The ballot is protector. Perhaps, at the present moment, this is its highest function. Slavery has ceased in name; but this is all. The old master still asserts an inhuman power, and now by positive statutes seeks to bind his victim in new chains. Let this conspiracy proceed unchecked, and the freedman will be more unhappy than the early Puritan, who, seeking liberty of conscience, escaped from the “lords bishops” only to fall under the “lords elders.” The master will still be master, under another name,—as, according to Milton,
“New presbyter is but old priest writ large.”
Serfdom or apprenticeship is slavery in another guise. To save the freedman from this tyranny, with all its accumulated outrage, is a solemn duty. For this we are now devising guaranties; but, believe me, the only sufficient guaranty is the ballot. Let the freedman vote, and he will have in himself under the law a constant, ever-present, self-protecting power. The armor of citizenship will be his best security. The ballot will be to him sword and buckler,—sword with which to pierce his enemies, and buckler on which to receive their assault. Its possession will be a terror and a defence. The law, which is the highest reason, boasts that every man’s house is his castle; but the freedman can have no castle without the ballot. When the master knows that he may be voted down, he will know that he must be just, and everything is contained in justice. The ballot is like charity, which never faileth, and without which man is only as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. The ballot is the one thing needful, wanting which, rights of testimony and all other rights are no better than cobwebs, which the master will break through with impunity. To him who has the ballot all other things shall be given,—protection, opportunity, education, a homestead. The ballot is the Horn of Abundance, out of which overflow rights of every kind, with corn, cotton, rice, and all the fruits of the earth. Or, better still, it is like the hand of the body, without which, man, who is now only a little lower than the angels, must have continued only a little above the brutes. We are fearfully and wonderfully made; but as is the hand in the work of civilization, so is the ballot in the work of government. “Give me the ballot and I will move the world” may be the exclamation of the race despoiled of this right. There is nothing it cannot open with almost fabulous power, like that golden bough which in the hands of the classical adventurer unclosed the regions of another world, while, like that magic rod, it is renewed as in the verse,—
“One plucked away, a second branch you see
Shoot forth in gold and glitter through the tree.”[190]
If I crowd these illustrations, it is only that I may bring home that supreme efficacy which cannot be exaggerated. Though simple in character, there is nothing the ballot may not accomplish,—like the homely household lamp in Arabian story, which, at call of its possessor, evoked a spirit that did all things, from the building of a palace to the rocking of a cradle, and filled the air with an invisible presence. As protector it is of immeasurable power,—like a fifteen-inch Columbiad pointed from a Monitor. Ay, Sir, the ballot is the Columbiad of our political life, and every citizen who has it is a full-armed Monitor.
Having pleaded for the freedman, I now plead for the Republic; for to each alike the ballot is a necessity. It is idle to expect any true peace while the freedman is robbed of this transcendent right, and left a prey to a vengeance too ready to wreak upon him the disappointment of defeat. The country, sympathetic with him, will be in perpetual unrest. With him it will suffer; with him alone can it cease to suffer. Only through him can you redress the balance of our political system and assure the safety of patriot citizens. Only through him can you save the national debt from the inevitable repudiation awaiting it, when recent Rebels in conjunction with Northern allies once more bear sway. He is our best guaranty. Use him. He was once your fellow-soldier; he has always been your fellow-man. If he was willing to die for the Republic, he is surely good enough to vote. And now that he is ready to uphold the Republic, it is madness to reject him. Had he voted originally, the Acts of Secession must have failed, treason would have been voted down. You owe this tragical war, and the debt now fastened upon the country, to the denial of this right. Vacant chairs in once happy homes, innumerable graves, saddened hearts, mothers, fathers, wives, sisters, brothers, all mourning lost ones, the poor ground by taxation never known before, all testify against the injustice by which the present freedman was not allowed to vote. Had he voted, there would have been peace. If he votes now, there will be peace. Without this you must have a standing army, which is a sorry substitute for justice. Before you is the plain alternative of the ballot-box or the cartridge-box: choose ye between them.
Reason, too, in every way and with every voice, cries out in unison with necessity. All policies, all expediencies, all economies take up the cry. Nothing so impolitic as wrong; nothing so inexpedient as tyranny; nothing so little economical as the spirit of caste. Justice is the highest policy, the truest expediency, and the most comprehensive economy. In this inspiration act. Do you wish to save the national credit, still imperilled by fatal injustice, and to secure gold as the national currency? Then do not let the question of Equal Rights disturb the country with volcanic throes. You complain that labor is unorganized, and that the cotton crop fails. Do you wish labor to smile and cotton to grow? Then sow the land with Human Rights, and encircle it round about with Justice. The freedman will not, cannot work, while you deny his rights. Cotton will not, cannot grow in such an atmosphere. Absurd to expect it. Using the freedman as you now do, you imitate those barbarous Irish who insisted upon ploughing by the horse’s tail, until an Act of Parliament interfered to require ploughing by harness. The infinite folly must be corrected, if for no higher reason than because it is unprofitable. But it is contrary to Nature, and on this account renders the whole social system insecure. Where Human Rights are set at nought, there can be no tranquillity except that of force, which is despotism. The philosophy of history, speaking by one of its oracles, the great Italian Vico, confirms this lesson, when it says, most sententiously, that “nothing out of its natural state can either easily subsist or last long.” Truer words were never uttered, as statement of philosophy, or warning to injustice enacted into law.