In Kentucky the Colored Baptists are very numerous, and own much valuable property; but Virginia seems to have more Baptists among its great population of Colored people than any other State in the South.

There are a dozen or more in Richmond, including the one presided over by the famous John Jasper. One of them has, it is said, three thousand members(?). But the District of Columbia has more Colored churches for its area and population than any other place in the United States.

There are at least twenty-five Baptist churches in the District, and some of them have interesting histories. The Nineteenth Street Baptist Church is as an intelligent a society of Christian people of color as there is to be found in any city in the country. Its pulpit has always been occupied by the ablest ministers in the country. The Revs.

Sampson White, Samuel W. Madden, and Duke W. Anderson were men of education and marked ability. And there is little doubt but what Duke W. Anderson was the ablest, most distinguished clergyman of color in the United States. And for his work's sake he deserves well of history.

Duke William Anderson was born April 10, 1812, in the vicinity of Lawrenceville, Lawrence County, in the State of Illinois, of a Negro mother by a white father. His father, lately from North Carolina, fell under Gen. Harrison fighting the Indians. Like so many other great men he was born in an obscure place--a wigwam. At the time of his father's death he was quite a young baby. He was now left to the care of a mother who, in many respects, was like her husband, bold and courageous for the truth, and yet as gentle as a child. It is peculiarly trying and difficult for a mother who has all the comforts of modern city life, to train and educate her boys for the duties of life; and if so, how much more trying and difficult must it have been for a mother on the North-western frontiers, seventy years ago, to train her boys?

Dest.i.tute of home and its comforts, without friends or money; no farm, school, or church, Mrs. Anderson began to train her two boys, John Anderson and D. W. Anderson. Of the former, little or nothing is known, save that he was the only brother of D. W. Anderson.

True to the instincts of her motherly heart, Mrs. Anderson was determined to remain upon the spot purchased and consecrated by the blood of her lamented husband. She could not divorce herself from the approximate idea and object of her husband's life and death. He had turned from the comforts of a happy home; had chosen hardships rather than ease that he might realize the dream of his youth, and the object of his manly endeavors--the right of suffrage to all. Her children could not build their play-house of Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, or Southey. All the instruction Duke William obtained came from his mother. She was very large and healthy. Her complexion was of perfect black. She was possessed of excellent judgment, patience, and industry. She stored the young mind of her boy with useful agricultural knowledge, of which she possessed a large amount.

An education does not consist in acquiring lessons, obtaining a simple, abstract, objective knowledge of certain sciences. It is more than this. It consists, also, in being able to apply and use rightly a given amount of knowledge. And though D. W. Anderson was never permitted to enter college, yet, what he got he got thoroughly, and used at the proper time to the best advantage.

Nature was his best teacher. While yet a very young boy he was awed by her splendors, and attracted by the complicated workings of her manifold laws. He began to study the innumerable mysteries which met him in every direction. He heard G.o.d in the rippling water, in the angry tempest, in the sighing wind, and in the troops of stars which G.o.d marshals upon the plains of heaven. In the study of nature he exulted. He sat in her velvet lap, sported by her limpid waters, acquainted himself perfectly with her seasons, and knew the coming and going of every star.

G.o.d was training this man for the great mission which he afterward so faithfully performed. No soul that was ever filled with such grand and humane ideas as was that of Duke William Anderson can be crushed. He knew no boundaries for his soul,--except G.o.d on one side and the whole universe on the other. He was as free in thought and feeling as the air he inhaled, or the birds in the bright sky over his head. His soul had for many years communed with the G.o.d of nature; had been taught by the mighty workings of truth, feeling, and genius within, and by the world without, that he was not to be confined to earth forever, but that beyond the deep blue sky, into which he so much longed to peer, there dwelt the Creator of all things, and there the home of the good!

Like the "wise men of the East,"--knowing no other G.o.d but the G.o.d of nature,--his primitive ideas of religion were naturally based upon nature. In that wild and barren territory nature was impressive, desolate, and awful. The earth, air, and sky incited him to thought and stimulated his imagination. Every appearance, every phenomenon--the storm, the thunder,--speak the prophecies of G.o.d. He was filled with great thoughts and driven by grand ideas.

It is difficult to compute the value of the mother to the child. It is the mother who loves, because she has suffered. And this seems to be the great law of love. Not a triumph in art, literature, or jurisprudence--from the story of Homer to the odes of Horace, from the times of Bacon and Leibnitz to the days of Tyndall and Morse--that has not been obtained by toil and suffering! The mother of Anderson, having suffered so much in her loneliness and want, knew how to train her boy,--the joy of her life. And he in return knew how to appreciate a mother's love. He remembered that to her he owed every thing,--his life, his health, and his early training. He remembered that in childhood she had often, around their little camp-fire, enchanted his youthful mind by the romance of the sufferings and trials of herself and husband. And now finding himself a young man he was determined to change the course of their life.

No work so thoroughly develops the body and mind, and is so conducive to health, as farming; and, perhaps, none so independent. Anderson was naturally healthy and strong, so that farming agreed with him. By this he made a comfortable living, and soon demonstrated to his aged mother that she had not labored in vain, nor spent her strength for naught.

For a number of years he farmed. His motto was "excelsior" in whatever he engaged, and in farming he realized success.

As the father of Duke William Anderson had fallen under the U. S.

flag, it became the duty of the Government to care for his widow and orphans. Accordingly, Duke William was sent to an Illinois school where he received the rudiments of a Western education. A Western education did not consist in reading poetry, or in examining Hebrew roots, but in reading, writing, spelling, arithmetic, geography, and history. There were no soft seats, no beautifully frescoed walls, dotted with costly maps, or studded with beautiful pictures; not a school with a dozen beautiful rooms, heated by hot air. In those days a Western school-house was erected by the side of some public highway, remote from the town. It was constructed of logs,--not of the logs that have lost their roughness by going through the saw-mill, but logs cut by the axe of the hardy frontiersman. The axe was the only tool needed to fit the timber for the building. The building was about twelve feet in height, and about sixteen by twenty. The cracks were often left open, and sometimes closed by chips and mud. The floor was made of split logs with the flat side up. At one end of the building was a fireplace and chimney occupying the whole end of the house. At each end of the fireplace were laid two large stones upon which to rest the ends of the logs of wood, under all of which were laid closely large pieces of flat stones covered with an inch or two of mud. At the other end of the building was a door. It was constructed of thinly split pieces of logs held together by pieces of hickory withes which crossed each end of the door. This door was hung upon wooden hinges, one part of which, instead of being fastened to the door by screws, was fastened by little wooden pegs. The step at the door was a short piece of log flattened a little on the top and braced on the under side by small stones and pieces of chips. The roof was made of long pieces of split timber, the flat side out and the edges smoothed by the axe in order to make them lie snugly.

Such was the school-house in which D. W. Anderson was educated. And it may be that the plain school in which he was educated loaned him that modesty, plainness, and unostentatious air, which were among the many remarkable traits in his character. The circ.u.mstances and society by which boys are surrounded help to mould their character and determine their future. To a healthy and vigorous body was coupled a clear and active mind. He loved knowledge, and was willing to buy it at any price--willing to make any sacrifice. He was an industrious student, and possessed great power of penetration and acquisition. And every thing he read he remembered. The greatest difficulty with students is that they fail to apply themselves. A man may have the ability to accomplish a given amount of work and yet that work can never be accomplished except by the severest effort. It is one thing to possess a negative power, but it is quite another thing to possess a positive power. In this world we are set over against all external laws and forces. We are to a.s.sume the offensive. We are to climb up to the stars by microscopes. We are to measure this earth by our mathematics.

We are to penetrate its depths and lift to the sun its costly treasures. We are to acquaint ourselves with the workings of the manifold laws which lie about us. If we would know ourselves, understand our relation to G.o.d, we must see after the requisite knowledge. Suppose that Duke William Anderson had despaired of ever receiving an education; sat down by the way in life and said: "There is no use of troubling myself, I cannot get what I desire. I am destined to be ignorant and weak all the days of my life; and if there is any good thing for me it will come to me. I will sit here and wait." Would the world ever have known of Anderson? His life would have shed no perfume; his name would have been unknown and his grave would have been forgotten.

But it was that courage which never knows defeat, it was that devotion that never wavers, it was that a.s.siduity, and it was that patience that is certain to triumph, which bore him on to a glorious end, as a summer wind bears up a silver cloud. At the age of seventeen he began to teach school. What Colored man would have essayed to teach school on the frontiers fifty years ago? But D. W. Anderson was born to rule.

He was of commanding presence, full of confidence and earnestness. He entered upon his new duties full of hope and joy. This was something new. There was a great deal of difference between handling the hoe and the pen. He found that there was a great difference between the farm and the school-house. But he was one of those boys who do every thing with all their might, and he was at once at home, and soon became master of his new situation.

Three laborious years were occupied in teaching. And they were years of profit to teacher as well as to pupil. He labored hard to be thorough; and he greatly improved and finished his own education during his teaching.

About this time young Anderson met, courted, and married Miss Ruth Ann Lucas.

Anderson soon made all necessary arrangements, and the nuptial ceremony was solemnized by the village parson on the 30th of September, 1830. With his bride he now settled down at home. For some years he lived the life of a farmer. His mother was riveted to the spot where her devoted husband fell at the hands of a besotted Indian.

But her son was of a progressive spirit. He longed to leave the old home for one more comfortable. How strange that the old should sit by the grave of the past, while the young never weary of chasing some vague fancy!

He bought a tract of land, cleared it, and opened up a farm. He planted a large orchard; became the owner of seven horses and all the implements necessary to farming.

By his own industry and perseverance he had now acquired a neat little home; on his farm he raised enough produce for the consumption of his family, and still there was a large quant.i.ty left for the market.

Apples, potatoes, wheat, corn, and other commodities brought him handsome returns.

On this farm were born five children, four of whom lived to adult age.

The oldest child, Luther Morgan, was born October 10, 1831. The second child, Mary Catharine, was born in 1833. The third, George Washington, was born in 1835. The fourth, Elizabeth, was born in 1837. And the fifth and last child was born on the night of September 4, 1839, when, also, the mother and child died.

This sad event filled a hitherto happy home with gloom, and bowed a strong heart with grief. Anderson was a man possessed of a very tender nature, though he was manly and resolute. His heart was fixed upon his wife, and this sad providence smote him heavily.

During all these years, from his youth up, he had been very profane.

He knew no Sabbath, worshipped no G.o.d, and was himself the highest law. He was filled with a grand religious sentiment, and only needed the grace of G.o.d to bring it out, and the love of G.o.d to show him where he stood.

The object of his youthful affection was gone. The faithful woman who had walked for nineteen years by his side was no more; her eyes were closed to mortal things, and she had ceased to be. He followed her body to the grave, and there dropped a silent tear for her to whom he had given his heart. It was the first funeral of anyone related to him, and its lessons were sharply cut into his heart.

He returned to a desolate home, where the sad faces of motherless children told that one whom they loved, and who had made home happy, was gone.

His mind now turned to religious matters. He began to think of the home beyond, of Jesus, who died for sinners, and wondered if he would ever be able to see the loved one beyond the tide of death. As he dreamed of immortality, longed for heaven, and wondered if Jesus were his Saviour, he was filled with a deep sense of sin. He felt more deeply a sense of sin. He felt more and more that he was unworthy of the Saviour's love; and if he had his just dues, he would be "a.s.signed a portion among the lost."

For a long time he was bowed down under the weight of his sins, and at length he found peace through the blood of Christ. He was renewed. The avaricious man became liberal, the implacable enemy became the forgiving friend, and the man of cursing a man of prayer. But it was impossible for him to cease to grieve; so he thought he would sell the farm and seek another home. The farm was sold, the horses and tools, and every thing converted into money. The children were bound out, and all arrangements were perfected to seek another home.

He paid a visit to Alton, Illinois, where he spent two or three years.

In those days Alton was the city _par excellence_ of Illinois, and toward it flowed the tide of emigration. So favorably was he impressed with Alton, that he was determined to make it his home. Accordingly, he began to make preparations for moving the children. In the meanwhile he formed the acquaintance of a widow lady in Alton with whom he became very much pleased. She was a tall, handsome-looking yellow woman, of cultivated manners, and of pleasing address.

Anderson's wife had been dead three or four years.

It was now August 17, 1842, and the hand and heart of Anderson were offered Mrs. Mary Jane Ragens and accepted. With his new companion he now returned to the scenes of his early days and to the four children who joyfully awaited his return. He had made up his mind to settle in Alton. He and his new companion began to prepare for the journey. The family now consisted of the four children of Anderson and two children of his wife, making a family of six besides the two heads.

During the time that intervened between the death of his first wife and his engagement to the second, he taught school in Vincennes, Indiana, Alton and Brookton, Illinois. The old home stood upon the Wabash River, and was quite upon the line that divided the two States,--Indiana and Illinois. His own children went to his school, and were carried across the river on his back. On the other bank stood the log school-house of which he was princ.i.p.al.

In those, days it was a matter of some comment to see a Colored man who dared write his name or tell his age, but to see one who was actually a schoolmaster was the marvel of the times. His teaching was a matter of comment in Vincennes, but Vincennes was only a little country town. But to go to Alton,--that city of great fame, then,--and teach school, was an undertaking that required strong nerves. D. W.

Anderson had them. He never allowed himself to think that he was any person other than a man and citizen clothed with all civil rights and armed with G.o.d-given prerogatives. And so commanding was he, that a man who stood in his presence instantly felt him a superior. Moreover, the heated feeling and public sentiment which, on the night of November 7, 1837, wrested from the hand of G.o.d,--to whom alone vengeance belongeth,--a life, were not yet abated. Lovejoy, a peaceable citizen, had been deprived of free speech and struck down by the knife of the a.s.sa.s.sin; and could it be expected that a Negro would be spared? The times were exciting and dangerous, and yet Anderson was determined to take his place and work on in the path of duty, never wincing, but leaving the results with G.o.d.

Before in his quiet home and farm life, nature was his peculiar study.

He had studied man in studying himself, but in the city of Alton he could study men. He loved to walk through its long streets, watch its hurrying pedestrians, and learn the manifold manifestations of city life.

Having been converted just after the death of his first wife, but never having connected himself with any church, he now joined the A.

M. E. Church of Alton. His views from the first were Baptistic, but circ.u.mstances placed him among the Methodists. The elder in charge was the powerful preacher, the successful revivalist, and the eminently pious man, Rev. Shadrack Stewart. Some misunderstanding arose between the minister in charge and some of the members, which resulted in the withdrawal of the pastor, Rev. S. Stewart, Anderson and family, and quite a number of the leading members. Minister and all connected themselves with the Baptists. Anderson used often to say to his family: "_That move placed me at home_." He was indeed at home, and stayed there until he was called to his heavenly rest! He loved very much to study the Bible, and to meditate upon its great truths. The more he studied it the clearer duty seemed and the deeper and purer his love grew for that beneficent Being whom he owned as Lord and King.

It was now 1843. He felt that it was his duty to enter the Gospel ministry. Naturally a modest man, he shrank somewhat from this voice of G.o.d; but finally, in 1844, submitted to ordination. He was ordained by the Rev. John Anderson, father of the late Richard Anderson, of St.

Louis, or by the Rev. John Livingston, of Illinois, though it is a matter of some doubt as to who was present at his ordination.

He now moved to Upper Alton, and pitched his tent under the shadow of Shurtleff College. His aim was always to excel. He had absorbed every thing that had come within his reach, and now he had placed himself where he could rub against "_College men_."

Some men have to study a great deal to get a very little; they lack the power of mental absorption, and, consequently, have to wade far out into the river of knowledge in order to feel the benefits of the invigorating waters. Not so with Anderson; he was an indefatigable student. He was always willing to be taught by any person who was able to impart knowledge. Every new word that saluted his ear was forced into his service; never mechanically, but always in its proper place.

If he learned a word to-day, to-morrow he would use it in its grammatical relation to a sentence. He had no time for vacation; no mental cessation, but it was one unceasing struggle for knowledge. And no doubt his approximate relation to Shurtleff College helped to impart a certain healthy tone and solidity to his style as a writer and preacher which were ever strikingly manifest.

In a short time he moved out from Alton about twelve miles to the town of Woodburn, Madison County, where he remained for a year, during which time he taught school and preached occasionally. In 1845 he bought an eighty-acre farm on Wood River, about five miles from Alton.

He moved his family on the farm, and began to make improvements. After the farm had been put in good working condition, it was not hard for Luther, the eldest child, to manage it. It might seem strange to the boys of to-day, who are dwarfed by cities and cramped by a false civilization, to know that Luther, a boy of fourteen, could follow the plow and swing the cradle. But, nevertheless, his father could trust most of the work of the farm to these young hands.

Duke William Anderson was a civilizer and a reformer. Wherever he placed his foot there were thrift and improvement. He never was satisfied with himself, or that which he did. He always felt when he had done a thing that he could have done it _better_. He never preached a sermon but what he felt that he ought to preach the next one _better_. In his great brain were the insatiable powers of civilization. He was prompt, rapid, decisive, and sagacious, working up to his ideal standard. It was not his object to simply improve and help himself; he was far from such selfishness. The basis of his reformatory and benevolent operations was as broad as humanity and as solid as granite. He never entered a community without the deep feeling that it should be made better, and never lived in one except his warm heart and willing hand went forth to minister to and sympathize with all who were in need.

He felt keenly the bitter prejudice which pervaded the community from which he had just moved, and was sensible of the weakness of the few free Colored citizens who lived in that portion of the State. Wood River was a healthy place to live; and the land was cheap and rich. He was not shut up to any selfish motives, but was planning for the good of his people. He knew that "in union there is strength," and if he could get a number of families to move on Wood River he could form a settlement, and thus bring the people together in religion and politics, in feeling and sentiment.

This plan was no idle dream. In due time he gave notice, and offered inducements, to the people to come. And they came from every section; and in a few years it had grown to be a large and prosperous settlement.

Duke William Anderson was the central figure in this community. His colossal form, his clear mind, and excellent judgment, placed him at the head of educational and religious matters. He was parson, schoolmaster, and justice. All questions of theology were submitted to his judgment, from which there was no appeal. All social and political feuds were placed before him, and his advice would heal the severest schisms and restore the most perfect harmony.

He now threw his great soul into the work of organization. He was filled with a grand idea. He felt that the purity and intelligence of the community depended upon their knowledge of the Bible and the preaching of the Gospel. It was a grand idea, though he had to work upon a small scale. It was this idea that made the Israelites victorious; and Anderson was determined to impress upon this community this primal truth. He knew that in knowledge only is there safety, and in science alone can certainty be found. Before this idea every thing must bow, and around it were to cl.u.s.ter, not only the hopes of that little community, but the prayers of four million bondmen. He was confident that in G.o.d he would triumph, and in Him was his trust.