The Anti-Slavery Examiner, Omnibus

by American Anti-Slavery Society

The passage of this resolution—with the vote of every southern senator, forms a new era in the discussion of this question.

We cannot join in the lamentations of those who bewail it. We hail it, and rejoice in it. It was as we would have had it—offered by a southern senator, advocated by southern senators, and on the ground that it "was no compromise"—that it embodied the true southern principle—that "this resolution stood on as high ground as Mr. Calhoun's"—(Mr. Preston)—"that Mr. Clay's resolution was as strong as Mr. Calhoun's"—(Mr. Rives)—that "the resolution he (Mr. Calhoun) now refused to support, was as strong as his own, and that in supporting it, there was no abandonment of principle by the south."—(Mr. Walker, of Mi.)—further, that it was advocated by the southern senators generally as an expression of their views, and as setting the question of slavery in the District on its true ground—that finally when the question was taken, every slaveholding senator, including Mr. Calhoun himself, voted for the resolution.

By passing this resolution, and with such avowals, the south has surrendered irrevocably the whole question at issue between them and the petitioners for abolition in the District. It has, unwittingly but explicitly, conceded the main question argued in the preceding pages.

The only ground taken against the right of Congress to abolish slavery in the District is, that it existed in Maryland and Virginia when the cession was made, and "as it still continues in both of them, it could not be abolished without a violation of that good faith which was implied in the cession." &c. The sole argument is not that exclusive sovereignty has no power to abolish slavery within its jurisdiction, nor that the powers of even ordinary legislation cannot do it,—nor that the clause granting Congress "exclusive legislation in all cases whatsoever over such District," gives no power to do it; but that the unexpressed expectation of one of the parties that the other would not "in all cases" use the power which said party had consented might be used "in all cases," prohibits the use of it. The only cardinal point in the discussion, is here not only yielded, but formally laid down by the South as the leading article in their creed on the question of Congressional jurisdiction over slavery in the District. The sole reason given why Congress should not abolish, and the sole evidence that if it did, such abolition would be a violation of "good faith," is that "slavery still continues in those states,"—thus explicitly admitting, that if slavery did not "still continue" in those States, Congress could abolish it in the District. The same admission is made also in the premises, which state that slavery existed in those states at the time of the cession, &c. Admitting that if it had not existed there then, but had grown up in the District under United States' laws, Congress might constitutionally abolish it. Or that if the ceded parts of those states had been the only parts in which slaves were held under their laws, Congress might have abolished in such a contingency also. The cession in that case leaving no slaves in those states,—no "good faith," would be "implied" in it, nor any "violated," by an act of abolition. The principle of the resolution makes this further admission, that if Maryland and Virginia should at once abolish their slavery, Congress might at once abolish it in the District. The principle goes even further than this, and requires Congress in such case to abolish slavery in the District "by the good faith implied in the cession and acceptance of the territory." Since, according to the spirit and scope of the resolution, this "implied good faith" of Maryland and Virginia in making the cession, was that Congress would do nothing within the District which should go to counteract the policy, or bring into disrepute the "institutions," or call in question the usages, or even in any way ruffle the prejudices of those states, or do what they might think would unfavorably bear upon their interests; themselves of course being the judges.

But let us dissect another limb of the resolution. What is to be understood by "that good faith which was IMPLIED?" It is of course an admission that such a condition was not expressed in the acts of cession—that in their terms there is nothing restricting the power of Congress on the subject of slavery in the District—not a word alluding to it, nor one inserted with such an intent. This "implied faith," then, rests on no clause or word in the United States' Constitution, or in the acts of cession, or in the acts of Congress accepting the cession, nor does it rest on any declarations of the legislatures of Maryland and Virginia made at the time, or in that generation, nor on any act of theirs, nor on any declaration of the people of those states, nor on the testimony of the Washingtons, Jeffersons, Madisons, Chaces, Martins, and Jennifers, of those states and times. The assertion rests on itself alone! Mr. Clay and the other senators who voted for the resolution, guess that Maryland and Virginia supposed that Congress would by no means use the power given them by the constitution, except in such ways as would be well pleasing in the eyes of those states; especially as one of them was the "Ancient Dominion!" And now after the lapse of half a century, this assumed expectation of Maryland and Virginia, the existence of which is mere matter of conjecture with the 36 senators, is conjured up and duly installed upon the judgment-seat of final appeal, before whose nod constitutions are to flee away, and with whom, solemn grants of power and explicit guaranties are, when weighed in the balance, altogether lighter than vanity!

But let us survey it in another light. Why did Maryland and Virginia leave so much to be "implied?" Why did they not in some way express what lay so near their hearts? Had their vocabulary run so low that a single word could not be eked out for the occasion? Or were those states so bashful of a sudden that they dare not speak out and tell what they wanted? Or did they take it for granted that Congress would always act in the premises according to their wishes, and that too, without their making known their wishes? If, as honorable senators tell us, Maryland and Virginia did verily travail with such abounding faith, why brought they forth no works?

It is as true in legislation as in religion, that the only evidence of "faith" is works, and that "faith" without works is dead, i.e. has no power. But here, forsooth, a blind implication with nothing expressed, an "implied" faith without works, is omnipotent. Mr. Clay is lawyer enough to know that even a senatorial hypothesis as to what must have been the understanding of Maryland and Virginia about congressional exercise of constitutional power, abrogates no grant, and that to plead it in a court of law, would be of small service except to jostle "their Honors'" gravity! He need not be told that the constitution gives Congress "power to exercise exclusive legislation in all cases whatsoever over such District." Nor that the legislatures of Maryland and Virginia constructed their acts of cession with this clause before their eyes, and that both of them declared those acts made "in pursuance" of said clause. Those states were aware that the United States in their constitution had left nothing to be "implied" as to the power of Congress over the District;—an admonition quite sufficient one would think to put them on their guard, and induce them to eschew vague implications and resort to stipulations. Full well did they know also that those were times when, in matters of high import, nothing was left to be "implied." The colonies were then panting from a twenty years' conflict with the mother country, about bills of rights, charters, treaties, constitutions, grants, limitations, and acts of cession. The severities of a long and terrible discipline had taught them to guard at all points legislative grants, that their exact import and limit might be self-evident—leaving no scope for a blind "faith," that somehow in the lottery of chances there would be no blanks, but making all sure by the use of explicit terms, and wisely chosen words, and just enough of them. The Constitution of the United States with its amendments, those of the individual states, the national treaties, the public documents of the general and state governments at that period, show the universal conviction of legislative bodies, that when great public interest were at stake, nothing should be left to be "implied."

Further: suppose Maryland and Virginia had expressed their "implied faith" in words, and embodied it in their acts of cession as a proviso, declaring that Congress should not "exercise exclusive legislation in all cases whatsoever over the District," but that the "case" of slavery should be an exception: who does not know that Congress, if it had accepted the cession on those terms, would have violated the Constitution; and who that has ever studied the free mood of those times in its bearings on slavery—proofs of which are given in scores on the preceding pages—can for an instant believe that the people of the United States would have altered their Constitution for the purpose of providing for slavery an inviolable sanctuary; that when driven in from its outposts, and everywhere retreating discomfited before the march of freedom, it might be received into everlasting habitations on the common homestead and hearth-stone of this free republic? Besides, who can believe that Virginia made such a condition, or cherished such a purpose, when at that very moment, Washington, Jefferson, Wythe, Patrick Henry, St. George Tucker, and almost all her illustrious men, were advocating the abolition of slavery by law. When Washington had said, two years before, Maryland and Virginia "must have laws for the gradual abolition of slavery and at a period not remote;" and when Jefferson in his letter to Price, three years before the cession, had said, speaking of Virginia, "This is the next state to which we may turn our eyes for the interesting spectacle of justice in conflict with avarice and oppression—a conflict in which THE SACRED SIDE IS GAINING DAILY RECRUITS;" when voluntary emancipations on the soil were then progressing at the rate of between one and two thousand annually, (See Judge Tucker's "Dissertation on Slavery," p. 73;) when the public sentiment of Virginia had undergone, and was undergoing so mighty a revolution that the idea of the continuance of slavery as a permanent system could not be tolerated, though she then contained about half the slaves in the Union. Was this the time to stipulated for the perpetuity of slavery under the exclusive legislation of Congress? and that too at the same session of Congress when every one of her delegation voted for the abolition of slavery in the North West Territory; a territory which she had herself ceded to Congress, and along with it had surrendered her jurisdiction over many of her citizens, inhabitants of that territory, who held slaves there—and whose slaves were emancipated by that act of Congress, in which all her delegation with one accord participated?

Now in view of the universal belief then prevalent, that slavery in this country was doomed to short life, and especially that in Maryland and Virginia it would be speedily abolished—are we to be told that those states designed to bind Congress never to terminate it? Are we to adopt the monstrous conclusion that this was the intent of the Ancient Dominion—thus to bind the United States by an "implied faith," and that when the United States accepted the cession, she did solemnly thus plight her troth, and that Virginia did then so understand it? Verily one would think that honorable senators supposed themselves deputed to do our thinking as well as our legislation, or rather, that they themselves were absolved from such drudgery by virtue of their office!

Another absurdity of this dogma about "implied faith" is, that where there was no power to exact an express pledge, there was none to demand an implied one, and where there was no power to give the one, there was none to give the other. We have shown already that Congress could not have accepted the cession with such a condition. To have signed away a part of its constitutional grant of power would have been a breach of the Constitution. Further, the Congress which accepted the cession was competent to pass a resolution pledging itself not to use all the power over the District committed to it by the Constitution. But here its power ended. Its resolution would only bind itself. Could it bind the next Congress by its authority? Could the members of one Congress say to the members of another, because we do not choose to exercise all the authority vested in us by the Constitution, therefore you shall not? This would have been a prohibition to do what the Constitution gives power to do. Each successive Congress would still have gone to the Constitution for its power, brushing away in its course the cobwebs stretched across its path by the officiousness of an impertinent predecessor. Again, the legislatures of Virginia and Maryland, had no power to bind Congress, either by an express or an implied pledge, never to abolish slavery in the District. Those legislatures had no power to bind themselves never to abolish slavery within their own territories—the ceded parts included. Where then would they get power to bind another not to do what they had no power to bind themselves not to do? If a legislature could not in this respect control the successive legislatures of its own State, could it control the successive Congresses of the United States?