Among us the term is most known as the technical name for one of the political societies composing our Union. When used in this restricted sense, it must not be confounded with the same term when used in a different and broader sense. But it is obvious that some persons attribute to the one something of the qualities which can belong only to the other. Nobody has suggested, I presume, that any “State” of our Union has, through rebellion, ceased to exist as a civil society, or even as a political community. It is only as a State of the Union, armed with State Rights, or at least as a local government, annually renewing itself, as the snake its skin, that it can be called in question. But it is vain to challenge for the technical “State,” or for the annual government, that immortality which belongs to civil society. The one is an artificial body, the other is a natural body; and while the former, overwhelmed by insurrection or war, may change or die, the latter can change or die only with the extinction of the community itself, whatever its name or its form.
It is because of confusion in the use of this term that there has been so much confusion in the political controversies where it has been employed. But nowhere has this confusion led to greater absurdity than in the pretension recently made in the name of State Rights,—as if it were reasonable to claim for a technical “State” of the Union that immortality belonging to civil society.
From approved authorities it appears that a “State,” even in a broader signification, may lose its life. Dr. Phillimore, in his recent work on International Law, says: “A State, like an individual, may die,” and among the various ways, he says, “by its submission, and the donation of itself, as it were, to another country.”[197] But in the case of our Rebel States there has been a plain submission and donation of themselves, effective, at least, to break the continuity of government, if not to destroy that immortality which is claimed. Nor can it make any difference, in breaking this continuity, that the submission and donation, constituting a species of attornment, are to enemies at home rather than to enemies abroad,—to Jefferson Davis rather than to Louis Napoleon. The thread is snapped in one case as much as in the other.
But change of form in the actual government may be equally effective. Cicero speaks of change so complete as “to leave no image of a State behind.” This is precisely what has been done throughout the whole Rebel region: no image of a constitutional State is left behind. Another authority, Aristotle, whose words are always weighty, says, that, the form of the State being changed, the State is no longer the same, as the harmony is not the same when we modulate out of the Dorian mood into the Phrygian. But, if ever an unlucky people modulated out of one mood into another, it was our Rebels, when they undertook to modulate out of the harmonies of the Constitution into their bloody discords.
Without stopping further for these diversions, I content myself with the testimony of Edmund Burke, who, in a striking passage, which seems to have been written for us, portrays the extinction of a political community; but I quote his eloquent words rather for suggestion than authority.
“In a state of rude Nature there is no such thing as a people. A number of men in themselves have no collective capacity. The idea of a people is the idea of a corporation. It is wholly artificial, and made, like all other legal fictions, by common agreement. What the particular nature of that agreement was is collected from the form into which the particular society has been cast. Any other is not their covenant. When men, therefore, break up the original compact or agreement which gives its corporate form and capacity to a state, they are no longer a people, they have no longer a corporate existence, they have no longer a legal coactive force to bind within, nor a claim to be recognized abroad. They are a number of vague, loose individuals, and nothing more. With them all is to begin again. Alas! they little know how many a weary step is to be taken before they can form themselves into a mass which has a true politic personality.”[198]
If that great master of eloquence could be heard, who can doubt that he would stamp our Rebel States as senseless communities who have sacrificed that corporate existence which makes them living, component members of our Union of States?
Again, it is sometimes said that the States, by flagrant treason, have forfeited their rights as States, so as to be civilly dead. It is a patent and indisputable fact, that this gigantic treason was inaugurated with all the forms of law known to the States; that it was carried forward not only by individuals, but also by States, so far as States can perpetrate treason; that the States pretended to withdraw bodily, in their corporate capacities; that the Rebellion, as it showed itself, was by States, as well as in States; that it was by the governments of States, as well as by the people of States; and that, to the common observer, the crime was consummated by the several corporations, as well as by the individuals of whom they were composed. From this fact, obvious to all, it is argued, that, since, according to Blackstone, a traitor “hath abandoned his connections with society, and hath no longer any right to those advantages which before belonged to him purely as a member of the community,”[199] by the same principle the traitor State is no longer to be regarded as a member of the Union. But it is not necessary, on the present occasion, to insist on the application of any such principle to States.