Ay, more; instead of instant lightnings, smiting and blasting in their fiery crash, which an indignant patriotism would have hurled, he nodded sympathy and acquiescence. No page of history is more melancholy, because nowhere do we find a ruler who so completely abandoned his country: not Charles the First in his tyranny, not Louis the Sixteenth in his weakness. Mr. Buchanan was advanced to power by Slave-Masters, who knew well that he could be used for Slavery. The Slaveholding conspirators were encouraged to sit in his Cabinet, where they doubly betrayed their country, first by evil counsels, and then by disclosing what passed to distant Slaveholding confederates. The sudden act of Major Anderson, in removing from Fort Moultrie to Fort Sumter, and the sympathetic response of an aroused people, compelled a change of policy, and the Rebellion received its first check. After painful struggle, it was decided at last that Fort Sumter should be maintained. It is difficult to exaggerate the importance of that decision, which, I believe, was due mainly to an eminent Democrat,—General Cass. This, at least, is true: it saved the national capital.
Meanwhile the conspiracy increased in activity, mastering State after State, gathering its forces and building its batteries. The time had come for the tragedy to begin. “At Nottingham,” says the great English historian, speaking of King Charles the First, “he erected his royal standard, the open signal of discord and civil war throughout the kingdom.”[215] The same open signal now came from Charleston, when the conspirators ran up the Rattle-Snake flag, and directed their wicked cannonade upon the small, half-famished garrison of Sumter.
Were this done in the name of Revolution, or by virtue of any revolutionary principle, it would assume a familiar character. But such is not the case. It is all done under pretence of constitutional right. The forms of the Constitution are seized by the conspirators, as they have already seized everything else, and wrested to the purposes of treason. It is audaciously declared, that, under the existing Constitution, each State, in the exercise of its own discretion, may withdraw from the Union; and this asserted right of secession is invoked as cover for Rebellion begun in conspiracy. The election of Mr. Lincoln is made the occasion for the exercise of this pretended right; certain opinions at the North on the subject of Slavery are made the pretext.
Who will not deny that this election can be a just occasion?
Who will not condemn the pretext?
But both occasion and pretext are determined by Slavery, and thus testify to the part it constantly performs.
The pretended right of secession is not less monstrous than the pretext or the occasion; and this, too, is born of Slavery. It belongs to that brood of assumptions and perversions of which Slavery is prolific parent. Wherever Slavery prevails, this pretended right is recognized, and generally with an intensity proportioned to the prevalence of Slavery,—as, for instance, in South Carolina and Mississippi more intensely than in Tennessee and Kentucky. It may be considered a fixed part of the slaveholding system. A pretended right to set aside the Constitution, to the extent of breaking up the Government, is the natural companion of the pretended right to set aside human nature, making merchandise of men. They form a well-matched couple, and travel well together,—destined to perish together. If we do not overflow toward the former with the same indignation which we feel for the latter, it is because its absurdity awakens our contempt. An English poet of the last century exclaims, in mocking verses,—
“Crowned be the man with lasting praise
Who first contrived the pin,