St. Paul says, “if it offends my brother, I will eat no meat;” and if it offends my brother here, I will not open my mouth. Nobody can suspect me. [Voices: “certainly not.”] Then I say, can’t you combine the vote of this state, and beat Buchanan? [This question was responded to in the affirmative, with the greatest enthusiasm.] Repeated cheers were proposed for the straight ticket, but the responding voices were by no means numerous, and were mingled with hisses. Such was the universal excitement, that for some minutes the speaker was obliged to pause. He finally raised his voice above the subsiding storm, and said:—
Come, my friends, we are all brothers; we are all seeking the same end. Our object is the same. We are all struggling to reach the same haven of safety. The only difference of opinion is as to the proper means by which to accomplish our common end. Will not Americans learn prudence from the past? Misfortune should have taught us charity for each other. We have passed through the ordeal of persecution together; we have been subjected to the same difficulties, and the same oppression; we have been baptized (I may say) in the same stream of calumny. Then, in the name of God—in the name of our common country—in the name of Americanism—in the name of American nationality—in the name of religious freedom—in the name of the Union, I beseech you to learn charity for the difference of opinion which prevails among you. Let brethren forbear with brethren. Let us recollect that it is not by vituperation, by the censure of our brethren, that we can ever accomplish this great end of conquering a common enemy. My friends, how long are we to suffer? How long will it be before we shall learn that it is only by a union of counsels, a concentration of energy, a combination of purpose, that we can destroy the common enemy of every conservative man. [Great applause.]
I shall not attempt to advise you, for I am not competent to do it. You have information which I do not possess. You know all the undercurrents of opinion which prevail here in your community, with which I am unacquainted; but will you allow an humble man to express his opinion to brethren whom he loves? May I do it? I am a Fillmore man—nothing but a Fillmore man, and if I resided here, I would vote no ticket which had not the name of Millard Fillmore at its head, and I would advise no Fillmore man to vote a ticket with Fremont’s name on it; but I would vote for that ticket which would make my voice tell at the polls.
Now let us look at this thing practically. In reading history I have always admired the character of Oliver Cromwell. What was the great motive by which he was actuated in overthrowing the house of Stuart? It was unfailing devotion to principle. His motto was, “Put your trust in God, and keep your powder dry.” I admire the devotion to principle in every man who says that he does not intend to vote any but the straight ticket, for it shows that Americanism has such a lodgment in his heart, that he cannot bear even seemingly to compromise it. That is “putting your trust in God;” but, my friends, is it “keeping your powder dry?” The enemy may steal into the camp while you are asleep, and may pour water upon your cartridges, so that when the day of battle shall come, you may shoot, but you will kill nobody. I want the vote of every American, on Tuesday next, to tell. Would to God that you could give the twenty-seven electoral votes of Pennsylvania to Fillmore. Then vote the straight ticket, if that will give him the twenty-seven votes. But suppose it will not (and I am afraid it will not), then the question is, had you better give Buchanan the twenty-seven votes, or give Fillmore eight, ten, twelve, or twenty, as the case may be. I go for beating Buchanan.
Gentlemen, you do not know what we Americans suffer at the South. I am abused and reviled for standing up in defence of you. When I hear the whole North denounced as a set of Abolitionists, whose purpose it is to interfere with the peculiar institutions of the South, I brand such charges as slanders on the Northern people. I tell them that the great mass of the Northern people are sound on this question; that they are opposed to slavery, as I should be if I were a Northern man; but that I do not believe that the great mass of the Northern people have any idea of interfering with the constitutional rights of the people of the South. I know that such men as Garrison and Forney have. I know that Garrison believes the Constitution to be a “league with hell,” and would therefore destroy it if he could; and I know that Forney loves office so well, that even at the risk of snapping the Union, he will keep alive slavery agitation. But Garrison does not represent New England, and Forney does not represent you.
As much as I have been reviled for standing by you, I am so anxious to have Buchanan beaten, that were I residing here, if I could not give Fillmore the whole twenty-seven votes, I would give him all I could, by giving him the number to which he might be entitled by the numerical proportion of the votes at the ballot-box. Yet, if there is a brother American here who feels in his “heart of hearts,” that by voting that Union ticket, he would compromise his Americanism, I say to such an one, “do not vote that ticket.” At the same time, candor compels me to say, that I differ in opinion with him. If I believed that that ticket was a fusion, or that it called upon any Fillmore man to vote for Fremont, I would advise no one to vote it. I would not vote a ticket that had on it the name of Fremont; but I would vote a ticket with Fillmore’s name upon it, and which would give him (if not the twenty-seven electoral votes) seven, or ten, or twenty, just as the numerical proportion of the votes might decide.
I appeal to every conservative, Union-loving man in this nation, who is disposed to give to the South all the constitutional privileges to which she is entitled, and who wishes to rebuke the Democratic party for the repeal of the Missouri compromise, and for keeping up the eternal agitation of slavery. I appeal to you as a southern man—as a slaveholder. I do not ask you to be pro-slavery men, to be the advocates of slavery, when I say to you that we, your brethren of the South, expect you to preserve our constitutional rights—and, God knows, we ask nothing more—against fanatics, either north or south. Will you do it?
My friends, the election is fast approaching. There is but little time for deliberation left. Is there no way by which the votes of the anti-Buchanan party can be concentrated on the same ticket? I would shed tears of blood—God knows I would—if I could be instrumental in prevailing on all true Americans to combine. I cannot tell you how to combine; but is it yet too late? If it is too late to do it throughout the state, cannot you in Philadelphia do it? The Presidential election may depend upon the state of Pennsylvania, and the state of Pennsylvania may depend upon the city of Philadelphia. On the vote of the city of Philadelphia may depend not only our own rights, but the rights of our children and our children’s children. I appeal to my brother Americans, for I have no right to appeal to anybody else; I cannot address the Fremont party, for I have no affiliation with them; I cannot address the Buchanan party, for my object is to destroy them if possible. To my American brethren, then, I appeal, for God’s sake, do not let the sun rise upon that wrath, which I see divides you. Your object is the same—to rescue your common country.
Let me advise you who know nothing of your divisions—who belong neither to one clique or the other. I say with the deepest sincerity that I think all parties ought to have concentrated upon the Fillmore ticket. Mr. Fillmore is a northern man. Your southern brethren were willing to support him. He had guided the ship of state safely through the storm, and it was but reasonable to suppose that in time of difficulty he would again be found the same good pilot. But if we cannot get all others to unite on Mr. Fillmore, each of us must inquire, “What is my duty? If the mountain will not come to Mahomet, shall not Mahomet go to the mountain; and if he will not go to the mountain, in heaven’s name, shall he not go half way?”
I am fighting for the victory which we may obtain in this contest. And what an issue is now pending! We read in the Iliad how, for ten long years, a great people of antiquity were engaged in the siege of Troy. What was the stake for which they contended? It was nothing more than a beautiful woman, who had been ravished by a sprig of the royal line of Troy. What is the stake for which we contend? It is constitutional liberty—the right of the American people to govern their own country—the right of every citizen to worship God according to the dictates of his conscience. The great issue is, whether the American flag shall still wave in glory when we shall have gone to our graves, or whether it shall be trailed in dishonor—whether the “blackness of darkness” which would follow the dissolution of this Union, shall cover the land.