He was obliged to spend most of the summer in Washington, making occasional visits North to look after the Bucksport works and see his family. He now definitely decided to stay on the Coast Survey. After a short visit at Newport in August, he returned to Washington, and spent no little time during the next month in hunting up suitable quarters. How thoroughly sick and tired he was of being separated from his wife and children; how he longed to live united with them; how lofty and noble were his ideals of woman, of marriage, of duty, of ambition; and what success he was gaining on the survey,—are graphically depicted in his letters to his wife:—
Washington, September 5, 1850.
My Dearest Wife,—I began to-day seeking for a boarding-house. I find great objection is made to children coming to table. I think a great deal of our children taking their meals with us, and I think I had rather go to the second table myself than to be deprived of the pleasure....
I regret I did not remain a week longer. I found on reaching Washington that there was no necessity for my hurrying back. We should all of us have enjoyed the bathing. It is mighty lonesome here, particularly from sundown till about eight in the morning. It spoils a man on some accounts to be married, particularly if he gets a good, lovable wife. He is not good for much away from her. I assure you I will never be separated from you again another winter unless it is an absolute impossibility for us to be together. We are young, and let us not renounce the comfort and support of each other’s society unless the necessity is imperative. I know you will say amen to this....
Washington, Saturday, September 6, 1850.
My Dear Wife,—... A devoted, loving, tender, sympathizing wife is the greatest element of my success in life. It adds to my strength in all respects. Think of this, Margaret. If I achieve what may be truly called success, it will be due mainly to you. I have no desire for place, or wealth, or station. But should I do something for my kind, should it be said of me when I am gone that the world owes something to my memory, that my fellow-men are happier and better for my labors, this is what I call success. It can be achieved only by constancy, by nobility of purpose, by a self-sacrificing spirit. Your example and your affection for me will help me to cultivate these virtues.
Yesterday the House passed by ten votes the Texas Boundary and the New Mexico Territorial Bill. You cannot imagine the gratulation which was shown by all persons, both in and out of Congress, when the result was announced. The feeling was that all the danger which had menaced us had been averted. If necessary, a great many members would have changed their votes. On Wednesday the measure was defeated by a majority of forty-six votes; on Thursday by a majority of eight votes; and yesterday it passed by a majority of ten. All the other measures will be rapidly pushed through, and Congress will rise early next month.
In my judgment the most dangerous crisis that has occurred since the foundation of the government has been happily passed. Henry Clay has been throughout the master spirit of the times. His services the present session are enough to immortalize his name. It is the crowning triumph of his civic life, and he will descend to posterity as one of the heroes and benefactors of his age and generation. He has not his peer in Congress. No man that combines his intrepid soul, his extended views, his large American heart, his admirable tact and presence of mind, and that quality of leadership which enables him through doubt and defection, in spite of unexpected difficulties and notwithstanding repeated defeats, to undauntedly pursue his course and finally achieve the ultimate triumph. This is Henry Clay in his seventy-fifth year. He has not his peer in our whole parliamentary history.
Sunday, September 8. Yesterday the California and Utah bills passed the House. Last evening a salute of one hundred guns was fired, and a large multitude assembled in front of the National to listen to a serenade to Henry Clay. But the glorious old man had gone out to enjoy a quiet Sunday in the country, and was not to be seen.
Little Sue must, I know, miss me very much. She is a great pet of mine. I never feel as if I could be put out with her, let her be ever so whimsical. Tell Sue she shall see her papa in a few weeks, and then we shall keep together for many months. Our long separation, dearest wife, is drawing to a close, and we shall be again united. My last visit was an oasis in the desert.