This uncounted multitude before me and around me proves the feeling
which the occasion has excited. These thousands of human faces, glowing
with sympathy and joy, and from the impulses of a common gratitude
turned reverently to heaven in this spacious temple of the firmament,
proclaim that the day, the place, and the purpose of our assembling
have made a deep impression on our hearts.
If, indeed, there be anything in local association fit to affect the
mind of man, we need not strive to repress the emotions which agitate
us here. We are among the sepulchres of our fathers. We are on ground,
distinguished by their valor, their constancy, and the shedding of
their blood. We are here, not to fix an uncertain date in our annals,
nor to draw into notice an obscure and unknown spot. If our humble
purpose had never been conceived, if we ourselves had never been born,
the 17th of June, 1775, would have been a day on which all subsequent
history would have poured its light, and the eminence where we stand a
point of attraction to the eyes of successive generations. But we are
Americans. We live in what may be called the early age of this great
continent; and we know that our posterity, through all time, are here
to enjoy and suffer the allotments of humanity. We see before us a
probable train of great events; we know that our own fortunes have been
happily cast; and it is natural, therefore, that we should be moved by
the contemplation of occurrences which have guided our destiny before
many of us were born, and settled the condition in which we should pass
that portion of our existence which God allows to men on earth.
We do not read even of the discovery of this continent, without feeling
something of a personal interest in the event; without being reminded
how much it has affected our own fortunes and our own existence. It
would be still more unnatural for us, therefore, than for others, to
contemplate with unaffected minds that interesting, I may say that most
touching and pathetic scene, when the great discoverer of America stood
on the deck of his shattered bark, the shades of night falling on the
sea, yet no man sleeping; tossed on the billows of an unknown ocean,
yet the stronger billows of alternate hope and despair tossing his own
troubled thoughts; extending forward his harassed frame, straining
westward his anxious and eager eyes, till Heaven at last granted him a
moment of rapture and ecstasy, in blessing his vision with the sight of
the unknown world.
Nearer to our times, more closely connected with our fates, and
therefore still more interesting to our feelings and affections, is the
settlement of our own country by colonists from England. We cherish
every memorial of these worthy ancestors; we celebrate their patience
and fortitude; we admire their daring enterprise; we teach our children
to venerate their piety; and we are justly proud of being descended
from men who have set the world an example of founding civil
institutions on the great and united principles of human freedom and
human knowledge. To us, their children, the story of their labors and
sufferings can never be without its interest. We shall not stand
unmoved on the shore of Plymouth, while the sea continues to wash it;
nor will our brethren in another early and ancient Colony forget the
place of its first establishment, till their river shall cease to flow
by it. [1] No vigor of youth, no maturity of manhood, will lead the
nation to forget the spots where its infancy was cradled and defended.
But 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.
The Society whose organ I am [2] was formed for the purpose of rearing
some honorable and durable monument to the memory of the early friends
of American Independence. They have thought, that for this object no
time could be more propitious than the present prosperous and peaceful
period; that no place could claim preference over this memorable spot;
and that no day could be more auspicious to the undertaking than the
anniversary of the battle which was here fought. The foundation of that
monument we have now laid. With solemnities suited to the occasion,
with prayers to Almighty God for his blessing, and in the midst of this
cloud of witnesses, we have begun the work. We trust it will be
prosecuted, and that, springing from a broad foundation, rising high in
massive solidity and unadorned grandeur, it may remain as long as
Heaven permits the works of men to last, a fit emblem, both of the
events in memory of which it is raised, and of the gratitude of those
who have reared it.
We know, indeed, that the record of illustrious actions is most safely
deposited in the universal remembrance of mankind. We know, that if we
could cause this structure to ascend, not only till it reached the
skies, but till it pierced them, its broad surfaces could still contain
but part of that which, in an age of knowledge, hath already been
spread over the earth, and which history charges itself with making
known to all future times. We know that no inscription on entablatures
less broad than the earth itself can carry information of the events we
commemorate where it has not already gone; and that no structure, which
shall not outlive the duration of letters and knowledge among men, can
prolong the memorial. But our object is, by this edifice, to show our
own deep sense of the value and importance of the achievements of our
ancestors; and, by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to
keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a constant regard for the
principles of the Revolution. Human beings are composed, not of reason
only, but of imagination also, and sentiment; and that is neither
wasted nor misapplied which is appropriated to the purpose of giving
right direction to sentiments, and opening proper springs of feeling in
the heart. Let it not be supposed that our object is to perpetuate
national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It is
higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit of national
independence, and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it
forever. We rear a memorial of our conviction of that unmeasured
benefit which has been conferred on our own land, and of the happy
influences which have been produced, by the same events, on the general
interests of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot which must
forever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that whosoever, in all
coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may behold that the place is
not undistinguished where the first great battle of the Revolution was
fought. We wish that this structure may proclaim the magnitude and
importance of that event to every class and every age. We wish that
infancy may learn the purpose of its erection from maternal lips, and
that weary and withered age may behold it, and be solaced by the
recollections which it suggests. We wish that labor may look up here,
and be proud, in the midst of its toil. We wish that, in those days of
disaster, which, as they come upon all nations, must be expected to
come upon us also, desponding patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward,
and be assured that the foundations of our national power are still
strong. We wish that this column, rising towards heaven among the
pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also
to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude.
We wish, finally, that the last object to the sight of him who leaves
his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be
something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his
country. Let it rise! let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming;
let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger
and play on its summit.
We live in a most extraordinary age. Events so various and so important
that they might crowd and distinguish centuries are, in our times,
compressed within the compass of a single life. When has it happened
that history has had so much to record in the same term of years, as
since the 17th of June, 1775? Our own Revolution, which, under other
circumstances, might itself have been expected to occasion a war of
half a century, has been achieved; twenty-four sovereign and
independent States erected; and a general government established over
them, so safe, so wise, so free, so practical, that we might well
wonder its establishment should have been accomplished so soon, were it
not far the greater wonder that it should have been established at all.
Two or three millions of people have been augmented to twelve, [3] the
great forests of the West prostrated beneath the arm of successful
industry, and the dwellers on the banks of the Ohio and the Mississippi
become the fellow-citizens and neighbors of those who cultivate the
hills of New England. [4] We have a commerce, that leaves no sea
unexplored; navies, which take no law from superior force; revenues,
adequate to all the exigencies of government, almost without taxation;
and peace with all nations, founded on equal rights and mutual respect.
Europe, within the same period, has been agitated by a mighty
revolution, which, while it has been felt in the individual condition
and happiness of almost every man, has shaken to the centre her
political fabric, and dashed against one another thrones which had
stood tranquil for ages. On this, our continent, our own example has
been followed, and colonies have sprung up to be nations. Unaccustomed
sounds of liberty and free government have reached us from beyond the
track of the sun; and at this moment the dominion of European power in
this continent, from the place where we stand to the south pole, is
annihilated forever.
In the mean time, both in Europe and America, such has been the general
progress of knowledge, such the improvement in legislation, in
commerce, in the arts, in letters, and, above all, in liberal ideas and
the general spirit of the age, that the whole world seems changed.
Yet, notwithstanding that this is but a faint abstract of the things
which have happened since the day of the battle of Bunker Hill, we are
but fifty years removed from it; 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 might 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 strewed 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.[5] All is peace; and
God has granted you the 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! [6]
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 this broken band. You are gathered to your
fathers, and live only to your country 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"; [7]
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! [8]
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!
But the scene amidst which we stand does not permit us to confine our
thoughts or our sympathies to those fearless spirits who hazarded or
lost their lives on this consecrated spot. We have the happiness to
rejoice here in the presence of a most worthy representation of the
survivors of the whole Revolutionary army.
Veterans! you are the remnant of many a well-fought field. You bring
with you marks of honor from Trenton and Monmouth, from Yorktown,
Camden, Bennington, and Saratoga. VETERANS OF HALF A CENTURY! when in
your youthful days you put everything at hazard in your country's
cause, good as that cause was, and sanguine as youth is, still your
fondest hopes did not stretch onward to an hour like this! At a period
to which you could not reasonably have expected to arrive, at a moment
of national prosperity such as you could never have foreseen, you are
now met here to enjoy the fellowship of old soldiers, and to receive
the overflowings of a universal gratitude.
But your agitated countenances and your heaving breasts inform me that
even this is not an unmixed joy. I perceive that a tumult of contending
feeling rushes upon you. The images of the dead, as well as the persons
of the living, present themselves before you. The scene overwhelms you
and I turn from it. May the Father of all mercies smile upon your
declining years, and bless them! And when you shall here have exchanged
your embraces, when you shall once more have pressed the hands which
have been so often extended to give succor in adversity, or grasped in
the exultation of victory, then look abroad upon this lovely land which
your young valor defended, and mark the happiness with which it is
filled; yea, look abroad upon the whole earth, and see what a name you
have contributed to give to your country, and what a praise you have
added to freedom, and then rejoice in the sympathy and gratitude which
beam upon your last days from the improved condition of mankind!
The occasion does not require of me any particular account of the
battle of the 17th of June, 1775, nor any detailed narrative of the
events which immediately preceded it. These are familiarly known to
all. In the progress of the great and interesting controversy,
Massachusetts and the town of Boston had become early and marked
objects of the displeasure of the British Parliament. This had been
manifested in the act for altering the government of the Province, and
in that for shutting up the port of Boston. Nothing sheds more honor on
our early history, and nothing better shows how little the feelings and
sentiments of the Colonies were known or regarded in England, than the
impression which these measures everywhere produced in America. [9] It
had been anticipated, that, while the Colonies in general would be
terrified by the severity of the punishment inflicted on Massachusetts,
the other seaports would be governed by a mere spirit of gain; and
that, as Boston was now cut off from all commerce, the unexpected
advantage which this blow on her was calculated to confer on other
towns would be greedily enjoyed. How miserably such reasoners deceived
themselves! How little they knew of the depth, and the strength, and
the intenseness of that feeling of resistance to illegal acts of power,
which possessed the whole American people! Everywhere the unworthy boon
was rejected with scorn. The fortunate occasion was seized everywhere,
to show to the whole world that the Colonies were swayed by no local
interest, no partial interest, no selfish interest. The temptation to
profit by the punishment of Boston was strongest to our neighbors of
Salem. Yet Salem was precisely the place where this miserable proffer
was spurned, in a tone of the most lofty self-respect and the most
indignant patriotism. "We are deeply affected," said its inhabitants,
"with the sense of our public calamities; but the miseries that are now
rapidly hastening on our brethren in the capital of the Province
greatly excite our commiseration. By shutting up the port of Boston,
some imagine that the course of trade might be turned hither and to our
benefit; but we must be dead to every idea of justice, lost to all
feelings of humanity, could we indulge a thought to seize on wealth and
raise our fortunes on the ruin of our suffering neighbors." These noble
sentiments were not confined to our immediate vicinity. In that day of
general affection and brotherhood, the blow given to Boston smote on
every patriotic heart from one end of the country to the other.
Virginia and the Carolinas, as well as Connecticut and New Hampshire,
felt and proclaimed the cause to be their own. The Continental
Congress, then holding its first session in Philadelphia, expressed its
sympathy for the suffering inhabitants of Boston, and addresses were
received from all quarters, assuring them that the cause was a common
one, and should be met by common efforts and common sacrifices. The
Congress of Massachusetts responded to these assurances; and in an
address to the Congress at Philadelphia, bearing the official
signature, perhaps among the last, of the immortal Warren,
notwithstanding the severity of its suffering and the magnitude of the
dangers which threatened it, it was declared, that this Colony "is
ready, at all times, to spend and to be spent in the cause of America."
But the hour drew nigh which was to put professions to the proof, and
to determine whether the authors of these mutual pledges were ready to
seal them in blood. The tidings of Lexington and Concord had no sooner
spread, than it was universally felt that the time was at last come for
action. A spirit pervaded all ranks, not transient, not boisterous, but
deep, solemn, determined,
"totamque infusa per artus
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet." [10]
War, on their own soil and at their own doors, was, indeed, a strange
work to the yeomanry of New England; but their consciences were
convinced of its necessity, their country called them to it, and they
did not withhold themselves from the perilous trial. The ordinary
occupations of life were abandoned; the plough was staid in the
unfinished furrow; wives gave up their husbands, and mothers gave up
their sons, to the battles of a civil war. Death might come, in honor,
on the field; it might come, in disgrace, on the scaffold. For either
and for both they were prepared. The sentiment of Quincy was full in
their hearts. "Blandishments," said that distinguished son of genius
and patriotism, "will not fascinate us, nor will threats of a halter
intimidate; for, under God, we are determined that, wheresoever,
whensoever, or howsoever we shall be called to make our exit, we will
die free men."
The 17th of June saw the four New England Colonies standing here, side
by side, to triumph or to fall together; and there was with them from
that moment to the end of the war, what I hope will remain with them
forever: one cause, one country, one heart.
The battle of Bunker Hill was attended with the most important effects
beyond its immediate results as a military engagement. It created at
once a state of open, public war. There could now be no longer a
question of proceeding against individuals, as guilty of treason or
rebellion. That fearful crisis was past. The appeal lay to the sword,
and the only question was, whether the spirit and the resources of the
people would hold out, till the object should be accomplished. Nor were
its general consequences confined to our own country. The previous
proceedings of the Colonies, their appeals, resolutions, and addresses,
had made their cause known to Europe. Without boasting, we may say,
that in no age or country has the public cause been maintained with
more force of argument, more power of illustration, or more of that
persuasion which excited feeling and elevated principle can alone
bestow, than the Revolutionary state papers exhibit. These papers will
forever deserve to be studied, not only for the spirit which they
breathe, but for the ability with which they were written. [11]
To this able vindication of their cause, the Colonies had now added a
practical and severe proof of their own true devotion to it, and given
evidence also of the power which they could bring to its support. All
now saw, that if America fell, she would not fall without a struggle.
Men felt sympathy and regard, as well as surprise, when they beheld
these infant states, remote, unknown, unaided, encounter the power of
England, and, in the first considerable battle, leave more of their
enemies dead on the field, in proportion to the number of combatants,
than had been recently known to fall in the wars of Europe.
Information of these events, circulating throughout the world, at
length reached the ears of one who now hears me.[12]
He has not forgotten the emotion which the fame of Bunker Hill, and the
name of Warren, excited in his youthful breast.
Sir, we are assembled to commemorate the establishment of great public
principles of liberty, and to do honor to the distinguished dead. The
occasion is too severe for eulogy of the living. But, Sir, your
interesting relation to this country, the peculiar circumstances which
surround you and surround us, call on me to express the happiness which
we derive from your presence and aid in this solemn commemoration.
Fortunate, fortunate man! with what measure of devotion will you not
thank God for the circumstances of your extraordinary life! You are
connected with both hemispheres and with two generations. Heaven saw
fit to ordain, that the electric spark of liberty should be conducted,
through you, from the New World to the Old; and we, who are now here to
perform this duty of patriotism, have all of us long ago received it in
charge from our fathers to cherish your name and your virtues. You will
account it an instance of your good fortune, Sir, that you crossed the
seas to visit us at a time which enables you to be present at this
solemnity. You now behold the field, the renown of which reached you in
the heart of France, and caused a thrill in your ardent bosom. You see
the lines of the little redoubt thrown up by the incredible diligence
of Prescott; defended, to the last extremity, by his lion-hearted
valor; and within which the corner-stone of our monument has now taken
its position. You see where Warren fell, and where Parker, Gardner,
McCleary, Moore, and other early patriots, fell with him. Those who
survived that day, and whose lives have been prolonged to the present
hour, are now around you. Some of them you have known in the trying
scenes of the war. Behold! they now stretch forth their feeble arms to
embrace you. Behold! they raise their trembling voices to invoke the
blessing of God on you and yours forever!
Sir, you have assisted us in laying the foundation of this structure.
You have heard us rehearse, with our feeble commendation, the names of
departed patriots. Monuments and eulogy belong to the dead. We give
them this day to Warren and his associates. On other occasions they
have been given to your more immediate companions in arms, to
Washington, to Greene, to Gates, to Sullivan, and to Lincoln. We have
become reluctant to grant these, our highest and last honors, further.
We would gladly hold them yet back from the little remnant of that
immortal band. _Serus in coelum redeas_. Illustrious as are your
merits, yet far, O very far distant be the day, when any inscription
shall bear your name, or any tongue pronounce its eulogy!
The leading reflection to which this occasion seems to invite us,
respects the great changes which have happened in the fifty years since
the battle of Bunker Hill was fought. And it peculiarly marks the
character of the present age, that, in looking at these changes, and in
estimating their effect on our condition, we are obliged to consider,
not what has been done in our own country only, but in others also. In
these interesting times, while nations are making separate and
individual advances in improvement, they make, too, a common progress;
like vessels on a common tide, propelled by the gales at different
rates, according to their several structure and management, but all
moved forward by one mighty current, strong enough to bear onward
whatever does not sink beneath it.
A chief distinction of the present day is a community of opinions and
knowledge amongst men in different nations, existing in a degree
heretofore unknown. Knowledge has, in our time, triumphed, and is
triumphing, over distance, over difference of languages, over diversity
of habits, over prejudice, and over bigotry. The civilized and
Christian world is fast learning the great lesson, that difference of
nation does not imply necessary hostility, and that all contact need
not be war. The whole world is becoming a common field for intellect to
act in. Energy of mind, genius, power, wheresoever it exists, may speak
out in any tongue, and the _world_ will hear it. A great cord of
sentiment and feeling runs through two continents, and vibrates over
both. Every breeze wafts intelligence from country to country; every
wave rolls it; all give it forth, and all in turn receive it. There is
a vast commerce of ideas; there are marts and exchanges for
intellectual discoveries, and a wonderful fellowship of those
individual intelligences which make up the mind and opinion of the age.
Mind is the great lever of all things; human thought is the process by
which human ends are ultimately answered; and the diffusion of
knowledge, so astonishing in the last half-century, has rendered
innumerable minds, variously gifted by nature, competent to be
competitors or fellow-workers on the theatre of intellectual operation.
From these causes important improvements have taken place in the
personal condition of individuals. Generally speaking, mankind are not
only better fed and better clothed, but they are able also to enjoy
more leisure; they possess more refinement and more self-respect. A
superior tone of education, manners, and habits prevails. This remark,
most true in its application to our own country, is also partly true
when applied elsewhere. It is proved by the vastly augmented
consumption of those articles of manufacture and of commerce which
contribute to the comforts and the decencies of life; an augmentation
which has far outrun the progress of population. And while the
unexampled and almost incredible use of machinery would seem to supply
the place of labor, labor still finds its occupation and its reward; so
wisely has Providence adjusted men's wants and desires to their
condition and their capacity.
Any adequate survey, however, of the progress made during the last
half-century in the polite and the mechanic arts, in machinery and
manufactures, in commerce and agriculture, in letters and in science,
would require volumes. I must abstain wholly from these subjects, and
turn for a moment to the contemplation of what has been done on the
great question of politics and government. This is the master topic of
the age; and during the whole fifty years it has intensely occupied the
thoughts of men. The nature of civil government, its ends and uses,
have been canvassed and investigated; ancient opinions attacked and
defended; new ideas recommended and resisted, by whatever power the
mind of man could bring to the controversy. From the closet and the
public halls the debate has been transferred to the field; and the
world has been shaken by wars of unexampled magnitude, and the greatest
variety of fortune. A day of peace has at length succeeded; and now
that the strife has subsided, and the smoke cleared away, we may begin
to see what has actually been done, permanently changing the state and
condition of human society. And, without dwelling on particular
circumstances, it is most apparent, that, from the before-mentioned
causes of augmented knowledge and improved individual condition, a
real, substantial, and important change has taken place, and is taking
place, highly favorable, on the whole, to human liberty and human
happiness.
The great wheel of political revolution began to move in America. Here
its rotation was guarded, regular, and safe. Transferred to the other
continent, from unfortunate but natural causes, it received an
irregular and violent impulse; it whirled along with a fearful
celerity; till at length, like the chariot-wheels in the races of
antiquity, it took fire from the rapidity of its own motion, and blazed
onward, spreading conflagration and terror around.
We learn from the result of this experiment, how fortunate was our own
condition, and how admirably the character of our people was calculated
for setting the great example of popular governments. The possession of
power did not turn the heads of the American people, for they had long
been in the habit of exercising a great degree of self-control.
Although the paramount authority of the parent state existed over them,
yet a large field of legislation had always been open to our Colonial
assemblies. They were accustomed to representative bodies and the forms
of free government; they understood the doctrine of the division of
power among different branches, and the necessity of checks on each.
The character of our countrymen, moreover, was sober, moral, and
religious; and there was little in the change to shock their feelings
of justice and humanity, or even to disturb an honest prejudice. We had
no domestic throne to overturn, no privileged orders to cast down, no
violent changes of property to encounter. In the American Revolution,
no man sought or wished for more than to defend and enjoy his own. None
hoped for plunder or for spoil. Rapacity was unknown to it; the axe was
not among the instruments of its accomplishment; and we all know that
it could not have lived a single day under any well-founded imputation
of possessing a tendency adverse to the Christian religion.
It need not surprise us, that, under circumstances less auspicious,
political revolutions elsewhere, even when well intended, have
terminated differently. It is, indeed, a great achievement, it is the
master-work of the world, to establish governments entirely popular on
lasting foundations; nor is it easy, indeed, to introduce the popular
principle at all into governments to which it has been altogether a
stranger. It cannot be doubted, however, that Europe has come out of
the contest, in which she has been so long engaged, with greatly
superior knowledge, and, in many respects, in a highly improved
condition. Whatever benefit has been acquired is likely to be retained,
for it consists mainly in the acquisition of more enlightened ideas.
And although kingdoms and provinces may be wrested from the hands that
hold them, in the same manner they were obtained; although ordinary and
vulgar power may, in human affairs, be lost as it has been won; yet it
is the glorious prerogative of the empire of knowledge, that what it
gains it never loses. On the contrary, it increases by the multiple of
its own power; all its ends become means; all its attainments, helps to
new conquests. Its whole abundant harvest is but so much seed wheat,
and nothing has limited, and nothing can limit, the amount of ultimate
product.
Under the influence of this rapidly increasing knowledge, the people
have begun, in forms of government, to think and to reason, on affairs
of state. Regarding government as an institution for the public good,
they demand a knowledge of its operations, and a participation in its
exercise. A call for the representative system, wherever it is not
enjoyed, and where there is already intelligence enough to estimate its
value, is perseveringly made. Where men may speak out, they demand it;
where the bayonet is at their throats, they pray for it.
When Louis the Fourteenth said: "I am the state," he expressed the
essence of the doctrine of unlimited power. By the rules of that
system, the people are disconnected from the state; they are its
subjects; it is their lord. These ideas, founded in the love of power,
and long supported by the excess and the abuse of it, are yielding, in
our age, to other opinions; and the civilized world seems at last to be
proceeding to the conviction of that fundamental and manifest truth,
that the powers of government are but a trust, and that they cannot be
lawfully exercised but for the good of the community. As knowledge is
more and more extended, this conviction becomes more and more general.
Knowledge, in truth, is the great sun in the firmament. Life and power
are scattered with all its beams. The prayer of the Grecian champion,
when enveloped in unnatural clouds and darkness, is the appropriate
political supplication for the people of every country not yet blessed
with free institutions:--
"Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore,
Give me TO SEE,--and Ajax asks no more." [13]
We may hope that the glowing influence of enlightened sentiment will
promote the permanent peace of the world. Wars to maintain family
alliances, to uphold or to cast down dynasties, and to regulate
successions to thrones, which have occupied so much room in the history
of modern times, if not less likely to happen at all, will be less
likely to become general and involve many nations, as the great
principle shall be more and more established, that the interest of the
world is peace, and its first great statute, that every nation
possesses the power of establishing a government for itself. But public
opinion has attained also an influence over governments which do not
admit the popular principle into their organization. A necessary
respect for the judgment of the world operates, in some measure, as a
control over the most unlimited forms of authority. It is owing,
perhaps, to this truth, that the interesting struggle of the Greeks has
been suffered to go on so long, without a direct interference, either
to wrest that country from its present masters, or to execute the
system of pacification by force, and, with united strength, lay the
neck of Christian and civilized Greek at the foot of the barbarian
Turk. [14] Let us thank God that we live in an age when something has
influence besides the bayonet, and when the sternest authority does not
venture to encounter the scorching power of public reproach. Any
attempt of the kind I have mentioned should be met by one universal
burst of indignation; the air of the civilized world ought to be made
too warm to be comfortably breathed by any one who would hazard it.
It is, indeed, a touching reflection, that, while, in the fulness of
our country's happiness, we rear this monument to her honor, we look
for instruction in our undertaking to a country which is now in fearful
contest, not for works of art or memorials of glory, but for her own
existence. Let her be assured that she is not forgotten in the world;
that her efforts are applauded, and that constant prayers ascend for
her success. And let us cherish a confident hope for her final triumph.
If the true spark of religious and civil liberty be kindled, it will
burn. Human agency cannot extinguish it. Like the earth's central fire,
it may be smothered for a time; the ocean may overwhelm it; mountains
may press it down; but its inherent and unconquerable force will heave
both the ocean and the land, and at some time or other, in some place
or other, the volcano will break out and flame up to heaven.
Among the great events of the half-century, we must reckon, certainly,
the revolution of South America; and we are not likely to overrate the
importance of that revolution, either to the people of the country
itself or to the rest of the world. The late Spanish colonies, now
independent states, under circumstances less favorable, doubtless, than
attended our own revolution, have yet successfully commenced their
national existence. They have accomplished the great object of
establishing their independence; they are known and acknowledged in the
world; and although in regard to their systems of government, their
sentiments on religious toleration, and their provisions for public
instruction, they may have yet much to learn, it must be admitted that
they have risen to the condition of settled and established states more
rapidly than could have been reasonably anticipated. They already
furnish an exhilarating example of the difference between free
governments and despotic misrule. Their commerce, at this moment,
creates a new activity in all the great marts of the world. They show
themselves able, by an exchange of commodities, to bear a useful part
in the intercourse of nations.
A new spirit of enterprise and industry begins to prevail; all the
great interests of society receive a salutary impulse; and the progress
of information not only testifies to an improved condition, but itself
constitutes the highest and most essential improvement.
When the Battle of Bunker Hill was fought, the existence of South
America was scarcely felt in the civilized world. The thirteen little
Colonies of North America habitually called themselves the "Continent."
Borne down by colonial subjugation, monopoly, and bigotry, these vast
regions of the South were hardly visible above the horizon. But in our
day there has been, as it were, a new creation. The southern hemisphere
emerges from the sea. Its lofty mountains begin to lift themselves into
the light of heaven; its broad and fertile plains stretch out, in
beauty, to the eye of civilized man, and at the mighty bidding of the
voice of political liberty the waters of darkness retire.
And now, let us indulge an honest exultation in the conviction of the
benefit which the example of our country has produced, and is likely to
produce, on human freedom and human happiness. Let us endeavor to
comprehend in all its magnitude, and to feel in all its importance, the
part assigned to us in the great drama of human affairs. We are placed
at the head of the system of representative and popular governments.
Thus far our example shows that such governments are compatible, not
only with respectability and power, but with repose, with peace, with
security of personal rights, with good laws, and a just administration.
We are not propagandists. Wherever other systems are preferred, either
as being thought better in themselves, or as better suited to existing
condition, we leave the preference to be enjoyed. Our history hitherto
proves, however, that the popular form is practicable, and that with
wisdom and knowledge men may govern themselves; and the duty incumbent
on us is, to preserve the consistency of this cheering example, and
take care that nothing may weaken its authority with the world. If, in
our case, the representative system ultimately fail, popular
governments must be pronounced impossible. No combination of
circumstances more favorable to the experiment can ever be expected to
occur. The last hopes of mankind, therefore, rest with us; and if it
should be proclaimed, that our example had become an argument against
the experiment, the knell of popular liberty would be sounded
throughout the earth.
These are excitements to duty; but they are not suggestions of doubt.
Our history and our condition, all that is gone before us, and all that
surrounds us, authorize the belief, that popular governments, though
subject to occasional variations, in form perhaps not always for the
better, may yet, in their general character, be as durable and
permanent as other systems. We know, indeed, that in our country any
other is impossible. The _principle_ of free governments adheres to the
American soil. It is bedded in it, immovable as its mountains.
And let the sacred obligations which have devolved on this generation,
and on us, sink deep into our hearts. Those who established our liberty
and our government are daily dropping from among us. The great trust
now descends to new hands. Let us apply ourselves to that which is
presented to us, as our appropriate object. We can win no laurels in a
war for independence. Earlier and worthier hands have gathered them
all. Nor are there places for us by the side of Solon, and Alfred, and
other founders of states. Our fathers have filled them. But there
remains to us a great duty of defence and preservation; and there is
opened to us, also, a noble pursuit, to which the spirit of the times
strongly invites us. Our proper business is improvement. Let our age be
the age of improvement. In a day of peace, let us advance the arts of
peace and the works of peace. Let us develop the resources of our land,
call forth its powers, build up its institutions, promote all its great
interests, and see whether we also, in our day and generation, may not
perform something worthy to be remembered. Let us cultivate a true
spirit of union and harmony. In pursuing the great objects which our
condition points out to us, let us act under a settled conviction, and
an habitual feeling, that these twenty-four States are one country. Let
our conceptions be enlarged to the circle of our duties. Let us extend
our ideas over the whole of the vast field in which we are called to
act. Let our object be, OUR COUNTRY, OUR WHOLE COUNTRY, AND NOTHING BUT
OUR COUNTRY. And, by the blessing of God, may that country itself
become a vast and splendid monument, not of oppression and terror, but
of Wisdom, of Peace, and of Liberty, upon which the world may gaze with
admiration forever!
The Reply to Hayne.
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
on the waves of this debate, 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 before the Senate. [1]