SLAVERY A BARBAROUS DISEASE TO BE STAYED.

TRIBUTE TO A COLLEGE CLASSMATE.

Of all my classmates, I think that he gave, in college, the largest promise of future eminence, mingled, however, with uncertainty whether the waywardness of genius might not betray him. None then imagined that the fiery nature, nursed upon the study of Byron, and delighting always to talk of his poetry and life, would be tamed to the modest ways which he afterwards adopted. The danger seemed to be, that, like his prototype, he would break loose from social life, and follow the bent of lawless ambition, or at least plunge with passion into the strifes of the world. His earnestness at this time bordered on violence, and in all his opinions he was a partisan. But he was already thinker as well as reader, and expressed himself with accuracy and sententious force. Voice harmonizes with character, and his was too apt to be ungentle and loud.

They who have known him only latterly will be surprised at this glimpse of him in early life. A change so complete in sentiment, manner, and voice, as took place in him, I have never known. It seemed like one of those instances in Christian story, where the man of violence is softened suddenly into a saintly character. I do not exaggerate in the least. So much have I been impressed by it at times, that I could hardly believe in his personal identity, and I have recalled the good Fra Cristoforo, in the exquisite romance of Manzoni, to prove that the simplest life of unostentatious goodness may succeed a youth hot with passion of all kinds.

To me, who knew him so well in his other moods, it was touching in the extreme to note this change. Listening to his voice, now so gentle and low, while he conversed on the duties of life, and with perfect simplicity revealed his own abnegation of worldly aims, I have been filled with reverence. At these times his conversation was peculiar and instructive. He had thought for himself, and expressed what he said with all his native force refined by new-born sweetness of soul, which would have commended sentiments even of less intrinsic interest. I saw how, in the purity of his nature, he turned aside from riches and from ambition of all kinds, content with a tranquil existence, undisturbed by any of those temptations which promised once to exercise such sway over him. But his opinions, while uttered with modesty, were marked by the hardihood of an original thinker, showing that in him

His firm renunciation of office, opening the way to a tempting political career, when formally tendered to him, is almost unique. He had been Representative from Lynn, in the Legislature of Massachusetts, and was nominated as Senator for Essex. This was long ago, in 1838, while he was yet a young man; and here his sagacity seemed to be remarkable as his principles. At that early day, when the two old political parties had been little criticised, he announced that their strife was “occasional and temporary, and that both had forgotten or overlooked the great principle of equal liberty for all, upon which a free government must rest as its only true and safe basis.” He then proceeded to dissolve his connection with parties, in words worthy of perpetual memory. “I disconnect myself from party,” he said, “whose iron grasp holds hard even upon the least of us, and mean in my little sphere, as a private individual, to serve what seems to me the cause of the country and humanity. I cannot place currency above liberty. I cannot place money above man. I cannot fight heartily for the Whigs and against their opponents, when I feel, that, whichever shall be the victorious party, the claims of humanity will be forgotten in the triumph, and that the rights of the slave may be crushed beneath the advancing hosts of the victors.”[167] No better words have been uttered in our political history. In this spirit, and with his unquestionable abilities, he might well have acted an important part in the growing conflict with Slavery. But his love of retreat grew also, and he shrank completely from all the activities of political life. There was nothing that was not within his reach; but he could not be tempted.

I cannot disguise that at times I was disposed to criticise this withdrawal, as suggesting too closely the questionable philosophy concentrated in the saying, Bene vixit qui bene latuit. But as often as I came within the sphere of his influence, and felt the simple beauty of his life, while I saw how his soul, like the sensitive leaf, closed at the touch of the world, I was willing to believe that he had chosen wisely for himself, or at all events that his course was founded on a system deliberately adopted, upon which even an old friend must not intrude. Having always the greatest confidence in his resources, intellectual as well as moral, I was never without hope that in some way he would make his mark upon his country and his age. If he has not done this, he has at least left an example precious to all who knew him.

PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATES AND THE ISSUES.

MR. PRESIDENT,—It is now six years since I had the honor of meeting my Republican fellow-citizens of Massachusetts in State Convention, drawn together from all parts of our beloved Commonwealth,—and then also, I remember well, it was at this good city of Worcester. Returning, at last, with restored health, to the activities of public life, I am happy again in this opportunity. It is pleasant to look into the faces of friends, and to feel the sympathy of kindred hearts.

Nor can I disguise the satisfaction which I find at being here in Worcester,—early and constant home of the Republican cause. When other places, even in Massachusetts, were indifferent for Freedom, Worcester was earnest; and when the cause was defeated in other counties, here, under the lead of an eminent citizen, now the ornament of the bench,[168] it triumphed by brilliant majorities; so that Worcester became known, not only throughout Massachusetts, but everywhere, throughout the country, as our impregnable stronghold. Long since, while America was yet an unsettled wilderness, an English poet depicted a county of our motherland as

and this ancient verse furnishes a descriptive phrase which has been aptly applied to our Worcester, “the heart,” as it is the central county, of the Commonwealth. But though truly belonging to Worcester on this account, I have always been glad to believe that it only justly depicted her as the “heart” of our cause,—here at least in Massachusetts.

If this cause were of common political interest, if it turned only on some question of mere policy, or if it involved simply the honors and emoluments of office, I should willingly leave the contest to others. It would have little attraction for me. But it is far above these things. It concerns the permanent well-being, primarily, of all the outlying territories of the Republic, broad enough for empires, now menaced by Slavery; and since one part of the body cannot suffer without all being affected, it concerns the permanent well-being and also the good name of the whole country, clouded by the growing influence of Slavery. Nor is this all. The special motive for the proposed extension of Slavery is to fortify the Slave Power in the Senate of the United States, and, through the assured preponderance of this Power there, to control the National Government in legislation, diplomacy, and the distribution of office, so that, in short, no law can be passed, no treaty can be ratified, and no individual, though possessing all possible fitness for public service, can be confirmed for office of any kind, without the consent of the Slave Power,—thus, through the Senate, controlling the Judiciary itself. Seeking, therefore, by active measures,—I say active and immediate measures,—to save the Territories, you seek also to save the whole country, not only from a deadly influence, but also from a degrading rule, which ostracizes from office all who avow the early opinions of the Fathers.

Such is our cause, nakedly stated, without illustration or argument. Strange that it is not recognized at once by every patriot heart! Strange that we should be compelled to vindicate it, sometimes against open foes, and sometimes—harder still—against others who betray it with a kiss!

In the coming election this cause has its representative in Abraham Lincoln. And why has he been selected? Not solely because he is a popular favorite in the great Northwest,—of blameless life, of unimpeachable integrity, of acknowledged abilities, and of practical talent, all of which are unquestionable recommendations, shared, however, by many others,—but because he had made himself the determined champion of the Prohibition of Slavery in the Territories, stating the case with knowledge, with moderation, and yet with firmness,—avowing openly his hatred of Slavery,—likening its introduction in the Territories now to the Canada thistle, which a few may plant to the detriment of succeeding generations, and then again to snakes deposited in the cradle of an infant,—and especially exposing the dishonest invention of “Squatter Sovereignty,” which would despoil Congress of all power over this subject, and transfer it to the distant handful of first settlers.

On two different occasions his views have been put forth and developed,—first, in elaborate controversy with Mr. Douglas in Illinois, and, secondly, in his well-known speech at the Cooper Institute, New York. He does not need my praise; nor would I step aside from my argument to praise anybody; but I may fitly call attention to this masterly address, which, in careful research, clearness of statement, and directness of purpose, may well compare with any one of the innumerable speeches ever made concerning the power of Congress over the Territories. On the topic it professes to treat it is a monograph. Perhaps it is not too much to say that the effort was needed in establishing his title to that public confidence which made him our candidate. It is for the Prohibition of Slavery in the Territories that he has labored, and, excepting his brief, but honorable, experience in Congress, his public life may be summed up in this single service,—nor more nor less. The magnitude of the service may be measured by his present position as representative of our cause.

Arrayed in opposition are three other candidates for the Presidency,—Bell, Breckinridge, and Douglas,—I mention them in alphabetical order,—differing superficially among themselves, but all concurring in friendship for Slavery and in withstanding its prohibition anywhere, with followers ready, in warfare against the Republican party, to coalesce or fuse with each other. In this readiness you see the common antagonism. No person in the Republican party can think of coalition or fusion with either of these three parties; for they each and all represent in some form resistance to the Prohibition of Slavery, and therefore must be opposed, each and all. The whole trio are no better than Mrs. Malaprop’s idea of Cerberus, “three gentlemen at once,” and must be encountered together.

Looking at them separately, there is, first, the Bell party. Pardon me, if I use names familiarly: it is but for the sake of convenience. This party, known among us only by its boasts, draws its practical support from the Slave States. It is a Proslavery party,—essentially hostile to the Prohibition of Slavery in the Territories, and dealing always in treacherous generalities, which, if they have any meaning, mean Slavery,—exalting the Constitution, as Slave-Masters understand it,—also exalting the Union, in order to gain credit for “saving” it,—and calling for the enforcement of the laws, meaning the enforcement of the only Act of Congress which Slave-Masters specially recognize, that for the surrender of fugitive slaves. Your indulgence would hardly excuse me, if I occupied time in argument against this combination, which, without declaring a single principle, without any chance of a majority in the electoral colleges, and without any hope of a single electoral vote in the Free States, runs for luck,—which, with only a single possible vote in the House of Representatives, where it seeks, for a revolutionary purpose, to transfer the election, again proposes to run for luck.

Its plan, so far as known, is this. You will remember, that, by the Constitution of the United States, in the event of failure to elect by the people, the House of Representatives is empowered to choose a President out of the three highest candidates for that office, and the Senate to choose a Vice-President out of the two highest candidates for that office. Now, assuming, first, that the Republican candidate will not be elected by the people, which you know to be a very wild assumption,—and, secondly, assuming that there will be no election of President by the House,—this party, turning next to the Vice-Presidency, assumes, thirdly, that Mr. Everett will be one of the two highest candidates for the Vice-Presidency, and, fourthly, that Mr. Everett will be elected by the Senate Vice-President, and then will become President, like John Tyler and Millard Fillmore,—not through the death of a President, but through a double failure by the people and by the House. Such is the calculation by which this band of professed Conservatives seek repose for the country. Permit me to say that it is equalled only by the extravagance of Mrs. Toodles, in the farce. Her passion was auctions, where she purchased ancient articles of furniture under the idea that they might some day be useful. Once, to the amazement of her husband, she brought home a brass door-plate with the name of Thompson spelled with a p. “But what is this for?” he demanded. “Why,” said Mrs. Toodles, with logic worthy of the Bell party, “though we have been married many years without children, it is possible, my dear, that we may have a child, that child may be a daughter, and may live to the age of maturity, and she may marry a man of the name of Thompson spelled with a p. Then how handy it will be to have this door-plate in the house!” I doubt if any person really familiar with affairs can consider this nomination for the Vice-Presidency of more practical value than Mrs. Toodles’s brass door-plate, with the name of Thompson spelled with a p, picked up at an auction. But then, in a certain most difficult contingency at the end of a long line of contingencies, how handy it must be to have it in the house!

In speaking of the Breckinridge party, I confess myself at the outset perplexed between abhorrence of its dogma and respect for its frankness. No plausible generality is put forward, as by the Bell party, under which good and evil may alike find shelter; nor is any plausible invention announced, as in the case of yet another party, under which the real issue is avoided. But the insufferable claim, first made by Mr. Calhoun, is unequivocally promulgated, that under the Constitution the master may at all times carry his slaves into the Territories, and neither Congress nor Territorial Legislature can prohibit the outrage. This at least is plain. There is something even in criminal boldness which we are disposed to admire. We like an open foe, who scorns to hide in deceit, and meets us in daylight. But we do not like a foe who dodges and hides so that we cannot find him. Nor do we like a man who gives us only something counterfeit in exchange for our votes. We do not like the double-faced prevaricator, who cozens both sides, and deals in words “that palter in a double sense.” It is praise to be frank, even on a bad side; and I have no reason to question this merit of the Breckinridge party. And yet this very frankness reveals an insensibility to reason and humanity, which, when recognized, must add to our abhorrence. That men calling themselves Christians, calling themselves Americans, in this nineteenth century, should without a blush assert such a dogma may well excite our wonder.

Fully to appreciate this dogma, you must know and feel what Slavery is. And here I content myself simply with reminding you of what elsewhere I have demonstrated, that Slavery, as defined by existing law, is a five-headed Barbarism, composed of five different wrongs, each of which you must indignantly reject: first, the impudent claim of property in man; secondly, the gross mockery of the marriage-tie; thirdly, the absolute nullification of the parental relation; fourthly, the denial of instruction; and, fifthly, the robbery of another’s labor, and of all its fruits: that this whole five-headed Barbarism, sustained by existing law, and enforced by the lash, is simply to compel labor without wages; and that to this end all great rights of freedom, marriage, family, instruction, and property are trampled down. This is Slavery. Turn it over, look at it as you will, such it is, and such it must be seen to be by every honest mind.

Believe me, fellow-citizens, I do not present this outline willingly. Gladly would I drop a veil over the revolting features. But when audacious claims are made for Slavery, and you are told by one candidate that it travels with the Constitution into new Territories, and then by another candidate that the handful of first settlers can alone deal with it in the Territories, while Congress sits powerless, it becomes your duty to consider precisely what Slavery is, to study it in the law from which it derives its character, and to follow it also in all its effects. Here is the essential and vital part of the argument, even on the question of Constitutional Law. It is only when this is done that we can see how irrational is every effort to give it constitutional force, or to save it from the action of Congress within the national jurisdiction.

According to the claim now made, Slavery exists under the Constitution everywhere outside the States,—in other words, Slavery is National; whereas just the contrary is true. Everywhere outside the States Freedom must prevail; in other words, Freedom is National. Yes, Freedom is National, and Slavery Sectional. Read the Constitution, and tell me if it be not so. Surely, if a pretension so peculiar as that now set up could be found there, it would be plain to all, so that no man could question it. Like the Decalogue, it would be in positive language: “Thou shalt enslave thy brother man.” It would be left to no doubtful phrase or ambiguous words, but would stand forth in appalling certainty, a “darkness visible.” It would be stuck up, like Gessler’s hat in the marketplace, so that all could see it. But nothing is clearer than that in this well-considered instrument there is not one clause or word which maintains property in man, not one clause or word on which any such pretension can be founded. Wherever there is any imagined reference to slaves, it is at most only to their possible existence in States, “under the laws thereof”; and then their designation as “persons” shows, that, whatever may be their condition in the States, the Constitution does not regard them as “property.” Thank God, the Constitution does not contain the idea that man can be the property of man. It was the declared purpose of Mr. Madison to exclude this idea. So completely has this been done, that it is among boasts often made, that a stranger in a distant country or a future age, reading our Constitution, and having no other record of our history, would not know that any human being had ever been claimed as “property” within the limits of the Republic. The text, at least, of the Constitution is blameless. If men find Slavery there, it is only because they make the Constitution reflect their own souls.

And yet this pretension is now the shibboleth of a great political party; this is its single inspiration; this is its only principle; this is all its stock in trade; this is its very “breath of life.” To this base use has Democracy come. In voting for Mr. Breckinridge, you declare, first, that man can have property in his fellow-man, and, secondly, that such property is recognized by the Constitution of the United States. The soul recoils from both. But even if the first be true,—which I utterly deny,—it does not follow that such property is sanctioned in the Constitution.

Last in order of alphabet is the Douglas party, whose single cry is “Popular Sovereignty”; last also in character,—for who can respect what we know to be a deceit? The statesman founds himself on principles; sometimes it is his office to frame expedients; but Popular Sovereignty, as now put forward, is not a principle,—oh, no! not even an expedient; it is nothing but a device, a pretext, an evasion, a dodge, a trick, in order to avoid the commanding question, whether Slavery shall be prohibited in the Territories. That is all.

All hail to Popular Sovereignty in its true glory! This is the grand principle, first announced in the Declaration of Independence, which is destined to regenerate the world. It is embodied in those famous words, adopted by the Republican Convention at Chicago, that among the unalienable rights of all men are “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” and that “to secure these rights governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.” These are sacred words, full of life-giving energy. Not simply national independence was here proclaimed, but also the primal rights of all mankind. Then and there appeared the Angel of Human Liberation, speaking and acting at once with heaven-born strength,—breaking bolts, unloosing bonds, and opening prison-doors,—always ranging on its mighty errand, wherever there are any, no matter of what country or race, who struggle for rights denied,—now cheering Garibaldi at Naples, as it had cheered Washington in the snows of Valley Forge,—and especially visiting all who are down-trodden, whispering that there is none so poor as to be without rights which every man is bound to respect.

None so degraded as to be beneath its beneficent reach, none so lofty as to be above its restraining power; while before it Despotism and Oligarchy fall on their faces, like the image of Dagon, and the people everywhere begin to govern themselves. Such is the Popular Sovereignty proclaimed by the Declaration of Independence.

But the Great Declaration, not content with announcing certain rights as unalienable, and therefore beyond the control of any government, still further, restrains the sovereignty, which it asserts, by simply declaring that the United States have “full power to do all acts and things which independent states may OF RIGHT do.” Here is a well-defined limitation upon Popular Sovereignty. The dogma of Tory lawyers and pamphleteers—put forward to sustain the claim of Parliamentary omnipotence, and vehemently espoused by Dr. Johnson in his “Taxation no Tyranny”—was, openly, that sovereignty is in its nature illimitable, precisely as is now loosely professed by Mr. Douglas for his handful of squatters. But this dogma is distinctly discarded in the Declaration, and it is frankly proclaimed that all sovereignty is subordinate to the rule of Right. Mark, now, the difference. All existing governments at that time, even the local governments of the Colonies, stood on Power, without limitation. Here was a new government, which, taking its place among the nations, announced that it stood only on Right, and claimed no sovereignty inconsistent with Right. Such, again, is the Popular Sovereignty of the Declaration of Independence.

And yet this transcendent principle is now degraded into a “dodge,” and the sacred name of Popular Sovereignty is prostituted to cover the claim of a master over his slave. It is urged that a handful of squatters may rightfully decide this claim, and the time-honored traditional power of Congress over Slavery in the Territories is denied or voted down. To protect this “villany,” as John Wesley would call it, the right of the people to govern themselves is invoked,—forgetful that this divine right can give no authority to enslave others, that even the people are not omnipotent, and that never do they rise so high as when, recognizing the everlasting laws of Right, they bend to the behests of Justice.

Though bearing the name of Mr. Douglas, and now peddled through the country by him, this contrivance is not of his invention. It comes from an older head. It first showed itself in the Nicholson Letter of 1847, by which General Cass, as Presidential candidate, sought to avoid the Wilmot Proviso. Laborious, studious, exemplary in private life, and fertile in pretexts, this venerable character has afforded the formula by which men have voted for Slavery, while making professions for Freedom. He is author of the artifice—rejected by every Slave-Master, and rejected by every lover of Freedom, whose eyes are open—which, under the nickname of Squatter Sovereignty, has been the device of doughfaces, enabling them sometimes to deceive the public and sometimes even to deceive themselves. Owing to the peculiar condition of opinion at that time, not yet stiffened against the compromise of Human Rights, his very vacillation put him in harmony with the public, and gave him a commanding position. Once for the Wilmot Proviso, which asserted the power of Congress over the Territories, and then for a pretended Popular Sovereignty, which denied this power, he became the pendulum between Freedom and Slavery, and, thus swinging, imparted motion to a sham Democracy.

The device next showed itself on the passage of the Kansas and Nebraska Bill; and here it became a trick, as appears by open confession of one of the parties to it,—and a trick it has continued ever since. It was proposed to repeal the old Prohibition of Slavery in the Missouri Territory, established as part of the Missouri Compromise. But instead of doing this openly and precisely, by simple words of repeal, language was invented to mystify the whole question. Then appeared that “little stump speech injected in the belly of the bill,” according to Colonel Benton, declaring that the intent was to leave the people “perfectly free to form and regulate their domestic institutions in their own way, subject only to the Constitution of the United States.” As in the gray of the morning the fatal bill containing these words passed, General Cass, rising from his seat,—I remember well the scene,—exclaimed, “This is the triumph of Squatter Sovereignty!” The old Prohibition of Slavery was overthrown, and his Nicholson Letter was vindicated.

And now note well the trick. The Slave-Masters who voted for these words rejected with scorn the idea that the handful of squatters could exclude Slavery. According to them, Slavery went with the Constitution, and was beyond the control of squatters. But formal assertion of this dogma would have caused trouble, and it was accordingly disguised in these familiar words,—“subject only to the Constitution of the United States.” Mr. Benjamin, of Louisiana, in a recent speech, lets us behind the scenes. He tells, that, at a caucus of Senators, “both wings of the Democracy agreed that each should maintain its particular theory before the public,—one side sustaining Squatter Sovereignty, and the other Protection to Slavery in the Territories, but pledging themselves to abide by the decision of the Supreme Court, whatever it might be.” Such was the secret conspiracy, concealed for a long time from the public, and only recently revealed. And Mr. Douglas was a party to it.

Had the Popular Sovereignty of Mr. Douglas been a reality and not a sham, had it been a sincere recognition of popular rights instead of a trick to avoid their recognition, he could not have been party to such deception. But how was the fact? While professing Popular Sovereignty, what did his bill really confer upon the people? Not the right to organize their own government, determining for themselves its form and character; for all this was done by Act of Congress. Not the right to choose the Executive; for the Governor and all other officers in this department were sent from Washington, nominated by the President. Not the right to nominate the Judiciary; for the judges were also sent from Washington, nominated by the President. Not even the right completely to constitute the Legislature; for even this body was placed in many important respects beyond the popular control. Thus in each of the three great departments of State, Executive, Judicial, and Legislative, is Popular Sovereignty disowned.

Search the “Congressional Globe” during the Nebraska debate, and you will see with what sincerity Mr. Douglas guarded the much vaunted rights of the people. Mr. Chase moved to allow the people to elect their Governor and other officers. On the vote by ayes and noes, the champion of Popular Sovereignty voted No. Mr. Chase, whose effort to unmask this hypocrisy was indefatigable, made another motion, which put Mr. Douglas still more to the test. After the words of alleged Popular Sovereignty in the bill, he moved to add, “under which the people of the Territory, through their appropriate representatives, may, if they see fit, prohibit the existence of Slavery therein.” Here was a plain proposition. On the vote by ayes and noes, Mr. Douglas and his associates again voted No. His recent excuse, put forth in his single peripatetic speech, is, that the proposition was not in the alternate,—that is, that it gave power only to exclude, and not to admit. But if he really favored it in that form, why not move to amend it by adding the power to admit, instead of voting against the whole proposition? It is clear that such an open and unequivocal declaration was not congenial with the game to be played.

The bill passed, and then came other opportunities to test the sincerity of the present knight-errant of Popular Sovereignty. Under its provisions commenced at once a race of emigration into the new Territories, and there Free Labor and Slave Labor grappled. Lovers of Freedom from the North were encountered by partisans of Slavery from the South, organized by Blue Lodges in Missouri, and incited from every part of the Land of Slavery. The officials of a government established under pretended safeguards of Popular Sovereignty all ranged themselves on the side of Slavery; or, if their allegiance became doubtful,—as in the case of Governor Reeder,—they were dismissed, and more available tools sent instead. I spare details. You cannot forget that winter and spring preceding the Presidential election of 1856, when we were alternately startled and stunned at tidings from Kansas, as a body of strangers from Missouri, entering in hundreds, forcibly seized the polls, and, under pretended forms of law, set up a Usurpation, which by positive legislation proceeded to establish Slavery there, and to surround it with a Code of Death. The atrocity of Philip the Second, when, by violence and through a “Council of Blood,” he sought to fasten the Inquisition upon Holland, was renewed. Invasion, rapine, outrage, arson, rape, murder, the scalping-knife, were the agents now employed; and to crown this prostration of popular rights, Lawrence, home of New England settlers, and microcosm of New England life, was burned to the ground by a company of profane and drunken ruffians stimulated from Washington.

What then was the course of the champion of Popular Sovereignty? Did he thunder and lighten? Did he come forward to defend those settlers, who had gone to Kansas under pretended safeguards of his bill? Oh, no! In the Senate he openly ranged himself on the side of their oppressors, mocked at their calamities, denounced them as “insurgents,” insulted their agents, and told them they must submit,—while the distant Emigrant Aid Society in Massachusetts was made the butt of his most opprobrious assaults. All this I myself witnessed.

Then came another scene, with which, owing to my enforced absence from the Senate, as an invalid, I have less personal familiarity; but it is known to all of you. The Senatorial election in Illinois was at hand, when Mr. Douglas suddenly discovered that Popular Sovereignty was something more than a name. He opposed the Lecompton Constitution; but my distinguished colleague [Mr. Wilson] will tell you that even there he was kept from barefaced apostasy only by the stern will and indomitable principle of the lamented Broderick, the murdered Senator from California.

Then came stump speeches and Senate speeches without number, and a magazine article, all to explain Popular Sovereignty. But this simple principle, which, in the light of the Declaration of Independence, and also in the light of reason, is plain enough, has been so twisted, turned, and befogged, now explained away and then explained back, now enlarged and then limited, now acknowledged and then denied, that I challenge any person to say with certainty in what, according to Mr. Douglas, it really consists.

At one time we find him declaring that “Slavery is the creature of local law, and not of the Constitution of the United States.” Good! Let him follow this to its natural conclusion, and no Republican asks more.

Then, at New Orleans, after his election to the Senate was secured, he says: “The Democracy of Illinois accept the decision of the Supreme Court of the United States in the case of Dred Scott as an authoritative interpretation of the Constitution. In accordance with that decision, we hold that slaves are property, and hence on an equality with all other kinds of property, and that the owner of a slave has the same right to move into a Territory and carry his slave property with him as the owner of any other property has to go there and carry his property.” Here is the extreme dogma of Slavery in full feather. Let him follow this to its natural conclusion, and no Breckinridge man could ask more.

At another time we find him declaring that “sovereign States have the right to make their own constitutions and establish their own governments, but that he has never claimed these powers for the Territories, nor has he ever failed to resist such claims, when set up by others.” How, then, under this theory, can Popular Sovereignty have any foothold in the Territories? It is clear that all Territorial legislation against Slavery must be invalid.

And then again, in another place, by roundabout language, he admits, that, according to the Dred Scott decision, which he declares that he “approves,” the people of a Territory cannot, by any legislation, confiscate slave property, or impair the “Constitutional right” of the master to this property in the Territory. With this limitation, pray, where, again, is Popular Sovereignty?

But elsewhere, as if to furnish something for the other side, he intimates a policy of inaction by the Territorial Legislature with regard to Slavery, and asks, “Would not the inaction of the local Legislature, its refusal to provide a Slave Code, or to punish offences against that species of property, exclude Slavery just as effectually as a Constitutional prohibition?” And here is an end of the matter.

Changing forms as often as Proteus, we yet find him admitting, first, that Slavery goes into the Territories under the Constitution; secondly, that the right of property in a slave cannot be destroyed by the Territorial Legislature; and all that this Legislature can do, by way of opposition, is to fold its hands and to seal its tongue in inaction. What, then, is this wonderful doctrine? So far as it means anything, it is simply this: that the people of a Territory have a right to introduce Slavery, but not to prohibit it. And such is Popular Sovereignty! Verily, between this and the Breckinridge dogma there is about the same difference as between the much-vexed doctrines of Transubstantiation and Consubstantiation, where there was only the difference of a single syllable, and both involved the same thing.

Nor is even this all. The Convention at Baltimore which nominated Mr. Douglas has declared by formal resolution, that “the measure of restriction, whatever it may be, imposed by the Federal Constitution on the power of the Territorial Legislature over the subject of the domestic relations, as the same has been or shall hereafter be finally determined by the Supreme Court of the United States, should be respected by all good citizens, and enforced with promptness and fidelity by every branch of the General Government.” And Mr. Douglas, in accepting his nomination, has expressly recognized this doctrine, thus in advance delivering over his bantling Popular Sovereignty to the tender mercies of the Supreme Court.

Far different is the position of Mr. Lincoln, who has openly said, in his debate with Mr. Douglas, “If I were in Congress, and a vote should come up on a question whether Slavery should be prohibited in a new Territory, in spite of the Dred Scott decision, I would vote that it should. That is what I would do.”[171] And allow me to add, that this doctrine of Mr. Lincoln is the doctrine of the Republican party. Any doctrine short of this betrays the trick of Mr. Douglas.

The tree is known by its fruits, and if anything further were needed to expose this cheat of Popular Sovereignty, it might be found in its fruits as boasted by Mr. Douglas. A slave code most revolting in character had been adopted by the Territorial Legislature of New Mexico, not only establishing Slavery there, including the serfdom of whites, but prohibiting Emancipation. Through the generous activity of the Republicans, and in the exercise of a just Congressional intervention, a bill passed the House of Representatives annulling this slave code. While the bill was on the table of the Senate, attesting at once the disposition of the House of Representatives to interfere against Slavery, and also the signal necessity of such interference, Mr. Douglas took occasion to make his boasts. Surrounded by the chiefs of Proslavery Democracy, the juggler of Popular Sovereignty thus showed what the trick had done for Slavery. Here are his words:—