on the very same title that
I am. I really think that for wise men this is not judicious, for sober
men not decent, for minds tinctured with humanity not mild and merciful.
Perhaps, Sir, I am mistaken in my idea of an empire, as distinguished
from a single state or kingdom. But my idea of it is this: that an
empire is the aggregate of many states under one common head, whether
this head be a monarch or a presiding republic. It does, in such
constitutions, frequently happen (and nothing but the dismal, cold, dead
uniformity of servitude can prevent its happening) that the subordinate
parts have many local privileges and immunities. Between these
privileges and the supreme common authority the line may be extremely
nice. Of course disputes, often, too, very bitter disputes, and much ill
blood, will arise. But though every privilege is an exemption (in the
case) from the ordinary exercise of the supreme authority, it is no
denial of it. The claim of a privilege seems rather, _ex vi termini_, to
imply a superior power: for to talk of the privileges of a state or of a
person who has no superior is hardly any better than speaking nonsense.
Now in such unfortunate quarrels among the component parts of a great
political union of communities, I can scarcely conceive anything more
completely imprudent than for the head of the empire to insist, that if
any privilege is pleaded against his will or his acts, that his whole
authority is denied,--instantly to proclaim rebellion, to beat to arms,
and to put the offending provinces under the ban. Will not this, Sir,
very soon teach the provinces to make no distinctions on their part?
Will it not teach them that the government against which a claim of
liberty is tantamount to high treason is a government to which
submission is equivalent to slavery? It may not always be quite
convenient to impress dependent communities with such an idea.
We are, indeed, in all disputes with the colonies, by the necessity of
things, the judge. It is true, Sir. But I confess that the character of
judge in my own cause is a thing that frightens me. Instead of filling
me with pride, I am exceedingly humbled by it. I cannot proceed with a
stern, assured judicial confidence, until I find myself in something
more like a judicial character. I must have these hesitations as long as
I am compelled to recollect, that, in my little reading upon such
contests as these, the sense of mankind has at least as often dec
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