I pronounce that charge totally unfounded. As to my motives for tendering him the Department of State when I did, let the man who questions them come forward. Let him look around among the statesmen and legislators of the nation and of that day. Let him then select and name the man whom, by his preëminent talents, by his splendid services, by his ardent patriotism, by his all-embracing public spirit, by his fervid eloquence in behalf of the rights and liberties of mankind, by his long experience in the affairs of the Union, foreign and domestic, a President of the United States, intent only upon the honor and welfare of his country, ought to have preferred to Henry Clay.”
These warm words did honor to the man who spoke them, but the “bargain and corruption” cry went on nevertheless.
John Quincy Adams, after his crushing defeat, took leave of the presidency with the feeling that “the sun of his public life had set in the deepest gloom.” He thought of nothing but final retirement, not anticipating that the most glorious part of his career was still in store for him. Clay, too, spoke of retirement. But at the same time he asked Edward Everett, of Massachusetts, whether he thought that, at the next presidential election, in 1832, the Eastern States could be counted upon for him, Henry Clay; he would then feel sure of the Western. Here was the old ambition, ever dominant and restless, bound to drive him into new struggles, and to bring upon him new disappointments.
