Slavery: letters and speeches

by Horace Mann

Mr. Chairman;

I have listened with interest, both yesterday and to-day, to speeches on what is called the “Presidential Question.” I propose to discuss a question of far greater magnitude,—the question of the age,—one whose consequences will not end with the ensuing four years, but will reach forward to the setting of the sun of time.

Sir, our position is this: The United States finds itself the owner of a vast region of country at the west, now almost vacant of inhabitants. Parts of this region are salubrious and fertile. We have reason to suppose, that, in addition to the treasures of wealth which industry may gather from its surface, there are mineral treasures beneath it,—riches garnered up of old in subterranean chambers, and only awaiting the application of intelligence and skill to be converted into the means of human improvement and happiness. These regions, it is true, lie remote from our place of residence. Their shores are washed by another sea, and it is no figure of speech to say that another sky bends over them. So remote are they, that their hours are not as our hours, nor their day as our day; and yet, such are the wonderful improvements in art, in modern times, as to make it no rash anticipation, that, before this century shall have closed, the inhabitants on the Atlantic shores will be able to visit their brethren on the Pacific in ten days; and that intelligence will be transmitted and returned between the eastern and the western oceans in ten minutes. That country, therefore, will be rapidly filled, and we shall be brought into intimate relations with it, and, notwithstanding its distance, into proximity to it.

Now, in the providence of God, it has fallen to our lot to legislate for this unoccupied, or but partially occupied, expanse. Its great future hangs upon our decision. Not only degrees of latitude and longitude, but vast tracts of time,—ages and centuries,—seem at our disposal. As are the institutions which we form and establish there, so will be the men whom these institutions, in their turn, will form. Nature works by fixed laws; but we can bring this or that combination of circumstances under the operation of her laws, and thus determine results. Here springs up our responsibility. One class of institutions will gather there one class of men, who will develop one set of characteristics; another class of institutions will gather there another class of men, who will develop other characteristics. Hence their futurity is to depend upon our present action. Hence the acts we are to perform seem to partake of the nature of creation, rather than of legislation. Standing upon the elevation which we now occupy, and looking over into that empty world, “yet void,” if not “without form,” but soon to be filled with multitudinous life, and reflecting upon our power to give form and character to that life, and almost to foreördain what it shall be, I feel as though it would be no irreverence to compare our condition to that of the Creator before he fashioned the “lord” of this lower world; for we, like Him, can ingraft one set of attributes, or another set of attributes, upon a whole race of men. In approaching this subject, therefore, I feel a sense of responsibility corresponding to the infinite,—I speak literally,—the infinite interests which it embraces.

As far as the time allowed me will permit, I propose to discuss two questions. The first is, “Whether Congress can lawfully legislate on the subject of slavery in the territories.”

On this question a new and most extraordinary doctrine has lately been broached. A new reading of the constitution has been discovered. It is averred that the 3d section of the 4th article, giving Congress power “to dispose of, and make all needful rules and regulations respecting the territory or other property belonging to the United States,” only gives power to legislate for the land as land. It is admitted that Congress may legislate for the land as land,—geologically or botanically considered,—perhaps for the beasts that roam upon its surface, or the fishes that swim in its waters; but it is denied that Congress possesses any power to determine the laws and the institutions of those who shall inhabit that “land.”

But compare this with any other object of purchase or possession. When Texas was admitted into the Union, it transferred its “navy” to the United States; in other words, the United States bought, and of course owned, the navy of Texas. What power had Congress over this navy, after the purchase? According to the new doctrine, it could pass laws for the hull, the masts, and the sails of the Texan ships, but would have no power to navigate them by officers and men. It might govern the ships as so much wood, iron, and cordage, but would have no authority over commanders or crews.

But we are challenged to show any clause in the constitution which confers an express power to legislate over the territories we possess. I challenge our opponents to show any clause which confers express power to acquire those territories themselves. If, then, the power to acquire exists, it exists by implication and inference; and if the power to acquire be an implied one, the power to govern what is acquired must be implied also. For, for what purpose does any man acquire property but to govern and control it? What does a buyer pay for, if it be not the right to “dispose of”? Such is the doctrine of the Supreme Court of the United States: “The right to govern,” says Chief Justice Marshall, “may be the inevitable consequence of the right to acquire.” Amer. Ins. Co. vs. Canter, 1 Peters, 542. See also McCullough vs. Maryland, 4 Wheat., 422. The Cherokee Nation vs. Georgia, 5 Peters, 44. United States vs. Gratiot, 14 Peters, 537.

But I refer to the express words of the constitution, as ample and effective in conferring all the power that is claimed. “Congress may dispose of, and make all needful rules and regulations,” &c. If Congress may “dispose of” this land, then it may sell it. Inseparable from the right to sell is the right to define the terms of sale. The seller may affix such conditions and limitations as he pleases to the thing sold. If this be not so, then the buyer may dictate his terms to the seller. Answer these simple questions: Supposing the United States to own land in fee simple, then, is the government under guardianship, or disabled by minority? Is it non compos mentis? If no such disability applies to it, then it may sell. It may sell the fee simple, or it may carve out a lesser estate, and sell that. It may incorporate such terms and conditions as it pleases into its deed or patent of sale. It may make an outright quitclaim, or it may reserve the minerals for its own use, or the navigable streams for public highways, as it did in regard to the territory north-west of the river Ohio. It may insert the conditions and limitations in each deed or patent; or, where the grantees are numerous, it may make general “rules and regulations,” which are understood to be a part of each contract, and are therefore binding upon each purchaser. No man is compelled to buy; but if any one does buy, he buys subject to the “rules and regulations” expressed in the grant; and neither he, nor his grantees, nor his or their heirs after them, can complain. I want, therefore, no better foundation for legislating over the territories than the fact of ownership in the United States. Grant this, and all is granted. If I own a farm, or a shop, I may, as owner, prescribe the conditions of its transfer to another. If he does not like my conditions, then let him abandon the negotiation; if he accedes to the conditions, then let him abide by them, and hold his peace.

Sir, in the state to which I belong, we hold temperance to be a great blessing, as well as a great virtue; and intemperance to be a great curse, as well as a great sin. I know of incorporated companies there, who have purchased large tracts of land for manufacturing purposes. They well know how essential is the sobriety of workmen to the profitableness of their work; they know, too, how wasteful and destructive is inebriety. In disposing of their land, therefore, to the men whom they would gather about them and employ, they incorporate the provision, as a fundamental article in the deed of grant, that ardent spirits shall never be sold upon the premises; and thus they shut up, at once, one of the most densely-thronged gateways of hell. Have they not a right to do so, from the mere fact of ownership? Would any judge or lawyer doubt the validity of such a condition; or would any sensible man ever doubt its wisdom or humanity? Pecuniarily and morally, this comes under the head of “needful rules and regulations.” If tipplers do not like them, let them stagger away, and seek their residence elsewhere.