Having had occasion, Mr. President, to speak of nullification and the
nullifiers, I beg leave to say that I have not done so for any purpose
of reproach. Certainly, Sir, I see no possible connection, myself,
between their principles or opinions, and the support of this
measure.[1] They, however, must speak for themselves. They may have
intrusted the bearing of their standard, for aught I know, to the hands
of the honorable member from South Carolina; and I perceived last
session what I perceive now, that in his opinion there is a connection
between these projects of government and the doctrines of nullification.
I can only say, Sir, that it will be marvellous to me, if that banner,
though it be said to be tattered and torn, shall yet be lowered in
obeisance, and laid at the footstool of executive power. To the
sustaining of that power, the passage of this bill is of the utmost
importance. The administration will regard its success as being to them,
what Cromwell said the battle of Worcester was to him, "a crowning
mercy." Whether gentlemen, who have distinguished themselves so much by
their extreme jealousy of this government, shall now find it consistent
with their principles to give their aid in effecting this consummation,
remains to be seen.
The next exposition of the honorable gentleman's sentiments and opinions
is in his letter of the 3d of November.
This letter, Sir, is a curiosity. As a paper describing political
operations, and exhibiting political opinions, it is without a parallel.
Its phrase is altogether military. It reads like a despatch, or a
bulletin from head-quarters. It is full of attacks, assaults, and
repulses. It recounts movements and counter-movements; speaks of
occupying one position, falling back upon another, and advancing to a
third; it has positions to cover enemies, and positions to hold allies
in check. Meantime, the celerity of all these operations reminds one of
the rapidity of the military actions of the king of Prussia, in the
Seven Years' war. Yesterday, he was in the South, giving battle to the
Austrian; to-day he is in Saxony, or Silesia. Instantly he is found to
have traversed the Electorate, and is facing the Russian and the Swede
on his northern frontier. If you look for his place on the map, before
you find it he has quitted it. He is always marching, flying, falling
back, wheeling, attacking, defending, surprising; fighting everywhere,
and fighting all the time. In one particular, however, the campaigns
described in this letter are conducted in a different manner from those
of the great Frederick. I think we nowhere read, in the narrative of
Frederick's achievements, of his taking a position to cover an enemy, or
a position to hold an ally in check. These refinements in the science of
tactics and of war are of more recent discovery.
Mr. President, public men must certainly be allowed to change their
opinions, and their associations, whenever they see fit. No one doubts
this. Men may have grown wiser; they may have attained to better and
more correct views of great public subjects. It would be unfortunate, if
there were any code which should oblige men, in public or private life,
to adhere to opinions once entertained, in spite of experience and
better knowledge, and against their own convictions of their erroneous
character. Nevertheless, Sir, it must be acknowledged, that what appears
to be a sudden, as well as a great change, naturally produces a shock. I
confess that, for one, I was shocked when the honorable gentleman, at
the last session, espoused this bill of the administration. And when I
first read this letter of November, and, in the short space of a column
and a half, ran through such a succession of political movements, all
terminating in placing the honorable member in the ranks of our
opponents, and entitling him to take his seat, as he has done, among
them, if not at their head, I confess I felt still greater surprise. All
this seemed a good deal too abrupt. Sudden movements of the affections,
whether personal or political, are a little out of nature.
Several years ago, Sir, some of the wits of England wrote a mock play,
intended to ridicule the unnatural and false feeling, the
_sentimentality_ of a certain German school of literature. In this play,
two strangers are brought together at an inn. While they are warming
themselves at the fire, and before their acquaintance is yet five
minutes old, one springs up and exclaims to the other, "A sudden thought
strikes me! Let us swear an eternal friendship!" This affectionate offer
was instantly accepted, and the friendship duly sworn, unchangeable and
eternal! Now, Sir, how long this eternal friendship lasted, or in what
manner it ended, those who wish to know may learn by referring to the
play.
But it seerns to me, Sir, that the honorable member has carried his
political sentimentality a good deal higher than the flight of the
German school: for he appears to have fallen suddenly in love, not with
strangers, but with opponents. Here we all had been, Sir, contending
against the progress of executive power, and more particularly, and most
strenuously, against the projects and experiments of the administration
upon the currency. The honorable member stood among us, not only as an
associate, but as a leader. We thought we were making some headway. The
people appeared to be coming to our support and our assistance. The
country had been roused, every successive election weakening the
strength of the adversary, and increasing our own. We were in this
career of success carried strongly forward by the current of public
opinion, and only needed to hear the cheering voice of the honorable
member,
"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!"
and we should have prostrated for ever this anti-constitutional,
anti-commercial, anti-republican, and anti-American policy of the
administration. But instead of these encouraging and animating accents,
behold! in the very crisis of our affairs, on the very eve of victory,
the honorable member cries out to the enemy,--not to us, his allies, but
to the enemy: "Hollo! A sudden thought strikes me! I abandon my allies!
Now I think of it, they have always been my oppressors! I abandon them,
and now let _you and me_ swear an eternal friendship!" Such a
proposition, from such a quarter, Sir, was not likely to be long
withstood. The other party was a little coy, but, upon the whole,
nothing loath. After proper hesitation, and a little decorous blushing,
it owned the soft impeachment, admitted an equally sudden sympathetic
impulse on its own side; and, since few words are wanted where hearts
are already known, the honorable gentleman takes his place among his new
friends amidst greetings and caresses, and is already enjoying the
sweets of an eternal friendship.
In this letter, Mr. President, the writer says, in substance, that he
saw, at the commencement of the last session, that affairs had reached
the point when he and his friends, according to the course they should
take, would reap the full harvest of their long and arduous struggle
against the encroachments and abuses of the general government, or lose
the fruits of all their labors. At that time, he says, State
interposition (viz. Nullification) had overthrown the protective tariff
and the American system, and put a stop to Congressional usurpation;
that he had previously been united with the National Republicans; but
that, in joining such allies, he was not insensible to the embarrassment
of his position; that with them victory itself was dangerous, and that
therefore he had been waiting for events; that now (that is to say, in
September last) the joint attacks of the allies had brought down
executive power; that the administration had become divested of power
and influence, and that it was now clear that the combined attacks of
the allied forces would utterly overthrow and demolish it. All this he
saw. But he saw, too, as he says, that in that case the victory would
inure, not to him or his cause, but to his allies and their cause. I do
not mean to say that he spoke of personal victories, or alluded to
personal objects, at all. He spoke of his cause.
He proceeds to say, then, that never was there before, and never,
probably, will there be again, so fair an opportunity for himself and
his friends to carry out _their own principles and policy_, and to reap
the fruits of their long and arduous struggle. These principles and this
policy, Sir, be it remembered, he represents, all along, as identified
with the principles and policy of nullification. And he makes use of
this glorious opportunity by refusing to join his late allies in any
further attack on those in power, and rallying anew the old State-rights
party to hold in check their old opponents, the National Republican
party. This, he says, would enable him to prevent the complete
ascendency of his allies, and to compel the Southern division of the
administration party to occupy the ground of which he proposes to take
possession, to wit, the ground of the old State-rights party. They will
have, he says, no other alternative.
Mr. President, stripped of its military language, what is the amount of
all this, but that, finding the administration weak, and likely to be
overthrown, if the opposition continued with undiminished force, he went
over to it, he joined it; intending to act, himself, upon nullification
principles, and to compel the Southern members of the administration to
meet him on those principles?--in other words, to make a nullification
administration, and to take such part in it as should belong to him and
his friends. He confesses, Sir, that in thus abandoning his allies, and
taking a position to cover those in power, he perceived a shock would be
created which would require some degree of resolution and firmness. In
this he was right. A shock, Sir, has been created; yet there he is.
This administration, Sir, is represented as succeeding to the last, by
an inheritance of principle. It professes to tread in the footsteps of
its illustrious predecessor. It adopts, generally, the sentiments,
principles, and opinions of General Jackson, _proclamation and all_; and
yet, though he be the very prince of nullifiers, and but lately regarded
as the chiefest of sinners, it receives the honorable gentleman with the
utmost complacency. To all appearance, the delight is mutual; they find
him an able leader, he finds them complying followers. But, Sir, in all
this movement he understands himself. He means to go ahead, and to take
them along. He is in the engine-car; he controls the locomotive. His
hand regulates the steam, to increase or retard the speed at his
discretion. And as to the occupants of the passenger-cars, Sir, they are
as happy a set of gentlemen as one might desire to see of a summer's
day. They feel that they are in progress; they hope they shall not be
run off the track; and when they reach the end of their journey, they
desire to be thankful!
The arduous struggle is now all over. Its richest fruits are all
reaped; nullification embraces the sub-treasuries, and oppression and
usurpation will be heard of no more.
On the broad surface of the country, Sir, there is a spot called "the
Hermitage." In that residence is an occupant very well known, and not a
little remarkable both in person and character. Suppose, Sir, the
occupant of the Hermitage were now to open that door, enter the Senate,
walk forward, and look over the chamber to the seats on the other side.
Be not frightened, gentlemen; it is but fancy's sketch. Suppose he
should thus come in among us, Sir, and see into whose hands has fallen
the chief support of that administration, which was, in so great a
degree, appointed by himself, and which he fondly relied on to maintain
the principles of his own. If gentlemen were now to see his steady
military step, his erect posture, his compressed lips, his
firmly-knitted brow, and his eye full of fire, I cannot help thinking,
Sir, they would all feel somewhat queer. There would be, I imagine, not
a little awkward moving and shifting in their seats. They would expect
soon to hear the roar of the lion, even if they did not feel his paw.
Sir, the spirit of union is particularly liable to temptation and
seduction in moments of peace and prosperity. In war, this spirit is
strengthened by a sense of common danger, and by a thousand
recollections of ancient efforts and ancient glory in a common cause.
But in the calms of a long peace, and in the absence of all apparent
causes of alarm, things near gain an ascendency over things remote.
Local interests and feelings overshadow national sentiments. Our
attention, our regard, and our attachment are every moment solicited to
what touches us closest, and we feel less and less the attraction of a
distant orb. Such tendencies we are bound by true patriotism and by our
love of union to resist. This is our duty; and the moment, in my
judgment, has arrived when that duty should be performed. We hear, every
day, sentiments and arguments which would become a meeting of envoys,
employed by separate governments, more than they become the common
legislature of a united country. Constant appeals are made to local
interests, to geographical distinctions, and to the policy and the pride
of particular States. It would sometimes appear as if it were a settled
purpose to convince the people that our Union is nothing but a jumble of
different and discordant interests, which must, erelong, be all resolved
into their original state of separate existence; as if, therefore, it
was of no great value while it should last, and was not likely to last
long. The process of disintegration begins by urging as a fact the
existence of different interests.
Sir, is not the end to which all this leads us obvious? Who does not see
that, if convictions of this kind take possession of the public mind,
our Union can hereafter be nothing, while it remains, but a connection
without harmony; a bond without affection; a theatre for the angry
contests of local feelings, local objects, and local jealousies? Even
while it continues to exist in name, it may by these means become
nothing but the mere form of a united government. My children, and the
children of those who sit around me, may meet, perhaps, in this chamber,
in the next generation; but if tendencies now but too obvious be not
checked, they will meet as strangers and aliens. They will feel no sense
of common interest or common country; they will cherish no common object
of patriotic love. If the same Saxon language shall fall from their
lips, it may be the chief proof that they belong to the same nation. Its
vital principle exhausted and gone, its power of doing good terminated,
the Union itself, become productive only of strife and contention, must
ultimately fall, dishonored and unlamented.
The honorable member from Carolina himself habitually indulges in
charges of usurpation and oppression against the government of his
country. He daily denounces its important measures, in the language in
which our Revolutionary fathers spoke of the oppressions of the mother
country. Not merely against executive usurpation, either real or
supposed, does he utter these sentiments, but against laws of Congress,
laws passed by large majorities, laws sanctioned for a course of years
by the people. These laws he proclaims, every hour, to be but a series
of acts of oppression. He speaks of them as if it were an admitted fact,
that such is their true character. This is the language he utters, these
are the sentiments he expresses, to the rising generation around him.
Are they sentiments and language which are likely to inspire our
children with the love of union, to enlarge their patriotism, or to
teach them, and to make them feel, that their destiny has made them
common citizens of one great and glorious republic? 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 thus 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 or
local feeling, no temporary impulse, shall induce me to yield my
foothold on the Constitution of 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 every thing in regard to which the Constitution has
decreed their union; united in war, for the common defence, 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.
[Footnote 1: The Sub-Treasury.]