But in the case of stealing a man, the first act drew down the utmost power of punishment; however often repeated, or however aggravated the crime, human penalty could do no more.  The fact that the penalty for man-stealing was death, and the penalty for property-stealing, the mere restoration of double, shows that the two cases were adjudicated on totally different principles.  The man stolen might be past labor, and his support a burden, yet death was the penalty, though not a cent’s worth of property value was taken.  The penalty for stealing property was a mere property penalty.  However large the amount stolen, the payment of double wiped out the score.  It might have a greater money value than a thousand men, yet death was never the penalty, nor maiming, nor branding, nor even stripes.  Whatever the kind, or the amount stolen, the unvarying penalty was double of the same kind.  Why was not the rule uniform?  When a man was stolen why not require the thief to restore double of the same kind—­two men, or if he had sold him, five men?  Do you say that the man-thief might not have them?  So the ox-thief might not have two oxen, or if he had killed it, five.  But if God permitted men to hold men as property, equally with oxen, the man-thief could get men with whom to pay the penalty, as well as the ox-thief, oxen.

Further, when property was stolen, the whole of the legal penalty was a compensation to the person injured.  But when a man was stolen, no property compensation was offered.  To tender money as an equivalent, would have been to repeat the outrage with the intolerable aggravations of supreme insult and impiety.  Compute the value of a MAN in money! Throw dust into the scale against immortality!  The law recoiled from such outrage and blasphemy.  To have permitted the man-thief to expiate his crime by restoring double, would have been making the repetition of crime its atonement.  But the infliction of death for man-stealing exacted from the guilty wretch the utmost possibility of reparation.  It wrung from him, as he gave up the ghost, a testimony in blood, and death groans, to the infinite dignity and worth of man,—­a proclamation to the universe, voiced in mortal agony, that MAN IS INVIOLABLE,—­a confession shrieked in phrenzy at the grave’s mouth—­“I die accursed, and God is just.”

If God permitted man to hold man as property, why did He punish for stealing that kind of property infinitely more than for stealing any other kind of property?  Why did he punish with death for stealing a very little, perhaps not a sixpence worth, of that sort of property, and make a mere fine, the penalty for stealing a thousand times as much, of any other sort of property—­especially if God did by his own act annihilate the difference between man and property, by putting him on a level with it?