* * * * *
Had Abraham Lincoln died from any of the numerous ills to which flesh is
heir; had he reached that good old age to which his rigorous
constitution and his temperate habits gave promise; had he been
permitted to see the end of his great work; had the solemn curtain of
death come down but gradually, we should still have been smitten with a
heavy grief and treasured his name lovingly. But dying as he did die, by
the red hand of violence; killed, assassinated, taken off without
warning, not because of personal hate, but because of his fidelity to
Union and liberty, he is doubly dear to us and will be precious forever.
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
From "Inauguration of the Freedmen's Memorial Monument to Abraham
Lincoln."
* * * * *
Let this be an occasion of joy. Why should it not be so! Is not the
heaven over your heads, which has so long been clothed in sackcloth,
beginning to disclose its starry principalities and illumine your
pathway? Do you not see the pitiless storm which, has so long been
pouring its rage upon you breaking away, and a bow of promise as
glorious as that which succeeded the ancient deluge spanning the sky--a
token that to the end of time the billows of prejudice and oppression
shall no more cover the earth to the destruction of your race; but
seedtime and harvest shall never fail, and the laborer shall eat the
fruit of his hands. Is not your cause developing like the spring? Yours
has been a long and rigorous winter. The chill of contempt, the frost of
adversity, the blast of persecution, the storm of oppression--all have
been yours. There was no substance to be found--no prospect to delight
the eye or inspire the drooping heart--no golden ray to dissipate the
gloom. The waves of derision were stayed by no barrier, but made a
clear breach over you. But now--thanks be to God! that dreary winter is
rapidly hastening away. The sun of humanity is going steadily up from
the horizon to its zenith, growing larger and brighter, and melting the
frozen earth beneath, its powerful rays. The genial showers of
repentance are softly falling upon the barren plain; the wilderness is
budding like the rose; the voice of joy succeeds the cotes of we; and
hope, like the lark, is soaring upward and warbling hymns at the gate of
heaven. WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
"From Words of Encouragement to the Opprest."
* * * * *
Listen to the voice of justice and of reason; it cries to us that human
judgments are never certain enough to warrant society in giving death to
a man convicted by other men liable to error. Had you imagined the most
perfect judicial system; had you found the most upright and enlightened
judges, there will always remain some room for error or prejudice. Why
interdict to yourselves the means of reparation? Why condemn yourself to
powerlessness to help opprest innocence? What good can come of the
sterile regrets, these illusory reparations you grant to a vain shade,
to insensible ashes? They are the sad testimonials of the barbarous
temerity of your penal laws. To rob the man of the possibility of
expiating his crime by his repentance or by acts of virtue; to close to
him without mercy every return toward a proper life, and his own esteem;
to hasten his descent, as it were, into the grave still covered with the
recent blotch, of his crime, is in my eyes the most horrible refinement
of cruelty. MAXIMILIEN MARIE ISIDORE ROBESPIERRE.