justice and of humanity. Such a spectacle does good to the soul; it
solaces the sorrows of the present, it carries within itself guarantees
for the future.

The sad, profoundly sad, spectacle, is that of nations where crimes make
no noise. Look at Brazil. Like the United States, it has slavery, but it
is an honorable, discreet slavery, of which nothing is said. Whatever
may happen there, no one inquires about it; there are no discussions,
either through the press or in the courts. No party would dare insert
such a question into its platform. One thing, very properly, has been
found to disturb it, and the public sale of slaves has just been
forbidden.

Look, above all, at Spain and its island of Cuba. There, too, is perfect
silence. Nothing, in truth, opposes the belief that Cuba is the abode of
felicity, and that the atrocities of slavery are the monopoly of the
United States. But inquisitive people, who like to search to the bottom
of things, discover that if the masters are very gentle at Havana, the
overseers are scarcely so on their account on the plantations; I have
already given the proof of it. Out of ten slavers that are seized on the
high seas, nine are always destined to Cuba. Spain has forbidden the
slave trade; she has even been compensated for it by the English; but
this does not prevent her from suffering it to be carried on before her
eyes with almost absolute impunity. Her high-sounding phrases change
nothing; the smallest fact is of more value. At Cuba, the landing of
slaves is continual, and the places of disembarkation are known. Now,
the American flag protects no one at the time of disembarking. Why is no
opposition made to this? Why has the importation of negroes tripled in
Cuba? Why does no slaver, American or any other, steer towards Brazil,
since Brazil has _desired_ to put an end to the slave trade? The answer