Nathaniel Peabody Rogers: Color-phobia, November 10, 1838

COLOR-PHOBIA.

Our people have got it. They have got it in the blue, collapse stage. Many of them have got it so bad, they can't get well. They will die of it. It will be a mercy, if the nation does not. What a dignified, philosophic malady! Dread of complexion. They don't know they have got it — or think, rather, they took it the natural way. But they were inoculated. It was injected into their veins and incided into their systems, by old Doctor Slavery, the great doctor that the famous Dr. Wayland studied with. There is a kind of varioloid type, called colonization. They generally go together, or all that have one are more apt to catch the other. Inoculate for one, (no matter which,) and they will have both, before they get over it. The remedy and the preventive, if taken early, is a kine-pock sort of matter, by the name of anti-slavery. It is a safe preventive and a certain cure. None that have it, genuine, ever catch slavery or colonization or the color-phobia. You can't inoculate either into them. It somehow changes and redeems the constitution, so that it is unsusceptible of them. An abolitionist can sleep safely all night in a close room, where there has been a colonization meeting the day before. He might sleep with It. R. Gurley and old Dr. Proudfit, three in a bed, and not catch it. The remedy was discovered by Dr. William Lloyd Jenner-Garrison.

This color-phobia is making terrible havoc among our communities. Anti-slavery drives it out, and after a while cures it. But it is a base, low, vulgar ailment. It is meaner, in fact, than the itch. It is worse to get rid of than the “seven years' itch.” It is fouler than Old Testament leprosy. It seems to set the dragon into a man, and make him treat poor, dark-skinned folks like a tiger. It goes hardest with dark-complect white people. They have it longer and harder than light-skinned people. It makes them sing out “Nigger—nigger,” sometimes in their sleep. Sometimes they make a noise like this, “Darkey—darkey— darkey.” Sometimes, “Wully—wully—wully.” They will turn up their noses, when they see colored people, especially if they are of a pretty rank, savory habit of person, themselves. They are generally apt to turn up their noses, as though there was some “bad smell” in the neighborhood, when they have it bad, and are naturally pretty odoriferous. It is a tasty disorder — a beautiful ailment; very genteel, and apt to go in “first families.” We should like to have Hogarth take a sketch of a community that had it — of ours, for instance, when the St. Vitus’ fit was on. We have read somewhere of a painter, who made so droll a picture, that he died a-laughing at the sight of it. Hogarth might not laugh at this picture. It would be a sight to cry at, rather than laugh, especially if he could see the poor objects of our frenzy, when the fit is on — which indeed is all the time, for it is an unintermittent. Our attitude would be most ridiculous and ludicrous, if it were not too mortifying and humiliating and cruel. Our Hogarth would be apt to die of something else than laughter, at sight of his sketch.

The courtly malady is the secret of all our anti-abolition, and all our mobocracy. It shuts up all the consecrated meetinghouses — and all the temples of justice, the court-houses, against the friends of negro liberty. It is all alive with fidgets about desecrating the Sabbath with anti-slavery lectures. It thinks anti-slavery pew-owners can't go into them, or use their pulpit, when it is empty, without leave of the minister whom they employ to preach in it. It will forcibly shut people out of their own houses and off their own land, — not with the respectful violence of enemies and trespassers, but the contemptuous unceremoniousness of the plantation overseer — mingled moreover with the slavish irascibility of the poor negro, when he holds down his fellow-slave for a flogging. It sneers at human rights through the free press. It handed John B. Mahin over to the alligators of Kentucky. It shot Elijah P. Lovejoy at Alton. It dragged away the free school, at Canaan. It set Pennsylvania Hall a-fire.

It broke Miss Crandall's school windows, and threw filth into her well. It stormed the female prayer meeting in Boston, with a “property and standing” forlorn hope. It passed the popish resolution at Littleton, in Grafton county. It shut up the meeting-house at Meredith Bridge, against minister and all, — and the homely court-house there, and howled like bedlam around the little, remote district school-house, and broke the windows at night. It excludes consideration and prayer in regard to the forlorn and christian-made heathenism of the American colored man, from county conferences and clerical associations. It broods over the mousings of the New York Observer, and gives keenness to the edge and point of its New Hampshire name-sake. It votes anti-slavery lectures out of the New Hampshire state house, and gives it public hearing on petitions, in a seven by nine committee room. It answers the most insulting mandate of southern governors, calling for violations of the state constitution and bill of rights, by legislative report and resolves that the paramount rights of slavery are safe enough in New Hampshire, without these violations. It sneers and scowls at woman's speaking in company, unless to simper, when she is flattered by a fool of the masculine or neuter gender. It won't sign an anti-slavery petition, for fear it will put back emancipation half a century. It votes in favor of communing with slaveholders, and throwing the pulpit wide open to men-stealers, to keep peace in the churches, and prevent disunion. It will stifle and strangle sympathy for the slave and " remembrance of those in bonds," to prevent disturbance of religious revivals. It will sell the American slave to buy Bibles, or hire negro-hating and negro-buying missionaries for foreign heathen of all quarters but christian-wasted Africa. It prefers American lecturers on slavery, to having that foreign emissary, George Thompson, come over here, to interfere with American rights and prejudices. It abhors "church action" and "meddling with politics." In short, it abhors slavery in the abstract — wishes it might be done away, but denies the right of any body or any thing to devise its overthrow, but slavery itself and slaveholders. It prays for the poor slave, that he might be elevated, while it stands both feet on his breast to keep him down. It prays God might open a way in his own time for the deliverance of the slave, while it stands, with arms akimbo, right across the way he has already opened. Time would fail us to tell of its extent and depth in this free country, or the deeds it has done. Anti-slavery must cure it, or it must die out like the incurable drunkards.

SOURCE: Collection from the Miscellaneous Writings of Nathaniel Peabody Rogers, Second Edition, p. 44-7 which states it was published in the Herald of Freedom of November 10, 1838.

Nathaniel Peabody Rogers: Dr. Francis Wayland, October 20, 1838

We wonder if this learned divine has ever undertaken to convince men that their “responsibilities were limited” in regard to the removal of any other nuisance than slavery. We have not seen any portion of his "limitations," except that relating to slavery. Whether he has treated on them as to any other sin, we do not know. But what possessed him to think men needed reminding of the limitations of their obligations? Are they prone to works of supererogation? Are they apt to be rampant in the exercise of that “charity,” which “seeketh not her own,” to transcend the bounds of their duty? Is it necessary, in order to a proper husbanding of their sympathies, that they be warned and admonished against their too prodigal lavishment upon their fellow-men? Is it to be predicated of fallen, depraved men, that they will be likely to overrun their obligations? Need they be guarded against an extravagance like this? Need ministers of the gospel tax their ingenuity in a behalf like this? Generally this class of men have been engaged, on what they call in court “the other side;” in enforcing human obligations, and in setting forth and urging on men's consciences their terrible responsibilities—to remove from their minds and hearts erroneous notions of their limitation?. and of their own freedom from obligation.

We take it nothing can be clearer and more reasonable than the universal obligation to do to others as we would that they should do to us — and to do likewise for others. If we were slaves, does any doctor doubt we should desire our neighbors, if we had any, to try to rescue us? If our house was a-fire, should not we want our neighbors to help put the fire out? If we were in the water, going to the bottom, could we bear it that neighbors should go indifferently by, and let us sink — that they should merely pity us — in the abstract? The slavery case is exceedingly plain. Slavery is the creature of tolerance — of public sufferance. Southern slavery exists in northern sufferance. The North is the seat of American sufferance. It is the theatre of moral influence for this nation. There is no such influence in the South — that is, no reforming influence except by negative operation. What is the moral influence of New Orleans on the nation? What of Charleston, or Mobile, or St. Louis, or Richmond, or any of the states or people of which these are the capitals? What religious or moral enterprise ever originated, or advanced in any of these places or people? They no more influence the country, than gamblers, drunkards, thieves, religiously influence the church. The church influences them for good or for evil, according to her faithfulness or unfaithfulness in her Master's service. The North influences the South in the matter of slavery. Yea, the North acts with the South in slaveholding. They directly and professedly uphold the system wherever they have occasion. They tolerate it in the District of Columbia. They directly sustain it in the territories. They allow the slave trade between the states. They conspired with the South in the constitution, that the foreign trade in slaves should not be interrupted by Congress for twenty years. They voted that Arkansas should come into the Union, with a constitution guarding slavery with a two-edged sword, giving the slaveholder a veto upon an emancipating legislature, and the legislature a check upon the repentant slaveholder. They have voted to admit a system that forbids and discourages repentance of the sin of slaveholding, and makes it desperate. All this has been done solemnly and with deliberation, and in legislative form — and the whole nation has tacitly allowed those of its people who chose, to hold slaves. It has never been disreputable, but highly the contrary, to hold slaves in this country. Is not a nation answerable for the vices and crimes which are reputable and popular within its borders? If a nation has any moral influence, any moral standard, is it not responsible for what that standard does not condemn? Has not this nation cast all its presidential votes for two men, guilty at the very moment of the election and all their days before and since, of the crime of slaveholding — Andrew Jackson, a slaveholder and a slave driver, and voted for twice by a majority of the electoral suffrage of this nation, north and south — and Henry Clay, a slaveholder and a notorious compromiser in the service of the infernal system, voted for by the rest of the nation. Jackson chosen by northern men against Adams a northern man. And then a northern man abandoned by northern men, one and the same party, in favor of Clay, a southern slaveholder[.]

We have nothing to do with abolishing slavery, says the Doctor Wayland, either as citizens of the United States, or as men. Our responsibilities for its removal are all limited away. On the very face of our case, it is palpable and grossly evident, we say, that the northern people have at least as much to do with its abolition as the people of the south. They have at least as much to do with its continuation. They are as directly engaged in it. They have the control of it in the national councils wherever it exists within congressional jurisdiction. It is the North, and not the South, that prevents a legislative abolition of it in the District of Columbia. Slavery in the national district is a northern institution, and not a southern. It is the “peculiar institution” there of the North, and not of the South. Is it not so? We declare then, that, as citizens and as men, we at the North have something to do with the abolition of American slavery — ay, that we have every thing to do with it. We can abolish it, and we alone can. We ought to abolish it, and we alone ought to do it, as appears at first impartial glance.

“I think it evident,” says Dr. Wayland, “that as citizens of the United States, we have no power whatever either to abolish slavery in the southern states, or to do any thing of which the direct intention is to abolish it.” We do not perceive the propriety of the Doctor's language when he talks of a thing having an intention. Slaves have intentions, and the Doctor and his friends call them things—but how a thing to be done can have an intention — a “direct intention,” as the Doctcr says, is beyond our slight learning. Perhaps the Doctor meant tendency by intention — and meant to say that we could not do any thing the direct tendency of which is the abolition of southern slavery. That is to say, we, as citizens of the United States, may not vote in Congress against slaveholding in the District of Columbia, or in the territories, or against the slave trade between the states. We may not receive petitions in behalf of those objects — we may not petition Congress — we may not talk against slaveholding — or write against it — or pray against it — or sympathize with our fellow-men in slavery; because each and every one of these acts has a direct tendency to abolish slavery in the southern states. Slavery in the land is a system, a whole system, a custom, a crime, and but one crime wherever committed. It is not warrantable in one place, and not in another. It is not lawful in one state, and not in another. It is one entire, individual, undivided matter of fact every where in the land, as much as murder is —  and if it is denounced and condemned in the District of Columbia by Congress, it is as fatal to it, in the whole country, as if denounced in South Carolina by Congress, or any where else — more fatal to it. A blow struck against it, as existing in that district, would be a blow at the head of it, and it would be mortal, — not one having a direct tendency to kill the system — or a direct intention, as the Doctor hath it, — but a blow destructive in itself. It would fix the brand of infamy on every slaveholder's front throughout the nation. It would render him infamous even in the eyes of Americans. Dr. Wayland could set no limits to his infamy. It would seal him a criminal with the broad seal of the nation, the E pluribus unum. Who would vote for him for President then — who would send him ambassador to London — who put him in Speaker of the House — President of the Senate — Chief Justice of the United States? Who would shake hands with him at the capitol? Now he is first in office, first in honor. Slaveholding is passport to every distinction. We ask Dr. Wayland and his aid-de-camp Major Mordecai Noachus, if a vote by Congress on our petitions, abolishing slavery in the district, and making it capital to enslave a man there, as they would do if they made it penal at all, would not give the system the death blow in the South, even if abolitionists had done nothing to kill it elsewhere. Would not that single enactment do it? Self-evidently it would. Have we not a right, as citizens of the United States, to do this? The Doctor says no. We say, ay.

But not to follow this self-immolated man any farther now, we will say that we need not get a vote from Congress against slavery in order to its abolition there and every where. Congress! what is it? The mere dregs and precipitations, the settlings and sediments of the nation. It is as soulless as a corporation. It has no soul, no mind, no principle, no opinion. It is an echo, and that not always a true one. It is a mere catastrophe—an upshot. It will only mutter the word abolition, after it has become an old story through the country. We have struck slavery its death blow already. We need not contend with the Doctor about the power. “One thing you have done,” said an eminent judge to us, “you have driven the South to come out and declare directly in favor of slavery. Heretofore they have pretended to lament it, as an evil. Now they declare it is a blessing, and a righteous institution.” Have we not, said we, driven them to join the issue, before the world, in favor of slaveholding? “You have,” said the judge. Must they not maintain it before the world, said we, to save the institution from going down? “They must,” he replied. Can they maintain it? said we. “No,” said he, — and yet the judge is not an abolitionist.

We need not contend with this Wayland and wayward President for the power, as citizens or as men, to beat down southern slaveholding. We have exercised the power already, and the South knows it. We have waked the nation to discuss the demerits of the system and the question of the negro man's humanity; and they are discussing it, and amid the flash and fervor of the agitation the foul system dies. It can no more endure it, than owls can noon, or bats sunshine, or ghosts day-break. While Wayland is groping about in his metaphysics to get hold of some puzzle to embarrass us about the power, we will have exercised it to the full, and cleared the land of slavery. Then where will the Doctor find a market for his “limitations?” Slavery is a dead man already, unless Orator Rhett, and Professor Dew, and Colonel McDuffie, and General Hamilton, and doctor this, that and the other one, can maintain the precious creature in the argument, and get the verdict of an enlightened and purged christianity in its favor. To this conclusion it has already come. The question is stated — the issue joined — the pleadings closed — all demurring and abating and delaying past by. And now for the trial. Now, Slavery, hold thine own. The Doctor's question of our having the power comes too late.

SOURCE: Collection from the Miscellaneous Writings of Nathaniel Peabody Rogers, Second Edition, p. 39-44 which states it was published in the Herald of Freedom of October 20, 1838.

Nathaniel Peabody Rogers: Limitations Of Human Responsibilities. — Dr. Wayland, October 6, 1838

We were unpleasantly surprised, on receiving our last number of the “Comprehensive Commentary” and the “Supplement,” from our good anti-slavery friend Boutelle, to find the unfeeling author of the “limitations” posted up, in the frontispiece, by Dr. Jenks, at his own right hand, and directly over the head of old President Dwight. Perhaps this is a sort of peace-offering to the slaveholder—a bit of policy to give the "Commentary" a currency among our “southern brethren.” The Doctor's image would give the Commentary a cordial passport to the heart of every slaveholder. He would expect to find the Bible itself chock full of limitations of human obligations and warrant for slaveholding.

We should not dare send a lad to the Doctor's college, for fear he would teach him this science of “limitations;” a science as fatal to human welfare as the atmosphere of Upas is to healthful respiration. What a kindly blow has the Rev. Doctor here struck at religion and humanity, by this work, with a most significant and appropriate title — “Limitations of Responsibilities!” Abridgment of human obligations! Curtailment of moral obligations! Irresponsibilities to God and man! What a title and a work, to surprise and delight the devil withal! Give me, quoth the devil, these abridgers of human liability. O no, sweet mortals, “ye shall not surely die.” Hath God indeed said so and so? It may be — but then the meaning hath excellent “limitations.” Commend me, quoth the arch-gambler for the exposed soul, to these highly taught rabbies — brought up at foot of Gamaliel, who will ratiocinate the apprehensive mind clear of the trammels of responsibility.

It has been a desideratum with human depravity, from the first transgression down, to discover that this fatal responsibility had limits — some resting place, short of these crucifying requirements. Orthodoxy itself hath at last discovered it, and the fortunate finder is Doctor Francis Wayland.

“Granting slavery to be in violation of the law of God,” says the daring Doctor, “it still remains to be decided, what is our duty respecting it.” In this horrible doctrine we cannot agree, but say rather, that granting slavery, or any thing else, to be in violation of that law, it is decided, and always has been, that our duty is forthwith to labor to our utmost for its immediate suppression.

The Doctor's essay is to “kill the abolitionists dead.” Colonel Mordecai Noah, of the tribe of Issachar, says exultingly, that it is doing it. A band of self-devoted men and women have formed themselves together, to deliver, by the power of simple truth, their poor, soul-withered brethren from a condition that would awaken irrepressible pity in any thing but an under mill-stone. They are succeeding. They have insured success; and this northern Doctor has volunteered, as a sort of Swiss guard, to protect the slaveholder against them in his “paramount fights,” and to “kill” these unoffending and faithful ones “dead.” He has woven a web of sophistry, which it would waste time, and no doubt puzzle our unmetaphysical brains to unravel, in the cunning order in which it is put together. We shall not worry ourselves to thread its labyrinths, or unglue its spider fastenings. In plain housewife style, we take the broomstick of “self-evident truth,” and just poke down this cobweb — dead flies and all, warp and filling, — with the sly old weaver himself, where he sits in his central woof, “cunning and fierce, mixture abhorred.” For see. — Slaveholding is a self-evident crime. We (Doctor and all) are palpably at the bottom of it. It is engendered and fed on our own vicious public (sentiment. We are bound forthwith to correct this sentiment, and thereby abolish slavery. There is no “limitation” about it, and no “two ways about it,” in the expressive parlance. This is better made out, in the statement, than by any help of words with which we are acquainted,—and we here dispose of the whole Doctor.

“No cat has two tails,” quoth the Doctor. Agreed, gays Major Noah, and his gentile brother, the New Hampshire Patriot, “But every cat has one tail more than no cat,” adds the Doctor, “Han't she?” cries Major Noah. “I want to know if she han't,” echoes the New Hampshire Patriot. “Therefore,” concludes the Doctor, (and anti-slavery is extinguished) — “therefore every cat has Three tails.” “Three tails!” exults the epauletted Israelite; “three tails, by our gold-laced gabardine, every cat is a three-tailed bashaw,” and it is “perfectly conclusive to the mind” of the New Hampshire Patriot. Now we hold up any bona fide pussy in the land by the. tail, and all eyes may see that she hath but one. The Doctor cannot argue it into three.

SOURCE: Collection from the Miscellaneous Writings of Nathaniel Peabody Rogers, Second Edition, p. 31-3 which states it was published in the Herald of Freedom of October 6, 1838.