Speeches of Carl Schurz/12 Appeal to Common Sense
XII.
APPEAL TO COMMON SENSE.
SPEECH DELIVERED AT THE ACADEMY OF MUSIC, MILWAUKEE,
ON THE 28TH OF OCTOBER, 1864.
Like the two preceding ones this speech was delivered in the Presidential campaign of 1864. It was the object of the speaker to review those points of the controversy, a full discussion of which the line of argument followed in his previous addresses had not permitted. This speech bears, therefore, to a certain extent, the character of a supplement. At the time of its delivery the Congressional and State elections in Pennsylvania, Ohio and Indiana had already taken place, and the result was so favorable to the Union cause, that the Presidential election seemed to be no longer in doubt.
Mr. President and Fellow-Citizens:—
My experience leads me to believe that the party
arrayed against the Government of the Republic in this
crisis contains a large number of people who honestly
mean to do right, but who, by force of habit, are following
their accustomed leaders without questioning the consistency
of their conduct and the candor and truthfulness of
their representations. Their principal failing is that they
are too careless to think for themselves, for a little
independence of mind joined to their good intentions would
certainly lead them to see what is right, and to act
accordingly. It is to them that I will address myself.
From the Democratic leaders I will appeal to the
Democratic masses. I shall abstain from all attempts to captivate their senses with oratorical display, and address
myself to their common sense with the simplest language
at my command.
The object of our struggle with the rebellious people of the South is, and ought to be, to restore the Union, and to make it a permanent institution. Every candid man among our opponents, who has not banished the last remnant of patriotic feeling from his heart, will accept this definition as correct. Whoever is not in favor of restoring the Union is a disunionist, and ought to be sent to his friends across the lines. [Applause.] Whosoever pretends to be in favor of restoring the Union, but not in favor of making the Union a permanent institution, is either a knave or a fool, and in neither capacity entitled to the esteem and confidence of his fellow-citizens. [Loud applause.] With him it is not worth while to reason.
As to the object of the great struggle, then, we are agreed. Our disagreement seems to be about the means and measures by which the common object is to achieved. Let us review the points of difference.
We have tried and are trying to accomplish the restoration of the Union by the experiment of war. Are you opposed to this? If you are so now, you certainly were not always so. There was a time, only three short years ago, when most of those, whose feelings have since become so peaceable, clamored for war with bursting enthusiasm. They predicted that the Democrats alone would drive the rebels into the Gulf of Mexico; they spoke of nothing but swords and bayonets; even Fernando Wood helped in raising a regiment. The war was called a holy war that must be fought out to the last drop of blood. You remember the glorious time of the great uprising. But if the war was a holy war then, why are you opposed to it now? Is not the cause of the rebels as damnable to-day as it was then? Are not our enemies the same? Has the restoration of the Union become less desirable, less necessary? Why, then, your opposition?
Your Democratic Convention at Chicago, which may be said to have represented all elements of the opposition party, has given us a reason. By a unanimous vote it declares that the war is a failure, and that, therefore, hostilities must be stopped. Good. But what is now to be done? Will you give up the Union? No, your Convention declares that the Union must be restored. If so, and the war having failed to do it, some other agency must be found out which will be more effective—and, indeed, the Chicago Convention tells us that, if we wait to restore the Union, peaceable means must be resorted to. But what assurance have you, that, war having failed, peaceable means will succeed? Have the rebels told you so? No. They have declared a hundred times, with terrible emphasis, that no concession ever so liberal, no persuasion ever so seductive, will induce them to return to their allegiance. I defy your Democratic leaders to show anything to the contrary. Or did the Democratic Convention base their hopes upon any precedent in history, where a power, against which the experiment of war had proved a failure, yielded and surrendered all it had been contending for with arms, to the meek and humble appliance of coaxing? There is none. It is against common sense; it is against human nature. But what in the world, then, did they base their confidence in the efficiency of peaceable means upon?
The matter resolves itself into this: If the war is a failure, mere entreaty is hopeless, for the rebels have nothing to fear if they refuse. If you want entreaty to succeed, you must make the war succeed first, for your strength is the only thing upon which your entreaty can stand. But your leaders tell you that you must abandon the experiment of war, and restore the Union by peaceable means, while peaceable propositions are most clearly and perfectly hopeless unless they are backed and supported by success in war. Do you see the absurdity of this? The Union must be restored; we failed in restoring it by war; it must be restored by peaceable means; peaceable propositions cannot succeed unless backed and supported by warlike successes; but the experiment of war must be given up. This is the policy of your leaders. [Laughter.] In adopting this policy your leaders either knew what they were doing, or they did not know it. If they did not know it, they were men without sense; if they did know it, they were men without honesty. My Democratic friends, are they in either case fit to guide you? [Laughter and applause.]
But let us examine the premises upon which they built such singular conclusions. Is the war really a failure? Pardon me, if I deem it useless to go into details in order to answer that question. Only three years ago the rebellion commanded almost every foot of ground and every seaport south of the Ohio and the Potomac, and now, of this immense territory, all but one-third is in our hands. [Applause.] Only three years ago the armies of the rebellion were so strong that the gentleman who is now the Democratic candidate for the Presidency, while in command of our largest army, always complained that the rebels, wherever he met them, were much too strong for him. [Laughter.] Where are they now? Reduced to two armies, one behind the entrenchments of Petersburg, unable to move, and the other, Hood's, on a raiding excursion in Tennessee; and the latter, I apprehend, will soon be at a loss how to move quickly enough. [Great laughter and cheers.] The war a failure when the tidings of victory come upon us in torrents, borne by the whirlwinds of Atlanta and the Shenandoah Valley? [Repeated cheers.]
But your leaders tell you, you must distrust the bulletins of the War Department, and that many of those great victories are nothing but electioneering tricks. It is a sorry policy, indeed, which forbids you to believe in your country's glory. [Applause.] Electioneering tricks! The capture of Atlanta was a capital electioneering trick, I own it. [Shouts of laughter.] No more consummate trickster on record than Phil. Sheridan! [Repeated laughter.] Electioneering tricks, indeed! I apprehend, if your Democratic candidate for the Presidency had played a few electioneering tricks of that description, the election returns from Pennsylvania, Indiana and Ohio might have been different, and the late commander of the Army of the Potomac would have no reason to stand in mortal fear of the soldiers' vote! [Loud applause.]
But I am willing to let your leaders have the full benefit of their representations. If they refuse to trust the bulletins of the War Department, will they permit themselves to doubt also the veracity of one of their own highest authorities, Jefferson Davis himself? [Laughter.] See, then, Jefferson Davis dolefully perambulating the little remnant of his tottering Confederacy; hear him most plaintively bewail his disasters; hear him say that the hope of the Southern cause hangs upon the women and the little boys and the old grey-beards, since the stock of young men is exhausted, and since two-thirds of their soldiers have run away from their colors! Did you read the speech Jefferson Davis delivered at Macon? And now, when even he, who is certainly not in the employ of our War Department—when even he tells us by implication that the end is near; when even he shows us how great a success the war is on our part, what excuse is there left for your Democratic leaders to declare the war a failure? [Loud applause.]
Let us be honest, my Democratic friends. Neither you nor your leaders do this moment believe that this war is a failure, and I am sure there is not a single man in this vast assembly who would have courage enough to stand up and say it is. But what, then, becomes of the Chicago argument, that, because the war is a failure, peaceable means must be resorted to? Is it not to propose that which is absurd, on the ground of that which is a lie? [Great cheering.] And such leaders you would follow?
I am willing to admit, this was not always the ground upon which they based their opposition to the Administration. But a short time ago they declaimed against the Administration because the conduct of the war was not vigorous enough. Were they sincere in this? We can apply a test which is very simple. They could prove their sincerity only by doing all they could to make the conduct of the war more vigorous. Had they been sincere, they would have zealously aided the Government in strengthening its authority; they would have eagerly helped in procuring men and money; they would have applauded the President for removing from stations of great responsibility commanders who had shown their inefficiency. This it would have been natural for them to do, had their complaint been sincere. But what did they do? Instead of endeavoring to re-establish the authority of the Government in the rebel States, they endeavored to undermine it even in the loyal States. Did they not? They clamored against every exercise of power on the part of the Government against open and secret traitors. Did they not? They spoke and voted in Congress against almost every measure by which the Treasury might be enabled to meet the extraordinary exigencies of the service. Did they not? They protested against filling up the army by conscription when volunteering began to flag. Did they not? They raised an outcry of indignation against the reinforcement of our army by negro troops. Did they not? They assailed the Government with boundless fierceness when a General was removed from command, who had been so uniformly unfortunate, that when once or twice fortune smiled upon him, he did not recognize her. Did they not? [Great applause.]
And now, while doing all to keep the Treasury lean, and the army feeble, complain that the conduct of the war is not vigorous enough! Is not this as if you would put a man upon starvation fare, and then complain that he does not grow fat? [Loud laughter and applause.] And this is what they propose to do to make the war more vigorous: if we will but place the Government into their hands, they will dismiss from the army the two hundred thousand negro soldiers, whose services have become indispensable, and will abandon the conscription by which the gap thus made might be filled up. Is not that like bleeding a man to within an inch of his life preparatory to a prize-fight? [Repeated laughter and applause.] Nay, they propose to do one thing, which is indeed calculated to impart the most terrible vigor to the conduct of the war: they will not leave the supreme direction of our military forces in the hands of the hero of Vicksburg, but they will place the hero of the seven days' retreat over him. [Bursts of laughter and applause.] There is some method in all this, for at Chicago they have resolved to stop the war altogether, and, it must be admitted, they know how to do it. Yes, after having declaimed so much about a lack of vigor in the conduct of the war, they propose to stop the war altogether, as if the most vigorous way of fighting were not to fight at all. [Repeated bursts of laughter and cheers.] I appeal again to you, my friends; men who deal in such absurdities, such men would you not be ashamed to follow as your leaders?
But I will be just to them. They grounded their complaints upon other reasons. While pretending that the conduct of the war was not vigorous enough in one direction, it seemed to be a little too vigorous for them in another. They complained that the war was carried on by our Government with illegitimate means, and that, therefore, they could not support the Administration. And what did the use of illegitimate means on the part of our Government consist in? In this, that we used the enemy's property for our advantage. Could they blame the Government for a thing which is done the world over, and which is justified as a perfectly legitimate means of warfare by the law of nations? Yes, they did so, and I will prove it; and in order to prove it, I shall place myself exactly upon the same ground which you, Democrats, have occupied for years.
Your leaders tell you that negro slaves are property just in the same measure and manner as horses and cattle and provisions are property. Granted for argument's sake. As our armies penetrated into the enemy's country, a large quantity of that negro property fell into their hands. What were we to do with the captured negroes? Send then back to their masters? or keep them, feed them, clothe them for the purpose of returning them at some future time? We captured also cavalry horses and beeves. Who would have thought of sending them back to their owners, or of feeding and grooming without using them? The captured cattle property was butchered and distributed in the shape of rations; upon the captured horse property we mounted our cavalrymen; why, then, in the name of common sense, should we not put the captured negro property to such use as it was capable of? Do you see how absurd it would be to object to this? And mark you well, Democrats, this property theory is yours, and I have abstained from discussing the matter from the stand-point of my own principles.
But the principal thing against which your leaders protested was that the negroes were armed and employed as soldiers in the field. Keep in mind, I am still, for argument's sake, speaking of the negro as a mere species of property. Why, then, should negro property not be used for fighting purposes? It is reasonable, nay, it is necessary that, when engaged in war, we should put all our means and instruments of warfare to the highest measure of usefulness. We want our rifles and our artillery to have as much power of destruction as possible. If we could procure a cannon that would demolish a whole regiment at one blow, would we not use it? If we could make our horses fight, instead of merely letting them carry our cavalrymen, would we not do so? Why, then, not put the negro to the highest measure of his usefulness? If he is able to fight, instead of merely driving teams or carrying bundles, why should we not make him fight? Would it not be folly to abstain from doing so? Do not the rebels make the savage Indian fight against civilized Union soldiers? Would they not make alligators fight in their ranks, if alligators were capable of discipline? Why, then, in the name of common sense, was it not better to make the negro fight for the Union, instead of obliging him to work for the rebellion? I repeat it, Democrats, and I do not want you to forget it; in reasoning thus I have placed myself upon your own ground, and I mean to hold you to the logical consequences of your own position; if the negro is the property of our enemies, what reason is there that we should not use him as the enemy's property, captured in war? [Applause.]
Still in order to satisfy the most scrupulous of you, I will again bring an authority which will be satisfactory to the most fastidious of Democratic leaders. This very moment some of the most influential papers in rebeldom are advocating the arming of negro slaves on their side—and not only that, they are advocating also the emancipation of the slaves so enrolled in the army. Is not this sufficient to silence all Democratic opposition to the measure? If the rebels think of arming their slaves to lead them against us, what impropriety in the world should there be in our arming the blacks to lead them against the rebels? Can you tell? And if the rebels promise emancipation to the negroes fighting for them, are we to be less generous to the negroes fighting for us? Are we so unspeakably mean, that we should refuse to give what costs us nothing? Nay, if the rebels promise them their freedom for fighting in the ranks of the slaveholding South, ought we to keep a race in bondage which is willingly fighting in the ranks of the free North? [Loud and continued cheering.]
But your leaders tell you, that this measure has so irritated our southern brethren, that reconciliation has become impossible unless we abandon it. Emancipation and the arming of negroes irritated the rebels? I doubt it not. You will find generally, that that irritates them most, which hurts them most. [Great applause.] Look at our military and naval leaders. Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, and Farragut have irritated the rebels very severely, for they have hurt them very severely. [Great cheering.] You have chosen as year candidate for the Presidency a General whose nomination does not irritate the rebels at all, probably for the reason that the General never hurt them at all. [Explosion of laughter and cheers.] Would it not be wise to go on irritating the rebellion by hurting it? Who knows—we may succeed in bringing about its death by excessive irritation. [Repeated laughter and cheers.]
Emancipation and the arming of negroes—the only obstacle in the way of reunion! Can your leaders refrain from blushing when they utter it? Or is your recollection of past events so short that you could believe it? You certainly remember the time, in the first year of the war, when emancipation and negro-arming were not spoken of; nay, when the slaveholder was scrupulously, although very unwisely, protected in the possession of his property. You certainly remember it. If emancipation and negro-arming are the only obstacle in the way of reunion, why, then, did the rebels not come back while emancipation and negro-arming were not spoken of? Can you tell? And that was the time when the rebels dealt us the heaviest blows. You remember the time when the rebellion broke out; Mr. Lincoln could not yet have irritated the rebels with his emancipation policy, for Mr. Buchanan was still President, and he certainly did not think of emancipating and arming the negroes. [Laughter.] If, then, emancipation and negro-arming are the only obstacles in the way of reunion, why did not the rebels return then, or rather, why did they go off at all? Can you tell? And it was just then that they committed the first acts of hostility by taking our forts and arsenals; it was then that they swore, with such terrible emphasis, they would never come back under any circumstances. And still your leaders accuse us of having shut and looked the gates of peace and reconciliation? Will any one of them answer the question: Why, if the emancipation policy of the Government was the only obstacle to reconciliation, why did not the rebels lay down their arms at the time when they might have had peace without emancipation and negro-arming? And still your leaders persist in asserting that the emancipation policy was the only thing that prevented peace? They may be impudent enough to assert it, but can you be foolish enough to believe it? Will you permit them to reckon with impunity upon your being as ignorant and stupid as they are impudent? [Great applause.]
I might now close this review of the arguments by which your leaders try to convince you that a change of administration and of policy is necessary, were it not for one charge they bring against the Government, and upon which they harp with the most vociferous persistency. It is that the Government has during this war disregarded and violated the rights and liberties of the citizen. I am not the man to equivocate about such matters; I never shrink from discussing the merits or demerits of my own party, and I never deny what I believe to be a fact. Yes, the Government has, in some cases, arrested and punished individuals for treasonable talk and suspended newspapers for treasonable publications, especially when such talk or publications tended to impede recruiting or to induce soldiers to desert their colors. If I stood here as a mere advocate of the Government, I might examine case after case, and say this or that in justification of those in authority. But I will abstain. I will even go so far as to admit that, in some instances, the Government would have acted with more wisdom and justice if it had abstained from such interference. I will go still further, and say that I am, on principle, opposed to such acts, and that, in most cases, the evil done is greater than the evil redressed. I have a right to speak so, for I have always spoken so; at an early period of this war I warned the people of the dangers arising from such encroachments, and from the condition of things that produces them.[1]
But where are the facts that would justify the wild denunciations hurled against the government by your Democratic leaders? Where are the “atrocities” which would bear out the assertion “that in this country free speech and free press have ceased to exist? that this Government is the worst despotism the world ever saw?” I ask you in all candor, did you ever attend a Democratic meeting during this election-campaign? If you have, then I defy you to show me in the English dictionary a term of opprobrium which has not, by your Democratic speakers, been most lavishly applied to the Government of this Republic! let your imagination invent a calumny, or an insult, that has not been thrown in the face of the President of the United States! And now, while saying with impunity all they do say, they complain that they cannot say what they please? [Bursts of laughter and cheering.] Again, do you read Democratic newspapers? tell me, are not, day after day, the President and all the members of the Government denounced and vilified as the meanest and most execrable villains in all Christendom? And now, while writing what they do write every day with impunity, they insist upon complaining that they cannot write what they please? [Repeated laughter and cheers.]
I invite to judge the character of these vile accusations from another and higher stand-point. Look into the annals of the world; scrutinize the history of every revolutionary movement from the first beginning of political organizations down to the present day and then show me one in the course of which a government was assailed so fiercely, was calumniated so savagely, was hampered and impeded in its action so unscrupulously, and in which the rights and liberties of the citizen were held so sacred? [Great applause.] I do not say this as if such a comparison could absolutely justify everything that has been done by the Administration; for, the question presenting itself purely and simply, I would not hesitate to declare my opposition to every encroachment upon civil rights and liberties that is not commanded by the most imperative necessity. But what I mean to say, is, that to the provocations springing from revolutionary circumstances, our Government has been yielding in a far less degree than any government history tells us of, and that the offences committed, however censurable in themselves, appear small when compared with the enormity of the charges brought on their account. [Applause.]
And, pray, who are the men who bring these charges? Who are they that suddenly stand up so fiercely in vindication of free press and free speech? Look at them and remember their histories. They are just the same men who, but four or five short years ago, insisted that every anti-slavery speaker should be dragged from the platform, and that every anti-slavery press should be burned to ashes. They are the old advocates of a system of society which cannot breathe the same air with a free press and free speech. Are they not? Look at them man for man! Let them be judged by their own acts. Yes, the men who now are so clamorous about the inviolability of him who uses the liberties of speech and press for the benefit of slavery and treason and all that is villainous under the sun,—they are the same who trampled upon those liberties when they were used in behalf of the rights of men and the moral character of the nation. They who now complain so vociferously of isolated acts committed in times of war, are the same who, in times of peace, attempted to raise restrictions on the freedom of speech and press to the dignity of a system. Are they to be appointed the guardians of our rights and liberties? Let them show that they held the exercise of our rights and liberties sacred when they liked it not—or let them swallow their own denunciations in silence. Of all men, they are the last who have a right to complain! [Continued applause.]
You want the rights and liberties of the citizen protected! Then let us have the Union and peace restored upon the basis of equal justice to all men; let us have a country purged of those abnormities which shun the light of free discussion; let the natural rights of man be held sacred; let us have a Republic firmly established upon complete harmony between our social institutions and the fundamental principles underlying our political system,—and the rights and liberties of the citizen will no longer be in danger! [Enthusiastic applause.]
I will return to the question I first proposed to discuss. I have shown you the utter futility of the objections to the policy of our Government brought by your Democratic leaders. If you have followed my argument, you must be convinced how unwise it would be to insist upon overthrowing a policy so reasonable, and withal so successful, upon grounds so foolish and frivolous. I invite you to cast one more look upon the actual situation of things. Trust, I entreat you, trust for once the evidence of your senses. You see the rebellion reduced to extremities by a series of tremendous blows; you see the flag of the Union waving in every State; you see our victorious forces commanding nearly two-thirds of the territory originally held by the rebels; you see our navy commanding all their ports but two; you see the main armies of the Confederacy melting down every day, one of them reduced to a passive defensive, behind the entrenchments of Richmond, and the other engaged in a raiding expedition which is almost certain to bring on its ruin; you see the Rebel President travelling from place to place sounding the signal of distress; you see the Southern press teeming with evidences of their exhaustion in men and money; from their own lips you have the confession of their weakness. On the other hand you see the power of the Union stronger and more defiant than ever; you see the Northern country still abounding in men and material resources; you see a people full of hope and confidence; you see our troops full of the enthusiasm and impatience of an heroic spirit; you hear the commanders of our armies, with proud assurance, predicting a final victory; with your own eyes you see the end step-by-step approaching. [Great cheering.]
And now I ask you in all candor—and I address the question, not to your pride or imagination but to your common sense—would it be prudent, or manly, or patriotic, to give up a policy which has already led to such tremendous results? Would it be wise to disregard the grave warning of our General-in-Chief who tells us, that the last hope of the rebellion rests, not on its own strength, but on the political divisions among the people of the North? The end is not far off; the object of the struggle is right before us; the way is straight and open. Would it not be an act of supreme folly to turn off to the right or left so as to lose it out of view? Can you, as sensible men, abandon a clear, straight, well-paved road, in order to flounder through the mire of uncertainty, guided by the ignis fatuus of a crazy opposition?
Or do your Democratic leaders offer you anything that would open still more promising prospects? Do they offer anything aside of that violent and insidious criticism of every step taken on the road of success? anything aside of that factious and venomous opposition to those measures of the Government which alone can lead to further success? Do they offer you any positive plan of policy? Ah, yes? At a moment when a few more such vigorous blows as have been struck may finally decide the struggle, they present you the proposition of a cessation of hostilities—the only thing that could save the enemy from such blows. Only look at this: the proposition of an armistice was resolved upon by the Chicago Convention only two or three days before Atlanta fell. Imagine that that resolution had been acted upon immediately—and it certainly was intended to be acted upon; imagine that the Government had adopted the plan of the Democratic party at once, and had despatched a messenger to General Sherman with an order to act according to that policy without delay—what would have been the consequence? Sherman's arm, was already lifted to strike the final blow on the rebel hosts; that arm would have been arrested in the midst of the stroke; our victorious army would have stood still before Atlanta, and, instead of taking the city, would have humbly sued for a cessation of hostilities and for permission to go home unmolested, amidst the jeers and laughter of all rebeldom, nay of the whole world. Is it not so? And is that what you would have? Does not your blood tingle with shame at the mere thought? [Loud and continued applause.]
And such a proposition is the whole positive plan of policy your Democratic leaders had to offer you? Yes, it is all. What? In times like these, at a moment when the grand future of the American Republic seems ready to spring forth from the womb of trial and danger—this most contemptible, dastardly act of surrender is all they have to propose? Yes, all. And now, in the face of these facts, let me see the man who can waver! Let me see the American who can still hesitate when he has to choose between honor and disgrace, between a country saved by the heroic spirit of the people in arms, and a country traded off by the cowardly schemes of political tricksters. [Great applause.]
I will dismiss this branch of the subject. I trust, Democrats, I have shown you, to your satisfaction, that if you sincerely desire to restore the unity of this Republic, it would be either folly or crime for you to follow the tricky advice of your leaders. You must be, and, if you permit your consciences to speak, you are convinced that the restoration of the Union can be achieved only by an open, vigorous, straightforward fight, and by a policy which permits us to make a resolute use of all the elements of strength within our reach. But, you say, the restoration of the Union is not our only object; we want to make the Union a permanent institution. Well, then, how is this to be done? I appeal again to your common sense.
If you want to give permanency to the restored Union, the first thing necessary is that you put to rest the great element of discord which has continually disturbed the repose and threatened the unity of the Republic. And what is that element? It is the omnipresent, eternal slavery question. Are you not heartily tired of it? You always assured us that you were, and I respond by assuring you that I am. I wish I had never heard of it before, and I wish I might never again hear of it hereafter. [Applause.] Indeed, we have a right to be tired of it. For forty years it has agitated the public mind with continually increasing fury. No compromise could quiet it, no apparent settlement could appease it. Is it necessary that I should show you, why it sprang up again and again in spite of the efforts made to keep it down? I have discussed the point a hundred times; I will not repeat what has been said so often. Enough, it did keep the body politic in ceaseless agitation; it did at last lead to an attempt to break up the Republic. Everything else could be settled by compromises, or other means of mutual understanding, but the slavery question could not. This is the fact, and with the fact we have to deal. Is it not indeed time that, at last, it should be disposed of and put to rest, so that it may not trouble us again? Is it not a duty we owe to the Union, the restoration of which is bought at so heavy a price, that this great stumbling-block should be taken out of its way? But how dispose of it—how put it to rest forever? There is but one way, and that is simple, straightforward and sure. Let slavery itself disappear from the scene. [Enthusiastic cheering.] Let it die, and it will not trouble us again. Slavery dead, there will be an end of the slavery question. [Repeated cheering.]
You shrink back, Democrats, from the idea of giving the negro his freedom? Why? Have you not told us again and again, that, while we were troubling ourselves so much about the negro question, the negro himself had every reason to feel happy and contented in the condition of slavery? that he was well fed, well clothed, had but a moderate share of labor to perform, and no earthly cares upon him? Did you not always tell us so? And now mark well, I am reasoning upon the ground of your own proposition. If the picture you draw of the pleasant life of the negro slave is true, well then, in the name of justice and common sense, let the negro, after having so long enjoyed all the comforts of slavery, at last learn to submit to the troubles and hardships of freedom! [Bursts of laughter and applause.] Is a negro better than a white man? [Repeated laughter and cheers.] Why should we expose ourselves to the perplexities of endless controversies on his account? Why should we expose the Republic to the dangers of a ceaseless and furious agitation, merely to secure to the negro the careless ease and the sunny happiness of his patriarchal condition? [Continued laughter and applause.] Let him come forth; let him work for his daily bread on his own responsibility; let him, if need be, shoulder his musket for the defence of the Republic, like the rest of us; let him assume his share of trouble and danger; let him take care of himself—but, for the sake of all that is good and great, let the body politic have rest! Is not this just and reasonable? [Continued applause.]
Still, after having argued thus upon premises advanced by yourselves, I do not ask you, Democrats, to sit down at the feet of William Lloyd Garrison or Wendell Philips, to be initiated in all the doctrines of abolitionism, nor do I expect you to go to the South, gun in hand, for the purpose of freeing every man his negro. Year services are, by no means, indispensable in that line. Slavery is, at this moment, abolishing itself. It is dying of its own poison. [Great applause.] All I ask you to do, is not to go to the trouble of disturbing the process of nature, but to let it die. [Repeated applause.] Look around you. Slavery has been abolished by the loyal people of West Virginia; it has been abolished in Louisiana; it has been abolished in Arkansas; it has, at last, been abolished in Maryland. [Cheers.] And improving upon the Southern text, we may now sing: “Maryland, our Maryland!” [Loud and long cheers.] Missouri, now being fully abolitionized by the rebel General Price, will soon follow the good example, and Tennessee will not lag behind; Kentucky and Delaware, isolated, will have no choice; and as to the rest of the Southern States, as our armies move in, so slavery moves out; only let us shut the door behind it. [Great applause.] Throughout the whole South the system has been so violently shaken by the earthquake of the war, that people are glad to hurry from under. The ball of emancipation is rolling on in obedience to the laws of gravitation. Do not stand in the way. I do not expect you, Democrats, to push; all I ask you to do, is not to put on the brakes. [Applause.] You have always been telling us, that you, individually, did not love slavery; I will go so far as to excuse you even from hating it; only treat it with becoming disdain and indifference, and the rest will easily be attended to. [Renewed cheers and laughter.] Yes, slavery is abolishing itself; you have only to acknowledge the fact, and let it be duly and legally recorded. Then you will be relieved of the controversy, which, as you told us, was always so distasteful to you; with slavery the element of strife and discord will disappear, which alone has imperiled the permanency of the Union. [Applause.]
And why should you not, even if you cannot screw up your feelings to something like sympathy, take advantage of so fine an opportunity to aid in this great consummation by mere indifference? Can you tell me, or can your leaders tell you, an earthly reason of the least degree of plausibility, why you should endeavor to prevent the disappearance of slavery? why you should refuse to give the sanction of law to a fact so grand? why you should insist upon being troubled by the slavery question? But if there is no reason why you should, and every possible reason why you should not, how can you, as men of sense and spirit, obey the command of those who persistently order you—you shall? When will you, at last, emancipate yourselves from that disgraceful mental servitude, which is an insult to your understanding, and an outrage to your hearts? [Great applause.]
So much about the great measure, which, as reason and experience teach you, must be adopted, if you desire to make the Union a permanent institution. Having now stated the objects we want to accomplish, and reviewed the means by which to accomplish them, I will apply one criterion to the policies of the two contending parties, the justness of which, even the dullest mind will perceive. Will you, for a moment, try to imagine what will happen, if the Union party succeeds at the approaching election? It is so easy to imagine it; everybody knows it. We shall calmly and steadily continue to pursue the policy which has already led to such glorious results, and which, by its success in the past, gives us solid guarantees for its success in the future. We shall continue to fight, until the rebellion is down on its knees, and begs for peace [applause]; and then we shall grant the people of the rebellious States a peace which is compatible with the permanency of the Union. [Repeated applause.] The means we shall employ are those we have already employed; they are the physical power of arms, and the moral power of a great and just reform. [Continued applause.] This policy is simple, straightforward, and strong; every child can understand the principles upon which it proceeds, and the ends which it must accomplish. You may ask what we shall do if defeat should come upon us again? The answer is plain. We shall do what we did when defeat was upon us before. We shall rally the strength of the nation once more, and roll its weight against the bulwarks of the rebellion with increased momentum. So we shall go on with a courage indomitable, with a firmness of purpose unbending, with a faith inexhaustible. [Prolonged cheers.] And how can we fail in the end? It is said that right makes might; and right and might united, how can they fail? And thus the policy of the Union party stands before you, clear, unmistakable, reasonable in its means, grand in its ends, sure of ultimate success. [Repeated cheering.]
But, on the other hand, can you imagine what will happen, if the Democratic party succeed at the approaching election? Is there in this vast assembly a member of that party who can tell me? I wait for an answer!—No reply. I do not wonder. To devise an answer to that question requires more than common ingenuity. Even a Yankee would hardly be up to the task. [A laugh.] I declare myself unable to supply the deficiency. Will they carry on the war? No, their platform speaks only of peace. Will they make peace? No, their candidate speaks of war. [Laughter.] What, then, in the name of common sense, will they do? Will they split the difference and pursue a policy in which there will be a little war and a little peace? [Laughter.] A little war, emasculated by a little peace? A little peace which a little war will not be sufficient to win? Democrats, you complain already of the burdens and sacrifices entailed upon you by the war? Then let me tell you, the bloodiest and costliest, because the longest and most undecisive, of wars, is that which is not all war, but has a little peace in it; and the most unsatisfactory, nay, the most impossible peace; is that which you try to win by just a little war. [Applause.] If, having to deal with an enemy who is determined to resist to the last, you want to save blood and treasure, you must make the war sharp and energetic; you must not think of peace until success is clearly decided. If you want a certain and durable peace, let the defeat of the enemy be so thorough that peace and its conditions are with him not a matter of choice, but a matter of necessity. [Continued applause.] You may tell me that this will be difficult. It may be difficult, but it will be far less difficult than to accomplish a good peace by a little war, for that will be impossible. It may be difficult, but is it not necessary? And now I ask you, not only as patriots but as sensible men, will you confide a task which is so necessary and so difficult, to the hands of men who confessedly have no policy, or if they have, do not dare to avow it? Will you place the future of the Republic into the hands of a party, whose purposes are all confusion, indecision, and darkness? Will you stake the very life of the nation upon the success of a plan of which you yourselves do not know what it is? You would despise a man who in the mere affairs of every-day life should act so foolishly; and yet you would set the commonest rules of prudence aside, when your own peace, power, liberty, happiness, security—your all, and that of your children and children's children is at stake! [Applause.]
Democrats, you cannot say that I have endeavored to befog your judgment with the artifices of oratory; you cannot say that I have tried to work upon your passions or your pride. I have not spoken to you from the stand-point of what you call sentimental philanthropy, nor have I even endeavored to stir up those tender sympathies with the suffering and downtrodden, which sleep in every human heart, and which, when aroused, might bias the reasoning of your minds. No, placing myself upon the identical ground which you yourselves for years have been in the habit of occupying, I have argued with you in the plain, dry, cold language of common sense. I have endeavored to prove to you, not what would be patriotic, exalted and noble, but simply what would be useful; I have appealed only to the instincts of your selfishness; and now does not your practical sense tell you that in every word I said I was right? If you are honest to yourselves you cannot deny it.
But I feel almost ashamed of having addressed such arguments to you; I feel as if I had to beg your pardon for it—for is it not humiliating that, in a crisis so solemn, so big with portentous decisions, we should, in order to reach the minds of a large number of American citizens, have to descend to a strain of reasoning so low? Is it not humiliating, that at a moment when interests so vast, principles so grand are at stake—when the whole future of the Republic, nay, the whole credit of the republican system of government trembles in the scale, we should be obliged to reply to the miserable rant and cant of disappointed party ambition? Do you not feel it to be a sad thing that, in such an hour, we should, in order to make an impression upon Americans, have to lower ourselves so far as to argue upon the assumed ground, that the brothers and parents and children of men who are fighting for this Republic on the battlefield can be held as property by the enemies of the Republic? May the genius of liberty forgive me for having done so, a single moment, only for argument's sake! Indeed, my friends, if there is one thing for which this nation would have a reason to be ashamed in all future time, it is, that it should have required the plea of necessity to justify a great reform which was dictated by the eternal laws of justice, and which ought to have been accomplished by the moral sense of the people alone. [Loud and prolonged applause.] For this, I say, this nation would have to be ashamed, were it not that this necessity was welcomed by the majority of the people with eager joy, for the desire to accomplish the great act was alive in their hearts, not waiting for a reason, but longing for an opportunity. [Repeated applause.] But will you, Democrats, expose yourselves to the terrible charge that even necessity found you unwilling to obey the commands of justice and humanity? that you would rather risk the Union and the blessings of free institutions, than wipe out the curse and abomination of slavery?
I repeat, I have appealed only to your selfishness. Let me hope that it would be unjust to you if I should stop here. I ask you to look for a moment beyond the limits of your own immediate interests. Sixteen years ago I was among those who, with the ardor of youthful hearts, plunged into the great struggle for Liberty in the Old World. I will not discuss here the correctness of our views and the practicability of our plans; but I will call up before you one feature of that contest which has a direct bearing upon the issues of our present struggle. We were at once met by the advocates of despotic power with the question: “Do you not know that in all times democratic government was a mere synonym with weakness and instability? Can you show us one in the history of the world, which, after having expanded beyond the limits of a single city or a small territory, was not at once either obliged to yield helplessly to the shock of foreign invasion or torn to pieces by the struggle of factions within?” We had to admit it, for neither Greece nor Rome, nor the Italian Republics, and still less republican France, could be adduced as examples to prove the contrary. The practicability of republican institutions on a great scale was yet to be proved. Then we pointed with triumphant assurance to the American Republic, which had undertaken the solution of the great problem, and had, at least, lasted its seventy years. But the answer was ready: “You will see! The aristocracy of the slaveholding South, governed by the ambitious instincts common to all aristocracies, will one day make a bold stroke for the permanent possession of supreme power in the Republic; the Republic will be involved in a fierce conflict of antagonistic elements; the democratic society of the North will either not have strength enough to resist the attempt of the Southern aristocracy, and the whole character of their government and institutions will thus be changed, or, in endeavoring to resist it, the democratic North will soon be distracted by conflicting counsel, and the government will sink in helpless impotency in the confused struggle of restless and uncontrollable factions.” Such was the prophecy. Americans, one part of it has become true. Shall the other become true also? [“No, no!”] Shall it be written in the history of the world, that, while there was power of cohesion in the slaveholding aristocracy of the South, the democratic society of the North, distracted by the treacherous schemes of unscrupulous demagogues, unable to unite upon a common plan of action, disarmed itself in the struggle for national existence? Shall it be written: the Northern people were so demoralized by the effects of democratic life, that, when neither the resources of the country nor the fortunes of war failed them, they basely abandoned themselves, and that thus the great problem of democratic government on a grand scale was doomed to the everlasting stigma of failure? [Cries of “No! no!”]
Democrats, look over the old world. As far as mankind walks in the light of modern civilization, as far as the tidings of our great struggle have penetrated palace and cottage, there is not a single friend of despotism who is not the rebels' and your friend; there is not a single heart beating for suffering and struggling humanity which is not beating for our cause! [Great applause.] And why is this? Because the destinies of all progressive movements the world over are linked together in a bond of sympathy with the destinies of this Republic; because the American Republic can stand in the history of the world in one of two characters only: either as the great beacon-light and guiding-star of humanity, or as a terrible, warning example; because, if we succeed, if we issue from this crisis a greater, a freer, a purer, and a more firmly united people, our success will be an argument for liberty everywhere, and the cause of progress in all countries will celebrate a victory; and if we fail, generations may have to pass away before any nation on earth will dare again to pronounce the word Republic. [Loud and prolonged applause.] And thus the nations of the world are standing around us, watching, with eager attention the progress of the struggle, cheering us on to stand firm by the cause which is not only ours, but theirs also; and, so help us heaven, we will! [enthusiastic applause]; and appealing to you to give up your distracting schemes, and to remember the duties the American Republic owes to mankind! [Repeated applause.]
Can such an appeal be lost upon you? If it be lost upon you, if you can, indeed, shut your ears against the demands of interest and prudence, and shut your hearts against the calls of patriotism and the great cause of humanity; if you will insist upon following with stubborn blindness the command of unscrupulous leaders, then you may do so at least with the consciousness of prostituting yourselves in vain. [Applause.] And upon this point I want to be correctly and distinctly understood. I do not ask you for your votes as if we needed them. [Repeated cheering.] Far from it. For I feel safe in telling you—and what I say comes from my sincerest convictions—we are already strong enough without you to elect a President of the United States, and to determine the future policy of the Government. Your aid is by no means indispensable. Do what you please; you may be strong enough to make our triumph still more brilliant by your support; you are too weak to prevent it by your opposition. [Prolonged and enthusiastic cheering.] And with equal confidence I will predict another thing. On the 9th day of November, 1864, the so-called Democratic party, as it is at present composed and constituted, with its present policy and aspirations, will have ceased to exist. [Repeated cheering.] Upon its tomb we may write the inscription “True to slavery to the last—to the jeopardy of the Union—even to suicide!” [Enthusiastic applause.] Like the bigoted widow of Hindostan, that party throws itself upon the funeral pile whose flames consume the putrid remains of its lord and master. [Great applause.]
This is no idle boast. The best of your old standard-bearers have left you in disgust, and are now working with heart and hand on our side. And not only they. The best of your rank and file are now fighting under the banner of the Union, not only with their muskets, but also with their votes. Do you not know it? You have heard the voices of the soldiers, not only as they speak in tones of thunder to the armed rebels of the South, but as they speak in triple tones of thunder to the disguised traitors of the North. [Enthusiastic cheers.] You boasted once that a large majority of the soldiers in the field came from the ranks of the Democratic party. Where are they now? The army vote, whenever it was cast, stood nine for the Union candidates to one for the opposition. Did the Democratic party, indeed, send only one in ten? I have heard it said that the soldiers' vote is no reliable indication of the soldiers' political sentiments; that the soldier votes as his officer directs him. He who says so, little knows the independent spirit of the American volunteer. [Applause.] But, if it were so, what then, pray, has become of your Democratic officers? [Laughter.] No, I will not be unjust to you. You have, indeed, sent a very large number of men from the ranks of your party into the army; and there they are, flesh of your flesh, and blood of your blood. Why, then, do those Democratic soldiers no longer vote with you? Let me say to you, that every man, to whatever party he may belong, as soon as he becomes a good Union soldier, becomes at the same time a good Union man. [Applause.]
The soldier has gone through a school which would do a world of good to most of your leading politicians. [Laughter and cheers.] His political principles have been burned clean in the red-hot crucible of battle. In the awful solemnity of those moments when death stared him in the face, and when he squared his accounts with heaven and earth, he rose to a full appreciation of the tremendous responsibility, not only of the fighting, but also of the voting citizen; then he felt clearly that his allegiance to party was nothing when in conflict with his allegiance to the great cause of his country; then, rising above all his former prejudices, he became ready to acknowledge that this Union can be restored only upon the basis of universal liberty, and that liberty does not consist in the right of one man to hold another man as property. [Great applause.] And, after having learned to understand these great truths, the soldier feels no longer tempted to betray with his vote the cause for which he is fighting with his bayonet. It appears foolish, nay, criminal to him, to shoot in one direction and vote in another. This, and no other, is the reason why the soldiers sent to the army from the ranks of your party have turned against you. [Enthusiastic applause.]
Now, go into the hospitals, Democrats, and look for your old party friends there. If you find one with only one arm, he is certainly a Union man, for he has lost the other arm when fighting for the great and free future of his country. He may no longer be strong enough to load and fire a musket, but his one arm you will find certainly strong enough to wield a ballot for Liberty and Union. [Great cheering.] If you find an old Democrat with one leg, he has certainly turned against you, for the other leg was lost in battle against the enemies of the Union. He may no longer be able to march against the rebels in arms, but his one leg is still strong enough to support him when standing up, firm as a rock, against the aiders of the rebellion in the North. [Repeated cheers.] And if the dead could vote, every one of those fallen in battle would pierce the soil with his bony hand and fling a vote of condemnation in the faces of those who, with their insidious schemes imperil the great cause for which our dead heroes have shed their precious blood. [Loud and continued cheering.]
Thus you see how strong we are; reinforced by the best elements of your own party; supported by the true instincts of the American people, and urged onward by the conscience and the pride of the nation. No, indeed, I do not demand your votes as if we needed them for our success. It is for your own sakes that I appeal to you. This great struggle will pass into history, and no man that has taken any part in it will escape the judgment of posterity. Not many years hence the American people will celebrate another great national festival besides the Fourth of July. That will be the anniversary of the day when the same hand which wrote the Emancipation Proclamation, signs another proclamation announcing to the people of this country, nay, to the nations of the earth, the restoration of the Union upon the basis of the liberty of all men. [Enthusiastic and long-continued cheering.] That day will fill the national heart with even more pride and exultation than the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence; for, while on the Fourth of July we celebrate only the starting of the great democratic experiment, on the other anniversary we shall celebrate its final and unquestionable success. And wherever there is in this wide world a friend of liberty and the rights of man struggling against the power of his enemies, and, perhaps, also against doubts within himself, on that day his heart will expand with fresh confidence, and his eye will gleam with new hope, and he will point his finger at this great consummation, and say: Let him who does not believe in the faculty of man to govern himself, look at that grand, unanswerable argument!
Democrats, did you ever think of it, how you will feel on that day? [Bursts of applause.] When, on that day, every breeze is fraught with the congratulations of mankind; when every good citizen who helped the country on in the great struggle, feels himself as great as a king; when the majesty of the Republic sits on the forehead of every patriot, where will you then hide your faces? When, on that day, your children mix their little voices with the general rejoicing, and add to the din of the jubilee the little noise of their firecrackers, what will you have to say to them? You will call them in from the street, and say: Come away, my little ones, and be still, for I had no share in this; when Union and Liberty triumphed, I belonged to the defeated party; come away from the street, for you might meet a negro boy whose father fell at Petersburg, and he would look down upon you with scorn and contempt! Yes, yes! So you will have to speak on that day. Do you feel what that means? Beware, I beseech you, beware, lest there be a day when every patriot will be proud and jubilant, and when your children will be ashamed to confess the name of their father. [Enthusiastic and long-continued applause.]
Look around you and see how great your nation is in these times of trial! If a courage which no danger can daunt; if a perseverance which no adversity can break; if a willingness to sacrifice her blood and treasure which no demand can exhaust; if a fidelity to just principles and a firmness of purpose which no threat can stagger, and no seduction can swerve, constitute a nation's claim to greatness, you search in vain the annals of the world for a people that could show a better title. And in these days of great deeds, and a great devotion, will you, can you insist upon being so small as to speak of nothing but difficulties you do not want to face; of sacrifices you do not want to make; of calls for military service you do not want to submit to; of taxes you do not want to pay? Even the rebels, detestable as is their cause, and deep as may be their sorrow and repentance when, at a future day, they look back upon the course they have run, even they will at least be able to set up a claim for that measure of esteem which is but seldom denied to courage and valor. But you! If your leaders be content to have nothing with which to propitiate the judgment of posterity but the factious selfishness of their complaints, the artful sophistries of their criticisms, and their contemptible sneers at the negro who with his blood—blood shed most freely for you as well as himself—has sealed his title to manhood and freedom,—will you be content to have nothing to plead in justification of your conduct but the passive indolence with which you followed so disgraceful a lead? Do not deceive yourselves! Even the guilty and unfortunate men who fight valiantly for what is bad, will stand before the tribunal of history in a less contemptible attitude than those who, either with cowardly malice, or with culpable thoughtlessness, strive to prevent the success of that which is good.
I entreat you to think of yourselves! As men of prudence, think of your true interests, and those of your children; they can alone be secured by a solid and lasting peace, such as will be the fruit only of an energetic and decisive war. As patriots and men of honor, think of the future of your country; it can be peaceful and prosperous only when founded upon a Union in which the spirit of justice and liberty reigns supreme, and the rights of men are held sacred. As citizens of the great Republic, think of the duty we owe to mankind; it rests with us to furnish to the world the conclusive proof, a proof as incontestable as fact can make it, that a Republic, organized on the largest scale, may have in itself elements of order and strength enough to brave the storm of rebellion and war, and to carry the liberties of the people and the security of society safe through the turmoils of internal dissension; nay, that from the terrible ordeal it may issue purified of the stains that disfigured it, relieved of the wrongs that burdened it, stronger in the affections of the people, and more formidable by the development and exercise of its power.
I repeat it, think for yourselves, and then join us in giving the nations of the earth this noble example: let the people of the United States, on the day of the national election, declare that, if the cause of Union and Liberty requires they should continue to fight, it is their own free will to give up their sons to the country and fight; if it requires they should continue to pay, it is their own free will to bear whatever burdens the struggle may bring with it, and pay; if it requires they should continue to suffer, it is their own free will to submit to whatever sacrifices, trials and hardships the cause may impose, and suffer. It is thus that the sovereignty of the people will be vindicated by the moral heroism of the people; thus this Republic, out of her greatest trial evolving her greatest triumph, will become worthy of her proud stand at the head of the century, and the flag of this country, in whatever quarter of the globe it may appear, will be hailed as a living proof of the faculty of man to govern himself. [Enthusiastic and long-continued applause.]