CHAPTER XXXV.

FLOGGING NOT LAWFUL.

It is next to idle, at the present day, merely to denounce an iniquity.

Be ours, then, a different task.

If there are any three things opposed to the genius of the American

Constitution, they are these: irresponsibility in a judge, unlimited

discretionary authority in an executive, and the union of an

irresponsible judge and an unlimited executive in one person.

Yet by virtue of an enactment of Congress, all the Commodores in the

American navy are obnoxious to these three charges, so far as concerns

the punishment of the sailor for alleged misdemeanors not particularly

set forth in the Articles of War.

Here is the enactment in question.

XXXII. _Of the Articles of War_.—“All crimes committed by persons

belonging to the Navy, which are not specified in the foregoing

articles, shall be punished according to the laws and customs in such

cases at sea.”

This is the article that, above all others, puts the scourge into the

hands of the Captain, calls him to no account for its exercise, and

furnishes him with an ample warrant for inflictions of cruelty upon the

common sailor, hardly credible to landsmen.

By this article the Captain is made a legislator, as well as a judge

and an executive. So far as it goes, it absolutely leaves to his

discretion to decide what things shall be considered crimes, and what

shall be the penalty; whether an accused person has been guilty of

actions by him declared to be crimes; and how, when, and where the

penalty shall be inflicted.

In the American Navy there is an everlasting suspension of the Habeas

Corpus. Upon the bare allegation of misconduct there is no law to

restrain the Captain from imprisoning a seaman, and keeping him

confined at his pleasure. While I was in the Neversink, the Captain of

an American sloop of war, from undoubted motives of personal pique,

kept a seaman confined in the brig for upward of a month.

Certainly the necessities of navies warrant a code for their government

more stringent than the law that governs the land; but that code should

conform to the spirit of the political institutions of the country that

ordains it. It should not convert into slaves some of the citizens of a

nation of free-men. Such objections cannot be urged against the laws of

the Russian navy (not essentially different from our own), because the

laws of that navy, creating the absolute one-man power in the Captain,

and vesting in him the authority to scourge, conform in spirit to the

territorial laws of Russia, which is ruled by an autocrat, and whose

courts inflict the _knout_ upon the subjects of the land. But with us

it is different. Our institutions claim to be based upon broad

principles of political liberty and equality. Whereas, it would hardly

affect one iota the condition on shipboard of an American

man-of-war’s-man, were he transferred to the Russian navy and made a

subject of the Czar.

As a sailor, he shares none of our civil immunities; the law of our

soil in no respect accompanies the national floating timbers grown

thereon, and to which he clings as his home. For him our Revolution was

in vain; to him our Declaration of Independence is a lie.

It is not sufficiently borne in mind, perhaps, that though the naval

code comes under the head of the martial law, yet, in time of peace,

and in the thousand questions arising between man and man on board

ship, this code, to a certain extent, may not improperly be deemed

municipal. With its crew of 800 or 1,000 men, a three-decker is a city

on the sea. But in most of these matters between man and man, the

Captain instead of being a magistrate, dispensing what the law

promulgates, is an absolute ruler, making and unmaking law as he

pleases.

It will be seen that the XXth of the Articles of War provides, that if

any person in the Navy negligently perform the duties assigned him, he

shall suffer such punishment as a court-martial shall adjudge; but if

the offender be a private (common sailor) he may, at the discretion of

the Captain, be put in irons or flogged. It is needless to say, that in

cases where an officer commits a trivial violation of this law, a

court-martial is seldom or never called to sit upon his trial; but in

the sailor’s case, he is at once condemned to the lash. Thus, one set

of sea-citizens is exempted from a law that is hung in terror over

others. What would landsmen think, were the State of New York to pass a

law against some offence, affixing a fine as a penalty, and then add to

that law a section restricting its penal operation to mechanics and day

laborers, exempting all gentlemen with an income of one thousand

dollars? Yet thus, in the spirit of its practical operation, even thus,

stands a good part of the naval laws wherein naval flogging is

involved.

But a law should be “universal,” and include in its possible penal

operations the very judge himself who gives decisions upon it; nay, the

very judge who expounds it. Had Sir William Blackstone violated the

laws of England, he would have been brought before the bar over which

he had presided, and would there have been tried, with the counsel for

the crown reading to him, perhaps, from a copy of his own

_Commentaries_. And should he have been found guilty, he would have

suffered like the meanest subject, “according to law.”

How is it in an American frigate? Let one example suffice. By the

Articles of War, and especially by Article I., an American Captain may,

and frequently does, inflict a severe and degrading punishment upon a

sailor, while he himself is for ever removed from the possibility of

undergoing the like disgrace; and, in all probability, from undergoing

any punishment whatever, even if guilty of the same thing—contention

with his equals, for instance—for which he punishes another. Yet both

sailor and captain are American citizens.

Now, in the language of Blackstone, again, there is a law, “coeval with

mankind, dictated by God himself, superior in obligation to any other,

and no human laws are of any validity if contrary to this.” That law is

the Law of Nature; among the three great principles of which Justinian

includes “that to every man should be rendered his due.” But we have

seen that the laws involving flogging in the Navy do _not_ render to

every man his due, since in some cases they indirectly exclude the

officers from any punishment whatever, and in all cases protect them

from the scourge, which is inflicted upon the sailor. Therefore,

according to Blackstone and Justinian, those laws have no binding

force; and every American man-of-war’s-man would be morally justified

in resisting the scourge to the uttermost; and, in so resisting, would

be religiously justified in what would be judicially styled “the act of

mutiny” itself.

If, then, these scourging laws be for any reason necessary, make them

binding upon all who of right come under their sway; and let us see an

honest Commodore, duly authorised by Congress, condemning to the lash a

transgressing Captain by the side of a transgressing sailor. And if the

Commodore himself prove a transgressor, let us see one of his brother

Commodores take up the lash against _him_, even as the boatswain’s

mates, the navy executioners, are often called upon to scourge each

other.

Or will you say that a navy officer is a man, but that an American-born

citizen, whose grandsire may have ennobled him by pouring out his blood

at Bunker Hill—will you say that, by entering the service of his

country as a common seaman, and standing ready to fight her foes, he

thereby loses his manhood at the very time he most asserts it? Will you

say that, by so doing, he degrades himself to the liability of the

scourge, but if he tarries ashore in time of danger, he is safe from

that indignity? All our linked states, all four continents of mankind,

unite in denouncing such a thought.

We plant the question, then, on the topmost argument of all.

Irrespective of incidental considerations, we assert that flogging in

the navy is opposed to the essential dignity, of man, which no

legislator has a right to violate; that it is oppressive, and glaringly

unequal in its operations; that it is utterly repugnant to the spirit

of our democratic institutions; indeed, that it involves a lingering

trait of the worst times of a barbarous feudal aristocracy; in a word,

we denounce it as religiously, morally, and immutably _wrong_.

No matter, then, what may be the consequences of its abolition; no

matter if we have to dismantle our fleets, and our unprotected commerce

should fall a prey to the spoiler, the awful admonitions of justice and

humanity demand that abolition without procrastination; in a voice that

is not to be mistaken, demand that abolition today. It is not a

dollar-and-cent question of expediency; it is a matter of _right and

wrong_. And if any man can lay his hand on his heart, and solemnly say

that this scourging is right, let that man but once feel the lash on

his own back, and in his agony you will hear the apostate call the

seventh heavens to witness that it is _wrong_. And, in the name of

immortal manhood, would to God that every man who upholds this thing

were scourged at the gangway till he recanted.

White Jacket; Or, The World on a Man-of-War · 第 35 / 93 章