Moreover, as though sardonically to complicate all these much-mingled matters, there thrust up to the northward, out of the permitted slavery region of the South, the state of Missouri, quite above the fateful line of thirty-six degrees, thirty minutes, where slavery was permitted both by _federal_ and _state_ enactment.
Men spoke even then, openly or secretly, of disunion; but in full truth, there had as yet been no actual union.

In such confusion, what man could call unwise a halting-time, a compromise?
A country of tenures so mixed, of theories so diverse, could scarcely have been called a land of common government.

It arrogated to itself, over all its dominion, the title of a free republic, yet by its own mutual covenant of national law, any owner of slaves in the southern states might pursue what he called his property across the dividing line, and invoke, in any northern state, the support of the state or national officers to assist him in taking back his slaves.

As a republic we called ourselves even then old and stable.

Yet was ever any country riper for misrule than ours?
Forgetting now what is buried, the old arguments all forgot, that most bloody and most lamentable war all forgot, could any mind, any imagination, depict a situation more rife with tumult, more ripe for war than this?
And was it not perforce an issue, of compromise or war; of compromise, or a union never to be consummated?
Yet into this heterogeneous region, from all Europe, itself convulsed with revolution, Europe just beginning to awaken to the doctrine of the rights of humanity, there pressed westward ever increasing thousands of new inhabitants--in that current year over a third of a million, the largest immigration thus far known.