you uttered them with life of flesh and blood. Your example teaches us;
your affectionate addresses teach us; your public life teaches us your
sense of the value of the blessings of the Union. Those blessings our
fathers have tasted, and we have tasted, and still taste. Nor do we intend
that those who come after us shall be denied the same high fruition, Our
honor as well as our happiness is concerned. We cannot, we dare not, we
will not, betray our sacred trust. We will not filch from posterity the
treasure placed in our hands to be transmitted to other generations. The
bow that gilds the clouds in the heavens, tile pillars that uphold the
firmament, may disappear and fall away, in the hour appointed by the will
of God; but, until that day comes, or so long as our lives may last, no
ruthless hand shall undermine that bright arch of Union and Liberty which
spans the continent from Washington to California.
D. Webster.
CXXIII.
THE PLATFORM OF THE CONSTITUTION.
A principal object, in his late political movements the gentleman himself
tells us, was to unite the entire South; and against whom, or against what,
does he wish to unite the entire South? Is not this the very essence of
local feeling and local regard? Is it not the acknowledgment of a wish and
object to create political strength, by uniting political opinions
geographically? While the gentleman wishes to unite the entire South, I
pray to know, sir, if he expects me to turn toward the polar star, and,
acting on the same principle, to utter a cry of Rally! to the whole North?
Heaven forbid! To the day of my death, neither he nor others shall hear
such a cry from me.
Finally, the honorable member declares that he shall now march off, under
the banner of State rights! March off from whom? March off from what? We
have been contending for great principles. We have been struggling to
maintain the liberty and to restore the prosperity of the country; we have
made these struggles here, in the national councils, with the old flag--the
true American flag, the Eagle and the Stars and Stripes--waving over the
chamber in which we sit. He now tells us, however, that he marches off
under the State-rights banner!
Let him go. I remain. I am, where I ever have been, and ever mean to be.
Here, standing on the platform of the general Constitution,--a platform
broad enough, and firm enough, to uphold every interest of the whole
country,--I shall still be found. Intrusted with some part in the
administration of that Constitution, I intend to act in its spirit, and in
the spirit of those who framed it. Yes, sir. I would act as if our fathers,
who formed it for us, and who bequeathed it to us, were looking on me,--as
if I could see their venerable forms, bending down to behold us from the
abodes above! I would act, too, as if the eye of posterity was gazing on
me.
Standing thus, as in the full gaze of our ancestors and our posterity,
having received this inheritance from the former to be transmitted to the
latter, and feeling that, if I am born for any good, in my day and
generation, it is for the good of the whole country,--no local policy, no
local feeling, no temporary impulse, shall induce me to yield my foothold
on the Constitution and the Union. I move off under no banner not known to
the whole American People, and to their Constitution and laws. No, sir!
these walls, these columns,
"shall fly
From their firm base as soon as I."
I came into public life, sir, in the service of the United States. On that
broad altar my earliest and all my public vows have been made. I propose to
serve no other master. So far as depends on any agency of mine, they shall
continue United States;--united in interest and in affection; united in
everything in regard to which the Constitution has decreed their union;
united in war, for the common defense, the common renown, and the common
glory; and united, compacted, knit firmly together, in peace, for the
common prosperity and happiness of ourselves and our children!
D. Webster.
CXXIV.
THE VETERANS OF THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL.
The great event in the history of the Continent, which we are now met here
to commemorate, that prodigy of modern times, at once the wonder and the
blessing of the world, is the American Revolution. In a day of
extraordinary prosperity and happiness, of high national honor,
distinction, and power, we are brought together, in this place, by our love
of country by our admiration of exalted character, by our gratitude for
signal services and patriotic devotion. And we now stand here to enjoy all
the blessings of our own condition, and to look abroad on the brightened
prospects of the world, while we still have among us some of those who were
active agents in the scenes of 1775, and who are now here, from every
quarter of New England, to visit once more, and under circumstances so
affecting,--I had almost said so overwhelming, this renowned theatre of
their courage and patriotism.
Venerable men! you have come down to us from a former generation. Heaven
has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you may behold this joyous
day. You are now where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your
brothers and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your
country. Behold, how altered! The same heavens are indeed over your heads;
the same ocean rolls at your feet; but all else how changed! You hear now
no roar of hostile cannon, you see no mixed volumes of smoke and flame
rising from burning Charlestown. The ground strowed with the dead and the
dying; the impetuous charge; the steady and successful repulse; the loud
call to repeated assault; the summoning of all that is manly to repeated
resistance; a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly bared in an instant to
whatever of terror there may be in war and death;--all these you have
witnessed, but you witness them no more. All is peace. The heights of
yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, which you then saw filled with
wives and children and countrymen in distress and terror, and looking with
unutterable emotions for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day
with the sight of its whole happy population, come out to welcome and greet
you with a universal jubilee. Yonder proud ships by a felicity of position
appropriately lying at the foot of this mount, and seeming fondly to cling
around it, are not means of annoyance to you, but your country's own means
of distinction and defence. All is peace; and God has granted you this
sight of your country's happiness, ere you slumber in the grave. He has
allowed you to behold and to partake the reward of your patriotic toils;
and he has allowed us, your sons and countrymen, to meet you here, and in
the name of the present generation, in the name of your country, in the
name of liberty, to thank you!
But, alas! you are not all here! Time and the sword have thinned your
ranks. Prescott, Putnam, Stark, Brooks, Read, Pomeroy, Bridge! our eyes
seek for you in vain amid ibis broken band. You are gathered to your
fathers, and live only to your county in her grateful remembrance and your
own bright example. But let us not too much grieve, that you have met the
common fate of men. You lived at least long enough to know that your work
had been nobly and successfully accomplished. You lived to see your
country's independence established, and to sheathe your swords from war. On
the light of Liberty you saw arise the light of Peace, like
"another morn
risen on mid-noon;"
and the sky on which you closed your eyes was cloudless.
But ah! Him! the first great martyr in this great cause! Him! the premature
victim of his own self-devoting heart! Him! the head of our civil councils,
and the destined leader of our military bands, whom nothing brought hither
but the unquenchable fire of his own spirit! Him! cut off by Providence in
the hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom; falling ere he saw the
star of his country rise; pouring out his generous blood like water, before
he knew whether it would fertilize a land of freedom or of bondage!--how
shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle the utterance of thy name!
Our poor work may perish; but thine shall endure! This monument may moulder
away; the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to a level with the sea;
but thy memory shall not fail! Wheresoever among men a heart shall be found
that beats to the transports of patriotism and liberty, its aspirations
shall be to claim kindred with thy spirit!
D. Webster.
CXXV.
REPLY TO THE REFLECTIONS OF MR. WALPOLE.
Sir the atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honorable
gentleman has, with such spirit and decency charged upon me, I shall
neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with
wishing,--that I may be one of those whose follies cease with their youth;
and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience.
Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, I will not, sir,
assume the province of determining; but surely, age may become justly
contemptible,--if the opportunities which it brings have passed away
without improvement, and vice appears to prevail when the passions have
subsided. The wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand
errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obstinacy
to stupidity, is surely the object of either abhorrence or contempt; and
deserves not that his gray hairs should secure him from insult. Much more,
sir, is he to be abhorred,--who, as he has advanced in age, has receded
from virtue, and becomes more wicked with less temptation; who prostitutes
himself for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life
in the ruin of his country.
But youth, sir, is not my only crime. I have been accused of acting a
theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarities of
gesture, or dissimulation of my real sentiments, and the adoption of the
opinions and language of another man. In the first sense the charge is too
trifling to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be
despised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language:
and though I may perhaps, have some ambition, yet to please this gentleman,
I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his
diction, or his mien, however matured by age, or modelled by experience. If
any man shall, by charging me with theatrical behavior, imply that I utter
any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a
villain; nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment he
deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple trample upon all
those forms with which wealth and dignity intrench themselves, nor shall
anything but age restrain my resentment; age which always brings one
privilege, that of being insolent and supercilious without punishment. But
with regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion, that if I
had acted a borrowed part I should have avoided their censure; the heat
that offended them was the ardor of conviction, and that zeal for the
service of my country, which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to
suppress. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, nor look
in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at whatever
hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to justice,--whoever may
protect them in their villainy and whoever may partake of their plunder.
Lord Chatham.
CXXVI.
SPEECH AGAINST THE AMERICAN WAR.
I cannot, my Lords, I will not, join in congratulation on misfortune and
disgrace. This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It is not a
time for adulation: the smoothness of flattery cannot save us in this
rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the
language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delusion and darkness
which envelop it, and display, in its full danger and genuine colors, the
ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers still presume to expect
support in their infatuation? Can parliament be so dead to its dignity and
duty, as to give their support to measures thus obtruded and forced upon
them? Measures, my Lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire
to scorn and contempt. "But yesterday and Britain might have stood against
the world; now none so poor as to do her reverence." The people, whom we at
first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are
abetted against us, supplied with every military store, have their
interests consulted, and their ambassadors entertained by our inveterate
enemy--and ministers do not, and dare not, interpose with dignity or
effect. The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man
more highly esteems and honors the British troops than I do; I know their
virtues and their valor: I know they can achieve anything but
impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of British America is an
impossibility. You cannot, my Lords, you cannot conquer America. What is
your present situation there? We do not know the worst; but we know that in
three campaigns, we have done nothing, and suffered much. You may swell
every expense, accumulate every assistance, and extend your traffic to the
shambles of every German despot; your attempts will be forever vain and
impotent--doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which you rely; for
it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your adversaries, to
over run them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them
and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an
American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my
country, I never would lay down my arms--never, Never, NEVER!
Lord Chatham.
CXXVII.
SPEECH AGAINST EMPLOYING INDIANS IN WAR.
But, my Lords, who is the man that, in addition to the disgraces and
mischiefs of our army, has dared to authorize and associate to our arms the
tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage?--to call into civilized alliance
the wild and inhuman inhabitants of the woods?--to delegate to the
merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of
this barbarous war against our brethren? My Lords, these enormities cry
aloud for redress and punishment. But, my Lords, this barbarous measure has
been defended, not only on the principles of policy and necessity but also
on those of morality; "for it is perfectly justifiable," says Lord Suffolk,
"to use all the means which God and nature have put into our hands." I am
astonished!--I am shocked! to hear such principles confessed;--to hear them
avowed in this House, or in this country. My Lords, I did not intend to
encroach so much on your attention, but I cannot repress my indignation--I
feel myself impelled to speak. My Lords, we are called upon as members of
this House, as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible
barbarity!--"That God and nature have put into our hands"! What ideas of
God and nature that noble lord may entertain, I know not; but I know, that
such detestable principles are equally abhorrent to religion and humanity.
What! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature to the massacres
of the Indian scalping-knife! to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering,
devouring, drinking the blood of his mangled victims! Such notions shock
every precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of
honor. These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of
them, demand the most decisive indignation.
I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, to vindicate
the religion of their God, to support the justice of their country. I call
upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn; upon
the learned judges to interpose the enmity of their ermine,--to save us
from this pollution. I call upon the honor of your Lordships, to reverence
the dignity of our ancestors, and to maintain your own. I call upon the
spirit and humanity of my country, to vindicate the national character. I
invoke the genius of the constitution! From the tapestry that adorns these
walls, the immortal ancestor of this noble lord frowns with indignation at
the disgrace of his country. In vain did he defend the liberty, and
establish the religion of Britain, against the tyranny of Rome, if these
worse than popish cruelties, and inquisitorial practices, are endured among
us. To send forth the merciless cannibal, thirsting for blood!--against
whom?--your Protestant brethren! to lay waste their country, to desolate
their dwellings, and extirpate their race and name, by the aid and
instrumentality of these horrible hounds of war! Spain can no longer boast
preëminence in barbarity. She armed herself with bloodhounds, to extirpate
the wretched natives of Mexico, and we improve on the inhuman example even
of Spanish cruelty; we turn loose these savage hell-hounds against our
brethren and countrymen in America, endeared to us by every tie that can
sanctify humanity. I again call upon your Lordships, and upon every order
of men in the State, to stamp upon this infamous procedure the indelible
stigma of the public abhorrence. And I again implore those holy prelates of
our religion to do away this iniquity; let them perform a lustration, to
purify the country from this deep and deadly sin. My Lords, I am old and
weak, and at present unable to say more; but my feelings and indignation
were too strong to have said less. I could not have slept this night in my
bed, nor even reposed my head upon my pillow, without giving vent to my
eternal abhorrence of such enormous and preposterous principles.
Lord Chatham.
CXXVIII.
HONORABLE AMBITION.
I have been accused of ambition in presenting this measure--ambition,
inordinate ambition. If I had thought of myself only, I should have never
brought it forward. I know well the perils to which I expose myself: the
risk of alienating faithful and valued friends, with but little prospect of
making new ones, if any new ones could compensate for the loss of those we
have long tried and loved; and the honest misconception both of friends and
foes. Ambition? If I had listened to its soft and seducing whispers; if I
had yielded myself to the dictates of a cold, calculating, and prudential
policy, I would have stood still and unmoved. I might even have silently
gazed on the raging storm, enjoyed its loudest thunders, and left these who
are charged with the care of the vessel of State to conduct it as they
could.
I have been, heretofore, often unjustly accused of ambition. Low,
grovelling souls, who are utterly incapable of elevating themselves to the
higher and nobler duties of pure patriotism,--beings who, forever keeping
their own selfish ends in view, decide all public measures by their
presumed influence on their aggrandizement--judge me by the venal rule
which they prescribe to themselves. I have given to the winds those false
accusations, as I consign that which now impeaches my motives. I have no
desire for office, not even the highest. The most exalted is but a prison,
in which the incarcerated incumbent daily receives his cold, heartless
visitants, marks his weary hours, and is cut off from the practical
enjoyment of all the blessings of genuine freedom. I am no candidate for
any office in the gift of the people of these States, united or separated;
I never wish, never expect to be.
Pass this bill, tranquillize the country, restore confidence and affection
in the Union, and I am willing to go home to Ashland, and renounce public
service forever. I should there find, in its groves, under its shades, on
its lawns, midst my flocks and herds, in the bosom of my family, sincerity
and truth, attachment and fidelity, and gratitude which I have not always
found in the walks of public life.
Yes, I have ambition! but it is the ambition of being the humble
instrument, in the hands of Providence, to reconcile a divided people; once
more to revive concord and harmony in a distracted land,--the pleasing
ambition of contemplating the glorious spectacle of a free, united,
prosperous, and fraternal people.
H. Clay.
CXXIX.
THE NOBLEST PUBLIC VIRTUE.
There is a sort of courage, to which--I frankly confess it--I do not lay
claim; a boldness to which I dare not aspire; a valor which I cannot covet.
I cannot lay myself down in the way of the welfare and happiness of my
country. That, I cannot, I have not the courage to do. I cannot interpose
the power with which I may be invested,--a power conferred, not for my
personal benefit or aggrandizement, but for my country's good,--to check
her onward march to greatness and glory. I have not courage enough,--I am
too cowardly for that!
I would not, I dare not, lie down, and place my body across the path that
leads my country to prosperity and happiness. This is a sort of courage
widely different from that which a man may display in his private conduct
and personal relations. Personal or private courage is totally distinct
from that higher and nobler courage which prompts the patriot to offer
himself a voluntary sacrifice to his country's good.
Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firmness sometimes impel us
to perform rash and inconsiderate acts. It is the greatest courage to be
able to bear the imputation of the want of courage. But pride, vanity,
egotism, so unaimiable and offensive in private life, are vices which
partake of the character of crimes in the conduct of public affairs. The
unfortunate victim of these passions cannot see beyond the little, petty,
contemptible circle of his own personal interest. All his thoughts are
withdrawn from his country, and concentrated on his consistency, his
firmness, himself.
The high, the exalted, the sublime emotions of a patriotism which, soaring
toward heaven, rises far above all mean, low, or selfish things, and is
absorbed by one soul-transporting thought of the good and glory of one's
country, are never felt in his impenetrable bosom. That patriotism which,
catching its inspiration from on high, and, leaving at an immeasurable
distance below all lesser, groveling, personal interests and
feelings,--animates and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of
devotion and of death itself,--that is public virtue; that is the noblest,
the sublimest of all public virtues.
H. Clay.
CXXX.
PLEA FOR THE UNION.
At a moment when the White House itself is in danger of conflagration,
instead of all hands uniting to extinguish the flames, we are contending
about who shall be its next occupant. When a dreadful crevasse has
occurred, which threatens inundation and destruction to all around it, we
are contesting and disputing about the profits of an estate which is
threatened with total submersion.
Mr. President, it is passion, passion--party, party, and intemperance--that
is all I dread in the adjustment of the great questions which unhappily at
this time divide our distracted country. Sir, at this moment we have in the
legislative bodies of this Capitol and in the States, twenty-odd furnaces
in full blast, emitting heat and passion, and intemperance, and diffusing
them throughout the whole extent of this broad land. Two months ago all was
calm in comparison to the present moment. All now is uproar, confusion, and
menace to the existence of the Union, and to the happiness and safety of
this people. Sir, I implore Senators, I entreat them, by all that they
expect hereafter, and by all that is dear to them here below, to repress
the ardor of these passions, to look to their country to its interests, to
listen to the voice of reason.