University of Virginia Library

LETTER LXV.

From the Portland Courier of Saturday.

Washington City, Sept. 30, 1831.
To the editor of the Portland Courier away down east in the
state of Maine.

My dear Friend,—Have you n't been in a terrible
kind of a pucker ever since my last letter to you, to
know what the President was going to say about me
and Daniel? If you have n't, I have. I never felt so

uneasy for a fortnight hardly in my life. If I went to
bed I could n't sleep, and I've got up and walked the
floor as much as half the night almost every night since.
I've wished the Bank to Guinea more than fifty times,
for there's been such a hubbub here about the Bank this
fortnight past, that I could n't get a moment's chance
to talk with the President about any thing else. We'd
have cabinet meetings once in awhile to see about moving
the deposites, and Mr. Duane and Mr. Cass and
Mr. M`Lean would talk up to the President so
about it, that he'd conclude to let 'em alone and doo
nothing about it, and let Congress manage it jest as
they'd amind to. And then we'd go home and Mr.
Kendle would come in and talk the matter over, and
read some great long letters from Mr. Van Buren, and
get the President so confused that he would lose all
patience a most.

But Mr. Kendle is the master feller to hang on that
ever I see; he's equal to the tooth ache. And he talked
and palaver'd with the President till he finally brought
him over, and then the President put his foot down and
said the deposites should be moved whether or no. And
then the botheration was to see who should move 'em.
The President told Mr. Duane to do it; but he said
his conscience would n't him.—Then the President
told Mr. Taney to take Mr. Duane's place, and see if
his conscience would let 'em. Mr. Taney tried it and
found his conscience went easy enough, so Mr. Duane
packed up and went home to Philadelphia. We were
all dreadful sorry to lose Mr. Duane, for he was a nice
man as you would see one in a thousand. It's pity he
had such a stiff conscience; he might have staid here
in the Treasury just as well as not if it had n't been
for that.

But this storm about the Bank begins to blow over,
and the President's got in a manner cooled down again.
This morning after breakfast we took the papers and
letters jest as we used to, and went away into the east
room to read the news and chat awhile; and it really

did my heart good to see the President set down once
more looking so good natured in his great arm chair,
smoking his segar. After I had read over the news to
him awhile, and got him in pretty good humor, I made
bold to out with it, and says I, Gineral, there's one
question that I want to ask you. And says he, you
know, Major, I always allow you to ask me any thing
you're a mind to, what is it? Well, says I, when we
had that talk here about a fortnight ago, you began to
say something about me and Daniel; and jest as you
got into the middle of it, Mr. Kendle came in and broke
it right off short as a pipe stem. It's been running in
my head ever since, and I've been half crazy to know
what it was you was going to say. Well, let us see,
says the Gineral, where was it I left off; for this everlasting
fuss about the Bank has kept my head so full I
can't seem to remember much about it.

Why says I, was you talking about nullification;
how the tops were beat down a little, but the roots were
all running about under ground as live as ever, and it
wouldn't be long before they'd be sprouting up again
all over the country, and there'd be a tougher scrabble
to keep 'em down than ever there had been yet; and
then you said if I and Daniel — and there that
plaguy Kendle came in, I've no patience with him now
when I think of it, and broke it right off. Ah, now I
remember, says the Gineral, how 'twas. Well, says
he, Major Downing, it is a solemn fact, this country is
to see a blacker storm of nullification before many
years comes about, than ever it has yet; the clouds are
beginning to gather now; I've seen 'em rolling over
South Carolina, and hanging about Georgia, and edging
along into old Virginny, and I see the storm's a
gathering; it must come, and if there isn't somebody
at the helm that knows how to steer pretty well, the
old ship must go down. I aint afraid, says he, but
what I can keep her up while I have the command, but
I'm getting to be old and must give up soon, and
then what'll become of her, I don't know.—But what

I was going to say was this; I've been thinking if you
and Daniel, after I give up, would put your heads together
and take charge of her till the storm has blown
over, you might save her. And I dont know who else
can.

But how do you mean, Gineral, says I? Why to
speak plain, says he, if nullification shows its head, Daniel
must talk and you must fight. There's nothing else
will do the job for it that I know of. Daniel must go
into the Presidential chair, and you must take command
of the army, and then things will go straight. At this
I was a little struck up and I looked him right in the
eye, and says I, Gineral, do you mean that Daniel Webster
ought to be President after you give up? Certainly,
says he, if you want to keep the country out of
the jaws of nullification. But, says I Gineral, Daniel
is a federalist, a Hartford Convention federalist, and I
should like to know which is worst, the jaws of nullification,
or the jaws of federalism.—The jaws of a fiddle-stick!
says he; but how do you know, Major Downing,
that Daniel is a federalist? Because, says I. I've heard
him called so down east more than a hundred times,
over and over. And that's jest all you know about it,
says he. Now I tell you how 'tis, Major Downing,
Daniel is as thorough a republican as you be, or as I be,
and has been ever since my Proclamation came out
against the nullification.

As soon as that Proclamation came out Daniel came
right over on to the republican ground and took it upon
his shoulder and carried it through thick and thin where
no other man in the country would have carried it.
Says I, Gineral, is that a fact? And says he yes, you
may depend upon it, 'tis every word truth. Well says
I, that alters the case a little, and I'll write to Uncle
Joshua and the editor of the Portland Courier and see
what they think of it, and if they think it's best to have
Daniel for President we'll have him in, and I'll take
my turn afterwards: for seeing the people are bent upon
having me for President I wont decline, though if it

is thought best that I should wait a little while, I wont
be particular about that. I'm willing to do that which
will be best for the country.