G. E. Robinson to Frederick Douglass, March 12, 1863

A VOICE FROM THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE

To Mr. Douglass—Dear Sir:—For many years I have desired to communicate with you, or rather with your paper, on a subject near and dear to us both; but hitherto there has always been a lion in the way. Now your call to the negro, to arms! to arms! is ringing in mine ear, and I cannot longer hold my peace without sin. You may deny me the privilege of speaking to my oppressed brethren and sisters through the medium of your paper, but I have prayed that you may not; and I feel that high over all, God is still God, and here upon his footstool, man is still man, that the weakest and most oppressed are His infants, nearer His tenderness and love than the self-sufficient and haughty who trample their younger brothers in the high way of life. Science asserts, and history reiterates that the black race is the youngest member of humanity's family, that its weakness is the evidence of immaturity, not lack of natural energy or vigor.

The white race has grown and prospered, and attained his prime; he has arrived at the

glory of manhood. He is ripe fruit on the tree of life; a sun in the zenith; a star on the meridian. As man, he must pass from the perfection of maturity, to the imbecility of age. As ripe fruit, he must drop from the tree, nipped by autumn frosts, and leave the sunshine, the dew and the breeze to nourish the undeveloped bud in due time, with their impartial care. As a sun in the zenith, he must roll downward toward the shades. As a star on the meridian, he must still keep moving, and leave his sublime altitude for those who are climbing up the royal road Such are the convictions that have become a part of my soul. The Light that has penetrated like golden arrows this Egyptian darkness—the voice that has cheered me in the House of Bondage, the far off music of Eternity, bounding and blending the discords of time—The love of God neutralizing the acid of human hate—the wisdom of Omnipotence controlling the foolishness of man. O, my brothers, my sisters, in the grand fraternity of suffering souls, who have watched with me through the long, long night which at length has reached its close--you know we have seen stars shine through the darkness, and we have said to each, 'Are you the bright and particular morning star--the harbinger o' joy—the herald of day? Did you arise in the East?' And they have one and all been extinguished before our straining eyes, leaving us in the rayless blackness of despair.

We watched one ascend from the scaffold to the martyr's heaven, who left a trail of brightness in the firmament as it received him from our sight. His memory is embalmed; his name chiseled on the front of Futurity. We turned from the murderers, the martyr and the brightness, toward the starless East, crying, 'Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night? Will it always be dark? And the clanking of our chains, the groans of our children, the mockings of our tyrants, were the only responses; but in the night, the darkness, the silence, God was opening the door of our salvation, with his own Almighty hand. The heart of the proud Pharoah was being hardened that he should not let this people go until he acknowledged the power that humbled him, and gave glory to whom glory was due. And now what is the lesson of the hour? From God, not man, must we expect help in the time of extremity. From heaven, not earth, shines the morning. Christ and angels are above; hell and devils are below. Doubts and difficulties are around our feet; light and promise encircle our heads. The age of jubilee illuminates the sky like a boundless sun. Liberty, glorious in her perpetual youth, stands in the doorway of the future, beckoning us outward, onward, upward evermore. The prayer of Jesus eighteen hundred years ago is just being answered, the Kingdom is coming at last,

"With Empire's groans,

Burning temples, trampled thrones."

The slave need not fear the furnace heat of the present crisis, for he has nothing to lose but his chains; and everything in the limitless universe to gain. The Pharoahs fold their purple around them, and press their crowns closer; but flames shall consume the one, whirlwinds bear the other from their grasp. The fiat of Jehovah has been heard: 'Let my people go that they may serve me.' Never mind that Slavery was stowed away in the safest place within the ship of State, and that they refused to hurl the Jonah overboard till they were convinced the ship was sinking, and all must inevitably perish unless the offender was given up to Divine Justice. Liberty is too priceless an Elixir to be cast down because offered in an unseemly chalice. It is not for us to say with what tools God shall chisel our destiny. It is enough for us to know that He is the Sculptor, and will give us our niche in the universe. It matters not to us that the edict of Emancipation, which would have written any mortal's name on the crest of eternity, who, eloquent with truth and burning with inspiration, would have sent it sounding over the seas, and poured it with a trumpet tone upon the air of America—appealing to God for protection—posterity for indemnification—the oppressed for aid, and hurling defiance in the face of the world calmly have awaited the onset of hell

and its legions. It matters not to us that but one mortal ever had, or perhaps ever will have, such a golden ladder set upon the earth by which to climb the skies. The loss falls not on us. The glorious Edict was issued, and though spoken in a whisper, we have heard it—the world has heard it, and it can never be unsaid. Though prefaced by an apology to Sin, and the demagogues of Satan, nevertheless it contains the precious pearl we were seeking. The casket was rough, but the gem was gorgeous. We waited patiently and in the eleventh hour deliverance came. In the words of the nation's poet,

"At the nation's hearth and home,

The justice long delayed has come."

Let us accept the priceless pearl with tears of gratitude and songs of thanksgiving. Let us testify to our joy by noble and heroic action worthy of Freemen, and while the greeting is echoed from ocean to ocean, all hail and welcome, brothers and sisters to the royal cheer of Liberty. Let us not forget that to God alone belongs the praise, the honor and the glory forever more.

G. E. ROBINSON.

Upper Egypt, March 12, 1863.