If this Union shall become separated, new unions, new confederacies will arise.  And with respect to this, if there be any—­I hope there is no one in the Senate—­before whose imagination is flitting the idea of a great Southern Confederacy to take possession of the Balize and the mouth of the Mississippi, I say in my place never! never!  NEVER! will we who occupy the broad waters of the Mississippi and its upper tributaries consent that any foreign flag shall float at the Balize or upon the turrets of the Crescent City—­NEVER!  NEVER!  I call upon all the South.  Sir, we have had hard words, bitter words, bitter thoughts, unpleasant feelings toward each other in the progress of this great measure.  Let us forget them.  Let us sacrifice these feelings.  Let us go to the altar of our country and swear, as the oath was taken of old, that we will stand by her; that we will support her; that we will uphold her Constitution; that we will preserve her Union; and that we will pass this great, comprehensive, and healing system of measures, which will hush all the jarring elements, and bring peace and tranquillity to our homes.

Let me, Mr. President, in conclusion, say that the most disastrous consequences would occur, in my opinion, were we to go home, doing nothing to satisfy and tranquillize the country upon these great questions.  What will be the judgment of mankind, what the judgment of that portion of mankind who are looking upon the progress of this scheme of self-government as being that which holds the highest hopes and expectations of ameliorating the condition of mankind—­what will their judgment be?  Will not all the monarchs of the Old World pronounce our glorious Republic a disgraceful failure?  What will be the judgment of our constituents, when we return to them and they ask us:  “How have you left your country?  Is all quiet—­all happy?  Are all the seeds of distraction or division crushed and dissipated?” And, sir, when you come into the bosom of your family, when you come to converse with the partner of your fortunes, of your happiness, and of your sorrows, and when in the midst of the common offspring of both of you, she asks you:  “Is there any danger of civil war?  Is there any danger of the torch being applied to any portion of the country?  Have you settled the questions which you have been so long discussing and deliberating upon at Washington?  Is all peace and all quiet?” what response, Mr. President, can you make to that wife of your choice and those children with whom you have been blessed by God?  Will you go home and leave all in disorder and confusion—­all unsettled—­all open?  The contentions and agitations of the past will be increased and augmented by the agitations resulting from our neglect to decide them.  Sir, we shall stand condemned by all human judgment below, and of that above it is not for me to speak.  We shall stand condemned in our own consciences, by our own constituents, and by our own country.