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 have 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 re-charter the first Bank of the United States, thirty
years ago, I opposed the re-charter 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. 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....
But my error in accepting the office arose out of my under rating 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 traveling 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....
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 then
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 groveling 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....
How is this right of the people to abolish an existing government, and
to set up a new one, to be practically exercised? Our revolutionary
ancestors did not tell us by words, but they proclaimed it by gallant
and noble deeds. Who are the people that are to tear up the whole fabric
of human society, whenever and as often as caprice or passion may prompt
them? When all the arrangements and ordinances of existing organized
society are prostrated and subverted, as must be supposed in such a
lawless and irregular movement as that in Rhode Island, the established
privileges and distinctions between the sexes, between the colors,
between the ages, between natives and foreigners, between the sane and
the insane, and between the innocent and the guilty convict, all the
offspring of positive institutions, are cast down and abolished, and
society is thrown into one heterogeneous and unregulated mass. And is it
contended that the major part of this Babel congregation is invested
with the right to build up at its pleasure a new government? that as
often, and whenever, society can be drummed up and thrown into such a
shapeless mass, the major part of it may establish another and another
new government in endless succession? Why, this would overturn all
social organization, make revolutions--the extreme and last resort of an
oppressed people--the commonest occurrences of human life, and the
standing order of the day. How such a principle would operate in a
certain section of this Union, with a peculiar population, you will
readily conceive. No community could endure such an intolerable state of
things anywhere, and all would sooner or later take refuge from such
ceaseless agitation in the calm repose of absolute despotism....
Fellow-citizens of all parties! The present situation of our country is
one of unexampled distress and difficulty; but there is no occasion for
any despondency. A kind and bountiful Providence has never deserted us;
punished us he perhaps has, for our neglect of his blessings and our
misdeeds. We have a varied and fertile soil, a genial climate, and free
institutions. Our whole land is covered in profusion with the means of
subsistence and the comforts of life. Our gallant ship, it is
unfortunately true, lies helpless, tossed on a tempestuous sea amid the
conflicting billows of contending parties, without a rudder and without
a faithful pilot. But that ship is our country, embodying all our past
glory, all our future hopes. Its crew is our whole people, by whatever
political denomination they are known. If she goes down, we all go down
together. Let us remember the dying words of the gallant and lamented
Lawrence, "Don't give up the ship." The glorious banner of our country,
with its unstained stars and stripes, still proudly floats at its
mast-head. With stout hearts and strong arms we can surmount all our
difficulties. Let us all, all, rally round that banner, and finally
resolve to perpetuate our liberties and regain our lost prosperity.
Whigs! Arouse from the ignoble supineness which encompasses you; awake
from the lethargy in which you lie bound; cast from you that unworthy
apathy which seems to make you indifferent to the fate of your country.
Arouse! awake! shake off the dewdrops that glitter on your garments, and
once more march to battle and to victory. You have been disappointed,
deceived, betrayed; shamefully deceived and betrayed. But will you
therefore also prove false and faithless to your country, or obey the
impulses of a just and patriotic indignation? As for Captain Tyler, he
is a mere snap, a flash in the pan; pick your Whig flints and try your
rifles again.
From 'The Speeches of Henry Clay; Edited by Calvin Colton.'
Copyright, 1857, by A. S. Barnes and Company.