Sunny Memories Of Foreign Lands, Volume 1 by Harriet Beecher Stowe
page 76 of 409 (18%)
page 76 of 409 (18%)
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master, and the poor object is one doomed, in his own person, and in his
posterity, to live without knowledge, and without capacity to attain any thing which he may call his own. He has only to labor, that another may reap the fruits.' [Hear, hear!] Mark! this is from the sacred bench of justice, pronounced by one of the first intellects in America! 'There is nothing else which can operate to produce the effect; the power of the master must be absolute, to render the submission of the slave perfect. [Hear, hear!] It is inherent in the relation of master and slave;' and then he adds those never-to-be-forgotten words, 'We cannot allow the right of the master to come under discussion in the courts of justice. The slave must be made sensible that there is no appeal from his master, and that his master's power is in no instance usurped; that these rights are conferred by the laws of man, at least, if not by the law of God.' [Loud cries of 'Shame, shame!'] This is the mode in which we are to regard these two classes of beings, both created by the same God, and both redeemed by the same Savior as ourselves, and destined to the same immortality! The judgment, on appeal, was reversed; but, God be praised; there is another appeal, and that appeal we make to the highest of all imaginable courts, where God is the judge, where mercy is the advocate, and where unerring truth will pronounce the decision![Protracted cheering.] There are some who are pleased to tell us that there is an inferiority in the race! That is untrue. [Cheers.] But we are not here to inquire whether our black brethren will become Shakspeares or Herschels. [Hear, hear!] I ask, are they immortal beings? [Great applause.] Do our adversaries, say no? I ask them, then, to show me one word in the handwriting of God which has thus levelled them with the brute beasts. [Hear, hear!] Let us bear in mind those words of our blessed Savior--'Whosoever shall offend one of these little ones who believe in me, it were better that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were cast into the depths of the sea.' [Loud cheers.] |
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