You suggest that in political action now, you and I would differ. I

suppose we would; not quite so much, however, as you may think. You know

I dislike slavery, and you fully admit the abstract wrong of it. So far

there is no cause of difference. But you say that sooner than yield your

legal right to the slave, especially at the bidding of those who are not

themselves interested, you would see the Union dissolved. I am not aware

that any one is bidding you yield that right; very certainly I am not. I

leave that matter entirely to yourself. I also acknowledge your rights

and my obligations under the Constitution in regard to your slaves. I

confess I hate to see the poor creatures hunted down and caught and

carried back to their stripes and unrequited toil; but I bite my lips

and keep quiet. In 1841, you and I had together a tedious low-water trip

on a steamboat, from Louisville to St. Louis. You may remember, as I

well do, that from Louisville to the mouth of the Ohio, there were on

board ten or a dozen slaves shackled together with irons. That sight was

a continued torment to me, and I see something like it every time I

touch the Ohio or any other slave border. It is not fair for you to

assume that I have no interest in a thing which has, and continually

exercises, the power of making me miserable. You ought rather to

appreciate how much the great body of the Northern people do crucify

their feelings in order to maintain their loyalty to the Constitution

and the Union. I do oppose the extension of slavery, because my judgment

and feeling so prompt me, and I am under no obligations to the contrary.

If for this you and I must differ, differ we must. You say if you were

President, you would send an army and hang the leaders of the Missouri

outrages upon the Kansas elections; still, if Kansas fairly votes

herself a slave State she must be admitted, or the Union must be

dissolved. But how if she votes herself a slave State unfairly; that

is, by the very means for which you say you would hang men? Must she

still be admitted, or the Union dissolved? That will be the phase of the

question when it first becomes a practical one. In your assumption that

there may be a fair decision of the slavery question in Kansas, I

plainly see that you and I would differ about the Nebraska law. I look

upon that enactment, not as a law, but as a violence from the beginning.

It was conceived in violence, is maintained in violence, and is being

executed in violence. I say it was conceived in violence, because the

destruction of the Missouri Compromise, under the circumstances, was

nothing less than violence. It was passed in violence, because it could

not have passed at all but for the votes of many members in violence of

the known will of their constituents. It is maintained in violence,

because the elections since clearly demand its repeal, and the demand is

openly disregarded.

You say men ought to be hung for the way they are executing the law; I

say that the way it is being executed is quite as good as any of its

antecedents. It is being executed in the precise way which was intended

from the first, else why does no Nebraska man express astonishment or

condemnation? Poor Reeder is the only public man who has been silly

enough to believe that anything like fairness was ever intended, and he

has been bravely undeceived.

That Kansas will form a slave constitution, and with it ask to be

admitted into the Union, I take to be already a settled question, and so

settled by the very means you so pointedly condemn. By every principle

of law ever held by any court North or South, every negro taken to

Kansas _is_ free; yet in utter disregard of this--in the spirit of

violence merely--that beautiful Legislature gravely passes a law to hang

any man who shall venture to inform a negro of his legal rights. This is

the subject and real object of the law. If, like Haman, they should hang

upon the gallows of their own building, I shall not be among the

mourners for their fate. In my humble sphere, I shall advocate the

restoration of the Missouri Compromise so long as Kansas remains a

Territory; and when, by all these foul means, it seeks to come into the

Union as a slave State, I shall oppose it. I am very loath in any case

to withhold my assent to the enjoyment of property acquired or located

in good faith; but I do not admit that good faith in taking a negro to

Kansas to be held in slavery is a probability with any man. Any man who

has sense enough to be the controller of his own property has too much

sense to misunderstand the outrageous character of the whole Nebraska

business. But I digress. In my opposition to the admission of Kansas, I

shall have some company, but we may be beaten. If we are, I shall not,

on that account, attempt to dissolve the Union. I think it probable,

however, we shall be beaten. Standing as a unit among yourselves, you

can, directly and indirectly, bribe enough of our men to carry the day,

as you could on the open proposition to establish a monarchy. Get hold

of some man in the North whose position and ability are such that he can

make the support of your measure, whatever it may be, a Democratic-party

necessity, and the thing is done. Apropos of this, let me tell you an

anecdote. Douglas introduced the Nebraska Bill in January. In February

afterward, there was a called session of the Illinois Legislature. Of

the one hundred members composing the two branches of that body, about

seventy were Democrats. These latter held a caucus, in which the

Nebraska Bill was talked of, if not formally discussed. It was thereby

discovered that just three, and no more, were in favour of the measure.

In a day or two Douglas's orders came on to have resolutions passed

approving the bill; and they were passed by large majorities! The truth

of this is vouched for by a bolting Democratic member. The masses too,

Democratic as well as Whig, were even nearer unanimous against it; but

as soon as the party necessity of supporting it became apparent, the way

the Democrats began to see the wisdom and justice of it was perfectly

astonishing.

You say that if Kansas fairly votes herself a free State, as a Christian

you will rejoice at it. All decent slaveholders talk that way, and I do

not doubt their candour; but they never vote that way. Although in a

private letter or conversation you will express your preference that

Kansas should be free, you would vote for no man for Congress who would

say the same thing publicly. No such man could be elected from any

district in a slave State. You think Stringfellow and company ought to

be hung.... The slave-breeders and slave-traders are a small, odious,

and detested class among you; and yet in politics they dictate the

course of all of you, and are as completely your masters as you are the

master of your own negroes. You inquire where I now stand. That is a

disputed point. I think I am a Whig; but others say there are no Whigs,

and that I am an Abolitionist. When I was at Washington, I voted for the

Wilmot Proviso as good as forty times; and I never heard of any one

attempting to unwhig me for that. I now do no more than oppose the

extension of slavery. I am not a Know-nothing; that is certain. How

could I be? How can any one who abhors the oppression of negroes be in

favour of degrading classes of white people? Our progress in degeneracy

appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring

that _all men are created equal_. We now practically read it, _all men

are created equal except negroes_. When the Know-nothings get control,

it will read, _all men are created equal except negroes_ and foreigners

and Catholics. When it comes to this, I shall prefer emigrating to some

country where they make no pretence of loving liberty--to Russia, for

instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy

of hypocrisy.... My kindest regards to Mrs. Speed. On the leading

subject of this letter I have more of her sympathy than I have of yours;

and yet let me say I am your friend for ever.

A. LINCOLN.

_Mr. Lincoln's Speech. May 19, 1856_

Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen, I was over at [cries of "Platform!" "Take

the platform!"]--I say, that while I was at Danville Court, some of our

friends of anti-Nebraska got together in Springfield and elected me as

one delegate to represent old Sangamon with them in this convention, and

I am here certainly as a sympathizer in this movement and by virtue of

that meeting and selection. But we can hardly be called delegates

strictly, inasmuch as, properly speaking, we represent nobody but

ourselves. I think it altogether fair to say that we have no

anti-Nebraska party in Sangamon, although there is a good deal of

anti-Nebraska feeling there; but I say for myself, and I think I may

speak also for my colleagues, that we who are here fully approve of the

platform and of all that has been done [A voice: "Yes!"]; and even if we

are not regularly delegates, it will be right for me to answer your call

to speak. I suppose we truly stand for the public sentiment of Sangamon

on the great question of the repeal, although we do not yet represent

many numbers who have taken a distinct position on the question.

We are in a trying time--it ranges above mere party--and this movement

to call a halt and turn our steps backward needs all the help and good

counsels it can get; for unless popular opinion makes itself very

strongly felt, and a change is made in our present course, _blood will

flow on account of Nebraska, and brother's hand will be raised against

brother_! [The last sentence was uttered in such an earnest, impressive,

if not, indeed, tragic, manner, as to make a cold chill creep over me.

Others gave a similar experience.]

I have listened with great interest to the earnest appeal made to

Illinois men by the gentleman from Lawrence [James S. Emery] who has

just addressed us so eloquently and forcibly. I was deeply moved by his

statement of the wrongs done to free-State men out there. I think it

just to say that all true men North should sympathize with them, and

ought to be willing to do any possible and needful thing to right their

wrongs. But we must not promise what we ought not, lest we be called on

to perform what we cannot; we must be calm and moderate, and consider

the whole difficulty, and determine what is possible and just. We must

not be led by excitement and passion to do that which our sober

judgments would not approve in our cooler moments. We have higher aims;

we will have more serious business than to dally with temporary

measures.

We are here to stand firmly for a principle--to stand firmly for a

right. We know that great political and moral wrongs are done, and

outrages committed, and we denounce those wrongs and outrages, although

we cannot, at present, do much more. But we desire to reach out beyond

those personal outrages and establish a rule that will apply to all, and

so prevent any future outrages.

We have seen to-day that every shade of popular opinion is represented

here, with _Freedom_ or rather _Free-Soil_ as the basis. We have come

together as in some sort representatives of popular opinion against the

extension of slavery into territory now free in fact as well as by law,

and the pledged word of the statesmen of the nation who are now no more.

We come--we are here assembled together--to protest as well as we can

against a great wrong, and to take measures, as well as we now can, to

make that wrong right; to place the nation, as far as it may be possible

now, as it was before the repeal of the Missouri Compromise; and the

plain way to do this is to restore the Compromise, and to demand and

determine that _Kansas shall be free!_ [Immense applause.] While we

affirm, and reaffirm, if necessary, our devotion to the principles of

the Declaration of Independence, let our practical work here be limited

to the above. We know that there is not a perfect agreement of sentiment

here on the public questions which might be rightfully considered in

this convention, and that the indignation which we all must feel cannot

be helped; but all of us must give up something for the good of the

cause. There is one desire which is uppermost in the mind, one wish

common to us all--to which no dissent will be made; and I counsel you

earnestly to bury all resentment, to sink all personal feeling, make all

things work to a common purpose in which we are united and agreed about,

and which all present will agree is absolutely necessary--which _must_

be done by any rightful mode if there be such: _Slavery must be kept out

of Kansas_! [Applause.] The test--the pinch--is right there. If we lose

Kansas to freedom, an example will be set which will prove fatal to

freedom in the end. We, therefore, in the language of the _Bible_, must

"lay the axe to the root of the tree." Temporizing will not do longer;

now is the time for decision--for firm, persistent, resolute action.

[Applause.]

The Nebraska bill, or rather Nebraska law, is not one of wholesome

legislation, but was and is an act of legislative usurpation, whose

result, if not indeed intention, is to make slavery national; and unless

headed off in some effective way, we are in a fair way to see this land

of boasted freedom converted into a land of slavery in fact.

[Sensation.] Just open your two eyes, and see if this be not so. I need

do no more than state, to command universal approval, that almost the

entire North, as well as a large following in the border States, is

radically opposed to the planting of slavery in free territory. Probably

in a popular vote throughout the nation nine-tenths of the voters in the

free States, and at least one-half in the border States, if they could

express their sentiments freely, would vote NO on such an issue; and it

is safe to say that two-thirds of the votes of the entire nation would

be opposed to it. And yet, in spite of this overbalancing of sentiment

in this free country, we are in a fair way to see Kansas present itself

for admission as a slave State. Indeed, it is a felony, by the local law

of Kansas, to deny that slavery exists there even now. By every

principle of law, a negro in Kansas is free; yet the _bogus_

legislature makes it an infamous crime to tell him that he is free!

The party lash and the fear of ridicule will overawe justice and

liberty; for it is a singular fact, but none the less a fact, and well

known by the most common experience, that men will do things under the

terror of the party lash that they would not on any account or for any

consideration do otherwise; while men who will march up to the mouth of

a loaded cannon without shrinking, will run from the terrible name of

"Abolitionist," even when pronounced by a worthless creature whom they,

with good reason, despise. For instance--to press this point a

little--Judge Douglas introduced his anti-Nebraska bill in January; and

we had an extra session of our legislature in the succeeding February,

in which were seventy-five Democrats; and at a party caucus, fully

attended, there were just three votes out of the whole seventy-five, for

the measure. But in a few days orders came on from Washington,

commanding them to approve the measure; the party lash was applied, and

it was brought up again in caucus, and passed by a large majority. The

masses were against it, but party necessity carried it; and it was

passed through the lower house of Congress against the will of the

people, for the same reason. Here is where the greatest danger

lies--that, while we profess to be a government of law and reason, law

will give way to violence on demand of this awful and crushing power.

Like the great Juggernaut--I think that is the name--the great idol, it

crushes everything that comes in its way, and makes a--or as I read

once, in a black-letter law book, "a slave is a human being who is

legally not a _person_, but a _thing_." And if the safeguards to liberty

are broken down, as is now attempted, when they have made _things_ of

all the free negroes, how long, think you, before they will begin to

make _things_ of poor white men? [Applause.] Be not deceived.

Revolutions do not go backward. The founder of the Democratic party

declared that _all_ men were created equal. His successor in the

leadership has written the word "white" before men, making it read "all

_white_ men are created equal." Pray, will or may not the Know-nothings,

if they should get in power, add the word "protestant," making it read

"_all protestant white men_"?

Meanwhile the hapless negro is the fruitful subject of reprisals in

other quarters. John Pettit, whom Tom Benton paid his respects to, you

will recollect, calls the immortal Declaration "a self-evident lie;"

while at the birth-place of freedom--in the shadow of Bunker Hill and of

the "cradle of liberty," at the home of the Adamses and Warren and

Otis--Choate, from our side of the house, dares to fritter away the

birthday promise of liberty by proclaiming the Declaration to be "a

string of glittering generalities;" and the Southern Whigs, working hand

in hand with pro-slavery Democrats, are making Choate's theories

practical. Thomas Jefferson, a slaveholder, mindful of the moral element

in slavery, solemnly declared that he "trembled for his country when he

remembered that God is just;" while Judge Douglas, with an insignificant

wave of the hand, "don't care whether slavery is voted up or voted

down." Now, if slavery is right, or even negative, he has a right to

treat it in this trifling manner. But if it is a moral and political

wrong, as all Christendom considers it to be, how can he answer to God

for this attempt to spread and fortify it? [Applause.]

But no man, and Judge Douglas no more than any other, can maintain a

negative, or merely neutral, position on this question; and,

accordingly, he avows that the Union was made _by_ white men and _for_

white men and their descendants. As matter of fact, the first branch of

the proposition is historically true; the government was made by white

men, and they were and are the superior race. This I admit. But the

corner-stone of the government, so to speak, was the declaration that

"_all_ men are created equal," and all entitled to "life, liberty, and

the pursuit of happiness." [Applause.]

And not only so, but the framers of the Constitution were particular to

keep out of that instrument the word "slave," the reason being that

slavery would ultimately come to an end, and they did not wish to have

any reminder that in this free country human beings were ever

prostituted to slavery. [Applause.] Nor is it any argument that we are

superior and the negro inferior--that he has but one talent while we

have ten. Let the negro possess the little he has in independence; if he

has but one talent, he should be permitted to keep the little he has.

[Applause.] But slavery will endure no test of reason or logic; and yet

its advocates, like Douglas, use a sort of bastard logic, or noisy

assumption, it might better be termed, like the above, in order to

prepare the mind for the gradual, but none the less certain,

encroachments of the Moloch of slavery upon, the fair domain of freedom.

But however much you may argue upon it, or smother it in soft phrases,

slavery can only be maintained by force--by violence. The repeal of the

Missouri Compromise was by violence. It was a violation of both law and

the sacred obligations of honour, to overthrow and trample underfoot a

solemn compromise, obtained by the fearful loss to freedom of one of the

fairest of our Western domains. Congress violated the will and

confidence of its constituents in voting for the bill; and while public

sentiment, as shown by the elections of 1854, demanded the restoration

of this compromise, Congress violated its trust by refusing, simply

because it had the force of numbers to hold on to it. And murderous

violence is being used now, in order to force slavery on to Kansas; for

it cannot be done in any other way. [Sensation.]

The necessary result was to establish the rule of violence--force,

instead of the rule of law and reason; to perpetuate and spread slavery,

and, in time, to make it general. We see it at both ends of the line. In

Washington, on the very spot where the outrage was started, the fearless

Sumner is beaten to insensibility, and is now slowly dying; while

senators who claim to be gentlemen and Christians stood by,

countenancing the act, and even applauding it afterward in their places

in the Senate. Even Douglas, our man, saw it all and was within helping

distance, yet let the murderous blows fall unopposed. Then, at the other

end of the line, at the very time Sumner was being murdered, Lawrence

was being destroyed for the crime of Freedom. It was the most prominent

stronghold of liberty in Kansas, and must give way to the all-dominating

power of slavery. Only two days ago, Judge Trumbull found it necessary

to propose a bill in the Senate to prevent a general civil war and to

restore peace in Kansas.

We live in the midst of alarms; anxiety beclouds the future; we expect

some new disaster with each newspaper we read. Are we in a healthful

political state? Are not the tendencies plain? Do not the signs of the

times point plainly the way in which we are going? [Sensation.]

In the early days of the Constitution slavery was recognized, by South

and North alike, as an evil, and the division of sentiment about it was

not controlled by geographical lines or considerations of climate, but

by moral and philanthropic views. Petitions for the abolition of slavery

were presented to the very first Congress by Virginia and Massachusetts

alike. To show the harmony which prevailed, I will state that a fugitive

slave law was passed in 1793, with no dissenting voice in the Senate,

and but seven dissenting votes in the House. It was, however, a wise

law, moderate, and, under the Constitution, a just one. Twenty-five

years later, a more stringent law was proposed and defeated; and

thirty-five years after that, the present law, drafted by Mason of

Virginia, was passed by Northern votes. I am not, just now, complaining

of this law, but I am trying to show how the current sets; for the

proposed law of 1817 was far less offensive than the present one. In

1774 the Continental Congress pledged itself, without a dissenting vote,

to wholly discontinue the slave trade, and to neither purchase nor

import any slave: and less than three months before the passage of the

Declaration of Independence, the same Congress which adopted that

declaration unanimously resolved "that _no slave be imported into any of

the thirteen United Colonies_." [Great applause.]

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