The proposition before you is the most important ever brought into Congress, unless, perhaps, we except the Amendment abolishing Slavery; and to my mind it is the most reprehensible. The sentiment which inspired us to hail the abolition of Slavery with gratitude, as the triumph of justice, should make us reject with indignation a device to crystallize into organic law the disfranchisement of a race. With intense regret I differ from valued friends about me, but I cannot do otherwise. I bespeak in advance their candor, and most cheerfully concede to all from whom I differ the indulgence which I claim for myself. With me there is no alternative. Seeing this proposition as I do, I must speak frankly, as on other occasions, in exposing the crime against Kansas, or the infamy of that enactment which turned the whole North into a hunting-ground where man was the game. The attempt now is on a larger scale, if not more essentially bad. Such a measure, so obnoxious to every argument of reason, justice, and feeling, so perilous to the national peace, and so injurious to the good name of the Republic, must be encountered as a public enemy. There is no language which can adequately depict its character. Thinking of it, I am reminded of words of Chatham, where he held up to undying judgment a barbarous measure of the British Ministry. The Englishman did not hesitate, nor did he tame his words, but exclaimed:—
“I am astonished, shocked, to hear such principles confessed,—to hear them avowed in this House, or in this country,—principles equally unconstitutional, inhuman, and un-christian.… I call upon your Lordships and the united powers of the State to stamp upon them an indelible stigma of the public abhorrence.”
Then, rising to still higher flight, he cried out:—
“My Lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to say more; but my feelings and indignation were too strong to have said less. I could not have slept this night in my bed, nor reposed my head on my pillow, without giving this vent to my eternal abhorrence of such preposterous and enormous principles.”[222]
But what was the measure which thus aroused the veteran orator, compared with that before us? It was only a transient act of wrong, small in proportions. Here is an act of wrong permanent in influence, colossal in proportions, operating in an extensive region, affecting millions of citizens, positively endangering the peace of the country, and covering its name with dishonor. Such is the character of the present attempt. I exhibit it as I see it. Others may not see it so. Of course, its supporters cannot see it so. The British Ministry did not see the measure which Chatham denounced as he saw it, and as history now sees it. Senators would not support the present proposition, if they thought it disgraceful; nor would the British Ministry have supported that earlier proposition, had they thought it disgraceful. Unhappily, they did not think it so; but I trust you will be warned by their example.
With the eloquence of Chatham, another also from his place in the House of Lords held up to reprobation that apprentice system which, under the sanction of both Houses of Parliament, followed Emancipation in the British West Indies. I refer to Brougham. He did not hesitate to exclaim, “Prodigious, portentous injustice!” And then, continuing, he denounced it as “the gross, the foul, the outrageous, the monstrous, the incredible injustice of which we are daily and hourly guilty towards the whole of the ill-fated African race.”[223] But how small the injustice which aroused his reprobation, compared with that you are asked to perpetuate in Constitutional Law! The wrong he arraigned was against eight hundred thousand persons in distant islands, to whom the people of Great Britain were bound by no peculiar ties, and who were to them only fellow-men. The wrong I now arraign is against four million persons, constituting a considerable portion of the “people” of the United States, to whom we are bound by ties of gratitude, and who are to us fellow-citizens.
From the moment I heard this proposition first read at the desk I have not been able to think of it without pain. The reflection that it may find place in the National Constitution, or even that it may be sanctioned by Congress, is intolerable. And this becomes more so, when I call to mind the circumstances by which we are surrounded and the exigency of the hour.
Lord Bacon tells us that the highest function which men can be called to perform on earth is that of founders of states, or, as he expresses it, conditores imperiorum.[224] Such is our present duty. We are to help in this great work by a fundamental provision fixing the basis of our political system for an indefinite future. There are none among the great lawgivers of history who have had a sublimer task.
This duty is enhanced, when we consider that it is the consequence and sequel of an unparalleled war. At a moment of peace such a duty would be commanding; but it is now reinforced by exceptional considerations arising from the exceptional condition of affairs. For four years, Rebellion, of the greatest magnitude known to authentic history, raged among us, threatening to rend the Republic in twain. Millions of treasure were sacrificed. Lives more precious than any treasure were heaped in hecatombs. Families were filled with mourning. In the terrible struggle, while the country was bleeding at every pore and the scales of battle hung doubtful, assistance came from an unexpected quarter. Intermixed with the false men who warred on the Republic were nearly four million slaves, shut out from rights of all kinds, and compelled to do the bidding of masters. These slaves became our benefactors. They were kind to our captive soldiers, sheltering them, feeding them, supplying their wants, and guiding them to safety. Thus in the very heart of the Rebellion there was a filial throb for the Republic. At last arms were put into their hands, and two hundred thousand brave allies, representatives of an unmustered host, leaped forward in defence of the national cause. The Republic was saved. The Rebellion was at an end. Meanwhile the good President who at that time guided our affairs put forth his immortal Proclamation, declaring that these slaves “are and henceforward shall be free”; and not stopping with this declaration, he proceeded to announce that “the Executive Government of the United States, including the military and naval authorities thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of said persons.” Thus was the Republic solemnly pledged to these benefactors, first, by ties of gratitude that should be enduring, and, secondly, by an open promise in the face of the civilized world. And this pledge was taken up and adopted by the people of the United States, when, by Constitutional Amendment, they expressly empowered Congress to maintain this freedom by appropriate legislation.