[From a Speech, at the unveiling of a Soldiers' Monument Painesville, Ohio, July 4, 1880.]
I once entered a house in old Massachusetts, where over its doors were two crossed swords. One was the sword carried by the grandfather of its owner on the field of Bunker Hill, and the other was the sword carried by the English grand-sire of the wife on the same field, and on the other side of the conflict. Under those crossed swords, in the restored harmony of domestic peace, lived a happy and contented and free family, under the light of our republican liberties. I trust the time is not far distant when, under the crossed swords and the locked shields of Americans, north and south, our people shall sleep in peace and rise in liberty, love, and harmony, under the union of our flag of the stars and stripes.
[Speech to a Delegation of four hundred Young Men—First Voters—of Cleveland, Ohio, at Mentor, October 8, 1880.]
... I have not so far left the coast of youth to travel inland but that I can very well remember the state of young manhood, from an experience in it of some years, and there is nothing to me in this world so inspiring as the possibilities that lie locked up in the head and breast of a young man. The hopes that lie before him the great inspirations around him, the great aspirations above him, all these things, with the untried pathway of life opening up its difficulties and dangers, inspire him to courage, and force, and work.
[From a Speech in New York, August 6, 1880.]
... Ideas outlive men. Ideas outlive all things, and you who fought in the war for the Union fought for immortal ideas, and by their might you crowned our war with victory. But victory was worth nothing except for the fruits that were under it, in it, and above it. We meet to-night as veterans and comrades, to stand sacred guard around the truths for which we fought, and while we have life to meet and grasp the hands of a comrade, we will stand by the great truths of the war; and, comrades, among the convictions of that war which have sunk deep in our hearts there are some that we can never forget. Think of the great elevating spirit of the war itself. We gathered the boys from all our farms, and shops, and stores, and schools, and homes, from all over the Republic, and they went forth unknown to fame, but returned enrolled on the roster of immortal heroes. They went in the spirit of those soldiers of Henry at Agincourt, of whom he said, "Who this day sheds his blood with me, to-day shall be my brother. Were he ne'er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition;" and it did gentle the condition and elevate the heart of every working soldier who fought in it, and he shall be our brother for evermore; and this thing we will remember; we will remember our allies who fought with us. Soon after the great struggle began we looked behind the army of white rebels and saw 4,000,000 of black people condemned to toil as slaves for our enemies, and we found that the hearts of this 4,000,000 were God-inspired with the spirit of freedom, and that they were our friends. We have seen white men betray the flag and fight to kill the Union, but in all that long, dreary war we never saw a traitor in a black skin. Our prisoners, escaping from the starvation of prison, and fleeing to our lines by the light of the North-star, never feared to enter the black man's cabin and ask for bread. In all that period of suffering and danger no Union soldier was ever betrayed by a black man or woman, and now that we have made them free, so long as we live we will stand by these black citizens. We will stand by them until the sun of liberty, fixed in the firmament of our Constitution, shall shine with equal rays upon every man, black or white, throughout the Union. Now, fellow-citizens, fellow-soldiers, in this there is all the beneficence of eternal justice, and by this we will stand forever.
[Remarks at Chatauqua August 1, 1880]
I would rather be defeated than make capital out of my religion.
[From an Address at the Anniversary of Hiram College, directly after the Chicago Convention, 1880.]
Fellow-citizens, Neighbors, and Friends of many years: It always has given me pleasure to come back here and look upon these faces. It has always given me new courage and new friends. It has brought back a large share of that richness that belongs to those things out of which come the joys of life. While I have been sitting here this afternoon, watching your faces and listening to the very interesting address which has just been delivered, it occurred to me that the best thing you have that all men envy—I mean all men who have reached the meridian of life—is, perhaps, the thing that you care for less, and that is your leisure,—the leisure you have to think, the leisure you have to be let alone, the leisure you have to throw the plummet with your hand, and sound their depths and find out what is below, the leisure you have to walk about the towers of yourselves, and find how strong they are, or how weak they are, and determine what needs building up, and determine how to shape them, that you may make the final being that you are to be. Oh, these hours of building! If the superior beings of the universe would look down upon the world to find the most interesting object, it would be the unfinished, unformed character of young men, or of young women. These behind me have, probably, in the main settled such questions. Those who have passed into middle manhood and middle womanhood are about what they shall always be, and there is little left of interest or curiosity as to our development. But to your young and yet uninformed natures no man knows the possibilities that lie treasured up in your hearts and intellects; and while you are working up these possibilities with that splendid leisure, you are the most envied of all classes of men and women in the world. I congratulate you on your leisure. I commend you to keep it as your gold, as your wealth, as your means, out of which you can demand all the possible treasures that God laid down when He formed your nature, and unveiled and developed the possibility of your future. This place is too full of memories for me to trust myself to speak upon, and I will not; but I draw again to-day, as I have for a quarter of a century, evidences of strength and affection from the people who gather in this place, and I thank you for the permission to see you, and meet you, and greet you, as I have done to-day.