of fugitive slaves.  Full well I know, Sir, the difficulties of this discussion, arising from prejudices of opinion and from adverse conclusions strong and sincere as my own.  Full well I know that I am in a small minority, with few here to whom I can look for sympathy or support.  Full well I know that I must utter things unwelcome to many in this body, which I cannot do without pain.  Full well I know that the institution of Slavery in our country, which I now proceed to consider, is as sensitive as it is powerful, possessing a power to shake the whole land, with a sensitiveness that shrinks and trembles at the touch.  But while these things may properly prompt me to caution and reserve, they cannot change my duty, or my determination to perform it.  For this I willingly forget myself and all personal consequences.  The favor and good-will of my fellow-citizens, of my brethren of the Senate, Sir, grateful to me as they justly are, I am ready, if required, to sacrifice.  Whatever I am or may be I freely offer to this cause.

Here allow, for one moment, a reference to myself and my position.  Sir, I have never been a politician.  The slave of principles, I call no party master.  By sentiment, education, and conviction a friend of Human Rights in their utmost expansion, I have ever most sincerely embraced the Democratic Idea,—­not, indeed, as represented or professed by any party, but according to its real significance, as transfigured in the Declaration of Independence and in the injunctions of Christianity.  In this idea I see no narrow advantage merely for individuals or classes, but the sovereignty of the people, and the greatest happiness of all secured by equal laws.  Amidst the vicissitudes of public affairs I shall hold fast always to this idea, and to any political party which truly embraces it.

Party does not constrain me; nor is my independence lessened by any relations to the office which gives me a title to be heard on this floor.  Here, Sir, I speak proudly.  By no effort, by no desire of my own, I find myself a Senator of the United States.  Never before have I held public office of any kind.  With the ample opportunities of private life I was content.  No tombstone for me could bear a fairer inscription than this:  “Here lies one who, without the honors or emoluments of public station, did something for his fellowmen.”  From such simple aspirations I was taken away by the free choice of my native Commonwealth, and placed at this responsible post of duty, without personal obligation of any kind, beyond what was implied in my life and published words.  The earnest friends by whose confidence I was first designated asked nothing from me, and throughout the long conflict which ended in my election rejoiced in the position which I most carefully guarded.  To all my language was uniform:  that I did not desire to be brought forward; that I would do nothing to promote the result; that I had no pledges or promises to offer; that the office should seek me, and not I the office; and that it should find me in all respects an independent man, bound to no party and to no human being, but only, according to my best judgment, to act for the good of all.  Again, Sir, I speak with pride, both for myself and others, when I add that these avowals found a sympathizing response.  In this spirit I have come here, and in this spirit I shall speak to-day.