THE BEGINNING OF A GREAT BATTLE.
When Andrew Jackson became President Mr. Webster found himself an
anti-administration leader. He was respected and feared, and a plan was
formed to break him down and overwhelm him in debate. The champion who
was supposed equal to this task was Col. Hayne, of South Carolina, a
graceful and forcible speaker, backed by the party in power and by the
silent influence of John C. Calhoun, who, as Vice-President, presided
over the councils of the Senate.
On the 29th day of December, 1829, an apparently innocent resolution
was offered by Mr. Foote, of Connecticut, in the following terms:
“_Resolved_, That the Committee on Public Lands be instructed to
inquire into the expediency of limiting for a certain period the sales
of the public lands to such lands only as have been heretofore offered
for sale and are subject to entry at the minimum price; also, whether
the office of Surveyor-General may not be abolished without detriment
to the public interest.”
This resolution called forth the celebrated debate in which Mr. Webster
demolished the eloquent champion of the South in a speech which will
live as long as American history.
Mr. Benton, of Missouri, in an elaborate speech furnished the keynote
of the campaign. On Monday, the 18th, he made a speech in which a
violent attack was made upon New England, its institutions and its
representatives. He was followed by Col. Hayne, who elaborated the
comparison drawn between the so-called illiberal policy of New England
and the generous policy of the South towards the growing West. He
charged the East with a spirit of jealousy and an unwillingness that
the West should be rapidly settled, taking the resolution of the
senator of Connecticut as his text.
This attack excited surprise, not only by its violence and injustice,
but by its suddenness. Mr. Webster shared in the general surprise.
It was not long before he was led to suspect that he was aimed at as
a well-known defender of New England. At any rate, he rose to reply,
but a motion for adjournment cut him off, and he was obliged to wait
for the next day before he could have the opportunity. The speech he
then made, though not his great speech, was able and deserves notice.
He disproved in the clearest manner the charges which had been made
against New England, and showed that her policy had been the direct
reverse. He dwelt especially upon the part which the Eastern States
had in settling the great State of Ohio, which even then contained a
population of a million. Upon this point he spoke as follows:
“And here, sir, at the epoch of 1794, let us pause and survey the
scene. It is now thirty-five years since that scene actually existed.
Let us, sir, look back and behold it. Over all that is now Ohio there
then stretched one vast wilderness, unbroken, except by two small spots
of civilized culture, the one at Marietta, the other at Cincinnati.
At these little openings, hardly a pin’s point upon the map, the arm
of the frontiersman had leveled the forest and let in the sun. These
little patches of earth, themselves almost shadowed by the overhanging
boughs of the wilderness, which had stood and perpetuated itself from
century to century ever since the Creation, were all that had been
rendered verdant by the hand of man. In an extent of hundreds and
thousands of square miles no other surface of smiling green attested
the presence of civilization. The hunter’s path crossed mighty rivers
flowing in solitary grandeur, whose sources lay in remote and unknown
regions of the wilderness. It struck, upon the north, on a vast inland
sea, over which the wintry tempest raged as upon the ocean; all around
was bare creation.
“It was a fresh, untouched, unbounded, magnificent wilderness. And,
sir, what is it now? Is it imagination only, or can it possibly be
fact, that presents such a change as surprises and astonishes us when
we turn our eyes to what Ohio now is? Is it reality or a dream that in
so short a period as even thirty-five years there has sprung up on the
same surface an independent State, with a million of people? A million
of inhabitants! An amount of population greater than all the cantons of
Switzerland; equal to one third of all the people of the United States
when they undertook to accomplish their independence! If, sir, we may
judge of measures by their results, what lessons do these facts read us
on the policy of the government? What inferences do they not authorize
upon the general question of kindness or unkindness? What convictions
do they enforce as to the wisdom and ability, on the one hand, or
the folly and incapacity on the other, of our general management of
Western affairs? For my own part, while I am struck with wonder at the
success, I also look with admiration at the wisdom and foresight which
originally arranged and prescribed the system for the settlement of the
public domain.”
Mr. Webster said in conclusion: “The Senate will bear me witness that
I am not accustomed to allude to local opinions, nor to compare, nor
to contrast, different portions of the country. I have often suffered
things to pass, which I might properly enough have considered as
deserving a remark, without any observation. But I have felt it my duty
on this occasion to vindicate the State which I represent from charges
and imputations on her public character and conduct which I know to be
undeserved and unfounded. If advanced elsewhere, they might be passed,
perhaps, without notice. But whatever is said here is supposed to be
entitled to public regard and to deserve public attention; it derives
importance and dignity from the place where it is uttered. As a true
representative of the State which has sent me here it is my duty, and a
duty which I shall fulfill, to place her history and her conduct, her
honor and her character, in their just and proper light.
“While I stand here as representative of Massachusetts, I will be her
true representative, and, by the blessing of God, I will vindicate her
character, motives and history from every imputation coming from a
respectable source.”
This was the first reply of Webster to Hayne, and it was able and
convincing. But Col. Hayne and his friends had no intention of
leaving the matter there. The next day the consideration of the bill
was renewed. Mr. Webster’s friends wished to have the discussion
postponed as he had an important case pending in the Supreme Court.
Mr. Hayne objected, saying in a theatrical tone, “that he saw the
senator from Massachusetts in his seat, and presumed he could make an
arrangement that would enable him to be present during the discussion.
He was unwilling that the subject should be postponed until he had an
opportunity of replying to some of the observations which had fallen
from the gentleman yesterday. He would not deny that some things had
fallen from the gentleman which rankled here [touching his breast],
from which he would desire at once to relieve himself. The gentleman
had discharged his fire in the face of the Senate. He hoped he would
now afford him the opportunity of returning the shot.”
“Then it was,” as a Southern member of Congress afterwards expressed
it, “that Mr. Webster’s person seemed to become taller and larger.
His chest expanded and his eyeballs dilated. Folding his arms in a
composed, firm and most expressive manner, he exclaimed: ‘Let the
discussion proceed. I am ready. I am ready _now_ to receive the
gentleman’s fire.’”
Col. Hayne’s speech was the great effort of his life. He was a ready,
accomplished and forcible speaker, and he vainly thought himself a
match for the great senator from Massachusetts whose power he was yet
to understand. He spoke as one who was confident of victory, with a
self-confidence, a swagger, a violence of invective, which increased as
he went on. He was encouraged by the evident delight of his friends,
including the Vice-President. He did not finish his speech the first
day, but closed with a hint of what he intended to do.
“Sir,” he said, “the gentleman from Massachusetts has thought proper,
for purposes best known to himself, to strike the South through me,
the most unworthy of her servants. He has crossed the border, he has
invaded the State of South Carolina, is making war upon her citizens,
and endeavoring to overthrow her principles and institutions. Sir,
when the gentleman provokes me to such a conflict, I meet him at the
threshold, I will struggle while I have life for our altars and our
firesides, and if God gives me strength I will drive back the invader
discomfited. Nor shall I stop there. If the gentleman provokes war he
shall have war. Sir, I will not stop at the border; I will carry the
war into the enemy’s territory, and not consent to lay down my arms
until I shall have obtained ‘indemnity for the past and security for
the future.’ It is with unfeigned reluctance that I enter upon the
performance of this part of my duty. I shrink, almost instinctively,
from a course, however necessary, which may have a tendency to excite
sectional feelings and sectional jealousies. But, sir, the task has
been forced upon me, and I proceed right onward to the performance
of my duty, be the consequences what they may; the responsibility is
with those who have imposed upon me the necessity. The senator from
Massachusetts has thought proper to cast the first stone, and, if he
shall find, according to a homely adage, that ‘he lives in a glass
house,’ on his head be the consequences.”
Brave words these! But brave words do not necessarily win the victory,
and Col. Hayne little knew what a foe he was challenging to combat.