AMERICAN QUARTERLY REVIEW. (continued 6)

The last formal address delivered by Mr. Webster on any great public occasion, was unexpectedly called from him in the summer of 1826, in commemoration of the services of Adams and Jefferson;—an occasion so remarkable, that what was said and felt on it, will not pass out of the memories of the present generation. We shall, therefore, only make one short extract from Mr. Webster's address at Faneuil Hall—the description of the peculiar eloquence of Mr. Adams, in giving which, the speaker becomes, himself, a living example of what he describes.

"The eloquence of Mr. Adams resembled his general character, and formed, indeed, a part of it. It was bold, manly, and energetic; and such the crisis required. When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing is valuable, in speech, farther than it is connected with high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities which produce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labour and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be marshalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire after it—they cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments, and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and their country, hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself, then feels rebuked, and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then, patriotism is eloquent; then, self-devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his object—this, this is eloquence; or rather it is something greater and higher than all eloquence, it is action, noble, sublime, god-like action." page 84.

During a part, however, of the period, over which we have thus very slightly passed, Mr. Webster was again in public life. He was elected to represent the city of Boston, in the seventeenth Congress, and took his seat there in December, 1823. Early in the session, he presented a resolution in favour of appointing a commissioner or agent to Greece; and the resolution being taken up on the 19th of January following, Mr. Webster delivered the speech, which usually passes under the name of "the Greek Speech." His object, however, in presenting the resolution, did not seem, at first, to be well understood. It was believed, that, seeing the existence of a warm public sympathy for the suffering Greeks, and solicited by the attractions of the subject itself, and of the classical associations awakened by it, his object was to parade a few sentences and figures, and so make an oration or harangue, which might usher him, with some éclat, a second time, upon the theatre of public affairs. The galleries, therefore, were thronged with a brilliant and fashionable audience. But the crowd was destined to be disappointed;—Mr. Webster, after a graceful and conciliating introduction, in which he evidently disclaimed any such purpose, addressed himself at once to the subject, and made, what he always makes, a powerful, but a downright business speech. His object, instead of being the narrow one suggested for him, was apparent, as he advanced, to be the broadest possible. It was nothing less, than to take occasion of the Greek revolution, and the conduct pursued in regard to it by the great continental powers, in order to exhibit the principles laid down and avowed by those powers, as the basis on which they intended to maintain the peace of Europe. In doing this, he went through a very able examination of the proceedings of all the famous Congresses, beginning with that of Paris, in 1814, and coming down to that of Laybach, in 1821;—the principles of all which were, that the people hold their fundamental rights and privileges, as matter of concession and indulgence from the sovereign power; and that all sovereign powers have a right to interfere and controul other nations, in their desires and attempts to change their own governments:—

"The ultimate effect of this alliance of sovereigns, for objects personal to themselves, or respecting only the permanency of their own power, must be the destruction of all just feeling, and all natural sympathy, between those who exercise the power of government, and those who are subject to it. The old channels of mutual regard and confidence are to be dried up, or cut off. Obedience can now be expected no longer than it is enforced. Instead of relying on the affections of the governed, sovereigns are to rely on the affections and friendship of other sovereigns. They are, in short, no longer to be nations. Princes and people no longer are to unite for interests common to them both. There is to be an end of all patriotism, as a distinct national feeling. Society is to be divided horizontally; all sovereigns above, and all subjects below; the former coalescing for their own security, and for the more certain subjection of the undistinguished multitude beneath." page 249.

But, as he says afterwards,—

"This reasoning mistakes the age. The time has been, indeed, when fleets, and armies, and subsidies, were the principal reliances even in the best cause. But, happily for mankind, there has arrived a great change in this respect. Moral causes come into consideration, in proportion as the progress of knowledge is advanced; and the public opinion of the civilized world is rapidly gaining an ascendency over mere brutal force. It is already able to oppose the most formidable obstruction to the progress of injustice and oppression; and, as it grows more intelligent and more intense, it will be more and more formidable. It may be silenced by military power, but it cannot be conquered. It is elastic, irrepressible, and invulnerable to the weapons of ordinary warfare. It is that impassable, unextinguishable enemy of mere violence and arbitrary rule, which, like Milton's angels,

"Until this be propitiated or satisfied, it is vain for power to talk either of triumphs or of repose. No matter what fields are desolated, what fortresses surrendered, what armies subdued, or what provinces overrun. In the history of the year that has passed by us, and in the instance of unhappy Spain, we have seen the vanity of all triumphs, in a cause which violates the general sense of justice of the civilized world. It is nothing, that the troops of France have passed from the Pyrenees to Cadiz; it is nothing that an unhappy and prostrate nation has fallen before them; it is nothing that arrests, and confiscation, and execution, sweep away the little remnant of national resistance. There is an enemy that still exists to check the glory of these triumphs. It follows the conqueror back to the very scene of his ovations; it calls upon him to take notice that Europe, though silent, is yet indignant; it shows him that the sceptre of his victory is a barren sceptre; that it shall confer neither joy nor honour, but shall moulder to dry ashes in his grasp. In the midst of his exultation, it pierces his ear with the cry of injured justice, it denounces against him the indignation of an enlightened and civilized age; it turns to bitterness the cup of his rejoicing, and wounds him with the sting which belongs to the consciousness of having outraged the opinion of mankind.

"In my own opinion, Sir, the Spanish nation is now nearer, not only in point of time, but in point of circumstance, to the acquisition of a regulated government, than at the moment of the French invasion. Nations must, no doubt, undergo these trials in their progress to the establishment of free institutions. The very trials benefit them, and render them more capable both of obtaining and of enjoying the object which they seek." page 253.

How completely does the mighty drama now passing before our eyes on the great theatre of Europe, justify these hold and sagacious predictions! A great revolution has just taken place in France, and a distinguished prince, out of the regular line of succession, has been invited to the throne, on condition of governing according to the constitution prescribed by the representatives of the popular will. Belgium is doing the same thing. Devoted Poland has attempted it. Italy is in confusion,—and Germany disturbed and uneasy;—so that, it seems already no longer to be in the power of any conspiracy of kings or Congresses, to maintain permanently in Western Europe, a government not essentially founded on free institutions and principles. We will only add, that Mr. Webster has, on hardly any other occasion, entered into the discussion of European politics; and the consequence has been, that, if this speech has found less favour at home than some of his other efforts, it is one, that has brought him great honour abroad; since, besides being printed wherever the English tongue is spoken, it has been circulated through South America, and published in nearly every one of the civilized languages of Europe, including the Spanish and the Greek.

In April, 1824, he took a part in the great discussion of the tariff question; and his speech on that occasion, as well as the one he delivered on the same subject in May, 1828, are both given in the volume before us. But the whole matter is so fresh in the recollections of the community, and Mr. Webster's constant defence of a tariff adapted to the general interests of the country, encouraging alike the cause of American manufactures and the interests of commerce, are so well known, from the first tariff of 1816, to the present moment, that it cannot be needful to speak of them. We would remark, however, that, in the speech of 1824, two subjects are discussed with great ability;—the doctrine of exchange, and the balance of trade. Both of them had been drawn into controversy in Congress, on previous occasions, quite frequently, calling forth alternately "an infinite deal of nothing," and the crudest absurdities; but, from the period of this thorough and statesmanlike examination of them, they have, we believe, hardly been heard of in either house. The great points involved in both of them, have been considered as settled.

We have thus far spoken of Mr. Webster almost entirely as a public orator and debater, or as a jurist. But there is another point of view, in which he is less known to the nation, but no less valued at Washington. He has few equals in the diligence of the committee-rooms. Reputation in and out of Congress, is, in this respect, very differently measured. Nothing is more common in either House than moderately good speakers, prompt in common debate, and sufficiently well instructed not to betray themselves into contempt with the public. Because they can speak and do speak; and especially because they speak often and vehemently, they obtain a transient credit abroad for far more than they are worth, and far more than they are, at last, able to maintain. It may, indeed, be said, as a general truth, that those who speak most frequently in Congress are least heeded, and least entitled to distinction. Members of real ability speak rarely; and, when they do speak, it is from the fulness of their minds, after a careful consideration of the subject, and with a deference for the body they address, and a regard to the public service, which does not permit them to occupy more time than the development of their subject absolutely requires. They are, therefore, always heard with attention and respect; and often with the conviction, that they may be safely followed.

But there is another class in Congress, less known to the public at large, and yet whose services are beyond price. We speak now of those excellent men, who, as chairmen and members of the committees, in the retired corners of the capitol, are doing the real business of legislation, and giving their days and nights to maturing schemes of wise policy and just relief; men who are content, week after week, and month after month, to sacrifice themselves to the negative toil of saving us from the follies of indiscreet, meddlesome, and ignorant innovators, or from the more presumptuous purposes of those who would make legislation the means of furthering and gratifying their own private, unprincipled ambition. Such business-men,—who should be the heads of the working party, if such a party should ever be formed,—are well understood within the walls of Congress. They are marked by the general confidence that follows them; and when they speak, to propose a measure, they are listened to; nay, it may almost be said, they are obeyed.

Mr. Webster has long been known as an efficient labourer in these noiseless toils of the committee-rooms and of practical legislation; and we owe to his hand not a few important improvements in our laws. The most remarkable is, probably, the Crimes-Act of 1825, which, in twenty-six sections, did so much for the criminal code of the country. The whole subject, when he approached it, was full of difficulties and deficiencies. The law in relation to it remained substantially on the foundation of the first great Act of 1790, ch. 36. That act, however, though deserving praise as a first attempt to meet the wants of the country, was entirely unsuited to its condition, and deficient in most important particulars. Its defects, indeed, were so numerous, that half the most notorious crimes, when committed where the general government alone could have cognizance of them, were left beyond the reach of human law and punishment;—rape, burglary, arson and other malicious burnings in forts, arsenals, and light-house establishments, together with many other offences, being wholly unprovided for. Mr. Webster's Act, which, as a just tribute to his exertions, already bears his name, cures these gross defects, besides a multitude of others; and it was well known at the time, that he wished to go much further, and give a competent system to the country on the whole criminal code, but was deterred by the danger of failure, if he attempted too much at once. Indeed, the difficulty of obtaining a patient hearing for any bill of such complexity and extent, is well understood in Congress; and it is not, perhaps, an unjust reproach upon our national legislature to confess, that even the most experienced statesmen are rarely able to carry through any great measure of purely practical improvement. Temporary projects, and party strifes, and private claims, and individual jealousies, and, above all, the passion for personal display in everlasting debate, offer obstacles to the success of mere patriotism and statesmanship, which are all but insurmountable. Probably no man, at that time, but Mr. Webster, who, in addition to his patient habits of labour in the committee-room, possessed the general confidence of the House, and had a persevering address and promptitude in answering objections, could have succeeded in so signal an undertaking. Sir Samuel Romilly and Mr. Peel have acquired lasting and merited reputations in England for meliorations of their criminal code. But they had a willing audience, and an eager support. Mr. Webster, without either, effected as much in his Crimes-Act of 1825, as has been effected by any single effort of these statesmen, and is fairly to be ranked with them among those benefactors of mankind, who have enlightened the jurisprudence of their country, and made it at once more efficient and more humane.

At the same session of Congress, the great question of internal improvements came up, and was vehemently discussed in January, on the appropriation made for the western national road. Mr. Webster defended the principle, as he had already defended it in 1816; and as he has defended it constantly since, down to the last year and the last session, without, so far as we have seen, receiving any sufficient answer to the positions he took in debate on these memorable occasions. Perhaps the doctrine he has so uniformly maintained on this subject, is less directly favourable to the interests of the northern than of the western states; but it was high-toned and national throughout, and seems in no degree to have impaired the favour with which he was regarded in New-England. At any rate, he was re-elected, with singular unanimity, to represent the city of Boston in the nineteenth Congress, and took his seat there anew in December, 1825.

In both sessions of this Congress, important subjects were discussed, and Mr. Webster bore an important part in them; but we can now only suggest one or two of them. As chairman of the Judiciary Committee, he introduced the bill for enlarging the number of judges of the Supreme Court of the United States. His views in relation to it are contained in the remarks he made on the occasion, and had great weight with the House; but the bill was afterwards lost through an amendment of the Senate. So, too, on the question of the Panama mission, involving the points that were first moved in 1796 in the House of Representatives, on occasion of the British Treaty, Mr. Webster has left on record his opinions, doctrines, and feelings, in a speech of great beauty and power, which will always be recurred to, whenever the right of the House of Representatives to advise the executive in relation to the management of foreign missions may come under discussion. But we are compelled to abstain from any further notice of them both, by want of room.

In 1826, he had been elected, we believe, all but unanimously, to represent the City of Boston, in the House of Representatives; but, before he took his seat, a vacancy having occurred in the Senate, he was chosen to fill it by the Legislature of Massachusetts, of which, a great majority in both its branches, besides the council and the governor, belonged to the old republican party of the country. He was chosen, too, under circumstances, which showed how completely his talents and lofty national bearing had disarmed all political animosities, and how thoroughly that commonwealth claimed him as her own, and cherished his reputation and influence as a part of her treasures. There was no regular nomination of him from any quarter, nor any regular opposition; and he received the appointment by a sort of general consent and acclamation, as if it were given with pride and pleasure, as well as with unhesitating confidence and respect.

How he has borne himself in the Senate during the four sessions he has sat there, is known to the whole country. No man has been found tall enough to overshadow him; no man has been able to attract from him, or to intercept from him, the constant regard of the nation. He has been so conspicuous, so prominent, that whatever he has done, and whatever he has said, has been watched and understood throughout the borders of the land, almost as familiarly and thoroughly as it has been at Washington.

But though the eyes of all have thus been fastened on him in such a way, that nothing relating to him can have escaped their notice, there is yet one occasion, where he attracted a kind and degree of attention, which, as it is rarely given, is so much the more honourable when it is obtained. We refer now, of course, to the occasion, when, in 1830, he overthrew the Doctrines of Nullification. Undoubtedly, in one sense of the word, Mr. Webster was taken completely by surprise, when these doctrines, for the first time in the history of the country, were announced in the Senate; since he was so far from any particular preparation to meet or answer them, that it was almost by accident he was in his place, when they were so unexpectedly, at least to him and all his friends, brought forth. In another and better sense of the phrase, he was not taken by surprise at all; for the time was already long gone by, when, on any great question of national interest or constitutional principle, he could be taken unprepared or unarmed. We mean by this, that the discussion of the most important points in the memorable debate alluded to, came on incidentally; or rather that these points were thrust forward by a few individuals, who seemed predetermined to proceed under cover of them, to the ultimate limits of personal and party violence.

Mr. Foot's resolution to inquire respecting the sales and the surveys of western lands, was the innocent cause of the whole conflict. It was introduced on the 29th of December, 1829; and was not then expected by its author, or, perhaps, by any body else to excite much discussion, or lead to any very important results. When it was introduced, Mr. Webster was absent from Washington. Two days afterwards he took his seat. The resolution had, indeed, called forth a few remarks, somewhat severe, the day after it was presented, and then had been postponed to the next Monday; but, apparently from want of interest in its fate, or from the pressure of more important business, it was not called up by the mover till January 13. From this time, a partial discussion began; but it lingered rather lifelessly, and, in fact, really rose even to skirmishing only one day, until the 19th, when General Hayne, a distinguished senator from South Carolina, in a vehement and elaborate speech, attacked the New-England States for what he considered their selfish opposition to the interests of the West; and endeavoured to show that a natural sympathy existed between the Southern and Western States, upon the distribution and sales of the public lands, which would necessarily make them a sort of natural allies. With this speech, of course, the war broke out.

While it was delivering, Mr. Webster entered the Senate. He came from the Supreme Court of the United States; and the papers in his hands showed how far his thoughts were from the subjects and the tone, which now at once reached him. As soon as General Hayne sat down, he rose to reply; but Mr. Benton of Missouri, with many compliments to General Hayne, and apparently willing the Senate should have all the leisure necessary to consider and feel the effects of his speech, moved an adjournment; Mr. Webster good naturedly consented. Of course, he had the floor the next day; and in a speech, which will not be forgotten by the present generation, poured out stores of knowledge long before accumulated, in relation to the history of the public lands and to the legislation concerning them; defending the policy of the government towards the new states; showing the dangerous tendency of the doctrines respecting the Constitution, current at the South, and sanctioned by General Hayne; and repelling the general charges and reproaches cast on New-England, especially the charge of hostility to the West, which,—if there was meaning in words or acts,—he proved to be distinctly applicable to the language and votes of the South Carolina delegation in the House of Representatives in 1825. The war was thus, at once, carried into the enemy's country.

The next day, January 21, it being well known that Mr. Webster had urgent business, which called him again into the Supreme Court of the United States, one of the members from Maryland moved an adjournment of the debate. It would, perhaps, have been only what is customary and courteous, if the request had been granted. But General Hayne objected. "The gentleman," he said, "had discharged his weapon, and he (Mr. H.) wished for an opportunity to return the fire." To which Mr. Webster having replied;—"I am ready to receive it; let the discussion go on;"—the debate was resumed. Mr. Benton then concluded some important remarks he had begun the day before; and Mr. Hayne rose, and opened a speech, which occupied the Senate the remainder of that day, and the whole of the day following. It was a vigorous speech, embracing a great number of topics and grounds;—calling in question the fairness of New-England, the consistency of Mr. Webster, and the patriotism of the State of Massachusetts;—and ending with a bold, acute, and elaborated exposition and defence of the doctrines now, for the first time, formally developed in Congress, and since well known by the name of the Doctrines of Nullification. The first part of the speech was caustic and personal; the latter part of it grave and argumentative;—and the whole was delivered in presence of an audience, which any man might be proud to have collected to listen to him.

Mr. Webster took notes during its delivery; and it was apparent to the crowd, which, for two days, had thronged the senate-chamber, that he intended to reply. Indeed, on this point, he was permitted no choice. He had been assailed in a way, which called for an answer. When, therefore, the doors of the senate-chamber were opened the next morning, the rush for admittance was unprecedented. Mr. Webster had the floor, and rose. The first division of his speech is in reply to parts and details of his adversary's personal assault,—and is a happy, though severe specimen of the keenest spirit of genuine debate and retort;—for Mr. Webster is one of those dangerous adversaries, who are never so formidable or so brilliant, as when they are most rudely pressed;—for then, as in the phosphorescence of the ocean, the degree of the violence urged, may always be taken as the measure of the brightness that is to follow. On the present occasion, his manner was cool, entirely self-possessed, and perfectly decided, and carried his irony as far as irony can go. There are portions of this first day's discussion, like the passage relating to the charge of sleeping on the speech, he had answered; the one in allusion to Banquo's ghost, which had been unhappily conjured up by his adversary; and the rejoinder respecting "one Nathan Dane of Beverly, in Massachusetts,"—which will not be forgotten. The very tones in which they were uttered, still vibrate in the ears of those who heard them. There are, also, other and graver portions of it,—like those which respect the course of legislation in regard to the new states; the conduct of the North in regard to slavery, and the doctrine of internal improvements,—which are in the most powerful style of parliamentary debate. As he approaches the conclusion of this first great division of his speech, he rises to the loftiest tone of national feeling, entirely above the dim, misty region of sectional or party passion and prejudice:—

"The eulogium pronounced on the character of the state of South Carolina, by the honourable gentleman, for her revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge that the honourable member goes before me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or distinguished character, South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honour, I partake in the pride, of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all. The Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Marions—Americans, all—whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. In their day and generation, they served and honoured the country, and the whole country; and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him, whose honoured name the gentleman himself bears—does he esteem me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light of Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina? Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit a Carolina name, so bright, as to produce envy in my bosom? No, Sir, increased gratification and delight, rather. I thank God, that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which would drag angels down. When I shall be found, Sir, in my place here, in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happens to spring up beyond the little limits of my own state, or neighbourhood; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere devotion to liberty and the country; or, if I see an uncommon endowment of Heaven—if I see extraordinary capacity and virtue in any son of the South—and if, moved by local prejudice, or gangrened by state jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair from his just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth!

"Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections—let me indulge in refreshing remembrance of the past—let me remind you that in early times, no states cherished greater harmony, both of principle and feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would to God that harmony might again return! Shoulder to shoulder they went through the revolution—hand in hand they stood round the administration of Washington, and felt his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feeling, if it exist, alienation and distrust, are the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never scattered.

"Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts—she needs none. There she is—behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history: the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill—and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, falling in the great struggle for independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every state, from New England to Georgia; and there they will lie forever. And, Sir, where American liberty raised its first voice; and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it—if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it—if folly and madness—if uneasiness, under salutary and necessary restraint—shall succeed to separate it from that union, by which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked: it will stretch forth its arm with whatever of vigour it may still retain, over the friends who gather round it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin." pages 406, 407.

The next day, Mr. Webster went into a grave and formal examination of the doctrines of nullification, or the right of the state legislatures to interfere, whenever, in their judgment, the general government transcends its constitutional limits, and to arrest the operation of its laws. Four days had hardly elapsed, since this doctrine had been announced with an air of assured success in the Senate; and these four days had been filled with active debate and contest. Of course, here again, there had been neither time nor opportunity for especial preparation. Happily, too, there was no need of it. The fund, on which the demand was so triumphantly made, was equal to the draft, great and unexpected as it was. Mr. Webster's mind is full of constitutional law and legislation. On all such subjects, he needs no forecast, no preparation, no brief;—and, on this occasion, he had none. He but uttered opinions and arguments, which had grown mature with his years and his judgment, and which were as familiar to him as household words. We have, therefore, no elaborate, documentary discussion,—no citation of books or authorities. It is with principles, great constitutional principles, he deals; and it is in plain, direct arguments, which all can understand, that he defends them. There is nothing technical, nothing abstruse, nothing indirect, either in the subject or its explanation. On the contrary, all is straight forward—obvious—to the purpose. For instance, after stating the question at issue to be, "whose prerogative is it, to decide on the constitutionality or unconstitutionality of the laws?" he goes on:—

"This leads us to inquire into the origin of this government, and the source of its power. Whose agent is it? Is it the creature of the state legislatures, or the creature of the people? If the government of the United States be the agent of the state governments, then they may control it, provided they can agree in the manner of controlling it; if it be the agent of the people, then the people alone can control it, restrain it, modify, or reform it. It is observable enough, that the doctrine for which the honourable gentleman contends, leads him to the necessity of maintaining, not only that this general government is the creature of the states, but that it is the creature of each of the states severally; so that each may assert the power, for itself, of determining whether it acts within the limits of its authority. It is the servant of four and twenty masters, of different wills and different purposes, and yet bound to obey all. This absurdity (for it seems no less) arises from a misconception as to the origin of this government and its true character. It is, Sir, the people's constitution, the people's government,—made for the people,—made by the people,—and answerable to the people. The people of the United States have declared that this constitution shall be the supreme law. We must either admit the proposition, or dispute their authority. The states are, unquestionably, sovereign, so far as their sovereignty is not affected by this supreme law. But the state legislatures, as political bodies, however sovereign, are yet not sovereign over the people. So far as the people have given power to the general government, so far the grant is unquestionably good, and the government holds of the people, and not of the state governments. We are all agents of the same supreme power, the people.—The general government and the state governments derive their authority from the same source. Neither can, in relation to the other, be called primary, though one is definite and restricted, and the other general and residuary. The national government possesses those powers which it can be shown the people have conferred on it, and no more. All the rest belongs to the state governments, or to the people themselves. So far as the people have restrained state sovereignty, by the expression of their will, in the constitution of the United States, so far, it must be admitted, state sovereignty is effectually controlled. I do not contend that it is, or ought to be controlled farther. The sentiment to which I have referred, propounds that state sovereignty is only to be controlled by its own "feeling of justice;" that is to say, it is not to be controlled at all; for one who is to follow his own feelings is under no legal control.—Now, however men may think this ought to be, the fact is, that the people of the United States have chosen to impose control on state sovereignties. There are those, doubtless, who wish they had been left without restraint; but the constitution has ordered the matter differently. To make war, for instance, is an exercise of sovereignty; but the constitution declares that no state shall make war. To coin money is another exercise of sovereign power; but no state is at liberty to coin money. Again, the constitution says that no sovereign state shall be so sovereign as to make a treaty. These prohibitions, it must be confessed, are a control on the state sovereignty of South Carolina, as well as of the other states, which does not arise "from her own feelings of honourable justice." Such an opinion, therefore, is in defiance of the plainest provisions of the constitution." pages 410, 411.

Again, what can be more sure and convincing than such plain reasoning as this:—

"I maintain, that, between submission to the decision of the constituted tribunals, and revolution, or disunion, there is no middle ground—there is no ambiguous condition, half allegiance, and half rebellion. And, Sir, how futile, how very futile it is, to admit the right of state interference, and then attempt to save it from the character of unlawful resistance, by adding terms of qualification to the causes, and occasions, leaving all these qualifications, like the case itself, in the discretion of the state governments. It must be a clear case, it is said, a deliberate case; a palpable case; a dangerous case. But then the state is still left at liberty to decide for herself, what is clear, what is deliberate, what is palpable, what is dangerous. Do adjectives and epithets avail any thing? Sir, the human mind is so constituted, that the merits of both sides of a controversy appear very clear, and very palpable, to those who respectively espouse them; and both sides usually grow clearer as the controversy advances. South Carolina sees unconstitutionality in the tariff; she sees oppression there, also; and she sees danger. Pennsylvania, with a vision not less sharp, looks at the same tariff, and sees no such thing in it—she sees it all constitutional, all useful, all safe. The faith of South Carolina is strengthened by opposition, and she now not only sees, but resolves, that the tariff is palpably unconstitutional, oppressive, and dangerous: but Pennsylvania, not to be behind her neighbours, and equally willing to strengthen her own faith by a confident asseveration, resolves, also, and gives to every warm affirmative of South Carolina, a plain, downright, Pennsylvania negative. South Carolina, to show the strength and unity of her opinion, brings her assembly to a unanimity, within seven voices; Pennsylvania, not to be outdone in this respect more than others, reduces her dissentient fraction to a single vote. Now, Sir, again, I ask the gentleman, what is to be done? Are these states both right? Is he bound to consider them both right? If not, which is in the wrong?—or rather, which has the best right to decide? And if he, and if I, are not to know what the constitution means, and what it is, till those two state legislatures, and the twenty-two others, shall agree in its construction, what have we sworn to, when we have sworn to maintain it? I was forcibly struck, Sir, with one reflection, as the gentleman went on in his speech. He quoted Mr. Madison's resolutions, to prove that a state may interfere, in a case of deliberate, palpable, and dangerous exercise of a power not granted. The honourable member supposes the tariff law to be such an exercise of power; and that, consequently, a case has arisen in which the state may, if it see fit, interfere by its own law. Now, it so happens, nevertheless, that Mr. Madison deems this same tariff law quite constitutional. Instead of a clear and palpable violation, it is, in his judgment, no violation at all. So that, while they use his authority for a hypothetical case, they reject it in the very case before them. All this, Sir, shows the inherent—futility—I had almost used a stronger word—of conceding this power of interference to the states, and then attempting to secure it from abuse by imposing qualifications, of which the states themselves are to judge. One of two things is true; either the laws of the Union are beyond the discretion, and beyond the control of the states; or else we have no constitution of general government, and are thrust back again to the days of the confederacy." pp. 416, 417.

This is a striking fact about Mr. Madison; but one still more striking occurred after the publication of the speech. His great name and authority had been constantly and confidently appealed to, not only in this debate, by General Hayne, but, on previous occasions, by other favourers of the South Carolina doctrines, until at last it began to be almost feared, that Mr. Madison sustained the positions of the nullifiers. But as he had already shown that the tariff law was quite constitutional, so, now, with no less promptness and power, he came out against the whole doctrine of nullification, and showed that his resolutions of 1798, on which its friends had rested the wild fabric of their argument, as its main pillars, had nothing to do with it; and thus, in conjunction with what had been done in the Senate, brought down the whole temple they had built with such pains and cost, upon the heads of their uncircumcised presumption and extravagance. His letter, indeed, on this subject, is one of the most characteristic efforts of his great wisdom, and one of the most important results of this discussion, since it took from the advocates of nullification all the support of his authority—the magni nominis umbra—the shade and shelter of his great name.

But to return to Mr. Webster; the general tone of the last half of his speech is uncommonly grave and imposing; but there is one passage in which a lighter accent is assumed. It is that in which he runs out General Hayne's nullifying doctrine into practice, and sets him, as a military man, to execute his own nullifying law. The argument of this passage is the more efficacious, because it is concealed under so much wit and good-humour.

"And now, Mr. President, let me run the honourable gentleman's doctrine a little into its practical application. Let us look at his probable modus operandi. If a thing can be done, an ingenious man can tell how it is to be done. Now, I wish to be informed, how this state interference is to be put in practice. We will take the existing case of the tariff law. South Carolina is said to have made up her opinion upon it. If we do not repeal it, (as we probably shall not,) she will then apply to the case the remedy of her doctrine. She will, we must suppose, pass a law of her legislature, declaring the several acts of Congress, usually called the Tariff Laws, null and void, so far as they respect South Carolina, or the citizens thereof. So far, all is a paper transaction, and easy enough. But the collector at Charleston, is collecting the duties imposed by these tariff laws—he, therefore, must be stopped. The collector will seize the goods if the tariff duties are not paid. The state authorities will undertake their rescue; the marshal, with his posse, will come to the collector's aid, and here the contest begins. The militia of the state will be called out to sustain the nullifying act. They will march, Sir, under a very gallant leader: for I believe the honourable member himself commands the militia of that part of the state. He will raise the Nullifying Act on his standard, and spread it out as his banner. It will have a preamble, bearing that the tariff laws are palpable, deliberate, and dangerous violations of the Constitution! He will proceed, with his banner flying, to the custom-house in Charleston;

Arrived at the custom-house, he will tell the collector that he must collect no more duties under any of the tariff laws. This, he will be somewhat puzzled to say, by the way, with a grave countenance, considering what hand South Carolina herself had in that of 1816. But, Sir, the collector would, probably, not desist, at his bidding. He would show him the law of Congress, the treasury instruction, and his own oath of office. He would say, he should perform his duty, come what might. Here would ensue a pause: for they say that a certain stillness precedes the tempest. The trumpeter would hold his breath awhile, and before all this military array should fall on the custom-house, collector, clerks, and all, it is very probable some of those composing it, would request of their gallant commander-in-chief, to be informed a little upon the point of law; for they have, doubtless, a just respect for his opinions as a lawyer, as well as for his bravery as a soldier. They know he has read Blackstone and the Constitution, as well as Turrene and Vauban. They would ask him, therefore, something concerning their rights in this matter. They would inquire, whether it was not somewhat dangerous to resist a law of the United States. What would be the nature of their offence, they would wish to learn, if they, by military force and array, resisted the execution in Carolina of a law of the United States, and it should turn out, after all, that the law was constitutional? He would answer, of course, treason. No lawyer could give any other answer. John Fries, he would tell them, had learned that some years ago. How, then, they would ask, do you propose to defend us? We are not afraid of bullets, but treason has a way of taking people off, that we do not much relish. How do you propose to defend us? 'Look at my floating banner,' he would reply, 'see there the nullifying law!' Is it your opinion, gallant commander, they would then say, that if we should be indicted for treason, that same floating banner of yours would make a good plea in bar? 'South Carolina is a sovereign state,' he would reply. That is true—but would the judge admit our plea? 'These tariff laws,' he would repeat, 'are unconstitutional, palpably, deliberately, dangerously.' That all may be so; but if the tribunal should not happen to be of that opinion, shall we swing for it? We are ready to die for our country, but it is rather an awkward business, this dying without touching the ground! After all, that is a sort of hemp-tax, worse than any part of the tariff.

Mr. President, the honourable gentleman would be in a dilemma, like that of another great general. He would have a knot before him which he could not untie. He must cut it with his sword. He must say to his followers, defend yourselves with your bayonets; and this is war—civil war." pp. 421, 422.

After this his tone becomes even more grave and solemn than before, until, when he approaches the conclusion, he bursts forth with the expression of feelings of attachment to the Union and the Constitution, which it seemed no longer possible for him to suppress. We should quote the passage, but that it has been quoted every where, and is familiar to every body.

We forbear to pursue this debate any further. Mr. Hayne replied in a short speech, which he afterwards expanded in the newspapers into a long one; and Mr. Webster rejoined with a syllogistic brevity, exactness, and power, which carried with them the force and conclusiveness of a demonstration; and thus ended the discussion as between these two. It was afterwards continued, however, for several weeks, and a majority, or nearly a majority, of the whole Senate took part in it; but whenever it is now recollected or referred to, the contest between the two principal speakers, from the 19th to the 23d of January, is, we believe, generally intended.

The results of this memorable debate are already matter of history. The vast audience that had contended for admission to the senate-chamber, till entrance became dangerous, were the first to feel and make known its effect; for, with his peculiar power of explaining abstruse and technical subjects, so that all can comprehend them, Mr. Webster there expounded a great doctrine of the constitution, which had been powerfully assailed, so that all might feel the foundations on which it rests, to have been consolidated rather than disturbed by the attempt to shake them. Their verdict, therefore, was given at the time, and heard throughout the country. But since that day, when the crowd came out of the senate-chamber rejoicing in the victory which had been achieved for the constitution, nearly twenty editions of the same argument have been called for in different parts of the country, and thus scattered abroad above an hundred thousand copies of it, besides the countless multitudes that have been sent forth by the newspapers, until almost without a metaphor, it may be said to have been carried to every fire-side in the land. The very question, therefore, which was first submitted to an audience in the capitol,—comprising, indeed, a remarkable representation of the talents and authority of the country, but still comparatively small,—has since been submitted by the press to the judgment of the nation, more fully, probably, than any thing of the kind was ever submitted before; and the same remarkable plainness, the same power of elucidating great legal and constitutional doctrines till they become as intelligible and simple as the occupations of daily life, has enlarged the jury of the senate-chamber till it has become the jury of the whole people, and the same verdict has followed. What, therefore, Chancellor Kent said in relation to it, is as true as it is beautiful;—"Peace has its victories as well as war;"—and the triumph which Mr. Webster thus secured for a great constitutional principle, he may now well regard, as the chief honour of his life.

Indeed, a man such as he is, when he looks back upon his past life, and forward to the future, must needs feel, that his fate and his fortunes, his fame and his ambition, are connected throughout with the fate and the fortunes of the constitution of his country. He is the child of our free institutions. None other could have produced or reared him;—none other can now sustain or advance him. From the days when, amidst the fastnesses of nature, his young feet with difficulty sought the rude school-house, where his earliest aspirations were nurtured, up to the moment when he came forth in triumph from the senate-chamber, conscious that he had overthrown the Doctrines of Nullification, and contended successfully for the Union of the States, he must have felt, that his extraordinary powers have constantly depended for their development and their exercise on the peculiar institutions of our free governments. It is plain, indeed, that he has thriven heretofore, by their progress and success; and it is, we think, equally plain, that in time to come, his hopes and his fortunes can be advanced only by their continued stability and further progress. We think, too, that Mr. Webster feels this. On all the great principles of the constitution, and all the leading interests of the country, his opinions are known; his ground is taken; his lot is cast. Whoever may attack the Union on any of the fundamental doctrines of our government, he must defend them. Prima fortuna salutis monstrat iter. The path he has chosen, is the path he must follow. And we rejoice at it. We rejoice, that such a necessity is imposed on such a mind. We rejoice, that, even such as he cannot stand, unless they sustain the institutions that formed them; and that, what is in itself so poetically just and so morally beautiful, is enforced by a providential wisdom, which neither genius nor ambition can resist or control. We rejoice, too, when, on the other hand, a man so gifted, faithfully and proudly devotes to the institutions of his country the powers and influence they have unfolded and fostered in him, that, in his turn, he is again rewarded with confidence and honours, which, as they can come neither from faction nor passion, so neither party discipline nor political violence can diminish nor impair them. And, finally, and above all, we rejoice for the great body of the people, that the decided and unhesitating support they have so freely given to the distinguished Senator, with whose name "this land now rings from side to side," because he has triumphantly defended the Union of the States and the principles of the Constitution;—we rejoice, we say, for the people, because, such a support given by them for such a cause, not only strengthens and cements the very foundations of whatever is most valuable in our government; but at the same time, warns and encourages all who would hereafter seek similar honours and favours, to consult for the course they shall follow, neither the indications of party nor the impulses of passion, but to address themselves plainly, fearlessly, calmly, directly to the intelligence and honesty of the whole nation, "and ask no omen but their country's cause."

Art. VIII.—POLAND.

1.—Histoire de Pologne par M. Zielinski, Professeur au Lycée de Varsovie. Tome premier, pp. 383. Tome second, pp. 422: Paris: 1830.

2.—Polen, zur Zeit der zwey letzten Theilungen dieses Reichs: Historisch, Statistisch, und Geographisch beschrieben, &c. &c. Poland, at the time of the two last divisions of this kingdom; Historically, Statistically, and Geographically, described, with a map, exhibiting the divisions of Poland, in the years 1772, 1793, and 1795: pp. 551.

3.—Histoire de l'Anarchie de Pologne, par M. Rulhiere.

4.—Spittler's Entwurf der Geschichte Polens, Miteiner Fortsetrung bis auf die neuesten Zeiten verslhen von Georg Sartorius, in Spittler's Essay at the History of the European States. Vol. II. pp. 460-546: Third edition: Berlin: 1823:

We venture to invite public attention to a review of the history of Poland. The subject excites a deep but melancholy interest; we dread to hear the result of the glorious but unhappy conflict, in which that devoted country is engaged. We know, indeed, that the Poles will be faithful to their cause; we know, that they are encouraged by the sincere prayers of all who desire the permanent and extended welfare of the world; we know, that though single-handed, hemmed in by hostile powers, and all unprovided as they are with the means of conducting war, they will sustain the terrible struggle with fearless intrepidity. But Warsaw, like the Carthage of old, must fall at last; though the excited spirit of patriotism may cover its fall, with a glory which will not fade. But we fear almost to read of partial successes. The generous enthusiasm of the Poles for political independence, is identified with the best interests, the security and permanent repose of Europe; it has not failed to achieve brilliant actions in its contest against the fearful odds of an immense empire; it may perform yet more honourable deeds upon the great theatre of the contest; but all these temporary advantages fail to excite in us a thrill of triumph. We fear for the result. The brave opposition which has been made, displays the more fully the merits of the nation which is doomed as a victim, and we almost shrink from admiring the gallantry which will eventually render more bloody and more severe the sacrifice that must at last be offered on the unholy altars of despotism. The nationality of Poland has excited the struggle; has animated her sons to battle; and has armed them in the panoply of an heroic despair. That nationality will be utterly destroyed by the impending successes of Russia. The alarum was rung too late for the devoted people; they rallied to the watchword of liberty, but their glory and strength were already departed. Its name will be erased from the list of nations; and the beautiful plains on which the proud cavalry of its nobles used to assemble in the haughty exercise of their elective rights, will be confounded with the great mass of lands, which constitute the vast empire of the North.

Before our remarks can meet the eyes of our readers, perhaps, this result will have been accomplished. There was a short interval in the history of our age, when the monarchs, in their resistance to Napoleon, made their appeal to their people, acknowledged the power and aroused the enthusiasm of the many, and seemed inclined to give durability to their institutions by conciliating the general good will. It was during that short period, that the residue of Poland, having by the fortunes of war become occupied by Russian troops, was annexed to Russia, not as an integral part of its empire, but as a coordinate and independent kingdom. No such system had ever before been pursued; but Alexander was for a while seized with the general love of constitutions, and believed them still consistent with his independent sway. In consequence, Poland, that is, the small remaining portion of the ancient kingdom, received its separate existence, and under a free constitution. But the absolute politicians soon discovered that this would prove in their doctrines an anomaly. It soon became evident that the liberties of Poland were inconsistent with the abject submission of Russia; and since we cannot hope, that the latter will as yet claim a change in its government, it seems assured, that the Poles will be compelled to submit to the same servitude. Such appears to us the necessary issue of the present conflict; Polish nationality will be entirely subverted; and the kingdom of Poland be merged in the consolidated empire.

We regard such an issue, as one deeply to be deplored. The favorite poet of Italy, in searching for objects to illustrate the general decay of human affairs, and to pourtray the insignificance of personal sufferings, as compared with the larger proofs of the instability of fortune, exclaims with pathetic truth;

Of the ruin of a realm, we have a most appalling example. In the places of many of the old Polish cities, it is said, that dense forests have now sprung up; that the traveller, as he makes his way through their interminable shades, finds the pavement of streets and the relics of deserted towns in the midst of a lifeless solitude. And now, that the sum of evils may be full, the nation of the Poles seems destined to a fall, from which there will be to them no further resurrection.

Yet the former history of Poland hardly palliates the position which the sovereigns and states of Europe have assumed towards her. In the days of her republican pride, was she not the chosen ally of France and the rightful mistress of Prussia? The crowns of Sweden and of Bohemia have at separate times been worn by her kings; the Danube was hardly the limit of her southern frontier; the coasts of the Euxine were hers; and when Vienna itself was about to yield to the yoke of Turkish barbarism, it was a Polish king that stayed the wave and rescued Christendom from the danger of Turkish supremacy. If France had on the one side saved Europe from the Saracens, Poland had in its turn protected it against the Turks; and John Sobieski alone deserves to be named with Charles Martel, as the successful defenders of Christendom in the moments of its greatest danger.

But in the foreign politics of European powers, generosity and gratitude have usually prevailed no more than other moral considerations. The interests of the state have sometimes disputed the ascendency with the intrigues of courtiers, or the cabals of ecclesiastics; but the voice of justice has rarely been heard in its own right. Political vice has usually been counteracted by political vice; and if the right of the stronger has been sometimes resisted, it was only from the multiplication of jealousies. Thus, we shall see, that the crisis of Poland was delayed, not by its intrinsic strength, but by the collision of foreign interests.

A consideration of the revolutions in Polish history is full of instruction for our nation. The inquirer finds, that the causes of the decline of that unhappy country were deeply rooted in its constitution; that it yielded to foreign aggression, only because it had been reduced to anarchy by the licentious vehemence of domestic feuds. The Poles themselves struck the wounds of which their republic bled; and their efforts at resistance would have been ample and effectual, if they had not continued their factions till the ruin was complete; if the alarums which aroused them to united action, had not been the knell of their country.

The Poles are a branch of the great Slavonian family of nations. No history reveals, no tradition reports their origin. The plains upon the Vistula were at a very early period the seat of their abode; and when, in the seventh century, the Bulgarians excited movements on the Danube, new tribes crossed the Carpathian mountains, and perhaps contributed to the development of the political condition among their brethren whom they joined.

The name itself of Poles, does not occur till the end of the tenth century; but fable has not omitted to lend an aspect of romance to the early fortunes of the nation. Shall we repeat the wonderful tale of the hospitable peasant Piast, who is said have been chosen in 840 to be the Polish king? His descendants are said to have been kings in Poland till the time of Casimir III.; and so late as 1675 were princes in Silesia. It was owing to the virtues of this plebeian monarch, that the natives among the Poles, when elected to be kings, were called Piasts.

The German kings were zealous to diffuse Christianity beyond the Vistula; and Mjesko, who was baptized in 964, was the first of the Polish chiefs who embraced Christianity, and at the same time became the vassal of the German king. Yet it is hard to assign a fixed character to the government during this earliest historical period. As Poland is a plain, its natural aspect invited aggressions from all sides; and it was in its turn fond of war as a profession. Its limits were uncertain, and the power of its chiefs ill defined. Nor was its relation to Germany established. International law was but faintly developed; nor could it be said, whether the masters of Poland did homage for the whole, or only for a portion of their territory. Indeed, it was sometimes utterly refused. To the peremptory demand of tribute, on the part of the Emperor Henry V., the Polish Duke replied, "no terror can make me own myself your tributary, even to the amount of a penny; I had rather lose my whole country, than possess it in ignominious peace." Unsuccessful in the field, the emperor relied on his treasures to make his supremacy acknowledged. "See here," said he to the Polish deputation, opening his chest, "the resources which shall enable me to crush you." A Polish envoy immediately drew from his finger a ring of great value, and throwing it in, exclaimed, "add this to your gold."^[9] Venality was not in fashion in those days, and the emperor suffered a complete overthrow.

So it was, that for the four first centuries in Polish history, prowess in the field rendered the nation glorious and passionately fond of war. The pressure of external force at last led to the formation of a permanent territory, and an acknowledged form of government, after a long subdivision of the country among various chiefs, and a confused political condition, eminently favourable to the leaders of a barbarous aristocracy.

The first permanent mass that arose out of the chaos of separate principalities, was Great Poland, on the Wartha; and this was at last united under the same master with Little Poland, on the Vistula. The nation desired a king, as their only refuge from anarchy and invasions. The Pope John XII. had been desired to appoint the king; he pleaded the principle of nonintervention, and bade the nation execute its own laws and its own will. In consequence, Ladislaus was crowned with great solemnity at Cracau, in 1320, and the series of Polish kings is from that time uninterrupted. But the period of aristocratic anarchy had impressed a character upon the government and the nation. There existed no established laws, no rising commerce, no pure religious worship. The bravery of the Poles in the field was brilliant, but barren. Their enthusiasm won victories, but could not turn them to the advantage of the country. And when, at the epoch we have named, a king was chosen for the whole state, his power was already limited, not by a fair representation of the interests of the nation, but solely by the high aristocracy. Without their consent no laws could be established, nor wars declared, nor government administered, nor justice decreed.

And yet the ensuing period of Polish history is that of greatest national prosperity. The vices of the constitution were not fully developed till the close of the sixteenth century. Indeed, Casimir the Great, the immediate successor of Ladislaus, was able, like Augustus of Rome, during a reign of thirty-seven years, to establish something like justice and tranquillity in his kingdom. If he lost territory on the one side, he gained large provinces from Russia on the other. But his greatest merit consisted in his functions as a law-giver. His code was written in the Latin, expressed in neat and clear language, and was favourable to the industry and prosperity of the country. The Polish historians delight to recount the magnificence which his economy enabled him to maintain; and applying to him what used to be said of the Roman, declare that he found Poland of wood, and left it of brick.

But the seeds of evil were also planted by him. According to his desire, Lewis, the king of Hungary, was elected his successor. The consent of the nobles could be purchased only by concessions; and in order to secure the royal dignity in his family to one of his daughters, he was compelled to enter into terms with the oligarchy. Freedom from taxation was the great point demanded and promised. All towns, castles, and estates, belonging to the nobles, were freed from taxation forever; and no services of any kind were to be required. In case of war, the nobles were to take the field on horseback, for the defence of the country; but if necessity required the employment of troops abroad, it was to be at the charge of the king. Thus the paternal ambition of the king, uniting with the avarice of the nobles, laid the foundation of anarchy and weakness, by concessions wholly at variance with the existence of an equitable liberty. The people, having no means of making their rights heard, were abandoned entirely to the tyranny of their immediate masters. Such was the origin of the pacta conventa, and such the first venal bargain, by which the energies of Poland were bartered away, and aristocratic tyranny made the basis of the constitution.

Fatal as was this arrangement for the political progress of Poland, it was yet favourable for the extension of its territory. Hedwiga, the daughter of Lewis, succeeded to the throne; and by accepting for her husband Jagellon, the grand duke of Lithuania, she annexed that dutchy to Poland, and was the means of converting its inhabitants from paganism. It was in 1386 that the grand duke was baptized, and with him the celebrated family of the Jagellons obtained the Polish crown.

The Lithuanians were converted to Christianity, not by fire and sword, nor by any process of argument. It was the will of their prince; and besides, excellent woollen coats and leather shoes, were distributed to the neophytes. He who could repeat the pater noster and the decalogue, was received as a Christian. They were a barbarous race,—yet, like the Poles, formed a part of the Slavonian family, and had gradually become an independent nation. The complete union of the two countries did not take place for nearly two centuries.

The family of the Jagellons, for seven successive reigns, extending through 186 years, obtained the throne. The praises of that period form the theme of eulogy among the patriotic writers of Poland. It was the period of the greatest harmony between the kings and the nation. They were admired for the fidelity with which they maintained their covenants; the crown of Sweden was repeatedly proffered to them,—and they had conferred on Poland, the lasting benefit of uniting to it a country, which before had been the theatre of constant hostilities. But yet so far as the sovereigns themselves are observed, not one of them displayed the highest excellence of a ruler. They were abundantly distinguished for the virtues which constitute personal worth; but they were not of the persevering energy, or prudent discernment, which could alone have given a sure foundation to the Polish government.

The first in the line, to secure the accession of his son, confirmed the privileges of the nobles. The peasantry was forgotten; the class of citizens hardly remembered, but the personal rights and the property of the nobles was sacredly assured. It was further stipulated, that none but natives should be appointed to the high offices of the state. A stipulation of that sort, would have rendered the genius of Peter the Great inadequate to the reforms which he planned and executed; the limitation in Poland undoubtedly retarded the progress of culture.

The second in the series, a minor at his accession, was elected king of Hungary also; and he had hardly begun to exercise his power and display his valour, before he fell in the famous battle of Varna, in the effort to save the Greek empire from the Turks. His brother and successor, Casimir IV., had two powerful enemies, the Teutonic knights, and the Polish nobility. The latter war was the more formidable,—for, as the power of his foreign adversaries compelled him to resort frequently to the diets, of which he convoked no less than forty-five, it is not strange, that the nobles wrung some new privilege from every occurrence, which rendered their co-operation necessary. At length it was established, that no new law should be enacted, nor any levy of troops be made, without the consent of the general diet. The custom of sending deputies now became prevalent, because the frequency of the diet rendered a general attendance troublesome. The number of delegates was at first fixed by no rule, and the whole form grew up as chance, as gradual usage prescribed; but, as the excessive power of the nobility increased, the rights of the peasantry were impaired. The code of Casimir the Great, had left the labourer the choice of his residence; it was now decreed, that the peasant should be considered as attached to the soil, and the fugitive might be pursued and recovered as a run-a-way slave. A third estate was hardly known; and, if the deputies of cities sometimes appeared in a convention, their chief privilege was to kiss the new king's hand, or sign decrees, on which they were not invited to deliberate. Polish politics established the rule, that none but nobles were citizens.

While the general diet thus received its character as the representation of the nobility, elected in the provincial assemblies, another body now gradually assumed an active existence. The highest civil and religious officers of the kingdom formed a senate; and they were constituted members, not because they were great proprietors, but in consequence of the office, to which they had been named by the king.

Casimir was succeeded by his three sons. Under the first, John Albert, the power of the oligarchy was confirmed, and not a semblance of an independent prerogative remained to the crown. Under Alexander, it was further decreed by the diet, that nothing should in future be transacted, except communi consensu. The nobility had already usurped all the sovereign authority; they now in their zeal to confirm their usurpations, introduced the ambiguous clause, which was afterwards to be perverted to their own ruin. A dismal inadvertence failed to insert, that the will of the majority should be binding; and hence it became possible at a later day to interpret the law, as investing each deputy with a tribunicial authority. Under Sigismund, the third son of Casimir, all attempts to restore the royal authority were futile. The equality of the nobles was established by law;—yet a portion of them already began to look with contempt on their less wealthy peers, and would gladly have separated themselves from the great mass of "the plebeian nobility."

With Sigismund Augustus, the son of Sigismund, the race of the Jagellons expired. At that time, Poland was still powerful; the Prince of Stettin and the Prince of Prussia were its vassals; the palatines of Wallachia and Moldavia owed allegiance to it; the Duke of Courland did it homage; Livonia was incorporated among its territories. Nothing but a government was wanting to render it one of the most brilliant states of Europe. Copernicus had already rendered it illustrious in science; and, in no part of Europe was the knowledge of the Latin language so generally diffused.

Now that the royal dynasty was at an end, the succession to the throne, which had hitherto been in part hereditary, became necessarily elective. But no forms had been prescribed for the occasion. It was not known who were the rightful depositaries of power during the interregnum, nor who were possessed of a voice in the election of king. At length the right of convoking the diet was assigned to the primate, and the elective franchise was decided to appertain in an equal degree to each of the nobles, without the intervention of electors.

To maintain religious peace was the next concern. The reformation had made its way to Poland,—but not merely under the forms of Calvinism and Lutheranism. The Socinians existed also as a powerful party. Those who were not Catholics, were at variance with each other; the diet, therefore, with great consideration, decreed, that no one should be punished or persecuted for his religious opinions. The term, dissidents, was originally used of them all, as expressing their mutual differences; in process of time, it was, however, applied exclusively to those who were out of the Roman church.

At length the day for the election arrived. The Polish nobility, each on his war-horse, appeared at the appointed place in countless troops, and it seemed as though an army had been assembled, rather than an electoral body. The candidates were proposed,—the ambassadors of the leading foreign powers admitted to address the electors, and freedom given to any Pole to offer himself as a candidate, for the suffrages of his countrymen. Yet, before proceeding to the election, a constitution was formed, embodying all the privileges of the oligarchy, and conferring on that order, the unequivocal sovereignty. After this work was accomplished, the vote was taken, and Henry of Anjou was chosen king.

It was wise for the nation, which showed a spirit of religious tolerance, to exact of their new king, a pledge in favour of religious peace. An oath was not too strong a guarantee to be required of him, who was a leader in the massacre of St. Bartholomy's night! It was wise, also, to require money and other advantageous stipulations of France. But the Poles felt still greater satisfaction in the law which was now established, prohibiting the choice of a successor, during the lifetime of the king.

The Duke of Anjou left the siege of Rochelle for the Polish crown; and four months after his coronation, he fled from Poland by night, as a fugitive, on horseback, accompanied by seven attendants. The Poles, dismayed and humiliated by the procedure, fixed a limit for his return, and when that period had expired, they declared the throne to be vacant, and proceeded to a new election.

Stephen Bathory, the duke of Transylvania, was the successful candidate. Under his short reign, Poland saw the last years of its prosperity; and from the epoch of his death, the spirit of faction prevailed over every sentiment of justice or patriotism. The king had no further authority to concede; and internal feuds, sustained by the most bitter passions, now divided the nobility.

It was in 1586 that king Stephen died. At that time Poland extended from Brandenburgh and Silesia to Esthonia; its power along the Baltic was undisputed; and the shores of the Euxine had as yet submitted to no other dominion. Wallachia and Hungary were its southern limits; while, in the east, it still contended with Russia for an extended frontier. Its soil was productive of the most valuable returns; its plains were intersected by navigable rivers; its population amounted to sixteen millions, and its resources seemed to promise the means of easily sustaining more than three-fold that number. The principle of religious equality was recognized by its law; and it believed itself to possess a greater degree of liberty than any nation of Europe. How could such a state, so magnificent in its resources, so commanding in its actual strength, so celebrated for daring valour, sink into the gloom and debility of anarchy? How could such a nation in its glory submit to unconnected activity, and, like the fabled Titan, suffer the birds of prey to gorge upon its vitals, without one effectual struggle in self-defence?

The wildest spirit of party was displayed at the next election of a king. The factions were respectively led by two powerful and ambitious families; and to the former evils in the state were now added those political feuds, fostered by the passion for aggrandizement, and rendered virulent by the excess of personal hatred. The dominant party declared Sigismund III. to be elected the king of Poland.

The new king was, unluckily, first, an imbecile and narrow-minded man, with all the obstinacy belonging to weakness; next, he was heir to the Swedish throne; thirdly, he was a bigotted Catholic; and, lastly, and for Poland the saddest of all, he lived to reign forty-five years. His blind stupidity left the storms of party to rage unrestrained, and the usurpations of the nobility to proceed unchecked: his hereditary claim on Sweden, which wisely rejected his right, and preferred Gustavus Adolphus, led to a war, in which Poland was the chief sufferer; his bigotry prevented him from healing the intestine divisions by wise toleration; and, finally, his long life gave almost every one of his neighbours an opportunity of aggrandizement by aggressions on his realm. The dismemberment of the Polish dominions began. The Porte secured Moldavia; the Swedes took possession of Livonia and Courland; and, though the short anarchy in Russia led to some success in that quarter, it was a greater loss that the Elector of Brandenburgh, contrary to the stipulations of ancient treaties, claimed and obtained the succession to the fief of the Prussian Dutchy. In short, the reign of Sigismund was marked by deadly errors of policy, and foolish obstinacy of character. The continued oppression of the peasantry, and the constant recurrence of eventual losses in wars, were in no degree compensated by the display of warlike virtues on the part of a democratic nobility.

It was of little advantage to the Poles, that Ladislaus IV., the son and successor of Sigismund, was a man of distinguished merit. At his accession the nobles devised a new condition. Hitherto they had guarded themselves against taxation; they now proceeded to tax the king. For a long period, one quarter of the income of the royal domains had been set apart for the military service, especially for the artillery; they now demanded a concession of a full moiety. But, it may be asked, what was done for the people? The answer would be, absolutely nothing. It did not seem to be imagined, that the labouring class had any rights; not a law was proposed for the benefit of the millions, who cultivated the soil. Even the peasants on the estates of the king were equally oppressed;—why? It was the nobles who farmed the royal domains.

Every thing stagnated. Every thing, do we say? The natural instinct of freedom in the Cossacks could brook their abject servitude no longer. They reclaimed their partial independence, complained that their rights were infringed, and found demagogues, who were desirous and were able to lead them.

At this crisis the king died, and his brother, John Casimir, a man tried by misfortunes, who, having been the inmate of a French dungeon, afterwards, from disappointment and chagrin, became a Jesuit and a Cardinal, was elected his successor.

The powers and the revenues of the king had been plundered; one thing more was alone wanting to give full development to the Polish constitution. In the year 1652, a diet was dissolved by the opposition of a single deputy; this was remarkable enough; but it was still more strange, that what had been once effected by passion, should remain an acknowledged right; and that while the country rung with curses against the deputy who had set the example, the power should still have been claimed as a sacred privilege. No redress could be obtained except by confederations; and it was now the height of anarchy, that public law recognized these separate assemblies. Indeed, the days of the liberum veto were necessarily the days of legalized insurrection. It was a sort of dictatorship, invented for the new contingency. Only the misery was, that there could be as many confederations as there were separate factions.

Poland had, all this while, formidable foreign enemies to encounter. The Swedes, the Czar, the Porte, were all greedy for aggrandizement. This was no time for domestic dissensions. The only wonder is, that the nation could have resisted its enemies at all. As it was, several provinces were lost; in 1657, the Duke of Prussia seized the opportunity of freeing himself altogether from his relation as vassal to the Polish crown.

The melancholy Casimir could not endure all this. He held a diet in 1661, and told the deputies plainly: "First or last, our state will be divided by our neighbours. Russia will extend itself to the Bug, and perhaps to the Vistula; the Elector of Brandenburgh will seize upon Great Poland and the neighbouring districts; and Austria will not remain behind, but will take Cracau and other places." The prophecy was uttered in vain; and a few years after, the philosophic monarch, having buried his wife, for whose sake alone he had been willing to reign, resigned the crown, and removed to France.

This was a new state of things. A diet of election was convened, and the decree ratified, that henceforward no king of Poland should be allowed to resign. One would think the decree very flattering to the nation!

The next object was the choice of a king. We have seen, that the Poles had usually elected a member of the previous royal family. They had adhered to the Jagellons, and now also to the Sigismunds, until the families were extinct. The field was therefore open; and this time the division lay, not between contending factions of the high aristocracy, but between the high aristocracy, on the one hand, and the "plebeian nobility," on the other. The party of "the many" prevailed; and the electoral vote was given to Michael Wisniowiecki, a man of great private worth, poor, as to his fortunes, modest, and retiring. The joy of the inferior nobility was at its height; and the shouts of the noble multitude, and the salutes from the artillery, proclaimed aloud the triumphs of equality. Poor Michael declined the honour, in vain. He entreated, with tears in his eyes, to be released from it. His tears were equally vain. He made his escape from the electoral field on horseback; the deputies pursued him and compelled him to be king.

From the commencement of his reign the faction of the high aristocracy opposed him. The first diet which he convened was broken up; the senate was openly discontented; the enthusiasm of the nobility grew cool; and it was found that a mistake had been committed. The Cossacks were tumultuous; the Turks pursued a ruinous war, terminated only by a disgraceful peace. The nation was indignant; a new war was decreed; when, fortunately for himself and the state, the king died. John Sobieski, the leader of the aristocracy, succeeded.

The relief of Vienna, in 1683, is the crowning glory of Sobieski. His subsequent campaigns were unsuccessful; for he had neither sufficient troops, nor money, nor provisions, nor artillery. Nor was he happy in his family. The great champion of Christendom was governed by his wife, and the nation sneered at his weakness. His ambition as a father led him to desire, during his lifetime, the election of his son as successor. Unable to accomplish this, he took to avarice, not a very respectable passion for a private man, but a very dangerous one for a prince. But in avarice he had able auxiliaries in his wife and the Jews. Every thing was venal; and the king grew rich, without growing happy. As a last resort, he tried retirement and letters. But the pursuit of letters, in itself intrinsically exalted, must be chosen in its own right, if happiness is to be won by it; to the disappointed statesman it is but a mere shield against despair; a sort of philosopher's robe to hide the ghastliness of sullen discontent. Sobieski found in the Latin classics, which he diligently read, no healing "medicine for the soul diseased;" and the atrabilious humours of his wife, and the torment of his station, and his mental discontent, all combined to hasten his death. He passed from this world on the same hour and the same day as his election.

We have traced the progress of the infringements upon the royal authority; we have seen the election of the king decided by a faction in an oligarchy, by a rabble of noblemen, by the high aristocracy; the next election was decided by bribes. Two strong parties only appeared; the French, which declared for Conti, and the Saxon, which advocated the interests of the Elector Augustus. But the French ambassador had distributed all his money, while the Saxon envoy was still in Funds. So each party chose its own king; each made proclamation of its sovereign; each sung its anthem in the Cathedral; but the French party subsided, as soon as the primate, its chief support, could agree upon his price.

Thus the Saxon elector prevailed. He was one of the most dissolute princes of the age; and an unbounded luxury and abandoned profligacy were introduced by him among the higher orders in Poland. The morals of the nobility now became nearly as bad as their political constitution. What need have we to dwell on the personal war which Augustus II. commenced against Charles XII. of Sweden; the defeats he sustained; his forced resignation of the crown; the appointment of Stanislaus in his stead; and his own restoration after the battle of Pultawa? The leading point in his history is this: that with him the Russian ascendency in Poland was established. All the rest of Europe was rapidly advancing in culture; the only change in Poland was the predominance of Russia.

On the death of Augustus II. the majority of the votes was in favour of Stanislaus; but the vicinity of a Russian army sustained the pretensions of Augustus III. His reign, if reign it may be termed, extended through a period of thirty years. They were interrupted by no wars; not because the nation desired or profited by peace, but in consequence of the general inertness, the universal languor, the unqualified anarchy. The king possessed no power, except through the miserable expedients of an intriguing cabinet. The cities were deserted; the regular administration of justice was unknown; and the barbarism of the middle ages reverted. Nothing preserved Poland in existence, but the jealousies of surrounding powers.

The last king of Poland was chosen under the dictation of Russian arms, at the express desire of Catharine the Second. Stanislaus Poniatowski was crowned at Warsaw in 1764, and ascended the throne with philanthropic intentions, but with a feeble purpose. His reign illustrates the vast inferiority of the virtues of the heart to the virtues of the will. The difficulties of his position do not excuse his own imbecility; and while the paralysis of the nation was complete, he was himself deficient in the manly virtues of a sovereign.

Within nine years after his accession to the throne, the first dismemberment of Poland was consummated. The student of human nature might ask, by what mighty armies the division was effected? What overwhelming force could lead a nation of nobles to submit to the degradation? What bloody battles were fought, what victories were won in the struggle? It might be supposed, that all Poland would have started as if electrified; that the ground would have been disputed, inch by inch; that every town would have become a citadel, garrisoned by the stern lovers of independence and national honour.

The fall of Poland was ignominious. Not one battle was fought, not one siege was necessary for effecting the division. Anarchy, intolerance, scandalous dissensions, an imbecile sovereign, these were the instruments which accomplished the ruin of the state.

The personal adherents of Stanislaus had designed to change the form of government from a legal anarchy to a limited monarchy. This patriotic design of the Czartorinskis was defeated by the hot-headed zeal of the republican party, by the influence of Russia, and most of all, by the excesses of intolerable bigotry.

The dissidents had, in the early part of the century, incurred suspicion, as the secret adherents of Sweden. If in England, where culture had made such advances, the Catholics could be disfranchised, is it strange, that in Poland, a vehement party was opposed to the toleration of Protestants? In 1717, unconstitutional enactments had been made to their injury; and at subsequent periods, the religious tyranny had proceeded so far as to exclude the dissident from all civil privileges. They were excluded from the national representation, and declared incapable of participating in any public magistracy whatever.

On the accession of Stanislaus it was hoped that a more moderate and equitable spirit would prevail. Stanislaus himself favoured the cause of religious freedom. The dissidents made a very moderate request for the establishment of freedom of worship, without claiming the restitution of all their franchises. The zealots, strengthened by the opponents of the king, would concede absolutely nothing; and as in politics religious parties have always exhibited the most deadly hostility, so in this case Poland was more distracted than ever.

The Russian ambassador immediately seized the opportunity of making Russian influence predominant under the mask of protecting liberty of conscience. The empress demanded for the dissidents a perfect equality with the Catholics; and amidst scenes of tumultuous discussion and legislative frenzy, the demand was rejected. The highest religious zeal became combined with a detestation of Russian interference, and unbridled passion accomplished its utmost.

The dissidents, unsuccessful in their application to the diet, confederated under Russian protection; and as the proceedings of the king had excited a vague apprehension of some encroachments on the privileges of the nobles, the confederates were joined by the opponents of the king also. In this way a general confederation was formed agreeably to the established usage in Poland; but the whole was under the guidance and control of Repnin, the Russian ambassador.

When the general diet was convened in 1767, so large a Russian army was already encamped in Poland, that Repnin was able to dictate the petitions and the complaints which were to be presented for consideration. No foreign power interfered. France and Austria were exhausted; and Frederic was careful to preserve a good understanding with his great Northern ally.

But with all this, some refractory spirits appeared in the diet. No terrors could subdue the inflexible and impassioned spirit of Soltyk, Zaluski, and the two Rzewuskis. And what was done by an ambassador of the foreign power in the capital of a free and mighty state? Repnin ordered the resolute patriots to be seized by night and transported to Siberia. Horror chilled the nation at the outrage, and the rage of despair filled all but the partisans of Russia. The ambassador of Catharine was now able to dictate to the diet all the decrees relating to the dissidents, and all the other laws which were enacted at the session. It was plain, that he did not understand the wants of the dissidents; but he took care to render the continuance of Russian interference necessary for their security.

It was the misfortune of the Polish patriots, that the defence of their nationality became identified with the most furious form of religious bigotry. The diet had not terminated its session before a new confederation convened at Bar, and contending against the Russians on the one hand, attempted to depose the king on the other. But the confederation was easily dissolved by the Russian army, and its leaders were obliged to fly for refuge beyond the frontier.

Thus the cause of the Poles seemed to be abandoned by all the world. The efforts of the king were insignificant; the nobles were many of them in the pay of Russia, the rest of them divided by civil, religious, and family factions; and England and France were idle spectators of the approaching dissolution of the Polish state.

Yet one power there was, whose ancient maxim would not allow a Russian army in Poland. While all the Christian monarchs neglected or joined to pillage the unhappy land, the Porte declared war against the aggressor. The issue of that contest is well known; and the power of Russia was but the more confirmed by her entire success in the war. Russian ascendancy in the North and East became established, and the last hope of Poland was removed.

When at length the three principal powers invaded Poland, and published their manifesto, proclaiming its dismemberment, the nation submitted almost without a struggle. The blow came as upon one in a lethargy. The revelries of the wealthy nobility, the feuds of the great families, and the wretchedness of the peasantry, continued as before.

It may be asked, who first planned the partition of Poland? We believe it was Frederic. Austria was indeed the first to advance her frontier; but every thing tends rather to show, that the Austrian cabinet insisted upon its share, only because the robbery was at all events to be committed; and Russia had no interest in proposing a division, for she already virtually possessed the whole. Frederic, on the contrary, was earnestly desirous of consolidating and uniting his kingdom, of which the parts were before divided by Polish provinces.

Previous to this first division in 1773, Poland had possessed a territory of about 220,000 miles; her neighbours now left her about 166,000. Prussia and Austria would gladly have taken more; but Russia protected the residue, as prey reserved for herself.

Or rather, the Russian ambassador in Warsaw, was from that time the real sovereign over the land. A secret article in the treaty with Prussia guaranteed the liberties and constitution of Poland, that is, stipulated that the state of anarchy should continue.