calls it the "enormity"--which they cherish.
Of them I do not speak; but without fear and without favor, as without
impeachment of any person, I assail this wrong. Again, Sir, I may err;
but it will be with the Fathers. I plant myself on the ancient ways of
the Republic, with its grandest names, its surest landmarks, and all its
original altar-fires about me.

And now, on the very threshold, I encounter the objection, that there
is a final settlement, in principle and substance, of the question of
slavery, and that all discussion of it is closed. Both the old political
parties, by formal resolutions, in recent conventions at Baltimore, have
united in this declaration. On a subject which for years has agitated
the public mind, which yet palpitates in every heart and burns on every
tongue, which in its immeasurable importance dwarfs all other subjects,
which by its constant and gigantic presence throws a shadow across
these halls, which at this very time calls for appropriations to meet
extraordinary expenses it has caused, they impose the rule of silence.
According to them, Sir, we may speak of everything except that alone
which is most present in all our minds.

To this combined effort I might fitly reply, that, with flagrant
inconsistency, it challenges the very discussion it pretends to forbid.
Their very declaration, on the eve of an election, is, of course,
submitted to the consideration and ratification of the people. Debate,
inquiry, discussion, are the necessary consequence. Silence becomes
impossible. Slavery, which you profess to banish from public attention,
openly by your invitation enters every political meeting and every
political convention. Nay, at this moment it stalks into this Senate,
crying, like the daughters of the horseleech, "Give! give."

But no unanimity of politicians can uphold the baseless assumption, that
a law, or any conglomerate of laws, under the name of compromise, or
howsoever called, is final. Nothing can be plainer than this,--that by
no parliamentary device or knot can any legislature tie the hands of
a succeeding legislature, so as to prevent the full exercise of its
constitutional powers. Each legislature, under a just sense of its
responsibility, must judge for itself; and if it think proper, it may
revise, or amend, or absolutely undo the work of any predecessor.
The laws of the Medes and Persians are said proverbially to have been
unalterable; but they stand forth in history