Thus it stands. The word “white” found no place in the original Common Law; nor did it find any place afterward in our two title-deeds of Constitutional Liberty, each interpreting the other, and being the fountain out of which are derived the rights and duties of the American citizen. Nor, again, did it find place in the Constitutional Amendment expressly defining a “citizen.” How, then, can it become a limitation upon the citizen? By what title can any one say, “I am a white lord”? Every statute and all legislation, whether National or State, must be in complete conformity with the two title-deeds. To these must they be brought as to an unerring touchstone; and it is the same with the State as with the Nation. Strange indeed, if an odious discrimination, without support in the original Common Law or the Constitution, and openly condemned by the Declaration of Independence, can escape judgment by skulking within State lines! Wherever it shows itself, whatever form it takes, it is the same barefaced and insufferable imposture, a mere relic of Slavery, to be treated always with indignant contempt, and trampled out as an unmitigated “humbug.” The word may not be juridical; I should not use it if it were unparliamentary; but I know no term which expresses so well the little foundation for this pretension.
CITIZENSHIP.
That this should continue to flaunt, now that Slavery is condemned, increases the inconsistency. By the decree against that wrong all semblance of apology was removed. Ceasing to be a slave, the former victim has become not only a man, but a Citizen, admitted alike within the pale of humanity and within the pale of citizenship. As man he is entitled to all the rights of man, and as citizen he becomes a member of our common household, with Equality as the prevailing law. No longer an African, he is an American; no longer a slave, he is a common part of the Republic, owing to it patriotic allegiance in return for the protection of equal laws. By incorporation with the body-politic he becomes a partner in that transcendent unity, so that there can be no injury to him without injury to all. Insult to him is insult to an American citizen. Dishonor to him is dishonor to the Republic itself. Whatever he may have been, he is now the same as ourselves. Our rights are his rights; our equality is his equality; our privileges and immunities are his great freehold. To enjoy his citizenship, people from afar, various in race and complexion, seek our shores, losing here all distinctions of birth,—as into the ocean all rivers flow, losing all trace of origin or color, and there is but one uniform expanse of water, where each particle is like every other particle, and all are subject to the same law. In this citizenship the African is now absorbed.
Not only is he Citizen. There is no office in the Republic, from lowest to highest, executive, judicial, or representative, which is closed against him. The doors of this Chamber swing open, and he sits here the coëqual of any Senator. The doors of the other Chamber also swing open. Nay, Sir, he may be Vice-President, he may be President; but he cannot enter a hotel or public conveyance, or offer his child at the common school, without insult on account of color. Nothing can make this terrible inconsistency more conspicuous. An American citizen, with every office wide open to his honorable ambition, in whom are all the great possibilities of our Republic, who may be anything according to merit, is exposed to a scourge which descends upon the soul as the scourge of Slavery descended upon the flesh.
In ancient times the cry, “I am a Roman citizen,” stayed the scourge of the Lictor; and this cry, with its lesson of immunity, has resounded through the ages, testifying to Roman greatness. Once it was on the lips of Paul, as appears in the familiar narrative:—
“And as they bound him with thongs, Paul said unto the centurion that stood by, Is it lawful for you to scourge a man that is a Roman, and uncondemned?
“When the centurion heard that, he went and told the chief captain, saying, Take heed what thou doest; for this man is a Roman.
…
“And the chief captain also was afraid, after he knew that he was a Roman, and because he had bound him.”[217]
Will not our “Chief Captain,” will not Senators, take heed what they do, that the scourge may not continue to fall upon a whole race, each one of whom is an American and uncondemned? Is our citizenship a feebler safeguard than that of Rome? Shall the cry, “I am an American citizen,” be raised in vain against perpetual outrage?