Do gentlemen fear the result of this resolution in embroiling us with the Porte? Why, sir, how much is it ahead of the whole nation, or rather let me ask how much is the nation ahead of it? Is not this whole people already in a state of open and avowed excitement on this subject? Does not the land ring from side to side with one common sentiment of sympathy for Greece, and indignation toward her oppressors? nay, more, sir—are we not giving money to this cause? More still, sir—is not the secretary of state in open correspondence with the president of the Greek committee in London? The nation has gone as far as it can go, short of an official act of hostility. This resolution adds nothing beyond what is already done—nor can any of the European governments take offence at such a measure. But if they would, should we be withheld from an honest expression of liberal feelings in the cause of freedom, for fear of giving umbrage to some member of the holy alliance? We are not, surely, yet prepared to purchase their smiles by a sacrifice of every manly principle. Dare any Christian prince even ask us not to sympathize with a Christian nation struggling against Tartar tyranny? We do not interfere—we break no engagements—we violate no treaties; with the Porte we have none.
Mr. Chairman, there are some things which, to be well done, must be promptly done. If we even determine to do the thing that is now proposed, we may do it too late. Sir, I am not of those who are for withholding aid when it is most urgently needed, and when the stress is past, and the aid no longer necessary, overwhelming the sufferers with caresses. I will not stand by and see my fellow man drowning without stretching out a hand to help him, till he has by his own efforts and presence of mind reached the shore in safety, and then encumber him with aid. With suffering Greece now is the crisis of her fate,—her great, it may be, her last struggle. Sir, while we sit here deliberating, her destiny may be decided. The Greeks, contending with ruthless oppressors, turn their eyes to us, and invoke us by their ancestors, slaughtered wives and children, by their own blood, poured out like water, by the hecatombs of dead they have heaped up as it were to heaven, they invoke, they implore us for some cheering sound, some look of sympathy, some token of compassionate regard. They look to us as the great republic of the earth—and they ask us by our common faith, whether we can forget that they are struggling, as we once struggled, for what we now so happily enjoy? I cannot say, sir, that they will succeed; that rests with heaven. But for myself, sir, if I should to-morrow hear that they have failed—that their last phalanx had sunk beneath the Turkish cimeter, that the flames of their last city had sunk in its ashes, and that naught remained but the wide melancholy waste where Greece once was, I should still reflect, with the most heartfelt satisfaction, that I have asked you in the name of seven millions of freemen, that you would give them at least the cheering of one friendly voice.
John Randolph on the other side of Same Question.
Mr. Chairman,—It is with serious concern and alarm, that I have heard doctrines broached in this debate, fraught with consequences more disastrous to the best interests of this people than any that I have ever heard advanced during the five-and-twenty years that I have been honored with a seat on this floor. They imply, to my apprehension, a total and fundamental change of the policy pursued by this government, ab urbe condita—from the foundation of the republic, to the present day. Are we, sir, to go on a crusade, in another hemisphere, for the propagation of two objects—objects as dear and delightful to my heart as to that of any gentleman in this, or in any other assembly—liberty and religion—and, in the name of these holy words—by this powerful spell, is this nation to be conjured and persuaded out of the highway of heaven—out of its present comparatively happy state, into all the disastrous conflicts arising from the policy of European powers, with all the consequences which flow from them?
Liberty and religion, sir! I believe that nothing similar to this proposition is to be found in modern history, unless in the famous decree of the French national assembly, which brought combined Europe against them, with its united strength, and, after repeated struggles, finally effected the downfall of the French power. Sir, I am wrong—there is another example of like doctrine; and you find it among that strange and peculiar people—in that mysterious book, which is of the highest authority with them, (for it is at once their gospel and their law,) the Koran, which enjoins it to be the duty of all good Moslems to propagate its doctrines at the point of the sword—by the edge of the cimeter. The character of that people is a peculiar one: they differ from every other race. It has been said, here, that it is four hundred years since they encamped in Europe. Sir, they were encamped, on the spot where we now find them, before this country was discovered, and their title to the country which they occupy is at least as good as ours. They hold their possessions there by the same title by which all other countries are held—possession, obtained at first by a successful employment of force, confirmed by time, usage, prescription—the best of all possible titles. Their policy has been not tortuous, like that of other states of Europe, but straightforward: they had invariably appealed to the sword, and they held by the sword. The Russ had, indeed, made great encroachments on their empire, but the ground had been contested inch by inch; and the acquisitions of Russia on the side of Christian Europe—Livonia, Ingria, Courland—Finland, to the Gulf of Bothnia—Poland!—had been greater than that of the Mahometans. And, in consequence of this straightforward policy to which I before referred, this peculiar people could boast of being the only one of the continental Europe, whose capital had never been insulted by the presence of a foreign military force. It was a curious fact, well worthy of attention, that Constantinople was the only capital in continental Europe—for Moscow was the true capital of Russia—that had never been in possession of an enemy. It is, indeed, true, that the Empress Catharine did inscribe over the gate of one of the cities that she had won in the Krimea, (Cherson, I think,) “the road to Byzantium;” but, sir, it has proved—perhaps too low a word for the subject—but a stumpy road for Russia. Who, at that day, would have been believed, had he foretold to that august (for so she was) and illustrious woman that her Cossacks of the Ukraine, and of the Don, would have encamped in Paris before they reached Constantinople? Who would have been believed, if he had foretold that a French invading force—such as the world never saw before, and, I trust, will never again see—would lay Moscow itself in ashes? These are considerations worthy of attention, before we embark in the project proposed by this resolution, the consequences of which no human eye can divine.
I would respectfully ask the gentleman from Massachusetts, whether in his very able and masterly argument—and he has said all that could be said upon the subject, and more than I supposed could be said by any man in favor of his resolution—whether he himself has not furnished an answer to his speech—I had not the happiness myself to hear his speech, but a friend has read it to me. In one of the arguments in that speech, toward the conclusion, I think, of his speech, the gentleman lays down, from Puffendorf, in reference to the honeyed words and pious professions of the holy alliance, that these are all surplusage, because nations are always supposed to be ready to do what justice and national law require. Well, sir, if this be so, why may not the Greeks presume—why are they not, on this principle, bound to presume, that this government is disposed to do all, in reference to them, that they ought to do, without any formal resolutions to that effect? I ask the gentleman from Massachusetts, whether the doctrine of Puffendorf does not apply as strongly to the resolution as to the declaration of the allies—that is, if the resolution of the gentleman be indeed that almost nothing he would have us suppose, if there be not something behind this nothing which divides this house (not horizontally, as the gentleman has ludicrously said—but vertically) into two unequal parties, one the advocate of a splendid system of crusades, the other the friends of peace and harmony; the advocates of a fireside policy—for, as had been truly said, as long as all is right at the fireside, there cannot be much wrong elsewhere—whether, I repeat, does not the doctrine of Puffendorf apply as well to the words of the resolution as to the words of the holy alliance?
But, sir, we have already done more than this. The president of the United States, the only organ of communication which the people have seen fit to establish between us and foreign powers, has already expressed all, in reference to Greece, that the resolution goes to express actum est—it is done—it is finished—there is an end. Not, that I would have the house to infer, that I mean to express any opinion as to the policy of such a declaration—the practice of responding to presidential addresses and messages had gone out for, now, these two or three-and-twenty years.
Extract from Mr. Hayne’s Speech against the Tariff Bill, in Congress,
January, 1832.
Mr. President,—The plain and seemingly obvious truth, that in a fair and equal exchange of commodities all parties gained, is a noble discovery of modern times. The contrary principle naturally led to commercial rivalries, wars, and abuses of all sorts. The benefits of commerce being regarded as a stake to be won, or an advantage to be wrested from others by fraud or by force, governments naturally strove to secure them to their own subjects; and when they once set out in this wrong direction, it was quite natural that they should not stop short till they ended in binding, in the bonds of restriction, not only the whole country, but all of its parts. Thus we are told that England first protected by her restrictive policy, her whole empire against all the world, then Great Britain against the colonies, then the British islands against each other, and ended by vainly attempting to protect all the great interests and employment of the state by balancing them against each other. Sir, such a system, carried fully out, is not confined to rival nations, but protects one town against another, considers villages, and even families as rivals; and cannot stop short of “Robinson Crusoe in his goat skins.” It takes but one step further to make every man his own lawyer, doctor, farmer, and shoemaker—and, if I may be allowed an Irishism, his own seamstress and washerwoman. The doctrine of free trade, on the contrary, is founded on the true social system. It looks on all mankind as children of a common parent—and the great family of nations as linked together by mutual interests. Sir, as there is a religion, so I believe there is a politics of nature. Cast your eyes over this various earth—see its surface diversified by hills and valleys, rocks, and fertile fields. Notice its different productions—its infinite varieties of soil and climate. See the mighty rivers winding their way to the very mountain’s base, and thence guiding man to the vast ocean, dividing, yet connecting nations. Can any man who considers these things with the eye of a philosopher, not read the design of the great Creator (written legibly in his works) that his children should be drawn together in a free commercial intercourse, and mutual exchanges of the various gifts with which a bountiful Providence has blessed them. Commerce, sir, restricted even as she has been, has been the great source of civilization and refinement all over the world. Next to the Christian religion, I consider free trade in its largest sense as the greatest blessing that can be conferred upon any people. Hear, sir, what Patrick Henry, the great orator of Virginia, whose soul was the very temple of freedom, says on this subject:—