On Saturday evening, the debate between Messrs. Green and Freeman, on the subject of gambling, was resumed, in the Lecture-room of the Museum building. There was a full audience in attendance, and towards the close of the debate, the proceedings became intensely interesting.
At the appointed hour, Dr. Elder, the moderator, made a few remarks, by way of opening the meeting, and introduced
Mr. Freeman, who, upon advancing to the table, said that he regarded it as complimentary indeed, that he was permitted to proceed with the discussion. Under all the circumstances, he considered it a great compliment, that a highly intelligent audience should listen to one of the proscribed fraternity. But friends, (said the speaker,) if the scene of the discussion lay farther South, in the region of the spot where he was born, he would not consider it so much of a compliment—he would not make such a concession, even from the great Harry of the West down to my fallen foe. In looking round the staging he observed new faces, and missed those who had previously occupied their places—he had heard those men had consulted their dignity, and any man (in the opinion of the speaker) who thinks more of his dignity than his duty is not fit to occupy the sacred desk. The arguments which he had brought forward on the previous occasions have not been answered. Mr. Green has not even attempted to do so, but he (the speaker) had found that a worthy gentleman had entered the field, though not verbally, and endeavoured to supply the place of his opponent. He would take the liberty to compliment him—the distinguished editor of the Post—though he did not know him, nor that such a paper as the Post was printed. That editor, like many others whose prejudices overbalance their reason, had misunderstood him. The speaker then indulged in a critique on the editorial, principally upon the ground which he had taken—that a man has a right to do with his own things what he pleases, provided, in so doing, he does not infringe upon the rights of others. On this point, it appeared that the editor thought and argued differently, and Mr. Freeman said, that in taking the above ground, he did not claim originality, for it is a principle of law, as laid down in Blackstone, Paley, and others—it is the language of great commentators, and upon it he would stand or fall, and leave the distinguished editor to battle with those men.
Some things, continued the speaker, may seem inconsistent at first, which, upon examination, are not inconsistent. A thing may be legally right and morally wrong, and whilst he could defend it legally, he could not morally. For instance, suppose a rich man had two sons, both of whom acted as sons should act, and the father in making out his will should devise his whole estate to one son, and cut the other off, as they say in England, with a shilling. Now, who would deny his right to do so if it pleased him; who would say that it is not legally right?—no one. But would it be morally right?—certainly not. What is morality?—love your God, your neighbour, and yourself. And though he could defend the will as legal, yet in a moral point of view he could condemn it as unnatural. The editor of the Post (said the speaker) confounds gambling with robbery, and what for?—that future generations may grow up in faith. It is, said he, a settled principle of morality never to hoist false colours, but to raise the standard of truth and defend it to the last. (Applause.)
He remembered an anecdote: a physician was sent to attend a poor sick boy, and when he arrived at the couch of pain and distress, he found it necessary to administer a pill—a very nauseous dose. Said the mother—"Doctor, it would be better to put a little sugar on it, and then he can take it, and not know it's a pill." "No, madam," replied the doctor, "it won't do to deceive him. Here, my son," said the practitioner, "take this medicine and it will cure you," and the little fellow swallowed it like a man. Thus it is with Mr. Green and the green editor; they associate the gambler, without distinction, with assassins and robbers. In doing so they are wrong; they do not speak the truth. The speaker then proceeded to show how a young man may often be lured into temptation—by representing gamblers as assassins, who, upon acquaintance, he finds are apparently gentlemen, and he is induced to think that he has been hitherto misled and deceived in regard to such men. He then cultivates their acquaintance, and finally, through his own depravity, he becomes worse and worse, until he is at last swallowed up in the vortex of degradation. This is the result of employing dishonourable measures to prevent him from visiting such places, or to carry out honourable ends.
A man has a right to commit suicide, so far as propriety is concerned. If he does not owe any thing, and feels it in his conscience that he would like to die, he has a right to do so—but if that man owes five dollars, he would certainly violate a moral principle by killing himself, because he ought to live as long as he can to pay his debt. The speaker once knew a man, in good circumstances, who was weary of existence, and feeling disposed to take a journey to "that bourne whence no traveller returns," committed suicide. There may be many who would call it murder—but the community are murderers—they sometimes murder in cold blood. But lately a man was taken to the gallows, and they hung a young man because he had killed somebody else, and yet there are many persons who believe this is right, and that suicide, such as the speaker had selected, is wrong.
The speaker now proceeded to criticize the law relative to gambling, passed at the recent legislature, in which he said that if a man has a fixed place of residence and carries on a dry goods business, he might gamble as much as should please him and the law would not take hold of him. He would ask anybody to read the law understandingly and then deny this round assertion. This act, said he, is bugbear—it is a disgrace as it now stands, for it smacks of cowardice. The legislators, he presumed, had a little sense, and they knew that some kind of a law must be passed, and they were ingenious enough to know how to frame it to sound well, and yet be comparatively powerless. They knew by such a statute that nolle prosequis could be entered—and solicitors make more money—they well knew that there were many religious people among their constituents, and it would not do for them to act singular, or else they would find so short an account at the next ballot-box that they would not be sent back. He would spurn such legislators and keep them for ever in private life. (Applause.)
In conclusion, he said that he was decidedly an anti-gambler, and he did not defend the subject morally. In order that he might enlighten the people on the subject of gambling, he would give one lecture, in which he would relate his experience, and promised that it should be the richest and most interesting thing that could be listened to. He did not want money. He would only ask enough to pay expenses of the room—the ladies and the reverend clergy may come in gratis—all he wished was that the truth should be told about gambling.
Mr. Green now took the stand, and said that it appeared to him that there was something in the law which seemed to stick to his opponent, Mr. Freeman. He complains that the Jaw is dull—that it is trash—a bugbear, and heaps other similar epithets upon it, and yet he appears to make considerable noise about it, and why should he attempt to ridicule me, in connection with the law. Every man in this state knows that Mr. Green himself could not pass the law without the aid of the legislature. He (Mr. Freeman) goes on to take many other positions which he (the speaker) could not understand, and therefore would not further allude to them. He thought that if the young men were warned properly to keep aloof from the gambling shops, and they should heed the warning, they would escape a life of infamy. 'Tis true, a young man may go from the parlour to a gambling-place. He will first find the gamblers fascinating—rooms handsomely furnished—fine suppers given, and in fact, every temptation may be set out to catch the unwary novice. The gambler will tell him this reform is all priestcraft—you can see for yourself that we (gamblers) are not the assassins which we are represented to be—these reformers don't speak the truth. The young man is blinded—he thinks he knows by this time all about the gamblers—but in fact he knows nothing. He goes on by degrees, until becoming more hardened, he does not fear to do that which would have made him recoil with horror, in the outset. He may go to another city—carry letters of introduction to prominent gamblers—forty other letters may get there before him, putting the robbers on the look out, getting them to set their stool-pigeons. The young man is trapped—he is enticed into a gambling hell—don't call them sporting saloons or gambling-rooms, (said the speaker,) but call them what they are, hells—he loses all his money—his character is gone—he is ruined, and who then cares for him—does the gambler?