of sentiment among the people, resulting in a shifting, aimless policy, which made the attitude of the Republic appear weak, if not cowardly, in the eyes of the European powers.
Such was the situation of affairs when Henry Clay entered the House of Representatives and was made its Speaker. In his annual message Madison held fast to the fiction that France had withdrawn the offensive decrees, while at the same time he complained that the French government had not shown any intention to make reparation for the injuries inflicted, and he hinted at a revival of non-intercourse. But the sting of the message was directed against Great Britain, who had refused to withdraw the Orders in council, and continued to do things “not less derogatory to the dearest of our national rights than vexatious to our trade,” virtually amounting to “war on our lawful commerce.” Madison therefore advised that the United States be put “into an armor and attitude demanded by the crisis, and corresponding with the national spirit and expectations.” This had a warlike sound, while, in fact, Madison was an exceedingly unwarlike man. He ardently wished, and still hoped to prevent, an armed conflict. To make him adopt a war policy required pushing.
But the young Republican leaders came to the front to interpret the “national spirit and expectation.” They totally eclipsed the old chiefs by their dash and brilliancy. Foremost among them
