.” This world is only a place to prepare for another and a better.

  If it were not for education, how would our heathen be taught therefrom? While science and the arts boast so many illustrious names; there is another and more extended sphere of action where illustrious names and individual effort has been exerted with the happiest results, and their authors, by their deeds of charity, have won bright and imperishable crowns in the realms of bliss. Was it the united effort of nations, or of priestly synods that first sent the oracles of eternal truth to the inhospitable shores of Greenland—or placed the lamp of life in the hut of the Esquemaux—or carried a message of love to the burning climes of Africa—or that directed the deluded votaries of idolatry in that benighted land where the Ganges rolls its consecrated waters, to Calvary’s Sacrifice, a sacrifice that sprinkled with blood the throne of justice, rendering it accessible to ruined, degraded man.

  In proportion to the education of a nation, it is rich and powerful. To behold the wealth and power of Great Britain, and compare it with China;

  America with Mexico; how confused are the ideas of the latter, how narrow their conceptions, and are, as it were in an unknown world.

  Education is a system which the bravest men have followed. What said Alexander about this? Said he: “I am more indebted to my tutor, Aristotle, than to my father Philip; for Philip gives me my living, but Aristotle teaches me how to live.” It was Newton that threw aside the dimness of uncertainty which shrouded for so many centuries the science of astronomy; penetrated the arena of nature, and soared in his eagle-flight far, far beyond the wildest dreams of all former ages, defining with certainty the motions of those flaming worlds, and assigning laws to the fartherest star that lies on the confines of creation—that glimmers on the verge of immensity.

  Knowledge is the very foundation of wealth, and of nations. Aristotle held unlimited control over the opinions of men for fifteen centuries, and governed the empire of mind where ever he was known. For knowledge, men brave every danger, they explore the sandy regions of Africa, and diminish the arena of contention and bloodshed. Where ever ignorance holds unlimited sway, the light of science, and the splendor of the gospel of truth is obscure and nearly obliterated by the gloom of monkish superstition, merged in the sable hues of idolatry and popish cruelty; no ray of glory shines on those degraded minds; “darkness covers the earth, and gross darkness the people.”

  Man is the noblest work in the universe of God. His excellence does not consist in the beautiful symmetry of his form, or in the exquisite structure of his complicated physical machinery; capable of intellectual and moral powers. What have been the conquests of men in the field of general science? What scholastic intrenchment is there which man would not have wished to carry—what height is there which he would not have wished to survey—what depth that he would not like to explore?—even the mountains and the earth—hidden minerals—and all that rest on the borders of creation he would like to overpower.

  But shall these splendid conquests be subverted? Egypt, that once shot over the world brilliant rays of genius, is sunk in darkness. The dust of ages slee
ps on the besom of Roman warriors, poets, and orators. The glory of Greece has departed, and leaves no Demosthenes to thunder with his eloquence, or Homer to soar and sing.

  It is certainly true that many dull and unpromising scholars have become the most distinguished men; as Milton, Newton, Walter Scott, Adam Clarke. Newton stated of himself, that his superiority to common minds was not natural, but acquired by mental discipline. Hence, we perceive that the mind is capable of wonderful improvement. The mother of Sir William Jones said to him when a child: “If you wish to understand, read;” how true, that “education forms the mind.”

  How altogether important, then, is education; it is our guide in youth, and it will walk with us in the vale of our declining years. This knowledge we ought ever to pursue with all diligence. Our whole life is but one great school; from the cradle to the grave we are all learners; nor will our education be finished until we die.

  A good education is another name for happiness. Shall we not devote time and toil to learn how to be happy? It is a science which the youngest child may begin, and the wisest man is never weary of. No one should be satisfied with present attainments; we should aim high, and bend all our energies to reach the point aimed at.

  We ought not to fail to combine with our clear convictions of what is right, a firmness and moral courage sufficient to enable us to “forsake every false way,” and our course will be like that of the just—“brighter and brighter unto the perfect day.”

  “The Natives of America” (1841)

  Tell me a story, father please,

  And then I sat upon his knees.

  Then answer’d he,—“what speech make known,

  Or tell the words of native tone,

  Of how my Indian fathers dwelt,

  And, of sore oppression felt;

  And how they mourned a land serene,

  It was an ever mournful theme.”

  Yes, I replied,—I like to hear,

  And bring my father’s spirit near;

  Of every pain they did forego,

  Oh, please to tell me all you know.

  In history often I do read,

  Of pain which none but they did heed.

  He thus began. “We were a happy race,

  When we no tongue but ours did trace,

  We were in ever peace,

  We sold, we did release—

  Our brethren, far remote, and far unknown,

  And spake to them in silent, tender tone.

  We all were then as in one band,

  We join’d and took each others hand;

  Our dress was suited to the clime,

  Our food was such as roam’d that time,

  Our houses were of sticks compos’d;

  No matter,—for they us enclos’d.

  But then discover’d was this land indeed

  By European men; who then had need

  Of this far country. Columbus came afar,

  And thus before we could say Ah!

  What meaneth this?—we fell in cruel hands.

  Though some were kind, yet others then held bands

  Of cruel oppression. Then too, foretold our chief,—

  Beggars you will become—is my belief.

  We sold, then some bought lands,

  We altogether moved in foreign hands.

  Wars ensued. They knew the handling of fire-arms.

  Mothers spoke,—no fear this breast alarms,

  They will not cruelly us oppress,

  Or thus our lands possess.

  Alas! it was a cruel day; we were crush’d:

  Into the dark, dark woods we rush’d

  To seek a refuge.

  My daughter, we are now diminish’d, unknown,

  Unfelt! Alas! no tender tone

  To cheer us when the hunt is done;

  Fathers sleep,—we’re silent every one.

  Oh! silent the horror, and fierce the fight,

  When my brothers were shrouded in night;

  Strangers did us invade—strangers destroy’d

  The fields, which were by us enjoy’d.

  Our country is cultur’d, and looks all sublime,

  Our fathers are sleeping who lived in the time

  That I tell. Oh! could I tell them my grief

  In its flow, that in roaming, we find no relief.

  I love my country; and shall, until death

  Shall cease my breath.

  Now daughter dear I’ve done,

  Seal this upon thy memory; until the morrow’s sun

  Shall sink, to rise no more;

  And if my years should score,

  Remember this, though I tell no more.”

  28

  JULIA COLLINS

  (unknown–1865)

  We know very little for certain about Julia Collins beyond what appears in the Christian Recorder, the A.M.E. Church publication in which Collins published her works. It is known that Julia worked as a teacher in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, in the 1850s. She was married to Stephen Carlisle Collins, a veteran and barber, with whom she may have had two daughters. Her novel, The Curse of Caste; or the Slave Bride, which is excerpted on the following pages, is unfinished because of Collins’s death from consumption in 1865. The Curse of Caste is among the first novels written by African American women.

  The following are five chapters from The Curse of Caste. Throughout them, Collins engages with the tragic predicament of being a child born of a slave and master. Slavery’s wide social reach ruins the Tracy family and prevents Richard Tracy from living a free life even though his marriage to Lina, a slave, is legal in New England. The repercussions of their marriage are felt for several generations and provoke the reader to wonder if their relationship was worth the ideal that it stood for.

  Selections from The Curse of Caste; or The Slave Bride (1865)

  SOURCE: Julia Collins, The Curse of Caste; or the Slave Bride, serialized in Christian Recorder (“Chapter VI,” April 1, 1865; “Chapter VIII,” April 15, 1865; “Chapter X,” April 29, 1865; “Chapter XXVII,” August 26, 1865; “Chapter XXIX,” September 9, 1865).

  CHAPTER VI.

  Richard was warmly greeted by his parents, and the negroes were jubilant over massa’s return. Mrs. Tracy felt proud of the great, tall, noble-looking youth, who stooped to kiss her still blooming cheek. And well might she feel proud, for never was a nobler, better son given to gladden a mother’s heart.

  Col. Tracy took especial pride in introducing his son to all his acquaintances, but was horrified and dismayed to hear Richard give expression to many anti-slavery principles, which he had imbibed while at the north. He tried to reason with him about the absurdity of entertaining such notions as social equality between races so widely divergent, in every respect, as the white and black. But Richard stoutly adhered to his belief that it was wrong for one man to enslave another, and keep in bondage a human being, having a mind and soul susceptible of improvement and cultivation.

  Col. Tracy found too much of his own spirit infused into his son’s character, to think of eradicating these sentiments by argument, but trusted to time, and the influence of Southern principles and society, to effect the desired change. Thus the subject was dropped, and both father and son avoided alluding to it again.

  Richard, while at a party made in honor of his return, formed the acquaintance of a young man, by the name of George Manville. Young Manville was a gay, good-looking fellow, good-natured and perfectly well acquainted with the city and the circle in which Richard moved. They soon became fast friends. Manville was rich and handsome, and much sought after by those who failed in reading his true character, as did Richard Tracy. But Manville was a villain—the beautiful casket enshrined a heart black as the shadows of Hades, and dead to all the finer feelings, those minor chords which render the life of man re
plete with living beauty.

  Richard sometimes felt the subtle influence that this Manville exerted over him without understanding it, however; for candid and honorable himself, he did not readily doubt others. These two men were fated to be connected in a degree, through life.

  One morning, at breakfast, Col. Tracy declared his intention of going up to the plantation for a few days, on business. We will here state that Col. Tracy had moved to the city of New Orleans, the old homestead being occupied by his overseer’s family.

  During his father’s absence, Richard usually spent the mornings with his mother and little Lloyd. He told her of his love for the beautiful Lina, of their betrothal, and her singular presentiment of evil. Mrs. Tracy was interested in the unknown girl, whose cause her son pleaded so eloquently.

  “You would only need see her, to love her,” he said, persuasively.

  Mrs. Tracy did not doubt that Lina was all Richard’s fond imagination painted; but she asked:

  “Do you know any thing of this family of Hartleys? You know your father’s prejudice against persons marrying with those beneath them in rank and fortune, no matter what their qualities may be.”

  “I know, mother,” said the young man, “but should Lina become poor by any untoward circumstance, that is no reason why I should seek to absolve the vows registered in the sight of Heaven. Of Lina’s family I know nothing. I only know she is good and pure. I hope, for my father’s sake, she may be rich, and her family such as he would desire my alliance with. But, my gentle mother, whatever misfortune may befall Lina, I will marry her just the same.”

  “God bless you, my noble son,” said Nellie Tracy, with deep feeling. “I trust all may be well.”

  That same morning Richard’s portrait was sent home. It had been painted by a celebrated artist, who had succeeded admirably in giving the picture a true and life-like expression. Before they had finished hanging the picture, Manville was announced, and with the freedom of a privileged friend, came into the room.