Again, he says:—
"Sir, the question is, whether Massachusetts will stand to the truth against temptation [that is the question]! whether she will he just against temptation! whether she will defend herself against her own prejudices! She has conquered everything else in her time; she has conquered this ocean which washes her shore; she has conquered her own sterile soil; she has conquered her stern and inflexible climate; she has fought her way to the universal respect of the world; she has conquered every one's prejudices but her own. The question is, whether she will conquer her own prejudices!"
The trumpet gives no uncertain sound; but before we prepare ourselves for battle, let us see who is the foe. What are the "prejudices" Massachusetts is to conquer? The prejudice in favour of the American idea; the prejudice in favour of what our fathers called self-evident truths; that all men "are endowed with certain unalienable rights;" that "all men are created equal," and that "to secure these rights, governments are instituted amongst men." These are the prejudices Massachusetts is called on to conquer. There are some men who will do this" with alacrity; "but will Massachusetts conquer her prejudices in favour of the "unalienable rights of man"? I think, Mr President, she will first have to forget two hundred years of history. She must efface Lexington and Bunker Hill from her memory, and tear the old rock of Plymouth out from her bosom. These are prejudices which Massachusetts will not conquer till the ocean ceases to wash her shore, and granite to harden her hills. Massachusetts has conquered a good many things, as Mr Webster tells us. I think there are several other things we shall try our hand upon, before we conquer our prejudice in favour of the unalienable rights of man.
There is one pleasant thing about this position of Mr Webster, He is alarmed at the fire which has been kindled in his rear. He finds "considerable differences of opinion prevail . . . . on the subject of that speech," and is "grateful to receive . . . . opinions so decidedly concurring with "his own,—so he tells the citizens of Newburyport. He feels obliged to do something to escape the obloquy which naturally comes upon him. So he revises his speech; now supplying an omission, now altering a
