“It was fine to see at the Congress on Africa the tall form and magnificent head of the grand old man, Frederick Douglass, now seventy-five years of age, perfectly erect, kindly, majestic, the ‘ancient fires of inspiration welling up through all his being yet’; affable to all; finding it still to be as natural to be eloquent as to speak at all; sympathetic to the core with the people of his own race, yet none the less loyal to the common interests of all the people of his country; neither blind to the obstacles in their path and the cruel social injustice and meanness to which they are often exposed, nor, on the other hand, unmindful of the friends they have in the South as also in the North, or above all to the over-shining care and purpose of God Himself, with the ‘far-off divine intent’ that so clearly takes in the future of both the American and African continents. Few Americans have had a more conspicuously providential mission than Frederick Douglass. And hardly anything in this remarkable congress was more eloquent or more convincing than his personal presence.”
Frederick Douglass was born a slave, and his life as a slave was one of peculiar hardship. Of it he himself says in his autobiography:
“I suffered little from any punishment I received, except from hunger and cold. I could get enough neither of food or clothing, but suffered more from cold than hunger. In the heat of summer or the cold of winter alike, I was kept almost in a state of nudity—no shoes, jackets, trousers, or stockings—nothing but a coarse tow linen shirt reaching to the knee. That I wore night and day. In the day time I could protect myself by keeping on the sunny side of the house, and in bad weather in the corner of the kitchen chimney. The great difficulty was to keep warm at night. I had no bed. The pigs in the pen had leaves, and the horses in the stable had straw, but the children had nothing. In very cold weather I sometimes got down the bag in which corn was carried to the mill and got into that. My feet have been so cracked by frost that the pen with which I am writing might have been laid in the gashes.” With regard to his food he said that he often disputed with the dogs over the crumbs that fell from his master’s table.