Henry Clay, the "mill-boy of the Slashes," was born April 12, 1777, in Hanover County, Virginia, in a neighborhood called the "Slashes," from its low, marshy ground. The seventh in a family of eight children, says Dr. Calvin Colton, in his "Life and Times of Henry Clay," he came into the home of Rev. John Clay, a true-hearted Baptist minister, poor, but greatly esteemed by all who knew him. Mr. Clay used often to preach out-of-doors to his impecunious flock, who, beside loving him for his spiritual nature, admired his fine voice and manly presence.

When Henry was four years old the father died, leaving the wife to struggle for her daily bread, rich only in the affection which poverty so often intensifies and makes heroic. She was a devoted mother, a person of more than ordinary mind, and extremely patriotic, a quality transmitted to her illustrious son.

Says Hon. Carl Schurz, in his valuable Life of Clay, "There is a tradition in the family that, when the dead body [of the father] was still lying in the house, Colonel Tarleton, commanding a cavalry force under Lord Cornwallis, passed through Hanover County on a raid, and left a handful of gold and silver on Mrs. Clay's table as a compensation for some property taken or destroyed by his soldiers; but that the spirited woman, as soon as Tarleton was gone, swept the money into her apron and threw it into the fireplace. It would have been in no sense improper, and more prudent, had she kept it, notwithstanding her patriotic indignation."

Anxious that her children be educated, Mrs. Clay sent them to the log school-house in the neighborhood, to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic from Peter Deacon, an Englishman, who seems to have succeeded well in teaching, when sober. The log house was a small structure, with earth floor, no windows, and an entrance which served for continuous ventilation, as there was no door to keep out cold or heat. Henry had nothing of consequence to remember of this school save the marks of a whipping received from Peter Deacon when he was angry.

As soon as school hours were over each day, he had to work to help support the family. Now the bare-footed boy might be seen ploughing; now, mounted on a pony guided by a rope bridle, with a bag of meal thrown across the horse's back, he might be seen going from his home to Mrs. Darricott's mill, on the Pamunky River. The people nicknamed him "The mill-boy of the Slashes," and, years later, when the same bare-footed, mother-loving boy was nominated for the presidency, the term became one of endearment and pride to hundreds of thousands, who knew by experience what a childhood of toil and hardship meant. He became the idol of the poor not less than of the rich, because he could sympathize in their privations, and sympathy is usually born of suffering. Perchance we ought to welcome bitter experiences, for he alone has power who has great sympathy.

After some years of widowhood, Mrs. Clay married Captain Henry Watkins of Richmond, Virginia, and, though she bore him seven children, he did not forget to be a father to the children of her former marriage. When Henry was fourteen, Captain Watkins placed him in Richard Denny's store in Richmond. For a year the boy sold groceries and dry-goods in the retail store, reading in every moment of leisure. His step-father thought rightly that a boy who was so eager to read should have better advantages, and therefore applied to his friend, Colonel Tinsley, for a position in the office of the Clerk of the High Court of Chancery, the clerk being the brother of the colonel.

"There is no vacancy," said the clerk.

"Never mind," said the colonel, "you must take him;" and so he did.

The glad mother cut and made for Henry an ill-fitting suit of gray "figinny" (Virginia) cloth, cotton and silk mixed, and starched his linen to a painful stiffness. When he appeared in the clerk's office he was tall and awkward, and the occupants at the desks could scarcely restrain their mirth at the appearance of the new-comer. Henry was put to the task of copying. The clerks wisely remained quiet, and soon found that the boy was proud, ambitious, quick, willing to work, and superior to themselves in common-sense and the use of language.

Every night when they went in quest of amusement young Clay went home to read. It could not have been mere chance which attracted to the studious, bright boy the attention of George Wythe, the Chancellor of the High Court of Chancery. He was a noted and noble man, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, for ten years teacher of jurisprudence at William and Mary's College, a man so liberal in his views in the days of slavery that he emancipated all his slaves and made provision for their maintenance; the same great man in whose office Thomas Jefferson gained inspiration in his youth.

George Wythe selected Clay for his amanuensis in writing out the decisions of the courts. He soon became greatly attached to the boy of fifteen, directed his reading, first in grammatical studies, and then in legal and historical lines. He read Homer, Plutarch's Lives, and similar great works. The conversation of such a man as Mr. Wythe was to Clay what that of Christopher Gore was to Daniel Webster, or that of Judge Story to Charles Sumner. Generally men who have become great have allied themselves to great men or great principles early in life. When Clay had been four years with the chancellor he naturally decided to become a lawyer. Poverty did not deter him; hard work did not deter him. Those who fear to labor must not take a step on the road to fame.

Clay entered the office of Attorney-General Robert Brooke, a man prominent and able. Here he studied hard for a year, and was admitted to the bar, having gained much legal knowledge in the previous four years. During this year he mingled with the best society of Richmond, his own intellectual ability, courteous manners, and good cheer making him welcome, not less than the well known friendship of Chancellor Wythe for him. Clay organized a debating society, and the "mill-boy of the Slashes" quite astonished, not only the members but the public as well, by his unusual powers of oratory.

The esteem of Richmond society did not bring money quickly enough to the enterprising young man. His parents had removed to Kentucky, and he decided to go there also, "and grow up with the country." He was now twenty-one, poor, not as thoroughly educated as he could have wished, but determined to succeed, and when one has this determination the battle is half won. That he regretted his lack of early opportunities, a speech made on the floor of Congress years afterward plainly showed. In reply to Hon. John Randolph he said, "The gentleman from Virginia was pleased to say that in one point, at least, he coincided with me in an humble estimate of my grammatical and philological acquisitions. I know my deficiencies. I was born to no proud patrimonial estate. I inherited only infancy, ignorance, and indigence. I feel my defects. But, so far as my situation in early life is concerned, I may, without presumption, say it was more my misfortune than my fault. But, however I regret my want of ability to furnish the gentleman with a better specimen of powers of verbal criticism, I will venture to say it is not greater than the disappointment of this committee as to the strength of his argument."

When Clay arrived in Lexington, Kentucky, he found not the polished society of Richmond, but a genial, warm-hearted, high-spirited race of men and women, who cordially welcomed the young lawyer with his sympathetic manner and distinguished air, the result of an inborn sense of leadership. Soon after he began to practise law, he joined a debating society, and, with his usual good-sense, did not take an active part until he became acquainted with the members.

One evening, after a subject had been long debated, and the vote was to be taken, Clay, feeling that the matter was not exhausted, rose to speak. At first he was embarrassed, and began, "Gentlemen of the jury!" The audience laughed. Roused to self-control by this mistake, his words came fast and eloquent, till the people held their breath in amazement. From that day, Lexington knew that a young man of brilliancy and power had come within her borders.

Nearly fifty years later, he said in the same city, when he retired from public life, "In looking back upon my origin and progress through life, I have great reason to be thankful. My father died in 1781, leaving me an infant of too tender years to retain any recollection of his smiles or endearments. My surviving parent removed to this State in 1792, leaving me, a boy fifteen years of age, in the office of the High Court of Chancery, in the city of Richmond, without guardian, without pecuniary means of support, to steer my course as I might or could. A neglected education was improved by my own irregular exertions, without the benefit of systematic instruction. I studied law principally in the office of a lamented friend, the late Governor Brooke, then attorney-general of Virginia, and also under the auspices of the venerable and lamented Chancellor Wythe, for whom I had acted as amanuensis. I obtained a license to practise the profession from the judges of the court of appeals of Virginia, and established myself in Lexington in 1797, without patrons, without the favor or countenance of the great or opulent, without the means of paying my weekly board, and in the midst of a bar uncommonly distinguished by eminent members. I remember how comfortable I thought I should be if I could make one hundred pounds, Virginia money, per year, and with what delight I received the first fifteen-shilling fee. My hopes were more than realized. I immediately rushed into a successful and lucrative practice."

His cases at first were largely criminal. His first marked case was that of a woman who, in a moment of passion, shot her sister-in-law. Clay could not bear to see a woman hanged, and she heretofore the respected wife of a respected man. He pleaded "temporary delirium," and saved her life.

It is said that no murderer ever suffered the extreme penalty of the law who was defended by Henry Clay. He saved the life of one Willis, accused of an atrocious murder. Meeting the man later, he said, "Ah! Willis, poor fellow, I fear I have saved too many like you who ought to be hanged." When Clay was public prosecutor, he took up the case of a slave, much valued for his intelligence and honor, who, in the absence of his owner, had been unmercifully treated by an overseer. In self-defence the slave killed the overseer with an axe. Clay argued that had the deed been done by a free man it would have been man-slaughter, but by a slave, who should have submitted, it was murder. The colored man was hanged, meeting death heroically. Clay was so overcome by the painful result of his own unfortunate reasoning that he at once resigned his position, and never ceased to be sorry for his connection with the affair.

Sometimes the ending of a case was ludicrous as well as pathetic. Two Germans, father and son, were indicted for murder in the first degree. The mother and wife were present, and, of course, intensely interested. When Clay obtained the acquittal of the accused, the old lady rushed through the crowd, flung her arms around the neck of the stylish young attorney, and clung to him so persistently that it was difficult for him to free himself!

He soon began to engage more exclusively in civil suits, especially those growing out of the land laws of Virginia and Kentucky, and quickly acquired a leading position at the bar. He had already married, at twenty-two, Lucretia Hart, eighteen years old, the daughter of Colonel Thomas Hart, a well known and respected citizen of Lexington. She was a woman of practical common-sense, devoted to him, and a tender mother to their eleven children, six daughters and five sons.

As soon as Mr. Clay had earned sufficient money he bought Ashland, an estate of six hundred acres, a mile and a half south-east from Lexington court-house. A spacious brick mansion, with flower gardens and groves, made it in time one of the most attractive places in the South. Here, later, Clay entertained Lafayette, Webster, Monroe, and other famous men from Europe and America.

Mr. Clay began his political life when but twenty-two. Kentucky, in 1799, in revising her constitution, considered a project for the gradual abolition of slavery in the State. Clay was an ardent advocate of the measure. He wrote in favor of it in the press, and spoke earnestly in its behalf in public. He, however, received more censure than praise for the position he took, but his conduct was in keeping with his declaration years later: "I had rather be right than be President."

All his life he rejoiced that he had thus early favored the abolition of slavery. He said, thirty years later, "Among the acts of my life which I look back to with most satisfaction is that of my having coÖperated with other zealous and intelligent friends to procure the establishment of that system in this State. We were overpowered by numbers, but submitted to the decision of the majority with that grace which the minority in a republic should ever yield to that decision. I have, nevertheless, never ceased, and shall never cease, to regret a decision the effects of which have been to place us in the rear of our neighbors, who are exempt from slavery, in the state of agriculture, the progress of manufactures, the advance of improvements, and the general progress of society."

From this time Clay spoke on all important political questions. Once, when he and George Nicholas had spoken against the alien and sedition laws of the Federalists, so pleased were the Kentuckians that both speakers were placed in a carriage and drawn through the streets, the people shouting applause. Thus foolishly are persons—usually young men—willing to be considered horses through their excitement!When Clay was twenty-six, so effective had been his eloquence that he was elected to the State Legislature. Who would have prophesied this when he carried meal to Mrs. Darricott's mill! Reading evenings, when other boys roamed the streets, had been an important element in this success; friendship with those older and stronger than himself had given maturity of thought and plan.

When he was thirty he was chosen to the United States Senate, to fill the unexpired term of another. At once, despite his youth, he took an active part in debate, was placed on important committees, and advocated "internal improvements," as he did all the rest of his life, desiring always that America become great and powerful. He was happy in this first experience at the national capital. He wrote home to his wife's father: "My reception in this place has been equal, nay, superior to my expectations. I have experienced the civility and attention of all I was desirous of obtaining. Those who are disposed to flatter me say that I have acquitted myself with great credit in several debates in the Senate. But, after all I have seen, Kentucky is still my favorite country. There amidst my dear family I shall find happiness in a degree to be met with nowhere else."

As soon as Clay was home again, Kentucky sent him to her State Legislature, where he was elected speaker. Already the conflicts between England and France under Napoleon had seriously affected our commerce by the unjust decrees of both nations. Mr. Clay strongly denounced the Orders in Council of the British, and praised Jefferson for the embargo. He urged, also, partly as a retaliatory measure, and partly as a measure of self-protection, that the members of the Legislature wear only such clothes as were made by our own manufacturers. Humphrey Marshall, a strong Federalist, and a man of great ability, denounced this resolution as the work of a demagogue. The result was a duel, in which, after Clay and Marshall were both slightly wounded, the seconds prevented further bloodshed. Once before this Clay had accepted a challenge, and the duel was prevented only by the interference of friends. Had death resulted at either time, America would have missed from her record one of the brightest and fairest names in her history.

When Clay was thirty-three he was again sent to the Senate of the United States, to fill an unexpired term of two years. At the end of that time Kentucky was too proud of him to allow his returning to private life. He was therefore elected to the House of Representatives, and took his seat November 4, 1811. He was at once chosen speaker, an honor conferred for seven terms, fourteen years.

"Henry Clay stands," says Carl Schurz, "in the traditions of the House of Representatives as the greatest of its speakers. His perfect mastery of parliamentary law, his quickness of decision in applying it, his unfailing presence of mind and power of command in moments of excitement and confusion, the courteous dignity of his bearing, are remembered as unequalled by any one of those who had preceded or who have followed him."

Here in the excitement of debate he was happy. He could speak at will against the British, who had seized more than nine hundred American ships, and the French more than five hundred and fifty. When several thousand Americans had been impressed as British seamen, the hot blood of the Kentuckian demanded war. He said in Congress, "We are called upon to submit to debasement, dishonor, and disgrace; to bow the neck to royal insolence, as a course of preparation for manly resistance to Gallic invasion! What nation, what individual was ever taught in the schools of ignominious submission these patriotic lessons of freedom and independence?... An honorable peace is attainable only by an efficient war. My plan would be to call out the ample resources of the country, give them a judicious direction, prosecute the war with the utmost vigor, strike wherever we can reach the enemy, at sea or on land, and negotiate the terms of a peace at Quebec or at Halifax. We are told that England is a proud and lofty nation, which, disdaining to wait for danger, meets it half way. Haughty as she is, we once triumphed over her, and, if we do not listen to the counsels of timidity and despair, we shall again prevail. In such a cause, with the aid of Providence, we must come out crowned with success; but if we fail, let us fail like men, lash ourselves to our gallant tars, and expire together in one common struggle, fighting for FREE TRADE AND SEAMEN'S RIGHTS."

The War of 1812 came, even though New England strongly opposed it. The country was poorly prepared for a great contest by land or by sea, but Clay's enthusiasm seemed equal to a dozen armies. He cheered every regiment by his hope and his patriotism. When defeats came at Detroit and in Canada, Josiah Quincy of Massachusetts, leader of the Federalists, said, "Those must be very young politicians, their pin-feathers not yet grown, and, however they may flutter on this floor, they are not fledged for any high or distant flight, who think that threats and appealing to fear are the ways of producing any disposition to negotiate in Great Britain, or in any other nation which understands what it owes to its own safety and honor."

Clay answered in a two-days speech that was never forgotten. He scourged the Federalists with stinging words: "Sir, gentlemen appear to me to forget that they stand on American soil; that they are not in the British House of Commons, but in the chamber of the House of Representatives of the United States; that we have nothing to do with the affairs of Europe, the partition of territory and sovereignty there, except so far as these things affect the interests of our own country. Gentlemen transform themselves into the Burkes, Chathams, and Pitts of another country, and forgetting, from honest zeal, the interests of America, engage with European sensibility in the discussion of European interests.... I have no fears of French or English subjugation. If we are united we are too powerful for the mightiest nation in Europe, or all Europe combined. If we are separated and torn asunder, we shall become an easy prey to the weakest of them. In the latter dreadful contingency, our country will not be worth preserving.

"The war was declared because Great Britain arrogated to herself the pretension of regulating our foreign trade, under the delusive name of retaliatory orders in council—a pretension by which she undertook to proclaim to American enterprise, 'Thus far shalt thou go, and no further'—orders which she refused to revoke, after the alleged cause of their enactment had ceased; because she persisted in the practice of impressing American seamen; because she had instigated the Indians to commit hostilities against us; and because she refused indemnity for her past injuries upon our commerce. I throw out of the question other wrongs. The war in fact was announced on our part to meet the war which she was waging on her part."

The speech electrified the country. The army was increased, the nation encouraged, and the war carried to a successful issue. Such a power had Clay become that Madison talked of making him commander-in-chief of the army, but Gallatin dissuaded him, saying, "What shall we do without Clay in Congress?"

When the war was nearing its end—before Jackson had fought his famous battle at New Orleans—and a treaty of peace was to be effected, the President appointed five commissioners to confer with the British government: John Quincy Adams, Clay, Bayard, Jonathan Russell, Minister to Sweden, and Albert Gallatin.

They reached Ghent, in the Netherlands, July 6, 1814, a company of earnest men, not always in accord, but desirous of accomplishing the most possible for America. Adams was able, courageous, irritable, and sometimes domineering; Clay, impetuous, spirited, genial, making friends of the British commissioners as they played at whist—he never allowed cards to come into his home at Ashland; Gallatin, discreet, a peace-maker, and dignified counsellor.

For five months the commissioners argued, waited to see if their respective countries would accede to the terms proposed, and finally settled an honorable peace. Then Clay, Adams, and Gallatin spent three months in London negotiating a treaty of commerce. Clay had meantime heard of the battle of New Orleans, and said, "Now I can go to England without mortification." In Paris he met Madame de StaËl. "I have been in England," said she, "and have been battling for your cause there. They were so much enraged against you that at one time they thought seriously of sending the Duke of Wellington to lead their armies against you."

"I am very sorry," replied Clay, "that they did not send the duke."

"And why?" she asked.

"Because if he had beaten us, we should have been in the condition of Europe, without disgrace. But if we had been so fortunate as to defeat him, we should have greatly added to the renown of our arms."

When Clay returned to America, he was welcomed in New York and Lexington with public dinners. That the war had produced good results was well stated in his Lexington address. "Abroad, our character, which, at the time of its declaration, was in the lowest state of degradation, is raised to the highest point of elevation. It is impossible for any American to visit Europe without being sensible of this agreeable change in the personal attentions which he receives, in the praises which are bestowed on our past exertions, and the predictions which are made as to our future prospects. At home, a government, which, at its formation, was apprehended by its best friends, and pronounced by its enemies to be incapable of standing the shock, is found to answer all the purposes of its institution."

Clay was now famous; commanding in presence, with a winsome rather than handsome face, exuberant in spirits, generous by nature, polite to the poorest, self-possessed, with a voice unsurpassed, if ever equalled, for its musical tone; a man who made friends everywhere and among all classes, and never lost them; who was always a gentleman, because always kind at heart. Manner, which Emerson calls the "finest of the fine arts," gave Clay the "mastery of palace and fortune" wherever he went. That voice and hand-grasp, that remembrance of a face and a name, won him countless admirers.

President Madison offered him the mission to Russia, which he declined, as also a place in the Cabinet, as Secretary of War, preferring to speak on all those matters which helped to build up America. On the question of the United States Bank he made a strong speech against its constitutionality, which Andrew Jackson said later was his most convincing authority when he destroyed the bank. Clay's views changed in after years, and made him at bitter enmity with Andrew Jackson and John Tyler, both of whom vigorously opposed a bank, with its vast capital and consequent power in politics.

Clay's desire for the rapid development of America led him to become a "protectionist," and the leader of the so-called "American system," as opposed to Free Trade or the Foreign System. He believed that only as we encourage our own manufactures can we become a powerful nation, paying high wages, shutting out the products of the cheap labor of Europe, increasing our home market, and becoming independent of the foreign market. Clay's speeches were read the country over, and won him thousands of followers.

Like others in public life, he now and then gave offence to his constituents. He had voted for a bill to increase the pay of members of Congress from six dollars a day to a salary of fifteen hundred dollars a year. To the farmers of Kentucky this amount seemed far too great. He one day met an old hunter who had always voted for him, but was now determined to vote against a man so extravagant in his ideas!

"My friend," said Clay, "have you a good rifle?"

"Yes."

"Did it ever flash?"

"Yes; but only once."

"What did you do with the rifle when it flashed?—throw it away?"

"No; I picked the flint, tried again, and brought down the game."

"Have I ever flashed, except upon the compensation bill?"

"No."

"Well, will you throw me away?"

"No, Mr. Clay; I will pick the flint and try you again."

Mr. Clay was returned to Congress, and voted for the repeal of the fifteen hundred dollar salary.

The subject which was to surpass all other subjects in interest, and well-nigh destroy the Union, was coming into prominence—slavery. Henry Clay, from a boy, when George Wythe, the Virginia chancellor, freed his slaves, had looked upon human bondage as a curse. He used to say, "If I could be instrumental in eradicating this deepest stain from the character of our country, and removing all cause of reproach on account of it, by foreign nations; if I could only be instrumental in ridding of this foul blot that revered State that gave me birth, or that not less beloved State which kindly adopted me as her son, I would not exchange the proud satisfaction which I should enjoy for the honor of all the triumphs ever decreed to the most successful conqueror.

"When we consider the cruelty of the origin of negro slavery, its nature, the character of the free institutions of the whites, and the irresistible progress of public opinion throughout America, as well as in Europe, it is impossible not to anticipate frequent insurrections among the blacks in the United States; they are rational beings like ourselves, capable of feeling, of reflection, and of judging of what naturally belongs to them as a portion of the human race. By the very condition of the relation which subsists between us, we are enemies of each other. They know well the wrongs which their ancestors suffered at the hands of our ancestors, and the wrongs which they believe they continue to endure, although they may be unable to avenge them. They are kept in subjection only by the superior intelligence and superior power of the predominant race."

At the North, anti-slavery sentiments had intensified; at the South, where slavery was at first regarded as an evil, the consequent ease and wealth from slave labor had changed public opinion, and had made the people jealous of northern discussion. Through the invention of the cotton-gin, by Eli Whitney, the value of cotton exports had quadrupled in twenty years, and the value of slaves had trebled. Comparatively good feeling was maintained by the two sections of the country as long as for every slave State admitted to the Union a free State was also admitted.

In 1818, the people of Missouri desired to be admitted to the Union. Mr. Tallmadge of New York proposed that the further introduction of slavery should be prohibited, and that all children born within the said State should be free at the age of twenty-five years. The discussion grew strong and bitter. Two years later the inhabitants of the State proceeded to adopt a constitution which forbade free negroes from coming into the territory or settling in it. The discussion grew more bitter still. Threats of disunion and civil war were heard. Jefferson wrote from his Monticello home, "The Missouri question is the most portentous one that ever threatened the Union. In the gloomiest moments of the Revolutionary War I never had any apprehension equal to that I feel from this source."A senator from Illinois, Mr. Thomas, proposed that no restriction as to slavery be imposed upon Missouri, but that in all the rest of the territory ceded by France to the United States, north of 36° 30', this being the southern boundary of Missouri, there should be no slavery. Then Mr. Clay, with his intense love for the Union, bent all his energies to effect this compromise suggested by Thomas. He spoke earnestly in its behalf, and went from member to member, persuading and beseeching with all his genius and winsomeness. When Clay had effected the passage of the bill, the "great pacificator" became more beloved than ever. He had saved the Union, and now was talked of as the successor to President Monroe.

Clay was now forty-seven, the polished orator, the consummate leader, one of the great trio whom all visitors to Washington wished to look upon: Clay, Webster, and Calhoun. Kentucky was earnest in her support of Clay as President.

When the time came for voting, six candidates were before the people: John Quincy Adams, Jackson, Clay, Calhoun, Clinton of New York, and Crawford of Georgia. Hon. Thomas H. Benton of Missouri was an ardent supporter of Clay, and travelled over several States speaking in his behalf.

Clay was anxious for the position, but would do nothing unworthy to obtain it. He wrote to a friend, "On one resolution, my friends may rest assured, I will firmly rely, and that is, to participate in no intrigue, to enter into no arrangements, to make no promises or pledges; but that, whether I am elected or not, I will have nothing to reproach myself with. If elected, I will go into the office with a pure conscience, to promote with my utmost exertions the common good of our country, and free to select the most able and faithful public servants. If not elected, acquiescing most cheerfully in the better selection which will thus have been made, I will at least have the satisfaction of preserving my honor unsullied and my heart uncorrupted."

After the vote had been taken, as no candidate received a clear majority, the election necessarily went to the House of Representatives. Though Jackson received the most electoral votes, Clay, not friendly to him, used his influence for Adams and helped obtain his election. Clay was, of course, bitterly censured by the followers of Jackson, and when Adams made him Secretary of State the cry of "bargain and sale" was heard throughout the country. Though both Adams and Clay denied any promise between them, the Jackson men believed, or professed to believe it, and helped in later years to spoil his presidential success. Adams said, "As to my motives for tendering him the Department of State when I did, let the man who questions them come forward. Let him look around among the statesmen and legislators of the nation and of that day. Let him then select and name the man whom, by his preËminent talents, by his splendid services, by his ardent patriotism, by his all-embracing public spirit, by his fervid eloquence in behalf of the rights and liberties of mankind, by his long experience in the affairs of the Union, foreign and domestic, a President of the United States, intent only upon the honor and welfare of his country, ought to have preferred to Henry Clay."

Returning to Kentucky before taking the position of Secretary of State, his journey thither was one constant ovation. Public dinners were given him in Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. In the midst of this prosperity, sorrow laid her hand heavily upon the great man's heart. His children were his idols. They obeyed him because they loved him and were proud of him. Lucretia, named for her mother, a delicate and much beloved daughter, died at fourteen. Eliza, a most attractive girl, with her father's magnetic manners, died on their journey to Washington. A few days after her death, another daughter, Susan Hart, then Mrs. Durolde of New Orleans, died, at the age of twenty.

There was work to be done for the country, and Mr. Clay tried to put away his sorrow that he might do his duty. As Secretary of State he helped to negotiate treaties with Prussia, Denmark, Austria, Russia, and other nations. The opposition to Adams and Clay became intense. The Jackson party felt itself defrauded. John Randolph of Virginia was an outspoken enemy, closing a scathing speech with the words, "by the coalition of Blifil and Black George—by the combination, unheard of till then, of the Puritan with the blackleg."

Clay was indignant, and sent Randolph a challenge, which he accepted. On the night before the duel, Randolph told a friend that he had determined not to return Clay's fire. "Nothing," he said, "shall induce me to harm a hair of his head. I will not make his wife a widow and his children orphans. Their tears would be shed over his grave; but when the sod of Virginia rests on my bosom, there is not in this wide world one individual to pay this tribute upon mine."

The two men met on the banks of the Potomac, near sunset. Clay fired and missed his adversary, while Randolph discharged his pistol in the air. As soon as Clay perceived this he came forward and exclaimed, "I trust in God, my dear sir, that you are unhurt; after what has occurred, I would not have harmed you for a thousand worlds." Years afterward, a short time before Randolph's death, as he was on his way to Philadelphia, he stopped in Washington, and was carried into the Senate chamber during its all-night session. Clay was speaking. "Hold me up," he said to his attendants; "I have come to hear that voice."

At the presidential election of 1828 Andrew Jackson was the successful candidate, and Clay retired to his Ashland farm, where he took especial delight in his fine horses, cattle, and sheep. But he was soon returned to the Senate by his devoted State.

The tariff question was now absorbing the public mind. The South, under Calhoun's leadership, had been opposed to protection, which they believed aided northern manufacturers at the expense of southern agriculturists. When the tariff bill of 1832 was passed, and South Carolina talked of nullification and secession, Clay said: "The great principle which lies at the foundation of all free government is that the majority must govern, from which there can be no appeal but the sword. That majority ought to govern wisely, equitably, moderately, and constitutionally; but govern it must, subject only to that terrible appeal. If ever one or several States, being a minority, can, by menacing a dissolution of the Union, succeed in forcing an abandonment of great measures deemed essential to the interests and prosperity of the whole, the Union from that moment is practically gone. It may linger on in form and name, but its vital spirit has fled forever."

South Carolina passed her nullification ordinance, and prepared to resist the collection of revenues at Charleston. Then Jackson, with his undaunted courage and indomitable will, ordered a body of troops to South Carolina, and threatened to hang Calhoun and his nullifiers as "high as Haman."

Then the "great pacificator" came forward to heal the wounds between North and South, and preserve the Union. He prepared his "Compromise Bill," which provided for a gradual reduction of duties till the year 1842, when twenty per cent. at a home valuation should become the rate on dutiable goods. He spent much time and thought on this bill, visiting the great manufacturers of the country, and urging them to accede for the sake of peace.

After this bill passed he was more esteemed than ever. He visited by request the Northern and Eastern States, and spoke to great gatherings of people in nearly all the large cities. A platform having been erected on the heights of Bunker Hill, Edward Everett addressed him in the presence of an immense audience, and Clay responded with his usual eloquence. The young men of Boston presented him a pair of silver pitchers, weighing one hundred and fifty ounces. The young men of Troy, New York, gave him a superbly mounted rifle. Other cities made him expensive presents.

After the first four years of Jackson's "reign," as it was called by those who deprecated the unusual power held by the executive, Clay was again nominated for the presidency by the Whigs, and again defeated, Jackson receiving two hundred and nineteen electoral votes and Clay only forty-nine.

Again in 1840, after the four years' term of Van Buren, the protÉgÉ of Jackson, all eyes turned toward Clay as the coming President. But already he had been twice the nominee and been twice defeated. The anti-slavery element had become a serious factor in party plans. The secretary of the American Anti-Slavery Society in New York wrote Clay: "I should consider the election of a slave-holder to the presidency a great calamity to the country." The slave-holders meantime denounced Clay as an abolitionist.

When the Whig national convention met, December 4, 1839, they chose, not Clay, but General William Henry Harrison, a good man and a successful soldier, but a very different man from the popular Clay. The statesman was sorely disappointed. "I am," he said, "the most unfortunate man in the history of parties: always run by my friends when sure to be defeated, and now betrayed for a nomination when I or any one would be sure of an election."

His friends throughout the country were grieved and indignant. But Clay supported with all his power the true-hearted old soldier, who, when elected, offered him the first place in the Cabinet, which was declined. Harrison died a month after his inauguration, and John Tyler became President. Clay and Tyler differed constantly, till Clay determined to retire from the Senate. He said: "I want rest, and my private affairs want attention. Nevertheless, I would make any personal sacrifice if, by remaining here, I could do any good; but my belief is I can effect nothing, and perhaps my absence may remove an obstacle to something being done by others." When it became known that Clay would make a farewell address, the Senate chamber was crowded.

He spoke of his long career of public service, and the memorable scenes they had witnessed together. His feelings nearly overcame him as he said: "I emigrated from Virginia to the State of Kentucky now nearly forty-five years ago; I went as an orphan boy who had not yet attained the age of majority, who had never recognized a father's smile nor felt his warm caresses, poor, penniless, without the favor of the great, with an imperfect and neglected education, hardly sufficient for the ordinary business and common pursuits of life; but scarce had I set foot upon her generous soil when I was embraced with parental fondness, caressed as though I had been a favorite child, and patronized with liberal and unbounded munificence. From that period the highest honors of the State have been freely bestowed upon me; and when, in the darkest hour of calumny and detraction, I seemed to be assailed by all the rest of the world, she interposed her broad and impenetrable shield, repelled the poisoned shafts that were aimed for my destruction, and vindicated my good name from every malignant and unfounded aspersion. I return with indescribable pleasure to linger a while longer, and mingle with the warm-hearted and whole-souled people of that State; and, when the last scene shall forever close upon me, I hope that my earthly remains will be laid under her green sod with those of her gallant and patriotic sons."When Clay reached Lexington he was welcomed like a prince. A great public feast was given in his honor. In his speech to the people he said: "I have been accused of ambition, often accused of ambition. If to have served my country during a long series of years with fervent zeal and unshaken fidelity, in seasons of peace and war, at home and abroad, in the legislative halls and in an executive department; if to have labored most sedulously to avert the embarrassment and distress which now overspread this Union, and, when they came, to have exerted myself anxiously, at the extra session and at this, to devise healing remedies; if to have desired to introduce economy and reform in the general administration, curtail enormous executive power, and amply provide, at the same time, for the wants of the government and the wants of the people, by a tariff which would give it revenue and then protection; if to have earnestly sought to establish the bright but too rare example of a party in power faithful to its promises and pledges made when out of power,—if these services, exertions, and endeavors justify the accusation of ambition, I must plead guilty to the charge.

"I have wished the good opinion of the world; but I defy the most malignant of my enemies to show that I have attempted to gain it by any low or grovelling acts, by any mean or unworthy sacrifices, by the violation of any of the obligations of honor, or by a breach of any of the duties which I owed to my country."In 1844, at the Whig convention at Baltimore, May 1, Clay was unanimously nominated for the presidency, with a great shout that shook the building. It seemed as though his hour of triumph had come at last. James K. Polk was the Democratic nominee. Another party now appeared, the "Liberty Party," with James G. Birney of Kentucky as its candidate. He was an able lawyer, and a man who had liberated his slaves through principle. The contest was one of the most acrimonious in our national history. Texas was clamoring for admission to the Union, with the Mexican War sure to result. The Whigs feared to commit themselves on the slavery question. When the votes were counted Birney had received over sixty-two thousand, enough to throw the election into the hands of the Democrats. The abolitionists had done what they were willing to do,—bury the Whig party, that from its grave might arise another party, which should fearlessly grapple with slavery, and they accomplished their desire, when, in 1860, the Republican party made Abraham Lincoln President.

The disappointment to Mr. Clay was extreme, but he bore it bravely. His friends all over the country seemed broken-hearted. Letters of sorrow poured into Ashland. "I write," said one, "with an aching heart, and ache it must. God Almighty save us! Although our hearts are broken and bleeding, and our bright hopes are crushed, we feel proud of our candidate. God bless you! Your countrymen do bless you. All know how to appreciate the man who has stood in the first rank of American patriots. Though unknown to you, you are by no means a stranger to me." Another wrote: "I have buried a revolutionary father, who poured out his blood for his country; I have followed a mother, brothers, sisters, and children to the grave; and, although I hope I have felt, under all these afflictions, as a son, a brother, and a father should feel, yet nothing has so crushed me to the earth, and depressed my spirits, as the result of our late political contest."

"Permit me, a stranger, to address you. From my boyhood I have loved no other American statesman so much except Washington. I write from the overflowing of my heart. I admire and love you more than ever. If I may never have the happiness of seeing you on earth, may I meet you in heaven."

A lady wrote, "I had indulged the most joyous anticipations in view of that political campaign which has now been so ingloriously ended. I considered that the nation could never feel satisfied until it had cancelled, in some degree, the onerous obligations so long due to its faithful and distinguished son."

Another lady wrote, "My mind is a perfect chaos when I dwell upon the events which have occurred within the last few weeks. My heart refused to credit the sad reality. Had I the eloquence of all living tongues, I could not shadow forth the deep, deep sorrow that has thrilled my inmost soul. The bitterest tears have flowed like rain-drops from my eyes. Never, till now, could I believe that truth and justice would not prevail."

A lady in Maryland, ninety-three years old, wrought for Clay a counterpane of almost numberless pieces. New York friends sent a silver vase three feet high. The ladies of Tennessee sent a costly vase. Tokens of affection came from all directions. But the grief was so great that in some towns business was almost suspended, while the people talked "of the late blow that has fallen upon our country."

Other troubles were pressing upon Mr. Clay's heart. By heavy expenditures and losses through his sons, his home had become involved to the extent of fifty thousand dollars. The mortgage was to be foreclosed, and Henry Clay would be penniless. A number of friends had learned these facts, and sent him the cancelled obligation. He was overcome by this proof of affection, and exclaimed, "Had ever any man such friends or enemies as Henry Clay!"

Two years later, his favorite son, Colonel Henry Clay, was killed under General Taylor, in the battle of Buena Vista. "My life has been full of domestic affliction," said the father, "but this last is the severest among them." A few years before, while in Washington, a brilliant and lovely married daughter had died. When Mr. Clay opened the letter and read the sad news, he fainted, and remained in his room for days.

Mr. Clay was now seventy years old. Chastened by sorrow, he determined to unite with the Episcopal Church. Says one who was present in the little parlor at Ashland, "When the minister entered the room on this deeply solemn and interesting occasion, the small assembly, consisting of the immediate family, a few family connections, and the clergyman's wife, rose up. In the middle of the room stood a large centre-table, on which was placed, filled with water, the magnificent cut-glass vase presented to Mr. Clay by some gentlemen of Pittsburg. On one side of the room hung the large picture of the family of Washington, himself an Episcopalian by birth, by education, and a devout communicant of the church; and immediately opposite, on a side-table, stood the bust of the lamented Harrison, with a chaplet of withered flowers hung upon his head, who was to have been confirmed in the church the Sabbath after he died,—fit witnesses of such a scene. Around the room were suspended a number of family pictures, and among them the portrait of a beloved daughter, who died some years ago, in the triumphs of that faith which her noble father was now about to embrace; and the picture of the late lost son, who fell at the battle of Buena Vista. Could these silent lookers-on at the scene about transpiring have spoken from the marble and the canvas, they would heartily have approved the act which dedicated the great man to God."

In 1848, Clay was again talked of for the presidency, but the party managers considered General Taylor, of the Mexican War, a more available candidate, and he was nominated and elected. Clay was again unanimously chosen to the Senate for six years from March 4, 1849. Seven years before, he had said farewell. Now, at seventy-two, he was again to debate great questions, and once more save the nation from disruption and civil war,—for a time; he hoped, for all time.

The territory obtained from Mexico became a matter of contention as to whether it should be slave territory or not. California asked to be admitted to the Union without slavery. The North favored this, while the South insisted that the Missouri Compromise of 1820, which forbade slavery north of 36° 30', if continued to the Pacific Ocean, would entitle them to California. Already the Wilmot Proviso, which sought to exclude slavery from all territory hereafter acquired by the United States, had aroused bitter feeling at the South. Clay, loving the Union beyond all things else, thought out his compromise of 1850. As he walked up to the Capitol to make his last great speech upon the measure, he said to a friend accompanying him, "Will you lend me your arm? I feel myself quite weak and exhausted this morning." The friend suggested that he postpone his speech."I consider our country in danger," replied Clay; "and if I can be the means in any measure of averting that danger, my health and life are of little consequence."

Great crowds had come from Philadelphia, New York, Boston, and elsewhere to hear the speech, which occupied two days. He said: "War and dissolution of the Union are identical; they are convertible terms; and such a war!... If the two portions of the confederacy should be involved in civil war, in which the effort on the one side would be to restrain the introduction of slavery into the new territories, and, on the other side, to force its introduction there, what a spectacle should we present to the contemplation of astonished mankind! An effort to propagate wrong! It would be a war in which we should have no sympathy, no good wishes, and in which all mankind would be against us, and in which our own history itself would be against us."

For six months the measure was debated. Clay came daily to the Senate chamber, so ill he could scarcely walk, but determined to save the Union. "Sir," said the grand old man, "I have heard something said about allegiance to the South. I know no South, no North, no East, no West, to which I owe any allegiance.... Let us go to the fountain of unadulterated patriotism, and, performing a solemn lustration, return divested of all selfish, sinister, and sordid impurities, and think alone of our God, our country, our conscience, and our glorious Union.... If Kentucky to-morrow unfurls the banner of resistance unjustly, I never will fight under that banner. I owe a paramount allegiance to the whole Union,—a subordinate one to my own State. When my State is right, when it has a cause for resistance, when tyranny and wrong and oppression insufferable arise, I will then share her fortunes; but if she summons me to the battlefield, or to support her in any cause which is unjust against the Union, never, never will I engage with her in such a cause!"

Finally the Compromise Bill of 1850 was substantially adopted. Among its several provisions were the admission of California as a free State, the abolition of the slave-trade in the District of Columbia, the organization of the Territories of New Mexico and Utah without conditions as to slavery, and increased stringency of the Fugitive Slave Laws.

Mr. Clay's hopes as to peace seemed for a few brief months to be realized. Then the North, exasperated by the provisions of the Fugitive Slave Bill, by which all good citizens were required to aid slave-holders in capturing their fugitive slaves, began to resist the bill by force. Clay could do no more. He must have foreseen the bitter end. Worn and tired, he went to Cuba to seek restoration of health.

In 1852 he was urged to allow his name to be used again for the presidency. It was too late now. He returned to Washington at the opening of the thirty-second Congress, but he entered the Senate chamber but once. During the spring, devoted friends and two of his sons watched by his bedside. He said: "As the world recedes from me, I feel my affections more than ever concentrated on my children and theirs."

The end came peacefully, June 29, 1852, when he was seventy-six. On July 1 the body lay in state in the Senate chamber, and was then carried to Lexington. In all the principal cities through which the cortege passed, Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Albany, Buffalo, Cleveland, Cincinnati, and others, thousands gathered to pay their homage to the illustrious dead, weeping, and often pressing their lips upon the shroud. On July 10, when the body, having reached Lexington, was ready for burial, nearly a hundred thousand persons were gathered. In front of the Ashland home, on a bier covered with flowers, stood the iron coffin. Senators and scholars, the rich and the poor, the white and the black, mourned together in their common sorrow. The great man had missed the presidency, but he had not missed the love of a whole nation. The "mill-boy of the Slashes," winsome, sincere, had, unaided, become the only and immortal Henry Clay.