The true glory of a nation is in the living temple of a loyal, industrious, and upright people. The busy click of machinery, the merry ring of the anvil, the lowing of peaceful herds, and the song of the harvest-home, are sweeter music than pæans of departed glory, or songs of triumph in war. The vine-clad cottage of the hillside, the cabin of the woodsman, and the rural home of the farmer are the true citadels of any country. There is a dignity in honest toil which belongs not to the display of wealth or the luxury of fashion. The man who drives the plough, or swings his axe in the forest, or with cunning fingers plies the tools of his craft, is as truly the servant of his country, as the statesman in the senate or the soldier in battle. The safety of a nation depends not alone on the wisdom of its statesmen or the bravery of its generals. The tongue of eloquence never saved a nation tottering to its fall; the sword of a warrior never stayed its destruction. There is a surer defence in every Christian home. I say Christian home, for I allow of no glory to manhood which comes not from the cross. I know of no rights wrung from tyranny, no truth rescued from darkness and bigotry, which has not awaited on a Christian civilization.
Would you see the image of true glory, I would show you villages where the crown and glory of the people was in Christian schools, where the voice of prayer goes heaven-ward, where the people have that most priceless gift—faith in God. With this as the basis, and leavened as it will be with brotherly love, there will be no danger in grappling with any evils which exist in our midst; we shall feel that we may work and bide our time, and die knowing that God will bring victory. Bishop Whipple.
We celebrate to-day no idle tradition—the deeds of no fabulous race; for we tread in the scarcely obliterated footsteps of an earnest and valiant generation of men, who dared to stake life, and fortune, and sacred honor, upon a declaration of rights, whose promulgation shook tyrants on their thrones, gave hope to fainting freedom, and reformed the political ethics of the world.
The greatest heroes of former days have sought renown in schemes of conquest, based on the love of dominion or the thirst for war; and such had been the worship of power in the minds of men, that adulation had ever followed in the wake of victory. How daring then the trial of an issue between a handful of oppressed and outlawed colonists, basing their cause, under God, upon an appeal to the justice of mankind and their own few valiant arms. And how immeasurably great was he, the fearless commander, who, after the fortunes and triumphs of battle were over, scorned the thought of a regal throne for a home in the hearts of his countryman. Amidst the rejoicings of this day, let us mingle something of gratitude with our joy—something of reverence with our gratitude—and something of duty with our reverence.
Let us cultivate personal independence in the spirit of loyalty to the State. and may God grant that we may always be able to maintain the sovereignty of the State in the spirit of integrity to the Union. Thus shall still be shed imperishable honors upon the American name thus perpetuated, through all coming time, the heritage which has been bequeathed to us by our fathers. Whatever shall be the fate of other governments, ours thus sustained, shall stand forever. As has been elsewhere said, nation after nation may rise and fall, kingdoms and empires crumble into ruin, but our own native land, gathering energy and strength from the lapse of time, shall go on and still go on its destined way to greatness and renown. And when thrones shall crumble into dust, when sceptres and diadems shall have been forgotten, till Heaven's last thunder shall shake the world below, the flag of the republic shall still wave on, and its Stars, its Stripes, and its Eagle, shall still float in pride, and strength, and glory,
"Whilst the earth bears, a plant,Or the sea rolls a wave."
A. H. Rice.
Why did these Southerners make war upon the country, converting their own domain into a receptacle of stolen goods, and the hiding-place of mercenaries, murderers, and madmen, and ours into one vast recruiting tent? Tell me, you cowardly and traitorous Northmen, who talk about peace before the last armed foe has expired on the soil his attainted blood defiles, or of compromise, while yet the walls of our hospitals resound with the groans of the mangled, and are damp with the death-dew of the expiring? Tell me, you traitors, Davis, Pickens, Stephens, and Floyd? what do you say provoked you to the point where forbearance ceased to be a virtue? What had we of the North usurped that belonged to you? I inquire not now of what some among us may have said. I challenge any act of usurpation by the non-slaveholding States against your rights as members of the confederacy. Facts are incontrovertible. What had we done? What provision of the Federal Constitution had we violated? For once lay aside your declamation and abuse, and soberly and truthfully state your grievances.
You know, and we know, and the world knows, that we made no encroachment upon your reserved rights as a party to the compact between your fathers and ours. You know, also, that we have been so terrified at your reiterated threats against the family peace and general welfare, that, in our anxiety to preserve national concord, we have sacrificed personal honor and State pride. You called us "mudsills" and "greasy mechanics," until labor almost began to be ashamed of its God-given dignity. You beat our representatives in the national council chambers, because they expressed the views of those whom they served. You denied us freedom of speech in all your borders. This and much else, before the last burden, which broke our uncomplaining patience into active, and, as you are destined to learn, terrible resistance and deserved retribution. But what had we done? How sinned against you? In 1820 you wanted a geographical limit assigned to your peculiar institution and we passed the law known as the Missouri Compromise. You got sick of this when it appeared that slavery would not be a gainer thereby, as it was supposed, and begged a repeal of the act. It was repealed. In 1850, you clamored for further legislation in favor of your property in human beings, and the fugitive slave law was placed on the nation's statute book. You continually cried, "Give, give!" and we gave. But nothing would satisfy your rapacity; you had resolved to quarrel with us. Do you remind me that we did not return your escaped slaves? This is only half the truth. Whenever you came after your chattel, with legal proofs of ownership, we caught and caged him, and sent him back to you, often at our own expense. If you did not think it worth your while to hunt up your runaway, it was none of our concern. Sometimes a man among us, more of a humanitarian than a jurisconsult, and better versed in the law of nature than the law of the land, illegally, but conscientiously, aided your bondman to escape. John Brown did so, and you hanged him for it! But no State, as such, and no authority within a State, ever hesitated or refused to fulfil its constitutional obligations to you on this head. But you did not mean to be satisfied. You meant to rebel. You have rebelled, and you must abide the consequences. R. Busteed.
What parent, as he conducts his son to Mount Auburn or to Bunker Hill, will not, as he pauses before their monumental statues, seek to heighten his reverence for virtue, for patriotism, for science, for learning, for devotion to the public good, as he bids him contemplate the form of that grave and venerable Winthrop, who left his pleasant home in England to come and found a new republic in this untrodden wilderness; of that ardent and intrepid Otis, who first struck out the spark of American independence; of that noble Adams, its most eloquent champion on the floor of Congress; of that martyr Warren, who laid down his life in its defense; of that self-taught Bowditch, who, without a guide, threaded the starry mazes of the heavens; of that Story, honored at home and abroad as one of the brightest luminaries of the law, and, by a felicity of which I believe there is no other example, admirably portrayed in marble by his son? What citizen of Boston, as he accompanies the stranger around our streets, guiding him through our busy thoroughfares, to our wharves, crowded with vessels which range every sea and gather the produce of every climate, up to the dome of this capitol, which commands as lovely a landscape as can delight the eye or gladden the heart, will not, as he calls his attention at last to the statues of Franklin and Webster, exclaim:—"Boston takes pride in her natural position, she rejoices in her beautiful environs, she is grateful for her material prosperity; but richer than the merchandise stored in palatial warehouses, greener than the slopes of sea-girt islets, lovelier than this encircling panorama of land and sea, of field and hamlet, of lake and stream, of garden and grove, is the memory of her sons, native and adopted; the character, services and fame of those who have benefited and adorned their day and generation. Our children, and the schools at which they are trained, our citizens, and the services they have rendered:—these are our monuments, these are our jewels, these our abiding treasures." E. Everett.
I call the war which the Confederates are waging against the Union a "Rebellion," because it is one, and in grave matters it is best to call things by their right names. I speak of it as a crime, because the Constitution of the United States so regards it, and puts "rebellion" on a par with "invasion." The Constitution and law not only of England, but of every civilized country regard them in the same light; or rather they consider the rebel in arms as far worse than the alien enemy. To levy war against the United States is the constitutional definition of treason, and that crime is, by every civilized government: regarded as the highest which citizen or subject can commit. Not content with the sanctions of human justice, of all the crimes against the law of the land it is singled out for the denunciations of religion. The litanies of every church in Christendom, as far as I am aware, from the metropolitan cathedrals of Europe to the humblest missionary chapel in the islands of the sea, concur with the Church of England in imploring the Sovereign of the universe, by the most awful adjurations which the heart of man can conceive or his tongue utter, to deliver us from "sedition, privy conspiracy and rebellion." And reason good,—for while a rebellion against tyranny; a rebellion designed, after prostrating arbitrary power, to establish free government on the basis of justice and truth, is an enterprise on which good men and angels may look with complacency; an unprovoked rebellion of ambitious men against a beneficent government, for the purpose—the avowed purpose-of establishing, extending, and perpetuating any form of injustice and wrong, is an imitation on earth of that first foul revolt of "the Infernal serpent," against which the Supreme Majesty of Heaven sent forth the armed myriads of his angels, and clothed the right arm of his Son with the three-bolted thunders of Omnipotence.
Lord Bacon, "in the true marshalling of the sovereign degrees of honor," assigns the first place to "the Conditores Imperiorum, founders of States and Commonwealths "; and truly to build up from the discordant elements of our nature; the passions, the interests, and the opinions of the individual man; the rivalries of family, clan, and tribe; the influences of climate and geographical position; the accidents of peace and war accumulated for ages, to build up, from these oftentimes warring elements, a well-compacted, prosperous and powerful State, if it were to be accomplished by one effort, or in one generation, would require a more than mortal skill. To contribute in some notable degree to this the greatest work of man, by wise and patriotic counsel in peace, and loyal heroism in war, is as high as human merit can well rise, and far more than to any of those to whom Bacon assigns this highest place of honor, whose names can hardly be repeated without a wondering smile,—Romulus; Cyrus, Cæsar, Ottoman, Israel,—is it due to our Washington, as the founder of the American Union. But if to achieve or help to achieve this greatest work of man's wisdom and virtue gives title to a place among the chief benefactors, rightful heirs of the benedictions, of mankind, by equal reason shall the bold bad men who seek to undo the noble work,—Eversores Imperiorum, destroyers of States,—who for base and selfish ends rebel against beneficent governments, seek to overturn wise constitutions, to lay powerful republican unions at the foot of foreign thrones, bring on civil and foreign war, anarchy at home, dictation abroad, desolation, ruin,—by equal reason, I say, yes a thousand fold stronger, shall they inherit the execrations of ages. E. Everett.
How bright are the honors which await those who with sacred fortitude and patriotic patience have endured all things that they might save their native land from division and from the power of corruption. The honored dead! They that die for a good cause are redeemed from death. Their names are gathered and garnered. Their memory is precious. Each place grows proud for them who were born there. There is to be, ere long, in every village, and in every neighborhood, a glowing pride in its martyred heroes. Tablets shall preserve their names. Pious love shall renew their inscriptions as time and the unfeeling elements efface them. And the national festivals shall give multitudes of precious names to the orator's lips. Children shall grow up under more sacred inspirations, whose elder brothers dying nobly for their country, left a name that honored and inspired all who bore it. Orphan children shall find thousands of fathers and mothers to love and help those whom dying heroes left as a legacy to the gratitude of the public.
Oh, tell me not that they are dead—that generous hosts that airy army of invisible heroes. They hover as a cloud of witnesses above this nation. Are they dead that yet speak louder than we can speak, and a more universal language? Are they dead that yet act? Are they dead that yet move upon society, and inspire the people with nobler motives and more heroic patriotism?
Ye that mourn, let gladness mingle with your tears. It was your son: but now he is the nation's. He made your household bright: now his example inspires a thousand households. Dear to his brothers and sister's, he is now brother to every generous youth in the land. Before, he was narrowed, appropriated, shut up to you. Now he is augmented, set free, and given to all. Before he was yours: he is ours. He has died from the family that he might live to the nation. Not one name shall be forgot ten or neglected: and it shall by-and-by be confessed of our modern heroes, as it is of an ancient hero, that he did more for his country by his death than by his whole life.
Neither are they less honored who shall bear through life the marks of wounds and sufferings. Neither epaulette nor badge is so honorable as wounds received in a good cause. Many a man shall envy him who henceforth limps. So strange is the transforming power of patriotic ardor, that men shall almost covet disfigurement. Crowds will give way to hobbling cripples, and uncover in the presence of feebleness and helplessness. And buoyant children shall pause in their noisy games, and with loving rererence honor them whose hands can work no more, and whose feet are no longer able to march except upon that journey which brings good men to honor and immortality. Oh, mother of lost children! set not in darkness nor sorrow whom a nation honors. Oh, mourners of the early dead, they shall live again, and live forever. Your sorrows are our gladness. The nation lives because you gave it men that love it better than their own lives. And when a few more days shall have cleared the perils from around the nation's brow, and she shall sit in unsullied garments of liberty, with justice upon her forehead, love in her eyes, and truth upon her lips, she shall not forget those whose blood gave vital currents to her heart, and whose life, given to her, shall live with her life till time shall be no more.
Every mountain and hill shall have its treasured name, every river shall keep some solemn title, every valley and every lake shall cherish its honored register; and till the mountains are worn out, and the rivers forget to flow, till the clouds are weary of replenishing springs, and the springs forget to gush, and the rills to sing, shall their names be kept fresh with reverent honors which are inscribed upon the book of National Remembrance. H. W. Beecher.
Few of those engaged in this rebellion will ever be made to suffer in their persons; and if they are to be left in the full possession and enjoyment of their cotton, their lands, and their negroes, the innocent will have been made to suffer while the guilty will go unpunished. Shall the fathers of the gallant sons whose mangled bodies have been borne back to Illinois by hundreds, from the bloody fields of Belmont, of Donelson, and Pea Ridge, be ground down by onerous taxes, which shall descend upon their children to the third and fourth generations, to defray the expenses of defending the Government against traitors, and we forbear to touch even the property of the authors of these calamities, whose persons are beyond our reach? Suppose ye that the loyal people of this country will submit to such injustice?
I believe I represent as loyal, as patriotic and as brave a constituency as any other Senator. I claim nothing more. While I am proud of the part which the soldiers of my own State took in defeating the enemy in the West, I do not claim for them any superiority over the other soldiers of the Republic. The brave men who besieged Donelson, and who, after fighting through the day for three consecutive days, lay each night on the ground without shelter, exposed to the rain and sleet, were chiefly Illinoisans. It was there that rebellion received the heavy blow which has staggered it ever since. Forty dead bodies were borne from that bloody field to one small town in my State, and buried in a common grave. The Union forces at Pea Ridge were also largely made up of soldiers from Illinois. Suppose ye that I can go back to Illinois, among the relatives of those who have been cruelly destroyed, and propose to levy taxes upon them in order to conciliate and compensate the murderers, for that is really what exempting rebel property from confiscation amounts to? Sir, I know not if they would submit to such injustice; and yet there are those who not only talk of an amnesty to the men who have brought these troubles upon the country, but oppose providing the mild punishment of confiscation of property for those who shall continue hereafter to war upon the Government, and whose persons are beyond our reach. Do gentlemen regard it as conciliatory to oblige us to lay taxes upon those whose habitations have been consumed, to reward those who have burned them? upon those whose whole property has been stolen, to reward the thieves? upon those whose relatives have been slain, to compensate the murderers? In my judgment, justice, humanity, and mercy herself all demand that we at once provide that the supporters of this cruel and wicked rebellion should henceforth be made to feel its burdens. When the rebels, whose hands are dripping with the blood of loyal citizens, shall have grounded their arms, it will be time enough to talk of clemency; but to have our sympathies excited in their behalf now, when fighting to overthrow the Government, is cruelty to the loyal men who have rallied to its support. L. Trumbull.
Sir, what are the remedies that are proposed for the present condition of things, and what have they been from the beginning? They have been propositions of compromise; and Senators have spoken of peace, and of the horrors of civil war; and gentlemen who have contended for the right of the people of the Territories to regulate their own affairs, and who have been horrified at the idea of a geographical line dividing free States from slave States, free territory from slave territory,—and we have proclaimed that the great principle upon which the Revolution was fought was that of the right of the people to govern themselves, and that it was a monstrous doctrine for Congress to interfere in any way with its own Territories—these gentlemen come forward here with propositions to divide the country on a geographical line; and not only that, but to establish slavery south of the line; and they call this the Missouri Compromise! The proposition known as the Crittenden Compromise is no more like the Missouri Compromise than is the government of Turkey like that of the United States. The Missouri Compromise was a law declaring that in all the territory which we had acquired from Louisiana, north of a certain line of latitude, slavery or involuntary servitude should never exist. But it said nothing about the establishment of slavery south of that line. It was a compromise made in order to admit Missouri into the Union as a slave State, in 1820. That was the consideration for the exclusion of slavery from all the country north of 36° 30'. Now, sir, I have no objection to the restoration of the Missouri Compromise as it stood in 1854, when the Kansas-Nebraska Bill repealed it.
The proposition known as the Crittenden Compromise declares not only that "in the territory south of the said line of latitude, slavery of the African race is thereby recognized as existing, and shall not be interfered with by Congress;" but it provides further, that, in the territory we shall hereafter acquire south of that line, slavery shall be recognized, and not interfered with by Congress; but "shall be protected as property by all the departments of the territorial government during its continuance;" so that, if we make acquisitions on the south of territories now free, and where by the laws of the land the footsteps of slavery have never been, the moment we acquire jurisdiction over them, the moment the stars and stripes of the Republic float over those free territories, they carry with them African slavery, established beyond the power of Congress and beyond the power of any territorial legislature or of the people, to keep it out: and we are told that this is the Missouri Compromise!
Now, sir, why cannot we have peace, I ask, upon the compromise measures of 1850? Why disturb them? They were enacted by great men. They gave peace to the country. Why is it necessary now to overturn them? Restore the old Missouri Compromise as it stood; let us go back to the settlement made in 1850, and there let us stand. What more would Senators have? The South were satisfied with that settlement. Have we disturbed it? Are we proposing to disturb it? Not at all. You yourselves disturbed it, and brought these difficulties upon the country.
I have always insisted that the people of the Northern States were in no manner responsible for slavery in the Southern states; and why? Because they had no power in regard to it. Each State has a right to manage its own domestic affairs. I will not interfere with it where I have no authority by the Constitution to interfere; but I will never consent, the people of my State will never consent, the people of the great Northwest, numbering more in white population than all your Southern States together, never will consent by their act to establish African slavery anywhere. No, sir; I will never agree to put into the Constitution of the country a clause establishing or making perpetual slavery anywhere. No, sir; no human being shall ever be made a slave by my vote. Not one single foot of God's soil shall ever be dedicated to African slavery by my act—never! Never! L. Trumbull.
The Senator from Kentucky stands up here in opposition to what he sees is the overwhelming sentiment of the Senate, and utters reproof, malediction and prediction combined. I would ask him, sir, what would you havre us to do now—a rebel army within twenty mites of us, advancing or threatening to advance to destroy your Government? Will the Senator yield to rebellion? Will he shrink from armed insurrection? Will his State justify it? Will its better public opinion allow it? Shall we send a flag of truce? What would he have? Or would he conduct this war so feebly that the whole world would smile at us in derision? What would he have? These speeches of his, sown broadcast over the land—what clear, distinct meaning have they? Are they not intended for disorganization in our very midst? Are they not intended to dull our weapons? Are they not intended to destroy our zeal? Are they not intended to animate our enemies? Sir, are they not words of brilliant, polished treason, even in the very Capitol of the Confederacy?
Be with the enemy or with us.
I come, then, to emancipation. And, first, I ask my countrymen to proclaim emancipation to the slaves as a matter of necessity to ourselves; for unless it be by accident, we are not to come out of this contest as one nation, except by emancipation. Confiscation of the property of the rebels may be necessary and just; but it is not enough. It will not save us in "this rugged and awful crisis." It is inadequate to meet the exigency in which the country is placed. We must have emancipation. The political salvation of the country demands it; and it is inevitable. The time is approaching when emancipation must take place, and we have now, I think, only a choice of ways. Emancipation may be achieved by the slaves themselves; it may be effected by the Government of the United States; it may come through the desperation of the slaveholding rebels themselves. But come it must. I say, then, let us, at the head of our armies, on the soil of South Carolina, proclaim Freedom—freedom to all her slaves, and then enforce the proclamation as far and as fast as we have opportunity. Let the blow fall first on that State which first rebelled, as a warning and a penalty for her perfidy in this business, which began at the moment that her delegates penned their names to the Constitution.
Next, Florida, impotent in her treachery, with less than a hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, and with property not equal to that of a single ward in this city, and that purchased with the money of the people,—emancipate her slaves, and invite the refugees from slavery in the South, for the moment to assemble there, if they desire, and take possession of the soil.
And next in this work of emancipation I name Texas, a State purchased by a costly war with Mexico and which went out of the Union because she could not extend slavery in the Union. Let us teach her people that in the Union or out of the union, slavery is not to be extended. Emancipate the slaves in Texas, and invite men from the army, invite men from the North, invite men from Ireland, invite men from Germany,—the friends of freedom, of every name and every nation?—bid them welcome to the millions of acres of fertile lands we shall there confiscate, and they will form a barrier of freemen, a wall of liberty, over which, or through which, or beneath which it will be impossible for slavery to extend itself.
These three States may be sufficient for warning, for refuge, and for security against the spread of slavery; but I would have it distinctly understood, that by the next anniversary of the birth of the Father of his Country, we shall emancipate the slaves in all the disloyal and rebellious States if they do not previously return to their allegiance.
But justice to the slaves, no less than necessity to us, demands emancipation. Certainly they have been subjected to a sufficient apprenticeship under slavery, through two centuries, to prepare them for freedom if ever they are to be prepared. I say, then, justice to the slave demands emancipation. Let us maintain the principles of the declaration of Independence. The fundamental difference on which the North and South have divided for thirty years is on that part of the Declaration which says "All men are created equal." They have denied it; we have undertaken to maintain it. Jefferson meant, when he penned that immortal truth, not that men are equal physically, intellectually, or morally, but that no one is born under any political subserviency to his fellow man. Let us maintain the doctrine now. These slaves are men; Jefferson did not hesitate to call them "brethren." The declaration concerning the equality of men applies to them as to us; and now that in the progress of events the South has relieved us from responsibility in regard to eleven disloyal States, let us stand forth as a nation in our original strength and purity, maintaining the ideas to which our fathers gave utterance. That we may have ground on which to stand and defend ourselves in this contest, let us declare in the presence of these slaveholders and rebels, in the presence of Europe, that we proclaim THE EQUALITY OF ALL MEN. G. S. Boutwell.
Mr. President and Fellow-citizens—At the request of the Committee of Arrangements, I am present as a spectator, to witness the imposing and grand ceremonies of this interesting occasion, and reluctantly to express in words my great gratification at the progress that has been made in the restoration of Louisiana to the Union of States, and in the majestic evidence before me of the returning loyalty of its people. I have watched with the deepest interest the momentous events in the struggle through which we are passing, from its inception to the present hour. In common with the mass of my countrymen I have sorrowed at reverses, and rejoiced in victories. I have mourned over the heroes who have fallen on the field of battle—my brothers in blood, my brothers in arms—and have joined in the honors which a grateful people have showered upon the gallant spirits who upon the sea and upon the land have led our hosts to victory. They never can be forgotten. Day by day and hour by hour, I have observed the receding armies of the enemy, until more than half the territory covered by the shadow of the rebel flag at the beginning of the war, has fallen into the possession of the Government, and is covered by the Stars and Stripes—the emblem of Liberty, now and forever, here and everywhere.
We have, indeed, enough to rejoice our hearts in the progress of our armies, and to give joy to the festivities of this glad hour,—
"But much remainsTo conquer still. Peace hath her victoriesNo less renowned than war."
In order to maintain the ground we have recovered with such terrible sacrifice of precious life, and to enable the gallant leaders and heroic men of our armies to retire to the walks of civil life again, it is necessary that civil institutions of government should be reëstablished, and a new, subdued, yet patriotic spirit, like that which held
"The helm of Rome, when robes, not arms,Repelled the fierce Epirote and the bold African,"
should animate our people and restore the pristine purity and power of the nation.
Louisiana has not been faithless to her duties, nor is she now, nor will she be in the future. Among the truest spirits in the hour of trial were her sons and her daughters. Among the bravest and truest upon the field of battle have been her volunteers. She was the first in this great revolution of ideas rather than arms, to organize her public schools upon a war footing, and infuse into the uncorrupted hearts of their pupils this new sentiment of nationality, by the daily repetition, with the morning prayers, of the magnificent anthems of American liberty. She was the first to institute the system of compensated labor, that makes the restoration of the institution of slavery on this continent impossible that compels us to prepare for the elevation of the oppressed race among us, and the ultimate recognition of all their rights. She is the first in this revolution of ideas to give to the social element of the people a national interest and a national spirit in the great drama of life through which we are passing. And here, to-day, with this splendid pageant—here, to-day, at the inauguration which consummates an election by the people of more than ordinary purity and of unrestricted freedom—here, to-day she is to recognize, as a national sentiment for the new age and the new history, the doctrine that Union AND Liberty, now and forever, must be, and will be, one and inseparable.
In proportion to the confidence with which the people of the American continent shall view the results of this day's history so will arise, in all parts of our land, a cry of joy as of a people liberated from the bondage of slavery and death. And from the hearthstone and the altar will arise the prayer of the good and wise, that this first gleam of light will prove a joyful harbinger of a perpetual day of peace, prosperity, and power. N. P. Banks.
This Book has taken such a hold on the world as no other. The literature of Greece, which goes up like incense from that land of temples and heroic deeds, has not half the influence of this Book from a nation alike despised in ancient and modern times. It is read of a Sunday in all the thirty thousand pulpits of our land. In all the temples of Christendom is its voice lifted up, week by week. The sun never sets on its gleaming page. It goes equally to the cottage of the plain man and the palace of the king. It is woven into the literature of the scholar, and colors the talk of the street. The bark of the merchant cannot sail the sea without it; no ship of war goes to the conflict but the Bible is there! It enters men's closets; mingles in all the grief and cheerfulness of life. The affianced maiden prays God in Scripture for strength in her new duties; men are married by Scripture. The Bible attends them in their sickness; when the fever of the world is on them, the aching head finds a softer pillow if such leaves lie underneath. The mariner, escaping from shipwreck, clutches this first of his treasures, and keeps it sacred to God. It goes with the peddler, in his crowded pack; cheers him at eventide, when he sits down dusty and fatigued; brightens the freshness of his morning face. It blesses us when we are born; gives names to half Christendom; rejoices with us; has sympathy for our mourning; tempers our grief to finer issues. It is the better part of our sermons. It lifts man above himself; our best of uttered prayers are its storied speech, wherewith our fathers and the patriarchs prayed.
The timid man, about awaking from this dream of life, looks through the glass of Scripture and his eye grows bright; he does not fear to stand alone, to tread the way unknown and distant, to take the death-angel by the hand, and bid farewell to wife, and babes, and home. Men rest on this their dearest hopes. It tells them of God, and of his blessed Son; of earthly duties and of heavenly rest. Foolish men find it the source of Plato's wisdom, and the science of Newton, and the art of Raphael; wicked men use it to rivet the fetters of the slave. Men who believe nothing else that is Spiritual, believe the Bible all through; without this they would not confess, say they, even that there was a God. T. Parker.
For this deep and lasting power of the Bible there must be an adequate cause. That nothing comes of nothing is true all the world over. It is no light thing to hold, with an electric chain, a thousand hearts, though but an hour, beating and bounding with such fiery speed. What is it then to hold the Christian world, and that for centuries? Are men fed with chaff and husks? The authors we reckon great, whose word is in the newspaper, and the market-place, whose articulate breath now sways the nation's mind, will soon pass away, giving place to other great men of a season, who in their turn shall follow them to eminence and then to oblivion. Some thousand "famous writers" come up in this century, to be forgotten in the next. But the silver cord of the Bible is not loosed, nor its golden bowl broken, as Time chronicles its tens of centuries passed by. Has the human race gone mad? Time sits as a refiner of metal; the dross is piled in forgotten heaps, but the pure gold is reserved for use, passes into the ages, and is current a thousand years hence as well as to-day. It is only real merit that can long pass for such. Tinsel will rust in the storms of life. False weights are soon detected there. It is only a heart that can speak deep and true, to a heart; a mind to a mind; a soul to a soul; wisdom to the wise, and religion to the pious. There must then be in the Bible, mind, conscience, heart and soul, wisdom and religion. Were it otherwise, how could millions find it in their lawgiver, friend, and prophet? Some of the greatest of human institutions seem built on the Bible; such things will not stand on heaps of chaff but on mountains of rocks. T. Parker.
What we have to do is clear. The dictate of wisdom, the impulse of patriotism, the instinct of safety and preservation, the lessons of the past, the hopes of the future, all bid us uphold the constitutional Government of the United States, and by the power of force—a power which, of necessity, underlies all government—carry it triumphantly through this conflict, till its legitimate results are attained. Upon this power of force, the conspirators against this Government have relied from the beginning. They have expected to appeal to it, as is evident from the extent to which the Northern forts, arsenals, and people have been robbed of arms and munitions of war, which, during the last administration, were sent into the Southern States in numbers altogether disproportionate to their population, and unauthorized by law. If they believed in the right of peaceable secession from the Government of the United States, as a right clearly admitted and secured by the Constitution, it is strange that they should have made such far-sighted preparations to maintain this right by forcible resistance to its authority. To this power, these conspirators and those whom they had beguiled from their allegiance, made a direct appeal when they fired their first shot upon Fort Sumter. This appeal, the United States Government is compelled to meet, and by the strong arm of its military power, at the point of the bayonet, and beneath the smoke and blaze of its guns, enforce the obedience which reason, if it had not been dethroned, would never have refused, and recover the allegiance which patriotism, if it had not been deceived and bewildered, would never have relinquished. In this case, it is not the Government that inaugurates civil war, but the men who, by treason and rebellion, are seeking to overturn it; and for this gigantic crime,—the crime of disturbing the peace of thirty millions of people, of attempting to dismember a Union fraught with manifest advantages to all embraced in it, and to overturn, by force, a Government benignant in its sway, and mighty in its protection, its benefits, and its blessings,—for this crime they have no justification.
Under civil institutions, republican and representative in their character, where there are legitimate, constitutional channels provided for the expression of the popular will, through which the Government can be modified, its organic or its statute laws reached, altered, amended, so as to meet the wishes of the majority, or protect the rights of a minority, there can be no justification of rebellion that will stand before the world, or secure a verdict of approval from the pen of impartial history. If we would secure for ourselves that approval, let us stand be this constitutional Government of the United States, and at whatever cost, carry it thorough to the legitimate results of this conflict. S. K. Lothrop.
Lay down the axe, fling by the spade:Leave in its track the toiling plough;The rifle and the bayonet-bladeFor arms like yours were fitter now;And let the hands that ply the penQuit the light task, and learn to wieldThe horseman's crooked brand, and reinThe charger on the battle-field.
Our country calls; away! away!To where the blood-stream blots the green,Strike to defend the gentlest swayThat Time in all his course has seen.See, from a thousand coverts—seeSpring the armed foes that haunt her track;They rush to smite her down, and weMust beat the banded traitors back.
Ho! sturdy as the oaks ye cleave,And moved as soon to fear and flight,Men of the glade and forest! leaveYour woodcraft for the field of fight.The arms that wield the axe must pourAn iron tempest on the foe;His serried ranks shall reel beforeThe arm that lays the panther low.
And ye who breast the mountain stormBy grassy steep or highland lake,Come, for the land ye love, to formA bulwark that no foe can break.Stand, like your own gray cliff's that mockThe whirlwind; stand in her defence:The blast as soon shall move the rockAs rushing squadron's bear ye thence.
And ye, whose homes are by her grandSwift rivers, rising far away,Come from the depth of her green landAs mighty in your march as they;As terrible as when the rainsHave swelled them over bank and bourn,With sudden floods to drown the plainsAnd sweep along the woods uptorn.
And ye who throng, beside the deep,Her ports and hamlets of the strand,In number like the waves that leapOn his long murmuring marge of sand,Come, like that deep, when, o'er his brim,He rises, all his floods to pour,And flings the proudest barks that swim,A helpless wreck against the shore.
Few, few were they whose swords, of old,Won the fair land in which we dwell;But we are many, we who holdThe grim resolve to guard it well.Strike for that broad and goodly land,Blow after blow, till men shall seeThat Might and Right move hand in hand,And glorious must their triumph be.W. C. Bryant.
O country, marvel of the earth!O realm to sudden greatness grown!The age that gloried in thy birth,Shall it behold thee overthrown?Shall traitors lay that greatness low?No, Land of Hope and Blessing, No!
And we who wear thy glorious name,Shall we, like cravens, stand apart,When those whom thou hast trusted, aimThe death-blow at thy generous heart?Forth goes the battle-cry, and lo!Hosts rise in harness, shouting, No!
And they who founded, in our land,The power that rules from sea to sea,Bled they in vain, or vainly plannedTo leave their country great and free?Their sleeping ashes, from below,Send up the thrilling murmur, No!
Knit they the gentle ties which longThese sister States were proud to wear,And forged the kindly links so strongFor idle hands in sport to tear—For scornful hands aside to throw?No, by our fathers' memories, No!
Our humming marts, our iron ways,Our wind-tossed woods on mountain crest,The hoarse Atlantic, with his bays,The calm, broad Ocean of the West,And Mississippi's torrent flow,And loud Niagara, answer, No!
Not yet the hour is nigh, when theyWho deep in Eld's dim twilight sit,Earth's ancient kings, shall rise and say,"Proud country, welcome to the pit!So soon art thou, like us, brought low?"No, sullen group of shadows, No!
For now, behold the arm that gaveThe victory in our fathers' day,Strong as of old, to guard and save—That mighty arm which none can stay—On clouds above and fields below,Writes, in men's sight, the answer, No!W. C. Bryant.
At last, at last, each glowing starIn that pure field of heavenly blue,On every people shining far,Burns, to its utmost promise true.
Hopes in our fathers' hearts that stirred,Justice, the seal of peace, long scorned,O perfect peace! too long deferred,At last, at last, your day has dawned.
Your day has dawned, but many an hourOf storm and cloud, of doubt and tears,Across the eternal sky must lower,Before the glorious noon appears.
And not for us that noontide glow:For us the strife and toil shall be;But welcome toil, for now we knowOur children shall that glory see.
At last, at last, O Stars and Stripes!Touched in your birth by Freedom's flame,Your purifying lightning wipesOut from our history its shame.
Stand to your faith, America!Sad Europe listen to our call!Up to your manhood, Africa!That gracious flag floats over all.
And when the hour seems dark with doom,Our sacred banner, lifted higher,Shall flash away the gathering gloomWith inextinguishable fire.
Pure as its white the future see!Bright as its red is now the sky!Fixed as its stars the faith shall be,That nerves our hands to do or die.G. W. Curtis
For the peace which rings out from the cannons' throat,And the suasion of shot and shell,Till Rebellion's spirit is trampled downTo the depths of its kindred hell.
For the peace which shall follow the squadron's tramp,Where the brazen trumpets bray,And, drunk with the fury of storm and strife,The blood-red chargers neigh.
For the peace which shall wash out the leprous stainOf our slavery—foul and grim,And shall sunder the fetters which creak and clankOn the down-trodden dark man's limb.
I will curse him as traitor, and false of heart,Who would shrink from the conflict now,And will stamp it, with blistering, burning brand,On his vitreous, Cain-like brow.
Out! out of the way! with your spurious peace,Which would make us Rebellion's slaves;We will rescue our land from the traitorous grasp,Or cover it with our graves.
Out! out of the way! with your knavish schemes!You trembling and trading pack!Crouch away in the dark, like a sneaking houndThat its master has beaten back.
You would barter the fruit of our fathers' blood,And sell out the Stripes and Stars,To purchase a place with Rebellion's votes,Or escape from Rebellion's scars.
By the widow's wail, by the mother's tears,By the orphans who cry for bread,By our sons who fell, we will never yieldTill Rebellion's soul is dead.Anonymous.
Toll! Roland, toll!In Old St. Bavon's tower,At midnights hour,The great bell Roland spoke!All souls that slept in Ghent awoke!What meant the thunder stroke?Why trembled wife and maid?Why caught each man his blade?Why echoed every streetWith tramp of thronging feetAll flying to the city's wall?It was the warning callThat Freedom stood in peril of a foe!And even timid hearts grew boldWhenever Roland tolled,And every hand a sword could hold!So acted menLike patriots then,Three hundred years ago!
Toll! Roland, toll!Bell never yet was hung,Between whose lips there swungSo grand a tongue!If men be patriots still,At thy first soundTrue hearts will bound,Great souls will thrill!Then toll and strike the testThrough each man's breast,Till loyal hearts shall stand confess'd,—And may God's wrath smite all the rest!
Toll! Roland, toll!Not now in old St. Bavon's tower-Notnow at midnight hour—Not now from River Scheldt to Zuyder Zee,But here,—this side the sea!—.Toll here, in broad, bright day!-Fornot by night awaitsA noble foe without the gates,But perjured friends within betray,And do the deed at noon!Toll! Roland, toll!Thy sound is not too soon!To Arms! Ring out the Leader's call!Reëcho it from East to West,Till every hero's breastShall swell beneath a soldier's crest!Toll! Roland, toll!Till cottager from cottage wallSnatch pouch and powder-horn and gun!The sire bequeathed them to the son,When only half their work was done!Toll! Roland, toll!Till swords from scabbards leap!Toll! Roland, toll!What tears can widows weepLess bitter than when brave men fall?Toll! Roland, toll!In shadowed hut and smallShall lie the soldier's pall,And hearts shall break while graves are filled!Amen! So God has willed!And may his grace anoint us all!
Toll! Roland, toll!The Dragon on thy towerStands sentry to this hour,And Freedom so stands safe in Ghent!And the merrier bells now ring,And in the land's serene contentMen shout "God save the King!"Until the skies are rent!So let it be;For a kingly king is heWho keeps his people free!Toll! Roland, toll!Ring out across the sea!No longer They but WeHave now such need of thee!Toll! Roland, toll!Forever may thy throatKeep dumb its warning noteTill Freedom's perils be outbraved!Toll! Roland, toll!Till Freedom's flag, wherever waved,Shall overshadow not a man enslaved!Toll! Roland, toll!From Northern lake to Southern strand,Toll! Roland, toll!Till friend and foe, at thy command,Once more shall clasp each other's hand,And shout, one-voiced, "God save the land!"And love the land that God hath saved!Toll! Roland, toll!T. Tilton.
Still first, as long and long ago,Let Massachusetts muster:Give her the post right next the foe;Be sure that you may trust her.She was the first to give her bloodFor Freedom and for Honor;She trod her soil to crimson mud:God's blessing be upon her!
She never faltered for the right,Nor ever will hereafter:Fling up her name with all your might;Shake roof-tree and shake rafter.But of old deeds she need not brag,—How she broke sword and fetter:Fling out again the old striped Flag;She'll do yet more and better.
In peace, her sails fleck all the seas;Her mills shake every river;And where are scenes so fair as theseGod and her true hands give her?In war, her claim who seek to rob?All others come in later:It is hers first to front the Mob,The Tyrant, and the Traitor.
God bless, God bless, the glorious State!Let her have way to battle!She'll go where batteries crash with fate,Or where thick rifles rattle.
Give her the Right, and let her try;And then who can may press her;She'll go straight on, or she will die:God bless her, and God bless her!R. Lowell.
"Move my arm-chair, faithful Pompey,In the sunshine bright and strong,For this world is fading, Pompey—Massa won't be with you long;And I fain would hear the south windBring once more the sound to me,Of the wavelets softly breakingOn the shores of Tennessee.
"Mournful though the ripples murmur,As they still the story tell,How no vessels float the bannerThat I've loved so long and well,I shall listen to their music,Dreaming that again I seeStars and stripes on sloop and shallop,Sailing up the Tennessee.
"And, Pompey, while old massa's waitingFor death's last despatch to come,If that exiled starry bannerShould come proudly sailing home,You shall greet it, slave no longer—Voice and hand shall both be freeThat shouts and points to Union colorsOn the waves of Tennessee."
"Massa's berry kind to Pompey;But ole darkey's happy here,Where he's tended corn and cottonFor 'ese many a long-gone year.Over yonder Missis's sleeping—No one tends her grave like me;Mebbie she would miss the flowersShe used to love in Tennessee.
"'Pears like she was watching Massa—If Pompey should beside him stay,Mebbie she'd remember betterHow for him she used to pray;Telling him that way up yonderWhite as snow his soul would be,If he served the Lord of heavenWhile he lived in Tennessee."
Silently the tears were rollingDown the poor old dusky face,As he stepped behind his master,In his long accustomed place.Then a silence fell around them,As they gazed on rock and treePictured in the placid watersOf the rolling Tennessee.
Master dreaming of the battleWhere he fought by Marion's side,When he bid the haughty TarletonStoop his lordly crest of pride.Man, remembering how yon sleeperOnce he held upon his knee,Ere she loved the gallant soldier,Ralph Vervair, of Tennessee.
Still the south wind fondly lingers'Mid the veteran's silvery hair;Still the bondman close beside himStands behind the old arm-chair,With his dark-hued hand uplifted,Shading eyes he bends to seeWhere the woodland boldly juttingTurns aside the Tennessee.
Thus he watches cloud-born shadowsGlide from tree to mountain crest,Softly creeping, aye and ever,To the river's yielding breast.Ha! above the foliage yonderSomething flutters wild and free!"Massa! Massa! Hallelujah!The flag's come back to Tennessee!"
"Pompey hold me on your shoulder,Help me stand on foot once more,That I may salute the colorsAs they pass my cabin-door.Here's the paper signed that frees you;Give a freeman's shout with me—'God and Union!' be our watchwordEvermore in Tennessee."
Then the trembling voice grew fainter,And the limbs refused to stand;One prayer to Jesus—and the soldierGlided to that better land.When the flag went down the riverMan and master both were free,While the ringdove's note was mingledWith the rippling Tennessee.E. L. Beers.
Men of action! men of might!Stern defenders of the right!Are you girded for the fight?
Have you marked and trenched the ground,Where the din of arms must sound,Ere the victor can be crowned?