It will be a strange spectacle, in the nineteenth century, to behold the United States at war with Mexico, because Great Britain wishes—TO SEE—the abolition of slavery in Texas.
So far from being a just cause of war, I hold that the expression of such a wish is not even censurable by us, since our naval alliance with Great Britain for the suppression of the slave trade—since our diplomatic alliance with her to close the markets of the world against the slave trade—and since the large effusion of mawkish sentimentality on the subject of slavery, in which our advocates of the aforesaid diplomatic and naval alliance indulged themselves at the time of its negotiation and conclusion. Since that time, I think we have lost the right (if we ever possessed it) of fighting Mexico, because Great Britain says she wishes—TO SEE—slavery abolished in Texas, as elsewhere throughout the world.
The civilized world judges the causes of war, and discriminates between motives and pretexts: the former are respected when true and valid—the latter are always despised and exposed. Every Christian nation owes it to itself, as well as to the family of Christian nations, to examine well its grounds of war, before it begins one, and to hold itself in a condition to justify its act in the eyes of God and man. Not satisfied of either the truth or validity of the cause for our war with Mexico, in the alleged interference of Great Britain in Texian affairs, I feel myself bound to oppose it, and not the less because it is deemed a small war. Our constitution knows no difference between wars. The declaration of all wars is given to Congress—not to the President and Senate—much less to the President alone. Besides, a war is an ungovernable monster, and there is no knowing into what proportions even a small one may expand! especially when the interference of one large power may lead to the interference of another.
Great Britain disavows (and that four times over) all the designs upon Texas attributed to her. She disavows every thing. I believe I am as jealous of the encroaching and domineering spirit of that power, as any reasonable man ought to be; but these disavowals are enough for me. That government is too proud to lie! too wise to criminate its future conduct by admitting the culpability which the disavowal implies. Its fault is on the other side of the account—in its arrogance in avowing, and even overstating, its pretensions. Copenhagen is her style! I repeat it, then, the disavowal of all design to interfere with Texian Independence, or with the existence of slavery in Texas, is enough for me. I shall believe in it until I see it disproved by evidence, or otherwise falsified. Would to God that our administration could get the same disavowal in all the questions of real difference between the two countries! that we could get it in the case of the Oregon—the claim of search—the claim of visitation—the claim of impressment—the practice of liberating our fugitive and criminal slaves—the repetition of the Schlosser invasion of our territory and murder of our citizens—the outrage of the Comet, Encomium, Enterprise, and Hermosa cases!
And here, without regard to the truth or falsehood of this imputed design of British intentions to abolish slavery in Texas, a very awkward circumstance crosses our path in relation to its validity, if true: for, it so happens that we did that very thing ourselves! By the Louisiana treaty of 1803, Texas, and all the country, between the Red River and Arkansas, became ours, and was subject to slavery: by the treaty of 1819, made, as Mr. Adams assures us, by the majority of Mr. Monroe's cabinet, who were Southern men, this Texas, and a hundred thousand square miles of other territory between the Red River and Arkansas, were dismembered from our Union, and added to Mexico, a non-slaveholding empire. By that treaty of 1819, slavery was actually abolished in all that region in which we now only fear, contrary to the evidence, that there is a design to abolish it! and the confines of a non-slaveholding empire were then actually brought to the boundaries of Louisiana, Arkansas, and Missouri! the exact places which we now so greatly fear to expose to the contact of a non-slaveholding dominion. All this I exposed at the time the treaty of 1819 was made, and pointed out as one of the follies or crimes, of that unaccountable treaty; and now recur to it in my place here to absolve Mr. Adams, the negotiator of the treaty of 1819, from the blame which I then cast upon him. His responsible statement on the floor of the House of Representatives has absolved him from that blame, and transferred it to the shoulders of the majority of Mr. Monroe's cabinet. On seeing the report of his speech in the papers, I deemed it right to communicate with Mr. Adams, through a senator from his State, now in my eye, and who hears what I say (looking at Mr. Bates, of Massachusetts), and through him received the confirmation of the reported speech, that he (Mr. Adams) was the last of Mr. Monroe's cabinet to yield our true boundaries in that quarter. [Here Mr. Bates nodded assent.] Southern men deprived us of Texas, and made it non-slaveholding in 1819. Our present Secretary of State was a member of that cabinet, and counselled that treaty: our present President was a member of the House, and sanctioned it in voting against Mr. Clay's condemnatory resolution. They did a great mischief then: they should be cautious not to err again in the manner of getting it back.
I have shown you, Mr. President, that the ratification of this treaty would be war with Mexico—that it would be unjust war, unconstitutionally made—and made upon a weak and groundless pretext. It is not my purpose to show for what object this war is made—why these marching and sailing orders have been given—and why our troops and ships, as squadrons and corps of observation, are now in the Gulf of Mexico, watching Mexican cities; or on the Red River, watching Mexican soldiers. I have not told the reasons for this war, and warlike movements, nor is it necessary to do so. The purpose of the whole is plain and obvious. It is in every body's mouth. It is in the air, and we can see and feel it. Mr. Tyler wants to be President; and, different from the perfumed fop of Shakspeare, to whom the smell of gunpowder was so offensive, he not only wants to smell that compound, but also to smell of it. He wants an odor of the "villanous compound" upon him. He has become infected with the modern notion that gunpowder popularity is the passport to the presidency; and he wants that passport. He wants to play Jackson; but let him have a care. From the sublime to the ridiculous there is but a step; and, in heroic imitations, there is no middle ground. The hero missed, the harlequin appears; and hisses salute the ears which were itching for applause. Jackson was no candidate for the presidency when he acted the real, not the mock hero. He staked himself for his country—did nothing but what was just—and eschewed intrigue. His elevation to the presidency was the act of his fellow-citizens—not the machination of himself.
[CHAPTER CXL.]
TEXAS OR DISUNION: SOUTHERN CONVENTION: MR. BENTON'S SPEECH: EXTRACTS.
The senator from South Carolina (Mr. McDuffie) assumes it for certain, that the great meeting projected for Nashville is to take place: and wishes to know who are to be my bedfellows in that great gathering: and I on my part, would wish to know who are to be his! Misery, says the proverb, makes strange bedfellows: and political combinations sometimes make them equally strange. The fertile imagination of Burke has presented us with a view of one of these strange sights; and the South Carolina procession at Nashville (if nothing occurs to balk it) may present another. Burke has exhibited to us the picture of a cluster of old political antagonists (it was after the formation of Lord North's broad bottomed administration, and after the country's good and love of office had smothered old animosities)—all sleeping together in one truckle-bed: to use his own language, all pigging together (that is, lying like pigs, heads and tails, and as many together) in the same truckle-bed: and a queer picture he made of it! But if things go on as projected here, never did misery, or political combination, or the imagination of Burke, present such a medley of bedfellows as will be seen at Nashville. All South Carolina is to be there: of course General Jackson will be there, and will be good and hospitable to all. But let the travellers take care who goes to bed to him. If he should happen to find old tariff disunion, disguised as Texas disunion, lying by his side! then woe to the hapless wight that has sought such a lodging. Preservation of the Federal Union is as strong in the old Roman's heart now as ever: and while, as a Christian, he forgives all that is past (if it were past!), yet, no old tricks under new names. Texas disunion will be to him the same as tariff disunion: and if he detects a Texas disunionist nestling into his bed, I say again, woe to the luckless wight! Sheets and blankets will be no salvation. The tiger will not be toothless—the senator understands the allusion—nor clawless either. Teeth and claws he will have, and sharp use he will make of them! Not only skin and fur, but blood and bowels may fly, and double-quick time scampering may clear that bed! I shall not be there: even if the scheme goes on (which I doubt after this day's occurrences); if it should go on, and any thing should induce me to go so far out of my line, it would be to have a view of the senator from South Carolina, and the friends for whom he speaks, and their new bedfellows, or fellows in bed, as the case may be, all pigging together in one truckle-bed at Nashville.