Iii.
The theme was—
Freedom national; slavery sectional.
The occasion was the following memorial of the members of the Society of Friends of
New England:
We, therefore, respectfully, but earnestly and sincerely, entreat you to repeal the law of the last Congress respecting fugitive slaves; first and principally, because of its injustice towards a long sorely-oppressed and deeply-injured people; and, secondly, in order that we, together with other conscientious sufferers, may be exempted from the penalties which it imposes on all who, in faithfulness to their Divine Master, and in discharge of their obligations to their distressed fellow-men, feel bound to regulate their conduct, even under the heaviest penalties which man can inflict for so doing, by the Divine injunction, ‘All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them;’ and by the other commandment, ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself.’
‘The subject is at last broadly before the Senate, and by the blessing of God, it shall be discussed.’
These were the words with which he opened his speech, after the last impediment had been swept away.
He then entered upon his main argument:—
Sir, a severe lawgiver of early Greece vainly sought to secure permanence for his imperfect institutions, by providing that the citizen who, at any time, attempted their alteration or repeal, should appear in the public assembly with a halter about his neck, ready to be drawn if
[115]
his proposition failed to be adopted.
A tyrannical spirit among us, in unconscious imitation of this antique and discarded barbarism, seeks to surround an offensive institution with a similar safeguard.
In the existing distemper of the public mind and at this present juncture, no man can enter upon the service which I now undertake, without a personal responsibility, such as can be sustained only by that sense of duty which, under God, is always our best support.
That personal responsibility I accept.
Before the Senate and the country let me be held accountable for this act, and for every word which I utter.
With me, sir, there is no alternative.
Painfully convinced of the unutterable wrongs and woes of slavery; profoundly believing that, according to the true spirit of the Constitution and the sentiments of the fathers, it can find no place under our National Government—that it is in every respect sectional, and in no respect national—that it is always and everywhere the creature and dependent of the States, and never anywhere the creature or dependent of the Nation, and that the Nation can never, by legislative or other act, impart to it any support, under the Constitution of the United States; with these convictions, I could not allow this session to reach its close, without making or seizing an opportunity to declare myself openly against the usurpation, injustice, and cruelty of the late enactment by Congress for the recovery of fugitive slaves.
Full well I know, sir, the difficulties of this discussion, arising from prejudices of opinion and from adverse conclusions, strong and sincere as my own. Full well I know that I am in a small minority, with few here to whom I may look for sympathy or support.
Full well I know that I must utter things unwelcome to many in this body, which I cannot do without pain.
Full well I know that the institution of slavery in our country, which I now proceed to consider, is as sensitive as it is powerful—possessing a power to shake the whole land with a sensitiveness that shrinks and trembles at the touch.
But, while these things may properly prompt me to caution and reserve, they cannot change my duty, or my determination to perform it. For this I willingly forget myself, and all personal consequences.
The favor and good — will of my fellow-citizens, of my brethren of the Senate, sir,— grateful to me as it justly is—I am ready, if required, to sacrifice.
All that I am or may be, I freely offer to this cause.
And here allow me, for one moment, to refer to myself and my position.
Sir, I have never been a politician.
The slave of principles, I call no party master.
By sentiment, education, and conviction, a friend of Human Rights, in their utmost expansion, I have ever
[116]
most sincerely embraced the Democratic Idea; not, indeed, as represented or professed by any party, but according to its real significance, as transfigured in the Declaration of Independence, and in the injunctions of Christianity.
Party does not constrain me; nor is my independence lessened by any relations to the office which gives me a title to be heard on this floor.
And here, sir, I may speak proudly.
By no effort, by no desire of my own, I find myself a Senator of the United States.
Never before have I held public office of any kind.
With the ample opportunities of private life I was content.
No tombstone for me could bear a fairer inscription than this: ‘Here lies one who, without the honors or emoluments of public station, did something for his fellow-man.’
From such simple aspirations I was taken away by the free choice of my native Commonwealth, and placed in this responsible post of duty, without personal obligation of any kind, beyond what was implied in my life and published words.
The earnest friends, by whose confidence I was first designated, asked nothing from me, and, throughout the long conflict which ended in my election, rejoiced in the position which I most carefully guarded.
To all my language was uniform, that I did not desire to be brought forward; that I would do nothing to promote the result; that I had no pledges or promises to offer; that the office should seek me, and not I the office; and that it should find me in all respects an independent man, bound to no party and to no human being, but only, according to my best judgment, to act for the good of all. In this spirit I have come here, and in this spirit I shall speak to-day.
He early disclaims violence and discourtesy in debate, into whose indulgence he was never to be provoked.
Rejoicing in my independence, and claiming nothing from party ties, I throw myself upon the candor and magnanimity of the Senate.
I now ask your attention; but I trust not to abuse it. I may speak strongly; for I shall speak openly and from the strength of my convictions.
I may speak warmly; for I shall speak from the heart.
But in no event can I forget the amenities which belong to debate, and which especially become this body.
Slavery I must condemn with my whole soul; but here I need only borrow the language of slaveholders themselves; nor would it accord with my habits or my sense of justice to exhibit them as the impersonation of the institution—Jefferson calls it the ‘enormity’—which they cherish.
Of them I do not speak; but without fear and without favor, as without impeachment of any person,
[117]
I assail this wrong.
Again, sir, I may err; but it will be with the Fathers.
I plant myself on the ancient ways of the Republic, with its grandest names, its surest landmarks, and all its original altar-fires about me.
