As if written in the stars themselves, Abdul Rahman's path crossed that of numerous luminaries of 19th Century America, as the Prince and former slave sought the aid of these leaders of the young country which held, but had not yet fulfilled, the promise of freedom for all.

Forty years of enslavement and hard labor from sun-up to sundown on a steamy Mississippi plantation could not dim the noble spirit of African Prince Abdul Rahman, who never wavered in his belief that freedom, not bondage, was his rightful destiny. In 1828, with the help of friends in Natchez and the intervention of the U.S. Government, plantation owner Thomas Foster was persuaded to release the Prince from slavery, and Abdul Rahman finally got his freedom.

It was not an unconditional release: Foster's one requirement—that the Prince return immediately to his African home—was one condition Abdul Rahman could not keep. Bravely defying the dictate of his former owner, the Prince instead embarked on a tour of the northern states, telling his story before huge audiences and seeking support. In his heart he carried the image of his children, still bound in bitter slavery in Natchez; in his pocket, he carried his subscription book, soliciting money to buy their freedom.

Abdul Rahman’s tour of the North made him the most famous African in America, and a flashpoint of controversy in the increasingly ugly 1828 presidential campaign. Throughout the tour, Abdul Rahman encountered millionaires, governors, congressmen, ministers, abolitionists, even a President—the leading men of the day. In all these meetings, Abdul Rahman treated the men as peers and equals, acting always with the dignity of a Prince. In turn, his own nobility of spirit was recognized by many of those he met.

Watch Screen Clips

In April, 1828, as Abdul Rahman boarded the steamship Neptune and watched Natchez fade into the distance for the last time, it was surely a bittersweet parting. His own freedom in hand, Abdul Rahman carried with him the heavy knowledge that his children's tether had not been cut.

He was accompanied on his journey by one of Foster’s wealthy planter friends, Nathaniel A. Ware. One of the luminaries of the colonial South, Nathaniel A. Ware was a public official in Natchez and one-time acting governor of Mississippi. As the father of poets Catherine Ann Warfield and Eleanor Percy Lee, he headed what was to become a Southern literary dynasty. Known as the "Two Sisters of the West", the daughters were the first wave of writers connected to the Percy family, which would soon become famous for its literary contributions throughout the Antebellum South. Among its later members was the famous novelist Sarah Dorsey, who was possibly the mistress of Confederate President Jefferson Davis.

But as Ware accompanied the freed slave on his journey from the land of his servitude in 1828, the Confederacy, secession, and the unstoppable tide of abolition had not yet appeared on history's stage. On this day, Ware was an official of the status quo who stayed by Abdul Rahman's side until the two arrived in Washington D.C. Here in the seat of the government which had helped secure his release, the Prince parted company with Ware, who went on to Philadelphia.

Months later, as Abdul Rahman passed through Philadelphia on his northern tour, the two met again. Perhaps it was the time Ware spent in the city where the Declaration of Independence, proclaiming the equality of all men, had been heralded by the Liberty Bell, or perhaps it was the time he spent with Abdul Rahman, but Ware stepped outside his expected role. A slave owner himself, he donated $10 (which in those days was real money) to the fund to free Abdul Rahman's children.

One of Abdul Rahman’s first stops on his journey to the U.S. capital was the seaport of Baltimore, where he hoped to meet with Benjamin Lundy, publisher of the anti-slavery newspaper Genius of Universal Emancipation. Founder of several anti-slavery magazines, Lundy was one of the leading abolitionists of the early 19th century. A meeting with him had been suggested by Colonel Marschalk, the Mississippi journalist who was an early champion, and later detractor, of Abdul Rahman. In fact, Lundy had even already printed stories about Abdul Rahman, and his help in telling the plight of the Prince's children would be valuable, as he was a man whose reach went far and wide. Renowned abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison was co-editor of the Genius of Universal Emancipation before moving to New England to found The Liberator. Lundy's own anti-slavery efforts took him across the United States, where he preached emphatically against the evils of slavery, risking imprisonment and physical attacks from slave traders. Indeed, he was away on this business when Abdul Rahman came to Baltimore.

The Prince's story nonetheless reached the people of Baltimore. In the May 10th issue, Lundy’s assistant published a heartfelt plea to the citizens of Baltimore: "Though this victim of ruthless misfortune has lately stepped into the enjoyment of his natural rights, he has children remaining at Natchez. While he related to us this painful truth, the tears gushed from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks!"

Watch Screen Clips

Known as "The Great Compromiser," Secretary of State Henry Clay never compromised his principles when it came to defending the Union. As a congressman, senator, Speaker of the House, and Secretary of State, Clay was at the center of every crisis in the U.S. government, wheeling and dealing in desperate attempts to stave off Civil War. He was also at the center of the saga surrounding the Prince, and proved to be a key figure in his last year in America. Though Clay was a Southern man of the times and owned slaves himself in Kentucky, he abhorred the institution, calling it "the deepest stain on the character of the country," and favored gradual emancipation; and was only too glad to help Abdul Rahman regain his freedom. It was Clay who wrote the original letter telling Foster that the government wanted to free Abdul Rahman, and when that was achieved, it was Clay who provided the Prince with a passport that allowed him to travel throughout the northern states more easily. Clay met with Abdul Rahman twice in those last months, first in Baltimore and then in Washington DC, where he even offered to let the Prince stay in his own house. Abdul Rahman, declined, but he is quoted as saying how "highly delighted he was with Mr. Clay."

Though powerful in Washington, Clay never gained widespread national support due to his views on slavery and a centralized government. He sought the presidency five times, but never won it. When told by advisors to tone down his unpopular views, Clay simply replied, "I’d rather be right than be President." Clay was never president, but he was surely right when it came to slavery and to Abdul Rahman's quest for freedom.

Clay continued to serve his country until his death, when he became the first person ever to lie in state at the U.S. Capitol Building. But perhaps the loyalty of this politician to the principles of equality and freedom, which so delighted Abdul Rahman, is the greater legacy.

Watch Screen Clips

As President of the United States, it was John Quincy Adams who directed the government to seek Abdul Rahman’s freedom. But the meeting between the President and the Prince, following the granting of that freedom, did not end the way either man had hoped.

As the son of John Adams, one of the founding fathers and the second president of the United States, John Quincy Adams had quite a legacy to live up to. He distinguished himself early in politics and diplomacy. As Secretary of State under President James Monroe, Adams helped cement vital trade ties for the young nation, and masterminded the Monroe Doctrine. Adams’ term as President was not as popular and he had reason to be concerned for his political future.

After the Prince arrived in Washington, he met with Adams twice. The first meeting was a success, as the two men talked not as a wealthy aristocrat and poor ex-slave, but as peers and equals. The second meeting, unfortunately, was tinged with political considerations. Abdul Rahman asked Adams to donate money to free his enslaved children. The President, already realizing that freeing the slave would end up hurting him in the upcoming election, flatly refused. But aside from political expediency, Abdul Rahman, it turns out, was also a victim of bad timing. According to his diary, Adams was sick and already having a miserable day as unwelcome guest after unwelcome guest came to the White House to ask for his help. If the Prince had come on a different day, when Adams was in robust good health and enjoying pleasant visitors, might his reaction to Abdul Rahman's request been different?

In any case, after a bitter campaign in 1828, Adams lost the presidency to Andrew Jackson. Later in life, Adams was elected to Congress, where he became the government’s leading opponent to slavery, and helped organize the successful defense of the Africans who revolted on the slaveship Amistad. Perhaps his experiences with the slave Prince Abdul Rahman helped set the stage for this later less equivocal commitment to justice.

Watch Screen Clips

The portly Secretary of the Navy, Samuel L. Southard, whom Abdul Rahman met during his Washington visit, seemed fated to become part of the Prince's story. Though their meeting was brief, Southard would play a major role in Abdul Rahman’s journey away from slavery. As Secretary of the Navy, Southard had extensive ties in Africa and with the American Colonization Society. These were vital connections as Southard was placed in charge of organizing Abdul Rahman’s ocean voyage to Liberia, from which he was to travel overland to his home.

Southard was a career politician, serving as a Senator, Governor of New Jersey, and acting Vice President under John Tyler, but his lasting legacy is as one of the most important leaders in early American maritime history.
He vitalized the young Navy, building the first naval dry docks and hospitals, improving administration, and promoting U.S. exploration as far as the Pacific Ocean—this in a time before the Panama Canal. The destroyer USS Southard, which fought its way through the worst sea battles in World War II, carried his name and legacy as a Naval leader into the next century. But Southard should also be remembered as the man who helped reverse the cruel Middle Passage, which took Prince Abdul Rahman away from his own destiny as a leader in Africa.

Among the many officials Abdul Rahman met and made a lasting impression on during his northern tour, was a young Congressman named Edward Everett, who was so moved by the Prince’s story that he donated $5 to Abdul Rahman’s subscription book to free his children. Everett was still touched by the meeting decades later. In 1853, he recalled in a speech that Abdul Rahman "…had the port and air of a prince, and the literary culture of a scholar."

Perhaps Everett simply recognized Abdul Rahman as a kindred spirit, who, under other circumstances, might have been his colleague, rather than someone who needed his help. Considered the greatest American orator of his time, Edward Everett was one of the most respected and distinguished men in the country, both in politics and education. The first American to receive a Ph.D., Everett was a professor and later President of Harvard University. In politics, he served as a Congressman, Senator, Governor of Massachusetts, and Secretary of State.

In the battle for the heart of the young nation which would take place nearly a quarter of a century after Abdul Rahman's northern tour, Everett remained on the right side of history. The most memorable moment of Everett’s career came in 1863 when he was invited to speak at Gettysburg. Unfortunately, the concept that "Less is more" was lost on Everett, and the dense, two-hour sermon he delivered before President Lincoln’s remarks quickly became a historical footnote in the shadow of Lincoln's much briefer and more eloquent words. Schoolchildren everywhere learn of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, but the same can't be said for Everett's remarks. This was not lost on Everett himself, who would later write a note to President Lincoln admitting, "I should be glad, if I could flatter myself that I came as near the central idea of the occasion in two hours, as you did in two minutes."

As a member of the American Colonization Society’s Board of Managers, lawyer and poet Francis Scott Key had the opportunity to hear firsthand about the horrors of the slave trade from Abdul Rahman. In a special and unusually well-attended meeting of the Board, Abdul Rahman, Key and other Society members discussed the possibility of purchasing the freedom of the Prince’s children still enslaved on Foster’s plantation. This the Society was unable to do, though it did help pay for Abdul Rahman’s fundraising travels through the North and his eventual return to Africa.

Famous for writing "The Star Spangled Banner," Francis Scott Key was only an amateur poet, and was better known at the time as a high profile lawyer, taking on some of the larger cases of the early 19th Century—he successfully defended Sam Houston after ‘The Father of Texas’ got in a fistfight with a Congressman, and was chosen to prosecute Richard Lawrence, who had tried to assassinate President Andrew Jackson in 1832.

Key's immortal ode to the United States flag was inspired as he watched the British bombard a fort in Baltimore Harbor. The poem, "The Defense of Fort McHenry" was eventually combined with an old English drinking song, and became the U.S. National Anthem in 1916. Although Key's phrase "land of the free" would not encompass all U.S. citizens for many years, Key's small part in Abdul Rahman's fight for the freedom of his children was a step in that direction. Though he never considered himself a songwriter, Key was elected to the Songwriters’ Hall of Fame in 1970.

Press play to listen to The Star Spangled Banner, written by F.S. Key. Star-Spangled Banner.mp3

Reverend Thomas Gallaudet himself sought a meeting with Abdul Rahman, rather than the other way around. The Reverend first contacted Abdul Rahman after reading some of the Prince’s remarks about Christianity in the newspaper and after meeting him, became one of Abdul Rahman's most loyal supporters. Not only was Gallaudet moved by Abdul Rahman’s quest to free his children, but he also saw in the Prince a surefire method of spreading Christianity to Africa. Abdul Rahman had no intention of converting to Christianity, but pretended to be open to the idea to insure Gallaudet’s help. The Reverend joined Abdul Rahman on parts of the northern tour, appealing eloquently to congregations to raise money. Gallaudet was an energetic preacher who from an early age had wanted to devote his life to helping others. In early October, he had significant success doing just that: His heartfelt homilies netted Abdul Rahman over $150 from churchgoers.

Watch Screen Clips

At various times, Gallaudet wanted to be a lawyer, a missionary, and an author of children’s books. He found his true calling when he met Alice Cogswell, the deaf daughter of his neighbor, and devoted his life to the education of the deaf in America. In 1817, he founded the Hartford School for the Deaf, the first institution of its kind in America. Though Gallaudet also spent his energies on other causes, such as the American Colonization Society and the exporting of Christianity overseas, it is his pioneering work in the education of the deaf for which he is remembered. This cause remains alive today because of the interest he instilled in his son, Edward, who founded the first college of the deaf, Gallaudet University, in Washington, D.C. in 1857.

In New York City, Abdul Rahman became a good friend of John Russwurm, who since 1827, had been editor of Freedom’s Journal, the first newspaper in America printed, edited and owned by African Americans. The son of a white Jamaican merchant and an unknown black mother, John Brown Russwurm was at the forefront of many things: He attended Maine’s Bowdoin College, where he was a classmate and friend of Nathaniel Hawthorne, and was the third African American to graduate from college in the United States. Although initially an opponent of the American Colonization Society, Russwurm nonetheless befriended Abdul Rahman and was profoundly influenced by him. Indeed, after meeting the Prince, Russwurm himself began to consider immigrating to Liberia.

When Abdul Rahman left the city, Russwurm wrote a bittersweet farewell in Freedom’s Journal: "Abduhl Rahman came among us as a stranger, but he departs from our city with the well wishes of thousands." New York was not to be Russworm's city much longer: He was soon to follow in the footsteps of his new friend, crossing back over the same ocean that had brought his ancestors to slavery. Having changed his stance on the American Colonization Society, Russworm emigrated to Liberia in 1829, where he served as Colonial Secretary for the Society and eventually as Governor of the Maryland Section of the colony.

By the time Abdul Rahman arrived in Boston, his hopes of freeing his children were beginning to fade. Public interest in his story had begun to wane, and as word of his travels reached the South, it became clear that the Prince was making just as many enemies as friends. In Boston, however, the city’s black population gave Abdul Rahman a hero’s welcome. At the extravagant banquet held in his honor at the city’s African Masonic Hall, one of the marshals was the passionate activist, David Walker. A string of toasts, many led by Walker, were made in honor of Abdul Rahman during an evening that must have bolstered the Prince’s spirits as he prepared himself to make the long journey home without the freedom of his children having been achieved.

Though he was a simple owner of a clothing store, David Walker became one of the most inflammatory and controversial abolitionists in U.S. history. Within months of Abdul Rahman’s visit to Boston, Walker published Walker’s Appeal, a pamphlet in which he argued for the emancipation of the slaves and condoned violence as a way of achieving that goal. The pamphlet spread throughout the country like wildfire, and caused debate and controversy wherever it was read. Cities in the South were terrified by the Appeal, and tried to suppress its circulation. Many free blacks in the South were arrested for even owning the pamphlet, and plantation owners offered a $3,000 reward to anyone who would kill its author. In 1830, Walker was mysteriously found dead outside his home; city officials claimed that Walker died of tuberculosis, but the cause of his death remains a topic of debate to this day.

By then, Prince Abdul Rahman was also gone, having returned to Africa only to die shortly before reaching his home and reclaiming the destiny denied him for the better part of his life.

Watch Screen Clips