On all great national questions of policy, time, reflection, prudence and caution seem to be required by the dictates of patriotism and true wisdom. And our legislators, and indeed all our wise men, should always remember, and be sure never to forget, that we Americans are a very exciteable people, more so, much more so, than many nations are in the north of Europe. Our southern people may be the soonest moved by any sudden impulse, but get our northern people once fairly started, and they move like a tornado. Knowing ourselves, and how exciteable we are, let us endeavor to keep cool, on all the political questions, which agitate the public mind, from time to time. Our republican institutions have been dearly bought—with the blood of our ancestors, freely shed, in the battle fields of glorious memory, and on the mountain waves, where our sailors fought, bled, died and conquered in the cause, the holy cause of liberty.—When the liberties of this country go down to their graves, have we not reason to fear that free government all over the world, will be overwhelmed in one universal ruin? May my eyes be closed in death before that day arrives.
Having decided that the tariff case shall be put down to the foot of our docket, on the principle of want of more time for national reflection, it follows as a matter of course, almost, that we ought to put the Oregon question at the foot of our docket also, and continue it for a trial at the next term of our high court of judicature. Whether the Texas case shall be disposed of in the same manner, we will not decide, until we have ascended to our seat on the bench, and there patiently heard the arguments of counsel learned in the law, on the motion for a continuance of the cause until the next session of this honorable court.
The idea that the American people are to be taken by surprise, and that six large States ought to be added to this confederacy by legerdemain, without notice and without sufficient time for reflection on all the consequences of such an addition to our territory, calls for deliberation, reflection and a solemn pause, like the stillness of a Quaker’s silent meeting, before we decide this question—especially in the affirmitive. Let us hear it discussed openly in the Senate, and in all places of public resort.
Our right to Oregon, up to the fifty-fifth degree of north latitude, is quite clear and our people will occupy that territory forthwith, and then Congress will limp along after them, carrying our laws to them. In the mean time, villages, towns and cities will rear their spires along the rivers, the stage driver’s horn and the steam boat’s bell will be heard there. The sound of the axe, the hammer and the saw, will rival in speed the roaring of the waters rushing over mill dams, or dashing against the rocks in the streams of Oregon. All these things will soon be heard and seen there, but we can wait a little time yet, until the nation is ready to rush in one mass of men, to wash their feet in the waters of the Pacific, as they roll their briny waves on to our great western boundary. As Mr. Owen said, in the house, “the Pacific is our destination and our destiny.”
Lay the question over, gentlemen, till next session of Congress. The prancing steed and the nodding plume shall be seen there and the star spangled banner shall wave, and rustle in every breeze that moves over the prairies, the hills and the plains of our own farthest West. A rail-road from Astoria to Boston can transport the salmon of the Multnomah to our farthest East. Between the salmon of Penobscot and those of the Columbia river, let the Bostonians decide which is preferable. We will wait, sitting with gravity in a wig and gown in our court, until the Bostonians are called into it, to give their testimony on a point of so much delicacy, in a matter of taste, too, about which old Horace has said there is no disputing.—“De gustibus non disputandum.”
CHAPTER VII.
Visit to Mr. Calhoun, Secretary of State.—Alexandria, its early history.—Reminisences of General Washington.—Memoir of Mr. Anthony Charles Cazenove; a most interesting tale.—He was the old partner of Albert Gallatin, at New Geneva, Pennsylvania.
On the fifth day of April, I went early in the morning to see Mr. Calhoun, the new Secretary of State. I found him already in his office, attending to his official duties. It was long before office hours, and I had a long conversation with him. He received me most cordially and entertained me most agreeably for an hour or two. When it was announced to him that Mr. Chilton, a member of Congress, had called to see him, I retired to call on Mrs. Murphy, of Ohio, and her son, who were putting up near the Secretary’s office. After spending an hour or two with them, I called again at the Secretary’s office, but found him engaged with the Texan ministers, Mr. Henderson and Mr. Van Zandt. The messenger brought me a slip of paper with Mr. Calhoun’s place of residence written on it, “at Mrs. King’s, between 13th and 14th streets, on F st.” I went thither, and waited not long but until Mr. Calhoun and his son had arrived and dined. The Secretary came into the parlour where I was sitting, and we conversed together several hours, until General Anderson of Tennessee came, when I took my leave of Mr. Calhoun. During these interviews I had in my mind two regrets: first, that I had never before in my lifetime had an opportunity to converse with him so freely on a great variety of matters, deeply interesting to the people of these United States; and secondly, that my first was to be my last opportunity of conversing with Mr. Calhoun.