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tureto give him a hint of them. He treated )
them with a calm smile of contempt. ;
“ Caussade.” said he, wh.cn the subject had i
been alluded tn with some warmth by an Italian I
Count, a relation of his own —“Caussade has i
been mv page ; he is bound to me by many i
tics. He has—between ourselves—saved my |
life. I feel that in my own case, I should be ' t
incapable of entertaining a thought of love to- ) '
wards the wife of him on w hom I had confer- I
red such an obligation. Shall I think more <
meanly of him than myself? Must I suspect
my wife because Caussade is the handsomest ;
man at Court ? I grant my own inferiority in [ <
that respect; but I rate myself too highly in 1
others to yield to such fears.” 1 1
“But Caussade,” cried another, “it is said, t
has himself boasted oi the favor in which he ;
stands with the Duchess.”
“I believe it not; but even that testifies in
favor of my wife. She is too prudent to be
stow her favor on any one tvho would be weak
enough to boast of it.” .
Tranquil as the Duke appeared, he could not '
but feel secretly annoyed at these injurious re
ports, the more so that he could not disguise
from himse.f that the conduct of the Duchess
'dfdin some measure appear to give counten
ance to them. He had himself occasionally
'observed gl a trees on the part of Caussade too
much resembling those which had annoyed
him when he thought his passion unrequited ;
and yet had not Diana in that c'aso convinced
him of the groundlessness of his suspicions?
was it not possible that, recollecting his vow,
she was disposed to put his confidence in her
faith to a test? And if so, was it consistent
with its chivalrous conscientiousness ?
An incident, however, shortly’ alter occurred,
calculated to shake his confidence in his own
firmness. One afternoon after the banquet,
when the King found himself somewhat better
than usual, and was surrounded by a cheerful
circle, a courier suddenly brought the intelli
gence that the English bridegroom had landed
in France and might be expected ths follow- j
ing evening. Charles, who had been latterly , ■
much pleased with the conduct of the Princess, ■
and began to think, from her submission to his
will, that the news of the arrival of her intend
ed bridegroom would now no longer be disa
greeable to her, invited several of the circle,
and among others the Dake’s Italian relation, ;
to accompany him to the Princess’s apartment 1
to communicate the news. Ihe plan was no 1
sooner formed than executed: but on reaching i
her apartments they learned that she had gone t
to those of the Duchess. The King under- t
stood from this that she had gone to visit the
Duchess of Gonzaga. The party accordingly
followed tn that direction.
The anxiety of love had outstripped the cour
ier; The Princess had learned the painful ;
intelligence an hour before the King, and had
almost given way beneath this disaster. She
had already communicated to her lover her re
solve, that, from the moment her intended bus- I
band appeared, they should never meet again ;
but she felt she could not deny lo him and to
herself the consolation of a last interview be
fore the actual arrival of the English Prince.
She felt that for this purpose not a moment wjs j
to be lost. She foresaw that as soon as the in- |
telligence of his arrival was publicly comma,
nicated. every hour, every instant of her time
would be occupied with troublesome duties
which would preclude the possibility of an tn
terview. By means of the Duchess only,
through whom Caussade had communicated
the intelligence, could her purpose be effected ;
and though she felt that the hour was an un
common and unseemly one, she determined to
brave every thing, and once more to meet Caua
eaue in the Duchess’s apartments ere they I
parted for ever.
Caussade V’as already waiting. Renee,
crossing itithi stealthy step the apartment of
the Duchess.mother, entered by the private
stair what had been the former bed-room of the
Duke, which Diana had now selected as her
ordina-y sitting-room, when the Duchess’s
attendant, knocking hastily at the outer door,
announced that the King was approaching
from the Princess’s apartments. Both ladies
stood for an instant confounded : the next mo
ment the Duchess exclaimed, “Quick, Renee
—back te the Duchess-mother”and almost
pushed her out by the tapestry door.
•• And you ?—he?” stammered the Princess.
“ I am conscious of no crime—only begone
—away 1”
“I must remain, generous friend,” cried
Caussade “ but fear no suspicion.”
He had dropped on his knee in the excite
ment of his feelings when the door opened.
He sprang up, and with such rapidity, that al
though the King perceived his kneeling attitude,
those who followed could scarcely say that they
perceived his change of posture. The King
east a look of indignation on Caussade, and then
an inquiring glance round the chamber. “Par
don, Duchess,’’ said he, “this unceremonious
intrusion, 1 thought to find my sister here.”
Diana, thus found for the first time in the
company of a stranger youth, and feeling the
peril in which her reputation was placed, turn
ed pale, as she faintly said, “She is probably
with the Duchess-mother. She is not with
me.”
“ I am glad of that,” said the King involunta
rily, breathing more freely. “Your pardon—
I go in search of her.”
He left the chamber quietly with his train;
but as he went, the Italian Count found time to
whisper to Caussade, with a sneer oi contempt
—“Behind the palace, after dusk, I shall avenge
my cousin’s honor.
“He himself, methinksLwere the person to
do so,” replied Caussade. in the same tone;
“No matter. I shall avenge the injuries of his
wife.”
Notwithstanding her consciousness of inno
cence, Diana for the first time began seriously
to feel that innocence itself must pay regard to
appearances; and with the painful feeling that
she had given her husband apparent cause for
distrust, she anxiously waited his arrival, de
fettnined to unload her heart, and to commu
nicate to him all her anxiety. She waited,
however, in vain; with every quarter of an
hour her anxiety increased, but still he came
not.
The scene in the Duchess’s apartments had
awakened too strong a sensatien, not to find
its way speedily to the cars of tha Duke. As
he listened to the tale, the glow of indignation
more than once flushed his face ; he clenched
his fists ; but again resuming his composure—
“ And yet,” cried he, “ I know she is innocent.
I will not yield to mistrust. Tell me a hand
some Woman in Paris, at whose feet some fool
has not thiown himself when he found an op.
portunity. True, his presumption calls for
punishment, and it shall Jhave it.
“It has been punished by this time,” cried
the brother of the Italian Count. “My brother
has chalelnged him, and by this time the con
test is decided.”
“I grieve on your br*ther’s account,” said
Gonzaga, with a frown, “that such should be
the case; for if Caussadt’s sword reaches him
. not, he must meet mine. I will teach him not
to interfere uncalled for where my honor is
concerned, and I am here to do myself right.”
At this moment the brother entered enraged.
Caussade had broke Lis appointment; and
when his opponent inquired after him at the pa
lace, he was informed that he had just before
, mounted his horse and rode off; most proba
bly he had taken to flight.
It is easy to conceive how the Duke was
now besieged on all sides. The guilt of his
wife seemed to be rendered in the highest de
gree probable by the flight of tho alleged para
moor. He was incited by his friends to every
possible step—to revenge —to separation—to
imprisonment of the guilty. A thousand tri
fling occurrences, which had formerly ap
peared in a milder light, were now misrepre
sented, and exhibited to him under their most
envenomed aspect. He felt, at length, that
further wavering must appear unmanly delay,
or the more dotage of affection.
“Be it so,” lie exclaimed at once, “I will
avenge myself. Away with divorce—impris
onment ; these may suit the populace. The
unsullied honor of a Duke demands blood—
death. Ere tomorrow’s sun rises I shall have
satisfaction. Ye shall be witnesses—judges, (
as well as me. Mean time,”added he, with a j
wild look, “ give ordets for the banquet; let j
us have wine and revelry 1 To move to our 1 i
revenge with a heavy lieart would argue a '
consciousness that that vengeance was an un
just one. Why stare ye at me so 1 Am I not ;
doing all ye ask of me—and more?”
The Duke returned not this night to his res- ;
idence,though never before, since his marriage,
had Diana missed him from her side. She
passed the night awake a::d in tears.
Mean time, in the noisy circle of relations
and friends which surrounded the Duke, he
appeared the gayest of all. To the rest, the
wine seemed to have lost its relish, and an ir- ;
resistible feeling of melancholy spread over the i
company. With the first glimmer of morning ;
the Duke gave the signal to rise. They ail ' ;
followed him silently to his ap-irtmi nts in the ;
palace and t<> bis chamber. After contempla
ting, n®t without shudde .ing, but without speak
ing,—for the earnest and imperious eye of Gon
zaga awed them into silence—the preparations
for his revenge, which he went about with a
terrible composure, they advanced, headed by
Gonzaga and two bearing torches, into the
sleeping room of the Duchess. The Duke
himself, in whose bearing not the slightest tre
mor was observable, bore in his hand a salver,
on which was placed a dagger and a cup evi
dently filled with poison. Thus they advanced
to the bed.
The Duchess raised herself, pale and staring
in astonishment at the unexpected intrusion.
“Diana,” said the Duke, mournfully, “you
are accused of infidelity—nay, in the opinion
of these gentlemen, convicted of it. My honor
demands revenge and punishment! The first
this steel planted in the heart of your seducer
shall procure me ; the latter, this cup of poi
son, destined for you, shall ensure. Answer
me nothing,” he continued, as she made a move
ment with her lips to speak. “Nothing you
can say, can shake my resolve. Remember
ing my belief in you, if you feel yourself inno
cent drain the cup with calmness ; it is guilt
alone that need fear death.”
A deadly paleness for a moment overspread
the cheek of the Dnchess. But soon with a
calm and almost cel. stial smile, and a look that
sank deep into the hearts of all present, she
stretched out her hand and took the cup.
“I drink, my Lewis,” said she, “since you
desire it. But listen to my last prayer. Cast
away that dagger ; let me be the only sacrifice.
Promise me at least,” she added, as she ob
served Gonzaga’s troubled lock, “ not to use it
for three days,”
Gonzaga, with a restless and sorrowful
glance, nodded consent. Gazing on him with
composure, she drank tha potion. When the
cup was half drained, the Duke exclaimed,
“Stop ! the rest is mine. I have sworn that I
would not overlive the conviction of inno
cence,”
“Gonzaga!” she exclaimed, throwing away
what remained in the cup, •* live if you can ;
my innocence will survive me. Never have I
offended against you.”
“Bethink thee,” said the Duke, sternly—
“ bethink thee. Death already flaps his wings
above your head. Die not with a falsehood on
your lips. Man will lie to save life, while it
may be saved ; but when salvation is past hope,
truth resumes its rights. Are you guiltless ?”
“I am, Gonzaga!”
“Is she ?” exclaimed the Duke, turning to
the rest. “ See you this serene, unclouded
look. Can this woman be guilty ?”
“Oh ! no, no !” exclaimed all, and. young
and old, sinking on their knees by the bedside,
wept aloud.
“To this then,” exclaimed the Duke, “ye
have brought me, to despair and death, because
I was a fool like you, and unworthy of this
pure angel, like yourselves. Begone! Ye
are no relations of mine. But you, Diana.”
and he continued in a tone of calmness, “ shake
off the fear of death. I have not lost my con
fidence in you. The cup you drank of was in.
nocent as is your life. O pardon me that I
was under the necessity of agitating you with
this terror; but you yourself compelled me to
let all the world behold you in the same light
in which I see you myself.”
He threw his left arm round his astonished
wife, while with his-right he motioned to his
companions to retire. When they had retired
—“You may ask me,” aid he, turning to his
wife, “why I have done .his, and 1 may well
answer, dearcut Diana, why such reckless con
duct on the part of a prudent wife ? Even vir
tue must borrow its lustre in some measure
from appearances ; and my wife ought not to
neglect them. The King, lam told,surprised
Caussade m your apartment, and on his knees
before you.”
“ Dearest Lewis,” answered Diana, “ I have
indeed offended against your love, but 1 was
compelled to do so that I might not commit a
greater offence against friendship. But after
what has happened, 1 owe you a full explana
tion. Never on one occasion was I alone with
Caussade—for at tho very moment when the
King entered—the Princess Renee had taken
her departure.”
“In God’s name!” exclaimed the Duke,
springing up in surprise.
“ Fear nothing. The Princess’s bridegroom
has arrived. Duty will now banish love.
Caussade shall appear here no more. The
King himself cannot chide me ; for has not he,
have not you, directed me in all things to be
obedient to the desires of the Princess ? When
the wedding is over I shall appear justified in
your eyes, ay, and in thosj of your bloodthirs
ty friends.”
The conversation was interrupted by a mes
sage from the King, who felt himself worse,
having been wearied out by the preparations
of the day before for the reception of the Eng
lish nucst. The Duke Gonzaga was directed,
along with several of the courtiers, to set out
to meet the Prince to conduct him to his resi
dence, and thence, as soon as he wished it, to
the royal presence. He started without de
lay. Shortly afterward, the Daehess was sent
for by the Princess. More than ever at this
trying moment did Renee feel the want of her
friend’s encouraging ai d soothing converse.
Every instant, however, their conversation was
interrupted. Pitiable, io truth, secftied the
condition of the unfortunate Princess, compell
ed with heavy heart to wear the appearance of
composure, and with tears in her eyes, which
she tried to sjnother under a smile, to attend to
the thousand little minutitb of the bridal pre
parations.
Yet, in spite of her sorrow, curiosity main
tained its right. She grew pale, indeed, when
as evening began to darken, the din of music
and the glare of torches announced the arrival
of her bridegroom : but' speedily a confidential
! messenger was despatched to bring back news
’ of the Piincc’-j external appearance. The an-
swer which was brought—though evidently as ■
favorable as possible, was i.i.t encouraging.
He diu not. said the messenger, resemble Ins
portrait: he was older and more dignified, vet I
not handsomer. Gonzaga’s gloomv counlen- I
ance, as he sometime afterwards entered her
chamber, seemed the herald of any thing but
good fortune. lie had spoken to the Piince,
and had conducted him to caurt ; and his ac
count corresponded pretty nearly with that of
the page. He came to announce that the King
intended himself to be present the next day at
the ceremony of presentation; and had sent
him to learn at what hour the Princess could
receive him. Renee threw her arms about
Diana’s neck, who received from her husband
without difficulty, permission tc rcmein with
her friend till the meeting.
The decisive moi ring nt last arrived ; and as
the appointed hour struck, the Princess, beau
tiful in spite of her paleness and the traces of
tears in her eyes, \i hieh, even thus shaded, out
shone the lustre of the diamonds w liich cover
ed her dress, entered the hall, a picture of re
signation, accompanied -by the Duchess and
her ladies. The King and Queen with their
attendants, and, in short, the whole court were
already assembled. The King advanced to
wards his sister with a smile, and whispered in
her ear, “ Obedience meets reward.”
'L he w ords sounded in her ear like mockery; •
she could not lilt up her eyes. in which she fl It I
the thickly gathering tears! Scarcely had she, j
supported" by Diana’s arm, taken the place as- j
signed to her, when a murmur through the hall j
announced the arrsval of the bridegroom. Ao
indescribable feeling of agony began to over
power her;’ she saw nothing—she heard
uothiug more ; when the folding doors unclos
ed, all grew black before her eyes. She first
awoke out of her dream on hearing an invol
untary shout, in which Gonzaga’s voice was
perceptible. The Ki- g was standing before
her with the Prince in his hand. She felt she
must raise her eyes to him; but she seemed
turned to stone again u hen in the bridegroom,
she recognised, in the apparel of a Piii.ce —
Caussade.
“ Can my fair bride,” said he, kneeling,“par
don (he precipitation with which I sought is: ;
disguise to gain her affection ? Had 1 read
dislike in her looks I would have remained un
known. Since yesterday evening the Kins
knows of my secret ; the. Duke of , who
yesterday made his entrance under my name,
informed him of all.’’
'I he astonishment of tho Court, the joyful
surprise ot Gonzaga, the confusion of his rela
tives, who, though not yet informed of all, be
gan to form plausible conjectures as to the truth
exceeded not the union of ill these three feel
ings in the bosom erf the bride ; the bloom re
turned to her cheek, the lustre to her eye ; vet
the magic suddenness of this revolution made
Her feel a seriousness—in which delight seem
ed blended with melancholy.
I he dream of her life had been unexpected
ly realized ; love and duty, by the strangest
combination of circumstances, reconciled ; the
future spread in sunny prospect before her:
but the recollections of the past threw a not
unpleasing shadow across that sun shine ; and
tempering the natural gaietv and levity of her
disposition, impressed her with the conviction
that henceforth the Princess of England could
be wtser and better than tho Princess oi
France.
wimcSL j
Rcuiarks oi* the Johaa C.
Callioun.
Delivered in the Senate of the United States, !
March 21, 1834, on the motion of Mr. Web- I
ster for leave to introduce a bill to continue j
the charter of the Bank of the United States ;
for the six years after the expiration of the
present charter.
I rise, said Mr. C. in order to avail myself
of an early opportunity to express my opinion
on the measure proposed by the Senator from
Massachusetts, and the questions immediately
connected witii it, on the ground that, on a sub.
ject so immediately connected with the inter
est of every class in the community, there
should be an early declaration of their senti
ments by the members of this body, so that all
might know what to expect, and on what to !
calculate.
1 shall vote for the motion of the Senator,
not because I apprt ve of the measure he pro
poses, but because I consider it due in courtesy,
to grant leave, unless there be strong reasons
to the contrary, which is not the case in this
instance; but while I cm prepared to vote for
h's motion, and, let me add, to do ample justice
to his motives tor introducing the bill, I can
not approve of the measure he proposes. In
every view which I have been able to take it is
objectionable. Among the objections, I place
the uncertainty as to its object. It is left per
fectly open to conjecture, whether a renewal
of the charter is intended, or a mere continu
ance with the view of affording the bank tune
to wind up its affairs; and what increases 'he
uncertaintv is, if we compare the provisions of
the proposed bill with the one or the other of
these objects, it is equally unsuited to either.
If a renewal of the charter be intended, six
years is too short; if a continuance, too long.
I, however, state this as a mere minor onjec
tion. There is another of far mon; decisive
character; it settles nothing, it leaves every
thing unfixed—it perpetuates the present strug
gle which so injuriously agitates the country
—a struggle of bank against bank—one set of
opinions against another; and prolongs the
whole, without even an intervening armistice,
to the year 1842—a period that covers two
Presidential ierms, and, by incuitable conse.
quences, running for two successive presiden
tial elections, the politics of the country mto
the bank question, and the bank question into
politics, with the mutual coriuption which must
be engendered; and during the whole period,
keeping the currency of the country, which the
public interest requires should have the utmost
stability, in a state of uncertainty and fluctua
tion.
But why should I pursue the obiections to
the plan proposed by the Senator from Massa
chusetts (Mr. Webster.) He himself acknow
ledges the measure to be defective, and that he
would prefer one of a more permanent char
acter. He has not proposed this as the best
measure, but has brought it forward under a
supposed necessity—-under the impression that
something must be done—something prompt
and immediate, to relieve the existing distress
which overspreads the laud. I concur with
him in relation to the distress—that it is deep
and extensive; that it fell upon us suddenly,
and in the midst of prosperity almost unexam
pled ; that it is daily consigning hundreds to
poverty and misery; blasting the hopes of the
enterprising ; taking employment and bread
from the laborer, and working a fearful change
in the relative condition of the moneyed man
and the money dealer on one side, and the mat)
of business on the other—taking up the former
rapidly to the top of the wheel, whilst it is
whirling the latter with equal rapidity to the
bottom. While I thus agree with the Senator
as to the distress, I am also sensible that there
are great public emergencies in which no per
manent relief can be afforded, and when the
wisest are obliged to resort to expedients;—to
palliate and to temporize in order to gain time
with a view to apply a more effectual remedy;
but there are also emergencies of precisely
the opposite character, wlien the best and most
gu t €r tt t
peimanent is the on’y practical measure; and
when mere expedients tend but to distract, to
divide and confound and thereby to delay or to
iiefcat ail lelief; and such Hewed in all its re
lations and bearings I consider the present ;
and that, the senator from Massachusetts has
not also so considered it, I attribute to the fact
that, of the two questions blended in the sub
ject under consideration he has given an un
due prominence to that which has bv far the
least relative importance; I mean the ques
tions ot the bank and of the currency. As a
mere bank question, as viewed by the senator,
it would boa matter of but little importance,
whether the renewal should be for six years,
or for a longer period; and a preference might
very properly be given to one or the other as
it might be supposed most likely to succeed—
but I must say that, in my opinion, in select
ing the period of six years, he has taken that
which will be much less likely to succeed than
one of a reasonable and proper duration* But
had he turned his view to the other and more
prominent question involved; had be regarded
the question of currency, and that the great
point was .to give it uniformity, permanency
and safety; the i i eiiceti ig thesecssontial ob
jects th : bi ik is a mere agent to be
used or not to be. used, and to be mot ilied as to
its duration and other provisions wholly ia re
ference to the highest question of the currency,
I cannot think that he would ever have pro
posed the measure which he has brought for
ward, which leaves, as 1 have already said,
every tiling connected with the subject in a
state of uncertainty and fluctuation.
All feel that the currency is a delicate sub
ject, requiring to be touched with the utmost
caution; but in order ih.it it may be seen, as ,
well as felt, why it is so delicate; why slight;
touches, cither in depressing or elevating i‘,
agitate and convulse the whole community, I
will pause to explain the cause. If we take
the aggregate property of a community, tha*
which forms the currency, constitutes in valu
a very small prop, rtion of the whole. What
this proportion is in our country and other com
mercial and trading communities, is somewhat
uncurtain. I speak co. jectur illv as fixing it
as one to twenty-five or thirty, though I pre
sume that is not far from the truth; and yet
this small proportion of the property of the
community regulates the value of all the rest,
and forms the medium of circulation by which
all its exchanges are effected; bearing in this
respect, a striking similarity, considering the
diversity of the subjects, to the blood in the hu
man or animal system.
If we turn our attention to the laws which
govern the circulation, we shall find one of
the most important to be, that, as the circula
tion is decreased-or increased, the rest of the
property will, all other circumstances remain
ing the same, be decreased or increased in
value exactly in the s»me proportion. To il
lustrate: if a community should have an ag
gregate amount of property of thiny-one mil
lions of dollars, of which one million consti
tutes its currency; if that one million be reduc
ed one tenth part, that is to say, one hundred
thousand dollars, the value of the rest will be
'.educed in like manner one tenth part, that is
three millions of dollars. And here a very im
portant fact discloses itself, which explains
why the currency should be touched with such
delicacy, and why stability and uniformity are
such essential qualities; I mean, that » sma’.!
fcdflCtion of the currencv makes a
great absolute reduction of the community, as
we sec in the case supposed; w here a reduc
tion of one hundred th usand dollars in the cur.
rency reduces the aggregate value of property
three millions of dollars, a sum thirty times
greater than the reduction of the’ currency,
from this results uii-iinportaut consideration.
If we suppose the entire currency to be in the
hands of’ one portion of the community, ai d
tl c property in the bands of the other portion,
the former, by having the currency in their
possession, might control the value of all the
property of the community, and possess them
selves of it at their pleasure. Take the case
already selected, and suppose that those who
hold the currency diminish it one half by ab
stracting it from circulation; the effect of which
would be to reduce the circulation to five hun
dred thousand dollars; the value of property
would also be reduced one half; that is, fifteen
millions of dollars. Let the process be rever
sed, and the money abstracted gradually res
tored to circulation, and the value of the pro
perty would again be increased to thirty mil.
lions.
It must be obvious, that by alternating these
processes and purchasi g at the point of the
greatest depression, when the circulation is
the least, and selling at the point of the great
est elevation, when it is at the fullest, the sup.
posed monied class, who could at pleasure in
crease or dimmish the circulation, by abstract,
ing or restoring it, might also at pleasure < ou
trol the entire property of the country. Let it
be ever borne in mind, that the exchangeable
value of the circulating medium, compared
with the property and the business of the com
munity, remains fixed, and can never be di
minished or increased by increasing or di
minishing its quantity; while on the contrary
the exchangeable value of the property, com.
pared to the currency, must increase or de
crease with every addition or diminution of
the latter. It results from this, that there is a
dangerous antagonist relation between those
who hold or command the currency and the
rest of the community; but fortunately for the
country, the holders of property and ot the
currency, are so blended as not to constitute
separate classes. Yet it is worthy of remark
—it deserves strongly to attract the attention of
those who have charge of the public affairs—
that under the operation of the banking sys
tem, and that particular distribution of proper
ty existing in the shape of creditor stocks pub
lic and private, which so strikingly distinguish
es modern society from all that preceded it,
there is strong tendency to create a separate
monied interest, accompanied with all the dan
gers which must necessarily result from such
separation, which deserves to be most carefully
watched and resisted.
I do not stand here the partizan of any par
ticular class in society—the rich or the poor,
the property holder or the money holder—and
in making these remarks, I am not actuated
by the slightest feeling of opposition io the lat
ter. My object is simply to point out relations
that exist between them, resulting from the law
winch governs the currency, in order that the
necessity for a uniform, stable and safe cur
rency, to guard against the dangerous control
of one class over another may be clearly seen.
I stand in my place simply as a senator from
South Carolina, to represent heron this floor,
and to advance the common interests of these
States, as fur as we have constitutional power,
and as far us it can be done consistently with
equity and justice to the parts. I urn the par
tizan, I have said, of no class—nor, let me add,
of any political party. I am neither of the
opposition nor of the administration. It I act
with the former in any instance, it is because
I approve of their course on tho particular oc
casion—and I shall always be happy to act
with them when I do approve. If! oppose
the administration —if 1 desire to see power
chang;: bands, it is because I disapprove of the
general Course of those in authority—because
they have departed from the principles on
which they came into office—because, instead
of using the immense power and patronage put
into their bands to secure the liberty of the
! country and advance the public good, they have
perverted them into party instruments for per
sonal objects. But mine has not been, mu’
will it be, a systematic opposition. Whatev
er measure of theirs I may deem right. I shall
cheerfully support; and I only desire that they
shall afford me more frequent occasions lor
support, and fewer for opposition, than they
have heretofore done.
With these impressions, and entertaming a
deep conviction that an unfixed, unstable and
fluctuating currency is to be ranked among the
most fruitful sources of evil, whether viewed
politically or in reference to the business trans
actions of the country, i cannot give my con
s.'iit to any measure that does not place the
currency on a solid foundation. If I thought
this determination would delay the relief so J
necessary to mitigate the present calamity, it
would be, tome a subject of ihe deepest regret.
I feel that sympathy, which I trust i ought, for
the sufferings of so many of my fellow citi
zens. who see their hopes daily withered. I,
however, console myself with the reflection
that delay will not be the result, but, on the con
trary, relief will bo hastened by the views
which I tike of the subject. I hold it impos.
sibl'e that anything can be effected regarding
the subject as a mere bank question. A tewed 1
in that light, the opinion of this House, and of
the olher branch of Congress, is probably de- '
finitivelv made up. In the Senate, it is know
that we have three parties, whose view’s, con- |
sideriiig it as a bank question, appears to be I
irreconcilable. All hope, then, of relief, must I
centre in taking a mure elevated view; and, >
in considering it in its true light, as a subject I
of currency. Thus regarded, I shall be sur
prised if. on full investigation, there will not j
, appear a remarkable coincidence of opinion, :
; even between those whose vie vs, on a slight ’
inspection, would seem to be contradictory. I
Let us then proceed to the investigation of the
subject, ueder the aspect which I have pro- i
posed.
What, then, is the currency of the United ■
■States? What its present state and condition? i
These are the questions which I propose now
to consider, with a view of ascertaining what I
is the disease? what the remedy? and what j
the means of applying it, that may be necessa- i
ry to restore our currency to a sound condition.
The legal currency of this country, that in
whi' h alone debts can be discharged accord- .
ing to law, are certain gold, silver mid copper
coins, coined at the mint of the United Staus,
and issued by their authority, under an express
provision of the Co istitution. Such is th
law. What, now are the facts? That th
currency consists almost exclusively of bank
notes; gold having entirely disappeared, a
silver m a great measure expelled by banks i
stituted by twenty-live distinct and indepe ri
ent powers, and notes issued under the authoi
i’y of the direction of thoi-e institutions. Th
are. fa point of fact, the mint of the Unit
States. They coin the actual money, (for such
we must call bank notes,) and regulate its is
sue, and consequently its value. If we i
quire us to their number, the amount of tin. i>
issue, and other circumstances calculated t
show their actual condition, we shall find that,
so rapid has been their increase, ands<> vari
ous their changes, that no accurate informa
tion cah'be had. According to the latest ami
,best that I "have been able to ascertain, th> v I
number at least four hundred and fifty, with
a capital of not less than one hundred and for
ty-five millions of dollars, witii an issue ex
ceeding seventy millions; and the whole of'
this immense fabric standing upon a metallic
currency, of less than fifteen millions ofdolk?. s. j
of which the greater part is held by the Bark ;
of the United States. If we compare the notes I
in circulation w ith the metallic currency in |
their vaults, shall find the propuxliuu about ■.
six to one, and if we compare the latter with i
the demands that may be made upon the banks, !
we shall find that the proportion is about one
to eleven. If we examine the tendency of
'.he system at this moment, we shall find that it j
is on the increase—rapidly on the increase.
There is now pending a project of a ten mil
lion bank beforgtlie legislature of New York;
but recently one of five millions was establish- '
ed in Kentucky; within a short period, one of
a large capital was established in Tennessee, '
besides others in agitation in several of the i
other States. [Here Mr. Porter of Louisiana,
said that one of eleven millions had just been I
established in that State.]
This increase is not accidental. It may be
laid down as a law, that where two currencies
are permitted to circulate in any country, one
of a cheap and the other of a dear material,
the former necessarily tends to grow upon the
latter, and will ultimately expel it from circu
lation, unless its tendency to increase be res
trained by a powerful and efficient check. ;
Experience tests the truth of this remark, as '
the history of the banking system clearly illus
trates. The Se nator from Massachusetts tru- ]
ly said that the Bank of England was derived
from that of Amsterdam, as ours in turn arc
from that of England. Throughout its prog
ress, the truth of what I have stated to be a
law of the system is strongly evinced. The
Bank of Amsterdam was merely a bank of de
posite—a store-house for the safe keeping of
the bullion and precious metal brought into
that commercial metropolis, through all the
channels of its widely extended trade. It was
placed under the custody of the city authori
ties ; and, on the deposits, a certificate was
issued as evidence of the fact, which was trans
ferrable, so as to entitle the holder to demand
the return. An important fact was soon dis
closed ; that a large portion of the deposites
might be withdrawn, and that the residue
would be sufficient to meet the returning cer
tificates, or what is the same in effect, lhat ■
certificates might be issued without making !
a deposite. This suggested the idea of a bank |
of discount as well us deposite. The fact
thus disclosed, fell too much in with the ge
nius of the system to be lost, and accordingly,
when transplanted to England, it suggested the
idea of a bank of discount and of deposite;
the very essence of which form of banking,
that on which their profit depends, consists in
issuing a greater amount of notes than it has
of specie in its vaults. But the system is reg
ularly progressing under the impulse of the
laws that govern it, from its present form to a
mere paper machine—a machine for fabrica
ting and issuing notes, not convertible into spe
: cie. Already has it once reached this con
dition, both in England and the United States,
and from which it has been iorccd back, in
both to a redemption of its notes with great
difficulty.
I bis natural tendency of the system is ac
celerated in our country by peculiar causes,
. which have greatly increased its progress.
■ There ar j two powerful c: uses in operation.
, The one resulting from that rivalry winch
i must ever take place in States situated as ours
. are, under one general government, and bav.
, itig a free and open commercial intercourse.
■ The introduction ol the banking system in one
‘ State necessarily, on this principle, introduces
■ it into all the others, of which we have seen
. a striking illustration on the part of Virginia
I and some of the other Southern States, which
■ entertained, on principle, strong aversion to the
• system; yet they were compelled, after a long
• and stubborn resistane*', to yield their objec-
■ tions. or permit their circulation to be furnish
ed by the surrounding States at the expense
I ot their own capital and commerce. The
t same cause which thus compels one State to
; imitate the example of another, in introducing
: the system from self-defence, will compel the
t other States in like manner and from the same
cause', to enlarge and give increased activity
to the banking operation, whenever any one
of the States sets the example of so doing on
its part; and thus, by mutual action and rouc
tion, the whole system is rapidly accelerated
to the final destiny which I have assigned.
This is strikingly exemplified in the rapid
progress of the system since its first introduc
tion into our country. At the adoption of our
Constitution, a period of forty five years, there
were but three banks in the United States,
the amount of whose capital I do not now re
collect, but it was very small. In this short
space they have increased to four hundred
and fifty, with a capital of one hundred and
forty five millions, as has already been stated
! —an increase exceeding nearly a hundred
fold the proportionate increase of our wealth
ami population, as great as they have been.
But it is not in numbers only tiiat they have
increased ; there has in the same time been n
rapid advance in tho proportion which their
notes in circulation bear to the specie in then’
vaults. Some twenty or thirty years ago it
was not considered safl* for the issues to ex
ceed the specie by more than two and a half or
three for one ; but now, taking tho whole, and
including the Bank of the United States with
the State Banks, the proportion is about six
to one ; and, excluding that batik, it would
very greatly exceed that-proportion. This
increase of paper in proportion to metal, re
sults from a cause which deserves much more
notice than it has heretofore attracted. It
originates maiidy ia the number of the banks.
I will proceed to illustrate it.
(7o be Continued.')
MR. BIDDLE AND THE SUSPENSION :
OF SPECIE PAYMENTS.
We copy from one ofthe Bank Reports of)
1832 the following speculations of Mr. Biddle
on the consequences of tho distinction of the
Bank ofthe United States. His co: fident pre
diction of 'he inevitable suspension of Specie
Payment in that event, has been but too liter
allv vcri’.ed:
Questions submitted to the President of the
Bank of the United Sta'cs, by Mr. Cambre
leng with his answers thereto.
1. What, in your opinion, were the causes
which enabled the batiks to resume specie pay
ments in February, 1817?
Oa the whole subj ect of specie payments
iti tin United States, my opinions are these;
1 b; lieve that the suspension of specie pay
ments was occasioned mainly by’ the circum
taaces, that the Government of the United
Slates renounced, for a time, its constitutional
> wer over the currency, in permitting the
;’solution ofthe first Bank of the U. States.
■ believe that the resumption of specie pay.
n mts was occasioned exclusively by the es
iblishment of the present Bank ofthe United
States; and I believe that the suspension of
specie payments will again inevitably and short
'y follow, whcnevei the Government shall cease
a eiercise that control through an establishment
like that of the present Bank of the United
States.
In regard to the first opinion, I have not
time to state the details; but on such a subject,
I know of no higher authority 'han the late
Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Gallatin, who
fur twelve years superintended the finances of
the country. That gentleman, i a his work
on the “Currency and Bat.kii g System of the
United States,” page 46, gives it as “his de
liberate opinion that the suspension might have
been prevented at the time that it took place
had the former Bank ofthe United States been |
still in existence.”
In regard to the second opinion, it will be i
sufficient to cite testimony ot tire best witness, '
tho Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Dallas,
who declares that he tried in vain all other
modes ofaccomp'ishiug the resumption of spe
cie payment, and that the establishment of the
bank was at length his only’ resource.
In his report to Congress in December.
1815, nearly a year after tho peace, he says:
“It is a fact, however inconsistently proved,'
that these institutions cannot, at this time bt
successfully employed to furnish an uniform
national currency. Tho failure of one at
tempt to associate them with that view, has
already been stated. Another attempt by t at
agency, in circulating Treasury notes to over
come the irregularitits of Exchange, was only
partially successful; and a plan recently pro
posed with the design to contract the issue ol
bank notes, to fix the public confidence in th
administration ofthe affairs ofthe banks, am
to give each bank a legitimate share in the cir
culation, is not likely to receive the sanction ol
the banks. Tho truth is, that the charter re
) strictions of some of the banks, the mutual re
lation and dependence ofthe bat.ksofthe same
States and ot the banks of dfferent States, and
the duties which the directors of each bank
conceive they owe to their immediate consti
tuents upon points of security or emolument
interpose an insurmountable obstacle to any
voluntary arrangement, upon national consider
ations alone, for the establishment of a medium
through the agency of the State banks.”
I lie establishment of a national bank is re
garded as the best, and perhaps the only ade
quate resource to relieve the country and the
Government from the present embairasment.’
Accordingly, the Bank of the United States
was established. One ot its '• \>t measures
was. io call a convention of delegates from the
State banks ot New \ork, I’hiladi Iplfia, Balti
more, and \ irginia, for the purpose »f concert
ing measures for the resumption of specie pay
ments.
I The bank then proposed to the convocation i
j that if the banks represented in it would re- j
■ surne specie payments, the Bank of the United
■ States would give them every iadulgei.ee, '
would at once assume their debts to the Gov
ernment. and give them time to pay the amount
to the Uailed States; would discount to a com
sideratlie extent to relieve them; and if auv
embarrassment happened to any of them in
cor.sequence of the resumption, would come
immediately to its assistance.
In referring to this arrangement, Mr. Galla,
tin, in the work just cited, page 48, says: ‘To
that compact, which was carried into com
plete effect, and to the importation of more
than seven millions of dollars in specie from
abroad by the Bank ofthe United States, the
community is indebted for the universal resto
ration ofspo 'aytnents. and fortheir hav
mg_ been s^i, :is in | during the period of great
difficulty, exportations of
specie to hieh immediately ensued.”
And, again, 82—-
As respects the past, “ it is a matter of fact
that specie payments are restored, and have
been mamtaitied, through the instrumentality
of that institution.”
In respect to the third opinion, I have no
i leaiei convictiou than this, that the suspension
ofspecie pay ments u ill recur whenever the
Gover.unm.t of the United States shall cease
to maintain some institution like that of the
present Bank of the United States.
THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY.
Ihe following from the speech of Mr. Clay,
in the sessions of 1534—35 is prophecy itself
• It could tmt have been a more faithful" deliue"
jntion it written at this time, describing what
I has occurred, instead of foretelling whar would
; be the consequence of the madness oftmsrul. .•
I “_Vr Clay thought it extremely fortunate
th.it tins subject ot Executive patronage came
up at this session, unincumbefed by any col
lateral question. At the last session we hud
the removal of the deposites, the 1 reasury Re
port sustaining it. and the Protests of the Pres,
ident against the resolution of the Senate.
'lhe Bank mingled itself in all our discussions,
and the partizans of Executive power availed
themselves of the prejudices which bad been
artfully excited against that institution, to de
ceive and blind the People as to tho enormity
of Executive pretensions. The Bank has
been doomed to destruction, and no one now
thinks the recharter of it is practicable, or
otif ht to be attempted. I fear, said Mr. Clay',
that the People will havejust and severe cause
to regret its destruction. The administration
of it was uncommonly able; and one is at a
loss which most to admire, the imperturbable
temper or the wisdom of its enlightened Pres
ident. .No country can possibly possess a
b tter general currency than it supplied. Tho
injurious consequences of the sacrifice of this
valuable institution will soon be felt. There
being no longer any sentinel at the head of our
banking establishments to warn them, by its
information and operations, of approaching
danger, the local insii'utions, already multipli.
ed to -an alarming extent, and almost daily mul
tiplying, in seasons of prosperity will make free
and unrestrained emissions. All the channels
of circulation will become gorged ; property
will rise extravagantly high, and, constantly
looki g up, the temptation to purchase will be
irresistible. Inordinate speculation will cn.
sue, debts will be freely contracted, and when
tl.e season of adversity comes, as come it
must; the banks, acti g without guide, obey
ing the law of self preservation, will, all at the
same time, call in their issues; tho vast num
ber will exaggerate the alarm, and general
distress, widespread ruin and an explosion of
the whole bemking system, or the establishment
of a new Bank of the United States, will bs
the ultimate effects.”
Atlicsis, <.a. Saturday, June 17, 1837. j
| -r '
FOII GOVERNOR.
Oil 31, CcHIrT/TTIJI, . '
«_ 11 I MS
The Standard of Union, ; n complying with its
promise to “ talk to Mr. Gilmer like a Book,*
has commenced his book with numerous quota,
tions from Mr. Gilmer’s Message to the Legis. j
lature of 1830, showing his opinions of the Land f
Lottery System, and his views in relation to the
distribution of the mines by that system. Veri
ly we think it this is the most forcible chapter,
oi the Book, Mr. G. and his friends have little
to fear from its effects upon the People, when it
shall issue from the press of the self-cotnpla.
cent Editor. We care not how much he may I
torture Mr. G’s. Messages, or pervert their sense ’
by extracting from them single sentences and
laying them before liis readers as in the extracts
alluded to—we ft el fully satisfied that the good
sense of the People of Georgia will sustain Mr.
G., not only in his views of the Lottery System,
but now that the system has been exploded and
the lands all distributed, will sanction every sen
timent which he uttered in opposition to the dis- i
tribution of the mining lands by Lottery. That
the memories of our readers may be refreshed I
on this subject, we copy from the Standard of
Union the extracts upon which he calculates so j
largely :
“It is reported, that them are valuable gold
mines in the hfjaJs to £e disposed. The nubjjc
interest requires, that the lots of rand which"*
contain g< id, should be exempted from distribu
tion by Lottery.
Tl ic spirit of speculation, which the disposi
tion of the lands by Lottery is calculated to ex
cite. has always been the greatest objection to
that system.
The knowledge that the lands contained valu
able mines of gold, would increase that spirit,
to the most injurious extent,
The community would become highly excited
by the hope of acquiring great wealth without
labor.
The mdtals of the country would be in dan
ger ot corruption, from the temptation, which
would be held out. by law, to the commission of
innumerable frauds.
Regular industry and economy would for a
time, be suspended by restless idleness, and im
aginary, as well as real and unnecessary expen
ditures.
In most cases, even the successful owners of
the rich prizes, would not be really benetitted.
’Prodigality is the usual result of riches, sud
ibehlv and easily obtained.
Mines are like the accumulation of the Peo
ple’s money in the public Treasury; the Gov
ernment should manage them for general, and
not for individual advantage.”
Can it be possible that any candid man in the
. exercise of common honesty, will gainsay tho
truth of a single sentiment uttered in these ex
tracts! We think not; and we ask the people
) to look to the results which have been produced
i by the dispesition of the mines by Lottery, and
) say whether or not the consequences foretold
by Mr. G. have not befallen the country. Look
to the records of your Courts, and learn wheth
[ er or not those “ INNUMER ABLE FR AUDS,”
of which lie so prophetically warned the Legis
lature, have not been practised upon the honest
and unsuspecting. Look around, and seaif you.
can point to a single individual, the fortunate
drawer of a mine, who has cither not been de
frauded, o« was not benefitted by it.
We are perfectly aware, that the utterance of
these sentiments did not receive the approbation
ot the people generally ; but we have always be
lieved them true as Holy Writ, and subsequent
events have proved them so. 'The time" has
passed when the people were moved in their
judgment upon this question by self interest,
and they can now canvass the subject calmly
and deliberately. That the mines should have
been sold, and the proceeds placed in the Publio
Treasury, we never entertained a doubt. Witii
then would have been the result ’ It may b*
summed up in few words—the whole peoplt
would now be relieved from taxation its bene-
ticial effects would then have extended equally
to every rjan in the community—the honest and
unsuspecting would not have been defrauded br
those speculators, (some of them members ot
the Legislature) who litterally robbed the poor
man of those lands which fortune had bestow
ed on him—the records of our Courts would not
have exposed the moral depravity of those
whose love of gain was so great as to induce
them to sacrifice every principle of moral hon
esty tit its shrine. These are only a few of th*
consequences which would have followed a dis.
position ot tho mines by sale, and we wodd
thank tl.e people of Georgia to contrast tlieta
| with those that the Lottery System Las prodti*
i ced, and say whether .Ur. Gilmer acted as be.
, ‘ atne a patriot. He foresaw aid warned the
Legislature of the consequences of a Lottery— *
iuly aware that the people whowerc interest
oil in the Lottery would not sanction the cor«
redness of his views. For this act of disin.
• teie:.tec: pat' iotistnso, far from dt servingoppro.
brmtn. he merits the highist eulogy which tho
I people can b*stow, and therefore has sliowi»
1 himself worthy tin ir cot fia nce.