I must remark, (in passing) that a proposition was brought forward by Mr. Webster, at that very identical time, if my memory don’t deceive me, in reference to interference of the United States in behalf of Greece. The “nation”—no, sir, the United States, the People of the United States, can never forget the zeal, the more than parental zeal, with which the present Secretary of State then hovered over the resolution—aye, and over the personal and political character of the mover, (Mr. Webster)—with all the tender anxiety of a parent hen with her one chicken. There was full as much bustle, and the object of at least equal value; for, little things are great to little men.
We all know the gentleman, (Mr. Bartlett) from New Hampshire—Portsmouth, New Hampshire—unfortunate Portsmouth!—haud ignarus mali, miseris succurrere disco—thrice unhappy Portsmouth—infelix Dido—she who stands again almost alone, as in the days of John Langdon, for our rights—how was she treated on that occasion, and by a former Representative of Portsmouth too, as well as by his new ally—in defence of what? In defence of the proposition of Mr. Webster, and of his political character, as a federalist of the true Boston stamp; and by whom? By the then Speaker, now Secretary of State.
Now, sir, I do not pretend to be a man of more than ordinary sagacity. I never pretended to be able to see farther into a millstone than other People, and not so far as those that look through the eye—but I did, immediately after this transaction, write a letter to a friend, which letter, with its postmark and date, can now be produced, stating that, according to my view of things, an alliance, offensive and defensive, had been got up between Old Massachusetts and Kentucky—between the frost of January, and young, blythe, buxom, and blooming May—the eldest daughter of Virginia—young Kentucky—not so young, however, as not to make a prudent match, and sell her charms for their full value. I had been an eye and ear witness of the billing and cooing between the old sinner and the young saint, and had no doubt that the consummation would, in a decent time, be effected. I wrote that letter then, in the month of January, 1824; and, therefore, when I came here in the month of December, 1824, on my return from Europe, I wanted no ghost to tell me about the future movements of certain “distinguished public characters,” and consequently of the evolutions of the forces, whether the heavy phalanxes, or active legions, under their command. I wanted nobody to tell me, what I thought it required not more than half an eye to see.
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