Mr. Benton: The senator from South Carolina (Mr. Calhoun) has boldly made the issue as to the authorship of this war, and as boldly thrown the blame of it upon the present administration. On the contrary, I believe himself to be the author of it, and will give a part of my reasons for believing so. In saying this, I do not consider the march to the Rio Grande to have been the cause of the war, any more than I consider the British march upon Concord and Lexington to have been the cause of the American Revolution, or the crossing of the Rubicon by Cæsar to have been the cause of the civil war in Rome. In all these cases, I consider the causes of war as pre-existing, and the marches as only the effect of these causes. I consider the march upon the Rio Grande as being unfortunate, and certainly should have advised against it if I had been consulted, and that without the least fear of diminishing my influence in the settlement of the Oregon question—a fear which the senator from South Carolina says prevented him from interposing to prevent the war which he foresaw. My opinion of Mr. Polk—and experience in that very Oregon case has confirmed it—did not authorize me to conjecture that any one would lose influence with him by giving him honest opinions; so I would have advised against the march to the Rio Grande if I had been consulted. Nor do I see how any opinion adverse to the President's was to have the effect of lessening his influence in the settlement of the Oregon question. That question was settled by us, not by the President. Half the democratic senators went contrary to the President's opinion, and none of them lost influence with him on that account; and so I can see no possible connection between the facts of the case and the senator's reason for not interfering to save his country from the war which, he says, he saw. His reason to me is unintelligible, incomprehensible, unconnectable with the facts of the case. But the march on the Rio Grande was not the cause of the war; but the causes of this event, like the causes of our own revolutionary war, were in progress long before hostilities broke out. The causes of this Mexican war were long anterior to this march; and, in fact, every circumstance of war then existed, except the actual collision of arms. Diplomatic intercourse had ceased; commerce was destroyed; fleets and armies confronted each other; treaties were declared to be broken; the contingency had occurred in which Mexico had denounced the existence of war; the incorporation of Texas, with a Mexican war on her hands, had produced, in legal contemplation, the status belli between the two countries: and all this had occurred before the march upon the Rio Grande, and before the commencement of this administration, and had produced a state of things which it was impossible to continue, and which could only receive their solution from arms or negotiation. The march to the Rio Grande brought on the collision of arms; but, so far from being the cause of the war, it was itself the effect of these causes. The senator from South Carolina is the author of those causes, and therefore the author of the war; and this I propose to show, at present, by evidence drawn from himself—from his public official acts—leaving all the evidence derived from other sources, from private and unofficial acts, for future production, if deemed necessary.
The senator from South Carolina, in his effort to throw the blame of the war upon the President, goes no further back in his search for causes than to this march upon the Rio Grande: upon the same principle, if he wrote a history of the American Revolution, he would begin at the march upon Lexington and Concord, leaving out of view the ten years' work of Lord North's administration which caused that march to be made. No, the march upon the Rio Grande was not the cause of the war: had it not been for pre-existing causes, the arrival of the American army on the Mexican frontier would have been saluted with military courtesy, according to the usage of all civilized nations, and with none so much as with the Spaniards. Complimentary visits, dinners, and fandangos, balls—not cannon balls—would have been the salutation. The causes of the war are long anterior; and I begin with the beginning, and show the senator from South Carolina an actor from the first. In doing this, I am acting in defence of the country, for the President represents the country. The senator from South Carolina charges the war upon the President: the whole opposition follow him: the bill under discussion is forgotten: crimination of the President is now the object: and in that crimination, the country is injured by being made to appear the aggressor in the war. This is my justification for defending the President, and showing the truth that the senator, in his manner of acquiring Texas, is the true cause of the war.
The cession of Texas to Spain in 1819 is the beginning point in the chain of causes which have led to this war; for unless the country had been ceded away, there could have been no quarrel with any power in getting it back. For a long time the negotiator of that treaty of cession (Mr. J. Q. Adams) bore all the blame of the loss of Texas; and his motives for giving it away were set down to hostility to the South and West, and a desire to clip the wings of the slaveholding States. At last the truth of history has vindicated itself, and has shown who was the true author of that mischief to the South and West. Mr. Adams has made a public declaration, which no one controverts, that that cession was made in conformity to the decision of Mr. Monroe's cabinet, a majority of which was slaveholding, and among them the present senator from South Carolina, and now the only survivor of that majority. He does not contradict the statement of Mr. Adams: he, therefore, stands admitted the co-author of that mischief to the South and West which the cession of Texas involved, and to escape from which it became necessary, in the opinion of the senator from South Carolina, to get back Texas at the expense of war with Mexico. This conduct of the senator in giving away Texas when we had her, and then making war to get her back, is an enigma which he has never yet condescended to explain, and which, until explained, leaves him in a state of self-contradiction, which, whether it impairs his own confidence in himself or not, must have the effect of destroying the confidence of others in him, and wholly disqualifies him for the office of champion of the slaveholding States. It was the heaviest blow they had ever received, and put an end, in conjunction with the Missouri compromise, and the permanent location of the Indians west of the Mississippi, to their future growth or extension as slave States beyond the Mississippi. The compromise, which was then in full progress, and established at the next session of Congress, cut off the slave States from all territory north and west of Missouri, and south of thirty-six and a half degrees of north latitude: the treaty of 1819 ceded nearly all south of that degree, comprehending not only all Texas, but a large part of the valley of the Mississippi on the Red River and the Arkansas, to a foreign power, and brought a non-slaveholding empire to the confines of Louisiana and Arkansas: the permanent appropriation of the rest of the territory for the abode of civilized Indians swept the little slaveholding territory west of Arkansas and lying between the compromise line and the cession line; and left the slave States without one inch of ground for their future growth. Nothing was left. Even the then territory of Arkansas was encroached upon. A breadth of forty miles wide, and three hundred long was cut off from her, and given to the Cherokees; and there was not as much slave territory left west of the Mississippi as a dove could have rested the sole of her foot upon. It was not merely a curtailment, but a total extinction of slaveholding territory; and done at a time when the Missouri controversy was raging, and every effort made by Northern abolitionists to stop the growth of slave States.[8]
I come now to the direct proofs of the senator's authorship of the war; and begin with the year 1836, and with the month of May of that year, and with the 27th day of that month, and with the first rumors of the victory of San Jacinto. The Congress of the United States was then in session: the senator from South Carolina was then a member of this body; and, without even waiting for the official confirmation of that great event, he proposed at once the immediate recognition of the independence of Texas, and her immediate admission into this Union. He put the two propositions together—recognition and admission: and allowed us no further time for the double vote than the few days which were to intervene before the official intelligence of the victory should arrive. Here are some extracts from his speech on that occasion, and which verify what I say, and show that he was then ready to plunge the country into the Texian war with Mexico, without the slightest regard to its treaties, its commerce, its duties, or its character.
(The extracts.)
Here, then, is the proof of the fact that, ten years ago, and without a word of explanation with Mexico, or any request from Texas—without the least notice to the American people, or time for deliberation among ourselves, or any regard to existing commerce—he was for plunging us into instant war with Mexico. I say, instant war; for Mexico and Texas were then in open war; and to incorporate Texas, was to incorporate the war at the same time. All this the senator was then for, immediately after his own gratuitous cession of Texas, and long before the invention of the London abolition plot came so opportunely to his aid. Promptness and unanimity were then his watchwords. Immediate action—action before Congress adjourned—was his demand. No delay. Delays were dangerous. We must vote, and vote unanimously, and promptly. I well remember the senator's look and attitude on that occasion—the fixedness of his look, and the magisteriality of his attitude. It was such as he often favors us with, especially when he is in a "crisis," and brings forward something which ought to be instantly and unanimously rejected—as when he brought in his string of abstractions on Thursday last. So it was in 1836—prompt and unanimous action, and a look to put down opposition. But the Senate was not looked down in 1836. They promptly and unanimously refused the senator's motion! and the crisis and the danger—good-natured souls!—immediately postponed themselves until wanted for another occasion.
The peace of the country was then saved; but it was a respite only; and the speech of the senator from South Carolina, brief as it was, becomes momentous as foreshadowing every thing that has subsequently taken place in relation to the admission of Texas. In this brief speech we have the shadows of all future movements, coming in procession—in advance of the events. In the significant intimation, qualified with the if——"the Texians prudently managed their affairs, they (the Senate) might soon be called upon to decide the question of admission." In that pregnant and qualified intimation, there was a visible doubt that the Texians might not be prudent enough to manage their own affairs, and might require help; and also a visible feeling of that paternal guardianship which afterward assumed the management of their affairs for them. In the admonitions to unanimity, there was that denunciation of any difference of opinion which afterwards displayed itself in the ferocious hunting down of all who opposed the Texas treaty. In the reference to southern slavery, and annoyance to slave property from Texas, we have the germ of the "self-defence" letter, and the first glimpse of the abolition plot of John Andrews, Ashbel Smith, Lord Aberdeen—I beg pardon of Lord Aberdeen for naming him in such a connection—and the World's Convention, with which Mexico, Texas, and the United States were mystified and bamboozled in April, 1844. And, in the interests of the manufacturing and navigating States of the north and east, as connected with Texas admission, we have the text of all the communications to the agent, Murphy, and of all the letters and speeches to which the Texas question, seven years afterwards, gave rise. We have all these subsequent events here shadowed forth. And now, the wonder is, why all these things were not foreseen a little while before, when Texas was being ceded to a non-slaveholding empire? and why, after being so imminent and deadly in May, 1836, all these dangers suddenly went to sleep, and never waked up again until 1844? These are wonders; but let us not anticipate questions, and let us proceed with the narrative.
The Congress of 1836 would not admit Texas. The senator from South Carolina became patient: the Texas question went to sleep; and for seven good years it made no disturbance. It then woke up, and with a suddenness and violence proportioned to its long repose. Mr. Tyler was then President: the senator from South Carolina was potent under his administration, and soon became his Secretary of State. All the springs of intrigue and diplomacy were immediately set in motion to resuscitate the Texas question, and to re-invest it with all the dangers and alarms which it had worn in 1836. Passing over all the dangers of annoyance from Texas as possibly non-slaveholding, foreseen by the senator in 1836, and not foreseen by him in 1819, with all the need for guardianship then foreshadowed, and all the arguments then suggested: all these immediately developed themselves, and intriguing agents traversed earth and sea, from Washington to Texas, and from London to Mexico:—passing over all this, as belonging to a class of evidence, not now to be used, I come at once to the letter of the 17th of January, from the Texian minister to Mr. Upshur, the American Secretary of State; and the answer to that letter by Mr. Calhoun, of April 11th of the same year. They are both vital in this case; and the first is in these words:
(The letter.)
This letter reveals the true state of the Texian question in January, 1844, and the conduct of all parties in relation to it. It presents Texas and Mexico, weary of the war, reposing under an armistice, and treating for peace; Great Britain and France acting the noble part of mediators, and endeavoring to make peace: our own government secretly intriguing for annexation, acting the wicked part of mischief-makers, and trying to renew the war; and the issue of its machinations to be unsuccessful unless the United States should be involved in the renewed hostilities. That was the question; and the letter openly puts it to the American Secretary of State. The answer to that question, in my opinion, should have been, that the President of the United States did not know of the armistice and the peace negotiations at the time that he proposed to Texas to do an act which would be a perfidious violation of those sacred engagements, and bring upon herself the scourge of renewed invasion and the stigma of perfidy—that he would not have made such a proposal for the whole round world, if he had known of the armistice and the peace negotiations—that he wished success to the peace-makers, both for the sake of Mexico and Texas, and because Texas could then come into the Union without the least interruption to our friendly, commercial, and social relations with our sister republic of Mexico; and that, as to secretly lending the army and navy of the United States to Texas to fight Mexico while we were at peace with her, it would be a crime against God, and man, and our own constitution, for which heads might be brought to the block, if presidents and their secretaries, like constitutional kings and ministers, should be held capitally responsible for capital crimes. This, in my opinion, should have been the answer.