Here is an array of English testimony that cannot fail to convince every one that slavery exists to the present moment in the English dominions, in a form far more aggravated than African slavery in the United States. How is it then, that she has been, and is to the present time, making ceaseless and untiring efforts to exaggerate the sufferings and the disabilities of the African race in our midst, while there is so much suffering and oppression among her own subjects? Is it not an, extraordinary circumstance, that a nation who has expended so much blood and treasure in invading the rights of others — a nation that to the present hour tolerates and legalizes slavery in its worst possible forms — or rather, in every possible form; should affect so much solicitude about its extinction in a foreign government? In view of all these facts, is it not a humiliating circumstance; or rather, is it not an outrageous insult to the American people, that Madam Stowe, after having basely caricatured, slandered and misrepresented her own country, to flatter and please the English people, and their Northern allies in the United States; should with her ill-gotten gains fly across the ocean, to join the slanderers, denunciators and libelers of our beloved country? The world can’t produce another instance of such insulting, arrogant, bare-faced knavery and hypocrisy! A thousand reflections force themselves on my mind, and had I a voice as seven-fold thunder, and could I congregate around me in one solid phalanx, every man, woman and child, on the North American portion of this continent; I would warn them of their danger. I would direct their attention to the history of nations wrecked, torn to pieces, and almost obliterated from the face of the earth by internal feuds and dissentions — by envy, jealousy and hatred; and that not unfrequently instigated by foreign powers. I would point to the catalogue of crimes — the commotions, the dissentions, the tumults, the strife — the envy, the jealousy, the hatred — the wars, the butcheries and bloodsheds, that have been incited by visionary, bigoted, fanatical religionists. I would inculcate the fear and love of God; the love of our country, and the love of our neighbor as paramount virtues; and meekness, gentleness and patience, as Christian graces of the first importance; and resignation to the will of God, and obedience and submission to civil authorities, as the duty of all good citizens. And to the ladies I would say, return home ladies, and love your husbands, nurse your babies, attend to your household affairs; and recollect, that nothing adorns your sex so much, as the ornament of a meek, a quiet spirit. I would also advise you to read your Bibles and other good books, and never again to read or write another novel. And, dear ladies, if you have hitherto worn either bloomers or breeches, lay them aside. I must return from this digression to the subject under discussion.
SECTION III.
It was said a few years ago, that one of the nobility of England openly declared, that the sovereigns of Europe had determined upon the destruction of the government of the United States; and that they expected to accomplish their infamous designs by involving us in “discord, disunion, anarchy and civil war.” He is reported moreover to have said, that they expected to accomplish this, by flooding our country with their vicious refuse pauper population, and by agitating the subject of slavery among us. Unfortunately for us, England in her nefarious designs upon our country, has always found too many allies, aiders and abettors, in our midst. I will not say, that Mrs. Stowe had designs upon the liberties of her country, when she wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin; but this I will say, that in writing that book, she performed an acceptable service for the enemies of her country, for which it seems, from recent demonstrations, they are profoundly thankful. Be it as it may, she wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin; the work was republished in England, and we are credibly informed, that it has almost supplanted the Bible in that country. Travelers tell us, that nothing else is talked about throughout the British dominions. They received it, I suppose, as a revelation from heaven — revelation of higher authority than the Bible, for the reason, that it is of more recent origin. Well, she is invited to England by the nation en masse; and if the Saviour of the world should perchance make his advent into the British Isles, on the day that she lands in that country, I think it highly probable, that he would be forced a second time to take lodgings in a manger. He might wander through the country unnoticed and unknown, while the whole nation were draggling after Mrs. Stowe’s petticoat. He might again be forced to exclaim, “the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head” to rest. No Marthas and Marys would be found in that reprobate country, to minister to him. If so, they would be found among the “lowly,” and we understand that they have no part or lot in Mrs. Stowe’s visit. No! no! she has made money enough by her “life among the lowly” and now she is preparing to take her stand among the aristocracy of England.
We have had from time to time all sorts of isms and schisms in this world; and Yankee ingenuity has furnished us, withal, with a great variety of notions and notable things; among which, wooden nutmegs, wooden bacon hams, horn gun flints and wooden seeds of different kinds, are not the least remarkable. We certainly have had isms enough to indulge the whims and caprices, and to suit the peculiar predilections, prejudices and prepossessions of all concerned; but it appears from present indications, that we are about to have a new ism forced upon us, whether we will or no. I allude to Uncle Tomism, which I beg leave to call Tomism, as it will sound rather more euphonious. It is rumored that this new sect, viz., the Tomites, have spread with great rapidity through the New England States within the past year; and it is moreover reported, that they have many adherents in other parts of the Union. It must have been the rapid spread of Mormonism that first suggested the idea to Mrs. Stowe, the founder of this sect; for like Jo. Smith, she has furnished her adherents with a novel for their Bible; and it is said that a Key to its mysteries is forthcoming. In order that nothing should be wanting for their enlightenment, edification and comfort, a distinguished D.D. of a neighboring city, has furnished them with an elaborate Commentary. The Key and Commentary I have not seen, but their Bible, viz., Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I have read. However popular Tomism may be in America, it is said to be more so in England. It appears that this Woolyism, alias, Tomism, has spread with unparalleled rapidity throughout, the British domains, and Mrs. Stowe has hastened to that country to instruct them in the doctrines and mysteries of this New Revelation. I would suggest to the English nation, that they suffer Mrs. Stowe to make her debut on the lord chancellor’s woolsack. Black wool, of course, would be most appropriate on this occasion, and withal, most significant of her mission.
However the English nation may shed their crocodile tears over the woes and wrongs of the African race in our country; we know that they are a nation of murderers, thieves and robbers. Their religion is little else, but legalized hypocrisy. Justice and humanity never yet found a place in their moral code. It looks well in them to talk about oppression in other lands; but so it is the world over. Men as vile as crime can make them, will arrogate to themselves the right to judge and censure others. The history of England for centuries past, is but a record of crime — of wars, butcheries and bloodshed — rapine, injustice, oppression and inhumanity. But she will talk about negro slavery in the United States notwithstanding — and of liberty, and justice, and truth, and righteousness, and the rights of man! “Thou hypocrite, first cast the beam out of thine own eye.”
Perhaps, my English friends, while Mrs. Stowe is in your midst, you had as well suffer her to look around among your “lowly.” Perchance she might find material for another novel. Ah! that would be cruel indeed. Well, it would — but then it might turn out a good speculation “among the lowly;” and a Yankee is always ready for that. Well, seriously, my good friends across the water, you had better not trust this lady too far. We are aware that when you invited her to your country, it was no part of your design, that she should spend any portion of her time among your servants. Well, then, I would advise you as a friend, not to trust Yankee cupidity too far. Watch the lady well, otherwise she might yet make a
little money by a “life” among your “lowly.”
But the English nation have had another object in view, in fanning this flame of discord among us, by keeping up the slavery agitation. It was to conceal their own dark and damnable deeds. It is the universal practice of those who are guilty of criminal acts, to bring railing accusations against others, in order to divert public attention from themselves. So it has been with England. She has grown rich by injustice and oppression. Hence, her attempt to divert the attention of the world from herself to her rival, the United States. We know that it is a common occurrence for persons to attempt to conceal their own crimes, by directing attention to the crimes of others — to justify themselves, by making the impression, that others are just as bad as they are. It has often brought to mind an altercation I once witnessed between a couple of boys. One remarked to the other, that he was a thief. “I don’t care,” (replied the little urchin,) “if I am a tief; you are a tief too.” So it has been with old mother England, she knew well, that she was a “tief” but she did not care, provided she could make it appear that her daughter, the United States, was a “tief” too.
I will now dismiss John Bull and return to Mrs. Stowe and her abolition coadjutors in general — one and all. I am heartily sick and tired of this whole abolition clap-trap, catch-penny business. I cannot express my views on the subject better than in the language of Graham’s Magazine. Alluding to Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and other kindred publications, he very justly remarks, “that they are all together speculations in patriotism — a question of dollars and cents, not of slavery or liberty. Many persons who are urging on this negro crusade into the domain of letters, have palms with an infernal itch for gold. They would fire the whole republic, if they could but take the gems and precious stones from the ashes. They care nothing for principle, honor or right, &c.” No, they care nothing about negro slavery, or negro oppression. Money is their sole object in all these publications. Sympathy for the poor benighted African, has no agency whatever in the matter. The object is to make money out of the woolly heads, and after that is accomplished they have no farther use for them. The same motives prompt them to write books on slavery — negro oppression and the negroes woes, that induce the cotton grower and the sugar planter to work slaves on their farms. Money is as truly the object of the former, as it is of the latter. And facts prove that the cotton growers and sugar planters, have more sympathy for the African race, than Northern abolitionists.
SECTION IV.
How mortifying the reflection, that such a work as Uncle Tom’s Cabin, should have become so popular in England and America. As an American, we can but view it with shame and regret. Where is the Bible? Where are Shakespeare and Milton, and Addison and Johnson? And where are our own immortal poets and prose writers? Who reads the chaste and beautiful writings of Washington Irvin? What has become of our well written and instructive histories and biographies? Why is it that a filthy negro novel is found in every body’s hand? Uncle Tom’s Cabin! What is it? What can be expected from it? Will it improve the manners, the morals, or the literary tastes of our country-men, and fair country-women? No! Never! Its very touch is contaminating. Filth, pollution, and mental degradation, follow in the train of this class of writers. In what consists the merit of Uncle Tom’s Cabin? It is hard to tell. Look at its dark design — its injustice — its falsehoods! Its vulgarisms, negroisms, localisms, and common place slang! Its tendency to pervert public taste, and corrupt public morals. How remarkable that a work of its character, should have been so much read and admired! We may boast of our intelligence and virtue to our hearts content, the reception of this work is a sad commentary on the age in which we live. We may boast of our religion; it is little else at last, but self-righteous phariseism! We throw around ourselves religion as a cloak; the more effectually to conceal our dark designs! Yes, verily, while we stab an erring, or unerring brother in the dark! We are all prostrate before the god of mammon, and there are but few of us, who would not sell our Saviour for less than thirty pieces of silver! Professedly we are Christians, but practically we are infidels! The Bible is no longer our guide. The fact is, we know but little about it, and care less! We profess to believe that it is the word of God; and yet it is laid aside for any impure negro novel, or other filthy tale, that may chance to fall in our way? Uncle Tom’s Cabin has been read more within the past year, than the Bible had been for the last ten years, immediately preceding its appearance! Thousands of Christians have gloated over its pages with rapture and delight, from the rising till the setting sun, for days and nights in succession, who had not during their lives read a dozen chapters in the Bible! We will now remove the veil and look within. Its high time that the motives which prompt us to action were exposed to public gaze. Let us then take a peep at the “inward man.”
A portion of our fellow citizens in another part of this Union, had, by no fault or agency of their own, become involved in the evils and calamities of slavery. We turned our eyes in that direction, and looked on the dark pictures. We felt that we were great sinners. Guilt pressed heavily upon us. “The sorrows of death compassed us: and the pains of hell got hold upon us;” and we “found trouble and sorrow.” The anguish of our guilt was insupportable. We were in deep distress, and we longed for some thing to soothe and ease our troubled minds: but we did not, with the Psalmist, call upon the Lord to “deliver us.” No! By no means, for we thought if we could find worse sinners than ourselves, it would afford us some relief.
Twas thus we sought, but sought in vain
A panacea for all our pain!
Are there not those more vile than we —
If baser mortal man can be!
We looked around — and looked again,
And searched the world — but searched in vain;
For more depraved — more vile than we
Sure there were none — none could there be!
Alas our souls are steeped in sin!
Though clean without — impure within —
As sepulchers adorned with paint
A devil within — without a saint!
Our condition was pitiable indeed. We said among ourselves, “What now shall we do?” “Where! O! Where shall we find worse sinners than ourselves?” Our woe-begone looks betrayed the secret workings and intentions of our hearts; We again went forth in search of those more wicked than ourselves; but we were destined to disappointment, for we sought in vain, — they were hard to find. They were neither here — nor there — nor any where to be found in all the land of the living! Worse sinners than ourselves could not be found upon this terrestial globe — among all the degenerate sons and daughters of Adam. When we had well nigh given up in despair, we again directed our eyes to the dark picture of African slavery. “Oh!” said we, to ourselves, “how it would soothe and tranquilize our troubled consciences, if we could but find worse sinners than ourselves.” “We know that we are vile and depraved, but are not those slaveholders, a little worse than we are?” Anxiously and intensely we gazed on, but we were disappointed! The picture was dark, to be sure; but we failed to observe all that we expected! We then called for glasses that magnified a thousand fold, and again, and again, we surveyed the dark picture! Ah! we saw something at last! What was it? Well, we either saw something, or, otherwise, we thought we saw something. Chagrin and despair seized upon us, and we exclaimed in the bitter agonies of our souls, “merciful God, are we sinners above all sinners — are there none, so vile as we are?” “But stop — hold on,” (said we), “we are not done with negrodom yet — we cannot let those rascally slaveholders off so lightly — we will yet make it appear, that they are more wicked than ourselves — or, at all events, we will not give them up yet.” It was but seldom that we troubled the good old Bible, but as we were in a difficulty, we decided at once to consult her — perchance she might talk about right on the subject of slavery. After a long search we found the old book; brushed off the dust and opened it. Well, now, we felt quite certain, that the Bible would
tell us, that we were better Christians than slaveholders; for we had already succeeded in persuading ourselves, that we were not quite so bad as we imagined at the outset; and we moreover thought, that we got a glimpse of some thing dreadful about these Southern folks, but hardly knew what it was. We then proceeded to examine the Bible. “Where is it,” (said we), “that the Bible denounces these slaveholders, as the chief of sinners?” “Well, we don’t know, but we think it says something dreadful about them; but we don’t know where it is, or what it is.” We searched, but searched in vain; almost ready to abuse the good Boob, because it refused to abuse slaveholders. We then soliloquized in the following words. “We don’t like these slaveholders — never did — nor did our fathers before us. Our fathers told us that they were bad men — that they were guilty of many horrible things; and that they were not good Christians, like the people out here North.” We were, nevertheless, still oppressed by a load of guilt, and felt the insupportable gnawings of a guilty conscience. We had oppressed the poor and robbed the widow and orphans! We had defrauded our neighbor and slandered our brother! We had lied to both God and man! “Can it be possible,” (said we to ourselves), “that there are human beings living, who have been guilty of more abominable crimes?” “What is more odious?” “What could be more detestable?” “What could render a human being more obnoxious to eternal vengeance?” We were in this deplorable condition, when we first set about trying to deceive ourselves. We pondered the matter well, and could devise no means, that in our judgment, would be so likely to bring relief to our troubled minds, as to find that there were others who were as bad, or probably a little worse than ourselves. We flattered ourselves, that while we were talking about the sins of others, we might forget our own; and at length be able to persuade ourselves that we were Christians. But it was all of no avail. Our consciences said “nay” — the Bible said “nay.” It was at this critical moment, that Uncle Tom’s Cabin came to our relief, and it settled the difficulty. It proved to our satisfaction, that these Southern people were infinitely worse than ourselves. We now found but little difficulty in persuading ourselves that we were really Christians. We then had Southern men just where we had long been trying to place them. We had nothing then to do, but to compare ourselves with them; and the result of the whole matter was, Mrs. Stowe had made them out so much worse than ourselves, that we were forced to the conclusion, that we were good Christians at last.
Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe Page 907