# Speeches of Carl Schurz/10 Peace, Liberty and Empire

See also the pamphlet at File:"For the great empire of liberty, forward!" (IA forgreatempireof00schu).pdf, where the speech is entitled For the Great Empire of Liberty, Forward!
X.
PEACE, LIBERTY AND EMPIRE.
SPEECH DELIVERED AT CONCERT HALL, PHILADELPHIA, ON THE 16TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1864.
This speech was delivered in the Presidential campaign of 1864, at the first of a series of meetings arranged by the Union League of Philadelphia. The topics discussed are still fresh in the memory of the people, and need no further explanation.
Fellow-Citizens:— In times like these, when the passing events of every day cast ever-varying lights and shadows upon our situation, when our minds are tossed from fear to hope, from despondency to exultation, and back again to doubt, it is necessary that we should now and then fix our eyes firmly upon those things and ideas which, through all the vicissitudes of the hour, must serve as immovable and permanent points of direction.
The affairs of this country have evidently arrived at a crisis. We are engaged in a war for the restoration of the Union. The Union is not yet restored, but we hear the cry of Peace. The desire of peace is not peculiar to any social division or political party—it is cherished by all. But the question, What is peace, and how is it to be restored? this is the question to be solved by a vote of the people in November. Upon this question the mind of every conscientious citizen ought to be made up, whatever events to-day or to-morrow may bring. This ques​tion once irrevocably answered by the voice of the people, the future of the country is decided for ever.
The advocates of peace we can divide into four great classes:
First. The rebels themselves; they desire peace on the basis of separation and a final dissolution of the Union.
Second. A large number of influential men in foreign countries, especially in England and France, who affect to believe that the war is hopeless on our part, and urge us to consent to peace on the basis of separation; and who also urge foreign governments to intercede for that purpose.
Third. A numerous political party in the loyal States, who advocate, partly, peace at any price; partly, the offering of concessions and compromise to the rebels; but who all express the desire that the war shall cease.
Fourth. The great Union party, who advocate peace on the basis of the restoration of the Union, and a full and complete vindication of the authority of the Government, and the employment of all the means which the object may demand.
It seems, then, that “peace” is a word of wide meaning, and before using it as a political rallying-cry, we ought to be careful to ascertain and define its true significance.
The conditions upon which the rebels offer peace we all know. It is the recognition of their independence; it is the cession of all the States originally belonging to their Confederacy, with the addition of Maryland, Kentucky, Missouri, and the District of Columbia; the cession of all the Territories west of the Confederate States to the Pacific, and probably some division of the public property in the hands of the Government at the commencement of the war. This the rebels demand. It may be doubted whether modesty is one of their virtues. They may ​indeed be expected to yield a point or two. [Applause.] Although our people seem to have made up their minds about these propositions, there are many persons abroad, and a few among us, who believe in the possibility of peace on the basis of disunion. In England there are men who seem quite amazed and indignant that we should refuse to treat upon such reasonable conditions.
Permit me a rapid glance at the two decisive questions—first, Whether a settlement can be made on that basis? and second, Whether this settlement would lead to a durable peace?
What shall be the boundary line? The Rocky Mountains would not be too high, nor the great lakes too broad, as a barrier between two powers exasperated by bitter feuds. But the only natural frontier we can find is the line of the Ohio and the Potomac. Can we concede that? South of it there are two States that remained true to the Union during the war, Kentucky and West Virginia. If we might agree to let the original seceders go, could we be base and treacherous enough to sell our friends, to deliver them helpless to the tender mercies of their mortal enemies? for the rebels hate the Union people of the Slave States more bitterly even than they hate Massachusetts. Can we abandon them? Impossible! What if the rebels do not yield that point?—if we are obliged to fight for Kentucky and West Virginia? Well, then, we can just as well fight for the whole Union; the war may go on, and there is the end of the settlement. [Applause.] But suppose the rebels agree to that territorial arrangement. Then the second question arises, Will this settlement have the necessary elements of stability? To the Confederacy it will be distasteful. As in Kentucky and West Virginia the majority stood by us, so a strong minority stood by the rebels, and the same moral obligations which bind us to the first bind them to the second. ​The result will be this: the minority in Kentucky and West Virginia will unite with the restless and reckless element in the Confederacy to precipitate the latter into warlike enterprises for the recovery of the two States, and the authorities of the Confederacy will not long be able to resist. Does this look like a solid peace? So much for the South.
But can the settlement be satisfactory or even endurable to the North? Remember that the supposed boundary lines will leave the lower course and the mouth of the Mississippi in the hands of the Confederacy. A foreign power holding the mouth of the Mississippi! In the early stages of our history it was regarded as a self-evident truth that such power must be or become our natural enemy. But if at that time, when the great Mississippi Valley was a silently brooding wilderness, it was thought that we must have the mouth of the river, because the foreign hand that held it might choke our future development, what shall we say now when the Mississippi Valley has become the garden of America, the seat of empire? The matter is hardly a fit subject for discussion. The Mississippi is the great harbor of the Gulf of Mexico; it is the Atlantic Ocean ramified thousands of miles into the heart of the Continent. [Applause.] Its great port is not New Orleans alone: it is St. Louis, it is Cincinnati, and the great cities that will spring up on the upper river and along the course of the gigantic Missouri. And the mouth of the Mississippi in the hands of a foreign power? Let it be so, and half our independence is gone. [Applause.] Indeed, freedom of commerce on the great river might be stipulated by treaty. But what of that? Will not the South, whenever any question of international dispute arises, be able to force us to any concession or to an offensive war merely by suspending the operation of the treaty, and by tightening its grasp ​upon the great outlet? Is not this as if some person were constitutionally permitted to have his grip upon your throat, able and ready, whenever he wants anything of you, to stop the circulation of your blood merely by squeezing a little? And this humiliating situation anybody expects our active, enterprising, spirited and brave people to endure? The discussion of this possibility would be a mere waste of words. The people of the United States have bought the mouth of the Mississippi, once with their money, and twice with their blood. [Great applause.] To give it away would be merely to produce the necessity of buying it a fourth time. Can the South yield it? No. Can the North do without it? No. And then?
I might go on to show how the proximity of dangerous neighbors immediately on our borders—of neighbors whose guns command our very capital, and who held the natural outlet of the most productive part of our country—would at once oblige us to be in constant readiness for attack and defence; how large standing armies would swallow up the financial resources we might otherwise devote to the payment of our national debt; how the first success of a secession movement would inevitably draw similar attempts at dismemberment after it; how the minds of the people would be continually agitated by conspiracies and treasonable enterprises; how all this would steadily undermine our liberal institutions by producing a centralization of power; how military necessity would become a standing and commanding element in our political life; and gradually transform the republic of peace into an engine of war; but it is enough.
It must be clear to every candid mind, that a settlement on the basis of disunion, far from securing a permanent peace, will be nothing but a mere temporary armistice, and must, after a short trial, produce the strengthened ​conviction in the minds of our people, that for the peace, liberty, and prosperity of the North American continent, the restoration of the Union is an absolute necessity. [Great applause] And what then? The war will be resumed. But under what circumstances! Now we fight the South alone, as a legitimate government fights a rebellious combination; then we shall have to fight a recognized, fully organized, and immensely strengthened Confederacy, with her European cotton-allies at her heels. Now we have the Mississippi; we have the most important points on the Atlantic coast; we have the great central position of East Tennessee; we have the heart of Georgia. We shall give up all this, merely for the privilege of paying every foot of that road again with our dollars and of sprinkling every inch of it again with the blood of our people! [Great applause.] O, my good friends in England and France! do you not think, after all, that while we are at it, it will be wisest and most economical for us to go through with it? You, who effect such a holy horror of war and bloodshed, do you not think, after all, that it will be a saving of blood and calamity if we persevere in a war of which we can see the end, instead of running into one that will be interminable?
Pardon me for devoting so much time to a subject upon which your convictions are settled. Such arguments may also be lost upon the peace-clamorers in France and England. But it might be well, perhaps, for them to know that we can see no peace but in Union, and that their efforts to persuade us to the contrary will indeed fail of their object, but will certainly confirm us in the suspicion that they may love peace well, but would love the permanent dismemberment of this Republic better. [Applause.]
Peace with disunion being impossible, it is necessary, then, if for the sake of peace alone, that the Union should be restored. And how can it be restored? Either by the ​voluntary or the forced submission of the rebels to the lawful authority of the government. This leads us to the third class of peace-makers. There is a party among us which pretends that it can secure the voluntary submission of the rebels, and thus restore peace. Its policy is defined by the following resolution adopted by its National Convention:
“Resolved, That this Convention does explicitly declare as the sense of the American people, that after four years of failure to restore the Union by the experiment of war, during which, under the pretense of a military necessity or war-power higher than the Constitution, the Constitution itself has been disregarded in every part, and public liberty and private right alike trodden down, and the material prosperity of the country essentially impaired, justice, humanity, liberty, and the public welfare demand that immediate efforts be made for a cessation of hostilities, with a view to an ultimate Convention of all the States, or other peaceable means, to the end that, at the earliest practicable moment, peace may be restored on the basis of the Federal Union of the States.”
This policy is to be practically carried out if that party should be intrusted with the powers of the government, of which it seems rather confident, inasmuch as it explicitly declares “that such is the sense of the American people.” I apprehend “the American people” will claim the privilege of thinking about this matter, and will explicitly declare their sense in due time. [Great applause and laughter.]
The resolution contains two positive and definite, and one rather indefinite proposition. The two definite propositions are these: First, that the experiment of war as a means of restoring the Union is a failure—this is a clear and positive statement—and second, that immediate efforts must be made for a cessation of hostilities. This ​is positive also, and, as a sequence of the first proposition, cannot mean anything else but that the experiment of war must be stopped and abandoned. Here ends the clear and positive part of the programme. The third, indefinite proposition, is, that the war must be stopped “with a view to an ultimate Convention of all the States, or other peaceable means,” etc. Mark the words, “with a view to;” this looks to a future period not yet determined, and is rather foggy.
The first two propositions can be carried into effect by the Democratic party, if it should be the sense of the American people to place that party in power. It can declare, and to make good its declaration, it can make the war a failure; and it can also stop the war. But the carrying out of the third proposition requires the co-operation of Jefferson Davis and the rebellious people of the seceded States. A Convention of the loyal States the Democratic party can have, but a Convention of all the States, with a view to the restoration of peace on the basis of the Federal Union, cannot be had, unless such be the sense of Jefferson Davis and the States in rebellion. And if such be not the sense of Jefferson Davis and the Southern Confederacy, what then? That the Chicago platform saith not. But this is just the point the American people should like to know. This is no idle question; it is just the question upon which the whole matter hinges. For, mark you well, the resolution does not say: “We demand a cessation of hostilities on condition that a Convention of all the States, or some other peaceable means, by which the Union can be restored be agreed to; if not, we shall continue the war;” but the demand of a cessation is positive on the ground that the experiment of war has proved a failure; the war is to be stopped on the demand of justice, humanity, liberty, and the public welfare, with a view to something that may or may not happen. I ask ​again, What if it does not happen? What if Jefferson Davis takes your cessation of hostilities with a view to laugh at your Convention and other peaceable means to restore the Union? And this he is most likely, nay, almost certain to do, for peace without the condition of reunion is just what he wants, and a Convention and reunion is just what he does not want. Well, what then? Will you tacitly acquiesce in the establishment of the Southern Confederacy? How can you, since you tell us that yon are faithful to the Union? Or will you resume the war? How can you, since you declare that the experiment of war has proved a failure, and that “justice, humanity, liberty, and the public welfare” demand its cessation? What, then, in the name of common sense, will you do? Here we look upon a jumble of contradictions so glaring that our heads begin to reel, and we wonder how it could happen to the whole wisdom of a great party in solemn Convention assembled to hatch out so bottomless an absurdity. [Laughter and applause.]
The gentlemen who come with so amazing a proposition before the country will, indeed, tell us that Jefferson Davis and his people may agree to terms of peace on the basis of the Union. Pray, where did they obtain their information? We have some means of ascertaining the sentiments of the rebel government and of those men who make public opinion in that part of the country. We have the official enunciations of their chiefs; we have the sayings of their public speakers; we have their public papers; we have a large quantity of information from private sources published in the newspapers of our States. All these things are before the people; everybody that has eyes may see, and that has ears may hear them. And now I appeal to any man that has kept the run of the times, did he ever see or hear the least indication of a willingness on the part of the rebel government or their ​leading men even to consider the proposition of a Convention or other peaceable means looking to the restoration of peace on the basis of reunion? Is it true or not, that public sentiment in rebeldom, as far as we have means of knowing it, may be fairly summed up in what one of their newspapers said, that, if we presented to them a white sheet of paper with the signatures of our authorities at the bottom of it, on which they, the rebels, might write their own conditions of reunion, they would scorn to accept it? Do we not hear this repeated daily in numberless variations? Did they not ridicule and vilify in the most contemptuous manner certain Northern Democrats who pretended that they could negotiate a reunion on the basis of a compromise?
But this is not the only test of the matter. The rebels know full well that any offer of terms on their part, nay, the mere indication in the press of a willingness on their part to come back, would materially contribute to increase and inflame the divisions now existing among us; they know that a half-way offer of a compromise would be a good stroke of policy for them; and now, did you ever hear any one of their public men who could speak with anything like authority, admit even the idea that such a thing was possible? Why, even the celebrated peace-adventurers at Niagara Falls, who certainly meant mischief and nothing but mischief, said in their final winding-up letter that they had not the remotest intention of entertaining any proposition looking to reunion. And they and their friends in the North might certainly have made capital out of such a thing. And even Mr. Benjamin, in his late dispatch to Mr. Mason, while evidently laboring to give his Northern friends as much comfort as possible, could not refrain from stating most emphatically that the recognition of the independence of the Confederacy was a condition sine quâ non for all peace nego​tiations. Why is this? Because a public man of standing in the Confederacy cannot afford even to appear friendly to the idea of reunion under any circumstances. And yet, in the face of all this, with all this evidence before them, knowing all this, the men of the Chicago Convention dare to hold out to the American people the promise that the rebels will agree to a Convention of all the States or other peaceable means by which the Union can be restored. And upon an hypothesis so wild, upon an assumption so wilful, an assumption so completely without the least shadow of a foundation, they advise us to stop the war with a view to a thing they know they cannot effect. They dare to advise you to incur all the disadvantages a cessation of hostilities would involve for a chance which they themselves do not believe in!
This is more than absurdity; or, if you will still call it so, this absurdity is a symptom of something else than a mere confusion of ideas; it speaks of purposes that dare not avow themselves; of designs that need a disguise; of schemes that shun the light. [Applause.] Well might the open allies of the rebellion among as, the Vallandighams, the Longs, the Woods, the Seymours, the Harrises, the Pendletons, cast their votes for such a resolution; for a virtual abandonment of the war without a condition sine quâ non, only with a view to a thing which, as they must know, will never be effected in this way, what else can it lead to than a tacit recognition of Southern independence? I understand the satisfaction with which open rebel sympathizers look upon their work; they indeed did take a candidate not their first choice, but they endeavored to gag and bind him, mouth and hand and foot, and although they could not defeat him by placing him upon such a platform, they have at least disgraced him. [Applause.] But what I cannot understand is, that those who indeed desire peace, but also sincerely believe in the neces​sity of restoring the Union, should permit themselves to be taken in by so clownish a juggle, by so transparent a fraud. It is for them that I will discuss the matter in its whole length and breadth.
Suppose, then, the party which passed this resolution is raised to power. The first official act to which it stands pledged by its platform will be to propose to Jefferson Davis an immediate cessation of hostilities. The proud Southron, at once recognizing his old friends, will forthwith remember that they stand pledged to stop the war, because they consider it a failure; to stop it in the name of justice and the public welfare. He will at once feel himself, and in fact be, master of the situation. Knowing all this, he will say: “Certainly, hostilities shall be stopped; ‘you have only to negotiate with me as the head of an independent Confederacy (see Benjamin’s letter); you have only to withdraw your armies from Southern soil; you have only to take away your navy from Southern ports; you have only to raise the blockade of our coast, and hostilities are stopped. Then you will have to dismiss the negro soldiers from your military service; and as to the matter with a view to which you propose to cease hostilities, we will see about that ‘at the first practicable moment.’”
I am at once met by an outcry from the Democratic side: “We shall never do that—never!” You will not? Are you not the same men who pledged yourselves in the Chicago platform to stop the war, because it was a failure—to stop it on the score of justice, humanity, liberty, and the public welfare, merely with a view to a thing which, as you well know, will never happen, unless the rebels be forced to it—and now cry War! war that is a failure, war that is against justice and what all? But, you say, we did not mean it so. Why, then, did you say it so? [Laughter.] But do you really know what you will do? Let me see ​who you are, and I will tell you what you are capable of doing. You are the same men who, from 1848 to 1860, went the whole disgraceful way from the Wilmot Proviso to the Lecompton Constitution, from free-soil to the forcing of slavery upon free soil, protesting at every stopping-place, by all that is good and great, that you would not go a single step farther. [Laughter and great applause.] And you will have us believe that you are not going to do this or that! Did you know what you were going to do when you went into the Chicago Convention? How many of you are there who would not have sworn upon their sacred honor that they would never vote for a resolution like that which was passed—and did they not do it? I tell you in the face of your protestations and those of your candidate, you permit yourselves once to be infatuated with the idea that you can coax and buy the rebels back into the Union by concession, and whatever they may ask of you, you will do it, for it is only the first step that costs—and surely, Jefferson Davis will not spare you, for his foot is too familiar with the necks of his old Northern friends. [Great applause.] The old silly cry, “Do not irritate the South! do not irritate it by the blockade! do not irritate it by the armed negroes!” [laughter], will again have its old sway; your desires and delusive hopes will give birth to the most obsequious schemes, and soon you will be in a state of mind of which it will be difficult to say where folly ends and where treason begins.
Still, I will give you the full benefit of your protestations. I might describe the ruinous effect, the temporary withdrawal of our armies, or even the temporary raising of the blockade, would have upon the future chances of the war; how hundreds of French and English vessels would fly into Savannah and Wilmington with arms, and ammunition, and clothing, and railroad iron, ​and machinery, and other things handy to have: how those ships would fly out again loaded with cotton; how, upon the value of that cotton, the Confederate loan would find new buyers, and their wretched finances would look up; how the whole fighting capacity of the South would receive a new and tremendous impulse. I might describe all that, but I will forbear.
There are two measures, which, in case of their accession to power, the Chicago party would most certainly execute. Victims to that most ridiculous of all mental diseases, the negrophobia, they would dismiss our two hundred thousand negro soldiers; and yielding to that most pernicious of all passions, demagogism, they would give up the idea of a conscription. Would they not? I dare any one of their public men, I dare their candidate, I dare the most bellicose of their partisans—I dare them to say that they will not do so. And the consequences? With one hand they will deplete and weaken the army, and with the other they will throw away the means of filling it up and strengthening it. Take two hundred thousand negro soldiers from the garrisons and posts they are guarding, take two hundred thousand white soldiers from Atlanta and Petersburg to fill the places left vacant by the negroes, and I call upon any military authority in this country to say: Will it, or will it not, he impossible for our two great armies, under Grant and Sherman, to hold the field?
“Retreat! retreat!” would be the cry; and it is, perhaps, with a view to this contingency that the Chicago Convention has selected its distinguished candidate. [Long-continued applause.] Do not speak of rapidly filling the vacuum with new recruits; for you give up the conscription, and I apprehend your friends in Indiana and Illinois and Ohio, your Sons of Liberty, and American Knights, will be rather slow to rush to the field with ​their imported revolvers. [Laughter.] Far from being able to strengthen our army, you will rather weaken, dishearten, and demoralize what remains of it. The soldiers witnessing with disgust these senseless and ruinous proceedings, suspicion and distrust would creep into the ranks, and the brave boys would lose half of their strength by losing their confidence and faith.
And then, indeed, the “cessation of hostilities” would acquire a new aspect. Unable to keep the field, far from being able to offer an armistice, you might find yourselves obliged to approach the rebel chief hat in hand to beg for one; and surely, if he should have the contemptuous magnanimity to grant it, he would hardly spare your feelings with his conditions. Is that the cessation of hostilities you desire? It is certainly the cessation of hostilities the rebels desire. This kind of armistice will at least have one advantage; it will save you the trouble of discussing what conditions you will or will not propose. The rebels will take that trouble off your hands. [Laughter and applause.] But, seriously and soberly speaking, I deem the opposition of the Woods and Vallandighams to the Chicago nominee a most rash and ill-advised movement; for, if they let him only act upon the general idiosyncrasies, the common prejudices and impulses of the party, he will as certainly and safely ruin the prospects of the war as they themselves could do with their ingeniously devised cessation of hostilities, which offers to the rebels that which they desire, together with the privilege of refusing that which we desire. The one is a military way of doing it, the other a civil one; the one is “strategy,” the other diplomacy; and I candidly think the difference is not worth quarrelling about. At all events, it would be well for the peace men to set a ​good example by keeping peace among themselves. [Laughter and applause.]
But I will follow the advocates of the Chicago peace platform into the farthest recesses of their argument, which we find, not in their resolutions, but in their papers.
They tell us, that while the rebel government is for war, the Southern people are for peace; and that we therefore must appeal from the rebel government to the Southern people. Certainly a good idea. But how carry it out? The number of peace men in the South is undoubtedly large. They may fairly he divided into two classes: first, Secessionists on principle, who are for peace only because they are tired of the war; and second, Union men on principle, who are for peace on the basis of reunion. These two classes undoubtedly comprise a large number of people, but probably not strong enough to control the rebel government; for if they are strong enough to do so, why do they not do it? Our Chicago men say we must strengthen them. Certainly, but how?
Why do the secessionists who are for peace offer no effective opposition to the rebel government? Because, though indeed sick of the war, they would like to have separation along with peace. Then it is evident they are not yet tired enough of the war. The remedy is simple. We must carry on the war with such terrible energy as to make all rebeldom tremble and shake. That will make them so tired of the war, that after a little while they will only be too happy to make peace at any price. Is not this clear? [Applause.] Now for the Union men in the rebel States. There are undoubtedly many of them; all the blacks and a large number of whites. Why do they not exercise any decisive influence in rebeldom. Because the rebel government is too strong for them, and keeps them down. What is the remedy? It is simple. We must break the strength of the rebel government by deal​ing it as heavy blows as we can strike. That will give the Union men air to breathe, and freedom of action. Is not this common sense? [Applause.]
But how the secessionists who are tired of the war can be made Unionists by stopping the war for humanity's sake; or how we can aid the Union men, who cannot stir, because the rebel government is too strong for them, by giving the same rebel government a chance to become still stronger—that, I suspect, it will take tho whole logic and eloquence in Chicago Convention assembled to make intelligible to an intelligent people. [Great laughter and applause.]
The whole wisdom of the intricate peace policy of the Chicago party may be fairly summed up as follows: You are struggling with a highwayman who has robbed you of your valuables. You are stronger than he, and about to overcome him. Suddenly you stop, and say: “Now, my good fellow, I will struggle no longer; I see it is a failure on my part; to struggle longer would be against justice, humanity, and our common welfare; I let you go, with a view to meet you again, and to persuade you to give me back, at the most practicable moment, what you have stolen.” Is not this Bedlam? [Tremendous laughter and applause.]
But now I arrive at a feature of this business which places its true character in still clearer light. It is well known that some of the leading powers of Europe, with whom we are in most immediate contact, affect to believe in, because they desire, the final dissolution of this Republic. Whatever motives you may assign for this fact—the competition growing from our spirit of commercial enterprise, jealousy of our constantly growing strength, hatred of our republican institutions—call it what you will, the fact is too thinly disguised to escape recognition. Still, I wish you to understand, in speaking of the tendencies of ​some of the political and commercial interests of England and France, it is far from me to cast a slur upon the noble masses of those countries; for I sincerely believe the cause of universal liberty in this country has no truer friends abroad than they are. [Great applause.]
At present, the so-called Confederacy is a mere association of political bodies engaged in a rebellion against their legitimate Government. They are, indeed, recognized as belligerents, but not admitted into the family of nations as an independent and equal member. Foreign powers, however desirous of making separation permanent, yet hesitate to enter into open relations and co-operation with the Confederacy; first, because our Government maintains with firmness the justice of our cause, and its inflexible resolution to bring back the rebellious States; and, secondly, because the stigma of slavery rests upon the rebellion, and European governments have some respect for public opinion in their own countries, and for the enlightened judgment of mankind. But is it reasonable to suppose that they will refrain from doing so when they have a plausible pretext? They would, no doubt, be most glad to see us do for them what they are ashamed to do for themselves. As you, in times gone by—and I hope gone by for ever—were required to do for the slaveholder the dirty work he deemed below his dignity to do for himself—catch his runaways—so foreign powers would rather like you to perform for them a hardly cleaner work, which they themselves feel much delicacy about—recognize as an independent power a Confederacy founded upon the corner-stone of slavery. [Great applause] “Oh!” you say, “they will have to wait for that.” Will they, indeed? Here is the Chicago platform, declaring explicitly as the sense of the American people that the war is a failure, and must be stopped. The war declared a failure in the eyes of the whole world; and not only that, but that ​it must be stopped on the score of “justice, humanity, liberty, and the public welfare.” And this you cry into the ears of England and France, who merely wait to hear you say so! Have not our enemies in those countries always advocated the recognition of the Confederacy on the ground that the war, on our part, was hopeless, unjust, inhuman, tyrannical, and ruinous? With what delight the London Herald and the London Times will hail this declaration! With what triumph they will point to it! Is it not admitting all, all they have been contending for—hopelessness, injustice, inhumanity, tyranny, ruin, all? And now, if the American people should be so lost to all sense of shame and decency as to endorse this declaration at a National election, with what face will you stand up before England and France, and ask them not to recognize the Confederacy? If this war is indeed what you affirm—a failure, and hopeless, unjust, inhuman, and ruinous—would it not he an act of mercy, of justice, of humanity, to step in and stop it? And do you not, by this most infamous declaration, invite them to do so? I will prove to you that this is no mere offspring of my imagination. Some time ago, Lord Lyons wrote to his Government an official dispatch, in which the following passage occurred:
“Several of the leaders of the Democratic party sought interviews with me, both before and after the arrival of the intelligence of Gen. McClellan's dismissal. The subject uppermost in their minds, while they were speaking to me, was naturally that of foreign mediation between North and South. Many of them seemed to think that this mediation must come at last; but they appeared to be afraid of its coming too soon. It was evident that they apprehended that a premature proposal of foreign intervention would afford the Radical party a means of reviving the violent war spirit, and thus of defeating the powerful plans of the Conservatives. They appeared to ​regard the present moment as peculiarly unfavorable for such an offer, and, indeed, to hold that it would be essential to the success of any proposal from abroad that it should be deferred until the control of the Executive Government should be in the hands of the Conservative party.”
So far Lord Lyons.
Foreign powers having at last found and seized upon a pretext for officially meddling with our difficulties, such as your invitation would give them—and, indeed, remembering Lord Lyons's significant despatch, this seems to be part of the Chicago programme—we shall see the working of a new agency in the affairs of this continent; an agency which, fortunately, was unknown to us as long as the country was one; and that agency is foreign influence.
The same reasons for which England and France desired the breaking up of this Union, the same reasons will also impel them to do all they can to make separation permanent, and the whole of their influence, powerful as it will be—for the Confederacy will necessarily lean upon her European friends—will be thrown against reunion. That influence will indeed be powerful, for it will not extend to the Government, but it will at once run through all the channels of trade. And now is there anybody credulous enough to believe, that against such fearful odds you can carry out the timid scheme with a view to which you mean to stop the war? Foreign influence, once admitted, as it will be by this policy, will have the casting vote in all that pends between us and the South. We shall not have two great powers on this continent, but four, and all but one bitterly against reunion. Divide and rule, is the old saying; but not those will rule that are divided. [Applause.] Whatever our ultimate decision may be after such developments, whether to resume the war at once, or to acquiesce in separation, and then, after a short breathing spell, launch into the confusion of a new conflict, there ​is one thing certain: we shall find the South so immensely strengthened, that, if for a people like ours any task could be hopeless, this would be hopeless indeed.
And in the same measure as the South will be strengthened by this Chicago policy, so we shall be weakened. I have already alluded to the demoralization and disintegration of our military strength by its effect. But that is not all.
At present the enlightened opinion of the liberal masses of Europe is on our side. That opinion may in a crisis prove strong enough to bridle the action of governments. How can we expect that opinion to be true to us, if we are treacherous to ourselves? With what face can we demand its generous support, if we confess a failure and throw doubt upon the justice and humanity of our own cause? You have heard of the people of Germany pouring their gold lavishly into the treasury of the United States. [Applause.] You have heard of a loan of a thousand millions having been offered, and being now in progress of negotiation. Would those people who are standing by us so generously in our embarrassments, would they have done so, if they did not trust in our ability and determination to carry through the war? And now they are told by a party that boast of being about to grasp the reins of government, that the war is a failure, and being a failure, and being unjust, inhumane, and ruinous, must be given up. You, who are so clamorous about the condition of our Treasury, do you call that raising our credit abroad, do you call that helping our finances out of a distressed condition? Truly, if it were your avowed object to reduce the Government to total impotency for want of means, to render the nation incapable of a vigorous movement, to lay it prostrate in utter helplessness at the feet of its enemies, your means could not be more judiciously chosen, you could not operate with more infernal acuteness. [Great applause.]
​We may ask ourselves: How is it possible that a policy so utterly absurd, reckless, and pernicious should find any supporters among men whose sound sense and patriotism are not completely extinguished? I find the reason in a vague impression, here and there prevailing, that the Union and universal good feeling may be restored by a policy of conciliation and compromise. I find it in the generous impulses of magnanimous hearts, which insist that those who are conquered and brought to terms, should be re-attached to us by a kind and forbearing treatment. There is no man in this country who would be less inclined than I to listen to the promptings of vengeance and resentment. But while we are willing to act with a sincere desire to heal all wounds by generous accommodation, do you not see, that before we find a field for that magnanimity in offering terms to the conquered, the rebels must first be conquered and brought to terms? [Applause.] And do you not further see, that if we follow the Chicago policy, the chance is rather that the rebels will be masters of the situation and bring us to terms? Still, as the feeling I speak of is vague and indefinite, and may make itself heard independently of the Chicago platform, I will say a word on compromise in its general aspect,
A compromise with the rebellion offered on our part, would necessarily contain two conditions: first, an abandonment of some essential point determined by the national election of 1860, for that was the occasion on which the rebels seceded; and secondly, the stipulation that the rebels shall give up the struggle and return to their allegiance. Every sensible man who has his eyes open, knows that the rebels will certainly reject a compromise containing the second stipulation as long as they entertain any hope of achieving their independence. The question arises: Would it be good policy to offer the first, even by way of experiment?
​I have already said enough to make it evident that as long as the rebels have confidence in their ability to win ultimate success, they will insist on their terms and not think of accepting ours. We must therefore shake that confidence. How shake it? By a display of superior power, and an inflexible determination to carry on the struggle to the bitter end. That will make them count the cost and consider. But what if we show signs of a flagging spirit, of a shaky determination? What if we act as if we had lost our assurance of our ability to achieve success in the game of war? They will take new hope and courage. And is not an offer of a compromise, that is, an offer to abandon some essential point determined in the election of 1860, an indication of a flagging and uncertain spirit. The matter resolves itself into this: The rebels will not think of accepting a compromise, until their prospects are so obscured and their power so reduced, that they would be obliged to submit without it. Thus it will be no mare difficult to beat them into submission, than it will be to beat them into compromise; and that accomplished, the compromise will be superfluous. But the offer of a compromise before that point is reached, will be not only superfluous but dangerous; for by giving evidence of a flagging of our own spirits, it will bring new courage and hope to the rebels, and thus prolong the struggle and postpone the moment when a settlement can be effected. [Applause.]
But this is not all. I contend that a compromise in our case, even if it could be effected, would be utterly inadmissible as a measure of peace. [Great applause.]
The word compromise has acquired a certain traditional prestige in our political history, so that many people pronounce it with a singular superstitional awe, and think nothing is done well that is not done by compromise. It is said that the Constitution is founded on ​compromise—and so it is. But there is one thing in the Constitution, which is not founded upon compromise, which does not admit of any compromise, which is, in the very nature of things, absolute and imperative. It is the principle, that, when the will of the majority upon a question constitutionally subject to be decided by the majority, is once expressed and proclaimed in a Constitutional form, the minority is absolutely and unconditionally bound to submit. [Applause.] There is no cavilling about this principle. It is the very foundation of all republican government; without it the whole republican edifice would at once tumble down as a chaotic, shapeless mass. It is the balance-wheel of the whole machinery. The observance of this principle is the fundamental obligation of the citizen. Every measure of policy may be subject to compromise, but this fundamental obligation is not. It can be bound to no conditions, for if it were, it would cease to be absolute.
Apply this to our case. A Constitutional election was held in 1860. All Constitutional reqnirements were strictly fulfilléd. Abraham Lincoln received a Constitutional majority of the votes; he was made President in a strictly Constitutional manner. And because the majority which elected him entertained certain opinions of public policy obnoxious to a minority, that minority rose in rebellion against the Government. You now propose to buy that rebellions minority back by relinquishing some of the principles held by the majority. You do this, because the minority has risen up in arms against the Constitutionally expressed will of the majority, In other words, you, the majority, confess yourselves so far conquered, as you are willing to surrender part of the decision of the ballot-box to the force of arms. And thus far you declare the fundamental obligation of submission to the Constitutional verdict of the majority not binding; the minority, if it ​please, may force the majority to surrender the whole or part of its will. It may do so, for it has succeeded in doing so. The new principle you introduce into our political life is this: the minority is bound by the Constitutional verdict of the majority, unless it be strong enough to force the majority to concessions; then it is not bound; that is to say, elections are not finally decided at the ballot-box, but are afterward open to negotiation; the minority proposes its conditions of submission to the result, and the fighting party wins. Do you know what that means? It means the transformation of the Republic of the United States into something like the old Republics of Mexico and South America; it means the government of revolutionary factions, instead of Constitutional majorities; it means the introduction of rebellion as a standing element in our political life. [Great applause.]
Do not accuse me of seeing spectres. Do not indulge in the vain illusion that this first great abandonment of the fundamental obligation will remain an isolated fact. Such precedents are prolific. Let it be once known that the Constitutional majority can and may be forced to concessions, and the idea will have an irresistible charm to reckless and restless minds. The composition of our people will no longer be what it was heretofore. The end of the war will throw a fearful number of adventurous spirits upon society, ready, at the call of an audacious leader, at any hour, to overleap the bounds of the accustomed order of things. Warlike habits, added to their warlike tastes, will stimulate them to wild enterprises, and a ceaseless war of factions would be to them an all too welcome field of adventure. This is the material, and you know where to look for the leaders. Already, at this moment, the country is teeming with unscrupulous demagogues, with whom treasonable scheming has become a habit; already we hear of large importations of arms and ammunition, ​and their distribution among the members of secret organizations; already we see in the papers threats of armed resistance to the loyal majority, in case certain candidates are defeated. And would you be willing to open this flood-gate of disorder by setting aside the only principle, the great fundamental obligation, that keeps democratic government in balance? You would inaugurate a system, which, by compromise and concession, pays and promises a premium to revolt? Is it not astonishing indeed that among men who have such a material stake in social order, as merchants and manufacturers, we should find so many advocates of that fatal policy? And this, they vainly imagine, would lead to peace. The sanctioned violation of the great principle which alone can maintain internal peace, should lead to peace? Is the peace of Mexico and the South American Republics the peace you want? Is a condition of things which will make a revolt as familiar an occurrence as a national election—is that the peace you desire? This, then, is compromise as a peace measure; if it remains a mere experimental offer, encouragement of the rebels and prolongation of the war; if carried into effect, breaking down the great safeguard of social order, and inaugurating an interminable war of factions, but no peace. [Great applause.]
And now give me leave to sum up what I have said about the peace programme of Chicago.
In proposing that the war shall be stopped without making this proposition depend upon any peremptory condition, merely with a view to a thing which everybody knows will not be agreed to, it encourages the rebels to persevere in their resistance.
The result will be, either that the Government, if it falls into the hands of that party, will have to recognize the independence of the Southern Confederacy, or, after a cessation of hostilities, to resume the war.
​If it recognizes the independence of the Southern Confederacy, we shall soon have on our hands the complicated and endless wars, which, in the very nature of things, must grow out of disunion.
If the Government, after a cessation of hostilities, resumes the present war for the Union, we shall labor under difficulties immensely greater than at present, for three reasons:
1st. From a cessation of hostilities, such as proposed, the rebels will derive such advantages, and we such disadvantages, that the struggle will be almost hopeless; and still, as peace is impossible with disunion, it will be as necessary as ever.
2d. By declaring before the whole world that the war is a failure; by demanding its cessation on the score of justice, humanity, liberty, and the public welfare; by thus declaring the rebels in the right, and our Government in the wrong; and by thus condemning and virtually abandoning the war for the Union, they invite foreign powers to recognize the rebel Confederacy, and to throw their whole influence against an unjust, inhuman, tyrannical, and universally ruinous war.
3d. By making the foregoing declarations, they turn public opinion in foreign countries against us, and discourage the movements now going on to give us financial aid; and all this while it is certain—and they make it more so—that the war must either be continued after a useless cessation, or be resumed at a more or less distant period.
And, finally, by implicitly advocating a policy of concession to armed rebellion, they propose to set aside the fundamental obligation of submission to the Constitutional will of the majority, to remove the only guarantee of order in democratic life, to pay a premium to revolt, ​and thus to open the flood-gates of civil disorder, and a turbulent and endless war of factions.
This is the programme—these its immediate and inevitable results. And the men who thus attempt to create new complications, to increase the difficulties, and thus immensely to aggravate the calamities of war—these men dare to call themselves friends of peace? What! have they not had bloodshed enough, that they want to make this war interminable? Is not the rebellion strong enough, that they want to add to its strength all the aid in money, arms, and material, that foreign friendship can give? Are not our enemies numerous enough, that they want to engage for them the aid of foreign governments? Is not our financial condition embarrassed enough, that they want to stop those resources which open themselves for us abroad? Have we so many friends in the world, that they want to ruin us in the opinion of mankind? What! are they not satiated yet with ruin and desolation? Will it take the sacrifice of new and countless hecatombs of men, the sacrifice of the fruits of another half-century of sweat and toil, to give them their fill? And these men have the brazen front to demand your votes, pretending that they will give you peace! You have heard of shore-pirates who set out false lights by night on the shore of the ocean when the weather is thick and stormy, to deceive and draw on the distressed mariner into the fatal breakers, and then to plunder the ship in pretending to save it. Take heed, Americans, and beware! Trust not this light of peace! his light is false! There is no harbor behind it, nothing but rocks, reefs, breakers, shipwreck, and ruin! [Great applause.]
Such is their cry of peace. But what shall we say of their patriotism? Patriotism, and that platform! If the rebel emissaries at Niagara Falls alone had made it—for they certainly had their share in making it—if the friends ​of the rebels in England had made it—that we might understand. But that American citizens—sons of the great and happy Free States—should have made this—can that be conceived by a true American heart?
That platform, and patriotism! Show me the man who hates us most, he will like it best! Show me the bitterest enemy of this Republic, he will crave a chance to vote for it! Show me the vilest villain in all rebeldom, who never prayed before; he will sink upon his knees and pray for its success! [Loud cheers and applause.]
When we want to designate all that was humiliating to our patriotic pride, all that was ruinous to the honor and safety of the Union, all that was contemptible and dastardly and treacherous in the conduct of our public affairs; if we want to designate all this with one name, we call it James Buchanan. [Laughter and applause.]
We thought the period in our history which is represented by that name, was finally absolved; we thought it might be consigned to oblivion, as it was consigned to shame. But, alas! although Buchanan is dead and buried, those who indulged in the soothing delusion that such a man could leave no progeny, find themselves mistaken. Behold, a whole brood of young Buchanans has risen up and met in convention at Chicago. [Continued laughter.] The laurels of their father do not let them sleep. I see again the cunning twinkle of the eye, I see the white necktie again [great laughter]; they try to adjust it like a halter around the throat of the Republic, to throttle her to death. [Continued cheers.] Truly, the sons are greater than the sire. For what he did, we may say he did as a weak old man, whose life had been spent in a constant exercise of his knee-joints; and who, when the rebellion first raised its Gorgon-head, had neither the firmness of a patriot, nor the courage of a traitor. But what they do, they do after thousands of noble men have ​stained the battlefields of their country with their precious blood; after the people have poured out their money like water to save the Republic; after our invincible navy has battered down the Southern forts, and is commanding the Southern waters; they do it when the hero of Vicksburg is thundering at the gates of Richmond; when our viclorious flag waves over the ramparts of Atlanta, and Victory is the cry! [Long-continued cheering.] Ah! poor old man, hide thy head in shame, for thou canst no longer claim such proud pre-eminence in baseness. There are those that are greater than thou, and whose vaulting ambition laughs thy iniquity to scorn. Those are the men who made that platform! [Tremendous applause.]
And upon that platform they placed a soldier by profession as their candidate—a General who once commanded the armies of this Republic. Was there ever a man more cruelly insulted by his friends? Was there ever irony more cutting. A General nominated for the Presidency for the distinct purpose of trading away other generals’ victories! A soldier appointed to make the successes of other soldiers useless! And he did not resent it by flinging platform and nomination into the faces of those who had made it, without losing a single moment! Alas! he did not. He waited. He endured this most outrageous insult—this mortal offence—without saying a word! Meanwhile murmurs of indignation arose, like a black cloud, from the army, against him who was once their commander; from every corner of the country cries of anger and contempt burst forth against the infamous Chicago surrender. But that was not all. A thrill of joy and enthusiasm flashed the heart of the nation when the word came: “Atlanta is ours!” And, then, surrender! [Loud applause.”]
But then, at last, when the promptings of prudence ​came to the aid of the voice of just resentment—then he spurned the platform, and he scorned to be the candidate of the men that made it, and of the party that adopted it? Oh! no. For him, I regret to say, the opportunity for showing the metal of a great character was lost. He chose a middle way. He did not repudiate, nor did he approve, but he ignored the platform and took the nomination. This has, at least, the charm of novelty. The candidate wrote a skilfully worded political letter, showing that the art, How not to say it, can be brought to as high a degree of perfection as the art, How not to do it. [Laughter and cheers.] It is upon record, But that was not the first political letter of his life. The General had written one about a year ago, before he was a candidate. That letter was endorsing the principles and advocating the election of Judge Woodward to the Governorship of Pennsylvania. And that letter is on record, too. Who was Judge Woodward? You know better than I can tell you, that he went as far as any of the class called peace-copperheads dared to go; peace at any price, surrender, and all. And when was this letter endorsing such principles written? The circumstances are significant. We had just then suffered a very disastrous defeat at the battle of Chickamauga; our Western army was in a most critical situation; in Virginia the campaign had come to a complete stand-still; the affairs of the country looked dark. And then the General endorsed the principles and advocated the election of a peace-man. This is most interesting for the people to remember. Thus we know how he is capable of speaking after a defeat. This gives us the advantage, since he has now somewhat changed his tune after a victory, to conclude with safety how he is likely to speak in case of a defeat again. It is far from me to insinuate that the General was dishonest in writing his war-letter; nor was he dishonest in writing his letter for the ​peace-man. He means what he says now; he meant what he said then. The General is a gentleman, and I sincerely believe he was honest both times. [Laughter and applause.] But this kind of honesty is a fair indication of the policy we may look for from that quarter. While I detest that sort of peace-spirit, I am afraid of that sort of war-spirit. And this is the war-spirit of a party which deemed it necessary to postpone its Convention from the Fourth of July to the twenty-ninth of August, to give events time to develop themselves, and to shape their policy accordingly. [Cheers.]
For peace when the horizon of the country is gloomy, and for war when it is bright! Is that the kind of patriotism we want? This fair-weather patriotism, which is ready to give up the country in the hour of misfortune, although it makes a show of standing by the country in the hour of success? And upon that shifting sandhill you will build the future of the Republic? [Great cheering.] What, if to-morrow an untoward accident should overtake our armies; will it stand the test, or will it give up the country again? Remember, that it is in the hour of gloom and despondency that the country stands most in need of the unswerving devotion of her sons! [Loud applause.] Give me the man, who, in storm as well as in sunshine, amidst the cries of distress as well as the jubilee of victory, will stand by the cause of his country with a faith unshaken, with a courage undismayed, with a purpose unbending, and him I will call a patriot; but not him whose firmness depends upon the revolutions of the wheel of fortune! [Enthusiastic cheering.]
And this kind of firmness will have to stand a singular test. We shall have the alarming spectacle of an honest, but not altogether inflexible, character in very bad company. There is no American who does not know that a President’s policy is not made by him alone, but by those ​who made him; and there is no American who will forget that the strength of the vote which nominated this candidate at Chicago was far exceeded by the unanimity with which the platform was adopted. And now ignore the platform, and take the nomination? In ancient tales we read of men who, in order to enjoy all the good things of the world, pledged their souls to the devil by compact; and they did enjoy the good things of this world, but then played the virtuous in order to save their souls; but at the appointed time, the devil produced the compact signed with blood, and claimed and took the forfeit. And this Presidential candidate thinks he can enjoy the good things of this world, and then, by playing the virtuous, cheat the devil out of his dues? [Laughter and cheers.] Vain undertaking! This devil will be too much for the man who wrote the Woodward-letter, and either the good things of this world will not be enjoyed, or the forfeit will be claimed and taken! [Loud cheers and applause.]
No, no, this is no jest! I am in sober earnest, and mean what I say. Either that party must go to pieces, or it must be held together by bargain and sale. If it goes to pieces, well and good; the smaller the pieces, the better. [Laughter and cheers.] But if it be held together by bargain and sale, what is the price at which the support of the surrender-men can be secured? What assurances, what secret pledges must be given? And you know well enough that those old party-leaders are not the men who work merely for the gratification of another man’s ambition!
How will it he when the leaders of the surrender-party press around the throne and claim the forfeit? Will the new War—President then lean for strength upon his brother Pendleton, that most abject and submissive of all Surrender-Democrats? [Laughter and cheers.]
​How magnificent a combination would be this: Horatio Seymour as Secretary of State and chief of the circumlocution office; Seymour, of Connecticut, as Secretary of the Navy; Vallandigham as Secretary of War; and Fernando Wood, in consideration of the peculiar lustre which his honesty sheds upon his talents, Secretary of the Treasury. [Peals of laughter.] And would such a combination, if bargain as a last refuge be resorted to, would it be more wonderful than the harmony of the Chicago Convention? Is not the support of all of them necessary?
No, no, I am not jesting. If the party be held together, and the Cabinet should be a complete Pandemonium, there would be nothing surprising in it. Such arrangements have been seen before, when things were working smoothly, and when there was no apparent conflict between platform and candidate. How, then, may it be now, when the necessities of the party are so pressing that they must resort to extreme remedies to save it? [Cheers.]
Meanwhile, you will see them walk from voter to voter and say, “Are you for war? So are we, my friend; here is our candidate!” or, “Are you for peace? So are we, my friend; here is our platform!” only in one thing treating all alike: in deceiving each other, and in deceiving all! For when they say, “We are for war,” may not the answer be, “You lie, for here is your platform!” Or, when they say, “We are for peace,” may not the answer be, “You lie, for here is your candidate!” [Cheers and applause.]
Americans, what a spectacle is this! How sad, how loathsome an exhibition! And it is in this way that a great nation is to decide of its future! In this gulf of deception and duplicity you would sink the fortunes of your country? From my inmost heart, from the very ​depth of my profoundest convictions, I warn you. Out of this, nothing can grow but a peace that can not last, or a war that will not end; a peace without honor and solidity, or a war without faith, without nerve, without success, without decision. [Great applause.]
It is with a sense of relief that I turn from this fearful labyrinth of confused contradictions, of dark arrangements, of continually shifting pretences, to another programme of peace policy, which has at least the merit of consistency in its principles, of unyielding firmness in its policy, and of straightforward clearness in its propositions. It is the platform of the great Union party. [Applause.] Let us examine the wisdom of its policy with a view to the restoration of peace. Its first resolution reads thus:
“Resolved, That it is the highest duty of every American citizen to maintain against all their enemies the integrity of the Union and the paramount authority of the Constitution and laws of the United States; and that, laying aside all differences and political opinions, we pledge ourselves as Union men, animated by a common sentiment, and aiming at a common object, to do everything in our power to aid the Government in quelling by force of arms the rebellion now raging against its authority, and in bringing to the punishment due to their crimes the rebels and traitors arrayed against it.”
This, at least, is clear and definite. There are no “ifs” nor “buts.” Starting from the conviction that disunion will bring on interminable conflicts, and that, if, in the interest of peace alone, the Union must, absolutely must be restored—and only our enemies abroad, and traitors at home doubt that—and that the rebels will not consent to reunion unless the victories of our army and navy bring them to terms—and only fools doubt that—it is ​affirmed that there is nothing left to us but to seek peace by a resort to arms, by vigor and energy in its prosecution of the war, and by a faithful and devoted support of the Government in its efforts to secure a speedy and decisive victory. This we explicitly declare to be the sense of the loyal American people. [Applause.] Not one of the points we have won is given up; not one step is taken backward; not one advantage gained is jeopardized by a prevaricative policy; and while the Democratic promise of armistice and premature concession, by exhibiting a flagging spirit and a vacillating purpose, can only serve to encourage the rebels to persevere in their resistance, our inflexible determination will make them count the cost; and if the Southern people are really tired of the war, if they really want peace, they will at last have to make up their minds, once for all, that they cannot get rid of this way, with its burdens and its sacrifices, unless they buy peace at the only price at which it can be bought, the restoration of the Union.
And, moreover, this declaration will make European governments understand that we do not consider this war a failure, nor that we mean to make it so; and that, if they should conclude to give the rebellion countenance and aid and comfort, they will never succeed in changing our unalterable determination; but may, indeed, succeed in pressing our resentment beyond the limits of mere remonstrance. [Cheers.] And as to our detractors abroad, who are so anxious for peace and the cessation of bloodshed, but still more anxious for the breaking up of this Republic; who, when some disaster has befallen us, so blandly endeavor to persuade us that now it is time to stop, that now we can endure it no longer, that after all separation would be best for both parties—they omit to speak of third and fourth parties—and that our own welfare would be best promoted by consenting to it without unnecessary ​delay, and who, when, in spite of their magnanimous advice, we steadily work on, show their little humor by accusing us of heartlessness and barbarism, flavoring their urgencies from time to time with a dark rumor of foreign intervention; by this declaration we give them to understand, once for all, that they might as well bridle their tender solicitude; that the American people are not acting upon the rash impulse of passion, but upon convictions broad and deep; that, according to those convictions, a lasting peace is impossible with disunion; that, therefore, whatever sacrifice it may cost, the Union must be restored and will be restored; that this is our set purpose, and that they are not smart enough to coax us out of it, and, we humbly suspect, not formidable enough to frighten us out of it. [Great applause.)
And, finally, this declaration will give an assurance to our friends abroad, who are generously willing to give us their moral and financial aid, that considerations of justice, humanity, liberty and the public welfare urge us, not to stop the war and abandon our purpose, but to work on with increased vigor and unbending perseverance; that we have faith in the justice of our cause, and confidence in the final result; that our friends being true to us, we shall be true to them; that they not only will be protected against their aid becoming a sacrifice, but will once have the satisfaction of having contributed to the success of the greatest cause of this century. [Great cheering.]
And now L appeal to you, Union men, and I appeal to you also, Democrats, is this, or is it not, the only policy worthy of the great American people? Answer! [“Aye! Aye!”]
But here we do not stop. The rebellion being beaten down, the rebels being obliged to keep peace for the present by the utter exhaustion of their forces, peace must be secured for the future. The Union party presents for this object another resolution. It reads thus:
​“Resolved, That we approve the determination of the Government of the United States not to compromise with rebels, or to offer any terms of peace, except such as may be based upon an ‘unconditional surrender’ of their hostility, and a return to their just allegiance to the Constition and laws of the United States, and that we call upon the Government to maintain this position, and to prosecute the war with the utmost possible vigor to the complete suppression of the rebellion, in full reliance upon the self-sacrifice, the patriotism, the heroic valor, and the undying devotion of the American people to their country and its free institutions.”
While we all agree that hatred and resentment ought to have no share in the final settlement of our differences, it is declared that the lawful authority of the Government must be vindicated in such a manner as to leave the fundamental obligations of the citizens toward it no longer in doubt. In other words: Here is the press; here is the public meeting; here are our legislative assemblies, State and national; here are the courts of justice—if you have a matter of principle or of policy to discuss, to defend, to carry, there are the means to discuss, to defend, to carry it. If you succeed, well and good. If you fail, you must try again by the same means, or give up. But whoever rises in rebellion against the will of the majority, Constitutionally expressed, must be brought to submit to it unconditionally, so that every man, woman, and child throughout this broad land may know that nothing, nothing at all, can be made by forcibly resisting that will. This point once sternly, inflexibly established, no man will henceforth be tempted to embark in an enterprise which is so perilous and also so hopeless. [Cheers.]
But the peace of the Republic must not rest upon submission alone: it must be placed npon a solid foundation, by securing the hearty co-operation of the now rebellious ​people in the future development of the restored Union. Then, indecd, pease will be perfect. And this great object is subserved by another proposition submitted by the Union party. It is this:
“Resolved, That as slavery was the cause, and now constitutes the strength of this rebellion, and as it must be always and everywhere hostile to the principles of republican government, justice and the national safety demand its utter and complete extirpation from the soil of the Republic, and that we uphold and maintain the acts and proclamations by which the Government, in its own defence, has aimed a death-blow at this gigantic evil. We are in favor, furthermore, of such an amendment to the Constitution to be made by the people in conformity with its provisions, as shall terminate and for ever prohibit the existence of slavery within the limits of the jurisdiction of the United States.” [Tremendous cheering.]
The abolition of slavery was urged upon us—first, as a measure of justice by the great laws of the universe; second, as a war measure, by the necessities of our situation; and third, as the great measure of reconciliation, by the necessity of placing our internal peace upon the basis of political, social, and economical harmony. To discuss it as a measure of justice, or as a war measure, is not my object at present; but discussing it as a peace measure, I boldly assert, that there is nothing that can bring about sincere, hearty, and lasting reconciliation but the abolition of slavery. [Applause.]
First, then, as to harmony in our political system: Was it not the profound and eternal antagonism between slavery and the fundamental principles of our policy, that brought forth the strife which at last resulted in open rebellion? The friends of despotism in the old world were in the habit of sneering at our democratic experiment, and of predicting its failure; and when the rebellion broke ​out, they exulted over us and said, that the experiment had already failed. They exulted too soon. The experiment was not in danger of failure because our political system was democratic, but because there was one element in it which was anti-democratic, and that rebelled against the rest. They have indeed exulted over us too soon; for we cast out the unclean spirit, we place the democratic experiment upon the course of a consistent, harmonious, and healthful development, and its success will be surer than ever. [Loud cheering.]
Secondly, as to social and economical harmony. What is it that the non-slaveholders of the South, the overwhelming majority of the Southern people, are fighting for? Not their own interests, but the interests and aspirations of the slaveholding aristocracy. This aristocracy, by its wealth and superior spirit and intelligence, hold the non-slaveholding majority in a moral subjection, little less absolute than that of the slaves themselves. And upon what does that aristocratic superiority rest? Upon the system of slavery. Destroy slavery, and you will emancipate, not only the blacks, but the whites also. [Loud cheers.] In the place of the great aspiration of slavery, which is dominion, you will place the great aspiration of free labor, which is equality; for the equality of the citizen is nothing but the recognized dignity of free labor. [Great applause.] The yoke once lifted, the Southern people once emancipated, they will not let a broken-down aristocracy think for them, but they will think for themselves, like freemen; they will have the aspirations of freemen, centred in truly free institutions, which are to be found in the Union. Their new dignity and their new aspirations will demand the school-house, and the school-house will make them look back with contempt upon their former wretchedness, and open the charms of new prospects and a new activity full to their view. These new prospects, this ​future of independence, self-reliance, and self-respect, will make them forget the past, in which there was nothing but degradation. Nor is this all.
The downfall of slavery will open the road to property to the poor labering man. Slavery was a huge insatiable land-eater. Slavery abolished, the great landed estates, based upon and supported by slave labor, will go to pieces, and the pieces will fall into the hands of the poor laboring man. Instead of the grand palatial mansion, surrounded with miserable negro cabins, and instead of the wretched hovel inhabited by the poor white, we shall soon see the neat white cottage in the midst of small but flourishing fields, and the interior of that cottage will be adorned not with the bowie-knife and pistol, but with the book-case and every evidence of progressive civilization. This will go quickly as thought, for the Southern people will not be left to work out that development alone. Thousands and thousands of Northern men, who but recently had been roaming over that country with sword and bayonet, and on that occasion had made the discovery of the South, will invade it again with spade and plough, and machinery, and capital, and knowledge, and a spirit of progressive improvement. These invaders will be the peaceable neighbors of the invaded, and each one will work for the other in working for himself; and all will be one people. Thus the Southern people will be reorganized, regenerated by the emancipation of the large majority from the rule of a powerful few. Then the acrimony of the rebellion will be blotted out even to the remembrance; the people will no longer have time to think of the differences of an unfortunate past, for they will have to think of the problems of a busy present and a hopeful future. [Cheers.]
But what of the late slave-lord? Will he forget his rancor also? What if he does not? His class was always weak in numbers, and the system which made it powerful ​in society is gone. Some of the once mighty cavaliers will sullenly sink in the flood, and their fossil remains, flattened and petrified, will be found, like those of the antediluvian mastodon, between the strata of the new social organization. [Cheers.] Curious geologists will dig them out, and the children of the South will wonder how such monstrous animals could ever have existed. [Loud applause.] But others will save themselves in the ark of the free-labor system. They will in time see the wisdom of accommodating themselves to the new order of things, and find out at last that it is better to be an equal among freemen than to be the master, and at the same time the slave of slaves. [Applause.] And presently the South will bloom like the bursting bud of a flower. The immense resources of the soil will, as by enchantment, spring to light under the magic touch of free labor, and her riches will be enjoyed by a free, happy, and—who doubts it?—loyal people. And then will come the great day when the people of the regenerated South will stretch their hands across the Ohio and the Potomac and say: “Blessed be you, brethren of the North! We were sick and wretched, and you have made us well! Not only our slaves, but we also were in bondage, and you have broken our fetters!” [Loud cheers.]
This will be peace and reconciliation indeed; a reconciliation in obedience to the great moral laws of the universe and to the progressive spirit of our age; a peace founded upon harmonious co-operation, mutual benefit, and good-will to all men. Such must be, and such only can be, the internal peace of the Union. [Cheers.]
This, then, is the peace-programme of the Union party: Peace won by force of arms, maintained by an inflexible vindication of the majesty of the people, and fortified in the hearts of the people by the greatest reform of our century, founded upon justice to all.
​This settlement will secure order, for it fetters the spirit of rebellion by enforcing the fundamental obligation of the citizen; it will secure liberty, for it will cast out the demon which attempted its overthrow; it will secure prosperity and happiness, for it will throw open resources, hitherto untouched or wasted, to the unfettered genius of the American people, and extend the benefit of popular education into the darkest corner of the country. But it will do more. This settlement will prepare this Republic for that power and greatness among the nations of the earth, to which a manifest destiny points its finger.
Lord John Russell once defined the American war, as the South fighting for independence, and the North fighting for empire. I accept the word. Aye, the South is fighting for independence; aye, we are fighting for empire, and for empire, too, on the very grandest of scales! [Loud cheers.] It is so, and it cannot be otherwise.
What is the independence the South is fighting for? Look at it. It is the rending asunder of what naturally belongs together; it is the breaking up of a great Republic which promised to throw its peaceful shield over untold millions; it is the establishment of a Confederacy on the corner-stone of the most hideous abomination of the age; it is the introduction of incessant strife and all the desolations of internal war, where there might have been the abode of happy repose and civilizing industry; it is the necessity of turning a large proportion of the social forces, which might have all been devoted to the pursuit of moral and material improvement, to the savage and tyrannical pursuit of attack and defence; it is the destruction of free institutions; it is the interruption of progressive civilization; it is the ceaseless and bloody struggle of factions, instead of the tranquil government of public opinion; it is restless weakness, instead of peaceful, ​national strength; it is the contempt of the world, instead of its admiration; it is the poor and oppressed of the world robbed of their asylum; it is a great young nation robbed of a great and happy future. Such is the breaking up of this Republic; such is Southern independence. [Applause.]
And what is the empire we are fighting for? It is, indeed, not a state, with an emperor at its head; it is, indeed, not like the empire of the Romans of old, or of Great Britain in India, who subjugated nations, and coined the sweat and tears of the oppressed into gold; it is, indeed, not like that of the first Napoleon, who placed his brothers and minions upon the thrones of ruined states, and threw his iron fingers like a vice around the throats of conquered nations. But look at this: here is a country of three millions three hundred thousand square miles, nearly two millions of which are capable of a high order of agricultural improvement; a country washed by the two great oceans on the east and west, and intersected by the most magnificent rivers and strings of lakes; a country able to support more than a thousand millions of inhabitants. This is the geographical character of the empire we are fighting for. And now as to the people. This country contains over thirty millions to-day, and by an estimate far below the ratio of increase established during the last seven decades, it will contain one hundred millions in fifty years, and five hundred millions in a century—and elbow-room for many more. And for the untold millions that are to inhabit it, we hold this country as a sacred trust; to them we have to transmit the foundations upon which they can build their peace, prosperity, civilization, and power. We will transmit to them institutions free from the vices and encumbrances of which European nations vainly strive to deliver themselves; free from the necessity of large and dangerous standing ​armies; free from that pernicious centralization of power which springs from the dangers occasioned by the close proximity of powerful and hostile neighbors; free from the blight of an aristocracy, and free from the curse of slavery. [Loud applause.] We will transmit to them liberty and equal rights, secured by laws respectable and respected; we will transmit to them a social organization in which every human being can enjoy the fruits of his labor with dignity and independence; we will transmit to them a full abundance of the means which promote the untrammelled development of the moral and ideal element in human nature. We will transmit to them an untarnished national honor; we will transmit to them a power under whose shield the oppressed of the world will feel secure, and whose flag no king or combination of kings will dare to touch. These blessings we will transmit to them in the frame of a Federal Constitution, the national form of self government, elastic enough for ever so many hundred millions of citizens, leaving every individual, and every community free to work out their own progressive development in their own acknowledged spheres, while binding all together in a bond of strength. In one word, we mean to build up a Republic, greater, more populous, freer, more prosperous, and more powerful than any state history tells us of; a Republic having within itself all that can make a people great, good, and happy, and being so strong, that its pleasure will be consulted before any power on earth will undertake to disturb the peace of the world. [Loud cheering.] This, my Lord John Russell, is the Empire we are fighting for, and this Empire we mean to have. [Great applause.]
The nations of old Europe stand aghast and look with silent terror and amazement at the Titanic grapple, at ​this life-or-death struggle between the Roundheads and the Cavaliers of America, between the army of the future and the army of the past. They have seen us surprised by a gigantic and well-organized rebellion, as by a thief in the night: we had no army, no navy, no arms, no war-funds in the Treasury; they have seen us create army and navy out of nothing in the twinkling of an eye, and the people pouring out their untold millions of money, as if it had not cost a drop of sweat to earn them. They have seen defeat come upon us with such stunning force, that the nation seemed to reel under the blow. And they cried “failure,” as now the allies of our enemies here are crying “failure.” But then they saw this nation quietly gather up its strength, and like the silent waves of the ocean roll against the bulwarks of rebellion. Another repulse equally stunning, and “failure” again, but again the wave rolls on with increased and tremendous momentum. And so they see the fearful game sway to and fro, disaster set at defiance with grim stubbornness, victory wrung from the grasp of an unwilling fortune, until at last the Mississippi is ours, until the Atlantic coast is fringed with our conquests, until the glorious Farragut [great cheering] has battered down the forts of Mobile, and swept the Southern waters, until the restless Sherman has dug his bloody way into the heart of Georgia [continued cheering], and until the indomitable Grant, whose unbending mind, insensible to disaster, is doggedly clinging to the heels of victory, has laid his iron hand upon the ramparts of Richmond. [Tremendous applause.] And old Europe asks: “Are they not tired yet?” See here, old Europe; this is the fourth year of the war. All rebeldom is swept clean by a merciless conscription. The President of the United States calls again for half a million of men, and from all hills and valleys resounds ​the old song, “We are coming, we are coming!” and over five thousand men a day volunteer for the bloody work of achieving their country’s destiny. [Great applause.]
Europe does not understand this inexhaustible perseverance, this bull-dog tenacity. Europe does not know the American. She looks upon him as a cold, dry, matter-of-fact creature, whose soul is filled to its full capacity with business calculations and the mean cares of everyday life. Europe is mistaken. There is a profound idealism in the soul of the American, which breaks forth in its full force only on great occasions. The American believes in the great destiny of his country, believes in it with that unconquerable, immovable, religious, fanatic faith, to which the greatness of the difficulties to be overcome appears as nothing compared with the greatness of the object to he achieved. This faith lives not only in the head of the man of thought and far-seeing speculation; it hovers over the plough of the farmer, over the anvil of the mechanic, over the desk of the merchant; it is the very milk with which the American mother nourishes her baby. This faith has put our armies into the field and set our navy afloat; as in France every soldier is said to carry the marshal’s baton in his knapsack, so in America the smallest cabin-lad of the fleet, the meanest drummer-boy in the field, carries in his soul the great ideal of his country’s destiny. [Great cheering.] This faith knows no failure, and if it be staggered a moment by the blow of unexpected misfortune, it bounds up again the next moment with a wonderful recuperative power. No, this faith knows no failure; for it no sacrifice is too great, before its onset impossibility yields its stubbornness. The rebellion itself could not shake it; no, by the rebellion it has grown in intensity. The rebellion has suddenly lifted ​this nation from her childhood. Having gone through struggles, the tremendous shocks of which not many States would have been able to endure, this nation now stands there with the inspiring consciousness of mature strength. She did not know before how strong she was, but now she knows; and whatever trials may be in store for her, fear and weakness will have no seat at her council-board. And with proud confidence she looks forward to the day, when the united power of North and South will rally again under the common banner of liberty, and when it will be a question of first interest to foreign powers, how far, during this war, they have provoked the resentment of the American people. [Tremendous cheering.] Meanwhile, guided by her great faith as by a column of fire by night and a column of cloud by day, the nation marches forth to do or die for the grand republican empire of the future.
And this great republican empire of the future is no idle dream, no mere empty hallucination of a heated brain. The stupendous prospect is opened by patent fact and the demonstrations of reason. This Republic cannot but be great, if it is one; but there can be nothing but strife, weakness, and decay, if it be divided. The questions of peace, empire, national existence, liberty, prosperity, civilization—all these questions are one and inseparable. In the very nature of things, this Republic must be great or it must die. There is no other alternative. The great republican empire is there, it is within your grasp, if you only remain true to the idea.
And now hear me, Americans of to-day, and mark my words: In the peace which you are now struggling for, you will lay the foundation of this future greatness, or you will lay in it the seeds of decay, disease, and death. Whatever you may have achieved, you have done nothing ​if you will not do more. [Great applause.] This is the turning-point of your development; this is the moment of the final decision; this is the great opportunity. Take care how you use it. It will never, never come back. Woe to the statesman who now conceives a plan, or cherishes a sympathy, that is not in accordance with this great development. Woe to the party that now tries to lure the people from the glorious path. Woe to the people if at this solemn moment they mistake their duty to themselves and to future generations. It is with her life that the nation would have to pay for the fatal error. [Loud applause.]
Not to the rebels will I appeal. The slave lords, fighting for institutions which are condemned by the unanimous voice of enlightened humanity, have set their hearts upon reviving what is dead, and the voice of reason and argument cannot pierce their fatal infatuation; and their retinue follows them like a flock of sheep. Let them fulfil the destiny they have made for themselves. Let the dead bury their dead. [Applause.]
Nor will I appeal to those degenerate sons of the North who have openly allied themselves with the enemies of their country; who rejoice over her disasters and grieve over her victories. They present one of those singular examples of human depravity, which must he seen in order to be believed. That a son should mock a benignant mother, when she is weeping tears of agony and distress; that her smile of pride and happiness should make him sad—that can hardly be explained upon any psychological theory. It shows a depth of moral perversity so deep and dark, that the ordinary understanding cannot sound it, and that even the creative power of imagination stands baffled. When I see such a man, I feel myself overcome by a feeling of profound pity; pity for a soul ​that has closed itself against those great and generous emotions which would unite it in joy and grief with so many thousand kindred souls, pity for the sullen miseries of a barren heart. But to reason with them would be in vain, for we cannot follow them into the sombre and tangled mazes of their motives. We must leave them to the infamy they have chosen for themselves. [Loud applause.]
But to you, whose hearts are still open to the entreaties of your hopefully struggling country, but whose eyes are clouded by party spirit, or by the false pride of preconceived opinions, or by little resentments, to you I address this last appeal. There is the great destiny of your Republic; the warmest enthusiasm of your hearts for it cannot be too fiery, your deepest prayers for it cannot be too pressing. You see it before you. The means by which it can be achieved I have pointed out to you; no, not that, I have only reminded you of them, for your own common sense, your own experience, the unanimous opinion of this century, your own consciences, point them out. These means are powerful, but plain, direct, and simple; and in their grand directness and simplicity worthy of the tremendous object to be achieved. And now you come with your puny tricks and shifts of compromise? Now, you can find comfort for your souls in the pusillanimous, dangerous, pernicious expedient of the weak and shaky, to do things by halves? Now, you can parade petty grievances before the world and raise the silly cry of despotism, a cry so silly that those who raise if cannot meet each other in the street without smiling? Now, in the face of this tremendous stake, you resort to your little cunning contrivances to confuse the minds of the people, merely to gain an advantage for a party? Now, you cannot set your heel upon the contemptible ranklings of per​sonal disappointment or the groveling animosity of minor differences of opinion? Now, you insist upon being small when the country expects every one of her sons to rise to the height of her own destiny? Now, when the fate of the Republic stands upon the brink of the most fearful decision, a decision which will be irrevocable for ever? Party! Have you not learned yet that in times of a great crisis there can be only a for and against, and that all which is half this and half that must he ground to dust as between two mill-stones? [Loud applause.] Have you not learned that lesson in the contest of 1860? Then you will learn it now, when your organization is crumbling to pieces like a rotten stick, dangerous for him who leans upon it; crumbling to pieces in spite of artful duplicity, in spite of trade and bargain. This is not a mere accident; it is the inexorable logic of things. [Applause.] And out of this disgraceful shipwreck you can hesitate to save the proud privilege of being useful to your country? Not I alone entreat you thus. Hear the voice of him, who leads your sons and brothers on the field of battle: “The end is near; only let the North be true to herself! Unity of sentiment and unity of action, and victory is sure!” And not he alone. Every sigh and moan of the wounded soldier, every drop of blood that stains our battle-fields, every tear that moistens the pale checks of our widows and orphans, cries out to you: “Take care that this be not in vain. Unite for the struggle!” [Applause.]
But, believe me, it is not from fear of failure that I appeal to you. I appeal to you that your names may not go down to your children on the suspicious list of the doubtful. I wish that the country might be proud of all her sons.
Indeed, whatever you may do, we fear you not; for, ​although only glorious New England has spoken [great cheering], I solemnly declare my belief that the people have already decided in their hearts. This nation will not be false to her great destiny. You try in vain to stop her march by throwing yourselves under her feet. Come with her if you will, or she will march over you if she must. [Long-continued and tremendous applause.] In every pulsation of the popular heart, in every breeze there is victory; and in the midst of the din and confusion of the conflict there stands the National Will, undisturbed, in monumental repose, and gives his quiet command: For the Great Empire of Liberty, Forward! [Long-continued cheers and applause, and waving of hats.]