UNITED STATES AROUSED AGAINST WHITE SLAVERY.
The country was aroused. A general contribution was proposed. The cause of our brethren was pleaded in churches, and not forgotten at the festive board. At all public celebrations, the toasts "Happiness for all" and "Universal Liberty," were proposed, not more in sympathy with Frenchmen struggling for human rights than with our own wretched white fellow-countrymen in bonds. On one occasion[116] they were distinctly remembered in the following toast: "Our brethren in slavery at Algiers. May the measures adopted for their redemption be successful, and may they live to rejoice with their friends in the blessings of liberty!" Generous words, apt for all in bonds!
Meanwhile the efforts of the National Government continued. President Washington, in his speech to Congress, delivered in person to both houses in the Representatives' Chamber, December 8, 1795, said: "With peculiar satisfaction I add, that information has been received from an agent deputed on our part to Algiers, importing that the terms of the treaty with the Dey and Regency of that country had been adjusted in such a manner as to authorize the expectation of a speedy peace, and the restoration of our unfortunate fellow-citizens from a grievous captivity."[117] This was effected on the 5th of September, 1795. It was a treaty full of humiliation for the "chivalry" of our country. Besides securing a large sum of money to the Algerine government in consideration of present peace and the liberation of captives, it stipulated an annual tribute of "twelve thousand Algerine sequins in maritime stores."[118] But feelings of pride disappeared in heartfelt satisfaction. A thrill of joy went through the land, when it was announced that a vessel had left Algiers, having on board all the American captives, now happily at liberty. Their emancipation was purchased at the cost of more than seven hundred thousand dollars. The largess of money, and even the indignity of tribute, were forgotten in gratulations on their new-found happiness. The President, in his speech to Congress, delivered in person, December 7, 1796, presented their "actual liberation" as a special subject of joy to "every feeling heart."[119] Thus did the National Government construct a bridge of gold for Freedom.
This act of national generosity was followed by peace with Tripoli, purchased, November 4, 1796, for the sum of fifty-six thousand dollars,—"$48,000 in cash, $8,000 in presents,"[120]—under the guaranty of the Dey of Algiers, who was declared to be "the mutual friend of the parties." By an article in this treaty, negotiated by Joel Barlow,—out of tenderness, perhaps to Mahometanism, and to save our citizens from that slavery which was regarded as the just doom of "Christian dogs,"—it was expressly declared that "the Government of the United States of America is not in any sense founded on the Christian religion."[121] By a treaty with Tunis, purchased after some delay, but at a smaller price than that with Tripoli, all danger to our citizens seemed to be averted. Here it was ignominiously provided, that fugitive slaves, taking refuge on board American merchant vessels, and even vessels of war, should be restored to their owners.[122]
As early as 1787 a more liberal treaty was entered into with Morocco, which was confirmed in 1795,[123] at the price of twenty thousand dollars; while, by a treaty with Spain, in 1799, this slave-trading empire expressly declared its "desire that the name of Slavery might be effaced from the memory of man."[124]
But these governments were barbarous, faithless, regardless of humanity and justice. Promises with them were evanescent. As in the days of Charles the Second, treaties were made merely to be broken. They were observed only so long as money was derived under their stipulations. Soon again our growing commerce was fatally vexed by the Barbary corsairs; even the ships of our navy were subjected to peculiar indignities. In 1801 the Bey of Tripoli formally declared war against the United States, and in token thereof "our flag-staff [before the consulate] was chopped down six feet from the ground, and left reclining on the terrace."[125] American citizens once more became the prize of man-stealers. Colonel Humphreys, now at home in retirement, came out in an address to the public, calling again for united action, saying: "Americans of the United States, your fellow-citizens are in fetters! Can there be but one feeling? Where are the gallant remnants of the race who fought for freedom? Where the glorious heirs of their patriotism? Will there never be a truce between political parties? Or must it forever be the fate of Free States, that the soft voice of union should be drowned in the hoarse clamor of discord? No! Let every friend of blessed humanity and sacred freedom entertain a better hope and confidence."[126] Colonel Humphreys was not a statesman only; he was known as poet also. And in this character he made another appeal. In a poem on "The Future Glory of the United States," he breaks forth into indignant condemnation of slavery, which deserves commemoration, and, whatever may be the merits of its verse, should not be omitted here.
"Teach me curst slavery's cruel woes to paint,
Beneath whose weight our captured freemen faint!
. . . . . .
Where am I? Heavens! what mean these dolorous cries?
And what these horrid scenes that round me rise?
Heard ye the groans, those messengers of pain?
Heard ye the clanking of the captive's chain?
Heard ye your freeborn sons their fate deplore,
Pale in their chains and laboring at the oar?
Saw ye the dungeon, in whose blackest cell,
That house of woe, your friends, your children, dwell?
Or saw ye those who dread the torturing hour,
Crushed by the rigors of a tyrant's power?
Saw ye the shrinking slave, the uplifted lash,
The frowning butcher, and the reddening gash?
Saw ye the fresh blood, where it bubbling broke
From purple scars, beneath the grinding stroke?
Saw ye the naked limbs writhed to and fro,
In wild contortions of convulsing woe?
Felt ye the blood, with pangs alternate rolled,
Thrill through your veins and freeze with deathlike cold,
Or fire, as down the tear of pity stole,
Your manly breasts, and harrow up the soul?"[127]
The people and Government responded. And here commenced those early deeds by which our navy became known in Europe. Through a reverse of shipwreck rather than war, the frigate Philadelphia fell into the hands of the Tripolitans. A daring act of Decatur burned it under the guns of the enemy. Other feats of hardihood ensued. A romantic expedition by General Eaton, from Alexandria, in Egypt, across the Desert of Libya, captured Derne. Three several times Tripoli was attacked, and, at last, on the 4th of June, 1805, entered into a treaty by which the freedom of three hundred American slaves was secured, on the payment of sixty thousand dollars; and it was provided, that, in the event of future war between the two countries, prisoners should not be reduced to slavery, but should be exchanged rank for rank, and if there were any deficiency on either side, it should be made up at the rate of five hundred Spanish dollars for each captain, three hundred dollars for each mate and supercargo, and one hundred dollars for each seaman.[128] Thus did our country, after successes not without what is called the glory of arms, again purchase with money the emancipation of white citizens.
The power of Tripoli was inconsiderable. That of Algiers was more formidable. It is not a little curious that the largest ship of this slave-trading state was the Crescent, of thirty-four guns, built in New Hampshire;[129] though it is hardly to the credit of our sister State that the Algerine power derived such important support from her. The lawlessness of the corsair broke forth again in the seizure of the brig Edwin, of Salem, and the enslavement of her crew. The energies of the country were at this time enlisted in war with Great Britain; but even amidst the anxieties of this important contest was heard the voice of these captives, awakening a corresponding sentiment throughout the land, until the Government was prompted to their release. Through Mr. Noah, recently appointed consul at Tunis, it offered to purchase their freedom at three thousand dollars a head.[130] The answer of the Dey, repeated on several occasions, was, that "not for two millions of dollars would he sell his American slaves."[131] The timely treaty of Ghent, establishing peace with Great Britain, left us at liberty to deal with this enslaver of our countrymen. At once a naval force was despatched to the Mediterranean, under approved officers, Commodores Bainbridge and Decatur. The rapidity of their movements and their striking success had the desired effect. In December, 1816, a treaty was extorted from the Dey of Algiers, by which, after abandoning all claim to tribute in any form, he delivered his American captives, ten in number, without ransom, and stipulated that hereafter no Americans should be made slaves or forced to hard labor, and, still further, that "any Christians whatsoever, captives in Algiers," making their escape, and taking refuge on board an American ship of war, should be safe from all requisition or reclamation.[132]
Decatur walked his deck with impatient earnestness, awaiting the promised signature of the treaty. "Is the treaty signed?" he cried to the captain of the port and the Swedish consul, as they reached the Guerrière with a white flag of truce. "It is," replied the Swede; and the treaty was placed in the hands of the brave commander. "Are the prisoners in the boat?" "They are." "Every one of them?" "Every one, Sir." The captive Americans now came forward to greet and bless their deliverer.[133] Here, on a smaller scale, was the same scene which had given such satisfaction to the Emperor Charles the Fifth at Tunis. Surely this moment, when he looked upon emancipated fellow-countrymen and thought how much he had contributed to overthrow the relentless system of bondage under which they had groaned, must have been one of the sweetest in the life of our hardy son of the sea. But should I not say, even here, that there is now a citizen of Massachusetts, who, without army or navy, by a simple act of self-renunciation, has given freedom to a larger number of Christian American slaves than was liberated by the sword of Decatur? Of course I refer to Mr. Palfrey.
Not by money, but by arms, was emancipation this time secured. The country was grateful for the result,—though the poor freedmen, engulfed in unknown wastes of ocean, on their glad passage home, were never able to mingle joys with their fellow-citizens. They were on board the Épervier, of which no trace ever appeared. Nor did the people feel the melancholy mockery of the National Government, which, having weakly declared that it was "not in any sense founded on the Christian religion," now expressly confined the protecting power of its flag to fugitive "Christians, captives in Algiers," leaving slaves of another faith, escaping even from Algiers, to be snatched as between the horns of the altar and returned to continued horrors.