Chapter I: HAVE been desirous, Mr. President, before the passage of this bill, (11)

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.