(The Planet – April 9th, 1843)

The attention of the House of Commons was occupied for several hours on Tuesday, in considering this plain and simple question – “is it just, proper, and becoming, in a Christian Government, to sanction the use of a pernicious drug, to promote its consumption, and to draw a profit from poisoning their fellow-beings?” This was the simple question. It was considerably metamorphosed by fallacies, and overloaded with arguments, and disguised by calculations – the dernier, infallible and safest resort of roguish politicians in latter times.

We admit most fully that our English rulers derive an emolument of some hundred thousands a year from the opium trade, and that, if that trade were put down, the Indian Government would assuredly lose so much solid money. We acknowledge that there would be a pecuniary loss. But then comes the question, which is it better, that thousands of lives should be lost, or thousands of pounds? Which is better, that there should be a temporary embarrassment in the revenues of India, or that there should be an eternal loss of the souls of our fellow-creatures – lost irrecoverably, for the habitual opium eater or smoker is one who never made a sane man again – never again put in possession of those faculties, of which he was the master before he tasted of that most vile narcotic.

We have waged war with China. We have destroyed her inhabitants by the sword – by fire ; we have exterminated them by all those horrid means by which war suppliers her votaries. It was a barbarous war, because the hostilities were carried on by the strong against the weak by the most able against the most fragile – by giants against pigmies – and yet that barbarous, it might be termed, that cowardly war, was yet merciful, compared with our opium war, which we are waging in time of peace. The victims that war, in the battlefield or the siege, makes, can be seen by all, and, therefore, it has at least one merit, it excites the horror of mankind against it ; but the victims of the opium war are not seen. They are not struck down at once, and in the open day – such is not the case with those slaughtered by opium. Theirs is a slow and lingering death – its horrors are greater – the pains it inflicts more agonising, and yet, those who are thus poisoned like noxious reptiles, and slink into corners to die, are thought of, and heard of no more. The Chinese are thus assailed by us with poison. We carefully raise, by means of a monopoly the production of this poison. We draw a large profit from the poison – so large, that we will not allow others, willing to become prisoners, to participate in it. We, who call ourselves a most Christian nation, are the great traders in poison. We make a profit out of crime – we dispense disease – we sell death. We insist that such is our right as a “free, religious nation,” and when it is proposed to put an end to this abomination, to proclaim it as an outrage against the laws of nations, the claims of humanity, and the precepts of religion, what is the answer given by the Government of Sir Robert Peel? “Oh! do not interfere with this important subject. It has not escaped the attention of Her Majesty’s Government – leave it in their hands, they are so anxious to prevent the extension of the opium trade ; and, besides, it would be unjust to interdict the growth of this vegetable in India.” Thus it is, that what is just is shown to be inopportune ; that which is right is to be regarded inexpedient, and that Christianity may not square with fiscal regulations. We are desired to be cautious, when we ought only to act from the honest impulse of our hearts ; and not to be precipitate, and our religious promptings should be our great guide, and an only guide. It is unnecessary to state, that those who voted for the monopoly in corn were also willing to vote that a monopoly in poison should continue – both being profitable!