administration itself to cease with them? ought it not to take warning from the events of recent elections? Above all, should not the Senate, constituted as it is, be the last body to lend itself to further experiments upon the business and happiness of this great people?"

Mr. CLAY opposed to the Sub-treasury scheme, at every stage, the same determined resistance; but, after a hard-fought and protracted contest, after obtaining ground inch by inch, it was carried through both Houses of Congress, and became a law in July, 1840.

Mr. CLAY now stood amid the wrecks of all his proud schemes for the aggrandizement of his country. The Iconoclast, the ruthless image breaker, had passed through them and overthrown them all. His patriotic heart swelled with grief and indignation, as he beheld the desolations of his beloved land. Through years his adversaries had exulted in continual victory. He had been compelled to contemplate, in sorrow, the impotence of his most heroic efforts. Still, through darkness and trial he battled on. The people would awake to their senses, he believed, and better times would come. At last, distant murmurings announced the coming of that looked-for period. The people were rising in their majesty. Hope again sat upon the brow and lighted the eyes of the waiting statesman. How well that hope was justified, and how long the dawning retained its hues of promise, the coming pages will disclose.

CHAPTER XI.

Enthusiasm of 1840-Extra session of Congress-Death of Harrison-Defection of Tyler-Grief of Mr. CLAY, at the subversion of his cherished hopes-He advocates a tariff, designed for protection-Resigns his seat-His farewell to the Senate.

SELDOM has our country been the scene of such enthusiasm, as that which characterized the Presidential canvass of 1840. The interests of the country, as we have shown, were at the lowest stage of depression. In a change of policy the people fondly hoped to see business revive, and prosperity again smile upon the land. The reaction had fairly come, and in its train, its usual concomitants, extravagant expectations for the future, and almost delirious excitement. Immense mass meetings were held in every part of the country; torchlight processions paraded the streets at night; banners were painted, bearing every possible reference to the hero of Tippecanoe and the Thames; log-cabins were erected, and a sudden passion for "hard cider" seized upon the stoutest advocates of temperance. Such extremes looked almost like madness, but they were the violent rebound of a nation's feelings after years of disaster. The twelve years, during which they had idolized the hero of New Orleans and adhered to his policy, had not brought the promised blessings... Weary with waiting, they rose by a movement almost unanimous, demanding other laws and another order of rulers.

A convention met at Harrisburg. HENRY CLAY, it was expected, would be their choice; but the American people, ir the opinion of the convention, would be more enthusiastic toward a military chieftain. General Harrison received the nomination. Nobly throwing aside every consideration of personal disappointment, Mr. CLAY devoted himself to the success of the candidate.

By an immense majority, General Harrison was borne into

power.

The new President, as one of his first acts, called an extra session of Congress. The condition of the country demanded, he believed, immediate measures of relief. Congress convened the last day of May, 1841. Meanwhile, President Harrison, to the unutterable grief of the nation, had died. John Tyler, the Vice President, was occupying the Executive Chair. But the country, relying upon the soundness of the men whom it had elevated to power, was yet sanguine and hopeful.

Congress set to work, at once, to repeal the obnoxious laws of previous sessions. The Sub-treasury was abolished. A general bankrupt law was established. A bill to create a National Bank was adopted. Every thing seemed to move on, as the party in power could wish. But suddenly, and from an unexpected quarter, came a check. The Bank bill returned with the President's veto. This announcement fell upon Congress and upon the country like a thunderbolt. The grief and rage of one party

and the exultation of the other were extreme. Mr. CLAY, who had entered upon the Session full of spirit, changed his tones from hopefulness to anxiety. When the veto was announced, he arose and addressed the Senate in the following words:

"Mr. President, the bill, which forms the present subject of our deliberations, had passed both Houses of Congress by decisive majorities, and, in conformity with the requirement of the Constitution, was presented to the President of the United States for his consideration. He has returned it to the Senate, in which it originated, according to the direction of the Constitution, with a message announcing his veto of the bill and containing his objections to its passage. And the question now to be decided, is, shall the bill pass by the required Constitutional majority of two-thirds, the President's objections notwithstanding. Knowing, sir, but too well that no such majority can be obtained, and that the bill must fall, I would have been rejoiced to have found myself at liberty to abstain from saying one word on this painful occasion. But the President has not allowed me to give a silent vote. I think, with all respect and deference to him, he has not

reciprocated the friendly spirit of concession and compromise, which animated Congress in the provisions of this bill, and especially in the modification of the sixteenth fundamental condition of the Bank. He has commented, I think with undeserved severity, on that part of the bill; he has used, I am sure unintentionally, harsh, if not reproachful language; and he has made the very concession which was prompted as a peace-offering, and from friendly considerations, the cause of stronger and more decided disapprobation of the bill. Standing in the relation to that bill which I do, and especially to the exceptionable clause, the duty which I owe to the Senate, and to the country, and self-respect impose upon me the obligation of, at least, attempting the vindication of a measure which has met with a fate so unmerited and so unexpected.

"On the fourth of April last, the lamented Harrison, the President of the United States, paid the debt of nature. President Tyler, who, as Vice-President, succeeded to the duties of that office, arrived in the city of Washington on the sixth of that month. He found the whole metropolis wrapped in gloom, every heart filled with sorrow and sadness, every eye streaming with tears, and the surrounding hills yet flinging back the echo of the bells which were tolled on that melancholy occasion. On entering the Presidential mansion, he contemplated the pale body of his predecessor stretched before him, and clothed in the black habiliments of death. At that solemn moment, I have no doubt that the heart of President Tyler was overflowing with mingled emotions of grief, of patriotism, and of gratitude-above all, of gratitude to that country, by a majority of whose suffrages, bestowed at the preceding November, he then stood the most distinguished, the most elevated, the most honored of all living whigs of the United States.

"It was under these circumstances, and in this probable state of mind, that President Tyler, on the tenth day of the same month of April, voluntarily promulgated an address to the people of the United States. That address was in the nature of a coronation oath, which the chief of the state in other countries, and under other forms, takes upon ascending the throne. It referred

to the solemn obligations, and the profound sense of duty, under which the new President entered upon the high trust which had devolved upon him, by the joint acts of the people and of Providence, and it stated the principles, and delineated the policy, by which he would be governed in his exalted station. It was emphatically a whig address, from the beginning to end-every inch of it was whig, and was patriotic.

"In that address the President, in respect to the subject matter embraced in the present bill, held the following conclusive and emphatic language:

"I shall promptly give my sanction to any constitutional measure, which, originating in Congress, shall have for its object the restoration of a sound circulating medium, so essentially necessary to give confidence in all the transactions of life, to secure to industry its just and adequate rewards, and to re-establish the public prosperity. In deciding upon the adaptation of any such measure to the end proposed, as well as its conformity to the Constitution, I shall resort to the fathers of the great republican school for advice and instruction, to be drawn from their sage views of our system of government, and the light of their ever glorious example.'

"To this clause in the address of the President, I believe but one interpretation was given throughout this whole country, by friend and foe, by whig and democrat, and by the presses of both parties. It was, by every man with whom I conversed on the subject at the time of its appearance, or of whom I have since inquired, construed to mean that the President intended to occupy the Madison ground, and to regard the question of the power to establish a national Bank as immovably settled. And I think I may confidently appeal to the Senate and to the country, to sustain the fact, that this was the cotemporaneous and unanimous judgment of the public. Reverting back to the period of the promulgation of the address, could any other construction have been given to its language? What is it? I shall promptly give my sanction to any constitutional measure, which, originating in Congress,' shall have certain defined objects in view. He concedes the vital importance of a sound circulating medium to