Autographs for Freedom, by Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Thirty-five Other Eminent Writers
History
Autographs for Freedom, by Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Thirty-five Other Eminent Writers
Antislavery movements -- United States; Slavery -- United States
As our traveller gazed upon him, he almost trembled at the thought of
his dangerous intrusion. Still he could not quit the place. He had long
desired to sound the mysterious depths of the thoughts and feelings of a
slave. He was not therefore, disposed to allow so providential an
opportunity to pass unimproved. He resolved to hear more; so he listened
again for those mellow and mournful accents which, he says made such an
impression upon him as can never be erased. He did not have to wait
long. There came another gush from the same full fountain; now bitter,
and now sweet. Scathing denunciations of the cruelty and injustice of
slavery; heart-touching narrations of his own personal suffering,
intermingled with prayers to the God of the oppressed for help and
deliverance, were followed by presentations of the dangers and
difficulties of escape, and formed the burden of his eloquent
utterances; but his high resolution clung to him,—for he ended each
speech by an emphatic declaration of his purpose to be free. It seemed
that the very repetition of this, imparted a glow to his countenance.
The hope of freedom seemed to sweeten, for a season, the bitter cup of
slavery, and to make it, for a time, tolerable; for when in the very
whirlwind of anguish,—when his heart’s cord seemed screwed up to
snapping tension, hope sprung up and soothed his troubled spirit.
Fitfully he would exclaim, “How can I leave her? Poor thing! what can
she do when I am gone? Oh! oh! ’tis impossible that I can leave poor
Susan!”
A brief pause intervened. Our traveller raised his head, and saw again
the sorrow-stricken slave. His eye was fixed upon the ground. The strong
man staggered under a heavy load. Recovering himself, he argued thus
aloud: “All is uncertain here. To-morrow’s sun may not rise before I am
sold, and separated from her I love. What, then, could I do for her? I
should be in more hopeless slavery, and she no nearer to
liberty,—whereas if I were free,—my arms my own, I might devise the
means to rescue her.”
This said, Madison cast around a searching glance, as if the thought of
being overheard had flashed across his mind. He said no more, but, with
measured steps, walked away, and was lost to the eye of our traveller
amidst the wildering woods.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account