It has been attempted to defend that rebellion, upon the doctrines of the American Declaration of Independence; but no countenance to it can be fairly derived from them. That declaration asserts, it is true, that whenever a government becomes destructive of the ends of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, for the security of which it was instituted, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and institute new government; and so undoubtedly it is. But this is a right only to be exercised in grave and extreme cases. ‘Prudence indeed will dictate,’ says that venerated instrument, ‘that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes.’ ‘But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, their duty, to throw off such government.’
Will it be pretended that the actual government of Rhode Island is destructive of life, liberty, or the pursuit of happiness? That it has perpetrated a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing the same invariable object, to reduce the people under absolute despotism? Or that any other cause of complaint existed, but such as might be peacefully remedied, without violence and without blood? Such as, in point of fact, the legitimate government had regularly summoned a convention to redress, but for the results of whose deliberations the restless spirit of disorder and rebellion had not patience to wait? Why, fellow-citizens, little Rhody (God bless and preserve her,) is one of the most prosperous, enterprising, and enlightened states in this whole union. No where are life, liberty, and property, more perfectly secure.
How is this right of the people to abolish an existing government,and to set up a new one, to be practically exercised? Our revolutionary ancestors did not tell us by words, but they proclaimed it by gallant and noble deeds. Who are the people that are to tear up the whole fabric of human society, whenever and as often as caprice or passion may prompt them? When all the arrangements and ordinances of existing and organized society are prostrated and subverted, as must be supposed in such a lawless and irregular movement as that in Rhode Island, the established privileges and distinctions between the sexes, between the colors, between the ages, between natives and foreigners, between the sane and the insane, and between the innocent and the guilty convict, all the offspring of positive institutions, are cast down and abolished, and society is thrown into one heterogenous and unregulated mass. And is it contended that the major part of this Babel congregation is invested with the right to build up, at its pleasure, a new government? That as often, and whenever society can be drummed up and thrown into such a shapeless mass, the major part of it may establish another, and another new government, in endless succession? Why, this would overturn all social organization, make revolutions—the extreme and last resort of an oppressed people—the commonest occurrences of human life, and the standing order of the day. How such a principle would operate, in a certain section of this union, with a peculiar population, you will readily conceive. No community could endure such an intolerable state of things any where, and all would, sooner or later, take refuge from such ceaseless agitation, in the calm repose of absolute despotism.
I know of no mode by which an existing government can be overthrown and put aside, and a new one erected in its place, but by the consent or authority of that government, express or implied, or by forcible resistance, that is, revolution.
Fellow-citizens, I have enumerated these examples of a dangerous spirit of disorganization, and disregard of law, with no purpose of giving offence, or exciting bitter and unkind feelings, here or elsewhere, but to illustrate the principles, character, and tendency of the two great parties into which this country is divided. In all of these examples, the democratic party, as it calls itself, (a denomination to which I respectfully think it has not the least just pretension,) or large portions of that party, extending to whole states, united with apparent cordiality. To all of them the whig party was constantly and firmly opposed. And now let me ask you, in all candor and sincerity, to say truly and impartially to which of these two parties can the interests, the happiness, and the destinies of this great people be most safely confided? I appeal especially, and with perfect confidence, to the candor of the real, the ancient, and long-tried democracy—that old republican party with whom I stood, side by side, during some of the darkest days of the republic, in seasons of both war and peace.
Fellow-citizens of all parties! The present situation of our country is one of unexampled distress and difficulty; but there is no occasion for any despondency. A kind and bountiful Providence has never deserted us; punished us he perhaps has, for our neglect of his blessings and our misdeeds. We have a varied and fertile soil, a genial climate and free institutions. Our whole land is covered, in profusion, with the means of subsistence and the comforts of life. Our gallant ship, it is unfortunately true, lies helpless, tossed on a tempestuous sea, amidst the conflicting billows of contending parties, without a rudder and without a faithful pilot. But that ship is our country, embodying all our past glory, all our future hopes. Its crew is our whole people, by whatever political denomination they are known. If she goes down, we all go down together. Let us remember the dying words of the gallant and lamented Lawrence. Don’t give up the ship. The glorious banner of our country, with its unstained stars and stripes, still proudly floats at its mast-head. With stout hearts and strong arms we can surmount all our difficulties. Let us all, all, rally round that banner, and firmly resolve to perpetuate our liberties and regain our lost prosperity.
Whigs! Arouse from the ignoble supineness which encompasses you; awake from the lethargy in which you lie bound; cast from you that unworthy apathy which seems to make you indifferent to the fate of your country. Arouse! awake! shake off the dew drops that glitter on your garments, and once more march to battle and to victory. You have been disappointed, deceived, betrayed; shamefully deceived and betrayed. But will you therefore also prove false and faithless to your country, or obey the impulses of a just and patriotic indignation? As for captain Tyler, he is a mere snap, a flash in the pan; pick your whig flints and try your rifles again.
[The conclusion of the speech was followed with general and tremendous cheering; and the largest, and one of the most respectable multitudes ever assembled in Kentucky, dispersed without a solitary instance of disorder or indecorum occurring.]