learned from the history of our own days, that even Southern gentlemen will submit to evident necessity. Should we not profit by the lesson? Let us show the Southern reactionists that the loyal people who fought a four years' war for Union, liberty and equal rights, are still alive, and that they still are the same people; that they still cherish the same principles, and still march under the same flag; that no threats can frighten and no seductive allurements swerve them from the path of right. Let us show the Southern people this, by elevating upon our shields once more the very man who led us through war to victory, and who will lead us through victory to peace—and they will soon grow as tired of resisting, as after the fall of Richmond they grew tired of fighting; they will, after a little explosion of rant, submit as gracefully as General Lee surrendered at Appomattox Courthouse. The late rebels of the South may all be as brave as Lee—and yet they will submit as soon as they see that the loyal people in their righteous demands are as firm as Grant. Here, indeed, is the medicine for the sick man of the South, ready for use. It is not yet too late for a cure.
Let it not be said that this means a brutal reign of physical force. It is the application of an irresistible moral power by the imposing assertion of an unbending National will. And no fitter man than General Grant could be found to serve as its representative. Let me repeat what I said of him at the commencement of the campaign: “He knows the Southern people and they know him. They have been in rather close and lively contact, and understand one another. He has given them evidence of his unbending determination in a conflict, and of his generosity after victory. They know that when he demanded an unconditional surrender, he meant it to be unconditional; they know also that he treated the
