of the Union and war are identical and inseparable; that they are
convertible terms. Such a war, too, as that would be, following the
dissolution of the Union! Sir, we may search the pages of history, and none
so furious, so bloody, so implacable, so exterminating, from the wars of
Greece down, including those of the Commonwealth of England, and the
revolution of France--none, none of them raged with such violence, or was
ever conducted with such bloodshed and enormities, as will that war which
shall follow that disastrous event--if that event ever happen--the
dissolution of the Union.
And what would be its termination? Standing armies and navies, draining the
revenues of each portion of the dissevered empire, would be created;
exterminating war would follow-not a war of two or three years, but of
interminable duration until some Philip or Alexander, some Cæsar or
Napoleon, would rise to cut the Gordian Knot, and solve the problem of the
capacity of man for self-government, and crush the liberties of both the
dissevered portions of this Union. Can you, sir, lightly contemplate these
consequences? Can you yield yourself to a torrent of passion, amidst
dangers which I have depicted in colors far short of what would be the
reality, if the event should ever happen?
I implore gentlemen--I adjure them from the South or the North, by all they
hold dear in this world--by all their love of liberty, by all their
veneration for their ancestors--by all their regard for posterity--by all
their gratitude to Him who has bestowed upon them such unnumbered
blessings--by all the duties which they owe to mankind, and all the duties
they owe to themselves--by all these considerations, I implore upon them to
pause--solemnly to pause--at the edge of the precipice before the fearful
and disastrous leap is taken into the yawning abyss below, from which none
who take it will ever return in safety.
And, finally, Mr. President, I implore, as the best blessing which Heaven
can bestow upon me on earth, that if the direful and sad event of the
dissolution of the Union shall happen, I may not survive to behold the
melancholy and heart-rending spectacle.
H. Clay.
CXXXI.
NATIONAL GLORY.
We are asked, what have we gained by the war? I have shown that we have
lost nothing, either in rights, territory, or honor; nothing, for which we
ought to have contended, according to the principles of the gentlemen on
the other side, or according to our own. Have we gained nothing by the war?
Let any man look at the degraded condition of the country before the
war,--the scorn of the universe, the contempt of ourselves, and tell me if
we have gained nothing by the war. What is our present situation?
Respectability and character abroad; security and confidence at home. If we
have not obtained, in the opinion of some, the full measure of retribution,
our character and Constitution are placed on a solid basis, never to be
shaken.
The glory acquired by our gallant tars on the sea, by our Jacksons and our
Browns on the land is that nothing? true we had our vicissitudes: there are
humiliating events which the patriot cannot review without deep regret; but
the great account when it comes to be balanced, will be found vastly in our
favor. Is there a man who would obliterate from the proud pages of our
history, the brilliant achievements of Jackson, Brown, and Scott, and the
host of heroes on land and sea whom I cannot enumerate? Is there a man who
could not desire a participation in the national glory acquired by the war?
Yes, national glory, which, however the expression may be condemned by
some, must be cherished by every genuine patriot.
What do I mean by national glory? Glory such as Hull, Jackson, and Perry
have acquired. And are gentlemen insensible to their deeds, to the value of
them in animating the country in the hour of peril hereafter? Did the
battle of Thermopylæ preserve Greece but once? While the Mississippi
contributes to bear the tributes of the Iron Mountains and the Alleghenies
to her delta, and to the Gulf of Mexico, the eighth of January shall be
remembered, and the glory of that day shall stimulate future patriots, and
nerve the arms of unborn freemen, in driving the presumptuous invader from
our country's soil.
Gentlemen may boast of their insensibility to feelings inspired by the
contemplation of such events. But I would ask, does the recollection of
Bunker's Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown, afford no pleasure? Every act of
noble sacrifice of the country, every instance of patriotic devotion to her
cause, has its beneficial influence. A nation's character is the sum of its
splendid deeds; they constitute one common patrimony, the country's
inheritance. They awe foreign powers; they arouse and animate our own
people. I love true glory. It is this sentiment which ought to be
cherished; and, in spite of cavils, and sneers, and attempts to put it
down, it will rise triumphant, and finally conduct this nation to that
height, to which nature and nature's God have destined it.
H. Clay.
CXXXII.
BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CÆSAR.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for my cause; and be silent, that
you may hear. Believe me for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor,
that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses,
that you may be the better judge. If there be any in this assembly,--any
dear friend of Cæsar's--to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar was not
less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar,
this is my answer: Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more.
Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were
dead, to live all freemen? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was
fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but as he was
ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune,
honor for his valor, and death for his ambition.
Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I
offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak;
for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his
country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply,---
None? Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar than you
shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol;
his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced,
for which he suffered death.
Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had no hand in
his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the
commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart;--that, as I
slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself,
when it shall please my country to need my death.
Shakespeare.
CXXXIII.
HAMLET'S ADDRESS TO THE PLAYERS.
Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, grippingly on the
tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as life the
town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand,
thus; but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may
say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance,
that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear a
robtustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags,
to split the ears of the groundlings, we for the most part, are capable of
nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise: I would have such a fellow
whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod. I pray you, avoid it.
Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor: suit
the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special
observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature; for anything so
overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and
now, was, and is, to hold, as it were, the mirror up to nature; to show
virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of
the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off,
though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve;
the censure of which one, must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre
of others. O, there be players, that I have seen play,--and heard others
praise, and that highly,--not to speak it profanely, that, neither having
the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, have
so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen
had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Shakespeare.
CXXXIV.
FALSTAFF'S DESCRIPTION OF HIS SOLDIERS.
If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused
the king's press outrageously. I have got, in exchange of an hundred and
fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good
householders, yeoman's sons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as
have been asked twice on the banns; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had
as life hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a culverin
worse than a struck deer or a hurt wild duck. I pressed me none but such
toasts in butter, with hearts in their breasts no bigger than pins' heads;
and they bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of
slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs
licked his sores; discarded, unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger
brothers, revolted tapsters, and hostlers trade-fallen, the cankers of a
calm world and a long peace; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them
that have bought out their services, that you would think, that I had an
hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from
eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had
unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen
such scarecrows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat.
Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if--they had gyves
on; for, indeed I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a shirt
and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt it is two napkins tacked
together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without
sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host of St.
Albans, or the red-nosed innkeeper of Daintry. But that's all one; they'll
find linen enough on every hedge.
Shakespeare.
CXXXV.
SOLILOQUY ON CHARACTER.
As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I am boy to them
all three: but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be
man to me; for, indeed, three such antics do not amount to a man. For
Bardolph,--he is white-livered, and red-faced; by the means whereof 'a
faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol,--he hath a killing tongue, and a
quiet sword; by the means whereof 'a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons.
For Nym,--he hath heard, that men of a few words are the best men; and
therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a coward;
but his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds; for 'a never
broke any man's head but his own, and that was against a post, when he was
drunk. They will steal anything, and call it--purchase. Bardolph stole a
lute-case; bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nym
and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching; and in Calais they stole a
fire-shovel; I knew, by that piece of service, the men would carry coals.
They would have me as familiar with men's pockets, as their gloves or their
handkerchiefs; which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from
another's pocket, to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs.
I must leave them, and seek some better service: their villainy goes
against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up.
Shakespeare.
CXXXVI.
DEATH OF HAMILTON.
A short time since, and he who is the occasion of our sorrows, was the
ornament of his country. He stood on an eminence; and glory covered him.
From that eminence he has fallen--suddenly, forever, fallen. His
intercourse with the living world is now ended; and those who would
hereafter find him must seek him in the grave. There, cold and lifeless,
and the heart which just now was the seat of friendship. There, dim and
sightless is the eye, whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with
intelligence; and there, closed forever are those lips, on whose persuasive
accents we have so often and so lately hung with transport.
From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there proceeds, methinks, a
light in which it is clearly seen that those gaudy objects which men pursue
are only phantoms. In this light how dimly shines the splendor of
victory--how humble appears the majesty of grandeur. The bubble which
seemed to have so much solidity has burst; and we again see that all below
the sun is vanity.
True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced. The sad and solemn procession
has moved. The badge of mourning has already been decreed, and presently
the sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpetuate the name
of Hamilton, and rehearse to the passing traveller his virtues.
Just tributes of respect! And to the living useful. But to him, mouldering
in his narrow and humble habitation, what are they? How vain! how
unavailing! Approach, and behold--while I lift from his sepulchre its
covering. Ye admirers of his neatness, ye emulous of his talents and his
fame, approach, and behold him now. How pale! how silent! No martial bands
admire the adroitness of his movements. No fascinated throng weep--and
melt--and tremble at his eloquence!--Amazing change. A shroud! a coffin! a
narrow subterraneous cabin! This is all that now remains of Hamilton! And
is this all that remains of him?--During a life so transitory, what lasting
monument then can our fondest hopes erect?
My brethren! we stand on the borders of an awful gulf, which is swallowing
up all things human. And is there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing
stable, nothing abiding, notating immortal, on which poor, frail, dying
man can fasten?
Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you have been accustomed to
revere, and he will tell you. He will tell you, did I say? He has already
told you, from his death-bed, and his illumined spirit still whispers from
the heavens, with well-known eloquence, the solemn admonition.
"Mortals! hastening to the tomb, and once the companions of my pilgrimage,
take warning and avoid my errors--Cultivate the virtues I have
recommended--Choose the Saviour I have chosen--Live disinterestedly--Live
for immortality; and would you rescue anything from final dissolution,
lay it up in God."
Dr. Nott.
CXXXVII.
INVECTIVE AGAINST MR. FLOOD.
It is not the slander of an evil tongue that can defame me. I maintain my
reputation in public and in private life. No man who has not a bad
character can ever say that I deceived; no country can call me cheat. But I
will suppose such a public character. I will suppose such a man to have
existence. I will begin with his character in its political cradle, and I
will follow him to the last state of political dissolution. I will suppose
him, in the first stage of his life, to have been intemperate; in the
second, to have been corrupt; and in the last, seditious; that after an
envenomed attack upon the persons and measures of a succession of viceroys,
and after much declamation against their illegalities and their profusion,
he took office, and became a supporter of government when the profusion of
ministers had greatly increased, and their crimes multiplied beyond
example. At such a critical moment, I will suppose this gentleman to be
corrupted by a great sinecure office to muzzle his declamation, to swallow
his invective, to give his assent and vote to the ministers, and to become
a supporter of government, its measures, its embargo, and its American war.
I will suppose, that with respect to the Constitution of his country that
part, for instance, which regarded the Mutiny Bill, when a clause of
reference was introduced, whereby the articles of war, which were, or
hereafter might be, passed in England, should be current in Ireland without
the interference of Parliament--when such a clause was in view, I will
suppose this gentleman to have absconded. Again, when the bill was made
perpetual, I will suppose him again to have absconded; but a year and a
half after the bill had passed then I will suppose this gentleman to have
come forward, and to say that your Constitution had been destroyed by the
Perpetual Bill.
With respect to commerce, I will suppose this gentleman to have supported
an embargo which lay on the country for three years, and almost destroyed
it; and when an address in 1778, to open her trade, was propounded, to
remain silent and inactive. In relation to three fourths of our
fellow-subjects, the Catholics, when a bill was introduced to grant them
rights of property and religion, I will suppose this gentleman to have come
forth to give his negative to their pretensions.
With regard to the liberties of America, which were inseparable from ours,
I will suppose this gentleman to have been an enemy, decided and
unreserved; that he voted against her liberty, and voted, moreover, for an
address to send four thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the
Americans; that he called these butchers "armed negotiators," and stood
with a metaphor in his mouth, and a bribe in his pocket, a champion against
the rights of America, the only hope of Ireland, and the only refuge of the
liberties of mankind. Thus defective in every relationship, whether to
Constitution, commerce, or toleration, I will suppose this man to have
added much private improbity to public crimes; that his probity was like
his patriotism, and his honor on a level with his oath.
He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. I will interrupt him, and say,
"Sir, you are mistaken if you think that your talents have been as great as
your life has been reprehensible. You began your parliamentary career with
an acrimony and personality which could have been justified only by a
supposition of virtue. After a rank and clamorous opposition you became, on
a sudden, silent; you were silent for seven years; you were silent on the
greatest questions; and you were silent for money! You supported the
unparalleled profusion and jobbing of Lord Harcourt's scandalous
ministry--the address to support the American war--the other address to
send four thousand men, which you had yourself declared to be necessary for
the defence of Ireland, to fight against the liberties of America, to which
you had declared yourself a friend. You, sir, who manufacture stage-thunder
against Mr. Eden for his anti-American principles--you, sir, whom it
pleases to chant a hymn to the immortal Hampden--you, sir, approved of the
tyranny exercised against America; and you, sir, voted four thousand Irish
troops to cut the throats of the Americans fighting for their freedom,
fighting for your freedom, fighting for the great principle, Liberty! But
you found, at last (and this should be an eternal lesson to men of your
craft and cunning), that the King; had only dishonored you; the court had
bought, but would not trust you; and, having voted for the worst measures,
you remained, for seven years, the creature of salary, without the
conscience of government. Mortified at the discovery, and stung by
disappointment, you betake yourself to the sad expedients of duplicity. You
try the sorry game of a trimmer in your progress to the acts of an
incendiary. You give no honest support either to the government or the
people; observing, with regard to both prince and people, the most
impartial treachery and desertion, you justify the suspicion of your
Sovereign, by betraying the government, as you had sold the people, until,
at last, by this hollow conduct, and for some other steps, the result of
mortified ambition, being dismissed, and another person put in your place,
you fly to the ranks of the Volunteers and canvas, for mutiny.
"Such has been your conduct; and at such conduct every order of your
fellow-subjects have a right to exclaim! The merchant may say to you--the
constitutionality may say to you--the American may say to you--and I, I now
say, and say to your beard, sir,--'you are not an honest man!'"
H. Gratton.
CXXXVIII.
GRATTAN'S REPLY TO MR. CORRY.
Has the gentleman done? Has he completely done? He was unparliamentary from
the beginning to the end of his speech. There was scarce a word he uttered
that was not a violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call
him to order, why? because the limited talents of some men render it
impossible for them to be severe without being unparliamentary. But before
I sit down, I shall show him how to be severe and parliamentary at the same
time.
On any other occasion, I should think myself justifiable in treating with
silent contempt anything which might fall from that honorable member; but
there are times, when the insignificance of the accuser is lost in the
magnitude of the accusation. I know the difficulty the honorable gentleman
labored under when he attacked me, conscious that, on a comparative view of
our characters, public and private, there is nothing he could say which
would injure me. The public would not believe the charge. I despise the
falsehood. If such a charge were made by an honest man, I would answer it
in the manner I shall do before I sit down. But I shall first reply to it
when not made by an honest man.
The right honorable gentleman has called me "an unimpeached traitor." I ask
why not "traitor," unqualified by any epithet? I will tell him; it was
because he durst not. It was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to
strike, but has not courage to give the blow. I will not call him villain,
because it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy counsellor. I will
not call him fool, because he happens to be chancellor of the exchequer.
But I say he is one who has abused the privilege of Parliament, and the
freedom of debate, by uttering language, which, if spoken out of the House,
I should answer only with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how
low his character, how contemptible his speech; whether a privy counsellor
or a parasite, my answer would be a blow.
He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. The charge is
utterly, totally and meanly false. Does the honorable gentleman rely on the
report of the House of Lords for the foundation of his assertion? If he
does, I can prove to the committee there was a physical impossibility of
that report being true. But I scorn to answer any man for my conduct,
whether he be a political coxcomb, or whether he brought himself into power
by a false glare of courage or not.
I have returned, not as the right honorable member has said, to raise
another storm--I have returned to discharge an honorable debt of gratitude
to my country, that conferred a great reward for past services, which, I am
proud to say, was not greater than my desert. I have returned to protect
that Constitution, of which I was the parent and founder, from the
assassination of such men as the right honorable gentleman and his unworthy
associates. They are corrupt,--they are seditious,--and they, at this very
moment, are in a conspiracy against their country. I have returned to
refute a libel, as false as it is malicious, given to the public under the
appellation of a report of the committee of the Lords. Here I stand ready
for impeachment or trial. I dare accusation. I defy the honorable
gentleman; I defy the government; I defy their whole phalanx; let them come
forth. I tell the ministers, I will neither give quarter nor take it. I am
here to lay the shattered remains of my constitution on the floor of this
House, in defence of the liberties of my country.
CXXXIX.
SPEECH OF TITUS QUINCTIUS TO THE ROMANS.