Autographs for Freedom, by Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Thirty-five Other Eminent Writers

by Unknown

Now the people of the United States, without the least hesitation, declare—and they fully believe it—that we are the freest nation on earth. Other nations, doubtless, with equal sincerity, say of themselves the same thing. In England where, as in other countries of the old world, there is a crowded population, raising to a high price everything eatable, the operatives, as they are called, find it difficult to sustain life. They work all the time they can, and, even after doing this, they sometimes perish for want of such food as a human being ought to eat. No one will say that affairs are well ordered here. Having no such state of things ourselves—for except in some of our large cities, no one starves to death—we think that to suffer one to die in this way is cruel and heartless. And we greatly upbraid them for it.

But here we have slavery—a vicious usage which European nations, excepting one, have long since laid aside. This they have done not only because it was productive of innumerable visible evils, but because it greatly and injuriously affected the character of all concerned in it, and in this way the character of the whole community—making one part of it proud and imperious—another suppliant and servile. They upbraid us with it, as being more inconsistent with the high principles we profess, than any act tolerated among them is or can be with the principles they profess. Then whilst we wonder that with so much wealth as England unquestionably has, she should suffer her operatives to die for something to eat, she wonders that slavery—the worst thing known among men—should be permitted to raise its head, not only as high as the many good things and exalted things we possess, but above them, making them, when necessary, give way to it, and even contribute to its support. Indeed, it appears to them like Satan appearing in company with the sons of God, to accuse and try one of his children.

But all this is of no avail. It produces no satisfying results—in fact, nothing but mutual ill-will and irritation. It is no difficult thing to select from the practices of many people such as are not what they ought to be—still the theory, the foundation of the government may be opposed to them, but may be unable to put them down. They may exist in spite of it, and in entire opposition to its main object. Indeed, it appears to be much like reasoning in a circle. We come to no end—no conclusion. To come to any satisfactory end, any useful conclusion, we must take something permanent—something believed by both to be unchangeably right and moral, and compare our governments with it. Whichever comes nearest to the standard agreed on by both, must of course be nearest right. But what shall this be? Now as it is utterly in vain for one to be happy unless he conform to the laws of his being, so it is in vain that governments are instituted, unless they aim to secure the happiness and safety of the governed—the people. The peculiar benefit or enrichment of those that administer the laws, has nothing to do with good government. Then it ought, by all means, to resemble the Divine government. We do not mean a theocracy as it has been administered, the worst, perhaps, of all governments—but it should be remarkable for its sacred regard to justice and right.

But it is objected, this deals with persons as individuals, and not as members of the body politic, and that all Christ’s exhortations were of this kind. Well, be it so—what of that? There is not the least danger, if one will acquit himself well in his various relations as an individual—a MAN—but what he will make a good citizen.

Taking this as our standard, and recurring for a moment to the assertion of our superior happiness as a people—an assertion sometimes regarded as the boastful grandiloquence of our people—is it not true that our government, our constitution of government we mean, more nearly resembles the Divine government than any other does, and therefore, that those under it are more happy? Some, while they are inclined to admit the fact of our superior happiness, yet seem rather to attribute it to our great abundance of land than to the nature of the government. We do not wish in any way to deny, or even to neutralize this statement about the abundance of our land, but still it is one of the facts of the government—the government was made with this in view—it constitutes a subject for its action, and it makes of it a strong auxiliary. This, though undeniably a great cause, is not, in our judgment, the chief one. It is intellect—mind united to such feelings and desires that most advance others to be like God in intelligence and worth—that makes the chief cause. Where this is not—or is not called forth and put into activity, nothing to purpose can be done. Indeed it is the most powerful agent for good anywhere to be found—for it is behind all others, and sets all others to work.

We have among us here no form of religion, as they have in other countries, to which one must conform before he can have any share in the government—no religion that is made part of the government, and which is, therefore, national Religion—how we shall serve or worship a Being or beings superior to ourselves, and who are thought to influence our destiny for ever—is, certainly, the highest concern of man. As no church or nation can answer for him at the judgment-seat, he ought to be left free on this matter. On this point he is free in this country, he is under no necessity to think in a particular channel. In his inquiries after truth, he has nothing to fear from the government about the changes through which his mind may pass, or the conclusions to which it may be led; although he may draw on him the prejudice and hatred of the sects from whom he feels compelled to differ.[^[18]] We may truly say, that in this country, however far we may go in imitating foreign forms, we have nothing higher than the preacher of the truth.

We have no monarch born to rule over us, whether we will or not; nor are we obliged to support this costly leech according to his dignity by money wrung from the labour of the country, nor a host of relatives according to their dignity, as connected with the monarch.

Nor have we a class born to be our legislators. We have no legislative castes, nor social castes, but we may truly say, that any native-born citizen of the United States may aspire to any position, be it governmental or social.

Nor have we fought so long—though it must be confessed we are ready pupils here—as most of the countries of the old world have; still we begin to make fighting almost a part of the government, and a part of the religion of the land. But all this does not answer the question that many have asked, and that our intelligence and exemption from bias in many things make more remarkable—why did we suffer slavery to find a place in a constitution in which there are so many good things—why did we make a garden of healthful fruits and enchanting flowers, and place this serpent in it?

The answer to this question may be easily given by one that well knows the condition of the country that soon followed on the treaty of 1783. Till we were governed by the present constitution we were governed by the Articles of Confederation. The United States, though nominally a nation, had no power to enforce any stipulations she might make. For instance, if she should promise by a treaty to pay interest on the debt that we had contracted to secure our national independence, each State, by its own power and authority, were to raise its quota of the whole amount. If a State failed to raise it, the United States had no redress. It had no authority to coerce any State, no matter what was the cause of failure. This is given as only an instance, and did we not think it made our position very plain, others might be given in manifold abundance—all tending to show the unfaithfulness of the States to the engagements of the United States, and the utter powerlessness of the latter to keep her word. It was owing to this that the main object of the Convention was the more perfect union of the States, and that in this way there might be conferred on the United States the same plenary power to carry out her engagements that a State had to carry out hers.