for public plunder. And so they stand before the rebels as humble suppliants with this ignominious appeal: “We are tired of being our own masters; come back and rule us! We are tired of our manhood; come back and degrade us! We do [not] feel well in a Union firmly established; come back and threaten us! We are eager once more to sell out the liberties and honor of the people for the sweets of public plunder; come, oh! come back and corrupt us!”
And in this disgraceful supplication they call upon a
great and noble people to join them; to join after deeds
and sacrifices so heroic, after a struggle for the Nation's
free and great future, so glorious; to join at a moment
when at last victory crowns our helmets, and when the
day of peace, bright and warm, dawns upon our dark and
bloody field. Ah, if it could be, if the Nation could so
basely forget her great past, and her greater future; if
the Nation could so wantonly denude herself of all self-respect
and shame and decency, and plunge into the mire
of this most foul prostitution; if this could be, then,
indeed, betrayed mankind could not hate us with a resentment
too deep; all future generations could not despise
us with a contempt too scorching; there would be no
outrage on the dignity of human nature in the annals of
the world for which this base surrender would not furnish
a full apology. If it could be so, then every one of your
great battles would be nothing but a mass-murder of the
first degree; the war with its ruin and desolation would
have been nothing but an act of wanton barbarism. Then
be silent of your glorious exploits, you soldiers in the field;
conceal your scars and mangled limbs, you wounded
heroes:;
you mothers and wives and sisters, who wear your
mourning with pride, hide your heads in shame—for the
triumphant rebel sits upon the graves of our dead victories,
whip in hand, and with a mocking grin laughs at the
dastardly self-degradation of his conquerors.
