Chapter 8

My Dear Madam, your letter of September 23d I have received. I regret exceedingly that it is not in my power to furnish the article you have done me the honor to solicit, for the "Autographs for Freedom." Particularly do I regret this now, when the great conflict between aristocracy and democracy is about being renewed all over the continent of Europe, and when despots are pointing with exultation to the unparalleled enormities of our "peculiar institutions," and the friends of republican equality, in all lands, are disheartened by our example. Would the slaveholders of the south but consent to place those who till their lands, under the protection of wholesome and impartial law, and pay them honest wages, it would ere long cause human rights to be respected in every corner of the globe. It should be the mission of America, by the silent influence of a glorious example, to revolutionize all despotisms. We have a vast continent to subdue and to adorn, and we need the aid of millions more of willing hands to accomplish the magnificent enterprise. With much esteem I am truly yours,

Disfellowshipping Slaveholders.

The late Dr. Chalmers, not long before his death, spoke with disapprobation of Abolitionists in the United States, "for undertaking," as he said, "to decide, without sufficient evidence, upon the irreligious character of ministers and church-members. _They_, forsooth, undertake to exclude men from the Lord's table, who are in good and regular standing in the church of Christ, because they happen to hold slaves! _They_ pretend to decide who, and who are not Christians!" It is marvellous that so learned and so distinguished a man should have fallen into such a mistake; and, on hearsay, ventured to utter a most calumnious accusation against the friends of the slave.

The Abolitionists might, perhaps, make decisions in the case not wide of the mark, founded upon the rule given by Jesus Christ: "By their fruits ye shall know them." But, in declaring that slaveholders ought not to be fellowshipped as Christians, they do not say whether a slaveholder is or is not a Christian. On the contrary, they leave each one with his Maker, the INFALLIBLE JUDGE. But this they do:--they hold that no slaveholder, professing to be a Christian, is entitled to Christian FELLOWSHIP, _because_ slaveholding is a sin, and should subject the offender to discipline. Neither Dr. Chalmers nor any other divine could deny the propriety of this, provided they believed that slaveholding is a sin, or an ecclesiastical offence. The apostle Paul directed that Christians should not _eat_ with an _extortioner_. A slaveholder is an extortioner. If, then, a Christian may not eat a common meal with such an offender, may he sit at the Lord's table with him? I trow not.

LEWIS TAPPAN.

A Leaf from my Scrap Book.

MAY, 1849.

SAMUEL R. WARD AND FREDERICK DOUGLASS.

Perhaps a fitter occasion never presented itself, nor was more properly availed of, for the exhibition of talent, than when Frederick Douglass and Samuel R. Ward debated the "question" whether the Constitution was or not a pro-slavery document.

With the "question" at issue we have, at present, nothing to do; and with the arguments so far only as they exhibit the men.

Both eminent for talent of an order (though differing somewhat in cast) far above the common level of great men.

If any inequalities existed, they served rather to heighten than diminish the interest of the occasion, giving rise to one of the severest contests of mind with mind that has yet come to my notice.

Douglass, sincere in the opinions he has espoused, defends them with a fervor and eloquence that finds scarcely a competitor.

In his very look--his gesture--in his whole manner, there is so much of genuine, earnest eloquence, that they leave no time for reflection. Now you are reminded of one rushing down some fearful steep, bidding you follow; now on some delightful stream, still beckoning you onward.

In either case, no matter what your prepossessions or oppositions, you for the moment, at least, forget the justness or unjustness of his cause and obey the summons, and loath, if at all, you return to your former post.

Not always, however, is he successful in retaining you. Giddy as you may be with the descent you have made, delighted as you are with the pleasure afforded, with the elysium to which he has wafted you, you return too often dissatisfied with his and your own impetuosity and want of firmness. You feel that you had had only a dream, a pastime, not a reality.

This great power of momentary captivation consists in his eloquence of manner--his just appreciation of words.

In listening to him, your whole soul is fired--every nerve strung--every passion inflated--every faculty you possess ready to perform at a moment's bidding. You stop not to ask why or wherefore.

'Tis a unison of mighty yet harmonious sounds that play upon your imagination; and you give yourself up, for a time, to their irresistible charm.

At last, the _cataract_ which roared around you is hushed, the _tornado_ is passed, and you find yourself sitting upon a bank (at whose base roll but tranquil waters), quietly meditating that why, amid such a display of power, no greater effect had really been produced.

After all, it must be admitted, there is a power in Mr. Douglass rarely to be found in any other man.

With copiousness of language, and finish of diction, when even ideas fail, words come to his aid--arranging themselves, as it were, so completely, that they not only captivate, but often deceive us for ideas; and hence the vacuum that would necessarily occur in the address of an ordinary _speaker_ is filled up, presenting the same beautiful harmony as do the lights and shades of a picture.

From Mr. Douglass, in this, perhaps, as much as in any other respect, does Mr. _Ward_ differ. Ideas form the basis of all Mr. Ward utters. Words are only used to express those ideas.

If words and ideas are not inseparable, then, as mortar is to the stones that compose the building, so are his words to his ideas.

In this, I judge, lays Mr. Ward's greatest strength. Concise without abruptness--without extraordinary stress, always clear and forcible; if sparing of ornament, never inelegant. In all, there appears a consciousness of strength, developed by close study and deep reflection, and only put forth because the occasion demanded,--a power not only to examine but to enable you to see the fairness of that examination and the justness of its conclusions.

You feel Douglass to be right, without always seeing it; perhaps it is not too much to say, when Ward is right you see it.

His appeals are directed rather to the understanding than the imagination; but so forcibly do they take possession of it, that the heart unhesitatingly yields.

If, as we have said, Mr. Douglass seems as one whirling down some steep descent whose very impetuosity impels;--ere you are aware of it, it is the quiet serenity of Mr. Ward, as he points up the rugged ascent, and invites you to follow, that inspires your confidence and ensures your safety. Step by step do you with him climb the rugged steep; and, as you gain each succeeding eminence, he points you to new scenes and new delights;--now grand--sublime; now picturesque and beautiful;--always real. Most speakers fail to draw a perfect figure. This point I think Mr. Ward has gained. His figures, when done, stand out with prominence, possessing both strength and elegance.

Douglass' imagery is fine--vivid--often gaudily painted. Ward's pictures--bold, strong, glowing.

Douglass speaks right on; you acknowledge him to have been on the ground--nay, to have gone over the field; _Ward_ seeks for and finds the corners; sticks the stakes, and leaves them standing; we know where to find them.

Mr. Douglass deals in generals; Mr. Ward reduces everything to a point.

Douglass is the _lecturer_; Ward the _debater_. Douglass powerful in invective; Ward in argument. What advantage Douglass gains in mimicry Ward recovers in wit.

Douglass has sarcasm, Ward point.

Here, again, an essential difference may be pointed out:--

Douglass says much, at times, you regret he uttered. This, however, is the real man, and on reflection you like him the better for it. What Ward says you feel to be but a necessity, growing out of the case,--that it ought to have been said--that you would have said precisely the same yourself, without adding or diminishing a single sentence.

Douglass, in manner, is at all times pleasing; Ward seldom less so; often raises to the truly majestic, and never descends below propriety. If you regret when Douglass ceases to speak, you are anxious Ward should continue.

Dignity is an essential quality in an orator--I mean true dignity.

Douglass has this in an eminent degree; Ward no less so, coupled with it great self-possession. He is never disconcerted--all he desires he says.

In one of his replies to Mr. Douglass I was struck with admiration, and even delight, at the calm, dignified manner in which he expressed himself, and his ultimate triumph under what seemed to me very peculiar circumstances.

Douglass' was a splendid effort--a beautiful effusion. One of those outpourings from the deeps of his heart of which he can so admirably give existence to.

He had brought down thunders of well-merited applause; and sure I am, that a whisper, a breath from almost any other opponent than Mr. Ward, would have produced a tumult of hisses.

Not so, however, now. The quiet, majestic air, the suppressed richness of a deep-toned, but well-cultivated voice, as the speaker paid a few well-timed compliments to his opponents, disturbed not, as it had produced, the dead stillness around.

Next followed some fine sallies of wit, which broke in on the calm.

He then proceeded to make and accomplished one of the most finished speeches to which I have ever listened, and sat down amidst a perfect storm of cheers.

It was a noble burst of eloquence,--the gatherings up of the choicest possible culled thoughts, and poured forth, mingling with a unison of brilliant flashes and masterly strokes, following each other in quick succession; and though felt--deeply felt, no more to be described than the vivid lightning's zig-zag, as produced from the deep-charged thunder-cloud.

If Douglass is not always successful in his attempts to heave up his ponderous missiles at his opponents, from the point of his descent, he always shows determination and spirit.

He is often too far down the _pass_, however, (herculean though he be,) for his intent.

Ward, from the eminence he has gained, giant-like, hurls them back with the force and skill of a practised marksman, almost invariably to the detriment of his already fallen victim.

In Douglass you have a man, in whose soul the iron of oppression has far entered, and you feel it.

He tells the story of his wrongs, so that they stand out in all their naked ugliness.

In Ward, you have one with strong native powers,--I know of none stronger; superadded a careful and extensive cultivation; an understanding so matured, that fully enables him to successfully grapple with men or errors, and portray truth in a manner equalled by few.

After all, it must be admitted, both are men of extraordinary powers of mind.

Both well qualified for the task they have undertaken.

I have, rather than anything else, drawn these outline portraits for our _young men_, who can fill them up at leisure.

The subjects are both fine models, and may be studied with profit by all,--especially those who are destined to stand in the front rank.

NOTE.--It has been some years since the above sketch was drawn; and though my impressions, especially of Mr. Douglass, has undergone some slight change since,--seeing in him enlarged, strengthened, and more matured thought, still I think, on the whole, the careful observer will attest substantially to its correctness.

"Who is my Neighbor?"

It gives me great pleasure to express my interest in your objects, by the following sentiment: Sympathy for the slave,--the clearest exhibition in modern times of the spirit which, in the parable of the Samaritan, first illumined the wrong of oppression, and the divineness of brotherly love.

Consolation for the Slave.

Slave though thou art to unfeeling power, Till wrong shall reach her final hour, Mourn not as one on whom the day Will never shed a healing ray. The star of hope, that leads the dawn, Appears, and night will soon be gone.

Long has thy night of sorrow been, Without a star to cheer the scene. Nay; there was One that watched and wept, When thou didst think all mercy slept; That eye, which beams with love divine, Where all celestial glories shine.

Justice will soon the sceptre take; The scourge shall fall, the tyrant quake. Hark! 'tis the voice of One from heaven; The word, the high command is given, "Break every yoke, loose every chain, To usher in the Saviour's reign."

The Key.

The Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin: a key to unlock any mind that is not rendered inaccessible by the rust of conservatism or party-spirit, and to open the fountain of every generous affection, which is not closed with impenetrable ice. With this key may every one become familiar, who would know, and both in word and deed "bear witness to the truth!"

The True Mission of Liberty.

If Liberty were to go on a pilgrimage all over the earth, she would find a home in every house, and a welcome in every heart. None would reject the favors she offers if brought to their own doors. Sure and prompt as the impulses of instinct, every bosom would open to admit her and her blessings, but--when her gospel is proclaimed as a common bounty to all the world,--when she is seen visiting and feasting with publicans and sinners, and sitting with her unwashed disciples in familiar and loving companionship, Cæsar and the synagogue are alike alarmed and enraged. When she is found daily in the marketplace and on the mountain-top, in the hamlet and on the highway, ministering to the multitude, healing and feeding them,--showing the same love and reverence for humanity in every variety of conditions, and however disguised or degraded,--the cruelty of caste and the bitterness of bigotry straightway take counsel among themselves how they may destroy her.

Heaven help us! Divided as we are, into the hating and the hated, the oppressors and the oppressed, we have settled it, somehow, that we are of necessity at war with each other--that the welfare of one in some way depends upon the wretchedness of another. How much madness and misery would be spared if we could in any way learn that we are brethren.

The true Spirit of Reform.

The religion of Jesus, acting as a vital principle in the individual heart, and thus leaving the entire mass of humanity, to this alone are we to look as of sufficient power to do away the evils that are now rife in the world. Just so far as the true spirit of Jesus is infused into the soul, and acts in the life of man, we know that sin, in its various forms of sensuality, oppression, and bloodshed, must disappear. All reforms, which are not based on this corner-stone, are superficial; and, however goodly their proportions may appear to the eye of man, they want that firm foundation which will secure them against being undermined or overthrown by the force of adverse circumstances. "Other foundation can no man lay, than that is laid," for the building up of all that is really excellent and heavenly.

But, while we acknowledge the omnipotence of true religion for the ratification of all social wrongs, we are not to rest in the inculcation of its abstract principles and outward forms alone. It is not enough that we ourselves become, or persuade our fellow-men to become professed disciples of Jesus; not enough that, in a general way, we urge the precepts of the gospel. The obtuseness of the human heart, when hardened by habit and early education, requires that we make particular application of the precepts of Christ, and address our efforts to the removal of specific sins: the sins of our own age and country. It may be that our brother, sincerely intending to act in the spirit of Jesus, is yet blinded by the force of habit, and fails to see the sin in which he is living. If our position make us to see more clearly than he the course he should pursue, let us endeavor gently to remove the veil from his eyes, remembering how often our own vision is dimmed by prejudice and outward circumstances. In the moral, as well as in the natural world, we believe that God demands our active coöperation; and, as the farmer not only sows the seed, but roots out the weeds from among the grain, so are we to endeavor to eradicate from the broad field of the moral world those evil practices which obstruct the growth of the harvest of pure and undefiled religion.

"The husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain." So are we obliged often to have "long patience," until we see the manifest blessing of God on our labors. But patient waiting becomes a virtue, only when combined with the exercise of our best powers in promoting the object of our desire. We must adapt our efforts to the express object which we seek to attain. Taking those spiritual weapons which are "mighty for the pulling down of the strongholds" of sin, let us assault the great evils of slavery and oppression of every name and kind, always marching under the banners of the Prince of Peace, whose conquests are achieved not by violence, but by the subduing power of Godlike love. Let us go forth, brethren, sisters, a feeble band though we may seem to the eye of man, yet strong in the assurance that the hosts of heaven are encamped round about us, and that "more are they that are with us, than they that are" on the side of the oppressor; and let us not falter until in God's own good time the word shall be spoken, not as, we would hope, in the whirlwind or the earthquake, but in the "still small voice" of the oppressor's own conviction, saying to the slaves, "Go free!"

A Welcome to Mrs. H. B. Stowe, on her Return from Europe.

She comes, she comes, o'er the bounding wave, Borne swift as an eagle's flight; She comes, the tried friend of the slave,-- Truth's champion for the right.

Not as the blood-stained warrior comes, With shrill-sounding fife and drums; But peaceful by our quiet homes, The conquering heroine comes.

Then welcome to our Pilgrim shore, Tho' sad affliction[6] meet thee; Three million welcomes from God's poor, The south winds bear, to greet thee.

To thee, with chain-linked hearts we come, Which naught but death can sever, To thank thee for thy "Uncle Tom," Thy gentle-hearted "Eva."

When the crushed slave himself shall own, Three million fetters broken, Shall mount before thee, to the Throne; Of thy true life, the token.

Then welcome to our northern hills; Thy own New England dwelling; The birds, the trees, the sparkling rills, All, are thy welcome swelling.

ROCHESTER, N. Y., October 19th, 1853.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] The sickness of her daughter.

Forward.

FROM THE GERMAN OF HOFFMAN, IN FOLLERSLEBEN.

It is a time of swell and flood, We linger on the strand, And all that might to us bring good Lies in the distant land.

O forward! forward! why stand still? The flood will ne'er run dry; Who through the wave not venture will, That land shall never spy.

What has Canada to do with Slavery?

The question is often asked, both in Canada and in the United States: What have we in Canada to do with the Institution of Slavery, as it exists in the neighboring Republic? I do not think that a better answer is necessary, than that which is contained in the following extracts--the former of which is taken from a speech delivered by George Thompson, Esq., at the formation of the Anti-Slavery Society of Canada--the latter from the valuable work of the Rev. Albert Barnes on Slavery:

"Are we separated geographically and politically from the country where slavery reigns? We are, for that very reason, the persons best able to form an unbiassed and sound judgment on the question at issue. We have as much to do with this question as with any question that concerns the happiness of man, the glory of God, or the hopes and destinies of the human race. We have to do with this question, for it lies at the foundation of our own rights as a portion of the human family. The cause of liberty is one all over the world. What have you to do with this question? The slave is your brother, and you cannot dissolve that Union. While he remains God's child he will remain your brother. He is helpless, and you are free and powerful; and if you neglect him, you are not doing as you would have others do to you, were you in bonds. Know you not that it is God's method to save man by man, and that man is only great, and honorable, and blest himself, as he is the friend and defender of those who need his aid. You are dwellers on the same continent with three millions of slaves. Their sighs come to you with every breeze from the South. Oh, haste to help them, that this glorious continent may be freed from its pollution and its curse."

Extract from Barnes on slavery:

"Slavery pertains to a great wrong done to our common nature, and affects great questions, relating to the final triumph of the principles of justice and humanity. The race is one great brotherhood, and every man is under obligation, as far as he has the ability, to defend those principles which will permanently promote the welfare of the human family. * * * * The questions of right and wrong know no geographical limits; are bounded by no conventional lines; are circumscribed by the windings of no river or stream, and are not designated by climate or by the course of the sun. There are no enclosures within which the question of right and wrong may not be carried with the utmost freedom."

Other answers might be given, but these are quite sufficient.

The Fugitive Slave Bill: a Fragment.