Volume 2 — SPEECHES. (continued 18)

In this department, also, there has been a vast augmention of the expenses, and such a one as calls for a thorough investigation. The amount of the appropriation for the judicial department has sprung up from two hundred and nine thousand dollars, which it was in 1824, to four hundred and seventy-one thousand dollars, at which it stood for the year 1840. Can any man believe that this has all been fairly done? that that department actually requires the expenditure every year of nearly half a million of dollars? I have no doubt that the district judges and the marshals, who have great control of the expenditure of the fund, and the clerks, ought to be held responsible for this enormous increase. Without any intention to indulge in any invidious distinctions, I think I could name a district in which great abuses prevail, and the expenditures are four or five times greater than they are in any other district throughout the country. I hope this whole matter will be thoroughly investigated, and that some necessary restraints will be imposed upon this branch of the public service. I am truly sorry, that in a branch of the government which, for its purity and uprightness, has ever been distinguished, and which so well merits the admiration of the whole country, there should have occurred so discreditable an increase in the expenses of its practical administration.

The next resolution asserts,

‘That the diplomatic relations of the United States with foreign powers have been unnecessarily extended during the last twelve years, and ought to be reduced.’

I will not dwell long on this subject. I must remark, however, that since the days of Mr. Adams’s administration, the number of foreign ministers, of the first grade, has nearly doubled, and that of ministers of the second grade has nearly tripled. Why, we have ministers abroad, who are seeking for the governments to which they are accredited, and the governments are not to be found! We have ministers at Constantinople and Vienna, and for what? We have an unreciprocated mission to Naples, and for what? There was, at the last session, an attempt to abolish this appointment, but it unfortunately failed. One would think, that, in such a one-sided, unreciprocated diplomacy, if a regard to economy did not prompt us to discontinue the relation, national pride would. In like manner, we might look round the coasts of Europe, and of this continent, and find mission after mission which there seems to be no earthly utility in retaining. But I forbear.

On the subject of mileage, I hope there may be an effort to equalize it justly, and render it uniform, and that the same allowance will be made for the same distance travelled, whether by land, by water, or by steam route, or whether the distance be ascertained by horizontal or surface measurement. I think the former the best mode, because it limits us to a single and simple inquiry, and leaves no open door for abuses. I hope, therefore, that we shall adopt it.

The next resolution of the series reads thus:

‘Resolved, that the franking privilege ought to be further restricted, the abusive uses of it restrained and punished, the postage on letters reduced, the mode of estimating distances more clearly defined and prescribed, and a small addition to postage made on books, pamphlets, and packages transmitted by the mail, to be graduated and increased according to their respective weights.’

The franking privilege has been most direfully abused. We have already reached a point of abuse, not to say corruption, though the government has been in operation but about fifty years, which it has taken Great Britain centuries to attain. Blank envelopes, I have heard it said, ready franked, have been enclosed to individuals at a distance, who openly boasted that their correspondence is free of charge. The limitation as to the weight is now extended, I believe, to two ounces. But what of that, if a man may send under his frank a thousand of these two-ounce packages? The limitation should be to the total weight included in any single mail, whether the packages be few or many. The report of the post-master general, at a former session, states the astounding fact, that, of the whole amount transported in the mails, ninety-five per centum goes free of all duty, and letters of business and private correspondence have to defray the expense of the whole. It is monstrous, and calls loudly for some provision to equalize the charge. The present postage on letters is enormously high, in proportion to the other business of the country. If you will refuse to carry those packages, which are now transmitted by mail simply because in that mode they can travel free of cost, you will greatly relieve the business interests of the country, which now bear nearly the whole burden for all the rest. This it is your duty to do. Let us throw, at least, a fair portion of the burden on those who receive, at present, the whole of the benefit. Again. The law is very loose and uncertain as to the estimation of distances. Since the introduction of steam-travel, the distance travelled has, in many cases, been increased, while the time consumed has been shortened. Take, as an illustration, a case near at hand. The nearest distance from here to Frederick city, in Maryland, is forty-four miles; but, if you go hence to the depot on the Baltimore road, and thence take the train to Frederick, you arrive sooner, but the distance is increased to one hundred miles. Now, as letters are charged according to the miles travelled, I hold it very wrong to subject a letter to this more than double charge, in consequence of adopting a longer route in distance, though a shorter in time. Such cases ought to be provided against by specific rules.

I come now to the last resolution offered, which is as follows.

‘Resolved, that the secretaries of state, of the treasury, of war, and of the navy departments, and the postmaster general, be severally directed, as soon as practicable to report what offices can be abolished, and what retrenchments of public expenditure can be made, without public detriment, in the respective branches of the public service under their charge.’

We all know that, if the heads of departments will not go to work with us honestly and faithfully, in truth and sincerity, congress, thus unaided, can effect comparatively but little. I hope they will enter with us on this good work of retrenchment and reform. I shall be the last to express in advance any distrust of their upright intentions in this respect. The only thing that alarms me is, that two of these departments have come to us asking for appropriations far beyond any that have heretofore been demanded in time of peace, and that with the full knowledge of the fact of an empty treasury. But I still hope, when they shall see congress heartily, in earnest, engaged in retrenching useless expenditure, and reducing estimates that cannot be complied with, that they will boldly bring out to view all abuses which exist in their several spheres of action, and let us apply the pruning-knife, so as to reduce the national expenditure within some proper and reasonable amount. At all events, they are, of course, most familiar with the details of the subject, as it relates to their several branches of the administration. Among other items, there are several useless mints, which only operate to waste the public money. A friend, occupied in investigating this subject, has told me that the mint in New Orleans has already cost the country half a million of dollars, for getting ready to coin bullion not yet dug out of the mine!

[Mr. Berrien here spoke across something not heard by the reporter, in relation to the mint at Dahlonega, which excited much mirth in the neighboring part of the chamber.]

While every piece of coin made by these useless establishments could just as well be coined by the central mint, at Philadelphia.

And now, having gone through with all the details of this series of resolutions, which I thought it my duty to notice, allow me, in drawing to a conclusion of these remarks, to present some of the advantages which it appears to me should urge us to adopt the system of financial arrangement contemplated in the resolutions.

And first, the government will, in this way, secure to itself an adequate amount of revenue, without being obliged to depend on temporary and disreputable expedients, and thus preserve the public credit unsullied, which I deem a great advantage of the plan. Credit is of incalculable value, whether to a nation or an individual. England, proud England, a country with which we may one day again come in conflict—though it gives me pleasure to say, that I cannot perceive at present the least ‘speck of war’ in the political horizon—owes her greatness, her vastness of power, pervading the habitable globe, mainly to her strict and uniform attention to the preservation of the national credit.

Second. The next thing recommended is retrenchment in the national expenditure, and greater economy in the administration of the government. And do we not owe it to this bleeding country, to ourselves, and the unparalleled condition of the time, to exhibit to the world a fixed, resolute, and patriotic purpose, to reduce the public expenditure to an economical standard?

Third. But a much more important advantage than either of those I have yet adverted to, is to be found in the check which the adoption of this plan will impose on the efflux of the precious metals from this country to foreign countries. I shall not now go into the causes by which the country has been brought down from the elevated condition of prosperity it once enjoyed, to its present state of general embarrassment and distress. I think that those causes are as distinctly in my understanding and memory as any subjects were ever impressed there; but I have no desire to go into a discussion which can only revive the remembrance of unpleasant topics. My purpose, my fixed purpose on this occasion, has been to appeal to all gentlemen on all political sides of this chamber, to come out, and make a sacrifice of all lesser differences, in a patriotic, generous, and general effort, for the relief of their country. I shall not open these bleeding wounds which have, in too many instances, been inflicted by brothers’ hands—especially will I not do so at this time, and on this occasion. I shall look merely at facts as they are. I shall not ask what have been the remote causes of the depression and wretchedness of our once glorious and happy country. I will turn my view only on causes which are proximate, indisputable, and immediately before us.

One great if not sole cause is to be found in the withdrawal of coin from the country, to pay debts accrued or accruing abroad, for foreign imports, or debts contracted during former periods of prosperity, and still hanging over the country. How this withdrawal operates in practice, is not difficult to be understood. The banks of the country, when they are in a sound state, act upon this coin as the basis of their circulation and discounts; the withdrawal of it not only obliges the banks to withhold discounts and accommodations, but to draw in what is due from their debtors, at the precise time when they, sharing in the general stricture, are least able to meet the calls. Property is then thrown into the market, to raise means to comply with those demands, depression ensues, and, as is invariably the case when there is a downward tendency in its value, it falls below its real worth. But the foreign demand for specie, to pay commercial and other public debt, operates directly upon the precious metals themselves, which are gathered up by bankers, and brokers, and others, obtained from these depositories, and thence exported. Thus, this foreign demand has a double operation, one upon the banks, and through them upon the community, and the other upon the coin of the country. Gentlemen, in my humble opinion, utterly deceive themselves in attributing to the banking institutions all the distresses of the country. Doubtless, the erroneous and fraudulent administration of some of them, has occasioned much local and individual distress. But this would be temporary and limited, whilst the other cause—the continued efflux of specie from the country—if not arrested, would perpetuate the distress. Could you annihilate every bank in the union, and burn every bank note, and substitute in their place a circulation of nothing but the precious metals, as long as such a tariff continues as now exists, two years would not elapse till you would find the imperative necessity of some paper medium for conducting the domestic exchanges.

I announce only an historical truth, when I declare, that during, and ever since our colonial existence, necessity has given rise to the existence of a paper circulation of some form, in every colony on this continent; and there was a perpetual struggle between the crown and royal governors on one hand, and the colonial legislatures on the other, on this very subject of paper money. No; if you had to-morrow a circulation consisting of nothing but the precious metals, they would leave you as the morning dew leaves the fields, and you would be left under the necessity of devising a mode to fill the chasm produced by their absence.

I am ready to make one concession to the gentlemen on the other side. I admit that, if the circulation were in coin alone, the thermometer of our monetary fluctuations would not rise as high, or fall as low as when the circulation is of a mixed character, consisting partly of coin and partly of paper. But then the fluctuations themselves, within a more circumscribed range, would be quite as numerous, and they will and must exist so long as such a tariff remains as forces the precious metals abroad. I again repeat the assertion that, could you annihilate to-morrow every bank in the country, the very same description of embarrassment, if not in the same degree, would still be found which now pervades our country.

What, then, is to be done, to check this foreign drain? We have tried free trade. We have had the principles of free trade operating on more than half the total amount of our comforts, for the greater part of nine years past. That will not do, we see. Do let me recall to the recollection of the senate the period when the protective system was thought about to be permanently established. What was the great argument then urged against its establishment? It was this: that if duties were laid directly for protection, then we must resort to direct taxation to meet the wants of the government; everybody must make up their minds to a system of internal taxation. Look at the debate in the house of representatives of 1824, and you will find that was the point on which the great stress was laid. Well, it turned out as the friends of protection told you it would. We said that such would not be the effect. True, it would diminish importation, as it did; but the augmented amount of taxes would more than compensate for the reduced amount of goods. This we told you, and we were right.

How has free trade operated on other great interests? I well remember, that, ten years ago, one of the most gifted of the sons of South Carolina, (Mr. Hayne,) after drawing a most vivid and frightful picture of the condition of the south—of fields abandoned, houses dilapidated, overseers becoming masters, and masters overseers, general stagnation, and approaching ruin; a picture which, I confess, filled me with dismay—cried out to us, abolish your tariff, reduce your revenue to the standard of an economical government, and once more the fields of South Carolina will smile with beauty, her embarrassments will vanish, commerce will return to her harbors, labor to her plantations; augmented prices for her staples, and contentment, and prosperity, and universal happiness to her oppressed people. Well, we did reduce the tariff, and, after nine years of protection, we have had nine years of a descending tariff and of free trade. Nine years, (from 1824 to 1833,) we had the protective policy of a high tariff; and nine years, (from 1833 to 1842,) we have had the full operation of free trade on more than a moiety of the whole amount of our imports, and a descending tariff on the residue. And what is the condition of South Carolina at this day? Has she regained her lost prosperity? Has she recovered from the desolation and ruin so confidently imputed to the existence of a high tariff? I believe, if the gentleman from South Carolina could be interrogated here, and would respond in candor, unbiased by the delusions engendered by a favorite but delusive theory, he would tell us that she had not experienced the promised prosperity which was dwelt upon with so much eloquence by his fellow citizen. How is it in regard to the great staple of the south? How stand the prices of cotton during these nine years of the descending tariff, and the prevalence of free trade? How do these years compare with the nine years of protection and high tariff? Has the price of cotton increased, as we were told it would, by the talented South Carolinian? It has happened that during the nine tariff years the average price of cotton was from 1824 to 1833 higher than during the nine years of descending tariff and free trade; and at the instant I am speaking, I understand that cotton is selling at a lower rate than has been realized since the war with Great Britain. I know with what tenacity theorists adhere to a favorite theory, and search out for imaginary causes of results before their eyes, and deny the true. I am not going into the land of abstractions and of metaphysics. There are two great, leading, incontestable facts, which gentlemen must admit; first, that a high tariff did not put down the prices of staple commodities; and, second, that a low tariff and free trade have not been able to save them from depression. These are the facts; let causists, and theorists, and the advocates of a one-sided, paralytic free trade, in which we turn our sound side to the world, and our blighted, and paralysed, and dead side toward our own people, make of them what they can. At the very moment that England is pushing the resources of Asia, cultivating the fields of India, and even contemplating the subsidizing of Africa, for the supply of her factories with cotton, and when the importations from India have swelled from two hundred thousand bales to five hundred and eighty thousand bales, we are told that there are to be no restrictions on free trade.

Let me not be misunderstood, and let me entreat that I may not be misrepresented. I am not advocating the revival of a high protective tariff. I am for abiding by the principles of the compromise act; I am for doing what no southern man of a fair or candid mind has ever yet denied—giving to the country a revenue which may provide for the economical wants of the government, and at the same time give an incidental protection to our home industry. If there be here a single gentleman who will deny the fairness and propriety of this, I shall be glad to see and hear who he is.

This check on the flow of specie abroad, to pay either a commercial or a public debt, will operate by the imposition of duties to meet the wants of the government; will keep the precious metals at home to a much greater extent than is now possible. I hope that we shall learn to live within our own means, and not remain so dependent as we now are on the mere good pleasure and domestic policy of foreign governments. We go for revenue; for an amount of revenue adequate to an economical administration of the government. We can get such revenue nowhere else than from a tariff on importations. No man in his senses will propose a resort to direct or internal taxes. And this arrangement of the tariff, while it answers this end, will at the same time operate as a check on the efflux of the precious metals, and retain what is necessary for the purposes of exchange and circulation.

The fourth advantage attending the adoption of the system proposed will be, that the states will be left in the undisturbed possession of the land fund secured to them by the act of the last session, and which was intended to aid them in the embarrassments under which some of them are now laboring.

And the last is that to which I have already adverted, namely, that it will afford, indirectly, protection to the interests of American industry. And the most bitter and persevering opponent to the protective policy I ever met with, has never denied that it is both the right and the duty of government so to lay the taxes necessary to the public service, as to afford incidental protection to our own home industry.

But it is said that, by the adoption of one fixed, arbitrary maximum of ad valorem duty, we shall not derive that measure of protection which is expected; and I admit that there may be certain articles, the product of the mechanic arts—such, for example, as shoes, hats, and ready made clothing, and sugar, iron, and paper—some or all of which may not derive the protection which they need under the plan I propose. On that subject I can only say, what I said at the time of the passage of the compromise act, if some few articles shall not prove to be sufficiently protected beneath the established maximum rate, I should hope that, in the spirit of harmony and compromise, additional duties, above that rate, sufficient to afford reasonable protection to those few articles, by general consent, would be imposed. I am not, at present, prepared to say whether the rule I have suggested will afford adequate protection to these particular interests or not; I fear it may not. But if the subject shall be looked at in the spirit of patriotism, without party bias or local influences, it will be found that the few articles alluded to are so distributed, or are of such a nature as to furnish the grounds of a friendly adjustment. The interests of the sugar of the south may then be set against the iron of the centre and the productions of the mechanic arts, which, although prevailing everywhere, are most concentrated at the north. With respect to these, without reference to any general system of protection, they have been at all times protected. And who that has a heart, or the sympathies of a man, can say or feel that our hatters, tailors, and shoemakers, should not be protected against the rival productions of other countries? Who would say that the shoemaker, who makes the shoes of his wife—his own wife, according to the proverb, being the last woman in the parish that is supplied with hers—shall not be protected? that the tailor, who furnishes him with a new coat, or the hatter, that makes him a new hat, to go to church, to attend a wedding or christening, or to visit his neighbor, shall not be adequately protected?

Then there is the essential article of iron; that is a great central interest. Whether it will require a higher degree of protection than it will derive from such a system as I have sketched, I have not sufficient information to decide; but this I am prepared to say, that question will be with the representatives of those states which are chiefly interested; and, if their iron is not sufficiently protected, they must take the matter up and make out their case to be an exception to the general arrangement. When I speak of the representatives of these states, I mean their entire delegation, without regard to political denominations or distinctions. They must look into the matter, and if they take it up, and bring forward their propositions, and make out a clear case of exception to the general rule, I shall be an humble follower of their lead, but I will not myself take the lead in any such case. If these states want certain interests protected, they must send delegates here who are prepared to protect them. Such a state cannot reasonably expect senators from other states, having no direct, local, or particular concern in such interests, to force on her the protection of her own interests against her own will, as that will is officially expressed by her representatives in congress. I again say, I am ready to follow, but I will not lead.

With me, from the first moment I conceived the idea of creating, at home, a protection for the production of whatever is needed to supply the wants of man, up to this moment, it has always been purely a question of expediency. I never could comprehend the constitutional objection which to some gentlemen seems so extremely obvious. I could comprehend, to be sure, what these gentlemen mean to argue, but I never had the least belief in the constitutional objection which slept from 1788, (or, rather, which reverses the doctrine of 1780,) till it suddenly waked up in 1820. Then, for the first time since the existence of the constitution, was the doctrine advanced that we could not legitimately afford any protection to our own home industry against foreign and adverse industry. I say, that with me it always was a question of expediency only. If the nation does not want protection, I certainly never would vote to force it upon the nation; but viewing it as a question of expediency wholly, I have not hesitated heretofore, on the broad and comprehensive ground of expediency, to give my assent to all suitable measures proposed with a view to that end.

The senate will perceive that I have forborne to go into detail, especially in regard to the urgency of reform and retrenchment, with one or two exceptions. I have presented to it a system of policy embodied in these resolutions, containing those great principles in which I believe that the interest, prosperity, and happiness of the country are deeply involved—principles, the adoption of which alone can place the finances of the government upon a respectable footing, and free us from a condition of servile dependence on the legislation of foreign nations. I have persuaded myself that the system now brought forward will be met in a spirit of candor and of patriotism, and in the hope that whatever may have been the differences in the senate in days past, we have now reached a period in which we forget our prejudices, and agree to bury our transient animosities deep at the foot of the altar of our common country, and come together as an assemblage of friends, and brothers, and compatriots, met in common consultation to devise the best mode of relieving the public distress. It is in this spirit that I have brought forward my proposed plan; and I trust in God, invoking, as I humbly do, the aid and blessing of his providence, that the senators, on all sides of the chamber, will lay aside all party feelings, and more especially that habitual suspicion to which we are all more or less prone, (and from which I profess not to be exempted more than other men,) that impels us to reject, without examination, and to distrust whatever proceeds from a quarter we have been in the habit of opposing. Let us lay aside prejudice; let us look at the distresses of our country, and these alone. I trust that in this spirit we shall examine these resolutions, and decide upon them according to the dictates of our own consciences, and in a pure and patriotic regard to the welfare of our country.

VALEDICTORY ADDRESS TO THE SENATE.

IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES, MARCH 31, 1842.

[THE congressional career of Mr. Clay, having been one of the longest known in our annals, being about to close by his resignation of his seat in the senate, to take effect this day, he avails himself of the occasion to make a farewell address to that honorable body, which, as a specimen of his peculiar eloquence, will favorably compare with any of his previous efforts on which his claims rest as an orator and statesman, whether delivered at the capitol, before the legislators of the nation, or to assemblages of the people in various parts of the country.]

MR. CLAY rose, with deep and solemn emotion, and said, that, before proceeding to make the motion for which he had risen, he begged leave to submit, on the only occasion remaining to him, an observation or two on a different subject. It would be remembered that he had offered, on a former day, some resolutions proposing certain amendments in the constitution of the United States; they had undergone some discussion, and he had been desirous of replying to the able arguments which had been urged in opposition to them, and of obtaining an expression of the sense of the senate; but owing to the infirm state of his health, to the pressure of business in the senate, and especially to the absence, at this moment, of several of his friends, he had concluded that this was unnecessary. He regretted the want of an opportunity to present what he thought would be a satisfactory answer to those arguments. He should commit the subject, therefore, to the hands of the senate, to be disposed of as their judgment should dictate; concluding what he had to say in relation to them with the remark, that the convictions he had before entertained in regard to the several amendments, he still deliberately held, after all that he had heard upon the subjects; and that he firmly believed the true and permanent security of the just checks and balances of the constitution required their adoption.

And now, said Mr. C., allow me to announce, formally and officially, my retirement from the senate of the United States, and to present the last motion I shall ever make in this body. But, before I make that motion, I trust I shall be pardoned if I avail myself, with the permission and indulgence of the senate, of this last occasion of addressing to it a few more observations.

I entered the senate of the United States in December, 1806. I regarded that body then, and still consider it, as one which may compare, without disadvantage, with any legislative assembly, either in ancient or modern times, whether I look to its dignity, the extent and importance of its powers, the ability by which its individual members have been distinguished, or its organic constitution. If compared in any of these respects with the senates either of France or of England, that of the United States will sustain no derogation. With respect to the mode of constituting those bodies, I may observe, that, in the house of peers in England, with the exceptions of Ireland, and of Scotland—and in that of France with no exception whatever—the members hold their places in their individual rights under no delegated authority, not even from the order to which they belong, but derive them from the grant of the crown, transmitted by descent, or created in new patents of nobility; while here we have the proud and more noble title of representatives of sovereign states, of distinct and independent commonwealths.

If we look again at the powers exercised by the senates of France and England, and by the senate of the United States, we shall find that the aggregate of power is much greater here. In all, the respective bodies possess the legislative power. In the foreign senates, as in this, the judicial power is invested, although there it exists in a larger degree than here. But, on the other hand, that vast, undefined, and undefinable power involved in the right to coöperate with the executive in the formation and ratification of treaties, is enjoyed in all its magnitude and consequence by this body, while it is possessed by neither of theirs: besides which, there is another function of very great practical importance—that of sharing with the executive branch in distributing the immense patronage of this government. In both these latter respects we stand on grounds different from the house of peers either of England or France. And then, as to the dignity and decorum of its proceedings, and ordinarily, as to the ability of its members, I may, with great truth, declare that, during the whole long period of my knowledge of this senate, it can, without arrogance or presumption, stand an advantageous comparison with any deliberative body that ever existed in ancient or modern times.

Full of attraction, however, as a seat in the senate is, sufficient as it is to satisfy the aspirations of the most ambitious heart, I have long determined to relinquish it, and to seek that repose which can be enjoyed only in the shades of private life, in the circle of one’s own family, and in the tranquil enjoyments included in one enchanting word—Home.

It was my purpose to terminate my connection with this body in November, 1840, after the memorable and glorious political struggle which distinguished that year: but I learned, soon after, what indeed I had for some time anticipated from the result of my own reflections, that an extra session of congress would be called; and I felt desirous to coöperate with my political and personal friends in restoring, if it could be effected, the prosperity of the country, by the best measures which their united counsels might be able to devise; and I therefore attended the extra session. It was called, as all know, by the lamented Harrison; but his death, and the consequent accession of his successor, produced an entirely new aspect of public affairs. Had he lived, I have not one particle of doubt that every important measure to which the country had looked with so confident an expectation would have been consummated, by the coöperation of the executive with the legislative branch of the government. And here allow me to say, only, in regard to that so much reproached extra session of congress, that I believe if any of those, who, through the influence of party spirit, or the bias of political prejudice, have loudly censured the measures then adopted, would look at them in a spirit of candor and of justice, their conclusion, and that of the country generally, would be, that if there exist any just ground of complaint, it is to be found not in what was done, but in what was not done, but left unfinished.

Had president Harrison lived, and the measures devised at that session been fully carried out, it was my intention then to have resigned my seat. But the hope (I feared it might prove vain) that, at the regular session, the measures which we had left undone might even then be perfected, or the same object attained in an equivalent form, induced me to postpone the determination; and events which arose after the extra session, resulting from the failure of those measures which had been proposed at that session, and which seemed for the moment to subject our political friends to the semblance of defeat, confirmed me in the resolution to attend the present session also, and, whether in prosperity or adversity, to share the fortune of my friends. But I resolved, at the same time, to retire as soon as I could do so with propriety and decency.

From 1806, the period of my entrance upon this noble theatre, with short intervals, to the present time, I have been engaged in the public councils, at home or abroad. Of the services rendered during that long and arduous period of my life it does not become me to speak; history, if she deign to notice me, and posterity, if the recollection of my humble actions shall be transmitted to posterity, are the best, the truest, and the most impartial judges. When death has closed the scene, their sentence will be pronounced, and to that I commit myself. My public conduct is a fair subject for the criticism and judgment of my fellow-men; but the motives by which I have been prompted are known only to the great searcher of the human heart and to myself; and I trust I may be pardoned for repeating a declaration made some thirteen years ago, that, whatever errors, and doubtless there have been many, may be discovered in a review of my public service, I can with unshaken confidence appeal to that divine arbiter for the truth of the declaration, that I have been influenced by no impure purpose, no personal motive; have sought no personal aggrandizement; but that, in all my public acts, I have had a single eye directed, and a warm and devoted heart dedicated, to what, in my best judgment, I believed the true interests, the honor, the union, and the happiness of my country required.

During that long period, however, I have not escaped the fate of other public men, nor failed to incur censure and detraction of the bitterest, most unrelenting, and most malignant character; and though not always insensible to the pain it was meant to inflict, I have borne it in general with composure, and without disturbance here, [pointing to his breast,] waiting as I have done, in perfect and undoubting confidence, for the ultimate triumph of justice and of truth, and in the entire persuasion that time would settle all things as they should be, and that whatever wrong or injustice I might experience at the hands of man, He to whom all hearts are open and fully known, would, by the inscrutable dispensations of his providence, rectify all error, redress all wrong, and cause ample justice to be done.

But I have not meanwhile been unsustained. Everywhere throughout the extent of this great continent I have had cordial, warm-hearted, faithful, and devoted friends, who have known me, loved me, and appreciated my motives. To them, if language were capable of fully expressing my acknowledgments, I would now offer all the return I have the power to make for their genuine, disinterested, and persevering fidelity and devoted attachment, the feelings and sentiments of a heart overflowing with never ceasing gratitude. If, however, I fail in suitable language to express my gratitude to them for all the kindness they have shown me, what shall I say, what can I say at all commensurate with those feelings of gratitude with which I have been inspired by the state whose humble representative and servant I have been in this chamber? [Here Mr. C’s feelings overpowered him, and he proceeded with deep sensibility and difficult utterance.]

I emigrated from Virginia to the state of Kentucky now nearly forty-five years ago; I went as an orphan boy who had not yet attained the age of majority; who had never recognised a father’s smile, nor felt his warm caresses; poor, pennyless, without the favor of the great, with an imperfect and neglected education, hardly sufficient for the ordinary business and common pursuits of life; but scarce had I set my foot upon her generous soil when I was embraced with parental fondness, caressed as though I had been a favorite child, and patronised with liberal and unbounded munificence. From that period the highest honors of the state have been freely bestowed upon me; and when, in the darkest hour of calumny and detraction, I seemed to be assailed by all the rest of the world, she interposed her broad and impenetrable shield, repelled the poisoned shafts that were aimed for my destruction, and vindicated my good name from every malignant and unfounded aspersion. I return with indescribable pleasure to linger a while longer, and mingle with the warm-hearted and whole-souled people of that state; and, when the last scene shall for ever close upon me, I hope that my earthly remains will be laid under her green sod with those of her gallant and patriotic sons.

But the ingenuity of my assailants is never exhausted. It seems I have subjected myself to a new epithet; which I do not know whether to take in honor or derogation: I am held up to the country as a ‘dictator.’ A dictator! The idea of a dictatorship is drawn from Roman institutions; and at the time the office was created, the person who wielded the tremendous weight of authority it conferred, concentrated in his own person an absolute power over the lives and property of all his fellow-citizens; he could levy armies; he could build and man navies; he could raise any amount of revenue he might choose to demand; and life and death rested on his fiat. If I were a dictator, as I am said to be, where is the power with which I am clothed? Have I any army? any navy? any revenue? any patronage? in a word, any power whatever? If I had been a dictator, I think that even those who have the most freely applied to me the appellation must be compelled to make two admissions; first, that my dictatorship has been distinguished by no cruel executions, stained by no blood, sullied by no act of dishonor; and I think they must also own, (though I do not exactly know what date my commission of dictator bears; I suppose, however, it must have commenced with the extra session;) that if I did usurp the power of a dictator, I at least voluntarily surrendered it within a shorter period than was allotted for the duration of the dictatorship of the Roman commonwealth.

If to have sought at the extra session and at the present, by the coöperation of my friends, to carry out the great measures intended by the popular majority of 1840, and to have earnestly wished that they should all have been adopted and executed; if to have ardently desired to see a disordered currency regulated and restored, and irregular exchanges equalized and adjusted; if to have labored to replenish the empty coffers of the treasury by suitable duties; if to have endeavored to extend relief to the unfortunate bankrupts of the country, who had been ruined in a great measure by the erroneous policy, as we believed, of this government; to limit, circumscribe, and reduce executive authority; to retrench unnecessary expenditure and abolish useless offices and institutions; and the public honor to preserve untarnished by supplying a revenue adequate to meet the national engagements and incidental protection to the national industry; if to have entertained an anxious solicitude to redeem every pledge, and execute every promise fairly made by my political friends, with a view to the acquisition of power from the hands of an honest and confiding people; if these constitute a man a DICTATOR, why, then, I must be content to bear, although I still ought only to share with my friends, the odium or the honor of the epithet, as it may be considered on the one hand or the other.

That my nature is warm, my temper ardent, my disposition, especially in relation to the public service, enthusiastic, I am ready to own; and those who suppose that I have been assuming the dictatorship, have only mistaken for arrogance or assumption that ardor and devotion which are natural to my constitution, and which I may have displayed with too little regard to cold, calculating, and cautious prudence, in sustaining and zealously supporting important national measures of policy which I have presented and espoused.

In the course of a long and arduous public service, especially during the last eleven years in which I have held a seat in the senate, from the same ardor and enthusiasm of character, I have no doubt, in the heat of debate, and in an honest endeavor to maintain my opinions against adverse opinions alike honestly entertained, as to the best course to be adopted for the public welfare, I may have often inadvertently and unintentionally, in moments of excited debate, made use of language that has been offensive, and susceptible of injurious interpretation towards my brother senators. If there be any here who retain wounded feelings of injury or dissatisfaction produced on such occasions, I beg to assure them that I now offer the most ample apology for any departure on my part from the established rules of parliamentary decorum and courtesy. On the other hand, I assure senators, one and all, without exception and without reserve, that I retire from this chamber without carrying with me a single feeling of resentment or dissatisfaction to the senate or any one of its members.

I go from this place under the hope that we shall, mutually, consign to perpetual oblivion whatever personal collisions may at any time unfortunately have occurred between us; and that our recollections shall dwell in future only on those conflicts of mind with mind, those intellectual struggles, those noble exhibitions of the powers of logic, argument, and eloquence, honorable to the senate and to the nation, in which each has sought and contended for what he deemed the best mode of accomplishing one common object, the interest and the most happiness of our beloved country. To these thrilling and delightful scenes it will be my pleasure and my pride to look back in my retirement with unmeasured satisfaction.

And now, Mr. President, allow me to make the motion which it was my object to submit when I rose to address you. I present the credentials of my friend and successor. If any void has been created by my withdrawal from the senate, it will be amply filled by him, whose urbanity, whose gallant and gentlemanly bearing, whose steady adherence to principle, and whose rare and accomplished powers in debate, are known to the senate and to the country. I move that his credentials be received, and that the oath of office be now administered to him.

In retiring, as I am about to do, for ever, from the senate, suffer me to express my heartfelt wishes that all the great and patriotic objects of the wise framers of our constitution may be fulfilled; that the high destiny designed for it may be fully answered; and that its deliberations, now and hereafter, may eventuate in securing the prosperity of our beloved country, in maintaining its rights and honor abroad, and upholding its interests at home. I retire, I know, at a period of infinite distress and embarrassment. I wish I could take my leave of you under more favorable auspices; but, without meaning at this time to say whether on any or on whom reproaches for the sad condition of the country should fall, I appeal to the senate and to the world to bear testimony to my earnest and continued exertions to avert it, and to the truth that no blame can justly attach to me.

May the most precious blessings of heaven rest upon the whole senate and each member of it, and may the labors of every one redound to the benefit of the nation and the advancement of his own fame and renown. And when you shall retire to the bosom of your constituents, may you receive that most cheering and gratifying of all human rewards—their cordial greeting of ‘well done, good and faithful servant.’

And now, Mr. President, and senators, I bid you all a long, a lasting, and a friendly farewell.

Mr. Crittenden was then duly qualified, and took his seat; when

Mr. Preston rose and said: what had just taken place was an epoch in their legislative history, and from the feeling which was evinced, he plainly saw that there was little disposition to attend to business. He would therefore move that the senate adjourn; which motion was unanimously agreed to.

ON HIS RETIREMENT TO PRIVATE LIFE.

AT LEXINGTON, KENTUCKY, JUNE 9, 1842.

[AFTER his resignation as senator, and retirement to private life, at Ashland, near Lexington, Kentucky, his fellow-citizens of that place and its vicinity, gave a festival in honor of him, on the above-named day, when Mr. Clay addressed them in the following words, in which he takes an interesting retrospect of his long career as a public man, and enters into a sketch of the most important political events which had affected the condition of the country, concluding with an exhortation to his political friends to continue their efforts to promote the best interests of their country.

Judge Robertson, who presided, offered the following sentiment, which he prefaced with appropriate remarks

HENRY CLAY—farmer of Ashland, patriot and philanthropist—the AMERICAN statesman, and unrivalled orator of the age—illustrious abroad, beloved at home: in a long career of eminent public service, often, like Aristides, he breasted the raging storm of passion and delusion, and by offering himself a sacrifice, saved the republic; and now, like Cincinnatus and Washington, having voluntarily retired to the tranquil walks of private life, the grateful hearts of his countrymen will do him ample justice; but come what may, Kentucky will stand by him, and still continue to cherish and defend, as her own, the fame of a son who has emblazoned her escutcheon with immortal renown.

After the evidences of feeling which this sentiment elicited had subsided, Mr. Clay rose and spoke as follows.]

MR. PRESIDENT, LADIES, AND GENTLEMEN:

It was given to our countryman, Franklin, to bring down the lightning from heaven. To enable me to be heard by this immense multitude, I should have to invoke to my aid, and to throw into my voice, its loudest thunders. As I cannot do that, I hope I shall be excused for such a use of my lungs as is practicable, and not inconsistent with the preservation of my health. And I feel that it is our first duty to express our obligations to a kind and bountiful Providence, for the copious and genial showers with which he has just blessed our land—a refreshment of which it stood much in need. For one, I offer to him my humble and dutiful thanks. The inconvenience to us, on this festive occasion, is very slight, while the sum of good which those timely rains will produce, is very great and encouraging.

Fellow-citizens, I find myself now in a situation somewhat like one in which I was placed a few years ago, when travelling through the state of Indiana, from which my friend (Mr. Rariden) near me comes. I stopped at a village containing some four or five hundred inhabitants, and I had scarcely alighted before I found myself surrounded in the bar-room by every adult male resident of the place. After a while, I observed a group consulting together in one corner of the room, and shortly after, I was diffidently approached by one of them, a tall, lank, lean, but sedate and sober looking person, with a long face and high cheek bones, who, addressing me, said he was commissioned by his neighbors to request that I would say a few words to them. Why, my good friend, said I, I should be very happy to do any thing gratifying to yourself and your neighbors, but I am very much fatigued, and hungry, and thirsty, and I do not think the occasion is exactly suitable for a speech, and I wish you would excuse me to your friends. Well, says he, Mr. Clay, I confess I thought so myself, especially as we have no wine to offer you to drink!

Now, if the worthy citizen of Indiana was right in supposing that a glass of wine was a necessary preliminary, and a precedent condition to the delivery of a speech, you have no just right to expect one from me at this time; for, during the sumptuous repast from which we have just risen, you offered me nothing to drink but cold water—excellent water, it is true, from the classic fountain of our lamented friend Mr. Maxwell, which has so often regaled us on celebrations of our great anniversary. [Great laughter.]

I protest against any inference of my being inimical to the temperance cause. On the contrary, I think it an admirable cause, that has done great good, and will continue to do good as long as legal coercion is not employed, and it rests exclusively upon persuasion, and its own intrinsic merits.

I have a great and growing repugnance to speaking in the open air to a large assemblage. But whilst the faculty of speech remains to me, I can never feel that repugnance, never feel other than grateful sensations, in making my acknowledgments under such circumstances as those which have brought us together. Not that I am so presumptuous as to believe that I have been the occasion solely of collecting this vast multitude. Among the inducements, I cannot help thinking that the fat white virgin Durham heifer of my friend, Mr. Berryman, that cost six hundred dollars, which has been just served up, and the other good things which have been so liberally spread before us, exerted some influence in swelling this unprecedently large meeting. [Great laughter.]

I cannot but feel, Mr. President, in offering my respectful acknowledgment for the honor done me, in the eloquent address which you have just delivered, and in the sentiment with which you concluded it, that your warm partiality, and the fervent friendship which has so long existed between us, and the kindness of my neighbors and friends around me, have prompted an exaggerated description, in too glowing colors, of my public services and my poor abilities.

I seize the opportunity to present my heartfelt thanks to the whole people of Kentucky, for all the high honors and distinguished favors which I have received, during a long residence with them, at their hands; for the liberal patronage which I received from them in my professional pursuit; for the eminent places in which they have put me, or enabled me to reach; for the generous and unbounded confidence which they have bestowed upon me, at all times; for the gallant and unswerving fidelity and attachment with which they stood by me, throughout all the trials and vicissitudes of an eventful and arduous life; and above all, for the scornful indignation with which they repelled an infamous calumny directed against my name and fame, at a momentous period of my public career. In recalling to our memory but the circumstances of that period, one cannot but be filled with astonishment at the indefatigability with which the calumny was propagated, and the zealous partisan use to which it was applied, not only without evidence, but in the face of a full and complete refutation. Under whatever deception, delusion, or ignorance, it was received elsewhere, with you, my friends and neighbors, and with the good people of Kentucky, it received no countenance; but in proportion to the venom and the malevolence of its circulation was the vigor and magnanimity with which I was generally supported. Upheld with the consciousness of the injustice of the charge, I should have borne myself with becoming fortitude, if I had been abandoned by you as I was by so large a portion of my countrymen. But to have been sustained and vindicated as I was, by the people of my own state, by you who know me best, and whom I had so many reasons to love and esteem, greatly cheered and encouraged me, in my onward progress. Eternal thanks and gratitude are due from me.

I thank you, friends and fellow-citizens, for your distinguished and enthusiastic reception of me this day; and for the excellence and abundance of the barbecue that has been provided for our entertainment. And I thank, from the bottom of my heart, my fair country-women, for honoring, and gracing, and adding brilliancy to this occasion, by their numerous attendance. If the delicacy and refinement of their sex will not allow them to mix in the rougher scenes of human life, we may be sure that whenever, by their presence, their smiles and approbation are bestowed, it is no ordinary occurrence. That presence is always an absolute guarantee of order, decorum, and respect. I take the greatest pleasure in bearing testimony to their value and their virtue. I have ever found in them true and steadfast friends, generously sympathizing in distress, and, by their courageous fortitude in bearing it themselves, encouraging us to imitate their example. And we all know and remember how, as in 1840, they can powerfully aid a great and good cause, without any departure from the propriety or dignity of their sex.

In looking back upon my origin and progress through life, I have great reason to be thankful. My father died in 1781, leaving me an infant of too tender years to retain any recollection of his smiles or endearments. My surviving parent removed to this state in 1792, leaving me, a boy of fifteen years of age, in the office of the high court of chancery, in the city of Richmond, without guardian, without pecuniary means of support, to steer my course as I might or could. A neglected education was improved by my own irregular exertions, without the benefit of systematic instruction. I studied law principally in the office of a lamented friend, the late governor Brooke, then attorney general of Virginia, and also under the auspices of the venerable and lamented chancellor Wythe, for whom I had acted as an amanuensis. I obtained a license to practice the profession from the judges of the court of appeals of Virginia, and established myself in Lexington, in 1797, without patrons, without the favor or countenance of the great or opulent, without the means of paying my weekly board, and in the midst of a bar uncommonly distinguished by eminent members. I remember how comfortable I thought I should be, if I could make one hundred pounds, Virginia money, per year, and with what delight I received the first fifteen shillings fee. My hopes were more than realized. I immediately rushed into a successful and lucrative practice.

In 1803 or 4, when I was absent from the county of Fayette, at the Olympian springs, without my knowledge or previous consent, I was brought forward as a candidate, and elected to the general assembly of this state. I served in that body several years, and was then transferred to the senate, and afterwards to the house of representatives of the United States. I will not dwell on the subsequent events of my political life, or enumerate the offices which I have filled. During my public career, I have had bitter, implacable, reckless enemies. But if I have been the object of misrepresentation and unmerited calumny, no man has been beloved or honored by more devoted, faithful, and enthusiastic friends. I have no reproaches, none, to make towards my country, which has distinguished and elevated me far beyond what I had any right to expect. I forgive my enemies, and hope they may live to obtain the forgiveness of their own hearts.

It would neither be fitting nor is it my purpose to pass judgment on all the acts of my public life; but I hope I shall be excused for one or two observations, which the occasion appears to me to authorize.

I never but once changed my opinion on any great measure of national policy, or on any great principle of construction of the national constitution. In early life, on deliberate consideration, I adopted the principles of interpreting the federal constitution, which had been so ably developed and enforced by Mr. Madison, in his memorable report to the Virginia legislature, and to them, as I understood them, I have constantly adhered. Upon the question coming up in the senate of the United States to recharter the first bank of the United States, thirty years ago, I opposed the recharter, upon convictions which I honestly entertained. The experience of the war, which shortly followed, the condition into which the currency of the country was thrown, without a bank, and, I may now add, later and more disastrous experience, convinced me I was wrong. I publicly stated to my constituents, in a speech in Lexington, (that which I made in the house of representatives of the United States not having been reported,) my reasons for that change, and they are preserved in the archives of the country. I appeal to that record, and I am willing to be judged now and hereafter by their validity.

I do not advert to the fact of this solitary instance of change of opinion, as implying any personal merit, but because it is a fact. I will, however, say that I think it very perilous to the utility of any public man, to make frequent changes of opinion, or any change, but upon grounds so sufficient and palpable, that the public can clearly see and approve them. If we could look through a window into the human breast, and there discover the causes which led to changes of opinion, they might be made without hazard. But as it is impossible to penetrate the human heart, and distinguish between the sinister and honest motives which prompt it, any public man that changes his opinion, once deliberately formed and promulgated, under other circumstances than those which I have stated, draws around him distrust, impairs the public confidence, and lessens his capacity to serve his country.

I will take this occasion now to say, that I am, and have been long satisfied, that it would have been wiser and more politic in me, to have declined accepting the office of secretary of state in 1825. Not that my motives were not as pure and as patriotic as ever carried any man into public office. Not that the calumny which was applied to the fact was not as gross and as unfounded as any that was ever propagated. [Here some body cried out that Mr. Carter Beverley, who had been made the organ of announcing it, had recently borne testimony to its being unfounded. Mr. Clay said it was true that he had voluntarily borne such testimony. But, with great earnestness and emphasis, Mr. Clay said, I want no testimony—here, here, here, here, repeatedly touching his heart, amidst tremendous cheers, here is the best of all witnesses of my innocence.] Not that valued friends, and highly esteemed opponents did not unite in urging my acceptance of the office. Not that the administration of Mr. Adams will not, I sincerely believe, advantageously compare with any of his predecessors, in economy, purity, prudence, and wisdom. Not that Mr. Adams was himself wanting in any of those high qualifications and upright and patriotic intentions which were suited to the office. Of that extraordinary man, of rare and varied attainments, whatever diversity of opinion may exist as to his recent course in the house of representatives, (and candor obliges me to say that there are some things in it which I deeply regret,) it is with no less truth than pleasure, I declare that, during the whole period of his administration, annoyed, assailed, and assaulted as it was, no man could have shown a more devoted attachment to the union, and all its great interests, a more ardent desire faithfully to discharge his whole duty, or brought to his aid more useful experience and knowledge, than he did. I never transacted business with any man, in my life, with more ease, satisfaction, and advantage, than I did with that most able and indefatigable gentleman, as president of the United States. And I will add, that more harmony never prevailed in any cabinet than in his.

But my error in accepting the office, arose out of my underrating the power of detraction and the force of ignorance, and abiding with too sure a confidence in the conscious integrity and uprightness of my own motives. Of that ignorance, I had a remarkable and laughable example on an occasion which I will relate. I was travelling, in 1828, through I believe it was Spottsylvania county, in Virginia, on my return to Washington, in company with some young friends. We halted at night at a tavern, kept by an aged gentleman, who, I quickly perceived, from the disorder and confusion which reigned, had not the happiness to have a wife. After a hurried and bad supper, the old gentleman sat down by me, and without hearing my name, but understanding that I was from Kentucky, remarked that he had four sons in that state, and that he was very sorry they were divided in politics, two being for Adams and two for Jackson; he wished they were all for Jackson. Why? I asked him. Because, he said, that fellow Clay, and Adams, had cheated Jackson out of the presidency. Have you ever seen any evidence, my old friend, said I, of that? No, he replied, none, and he wanted to see none. But, I observed, looking him directly and steadily in the face, suppose Mr. Clay were to come here and assure you, upon his honor, that it was all a vile calumny, and not a word of truth in it, would you believe him? No, replied the old gentleman, promptly and emphatically. I said to him, in conclusion, will you be good enough to show me to bed, and bade him good night. The next morning, having in the interval learned my name, he came to me full of apologies; but I at once put him at his ease by assuring him that I did not feel in the slightest degree hurt or offended with him.

Mr. President, I have been accused of ambition, often accused of ambition. I believe, however, that my accusers will be generally found to be political opponents, or the friends of aspirants in whose way I was supposed to stand; and it was thought, therefore, necessary to shove me aside. I defy my enemies to point out any act or instance of my life, in which I have sought the attainment of office by dishonorable or unworthy means. Did I display inordinate ambition when, under the administration of Mr. Madison, I declined a foreign mission of the first grade, and an executive department, both of which he successively kindly tendered to me? when, under that of his successor, Mr. Monroe, I was first importuned, (as no one knows better than that sterling old patriot, Jonathan Roberts, now threatened, as the papers tell us, with expulsion from an office which was never filled with more honesty and uprightness, because he declines to be a servile instrument,) to accept a secretaryship, and was afterwards offered a carte blanche of all the foreign missions? At the epoch of the election of 1825, I believe no one doubted at Washington that, if I had felt it my duty to vote for general Jackson, he would have invited me to take charge of a department. And such undoubtedly Mr. Crawford would have done if he had been elected. When the Harrisburg convention assembled, the general expectation was that the nomination would be given to me. It was given to the lamented Harrison. Did I exhibit extraordinary ambition when, cheerfully acquiescing, I threw myself into the canvass and made every exertion in my power to insure it success? Was it evidence of unchastened ambition in me to resign, as I recently did, my seat in the senate—to resign the dictatorship, with which my enemies had so kindly invested me, and come home to the quiet walks of private life?

But I am ambitious because some of my countrymen have seen fit to associate my name with the succession for the presidential office. Do those who prefer the charge know what I have done, or not done, in connection with that object? Have they given themselves the trouble to inquire at all into any agency of mine in respect to it? I believe not. It is a subject which I approach with all the delicacy which belongs to it, and with a due regard to the dignity of the exalted station; but on which I shall, at the same time, speak to you, my friends and neighbors, without reserve, and with the utmost candor.

I have prompted none of those movements among the people, of which we have seen accounts. As far as I am concerned, they are altogether spontaneous, and not only without concert with me, but most generally without any sort of previous knowledge on my part. That I am thankful and grateful, profoundly grateful, for these manifestations of confidence and attachment, I will not conceal or deny. But I have been, and mean to remain a passive, if not an indifferent spectator. I have reached a time of life, and seen enough of high official stations, to enable me justly to appreciate their value, their cares, their responsibilities, their ceaseless duties. That estimate of their worth, in a personal point of view, would restrain me from seeking to fill any one, the highest of them, in a scramble of doubtful issue, with political opponents, much less with political friends. That I should feel greatly honored by a call from a majority of the people of this country, to the highest office within their gift, I shall not deny; nor, if my health were preserved, might I feel at liberty to decline a summons so authoritative and commanding. But I declare most solemnly, that I have not, up to this moment, determined whether I will consent to the use of my name or not as a candidate for the chief magistracy. That is a grave question, which should be decided by all attainable lights, which, I think, is not necessary yet to be decided, and a decision of which I reserve to myself, as far as I can reserve it, until the period arrives when it ought to be solved. That period has not, as I think, yet arrived. When it does, an impartial survey of the whole ground should be taken, the state of public opinion properly considered, and one’s personal condition, physical and intellectual, duly examined and weighed. In thus announcing a course of conduct for myself, it is hardly necessary to remark, that it is no part of my purpose to condemn, or express any opinion whatever upon those popular movements which have been made, or may be contemplated, in respect to the next election of a president of the United States.

If to have served my country during a long series of years with fervent zeal and unshaken fidelity, in seasons of peace and war, at home and abroad, in the legislative halls and in an executive department; if to have labored most sedulously to avert the embarrassment and distress which now overspread this union, and when they came, to have exerted myself anxiously, at the extra session, and at this, to devise healing remedies; if to have desired to introduce economy and reform in the general administration, curtail enormous executive power, and amply provide, at the same time, for the wants of the government and the wants of the people, by a tariff which would give it revenue and them protection; if to have earnestly sought to establish the bright but too rare example of a party in power faithful to its promises and pledges made when out of power; if these services, exertions, and endeavors, justify the accusation of ambition, I must plead guilty to the charge.

I have wished the good opinion of the world; but I defy the most malignant of my enemies to show that I have attempted to gain it by any low or grovelling arts, by any mean or unworthy sacrifices, by the violation of any of the obligations of honor, or by a breach of any of the duties which I owed to my country.

I turn, sir, from these personal allusions and reminiscences, to the vastly more important subject of the present actual condition of this country. If they could ever be justifiable or excusable, it would be on such an occasion as this, when I am addressing those to whom I am bound by so many intimate and friendly ties.

In speaking of the present state of the country, it will be necessary for me to touch with freedom and independence upon the past as well as the present, and upon the conduct, spirit, and principles of parties. In doing this, I assure my democratic brethren and fellow citizens, of whom I am told there are many here present, (and I tender them my cordial thanks for the honor done me by their attendance here this day, with as much sincerity and gratitude as if they agreed with me in political sentiment,) that nothing is further from my intention than to say one single word that ought to wound their feelings or give offence to them. But surely, if there ever was a period in the progress of any people, when all were called upon, with calmness and candor, to consider thoroughly the present posture of public and private affairs, and deliberately to inquire into the causes and remedies of this unpropitious state of things, we have arrived at that period in the United States. And if ever a people stood bound by the highest duties to themselves and to their posterity, to sacrifice upon the altar of their country, cherished prejudices and party predilections and antipathies, we are now called upon to make that sacrifice if necessary.

What is our actual condition? It is one of unexampled distress and embarrassment, as universal as it is intense, pervading the whole community and sparing none; property of all kinds, and every where, fallen and falling in value; agricultural produce of every description at the most reduced prices; money unsound and at the same time scarce, and becoming more scarce by preparations, of doubtful and uncertain issue, to increase its soundness; all the departments of business inactive and stagnant; exchanges extravagantly high, and constantly fluctuating; credit, public and private, at the lowest ebb, and confidence lost; and a feeling of general discouragement and depression. And what darkens the gloom which hangs over the country, no one can discern any termination of this sad state of things, nor see in the future any glimpses of light or hope.

Is not this a faithful, although appalling picture of the United States in 1842? I appeal to all present, whigs and democrats, ladies and gentlemen, to say if it be at all too high colored.

Now let us see what was our real condition only the short time of ten years ago. I had occasion, in February, 1832, in the senate of the United States, when I was defending the American system against the late colonel Hayne, of South Carolina, to describe it; and I refer to this description as evidence of what I believed to be the state of the country at that time. That it conformed to the truth of the case, I appeal with confidence to those now present. On that occasion, among other things, I said:

‘I have now to perform the more pleasing task of exhibiting an imperfect sketch of the existing state of the unparalleled prosperity of the country. On a general survey, we behold cultivation extended, the arts flourishing, the face of the country improved, our people fully and profitably employed, and the public countenance exhibiting tranquillity, contentment, and happiness. And, if we descend into particulars, we have the agreeable contemplation of a people out of debt, land rising slowly in value, but in a secure and salutary degree; a ready, though extravagant market for all the surplus productions of our industry; innumerable flocks and herds browsing and gamboling on ten thousand hills and plains, covered with rich and verdant grasses; our cities expanded, and whole villages springing up, as it were, by enchantment; our exports and our imports increased and increasing; our tonnage, foreign and coastwise, swelling and fully occupied; the rivers of our interior animated by the perpetual thunder and lightning of countless steamboats; the currency sound and abundant; the public debt of two wars nearly redeemed; and, to crown all, the public treasury overflowing, embarrassing congress, not to find subjects of taxation, but to select the objects which shall be liberated from the impost. If the term of seven years were to be selected of the greatest prosperity which this people have enjoyed since the establishment of their present constitution, it would be exactly that period of seven years which immediately followed the passage of the tariff of 1824.’

And that period embraced the whole term of the administration of Mr. John Quincy Adams, which has been so unjustly abused!

The contrast in the state of the country at the two periods of 1832 and 1842, is most remarkable and startling. What has precipitated us from that great height of enviable prosperity down to the lowest depths of pecuniary embarrassment? What has occasioned the wonderful change? No foreign foe has invaded and desolated the country. We have had neither famine nor earthquakes. That there exists a cause there can be no doubt; and I think it equally clear that the cause, whatever it may be, must be a general one; for nothing but a general cause could have produced such wide spread ruin; and every where we behold the same or similar effects, every interest affected, every section of the union suffering, all descriptions of produce and property depressed in value. And whilst I endeavor to find out that cause, and to trace to their true source the disastrous effects which we witness and feel, and lament, I entreat the democratic portion of my audience, especially, to listen with patience and candor, and dismissing for a moment party biases and prejudices, to decide with impartiality and in a spirit of genuine patriotism.

It has been said by those in high authority, that the people are to blame and not the government, and that the distresses of the country have proceeded from speculation and over-trading. The people have been even reproached for expecting too much from government, and not relying sufficiently upon their own exertions. And they have been reminded that the highest duty of the government is to take care of itself, leaving the people to shift for themselves as well as they can. Accordingly we have seen the government retreating from the storm which it will be seen, in the sequel, itself created, and taking shelter under the sub-treasury.

That there has been some speculation and over-trading, may be true; but all have not speculated and over-traded; whilst the distress reaches, if not in the same degree, the cautious and the prudent, as well as the enterprising and venturous. The error of the argument consists in mistaking the effect for the cause. What produced the over-trading? What was the cause of speculation? How were the people tempted to abandon the industrious and secure pursuits of life, and embark in doubtful and perilous, but seducing enterprises? That is the important question.

Now, fellow citizens, I take upon myself to show that the people have been far less to blame than the general government, and that whatever of error they committed, was the natural and inevitable consequence of the unwise policy of their rulers. To the action of government is mainly to be ascribed the disorders, embarrassment, and distress, which all have now so much reason to deplore. And, to be yet more specific, I think they are to be fairly attributed to the action of the executive branch of the federal government.

Three facts or events, all happening about the same time, if their immediate effects are duly considered, will afford a clear and satisfactory solution of all the pecuniary evils which now unhappily afflict this country.

The first was the veto of the recharter of the bank of the United States. The second was the removal of the deposits of the United States from that bank to local banks. And the third was the refusal of the president of the United States, by an arbitrary stretch of power, to sanction the passage of the land bill. These events all occurred, in quick succession, in 1832–3, and each of them deserves particular consideration.

First. When the bank of the United States had fully recovered from the errors of its early administration, and at the period when it was proposed to recharter it, it furnished the best currency that ever existed, possessing not merely unbounded confidence in the United States, but throughout the whole commercial world. No institution was ever more popular, and the utility of a bank of the United States was acknowledged by president Jackson in his veto message, in which he expressly stated, that he could have suggested to congress the plan of an unexceptionable charter, if application had been made to him. And I state as a fact, what many, I am sure, will here remember and sustain, that in the canvass then going on for the presidency, many of his friends in this state gave assurances that, in the event of his reëlection, a bank of the United States would be established.

It was held out to the people that a better currency should be supplied, and a more safe and faithful execution of the fiscal duties towards the government would be performed by the local banks than by the bank of the United States.

What was the immediate effect of the overthrow of that institution? The establishment of innumerable local banks, which sprung up every where, with a rapidity to which we cannot look back without amazement. A respectable document which I now hold in my hand, I believe correctly states, that ‘in 1830 the aggregate banking capital of the union was one hundred and forty-five million, one hundred and ninety thousand, two hundred and sixty eight dollars. Within two years after the removal of the deposits, the banking capital has swollen to three hundred and thirty-one million, two hundred and fifty thousand, three hundred and thirty-seven dollars, and in 1837 it reached four hundred and forty million, one hundred and ninety-five thousand, seven hundred and ten dollars. Whilst the United States bank was in existence, the local banks, not aspiring to the regulation of the currency, were chartered with small capitals, as occasion and business required. After 1833 they were chartered without necessity, and multiplied beyond example. In December, 1837, there were no less than seven hundred and nine state banks. Nearly four hundred banks sprung up upon the ruins of the United States bank, and two hundred and fifty million dollars of capital was incorporated, to supply the uses formerly discharged by the thirty-five million dollars capital of the bank of the United States. The impulse given to extravagance and speculation by this enormous increase of banking capital, was quickened by the circulars of the treasury department to these pet state banks that were made the custodiers of the national revenue.’

A vast proportion of these new banks, more, I believe, than four fifths, were chartered by legislatures in which the democratic party had the undisputed ascendancy. I well remember that, in this state, the presses of that party made a grave charge against me, of being inimical to the establishment here of state banks; and I was opposed to their establishment, until all prospect vanished of getting a bank of the United States.

The effect upon the country of this sudden increase, to such an immense amount, of the banking capital of the country, could not fail to be very great, if not disastrous. It threw out, in the utmost profusion, bank notes, post notes, checks, drafts, bills, and so forth. The currency thus put forth, the people had been assured, was better than that supplied by the bank of the United States; and, after the removal of the deposits, the local banks were urged and stimulated, by the secretary of the treasury, freely to discount and accommodate, upon the basis of those deposits. Flooded as the country was, by these means and in this way, with all species of bank money and facilities, is it surprising that they should have rushed into speculation, and freely adventured in the most desperate enterprises? It would have been better to have avoided them; it would have been better that the people should have been wiser and more prudent than government; but who is most to blame, they who yielded to temptation so thrown before them—they who yielded confidence to their rulers—they who could not see when this inordinate issue of money was to cease, or to become vitiated—or government, that tempted, seduced, and betrayed them?

And now, fellow-citizens, do let us, in calmness and candor, revert for a moment to some of the means which were employed to break down the bank of the United States, and to inflict upon the country all the sad consequences which ensued. I shall not stop to expose the motives of the assault upon that institution, and to show that it was because it refused to make itself basely and servilely instrumental to the promotion of political views and objects.

The bank was denounced as a monster, aiming, as was declared, to rob the people of their liberties, and to subvert the government of the country. The bank to subvert the government! Why, how could the bank continue to exist, after the overthrow of that government to which it was indebted for its existence, and in virtue of whose authority it could alone successfully operate? Convulsions, revolutions, civil wars, are not the social conditions most favorable to bank prosperity; but they flourish most when order, law, regularity, punctuality, and successful business prevail.

Rob the people of their liberties! And pray what would it do with them after the robbery was perpetrated? It could not put them in its vaults, or make interest or profit upon them—the leading, if not sole object of a bank. And how could it destroy the liberties of the people, without, at the same time, destroying the liberties of all persons interested or concerned in the bank? What is a bank? It is a corporation, the aggregate of whose capital is contributed by individual shareholders, and employed in pecuniary operations, under the management of official agents, called president, directors, cashier, tellers, and clerks. Now all these persons are usually citizens of the United States, just as much interested in the preservation of the liberties of the country as any other citizens. What earthly motive could prompt them to seek the destruction of the liberty of their fellow-citizens, and with it their own.

The fate of the bank of the United States clearly demonstrated where the real danger to the public liberty exists. It was not in the bank. Its popularity had been great, and the conviction of its utility strong and general, up to the period of the bank veto. Unbounded as was the influence of president Jackson, and undisguised as his hostility was to the bank, he could not prevent the passage through congress of a bill to recharter it. In such favor and esteem was it held, that the legislature of Pennsylvania, in which his friends had uncontrolled sway, almost unanimously recommended the recharter. But his veto came; he blew his whistle for its destruction; it was necessary to sustain his party, which could only be done by sustaining him, and instantly, and every where, down with the bank and huzzah for the veto, became the watch words and the rallying cry of his partisans. That same legislature of Pennsylvania, now, with equal unanimity, approved the destruction of an institution which they had believed to be so indispensable to the public prosperity, and deluded people felt as if they had fortunately escaped a great national calamity!

The veto notwithstanding, the house of representatives, by a large majority, resolved that the public deposits were safe in the custody of the bank of the United States, where they were placed, under the sanction and by the command of the law; and it was well known at Washington, that this resolution was passed in anticipation, and to prevent the possibility of their removal. In the face and in contempt of this decision of the representatives of the people, and in violation of a positive law, the removal was ordered by the president a few months after, the secretary of the treasury having been previously himself removed, to accomplish the object. And this brings me to consider the effect produced upon the business and interests of the country, by the

Second event to which I alluded. It is well known to be the usage of banks, to act upon the standing average amount of their deposits, as upon a permanent fund. The bank of the United States had so regulated its transactions upon the deposits of the United States, and had granted accommodations and extended facilities, as far as could be safely done on that basis. The deposits were removed and dispersed among various local banks, which were urged by an authority not likely to be disregarded, especially when seconding, as it did, their own pecuniary interests, to discount and accommodate freely on them. They did so, and thus these deposits performed a double office, by being the basis of bank facilities, first in the hands of the bank of the United States, and afterwards in the possession of the local banks. A vast addition to the circulation of the country ensued, adding to that already so copiously put forth and putting forth, by the multitude of new banks which were springing up like mushrooms. That speculation and overtrading should have followed, were to have been naturally expected. It is surprising that there were not more. Prices rose enormously, as another consequence; and thousands were tempted, as is always the case in an advancing market, to hold on or to make purchases, under the hope of prices rising still higher. A rush of speculators was made upon the public lands, and the money invested in their purchase, coming back to the deposit banks, was again and again loaned out to the same or other speculators, to make other and other purchases.

Who was to blame for this artificial and inflated state of things? Who for the speculation, which was its natural offspring? The policy of government, which produced it, or the people? The seducer or the seduced? The people, who only used the means so abundantly supplied, in virtue of the public authority, or our rulers, whose unwise policy tempted them into the ruinous speculation?

Third. There was a measure, the passage of which would have greatly mitigated this unnatural state of things. It was not difficult to foresee, after the veto of the bank, some of the consequences that would follow—the multiplication of banks, a superabundant currency, rash and inordinate speculation, and a probable ultimate suspension of specie payments. And the public domain was too brilliant and tempting a prize, not to be among the first objects that would attract speculation. In March, 1833, a bill passed both houses of congress, to distribute among the states the proceeds of sales of the public lands. It was a measure of strict justice to the states, and one of sound policy, as it respects the revenue of the United States; but the view which I now propose to take of it, applies altogether to the influence which it would have exerted upon circulation, and speculation. It was the constitutional duty of the president to have returned the bill to congress with his objections, if he were opposed to it, or with his sanction, if he approved it; but the bill fell by his arbitrarily withholding it from congress.

Let us here pause and consider what would have been the operation of that most timely and salutary measure, if it had not been arrested. The bill passed in 1833, and in a short time after, the sales of the public lands were made to an unprecedented extent; in so much, that in one year they amounted to about twenty-five millions of dollars, and in a few years, to an aggregate of about fifty millions of dollars. It was manifest, that if this fund, so rapidly accumulating, remained in the custody of the local banks, in conformity with the treasury circular, and with their interests, it would be made the basis of new loans, new accommodations, fresh bank facilities. It was manifest that the same identical sum of money might, as it in fact did, purchase many tracts of land, by making the circuit from the land offices to the banks, and from the banks to the land offices, besides stimulating speculation in other forms.

Under the operation of the measure of distribution, that great fund would have been semi-annually returned to the states, and would have been applied, under the direction of their respective legislatures, to various domestic and useful purposes. It would have fallen upon the land, like the rains of heaven, in gentle, genial, and general showers, passing through a thousand rills, and fertilizing and beautifying the country. Instead of being employed in purposes of speculation, it would have been applied to the common benefit to the whole people. Finally, when the fund had accumulated and was accumulating in an alarming degree, it was distributed among the states by the deposit act, but so suddenly distributed, in such large masses, and in a manner so totally in violation of all the laws and rules of finance, that the crisis of suspension in 1837 was greatly accelerated. This would have been postponed, if not altogether avoided, if the land bill of 1833 had been approved and executed.

To these three causes, fellow-citizens, the veto of the bank of the United States, with the consequent creation of innumerable local banks, the removal of the deposits of the United States from the bank of the United States, and their subsequent free use, and the failure of the land bill of 1833, I verily believe, all, or nearly all, of the pecuniary embarrassments of the country are plainly attributable. If the bank had been rechartered, the public deposits suffered to remain undisturbed where the law required them to be made, and the land bill had gone into operation, it is my firm conviction that we should have had no more individual distress and ruin than is common, in ordinary and regular times, to a trading and commercial community.

And do just now take a rapid review of the experiments of our rulers. They began with incontestably the best currency in the world, and promised a better. That better currency was to be supplied by the local banks; and in the first stages of the experiment, after the removal of the deposits, they were highly commended from high authority, for their beneficial and extensive operations in exchange, the financial facilities which they afforded to the government, and so forth. But the day of trouble and difficulty, which had been predicted, for the want of a United States bank, came. They could not stand the shock, but gave way, and the suspension of 1837 took place. Then what was the course of those same rulers? They had denounced and put down the bank of the United States. It was a monster. They had extolled and lavished praises on the local banks. Now, they turned round against the objects of their own creation and commendation. Now they were a brood of little monsters, corrupt and corrupting with separate privileges, preying upon the vitals of the states. They vehemently call out for a divorce of state and bank. And meanly retreating under the sub-treasury, from the storm which themselves had raised, leaving the people to suffer under all its pelting and pitiless rage, they add insult to injury, by telling them that they unreasonably expect too much from government, that they must take care of themselves, and that it is the highest and most patriotic duty of a free government to take care of itself, without regard to the sufferings and distresses of the people.