"By appealing to the moral and philosophical foundation work of the nation, Lincoln hoped to provide common ground on which good men in both the North and the South could stand. "I am not now combating the argument of necessity, arising from the fact that the blacks are already amongst us; but I am combating what is set up as moral argument for allowing them to be taken where they have never yet been." Unlike the majority of antislavery orators, who denounced the South and castigated slaveowners as corrupt and un-Christian, Lincoln pointedly denied fundamental differences between Northerners and Southerners. He argued that "they are just what we would be in their situation. If slavery did not now exist amongst them, they would not introduce it. If it did now exist amongst us, we should not instantly give it up. . . . When it is said that the institution exists; and that it is very difficult to get rid of it, in any satisfactory way, I can understand and appreciate the saying. I surely will not blame them for not doing what I should not know how to do myself." And, finally, "when they remind us of their constitutional rights, I acknowledge them . . . and I would give them any legislation for the reclaiming of their fugitives." Rather than upbraid slaveowners, Lincoln sought to comprehend their position through empathy. More than a decade earlier, he had employed a similar approach when he advised temperance advocates to refrain from denouncing drinkers in "thundering tones of anathema and denunciation," for denunciation would inevitably be met with denunciation, "crimination with crimination, and anathema with anathema." In a passage directed at abolitionists as well as temperance reformers, he had observed that it was the nature of man, when told that he should be "shunned and despised," and condemned as the author "of all the vice and misery and crime in the land," to "retreat within himself, close all the avenues to his head and his heart." Though the cause be "naked truth itself, transformed to the heaviest lance, harder than steel," the sanctimonious reformer could no more pierce the heart of the drinker or the slaveowner than "penetrate the hard shell of a tortoise with a rye straw. Such is man, and so must he be understood by those who would lead him." In order to "win a man to your cause," Lincoln explained, you must first reach his heart, "the great high road to his reason." This, he concluded, was the only road to victory--to that glorious day "when there shall be neither a slave nor a drunkard on the earth." Building on his rhetorical advice, Lincoln tried to place"