“My Lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to say
more; but my feelings and indignation were too strong to
have said less. I could not have slept this night in my bed,
nor reposed my head on my pillow, without giving this vent
to my eternal abhorrence of such preposterous and enormous
principles.”[222]
But what was the measure which thus aroused the veteran orator,
compared with that before us? It was only a transient act of wrong,
small in proportions. Here is an act of wrong permanent in influence,
colossal in proportions, operating in an extensive region, affecting
millions of citizens, positively endangering the peace of the country,
and covering its name with dishonor. Such is the character of the
present attempt. I exhibit it as I see it. Others may not see it so. Of
course, its supporters cannot see it so. The British Ministry did not
see the measure which Chatham denounced as he saw it, and as history
now sees it. Senators would not support the present proposition, if
they thought it disgraceful; nor would the British Ministry have
supported that earlier proposition, had they thought it disgraceful.
Unhappily, they did not think it so; but I trust you will be warned by
their example.
With the eloquence of Chatham, another also from his place in the House
of Lords held up to reprobation that apprentice system which, under
the sanction of both Houses of Parliament, followed Emancipation in
the British West Indies. I refer to Brougham. He did not hesitate to
exclaim, “Prodigious, portentous injustice!” And then, continuing, he
denounced it as “the gross, the foul, the outrageous, the monstrous,
the incredible injustice of which we are daily and hourly guilty
towards the whole of the ill-fated African race.”[223] But how small
the injustice which aroused his reprobation, compared with that you are
asked to perpetuate in Constitutional Law! The wrong he arraigned was
against eight hundred thousand persons in distant islands, to whom the
people of Great Britain were bound by no peculiar ties, and who were to
them only fellow-men. The wrong I now arraign is against four million
persons, constituting a considerable portion of the “people” of the
United States, to whom we are bound by ties of gratitude, and who are
to us fellow-citizens.
From the moment I heard this proposition first read at the desk I have
not been able to think of it without pain. The reflection that it
may find place in the National Constitution, or even that it may be
sanctioned by Congress, is intolerable. And this becomes more so, when
I call to mind the circumstances by which we are surrounded and the
exigency of the hour.
Lord Bacon tells us that the highest function which men can be called
to perform on earth is that of founders of states, or, as he expresses
it, _conditores imperiorum_.[224] Such is our present duty. We are to
help in this great work by a fundamental provision fixing the basis of
our political system for an indefinite future. There are none among the
great lawgivers of history who have had a sublimer task.
This duty is enhanced, when we consider that it is the consequence and
sequel of an unparalleled war. At a moment of peace such a duty would
be commanding; but it is now reinforced by exceptional considerations
arising from the exceptional condition of affairs. For four years,
Rebellion, of the greatest magnitude known to authentic history,
raged among us, threatening to rend the Republic in twain. Millions
of treasure were sacrificed. Lives more precious than any treasure
were heaped in hecatombs. Families were filled with mourning. In the
terrible struggle, while the country was bleeding at every pore and
the scales of battle hung doubtful, assistance came from an unexpected
quarter. Intermixed with the false men who warred on the Republic
were nearly four million slaves, shut out from rights of all kinds,
and compelled to do the bidding of masters. These slaves became our
benefactors. They were kind to our captive soldiers, sheltering them,
feeding them, supplying their wants, and guiding them to safety. Thus
in the very heart of the Rebellion there was a filial throb for the
Republic. At last arms were put into their hands, and two hundred
thousand brave allies, representatives of an unmustered host, leaped
forward in defence of the national cause. The Republic was saved. The
Rebellion was at an end. Meanwhile the good President who at that time
guided our affairs put forth his immortal Proclamation, declaring that
these slaves “are and henceforward shall be free”; and not stopping
with this declaration, he proceeded to announce that “the Executive
Government of the United States, including the military and naval
authorities thereof, will recognize and _maintain_ the freedom of said
persons.” Thus was the Republic solemnly pledged to these benefactors,
first, by ties of gratitude that should be enduring, and, secondly, by
an open promise in the face of the civilized world. And this pledge
was taken up and adopted by the people of the United States, when, by
Constitutional Amendment, they expressly empowered Congress to maintain
this freedom by appropriate legislation.
And now, Sir, called to readjust the foundations of political power,
which are naturally changed by the disappearance of Slavery, and
called also to perform sacred promises to benefactors, in harmony with
sacred promises of our fathers, while at the same time we save the
name of the Republic from dishonor and see that the national peace is
not imperilled, Congress is about to liquidate all these inviolable
obligations by a new compromise of Human Rights, and, so far as it
can, to place this compromise in the text of the Constitution, thus
establishing a false foundation of political power, violating the
national faith, dishonoring the name of Republic, and imperilling the
national peace. Others have dwelt on the inadequacy of this attempt,
even for its avowed purposes. This is plain. Conceived in a desire to
do indirectly what ought to be done directly, it must naturally share
the conditions of such a device.
Looking at the proposition in its most general aspect, it reminds me,
if you will pardon the illustration, of that leg of mutton, served
for dinner on the road from London to Oxford, which Dr. Johnson, with
characteristic pungency, described “as bad as bad could be,--ill-fed,
ill-killed, ill-kept, and ill-dressed.”[225] So this measure--I adopt
the saying of an eminent friend, who insists that it cannot be called
an “amendment,” but rather a “detriment,” to the Constitution--is as
bad as bad can be; and even for its avowed purpose uncertain, loose,
cracked, and rickety. _Regarding it as a proposition from Congress
to meet the unparalleled exigencies of the hour_, it is no better
than the “muscipular abortion” sent into the world by the “parturient
mountain.”[226] But only when we look at the chance of good is it
“muscipular.” In every other aspect it is gigantic, inasmuch as it
makes the Constitution a well-spring of insupportable thraldom, and
once more lifts the sluices of blood destined to run until it rises to
the horse’s bridle. Adopt it, and you put millions of fellow-citizens
under the ban of excommunication, you hand them over to a new anathema
maranatha, you declare that they have no _political_ rights “which
the white man is bound to respect,”--thus repeating in new form the
abomination that has blackened the name of Taney. Adopt it, and you
stimulate anew the war of race upon race. Slavery itself was a war of
race upon race, and this is only a new form of the terrible war. The
proposition is as hardy as gigantic; for it takes no account of the
moral sense of mankind, which is the same as if in rearing a monument
we took no account of the law of gravitation. It is the paragon and
master-piece of ingratitude, showing more than any other act of history
what is so often charged and we so fondly deny, that republics are
ungrateful. The freedmen ask for bread, and you send them a stone.
With piteous voice they ask for protection; you thrust them back
defenceless into the cruel den of former masters. Such an attempt,
thus bad as bad can be, thus abortive for all good, thus perilous,
thus pregnant with a war of race upon race, thus shocking to the moral
sense, and thus treacherous to those whom we are bound to protect,
cannot be otherwise than shameful.
I shall not content myself with describing the device. This is not
enough. You have seen it in its general character only. You shall see
it now in its guilty parts, each one of which is sufficient to arouse
the conscience against it.
* * * * *
1. Of course you cannot fail to be struck by its language. Here words
become things. In express terms there is _admission of the idea of
Inequality of Rights founded on race or color_. That this unrepublican
idea should be allowed to find place in the text of the Constitution
must excite especial wonder, when it is considered how conscientiously
our fathers excluded from that text the kindred idea of property in
man. The saying of Mr. Madison cannot be too often repeated:--
“He thought it _wrong_ to admit in the Constitution the idea
that there could be property in men.”[227]
But is it less wrong to admit in the Constitution the idea of
Inequality of Rights founded on race or color? Surely the authors of
this proposition have acted inconsiderately and with little regard to
the spirit of the Fathers. Imagine it introduced into the Convention
which framed the Constitution. Not many words would have been used;
but evidently it would have found no place in that text, which, with
pious care, was to be guarded against degradation. And now mark the
change. After the lapse of generations, when our obligations have
increased with increasing light, at an epoch of history when mankind
are more than ever before sensitive to the claims of human rights,
and when among ourselves there is more than ever before a desire and
a duty to fulfil all the promises of the Declaration of Independence,
we are invited to make the Constitution disown the Declaration of
Independence, insult the conscience of mankind, and disregard all the
obligations pressing upon us. But this is a mild way of stating the
character of the attempt plainly apparent in the words. Its essential
uncleanness is not disclosed. Adopt this proposition, and you will
imitate those ancient birds who defiled the feast that was spread. The
Constitution is the feast spread for our country, and you hurry to drop
into its text a political obscenity, and to diffuse over its page a
disgusting ordure,--
“Defiling all you find,
And parting leave a loathsome stench behind.”[228]
Only by plain language can this attempt be adequately exposed. Only
in this way can it be seen in its true character. Only in this way
can you be moved to shrink from it with proper repugnance. In this
spirit the religious press of the country is beginning to speak. The
Boston “Recorder,” the most venerable of all the religious papers of
New England, and perhaps of the whole country, which for more than
half a century has been a weekly teacher at uncounted firesides, thus
solemnly appeals to the conscience of patriots and of statesmen:--
“The proposed Amendment to the Constitution of the United
States, which passed the House of Representatives last week by
a vote of 120 to 46, will, if it should become the fundamental
law of the land, _inflict upon our free institutions greater
infamy than anything contained in our written Constitution_.
There are things there which were sufficiently disgraceful in
their intent and purpose. That the slave-trade should not be
prohibited before 1808, that three fifths of the slaves should
be represented in Congress by the votes of their owners, that
fugitive slaves should be returned to their owners,--these were
scandalous provisions to which our noble fathers submitted
only because without them we could have no common national
existence. But they couched these offensive propositions
in terms that, on the cessation of Slavery, would have no
objectionable meaning. This event they anticipated much earlier
than it has actually occurred. And now that it is a fact, no
one wishes the clauses of the Constitution to which we have
alluded to be stricken out.
“But now it is proposed to ingraft upon this revered instrument
a principle implying that a State may decree that all men are
not born equal, and may disfranchise a majority of her citizens
and their sons and their sons’ sons forever! Good jurists have
declared that the Constitution, as it now stands, would forbid
any such State action, and that all constitutions and laws
disfranchising citizens because of their parentage, color,
race, or descent, are null and void.… We are not aware of any
attempt to refute this view with a shadow of success.
“And now it cannot be that we shall give up our vantage-ground,
_and stain the triumph_ bought with so much precious blood
with _a concession which might be turned to so base a use_.
“Let every patriot, to whom the good name of America is dear,
bestir himself. Let every Christian who believes that God is no
respecter of persons, let every father who would not leave to
his children a legacy of national discord and a birthright in a
nation yet to bleed in Helot conspiracies, let every statesman
who believes that even justice is the only sure foundation of
national tranquillity, arouse himself.”[229]
I have heard somewhere a strange apology for this amendment. It is said
that it is “punitive,” and that the idea of Inequality of Rights is to
be admitted into the Constitution for punishment, and not for sanction.
As well say that the term “three fifths of all other persons” in the
Constitution was “punitive.” It was no such thing. It was a compromise;
and such is the precise character of the present attempt, which, by its
very words, is a plain license to tyranny, in consideration that the
tyrants pay in political power. The primary element, standing out in
“darkness visible,” is the license; the secondary element is the pay.
Here is nothing less than a mighty house that shall be nameless, which
it is proposed to license constitutionally for a consideration. Even
if political power is curtailed, it is only as a consideration for the
license. It is a new sale of “indulgences,” on a larger scale than that
of Tetzel. The latter, returning from Rome into Germany, became vendor
of licenses for adultery, robbery, theft; but the outrage aroused
Martin Luther, and the Reformation began. As well say, that, since pay
was required, therefore the indulgences of Tetzel were “punitive.”
Thus far I have spoken of the attempt only as it appears in its words,
without analyzing it in detail.
* * * * *
2. One of its elementary parts and consequences is that _it sanctions
the acknowledged tyranny of taxation without representation_. A
whole race, constituting a considerable part of the people of the
United States, and embraced under the words of the preamble to the
Constitution, “We the people,” are left without representation in the
Government, but nevertheless held within the grasp of taxation, direct
and indirect, tariff and excise, State and National. Sir, this is
tyranny,--or else our fathers were wrong, when they protested against a
kindred injustice. The principle is fundamental. You cannot violate it
without again dishonoring the Fathers.
To the application of this principle there have been two replies:
first, that in its origin it was a claim of representation for
communities only, and not for individuals; and, secondly, that
in its nature it embraces women as well as men. And from these
two considerations it is argued that it cannot be invoked for the
protection of four million people whose only offence is a dark skin.
Even if it had been originally a claim for communities only, and
not for individuals, it is difficult to see how it can be rejected
as a rule in determining the rights of fellow-citizens counted by
millions. Our fathers, when they cried out that taxation without
representation is tyranny, were not more than two millions and a half.
Our fellow-citizens now renewing the same cry are more than four
millions, possessing the weight of numbers, if not of organization. But
it is a mistake to suppose that the original claim was for communities
only, and not for individuals. This is a question of history, to be
considered with the gravity of history, and as such I ask attention to
it.
In opening this debate, I carried you to that Provincial Court in
Massachusetts, where, in assailing Writs of Assistance, James Otis
first launched the thunderbolt, “Taxation without representation is
tyranny.” You remember how careful he was to insist that without
representation there could be no taxation of any kind, direct or
indirect, on land or on trade, and that the representation must be
substantial, real, and not merely imaginary, or, as it was expressed at
that time, “virtual.” In developing this principle, he announced the
equal rights of all, without distinction of color. On this ground he
stood, when he uttered those memorable words, which the whole country
adopted at once with patriotic frenzy, and which I insist you shall not
deny in our organic law.
But, to show more precisely the meaning of Otis, I let him be his own
interpreter. Again and again he asserts the equality of men. This was
his fundamental principle, which on an important occasion he thus
expressed: “The first simple principle is equality and the power of the
whole.”[230] Nor did he allow this to be limited in application by any
distinction of color. John Adams, who was present when the orator first
raised his great cry, says: “Nor were the poor negroes forgotten. Not
a Quaker in Philadelphia, or Mr. Jefferson, of Virginia, ever asserted
the rights of negroes in stronger terms.”[231] Otis, in another form,
assailed directly the distinction of color, saying: “Will short,
curled hair, like wool, instead of Christian hair, as ’tis called
by those whose hearts are as hard as the nether millstone, help the
argument?”[232] Such, then, were his premises,--the equal rights of
all, without distinction of color. From these his conclusion was easy:--
“The very act of taxing, exercised over those who are not
represented, appears to me to be depriving them of one of their
most essential rights as freemen, and, _if continued, seems
to be, in effect, an entire disfranchisement of every civil
right_. For what one civil right is worth a rush, after a man’s
property is subject to be taken from him at pleasure, without
his consent? If a man is not _his own assessor_, in person or
by deputy, his liberty is gone, or lays entirely at the mercy
of others.”[233]
Stronger words for universal suffrage could not be employed. His
argument is, that, if men are taxed without being represented, they are
deprived of essential rights, and the continuance of this deprivation
despoils them of every civil right,--thus making the latter depend
upon the right of suffrage, which by curious neologism is known as
political instead of civil. Then, giving point to his argument, the
patriot insists, that, in determining taxation, “a man must be his
own _assessor_, in person or by deputy,” without which his liberty is
entirely at the mercy of others. Here, again, in different form, is the
original thunderbolt; and the claim is made not merely for communities,
but for “a man.”
Such a principle naturally encountered opposition at that time, even as
now in this Chamber; but Otis was ready at all points. To the argument,
that Manchester, Birmingham, and Sheffield, like America, returned no
members to Parliament, he flashed forth in reply:--
“If they are not represented, they ought to be. _Every man of a
sound mind should have his vote._”