the sacred right of petition had been assailed?” The answer was that there had been such a mixture of causes. Clay then, advancing a step from the position he had formerly taken, moved that the petitions be not only received, but that they be referred to the Committee on the District of Columbia, “to act on them as they pleased.” When it was objected that such a course would provoke that most undesirable thing, argument on the slavery question, Clay answered: —
“It has been said that this is not a case for argument. Not a case for argument! What is it that lies at the bottom of all our free institutions? Argument, inquiry, reasoning, consideration, deliberation. What question is there in human affairs so weak or so strong that it cannot be approached by argument and reason? This country will, in every emergency, appeal to its enlightened judgment and its spirit of union and harmony, and the appeal will not be unsuccessful.”
These words were spoken while the extreme pro-slavery men cried out against the reception of every anti-slavery petition in the Senate, and muzzled the House with gag rules, feeling instinctively that free argument was just the thing slavery could not endure. Free argument on slavery was what the abolitionists demanded, and Clay, advocating the same thing, soon found himself denounced as one of them.
In the nineteenth century slavery could live only if surrounded by silence. Calhoun knew this well, but, as if impelled by the evil fate of his cause, he
