Charles Sumner; his complete works, volume 7 (of 20)

Letter to a Political Antislavery Convention at Worcester, Massachusetts, September 9, 1860.

Letter to a Public Meeting at Syracuse, New York, September 9, 1860.

Speech at a Mass Meeting of Republicans, in the Open Air, at Myrick’s Station, Massachusetts, September 18, 1860.

FELLOW-CITIZENS,—Knowing well the character of the good people in the region where we are assembled, I feel that our cause is safe in your hands; nor do you need my voice to quicken the generous zeal which throbs in all your hearts. Proceeding from intelligence and from conscience, your zeal, I am sure, is wise, steady, and determined, even if it do not show itself in much speaking,—like your own faithful Representative in Congress, Mr. Buffinton, who never misses a vote, and whose presence alone is often as good as a speech. He will pardon me, if I say that I am glad to see him here among his constituents, so many of whom I now meet for the first time face to face.

You would hardly bear with me, if, on this occasion, I undertook to occupy your time at length. There is a time for all things; and let me say frankly, that I have come here to mingle with my fellow-citizens, and to partake of their social joy, rather than to make a speech. And yet I cannot let the opportunity pass without undertaking for a brief moment to impress upon you our duties in one single aspect,—I mean simply as citizens of Massachusetts. Of course you have duties as men, belonging to the great human family; you have duties also as American citizens, belonging to this National Republic; and you have duties especially as citizens of Massachusetts, not inconsistent with those other duties, but merely cumulative and confirmatory. Happily, in all good governments duties do not clash, but harmonize; and we may well suspect any pretension, whatever name it assumes, which cannot bear this touchstone.

As men, our duties have been grandly denoted in that ancient verse which aroused the applause of the Roman theatre:—

What can be broader or more Christian than this heathen utterance? Sympathy, kindness, succor are due from man to man. This is a debt which, though daily paid, can never be cancelled while life endures. And this debt has the sanction of Religion, so that wrong to man is impiety to God. Of course, in the constant discharge of this debt, we must be the enemies of injustice, wherever it shows itself. Nor can we hesitate because injustice is organized in the name of Law and assumes the front of Power. On this very account we must be the more resolute against it.

As citizens of the United States, our duties, fixed in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, are of the same character. I say, fixed in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence; for to these, as our guides, I look. Follow Nature, if you would be its interpreter. This is the Novum Organum of Lord Bacon. And so you must follow the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, if you would be their interpreter. This is the Novum Organum of the Republican party. Nothing can be clearer than that these two instruments, if followed to their natural meaning, are in harmony with all the suggestions of justice and humanity; so that our duties as men are all reaffirmed by our duties as American citizens.

And, lastly, as citizens of Massachusetts our duties are identical, but reinforced by circumstances in her history; so that, if, as men, or as citizens of the United States, we hesitate, yet as citizens of Massachusetts we are not allowed to hesitate. By the example of our fathers, who laid the foundations of this Commonwealth in knowledge and in justice, who built schools and set their faces against Slavery, we are urged to special effort. As their children, we must strive to develop and extend those principles which they had so much at heart, and which constitute their just fame.

In the recent conflicts of party it is common to heap insult upon Massachusetts. Hard words are often employed. Some of her own children turn against her. But it is in vain. From the past learn the future. See how from the beginning she has led the way. This has been her office. She led in the long battle of argument which ended in the War of Independence, so that European historians have called our Revolutionary Fathers simply “the insurgents of Boston,” and have announced the object of the war as simply “justice to Boston.” And she has also led in all enterprises of human improvement, especially in the establishment of public schools and the abolition of Slavery. We are told that a little leaven shall leaven the whole lump; it is the Massachusetts leaven which is now stirring the whole country. Wherever education is organized at the public expense, or human rights are respected, there is seen the influence of Massachusetts, who has been not only schoolmaster, but chain-breaker. Such are her titles. Men may rail, but they cannot rail these away. Look at them in her history.

In the winter of 1620 the Mayflower landed its precious cargo on Plymouth Rock. This small band, cheered by the valedictory prayers of its beloved pastor, John Robinson, braved sea and wilderness for the sake of Liberty. In this inspiration our Commonwealth began. That same year, another cargo, of another character, was landed at Jamestown in Virginia. It was twenty slaves,—the first that ever touched and desecrated our soil. Never in history was greater contrast. There was the Mayflower, filled with men, intelligent, conscientious, prayerful, all braced to hardy industry, who before landing united in a written compact by which they constituted themselves “a civil body politic,” bound “to frame just and equal laws.” And there was the Slave-Ship, with its fetters, its chains, its bludgeons, and its whips,—with its wretched victims, forerunners of the long agony of the Slave-Trade, and with its wretched tyrants, rude, ignorant, profane,

carrying in their hold that barbarous Slavery, whose single object is to compel labor without wages, which no “just and equal laws” can sanction. Thus in the same year began two mighty influences; and these two influences still prevail far and wide throughout the country. But they have met at last in final grapple, and we are partakers in the holy conflict. The question is simply between the Mayflower and the Slave-Ship,—which of the two to choose?

True to her origin, Massachusetts began at once that noble system of Common Schools which continues her “peculiar institution,” while a College was founded at Cambridge which has grown to be a light throughout the land. Thus together began Common Schools and the College, and together they have flourished always. Said one of her early teachers, in most affecting words,—“After God had carried us safe to New England, and we had builded our houses, provided necessaries for our livelihood, reared convenient places for God’s worship, and settled the civil government, one of the next things we longed for and looked after was to advance learning and perpetuate it to posterity, dreading to leave an illiterate ministry to the churches when our present ministers shall lie in the dust.”[2] In this spirit it was ordered by the General Court, as early as 1642, “That in every town the chosen men appointed for managing the prudential affairs of the same … shall have power to take account from time to time of all parents and masters, and of their children, concerning their calling and employment of their children, especially of their ability to read and understand the principles of religion and the capital laws of this country.”[3] This was followed only a few years later, in 1647, by that famous law which ordered, “That every township in this jurisdiction, after the Lord hath increased them to the number of fifty householders, shall then forthwith appoint one within their town to teach all such children as shall resort to him to write and read,” and “that, where any town shall increase to the number of one hundred families or householders, they shall set up a grammar school, the master thereof being able to instruct youth so far as they may be fitted for the University”; and this law, in its preamble, assigned as its object the counteraction of “one chief project of that old deluder, Satan, to keep men from the knowledge of the Scriptures,” and also “that learning may not be buried in the grave of our fathers in the Church and Commonwealth.”[4] To nothing in her history can Massachusetts look with more pride than to this commanding example, which, wherever followed, must open wide the gates of human improvement.

Again, mindful that printing is the indispensable minister of good learning, they established a printing-press without delay. This was at Cambridge, as early as 1639, and the first thing printed was “The Freeman’s Oath.”

Meanwhile the Slave-Ship continued its voyages and discharged its baleful cargoes. Virginia became a Slave State and the natural consequences of Slavery ensued. Of course the Common School was unknown; for, where Slavery rules, the schoolmaster is shut out. One of her Governors, Sir William Berkeley, said in 1671, “I thank God there are no free schools nor printing, and I hope we shall not have these hundred years; for learning has brought disobedience and heresy and sects into the world, and printing has divulged them and libels against the best government. God keep us from both!”[5] These remarkable words, which embodied the political philosophy of Slavery, were in an official reply to interrogatories propounded from England.

Thus early was the contrast manifest, which has increased ever since. The evidence is unimpeachable, whether we consult the faithful historian who tells us that early in the last century Boston alone contained five printing-offices and many booksellers, while there was not a single bookseller in Virginia, Maryland, or Carolina,[6]—or consult the various statistics of the census in our day, where figures speak with most persuasive power for the Mayflower against the Slave-Ship.

While Massachusetts thus founded the School and the Printing-Press, what was her course on Slavery? Alas! not all that we could wish, but still enough to make her an example. Unhappily, Slavery, although in much mitigated form, came to be recognized here. But it never flourished, and it was from the beginning surrounded with impediments to increase. To our glory let it be known that no person could be born a slave on our soil. This odious yoke was not transmissible in the blood. It ended with life, and did not visit itself upon the children of the slave-mother.[7] It appears also that the slave could take and hold property,[8]—which no American slave can now do. He could also testify in courts of justice, like a white man,—which no American slave, nor colored person in a Slave State, can now do. A slave, called “Andrew, Mr. Oliver Wendell’s negro,” also “Newtown Prince, a free negro,” and “Cato, a negro man,” were witnesses in the proceedings against the British soldiers for what is known as the Boston Massacre.[9] And still further, there were times when the negro, whether bond or free, was enlisted in the militia, and “enjoined to attend trainings as well as the English.”[10] Indeed, as early as 1643, on the muster-roll of Plymouth is the name of “Abraham Pearse, the blackamore.”[11] Thus, though Slavery had a certain recognition, it did not give its unjust law to the body politic and to the social life of Massachusetts.

It was natural, therefore, that her General Court should bear witness against “man-stealing.” This it did as far back as 1646, in formal act worthy of perpetual memory. A Boston ship had brought home two negroes kidnapped on the coast of Guinea. Thus spoke the Massachusetts of that day:—

Mark the energy of this language. Here is an example, more than a century before Clarkson or Wilberforce, which blasts with just indignation the horrid crime still skulking beneath our national flag. The government that could issue this decree was inconsistent with itself, when it allowed a single person bearing the upright form of man to be held a slave, even for life, anywhere within its jurisdiction.

Slavery flees before the schoolmaster. As early as 1701, its injustice was formally declared by the town of Boston, whose Records contain the following vote, proper for adoption at this day: “The Representatives are desired to promote the encouraging the bringing of white servants, and to put a period to negroes being slaves.”[13] By this official corporate act, first of the kind in history, Boston stands foremost in the warfare with Slavery. Let her be proud of this post. Her wealth may depart, her warehouses may crumble, her ships may cease to cleave the seas with their keels, and her writers, too, may lose their charm; but this early record of justice and humanity will endure in never-failing brightness.

Other official acts followed. In 1705 a heavy duty was imposed upon every negro imported into Massachusetts. In 1712 the importation of Indians as servants or slaves was strictly forbidden. But the small number of slaves, and the mildness with which their condition was tempered, or, perhaps, a still immature public opinion, postponed definitive action on this great question until our controversy with the mother country, when the rights of the blacks were blended by all true patriots with the rights of the whites. James Otis, in pleading for the Colonies, denounced Slavery of all kinds, while Samuel Adams, on learning from his wife that she had received the gift of a female slave, exclaimed at once, “A slave cannot live in my house; if she comes, she must be free”: she came, and was free.[14] Sparing all unnecessary details, suffice it to say, that, as early as 1769, the Superior Court of Massachusetts, anticipating the renowned judgment in Somerset’s case, established the principle of Emancipation, and under its touch of benign power changed a chattel into a man. In the same spirit voluntary manumissions took place,—as by Jonathan Jackson, of Newburyport, who, in a deed, which may be found in the Probate Records of the County of Suffolk, declared that it was “in consideration of the impropriety long felt in holding any person in constant bondage, more especially at a time when his country is so warmly contending for the liberty every man ought to enjoy.”[15] At last, in 1780, even before the triumph of Yorktown had assured that peace which set its seal upon National Independence, Massachusetts, enlightened by her common schools, filled with the sentiment of Freedom, and guided by Revolutionary patriots, placed in front of her Declaration of Rights the emphatic words, “All men are born free and equal,” and by this solemn testimony, enforced by her courts, made Slavery impossible within her borders. From that time it ceased to exist, so that the first census after the adoption of the National Constitution, in the enumeration of slaves, contains a blank against the name of Massachusetts; and this is the only State having this honor. Thus of old did Massachusetts lead the way.

If all this be good for Massachusetts, if she has wisely rejected Slavery, then is it her duty to do for others within the reach of her influence what she has done for herself. And here her sons have not always been remiss. Follow her history, and you find that on the national field they have stood forth for the good cause. In 1785, one of her Representatives in the Continental Congress, the eminent Rufus King, moved the prohibition of Slavery in the Territories of the United States; and in 1787, Nathan Dane, another of her Representatives, reported the Ordinance for the Government of the Northwest Territory, containing this same prohibition. At a later day, when the Missouri Compromise was under discussion, that same son of Massachusetts, Rufus King, whose home was transferred to New York, showed himself inflexible against compromise with Slavery, and in the Senate of the United States, with all his weight of years, character, and ability, led the effort to restrict it. John Quincy Adams, another son of Massachusetts, was at the time Secretary of State, and he enrolled himself on the same side. Afterwards, when the discussion of Slavery was renewed in Congress, this same champion, then a Representative from Massachusetts, entered the lists for Freedom, and in his old age, having been President, achieved a second fame. Slavery, now exalted by its partisans as beneficent and just, he exposed in its enormity; the knot of Slave-Masters who had domineered over the country he denounced with withering scorn; while he vindicated the right of petition, which Slave-Masters assailed, and upheld the primal truths of the Declaration of Independence, which Slave-Masters audaciously denied. Thus constantly spoke Massachusetts, and in her voice was the voice of the Mayflower against the Slave-Ship.

Plainly there is a common bond between the charities, so that one draws others in its train. And the grand charity for which we to-day bless our Commonwealth is only one of many by which she is already illustrious. Goodness grows by activity, and the moral and intellectual character which inspired Massachusetts to do what she has done for Freedom makes her active, wherever the suffering are to be relieved, wherever the ignorant are to be taught, or wherever the lowly are to be elevated, and enables her, though small in extent and churlish in soil, to exert a wide-spread power. This character has given her that name on earth which is a source of pride to her children. Strike out from her life all that is due to this influence, and how great the blank in her history! I do not say that her children would disown her; but they would hardly rise up to call her blessed, as they now do.

It is our duty to keep Massachusetts in her present commanding position,—true to herself in all respects,—true to that Spirit of Liberty in which she had her origin,—true to the “just and equal laws” promised in the Mayflower,—true to her early and long-continued efforts against Slavery,—true to the declaration in her own Bill of Rights by which Slavery was abolished within her borders,—true to the examples of her illustrious representatives, Rufus King, Nathan Dane, and John Quincy Adams,—and, lastly, true to that moral and intellectual character which has made her the home of generous charities, the nurse of true learning, and the land of churches. This is our duty. And permit me to say, that this can be done now only by earnest, steadfast effort to arrest the power of Slavery, overshadowing the whole country, and menacing boundless regions with its malign influence. And this is the very purpose of the Republican party.

Against the Republican party are arrayed three factions, differing in name, differing superficially in professions, but all concurring in hostility to the Prohibition of Slavery in the Territories, and therefore all three Proslavery. As the Republican party represents the Mayflower, so do these three factions, whether fused or apart, represent the original Slave-Ship,—and you, fellow-citizens, are here to choose between them.

In this contest we appeal to all good citizens. We appeal alike to the Conservative and to the Reformer; for our reasonable and most moderate purpose commends itself alike to both. To the Conservative it says, “Join us to preserve the work of our fathers, and to maintain the time-honored policy of Massachusetts.” To the Reformer it says, “Join us to improve the human family, to support free labor, and to save the Territories from that deplorable condition where ‘one man ruleth over another to his own hurt,’ and human character suffers as much from the arrogance of the master as from the abasement of the slave,—a condition which is founded on nothing else but force,—

Our course is commended also by our candidates. Of Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Hamlin I have already elsewhere spoken, and know that in this presence it is needless to speak of Mr. Andrew. You all anticipate his praise before it can be uttered. Of unquestioned abilities, extensive attainments, and rare aptitude for affairs, his integrity has already passed into a proverb, and his broad sympathies cause us to forget the lawyer in the man. Nobody questions his intelligence, or the happy faculties which make him at home in all that he attempts. But it is sometimes complained that he has a “heart,” as if this were dangerous in a Massachusetts Governor; and fears are excited because he is “honest,” as if such a character could not be trusted. Thank God, he has a heart, and is an honest man. In these respects, and in his well-matured convictions, always expressed with honorable frankness, he embodies the historic idea of Massachusetts, and treads in the footsteps of the Fathers.

Fellow-citizens, if I have dwelt exclusively on our duties as citizens of Massachusetts, it is because I seek to impress these especially upon your minds. On other occasions I have treated other parts of the argument; but to-day my hope is to make you feel that you cannot turn from the Republican party without turning also from those principles by which Massachusetts has won her place in history, and without turning from the Mayflower, and its promise of “just and equal laws,” to embark on that dismal Slave-Ship which in the same year first let loose upon our country all the cruel wrongs and woes of Human Bondage.

Letter to the Agent for receiving Contributions, September 19, 1860.

Remarks at the Annual Opening of the Fraternity Lectures of Boston, October 1, 1860.

Fellow-Citizens, Ladies, and Gentlemen:—

In opening this course of lectures, devoted to Human Improvement, I cannot forget that noble spirit, especially dear to many of you as pastor, whom we had hoped to welcome at this time in restored health, instead of mourning dead in a distant land. I knew him well, and never came within his influence without confessing his many-sided powers, his marvellous acquirements, his rare eloquence, his soul touched to so many generous sympathies, and his heart beating warm for his fellow-men. To the cause of Human Improvement, in every form, his life was given. For this he labored; for this he died.

It was my fortune to see him during several days in Paris, some time after he parted from you. He had recently arrived from the West Indies. I feel that I cannot err in offering a slight reminiscence of that meeting. I found him the same in purpose and aspiration as I had always known him,—earnest, thoughtful, and intent on all that helped the good of man, with the same completeness of intelligence, and the same large, loving heart. We visited together ancient by-ways and historic scenes of that wonderful metropolis, which no person was more forward to appreciate and to enjoy; but, turning from these fascinating objects, his conversation took the wings of the morning, and, traversing the Atlantic, rested on our own country, on friends at home, on his relations to his parishioners, on his unfinished labors, and on that great cause of Liberty, which contains all other causes, as the greater contains the less; for where Liberty is not, what is man, whether slave or master? Observing him carefully, with the fellow-feeling of a convalescent, I was glad and surprised to find in him so many signs of health. At that time he was stronger than I was; but he has been taken, and I am spared. Indeed, it was only in the husky whisper of his voice that he seemed weak. I envied him much his active step and his power to walk. But he had measured his forces, and calmly revealed to me his doubt whether he should live to see home again. If this were permitted, he did not expect to resume his old activities, but thought that in some quiet retreat, away from paved streets, surrounded by books, he might perhaps have strength to continue some of his labors, to bind up some of his sheaves, and occasionally to speak with his pen. But it was ordered otherwise. Not even this moderate anticipation was gratified. The fatal disease had fastened too surely upon him, and was slowly mastering all resistance. The devotion of friends, travel, change of scene, the charms of Switzerland, the classic breath of Italy, all were in vain. It was his wish that he should be buried where he fell, and this child of New England, the well-ripened product of her peculiar life, now sleeps in Tuscan earth, on the banks of the Arno, near the sepulchres of Michel Angelo and Galileo. But I know not if even this exalted association can make us content to renounce the pious privilege of laying him in one of our own tombs, among the people that he loved so well.

Pardon me for thus renewing your grief. But I felt that I could not address you on any other subject until I had mingled my feelings with yours, and our hearts had met in sympathy for our great bereavement.

Speech at a Mass Meeting of Republicans, in the Open Air, at Framingham, Massachusetts, October 11, 1860.

FELLOW-CITIZENS,—The German Siebold begins his great treatise on the “Anatomy of the Invertebrates” with this general remark:—

In this remark of the illustrious naturalist I find an explanation of the number of parties now arrayed against us. On one side is the Republican party, openly declaring its principles, and looking with confidence to the Future. Threats of disunion, and menaces of violence, in constant cry, do not disturb it. Such a party may properly be called the Backbone party, or, adopting the phraseology of the German naturalist, the party of the Vertebrates.

But against the Republican party here in Massachusetts are three parties, or factions rather, which cannot be precisely named except from their candidates. Differing from each other superficially, they all concur in practical support of Slavery. At this moment, when the propagandists of Slavery insist upon its extension into the Territories, all these three factions lend themselves actively or passively to this work, and thus become practically Proslavery. Unwilling here in Massachusetts openly to advocate a wrong so unmistakable as Slavery, they find excuse in alleged danger to the Union, and bend before the threats and menaces of Slave-Masters. Not in the name of Freedom, which is really in danger, but in the name of the Union, which is only threatened, do they all three rally against the Republican party. In their flexibility to threats and menaces, they show a want of that backbone which characterizes the Republican party. In short, though differing from each other, they all take their place among Invertebrates, which, according to the naturalist, are of more various types than Vertebrates.

There is the Bell faction, the Breckinridge faction, and the Douglas faction, all three Invertebrates, declaring that the Union is in danger, and asking your votes in order to save it. That is, they ask you to abandon cherished convictions, and to allow Slavery, with all its Barbarism, to enter the outlying Territories of the Republic, simply because certain Slave-Masters threaten disunion. Instead of opposing the treason which is threatened, Freedom-loving voters of the North are summoned to surrender. Instead of scorning the violence which is menaced, we are asked to cringe before it. I ask you if this is not the special point of every appeal by any speaker representing either of these factions? No man so audacious here in Massachusetts as to argue for Slavery openly. He knows that his argument would be scouted. It is therefore by appeal for the Union that people are deluded. In this way the weak are cajoled, the timeserving are seduced, and the timid are frightened; and people professing opposition to Slavery gravely come forward as supporters of these Proslavery factions.

The unknown is apt to be exaggerated; so that, if these threats of disunion were now heard for the first time, we might, perhaps, pardon men who yield to their influence. But since this is not the first time such cries are heard,—since, indeed, they have been long sounding in our ears, so that their exact value is perfectly understood from the very beginning,—there seems no longer excuse or apology for hearkening to them. They are to be treated as threats, and nothing more. Look at them from the outset, and you will see their constant recurrence as weapons of political warfare.

Even while the Constitution was under discussion in the National Convention, the threats began. Georgia and South Carolina announced that they would not come into the Union, unless the African Slave-Trade, so dear in their sight, was allowed for twenty years under the Constitution; and the North ignominiously yielded this barbarous privilege, thus consenting to piracy. The cry from these States was then, “We will not come in.” Ever since it has been, “We will not stay in.”

One of the earliest and most characteristic outcries was on the ratification of Jay’s Treaty in 1795. This famous treaty, negotiated by John Jay, at that time Chief Justice of the United States, under the instructions of Washington, provided for the surrender of the Western posts by Great Britain, and indemnity to our merchants for spoliations on their commerce, and also the adjustment of claims of British merchants upon our citizens. In the opposition which it encountered we meet the following threat of disunion in Virginia, published in Davis’s Gazette, at Richmond.

Thus early was this menace tried. But the treaty was ratified.

The menace was employed with more effect to secure the adoption of the Missouri Compromise. This was in 1820. Missouri applied for admission into the Union as a Slaveholding State. Her admission was opposed by the North on the declared ground that it was not right to give any such sanction to Slavery. Thus the whole Slave Question was opened; and it was discussed with much thoroughness and ability, under the lead of Rufus King, once an eminent representative of Massachusetts, but at that time a venerable Senator from New York. Overthrown in argument, the Slave-Masters resorted to threats of disunion. The Union was pronounced in danger, and under this cry a compromise, first suggested in the House by Louis McLane, a Representative from Delaware, and in the Senate by William Pinkney, a Senator from Maryland, was adopted, by virtue of which Missouri was admitted as a Slave State, while Slavery was prohibited in the remaining territory north of 36° 30´, at that time trodden only by Indians. The special operative gain to the Slave-Masters was the admission of Missouri as a Slave State, with two new slaveholding Senators to confirm their predominance in the Senate; and this was notoriously secured under threats of disunion, by which weak men at the North were intimidated.

A record at the time by the late Mr. Justice Story, who was then at Washington, shows the temper especially of Virginia. Writing to a friend at home, he says:—

Such is the testimony of a tranquil observer, friend and associate of that illustrious Virginian, John Marshall, who witnessed this manifestation of the bullying spirit, and judged it.

Ten years passed, from 1820 to 1830, and the cry was raised again. It was now on the allegation of injustice in our Tariff. Here South Carolina took the lead, and openly threatened Nullification,—in the face of the arguments of Daniel Webster and the proclamations of Andrew Jackson. A modification of the tariff became necessary before this cry of “wolf” ceased. General Jackson, in a private letter written at the time, and now in the possession of our candidate, Mr. Andrew, predicts that “the Negro Question” will be the next occasion for it;[20] and he was right.

The subject of Slavery came up in Congress on petitions as early as 1835, and then commenced the great career of John Quincy Adams, as champion of Freedom, eclipsing even all his glories as diplomatist and President. At the presentation of petitions by this illustrious statesman, the old threats were revived; and falling before them, the Right of Petition itself was sacrificed. You all remember the depth of this humiliation.

This was followed by still another, on the introduction of the Wilmot Proviso, which was simply a proposition to prohibit Slavery in the Territories. The same threats broke forth with increased violence. Citizens at the North, while avowing hostility to Slavery, professed to be alarmed for the Union. Again they bowed, and in 1850 assisted in those Acts of Compromise, by which the Territories of Utah and New Mexico were left open to Slavery, and a Fugitive Slave Bill was passed, outraging alike every principle of Constitutional Liberty and every sentiment of Humanity. Here was surrender to this cry.

The menace of disunion at the South became chronic. Not a day passed that it was not uttered. At length, in 1856, John C. Fremont was nominated as candidate for the Presidency by the Republican party. As his election seemed at hand, we were again encountered by the same old threats. We were told, that, even if elected according to the forms of the Constitution, the Slave-Masters would not allow him to be inaugurated, and people at the North were summoned ignominiously to vote against him for the safety of the Union; and they surrendered to the call. Without this, John C. Fremont would have been chosen President. Thus again did the old menace prevail; and the chronic cry still continued, showing itself on the election of a Speaker, and then on the approval of Mr. Helper’s book by sixty-seven Members of Congress.[21]

And now Abraham Lincoln is the candidate, instead of John C. Fremont. Again the threats are renewed with increased animosity, and you are asked to vote against a statesman of marked abilities and blameless character, representing the early sentiments of the Fathers, simply because Slave-Masters menace disunion in the event of his election. Bending with invertebrate backs before these threats, you are called to surrender your principles, your votes, and your souls.

Thus seven times, at seven different stages in our history, since the adoption of the Constitution, has this menace of disunion been made to play its part. Whatever it might have been at first, it is now nothing more than “second childishness and mere oblivion, sans everything.” There is nothing in it which should not be treated with indignant contempt, certainly when employed here in Massachusetts to make us sacrifice our principles.

Absurd on the face, its absurdity is fully appreciated only when we consider its impotence as a remedy for the alleged grievances of the Slave States. They complain that fugitive slaves are not faithfully surrendered,—or, in other words, that some score or two of human beings, following the North Star, with the assistance of Northern men, succeed in securing their freedom. But disunion surely would be a poor remedy for this intolerable grievance; for it would leave them without even their present protection in this respect, without a Fugitive Slave Bill, or any constitutional safeguard, so that all fugitives, just so soon as they crossed the frontiers of the Slave States, would become free,—precisely as if Canada, with its British welcome to slaves, were carried down to the borders of Virginia and Maryland. If slaves escape now, what would they do then? If such things are done in the green tree, what would be done in the dry? Surely, in this case, it were better to

The other grievance is of the same character. The Slave-Masters complain, that, by the prohibition of Slavery in the Territories, they are deprived of the opportunity of new Slave States through which their predominance in the Senate may be continued. But, pray, what remedy for this loss can be found in disunion? Surely they cannot add to their present political strength by renouncing securities and dignities which they now enjoy in the national copartnership. It is true, that, while in the Union, they may be voted down on matters within the national jurisdiction and outside of the States; but they may nevertheless exert an influence, which on their withdrawal must be entirely renounced.

Such are the two grievances which are to justify disunion; and pardon me, if I venture to illustrate the irrational character of this remedy by an incident of scientific interest. The monkey in the Jardin des Plantes at Paris was found biting the rope by which he was suspended from the roof. “See,” said the learned professor, “that monkey shows the difference between brutes and men. He sees what he is doing, but does not see the consequence,—that down he will fall.” And the Slave States also bite the rope by which they are suspended, and, like the unreasoning brute, see not the consequence.

Yet more apparent is the absurdity of this threat, when we consider how it is to be accomplished. If the Slave States were solemnly unanimous at home, the cry might have a certain force. But it is well known that they are not unanimous. Whatever the threats of disorganizing extremists, the large mass of people even in the Slave States do not desire disunion. They keep aloof now from such threats, and openly declare their purpose to put down the traitors without assistance from the North; and this I cannot doubt would be done. Such men as Cassius M. Clay and the Blairs would find a field for their energies, and they would see at their side people who have not hitherto acted with them gladly forgetting past differences for the sake of a common cause. Here are emphatic words, just uttered by a speaker at the South, in reply to Mr. Yancey, which show that any such attempt would fare badly, even at home:—

But the absurdity of this threat glares upon us still more, when we reflect on the unhappy condition in which disunion would leave the seceding Slave States. Antiquity, by numerous instances, declares the danger from slaves, and history is continually verifying this truth. Even now, while I speak, we hear of insurrection at Norfolk, in Virginia, carrying with it wide-spread alarm, and the necessity for most especial vigilance. But in the event of disunion this condition would become permanent, so that life, if not a tragedy, would be a penance long drawn out. The whole region cursed with Slavery would be dotted over with fortifications and military posts; communities would be changed into camps carefully guarded against surprise; life would be as in Turkey or Tartary; and every Slave-Master would sleep with all the precautions of a highwayman fearing arrest, or of the mad prince, Don Carlos of Spain, who had two naked swords and two loaded pistols under his bed, and two arquebuses with powder and balls in his closet. The mother, as she heard the fire-bell at midnight, would clasp her infant to her breast, fearful that at last the long hoarded resentments of the slave would be vindictively indulged. Even the soil, now so productive, would refuse its increase; for Nature herself would cease to smile amidst the alarms of servile war. Thus cruelly harassed and impoverished at home, the Slave States could find little comfort abroad. For a brief moment they might brave the scorn and contempt poured upon them; but they must fail to have the sensibilities of men, or they would at last shrink before the finger-point of the civilized world. The house of Lycaon, the cruel king of early Greece, was destroyed by the thunder of Jove, and the miserable monarch changed to a wolf. Such would be the doom of a State which set at defiance the laws of Humanity. It would have a wolf’s head, and all would be against it.

The States which especially threaten secession are on the Mexican Gulf, and they have become known already as “The Gulf Squadron.” Not yet wolves, they are now ships. Let them sail, with the black flag at the mast-head. I know not how the tale would end, but I know well that Slavery could not gain. Their dismal fate is, perhaps, prefigured in that of the slaver loaded down with its human cargo, where the crew were all struck with ophthalmia, and in this condition of blindness, while vainly striving to navigate the vessel, and weltering on the sea, were at last picked up by a charitable cruiser and carried into port. Or perhaps it is prefigured in that of the famous craft known in story as “The Flying Dutchman,” which, darkened by piracy and murder, was doomed to perpetual cruise, unable to enter a port:—

Such is Disunion, in the history of its threats,—also in the reasons now alleged for it, the difficulties in its way, and its dismal consequences. But in all these aspects, from the beginning, we find but one supreme absurdity. It is the same, whether we ask Why? How? or What?

And yet you and I here in Massachusetts are summoned, under threats of disunion, to withdraw opposition to the extension of Slavery, and in token thereof to vote for Bell, or Breckinridge, or Douglas. I can do no such thing; nor do I see how any Northern man, with a head on his shoulders, or a heart in his bosom, or a backbone in his body, can do any such thing. Nor must fealty to the Union be measured by loud-mouthed profession. Not Cordelia, loving her father, in all simplicity, “according to her bond,” but the sisters Goneril and Regan, so fervent in professions, sacrificed him. And I do not hesitate to declare that the Republican party is the only true Union party. In the first place, it is the only party which is not connected in some way, by association, affiliation, communion, or sympathy, with disunionists; and, in the second place, it is the only party which seeks the establishment of those national principles of Freedom on which the Union was originally founded, and without which it cannot exist in security or honor.

As it is the only Union party, so the Republican party is the only Constitutional party. It is the only party which takes the Constitution unreservedly as guide, according to the spirit in which it was made, and the light of its Preamble,—rejecting the Proslavery interpretations adopted by the Bell faction, the Breckinridge faction, and the Douglas faction, all of which, in whatever form, are abhorrent to the spirit of the Constitution and the very words of its Preamble. In that Preamble it is declared that the Constitution is made to “establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide for the common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity.” Mark these important words. It is to establish justice: but Slavery is injustice. It is to insure domestic tranquillity: but Slavery insures domestic discord and insurrection. It is to provide for the common defence: but Slavery causes common weakness. It is to promote the general welfare: but Slavery perils the general welfare. Finally, it is to secure the blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity: but Slavery sacrifices these blessings. Such is the Preamble, which is the key to the Constitution. The Republican party alone adopts its principles, as it alone adopts most honestly and sincerely the often declared opinions of its founders. Therefore it is the only Constitutional party.

For the Union and the Constitution, the Republican party is also the only party which maintains the great principles of Human Freedom. Thus in every respect is it commended to your support. The man who asks you here in Massachusetts to vote against it is either very weak, and believes in his own bad reasoning, or very artful, and laughs in his sleeve at your credulity, or very spiteful, and allows all things, even his principles and his country, to be lost in the gratification of a vindictive temper. Look at your opponents here, and you will find that weakness, duplicity, and spite are the three main springs to their conduct. This is a severe analysis, but I think the facts support the assertion.

Frankness is not a virtue of our opponents, else we should have this issue between us more fairly stated. But you will not be deceived. You will see, that, amidst all disguises and subterfuges, the great question perpetually recurs: Are you for Freedom, or are you for Slavery? On this single question you are to vote; and no cry of “Disunion” can change the issue. Are you for Freedom in the Territories? Are you for a National Government administered in the spirit of the Fathers? Are you for the prostration of the Slave Oligarchy which now rules the country? Vain is the attempt to interpose other questions, even that of the Union itself; and vain is the attempt to separate the combatants. The ancient armies of Rome and Carthage fought on, unconscious of an earthquake which upheaved mountains, toppled down cities, and turned the course of rivers. But the animosity between Freedom and Slavery is not less implacable and self-forgetful. It can end only with the triumph of Freedom.

Freedom, which is the breath of God, is a great leveller; but it raises where it levels. Slavery, which is the breath of Satan, is also a great leveller; but it degrades everything, carrying with it master as well as slave. Choose ye between them; and remember that your first duty is to stand up straight, and not bend before absurd threats, whether uttered at the South or repeated here in Massachusetts. Let people cry, “Disunion.” We know what the cry means, and we answer back: The Union shall be preserved, and made more precious by its consecration to Freedom.

Speech in the Mechanics’ Hall, Worcester, November 1, 1860.

Fellow-Citizens of Worcester:—

On my way to this place, my attention was attracted by a banner, flaunting over the highway, with these words: “Trust the People.” Nothing could be fairer or more seductive. In those simple words is embodied a principle, long unknown, and to this day often denied, which may be called the mainspring of Democratic institutions. Here is an implied assertion of the right of the people to govern themselves. And here also is an implied denial of all pretensions of Tyranny and Oligarchy. Such a principle, properly understood in its simplicity and just limitations, must find welcome in every Republican breast. Reading it on the banner, I responded with joy: “‘Trust the People,’ and Might will no longer make Right, Government everywhere will be founded upon the consent of the governed, and Slavery will become impossible!”

Studying the banner further, I found written above this fair device the names, “Douglas and Johnson.” And then I was saddened to see how here in Massachusetts a great principle of human rights is degraded to be a cover for the denial of all rights. Of course the principles of these two candidates are understood. Mr. Douglas, with vulgar insensibility to what is due to all who wear the human form, openly declares that “at the North he is for the white man against the nigger, but that further South he is for the nigger against the alligator,”—and in this spirit says, “Vote Slavery up or vote Slavery down”; and such is the Popular Sovereignty which he proclaims. Mr. Johnson, who is his associate, declares, in well-known words, that “Capital ought to own Labor,”—that is, that mechanics, workmen, and farmers, in fine, all who toil with hands, should be slaves; and this is the Popular Sovereignty which he proclaims. Surely this Douglas and Johnson Popular Sovereignty should rather be called Popular Tyranny. And here at the outset you will observe a wide distinction. Sovereignty is properly limited by right; Tyranny is without any limit except force. But when presented under the captivating device of “Trust the people,” its true character is concealed. It is the Devil radiant with the face of an angel. It is an apple of Sodom, fair to the eye, but dust and ashes to the touch.

There are few among us who avow themselves supporters of Douglas and Johnson; or if they do, they have ceased to look for success in the coming Presidential election, which seems to be practically decided already. I should not be justified, therefore, in occupying your time to-night in considering their cunning artifice, if it were represented only by Douglas and Johnson, against whom you all stand ready to vote. To argue against these candidates here in Massachusetts, and especially in Worcester County, is as superfluous as to argue against King George the Third, whose ideas of sovereignty were of the same tyrannical class, yet who was dead long ago.

But the same popular tyranny, misnamed Popular Sovereignty, upheld by these Presidential candidates, is also upheld by another candidate, now seeking your votes as Representative to Congress. Let me not do injustice to Mr. Thayer. I know well the points of difference between his theory and the theory of Douglas and Johnson; but I know also that in essential character they are identical,—so much so, that Mr. Douglas is reported to have hailed him, at the close of one of his speeches, as an authoritative expounder of the theory. The ancient Athenian, when praised in a certain quarter, exclaimed, “What bad thing have I done?” And Mr. Thayer, in earlier days, when doing so much for Freedom, would have been apt to turn from such praise with a similar exclamation.

It was natural that Mr. Douglas should praise him; for he gave the influence of character and ability to that pretension on which this reckless adventurer had staked his political fortunes. The fundamental principle of each is, that the question of Slavery in a distant Territory shall be taken from Congress and referred to the handful of squatters in the Territory, who, in the exercise of a sovereignty inherent in the people, and therefore called Popular Sovereignty, may “vote Slavery up or vote Slavery down.” Of course Mr. Thayer, thanks to his New England home, has too much good taste to put forth this pretension in the brutal form it often assumes, when advanced by Mr. Douglas. He does not say that he is “for the white man against the nigger and for the nigger against the alligator.” Perhaps the pretension becomes more dangerous because presented in more plausible form, and made part of a more comprehensive system. All that Mr. Douglas claims for the squatters, in the exercise of Popular Sovereignty, is power over Slavery, and other domestic institutions; while Mr. Thayer claims for them, besides this power, the power also to choose their own officers, instead of receiving them from Washington. But the essential distinctive pretension of each is, that the handful of squatters is exclusively entitled, in the exercise of Popular Sovereignty, to pass upon the question of Slavery in the Territories, and to vote it up or vote it down, without any intervention from Congress.

If this principle were asserted only with regard to a single Territory, or even with regard to a single county or a single town, it ought to be opposed as fallacious and unjust; but when asserted as a general principle applicable to all the Territories of the Republic, it must be resisted, not only as fallacious and unjust, but as fraught with consequences difficult to measure. Glance for one moment at the vast spaces which it would open to this mad conflict, and you will be awed by the immensity of the question.

According to official documents, the whole territorial extent of the United States, including States and Territories, embraces about three million square miles. This in itself is no inconsiderable portion of the earth’s surface. It is nearly ten times as large as Great Britain and France combined,—three times as large as the whole of France, Great Britain, Austria, Prussia, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Holland, and Denmark together,—only a little less than the whole sixty Empires, States, and Republics of all Europe,—and of equal extent with the ancient Roman Empire, or the empire of Alexander, neither of which is said to have exceeded three million square miles. Of this vast area, about one half is now organized into States, leaving one million five hundred thousand square miles in the condition of outlying territory, whose future fortunes are involved in the decision of the present question.

If the subject assumes colossal proportions when we regard the extent of territory, it swells to yet grander form when we look at the population involved. The whole white population of the United States at the present moment amounts to 27,000,000. Supposing it to increase at the rate of 34 per cent in ten years, which may be inferred from the rate at which it has already increased, it will number in 1870, 36,000,000; in 1880, 48,000,000; in 1890, 64,000,000; in 1900, 85,000,000; in 1910, 113,000,000; in 1920, 151,000,000; in 1930, 202,000,000; in 1940, 270,000,000; in 1950, 361,000,000; and in 1960, just one hundred years from now, it will reach 483,000,000 of white freemen. Here we may well stop to take breath. Add to this white population 50,000,000 of colored population, whether free or slave, according to the supposed increase, and we shall have a sum-total of 533,000,000; and in two hundred years, with the same continuing rate of increase, our population will be ten times larger than that of the whole globe at the present hour.

This extraordinary multitude will not be confined to the present States. It will diffuse itself in every direction, covering all our territory as the waters cover the sea. Precisely how it will be distributed it is impossible to foreknow. But the tendency of population is Westward. The Eastern States are becoming stationary. Assuming that in 1960 the area now unoccupied will be settled at the rate of Massachusetts in 1850, which was 127 to the square mile, we shall then have on that territory a white population of 190,000,000. And the simple question is, Whether this enormous territory, with this enormous population, shall be exposed to all the accumulating evils of Slavery, with their hateful legacy, at the mere will of the handful of first settlers? According to a French proverb, “It is only the first step which costs,” and there is profound truth in this saying. In similar spirit the ancient Romans said, Obsta principiis, “Oppose beginnings.”

Never were these time-honored maxims more applicable than in the present case, when such prodigious results are involved. All experience shows that it takes very little Slavery to constitute a Slave State, and that Slavery, when once introduced, is most tenacious of existence. Mr. Lincoln, in one of his speeches, has aptly likened it to the Canada thistle, which, when once planted, extends with most injurious pertinacity. Others liken it to a cancer or vicious disease, which, when once in the system, corrupts the blood forever. It may be likened to a superstitious usage, which, when once established in the customs of a people, yields reluctantly to every effort against it. And yet Mr. Thayer wrests from Congress, representing the whole country, all power to prevent the introduction of this transcendent evil, and transfers the whole question to a handful of squatters, who are to act for the weal or woe of half a continent with teeming millions of population; and this is done in the name of Popular Sovereignty, as announced in the Declaration of Independence.

Fellow-citizens, I deny this pretension in every respect and at every point. I assert the power of Congress, founded on reason and precedent; and I assert the overwhelming necessity at this moment of exercising this unquestionable power. Guardians of this mighty territory, the destined home of untold millions, we must see that it is securely consecrated to the uses of Freedom, so that it cannot be pressed by the footsteps of a slave. For the moment we are performing the duty of conditores imperiorum, or founders of States, which Lord Bacon, in sententious wisdom, places foremost in honor, and calls a “primitive and heroical work.”[23] In the discharge of this duty, every power, every effort, every influence for Freedom should be invoked. The angel at the gates of Paradise, with flaming sword turning to every side, might be fitly summoned to guard this grand inheritance.

Not only do I assert this power, but I deny that sovereignty, when justly understood, has among its incidents the right to enslave our fellow-man. Mr. Thayer practically recognizes this incident; for he insists upon leaving the handful of squatters in the Territories to vote Slavery up or vote Slavery down without any intervention from Congress. And here is the vital question: Is there any such power incident to sovereignty?

And since the Declaration of Independence is invoked as authority for this new pretension, I shall bring it precisely to this touchstone. Bear with me, if I am tedious.

On the 4th of July, 1776, was put forth that great state paper, which constitutes an epoch of history. Its primary object was to dissolve the bonds which existed between the Colonies and the mother country. For this purpose a few positive words would have sufficed. But its authors were not content with this enunciation. Ascending far above the simple idea of National Independence, they made their Declaration an example to mankind, in two respects: first, as a Declaration of Human Rights; and, secondly, as an admission that the Sovereignty which they established was limited by Right.

In the first place, they declared “that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”; and “that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.” Note well these words. Here was a Declaration of Natural Rights, the first ever put forth in history, unless we except the declaration only a few months earlier in Virginia. In England there have been Bills of Rights, beginning with Magna Charta, all declaring simply the rights of Englishmen, and all founded on concession and precedent. Now came a Declaration of the Rights of Man, not founded on concession or precedent, but founded on Nature. And this Declaration, though made the basis of the new government, was universal in application, so that people, wherever struggling for rights, have been cheered by its words.

There is another enunciation, by which the Declaration is equally memorable, although this feature has been less noticed. Certainly it has not been noticed by Mr. Thayer, or he would never venture to derive his pretension from a Declaration which positively excludes all such idea. Other governments, even those of the American Colonies, have been founded on force, and the sovereignty which they claimed was unlimited, so as to sanction Slavery. That I may not seem to make this statement hastily, pardon me, if I adduce two illustrative authorities. I refer first to Sir William Blackstone, the commentator on the Laws of England, who says: “There is and must be in all forms of government, however they began, or by what right soever they subsist, a supreme, irresistible, absolute, uncontrolled authority, in which the rights of sovereignty reside;”[24] and this power, which in England is attributed to Parliament, he calls in one place “that absolute despotic power which must in all governments reside somewhere.”[25] I refer also to the famous Dr. Johnson, who, in his tract entitled “Taxation no Tyranny,” openly says that “all government is ultimately and essentially absolute”; that “in sovereignty there are no gradations”; that “there must in every society be some power or other from which there is no appeal,” which “extends or contracts privileges, exempt itself from question or control, and bounded only by physical necessity.”[26]

In the face of these contemporary authorities, one an eminent jurist, and the other an eminent moralist, both well known to our fathers, and in the face of all traditions of government, the Declaration of Independence disclaimed all despotic, absolute, or unlimited power, and voluntarily brought the new sovereignty within the circumscription of Right. Not content with declaring that the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are inalienable, and therefore beyond the control of any sovereignty, the Declaration went further, and, by abnegation worthy of perpetual honor, solemnly restrained the new sovereignty,—simply claiming for it the “power to do all acts and things which independent states may OF RIGHT do.” Even had this express limitation been omitted, no such incident of sovereignty as that asserted by Mr. Thayer could be derived from an instrument containing those words with which the Declaration begins; but with these latter words of special limitation, the pretension becomes absurd.

Such, fellow-citizens, is the Popular Sovereignty of the Declaration of Independence, drawing its life, first, from the inalienable Rights of Man, and then, by positive words, restrained to what is Right. And this is the Popular Sovereignty which, lifting the down-trodden and trampling on tyrants,—now gentle as Charity, and then terrible as an army with banners,—is destined to make the tour of the world, rendering Slavery everywhere impossible.

Of this Popular Sovereignty I have spoken on another occasion,[27] and I refrain with difficulty from repeating now what I said then, partly because I believe so completely in its truth and rejoice in its utterance, but more because I learn that it has been wrested from its place to cover the Popular Tyranny, misnamed Popular Sovereignty, which Mr. Thayer so ardently vindicates.

How strange that words which hail the Angel of Human Liberation, with Liberty and Equality in her glorious train, should be invoked in support of a wicked tyranny, which, in the name of Popular Sovereignty, makes merchandise of our fellow-man! Face to face against this wretched pretension I put the true Popular Sovereignty, with Liberty and Equality for all, guarded and surrounded by the impassable limitation of Right, which is the god Terminus, never to be overthrown. Within these great precincts there can be no Slavery, nor can there be any denial of Equal Rights. How, then, can any man, in the name of Popular Sovereignty, vote another to be a slave? How, then, can any man, in this name, assert property in his fellow-man? By what excuse, with what reason, on what argument can any such thing be done, without first denying all that is true and sacred? Liberty, which is the active principle of Popular Sovereignty,—Equality, which is twin sister of Liberty,—and Justice, which sets bounds to all that men do on earth,—these are the irresistible enemies of Slavery, each and all of which must be trampled out by any rule under which man can be made a slave. But these, each and all, constitute that Popular Sovereignty which is the glory of our institutions. Anything else calling itself by this great name is a mockery and a sham, fit only for hissing and scorn.

The Declaration of Independence gave dignity to our Revolutionary contest, and made it a landmark of human progress. Here, at last, the rights of man were proclaimed, and a government was organized in subjection to the sovereign rule of Right. The people, while lifting themselves to the duties of sovereignty, bowed before that overruling sovereignty whose seat is the bosom of God. Such an example became at once a guide to mankind. It was copied in France, under the lead of Lafayette; and there is no people struggling for Right in either hemisphere who have not felt its inspiration. And yet this Declaration, standing highest among the historic landmarks of our country, is now assailed and dishonored.

It is assailed and dishonored, first, by denial of these natural rights which it so gloriously declares. This is done often with a jeer. Forgetful that these rights were divinely established at the very Creation, when God said, “Let us make man in our image,” and then again in the Gospel, when it was said, “God hath made of one blood all nations of men,”—forgetful that these rights are stamped by Nature on all who wear the human form,—forgetful also that they belong to those self-evident truths, sometimes called axioms, which are universal in their application, as the axiom in arithmetic that two and two make four, and the axiom in geometry that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points,—forgetful of the true glory of our country, these primal truths are sometimes scouted as “absurd,” sometimes as “splendid generalities,” and sometimes as a “self-evident lie.” This assault, though proceeding from various voices, originated with Mr. Calhoun. He is its first author.

And now, secondly, the Declaration is assailed and dishonored by the claim, that men, in the exercise of sovereignty derived from the Declaration, may set up on an auction-block their fellow-men, if to them it seems fit, and that this power is an incident of Popular Sovereignty. This pretension, first put forth by General Cass, in 1847, when a Presidential candidate,[28] and now revived by Mr. Douglas, who peddles it throughout the country, is also practically adopted by Mr. Thayer, as part of his peculiar Territorial policy. Such a pretension is hardly less degrading to the Declaration than the open mockery of its primal truths by Mr. Calhoun. The latter, as is well known, denied the sovereignty of the people in the Territories, but he agreed, heart and soul, in the pretension that the right to enslave a fellow-man is an incident of sovereignty, wherever it exists.

Thus do these two assaults upon the Declaration practically proceed from one source. In their essential ideas they are Calhounism.

On the other side is arrayed a name illustrious for various public service, and for unsurpassed championship of Freedom: I mean John Quincy Adams. Entering the House of Representatives after a long life, at home and abroad, as Senator, as Minister, as Secretary of State, and finally as President, he added to all these titles by the ability and constancy with which he upheld the Rights of Man. Mr. Calhoun was at this time in the Senate; but Mr. Adams incessantly met all his assumptions for Slavery,—exposing its hateful character, insisting upon its prohibition in the Territories, and especially vindicating the Declaration of Independence. Never has the recent pretension, in the name of Popular Sovereignty, been more completely anticipated and exposed. And now, that this argument may not stand entirely upon my words, I quote from him. Says John Quincy Adams, in his oration on the Fourth of July, 1831, at Quincy:—

In another passage of the same oration, the patriot statesman says, in words which answer a portion of Mr. Thayer’s arguments:—

These same views were enforced again by Mr. Adams in his oration at Newburyport, July 4, 1837. There he uses words which reveal the limits of Popular Sovereignty. Thus he speaks:—

Then alluding to the self-imposed restraints upon the sovereignty which was established, our teacher says:—

Such is the irresistible testimony of John Quincy Adams. On the other side are arrayed John C. Calhoun, Stephen A. Douglas, and Eli Thayer. Choose you between these two sides.

Enough, perhaps, has been said. But I shall not leave this question merely on reason and high authority, decisive as they may be. I appeal, further, to the practice of the National Government, which from the beginning has sanctioned the Prohibition of Slavery in the Territories. The pretension of Popular Sovereignty is altogether a modern invention, unknown to our fathers.

The positive Prohibition of Slavery in the Territories was proposed in the Continental Congress by Mr. Jefferson, as early as 1784. Thus did the hand which drew the Declaration of Independence first assert the practical application of its principles within the jurisdiction of Congress; and here the Popular Sovereignty of the Declaration receives most instructive illustration. Although the proposition had in its favor a majority of all the delegates then present, and also a majority of all the States then present, yet, under the rules of the Continental Congress, it failed for the moment. But there is no evidence that anybody questioned the power of Congress, or claimed Sovereignty for any handful of squatters.

The following year, in the absence of Mr. Jefferson, the Prohibition was proposed by Rufus King, a delegate from Massachusetts. It was afterwards embodied by Nathan Dane, another delegate from Massachusetts, in the Ordinance for the Government of the Northwest Territory; and finally, on the 13th of July, 1787, a day ever memorable in the annals of Human Freedom, it was carried with only one vote in the negative, and became the corner-stone of those imperial States destined to exercise such controlling influence in our history. Thus early did our Commonwealth, through its faithful Representatives, insist upon Prohibition by Congress. This was before the National Constitution.

The Ordinance thus adopted by the Continental Congress was affirmed in August, 1789, by the first Congress that sat under the Constitution, in a law which bears the signature of George Washington. In pursuance of its provisions, Ohio was admitted into the Union, 19th February, 1803; Indiana, 11th December, 1816; Illinois, 3d December, 1818; Michigan, 26th January, 1837; and Wisconsin, 29th May, 1848. In the various Acts of Congress preparatory to the admission of these States, the validity of the Ordinance was recognized to the fullest extent. Meanwhile the same principle was applied in the Missouri Compromise, under which Slavery was prohibited by Congress in all the territory west of the Mississippi and north of 36° 30´; also in the organization of Iowa as a Territory, 12th June, 1838, and especially of Oregon as a Territory, 14th August, 1848. Thus from the beginning has this power been affirmed by successive Congresses and by successive Presidents, from George Washington to James K. Polk. It is impossible to present any principle in our history sustained by a line of precedents so imposing.

The necessity of this Prohibition, as a safeguard to the Territories, is apparent from well-attested occurrences. The people of the Territory of Indiana, embracing the larger part of the whole of the Northwestern Territory, in 1802, then again in 1805, then again in 1807, and at other times also, with the pertinacity which marks all struggles for Slavery, petitioned Congress to suspend the Prohibition, so as to allow the introduction of slaves, if the squatters should desire it. To the honor of Congress, their petitions were rejected; but they are memorable from a brief report adverse to their passage by John Randolph, of Virginia. Here it is, bearing date 2d March, 1803.

With these benignant and most suggestive words of an eminent Slave-Master Congress happily concurred, and the Prohibition was confirmed. Had the modern pretension of Popular Sovereignty then prevailed, the States of Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin, instead of becoming the smiling home of Free Labor, would be suffering from the blight of Slavery,—instead of joining in triumphant vote for Lincoln, they would, like their neighbor, Missouri, be linked with the Slave States in support of Breckinridge, or Bell, or Douglas, and would constitute part of that Slave Power under whose tyranny the country has so long suffered.

The advantage of the Prohibition is as clear as its necessity. I do not dwell on the comparison between Free States and Slave States, between free labor and slave labor, between the social system fostered by Freedom and the social system engendered by Slavery, between the civilization of the one and the barbarism of the other; but I call attention simply to two States, covering nearly the same spaces of latitude, resembling each other in soil, climate, and natural productions, lying side by side, and organized at about the same time,—Illinois, thanks to the Prohibition, a Free State, and Missouri cursed with more than one hundred thousand slaves. Look at the statistics of these two States, if you would know the contrast which day by day magnifies the Prohibition.

And yet, in the face of all this experience, showing, first, the necessity of Prohibition as a safeguard to the Territories, and, secondly, its immeasurable advantages, you are now called to abandon the early policy of the Republic, to turn your back upon this policy as irrational and unwise, and to adopt a new pretension, with a plausible name, which, in the only instance where it has been tried, produced discord, strife, and blood. You are called to give up the old Aladdin’s Lamp of magical power, filling the land with infinite treasures and the true nobility of Freedom, and to take in exchange a new patent article now hawked about the streets of Worcester.

If this recent pretension, in the name of Popular Sovereignty, were merely an idea and nothing more, coined in the brain of an ingenious theorist, but not pressed persistently at all times into practical application, it might be left with kindred errors to pass away quietly into the limbo of things lost on earth, as described by Milton:—

But unhappily this is not the case.

Such a pretension, espoused with ardor, as a practical rule, must naturally exercise a disturbing influence. You have not forgotten its influence on General Cass, who, yielding to it, violated the instructions of his State and voted against the Prohibition. You all know its influence on Mr. Douglas. In the name of this pretension he overturned the time-honored Prohibition of Slavery in the Missouri Territory, and delivered over Kansas to a conflict where fraud, rapine, and murder stalked with impunity. Afterward, in the name of this pretension, he sought to arrest all action by Congress for the relief of the settlers there. And ever since he has made this pretension a plain “dodge,” in order to avoid the urgent question: Are you for Freedom, or are you for Slavery? on which every citizen ought to say plainly, “Yea” or “Nay.”

It has not been the lot of your Representative to play a part so conspicuous as that of Mr. Douglas. But this pretension has changed his course hardly less than it has varied the course of the Presidential candidate, driving him into acts which only his large ingenuity in “making the worse appear the better reason” can save from an outburst of universal and indignant condemnation. And now, as I touch briefly on these acts, let me say that I do it most reluctantly, most painfully, and only in obedience to the absolute exigencies of this discussion, that you may truly understand the character of the pretension on which you are to pass judgment at the polls.

Surely its disturbing influence is manifest in his vote on the Bill to annul the Slave Code of New Mexico, under which not only slavery of blacks, but also serfdom of whites is recognized, while laborers of all kinds are subjected to be cuffed, flogged, beaten, or otherwise punished by their employers, without any redress at law. The blood freezes at the idea of such a code extant in a Territory within the jurisdiction of Congress. And yet, on the ayes and noes upon declaring this code null and void, Mr. Thayer’s name is recorded “no,” with the ninety Proslavery Democrats and Americans, against ninety-seven Republicans; and thus you, fellow-citizens of Worcester, whose Representative he then was, have been made parties to an odious crime. I use plain language; for only in this way can that atrocious code be characterized, which in itself is the paragon and ne plus ultra of cold-blooded, scientific, and most cruel tyranny.

Surely its disturbing influence is again manifest in his vote on the Bill to abolish Polygamy in the vast Territory of Utah, where Brigham Young with his forty wives repeats the scandal of a Turkish harem within the jurisdiction of Congress. On the ayes and noes, Mr. Thayer’s name is found in the small minority of sixty noes, composed of ultraists of Proslavery, against one hundred and forty-nine ayes; and you, fellow-citizens of Worcester, whose Representative he then was, have been made parties to the sanction of Polygamy. It is natural that the partisans of Slavery, which nullifies the relation of husband and wife, should be indifferent to this disgusting offence; but nothing short of a most potent disturbing influence could have brought your Representative to a similar indifference.

Surely its disturbing influence is again manifest in his course on the Territorial Bills reported by Mr. Grow from the Committee on Territories, for the organization of the five Territories of Idaho, Nevada, Arizona, Dakota, and Chippewa, all of which were tabled by the vote of Mr. Thayer, and all but one on his motion. Afterward, in debate, he boasted that he “had taken the lead in this business of killing off these Territorial organizations, which go upon the assumption that the people in a Territory are infants,”[34] thus setting up this disturbing pretension as his apology, and claiming for squatters a tyrannical power.

Surely its disturbing influence is again manifest in his perversion of unquestionable facts of history with regard to the operation of the Ordinance for the Government of the Northwestern Territory, saying that Freedom was secured in that Territory through Popular Sovereignty and not through the Ordinance; whereas history shows, by unimpeachable evidence, that this great work was accomplished through the Ordinance. Read the able speech of the Republican candidate, Mr. Bailey, if you would appreciate the extent of this perversion.

Surely its disturbing influence is again manifest in the language by which he allows himself to disparage that great cause, so dear to the people of Worcester, which first brought him into public life: saying that the principle of Prohibition, introduced by Jefferson, approved by the Fathers, and now amply vindicated by its fruits, is a “humbug”; and then again saying, “I think the Slave Question is altogether too small a question to disturb so great a people as inhabit the United States of America”: thus confessing insensibility to the grandeur of that question now overshadowing all other questions, which it is the first duty of a statesman in our country to understand and to appreciate.

Surely its disturbing influence is again manifest in the tone and manner which he has adopted toward the Antislavery cause, and its supporters in Congress, as will be seen by all who read his speeches there. Let the good people of this district know these things, and say if they are ready to join in such contumely.

And, lastly, the disturbing influence is manifest in his setting himself up as an independent candidate for Congress, against the Republican party, whose Presidential candidate he professes to support.

It will be for you to determine, whether a candidate, under this disturbing influence, thus repeatedly manifest in signal acts, can adequately represent the active, conscientious, Freedom-loving citizens of Worcester, who oppose Slavery by something more practical than a theory. I do not doubt his integrity; nor do I utter one word against his personal character. I speak of him only as a public man, open to criticism for public acts; and I speak solemnly and sincerely, for the sake of the cause which I have at heart. Honest men with a false theory are sometimes as dangerous as bad men. I would not liken Mr. Thayer to Benedict Arnold; but there is a letter of the latter, immediately after his defection, addressed to Washington, which your Representative might adopt. Here it is.

The difference between the two cases is obvious. One is flat treason: the other is flat delusion. One is a crime which history can never pardon: the other is a mistake over which history will drop a tear.

Fellow-Republicans, you are about to choose Abraham Lincoln President. Of his election there is no reasonable doubt. Under his auspices the National Government will be brought back to the original policy of the Fathers, which placed Slavery, so far at least as it is outside the States, within the jurisdiction of Congress. It was for his fidelity to this principle, vindicating it against the pretension of Popular Sovereignty, in his long debate with Mr. Douglas, and openly declaring, that, “if he were in Congress, and a vote should come up on a question whether Slavery should be prohibited in a new Territory, he would vote that it should, in spite of the Dred Scott decision,”[36]—on this account it was that Mr. Lincoln was eligible as the Republican candidate. But it is not enough to make him President. You must see that he is sustained in this fundamental principle by your Representative in Congress. And since his election is now beyond question, the vote for a Representative true to this principle becomes more important than a vote for him. Little good will you do in voting for him, if at the same time you vote for a Representative pledged to defeat his declared policy.

Vote, then, so as to vindicate the declared policy of your candidate for the Presidency.

Vote so as to vindicate the Declaration of Independence, which is dishonored by being made the authority for a false pretension in the name of Popular Sovereignty.

Vote so as to vindicate the early policy of the Fathers, who organized the Prohibition of Slavery in the Territories.

Vote so as to vindicate the early policy of Massachusetts, who, in the Continental Congress, immediately after the Revolution, first by the voice of Rufus King, and then by the voice of Nathan Dane, insisted upon the Prohibition of Slavery in the Territories.

Vote so as to vindicate those sentiments and principles of the County of Worcester, “heart of the Commonwealth,” always so constantly and honorably maintained.

Vote so as to vindicate the Antislavery cause in its necessity, practicability, and dignity, and so as to confound its enemies, now banding together against it, under the lead of Mr. Thayer.

Vote so as to vindicate the existence of the Republican party, which, if the theory of Mr. Thayer be true, should at once be disbanded.

Vote, finally, so as to settle peacefully this great question, by taking it away from the chance and peril of conflict, and committing it to the calm judgment of Congress.

It is vain to say that Slavery cannot exist in the Territories under the Constitution, and therefore legislation is superfluous. It is there in fact, and that is enough. It must be struck at once by Congress. St. Patrick banished snakes from Ireland; but that is no reason why the woman should not bruise the head of one found there. It is vain to say, as has been said, that the slaves are few,—amounting to fourteen only in New Mexico; for human rights, whether in a vast multitude or a solitary individual, are entitled to equal and unhesitating support. In this spirit the ancient lawgiver nobly declared that to be the best government “where an injury to a single citizen is resented as an injury to the whole state.” It is vain to say that the prohibition by Congress is superfluous in the present state of opinion; for nothing is clearer than the remark of Lafayette, that principles strong in themselves take new force, when solemnly recognized by all in the form of law. It is vain to say that Freedom is more powerful than Slavery, and therefore may be safely left face to face with its antagonist. In the progress of civilization, law has superseded the ordeal by battle; and law must now supersede this conflict. It is vain to say that the Territories are protected in any form, whether by the Constitution, public opinion, or the inherent strength of Freedom. No possible safeguard should be abandoned. Let there be double locks, double bolts, and double gates. No lock, no bolt, and no gate should be neglected by which Slavery may be fastened out. And, lastly, if Popular Sovereignty is invoked, let it be the Popular Sovereignty of the American people, counted by millions and assembled in Congress, rather than the tyrannical, irresponsible sovereignty of a handful of squatters.

Fellow-citizens, in taking leave of this question, I bear my testimony again to the abilities of Mr. Thayer, and to his active labors in times past. For the good that he has done I honor him; let it all be enrolled for his benefit. But not on this account can I accept him now as a representative of our cause. It is an ancient story, consecrated by the undying verse of Homer, that a ship, with all its canvas spread, was suddenly changed into a rock at the very mouth of a frequented harbor; and thus the instrument of commerce became an impediment to commerce:—

A similar wonder is now repeated before our eyes, making the former instrument of Freedom an impediment to Freedom. Deplore this accident we must; but the remedy is happily within our power.

Speech at Faneuil Hall, Boston, November 5, 1860.

FELLOW-CITIZENS,—Five years have now passed since it was my privilege last to set foot in Faneuil Hall. During this long, unwilling exile, whether at home or abroad, my “heart untravelled” has fondly turned to this historic place, and often have I seemed to hear those utterances for Human Rights which echo along its walls. The distant in place was confounded with the distant in time, and the accents of our own Burlingame seemed to mingle with the words of Adams, Hancock, and Warren, in the past. Let me express my gratitude that I am permitted once more to enjoy these generous utterances, no longer in dream or vision only, but in reality.

Could these venerable arches speak, what stories could they not tell,—sometimes of victory and sometimes of defeat, sometimes of gladness and sometimes of mourning, sometimes of hope and sometimes of fear! The history of American Freedom, with all its anxieties, struggles, and triumphs, commencing before National Independence, and continued down to the very contest now about to close,—all this might be written from the voices of this Hall. But, thank God! the days of defeat, of mourning, of fear, have passed, and these walls will record only those notes of victory already beginning to sound in our ears.

There are anniversaries in our history noticed by young and old with grateful emotion; but to-morrow’s sun will set on a day more glorious for Freedom than any anniversary since the fourth of July, 1776. The forces for a long time mustering are about to meet face to face; but the result is not doubtful. That Power, which, according to the boast of Slave-Masters, has governed the country for more than fifty years,—organizing cabinets and courts, directing the army and navy, controlling legislation, usurping offices, stamping its own pernicious character upon the national policy, and especially claiming all the Territories for Slavery,—that Power which has taught us by example how much of tyranny there may be in the name of Democracy, is doomed. The great clock will soon strike, sounding its knell. Every four years a new President is chosen, but rarely a new government. To-morrow we shall have not only a new President, but a new government. A new order of things will begin, and our history will proceed on a grander scale, in harmony with those sublime principles in which it commenced. Let the knell sound!

The eve of election is not the time for argument. Already this has been amply done in numerous public meetings, where you have been addressed by the orators of Freedom, and also in the press, which has repeated their eloquent words, while a new power, in happy harmony with the new exigencies—the “Wide-Awakes”—has shown how true it is that citizens by the million would spring forth, whenever the North

I need not speak of our candidate for President, whose simple, honest character has grown constantly upon the public interest, while his abilities have everywhere commanded most unhesitating respect. Nor need I speak of our candidate for Governor, whose eminent qualities alike of head and heart give assurance of a man deserving our most devoted support. Of their election there is no doubt. Abraham Lincoln will be President of the United States. John A. Andrew will be Governor of Massachusetts.

But this is not enough. Especially must you see to it, so far as depends on you, that Representatives in Congress are chosen who shall be true to the principles of the Republican party. And since the election of our President is now certain, your vote for Representatives becomes more important than your vote for President. In vain you will vote for Abraham Lincoln, if at the same time you vote for a Representative who will oppose his well-known principles. Such a vote will more than neutralize your vote for President.

Happily there is no occasion to hesitate. Boston is now represented in Congress by two eminent citizens,—differing from each other in many respects, unlike in the talents which each so largely possesses, and dissimilar in character, and yet substantially agreeing in principles, uniting always in their votes, whether to guard Freedom or to promote the important interests of the metropolis, and by their very diversity of character, as the complement of each other, representing completely and harmoniously a large and diversified constituency. Follow the record of Mr. Burlingame and Mr. Rice, whether throughout the long contest for Speaker, or on the proposition to secure Freedom in Kansas, or on the various matters of local concern, and you will find that they always keep together.

Besides the merit of services which no candid person can question, they are also recommended by the practical consideration of their experience. They know their business, and on this account, if no other, it is for your interest that they should be continued. This experience is something which belongs to you, if you are wise enough to use it. On grounds of self-interest the most simple and obvious, you should vote for them.

But, besides experience, they will have another advantage, which you will surely not fling away. Being in harmony with the Administration, they will naturally have the ear of the President and of his Cabinet; and this alone will give them opportunities to promote the interest of Boston such as no Representative of the Opposition could hope to enjoy.

All will see how impossible it will be for Mr. Appleton and Mr. Bigelow to represent adequately this great metropolis during the coming administration. Imagine them at Washington, with the whole delegation from New England, ay, almost of the whole North, against them. Robinson Crusoe and Friday were not more solitary than these Proslavery Representatives would be among their colleagues from the Free States. And when, on the vote for Speaker, involving the organization of the House and the arrangement of the public business, the forces of Slavery are rallied against the Northern candidate, John Sherman or William Pennington, then will the Liberty-loving citizens of Boston be mortified to find their Representatives, under specious plea of danger to the Union, ranging with Disunionists. A simple errand-boy, picked up in the streets, honest and intelligent enough to deposit a vote for a Northern Speaker, would be better than Representatives who would do this thing.

The election of such persons would be a positive encouragement to the disunionists of the South. It would be a signal of sympathy from our citadel. Still further, it would be a premium for indifference to fellow-men struggling for their rights. In vain have we read the story of him who, having fallen among thieves, was succored by the good Samaritan, if we approve by our votes the conduct of those who, when Kansas had fallen among thieves and was lying wounded and bleeding, passed by on the other side without aid or sympathy.

In vain you say that these gentlemen, if elected, may mingle socially with the propagandists of Slavery at Washington, and through this intercourse promote your interests. Do not believe it. No good to you can come from any such artificial fellowship. The enmity of Slavery may be dangerous, but its friendship is fatal. None have ever escaped with honor from that deadly embrace.

In vain you appeal in the name of a party, familiarly called from its candidates Bell-Everett, which, in the recent elections of Vermont, Maine, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana, out of more than 1,300,000 votes, polled less than 20,000,—a party which, from its lofty airs here in Boston, may remind us of Brahmins, who imagine themselves of better clay than others, or of Chinese, who imagine themselves cousins of the Sun and Moon.

Vote, then, for your present Representatives: first, to maintain the policy of the new President; secondly, as proper recognition of their merits; thirdly, that you may have the benefit of their experience; fourthly, that you may have the advantage of their friendly relations with the new Administration; fifthly, that you may help choose a Northern Speaker; sixthly, that you may answer with proper scorn the menaces of disunion, whether uttered at the South or echoed at the North.

Hereafter, fellow-citizens, let it be one of your satisfactions, that in this contest you voted for Freedom. The young man should rejoice in the privilege; the old man must take care not to lose the precious opportunity.

Speech to the Wide-Awakes of Concord, Massachusetts, November 7, 1860.

Captain and Wide-Awakes:—

You take me by surprise, absolutely. I am here to-night in the performance of an agreeable service outside of politics, and have not anticipated any such contingency as this with which you honor me, nor any such welcome.

I thank you, Gentlemen, for the kind and good words which have fallen from your Captain. They are a reward for the little I have been able to do in the past, and will be an encouragement in the future.

I join with you in gladness at the victory we celebrate to-day,—not of the cartridge-box, but of the ballot-box. No victories of the cartridge-box have involved higher principles or more important results than that just won by the ballot-box. A poet, whose home is in Concord, has said that the shot fired here was heard round the world. I doubt not that our victory just achieved will awaken reverberations also to be heard round the world. All men struggling for rights, vindicating liberal ideas, seeking human improvement, maintaining republican government, will be encouraged, when they hear of yesterday. It will be good news to Garibaldi in Italy, good news to the French now subjected to imperial power, good news to English Reformers,—and so also will it be good news to all among us who love Liberty, for it proclaims that at last Liberty has prevailed. Every four years we choose a new President; but it rarely happens that we choose a new government, as was done yesterday. A new order of things is inaugurated, with new auspices, lifting the Republic once more to that platform of principles on which it was originally placed by the Fathers. What victory of the cartridge-box ever did so much?

Looking at the vote in its practical significance, several things may be considered as established and proclaimed by the American people, so that hereafter they shall not be drawn in question.

Of these I place foremost the irrevocable decree, according to the very words of Madison, that it is “wrong to admit in the Constitution the idea that there can be property in men,”[38]—that, therefore, Slavery, if it exists anywhere, is sectional, and must derive such life as it has from local law, and not from the Constitution,—in opposition to the pretension so often put forward in its name, that Slavery is national and Freedom sectional.

Then again the American people have declared, that all outlying Territories, so immense in extent, and destined to the support of unknown millions, shall be consecrated to Freedom, so that the vast outstretched soil shall never know the footprint of a slave: all of which is the natural conclusion and corollary from the first decree.

And yet again it is declared, that in the administration of the National Government the original policy of the Fathers shall be adopted, in opposition to the policy of Slavery, which for the last twelve years has been so tyrannical, and for the last forty years has made its barbaric impress on the country.

And still further, the decree goes forth that the Slave-Trade shall be suppressed in reality as in name, that the statutes against it shall be vigorously enforced, and the power of the Government directed in good faith against it, all efforts to the contrary notwithstanding.

These things were yesterday proclaimed by the American people solemnly, and in a way from which there is no appeal. It was done by a vote destined to be ever memorable and a landmark of history.

Having obtained this great victory, let us study to use it with moderation, with prudence, with wisdom. Through no failure on our part must its proper fruits be lost. Happily, Abraham Lincoln [prolonged cheers] has those elements of character needed to carry us through the crisis. He is calm, prudent, wise, and also brave. And permit me to say, that there are moments in government when bravery is not less important than prudence. He will not see our cause sacrificed through menaces of disunion from the South, even if echoed in Massachusetts; and in this firmness he will be sustained by the American people, insisting upon all that is promised and secured by the Constitution, and to all menaces, from whatever quarter, answering back, that the Union shall be preserved and made more precious by consecration to Human Rights. [Three cheers for the Union.]

I thank you for this welcome, and now bid you good night.

Letter to the Wide-Awakes of Boston, at their Festival, after Election, November 9, 1860.

Speech to the Wide-Awakes, at Providence, Rhode Island, November 16, 1860.

Gentlemen of the Wide-Awakes:—

I had supposed that with our great triumph you would naturally retire to your homes, like soldiers when peace has come. But this goodly show assures me that here in Providence you still exist as a distinct body, ready with sympathy, and I doubt not for duty also.

In the faithful record of recent events, the service performed by the Wide-Awakes cannot be forgotten. I see it in two different aspects. Besides contributing immensely to that victory which now gladdens our hearts, you have shown that here at the North are men ready, if the exigency requires, to leap forward in defence of Northern rights, which are only Constitutional rights. In these two things you have done well, and I am happy in this opportunity of offering you my grateful thanks.

All our hearts, fellow-citizens, are swelling with joy at the Presidential election. It is in congratulation that you appear to-night once more with banners and lights, and I rejoice with you,—as I love Liberty and love my country. It is impossible to exaggerate the result. Had we merely elected new officers, that would have been much; but we have done more. A new policy is declared. Thus far the National Government has been inspired by Slavery. It has seemed to exist for Slavery only. All is now changed. Liberty will be its inspiration. And what a change! Liberty instead of Slavery! But you know well that this change, so beneficent and natural, is in completest harmony with the Constitution and with the declared sentiments of our fathers.

I can never banish from my mind that picture of Washington taking his first oath to support the Constitution of the United States, when nowhere on the land within the national jurisdiction breathed a single slave. At that time Freedom was national. Surely good men will rejoice to see our country regain once more that happy condition, nor can any person regret it who does not deliberately exalt Slavery above Freedom. But this condition is secured by the recent election. Already the country seems fairer, the skies clearer, the air purer, and all good influences more abundant, while Liberty opens the way to prosperity and renown. Not merely will Slavery cease its baleful predominance in the Government, but other things will be accomplished. There will be improvements in rivers and harbors, communications between the Atlantic and Pacific, homesteads for actual settlers on our public lands, peace and dignity in our foreign relations, with sympathy for struggling Liberty everywhere, also economy in administration, and reform generally,—all of which will naturally ensue, when the Republic is once more inspired by those sentiments in which it had its being.

While indulging in proper congratulations on such a victory, we can afford to disregard all menaces, from whatever quarter they come, whether from the distant South or nearer home. Conscious of right, we have only to go forward, mindful always of the Constitution, mindful also of that just moderation which adds to the strength of firmness. An ancient poet teaches, that, “where Prudence is, no Divinity is absent.”[40] I cannot doubt that the Republican party, to which we belong, will be as prudent in government as it has been irresistible at the ballot-box. Such, at least, is my sincere aspiration.

Fellow-citizens and Wide-Awakes, I thank you for this unexpected visit, and now most sincerely and gratefully wish you good night.

Speech to the Wide-Awakes of Lowell, November 21, 1860.

Wide-Awakes and Fellow-Citizens:—

I owe my best thanks for the escort with which you honor me. But I must say frankly that I attribute it less to any merit of my own than to your zeal for the good cause in which I have borne a part.

In our recent triumph the Wide-Awakes have rendered conspicuous service. The light which they have carried, I trust, is symbolical of that which, under the new Administration, will be directed upon the dark places of Government, while their activity and promptitude furnish an example which all may be proud to follow.

The Republican party has prevailed. Its success is the triumph not only of Freedom, but also of the Constitution, long perverted to the purposes of Slavery. Nothing is clearer than this. The Republican party is not aggressive, but conservative. Its object is to carry the Government back to the original policy of the Fathers. Pardon me, but I never tire of reminding my fellow-citizens, that, when Washington took his first oath as President, the Constitution nowhere on the land, within the national jurisdiction, covered a slave; and surely the Republican party cannot err, if it seeks to bring back the condition of things under Washington. Bear this in mind, if you please; and when it is said that you are aggressive, reply fearlessly, “Then is the Constitution aggressive, then was Washington aggressive.” With these two authorities we cannot hesitate. To all enemies we oppose “the Constitution and Washington.”

If attacks upon the Republican party here at home have caused a different impression in any quarter, the responsibility belongs to those who have constantly and systematically maligned and misrepresented us. And our severity of judgment should be reserved less for the Southern States so much excited than for those at the North who feed the flames.

Our duty is plain and bright before us,—plain as day, and bright as the sun. It is simply to proceed as we have begun, and to abide by our declared principles. This is not the moment for any surrender to threats, even if Massachusetts could ever yield to such compulsion.

It was the saying of Samuel Adams, in the early stage of our Revolution, that we should be respected abroad just in proportion to the firmness of our conduct. And this is true now. The victory which we have won can be assured only by such conduct, tempered always by that wise moderation which is needful even in victory. There should be no party act or hasty word to increase present responsibilities. Our safety is in our principles. They are of living rock, and no power can prevail against them.

Again I thank you. Good night.

Letter to Jared Sparks, Historian of Washington, Nov. 22, 1860. From the Boston Daily Advertiser.

Address at the Cooper Institute, New York, November 30, 1860.

MR. PRESIDENT,—I am to speak this evening of one who early consecrated himself to Human Rights, and throughout a long life became their representative, knight-errant, champion, hero, missionary, apostle,—who strove in this cause as no man in history has ever striven,—who suffered for it as few have suffered,—and whose protracted career, beginning at an age when others are yet at school, and continued to the tomb, where he tardily arrived, is conspicuous for the rarest fidelity, the purest principle, and the most chivalrous courage, whether civil or military. There is but one personage to whom this description is justly applicable, and you have anticipated me when I pronounce the name of Lafayette. As in Germany Jean Paul is known as “the Only One,” so would I hail Lafayette as “the Faithful One.” If Liberty be what philosophy, poetry, and the human heart all declare, then must we treasure the example of one who served her always with a lover’s fondness and with a martyr’s constancy, nor demand perfections which do not belong to human nature. It is enough for unstinted gratitude that he stood forth her steadfast friend, like the good angel,—

trampling on all the blandishments of youth, of fortune, and of power, keeping himself sternly aloof whether from King or Emperor, and always insisting upon the same comprehensive cause,—with a soul as fearless and irreproachable as Bayard, from whom generals and kings received knighthood, as unbending as Cato, who singly stood out against Cæsar, and as gentle as that best loved disciple, who leaned on the bosom of the Saviour, and alone of all the Twelve followed him to the Cross.

If anything could add to the interest which this unparalleled career is calculated to awaken, I should find it in special associations which I have enjoyed. Often, when in Paris halting about as an invalid, I turned from its crowded life to visit the simple tomb of Lafayette in the conventual cemetery of Picpus, watched by white-hooded nuns, within the circle of the old walls, where he lies by the side of his heroic wife, pattern of noblest womanhood. Gazing on this horizontal slab of red freestone, in shape like that of Albert Dürer in the republican graveyard of Nuremberg, bearing an inscription without title of any kind, and then casting my eyes upon the neighboring monuments, where every name has the blazon of prince or noble, I seemed to see before me that youthful, lifelong, and incomparable loyalty to a great cause with perfect consistency to the end, marking him a phenomenon of history, which will be my theme to-night. The interest inspired at the republican tomb was strengthened at Lagrange, the country home of Lafayette, a possession derived from the family of his wife, where he passed the last thirty years of life in patriarchal simplicity, surrounded by children and grandchildren, with happy guests, and where everything still bears witness to him.

Nor do I believe that my interest goes far beyond that of the American people, when I think how his name is a household word, dear to all alike, old and young. Even the list of post-offices in the United States shows no less than fifty with his venerated name, and eighteen with the name of Lagrange.

Just before leaving France, now a year ago, on a clear and lovely day of October, in company with a friend, I visited this famous seat, which at once reminded me of the prints of it so common at shop-windows in my childhood. It is a picturesque and venerable castle, with five round towers, a moat, a drawbridge, an arched gateway, ivy-clad walls, and a large court-yard within, embosomed in trees, except on one side, where a beautiful lawn spreads its verdure. Everything speaks to us. The castle itself is of immemorial antiquity,—supposed to have been built in the earliest days of the French monarchy, as far back as Louis le Gros. It had been tenanted by princes of Lorraine, and been battered by the cannon of Turenne, one of whose balls penetrated its thick masonry. The ivy so luxuriantly mantling the gate, with the tower by its side, was planted by the eminent British statesman, Charles Fox, on a visit during the brief peace of Amiens. The park owed much of its beauty to Lafayette himself. The situation harmonized with the retired habits which found shelter there from the storms of fortune. It is in the level district of Brie, famous for its cheese, and forming part of the province of Champagne, famous for its wine,—about forty-five miles to the east of Paris, remote from any high-road, and at some distance from the railway recently opened through the neighborhood, in a country rich with orchards and smiling with fertility of all kinds. The estate immediately about the castle contains six hundred acres, which in the time of Lafayette was enlarged by several outlying farms. The well-filled library occupied an upper room in one of the towers, and near a window overlooking the farm-yard still stood the desk at which Lafayette was in the habit of sitting, with the speaking-trumpet by which he made himself heard in the yard, and with the account-book of the farm lying open as he had left it. All about were souvenirs of our country, showing how it engaged his thoughts. The castle is now occupied by the family of one of his grandchildren, whose hospitable welcome to us as Americans gave token of their illustrious ancestor, hardly less than these precious memorials and the full-length portrait by Ary Scheffer which looked down from the walls.

And now holding up to view a model of surpassing fidelity in support of Human Rights, I am not without hope that others may see the beauty of such a character and try to make it in some measure their own. There is need of it among us. We, too, must be faithful.

Gilbert de Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, only child of an ancient house, was born 6th September, 1757, at the castle of Chavaniac, in the central and mountainous province of Auvergne, in France. He came into the world an orphan,—for his father, a colonel of grenadiers in the French army, had already perished at the Battle of Minden. The verses which once interested Burns and excited the youthful admiration of Scott, though suggested by a humbler lot, depict some of the circumstances which surrounded his:—

The mother died soon after, leaving her child alone in the world, with rank and fortune such as few possess.

In the Memoirs, written by his own hand, Lafayette mentions simply his birth, without allusion to family or ancestry. This was characteristic of one who had so completely renounced all such distinctions. But the temptations he overcame and the prejudices he encountered can be fully appreciated only when we know his origin. His family was not merely ancient and noble, but for generations historic. It had given to French renown a Marshal, who, after honorable service in Italian campaigns, fought by the side of the Maid of Orléans in the expulsion of the English from France; and it had added to the more refined glories of the nation an authoress of that name, the friend of Rochefoucauld and Madame de Sévigné, who shone by literary genius at the court of Louis the Fourteenth, and became an early example of what woman may accomplish: so that the young orphan bore a name which, in a land of hereditary distinctions, seemed to enlist him for their conservation, while it gave him everywhere an all-sufficient passport.

But as some are born poets and others are born mathematicians, the Marquis de Lafayette was born with instinctive fidelity to the great principles of Liberty and Equality, by the side of which all hereditary distinctions disappear. Liberty, he had the habit of saying, was with him a religion, a love, and a geometrical certainty; and this passion, thus sacred, ardent, and confident, was inborn, perpetual, and irresistible. While still a child in the seclusion of Auvergne, he sighed for dangerous adventure, and when at the age of eleven he was transferred to college at Paris, the soul of the young noble responded instinctively to all instances of republican virtue. In the child may be seen the man, and he delighted afterwards to remember that during those early years, when the heart showed itself as it was, in a school exercise describing “the perfect horse,” he lost the prize by picturing the noble animal as throwing his rider at sight of the whip. Nor did his ardent nature express itself in superficial sallies. At every period of life, and particularly in youth, he was grave and silent even to coldness,—thus in external manner differing from the giddy and ostentatious nobles of his day, as he contrasted with them in character.

An early marriage, at the age of sixteen, with the remarkable daughter of the ducal house of Noailles, enlarged his aristocratic connections, and completed all that heart could desire for happiness or worldly advancement. But the life of a courtier, even with the companionship of royal princes, did not satisfy his earnest nature, and he turned away from the grandeurs and follies of Versailles to follow in the steps of his father as captain in the French army. Stationed at Metz, a border fortification on the Rhenish frontier of France, an incident occurred which gave impulse and direction to his life.

The Duke of Gloucester, brother of King George the Third, smarting under slights at court on account of a marriage disagreeable to the King, turned his back upon England, and in his travels stopped at Metz, where he was welcomed at dinner by the commander of the garrison. At that table sat the youthful Lafayette, only nineteen years old, who there for the first time heard the story of the American “insurgents,” as they were called,—of their armed resistance to British troops, and of the Declaration of Independence. His whole nature was thrilled, and the passionate declamation against arbitrary power to which the English Duke gave vent, though stirred only by wounded pride and spite, fell like a spark upon his sincere and sensitive soul, already kindling with generous emotions, so that, before the dinner was ended, his resolution was fixed to cross the ocean and offer his sword to distant, unknown fellow-men struggling for liberty. This was in the autumn of 1776.[54] Hastening back to Paris, he lost no time in engaging with the American Commissioners there, who with grateful astonishment welcomed their romantic ally.

Meanwhile came tidings of melancholy reverses which followed the Declaration of Independence, and of the scanty forces of Washington tracking the snow with bloody feet, as they retreated through New Jersey,—seeming to announce that all was lost. The American Commissioners frankly confessed that they could not encourage Lafayette to proceed with his purpose. But his undaunted temper was quickened anew, and when they told him that with their damaged credit it was impossible to provide a vessel for his conveyance, he exclaimed: “Thus far you have seen my zeal only; now it shall be something more. I will purchase and equip a vessel myself. It is while danger presses that I wish to join your fortunes.” Noble words, worthy of immortality, and never to be heard without a throb by an American heart!

Before embarking, Lafayette, partly to mask his enterprise, and also in the hardihood of courage, visited England, where his wife’s uncle, the French ambassador, presented him to George the Third, who, unconscious of his purpose, said, “I hope you mean to stay some time in Britain”; to which he answered, that it was not in his power. “What obliges you to leave us?” asked the King. “Please your Majesty,” said our new ally, “I have a very particular engagement; and if your Majesty were aware of it, you would not desire me to stay.” During this visit everything was open to the youthful soldier, and he was even invited to attend the review of British troops about to embark for America. From instinctive delicacy he declined, thinking it not right to take advantage of a hospitable invitation to inspect troops against whom he was about to array himself in war. “But,” he added, in relating this incident, “I met them six months after at the Brandywine.”

Quitting England, he traversed France with secrecy and despatch to join his vessel, which was at a Spanish port, beyond French jurisdiction. His departure came like a bolt upon the English Court, which he had just left, also upon the French Court, which was not yet prepared for a break with England, and upon his most affectionate family, who were planning for him a tour in Italy, which in his busy life he never made; but his young wife, who suffered most, loved him too well not to partake his sentiments and to approve his generous resolution, even though it separated him from her. To illustrate the general sensation, I quote the words of the historian Gibbon, in a letter dated April 12, 1777. “We talk chiefly of the Marquis de Lafayette, who was here a few weeks ago. He is about twenty, with an hundred and thirty thousand livres a year, the nephew of Noailles, who is ambassador here. He has bought the Duke of Kingston’s yacht, and is gone to join the Americans.[55] His family interfered by peremptory command, and the French Government interfered by that arbitrary mandate, under seal of the King, known as lettre-de-cachet,—but, disregarding the one and evading the other, in the disguise of a courier, our devoted ally traversed the Pyrenees, and soon found himself with his companions in arms on board his vessel, which, on the 26th of April, 1777, set sail for America.

Undertaking this enterprise at a time when the sea and all beyond were little known, the youthful adventurer showed a heart of “triple oak.” Our admiration is enhanced, when we recall the charms of country, rank, and family left behind,—with perils of capture and war braved even before reaching the land,—and especially when we contemplate the motive in which this enterprise had its origin. Rarely has hero gone forth on so beautiful an errand; for he carried words of cheer to our fathers, then in despairing struggle for the Great Declaration, and opened the way for those fleets and armies of France soon after marshalled on our side; nor is it too much to say, that he was the good angel of Independence. His family correspondence, which has seen the light only since his death, exhibits his beautiful fidelity and the completeness of his dedication to our cause. In a letter to his distinguished father-in-law, announcing his purpose, he says of American interests, that they “will always be more dear to him than his own,” and then declares himself “at the height of joy at having found so fine an occasion to do something and to improve himself.”[56] In a letter to his wife, written on the voyage, under date of June 7, 1777, his sympathy with the great objects of the national contest is tenderly revealed. “I hope, for my sake,” he writes, in words worthy of everlasting memory, “that you will become a good American. This is a sentiment proper for virtuous hearts. Intimately allied to the happiness of the whole Human Family is that of America, destined to become the respectable and sure asylum of virtue, honesty, toleration, equality, and of a tranquil liberty.”[57] Where are nobler words of aspiration for our country than this simple testimony by a youth of nineteen, pouring out his heart to his wife of seventeen? Where in history are grander words from youth or man? For seven weeks laboring through the sea, yet sustained by thoughts like these, he arrived at last on the coast of South Carolina. It was dark, but, pushing ashore in a boat, and following the guidance of a light, he found himself under a friendly roof. His first word, as he touched the land, was a vow to conquer or perish with it.

The Continental Congress was then sitting at Philadelphia, and, without stopping for rest, the sea-worn voyager hastened to report himself there. Most of the way on horseback, for nine hundred miles, he journeyed on, enjoying the country in its native freshness, and the simple, cordial welcome which greeted him everywhere on the road. “The further North I advance,” thus he wrote to his wife, “the more I like this country and its people.”[58] He had already been struck by what to him were “black domestics who came to ask his orders.”[59] Then for the first time he looked upon a slave. His well-known sentiments, so constantly declared, show clearly how his candid nature must have been troubled. He had forsaken France, where, amidst gross inequalities of condition, this grossest was unknown,—where, in the descending ranks of the feudal hierarchy, there was no place for this degradation,—where, amidst unjust taxes and injurious privileges without number, every man had a right at least to his child, to his wife, and to himself,—and where the boast went forth, as in England, and was repeated by judicial tribunals, that the air was too pure for a slave. With heavenly generosity he had turned away from his own country to help the cause of Freedom in another hemisphere, and here he found man despoiled of all personal rights, and even degraded to be property, by those whose own struggles merely for political rights had thrilled the fibres of his being. Youthful, and little schooled as yet in the world, he must have recoiled instinctively, as this most dismal and incomprehensible inconsistency appeared before him. How faithfully he battled with the demon his life will show.

Arrived in Philadelphia, he announced that he had come to serve at his own expense and as volunteer. The Continental Congress, touched by the magnanimous devotion of the youthful stranger, and apprised of his distinguished connections at home, appointed him without delay Major-General in the army of the United States, where he took rank by the side of Gates and Greene, Lincoln and Lee. Born to exalted condition in an ancient monarchy, he found himself welcomed to the highest place in the military councils of a struggling republic, and this while still a youth under twenty,—younger than Fox, younger than Pitt, when they astonished the world by their precocious parliamentary powers,—younger than Condé, in his own beautiful France, on the field of Rocroi. And his modesty was not less eminent than his post. To Washington, who made apologies for exhibiting his troops before a French officer, he replied with interesting simplicity, “I have come to learn, and not to teach.”[60] The Commander-in-Chief, usually so grave, was won at once to that perpetual friendship which endured unbroken as long as life,—showing itself now in tears of joy and then in tears of grief,—watching the youthful stranger with paternal care,—sharing with him table, tent, and on the field of Monmouth the same cloak for a couch,—following his transcendent fortunes, now on giddiest heights and then in gloom, with constant, unabated attachment,—corresponding with him at all times,—addressing him in terms of unwonted endearment as “the man he loved,”[61] and saying again that he “had not words to express his affection, were he to attempt it,”[62]—sending kindly sympathy to that devoted wife in her unparalleled affliction, and pleading across sea and continent with the Austrian despot for his release from the dungeons of Olmütz.

It is much to have inspired the most tender friendship which history records in the life of Washington. There were with us other strangers, scarcely less brilliant than Lafayette. There was Kosciusko, the Pole, who afterwards played so great a part in his own country—Steuben, the German, who did so much for the discipline of our troops,—De Kalb, the gallant soldier, who died for us at Camden,—Rochambeau, the distinguished commander of the French forces, compeer with Washington at Yorktown,—Lauzun, the sparkling courtier, whose fascinations were acknowledged by Marie Antoinette,—Ségur, the high-bred youthful soldier and future diplomatist,—Montesquieu, grandson of the immortal author of the “Spirit of Laws,”—Saint-Simon, whose military and ancestral honors are now lost in his fame as social reformer,—also the unfortunate Count de Loménie, with the Prince de Broglie of the old monarchy, and Berthier, afterwards a prince of the Empire. All these were in our revolutionary contest gathered about Washington; but Lafayette alone obtained place in his heart. Friendship is always a solace and delight; but such a friendship was a testimony. Let it ever be said that Washington chose Lafayette as friend, while Lafayette was to him always pupil, disciple, son.

His intrepidity found early occasion for display at the Battle of the Brandywine, where, attempting to rally our unlucky troops, he was severely wounded in the leg, and thus at once, by suffering for us, increased his titles to regard. As he became known, his simple and bountiful nature awakened the attachment of officers and men, so that in writing to his wife he was able to relieve her anxieties by saying that he had “the friendship of the army in gross and in detail,” and also what he calls “a tender union with the most respectable, the most admirable of men, General Washington.”[63] Nor was this unnatural, when we consider how completely he became American in dress, food, and habits, as he was already American in heart. Avoiding no privation or fatigue, this juvenile patrician, educated to indulgence in all the forms that wealth and privilege could supply, showed himself more frugal and more austere even than his republican associates, living sometimes for months on a single ration. The confidence of Congress soon followed, and by special resolution Washington was requested to place him at the head of an independent command.

Meanwhile France openly enlisted on our side. Turgot, the philosopher, and Necker, the financier, counselled, as far-sighted ministers, against this step, which launched the ancient monarchy in a dangerous career. Jealous of a rival power, smarting under recent reverses, and brooding over the accumulated rancors of long generations, the Court was willing to embarrass England, yet covertly and without the hazard of open war. The King himself never sympathized with the American cause. But public opinion, which in that nation inclines to generous ideas, was moved by the news of a distant people waging a contest for Human Rights, at first doubtful, and then suddenly illumined by the victory of Saratoga,—while Franklin, the philosopher and diplomatist, our unequalled representative at Paris, challenged the admiration alike of grave and gay, and the example of Lafayette touched the heart of France. These wrought so far, that Court and King were obliged to bend before the popular will, and then came the Treaty of Alliance with the Colonies by which their place in the Family of Nations was assured. The Treaty was communicated to the British Court, with a note referring Independence to the Declaration of the 4th of July, on which Lafayette, with constant instinct for popular rights, exclaimed, “Here is a principle of national sovereignty which will some day be recalled at home.”[64] Of course, if Americans could become independent by a Declaration, so could Frenchmen.

The duties of Frenchman were now superadded to the duties Lafayette had assumed toward our cause. “As long,” said he, in a letter to Congress, “as I thought I could dispose of myself, I made it my pride and pleasure to fight under American colors in defence of a cause which I dare more particularly call ours because I had the good luck to bleed for it. Now that France is involved in a war, I am urged by a sense of duty, as well as by patriotic love, to present myself before the King, and know in what manner he judges proper to employ my services. The most agreeable of all will always be such as may enable me to serve the common cause among those whose friendship I have had the happiness to obtain, and whose fortune I have had the honor to follow in less smiling times.” Congress responded by unlimited leave of absence, with permission to return at his own convenient time, and by a vote of grateful thanks and a sword, together with a letter to the French King, where they said, “We recommend this young nobleman to your Majesty’s notice, as one whom we know to be wise in council, gallant in the field, and patient under the hardships of war.”[65] Never before did Frenchman return from service abroad with such a letter to his king.

On his way to embark at Boston, he was attacked by a fever, which in its violence seemed about to prevail, so that Washington dwelt on the daily tidings of the physician “with tears in his eyes,” and it was reported at one time that “the soldier’s friend,” as he was called, had died.[66] Happily he was spared to his two countries, and to the affection of his commander. Always true to Liberty, he would not let the crew of the frigate waiting for him at Boston be recruited by impressment,—thus in all things guarding the rights of the people.[67]

If the sensation in Europe caused by his departure had been great, that caused by his return, after two years of brilliant service, with eminent military rank, with the thanks of Congress and the friendship of Washington, was greater far. He could not appear anywhere without greetings of admiration which knew no bounds, while, to borrow his own account, he was “consulted by all the ministers, and, what is much better, kissed by all the women.”[68] In a journey to his estate, the towns through which he passed honored him with processions and civic pomp. But his distant friends, struggling for the Great Declaration, were never out of mind. Accustomed to large interests sustained by small means, he regretted each fête even in his own honor as a diversion of supplies, while his zeal went so far as to make the Prime-Minister, M. de Maurepas, declare that for this cause Lafayette would strip Versailles of its furniture. Such an influence, so sincere and so constant, from one who spoke not only as a French noble, but as a Major-General of the American army, was not without result. The papers of Lafayette attest the ability with which he pressed upon the French Government an active participation in the contest, and especially prompted the decisive expedition of Rochambeau.

But he did not loiter at home. Soon he turned from country and family. Again he crossed the sea, and this time landed at Boston, for which, at a later day, he recorded a “predilection,”[69] chiefly, it appears, because there were no slaves there, and all were equal. The hearts of the people everywhere throbbed with welcome; the army partook of this delight, and Washington now “shed tears of joy.”[70] The republican sentiments which animated him appear in the present of a flag to one of our battalions, with a simple wreath of laurel blending with a civic crown, and the words beneath, “No other.”[71] Farewell to crowns and coronets, to kings and nobles! Such was the great lesson of the flag. Then commenced the second part of his American career,—his active military service,—his command in Virginia,—his campaign against Cornwallis, when the latter said triumphantly, “The boy shall not escape me,”—and his coöperation in the final assault at Yorktown, ending in the capitulation of the British commander to the combined forces of America and France,—all of which belongs to the history of both countries.

The campaign in Virginia redounded to the praise of Lafayette in no common measure. After announcing his designation for this service, and saying that “the command of the troops in that State cannot be in better hands,” Washington proceeds:—

Madison wrote at the time that “his having baffled and finally reduced to the defensive so powerful an army as we now know he had to contend with, and with so disproportionate a force, would have done honor to the most veteran officer.”[73] The General Assembly of Virginia, by solemn resolution, conceived in the warmest terms of affection and applause, acknowledged “his many great and important services to this Commonwealth in particular, and through it to the United States in general,” and tendered to him therefor “the grateful thanks of the free representatives of a free people.” They also directed a marble bust of him, “as a lasting monument of his merit and of their gratitude.” This judgment was sanctioned by the highest authorities, including Washington.[74] A recent author adds to this testimony by speaking of the campaign as “masterly,” and then characterizes it as “the most brilliant, as well as the most successful, part of his whole public career.”[75] But this judgment strangely forgets that lifelong loyalty to Human Rights which in itself is a campaign beyond any in war.

Grim-visaged war now smoothed its wrinkled front, and, in the lull which ensued after the surrender of Cornwallis, Lafayette returned again to France, with the renewed thanks of Congress, and with added trusts. Our ministers abroad were instructed to consult him. The youthful soldier was changed into the more youthful diplomatist; nor was he less efficient in the new field. His presence alone was for our country an Embassy. Through him the haughty Spanish Court was approached, and gigantic forces were gathered at Cadiz for an expedition in the common cause. At the same time his republican character was so far recognized, that the Spanish monarch, anticipating the capture of Jamaica, exclaimed, “Lafayette must not be its governor, as he would make it a republic.”[76] Great Britain bowed before the storm and signed the Treaty of Peace, by which American Independence was recognized. It was fit that this great news should reach Congress through our greatest benefactor. It was first known by a letter from Lafayette, dated at Cadiz, February 5, 1783; so that he who had espoused our cause in its gloom became the herald of its final triumph.

But another letter, bearing date the same day and forwarded by the same vessel with that announcing the glad tidings, opens another duty which already occupied his inmost soul. Thus he writes to Washington, under date of Cadiz, February 5, 1783,[77] and the remarkable coincidence of dates shows how closely he associated the rights of the African slave with our National Independence.

As if this great proposition were not enough, Lafayette, in the same letter, calls upon Washington to employ himself “in inducing the people of America to strengthen their Federal Union,” saying, “It is a work in which it behooves you to be concerned; I look upon it as a necessary measure.” Thus were Emancipation and Union conjoint in his regard.

At the date of this letter Lafayette was not yet twenty-six years of age, and now, one struggle ended, he begins another greater still, or rather he gives to the first its natural development, and shows how truly he accepts the truths declared by our fathers. Others might hesitate; he does not. In these few words addressed to Washington will be seen the same spirit which inspired him originally to enlist for us, the same instinctive love of Liberty, the same self-sacrifice, the same generosity, the same nobleness, expressed with affecting simplicity and frankness. Valuable as is this testimony for the African race, it is also precious in illustration of that remarkable character, which, from the beginning, was guided by no transient spirit of adventure, but by a sentiment almost divine for Human Rights. In this light his original consecration to our cause assumes new dignity, while American Independence becomes but a stage in the triumphs of that Liberty which is the common birthright of all mankind. If Fox was a boy-debater, as he has been called, then was Lafayette a boy-hero,—and hero of Humanity he continued to the end.

During the next year, at the pressing invitation of Washington, he again crossed the ocean, to witness the peaceful prosperity of the country whose government he had helped to found by twofold service in war and in diplomacy. Adopted child of the Republic, he surrendered himself for six months to the sympathies of the people, the delights of friendship, and the companionship of Washington, whom he visited at Mount Vernon, and with whom he journeyed. Nor did his partiality for Boston fail at this time, as a contemporary record shows. “The reception I met with in Boston,” he wrote, “no words can describe; at least it is impossible to express what I have felt.”[79] But, far more than all, the Slavery of the African race interested his heart, and would not allow him to be silent. In official answers to addresses of welcome from Legislatures of Southern States, he declared his desire to see these Legislatures commence the work of Abolition.[80] This was in 1784, before Clarkson, then a youth at the University, was inspired to write his Essay against Slavery, which was the glorious beginning of his lifelong career, and before Wilberforce brought forward his memorable motion in the British Parliament for the abolition of the slave-trade. If these words were of little effect at that early day, they bear witness none the less to the exalted spirit of their author. In taking leave of Congress, as he was about to embark, he let drop other words, exhibiting the same spirit, wherein may be seen the mighty shadow of the Future. “May this immense temple of Freedom,” he said, “ever stand a lesson to oppressors, an example to the oppressed, a sanctuary for the rights of mankind! and may these happy United States attain that complete splendor and prosperity which will illustrate the blessings of their government, and for ages to come rejoice the departed souls of its founders!”[81] Such utterance by a French noble tells that the Revolution was approaching.

The friendship of Washington and Lafayette deserves more than passing mention. It constitutes a memorable part in the life of each. Already we have witnessed its beginning. They saw each other for the last time at Annapolis, where Washington had taken his welcome guest in his carriage from Mount Vernon. There they parted, Washington returning to his peaceful home, Lafayette hastening across the ocean to the great destinies and the great misfortunes which awaited him. But before leaving our shores he wrote a letter from his ship, where he pours out his devotion to his great chief, calling him “the most beloved of all friends he ever had or ever shall have anywhere,” declaring his regret that he cannot have “the inexpressible pleasure of embracing him in his own house, of welcoming him in a family where his name is adored,” and to this adding: “Everything that admiration, respect, gratitude, friendship, and filial love can inspire is combined in my affectionate heart to devote me most tenderly to you. In your friendship I find a delight which words cannot express.”[82] Though never meeting again, their intimacy was prolonged by an interchange of letters, the most remarkable of any in the life of either, by which their friendship is made one, and each lives doubly in the affection of the other.

Returned to Europe, Lafayette sought constant opportunities to promote our interests,—writing especially of Jefferson, our Minister at Paris, that he was “happy to be his aide-de-camp.”[83] Nor did he confine his exertions to France. Traversing Germany, from Brunswick to Vienna, he was everywhere a welcome guest, first with the Emperor, and then with the King of Prussia, who was the famous Frederick, sometimes called the Great,—described by Lafayette, in a picture worthy of a Dutch artist, as “an old, decrepit, and dirty corporal, all covered with Spanish snuff, the head almost resting on one shoulder, and fingers almost dislocated by the gout.”[84] Cornwallis of Yorktown, who was there as a visitor also, confessed that at the camp in Silesia “there was a most marked preference for Lafayette.”[85] But wherever the hero appeared, our concerns, whether political or commercial, were still present to his thoughts. At the table of Frederick he vindicated American institutions, and especially answered doubts with regard to “the strength of the Union,” which he upheld always as a fundamental condition of national prosperity. He confidently looked to our Independence as the fruitful parent of a new order of ages, being that rightful self-government, above all hereditary power, whether of kings or nobles, which he proudly called the “American Era.”

His heart was ever intent on projects of Human Improvement. Aroused by the disabilities of Protestants in France, amounting to absolute outlawry, sad heritage of that fatal measure, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, Lafayette, though himself a Catholic, entered into earnest efforts for their liberation, and thus enrolled himself among champions of Religious Freedom. At the same time his opposition to African slavery assumed a practical form. Washington acknowledged his appeal from Cadiz, of 5th February, 1783, but unhappily deferred action.[86] Lafayette went forward alone. At an expense of 125,000 francs, this foremost of Abolitionists purchased a plantation of slaves in the French colony of Cayenne, that by emancipation he might try the great experiment of Free Labor, and set an example to mankind.[87] The spirit of this enterprise was seen on the arrival of the agent from Paris, who began by collecting all the slave-whips and other instruments of punishment on the plantation, and burning them in presence of the slaves. This was in 1785, two years after the original proposition to Washington, who, on learning its execution, thus complimented his more than disciple:—

Alas! had Washington at that time united with Lafayette, there would have been a living example of untold value to our country, instead of that dead despair which was like a stone wall in the path of Progress. Who can imagine the good from such an instance, teaching the priceless benefits of Freedom? Who can estimate its happy influence in extinguishing that great controversy which is not yet ended? It is sad to think that such an opportunity was lost.

While organizing Emancipation in the distant colony of Cayenne, Lafayette gave other evidence to his American friends. In a letter to John Adams, our Minister in London, dated February 22, 1786, he expresses himself with a vigor never surpassed during the long warfare with Slavery. “In the cause of my black brethren,” he writes, “I feel myself warmly interested, and most decidedly side, so far as respects them, against the white part of mankind. Whatever be the complexion of the enslaved, it does not, in my opinion, alter the complexion of the crime which the enslaver commits, a crime much blacker than any African face.”[89]

The following brief note to Alexander Hamilton is another gem of character.

How much in little! The testimony is plain. The witness is a volunteer. In simple words he records himself once more “against the slavery of negroes,” and then declares that he has ever been “partial to his brethren of that color.” For him the degraded slave is brother, although of a color not his own.

That great event was now at hand, which, beginning in a claim of rights denied, and inspired by generous ideas, was destined, amidst falling privileges and toppling thrones, to let loose the most direful furies of Discord and War,—to feed the scaffold with blood of King and Queen, and of good men in all the ranks of life,—to lift the nation to unknown heights of audacity and power,—to dash back the hosts of foreign invasion, as the angry surge from the rock,—to achieve victory on a scale of grandeur never witnessed since the eagles of Cæsar passed from Britain to Egypt,—and, finally, to mark a new epoch in the history of the Human Family. The French Revolution had come. It was foreshadowed in the writings of philosophers, in the gradual march of Human Progress, in the wide-spread influence of the American Revolution, in the growing instincts of the people, and the obvious injustice of existing things,—and it was begun in the example of Lafayette. Of all men, he was its natural leader, just so long as it continued moderate and humane. Alas, that such a cause, so beautiful in itself and so grand in promise, was wrested from its original character by the passions of men!

The initial step was the Assembly of the Notables, February 22d, 1787, brought together for the first time since its convocation to serve the arbitrary rule of Cardinal Richelieu. There sat the two brothers of the King, all the princes of the blood, archbishops, bishops, dukes, peers, the chancellor, high officials of the magistracy, and distinguished nobles, convoked by the King in the interest of his crown. But the people had no representative there. Lafayette became their representative. As he had formerly drawn his sword, so now he raised his voice for popular rights; nor was he deterred by the courtly presence. Startled by his boldness, the Count d’Artois, afterwards Charles the Tenth, attempted to call him to order, as acting on subjects not before the Assembly. “We are summoned,” said Lafayette, “to make the truth known to his Majesty. I must discharge my duty.” He proceeded, and here you see how the great tragedy opened.

By formal propositions, sustained by well-considered reasons, he called for: 1. Removal of Protestant disabilities, and complete establishment of religious toleration; 2. Equality of imposts, and suppression of certain unjust taxes; 3. Abolition of all arbitrary imprisonment, and especially the odious lettre-de-cachet; 4. Revision of the criminal laws; 5. Economy in the royal household, pensions, and all the departments of government.

Following these moderate demands, he made a “motion,”—the first time, it is said, this parliamentary word, so suggestive of liberal discussion, was ever used in France,—and this motion was for nothing less than the convocation of a “National Assembly,”—uttering here two other momentous words, which were then and there for the first time pronounced. “What!” exclaimed the Count d’Artois, “do you demand the States General?” “Yes, and even more,” was the reply of Lafayette.[91]

The States General were convened in May, 1789, at Versailles, in the very shadow of that palace where in latter years the kings and courtiers of the French monarchy had lived like the gods of Olympus, and at once this ancient body took the name of “National Assembly.” Here appeared the imposing figure of Mirabeau, demanding, in the name of the people, that the troops should be removed. By his side was the yet youthful Lafayette, seconding the demand, which he followed by proposing a Declaration of the Rights of Man, embodying not merely specific rights secured by precedent and practice, as in the English Bill of Rights, but the Rights of Man founded on Nature, and above all precedent or practice. Such a statement was known in our country. It constitutes part of the Declaration of Independence, and also of the Constitution of Massachusetts, giving character to each; but it was now for the first time put forth in Europe, illustrating that “American Era” which Lafayette constantly proclaimed. Its importance was immense. It supplied a touchstone for all wrongs, and elevated the hearts of the people. It began as follows.

In launching this Declaration, Lafayette vindicated it as “recalling sentiments which Nature has engraved on the heart of every one, but which take new force when recognized by all; and this development,” he said, “becomes the more interesting, since for a nation to love Liberty it is sufficient that she knows it, and to be free it is sufficient that she wills it.” He stated its further value as “an expression of those truths from which all institutions should spring, and by which the representatives of the nation should be guided.”[93]

The Declaration of the Rights of Man, presented 11th July, 1789, was a victory whose influence can never die. It redounded immediately to the glory of Lafayette. Lally-Tollendal, after declaring the ideas “grand and majestic,” said that their author “speaks of Liberty as he has already defended it.” These were words of sympathy. Already the Archbishop of Sens had remarked in the councils of the King, “Lafayette is the most dangerous of antagonists, as his politics are all in action.”

A few days later, the Bastile, at once fortress and prison, where for four hundred years the lawless will of arbitrary power had buried its victims in a living tomb, was levelled to the ground by the people of Paris, and with it fell the ancient monarchy. Elated by success, the people looked for a leader, and found him in the author of the Declaration of the Rights of Man. Amidst heartfelt applause Lafayette was placed at the head of the embodied militia of the metropolis, which, under his auspices, was organized as the National Guard. Thus in a brief time two achievements were his,—first, the introduction of a Declaration of the Rights of Man, which he was foremost to present, and, secondly, the organization of the National Guard, which was the beginning of a citizen soldiery. Each was an event; the two together make an epoch.

Thus far champion of Liberty, it was now his part to maintain order; and never was this work more conscientiously pursued. The colors of Paris were blue and red, but his spirit of conciliation was shown by adding to them white, which was the ancient color of France, out of these three forming that famous tricolor, which he then proudly proclaimed was destined “to make the tour of the world.” Strong in the popularity he had won, he shrank from none of the responsibilities of his perilous post, braving alike the multitude and the assassin,—unharmed himself, treading calmly the burning ploughshares of civil strife,—throwing over all the shield of his protection, and by chivalrous intervention at Versailles saving King and Queen from an infuriated mob,—but always telling the King, that, if his Majesty separated the royal cause from that of the people, he should remain with the people: of all which there are details written in blood.

Though engrossed by his post as Commander of the National Guard, Lafayette did not neglect those other duties as representative of the people. In the Assembly he boldly proclaimed the right of resistance to tyranny, saying, with sententious point, “Where Slavery prevails, the most sacred of duties is insurrection.”[94] He called for trial by jury,—liberty of worship,—the rights of colored people in the colonies,—the suppression of all privileges,—the abolition of the nobility itself. To one who asked, how, after the abolition of titles, they would replace the words “ennobled for having saved the State on a particular day,” he answered, “Simply by declaring that on the day named the person in question saved the State.” The proposition prevailed, and from that time this sincere and upright citizen laid down his own time-honored title, borne by his family for successive generations, and was known only as Lafayette. And otherwise he gave testimony by example,—accepting the honorary command of the National Guard formed by colored citizens of San Domingo, although he refused this distinction from other guards out of Paris, and entertaining colored men in the uniform of the National Guard at his dinner-table, where Clarkson, the English Abolitionist, met them in 1789.[95]

Beyond question, he was now the most exalted citizen of France,—centre of all eyes, all hopes, and all fears,—holding in his hand the destinies of King and people. Rarely has such elevation been achieved; never was such elevation so honestly won, and never was it surrounded by responsibilities so appalling. Nothing of office, honor, or power was beyond his reach, while peril of all kinds lay in wait for him or sat openly in his path. But he was indifferent alike to temptation and to danger. Emoluments in whatsoever form he rejected, saying that he attached no more importance to the rejection than to the acceptance. Field-Marshal, Grand-Constable, Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom, Dictator even,—such were titles which he put aside. Had his been a vulgar ambition, he might have clutched at supreme power, and played the part of Cromwell or Napoleon. But, true to the example of Washington, and, above all, true to himself and those just sentiments which belonged to his nature, he thought only of the good of all. Calmly looking down upon the formless chaos, where ancient landmarks were heaving in confused mass, he sought to assuage the wide-spread tumult, and to establish that divine tranquillity, which, like the repose of Nature, is found only in harmony with law, to the end that Human Rights, always sacred, should have new force from the prevailing order. And this done, it was his precious desire to withdraw into the retirement of his home.

The Constitution, with its Declaration of the Rights of Man, was at length proclaimed. Amidst unprecedented pomp, in a vast field, the Campus Martius of France, surrounded by delegates from all parts of the country, and under the gaze of the anxious people gathered in uncounted multitudes, the King, sitting upon his throne, took the oath to support it. Lafayette, as Major-General of the Federation, did the same,—while National Guard and people, by voice and outstretched hand, united in the oath. How faithfully he kept this oath, true to the Constitution in all respects, upholding each department in its powers, subduing violence, watching the public peace, and for the sake of these hazarding his good name with the people whose idol he was,—all this belongs to the history of France. Assured that the Revolution had accomplished its work, he caused an amnesty to be proclaimed, and then deliberately laid down his vast military power. Amidst the gratulations of his countrymen and votes of honor, he withdrew to the bosom of his family at the home of his childhood. Unhappily, this was for a period very brief.

The emigrant nobles, with two brothers of the King, were gathering forces on the Rhenish frontier of France. Austria and Prussia had joined in coalition for the same hostile purpose. France was menaced; but its new government hurled three armies to meet the invaders. The army of the centre was placed under the command of Lafayette. At the mention of his name in the Assembly there was an outburst of applause, and when he appeared at its bar, the President, addressing him, said, “France will oppose to her enemies the Constitution and Lafayette.” Little was then foreseen how soon thereafter both were to fall.

A new influence was showing itself. Danton and Robespierre were active. Clubs were organized, whose daily meetings lashed the people to lawless frenzy. Extreme counsels prevailed. Violence and outrage ensued. The Jacobins, whose very name has become a synonym for counsellors of sedition, were beginning to be dominant. The Revolution was losing its original character. The generous Lafayette, who had been its representative and its glory, in whom its true grandeur and humanity were all personified, revolted at its excesses. From camp he addressed the National Assembly, denouncing the Jacobins as substituting license for liberty,—and then, supporting his letter, gallantly appeared at the bar of the Assembly and repeated his denunciation. But the Reign of Terror was lowering, destined to fill France with darkness, and to send a shudder through the world. After bloody conflict at the gates of the palace, the King and his family were driven to seek protection in the bosom of the Assembly. The scaffold was not yet entirely ready. But the Constitution was overturned, and with it Lafayette. Doubly faithful, first to the oath he had taken, and then to his own supreme integrity, he denounced the audacious crime. He was then at the head of his army; but Jacobin hate had marked him as victim. Shrinking from the horrors of civil contest, where success is purchased only by the blood of fellow-citizens, he resolved—sad alternative!—to withdraw from his post, and, passing into neutral territory, seek the United States, there from a distance to watch the storm which was desolating his own unhappy country.

As his eminence was without precedent, so also was his fall. Power, fortune, family, country, all were suddenly changed for a dungeon, where, amidst cruel privations, for more than five years, he wore away life. But not in vain; for who can listen to the story of his captivity without confessing new admiration for that sublime fidelity to principle which illumined his dungeon?

With heart rent by anguish and darkened by the gathering clouds, Lafayette, accompanied by a few friends, left his army at Sedan. Traversing the frontier, in the hope of reaching Holland, he fell into the hands of the Royal Coalition; and then commenced the catalogue of indignities and hardships under which his soul seemed rather to rise than to bend. His application for a passport was answered by the jeer that his passport would be for the scaffold, while a mob of furious royalists sought to anticipate the executioner. The King of Prussia, hoping to profit from his increasing debility, suggested that his situation would be improved in return for information against France. The patriot was aroused at this attempt on his character. “The King of Prussia is very impertinent,” he replied, while composing himself to the continued rigors which beset him. First immured at Wesel on the Rhine, he was next transported in a cart, by a long journey, to the far-famed Magdeburg, whose secrets have been disclosed by Baron Trenck, where for a year he was plunged in a damp subterranean dungeon, closed by four successive doors, all fastened by iron bolts, padlocks, and chains, when, on the separate peace between Prussia and the French Republic, he was handed over to Austrian jailers, by whom he was transferred to Olmütz, an outlying fortress, then little known, but now memorable in history, on the eastern border of Austria, further east than the old castle which witnessed the imprisonment of Richard Cœur-de-Lion and the generous devotion of Blondel. Here his captivity was complete. Alone in his cell, with no object in sight except the four walls,—shut out from all communication with the world,—shut out even from all knowledge of his family, who on their part could know nothing of him,—never addressed by name,—mentioned in the bulletins of the prison only by his number,—and, to cut off all possible escape by self-destruction, deprived of knife and fork: such was now his lot. If not a slave compelled to work without wages, he was even a more wretched captive.

But never for one moment was his soul shaken in its majestic fidelity; never was his example more lofty. At the beginning, he was careful, by official declaration, to make known his principles, so that he might not be confounded with fugitive royalists. But his prison cell was a constant testimony. Letters now exist, written at peril of life, with toothpick dipped in soot moistened with vinegar, where his wonderful nature is laid bare.[96] Confessing his joy that he suffers from that despotism which he combated, rather than from the people he loved so well, he announces his equal hostility to the committees of Jacobinism and the cabinet of the Coalition,—declares his firm conviction, that, amidst all the shocks of anarchy, Liberty will not perish,—remembers with a thrill the anniversary of American Independence, as that day comes round,—says of his own Declaration of the Rights of Man, that, if he were alone in the universe, he would not hesitate to maintain it,[97] and repels with scorn every effort to vindicate him at the expense of his well-known sentiments, declaring that he would give his blood, drop by drop, to the people’s cause, and that on the scaffold his first and last words should be “Liberty and Equality,” while he charges all the wrongs, all the crimes, all the perils, all the sufferings of the Revolution upon the wretched departure from these sacred principles.[98] His political faith was grandly declared, when, addressing the Minister of the United States at London, he calls down a blessing upon our Republic, saying, “May Liberty and Equality, with all the virtues truly republican, honest industry, moderation, purity of manners, frankness and liberality of spirit, obedience to the laws, firmness against all usurpation, continue to prove that American Freedom has its roots deep, not only in the head, but at the bottom of the heart of its citizens! May public prosperity, happiness of individuals, and federal concord be a perpetual recompense to the United States, and an example for other people!”[99] These words of benediction, original as great, aptly define that “American Era” which our hero had already hailed, while they invoke upon our country all that virtuous heart could desire. But never did soul rise to purer heights than when, at the beginning of his captivity, he bequeathed this consoling truth as his legacy to mankind, that the satisfaction from a single service rendered to Humanity outweighs any suffering inflicted by enemies, or even by the ingratitude of the people,[100]—and then, as the dungeon closed upon him, forgetting all that he was called to undergo, his own personal afflictions and prolonged captivity, he sends his thoughts to the poor slaves on his distant plantation in Cayenne, whose emancipation he had sought to accomplish. In the universal wreck of his fortunes he knew not what had become of this plantation, but he trusts that his wife “will take care that the blacks who cultivate it shall preserve their liberty.”[101] Search history, whether ancient or modern pages, let Greece and Rome testify, but you can find nothing more sublimely touching than this voice from that heavy-bolted dungeon, serenely pleading for the liberty of others far away. That noblest woman, mated with him in soul as in marriage vow, had already exerted herself to accomplish this purpose,—but, alas! without effect. Cruelly was their liberty confiscated with his estates.[102]

This confiscation, where Liberty itself disappeared, was the terrible climax of that proscription which now enveloped his friends and his family. In the prevailing masquerade of blood the charge of Fayettism was equivalent to a decree of death. Nor was tender woman spared. The grandmother, the mother, and the sister of his wife, all of the same ducal house, perished on the scaffold. His wife was thrown into prison, and escaped the same fate only by the timely overthrow of Robespierre. Regaining liberty after a cruel imprisonment of sixteen months, her maternal care was for her son, George Washington Lafayette, still a boy, whom she sent to his great namesake at Mount Vernon with a letter from herself, and then, accompanied by her two youthful daughters, with the protection of an American passport, she makes her way across Germany to Vienna, where she throws herself before the Imperial despot. To her prayer for the release of her husband, he answers that “his hands are tied”; but, moved by her devotion, so womanly, so wifely, so heroic, he yields so far as to consent that she, with her daughters, may share his wretched captivity. Penetrating his dungeon, she learned that the first change of raiment allowed him was on her arrival, when the tattered rags which scarcely covered his emaciated form were exchanged for a garb of coarsest material,—an indulgence not accorded without the insult of informing him that this had been purposely sought, as with such alone was he worthy to be clothed.[103] Three silver forks in her little inventory were seized by the jailer, and this refined family during a lingering imprisonment were driven to eat with their fingers. These things are not to be forgotten, because, while exhibiting the cruelty of despotic power, against which the world now rises in judgment, they show how his fidelity was tried, as also that of his family. The wife, becoming ill, was refused permission to leave the dungeon for medical advice at Vienna, except on condition of not returning, when she beautifully declared, for herself and her daughters, that they had agreed to participate the rigors of his captivity, and now repeated, with all their hearts, that they were happier with him in the dungeon than they could be anywhere else without him. Lafayette himself, when tempted by offer of release on certain conditions or promises, was stern as his jailer, and refused inexorably,—choosing to suffer, sooner than compromise in any respect his rights and duties as Frenchman or as American citizen, which latter title he always claimed.

Vain, during this long period, was every effort for his liberation. Not Fox, thundering in the British Parliament,—not the gentler voice of Wilberforce, uniting with Fox,—not Cornwallis, his old enemy at Yorktown, personally pleading with the Emperor himself,[104]—not Washington, prompting our Ministers abroad and writing directly to the Emperor, could open these prison doors.[105] Lafayette was declared to be a representative not only of the French Revolution, but of Universal Enfranchisement, whose liberty was incompatible with the safety of European governments: therefore must he be immured in a dungeon. But private enterprise, inspired by those generous promptings which are the glory of the human heart, for a moment seemed about to prevail. This was before the arrival of his wife and daughters. The health of the imprisoned champion had suffered to such degree, that, under medical direction, the rigors of confinement were relaxed so far as to allow occasional exercise in the open air. Here was an opportunity for which two friends, Bollmann, a German, and Huger, an American, of South Carolina, had watched for months, and they were able secretly to apprise the captive of their plans. With their assistance, after desperate conflict, in which his hand was torn to the bone, he succeeded in disarming the guards, and then enjoyed a gleam of liberty. It was a gleam only. Helped on a horse by one of his devoted friends, he started; but, ignorant of the way, and oppressed with fatigue, wounded, bleeding, after a flight of twenty-four hours, he was recaptured, brought back, and plunged again into the worst torments of his dungeon. This endeavor, though unsuccessful, is never read without a gush of gratitude towards the courageous men, who, taking life in hand, braved Austrian tyranny. Human nature seems more beautiful from their example.[106]

All had now failed, and the dungeon seemed to have closed upon Lafayette forever. The hearts of his friends were wrung with anguish, and especially here in America. Washington, at the fireside of Mount Vernon, shed tears for his friend,—while to that noble wife, who in all things was not less faithful than her heroic husband, he addressed an earnest letter, regretting that he had not words to convey his feelings, and placing a considerable sum of money to her credit, which he mentioned as the least he was indebted for services, of which he had never yet received an account.[107] But an intervention was at hand which would not be denied. It was the early sword of Napoleon Bonaparte, which, flashing across the Alps from his Italian victories, broke open the dungeon of Olmütz. Lafayette had been a captive five years,—his wife and daughters shut up with him twenty-two months. In the negotiations ending in the Treaty of Campo Formio, it was required, under special instructions from the French Directory, that he should be released; and the conqueror was heard to say afterwards, that, among all the sacrifices exacted of tottering Austria, not one was so difficult to obtain. The captive of many years, at last in the enjoyment of liberty, hastened to Hamburg, where he found welcome with the American consul.

This was in the autumn of 1797, and he was forty years of age. But life with him, though brief in years, had been extended by events full of lessons never to be forgotten; above all was that great lesson of perpetual fealty to Human Rights. And now this same lesson was illustrated again. As in dungeon, so in exile, Lafayette could not forget the cause to which his life was devoted, especially the liberty of the African. From the obscure retreat in Holstein, where he lingered, he addresses Clarkson, the English Abolitionist, in eloquent words, against the Slave-Trade, which was still the scandal of nations, and announces that the mission of France, while healing the wounds of the past, should be to assure Liberty for all, whether white or black, under the equal protection of Law.[108] Better far such mission than battle and conquest, which this ambitious nation craved. In a letter to Washington at the same time he gives utterance to his aspiration, that, for the good of the world, the North and the South should gradually adopt the principles on which the Independence and the Liberty of the United States have been happily founded.[109] How in thinking of himself Lafayette thought instinctively of the slave appears in an incident of exile at this time. In the straitened circumstances to which he was reduced, stripped of the wealth to which he was born, poor and homeless, his thoughts turned to the broad continent across the Atlantic, and he conceived the plan of buying a farm,—although without what he denominates “the first dollar” necessary,—either in Virginia, not far from what he calls the “Federal City,” or in New England, not far from Boston,—and thus, in one of those tender letters to his wife, he balances between these two places. “I am aware, dear Adrienne,” he writes, under date of 5th August, 1799, “that I, who complain of the serfs of Holstein, as something very melancholy to a friend of Liberty, should find in the valley of the Shenandoah negro slaves; for Equality, which in the Northern States is for everybody, exists in the Southern States for the whites only. Therefore, while I perceive all the reasons which should draw us to the neighborhood of Mount Vernon and the seat of the Federal Union, yet I should prefer New England.”[110] Never more simply or conclusively was the special difference between North and South presented for judgment.

Regaining his country at last, while the outlawry, though a dead letter, was not formally annulled, he withdrew to the retirement of Lagrange, where, surrounded by his family, he maintained unsullied the integrity of his great character,—turning aside from all temptation, and never for a moment swerving from completest devotion to that cause for which he had done and suffered so much. Others accepted office and honor; he would not. Bonaparte wished to make him Senator; Lafayette declined, as he afterwards declined the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor from the same hand. Always himself, he touched the key-note of his life, when, in a brief address to his fellow-citizens, on refusing a post of dignity in 1802, he announced his hope that the miracles of battle then surprising them might be followed not only by peace abroad, but by domestic tranquillity founded on the immutable principles of Justice. At no moment is he more exemplary in firmness than when on the proposition that Bonaparte should be Consul for life he openly voted “No,” and added, “I cannot vote for such a magistracy, until Liberty has been sufficiently guarantied.”[111] In a noble letter[112] he pleads with the successful warrior for the re-establishment of Liberty, saying that all things combine to fit him for this great work, which shall subdue danger and calm distrust. Bonaparte did not hearken to these words of patriot wisdom, but drove still further in mad career. Lafayette, withdrawing yet more into the repose of private life, avoided a contest, which he foresaw must be futile, with a ruler having claims upon his gratitude which he never ceased to acknowledge.

But it was not in his nature to despair. President Jefferson urged him in 1804, after the acquisition of Louisiana, to quit France, where the ground trembled beneath his feet, and come to a land where he could do so much good,—holding before him the governorship of the new Territory, and declaring that his presence alone would be better for its tranquillity than an army of ten thousand men. But Lafayette avowed his unwillingness to take a step that should seem to abandon the destinies of his own country, duty to which forbade him to despair of seeing established on the foundation of a just and generous Liberty,—in one word, American Liberty.[113]

While in retirement, he was visited by temptation in yet another form, and again his fidelity shines forth. By Act of Congress, repaying in part the accumulated debt of the nation, he had become proprietor of a large territory in Louisiana, to which in his reduced condition he naturally looked for means. Persons familiar with the country advised him to set up a manufacture of tiles, promising from it, what he so much desired, “a fixed revenue”; but he dismissed the proposition, as “founded upon a purchased employment of thirty slaves,”—“a thing,” said he, “I detest, and shall never do”; and then, after expressing his wish that in letting the land there should be “a first condition to employ none but free hands, or, if negroes of New Orleans be admitted, to stipulate their liberty in a short time,” he proceeds to say, in memorable words: “I would not be concerned in transactions in a negro country, unless not only my personal doings were unsullied with Slavery, but I had provided with others to render the very spot productive of Freedom.”[114] This was in 1805, before the Slave-Trade was yet abolished, and when Slavery was just beginning its fatal empire over our Republic. But it was only part of that faithful testimony which he bore so constantly.

Such a character was a perpetual protest, and Napoleon in the pride of colossal power confessed it. Son and son-in-law, though distinguished, could not obtain promotion,—the Emperor himself on one occasion erasing their names, with the tyrannical ejaculation, “These Lafayettes cross my path everywhere.” The true reason was disclosed, when, at another time, he said: “Lafayette alone in France holds fast to his original ideas of Liberty. Though tranquil now, he will reappear, if occasion offers.” Stronger homage to absolute fidelity could not be. He was tranquil, through all the splendid agony of the Empire, its marvellous conquests and its tremendous disasters,—tranquil at the victories of Austerlitz, Jena, Friedland, and Wagram, at the retreat from Moscow, at the stunning news from Leipsic, at the capitulation of Paris. As little could he participate in the restoration of Louis as in the usurpation of Napoleon. At last he reappeared. It was on the return from Elba, hazarding that peace purchased at such sacrifice, when, by characteristic action in harmony with his whole career, his present was linked with his past, and the chief of the Great Revolution, declining again the honors of the Senate and the title of Count, declaring, that, if ever again he entered public life, it must be as representative of the people, came forward as simple deputy, and then at an early day, with happy phrase, rallied the Chamber to an attitude of independence which should decide “whether it would be called a national representation or a Napoleon club.” The disaster of Waterloo hastened the impending crisis. The Emperor menaced a dissolution of the Chamber and a dictatorship. The time had come for the hero of Liberty. He spoke, and with a voice that had been silent for a generation bravely recalled the sacred cause of which he was the veteran, and that tri-color flag which was the symbol of Liberty, Equality, and Public Order. On his motion the Chamber declared itself permanent, and any attempt to dissolve it treason; and then, while vindicating France against the imputation of fickleness towards Napoleon, whom it had followed over uncounted fields, from the sands of Egypt to the snows of Russia, the Defender of Liberty insisted upon his abdication. Yet, true always to every just sentiment of gratitude and humanity, he scorned the idea of surrendering the fallen man to the Allies, saying he was “astonished that such a proposition should be addressed to a prisoner of Olmütz,”[115] and he sought to provide means for escape to America, showing him every consideration consistent with duty to the country.

The fall of Napoleon was followed by the restoration of the Bourbons to the throne of France, lasting from 1815 to 1830, and during much of this period Lafayette, released from all constraint, was member of the Chamber of Deputies. The King, who in early life had known him personally, trembled at his election. As he entered the Chamber for the first time, every eye turned to him, and every tongue pronounced his name with admiration, hope, or fear; nor was any member observed afterwards with equal interest. He took his seat on the extreme left, and always kept it. His attendance was marked by that fidelity which belonged to his nature; nor did advancing years or any disgust interfere with the constant and unwearied discharge of his parliamentary duties. Here, as everywhere, he was open, sincere, and brave. Overtopping others in character, he was conspicuous also in debate. Though not a rhetorician, he spoke with ease and effect, while every word had the inspiration of noble ideas, often expressed with sententious force. Especially was he moved whenever Liberty came in question; nor did the disasters falling upon him and his house, or any other consideration, make him hesitate to vindicate the Revolution, alike in substantial results and in principles. “Notwithstanding,” he said, “all that was afterwards lost through anarchy, terrorism, bankruptcy, and civil war, in spite of a terrible struggle against all Europe, there remains the incontestable truth, that agriculture, industry, public instruction, the comfort and independence of three quarters of the population, and the public morals, have been improved to a degree of which there is no example in any equal period of history, or in any other part of the Old World.”[116] With brilliant effect he portrayed the wrongs and abuses which disappeared before what he liked to call “the flag of Liberty, Equality, and Public Order.”[117] And he attributed the evils of France less to the madness of violence than to compromise of conscience by timid men. In the same lofty spirit he denounced the Holy Alliance as “a vast and powerful league whose object was to enslave and brutify mankind.”[118] By such utterances were the people schooled and elevated. The inspiration which was his own inner light he imparted to others.

His parliamentary career was interrupted by an episode which belongs to the poetry of history. On the unanimous invitation of the Congress of the United States, he again visited the land whose Independence he helped to secure. This was in 1824. Forty years had passed since he was last here. But throughout this long period of a life transcendent in activity and privations, as well as in fame, he had ever turned with fondness to the scene of his early consecration, and proudly avowed himself American in heart and American in principle. His early compeers were all numbered with the dead, and he remained sole survivor among the generals of Washington. But the people had multiplied, and the country had grown in wealth and power. All rose to meet his coming, and he was welcomed everywhere as the Nation’s guest. To the inquiry, on his landing at New York, how he would be addressed, he replied, “As an American General,”—thus discarding again the title of his birth. From beginning to end, men and women, young and old, official bodies, towns, cities, States, Congress, all vied in testimonies of devotion and gratitude, while the children of the schools, boys and maidens, swelled the incomparable holiday, which, stretching from North to South, and covering the whole country, absorbed for the time every difference, and made all feel as children of one household. The strong and universal sentiment found expression in familiar words, repeated everywhere:—

It belongs to the glory of Lafayette that he inspired this sentiment, and it belongs to the glory of our country to have felt it. As there was never such a guest, so was there never such a host. They were alike without parallel. But amidst this grandest hospitality, binding him by new ties, he kept the loyalty of his heart: he did not forget the African slave.[119]

The visit was full of memorable incidents, sometimes most touching, among which I select a scene little known. At one of those receptions occurring wherever the national guest appeared, a veteran of the Revolution, in his original Continental uniform, with the addition of a small blanket, or rather piece of blanket, upon the shoulders, and with his ancient musket, that had seen service on many fields, came forward. Drawing himself up in the stiff manner of the old-fashioned drill, he made a military salute, which Lafayette returned with affection, tears starting to his eyes,—for he remembered well that uniform, and saw that an old soldier, more venerable than himself in years, stood before him. “Do you know me?” said the soldier,—for the manner of the General persuaded him that he was personally remembered, although nearly fifty years had passed since their service together. “Indeed, I cannot remember you,” the General replied frankly. “Do you remember the frosts and snows of Valley Forge?” “I can never forget them,” said Lafayette. The veteran then related, that, one freezing night, as the General went his rounds, he came upon a sentry thinly clad, with shoes of raw cowhide and without stockings, about to perish with cold; that he took the musket of the sentry, saying to him, “Go to my hut; you will find stockings there, and a blanket, which, after warming yourself, you will bring here; meanwhile give me your musket, and I will keep guard.” “I obeyed,” the veteran continued, “and returning to my post refreshed, you cut the blanket in two, retaining one half and giving me the other. Here, General, is that half, and I am the sentry whose life you saved.” Saint Martin dividing his cloak is a kindred story of the Church, portrayed by the genius of Vandyck.[120] Lafayette, at the date of his charity, was younger even than the Saint, and the act was not less saintly. But this is only an instance of the gratitude he met. By such tribute, in accord with the universal popular heart, was the triumph of our benefactor carried beyond that of any Roman ascending the Capitol with the spoils of war.

And this might have been the crown even of his exalted life. But at home in France there was yet further need of him. In the madness of tyranny, Charles the Tenth undertook by arbitrary ordinance to trample on popular rights, and to subvert the Charter under which he held his throne. The people were aroused. The streets of Paris were filled with barricades. France was heaving as in other days. Then turned all eyes to the patriarch of Lagrange, who, already hero of two revolutions, commanded confidence alike by his principles and his bravery. Summoned from his country home, he repaired to Paris, imparting instant character to the movement. With a few devoted friends about him,—one of whom is a dear and honored friend of my own, Dr. Howe, of Boston,—this venerable citizen, seventy-three years of age, exposed to all the perils of the conflict hotly raging in the streets between the people and the troops, was conducted on foot across barricades to the Hôtel de Ville, and once more placed at the head of the National Guard. “Liberty shall triumph,” said the veteran, “or we will all perish together.”[121] Charles the Tenth ceased to reign, and the Revolution of 1830 was accomplished. The fortunes of France were now in the hands of Lafayette. He was again what Madame de Staël had called him at an earlier day, master of events. It rested with him to choose. He might have made a Republic, of which he would have been acknowledged head. But, cautious of Public Order, which with him was next to Liberty, mindful of that moderation which he had always cultivated, and unwilling, if Liberty were safe, to provoke a civil contest, drenching France again in fraternal blood, he proposed “a popular throne surrounded by republican institutions,” and the Duke of Orléans, under the name of Louis Philippe, became king. Clearly his own preference was for a Republic on the American model, but he yielded this cherished idea, satisfied that at last Liberty had prevailed, while peace was assured to his blood-stained country. If the republican throne fell short of his just expectations, it was because, against high injunction, he had put trust in princes.

The loftiness of his character was revealed, when, at a menace of violence by the excited populace, he issued a general order, as commander of the National Guard, announcing himself as “the man of Liberty and Public Order, loving popularity far more than life, but determined to sacrifice both rather than fail in any duty and tolerate a crime,—persuaded that no end justifies means which public or private morals disown.”[122]

Soon again he laid down his great command, contenting himself with his farm and his duties as deputy. But his heart went wherever Liberty was struggling,—now with the Pole, and then with the African slave. To the rights of the latter he had borne true and unfaltering loyalty at all times and in all places, beginning with that memorable appeal to Washington on the consummation of Independence, and repeated in two triumphal visits to our country,—also in public debate, in conversation, in correspondence,—in the interesting experiment at Cayenne, and, more affecting still, in the dungeon of arbitrary power. Every slave, according to him, has a natural right to immediate emancipation, whether by concession or force; and this principle he declared above all question.[123] He knew no distinction of color, as he continually showed. His first letter to President John Quincy Adams, after return from his American triumph, mentions that he had dined in the company of two commissioners from Hayti, one a mulatto and the other entirely black, and he was “well pleased with their good sense and good manners.”[124] Tenderly he touched this great question in our own country; but his constancy in this respect shows how it haunted and perplexed him, like a Sphinx with a perpetual riddle. He could not understand how men who had fought for their own liberty could deny liberty to others. But he did not despair, although, on one occasion, when this inconsistency glared upon him, his impatient philanthropy exclaimed, that he would never have drawn his sword for America, had he known that it was to found a government sanctioning Slavery.

The time had come for this great life to close. A sudden illness, contracted in following on foot the funeral of a colleague, confined him to his bed. As his case became critical, the Chamber of Deputies, by solemn vote,—perhaps without example in parliamentary history,—directed their President to inquire of George Washington Lafayette after the health of his illustrious parent. On the following day, May 20, 1834, he died, aged seventy-seven.

The ruling passion of his life was strong to the close. As at the beginning, so at the end, he was all for Human Rights. This ruled his mind and filled his heart. His last public speech was in behalf of political refugees seeking shelter in France from the proscription of arbitrary power.[125] The last lines traced by his hand, even after the beginning of his fatal illness, attest his joy at that great act of Emancipation by which England had just given freedom to her slaves. “Nobly,” he wrote, “has the public treasure been employed!”[126] And these last words still resound in our ears, speaking from his tomb.

Such was Lafayette. At the tidings of his death, there was mourning in two hemispheres, and the saying of Pericles seemed to be accomplished, that “To the illustrious the whole earth is a sepulchre.”[127] It was felt that one had gone whose place was among the great names of history, combining the double fame of hero and martyr, heightened by the tenderness of personal attachment and gratitude. Nor could such example belong to France or America only. Living for all, his renown became the common property of the whole Human Family. The words of the poet were revived:—

Judge him by the simple record of his life, and you will confess his greatness. Judge him by the motives of his conduct, and you will bend with reverence before him. More than any other man in history he is the impersonation of Liberty. His face is radiant with its glory, as his heart was filled with its sweetness. His was that new order of greatness destined soon to displace the old. Peculiar and original, he was without predecessors. Many will come after him, but there were none before him. He was founder, inventor, poet, as much as if he had built a city, discovered ether, or composed an epic. On his foundation all mankind will build; through his discovery all will be aided; by his epic all will be uplifted. Early and intuitively he saw man as brother, and recognized the equal rights of all. Especially was he precocious in asserting the equal rights of the African slave. His supreme devotion to Humanity against all obstacles was ennobled by that divine constancy and uprightness which from youth’s spring to the winter of venerable years made him always the same,—in youth showing the firmness of age, and in age showing the ardor of youth,—ever steady when others were fickle, ever faithful when others were false,—holding cheap all that birth, wealth, or power could bestow,—renouncing even the favor of fellow-citizens, which he loved so well,—content with virtue as his only nobility,—and whether placed on the dazzling heights of worldly ambition or plunged in the depths of a dungeon, always true to the same great principles, and making even the dungeon witness of his unequalled fidelity.

By the side of such sublime virtue what were his eminent French contemporaries? What was Mirabeau, with life sullied by impurity and dishonored by a bribe? What was Talleyrand, with heartless talent devoted to his personal success? What was Robespierre, with impracticable endeavors baptized in blood? What was Napoleon himself, whose surpassing powers to fix fortune by profound combinations, or to seize it with irresistible arm, were debased by the brutality of selfishness? These are the four chief characters of the Revolution, already dropping from the firmament as men learn to appreciate those principles by which Humanity is advanced. Lafayette ascends as they disappear, while the world hails that Universal Enfranchisement which he served so well. As the mighty triumph is achieved, which he clearly foresaw, immense will be his reward among men.

Great he was, indeed,—not as author, although he has written what we are glad to read,—not as orator, although he has spoken much and well,—not as soldier, although he displayed both bravery and military genius,—not even as statesman, versed in the science of government, although he saw instinctively the relations of men to government. Nor did his sympathetic nature possess the power always to curb the passions of men, or to hurl the bolts by which wickedness is driven back. Not on these accounts is he great. Call him less a force than an influence, less “king of men” than servant of Humanity,—his name is destined to be a spell beyond that of any king, while it shines aloft like a star. Great he is as one of earth’s benefactors, possessing in largest measure that best gift from God to man, the genius of beneficence sustained to the last by perfect honesty; great, too, he is as an early, constant Republican, who saw the beauty and practicability of Republican Institutions as the expression of a true civilization, and upheld them always; and great he is as example, which, so long as history endures, must inspire author, orator, soldier, and statesman all alike to labor, and, if need be, to suffer for Human Rights. The fame of such a character, brightening with the Progress of Humanity, can be measured only by the limits of a world’s gratitude and the bounds of time.

Remarks in the Senate, December 10, 1860.

MR. PRESIDENT,—I have no desire to make a speech at this time, nor to take any part in the discussion that has commenced. I can bear yet a little longer the misrepresentations in the President’s Message, and I believe the North can bear them yet a little longer. The time will come, perhaps, when I shall deem it my duty to set forth those things in the light of reason and of history; meanwhile I content myself with simply offering to the Senate testimony of direct and most authoritative bearing upon the present state of the Union. If I may adopt the language of the Senator from Mississippi [Mr. Jefferson Davis], it will help us to make the diagnosis of the present disease in the body politic.

I hold in my hand an unpublished autograph letter, written by General Jackson while President of the United States, and addressed to a clergyman in a slaveholding State. Omitting certain sentences which are of a purely private nature, the letter is as follows.

and he underscores, or italicizes, the word “now”—

Here is the original autograph letter, in the well-known, unmistakable, bold, broad handwriting. [Here Mr. Sumner held the letter up.] These are the words of a patriot slaveholder of Tennessee, addressed to a patriot clergyman of a slaveholding State, and they are directly applicable to the present hour. Of practical sense, of inflexible purpose, and of various experience, Andrew Jackson saw intuitively the springs and motives of human conduct, while he loved his country with a firm and all-embracing attachment. Thus inspired, he was able to judge the present and to discern the future. The Tariff, in his opinion, was a pretext only,—Disunion and a Southern Confederacy the real object. “The next pretext,” says he,—and you, Sir, cannot fail to mark the words,—“will be the Negro or Slavery Question.” These, Sir, are his words, not mine. Such is his emphatic judgment. Words and judgment now belong to history; nor can they be assailed without assailing one of the greatest examples that a slaveholding community has given to our common country.

Incidents and Notes, December 18, 1860, to March 4, 1861.

Letters to John A. Andrew, Governor of Massachusetts, January 17 to February 20, 1861.

Speech in the Senate, on a Massachusetts Petition in Favor of the Crittenden Propositions, February 12, 1861.

MR. PRESIDENT,—As I desire to say a few words on the petition, I move that it be printed.

These petitioners, I perceive, ask you to adopt what are familiarly known as the Crittenden Propositions. Their best apology, Sir, for such a petition is their ignorance of the character of those propositions. Had they known what they are, I feel sure they could not have put their names to any such paper.

Those propositions go beyond the Breckinridge platform, already solemnly condemned by the American people in the election of Abraham Lincoln. If adopted, they set aside the Republican platform, while they foist into the National Constitution guaranties of Slavery which the framers of that instrument never sanctioned,—which Washington, Jefferson, Franklin, Patrick Henry, and John Jay, according to the testimony of their lives and declared opinions, would have scorned to sanction; nor can there be any doubt, that, had such propositions been made the condition of Union, this Union could not have been formed.

Mr. Madison, in the Convention which framed the National Constitution, taught his fellow-countrymen that it is “wrong to admit in the Constitution the idea that there can be property in men.”[135] What manly vigor and loftiness inspired that warning! Now these propositions not only interpolate the forbidden idea, but, proceeding to its practical application, they run a visible black line at latitude 36° 30´, extending the protection of the Constitution itself over Slavery south of that line, and then, making the case yet more offensive and more impossible at the North, they carry it to all territory hereafter acquired, so that the flag of the Republic, as it moves southward, must always be the flag of Slavery, while every future acquisition in that direction must submit to the terrible doom,—and all this under irrepealable text of Constitution, which, by supplementary provision, is expressly placed beyond amendment. In an age of civilization this is bad, very bad; but they go further. There are to be new guaranties of Slavery in the National capital, and in other places within the National jurisdiction,—also in transporting slaves to States and Territories,—also a reinforcement of the Fugitive Slave Bill; and all these are so placed under Constitutional safeguard as to exceed the permanence of other provisions. Nor is even this all. As if to do something inconceivably repugnant to just principles, and especially obnoxious to the people of Massachusetts, it is proposed to despoil our colored fellow-citizens there of political franchises long time assured by the institutions of that Liberty-loving Commonwealth. Before the adoption of the National Constitution it was declared in Massachusetts that there could be no distinction of color at the ballot-box; and this rule of equality is to be sacrificed, while fellow-citizens are thrust out of rights which they have enjoyed for generations.

Sir, for these things, and others kindred, do these petitioners now pray, insisting that they shall all be interpolated into the National Constitution,—while, in entire harmony with this unparalleled betrayal, those laws which have been established for the protection of Personal Liberty are to be set aside, that the Slave-Hunter may have free course. Such are things which in the judgment of these petitioners “the North and the South may honorably accede to,” while, in consideration of these impossible sacrifices, the fee of the Fugitive Slave Commissioners is modified, and it is declared that the Slave-Trade shall not be revived. And this is the compromise for which Massachusetts people in such large numbers from cities and towns now pray!

I have infinite respect for the right of petition, and I hope always to promote the interests and to represent the just and proper wishes of my fellow-citizens; but I cannot hesitate to declare my unfeigned regret that these petitioners, uniting in such numbers, have missed the opportunity of demanding plainly and unequivocally, as lovers of the Union, two things, all-sufficient for the present crisis, with regard to which I might expect the sympathies of the Senator from Kentucky: first, that the Constitution of the United States, as administered by George Washington, shall be preserved intact and blameless in its text, with no tinkering for the sake of Slavery; and, secondly, that the verdict of the people last November, by which Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the United States, shall be enforced without price or condition. Here is a platform on which every patriot citizen can take his stand, having over him the stars of the Union. How much better than any proposition, scheme, or vain delusion of Compromise! On such ground, all who really love the Union of their fathers, without an if or a but, can plant themselves.

I remember, Sir, that in the debate on the night of the passage of the Nebraska Bill,—it was at midnight,—I made the declaration that all future compromise was impossible.[136] Events now taking place verify this truth. It is obvious that existing difficulties can be arranged only on permanent principles of justice, freedom, and humanity. Any seeming settlement founded in abandonment of principles will be but a miserable patchwork, which cannot succeed. Only a short time ago the whole country was filled with shame and dismay, as the reports came to us of the surrender of the Southern forts; and when it was known that Fort Sumter, too, was about to be given up, a cry went forth from the popular heart, by which that fortress was saved, at least for the present. And now for the parallel. Propositions are brought forward by the Senator from Kentucky, and enforced by petition from my own State, calling upon the North to surrender its principles,—to surrender those impregnable principles of Human Rights which constitute our Northern forts. It is even proposed to surrender the principle of Freedom in the Territories,—the Fort Sumter of the North. I trust, Sir, that all these principles will yet be saved; but plainly their safety depends upon the people, and not upon a President; therefore must the people be heard, as in that cry from the heart which only a few days ago saved the other Fort Sumter, menaced by the representatives of Slavery. For myself, if I stand with many, with few, or alone, I have but one thing to say: “No surrender of the Fort Sumter of the North! No surrender of any of our Northern forts,—no, Sir, not one of them!”

Bankers and merchants of New York and Boston tell us that the Government shall not have money, if we do not surrender. Then again, Sir, do I appeal to the people. Surely the American people are not less patriotic than the French. They only want the opportunity to come forward and supply the necessities of the Government, as the latter, at the hint of their Emperor, came forward with money, all in small sums, for the support of that war which ended in the liberation of Italy. Our Government stands on the aggregate virtue and intelligence of the people. Not only the rich and fortunate, but the farmer, the mechanic, the laborer, every citizen truly loving his country, will contribute out of his daily life to uphold the Constitution and the flag. From these small sums, inspired by a generous patriotism, I am glad to believe we shall have a full treasury, even if bankers and merchants stand aloof.

There is but one thing now for the North to do: it is to stand firm. The testimony of a great national benefactor, who helped our country to Independence, should be heard,—I mean Lafayette,—who, in his old age, with experience ripened by time, contemplating the terrible Revolution which had convulsed France, as a surviving actor and a surviving sufferer, did not hesitate to announce from his seat in the Chamber of Deputies, after recognizing the unutterable calamities of that Revolution, that, according to his solemn judgment, they must be referred not so much to the bad passions of men as to those timid counsels which sought to substitute Compromise for Principle.[137] The venerable patriot may well speak to his American fellow-citizens now, and inspire them to stand firm against those timid counsels which would make any such fatal substitution.

Mr. President,—I have no desire to prolong this debate, or to occupy the time of the Senate. I content myself with two remarks. The Senator from Kentucky is not aware of his own popularity in Massachusetts, of the extent to which his name is an authority there, of the willingness of the people there to adopt anything with the sanction of his respectable name. I do not think the distinguished Senator is aware of that fact; consequently he does not see how easily the people of Massachusetts might be seduced to adopt at sight a proposition brought forward by him, which otherwise they would at once reject. Now all that I suggest in regard to these petitioners is, that, under the lead of the distinguished Senator, they put their names to a petition which I am sure they did not, in all respects and in all its bearings, fully understand; and I must do them the justice to believe, that, had they known the true character of the propositions of the Senator, they would not have signed petitions for their adoption.

This is all on that point; but I wish to make one other remark. The Senator intimated, if I understood him aright, that his propositions, at least in his own mind, were not applicable to territory hereafter acquired.

Mr. Sumner. The Senator did not consider that an essential part; and yet in the Journal of the Senate, now before me, in the yeas and nays, I find his name recorded in the affirmative on introducing those words, “now held or hereafter to be acquired.” Here is the record,—the name of the Senator from Kentucky answering yea, when we were all asked to answer yea or nay.

From Notes of undelivered Speech on the various Propositions of Compromise, February, 1861.

…

I would not say a word except of kindness and respect for the Senator of Kentucky [Mr. Crittenden]. But that Senator must pardon me, if I insist that he is entirely unreasonable in pressing his impracticable and unconstitutional propositions so persistently in the way of most important public business. Yesterday it hindered a great measure of Internal Improvement. To-day it blocks the admission of a State into this Union, being none other than Kansas, which has earned a better hospitality.

The Senator makes his appeal in the name of the Union. But I must remind him that he takes a poor way of showing that attachment to the Union which he avers. He turns round and lectures us who are devoted to the Union, when his lecture should be addressed to the avowed and open Disunionists in this Chamber. Nay, more, he actually sides with the Disunionists in their claims. Imagine Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, John Jay, Andrew Jackson, or Henry Clay, in the place of the venerable Senator. They would not wheel towards the known friends of the Union, and ask an impossible surrender of sacred principles, but rather face to face address the Disunionists frankly, plainly, austerely, calling upon them to renounce their evil schemes; to acknowledge the National Constitution, and especially in this age of light to make no new demands for Slavery.

In reply to the Senator, who so constantly lectures us, I say, look to the good examples of our history; take counsel of the Spirit of Nationalism, rather than Sectionalism, and be willing to defend the Constitution as it is, rather than patch it over with propositions which our fathers would have disowned.

…

Putting aside all question of concession or compromise, the single question remains, How shall we treat the seceding States? And this is the question which the new Administration will be called to meet. I see well that it will naturally bear much and forbear long,—that it will be moved by principle, and not by passion,—and that it will adopt the harsh instrumentalities of power only when all other things have failed. And I see well the powerful allies which will be enlisted on its side. There will be the civilization of the Christian world, speaking with the innumerable voices of the press, and constituting a Public Opinion of irresistible energy. There will be the great contemporary example of Italy, after a slumber of centuries aroused to assertion of her rights,—and of Russia also, now completing that memorable act of Emancipation by which Freedom is assured to twenty millions of serfs. There will be also the concurring action of European powers, which, turning with disgust from a new confederacy founded on Human Slavery, will refuse to recognize it in the Family of Nations. There will be also the essential weakness of Slavery with the perils of servile insurrection, which, under the influence of this discussion, must become more and more manifest in every respect. There will be also the essential strength of Freedom, as a principle, carrying victory in its right hand. And there will be Time, which is at once Reformer and Pacificator. Such are some of the allies sure to be on the side of the Administration.

Report from Committee on Foreign Relations, advising the President to submit the San Juan Boundary Question to Arbitration, in the Senate, March 19, 1861.

The Treaty concluded between Great Britain and the United States on the 15th of June, 1846, provided in its first Article that the line of boundary between the territories of her Britannic Majesty and those of the United States, from the point on the 49th parallel of north latitude, to which it was ascertained, should be continued westward along this parallel, “to the middle of the channel which separates the continent from Vancouver’s Island, and thence southerly, through the middle of said channel and of Fuca’s Straits, to the Pacific Ocean.” When the commissioners appointed by the two Governments to mark the boundary line came to that part of it required to run southerly through the channel dividing the continent from Vancouver’s Island, they differed entirely in their opinions, not only concerning the true point of deflection from the 49th parallel, but also as to the channel intended in the Treaty. After long discussion, producing no result, they reported a disagreement to their respective Governments. Since then the two Governments, through their ministers here and at London, have carried on a voluminous correspondence on the matter in controversy, each sustaining the conclusion of its own commissioner, and neither yielding in any degree to the other. Meanwhile the unsettled condition of this question produced serious local disturbance, and on one occasion threatened to destroy the harmonious relations existing between Great Britain and the United States, causing serious anxiety.

If our construction of the Treaty be right, the island of San Juan, with other small islands, will fall to the United States, while, if the British interpretation be adopted, these islands will be on their side of the line. President Buchanan, in his Message to the Senate of February 21, 1861, declared his conviction that the territory thus in dispute “is ours by the Treaty fairly and impartially construed.” But the British Government, on their side, insist that it is theirs. The argument on both sides seems to have been exhausted.

Under these circumstances, it appears from the correspondence submitted to the Senate, that General Cass, Secretary of State, by letter of June 25, 1860, to Lord Lyons, the British Minister at Washington, invited the British Government to make a proposition of adjustment. Here are his words:—

The reply of the British Government to this invitation was communicated by Lord Lyons, in a letter to General Cass, dated December 10, 1860, in the course of which he uses the following language.

Lord Lyons then proceeds to details connected with the offered arbitration, and, in behalf of his Government, proposes that the King of the Netherlands, or the King of Sweden and Norway, or the President of the Federal Council of Switzerland should be invited to be arbiter.

Upon these facts the President submits to the consideration of the Senate the following interrogatories.

The Committee, in conclusion, recommend to the Senate the adoption of the following Resolution.

Speech before the Third Massachusetts Rifles, in the Armory at New York, April 21, 1861.

Major Devens, Soldiers, and Fellow-Citizens of Massachusetts:—

Being in New York, on my way home from Washington to our beloved Massachusetts, and learning that you also were here on your way to duty, I have called, that I might have the privilege of looking upon your faces. [Cheers.] Your commanding officer, whom I have known long in other walks of life, does me the honor of inviting me to say a few words. If I have yielded, it is because he is irresistible, for I feel in my soul that action, and not speech, is needed now. [Cheers.] Elsewhere it has been my part to speak. It is your part now to act. [Applause.] Nor do I doubt that you will act as becomes the Commonwealth that has committed to you her name. [Cheers.]

I cannot see before me so large a number of the sons of Massachusetts, already moving to the scene of trial, without feeling anew the loss we have just encountered: I allude to the death, at Baltimore, of devoted fellow-citizens, who had sprung forward so promptly at the call of country. As I heard that they had fallen, my soul was touched. And yet, when I thought of the cause for which they met death, I said to myself, that, for the sake of Massachusetts, ay, and for their own sake, I would not have it otherwise. [Enthusiastic applause.] They have died well, for they died at the post of duty, and so dying have become an example and a name in history, while Massachusetts, that sent them forth, adds new memories to a day already famous in her calendar, and links the present with the past. It was on the 19th of April that they died, and their blood was the first offering of patriotism in the great cause which snatched them from the avocations of peace. Thus have they passed at once into companionship with those forefathers who on the 19th of April, 1775, made also the offering of their blood. [Loud cheers.] Lexington is not alone. As on that historic field, Massachusetts blood is again the first to be spilled, and in a conflict which is but a continuation of the other; and these dying volunteers have placed Massachusetts once more foremost, as on that morning which heralded Independence. [Cheers.] Therefore I would not have it otherwise. [Cheers.] Nor do I doubt that the day we now deplore will be followed, as was that earlier day, by certain triumph. [Cheers.]

Those other times, when our forefathers struggled for Independence against the British power, were often said “to try men’s souls”; and these words are yet repeated to depict those trials. But, witnessing the willingness and alacrity with which patriot citizens now offer themselves for country, and to die, if need be, I look in vain for signs that souls are tried. [Cheers.] And yet I cannot disguise from you, soldiers, that there are hardships and perils in your path. But what is victory, unless through hardship and peril? [Cheers.] Be brave, then, and do the duty to which you are called; and if you need any watchword, let it be, Massachusetts, the Constitution, and FREEDOM! [Loud applause from the soldiers.]

Note to the Secretary of State, June 27, 1861.

Proceedings in the Senate, on the Crittenden Resolution declaring the Object of the War, July 24 and 25, 1861.

I am unwilling to stand in the way of any desire of the Senator from Tennessee [Mr. Andrew Johnson]. I hesitate, therefore, to use the privilege, under the rules, of objecting to a resolution on the day of its introduction; but I do think, in view of its importance, that it ought at least to be printed, so that we may have an opportunity of reading it carefully and considering it well, before we act upon it. Therefore I object to its consideration at this time. I wish the Senator to understand that it is with great respect for himself, and with a desire to do really what the occasion, as I think, requires. I hope the Senator himself will consent that it lie on the table and be printed.

Speech in the Senate, against Increase of Ten per Cent on all Foreign Duties, July 29, 1861.

MR. PRESIDENT,—I think we had better take a vote on the simple proposition, because in that way we shall arrive at the precise wishes of the Senate. I therefore move to strike out the words just read; and if I can have the attention of the Senate for two minutes, I think I can explain why they should be stricken out.

It will be remembered that in the latter days of the last session a new tariff was adopted; but, owing to the disturbed state of the country, and the impediments to commerce, it is not too much to say that we have no present experience of its operation. We do not know to what extent it will supply revenue. While thus ignorant of its operation, it is proposed to make an important change, being nothing less than to pile another story upon what is already criticised as too high. In addition to all existing duties, we are asked to impose a further duty of ten per cent. In the present exigencies of the country, if there were reasonable assurance that out of such extraordinary tax the revenue would be advanced, I should have nothing to say against it,—on the contrary, I should hold up both hands for it; but, so far as I am informed,—and I have taken pains to inform myself,—there is no reasonable ground to believe that the addition of ten per cent extra upon present duties would yield any additional revenue.

Mr. Sumner. The Senator properly directs attention to an important point. I said there was no reasonable assurance that there would be an increase of revenue. I believe that I may go further, as the Senator has suggested, and say that a tariff so far prohibitory will actually diminish instead of increasing revenue. Where then will be your revenue? Revenue comes from commerce, and is just in proportion to the extent of commerce; but if you make commerce impossible, where is your revenue? You kill the bird that lays the golden egg.

There is a pleasant story, which I remember to have heard, of a shopkeeper who once announced to his friends that before breakfast he had increased his fortune by ten per cent; but, on inquiry, it was ascertained that he had merely marked his goods on hand at an increased price of ten per cent, and that was his boasted increase. I much fear that this additional ten per cent will be equally vain for the increase of our national revenue.

But, Mr. President, while the advantages of this proposed increase are all uncertain, there are disadvantages that are certain. It will add to the bad name which, unhappily, the tariff of the last session has already with those disposed to criticise it, and especially with foreign countries. At this moment, when every suggestion of prudence dictates that in our relations with foreign countries we should be governed by a supreme policy of moderation, conciliation, and good-will, you propose to take a step which, to say the least of it, will be regarded as indicative of hostility or of indifference. Now, whatever may be the sentiments and the feelings of European Governments with regard to us, it is perfectly clear that the laboring classes of Europe do sympathize with us in our present struggle; and all those sympathies you turn aside, when you impose prohibitory duties which cut off a market for their labor. I am therefore, Mr. President, opposed to this increase on two positive grounds: first, because its advantages are uncertain; secondly, because its disadvantages are certain.

I know the Senator does not intend to misstate my argument. I assumed that there would be no increase of revenue from this additional ten per cent,—at least, that the advantages of the increase were uncertain, doubtful; and then that it was very certain there would be disadvantages.

Mr. President,—The Senator and myself are perfectly agreed in our main object. Here there is no difference between us. Each desires to secure the largest revenue. For myself, I know no bounds to this desire. The simple question is, How will this be best accomplished? The Senator puts forward the proposition to increase by ten per cent all existing duties, and he does this while still ignorant of the actual working of the tariff established in March. To our inexperience with regard to that tariff he would add further inexperience with regard to the effect of the proposed increase. Now this may be good policy; but it does not seem so to me. The commerce of the country cannot bear such constant change, especially in the direction proposed. The revenue will not gain by it.

For good or for evil, what is familiarly known as the “Morrill Tariff” has been adopted. The commerce of the country has taken note of its requisitions, and is now ready to govern itself accordingly. And it seems to me that the House of Representatives acted wisely, in seeking to increase the revenue by duties on selected articles, which it was thought could bear the tax, rather than by wholesale change, which must cause the whole system to be remodelled. In this respect the House bill has an advantage over that brought forward by the Senator from Rhode Island [Mr. Simmons] and maintained so zealously by the Senator from Maine [Mr. Fessenden].

But the Senator from Maine says he is unwilling to hearken to suggestions from foreign nations.

Mr. Sumner. Pray, who has dictated to us, or who assumes any such right? And as to suggestions, which the Senator says he welcomes, I am not aware that any foreign nation, or any person representing any foreign nation, has made even a suggestion that could come within the criticism, swift as it is, of the Senator. Nor, indeed, am I aware of any suggestion in any form to this body. Surely the Senator is mistaken. He must in his imagination exaggerate something that he has heard; or perhaps he misinterprets something that fell from myself.

Let me not be misunderstood. I have said that this ten per cent proposition, if adopted, will give your tariff a bad name among those who are disposed to criticise it, and especially with foreign countries. Was I not right? Is it not true? Willingly I take the censure of the Senator, while I strive at this moment to secure for my country sympathy from every quarter, even from foreign nations; nor shall I be disturbed by anything which fell from the Senator. I am accustomed to criticism in this body. And I beg to say that I shrink from no responsibility which belongs to my position. If duty requires that foreign nations should be encountered by a policy harassing to their industry, I shall take my full share of this grave responsibility; but until I see the path of duty in that direction, I hope that I may be pardoned, if I prefer a policy doubly commended as most beneficial to us and least hurtful to them.

I am unwilling that my country at this moment should pursue a shadow, and in the end find that it has gained nothing but ill-will. Strong as we are, we cannot afford to augment the odium created by our late tariff. Better husband our resources,—among which I place the sympathies of the civilized world, and of those laboring classes whose industry must suffer by your act, without, I fear, any corresponding benefit to us.

Speech before the Republican State Convention at Worcester, Massachusetts, October 1, 1861. With Appendix.

FELLOW-CITIZENS,—In meeting fellow-citizens of Massachusetts, who have come together from all parts of the Commonwealth, I find myself in a familiar scene, but plainly things are changed. Yes, there is a great change, and it is manifest in our Convention.

No longer are we met, as so often in times past, on questions of controversy, or to sustain our cause by argument. That hour has passed. Formerly I have exhibited to you the atrocities of the Fugitive Slave Bill; I have rejoiced to show that Freedom was National and Slavery Sectional; I have striven to prevent the spread of Slavery in the Territories; I have vindicated especially Freedom in Kansas, assailed by slaveholding conspirators; I have exposed the tyrannical usurpations of the Slave Oligarchy; and I have dragged into light the huge and hideous Barbarism of Slavery. [Applause.] But these topics have passed into history, and are no longer of practical interest. They are not of to-day.

Let us rejoice that at least so much is gained, and from the extent of present triumph take hope and courage for the future. Providence will be with the good cause in times to come, as in times past. Others may despair; I do not. Others may see gloom; I cannot. Others may hesitate; I will not. [Applause.] Already is the nation saved. Great as seems the present peril, there was peril greater far, while it was sinking year after year under the rule of Slavery. How often have I exclaimed, in times past, that our foremost object was the Emancipation of the National Government, so that no longer should it be the slave of Slavery, ready to do its bidding in all things! But this surpassing victory has been won. It was won first by the ballot-box, when Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the United States [applause]; and it was won the second time by the cartridge-box, when, at the command of the President, the guns of Fort Sumter returned defiance to the Rebel artillery. [Three cheers.] Such is the madness of Slavery that the first was not enough; unhappily, the second was needed to complete the work.

God be praised, much is already done. The Slave Oligarchy, which, according to vaunt of a slaveholding Senator, has ruled the Republic for more than fifty years,—which has stamped its degrading character upon the national forehead,—which has entered into and possessed not only the politics, but the literature, and even the religion of the land,—which has embroiled us at home, and given us a bad name abroad,—which has wielded at will President, Cabinet, and even judicial tribunals,—which has superseded Public Opinion by substituting its own immoral behests,—which has appropriated to itself the offices and honors of the Republic,—which has established Slavery as the single test and shibboleth of favor,—which, after opening all our Territories to this wrong, was already promising to renew the Slave-Trade and its unutterable woes,—nay, more, which, in the instinct of that tyranny through which it ruled, was beating down all safeguard of human rights, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, security of person, and delivering the whole country to a sway whose vulgarity was second only to its madness,—this domineering Slave Oligarchy is dislodged from the National Government, never more to return. [Immense sensation.] Thus far, at least, has Emancipation prevailed. The greatest slave of all is free.

If at any moment we are disposed to be disheartened, if the Future is not always clear before us, we may find ample motive for joy in the victory already achieved. Pillars greater than those of Hercules might fitly mark this progress.

Among the obvious results of such victory is one to be enjoyed especially on this occasion. It is Slavery which has been the origin of our party divisions, keeping men asunder who ought to act together. But with the expulsion of this disturber the apology for difference ceases. All patriots, all who truly love their country, may now act together,—no matter in what party combination they have appeared, no matter of what accent the speech by which their present duties are declared. Call them Democrats, Union men, natives, or foreigners, what you will, are we not all engaged in a common cause? Nor will I claim as yet the highest praise for those with whom I am most intimately associated. I have read history too well not to remember that faithful allies are sometimes superior even to domestic veterans. Hannibal relied less on his own Carthaginians than on his Spanish infantry and Numidian horse.

The Government is assailed by a rebellion without precedent. Never, since Satan warred upon the Almighty, has rebellion assumed such a front [applause], and never before has it begun in such a cause. The Rebels are numerous and powerful, and their cause is Slavery. [Sensation.]

It is the very essence of rebellion to be audacious, unhesitating, unscrupulous. Rebellion sticks at nothing,—least of all, rebellion beginning in Slavery. It can be encountered successfully only by vigor and energy surpassing its own. Patriotism as a motive surely is not less potent than Treason. It must be invoked. By all the memories of your fathers, who founded this Republic and delivered to you the precious heritage, by all the sentiments of gratitude for the good you have enjoyed beneath its protecting care, are you summoned to its defence. Defence did I say? With mortification I utter the word; but you all know the truth.

Rebel conspirators have set upon us, and now besiege the National Government. They besiege it at Washington, where are the President and his Cabinet with the national archives. They besiege it at Fortress Monroe on the Atlantic, at St. Louis on the Mississippi, and now they besiege it in Kentucky. Everywhere we are on the defensive. [Sensation.] Strongholds are wrested from us. Soldiers gathered under the folds of the national flag are compelled to surrender. Citizens, whose only offence is loyalty, are driven from their homes. Bridges are burned. Railways are disabled. Steamers and ships are seized. The largest navy-yard of the country is appropriated. Commerce is hunted on the sea, and property, wherever it can be reached, ruthlessly robbed or destroyed. Only within a few days we have read the order of one Buckner, Rebel commander in Kentucky, directing the destruction of a most important lock, by which Green River was rendered navigable. Pardon me, if I ask attention to this intercepted order. It is instructive, as showing the spirit with which we have to deal.

It is still doubtful if the work of destruction was accomplished. But the military order remains. Thus madly was it attempted to sweep away the most valuable of the internal improvements of Kentucky, being part of the pride and wealth of the State.

Do you ask in whose name all this is done? The answer is easy. Not “in the name of God and the Continental Congress,” as Ethan Allen summoned Ticonderoga,—but “in the name of Slavery.” In the name of Slavery, and nothing else, is all this crime, destruction, and ravage perpetrated; and the work still proceeds.

Look at the war as you will, and you always see Slavery,—as the renowned orator of Rome saw in the evil about him only the great conspirator. Never were his words more applicable: Nullum facinus exstitit, nisi per te; nullum flagitium sine te: “No villany but has owed its existence to thee; no shameful thing has been done without thee.”[149] Slavery is our Catiline, being to this war everything,—inspiration, motive power, end and aim, be-all and end-all. And this brings me to an important statement.

It is often said that war will make an end of Slavery. This is probable. But it is surer still that the overthrow of Slavery will make an end of the war. [Tumultuous applause and cheers.]

If I am correct in this averment, which I believe beyond question, then do reason, justice, and policy unite, each and all, in declaring that the war must be brought to bear directly on the grand conspirator and omnipresent enemy. [Here the vociferous cheers of the Convention interrupted the speaker.] Not to do so is to take upon ourselves all the weakness of Slavery, while we leave to the Rebels its boasted resources of military strength. [Cheers.] Not to do so is to squander life and treasure in a vain masquerade of battle, without practical result. Not to do so is blindly to neglect the plainest dictates of economy, humanity, and common sense,—and, alas! simply to let slip the dogs of war on a mad chase over the land, never to stop until spent with fatigue or sated with slaughter. [Sensation.]

Believe me, fellow-citizens, I know all imagined difficulties and unquestioned responsibilities. But, if you are in earnest, the difficulties will at once disappear, and the responsibilities are such as you will gladly bear. This is not the first time that a knot hard to untie was cut by the sword [cheers]; and we all know that danger flees before the brave man. Believe that you can, and you can. The will only is needed. Courage now is the highest prudence. [Applause.]

It is not necessary even, borrowing a familiar phrase, to carry the war into Africa. It will be enough, if we carry Africa into the war [here the outburst of applause compelled the speaker to suspend his remarks], in any form, any quantity, any way. [Continued applause.] The moment this is done, Rebellion will begin its bad luck, and the Union become secure forever. [Cheers.]

History teaches by examples. The occasion does not allow me to show how completely this monitor points our duty and certain triumph. I content myself with two instances of special mark,—one from ancient Greece, and the other from ancient Rome.

The most fatal day for ancient Greece was that “dishonest victory” at Chæronea, when Philip of Macedon triumphed over combined forces, in which Demosthenes was enlisted as a soldier. The panic was universal. Athens was thrown into consternation. Her great orator had fought bravely, but ineffectually. Another orator, called by Milton “that old man eloquent,” died suddenly on hearing the report of the defeat. The Book of Fate seemed about to close, while the proud Athenian State sank to be a Macedonian province. Then it was that a patriot orator, Hyperides, launched a proposition to emancipate the slaves. The effect was electric. The royal Philip, already strong in victory, trembled. King and conqueror, he was statesman also, and saw well that such a proposition, begun in Athens, would shake all Greece, even to his powerful throne, which the young Alexander was preparing to mount. His triumphant course was arrested, and peace secured.[150]

The other instance is in Roman history. You will find it in Plutarch’s Life of Caius Marius. Six times Consul,—victor over the redoubtable Jugurtha, also over the innumerable Teutones and Cimbri,—hailed as Saviour of Rome, and then, in the terrible vicissitudes of civil feud, driven from his country to find shelter in the ruins of Carthage,—this great general, returning from exile, was able to effect a landing in Italy. The incident is recorded in these words,—and you must acknowledge that such immense military experience gives to the example highest authority:—

Thus far Plutarch. It is needless to add that Marius soon found himself master of Rome. [Applause.]

These are historic instances. I do not adduce them for blind acceptance, but simply that you may see how in times past defeat was stayed and victory won by a generous word for Freedom. Men die and disappear; but the Human Family continues the same, in passions and fears, as when Philip was frightened back from Athens, as when Marius was borne in triumph to Rome. [Applause.]

To these great teachers I would add the authority of the ancient Roman Law, and I refer you for it to the common Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities[152] now used in all our schools. According to that law, the state of Slavery might be terminated in at least three different modes: first, by manumission; secondly, by enactment of reward to the slave; and, thirdly, by enactment of punishment to the master. [Great sensation.] If the master failed to be a good citizen, he might be punished, so that he should suffer in property, and at the same time others gain what is more than property,—freedom. But I do not cite even this example of a time-honored jurisprudence for absolute guidance. I will not doubt, that, in the unparalleled circumstances by which we are encompassed, justice will be done.

Already the way is easy. A simple declaration, that all men within the lines of the United States troops are freemen, will be in strict conformity with the Constitution, and also with precedent. The Constitution knows no man as slave. It treats all within its jurisdiction as persons, while the exceptional provision for the rendition of persons held to service or labor, you will observe, is carefully confined to such as have escaped into another State,—so that in Virginia it cannot require the surrender of a Virginia slave, nor in Missouri of a Missouri slave. It is clear, therefore, that there is no sanction under the Constitution for turning a national camp into a slave-pen, or for turning military officers into slave-hunters. Let this plain construction be adopted, and then, as our lines advance, Freedom will be established everywhere, and the national flag in its triumphant march will wave with new glory. [Applause.]

A brave General whom Massachusetts has given to the country, though commencing his career with prejudices derived from the Proslavery school of politicians, has known how to see this question in its true light: I mean, of course, General Butler. [Immense cheering, interrupting the speaker for some time.] He has declared, in a letter to the Secretary of War, dated Fortress Monroe, 30th July, 1861, with reference to fugitive slaves, that it is his duty to “take the same care of these men, women, and children, houseless, homeless, and unprovided for, as he would of the same number of men, women, and children who for their attachment to the Union had been driven or allowed to flee from the Confederate States.”[153] These words are better for his reputation than a victory. [Applause and cheers.] Humanity and wisdom go together, and here we see both.

There is similar and unimpeachable testimony from a succession of Generals, all born, living, and dying in the South: I mean Gaines, Taylor, and Jesup, who, one after another, commanded in that protracted war instigated by the Slave Power against the Seminoles, and waged at such cost of treasure and life. Fugitives from Slavery, known as the Exiles of Florida, found a home among these Indian warriors, and the question arose how they should be treated, being, on a smaller scale, the very question which now occupies us. Major-General Gaines insisted, that, when captured, they were prisoners of war, and, in reply to claimants, he refused to surrender them, somewhat in the temper of Hotspur, even to the extent of denying his prisoners.[154] Then followed Major-General Taylor, afterwards President, who, in reply to claimants asking him “to turn over certain negroes,” said, “I cannot for a moment consent to meddle with this transaction,”[155]—thus giving example of just sensibility. At last the Exiles surrendered to Major-General Jesup as freemen. Afterwards, when their condition was in question, the General wrote: “By my Proclamation, and the Convention made with them, when they separated from the Indians and surrendered, they are free.” And then again he wrote: “I, as commander of the army, and in the capacity of representative of my country, solemnly pledged the national faith that they should not be separated, nor any of them sold to white men or others, but be allowed to settle and remain in separate villages, under the protection of the United States.”[156] Thus apparent, from beginning to end, are obligations to fugitives from bondage, while by concurring and consecutive authority that principle is established under which the camp becomes a refuge against Slavery.

This conclusion is reinforced by language attributed to General Gaines, and extensively published in the newspapers. “The military officer can enter into no judicial examination of the claim of one man to the bone and muscle of another as property. Nor could he as a military officer know what the laws of Florida were, while engaged in maintaining the Federal Government by force of arms. In such case he could only be guided by the Laws of War; and whatever may be the laws of any State, they must yield to the safety of the Federal Government.” Nothing can be clearer, stronger, or more to the point.

Thus have we example in the past as in the present, and from military quarters, pointing to a rule, which, though of seeming simplicity, would be of incalculable efficacy, if honestly and sincerely enforced. Then would our camps become nurseries of freemen, and every common soldier a chain-breaker, while Slavery shrunk out of sight.

There is a higher agency that may be invoked, which is at the same time under the Constitution and above the Constitution: I mean Martial Law in its plenitude, and declared by solemn Proclamation. It is under the Constitution, because the War Power to which it belongs is positively recognized by the Constitution. It is above the Constitution, because, when set in motion, like necessity, it knows no other law. For the time it is Law and Constitution. The civil power, in mass and detail, is superseded, and all rights are subordinate to this military magistracy. Other agencies, small and great, executive, legislative, and even judicial, are absorbed in a transcendent triune power, which, for the time, declares its absolute will, while holding alike the scales of justice and the sword of the executioner. The existence of this power nobody questions. If rarely exercised in our country, and never largely, the power is none the less fixed in our political system. As well strike out the kindred law of self-defence, belonging to states as to individuals. Martial Law is only a form of self-defence.

That this law might be employed against Slavery, without impediment from State Rights, was first proclaimed in the House of Representatives by a Massachusetts statesman, who was a champion of Freedom, John Quincy Adams. [Applause.] His authority is such that I content myself with the sanction of his name, which becomes more commanding when we consider the circumstances under which he first put forth this great rule, then repeated it, and then again most defiantly vindicated it.

Student of history, and of Public Law in all its forms, from earliest youth, under the teaching of his father, counsellor-at-law, Senator of the United States, Minister at foreign courts, including Holland, Prussia, Russia, England, negotiator of Peace at Ghent, then Secretary of State and President, this illustrious citizen, after such varied experience, entered the House of Representatives, where it became his duty to expound the War Power in our government, especially with regard to Slavery. On such a question, his whole life was the open book from which he spoke with magistral authority. No well-worn, dog-eared volume was needed. Himself was enough. And the circumstances of the debate, with the sensitiveness of the hour, gave new force to the principle which he announced.

A select committee on the Abolition of Slavery reported a resolution declaring “That Congress possesses no Constitutional authority to interfere in any way with the institution of Slavery in any of the States of this Confederacy.” Before the vote, the Ex-President asked to be heard, saying, “If the House will allow me five minutes’ time, I pledge myself to prove that resolution false and utterly untrue.”[157] Here he was called to order, and resumed his seat. The resolution was adopted. Immediately thereafter, on the same day, he obtained the floor on another subject, being a resolution for the distribution of rations among unfortunate sufferers in Alabama and Georgia, and having first remarked that his reasons for voting against the former resolution, founded on the power of Congress, would be a justification for the vote he should give in favor of the proposed distribution, he proceeded to discuss the War Power under the Constitution, portraying the various wars actually menaced, including a civil war, while with prophetic voice he exclaimed, “Your own Southern and Southwestern States must be the battle-field upon which the last great conflict must be fought between Slavery and Emancipation,” and then announced the supreme power of Congress.

I give but an extract. Again, after other years, with added experience, we find this exalted citizen asserting the same War Power, and holding up to terrified Slave-Masters the prospect of Universal Emancipation.[159]

Meanwhile the question was discussed by friend and foe, being always in the blaze of the public press, when, on the 14th of April, 1842, our champion returned to it again, asserting the power of Congress with new vigor and detail. This was after the introduction of resolutions by Mr. Giddings, setting forth the relations of the National Government to Slavery, where it was declared without reservation that each of the several States composing this Union has full and exclusive jurisdiction over the subject of Slavery within its own territory.[160] The Ex-President, while accepting the other resolutions, was unwilling to vote for this complete surrender to the Slave States, and here again he was driven to find opportunity for speech on another question. It was on the Civil and Diplomatic Appropriation Bill, and the salaries of our foreign ministers, when, with masterly ability, in a speech of two days,[161] he reviewed our foreign relations, warning especially against war with England and Mexico; and then by natural transition depicted again the power of Congress in such emergency. These are his words:—

Still further, he announces, in words precisely applicable to the present hour:—

Condensing then the whole subject, and bringing it all into one final statement, he says:—

His confidence in this principle was complete. As he uttered it, he said, addressing the Presiding Officer, “I have no more doubt of it than that you, Sir, occupy that chair”; and he called upon Slave-Masters to answer him, if they could, “not by indignation, not by passion and fury, but by sound and sober reasoning from the Laws of Nations and the Laws of War.” No attempt to answer him was ever made; but the wrath of Slavery was poured still more unsparingly upon the head of the venerable orator. Meanwhile his words have stood as a towering landmark and beacon-flame.

In the protracted controversy now drawing to a close in blood, Massachusetts has done much. She, first of all, gave the example of Universal Freedom within her borders; and ever since that early day she has taken the leading part against Slavery. It is her children who have never failed in this cause, where anything was to be done, whether by word or deed. Massachusetts, for years, has borne the burden of this discussion, and also the heavier burden of obloquy long resting upon all who speak for the slave. It is Massachusetts who with patriotic ardor first leaped to the rescue, when the capital was menaced by Slavery [applause], and by happy coincidence, on the 19th of April, consecrated herself anew by the blood of her people [applause],—thus being at the same time first to do and first to suffer. [Immense applause.] It was also a Massachusetts General who first in this conflict proclaimed that our camps cannot contain a slave [vociferous applause]; and it was an illustrious Massachusetts statesman who first unfolded the beneficent principle by virtue of which, constitutionally, legally, and without excess of any kind, the President, or a Commanding General, may become more than conqueror, even Liberator. [Applause and great sensation.]

Massachusetts will be false to herself, if she fails at this moment. [Sensation.] And yet I would not be misunderstood. Feeling most profoundly that there is an opportunity now for incalculable good, such as occurs rarely in human annals, seeing clearly that there is one spot, like the heel of Achilles, where this great Rebellion may be wounded to death, I calmly deliver the whole question to the judgment of those on whom the responsibility rests, contenting myself with reminding you that there are times when not to act carries with it greater responsibility than to act. It is enough for us to review the unquestioned powers of Government to handle for a moment its mighty weapons, yet allowed to slumber, without assuming to declare that the hour has come when they shall flash against the sky.

May a good Providence save our Republic from that everlasting regret which must ensue, if a great opportunity is lost by which all the bleeding wounds of war shall be stanched, and prosperity again assured, while Peace is made immortal in the embrace of Liberty! [Applause.] Saul was cursed for not hewing Agag in pieces when this enemy was in his hands, and Ahab was cursed for not destroying Benhadad. Let no such curse ever descend upon us!

Anxious as I am, I cannot doubt the result; but I long to make it more sure and inevitable. Among works of art handed down from Antiquity, and regarded with greatest wonder, is that unrivalled marble, where Laocoön with his two sons is sculptured in serpent folds, vainly struggling, and slowly yielding to terrific death. Poetry also has pictured the scene. Thus does our country now writhe in the torturing folds of Slavery, the fearful serpent which came swimming out of the sea and fastened upon the Republic; but, God be praised! the Republic shall live, and the serpent be bruised to death.

“So many enemies as slaves!”[165] Unless this ancient proverb has ceased to be true, there are now four millions of enemies intermingled with the Rebels, toiling in their fields, digging in their camps, and sitting at their firesides, constituting four millions of allies to the National Government. Careful calculation demonstrates, that, out of this number, more than one million are of an age for military service,—that in Virginia alone there are 121,564 male slaves of this important period, in Missouri 21,334, and in Kentucky 51,900. Can we afford to reject this natural alliance, quickened by a common interest, and consecrated by humanity? I call the alliance natural. Let history testify; and here I quote acknowledged authority. In the famous Peloponnesian War, when Greece suffered as we are suffering now, and her own people were arrayed under hostile banners, Greek meeting Greek, slaves often passed over from one side to the other, carrying sometimes oxen and sheep, and always practical knowledge of the country,—on one occasion twenty thousand in number, mostly mechanics: all of which is described by the great historian Thucydides,[166] who records also that the martial Lacedæmonians, in dread of their Helots, most cruelly took the lives of two thousand, selected for energy and character.[167] Thus in other days have slaves played their part, while slave-masters dwelt in fear. Of this trepidation there are abundant illustrations, some farcical. From Aristophanes we learn, that, during the same Peloponnesian War, the Athenians were unwilling to punish their slaves, lest they should desert. This dramatist, in one of his most famous comedies, has a character who, after exclaiming that “the slaves snore as never before,” pours forth his maledictions on the War, because he can no longer apply to them the wonted castigation.[168] The great philosopher of Greece accords with the historian and dramatist. Plato does not hesitate to say that “slaves and masters can never become friends”;[169] and he tells us how frequent are servile insurrections, especially in cities where the slaves speak one language, instancing customary outbreaks of the Messenians, and crowning his statement with the declaration, prompted by the universal human heart, even without experience as a slave, which had been his own lot, that “a man is a difficult possession to hold”:[170] and here our Fugitive Slave Bill with its terrible conditions, and the fugitive slaves of our country with their tragedies, are in harmony with this voice from Antiquity.

There is another motive not to be neglected. Without this alliance insurrection is inevitable, destined to be wild and lawless. This should be prevented. If Liberty does not descend from the tranquil heights of power, it will rise in blood, amidst the confusion of families. And what difference between the two apparitions! One has the face of an angel, radiant with celestial life; the other the front of a demon, “shaking from its horrid hair pestilence and war.” [Great applause and cheering.] All this was clearly seen by the Emperor of Russia, when, on the 21st of September, 1858, he called upon his people to unite with him in Emancipation, “which,” he nobly declared, “ought to begin from above, to the end that it may not come from below”; and now this very year twenty millions of Russian serfs are peacefully passing from the house of bondage. Cheered by this great example, forget not that it began from above.

There is another practical advantage where the action proceeds from Government. The interest of loyal citizens can be protected. Compensation may relieve the hardships of meritorious classes, or of individual cases; nor can I object. Never should any question of money be allowed to interfere with human freedom. Better an empty treasury than a single slave. A Bridge of Gold would be cheap, if demanded by the retreating Fiend.

Two objects are before us, Union and Peace, each for the sake of the other, and both for the sake of the country; but without Emancipation how can we expect either?

Fellow-citizens, I have spoken frankly; for such is always my habit. Never was there greater need of frankness. Let patriots understand each other and they cannot differ widely. All will unite in whatever is required by the sovereign exigencies of self-defence; which means that all will unite in sustaining the National Government, and driving back the Rebels. But this cannot be by any half-way measure or lukewarm policy. There must be no hesitation. Hearken not to the voice of Slavery, no matter what its tone of persuasion. It is the gigantic Traitor and Parricide,—not for a moment to be trusted. Believe me, its friendship is more deadly than its enmity. [Sensation.] If you are wise, prudent, economical, conservative, practical, you will strike quick and hard,—strike, too, where the blow will be most felt,—strike at the mainspring of the Rebellion. Strike in the name of the Union, which only in this way can be restored,—in the name of Peace, which is vain without Union,—and in the name of Liberty also, sure to bring both Peace and Union in her glorious train.

Oration, under the Auspices of the Young Men’s Republican Union of New York, at Cooper Institute, November 27, 1861. With Appendix.

MR. PRESIDENT,—It is my nature to be more touched by the kindness of friends than by the malignity of enemies; and I know something of both. You make me feel that I am among friends. Beyond this satisfaction, I have additional pleasure in being welcomed by the Republican Union: first, as you represent the young men, who are the hope and strength of the country; and, secondly, as you constitute an association which has rendered already signal service in saving the country from the rule of the Slave Oligarchy. I know well how you brought forward and supported Abraham Lincoln for the Presidency, and how you adopted and circulated that masterly speech, made in this very hall, which completed those titles to regard that caused his nomination at Chicago and his triumph with the people.

Fellow-Citizens of New York:

In the presence of such an auditory, so genial and almost festive in character,—assembled for no purpose of party, or even of politics, in the ordinary sense of the term,—I incline naturally to some topic of literature, history, science, or art,—to something, at least, which accords with peace. But at this moment, when our whole continent is beginning to shake with the tread of mustering armies, the voice refuses any such theme. The ancient poet, longing to sing of Achilles and the house of Atreus, found that he could sing of love only; and he snatched from his lyre its bloody string. Alas! for me the case is all changed. I can speak to you of war only; but be assured, that, if I speak of war, it is because, unhappily, war has become to us the only way of peace.

The Present is apt to appear trivial and unimportant, while the Past and the Future are grand. Rarely do men know the full significance of the period in which they live, and we are inclined to sigh for something better in the way of opportunity,—such as was given to the hero of the Past, or as imagination allots to the better hero of the Future. But there is no occasion for this repining now. There is nothing in the Past, and it is difficult to imagine anything in the Future, more inspiring than our Present. Even with the curtain yet slightly lifted, it is easy to see that events are gathering, which, in their development, must constitute the third great epoch in the history of this Western Hemisphere,—the first being its discovery by Christopher Columbus, and the second the American Revolution. It remains to be seen if this epoch of ours may not surpass in grandeur either of its two predecessors, so that the fame of the Discoverer and the fame of the Liberator, of Columbus and of Washington, shall be eclipsed by the mild effulgence beaming from an act of godlike justice, creating within its immediate influence a new heaven and a new earth, and extending to other lands a life-giving example, so long as men struggle for rights denied, so long as any human being wears a chain. And this sublime act will be the present substitute for armies. The ancient Spartan, being asked, “Which is the greater virtue, justice or valor?” answered in memorable words, “Where justice is, there can be no need of valor.”

War is always an epoch. Unhappily, history counts by wars. Of these, some are wars of ideas,—like that between Catholics and Huguenots in France, between Catholics and Protestants in Germany, between the arbitrary crown of Charles the First and the Puritanism of Oliver Cromwell, and like that between our fathers and the mother country, when the Declaration of Independence was put in issue. Some originate in questions of form, some in the contentions of families, some in the fickleness of princes, and some in the machinations of politicians. England waged war on Holland, and one of the reasons openly assigned was an offensive picture in the Town-Hall of Amsterdam. France hurled armies across the Rhine, carrying fire and slaughter into the Palatinate, and involving great nations in most bloody conflict,—and all this wickedness is traced to the intrigue of a minister, to divert the attention of his sovereign. But we are now in the midst of a war which, whatever the reasons assigned by the unhappy men who began it, or by those who sympathize with them elsewhere, has an origin and mainspring so clear and definite as to be beyond question. Ideas are sometimes good and sometimes bad; and there may be a war for evil as well as for good. Such was that earliest rebellion waged by fallen spirits against the Almighty Throne; and such is that now waged by fallen slave-masters of our Republic against the National Government. I adopt the language of Milton, in his masterly prose, when I call it “a war fit for Cain to be the leader of,—an abhorred, a cursed, a fraternal war.”[205] Nor can any courage in Rebels give true honor. If victorious, they will be only Satanic saints of Slavery, with place in a most hateful hagiology.

If you will kindly listen, I shall endeavor to unmask this Rebellion in its Origin and Mainspring. Only when these are known can you determine how it is to be treated. Your efforts will be governed by the character of the adverse force,—whether regarded as motive power or as disease. A steam-engine is stopped at once by stopping the steam. A ghastly cancer, which has grappled the very fibres of the human frame, and shot its poison through every vein, will not yield to lip-salve or rosewater.

On the sixth of November last, the people of the United States, acting in pursuance of the Constitution and laws, chose Abraham Lincoln President. Of course this choice was in every particular perfectly constitutional and legal. As such, it was entitled to the respect and acquiescence of every good citizen. It is vain to say that the candidate represented opinions obnoxious to a considerable section of the country, or that he was chosen by votes confined to a special section. It is enough that he was duly chosen. You cannot set aside or deny such an election, without assailing not only the whole framework of the Constitution, but also the primal principle of American institutions. You become a traitor at once to the existing government and to the very idea of popular rule. You snatch a principle from the red book of despotism, and openly substitute the cartridge-box for the ballot-box.

And yet scarcely had this intelligence flashed across the country before the mutterings of sedition and treason began to reach us from an opposite quarter. The Union was menaced; and here the first distinct voice came from South Carolina. A Senator from that State, one of the largest slaveholders of the country, and a most strenuous partisan of Slavery, [Mr. Hammond,] openly declared, in language not easily forgotten, that before the 18th of December South Carolina would be “out of the Union, high and dry and forever.” These words heralded the outbreak. With the pertinacity of demons its leaders pushed forward. Their avowed object was the dismemberment of the Republic, by detaching State after State, in order to found a Slaveholding Confederacy. And here the clearest utterance came from a late Representative of Georgia [Mr. Stephens], now Vice-President of the Rebel States, who did not hesitate to proclaim that “the foundations of the new government are laid upon the great truth, that Slavery, subordination to the superior race, is the negro’s natural and moral condition,”—that “it is the first government in the history of the world based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth,”—and that “the stone which was rejected by the first builders is in the new edifice become the chief stone of the corner.”[206] Here is a savage frankness, with insensibility to shame. The object avowed is hideous in every aspect, whether we regard it as treason to our paternal government, as treason to the idea of American institutions, or as treason to those commanding principles of economy, morals, and Christianity, without which civilization is no better than barbarism.

And now we stand front to front in deadly conflict with this double-headed, triple-headed treason. Beginning with those States most peculiarly interested in Slavery, and operating always with intensity proportioned to the prevalence of Slavery, it fastens upon other States less interested,—Tennessee, North Carolina, Virginia,—and with much difficulty is prevented from enveloping every State containing slaves, no matter how few: for such is the malignant poison of Slavery that only a few slaves constitute a Slave State with all the sympathies and animosities of Slavery. This is the Rebellion which I am to unmask. Bad as it is on its face, it becomes aggravated, when we consider its origin, and the agencies by which it is conducted. It is not merely a Rebellion, but it is a Rebellion begun in conspiracy; nor, in all history, ancient or modern, is there any record of conspiracy so vast and so wicked, ranging over such spaces both of time and territory, and forecasting such results. A conspiracy to seize a castle or to assassinate a prince is petty by the side of this enormous, protracted treason, where half a continent is seized, studded with castles, fortresses, and public edifices, where the Government itself is overthrown, and the President, on his way to the national capital, narrowly escapes most cruel assassination.

But no conspiracy could ripen such pernicious fruit, if not rooted in a soil of congenial malignity. To appreciate properly this influence, we must go back to the beginning of the Government.

South Carolina, which takes so forward a part in this treason, hesitated originally, as is well known, with regard to the Declaration of Independence. Once her vote was recorded against this act; and when it finally prevailed, her vote was given for it only formally and for the sake of seeming unanimity.[207] But so little was she inspired by the Declaration, that, in the contest which ensued, her commissioners made a proposition to the British commander which is properly characterized by an able historian as “equivalent to an offer from the State to return to its allegiance to the British crown.”[208] The hesitation with regard to the Declaration of Independence was renewed with regard to the National Constitution; and here it was shared by another State. Notoriously, both South Carolina and Georgia, which, with the States carved from their original territory, Alabama and Mississippi, constitute the chief seat of the conspiracy, hesitated in becoming parties to the Union, and stipulated expressly for recognition of the slave-trade in the National Constitution as an indispensable condition. In the Convention, Mr. Rutledge, of South Carolina, while opposing a tax on the importation of slaves, said: “The true question at present is, whether the Southern States shall or shall not be parties to the Union.” Mr. Pinckney, also of South Carolina, followed with the unblushing declaration: “South Carolina can never receive the plan [of the Constitution], if it prohibits the slave-trade.” I quote now from Mr. Madison’s authentic report of these important debates.[209] With shame let it be confessed, that, instead of repelling this disgraceful overture, our fathers submitted to it, and in that submission you find the beginning of present sorrows. The slave-trade, whose annual iniquity no tongue can tell, was placed for twenty years under safeguard of the Constitution, thus giving sanction, support, and increase to Slavery itself. The language is modest, but the intent was complete. South Carolina and Georgia were pacified, and took their places in the Union, to which they were openly bound only by a most hateful tie. Regrets for the past are not entirely useless, if out of them we get wisdom for the future, and learn to be brave. It is easy to see now, that, had the unnatural pretensions of these States been originally encountered by stern resistance worthy of an honest people, the present conspiracy would have been crushed before it saw the light. Its whole success, from its distant beginning down to this hour, has been from our timidity.

There was also another sentiment, of kindred perversity, which prevailed in the same quarter. This is vividly portrayed by John Adams, in a letter to General Gates, dated at Philadelphia, 23d March, 1776:—

And he proceeds to declare in strong language that “popular principles and axioms are abhorrent to the inclinations of the barons of the South.” This letter was written in the early days of the Revolution. At a later date John Adams testifies again to the discord between the North and the South, and refers particularly to the period after the National Constitution, saying: “The Northern and the Southern States were immovably fixed in opposition to each other.”[211] This was before any question of Tariff or Free Trade, and before the growing fortunes of the North had awakened Southern jealousy. The whole opposition had its root in Slavery,—as also had the earlier resistance to Republican Government.

In the face of these influences the Union was formed, but the seeds of conspiracy were latent in its bosom. The spirit already revealed was scarcely silenced; it was not destroyed. It still existed, rankling, festering, burning to make itself manifest. At the mention of Slavery it always appeared full-armed with barbarous pretensions. Even in the first Congress under the Constitution, at the presentation of that famous petition where Benjamin Franklin simply called upon Congress to step to the verge of its power to discourage every species of traffic in the persons of our fellow-men, this spirit broke forth in violent threats. With kindred lawlessness it early embraced that extravagant dogma of State Rights which has been ever since the convenient cloak of treason and conspiracy. At the Missouri Question, in 1820, it openly menaced dissolution of the Union. Instead of throttling the monster, we submitted to feed it with new concessions. Meanwhile the conspiracy grew, until, at last, in 1830, under the influence of Mr. Calhoun, it assumed the defiant front of Nullification; nor did it yield to the irresistible logic of Webster or the stern will of Jackson without a compromise. The pretended ground of complaint was the Tariff; but Andrew Jackson, himself a patriot Slaveholder, at that time President, saw the hollowness of the complaint. In a confidential letter, only recently brought to light, dated at Washington, May 1, 1833, and which during the last winter I had the honor of reading and holding up before the Senatorial conspirators in the original autograph, he says:—

Jackson was undoubtedly right; but the pretext which he denounced in advance was employed so constantly afterwards as to become threadbare. At the earliest presentation of Abolition petitions,—at the Texas Question,—at the Compromises of 1850,—at the Kansas Question,—at the possible election of Fremont,—on all these occasions, the Union was threatened by angry Slave-Masters.

The conspiracy is unblushingly confessed by recent parties to it. Especially was this done in the Rebel Convention of South Carolina, where, one after another, the witnesses testified all the same way.

Mr. Parker said: “Secession is no spasmodic effort that has come suddenly upon us. It has been gradually culminating for a long period of thirty years.”

Mr. Inglis followed: “Most of us have had this matter under consideration for the last twenty years.”

Mr. Keitt, Representative in Congress, gloried in his work, saying: “I have been engaged in this movement ever since I entered political life.”

Mr. Rhett, who was in the Senate when I first entered that body, and did not hesitate then to avow himself a Disunionist, declared in the same Convention: “It is not anything produced by Mr. Lincoln’s election, or by the non-execution of the Fugitive Slave Law: it is a matter which has been gathering head for thirty years.”[213]

The conspiracy, thus exposed by Jackson, and confessed by recent parties to it, was quickened by the growing passion for Slavery throughout the Slave States. The well-known opinions of the Fathers, the declared convictions of all most valued at the foundation of the Government, and the example of Washington were discarded, and it was recklessly avowed that Slavery is a divine institution, the highest type of civilization, a blessing to master and slave alike, and the very key-stone of our national arch. A generation has grown up with this teaching, so that it is now ready to say with Satan,—

It is natural that a people thus trained should listen to the voice of conspiracy. Slavery itself is a constant conspiracy; and its supporters, whether in the Slave States or elsewhere, easily become indifferent to all rights and principles by which it may be constrained.

This rage for Slavery was quickened by two influences, which have exhibited themselves since the formation of our Union,—one economical, and the other political. The first was the unexpected importance of the cotton crop, which, through the labor of slaves and the genius of a New England inventor, passed into an extraordinary element of wealth and of imagined strength, so that we have all been summoned to homage to cotton as king. The second was the temptation of political power, than which no influence is more potent,—for it became obvious that this could be assured to Slavery only through the permanent preponderance of its representatives in the Senate; so that the continued control of all offices and honors was made to depend upon the extension of Slavery. Thus, through two strong appetites, one for gain and the other for power, was Slavery stimulated; but the conspiracy was strong only through Slavery.

Even this conspiracy, thus supported and nurtured, would have been more wicked than strong, if it had not found perfidious aid in the very Cabinet of the President. The Secretary of the Treasury, a Slave-Master from Georgia, the Secretary of the Interior, a Slave-Master from Mississippi, the Secretary of War, the notorious Floyd, a Slave-Master from Virginia, and I fear also the Secretary of the Navy, who was a Northern man with Southern principles, lent their active exertions. Through these eminent functionaries the treason was organized and directed, while their important posts were prostituted to its infamy. Here again you see the extent of the conspiracy. Never before, in any country, was there a similar crime which embraced so many persons in the highest places of power, or took within its grasp so large a theatre of human action. Anticipating the election of Mr. Lincoln, the Cabinet conspirators prepared the way for rebellion.

First, the army of the United States was so far dispersed and exiled, that the commander-in-chief found it difficult, during the recent anxious winter, to bring together a thousand troops for the defence of the national capital, menaced by the conspirators.

Secondly, the navy was so far scattered or dismantled, that on the 4th of March, when the new Administration came into power, there were no ships to enforce the laws, collect the revenues, or protect the national property in the Rebel ports. Out of seventy-two vessels of war, counted as our navy, it appears that the whole available force at home was reduced to the steamer Brooklyn, carrying twenty-five guns, and the store-ship Relief, carrying two guns.

Thirdly, the forts on the extensive Southern coast were so far abandoned by the public force, that the larger part, counting upwards of 1,200 cannon, and built at a cost of more than six million dollars, became at once an easy prey to the Rebels.

Fourthly, national arms were transferred from Northern to Southern arsenals, so as to disarm the Free States and equip the Slave States. This was done on a large scale. Upwards of 115,000 arms, of the latest and most approved pattern, were transferred from the Springfield and Watervliet arsenals to different arsenals in the Slave States, where they were seized by the Rebels; and a quarter of a million percussion muskets were sold to various Slave States for $2.50 a musket, when they were worth, it is said, on an average, $12. Large quantities of cannon, mortars, powder, ball, and shell received the same direction.

Fifthly, the National Treasury, so recently prosperous beyond example, was disorganized and plundered even to the verge of bankruptcy. Upwards of six millions are supposed to have been stolen, and much of this treasure doubtless went to help the work of Rebellion.

Thus, even before its outbreak, the conspiracy contrived to degrade and despoil the Government, so as to secure free course for the projected rebellion. The story seems incredible. But it was not enough to disperse the army, to scatter the navy, to abandon forts, to disarm the Free States, and to rob the Treasury. The President of the United States, solemnly sworn to execute the laws, was won into a system of inactivity amounting to practical abdication of his great trust. He saw treason plotting to stab at the heart of his country, saw conspiracy, daily, hourly, putting on the harness of rebellion, but, though warned by the watchful general-in-chief, he did nothing to arrest it, standing always,

Ay, more; instead of instant lightnings, smiting and blasting in their fiery crash, which an indignant patriotism would have hurled, he nodded sympathy and acquiescence. No page of history is more melancholy, because nowhere do we find a ruler who so completely abandoned his country: not Charles the First in his tyranny, not Louis the Sixteenth in his weakness. Mr. Buchanan was advanced to power by Slave-Masters, who knew well that he could be used for Slavery. The Slaveholding conspirators were encouraged to sit in his Cabinet, where they doubly betrayed their country, first by evil counsels, and then by disclosing what passed to distant Slaveholding confederates. The sudden act of Major Anderson, in removing from Fort Moultrie to Fort Sumter, and the sympathetic response of an aroused people, compelled a change of policy, and the Rebellion received its first check. After painful struggle, it was decided at last that Fort Sumter should be maintained. It is difficult to exaggerate the importance of that decision, which, I believe, was due mainly to an eminent Democrat,—General Cass. This, at least, is true: it saved the national capital.

Meanwhile the conspiracy increased in activity, mastering State after State, gathering its forces and building its batteries. The time had come for the tragedy to begin. “At Nottingham,” says the great English historian, speaking of King Charles the First, “he erected his royal standard, the open signal of discord and civil war throughout the kingdom.”[215] The same open signal now came from Charleston, when the conspirators ran up the Rattle-Snake flag, and directed their wicked cannonade upon the small, half-famished garrison of Sumter.

Were this done in the name of Revolution, or by virtue of any revolutionary principle, it would assume a familiar character. But such is not the case. It is all done under pretence of constitutional right. The forms of the Constitution are seized by the conspirators, as they have already seized everything else, and wrested to the purposes of treason. It is audaciously declared, that, under the existing Constitution, each State, in the exercise of its own discretion, may withdraw from the Union; and this asserted right of secession is invoked as cover for Rebellion begun in conspiracy. The election of Mr. Lincoln is made the occasion for the exercise of this pretended right; certain opinions at the North on the subject of Slavery are made the pretext.

Who will not deny that this election can be a just occasion?

Who will not condemn the pretext?

But both occasion and pretext are determined by Slavery, and thus testify to the part it constantly performs.

The pretended right of secession is not less monstrous than the pretext or the occasion; and this, too, is born of Slavery. It belongs to that brood of assumptions and perversions of which Slavery is prolific parent. Wherever Slavery prevails, this pretended right is recognized, and generally with an intensity proportioned to the prevalence of Slavery,—as, for instance, in South Carolina and Mississippi more intensely than in Tennessee and Kentucky. It may be considered a fixed part of the slaveholding system. A pretended right to set aside the Constitution, to the extent of breaking up the Government, is the natural companion of the pretended right to set aside human nature, making merchandise of men. They form a well-matched couple, and travel well together,—destined to perish together. If we do not overflow toward the former with the same indignation which we feel for the latter, it is because its absurdity awakens our contempt. An English poet of the last century exclaims, in mocking verses,—

Such is the impossible contrivance now attempted. Nothing is clearer than that this pretension, if acknowledged, leaves to every State the right to play the “mad horse,” with very little chance of saving anything. It takes from the Government not merely unity, but all security of national life, and reduces it to the shadow of a name, or, at best, a mere tenancy at will,—an unsubstantial form, to be decomposed at the touch of a single State. Of course, such an anarchical pretension, so instinct with all the lawlessness of Slavery, must be encountered peremptorily. It is not enough to declare dissent. We must so conduct as not to give it recognition or foothold. [Applause.]

Instead of scouting this pretension, and utterly spurning it, new concessions to Slavery were gravely propounded as the means of pacification,—like a new sacrifice offered to an obscene divinity. It was argued, that in this way the Border States at least might be preserved to the Union, and some of the Cotton States perhaps won back to duty: in other words, that, in consideration of such concessions, these States would consent to waive a present exercise of the pretended right of secession. Against all such propositions, without considering their character, stands on the threshold one obvious and imperative objection. It is clear that the very bargain or understanding, whether express or implied, is a recognition of this pretended right, and that a State yielding only to such appeal, and detained through concessions, practically asserts the claim, and holds it for future exercise. Thus a concession called small becomes infinite; for it concedes the pretended right of secession, and makes the permanence of the National Government impossible. Amidst all the grave responsibilities of the hour, we must take care that the life of the Republic is sacredly preserved. But this would be sacrificed at once, did we submit its existence to the conditions proposed.

Looking at these concessions, I have always found them utterly unreasonable and indefensible. I should not expose them now, if they did not testify constantly to the Origin and Mainspring of this Rebellion. Slavery was always the single subject-matter, and nothing else. Slavery was not only an integral part of every concession, but the single integer. The one idea was to give some new security, in some form, to Slavery. That brilliant statesman, Mr. Canning, in one of those eloquent speeches which charm so much by style, said that he was “tired of being a security-grinder”; but his experience was not comparable to ours. “Security-grinding,” in the name of Slavery, has been for years the way in which we have wrestled with this conspiracy. [Laughter and applause.]

The propositions at the last Congress began with the President’s Message, which in itself was one tedious concession. You cannot forget his sympathetic portraiture of the disaffection throughout the Slave States, or his testimony to the cause. Notoriously and shamefully his heart was with the conspirators, and he knew intimately the mainspring of their conduct. He proposed nothing short of general surrender; and thus did he proclaim Slavery as the head and front, the very causa causans, of the whole crime.

Nor have you forgotten the Peace Conference, as it was delusively styled, convened at Washington on the summons of Virginia, with John Tyler in the chair, where New York, as well as Massachusetts, was represented by her ablest and most honored citizens. The sessions were with closed doors; but it is now known that throughout the proceedings, lasting for weeks, nothing was discussed but Slavery. And the propositions finally adopted by the Convention were confined to Slavery. Forbearing all detail, it will be enough to say that they undertook to provide positive protection for Slavery under the Constitution, with new sanction and immunity,—making it, notwithstanding the determination of our fathers, national instead of sectional; and even more, making it an essential and permanent part of our republican system. Slavery is sometimes deceitful, as at other times bold; and these propositions were still further offensive from their studied uncertainty, amounting to positive duplicity. At a moment when frankness was needed above all things, we were treated to phrases pregnant with doubt and controversy, and were gravely asked, in the name of Slavery, to embody them in the National Constitution.

There was another string of propositions much discussed during the last winter, which acquired the name of the venerable Senator from whom they came,—Mr. Crittenden, of Kentucky. These also related to Slavery, and nothing else. They were more obnoxious even than those from the Peace Conference. And yet there were petitioners from the North, even from Massachusetts, who prayed for this great surrender. Considering the character of these propositions,—that they sought to change the Constitution in a manner revolting to the moral sense, to foist into its very body the idea of property in man, to protect Slavery in all present territory south of 36° 30´, and to carry it into all territory hereafter acquired south of that line, and thus to make our beautiful Stars and Stripes in their southern march the flag of infamy,—considering that they provided new constitutional securities for Slavery in the national capital and in other places within the exclusive national jurisdiction, new constitutional securities for the transit of slaves from State to State, opening the way to a roll-call of slaves at the foot of Bunker Hill or the door of Faneuil Hall, and also the disfranchisement of nearly ten thousand of my fellow-citizens in Massachusetts, whose rights are fixed by the Constitution of that Commonwealth, drawn by John Adams,—considering these things, I felt at the time, and I still feel, that the best apology of these petitioners was that they were ignorant of their true character, and that in signing the petition they knew not what they did. But even in their ignorance they bore witness to Slavery, while the propositions were the familiar voice of Slavery, crying, “Give! give!”

There was another single proposition from still another quarter, but, like all the rest, it related exclusively to Slavery. It was to insert in the text of the Constitution a stipulation against any future amendment authorizing Congress to interfere with Slavery in the States. If you read this proposition, you will find it crude and ill-shaped,—a jargon of bad grammar, a jumble and hodge-podge of words,—harmonizing poorly with the accurate text of our Constitution. But even if tolerable in form, it was obnoxious, like the rest, as a fresh stipulation in favor of Slavery. Sufficient, surely, in this respect, is the actual Constitution. Beyond this I cannot I will not go. What Washington, Franklin, Madison, and Hamilton would not insert we cannot err in rejecting. [Applause.]

I do not dwell on other propositions, because they attracted less attention; and yet among these was one to overturn the glorious safeguards of Freedom set up in the Free States, known as the Personal Liberty Laws. Here again was Slavery—with a vengeance.

There is one remark which I desire to make with regard to all these propositions. It was sometimes said that the concessions they offered were “small.” What a mistake is this! No concession to Slavery can be “small.” Freedom is priceless, and in this simple rule alike of morals and jurisprudence you find the just measure of any concession, how small soever it may seem, by which Freedom is sacrificed. Tell me not that it concerns a few only. I do not forget the saying of Antiquity, that the best government is where an injury to a single individual is resented as an injury to the whole State; nor am I indifferent to that memorable instance of our own recent history, where, in a distant sea, the thunders of our navy, with all the hazards of war, were aroused to protect the liberty of a solitary person claiming the rights of an American citizen. By such examples let me be guided, rather than by the suggestion, that Human Freedom, whether in many or in few, is of so little value that it may be put in the market to appease a traitorous conspiracy, or soothe accessories, who, without such concession, threaten to join the conspirators.

Warnings of the past, like the suggestions of reason and of conscience, were all against concession. Timid counsels always are an encouragement to sedition and rebellion. If the glove be of velvet, the hand must be of iron. An eminent master of thought, in some of his most vivid words, has bravely said,—

These are the words of Archbishop Whately, in his annotation to an Essay of Bacon,—and how applicable to our times, when it is so often proposed to salve the sword of Secession!

In the same spirit spoke the most shining practical statesman of English history, Mr. Fox.

Pardon me, if I express regret, profound and heartfelt, that the pretensions of Slavery, whether in claim of privilege or in doctrine of secession, were not always encountered boldly and austerely. Alas! it is ourselves that have encouraged the conspiracy, and made it strong. Secession has become possible only through long continued concession. In proposing concession we encourage secession, and while professing to uphold the Union, we betray it. It is now beyond question that the concessionists of the North have from the beginning played into the hands of the secessionists of the South. I do not speak in harshness, or even in criticism, but simply according to my duty, in unfolding historically the agencies, conscious and unconscious, at work, while I hold them up as a warning for the future. They all testify to Slavery, which from earliest days has been at the bottom of the conspiracy, and also at every stage of the efforts to arrest it. It was Slavery which fired the conspirators, and Slavery also which entered into every proposition of compromise. Secession and concession both had their root in Slavery.

And now, after this review, I am brought again to the significance of that Presidential election with which I began. The Slave-Masters entered into that election with Mr. Breckinridge as their candidate, and their platform claimed constitutional protection for Slavery in all territories, whether now belonging to the Republic or hereafter acquired. This concession was the ultimatum on which was staked their continued loyalty to the Union,—as the continuance of the Slave-Trade was the original condition on which South Carolina and Georgia entered the Union. And the reason, though criminal, was obvious. It was because without such opportunity of expansion Slavery would be stationary, while the Free States, increasing in number, would obtain a fixed preponderance in the National Government, assuring to them the political power. Thus at that election the banner of the Slave-Masters had for open device, not the Union as it is, but the extension and perpetuation of human bondage. The popular vote was against further concession, and the conspirators proceeded with their crime. The occasion so long sought had come. The pretext foreseen by Andrew Jackson was the motive power.

Here mark well, that, in their whole conduct, the conspirators acted naturally, under instincts implanted by Slavery; nay, they acted logically even. Such is Slavery, that it cannot exist, unless it owns the Government. An injustice so plain can find protection only from a Government which is a reflection of itself. Cannibalism cannot exist except under a government of cannibals. Idolatry cannot exist except under a government of idolaters. And Slavery cannot exist except under a government of Slave-Masters. This is positive, universal truth,—at St. Petersburg, Constantinople, Timbuctoo, or Washington. The Slave-Masters of our country saw that they were dislodged from the National Government, and straightway they rebelled. The Republic, which they could no longer rule, they determined to ruin. And now the issue is joined. Slavery must either rule or die.

Though thus audaciously criminal, the Slave-Masters are not strong in numbers. The whole number, great and small, according to the recent census, is not more than four hundred thousand,—of whom there are less than one hundred thousand interested to any considerable extent in this peculiar species of property.[219] And yet this petty oligarchy—itself controlled by a squad still more petty—in a population of many millions, has aroused and organized this gigantic rebellion. But success is explained by two considerations. First, the asserted value of the slaves, reaching at this date to the enormous sum-total of two thousand millions of dollars, constitutes an overpowering property interest, one of the largest in the world,—greatly increased by the intensity and unity of purpose naturally belonging to the representatives of such a sum-total, stimulated by the questionable character of the property. But, secondly, it is a phenomenon attested by the history of revolutions, that all such movements, at least in their early days, are controlled by minorities. This is because a revolutionary minority, once embarked, has before it only the single, simple path of unhesitating action. While others doubt or hold back, the minority strikes and goes forward. Audacity then counts more than numbers, and crime counts more than virtue. This phenomenon has been observed before. “Often have I reflected with awe,” says Coleridge, “on the great and disproportionate power which an individual of no extraordinary talents or attainments may exert by merely throwing off all restraint of conscience.… The abandonment of all principle of right enables the soul to choose and act upon a principle of wrong, and to subordinate to this one principle all the various vices of human nature.”[220] These are remarkable and most suggestive words. But when was a “principle of wrong” followed with more devotion than by our Rebels?

The French Revolution furnishes authentic illustration of a few predominating over a great change. Among the good men at that time who followed “principle of right” were others with whom success was the primary object, while even good men sometimes forgot goodness; but at each stage a minority gave the law. Pétion, the famous mayor of Paris, boasted, that, when he began, “there were but five men in France who wished a Republic.”[221] From a contemporary debate in the British Parliament, it appears that the asserted power of a minority was made the express ground of appeal by French revolutionists to the people of other countries. Sheridan, in a brilliant speech, dwells on this appeal, and by mistake ascribes to Condorcet the unequivocal utterances, that “revolutions must always be the work of the minority,”—that “every revolution is the work of a minority,”—that “the French Revolution was accomplished by the minority.”[222] This philosopher, who sealed his principles by a tragical death, did say, in an address to the Parliamentary Reformers of England, that from Parliamentary reform “the passage to the complete establishment of a republic would be short and easy”;[223] but it was Cambon, the financier of the Revolution, and one of its active supporters, who, in the National Convention, put forth the cries attributed to Condorcet.[224] The part of the minority was also attested by Brissot de Warville, who imputed the triumph of the Jacobins, under whose bloody sway his own life became a sacrifice, to “some twenty men,” or, as he says in another place, “a score of anarchists,” and then again, “a club, or rather a score of those robbers who direct that club.”[225]

The future historian will record, that the present rebellion, notwithstanding its protracted origin, the multitudes it enlisted, and its extensive sweep, was at last precipitated by fewer than twenty men,—Mr. Everett says by as few as eight or ten.[226] It is certain that thus far it has been the triumph of a minority,—but of a minority moved, inspired, combined, and aggrandized by Slavery.

And now this traitorous minority, putting aside the sneaking, slimy devices of conspiracy, steps forth in full panoply of war. Assuming all functions of government, it organizes States under a common head,—sends ambassadors into foreign countries,—levies taxes,—borrows money,—issues letters of marque,—and sets armies in the field, summoned from distant Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas, as well as from nearer Virginia, and composed of the whole lawless population, the poor who cannot own slaves as well as the rich who pretend to own them, throughout the extensive region where with Satanic grasp this Slave-Master minority claims for itself

Pardon the language I employ. The words of the poet picture not too strongly the object proposed. And now these parricidal hosts stand arrayed against that paternal Government to which they owe loyalty, defence, and affection. Never in history did rebellion assume such front. Call their number 400,000 or 200,000,—what you will,—they far surpass any armed forces ever before marshalled in rebellion; they are among the largest ever marshalled in war.

All this is in the name of Slavery, and for the sake of Slavery, and at the bidding of Slavery. The profligate favorite of the English monarch, the famous Duke of Buckingham, was not more exclusively supreme, even according to the words by which he was placarded to the judgment of his contemporaries:—

Nor according to that decree by which the House of Commons declared him “the cause of all the national calamities.” The dominant part of the royal favorite belongs now to Slavery, which is the cause of all the national calamities, while in the Rebel States it is a more than royal favorite.

The last question I need not answer. But all must see—and nobody will deny—that Slavery is the ruling idea of this Rebellion. It is Slavery that marshals these hosts and breathes into their embattled ranks its own barbarous fire. It is Slavery that stamps its character alike upon officers and men. It is Slavery that inspires all, from General to trumpeter. It is Slavery that speaks in the word of command, and sounds in the morning drum-beat. It is Slavery that digs trenches and builds hostile forts. It is Slavery that pitches its wicked tents and stations its sentries over against the national capital. It is Slavery that sharpens the bayonet and runs the bullet,—that points the cannon, and scatters the shell, blazing, bursting with death. Wherever this Rebellion shows itself, whatever form it takes, whatever thing it does, whatever it meditates, it is moved by Slavery; nay, the Rebellion is Slavery itself, incarnate, living, acting, raging, robbing, murdering, according to the essential law of its being. [Applause.]

Not this is all. The Rebellion is not only ruled by Slavery, but, owing to the peculiar condition of the Slave States, it is for the moment, according to their instinctive boast, actually reinforced by this institution. As the fields of the South are cultivated by slaves, and labor there is performed by this class, the white freemen are at liberty to play the part of rebels. The slaves toil at home, while the masters work at rebellion; and thus, by singular fatality, is this doomed race, without taking up arms, actually engaged in feeding, supporting, succoring, invigorating those battling for their enslavement. Full well I know that this is an element of strength only through the forbearance of our own Government; but I speak of things as they are; and that I may not seem to go too far, I ask attention to the testimony of a Southern journal.

As the Rebels have already confessed the conspiracy which led to the Rebellion, so in this article do they openly confess the mainspring of their power. With triumphant vaunt, they declare Slavery the special source of their belligerent strength.

But Slavery must be seen not only in what it does for the Rebellion, of which it is indisputable head, fountain, and life, but also in what it inflicts upon us. There is not a community, not a family, not an individual, man, woman, or child, that does not feel its heavy, bloody hand. Why these mustering armies? Why this drum-beat in your peaceful streets? Why these gathering means of war? Why these swelling taxes? Why these unprecedented loans? Why this derangement of business? Why among us Habeas Corpus suspended, and all safeguards of Freedom prostrate? Why this constant solicitude visible in your faces? The answer is clear. Slavery is author, agent, cause. The anxious hours that you pass are darkened by Slavery. Habeas Corpus and the safeguards of Freedom which you deplore are ravished by Slavery. The business you have lost is filched by Slavery. The millions now amassed by patriotic offerings are all snatched by Slavery. The taxes now wrung out of diminished means are all consumed by Slavery. And all these multiplying means of war, this drum-call in your peaceful streets and these gathering armies, are on account of Slavery, and that alone. Are the poor constrained to forego their customary tea, or coffee, or sugar, now burdened by intolerable taxation? Let them vow themselves anew against the criminal giant tax-gatherer. Does any community mourn gallant men, who, going forth joyous and proud beneath their country’s flag, have been brought home cold and stiff, with its folds wrapped about them for a shroud? Let all mourning the patriot dead be aroused against Slavery. Does a mother drop tears for her son in the beautiful morning of his days cut down upon the distant battle-field, which he moistens with his youthful, generous blood? Let her feel that Slavery dealt the deadly blow which took at once his life and her peace. [Sensation.]

I hear a strange, discordant voice saying that all this proceeds not from Slavery,—oh, no!—but from Antislavery,—that the Republicans, who hate Slavery, that the Abolitionists, are authors of this terrible calamity. You must suspect the sense or loyalty of him who puts forth this irrational and utterly wicked imputation. As well say that the early Christians were authors of the heathen enormities against which they bore martyr testimony, and that the cross, the axe, the gridiron, and the boiling oil, by which they suffered, were part of the Christian dispensation. But the early Christians were misrepresented and falsely charged with crime, even as you are. The tyrant Nero, after burning Rome and dancing at the conflagration, denounced Christians as the guilty authors. Here are authentic words by the historian Tacitus.

The writer of this remarkable passage was the wisest and most penetrating mind of his generation, and he lived close upon the events which he describes. Listening to him, you may find apology for those among us who heap upon contemporaries similar obloquy. Abolitionists need no defence from me. It is to their praise—destined to fill an immortal page—that from the beginning they saw the true character of Slavery, and warned against its threatening domination. Through them the fires of Liberty have been kept alive in our country,—as Hume is constrained to confess that these same fires were kept alive in England by the Puritans, whom this great historian never praised, if he could help it. And yet they are charged with this Rebellion. Can this be serious? Even at the beginning of the Republic the seeds of the conspiracy were planted, and in 1820, and again in 1830, it appeared,—while nearly thirty years ago Andrew Jackson denounced it, and one of its leading spirits recently boasted that it has been gathering head for this full time, thus, not only in distant embryo, but in well-attested development, antedating those Abolitionists whose prophetic patriotism is made an apology for the crime. As well, when the prudent passenger warns the ship’s crew of the fatal lee-shore, arraign him for the wreck which engulfs all; as well cry out, that the philosopher who foresees the storm is responsible for the desolation that ensues, or that the astronomer, who calculates the eclipse, is author of the darkness which covers the earth. [Enthusiastic applause.]

Nothing can surpass that early contumely to which Christians were exposed. To the polite heathen, they were only “workers in wool, cobblers, fullers, the rudest and most illiterate persons,”[229] or they were men and women “from the lowest dregs.”[230] Persecution naturally followed, not only local, but general. As many as ten persecutions are cited,—two under mild rulers like Trajan and Hadrian,—while, at the atrocious command of Nero, Christians, wrapped in pitch, were set on fire as lights to illumine the public gardens. And yet against contumely and persecution Christianity prevailed, and the name of Christian became an honor which confessors and martyrs wore as a crown. But this painful history prefigures that of our Abolitionists, who have been treated with similar contumely; nor have they escaped persecution. At last the time has come when their cause must prevail, and their name become an honor.

And now, that I may give practical character to this whole history, I bring it all to bear upon our present situation and its duties. You have discerned Slavery, even before the National Union, not only a disturbing influence, but an actual bar to Union, except on condition of surrender to its immoral behests. You have watched Slavery constantly militant on the presentation of any proposition with regard to it, and more than once threatening dissolution of the Union. You have discovered Slavery for many years the animating principle of a conspiracy against the Union, while it matured flagitious plans and obtained the mastery of Cabinet and President. And when the conspiracy had balefully ripened, you have seen how only by concessions to Slavery it was encountered, as by similar concessions it had from the beginning been encouraged. Now you behold Rebellion everywhere throughout the Slave States elevating its bloody crest and threatening the existence of the National Government, and all in the name of Slavery, while it sets up a pretended Government whose corner-stone is Slavery. [Hisses, and cries of “Never!”]

Against this Rebellion we wage war. It is our determination, as it is our duty, to crush it; and this will be done. Nor am I disturbed by any success which the Rebels may seem to obtain. The ancient Roman, who, confident in the destiny of the Republic, bought the field on which the conquering Hannibal was encamped, is a fit example for us. I would not have less trust than his. The Rebel States are our fields. The region now contested by the Rebels belongs to the United States by every tie of government and of right. Some of it has been bought with our money, while all of it, with its rivers, harbors, and extensive coast, has become essential to our business in peace and to our defence in war. Union is a geographical, economical, commercial, political, military, and (if I may so say) even a fluvial necessity. Without union, peace on this continent is impossible; but life without peace is impossible also.

Only by crushing this Rebellion can union and peace be restored. Let this be seen in its reality, and who can hesitate? If this were done instantly, without further contest, then, besides all the countless advantages of every kind obtained by such restoration, two special goods will be accomplished,—one political, and the other moral as well as political. First, the pretended right of secession, with the whole pestilent extravagance of State sovereignty, supplying the machinery for this Rebellion, and affording a delusive cover for treason, will be trampled out, never again to disturb the majestic unity of the Republic; and, secondly, the unrighteous attempt to organize a new confederacy, solely for the sake of Slavery, and with Slavery as its corner-stone, will be overthrown. These two pretensions, one so shocking to our reason and the other so shocking to our moral nature, will disappear forever. And with their disappearance will date a new epoch, the beginning of a grander age. If by any accident the Rebellion should prevail, then, just in proportion to its triumph, through concession on our part or successful force on the other part, will the Union be impaired and peace be impossible. Therefore in the name of the Union and for the sake of peace are you summoned to the work.

But how shall the Rebellion be crushed? That is the question. Men, money, munitions of war, a well-supplied commissariat, means of transportation,—all these you have in abundance, in some particulars beyond the Rebels. You have, too, the consciousness of a good cause, which in itself is an army. And yet thus far, until within a few days, the advantage has not been on our side. The explanation is easy. The Rebels are combating at home, on their own soil, strengthened and maddened by Slavery, which is to them ally and fanaticism. More thoroughly aroused than ourselves, more terribly in earnest, with every sinew vindictively strained to its most perfect work, they freely use all the means that circumstances put into their hands,—not only raising against us their white population, but fellowshipping the savagery of the Indian, cruising upon the sea in pirate ships to despoil our commerce, and at one swoop confiscating our property to the amount of hundreds of millions, while all this time their four million slaves undisturbed at home freely contribute by their labor to sustain the war, which without them must soon expire.

It remains for us to encounter the Rebellion calmly and surely by a force superior to its own. To this end, something more is needed than men or money. Our battalions must be reinforced by ideas, and we must strike directly at the Origin and Mainspring. I do not say now in what way or to what extent, but only that we must strike: it may be by the system of a Massachusetts General,—Butler; it may be by that of Fremont [here the audience rose and gave long continued cheers]; or it may be by the grander system of John Quincy Adams. Reason and sentiment both concur in this policy, which is according to the most common principles of human conduct. In no way can we do so much at so little cost. To the enemy such a blow will be a terror, to good men it will be an encouragement, and to foreign nations watching this contest it will be an earnest of something beyond a mere carnival of battle. There has been the cry, “On to Richmond!” and still another worse cry, “On to England!” Better than either is the cry, “On to Freedom!”[231] [Tremendous cheering.] Let this be heard in the voices of our soldiers, ay, let it resound in the purposes of the Government, and victory must be near.

With no little happiness I make known that this cry begins at last to be adopted. It is in the instructions from the Secretary of War, dated War Department, October 14, 1861, and addressed to the General commanding the forces about to embark for South Carolina. Here are the important words.

This is not the positive form of proclamation; but analyze the words, and you will find them full of meaning. First, Martial Law is declared; for the powers committed to the discretion of the General are derived from that law, and not from the late Confiscation Act of Congress. Secondly, fugitive slaves are not to be surrendered. Thirdly, all coming within the camp are to be treated as freemen. Fourthly, they may be employed in such service as they are fitted for. Fifthly, in squads, companies, or otherwise, with the single slight limitation that this is not to mean “a general arming of them for military service.” And, sixthly, compensation, through Congress, is promised to loyal masters,—saying nothing of Rebel masters. All this falls little short of a Proclamation of Emancipation,—not unlike that of old Caius Marius, when, landing on the coast of Etruria, according to Plutarch, he proclaimed liberty to the slaves. As such, I do not err, when I call it, thus far, the most important event of the war,—more important because understood to have the deliberate sanction of the President as well as of the Secretary, and therefore marking the policy of the Administration. That this policy should be first applied to South Carolina is just. As the great Rebellion began in this State, so should the great remedy. [Applause and cheers.]

Slavery is the inveterate culprit, the transcendent criminal, the persevering traitor, the wicked parricide, the arch rebel, the open outlaw. As the less is contained in the greater, so the Rebellion is all contained in Slavery. The tenderness which you show to Slavery is, therefore, indulgence to the Rebellion itself. [Applause.] The pious caution with which you avoid harming Slavery exceeds that ancient superstition which made the wolf sacred among the Romans and the crocodile sacred among the Egyptians; nor shall I hesitate to declare that every surrender of a slave back to bondage is an offering of human sacrifice, whose shame is too great for any army to bear. That men should hesitate to strike at Slavery is only another illustration of human weakness. The English Republicans, in bloody contest with the Crown, hesitated for a long time to fire upon the King; but under the valiant lead of Cromwell, surrounded by his well-trained Ironsides, they banished all such scruple, and you know the result. The King was not shot, but his head was brought to the block.

The duty which I announce, if not urgent now, as a MILITARY NECESSITY, in just self-defence, will present itself constantly, as our armies advance in the Slave States or land on their coasts. If it does not stare us in the face at this moment, it is because unhappily we are still everywhere on the defensive. As we begin to be successful, it must rise before us for practical decision; and we cannot avoid it. There will be slaves in our camps, or within our extended lines, whose condition we must determine. There will be slaves also claimed by Rebels, whose continued chattelhood we should scorn to recognize. The decision of these two cases will settle the whole great question. Nor can the Rebels complain. They challenge our armies to enter upon their territory in the free exercise of all the powers of war,—according to which, as you well know, all private interests are subordinated to the public safety, which, for the time, becomes the supreme law above all other laws and above the Constitution itself. If everywhere under the flag of the Union, in its triumphant march, Freedom is substituted for Slavery, this outrageous Rebellion will not be the first instance in history where God has turned the wickedness of man into a blessing; nor will the example of Samson stand alone, when he gathered honey from the carcass of the dead and rotten lion. [Cheers.]

Pardon me, if I speak in hints only, and do not stop to argue or explain. Not now, at the close of an evening devoted to the Rebellion in its Origin and Mainspring, can I enter upon this great question of military duty in its details. There is another place where this discussion will be open for me.[233] [Cheers.] It is enough now, if I indicate the simple principle which is the natural guide of all really in earnest, of all whose desire to save their country is stronger than the desire to save Slavery. You will strike where the blow is most felt; nor will you miss the precious opportunity. The enemy is before you, nay, he comes out in ostentatious challenge, and his name is Slavery. You can vindicate the Union only by his prostration. Slavery is the very Goliath of the Rebellion, armed with coat of mail, with helmet of brass upon the head, greaves of brass upon the legs, target of brass between the shoulders, and with the staff of his spear like a weaver’s beam. But a stone from a simple sling will make the giant fall upon his face to the earth. [Prolonged cheering.]

Thank God, our Government is strong; but thus far all signs denote that it is not strong enough to save the Union, and at the same time save Slavery. One or the other must suffer; and just in proportion as you reach forth to protect Slavery do you protect this accursed Rebellion, nay, you give to it that very aid and comfort which are the constitutional synonym for treason itself. Perversely and pitifully do you postpone that sure period of reconciliation, not only between the two sections, not only between the men of the North and the men of the South, but, more necessary still, between slave and master, without which the true tranquillity we all seek cannot be permanently assured. Believe it, only through such reconciliation, under sanction of Freedom, can you remove all occasion of conflict hereafter; only in this way can you cut off the head of this great Hydra, and at the same time extirpate that principle of evil, which, if allowed to remain, must shoot forth in perpetual discord, if not in other rebellions; only in this way can you command that safe victory, without which this contest is vain, which will have among its conquests Indemnity for the Past and Security for the Future,—the noblest indemnity and the strongest security ever won, because founded in the redemption of race. [Cheers.]

Full well I know the doubts, cavils, and misrepresentations to which this argument for the integrity of the nation is exposed; but I turn with confidence to the people. The heart of the people is right, and all great thoughts come from the heart. All hating Slavery and true to Freedom will join in effort, paying with person, time, talent, purse. They are our minute-men, always ready,—and yet more ready just in proportion as the war is truly inspired. They, at least, are sure. It remains that others not sharing this animosity, merchants who study their ledgers, bankers who study their discounts, and politicians who study success, should see that only by prompt and united effort against Slavery can the war be brought to a speedy and triumphant close, without which, merchant, banker, and politician all suffer alike. Ledger, discount, and political aspiration will have small value, if the war continues its lava flood, shrivelling and stifling everything but itself. Therefore, under spur of self-interest, if not under the necessities of self-defence, we must act together. Humanity, too, joins in this appeal. Blood enough has been shed, victims enough have bled at the altar, even if you are willing to lavish upon Slavery the tribute now paying of more than a million dollars a day.

Events, too, under Providence, are our masters. For the Rebels there can be no success. For them every road leads to disaster. For them defeat is bad, but victory worse; for then will the North be inspired to sublimer energy. The proposal of Emancipation which shook ancient Athens followed close upon the disaster at Chæronea; and the statesman who moved it vindicated himself by saying that it proceeded not from him, but from Chæronea[234]. The triumph of Hannibal at Cannæ drove the Roman Republic to the enlistment and enfranchisement of eight thousand slaves[235]. Such is history, which we are now repeating. The recent Act of Congress giving freedom to slaves employed against us, familiarly known as the Confiscation Act, passed the Senate on the morning after the disaster at Manassas[236]. In the providence of God there are no accidents; and this seeming reverse helped to the greatest victory which can be won.

Do not forget, I pray you, that classical story of the mighty hunter whose life in the Book of Fate was made to depend upon the existence of a brand burning at his birth. The brand, so full of destiny, was snatched from the flames and carefully preserved by his prudent mother. Meanwhile the hunter became powerful and invulnerable to mortal weapon. But at length the mother, indignant at his cruelty to her own family, flung the brand upon the flames and the hunter died. The life of Meleager, so powerful and invulnerable to mortal weapon, is now revived in this Rebellion, and Slavery is the fatal brand. Let the National Government, whose maternal care is still continued to Slavery, simply throw the thing upon the flames madly kindled by itself, and the Rebellion will die at once. [Sensation.]

Amidst all surrounding perils there is one only which I dread. It is the peril from some new surrender to Slavery, some fresh recognition of its power, some present dalliance with its intolerable pretensions. Worse than any defeat, or even the flight of an army, would be this abandonment of principle. From all such peril, good Lord, deliver us! And there is one way of safety, clear as sunlight, pleasant as the paths of Peace. Over its broad and open gate is written JUSTICE. In that little word is victory. Do justice and you will be twice victors; for so will you subdue the Rebel master, while you elevate the slave. Do justice frankly, generously, nobly, and you will find strength instead of weakness, while all seeming responsibility disappears in obedience to God’s eternal law. Do justice, though the heavens fall. But they will not fall. Every act of justice becomes a new pillar of the Universe, or it may be a new link of that

Remarks in the Senate, on a Military Order in Missouri, December 4, 1861.

MR. PRESIDENT,—My attention has been called, by letter from St. Louis, to certain General Orders purporting to be by Major-General Halleck, in command of the Department of Missouri, relating to fugitive slaves, wherein it is directed that such persons shall not be received within his camps, or within the lines of his forces when on march, and that any such persons now within such lines shall be thrust out; and the reason strangely assigned for this order is, that such fugitive slaves will carry information to the Rebels.

It is difficult to speak of an order like this, and keep within bounds. Beside being irrational and inhuman on its face, it practically authorizes the surrender of fugitive slaves beyond any constitutional obligation. Such an order must naturally be disheartening to our soldiers, and it gives a bad name to our country, both at home and abroad.

General Halleck is reported to be a good tactician; but an act like this, with which he chooses to inaugurate his command, does not give assurance of great success hereafter. He may be expert in details of military science; but something more is needed now. Common sympathy, common humanity, and common sense must prevail in the conduct of this war. I take the liberty of saying—and I wish that my words may reach his distant head-quarters—that every fugitive slave he surrenders will hereafter rise in judgment against him with a shame which no possible victory can remove.

Remarks in the Senate, on a Resolution for the Discharge of Fugitive Slaves from the Washington Jail, December 4, 1861.

MR. PRESIDENT,—The Senator from Maine [Mr. Fessenden] has pointed to abuses of the judiciary in this District, and he insists that at last we shall have decent men on the bench. But that is not going far enough, Sir. Something more is needed. We must have decent laws. A Black Code still prevails in this District, imported from the old legislation of Maryland, which is a shame to the civilization of our age. If any one wishes to know why such abuses exist in prisons and in courts as have been so eloquently portrayed, I refer him to that Black Code. There you will find apology for every outrage. If, therefore, Senators are really in earnest, if they are determined that the national capital shall be purified, that the administration of justice here shall be worthy of a civilized community, they must expunge that Black Code from the statute-book: but to do this is to expunge Slavery itself; and here we are brought precisely to the point.

Senators mistake, if they treat this question merely on the outside. They must penetrate its interior. Why is that prison so offensive as I know it to be?—for it has been my fortune to visit it repeatedly. It is on account of Slavery, with the Black Code, which is its offspring. Why is justice so offensively administered in this District? It is on account of those brutal sentiments generated by Slavery, and manifested in the Black Code, which the courts here but enforce.

I listened with gratitude to my distinguished friend from New Hampshire [Mr. Hale], when he reviewed this subject, and announced that he would soon bring in a bill to remove the evil. He did not tell us what the bill would be; but the Senator is apt to be thorough. I doubt not that he understands the case; but I am sure, that, to meet it, he must deal directly with Slavery, the fountain and origin of all the noisome inhumanity exposed before us to-day.

Speech in the Senate, on the Death of Hon. Kinsley S. Bingham, late Senator of Michigan, December 10, 1861.

MR. PRESIDENT,—There are Senators who knew Mr. Bingham well, while he was a member of the other House. I knew him well only when he became a member of this body. Our seats here were side by side, and, as he was constant in attendance, I saw him daily. Our acquaintance soon became friendship, quickened by common sympathies, and confirmed by that bond which, according to the ancient orator, is found in the eadem de Republica sensisse.[240] In his death I have lost a friend; but the sorrow of friendship is deepened, when I think of loss to the country.

If he did not impress at once by personal appearance or voice or manner, yet all these, as they became familiar, testified continually to the unaffected simplicity and integrity of his character. His life, so far as not given to his country, was devoted to the labors of agriculture. He was a farmer, and, amidst all the temptations of an eminent public career, never abandoned this vocation, which does so much to strengthen both body and soul. More than merchant, manufacturer, or lawyer, the agriculturist is independent in condition. To him the sun and rain and the ever-varying seasons are agents of prosperity. Dependent upon Nature, he learns to be independent of men. Such a person, thus endowed, easily turns from the behest of party to follow those guiding principles which are kindred to the laws of Nature. Of such a character our friend was a beautiful example.

In him all the private virtues commingled. Truthful and frank, he was full of gentleness and generous sympathy. He had risen from humble fortunes, and his heart throbbed warmly for all who suffered in any way. Especially was he aroused against wrong and injustice, wherever they appeared, and then his softer sentiments were changed into an indomitable firmness,—showing that he was one of those admirable natures where

It was this character which gave elevation to his public life. Though companions about him hesitated, though great men on whom he had leaned apostatized, he stood sure and true always for the Right. Such a person was naturally enlisted against Slavery. His virtuous soul recoiled from this many-headed Barbarism, entering into and possessing the National Government. His political philosophy was simply moral philosophy applied to public affairs. Slavery was wrong; therefore he was against it, wherever he could justly reach it. No matter what form it took,—whether of pretension or blandishment,—whether, like Satan, stalking lordly, or sitting squat like a toad,—whether, like Mephistopheles, cozening cunningly, or lurking like a poodle,—whether, like Asmodeus, inquisitorial even to lifting the roofs of the whole country,—he was never deceived, but saw it always, in all its various manifestations, as the Spirit of Evil, and was its constant enemy. And now, among the signs that Freedom has truly triumphed, is the fact that here, in this Chamber, so long the stronghold of Slavery, our homage can be freely offered to one who so fearlessly opposed it.

There was something in our modest friend which seemed peculiarly adapted to private life. Had he not been a public man, he would have been, in his own rural neighborhood, at home, the good citizen, active and positive for human improvement, with an honored place in that list whose praise Clarkson pronounces so authoritatively. “I have had occasion,” says this philanthropist, “to know many thousand persons in the course of my travels, and I can truly say that the part which these took on this great question [of the Abolition of the Slave-Trade] was always a true criterion of their moral character.”[241] But he was not allowed to continue in retirement. His country had need of him, and he became a member of the Michigan Legislature and Speaker of its House, Representative in Congress, Governor, and then Senator of the United States. This distinguished career was stamped always with the plainness of his character. The Roman Cato was not more plain or determined. He came into public life when Compromise was the order of the day, but he never yielded to it. He was a member of the Democratic party, which was the declared tool of Slavery, but he never allowed Slavery to make a tool of him. All this should now be spoken in his honor. To omit it on this occasion would be to forget those titles by which hereafter he will be most gratefully remembered.

There were two important questions, while he was a member of the other House, on which his name is recorded for Freedom. The first was the famous proposition introduced by Mr. Wilmot, of Pennsylvania, for the prohibition of Slavery in the Territories. On this question he separated from his party, and courageously voted in the affirmative. Had his voice at that time prevailed, Slavery would have been checked, and the vast Conspiracy under which we now suffer would have received an early death-blow. The other question on which his record is so honorable was the Fugitive Slave Bill. There his name is found among the noes, in generous fellowship with Preston King among the living, and Horace Mann among the dead.

From that time forward his influence for Freedom was felt in his own State, and when, at a later day, he entered the Senate, he became known instantly as one of our surest and most faithful Senators, whose inflexible constancy was more eloquent than a speech. During all recent trials he never for one moment wavered. With the instincts of an honest statesman, he saw the situation, and accepted frankly and bravely the responsibilities of the hour. He set his face against concession in any degree and in every form. The time had come when Slavery was to be met, and he was ready. As the Rebellion assumed its warlike proportions, his perception of our duties was none the less clear. In his mind, Slavery was not only the origin, but vital part of the Rebellion, and therefore to be attacked. Slavery was also the mainspring of the belligerent power now arrayed against the Union,—therefore, in the name of the Union, to be destroyed. While valuing the military arm as essential, he saw that without courageous counsels it would be feeble. The function of the statesman is higher than that of general; and our departed Senator saw that on the counsels of the Government, even more than on its armies, rested the great responsibility of bringing this war to a speedy and triumphant close. Armies obey orders, but it is for the Government to organize and to inspire victory. All this he saw clearly; and he longed impatiently for that voice, herald of Union and Peace, which, in behalf of a violated Constitution, and in the exercise of a just self-defence, should change the present contest from a bloody folly into a sure stage of Human Improvement and an immortal landmark of Civilization.

Such a Senator can be ill spared at this hour. His cheerful confidence, his genuine courage, his practical instinct, his simple presence, would help the great events now preparing, nay, which are at hand. Happily he survives in noble example, and speaks even from the tomb. By all who have shared his counsels he will ever be truly remembered, while the State which trusted him so often in life, and the neighbors who knew him so well in his daily walks, will cherish his memory with affectionate pride. Marble and bronze are not needed. If not enough for glory, he has done too much to be forgotten; and hereafter, when our country is fully redeemed, his name will be inscribed in that faithful company, who, through good report and evil report, held fast to the truth.

Speech in the Senate, on the Death of Hon. Edward D. Baker, late Senator of Oregon, December 11, 1861.

MR. PRESIDENT,—The Senator to whom we now say farewell was generous in funeral homage to others. More than once he held great companies in rapt attention, while doing honor to the dead. Over the coffin of Broderick[243] he proclaimed the dying utterance of that early victim, and gave to it the fiery wings of his own eloquence: “They have killed me because I was opposed to the extension of Slavery, and a corrupt Administration”; and as the impassioned orator repeated these words, his own soul was knit in sympathy with the departed; and thus at once did he win to himself the friends of Freedom, though distant.

There are two forms of eminent talent which are kindred in effect, each producing instant impression, each holding crowds in suspense, and each kindling enthusiastic admiration: I mean the talent of the orator and the talent of the soldier. Each of these, when successful, gains immediate honor, and reads his praise in a nation’s eyes. Baker was orator and soldier. To him belongs the rare renown of this double character. Perhaps he carried into war something of the confidence inspired by the conscious sway of great multitudes, as he surely brought into speech something of the ardor of war. Call him, if you will, the Rupert of battle; he was also the Rupert of debate.

His success in life attests not only a remarkable genius, but the benign hospitality of our institutions. Born on a foreign soil, he was to our country only a step-son; but, were he now alive, I doubt not he would gratefully declare that the country was never to him an ungentle step-mother. Child of poverty, he was brought, while yet in tender years, to Philadelphia, where he began life an exile. His earliest days were passed at the loom rather than at school; and yet from this lowliness he achieved the highest posts of trust and honor, being at the same time Senator and General. It was the boast of Pericles, in his funeral oration, in the Ceramicus, over the dead who had fallen in battle, that the Athenians readily communicated to all the advantages which they themselves enjoyed, that they did not exclude the stranger from their walls, and that Athens was a city open to the Human Family.[244] The same boast may be repeated by us with better reason, as we commemorate our dead fallen in battle.

From Philadelphia the poor man’s son was carried to the West, where he grew with the growth of that surpassing region. He became one of its children; and his own manhood was closely associated with its powerful progress. The honors of the bar and of Congress were soon his; but impatient temper led him from these paths into the Mexican War, where he gallantly took the place of Shields—torn with wounds and almost dead—at Cerro Gordo. But the great West, beginning to teem with population, did not satisfy his ambition, and he repaired to California. With infancy rocked on the waves of the Atlantic, and manhood formed in the broad and open expanse of the Prairie, he now sought a home on the shores of the Pacific. There again his genius was promptly recognized. A new State, which had just taken its place in the Union, sent him as Senator; and Oregon first became truly known to us on this floor by his eloquent lips.[245]

In the Senate he took at once the part of orator. His voice was not full and sonorous, but sharp and clear. It was penetrating rather than commanding, and yet, when touched by his ardent nature, became sympathetic and even musical. Countenance, body, and gesture all shared the unconscious inspiration of his voice, and he went on, master of his audience, master also of himself. All his faculties were completely at command. Ideas, illustrations, words, seemed to come unbidden and range in harmonious forms,—as in the walls of ancient Thebes each stone took its proper place of its own accord, moved only by the music of a lyre. His fame as a speaker was so peculiar, even before he appeared among us, that it was sometimes supposed he might lack those solid powers without which the oratorical faculty itself exercises only a transient influence. But his speech on this floor in reply to a slaveholding conspirator, now an open rebel, showed that his matter was as good as his manner, and that, while master of fence, he was also master of ordnance. His oratory was graceful, sharp, and flashing, like a cimeter; but his argument was powerful and sweeping, like a battery.

You have not forgotten that speech. Perhaps the argument against the sophism of Secession was never better arranged and combined, or more simply popularized for general apprehension. A generation had passed since that traitorous absurdity, fit cover of conspiracy, was exposed. For a while it had shrunk into darkness, driven back by the massive logic of Daniel Webster and the honest sense of Andrew Jackson.

As the pretension showed itself anew, our orator undertook again to expose it. How thoroughly he did this, now with historic and now with forensic skill, while his whole effort was elevated by a charming, ever-ready eloquence, aroused to new power by the interruptions he encountered,—all this is present to your minds. That speech passed at once into general acceptance, while it gave its author an assured position in this body.

Another speech showed him in a different character. It was his instant reply to the Kentucky Senator,[246]—not then expelled from this body. The occasion was peculiar. A Senator, with treason in his heart, if not on his lips, had just sat down. Our lamented Senator, who had entered the Chamber direct from his camp, rose at once to reply. He began simply and calmly; but, as he proceeded, the fervid soul broke forth in words of surpassing power. On the former occasion he presented the well-ripened fruits of study; but now he spoke with the spontaneous utterance of his natural eloquence, meeting the polished traitor at every point with weapons keener and brighter than his own.

Not content with the brilliant opportunities of this Chamber, he accepted a commission in the Army, vaulting from the Senate to the saddle, as he had already leaped from Illinois to California. With a zeal that never tired, after recruiting men, drawn by the attraction of his name, in New York, Philadelphia, and elsewhere, he held his brigade in camp near the Capitol, so that he passed easily from one to the other, and thus alternated between the duties of Senator and of General.

His latter career was short, though shining. At a disastrous encounter near Ball’s Bluff, he fell, pierced by nine balls. That brain, once the seat and organ of subtile power, swaying assemblies, and giving to this child of obscurity place and command among his fellow-men, was now rudely shattered, and the bosom that throbbed so bravely was rent by numerous wounds. He died with his face to the foe,—and he died so instantly, that he passed without pain from the service of his country to the service of his God. It is sweet and becoming to die for country. Such a death, sudden, but not unprepared for, is the crown of the patriot soldier.

But the question is painfully asked, Who was author of this tragedy, now filling the Senate Chamber, as already it has filled the country, with mourning? There is a strong desire to hold somebody responsible, where so many perished so unprofitably. But we need not appoint committees, or study testimony, to know precisely who took this precious life. That great criminal is easily detected,—still erect and defiant, without concealment or disguise. The guns, the balls, and the men that fired them are of little importance. It is the power behind all, saying, “The State, it is I,” that took this precious life; and this power is Slavery. The nine balls that slew our departed brother came from Slavery. Every gaping wound of his slashed bosom testifies against Slavery. Every drop of his generous blood cries out from the ground against Slavery. The brain so rudely shattered has its own voice, and the tongue so suddenly silenced in death speaks now with more than living eloquence. To hold others responsible is to hold the dwarf agent and dismiss the giant principal. Nor shall we do great service, if, merely criticizing some local blunder, we leave untouched that fatal forbearance through which the weakness of the Rebellion is changed into strength, and the strength of our armies is changed into weakness.

May our grief to-day be no hollow pageant, nor expend itself in this funeral pomp! It must become a motive and impulse to patriot action. But patriotism itself, that commanding charity, embracing so many other charities, is only a name, and nothing else, unless we resolve, calmly, plainly, solemnly, that Slavery, the barbarous enemy of our country, the irreconcilable foe of our Union, the violator of our Constitution, the disturber of our peace, the vampire of our national life, sucking its best blood, the assassin of our children, and the murderer of our dead Senator, shall be struck down. And the way is easy. The just avenger is at hand, with weapon of celestial temper. Let it be drawn. Until this is done, the patriot, discerning clearly the secret of our weakness, can only say sorrowfully:—