Oh, where’s the slave so lowly
Condemn’d to chains unholy,
Who could he burst
His bonds at first
Would pine beneath them slowly?
_Moore._
----Know ye not
Who would be free, _themselves_ must strike the blow.
_Childe Harold._
What a world of inconsistency, as well as of wickedness, is suggested
by the smooth and gliding phrase, AMERICAN SLAVE TRADE; and how strange
and perverse is that moral sentiment which loathes, execrates, and
brands as piracy and as deserving of death the carrying away into
captivity men, women, and children from the _African coast_; but which
is neither shocked nor disturbed by a similar traffic, carried on
with the same motives and purposes, and characterized by even _more_
odious peculiarities on the coast of our MODEL REPUBLIC. We execrate
and hang the wretch guilty of this crime on the coast of Guinea, while
we respect and applaud the guilty participators in this murderous
business on the enlightened shores of the Chesapeake. The inconsistency
is so flagrant and glaring, that it would seem to cast a doubt on the
doctrine of the innate moral sense of mankind.
Just two months after the sailing of the Virginia slave brig, which the
reader has seen move off to sea so proudly with her human cargo for the
New Orleans market, there chanced to meet, in the Marine Coffee-house
at Richmond, a company of _ocean birds_, when the following
conversation, which throws some light on the subsequent history, not
only of Madison Washington, but of the hundred and thirty human beings
with whom we last saw him chained.
“I say, shipmate, you had rather rough weather on your late passage
to Orleans?” said Jack Williams, a regular old salt, tauntingly, to a
trim, compact, manly looking person, who proved to be the first mate of
the slave brig in question.
“Foul play, as well as foul weather,” replied the firmly knit
personage, evidently but little inclined to enter upon a subject which
terminated so ingloriously to the captain and officers of the American
slaver.
“Well, betwixt you and me,” said Williams, “that whole affair on board
of the Creole was miserably and disgracefully managed. Those black
rascals got the upper hand of ye altogether; and, in my opinion, the
whole disaster was the result of ignorance of the real character of
_darkies_ in general. With half a dozen _resolute_ white men, (I say it
not boastingly,) I could have had the rascals in irons in ten minutes,
not because I’m so strong, but I know how to manage ’em. With my back
against the _caboose_, I could, myself, have flogged a dozen of them;
and had I been on board, by every monster of the deep, every black
devil of ’em all would have had his neck stretched from the yard-arm.
Ye made a mistake in yer manner of fighting ’em. All that is needed in
dealing with a set of rebellious _darkies_, is to show that yer not
afraid of ’em. For my own part, I would not honor a dozen niggers by
pointing a gun at one on ’em,--a good stout whip, or a stiff rope’s
end, is better than all the guns at Old Point to quell a _nigger_
insurrection. Why, sir, to take a gun to a _nigger_ is the best way
you can select to tell him you are afraid of him, and the best way of
inviting his attack.”
This speech made quite a sensation among the company, and a part of
them indicated solicitude for the answer which might be made to it.
Our first mate replied, “Mr. Williams, all that you’ve now said
sounds very well _here_ on shore, where, perhaps, you have studied
negro character. I do not profess to understand the subject as well
as yourself; but it strikes me, you apply the same rule in dissimilar
cases. It is quite easy to talk of flogging niggers here on land, where
you have the sympathy of the community, and the whole physical force
of the government, State and national, at your command; and where, if
a negro shall lift his hand against a white man, the whole community,
with one accord, are ready to unite in shooting him down. I say, in
such circumstances, it’s easy to talk of flogging negroes and of negro
cowardice; but, sir, I deny that the negro is, naturally, a coward,
or that your theory of managing slaves will stand the test of _salt_
water. It may do very well for an overseer, a contemptible hireling, to
take advantage of fears already in existence, and which his presence
has no power to inspire; to swagger about whip in hand, and discourse
on the timidity and cowardice of negroes; for they have a smooth sea
and a fair wind. It is one thing to manage a company of slaves on a
Virginia plantation, and quite another thing to quell an insurrection
on the lonely billows of the Atlantic, where every breeze speaks of
courage and liberty. For the negro to act cowardly on shore, may be to
act wisely; and I’ve some doubts whether _you_, Mr. Williams, would
find it very convenient were you a slave in Algiers, to raise your hand
against the bayonets of a whole government.”
“By George, shipmate,” said Williams, “you’re coming rather _too_
near. Either I’ve fallen very low in your estimation, or your notions
of negro courage have got up a button-hole too high. Now I more than
ever wish I’d been on board of that luckless craft. I’d have given ye
practical evidence of the truth of my theory. I don’t doubt there’s
some difference in being at sea. But a nigger’s a nigger, on sea or
land; and is a coward, find him where you will; a drop of blood from
one on ’em will skeer a hundred. A knock on the nose, or a kick on
the shin, will tame the wildest ‘_darkey_’ you can fetch me. I say
again, and will stand by it, I could, with half a dozen good men, put
the whole nineteen on ’em in irons, and have carried them safe to New
Orleans too. Mind, I don’t blame you, but I do say, and every gentleman
here will bear me out in it, that the fault was somewhere, or them
niggers would never have got off as they have done. For my part I feel
ashamed to have the idea go abroad, that a ship load of slaves can’t
be safely taken from Richmond to New Orleans. I should like, merely to
redeem the character of Virginia sailors, to take charge of a ship load
on ’em to-morrow.”
Williams went on in this strain, occasionally casting an imploring
glance at the company for applause for his wit, and sympathy for his
contempt of negro courage. He had, evidently, however, waked up the
wrong passenger; for besides being in the right, his opponent carried
that in his eye which marked him a man not to be trifled with.
“Well, sir,” said the sturdy mate, “you can select your own method
for distinguishing yourself;--the path of ambition in this direction
is quite open to you in Virginia, and I’ve no doubt that you will be
highly appreciated and compensated for all your valiant achievements in
that line; but for myself, while I do not profess to be a giant, I have
resolved never to set my foot on the deck of a slave ship, either as
officer, or common sailor again; I have got enough of it.”
“Indeed! indeed!” exclaimed Williams, derisively.
“Yes, _indeed_,” echoed the mate; “but don’t misunderstand me. It is
not the high value that I set upon my life that makes me say what I
have said; yet I’m resolved never to endanger my life again in a cause
which my conscience does not approve. I dare say _here_ what many men
_feel_, but _dare not speak_, that this whole slave-trading business is
a disgrace and scandal to Old Virginia.”
“Hold! hold on! shipmate,” said Williams, “I hardly thought you’d have
shown your colors so soon,--I’ll be hanged if you’re not as good an
abolitionist as Garrison himself.”
The mate now rose from his chair, manifesting some excitement. “What do
you mean, sir,” said he, in a commanding tone. “_That man does not live
who shall offer me an insult with impunity._”
The effect of these words was marked; and the company clustered around.
Williams, in an apologetic tone, said, “Shipmate! keep your temper. I
mean’t no insult. We all know that Tom Grant is no coward, and what I
said about your being an abolitionist was simply this: you _might_ have
put down them black mutineers and murderers, but your conscience held
you back.”
“In that, too,” said Grant, “you were mistaken. I did all that any man
with equal strength and presence of mind could have done. The fact is,
Mr. Williams, you underrate the courage as well as the skill of these
negroes, and further, you do not seem to have been correctly informed
about the case in hand at all.”
“All I know about it is,” said Williams, “that on the ninth day after
you left Richmond, a dozen or two of the niggers ye had on board, came
on deck and took the ship from you;--had her steered into a British
port, where, by the by, every woolly head of them went ashore and was
free. Now I take this to be a discreditable piece of business, and one
demanding explanation.”
“There are a great many discreditable things in the world,” said Grant.
“For a ship to go down under a calm sky is, upon the first flush of
it, disgraceful either to sailors or caulkers. But when we learn, that
by some mysterious disturbance in nature, the waters parted beneath,
and swallowed the ship up, we lose our indignation and disgust in
lamentation of the disaster, and in awe of the Power which controls the
elements.”
“Very true, very true,” said Williams, “I should be very glad to
have an explanation which would relieve the affair of its present
discreditable features. I have desired to see you ever since you got
home, and to learn from you a full statement of the facts in the case.
To me the whole thing seems unaccountable. I cannot see how a dozen or
two of ignorant negroes, not one of whom had ever been to sea before,
and all of them were closely ironed between decks, should be able to
get their fetters off, rush out of the hatchway in open daylight, kill
two white men, the one the captain and the other their master, and then
carry the ship into a British port, where every ‘_darkey_’ of them
was set free. There must have been great carelessness, or cowardice
somewhere!”
The company which had listened in silence during most of this
discussion, now became much excited. One said, I agree with Williams;
and several said the thing looks black enough. After the temporary
tumultous exclamations had subsided,--
“I see,” said Grant, “how you regard this case, and how difficult it
will be for me to render our ship’s company blameless in your eyes.
Nevertheless, I will state the fact precisely as they came under my
own observation. Mr. Williams speaks of ‘ignorant negroes,’ and, as a
general rule, they are ignorant; but had he been on board the _Creole_
as I was, he would have seen cause to admit that there are exceptions
to this general rule. The leader of the mutiny in question was just as
shrewd a fellow as ever I met in my life, and was as well fitted to
lead in a dangerous enterprise as any one white man in ten thousand.
The name of this man, strange to say, (ominous of greatness,) was
MADISON WASHINGTON. In the short time he had been on board, he had
secured the confidence of every officer. The negroes fairly worshipped
him. His manner and bearing were such, that no one could suspect him
of a murderous purpose. The only feeling with which we regarded him
was, that he was a powerful, good-disposed negro. He seldom spake to
any one, and when he did speak, it was with the utmost propriety. His
words were well chosen, and his pronunciation equal to that of any
schoolmaster. It was a mystery to us _where_ he got his knowledge of
language; but as little was said to him, none of us knew the extent of
his intelligence and ability till it was too late. It seems he brought
three files with him on board, and must have gone to work upon his
fetters the first night out; and he must have worked well at that;
for on the day of the rising, he got the irons _off eighteen_ besides
himself.
“The attack began just about twilight in the evening. Apprehending a
squall, I had commanded the second mate to order all hands on deck,
to take in sail. A few minutes before this I had seen Madison’s head
above the hatchway, looking out upon the white-capped waves at the
leeward. I think I never saw him look more good-natured. I stood
just about midship, on the larboard side. The captain was pacing the
quarter-deck on the starboard side, in company with Mr. Jameson, the
owner of most of the slaves on board. Both were armed. I had just told
the men to lay aloft, and was looking to see my orders obeyed, when
I heard the discharge of a pistol on the starboard side; and turning
suddenly around, the very deck seemed covered with fiends from the
pit. The nineteen negroes were all on deck, with their broken fetters
in their hands, rushing in all directions. I put my hand quickly in
my pocket to draw out my jack-knife; but before I could draw it, I was
knocked senseless to the deck. When I came to myself, (which I did in
a few minutes, I suppose, for it was yet quite light,) there was not
a white man on deck. The sailors were all aloft in the rigging, and
dared not come down. Captain Clarke and Mr. Jameson lay stretched on
the quarter-deck,--both dying,--while Madison himself stood at the helm
unhurt.
“I was completely weakened by the loss of blood, and had not recovered
from the stunning blow which felled me to the deck; but it was a little
too much for me, even in my prostrate condition, to see our good brig
commanded by a _black murderer_. So I called out to the men to come
down and take the ship, or die in the attempt. Suiting the action to
the word, I started aft. You murderous villain, said I, to the imp at
the helm, and rushed upon him to deal him a blow, when he pushed me
back with his strong, black arm, as though I had been a boy of twelve.
I looked around for the men. They were still in the rigging. Not one
had come down. I started towards Madison again. The rascal now told me
to stand back. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘your life is in my hands. I could have
killed you a dozen times over during this last half hour, and could
kill you now. You call me a _black murderer_. I am not a murderer.
God is my witness that LIBERTY, not _malice_, is the motive for this
night’s work. I have done no more to those dead men yonder, than they
would have done to me in like circumstances. We have struck for our
freedom, and if a true man’s heart be in you, you will honor us for the
deed. We have done that which you applaud your fathers for doing, and
if we are murderers, _so were they_.’
“I felt little disposition to reply to this impudent speech. By heaven,
it disarmed me. The fellow loomed up before me. I forgot his blackness
in the dignity of his manner, and the eloquence of his speech. It
seemed as if the souls of both the great dead (whose names he bore) had
entered him. To the sailors in the rigging he said: ‘Men! the battle is
over,--your captain is dead. I have complete command of this vessel.
All resistance to my authority will be in vain. My men have won their
liberty, with no other weapons but their own BROKEN FETTERS. We are
nineteen in number. We do not thirst for your blood, we demand only our
rightful freedom. Do not flatter yourselves that I am ignorant of chart
or compass. I know both. We are now only about sixty miles from Nassau.
Come down, and do your duty. Land us in Nassau, and not a hair of your
heads shall be hurt.’
“I shouted, _Stay where you are, men_,--when a sturdy black fellow ran
at me with a handspike, and would have split my head open, but for the
interference of Madison, who darted between me and the blow. ‘I know
what you are up to,’ said the latter to me. ‘You want to navigate this
brig into a slave port, where you would have us all hanged; but you’ll
miss it; before this brig shall touch a slave-cursed shore while I am
on board, I will myself put a match to the magazine, and blow her,
and be blown with her, into a thousand fragments. Now I have saved
your life twice within these last twenty minutes,--for, when you lay
helpless on deck, my men were about to kill you. I held them in check.
And if you now (seeing I am your friend and not your enemy) persist in
your resistance to my authority, I give you fair warning, YOU SHALL
DIE.’
“Saying this to me, he cast a glance into the rigging where the
terror-stricken sailors were clinging, like so many frightened monkeys,
and commanded them to come down, in a tone from which there was no
appeal; for four men stood by with muskets in hand, ready at the word
of command to shoot them down.
“I now became satisfied that resistance was out of the question;
that my best policy was to put the brig into Nassau, and secure the
assistance of the American consul at that port. I felt sure that the
authorities would enable us to secure the murderers, and bring them to
trial.
“By this time the apprehended squall had burst upon us. The wind howled
furiously,--the ocean was white with foam, which, on account of the
darkness, we could see only by the quick flashes of lightning that
darted occasionally from the angry sky. All was alarm and confusion.
Hideous cries came up from the slave women. Above the roaring billows
a succession of heavy thunder rolled along, swelling the terrific din.
Owing to the great darkness, and a sudden shift of the wind, we found
ourselves in the trough of the sea. When shipping a heavy sea over the
starboard bow, the bodies of the captain and Mr. Jameson were washed
overboard. For awhile we had dearer interests to look after than slave
property. A more savage thunder-gust never swept the ocean. Our brig
rolled and creaked as if every bolt would be started, and every thread
of oakum would be pressed out of the seams. To the pumps! to the pumps!
I cried, but not a sailor would quit his grasp. Fortunately this squall
soon passed over, or we must have been food for sharks.
“During all the storm, Madison stood firmly at the helm,--his keen
eye fixed upon the binnacle. He was not indifferent to the dreadful
hurricane; yet he met it with the equanimity of an old sailor. He was
silent but not agitated. The first words he uttered after the storm
had slightly subsided, were characteristic of the man. ‘Mr. mate, you
cannot write the bloody laws of slavery on those restless billows. The
ocean, if not the land, is free.’ I confess, gentlemen, I felt myself
in the presence of a superior man; one who, had he been a white man, I
would have followed willingly and gladly in any honorable enterprise.
Our difference of color was the only ground for difference of action.
It was not that his principles were wrong in the abstract; for they are
the principles of 1776. But I could not bring myself to recognize their
application to one whom I deemed my inferior.
“But to my story. What happened now is soon told. Two hours after
the frightful tempest had spent itself, we were plump at the wharf
in Nassau. I sent two of our men immediately to our consul with a
statement of facts, requesting his interference in our behalf. What
he did, or whither he did anything, I don’t know; but, by order of
the authorities, a company of _black_ soldiers came on board, for the
purpose, as they said, of protecting the property. These impudent
rascals, when I called on them to assist me in keeping the slaves on
board, sheltered themselves adroitly under their instructions only
to protect property,--and said they did not recognize _persons_ as
_property_. I told them that by the laws of Virginia and the laws of
the United States, the slaves on board were as much property as the
barrels of flour in the hold. At this the stupid blockheads showed
their _ivory_, rolled up their white eyes in horror, as if the idea
of putting men on a footing with merchandise were revolting to their
humanity. When these instructions were understood among the negroes, it
was impossible for us to keep them on board. They deliberately gathered
up their baggage before our eyes, and, against our remonstrances,
poured through the gangway,--formed themselves into a procession on the
wharf,--bid farewell to all on board, and, uttering the wildest shouts
of exultation, they marched, amidst the deafening cheers of a multitude
of sympathizing spectators, under the triumphant leadership of their
heroic chief and deliverer, MADISON WASHINGTON.”
Frederick Douglass.
A PLEA FOR FREE SPEECH.
Give me leave to speak my mind.
_As You Like It._
The clamorous demand which certain patriotic gentlemen are just now
making for perfect silence on the slavery question, strikes a quiet
looker-on as something very odd. It might pass for a dull sort of
joke, were it not that the means taken to enforce it, by vexatious
prosecutions, political and social proscriptions, and newspaper
assaults on private reputation, are beginning, in certain quarters, to
assume a decidedly tragic aspect, and forcing upon all anti-slavery men
the alternative of peremptorily refusing compliance, or standing meanly
by to see others crushed for advocating _their_ opinions.
The question has been extensively, and I think very naturally raised,
why these anti-agitation gentlemen do not keep silent themselves. For,
strange as it may seem, this perilous topic is the very one which most
of all appears to occupy their thoughts too, and is ever uppermost
when they undertake to speak of the affairs of the country. They are
in the predicament of the poor man in the Eastern fable, who, being
forbidden on pain of the genie’s wrath to utter a certain cabalistic
syllable, found, to his horror, that he could never after open his lips
without their beginning perversely to frame the tabooed articulation.
But not, as in his case, does fear chain up their organs. They speak it
boldly out, proclaim it “the corner-stone” of their political creed,
and do their best in every way, by speeches and articles, Union-safety
pamphlets and National Convention platforms, to “keep it before the
people.” And the object always is, to keep the people quiet! Surely,
if the Union is _not_ strong enough to bear agitations, the special
friends of the Union have chosen a singular way to save it.
I would by no means infer, that they are _altogether_ insecure in
their professions of anxiety. The truth appears to be, however, that
in so far as these professions are not a sheer pretence, got up by
political men for political effect, our estimable fellow citizens have,
all unwittingly, been obeying a higher law than that which they would
impose on their neighbors,--a law, written in the very nature of the
free soul. On this, the subject of the age, they must think, and cannot
refrain from uttering their thoughts. “They believe, and _therefore_
have they spoken.” And it is a sufficient reply to their unanswerable
demand for silence on the other side. “We _also_ believe, and therefore
speak.” Pray, why not?
A certain ardent conservative friend of mine, to whom I once proposed
this inquiry, made a short answer to it after this fashion:--“The
abolitionists are all fools and fanatics. Whenever the idea of
anti-slavery gets hold of a man, he takes leave of his common sense,
and is thenceforth as one possessed. I would put a padlock on every
such crazy fellow’s mouth.” My friend’s rule, it will be seen, is a
very broad one; stopping the mouths of all who speak foolishly. Who
will undertake to see it fairly applied? or who could feel quite free
from nervousness in view of its possible operation? Under an infallible
administration, I apprehend, many--some, perhaps, even of the most
strenuous advocates of the law--might find themselves uncomfortably
implicated, who at present hardly suspect the danger. “By’rlakin, a
parlous fear! my masters, you ought to consider with yourselves!”
I am constrained to confess, that in the very midst of my friend’s
aforesaid patriotic diatribe against folly and fanaticism, and his plea
for a summary fool-act, I could not keep out of my mind some wicked
recollections of Horace’s lines:
_Communi sensu plane caret_, inquimus. Eheu!
Quam temere in _nosmet_ legem sancimus iniquam!
It must in all candor be confessed, that there is something in the
subject of slavery which, when fairly looked at and realized, is a
little trying to one’s sanity. Even such intellects as John Wesley’s
and Thomas Jefferson’s, seem to stagger a little under a view of the
appalling sum of iniquity and wretchedness which the word represents,
and vent their excitement in terms not particularly measured. What
wonder, then, if men of simpler minds should now and then be thrown
quite off the balance, and think and say some things that are really
unwise. I think, indeed, it will have to be confessed, that we have
had fools and fanatics on both sides of the slavery question; and it
is altogether among the probabilities, that such will continue to be
the case hereafter. Still, until we have some infallible criterion to
distinguish actual folly from that which foolish people merely think
such, I fancy we must forego the convenience of my friend’s summary
process, and, giving leave to every man to speak his mind, leave it
to Time--great sifter of men and opinions--to separate between the
precious and the vile.
It may be the kindness bred of a fellow feeling, but I must confess
to a warm side towards my brethren of the motley tribe. While on the
one hand I firmly hold with Elihu--who seems to have represented young
Uz among the friends of Job--that “great men are not always wise.” I
rejoice on the other hand in the concession of Polonius,--chief old
Fogy of the court of Denmark,--that there is “a happiness which madness
often hits on, that reason and sanity could not so prosperously be
delivered of.” Folly and craziness, quotha! Did it, then, never occur
to you, O Worldly Wiseman, that even your wisdom might be bettered by a
dash of that which you thus contemptuously brand? Or does the apostle
seem to you as one that driveleth, when he says, “If any man among you
seemeth to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be
wise?”
I have often admired the sagacity of our mediaeval forefathers, in
the treatment of their (so called) fools. They gave them a _special
license_ of the tongue; for they justly estimated the advantages which
the truly wise know how to draw from the untrammelled utterances of any
honest mind, especially of minds which, refusing to run tamely in the
oiled grooves of prescriptive and fashionable orthodoxy, are the more
likely, now and then, (were it only by accident,) to hit upon truths
of which others miss. Hence they maintained an “Independent Order” of
the motley, whose only business it was freely to think and freely speak
their minds. “I must have liberty withal,” says Jaques, aspiring to
this dignity.
--“as free a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please: for _so fools have_.”
And he adds, in a strain of admonition which certain contemporaneous
events might almost lead one to consider prophetic,
----“they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
The _why_ is plain as way to parish church.
He that a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob. If not,
The wise man’s folly is anatomised
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
* * What then? Let me see wherein
My speech hath wronged him. If it do him right,
Then he hath wronged himself; if he be free,
Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies,
Unclaimed of any man.”
Now if there be “fools of the nineteenth century,” as I devoutly hope
there be,--men possessed with the belief of a Higher Law, Inalienable
Rights, Supremacy of Conscience, and such like obsolete phantoms, and
passing strange judgments on the deeds of men and nations in the light
thereof,--I beg to put in a similar plea for them. _Give them leave
to speak their minds._ Now and then, it may be worth the pondering,
and, heeded betimes, may peradventure save from calamity and ruin. If
not, an attempt to _enforce_ silence on fools--and is it not much the
same with freemen?--is likely to produce, not silence at all, but a
greater outcry. And as for our great men and wise men, when hit, let
them conceal the smart, and profit by the lesson. But, for their own
greatness’ sake, and the honor of their wisdom, whither hit or not, let
them never fall into a passion at the freedom of men’s speech, and cry,
_This must be put down_. For it will not down at their bidding.
But the subject refuses to be treated lightly. The vast interests at
stake on both sides, and the immediate urgency of the crisis, compel
the mind to sobriety and solicitude in the contemplation of it. No
truly wise man will look upon the anti-slavery doctrine as mere folly,
or on the promulgation of it as idle breath. It is the measureless
power of that sentiment--and all its power lies in its truth--that
wakens this alarm; and it is the consciousness of holding such a weapon
in their hands, that makes the anti-slavery masses at the North pause,
lest in attempting to use it for good, they should, unwittingly, do
harm. For such a sentiment, who can fail to feel respect? Who would
not despise himself if his own bosom were destitute of it? But, by as
much as I respect it in others, and would cherish it in myself, by
so much will I resent all playing upon it by political men for party
or personal ends, and fear lest it betray me into pusillanimity and
inertness where the times demand action for humanity and God. It _is_ a
serious question for all honest anti-slavery men throughout the land,
in what way they can most wisely and hopefully quit them of their
responsibility in relation to this thing. Their action as citizens
should, unquestionably, be restricted by the just limits of their civil
responsibility; as men by those of their moral responsibility. Even
within those limits, they should act with a wise moderation, and in a
generous spirit of candor and kindness. But one thing is abundantly
certain, that by ignoring the responsibility, they do not get rid of
it; by turning their backs on the obligation, they will not get it
discharged. Still the terrible _fact_ remains. _Still, the tears and
blood of the enslaved are daily dropping on our country’s soil._ Throw
over it what veil of extenuation and excuse you may, the essential
crime and shame remains. Believe as kindly as you can of the treatment
which the slaves receive of humane and christian masters; it is only
on condition that they first surrender their every _right_ as men. Let
them dare demur to that, and their tears and blood must answer it. That
is the terrible fact; and _our country_ is the abettor, the protector,
and the agent of the iniquity. Must we be indifferent? _May_ we be
indifferent? It is a question of tremendous import to every freeman in
the land, who honestly believes that the rights he claims as a man are
common to the race.
We used to be told, and are sometimes still, that this is a matter
which belongs to our Southern brethren exclusively, and that when we of
the free States interfere with it, we meddle with that which is “none
of our business.” And there was a time, when this might be urged with a
show of consistency. It was when slavery claimed only to be a creature
of State legislation, and asked only of the national government and the
free States to be let alone. Even then, it had no right of exemption
from the rational scrutiny to which all human institutions are
amenable, nor from the rebuke and denouncement which all men may, in
Heaven’s name, utter against all iniquity done in the face of Heaven.
But the _special_ right of republican citizens to demand the correction
of wrongs done by _their own_ government, attached in the matter of
slavery only to the citizens of the slave States.
But a wonderful change has been passing before our eyes. The attitude
of slavery is entirely altered. It now claims to be nationalized. It
demands a distinct recognition and active protection from the general
government, and indirect, but most effectual support from every
State in the Union, and from every citizen thereof! The government
has acknowledged the validity of the claim; and our great political
leaders--some on whom we have been wont to rely as stalwart champions
of freedom--have turned short round in their tracks, and require us to
believe that we are _under constitutional obligations_ to help maintain
the accursed thing,--yea, through all future time, to do its most
menial work! Nor is the doctrine to be left in the dubious region of
speculation. It is already “a fixed fact,” terribly embodied in a penal
law. It enters the home of every Northern freeman, and announces in
thunder-tones this ancestral obligation, which had so strangely faded
from the recollections of men. It tolerates no dulness of apprehension,
no hesitancy of belief. It bids us all, on pain of imprisonments and
fines, to conquer our prejudices, to swallow our scruples, to be still
with our nonsensical humanities, and, “as good citizens,” to start out
at the whistle of a United States’ constable, to chase down miserable
negroes fleeing from the hell of bondage!
Slavery, then, has become _our_ business at last; and, as such, does
it not behoove us to attend to it? I think, in the language of honest
Dogberry, that “that is proved already, and will go near to be thought
so shortly.” The thing lies in a nutshell. Millard Fillmore is not
our master, but our servant. It is not his to prescribe duties, but
ours; and his, to perform them. What he does, in his own person and
by his subordinate executive officers, he does for us, and on our
responsibility. What he does or they do, in other words, we do; and we
must abide the reckoning. In this responsibility, the humblest citizen
bears his share, and cannot shirk it if he would. When, then, I see the
ministers of my country’s law consigning men with flesh and blood like
my own, with homes and business, with wives and children,
As dear to them, as are the ruddy drops
That visit their sad hearts,
men unaccused of crime, and eating the daily bread of honest
labor--consigning them, I say, and their posterity to hopeless
vassalage, and degrading chattelhood, by a process, too, which tramples
under foot the most ancient and sacred guarantees of my own and my
neighbors’ rights. When I see this great nation lay its terrible
grasp upon the throat of a feeble, unoffending man, and thrust him
back to worse than a felon’s fate for doing that which no casuistry
can torture into a crime, I am compelled to feel that _it is myself_
engaged in this atrocious business; and no one but myself can rid me
of the responsibility. I can no longer be silent; I dare no longer be
silent; I will no longer be silent. I will remonstrate and cry, shame!
I will refuse to obey the law; I will demand to be released, and to
have my country released, from its odious requirements. I will vote,
and influence voters, and use every prerogative of freedom, to throw at
least from off my conscience a burden that it cannot bear. And who that
is worthy to be free himself, will blame me? To speak is no longer a
mere right; it has become a religious duty.
Let no man tell me, that this law is a mere dead letter. The old
Fugitive Law had, indeed, become so; and so would any other be likely
to become, which, while grasping after the slave, should pay a decent
respect to the rights of the free. But slavery cannot subsist on any
such condition; and this law was framed to supply the deficiencies
of the old law, and _to accomplish the thing_. It is based on the
assumption that the government of the United States is bound to effect
the rendition of fugitives, if possible at all, _at whatever cost_.
And, if this law is insufficient, the assumption is equally good for
still more stringent measures. But I repeat it, let no man tell me
it is _now_ a nullity. Have we not seen it executed in our streets,
and at our very doors? I chanced to be in the city of New York at
the time when, I think, its first victim, Henry Long, was torn from
his family, and from a reputable and profitable business, and sent
back,--limbs, and brain, and throbbing, loving heart,--the husband,
father, friend, the peaceful and industrious member of society,--all,
to be the _property_ of a fellow-mortal in a hostile land. Could I
look upon this crimeless man, thus in the grasp of the officers of my
country’s laws, my own representatives, and hurried unresisting to
that dreadful doom; and ever be able to believe the law innocuous, and
myself guiltless while I acquiesced in silence? The rabble followed
him along the streets, shouting in exultation at the negro’s fate.
_Them_ I must acknowledge as my fellows and brethren, but _him_--on
him I must put my heel, with theirs, to crush him out of manhood! And
the morrow’s papers, edited by professed Christians, heralded the
occurrence, with not even a decent pretence of pity and regret, but
as a triumph of LAW, (O sacred name profaned!) in which all good men
should rejoice. That day I felt a stiffing sensation settling down upon
me, of which my previous experience had afforded no precedent, and
with an oppressive weight which no language can describe. _I felt that
I no longer breathed the air of liberty_; that slavery was spreading
her Upas branches athwart _my_ sky also. The convenient apology that
the sin was not mine, but another’s, no longer stood me in stead; and
I have wondered ever since to hear any honest Northern man employ it.
There are Northern men, from whom nothing could surprise me.
And what have we since witnessed? The inferior officers of the law
prowling throughout the North for victims on whom to enforce it. Their
superiors, even to the highest, laboring by speeches and proclamations
and journeyings to and fro in the land (is it too much to say?) to
_dragoon_ the people into its support. The national treasury thrown
wide open to meet its “extraordinary expenses.” Fanueil Hall hung
in chains, to ensure its execution. Presidential candidates vieing
with each other in expressions of attachment and fidelity to it. Able
men, in church and State, spotted for proscription for no other sin
than hating that law, and daring to declare that hatred. And to crown
the whole, the wisdom of the nation, in Baltimore Conventions once
and again assembled, pronouncing the new doctrines of constitutional
responsibility, with the law that embodies it, not only a certainty,
but (hear it, O heavens!) a _finality_! A new word in the political
vocabulary, and verily a new thing in the earth! “Finality,” in
the legislation of freemen! A finality, that forever precludes
reconsideration, amendment, or repeal! When such things are said, and
gravely said, by men professing to be American statesmen, I can almost
imagine the fathers of my country turning painfully in their graves.
And can it be possible, that in the same breath with which men assume
to roll political responsibilities on freemen, they dare require
perpetual silence and unconsidering submission thereto? Then, what is
it to be free?
But let no one dream that these formidable pronouncements have any
enduring force. It is natural, that Southern statesmen should seek,
by every possible expedient, to keep out the flood of discussion
from a system which can so illy bear it. And it is not strange, that
Northern politicians should, for temporary purposes, assist them in
the effort. This is for a day; but the great tide of human thought
flows on forever, and there is no spot from which it will be shut
out. I remember when the right of petition was denied by our Southern
brethren, in respect to this subject; and they found compliant tools
enough from the North to work with for a season. But was the right
of petition sacrificed? Of course not. And is the right of free
discussion, the right to make and (if we please) unmake our laws,
less precious? This subject _will_ be agitated. This law will be
reconsidered; and, if it is not repealed, it will be for the same
reasons that ensures the continuance of other laws, namely, because it
is able to sustain severe and ever recurring scrutiny.
But what is to become of the Union meanwhile? One thing is very
certain. If it deliberately place itself in competition with those
“blessings of liberty,” which it was created to “secure,” it _ought_ to
fall. Shall the end be sacrificed to preserve the means, to which the
end alone gives value? And what are we to think of the statesmanship of
those, who, to effect that preservation, would force such an issue on a
people nursed at the breasts of freedom? I would rather die than live a
traitor to my country; but let me die _ten thousand_ deaths before I
prove treacherous to freedom and to God. “If this be treason, make the
most of it.”
But it is worse than idle to talk so. There is no such issue before
the nation. We are not compelled to choose between disunion and
slavery; a slavery, too, that would not only hold the black man in its
remorseless gripe, but put its fetters on the conscience of the white
man, and its gag into his mouth. Our Southern brethren themselves,
even to save their cherished institution, would not dare, would not
desire to press such an alternative. Were it so, who would not be
ready to surrender the Union as valueless to him, and to part company
with Southrons as men unworthy to be free? But it is not so. There
are Hotspurs, doubtless, enough of them at the South; and Jehus, too
many, at the North. And there are cunning politicians to stand between
the two sections, and play upon the prejudices of both, and into each
other’s hands, for selfish ends. But the great heart of the nation,
North and South, on the whole and according to the measure of its
understanding, beats true alike to freedom and the constitution,--true
to that immortal sentiment which, as long as this nation endures,
shall encircle its author’s name with a halo, in whose splendor some
later words that have fallen from his lips will be happily lost and
forgotten: “Liberty _and_ Union, now and forever, one and inseparable.”
Whatever differences there may be as to the nature, conditions, and
obligations of freedom, or as to the intent and meaning of the
constitution, no party among the people will refuse to submit them
to the ordeal of discussion, and the arbitrament of the appointed
tribunals.
While this is so, let him be deemed the traitor, who stands up before
the world, and belies his country by declaring it to be otherwise.
And let every man prepare to enter into those discussions which no
human power can now stave off, in a spirit of intelligent candor and
kindness, but, at the same time, of inflexible fidelity to God and man.
J. H. Raymond
PLACIDO.
The true wealth and glory of a nation consist not in its gold dust, nor
in its commerce, nor in the grandeur of its palaces, nor yet in the
magnificence of its cities,--but in the intellectual and moral energy
of its people. Egypt is more glorious because of her carrying into
Greece the blessings of civilization, than because of her pyramids,
however wondrous, her lakes and labyrinths, however stupendous, or her
Thebes, though every square marked a palace, or every alley a dome.
Who hears of the moneyed men of Athens, of Rome? And who does _not_
hear of Socrates, of Plato, of Demosthenes, of Virgil, of Cicero? Are
you in converse with him of the “Sea-girt Isle,” and would touch the
chord that vibrates most readily in his heart?--then talk to him of
Shakspeare, of Milton, of Cowper, of Bacon, of Newton; of Burns, of
Scott. To the intelligent son of the “Emerald Isle,” talk of Curran, of
Emmett, of O’Connell.
Great men are a nation’s vitality. Nations pass away,--great men,
never. Great men are not unfrequently buried in dungeons or in
obscurity; but they work out great thoughts for all time, nevertheless.
Did not Bunyan work out a great thought all-vital and vitalizing, when
he lay twelve years in Bedford jail, weaving his tagged lace, and
writing his Pilgrim’s Progress? The greatest man in all America is now
in obscurity. It is he who is “_the Lord of his own soul_,” on whose
brow wisdom has marked her supremacy, and who, in his sphere, moves
“Stilly as a star, on his eternal way.”
A great writer hath said, “Nature is stingy of her great men.” I do
not believe it. God doeth all his work fitly and well; how, therefore,
could he give us great men, not plentifully, but stingily? The truth
is, there are great men, and they are plentiful,--plentiful for the
times, I mean,--but we do not see them, because we will not come into
the sun-light of truth and rectitude where, and where only, dwelleth
greatness.
Placido was a great man. He was a great poet besides. He was a patriot,
also,--how could he be otherwise? Are not all poets patriots?
“Adios Mundo,” cried he, as with tear-bedimmed eyes he looked up into
the blue heavens above him, and upon the green earth beneath him; and
upon the portals of the universe read wisdom, majesty, and power. Was
there no poetry in this outburst of a full heart, and in this looking
upward to heaven? “Adios Mundo,” cried he, as now beholding, for the
last time, the home of his love,--he bared his bosom to the death-shot
of the soldiers.
Great was Placido in life,--he was greater still in death. His was the
faith which fastens itself upon the EVERLASTING I AM.
Call you that greatness which Pizarro achieved when, seizing a sword
and drawing a line upon the sand from east to west, he himself facing
south, he said to his band of pirates:--“_Friends, comrades, on that
side are toil, hunger, nakedness, the drenching storm, desertion,
and death; on this side, ease and pleasure. There lies Peru with its
richness; here Panama with its poverty. Choose, each man what best
becomes a brave Castillian. For my part I go to the south_;”--suiting
the action to the word? So do I,--but look ye, this is merely the
greatness of overwhelming energy and concentrated purpose, not
illuminated by a single ray of light from the Divine. See here, how
Placido dwarfeth Pizarro when he thus prayeth,
“God of unbounded love, and power eternal!
To Thee I turn in darkness and despair;
Stretch forth Thine arm, and from the brow infernal
Of calumny the veil of justice tear!
* * * * *
O, King of kings!--my father’s God!--who only
Art strong to save, by whom is all controlled,--
Who giv’st the sea its waves, the dark and lonely
Abyss of heaven its light, the North its cold,
The air its currents, the warm sun its beams,
Life to the flowers, and motion to the streams:
All things obey Thee; dying or reviving
As thou commandest; all, apart from Thee,
From Thee alone their life and power deriving,
Sink and are lost in vast eternity!
* * * * *
O, merciful God! I cannot shun Thy presence,
For through its veil of flesh, Thy piercing eye
Looketh upon my spirit’s unsoiled essence,
As through the pure transparence of the sky;
Let not the oppressor clap his bloody hands,
As o’er my prostrate innocence he stands.
* * * * *
But if, alas, it seemeth good to Thee
That I should perish as the guilty dies,
Still, fully in me, Thy will be done, O God!”
Placido had a symmetrically developed character. All great men have
this. His intellectual and moral nature blended harmoniously as
“Kindred elements into one.”
An ancient philosopher hath said that the passions and the soul
are placed in the same body, so that the passions might have ready
opportunity to persuade the soul to become subservient to their
purpose. A terrible conflict. And yet through it Placido passed
triumphantly.
Placido was born a slave on the island of Cuba, on the plantation of
Don Terribio De Castro. The year of his birth I am unable to give,
but it must have been somewhere between the years 1790 and 1800. He
was of African origin. But little is known of his earliest days save
that he was of gentle demeanor, and wore an aspect which, though
mild, indicated the working of great thoughts within. He was allowed
some little advantage of education in his youth, and he evinced great
poetic genius. The prayer just quoted was composed by him while he lay
in prison, and repeated on his way from his dungeon to his place of
execution.
The Heraldo, a leading journal of Havana, thus spoke of him after his
arrest:--
“Placido is a celebrated poet,--a man of great genius, but too wild and
ambitious. His object was to subdue Cuba, and make himself the chief.”
The following lines, also, were found inscribed upon the walls of his
dungeon. They were written on the day previous to his execution.
“O Liberty! I wait for thee,
To break this chain, and dungeon bar;
I hear thy voice calling me,
Deep in the frozen North, afar,
With voice like God’s, and vision like a star.
Long cradled in the mountain wind,
Thy mates, the eagle and the storm:
Arise; and from thy brow unbind
The wreath that gives its starry form,
And smite the strength, that would thy strength deform.
Yet Liberty! thy dawning light,
Obscured by dungeon bars, shall cast
A splendor on the breaking night,
And tyrants, flying thick and fast,
Shall tremble at thy gaze, and stand aghast.”
In poetic feeling, patriotic spirit, living faith, and, withal in
literary beauty, these lines are not surpassed; and they cannot fail to
rank Placido not only with the great-hearted, but with the gifted men
of the earth. A tribute to his genius is recorded in the fact, that he
was ransomed from slavery by the contributions of slave-holders of Cuba.
Placido was executed on the 7th of July, 1844. On the first fire of the
soldiers, no ball entered his heart. He looked up, but with no spirit
of revenge, no aspect of defiance,--only sat upon his countenance the
desire to pass at once into the region where no death is.
“Pity me,” said he, “and fire here,”--putting his hand upon his heart.
Two balls then entered his body, and Placido fell.
As Wordsworth said of Toussaint, so may it be said of Placido,--
“Thou hast left behind thee
Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies.
There’s not a breathing of the common wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies,
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
And love, and man’s unconquerable mind.”
The charge against Placido was, that he was at the head of a conspiracy
to overthrow slavery in his native island. Blessings on thee, Placido!
Nor didst thou fail of thy mission. Did the martyrs, stake-bound, fail
of theirs? As the Lord liveth, Cuba shall yet be free.
That Placido was at the head of this conspiracy there is not a doubt;
but what his plans in detail were, I know not; the means of acquiring
them are not within my reach. Nevertheless, from the treatment
throughout of the Cuban authorities towards Placido, we may safely
conclude that Placido’s plan in detail evinced no lack of ability
to originate and execute, nor of that sagacity which should mark a
revolutionary leader. Placido hated slavery with a hatred intensified
by the remembrance of wrongs which a loving and loved mother had borne.
The iron, too, had entered into his own soul; and he had been a daily
witness of scenes such as torment itself could scarcely equal, nor the
pit itself outdo. Call you this extravagance? You will not,--should you
but study a single chapter in the history of Cuban slavery.
Do you honor Kossuth?--then forget not him who is worthy to stand side
by side with Hungary’s illustrious son.
What may be the destiny of Cuba in the future near at hand, I will not
venture to predict. What may be her _ultimate_ destiny is written in
the fact that,--“God hath no attribute which, in a contest between the
oppressed and the oppressor, can take sides with the latter.”
This sketch, though hastily written, and meagre in detail as it must
necessarily be, will show, at least, by the quotations of poetry
introduced, that God hath not given to one race alone, all intellectual
and moral greatness.
William G. Allen
FOOTNOTES:
[A] A son of that distinguished friend of humanity WILLIAM WILBERFORCE.
[B] “Take counsel, execute judgment; make thy shadow as the night
in the midst of the noonday; hide the outcasts; bewray not him that
wandereth. Let my outcasts dwell with thee, Moab; be thou a covert to
them, from the face of the spoiler.” Isaiah 16: 3, 4.
[C] “Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it
not to me.”--_Jesus Christ._ Matt. 25: 45.
[D] “Is it not that thou deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou
bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the
naked that thou cover him? and that thou hide not thyself from thine
own flesh?” “If thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the
putting forth of the finger, and speaking of vanity,” etc. Isa. 58: 6-9.
[E] “Therefore, all things whatsoever ye would that men should
do to you, do ye even so to them; for this is the law and the
prophets.”--_Jesus Christ._ Matt. 7: 12.
[F] “Thou shalt not deliver unto his master, the servant which is
escaped from his master unto thee. He shall dwell with thee; even among
you in that place which he shall choose, in one of thy gates, where it
liketh him best; thou shalt not oppress him.” Deut. 23: 15, 16.
[G] “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” Lev. 19: 18. Matt. 19:
19.
[H] “Hearken unto me, ye that know righteousness; the people in whose
heart is my law: fear ye not the reproach of men, neither be ye afraid
of their revilings. For the moth shall eat them up like a garment,
and the worm shall eat them like wool; but my righteousness shall be
forever, and my salvation from generation to generation.” Isaiah 51: 7,
8.
[I] “Ye that love the Lord, hate evil.” Ps. 97: 10. “The fear of the
Lord is to hate evil.” Prov. 8: 13.
[J] “Who art thou, that thou shouldst be afraid of a man? * * * And
forgettest the Lord thy Maker, * * * and hast feared continually every
day, because of the fury of the oppressor, as if he were ready to
destroy? And where is the fury of the oppressor?” Isaiah 51: 12, 13, 14.
[K] “We ought to obey God rather than men.” Acts 5: 29.
[L] “The captive exile hasteth that he may be loosed,” etc. Isaiah 51:
15.
[M] Haynau.
[N] Editor of the Glasgow Courier. Poor Motherwell! I have it from a
mutual friend that he sympathized _with_ the cause of Freedom, while
paid to write against it.
[O] Daniel Webster’s oration, at the laying the corner-stone of Bunker
Hill Monument, 17 June 1825.
[P] Daniel Webster’s speech in the Senate of the U. S. 7 March 1850.
[Q] Daniel Webster’s speech at the Capron Springs, Virginia, 1851.
[R] It is vain to say that rich governments cannot, and do not, offer
effective temptations to clever and eloquent men, whose religious views
differ from the national form, to induce them to adopt the latter.
[S] Congress, the legislative department, and, of course, the judicial,
its interpreter, were intended to be founded on such undoubted
principles of liberty, that it would be difficult for them to use their
everywhere acknowledged rights, and perform their everywhere expected
duties, without first putting aside the strongest impediment to their
exercise, slavery. In our judgment this has been done. There is no
truth in public law more certain than that protection and allegiance
are reciprocal. They must exist together or not at all. The power of
the United States is adequate for the protection of all within her
limits, and from all within them she expects allegiance. If she is
informed in any way to be relied on, that any person is restrained
of his rights under the constitution of the United States, it is her
duty to see him set at liberty, if he be confined, and see that he is
redressed. It is in vain for Congress to excuse itself from acting,
by saying that it is a _State_ concern. Can a citizen of the _United
States_, if he be a citizen, be tortured or tormented by a _State_,
when there is no pretence that he has violated the law of either?
The constitution of the United States authorizes no man to hold
another as a slave. The United States has no power to hold a slave.
It matters not that it was _intended_ to allow some to hold others as
their slaves. A very vile person may _intend_ to lock up in prison
an innocent and just one, but through mistake he leaves the door
unlocked; does this, in the eyes of any reasonable men, prevent his
making his escape through the door? We are certain not. The only proper
inquiry here is, which is supreme, the government of the Union, or
the government of a particular State of it. It is not necessary to
answer this. If the first deal with no one as a slave, the subordinate
cannot by law. Persons may be held as slaves by fraud, by cunning, by
taking advantage of the ignorance in which we hold them, by force, or a
successful combination of force, but not by LAW.
[T] “Our house stood within a few rods of the Chesapeake bay, whose
broad bosom was ever white with sails from every quarter of the
habitable globe. Those beautiful vessels, robed in purest white, so
delightful to the eye of freemen, were to me so many shrouded ghosts to
terrify and torment me with thoughts of my wretched condition. I have
often, in the deep stillness of a summer’s Sabbath, stood all alone
upon the lofty banks of that noble bay, and traced, with saddened heart
and tearful eye, the countless number of sails moving off to the mighty
ocean. The sight of these always affected me powerfully. My thoughts
would compel utterance; and then, with no audience but the Almighty, I
would pour out my soul’s complaint, in my rude way, with an apostrophe
to the moving multitude of ships:--
“You are loosed from your moorings, and are free; I am fast in my
chains, and am a slave! You move merrily before the gentle gale, and
I sadly before the bloody whip! You are freedom’s swift-winged angels
that fly around the world; I am confined in bands of iron! O that I
were free! O that I were on one of your gallant decks, and under your
protecting wing! Alas! betwixt me and you the turbid waters roll. Go
on, go on. O that I could also go! Could I but swim! If I could fly!
O, why was I born a man, of whom to make a brute! The glad ship is
gone; she hides in the dim distance. I am left in the hottest hell of
unending slavery. O God, save me! God, deliver me! Let me be free! Is
there any God? Why am I a slave? I will run away. * * * Only think of
it; one hundred miles straight north, and I am free! Try it? Yes! God
helping me, I will. It cannot be that I shall live and die a slave.
* * *”--_Autobiography of Douglass_, pp. 64, 65.
[U] “There was no getting rid of it [the thought of his condition]. It
was pressed upon me by every object within sight or hearing, animate or
inanimate. The silver trump of freedom had roused my soul to eternal
wakefulness. Freedom now appeared, to disappear no more forever. It
was heard in every sound, and seen in everything. It was ever present
to torment me with a sense of my wretched condition. I saw nothing
without seeing it, I heard nothing without hearing it, and felt nothing
without feeling it. It looked from every star; it smiled in every calm,
breathed in every wind, and moved in every storm.”--_Autobiography_,
pp. 40, 41.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Superscripted characters are preceded by a carat character: Rob^t.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Archaic or alternate spellings which may have been in use at the time
of publication have been retained.