The Anti-Slavery Examiner, Omnibus

by American Anti-Slavery Society

In conclusion, I argue the power of Congress to abolish slavery in the District, from Art. 1, sec, 8, clause 1, of the constitution; "Congress shall have power to provide for the common defence and the general welfare of the United States." Has the government of the United States no power under this grant, to legislate within its own exclusive jurisdiction on subjects that vitally affect its interests? Suppose the slaves in the district should rise upon their masters, and the United States' government, in quelling the insurrection, should kill any number of them. Could their masters claim compensation of the government? Manifestly not; even though no proof existed that the particular slaves killed were insurgents. This was precisely the point at issue between those masters, whose slaves were killed by the State troops at the time of the Southampton insurrection, and the Virginia Legislature: no evidence was brought to show that the slaves killed by the troops were insurgents; yet the Virginia Legislature decided that their masters were not entitled to compensation. They proceeded on the sound principle, that a government may in self-protection destroy the claim of its subjects even to that which has been recognized as property by its own acts. If in providing for the common defence, the United States' government, in the case supposed, would have power to destroy slaves both as property and persons, it surely might stop half-way, destroy them as property while it legalized their existence as persons, and thus provided for the common defence by giving them a personal and powerful interest in the government, and securing their strength for its defence.

Like other Legislatures, Congress has power to abate nuisances—to remove or tear down unsafe buildings—to destroy infected cargoes—to lay injunctions upon manufactories injurious to the public health—and thus to "provide for the common defence and general welfare" by destroying individual property, when such property puts in jeopardy the public weal.

Granting, for argument's sake, that slaves are "property" in the District of Columbia—if Congress has a right to annihilate property in the District when the public safety requires it, it may surely annihilate its existence as property when the public safety requires it, especially if it transform into a protection and defence that which as property perilled the public interests. In the District of Columbia there are, besides the United States' Capitol, the President's house, the national offices, &c. of the Departments of State, Treasury, War, and Navy, the General Post-office, and Patent Office. It is also the residence of the President, all the highest officers of the government, both houses of Congress, and all the foreign ambassadors. In this same District there are also seven thousand slaves. Jefferson, in his Notes on Va. p. 241, says of slavery, that "the State permitting one half of its citizens to trample on the rights of the other, transforms them into enemies;" and Richard Henry Lee, in the Va. house of Burgesses in 1758, declared that to those who held them, "slaves must be natural enemies." Is Congress so impotent that it cannot exercise that right pronounced both by municipal and national law, the most sacred and universal—the right of self-preservation and defence? Is it shut up to the necessity of keeping seven thousand "enemies" in the heart of the nation's citadel? Does the iron fiat of the constitution doom it to such imbecility that it cannot arrest the process that made them "enemies," and still goads to deadlier hate by fiery trials, and day by day adds others to their number? Is this providing for the common defence and general welfare? If to rob men of rights excites their hate, freely to restore them and make amends, will win their love.

By emancipating the slaves in the District, the government of the United States would disband an army of "enemies," and enlist "for the common defence and general welfare," a body guard of friends seven thousand strong. In the last year, a handful of British soldiers sacked Washington city, burned the capitol, the President's house, and the national offices and archives; and no marvel, for thousands of the inhabitants of the District had been "TRANSFORMED INTO ENEMIES." Would they beat back invasion? If the national government had exercised its constitutional "power to provide for the common defence and to promote the general welfare," by turning those "enemies" into friends, then, instead of a hostile ambush lurking in every thicket inviting assault, and secret foes in every house paralyzing defence, an army of allies would have rallied in the hour of her calamity, and shouted defiance from their munitions of rocks; whilst the banner of the republic, then trampled in dust, would have floated securely over FREEMEN exulting amidst bulwarks of strength.

To show that Congress can abolish slavery in the District, under the grant of power "to provide for the common defence and to promote the general welfare," I quote an extract from a speech of Mr. Madison, of Va., in the first Congress under the constitution, May 13, 1789. Speaking of the abolition of the slave trade, Mr. Madison says: "I should venture to say it is as much for the interests of Georgia and South Carolina, as of any state in the union. Every addition they receive to their number of slaves tends to weaken them, and renders them less capable of self-defence. In case of hostilities with foreign nations, they will be the means of inviting attack instead of repelling invasion. It is a necessary duty of the general government to protect every part of the empire against danger, as well internal as external. Every thing, therefore, which tends to increase this danger, though it may be a local affair, yet if it involves national expense or safety, it becomes of concern to every part of the union, and is a proper subject for the consideration of those charged with the general administration of the government." See Cong. Reg. vol. 1, p. 310, 11.

POSTSCRIPT

My apology for adding a postscript, to a discussion already perhaps too protracted, is the fact that the preceding sheets were in the hands of the printer, and all but the concluding pages had gone through the press, before the passage of Mr. Calhoun's late resolutions in the Senate of the United States. A proceeding so extraordinary,—if indeed the time has not passed when any acts of Congress in derogation of freedom and in deference to slavery, can be deemed extraordinary,—should not be suffered to pass in silence at such a crisis as the present; especially as the passage of one of the resolutions by a vote of 36 to 9, exhibits a shift of position on the part of the South, as sudden as it is unaccountable, being nothing less than the surrender of a fortress which until then they had defended with the pertinacity of a blind and almost infuriated fatuity. Upon the discussions during the pendency of the resolutions, and upon the vote, by which they were carried, I make no comment, save only to record my exultation in the fact there exhibited, that great emergencies are true touchstones, and that henceforward, until this question is settled, whoever holds a seat in Congress will find upon, and all around him, a pressure strong enough to TEST him—a focal blaze that will find its way through the carefully adjusted cloak of fair pretension, and the sevenfold brass of two-faced political intrigue, and no-faced non-committalism, piercing to the dividing asunder of joints and marrow. Be it known to every northern man who aspires to a seat in Congress, that hereafter it is the destiny of congressional action on this subject, to be a MIGHTY REVELATOR—making secret thoughts public property, and proclaiming on the house-tops what is whispered in the ear—smiting off masks, and bursting open sepulchres beautiful outwardly, and heaving up to the sun their dead men's bones. To such we say,—Remember the Missouri Question, and the fate of those who then sold the North, and their own birthright!

Passing by the resolutions generally without remark—the attention of the reader is specially solicited to Mr. Clay's substitute for Mr. Calhoun's fifth resolution.

"Resolved, That when the District of Columbia was ceded by the states of Virginia and Maryland to the United States, domestic slavery existed in both of these states, including the ceded territory, and that, as it still continues in both of them, it could not be abolished within the District without a violation of that good faith, which was implied in the cession and in the acceptance of the territory; nor, unless compensation were made to the proprietors of slaves, without a manifest infringement of an amendment to the constitution of the United States; nor without exciting a degree of just alarm and apprehension in the states recognizing slavery, far transcending in mischievous tendency, any possible benefit which could be accomplished by the abolition."

By voting for this resolution, the south, by a simultaneous movement, shifted its mode of defense, not so much by taking a position entirely new, as by attempting to refortify an old one—never much trusted in, and abandoned mainly long ago, as being unable to hold out against assault however unskilfully directed. In the debate on this resolution, though the southern members of Congress did not professedly retreat from the ground hitherto maintained by them—that Congress has no power by the constitution to abolish slavery in the District—yet in the main they silently drew off from it.