Mr. Gouverneur Morris.—Mr. President, my object is peace. I could assign many reasons to show that this declaration is sincere. But can it be necessary to give this Senate any other assurance than my word? Notwithstanding the acerbity of temper which results from party strife, gentlemen will believe me on my word. I will not pretend, like my honorable colleague, (Mr. Clinton,) to describe to you the waste, the ravages, and the horrors of war. I have not the same harmonious periods, nor the same musical tones; neither shall I boast of Christian charity, nor attempt to display that ingenuous glow of benevolence so decorous to the cheek of youth, which gave a vivid tint to every sentence he uttered; and was, if possible, as impressive even as his eloquence. But, though we possess not the same pomp of words, our hearts are not insensible to the woes of humanity. We can feel for the misery of plundered towns, the conflagration of defenceless villages, and the devastation of cultured fields. Turning from these features of general distress, we can enter the abodes of private affliction, and behold the widow weeping, as she traces, in the pledges of connubial affection, the resemblance of him whom she has lost for ever. We see the aged matron bending over the ashes of her son. He was her darling; for he was generous and brave, and therefore his spirit led him to the field in defence of his country. We can observe another oppressed with unutterable anguish: condemned to conceal her affection; forced to hide that passion which is at once the torment and delight of life; she learns that those eyes which beamed with sentiment, are closed in death; and his lip, the ruby harbinger of joy, lies pale and cold, the miserable appendage of a mangled corpse. Hard, hard indeed, must be that heart which can be insensible to scenes like these, and bold the man who dare present to the Almighty Father a conscience crimsoned with the blood of his children.
Yes, sir, we wish for peace; but how is that blessing to be preserved? I shall here repeat a sentiment I have often had occasion to express. In my opinion, there is nothing worth fighting for, but national honor; for in the national honor is involved the national independence. I know that a State may find itself in such unpropitious circumstances, that prudence may force a wise government to conceal the sense of indignity. But the insult should be engraven on tablets of brass, with a pencil of steel. And when that time and chance, which happen to all, shall bring forward the favorable moment, then let the avenging arm strike him. It is by avowing and maintaining this stern principle of honor, that peace can be preserved. But let it not be supposed that any thing I say has the slightest allusion to the injuries sustained from France, while suffering in the pangs of her Revolution. As soon should I upbraid a sick man for what he might have done in the paroxysms of disease. Nor is this a new sentiment; it was felt and avowed at the time when these wrongs were heaped on us, and I appeal for the proof to the files of your Secretary of State. The destinies of France were then in the hands of monsters. By the decree of Heaven she was broken on the wheel, in the face of the world, to warn mankind of her folly and madness. But these scenes have passed away. On the throne of the Bourbons is now seated the first of the Gallic Cæsars. At the head of that gallant nation is the great—the greatest—man of the present age. It becomes us well to consider his situation. The things he has achieved, compel him to the achievement of things more great. In his vast career, we must soon become objects to command attention. We too, in our turn, must contend or submit. By submission we may indeed have peace, alike precarious and ignominious. But is this the peace which we ought to seek? Will this satisfy the just expectation of our country? No. Let us have peace permanent, secure, and, if I may use the term, independent. Peace which depends, not on the pity of others, but on our own force. Let us have the only peace worth having, a peace consistent with honor.
Before I consider the existing state of things, let me notice what gentlemen have said in relation to it. The honorable member from Kentucky has told us, that indeed there is a right arrested, but whether by authority or not is equivocal. He says the representative of Spain verily believes it to be an unauthorized act. My honorable colleague informs us there has been a clashing between the Governor and Intendant. He says we are told by the Spanish Minister it was unauthorized. Notwithstanding these assurances, however, my honorable colleague has, it seems, some doubts; but nevertheless he presumes innocence, for my colleague is charitable. The honorable member from Maryland goes further. He tells us the Minister of Spain says, the Intendant had no such authority, and the Minister of France, too, says there is no such authority. Sir, I have all possible respect for those gentlemen, and every proper confidence in what they may think proper to communicate. I believe the Spanish Minister has the best imaginable disposition to preserve peace; being indeed the express purpose for which he was sent among us. I believe it to be an object near to his heart, and which has a strong hold upon his affections. I respect the warmth and benevolence of his feelings, but he must pardon me that I am deficient in courtly compliment; I am a republican, and cannot commit the interests of my country to the goodness of his heart.
What is the state of things? There has been a cession of the island of New Orleans and of Louisiana to France. Whether the Floridas have also been ceded is not yet certain. It has been said, as from authority, and I think it probable. Now, sir, let us note the time and the manner of this cession. It was at or immediately after the treaty of Lunéville, at the first moment when France could take up a distant object of attention. But had Spain a right to make this cession without our consent? Gentlemen have taken it for granted that she had. But I deny the position. No nation has a right to give to another a dangerous neighbor without her consent. This is not like the case of private citizens, for there, when a man is injured, he can resort to the tribunals for redress; and yet, even there, to dispose of property to one who is a bad neighbor is always considered as an act of unkindness. But as between nations, who can redress themselves only by war, such transfer is in itself an aggression. He who renders me insecure; he who hazards my peace, and exposes me to imminent danger, commits an act of hostility against me, and gives me the rights consequent on that act. Suppose Great Britain should give to Algiers one of the Bahamas, and contribute thereby to establish a nest of pirates near your coasts, would you not consider it as an aggression? Suppose, during the late war, you had conveyed to France a tract of land along Hudson's River, and the northern route by the Lakes into Canada, would not Britain have considered and treated it as an act of direct hostility? It is among the first limitations to the exercise of the rights of property, that we must so use our own as not to injure another; and it is under the immediate sense of this restriction that nations are bound to act toward each other.
But it is not this transfer alone. There are circumstances both in the time and in the manner of it which deserve attention. A gentleman from Maryland (Mr. Wright) has told you, that all treaties ought to be published and proclaimed for the information of other nations. I ask, was this a public treaty? No. Was official notice of it given to the Government of this country? Was it announced to the President of the United States, in the usual forms of civility between nations who duly respect each other? It was not. Let gentlemen contradict me if they can. They will say perhaps that it was the omission only of a vain and idle ceremony. Ignorance may indeed pretend that such communication is an empty compliment, which, established without use, may be omitted without offence. But this is not so. If these be ceremonies, they are not vain, but of serious import, and are founded on strong reason. He who means me well acts without disguise. Had this transaction been intended fairly, it would have been told frankly. But it was secret because it was hostile. The First Consul, in the moment of terminating his differences with you, sought the means of future influence and control. He found and secured a pivot for that immense lever, by which, with potent arm, he means to subvert your civil and political institutions. Thus, the beginning was made in deep hostility. Conceived in such principles, it presaged no good. Its bodings were evil, and evil have been its fruits. We heard of it during the last session of Congress, but to this hour we have not heard of any formal and regular communication from those by whom it was made. Has the King of Spain, has the First Consul of France, no means of making such communication to the President of the United States? Yes, sir, we have a Minister in Spain; we have a Minister in France. Nothing was easier, and yet nothing has been done. Our First Magistrate has been treated with contempt; and through him our country has been insulted.
With that meek and peaceful spirit now so strongly recommended, we submitted to this insult, and what followed? That which might have been expected; a violation of our treaty. An open and direct violation by a public officer of the Spanish Government. This is not the case cited from one of the books. It is not a wrong done by a private citizen, which might, for that reason, be of doubtful nature. No; it is by a public officer,—that officer, in whose particular department it was to cause the faithful observance of the treaty which he has violated. We are told indeed that there was a clashing of opinion between the Governor and the Intendant. But what have we to do with their domestic broils? The injury is done, we feel it. Let the fault be whose it may, the suffering is ours. But, say gentlemen, the Spanish Minister has interfered to correct this irregular procedure. Sir, if the Intendant was amenable to the Minister, why did he not inform him of the step he was about to take, that the President of the United States might seasonably have been apprised of his intention, and given the proper notice to our fellow-citizens? Why has he first learnt this offensive act from those who suffer by it? Why is he thus held up to contempt and derision? If the Intendant is to be controlled by the Minister, would he have taken a step so important without his advice? Common sense will say no. But, the bitter cup of humiliation was not yet full. Smarting under the lash of the Intendant, the Minister soothes you with assurances, and sends advice-boats to announce your forbearance. But while they are on their way, new injury and new insult are added. The Intendant, as if determined to try the extent of your meekness, forbids to your citizens all communication with those who inhabit the shores of the Mississippi. Though they should be starving, the Spaniard is made criminal who should give them food. Fortunately, the waters of the river are potable, or else we should be precluded from the common benefits of nature, the common bounty of heaven. What then, I ask, is the amount of this savage conduct? Sir, it is war. Open and direct war. And yet gentlemen recommend peace, and forbid us to take up the gauntlet of defiance. Will gentlemen sit here and shut their eyes to the state and condition of their country? I shall not reply to what has been said respecting depredations on commerce, but confine myself to objects of which there can be no shadow of doubt. Here is a vast country given away, and not without danger to us. Has a nation a right to put these States in a dangerous situation? No, sir. And yet it has been done, not only without our consent previous to the grant, but without observing the common forms of civility after it was made. Is that wonderful man who presides over the destinies of France, ignorant or unmindful of these forms? See what was done the other day. He directed his Minister to communicate to the Elector of Bavaria, his intended movements in Switzerland, and their object. He knew the Elector had a right to expect that information, although the greater part of Swabia lies between his dominions and Switzerland. And this right is founded on the broad principles already mentioned.
Having thus considered the effect of this cession upon the United States, in a general point of view, let us now examine it more particularly, as it regards the greater divisions of our country, the Western, the Southern, the Middle, and the Eastern States. I fear, sir, I shall detain you longer than I intended, certainly longer than the light of day will last, notwithstanding my effort to comprise what I have to say in the smallest compass. As to the Western States, the effects will be remote and immediate. Those more remote may be examined under the twofold aspect of peace and war. In peace they will suffer the diminution of price for their produce. The advantage of supplying the French, Dutch, and Spanish colonies, may at first sight lead to a different opinion; but when the port of New Orleans is shut to all but French ships, there will no longer be that competition which now exists, and which always results in the highest price that commodities can bear. The French merchants have neither the large capital, nor have they the steady temper and persevering industry which foster commerce. Their invariable object in trade, is to acquire sudden wealth by large profit; and if that cannot be done, they abandon the pursuit for some new project. Certain of the market, and certain of the increasing supply, they will prescribe the price, both to those who cultivate, and to those who consume. Such will be the effect in peace.
In a war with Great Britain, the attention of her fleets to cut off supplies from her enemies, must necessarily affect the price of produce in a still greater degree; and in a war with France it will bear no price at all, until New Orleans shall be wrested from their grasp. Add to this the danger and the devastation from the troops of that country, aided by innumerable hosts of savages from the Western wilds. Such being the evident effects to be produced in times not far remote, the present evil follows from the anticipation of them. The price of land must be reduced, from the certainty that its produce will become less valuable. The flood of emigration to those fertile regions must cease to flow. The debts incurred in the hope of advantageous sales, must remain unpaid. The distress of the debtor must then recoil on his creditor, and, from the common relations of society, become general.
What will be the effect on the Southern States? Georgia, Carolina, and the Mississippi Territory are exposed to invasion from the Floridas and New Orleans. There are circumstances in that portion of America which render the invasion easy, and the defence difficult. Pensacola, though the climate be warm, is among the healthiest spots on earth. Not only a large garrison, but an army may remain there without hazard. At Pensacola and St. Augustine, forces may be assembled to operate in that season of the year, when the morasses which separate them from our southern frontier no longer breathe pestilence. By what are those armies to be opposed? Will you call the militia from the North to assist their Southern brethren? They are too remote. Will you secure their seasonable aid, bring them early to the fields they are ordered to defend? They must perish. The climate, more fatal than the sword, will destroy them before they see their foe. The country adjoining to our Southern frontier is now in possession of the most numerous tribes of savages we are acquainted with. The access to it from New Orleans and the Floridas is easy and immediate. The toys and gewgaws manufactured in France, will be scattered in abundance, to win their affections, and seduce them from their present connection. The talents of the French to gain the good will of the savages is well known, and the disposition of those uncultured men for war, is equally notorious. Here then is a powerful instrument of destruction, which may be used against you with ruinous effect. Besides, what is the population of the Southern States? Do you not tremble when you look at it? Have we not within these few days passed a law to prevent the importation of certain dangerous characters? What will hinder them from arriving in the Floridas, and what can guard the approach from thence to our Southern frontier? These pernicious emissaries may stimulate with a prospect of freedom the miserable men who now toil without hope. They may excite them to imitate a fatal example, and to act over those scenes which fill our minds with horror. When the train shall be laid; when the conspiracy shall be ripe; when the armies of France shall reach your frontier, the firing of the first musket will be a signal for general carnage and conflagration. If you will not see your danger now, the time must soon arrive when you shall feel it. The Southern States being exposed to such imminent danger, their Representatives may be made to know, that a vote given in Congress shall realize the worst apprehensions. You will then feel their danger even on this floor.
Let us now consider the consequence of the cession we complain of, to other nations, and this we may do generally, and then more especially as to those who have a direct and immediate interest in the transaction. In a general view, the first prominent feature is the colossal power of France. Dangerous to Europe and to the world, what will be the effect of a great increase of that power? Look at Europe! One half of it is blotted from the list of empire. Austria, Russia, Prussia, and Britain, are the only powers remaining, except Sweden and Denmark, and they are paralyzed. Where is Italy, Switzerland, Flanders, and all Germany west of the Rhine? Gone; swallowed up in the empire of the Gauls. Holland, Spain, Portugal, reduced to a state of submission and dependence. What is the situation of the powers that remain? Austria is cut off from Italy, the great object of her ambition for more than three centuries; long the rival of France, long balancing with the Bourbons the fate of Europe, she must now submit, and tacitly acknowledge to the world the superiority of her foe, and her own humiliation. Prussia, under the auspices of the Great Frederick, was at the head of a Germanic league to balance the imperial power. Though united with Austria for a moment in the hollow league of the coalition, she has, like Austria, been actuated by a blind jealousy, and favoring the operations of France for the ruin of her rival, expected to share largely in the general spoil. In this fond hope she is disappointed; she now sees the power of France at her door. There is not a fortress from the Rhine to the Baltic, except Magdeburgh, which the First Consul may leave on his left. The fertile plains near Leipsic contain the magazines for his armies when he shall think proper to march to Berlin. Westphalia and Lower Saxony are open on the side of Flanders and Holland. The Maine presents him a military road to the borders of Bohemia. By the Necker he approaches Ulm, and establishes himself on the Danube.[71] These rivers enable him to take the vast resources of his wide domain to the point where he may wish to employ them. Menacing at pleasure his neighbors, he is himself secured by a line of fortresses along his whole frontier. Switzerland, which was the only feeble point of his defence, and which separated his Gallic and Italian dominions, has lately been subjected. The voice you now hear, warned the Swiss of their fate more than eight years ago. The idea seemed then extravagant; but realized, it appears but as a necessary incident. Russia is deprived of her influence in Germany, and thereby of a principal instrument by which her policy might operate on the great powers of the South. The Germanic body is indeed in the hand of the First Consul. Three new Electors along the Rhine are under the mouths of his cannon. They dare not speak. Speak! None dare speak. They dare not think any thing inconsistent with his wishes. Even at their courtly feasts they sit like Damocles, destruction suspended over their heads by a single hair. Would you know the sentiment of England? Look at the debates. In the two Houses of Parliament they speak their fears. Such being the general sentiment of Europe, can it be supposed that they will view without anxiety a new extension of that power and dominion, the object of their hatred and apprehension?