I cannot forget the first time that I looked upon this beautiful
valley, where river, meadow, and hill contribute to the charm. It
was while a youth in college. With several of my classmates I made a
pedestrian excursion through Massachusetts. Starting from Cambridge,
we passed, by way of Sterling and Barre, to Amherst, where, arriving
weary and footsore, we refreshed ourselves at the evening prayer in
the College Chapel. From Amherst we walked to Northampton, and then,
ascending Mount Holyoke, saw the valley of the Connecticut spread out
before us, with river of silver winding through meadows of gold. It
was a scene of enchantment, and time has not weakened the impression
it made. From Northampton we walked to Deerfield, sleeping near Bloody
Brook, and then to Greenfield, where we turned off by Coleraine through
dark woods and over hills to Bennington in Vermont. The whole excursion
was deeply interesting, but no part more so than your valley. Since
then I have been a traveller at home and abroad, but I know no similar
scene of greater beauty. I have seen the meadows of Lombardy, and those
historic rivers, the Rhine and the Arno, and that stream of Charente,
which Henry the Fourth called the most beautiful of France,--also those
Scottish rivers so famous in legend and song, and the exquisite fields
and sparkling waters of Lower Austria; but my youthful joy in the
landscape which I witnessed from the neighboring hill-top has never
been surpassed in any kindred scene. Other places are richer in the
associations of history; but you have enough already in what Nature has
done, without waiting for any further illustration.
It is a saying of Antiquity, often quoted: “Oh, too fortunate
husbandmen, if they only knew their blessings!”[135] Nowhere are these
words more applicable than to this neighborhood, where Nature has
done so much, and where all that Nature has done is enhanced by an
intelligent and liberal spirit. An eminent French writer, one of the
greatest of his country, who wrote in the middle of the last century,
when France was a despotism, Montesquieu, has remarked in his “Spirit
of Laws,” that “countries are not cultivated in proportion to their
fertility, but in proportion to their liberty.”[136] A beautiful truth.
But here in this valley are both. Where is there greater fertility?
where is there truer liberty?
If the farmers of our country needed anything to stimulate pride in
their vocation, it would be found in the statistics furnished by the
national census. That of 1860 is not yet prepared, and I go back
to that of 1850. Here it appears, that, out of the whole employed
population of the United States over fifteen years of age, two
millions four hundred thousand, or forty-four per cent, were engaged
in agricultural pursuits, while the total number engaged in commerce,
trade, manufactures, mechanic arts, and mining was only one million
six hundred thousand, or about thirty per cent. These figures show an
immense predominance of the agricultural interest in the whole country.
Of course in Massachusetts the commercial and manufacturing interests
are relatively larger than in other parts of the country. But our
farmers are numerous.
This same census shows, that, in 1850, the four largest staples of our
country, ranking them according to their nominal value, were: Indian
corn, two hundred and ninety-six million dollars; wheat, one hundred
million dollars; cotton, ninety-eight million dollars; hay, ninety-six
million dollars. These figures, of course, are familiar, but they are
so instructive that they will bear repetition. Besides illustrating
the magnitude of our agricultural interests, they shed new light on
the lofty pretensions that have been made for King Cotton. There is no
crown for hay, or wheat, or Indian corn, and yet two of these stand
above cotton. But the whole table testifies to the power of the farmer.
From another quarter are statistics showing how agricultural pursuits
favor longevity. Out of seventeen hundred persons, the average life
of farmers was forty-five years; of merchants, thirty-three years; of
mechanics, twenty-nine years; and of laborers, twenty-seven years. Thus
length of days seems to be an agricultural product.
Gratifying as it may be to glance at agriculture in these statistics,
which must arouse the pride, if not the content of the farmer, there
are other aspects which to my mind are more interesting. In early days
agriculture was only an art, most imperfectly developed. The plough
of the ancient husbandman was little more than a pole with a stick at
the end by which the earth was scratched, and other implements were
of like simplicity. As for the knowledge employed, it was all of the
most superficial character. But agriculture is now not only an art, in
a high degree of perfection, it is also a science, with its laws and
rules, as much as navigation or astronomy. There is no knowledge which
will not help the farmer; especially is there no branch of science.
Geography, geology, meteorology, botany, chemistry, zoölogy, and animal
physiology, all contribute. Regarding agriculture in this light, we
cannot fail to give the farmer a high standard of excellence. In the
cultivation of the earth he practises an art and pursues a science. But
human character is elevated by the standard which is followed.
There is another feature in the life of the farmer which is to me more
interesting still. The farmer is patriotic and liberal. Dependent upon
Nature, he learns to be independent of Man. If not less than others
under the influence of local prejudices, he is at least removed from
those combinations engendered by the spirit of trade. He thinks for
himself, and acts for his country. I do not venture to say that he is
naturally a reformer, but I think the experience of our country attests
that he does not set himself against the ideas of the age.
Here Mr. Sumner dwelt on that spirit of obstructiveness which
is so common, illustrating it by historic instances, and then
proceeded.
I rejoice to believe that there is no such hide-bound indifference to
liberal ideas among our farmers. But, just in proportion as these are
numerous, intelligent, powerful, and liberal, do they constitute an
arm of strength. Pardon me, if now more than ever I see them in this
character. In appealing to them for the sake of our country, I make no
appeal inconsistent with the proprieties of this occasion. Our country
is in peril, and it must be saved. This is enough.
Under God, our country will be saved through the united energy, the
well-compacted vigor of the people directed by the President of the
United States. Our first duty is to stand by the President, and to hold
up his hands. There must be no hesitation or timidity. If he calls
for troops, he must have them. If, besides calling for troops, he
enlist other agencies for the suppression of the Rebellion, he must be
sustained precisely as in calling for troops.
Thus far the main dependence has been troops, to which our honored
Commonwealth has made generous contributions. No part of the country
has suffered more in gallant officers, youthful, gentle, and excellent
in all things. This neighborhood has its story of sorrow. Amherst has
buried the pure and patriotic Stearns, and only within a few days here
in Northampton you have received from the field of death the brave and
accomplished Baker.
And now at last a new power is invoked, being nothing less than that
great Proclamation of the President which places Liberty at the head of
our columns.
Mr. Sumner here explained the immediate and prospective effects
of the Proclamation, and then closed as follows.
It is sometimes said that this edict is unconstitutional. Some there
are with whom the Constitution is a constant stumbling-block, wherever
anything is to be done for Freedom. It cannot be so, I trust, with the
liberal farmers of this valley. Of course, the Edict of Emancipation is
to be regarded as a war measure, made in the exercise of the Rights
of War. It is as much a war measure as the proclamation calling forth
troops, and is entitled to the same support. It is not a measure of
Abolition or Antislavery, or of philanthropy, but a war measure, pure
and simple. If there be any person disposed to discourage it, I warn
him that _he departs from the duties of patriotism hardly less than if
he discouraged enlistments_. There is but one course now before us.
The policy of Emancipation, at last adopted as a war measure, must
be sustained precisely as we sustain an army in the field. With this
new and mighty agency I cannot doubt the result. The Rebellion will
be crushed, and the Republic will be elevated to heights of power and
grandeur where it will be an example to mankind. It is related of
the Emperor Julian, known as the Apostate,--for he had once embraced
Christianity,--that, perishing before he had struck the last blows
prepared by hatred to the Church, he looked at the blood which spurted
from his side, and then cried, “Galilean, thou hast conquered!” Whether
fable or truth, the story has its meaning. Such a cry will yet be heard
from the apostate chiefs in our Rebel States, “Liberty, thou hast
conquered!”--and the echo of this cry will be heard round the globe.
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