DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS WITH THE REPUBLIC OF DOMINICA.

PROTECTION OF CIVIL RIGHTS.

As I understand it, this bill, which, as the Senator will see, actually annuls all State laws, everywhere throughout the United States, fixing any inequality in civil rights, is founded upon the second clause of the recent Amendment to the Constitution abolishing Slavery. Now the point to which I ask the attention of the Senator, before he passes from this branch of the discussion, is, whether, if we can annul all State laws declaring inequality in civil rights, we cannot also annul all State laws declaring inequality in political rights? whether, if this bill is constitutional, as I believe it is, such a bill as I propose would not also be constitutional? And in this connection I call attention to the famous judgment of Chief Justice Marshall, which the Senator remembers so well, in the case of M’Culloch v. The State of Maryland,[216] where the Chief Justice distinctly announces, having the point before him, that it is within the power of Congress to select its means, provided the means are appropriate to the end, and it is not for the Supreme Court, or any other branch of the Government, to sit in judgment on the means Congress chose to select. Therefore, if Congress now think, that, to enforce the abolition of Slavery, it is necessary, in the first place, to annul all inequality of civil rights, and, in the second place, to annul all inequality of political rights, I ask the Senator whether the latter proposition can be called in question?—whether an Act of Congress annulling all State laws declaring inequality of political rights is not absolutely constitutional, being “appropriate legislation” to enforce the Constitutional Amendment?

My argument is, that, if, to carry out the prohibition of Slavery, and to complete the duty of Abolition, it shall be regarded necessary to confer the franchise, it is within the power of Congress so to do. And now I ask my honorable friend to give the Senate the benefit of his opinion on this precise point. If Congress, under the Constitutional Amendment, can secure equality of civil rights, may it not, a fortiori, secure equality in political rights, under the same clause? I do not ask the Senator whether in his opinion it may under that clause confer equality in civil rights. I assume that it can, and the Senator knows well that the Senate has acted accordingly. Senators all about me assume that power; and now I ask the Senator, as a Constitutional lawyer to whom we refer daily, whether, if you can do the one, you cannot do the other?

If I have not taken part in this debate, it is not from lack of interest in the question, but because on other occasions I have expressed my views on our duty to maintain the freedmen in their rights, civil and political, and since the cause, in the hands of the able Chairman of the Judiciary Committee [Mr. Trumbull], needed no assistance from me. I cannot disguise my joy that a measure like that now pending should receive the support it does. This is an augury for the future. If I were disposed to despair on other questions, I should take heart, when I see how Senators, once lukewarm, indifferent, or perhaps hostile, now generously unite in securing protection to the freedman by Act of Congress.

But, Mr. President, I am unwilling that this debate should close without at least one remark applicable to the future. You are about to decree that colored persons shall enjoy the same civil rights as white persons,—in other words, that with regard to civil rights there shall be no distinction of color; and this you do under the Constitutional Amendment by which Congress is empowered to “enforce” the prohibition of Slavery by “appropriate legislation.” Rightly you regard the present proposition as “appropriate legislation” to this end. It is so, unquestionably. But I should fail in frankness, if I did not give notice that at the proper time I shall insist that every reason, every argument, every consideration, by which you assert the power of Congress for the protection of colored persons in civil rights, is equally strong for their protection in political rights. There is no difference between the two cases. In each you legislate to the same end,—that the freedman may be maintained in that liberty so tardily accorded; and the legislation is just as appropriate in one case as in the other.

All this, Sir, I have seen from the beginning; but I have been unwilling to embarrass the present bill by any additional proposition. The protection of colored persons in their civil rights by Act of Congress will be a great event. It will be great in itself. It will be greater still because it establishes the power of Congress, without further Amendment of the Constitution, to protect colored persons in all their rights, including of course the elective franchise. The power is ample. I trust that you will not hesitate to exercise it.

…

The able and exhaustive argument of the Senator from Illinois [Mr. Trumbull] has rendered all minute discussion of the veto superfluous. He has taken it up paragraph by paragraph, and has shown how absolutely unfounded it is in reason or authority. And then again, when the Senator from Maryland [Mr. Johnson] attempted to vindicate it, he has most successfully quoted that Senator against himself. If argument could avail, the veto is already lost, even without a vote.

But there are considerations of a more general character, which I desire to present very briefly; for at this stage of the debate I cannot venture to trespass on your attention.

Sir, you do not forget the Dred Scott decision, pronounced just as Mr. Buchanan was coming into power,—fit decision to inaugurate such a Presidency. Take it all in all, that decision must always stand forth in bad eminence, as perhaps the most thoroughly perverse and reprehensible in judicial history. Whether regarded in the light of morals or politics or jurisprudence, or of juridical history, it was simply shocking. It was an insult to conscience, to reason, and to truth.

The essential element of this decision was, that persons “guilty of a skin not colored like our own” could not be citizens of the United States; and this postulate was sustained by that remarkable assertion, outrageously false in history, that at the adoption of the Constitution colored persons were regarded as having no rights which the white man was bound to respect,—when, in point of fact, at that time they enjoyed the right of citizens in several States of the Union, while in England, Scotland, France, and Holland, to say nothing of other countries, it had been solemnly declared that all men within their respective borders were free.

In the lapse of time this decision passed out of sight. It seemed to be dead. Blasted at once by an indignant public sentiment, it received a more formal condemnation on two separate occasions: first, when the Attorney General, in an elaborate opinion, declared that a colored person was a citizen of the United States;[217] and, secondly, when the Supreme Court of the United States admitted a colored person as a counsellor at its bar.[218] We all thought this decision dead, and the whole practice of the Government was altered accordingly. Passports were issued to colored persons as citizens, and licenses to enter into the country trade were awarded to colored persons as citizens. For the time being that ill-begotten decision was practically dead.

But now it is once more alive. Bursting the cerements of the grave, it again stalks into this Chamber to fright us from our propriety. Not now from the Supreme Court does it come, but from the President. That public opinion which did not hesitate to condemn the Supreme Court cannot hesitate now to condemn the President.

The veto does not undertake to declare precisely that colored persons are not citizens under the Constitution, but it forbids all legislation positively declaring this citizenship. It is the Dred Scott decision in a new draught. It is the same thing, only with a new shake of the kaleidoscope. You cannot adopt this veto without practically overturning the recent practice of the Government, and setting aside that opinion of Attorney-General Bates which is one of the most illustrious acts in the Administration of President Lincoln. For myself, I have always regarded that production as of the first importance in our recent history. The future historian, as he records the events by which the Republic has been elevated, must dwell with pride upon that simple act, where a single officer of the Government did so much to fix the liberties of a race.

I have said that this veto revives the Dred Scott decision. It does more. It is bad to revive the worst decision in our history; but this veto practically sets aside one of the best decisions in our history. I refer to the case of M’Culloch v. Bank of Maryland, where our great magistrate, Chief Justice Marshall, expended all his marvellous talent in expounding the powers of Congress under the Constitution. In all the annals of the Supreme Court there is no decision more carefully considered or wrought with a finer skill. In this remarkable judgment it has been positively declared, that, where the Constitution confers upon Congress certain powers, it is within the discretion of Congress to determine when and how they shall be exercised. Here are the precise words:—

According to this authoritative text, Congress must determine the “means” it will employ in the exercise of its powers. But this veto pretends to despoil Congress of this discretion.

In the exercise of its discretion, Congress has undertaken to assure civil rights to colored persons. It has been moved to this especially in pursuance of the second clause of the Thirteenth Amendment, where it is empowered to enforce the prohibition of Slavery by appropriate legislation. The present bill is regarded as essential to enforce the prohibition of Slavery, and Congress, in the exercise of its discretion under the Constitution, has passed it. But the veto comes to arrest this discretion. So far as its influence goes, it will neutralize and nullify the great Amendment by which Slavery has been abolished. It leaves the letter in the Constitution, but it takes away the powers by which that letter is made a living soul.

I have said enough to condemn the veto. I have shown, first, that it revives a most odious judgment, and, secondly, that it subverts a received rule of interpretation, and degrades that Constitutional Amendment which is the glory of our recent history. But I go further.

…

THE CITY OF BOSTON AND MR. SUMNER.

POLITICAL EQUALITY WITHOUT DISTINCTION OF COLOR.
NO COMPROMISE OF HUMAN RIGHTS.

MR. PRESIDENT,—I hesitate to intrude again into this debate, which now, after the interposition of another debate on another question, is again renewed. I do it with unfeigned reluctance, and I hope not to trespass too much on your patience.

The question before us, even in its simplest form, is of incalculable importance; but it has added interest, as opening the whole vast subject of Reconstruction. Into this field I shall not be tempted, except to express a brief opinion on the general principles we should seek to establish. Treason must be made odious, and to this end power should be secured to loyal fellow-citizens. In doing this, two indispensable conditions cannot be forgotten: first, all who have been untrue to the Republic must, for a certain time, constituting the transition period, be excluded from the partnership of government; and, secondly, all who have been true to the Republic must be admitted into the partnership of government, according to the sovereign rule of the Constitution, which knows no distinction of color. Following these two simple commandments, there will be safety and peace, together with power and renown; neglecting these two simple commandments, there must be peril and distraction, together with imbecility and dishonor. In the one way, Reconstruction is easy; in the other way, it is in any just sense impossible. It may seem for the moment to succeed; but it must fail in the end. This is all I have to say at present on Reconstruction, and I turn at once to the precise question before us.

Pardon me, Sir, if I remind you that there are two modes of debate. One is to attack the previous speaker with personality of criticism or manner. The other is to speak plainly on the question, and to deal directly, according to your convictions, with the principles involved. Sometimes the two modes are allowed to intermingle. If ever there was occasion when the first should be carefully avoided, when the question alone should be handled, and not the previous speaker, when attention should be directed exclusively to principles involved, and not to any subordinate point of mere form, it is now, when we are asked to insert a new provision in the Constitution, fixing the basis of political power at the expense of fellow-citizens counted by millions. In this spirit I shall try to speak. To my mind, the occasion is too solemn for personal controversy, and I shall not be drawn into it.

The proposition before you is the most important ever brought into Congress, unless, perhaps, we except the Amendment abolishing Slavery; and to my mind it is the most reprehensible. The sentiment which inspired us to hail the abolition of Slavery with gratitude, as the triumph of justice, should make us reject with indignation a device to crystallize into organic law the disfranchisement of a race. With intense regret I differ from valued friends about me, but I cannot do otherwise. I bespeak in advance their candor, and most cheerfully concede to all from whom I differ the indulgence which I claim for myself. With me there is no alternative. Seeing this proposition as I do, I must speak frankly, as on other occasions, in exposing the crime against Kansas, or the infamy of that enactment which turned the whole North into a hunting-ground where man was the game. The attempt now is on a larger scale, if not more essentially bad. Such a measure, so obnoxious to every argument of reason, justice, and feeling, so perilous to the national peace, and so injurious to the good name of the Republic, must be encountered as a public enemy. There is no language which can adequately depict its character. Thinking of it, I am reminded of words of Chatham, where he held up to undying judgment a barbarous measure of the British Ministry. The Englishman did not hesitate, nor did he tame his words, but exclaimed:—

Then, rising to still higher flight, he cried out:—

But what was the measure which thus aroused the veteran orator, compared with that before us? It was only a transient act of wrong, small in proportions. Here is an act of wrong permanent in influence, colossal in proportions, operating in an extensive region, affecting millions of citizens, positively endangering the peace of the country, and covering its name with dishonor. Such is the character of the present attempt. I exhibit it as I see it. Others may not see it so. Of course, its supporters cannot see it so. The British Ministry did not see the measure which Chatham denounced as he saw it, and as history now sees it. Senators would not support the present proposition, if they thought it disgraceful; nor would the British Ministry have supported that earlier proposition, had they thought it disgraceful. Unhappily, they did not think it so; but I trust you will be warned by their example.

With the eloquence of Chatham, another also from his place in the House of Lords held up to reprobation that apprentice system which, under the sanction of both Houses of Parliament, followed Emancipation in the British West Indies. I refer to Brougham. He did not hesitate to exclaim, “Prodigious, portentous injustice!” And then, continuing, he denounced it as “the gross, the foul, the outrageous, the monstrous, the incredible injustice of which we are daily and hourly guilty towards the whole of the ill-fated African race.”[223] But how small the injustice which aroused his reprobation, compared with that you are asked to perpetuate in Constitutional Law! The wrong he arraigned was against eight hundred thousand persons in distant islands, to whom the people of Great Britain were bound by no peculiar ties, and who were to them only fellow-men. The wrong I now arraign is against four million persons, constituting a considerable portion of the “people” of the United States, to whom we are bound by ties of gratitude, and who are to us fellow-citizens.

From the moment I heard this proposition first read at the desk I have not been able to think of it without pain. The reflection that it may find place in the National Constitution, or even that it may be sanctioned by Congress, is intolerable. And this becomes more so, when I call to mind the circumstances by which we are surrounded and the exigency of the hour.

Lord Bacon tells us that the highest function which men can be called to perform on earth is that of founders of states, or, as he expresses it, conditores imperiorum.[224] Such is our present duty. We are to help in this great work by a fundamental provision fixing the basis of our political system for an indefinite future. There are none among the great lawgivers of history who have had a sublimer task.

This duty is enhanced, when we consider that it is the consequence and sequel of an unparalleled war. At a moment of peace such a duty would be commanding; but it is now reinforced by exceptional considerations arising from the exceptional condition of affairs. For four years, Rebellion, of the greatest magnitude known to authentic history, raged among us, threatening to rend the Republic in twain. Millions of treasure were sacrificed. Lives more precious than any treasure were heaped in hecatombs. Families were filled with mourning. In the terrible struggle, while the country was bleeding at every pore and the scales of battle hung doubtful, assistance came from an unexpected quarter. Intermixed with the false men who warred on the Republic were nearly four million slaves, shut out from rights of all kinds, and compelled to do the bidding of masters. These slaves became our benefactors. They were kind to our captive soldiers, sheltering them, feeding them, supplying their wants, and guiding them to safety. Thus in the very heart of the Rebellion there was a filial throb for the Republic. At last arms were put into their hands, and two hundred thousand brave allies, representatives of an unmustered host, leaped forward in defence of the national cause. The Republic was saved. The Rebellion was at an end. Meanwhile the good President who at that time guided our affairs put forth his immortal Proclamation, declaring that these slaves “are and henceforward shall be free”; and not stopping with this declaration, he proceeded to announce that “the Executive Government of the United States, including the military and naval authorities thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of said persons.” Thus was the Republic solemnly pledged to these benefactors, first, by ties of gratitude that should be enduring, and, secondly, by an open promise in the face of the civilized world. And this pledge was taken up and adopted by the people of the United States, when, by Constitutional Amendment, they expressly empowered Congress to maintain this freedom by appropriate legislation.

And now, Sir, called to readjust the foundations of political power, which are naturally changed by the disappearance of Slavery, and called also to perform sacred promises to benefactors, in harmony with sacred promises of our fathers, while at the same time we save the name of the Republic from dishonor and see that the national peace is not imperilled, Congress is about to liquidate all these inviolable obligations by a new compromise of Human Rights, and, so far as it can, to place this compromise in the text of the Constitution, thus establishing a false foundation of political power, violating the national faith, dishonoring the name of Republic, and imperilling the national peace. Others have dwelt on the inadequacy of this attempt, even for its avowed purposes. This is plain. Conceived in a desire to do indirectly what ought to be done directly, it must naturally share the conditions of such a device.

Looking at the proposition in its most general aspect, it reminds me, if you will pardon the illustration, of that leg of mutton, served for dinner on the road from London to Oxford, which Dr. Johnson, with characteristic pungency, described “as bad as bad could be,—ill-fed, ill-killed, ill-kept, and ill-dressed.”[225] So this measure—I adopt the saying of an eminent friend, who insists that it cannot be called an “amendment,” but rather a “detriment,” to the Constitution—is as bad as bad can be; and even for its avowed purpose uncertain, loose, cracked, and rickety. Regarding it as a proposition from Congress to meet the unparalleled exigencies of the hour, it is no better than the “muscipular abortion” sent into the world by the “parturient mountain.”[226] But only when we look at the chance of good is it “muscipular.” In every other aspect it is gigantic, inasmuch as it makes the Constitution a well-spring of insupportable thraldom, and once more lifts the sluices of blood destined to run until it rises to the horse’s bridle. Adopt it, and you put millions of fellow-citizens under the ban of excommunication, you hand them over to a new anathema maranatha, you declare that they have no political rights “which the white man is bound to respect,”—thus repeating in new form the abomination that has blackened the name of Taney. Adopt it, and you stimulate anew the war of race upon race. Slavery itself was a war of race upon race, and this is only a new form of the terrible war. The proposition is as hardy as gigantic; for it takes no account of the moral sense of mankind, which is the same as if in rearing a monument we took no account of the law of gravitation. It is the paragon and master-piece of ingratitude, showing more than any other act of history what is so often charged and we so fondly deny, that republics are ungrateful. The freedmen ask for bread, and you send them a stone. With piteous voice they ask for protection; you thrust them back defenceless into the cruel den of former masters. Such an attempt, thus bad as bad can be, thus abortive for all good, thus perilous, thus pregnant with a war of race upon race, thus shocking to the moral sense, and thus treacherous to those whom we are bound to protect, cannot be otherwise than shameful.

I shall not content myself with describing the device. This is not enough. You have seen it in its general character only. You shall see it now in its guilty parts, each one of which is sufficient to arouse the conscience against it.

1. Of course you cannot fail to be struck by its language. Here words become things. In express terms there is admission of the idea of Inequality of Rights founded on race or color. That this unrepublican idea should be allowed to find place in the text of the Constitution must excite especial wonder, when it is considered how conscientiously our fathers excluded from that text the kindred idea of property in man. The saying of Mr. Madison cannot be too often repeated:—

But is it less wrong to admit in the Constitution the idea of Inequality of Rights founded on race or color? Surely the authors of this proposition have acted inconsiderately and with little regard to the spirit of the Fathers. Imagine it introduced into the Convention which framed the Constitution. Not many words would have been used; but evidently it would have found no place in that text, which, with pious care, was to be guarded against degradation. And now mark the change. After the lapse of generations, when our obligations have increased with increasing light, at an epoch of history when mankind are more than ever before sensitive to the claims of human rights, and when among ourselves there is more than ever before a desire and a duty to fulfil all the promises of the Declaration of Independence, we are invited to make the Constitution disown the Declaration of Independence, insult the conscience of mankind, and disregard all the obligations pressing upon us. But this is a mild way of stating the character of the attempt plainly apparent in the words. Its essential uncleanness is not disclosed. Adopt this proposition, and you will imitate those ancient birds who defiled the feast that was spread. The Constitution is the feast spread for our country, and you hurry to drop into its text a political obscenity, and to diffuse over its page a disgusting ordure,—

Only by plain language can this attempt be adequately exposed. Only in this way can it be seen in its true character. Only in this way can you be moved to shrink from it with proper repugnance. In this spirit the religious press of the country is beginning to speak. The Boston “Recorder,” the most venerable of all the religious papers of New England, and perhaps of the whole country, which for more than half a century has been a weekly teacher at uncounted firesides, thus solemnly appeals to the conscience of patriots and of statesmen:—

I have heard somewhere a strange apology for this amendment. It is said that it is “punitive,” and that the idea of Inequality of Rights is to be admitted into the Constitution for punishment, and not for sanction. As well say that the term “three fifths of all other persons” in the Constitution was “punitive.” It was no such thing. It was a compromise; and such is the precise character of the present attempt, which, by its very words, is a plain license to tyranny, in consideration that the tyrants pay in political power. The primary element, standing out in “darkness visible,” is the license; the secondary element is the pay. Here is nothing less than a mighty house that shall be nameless, which it is proposed to license constitutionally for a consideration. Even if political power is curtailed, it is only as a consideration for the license. It is a new sale of “indulgences,” on a larger scale than that of Tetzel. The latter, returning from Rome into Germany, became vendor of licenses for adultery, robbery, theft; but the outrage aroused Martin Luther, and the Reformation began. As well say, that, since pay was required, therefore the indulgences of Tetzel were “punitive.”

Thus far I have spoken of the attempt only as it appears in its words, without analyzing it in detail.

2. One of its elementary parts and consequences is that it sanctions the acknowledged tyranny of taxation without representation. A whole race, constituting a considerable part of the people of the United States, and embraced under the words of the preamble to the Constitution, “We the people,” are left without representation in the Government, but nevertheless held within the grasp of taxation, direct and indirect, tariff and excise, State and National. Sir, this is tyranny,—or else our fathers were wrong, when they protested against a kindred injustice. The principle is fundamental. You cannot violate it without again dishonoring the Fathers.

To the application of this principle there have been two replies: first, that in its origin it was a claim of representation for communities only, and not for individuals; and, secondly, that in its nature it embraces women as well as men. And from these two considerations it is argued that it cannot be invoked for the protection of four million people whose only offence is a dark skin. Even if it had been originally a claim for communities only, and not for individuals, it is difficult to see how it can be rejected as a rule in determining the rights of fellow-citizens counted by millions. Our fathers, when they cried out that taxation without representation is tyranny, were not more than two millions and a half. Our fellow-citizens now renewing the same cry are more than four millions, possessing the weight of numbers, if not of organization. But it is a mistake to suppose that the original claim was for communities only, and not for individuals. This is a question of history, to be considered with the gravity of history, and as such I ask attention to it.

In opening this debate, I carried you to that Provincial Court in Massachusetts, where, in assailing Writs of Assistance, James Otis first launched the thunderbolt, “Taxation without representation is tyranny.” You remember how careful he was to insist that without representation there could be no taxation of any kind, direct or indirect, on land or on trade, and that the representation must be substantial, real, and not merely imaginary, or, as it was expressed at that time, “virtual.” In developing this principle, he announced the equal rights of all, without distinction of color. On this ground he stood, when he uttered those memorable words, which the whole country adopted at once with patriotic frenzy, and which I insist you shall not deny in our organic law.

But, to show more precisely the meaning of Otis, I let him be his own interpreter. Again and again he asserts the equality of men. This was his fundamental principle, which on an important occasion he thus expressed: “The first simple principle is equality and the power of the whole.”[230] Nor did he allow this to be limited in application by any distinction of color. John Adams, who was present when the orator first raised his great cry, says: “Nor were the poor negroes forgotten. Not a Quaker in Philadelphia, or Mr. Jefferson, of Virginia, ever asserted the rights of negroes in stronger terms.”[231] Otis, in another form, assailed directly the distinction of color, saying: “Will short, curled hair, like wool, instead of Christian hair, as ’tis called by those whose hearts are as hard as the nether millstone, help the argument?”[232] Such, then, were his premises,—the equal rights of all, without distinction of color. From these his conclusion was easy:—