By Paul Carrier
Popular accounts of the struggle to end slavery in America typically highlight the work of white politicians and activists, notably President Abraham Lincoln, U.S. Rep. Thaddeus Stevens, and other radical Republicans in Congress. John Brown, William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips, and Harriet Beecher Stowe also come to mind.
Frederick Douglass, an escaped slave who became known for his stellar writing and oratorical skills, is mentioned as well, of course, but often as someone who seemed to labor in the shadow of more notable and important reformers.
Historian David W. Blight moves Douglass to center stage, where he belonged on along, in Frederick Douglass: Prophet of Freedom, a meticulous biography which won this year’s Pulitzer Prize for history. Before, during and after the Civil War, Douglass was an eloquent and mesmerizing champion of racial and gender equality who had the star power to make himself widely heard by using “his only real weapons,” his pen and his voice.
Douglass was “the most photographed American of the nineteenth century,” Blight writes, and he may have been, with Mark Twain, “the most widely traveled American public figure of his century.” By the 1890s Douglass had few rivals in the “golden age” of oratory. In fact, more Americans probably heard him speak than any other public figure of his era. Complex and brilliant, he was radical and independent-minded, yet he routinely used biblical references to buttress his arguments.
Born Frederick Bailey in Talbot County, Md., the son of an enslaved mother and, in all probability, a white father, Douglass witnessed or learned about “at least seven brutal whippings or murders” by the time he was eight years old, Blight writes. He suffered cruelty and brutality firsthand as he grew older, first as a slave and later as a public speaker who became all too familiar with mob violence.
Douglass learned the alphabet as a boy from the sister-in-law of his owner at the time. Without access to a proper education, he essentially taught himself to read and write. Douglass escaped to New York in 1838, where he married Anna Murray, a free black woman from Baltimore, before the couple moved on to New Bedford and Lynn, in Massachusetts; Rochester, N.Y.; and Washington, D.C.
As a young man, Douglass came to see slavery not only as brutal and morally indefensible, but also as a haven for hypocritical slave owners and clergymen who portrayed themselves as devout Christians doing God’s work by exposing Africans and their American-born descendants to a hideously perverted conception of Christianity.
As soon as the charismatic Douglass joined the anti-slavery lecture circuit in the early 1840s he captivated (and antagonized) audiences through a combination of his electrifying stage presence and remarkable fluency as a speaker. He provided a unique perspective unavailable to any white abolitionist, that of a fugitive who had personally experienced the horrors of slavery.
Far from being a secondary figure in the struggle for abolition, Douglass was one of the major public speakers affiliated with Garrison’s American Anti-Slavery Society, which found itself at odds with competing abolitionists who adopted different tactics and philosophies. Douglass initially held firm to Garrison’s principles, at least publicly, but over time his independent spirit, ambition, and linguistic skill propelled him to chart his own course.
Douglass traveled to Great Britain and Ireland during the 1840s, lecturing to massive crowds and boosting his status as a celebrated speaker. While there, supporters purchased his freedom from his owner in Maryland. Returning to America, he moved his family from Massachusetts to Rochester, N.Y., where he founded and published an abolitionist newspaper and eventually found himself at odds with Garrison and his supporters, triggering a bitter feud between the warring abolitionist camps.
The author of three autobiographies, Douglass was as skilled with a pen as he was on the stump. He wrote a novella in 1853 that fictionalized a successful 1841 revolt aboard the slave-trading ship Creole. Blight writes that this was “a logical progression” for this man of letters, who already had tackled oratory, autobiography and journalism.
By the time the Civil War broke out, Douglass longed to see the complete annihilation of the Southern way of life, arguing that even Southern whites who did not own slaves were tools of the Confederacy’s amoral gentry. He insisted from the outset that the primary goal of the war should be emancipation, although he also supported the preservation of the Union. Blight puts his subject's sarcasm and barbed wit on full display. Following South Carolina’s secession, for example, Douglass mused that the Palmetto State preferred to be “a large piece of nothing,” rather than “a small piece of something.”
Over his long life, Douglass championed the recruitment of African-American soldiers, full citizenship for blacks and continued federal intervention to protect the lives and voting rights of African Americans in the South after the war. He vigorously condemned the Democratic Party as racist and argued that white supremacy remained the guiding principle of the post-war South. During the Gilded Age, Blight notes, Douglass seemed to view white supremacy as a “soul-killing hydra worse than slavery itself.”
At more than 750 pages, Frederick Douglass probes Douglass’ psyche; evolution as a thinker, orator and writer; political growth; and the many relationships, professional and personal, that helped shape his long and eventful life.
Douglass’ home life was a tangle. He probably had a long-term romantic relationship with a German woman living in the United States while Douglass was still married to his first wife, Anna, a freeborn woman from Maryland. As adults, his sons had a hard time supporting their families, and often were at odds with their sister Rosetta and her husband. Following Anna’s death, Douglass married Helen Pitts, a well-educated white activist almost 20 years his junior, without giving advance notice to friends or family.
His prominence notwithstanding, Douglass had his flaws, and not just in terms of marital fidelity. He could be naive and unrealistic, sometimes failing to fully understand the nuances of politics and warfare. Ironically, this impassioned foe of bigotry described Irish immigrants, Native Americans and Catholics in derogatory terms. When Douglass served as the recorder of deeds in Washington for a time after the war, nepotism was so rampant in his office that it became what Blight calls “a Douglass-family cash cow.”
Still, there is no denying Douglass’ standing as a deservedly beloved figure and a true hero of American history. Frederick Douglass is an exhaustive, compelling biography that transforms its subject from a marble icon into a majestically inspiring human being, capturing his inexhaustible passion, powerful intellect and innate dignity. As Abraham Lincoln told Douglass during a White House reception following Lincoln’s second inauguration: “There is no man in the country whose opinion I value more than yours.”
Frederick Douglass, an escaped slave who became known for his stellar writing and oratorical skills, is mentioned as well, of course, but often as someone who seemed to labor in the shadow of more notable and important reformers.
Historian David W. Blight moves Douglass to center stage, where he belonged on along, in Frederick Douglass: Prophet of Freedom, a meticulous biography which won this year’s Pulitzer Prize for history. Before, during and after the Civil War, Douglass was an eloquent and mesmerizing champion of racial and gender equality who had the star power to make himself widely heard by using “his only real weapons,” his pen and his voice.
Douglass was “the most photographed American of the nineteenth century,” Blight writes, and he may have been, with Mark Twain, “the most widely traveled American public figure of his century.” By the 1890s Douglass had few rivals in the “golden age” of oratory. In fact, more Americans probably heard him speak than any other public figure of his era. Complex and brilliant, he was radical and independent-minded, yet he routinely used biblical references to buttress his arguments.
Born Frederick Bailey in Talbot County, Md., the son of an enslaved mother and, in all probability, a white father, Douglass witnessed or learned about “at least seven brutal whippings or murders” by the time he was eight years old, Blight writes. He suffered cruelty and brutality firsthand as he grew older, first as a slave and later as a public speaker who became all too familiar with mob violence.
Douglass learned the alphabet as a boy from the sister-in-law of his owner at the time. Without access to a proper education, he essentially taught himself to read and write. Douglass escaped to New York in 1838, where he married Anna Murray, a free black woman from Baltimore, before the couple moved on to New Bedford and Lynn, in Massachusetts; Rochester, N.Y.; and Washington, D.C.
As a young man, Douglass came to see slavery not only as brutal and morally indefensible, but also as a haven for hypocritical slave owners and clergymen who portrayed themselves as devout Christians doing God’s work by exposing Africans and their American-born descendants to a hideously perverted conception of Christianity.
As soon as the charismatic Douglass joined the anti-slavery lecture circuit in the early 1840s he captivated (and antagonized) audiences through a combination of his electrifying stage presence and remarkable fluency as a speaker. He provided a unique perspective unavailable to any white abolitionist, that of a fugitive who had personally experienced the horrors of slavery.
Far from being a secondary figure in the struggle for abolition, Douglass was one of the major public speakers affiliated with Garrison’s American Anti-Slavery Society, which found itself at odds with competing abolitionists who adopted different tactics and philosophies. Douglass initially held firm to Garrison’s principles, at least publicly, but over time his independent spirit, ambition, and linguistic skill propelled him to chart his own course.
Douglass traveled to Great Britain and Ireland during the 1840s, lecturing to massive crowds and boosting his status as a celebrated speaker. While there, supporters purchased his freedom from his owner in Maryland. Returning to America, he moved his family from Massachusetts to Rochester, N.Y., where he founded and published an abolitionist newspaper and eventually found himself at odds with Garrison and his supporters, triggering a bitter feud between the warring abolitionist camps.
The author of three autobiographies, Douglass was as skilled with a pen as he was on the stump. He wrote a novella in 1853 that fictionalized a successful 1841 revolt aboard the slave-trading ship Creole. Blight writes that this was “a logical progression” for this man of letters, who already had tackled oratory, autobiography and journalism.
By the time the Civil War broke out, Douglass longed to see the complete annihilation of the Southern way of life, arguing that even Southern whites who did not own slaves were tools of the Confederacy’s amoral gentry. He insisted from the outset that the primary goal of the war should be emancipation, although he also supported the preservation of the Union. Blight puts his subject's sarcasm and barbed wit on full display. Following South Carolina’s secession, for example, Douglass mused that the Palmetto State preferred to be “a large piece of nothing,” rather than “a small piece of something.”
Over his long life, Douglass championed the recruitment of African-American soldiers, full citizenship for blacks and continued federal intervention to protect the lives and voting rights of African Americans in the South after the war. He vigorously condemned the Democratic Party as racist and argued that white supremacy remained the guiding principle of the post-war South. During the Gilded Age, Blight notes, Douglass seemed to view white supremacy as a “soul-killing hydra worse than slavery itself.”
At more than 750 pages, Frederick Douglass probes Douglass’ psyche; evolution as a thinker, orator and writer; political growth; and the many relationships, professional and personal, that helped shape his long and eventful life.
Douglass’ home life was a tangle. He probably had a long-term romantic relationship with a German woman living in the United States while Douglass was still married to his first wife, Anna, a freeborn woman from Maryland. As adults, his sons had a hard time supporting their families, and often were at odds with their sister Rosetta and her husband. Following Anna’s death, Douglass married Helen Pitts, a well-educated white activist almost 20 years his junior, without giving advance notice to friends or family.
His prominence notwithstanding, Douglass had his flaws, and not just in terms of marital fidelity. He could be naive and unrealistic, sometimes failing to fully understand the nuances of politics and warfare. Ironically, this impassioned foe of bigotry described Irish immigrants, Native Americans and Catholics in derogatory terms. When Douglass served as the recorder of deeds in Washington for a time after the war, nepotism was so rampant in his office that it became what Blight calls “a Douglass-family cash cow.”
Still, there is no denying Douglass’ standing as a deservedly beloved figure and a true hero of American history. Frederick Douglass is an exhaustive, compelling biography that transforms its subject from a marble icon into a majestically inspiring human being, capturing his inexhaustible passion, powerful intellect and innate dignity. As Abraham Lincoln told Douglass during a White House reception following Lincoln’s second inauguration: “There is no man in the country whose opinion I value more than yours.”
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