Chapter LIV: Book III: Great Speeches on Great Issues (5)

Sir, the spirit of the people sunk under these appeals. Such was the effect produced by them on the public mind, that the very agents of the government (as appears from their public advertisements, now before me) could not obtain loans without a pledge that “the names of the subscribers should not be known.” Here are the advertisements: “The names of all subscribers” (say Gilbert and Dean, the brokers employed by government) “shall be known only to the undersigned.” As if those who came forward to aid their country, in the hour of her utmost need, were engaged in some dark and foul conspiracy, they were assured “that their names should not be known.” Can any thing show more conclusively the unhappy state of public feeling which prevailed at that day than this single fact? Of the same character with these measures was the conduct of Massachusetts in withholding her militia from the service of the United States, and devising measures for withdrawing her quota of the taxes, thereby attempting, not merely to cripple the resources of the country, but actually depriving the government (as far as depended upon her) of all the means of carrying on the war—of the bone, and muscle, and sinews of war—“of man and steel—the soldier and his sword.” But it seems Massachusetts was to reserve her resources for herself—she was to defend and protect her own shores. And how was that duty performed? In some places on the coast neutrality was declared, and the enemy was suffered to invade the soil of Massachusetts, and allowed to occupy her territory until the peace, without one effort to rescue it from his grasp. Nay, more—while our own government and our rulers were considered as enemies, the troops of the enemy were treated like friends—the most intimate commercial relations were established with them, and maintained up to the peace. At this dark period of our national affairs, where was the senator from Massachusetts? How were his political associates employed? “Calculating the value of the Union?” Yes, sir, that was the propitious moment, when our country stood alone, the last hope of the world, struggling for her existence against the colossal power of Great Britain, “concentrated one mighty effort to crush us at a blow;” that was the chosen hour to revive the grand scheme of building up “a great northern confederacy”—a scheme which, it is stated in the work before me, had its origin as far back as the year 1796, and which appears never to have been entirely abandoned.

In the language of the writers of that day, (1796,) “rather than have a constitution such as the anti-federalists were contending for, (such as we are now contending for,) the Union ought to be dissolved;” and to prepare the way for that measure, the same methods were resorted to then that have always been relied on for that purpose, exciting prejudice against the south. Yes, sir, our northern brethren were then told, “that if the negroes were good for food, their southern masters would claim the right to destroy them at pleasure.” (Olive Branch, p. 267.) Sir, in 1814, all these topics were revived. Again we hear of “northern confederacy.” “The slave states by themselves;” “the mountains are the natural boundary;” we want neither “the counsels nor the power of the west,” &c., &c. The papers teemed with accusations against the _south_ and the _west_, and the calls for a dissolution of all connection with them were loud and strong. I cannot consent to go through the disgusting details. But to show the height to which the spirit of disaffection was carried, I will take you to the temple of the living God, and show you _that sacred place_, which should be devoted to the extension of “peace on earth and good will towards men,” where “_one day’s truce_ ought surely to be allowed to the dissensions and animosities of mankind,” converted into _a fierce arena of political strife_, where, from the lips of the priest, standing between the horns of the altar, there went forth the most _terrible denunciations_ against all who should be true to their country in the hour of her utmost need.

“If you do not wish,” said a reverend clergyman, in a sermon preached in Boston, on the 23d of July, 1812, “to become the slaves of those who own slaves, and who are themselves the slaves of French slaves, you must either, _in the language of the day_, CUT THE CONNECTION or so far alter the national compact as to insure to yourselves a due share in the government.” (Olive Branch, p. 319.) “The Union,” says the same writer, (p. 320,) “has been long since virtually dissolved, and it is full time that this part of the disunited states should take care of itself.”

Another reverend gentleman, pastor of a church at Medford, (p. 321,) issues his anathema—“LET HIM STAND ACCURSED”—against all, all who by their “personal services,” for “loans of money,” “conversation,” or “writing,” or “influence,” give countenance or support to the righteous war, in the following terms: “That man is an accomplice in the wickedness—he loads his conscience with the blackest crimes—he brings the guilt of blood upon his soul, and in the sight of God and his law, _he is a_ MURDERER.”

One or two more quotations, sir, and I shall have done. A reverend doctor of divinity, the pastor of a church at Byfield, Massachusetts, on the 7th of April, 1814, thus addresses his flock, (p. 321:) “The Israelites became weary of yielding the fruit of their labor to pamper their splendid tyrants. They left their political woes. THEY SEPARATED; where is our Moses? Where the rod of his miracles? Where is our Aaron? Alas! no voice from the burning bush has directed them here.”

“We must trample on the mandates of despotism, or remain slaves forever,” (p. 322.) “You must drag the chains of Virginian despotism, unless you discover some other mode of escape.” “Those Western States which have been violent for this abominable war—those states which have thirsted for blood—God has given them blood to drink,” (p. 323.) Mr. President, I can go no further. The records of the day are full of such sentiments, issued from the press, spoken in public assemblies, poured out from the sacred desk. God forbid, sir, that I should charge the people of Massachusetts with participating in these sentiments. The south and the west had there their friends—men who stood by their country, though encompassed all around by their enemies. The senator from Massachusetts (Mr. Silsbee) was one of them; the senator from Connecticut (Mr. Foot) was another; and there are others now on this floor. The sentiments I have read were the sentiments of a party embracing the political associates of the gentleman from Massachusetts. If they could only be found in the columns of a newspaper, in a few occasional pamphlets, issued by men of intemperate feeling, I should not consider them as affording any evidence of the opinions even of the peace party of New England. But, sir, they were the common language of that day; they pervaded the whole land; they were issued from the legislative hall, from the pulpit, and the press. Our books are full of them; and there is no man who now hears me but knows that they were the sentiments of a party, by whose members they were promulgated. Indeed, no evidence of this would seem to be required beyond the fact that such sentiments found their way even into the pulpits of New England. What must be the state of public opinion, where any respectable clergyman would venture to preach, and to print, sermons containing the sentiments I have quoted? I doubt not the piety or moral worth of these gentlemen. I am told they were respectable and pious men. But they were men, and they “kindled in a common blaze.” And now, sir, I must be suffered to remark that, at this awful and melancholy period of our national history, the gentleman from Massachusetts, who now manifests so great a devotion to the Union, and so much anxiety lest it should be endangered from the south, was “with his brethren in Israel.” He saw all these things passing before his eyes—he heard these sentiments uttered all around him. I do not charge that gentleman with any participation in these acts, or with approving of these sentiments.

But I will ask, why, if he was animated by the same sentiments then which he now professes, if he can “augur disunion at a distance, and snuff up rebellion in every tainted breeze,” why did he not, at that day, exert his great talents and acknowledged influence with the political associates by whom he was surrounded, and who then, as now, looked up to him for guidance and direction, in allaying this general excitement, in pointing out to his deluded friends the value of the Union, in instructing them that, instead of looking “to some prophet to lead them out of the land of Egypt,” they should become reconciled to their brethren, and unite with them in the support of a just and necessary war? Sir, the gentleman must excuse me for saying, that if the records of our country afforded any evidence that he had pursued such a course, then, if we could find it recorded in the history of those times, that, like the immortal Dexter, he had breasted that mighty torrent which was sweeping before it all that was great and valuable in our political institutions—if like him he had stood by his country in opposition to his party, sir, we would, like little children, listen to his precepts, and abide by his counsels.

As soon as the public mind was sufficiently prepared for the measure, the celebrated Hartford Convention was got up; not as the act of a few unauthorized individuals, but by the authority of the legislature of Massachusetts; and, as has been shown by the able historian of that convention, in accordance with the views and wishes of the party of which it was the organ. Now, sir, I do not desire to call in question the motives of the gentlemen who composed that assembly. I knew many of them to be in private life accomplished and honorable men, and I doubt not there were some among them who did not perceive the dangerous tendency of their proceedings. I will even go further, and say, that if the authors of the Hartford Convention believed that “gross, deliberate, and palpable violations of the constitution” had taken place, utterly destructive of their rights and interests, I should be the last man to deny their right to resort to any constitutional measures for redress. But, sir, in any view of the case, the time when and the circumstances under which that convention assembled, as well as the measures recommended, render their conduct, in my opinion wholly indefensible. Let us contemplate, for a moment, the spectacle then exhibited to the view of the world. I will not go over the disasters of the war, nor describe the difficulties in which the government was involved. It will be recollected that its credit was nearly gone, Washington had fallen, the whole coast was blockaded, and an immense force, collected in the West Indies, was about to make a descent, which it was supposed we had no means of resisting. In this awful state of our public affairs, when the government seemed almost to be tottering on its base, when Great Britain, relieved from all her other enemies, had proclaimed her purpose of “reducing us to unconditional submission,” we beheld the peace party of New England (in the language of the work before us) pursuing a course calculated to do more injury to their country, “and to render England more effective service than all her armies.” Those who could not find it in their hearts to rejoice at our victories sang Te Deum at the King’s Chapel in Boston, for the restoration of the Bourbons. Those who could not consent to illuminate their dwellings for the capture of the Guerriere could give no visible tokens of their joy at the fall of Detroit. The “beacon fires” of their hills were lighted up, not for the encouragement of their friends, but as signals to the enemy; and in the gloomy hours of midnight, the very lights burned blue. Such were the dark and portentous signs of the times, which ushered into being the renowned Hartford Convention. That convention met, and, from their proceedings, it appears that their chief object was to keep back the money and men of New England from the service of the Union, and to effect radical changes in the government—changes that can never be effected without a dissolution of the Union.

Let us now, sir, look at their proceedings. I read from “A Short Account of the Hartford Convention,” (written by one of its members,) a very rare book, of which I was fortunate enough, a few years ago, to obtain a copy. [Here Mr. H. read from the proceedings.[81]]

It is unnecessary to trace the matter further, or to ask what would have been the next chapter in this history, if the measures recommended had been carried into effect; and if, with the men and money of New England withheld from the government of the United States, she had been withdrawn from the war; if New Orleans had fallen into the hands of the enemy; and if, without troops and almost destitute of money, the Southern and the Western States had been thrown upon their own resources, for the prosecution of the war, and the recovery of New Orleans.

Sir, whatever may have been the issue of the contest, the Union must have been dissolved. But a wise and just Providence, which “shapes our ends, roughhew them as we will,” gave us the victory, and crowned our efforts with a glorious peace. The ambassadors of Hartford were seen retracing their steps from Washington, “the bearers of the glad tidings of great joy.” Courage and patriotism triumphed—the country was saved—the Union was preserved. And are we, Mr. President, who stood by our country then, who threw open our coffers, who bared our bosoms, who freely perilled all in that conflict, to be reproached with want of attachment to the Union? If, sir, we are to have lessons of patriotism read to us, they must come from a different quarter. The senator from Massachusetts, who is now so sensitive on all subjects connected with the Union, seems to have a memory forgetful of the political events that have passed away. I must therefore refresh his recollection a little further on these subjects. The history of disunion has been written by one whose authority stands too high with the American people to be questioned; I mean Thomas Jefferson. I know not how the gentleman may receive this authority. When that great and good man occupied the presidential chair, I believe he commanded no portion of the gentleman’s respect.

I hold in my hand a celebrated pamphlet on the embargo, in which language is held, in relation to Mr. Jefferson, which my respect for his memory will prevent me from reading, unless any gentleman should call for it. But the senator from Massachusetts has since joined in singing hosannas to his name; he has assisted at his apotheosis, and has fixed him as “a brilliant star in the clear upper sky.” I hope, therefore, he is now prepared to receive with deference and respect the high authority of Mr. Jefferson. In the fourth volume of his Memoirs, which has just issued from the press, we have the following history of disunion from the pen of that illustrious statesman: “Mr. Adams called on me pending the embargo, and while endeavors were making to obtain its repeal: he spoke of the dissatisfaction of the eastern portion of our confederacy with the restraints of the embargo then existing, and their restlessness under it; that there was nothing which might not be attempted to rid themselves of it; that he had information of the most unquestionable authority, that certain citizens of the Eastern States (I think he named Massachusetts particularly) were in negotiation with agents of the British government, the object of which was an agreement that the New England States should take no further part in the war (the commercial war, the ‘war of restrictions,’ as it was called) then going on, and that, without formally declaring their separation from the Union, they should withdraw from all aid and obedience to them, &c. From that moment,” says Mr. J., “I saw the necessity of abandoning it, [the embargo,] and, instead of effecting our purpose by this peaceful measure, we must fight it out or break the Union.” In another letter Mr. Jefferson adds, “I doubt whether a single fact known to the world will carry as clear conviction to it of the correctness of our knowledge of the treasonable views of the federal party of that day, as that disclosed by this, the most nefarious and daring attempt to dissever the Union, of which the Hartford Convention was a subsequent chapter; and both of these having failed, consolidation becomes the fourth chapter of the next book of their history. But this opens with a vast accession of strength, from their younger recruits, who, having nothing in them of the feelings and principles of ’76, now look to a single and splendid government, &c., riding and ruling over the plundered ploughman and beggared yeomanry.” (vol. iv. pp. 419, 422.)

The last chapter, says Mr. Jefferson, of that history, is to be found in the conduct of those who are endeavoring to bring about consolidation; ay, sir, that very consolidation for which the gentleman from Massachusetts is contending—the exercise by the federal government of powers not delegated in relation to “internal improvements” and “the protection of manufactures.” And why, sir, does Mr. Jefferson consider consolidation as leading directly to disunion? Because he knew that the exercise, by the federal government, of the powers contended for, would make this “a government without limitation of powers,” the submission to which he considered as a greater evil than disunion itself. There is one chapter in this history, however, which Mr. Jefferson has not filled up; and I must therefore supply the deficiency. It is to be found in the protests made by New England against the acquisition of Louisiana. In relation to that subject, the New England doctrine is thus laid down by one of her learned doctors of that day, now a doctor of laws, at the head of the great literary institution of the east; I mean Josiah Quincy, president of Harvard College. I quote from the speech delivered by that gentleman on the floor of Congress, on the occasion of the admission of Louisiana into the Union.

“Mr. Quincy repeated and justified a remark he had made, which, to save all misapprehension, he had committed to writing, in the following words: If this bill passes, it is my deliberate opinion that it is virtually a dissolution of the Union; that it will free the states from their moral obligation; and as it will be the right of all, so it will be the duty of some, to prepare for a separation, amicably if they can, violently if they must.”

Mr. President, I wish it to be distinctly understood, that all the remarks I have made on this subject are intended to be exclusively applied to a party, which I have described as the “peace party of New England”—embracing the political associates of the senator from Massachusetts—a party which controlled the operations of that state during the embargo and the war, and who are justly chargeable with all the measures I have reprobated. Sir, nothing has been further from my thoughts than to impeach the character or conduct of the people of New England. For their steady habits and hardy virtues I trust I entertain a becoming respect. I fully subscribe to the truth of the description given before the revolution, by one whose praise is the highest eulogy, “that the perseverance of Holland, the activity of France, and the dexterous and firm sagacity of English enterprise, have been more than equalled by this recent people.” The hardy people of New England of the present day are worthy of their ancestors. Still less, Mr. President, has it been my intention to say anything that could be construed into a want of respect for that party, who, have been true to their principles in the worst of times; I mean the democracy of New England.

Sir, I will declare that, highly as I appreciate the democracy of the south, I consider even higher praise to be due to the democracy of New England, who have maintained their principles “through good and through evil report,” who, at every period of our national history, have stood up manfully for “their country, their whole country, and nothing but their country.” In the great political revolution of ’98, they were found united with the democracy of the south, marching under the banner of the constitution, led on by the patriarch of liberty, in search of the land of political promise, which they lived not only to behold, but to possess and to enjoy. Again, sir, in the darkest and most gloomy period of the war, when our country stood singlehanded against “the conqueror of the conquerors of the world,” when all about and around them was dark and dreary, disastrous and discouraging, they stood a Spartan band in that narrow pass, where the honor of their country was to be defended, or to find its grave. And in the last great struggle, involving, as we believe, the very existence of the principle of popular sovereignty, where were the democracy of New England? Where they always have been found, sir, struggling side by side, with their brethren of the south and the west for popular rights, and assisting in that triumph, by which the man of the people was elevated to the highest office in their gift.

Who, then, Mr. President, are the true friends of the Union? Those who would confine the federal government strictly within the limits prescribed by the constitution; who would preserve to the states and the people all powers not expressly delegated; who would make this a federal and not a national Union, and who, administering the government in a spirit of equal justice, would make it a blessing, and not a curse. And who are its enemies? Those who are in favor of consolidation; who are constantly stealing power from the states, and adding strength to the federal government; who, assuming an unwarrantable jurisdiction over the states and the people, undertake to regulate the whole industry and capital of the country. But, sir, of all descriptions of men, I consider those as the worst enemies of the Union, who sacrifice the equal rights which belong to every member of the confederacy to combinations of interested majorities, for personal or political objects. But the gentleman apprehends no evil from the dependence of the states on the federal government; he can see no danger of corruption from the influence of money or of patronage. Sir, I know that it is supposed to be a wise saying that “patronage is a source of weakness;” and in support of that maxim, it has been said, that “every ten appointments make a hundred enemies.” But I am rather inclined to think, with the eloquent and sagacious orator now reposing on his laurels on the banks of the Roanoke, that “the power of conferring favors creates a crowd of dependants;” he gave a forcible illustration of the truth of the remark, when he told us of the effect of holding up the savory morsel to the eager eyes of the hungry hounds gathered around his door. It mattered not whether the gift was bestowed on Towzer or Sweetlips, “Tray, Blanche, or Sweetheart;” while held in suspense, they were governed by a nod, and when the morsel was bestowed, expectation of favors of to-morrow kept up the subjection of to-day.

The senator from Massachusetts, in denouncing what he is pleased to call the Carolina doctrine, has attempted to throw ridicule upon the idea that a state has any constitutional remedy, by the exercise of its sovereign authority, against “a gross, palpable, and deliberate violation of the constitution.” He calls it “an idle” or “a ridiculous notion,” or something to that effect, and added, that it would make the Union a “mere rope of sand.” Now, sir, as the gentleman has not condescended to enter into any examination of the question, and has been satisfied with throwing the weight of his authority into the scale, I do not deem it necessary to do more than to throw into the opposite scale the authority on which South Carolina relies; and there, for the present, I am perfectly willing to leave the controversy. The South Carolina doctrine, that is to say, the doctrine contained in an exposition reported by a committee of the legislature in December, 1828, and published by their authority, is the good old republican doctrine of ’98—the doctrine of the celebrated “Virginia Resolutions” of that year, and of “Madison’s Report” of ’99. It will be recollected that the legislature of Virginia, in December, ’98, took into consideration the alien and sedition laws, then considered by all republicans as a gross violation of the constitution of the United States, and on that day passed, among others, the following resolutions,—

“The General Assembly doth explicitly and peremptorily declare, that
it views the powers of the federal government, as resulting from the
compact to which the states are parties, as limited by the plain sense
and intention of the instrument constituting that compact, as no
further valid than they are authorized by the grants enumerated in
that compact; and that in case of a deliberate, palpable, and
dangerous exercise of other powers not granted by the said compact,
the states who are parties thereto have the right, and are in duty
bound, to interpose for arresting the progress of the evil, and for
maintaining, within their respective limits, authorities, rights, and
liberties, belonging to them.”

In addition to the above resolution, the General Assembly of Virginia “appealed to the other states, in the confidence that they would concur with that commonwealth, that the acts aforesaid [the alien and sedition laws] are unconstitutional, and that the necessary and proper measures would be taken by each for co-operating with Virginia in maintaining unimpaired the authorities, rights, and liberties reserved to the states respectively, or to the people.”

The legislatures of several of the New England States, having, contrary to the expectation of the legislature of Virginia, expressed their dissent from these doctrines, the subject came up again for consideration during the session of 1799, 1800, when it was referred to a select committee, by whom was made that celebrated report which is familiarly known as “Madison’s Report,” and which deserves to last as long as the constitution itself. In that report, which was subsequently adopted by the legislature, the whole subject was deliberately re-examined, and the objections urged against the Virginia doctrines carefully considered. The result was, that the legislature of Virginia reaffirmed all the principles laid down in the resolutions of 1798, and issued to the world that admirable report which has stamped the character of Mr. Madison as the preserver of that constitution which he had contributed so largely to create and establish. I will here quote from Mr. Madison’s report one or two passages which bear more immediately on the point in controversy. “The resolutions, having taken this view of the federal compact, proceed to infer ‘that in case of a deliberate, palpable, and dangerous exercise of other powers the states who are parties thereto have the right, and are in duty bound, to interpose for arresting the progress of the evil, and for maintaining, within their respective limits, the authorities, rights, and liberties appertaining to them.’”

“It appears to your committee to be a plain principle, founded in
common sense, illustrated by common practice, and essential to the
nature of compacts, that, where resort can be had to no tribunal
superior to the authority of the parties, the parties themselves must
be the rightful judges in the last resort, whether the bargain made
has been pursued or violated. The constitution of the United States
was formed by the sanction of the states, given by each in its
sovereign capacity. It adds to the stability and dignity, as well as
to the authority, of the constitution, that it rests upon this
legitimate and solid foundation. The states, then, being the parties
to the constitutional compact, and in their sovereign capacity, it
follows of necessity that there can be no tribunal above their
authority, to decide, in the last resort, whether the compact made by
them be violated, and consequently that, as the parties to it, they
must decide, in the last resort, such questions as may be of
sufficient magnitude to require their interposition.”

“The resolution has guarded against any misapprehension of its object
by expressly requiring for such an interposition ‘the case of a
deliberate, palpable, and dangerous breach of the constitution, by the
exercise of powers not granted by it.’ It must be a case, not of a
light and transient nature, but of a nature dangerous to the great
purposes for which the constitution was established.

“But the resolution has done more than guard against misconstructions,
by expressly referring to cases of a deliberate, palpable, and
dangerous nature. It specifies the object of the interposition, which
it contemplates, to be solely that of arresting the progress of the
evil of usurpation, and of maintaining the authorities, rights, and
liberties appertaining to the states, as parties to the constitution.

“From this view of the resolution, it would seem inconceivable that it
can incur any just disapprobation from those who, laying aside all
momentary impressions, and recollecting the genuine source and object
of the federal constitution, shall candidly and accurately interpret
the meaning of the General Assembly. If the deliberate exercise of
dangerous powers, palpably withheld by the constitution, could not
justify the parties to it in interposing even so far as to arrest the
progress of the evil, and thereby to preserve the constitution itself,
as well as to provide for the safety of the parties to it, there would
be an end to all relief from usurped power, and a direct subversion of
the rights specified or recognized under all the state constitutions,
as well as a plain denial of the fundamental principles on which our
independence itself was declared.”

But, sir, our authorities do not stop here. The state of Kentucky responded to Virginia, and on the 10th of November, 1798, adopted those celebrated resolutions, well known to have been penned by the author of the Declaration of American Independence. In those resolutions, the legislature of Kentucky declare, “that the government created by this compact was not made the exclusive or final judge of the extent of the powers delegated to itself, since that would have made its discretion, and not the constitution, the measure of its powers; but that, as in all other cases of compact among parties having no common judge, each party has an equal right to judge, for itself, as well of infractions as of the mode and measure of redress.”

At the ensuing session of the legislature, the subject was re-examined, and on the 14th of November, 1799, the resolutions of the preceding year were deliberately reaffirmed, and it was, among other things, solemnly declared,—

“That, if those who administer the general government be permitted to
transgress the limits fixed by that compact, by a total disregard to
the special delegations of power therein contained, an annihilation of
the state governments, and the erection upon their ruins of a general
consolidated government, will be the inevitable consequence. That the
principles of construction contended for by sundry of the state
legislatures, that the general government is the exclusive judge of
the extent of the powers delegated to it, stop nothing short of
despotism; since the discretion of those who administer the
government, and not the constitution, would be the measure of their
powers. That the several states who formed that instrument, being
sovereign and independent, have the unquestionable right to judge of
its infraction, and that a nullification, by those sovereignties, of
all unauthorized acts done under color of that instrument, is the
rightful remedy.”

Time and experience confirmed Mr. Jefferson’s opinion on this all important point. In the year 1821, he expressed himself in this emphatic manner: “It is a fatal heresy to suppose that either our state governments are superior to the federal, or the federal to the state; neither is authorized literally to decide which belongs to itself or its copartner in government; in differences of opinion, between their different sets of public servants, the appeal is to neither, but to their employers peaceably assembled by their representatives in convention.” The opinion of Mr. Jefferson on this subject has been so repeatedly and so solemnly expressed, that they may be said to have been the most fixed and settled convictions of his mind.

In the protest prepared by him for the legislature of Virginia, in December, 1825, in respect to the powers exercised by the federal government in relation to the tariff and internal improvements, which he declares to be “usurpations of the powers retained by the states, mere interpolations into the compact, and direct infractions of it,” he solemnly reasserts all the principles of the Virginia Resolutions of ’98, protests against “these acts of the federal branch of the government as null and void, and declares that, although Virginia would consider a dissolution of the Union as among the greatest calamities that could befall them, yet it is not the greatest. There is one yet greater—submission to a government of unlimited powers. It is only when the hope of this shall become absolutely desperate, that further forbearance could not be indulged.”

In his letter to Mr. Giles, written about the same time, he says,—

“I see as you do, and with the deepest affliction, the rapid strides
with which the federal branch of our government is advancing towards
the usurpation of all the rights reserved to the states, and the
consolidation in itself of all powers, foreign and domestic, and that
too by constructions which leave no limits to their powers, &c. Under
the power to regulate commerce, they assume, indefinitely, that also
over agriculture and manufactures, &c. Under the authority to
establish post roads, they claim that of cutting down mountains for
the construction of roads, and digging canals, &c. And what is our
resource for the preservation of the constitution? Reason and
argument? You might as well reason and argue with the marble columns
encircling them, &c. Are we then to stand to our arms with the
hot-headed Georgian? No; [and I say no, and South Carolina has said
no;] that must be the last resource. We must have patience and long
endurance with our brethren, &c., and separate from our companions
only when the sole alternatives left are a dissolution of our Union
with them, or submission. Between these two evils, when we must make a
choice, there can be no hesitation.”

Such, sir, are the high and imposing authorities in support of “The Carolina doctrine,” which is, in fact, the doctrine of the Virginia Resolutions of 1798.

Sir, at that day the whole country was divided on this very question. It formed the line of demarcation between the federal and republican parties; and the great political revolution which then took place turned upon the very questions involved in these resolutions. That question was decided by the people, and by that decision the constitution was, in the emphatic language of Mr. Jefferson, “saved at its last gasp.” I should suppose, sir, it would require more self-respect than any gentleman here would be willing to assume, to treat lightly doctrines derived from such high resources. Resting on authority like this, I will ask gentlemen whether South Carolina has not manifested a high regard for the Union, when, under a tyranny ten times more grievous than the alien and sedition laws, she has hitherto gone no further than to petition, remonstrate, and to solemnly protest against a series of measures which she believes to be wholly unconstitutional and utterly destructive of her interests. Sir, South Carolina has not gone one step further than Mr. Jefferson himself was disposed to go, in relation to the present subject of our present complaints—not a step further than the statesman from New England was disposed to go, under similar circumstances; no further than the senator from Massachusetts himself once considered as within “the limits of a constitutional opposition.” The doctrine that it is the right of a state to judge of the violations of the constitution on the part of the federal government, and to protect her citizens from the operations of unconstitutional laws, was held by the enlightened citizens of Boston, who assembled in Faneuil Hall, on the 25th of January, 1809. They state, in that celebrated memorial, that “they looked only to the state legislature, who were competent to devise relief against the unconstitutional acts of the general government. That your power (say they) is adequate to that object, is evident from the organization of the confederacy.”

A distinguished senator from one of the New England States, (Mr. Hillhouse,) in a speech delivered here, on a bill for enforcing the embargo, declared, “I feel myself bound in conscience to declare, (lest the blood of those who shall fall in the execution of this measure shall be on my head,) that I consider this to be an act which directs a mortal blow at the liberties of my country—an act containing unconstitutional provisions, to which the people are not bound to submit, and to which, in my opinion, they will not submit.”

And the senator from Massachusetts himself, in a speech delivered on the same subject in the other house, said, “This opposition is constitutional and legal; it is also conscientious. It rests on settled and sober conviction, that such policy is destructive to the interests of the people, and dangerous to the being of government. The experience of every day confirms these sentiments. Men who act from such motives are not to be discouraged by trifling obstacles, nor awed by any dangers. They know the limit of constitutional opposition; up to that limit, at their own discretion, they will walk, and walk fearlessly.” How “the being of the government” was to be endangered by “constitutional opposition” to the embargo, I leave the gentleman to explain.

Thus it will be seen, Mr. President, that the South Carolina doctrine is the republican doctrine of ’98—that it was promulgated by the fathers of the faith—that it was maintained by Virginia and Kentucky in the worst of times—that it constituted the very pivot on which the political revolution of that day turned—that it embraces the very principles, the triumph of which, at that time, saved the constitution at its last gasp, and which New England statesmen were not unwilling to adopt, when they believed themselves to be the victims of unconstitutional legislation. Sir, as to the doctrine that the federal government is the exclusive judge of the extent as well as the limitations of its powers, it seems to me to be utterly subversive of the sovereignty and independence of the states. It makes but little difference, in my estimation, whether Congress or the Supreme Court are invested with this power. If the federal government, in all, or any, of its departments, is to prescribe the limits of its own authority, and the states are bound to submit to the decision, and are not to be allowed to examine and decide for themselves, when the barriers of the constitution shall be overleaped, this is practically “a government without limitation of powers.” The states are at once reduced to mere petty corporations, and the people are entirely at your mercy. I have but one word more to add. In all the efforts that have been made by South Carolina to resist the unconstitutional laws which Congress has extended over them, she has kept steadily in view the preservation of the Union, by the only means by which she believes it can be long preserved—a firm, manly, and steady resistance against usurpation. The measures of the federal government have, it is true, prostrated her interests, and will soon involve the whole south in irretrievable ruin. But even this evil, great as it is, is not the chief ground of our complaints. It is the principle involved in the contest—a principle which, substituting the discretion of Congress for the limitations of the constitution, brings the states and the people to the feet of the federal government, and leaves them nothing they can call their own. Sir, if the measures of the federal government were less oppressive, we should still strive against this usurpation. The south is acting on a principle she has always held sacred—resistance to unauthorized taxation. These, sir, are the principles which induced the immortal Hampden to resist the payment of a tax of twenty shillings. Would twenty shillings have ruined his fortune? No! but the payment of half twenty shillings, on the principle on which it was demanded, would have made him a slave. Sir, if acting on these high motives—if animated by that ardent love of liberty which has always been the most prominent trait in the southern character—we should be hurried beyond the bounds of a cold and calculating prudence, who is there, with one noble and generous sentiment in his bosom, that would not be disposed, in the language of Burke, to exclaim, “You must pardon something to the spirit of liberty?”

Webster’s Great Reply to Hayne,

_In which he “Expounds the Constitution,” delivered in Senate, January
26, 1830_.

Following Mr. Hayne in the debate, Mr. Webster addressed the Senate as follows:—

Mr. President: When the mariner has been tossed, for many days, in thick weather, and on an unknown sea, he naturally avails himself of the first pause in the storm, the earliest glance of the sun, to take his latitude, and ascertain how far the elements have driven him from his true course. Let us imitate this prudence, and before we float farther, refer to the point from which we departed, that we may at least be able to conjecture where we now are. I ask for the reading of the resolution.

[The Secretary read the resolution as follows:

“_Resolved_, That the committee on public lands be instructed to
inquire and report the quantity of the public lands remaining unsold
within each state and territory, and whether it be expedient to limit,
for a certain period, the sales of the public lands to such lands only
as have heretofore been offered for sale, and are now subject to entry
at the minimum price. And, also, whether the office of surveyor
general, and some of the land offices, may not be abolished without
detriment to the public interest; or whether it be expedient to adopt
measures to hasten the sales, and extend more rapidly the surveys of
the public lands.”]

We have thus heard, sir, what the resolution is, which is actually before us for consideration; and it will readily occur to every one that it is almost the only subject about which something has not been said in the speech, running through two days, by which the Senate has been now entertained by the gentleman from South Carolina. Every topic in the wide range of our public affairs, whether past or present,—every thing, general or local, whether belonging to national politics or party politics,—seems to have attracted more or less of the honorable member’s attention, save only the resolution before us. He has spoken of every thing but the public lands. They have escaped his notice. To that subject, in all his excursions, he has not paid even the cold respect of a passing glance.

When this debate, sir, was to be resumed, on Thursday morning, it so happened that it would have been convenient for me to be elsewhere. The honorable member, however, did not incline to put off the discussion to another day. He had a shot, he said, to return, and he wished to discharge it. That shot, sir, which it was kind thus to inform us was coming, that we might stand out of the way, or prepare ourselves to fall before it, and die with decency, has now been received. Under all advantages, and with expectation awakened by the tone which preceded it, it has been discharged, and has spent its force. It may become me to say no more of its effect than that, if nobody is found, after all, either killed or wounded by it, it is not the first time in the history of human affairs that the vigor and success of the war have not quite come up to the lofty and sounding phrase of the manifesto.

The gentleman, sir, in declining to postpone the debate, told the Senate, with the emphasis of his hand upon his heart, that there was something rankling _here_, which he wished to relieve. [Mr. Hayne rose and disclaimed having used the word _rankling_.] It would not, Mr. President, be safe for the honorable member to appeal to those around him, upon the question whether he did, in fact, make use of that word. But he may have been unconscious of it. At any rate, it is enough that he disclaims it. But still, with or without the use of that particular word, he had yet something _here_, he said, of which he wished to rid himself by an immediate reply. In this respect, sir, I have a great advantage over the honorable gentleman. There is nothing _here_, sir, which gives me the slightest uneasiness; neither fear, nor anger, nor that which is sometimes more troublesome than either, the consciousness of having been in the wrong. There is nothing either originating _here_, or now received here, by the gentleman’s shot. Nothing original, for I had not the slightest feeling of disrespect or unkindness towards the honorable member. Some passages, it is true, had occurred, since our acquaintance in this body, which I could have wished might have been otherwise; but I had used philosophy, and forgotten them. When the honorable member rose, in his first speech, I paid him the respect of attentive listening; and when he sat down, though surprised, and I must say even astonished, at some of his opinions, nothing was farther from my intention than to commence any personal warfare; and through the whole of the few remarks I made in answer, I avoided, studiously and carefully, every thing which I thought possible to be construed into disrespect. And, sir, while there is thus nothing originating _here_, which I wished at any time, or now wish to discharge, I must repeat, also, that nothing has been received _here_ which _rankles_, or in any way gives me annoyance. I will not accuse the honorable member of violating the rules of civilized war—I will not say that he poisoned his arrows. But whether his shafts were, or were not, dipped in that which would have caused rankling if they had reached, there was not, as it happened, quite strength enough in the bow to bring them to their mark. If he wishes now to find those shafts, he must look for them elsewhere; they will not be found fixed and quivering in the object at which they were aimed.

The honorable member complained that I had slept on his speech. I must have slept on it, or not slept at all. The moment the honorable member sat down, his friend from Missouri arose, and, with much honeyed commendation of the speech, suggested that the impressions which it had produced were too charming and delightful to be disturbed by other sentiments or other sounds, and proposed that the Senate should adjourn. Would it have been quite amiable in me, sir, to interrupt this excellent good feeling? Must I not have been absolutely malicious, if I could have thrust myself forward to destroy sensations thus pleasing? Was it not much better and kinder, both to sleep upon them myself, and to allow others, also, the pleasure of sleeping upon them? But if it be meant, by sleeping upon his speech, that I took time to prepare a reply to it, it is quite a mistake; owing to other engagements, I could not employ even the interval between the adjournment of the Senate and its meeting the next morning in attention to the subject of this debate. Nevertheless, sir, the mere matter of fact is undoubtedly true—I did sleep on the gentleman’s speech, and slept soundly. And I slept equally well on his speech of yesterday, to which I am now replying. It is quite possible that, in this respect, also, I possess some advantage over the honorable member, attributable, doubtless, to a cooler temperament on my part; for in truth I slept upon his speeches remarkably well. But the gentleman inquires why he was made the object of such a reply. Why was he singled out? If an attack had been made on the east, he, he assures us, did not begin it—it was the gentleman from Missouri. Sir, I answered the gentleman’s speech, because I happened to hear it; and because, also, I choose to give an answer to that speech, which, if unanswered, I thought most likely to produce injurious impressions. I did not stop to inquire who was the original drawer of the bill. I found a responsible endorser before me, and it was my purpose to hold him liable, and to bring him to his just responsibility without delay. But, sir, this interrogatory of the honorable member was only introductory to another. He proceeded to ask me whether I had turned upon him in this debate from the consciousness that I should find an overmatch if I ventured on a contest with his friend from Missouri. If, sir, the honorable member, _ex gratia modestiæ_, had chosen thus to defer to his friend, and to pay him a compliment, without intentional disparagement to others, it would have been quite according to the friendly courtesies of debate, and not at all ungrateful to my own feelings. I am not one of those, sir, who esteem any tribute of regard, whether light and occasional, or more serious and deliberate, which may be bestowed on others, as so much unjustly withholden from themselves. But the tone and manner of the gentleman’s question, forbid me thus to interpret it. I am not at liberty to consider it as nothing more than a civility to his friend. It had an air of taunt and disparagement, a little of the loftiness of asserted superiority, which does not allow me to pass it over without notice. It was put as a question for me to answer, and so put as if it were difficult for me to answer, whether I deemed the member from Missouri an overmatch for myself in debate here. It seems to me, sir, that is extraordinary language, and an extraordinary tone for the discussions of this body.