Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

We want every American to make to-day, on this hundredth anniversary, a declaration of individual independence. Let each man enjoy his liberty to the utmost--enjoy all he can; but be sure it is not at the expense of another. The French Convention gave the best definition of liberty I have ever read: "The liberty of one citizen ceases only where the liberty of another citizen commences." I know of no better definition. I ask you to-day to make a declaration of individual independence. And if you are independent be just. Allow everybody else to make his declaration of individual independence. Allow your wife, allow your husband, allow your children to make theirs. Let everybody be absolutely free and independent, knowing only the sacred obligations of honesty and affection. Let us be independent of party, independent of everybody and everything except our own consciences and our own brains. Do not belong to any clique. Have the clear title-deeds in fee simple to yourselves, without any mortgage on the premises to anybody in the world.

It is a grand thing to be the owner of yourself. It is a grand thing to protect the rights of others. It is a sublime thing to be free and just.

Only a few days ago I stood in Independence Hall--in that little room where was signed the immortal paper. A little room, like any other; and it did not seem possible that from that room went forth ideas, like cherubim and seraphim, spreading their wings over a continent, and touching, as with holy fire, the hearts of men.

In a few moments I was in the park, where are gathered the accomplishments of a century. Our fathers never dreamed of the things I saw. There were hundreds of locomotives, with their nerves of steel and breath of flame--every kind of machine, with whirling wheels and curious cogs and cranks, and the myriad thoughts of men that have been wrought in iron, brass and steel. And going out from one little building were wires in the air, stretching to every civilized nation, and they could send a shining messenger in a moment to any part of the world, and it would go sweeping under the waves of the sea with thoughts and words within its glowing heart. I saw all that had been achieved by this nation, and I wished that the signers of the Declaration--the soldiers of the Revolution--could see what a century of freedom has produced. I wished they could see the fields we cultivate--the rivers we navigate--the railroads running over the Alleghanies, far into what was then the unknown forest--on over the broad prairies--on over the vast plains--away over the mountains of the West, to the Golden Gate of the Pacific. All this is the result of a hundred years of freedom.

Are you not more than glad that in 1776 was announced the sublime principle that political power resides with the people? That our fathers then made up their minds nevermore to be colonists and subjects, but that they would be free and independent citizens of America?

I will not name any of the grand men who fought for liberty. All should be named, or none. I feel that the unknown soldier who was shot down without even his name being remembered--who was included only in a report of "a hundred killed," or "a hundred missing," nobody knowing even the number that attached to his august corpse--is entitled to as deep and heartfelt thanks as the titled leader who fell at the head of the host.

Standing here amid the sacred memories of the first, on the golden threshold of the second, I ask, Will the second century be as grand as the first? I believe it will, because we are growing more and more humane. I believe there is more human kindness, more real, sweet human sympathy, a greater desire to help one another, in the United States, than in all the world besides.

We must progress. We are just at the commencement of invention. The steam engine--the telegraph--these are but the toys with which science has been amused. Wait; there will be grander things, there will be wider and higher culture--a grander standard of character, of literature and art.

We have now half as many millions of people as we have years, and many of us will live until a hundred millions stand beneath the flag. We are getting more real solid sense. The schoolhouse is the finest building in the village. We are writing and reading more books; we are painting and buying more pictures; we are struggling more and more to get at the philosophy of life, of things--trying more and more to answer the questions of the eternal Sphinx. We are looking in every direction--investigating; in short, we are thinking and working. Besides all this, I believe the people are nearer honest than ever before. A few years ago we were willing to live upon the labor of four million slaves. Was that honest? At last, we have a national conscience. At last, we have carried out the Declaration of Independence. Our fathers wrote it--we have accomplished it. The black man was a slave--we made him a citizen. We found four million human beings in manacles, and now the hands of a race are held up in the free air without a chain.

I have had the supreme pleasure of seeing a man--once a slave--sitting in the seat of his former master in the Congress of the United States. I have had that pleasure, and when I saw it my eyes were filled with tears. I felt that we had carried, out the Declaration of Independence--that we had given reality to it, and breathed the breath of life into its every word. I felt that our flag would float over and protect the colored man and his little children, standing straight in the sun, just the same as though he were white and worth a million. I would protect him more, because the rich white man could protect himself.

All who stand beneath our banner are free. Ours is the only flag that has in reality written upon it: Liberty, Fraternity, Equality--the three grandest words in all the languages of men.

Liberty: Give to every man the fruit of his own labor--the labor of his hands and of his brain.

Fraternity: Every man in the right is my brother.

Equality: The rights of all are equal: Justice, poised and balanced in eternal calm, will shake from the golden scales in which are weighed the acts of men, the very dust of prejudice and caste: No race, no color, no previous condition, can change the rights of men.

The Declaration of Independence has at last been carried out in letter and in spirit.

The second century will be grander than the first.

Fifty millions of people are celebrating this day. To-day, the black man looks upon his child and says: The avenues to distinction are open to you--upon your brow may fall the civic wreath--this day belongs to you.

We are celebrating the courage and wisdom of our fathers, and the glad shout of a free people the anthem of a grand nation, commencing at the Atlantic, is following the sun to the Pacific, across a continent of happy homes.

We are a great people. Three millions have increased to fifty--thirteen States to thirty-eight. We have better homes, better clothes, better food and more of it, and more of the conveniences of life, than any other people upon the globe.

The farmers of our country live better than did the kings and princes two hundred years ago--and they have twice as much sense and heart. Liberty and labor have given us all. I want every person here to believe in the dignity of labor--to know that the respectable man is the useful man--the man who produces or helps others to produce something of value, whether thought of the brain or work of the hand.

I want you to go away with an eternal hatred in your breast of injustice, of aristocracy, of caste, of the idea that one man has more rights than another because he has better clothes, more land, more money, because he owns a railroad, or is famous and in high position. Remember that all men have equal rights. Remember that the man who acts best his part--who loves his friends the best--is most willing to help others--truest to the discharge of obligation--who has the best heart--the most feeling--the deepest sympathies--and who freely gives to others the rights that he claims for himself is the best man. I am willing to swear to this.

What has made this country? I say again, liberty and labor. What would we be without labor? I want every farmer when plowing the rustling corn of June--while mowing in the perfumed fields--to feel that he is adding to the wealth and glory of the United States. I want every mechanic--every man of toil, to know and feel that he is keeping the cars running, the telegraph wires in the air; that he is making the statues and painting the pictures; that he is writing and printing the books; that he is helping to fill the world with honor, with happiness, with love and law.

Our country is founded upon the dignity of labor--upon the equality of man. Ours is the first real Republic in the history of the world. Beneath our flag the people are free. We have retired the gods from politics. We have found that man is the only source of political power, and that the governed should govern. We have disfranchised the aristocrats of the air and have given one country to mankind.

BANGOR SPEECH.

* Yesterday was a glorious day for the Republicans of
Bangor. The weather was delightful and all the imposing
exercises of the day were conducted with a gratifying and
even inspiring success.

The noon train from Waterville brought Gov. Connor, Col.
Ingersoll and Senator Blaine.

At 3 p. m. the speakers arrived at the grounds and were
received with applause as they ascended the platform, where
a number of the most prominent citizens of Bangor and
vicinity were assembled. At this time the platform was
surrounded by a dense mass of people, numbering thousands.
The meeting was called to order by C. A. Boutelle, in behalf
of the Republican State Committee. As Col. Ingersoll was
introduced by Gov. Connor he was welcomed by tumultuous
cheers, which he gracefully acknowledged.

As we said before, no report could do justice to such a
masterly effort as that of the great Western Orator, and we
have not attempted to convey any adequate impression of an
address which is conceded on all hands to be the most
remarkable for originality, power and eloquence ever heard
in this section.

Such a speech by such a man--if there is another--must be
heard; the magnetism of the speaker must be felt; the
indescribable influence must be experienced, in order to
appreciate his wonderful power. The vast audience was
alternately swayed from enthusiasm for the grand principles
advocated, to indignation at the crimes of Democracy, as the
record of that party was scorched with his invective; from
laughter at the ludicrous presentment of Democratic
inconsistencies, to tears brought forth by the pathos and
eloquence of his appeals for justice and humanity. During
portions of his address there was moisture in the eyes of
every person in the audience, and from opening to close he
held the assemblage by a spell more potent than that of any
man we have ever heard speak. It was one of the grandest,
most cogent and thrilling appeals in behalf of the great
principles of liberty, loyalty and justice to all men, ever
delivered, and we wish it might have been heard by every
citizen of our beloved Republic. The Colonel was repeatedly
urged by the audience to go on, and he spoke for about two
hours with undiminished fervor. His hearers would gladly
have given him audience for two hours longer, but with a
splendid tribute to Mr. Blaine as the strongest tie between
New England and the West, he took his seat amid the ringing
cheers and plaudits of the assemblage.--The Whig and
Courier, Bangor, Maine, August 25,1876.

HAYES CAMPAIGN

1876.