, all who, _in
whatever form_, or _under whatever name_, undertake to be agents"[218]
in reclaiming fugitive slaves. Yea, upon the very officers of the law
themselves, who, for this purpose, act under and by authority of the
supreme laws of the land, he pours down scorn and derision. Even these,
though in the discharge of an official duty, are--if it be in the power
of Mr. Sumner--to be blasted with abhorrence, indignation, and contempt!

The Constitution declares that the fugitive slave "shall be delivered
up." He shall NOT "be delivered up," says Mr. Sumner; and, in order to
make his words good, he means to create a "public opinion," which no
Southern master dare encounter. Nay, he rejoices to believe that such
public opinion is, in some localities, already created and prepared for
open resistance to the Constitution of the United States. "There are
many," says he, "who will never shrink at any cost, and, notwithstanding
all the atrocious penalties of this bill, from efforts to save a
wandering fellow-man from bondage. They will offer him the shelter of
their houses, and, IF NEED BE, WILL PROTECT HIS LIBERTY BY FORCE."[219]
Horrible words! Words tending directly to a conflict in which the
brightest hopes of humanity must perish, and the glory of the Republic
be extinguished in oceans of blood.

In the face of such things, we are imperiously constrained to doubt Mr.
Sumner's regard for the obligation of the oath which binds him to
support the Constitution of his country. It is certain that he can
rejoice in the breach of this obligation by others. A certain judge in
Vermont, who, like every other State officer, had taken an oath to
support the Constitution of the United States, just set Constitution,
laws, evidence, all at defiance, and boldly declared that the fugitive
should _not_ be delivered up, "_unless the master could show a bill of
sale from the Almighty_." This deed, which, in the language of
Chancellor Walworth, is stamped with "the moral guilt of perjury,"
appears heroic to Mr. Sumner, by whom it is related with evident
delight. It would seem, indeed, as if the moral sensibility of an
abolitionist of his stamp is all drawn to a single point of his
conscience, so that it can feel absolutely nothing except slavery. It
seems dead to the obligation of an oath, to the moral guilt of perjury.
Nay, it seems to rejoice in the very bravery of its perpetration,
provided it only enables a fugitive slave to effect his