That gentleman of slave-cloth
only knows the part they call the rascality; he pays the gentlemen
of the learned law profession to shuffle him out of all the legal
intricacies that hang around his murderous deeds. He seems revolving
the thing over in his mind at the moment, makes no reply. The
gentleman turns to Mr. Scranton--the same methodical gentleman we
have described with the good Mrs. Rosebrook--hopes he will be good
enough to advise on the point in question. Mr. Scranton sits in all
the dignity of his serious philosophy, quite unmoved; his mind is
nearly distracted about all that is constitutionally right or
constitutionally wrong. He is bound to his own ways of thinking, and
would suffer martyrdom before his own conscientious scruples would
allow him to acknowledge a right superior to that constitution. As
for the humanity! that has nothing to do with the constitution,
nothing to do with the laws of the land, nothing to do with popular
government,--nothing to do with anything, and never should be taken
into consideration when the point at issue involved negro property.
The schedule of humanity would be a poor account at one's banker's.
Mr. Scranton begins to smooth his face, which seems to elongate like
a wet moon. "The question is, as I understand it, gentlemen, how far
the law will give you a right to convict and sell the woman in the
absence of papers and against the assertions of her owner, that she
is free? Now, gentlemen, in the absence of my law books, and without
the least scruple that I am legally right, for I'm seldom legally
wrong, having been many years secretary to a senator in Congress who
made it my particular duty to keep him posted on all points of the
constitution--he drawls out with the serious complacency of a London
beggar--I will just say that, whatever is legal must be just.
Pages:
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296