OF MASSACHUSETTS. (BORN 1811, DIED 1874.)
ON THE REPEAL OF THE FUGITIVE SLAVE LAW— IN THE UNITED STATES SENATE, AUGUST 26, 1852.
THURSDAY, 26TH AUGUST, 1852.—The Civil and Diplomatic Appropriation Bill being under consideration, the following amendment was moved by Mr. Hunter, of Virginia, on the recommendation of the Committee on Finance:
"That, where the ministerial officers of the United States have or shall incur extraordinary expense in executing the laws thereof, the payment of which is not specifically provided for, the President of the United States is authorized to allow the payment thereof, under the special taxation of the District or Circuit Court of the District in which the said services have been or shall be rendered, to be paid from the appropriation for defraying the expenses of the Judiciary."
Mr. Sumner seized the opportunity for which he had been waiting, and at once moved the following amendment to the amendment:
"Provided, That no such allowance shall be authorized for any expenses incurred in executing the Act of September 18, 1850, for the surrender of fugitives from service or labor; which said Act is hereby repealed."
On this he took the floor, and spoke as follows:
MR. PRESIDENT,
Here is a provision for extraordinary expense incurred in executing the laws of the United States. Extraordinary expenses! Sir, beneath these specious words lurks the very subject on which, by a solemn vote of this body, I was refused a hearing. Here it is; no longer open to the charge of being an "abstraction," but actually presented for practical legislation; not introduced by me, but by the Senator from Virginia (Mr. Hunter), on the recommendation of an important committee of the Senate; not brought forward weeks ago, when there was ample time for discussion, but only at this moment, without any reference to the late period of the session. The amendment which I offer proposes to remove one chief occasion of these extraordinary expenses. Beyond all controversy or cavil it is strictly in order. And now, at last, among these final, crowded days of our duties here, but at this earliest opportunity, I am to be heard,—not as a favor, but as a right. The graceful usages of this body may be abandoned, but the established privileges of debate cannot be abridged. Parliamentary courtesy may be forgotten, but parliamentary law must prevail. The subject is broadly before the Senate. By the blessing of God it shall be discussed.
Sir, a severe lawgiver of early Greece vainly sought to secure permanence for his imperfect institutions by providing that the citizen who at any time attempted their repeal or alteration should appear in the public assembly with a halter about his neck, ready to be drawn, if his proposition failed. A tyrannical spirit among us, in unconscious imitation of this antique and discarded barbarism, seeks to surround an offensive institution with similar safeguard.
In the existing distemper of the public mind, and at this present juncture, no man can enter upon the service which I now undertake, with-out personal responsibility, such as can be sustained only by that sense of duty which, under God, is always our best support. That personal responsibility I accept. Before the Senate and the country let me be held accountable for this act and for every word which I utter.
With me, Sir, there is no alternative. Painfully convinced of the unutterable wrong and woe of Slavery,—profoundly believing, that, according to the true spirit of the Constitution and the sentiments of the Fathers, it can find no place under our National Government,—that it is in every respect sectional, and in no respect national,—that it is always and everywhere creature and dependent of the States, and never anywhere creature or dependent of the Nation,—and that the Nation can never, by legislative or other act, impart to it any support, under the Constitution of the United States,—with these convictions I could not allow this session to reach its close without making or seizing an opportunity to declare myself openly against the usurpation, injustice, and cruelty of the late intolerable enactment for the recovery of fugitive slaves. Full well I know, Sir, the difficulties of this discussion, arising from prejudices of opinion and from adverse conclusions strong and sincere as my own. Full well I know that I am in a small minority, with few here to whom I can look for sympathy or support. Full well I know that I must utter things unwelcome to many in this body, which I cannot do without pain. Full well I know that the institution of Slavery in our country, which I now proceed to consider, is as sensitive as it is powerful, possessing a power to shake the whole land, with a sensitiveness that shrinks and trembles at the touch. But while these things may properly prompt me to caution and reserve, they cannot change my duty, or my determination to perform it. For this I willingly forget myself and all personal consequences. The favor and good-will of my fellow-citizens, of my brethren of the Senate, Sir, grateful to me as they justly are, I am ready, if required, to sacrifice. Whatever I am or may be I freely offer to this cause.
Here allow, for one moment, a reference to myself and my position. Sir, I have never been a politician. The slave of principles, I call no party master. By sentiment, education, and conviction a friend of Human Rights in their utmost expansion, I have ever most sincerely embraced the Democratic Idea,—not, indeed, as represented or professed by any party, but according to its real significance, as transfigured in the Declaration of Independence and in the injunctions of Christianity. In this idea I see no narrow advantage merely for individuals or classes, but the sovereignty of the people, and the greatest happiness of all secured by equal laws. Amidst the vicissitudes of public affairs I shall hold fast always to this idea, and to any political party which truly embraces it.
Party does not constrain me; nor is my independence lessened by any relations to the office which gives me a title to be heard on this floor. Here, Sir, I speak proudly. By no effort, by no desire of my own, I find myself a Senator of the United States. Never before have I held public office of any kind. With the ample opportunities of private life I was content. No tombstone for me could bear a fairer inscription than this: "Here lies one who, without the honors or emoluments of public station, did something for his fellowmen." From such simple aspirations I was taken away by the free choice of my native Commonwealth, and placed at this responsible post of duty, without personal obligation of any kind, beyond what was implied in my life and published words. The earnest friends by whose confidence I was first designated asked nothing from me, and throughout the long conflict which ended in my election rejoiced in the position which I most carefully guarded. To all my language was uniform: that I did not desire to be brought forward; that I would do nothing to promote the result; that I had no pledges or promises to offer; that the office should seek me, and not I the office; and that it should find me in all respects an independent man, bound to no party and to no human being, but only, according to my best judgment, to act for the good of all. Again, Sir, I speak with pride, both for myself and others, when I add that these avowals found a sympathizing response. In this spirit I have come here, and in this spirit I shall speak to-day.
Rejoicing in my independence, and claiming nothing from party ties, I throw myself upon the candor and magnanimity of the Senate. I ask your attention; I trust not to abuse it. I may speak strongly, for I shall speak openly and from the strength of my convictions. I may speak warmly, for I shall speak from the heart. But in no event can I forget the amenities which belong to debate, and which especially become this body. Slavery I must condemn with my whole soul; but here I need only borrow the language of slaveholders; nor would it accord with my habits or my sense of justice to exhibit them as the impersonation of the institution—Jefferson calls it the "enormity"—which they cherish. Of them I do not speak; but without fear and without favor, as without impeachment of any person, I assail this wrong. Again, Sir, I may err; but it will be with the Fathers. I plant myself on the ancient ways of the Republic, with its grandest names, its surest landmarks, and all its original altar-fires about me.
And now, on the very threshold, I encounter the objection, that there is a final settlement, in principle and substance, of the question of slavery, and that all discussion of it is closed. Both the old political parties, by formal resolutions, in recent conventions at Baltimore, have united in this declaration. On a subject which for years has agitated the public mind, which yet palpitates in every heart and burns on every tongue, which in its immeasurable importance dwarfs all other subjects, which by its constant and gigantic presence throws a shadow across these halls, which at this very time calls for appropriations to meet extraordinary expenses it has caused, they impose the rule of silence. According to them, Sir, we may speak of everything except that alone which is most present in all our minds.
To this combined effort I might fitly reply, that, with flagrant inconsistency, it challenges the very discussion it pretends to forbid. Their very declaration, on the eve of an election, is, of course, submitted to the consideration and ratification of the people. Debate, inquiry, discussion, are the necessary consequence. Silence becomes impossible. Slavery, which you profess to banish from public attention, openly by your invitation enters every political meeting and every political convention. Nay, at this moment it stalks into this Senate, crying, like the daughters of the horseleech, "Give! give."
But no unanimity of politicians can uphold the baseless assumption, that a law, or any conglomerate of laws, under the name of compromise, or howsoever called, is final. Nothing can be plainer than this,—that by no parliamentary device or knot can any legislature tie the hands of a succeeding legislature, so as to prevent the full exercise of its constitutional powers. Each legislature, under a just sense of its responsibility, must judge for itself; and if it think proper, it may revise, or amend, or absolutely undo the work of any predecessor. The laws of the Medes and Persians are said proverbially to have been unalterable; but they stand forth in history as a single example where the true principles of all law have been so irrationally defied.
To make a law final, so as not to be reached by Congress, is, by mere legislation, to fasten a new provision on the Constitution. Nay, more; it gives to the law a character which the very Constitution does not possess. The wise Fathers did not treat the country as a Chinese foot, never to grow after infancy; but, anticipating progress, they declared expressly that their great Act is not final. According to the Constitution itself, there is not one of its existing provisions—not even that with regard to fugitives from labor—which may not at all times be reached by amendment, and thus be drawn into debate. This is rational and just. Sir, nothing from man's hands, nor law, nor constitution, can be final. Truth alone is final.
Inconsistent and absurd, this effort is tyrannical also. The responsibility for the recent Slave Act, and for slavery everywhere within the jurisdiction of Congress, necessarily involves the right to discuss them. To separate these is impossible. Like the twenty-fifth rule of the House of Representatives against petitions on Slavery,—now repealed and dishonored,—the Compromise, as explained and urged, is a curtailment of the actual powers of legislation, and a perpetual denial of the indisputable principle, that the right to deliberate is coextensive with the responsibility for an act. To sustain Slavery it is now proposed to trample on free speech. In any country this would be grievous; but here, where the Constitution expressly provides against abridging freedom of speech, it is a special outrage. In vain do we condemn the despotisms of Europe, while we borrow the rigors with which they repress Liberty, and guard their own uncertain power. For myself, in no factious spirit, but solemnly and in loyalty to the Constitution, as a Senator of the United States, representing a free Commonwealth, I protest against this wrong.
On Slavery, as on every other subject, I claim the right to be heard. That right I cannot, I will not abandon. "Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties"; these are glowing words, flashed from the soul of John Milton in his struggles with English tyranny. With equal fervor they could be echoed now by every American not already a slave.
But, Sir, this effort is impotent as tyrannical. Convictions of the heart cannot be repressed. Utterances of conscience must be heard. They break forth with irrepressible might. As well attempt to check the tides of ocean, the currents of the Mississippi, or the rushing waters of Niagara. The discussion of Slavery will proceed, wherever two or three are gathered together,—by the fireside, on the highway, at the public meeting, in the church. The movement against Slavery is from the Everlasting Arm. Even now it is gathering its forces, soon to be confessed everywhere. It may not be felt yet in the high places of office and power, but all who can put their ears humbly to the ground will hear and comprehend its incessant and advancing tread.
The relations of the National Government to Slavery, though plain and obvious, are constantly misunderstood. A popular belief at this moment makes Slavery a national institution, and of course renders its support a national duty. The extravagance of this error can hardly be surpassed. An institution which our fathers most carefully omitted to name in the Constitution, which, according to the debates in the Convention, they refused to cover with any "sanction," and which, at the original organization of the Government, was merely sectional, existing nowhere on the national territory, is now, above all other things, blazoned as national. Its supporters pride themselves as national. The old political parties, while upholding it, claim to be national. A National Whig is simply a Slavery Whig, and a National Democrat is simply a Slavery Democrat, in contradistinction to all who regard Slavery as a sectional institution, within the exclusive control of the States and with which the nation has nothing to do.
As Slavery assumes to be national, so, by an equally strange perversion, Freedom is degraded to be sectional, and all who uphold it, under the National Constitution, are made to share this same epithet. Honest efforts to secure its blessings everywhere within the jurisdiction of Congress are scouted as sectional; and this cause, which the founders of our National Government had so much at heart, is called Sectionalism. These terms, now belonging to the common places of political speech, are adopted and misapplied by most persons without reflection. But here is the power of Slavery. According to a curious tradition of the French language, Louis XIV., the Grand Monarch, by an accidental error of speech, among supple courtiers, changed the gender of a noun. But slavery does more. It changes word for word. It teaches men to say national instead of sectional, and sectional instead of national.
Slavery national! Sir, this is a mistake and absurdity, fit to have a place in some new collection of Vulgar Errors, by some other Sir Thomas Browne, with the ancient, but exploded stories, that the toad has a gem in its head, and that ostriches digest iron. According to the true spirit of the Constitution, and the sentiments of the Fathers, Slavery, and not Freedom, is sectional, while Freedom, and not Slavery, is national. On this unanswerable proposition I take my stand, and here commences my argument.
The subject presents itself under two principal heads: First, the true relations of the National Government to Slavery, wherein it will appear that there is no national fountain from which Slavery can be derived, and no national power, under the Constitution, by which it can be supported. Enlightened by this general survey, we shall be prepared to consider, secondly, the true nature of the provision for the rendition of fugitives from service, and herein especially the unconstitutional and offensive legislation of Congress in pursuance thereof.
I.
And now for THE TRUE RELATIONS OF THE NATIONAL GOVERNMENT TO SLAVERY. These are readily apparent, if we do not neglect well-established principles.
If slavery be national, if there be any power in the National Government to withhold this institution,—as in the recent Slave Act,—it must be by virtue of the Constitution. Nor can it be by mere inference, implication, or conjecture. According to the uniform admission of courts and jurists in Europe, again and again promulgated in our country, slavery can be derived only from clear and special recognition. "The state of Slavery," said Lord Mansfield, pronouncing judgment in the great case of Sommersett, "is of such a nature that it is incapable of being introduced on any reasons, moral or political, but only by positive law.... It is so odious, that nothing can be suffered to support it but positive law."
Of course every power to uphold slavery must have an origin as distinct as that of Slavery itself. Every presumption must be as strong against such a power as against slavery. A power so peculiar and offensive, so hostile to reason, so repugnant to the law of Nature and the inborn rights of man,—which despoils its victim of the fruits of labor,—which substitutes concubinage for marriage,—which abrogates the relation of parent and child,—which, by denial of education, abases the intellect, prevents a true knowledge of God, and murders the very soul,—which, amidst a plausible physical comfort, degrades man, created in the divine image, to the state of a beast,—such a power, so eminent, so transcendent, so tyrannical, so unjust, can find no place in any system of government, unless by virtue of positive sanction. It can spring from no doubtful phrase. It must be declared by unambiguous words, incapable of a double sense.
Sir, such, briefly, are the rules of interpretation, which, as applied to the Constitution, fill it with the breath of freedom,—
"Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt."
To the history and prevailing sentiments of the times we may turn for further assurance. In the spirit of freedom the Constitution was formed. In this spirit our fathers always spoke and acted. In this spirit the National Government was first organized under Washington. And here I recall a scene, in itself a touch-stone of the period, and an example for us, upon which we may look with pure national pride, while we learn anew the relations of the National Government to Slavery.
The Revolution was accomplished. The feeble Government of the Confederation passed away. The Constitution, slowly matured in a National Convention, discussed before the people, defended by masterly pens, was adopted. The Thirteen States stood forth a Nation, where was unity without consolidation, and diversity without discord. The hopes of all were anxiously hanging upon the new order of things and the mighty procession of events. With signal unanimity Washington was chosen President. Leaving his home at Mount Vernon, he repaired to New York,—where the first Congress had commenced its session,—to assume his place as Chief of the Republic. On the 30th of April, 1789, the organization of the Government was completed by his inauguration. Entering the Senate Chamber, where the two Houses were assembled, he was informed that they awaited his readiness to receive the oath of office. Without delay, attended by the Senators and Representatives, with friends and men of mark gathered about him, he moved to the balcony in front of the edifice. A countless multitude, thronging the open ways, and eagerly watching this great espousal,
"With reverence look on his majestic face,
Proud to be less, but of his godlike race."
The oath was administered by the Chancellor of New York. At such time, and in such presence, beneath the unveiled heavens, Washington first took this vow upon his lips: "I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States."
Over the President, on this new occasion, floated the national flag, with its stripes of red and white, its stars on a field of blue. As his patriot eye rested upon the glowing ensign, what currents must have rushed swiftly through his soul. In the early days of the Revolution, in those darkest hours about Boston, after the Battle of Bunker Hill, and before the Declaration of Independence, the thirteen stripes had been first unfurled by him, as the emblem of Union among the Colonies for the sake of Freedom. By him, at that time, they had been named the Union Flag. Trial, struggle, and war were now ended, and the Union, which they first heralded, was unalterably established. To every beholder these memories, must have been full of pride and consolation. But, looking back upon the scene, there is one circumstance which, more than all its other associations, fills the soul,—more even than the suggestions of Union, which I prize so much. AT THIS MOMENT, WHEN WASHINGTON TOOK HIS FIRST OATH TO SUPPORT THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES, THE NATIONAL ENSIGN, NOWHERE WITHIN THE NATIONAL TERRITORY, COVERED A SINGLE SLAVE. Then, indeed, was Slavery Sectional, and Freedom National.
On the sea an execrable piracy, the trade in slaves, to the national scandal, was still tolerated under the national flag. In the States, as a sectional institution, beneath the shelter of local laws, Slavery unhappily found a home. But in the only terrritories at this time belonging to the nation, the broad region of the Northwest, it was already made impossible, by the Ordinance of Freedom, even before the adoption of the Constitution. The District of Columbia, with its Fatal Dowry, was not yet acquired.
The government thus organized was Anti-slavery in character. Washington was a slave-holder, but it would be unjust to his memory not to say that he was an Abolitionist also. His opinions do not admit of question.
By the side of Washington, as, standing beneath the national flag, he swore to support the Constitution, were illustrious men, whose lives and recorded words now rise in judgment. There was John Adams, the Vice-President, great vindicator and final negotiator of our national independence, whose soul, flaming with Freedom, broke forth in the early declaration, that "consenting to Slavery is a sacrilegious breach of trust," and whose immitigable hostility to this wrong is immortal in his descendants. There was also a companion in arms and attached friend, of beautiful genius, the yet youthful and "incomparable" Hamilton,—fit companion in early glories and fame with that darling of English history, Sir Philip Sidney, to whom the latter epithet has been reserved,—who, as member of the Abolition Society of New York, had recently united in a solemn petition for those who, though "free by the laws of God; are held in Slavery by the laws of this State." There, too, was a noble spirit, of spotless virtue, the ornament of human nature, who, like the sun, ever held an unerring course,—John Jay. Filling the important post of Secretary for Foreign Affairs under the Confederation, he found time to organize the "Society for Promoting the Manumission of Slaves" in New York, and to act as its President, until, by the nomination of Washington, he became Chief Justice of the United States. In his sight Slavery was an "iniquity," "a sin of crimson dye," against which ministers of the Gospel should testify, and which the Government should seek in every way to abolish. "Till America comes into this measure," he wrote, "her prayers to Heaven for liberty will be impious. This is a strong expression, but it is just. Were I in your legislature, I would prepare a bill for the purpose with great care, and I would never cease moving it till it became a law or I ceased to be a member." Such words as these, fitly coming from our leaders, belong to the true glories of the country:
"While we such precedents can boast at home,
Keep thy Fabricius and thy Cato, Rome!"
They stood not alone. The convictions and earnest aspirations of the country were with them. At the North these were broad and general. At the South they found fervid utterance from slaveholders. By early and precocious efforts for "total emancipation," the author of the Declaration of Independence placed himself foremost among the Abolitionists of the land. In language now familiar to all, and which can never die, he perpetually denounced Slavery. He exposed its pernicious influence upon master as well as slave, declared that the love of justice and the love of country pleaded equally for the slave, and that "the abolition of domestic slavery was the greatest object of desire." He believed that "the sacred side was gaining daily recruits," and confidently looked to the young for the accomplishment of this good work. In fitful sympathy with Jefferson was another honored son of Virginia, the Orator of Liberty, Patrick Henry, who, while confessing that he was a master of slaves, said: "I will not, I cannot justify it. However culpable my conduct, I will so far pay my devoir to virtue as to own the excellence and rectitude of her precepts, and lament my want of conformity to them." At this very period, in the Legislature of Maryland, on a bill for the relief of oppressed slaves, a young man, afterwards by consummate learning and forensic powers acknowledged head of the American bar, William Pinkney, in a speech of earnest, truthful eloquence,—better for his memory than even his professional fame,—branded Slavery as "iniquitous and most dishonorable," "founded in a disgraceful traffic," "its continuance as shameful as its origin," and he openly declared, that "by the eternal principles of natural justice, no master in the State has a right to hold his slave in bondage for a single hour."
At the risk of repetition, but for the sake of clearness, review now this argument, and gather it together. Considering that Slavery is of such an offensive character that it can find sanction only in "positive law," and that it has no such "positive" sanction in the Constitution,—that the Constitution, according to its preamble, was ordained to "establish justice" and "secure the blessings of liberty,"—that, in the Convention which framed it, and also elsewhere at the time, it was declared not to sanction slavery,—that, according to the Declaration of Independence, and the Address of the Continental Congress, the nation was dedicated to "liberty," and the "rights of human nature,"—that, according to the principles of the common law, the Constitution must be interpreted openly, actively, and perpetually for freedom,—that, according to the decision of the Supreme Court, it acts upon slaves, not as property, but as PERSONS,—that, at the first organization of the national Government under Washington, Slavery had no national favor, existed nowhere on the national territory, beneath the national flag, but was openly condemned by Nation, Church, Colleges, and Literature of the time,—and, finally, that, according to an amendment of the Constitution, the National Government can exercise only powers delegated to it, among which is none to support Slavery,—considering these things, Sir, it is impossible to avoid the single conclusion, that Slavery is in no respect a national institution, and that the Constitution nowhere upholds property in man.
There is one other special provision of the Constitution, which I have reserved to this stage, not so much from its superior importance, but because it fitly stands by itself. This alone, if practically applied, would carry Freedom to all within its influence. It is an amendment proposed by the First Congress, as follows:
"No person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property,
without due process of law."
Under this great aegis the liberty of every person within the national jurisdiction is unequivocally placed. I say every person. Of this there can be no question. The word "person" in the Constitution embraces every human being within its sphere, whether Caucasian, Indian, or African, from the president to the slave. Show me a person within the national jurisdiction, and I confidently claim for him this protection, no matter what his condition or race or color. The natural meaning of the clause is clear, but a single fact of its history places it in the broad light of noon. As originally recommended by Virginia, North Carolina, and Rhode Island, it was restricted to the freeman. Its language was, "No freeman ought to be deprived of his life, liberty, or property, but by the law of the land." In rejecting this limitation, the authors of the amendment revealed their purpose, that no person, under the National Government, of whatever character, should be deprived of liberty without due process of law,—that is, without due presentment, indictment, or other judicial proceeding. But this amendment is nothing less than an express guaranty of Personal Liberty, and an express prohibition of its invasion anywhere, at least within the national jurisdiction.
Sir, apply these principles, and Slavery will again be as when Washington took his first oath as President. The Union Flag of the Republic will become once more the flag of Freedom, and at all points within the national jurisdiction will refuse to cover a slave. Beneath its beneficent folds, wherever it is carried, on land or sea, slavery will disappear, like darkness under the arrows of the ascending sun,—like the Spirit of Evil before the Angel of the Lord.
In all national territories Slavery will be impossible.
On the high seas, under the national flag, Slavery will be impossible.
In the District of Columbia Slavery will instantly cease.
Inspired by these principles, Congress can give no sanction to Slavery by the admission of new slave States.
Nowhere under the Constitution can the Nation, by legislation or otherwise, support Slavery, hunt slaves, or hold property in man.
Such, sir, are my sincere convictions. According to the Constitution, as I understand it, in the light of the past and of its true principles, there is no other conclusion which is rational or tenable, which does not defy authoritative rules of interpretation, does not falsify indisputable facts of history, does not affront the public opinion in which it had its birth, and does not dishonor the memory of the fathers. And yet politicians of the hour undertake to place these convictions under formal ban. The generous sentiments which filled the early patriots, and impressed upon the government they founded, as upon the coin they circulated, the image and superscription of LIBERTY, have lost their power. The slave-masters, few in number, amounting to not more than three hundred and fifty thousand, according to the recent census, have succeeded in dictating the policy of the National Government, and have written SLAVERY on its front. The change, which began in the desire for wealth, was aggravated by the desire for political predominance. Through Slavery the cotton crop increased with its enriching gains; through Slavery States became part of the slave power. And now an arrogant and unrelenting ostracism is applied, not only to all who express themselves against Slavery, but to every man unwilling to be its menial. A novel test for office is introduced, which would have excluded all the fathers of the Republic,—even Washington, Jefferson, and Franklin!
Yes, Sir! Startling it may be, but indisputable. Could these revered demigods of history once again descend upon earth and mingle in our affairs, not one of them could receive a nomination from the National Convention of either of the two old political parties! Out of the convictions of their hearts and the utterances of their lips against Slavery they would be condemned.
This single fact reveals the extent to which the National Government has departed from its true course and its great examples. For myself, I know no better aim under the Constitution than to bring the Government back to the precise position on this question it occupied on the auspicious morning of its first organization by Washington,
"Nunc retrorsum
Vela dare, atque iterare cursus
. . . . . . relictos,"
that the sentiments of the Fathers may again prevail with our rulers, and the National Flag may nowhere shelter Slavery.
To such as count this aspiration unreasonable let me commend a renowned and life-giving precedent of English history. As early as the days of Queen Elizabeth, a courtier boasted that the air of England was too pure for a slave to breathe, and the Common Law was said to forbid Slavery. And yet, in the face of this vaunt, kindred to that of our fathers, and so truly honorable, slaves were introduced from the West Indies. The custom of Slavery gradually prevailed. Its positive legality was affirmed, in professional opinions, by two eminent lawyers, Talbot and Yorke, each afterwards Lord Chancellor. It was also affirmed on the bench by the latter as Lord Hardwicke. England was already a Slave State. The following advertisement, copied from a London newspaper, The Public Advertiser, of November 22, 1769, shows that the journals there were disfigured as some of ours, even in the District of Columbia.
"To be sold, a black girl, the property of J. B., eleven years of age, who is extremely handy, works at her needle tolerably, and speaks English perfectly well; is of an excellent temper and willing disposition. Inquire of her owner at the Angel Inn, behind St. Clement's Church, in the Strand."
At last, in 1772, only three years after this advertisement, the single question of the legality of Slavery was presented to Lord Mansfield, on a writ of habeas corpus. A poor negro, named Sommersett, brought to England as a slave, became ill, and, with an inhumanity disgraceful even to Slavery, was turned adrift upon the world. Through the charity of an estimable man, the eminent Abolitionist, Granville Sharp, he was restored to health, when his unfeeling and avaricious master again claimed him as bondman. The claim was repelled. After elaborate and protracted discussion in Westminster Hall, marked by rarest learning and ability, Lord Mansfield, with discreditable reluctance, sullying his great judicial name, but in trembling obedience to the genius of the British Constitution, pronounced a decree which made the early boast a practical verity, and rendered Slavery forever impossible in England. More than fourteen thousand persons, at that time held as slaves, and breathing English air,—four times as many as are now found in this national metropolis,—stepped forth in the happiness and dignity of free men.
With this guiding example I cannot despair. The time will yet come when the boast of our fathers will be made a practical verity also, and Court or Congress, in the spirit of this British judgment, will proudly declare that nowhere under the Constitution can man hold property in man. For the Republic such a decree will be the way of peace and safety. As Slavery is banished from the national jurisdiction, it will cease to vex our national politics. It may linger in the States as a local institution; but it will no longer engender national animosities, when it no longer demands national support.
II.
From this general review of the relations of the National Government to Slavery, I pass to the consideration of THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PROVISION FOR THE RENDITION OF FUGITIVES FROM SERVICE, embracing an examination of this provision in the Constitution, and especially of the recent Act of Congress in pursuance thereof. As I begin this discussion, let me bespeak anew your candor. Not in prejudice, but in the light of history and of reason, we must consider this subject. The way will then be easy and the conclusion certain.
Much error arises from the exaggerated importance now attached to this provision, and from assumptions with regard to its origin and primitive character. It is often asserted that it was suggested by some special difficulty, which had become practically and extensively felt, anterior to the Constitution. But this is one of the myths or fables with which the supporters of Slavery have surrounded their false god. In the articles of Confederation, while provision is made for the surrender of fugitive criminals, nothing is said of fugitive slaves or servants; and there is no evidence in any quarter, until after the National Convention, of hardship or solicitude on this account. No previous voice was heard to express desire for any provision on the subject. The story to the contrary is a modern fiction.
I put aside, as equally fabulous, the common saying, that this provision was one of the original compromises of the Constitution, and an essential condition of Union. Though sanctioned by eminent judicial opinions, it will be found that this statement is hastily made, without any support in the records of the Convention, the only authentic evidence of the compromises; nor will it be easy to find any authority for it in any contemporary document, speech, published letter, or pamphlet of any kind. It is true that there were compromises at the formation of the Constitution, which were the subject of anxious debate; but this was not one of them.
There was a compromise between the small and large States, by which equality was secured to all the States in the Senate.
There was another compromise finally carried, under threats from the South, on the motion of a New England member, by which the Slave States are allowed Representatives according to the whole number of free persons and "three fifths of all other persons," thus securing political power on account of their slaves, in consideration that direct taxes should be apportioned in the same way. Direct taxes have been imposed at only four brief intervals. The political power has been constant, and at this moment sends twenty-one members to the other House.
There was a third compromise, not to be mentioned without shame. It was that hateful bargain by which Congress was restrained until 1808 from the prohibition of the foreign Slave-trade, thus securing, down to that period, toleration for crime. This was pertinaciously pressed by the South, even to the extent of absolute restriction on Congress. John Rutledge said:
"If the Convention thinks that North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia will ever agree to the Plan (the National Constitution), unless their right to import slaves be untouched, the expectation is vain. The people of those States will never be such fools as to give up so important an interest." Charles Pinckney said: "South Carolina can never receive the Plan, if it prohibits the slave-trade." Charles Cotesworth Pinckney "thought himself bound to declare candidly, that he did not think South Carolina would stop her importations of slaves in any short time." The effrontery of the slave-masters was matched by the sordidness of the Eastern members, who yielded again. Luther Martin, the eminent member of the Convention, in his contemporary address to the Legislature of Maryland, described the compromise. "I found," he said, "The Eastern States, notwithstanding their aversion to Slavery, were very willing to indulge the Southern States at least with a temporary liberty to prosecute the slave-trade, provided the Southern States would in their turn gratify them by laying no restriction on navigation acts." The bargain was struck, and at this price the Southern States gained the detestable indulgence. At a subsequent day Congress branded the slave-trade as piracy, and thus, by solemn legislative act, adjudged this compromise to be felonious and wicked.
Such are the three chief original compromises of the Constitution and essential conditions of Union. The case of fugitives from service is not of these. During the Convention it was not in any way associated with these. Nor is there any evidence from the records of this body, that the provision on this subject was regarded with any peculiar interest. As its absence from the Articles of Confederation had not been the occasion of solicitude or de-sire, anterior to the National Convention, so it did not enter into any of the original plans of the Constitution. It was introduced tardily, at a late period of the Convention, and adopted with very little and most casual discussion. A few facts show how utterly unfounded are recent assumptions.
The National Convention was convoked to meet at Philadelphia on the second Monday in May, 1787. Several members appeared at this time, but, a majority of the States not being represented, those present adjourned from day to day until the 25th, when the Convention was organized by the choice of George Washington as President. On the 28th a few brief rules and orders were adopted. On the next day, they commenced their great work.
On the same day, Edmund Randolph, of slaveholding Virginia, laid before the Convention a series of fifteen resolutions, containing his plan for the establishment of a New National Government. Here was no allusion to fugitives slaves.
Also, on the same day, Charles Pinckney, of slaveholding South Carolina, laid before the Convention what was called "A Draft of a Federal Government, to be agreed upon between the Free and Independent States of America," an elaborate paper, marked by considerable minuteness of detail. Here are provisions, borrowed from the Articles of Confederation, securing to the citizens of each State equal privileges, in the several States, giving faith to the public records of the States, and ordaining the surrender of fugitives from justice. But this draft, though from the flaming guardian of the slave interest, contained no allusion to fugitive slaves.
In the course of the Convention other plans were brought forward: on the 15th of June, aseries of eleven propositions by Mr. Paterson, of New Jersey, "so as to render the Federal Constitution adequate to the exigencies of Government and the preservation of the Union"; on the 18th June, eleven propositions by Mr. Hamilton, of New York, "containing his ideas of a suitable plan of Government for the United States" and on the 19th June, Mr. Randolph's resolutions, originally offered on the 29th May, "as altered, amended, and agreed to in Committee of the Whole House." On the 26th July, twenty-three resolutions, already adopted on different days in the Convention, were referred to a "Committee of Detail," for reduction to the form of a Constitution. On the 6th August this Committee reported the finished draft of a Constitution. And yet in all these resolutions, plans, and drafts, seven in number, proceeding from eminent members and from able committees, no allusion is made to fugitive slaves. For three months the Convention was in session, and not a word uttered on this subject.
At last, on the 28th August, as the Convention was drawing to a close, on the consideration of the article providing for the privileges of citizens in different States, we meet the first reference to this matter, in words worthy of note. "General (Charles Cotesworth) Pinckney was not satisfied with it. He SEEMED to wish some provision should be included in favor of property in slaves." But he made no proposition. Unwilling to shock the Convention, and uncertain in his own mind, he only seemed to wish such a provision. In this vague expression of a vague desire this idea first appeared. In this modest, hesitating phrase is the germ of the audacious, unhesitating Slave Act. Here is the little vapor, which has since swollen, as in the Arabian tale, to the power and dimensions of a giant. The next article under discussion provided for the surrender of fugitives from justice. Mr. Butler and Mr. Charles Pinckney, both from South Carolina, now moved openly to require "fugitive slaves and servants to be delivered up like criminals." Here was no disguise. With Hamlet, it was now said in spirit,
"Seems, Madam! Nay it is. I know not seems."
But the very boldness of the effort drew attention and opposition. Mr. Wilson, of Pennsylvania, the learned jurist and excellent man, at once objected: "This would oblige the Executive of the State to do it at the public expense." Mr. Sherman, of Connecticut, "saw no more propriety in the public seizing and surrendering a slave or servant than a horse." Under the pressure of these objections, the offensive proposition was withdrawn,—never more to be renewed. The article for the surrender of criminals was then unanimously adopted. On the next day, 29th August, profiting by the suggestions already made, Mr. Butler moved a proposition,—substantially like that now found in the Constitution,—for the surrender, not of "fugitive slaves," as originally proposed, but simply of "persons bound to service or labor," which, without debate or opposition of any kind, was unanimously adopted.'
Here, palpably, was no labor of compromise, no adjustment of conflicting interest,—nor even any expression of solicitude. The clause finally adopted was vague and faint as the original suggestion. In its natural import it is not applicable to slaves. If supposed by some to be applicable, it is clear that it was supposed by others to be inapplicable. It is now insisted that the term "persons bound to service," or "held to service," as expressed in the final revision, is the equivalent or synonym for "slaves." This interpretation is rebuked by an incident to which reference has been already made, but which will bear repetition. On the 13th September—a little more than a fortnight after the clause was adopted, and when, if deemed to be of any significance, it could not have been forgotten—the very word "service," came under debate, and received a fixed meaning. It was unanimously adopted as a substitute for "servitude" in another part of the Constitution, for the reason that it expressed "the obligations of free persons," while the other expressed "the condition of slaves." In the face of this authentic evidence, reported by Mr. Madison, it is difficult to see how the term "persons held to service" can be deemed to express anything beyond the "obligations of free persons." Thus, in the light of calm inquiry, does this exaggerated clause lose its importance.
The provision, showing itself thus tardily, and so slightly regarded in the National Convention, was neglected in much of the contemporaneous discussion before the people. In the Conventions of South Carolina, North Carolina,and Virginia, it was commended as securing important rights, though on this point there was difference of opinion. In the Virginia Convention, an eminent character, Mr. George Mason, with others, expressly declared that there was "no security of property coming within this section." In the other Conventions it was disregarded. Massachusetts, while exhibiting peculiar sensitiveness at any responsibility for slavery, seemed to view it with unconcern. One of her leading statesmen, General Heath, in the debates of the State Convention, strenuously asserted, that, in ratifying the Constitution, the people of Massachusetts "would do nothing to hold the blacks in slavery." "The Federalist," in its classification of the powers of Congress, describes and groups a large number as "those which provide for the harmony and proper intercourse among the States," and therein speaks of the power over public records, standing next in the Constitution to the provision concerning fugitives from service; but it fails to recognize the latter among the means of promoting "harmony and proper intercourse;" nor does its triumvirate of authors anywhere allude to the provision.
The indifference thus far attending this subject still continued. The earliest Act of Congress, passed in 1793, drew little attention. It was not suggested originally by any difficulty or anxiety touching fugitives from service, nor is there any contemporary record, in debate or otherwise, showing that any special importance was attached to its provisions in this regard. The attention of Congress was directed to fugitives from justice, and, with little deliberation, it undertook, in the same bill, to provide for both cases. In this accidental manner was legislation on this subject first attempted.
There is no evidence that fugitives were often seized under this Act. From a competent inquirer we learn that twenty-six years elapsed before it was successfully enforced in any Free State. It is certain, that, in a case at Boston, towards the close of the last century, illustrated by Josiah Quincy as counsel, the crowd about the magistrate, at the examination, quietly and spontaneously opened a way for the fugitive, and thus the Act failed to be executed. It is also certain, that, in Vermont, at the beginning of the century, a Judge of the Supreme Court of the State, on application for the surrender of an alleged slave, accompanied by documentary evidence, gloriously refused compliance, unless the master could show a Bill of Sale from the Almighty. Even these cases passed without public comment.
In 1801 the subject was introduced in the House of Representatives by an effort for another Act, which, on consideration, was rejected. At a later day, in 1817-18, though still disregarded by the country, it seemed to excite a short-lived interest in Congress. In the House of Representatives, on motion of Mr. Pindall, of Virginia, a committee was appointed to inquire into the expediency of "providing more effectually by law for reclaiming servants and slaves escaping from one State into an-other," and a bill reported by them to amend the Act of 1793, after consideration for several days in Committee of the Whole, was passed. In the Senate, after much attention and warm debate, it passed with amendments. But on return to the House for adoption of the amendments, it was dropped. This effort, which, in the discussions of this subject, has been thus far unnoticed, is chiefly remarkable as the earliest recorded evidence of the unwarrantable assertion, now so common, that this provision was originally of vital importance to the peace and harmony of the country.
At last, in 1850, we have another Act, passed by both Houses of Congress, and approved by the President, familiarly known as the Fugitive Slave Bill. As I read this statute, I am filled with painful emotions. The masterly subtlety with which it is drawn might challenge admiration, if exerted for a benevolent purpose; but in an age of sensibility and refinement, a machine of torture, however skilful and apt, cannot be regarded without horror. Sir, in the name of the Constitution, which it violates, of my country, which it dishonors, of Humanity, which it degrades, of Christianity, which it offends, I arraign this enactment, and now hold it up to the judgment of the Senate and the world. Again, I shrink from no responsibility. I may seem to stand alone; but all the patriots and martyrs of history, all the Fathers of the Republic, are with me. Sir, there is no attribute of God which does not take part against this Act.
But I am to regard it now chiefly as an infringement of the Constitution. Here its outrages, flagrant as manifold, assume the deepest dye and broadest character only when we consider that by its language it is not restricted to any special race or class, to the African or to the person with African blood, but that any inhabitant of the United States, of whatever complexion or condition, may be its victim. Without discrimination of color even, and in violation of every presumption of freedom, the Act surrenders all who may be claimed as "owing service or labor" to the same tyrannical proceeding. If there be any whose sympathies are not moved for the slave, who do not cherish the rights of the humble African, struggling for divine Freedom, as warmly as the rights of the white man, let him consider well that the rights of all are equally assailed. "Nephew," said Algernon Sidney in prison, on the night before his execution, "I value not my own life a chip; but what concerns me is, that the law which takes away my life may hang every one of you, whenever it is thought convenient."
Whilst thus comprehensive in its provisions, and applicable to all, there is no safeguard of Human Freedom which the monster Act does not set at nought.
It commits this great question—than which none is more sacred in the law—not to a solemn trial, but to summary proceedings.
It commits this great question, not to one of the high tribunals of the land, but to the unaided judgment of a single petty magistrate.
It commits this great question to a magistrate appointed, not by the President with the consent of the Senate, but by the Court,—holding office, not during good behavior, but merely during the will of the Court,—and receiving, not a regular salary, but fees according to each individual case.
It authorizes judgment on ex parte evidence, by affidavit, without the sanction of cross-examination.
It denies the writ of Habeas Corpus, ever known as the palladium of the citizen.
Contrary to the declared purposes of the framers of the Constitution, it sends the fugitive back "at the public expense."
Adding meanness to violation of the Constitution, it bribes the Commissioner by a double stipend to pronounce against Freedom. If he dooms a man to Slavery, the reward is ten dollars; but saving him to Freedom, his dole is five.
The Constitution expressly secures the "free exercise of religion"; but this Act visits with unrelenting penalties the faithful men and women who render to the fugitive that countenance, succor, and shelter which in their conscience "religion" requires; and thus is practical religion directly assailed. Plain commandments are broken; and are we not told that "Whosoever shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of Heaven"?
As it is for the public weal that there should be an end of suits, so by the consent of civilized nations these must be instituted within fixed limitations of time; but this Act, exalting Slavery above even this practical principle of universal justice, ordains proceedings against Freedom without any reference to the lapse of time.
Glancing only at these points, and not stopping for argument, vindication, or illustration, I come at once upon two chief radical objections to this Act, identical in principle with those triumphantly urged by our fathers against the British Stamp Act; first, that it is a usurpation by Congress of powers not granted by the Constitution, and an infraction of rights secured to the States; and, secondly, that it takes away Trial by Jury in a question of Personal Liberty and a suit at Common Law. Either of these objections, if sustained, strikes at the very root of the Act. That it is obnoxious to both is beyond doubt.
Here, at this stage, I encounter the difficulty, that these objections are already foreclosed by legislation of Congress and decisions of the Supreme Court,—that as early as 1793 Congress assumed power over this subject by an Act which failed to secure Trial by Jury, and that the validity of this Act under the Constitution has been affirmed by the Supreme Court. On examination, this difficulty will disappear.
The Act of 1793 proceeded from a Congress that had already recognized the United States Bank, chartered by a previous Congress, which, though sanctioned by the Supreme Court, has been since in high quarters pronounced unconstitutional. If it erred as to the Bank, it may have erred also as to fugitives from service. But the Act itself contains a capital error on this very subject, so declared by the Supreme Court, in pretending to vest a portion of the judicial power of the Nation in State officers. This error takes from the Act all authority as an interpretation of the Constitution. I dismiss it.
The decisions of the Supreme Court are entitled to great consideration, and will not be mentioned by me except with respect. Among the memories of my youth are happy days when I sat at the feet of this tribunal, while MARSHALL presided, with STORY by his side. The pressure now proceeds from the case of Prigg v. Pennsylvania (16 Peters, 539), where is asserted the power of Congress. Without going into minute criticism of this judgment, or considering the extent to which it is extra-judicial, and therefore of no binding force,—all which has been done at the bar in one State, and by an able court in another,—but conceding to it a certain degree of weight as a rule to the judiciary on this particular point, still it does not touch the grave question which springs from the denial of Trial by Jury. This judgment was pronounced by Mr. Justice Story. From the interesting biography of the great jurist, recently published by his son, we learn that the question of Trial by Jury was not considered as before the Court; so that, in the estimation of the learned judge himself, it was still an open question.
(1). First of the power of Congress over this subject.
The Constitution contains powers granted to Congress, compacts between the States, and prohibitions addressed to the Nation and to the States. A compact or prohibition may be accompanied by a power,—but not necessarily, for it is essentially distinct in nature. And here the single question arises, Whether the Constitution, by grant, general or special, confers upon Congress any power to legislate on the subject of fugitives from service.
The framers of the Constitution were wise and careful, having a reason for what they did, and understanding the language they employed. They did not, after discussion, incorporate into their work any superfluous provision; nor did they without design adopt the peculiar arrangement in which it appears. Adding to the record compact an express grant of power, they testified not only their desire for such power in Congress, but their conviction that without such express grant it would not exist. But if express grant was necessary in this case, it was equally necessary in all the other cases. Expressum facit cessare tacitum. Especially, in view of its odious character, was it necessary in the case of fugitives from service. Abstaining from any such grant, and then grouping the bare compact with other similar compacts, separate from every grant of power, they testified their purpose most significantly. Not only do they decline all addition to the compact of any such power, but, to render misapprehension impossible, to make assurance doubly sure, to exclude any contrary conclusion, they punctiliously arrange the clauses, on the principle of noscitur a sociis, so as to distinguish all the grants of power, but especially to make the new grant of power, in the case of public records, stand forth in the front by itself, severed from the naked compacts with which it was originally associated.
Thus the proceedings of the Convention show that the founders understood the necessity of powers in certain cases, and, on consideration, jealously granted them. A closing example will strengthen the argument. Congress is expressly empowered "to establish an uniform rule of naturalization, and uniform laws on the subject of bankruptcies, throughout the United States." Without this provision these two subjects would have fallen within the control of the States, leaving the nation powerless to establish a uniform rule thereupon. Now, instead of the existing compact on fugitives from service, it would have been easy, had any such desire prevailed, to add this case to the clause on naturalization and bankruptcies, and to empower Congress To ESTABLISH A UNIFORM RULE FOR THE SURRENDER OF FUGITIVES FROM SERVICE THROUGHOUT THE UNITED STATES. Then, of course, whenever Congress undertook to exercise the power, all State control of the subject would be superseded. The National Government would have been constistuted, like Nimrod, the mighty Hunter, with power to gather the huntsmen, to halloo the pack, and to direct the chase of men, ranging at will, without regard to boundaries or jurisdictions, throughout all the States. But no person in the Convention, not one of the reckless partisans of slavery, was so audacious as to make this proposition. Had it been distinctly made, it would have been as distinctly denied.
The fact that the provision on this subject was adopted unanimously, while showing the little importance attached to it in the shape it finally assumed, testifies also that it could not have been regarded as a source of national power for Slavery. It will be remembered that among the members of the Convention were Gouverneur Morris, who had said that he "NEVER would concur in upholding domestic Slavery,"—Elbridge Gerry, who thought we "ought to be careful NOT to give any sanction to it,"—Roger Sherman, who "was OPPOSED to a tax on slaves imported, because it implied they were property,"—James Madison, who "thought it WRONG to admit in the Constitution the idea that there could be property in men,"—and Benjamin Franklin, who likened American slaveholders to Algerine corsairs. In the face of these unequivocal judgments, it is absurd to suppose that these eminent citizens consented unanimously to any provision by which the National Government, the creature of their hands, dedicated to freedom, could become the most offensive agent of Slavery.
Thus much for the evidence from the history of the Convention. But the true principles of our political system are in harmony with this conclusion of history; and here let me say a word of State rights.
It was the purpose of our fathers to create a National Government, and to endow it with adequate powers. They had known the perils of imbecility, discord, and confusion, protracted through the uncertain days of the Confederation, and they desired a government which should be a true bond of union and an efficient organ of national interests at home and abroad. But while fashioning this agency, they fully recognized the governments of the States. To the nation were delegated high powers, essential to the national interests, but specific in character and limited in number. To the States and to the people were reserved the powers, general in character and unlimited in number, not delegated to the nation or prohibited to the States.
The integrity of our political system depends upon harmony in the operations of the Nation and of the States. While the nation within its wide orbit is supreme, the States move with equal supremacy in their own. But, from the necessity of the case, the supremacy of each in its proper place excludes the other. The Nation cannot exercise rights reserved to the States, nor can the States interfere with the powers of the nation. Any such action on either side is a usurpation. These principles were distinctly declared by Mr. Jefferson in 1798, in words often adopted since, and which must find acceptance from all parties.
I have already amply shown to-day that Slavery is in no respect national—that it is not within the sphere of national activity,—that it has no "positive" support in the Constitution,—and that any interpretation inconsistent with this principle would be abhorrent to the sentiments of its founders. Slavery is a local institution, peculiar to the States, and under the guardianship of State rights. It is impossible, without violence to the spirit and letter of the Constitution, to claim for Congress any power to legislate either for its abolition in the States or its support anywhere. Non-Intervention is the rule prescribed to the nation. Regarding the question in its more general aspects only, and putting aside, for the moment, the perfect evidence from the records of the convention, it is palpable that there is no national fountain out of which the existing Slave Act can possibly spring.
But this Act is not only an unwarrantable assumption of power by the nation, it is also an infraction of rights reserved to the States. Everywhere within their borders the States are peculiar guardians of personal liberty. By jury and habeas corpus to save the citizen harmless against all assault is among their duties and rights. To his State the citizen, when oppressed, may appeal; nor should he find that appeal denied. But this Act despoils him of rights, and despoils his State of all power to protect him. It subjects him to the wretched chance of false oaths, forged papers, and facile commissioners, and takes from him every safeguard. Now, if the slaveholder has a right to be secure at home in the enjoyment of Slavery, so also has the freeman of the North—and every person there is presumed to be a free man—an equal right to be secure at home in the enjoyment of freedom. The same principle of State rights by which Slavery is protected in the slave States throws an impenetrable shield over Freedom in the free States. And here, let me say, is the only security for Slavery in the slave States, as for Freedom in the free States. In the present fatal overthrow of State rights you teach a lesson which may return to plague the teacher. Compelling the National Government to stretch its Briarean arms into the free States for the sake of Slavery, you show openly how it may stretch these same hundred giant arms into the slave States for the sake of Freedom. This lesson was not taught by our fathers.
Here I end this branch of the question. The true principles of our political system, the history of the National Convention, the natural interpretation of the Constitution, all teach that this Act is a usurpation by Congress of powers that do not belong to it, and an infraction of rights secured to the States. It is a sword, whose handle is at the National Capital, and whose point is everywhere in the States. A weapon so terrible to personal liberty the nation has no power to grasp.
(2). And now of the denial of Trial by Jury.
Admitting, for the moment, that Congress is intrusted with power over this subject, which truth disowns, still the Act is again radically unconstitutional from its denial of Trial by Jury in a question of personal liberty and a suit of common law. Since on the one side there is a claim of property, and on the other of liberty, both property and liberty are involved in the issue. To this claim on either side is attached Trial by Jury.
To me, Sir, regarding this matter in the light of the Common Law and in the blaze of free institutions, it has always seemed impossible to arrive at any other conclusion. If the language of the Constitution were open to doubt, which it is not, still all the presumptions of law, all the leanings to Freedom, all the suggestions of justice, plead angel-tongued for this right. Nobody doubts that Congress, if it legislates on this matter, may allow a Trial by Jury. But if it may, so overwhelming is the claim of justice, it MUST. Beyond this, however, the question is determined by the precise letter of the Constitution.
Several expressions in the provision for the surrender of fugitives from service show the essential character of the proceedings. In the first place, the person must be, not merely charged, as in the case of fugitives from justice, but actually held to service in the State which he escaped. In the second place, he must "be delivered up on claim of the party to whom such service or labor may be due." These two facts—that he was held to service, and that his service was due to his claimant—are directly placed in issue, and must be proved. Two necessary incidents of the delivery may also be observed. First, it is made in the State where the fugitive is found; and, secondly, it restores to the claimant complete control over the person of the fugitive. From these circumstances it is evident that the proceedings cannot be regarded, in any just sense, as preliminary, or ancillary to some future formal trial, but as complete in themselves, final and conclusive.
These proceedings determine on the one side the question of property, and on the other the sacred question of personal liberty in its most transcendent form,—Liberty not merely for a day or a year, but for life, and the Liberty of generations that shall come after, so long as Slavery endures. To these questions the Constitution, by two specific provisions, attaches Trial by Jury. One is the familiar clause, already adduced: "No person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law,"—that is, without due proceeding at law, with Trial by Jury. Not stopping to dwell on this, I press at once to the other provision, which is still more express: "In suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of Trial by Jury shall be preserved." This clause, which does not appear in the Constitution as first adopted, was suggested by the very spirit of freedom. At the close of the National Convention, Elbridge Gerry refused to sign the Constitution because, among other things, it established "a tribunal without juries, a star chamber as to civil cases."
Many united in his opposition, and on the recommendation of the First Congress this additional safeguard was adopted as an amendment.
Opposing this Act as doubly unconstitutional from the want of power in Congress and from the denial of trial by jury, I find myself again encouraged by the example of our Revolutionary Fathers, in a case which is a landmark of history. The parallel is important and complete. In 1765, the British Parliament, by a notorious statute, attempted to draw money from the colonies through a stamp tax, while the determination of certain questions of forfeiture under the statute was delegated, not to the Courts of Common Law, but to Courts of Admiralty without a jury. The Stamp Act, now execrated by all lovers of liberty, had this extent and no more. Its passage was the signal for a general flame of opposition and indignation throughout the colonies. It was denounced as contrary to the British Constitution, on two principal grounds—first, as a usurpation by Parliament of powers not belonging to it, and an infraction of rights secured to the colonies; and, secondly, as a denial of Trial by Jury in certain cases of property.
The public feeling was variously expressed. At Boston, on the day the act was to take effect, the shops were closed, the bells of the churches tolled, and the flags of the ships hung at half-mast. At Portsmouth, in New Hampshire, the bells were tolled, and the friends of liberty were summoned to hold themselves in readiness for her funeral. At New York, the obnoxious Act, headed "Folly of England and Ruin of America," was contemptuously hawked about the streets. Bodies of patriots were organized everywhere under the name of "Sons of Liberty." The merchants, inspired then by liberty, resolved to import no more goods from England until the repeal of the Act. The orators also spoke. James Otis with fiery tongue appealed to Magna Charta.
Sir, regarding the Stamp Act candidly and cautiously, free from animosities of the time, it is impossible not to see that, though gravely unconstitutional, it was at most an infringement of civil liberty only, not of personal liberty. There was an unjust tax of a few pence, with the chance of amercement by a single judge without a jury; but by no provision of this act was the personal liberty of any man assailed. No freeman could be seized under it as a slave. Such an act, though justly obnoxious to every lover of constitutional Liberty, cannot be viewed with the feelings of repugnance enkindled by a statute which assails the personal liberty of every man, and under which any freeman may be seized as a slave. Sir, in placing the Stamp Act by the side of the Slave Act, I do injustice to that emanation of British tyranny. Both infringe important rights: one, of property; the other, the vital right of all, which is to other rights as soul to body,—the right of a man to himself. Both are condemned; but their relative condemnation must be measured by their relative characters. As Freedom is more than property, as Man is above the dollar that he owns, as heaven, to which we all aspire, is higher than earth, where every accumulation of wealth must ever remain, so are the rights assailed by an American Congress higher than those once assailed by the British Parliament. And just in this degree must history condemn the Slave Act more than the Stamp Act.
Sir, I might here stop. It is enough, in this place, and on this occasion, to show the unconstitutionality of this enactment. Your duty commences at once. All legislation hostile to the fundamental law of the land should be repealed without delay. But the argument is not yet exhausted. Even if this Act could claim any validity or apology under the Constitution, which it cannot, it lacks that essential support in the Public Conscience of the States, where it is to be enforced, which is the life of all law, and with-out which any law must become a dead letter.
With every attempt to administer the Slave Act, it constantly becomes more revolting, particularly in its influence on the agents it enlists. Pitch cannot be touched without defilement, and all who lend themselves to this work seem at once and unconsciously to lose the better part of man. The spirit of the law passes into them, as the devils entered the swine. Upstart commissioners, mere mushrooms of courts, vie and revie with each other. Now by indecent speed, now by harshness of manner, now by denial of evidence, now by crippling the defense, and now by open, glaring wrong they make the odious Act yet more odious. Clemency, grace, and justice die in its presence. All this is observed by the world. Not a case occurs which does not harrow the souls of good men, and bring tears of sympathy to the eyes, and those nobler tears which "patriots shed o'er dying laws."
Sir, I shall speak frankly. If there be an exception to this feeling, it will be found chiefly with a peculiar class. It is a sorry fact, that the "mercantile interest," in unpardonable selfishness, twice in English history, frowned upon endeavors to suppress the atrocity of Algerine Slavery, that it sought to baffle Wilberforce's great effort for the abolition of the African slave-trade, and that, by a sordid compromise, at the formation of our Constitution, it exempted the same detested, Heaven-defying traffic from American judgment. And now representatives of this "interest," forgetful that Commerce is born of Freedom, join in hunting the Slave. But the great heart of the people recoils from this enactment. It palpitates for the fugitive, and rejoices in his escape. Sir, I am telling you facts. The literature of the age is all on his side. Songs, more potent than laws, are for him. Poets, with voices of melody, sing for Freedom. Who could tune for Slavery? They who make the permanent opinion of the country, who mould our youth,whose words, dropped into the soul, are the germs of character, supplicate for the Slave. And now, Sir, behold a new and heavenly ally. A woman, inspired by Christian genius, enters the lists, like another Joan of Arc, and with marvellous power sweeps the popular heart. Now melting to tears, and now inspiring to rage, her work everywhere touches the conscience, and makes the Slave-Hunter more hateful. In a brief period, nearly one hundred thousand copies of Uncle Tom's Cabin have been already circulated. But this extraordinary and sudden success, surpassing all other instances in the records of literature, cannot be regarded as but the triumph of genius. Better far, it is the testimony of the people, by an unprecedented act, against the Fugitive Slave Bill.
These things I dwell upon as incentives and tokens of an existing public sentiment, rendering this Act practically inoperative, except as a tremendous engine of horror. Sir, the sentiment is just. Even in the lands of Slavery, the slave-trader is loathed as an ignoble character, from whom the countenance is turned away; and can the Slave-Hunter be more regarded, while pursuing his prey in a land of Freedom? In early Europe, in barbarous days, while Slavery prevailed, a Hunting Master was held in aversion. Nor was this all. The fugitive was welcomed in the cities, and protected against pursuit. Sometimes vengeance awaited the Hunter. Down to this day, at Revel, now a Russian city, a sword is proudly preserved with which a hunting Baron was beheaded, who, in violation of the municipal rights of the place, seized a fugitive slave. Hostile to this Act as our public sentiment may be, it exhibits no similar trophy. The State laws of Massachusetts have been violated in the seizure of a fugitive slave; but no sword, like that of Revel, now hangs at Boston.
And now, Sir, let us review the field over which we have passed. We have seen that any compromise, finally closing the discussion of Slavery under the Constitution, is tyrannical, absurd, and impotent; that, as Slavery can exist only by virtue of positive law, and as it has no such positive support in the Constitution, it cannot exist within the national jurisdiction; that the Constitution nowhere recognizes property in man, and that, according to its true interpretation, Freedom and not Slavery is national, while Slavery and not Freedom is sectional;that in this spirit the National Government was first organized under Washington, himself an Abolitionist, surrounded by Abolitionists, while the whole country, by its Church, its Colleges, its Literature, and all its best voices, was united against Slavery, and the national flag at that time nowhere within the National Territory covered a single slave; still further, that the National Government is a government of delegated powers, and, as among these there is no power to support Slavery, this institution cannot be national, nor can Congress in any way legislate in its behalf; and, finally, that the establishment of this principle is the true way of peace and safety for the Republic. Considering next the provision for the surrender of fugitives from service, we have seen that it was not one of the original compromises of the Constitution; that it was introduced tardily and with hesitation, and adopted with little discussion, while then and for a long period thereafter it was regarded with comparative indifference; that the recent Slave Act, though many times unconstitutional, is especially so on two grounds, first, as a usurpation by Congress of powers not granted by the Constitution, and an infraction of rights secured to the States, and, secondly, as the denial of Trial by Jury, in a question of personal liberty and a suit at Common Law; that its glaring unconstitutionality finds a prototype in the British Stamp Act, which our fathers refused to obey as unconstitutional on two parallel grounds,—first, because it was a usurpation by Parliament of powers not belonging to it under the British Constitution, and an infraction of rights belonging to the Colonies, and, secondly, because it was the denial of Trial by Jury in certain cases of property; that, as Liberty is far above property, so is the outrage perpetrated by the American Congress far above that perpetrated by the British Parliament; and, finally, that the Slave Act has not that support, in the public sentiment of the States where it is to be executed, which is the life of all law, and which prudence and the precept of Washington require.
Mr. President, I have occupied much time; but the great subject still stretches before us. One other point yet remains, which I must not leave untouched, and which justly belongs to the close. The Slave Act violates the Constitution, and shocks the Public Conscience. With modesty, and yet with firmness, let me add, Sir,it offends against the Divine Law. No such enactment is entitled to support. As the throne of God is above every earthly throne, so are his laws and statutes above all the laws and statutes of man. To question these is to question God himself. But to assume that human laws are beyond question is to claim for their fallible authors infallibility. To assume that they are always in conformity with the laws of God is presumptuously and impiously to exalt man even to equality with God. Clearly, human laws are not always in such conformity; nor can they ever be beyond question from each individual. Where the conflict is open, as if Congress should command the perpetration of murder, the office of conscience as final arbiter is undisputed. But in every conflict the same queenly office is hers. By no earthly power can she be dethroned. Each person, after anxious examination, without haste, without passion, solemnly for himself must decide this great controversy. Any other rule attributes infallibility to human laws, places them beyond question, and degrades all men to an unthinking, passive obedience.
The mandates of an earthly power are to be discussed; those of Heaven must at once be performed; nor should we suffer ourselves to be drawn by any compact into opposition to God. Such is the rule of morals. Such, also, by the lips of judges and sages, is the proud declaration of English law, whence our own is derived. In this conviction, patriots have braved unjust commands, and martyrs have died.
And now, sir, the rule is commended to us. The good citizen, who sees before him the shivering fugitive, guilty of no crime, pursued, hunted down like a beast, while praying for Christian help and deliverance, and then reads the requirements of this Act, is filled with horror. Here is a despotic mandate "to aid and assist in the prompt and efficient execution of this law." Again let me speak frankly. Not rashly would I set myself against any requirement of law. This grave responsibility I would not lightly assume. But here the path of duty is clear. By the Supreme Law, which commands me to do no injustice, by the comprehensive Christian Law of Brotherhood, by the Constitution, which I have sworn to support, I AM BOUND TO DISOBEY THIS ACT. Never, in any capacity, can I render voluntary aid in its execution. Pains and penalties I will endure, but this great wrong, I will not do. "Where I cannot obey actively, there I am willing to lie down and to suffer what they shall do unto me"; such was the exclamation of him to whom we are indebted for the Pilgrim's Progress while in prison for disobedience to an earthly statute. Better suffer injustice than do it. Better victim than instrument of wrong. Better even the poor slave returned to bondage than the wretched Commissioner.
There is, sir, an incident of history which suggests a parallel, and affords a lesson of fidelity. Under the triumphant exertions of that Apostolic Jesuit, St. Francis Xavier, large numbers of Japanese, amounting to as many as two hundred thousand,—among them princes, generals, and the flower of the nobility,—were converted to Christianity. Afterwards, amidst the frenzy of civil war, religious persecution arose, and the penalty of death was denounced against all who refused to trample upon the effigy of the Redeemer. This was the Pagan law of a Pagan land. But the delighted historian records, that from the multitude of converts scarcely one was guilty of this apostasy. The law of man was set at naught. Imprisonment, torture, death, were preferred. Thus did this people refuse to trample on the painted image. Sir, multitudes among us will not be less steadfast in refusing to trample on the living image of their Redeemer.
Finally, Sir, for the sake of peace and tranquility, cease to shock the Public Conscience; for the sake of the Constitution, cease to exercise a power nowhere granted, and which violates inviolable rights expressly secured. Leave this question where it was left by our fathers, at the formation of our National Government,—in the absolute control of the States, the appointed guardians of Personal Liberty. Repeal this enactment. Let its terrors no longer rage through the land. Mindful of the lowly whom it pursues, mindful of the good men perplexed by its requirements, in the name of Charity, in the name of the Constitution, repeal this enactment, totally and without delay. There is the example of Washington, follow it. There also are words of Oriental piety, most touching and full of warning, which speak to all mankind, and now especially to us: "Beware of the groans of wounded souls, since the inward sore will at length break out. Oppress not to the utmost a single heart; for a solitary sigh has power to overturn a whole world."