the impossible, but seeking to do the best thing practicable
under existing circumstances. He knew that prohibition
in the territories would result in no more slave states
and no slave territory. And now, when the repeal
of the Missouri Compromise shattered all parties into
fragments, he came forward to build up the Free Soil
party and threw into the conflict all his strength
and vigor. The conviction of his duty was deep
and sincere. Hence he pleaded the cause of liberty
with an energy, ability, and power which rapidly gained
for him a national reputation. Conscious of the
greatness of his cause, inspired by a genuine love
of liberty, animated and made strong by the moral
sublimity of the conflict, he solemnly announced his
determination to speak for freedom and against slavery
until—in his own words—wherever
the Federal Government has power, ’the sun shall
shine, the rain shall fall, and the wind shall blow
upon no man who goes forth to unrequited toil.’”
The absorbing political topic in 1855 was the contest in Kansas, which proved the battle-ground for the struggle over the introduction of slavery into the territories north of the line established by the “Missouri Compromise.” Lincoln’s views on the subject are defined in a notable letter to his friend Joshua Speed, a resident of Kentucky. The following passages show, in Lincoln’s own words, where he stood on the slavery question at this memorable epoch:
SPRINGFIELD, AUGUST 24, 1855.
Dear Speed:—You know what a poor correspondent I am. Ever since I received your very agreeable letter of the twenty-second of May, I have been intending to write you in answer to it. You suggest that in political action now, you and I would differ. You know I dislike slavery, and you fully admit the abstract wrong of it. So far, there is no cause of difference. But you say that sooner than yield your legal right to the slave, especially at the bidding of those who are not themselves interested, you would see the Union dissolved. I am not aware that any one is bidding you yield that right—very certainly I am not. I leave the matter entirely to yourself. I also acknowledge your rights and my obligations under the Constitution, in regard to your slaves. I confess I hate to see the poor creatures hunted down, and caught, and carried back to their stripes and unrequited toil; but I bite my lip and keep quiet. In 1841 you and I had together a tedious low-water trip on a steamboat from Louisville to St. Louis. You may remember, as I well do, that from Louisville to the mouth of the Ohio, there were on board ten or a dozen slaves, shackled together with irons. That sight was a continual torment to me; and I see something like it every time I touch the Ohio, or any other slave border. It is not fair for you to assume that I have no interest in a thing which has, and continually exercises, the power of making me miserable. You ought rather to appreciate how much the great body of the people