THE REBELLION: ITS ORIGIN AND MAINSPRING.

SPEECH.

MR. PRESIDENT,—It is my nature to be more touched by the kindness of friends than by the malignity of enemies; and I know something of both. You make me feel that I am among friends. Beyond this satisfaction, I have additional pleasure in being welcomed by the Republican Union: first, as you represent the young men, who are the hope and strength of the country; and, secondly, as you constitute an association which has rendered already signal service in saving the country from the rule of the Slave Oligarchy. I know well how you brought forward and supported Abraham Lincoln for the Presidency, and how you adopted and circulated that masterly speech, made in this very hall, which completed those titles to regard that caused his nomination at Chicago and his triumph with the people.

Fellow-Citizens of New York:

In the presence of such an auditory, so genial and almost festive in character,—assembled for no purpose of party, or even of politics, in the ordinary sense of the term,—I incline naturally to some topic of literature, history, science, or art,—to something, at least, which accords with peace. But at this moment, when our whole continent is beginning to shake with the tread of mustering armies, the voice refuses any such theme. The ancient poet, longing to sing of Achilles and the house of Atreus, found that he could sing of love only; and he snatched from his lyre its bloody string. Alas! for me the case is all changed. I can speak to you of war only; but be assured, that, if I speak of war, it is because, unhappily, war has become to us the only way of peace.

The Present is apt to appear trivial and unimportant, while the Past and the Future are grand. Rarely do men know the full significance of the period in which they live, and we are inclined to sigh for something better in the way of opportunity,—such as was given to the hero of the Past, or as imagination allots to the better hero of the Future. But there is no occasion for this repining now. There is nothing in the Past, and it is difficult to imagine anything in the Future, more inspiring than our Present. Even with the curtain yet slightly lifted, it is easy to see that events are gathering, which, in their development, must constitute the third great epoch in the history of this Western Hemisphere,—the first being its discovery by Christopher Columbus, and the second the American Revolution. It remains to be seen if this epoch of ours may not surpass in grandeur either of its two predecessors, so that the fame of the Discoverer and the fame of the Liberator, of Columbus and of Washington, shall be eclipsed by the mild effulgence beaming from an act of godlike justice, creating within its immediate influence a new heaven and a new earth, and extending to other lands a life-giving example, so long as men struggle for rights denied, so long as any human being wears a chain. And this sublime act will be the present substitute for armies. The ancient Spartan, being asked, “Which is the greater virtue, justice or valor?” answered in memorable words, “Where justice is, there can be no need of valor.”

War is always an epoch. Unhappily, history counts by wars. Of these, some are wars of ideas,—like that between Catholics and Huguenots in France, between Catholics and Protestants in Germany, between the arbitrary crown of Charles the First and the Puritanism of Oliver Cromwell, and like that between our fathers and the mother country, when the Declaration of Independence was put in issue. Some originate in questions of form, some in the contentions of families, some in the fickleness of princes, and some in the machinations of politicians. England waged war on Holland, and one of the reasons openly assigned was an offensive picture in the Town-Hall of Amsterdam. France hurled armies across the Rhine, carrying fire and slaughter into the Palatinate, and involving great nations in most bloody conflict,—and all this wickedness is traced to the intrigue of a minister, to divert the attention of his sovereign. But we are now in the midst of a war which, whatever the reasons assigned by the unhappy men who began it, or by those who sympathize with them elsewhere, has an origin and mainspring so clear and definite as to be beyond question. Ideas are sometimes good and sometimes bad; and there may be a war for evil as well as for good. Such was that earliest rebellion waged by fallen spirits against the Almighty Throne; and such is that now waged by fallen slave-masters of our Republic against the National Government. I adopt the language of Milton, in his masterly prose, when I call it “a war fit for Cain to be the leader of,—an abhorred, a cursed, a fraternal war.”[205] Nor can any courage in Rebels give true honor. If victorious, they will be only Satanic saints of Slavery, with place in a most hateful hagiology.

If you will kindly listen, I shall endeavor to unmask this Rebellion in its Origin and Mainspring. Only when these are known can you determine how it is to be treated. Your efforts will be governed by the character of the adverse force,—whether regarded as motive power or as disease. A steam-engine is stopped at once by stopping the steam. A ghastly cancer, which has grappled the very fibres of the human frame, and shot its poison through every vein, will not yield to lip-salve or rosewater.

On the sixth of November last, the people of the United States, acting in pursuance of the Constitution and laws, chose Abraham Lincoln President. Of course this choice was in every particular perfectly constitutional and legal. As such, it was entitled to the respect and acquiescence of every good citizen. It is vain to say that the candidate represented opinions obnoxious to a considerable section of the country, or that he was chosen by votes confined to a special section. It is enough that he was duly chosen. You cannot set aside or deny such an election, without assailing not only the whole framework of the Constitution, but also the primal principle of American institutions. You become a traitor at once to the existing government and to the very idea of popular rule. You snatch a principle from the red book of despotism, and openly substitute the cartridge-box for the ballot-box.

And yet scarcely had this intelligence flashed across the country before the mutterings of sedition and treason began to reach us from an opposite quarter. The Union was menaced; and here the first distinct voice came from South Carolina. A Senator from that State, one of the largest slaveholders of the country, and a most strenuous partisan of Slavery, [Mr. Hammond,] openly declared, in language not easily forgotten, that before the 18th of December South Carolina would be “out of the Union, high and dry and forever.” These words heralded the outbreak. With the pertinacity of demons its leaders pushed forward. Their avowed object was the dismemberment of the Republic, by detaching State after State, in order to found a Slaveholding Confederacy. And here the clearest utterance came from a late Representative of Georgia [Mr. Stephens], now Vice-President of the Rebel States, who did not hesitate to proclaim that “the foundations of the new government are laid upon the great truth, that Slavery, subordination to the superior race, is the negro’s natural and moral condition,”—that “it is the first government in the history of the world based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth,”—and that “the stone which was rejected by the first builders is in the new edifice become the chief stone of the corner.”[206] Here is a savage frankness, with insensibility to shame. The object avowed is hideous in every aspect, whether we regard it as treason to our paternal government, as treason to the idea of American institutions, or as treason to those commanding principles of economy, morals, and Christianity, without which civilization is no better than barbarism.

And now we stand front to front in deadly conflict with this double-headed, triple-headed treason. Beginning with those States most peculiarly interested in Slavery, and operating always with intensity proportioned to the prevalence of Slavery, it fastens upon other States less interested,—Tennessee, North Carolina, Virginia,—and with much difficulty is prevented from enveloping every State containing slaves, no matter how few: for such is the malignant poison of Slavery that only a few slaves constitute a Slave State with all the sympathies and animosities of Slavery. This is the Rebellion which I am to unmask. Bad as it is on its face, it becomes aggravated, when we consider its origin, and the agencies by which it is conducted. It is not merely a Rebellion, but it is a Rebellion begun in conspiracy; nor, in all history, ancient or modern, is there any record of conspiracy so vast and so wicked, ranging over such spaces both of time and territory, and forecasting such results. A conspiracy to seize a castle or to assassinate a prince is petty by the side of this enormous, protracted treason, where half a continent is seized, studded with castles, fortresses, and public edifices, where the Government itself is overthrown, and the President, on his way to the national capital, narrowly escapes most cruel assassination.

But no conspiracy could ripen such pernicious fruit, if not rooted in a soil of congenial malignity. To appreciate properly this influence, we must go back to the beginning of the Government.

South Carolina, which takes so forward a part in this treason, hesitated originally, as is well known, with regard to the Declaration of Independence. Once her vote was recorded against this act; and when it finally prevailed, her vote was given for it only formally and for the sake of seeming unanimity.[207] But so little was she inspired by the Declaration, that, in the contest which ensued, her commissioners made a proposition to the British commander which is properly characterized by an able historian as “equivalent to an offer from the State to return to its allegiance to the British crown.”[208] The hesitation with regard to the Declaration of Independence was renewed with regard to the National Constitution; and here it was shared by another State. Notoriously, both South Carolina and Georgia, which, with the States carved from their original territory, Alabama and Mississippi, constitute the chief seat of the conspiracy, hesitated in becoming parties to the Union, and stipulated expressly for recognition of the slave-trade in the National Constitution as an indispensable condition. In the Convention, Mr. Rutledge, of South Carolina, while opposing a tax on the importation of slaves, said: “The true question at present is, whether the Southern States shall or shall not be parties to the Union.” Mr. Pinckney, also of South Carolina, followed with the unblushing declaration: “South Carolina can never receive the plan [of the Constitution], if it prohibits the slave-trade.” I quote now from Mr. Madison’s authentic report of these important debates.[209] With shame let it be confessed, that, instead of repelling this disgraceful overture, our fathers submitted to it, and in that submission you find the beginning of present sorrows. The slave-trade, whose annual iniquity no tongue can tell, was placed for twenty years under safeguard of the Constitution, thus giving sanction, support, and increase to Slavery itself. The language is modest, but the intent was complete. South Carolina and Georgia were pacified, and took their places in the Union, to which they were openly bound only by a most hateful tie. Regrets for the past are not entirely useless, if out of them we get wisdom for the future, and learn to be brave. It is easy to see now, that, had the unnatural pretensions of these States been originally encountered by stern resistance worthy of an honest people, the present conspiracy would have been crushed before it saw the light. Its whole success, from its distant beginning down to this hour, has been from our timidity.

There was also another sentiment, of kindred perversity, which prevailed in the same quarter. This is vividly portrayed by John Adams, in a letter to General Gates, dated at Philadelphia, 23d March, 1776:—

And he proceeds to declare in strong language that “popular principles and axioms are abhorrent to the inclinations of the barons of the South.” This letter was written in the early days of the Revolution. At a later date John Adams testifies again to the discord between the North and the South, and refers particularly to the period after the National Constitution, saying: “The Northern and the Southern States were immovably fixed in opposition to each other.”[211] This was before any question of Tariff or Free Trade, and before the growing fortunes of the North had awakened Southern jealousy. The whole opposition had its root in Slavery,—as also had the earlier resistance to Republican Government.

In the face of these influences the Union was formed, but the seeds of conspiracy were latent in its bosom. The spirit already revealed was scarcely silenced; it was not destroyed. It still existed, rankling, festering, burning to make itself manifest. At the mention of Slavery it always appeared full-armed with barbarous pretensions. Even in the first Congress under the Constitution, at the presentation of that famous petition where Benjamin Franklin simply called upon Congress to step to the verge of its power to discourage every species of traffic in the persons of our fellow-men, this spirit broke forth in violent threats. With kindred lawlessness it early embraced that extravagant dogma of State Rights which has been ever since the convenient cloak of treason and conspiracy. At the Missouri Question, in 1820, it openly menaced dissolution of the Union. Instead of throttling the monster, we submitted to feed it with new concessions. Meanwhile the conspiracy grew, until, at last, in 1830, under the influence of Mr. Calhoun, it assumed the defiant front of Nullification; nor did it yield to the irresistible logic of Webster or the stern will of Jackson without a compromise. The pretended ground of complaint was the Tariff; but Andrew Jackson, himself a patriot Slaveholder, at that time President, saw the hollowness of the complaint. In a confidential letter, only recently brought to light, dated at Washington, May 1, 1833, and which during the last winter I had the honor of reading and holding up before the Senatorial conspirators in the original autograph, he says:—

Jackson was undoubtedly right; but the pretext which he denounced in advance was employed so constantly afterwards as to become threadbare. At the earliest presentation of Abolition petitions,—at the Texas Question,—at the Compromises of 1850,—at the Kansas Question,—at the possible election of Fremont,—on all these occasions, the Union was threatened by angry Slave-Masters.

The conspiracy is unblushingly confessed by recent parties to it. Especially was this done in the Rebel Convention of South Carolina, where, one after another, the witnesses testified all the same way.

Mr. Parker said: “Secession is no spasmodic effort that has come suddenly upon us. It has been gradually culminating for a long period of thirty years.”

Mr. Inglis followed: “Most of us have had this matter under consideration for the last twenty years.”

Mr. Keitt, Representative in Congress, gloried in his work, saying: “I have been engaged in this movement ever since I entered political life.”

Mr. Rhett, who was in the Senate when I first entered that body, and did not hesitate then to avow himself a Disunionist, declared in the same Convention: “It is not anything produced by Mr. Lincoln’s election, or by the non-execution of the Fugitive Slave Law: it is a matter which has been gathering head for thirty years.”[213]

The conspiracy, thus exposed by Jackson, and confessed by recent parties to it, was quickened by the growing passion for Slavery throughout the Slave States. The well-known opinions of the Fathers, the declared convictions of all most valued at the foundation of the Government, and the example of Washington were discarded, and it was recklessly avowed that Slavery is a divine institution, the highest type of civilization, a blessing to master and slave alike, and the very key-stone of our national arch. A generation has grown up with this teaching, so that it is now ready to say with Satan,—

It is natural that a people thus trained should listen to the voice of conspiracy. Slavery itself is a constant conspiracy; and its supporters, whether in the Slave States or elsewhere, easily become indifferent to all rights and principles by which it may be constrained.

This rage for Slavery was quickened by two influences, which have exhibited themselves since the formation of our Union,—one economical, and the other political. The first was the unexpected importance of the cotton crop, which, through the labor of slaves and the genius of a New England inventor, passed into an extraordinary element of wealth and of imagined strength, so that we have all been summoned to homage to cotton as king. The second was the temptation of political power, than which no influence is more potent,—for it became obvious that this could be assured to Slavery only through the permanent preponderance of its representatives in the Senate; so that the continued control of all offices and honors was made to depend upon the extension of Slavery. Thus, through two strong appetites, one for gain and the other for power, was Slavery stimulated; but the conspiracy was strong only through Slavery.

Even this conspiracy, thus supported and nurtured, would have been more wicked than strong, if it had not found perfidious aid in the very Cabinet of the President. The Secretary of the Treasury, a Slave-Master from Georgia, the Secretary of the Interior, a Slave-Master from Mississippi, the Secretary of War, the notorious Floyd, a Slave-Master from Virginia, and I fear also the Secretary of the Navy, who was a Northern man with Southern principles, lent their active exertions. Through these eminent functionaries the treason was organized and directed, while their important posts were prostituted to its infamy. Here again you see the extent of the conspiracy. Never before, in any country, was there a similar crime which embraced so many persons in the highest places of power, or took within its grasp so large a theatre of human action. Anticipating the election of Mr. Lincoln, the Cabinet conspirators prepared the way for rebellion.

First, the army of the United States was so far dispersed and exiled, that the commander-in-chief found it difficult, during the recent anxious winter, to bring together a thousand troops for the defence of the national capital, menaced by the conspirators.

Secondly, the navy was so far scattered or dismantled, that on the 4th of March, when the new Administration came into power, there were no ships to enforce the laws, collect the revenues, or protect the national property in the Rebel ports. Out of seventy-two vessels of war, counted as our navy, it appears that the whole available force at home was reduced to the steamer Brooklyn, carrying twenty-five guns, and the store-ship Relief, carrying two guns.

Thirdly, the forts on the extensive Southern coast were so far abandoned by the public force, that the larger part, counting upwards of 1,200 cannon, and built at a cost of more than six million dollars, became at once an easy prey to the Rebels.

Fourthly, national arms were transferred from Northern to Southern arsenals, so as to disarm the Free States and equip the Slave States. This was done on a large scale. Upwards of 115,000 arms, of the latest and most approved pattern, were transferred from the Springfield and Watervliet arsenals to different arsenals in the Slave States, where they were seized by the Rebels; and a quarter of a million percussion muskets were sold to various Slave States for $2.50 a musket, when they were worth, it is said, on an average, $12. Large quantities of cannon, mortars, powder, ball, and shell received the same direction.

Fifthly, the National Treasury, so recently prosperous beyond example, was disorganized and plundered even to the verge of bankruptcy. Upwards of six millions are supposed to have been stolen, and much of this treasure doubtless went to help the work of Rebellion.

Thus, even before its outbreak, the conspiracy contrived to degrade and despoil the Government, so as to secure free course for the projected rebellion. The story seems incredible. But it was not enough to disperse the army, to scatter the navy, to abandon forts, to disarm the Free States, and to rob the Treasury. The President of the United States, solemnly sworn to execute the laws, was won into a system of inactivity amounting to practical abdication of his great trust. He saw treason plotting to stab at the heart of his country, saw conspiracy, daily, hourly, putting on the harness of rebellion, but, though warned by the watchful general-in-chief, he did nothing to arrest it, standing always,

Ay, more; instead of instant lightnings, smiting and blasting in their fiery crash, which an indignant patriotism would have hurled, he nodded sympathy and acquiescence. No page of history is more melancholy, because nowhere do we find a ruler who so completely abandoned his country: not Charles the First in his tyranny, not Louis the Sixteenth in his weakness. Mr. Buchanan was advanced to power by Slave-Masters, who knew well that he could be used for Slavery. The Slaveholding conspirators were encouraged to sit in his Cabinet, where they doubly betrayed their country, first by evil counsels, and then by disclosing what passed to distant Slaveholding confederates. The sudden act of Major Anderson, in removing from Fort Moultrie to Fort Sumter, and the sympathetic response of an aroused people, compelled a change of policy, and the Rebellion received its first check. After painful struggle, it was decided at last that Fort Sumter should be maintained. It is difficult to exaggerate the importance of that decision, which, I believe, was due mainly to an eminent Democrat,—General Cass. This, at least, is true: it saved the national capital.

Meanwhile the conspiracy increased in activity, mastering State after State, gathering its forces and building its batteries. The time had come for the tragedy to begin. “At Nottingham,” says the great English historian, speaking of King Charles the First, “he erected his royal standard, the open signal of discord and civil war throughout the kingdom.”[215] The same open signal now came from Charleston, when the conspirators ran up the Rattle-Snake flag, and directed their wicked cannonade upon the small, half-famished garrison of Sumter.

Were this done in the name of Revolution, or by virtue of any revolutionary principle, it would assume a familiar character. But such is not the case. It is all done under pretence of constitutional right. The forms of the Constitution are seized by the conspirators, as they have already seized everything else, and wrested to the purposes of treason. It is audaciously declared, that, under the existing Constitution, each State, in the exercise of its own discretion, may withdraw from the Union; and this asserted right of secession is invoked as cover for Rebellion begun in conspiracy. The election of Mr. Lincoln is made the occasion for the exercise of this pretended right; certain opinions at the North on the subject of Slavery are made the pretext.

Who will not deny that this election can be a just occasion?

Who will not condemn the pretext?

But both occasion and pretext are determined by Slavery, and thus testify to the part it constantly performs.

The pretended right of secession is not less monstrous than the pretext or the occasion; and this, too, is born of Slavery. It belongs to that brood of assumptions and perversions of which Slavery is prolific parent. Wherever Slavery prevails, this pretended right is recognized, and generally with an intensity proportioned to the prevalence of Slavery,—as, for instance, in South Carolina and Mississippi more intensely than in Tennessee and Kentucky. It may be considered a fixed part of the slaveholding system. A pretended right to set aside the Constitution, to the extent of breaking up the Government, is the natural companion of the pretended right to set aside human nature, making merchandise of men. They form a well-matched couple, and travel well together,—destined to perish together. If we do not overflow toward the former with the same indignation which we feel for the latter, it is because its absurdity awakens our contempt. An English poet of the last century exclaims, in mocking verses,—

Such is the impossible contrivance now attempted. Nothing is clearer than that this pretension, if acknowledged, leaves to every State the right to play the “mad horse,” with very little chance of saving anything. It takes from the Government not merely unity, but all security of national life, and reduces it to the shadow of a name, or, at best, a mere tenancy at will,—an unsubstantial form, to be decomposed at the touch of a single State. Of course, such an anarchical pretension, so instinct with all the lawlessness of Slavery, must be encountered peremptorily. It is not enough to declare dissent. We must so conduct as not to give it recognition or foothold. [Applause.]

Instead of scouting this pretension, and utterly spurning it, new concessions to Slavery were gravely propounded as the means of pacification,—like a new sacrifice offered to an obscene divinity. It was argued, that in this way the Border States at least might be preserved to the Union, and some of the Cotton States perhaps won back to duty: in other words, that, in consideration of such concessions, these States would consent to waive a present exercise of the pretended right of secession. Against all such propositions, without considering their character, stands on the threshold one obvious and imperative objection. It is clear that the very bargain or understanding, whether express or implied, is a recognition of this pretended right, and that a State yielding only to such appeal, and detained through concessions, practically asserts the claim, and holds it for future exercise. Thus a concession called small becomes infinite; for it concedes the pretended right of secession, and makes the permanence of the National Government impossible. Amidst all the grave responsibilities of the hour, we must take care that the life of the Republic is sacredly preserved. But this would be sacrificed at once, did we submit its existence to the conditions proposed.

Looking at these concessions, I have always found them utterly unreasonable and indefensible. I should not expose them now, if they did not testify constantly to the Origin and Mainspring of this Rebellion. Slavery was always the single subject-matter, and nothing else. Slavery was not only an integral part of every concession, but the single integer. The one idea was to give some new security, in some form, to Slavery. That brilliant statesman, Mr. Canning, in one of those eloquent speeches which charm so much by style, said that he was “tired of being a security-grinder”; but his experience was not comparable to ours. “Security-grinding,” in the name of Slavery, has been for years the way in which we have wrestled with this conspiracy. [Laughter and applause.]

The propositions at the last Congress began with the President’s Message, which in itself was one tedious concession. You cannot forget his sympathetic portraiture of the disaffection throughout the Slave States, or his testimony to the cause. Notoriously and shamefully his heart was with the conspirators, and he knew intimately the mainspring of their conduct. He proposed nothing short of general surrender; and thus did he proclaim Slavery as the head and front, the very causa causans, of the whole crime.

Nor have you forgotten the Peace Conference, as it was delusively styled, convened at Washington on the summons of Virginia, with John Tyler in the chair, where New York, as well as Massachusetts, was represented by her ablest and most honored citizens. The sessions were with closed doors; but it is now known that throughout the proceedings, lasting for weeks, nothing was discussed but Slavery. And the propositions finally adopted by the Convention were confined to Slavery. Forbearing all detail, it will be enough to say that they undertook to provide positive protection for Slavery under the Constitution, with new sanction and immunity,—making it, notwithstanding the determination of our fathers, national instead of sectional; and even more, making it an essential and permanent part of our republican system. Slavery is sometimes deceitful, as at other times bold; and these propositions were still further offensive from their studied uncertainty, amounting to positive duplicity. At a moment when frankness was needed above all things, we were treated to phrases pregnant with doubt and controversy, and were gravely asked, in the name of Slavery, to embody them in the National Constitution.

There was another string of propositions much discussed during the last winter, which acquired the name of the venerable Senator from whom they came,—Mr. Crittenden, of Kentucky. These also related to Slavery, and nothing else. They were more obnoxious even than those from the Peace Conference. And yet there were petitioners from the North, even from Massachusetts, who prayed for this great surrender. Considering the character of these propositions,—that they sought to change the Constitution in a manner revolting to the moral sense, to foist into its very body the idea of property in man, to protect Slavery in all present territory south of 36° 30´, and to carry it into all territory hereafter acquired south of that line, and thus to make our beautiful Stars and Stripes in their southern march the flag of infamy,—considering that they provided new constitutional securities for Slavery in the national capital and in other places within the exclusive national jurisdiction, new constitutional securities for the transit of slaves from State to State, opening the way to a roll-call of slaves at the foot of Bunker Hill or the door of Faneuil Hall, and also the disfranchisement of nearly ten thousand of my fellow-citizens in Massachusetts, whose rights are fixed by the Constitution of that Commonwealth, drawn by John Adams,—considering these things, I felt at the time, and I still feel, that the best apology of these petitioners was that they were ignorant of their true character, and that in signing the petition they knew not what they did. But even in their ignorance they bore witness to Slavery, while the propositions were the familiar voice of Slavery, crying, “Give! give!”

There was another single proposition from still another quarter, but, like all the rest, it related exclusively to Slavery. It was to insert in the text of the Constitution a stipulation against any future amendment authorizing Congress to interfere with Slavery in the States. If you read this proposition, you will find it crude and ill-shaped,—a jargon of bad grammar, a jumble and hodge-podge of words,—harmonizing poorly with the accurate text of our Constitution. But even if tolerable in form, it was obnoxious, like the rest, as a fresh stipulation in favor of Slavery. Sufficient, surely, in this respect, is the actual Constitution. Beyond this I cannot I will not go. What Washington, Franklin, Madison, and Hamilton would not insert we cannot err in rejecting. [Applause.]

I do not dwell on other propositions, because they attracted less attention; and yet among these was one to overturn the glorious safeguards of Freedom set up in the Free States, known as the Personal Liberty Laws. Here again was Slavery—with a vengeance.

There is one remark which I desire to make with regard to all these propositions. It was sometimes said that the concessions they offered were “small.” What a mistake is this! No concession to Slavery can be “small.” Freedom is priceless, and in this simple rule alike of morals and jurisprudence you find the just measure of any concession, how small soever it may seem, by which Freedom is sacrificed. Tell me not that it concerns a few only. I do not forget the saying of Antiquity, that the best government is where an injury to a single individual is resented as an injury to the whole State; nor am I indifferent to that memorable instance of our own recent history, where, in a distant sea, the thunders of our navy, with all the hazards of war, were aroused to protect the liberty of a solitary person claiming the rights of an American citizen. By such examples let me be guided, rather than by the suggestion, that Human Freedom, whether in many or in few, is of so little value that it may be put in the market to appease a traitorous conspiracy, or soothe accessories, who, without such concession, threaten to join the conspirators.

Warnings of the past, like the suggestions of reason and of conscience, were all against concession. Timid counsels always are an encouragement to sedition and rebellion. If the glove be of velvet, the hand must be of iron. An eminent master of thought, in some of his most vivid words, has bravely said,—