Horatio N. Spooner to Frederick Douglass, February, 1852
A Model Republic.—A Picture.
Friend Douglass:—I trust that no formal apology will be required of me, if I crave a space in your paper for the expression of a few passing thoughts, seeing they are my honest convictions; for I can conceive of no period in the history of the human race, when, more than at the present time, it might be expected that, if men should hold their peace, the stones would cry out, or the "mighty dead," sleeping in their silent graves, would wake to consciousness, and come forth to lift up their voices in terrible rebuke of those who vainly profess to offer homage at the altar of their enshrined glory.
Not unfrequently are we reminded with an air of mingled piety, pride and patriotism, that we live in a land of gospel light—a land of civil and religious liberty; that it is the land of the free, and the home of the brave—a great country—a great and growing republic—a mighty nation.
Now, with your indulgence, I will, with as much brevity as practicable, consider these proud propositions, although I cannot promise to be at all flattering.
It seems to me that, as a nation, we should not be too easily persuaded that we are an exceedingly great and surpassingly glorious people; for, although we are permitted to stand as it were upon the shoulders of illustrious ancestors, still, if we are false to the light that is in us, false to the great principles of liberty, which those worthies lived and labored, suffered and died to establish, we shall prove to be a nation of the merest pigmies, morally speaking, after all, and the bright mantles of our father's glory must set insecurely on our degenerate shoulders, should we pretend to wear them.
We live in a land of whips and chains, pistols, bowie-knives, rifles and blood-hounds. Here Justice does not reign. Reign! No! Justice herself has been kidnapped, and doomed to sit in iron chains! Meanwhile her highest officers, to find her habitation, have been obliged to stoop before oppression, and humbly kiss the dust! Law, even, is not supreme. Slavery is the ruling demon in our nation. Slavery overrides all that is worthy to be dignified with the name of law, as easily as the fugitive "bill of abominations" overrides the moral convictions of the people!
And why should we boast of our gospel light? Where is the merit, if, while the light is shing round about us, we madly close our eyes against it, and impiously repudiate the Higher Law?
This a land of civil and religious liberty! How gross the libel, and how false, upon those sacred words, if we attempt to apply them to our dishonored, slave-catching, slave-making nation!
The land of the free, and the home of the brave! And where may we find the evidences of our freedom and bravery?
"More savage far
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea."
We have fought battles of Slavery in Florida, and in Mexico! Is this counted to us for bravery? Alas! and do we glory in our shame? We hay hunt the trembling, panting bondman through the length and breadth of our vast domain, with none to let or hinder. Such is our freedom! Is this the democratic idea of "the largest liberty?"
"I would much rather be myself the slave,
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him."
Can it be that this slave hunting freedom is the grand idea for whose realization the proud "model republic" has been striving for the space of three quarters of a century?
How humiliating! "This is a great country," Ah! but its greatness, like that of Caesar, is stained with blood!
A great and growing republic! A great republic, whose great idea is—Slavery! A growing republic, whose growing idea, if it have any, is the idea of growing slaves for the market - human chattels for the auction block! Are not we "a peculiar people, zealous of (peculiar) works," for the exclusive benefit of a "peculiar institution."
A mighty nation. Be it so. But a greater, because a truer, prophet than Daniel has said that "righteousness exalteth a nation." In view of this fact, what is there to interrupt our deepest humility as a nation? Truly, there can be no occasion for a national jubilee just now; and I am of opinion that, with perfect safety, and with the utmost propriety, we might observe at least a thousand fasts to one thanksgiving! Moreover, if the Fourth of July were blotted out, and no longer numbered among the days of the year, one consolation would be left us in our bereavement. The sun of that day would no more shine on the sin and shame of our guilty nation.
Finally, if this land of the free and home of the brave—if, in "free Massachusetts," and on the rock of the Pilgrims, where the fires were kindled, which for us warmed liberty into life—if, on the hallowed spot, the humane and benevolent, in certain cases, (or in any case,) may not feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and afford a cup of cold water and a night's lodging to a poor, helpless, suffering fellow-creature, without being liable therefore to fine and imprisonment, or death for "treason;" then, in the name of humanity, what is the worth of our boasted gospel light? our civil and religious liberty? our greatness and glory, power and might? And where is the man that is a man, who would not most willingly forego all these fustian glories and honors for the privilege of performing one Christian act untrammelled by the Fugitive Slave Law? for the poor privilege of doing by others, as we would that others might do by us, in an exchange of circumstances?
"Sons of the Pilgrims! ye whose pride
Of [illegible] blood, makes all your boasting!
Your fathers brave for Freedom died—
On Slavery's altar ye are roasting!
Yours for universal freedom,
Horatio N. Spooner.
Plymouth, Feb. 1852.