FOOTNOTES:

[163] Lev. xxv. 44, 45, 56.

[164] Lev. xxv. 44, 45, 46.

[165] Exod. xxi. 20, 21.

[166] Exod. xxi. 7, 8.

[167] Deut. xxiii. 15, 16.

[168] Moses Stewart, a divine of Massachusetts, who had devoted a long and laborious life to the interpretation of Scripture, and who was by no means a friend to the institution of slavery.

[169] Speech in the Metropolitan Theatre, 1855.

[170] Speech at the Metropolitan Theatre, 1855.

[171] Fools may hope to escape responsibility by such a cry. But if there be any truth in moral science, than every man should examine and decide, or else forbear to act.

[172] The Italics are ours.

[173] The emphasis is ours.

[174] Elliott on Slavery, vol. i. p. 205.



CHAPTER IV.

THE ARGUMENT FROM THE PUBLIC GOOD.

The Question—Emancipation in the British Colonies—The manner in which Emancipation has ruined the British Colonies—The great benefit supposed, by American Abolitionists, to result to the freed Negroes from the British Act of Emancipation—The Consequences of Abolition to the South—Elevation of the Blacks by Southern Slavery.

WE have not shunned the abstractions of the abolitionist. We have, on the contrary, examined all his arguments, even the most abstract, and endeavored to show that they either rest on false assumptions, or consist in false deductions. While engaged in this analysis of his errors, we have more than once had occasion to remind him that the great practical problem of slavery is to be determined, if determined at all, not by an appeal to abstractions, but simply by a consideration of the public good. It is under this point of view, or with reference to the highest good of the governed, that we now proceed to consider the institution of slavery.

The way is open and clear for this view of the subject. For we have seen, we trust, that slavery is condemned neither by any principle of natural justice, nor by any precept of divine revelation. On the other hand, if we mistake not, it has been most clearly shown that the doctrines and practices of the abolitionist are at war with the most explicit words of God, as well as with the most unquestionable principles of political ethics. Hence, without the least disrespect to the eternal principles of right, we may now proceed to subject his doctrines to the only remaining test of political truth, namely, to the test of experience. Having examined the internal qualities of the tree and found them bad, we may now proceed to inquire if "its fruits" be not poison. And if the sober lessons of history, if the infallible records of experience, be found in perfect harmony with the conclusions of reason and of revelation, then shall we not be triply justified in pronouncing abolitionism a social and a moral curse?

Sec. I. The Question.

Here, at the outset, we may throw aside a mass of useless verbiage, with which our inquiry is usually encumbered. We are eternally told that Kentucky has fallen behind Ohio, and Virginia behind Pennsylvania, because their energies have been crippled, and their prosperity over-clouded, by the institution of slavery. Now, it is of no importance to our argument that we should either deny the fact, or the explanation which is given of it by abolitionists. If the question were, whether slavery should be introduced among us, or into any non-slaveholding State, then such facts and explanations would be worthy of our notice. Then such an appeal to experience would be relevant to the point in dispute. But such is not the question. We are not called upon to decide whether slavery shall be established in our midst or not. This question has been decided for us. Slavery—as every body knows—was forced upon the colonies by the arbitrary and despotic rule of Great Britain, and that, too, against the earnest remonstrances of our ancestors. The thing has been done. The past is beyond our control. It is fixed and unalterable. The only inquiry which remains for us now is, whether the slavery which was thus forced upon our ancestors shall be continued, or whether it shall be abolished? The question is not what Virginia, or Kentucky, or any other slave State, might have been, but what they would be in case slavery were abolished. If abolitionists would speak to the point, then let them show us some country in which slavery has been abolished, and we will abide by the experiment. Fortunately for us, we need not look far for such an experiment;—an experiment which has been made, not upon mere chattels or brutes, but upon the social and moral well-being of more than a million of human beings. We refer, of course, to the emancipation of the slaves in the British colonies. This work, as every one knows, was the great vaunted achievement of British abolitionists. Here, then, we may see their philosophy—if philosophy it may be called—"teaching by example." Here we may see and taste the fruits of abolitionism, ere we conclude to grow them upon our own soil.

Sec. II. Emancipation in the British Colonies.

It is scarcely in the power of human language to describe the enthusiastic delight with which the abolitionists, both in England and in America, were inspired by the spectacle of West India Emancipation. We might easily adduce a hundred illustrations of the almost frantic joy with which it intoxicated their brains. We shall, however, for the sake of brevity, confine our attention to a single example,—which will, at the same time, serve to show, not only how wild the abolitionist himself was, but also how indignant he became that others were not equally disposed to part with their sober senses. "The prevalent state of feeling," said Dr. Channing in 1840, "in the free States in regard to slavery is indifference—an indifference strengthened by the notion of great difficulties attending the subject. The fact is painful, but the truth should be spoken. The majority of the people, even yet, care little about the matter. A painful proof of this insensibility was furnished about a year and a half ago, when the English West Indies were emancipated. An event surpassing this in moral grandeur is not recorded in history. In one day, probably seven hundred thousand of human beings were rescued from bondage to full, unqualified freedom. The consciousness of wrongs, in so many breasts, was exchanged into rapturous, grateful joy. What shouts of thanksgiving broke forth from those liberated crowds! What new sanctity and strength were added to the domestic ties! What new hopes opened on future generations! The crowning glory of this day was the fact that the work of emancipation was wholly due to the principles of Christianity. The West Indies were freed, not by force, or human policy, but by the reverence of a great people for justice and humanity. The men who began and carried on this cause were Christian philanthropists; and they prevailed by spreading their own spirit through a nation. In this respect, the emancipation of the West Indies was a grander work than the redemption of the Israelites from bondage. This was accomplished by force, by outward miracles, by the violence of the elements. That was achieved by love, by moral power, by God, working, not in the stormy seas, but in the depths of the human heart. And how was this day of emancipation—one of the most blessed days that ever dawned upon the earth—received in this country? While in distant England a thrill of gratitude and joy pervaded thousands and millions, we, the neighbors of the West Indies, and who boast of our love of liberty, saw the sun of that day rise and set with hardly a thought of the scenes on which it was pouring its joyful light. The greater part of our newspapers did not refer to the event. The great majority of the people had forgotten it. Such was the testimony we gave to our concern for the poor slave; and is it from discussions of slavery among such a people that the country is to be overturned?"

Such were the glowing expectations of the abolitionists. It now remains to be seen whether they were true prophets, or merely "blind leaders of the blind." Be that as it may, for the present we cannot agree with Dr. Channing, that the good people of the free States were insincere in boasting of their "love of liberty," because they did not go into raptures over so fearful an experiment before they had some little time to see how it would work. They did, no doubt, most truly and profoundly love liberty. But then they had some reason to suspect, perhaps, that liberty may be one thing, and abolitionism quite another. Liberty, they knew, was a thing of light and love; but as for abolitionism, it was, for all they knew, a demon of destruction. Hence they would wait, and see. We do well to rejoice at once, exclaims Dr. Channing. If a man-child is born into the world, says he, do we wait to read his future life ere we rejoice at his birth? Ah, no! But then, perhaps, this offspring of abolitionism is no man-child at all. It may, for aught we know, be an abortion of night and darkness merely. Hence, we shall wait, and mark his future course, ere we rend the air with shouts that he is born at last.

This man-child, or this monster, is now seventeen years and four months old. His character is developed, and fixed for life. We may now read his history, written by impartial men, and determine for ourselves, whether it justifies the bright and boundless hopes of the abolitionists, or the "cold indifference," nay, the suspicions and the fears, of the good people of the free States.

We shall begin with Jamaica, which is by far the largest and most valuable of the British West Indies. The very first year after the complete emancipation of the slaves of this island, its prosperity began to manifest symptoms of decay. As long as it was possible, however, to find or invent an explanation of these fearful signs, the abolitionists remained absolutely blind to the real course of events. In 1839, the first year of complete emancipation, it appeared that the crop of sugar exported from the island had fallen off no less than eight thousand four hundred and sixty-six hogsheads. But, then, it was discovered that the hogsheads had been larger this year than the preceding! It is true, there was not exactly any proof that larger hogsheads had been used all over the island, but it was rumored; and the rumor was, of course, eagerly swallowed by the abolitionists.

And besides, it was quite certain that the free negroes had eaten more sugar than while they were slaves, which helped mightily to account for the great diminution in the exports of the article. No one could deny this. It is certain, that if the free negroes only devoured sugar as eagerly as such floating conjectures were gulped down by the abolitionists, the whole phenomenon needed no other cause for its perfect explanation. It never once occured, however, to these reasoners to imagine that the decrease in the amount of rum exported from another island might be owing to the circumstance that the free blacks had swallowed a little more of that article as well as of sugar. On the contrary, this fact was held up as a most conclusive and triumphant proof that the free negroes had not only become temperate themselves, but also so virtuous that they scorned to produce such an article to poison their fellow-men. The English abolitionists who rejoiced at such a reflection were, it must be confessed, standing on rather delicate ground. For if such an inference proved any thing, it proved that the blacks of the island in question had, at one single bound, passed from the depths of degradation to an exaltation of virtue far above their emancipators, the English people themselves; since these, as every reader of history knows, not only enforced the culture of opium in India, but also absolutely compelled the poor Chinese to receive it at the mouth of the cannon!

It also appears that, for 1839, the amount of coffee exported had fallen off 38,554 cwt., or about one third of the whole amount of the preceding year. "The coffee is a very uncertain crop," said a noted English emancipationist, in view of this startling fact, "and the deficiency, on the comparison of these two years, is not greater, I believe, than has often occurred before." This is true, for a drought or a hurricane had before created quite as great a deficiency. But while the fact is true, it only proves that the first year of emancipation was no worse on the coffee crop than a drought or a hurricane.

"We should also remember," says this zealous abolitionist, "that, both in sugar and coffee, the profit to the planter may be increased by the saving of expense, even where the produce is diminished." Such a thing, we admit, is possible; it may be true. But in point of fact, as we shall soon see, the expense was increased, while the crop was diminished.

But after every possible explanation, even Dr. Channing and Mr. Gurney were bound to admit "that some decrease has taken place in both the articles, in connection with the change of system." They also admitted that "so far as this decrease of produce is connected with the change of system, it is obviously to be traced to a corresponding decrease in the quantity of labor."

May we not suppose, then, that here the ingenuity of man is at an end, and the truth begins to be allowed to make its appearance? By no means. For here "comes the critical question,"—says Mr. Gurney, "the real turning point. To what is this decrease in the quantity of labor owing? I answer deliberately but without reserve, 'Mainly to causes which class under slavery and not under freedom.' It is, for the most part, the result of those impolitic attempts to force the labor of freemen which have disgusted the peasantry, and have led to the desertion of many of the estates."

Now suppose this were the case, is it not the business, is it not the duty, of the legislator to consider the passions, the prejudices, and the habits of those for whom he legislates? Indeed, if he overlook these, is he not a reckless experimenter rather than a wise statesman? If he legislates, not for man as he is, but for man as he ought to be, is he not a political dreamer rather than a sound philosopher?

The abolitionist not only closed his eyes on every appearance of decline in the prosperity of the West Indies, he also seized with avidity every indication of the successful operation of his scheme, and magnified it both to himself and to the world. He made haste, in particular, to paint in the most glowing colors the rising prosperity of Jamaica.[175] His narrative was hailed with eager delight by abolitionists in all parts of the civilized world. It is a pity, we admit, to spoil so fine a story, or to put a damper on so much enthusiasm. But the truth, especially in a case like the present, should be told. While, then, to the enchanted imagination of the abolitionist, the wonderful industry of the freed negroes and the exuberant bounty of nature were concurring to bring about a paradise in the island of Jamaica, the dark stream of emancipation was, in reality, undermining its prosperity and glory. We shall now proceed to adduce the evidence of this melancholy fact, which has in a few short years become so abundant and so overwhelming, that even the most blind and obstinate must feel its force.

After describing the immense sources of wealth to be found in Jamaica, an intelligent eye-witness says: "Such are some of the natural resources of this dilapidated and poverty-stricken country. Capable as it is of producing almost every thing, and actually producing nothing which might not become a staple with a proper application of capital and skill, its inhabitants are miserably poor, and daily sinking deeper into the utter helplessness of abject want.

"'Magnas inter opes inops.'

"Shipping has deserted her ports; her magnificent plantations of sugar and coffee are running to weeds; her private dwellings are falling to decay; the comforts and luxuries which belong to industrial prosperity have been cut off, one by one, from her inhabitants; and the day, I think, is at hand when there will be none left to represent the wealth, intelligence, and hospitality for which the Jamaica planter was once distinguished."[176]

"It is impossible," says Mr. Carey, "to read Mr. Bigelow's volume, without arriving at the conclusion that the freedom granted to the negro has had little effect except that of enabling him to live at the expense of the planter so long as any thing remained. Sixteen years of freedom did not appear to its author to have 'advanced the dignity of labor or of the laboring classes one particle,' while it had ruined the proprietors of the land, and thus great damage had been done to the one class without benefit of any kind to the other.

From a statistical table, published in August, 1853, it appears, says one of our northern journals, that, since 1846, "the number of sugar estates on the island that have been totally abandoned amounts to one hundred and sixty-eight, and the number partially abandoned to sixty-three; the value of which two hundred and thirty-one estates was assessed, in 1841, at L1,655,140, or nearly eight millions and a half of dollars. Within the same period two hundred and twenty-three coffee-plantations have been totally, and twenty partially, abandoned, the assessed value of which was, in 1841, L500,000, or two millions and a half of dollars; and of cattle-pens, (grazing farms,) one hundred and twenty-two have been totally, and ten partially, abandoned, the value of which was a million and a half of dollars. The aggregate value of these six hundred and six estates, which have been thus ruined and abandoned in the island of Jamaica, within the last seven or eight years, amounted by the regular assessments, ten years since, to the sum of nearly two and a half millions of pounds sterling, or twelve and a half millions of dollars."[177]

In relation to Jamaica, another witness says: "The marks of decay abound. Neglected fields, crumbling houses, fragmentary fences, noiseless machinery—these are common sights, and soon become familiar to observation. I sometimes rode for miles in succession over fertile ground, which used to be cultivated, and which is now lying waste. So rapidly has cultivation retrograded, and the wild luxuriance of nature replaced the conveniences of art, that parties still inhabiting these desolated districts have sometimes, in the strong language of a speaker at Kingston, 'to seek about the bush to find the entrance into their houses.'

"The towns present a spectacle no less gloomy. A great part of Kingston was destroyed, some years ago, by an extensive conflagration: yet multitudes of the houses which escaped that visitation are standing empty, though the population is little, if at all, diminished. The explanation is obvious. Persons who have nothing, and can no longer keep up their domestic establishments, take refuge in the abodes of others, where some means of subsistence are still left; and in the absence of any discernible trade or occupation, the lives of crowded thousands appear to be preserved from day to day by a species of miracle. The most busy thoroughfares of former times have now almost the quietude of a Sabbath.

"'The finest land in the world,' says Mr. Bigelow, 'may be had at any price, and almost for the asking.' Labor 'receives no compensation, and the product of labor does not seem to know how to find the way to market.'"[178]

From the report made in 1849, and signed by various missionaries, the moral and religious state of the island appears no less gloomy than its scenes of poverty and distress. The following extract from that report we copy from Mr. Carey's "Slave Trade, Domestic and Foreign:"—

"Missionary efforts in Jamaica are beset at the present time with many and great discouragements. Societies at home have withdrawn or diminished the amount of assistance afforded by them to chapels and schools throughout this island. The prostrate condition of its agriculture and commerce disables its own population from doing as much as formerly for maintaining the worship of God and the tuition of the young, and induces numbers of negro laborers to retire from estates which have been thrown up, to seek the means of subsistence in the mountains, where they are removed in general from moral training and superintendence. The consequences of this state of matters are very disastrous. Not a few missionaries and teachers—often struggling with difficulties which they could not overcome—have returned to Europe, and others are preparing to follow them. Chapels and schools are abandoned, or they have passed into the hands of very incompetent instructors."

We cannot dwell upon each of the West India Islands. Some of these have not suffered so much as others; but while some, from well-known causes, have been partially exempt from the evils of emancipation, all have suffered to a fearful extent. This, as we shall now show, is most amply established by English authorities.

Mr. Bigelow, whose "Notes on Jamaica in 1850" we have noticed, is an American writer; a Northern man; and, it is said, by no means a friend to the institution of slavery. It is certain that Mr. Robert Baird, from whom we shall now quote, is not only a subject of Great Britain, but also a most enthusiastic advocate of "the glorious Act of British Emancipation." But although he admires that act, yet, on visiting the West Indies for his health, he could not fail to be struck with the appalling scenes of distress there exhibited. In describing these, his object is not to reflect shame on the misguided philanthropy of Great Britain; but only to urge the adoption of other measures, in order to rescue the West Indies from the utter ruin and desolation which must otherwise soon overtake them. We might easily adduce many impressive extracts from his work; but, for the sake of brevity, we shall confine our attention to one or two passages.

"Hope," says Mr. Baird, "delights to brighten the prospects of the future; and thus it is that the British West Indian planter goes on from year to year, struggling against his downward progress, and still hoping that something may yet turn up to retrieve his ruined fortunes. But all do not struggle on. Many have given in, and many more can and will confirm the statement of a venerable friend of my own—a gentleman high in office in one of the islands above-mentioned—who, when showing me his own estate and sugar-works, assured me, that for above a quarter of a century they had yielded him nearly L2000 per annum; and that now, despite all his efforts and improvements, (which were many,) he could scarcely manage to make the cultivation pay itself. Instances of this kind might be multiplied till the reader was tired, and even heart-sick, of such details. But what need of such? Is it not notorious? Has it not been proved by the numerous failures that have taken place of late years among our most extensive West Indian merchants? Are not the reports of almost all the governors of our colonial possessions filled with statements to the effect that great depreciation of property has taken place in all and each of our West Indian colonies, and that great has been the distress consequent thereupon? These governors are, of course, all of them imbued, to some extent, with the ministerial policy—at least it is reasonable to assume that they are so. At all events, whether they are so or not, their position almost necessitates their doing their utmost to carry out, with success, the ministerial views and general policy. To embody the substance of the answer given by a talented lieutenant-governor, in my own hearing, to an address which set forth, somewhat strongly, the ruined prospects and wasted fortunes of the colonists under his government: 'It must, or it ought to be, the object and the desire of every governor or lieutenant-governor in the British West Indian Islands, to disappoint and stultify, if he can, the prognostications of coming ruin with which the addresses he receives from time to time are continually charged?' Yet what say these governors? Do not the reports of one and all of them confirm the above statement as to the deplorable state of distress to which the West Indian planters in the British colonies are reduced?"[179]

Again, he says: "That the British West Indian colonists have been loudly complaining that they are ruined, is a fact so generally acknowledged, that the very loudness and frequency of the complaint has been made a reason for disregarding or undervaluing the grounds of it. That the West Indians are always grumbling is an observation often heard; and, no doubt, it is very true that they are so. But let any one who thinks that the extent and clamor of the complaint exceeds the magnitude of the distress which has called it forth, go to the West Indies and judge for himself. Let him see with his own eyes the neglected and abandoned estates,—the uncultivated fields, fast hurrying back into a state of nature, with all the speed of tropical luxuriance—the dismantled and silent machinery, the crumbling walls, and deserted mansions, which are familiar sights in most of the British West Indian colonies. Let him, then, transport himself to the Spanish islands of Porto Rico and Cuba, and witness the life and activity which in these slave colonies prevail. Let him observe for himself the activity of the slavers—the improvements daily making in the cultivation of the fields and in the processes carried on at the Ingenios or sugar-mills—and the general indescribable air of thriving and prosperity which surrounds the whole,—and then let him come back to England and say, if he honestly can, that the British West Indian planters and proprietors are grumblers, who complain without adequate cause."[180]

Great Britain has shown no little solicitude to ascertain the real state of things in her West India colonies. For this purpose, she appointed, in 1842, a select committee, consisting of some of the most prominent members of Parliament, with Lord Stanley at their head. In 1848, another committee was appointed by her, with Lord George Bentinck as its chairman, to inquire into the condition of her Majesty's East and West India possessions and the Mauritius, and to consider whether any measures could be adopted for their relief. The report of both committees show, beyond all doubt, that unexampled distress existed in the colonies. The report of 1848 declares: "That many estates in the British West India colonies have been already abandoned, that many more are in the course of abandonment, and that from this cause a very serious diminution is to be apprehended in the total amount of production. That the first effect of this diminution will be an increase in the price of sugar, and the ultimate effect a greater extension to the growth of sugar in slave countries, and a greater impetus to slavery and the slave-trade." From the same report, we also learn that the prosperity of the Mauritius, no less than that of the West India Islands, had suffered a fearful blight, in consequence of the "glorious act of emancipation."

A third commission was appointed, in 1850, to inquire into the condition and prospects of British Guiana. Lord Stanley, in his second letter to Mr. Gladstone, the Secretary of the British colonies, has furnished us with the following extracts from the report of this committee:—

"Of Guiana generally they say—'It would be but a melancholy task to dwell upon the misery and ruin which so alarming a change must have occasioned to the proprietary body; but your commissioners feel themselves called upon to notice the effects which this wholsale abandonment of property has produced upon the colony at large. Where whole districts are fast relapsing into bush, and occasional patches of provisions around the huts of village settlers are all that remain to tell of once flourishing estates, it is not to be wondered at that the most ordinary marks of civilization are rapidly disappearing, and that in many districts of the colony all travelling communication by land will soon become utterly impracticable.'

"Of the Abary district:—'Your commission find that the line of road is nearly impassable, and that a long succession of formerly cultivated estates presents now a series of pestilent swamps, overrun with bush, and productive of malignant fevers.'

"Nor are matters," says Lord Stanley, "much better further south.

"'Proceeding still lower down, your commissioners find that the public roads and bridges are in such a condition that the few estates still remaining on the upper west bank of Mahaica Creek are completely cut off, save in the very dry season; and that with regard to the whole district, unless something be done very shortly, travelling by land will entirely cease. In such a state of things it cannot be wondered at that the herdsman has a formidable enemy to encounter in the jaguar and other beasts of prey, and that the keeping of cattle is attended with considerable loss from the depredations committed by these animals.'

"It may be worth noticing," continues Lord Stanley, "that this district—now overrun with wild beasts of the forest—was formerly the very garden of the colony. The estates touched one another along the whole line of the road, leaving no interval of uncleared land.

"The east coast, which is next mentioned by the commissioners, is better off. Properties, once of immense value, had there been bought at nominal prices; and the one railroad of Guiana passing through that tract, a comparatively industrious population—composed of former laborers on the line—enabled the planters still to work these to some profit. Even of this favored spot, however, they report that it 'feels most severely the want of continuous labor.'

"The commissioners next visit the east bank of the Demerara River, thus described:—

"'Proceeding up the east bank of the river Demerara, the generally prevailing features of ruin and distress are everywhere perceptible. Roads and bridges almost impassable are fearfully significant exponents of the condition of the plantations which they traverse; and Canal No. 3, once covered with plantains and coffee, presents now a scene of almost total desolation.'

"Crossing to the west side, they find prospects somewhat brighter: 'A few estates, are still 'keeping up a cultivation worthy of better times.' But this prosperous neighborhood is not extensive, and the next picture presented to our notice is less agreeable:—

"'Ascending the river still higher, your commissioners learn that the district between Hobaboe Creek and "Stricken Heuvel" contained, in 1829, eight sugar and five coffee and plantain estates, and now there remain but three in sugar, and four partially cultivated with plantains, by petty settlers; while the roads, with one or two exceptions, are in a state of utter abandonment. Here, as on the opposite bank of the river, hordes of squatters have located themselves, who avoid all communication with Europeans, and have seemingly given themselves up altogether to the rude pleasures of a completely savage life.'

"The west coast of Demerara—the only part of the country which still remains unvisited—is described as showing only a diminution of fifty per cent. upon its produce of sugar; and with this fact the evidence concludes as to one of the three sections into which the colony is divided. Does Demerara stand alone in its misfortunes?

"Again hear the report:—'If the present state of the county of Demerara affords cause for deep apprehension, your commissioners find that Essequibo has retrograded to a still more alarming extent. In fact, unless a large and speedy supply of labor be obtained to cultivate the deserted fields of this once flourishing district, there is great reason to fear that it will relapse into total abandonment.'

"Describing another portion of the colony—they say of one district, 'Unless a fresh supply of labor be very soon obtained, there is every reason to fear that it will become completely abandoned.' Of a second, 'speedy immigration alone can save this island from total ruin.' 'The prostrate condition of this once beautiful part of the coast,' are the words which begin another paragraph, describing another tract of country. Of a fourth, 'the proprietors on this coast seem to be keeping up a hopeless struggle against approaching ruin.' Again, 'the once famous Arabian coast, so long the boast of the colony, presents now but a mournful picture of departed prosperity. Here were formerly situated some of the finest estates in the country, and a large resident body of proprietors lived in the district, and freely expended their incomes on the spot whence they derived them.' Once more, 'the lower part of the coast, after passing Devonshire Castle, to the river Pomeroon, presents a scene of almost total desolation.' Such is Essequibo!

"Berbice," says Lord Stanley, "has fared no better. Its rural population amounts to 18,000. Of these, 12,000 have withdrawn from the estates, and mostly from the neighborhood of the white man, to enjoy a savage freedom of ignorance and idleness, beyond the reach of example and sometimes of control. But on the condition of the negro I shall dwell more at length hereafter; at present it is the state of property with which I have to do. What are the districts which together form the county of Berbice? The Corentyne coast—the Canje Creek—east and west banks of the Berbice River—and the west coast, where, however, cotton was formerly the chief article produced. To each of these respectively the following passages, quoted in order, apply:—

"'The abandoned plantations on this coast,[181] which, if capital and labor could be procured, might easily be made very productive, are either wholly deserted, or else appropriated by hordes of squatters, who of course are unable to keep up at their own expense the public roads and bridges; and consequently all communication by land between the Corentyne and New Amsterdam is nearly at an end. The roads are impassable for horses or carriages, while for foot passengers they are extremely dangerous. The number of villages in this deserted region must be upward of 2500, and as the country abounds with fish and game, they have no difficulty in making a subsistence. In fact, the Corentyne coast is fast relapsing into a state of nature.'

"'Canje Creek was formerly considered a flourishing district of the county, and numbered on its east bank seven sugar and three coffee estates, and on its west bank eight estates, of which two were in sugar and six in coffee, making a total of eighteen plantations. The coffee cultivation has long since been entirely abandoned, and of the sugar estates but eight still now remain. They are suffering severely for want of labor, and being supported principally by African and Coolie immigrants, it is much to be feared that if the latter leave and claim their return passages to India, a great part of the district will become abandoned.'

"Under present circumstances, so gloomy is the condition of affairs here,[182] that the two gentlemen whom your commissioners have examined with respect to this district, both concur in predicting "its slow but sure approximation to the condition in which civilized man first found it."'

"'A district[183] that in 1829 gave employment to 3635 registered slaves, but at the present moment there are not more than 600 laborers at work on the few estates still in cultivation, although it is estimated there are upward of 2000 people idling in villages of their own. The roads are in many parts several feet under water and perfect swamps, while in some places the bridges are wanting altogether. In fact the whole district is fast becoming a total wilderness, with the exception of the one or two estates which yet continue to struggle on, and which are hardly accessible now but by water.'

"'Except in some of the best villages,[184] they care not for back or front dams to keep off the water; their side-lines are disregarded, and consequently the drainage is gone, while in many instances the public road is so completely flooded that canoes have to be used as a means of transit. The Africans are unhappily following the example of the Creoles in this district, and buying land on which they settle in contented idleness; and your commissioners cannot view instances like these without the deepest alarm, for if this pernicious habit of squatting is allowed to extend to the immigrants also, there is no hope for the colony.'"[185]

We might fill a volume with extracts to the same effect. We might in like manner point to other regions, especially to Guatemala, to the British colony on the southern coast of Africa, and to the island of Hayti, in all of which emancipation has been followed by precisely similar results. But we must hasten to consider how it is that emancipation has wrought all this ruin and desolation. In the mean time, we shall conclude this section in the ever-memorable words of Alison, the historian: "The negroes," says he, "who, in a state of slavery, were comfortable and prosperous beyond any peasantry in the world, and rapidly approaching the condition of the most opulent serfs of Europe, have been by the act of emancipation irretrievably consigned to a state of barbarism."

Sec. III. The manner in which emancipation has ruined the British Colonies.

By the act of emancipation, Great Britain paralyzed the right arm of her colonial industry. The laborer would not work except occasionally, and the planter was ruined. The morals of the negro disappeared with his industry, and he speedily retraced his steps toward his original barbarism. All this had been clearly foretold. "Emancipation," says Dr. Channing in 1840, "was resisted on the ground that the slave, if restored to his rights, would fall into idleness and vagrancy, and even relapse into barbarism."

This was predicted by the West Indian planters, who certainly had a good opportunity to know something of the character of the negro, whether bond or free. But who could suppose for a moment that an enlightened abolitionist would listen to slaveholders? His response was, that "their unhappy position as slaveholders had robbed them of their reason and blunted their moral sense." Precisely the same thing had been foretold by the Calhouns and the Clays of this country. But they, too, were unfortunately slaveholders, and, consequently, so completely "sunk in moral darkness," that their testimony was not entitled to credit. The calmest, the profoundest, the wisest statesman of Great Britain likewise forewarned the agitators of the desolation and the woes they were about to bring upon the West Indies. But the madness of the day would confide in no wisdom except its own, and listen to no testimony except to the clamor of fanatics. Hence the frightful experiment was made, and, as we have seen, the prediction of the anti-abolitionist has been fulfilled to the very letter.

The cause of this downward tendency in the British colonies is now perfectly apparent to all who have eyes to see. On this point, the two committees above referred to both concur in the same conclusion. The committee of 1842 declare, "that the principal causes of this diminished production, and consequent distress, are the great difficulty which has been experienced by the planters in obtaining steady and continuous labor, and the high rate of remuneration which they give for even the broken and indifferent work which they are able to procure."

The cry of the abolitionist has been changed. At first—even before the experiment was more than a year old—he insisted that the industry of the freed black was working wonders in the British colonies. In the West Indies, in particular, he assured us that the freed negro would do "an infinity of work for wages."[186] Though he had been on the islands, and had had an opportunity to see for himself, he boasted that "the old notion that the negro is, by constitution, a lazy creature, who will do no work at all except by compulsion, is now forever exploded."[187] He even declared, that the free negro "understands his interest as well as a Yankee."[188] These confident statements, made by an eye-witness, were hailed by the abolitionists as conclusive proof that the experiment was working admirably. "The great truth has come out," says Dr. Channing, "that the hopes of the most sanguine advocates of emancipation have been realized—if not surpassed—by the West Indies." What! the negro become idle, indeed! "He is more likely," says the enchanted doctor, "to fall into the civilized man's cupidity than into the filth and sloth of the savage." But all these magnificent boasts were quite premature. A few short years have sufficed to demonstrate that the deluded authors of them, who had so lamentably failed to predict the future, could not even read the present.

Their boasts are now exploded. Their former hopes are blasted; and their cry is changed. The song now is,—"Well, suppose the negroes will not work: they are FREE! They can now do as they list, and there is no man to hinder." Ah, yes! they can now, at their own sweet will, stretch themselves "under their gracefully-waving groves," and be lulled to sleep amid the sound of waterfalls and the song of birds.

Such, precisely, is the paradise for which the negro sighs, except that he does not care for the waterfalls and the birds. But it should be remarked, that when sinful man was driven from the only Paradise that earth has ever seen, he was doomed to eat his bread in the sweat of his brow. This doom he cannot reverse. Let him make of life—as the Haytien negroes do—"one long day of unprofitable ease,"[189] and he may dream of Paradise, or the abolitionists may dream for him. But while he dreams, the laws of nature are sternly at their work. Indolence benumbs his feeble intellect, and inflames his passions. Poverty and want are creeping on him. Temptation is surrounding him; and vice, with all her motley train, is winding fast her deadly coils around his very soul, and making him the devil's slave, to do his work upon the earth. Thus, the blossoms of his paradise are fine words, and its fruits are death.

"If but two hours' labor per day," says Theodore Parker, "are necessary for the support of each colored man, I know not why he should toil longer." You know not, then, why the colored man should work more than two hours a day? Neither does the colored man himself. You know not why he should have any higher or nobler aim in life than to supply his few, pressing, animal wants? Neither does he. You know not why he should think of the future, or provide for the necessities of old age? Neither does he. You know not why he should take thought for seasons of sickness? Neither does he; and hence his child often dies under his own eyes, for the want of medical attendance. You know not that the colored man, who begins with working only two hours a day, will soon end with ceasing from all regular employment, and live, in the midst of filth, by stealing or other nefarious means? In one word, you know not why the colored man should not live like the brute, in and for the present merely—blotting out all the future from his plans of life? If, indeed, you really know none of these things, then we beg you will excuse us, if we do not know why you should assume to teach our senators wisdom;—if we do not know why the cobbler should not stick to his last, and all such preachers to their pulpits.[190]

Abolitionism is decidedly progressive. The time was when Dr. Channing thought that men should work, and that, if they would not labor from rational motives, they should be compelled to labor.[191] The time was, when even abolitionists looked upon labor with respect, and regarded it as merely an obedience to the very first law of nature, or merely a compliance with the very first condition of all economic, social, and moral well-being. But the times are changed. The exigencies of abolitionism now require that manual labor, and the gross material wealth it produces, should be sneeringly spoken of, and great swelling eulogies pronounced on the infinite value of the negro's freedom. For this is all he has; and for this, all else has been sacrificed. Thus, since abolitionists themselves have been made to see that the freed negro—the pet and idol of their hearts—will not work from rational motives, then the principles of political economy, and the affairs of the world, all must be adjusted to the course he may be pleased to take.

In this connection we shall notice a passage from Montesquieu, which is exactly in point. He is often quoted by the abolitionists, but seldom fairly. It is true, he is exceedingly hostile to slavery in general, and very justly pours ridicule and contempt on some of the arguments used in favor of the institution. But yet, with all his enthusiastic love of liberty,—nay, with his ardent passion for equality,—he saw far too deeply into the true "Spirit of Laws" not to perceive that slavery is, in certain cases, founded on the great principles of political justice. It is precisely in those cases in which a race or a people will not work without being compelled to do so, that he justifies the institution in question. Though warmly and zealously opposed to slavery, yet he was not bent on sacrificing the good of society to abstractions or to prejudice. Hence, he could say: "But as all men are born equal, slavery must be accounted unnatural, THOUGH IN SOME COUNTRIES IT BE FOUNDED ON NATURAL REASON; and a wide difference ought to be made betwixt such countries, and those in which natural reason rejects it, as in Europe, where it has been happily abolished."[192] Now, if we inquire in what countries, or under what circumstances, he considered slavery founded on natural reason, we may find his answer in a preceding portion of the same page. It is in those "countries," says he, "where the excess of heat enervates the body, and renders men so slothful and dispirited, that nothing but the fear of chastisement can oblige them to perform any laborious duty," etc. Such, as we have seen, is precisely the case with the African race in its present condition.

"Natural slavery, then," he continues, "is to be limited to some particular parts of the world."[193] And again: "Bad laws have made lazy men—they have been reduced to slavery because of their laziness." The first portion of this remark—that bad laws have made lazy men—is not applicable to the African race. For they were made lazy, not by bad laws, but by the depravity of human nature, in connection and co-operation with long, long centuries of brutal ignorance and the most savage modes of life. But, be the cause of this laziness what it may, it is sufficient, according to the principles of this great advocate of human freedom and equality, to justify the servitude in which the providence of God has placed the African.

No doubt it is very hard on lazy men that they should be compelled to work. It is for this reason that Montesquieu calls such slavery "the most cruel that is to be found among men;" by which he evidently means that it is the most cruel, though necessary, because those on whom it is imposed are least inclined to work. If he had only had greater experience of negro slavery, the hardship would have seemed far less to him. For though the negro is naturally lazy, and too improvident to work for himself, he will often labor for a master with a right good will, and with a loyal devotion to his interests. He is, indeed, often prepared, and made ready for labor, because he feels that, in his master, he has a protector and a friend.

But whether labor be a heavy burden or a light, it must be borne. The good of the lazy race, and the good of the society into which they have been thrown, both require them to bear this burden, which is, after all and at the worst, far lighter than that of a vagabond life. "Nature cries aloud," says the abolitionist, "for freedom." Nature, we reply, demands that man shall work, and her decree must be fulfilled. For ruin, as we have seen, is the bitter fruit of disobedience to her will.

It is now high time that we should notice some of the exalted eulogies bestowed by abolitionists upon freedom; and also the kind of freedom on which these high praises have been so eloquently lavished. This, accordingly, we shall proceed to do in the following section.

Sec. IV. The great benefit supposed by American abolitionists to result to the freed negroes from the British act of emancipation.

We have, in the preceding sections, abundantly seen that the freed colored subjects of the British crown are fast relapsing into the most irretrievable barbarism, while the once flourishing colonies themselves present the most appalling scenes of desolation and distress. Surely it is no wonder that the hurrahing of the English people has ceased. "At the present moment," says the London Times for December 1st, 1852, "if there is one thing in the world that the British public do not like to talk about, or even to think about, it is the condition of the race for whom this great effort was made." Not so with the abolitionists of this country. They still keep up the annual celebration of that great event, the act of emancipation, by which, in the language of one of their number, more than half a million of human beings were "turned from brutes into freemen!"

It is the freedom of the negro which they celebrate. Let us look, then, for a few moments, into the mysteries of this celebration, and see, if we may, the nature of the praises they pour forth in honor of freedom, and the kind of freedom on which they are so passionately bestowed.

We shall not quote from the more insane of the fraternity of abolitionists, for their wild, raving nonsense would, indeed, be unworthy of serious refutation. We shall simply notice the language of Dr. Channing, the scholar-like and the eloquent, though visionary, advocate of British emancipation. Even as early as 1842, in an address delivered on the anniversary of that event, he burst into the following strain of impassioned eulogy: "Emancipation works well, far better than could have been anticipated. To me it could hardly have worked otherwise than well. It banished slavery, that wrong and curse not to be borne. It gave freedom, the dear birthright of humanity; and had it done nothing more, I should have found in it cause for joy. Freedom, simple freedom, is 'in my estimation just, far prized above all price.' I do not stop to ask if the emancipated are better fed and clothed than formerly. THEY ARE FREE; AND THAT ONE WORD CONTAINS A WORLD OF GOOD,[194] unknown to the most pampered slave." And again, he says, "Nature cries aloud for freedom as our proper good, our birthright and our end, and resents nothing so much as its loss."

In these high-sounding praises, which hold up personal freedom as "our proper good," as "our end," it is assumed that man was made for liberty, and not liberty for man. It is, indeed, one of the fundamental errors of the abolitionist to regard freedom as a great substantive good, or as in itself a blessing, and not merely as a relative good. It may be, and indeed often is, an unspeakable benefit, but then it is so only as a means to an end. The end of our existence, the proper good, is the improvement of our intellectual and moral powers, the perfecting of our rational and immortal natures. When freedom subserves this end, it is a good; when it defeats this end, it is an evil. Hence there may be a world of evil as well as a world of good in "this one word."

The wise man adapts the means to the end. It were the very hight of folly to sacrifice the end to the means. No man gives personal freedom to his child because he deems it always and in all cases a good. His heart teaches him a better doctrine when the highest good of his child is concerned. Should we not be permitted, then, to have something of the same feeling in regard to those whom Providence has placed under our care, especially since, having the passions of men, with only the intellects of children, they stand in utmost need of guidance and direction?

As it is their duty to labor, so the law which compels them to do so is not oppressive. It deprives them of the enjoyment of no right, unless, indeed, they may be supposed to have a right to violate their duty. Hence, in compelling the colored population of the South to work, the law does not deprive them of liberty, in the true sense of the word; that is, it does not deprive them of the enjoyment of any natural right. It merely requires them to perform a natural duty.

This cannot be denied. It has been, as we have shown, admitted both by Dr. Wayland and Dr. Channing.[195] But while the end is approved, the means are not liked. Few of the abolitionists are disposed to offer any substitute for our method. They are satisfied merely to pull down and destroy, without the least thought or care in regard to consequences. Dr. Channing has, however, been pleased to propose another method, for securing the industry of the black and the prosperity of the State. Let us then, for a moment, look at this scheme.

The black man, says he, should not be owned. He should work, but not under the control of a master. His overseer should be appointed by the State, and be amenable to the State for the proper exercise of his authority. Now, if this learned and eloquent orator had only looked one inch beneath the surface of his own scheme, he would have seen that it is fraught with the most insuperable difficulties, and that its execution must needs be attended with the most ruinous consequences.

Emancipate the blacks, then, and let the State undertake to work them. In the first place, we must ignore every principle of political economy, and consent to the wildest and most reckless of experiments, ere we can agree that the State should superintend and carry on the agricultural interests of the country. But suppose this difficulty out of the way, on what land would the State cause its slaves to be worked? It would scarcely take possession of the plantations now under improvements; and, setting aside the owners, proceed to cultivate the land. But it must either do this, or else leave these plantations to become worthless for the want of laborers, and open new ones for the benefit of the State! In no point of view could a more utterly chimerical or foolish scheme be well conceived. If we may not be allowed to adhere to our own plan, we beg that some substitute may be proposed which is not fraught with such inevitable destruction to the whole South. Otherwise, we shall fear that these self-styled friends of humanity are more bent on carrying out their own designs than they are on promoting our good.

But what is meant by the freedom of the emancipated slaves, on which so many exalted eulogies have been pronounced? Its first element, it is plain, is a freedom from labor[196]—freedom from the very first law of nature. In one word, its sum and substance is a power on the part of the freed black to act pretty much as he pleases. Now, before we expend oceans of enthusiasm on such a freedom, would it not be well to see how he would be pleased to act?

Dr. Channing has told us, we are aware, of the "indomitable love of liberty," which had been infused into the breast of "fierce barbarians" by their native wildernesses.[197] But we are no great admirers of a liberty which knows no law except its own will, and seeks no end except the gratification of passion.[198] Hence, we have no very great respect for the liberty of fierce barbarians. It would make a hell on earth. "My maxim," exclaims Dr. Channing, "is anything but slavery!" Even slavery, we cry, before a freedom such as his!

This kind of freedom, it should be remembered, was born in France and cradled in the revolution. May it never be forgotten that the "Friends of the Blacks" at Boston had their exact prototypes in "les Amis des Noirs" of Paris. Of this last society Robespierre was the ruling spirit, and Brissot the orator. By the dark machinations of the one,[199] and the fiery eloquence of the other, the French people—la grande nation—were induced, in 1791, to proclaim the principle of equality to and for the free blacks of St. Domingo. This beautiful island, then the brightest and most precious jewel in the crown of France, thus became the first of the West Indies in which the dreadful experiment of a forced equality was tried. The authors of that experiment were solemnly warned of the horrors into which it would inevitably plunge both the whites and the blacks of the island. Yet, firm and immovable as death, Robespierre sternly replied, then "Perish the colonies rather than sacrifice one iota of our principles!"[200] The magnificent colony of St. Domingo did not quite perish, it is true; but yet, as every one, except the philanthropic "Ami des Noirs" of the present day, still remembers with a thrill of horror, the entire white population soon melted, like successive flakes of snow, in the furnace of that freedom which a Robespierre had kindled.

The atrocities of this awful massacre have had, as the historian has said,[201] no parallel in the annals of human crime. "The negroes," says Alison, "marched with spiked infants on their spears instead of colors; they sawed asunder the male prisoners, and violated the females on the dead bodies of their husbands." The work of death, thus completed with such outbursts of unutterable brutality, constituted and closed the first act in the grand drama of Haytien freedom.

But equality was not yet established. The colored men, or mulattoes, beheld, with an eye burning with jealousy, the superior power and ascendency of the blacks. Hence arose the horrors of a civil war. Equality had been proclaimed, and anarchy produced. In this frightful chaos, the ambitious mulattoes, whose insatiable desire of equality had first disturbed the peace of the island, perished miserably beneath the vengeance of the very slaves whom they had themselves roused from subjection and elevated into irresistible power. Thus ended the second act of the horrible drama.

This bloody discord, this wild chaos of disgusting brutalities, of course terminated not in freedom, but in a military despotism. With the subsequent wars and fearful destruction of human life our present inquiry has nothing to do. We must confine our attention to the point before us, namely, the kind of freedom achieved by the blacks of St. Domingo. We have witnessed the two great manifestations of that freedom; we shall now look at its closing scene. This we shall, for obvious reasons, present in the language of an English author.

"An independent negro state," says he, "was thus established in Hayti; but the people have not derived all the benefits which they sanguinely expected. Released from their compulsory toil, they have not yet learned to subject themselves to the restraints of regular industry. The first absolute rulers made the most extraordinary efforts to overcome the indolence which soon began to display itself. The Code Rural directed that the laborer should fix himself on a certain estate, which he was never afterward to quit without a passport from the government. His hours of labor and rest were fixed by statute. The whip, at first permitted, was ultimately prohibited; but as every military officer was allowed to chastise with a thick cane, and almost every proprietor held a commission, the laborer was not much relieved. By these means Mr. Mackenzie supposes that the produce of 1806 was raised to about a third of that of 1789. But such violent regulations could not continue to be enforced amid the succeeding agitations, and under a republican regime. Almost all traces of laborious culture were soon obliterated; large tracts, which had been one entire sugar garden, presented now only a few scattered plantations."[202]

Thus the lands were divided out among the officers of the army, while the privates were compelled to cultivate the soil under their former military commanders, clothed with more than "a little brief authority." No better could have been expected except by fools or fanatics. The blacks might preach equality, it is true, but yet, like the more enlightened ruffians of Paris, they would of course take good care not to practice what they had preached. Hence, by all the horrors of their bloody resolution, they only effected a change of masters. The white man had disappeared, and the black man, one of their own race and color, had assumed his place and his authority. And of all masters, it is well known, the naturally servile are the most cruel. "The earth," says Solomon, "cannot bear a servant when he reigneth."[203]

"The sensual and the dark rebel in vain: Slaves by their own compulsion, in mad game They burst their manacles, to wear the name Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain."

COLERIDGE.

Thus "the world of good" they sought was found, most literally, in "the word;" for the word, the name of freedom, was all they had achieved—at least of good. Poverty, want, disease, and crime, were the substantial fruits of their boasted freedom.

In 1789, the sugar exported was 672,000,000 pounds; in 1806, it was 47,516,531 pounds; in 1825, it was 2020 pounds; in 1832, it was 0 pounds. If history had not spoken, we might have safely inferred, from this astounding decline of industry, that the morals of the people had suffered a fearful deterioration. But we are not left to inference. We are informed, by the best authorities,[204] that their "morals are exceedingly bad;" and that under the reign of liberty, as it is called, their condition has, in all respects, become far worse than it was before. "There appears every reason to apprehend," says James Franklin, "that it will recede into irrecoverable insignificance, poverty, and disorder."[205]

Mr. T. Babington Macaulay has, we are aware, put forth certain notions on the subject of liberty, which are exactly in accordance with the views and the spirit of the abolitionists, as well as with the cut-throat philosophy of the Parisian philanthropists of the revolution. As these notions are found in one of his juvenile productions, and illustrated by "a pretty story" out of Ariosto, we should not deem it worth while to notice them, if they had not been retained in the latest edition of his Miscellanies. But for this circumstance, we should pass them by as the rhetorical flourish of a young man who, in his most mature productions, is often more brillant than profound.

"Ariosto," says he, "tells a pretty story of a fairy, who, by some mysterious law of her nature, was condemned to appear at certain seasons in the form of a foul and poisonous snake. Those who injured her during the period of her disguise were forever excluded from participation in the blessings which she bestowed. But to those who, in spite of her loathsome aspect, pitied and protected her, she afterward revealed herself in the beautiful and celestial form which was natural to her, accompanied their steps, granted all their wishes, filled their houses with wealth, made them happy in love, and victorious in war. Such a spirit is Liberty. At times she takes the form of a hateful reptile. She grovels, she hisses, she stings. But wo to those who in disgust shall venture to crush her! And happy are those who, having dared to receive her in her degraded and frightful shape, shall at length be rewarded by her in the time of her beauty and her glory."

For aught we know, all this may be very fine poetry, and may deserve the place which it has found in some of our books on rhetoric. But yet this beautiful passage will—like the fairy whose charms it celebrates—be so surely transformed into a hateful snake or venomous toad, that it should not be swallowed without an antidote. Robespierre, Danton, Marat, Barriere, and the black Dessalines, took this hateful, hissing, stinging, maddening reptile to their bosoms, and they are welcome to its rewards. But they mistook the thing: it was not liberty transformed; it was tyranny unbound, the very scourge of hell, and Satan's chief instrument of torture to a guilty world. It was neither more nor less than Sin, despising GOD, and warring against his image on the earth.

We do not doubt—nay, we firmly believe—that in the veritable history of the universe, analogous changes have taken place. But then these awful changes were not mere fairy tales. They are recorded in the word of God. When Lucifer, the great bearer of light, himself was free, he sought equality with God, and thence became a hateful, hissing serpent in the dust. But he was not fully cursed, until "by devilish art" he reached "the organs of man's fancy," and with them forged the grand illusion that equality alone is freedom.

For even sinless, happy Eve was made to feel herself oppressed, until, with keen desire of equality with gods, "forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she ate:"—

"Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of wo, That all was lost."

How much easier, then, to effect the ruin of poor, fallen man, by stirring up this fierce desire of equality with discontented thoughts and vain hopes of unattainable good! It is this dark desire, and not liberty, which, in its rage, becomes the "poisonous snake;" and, though decked in fine, allegoric, glowing garb, it is still the loathsome thing, the "false worm," that turned God's Paradise itself into a blighted world.

If Mr. Macaulay had only distinguished between liberty and license, than which no two things in the universe are more diametrically opposed to each other, his passion for fine rhetoric would not have betrayed him into so absurd a conceit respecting the diverse forms of freedom. Liberty is—as we have seen—the bright emanation of reason in the form of law; license is the triumph of blind passion over all law and order. Hence, if we would have liberty, the great deep of human passion must be restrained. For this purpose, as Mr. Burke has said, there must be power somewhere; and if there be not moral power within, there must be physical power without. Otherwise, the restraints will be too weak; the safeguards of liberty will give way, and the passions of men will burst into anarchy, the most frightful of all the forms of tyranny. Shall we call this liberty? Shall we seek the secure enjoyment of natural rights in a wild reign of lawless terror? As well might we seek the pure light of heaven in the bottomless pit. It is, indeed, a most horrible desecration of the sacred name of liberty, to apply it either to the butcheries and brutalities of the French Revolution, or to the more diabolical massacres of St. Domingo. If such were freedom, it would, in sober truth, be more fitly symbolized by ten thousand hissing serpents than by a single poisonous snake; and by all on earth, as in heaven, it should be abhorred. Hence, those pretended friends and advocates of freedom, who would thus fain transmute her form divine into such horribly distorted shapes, are with her enemies confederate in dark, misguided league.

Sec. V. The consequences of abolition to the South.

"We have had experience enough in our own colonies," says the Prospective Review, for November, 1852, "not to wish to see the experiment tried elsewhere on a larger scale." Now this, though it comes to us from across the Atlantic, really sounds like the voice of genuine philanthropy. Nor do we wish to see the experiment, which has brought down such wide-spread ruin on all the great interests of St. Domingo and the British colonies, tried in this prosperous and now beautiful land of ours. It requires no prophet to foresee the awful consequences of such an experiment on the lives, the liberties, the fortunes, and the morals, of the people of the Southern States. Let us briefly notice some of these consequences.

Consider, in the first place, the vast amount of property which would be destroyed by the madness of such an experiment. According to the estimate of Mr. Clay, "the total value of the slave property in the United States is twelve hundred millions of dollars," all of which the people of the South are expected to sacrifice on the altar of abolitionism. It only moves the indignation of the abolitionist that we should for one moment hesitate. "I see," he exclaims, "in the immenseness of the value of the slaves, the enormous amount of the robbery committed on them. I see 'twelve hundred millions of dollars' seized, extorted by unrighteous force."[206] But, unfortunately, his passions are so furious, that his mind no sooner comes into contact with any branch of the subject of slavery, than instantly, as if by a flash of lightning, his opinion is formed, and he begins to declaim and denounce as if reason should have nothing to do with the question. He does not even allow himself time for a single moment's serious reflection. Nay, resenting the opinion of the most sagacious of our statesmen as an insult to his understanding, he deems it beneath his dignity even to make an attempt to look beneath the surface of the great problem on which he condescends to pour the illuminations of his genius. Ere we accept his oracles as inspired, we beg leave to think a little, and consider their intrinsic value.

Twelve hundred millions of dollars extorted by unrighteous force! What enormous robbery! Now, let it be borne in mind, that this is the language of a man who, as we have seen, has—in one of his lucid intervals—admitted that it is right to apply force to compel those to work who will not labor from rational motives. Such is precisely the application of the force which now moves his righteous indignation!

This force, so justly applied, has created this enormous value of twelve hundred millions of dollars. It has neither seized, nor extorted this vast amount from others; it has simply created it out of that which, but for such force, would have been utterly valueless. And if experience teaches any thing, then, no sooner shall this force be withdrawn, than the great value in question will disappear. It will not be restored; it will be annihilated. The slaves—now worth so many hundred millions of dollars—would become worthless to themselves, and nuisances to society. No free State in the Union would be willing to receive them—or a considerable portion of them—into her dominions. They would be regarded as pests, and, if possible, everywhere expelled from the empires of freemen.

Our lands, like those of the British West Indies, would become almost valueless for the want of laborers to cultivate them. The most beautiful garden-spots of the sunny South would, in the course of a few years, be turned into a jungle, with only here and there a forlorn plantation. Poverty and distress, bankruptcy and ruin, would everywhere be seen. In one word, the condition of the Southern States would, in all material respects, be like that of the once flourishing British colonies in which the fatal experiment of emancipation has been tried.

Such are some of the fearful consequences of emancipation. But these are not all. The ties that would be severed, and the sympathies crushed, by emancipation, are not at all understood by abolitionists. They are, indeed, utter strangers to the moral power which these ties and sympathies now exert for the good of the inferior race. "Our patriarchal scheme of domestic servitude," says Governor Hammond, "is indeed well calculated to awaken the higher and finer feelings of our nature. It is not wanting in its enthusiasm and its poetry. The relations of the most beloved and honored chiefs, and the most faithful and admiring subjects, which, from the time of Homer, have been the theme of song, are frigid and unfelt, compared with those existing between the master and his slaves; who served his father, and rocked his cradle, or have been born in his household, and look forward to serve his children; who have been through life the props of his fortune, and the objects of his care; who have partaken of his griefs, and looked to him for comfort in their own; whose sickness he has so frequently watched over and relieved; whose holidays he has so often made joyous by his bounties and his presence; for whose welfare, when absent, his anxious solicitude never ceases, and whose hearty and affectionate greetings never fail to welcome him home. In this cold, calculating, ambitious world of ours, there are few ties more heart-felt, or of more benignant influence, than those which mutually bind the master and the slave, under our ancient system, handed down from the father of Israel."

Let the slaves be emancipated then, and, in one or two generations, the white people of the South would care as little for the freed blacks among us, as the same class of persons are now cared for by the white people of the North. The prejudice of race would be restored with unmitigated violence. The blacks are contented in servitude, so long as they find themselves excluded from none of the privileges of the condition to which they belong; but let them be delivered from the authority of their masters, and they will feel their rigid exclusion from the society of the whites and all participation in their government. They would become clamorous for "their inalienable rights." Three millions of freed blacks, thus circumstanced, would furnish the elements of the most horrible civil war the world has ever witnessed.

These elements would soon burst in fury on the land. There was no civil war in Jamaica, it is true, after the slaves were emancipated; but this was because the power of Great Britain was over the two parties, and held them in subjection. It would be far otherwise here. For here there would be no power to check—while there would be infernal agencies at work to promote—civil discord and strife. As Robespierre caused it to be proclaimed to the free blacks of St. Domingo that they were naturally entitled to all the rights and privileges of citizens; as Mr. Seward proclaimed the same doctrine to the free blacks of New York; so there would be kind benefactors enough to propagate the same sentiments among our colored population. They would be instigated, in every possible way, to claim their natural equality with the whites; and, by every diabolical art, their bad passions would be inflamed. If the object of such agitators were merely to stir up scenes of strife and blood, it might be easily attained; but if it were to force the blacks into a social and political equality with the whites, it would most certainly and forever fail. For the government of these Southern States was, by our fathers, founded on the VIRTUE and the INTELLIGENCE of the people, and there we intend it shall stand. The African has neither part nor lot in the matter.

We cannot suppose, for a moment, that abolitionists would be in the slightest degree moved by the awful consequences of emancipation. Poverty, ruin, death, are very small items with these sublime philanthropists. They scarcely enter into their calculations. The dangers of a civil war—though the most fearful the world has ever seen—lie quite beneath the range of their humanity.

Indeed, we should expect our argument from the consequences of emancipation to be met by a thorough-going abolitionist with the words,—"Perish the Southern States rather than sacrifice one iota of our principles!" We ask them not to sacrifice their principles to us; nor do we intend that they shall sacrifice us to their principles. For if perish we must, it shall be as a sacrifice to our own principles, and not to theirs.

NOTE.—It has not fallen within the scope of our design to consider the effects of emancipation, and of the consequent destruction of so large an amount of property, on the condition and prosperity of the world. Otherwise it might easily have been shown that every civilized portion of the globe would feel the shock. This point has been very happily, though briefly, illustrated by Governor Hammond, in his "Letters on Slavery."

Nor has it formed any part of our purpose, in the following section, to discuss the influence of American slavery on the future destiny and civilization of Africa. This subject has been ably discussed by various writers; and especially by an accomplished divine, the Rev. William N. Pendleton, in a discourse published in the "Virginian Colonizationist," for September, 1854.

Sec. VI. Elevation of the Blacks by Southern slavery.

The abolitionists, with the most singular unanimity, perseveringly assert that Southern slavery degrades its subjects "into brutes." This assertion fills us with amazement. If it were possible, we would suppose, in a judgment of charity, that its authors knew nothing of the history of Africa or of the condition of our slaves. But such ignorance is not possible. On the other hand, we find it equally impossible tobelieve that so many men and women—the very lights of abolitionism—could knowingly utter so palpable a falsehood. Thus we are forced to the conclusion, that the authors of this charge are so completely carried away by a blind hatred of slavery, that they do not care to keep their words within the sacred bounds of eternal truth. This seems to be the simple, melancholy fact. The great question with them seems to be, not what is true or what is false, but what will most speedily effect the destruction of Southern slavery. Any thing that seems to answer this purpose is blindly and furiously wielded by them. The Edinburgh Review, in a high-wrought eulogy on an American authoress, says that she assails slavery with arrows "poisoned by truth." Her words, it is true, are dipped in flaming poison; but that poison is not truth. The truth is never poison.

The native African could not be degraded. Of the fifty millions of inhabitants of the continent of Africa, it is estimated that forty millions were slaves. The master had the power of life and death over the slave; and, in fact, his slaves were often fed, and killed, and eaten, just as we do with oxen and sheep in this country. Nay, the hind and fore-quarters of men, women, and children, might there be seen hung on the shambles and exposed for sale! Their women were beasts of burden; and, when young, they were regarded as a great delicacy by the palate of their pampered masters. A warrior would sometimes take a score of young females along with him, in order to enrich his feasts and regale his appetite. He delighted in such delicacies. As to his religion, it was even worse than his morals; or rather, his religion was a mass of the most disgusting immoralities. His notion of a God, and the obscene acts by which that notion was worshiped, are too shocking to be mentioned. The vilest slave that ever breathed the air of a Christian land could not begin to conceive the horrid iniquities of such a life. And yet, in the face of all this, we are told—yea, we are perseveringly and eternally told—that "the African has been degraded into a brute" by American slavery! Indeed, if such creatures ever reach the level of simple brutality at all, is it not evident they must be elevated, and not degraded, to it?

The very persons who make the above charge know better. Their own writings furnish the most incontestable proof that they know better. A writer in the Edinburgh Review,[207] for example, has not only asserted that "slavery degrades its subjects into brutes," but he has the audacity to declare, in regard to slavery in the United States, that "we do not believe that such oppression is to be found in any other part of the world, civilized or uncivilized. We do not believe that such oppression ever existed before." Yet even this unprincipled writer has, in the very article containing this declaration, shown that he knows better. He has shown that he knows that the African has been elevated and improved by his servitude in the United States. We shall proceed to convict him out of his own mouth.

"The African slave-trade was frightful," says he; "but its prey were savages, accustomed to suffering and misery, and to endure them with patience almost amounting to apathy. The victims of the American slave-trade have been bred in a highly-cultivated community. Their dispositions have been softened, their intellects sharpened, and their sensibilities excited, by society, by Christianity, and by all the ameliorating but enervating influences of civilization. The savage submits to be enslaved himself, or have his wife or his child carried off by his enemies, as merely a calamity. His misery is not embittered by indignation. He suffers only what—if he could—he would inflict. He cannot imagine a state of society in which there shall not be masters and slaves, kidnapping and man-selling, coffles and slave-traders, or in which any class shall be exempt from misfortunes which appear to him to be incidental to humanity."

Thus, according to this very sagacious, honest, consistent writer, it matters little what you do with the native African: he has no moral sense; he feels no wrong; he suffers only what he would inflict. But when you come to deal with the American slave, or, as this writer calls him, "the civilized Virginian," it is quite another thing! His dispositions have been softened, his intellect sharpened, and his sensibilities roused to a new life, by society and by Christianity! And yet, according to this very writer, this highly civilized Virginian is the man who, by American slavery, has been degraded from the native African into a brute! We dismiss his lawless savage, and his equally lawless pen, from our further consideration.

We proceed, in like manner, to condemn Dr. Channing out of his own mouth. He has repeatedly asserted that slavery among us degrades its subjects into brutes. Now hear him on the other side of this question.

"The European race," says he, "have manifested more courage, enterprise, invention; but in the dispositions which Christianity particularly honors, how inferior are they to the African? When I cast my eyes over our Southern region,—the land of bowie-knives, lynch-law, and duels, of 'chivalry,' 'honor,' and revenge; and when I consider that Christianity is declared to be a spirit of charity, 'which seeketh not its own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and endureth all things,' and is also declared to be 'the wisdom from above,' which is 'first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits;' can I hesitate in deciding to which of the races in that land Christianity is most adapted, and in which its noblest disciples are most likely to be reared?"[208]