Thus seven times, at seven different stages in our history, since the adoption of the Constitution, has this menace of disunion been made to play its part. Whatever it might have been at first, it is now nothing more than “second childishness and mere oblivion, sans everything.” There is nothing in it which should not be treated with indignant contempt, certainly when employed here in Massachusetts to make us sacrifice our principles.
Absurd on the face, its absurdity is fully appreciated only when we consider its impotence as a remedy for the alleged grievances of the Slave States. They complain that fugitive slaves are not faithfully surrendered,—or, in other words, that some score or two of human beings, following the North Star, with the assistance of Northern men, succeed in securing their freedom. But disunion surely would be a poor remedy for this intolerable grievance; for it would leave them without even their present protection in this respect, without a Fugitive Slave Bill, or any constitutional safeguard, so that all fugitives, just so soon as they crossed the frontiers of the Slave States, would become free,—precisely as if Canada, with its British welcome to slaves, were carried down to the borders of Virginia and Maryland. If slaves escape now, what would they do then? If such things are done in the green tree, what would be done in the dry? Surely, in this case, it were better to
“bear the ills they have
Than fly to others that they know not of.”
The other grievance is of the same character. The Slave-Masters complain, that, by the prohibition of Slavery in the Territories, they are deprived of the opportunity of new Slave States through which their predominance in the Senate may be continued. But, pray, what remedy for this loss can be found in disunion? Surely they cannot add to their present political strength by renouncing securities and dignities which they now enjoy in the national copartnership. It is true, that, while in the Union, they may be voted down on matters within the national jurisdiction and outside of the States; but they may nevertheless exert an influence, which on their withdrawal must be entirely renounced.
Such are the two grievances which are to justify disunion; and pardon me, if I venture to illustrate the irrational character of this remedy by an incident of scientific interest. The monkey in the Jardin des Plantes at Paris was found biting the rope by which he was suspended from the roof. “See,” said the learned professor, “that monkey shows the difference between brutes and men. He sees what he is doing, but does not see the consequence,—that down he will fall.” And the Slave States also bite the rope by which they are suspended, and, like the unreasoning brute, see not the consequence.
Yet more apparent is the absurdity of this threat, when we consider how it is to be accomplished. If the Slave States were solemnly unanimous at home, the cry might have a certain force. But it is well known that they are not unanimous. Whatever the threats of disorganizing extremists, the large mass of people even in the Slave States do not desire disunion. They keep aloof now from such threats, and openly declare their purpose to put down the traitors without assistance from the North; and this I cannot doubt would be done. Such men as Cassius M. Clay and the Blairs would find a field for their energies, and they would see at their side people who have not hitherto acted with them gladly forgetting past differences for the sake of a common cause. Here are emphatic words, just uttered by a speaker at the South, in reply to Mr. Yancey, which show that any such attempt would fare badly, even at home:—
“I am one of a numerous party at the South, who will, if even Lincoln shall be elected under the forms of our Constitution and by the authority of law, without committing any other offence than being elected, force the vile disunionists and secessionists of the South to pass over our dead bodies in their march to Washington to break up this government.”
But the absurdity of this threat glares upon us still more, when we reflect on the unhappy condition in which disunion would leave the seceding Slave States. Antiquity, by numerous instances, declares the danger from slaves, and history is continually verifying this truth. Even now, while I speak, we hear of insurrection at Norfolk, in Virginia, carrying with it wide-spread alarm, and the necessity for most especial vigilance. But in the event of disunion this condition would become permanent, so that life, if not a tragedy, would be a penance long drawn out. The whole region cursed with Slavery would be dotted over with fortifications and military posts; communities would be changed into camps carefully guarded against surprise; life would be as in Turkey or Tartary; and every Slave-Master would sleep with all the precautions of a highwayman fearing arrest, or of the mad prince, Don Carlos of Spain, who had two naked swords and two loaded pistols under his bed, and two arquebuses with powder and balls in his closet. The mother, as she heard the fire-bell at midnight, would clasp her infant to her breast, fearful that at last the long hoarded resentments of the slave would be vindictively indulged. Even the soil, now so productive, would refuse its increase; for Nature herself would cease to smile amidst the alarms of servile war. Thus cruelly harassed and impoverished at home, the Slave States could find little comfort abroad. For a brief moment they might brave the scorn and contempt poured upon them; but they must fail to have the sensibilities of men, or they would at last shrink before the finger-point of the civilized world. The house of Lycaon, the cruel king of early Greece, was destroyed by the thunder of Jove, and the miserable monarch changed to a wolf. Such would be the doom of a State which set at defiance the laws of Humanity. It would have a wolf’s head, and all would be against it.