industry, and laudable ambition in the place of sullen discontent, indolence, and despair.
The case of St. Domingo
is in point.
Blood was indeed shed on that island like water, but it was not in consequence of emancipation.
It was shed in the civil war which preceded it, and in the iniquitous attempt to restore the slave system in 1801.
It flowed on the sanguine altar of slavery, not on the pure and peaceful one of emancipation.
No; there, as in all the world and in all time, the violence of oppression engendered violence on the part of the oppressed, and vengeance followed only upon the iron footsteps of wrong.
When, where, did justice to the injured waken their hate and vengeance?
When, where, did love and kindness and sympathy irritate and madden the persecuted, the broken-hearted, the foully wronged
In September, 1793, the Commissioner
of the French National Convention issued his proclamation giving immediate freedom to all the slaves of St. Domingo
Did the slaves baptize their freedom in blood?
Did they fight like unchained desperadoes because they had been made free?
Did they murder their emancipators No; they acted, as human beings must act, under similar circumstances, by a law as irresistible as those of the universe: kindness disarmed them, justice conciliated them, freedom ennobled them.
No tumult followed this wide and instantaneous emancipation.
It cost not one drop of blood; it abated not one tittle of the wealth or the industry of the island.
, a slave proprietor residing at the time on the island, states that after the public