How truly affecting are the words of Homer, depicting the wife of Hector toiling as bondwoman at the looms of her Grecian master,--or those other undying words which exhibit man in Slavery as shorn of half his worth! The story of Joseph sold by his brothers has been repeated in every form, touching innumerable hearts. Borrowed from the Bible, it figured in the moralities of the Middle Ages and in the later theatre of France. How genius triumphed over Slavery is part of this testimony. Æsop, the fabulist,--one of the world’s greatest teachers, if not lawgivers,--was a slave; so also was Phædrus, the Roman fabulist, whose lessons are commended by purity and elegance; and so, too, was Alcman, the lyric, who shed upon Sparta the grace of poesy. To these add Epictetus, sublime in morals,--and Terence, incomparable in comedy, who gave to the world that immortal verse, which excited the applause of the Roman theatre, “I am a man, and nothing which concerns mankind is foreign to me.” Nor should it be forgotten that the life of Plato was checkered by Slavery. In later days the sympathy is more for a race than for individuals. Unhappily, the ban of color has become a certificate of Slavery, and a large portion of the human family, whose offence was a skin darkened by the hand of God, has been degraded to the condition of chattels. The sympathies once awakened only for illustrious gifts are now bestowed upon suffering humanity, marking an advance in civilization. To be a man is a sufficient title-deed for the rights of man, which we seek to establish. But their triumph among us will be the certain herald of triumph everywhere. In other places Slavery may linger yet a little longer; but its death here will make its continued existence impossible wherever civilization prevails. * * * * * Mr. President, the immediate question before us is on the proposition to prohibit Slavery in our country by Constitutional Amendment; and here I hope to be indulged with regard to the form it should take. A new text of the Constitution cannot be considered too carefully even in this respect, especially when it is nothing less than a new article of Freedom. For a moment we are performing something of that duty which belongs to the _conditores imperiorum_, placed foremost by Lord Bacon in “the degrees of sovereign honor,”[296] and “words” become “things.” From the magnitude of the task we may naturally borrow circumspection, and I approach this part of the question with suggestion rather than argument.