The design attributed to them by Mr. Sumner was to make every one see, beyond the possibility of a mistake, that the Constitution confers no power on Congress to pass a Fugitive Slave Law. "They not only decline all addition of any such power to the compact," says he, "but, to render misapprehension impossible,—to make assurance doubly sure,—to exclude any contrary conclusion, they punctiliously arrange," etc. Now, if such were the case, then we ask if design of so easy accomplishment were ever followed by failure so wonderful?
They failed, in the first place, "to exclude a contrary conclusion" from the Supreme Courts of Massachusetts, of New York, and of Pennsylvania, all of which tribunals have decided that they did confer such a power upon Congress. In the second place, although those wise men labored to make "misapprehension impossible," yet, according to Mr. Sumner, the Supreme Court of the United States has entirely misapprehended them. So far from seeing that the power in question is not granted to Congress, this high tribunal decides that it is clearly and unquestionably granted. This is not all. The most marvellous failure is yet to come. For, after all their pains to make the whole world see their meaning, these wise men did not see it themselves, but went away, many of them, and, in the Congress of 1793, helped to pass a Fugitive Slave Law!
It is to be feared, indeed, that the failure would have been absolutely total but for the wonderful sagacity of a few abolitionists. For the design imputed to the framers of the Constitution, and which they took so much pains to disclose, had remained profoundly concealed from nearly all men, not excepting themselves, until it was detected by Messrs. Sumner, Chase, and company. But these have, at last, discovered it, and now see it as in a flood of light. Indeed, they see it with such transcendent clearness, with such marvellous perspicacity of vision, as to atone for the stupidity and blindness of the rest of mankind.
So much for Mr. Sumner's historical argument. His logical argument is, if possible, still more illogical than his historical. In regard to this, however, we shall be exceedingly brief, as we are sick of his sophisms, and long to be delivered from the pursuit of them.
He encounters, at the outset, "a difficulty" in the legislation of the Congress of 1793 and in the decision of the Supreme Court of the United States." But "on examination," says he, "this difficulty will disappear." Perhaps difficulty so great never vanished so suddenly from before any other man.
The authority of the Congress of 1793, though it contained so many of the most distinguished framers of the Constitution, is annihilated by a few bold strokes of Mr. Sumner's pen. One short paragraph, containing two ineffably weak arguments, does the business.
The first of these arguments is as follows: "The act of 1793 proceeded from a Congress that had already recognized the United States Bank, chartered by a previous Congress, which, though sanctioned by the Supreme Court, has been since in high quarters pronounced unconstitutional. If it erred as to the bank, it may have erred also as to fugitives from labor." We cannot conceive why such an argument should have been propounded, unless it were to excite a prejudice against the Congress of 1793 in the minds of those who may be opposed to a National Bank. For if we look at its conclusion we shall see that it merely aims to establish a point which no one would deny. It merely aims to prove that, as the Congress of 1793 was composed of fallible men, "so it may have erred!" We admit the conclusion, and therefore pass by the inherent weaknesses in the structure of the argument.
His second argument is this: "But the very act contains a capital error[217] on this very subject, so declared by the Supreme Court, in pretending to vest a portion of the judicial power of the nation in state officers. This error takes from the act all authority as an interpretation of the Constitution. I dismiss it." This passage, considered as an argument, is simply ridiculous. How many of the best laws ever enacted by man have, in the midst of much that is as clear as noonday, been found to contain an error! Should all, therefore, have been blindly rejected? As soon as the error has been detected, has any enlightened tribunal on earth ever said, "I dismiss" the whole?
By such a process we might have made as short work with Mr. Sumner's speech. If, after pointing out one error therein, we had dismissed the whole speech as worthless, we should have imitated his reasoning, and in our conclusion have come much nearer to the truth. If we should say, indeed, that because the sun has a spot on its surface it is therefore a great ball of darkness, our argument would be exactly like that of Mr. Sumner. But that great luminary would not refuse to shine in obedience to our contemptible logic. In like manner, the authority of the illustrious Congress of 1793, in which there were so many profound statesmen and pure patriots, will not be the less resplendent because Mr. Charles Sumner has, with Titanic audacity and Lilliputian weakness, assailed it with one of the most pitiful of all the pitiful sophisms that ever were invented by man.
In regard to the decision of the Supreme Court he says: "Whatever maybe the influence of this judgment as a rule to the judiciary, it can not arrest our duty as legislators. And here I adopt, with entire assent, the language of President Jackson, in his memorable veto, in 1832, of the Bank of the United States." He then quotes this language, in which he italicizes the following sentence: "Each public officer, who takes an oath to support the Constitution, swears that he will support it as he understands it, and not as it is understood by others." With these authoritative words of Andrew Jackson," says he, "I dismiss this topic. The early legislation of Congress and the decisions of the Supreme Court can not stand in our way. I advance to the argument." We shall let him advance.
