E. M. Griffing to Frederick Douglass, August 5, 1851
"Fire of the Flint."
Dear Fred:— The following morceau is herewith copied for your use, being some extracts I have been allowed to take from a letter to a gentleman of this place, by his father in Rhode Island, a veteran of eighty-four ; who, notwithstanding age, still writes a beautiful hand, while his language breathes in every word, the soul of '76. It scarcely need be added, that father Stillman is a Democrat of the ancient Jeffersonian school.
Yours, &c.,
E. M. Griffing.
Rockton, N.Y., Aug. 5th
"Westerley, April 15, 1851.
"My Dear Son:—We have heard nothing from you in so long a time, that we are anxious to know about your health, and how you are getting along in this wicked world—yes, in these wicked United States. We used to talk about the free States, but alas! there is no free State left; Congress has made Slave States of every one! Our Northern dough-faces have all turned to, to help the South maintain slavery - and that too, of the very worst kind.
"Truly, the land is filled with violence; and well may we inquire, "Will not the God of JUSTICE be avenged on such a nation as this?" Indeed, I should not greatly wonder, if, in the fierceness of His wrath, He should pour down on us, as once on Sodom and Gomorrah, a shower of fire and brimstone . . . Some praying men are left among us yet, but how is it with the most of them? They
pray and preach for money; and I doubt not, those might be found, who, (if the government so ordered,) would full as soon pray openly for a further extension of oppression, and its consequent wickedness, as anything.
I remain, Dear Ezra, Your affectionate father,
Wm. Stillwell."
This octogenarian curiosity closes with two ACROSTICS, which the old gentleman has amused himself by writing on the names of certain grand-children, the subject of one being the rage for California gold, and the other (here appended) some hasty rhymings on
THE FUGITIVE SLAVE BILL.
"Out boasted land of liberty, can be our boast no more,
Sunk deep in shameful tyranny, from east to western shore!
Catch any freeman in the land, wherever he is seen,
And send him quickly off in chains, to reckless New Orleans;
Receive a thousand dollars there, for such a glorious prize.
And never mind the widow's tears, nor hear the orphan's cries!
Let every dweller in the land, that wears a darker skin,
Bolt fast his door, and keep himself closely concealed within;
Except he run to Canada, and get on British strand,
Return forever here no more, to see his native land.
'Tis now a crime to pity him, or let him go to bed,
To give him food or water, or place to rest his head!
A man that votes for such a law, I fain would have him know,
No man could do so, till his face was smeared all up with dough.
Now to the ballot-box I'll go, and there will let him see,
Except he wash off all that dough, he's not the man for me;
Repent the wicked deed you've done, and VOTE ALL MEN ARE FREE!"
W. S.
* Oscar Albert Tanner.