Now I would simply observe, that my purpose was merely to make a statement——

Mr. Benjamin. I call to order.

The Presiding Officer. The Senator had presented his bill, and was debating it afterwards. The question is on the motion of the Senator from Louisiana to lay the appeal on the table, and on that the yeas and nays have been ordered.

The Presiding Officer. The question now is on granting leave to introduce the bill.

Mr. Sumner. On that question I ask for the yeas and nays.

Mr. Stuart. I rise to a question of order; and I think, if the Chair will consider it for the moment, he will, or at least I hope he will, agree with me. The parliamentary law is the law under which the Senate act. Whenever there is a motion made to lay on the table a subject connected with the main subject, and it prevails, it carries the whole question with it. It is different entirely from the rules in the House of Representatives. The rules in the House vary the parliamentary law, and you may there move to lay a matter on the table, because that is the final vote, and is equivalent to rejecting it, and a motion to take it up from the table is not in order. But now the Presiding Officer will see, that, if this course be pursued, the Senate may grant leave to introduce this bill, they may go on and pass it, and yet next week it will be in order for the Senator from Massachusetts to move to take up the appeal which the Senate has just laid on the table; whereas the whole subject on which his appeal rested might have been passed and sent to the other House. That surely cannot be so. The ruling of the Chair in this respect, therefore, I suggest is wrong, and the motion to lay on the table carries the whole subject with it. It is important to have the matter settled for the future practice of the Senate.

The Presiding Officer. At the first mooting of the proposition, the Chair was of that opinion; but he is perfectly satisfied now that it did not carry the whole question with it. The question was on the motion to lay the appeal on the table, and that motion was exhausted when it did lay the appeal on the table. It did not reach back to affect the question of granting leave. That is now the question before the Senate. On that the yeas and nays have been asked for by the Senator from Massachusetts.

Mr. Stuart. I will not take an appeal from the decision of the Chair, but I only wish to say, that, as I am satisfied I am right, I do not wish, by acquiescing in the decision of the Chair, to embarrass us when such occasions may arise again.

DUTIES OF MASSACHUSETTS AT THE PRESENT CRISIS. FORMATION OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY.

Speech before the Republican State Convention at Worcester, September 7, 1854.

This was followed by another letter from Mr. Andrew, dated August 28, 1854, as follows.

"I, however, wish to have the authority now to say definitely to all inquirers that you will be present on the 7th, and address the convention, and I wish this to be considered as a formal and official invitation. There are constant references made to the hope of seeing and hearing you there, on all hands. Everybody counts for that gratification. And we can do nothing which will so completely secure a triumphant gathering as to announce your name. The whole Free-Soil party, proud of your recent achievements, and grateful for the many exhibitions of your devotedness to our principles at all times of hazard and necessity, and the people of all parties, who feel you to have been the most conspicuously representative man to whom Massachusetts has intrusted her interest in Congress since the death of John Quincy Adams, are alike anxious to greet you.

"I do not wish you to feel under the necessity of preparing for one of your greatest speeches. No one will demand that of you. They only want you to come, and to say what seems to yourself proper to say at the time."

Mr. President, and Fellow-Citizens of Massachusetts:—

After months of constant, anxious service in another place, away from Massachusetts, I am permitted to stand among you again, my fellow-citizens, and to draw satisfaction and strength from your generous presence. [Applause.] Life is full of change and contrast. From slave soil I have come to free soil. [Applause.] From the tainted breath of Slavery I have passed into this bracing air of Freedom. [Applause.] And the heated antagonism of debate, shooting forth its fiery cinders, is changed into this brimming, overflowing welcome, while I seem to lean on the great heart of our beloved Commonwealth, as it palpitates audibly in this crowded assembly. [Loud and long applause.]

Let me say at once, frankly and sincerely, that I am not here to receive applause or to give occasion for tokens of public regard, but simply to unite with fellow-citizens in new vows of duty. [Applause.] And yet I would not be thought insensible to the good-will now swelling from so many honest bosoms. It touches me more than I can tell.

During the late session of Congress, an eminent supporter of the Nebraska Bill said to me, with great animation, in language which I give with some precision, that you may appreciate the style as well as the sentiment, "I would not go through all that you do on this nigger question for all the offices and honors of the country." To which I naturally and promptly replied, "Nor would I,—for all the offices and honors of the country." [Laughter and long applause.] Not in such things are the inducements to this warfare. For myself, if I have been able to do aught in any respect not unworthy of you, it is because I thought rather of those commanding duties which are above office and honor. [Cries of "Good! good!" and loud applause.]

And now, on the eve of an important election in this State, we are assembled to take counsel how best to perform those duties which we owe to our common country. We are to choose eleven Representatives in Congress,—also, Governor, Lieutenant-Governor, and members of the Legislature, which last will choose a Senator of the United States, to uphold, for five years ensuing, the principles and honor of Massachusetts. If in these elections you were governed by partialities or prejudices, personal or political, or merely by the exactions of party, I should have nothing to say now, except to dismiss you to the ignoble work. ["That is it!" "Good! good!"] But I assume that you are ready to renounce these influences, and press forward with single regard to the duties now incumbent.

Here two questions occur, absorbing all others: first, what are our political duties here in Massachusetts at the present time? and, secondly, how, and by what agency, shall they be performed? What and how? These are the two questions, of which I shall briefly speak in their order, attempting no elaborate discussion, but aiming to state the case so that it will be intelligible to all who hear me.

And first, what are our present duties here in Massachusetts? Unfolding these, I need not dwell on the wrong and shame of Slavery, or on the character of the Slave Power—that Oligarchy of Slaveholders—now ruling the Republic. These you understand. And yet there are two outrages, fresh in recollection, which I must not fail to expose, as natural manifestations of Slavery and the Slave Power. One is the repeal of the Prohibition of Slavery in the vast Missouri Territory, now known as Kansas and Nebraska, contrary to time-honored compact and plighted faith. The other is the seizure of Anthony Burns on the free soil of Massachusetts, and his surrender, without judge or jury, to a Slave-Hunter from Virginia, to be thrust back into perpetual bondage. ["Shame! shame!"] These outrages cry aloud to Heaven, and to you, people of Massachusetts! [Sensation.] Their intrinsic wickedness is enhanced by the way in which they were accomplished. Of the first I know something from personal observation; of the latter I am informed only by public report.

It is characteristic of the Slave Power not to stick at the means supposed needful in carrying forward its plans; but never, on any occasion, were its assumptions so barefaced and tyrannical as in the passage of the Nebraska Bill.

This bill was precipitated upon Congress without one word of public recommendation from the President, without notice or discussion in any newspaper, and without a single petition from the people. It was urged by different advocates, on two principal arguments, so opposite and inconsistent as to slap each other in the face [laughter]: one, that, by the repeal of the Prohibition, the territory would be absolutely open to the entry of slaveholders with their slaves; and the other, that the people there would be left to determine whether slaveholders should enter with their slaves. With some, the apology was the alleged rights of slaveholders; with others, the alleged rights of the people. With some, it was openly the extension of Slavery; and with others, openly the establishment of Freedom, under the pretence of "popular sovereignty." The measure thus upheld in defiance of reason was carried through Congress in defiance of all the securities of legislation.

It was carried, first, by whipping in, through Executive influence and patronage, men who acted against their own declared judgment and the known will of their constituents; secondly, by thrusting out of place, both in the Senate and House of Representatives, important business, long pending, and usurping its room; thirdly, by trampling under foot the rules of the House of Representatives, always before the safeguard of the minority; and, fourthly, by driving it to a close during the present Congress, so that it might not be arrested by the indignant voice of the people. Such were some of the means by which the Nebraska Bill was carried. If the clear will of the people had not been defied, it could not have passed. If the Government had not nefariously interposed, it could not have passed. If it had been left to its natural place in the order of business, it could not have passed. If the rules of the House and the rights of the minority had not been violated, it could not have passed. If it had been allowed to go over to another Congress, when the people might be heard, it would have failed, forever failed.

Contemporaneously with the final triumph of this outrage at Washington, another dismal tragedy was enacted at Boston. In those streets where he had walked as freeman Anthony Burns was seized as slave, under the base pretext that he was a criminal,—imprisoned in the Court-House, which was turned for the time into fortress and barracoon,—guarded by heartless hirelings, whose chief idea of Liberty was license to wrong [loud applause, and cries of "That's it! that's it!"],—escorted by intrusive soldiers of the United States,—watched by a prostituted militia,—and finally given up to a Slave-Hunter by the decree of a petty magistrate, who did not hesitate to take upon his soul the awful responsibility of dooming a fellow-man, in whom he could find no fault, to a fate worse than death. How all this was accomplished I need not relate. Suffice it to say, that, in doing this deed of woe and shame, the liberties of all our citizens, white as well as black, were put in jeopardy, the Mayor of Boston was converted to a tool [applause], the Governor of the Commonwealth to a cipher [long continued applause], the laws, the precious sentiments, the religion, the pride and glory of Massachusetts were trampled in the dust, and you and I and all of us fell down while the Slave Power flourished over us. ["Shame! shame!" and applause.]

These things in themselves are bad, very bad; but they are worse, when regarded as natural offspring of the Oligarchy now swaying the country. And it is this Oligarchy which, at every political hazard, we must oppose, until it is overthrown. Lord Chatham once exclaimed, that the time had been, when he was content to bring France to her knees; now he would not stop till he had laid her on her back. Nor can we be content with less in our warfare. We must not stop till we have laid the Slave Power on its back. [Prolonged cheers.] And, fellow-citizens, permit me to say, not till then will the Free States be absolved from all political responsibility for Slavery, and relieved from that corrupt spirit of compromise which now debases at once their politics and their religion; nor till then will there be repose for the country. [Immense cheering.] Indemnity for the past and security for the future must be our watchwords. [Applause.] But these can be obtained only when Slavery is dispossessed of present vantage-ground, by driving it back exclusively within the limits of the States, and putting the National Government, everywhere within its constitutional sphere, openly, actively, and perpetually on the side of Freedom. The consequences of this change of policy would be of far-reaching and incalculable beneficence. Not only would Freedom become national and Slavery sectional, as was intended by our fathers, but the National Government would become the mighty instrument and herald of Freedom, as it is now the mighty instrument and herald of Slavery. Its powers, its treasury, its patronage, would all be turned, in harmony with the Constitution, to promote Freedom. The Committees of Congress, where Slavery now rules,—Congress itself, and the Cabinet also,—would all be organized for Freedom. The hypocritical disguise or renunciation of Antislavery sentiment would cease to be necessary for the sake of political preferment; and the Slaveholding Oligarchy, banished from the National Government, and despoiled of ill-gotten political consequence, without ability to punish or reward, would cease to be feared, either at the North or the South, until at last the citizens of the Slave States, where a large portion have no interest in Slavery, would demand Emancipation, and the great work would commence. Such is the obvious course of things. To the overthrow of the Slave Power we are summoned by a double call, one political and the other philanthropic,—first, to remove an oppressive tyranny from the National Government, and, secondly, to open the gates of Emancipation in the Slave States. [Loud applause.]

While keeping this great purpose in view, we must not forget details. The existence of Slavery anywhere within the national jurisdiction, in the Territories, in the District of Columbia, or on the high seas beneath the national flag, is an unconstitutional usurpation, which must be opposed. The Fugitive Slave Bill, monstrous in cruelty, as in unconstitutionality, is a usurpation, which must be opposed. The admission of new Slave States, from whatsoever quarter, from Texas or Cuba [applause], Utah or New Mexico, must be opposed. And to every scheme of Slavery, whether in Cuba or Mexico, on the high seas in opening the slave-trade, in the West Indies, or in the Valley of the Amazon, whether accomplished or merely plotted, whether pending or in prospect, we must send forth an everlasting NO! [Long continued applause.] Such is the present, immediate duty of Massachusetts, without compromise or hesitation.

Thus far I have spoken of duties in national matters; but there are other duties of pressing importance, here at home, not to be forgotten or postponed. It is often said that charity should begin at home. Better say, charity should begin everywhere. While contending with the Slave Power on the broad field of national politics, we must not forget the duty of protecting the liberty of all who tread the soil of Massachusetts. [Immense cheering.] Early in Colonial history Massachusetts set her face against Slavery. At the head of her Declaration of Rights she solemnly asserted that all men are born free and equal, and in the same Declaration surrounded the liberties of all within her borders by the inestimable rights of Trial by Jury and Habeas Corpus. Recent events on her own soil have taught the necessity of new safeguards to these great principles,—to the end that Massachusetts may not be the vassal of South Carolina and Virginia, that the Slave-Hunter may not range at will among us, and that the liberties of all may not be violated with impunity.

I am admonished that I must not dwell longer on these things. Suffice it to say that our duties in National and State affairs are identical, and may be described by the same formula: In the one case to put the National Government, in all its departments, and in the other case the State Government, in all its departments, openly, actively, and perpetually on the side of Freedom. [Loud applause.]

Having considered what our duties are, the question now presses, How shall they be performed?—by what agency, by what instrumentality, in what way?

The most obvious way is by choosing men to represent us in the National Government, and also at home, who will recognize these duties, and be ever loyal to them [cheers],—men who at Washington will not shrink from conflict with Slavery, and also other men who at home in Massachusetts will not shrink from the same conflict when the Slave-Hunter appears. [Loud applause, and cries of "Good! good!"] In the choice of men we are driven to the organization of parties; and here the question arises, By what form of organization, or by what party, can these men be best secured? Surely not by the Democratic party, as at present constituted [laughter]: though, if this party were true to its name, pregnant with human rights, it would leave little to be desired. In this party there are doubtless individuals anxious to do all in their power against Slavery; but indulge me in saying, that, so long as they continue members of a party which upholds the Nebraska Bill, they can do very little. [Applause and laughter.] What may we expect from the Whig party? [A voice, "Resolutions."] If more might be expected from the Whig party than the Democratic party, candor must attribute much of the difference to the fact that the Whigs are out of power, while the Democrats are in power. [Long continued cheers.] If the cases were reversed, and the Whigs were in power, as in 1850, I fear, that, notwithstanding the ardor of individuals and the Resolutions of Conventions [great laughter],—made, I fear, too often, merely to be broken,—the party might be brought to sustain an outrage as great as the Fugitive Slave Bill. [Laughter and applause.] But, without dwelling on these things (to which I allude with diffidence, and, I trust, in no uncharitable temper or partisan spirit), I desire to say that no party which calls itself National, according to the common acceptation of the word,—which leans upon a slaveholding wing [cheers], or is in combination with slaveholders [cheers],—can at this time be true to Massachusetts. [Great applause.] And the reason is obvious. It can be presented so as to penetrate the most common understanding. The essential element of such a party, whether declared or concealed, is Compromise; but our duties require all constitutional opposition to Slavery and the Slave Power, without Compromise. ["That's it!" "Good! good!"] It is difficult, then, to see how we can rely upon the Whig party.

To the true-hearted, magnanimous citizens ready to place Freedom above Party, and their Country above Politicians, I appeal. [Immense cheering.] Let them leave old parties, and blend in an organization which, without compromise, will maintain the good cause surely to the end. Here in Massachusetts a large majority concur in sentiment on Slavery,—a large majority desire the overthrow of the Slave Power. These must not scatter their votes, but unite in one firm, consistent phalanx [applause], whose triumph will constitute an epoch of Freedom, not only in this Commonwealth, but throughout the land. Such an organization is presented by this Republican Convention, which announces its purpose to coöperate with the friends of Freedom in other States. [Cheers.] As REPUBLICANS, we go forth to encounter the Oligarchs of Slavery. [Great applause.]

Through this organization we shall secure the election of men who, unseduced and unterrified, will at Washington uphold the principles of Freedom,—and also here at home, in our own community, by example, influence, and vote, will help invigorate Massachusetts. I might go further, and say that by no other organization can we reasonably hope to obtain such men, unless in rare and exceptional cases.

Men are but instruments. It will not be enough to choose those who are loyal. Other things must be done here at home. In the first place, all existing laws for the protection of human freedom must be rigorously enforced [applause, and cries of "Good!"]; and since these are found inadequate, there must be new laws for this purpose within the limits of the Constitution. Massachusetts will do well in following Vermont, which by special law places the fugitive slave under the safeguard of Trial by Jury and the writ of Habeas Corpus. But a Legislature true to Freedom will not fail in remedies. [Applause.] A simple prohibition, declaring that no person, holding the commission of Massachusetts as Justice of the Peace, or other magistrate, shall assume to act as a Slave-Hunting Commissioner, or as counsel of any Slave-Hunter, under some proper penalty, would go far to render the existing Slave Act inoperative. [Applause.] There are not many so fond of this base trade as to continue in it, when the Commonwealth sets upon it a legislative brand.

Besides more rigorous legislation, Public Opinion must be invoked to step forward and throw over the fugitive its protecting ægis. A Slave-Hunter will then be a by-word and reproach; and all his instruments, especially every one who volunteers in this vileness without positive obligation of law, will naturally be regarded as part of his pack, and share the ignominy of the chief hunter. [Laughter and cheers.] And now, from authentic example, drawn out of recent history, learn how the Slave-Hunter may be palsied by contrition. I take the story from late letters on Neapolitan affairs by the eminent English statesman, Mr. Gladstone, who has copied it from an Italian writer. A most successful member of the Neapolitan police, Bolza, of the hateful tribe known as sbirri, whose official duties involved his own personal degradation and the loathing of others, has left a record of the acute sense retained of his shame by even such a man. "I absolutely forbid my heirs," says this penitent official, "to allow any mark, of whatever kind, to be placed over the spot of my burial,—much more any inscription or epitaph. I recommend my dearly beloved wife to impress upon my children the injunction, that, in soliciting any employment from Government, they shall ask for it elsewhere than in the executive police, and not, unless under extraordinary circumstances, to give her consent to the marriage of any of my daughters with a member of that service."[135] Thus testifies the Italian instrument of legal wrong. Let public opinion here in Massachusetts once put forth its might, and every instrument of the Fugitive Slave Act will feel a kindred shame. [Great applause.] They will resign. When, under the heartless Charles the Second of England, the Act of Uniformity went into operation, upwards of two thousand pulpits were vacated by the voluntary withdrawal of men who thought it better to face starvation than treachery to their Master. Here is an example for us. Let magistrates and officers, called to enforce a cruel injustice, take notice.

It is sometimes gravely urged, that, since the Supreme Court of the United States has affirmed the constitutionality of the Fugitive Act, there only remains to us, in all places, whether in public station or in private life, the duty of absolute submission. Yes, Sir, that is the assumption, which you will perceive is applied to the humblest citizen who holds no office and has taken no oath to support the Constitution, as well as to the public servant who is under the special obligations of an official oath. Now, without stopping to consider the soundness of the judgment affirming the constitutionality of this Act, let me say that the Constitution, as I understand it, exacts no such passive obedience. In taking the oath to support the Constitution, it is as I understand it, and not as other men understand it. [Loud applause.]

In adopting this rule, first authoritatively enunciated by Andrew Jackson, when, as President of the United States, in the face of the Supreme Court, he asserted the unconstitutionality of the Bank, I desire to be understood as not acting hastily. Let me add, that, if it needed other authority in its support, it has the sanction also of the distinguished Cabinet by which he was then surrounded, among whom were that unsurpassed jurist, Edward Livingston, Secretary of State, and that still living exemplar of careful learning and wisdom, Roger B. Taney, then Attorney-General, now Chief-Justice of the United States. Beyond these, it has the unquestionable authority of Thomas Jefferson, by whom it was asserted again and again as a rule of conduct. Thus, if any person at this day be disposed to deal sharply with me on account of the support which I now most conscientiously give to this rule, let him remember that his thrusts will pierce not only myself, the humblest of its supporters, but also the great fame of Andrew Jackson and of Thomas Jefferson,—patriots both of eminent life and authority, on whose Atlantean shoulders this principle of Constitutional Law will ever firmly rest.

Reason here is in harmony with authority. From the necessity of the case I must swear to support the Constitution either as I do understand it or as I do NOT understand it. [Laughter.] But the absurdity of dangling on the latter horn of the dilemma compels me to take the former, and there is a natural end of the argument. [Great laughter and cheers.] Is there a person in Congress or out of it, in the National Government or State Government, who, when this inevitable alternative is presented, will venture to say that he swears to support the Constitution as he does not understand it? [Laughter and applause.] The supposition is too preposterous. But let me ask gentlemen disposed to abandon their own understanding of the Constitution, and to submit their conscience to the standard of other men, By whose understanding do they swear? Surely not by that of the President: this is not alleged: but by the understanding of the Supreme Court. In other words, to this Court, being at present nine persons,—represented by a simple majority, it may be of one only,—is accorded the power of fastening such interpretation as they see fit upon any part of the Constitution,—adding to it, or subtracting from it, or positively varying its requirements,—actually making and unmaking the Constitution; and to their work all good citizens must bow, as of equal authority with the original instrument, ratified by solemn votes of the whole people! [Great applause.] If this be so, the oath to support the Constitution is hardly less offensive than the famous "et cætera" oath devised by Archbishop Laud, where the subject swore to certain specified things, with an "&c." added. Such an oath I have not taken. ["Good! good!"] An old poet anticipates my objection:—

The power of our Supreme Court is great, and its sphere is vast; but there are limits to its power and its sphere. According to the Constitution, "the judicial power shall extend to all cases in law and equity, arising under the Constitution, the laws of the United States, and treaties"; but it by no means follows that the interpretation of the Constitution, incident to the trial of these "cases," is final. Of course, the judgment in the "case" actually pending is final, as the settlement of a controversy, for weal or woe, to the litigating parties; but as a precedent it is not final even on the Supreme Court itself. When cited afterwards, it will be regarded with respect as an interpretation of the Constitution, and, if nothing appears against it, of controlling authority; but, at any day, in any litigation, at the trial of any "case," it will be within the unquestionable competency of the Court to review its own decision, so far as it establishes any interpretation of the Constitution. If the Court itself be not constrained by its own precedents, how can coördinate branches, under oath to support the Constitution, and, like the Court itself, called incidentally to interpret the Constitution, be constrained by them? In both instances, the power to interpret is simply incident to other principal duties, as the trial of "cases," the making of laws, or the administration of government; and it seems as plainly incident to a "case" of legislation or of administration as to a "case" of litigation. And on this view I shall act with entire confidence, under the oath I have taken.

For myself, let me say, that I hold judges, and especially the Supreme Court, in much respect; but I am too familiar with the history of judicial proceedings to regard them with any superstitious reverence. [Sensation.] Judges are but men, and in all ages have shown a full share of human frailty. Alas! alas! the worst crimes of history have been perpetrated under their sanction. The blood of martyrs and of patriots, crying from the ground, summons them to judgment. It was a judicial tribunal which condemned Socrates to drink the fatal hemlock, and which pushed the Saviour barefoot over the pavements of Jerusalem, bending beneath his cross. It was a judicial tribunal which, against the testimony and entreaties of her father, surrendered the fair Virginia as a slave,—which arrested the teachings of the great Apostle to the Gentiles, and sent him in bonds from Judæa to Rome,—which, in the name of the Old Religion, persecuted the saints and fathers of the Christian Church, and adjudged them to a martyr's death, in all its most dreadful forms,—and afterwards, in the name of the New Religion, enforced the tortures of the Inquisition, amidst the shrieks and agonies of its victims, while it compelled Galileo to declare, in solemn denial of the great truth he had disclosed, that the earth did not move round the sun. It was a judicial tribunal which, in France, during the long reign of her monarchs, lent itself to be the instrument of every tyranny, as during the brief Reign of Terror it did not hesitate to stand forth the unpitying accessary of the unpitying guillotine. Ay, Sir, it was a judicial tribunal in England, surrounded by all forms of law, which sanctioned every despotic caprice of Henry the Eighth, from the unjust divorce of his queen to the beheading of Sir Thomas More,—which lighted the fires of persecution that glowed at Oxford and Smithfield, over the cinders of Latimer, Ridley, and John Rogers,—which, after elaborate argument, upheld the fatal tyranny of ship money against the patriot resistance of Hampden,—which, in defiance of justice and humanity, sent Sidney and Russell to the block,—which persistently enforced the laws of Conformity that our Puritan fathers persistently refused to obey, and afterwards, with Jeffreys on the bench, crimsoned the pages of English history with massacre and murder, even with the blood of innocent women. Ay, Sir, it was a judicial tribunal in our own country, surrounded by all forms of law, which hung witches at Salem,—which affirmed the constitutionality of the Stamp Act, while it admonished "jurors and people" to obey,—and which now, in our day, lends its sanction to the unutterable atrocity of the Fugitive Slave Act. [Long continued applause, and three cheers for Sumner.]

Of course judgments of courts are binding upon inferior tribunals, and their own executive officers, whose virtue does not prompt them to resign rather than aid in executing an unjust mandate. Over all citizens, whether in public or private station, they will naturally exert, as precedents, an impartial influence. This I admit. But no man, who is not lost to self-respect, and ready to abandon that manhood which is shown in the Heaven-directed countenance, will voluntarily aid in enforcing a judgment which in conscience he believes wrong. He will not hesitate "to obey God rather than men," and calmly abide the peril he provokes. Not lightly, not rashly, will he take the grave responsibility of open dissent; but if the occasion requires, he will not fail. Pains and penalties may be endured, but wrong must not be done. [Cheers.] "Where I cannot obey I am willing to suffer," was the exclamation of the author of "Pilgrim's Progress," when imprisoned for disobedience to an earthly statute. Elsewhere I have said what I now repeat and proclaim on the house-top. Better suffer injustice than do it. Better be even the poor slave returned to bondage than the unhappy Commissioner. [Applause and sensation.]

I repeat, judges are but men, and I know no difference between the claim of power now made for them and that other insulting pretension put forth sometimes in the name of a king and sometimes of a people. Listen to what King James of England once wrote: "It is atheism and blasphemy to dispute what God can do: good Christians content themselves with his will revealed in his word. So it is presumption and high contempt in a subject to dispute what a king can do, or say that a king cannot do this or that: but rest in that which is the king's revealed will in his law."[137] Thus wrote one who was called "the wisest fool of Christendom." And so we are to rest in that popular will revealed in the Fugitive Slave Act, and ratified by the Supreme Court. The rabble of revolutionary France, in a spirit kindred to that of King James, cried out, as the executioner's cart tracked its way in blood, "We can do what we please,"—adding, "There is no God." Of course, if there were no God, they could not do as they pleased; nor could the king, whose pretension for himself was no better than that of the rabble. But there is a God, to be obeyed in all things, although kings, people, and even courts, assert the contrary.

The whole dogma of passive obedience must be rejected, whatever guise it assumes, under whatever alias it skulks,—whether in tyrannical usurpations of king, parliament, or judicial tribunal,—whether in exploded theories of Sir Robert Filmer, or rampant assumptions of the Fugitive Slave Act. The rights of the civil power are limited; there are things beyond its province; there are matters out of its control; there are cases in which the faithful citizen may say,—ay, must say,—"I will not obey." One of the highest flights of Mirabeau was, when, addressing the National Assembly of France, he protested against a law then pending, and exclaimed, "If you make such a law, I swear never to obey it!"[138] No man now responds to the words of Shakespeare, "If a king bid a man be a villain, he is bound by the indenture of his oath to be one." Nor, in this age of civilization and liberty, will any prudent reasoner, who duly considers the rights of conscience, claim for any earthly magistrate or tribunal, howsoever styled, a power which the loftiest monarch of a Christian throne, wearing on his brow "the round and top of sovereignty," dare not assert.

On this twofold conclusion I rest, and do not doubt the final result. The citizen who has sworn to support the Constitution is constrained to support it simply as he understands it. The citizen whose private life has kept him from assuming the obligations of official oath may bravely set at nought the unrighteous ruling of a magistrate, and, so doing, he will serve justice, though he expose himself to stern penalties.

Fellow-citizens of Massachusetts, our own local history is not without encouragement. In early colonial days, the law against witchcraft, now so abhorrent to reason and conscience, was regarded as constitutional and binding,—precisely as the Fugitive Slave Act, not less abhorrent to reason and conscience, is regarded as constitutional and binding. A special Court of Oyer and Terminer, with able judges, whose names are entwined with our history, enforced this law at Salem by the execution of nineteen persons as witches,—precisely as petty magistrates, acting under sanction of the Supreme Court of the United States, and also of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, have enforced the Fugitive Act by the reduction of two human beings to slavery. The clergy of Massachusetts, particularly near Boston, and also Harvard College, were for the law. "Witchcraft," shouted Cotton Mather from the pulpit, "is the most nefandous high treason," "a capital crime,"—even as opposition to the Fugitive Act has been denounced as "treason." [Laughter.]

But the law against witchcraft was not triumphant long. The General Court of the Province first became penitent, and asked pardon of God for "all the errors of his servants and people in the late tragedy." Jurymen united in condemning and lamenting the delusion to which they had yielded under the decision of the judges, and acknowledged that they had brought the reproach of wrongful bloodshed on their native land. Sewall, one of the judges, and author of the early tract against Slavery, "The Selling of Joseph," whose name lives freshly in his liberty-loving descendant [Hon. S.E. Sewall] [applause], stood up in his place at church, before the congregation, and implored the prayers of the people, that the errors he had committed might not be visited by the judgments of an avenging God on his country, his family, or himself. And now, in a manuscript diary of this departed judge, may be read, on the margin against the contemporary record, in his own handwriting, words of saddest interjection and sorrow: Væ! væ! væ! Woe! woe! woe![139] [Sensation.]

The parallel between the law against witchcraft and the Fugitive Act is not yet complete. It remains for our Legislature, successor of that original General Court, to lead the penitential march. [Laughter.] In the slave cases there have been no jurymen to recant [laughter]; and it is too much, perhaps, to expect any magistrate who sanctioned the cruelty to imitate by public penitence the magnanimity of other days. Yet it is not impossible that future generations may be permitted to read, in some newly exhumed diary or letter by one of these troubled functionaries, words of woe not unlike those wrung from the soul of Sewall. [Sensation.]

Fellow-citizens, one word in conclusion: Be of good cheer. ["That's it!"] I know well the difficulties and responsibilities of the contest; but not on this account do I bate a jot of heart or hope. [Applause.] At this time, in our country, there is little else to tempt into public life an honest man, who wishes, by something that he has done, to leave the world better than he found it. There is little else to afford any of those satisfactions which an honest man can covet. Nor is there any cause which so surely promises final success. There is nothing good—not a breathing of the common air—which is not on our side. Ours, too, are those great allies described by the poet,—