A Nation may be said to consist of its territory, its people, and its
laws. The territory is the only part which is of certain durability.
"One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh, but the
earth abideth forever." It is of the first importance to duly consider
and estimate this ever-enduring part. That portion of the earth's
surface which is owned and inhabited by the people of the United States
is well adapted to be the home of one national family, and it is not
well adapted for two or more. Its vast extent and its variety of
climate and productions are of advantage in this age for one people
whatever they might have been in former ages. Steam, telegraphs, and
intelligence have brought these to be an advantageous combination for
one united people.
In the Inaugural Address I briefly pointed out the total inadequacy of
disunion as a remedy for the differences between the people of the two
sections. I did so in language which I cannot improve and which,
therefore, I beg to repeat:
One section of our country believes slavery is right and ought to be
extended, while the other believes it is wrong and ought not to be
extended. This is the only substantial dispute. The fugitive-slave
clause of the Constitution and the law for the suppression of the
foreign slave-trade are each as well enforced, perhaps, as any law can
ever be in a community where the moral sense of the people imperfectly
supports the law itself. The great body of the people abide by the dry
legal obligation in both cases, and a few break over in each. This, I
think, cannot be perfectly cured; and it would be worse in both cases
after the separation of the sections than before. The foreign
slave-trade, now imperfectly suppressed, would be ultimately revived
without restriction in one section; while fugitive slaves, now only
partially surrendered, would not be surrendered at all by the other.
Physically speaking, we cannot separate. We cannot remove our
respective sections from each other, nor build an impassable wall
between them. A husband and wife may be divorced and go out of the
presence and beyond the reach of each other; but the different parts of
our country cannot do this. They cannot but remain face to face; and
intercourse, either amicable or hostile, must continue between them.
Is it possible, then, to make that intercourse more advantageous or
more satisfactory after separation than before? Can aliens make
treaties easier than friends can make laws? Can treaties be more
faithfully enforced between aliens than laws can among friends?
Suppose you go to war, you cannot fight always; and when, after much
loss on both sides and no gain on either, you cease fighting, the
identical old questions as to terms of intercourse are again upon you.
There is no line, straight or crooked, suitable for a national boundary
upon which to divide. Trace through, from east to west, upon the line
between the free and slave country, and we shall find a little more
than one-third of its length are rivers, easy to be crossed, and
populated, or soon to be populated, thickly upon both sides; while
nearly all its remaining length are merely surveyors' lines, over which
people may walk and back forth without any consciousness of their
presence. No part of this line can be made any more difficult to pass
by writing it down on paper or parchment as a national boundary. The
fact of separation, if it comes, gives up on the part of the seceding
section the fugitive-slave clause along with all other constitutional
obligations upon the section seceded from, while I should expect no
treaty stipulation would be ever made to take its place.
But there is another difficulty. The great interior region, bounded
east by the Alleghanies, north by the British dominions, west by the
Rocky Mountains, and south by the line along which the culture of corn
and cotton meets, and which includes part of Virginia, part of
Tennessee, all of Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin,
Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Iowa, Minnesota, and the Territories of
Dakota, Nebraska, and part of Colorado, already has above ten millions
of people, and will have fifty millions within fifty years if not
prevented by any political folly or mistake. It contains more than one
third of the country owned by the United States--certainly more than
one million of square miles. Once half as populous as Massachusetts
already is, it would have more than seventy-five millions of people. A
glance at the map shows that, territorially speaking, it is the great
body of the republic. The other parts are but marginal borders to it,
the magnificent region sloping west from the Rocky Mountains to the
Pacific being the deepest and also the richest in undeveloped
resources. In the production of provisions, grains, grasses, and all
which proceed from them, this great interior region is naturally one of
the most important in the world. Ascertain from the statistics the
small proportion of the region which has, as yet, been brought into
cultivation, and also the large and rapidly increasing amount of its
products, and we shall be overwhelmed with the magnitude of the
prospect presented; and yet this region has no seacoast, touches no
ocean anywhere. As part of one nation, its people now find, and may
forever find, their way to Europe by New York, to South America and
Africa by New Orleans, and to Asia by San Francisco. But separate our
common country into two nations, as designed by the present rebellion,
and every man of this great interior region is thereby cut off from
some one or more of these outlets--not, perhaps, by a physical barrier,
but by embarrassing and onerous trade regulations.
And this is true wherever a dividing or boundary line may be fixed.
Place it between the now free and slave country, or place it south of
Kentucky or north of Ohio, and still the truth remains that none south
of it can trade to any port or place north of it, and none north of it
can trade to any port or place south of it except upon terms dictated
by a government foreign to them. These outlets, east, west, and south,
are indispensable to the well-being of the people inhabiting, and to
inhabit, this vast interior region. Which of the three may be the
best, is no proper question. All are better than either; and all of
right belong to that people and to their successors forever. True to
themselves, they will not ask where a line of separation shall be, but
will vow rather that there shall be no such line. Nor are the marginal
regions less interested in these communications to and through them to
the great outside world. They, too, and each of them, must have access
to this Egypt of the West without paying toll at the crossing of any
national boundary.
Our national strife springs not from our permanent part, not from the
land we inhabit, not from our national homestead. There is no possible
severing of this but would multiply, and not mitigate, evils among us.
In all its adaptations and aptitudes it demands union and abhors
separation. In fact, it would ere long force reunion, however much of
blood and treasure the separation might have cost.
Our strife pertains to ourselves--to the passing generations of men;
and it can without convulsion be hushed forever with the passing of one
generation. . . .
I do not forget the gravity which should characterize a paper addressed
to the Congress of the nation by the Chief Magistrate of the nation.
Nor do I forget that some of you are my seniors, nor that many of you
have more experience than I in the conduct of public affairs. Yet I
trust that in view of the great responsibility resting upon me, you
will perceive no want of respect to yourselves in any undue earnestness
I may seem to display.
Is it doubted, then, that the plan I propose, if adopted, would shorten
the war, and thus lessen its expenditure of money and of blood? Is it
doubted that it would restore the national authority and national
prosperity, and perpetuate both indefinitely? Is it doubted that we
here--Congress and Executive--can secure its adoption? Will not the
good people respond to a united and earnest appeal from us? Can we,
can they, by any other means so certainly or so speedily assure these
vital objects? We can succeed only by concert. It is not "Can any of
us imagine better?" but, "Can we all do better?" Object whatsoever is
possible, still the question occurs, "Can we do better?" The dogmas of
the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is
piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our
case is new, so we must think anew and act anew. We must disenthral
ourselves, and then we shall save our country.
Fellow-citizens, we cannot escape history. We of this Congress and
this administration will be remembered in spite of ourselves. No
personal significance or insignificance can spare one or another of us.
The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down, in honor or
dishonor, to the latest generation. We say we are for the Union. The
world will not forget that we say this. We know how to save the Union.
The world knows we do know how to save it. We--even we here--hold the
power and bear the responsibility. In giving freedom to the slave, we
assure freedom to the free--honorable alike in what we give and what we
preserve. We shall nobly save or meanly lose the last, best hope of
earth. Other means may succeed; this could not fail. The way is
plain, peaceful, generous, just--a way which, if followed, the world
will forever applaud, and God must forever bless.