Joseph Simpson to J.H. Tuke and F. Seebohm, July 6, 1865

Shearman House, Chicago, Il., July 6th, 1865.

MY DEAR FRIENDS,

J.H. TUKE, AND F. SEEBOHM,

In my last letter from Cincinnati, I mentioned that whilst at Camp Nelson, Levi Coffin and I had attended a meeting of freedmen. This meeting was, to me at least, a very interesting one; and, though I cannot hope to make my account of it at all worthy of the occasion, I purpose jotting down a few details, seeing that they may convey a fair idea of what such occasions are in general.

I should state, in the first place, that the meeting had been called together without our knowledge, by John G. Fee, the zealous and earnest missionary who represents, in this camp, the American Missionary Society. This gentleman has, I suppose, done more for the good cause than any man, or any half-dozen men, in Kentucky; and the simple narration of his many hair-breadth escapes from the hands of enraged slaveowners would of itself make a most interesting and exciting book. Mr. Fee is held in the highest esteem by the coloured people in Camp Nelson; and with good reason, for he has been a true friend to them all.

At about 7 P.M., then, we entered the large wooden building in which these poor people take their meals. It is a one-storied erection, 100 feet by 30 feet, lighted only by a few candles, and well-fitted with forms. We did not expect to find more than 100 or 200 people there, at the outside; but instead of this, we could just discern, by the dim light, not less than 600 black and brown faces, all awaiting the arrival of our party.

The men (soldiers chiefly) were seated on one side, and the women on the other. As the forms would not accommodate all, many sat upon the floor, whilst others stood during the three hours, or three and a half hours, the meeting lasted; and better order could not have prevailed, I am sure, in any assembly, white or black.

I shall not soon forget that interesting spectacle, when the whole assembly rose, and joined with true negro harmony in that glorious hymn, “Blow trumpets, blow.” How those large, black, lustrous eyes glistened, and how rich those deep, bass voices sounded in the still night air, is something to remember for a lifetime.

After a short and simple prayer, during which all knelt down, Mr. Fee introduced Levi Coffin to the meeting, as an old friend of the slave, of over thirty years’ standing; an Abolitionist in days when to be so was to be a marked and despised man, both North and South.

Levi Coffin narrated some of his old experiences as a director of the “Underground Railway,” and his more recent experiences in England. When he told of England’s sympathy for the freedmen, and of the money England had sent, and was still sending, to aid in their clothing and education, there went up a cheer which did my heart good. The poor people had not heard of this before; and one or two of them came to me, after the meeting was over, to say, “how glad they were to hear dat day know ‘bout us some t’other side de ‘Lantic.” They seemed to think that it behoved them, in the matter of gratitude to England, to make up for lost time; and I must say, that if a hearty shake of the hand is any test of such feelings, my hand could bear full testimony thereto. As Levi Coffin was suffering from exhaustion (the heat was great), he called upon me to read to the assembly the address from the Bishophill girls to their “colored sisters in America.” This had been previously read at the girls’ school in camp that morning, much to the delight of the sixty or seventy children then present. The address was greatly applauded, especially that part of it which stated, that the English girls were busy making up clothing for the freedmen’s children. The practical force of this seemed to take hold of the minds of all; the more so, when I stated to the meeting, that in school that afternoon I had seen one of the children wearing a dress which I felt almost sure had belonged to a little sister of mine in England. “It was,” I said, “a thin muslin, with a small sprig on it.” Rarely have I witnessed such cheering and laughing as this little incident produced. It seemed to take the fancy of the women entirely, and they literally shrieked with delight.

After saying a few words as to what was being done in England, and the wish felt by all, that now in their freedom they might show that they deserved equal rights with the whites, I was followed by an old coloured man, known as. “Uncle Davie.” His curly hair had become grey with years and care, but energy and humble piety were evident in all that the good man said and did.

I fear it is impossible to give you any idea of the earnestness and ease with which these men spoke. When giving us the account of their life “behind” (i.e., in slavery); of their escape; of the tales told them by their former masters, to deter them from trusting themselves to “Yankee nigger-whippers;” and of the much prized liberty they now enjoyed with “Uncle Sam,” they poured out their whole souls in such a flow of language as perfectly astonished me. “Ah,” said Uncle Davie, “you know, my bredren, how day try to keep us from gittin’ to Camp Nelson. Some o’ you hev only jist got from behind; where Massa ask you, ‘Would you like to be free, Davie?’ O’ course I should; but den, if I say so, hey jist cross my hands, tie ‘em up, strip me; den whip me wid the cowhide, till I tell a lie, and say ‘No.’”

And then Davie went on to counsel them, now that they had got away from bondage, “to earn your own bread by honesty; shew dem dat de col’d people will work, if day are let try; and dat we rader pay for our cahn and clodin’ ourselves, dan ask oder people to pay.” He spoke to them, also, as to being “mighty civil to white folks,” “for day say dat now dat we are free we become too proud.”

When Davie sat down, he was loudly cheered; and so was a fine looking youth, who said he “only jist wished to say how thankful I feel in my heart, for all dis young gen’man say to us; and for all de kindness of de people in England to us coloured people. I thank de Lord very much indeed; I do indeed.” Poor fellow! he seemed quite overcome with his feelings.

A middle-aged serjeant-major was the next speaker. His language and action were even more energetic than others; especially when he told us how his master used to fancy he was flattering him, by calling him “a very smart nigger.”

“Yes, my friends, a very smart nigger. A nigger! where d’you find that word in de Bible? Nowhere! And does not de Bible say that ‘God made of one blood all nations of de earth,’ and that ‘He is no respecter of persons?’ Yes; He says thus, and we must now make ourselves a people. I want us to be a people. See how much better off we are now dan we was four years ago. It used to be five hundred miles to git to Canada from Lexington, but now it’s only eighteen miles! Camp Nelson is now our Canada. Why, four years ago, if dis young gen’man from England had said in Kentuck what he said jist now, day would have hung him up as high as Haman.”

These were a few of the sentences which I took down at the time. But it was the sincere and earnest way in which each speaker encouraged his hearers to purity of life, to industry, honesty, obedience to the laws, respect for those in authority over them, that made the addresses so interesting.

Before the meeting separated, Captain Hall, the Quartermaster and Chief Superintendent, addressed the meeting, lamenting that America had not set her slaves free, as England did; and stating his conviction that in all these great changes God’s omnipotent hand was evident. “Till the North showed herself in earnest in putting down slavery, our arms were never victorious. Look at Bull’s Run! Had we succeeded there, slavery would still have been rampant. Look at our other battles! We were never victorious till we were in earnest in this sacred cause. I know that I speak the truth about these battles; for I was there, and saw for myself.”

The people then collected a subscription among themselves to purchase eatables, wherewith to have a grand celebration of the 4th of July—the first of the kind to them—and soon after ten p.m. they all went quietly to their huts. It would not be right, however, to omit saying that I was charged by many of them (of both sexes) to express their gratitude to the English people for thinking of them, and especially for helping them so liberally, just at this hour of their necessity.

On the whole, though I was much shocked and distressed at the great mortality and physical misery of so many of these poor people at Camp Nelson, I was more than satisfied that the institution of such a camp as this, in the very hart of Kentucky, is of the utmost importance to the cause we have at heart. By its aid, and by reason of the insecurity it causes to the Kentuckian slave-holders, the holding of slaves at all, though still legal in this state, has been a very risky and unpopular business; and it must in time be rendered practically impossible, to any large extent. Even now, every Kentuckian slave becomes free if he crosses the Ohio, gets into Camp Nelson, or is the wife or child of a U.S. soldier. Of the six hundred persons at the meeting referred to, only four were free before the war broke out, and nearly all were from Kentucky.

The commandant of the whole camp, Col. Bierborrow, is a hearty friend of the Freedmen, and does all in his power to improve their position whilst under his care. Col. B. afforded us every facility in visiting the camp; and he gave me his opinion, as a military man, who had spent ten or twelve years in a active service, that for endurance, quickness in acquiring proficiency in drill, cleanliness in camp, and generally for those qualities which go towards making an efficient soldier, he considered “the darker a match of the white man, any day.”

You will be glad to hear that the Western Freedmen’s Aid Commission of Cincinnati have sent down eight teachers to Camp Nelson since we were there; also some clothing. I hope a couple of women suitable to take the place of matrons, will be sent shortly. The stores have been paid or by the W.F.A. Commission.

And now I must close my letter, already, I fear sadly too long. In this, as in former ones, my aim has been rather to furnish you with such facts as most strike the eye of a stranger, than to enter into comprehensive details as to general management, statistics, &c. The latter, as it seemed to me, you could obtain more accurately from printed reports than from any data which I could furnish; whilst a plain statement of the impressions left upon the mind, after being amongst these poor people, might possibly be of interest to those who, life myself, felt themselves to be very ignorant of the whole subject, and desired to acquaint themselves with the facts as they now stand. It has been my desire in these letters to state these facts fairly, and without partiality; and it is to me a great comfort to think that, although much misery exists, and must long exist among these poor people in their transition state, still, thanks to the active benevolence at home and abroad, these miseries are daily being reduced; education is spreading at a splendid pace; the Freedmen are showing themselves worthy of equal rights with the whites, and the white people are gradually coming to the conviction that these rights should be conceded, as much from state policy as from individual justice.

Such was not the case when I first wrote to you; how thankful I am that in this, my last letter, we can truly “thank God” for what is already done, and “take courage” for the future.

Your friend, sincerely,

JOSEPH SIMPSON.