e remembered without rebellious anger.
This last point was what chiefly moved him. He intensely desired to have
emancipation effected in such a way that good feeling between the two
sections might be a not distant condition; the humanity of his
temperament, his passion for reasonable dealing, his appreciation of the
mischief of sectional enmity in a republic, all conspired to establish
him unchangeably in favor of "compensated emancipation."

For the accomplishment of his purpose he now suggested three articles of
amendment to the Constitution. He spoke earnestly; for "in times like
the present," he said, "men should utter nothing for which they would
not willingly be responsible through time and eternity." Beneath the
solemnity of this obligation he made for his plan a very elaborate
argument. Among the closing sentences were the following:--

"The plan would, I am confident, secure peace more speedily, and
maintain it more permanently, than can be done by force alone; while
all it would cost, considering amounts, and manner of payment, and times
of payment, would be easier paid than will be the additional cost of the
war, if we rely solely upon force. It is much, very much, that it would
cost no blood at all.

... "Is it doubted, then, that the plan I propose, if adopted, would
shorten the war, and thus lessen its expenditure of money and of blood?
Is it doubted that it would restore the national authority and national
prosperity, and perpetuate both indefinitely? Is it doubted that we
here--Congress and Executive--can secure its adoption? Will not the good
people respond to a united and earnest appeal from us? Can we, can they,
by any other means so certainly or so speedily assure these vital
objects? We can succeed only by concert. It is not 'Can _any_ of us
_imagine_ better?' but; 'Can we _all do_ better?' Object whatsoever is
possible, still the question recurs, 'Can we do better?' The dogmas of
the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is
piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our
case is new, so we must think anew and act anew. We must disenthrall
ourselves, and then we shall save our country.

"Fellow citizens, _we_ cannot escape history. We, of this Congress and
this administration, will [shall] be remembered in spite of ourselves.
No personal significance, or insignificance, can spare one or another
of us. The fiery trial through which we pass will light