Though thus audaciously criminal, the Slave-Masters are not strong in numbers. The whole number, great and small, according to the recent census, is not more than four hundred thousand,—of whom there are less than one hundred thousand interested to any considerable extent in this peculiar species of property.[219] And yet this petty oligarchy—itself controlled by a squad still more petty—in a population of many millions, has aroused and organized this gigantic rebellion. But success is explained by two considerations. First, the asserted value of the slaves, reaching at this date to the enormous sum-total of two thousand millions of dollars, constitutes an overpowering property interest, one of the largest in the world,—greatly increased by the intensity and unity of purpose naturally belonging to the representatives of such a sum-total, stimulated by the questionable character of the property. But, secondly, it is a phenomenon attested by the history of revolutions, that all such movements, at least in their early days, are controlled by minorities. This is because a revolutionary minority, once embarked, has before it only the single, simple path of unhesitating action. While others doubt or hold back, the minority strikes and goes forward. Audacity then counts more than numbers, and crime counts more than virtue. This phenomenon has been observed before. “Often have I reflected with awe,” says Coleridge, “on the great and disproportionate power which an individual of no extraordinary talents or attainments may exert by merely throwing off all restraint of conscience.… The abandonment of all principle of right enables the soul to choose and act upon a principle of wrong, and to subordinate to this one principle all the various vices of human nature.”[220] These are remarkable and most suggestive words. But when was a “principle of wrong” followed with more devotion than by our Rebels?
The French Revolution furnishes authentic illustration of a few predominating over a great change. Among the good men at that time who followed “principle of right” were others with whom success was the primary object, while even good men sometimes forgot goodness; but at each stage a minority gave the law. Pétion, the famous mayor of Paris, boasted, that, when he began, “there were but five men in France who wished a Republic.”[221] From a contemporary debate in the British Parliament, it appears that the asserted power of a minority was made the express ground of appeal by French revolutionists to the people of other countries. Sheridan, in a brilliant speech, dwells on this appeal, and by mistake ascribes to Condorcet the unequivocal utterances, that “revolutions must always be the work of the minority,”—that “every revolution is the work of a minority,”—that “the French Revolution was accomplished by the minority.”[222] This philosopher, who sealed his principles by a tragical death, did say, in an address to the Parliamentary Reformers of England, that from Parliamentary reform “the passage to the complete establishment of a republic would be short and easy”;[223] but it was Cambon, the financier of the Revolution, and one of its active supporters, who, in the National Convention, put forth the cries attributed to Condorcet.[224] The part of the minority was also attested by Brissot de Warville, who imputed the triumph of the Jacobins, under whose bloody sway his own life became a sacrifice, to “some twenty men,” or, as he says in another place, “a score of anarchists,” and then again, “a club, or rather a score of those robbers who direct that club.”[225]
The future historian will record, that the present rebellion, notwithstanding its protracted origin, the multitudes it enlisted, and its extensive sweep, was at last precipitated by fewer than twenty men,—Mr. Everett says by as few as eight or ten.[226] It is certain that thus far it has been the triumph of a minority,—but of a minority moved, inspired, combined, and aggrandized by Slavery.
And now this traitorous minority, putting aside the sneaking, slimy devices of conspiracy, steps forth in full panoply of war. Assuming all functions of government, it organizes States under a common head,—sends ambassadors into foreign countries,—levies taxes,—borrows money,—issues letters of marque,—and sets armies in the field, summoned from distant Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas, as well as from nearer Virginia, and composed of the whole lawless population, the poor who cannot own slaves as well as the rich who pretend to own them, throughout the extensive region where with Satanic grasp this Slave-Master minority claims for itself
“ample room and verge enough
The characters of Hell to trace.”
Pardon the language I employ. The words of the poet picture not too strongly the object proposed. And now these parricidal hosts stand arrayed against that paternal Government to which they owe loyalty, defence, and affection. Never in history did rebellion assume such front. Call their number 400,000 or 200,000,—what you will,—they far surpass any armed forces ever before marshalled in rebellion; they are among the largest ever marshalled in war.
All this is in the name of Slavery, and for the sake of Slavery, and at the bidding of Slavery. The profligate favorite of the English monarch, the famous Duke of Buckingham, was not more exclusively supreme, even according to the words by which he was placarded to the judgment of his contemporaries:—