AVERSE as I am to
the continuance of a controversy with my colleagues on the subject of
Mississippi politics, I am not the less constrained to reply to a speech of my
colleague, from the third district, which I find printed in the Globe of the
19th of this month. I am wholly at a loss to account for the ill temper which
the speech exhibits. Surely there was nothing said by me to call forth such a
reply. One of my colleagues [Mr. Wilcox], when the "HOMESTEAD BILL"
was under debate, made a party speech, in which he represented, among other
things, that my friends in Mississippi were attempting to "sneak
back" into the Democratic party. It became my imperative duty to reply,
and I did so. My colleague rejoined, and here I supposed the matter might very
well have rested. But the gentleman [Mr. Freeman] returned from an excursion to
New York, and without the least provocation from me, took up the cudgel, and
proceeds to deliver himself of a speech full of acrimony; so full, indeed, that
one as familiar as I am with the productions of his usually cool head, could
hardly repress the conviction that a "torpid liver" must have
influenced the calmer impulses of his mind.
If he entered the
lists because he fancied that his friend had not successfully met my positions,
I not only forgive him, but confess myself flattered by his consideration.
"Thrice armed is he who hath his quarrel just;" and though my three
colleagues should all assail me, armed, trebly armed as I am in the justice of
my cause, I shall not despair of success against them all.
The gentleman tells
us, in the opening paragraphs of his speech, that the pious philanthropists at
the North have "decoyed, caught, and harbored some TWENTY-FIVE
OF THIRTY THOUSAND of our SLAVES, and that we never
expect to see them again." Precious confession! If the compromise,
fugitive slave bill and all, is going to be executed in good faith, as my
colleague and his Union friends assured the people of
Mississippi it would be, why should he thus abandon all hope of recovering
these "twenty-five or thirty thousand"
slaves? The truth is, that all my colleagues are very ready to lecture me for a
want of faith, but neither of them has the least confidence in the efficacy of
the compromise. The one [Mr. Freeman] has no expectation that we are to recover
our "twenty-five or thirty thousand slaves," and the other [Mr.
Wilcox], less desponding, and yet evidently in doubt, concludes his speech with
an earnest invocation to the North to do us justice. If the compromise were
executed in good faith, we should get back our slaves. But, like my colleague,
I "never expect to see them again." If the North has given us justice
in the compromise, why this invocation to their sense of justice now? The
honest truth is, that in our secret hearts we all know that justice has
not been done us, and we have little hope that it will be in future. We have
submitted to one wrong; will we submit to another? "We never expect to see
our slaves again." All that we now do, is to invoke justice for the future.
My colleague, though
he "never expects to see the slaves" that have been decoyed, caught,
and harbored" by the pious philanthropists," is yet full
of hope, in the conclusion of his speech, that we are to have peace in
future. I do not care to be impertinent, but I should like to know on what he
bases the hope that "decoying, catching, and harboring" slaves is
going to cease, and why it is that, despairing as he does of recovering the
slaves already taken from our possession, he is yet confident that we shall
recover those that are "decoyed, caught, and harbored" hereafter? At
his leisure, I shall be gratified to hear his answer. To my mind, we are as
likely to recover those already "decoyed," as we are to recover those
that are taken hereafter. I never expect to see the one or the other. The
fugitive slave bill has not been executed; and if by its execution is meant an
honest and faithful surrender of the slaves—such a surrender as is made of
every other species of estrayed or stolen property—it never will be.
My colleague
commenced his reply to me with an expression of his regret that he did not hear
my speech. It certainly would have gratified me had he given me his audience;
but as he did not, I should have been satisfied had he done me the honor to
read a printed copy of my speech. This I am sure he never could have done. I
know my colleague is a sensible man, and I hope he is just, and I am well
satisfied that no sensible and just man who had read my speech could ever have
published such a reply as that which I find printed by order of my colleague.
If my colleague's
speech had been delivered in the House, I should have thrown myself upon his
indulgence, and asked a portion of his allotted hour to correct his errors, as
one after another he fell into them. But as it suited him better to print his
speech without delivering it, I am left to no other alternative than that of
asking the indulgence of the committee whilst I make such responses to his
several allegations as in my judgment they merit.
It was an ungenerous
fling from my colleague to criticise my remarks as he did in the opening
paragraph of his speech. He thinks that upon such a question as that of
appropriating money to continue the work on the capitol, I might have said
something of the pressing necessities of the mechanics and laborers on these
works of the character of the work, &c. Now, the plain English of this is,
that I made a speech out of order, and that an act so unusual called for his
special animadversion. I am sorry the gentleman did not see at an earlier day
the necessity of sticking to the subject under debate. Three days before I
spoke, our colleague from the second district [Mr. Wilcox] made a speech, to
which the gentleman listened with infinite delight. The subject was "THE
HOMESTEAD BILL" of the gentleman from Tennessee [Mr. Johnson]. "Upon
such a topic we may have supposed that our colleague would have said something
of the pressing necessities" of the landless, the houseless, and the
homeless. "But, much to our surprise, he wandered off two thousand
miles," to bring up and discuss before us the state of parties in
Mississippi. The gentleman [Mr. Freeman] heard this speech. He enjoyed it.
"He rolled it under his tongue as a sweet morsel." It was
foreign to the subject under debate. It was out of order. It was in advance of
any single remark from me on the subject of Mississippi politics. But it was
from the political twin brother of my colleague, and therefore he had no word
of rebuke to utter. But no sooner do I rise to "vindicate the truth of
history" than my colleague rolls up his eyes in well-dissembled horror,
and begins a pious lecture on the "pressing necessities of the mechanics
and laborers whose work had been suspended." Why did not the gentleman
thus rebuke our colleague from the second district, when first he lugged these
foreign topics into the House of Representatives?
My colleague says,
"the secret of the gentleman's [my] speech is to be found in the fact that
the Union Democrats of Mississippi have called a state convention, and sent
delegates to the Baltimore Convention." I am not aware of any secret purpose
entertained by me in making that speech. It is upon its face my reply to a
colleague, and no one can read it without seeing that it could only have been
suggested by the speech to which it was a reply. Let me assure my colleague
that what he calls "a state convention of the Union Democrats
of Mississippi" has never given me a moment's uneasiness. I looked upon it
more in sorrow than in anger. It was a poor abortion at best; and the only
concern I ever felt in regard to it was, that it became the
"slaughter-house" of a few pure-minded and upright Democrats.
The gentleman says I
admitted "that the movement of my party was dead," and that "my
party was dead." Now, sir, I made no such admissions; said nothing from
which such an inference could have been drawn; and, if the gentleman shall ever
take the trouble to read the speech to which he wrote a reply without having
listened to its delivery, and without reading it after it was delivered, he
will see how grossly he has misstated what it contains.
I said the
"southern movement was dead;" and so it is; but I said explicitly
that it was not the movement of my friends or of my party. It was, I said, and
as I now repeat, the movement of all parties in the South—Whigs and Democrats,
Union men and State-Rights men. My party is not dead nor dying. It lives, and
moves, and has a being; and so long as there is true Democracy in the South, it
will continue to grow and flourish. It is the party of progress. It contains
all that is sound in the creed of the ancient fathers, and all that is pure and
original in that of the "Young Democracy." Its steps are guided by
the lights of past ages, and its course is onward and upward, to that destiny
which awaits the votaries of freedom in every land. It is, I repeat, neither
dead nor dying. Its glory was eclipsed in the late contest in our state, as the
glory of the National Democracy was eclipsed in 1840, and again in 1848. But
these things must pass away, even as the clouds pass over the face of a summer
sun. The gentleman and his party cannot blot out the glory of the TRUE
Democracy. Impotent attempt! As well might they strive to eclipse the true
glory of the sun with the light of a penny candle, as thus to throw discredit
upon the National Democracy, by their eternal cry of Union, Union. Theirs is a
feeble light at best. It burns dimly in Georgia and Mississippi, and throws a
sickly glimmer over a part of Alabama. Everywhere else it is lost in the
sun-like blaze of a National Democracy—a Democracy which is as broad as the
continent, and as athletic as Hercules. The democracy of my colleague and his
Union allies is of a feeble nature. It is constantly going into spasms about
the safety of the Union. Ours is of a different kind. It has no fears for the
safety of the Union. The Union is strong, and can defend itself. If it should
ever get into trouble, the National Democracy will be ready to give it a
helping hand. I had rather rely upon one friend of the Union, who would stand
by it in the hour of its peril, than a whole regiment of defenders who would go
into hysterics every time some mad-cap cried "SECESSION!"
My colleague says,
that after my return home in 1850, the compromise bills having passed, I made a
"violent harangue" in which I said: "So help me God, I am for
resistence; and my advice to you is that of Cromwell to his colleagues, “Pray
to God, and keep your powder dry." Here, again, my colleague blunders. I
made no "violent harangue" after my return home. It is true I made a
speech, but it was characterized by everything rather than violence. I had no
reason, at that time, to suppose that the speech did not meet the approbation
of my colleague. We were upon terms that would have justified him in
communicating any disapprobation he may have felt; and his failure to do so
left me under the impression that I had said nothing which shocked his
confidence in my devotion to the Union and the Constitution.
It is true that I
used the two expressions which my colleague attributes to me, but not in the
connection in which he employs them. I said, after the compromise bills had
passed, or after it became manifest that they would pass, "So help me God,
I am for resistance." I used that expression here, on this floor. I may
have employed it elsewhere. But is my colleague at all justified in concluding
that I used the term resistance as synonymous with secession?
Not at all, sir. When Jefferson, and Madison, and Randolph, and Nicholas, and
Clay, resisted the alien and sedition laws, were they for
secession? When Jackson resisted the bank charter, was he for
secession? When the whole Democracy of the nation resisted the
tariff of 1842, were they all seceders, traitors, and disunionists?
I used the term as it had been used from time immemorial as expressive of my
strong disapprobation of the compromise bills, and of my determination to
induce my constituents, if possible, to withhold from them the meed of their
approbation, and to refuse, as far as practicable, to allow them to become
precedents in the future legislation of the country. My constituents have never sanctioned the
compromise. They have never said it met their approbation;
and, in my judgment, they never will.
I used, in my speech
at home, after my return from Congress, the Cromwellian expression which ever
since has so much annoyed the peculiar guardians of the Union: "Pray to
God, but keep your powder dry." And it was as if I had said, "Hope for
the best, but be prepared for the worst." The true meaning of this
expression will be understood when I state, that on that occasion, as now, I
said appearances, in my judgment, are delusive. We have suffered much at the
hands of the North, and we have not seen the end. We are destined to suffer
much more. Some gentlemen say we have a final, and lasting, and eternal
settlement of the slavery question. I hope it may be so. But I am incredulous;
I would not cease to watch on such an assurance; I would hope for the best, but
be prepared for the worst. "I would pray to God, but keep my powder
dry."
The gentleman takes
up the message and general policy of Governor Quitman, and attempts to hold the
Democracy of Mississippi responsible for all he ever said and did. I will make
this bargain with my colleague: If he will undertake to be responsible for all
that Governor Foote has said and written, I will respond for the writings and
sayings of Governor Quitman. Secession, disunion, revolution, southern rights,
and similar terms, are as common along the path that General Foote made in the
congressional record as mile-posts on a turnpike; and yet the gentleman passes
over all these, and attacks Quitman's message. I leave others to decide whose
"platter is clean on the outside," and whose is "filled with
rottenness and dead men's bones." If my colleague's platter is
clean without or within, it has, to my mind, a marvellous strange way of
showing it.
The gentleman says
that on the day the message of Governor Quitman appeared, "the Union Democrats then
at the seat of government denounced it as treasonable to the nation, and they
so denounce it now."
The day that
Governor Quitman's message was delivered, there was assembled at the seat of
government (Jackson) a convention. It was not a Democratic convention; it was
not a Union Democratic convention; it was a convention in
which the Democrats stood to the Whigs as about one to five. This convention
denounced the governor's message, it is true. But I never heard before that the
voice of denunciation was that of the Union Democrats. I heard it at the time
as the voice of the Union party, and then, as now, I recognised it as the growl
of Whiggery.
But how came there
to be a convention at the seat of government? Was it called to deliberate on
the governor's message? Not at all. This could not be; for the convention was
composed of persons (chiefly Whigs) from all parts of the state, and it had
actually assembled and was in session at the very moment when the governor's
message was delivered. For what purpose did it assemble? Not, certainly, to
consider a message yet not made public, and the contents of which were as
little known to the members of that body before they assembled as to the people
of China. I judge of the purpose of its assemblage by what it did. It formed,
created, and brought into being the Union party. Mark you, it
was not the Union Democratic party. There was no "Democratic" about
it. It was the Union party; and it was formed outside of,
above, and beyond the Democratic party. It was an attempt to form a third
party. It failed; and then the ringleaders threw an anchor to the windward.
Then it was that, finding the National Whigs and National Democrats were
laughing at them, my colleague and his Union friends hung out the
"Democratic" banner. At first it was all Union; and when they found
the Union would not save them, they called themselves Union Democrats.
One of my colleagues
[Mr. Nabers] the other day asked, in the course of his speech, "What it
was that constituted party? Was it numbers or principles?" He said it was
numbers, and as there were numbers in Mississippi who avowed themselves
secessionists, he concluded there was a secession party there. My colleague's
premises are badly laid, and his conclusions do not follow his premises.
Numbers do not constitute party. It takes principles and numbers both to
constitute party; and it takes something else it takes the organization of numbers
on principle to constitute party. Whenever the gentleman shows that the
secession numbers in Mississippi were organized on the principle of
seceding from the Union, he will have shown that there was a secession party in
Mississippi. And then I will show that neither I nor my friends belonged to or
constituted a part of these numbers.
There are two, and
only two, political organizations in our state-the "Union party" and
the "Democratic State-Rights organization."I never heard of the Union Democratic
party until after the elections were over, and a convention was about to be
called to send delegates to Baltimore. The candidates in the state elections
were announced as Union candidates and Democratic State-Rights candidates. The
tickets were printed "Union tickets" and "Democratic
State-Rights tickets."
It is strange how a
sensible man hates to confess he has done a silly thing. I know my colleague
[Mr. Freeman] feels bad. He feels that he has been playing truant to the party
of which he professes to be a member. The best way to get out of it is to
confess his folly, quit all this tom-foolery about the Union, and settle down
again into a quiet, orderly citizen, and betake himself to the study of true
Democracy. I commend to him the consolation held out in the two lines:
"While the lamp holds out to burn
The vilest sinner may return.”
The gentleman
expresses some strange ideas about the anxiety of my friends and myself to get
into the Baltimore Convention. I must confess this part of his speech is all
jargon to me. "We have on the wedding garment,” — “our lamps are
trimmed," and I know of no reason for any anxiety on our part. We are
Democrats, and have always been. We appointed our delegates in the usual way,
and upon my word, I can see no reason to doubt that we shall take our seats
like other members of the family. So far as my colleague's remarks apply to me
personally, I can only say that I am not an appointed delegate; and in this he
and I are alike. He has been appointed by a Union convention, it is true. But I
take it, a Union convention has no more right to appoint
delegates to a Democratic convention, than the Pope of Rome would have to
appoint the pastor of a Methodist church.
One of the strangest
features in the gentleman's speech is, that the whole Democratic party of
Mississippi are secessionists, because certain county meetings and certain
newspapers promulgated secession doctrines and sentiments. Is my colleague
serious in this? If he is, I will show in ten seconds, by the same rule of
evidence, that he is a Whig. He proves that I am a secessionist, because the
Mississippian, Free-Trader, Sentinel, and other Democratic papers, used
expressions supposed to indicate, more or less, a disposition to secede.
Suppose I take up the Vicksburg Whig, Natchez Courier, Holly Springs Gazette,
and other Whig papers now in the service of the gentleman, and show that they
are for the Whig cause and Whig principles throughout—does not the gentleman,
by his own rule, thereby become a Whig? He does. And yet, sir, I do not pretend
to say that he is a Whig. Parties are to be judged by what they say and do in
their organic capacity, and not by the acts and speeches of individual members
of the party. Before a party can be justly held responsible for the acts and
speeches of any one or more of its members, it must be shown that such members
had authority to speak for the party. This can never be done when the
party in convention has spoken for itself. In such cases individual members
become responsible for their own expressions, and the party, as a whole, and each
member of it, is responsible for what the organic body, the convention, has
said. By this rule I am ready to see my party tried, and by it I mean to try
the gentleman and his party.
He introduces a
series of resolutions, which he says were passed by the convention which
nominated Governor Quitman. Numbers 5 and 6, as I find them in his speech, were
resolutions originally passed by a joint convention of both parties—Whigs and
Democrats—in our state. They were copied by our convention simply because they
had received the sanction of all parties, and were, therefore, not liable to
objection, as we supposed, from any quarter. The same resolutions had been
reaffirmed by the Union Convention, and now stand as a part of their platform.
Such at least is my recollection.
The resolution
number 12, as printed by my colleague, declares the admission of California
into the Union to be the "Wilmot proviso in another form." This
resolution, as my colleague knows very well, embodies the substance of a letter
written by the Mississippi delegation in the last Congress (including Governor
Foote) to Governor Quitman. I hope Governor Foote, and my colleague as his
supporter, will each take his share of the responsibility. I am willing to take
mine.
Next come a series
of resolutions passed by the Nashville Convention in June, 1850, and
incorporated into our platform in June, 1851. These resolutions were passed at
Nashville, when Judge Sharkey was presiding—when the convention was full of
what is now called Union men—and they received the deliberate sanction of them
all. They were approved at the time by Governor Foote and by my colleague, and
if they afterwards denounced them, the most they can say of us who sustained
them is, that we stuck to what we said a little longer than they did.
But my colleague
thus speaks of this very Nashville Convention and its acts, in the speech to
which I am now replying. He says: "For the first session of
the Nashville Convention, all parties were and are responsible. I take my own
share of it." Why, sir, these resolutions were passed by the first session
of this convention. And again: To this convention the gentleman attributes the
success of the compromise, and the defeat of the Wilmot proviso. He takes his
share of the responsibility, and yet he quarrels with us because we incorporate
a part of its wonderful works into our platform. If these works had done the
mighty things he attributes to them, he might at least have spared them the
bitter denunciation he has heaped upon them.
This disposes of our
resolutions so far as I find them copied in my colleague's speech, with but a
single exception, and that is an immaterial one. Here it is:
16. "Resolved, That
it is a source of heartfelt congratulation that the true friends of the
Constitution and of the rights and honor of the South, of whatever party
name, are now united in a common cause, and can act together with cordiality and sincerity."
And here is my
colleague's commentary on it:
“‘What a beautiful specimen
of old line Democracy,’ ‘Black spirits and white, blue spirits and gray.’”
When before was it
doubted that the "old line Democracy" "were the true friends of
the Constitution?" When before were the true friends of the South sneered
at as "black spirits and white, blue spirits and gray?" When before
was it considered a matter of reproach that the friends of the Constitution and
of the South acted together with cordiality? I leave my colleague to answer.
The gentleman is at
great pains to leave the impression on the minds of those who shall read his
speech, that the Democratic party of Mississippi approved of and made a part of
its creed the address, or resolutions, or some other of the proceedings of the
second session of the Nashville Convention. Now, sir, I say emphatically, that
he is mistaken. We never did, as a party, in any manner, shape, or form, by
resolution or otherwise, endorse, approve, or sanction the proceedings of
the second session of that body. He admits his own and his
party's responsibility for the first session, but attacks
the second session of the Nashville Convention. The
second was but a continuation of the first. The gentleman's party never
endorsed the acts of this second session, nor did mine. For
the proceeding of the JUNE Nashville Convention, my friends and myself made
ourselves responsible. But if my colleague shall show that we made ourselves
responsible for the acts of the NOVEMBER session of that body, he will show
what I have not yet seen.
My colleague argues
that the Union movement grew out of the doctrines contained in the Quitman
message, and the acts and resolutions of the second session of the Nashville
Convention; so, at least, I understand him. The Union movement in Mississippi
could not have grown out of that message, nor could it in any way have been
influenced by the second session of the convention at Nashville. The Union
party was organized at a mass Union meeting in Jackson, on the 18th November,
1850. On that day the governor's message was delivered to
the legislature, and on that day the convention assembled
at Nashville, Tennessee-four hundred miles off. The Union mass meeting was not,
therefore, assembled to deliberate upon the one or the other of these things.
Of both, the members of that body were profoundly ignorant at the time of their
assemblage. The Union party was organized by this mass meeting. It held a
convention in April, 1851, and under the style of "Union men," put
its candidates in the field. The "Democratic State-Rights party" met
in June, 1851, and made its nominations, calling them "Democratic State-Rights
men."
Our position in the
canvass was, that a state had the abstract right to secede from the Union, and
to do it peaceably. For taking this position, we have been denounced as
secessionists and disunionists, although we declared, in the same sentence in
which we asserted the right, that it was "the last resort, the final
alternative, and that we opposed its present exercise."
What was the
position of my colleague and his party? They designated six distinct acts, the
doing of any one of which would justify resistance, and among these
was the repeal of the fugitive slave law, or its material modification. My
colleague, I believe, endorsed, and perhaps yet endorses, the Georgia platform.
It declares that "Georgia will resist, even to a disruption of every tie
that binds her to the Union, the repeal of the fugitive slave bill;" and
further, that, in her judgment. "the perpetuity of our much-loved
Union depends upon the faithful execution of that law."
When I say I am for
resistance, my colleague says I mean secession, or disunion. And pray, sir,
when he says that he is for resistance, what does he mean? He will not secede,
but he will resist if the fugitive slave law is repealed. Yes,
sir, he will resist, even to a disruption of every tie that binds him to the
Union; but he will not secede. He will perpetrate no such "abominable
heresy" as peaceable secession. He will resist, he will
sever the ties that bind him to the Union; but he will not do it peaceably—that
is a heresy too abominable to be thought of. Well, sir, there is no disputing
about tastes; but, I must confess, if it shall ever become necessary to
"sever the ties," as I trust it never may, I shall prefer to see it
done peaceably.
If language means
anything, the gentleman's party in Mississippi was about as far committed to
secession, by their resolutions, as was my party. I shall hold myself
responsible for the resolutions of my party in general convention, and I ask
the gentleman to assume no higher degree of responsibility himself.
My colleague
complains that a Democratic senate in Mississippi elected a Whig (Judge Guion)
to preside over it. This was not the first time that such an event had
happened, and therefore it was not even singular. In the palmiest days of
Jacksonism, Colonel Bingaman, an old-fashioned John Quincy Adams Whig, was
elected both Speaker of the House and President of the Senate; and I heard
nothing said against it. It caused no political convulsion in the state. Men
and parties moved on just as they did before. It was a tribute to his high
character and exalted worth as a gentleman and a native Mississippian. A
Democratic Senate did the same thing for Guion, than whom Mississippi boasts no
more noble, generous, and talented son. If Democratic senators were willing to
waive their claims to the president's chair, and the Democratic party made no
objection to Guion's election, pray, sir, who else had a right to complain?
But, says the gentleman, "When the Whig president was elected, the
secession governor (Quitman) resigned, and placed that Whig president of the
senate in the office of governor." I can appreciate my colleague's
"affliction of soul' at the accession of a Whig to the gubernatorial
chair; but I hope he may find consolation in the fact, that the Whigs have
done him some service in their day and generation.
My colleague cannot,
I am sure, mean to convey the idea that Quitman resigned with a view of
conferring the office of governor on Judge Guion. My colleague is very familiar
with the facts attending Governor Quitman's resignation. He knows how he was
charged with participating in the first Lopez expedition
to Cuba. He knows that whilst others, who confessed to have been
at Cardenas, were permitted to visit this city,
and to travel everywhere, without molestation, Quitman was hunted like a common
felon, and finally forced to resign the office of governor. He knows, too, that
when he presented himself in New Orleans, and demanded a trial, the prosecution
was instantly abandoned. All this my colleague knows. There is
abasement enough in it for our state, God knows, without making the resignation
of the governor the pretext for further charges.
The gentleman speaks
of a "standing army," projected by Governor Quitman, and recommended
by him to the legislature. And this, he says, was a part of the "secession
scheme." I have heard of this "standing army" before, and I will
exhibit the monster in all its proportions. Some years back, when the gentleman
was attorney-general, and I was governor of Mississippi, the subject of
reorganizing the militia was discussed. It may have escaped the recollection of
my colleague, but it has not mine, that we concurred in the opinion, that the
militia system of the state was a nuisance. Accordingly, in preparing the
executive message, I brought the subject to the attention of the legislature;
but nothing was done. My successor, Governor Matthews, took up the subject, and
pressed it on the attention of the legislature; but with no better success.
When Governor Quitman came into power, he took it up where Governor Matthews
and myself had left it, and, like ourselves, he failed in getting the favorable
action of the legislature.
I always regarded
this "standing army" as one of the humbugs of the campaign. I had the
fullest confidence in the wisdom and patriotism of Governor Quitman, and I
confess, therefore, never to have examined critically his scheme for
reorganizing the militia. But if I am not mistaken, it will be seen by
reference to the record, that he was following out substantially the positions
taken by me, and which I had no reason to suppose met the disapprobation of my
present colleague and the late attorney-general of Mississippi.
If there was not
much more in this "standing army" than I have supposed, it is mine; I
claim it by right of invention. It was my squadron; I first put it in the
field. But as the relations of Mississippi with the Federal government were at
the time of a most pacific character, not extending beyond a dispute about a
very small fraction of the two per cent. fund, and as the Compromise had not
been heard of, I hope to escape the imputation of harboring hostile designs
against our venerable relative, "Uncle Sam."
The whole extent,
body and breeches, of the "standing army," as I understand it, is
this: It was an attempt to substitute an organized corps of volunteers for the
ridiculous and troublesome militia trainings that are now required by law. In
what precise terms it was presented by Governor Quitman, I say again, I do not
know. But this is the monster as I have seen him in all his huge proportions.
The gentleman next
charges that Colonel Tarpley, a Democrat, was ruled off, and
Governor Guion, a Whig, recommended for chancellor of
Mississippi. It so happens that there was no ruling off in the case. Both
gentlemen agreed to submit their pretensions to an informal meeting of mutual
friends. Those friends advised Colonel Tarpley to withdraw, and, like a true
man and a Democrat, he did it. One would naturally conclude that my colleague,
from his manner of speaking about this transaction, would have voted for
Colonel Tarpley, the Democrat, if he had continued in the canvass. But I tell
you he would have done no such thing. He had already made up his mind to vote
for Charles Scott, another Whig. His party had him in the field, and they all
voted for him, and, what is more, with a little help from our side they elected
him. When my colleague votes for a Whig himself, he takes no account of it. It
is all very natural that he should do so. But if I, or my friends, do the same
thing, then it is all wrong. My colleague, in all this, seems to admit
that we are the old liners, "the salt of the party," and it grieves
him to see us going astray. I thank him for the admonition. True men should be
always circumspect. More latitude may be allowed those to whom no one looks for
examples of fidelity to the party.
In extenuation of
this atrocious charge, so vehemently laid against my party and
myself, of having voted for a Whig chancellor, I may mention a few facts. For
twenty years, the people of Mississippi have elected their own judges, and in
no single instance within my knowledge has a judge ever been chosen on party
grounds until it was done by the Union party. It stands to the everlasting
credit of our people that they did, with Roman firmness, withstand for twenty
years all the appeals of the politicians to mix up politics with the
administration of justice. Judge Sharkey was again and again elected from a
Democratic district, though he was always a Whig. Judge Posey, though a
Democrat, has presided with dignity and ability for a long time in a Whig
district. Judge Miller, a Whig, was elected and re-elected in the strongest
Democratic district in the state. It is not to the credit of the Union men that
they departed from this time-honored usage. And I think the example they have
set us will be "more honored in the breach than in the observance."
The gentleman
intimates, that after the September election of 1851 had resulted adversely to
my party I changed my policy, and by a timely retreat saved myself from defeat.
No one knows better than my colleague that such an insinuation is grossly
unjust. After the result of the September election was known, and when the
Union party was fuller of exultation than it ever was before or since, and in
the midst of their rejoicings, I published an address to the people of my
district. A few short extracts from this address will show how much I quailed
before the frowns of a party flushed with victory. This publication was made to
vindicate myself against the slanders of my enemies. I said:
“‘There are my
speeches and there my votes; I stand by and defend them. You say for these
my country will repudiate me. I demand a trial of the issue.’
This was my language in the first speech made by me after my return from
Washington. I repeat it now. I said then, as I say now, that the charge laid
against me that I was, or ever had been, for disunion or secession,
was and is FALSE and SLANDEROUS.”
If I stood by my
votes and speeches, and defended them to the last, in what is the evidence of
my faltering to be found? I submit the concluding paragraphs of this address:
"In the
approaching election, I asked the judgment of my constituents on my past
course. I claim no exemption from the frailties common to all mankind. That I
have erred is possible, but that the interests of my constituents have suffered
from my neglect, or that I have intentionally done any act or said anything to
dishonor them in the eyes of the world, or to bring discredi upon our common
country, is not true. In all that I have said or done, my aim has been for the
honor, the happiness, and the true glory of my state.
"I opposed the
Compromise with all the power I possessed. I opposed the admission of
California, the division of Texas, the abolition of the slave trade in the
District of Columbia, and I voted against the Utah bill. I need scarcely say
that I voted for the Fugitive Slave bill, and aided, as far as I could, in its
passage. I opposed the Compromise.
"I thought,
with Mr. Clay, that 'it gave almost everything to the North, and to the South
nothing but her honor.'
"I thought,
with Mr. Webster, that the 'South got what the North lost and that was nothing
at all.'
"I thought,
with Mr. Brooks, that the 'North carried everything before her.' "I
thought with Mr. Clemens, that there was no equity to redeem the outrage.'
"I thought, with Mr. Downs, that 'it was no compromise at all.'
"I thought,
with Mr. Freeman, 'that the North got the oyster and we got the shell.'
"I thought, at
the last, what General Foote thought at the first, that 'it contained none of
the features of a genuine Compromise.'*
"And finally,
and last, I voted against it, and spoke against it, BECAUSE it unsettled the
balance of power between the two sections of the Union, inflicted an injury
upon the South, and struck a blow at that political equality of the states and
of the people, on which the Union is founded, and without a maintenance of
which the Union cannot be preserved.
"I spoke
against it, and voted against it, in all its forms. I was against it as
an omnibus, and I was against it in its details. I fought it
through from Alpha to Omega, and I would do so again. I denounced it before the
people, and down to the last hour I continued to oppose it. The people have
decided that the state shall acquiesce, and with me that decision is final. I
struggled for what I thought was the true interest and honor of my
constituents, and if for this they think me worthy of condemnation, I am ready
for the sacrifice. For opposing the Compromise, ise. I have no apologies or
excuses to offer; I did that which my conscience told me was right, and the
only regret I feel is that my opposition was not more availing."
This is what the
gentleman calls meek and lowly submission. These were my positions on the day
of my election; they were the positions of my entire party; they are our
positions now; we submitted to nothing but the voice of our state. Then, as
now, when Mississippi speaks we are ready to obey; the state had a right to
decide for herself what, if anything, was necessary in vindication of her
honor. She made that decision, and of it I thus spoke in the address from which
I have been reading.
"I opposed and
denounced the Compromise, but I did not thereby make myself a disunionist.
I thought in the beginning that it inflicted a
positive injury upon the South, and I think so now. This opinion is well
settled, and is not likely to undergo any material change. I gave
my advice freely, but never obtrusively, as to the course which I thought the
state ought to pursue. That advice has not been taken. Mississippi has decided
that submission to or acquiescence in the compromise measures is her true
policy. As a citizen, I bow to the judgment of my state. I WISH HER JUDGMENT
HAD BEEN OTHERWISE—but from her decision I ask no appeal."
After this
publication was made, my colleague and General Foote both visited my district
with special reference to my defeat. Others traversed it. The newspapers became
more reckless than ever. Slander upon slander was "piled up like Pelion
upon Ossa, until the very heavens cried for quarters." But all to no
effect. And now we have the sickly excuse rendered, that I turned
"submissionist." The charge is entitled to my pity and contempt, and
I give them both without stint and without grudging.
The gentleman speaks
of my willingness to beg my way into the Baltimore Convention. In this he is
about as accurate as in his other statements. So far from begging my way into
the Baltimore Convention, I have expressly declined going in at all. I wrote to
my party friends at home requesting not to be named as a delegate. I did so
because our party had, years ago, from proper motives, determined to exclude
members of Congress from presidential conventions, and I wanted no departure
from the rule in my case. If the gentleman means that I am begging for the
admission of my friends, he is again mistaken. I know the strength of the true
Democracy of Mississippi. We polled within a thousand of a majority at the last
election, and we can poll many more at another trial. And I suppose the
nominees at Baltimore and their friends will be quite as anxious to receive our
votes as we will be to give them. This, however, was one of the gentleman's
ill-tempered flings, to which a reply is hardly necessary. No man of sound judgment,
not carried away by passion, can suppose that there will be any more question
about the admission of the delegates from Mississippi than from any other
state. I have not canvassed the question, because I never supposed that it
admitted of a doubt in any man's mind, except that of the gentleman himself,
and his friend Governor Foote.
The gentleman thinks
it singular that I should expect to enter the Baltimore Convention with
opinions not altogether in harmony with the sentiments of Democrats elsewhere.
Let us see how much there is in all this. Let us see in what my views
"differ from the great body of the National Democracy." And let us
inquire whether these differences of opinion have not been tolerated on former
occasions. There are three classes of Democrats: Federal Democrats, Union Democrats,
and State-Rights Democrats. And the question on which we differ is this:
"What redress has a state, suffering intolerable oppression from the
Federal government?" or, "What remedy has a state for a violation of
the compact between herself and the Federal government?" It will be
observed that the question is one which each state must, of necessity, decide
for itself. And every individual will decide it for himself according to his
federal or republican proclivities. A Federal Democrat would
say that a state should submit, under any and all circumstances. A Union
Democrat would advise revolution, and he would, I suppose, lead a
rebel army; but where to, and against whom, God only knows. A State-Rights
Democrat would advocate peaceable secession. But we all agree that each
state must be left free to shape its own policy. No one would think of
consulting the Federal government, or the National Executive, as to what a
state should do in such a case. National parties and national conventions have
nothing to do with state policy, and have no right to instruct a state as to
"the mode and measure of redress" in cases of "infractions of
the compact." It follows, therefore, that the Baltimore Convention can
have nothing to do with the policy of Mississippi; and if it shall assume to
tell her what are her rights as a member of the Confederacy, it will transcend
its authority, and its act, in this regard, will be null and void. The
Baltimore Convention will commit no such folly. It is a question of state
policy, with which national parties, national Executives, and national
conventions, have no concern. Now let us see whether, in days gone by, the
Democracy of Mississippi has been required to submit its local or
state policy to the supervision of a national convention.
Three times the
Democracy of Mississippi has shaped the policy of that state without consulting
the Democracy of other states. Twenty years ago, the Democracy of Mississippi
determined to elect judges by the people. It was a bold innovation. New York,
Pennsylvania, and other states, laughed at our temerity. But New York,
Pennsylvania, and other states, have followed our example.
Fifteen years ago,
Mississippi Democracy set its face against banks and banking. Under the lead of
McNutt every bank in the state was swept away. We took the lead. The Democracy
of other states hesitated, and finally refused to follow.
Twelve years ago,
the Democracy of our state declared against paying certain BONDS, issued in the
name of the state, and bearing its seal. The Democracy of other states was
horror-stricken; but we had our own way.
In no one of these
cases had we the support or countenance of the National Democracy; and in all
of them there were bolters from the party, who denounced it, as my colleague
now denounces us. When we resolved to elect judges by the people, they called
us anarchists and levellers. When we made war upon the banks, we were Jacobins
and Red Republicans. When we were opposing the bonds, they denounced us as
repudiators and public plunderers. The true Democracy of Mississippi survived
the gibes and taunts of its enemies in those days; and it will survive the
denunciations of the gentleman and his associates now. We settled all these
cases without losing our identity with the National Democracy, and without
consulting its wishes. And we never failed to meet them on national questions,
in national conventions; and we shall not fail now. We shall not dictate what
others are to do in vindication of their rights, nor will we tolerate dictation
from others as to how we shall defend our own.
The gentleman,
strangely enough, misunderstands what I said respecting General Foote's being
at one time a Whig. He speaks of Colonel Fall, Colonel Miller, and other
Democrats, having represented the Whig county of Hinds. In this he misses the
point. These gentlemen were all elected as Democrats. It was a high tribute to
their worth, to be elected from a strong Whig county; yet it caused great labor
and extraordinary diligence on the part of their friends. General Foote had an
easier time of it. He run [sic]
as a Whig. He was elected as a Whig. He served as a Whig.
As a member from Hinds county he voted, as the journals show, for a Whig United
States senator. I hope I am now more clearly understood.
I should never have
introduced the name of General Foote into this debate, if it had not become
necessary in vindication of Governor Quitman. I commend to my colleague a
homely adage, "that those who live in glass houses should not throw
stones."
My colleague
"thanks God" that his party had in its ranks "many gallant and
patriotic Whigs." It may be all a matter of taste, but it seems to me it
would have been more appropriate if he had returned his thanks to another
quarter. I can hardly think it was a celestial influence that made the
"gallant and patriotic Whigs of Mississippi" the followers of my
colleague. But I discern in this part of the gentleman's speech two things
worthy of commendation—gratitude and common sense. It is
right that he should, in this or in some other way, manifest his gratitude to
those who elected him. And it indicates good common sense to retain, as far as
he can, the good opinion of his Whig friends. It is very certain that they will
be needed in another election, if my colleague should be a candidate.
It may be that my
colleague has captured a large number of Whigs, and means to march them into
the Democratic camp. I have heard such an intimation. If it turns out to be
true, I hope he will post his captives in the rear, and not in
the front of our line. And I would particularly caution him against giving them
commissions and high rank, until he is certain they will be faithful to our
flag. It is not safe to make commanders of those too recently taken from the
ranks of the enemy. They may betray us in the hour of trial; or, from the force
of habit, turn their arms against us. Besides, the old veterans in our ranks
may object to following these captive commanders. Senator
Brooke, for example, is an excellent Whig, and, for aught I know, he is a very
good Union Democrat; but I know many an "old liner" who would not
like to follow his lead in a presidential campaign.
My colleague is
sensitive when allusion is made to an existing connection between the Whigs
and Union Democrats. He has reason to be. The success of the
Union party in Mississippi has given the Whigs more offices and more patronage
than they have enjoyed for many years. If the gentleman means well towards the
Democratic party, he cannot but regret that, through the instrumentality of his
party friends, the most influential and important places in the state have been
given to the Whigs. It is due to the Whigs for me to say, they have selected
men of high character, and such as will be likely to make their present
official positions felt in future elections. I honor them for their sagacity.
My colleague introduces
a silly story about my settling in the Democratic county of Copiah, and being soon
after sent to the legislature, and about my meeting a former Whig friend,
who inquired how it was that the Democrats of Copiah sent
a Whig to the legislature; and some other twaddle of the same
sort. The story, if it had any purpose, was intended to leave the impression
that I had at one time been a Whig. I am sorry that my position in Mississippi
has been so humble that it has failed to attract the attention of the gentleman.
He is entirely ignorant of my personal history, else he never could have
retailed second-hand, and much less have coined, such a story. Instead of my
settling in Copiah, and being soon after sent to the
legislature, I went there with my father when I was eight years old, and have
resided there ever since, except when absent in the public service. At the
early age of twenty-one, I was sent to the legislature as a Democrat, and at
each succeeding election, from then until now, I have been a candidate. I have
invariably run as a Democrat, and have never suffered defeat. There is not an
old Democrat in my congressional district, and scarcely one in the state, that
could not contradict the implied declaration of the gentleman, that I had been
a Whig. If the story was meant for wit, it was flat; if intended for effect, it
was simply ridiculous. My colleague need not concern himself about my position,
nor his own. I have been in the party all the time. He has the right to return,
and, like a truant boy who had been a day from school, take his place at the
foot of the class. I hope he will do it without grumbling.
The gentleman speaks
of the "so-called Democratic State-Rights Convention,"
to send delegates to the Baltimore Convention. As usual, he mistakes the facts.
There was no call of a "Democratic State-Rights
Convention" in Mississippi to send delegates to the Baltimore Convention.
The call was for a "DEMOCRATIC CONVENTION." It was made as such calls
have usually been made, through the central organ of the party—the
Mississippian. The gentleman errs again in saying, "it was simply an
editorial article." It was a call made in the usual way and through the
usual channel, and upon consultation with the oldest, longest tried, and most
substantial members of the party residing at and near the seat of government.
The call embraced the whole party, without reference
to past differences; and it was responded to by the party generally in
Mississippi. Soon after the appearance of this call, several members of the
"Compromise Convention," then at Jackson, issued a call for a "Union Democratic
Convention;" thus marking, in distinct terms, their resolution not to
unite with the great body of the party. It is worthy of remark in this
connection, that the gentlemen calling this convention used the term
"Union Democratic Convention." And it was the first time within my
recollection that this term ever was used in Mississippi to designate an
organized party. I had heard of "Union Whigs" and "Union
Democrats," but it applied to individuals only. When the party, the organization,
was spoken of, it was called the "Union party." That is my
recollection.
I repeat, sir, the
DEMOCRATIC convention in our state which appointed delegates to the Baltimore
Convention, was called as a Democratic convention, and not as
a "so-called Democratic State-Rights convention." But why should my
colleague have such a horror of "State-Rights?" Is he not a
State-Rights man? He may think that an oppressed state has no right but the
right of submission, or revolution, and that if she judges for herself of
"infractions of the compact," and of the "mode and measure of
redress," the federal government may reduce her and
hold her as a conquered province. This may be
his notion of state rights. But I recollect that in 1841 (and
I appeal to the public newspapers in Mississippi for the correctness of my
recollection) the gentleman ran on the "Democratic State-Rights
ticket" for attorney-general in our state. He had no horror of state rights then.
In that year the term "Democratic" meant the right of the people to
rule, and "State Rights" meant the right of the state to reject the
payment of an unjust demand for money. Our opponents said, I know, that
Democratic State Rights meant repudiation. My colleague won his
first laurels in this celebrated campaign. In 1851, ten years after, he hoisted
the "Democratic State-Rights banner" again. Democratic meant,
as in 1841, the right of the people to rule, and state rights meant the right
of a state, in the language of the Kentucky resolutions, "to judge of
infractions of the federal compact, and of the mode and measure of
redress." But the gentleman refused to fight under this banner, and he now
denounces it as emblematic of treason, civil war, bloodshed, strife, and all
the horrors known to man. I hope he will not get out of temper if we tell him
that some of us think differently, and that we mean to enjoy our opinions.
The gentleman says
the Union Democratic Convention of Mississippi appointed "seven delegates
to the Baltimore Convention." That "the Union men of the South hold
the presidential election in the palms of their hands." They demand thus
and so, and if the convention does not comply with these demands, "it had
better never assemble." Wake snakes and come
to judgment the times are big with the fate of nations.
"The Union party of the South holds the presidency in its hands,"
even as the Almighty holds the universe. It stamps its foot, and the earth
trembles. It speaks, and the sun stands still, as at the bidding of Joshua.
Seriously, I hope "the seven men in buckram" from
Mississippi do not contemplate upsetting the universe, even if the Baltimore
Convention should refuse some of their demands.
I have treated these
domestic squabbles at greater length than their importance may seem to justify.
I have treated them fairly, I think, and I hope in good temper. I set out with
a determination not to be provoked by the ungenerous assaults of my colleague,
and I have kept that resolve steadily in view. I am now done.
The controversy
between my colleagues and myself has not been of my seeking. Our constituents
did not send us here to fight again the campaign battles of Mississippi. And if
I had been left alone to pursue the inclinations of my own mind, I never should
have introduced the subject of Mississippi politics on this floor. The subject
is foreign to the business of legislation on which we have been sent, and ought
never to have been introduced here. But when my colleagues combined, as I
thought, to make up a record prejudicial to my party-friends, prejudicial
"to the truth of history," and calculated to fix on the mind of the
country and of after ages, a wrong impression as to the principles, objects,
ends, and aims of my friends, I should have been false to those friends, false
to the truth of history, false to the reader of these debates in after times,
if I had not interposed.
They have made their
showing—I have made mine; and I submit the issue to the impartial arbitrament
of the country and of posterity, without one shadow of doubt that justice will
be awarded to us all. I ask nothing more, and will be content with nothing
less.
* General Foote, in
speaking of Mr. Clay's compromise resolutions, said: "I shall always be
unable to see in his resolutions, any of the features of a genuine compromise."
The allusion is to this expression.
SOURCE: M. W.
Cluskey, Editor, Speeches, Messages, and Other Writings of the Hon.
Albert G. Brown, A Senator in Congress from the State of Mississippi, pp.
261-72
