If you would see the difference between the two parties, read the speeches and resolutions at Baltimore, and then the speeches and resolutions at Chicago. I have no time for details, even if the transactions at these two Conventions were not still fresh in the memory. Suffice it to say that the Convention at Baltimore openly and frankly pledged all its energies to the suppression of the Rebellion, and to the utter and complete extirpation of Slavery from the soil of the Republic, without compromise or hesitation of any kind. This was noble and patriotic. But nothing of this kind was done at Chicago.
The Chicago platform may be seen in two aspects,—first, in what it does say, and, secondly, in what it does not say. There are two things it does say: first, that the war for the suppression of the Rebellion is a failure; and, secondly, that there should be a cessation of hostilities. There are two things it does not say: first, it does not say anything against the Rebellion; and, secondly, it does not say anything against Slavery. And candidates are nominated on this platform. In voting for them, you affirm that the war has failed and that it ought to be stopped, while you decline to say anything against the Rebellion or against Slavery. You declare that our recent triumphs were all failures, that Grant failed at Vicksburg, that Sherman failed at Atlanta, that Farragut failed at New Orleans and Mobile, that Winslow failed against the Alabama, and that Sheridan failed in the Valley of the Shenandoah; and you further declare that all these heroes should be arrested in mid-career, while Democratic agencies take their place, and rose-water is substituted for cannon-balls. And you declare, also, that the Rebellion shall prevail, and that Slavery shall continue to degrade our country and be the seed of interminable war. All this you affirm and declare by your votes.
If anything were needed to illustrate the offensive character of this platform, it would be found in the efforts made to get away from it,—at least in this latitude. Nobody here is willing to trust it. The cry of the railroad conductor is transferred to politics,—“It is dangerous to stand on the platform.” [Laughter.] Nobody has made greater efforts to get away from it than the Presidential candidate of the Democracy, who forgets, that, as a candidate, he is born with the platform, and united to it, as the Siamese twins are united together, so that the two cannot be separated. As well cut apart Chang and Eng as cut apart McClellan and Chicago. [Laughter.] The two must go together.
The letter of McClellan is a specimen of “how not to do it.” This is the prevailing idea,—how not to stand on the platform, how not to offend the Rebels, and how not to touch Slavery. It is an ingenious wriggle and twist; but so far as the writer succeeds in getting off the platform, it is only to run upon other difficulties,—as from Scylla to Charybdis. The platform surrenders to the Rebellion; the letter surrenders to Slavery. But the Rebellion is nothing but belligerent Slavery; so that surrender to Slavery is surrender to the Rebellion. The platform discards the Union; but the letter, while professing a desire for union, discards Emancipation, without which union is impossible; and while professing a desire for peace, it discards Liberty, through which alone peace can be secured. The letter says: “The Union is the one condition of peace: we ask no more.” The Democratic candidate may ask no more; but others do. I ask more, because without more the Union is but a name. I ask more for the sake of justice and humanity, and that this terrible war may be vindicated in history. The Baltimore Convention, in its resolutions, asks more. Abraham Lincoln asks more. The country takes up the demand of the Baltimore Convention and of Abraham Lincoln, and asks more. [Applause.]
I have said that Abraham Lincoln asks more. He has asked it again and again. He asked it in his Proclamation of the 1st January, 1863, when, as commander-in-chief of the army and navy of the United States, he ordered and declared that the slaves in the Rebel States “are and henceforward shall be free, and that the Executive Government of the United States, including the military and naval authorities thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of said persons.” And he asked it again, when, in his notice “To whom it may concern,” he announced that all terms of peace must begin with “the abandonment of Slavery.”[369] But, in face of these declarations, the candidate of the Democrats mumbles forth, “The Union is the one condition of peace: we ask no more.”
It is a strange infatuation which imagines that the Rebellion can be closed without the entire abolition of Slavery. The Rebellion began with Slavery, and it will end with Slavery. As it began in no other way, so it can end in no other way. Born from Slavery, it must die with Slavery. Therefore do I insist that Slavery shall not be spared; for, in sparing Slavery, you spare the Rebellion itself. [Applause.]
But even if reason and the necessity of the case did not require the sacrifice, it is now too late, thank God! By the Proclamation of the President the freedom of all slaves in the Rebel region is secured beyond recall. That gift cannot be taken back. It was a saying of Antiquity, repeated by an exquisite poet of our own day, that “the gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.” But even if other gifts may be recalled, the gift of Freedom cannot; for its recall would be the sacrifice of human rights. Every slave declared free by that Proclamation is entitled to his freedom as much as you and I. The President himself, empowered to confer freedom, is impotent to make a slave. Look at the question as you will, in the light of morals or of jurisprudence, and the answer is the same. There is the promise of the Proclamation, by which the public faith of the country is irrevocably pledged that certain slaves “shall be henceforward free,” and their freedom shall be “recognized and maintained”; and this promise, according to morals, cannot be taken back. Still more, according to jurisprudence, it cannot be taken back; for “Once free, always free” is a prevailing maxim, and no court, sitting under the Constitution, and inspired by the Declaration of Independence, can venture to limit or restrain a proclamation of freedom, made in the exercise of war powers for the suppression of rebellion. It is vain to say that the slaves are not now in our power. This is a proper argument for the enemy, but not for any court of the United States. Every such court refusing to recognize the act of the President will stultify itself and shock the judicial conscience of mankind. It is enough that the Proclamation has declared the slaves free. There is not a slave in the Rebel region who may not look to it for protection, while it overarches all like a firmament, which human effort will strive in vain to drag down. [Applause.]
Do you need authority for this principle? Let me read you the emphatic and well-considered words of Postmaster-General Blair:—
“The people once slaves in the Rebel States can never again be recognized as such by the United States. No judicial decision, no legislative action, State or National, can be admitted to reënslave a people who are associated with our own destinies in this war of defence to save the Government, and whose manumission was deemed essential to the restoration and preservation of the Union, and to its permanent peace.”[370] [Applause.]