"Prof. Charley" by the black population of New Orleans, a colored minister proposed the following toast : *' Here's to General Butler, God bless him ! Though he has a white skin he has a black heart." A similar sentiment, with an interchange of two words, I harbor con- cerning the subject of the following sketch, " Professor" Charley Thompson. For me to introduce this man to Am- herst alumni would be like Ascanius intro- ducing Hector to a Trojan audience. There is not an Amherst man, from the time of William Augustus down to the reign of Georgius Primus, who does not think with pleasure of the smiling face and shuffling gait that characterized Charley while act- ing the part of Aquarius in the Amherst zodiac constellations. But recent events [ 3 1 Introduction in Charley's life may have escaped the notice of some of the alumni. His wife, Eliza, died a year ago. His mortgage- burdened farm had to be sold. At his present age of eighty-two, he is unable to earn his daily bread. In the last years of the illness of his insane wife, his tender devotion to the girl he had promised "to love and cherish" was beautiful and im- pressive. " I promised Dr. Stearns I would allers take good care of Eliza, and I allers will" was his invariable reply when urged to have his wife taken to an asylum. When, finally, she died, he thought his last and best friend had been taken from him. " Dr. Stearns is dead. Dr. Tyler is dead, and now Eliza is dead, and nobody cares for me now." To demonstrate the incorrectness of the concluding statement, and to help provide for his future comfort, the following sketch has been written. Joseph O. Thompson. [ 4 ] Professor Charley." Oct. 31st, if "PROF. CHARLEY" HAUNTING the College grounds, and wandering from one building to another, may often be seen the forlorn figure of an old colored man. He is very deaf, his teeth are worn out, and his eye- sight is failing. But if addressed, he draws himself up with a certain proud dignity and an air of ownership that marks him as one having some connection with the College, deeper than at first sight appears. Indeed, many of the older graduates can recall him as he looked some twenty or thirty years ago, coming from the old Col- lege well, with his two pails of water, a welcome visitant to the then comfortless rooms of North and South College. So many years has he toiled up and down the College hill, shovelled the walks, "tended the b'iler," swept the halls and made the fires, that he has come to feel himself a part of the machinery of the [ 5 ] ''Prof. Charley'' College, and with some claim, in his de- clining years, on his Alma Mater. He cannot realize that younger hands can do the work better, that dim eyes can- not see so well, that deaf ears cannot hear instructions, that he is too old to carry heavy burdens. His hands are as willing, and his spirit as loyal as in the old days. Indeed, Amherst College stands to him now for home, for wife, and friend. And so it is to Charley's "boys" that the following sketch is written, by one who has always known and loved him, with the hope that for his faithful work in the past he may, with their help, be kept in his old age from the Almshouse. Charles Thompson was born in Portland, Maine. It was in December, 1838, when he was about fifteen years old, that he came to live with my father. It was at the height of the abolition excitement. My father had given some offense by refus- ing to countenance the extreme measures that were generally desired. Nevertheless, [ 6 ] Prof. Charley'''' when the leading abolitionists were unwill- ing to help the boy, he took him in and made him one of his family. To quote his own words : "I said: 'send the colored boy to me, and we will see what next.' In about half an hour Charley came in. His clothing was scant and in a very dilapidated condi- tion. We looked him over, talked with, liked him, and concluded to keep him. Mrs. Stearns went immediately to work to fit him up with comfortable and decent clothing. Before night he had come into quite a presentable condition." Charley came into our family long be- fore I was born. He was my nurse and playfellow from my earliest days. It was probably his tender, watchful care that saved my life, when, after a fearful attack of croup, the physician had said, " she can- not live till morning." Holding me, help- less and almost lifeless, in his strong black arms, he declared that " the baby was starving" and insisted upon feeding me [ 7 ] ''Prof. Charley'' with rennet-whey, while tears rolled down his cheeks when I took it greedily, and from that moment began to revive. One of my earliest recollections is of sitting on his knee in the kitchen, fondling his black, horny hand, or patting his face ; and I can recall him in his long checked blue apron, blacking the boots, or rubbing down the horse. But it was Charley's musical ability that made us love him as a companion in the evening, for Charley owned a fiddle, and when he played "Money- Musk" or some lively jig, the children could not help dancing. "Just keep your fingers goin' and bumby you'll get it," was his advice to my brother, who tried to play. When asked how he learned to play, he answered, " My father was a great fiddler." There were many efforts made to teach him to read, but it will be remembered that Charley was already fifteen years old, and he was not an apt scholar. My sister would sit by him with a spelling-book, but he never went far beyond the Alphabet. "Now," [ 8 ] " Prof. Charley " she would say, " how do you spell Charles ? " " Charles," running the letters together in an incomprehensible way. " Yes, that is right, now, what does C-h-a-r-1-e-s spell ? " " Boston ? " Is it strange that the reading lessons were abandoned for the more in- teresting and better appreciated violin ? Everywhere the children went, there went Charley. He was devoted to them ; they loved him and shared with him all their pleasures. He was always truthful and trustworthy, and to the best recollec- tion of the family, no oath or unclean word ever passed his lips. So the eager request, " may we play with Charley .-' " was always cheerfully granted. {Note. For the following anecdote , and many others given in this sketchy I am in- debted to m.y sister, Eliza C. Stearns^ Once a famous menagerie came to Boston. My father promised to take my older sister, my two brothers, and Charley to see the show. When my father presented his little [ 9 ] ''Prof. Charley'' company for the tickets, the gate-keeper re- fused to let in Charley, "We never let niggers in," said he. There was a howl from the three small children, while each child declared, "then I won't go." "You hear what these children say," said my father, turning to go away. Whereupon the gate-keeper, seeing it was really a los- ing game on his part, decided to let the whole party pass in. This incident is mentioned as showing the feeling towards the negro at that time, even in the good city of Boston. To quote once more from my father's manuscript. "He remained in my employ as chore- boy until he became of age. As he was now a legal voter, and an exciting presiden- tial election was at hand, I said : * Charley, you are now a free voter, and can vote for whom you please. I shall vote so-and-so, and for such-and-such reasons.' At the town-meeting he was surrounded by those who insisted that he should vote for his own [ 10 ] ''Prof. Charley'' color, as they called it, which meant, I be- lieve, that he should vote for Martin Van Buren. He was urged so hard that a con- siderable excitement followed. Some of them said, 'Mr. Stearns hates the colored people, and you are nothing but his slave.* * I bore it,' said Charley, ' until they be- gan to talk agin Mr. Stearns, and then I was so 'cited, that I was a good mind to knock 'em down. I told 'em, I know who my friends are. I know who took me in, and took care of me when I hadn't any home, and I know your talk, and who turned me away from their doors, and I shall vote as I please.'" As Charley grew to manhood, he became useful not only to my father, but to the town of Cambridge. In time he became a Cambridge fireman, and while he helped put out the fires, he was sometimes out at night when there was no fire. To my brothers, just growing up, these midnight adventures were told, and made most fascinating. To me, Charley's fire- [II ] ''Prof. Charley'' man's hat, his watchman's rattle, and his big bass drum were more innocent, but quite as entertaining. Some time after this it was decided to send Charley to sea. My father must have felt that his companions were not altogether desirable ones, and that my brothers would now be better with friends of their own age and station. My father says : " I obtained a place for him under care of a friend of ours, Captain Charles Evans, captain of a whaling vessel from New Bed- ford. With him, Charley went round the world on a three years' voyage. He was very faithful, and the captain soon made him steward and special attendant on him- self." My first sorrow must have been when he went away, for I was found, a child two years old, in his bare, empty room, " trying to smell Tartar" (Charley). " Be a good boy, Willie," he said to my oldest brother at parting, " be a good boy, or I sha'n't never want to come back." [ 12 ] ''Prof. Charley'' I well remember the joy of his home- coming, and shall never forget how he led me "down the street" to " Hyde's," where he gave me a bright fourpence to spend for some beautiful pink calico for my doll. Wonderful stories of the sea he told us, to which we children listened with breath- less attention, " One day he went up where the sun did not set. They kept waiting for the sun to go down, and it wouldn't go down. The longest day he ever knew, and he thought he should starve before supper-time." " It was terrible," he said, " going out after the whales. The whale would get mad and come towards the vessel with his mouth open — his mouth and throat so big you could drive one of the Cambridge omnibuses into it, turn round and come out again." Besides the stories, there were the treas- ures in his old sea chest, the delight of our hearts. Among them I remember an old horn crown, once the pride and adornment [ 13 ] ''Prof. Charley'' of the head of a " Kanaka " ; a polished ivory tooth ; some wooden beads ; and other trophies from foreign lands. Charley went with Captain Evans on three voyages. The second and third voy- ages were in a merchant vessel. But after this third voyage, Charley went no more to sea. On this voyage out, the crew mutinied ; and some were placed in irons before com- ing to terms. ** Charley was the only one faithful through it all," the captain wrote home. On the voyage from Hong Kong to Honolulu the captain died. Charley stood by him day and night, and with his hand clasped in the black one, that Christian seaman breathed his last. That same black hand wrapped him in his shroud, and he was buried in the sea. With loving thought- fulness Charley cut a lock from his hair, took care of his watch and other belongings, bringing all home to the captain's wife. When he reached England he was so [ 14 ] ''Prof. Charley'' overcome with grief that he determined not to go home. He could not bear to meet the poor afflicted wife, and but for those to whom the ship was consigned, he would never have come back. " Steward," Mrs. Evans always called him, and she would say the word with in- describable affection. After this last voyage Charley lived as coachman with an old friend of my father's in Cambridge, remaining there for several years, untU 1856 or 1857, when he came to Amherst to live once more with his beloved "Mr. Stearns." And from that time until my father died, he served him and the College, as only those serve who work for love. It was about the year 1859 when a pretty mulatto girl came to live with Mrs. Adams, the widow of the late Professor Adams. Seeing her pass the house one day, my brother Frazar said to Charley, "There goes a pretty girl, catch her Thompson." From that time until he stood by her [ 15 ] ''Prof. Charley'' cold body, Charley's love for the "pretty girl " never faltered. My brother was his friend and confidant in this affair, wrote his love-letters for him, gave him fresh heart when he hesitated, lest he should not be able to win her. The young woman was an earnest Metho- dist, and Charley would wait on her "to meetin'." After a long winter of wooing, he announced joyously one morning, " Oh, I feel so 'ligious to-day." They were married at Mrs. Adams' house by my father, one of his little daughters acting as bridesmaid, and a son of Mrs. Adams as best man, while the bride made the wedding-cake and Mrs. Adams provided the wedding-feast. It was then and there that Charley gave the promise so faithfully kept, " In sickness and in health, in prosperity and trouble . . . until death us do part." Soon after his marriage, the College built for him the little house that stands at the foot of the president's orchard. And here, [ i6 ] ''Prof. Charley'' as sub-janitor of the College, Charley lived close beside his best friend and benefactor. The students were always his "boys." Many times on his late round of duty at night would he find and help to his room and bed, some poor "boy" who was best off there; but nothing of this ever came before the faculty. To many another poor fellow, struggling to help himself through College, "boarding himself," would come unexpected and much needed relief. Charley, with wonderful tact, always knew when it was best to mention a name and when to say nothing. He was as faithful to the students as to my father. In the old days, when wood stoves, with their long pipes reaching around under the galleries, were all that there was to heat the barn-like chapel, Charley was up long before daylight to make his fires, and have the building comfortable for "Mr. Stearns " for the early morning prayers. Many a time at two o'clock, and again at four o'clock in the cold winter mornings, the [ 17 ] ''Prof. Charley'' gleam of his lantern told us that the faith- ful fellow was looking after his stoves. Later, on his way home, Charley nearly always stopped for a few moments in our kitchen. Rubbing his hands he would tell, with a chuckle peculiar to himself, how he and Mr. Hunt, or Mr, Gates, had outwitted the mischief concocted by the students the night before. Once they had carried off the tongue of the old College bell and, filling the upturned bell with water, left it to freeze. This was discovered in season to be made right before it was time to ring for morning prayers, — for there happened to be two extra bell tongues. A second time, and a third, the same thing occurred, but the old College bell rang out as clear as ever, and there was no chance for " cutting prayers." " Boys," said Charley, " I '11 tell you some- thing, I've got a whole barrel full of bell- tongues, and you better not try that again, for as fast as you take one out, I can put one in." In point of fact, an old sledge- [ i8 ] '"''Prof. Charley'^ hammer was made to do duty the third time in place of the missing part, but it answered all the purpose for the occasion. One morning the old time-honored Bible was missing from its place on the pulpit desk. The loss was discovered before morning prayers, by that watchful eye that seemed to see everything concerning the College. Very soon a mysterious message was left at the president's door — "Mr. Stearns might as well put a Bible in his pocket when he goes over to prayers." The hint was taken and, to the wonder of some, the exercises went on as usual. Once a young instructor was locked into his room. Watching from his window he saw the man with the keys, and was silently let out from his prison, appeared as usual to conduct his recitation, and no one ever knew, "how he got out," When the grass on the College campus was cut, the President's order was to have it all removed before night. Once, how- ever, this was neglected, and the sight of [ 19 ] ''Prof. Charley'' the new-mown hay was too attractive to be resisted. In the early morning, as he went his rounds, Charley discovered the plat- form in the College chapel piled high with the hay. But when the students met for morning prayers, everything was as usual, much to the chagrin of some who had ex- pended so much zeal in this direction the previous night. In the autumn, when the leaves were plentiful on the ground, my father would say to the janitor, " See that those leaves are carried off before night ; they are too great a temptation if left there." But there came a time when the order was forgotten, and several bonfires were started in the grass. Charley, seeing the fun going on, filled his pails with water and, while fresh leaves were being collected, quietly emptied his pails on the burning piles. Repeating this at every new supply, he said at last, "'Taint no use, boys, I shall pour on the water as often as you pile on the leaves." Then there was "Sabrina," the nymph [ 20 ] '■•■1^^ \ ''Prof. Charley'' that presided over the College flower- garden, whose fame still lives, and who, it is darkly hinted, can yet be seen by those who know her hiding-place. Smiling always, she sat serene and unclothed. Sometimes she held in her hand a bunch of flowers. On one occasion her friends took pity upon her destitute condition and furnished her with a fresh wardrobe from the clothes- line in my father's back yard. But Charley was early in the kitchen, to restore the garments and chuckle over the fun he had spoiled . It often seemed strange that my father should appear at just the right moment when a "cane-rush" or some unexpected uproar was taking place. Yet I doubt if any student can recall a time when Charley ever betrayed him. He held all confidences as sacred. Names he never gave, nor was he asked to give them. The following anecdote has been recently sent to me, and although the incident hap- pened after my father's family left Amherst, [ 21 ] ''Prof. Charley'' I am assured that it comes from a trust- worthy source. "Once a certain president of Amherst did disk Charley to give him the names of cer- tain students whom Charley had seen com- mitting some act of depredation. Charley declined to furnish the desired information. The president then commanded Charley to tell the names. Still no information was forthcoming. The president was vexed, and threatened to remove such an undiiti- ful, obstinate janitor; but, on sober second thought, concluded to do nothing further, Greek had met Greek, and Charley emerged triumphant from the conflict. A story of such grit seems worth mentioning." So it was that, with shrewdness, tact and good- nature, he was ever loyal to both students and faculty. After Charley was married, he was anxious to have a birthday. Sometimes it had been in March, sometimes in mid- winter. But one day he said, very wisely, that his sister had told him he was born in [ 22 ] ''Prof. Charley'' January, and tlcciding upon a clay, he has since, so far as I know, clung to that date and belief. That year some of the students in some way heard tliat Charley would be so many years old on that day, and they platmed a surprise for the evenin<;. Afloi- su|)por a large number of the " boys " went to his house, carrying with them a l;u};e, com- fortable chair, which they presented with appropriate speeches. Some one had given I'vliza, his wife, a liint of the surprise-party, and she had prepared cake and lemonade which she served in her dainty, pretty, lady- like way. When the " boys " left they gave cheer upon cheer for Prof. Charley, leaving him more than happy. No doubt you may still see the chair, for it was always carefully treasured, a memento of more prosperous days. When the war broke out, my brother l^'razar joined the Twenty-first Massachu- setts Volunteers. Charley wished to go as his servant, but b^iza. would not consent. [ 23 ] ''Prof. Charley'' During the first excitement of the war a large flag was bought by the students, and the flag-staff was placed on the Chapel tower. My brother spliced the rope, saw that all was right for raising the flag, and when everything was ready, said, "Now, Charley, see that this flag always goes up when there is a victory, and at every cele- bration," True to his trust, Charley always raised the flag. "I promised Mr. Frazar, you know, I 'd h'ist that flag," he would say, and lovingly he watched it, and many times he brought it to us to repair a rent or a tattered edge. When President Lincoln was assassinated, the flag was half-masted. When the news came that Adjutant Steams was killed and that the body was on the way home, Charley was sent to attend to everything needful. It was he who brought home the now useless sword, and put it reverently into the hands of one of the sisters, saying, "put it away, don't let your father see it." It was Charley who said, "you mustn't see him." It was Charley [ 24 ] ''Prof. Charley'' who sat up all night in the cold hall of the library, "so he shouldn't be left alone." And it was Charley who was the last one to leave the tomb, the temporary burial-place of the dear soldier boy. When Richmond was taken, some of the students were desirous of firing the cannon, given by General Burnside to the Twenty- first Massachusetts Regiment, in memory of Adjutant Stearns, and presented by the Regiment to Amherst College. When the request to fire the cannon was brought to my father by one of the most popular officers of the College, my father said, " What, fire that cannon, covered over and made sacred with the names of the dead ? You may fire it, but I shall go into the cellar." Seeing how strongly he felt, the students said no more. But Charley brought back word that some of the towns- people were determined to have the cannon out, and one man had threatened to fire it off on the president's doorstep. It was not long before Charley gave the [ 25 ] ''Prof. Charley'' warning that the crowd was coming up the street. My father stood on the steps of the Library building, a part of the time alone and a part of the time with a member of the faculty by his side. When the crowd reached the door, he allowed them one by one to pass into the building, look at the cannon, and see for himself that it was spiked and could not therefore be used. Charley remained a faithful watchman while the excitement lasted, watching far into the night lest there should be more trouble. At my father's burial, Charley walked by the side of the casket, at the head of the long procession, the body being carried by relays of the students. Just as they left the church there came a sudden and drenching summer shower. Said Charley, " I held the umbrella over him so he shouldn't get wet." And he stood by the grave until the last sod was placed and the mound heaped with flowers. When, a week or two after, Commence- [ 26 ] ''Prof. Charley'' ment day came, Charley appeared at the house in great excitement, and said, " They want me to take over your father's chair " (which was to be draped and then placed as usual on the platform at the College Hall), " I'm not going to do it ; Mr. Gates can see to it, and bring it back ; I sha'n't," " Very well, Charley," we said, " you need not take it." The chair that he had carried back and forth from the house to the Hall, on Com- mencement day, for so many years, was then for the first and last time borne by another. During the year after my father's death, Charley came but seldom to the house. But one day, soon after Walker Hall was burned, he came into the kitchen and said in a whisper to a member of the family, " See what I have here ! " He then took from his pocket a small parcel wrapped in several folds of an old newspaper. Care- fully unwrapping them, he at length dis- closed an ear broken from the marble bust of my father. In searching among the [ 27 ] ''Prof. Charley'" ruins he had found and treasured this strange relic. It is here that Charley's immediate con- nection with my father and his familymust close. But his touching faithfulness to his wife Eliza, the " pretty girl " he fell in love with and married when he first went to Amherst, deserves more than a mere notice. After he was married, Eliza took the en- tire charge of Charley's affairs, and as he was very fond and proud of her, he was glad to have it so. Eliza was very bright and very thrifty. She could read and write, and was, moreover, a zealous Methodist, but Charley always said, he wasn't "good enough to jine the Church," He entirely approved of Eliza's religion, but not of her sect. He "didn't like that denomination " he said. Coming home late one night, some one who saw him said, "What are you doing, Charley } " " Looking for Eliza," was the answer, " She's gone to meetin', way down to her church ; them Methodists are a travellin' people." [ 28 ] ''Prof, Charley'' So it was, when Charley went to church it was always to the College church. Many of the Alumni can recall him as he sat there, Sunday after Sunday, dressed in his black wedding suit, Eliza, trim and neat in her best gown, with Mary, their adopted daughter, seated between them, in their pew in the gallery of the old College Chapel, no one more reverent and devout than he and his family. Eliza toiled at the wash-tub. Day by day she washed, ironed and mended the students' clothes. She was an excellent cook, a quiet and skilled waitress. During Commencement week she always helped prepare the president's house for the guests, assisted with the cooking, and waited upon the table. One afternoon and evening she always left herself free to go to Mr. Dickinson for his yearly " levee." So Eliza worked and saved. Charley brought to her all of his earnings, and she hoarded them until, little by little, they bought a cow, a horse, and finally a piece [ 29 ] ''Prof. Charley'' of land. Then Eliza, ambitious to have a place of her own, built a house and mortgaged their property, hoping to work hard still and secure a home for their old age. But to this home came sickness worse than death. For many months Charley bore the burden and care of his sick wife alone. He cooked his own meals, slept when he could, mended his clothes, work- ing day and night when he could be spared from his College duties, at the same time nursing and watching his poor insane Eliza. Kind friends, at last, seeing his helpless situation, tried to assist him, and urged him to send his wife to an asylum. But to every proposition to send her away he would turn a deaf ear, while to the members of the family he would say, " I promised your father to take care of her." She grew worse, and still Charley refused to let her be taken from him. Charley, who had no idea of money, used all that he [ 30 ] ''Prof. Charley'' had. Debts accumulated. His little legacy, left him by an unmarried sister, had to go to pay these debts. Touched by his devotion, friends con- tributed to his support, and provided a nurse for the now almost helpless woman. When death at last mercifully released the poor sufferer, there was nothing left to pay off the mortgage. House and land had to be sacrificed, and the poor old man had to give up everything. " I aint got no home, no more," he says pathetically, " I live most anywheres now." During rare visits to Amherst, we always seek out and pay a visit to Charley. When, not having seen him for several years, I said, " do you remember me .? " " Yes," with a bright and affectionate look, " I can't quite rec'lect your name, but — you 're my little girl." I am happy to add that Charley has found in Mr. Joseph O. Thompson, now instructor at Amherst, a thoughtful and most considerate friend. [ 31 ] ''Prof. Charley'' Mr. Thompson went to Charley when Eliza died. Together they selected a suitable lot at the cemetery for her burial. He saw that flowers were provided, that there should be singing, prayers, and every comforting arrangement made for the funeral services. Since then he has cared most tenderly for Charley ; soothed him in his grief, looked after his daily needs by begging money from old friends of the Col- lege, and when this was slow in coming, paying what was needed from his own pocket. But for Mr. Thompson, the poor old- man would be indeed homeless. At present Charley is boarding with the people who nursed and cared for Eliza in her last illness. They were very kind in caring for Charley, and he is as happy with them as it is possible for him to be away from his own home. Mr. Thompson has provided that Charley should keep his horse, for as he wrote in a recent letter, *' I reasoned that the poor old man should have some employment, and I believe that [ 32 ] ''Prof. Charley'' the dearest treasure he has now is that old horse." My story is simply of a negro, now eighty years old. He has served Amherst Col- lege faithfully for forty years. The com- fort of students and faculty during this time depended more upon him, perhaps, than upon any other man. Another might have done what he has done, but few could do it better, or feel the pride that he has felt in his " boys." With the help of his wife he had saved his earnings, bought land, built a house and barn, owned a horse, a cow, a pig, hens and chickens, and to- gether they cultivated his little garden. When the College had finished with his services, he expected to live on the pro- ceeds of his little farm. With Eliza's thrift and economy he would have done so — but because of a promise, made many years before, he was very " stubborn " in refusing to have his wife taken to an in- sane asylum. Not knowing the value of money, his savings, which Eliza had always [ 33 ] ''Prof. Charley'' taken care of, were soon exhausted, and, as she lived on and on, every year growing more helpless and more dependent, Charley, because he still loved her, was ever tender with her, and kept her near him, while slowly but surely his debts ate up his little property. Perhaps it would have been wiser if he had allowed her to be taken to an asylum and cared for there. But Charley was not wise. It is a " happy-go-lucky " race, and if it has bread for to-day, it seldom takes thought for the morrow. Is it too much to ask his "boys," to cheer up the old man? It is only for a few years longer, but let those few years be as happy as they can be made to one who " aint got no home, no more." A. E. L. [ 34 ] *"JN;85J802 JUN. n 1902 ,m, ^j 1902 ■02