struggle against Jackson's popularity seriously depressed his spirits. Again and again he spoke of retiring to private life for the rest of his days. “This is the thirtieth year,” he wrote to a committee of citizens of Indiana in the spring of 1836, “since I first entered the service of the federal government. My labors for the public have been various and often arduous. I think they give me some title to repose. If I were persuaded that by remaining longer in the public service I could materially aid in arresting our downward progress, I should feel it my duty not to quit it. But I am not sure that my warning voice has not too often been raised. Perhaps that of my successors may be listened to with more effect.” He added that he would serve until the end of his term, which was near at hand, but he “could conceive of no probable contingency which would reconcile” him to the acceptance of another.
There is no reason for doubting that he meant all he said at the time. Sanguine temperaments like his are subject to fits of despondency and a profound yearning for repose, — an overpowering desire to be done forever with all that tries and annoys them. But such fits seldom last long. When Clay was reëlected to the Senate the succeeding winter, the “improbable contingency” which reconciled him to the acceptance of another term of service, had arrived. He did not decline.
The last session of Congress under Jackson's presidency opened on December 5, 1836. A large
