35. CHAPTER XXXV.
It is next to idle, at the present day, merely to denounce
an iniquity. Be ours, then, a different task.
If there are any three things opposed to the genius of the
American Constitution, they are these: irresponsibility in a
judge, unlimited discretionary authority in an executive, and
the union of an irresponsible judge and an unlimited executive
in one person.
Yet by virtue of an enactment of Congress, all the Commodores
in the American Navy are obnoxious to these three charges,
so far as concerns the punishment of the sailor for alleged misdemeanors
not particularly set forth in the Articles of War.
Here is the enactment in question.
XXXII. Of the Articles of War.—“All crimes committed
by persons belonging to the Navy, which are not specified
in the foregoing articles, shall be punished according to the
laws and customs in such cases at sea.”
This is the article that, above all others, puts the scourge
into the hands of the Captain, calls him to no account for its
exercise, and furnishes him with an ample warrant for inflictions
of cruelty upon the common sailor, hardly credible to
landsmen.
By this article the Captain is made a legislator, as well as
a judge and an executive. So far as it goes, it absolutely
leaves to his discretion to decide what things shall be considered
crimes, and what shall be the penalty; whether an accused
person has been guilty of actions by him declared to be crimes;
and how, when, and where the penalty shall be inflicted.
In the American Navy there is an everlasting suspension
of the Habeas Corpus. Upon the bare allegation of misconduct,
there is no law to restrain the Captain from imprisoning
a seaman, and keeping him confined at his pleasure. While
I was in the Neversink, the Captain of an American sloop
of war, from undoubted motives of personal pique, kept a seaman
confined in the brig for upward of a month.
Certainly the necessities of navies warrant a code for its
government more stringent than the law that governs the
land; but that code should conform to the spirit of the political
institutions of the country that ordains it. It should not
convert into slaves some of the citizens of a nation of freemen.
Such objections can not be urged against the laws of the
Russian Navy (not essentially different from our own), because
the laws of that Navy, creating the absolute one-man
power in the Captain, and vesting in him the authority to
scourge, conform in spirit to the territorial laws of Russia,
which is ruled by an autocrat, and whose courts inflict the
knout upon the subjects of the land. But with us it is different.
Our institutions claim to be based upon broad principles
of political liberty and equality. Whereas, it would hardly
affect one iota the condition on shipboard of an American
man-of-war's-man, were he transferred to the Russian Navy
and made a subject of the Czar.
As a sailor, he shares none of our civil immunities; the law
of our soil in no respect accompanies the national floating timbers
grown thereon, and to which he clings as his home. For
him our Revolution was in vain; to him our Declaration of
Independence is a lie.
It is not sufficiently borne in mind, perhaps, that though
the naval code comes under the head of the martial law, yet,
in time of peace, and in the thousand questions arising between
man and man on board ship, this code, to a certain extent, may
not improperly be deemed municipal. With its crew of 800
or 1000 men, a three-decker is a city on the sea. But in most
of these matters between man and man, the Captain, instead
of being a magistrate, dispensing what the law promulgates,
is an absolute ruler, making and unmaking law as he pleases.
It will be seen that the XXth of the Articles of War provides,
that if any person in the Navy negligently perform the
duties assigned him, he shall suffer such punishment as a
court martial shall adjudge; but if the offender be a private
(common sailor), he may, at the discretion of the Captain, be
put in irons or flogged. It is needless to say, that in cases
where an officer commits a trivial violation of this law, a
court martial is seldom or never called to sit upon his trial;
but in the sailor's case, he is at once condemned to the lash.
Thus, one set of sea-citizens is exempted from a law that is
hung in terror over others. What would landsmen think,
were the State of New York to pass a law against some offence,
affixing a fine as a penalty, and then add to that law
a section restricting its penal operation to mechanics and day
laborers, exempting all gentlemen with an income of one
thousand dollars? Yet thus, in the spirit of its practical operation,
even thus, stands a good part of the naval laws wherein
naval flogging is involved.
But a law should be “universal,” and include in its possible
penal operations the very judge himself who gives decisions
upon it; nay, the very judge who expounds it. Had Sir
William Blackstone violated the laws of England, he would
have been brought before the bar over which he had presided,
and would there have been tried, with the counsel for the
crown reading to him, perhaps, from a copy of his own Commentaries.
And should he have been found guilty, he would
have suffered like the meanest subject, “according to law.”
How is it in an American frigate? Let one example suffice.
By the Articles of War, and especially by Article I.,
an American Captain may, and frequently does, inflict a severe
and degrading punishment upon a sailor, while he himself
is forever removed from the possibility of undergoing the
like disgrace; and, in all probability, from undergoing any
punishment whatever, even if guilty of the same thing—contention
with his equals, for instance—for which he punishes
another. Yet both sailor and captain are American citizens.
Now, in the language of Blackstone, again, there is a law,
“coeval with mankind, dictated by God himself, superior in
obligation to any other, and no human laws are of any validity
if contrary to this.” That law is the Law of Nature;
among the three great principles of which Justinian includes
“that to every man should be rendered his due.” But we
have seen that the laws involving flogging in the Navy do
not render to every man his due, since in some cases they
indirectly exclude the officers from any punishment whatever,
and in all cases protect them from the scourge, which is inflicted
upon the sailor. Therefore, according to Blackstone
and Justinian, those laws have no binding force; and every
American man-of-war's-man would be morally justified in resisting
the scourge to the uttermost; and, in so resisting,
would be religiously justified in what would be judicially
styled “the act of mutiny” itself.
If, then, these scourging laws be for any reason necessary,
make them binding upon all who of right come under their
sway; and let us see an honest Commodore, duly authorized
by Congress, condemning to the lash a transgressing Captain
by the side of a transgressing sailor. And if the Commodore
himself prove a transgressor, let us see one of his brother
Commodores take up the lash against him, even as the
boatswain's mates, the navy executioners, are often called
upon to scourge each other.
Or will you say that a navy officer is a man, but that an
American-born citizen, whose grandsire may have ennobled
him by pouring out his blood at Bunker Hill—will you say
that, by entering the service of his country as a common seaman,
and standing ready to fight her foes, he thereby loses
his manhood at the very time he most asserts it? Will you
say that, by so doing, he degrades himself to the liability of
the scourge, but if he tarries ashore in time of danger, he is
safe from that indignity? All our linked states, all four
continents of mankind, unite in denouncing such a thought.
We plant the question, then, on the topmost argument of all.
Irrespective of incidental considerations, we assert that flogging
in the navy is opposed to the essential dignity of man,
which no legislator has a right to violate; that it is oppressive,
and glaringly unequal in its operations; that it is utterly
repugnant to the spirit of our democratic institutions; indeed,
that it involves a lingering trait of the worst times of a barbarous
feudal aristocracy; in a word, we denounce it as religiously,
morally, and immutably
wrong.
No matter, then, what may be the consequences of its abolition;
no matter if we have to dismantle our fleets, and our
unprotected commerce should fall a prey to the spoiler, the
awful admonitions of justice and humanity demand that abolition
without procrastination; in a voice that is not to be
mistaken, demand that abolition to-day. It is not a dollar-and-cent
question of expediency; it is a matter of right and
wrong. And if any man can lay his hand on his heart, and
solemnly say that this scourging is right, let that man but
once feel the lash on his own back, and in his agony you
will hear the apostate call the seventh heavens to witness
that it is wrong. And, in the name of immortal manhood,
would to God that every man who upholds this thing were
scourged at the gangway till he recanted.
