I like radical measures, whether adopted by Abolitionists or
slaveholders. I do not know but I like them better when adopted by the
latter. Hence I look with pleasure upon the movements of Mr. Calhoun
and his party. I rejoice at any movement in the slave States with
reference to this system of Slavery. Any movement there will attract
attention to the system — a system, as Junius once said to Lord
Granby, "which can only pass without condemnation as it passes without
observation." I am anxious to have it seen of all men: hence I am
delighted to see any effort to prop up the system on the part of the
slaveholders. It serves to bring up the subject before the people; and
hasten the day of deliverance. It is meant otherwise. I am sorry that
it is so. Yet the wrath of man may be made to praise God. He will
confound the wisdom of the crafty, and bring to naught the counsels of
the ungodly. The slaveholders are now marshalling their hosts for the
propagation and extension of the institution — Abolitionists, on the
other hand, are marshalling their forces not only against its
propagation and extension, but against its very existence. Two large
classes of the community, hitherto unassociated with the
Abolitionists, have come up so far towards the right as to become
opposed to the farther extension of the crime. I am glad to hear it. I
like to gaze upon these two contending armies, for I believer it will
hasten the dissolution of the present unholy Union, which has been
justly stigmatized as "a covenant with death, an agreement with hell."
I welcome the bolt, either from the North or the South, which shall
shatter this Union; for under this Union lie the prostrate forms of
three millions with whom I am identified. In consideration of their
wrongs, of their sufferings, of their groans, I welcome this bolt,
either from the celestial or from the infernal regions, which shall
sever this union in twain. Slaveholders are promoting it —
Abolitionists are doing so. Let it come, and when it does, our land
will rise up from an incubus; her brightness shall reflect against the
sky, and shall become the beacon light of liberty in the Western
world. She shall then, indeed, become "the land of the free and the
home of the brave."
For sixteen years, Wm. Lloyd Garrison and a noble army of the friends
of emancipation have been labouring in season and out of season, amid
smiles and frowns, sunshine and clouds, striving to establish the
conviction through this land, that to hold and traffic in human flesh
is a sin against God. They have been somewhat successful; but they
have been in no wise so successful as they might have been, had the
men an women at the North rallied around them as they had a right to
hope from their profession. They have had to contend not only with
skillful politicians, with a deeply prejudiced and pro-slavery
community, but with eminent Divines, Doctors of Divinity, and
Bishops. Instead of encouraging them as friends, they have acted as
enemies. For many days did Garrison go the rounds of the city of
Boston to ask of the ministers for the poor privilege of entering
their chapels and lifting up his voice for the dumb. But their doors
were bolted, their gates barred, and their pulpits hermetically
sealed. It was not till an infidel hall was thrown open, that the
voice of dumb millions could be heard in Boston.
I take it that all who have heard at all on this subject, are well
convinced that the stronghold of Slavery is in the pulpit. Say what we
may of politicians and political parties, the power that holds the
keys of the dungeon in which the bondman is confined, is the
pulpit. It is that power which is dropping, dropping, constantly
dropping on the ear of this people, creating and moulding the moral
sentiment of the land. This they have sufficiently under their control
that they can change it from the spirit of hatred to that of to love
mankind. The men who wield the blood-clotted cow-skin come from our
Sabbath Schools in the Southern States. Who act as slave drivers? The
men who go forth from our own congregations here. Why, if the Gospel
were truly preached among us, a man would as soon think of going into
downright piracy as to offer himself as a slave-driver.
In Farmington, two sons of members of the Society of Friends are
coolly proposing to go the South and engage in the honourable office
of slave-driving for a thousand dollars a year. People at the North
talk coolly of uncles, cousins, and brothers who are slaveholders, and
of their coming to visit them. If the Gospel were truly preached here,
you would as soon talk of having an uncle or brother a brothel keeper
as a slaveholder; for I hold that every slaveholder, no matter how
pure he may be, is a keeper of a house of ill-fame. Every kitchen is a
brothel, from that of Dr. Fuller’s to that of James K. Polk’s
(Applause). I presume I am addressing a virtuous audience — I presume
I speak to virtuous females — and I ask you to consider this one
feature of Slavery. Think of a million of females absolutely delivered
up into the hands of persons in any way they see fit. And so entirely
are they at the disposal of their masters, that if they raise their
hands against them, they may be put to death for daring to resist
their infernal aggression.
We have been trying to make this thing appear sinful. We have not been
able to do so yet. It is not admitted, and I hardly know how to argue
against it. I confess that the time for the argument seems almost gone
by. What do the people want? Affirmation upon
affirmation,—denunciation upon denunciation,—rebuke upon rebuke? We
have men in this land now advising evangelical flogging. I hold in my
hand a sermon recently published by Rev. Bishop Meade, of
Virginia. Before I read that part in favour of evangelical flogging,
let me read a few extracts from another part, relating to the duties
of the slave. The sermon, by the way, was published with a view of its
being read by Christian masters to their slaves. White black birds!
(Laughter.)
(Mr. Douglass here assumed a most grotesque look, and with a canting
tone of voice, read as follows.)
"Having thus shown you the chief duties you owe to your great Master
in Heaven, I now come to lay before you the duties you owe to your
masters and mistresses on earth. And for this you have one general
rule that you ought always carry in your minds, and that is, to do all
services for them, as if you did it for God himself. Poor creatures!
you little consider when you are idle, and neglectful of your master’s
business; when you steal, waste, and hurt any of their substance; when
you are saucy and impudent; when you are telling them lies and
deceiving them; or when you prove stubborn and sullen, and will not do
the work you are set about, without stripes and vexation; you do not
consider, I say, that what faults you are guilty of towards your
masters and mistresses, are faults done against God himself, who hath
set your masters and mistresses over you in his own stead, and expects
that you will do for them just as you would do for him. And pray, do
not think that I want to deceive you, when I tell you that your
masters and mistresses are God’s overseers; and that if you are faulty
towards them, God himself will punish you severely for it."
This is some of the Southern religion. Do you not think you would
"grow in grace in the knowledge of the truth." (Applause.)
I come now to evangelical flogging. There is nothing said about
flogging—that word is not used. It is called correction; and that word
as it is understood at the North, is some sort of
medicine. (Laughter.) Slavery has always sought to hide itself under
different names. The mass of the people call it "our peculiar
institution." There is no harm in that. Others call it (they are the
more pious sort), "our Patriarchal institution." (Laughter.)
Politicians have called it "our social system"; and people in social
life have called it "our domestic institution." Abbot Lawrence has
recently discovered a new name for it—he calls it "unenlightened
labour" (Laughter.) The Methodists in their last General Conference,
have invented a new name— "the impediment." (Laughter.) To give you
some idea of evangelical flogging, under the name of correction, there
are laws of this description,— "any white man killing a slave shall be
punished as though he shall have killed a white person, unless such a
slave die under moderate correction." It commences with a plain
proposition.
"Now when correction is given to you, you either deserve it, or you do
not deserve it." (Laughter.)
That is very plain, almost as plain as that of a certain orator:—
"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is in my opinion, my deliberate opinion,
after along consideration of the whole matter, that as a general
thing, all other things being equal, that there are fewer people to be
found in towns sparsely populated, than in larger towns more thickly
settled." (Laughter.) The Bishop goes on to say—
"Whether you really deserve it or not," (one would think that would
make a difference, "it is your duty, and Almighty God requires that
you bear it patiently. You may perhaps think that it is a hard
doctrine," (and it admits of little doubt), "buy if you consider it
right you must needs think otherwise of it." (It is clear as mud. I
suppose he is now going to reason into them the propriety of being
flogged evangelically.) "Suppose you deserve correction; you cannot
but see that it is just an right you should meet wit h it. Suppose you
do not, or at least so much or so severe; you perhaps have escaped a
great many more, and are at last paid for all. Suppose you are quite
innocent; is it not possible you may have done some other bad thing
which was never discovered, and Almighty God would not let you escape
without punishment one time or another? Ought you not in such cases to
give glory to Him?" (Glory!) (Much laughter.)
I am glad you have got to the point that you can laugh at the religion
of such fellows as this Doctor. There is nothing that will facilitate
our cause more than getting the people to laugh at that religion which
brings its influence to support traffic in human flesh. It has
deceived us so long that it has overawed us. For a long time when I
was a slave, I was let to think from hearing such passages as
"servants obey, &c." that if I dared to escape, the wrath of God would
follow me. All are willing to acknowledge my right to be free; but
after this acknowledgement, the good man goes to the Bible and says
"after all I see some difficulty about this thing. You know, after the
deluge, there was Shem, Ham, and Japhet; and you know that Ham was
black and had a curse put upon him; and I know not but it would be an
attempt to thwart the purposes of Jehovah if these men were set at
liberty." It is this kind of religion I wish to have you laugh at—it
breaks the charm there is about it. If I could have the men at this
meeting who hold such sentiments and could hold up the mirror to let
them see themselves as others see them, we would soon make head
against this pro-slavery religion.
I dwell mostly upon the religious aspect, because I believe it is the
religious people who are to be relied on in this Anti-Slavery
movement. Do not misunderstand my railing—do not class me with those
who despise religion—do not identify me with the infidel. I love the
religion of Christianity—which cometh from above—which is pure,
peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of good fruits, and
without hypocrisy. I love that religion which sends its votaries to
bind up the wounds of those who have fallen among thieves. By all the
love I bear to such a Christianity as this, I hate that of the Priest
and Levite, that with long-faced Phariseeism goes up to Jerusalem and
worships, and leaves the bruised and wounded to die. I despise the
religion that can carry Bibles to the heathen on the other side of the
globe and withhold them from [the] heathen on this side—which can talk
about human rights yonder and traffic in human flesh here. I love that
which makes its votaries do to others as they would that others should
do to them. I hope to see a revival of it—thank God it is revived. I
see revivals in the absence of the other sort of revivals. I believe
it to be confessed now, that there has not been a sensible man
converted after the old sort of way in the last five years. Le Roy
Sunderland, the mesmerizer, has explained all this away, so that Knapp
and others who have converted men after that sort have failed.
There is another religion. It is that which takes off fetters instead
of binding them on—that which breaks every yoke—that lifts up the
bowed down. The Anti-Slavery platform is based on this kind of
religion. It spreads its table to the lame, the halt, and the
blind. It goes down after a long neglected race. It passes, link by
link till it finds the lowest link in humanity’s chain—humanity’s most
degraded form in the most abject position. It reaches down its arm and
tells them to stand up. This is Anti-Slavery—This is Christianity. It
is reviving gloriously among the various denominations. It is
threatening to supercede those old forms of religion having all of the
love of God and none of the man in it. (Applause.)
I now leave this aspect of the subject and proceed to inquire into
that which probably must be the inquiry of every honest mind
present. I trust I do not misjudge the character of m audience when I
say they are anxious to know in every way they’re contributing to
uphold Slavery.
The question may be answered in various ways. I leave the outworks of
political parties and social arrangements, and come at once to the
Constitution which I believe all present are devotedly attached—I will
not say all, for I believe I know some, who, however they may be
disposed to admire some of the beautiful truths set forth in that
instrument, recognize its pro-slavery features, and are ready to form
a republic in which there shall be neither tyrant or slave. The
Constitution I hold to be radically and essentially slave-holding, in
that it gives the physical and numeric power of the nation to keep the
slave in his chains, by promising that the power shall in any
emergency be brought to bear upon the slave, to crush him in obedience
to his master. The language of the constitution is you shall be a
slave or die. We know it is such, and knowing it we are not disposed
to have part nor lot with that Constitution. For my part I had rather
that my right hand should wither by my side than cast a ballot under
the Constitution of the United States. Then, again, in the clause
concerning fugitives—in this case you are implicated. Your country is
one vast hunting ground from Texas to main.
Ours is a glorious land; and from across the Atlantic we welcome those
who are stricken by the storms of despotism. Yet the damning facts
remain, there is not a rood of earth under the stars and the eagle of
your flag, where a man of my complexion can stand fre. There is no
mountain so high, no plain so extensive, no spot so sacred, that it
can secure to me the right of liberty. Wherever waves the
star-spangled banner there the bondman may be arrested and hurried
back to the jaws of Slavery. This is your "land of the free," your
"home of the brave." From Lexington, from Ticonderoga, from Bunker
Hill, where rises that grand shaft with its capstone in the clouds,
asks in the name of the first blood that spurted in behalf of freedom,
to protect the slave from the infernal clutches of his master. That
petition would be denied and he bid to go back to the tyrant.
I never knew what freedom was till I got beyond the limits of the
American eagle. When I first rested my head on a British Island I felt
that the eagle might scream, but from its talons and beak I was free,
at least for a time. No slave-holder can clutch me on British
soil. There I could gaze the tyrant in the face and with the
indignation of a tyrant in my look, wither him before me. But
republican, Christian America will bid the tyrant in catching his
victim.
I know this kind of talk is not agreeable to what are called
patriots. Indeed, some have called me a traitor. That profanely
religious Journal "The Olive Branch," edited by the Rev. Mr. Norris,
recommended that I be hung as a traitor. Two things are necessary to
make a traitor. One is, he shall have a country. (Laughter and
applause.) I believe that if I had a country I should be a patriot. I
think I have all the feelings necessary—all the moral material, to say
nothing about the intellectual. I do not know that I ever felt the
emotion, but sometimes thought I had a glimpse of it. When I have been
delighted with the little brook that passes by the cottage in which I
was born,—with the woods and the fertile fields, I felt a great sort
of glow which I suspect resembles a little what they call
patriotism. I can look with some admiration on your wide lakes, your
fertile fields, your enterprise, your industry, and your many lovely
institutions. I can read with pleasure your Constitution to establish
justice, and secure the blessings of liberty to posterity. Those are
precious sayings to my mind. But when I remember the blood of four
sisters and one brother, is making fat the soil of Maryland and
Virginia,—when I remember that an aged grandmother who has reared
twelve children for the Southern market, and these one after another
as they arrived at the most interesting age, were torn from her
bosom,—when I remember that she became to much racked for toil, she
was turned out by a professed Christian master to grope her way in the
darkness of old age, literally to die with none to help her, and the
institutions of this country sanctioning and sanctifying this crime, I
have no words of eulogy, I have no patriotism. How can I love a
country where the blood of my own blood, flesh of my own flesh is now
toiling under the lash?—America’s soil reddened by the stain from
woman’s shrinking flesh.
No, I make no pretension to patriotism. So long as my voice can be
heard on this or the other side of the Atlantic, I will hold up
America to the lightning scorn of moral indignation. In doing this, I
shall feel myself discharging the duty of a true patriot; for he is a
lover of his country who rebukes and does not excuse its sins. It is
righteousness that exalteth a nation while sin is a reproach to any
people.
But to the idea of what you at the North have to do with Slavery. You
furnish the bulwark of protection, and promise to put the slaves in
bondage. As the American Anti-Slavery Society says, If you will go on
branding, scourging, sundering family ties, trampling in the dust your
down trodden victims, you must do it at your own peril." But if you
say, "we of the North will render you no assistance: if you still
continue to trample on the slave, you must take the consequences," I
tell you the matter will soon be settled.
I have been taunted frequently with the want of valour: so has my
race, because we have not risen upon our masters. It is adding insult
to injury to say this. You belong to 17,000,000, with arms, with means
of locomotion, with telegraphs. We are kept in ignorance three
millions to seventeen. You taunt us with not being able to rescue
ourselves from your clutch. Shame on you! Stand aside—give us fair
play—leave us with the tyrants, and then if we do not take care of
ourselves, you may taunt us. I do not men by this to advocate war and
bloodshed. I am not a man of war. The time was when I was. I was then
a slave: I had dreams, horrid dreams of freedom through a sea of
blood. But when I heard of the Anti-Slavery movement, light broke in
my dark mind. Bloody visions fled away, and I saw the star of liberty
peering above the horizon. Hope then took the place of desperation,
and I was led to repose in the arms of Slavery. I said, I would suffer
rather than do any act of violence—rather than that the glorious day
of liberty might be postponed.
Since the light of God’s truth beamed upon my mind, I have become a
friend of that religion which teaches us so pray for our
enemies—which, instead of shooting balls into their hearts, loves
them. I would not hurt a hair on a slaveholder’s head. I will tell you
what else I would not do. I would not stand around the slave with my
bayonet pointed at his breast in order to keep him in the power of the
slaveholder.
I am aware that there are many who think the slaves are very well off,
and that they are very well treated, as if it were possible that such
a thing could be, A man happy in chains! Even the eagle loves liberty.
Go, let a cage, with the grates of gold.
And pearly roof, the eagles hold;
Let dainty viands be his fare,
And give the captive tenderest care;
But say, in luxury’s limits pent,
Find you the king of the birds content?
No, oft he’ll sound the startling shriek,
And dash the grates with an angry beak.
Precarious freedom’s far more dear,
Than all the prison’s pampering cheer!
He longs to see his eyrie’s seat,
Some cliff on ocean’s lonely shore,
Whose old bare top the tempests beat,
And round whose base the billows roar,
When tossed by gales, they yawn like graves,—
He longs for joy to skim the waves;
Or rise through tempest-shrouded air,
And thick and dark, with wild winds swelling,
To brave the lightning’s lurid glare,
And talk with thunders in their dwelling.
As with the eagle, so with man. Mo amount of attention of finery, no
dainty dishes can be a substitute for liberty. Slaveholders know this,
and knowing it they exclaim,—"The South are surrounded by a dangerous
population, degraded, stupid savages, and if they could but entertain
the idea that immediate, unconditional death would not be their
portion, they would rise at once and enact the St. Domingo
tragedy. But they are held in their subordination by the consciousness
that the whole nation would rise and crush them." Thus they live in
constant dread from day to day.
Friends, Slavery must be abolished, and that can only be done by
enforcing the great principles of justice. Vainly you talk about
voting it down. When you have cast your millions of ballots, you have
not reached the evil. It has fastened its root deep into the heart of
the nation, and nothing but God’s truth and love can cleanse the
land. We must change the moral sentiment. Hence we ask you to support
the Anti-Slavery Society. It is not an organization to build up
political parties, or churches, nor to pull them down, but to stamp
the image of Anti-Slavery truth upon the community. Here we may all do
something.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb driven cattle—
Be a hero in the strife.
