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of imagination stands baffled. When I see such a man, I feel myself overcome by a feeling of profound pity; pity for a soul that has closed itself against those great and generous emotions which would unite it in joy and grief with so many thousand kindred souls, pity for the sullen miseries of a barren heart. But to reason with them would be in vain, for we cannot follow them into the sombre and tangled mazes of their motives. We must leave them to the infamy they have chosen for themselves. (Loud applause.)
But to you, whose hearts are still open to the entreaties of your hopefully struggling country, but whose eyes are clouded by party spirit, or by the false pride of preconceived opinions, or by little resentments, to you I address this last appeal. There is the great destiny of your Republic; the warmest enthusiasm of your hearts for it cannot be too fiery, your deepest prayers for it cannot be to pressing. You see it before you. The means by which it can be achieved I have pointed out to you; no, not that, I have only reminded you of them, for your own common-sense, your own experience, the unanimous opinion of this century, your own consciences, point them out. These means are powerful, but plain, direct, and simple; and in their grand directness and simplicity worthy of the tremendous object to be achieved. And now you come with your puny trick and shifts of compromise? Now you can find any comfort for your souls in the pusillanimous, dangerous, pernicious expedient of the weak and shaky, to do things by halves? Now you can parade petty grievances before the world and raise the silly cry of despotism, a cry so silly, that those who raise it cannot meet each other in the street without smiling? Now, in the face of this tremendous stake, you resort to your little cunning contrivances to confuse the minds of the people, merely to gain an advantage for a party? Now you cannot set your heel upon the contemptible ranklings of personal disappointment or the groveling animosity of minor differences of opinion? Now insist upon being small when the country expects every one of her sons to rise to the height of her own destiny? Now, when the fate of the Republic stands upon the brink of the most fearful decision, a decision which will be irrevocable for ever? Party! Have you not learned yet that in times of a great crisis there can be only a for or against, and that all which is half this and half that must be ground to dust as between two millstones? (Loud applause.) Have you not learned that lesson in the contest of 1860? Then you will learn it now, when your organization is crumbling to pieces like a rotten stick, dangerous for him who leans upon it; crumbling to pieces in spite of artful duplicity, in spite of trade and bargain. This is not a mere accident; it is the inexorable logic of things. (Applause.) And out of this disgraceful shipwreck you can hesitate to save the proud privilege of being useful to your country? Not I alone entreat you thus. Hear the voice of him, who leads your sons and brothers on the field of battle: “The end is near; only let the North be true to herself! Unity of sentiment and unity of action, and victory is sure!” And not he alone. Every sigh and moan of the wounded soldier, every drop of blood that stains our battle-fields, every tear that moistens the pale cheeks of our widows and orphans, cries out to you: “Take care that this be not in vain. Unite for the struggle!” (Applause.)
But, believe me, it is not from fear of failure that I appeal to you. I appeal to you that your names may not go down to your children on the suspicious list of the doubtful. I wish that the country might be proud of all her sons.
Indeed, whatever you may do, we fear you not; for, although only glorious New-England has spoken, (great cheering,) I solemnly declare my belief, the people have already decided in their hearts. This nation will not be false to her great destiny. You try in vain to stop her march by throwing yourselves under her feet. Come with her if you will, or she will march over you if she must. (Long-continued and tremendous applause.) In every pulsation of the popular heart, in every breeze, there is victory; and in the midst of the din and confusion of the conflict there stands the National Will, undisturbed, in monumental repose, and gives his quiet command: For the Great Empire of Liberty, Forward! (Long-continued cheers and applause, and waving of hats.)
Printed by John A. Gray & Green New-York.
