Accompanying the Proclamation are supplementary provisions, called “Regulations,” prepared with care, and divided into chapters and sections,—occupying no less than ninety-one pages in double columns and small type,—by which the rights of the freedmen are secured beyond question. Beginning with the declaration that the freedmen “acquire the rights belonging to the condition of free farmers,” they then proceed in formal words to fix and assure these rights, civil and political. By one section it is provided that “the articles of the Civil Code on the rights and obligations of the family are extended to the freedmen; that consequently they acquire the right, without authorization of the proprietor, to contract marriage, and to make any arrangement whatever concerning their family affairs; that they can equally enter into all agreements and obligations authorized by the laws, as well with the State as with individuals, on the conditions established for free farmers; that they can inscribe themselves in the guilds, and exercise their trades in the villages; and they can found and conduct factories and establishments of commerce.” Another section secures to the freedmen the right of acquiring and alienating property of all kinds, according to the general law, and, besides, guaranties, on certain conditions, “the possession of their homesteads,” with the grounds appurtenant. An additional section secures them complete Equality in the courts, with “the right of action, whether civilly or criminally, to commence process, and to answer personally or by attorney, to make complaint, and to defend their rights by all the means known to the law, and to appear as witnesses and as bail, conformably to the common law.” Other sections secure to the freedmen Equality in political rights, by providing, that, “on the organization of the towns, they shall be entitled to take part in the meetings and elections for the towns, and to vote on town affairs, and to exercise divers functions”; that they shall also “take part in the assemblies for the district, and shall vote on district affairs, and choose the chairman,” and generally enjoy all rights to elect local officers and to be elected in turn. And still another section authorizes the freedmen “to place their children in the establishments for public education, to embrace the career of instruction, or the scientific career, or to take service in the corps of surveyors.” And it is further provided, that they “cannot lose their rights, or be restrained in their exercise, except after judgment of the town, according to fixed rules”; and still further, that they “cannot be subjected to any punishment, otherwise than by virtue of a judgment, or according to the legal decision of the town to which they belong.” Such are the safeguards by which Emancipation in Russia is completed and assured. Such is the lesson of the great Empire to the great Republic.
In asking that we shall do likewise, I follow the plain suggestions of reason, whether we regard the interest of the freedmen or our own. For justice to the freedmen is now intimately linked with the national security. Be just, and the Republic will be strong. Be just, and you will erect a barrier against returning Rebellion. Here Massachusetts has a duty to perform. Now, as in times past, her place is in the front. You will not, I trust, be disturbed by criticism, even if it become invective. Throughout the long conflict with Slavery, and the earlier conflict with the mother country, Massachusetts has been accustomed to hard words; and even at a more ancient day, as far back in colonial history as 1691, we find an ill-tempered critic, with a strange jumble of metaphors, crying out against our fathers: “All the frame of heaven moves upon one axis; and the whole of New England interests seem designed to be loaden on one bottom, and her particular motions to be concentric to the Massachusetts tropic. You know who are wont to trot after the Bay horse.”[242] If others trot after the Bay horse, it is simply because Massachusetts means always to keep on the right road, and by unerring instinct knows the way. Error proceeds oftener from ignorance than from malice. Obviously, at this moment, the great difficulty is that people do not see clearly what ought to be done.
Fellow-citizens, as peace seems about to smile on our country, convulsed by most cruel and costly war, there is one simple duty on which all can unite, when it is understood. It is the duty expressed in at least one part of the familiar saying, “Indemnity for the past and security for the future.” Indemnity, alas! we can never have. Who can repay the millions of lost treasure? Who can repair the shattered and mutilated forms returned from the terrible battle with Slavery? Who can recall the dead? Indemnity we renounce. There are no scales on earth in which it can be weighed. There are no possible accumulations of wealth that would not be exhausted before its first instalment was counted out. But no such difficulty can occur in adjusting security for the future. And the very vastness of our sacrifice is an irresistible reason why this should be fixed beyond question, so that the appalling judgment shall not visit us again. Indemnity we renounce; but security we will have. This is the one thing needful. This is the charity embracing all other charities. This is the pivot of the national Hereafter. This is at once corner-stone and key-stone of that reconstructed Union to which we look for tranquil peace and reconciliation. There are none so high, and there are none so low, as not to be concerned in obtaining this security; for without it all that we hold most dear will be in jeopardy. Without security, agriculture and commerce must languish and die; without security, the whole country must be impoverished in resources, while the rich become poor and the poor become poorer; without security, rights of property and rights of person will lose their value; and without security, the Union, justice, domestic tranquillity, the common defence, the general welfare, and the blessings of Liberty, for which the Constitution was ordained and established, must all fail. What is government, or country, or home, or life itself, without security?
There is another object, kindred to security, or, perhaps, embraced in security,—and that is the national faith. This, too, must be placed beyond cavil, or even suspicion. No nation can be powerful enough to disregard this sacred bond. Character, fame, and prosperity itself are all dependent on its observance. But the national faith is solemnly engaged, first, to the national freedman, and, secondly, to the national creditor. No undertaking can be more complete and inviolable, because it constituted the consideration for those services and supplies by which the life of the Republic has been preserved. The national faith is pledged to the national freedman, not only by the act of Emancipation, which, in its very essence, and from the nature of the case, is a “warranty of title,” but also by the plain and positive promises of the Proclamation, that they “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.” Words could not be more binding, and the history of their introduction testifies to their significance and efficacy. They were not in the original draught by President Lincoln, but were inserted, at the suggestion of Mr. Seward, when the Proclamation was read to the Cabinet; and there they stand without limitation of place or time, binding this Republic in its national character, through its Executive, including the military and naval authority, not only to recognize, but to maintain, the freedom of the emancipated slave; and this is to be done, not in any special locality, but everywhere,—and not for a day or a year, but for all time. Our obligation to the national creditors is of the same validity, approved by successive Acts of Congress, ratified by the popular will, and fixed beyond recall by the actual enjoyment of those precious fruits for which the debt was incurred. Repudiation of our bonds, whether to the national creditor or to the national freedman, would be a shame and a crime; and the national faith is irrevocably plighted to the two alike. Here is the Proclamation, and here is a Treasury Note. [Here Mr. Sumner held up an official copy of the Proclamation, and also a Treasury Note.] Look at the signature, and look at the terms. The former is signed by the President himself, Abraham Lincoln; the latter is signed by an unknown clerk, whose name I cannot decipher. The former is stronger and more positive in terms than the latter. The Treasury Note simply says: “It is hereby certified that the United States are indebted unto ____ or bearer in the sum of $100, redeemable” after a certain date, and that “this debt is authorized by Act of Congress.” The binding terms of the Proclamation, which I have read, are solemnly enforced by that memorable invocation at the close: “And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice warranted by the Constitution upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind and the gracious favor of Almighty God.” Thus religion comes to confirm the pledge with sanctions of its own. That pledge is as enduring as the Republic.
Such are the supreme objects now at heart: the National Security and the National Faith, or the two absorbed into one,—Security for the Future.
And here allow me to present an illustration, which, unless I mistake, will make our duty clear. You all remember the immense and costly dikes built by Holland against the sea; but perhaps you may not recall their origin and importance. Before these embankments the whole country was in constant danger. At an early period an irruption swallowed up no less than forty-four villages, followed very soon by another, which destroyed eighty thousand lives. In the fifteenth century still another swept away one hundred thousand persons,—a terrible sacrifice, even greater in proportion to the population of Holland at that time than we have been called to bear from the bloody irruption of Slavery. At last dikes were constructed as safeguards, and down to this day they are preserved at large annual cost. Precautions of all kinds are superadded. A special corps of engineers, educated at Delft, is constantly employed in the work of renovation. Watchmen patrol the walls, and alarm-bells are ready to ring. The gratitude of the people is manifest even to unconscious protectors; and the stork, resting here on his flight from Africa, is held in veneration for his precious service in destroying the vermin that weaken and sap the dikes; so that to kill a stork is little less than crime. Such are defences by which Holland is guarded against dangers from the sea. But how petty is her peril, compared with ours! We, too, must have our dikes, with engineers to keep them strong, with watchmen to patrol, with alarm-bells to ring; and we, too, must have our storks to destroy the vermin that weaken and sap our embankments.
What shall be our defences? How shall we guard against destructive irruptions? And where shall we establish our security for the future? Our embankments cannot be of earth. Walls of stone will not do. Towers, ramparts, and buttresses are impotent against our vindictive tide. The security we seek must be found in irreversible guaranties, coëxtensive with the danger.