The magistrate who pronounces the decree of Slavery, and the marshal who enforces it, act in obedience to law. This is their apology; and it is the apology also of the masters of the Inquisition, as they ply the torture amidst the shrieks of their victim. Can this weaken accountability for wrong? Disguise it, excuse it, as they will, the fact must glare before the world, and penetrate the conscience too, that the fetters by which the unhappy fugitive is bound are riveted by their tribunal,—that his second life of wretchedness dates from their agency,—that his second birth as a slave proceeds from them. The magistrate and marshal do for him here, in a country which vaunts a Christian civilization, what the naked, barbarous Pagan chiefs beyond the sea did for his grandfather in Congo: they transfer him to the Slave-Hunter, and for this service receive the very price paid for his grandfather in Congo,—ten dollars! ["Shame! shame!">[
Gracious Heaven! can such things be on our Free Soil? ["No!">[ Shall the evasion of Pontius Pilate be enacted anew, and a judge vainly attempt, by washing the hands, to excuse himself for condemning one in whom he can "find no fault"? Should any court, sitting here in Massachusetts, for the first time in her history, become agent of the Slave-Hunter, the very images of our fathers would frown from the walls; their voices would cry from the ground; their spirits, hovering in the air, would plead, remonstrate, protest, against the cruel judgment. [Cheers.] There is a legend of the Church, still living on the admired canvas of a Venetian artist, that St. Mark, descending from the skies with headlong fury into the public square, broke the manacles of a slave in presence of the very judge who had decreed his fate. This is known as "The Miracle of the Slave," and grandly has Art illumined the scene.[57] Should Massachusetts hereafter, in an evil hour, be desecrated by any such decree, may the good Evangelist once more descend with valiant arm to break the manacles of the Slave! [Enthusiasm.]
Sir, I will not dishonor this home of the Pilgrims, and of the Revolution, by admitting—nay, I cannot believe—that this Bill will be executed here. ["Never!">[ Among us, as elsewhere, individuals may forget humanity, in fancied loyalty to law; but the public conscience will not allow a man who has trodden our streets as a freeman to be dragged away as a slave. [Applause.] By escape from bondage he has shown that true manhood which must grapple to him every honest heart. He may be ignorant and rude, as poor, but he is of true nobility. Fugitive Slaves are the heroes of our age. In sacrificing them to this foul enactment we violate every sentiment of hospitality, every whispering of the heart, every commandment of religion.
There are many who will never shrink, at any cost, and notwithstanding all the atrocious penalties of this Bill, from effort to save a wandering fellow-man from bondage; they will offer him the shelter of their houses, and, if need be, will protect his liberty by force. But let me be understood; I counsel no violence. There is another power, stronger than any individual arm, which I invoke: I mean that irresistible Public Opinion, inspired by love of God and man, which, without violence or noise, gently as the operations of Nature, makes and unmakes laws. Let this Public Opinion be felt in its might, and the Fugitive Slave Bill will become everywhere among us a dead letter. No lawyer will aid it by counsel, no citizen will be its agent; it will die of inanition,—like a spider beneath an exhausted receiver. [Laughter.] Oh! it were well the tidings should spread throughout the land that here in Massachusetts this accursed Bill has found no servant. [Cheers.] "Sire, in Bayonne are honest citizens and brave soldiers only, but not one executioner," was the reply of the governor to the royal mandate from Charles the Ninth, of France, ordering the massacre of St. Bartholomew.[58] [Sensation.]
It rests with you, my fellow-citizens, by word and example, by calm determinations and devoted lives, to do this work. From a humane, just, and religious people will spring a Public Opinion to keep perpetual guard over the liberties of all within our borders. Nay, more, like the flaming sword of the cherubim at the gates of Paradise, turning on every side, it shall prevent any SLAVE-HUNTER from ever setting foot in this Commonwealth. Elsewhere he may pursue his human prey, employ his congenial bloodhounds, and exult in his successful game; but into Massachusetts he must not come. Again, let me be understood, I counsel no violence. I would not touch his person. Not with whips and thongs would I scourge him from the land. The contempt, the indignation, the abhorrence of the community shall be our weapons of offence. Wherever he moves, he shall find no house to receive him, no table spread to nourish him, no welcome to cheer him. The dismal lot of the Roman exile shall be his. He shall be a wanderer, without roof, fire, or water. Men shall point at him in the streets, and on the highways.
"Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his penthouse-lid;
He shall live a man forbid;