When will rise that to-morrow’s sun, to witness that other sun filling the land with the light of Freedom?

For myself, let me confess, that, in presence of the mighty events now thronging, I feel how insignificant is any individual, whether citizen or Senator; and yet, humbly longing to do my part, I would not put off till to-morrow what ought to be done to-day,—especially can I not consent to this great postponement. Our fellow-men are in bonds: they must be relieved. Most beautiful that ancient story, where the philosopher, while on a mission to a great king for the release of captives, being invited to sup, replied in the famous words of Ulysses, “O Circe! what man of a right mind could let himself touch meat or drink before he had ransomed his companions and beheld them with his eyes?” The philosopher did not speak in vain. The captives were set free at once.[294]

Beyond my general desire to see an act of universal emancipation, at once and forever settling this great question, so that it may no longer be the occasion of strife between us, there are two other objects ever present to my mind as a practical legislator: first, to strike at Slavery wherever I can hit it; and, secondly, to clear the statute-book of all existing supports of Slavery, so that this great wrong may find nothing there to which it can cling for life. Less than this, at the present moment, when Slavery is still menacing, would be abandonment of duty.

So long as a single slave continues anywhere beneath the flag of the Republic, I am unwilling to rest. Too well I know the vitality of Slavery with its infinite capacity of propagation, and how little Slavery it takes to make a Slave State with all the cruel pretensions of Slavery. The down of a single thistle is full of all possible thistles, and a single fish is said to contain many millions of eggs, so that the whole sea may be stocked from its womb.

The modern founder of political science, Machiavelli, writer as well as statesman, in his most instructive work, the Discourses on Livy, has a chapter entitled, “For a Republic to have long life, it is necessary to bring it back often to its origin”:[295] where he shows how the native virtue in which a Republic was founded becomes so far corrupted that in process of time the body-politic is destroyed,—as in the case of the natural body, where, according to the doctors of medicine, something is daily added, from time to time requiring cure. The remarkable publicist teaches under this head that Republics are brought back to their origin, and to the principles in which they were founded, by pressure from without, where prudence fails within; and he affirms that the destruction of Rome by the Gauls was necessary, in order that the Republic might have a new birth, with new life and new virtue,—all of which ensued, when the barbarians were driven back. If the illustration is fanciful, there is wisdom in the counsel; and now the time has come for its application. The Gauls are upon us, not from a distance, but domestic Gauls, flinging their swords, like Brennus, into the scales; and we, too, may profit by the occasion to secure for the Republic a new birth, with new life and new virtue. Happily, the way is easy; for there is no doubt of its baptismal vows, or the declared sentiments of its origin. There is the Declaration of Independence: let its solemn promises be redeemed. There is the Constitution: let it speak according to the promises of the Declaration. Let it speak, and the last act of the great American tragedy will be ended, while the stage is piled with corpses. From its early beginning in the hold of the Dutch ship on its way to Jamestown, as the Pilgrims in the Mayflower were on their way to Plymouth, down to this bloody Rebellion, Slavery has been a prolonged tragedy. History and Art will hereafter portray the scenes. Nor can its death be otherwise than an epoch, not only for our own country, but for mankind. Slavery in its distant origin was the substitute for death. The slave was allowed to live, but without the rights of man. Instead of death in the grave with its insensibility and decay, there was death in life with constant degradation and suffering. Hence in all ages the awakened sympathies of the good and humane,—heard sometimes in sorrow for the unhappy fate of an individual, and then in appeal for a race.

How truly affecting are the words of Homer, depicting the wife of Hector toiling as bondwoman at the looms of her Grecian master,—or those other undying words which exhibit man in Slavery as shorn of half his worth! The story of Joseph sold by his brothers has been repeated in every form, touching innumerable hearts. Borrowed from the Bible, it figured in the moralities of the Middle Ages and in the later theatre of France. How genius triumphed over Slavery is part of this testimony. Æsop, the fabulist,—one of the world’s greatest teachers, if not lawgivers,—was a slave; so also was Phædrus, the Roman fabulist, whose lessons are commended by purity and elegance; and so, too, was Alcman, the lyric, who shed upon Sparta the grace of poesy. To these add Epictetus, sublime in morals,—and Terence, incomparable in comedy, who gave to the world that immortal verse, which excited the applause of the Roman theatre, “I am a man, and nothing which concerns mankind is foreign to me.” Nor should it be forgotten that the life of Plato was checkered by Slavery.

In later days the sympathy is more for a race than for individuals. Unhappily, the ban of color has become a certificate of Slavery, and a large portion of the human family, whose offence was a skin darkened by the hand of God, has been degraded to the condition of chattels. The sympathies once awakened only for illustrious gifts are now bestowed upon suffering humanity, marking an advance in civilization. To be a man is a sufficient title-deed for the rights of man, which we seek to establish. But their triumph among us will be the certain herald of triumph everywhere. In other places Slavery may linger yet a little longer; but its death here will make its continued existence impossible wherever civilization prevails.

Mr. President, the immediate question before us is on the proposition to prohibit Slavery in our country by Constitutional Amendment; and here I hope to be indulged with regard to the form it should take. A new text of the Constitution cannot be considered too carefully even in this respect, especially when it is nothing less than a new article of Freedom. For a moment we are performing something of that duty which belongs to the conditores imperiorum, placed foremost by Lord Bacon in “the degrees of sovereign honor,”[296] and “words” become “things.” From the magnitude of the task we may naturally borrow circumspection, and I approach this part of the question with suggestion rather than argument.

Let me say frankly that I should prefer a form of expression different from that having the favor of the Committee. They have selected what was intended for the old Jeffersonian Ordinance, sacred in our history, although, let me add, they have not imitated it closely. But I must be pardoned, if I venture to doubt the expediency of perpetuating in the Constitution language which, if it have any signification, seems to imply that “Slavery or involuntary servitude” may be provided for “the punishment of crime.” Instances anterior to the Constitution show the origin of this exception. In the absence of penitentiaries, Slavery was a punishment adjudged by courts. According to early Colonial records in Massachusetts, one William Andrews “was censured to be severely whipped and delivered up as a slave to whom the Court shall appoint.”[297] But it cannot be intended to sanction such judgment now. There can be no reason why Slavery should not be forbidden positively and without exception, especially as “imprisonment” cannot be confounded with this “peculiar” wrong. If my desires could prevail, I would put aside the Ordinance, and find another form.

I know nothing better than this:—

By the latter clause the declaration is plainly applicable to the States, while the earlier words assert the equality of all persons before the law,—a fruitful principle, assuring to all the same rights. Inter pares non est potestas, “Among equals there is no superiority,” is a received maxim of law, expressing a natural truth. Therefore, where all are equal, there can be no Slavery; so that, in declaring equality before the law, you make Slavery, alike with superiority, impossible. This language, though unknown to the Common Law and new in our country, has a fixed place in modern constitutional history. To understand how it has reached its present authority we must repair for a moment to France, so rich in experience and in genius.

Bills of Rights in England were moderate in terms, compared with our Declaration of Independence, and with the Declarations of Rights first announced by France in the throes of terrible revolution, and since recognized among the permanent triumphs of that prodigious outbreak. Until this period there had been no written Constitution in France, though since there have been many in succession. The earliest, in September, 1791, was preceded by a Declaration of Rights, proposed by Lafayette, which, after setting forth that “ignorance, forgetfulness, or contempt of the rights of man are the sole causes of public evils and of the corruption of Governments,” undertakes to announce what it calls “the natural rights of man, inalienable and sacred”; and this is done—

This too elaborate, but instructive preamble, is followed by an article with a generality of expression not unlike that of our own Declaration:—

In the sixth article of the Declaration this is explained by declaring that the law “ought to be the same for all, whether it protect, whether it punish,” and then it speaks of “all citizens being equal in its eyes.”[298]

In June, 1793, another Constitution was adopted, which, after a brief preamble, opens with these articles:—

Here the new statement begins to appear. Men are equal by nature and before the law.

“Equal before the law.” This term, which, by its essential accuracy and self-limitation, excludes all uncertainty, exaggeration, or vagueness, was already known in the literature of France. Voltaire, whose wonderful genius was so peculiarly French, with that constant clearness which is the boast of the French language, had used it in one of his philosophical poems, where political truth is commended in the manner of Pope. The first of these was in 1734, on “Equality of Conditions,” where he says, “Mortals are equal; their mask is different”; and then, “To have the same rights to happiness, this is for us the perfect and only equality”;[300] thus, like our Declaration of Independence, placing “the pursuit of happiness” among natural rights. This assertion of equal rights was defined in the poem on “The Law of Nature,” addressed to Frederick, King of Prussia, and written in 1752, where he says, “The law in every State ought to be universal; mortals, whoever they may be, are equal before it.” But I cite the precise words:—

This happy statement naturally passed from the poem to the Constitution.

It was much to declare equality; it was more still to do it with accuracy of form defying assault. This conquest of the Revolution assumed its most precise enunciation on the restoration of the Bourbons, when it appeared as the first article in the Constitutional Charter of Louis the Eighteenth, promulgated in 1814.

And it was repeated by Napoleon, April 22, 1815, on his return from Elba.[303]

At the installation of Louis Philippe as king, in August, 1830, with Lafayette by his side, the same declaration was placed at the head of the Constitutional Charter.[304]

Meanwhile this expression passed from France into the Constitutions of other countries: of Holland, in 1801, where the declaration was, “All members of society are equal before the law, without distinction of rank or birth”;[305] of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, created by Napoleon in 1807, where we meet these terms: “Slavery is abolished; all citizens are equal before the law”;[306] of the Canton of Zug, in Switzerland, in 1814, where, among “General Principles,” is the article, “All the citizens of the Canton are equal before the law, and there are no subjects in the Canton of Zug”;[307] of Bavaria, in 1818, where “equality of the rights of the citizens before the law” is enumerated in the preamble among “the principal features of the Constitution”;[308] of Bolivia, in South America, where in 1825 we meet the words, “All citizens are equal before the law”;[309] of Portugal, in 1826, where it is declared, “The law is equal for all, whether it protects, whether it punishes”;[310] of Brazil, where in the same year was a similar declaration;[311] and then of Greece, not only in the Provisional Constitution of 1822, but in the permanent Constitution of 1827, when the Greek nation “proclaims before God and before man its political existence and its independence,” and then among its fundamental principles declares, “All Greeks are equal before the law.”[312]

The French Revolution of 1830 quickened this statement anew. Belgium adopted it in 1831,[313] and even Austria in 1849; the latter power as follows: “All subjects are equal before the law, and judged according to the same fundamental rights”;[314] and Sardinia, in 1848, as follows: “All natives of the kingdom, whatever their titles or their rank, are equal before the law.”[315] The same words reappear in the Fundamental Statute of Italy, in 1861, when that classical land became a nation.[316]

Doubtless the extensive adoption of this formula testifies to its value in expressing an important principle, being nothing less than the primal truth declared by our fathers. All will confess its comparative precision. The sophistries of Calhoun, founded on the obvious inequalities of body and mind, are all overthrown by this simple statement, which, though borrowed latterly from France, is older than French history. I have had occasion before to remind the curious student that the ancient Greek of Herodotus supplies a single word for this phrase, when it is said that “the Government of the many has the most beautiful name of ἰσονομία,” or equality before the law.[317] The father of history was right. The name is most beautiful. But he did not see all its beauty; nor did the three Persian satraps, whose dialogue he reports,[318] know how great a truth was revealed. Not till after generations and ages had passed was equality before the law authoritatively declared; and now, while involving it as a rule, we repair to that bountiful Greek tongue, which, at that early day, by a single word, anticipated our modern exigency. Such a word, originally adopted in our Declaration of Independence, would have superseded criticism.

Enough has been said to explain the origin of a term which has played an important part. Though traced to distant antiquity, and now adopted in various countries, it derives its modern authority from France, where it is the “well-ripened fruit” of unprecedented experience in the discussion of great problems in political science. Naturally, it does not come from England; for the idea finds little favor in that hierarchical kingdom. In France Equality prevails more than Liberty: in England Liberty more than Equality. Here among us both should find a home; and such a declaration as I now propose, embodying Liberty and Equality, will keep the double idea perpetual in the public mind and conscience, “to warn, to comfort, and command.” The denial of Liberty in the Rebel States begins with the denial of Equality; so that our work is not completely done without the assertion of both principles.

In making Equality the fundamental principle, underlying Liberty itself, I follow reason and authority. Clearly, where all are equal, there can be no Slavery. Equality makes Slavery impossible, while it broadens Liberty into that community of right which is the essence of Republican Government. A remarkable French writer, La Boëtie, whose short life was brightened by the friendship of Montaigne, well exhibits the dependence of Liberty upon Equality. In his little work, “Voluntary Servitude,” which inspires astonishment in all who read it, while vindicating and exalting Liberty as derived from Nature, and setting forth how “this good mother” has given to us all the whole earth for a home, has lodged us all in the same house, has fashioned us all according to the same pattern, so that each can see and recognize one in another, and then, alluding to the gift of voice and speech for our better mutual acquaintance and fraternity, also to the means by which Nature ties and binds so strongly the knot of our alliance and society, also to the manifestation in all things that she did not wish so much to make us all united as all one, the precocious philosopher declares: “There can be no doubt that we are all naturally free, since we are all companions, and it cannot fall into any human head that Nature has put anybody in slavery, having put us all in company.”[319] Here is exhibited that controlling Equality which has prevailed in France.

A recent English publicist and professor exhibits also the predominance of this principle: I refer to Mr. Maine, who, in his work on “Ancient Law,” after tracing it to the jurisconsults of the Antonine era, and asserting that it “is one of a large number of legal propositions which in progress of time have become political,” attests the influence of France, which, according to him, is seen in our own Declaration of Independence, where what he calls “the specially French assumption,” that all men are born equal, is joined with what he calls “the assumption more familiar to Englishmen,” that all men are born free; and he adds, that, “of all the ‘principles of 1789,’ it is the one which has been least strenuously assailed, which has most thoroughly leavened modern opinion, and which promises to modify most deeply the constitution of societies and the politics of states.”[320] And now I venture to suggest that this guiding principle be recognized by us in words commended by usage and intrinsic character.

Should the Senate not incline to this form, there is still another I would suggest:—

This is simple, and avoids all language open to question. The word “Slavery” is explicit, and describes precisely what you propose to blast. There is no doubt with regard to its signification. It cannot be confounded with “the punishment of crime”; for imprisonment is not Slavery; nor can any punishment take the form of a wrong which stands by itself, peculiar, terrible, outrageous. Therefore nothing about punishment should find place in the rule we now ordain. Beyond this I would avoid technicality, which is out of place in such a text; and here I am encouraged by other examples. An early Constitution of France prohibited Slavery in every form, when it said: “Every man can engage his time and his services, but he cannot sell himself, nor be sold; his person is not alienable property.”[321] That of the Greek nation was equally thorough: “It is not permitted in Greece to sell or to buy men; every slave, whatever may be his nation or religion, is free from the time he puts foot on Greek territory.”[322] Nothing can be simpler than this prohibition in the Bavarian Constitution: “Servitude is everywhere suppressed”;[323] or than this in the Constitution of Wurtemberg: “Serfdom is forever abolished”;[324] or than this in the Constitution of the French Republic in November, 1848: “Slavery cannot exist upon any French soil.”[325] Nor can anything be more simple and thorough than these words from Hayti: “Slaves cannot exist on the territory of the Republic. Slavery there is forever abolished.”[326] Naturally a Republic of enfranchised slaves made this the first article of its Constitution, while sense as well as instinct supplied the form. And, Sir, in all these historic instances you will remark that there is nothing technical.

If the Senate is determined to follow the Jeffersonian Ordinance, then I prefer that it should be the Ordinance actually, and not as reported by the Committee. And I would complete the work by expelling from the Constitution all those words so often misconstrued, perverted, and tortured to a false support of Slavery.

But while desirous of seeing the great rule of Freedom we are about to ordain embodied in a text which shall be like the precious casket to the more precious treasure, yet I confess that I feel humbled by my own endeavors. And whatever the judgment of the Senate, I am consoled by the thought that the most homely text containing such a rule will be more beautiful far than any word of poet or orator, and will endure to be read with gratitude, when the lofty dome of this Capitol, with the statue of liberty which crowns it, has crumbled to earth.

CASTE AND PREJUDICE OF COLOR.

FINAL REPEAL OF ALL FUGITIVE SLAVE ACTS.

MR. PRESIDENT,—I shall not be carried into extended debate, but shall content myself with replying directly to what has been said on the other side.

There is, first, the Senator from Ohio [Mr. Sherman], who intervened to arrest the generous purpose of the Senate, as it was about to vote, by a motion to preserve the old Act of 1793. Strange that now, while we are in deadly conflict with Slavery, it should be proposed to keep alive an ancient support of Slavery. For the Senator gravely insists, and the Senator from Maryland [Mr. Reverdy Johnson] insists with him. But the Senator from Ohio does not seem aware of the character of the statute he would preserve. Let me remind him that by this enactment, towards which he is so tender, a fellow-man may be hurried before a magistrate and doomed to Slavery without trial by jury. Can this be constitutional? Will the Senator sanction such a thing?

Then the other Senator, who is so familiar with our jurisprudence, takes exception to the statement that Mr. Justice Story admitted that the constitutionality of the Act of 1793 had never been affirmed by the Supreme Court. He thinks that this learned judge never made any such statement. But he is mistaken. Here is a volume containing the Life and Letters of Joseph Story, carefully prepared and published by his son. I turn to the passage.

Evidently, according to this authentic record by his son, the necessity of a trial by jury was not argued by counsel nor considered by the Court, while the judge for himself declared that he should consider it an “open” question; so that the constitutionality of the Act in this important respect has not been affirmed. But the Senate is now asked to affirm it. We are asked to vote that a fellow-man be handed over to Slavery without trial by jury. To me this proposition is hateful beyond the power of words to express.

But the Senator, not content with affirming the constitutionality of the Act of 1793, has plunged into a general discussion on the fugitive clause of the Constitution. He insists laboriously that it was intended to cover fugitive slaves. When I reminded him that its authors might have intended it to cover fugitive slaves, without succeeding in their attempt, he still insists that it does cover fugitive slaves. Well, Sir, there I meet him point-blank. I insist, that, whatever the original intention of the framers of that clause, they did not leave it so as to cover fugitive slaves. It remains a question of construction, and the language employed is not applicable to fugitive slaves. It does not describe them, and cannot by any just tribunal be extended to embrace them. If the prepossessions of the Senator were more evenly balanced, I should not doubt his judgment on this point, which in the light of jurisprudence is so clear.

There is a rule of interpretation which the Senator will not call in question. Where any language is open to two constructions, one beneficent and the other odious, that which is odious must be rejected. I do not stop to adduce authorities. The rule is unquestionable, and the authorities are ample. But keep in mind the conclusion: that which is odious must be rejected. Now the Senator has already admitted that the language of the clause is applicable to apprentices. Very well. That is enough. In its application to apprentices, redemptioners, and the like, it is exhausted, so that it cannot be made to cover a slave without offending against the rule requiring us to adopt the construction least odious. And, Sir, if we go further and closely scan the clause, we find that the words employed are all applicable to a relation of contract or debt, and not to a relation founded on force. The clause is applicable to a “person,” and not to a thing, and this “person” is to be surrendered on claim of the person to whom his service or labor may be due. But, clearly, no labor or service can be due from slave to master. The whole pretension is an absurdity. And if you give to this word its legitimate application, you must restrict it to a case of contract or debt. In this reply I omit the argument founded on history, and the well-known opinions of leading minds in the Convention, confining myself to the text of the Constitution.

But the Senator dwells especially on the words “held to service or labor in one State under the laws thereof,” and triumphantly declares that slaves were included under this language. Here again he is mistaken. Apprentices and redemptioners were held under “laws”; but I need not remind the Senator of the admission repeatedly made on this floor by Mr. Mason, author of the last Fugitive Slave Act, that there were no “laws” for Slavery in any Slave State,—at least, that none could be produced. Besides, as a jurist, the Senator surely will recollect the ancient truth, that injustice cannot be “law,” but is always to be regarded as an “abuse” or a “violence,” even though expressed in the form of “law.” In presence of this principle, which has the sanction of as great a lawyer as St. Augustine, and in the face of the positive assertion of Mr. Mason, that no “law” for Slavery can be found in the Slave States, what becomes of the argument of the Senator? Sir, the case is clear. No ingenuity of honest effort can ever make the words cited by the Senator, or any other words in that much debated clause, sanction Slavery and the hunting of slaves. To proceed with his argument, the Senator must begin by setting aside those commanding rules of interpretation which are binding on him as on myself. If, where words are susceptible of two significations, one beneficent and the other odious, the former only can be taken, then must the Senator restrict this clause to that signification which is not odious. And again, if every word is always to be construed so as most to favor Liberty, then must the Senator follow implicitly this rule. But these two rules make it impossible to torture the clause into any odious or tyrannical signification. They keep it clean and pure from Slavery.

Sir, one feels humbled by the necessity of this discussion,—that at this late day he should be called to vindicate the Constitution of his country against glosses and interpretations in the interest of Slavery. Pardon me, if, for a moment, leaving the two Senators who seek to foist Slavery into the Constitution, I turn to the question itself, not so much for argument as for statement. If I seem to repeat, it is because there are certain points which I desire to impress upon the Senate. To my mind nothing is clearer than that, according to unquestionable rules of interpretation, the clause of the Constitution, whatever the alleged intent of its authors, cannot be considered applicable to slaves. Such is Slavery, that, from the nature of the case, it cannot be sanctioned or legalized except by “positive” words. It cannot stand on inference. This rule, which no reasoning can shake, drove Lord Mansfield to his great judgment in Somerset’s case. African Slavery had for two generations prevailed in England. Eminent lawyers and judges had pronounced it legal. Some of the brightest names in Westminster Hall had given to it the support of professional opinion and the seal of judicial decision. At last a person at that time unknown, Granville Sharp, struck by the injustice of Slavery, devoted himself to consider the grounds on which its legality was recognized. He studied the laws of England, and all the various evidences of its Constitution. In the course of these studies he was gratified to find that there was no positive establishment of African Slavery in England, and, indeed, that the words “Slave” and “Slavery” were nowhere to be found in the British Constitution. He next applied himself to the powerful array of well-known rules of interpretation, requiring, in case of doubt or question, that the interpretation should be on the side of Liberty, and especially that any man was “impious” and “cruel” who did not favor Liberty. Impiety and cruelty are not light burdens for an honest conscience. The conclusion was irresistible, that Slavery could not exist in England.

But the unanswerable argument of Granville Sharp was rejected at first by the bar, who regarded it as an attempted innovation. The direct precedents and the weight of authority were the other way, and this with most lawyers is enough. Harvey said that no person above “forty” accepted his discovery of the circulation of the blood. And Granville Sharp found himself in the same predicament. But this good man was not disheartened. He knew well that there was no statute of limitations against principles, and, better still, that principles must finally prevail over precedents. Principles are immortal, and bloom with perpetual youth: precedents are mortal, and die from age, decrepitude, and decay. Against principles precedents may for a while prevail; but the time comes when that which is mortal must yield to that which is immortal. In this conviction he persevered, until at last lawyers were convinced, and then the court pronounced in his favor.

The judgment of Lord Mansfield constitutes a landmark of law, to be remembered proudly, when all his contributions to commercial law and general jurisprudence are forgotten. It was a contribution to the British Constitution and to human rights. Like every principle of Natural Law, it approves itself at once to the reason and conscience. And this authority I now invoke in the interpretation of the Fugitive Clause.

I have already said too much. The argument on both sides is presented in the two reports of the Committee, or rather in the report of the Committee and the “views of the minority.” Senators, I doubt not, have already made up their minds, which no discussion can change. Of course, some may vote against the acts on one ground and some on another. The arguments are numerous. It is enough, if on any ground they vote to remove this shame from our statute-book.

I do not enter into details of the constitutional argument, whether Congress has power under the Constitution to legislate on this subject, or whether it may confide this great trust to a single magistrate without trial by jury. These are grave questions, worthy of debate, into which I am ready to enter, if the occasion requires. But I forbear. Often, in other times, I have discussed these questions in the Senate and before the people; but the time for discussion is passed. And permit me to confess my gladness in this day. I was chosen to the Senate for the first time immediately after the passage of the infamous Act of 1850. If at that election I received from the people of Massachusetts any special charge, it was to use my best endeavors to secure the repeal of this atrocity. I began the work in the first session that I was here. God grant that I may end it to-day!

Mr. President, one word more. The suggestion is too often made that this measure is not practical. Not practical! It is the favorite phrase. But this depends upon what Senators consider practical.

If it be practical to relieve the people from an unconstitutional and oppressive statute,—if it be practical to take away a badge of subjugation imposed by slave-masters during a brutal supremacy,—if it be practical to secure the good name of the Republic, still suffering immeasurably from this outrage,—if it be practical, at this moment of our own severe trial, to substitute justice for oppression, and thus secure the favor of Providence,—and, finally, if it be practical to strike at Slavery wherever we can hit it, and to relieve ourselves of all responsibility for this terrible wrong,—then is this measure eminently practical. It is as practical as justice, as practical as humanity, as practical as duty, which cannot be postponed.

But, independently of its intrinsic justice, this measure is recommended by an expediency of the highest character. I blush to plead in this way, but the occasion must be my apology. Senators are not aware how much our country suffers in the judgment of civilized nations from that accursed statute, which now for more than ten years has been a byword and hissing among men. Genius in some of its rarest creations has made it known, literature and art in every form have lent themselves to expose it, while the unutterable atrocities it has sanctioned have been carefully gathered together and circulated abroad as testimony against republican institutions. Since the outbreak of the Rebellion this statute has been constantly adduced by our enemies abroad, as showing that we are no better than Jefferson Davis and his slavemonger crew; for Slavery never shows itself worse than in the slave-hunter. Only within a few days there has appeared at New York, published for the fair, a photograph copy of a letter of the late Alexander von Humboldt, containing the following words: “I have the warmest attachment to your beautiful and liberal city, New York, but have earnestly and deeply regretted that Webster, whom I long respected, more than favored that shameful law which still persecuted colored men after they had regained by flight their natural, inborn liberty, of which they had been robbed by Christians.” Humboldt was our friend, but he could not forbear characterizing this statute as “shameful.” Be assured, Sir, it is a burden for the national cause abroad which it ought not to bear. For the sake of our cause, and that it may have new strength in the swelling sympathies of the civilized world, it should be repealed at once, without hesitation.

I confess, Sir, another motive. At this moment of severe trial, I wish my country to put itself right with that Supreme Power which holds in its hands the destinies of nations. It is as true in the life of nations as in the life of individuals, that, if you would have equity, you must do equity; but the great equity which we must do is found in justice to an oppressed race. It is vain that you complain of disaster to your arms, of colored soldiers and their brave officers cruelly treated at Fort Wagner, of colored soldiers and their brave officers massacred at Fort Pillow, if yourselves continue to set the example of injustice. The story of the Israelites is revived, and plague after plague is sent, sounding forever the old commandment, “Let my people go.” If the plagues sent already are not enough, another and yet another will visit us. There is one assurance of obedience which you can give. It is to expunge from your statute-book all support of Slavery. Be in earnest here, and you will be practical. Then, having done equity, you may fearlessly ask for equity.

I have already said more than I intended. It was my purpose to leave the Senate without a word of argument or persuasion. The case to my mind is too clear, and I thought the time had come for votes. And now, as I conclude, I forbear to press all constitutional objections, and present the whole question on a single ground. Slavery has struck at the national life. Let us strike back wherever we can smite the great offender, and above all let us purify the statute-book, so that there shall be nothing there out of which this terrible wrong can derive support. In the discharge of this duty, all Fugitive Acts should be repealed. The argument against one is the same against all.