Before we can determine whether such be the origin of civil liberty, we

must first ascertain the character of that natural liberty out of which

it is supposed to be reserved. What, then, is natural liberty? What is

the nature of the material out of which our civil liberty is supposed to

be fashioned by the art of the political sculptor? It is thus defined by

Locke: "To understand political power right, and derive it from its

original, we must consider what state all men are naturally in; and that

is a state of perfect freedom to order their actions and dispose of

their possessions and persons as they think fit, _within the bounds of

the law of nature_, without asking leave or depending upon the will of

any other man."[136] In perfect accordance with this definition,

Blackstone says: "This natural liberty consists in a power of acting as

one thinks fit, without any restraint or control, unless by the laws of

nature, being a right inherent in us by birth, and one of the gifts of

God to man at his creation, when he endowed him with the faculty of

free-will." Such, according to Locke and Blackstone, is that natural

liberty, which is limited and abridged, as they suppose, when we enter

into the bonds of civil society.

Now mark its features: it is the gift of God to man at his creation; the

very top and flower of his existence; that by which he is distinguished

from the lower animals and raised to the rank of moral and accountable

beings. Shall we sacrifice this divine gift, then, in order to secure

the blessings of civil society? Shall we abridge or mutilate the image

of God, stamped upon the soul at its creation, by which we are capable

of knowing and obeying his law, in order to secure the aid and

protection of man? Shall we barter away any portion of this our glorious

birthright for any poor boon of man's devising? Yes, we are told--and

why? Because, says Blackstone, "Legal obedience and conformity is

infinitely more valuable than _the wild and savage liberty which is

sacrificed to obtain it_."

But how is this? _Now_ this natural liberty is a thing of light, and

_now_ it is a power of darkness. Now it is the gift of God, that moves

within a sphere of light, and breathes an atmosphere of love; and anon,

it is a wild and savage thing that carries terror in its train. It would

be an angel of light, if it were not a power of darkness; and it would

be a power of darkness, if it were not an angel of light. But as it is,

it is both by turns, and neither long, but runs through its Protean

changes, according to the exigencies of the flowing discourse of the

learned author. Surely such inconsistency, so glaring and so portentous,

and all exhibited on one and the same page, is no evidence that the

genius of the great commentator was as steady and profound as it was

elegant and classical.

The source of this vacillation is obvious. With Locke, he defines

natural liberty to be a power of acting as one thinks fit, _within the

limits prescribed by the law of nature_; but he soon loses sight of

this all-important limitation, from which natural liberty derives its

form and beauty. Hence it becomes in his mind a power to act as one

pleases, without the restraint or control of any law whatever, either

human or divine. The sovereign will and pleasure of the individual

becomes the only rule of conduct, and lawless anarchy the condition

which it legitimates. Thus, having loosed the bonds and marred the

beauty of natural liberty, he was prepared to see it, now become so

"wild and savage," offered up as a sacrifice on the altar of civil

liberty.

This, too, was the great fundamental error of Hobbes. What Blackstone

thus did through inadvertency, was knowingly and designedly done by the

philosopher of Malmesbury. In a state of nature, says he, all men have a

right to do as they please. Each individual may set up a right to all

things, and consequently to the same things. In other words, in such a

state there is no law, exept that of force. The strong arm of power is

the supreme arbiter of all things. Robbery and outrage and murder are as

lawful as their opposites. That is to say, there is no such thing as a

law of nature; and consequently all things are, in a state of nature,

equally allowable. Thus it was that Hobbes delighted to legitimate the

horrors of a state of nature, as it is called, in order that mankind

might, without a feeling of indignation or regret, see the wild and

ferocious liberty of such a state sacrificed to despotic power. Thus it

was that he endeavoured to recommend the "Leviathan," by contrasting it

with the huger monster called Natural Liberty.

This view of the state of nature, by which all law and the great

Fountain of all law are shut out of the world, was perfectly agreeable

to the atheistical philosophy of Hobbes. From one who had extinguished

the light of nature, and given dominion to the powers of darkness, no

better could have been expected; but is it not deplorable that a

Christian jurist should, even for a moment, have forgotten the great

central light of his own system, and drawn his arguments from such an

abyss of darkness?

Blackstone has thus lost sight of truth, not only in regard to his

general propositions, but also in regard to particular instances. "The

law," says he, "which restrains a man from doing mischief to his

fellow-citizens diminishes the natural liberty of mankind." Now, is this

true? The doing of mischief is contrary to the law of nature, and hence,

according to the definition of Blackstone himself, the perpetration of

it is not an exercise of any natural right. As no man possesses a

natural right to do mischief, so the law which forbids it does not

diminish the natural liberty of mankind. The law which forbids mischief

is a restraint not upon the _natural liberty_, but upon the _natural

tyranny_, of man.

Blackstone is by no means alone in the error to which we have alluded.

By one of the clearest thinkers and most beautiful writers of the

present age,[137] it is argued, "that as government implies restraint,

it is evident we give up a certain portion of our liberty by entering

into it." This argument would be valid, no doubt, if there were nothing

in the world beside liberty to be restrained; but the evil passions of

men, from which proceed so many frightful tyrannies and wrongs, are not

to be identified with their rights or liberties. As government implies

restraint, it is evident that something is restrained when we enter into

it; but it does not follow that this something must be our natural

liberty. The argument in question proceeds on the notion that government

can restrain nothing, unless it restrain the natural liberty of mankind;

whereas, we have seen, the law which forbids the perpetration of

mischief, or any other wrong, is a restriction, not upon the _liberty_,

but upon the _tyranny_, of the human will. It sets a bound and limit,

not to any right conferred on us by the Author of nature, but upon the

evil thoughts and deeds of which we are the sole and exclusive

originators. Such a law, indeed, so far from restraining the natural

liberty of man, recognizes his natural rights, and secures his freedom,

by protecting the weak against the injustice and oppression of the

strong. The way in which these authors show that natural liberty is, and

of right ought to be, abridged by the laws of society, is, by

identifying this natural freedom, not with a power to act as God wills,

but with a power in conformity with our own sovereign will and pleasure.

The same thing is expressly done by Paley.[138] "To do what we will,"

says he, "is natural liberty." Starting from this definition, it is no

wonder that he should have supposed that natural liberty is restrained

by civil government. In like manner, Burke first says, "That the effect

of liberty to individuals is, _that they may do what they please_;" and

then concludes, that in order to "secure some liberty," we make "a

surrender in trust of the whole of it."[139] Thus the natural rights of

mankind are first caricatured, and then sacrificed.

If there be no God, if there be no difference between right and wrong,

if there be no moral law in the universe, then indeed would men possess

a natural right to do mischief or to act as they please. Then indeed

should we be fettered by no law in a state of nature, and liberty

therein would be coextensive with power. Right would give place to

might, and the least restraint, even from the best laws, would impair

our natural freedom. But we subscribe to no such philosophy. That

learned authors, that distinguished jurists, that celebrated

philosophers, that pious divines, should thus deliberately include the

enjoyment of our natural rights and the indulgence of our evil passions

in one and the same definition of liberty, is, it seems to us, matter of

the most profound astonishment and regret. It is to confound the source

of all tyranny with the fountain of all freedom. It is to put darkness

for light, and light for darkness. And it is to inflame the minds of men

with the idea that they are struggling and contending for liberty, when,

in reality, they may be only struggling and contending for the

gratification of their malignant passions. Such an offense against all

clear thinking, such an outrage against all sound political ethics,

becomes the more amazing when we reflect on the greatness of the authors

by whom it is committed, and the stupendous magnitude of the interests

involved in their discussions.

Should we, then, exhibit the fundamental law of society, and the natural

liberty of mankind, as antagonistic principles? Is not this the way to

prepare the human mind, at all times so passionately, not to say so

madly, fond of freedom, for a repetition of those tremendous conflicts

and struggles beneath which the foundations of society have so often

trembled, and some of its best institutions been laid in the dust? In

one word, is it not high time to raise the inquiry, Whether there be, in

reality, any such opposition as is usually supposed to exist between the

law of the land and the natural rights of mankind? Whether such

opposition be real or imaginary? Whether it exists in the nature of

things, or only in the imagination of political theorists?

§ III. _No good law ever limits or abridges the natural liberty of

mankind_

By the two great leaders of opposite schools, Locke and Burke, it is

contended that when we enter into society the natural rights of

self-defense is surrendered to the government. If any natural right,

then, be limited or abridged by the laws of society, we may suppose the

right of self-defense to be so; for this is the instance which is always

selected to illustrate and confirm the reality of such a surrender of

our natural liberty. It has, indeed, become a sort of maxim, that when

we put on the bonds of civil society, we give up the natural right of

self-defense.

But what does this maxim mean? Does it mean that we transfer the right

to repel force by force? If so, the proposition is not true; for this

right is as fully possessed by every individual after he has entered

into society as it could have been in a state of nature. If he is

assailed, or threatened with immediate personal danger, the law of the

land does not require him to wait upon the strong but slow arm of

government for protection. On the contrary, it permits him to protect

himself, to repel force by force, in so far as this may be necessary to

guard against injury to himself; and the law of nature allows no more.

Indeed, if there be any difference, the law of the land allows a man to

go further in the defense of self than he is permitted to go by the law

of God. Hence, in this sense, the maxim under consideration is not true;

and no man's natural liberty is abridged by the State.

Does this maxim mean, then, that in a state of nature every man has a

right to redress his own wrongs by the _subsequent_ punishment of the

offender, which right the citizen has transferred to the government? It

is clear that this must be the meaning, if it have any correct meaning

at all. But neither in this sense is the maxim or proposition true. The

right to punish an offender must rest upon the one or the other of two

grounds: either upon the ground that the offender deserves punishment,

or that his punishment is necessary to prevent similar offenses. Now,

upon neither of these grounds has any man, even in a state of nature,

the right to punish an offense committed against himself.

First, he has no right to punish such an offense on the ground that it

deserves punishment. No man has, or ever had, the right to wield the

awful attribute of retributive justice; that is, to inflict so much pain

for so much guilt or moral turpitude. This is the prerogative of God

alone. To his eye, all secrets are known, and all degrees of guilt

perfectly apparent; and to him alone belongs the vengeance which is due

for moral ill-desert. His law extends over the state of nature as well

as over the state of civil society, and calls all men to account for

their evil deeds. It is evident that, in so far as the intrinsic demerit

of actions is concerned, it makes no difference whether they be punished

here or hereafter. And beside, if the individual had possessed such a

right in a state of nature, he has not transferred it to society; for

society neither has nor claims any such right. Blackstone but utters the

voice of the law when he says: "The end or final cause of human

punishment is not by way of atonement or expiation, for that must be

left to the just determination of the supreme Being, but a precaution

against future offenses of the same kind." The exercise of retributive

justice belongs exclusively to the infallible Ruler of the world, and

not to frail, erring man, who himself so greatly stands in need of

mercy. Hence, the right to punish a transgressor on the ground that such

punishment is deserved, has not been transferred from the individual to

civil society: first, because he had no such natural right to transfer;

and, secondly, because society possesses no such right.

In the second place, if we consider the other ground of punishment, it

will likewise appear that the right to punish never belonged to the

individual, and consequently could not have been transferred by him to

society. For, by the law of nature, the individual has no right to

punish an offense against himself _in order to prevent further offences

of the same kind_. If the object of human punishment be, as indeed it

is, to prevent the commission of crime, by holding up examples of terror

to evil-doers, then, it is evidently no more the natural right of the

party injured to redress the wrong, than it is the right of others. All

men are interested in the prevention of wrongs, and hence all men should

unite to redress them. All men are endowed by their Creator with a sense

of justice, in order to impel them to secure its claims, and throw the

shield of its protection around the weak and oppressed.

The prevention of wrong, then, is clearly the natural duty, and

consequently the natural right, of all men.

This duty should be discharged by others, rather than by the party

aggrieved. For it is contrary to the law of nature itself, as both Locke

and Burke agree, that any man should be "judge in his own case;" that

any man should, by an _ex post facto_ decision, determine the amount of

punishment due to his enemy, and proceed to inflict it upon him. Such a

course, indeed, so far from preventing offenses, would inevitably

promote them; instead of redressing injuries, would only add wrong to

wrong; and instead of introducing order, would only make confusion worse

confounded, and turn the moral world quite upside down.

On no ground, then, upon which the right to punish may be conceived to

rest, does it appear that it was ever possessed, or could ever have been

possessed, by the individual. And if the individual never possessed such

a right, it is clear that he has never transferred it to society. Hence,

this view of the origin of government, however plausible at first sight,

or however generally received, has no real foundation in the nature of

things. It is purely a creature of the imagination of theorists; one of

the phantoms of that manifold, monstrous, phantom deity called Liberty,

which has been so often invoked by the _pseudo_ philanthropists and

reckless reformers of the present day to subvert not only the law of

capital punishment, but also other institutions and laws which have

received the sanction of both God and man.

The simple truth is, that we are all bound by the law of nature and the

law of God to love our neighbor as ourselves. Hence it is the duty of

every man, in a state of nature, to do all in his power to protect the

rights and promote the interests of his fellow-men. It is the duty of

all men to consult together, and concert measures for the general good.

Right here it is, then, that the law of man, the constitution of civil

society, comes into contact with the law of God and rests upon it. Thus,

civil society arises, not from a surrender of individual rights, but

from a right originally possessed by all; nay, from a solemn duty

originally imposed upon all by God himself--a duty which must be

performed, whether the individual gives his consent or not. The very law

of nature itself requires, as we have seen, not only the punishment of

the offender, but also that he be punished acccording to a

pre-established law, and by the decision of an impartial tribunal. And

in the enactment of such law, as well as in the administration, the

collective wisdom of society, or its agents, moves in obedience to the

law of God, and not in pursuance of rights derived from the individual.

§ IV. _The distinction between rights and liberty._

In the foregoing discussion we have, in conformity to the custom of

others, used the terms _rights_ and _liberty_ as words of precisely the

same import. But, instead of being convertible terms, there seems to be

a very clear difference in their signification. If a man be taken, for

example, and without cause thrown into prison, this deprives him of his

_liberty_, but not of his _right_, to go where he pleases. The right

still exists; and his not being allowed to enjoy this right, is

precisely what constitutes the oppression in the case supposed. If there

were no right still subsisting, then there would be no oppression.

Hence, as the _right_ exists, while the _liberty_ is extinguished, it is

evident they are distinct from each other. The liberty of a man in such

a case, as in all others, would consist in an opportunity to enjoy his

right, or in a state in which it might be enjoyed if he so pleased.

This distinction between rights and liberty is all-important to a clear

and satisfactory discussion of the doctrine of human freedom. The great

champions of that freedom, from a Locke down to a Hall, firmly and

passionately grasping the natural rights of man, and confounding these

with his liberty, have looked upon society as the restrainer, and not as

the author, of that liberty. On the other hand, the great advocates of

despotic power, from a Hobbes down to a Whewell, seeing that there can

be no genuine liberty--that is, no secure enjoyment of one's rights--in

a state of nature, have ascribed, not only our liberty, but all our

existing rights also, to the State.

But the error of Locke is a noble and generous sentiment when compared

with the odious dogma of Hobbes and Whewell. These learned authors

contend that we derive all our existing rights from society. Do we,

then, live and move and breathe and think and worship God only by rights

derived from the State? No, certainly. We have these rights from a

higher source. God gave them, and all the powers of earth combined

cannot take them away. But as for our liberty, this we freely own is,

for the most part, due to the sacred bonds of civil society. Let us

render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, and unto God the things

that are God's.

§ V. _The relation between the state of nature and of civil society._

Herein, then, consists the true relation between the _natural_ and the

_social_ states. Civil society does not abridge our natural rights, but

secures and protects them. She does not assume our right of

self-defense,--she simply discharges the duty imposed by God to defend

us. The original right is in those who compose the body politic, and not

in any individual. Hence, civil society does not impair our natural

liberty, as actually existing in a state of nature, or as it might

therein exist; for, in such a state, there would be no real liberty, no

real enjoyment of natural rights.

Mr. Locke, as we have seen, defines the state of nature to be one of

"perfect freedom." Why, then, should we leave it? "If man, in the state

of nature, be so free," says he, "why will he part with his freedom? To

which it is obvious to answer," he continues, "that though, in the state

of nature, he hath such a right, _yet the enjoyment of it is very

uncertain_, and constantly exposed to the invasion of others; for all

being kings as much as he, every man his equal, and the greater part not

strict observers of equity and justice, the enjoyment of the property he

has in this state is very unsafe, very insecure. This makes him willing

to quit a condition which, _however free, is full of fears and continual

dangers_; and it is not without reason that he seeks out, and is willing

to join in society with, others who are already united, or have a mind

to unite, _for the mutual preservation of their lives, liberties, and

estates_, which I call by the general name _property_."[140] What! can

that be a state of perfect freedom which is subject to fears and

perpetual dangers? In one word, can a reign of terror be the reign of

liberty? It is evident, we think, that Locke has been betrayed into no

little inaccuracy and confusion of thought from not having distinguished

between rights and liberty.

The truth seems to be that, in a state of nature, we would possess

rights, but we could not enjoy them. That is to say, notwithstanding all

our rights, we should be destitute of freedom or liberty. Society

interposes the strong arm of the law to protect our rights, to secure

us in the enjoyment of them. She delivers us from the alarms, the

dangers, and the violence of the natural state. Hence, under God, she is

the mother of our peace and joy, by whose sovereign rule anarchy is

abolished and liberty established. Liberty and social law can never be

dissevered. Liberty, robed in law, and radiant with love, is one of the

best gifts of God to man. But liberty, despoiled of law, is a wild,

dark, fierce spirit of licentiousness, which tends "to uproar the

universal peace."

Hence it is a frightful error to regard the civil state or government as

antagonistic to the natural liberty of mankind; for this is, indeed, the

author of the very liberty we enjoy. Good government it is that

restrains the elements of tyranny and oppression, and introduces liberty

into the world. Good government it is that shuts out the reign of

anarchy, and secures the dominion of equity and goodness. He who would

spurn the restraints of law, then, by which pride, and envy, and hatred,

and malice, ambition, and revenge are kept within the sacred bounds of

eternal justice,--he, we say, is not the friend of human liberty. He

would open the flood-gates of tyranny and oppression; he would mar the

harmony and extinguish the light of the world. Let no such man be

trusted.

If the foregoing remarks be just, it would follow that the state of

nature, as it is called, would be one of the most unnatural states in

the world. We may conceive it to exist, for the sake of illustration or

argument; but if it should actually exist, it would be at war with the

law of nature itself. For this requires, as we have seen, that men

should unite together, and frame such laws as the general good demands.

Not only the law, but the very necessities of nature, enjoin the

institution of civil government. God himself has thus laid the

foundations of civil society deep in the nature of man. It is an

ordinance of Heaven, which no human decree can reverse or annul. It is

not a thing of compacts, bound together by promises and paper, but is

itself a law of nature as irreversible as any other. Compacts may give

it one form or another, but in one form or another it must exist. It is

no accidental or artificial thing, which may be made or unmade, which

may be set up or pulled down, at the mere will and pleasure of man. It

is a decree of God; the spontaneous and irresistible working of that

nature, which, in all climates, through all ages, and under all

circumstances, manifests itself in social organizations.

§ VI. _Inherent and inalienable rights._

Much has been said about inherent and inalienable rights, which is

either unintelligible or rests upon no solid foundation. "The

inalienable rights of men" is a phrase often brandished by certain

reformers, who aim to bring about "the immediate abolition of slavery."

Yet, in the light of the foregoing discussion, it may be clearly shown

that the doctrine of inalienable rights, if properly handled, will not

touch the institution of slavery.

An inalienable right is either one which the possessor of it himself

cannot alienate or transfer, or it is one which society has not the

power to take from him. According to the import of the terms, the first

would seem to be what is meant by an inalienable right; but in this

sense it is not pretended that the right to either life or liberty has

been transferred to society or alienated by the individual. And if, as

we have endeavored to show, the right, or power, or authority of society

is not derived from a transfer of individual rights, then it is clear

that neither the right to life nor liberty is transferred to society.

That is, if no rights are transferred, than these particular rights are

still untransferred, and, if you please, untransferable. Be it conceded,

then, that the individual has never transferred his right to life or

liberty to society.

But it is not in the above sense that the abolitionist uses the

expression, _inalienable rights_. According to his view, an inalienable

right is one of which society itself cannot, without doing wrong,

deprive the individual, or deny the enjoyment of it to him. This is

evidently his meaning; for he complains of the injustice of society, or

civil government, in depriving a certain portion of its subjects of

civil freedom, and consigning them to a state of servitude. "Such an

act," says he, "is wrong, because it is a violation of the inalienable

rights of all men." But let us see if his complaint be just or well

founded.

It is pretended by no one that society has the right to deprive any

subject of either life or liberty, _without good and sufficient cause or

reason_. On the contrary, it is on all hands agreed that it is only for

good and sufficient reasons that society can deprive any portion of its

subjects of either life or liberty. Nor can it be denied, on the other

side, that a man may be deprived of either, or both, by a preordained

law, in case there be a good and sufficient reason for the enactment of

such law. For the crime of murder, the law of the land deprives the

criminal of life: _à fortiori_, might it deprive him of liberty. In the

infliction of such a penalty, the law seeks, as we have seen, not to

deal out so much pain for so much guilt, nor even to deal out pain for

guilt at all, but simply to protect the members of society, and _secure

the general good_. The general good is the sole and sufficient

consideration which justifies the State in taking either the life or the

liberty of its subjects.

Hence, if we would determine in any case whether society is justified in

depriving any of its members of civil freedom by law, we must first

ascertain whether the general good demands the enactment of such a law.

If it does, then such a law is just and good--as perfectly just and good

as any other law which, for the same reason or on the same ground, takes

away the life or liberty of its subjects. All this talk about the

inalienable rights of men may have a very admirable meaning, if one will

only be at the pains to search it out; but is it not evident that, when

searched to the bottom, it has just nothing at all to do with the great

question of slavery? But more of this hereafter.[141]

This great problem, as we have seen, is to be decided, not by an appeal

to the inalienable rights of men, but simply and solely by a reference

to the general good. It is to be decided, not by the aid of abstractions

alone; a little good sense and _practical sagacity_ should be allowed to

assist in its determination. There are inalienable rights, we

admit--inalienable both because the individual cannot transfer them, and

because society can never rightfully deprive any man of their enjoyment.

But life and liberty are _not_ "among these." There are inalienable

rights, we admit, but then such abstractions are the edge-tools of

political science, with which it is dangerous for either men or children

to play. They may inflict deep wounds on the cause of humanity; they can

throw no light on the great problem of slavery.

One thing seems to be clear and fixed; and that is, that the rights of

the individual are subordinate to those of the community. _An

inalienable right is a right coupled with a duty; a duty with which no

other obligation can interfere._ But, as we have seen, it is the _duty_,

and consequently, the _right_, of society to make such laws as the

general good demands. This inalienable right is conferred, and its

exercise enjoined, by the Creator and Governor of the universe. All

individual rights are subordinate to this inherent, universal, and

inalienable right. It should be observed, however, that in the exercise

of this paramount right, this supreme authority, no society possesses

the power to contravene the principles of justice. In other words, it

should be observed that no unjust law can ever promote the public good.

Every law, then, which is not unjust, and which the public good demands,

should be enacted by society.

But we have already seen and shall still more fully see, that the law

which ordains slavery is not unjust in itself, or, in other words, that

it interferes with none of the inalienable rights of man. Hence, if it

be shown that the public good, and especially the good of the slave,

demands such a law, then the question of slavery will be settled. We

purpose to show this before we have done with the present discussion.

And if, in the prosecution of this inquiry, we should be so fortunate as

to throw only one steady ray of light on the great question of slavery,

by which the very depths of society have been so fearfully convulsed, we

shall be more than rewarded for all the labor which, with no little

solicitude, we have felt constrained to bestow upon an attempt at its

solution.

§ VII. _Conclusion of the first chapter._

In conclusion, we shall merely add that if the foregoing remarks be

just, it follows that the great problem of political philosophy is not

precisely such as it is often taken to be by statesmen and historians.

This problem, according to Mackintosh and Macaulay, consists in finding

such an adjustment of the antagonistic principles of public order and

private liberty, that neither shall overthrow or subvert the other, but

each be confined within its own appropriate limits. Whereas, if we are

not mistaken, these are not _antagonistic_, but _co-ordinate_,

principles. The very law which institutes public order is that which

introduces private liberty, since no secure enjoyment of one's rights

can exist where public order is not maintained. And, on the other hand,

unless private liberty be introduced, public order cannot be

maintained, or at least such public order as should be established;

for, if there be not private liberty, if there be no secure enjoyment of

one's rights, then the highest and purest elements of our nature would

have to be extinguished, or else exist in perpetual conflict with the

surrounding despotism. As license is not liberty, so despotism is not

order, nor even friendly to that enlightened, wholesome order, by which

the good of the public and the individual are at the same time

introduced and secured. In other words, what is taken from the one of

these principles is not given to the other; on the contrary, every

additional element of strength and beauty which is imparted to the one

is an accession of strength and beauty to the other. Private liberty,

indeed, lives and moves and has its very being in the bosom of public

order. On the other hand, that public order alone which cherishes the

true liberty of the individual is strong in the approbation of God and

in the moral sentiments of mankind. All else is weakness, and death, and

decay.

The true problem, then, is, not how the conflicting claims of these two

principles may be adjusted, (for there is no conflict between them,) but

how a real public order, whose claims are identical with those of

private liberty, may be introduced and maintained. The practical

solution of this problem, for the heterogeneous population of the South

imperatively demands, as we shall endeavor to show, the institution of

slavery; and that without such an institution it would be impossible to

maintain either a sound public order or a decent private liberty. We

shall endeavor to show, that the very laws or institution which is

supposed by fanatical declaimers to shut out liberty from the Negro race

among us, really shuts out the most frightful _license_ and disorder

from society. In one word, we shall endeavor to show that in preaching

up liberty _to and for_ the slaves of the South, the abolitionist is

"casting pearls before swine," that can neither comprehend the nature,

nor enjoy the blessings, of the freedom which is so officiously thrust

upon them. And if the Negro race should be moved by their fiery appeals,

it would only be to rend and tear in pieces the fair fabric of American

liberty, which, with all its shortcomings and defects, is by far the

most beautiful ever yet conceived or constructed by the genius of man.

FOOTNOTES:

[136] Locke on Civil Government, chap. ii.

[137] Robert Hall.

[138] Political Philosophy, chap. v.

[139] Reflections on the Revolution in France.

[140] Locke on Civil Government, chap. ix.

[141] Chap. ii. § x.

CHAPTER II.

THE ARGUMENTS AND POSITIONS OF ABOLITIONISTS.

The first fallacy of the Abolitionist.--The second

fallacy of the Abolitionist.--The third fallacy of

the Abolitionist.--The fourth fallacy of the

Abolitionist.--The fifth fallacy of the

Abolitionist.--The sixth fallacy of the

Abolitionist.--The seventh fallacy of the

Abolitionist.--The eighth fallacy of the

Abolitionist.--The ninth fallacy of the

Abolitionist.--The tenth, eleventh, twelfth,

thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth

fallacies of the Abolitionist; or his seven

arguments against the right of a man to hold

property in his fellow-man.--The seventeenth

fallacy of the Abolitionist; or, the Argument from

the Declaration of Independence.

HAVING in the preceding chapter discussed and defined the nature of

civil liberty, as well as laid down some of the political conditions on

which its existence depends, we shall now proceed to examine the

question of slavery. In the prosecution of this inquiry, we shall, in

the first place, consider the arguments and positions of the advocates

of immediate abolition; and, in the second, point out the reasons and

grounds on which the institution of slavery is based and its justice

vindicated. The first branch of the investigation, or that relating to

the arguments and positions of the abolitionist, will occupy the

remainder of the present chapter.

It is insisted by abolitionists that the institution of slavery is, in

all cases and under all circumstances, morally wrong, or a violation of

the law of God. Such is precisely the ground assumed by the one side and

denied by the other.

Thus says Dr. Wayland: "I have wished to make it clear that slavery, or

the holding of men in bondage, and 'obliging them to labor for our

benefit, without their contract or consent,' is always and everywhere,

or, as you well express it, _semper et ubique_, a moral wrong, a

violation of the obligations under which we are created to our

fellow-men, and a transgression of the law of our Creator."

Dr. Fuller likewise: "The simple question is, Whether it _is

necessarily, and amid all circumstances, a crime to hold men in a

condition where they labor for another without their consent or

contract_? and in settling this matter all impertinences must be

retrenched."

In one word, Dr. Wayland insists that slavery is condemned by the law of

God, by the moral law of the universe. We purpose to examine the

arguments which he has advanced in favor of this position. We select his

arguments for examination, because, as a writer on moral and political

science, he stands so high in the northern portion of the Union. His

work on these subjects has indeed long since passed the fiftieth

thousand; a degree of success which, in his own estimation, authorizes

him to issue his letters on slavery over the signature of "THE AUTHOR OF

THE MORAL SCIENCE." But the very fact that his popularity is so great,

and that he is _the_ author of _the_ Moral Science, is a reason why his

arguments on a question of such magnitude should be subjected to a

severe analysis and searching scrutiny, in order that, under the

sanction of so imposing a name, no error may be propagated and no

mischief done.

Hence we shall hold Dr. Wayland amenable to all the laws of logic.

Especially shall we require him to adhere to the point he has undertaken

to discuss, and to retrench all irrelevancies. If, after having

subjected his arguments to such a process, it shall be found that every

position which is assumed on the subject is directly contradicted by

himself, we shall not make haste to introduce anarchy into the Southern

States, in order to make it answer to the anarchy in his views of civil

and political freedom. But whether this be the case or not, it is not

for us to determine; we shall simply proceed to examine, and permit the

impartial reader to decide for himself.

§ I. _The first fallacy of the abolitionist._

The abolitionists do not hold their passions in subjection to reason.

This is not merely the judgment of a Southern man: it is the opinion of

the more decent and respectable abolitionists themselves. Thus says Dr.

Channing, censuring the conduct of the abolitionists: "They have done

wrong, I believe; nor is their wrong to be winked at because done

fanatically or with good intentions; for how much mischief may be

wrought with good designs! They have fallen into the common error of

enthusiasts--that of exaggerating their object, of feeling as if no evil

existed but that which they opposed, and as if no guilt could be

compared with that of countenancing or upholding it."[142] In like

manner, Dr. Wayland says: "I unite with you and the lamented Dr Channing

in the opinion that the tone of the abolitionists at the North has been

frequently, I fear I must say generally, 'fierce, bitter, and abusive.'

The abolitionist press has, I believe, from the beginning, too commonly

indulged in _exaggerated statement_, in violent denunciation, and in

coarse and lacerating invective. At our late Missionary Convention in

Philadelphia, I heard many things from men who claim to be the exclusive

friends of the slave, which pained me more than I can express. It seemed

to me that the spirit which many of them manifested was very different

from the spirit of Christ. I also cheerfully bear testimony to the

general courtesy, the Christian urbanity, and the calmness under

provocation which, in a remarkable degree, characterized the conduct of

the members from the South."

In the flood of sophisms which the abolitionists usually pour out in

their explosions of passion, none is more common than what is

technically termed by logicians the _ignoratio elenchi_, or a mistaking

of the point in dispute. Nor is this fallacy peculiar to the more vulgar

sort of abolitionists. It glares from the pages of Dr. Wayland, no less

than from the writings of the most fierce, bitter, and vindictive of his

associates in the cause of abolitionism. Thus, in one of his letters to

Dr. Fuller, he says: "To present this subject in a simple light. Let us

suppose that your family and mine were neighbors. We, our wives and

children, are all human beings in the sense that I have described, and,

in consequence of that common nature, and by the will of our common

Creator, are subject to the law, _Thou shalt love thy neighbor as

thyself_. Suppose that I should set fire to your house, shoot you as you

came out of it, and seizing your wife and children, 'oblige them to

labor for my benefit without their contract or consent.' Suppose,

moreover, aware that I could not thus oblige them, unless they were

inferior in intellect to myself, I should forbid them to read, and thus

consign them to intellectual and moral imbecility. Suppose I should

measure out to them the knowledge of God on the same principle. Suppose

I should exercise this dominion over them and their children as long as

I lived, and then do all in my power to render it certain that my

children should exercise it after me. _The question before us I suppose

to be simply this: Would I, in so doing, act at variance with the

relations existing between us as creatures of God?_ Would I, in other

words, violate the supreme law of my Creator, Thou shalt love thy

neighbor as thyself? or that other, Whatsoever ye would that men should

do unto you, do ye even so unto them? I do not see how any intelligent

creature can give more than one answer to this question. Then I think

that every intelligent creature must affirm that do this is wrong, or,

in the other form of expression, that it is a great moral evil. Can we

conceive of any greater?"

It was surely very kind in Dr. Wayland to undertake, with so much pains,

to instruct us poor, benighted sons of the South in regard to the

difference between right and wrong. We would fain give him full credit

for all the kindly feeling he so freely professes for his "Southern

brethren;" but if he really thinks that the question, whether arson, and

murder, and cruelty are offenses against the "supreme law of the

Creator," is still open for discussion among us, then we beg leave to

inform him that he labors under a slight hallucination. If he had never

written a word, we should have known, perhaps, that it is wrong for a

man to set fire to his neighbor's house, and shoot him as he came out,

and reduce his wife and children to a state of ignorance, degradation,

and slavery. Nay, if we should find his house already burnt, and himself

already shot, we should hardly feel justified in treating his wife and

children in so cruel a manner. Not even if they were "guilty of a skin,"

or ever so degraded, should we deem ourselves justified in reducing them

to a state of servitude. This is NOT "the question before us." We are

quite satisfied on all such points. The precept, too, Thou shalt love

thy neighbor as thyself, was not altogether unknown in the Southern

States before his letters were written. A committee of very amiable

philanthropists came all the way from England, as the agents of some

abolition society there, and told us all that the law of God requires us

to love our neighbor as ourselves. In this benevolent work of

enlightenment they were, if we mistake not, several months in advance of

Dr. Wayland. We no longer need to be enlightened on such points. Being

sufficiently instructed, we admit that we should love our neighbor as

ourselves, and also that arson, murder, and so forth are violations of

this law. But we want to know whether, _semper et ubique_, the

institution of slavery is morally wrong. _This is the question_, and to

this we intend to hold the author.

§ II. _The second fallacy of the abolitionist._

Lest we should be suspected of misrepresentation, we shall state the

position of Dr. Wayland in his own words. In regard to the institution

of slavery, he says: "I do not see that it does not sanction the whole

system of the slave-trade. _If I have a right to a thing after I have

gotten it, I have a natural right to the means necessary for getting

it._ If this be so, I should be as much justified in sending a vessel to

Africa, murdering a part of the inhabitants of a village, and making

slaves of the rest, as I should be in hunting a herd of wild animals,

and either slaying them or subjecting them to the yoke."

Now mark the principle on which this most wonderful argument is based:

"If I have a right to a thing after I have gotten it, I have a natural

right to the means for getting it." That is to say, If I have the right

to a slave, now that I have got him, then I may rightfully use all

necessary means to reduce other men to slavery! I may shoot, burn, or

murder, if by this means I can only get slaves! Was any consequence ever

more wildly drawn? Was any _non sequitur_ ever more glaring?

Let us see how this argument would apply to other things. If I have a

right to a watch after I have gotten it, no matter how, then I have a

right to use the means necessary to get watches; I may steal them from

my neighbors! Or, if I have a right to a wife, provided I can get one,

then may I shoot my friend and marry his widow! Such is the argument of

one who seeks to enlighten the South and reform its institutions!

§ III. _The third fallacy of the abolitionist._

Nearly allied to the foregoing argument is that of the same author, in

which he deduces from the right of slavery, supposing it to exist,

another retinue of monstrous rights. "This right also," says Dr.

Wayland, referring to the right to hold slaves, "as I have shown,

involves the right to use all the means necessary to its establishment

and perpetuity, and, _of course, the right to crush his intellectual and

social nature_, and to stupefy his conscience, in so far as may be

necessary to enable me to enjoy this right with the least possible

peril." This is a compound fallacy, a many-sided error. But we will

consider only two phases of its absurdity.

In the first place, if the slaveholder should reason in this way, no one

would be more ready than the author himself to condemn his logic. If any

slaveholder should say, That because I have a right to my slaves,

therefore I have the right to crush the intellectual and moral nature of

men, in order to _establish_ and perpetuate their bondage,--he would be

among the first to cry out against such reasoning. This is evident from

the fact that he everywhere commends those slaveholders who deem it

their duty, as a return for the service of their slaves, to promote both

their temporal and eternal good. He everywhere insists that such is the

duty of slaveholders; and if such be their duty, they surely have no

right to violate it, by crushing the intellectual and moral nature of

those whom they are bound to elevate in the scale of being. If the

slaveholder, then, should adopt such an argument, his logic would be

very justly chargeable by Dr. Wayland with evidencing not so much the

existence of a clear head as of a bad heart.

In the second place, the above argument overlooks the fact that the

Southern statesman vindicates the institution of slavery on the ground

that it finds the Negro race already so degraded as to unfit it for a

state of freedom. He does not argue that it is right to seize those who,

by the possession of cultivated intellects and pure morals, are fit for

freedom, and debase them in order to prepare them for social bondage. He

does not imagine that it is ever right to shoot, burn, or corrupt, in

order to reduce any portion of the enlightened universe to a state of

servitude. He merely insists that those only who are already unfit for a

higher and nobler state than one of slavery, should be held by society

in such a state. This position, although it is so prominently set forth

by every advocate of slavery at the South, is almost invariably

overlooked by the Northern abolitionists. They talk, and reason, and

declaim, indeed, just as if we had caught a bevy of black angels as they

were winging their way to some island of purity and bliss here upon

earth, and reduced them from their heavenly state, by the most

diabolical cruelties and oppressions, to one of degradation, misery, and

servitude. They forget that Africa is not yet a paradise, and that

Southern servitude is not quite a hell. They forget--in the heat and

haste of their argument they forget--that the institution of slavery is

designed by the South not for the enlightened and the free, but only for

the ignorant and the debased. They need to be constantly reminded that

the institution of slavery is not the mother, but the daughter, of

ignorance and degradation. It is, indeed, the legitimate offspring of

that intellectual and moral debasement which, for so many thousand

years, has been accumulating and growing upon the African race. And if

the abolitionists at the North will only invent some method by which all

this frightful mass of degradation may be blotted out _at once_, then

will we most cheerfully consent to "the _immediate_ abolition of

slavery." On this point, however, we need not dwell, as we shall have

occasion to recur to it again when we come to consider the grounds and

reasons on which the institution of slavery is vindicated.

Having argued that the right of slavery, if it exist, implies the right

to shoot and murder an enlightened neighbor, with a view to reduce his

wife and children to a state of servitude, as well as to crush their

intellectual and moral nature in order to keep them in such a state, the

author adds, "If I err in making these inferences, I _err innocently_."

We have no doubt of the most perfect and entire innocence of the author.

But we would remind him that innocence, however perfect or _childlike_,

is not the only quality which a great reformer should possess.

§ IV. _The fourth fallacy of the abolitionist._

He is often guilty of a _petitio principii_, in taking it for granted

that the institution of slavery is an injury to the slave, which is the

very point in dispute. Thus says Dr. Wayland: "If it be asked when,

[slavery must be abandoned,] I ask again, when shall a man begin to

cease doing wrong? Is not the answer _immediately_? If a man is injuring

us, do we doubt as to the _time when_ he ought to cease? There is, then,

no doubt in respect to the time when we ought to cease inflicting injury

upon others."[143] Here it is assumed that slavery is an _injury_ to the

slave: but this is the very point which is denied, and which he should

have discussed. If a state of slavery be a greater injury to the slave

than a state of freedom would be, then are we willing to admit that it

should be abolished. But even in that case, not _immediately_, unless it

could be shown that the remedy would not be worse than the evil. If, on

the whole, the institution of slavery be a curse to the slave, we say

let it be abolished; not suddenly, however, as if by a whirlwind, but by

the counsels of wise, cautious, and far-seeing statesmen, who, capable

of looking both before and after, can comprehend in their plans of

reform all the diversified and highly-complicated interests of society.

"But it may be said," continues the author, "immediate abolition would

be the greatest possible injury to the slaves themselves. They are not

competent to self-government." True: this is the very thing which may

be, and which is, said by every Southern statesman in his advocacy of

the institution of slavery. Let us see the author's reply. "This is a

question of fact," says he, "_which is not in the province of moral

philosophy to decide_. It very likely may be so. So far as I know, the

facts are not sufficiently known to warrant a full opinion on the

subject. We will, therefore, suppose it to be the case, and ask, What is

the duty of masters _under these circumstances_?" In the discussion of

this question, the author comes to the conclusion that a master may hold

his slaves in bondage, provided his intentions be good, and with a view

to set them at liberty as soon as they shall be qualified for such a

state.

Moral philosophy, then, it seems, when it closes its eyes upon facts,

pronounces that slavery should be _immediately_ abolished; but if it

consider facts, which, instead of being denied, are admitted to be "very

likely" true, it decides against its immediate abolition! Or, rather,

moral philosophy looks at the fact that slavery is an _injury_, in order

to see that it should be forthwith abolished; but closes its eyes upon

the fact that its abolition may be a still greater injury, lest this

foregone conclusion should be called in question! Has moral philosophy,

then, an eye only for the facts which lie one side of the question it

proposes to decide?

Slavery is an _injury_, says Dr. Wayland, and therefore it should be

_immediately_ abolished. But its abolition would be a still greater

injury, replies the objector. This may be true, says Dr. Wayland: it is

highly probable; but then this question of injury is one of fact, which

it is not in the province of moral philosophy to decide! So much for the

consistency and even-handed justice of the author.

The position assumed by him, that questions of fact are not within the

province of moral philosophy, is one of so great importance that it

deserves a separate and distinct notice. Though seldom openly avowed,

yet is it so often tacitly assumed in the arguments and declamations of

abolitionists, that it shall be more fully considered in the following

section.

§ V. _The fifth fallacy of the abolitionist._

"Suppose that A has a right to use the body of B according to his--that

is, A's--will. Now if this be true, it is true universally; and hence, A

has the control over the body of B, and B has control over the body of

C, C of D, &c., and Z again over the body of A: that is, every separate

will has the right of control over some other body besides its own, and

has no right of control over its own body or intellect."[144] Now, if

men were cut out of pasteboard, all exactly alike, and distinguished

from each other only by the letters of the alphabet, then the reasoning

of the author would be excellent. But it happens that men are not cut

out of pasteboard. They are distinguished by differences of character,

by diverse habits and propensities, which render the reasonings of the

political philosopher rather more difficult than if he had merely to

deal with or arrange the letters of the alphabet. In one, for example,

the intellectual and moral part is almost wholly eclipsed by the brute;

while, in another, reason and religion have gained the ascendency, so as

to maintain a steady empire over the whole man. The first, as the author

himself admits, is incompetent to self-government, and should,

therefore, be held by the law of society in a state of servitude. But

does it follow that "if this be true, it is true _universally_?" Because

one man who can not govern himself may be governed by another, does it

follow that every man should be governed by others? Does it follow that

the one who has acquired and maintained the most perfect

self-government, should be subjected to the control of him who is wholly

incompetent to control himself? Yes, certainly, if the reasoning of Dr.

Wayland be true; but, according to every sound principle of political

ethics, the answer is, emphatically, No!

There is a difference between a Hottentot and a Newton. The first should

no more be condemned to astronomical calculations and discoveries, than

the last should be required to follow a plough. Such differences,

however, are overlooked by much of the reasoning of the abolitionist. In

regard to the question of fact, whether a man is really a man and not a

mere thing, he is profoundly versed. He can discourse most eloquently

upon this subject: he can prove, by most irrefragable arguments, that a

Hottentot is a man as well as a Newton. But as to the differences among

men, such nice distinctions are beneath his philosophy! It is true that

one may be sunk so low in the scale of being that civil freedom would be

a curse to him; yet, whether this be so or not, is a question of fact

which his philosophy does not stoop to decide. He merely wishes to know

what rights A can possibly have, either by the law of God or man, which

do not equally belong to B? And if A would feel it an injury to be

placed under the control of B, then, "there is no doubt" that it is

equally wrong to place B under the control of A? In plain English, if it

would be injurious and wrong to subject a Newton to the will of a

Hottentot, then it would be equally injurious and wrong to subject a

Hottentot to the will of a Newton! Such is the inevitable consequence of

his very profound political principles! Nay, such is the identical

consequence which he draws from his own principles!

If questions of fact are not within the province of the moral

philosopher, then the moral philosopher has no business with the science

of political ethics. This is not a pure, it is a mixed science. Facts

can no more be overlooked by the political architect, than magnitude can

be disregarded by the mathematician. The man, the political dreamer, who

pays no attention to them, may be fit, for aught we know, to frame a

government out of moonshine for the inhabitants of Utopia; but, if we

might choose our own teachers in political wisdom, we should decidedly

prefer those who have an eye for facts as well as abstractions. If we

may borrow a figure from Mr. Macaulay, the legislator who sees no

difference among men, but proposes the same kind of government for all,

acts about as wisely as a tailor who should measure the Apollo Belvidere

to cut clothes for all his customers--for the pigmies as well as for the

giants.

§ VI. _The sixth fallacy of the abolitionist._

It is asserted by Dr. Wayland that the institution of slavery is

condemned as "a violation of the plainest dictates of natural justice,"

by "the natural conscience of man, from at least as far back as the time

of Aristotle." If any one should infer that Aristotle himself condemned

the institution of slavery, he would be grossly deceived; for it is

known to every one who has read the Politics of Aristotle that he is,

under certain circumstances, a strenuous advocate of the natural

justice, as well as of the political wisdom, of slavery. Hence we shall

suppose that Dr. Wayland does not mean to include Aristotle in his broad

assertion, but only those who came after him. Even in this sense, or to

this extent, his positive assertion is so diametrically opposed to the

plainest facts of history, that it is difficult to conceive how he could

have persuaded himself of its truth. It is certain that, on other

occasions, he was perfectly aware of the fact that the natural

conscience of man, from the time of Aristotle down to that of the

Christian era, was in favor of the institution of slavery; for as often

as it has served his purpose to assert this fact, he has not hesitated

to do so. Thus, "the universal existence of slavery at the time of

Christ," says he, "took its origin from the moral darkness of the age.

The immortality of the soul was unknown. Out of the Hebrew nation not a

man on earth had any true conception of the character of the Deity or of

our relations and obligations to him. The law of universal love to man

had never been heard of."[145] No wonder he here argues that _slavery

received the universal sanction of the heathen world_, since so great

was the moral darkness in which they were involved. This darkness was so

great, if we may believe the author, that the men of one nation esteemed

those of another "as by nature foes, whom they had a right" not only "to

subdue or enslave," but also to murder "whenever and in what manner

soever they were able."[146] The sweeping assertion, that such was the

moral darkness of the heathen world, is wide of the truth; for, at the

time of Christ, no civilized nation "esteemed it right to murder or

enslave, whenever and in what manner soever they were able," the people

of other nations. There were some ideas of natural justice, even then,

among men; and if there were not, why does Dr. Wayland appeal to their

ideas of natural justice as one argument against slavery? If the heathen

world "esteemed it right" to make slaves, how can it be said that its

conscience condemned slavery? Is it not evident that Dr. Wayland is

capable of asserting either the one thing or its opposite, just as it

may happen to serve the purpose of his anti-slavery argument? Whether

facts lie within the province of moral philosophy or not, it is certain,

we think, that the moral philosopher who may be pleased to set facts at

naught has no right to substitute fictions in their stead.

§ VII. _The seventh fallacy of the abolitionist._

"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," is the rule of action which,

in the estimation of abolitionists, should at once and forever decide

every good man against the institution of slavery. But when we consider

the stupendous interests involved in the question, and especially those

of an intellectual and moral nature, we dare not permit ourselves to be

carried away by any form of mere words. We _must_ pause and investigate.

The fact that the dexterous brandishing of the beautiful precept in

question has made, and will no doubt continue to make, its thousands of

converts or victims, is a reason why its real import should be the more

closely examined and the more clearly defined. The havoc it makes among

those whose philanthropy is stronger than their judgment--or, if you

please, whose judgment is weaker than their philanthropy--flows not from

the divine precept itself, but only from human interpretations thereof.

And it should ever be borne in mind that he is the real enemy of the

great cause of philanthropy who, by absurd or overstrained applications

of this sublime precept, lessens that profound respect to which it is so

justly entitled from every portion of the rational universe.

It is repeatedly affirmed by Dr. Wayland that every slaveholder lives in

the habitual and open violation of the precept which requires us to love

our neighbor as ourselves. "The moral precepts of the Bible," says he,

"are diametrically opposed to slavery. These are, 'Thou shalt love thy

neighbor as thyself,' and 'All things whatsoever ye would that men

should do unto you, do ye even so unto them.' Now, were this precept

obeyed," he continues, "it is manifest that slavery could not in fact

exist for a single instant. The principle of the precept is absolutely

subversive of the principle of slavery." If strong assertion were

argument, we should no doubt be overwhelmed by the irresistible logic of

Dr. Wayland. But the assertion of no man can be accepted as sound

argument. We want to know the very meaning of the words of the great

Teacher, and to be guided by _that_, rather than by the fallible

authority of an earthly oracle. What, then, is the meaning, the real

meaning, of his inspired words?

Do they mean that whatsoever we might, in any relation of life, desire

for ourselves, we should be willing to grant to others in the like

relation or condition? This interpretation, we are aware, has been put

upon the words by a very celebrated divine. If we may believe that

divine, we cannot do as we would be done by, unless, when we desire the

estate of another, we forthwith transfer our estate to him! If a poor

man, for example, should happen to covet the estate of his rich

neighbor, then he is bound by this golden rule of benevolence to give

his little all to him, without regard to the necessities or wants of his

own family! But this interpretation, though seriously propounded by a

man of undoubted genius and piety, has not, so far as we know, made the

slightest possible impression on the plain good sense of mankind. Even

among his most enthusiastic admirers, it has merely excited a

good-natured smile at what they could not but regard as the strange

hallucination of a benevolent heart.

_A wrong desire in one relation of life is not a reason for a wrong act

in another relation thereof._ A man may desire the estate, he may desire

the man-servant, or the maid-servant, or the wife of his neighbor, but

this is no reason why he should abandon his own man-servant, or his

maid-servant, or his wife to the will of another. The criminal who

trembles at the bar of justice may desire both judge and jury to acquit

him, but this is no reason why, if acting in the capacity of either

judge or juror, he should bring in a verdict of acquittal in favor of

one justly accused of crime. If we would apply the rule in question

aright, we should consider, not what we might wish or desire if placed

in the situation of another, but what we _ought_ to wish or desire.

If a man were a child, he might wish to be exempt from the wholesome

restraint of his parents; but this, as every one will admit, is no

reason why he should abandon his own children to themselves. In like

manner, if he were a slave, he might most vehemently desire freedom; but

this is no reason why he should set his slaves at liberty. The whole

question of right turns upon what he _ought_ to wish or desire if placed

in such a condition. If he were an intelligent, cultivated, civilized

man,--in one word, if he were fit for freedom,--then his desire for

liberty would be a rational desire, would be such a feeling as he

_ought_ to cherish; and hence, he should be willing to extend the same

blessing to all other intelligent, cultivated, civilized men, to all

such as are prepared for its enjoyment. Such is the sentiment which he

should entertain, and such is precisely the sentiment entertained at the

South. No one here proposes to reduce any one to slavery, much less

those who are qualified for freedom; and hence the inquiry so often

propounded by Dr. Wayland and other abolitionists, how we would like to

be subjected to bondage, is a grand impertinence. We should like it as

little as themselves; and in this respect we shall do as we would be

done by.

But suppose we were veritable slaves--slaves in character and in

disposition as well as in fact--and as unfit for freedom as the Africans

of the South--what _ought_ we then to wish or desire? Ought we to desire

freedom? We answer, no; because on that supposition freedom would be a

curse and not a blessing. Dr. Wayland himself admits that "it is very

likely" freedom would be "the greatest possible injury" to the slaves of

the South. Hence, we cannot perceive that if we were such as they, we

ought to desire so great an evil to ourselves. It would indeed be to

desire "the greatest possible injury" to ourselves; and though, as

ignorant and blind slaves, we might cherish so foolish a desire,

especially if instigated by abolitionists, yet this is no reason why, as

enlightened citizens, we should be willing to inflict the same great

evil upon others. _A foolish desire, we repeat, in one relation of life,

is not a good reason for a foolish or injurious act in another relation

thereof._

The precept which requires us to do as we would be done by, was intended

to enlighten the conscience. It is used by abolitionists to hoodwink and

deceive the conscience. This precept directs us to conceive ourselves

placed in the condition of others, in order that we may the more clearly

perceive what is due to them. The abolitionist employs it to convince us

that, because we desire liberty for ourselves, we should extend it to

all men, even to those who are not qualified for its enjoyment, and to

whom it would prove "the greatest possible injury." He employs it not

to show us what is due to others, but to persuade us to injure them! He

may deceive himself; but so long as we believe what even he admits as

highly probable--namely, that the "abolition of slavery would be the

greatest possible injury to the slaves themselves"--we shall never use

the divine precept as an instrument of delusion and of wrong. What!

inflict the greatest injury on our neighbor, and that, too, out of pure

Christian charity?

But we need not argue with the abolitionist upon his own admissions. We

have infinitely stronger ground to stand on. The precept, "Thou shalt

love thy neighbor as thyself," is to be found in the Old Testament as

well as in the New. Thus, in the nineteenth chapter of Leviticus, it is

said, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself;" and no greater love

than this is any where inculcated in the New Testament. Yet in the

twenty-fifth chapter of the same book, it is written, "Of the children

of the strangers that do sojourn among you, of them shall ye buy, and of

their families that are with you, which they begat in your land: and

they shall be your possession. And ye shall take them as an inheritance

for your children after you, to inherit them for a possession; they

shall be your bondmen forever." This language is too plain for

controversy. In regard to this very passage, in which the Hebrews are

commanded to enter upon and take possession of the land of the

Canaanites, Dr. Wayland himself is constrained to admit--"The authority

to take them as slaves seems to be a part of this original, peculiar,

and I may perhaps say, anomalous grant."[147] Now, if the principle of

slavery, and the principle of the precept, Thou shalt love thy neighbor

as thyself, be as Dr. Wayland boldly asserts, _always and everywhere_ at

war with each other, how has it happened that both principles are so

clearly and so unequivocally embodied in one and the same code by the

Supreme Ruler of the world? Has this discrepancy escaped the eye of

Omniscience, and remained in the code of laws from heaven, to be

detected and exposed by "the author of the Moral Science"?

We do not mean that Dr. Wayland sees any discrepancy among the

principles of the divine legislation. It is true he sees there the

precept, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," and also this

injunction, "Thou shalt buy them for a possession," and "They shall be

your bondmen forever;" but although this looks very "anomalous" to him,

he dare not pronounce it absurd or self-contradictory. It is true, he

declares, that slavery is condemned _always and everywhere_ by "the

plainest dictates of natural justice;" but yet, although, according to

his own admission,[148] it was instituted by Heaven, he has found out a

method to save the character of the Almighty from the disgrace of such a

law. He says, "I know the word '_shalt_' is used when speaking of this

subject, but it is clearly used as _prophetic_, and not as _mandatory_."

Ay, the words "thou shalt" are used in regard to the buying and holding

of slaves, just as they are used in the commands which precede and

follow this injunction. There is no change in the form of the

expression. There is not, in any way, the slightest intimation that the

Lawgiver is about to prophesy; all seems to be a series of commands, and

is clothed in the same language of authority--"_thou shalt_." Yet in one

particular instance, and in one instance only, this language seems

"clearly" _prophetic_ to Dr. Wayland, and not _mandatory_. Now, I submit

to the candid and impartial reader, if this be not egregious trifling

with the word of God.

Dr. Wayland forgets that he had himself admitted that the very passage

in question clothed the Hebrews with "the authority to take

slaves."[149] He now, in the face of his own admission, declares that

this language "is clearly prophetic," and tells what _would_ or what

_might_ be, and not what _should_ or what _must_ be." The poor Hebrews,

however, when they took slaves by the authority of a "_thou shalt_" from

the Lord, never imagined that they were merely fulfilling a prophecy,

and committing an abominable sin.

This is clear to Dr. Wayland, if we may trust the last expression of his

opinion. But it is to be regretted, that either the clearness of his

perceptions, or the confidence of his assertions, is so often

disproportioned to the evidence before him. Thus, he says with the most

admirable modesty, "It _seems to me_ that the soul is the most important

part of a human being;"[150] and yet he peremptorily and positively

declares that the very strongest language of authority ever found in

Scripture "is _clearly_ used as prophetic and not mandatory!" He may,

however, well reserve the tone of dogmatic authority for such

propositions, since, if they may not be carried by assertion, they must

be left wholly without the least shadow of support. But one would

suppose that strength of assertion in such cases required for its

unembarrassed utterance no little strength of countenance.

"If any one doubts," says Dr. Wayland, "respecting the bearing of the

Scripture precept upon this case, a few plain questions may throw

additional light upon the subject."[151] Now, if we mistake not, the few

plain questions which he deems so unanswerable may be answered with the

most perfect ease. "Would the master be willing," he asks, "that another

person should subject him to slavery, for the same reasons and on the

same grounds that he holds his slave in bondage?" We answer, No. If any

man should undertake to subject Southern masters to slavery, on the

ground that they are intellectually and morally sunk so low as to be

unfit for freedom or self-control, we should certainly not like the

compliment. It may argue a very great degree of self-complacency in us,

but yet the plain fact is, that we really do believe ourselves competent

to govern ourselves, and to manage our affairs, without the aid of

masters. And as we are not willing to be made slaves of, especially on

any such humiliating grounds, so we are not willing to see any other

nation or race of men, whom we may deem qualified for the glorious

condition of freedom, subjected to servitude.

"Would the gospel allow us," he also asks, "if it were in our power, to

reduce our fellow-citizens of our own color to slavery?" Certainly not.

Nor do we propose to reduce any one, either white or black, to a state

of slavery. It is amazing to see with what an air of confidence such

questions are propounded. Dr. Channing, no less than Dr. Wayland, seems

to think they must carry home irresistible conviction to the heart and

conscience of every man who is not irremediably blinded by the

detestable institution of slavery. "Now, let every reader," says he,

"ask himself this plain question: Could I, can I, be rightfully seized

and made an article of property?" And we, too, say, Let every reader ask

himself this plain question, and then, if he please, answer it in the

negative. But what, then, should follow? Why, if you please, he should

refuse to seize any other man or to make him an article of property. He

should be opposed to the crime of kidnapping. But if, from such an

answer, he should conclude that the institution of slavery is

"everywhere and always wrong," then surely, after what has been said,

not another word is needed to expose the ineffable weakness and futility

of the conclusion.

This golden rule, this divine precept, requires us to conceive ourselves

placed in the condition of our slaves, and then to ask ourselves, How

should we be treated by the master? in order to obtain a clear and

impartial view of our duty to them. This it requires of us; and this we

can most cheerfully perform. We can conceive that we are poor, helpless,

dependent beings, possessing the passions of men and the intellects of

children. We can conceive that we are by nature idle, improvident, and,

without a protector and friend to guide and control us, utterly unable

to take care of ourselves. And, having conceived all this, if we ask

ourselves, How should we be treated by the masters whom the law has

placed over us, what is the response? Is it that they should turn us

loose to shift for ourselves? Is it that they should abandon us to

ourselves, only to fall a prey to indolence, and to the legion of vices

and crimes which ever follow in its train? Is it that they should set us

free, and expose us, without protection, to the merciless impositions of

the worst portions of a stronger and more sagacious race? Is it, in one

word, that we should be free from the dominion of men, who, as a general

thing, are humane and wise in their management of us, only to become the

victims--the most debased and helpless victims--of every evil way? We

answer, No! Even the spirit of abolitionism itself has, in the person of

Dr. Wayland, declared that such treatment would, in all probability, be

the greatest of calamities. We feel sure it would be an infinite and

remediless curse. And as we believe that, if we were in the condition of

slaves, such treatment would be so great and so withering a curse, so we

cannot, out of a feeling of love, proceed to inflict this curse upon our

slaves. On the contrary, _we would do as we so clearly see we ought to

be done by_, if our conditions were changed.

Is it not amazing, as well as melancholy, that learned divines, who

undertake to instruct the benighted South in the great principles of

duty, should entertain such superficial and erroneous views of the

first, great, and all-comprehending precept of the gospel? If their

interpretation of this precept were correct, then the child might be set

free from the authority of the father, and the criminal from the

sentence of the judge. All justice would be extinguished, all order

overthrown, and boundless confusion introduced into the affairs of men.

Yet, with unspeakable self-complacency, they come with such miserable

interpretations of the plainest truths to instruct those whom they

conceive to be blinded by custom and the institution of slavery to the

clearest light of heaven. They tell us, "Thou shouldst love thy neighbor

as thyself;" and they reiterate these words in our ears, just as if we

had never heard them before. If this is all they have to say, why then

we would remind them that the _meaning_ of the precept is the precept.

It is not a mere _sound_, it is _sense_, which these glorious words are

intended to convey. And if they can only repeat the words for us, why

then they might just as well send a host of free negroes with good,

strong lungs to be our instructors in moral science.

§ VIII. _The eighth fallacy of the abolitionist._

An argument is drawn from the divine attributes against the institution

of slavery. One would suppose that a declaration from God himself is

some little evidence as to what is agreeable to his attributes; but it

seems that moral philosophers have, now-a-days, found out a better

method of arriving at what is implied by his perfections. Dr. Wayland is

one of those who, setting aside the word of God, appeal to his

attributes in favor of the immediate and universal abolition of slavery.

If slavery were abolished, says he, "the laborer would then work in

conformity with the conditions which God has appointed, whereas he now

works at variance with them; in the one case, we should be attempting to

accumulate property under the blessing of God, whereas now we are

attempting to do it under _his special and peculiar malediction_. How

can we expect to prosper, when there is not, as Mr. Jefferson remarks,

'an attribute of the Almighty that can be appealed to in our

favor'?"[152] If we may rely upon his own words, rather than upon the

confident assertions of Dr. Wayland, we need not fear the curse of God

upon the slaveholder. The readiness with which Dr. Wayland points the

thunders of the divine wrath at our heads, is better evidence of the

passions of his own heart than of the perfections of the Almighty.

Again he says: "If Jefferson trembled for his country when he remembered

that God is just, and declared that, 'in case of insurrection, the

Almighty has no attribute that can take part with us in the contest,'

surely it becomes a _disciple of Jesus Christ_ to pause and reflect."

Now let it be borne in mind that all this proceeds from a man, from a

professed disciple of Jesus Christ, who, in various places, has truly,

as well as emphatically, said, "_The duty of slaves_ is also explicitly

made known in the Bible. They are bound to _obedience_, _fidelity_,

_submission_, and respect to their masters,"[153] etc., etc.

Such, then, according to Dr. Wayland himself, is the clear and

unequivocal teaching of revelation. And such being the case, shall the

_real_ "disciple of Jesus Christ" be made to believe, on the authority

of Mr. Jefferson or of any other man, that the Almighty has no attribute

which could induce him to take sides with his own law? If, instead of

submission to that law, there should be rebellion,--and not only

rebellion, but bloodshed and murder,--shall we believe that the

Almighty, the supreme Ruler of heaven and earth, would look on well

pleased? Since such is the express declaration of God himself respecting

the duty of slaves, it surely becomes a disciple of Christ to pause and

reflect whether he will follow his voice or the voice of man.

We owe at least one benefit to the Northern abolitionists. Ere the

subject of slavery was agitated by them, there were many loose, floating

notions among us, as well as among themselves, respecting the nature of

liberty, which were at variance with the institution of slavery. But

since this agitation began, we have looked more narrowly into the

grounds of slavery, as well as into the character of the arguments by

which it is assailed, and we have found the first as solid as adamant,

the last as unsubstantial as moonshine. If Mr. Jefferson had lived till

the present day, there can be no doubt, we think, that he would have

been on the same side of this great question with the Calhouns, the

Clays, and the Websters of the country. We have known many who, at one

time, fully concurred with Mr. Jefferson on this subject, but are now

firm believers in the perfect justice and humanity of negro slavery.

§ IX. _The ninth fallacy of the abolitionist._

We have already seen that the abolitionist argues the question of

slavery as if Southerners were proposing to catch freemen and reduce

them to bondage. He habitually overlooks the fact, that slavery results,

not from the action of the individual, but from an ordinance of the

State. He forgets that it is a civil institution, and proceeds to argue

as if it were founded in individual wrong. And even when he rises--as he

sometimes does--to a contemplation of the real question in dispute, he

generally takes a most narrow and one-sided view of the subject. For he

generally takes it for granted that the legislation which ordains the

institution of slavery is _intended_ solely and exclusively for the

benefit of the master, without the least regard to the interests of the

slave.

Thus says Dr. Wayland: "Domestic slavery proceeds upon the principle

that the master has a right to control the actions--physical and

intellectual--of the slave for his own (that is, the master's)

individual benefit,"[154] etc. And again: "It supposes that the Creator

intended one human being to govern the physical, intellectual, and moral

actions of as many other human beings as, by purchase, he can bring

within his physical power; and that _one human being may thus acquire a

right to sacrifice the happiness of any number of other human beings,

for the purpose of promoting his own_."[155] Now, surely, if this

representation be just, then the institution of slavery should be held

in infinite abhorrence by every man in Christendom.

But we can assure Dr. Wayland that, however ignorant or heathenish he

may be pleased to consider the people of the Southern States, we are not

so utterly lost to all reverence for the Creator as to suppose, even for

a moment, that he _intended any one human being to possess the right of

sacrificing the happiness of his fellow-men to his own_. We can assure

him that we are not quite so dead to every sentiment of political

justice, as to imagine that any legislation which intends to benefit the

one at the expense of the many is otherwise than unequal and iniquitous

in the extreme. There is some little sense of justice left among us yet;

and hence we approve of no institution or law which proceeds on the

monstrous principle that any one man has, or can have, the "_right to

sacrifice the happiness of any number of other human beings for the

purpose of promoting his own_." We recognize no such right. It is as

vehemently abhorred and condemned by us as it can be abhorred and

condemned by the author himself.

In thus taking it for granted, as Dr. Wayland so coolly does, that the

institution in question is "intended" to sacrifice the happiness of the

slaves to the selfish interest of the master, he incontinently begs the

whole question. Let him establish this point, and the whole controversy

will be at an end. But let him not hope to establish any thing, or to

satisfy any one, by assuming the very point in dispute, and then proceed

to demolish what every man at the South condemns no less than himself.

Surely, no one who has looked at both sides of this great question can

be ignorant that the legislation of the South proceeds on the principle

that slavery is beneficial, not to the master only, but also and

_especially_ to the slave. Surely, no one who has either an eye or an

ear for facts can be ignorant that the institution of slavery is based

on the ground, or principle, that it is beneficial, not only to the

parts, but also to the whole, of the society in which it exists. This

ground, or principle, is set forth in every defense of slavery by the

writers and speakers of the South; it is so clearly and so unequivocally

set forth, that he who runs may read. Why, then, is it overlooked by Dr.

Wayland? Why is he pleased to imagine that he is combating Southern

principles, when, in reality, he is merely combating the monstrous

figment, the distorted conception of his own brain,--namely, the right

of one man to sacrifice the happiness of multitudes to his own will and

pleasure? Is it because facts do not lie within the province of the

moral philosopher? Is it because fiction alone is worthy of his

attention? Or is it because a blind, partisan zeal has so far taken

possession of his very understanding, that he finds it impossible to

speak of the institution of slavery, except in the language of the

grossest misrepresentation?

§ X. _The tenth, eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth,

and sixteenth fallacies of the abolitionist; or his seven arguments

against the right of a man to hold property in his fellow-man._

"This claim of property in a human being," says Dr. Channing, "is

altogether false, groundless. No such right of man in man can exist. A

human being cannot be justly owned." The only difficulty in maintaining

this position is, according to Dr. Channing, "on account of its

exceeding obviousness. It is too plain for proof. To defend it is like

trying to confirm a self-evident truth," etc., etc. Yet he advances no

less than seven "arguments," as he calls them, in order to establish

this self-evident position. We shall examine these seven arguments, and

see if his great confidence be not built on a mere abuse of words.

"The consciousness of our humanity," says he, "involves the persuasion

that we cannot be owned as a tree or a brute." This, as every body

knows, is one of the hackneyed commonplaces of the abolitionist. He

never ceases to declaim about the injustice of slavery, because it

regards, as he is pleased to assert, a man as a mere thing or a brute.

Now, once for all, we freely admit that it were monstrously unjust to

regard or treat a man otherwise than as a man. We freely admit that a

human being "can not be owned as a tree or a brute."

A tree may be _absolutely_ owned. That is to say, the owner of a tree

may do what he pleases with his own, provided he do no harm or injury

with it. He may cut it down; and, if he please, he may beat it as long

as he has the power to raise an arm. He may work it into a house or into

a piece of furniture, or he may lay it on the fire, and reduce it to

ashes. He may, we repeat, do just exactly what he pleases with his own,

if his own be such a thing as a tree, _for a tree has no rights_.

It is far otherwise with a brute. The owner of a horse, for example, may

not do what he pleases with his own. Here his property is not

_absolute_; it is _limited_. He may not beat his horse without mercy,

"for a good man is merciful to his beast." He may not cut his horse to

pieces, or burn him on the fire. For the horse has rights, which the

owner himself is bound to respect. The horse has a right to food and

kind treatment, and the owner who refuses these is a tyrant. Nay, the

very worm that crawls beneath our feet has his rights as well as the

monarch on his throne; and just in so far as these rights are

disregarded by a man is that man a tyrant.

Hence even the brute may not be regarded or treated as a mere thing or a

tree. He can be owned and treated no otherwise than as a brute. The

horse, for example, may not be left, like a tree, without food and care;

but he may be saddled and rode as a horse; or he may be hitched to the

plough, and compelled to do his master's work.

In like manner, a man cannot be owned or treated as a horse. He cannot

be saddled or rode, nor hitched to the plough and be made to do the work

of a horse. On the contrary, he should be treated as a man, and required

to perform only the work of a man. The right to such work is all the

ownership which any one man can rightfully have in another; and this is

all which any slaveholder of the South needs to claim.

The real question is, _Can one man have a right to the personal service

or obedience of another without his consent?_ We do not intend to let

the abolitionist throw dust in our eyes, and shout victory amid a clamor

of words. We intend to hold him to the point. Whether he be a learned

divine, or a distinguished senator, we intend he shall speak to the

point, or else his argument shall be judged, not according to the

eloquent noise it makes or the excitement it produces, but according to

the _sense_ it contains.

_Can a man, then, have a right to the labor or obedience of another

without his consent?_ Give us this right, and it is all we ask. We lay

no claim to the soul of the slave. We grant to the abolitionist, even

more freely than he can assert, that the "soul of the slave is his own."

Or, rather, we grant that his soul belongs exclusively to the God who

gave it. The master may use him not as a tree or a brute, but only as a

rational, accountable, and immortal being may be used. He may not

command him to do any thing which is wrong; and if he should so far

forget himself as to require such service of his slave, he would himself

be guilty of the act. If he should require his slave to violate any law

of the land, he would be held not as a _particeps criminis_ merely, but

as a criminal in the first degree. In like manner, if he should require

him to violate the law of God, he would be guilty--far more guilty than

the slave himself--in the sight of heaven. These are truths which are

just as well understood at the South as they are at the North.

The master, we repeat, lays no claim to the soul of the slave. He

demands no spiritual service of him, he exacts no divine honors. With

his own soul he is fully permitted to serve his own God. With this soul

he may follow the solemn injunction of the Most High, "Servants, obey

your masters;" or he may listen to the voice of the tempter, "Servants,

fly from your masters." Those only who instigate him to violate the law

of God, whether at the North or at the South, are the men who seek to

deprive him of his rights and to exercise an infamous dominion over his

soul.

Since, then, the master claims only a right to the labor and lawful

obedience of the slave, and no right whatever to his soul, it follows

that the argument, which Dr. Channing regards as the strongest of his

seven, has no real foundation. Since the master claims to have no

property in the "rational, moral, and immortal" part of his being, so

all the arguments, or rather all the empty declamation, based on the

false supposition of such claim, falls to the ground. So the passionate

appeals, proceeding on the supposition of such a monstrous claim, and

addressed to the religious sensibilities of the multitude, are only

calculated to deceive and mislead their judgment. It is a mere thing of

words; and, though "full of sound and fury," it signifies nothing. "The

traffic in human souls," which figures so largely in the speeches of the

divines and demagogues, and which so fiercely stirs up the most

unhallowed passions of their hearers, _is merely the transfer of a right

to labor_.

Does any one doubt whether such a right may exist? The master certainly

has a right to the labor of his apprentice for a specified period of

time, though he has no right to his soul even for a moment. The father,

too, has a right to the personal service and obedience of his child

until he reach the age of twenty-one; but no one ever supposed that he

owned the soul of his child, or might sell it, if he pleased, to

another. Though he may not sell the soul of his child, it is universally

admitted that he may, for good and sufficient reasons, transfer his

right to the labor and obedience of his child. Why, then, should it be

thought impossible that such a right to service may exist for life? If

it may exist for one period, why not for a longer, and even for life?

If the good of both parties and the good of the whole community require

such a relation and such a right to exist, why should it be deemed so

unjust, so iniquitous, so monstrous? This whole controversy turns, we

repeat, not upon any consideration of abstract rights, but solely upon

the highest good of all--upon the highest good of the slave as well as

upon that of the community.

"It is plain," says Dr. Channing, in his first argument, "that if any

one may be held as property, then any other man may be so held." This

sophism has been already sufficiently refuted. It proceeds on the

supposition that if one man, however incapable of self-government, may

be placed under the control of another, then all men may be placed under

the control of others! It proceeds on the idea that all men should be

placed in precisely the same condition, subjected to precisely the same

authority, and required to perform precisely the same kind of labor. In

one word, it sees no difference and makes no distinction between a Negro

and a Newton. But as an overstrained and false idea of equality lies at

the foundation of this argument, so it will pass under review again,

when we come to consider the great demonstration which the abolitionist

is accustomed to deduce from the axiom that "all men are created equal."

The third argument of Dr. Channing is, like the first, "founded on the

essential equality of men." Hence, like the first, it may be postponed

until we come to consider the true meaning and the real political

significancy of the natural equality of all men. We shall barely remark,

in passing, that two arguments cannot be made out of one by merely

changing the mode of expression.

The second argument of the author is as follows: "A man cannot be seized

and held as property, because he has rights. . . . A being having rights

cannot justly be made property, _for this claim over him virtually

annuls all his rights_." This argument, it is obvious, is based on the

arbitrary idea which the author has been pleased to attach to the term

_property_. If it proves any thing, it would prove that a horse could

not be held as property, for a horse certainly has rights. But, as we

have seen, a limited property, or a right to the labor of a man, does

not deny or annul all his rights, nor necessarily any one of them. This

argument needs no further refutation. For we acknowledge that the slave

has rights; and the limited or qualified property which the master

claims in him, extending merely to his personal human labor and his

lawful obedience, touches not one of these rights.

The fourth argument of Dr. Channing is identical with the second. "That

a human being," says he, "cannot be justly held as property, is apparent

from _the very nature of property_. Property is an exclusive right. It

shuts out all claim but that of the possessor. What one man owns cannot

belong to another." The only difference between the two arguments is

this: in one the "_nature of_ property" is said "to annul all rights;"

and in the other it is said "to exclude all rights!" Both are based on

the same idea of property, and both arrive at the same conclusion, with

only a very slight difference in the mode of expression!

And both are equally unsound. True; "what one man owns cannot belong to

another." But may not one man have a right to the labor of another, as a

father to the labor of his son, or a master to the labor of his

apprentice; and yet that other a right to food and raiment, as well as

to other things? May not one have a right to the service of another,

without annulling or excluding all the rights of that other? This

argument proceeds, it is evident, on the false supposition that if any

being be held as property, then he has no rights; a supposition which,

if true, would exclude and annul the right of property in every living

creature.

Dr. Channing's fifth argument is deduced from "the universal indignation

excited toward _a man_ who makes another his slave." "Our laws," says

he, "know no higher crime than that of reducing a man to slavery. To

steal or to buy an African on his own shores is piracy." "To steal a

man," we reply, is one thing; and, by the authority of the law of the

land, to require him to do certain labor, is, one would think, quite

another. The first may be as high a crime as any known to our laws; the

last is recognized by our laws themselves. Is it not wonderful that Dr.

Channing could not see so plain a distinction, so broad and so glaring a

difference? The father of his country held slaves; _he did not commit

the crime of man-stealing_.

The sixth argument of Dr. Channing, "against the right of property in

man," is "drawn from a very obvious principle of moral science. It is a

plain truth, universally received, that every right supposes or involves

a corresponding obligation. If, then, a man has a right to another's

person or powers, the latter is under obligation to give himself up as

a chattel to the former." Most assuredly, if one man has a right to the

service or obedience of another, then that other is under obligation to

render that service or obedience to him. But is such an obligation

absurd? Is it inconsistent with the inherent, the inalienable, the

universal rights of man that the "servant should obey his master?" If

so, then we fear the rights of man were far better understood by Dr.

Channing than by the Creator of the world and the Author of revelation.

Such are the seven arguments adduced by Dr. Channing to show that no man

can rightfully hold property in his fellow-man. But before we quit this

branch of the subject, we shall advert to a passage in the address of

the Hon. Charles Sumner, before the people of New York, at the

Metropolitan Theatre, May 9, 1855. "I desire to present this argument,"

says he, "on grounds above all controversy, impeachment, or suspicion,

even from slave-masters themselves. Not on triumphant story, not even on

indisputable facts, do I now accuse slavery, but on its character, as

revealed in its own simple definition of itself. Out of its own mouth do

I condemn it." Well, and why does he condemn it? Because, "by the law of

slavery, man, created in the image of God, is _divested of his human

character_ and declared to be a _mere_ chattel. That the statement may

not seem to be put forward without precise authority, I quote the law of

two different slave States." That is the accusation. It is to be proved

by the law of slavery itself. It is to be proved beyond "all

controversy," by an appeal to "indisputable facts." Now let us have the

facts: here they are. "The law of another polished slave State, says Mr.

Sumner, "gives this definition: 'Slaves shall be delivered, sold, taken,

reputed, and adjudged in law to be chattels personal, in the hands of

their owners and possessors, and their executors, administrators, and

assignees, to all intents, constructions, and purposes whatsoever.'"

Now, _mark_; the learned Senator undertook to prove, beyond all doubt

and controversy, that slavery _divests the slave of his human

character_, and declares him to be a _mere_ chattel. But he merely

proves that it declares him to be a "chattel personal." He merely proves

that the law of a Southern State regards the slave, not as real estate

or landed property, but as a "chattel personal." Does this divest him of

his human character? Does this make him a _mere_ chattel? May the

slave, in consequence of such law, be treated as a brute or a tree? May

he be cut in pieces or worked to death at the will and pleasure of the

master?

"We think that a learned Senator, especially when he undertakes to

demonstrate, should distinguish between declaring a man to be "a chattel

personal," and a _mere_ chattel. No one doubts that a man is a thing;

but is he therefore a _mere_ thing, or nothing more than a thing? In

like manner, no one doubts that a man is an animal; does it follow,

therefore, that he is a _mere_ animal, or nothing but an animal? It is

clear, that to declare a man may be held as a "chattel personal," is a

very different thing from declaring that he is a _mere_ chattel. So much

for his honor's "precise authority."

In what part of the law, then, is the slave "divested of his human

character?" In no part whatever. If it had declared him to be a _mere_

thing, or a _mere_ chattel, or a _mere_ animal, it would have denied his

human character, we admit; but the law in question has done no such

thing. Nor is any such declaration contained in the other law quoted by

the learned Senator from the code of Louisiana. It is _merely_ by the

interpolation of this little word _mere_, that the Senator of

Massachusetts has made the law of South Carolina divest an immortal

being of his "human character." He is welcome to all the applause which

this may have gained for him in the "Metropolitan Theatre."

The learned Senator adduces another authority. "A careful writer," says

he, "Judge Stroud, in a work of juridical as well as philanthropic

merit, thus sums up the laws: 'The cardinal principle of slavery--that

the slave is not to be ranked among _sentient_[156] beings, but among

things--as an article of property--a chattel personal--obtains as

undoubted law in all these (the slave) States.'" We thus learn from this

very "careful writer" that slaves among us are "not ranked among

_sentient_ beings," and that this is "the cardinal principle of

slavery." No, they are not fed, nor clothed, nor treated as sentient

beings! They are left without food and raiment, just as if they were

stocks and stones! They are not talked to, nor reasoned with, as if they

were rational animals, but only driven about, like dumb brutes beneath

the lash! No, no, not the lash, for that would recognize them as

"sentient beings!" They are only thrown about like stones, or boxed up

like chattels; they are not set, like men, over the lower animals,

required to do the work of men; the precise work which, of all others,

in the grand and diversified economy of _human_ industry, they are the

best qualified to perform! So far, indeed, is this from being "the

cardinal principle of slavery," that it is no principle of slavery at

all. It bears not the most distant likeness or approximation to any

principle of slavery, with which we of the South have any the most

remote acquaintance.

That man may, in certain cases, be held as property, is a truth

recognized by a higher authority than that of senators and divines. It

is, as we have seen, recognized by the word of God himself. In that

word, the slave is called the "possession"[157] of the master, and even

"his money."[158] Now, is not this language as strong, if not stronger,

than that adduced from the code of South Carolina? It certainly calls

the "bondman" his master's "money." Why, then, did not the Senator from

Massachusetts denounce this language, as divesting "a man of his human

character," and declaring him to be _mere_ money? Why did he not proceed

to condemn the legislation of Heaven, as well as of the South, out of

its own mouth? Most assuredly, if his principles be correct, then is he

bound to pronounce the law of God itself manifestly unjust and

iniquitous. For that law as clearly recognizes the right of property in

man as it could possibly be recognized in words. But it nowhere commits

the flagrant solecism of supposing that this right of the master annuls

or excludes all the rights of the slave. On the contrary, the rights of

the slave are recognized, as well as those of the master. For, according

to the law of God, though "a possession," and an "inheritance," and "a

bondman forever," yet is the slave, nevertheless, a man; and, as a man,

is he protected in his rights; in his rights, not as defined by

abolitionists, but as recognized by the word of God.

§ XI. _The seventeenth fallacy of the abolitionist; or the argument from

the Declaration of Independence._

This argument is regarded by the abolitionists as one of their great

strongholds; and no doubt it is so in effect, for who can bear a

superior? Lucifer himself, who fell from heaven because he could not

acknowledge a superior, seduced our first parents by the suggestion that

in throwing off the yoke of subjection, they should become "as gods." We

need not wonder, then, if it should be found, that an appeal to the

absolute equality of all men is the most ready way to effect the ruin of

States. We can surely conceive of none better adapted to subvert all

order among us of the South, involving the two races in a servile war,

and the one or the other in utter extinction. Hence we shall examine

this argument from the equality of all men, or rather this appeal to all

men's abhorrence of inferiority. This appeal is usually based on the

Declaration of Independence: "We hold these truths to be self-evident:

that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator

with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and

the pursuit of happiness." We do not mean to play upon these words; we

intend to take them exactly as they are understood by our opponents. As

they are not found in a metaphysical document or discussion, so it would

be unfair to suppose--as is sometimes done--that they inculcate the wild

dream of Helvetius, that all men are created with equal natural

capacities of mind. They occur in a declaration of independence; and as

the subject is the doctrine of human rights, so we suppose they mean to

declare that all men are created equal with respect to natural rights.

Nor do we assert that there is no truth in this celebrated proposition

or maxim; for we believe that, if rightly understood, it contains most

important and precious truth. It is not on this account, however, the

less dangerous as a maxim of political philosophy. Nay, falsehood is

only then the more dangerous, when it is so blended with truth that its

existence is not suspected by its victims. Hence the unspeakable

importance of dissecting this pretended maxim, and separating the

precious truth it contains from the pernicious falsehood by which its

followers are deceived. Its truth is certainly very far from being

self-evident, or rather its truth is self-evident to some, while its

falsehood is equally self-evident to others, according to the side from

which it is viewed. We shall endeavor to throw some light both upon its

truth and its falsehood, and, if possible, draw the line which divides

them from each other.

This maxim does not mean, then, that all men have, by nature, an equal

right to political power or to posts of honor. No doubt the words are

often understood in this sense by those who, without reflection, merely

echo the Declaration of Independence; but, in this sense, they are

utterly untenable. If all men had, by nature, an equal right to any of

the offices of government, how could such rights be adjusted? How could

such a conflict be reconciled? It is clear that all men could not be

President of the United States; and if all men had an equal natural

right to that office, no one man could be elevated to it without a wrong

to all the rest. In such case, all men should have, at least, an equal

chance to occupy the presidential chair. Such equal chance could not

result from the right of all men to offer themselves as candidates for

the office; for, at the bar of public opinion, vast multitudes would not

have the least shadow of a chance. The only way to effect such an object

would be by resorting to the lot. We might thus determine who, among so

many equally just claimants, should actually possess the power of the

supreme magistrate. This, it must be confessed, would be to recognize in

deed, as well as in word, the equal rights of all men. But what more

absurd than such an equality of rights? It is not without example in

history; but it is to be hoped that such example will never be copied.

The democracy of Athens, it is well known, was, at one time, so far

carried away by the idea of equal rights, that her generals and orators

and poets were elected by the lot. This was an equality, not in theory

merely, but in practice. Though the lives and fortunes of mankind were

thus intrusted to the most ignorant and depraved, or to the most wise

and virtuous, as the lot might determine, yet this policy was based on

an equality of rights. It is scarcely necessary to add that this idea of

equality prevailed, not in the better days of the Athenian democracy,

but only during its imbecility and corruption.

If all men, then, have not a natural right to fill an office of

government, who has this right? Who has the natural right, for example,

to occupy the office of President of the United States? Certainly some

men have no such right. The man, for example, who has no capacity to

govern himself, but needs a guardian, has no right to superintend the

affairs of a great nation. Though a citizen, he has no more right to

exercise such power or authority than if he were a Hottentot, or an

African, or an ape. Hence, in bidding such a one to stand aside and

keep aloof from such high office, no right is infringed and no injury

done. Nay, right is secured, and injury prevented.

Who has such a right, then?--such natural right, or right according to

the law of nature or reason? The man, we answer, who, all things

considered, is the best qualified to discharge the duties of the office.

The man who, by his superior wisdom, and virtue, and statesmanship,

would use the power of such office more effectually for the good of the

whole people than would any other man. If there be one such man, and

only one, he of _natural right_ should be our President. And all the

laws framed to regulate the election of President are, or should be,

only so many means designed to secure the services of that man, if

possible, and thereby secure the rights of all against the possession of

power by the unworthy or the less worthy. This object, it is true, is

not always attained, these means are not always successful; but this is

only one of the manifold imperfections which necessarily attach to all

human institutions; one of the melancholy instances in which natural and

legal right run in different channels. All that can be hoped, indeed,

either in the construction or in the administration of human laws, is an

approximation, more or less close, to the great principles of natural

justice.

What is thus so clearly true in regard to the office of President, is

equally true in regard to all the other offices of government. It is

contrary to reason, to natural right, to justice, that either fools, or

knaves, or demagogues should occupy seats in Congress; yet all of these

classes are sometimes seen there, and by the law of the land are

entitled to their seats. Here, again, that which is right and fit in

itself is different from that which exists under the law.

The same remarks, it is evident, are applicable to governors, to judges,

to sheriffs, to constables, and to justices of the peace. In every

instance, he who is best qualified to discharge the duties of an office,

and who would do so with greatest advantage to all concerned, has the

natural right thereto. And no man who would fill any office, or exercise

any power so as to injure the community, has any right to such office or

power.

There is precisely the same limitation to the exercise of the elective

franchise. Those only should be permitted to exercise this power who are

qualified to do so with advantage to the community; and all laws which

regulate or limit the possession of this power should have in view, not

the equal rights of all men, but solely and exclusively the public good.

It is on this principle that foreigners are not allowed to vote as soon

as they land upon our shores, and that native Americans can do so only

after they have reached a certain age. And if the public good required

that any class of men, such as free blacks or slaves, for example,

should be excluded from the privilege altogether, then no doubt can

remain the law excluding them would be just. It might not be equal, but

would be _just_. Indeed, in the high and holy sense of the word, it

would be equal; for, if it excluded some from a privilege or power which

it conferred upon others, this is because they were not included within

the condition on which alone it should be extended to any. Such is not

an equality of rights and power, it is true; but it is an equality of

justice, like that which reigns in the divine government itself. In the

light of that justice, it is clear that no man, and no class of men, can

have a natural right to exercise a power which, if intrusted to them,

would be wielded for harm, and not for good.

This great truth, when stripped of the manifold sophistications of a

false logic, is so clear and unquestionable, that it has not failed to

secure the approbation of abolitionists themselves. Thus, after all his

wild extravagancies about inherent, inalienable, and equal rights, Dr.

Channing has, in one of his calmer moods, recognized this great

fundamental truth. "The slave," says he, "cannot rightfully, and should

not, be owned by the individual. But, like every citizen, _he is subject

to the community_, AND THE COMMUNITY HAS A RIGHT AND IS BOUND TO

CONTINUE ALL SUCH RESTRAINTS AS ITS OWN SAFETY AND THE WELL-BEING OF THE

SLAVE DEMANDS." Now this is all we ask in regard to the question of

equal rights. All we ask is, that each and every individual may be in

such wise and so far restrained as the public good demands and no

further. All we ask is, as may be seen from the first chapter of this

Essay, that the right of the individual, whether real or imaginary, may

be held in subjection to the undoubted right of the community to protect

itself and to secure its own highest good. This solemn right, so

inseparably linked to a sacred duty, is paramount to the rights and

powers of the individual. Nay, as we have already seen,[159] the

individual can have no right that conflicts with this; because it is

his _duty_ to co-operate in the establishment of the general good.

Surely he can have no right which is adverse to duty. Indeed, if for the

general good, he would not cheerfully lay down both liberty and life,

then both may be rightfully taken from him. We have, it is true,

inherent and _inalienable rights_, but among these is neither liberty

nor life. For these, upon our country's altar, may be sacrificed; but

conscience, truth, honor may not be touched by man.

Has the community, then, after all, the right to compel "a man," a

"rational and immortal being," to work? Let Dr. Channing answer: "If he

(the slave) cannot be induced to work by rational and natural motives,

_he should be obliged to labor, on the same principle on which the

vagrant in other communities is confined and compelled to earn his

bread_." Now, if a man be "confined, and compelled" to work in his

confinement, what becomes of his "inalienable right to liberty?" We

think there must be a slight mistake somewhere. Perhaps it is in the

Declaration of Independence itself. Nay, is it not evident, indeed, that

if all men have an inalienable right to liberty," then is this sacred

right trampled in the dust by every government on earth? Is it not as

really disregarded by the enlightened Commonwealth of Massachusetts,

which "confines and compels" vagrants to earn their bread, as it is by

the Legislature of Virginia, which has taken the wise precaution to

prevent the rise of a swarm of vagrants more destructive than the

locusts of Egypt? The plain truth is, that although this notion of the

"inalienable right" of all to liberty may sound very well in a

declaration of independence, and may be most admirably adapted to stir

up the passions of men and produce fatal commotions in a commonwealth,

yet no wise nation ever has been or ever will be guided by it in the

construction of her laws. It may be a brand of discord in the hands of

the abolitionist and the demagogue. It will never be an element of

light, or power, or wisdom, in the bosom of the statesman.