And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking;
Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog,
In public duty and in private thinking!
For while the tricksters, with their thumb-worn creeds,
Their large professions, and their little deeds,
Mingle in selfish strife, lo! Freedom weeps!
Wrong rules the land, and waiting Justice sleeps!
In the midst of mingled doubts and fears, when weak and timid politicians masquerading under the name of statesmen hesitated to grapple with the monstrous evil that threatened to advance upon and overwhelm the last remaining bulwarks of freedom, when the right and true path was well nigh lost sight of, and lovers of liberty were ranged under different banners, waiting for a Moses who should lead them out of Egyptian bondage, the Great Captain came. He came, and thenceforth all seemed clear. Simple in speech, plain in manner, straightforward in action, tender as a child, bold as a lion, fearless as a hero, at once courageous and humble, lofty and lowly, he came to speak and to act. Born of Southern parents who had witnessed the depressing and blighting effects of slavery, and reared in the broad prairies of the West, whose very winds sang Liberty, he realized the curse of bondage and the blessing of freedom. From the unfelled forest, from the log cabin and the country store, from humble forum and obscure dwelling, from out the ranks of the people, the Leader came. He came, and statesmen bowed before him; he spoke, and a nation hearkened to his counsel. Devoted to truth and the right, opposed to falsehood and the wrong, scorning the tricks and subterfuges of the self-seeking, and abhorring with his whole heart and soul the mean and base, loving his country with a devotion that made him forgetful of all else save the preservation of the Union, the incomparable Leader rose. In judicial tribunal and halls of state, in capital and village, in mansion and log cabin, in crowded cities, and out on the boundless prairies of the West, men listened to his words, and saw, as they had never seen before, the darkness, the light, the path,—the wrong, the right, and the remedy. “You must be either all slave or all free.” These were his prophetic words. Who was this man that came unheralded out of the West? Who was this man that rose above the great statesmen of his day—who was as earnest as Phillips, as gifted as Baker, who was more profound than Seward, more learned than Chase, more logical than Douglas, more eloquent than Everett? Who was he that combined in one soul the simplicity of a child, the wisdom of a sage, and the foresight of a prophet? Need I utter his sacred name? Wheresoever among men there is a love for disinterested patriotism and sublime attachment to duty, wheresoever liberty is worshiped and loyalty exalted, his name and deeds are known. His image is in all hearts, his name to-day is on all lips. That grand and lofty man was the rail-splitter of Illinois,—beloved, sainted, immortal Abraham Lincoln, statesman, philosopher, and patriot, the greatest, noblest, purest soul that ever was enwrapped in clay, to walk the earth,—Abraham Lincoln, the emancipator of a race; the savior of the Union!
Strangely enough, the election of the Presidency of this great and good and just man was the signal for revolt. “In your hands,” said he in his first inaugural address,—“In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow-countrymen, and not in mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in heaven to destroy the Government, while I shall have the most solemn one to ‘preserve, protect, and defend’ it.”
But the blow was struck,—the blow that was ultimately to destroy slavery, and make our country free indeed,—“a land without a serf, a servant, or a slave.”