“What institutions do they wage war upon, Mr. Atkins?” asked Wentworth, civilly.
“Well, sir, slavery for one,” excitedly returned the merchant. “An institution expressly sanctioned by the Constitution, and on the protection of which the safety of this Union depends, Mr. Wentworth. An institution, sir, which no statesman would think of assailing for a moment. Where can you point to one statesman, worthy of the name, from Webster back to Burke, or as far back as you like to go, that has ever assailed a great politico-economical institution like slavery? You’re a scholar, I’m told, Mr. Harrington; now just answer me that question.”
“Mr. Atkins, I am surprised beyond measure that you should ask me such a question,” calmly replied Harrington. “The real difficulty would be to name any statesman of the first eminence that has ever defended slavery. You mention Burke and Webster. Why, sir, the whole record of Mr. Webster’s life up to 1850, is against slavery. It is only eight years ago since he stood up in Faneuil Hall, and said—I quote his very words, for I have been lately reading them—‘What,’ said he, ‘when all the civilized world is opposed to slavery; when morality denounces it; when Christianity denounces it; when everything respected, everything good, bears one united witness against it, is it for America—America, the land of Washington, the model republic of the world—is it for America to come to its assistance, and to insist that the maintenance of slavery is necessary to the support of her institutions!’ Those are Daniel Webster’s very words, sir, and yet you ask when he ever assailed slavery!”
“Good! good!” cried Mrs. Eastman, amidst a general murmur of satisfaction from all but the Atkinses. Mr. Atkins sat dumb, wincing under the crushing blow of the quotation. Their new-born zeal for slavery and kidnapping gave the Boston merchants of that period terribly short memories.
“Faneuil Hall, crowded with Whig merchants, answered those words with six-and-twenty cheers. Have you forgotten them, Mr. Atkins?” said Harrington. “Now the cheers are all for slavery. Now, in defiance of your own statesman’s declaration, you assert slavery to be necessary to the maintenance of your Union. And now, because Phillips and Parker wage war upon slavery, as Webster did then, you would justify their murder.”
Still dumb, with his strong lip nervously twitching, the merchant sat, whelmed in utter confusion.
“You mentioned Burke, Mr. Atkins,” continued Harrington, “and since you have mentioned him, let me ask if you have forgotten his speech to the electors of Bristol? Listen to the words of the greatest statesman since Bacon—for they, too, are fresh in my memory. ‘I have no idea,’ said Edmund Burke—‘I have no idea of a liberty unconnected with honesty and justice. Nor do I believe that any good constitutions of government or of freedom can find it necessary for their security to doom any part of the people to a permanent slavery. Such a constitution of freedom, if such can be, is in effect no more than another name for the tyranny of the strongest faction.’ Those are the words of Burke, sir. If you doubt, Mrs. Eastman will get the volume from the library, and you shall read them for yourself.”
“No consequence, Mr. Harrington, no consequence,” returned the merchant, abruptly rising. “We will not discuss the matter further, sir. Come, Mrs. Atkins, it is time for us to go home.”
“O dear me,” drawled Mrs. Atkins, leaving her seat, “you gentlemen are so fond of these horrid politics. Come, children, come.”