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Whoever visits some estates there, and witnesses the good-humored indulgence of some masters and mistresses, and the affectionate loyalty of some sla… - Harriet Beecher Stowe
" "Whoever visits some estates there, and witnesses the good-humored indulgence of some masters and mistresses, and the affectionate loyalty of some slaves, might be tempted to dream the oft-fabled poetic legend of a patriarchal institution, and all that; but over and above the scene there broods a portentous shadow — the shadow of law. So long as the law considers all these human beings, with beating hearts and living affections, only as so many things belonging to a master — so long as the failure, or misfortune, or imprudence, or death of the kindest owner, may cause them any day to exchange a life of kind protection and indulgence for one of hopeless misery and toil — so long it is impossible to make anything beautiful or desirable in the best regulated administration of slavery.
English
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About Harriet Beecher Stowe
Harriet Elizabeth Beecher Stowe (14 June 1811 – 1 July 1896) was an American abolitionist and writer, most famous as the author of the anti-slavery novel Uncle Tom's Cabin.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Birth Name:
Elizabeth Harriet Beecher
Native Name:
Harriet Beecher
Alternative Names:
Christopher Crowfield
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Harriet Elizabeth Beecher Stowe
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Enrieta Elizabeth Beecher Stowe
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Harriet Elizabeth Beecher
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Harriet Elisabeth Beecher Stowe
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Harriet Elizabeth Beecher-Stowe
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Additional quotes by Harriet Beecher Stowe
I wrote what I did because as a woman, as a mother I was oppressed and broken-hearted, with the sorrows and injustice I saw, because as a Christian I felt the dishonor to Christianity — because as a lover of my country I trembled at the coming day of wrath. It is no merit in the sorrowful that they weep, or to the oppressed and smothering that they gasp and struggle, not to me, that I must speak for the oppressed — who cannot speak for themselves.
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"As the boat stopped, a black woman came running wildly up the plank, darted into the crowd, flew up to where the slave gang sat, and threw her arms round that unfortunate piece of merchandise before enumerate — "John, aged thirty," and with sobs and tears bemoaned him as her husband. But what needs tell the story, told too oft, — every day told, — of heart-strings rent and broken, — the weak broken and torn for the profit and convenience of the strong! It needs not to be told; — every day is telling it, — telling it, too, in the ear of One who is not deaf, though he be long silent."
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