Newspaper Page Text
Jun &«, if your repentance ig sincere, implore
tl e divine goodness; it will not abandon you.
Fake your confession.”
Thereupon, the priest uncovered himself,
and after pronouncing the sublime words,
which opefl to the penitent the gates of heaven,
he hsteni ti to the beggar.
“ Tho non of a poor farmer, honored with
the nffriclions of a family of high rank, whost
lands rtty father cultivated, 1 v;aa from my in
fancy welcomed at tiie castlo of my masters.
Destined to be a valed de chambre to the heir
of the family, the education they gave me, rny
Mpid progress in study, and (he benevolence
of my u islers, changed my condition; I was
raised to the rank of secretary. I was just
turned out of twenty-five vents of age, when
the revolution first broke out in Fiance, my
mind was easily seduced by reading the newse
papers of that period; my ambition made me
tired of my precarious situation. I conceived
the project of abandoning for the camp, the
casile which had been the asylum of my youth.
Had I followed that first impulse, ingratitude
would have saved me from a crime. The fury
of the revolutionists, soon spread through the
provinces; my masters, fearing- to be arrested
in their castle, dismissed all their servants A
surn of money was realized tn haste, and se
lecting fr<>m their rich furniture a few articles
precious tor family recollections, they went to
Pans to seek an asylum in the crowd, and find
repose tn the obscurity of their dwelling. I
followed them, as a child Os the house. Terror
reigned uncontrolled throughout France, and
nobody knew the place of concealment of my
masters; Inscribed on the list of emigrants,
confiscation had soon devoured their properiy;
but It was nothing to them, for they were to
gether, tranquil and unknown. Animated bv
a lively faith in Providence, they lived in ihe
expectation ol better times. Vain hope ! the
only person who could reveal their retreat,
and snatch them from their asvlum, had the
baseness io denounce them This informer is
myself. The father, the mother, four daugh
ters, angels in beauty and innocence, and a
young boy of ten years of age, were thrown
together into a dungeon, and delivered up to
to the horrors of captivityr Their trial com
IDcnced.
The most frivilous pretences were then
sufficient to condemn the innocent; vet the
public accuser could hardly find on< motive
for persecution against that noble and virtuous
family. A man was found, who was the con
fid'mt of their secrets and their most intimate
thoughts; he magnified die most simple cir ,
curnatanci s "f their lives into guilt, and mven
ted the frivolous crime of conspiracy. This
calumniator, this false witness. 1 am he. The
fatal sentence of death was passed upon the
whole family, except il;o young son, and an
unhappy orphan, destined to weep the loss of
nil bis kindred, and curse the assassin, if he
ever knew him. Resigned, and finding con
eolation in their virtues, that unfortunate fam
ily expected death imprison. A mistake took
place in the order of the executions. The dav
appointed for theirs passed over, and if nobody
bad meddled with it, they would have escaped
vho scuffuld, it being the ove of the ninth of
Tbcr mtdor.
A man impatient io enrich himself with their
spoih, repaired to the revolutionary ribunal,
caused the error to be rectified; his zeal was
Fewaided with a diploma ofcivism. The order
for their execution was delivered immediately,
and on that very evening the frightful justice
of these timga had its course. The wicked
informer, lam he. At the close of the day,
bv torch fight, the fatal cart transported that
family to death ! The father, with the impress
of profound sorrow on his brow, p in his
urnm his two youngest daughters; the mother,
a heroic and Christian like woman, did the
same with the two eldest; and all mingling
’heir recollections, their tears and their hopes,
were repealing th funeral prayer. Tliev did
~wi wtitu the name nt their assassin.
And it was late, me execution. Ln(Io accus
tomed to the horrible work, the valet on the
way, begged the assistant o of a passer by.
The tatter consented to help turn Ins ignoble
function. This man, is myself. The reward
of so many crimes was a sum of three thou
sand francs tn gold; and the precious articles,
st ill deposed heio mound me are the wttneses
of my guilt.
After I had committed this crime, I tried to
bury Hie rrcollrclirrn of it in debauchery, .he
gold obtained I y intumons conduct was hardly
spent, when remorse took possession of m\
soul. No project, no enterprise, no labour ot
mine was crooned with success. I become
pn< rm d infirm. Charity allowed me a privi
leged place at the gate of the church, where I
have passed so many years. The reinem- 1
brance of tny crime was overwhelming; sot
poignant, that despairing of divine goodness, I
t'.rvi r dared implore iho consolation of reli
gion, nor enter the church. The alms i re- !
rei'ed, yours especially , Mr. \bbe, aided nip '
to hoard a sum equal to that I stole from mv
f >nuer masters; here it is. The objects of i
1 txt : y winch you remark tn mv room, tins
watch, this crucifix, this book, »h-s*e y«-’e.|.
portraits, wee taken from inv victims. Oh!
how l“ng and profound has my repentance I
been, but how powerless ’ Mr. Abbe, do vnu j
believe i can hope lor pardon from (iod ?” ;
“ My son,” replied the Abbe, “ your crime •
rn doubt is frightful: the circumstances ot i (
u»e atrocious. Orphans, who were deprived (
«>f their patents by the revolution, understand 1
bcttei than any one else, all the bitterness <> I
iS- a' giHsh suffered by your victims \ who't
I ■ | s . d m tear', is not too much tor ti.e
< \;>t; ~ii nos such a crime. Yet lhe treasures
« f tin me mercy are immense. Relying on
' u repent nice, and full of confidence in the
it.« * * wi.tible goodness ot God, I think 1 can
b'- . e you of his pardon.”
Th«-pries t then rose up. The beggar, as
if a moated by new life, got out of bed and
fan it down. The Abbe Ptuhn de Saint (’.
yr ereurev the rowerful werds
which bind or loosen the sing of man* whan
the beggar cried out:
“ .Father, wait ! before I receive God’s
pardon, let me get rid of the fruit of my crimes.
Take these object’, sell them, distribute the
price to the poor.” In his hasty movements,
the begenr snatched away the crape which
covered the two pictures. “ Behold I 4 ’ said
he—behold the august images of my mas
ters I”
At the si.’hr, the /Abbe Paulin de Saint C.
let these words escape “My lather Imy
mother !”
Immediately, the remembrance of that hor
rible catastrophe, the presence of the assassin,
the sight of these objects seized upon the
soul of the priest, and yielding to an unexpect
ed emotion, be fell upon a chair. His bead
leaning ou his hands, he shed abundant tears ;
a deep wound had opened afresh in his heart.
The beggar, overpowered, not daring to lilt
up his looks on the son of his masters, on ihe
terrible and angry judge, who owed him ven
gence rather than pardon, rolled himselt at his
feet, bedewed them with tears and repeated in
a tone of despair— 44 My mastei ! rny mas
ter I”
The priest endeavored, without looking at
him, to check his grief. The beggar cried
out :
“ Yes, Tam an assassin, a monster, an in
famous wretch, M. Abbe dispo-e of my life I
W hat must I do to avenge you ?”
‘ 4 Avenge me’” replied the priest, recalled
to himself by these words—“ avenge me un
happy man?”
•• Was I not then right in saying that my
crime was beyond pardon ? I knew it well,
that religion itself would repulseme. Repen
tance will avail nothing to a criminal of so
deep a dye; there is no forgiveness for me
no more paidon—no forgiveness I”
These last words, pronounced with a terri
ble accent, reached to the soul of the priest,
his mission and his duties. The struggle be
tween filial grief and the egercise of his sacred
functions ceased immediately. Human weak
ness had for a moment claimed the tears of
ihe saddened son. Religion then sttred the
soul of tho servaat ot God. Tl e priest took
hold of the crucifix, his paternal inheritance,
which had fallen into the hands of this unhap
py man, and presenting n to the beggar, he
said in the strong accents of emotion,
“ Chiistian, is your repentance sincere ?”
“Yrs.”
“ Is yojr crime the object of profound hor
ror?”
44 Yes.”
44 Our God, it/molated on this cross by
men, gran s you pardon. Finish your confes
sion.”
Then the priest, with one hand uplifted over
ihe beggar, holding in the other the sign of
our redemption bade the divine mercy descend
on he assassin of his whole family.
VViih his face against the earth, the beggar
remained immovable at the priests feet. The
latter stretched out his hand to raise him up—
he was dead.
John Dudley, of Deerfield, was a Captain
in the militia. H<! was an old bachelor, had
an old maid lor a housekeeper, and tilled the
ground like an honest man. He was acquain
ted with Governor Wentworth, and frequently
called upon him when at Portsmouth, that he
might tell his rustic neighbors how thick he
was with his Excellency. To add to this im
portance, lie once invited the gov rnor to cal
upon bun at Deerfield, on his way into the
country; and tho Governor promised to do so
The captain expected ihe visit some time in a
certain week, and kept near his house busily
engaged as usual. One very warm day ht>
house keeper came puffing into the field to
inform him that a grand carriage, which must
he tho Governor’s was at a little distance.
The captain ran into the house and hardly hau
time to slip on his military red coat and cock
ed hat, ere his Excellenc drove up. With
his trusty sword in hand, D ran into the street
and assuming a true captain like sirup, paid a
martial salute to his Excellency, who on be
holding him, burst into a hearty laugh. This
rather discomposed ihe man of the sword; bu
bur he was put to immediate flight by the fol
lowing speech of the Governor. “ Captain
Dudley, I am glad to see xou, but think vour
appearance as a military man would be imnro
ved, if you were to add to your uniform a pair
of breechesan article which the good cap
tain tn lus haste to Ins respects, had entirely
forgotten..
An old Connecticut farm a r, who cherished
an inveterate antipathy against pedlars, was
once accosted by one of these travelling mer
chants with—-
” Good morning, sir. Couldn’t I sell you
some of my goods to day ?”
“ Well, I don’t know —very possible you
nil; >’ —let’s see what you’vu got ”
i'h? pedlar accorJiug’y tinshonlde red his
park, and displayed them temptingly to the
examination of the farmer.
Is that all you have to sei! !” said the
farmer.
“ y< «—what more do you want ?”
“ W by, I want a good largo sized grind
st<»ne.’’
“ Do you suppose. «ir, that I would carry
grindstones no h rs< t.ack
“ I beg paidno,’ s.itl the farmer, “ I reallv
thought yon was a foot.''—
Jietirt Con. Irons. have somewhere
met w.’ii ihe following anecdote, tn my veers
since:—\n t-creutnc L wv« r. by tno name <>i
J u, m some p-n of \\ orcester romi’v,
[Ma". I now dc-.«.i, was in the habit of em'k
ng and cati*»gany sort es amino! or repftle
ibat came to hand. At a public house m M or
i cester, a young limb of the lan, jokmg him oa
I nis omnivorous projiensity, m<imr* d if he ever
Ie tadpoles.
“ I never d J. but ehou’d no: sea” :? do so :
though i have no doubt they tvould prove Fatal
to you.”
44 Why so?” inquired the young lawyer.
“ Because,” replied Johnson, 44 farmers say
that tadpoles always kill goslins.”
Typographical Error,The funniest typo
graphical error that we recollect, was "one iu
Freneau’s paper, in Philadelphia, when Con
gress met tn that City. It was the rule in that
paper it.at the names of speakers should be set
in small capitals. On one occasion the cus
tom was departed from by the compositor.
One of the members, the day previous, had
made a flourishing speech, which was reported
in full- Thu name appeared at top, in prin
ters parlance, in lower case. The proof rea
der struck his pen across the name, and wrote
on Ihe margin, 44 small caps.’’ So the correc
tor foilowing copy, as in duty bound, inserted
the Words literally, and the Philadelphia Ga
zette came out on that day with a close page,
at the head of which were the woids, “ Mr.
Small Cap’s Speech.”
Folly.— Nonsense is to sense, like shade to
light, making by constrast what is beautiful
still more beautiful; it is like an intended dis
cord in a delicious melody, making the next
concord sweeter; like silent sleep after sor
rowful wakefulness; the calm which succeeds
a storm; like cheerfulness after care; conde
scension after hauteur.
POL IT SCAD?
From the Democrat.
Remarks on South Carolina nullification
and the founders of that school, Messis.
Calhoun, McDuffie, Ilavne and Hamilton,
embracing their new allies.
NO. 11.
All the Republics that have gone before us
have disappeared. The Grecian Republics
were once the pride and ornament of the hu
man race. They were the seal of the muses.
They were the nursery of poetry, philosophy,
eloquence, and all the fine arts. They en
dured for .several hundred years, the purest
democracy that ever existed. The Roman
Republics comprehended the forest portion of
the earth, and were the great rivals of Greece
tn all these splended attainments; nnd, like
her, for a long time maintained their demo
cratic principles under different forms of gov
ernment. They were both swept from the
face of the earth, ages ago, and blotted out
forever. Their proud cities, where once the
unrivalled eloquence of Demosthenes and
Cicero, poured forth in defence of civil liberty
and the rights of man, made tyrants and trai
tors crouch beneath its torrent, have long
since become the haunts of wild beasts, or the
abodes of despotism.
In modern times the United Republics of
Holland shed new hopes upon the rights oj
democracy. But alter spilling oceans of blood
to shake offthe yoke of a Spanish despot, and
uniting in solemn league for their mutual de
fence and protection, this boasted democracy
lasted not more than one hundred and fifty
wears. This republic is now divided out into
petty despotisms, where the common people
have no more share in the administration of the
government under which they live, and under
which their rights are insolently tramoled in
the dust, than the horses or tho oxen that
graze in their fields.
These are deplorable and melancholy histo
rical facts that nobody will question. Those
people in the days of their prosperity believed
iheir liberty imperishable. They enjoyed
ihat liberty in a higher degree and greater pu
rity than we have ever done. They believed,
is many people in our country now believe,
• hat whilst they were there to watch over it,
io human device could destroy a well estab
lished Republican government, in which all
he people enjoyed equal rights. But we know
tney were deceived. May we not be deceiv
d? Have we any more right to count on
tie continuance of our democratic govern
ment than the Greeks and Romans had, if the
<iiiir cause for its destruction exist with us
which existed with them? If we will but ex
amine, impartially, without regaid to men or
measures, the causes that produced the over
throw of iheir governments, we shall find to
exist in a much higher degree in our country.
The Grecian and Roman Republics did not
fall by the hand of a single tyrant, but by the
<>v< rwhelrning corruption of their Senators,
• ravelling orators, and their public councils.
Men selected by the people to watch over
their public liberties, but who betrayed that
sacred trust in pursuit of their own elevation
to power, regardless of the means by which
they might attain it.
Or how can we expect to escape the borors
of a civil war, and the dreadful butcheries of
the French Revolution, that has but just pass
ed before us, which drenched that devoted
country m blond, and laid w is e the whole
continent <4 Europe for m m than twenty
years, if the same boH ind restless ambit ion
after power, which governed ihe French Con
vention, has become the watch w.-nl of vout
nullitiers, and ihe ruling passion in the Con
gress of the United States?
At the most depraved period of the Roman
Senate, profligate as it was, there was not a
member of that corrupt body fired with a I
more unholy zeal for power than ihe leaders
r>f nullification. Nor was there a greater lust
for empire in the memorable French Convert
non in tl.e days of the bloody Robespierre
thin now rages in the Senate of the United
States.
it there should be any one who might thinfc
’his too b<>!d, let him read the histones of Cai
line's Conspiracy, of Caesar’s usurpation.-
and of Robespierre’s Jacobin Clubs' and com
pare »h»-m wph the short, but fVeiitful htsio
.4 nullification, and with th» - long, but che<-
’r» d history of the nu mbers of the new coi
•tiimri. ami he will find they were not surpas
sed by C itihne, Caesar, Robespierre, or an
2mb’.::cv! 2«v>rar.’, who had goce before
them—For what did Catiline do which Mr
Calhoun has not done ? He has displayed
the same turbulent anxiety after power; am
obtruded what he calls his claims, upon tin
people with the same restless impetuosity
\nd in fact, he has trodden in the very foot
steps of Cat,line himself.
Catiline obtruded himself twice, as a randi
date for the consulship, the highest office n
the gift of the Roman people. But they de
dined his unsolicited services. '1 hey prefer
red choosing a candidate themselves, to fil|
that high and responsible office.
Mr. Calhoun obtruded himself twice as a
candidate for the Presidency, the highest office
in the gift of the American people. But they
declined his unsolicited services. They pre
ferred choosing a candida'e themselves, to
fill that high and responsible office.
Catiline, when he found the Roman people
would not elect him first consul, conspired to
overthrow the Roman Republic, or t« place
himself at the head of it.
Mr. Calhoun when he found the American
people would not elect him president, conspir
ed to overthrow the American Republic, or to
place himselfat the head of it.
Catiline, when Cicero accused him with a
conspiracy against the Roman Republic, de
nied the charge, positively and unequivocally;
and imputed it to the malice and jealousy of
Cicero, who was ihe people’s candidate to de
stroy his popularity; when it was well known
he had already organised his party, and was
then organizing his army.
Mr. Calhoun, when accused, in 1830 31,
of being a nulliner, und a derminafion io op
pose the laws of the- United Stales, he dented
both charges, positively a d uncquivolly; and
imputed it to the malice and jealousy of
General Jacksun, who was the people’s
candidate to destroy his popularity; when it
was well knov/n he had already organized his
party, and was then organizing his army.
Catiline,, was a man of great vigor of mind;
had great facility in conciliating his political
opponents, and attaching them to his party,
and making new political converts. And es
pecially if he could meet an honest man in
some, hidden corner, or in some retired cham
her , where, if ho could only draw him into his
friendship, by iamiliari'y and daily exercising
him in conversation, he could easily ensnare
him by the same allurements bv which he hud
caught others. These allurements wore,
something to gratify the favorite passion of
each individual. To some he held out the
temptation of great wealth, but more especial
ly their promotion to high offices of honor and
profit, which Cicero and his favorites were en
joying tn great excess, whilst ilioy had been
entirely overlooked. (Sallust on the Catiline
Conspiracy.)
Mr. Calhoun a man of considerably mind
clso; not however equal to Callline’s, if we are
to believe Sallust. But in his assiduity to
conciliate his political opponents, or making
new political cenverts, and attaching them to
his party, be is as happy as ever Catiline was;
and by the same means. Some private cor
ner or retired chamber, are the great theatres
in which he makes his most faithful tuillifiers.
There he unfolds the beauties of nullification!
tells how General Jackson and his few favor
ites are enjoying all the high offices, and how
improperly he has overlooked the high claims
of the subject he is then operating on And
should lie, Mr. Calhoun, be elected the next
president his claims shall be attended io
These are facts which can be established
whenever Mr. Calhoun will deny them,
Catiline had seduced into his conspiracy,
many Romans of Senatorial dignity, and many
men of figure, from the different provinces.
Mr. Calhoun has seduced into his nullifica
tion, many Americans of Senatorial dignity,
and men offigure, from the different States.
Cauline, when preparing to plunge his
country into a civil war, and blotting the de
struction of Cicero, addressed his party in the
following manner:
I have engaged in an enterprize of the high
est importance and greatest glory. And my
ardor daily increases to put it in execution
when I consider the burdens and oppression,
which the despots of oui country have doom
rd us to bear, unless we can recover our liber
ty. Since the government has come under
tlio control and management of a few, we are
nothing but a sorry mob, we have no interest;
we have no power; but we are the slaves of
those to whom we should be a terror, were the
State in its due vigor. All sway, preferment,
interest, and riches are now in their hands, < r
those of their fav ntea; to os they left
nothing but dangers, the terror of tribunals,
and the buffeting of poverty. How long will
you tamely submit to these indignities? Js it
not better to die in a brave attempt than io
drag a wietched and infamous life ? We have
nothing; our condition is bad and our expecta
tion much worse; Finally, what have we left
but i wretched life? Rouse then inaction !
behold the object you have so often wish* d
foi ' behold liberty ! and in her train, glory
and honor. In this great cause I (isle for no
power. you may use me as you please; I have
no choice, you may make me you. leader, or,
if you prefer it, you may place me in the ranks
as a private soldier But place me where
you w ill, I shall al ways be with you. They
have persecuted and reviled me; they have du- |
prived me of the honor due rny public services; j
and they have raised the most profligate aecu- j
sation ./gainst me, because 1 li ive according to ;
mv known habit, undertaken to defend the \
cause of the oppressed. L'or we have no de*ire j
for power or riches: Liber yis our aim; that I
m-rty which no biavc m m will lose but with
ns life. We call Gods and men to witness,
mt we have not taken up arms against our
.untry or any particular person, but to defend
os'lves from oppression. Wherefore wc
mjore you to espouse the imersls «f your
retched fellow- citizens, to restore to us the
relection of the laws, .orn from us by the >ne
, ity of the Consult?. (Cicero was then fust
Consul.)
At tho conclusion ol Lis address, he added;
Ul spero vo'iiscum ano consul agam; nisi forte
■ lie animus jallit, el vos service magis, im
ne.rare, parati ti eslis. (Translated will read:)
Hut 1 hope to act as Consul with you in this
enterprise, if, I am not deceived in my opinion
of y oU t unless you should prefer slavery to em
pire, (Sec Sallust, on the Catiline conspira
cy•)
Mr, Calhoun about a year ago crossed over
mto Georgia, to instruct the good people of
that State in the science of nullification. And
whilst there was invited bv his pupils to dina
with them. This he declined from extreme
delicacy, of winch he is so highly girted, in a
written answer. The following is extracted
from that answer. He says:
Perceiving, as 1 elearlv did, several rears
ago, a strong tendency in the Federal govern
ment to substitute its will in the place of the
constitution; and firmly believing that faction,
anarchy,*corruption and despotism would be
the result, I felt’it a sacred and paramount du
ty to the country to oppose so fatal a tendency
with every faculty that providenc had bestow
ed oo me. Nor did I doubt that with a view
of weakening me, and thro’ me, the cause,
charges the most profligate would be made a
gainst me, however pure and disinterested
might be my motives. With this view, and in
order to demonstrate, as far as acts could do,
that i sought no lead, nor any personal advan
tages, he declined the invitation. Should our
constitution and liberty be restored, 7 asfcno
more. I shall be sattisfied be my fate ivhat it
may. But until they are restored, J hold my
self nothing and the cause in which 1 am en*
gaged every thing. I utter it under painful
but solemn conviction of its tr ’th, f'tar we are
no longer a free people. Ii belongs to slaves
and not freemen, to measure their servitude
by the tyranny actually felt The govern
ment has assumed a despotic poxver. Its
progress will soon be traced in blood. The
pressure of despotic power will first fall on us;
and if we do not meet it, with tho determined
spirit ol freemen, ready to sacrifice all rather
than surrender our liberty, our doom will bo
fixed forever. In denouncing these odious
acts, my object is to arouse you to a spee
dy rescue of vour liberty and the consti
tution. (Sse this answer in the Columbia Tel
escope, Sept. 17th, 1833.)
Mr. Calhoun did not say to his Georgia put
pils: That he hoped to act as presiden
with them in that enterprise, if ho was not de
ceived in his opinion of them, unless they
should prefer slavery to empire. But het
might as well have said so, fur every body
knows he intended it.
I will here cease the analogy between tfmso
two devoted lovers of civil liberty: One •»
Roman Patrician, who would have over
whelmed the Roman Republic in civil blood,
to glut his ambition; and iho o'hcr, mi Ameri
can Senator, who would have broken this U i
ion into flmders, at the price of blood, for tiio
same object.
I cannot ptwceive iti the portal ten I history of -*
Caessr and Mr. Calhoun, that ha possesses a
single attribute of Caesar’s character, except
his lust for power; and even in that, there are
many shades of distinction. With this single
remark 1 pass on to the history of the memo
rable Robespierre, and see if there be any
similiarity in the political career of these two 1
modern lovers of civil liberty. This enquiry
will be short, as the leading traits in both
are fresh in the recollection of most of our
countrymen.
I he analogy in the political history of Jfjr.
Calhoun and Rolespieri'e are strongly marked.
For I will ask, who can imagine any essential ,
difference between Rolespterre’s Guillotine,
and Calhoun's Test Oath-, one, the instrument
of immediate death; the other, the instrument J
of protracted tortu e? Both constructed for the
same nurpose, to pavo the way, of the respec
tive parties lo supreme-jnrwer.
Ro|e«pierre. the cool-blooded tyrant, ae he
is called Mr. Russell, the historian, and hi«r
coadjutors, Mural and Danton, were the men
who defeated the mild government proposed
by the immortal La Fayette. They Were
over heated Republicans. Civil liberty, and
relief from oppression and desposition wore
their constancy. The streets of Paris ro
sounded with it, until they placed themselves j
at the head of the national convention, and
formed the J icobin dubs, which sealed the
fate of the Republic, and brought revolutions- ,
iy, France back to a state of absolute despo
tism. Under the influence of these Jacobin
clubs, the. National Convention itself became
a mere instrument n> toe hands of Robespier
e; Danton was appointed minister of Justice; ’
and the “execrable Marat,” concurred tn all
their wickedness. Armed with this power,
they began the work of destruction. They
considered it among their reserved rights,
to butcher every man who stood in th* ir way
to Empire. H bi<-h they did with an unspar
ing hand; until they gorged the very mob
winch sustained them, with mno- tut numan
blood. Robespierre, Murat tmd Danton were A
all members of the French Convention, and ”
whilst at its head, they spill more tinman blood,
in franco, to establish their party, whilst th®
ciy was for civil liberty, than was spill at th®
ten years seige of Troy; until by th®tr wanton
and murderers cruelties, they called down the
vengeance of insulted humanity upon their
own heads, and perished by the instrument
they had prepared for the destruction of those
who obs ructed their march to that throne
which Napoleon snatched from their grasp, to
give respite to a people borne down by th®
tyranny of their own representatives. (see 4
Modern Europe.)
Mr. Calhoun and his coadjutors have pro
claimed to the world, in a public law enacted
by a nullifying legislature, tn the face of the
constitution, that it is among their reserved
rights, to exact from every citizen, elected
to a military office, a T est Oath, an oath to
compel every freeman who shall refuse to
subscribe to the supremacy of nullification and |
the itJfal’tbilt’y of its unosiles, to rcf.ro to ob”