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Name: Class: Date:

Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

ANSWER: True

8. A compiler ignores whitespace (that is, any combination of nonprinting characters) between words and lines.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True

9. Dots (or periods) in a Java statement are used to separate the names of the components that make up the statement.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True

10. Using the void keyword in the main() method header indicates that a value will be returned by the main()
method is called.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False

Multiple Choice

11. A program written in ____ is the most basic circuitry-level language.

a. Java b. machine language
c. BASIC d. C
ANSWER: b

12. Locating and repairing all syntax errors is part of the process of ____ a program.
a. interpreting b. compiling
c. debugging d. executing
ANSWER: c

13. ____ are also called modules, methods, functions, and subroutines. Java programmers most frequently use the term
“method.”
a. Procedures b. Calls
c. Classes d. Applications
ANSWER: a

14. ____ refers to the hiding of data and methods within an object.
a. Instance b. Inheritance
c. Passed d. Encapsulation
ANSWER: d

15. ____ describes the feature of languages that allows the same word to be interpreted correctly in different situations
based on the context.
a. Polymorphism b. Architecturally neutral
c. Source code d. Insulation
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Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

ANSWER: a

16. Given the statement: System.out.println(“First Java application”);

out refers to ____.
a. the screen b. the standard output device
c. the printer d. the keyboard
ANSWER: b

17. ____ are pieces of information that are sent into, or passed to, a method, usually because the method requires the
information to perform its task or carry out its purpose.
a. Applets b. Methods
c. Arguments d. Objects
ANSWER: c

18. A(n) ____ defines the circumstances under which a class can be accessed and the other classes that have the right to
use a class.
a. identifier b. access specifier
c. parameter d. Pascal casing
ANSWER: b

19. In Java, the reserved keyword ____ means that a method is accessible and usable even though no objects of the class
exist.
a. active b. undefined
c. static d. void
ANSWER: c

20. Line comments start with ____.

a. a forward slash and an asterisk b. two forward slashes
c. a forward slash and two asterisks d. a percent sign
ANSWER: b

21. In a ____ environment, you can change directories using the cd command. For example, to change to a directory
named MyClasses, you type cd MyClasses and press Enter.
a. Windows b. Java
c. graphical d. DOS
ANSWER: d

22. After a successful compile, you can run the class file on any computer that has a ____.
a. Java language interpreter b. Web browser
c. text editor d. DOS
ANSWER: a

23. Java contains a class named ____ that allows you to produce dialog boxes.
a. JBox b. JOptionPane
c. JDialog d. JGUI
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Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

ANSWER: b

24. Whenever a method requires multiple arguments, the arguments are always separated with ____.
a. commas b. periods
c. forward slashes d. brackets
ANSWER: a

25. If a compiler detects a violation of language rules, it refuses to translate the class to ____.
a. an application b. a logic error
c. machine code d. Java
ANSWER: c

26. ____ is the process the compiler uses to divide your source code into meaningful portions; the message means that the
compiler was in the process of analyzing the code when the end of the file was encountered prematurely.
a. Running b. Debugging
c. Compiling d. Parsing
ANSWER: d

27. A ____ is an error not detected until the program asks the computer to do something wrong, or even illegal, while
executing.
a. syntax error b. run-time error
c. package d. Java API
ANSWER: b

28. It is best to use the ____ available text editor when writing Java programs.
a. most complex b. simplest
c. best d. latest
ANSWER: b

29. It is a tradition among programmers that the first program you write in any language produces “____” as its output.
a. Hi, your name! b. Hello, world!
c. My first program! d. Hello, your name!
ANSWER: b

30. When you run a Java application using the ____ command, do not add the .class extension to the filename.
a. class b. static
c. java d. output
ANSWER: c

31. If you receive an error that states, “Exception in thread ‘main’ java.lang.NoClassDefFoundError,” when you try to
execute the application, you probably do not have your ____ set correctly.
a. class length b. class path
c. java d. object
ANSWER: b

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Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

32. {
public static void main(String[] args)
{
System.out.println(“First Java application”);
}
}

Given the above code, which item identifies the access specifier?

a. public b. static
c. void d. First
ANSWER: a

33. public class First

{
public static void main(String[] args)
{
System.out.println(“First Java application”);
}
}

Given the above code, which item identifies the name of the class?
a. public b. static
c. void d. First
ANSWER: d

34. public class First

{
public static void main(String[] args)
{
System.out.println(“First Java application”);
}
}

Given the above code, which item identifies the method’s return type?
a. public b. static
c. void d. println
ANSWER: c

35. public class First

{
public static void main(String[] args)
{
System.out.println(“First Java application”);
}
}

Given the above code, which item identifies that the method will work without instantiating an object of the class?
a. public b. static
c. void d. println
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Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

ANSWER: b

36. In programming, named computer memory locations are called ____because they hold values that might vary.
a. constants b. variables
c. strings d. addresses
ANSWER: b

37. ____ comments are a special case of block comments that are used to generate documentation.
a. Line comments b. Doc comments
c. JDoc d. Javadoc
ANSWER: d

38. You use an import statement when you want to access a built-in Java class that is contained in a group of classes
called a(n) ____.
a. JGroup b. JImport
c. package d. GUI
ANSWER: c

39. A(n) ____ error occurs when the syntax of the program is correct and the program compiles but produces incorrect
results when you execute it.
a. logic b. syntax
c. JVM d. class
ANSWER: a

40. The ____ is also called the Java class library; it contains information about how to use every prewritten Java class,
including lists of all the methods you can use with the classes.
a. Java package b. Java Interface
c. Java SDK d. Java API
ANSWER: d

41. A class named first is different from a class named FIRST because ____.
a. Java is case insensitive b. it is confusing to have two names that look the same
c. Java is case sensitive d. first and FIRST are different literal strings
ANSWER: c

42. Programmers use ____ to organize program code and make it easier to read.
a. literal strings b. whitespace
c. headings d. FAQs
ANSWER: b

43. What is the purpose of the argument "null" in the statement below:
JOptionPane.showMessageDialog(null, “Show my message”);
a. This argument is ignored by Java. b. The output message will be placed in the upper left
corner of the screen.

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Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

c. The output message will be placed in the d. It instructs Java to display the message immediately.
middle of the screen.
ANSWER: c

44. Using the given code, which statement in the main() method body will produce the output “Hello to all!”.
public class Hello
{
public static void main(String[] args)
{
____
}
{
a. System.out(“Hello to all!”); b. System.println(“Hello to all!”);
c. println(“Hello to all!”); d. System.out.println(“Hello to all!”);
ANSWER: d

45. A(n) ____ is a GUI object resembling a window in which you can place messages you want to display.
a. JDK b. dialog box
c. variable d. argument
ANSWER: b

Matching

Match each term with the correct statement below.

a. literal string
b. high-level programming languages
c. dialog box
d. syntax
e. whitespace
f. compiler
g. attributes
h. Machine language
i. Java virtual machine (JVM)
j. debugging
k. javadoc
l. encapsulation
m. inheritance
n. polymorphism
o. method

46. Allow you to assign intuitive names to areas of computer memory

ANSWER: b

47. Repairing syntax errors

ANSWER: j

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Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

48. Documentation comments
ANSWER: k

49. A low-level programming language

ANSWER: h

50. Self-contained block of code that carries out an action

ANSWER: o

51. Placing data and methods within an object

ANSWER: l

52. Series of characters that will appear in output exactly as entered

ANSWER: a

53. The same word can be used in different situations

ANSWER: n

54. A GUI object resembling a window in which you can place messages you want to display
ANSWER: c

55. The rules for the programming language

ANSWER: d

56. Translates an entire program before carrying out the statement

ANSWER: f

57. Hypothetical computer used to run a Java program

ANSWER: i

58. Creating classes that share from existing classes

ANSWER: m

59. Any combination of nonprinting characters

ANSWER: e

60. The characteristics that define an object

ANSWER: g

Subjective Short Answer

61. Why is creating a GUI environment for users a natural use for object orientation?
ANSWER: Creating a GUI environment for users also is a natural use for object orientation. It is easy to think of the
components a user manipulates on a computer screen, such as buttons and scroll bars, as similar to real-world
objects. Each GUI object contains data—for example, a button on a screen has a specific size and color. Each
object also contains behaviors—for example, each button can be clicked and reacts in a specific way when
clicked. Some people consider the term object-oriented programming to be synonymous with GUI
programming, but object-oriented programming means more.
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Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

62. Describe the components (objects and classes) that are used in the statement System.out.println().
ANSWER: Within the statement System.out.println("First Java application");, the method to which
you are passing "First Java application" is named println(). The Java methods println() and
print() both produce output. With println(), after the output is displayed, the insertion point moves to
the following line so that subsequent output appears on a new line. With print(), however, the insertion
point does not advance to a new line, so subsequent output appears at the end of the current line.
Within the statement System.out.println("First Java application");, out is an object that
is a property of the System class that refers to the standard output device for a system, normally the monitor.
The out object itself is an instance of the PrintStream class, which contains several methods, including
println().
Within the statement System.out.println("First Java application");, System is a
class. Therefore, System defines attributes for System objects, just as the Dog class defines the attributes
for Dog objects. One of the System attributes is out. The dots (periods) in System.out.println() are
used to separate the names of the components in the statement.

63. When you define a Java class using an identifier, what are the requirements you need to know?
ANSWER: You can define a Java class using any name or identifier you need, as long as it meets the following
requirements:

• A Java identifier must begin with a letter of the English alphabet, a non-English letter (such as α or π),
an underscore, or a dollar sign. A class name cannot begin with a digit.
• A Java identifier can contain only letters, digits, underscores, or dollar signs.
• A Java identifier cannot be a reserved keyword, such as public or class.
• A Java identifier cannot be one of the following values: true, false, or null. These are not keywords
(they are primitive values), but they are reserved and cannot be used.

64. Regarding code layout, write the following Java code using a common alternate placement of the first curly brace:
public static void main(String[] args)
{
System.out.println("First Java application");
}
ANSWER: public static void main(String[] args) {
System.out.println("First Java application");
}

65. Why is it important for programmers to use program comments?

ANSWER: Programmers use comments to leave notes for themselves and for others who might read their programs in the
future. At the very least, your Java class files should include comments indicating the author, the date, and the
class name or function. The best practice dictates that you also include a brief comment to describe the
purpose of each method you create within a class.

66. What are some of the reasons the javac command might not be recognized?
ANSWER: You made a typo error when typing the command javac.
You misspelled the filename.
You are not within the correct subfolder or subdirectory on your command line.
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Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

Java was not installed properly.

67. What happens after a programmer successfully compiles a Java program named “First.java”?
ANSWER: If you receive no error messages after compiling the code in a file named First.java, the application compiled
successfully. In that case, a file named First.class is created and saved in the same folder as the text file that
holds the source code. After a successful compile, you can execute the program (run the class file) on any
computer that has a Java language interpreter.

68. If you modify a class, what are the steps you must take to see your changes in the executing program?
ANSWER: 1. Save the file with the changes (using the same filename).
2. Recompile the class with the javac command.
3. Interpret the class bytecode and execute the class using the java command.

69. Provide examples of logic errors. How do programmers minimize logic errors in their code?
ANSWER: Examples of logic errors include multiplying two values when you meant to add, printing one copy of a report
when you meant to print five, or forgetting to produce a total at the end of a business report when a user
has requested one. Errors of this type must be detected by carefully examining the program output. It is the
responsibility of the program author to test programs and find any logic errors. Good programming practices
can help to minimize errors.

70. Explain the purpose of arguments and why it is necessary to pass arguments to a method.
ANSWER: Arguments are pieces of information that are sent to a method. The act of sending arguments to a method is
called passing arguments to the method. You pass methods to arguments so they know what information to
work with.

71. Briefly describe the elements of the main() method:

public static void main(String[] args)
{
Java code...
}
ANSWER:
In the method header public static void main(String[] args), the word public is an access
specifier, just as it is when you use it to define the First class.
In Java, the reserved keyword static means that a method is accessible and usable even though no objects
of the class exist.
The keyword void used in the main() method header indicates that the main() method does not return
any value when it is called.
The name of the method is main().
In the method header public static void main(String[] args), the contents between the
parentheses, String[] args, represent the type of argument that can be passed to the main() method.

72. Once an application is written and saved, the Java class must be compiled. Describe what two procedures must occur
in order to view the output of the application.
ANSWER:
1. You must compile the class you wrote (called the source code) into bytecode.
2. You must use the Java interpreter to translate the bytecode into executable statements.

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Chapter 01: Creating Your First Java Classes

73. public class FindMyErrors
{
public static void main(String[] args)
{
System.out.println(“My application with errors)
}

Given the above code, identify three separate syntax errors.

ANSWER: There is a semicolon missing at the end of the println statement that will produce the output.
There is a missing curly brace. Curly braces must be open and closing pairs.
There are missing quotation marks in the println statement that will produce the output.

74. Write a line comment and block comment for the following line of code identifying the author, date, and purpose of
the method. In addition, explain the difference between comments that consist of a double-slash (//) and those that have a
starting and ending slash asterisk (/* .. */).
System.out.println(“Hello Students”);
ANSWER: Possible comments include:
// Written by <your name>
// Written on <date>
/* The println method will output “Hello Students” */
// - used for line comments
/* - used for block comments */

75. System.out.println(“First Java application”);

Given the above code, identify and describe the use of a literal string and the use of parentheses.
ANSWER: A literal string is a series of characters that will appear exactly as entered. Any literal string in Java is written
between double quotation marks. The string “First Java application” appears within parentheses because the
string is an argument to a method, and arguments to methods always appear within parentheses.

76. What are the differences between K & R style and Allman style? Which one is used in this textbook?
ANSWER: The indent style in which opening braces do not stand alone on separate lines, is known as the K & R style and
is named for Kernighan and Ritchie, who wrote the first book about the C programming language. The indent
style in which curly braces are aligned and each occupies its own line, is called the Allman style and is named
for Eric Allman, a programmer who popularized the style. The Allman style is used throughout this book.

Copyright Cengage Learning. Powered by Cognero. Page 11

Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
boards and naked laths separated him from the disagreeable
company below,—he could easily hear what was said in the bar-
room, and was rather glad of the advantage it afforded, for, as you
shall see, it furnished him important hints as to the manner and
deportment he should assume during his stay at that tavern.
Mr. Listwell says he had got into his room but a few moments,
when he heard the officious Wilkes below, in a tone of
disappointment, exclaim, “Whar’s that gentleman?” Wilkes was
evidently expecting to meet with his friend at the bar-room, on his
return, and had no doubt of his doing the handsome thing. “He has
gone to his room,” answered the landlord, “and has ordered his
supper to be brought to him.”
Here some one shouted out, “Who is he, Wilkes? Where’s he
going?”
“Well, now, I’ll be hanged if I know; but I’m willing to make any
man a bet of this old hat agin a five-dollar bill, that that gent is as
full of money as a dog is of fleas. He’s going down to Richmond to
buy niggers, I make no doubt. He’s no fool, I warrant ye.”
“Well, he acts d——d strange,” said another, “anyhow. I likes to
see a man, when he comes up to a tavern, to come straight into the
bar-room, and show that he’s a man among men. Nobody was going
to bite him.”
“Now, I don’t blame him a bit for not coming in here. That man
knows his business, and means to take care on his money,”
answered Wilkes.
“Wilkes, you’re a fool. You only say that, bekase you hope to get a
few coppers out on him.”
“You only measure my corn by your half-bushel, I won’t say that
you’re only mad becase I got the chance of speaking to him first.”
“O Wilkes! you’re known here. You’ll praise up any body that will
give you a copper; besides, ’tis my opinion that that fellow who took
his long slab-sides up stairs, for all the world just like a half-scared
woman, afraid to look honest men in the face, is a Northerner, and
as mean as dish-water.”
 “Now what will you bet of that?” said Wilkes.
The speaker said, “I make no bets with you, ’kase you can get
that fellow up stairs there to say anything.”
“Well,” said Wilkes, “I am willing to bet any man in the company
that that gentleman is a nigger-buyer. He didn’t tell me so right
down, but I reckon I knows enough about men to give a pretty clean
guess as to what they are arter.”
The dispute as to who Mr. Listwell was, what his business, where
he was going, &c., was kept up with much animation for some time,
and more than once threatened a serious disturbance of the peace.
Wilkes had his friends as well as his opponents. After this sharp
debate, the company amused themselves by drinking whisky, and
telling stories. The latter consisting of quarrels, fights, rencontres,
and duels, in which distinguished persons of that neighbourhood,
and frequenters of that house, had been actors. Some of these
stories were frightful enough, and were told, too, with a relish which
bespoke the pleasure of the parties with the horrid scenes they
portrayed. It would not be proper here to give the reader any idea of
the vulgarity and dark profanity which rolled, as “sweet morsel,”
under these corrupt tongues. A more brutal set of creatures,
perhaps, never congregated.
Disgusted, and a little alarmed withal, Mr. Listwell, who was not
accustomed to such entertainment, at length retired, but not to
sleep. He was too much wrought upon by what he had heard to rest
quietly, and what snatches of sleep he got, were interrupted by
dreams which were anything than pleasant. At eleven o’clock, there
seemed to be several hundreds of persons crowding into the house.
A loud and confused clamour, cursing and cracking of whips, and the
noise of chains startled him from his bed; for a moment he would
have given the half of his farm in Ohio to have been at home. This
uproar was kept up with undulating course, till near morning. There
was loud laughing,—loud singing,—loud cursing,—and yet there
seemed to be weeping and mourning in the midst of all. Mr. Listwell
said he had heard enough during the forepart of the night to
convince him that a buyer of men and women stood the best chance
of being respected. And he, therefore, thought it best to say nothing
which might undo the favourable opinion that had been formed of
him in the bar-room by at least one of the fraternity that swarmed
about it. While he would not avow himself a purchaser of slaves, he
deemed it not prudent to disavow it. He felt that he might, properly,
refuse to cast such a pearl before parties which, to him, were worse
than swine. To reveal himself, and to impart a knowledge of his real
character and sentiments would, to say the least, be imparting
intelligence with the certainty of seeing it and himself both abused.
Mr. Listwell confesses, that this reasoning did not altogether satisfy
his conscience, for, hating slavery as he did, and regarding it to be
the immediate duty of every man to cry out against it, “without
compromise and without concealment,” it was hard for him to admit
to himself the possibility of circumstances wherein a man might,
properly, hold his tongue on the subject. Having as little of the spirit
of a martyr as Erasmus, he concluded, like the latter, that it was
wiser to trust the mercy of God for his soul, than the humanity of
slave-traders for his body. Bodily fear, not conscientious scruples,
prevailed.
In this spirit he rose early in the morning, manifesting no surprise
at what he had heard during the night. His quandam friend was
soon at his elbow, boring him with all sorts of questions. All,
however, directed to find out his character, business, residence,
purposes, and destination. With the most perfect appearance of
goodnature and carelessness, Mr. Listwell evaded these meddlesome
inquiries, and turned conversation to general topics, leaving himself
and all that specially pertained to him out of discussion. Disengaging
himself from their troublesome companionship, he made his way to
an old bowling-alley, which was connected with the house, and
which, like all the rest, was in very bad repair.
On reaching the alley Mr. Listwell saw, for the first time in his life,
a slave-gang on their way to market. A sad sight truly. Here were
one hundred and thirty human beings,—children of a common
Creator—guilty of no crime—men and women, with hearts, minds,
and deathless spirits, chained and fettered, and bound for the
market, in a Christian country,—in a country boasting of its liberty,
independence, and high civilization! Humanity converted into
merchandise, and linked in iron bands, with no regard to decency or
humanity! All sizes, ages, and sexes, mothers, fathers, daughters,
brothers, sisters,—all huddled together, on their way to market to be
sold and separated from home, and from each other for ever. And all
to fill the pockets of men too lazy to work for an honest living, and
who gain their fortune by plundering the helpless, and trafficking in
the souls and sinews of men. As he gazed upon this revolting and
heartrending scene, our informant said he almost doubted the
existence of a God of justice! And he stood wondering that the earth
did not open and swallow up such wickedness.
In the midst of these reflections, and while running his eye up and
down the fettered ranks, he met the glance of one whose face he
thought he had seen before. To be resolved, he moved towards the
spot. It was Madison Washington! Here was a scene for the pencil!
Had Mr. Listwell been confronted by one risen from the dead, he
could not have been more appalled. He was completely stunned. A
thunderbolt could not have struck him more dumb. He stood, for a
few moments, as motionless as one petrified; collecting himself, he
at length exclaimed, “Madison! is that you?”
The noble fugitive, but little less astonished than himself,
answered cheerily. “O yes, sir, they’ve got me again.”
Thoughtless of consequences for the moment, Mr. Listwell ran up
to his old friend, placing his hands upon his shoulders, and looked
him in the face. Speechless they stood gazing at each other as if to
be doubly resolved that there was no mistake about the matter, till
Madison motioned his friend away, intimating a fear lest the keepers
should find him there, and suspect him of tampering with the slaves.
“They will soon be out to look after us. You can come when they
go to breakfast, and I will tell you all.”
Pleased with this arrangement, Mr. Listwell passed out of the alley;
but only just in time to save himself, for, while near the door, he
observed three men making their way to the alley. The thought
occurred to him to await their arrival, as the best means of diverting
the ever ready suspicions of the guilty.
While the scene between Mr. Listwell and his friend Madison was
going on, the other slaves stood as mute spectators,—at a loss to
know what all this could mean. As he left, he heard the man chained
to Madison ask, “Who is that gentleman?”
“He is a friend of mine. I cannot tell you now. Suffice it to say he
is a friend. You shall hear more of him before long, but mark me!
whatever shall pass between that gentleman and me, in your
hearing, I pray you will say nothing about it. We are all chained here
together,—ours is a common lot; and that gentleman is not less your
friend than mine.” At these words, all mysterious as they were, the
unhappy company gave signs of satisfaction and hope. It seems that
Madison, by that mesmeric power which is the invariable
accompaniment of genius, had already won the confidence of the
gang, and was a sort of general-in-chief among them.
By this time the keepers arrived. A horrid trio, well fitted for their
demoniacal work. Their uncombed hair came down over foreheads
“villainously low” and with eyes, mouths, and noses to match.
“Hallo! hallo!” they growled out as they entered. “Are you all there?”
“All here,” said Madison.
“Well, well, that’s right! your journey will soon be over. You’ll be in
Richmond by eleven to-day, and then you’ll have an easy time on it.”
“I say, gal, what in the devil are you crying about?” said one of
them. “I’ll give you something to cry about, if you don’t mind.” This
was said to a girl, apparently not more than twelve years old, who
had been weeping bitterly. She had, probably, left behind her a
loving mother, affectionate sisters, brothers, and friends, and her
tears were but the natural expression of her sorrow, and the only
solace. But the dealers in human flesh have no respect for such
sorrow. They look upon it as a protest against their cruel injustice,
and they are prompt to punish it.
This is a puzzle not easily solved. How came he here? what can I
do for him? may I not even now be in some way compromised in
this affair? were thoughts that troubled Mr. Listwell, and made him
eager for the promised opportunity of speaking to Madison.
The bell now sounded for breakfast, and keepers and drivers, with
pistols and bowie-knives gleaming from their belts, hurried in, as if
to get the best places. Taking the chance now afforded, Mr. Listwell
hastened back to the bowling-alley. Reaching Madison, he said,
“Now do tell me all about the matter. Do you know me?”
“Oh, yes,” said Madison, “I know you well, and shall never forget
you nor that cold and dreary night you gave me shelter. I must be
short,” he continued, “for they’ll soon be out again. This, then, is the
story in brief. On reaching Canada, and getting over the excitement
of making my escape, sir, my thoughts turned to my poor wife, who
had well deserved my love by her virtuous fidelity and undying
affection for me. I could not bear the thought of leaving her in the
cruel jaws of slavery, without making an effort to rescue her. First, I
tried to get money to buy her; but, oh! the process was too slow. I
despaired of accomplishing it. She was in all my thoughts by day,
and my dreams by night. At times I could almost hear her voice,
saying, ‘O Madison! Madison! will you then leave me here? can you
leave me here to die? No! no! you will come! you will come!’ I was
wretched. I lost my appetite. I could neither work, eat, nor sleep, till
I resolved to hazard my own liberty, to gain that of my wife! But I
must be short. Six weeks ago I reached my old master’s place. I laid
about the neighbourhood nearly a week, watching my chance, and,
finally, I ventured upon the desperate attempt to reach my poor
wife’s room by means of a ladder. I reached the window, but the
noise in raising it frightened my wife, and she screamed and fainted.
I took her in my arms, and was descending the ladder, when the
dogs began to bark furiously, and before I could get to the woods
the white folks were roused. The cool night air soon restored my
wife, and she readily recognized me. We made the best of our way
to the woods, but it was now too late,—the dogs were after us as
though they would have torn us to pieces. It was all over with me
now! My old master and his two sons ran out with loaded rifles, and
before we were out of gunshot, our ears were assailed with ‘Stop!
stop! or be shot down.’ Nevertheless we ran on. Seeing that we gave
no heed to their calls, they fired, and my poor wife fell by my side
dead, while I received but a slight flesh wound. I now became
desperate, and stood my ground, and awaited their attack over her
dead body. They rushed upon me, with their rifles in hand. I parried
their blows, and fought them till I was knocked down and
overpowered.”
“Oh! it was madness to have returned,” said Mr. Listwell.
“Sir, I could not be free with the galling thought that my poor wife
was still a slave. With her in slavery, my body, not my spirit, was
free. I was taken to the house,—chained to a ring-bolt,—my wounds
dressed. I was kept there three days. All the slaves, for miles
around, were brought to see me. Many slave-holders came with their
slaves, using me as proof of the completeness of their power, and of
the impossibility of slaves getting away. I was taunted, jeered at,
and be-rated by them, in a manner that pierced me to the soul.
Thank God I was able to smother my rage, and to bear it all with
seeming composure. After my wounds were nearly healed, I was
taken to a tree and stripped, and I received sixty lashes on my
naked back. A few days after, I was sold to a slave-trader, and
placed in this gang for the New Orleans market.”
“Do you think your master would sell you to me?”
“O no, sir! I was sold on condition of my being taken South. Their
motive is revenge.”
“Then, then,” said Mr. Listwell, “I fear I can do nothing for you.
Put your trust in God, and bear your sad lot with the manly fortitude
which becomes a man. I shall see you at Richmond, but don’t
recognize me.” Saying this, Mr. Listwell handed Madison ten dollars;
said a few words to the other slaves; received their hearty “God
bless you,” and made his way to the house.
Fearful of exciting suspicion by too long delay, our friend went to
the breakfast table, with the air of one who half reproved the
greediness of those who rushed in at the sound of the bell. A cup of
coffee was all that he could manage. His feelings were too bitter and
excited, and his heart was too full with the fate of poor Madison
(whom he loved as well as admired) to relish his breakfast; and
although he sat long after the company had left the table, he really
did little more than change the position of his knife and fork. The
strangeness of meeting again one whom he had met on two several
occasions before, under extraordinary circumstances, was well
calculated to suggest the idea that a supernatural power, a wakeful
providence, or an inexorable fate, had linked their destiny together;
and that no efforts of his could disentangle him from the mysterious
web of circumstances which enfolded him.
On leaving the table, Mr. Listwell nerved himself up and walked
firmly into the bar-room. He was at once greeted again by that
talkative chatter-box, Mr. Wilkes.
“Them’s a likely set of niggers in the allay there,” said Wilkes.
“Yes, they’re fine looking fellows; one of them I should like to
purchase, and for him I would be willing to give a handsome sum.”
Turning to one of his comrades, and with a grin of victory, Wilkes
said, “Aha, Bill, did you hear that? I told you I know’d that
gentleman wanted to buy niggers, and would bid as high as any
purchaser in the market.”
“Come, come,” said Listwell, “don’t be too loud in your praise, you
are old enough to know that prices rise when purchasers are plenty.”
“That’s a fact,” said Wilkes, “I see you knows the ropes—and
there’s not a man in old Virginy whom I’d rather help to make a
good bargain than you, sir.”
Mr. Listwell here threw a dollar at Wilkes, (which the latter caught
with a dexterous hand,) saying, “Take that for your kind good will.”
Wilkes held up the dollar to his right eye, with a grin of victory, and
turned to the morose grumbler in the corner who had questioned
the liberality of a man of whom he knew nothing.
Mr. Listwell now stood as well with the company as any other
occupant of the bar-room.
We pass over the hurry and bustle, the brutal vociferations of the
slave-drivers in getting their unhappy gang in motion for Richmond;
and we need not narrate every application of the lash to those who
faltered in the journey. Mr. Listwell followed the train at a long
distance, with a sad heart; and on reaching Richmond, left his horse
at an hotel, and made his way to the wharf, in the direction of which
he saw the slave-coffle driven. He was just in time to see the whole
company embark for New Orleans. The thought struck him that,
while mixing with the multitude, he might do his friend Madison one
last service, and he stepped into a hardware store and purchased
three strong files. These he took with him, and standing near the
small boat, which lay in waiting to bear the company by parcels to
the side of the brig that lay in the stream, he managed, as Madison
passed him, to slip the files into his pocket, and at once darted back
among the crowd.
All the company now on board, the imperious voice of the captain
sounded, and instantly a dozen hardy seamen were in the rigging,
hurrying aloft to unfurl the broad canvas of our Baltimore built
American Slaver. The sailors hung about the ropes, like so many
black cats, now in the round-tops, now in the cross-trees, now on
the yard-arms; all was bluster and activity. Soon the broad topsail,
the royal and top gallant sail were spread to the breeze. Round went
the heavy windlass, clank, clank went the fall-bit,—the anchors
weighed,—jibs, mainsails, and topsails hauled to the wind, and the
long, low, black slaver, with her cargo of human flesh, careened, and
moved forward to the sea.
Mr. Listwell stood on the shore, and watched the slaver till the last
speck of her upper sails faded from sight, and announced the limit of
human vision. “Farewell! farewell! brave and true man! God grant
that brighter skies may smile upon your future than have yet looked
down upon your thorny pathway.”
Saying this to himself, our friend lost no time in completing his
business, and in making his way homewards, gladly shaking off from
his feet the dust of Old Virginia.
 PART IV.
Oh, where’s the slave so lowly
Condemn’d to chains unholy,
Who could he burst
His bonds at first
Would pine beneath them slowly?

Moore.

——Know ye not
Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow.

Childe Harold.

What a world of inconsistency; as well as of wickedness, is

suggested by the smooth and gliding phrase, American Slave Trade;
and how strange and perverse is that moral sentiment which
loathes, execrates, and brands as piracy and as deserving of death
the carrying away into captivity men, women, and children from the
African coast; but which is neither shocked nor disturbed by a similar
traffic, carried on with the same motives and purposes, and
characterized by even more odious peculiarities on the coast of our
MODEL REPUBLIC. We execrate and hang the wretch guilty of this crime
on the coast of Guinea, while we respect and applaud the guilty
participators in this murderous business on the enlightened shores of
the Chesapeake. The inconsistency is so flagrant and glaring, that it
would seem to cast a doubt on the doctrine of the innate moral
sense of mankind.
Just two months after the sailing of the Virginia slave brig, which
the reader has seen move off to sea so proudly with her human
cargo for the New Orleans market, there chanced to meet, in the
Marine Coffee-house at Richmond, a company of ocean birds, when
the following conversation, which throws some light on the
subsequent history, not only of Madison Washington, but of the
hundred and thirty human beings with whom we last saw him
chained.
“I say, shipmate, you had rather rough weather on your late
passage to Orleans?” said Jack Williams, a regular old salt,
tauntingly, to a trim, compact, manly-looking person, who proved to
be the first mate of the slave brig in question.
“Foul play, as well as foul weather,” replied the firmly knit
personage, evidently but little inclined to enter upon a subject which
terminated so ingloriously to the captain and officers of the
American slaver.
“Well, betwixt you and me,” said Williams, “that whole affair on
board of the Creole was miserably and disgracefully managed. Those
black rascals got the upper hand of ye altogether: and in my
opinion, the whole disaster was the result of ignorance of the real
character of darkies in general. With half a dozen resolute white
men, (I say it not boastingly,) I could have had the rascals in irons in
ten minutes, not because I’m so strong, but I know how to manage
’em. With my back against the caboose, I could, myself, have
flogged a dozen of them; and had I been on board, by every
monster of the deep, every black devil of ’em all would have had his
neck stretched from the yard-arm. Ye made a mistake in yer manner
of fighting ’em. All that is needed in dealing with a set of darkies, is
to show that yer not afraid of ’em. For my own part, I would not
honour a dozen niggers by pointing a gun at one of ’em,—a good
stout whip, or a stiff rope’s end, is better than all the guns at Old
Point to quell a nigger insurrection. Why, sir, to take a gun to a
nigger is the best way you can select to tell him you are afraid of
him, and the best way of inviting his attack.”
This speech made quite a sensation among the company, and a
part of them intimated solicitude for the answer which might be
made to it. Our first mate replied, “Mr. Williams, all that you’ve now
said sounds very well here on shore, where, perhaps, you have
studied negro character. I do not profess to understand the subject
as well as yourself; but it strikes me, you apply the same rule in
dissimilar cases. It is quite easy to talk of flogging niggers here on
land, where you have the sympathy of the community, and the
whole physical force of the government, state and national, at your
command; and where, if a negro shall lift his hand against a white
man, the whole community, with one accord, are ready to unite in
shooting him down. I say, in such circumstances, it’s easy to talk of
flogging negroes and of negro cowardice: but, sir, I deny that the
negro is, naturally, a coward, or that your theory of managing slaves
will stand the test of salt water. It may do very well for an overseer,
a contemptible hireling, to take advantage of fears already in
existence, and which his presence has no power to inspire; to
swagger about, whip in hand, and discourse on the timidity and
cowardice of negroes; for they have a smooth sea and a fair wind. It
is one thing to manage a company of slaves on a Virginia plantation,
and quite another thing to quell an insurrection on the lonely billows
of the Atlantic, where every breeze speaks of courage and liberty.
For the negro to act cowardly on shore, may be to act wisely; and
I’ve some doubts whether you, Mr. Williams, would find it very
convenient, were you a slave in Algiers, to raise your hand against
the bayonets of a whole government.”
“By George, shipmate,” said Williams, “you’re coming rather too
near. Either I’ve fallen very low in your estimation, or your notions of
negro courage have got up a buttonhole too high. Now I more than
ever wish I’d been on board of that luckless craft. I’d have given ye
practical evidence of the truth of my theory. I don’t doubt there’s
some difference in being at sea. But a nigger’s a nigger, on sea or
land; and is a coward, find him where you will; a drop of blood from
one on ’em will skeer a hundred. A knock on the nose, or a kick on
the shin, will tame the wildest ‘darkey’ you can fetch me. I say
again, and will stand by it, I could, with half a dozen good men, put
the whole nineteen on ’em in irons, and have carried them safe to
New Orleans too. Mind, I don’t blame you; but I do say, and every
gentleman here will bear me out in it, that the fault was somewhere,
or them niggers would never have got off as they have done. For my
part I feel ashamed to have the idea go abroad, that a ship-load of
slaves can’t be safely taken from Richmond to New Orleans. I should
like, merely to redeem the character of Virginia sailors, to take
charge of a ship-load on ’em to-morrow.”
Williams went on in this strain, occasionally casting an imploring
glance at the company for applause for his wit, and sympathy for his
contempt of negro courage. He had, evidently, however, waked up
the wrong passenger; for besides being in the right, his opponent
carried that in his eye which marked him a man not to be trifled
with.
“Well, sir,” said the sturdy mate, “you can select your own method
for distinguishing yourself;—the path of ambition in this direction is
quite open to you in Virginia, and I’ve no doubt that you will be
highly appreciated and compensated for all your valiant
achievements in that line; but, for myself, while I do not profess to
be a giant, I have resolved never to set my foot on the deck of a
slave ship, either as officer, or common sailor again; I have got
enough of it.”
“Indeed! indeed!” exclaimed Williams, derisively.
“Yes, indeed,” echoed the mate; “but don’t misunderstand me. It
is not the high value that I set upon my life that makes me say what
I have said; yet I’m resolved never to endanger my life again in a
cause which my conscience does not approve. I dare say here what
many men feel, but dare not speak, that this whole slave-trading
business is a disgrace and scandal to Old Virginia.”
“Hold! hold on! shipmate,” said Williams, “I hardly thought you’d
have shown your colours so soon,—I’ll be hanged if you’re not as
good an abolitionist as Garrison himself.”
The mate now rose from his chair, manifesting some excitement.
“What do you mean, sir,” said he, in a commanding tone. “That man
does not live who shall offer me an insult with impunity.”
The effect of these words was marked; and the company clustered
around. Williams, in an apologetic tone said, “Shipmate! keep your
temper. I meant no insult. We all know that Tom Grant is no coward,
and what I said about your being an abolitionist was simply this: you
might have put down them black mutineers and murderers, but your
conscience held you back.”
“In that, too,” said Grant, “you were mistaken. I did all that any
man with equal strength and presence of mind could have done. The
fact is, Mr. Williams, you underrate the courage as well as the skill of
these negroes, and further, you do not seem to have been correctly
informed about the case in hand at all.”
“All I know about it is,” said Williams, “that on the ninth day after
you left Richmond, a dozen or two of the niggers ye had on board,
came on deck and took the ship from you;—had her steered into a
British port, where, by-the-bye, every woolly head of them went
ashore and was free. Now I take this to be a discreditable piece of
business, and one demanding explanation.”
“There are a great many discreditable things in the world,” said
Grant. “For a ship to go down under a calm sky is, upon the first
flush of it, disgraceful either to sailors or caulkers. But when we
learn, that by some mysterious disturbance in nature, the waters
parted beneath, and swallowed the ship up, we lose our indignation
and disgust in lamentation of the disaster, and in awe of the Power
which controls the elements.”
“Very true, very true,” said Williams, “I should be very glad to
have an explanation which would relieve the affair of its present
discreditable features. I have desired to see you ever since you got
home, and to learn from you a full statement of the facts in the
case. To me the whole thing seems unaccountable. I cannot see how
a dozen or two of ignorant negroes, not one of whom had ever been
to sea before, and all of whom were closely ironed between decks,
should be able to get their fetters off, rush out of the hatchway in
open daylight, kill two white men, the one the captain and the other
their master, and then carry the ship into a British port, where every
‘darkey’ of them was set free. There must have been great
carelessness, or cowardice somewhere!”
The company which had listened in silence during most of this
discussion, now became much excited. One said, I agree with
Williams; and several said the thing looks black enough. After the
temporary tumultuous exclamations had subsided,—
“I see,” said Grant, “how you regard this case, and how difficult it
will be for me to render our ship’s company blameless in your eyes.
Nevertheless, I will state the fact precisely as they came under my
own observation. Mr. Williams speaks of ‘ignorant negroes,’ and, as a
general rule, they are ignorant; but had he been on board the
Creole, as I was, he would have seen cause to admit that there are
exceptions to this general rule. The leader of the mutiny in question
was just as shrewd a fellow as ever I met in my life, and was as well
fitted to lead in a dangerous enterprise as any one white man in ten
thousand. The name of this man, strange to say, (ominous of
greatness,) was Madison Washington. In the short time he had been
on board, he had secured the confidence of every officer. The
negroes fairly worshipped him. His manner and bearing were such,
that no one could suspect him of a murderous purpose. The only
feeling with which we regarded him was, that he was a powerful,
good-disposed negro. He seldom spake to any one, and when he did
speak, it was with the utmost propriety. His words were well chosen,
and his pronunciation equal to any schoolmaster. It was a mystery to
us where he got his knowledge of language; but as little was said to
him, none of us knew the extent of his intelligence and ability till it
was too late. It seems he brought three files with him on board, and
must have gone to work upon his fetters the first night out; and he
must have worked well at that; for on the day of the rising, he got
the irons off eighteen besides himself.
“The attack began just about twilight in the evening.
Apprehending a squall, I had commanded the second mate to order
all hands on deck, to take in sail. A few minutes before this I had
seen Madison’s head above the hatchway, looking out upon the
white-capped waves at the leeward. I think I never saw him look
more good-natured. I stood just about midship, on the larboard side.
The captain was pacing the quarter-deck on the starboard side, in
company with Mr. Jameson, the owner of most of the slaves on
board. Both were armed. I had just told the men to lay aloft, and
was looking to see my orders obeyed, when I heard the discharge of
a pistol on the starboard side; and turning suddenly around, the very
deck seemed covered with fiends from the pit. The nineteen negroes
were all on deck, with their broken fetters in their hands, rushing in
all directions. I put my hand quickly in my pocket to draw out my
jack-knife; But before I could draw it, I was knocked senseless to the
deck. When I came to myself, (which I did in a few minutes, I
suppose, for it was yet quite light,) there was not a white man on
deck. The sailors were all aloft in the rigging, and dared not come
down. Captain Clarke and Mr. Jameson lay stretched on the quarter-
deck,—both dying,—while Madison himself stood at the helm unhurt.
“I was completely weakened by the loss of blood, and had not
recovered from the stunning blow which felled me to the deck; but it
was a little too much for me, even in my prostrate condition, to see
our good brig commanded by a black murderer. So I called out to
the men to come down and take the ship, or die in the attempt.
Suiting the action to the word, I started aft. You murderous villain,
said I, to the imp at the helm, and rushed upon him to deal him a
blow, when he pushed me back with his strong, black arm, as
though I had been a boy of twelve. I looked around for the men.
They were still in the rigging. Not one had come down. I started
towards Madison again. The rascal now told me to stand back. ‘Sir,’
said he, ‘your life is in my hands. I could have killed you a dozen
times over during this last half hour, and could kill you now. You call
me a black murderer. I am not a murderer. God is my witness that
Liberty, not malice, is the motive for this night’s work. I have done
no more to those dead men yonder, than they would have done to
me in like circumstances. We have struck for our freedom, and if a
true man’s heart be in you, you will honour us for the deed. We have
done that which you applaud your fathers for doing, and if we are
murderers, so were they.’
“I felt little disposition to reply to this impudent speech. By
heaven, it disarmed me. The fellow loomed up before me. I forgot
his blackness in the dignity of his manner, and the eloquence of his
speech. It seemed as if the souls of both the great dead (whose
names he bore) had entered him. To the sailors in the rigging he
said: ‘Men! the battle is over,—your captain is dead. I have complete
command of this vessel. All resistance to my authority will be in vain.
My men have won their liberty, with no other weapons but their own
BROKEN FETTERS. We are nineteen in number. We do not thirst for your
blood, we demand only our rightful freedom. Do not flatter
yourselves that I am ignorant of chart or compass. I know both. We
are now only about sixty miles from Nassau. Come down, and do
your duty. Land us in Nassau, and not a hair of your heads shall be
hurt.’
“I shouted, Stay where you are, men,—when a sturdy black fellow
ran at me with a handspike, and would have split my head open, but
for the interference of Madison, who darted between me and the
blow. ‘I know what you are up to,’ said the latter to me. ‘You want to
navigate this brig into a slave port, where you would have us all
hanged; but you’ll miss it; before this brig shall touch a slave-cursed
shore while I am on board, I will myself put a match to the
magazine, and blow her, and be blown with her, into a thousand
fragments. Now I have saved your life twice within these last twenty
minutes,—for, when you lay helpless on deck, my men were about to
kill you. I held them in check. And if you now (seeing I am your
friend and not your enemy) persist in your resistance to my
authority, I give you fair warning, YOU SHALL DIE.’
“Saying this to me, he cast a glance into the rigging, where the
terror-stricken sailors were clinging, like so many frightened
monkeys, and commanded them to come down, in a tone from
which there was no appeal; for four men stood by with muskets in
hand, ready at the word of command to shoot them down.
“I now became satisfied that resistance was out of the question;
that my best policy was to put the brig into Nassau, and secure the
assistance of the American consul at that port. I felt sure that the
authorities would enable us to secure the murderers, and bring them
to trial.
“By this time the apprehended squall had burst upon us. The wind
howled furiously,—the ocean was white with foam, which, on
account of the darkness, we could see only by the quick flashes of
lightning that darted occasionally from the angry sky. All was alarm
and confusion. Hideous cries came up from the slave women. Above
the roaring billows a succession of heavy thunder rolled along,
swelling the terrific din. Owing to the great darkness, and a sudden
shift of the wind, we found ourselves in the trough of the sea. When
shipping a heavy sea over the starboard bow, the bodies of the
captain and Mr. Jameson were washed overboard. For awhile we had
dearer interests to look after than slave property. A more savage
thunder-gust never swept the ocean. Our brig rolled and creaked as
if every bolt would be started, and every thread of oakum would be
pressed out of the seams. To the pumps! to the pumps! I cried, but
not a sailor would quit his grasp. Fortunately this squall soon passed
over, or we must have been food for sharks.
“During all the storm Madison stood firmly at the helm, his keen
eye fixed upon the binnacle. He was not indifferent to the dreadful
hurricane; yet he met it with the equanimity of an old sailor. He was
silent, but not agitated. The first words he uttered after the storm
had slightly subsided, were characteristic of the man. ‘Mr. mate, you
cannot write the bloody laws of slavery on those restless billows.
The ocean, if not the land, is free.’ I confess, gentlemen, I felt
myself in the presence of a superior man; one who, had he been a
white man, I would have followed willingly and gladly in any
honourable enterprise. Our difference of colour was the only ground
for difference of action. It was not that his principles were wrong in
the abstract; for they are the principles of 1776. But I could not
bring myself to recognize their application to one whom I deemed
my inferior.
“But to my story. What happened now is soon told. Two hours
after the frightful tempest had spent itself, we were plump at the
wharf in Nassau. I sent two of our men immediately to our consul
with a statement of facts, requesting his interference on our behalf.
What he did, or whether he did anything, I don’t know; but, by
order of the authorities, a company of black soldiers came on board,
for the purpose, as they said, of protecting the property. These
impudent rascals, when I called on them to assist me in keeping the
slaves on board, sheltered themselves adroitly under their
instructions only to protect property,—and said they did not
recognize persons as property. I told them that, by the laws of
Virginia and the laws of the United States, the slaves on board were
as much property as the barrels of flour in the hold. At this the
stupid blockheads showed their ivory, rolled up their white eyes in
horror, as if the idea of putting men on a footing with merchandise
were revolting to their humanity. When these instructions were
understood among the negroes, it was impossible for us to keep
them on board. They deliberately gathered up their baggage before
our eyes, and, against our remonstrances, poured through the
gangway,—formed themselves into a procession on the wharf,—bid
farewell to all on board, and, uttering the wildest shouts of
exultation, they marched, amidst the deafening cheers of a
multitude of sympathising spectators, under the triumphant
leadership of their heroic chief and deliverer, Madison Washington.”
 A PLEA FOR FREE SPEECH.

Give me leave to speak my mind.

As You Like it.

The clamorous demand which certain patriotic gentlemen are just

now making for perfect silence on the slavery question, strikes a
quiet looker-on as something very odd. It might pass for a dull sort
of joke, were it not that the means taken to enforce it, by vexatious
prosecutions, political and social proscriptions, and newspaper
assaults on private reputation, are beginning, in certain quarters, to
assume a decidedly tragic aspect, and forcing upon all anti-slavery
men the alternative of peremptorily refusing compliance, or standing
meanly by to see others crushed for advocating their opinions.
The question has been extensively, and I think very naturally
raised, why these anti-agitation gentlemen do not keep silent
themselves. For, strange as it may seem, this perilous topic is the
very one which most of all appears to occupy their thoughts too, and
is ever uppermost when they undertake to speak of the affairs of the
country. They are in the predicament of the poor man in the Eastern
fable, who, being forbidden, on pain of the genie’s wrath, to utter
another cabalistic syllable, found, to his horror, that he could never
after open his lips without their beginning perversely to frame the
tabooed articulation. But not, as in his case, does fear chain up their
organs. They speak it boldly out, proclaim it “the corner-stone” of
their political creed, and do their best in every way, by speeches and
articles, Union-safety pamphlets and National Convention platforms,
to “keep it before the people.” And the object always is, to keep the
people quiet! Surely, if the Union is not strong enough to bear
agitations, the special friends of the Union have chosen a singular
way to save it.
I would by no means infer, that they are altogether insecure in
their professions of anxiety. The truth appears to be, however, that
in so far as these professions are not a sheer pretence, got up by
political men for political effect, our estimable fellow citizens have,
all unwittingly, been obeying a higher law than that which they
would impose on their neighbours,—a law, written in the very nature
of the free soul. On this, the subject of the age, they must think,
and cannot refrain from uttering their thoughts. “They believe, and
therefore have they spoken.” And it is a sufficient reply to their
unanswerable demand for silence on the other side. “We also
believe, and therefore speak.” Pray, why not?
A certain ardent conservative friend of mine, to whom I once
proposed this inquiry, made a short answer to it after this fashion:
—“The abolitionists are all fools and fanatics. Whenever the idea of
anti-slavery gets hold of a man, he takes leave of his common
sense, and is thenceforth as one possessed. I would put a padlock
on every such crazy fellow’s mouth.” My friend’s rule, it will be seen,
is a very broad one; stopping the mouths of all who speak foolishly.
Who will undertake to see it fairly applied? or who could feel quite
free from nervousness in view of its possible operation? Under an
infallible administration, I apprehend, many—some, perhaps, even of
the most strenuous advocates of the law—might find themselves
uncomfortably implicated, who at present hardly suspect the danger.
“By’rlakin, a parlous fear! my masters, you ought to consider with
yourselves!” I am constrained to confess, that in the very midst of
my friend’s aforesaid patriotic diatribe against folly and fanaticism,
and his plea for a summary fool-act, I could not keep out of my mind
some wicked recollections of Horace’s lines:
Communi sensu plane caret, inquimus. Eheu!
Quam temere in nosmet legem sancimus iniquam!
 It must in all candour be confessed, that there is something in the
subject of slavery which, when fairly looked at and realized, is a little
trying to one’s sanity. Even such intellects as John Wesley’s and
Thomas Jefferson’s seem to stagger a little under a view of the
appalling sum of iniquity and wretchedness which the word
represents, and vent their excitement in terms not particularly
measured. What wonder, then, if men of simpler minds should now
and then be thrown quite off the balance, and think and say some
things that are really unwise. I think, indeed, it will have to be
confessed, that we have had fools and fanatics on both sides of the
slavery question; and it is altogether among the probabilities, that
such will continue to be the case hereafter. Still, until we have some
infallible criterion to distinguish actual folly from that which foolish
people merely think such, I fancy we must forego the convenience
of my friend’s summary process, and, giving leave to every man to
speak his mind, leave it to Time—great sifter of men and opinions—
to separate between the precious and the vile.
It may be the kindness bred of a fellow feeling, but I must confess
to a warm side towards my brethren of the motley tribe. While on
the one hand I firmly hold with Elihu—who seems to have
represented young Uz among the friends of Job—that “great men
are not always wise.” I rejoice on the other hand in the concession
of Polonius,—chief old Fogy of the court of Denmark,—that there is
“a happiness which madness often hits on, that reason and sanity
could not so prosperously be delivered of.” Folly and craziness,
quotha! Did it, then, never occur to you, O Worldly Wiseman, that
even your wisdom might be bettered by a dash of that which you
thus contemptuously brand? Or does the apostle seem to you as one
that driveleth, when he says, “If any man among you seemeth to be
wise in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise?”
I have often admired the sagacity of our mediæval forefathers, in
the treatment of their (so called) fools. They gave them a special
licence of the tongue; for they justly estimated the advantages
which the truly wise know how to draw from the untrammelled
utterances of any honest mind, especially of minds which, refusing
to run tamely in the oiled grooves of prescriptive and fashionable
orthodoxy, are the more likely, now and then, (where if only by
accident,) to hit upon truths which others missed. Hence they
maintained an “Independent Order” of the motley, whose only
business it was freely to think and freely speak their minds. “I must
have liberty withal,” says Jaques, aspiring to this dignity,
—“as free a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please: for so fools have.”

And he adds, in a strain of admonition which certain

contemporaneous events might almost lead one to consider
prophetic—
“They that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
The why is as plain as way to parish church.
He that a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob. If not,
The wise man’s folly is anatomised
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
* * What then? Let me see wherein
My speech hath wronged him. If it do him right,
Then he hath wronged himself; if he be free,
Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies,
Unclaimed of any man.”

Now if there be “fools in the nineteenth century,” as I devoutly

hope there be,—men possessed with the belief of a Higher Law,
Inalienable Rights, Supremacy of Conscience, and such like obsolete
phantoms, and passing strange judgments on the deeds of men, and
nations in the light thereof,—I beg to put in a similar plea for them.
Give them leave to speak their minds. Now and then, it may be
worth the pondering, and, heeded betimes, may, peradventure, save
from calamity and ruin. If not, an attempt to enforce silence on fools
—and is it not much the same with freemen?—is likely to produce,
not silence at all, but a greater outcry. And as for our great and wise
men, when hit, let them conceal the smart, and profit by the lesson.
But, for their own greatness’ sake, and the honour of their wisdom,
whether hit or not, let them never fall into a passion at the freedom
of men’s speech, and cry, This must be put down. For it will not
down at their bidding.
But the subject refuses to be treated lightly. The vast interest at
stake on both sides, and the immediate urgency of crisis, compel the
mind to sobriety and solicitude in the contemplation of it. No truly
wise man will look upon the anti-slavery doctrine as mere folly, or on
the promulgation of it as idle breath. It is the measureless power of
that sentiment, and all its power lies in its truth—that wakens this
alarm; and it is the consciousness of holding such a weapon in their
hands, that makes the anti-slavery masses at the North pause, lest,
in attempting to use it for good, they should, unwittingly, do harm.
For such a sentiment, who can fail to feel respect? Who would not
despise himself if his own bosom were destitute of it? But, by as
much as I respect it in others, and would cherish it in myself, by so
much will I resent all playing upon it by political men for party or
personal ends, and fear lest it betray me into pusillanimity and
inertness where the times demand action for humanity and God. It is
a serious question for all honest anti-slavery men throughout the
land, in what way they can most wisely and hopefully quit them of
their responsibility in relation to this thing. Their actions as citizens
should, unquestionably, be restricted by the just limits of their civil
responsibility; as men by those of their moral responsibility. Even
within those limits, they should act with a wise moderation, and in a
generous spirit of candour and kindness. But one thing is abundantly
certain, that by ignoring the responsibility, they do not get rid of it;
by turning their backs on the obligation, they will not get it
discharged. Still the terrible fact remains. Still the tears and blood of
the enslaved are daily dropping on our country’s soil. Throw over it
what veil of extenuation and excuse you may, the essential crime
and shame remains. Believe as kindly as you can of the treatment
which the slaves receive of humane and Christian masters; it is only
on condition that they first surrender their every right as men. Let
them dare demur to that, and their tears and blood must answer it.
That is the terrible fact; and our country is the abettor, the protector,
and the agent of the iniquity. Must we be indifferent? May we be
indifferent? It is a question of tremendous import to every freeman
in the land, who honestly believes that the rights he claims as a man
are common to the race.
We used to be told, and are sometimes still, that this is a matter
which belongs to our Southern brethren exclusively, and that when
we of the Free States interfere with it, we meddle with that which is
“none of our business.” And there was a time, when this might be
urged with a show of consistency. It was when slavery claimed only
to be a creature of State legislation, and asked only of the national
Government and the Free States to be let alone. Even then, it had
no right of exemption from the rational scrutiny to which all human
institutions are amenable, nor from the rebuke and denouncement
which all men may, in Heaven’s name, utter against all iniquity done
in the face of Heaven. But the special right of republican citizens to
demand the correction of wrongs done by their own government,
attached in the matter of slavery only to the citizens of the slave
States.
But a wonderful change has been passing before our eyes. The
attitude of slavery is entirely altered. It now claims to be
nationalized. It demands a distinct recognition and active protection
from the general government, and indirect, but most effectual
support from every State in the Union, and from every citizen
thereof! The government has acknowledged the validity of the claim;
and our great political leaders—some on whom we have been wont
to rely as stalwart champions of freedom—have turned short round
in their tracks, and require us to believe that we are under
constitutional obligations to help maintain the accursed thing,—yea,
through all future time, to do its most menial work! Nor is the
doctrine to be left in the dubious region of speculation. It is already
“a fixed fact,” terribly embodied in a penal law. It enters the home of
every Northern freeman, and announces in thunder-tones this
ancestral obligation, which had so strangely faded from the
recollections of men. It tolerates no dulness of apprehension, no
hesitancy of belief. It bids us all, on pain of imprisonments and fines,
to conquer our prejudices, to swallow our scruples, to be still with
our nonsensical humanities, and, “as good citizens,” to start out at
the whistle of a United States’ constable, to chase down miserable
negroes fleeing from the hell of bondage!
Slavery, then, has become our business at last; and, as such, does
it not behove us to attend to it? I think, in the language of honest
Dogberry, that “that is proved already, and will go near to be
thought so shortly.” The thing lies in a nut-shell. Millard Fillmore is
not our master, but our servant. It is not his to prescribe duties, but
ours; and his to perform them. What he does, in his own person and
by his subordinate executive officers, he does for us, and on our
responsibility. What he does or they do, in other words, WE do; and
we must abide the reckoning. In this responsibility, the humblest
citizen bears his share, and cannot shirk it if he would. When, then, I
see the ministers of my country’s law consigning men with flesh and
blood like my own, with homes and business, with wives and
children,
As dear to them, as are the ruddy drops
That visit their sad hearts,

men unaccused of crime, and eating the daily bread of honest labour
—consigning them, I say, and their posterity to hopeless vassalage,
and degrading chattelhood, by a process, too, which tramples under
foot the most ancient and sacred guarantees of my own and my
neighbour’s rights. When I see this great nation lay its terrible grasp
upon the throat of a feeble, unoffending man, and thrust him back
to worse than a felon’s fate for doing that which no casuistry can
torture into a crime, I am compelled to feel that it is myself engaged
in this atrocious business; and no one but myself can rid me of the
responsibility. I can no longer be silent; I dare no longer be silent; I
will no longer be silent. I will remonstrate and cry, shame! I will
refuse to obey the law; I will demand to be released, and to have
my country released, from its odious requirements. I will vote, and
influence voters, and use every prerogative of freedom, to throw at
least from off my conscience a burden that it cannot bear. And who
that is worthy to be free himself, will blame me? To speak is no
longer a mere right; it has become a religious duty.
Let no man tell me, that this law is a mere dead letter. The old
Fugitive Law, had, indeed, become so; and so would any other be
likely to become, which, while grasping after the slave, should pay a
decent respect to the rights of the free. But slavery cannot subsist
on any such condition; and this law was framed to supply the
deficiencies of the old law, and to accomplish the thing. It is based
on the assumption that the government of the United States is
bound to effect the rendition of fugitives, if possible at all, at
whatever cost. And, if this law is insufficient, the assumption is
equally good for still more stringent measures. But I repeat it, let no
man tell me it is now a nullity. Have we not seen it executed in our
streets, and at our very doors? I chanced to be in the city of New
York at the time when, I think, its first victim, Henry Long, was torn
from his family, and from a reputable and profitable business, and
sent back,—limbs, and brain, and throbbing, loving heart—the
husband, father, friend, the peaceful and industrious member of
society, all, to be the property of a fellow-mortal in a hostile land.
Could I look upon this crimeless man, thus in the grasp of the
officers of my country’s laws, my own representatives, and hurried
unresisting to that dreadful doom; and ever be able to believe the
law innocuous, and myself guiltless while I acquiesced in silence?
The rabble followed him along the streets, shouting in exultation at
the negro’s fate. Them I must acknowledge as my fellows and
brethren, but him—on him I must put my heel, with theirs, to crush
him out of manhood! And the morrow’s papers, edited by professed
Christians, heralded the occurrence, with not even a decent pretence
of pity and regret, but as a triumph of LAW, (O sacred name
profaned!) in which all good men should rejoice. That day I felt a
stifling sensation settling down upon me, of which my previous
experience had afforded no precedent, and with an oppressive
weight which no language can describe. I felt that I no longer
breathed the air of liberty; that slavery was spreading her upas
branches athwart my sky also. The convenient apology that the sin
was not mine, but another’s, no longer stood me in stead; and I
have wondered ever since to hear any honest Northern man employ
it. There are Northern men, from whom nothing could surprise me.
And what have we since witnessed? The inferior officers of the law
prowling throughout the North for victims on whom to enforce it.
Their superiors, even to the highest, labouring by speeches and
proclamations and journeyings to an fro in the land (is it too much to
say?) to dragoon the people into its support. The national treasury
thrown wide open to meet its “extraordinary expenses.” Fanueil Hall
hung in chains, to ensure its execution. Presidential candidates
vieing with each other in expressions of attachment and fidelity to it.
Able men, in Church and State, spotted for proscription for no other
sin than hating that law, and daring to declare that hatred. And to
crown the whole, the wisdom of the nation, in Baltimore
Conventions once and again assembled, pronouncing the new
doctrines of constitutional responsibility, with the law that embodies
it, not only a certainty, but—(hear it, O heavens!) a finality! A new
word in the political vocabulary, and verily a new thing in the earth!
“Finality,” in the legislation of freemen! A finality, that for ever
precludes reconsideration, amendment, or repeal! When such things
are said, and gravely said, by men professing to be American
statesmen, I can almost imagine the fathers of my country turning
painfully in their graves. And can it be possible, that in the same
breath with which men assume to roll political responsibilities on
freemen, they dare require perpetual silence and unconsidering
submission thereto? Then, what is it to be free?
But let no one dream that these formidable pronouncements have
any enduring force. It is natural, that Southern statesmen should
seek, by every possible expedient, to keep out the flood of
discussion from a system which can so illy bear it. And it is not
strange, that Northern politicians should, for temporary purposes,
assist them in the effort. This is for a day; but the great tide of
human thought flows on for ever, and there is no spot from which it
will be shut out. I remember when the right of petition was denied