Here two questions occur, absorbing all others: first, what are our political duties here in Massachusetts at the present time? and, secondly, how, and by what agency, shall they be performed? What and how? These are the two questions, of which I shall briefly speak in their order, attempting no elaborate discussion, but aiming to state the case so that it will be intelligible to all who hear me.
And first, what are our present duties here in Massachusetts? Unfolding these, I need not dwell on the wrong and shame of Slavery, or on the character of the Slave Power—that Oligarchy of Slaveholders—now ruling the Republic. These you understand. And yet there are two outrages, fresh in recollection, which I must not fail to expose, as natural manifestations of Slavery and the Slave Power. One is the repeal of the Prohibition of Slavery in the vast Missouri Territory, now known as Kansas and Nebraska, contrary to time-honored compact and plighted faith. The other is the seizure of Anthony Burns on the free soil of Massachusetts, and his surrender, without judge or jury, to a Slave-Hunter from Virginia, to be thrust back into perpetual bondage. ["Shame! shame!">[ These outrages cry aloud to Heaven, and to you, people of Massachusetts! [Sensation.] Their intrinsic wickedness is enhanced by the way in which they were accomplished. Of the first I know something from personal observation; of the latter I am informed only by public report.
It is characteristic of the Slave Power not to stick at the means supposed needful in carrying forward its plans; but never, on any occasion, were its assumptions so barefaced and tyrannical as in the passage of the Nebraska Bill.
This bill was precipitated upon Congress without one word of public recommendation from the President, without notice or discussion in any newspaper, and without a single petition from the people. It was urged by different advocates, on two principal arguments, so opposite and inconsistent as to slap each other in the face [laughter]: one, that, by the repeal of the Prohibition, the territory would be absolutely open to the entry of slaveholders with their slaves; and the other, that the people there would be left to determine whether slaveholders should enter with their slaves. With some, the apology was the alleged rights of slaveholders; with others, the alleged rights of the people. With some, it was openly the extension of Slavery; and with others, openly the establishment of Freedom, under the pretence of "popular sovereignty." The measure thus upheld in defiance of reason was carried through Congress in defiance of all the securities of legislation.
It was carried, first, by whipping in, through Executive influence and patronage, men who acted against their own declared judgment and the known will of their constituents; secondly, by thrusting out of place, both in the Senate and House of Representatives, important business, long pending, and usurping its room; thirdly, by trampling under foot the rules of the House of Representatives, always before the safeguard of the minority; and, fourthly, by driving it to a close during the present Congress, so that it might not be arrested by the indignant voice of the people. Such were some of the means by which the Nebraska Bill was carried. If the clear will of the people had not been defied, it could not have passed. If the Government had not nefariously interposed, it could not have passed. If it had been left to its natural place in the order of business, it could not have passed. If the rules of the House and the rights of the minority had not been violated, it could not have passed. If it had been allowed to go over to another Congress, when the people might be heard, it would have failed, forever failed.
Contemporaneously with the final triumph of this outrage at Washington, another dismal tragedy was enacted at Boston. In those streets where he had walked as freeman Anthony Burns was seized as slave, under the base pretext that he was a criminal,—imprisoned in the Court-House, which was turned for the time into fortress and barracoon,—guarded by heartless hirelings, whose chief idea of Liberty was license to wrong [loud applause, and cries of "That's it! that's it!"],—escorted by intrusive soldiers of the United States,—watched by a prostituted militia,—and finally given up to a Slave-Hunter by the decree of a petty magistrate, who did not hesitate to take upon his soul the awful responsibility of dooming a fellow-man, in whom he could find no fault, to a fate worse than death. How all this was accomplished I need not relate. Suffice it to say, that, in doing this deed of woe and shame, the liberties of all our citizens, white as well as black, were put in jeopardy, the Mayor of Boston was converted to a tool [applause], the Governor of the Commonwealth to a cipher [long continued applause], the laws, the precious sentiments, the religion, the pride and glory of Massachusetts were trampled in the dust, and you and I and all of us fell down while the Slave Power flourished over us. ["Shame! shame!" and applause.]
These things in themselves are bad, very bad; but they are worse, when regarded as natural offspring of the Oligarchy now swaying the country. And it is this Oligarchy which, at every political hazard, we must oppose, until it is overthrown. Lord Chatham once exclaimed, that the time had been, when he was content to bring France to her knees; now he would not stop till he had laid her on her back. Nor can we be content with less in our warfare. We must not stop till we have laid the Slave Power on its back. [Prolonged cheers.] And, fellow-citizens, permit me to say, not till then will the Free States be absolved from all political responsibility for Slavery, and relieved from that corrupt spirit of compromise which now debases at once their politics and their religion; nor till then will there be repose for the country. [Immense cheering.] Indemnity for the past and security for the future must be our watchwords. [Applause.] But these can be obtained only when Slavery is dispossessed of present vantage-ground, by driving it back exclusively within the limits of the States, and putting the National Government, everywhere within its constitutional sphere, openly, actively, and perpetually on the side of Freedom. The consequences of this change of policy would be of far-reaching and incalculable beneficence. Not only would Freedom become national and Slavery sectional, as was intended by our fathers, but the National Government would become the mighty instrument and herald of Freedom, as it is now the mighty instrument and herald of Slavery. Its powers, its treasury, its patronage, would all be turned, in harmony with the Constitution, to promote Freedom. The Committees of Congress, where Slavery now rules,—Congress itself, and the Cabinet also,—would all be organized for Freedom. The hypocritical disguise or renunciation of Antislavery sentiment would cease to be necessary for the sake of political preferment; and the Slaveholding Oligarchy, banished from the National Government, and despoiled of ill-gotten political consequence, without ability to punish or reward, would cease to be feared, either at the North or the South, until at last the citizens of the Slave States, where a large portion have no interest in Slavery, would demand Emancipation, and the great work would commence. Such is the obvious course of things. To the overthrow of the Slave Power we are summoned by a double call, one political and the other philanthropic,—first, to remove an oppressive tyranny from the National Government, and, secondly, to open the gates of Emancipation in the Slave States. [Loud applause.]