A. F. R. to Frederick Douglass, April 29, 1859

LETTERS FROM MASSACHUSETSS.---NO. I.

FRIEND DOUGLASS:—I believe I promised, a long time ago, to write a series of letters for your paper, or rather I believe, I promised to write to you, for as what I may write must, of necessity, from my limited means of observation, be personal, and confined within a very narrow circle, perchance I may not interest any but yourself, and the few readers of your paper who know me.

Well, I have not written as I promised not because I have not thought of you; not because I have not wished to write, but because I have not been able to command the time. To-day I am at leisure, and I take the first opportunity to redeem my promise.

The beautiful season of birds and buds has come, the time when we so long to leave the close room and warm fire, that of late seemed so cozy and comfortable, and hie away, to sit upon rocks, and dream by the side of the gurgling water, mingling our drowsy thoughts with its musical tinkle, till rock, water and dream are transfused into a gauzy haze, that floats above and around us, and steals into our senses with a delicious lullaby of repose. Through the long, cold winter, Nature has slept; but we have been awake. Every nerve has been strained, every faculty has been on the alert; we have thought, and felt, and acted with vigor and promptitude; but now, Nature is awakening from her lethargy, and we long for a nap.

I am thoroughly disgusted with all this miserable Sickles affair—more disgusted with the manner of managing it in its legal details, than with the actual crimes of adultery and murder. It was said of old, "the poor have ye always with you;" it may, with equal propriety, be said, the erring and the sinful have ye always with you. That a woman, neglected and wronged by her husband, should bestow her affections and her person on another, is no marvel; and that a man, accustomed to give loose rein to his passions, should take the life of one who had injured him, is still less to be wondered at.— Such things have always been since time began, and the Sickles tragedy is only one more item in the long catalogue of crime. But that a

whole community should, as with one voice, acquit the murderer, is absolutely shocking to all my feelings of justice. Because the provocation was great, is Sickles less a murderer?— How shallow the argument, that because he acted from "motive," (and a motive, by the way, that the community recognized as adequate.) therefore he is insane. Would it not rather be a proof of insanity if he had acted without motive? He has done just what every man says he would do under the circumstances, and what every woman believes it is right to do, and therefore he is insane! Oh! the miserable subterfuge. Why do they not write upon the statute book that a man may kill the paramour of his wife, and it is not murder? Such a course would be open and above board, and we should be spared all this contemptible trickery and aping of justice.

I have spoken of the whole community, and every man and every woman, but of course I do not mean to be taken literally. There are, thank God! exceptions to this sweeping declaration. Just so, when we say the whole American nation are in league with slavery, we do not include those earnest men and women whose whole lives are a protest against the monster iniquity. If Mrs. Sickles had sought out one of the women who stood in teh same relation to her husband which she sustained to Barton Key, and administered to her a draught of poison, would she, think you, have been acquitted?— Would the community have found any excuse for her, or called her crime any thing but murder? Sickles himself may wallow in debauchery, and he is still an honorable gentleman; but if his wife steps aside from the path of conjugal duty, he is dishonored, and his bed is defiled. The Jews, in their ignorance, believed that they were defiled by meats and drinks; but how much more monstrous the doctrine that we can be dishonored and defiled by the acts of another. I believe that we are responsible alone for our own acts, and that honor or disgrace come only from our own deeds.

I do not believe in hanging. I would say to the greatest criminal, the one steeped to the very lips in wickedness, go and sin no more; but I would not call wrong, right, and label murder, insanity. The very people who justify

Sickles on the ground of his great provocation, hold that the master has, and of right ought to have the entire control of the person of the slave. The slave woman must submit to the will of the master, and neither she nor her husband have power to say him nay. How consistent and harmonious is the truth! how monstrously absurd is injustice and wrong! The man who upholds slavery, is involved in an interminable mask of inconsistency and contradiction.

Joshua R. Giddings has been here. How like a veteran warrior he bears himself. It is so refreshing to hear one man speak, who will not spare his words, who metes out justice with an even hand, who speaks of the faults of Daniel Webster here, in Massachusetts, where he is held to be a god, with the rebuking censure that he deserves. When shall we learn to be godly in this sense, that we shall not be respecters of persons? Mr. Giddings' lecture was an account of the famous battle in Congress over the petition of the people of Haverhill. He described the whole scene with thrilling effect. Our present Mayor, Hon. Wm. B. Calhoun—the same man who replied, when urged to give up the struggle, or the life of the Old Man Eloquent, John Quincy Adams, would be sacrificed, "Can he die in a better cause"—was on the platform, and introduced Mr. Giddings to the audience.— Joshua R. Giddings is an old man, and will soon pass away. Where is the young man that shall fill his place?

Friend Douglass, I have written you at random just the thoughts that have come into my head; but I am tired of writing now, and so no more at present.

A. F. R.

SPRINGFIELD, April 29, 1859.