Virginia was inconsistent and uncandid. By the Declaration of Rights prefixed to her Constitution it was announced that “ALL MEN, having sufficient evidence of permanent common interest with and attachment to the community, have the right of suffrage,” without distinction of color; and it is added, that they “_cannot be taxed or deprived of their property for public uses without their own consent_ or that of their representatives so elected, nor bound by any law to which they have not in like manner assented for the public good.” This was entirely worthy of the eminent citizens who adorned that State. But a subsequent provision of the Constitution preserved the right of suffrage “as exercised at present”: thus embodying, without naming, the legislative exclusion of free negroes, mulattoes, and Indians, “although such persons be freeholders.” This discreditable manœuvre becomes more notable in view of an incident in the early history of Virginia, curious and important, and also applicable to all the States during their colonial existence. It was on the enactment of a statute in 1723, “that no free negro, mulatto, or Indian whatsoever shall hereafter have any vote at the election of burgesses, or any other election whatsoever,”[158] when the tyranny here manifest was rebuked with unexpected plainness. The legal authority in England, to whom this colonial statute was submitted for review and approval, reported, in admirable words:--
“I cannot see why one freeman should be used worse than another _merely upon account of his complexion_.… To vote at elections of officers, either for a county or parish, &c., is incident to every freeman who is possessed of a certain amount of property.”[159]
Georgia was fitful. By her Constitution of 1777, in existence immediately anterior to the National Constitution, suffrage was confined to “male _white_ inhabitants.” But a Constitution adopted May 6, 1789, and another adopted May 30, 1798, accorded suffrage to “citizens and inhabitants,” with certain specified qualifications, but without the word “white.”
It only remains to speak of South Carolina, the persistent marplot of republican institutions, where, by the Constitution, the suffrage was vested in “every free _white_ man, and no other person,” with certain specified qualifications. This was the only State among the original Thirteen, unless Georgia be grouped with South Carolina, which at that time allowed a color discrimination in its Constitution. It was the only State which, after uniting in a National Declaration that “all men are created equal,” openly and audaciously commenced the example of “a white man’s government.” This apostate idea, which has since played such a part as a disturber of the national peace, was then and there born, as the opposite idea was born in Massachusetts, under the inspiring words of James Otis. And the other States, in their Constitutions, followed this patriot voice. They spoke of “persons,” “inhabitants,” “freemen,” or, better still, “men,” without prefix of “white.” Color was not mentioned. But even in South Carolina, which introduced the discreditable tyranny into her Constitution, this exclusion was more apparent than real. In point of fact, even as late as 1790, when the first census was taken, there were in this State only one thousand eight hundred and one free colored citizens. Of course their exclusion was wrong, mean, and unrepublican; but I do not assert that it was such a case as to justify the interference of the nation to reform it, especially where there was no lapse of the State Government. On the other hand, its sufferance cannot be interpreted as a waiver of the principles for which the Revolution was fought. But even in South Carolina there had been a spasm of virtue. In 1757 there was a “flourishing negro school” at Charleston, and in 1709 we find a complaint that “even negroes” had been admitted to vote. Though denounced as an abuse, the precedent is authenticated by a disgusted inhabitant.[160]