Chapter III (2)

The funny part of Class-Day comes last,--not so very funny to tell, but amazingly funny to see,--only a wreath of bouquets fastened around the trunk of an old tree, perhaps eight or ten feet from the ground, and then the four classes range themselves around it in four circles with their hands fast locked together, the Freshman Class on the outside, the Senior Class within, grotesquely tricked out in vile old coats and "shocking bad hats." Then the two alternate classes go one way around the tree and the two others the opposite, pell-mell, harum-scarum, pushing and pulling, down and up again, only keeping fast hold of hands, singing, shouting, cheering _ad libitum_, _ad throatum_, (theirs,) _ad earsum_, (ours,) and going all the time in that din and yell and crowd and crash dear to the hearts of boys. At a given signal there is a pause, and the Senior Class make sudden charge upon the bouquets, huddling and hustling and crowding and jumping at the foot of the old tree; bubbling up on each other's shoulders into momentary prominence and prospect of success, and immediately disappearing ignominiously; making frantic grasps and clutches with a hundred long arms and eager outstretched hands, and finally succeeding, by shoulders and fists, in bringing the wreath away piecemeal; and then they give themselves up to mutual embraces, groans, laments, and all the enginery of pathetic affection in the last gasping throes of separation,--to the doleful tearing of hair and the rending of their fantastic garments. It is the personification of legalized rowdyism; and if young men would but confine themselves to such rowdyism as may be looked at and laughed at by their mothers and sisters, they would find life just as amusing and a thousand times more pure and profitable.

* * * * *

It occurs to me here that there is one subject on which I desire to "give my views," though it is quite unconnected with Class-Day. But it is probable that in the whole course of my natural life it will never again happen to me to be writing about colleges, so I desire to say in this paper everything I have to say on the subject. I refer to the practice of "hazing," which is an abomination. If we should find it among hinds, a remnant of the barbarisms of the Dark Ages, blindly handed down by such slow-growing people as go to mill with their meal on one side of the saddle and a stone on the other to balance, as their fathers did, because it never occurred to their loggerheads to divide the meal into two parcels and make it balance itself, we should not be surprised; but hazing occurs among boys who have been accustomed to the circulation of ideas, boys old enough and intelligent enough to understand the difference between brutality and frolic, old enough to know what honor and courage mean, and therefore I cannot conceive how they should countenance a practice which entirely ignores and defies honor, and whose brutality has not a single redeeming feature. It has neither wisdom nor wit, no spirit, no genius, no impulsiveness, scarcely the mirth of boyish frolic. A narrow range of stale practical jokes, lighted up by no gleam of originality, is transmitted from year to year with as much fidelity as the Hebrew Bible, and not half the latitude allowed to clergymen of the English Established Church. But besides its platitude, its one overpowering and fatal characteristic is its intense and essential cowardice. Cowardice is its head and front and bones and blood. One boy does not single out another boy of his own weight, and take his chances in a fair stand-up fight. But a party of Sophomores club together in such numbers as to render opposition useless, and pounce upon their victim unawares, as Brooks and his minions pounced upon Sumner, and as the Southern chivalry is given to doing. For sweet pity's sake, let this mode of warfare be monopolized by the Southern chivalry.

The lame excuse is offered, that it does the Freshmen good,--takes the conceit out of them. But if there is any class in college so divested of conceit as to be justified in throwing stones, it is surely not the Sophomore Class. Moreover, whatever good it may do the sufferers, it does harm, and only harm, to the perpetrators; and neither the law nor the gospel requires a man to improve other people's characters at the expense of his own. Nobody can do a wrong without injuring himself; and no young man can do a mean, cowardly wrong like this without suffering severest injury. It is the very spirit of the slaveholder, a dastardly and detestable, a tyrannical and cruel spirit. If young men are so blinded by custom and habit that a meanness is not to them a meanness because it has been practised for years, so much the worse for the young men, and so much the worse for our country, whose sweat of blood attests the bale and blast which this evil spirit has wrought. If uprightness, if courage, if humanity and rectitude and the mind conscious to itself of right, are anything more than a name. Let the young men who mean to make time minister to life scorn and scotch and kill this debasing and stupid practice.

And why is not some legitimate and wholesome safety-valve provided by authority to let off superabundant vitality, that boys may not, by the mere occasions of their own natures, be driven into wickedness? Class-Day is very well, but it comes only once a year, and what is needed is an opportunity for daily ebullition, so that each night may square its own account and forestall explosion. Why should there not be, for instance, a military department to every college, as well as a mathematical department? Why might not every college be a military normal school? The exuberance and riot of animal spirits, the young, adventurous strength and joy in being, would not only be kept from striking out as now in illegitimate, unworthy, and hurtful directions, but it would become the very basis and groundwork of useful purposes. Such exercise would be so promotive of health and discipline, it would so train and harmonize and _limber_ the physical powers, that the superior quality of study would, I doubt not, more than atone for whatever deficiency in quantity might result. And even suppose a little less attention should be given to Euclid and Homer, which is of the greater importance nowadays, an ear that can detect a false quantity in a Greek verse, or an eye that can sight a Rebel nine hundred yards off, and a hand that can pull a trigger and shoot him? Knowledge is power; but knowledge must sharpen its edges and polish its points, if it would be greatliest available in days like these. The knowledge that can plant batteries and plan campaigns, that is fertile in expedients and wise to baffle the foe, is just now the strongest power. Diagrams and first-aorists are good, and they who have fed on such meat have grown great, and done the State service in their generation; but these times demand new measures and new men. It is conceded that we shall probably be for many years a military nation. At least a generation of vigilance shall be the price of our liberty. And even of peace we can have no stronger assurance than a wise and wieldy readiness for war. Now the education of our unwarlike days is not adequate to the emergencies of this martial hour. We must be seasoned with something stronger than Attic salt, or we shall be cast out and trodden under foot of men. True, all education is worthy. Everything that exercises the mind fits it for its work; but professional education is indispensable to professional men. And the profession, _par excellence_, of every man of this generation is war. Country overrides all personal considerations. Lawyer, minister, what not, a man's first duty is the salvation of his country. When she calls, he must go; and before she calls, let him, if possible, prepare himself to serve her in the best manner. As things are now, college-boys are scarcely better than cow-boys for the army. Their costly education runs greatly to waste. It gives them no direct advantage over the clod who stumbles against a trisyllable. So far as it makes them better men, of course they are better soldiers; but for all of military education which their college gives them, they are fit only for privates, whose sole duty is to obey. They know nothing of military drill or tactics or strategy. The State cannot afford this waste. She cannot afford to lose the fruits of mental toil and discipline. She needs trained mind even more than trained muscle. It is harder to find brains than to find hands. The average mental endowment may be no higher in college than out; but granting it to be as high, the culture which it receives gives it immense advantage. The fruits of that culture, readiness, resources, comprehensiveness, should all be held in the service of the State. Military knowledge and practice should be imparted and enforced to utilize ability, and make it the instrument, not only of personal, but of national welfare. That education which gives men the advantage over others in the race of life should be so directed as to convey that advantage to country, when she stands in need. Every college might and should be made a nursery of athletes in mind and body, clear-eyed, stout-hearted, strong-limbed, cool-brained,--a nursery of soldiers, quick, self-possessed, brave and cautious and wary, ready in invention, skilful to command men and evolve from a mob an army,--a nursery of gentlemen, reminiscent of no lawless revels, midnight orgies, brutal outrages, launching out already attainted into an attainting world, but with many a memory of adventure, wild, it may be, and not over-wise, yet pure as a breeze from the hills,--banded and sworn

"To serve as model for the mighty world,
To break the heathen and uphold the Christ,
To ride abroad redressing human wrongs,
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it,
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity,
Not only to keep down the base in man,
But teach high thought, and amiable words.
And courtliness, and the desire of fame,
And love of truth, and all that makes a man."

* * * * *

LOVE'S CHALLENGE.

I picked this trifle from the floor,
Unknowing from whose tender hand
It fell,--but now would fain restore
A thing which hath my heart unmanned.

I say unmanned, for 't is not now
A manly mood to dream of Love,
When each bold champion knits his brow,
And for War's gauntlet doffs his glove.

But we're exempt, and have no heart
Of wreak within us for the fray;
And therefore teach our souls the art
With life and life's concerns to play.

Yet, lady, trust me, 't is not all
In play that I proclaim intent,
When next thou lett'st thy gauntlet fall,
To take it as a challenge meant.

REPLY.

SIR CARPET-KNIGHT, who canst not fight,
Thy gallantries are not for me;
The man whom I with love requite
Must sing in a more martial key.

I have two brothers on the field,
And one beneath it,--none knows where;
And I shall keep my spirit steeled
To any save a soldier's prayer.

If thou have music in thy soul,
Yet hast no sinew for the strife,
Go teach thyself the war-drum's roll,
And woo me better with a fife!

* * * * *

POLITICAL PROBLEMS, AND CONDITIONS OF PEACE.

The relations existing between the Federal Government and the several States, and the reciprocal rights and powers of each, have never been settled, except in part. Upon matters of taxation and commerce, and the diversified questions that arise in times of peace, the decisions of the Supreme Court have marked the boundary-lines of State and Federal power with considerable clearness and precision. But all these questions are superficial and trivial, when compared with those which are coming up for decision out of the great struggle in which we are now engaged. The Southern Rebellion, greater than any recorded in history since the world began, must necessarily call for the exercise of all the powers with which the Government is clothed. And we need not be surprised, if, in resorting to the new measures which the great exigency of the new condition seems to require, it shall be found, after the storm has ceased and the clouds have rolled away, that in some things the Government has transcended its legitimate powers, while in others it has suffered, because fearing to use those which it really possesses. It is dependent in many things upon the States; and yet it is supreme over them all. There can be no Senate, as a branch either of the executive or of the legislative department, without the action of the States; and yet the Government emanates directly from the people. In defending itself against an armed rebellion of nearly half the States themselves, struggling for self-preservation, it may rightfully, as in other wars, grasp all the means within its reach. War makes its own methods, for all of which necessity is a sufficient plea. But when the defence shall have been made, when the attack is repelled, and the Rebellion shall have been fully suppressed, then will come the questions, What are the best means of restoration? and, How shall a recurrence of the evil be prevented?

Though the Federal Government is one of limited powers, _the people_ possess _all governmental powers_; and these are spoken of as powers _delegated_ and powers _reserved_. So far as these are reserved to _the people_, they may be exercised either through the _Federal Government_ or the _State_. And the Federal Government, though limited in its powers, is restricted in _the subjects upon which it can act_, rather than in the _quantum_ of power it can exercise over those matters within its jurisdiction. Over those interests which are committed to its care it has all the powers incident to any other government in the world,--powers necessary by implication to accomplish the purpose intended. The construction of the grant in the Constitution is not to be critical and stringent, as if the people, by its adoption, were _selling_ power to a _stranger_,--but liberal, considering that they were enabling _their own agents_ to achieve a noble work for them.

We have been accustomed to extol the wisdom of our fathers, in framing and establishing such a form of government; but our highest praises have been too small. We have hitherto had but a partial conception of their wisdom. We knew not the terrible test to which their work was to be exposed. After the long discipline of the Revolutionary War, and the experience of the weakness and impending anarchy of the Confederation, they understood, far better than we, the dangers to which every government is liable, from within and from without. And we are just now beginning to see, that, in the Constitution they adopted, they not only provided for the interests of peace, but for the dangers and emergencies of war. Brief sentences, hardly noticed before, now throw open their doors like a magazine of arms, ready for use in the hour of peril. And while we shall come out of this struggle, and the political contest that will follow it, without impairing any of the rights of the States, the Federal Government _restored_ will stand before the world in a majesty of strength of which we have before had no conception.

The questions evolved by the war are already attracting public attention. It is well that they should do so. The peace and prosperity of the country in future years depend upon their solution. They are so interwoven that a mistake in regard to one may involve us in other errors. The power of the Government so to remove the cause of the present rebellion as to prevent its recurrence, if it have any such power, is one which it is imperatively bound to exercise,--else all the treasure and blood expended in quelling it will be wasted. Has it any such power? Can Slavery be exterminated? And can the Rebel States be held as conquests, and be restored only upon condition of being forever free? It is proposed briefly to discuss these questions.

EMANCIPATION.

There are those who believe that the President's Proclamation will cease to be of any force at the close of the war, and that no slaves will have any right to their freedom by it except such as may be actually liberated by the military authorities.

There are others, who hold that the Proclamation has the force of law,--that by it every slave within the designated territory has now a legal right to his liberty,--and that, if the military power does not secure that right to him _during the war_, he may successfully appeal to the civil power _afterwards_.

If the Proclamation is a law, it must be conceded, that, like all the laws of war, it will cease to be in force when the war is closed. But if, like a legislative act, it confers actual rights on the slaves, whether they are able to secure them in fact or not, then those _rights_ are not lost, though the law cease to exist. On the other hand, if it confers no actual rights on any who are beyond its reach,--if it is merely an _offer_ of freedom to all who can come and receive it,--then those only who do receive it while the offer continues will have any rights by it when it has ceased to be in force.

The position of Mr. Adams on this subject seems to have been misunderstood. When his remarks in Congress are carefully examined, it will be found that he did not claim that the proclamation of a military commander would operate, like a statute, to confer the right of freedom upon all the slaves in an invaded country. But he asserted a general principle of international law,--that the commander of an invading army is not bound to recognize the municipal laws of the country,--that he may treat all as freemen, though some are slaves. And he claimed, that, in case of a servile war in this country, our army would have a right to suppress the insurrection by giving freedom to the insurgents. In regard to the effect of such a proclamation upon those not liberated by the military power, he expressed no opinion.

The precedents usually cited are not any more satisfactory. In Hayti, and in the South-American republics, emancipation became an established fact by the action of the civil power. In each case a proclamation by the military power was the initial step; but the consummation was attained by the fact that the same power afterwards became dominant in civil, as well as in military affairs.

Conceding, then, that the Proclamation is but a declaration of the war-policy, designed and adapted to secure a still higher end,--the preservation and perpetuity of our free institutions,--it is still claimed that the Government has the right to pursue this policy until Slavery is abolished, _and forever prohibited_, within all the Rebel States.

Though we speak of the Rebellion as an "insurrection," it has assumed such proportions that we are in a state of actual war. Nor does it make any difference that it is a _civil_ war. It has just been decided by the Supreme Court of the United States, _that we have the same rights against the people and States in rebellion_, by the law of nations, that we should have against _alien enemies_. The property of non-combatants is liable to confiscation, as _enemies'_ property; and it makes no difference that some of them are _personally_ loyal. All the inhabitants of the Rebel States have the rights of _enemies_ only. The recent cases of the Brilliant, Hiawatha, and Amy Warwick settle this beyond all question. There was some difference of opinion among the judges, but only on the question whether this condition _preceded_ the Act of Congress of July, 1861,--a majority holding that it did, commencing with the proclamation of the blockade. So that it cannot be denied that we may treat the Rebel States as _enemies_, and adopt all measures against them _which any belligerents engaged in a just war may adopt_.

And no principle of the law of nations is more universally admitted than this,--that the party in the right, after the war is commenced, may continue to carry it on until the enemy shall submit to such terms as will be a sufficient indemnity for all the losses and expenses caused by it, _and will prevent another war in the future_. And to this end he may conquer and hold in subjection people and territory, until such terms are submitted to. And until then, the state of war continues. The right to impose such terms as will _secure peace in the future_ is one of the fundamental principles of international law.

"Of the absolute international rights of States," says Mr. Wheaton, "one of the most essential and important, and that which lies at the foundation of all the rest, is _the right of self-preservation_. This right necessarily involves all other incidental rights which are essential as means to give effect to the principal end."

"The end of a just war," says Vattel, "is to avenge, _or prevent_, injury."

"If _the safety of the State_ lies at stake, our precaution and foresight cannot be extended too far. Must we delay to arrest our ruin until it has become inevitable?"

"Where the end is lawful, he who has the right to pursue that end has, of course, a right to employ all the means necessary for its attainment."

"When the conqueror has totally subdued a nation, he undoubtedly may, in the first place, do himself justice respecting the object which had given rise to the war, and indemnify himself for the expenses and damages sustained by it; he may, according to the exigency of the case, subject the nation to punishment by way of example; and he may, _if prudence require it, render her incapable of doing mischief with the same ease in future_."

"Every nation," says Chancellor Kent, "has an undoubted right to provide for its own safety, and to take due precaution against _distant_, as well as impending danger."

Our rights _as belligerents_, therefore, are ample for our security in time to come. The Rebel States will not cease to be enemies by being defeated and exhausted and disabled from continuing active hostilities. They have invoked the laws of war, and they must abide the decision of the tribunal to which they have appealed. We may hold them _as enemies_ until they submit to such reasonable terms of peace as we may demand. Whether we shall require any indemnity for the vast expenditures and losses to which we have been subjected is a question of great magnitude; but it is of little importance compared with that of guarding against a recurrence of the Rebellion, by removing _the cause_ of it. It would be worse than madness to restore them to all their former rights under the government they have done their utmost to destroy, and at the same time permit them to retain a system that would surely involve us or our children in another struggle of the same kind.

Slavery and freedom cannot permanently coexist under the same government. There is an inevitable, perpetual, irrepressible conflict between them. The present rebellion is but the culmination of this conflict, long existing,--transferred from social and political life to the camp and the battle-field. _In the new arena, we have all the rights of belligerents in an international war._ Slavery has taken the sword; let it perish by the sword. If we spare it, its wickedness will be exceeded by our folly. As victors, the world concedes our right to demand, for our own future peace, as the only terms of restoration, not only the abolition of Slavery in all the Rebel States, but its prohibition in all coming time. It cannot be, that, with the terrible lessons of these passing years, we shall be so utterly destitute of wisdom and prudence as to leave our children exposed to the dangers of another rebellion, after entailing upon them the vast burdens of this, by our national debt.

It has been said, that, if Slavery should be abolished, the States could afterwards reestablish it. This is claimed, on the ground that every State may determine for itself the character of its own domestic institutions. The right to do so has been conceded to some of the new States.

But it should be remembered that this right has been, to establish Slavery _by bringing in slaves from the old States_,--not by taking _citizens of the United States_, and reducing _them_ to slavery. If one such citizen can be enslaved, then can any other; and the very foundations of the Federal Government can be overturned by a State. For a government that cannot protect _its own citizens_ from loss of citizenship by being chattellized is no government at all.

Citizenship is a reciprocal relation. The citizen owes allegiance; the government owes protection. When a person is naturalized, he takes the oath of allegiance. Does he got nothing in return? Can a State annul all the rights which the Federal Government has conferred? Then, indeed, would it be better for those who come to our shores to remain citizens of the old nations; for _they_ could protect them, but _we_ cannot. Then, to be a citizen of the United States--a privilege we had thought greater than that of Roman citizenship when that empire was in its glory--is a privilege which any State may annul at its pleasure!

The power and position of a nation depend upon the number, wealth, intelligence, and power of its citizens. And the nation, in order to employ and develop its resources, must have free scope for the use of its powers. No State has a right to block the path of the United States, or in any way to "retard, impede, or burden it, in the execution of its powers." For this reason, if a citizen is wealthy enough to lend money to the Federal Government, a State cannot _tax his scrip_ to the amount of one cent. But, if the doctrine contended for by some is sound, then it may take _the citizen himself_, confiscate the whole of his property, blot out his citizenship, and make a chattel of him, and the Federal Government can afford him no protection! Among all the doctrines that Slavery has originated in this country, there is none more monstrous than this.

But this is not a question of any practical importance at this time. There is no danger that Slavery will ever be tolerated where it has been once abolished. It may go into new fields; it seldom returns to those from which it has been driven. The institutions of learning and religion that follow in the path of freedom, if they find a congenial soil, are not likely to be supplanted by the dark and noxious exotics of ignorance and barbarism.

And besides, as we have already seen, it is our right, as one of the conditions of restoration, to provide for the _perpetual prohibition_ of Slavery within the Rebel States. This, like the Ordinance of 1787, will stand as an insurmountable barrier in all time to come. And the security it will afford will be even more certain. For, while there may be a difference of opinion in regard to the effect of a law of Congress relating to existing Territories, there is no doubt that conditions imposed at the time upon the admission of new States, or the restoration of the Rebel States, will be of perpetual obligation.

RIGHTS OF REBEL STATES.

On this subject there are two theories, each of which has advocates among our most eminent statesmen.

By some it is claimed that the Rebels have lost all rights as citizens of States, and are in the condition of the inhabitants of unorganized territories belonging to the United States,--and that, having forfeited their rights, they can never be restored to their former position, except by the consent of the Federal Government. This consent may be given by admitting them as new States, or restoring them as old,--the Government having the right in either case to annex terms and conditions.

There are others who contend that the Rebel States, though in rebellion, have lost none of their rights as States,--that the moment they submit they may choose members of Congress and Presidential electors, and demand, and we must concede, the same position they formerly held. This theory has been partially recognized by the present Administration, but not to an extent that precludes the other from being adopted, if it is right.

If the people of the States which have seceded, as soon as they submit, have an absolute right to resume their former position in the Government, with their present constitutions upholding Slavery, it certainly will be a great, if not an insurmountable, obstacle to the adoption of those measures which may be necessary to secure our peace in the future. That they have no such right, it is believed may be made perfectly clear.

If we triumph, we shall have all the rights which, by the laws of nations, belong to conquerors in a just war. In a civil war, the rights of conquest may not be of the same nature as in a war between different nations; but that there are such rights in all wars has already been stated on the highest authority. If a province, having definite constitutional rights, revolts, and attempts to overthrow the power of the central government, it would be a strange doctrine, to claim, that, after being subdued, it had risked and lost nothing by the undertaking. No authority can be found to sustain such a proposition. A rebellion puts everything at risk. Any other doctrine would hold out encouragement to all wicked and rebellious spirits. If they revolt, they know that everything is staked upon the chances of success. Everything is lost by defeat. By the laws of war, long established among the nations,--laws which the Rebel States have themselves invoked,--if they fail, they will have no right to be restored, except upon such terms as our Government may prescribe. The right to make war, conferred by the Constitution, carries with it all the rights and powers incident to a war, necessary for its successful prosecution, and essential to prevent its recurrence.

But without resorting to the extraordinary powers incident to a state of war, the same conclusion, in regard to the effect of a rebellion by a State Government, results from the relations which the States sustain to the Federal Government. Though they cannot escape its jurisdiction, their position, _as States_, is one which may be forfeited and lost.

It has been objected that this doctrine is equivalent to a recognition of the right of Secession, because it concedes the power of any one State to withdraw from the Union. But the fallacy of this objection is easily demonstrated.

The Federal Government does not emanate from the States, but directly from the people. The relation between them is that _of protection_ on the one hand and _allegiance_ on the other. This relation cannot be dissolved by either party, unless by voluntary or compulsory expatriation. It subsists alike in States and Territories, not being dependent upon any local government. The Rebels claim the right to dissolve this relation, and to become free from and independent of the Federal Government, though retaining the same territory as before. We deny any such right, and hold, that, though they may forfeit their rights _as a State_, they are still bound by, and under the jurisdiction of, the Federal Government. This jurisdiction, though absolute in all places, is not the same in all.

In the District of Columbia, and in all unorganized territories, the jurisdiction of the Federal Government is exclusive in its _extent_, as well as in its _nature_. It must protect the inhabitants in _all_ their rights,--for there is no other power to protect them. They owe allegiance to it, and to no other.

The inhabitants of the _organized_ territories, though under the general jurisdiction of the Federal Government, are, to some extent, under the jurisdiction of the Territorial Governments. Each is bound to protect them in certain things; they are bound to support and obey each in certain things.

The people of a State are also under the absolute jurisdiction of the Federal Government in all matters embraced in the Constitution. They owe it unqualified allegiance and support in those things. But they are also, in some matters, under the jurisdiction of the State Government, and owe allegiance to that. There are many matters over which both have jurisdiction, and in which the citizens have a right to look to each, or both, for protection. The courts of each issue writs of _habeas corpus_, and give the citizens their liberty, unless there is legal cause for their custody or restraint.

Now, if a State Government forfeits all right to the allegiance and support of its citizens, they are not thereby absolved from their allegiance to the Federal Government. On the contrary, the jurisdiction of the Federal Government is thereby enlarged; for it is then the only Government which the citizens are bound to obey. Take, for illustration, the State of Arkansas. By seceding, the State Government forfeited all claim to the obedience of the citizens. The inhabitants no longer owe it any allegiance. If loyal, they will not obey it, except as compelled by force. But they still owe allegiance to the United States Government. And there being no other Government which they are bound to obey, they are in the same condition as before the State was admitted into the Union, or any Territorial Government was organized.

The same is true of South Carolina. For, though it was an independent State before the Constitution was adopted, its citizens voluntarily yielded up that position, and became subject to the Federal Government, claiming the privileges and assuming the liabilities of a higher citizenship. And if, by reason of its rebellion, their State Government has forfeited its claim upon them, and its right to rule over them, they owe no allegiance to any except the Government of the United States.

But it is argued by some, that a State, once admitted into the Union, cannot forfeit its rights as a State under the Constitution, because it cannot, as such, be guilty of treason; that the inhabitants may all be traitors, and the State Government secede, and engage in a war against the Republic, and yet retain all its rights intact.

A State, in the meaning of public law, has been defined to be a body of persons _united together_ in one community, for the defence of their rights. They do not constitute a State until _organized_. If the organization ceases to exist, they are no longer a State. If the State organization becomes despotic, and the inhabitants overthrow it by a revolution, it then ceases to exist. The people are remitted to their original rights, and must organize a new State.

A State, as such, may be guilty of treason. Crimes may be committed by organized bodies of men. Corporations are often convicted, and punished by fines, or by a forfeiture of all corporate rights. And though we have no provision for putting a State on trial, it may, as a State, be guilty. Treason is defined by the Constitution to be "levying war against the United States." This is just what South Carolina, as a State, is doing. Not only the people, but _the State Government_, has revolted. The people owe it no allegiance. It is their duty, not to support, but to _oppose_ it. The Federal Government owes it no recognition. It has the right to destroy and exterminate it. A State Government in rebellion has no rights under the Constitution. _It is itself a rebellion_, and must necessarily cease to exist when the rebellion is suppressed.

And when the State Government which has revolted shall be conquered and overthrown, there will then be no South Carolina in existence. If there were loyal people enough there, bond or free, to rise up and overthrow it, they would be no more bound to revive the old Constitution, with its tyrannical provisions, than were our fathers to return to the British Government. Such a revolution is inaugurated in that State, by loyal men, to overthrow the despotic power of the State Government. If the State Government had remained loyal, it might have called on the Federal Government. But by seceding it has justified the Federal Government in aiding or organizing a revolution against it, for its utter overthrow and extinction.

It is true, indeed, the idea prevails that there is still, somehow, a State of South Carolina, besides that which is in rebellion. But the State must exist _in fact_, or it has no existence. There is no such thing as a merely theoretical State, separate and different from the actual. The revolted States are the same States that were once loyal. And when some loyal citizens in each of them, with the aid of the Federal Government, have overthrown and destroyed them, the ground will be cleared for the formation of new States, or the _reorganization_ of the old; and they may be admitted or restored, upon such conditions as may be deemed wise and prudent, to promote and secure the future peace and welfare of the whole country.

There is no evidence that loyal persons in the Rebel States claim or desire to uphold the existence of those States, under their present constitutions, with the system of Slavery. But if there are any such persons, their wishes are not to override the interests of the Republic. It is their misfortune to reside in States that have revolted; and all their losses, pecuniary and political, are chargeable to those States, and not to the Federal Government. If they are so blind as to suppose that their losses will be increased by emancipation, _that_, also, will be chargeable to the rebellion of those States. _Their_ loyalty does not save those States from being treated as enemies; it does not prevent _their own_ condition from being determined by that of their States. As it is well known, a portion of their property has been confiscated by an Act of Congress, on the ground that they are, in part, responsible for the rebellion of those States. The theory, therefore, that such loyal men constitute loyal States, still existing, in distinction from the States that have rebelled, is utterly groundless. On this point we cannot do better than quote from the opinion of the Supreme Court of the United States in a case already referred to, sustaining the belligerent legislation of Congress.

"In organizing this rebellion, _they have acted as States_, claiming to be sovereign over all persons and property within their respective limits, and claiming the right to absolve their citizens from their allegiance to the Federal Government. Several of these States have combined to form a new Confederacy, claiming to be acknowledged by the world as a sovereign State. Their right to do so is now being decided by wager of battle. The ports and territory of each of these States are held in hostility to the General Government. It is no loose, unorganized insurrection, having no defined boundary or possession. It has a boundary, marked by lines of bayonets, and which can be crossed only by force. South of this line is enemy's territory, because it is claimed and held in possession by an organized, hostile, and belligerent power. All persons residing within this territory, whose property may be used to increase the revenues of the hostile power, are in this contest liable to be treated as enemies."

It is not to be presumed that Congress will do anything unnecessarily to add to the misfortunes of loyal men in the South. On the contrary, all that is being done is more directly for their benefit than for that of any other class of men. The vast expenditure of treasure and blood in this war is for the purpose of protecting them first of all, and restoring to them the blessings of a good government. And if it shall be found practicable to indemnify them for all losses, whether by emancipation or otherwise, no one will object.

* * * * *

The object of this article is to prove that the Government possesses ample power, according to the law of nations, to suppress the Rebellion, and secure the country against the danger of another, by Emancipation, through the military power; that, though Emancipation is a _policy_, and not a _law_, the war may be prosecuted until this end is accomplished, and Slavery in future forever prohibited; that, by secession and rebellion, the revolted States have forfeited all right to the allegiance of their citizens, who are thereby remitted to the condition and rights of citizens solely of the United States; and that the Federal Government, as well _under the Constitution_ as _by right of conquest_, may impose such terms upon the reorganization and restoration of those States as may be necessary to secure present safety, and avert danger in time to come. These views are presented in as brief and simple terms as possible, with the hope that they may be adopted by the people and by the Government. It is confidently believed, that, if the President and Congress will act in accordance with them, their acts will be fully sustained by the Supreme Court,--and that, the element and source of discord being at last entirely removed from the country, a career of peace and prosperity will then begin which shall be the admiration of the world.

At this time we present a humiliating spectacle to other nations: nearly half of our national temple in ruins,--the work of blind folly and mad ambition. The people of the North claimed no right to tear it down, or even to repair it. But since the people of the South have risen in rebellion, let us believe that there is now an opportunity, nay, an imperative _necessity_, to remove from its foundations the rock of Oppression, that was sure to crumble in the refining fires of a Christian civilization, and establish in its place the stone of LIBERTY,--unchanging and eternal as its Author. Let us rejoice in the hope, already brightening into fruition, that out of these ruins our temple shall rise again, in a fresher beauty, a firmer strength, a brighter glory,--and above it again shall float the old flag, every star restored, henceforth to all, of every color and every race, the flag of the free.

* * * * *

REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.

_Journal of a Residence on a Georgian Plantation in 1838-39._ By FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. New York: Harper & Brothers.

Those who remember the "Journal of a Residence in America," of Frances Anne Kemble, or, as she was universally and kindly called, Fanny Kemble,--a book long since out of print, and entirely out of the knowledge of our younger readers,--will not cease to wonder, as they close these thoughtful, tranquil, and tragical pages. The earlier journal was the dashing, fragmentary diary of a brilliant girl, half impatient of her own success in an art for which she was peculiarly gifted, yet the details of which were sincerely repugnant to her. It crackled and sparkled with _naïve_ arrogance. It criticized a new world and fresh forms of civilization with the amusing petulance of a spoiled daughter of John Bull. It was flimsy, flippant, laughable, rollicking, vivid. It described scenes and persons, often with airy grace, often with profound and pensive feeling. It was the slightest of diaries, written in public for the public; but it was universally read, as its author had been universally sought and admired in the sphere of her art; and no one who knew anything of her truly, but knew what an incisive eye, what a large heart, what a candid and vigorous mind, what real humanity, generosity, and sympathy, characterized Miss Kemble.

The dazzling phantasmagoria which life had been to the young actress was suddenly exchanged for the most practical acquaintance with its realities. She was married, left the stage, and as a wife and mother resided for a winter on the plantations of her husband upon the coast of Georgia. And now, after twenty-five years, the journal of her residence there is published. It has been wisely kept. For never could such a book speak with such power as at this moment. The tumult of the war will be forgotten, as you read, in the profound and appalled attention enforced by this remarkable revelation of the interior life of Slavery. The spirit, the character, and the purpose of the Rebellion are here laid bare. Its inevitability is equally apparent. The book is a permanent and most valuable chapter in our history; for it is the first ample, lucid, faithful, detailed account, from the actual head-quarters of a slave-plantation in this country, of the workings of the system,--its persistent, hopeless, helpless crushing of humanity in the slave, and the more fearful moral and mental dry-rot it generates in the master.

We have had plenty of literature upon the subject. First of all, in spirit and comprehension, the masterly, careful, copious, and patient works of Mr. Olmsted. But he, like Arthur Young in France, was only an observer. He could be no more. "Uncle Tom," as its "Key" shows, and as Mrs. Kemble declares, was no less a faithful than the most famous witness against the system. But it was a novel. Then there was "American Slavery as it is," a work of authenticated facts, issued by the American Anti-Slavery Society in 1839, and the fearful mass of testimony incessantly published by the distinctively Abolition papers, periodicals, books, and orators, during the last quarter of a century. But the world was deaf. "They have made it a business. They select all the horrors. They accumulate exceptions." Such were the objections that limited the power of this tremendous battery. Meanwhile, also, it was answered. Foreign tourists were taken to "model plantations." They shed tears over the patriarchal benignity of this venerable and beautiful provision of Divine Providence for the spiritual training of our African fellow-creatures. The affection of "Mammy" for "Massa and Missis" was something unknown where hired labor prevailed. Graver voices took up the burden of the song. There was no pauperism in a slave-country. There were no prostitutes. It had its disadvantages, certainly; but what form of society, what system of labor has not? Besides, here it was. It was the interest of slaveholders to be kind. And what a blessing to bring the poor heathen from benighted Africa and pagan servitude to the ennobling influences of Slavery, as practised among Southwestern Christians in America, and "professors" in South Carolina and Georgia! See the Reverend Mr. Adams and Miss Murray _passim_. This was the answer made to the statements of the actual facts of the system, when it was found that the question had gone before public opinion, and would be decided upon its merits by that tribunal, all the panders, bullies, assassins, apologists, and chaplains of Slavery to the contrary notwithstanding. In fact, when that was once clearly perceived, the issue was no less visible; only whether it were to be reached by war or peace was not so plain.

Yet in all this tremendous debate which resounds through the last thirty years of our history, rising and swelling until every other sound was lost in its imperious roar, one decisive voice was silent. It was precisely that which is heard in this book. General statements, harrowing details from those who had been slaveholders, and who had renounced Slavery, were sometimes made public. Indeed, the most cruel and necessary incidents, the hunting with blood-hounds, the branding, the maiming, the roasting, the whipping of pregnant women, could not be kept from knowledge. They blazed into print. But the public, hundreds of miles away, while it sighed and shuddered a little, resolved that such atrocities were exceptional. 'Twas a shocking pity, to be sure! Poor things! Women, too! Tut, tut!

Now, at last, we have no general statement, no single, sickening incident, but the diary of the mistress of plantations of seven hundred slaves, living under the most favorable circumstances, upon the islands at the mouth of the Altamaha River, in Georgia. It is a journal, kept from day to day, of the actual ordinary life of the plantation, where the slaves belonged to educated, intelligent, and what are called the most respectable people,--not persons imbruted by exile among slaves upon solitary islands, but who had lived in large Northern cities and the most accomplished society, subject to all the influences of the highest civilization. It is the journal of a hearty, generous, clear-sighted woman, who went to the plantation, loving the master, and believing, that, though Slavery might be sad, it might also be mitigated, and the slave might be content. It is the record of ghastly undeceiving,--of the details of a system so wantonly, brutally, damnably unjust, inhuman, and degrading, that it blights the country, paralyzes civilization, and vitiates human nature itself. The brilliant girl of the earlier journal is the sobered and solemnized matron of this. The very magnitude of the misery that surrounds her, the traces of which everywhere sadden her eye and wring her heart, compel her to the simplest narration. There is no writing for effect. There is not a single "sensational" passage. The story is monotonous; for the wrong it describes is perpetual and unrelieved. "There is not a single natural right," she says, after some weeks' residence, "that is not taken away from these unfortunate people; and the worst of all is, that their condition does not appear to me, upon further observation of it, to be susceptible of even partial alleviation, as long as the fundamental evil, the Slavery itself, remains."

As the mistress of the plantation, she was brought into constant intercourse with the slave-women; and no other account of this class is so thorough and plainly stated. So pitiful a tale was seldom told. It was a "model plantation"; but every day was darkened to the mistress by the appeals of these women and her observation of their condition. The heart of the reader sickens as hers despaired. To produce "little niggers" for Massa and Missis was the enforced ambition of these poor women. After the third week of confinement they were sent into the fields to work. If they lingered or complained, they were whipped. For beseeching the mistress to pray for some relief in their sad straits, they were also whipped. If their tasks were unperformed, or the driver lost his temper, they were whipped again. If they would not yield to the embrace of the overseer, they were whipped once more. How are they whipped? They are tied by the wrists to a beam or the branch of a tree, their feet barely touching the ground, so that they are utterly powerless to resist; their clothes are turned over their heads, and their backs scarred with a leathern thong, either by the driver himself, or by father, brother, husband, or lover, if the driver choose to order it. What a blessing for these poor heathen that they are brought to a Christian land! When a band of pregnant women came to their master to implore relief from overwork, he seemed "positively degraded" to his wife, as he stood urging them to do their allotted tasks. She began to fear lest she should cease to respect the man she loved; "for the details of slaveholding are so unmanly, letting alone every other consideration, that I know not how any one with the spirit of a man can condescend to them." The master gives a slave as a present to an overseer whose administration of the estate was agreeable to him. The slave is intelligent and capable, the husband of a wife and the father of children, and they are all fondly attached to each other. He passionately declares that he will kill himself rather than follow his new master and leave wife and children behind. Roused by the storm of grief, the wife opens the door of her room, and beholds her husband, with his arms folded, advising his slave "not to make a fuss about what there is no help for." The same master insists that there is no hardship or injustice in whipping a woman who asks his wife to intercede for her, but confesses that it is "disagreeable." At last he tells her that she must no longer fatigue him with the "stuff" and "trash" which "the niggers," who are "all d----d liars," make her believe, and henceforward closes his ears to all complaint.