At the next convention Mr. Clay was a very prominent candidate for the nomination, but Mr. Taylor's military career seemed to carry everything with it and he was nominated and elected. Had Mr. Clay been nominated at either this convention or in 1839 he would have been elected, but like Webster, the presidential honors were not essential to perpetuate his name. During the year 1849, as the people of Kentucky were about to remodel their constitution, Mr. Clay urged them to embody the principles of gradual emancipation, but they refused to do so.
He was again returned to the senate, and during this term brought out the compromise act of 1850. This measure, while recognizing no legal authority for the existence of slavery in the newly acquired territory of New Mexico, yet declared that in the establishment of territorial governments in such territory no restriction should be made relative to slavery. It also provided for the admission of California without restrictions on the subject of slavery, and opposed the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia. The bill carried with slight changes. Mr. Clay being very feeble was in his seat but few days of the session.
In 1852 he gradually sank until on June 29th, 1852, he died. In him intellect, reason, eloquence, and courage united to form a character fit to command. It was the remark of a distinguished senator that Mr. Clay's eloquence was absolutely intangible to delineation; that the most labored description could not embrace it, and that to be understood it must be seen and felt. He was an orator by nature, and by his indomitable assiduity he at once rose to prominence. His eagle eye burned with patriotic ardor or flashed indignation and defiance upon his foes or was suffused with commiseration or of pity; and it was because he felt that made others feel.
A gentleman, after hearing one of his magnificent efforts in the Senate, thus described him: "Every muscle of the orator's face was at work. His whole body seemed agitated, as if each part was instinct with a separate life; and his small white hand with its blue veins apparently distended almost to bursting, moved gracefully, but with all the energy of rapid and vehement gesture. The appearance of the speaker seemed that of a pure intellect wrought up to its mightiest energies and brightly shining through the thin and transparent will of flesh that invested it."
The particulars of the duel between Mr. Clay and Mr. Randolph maybe interesting to our readers. The eccentric descendant of Pocahontas appeared on the ground in a huge morning gown. This garment had such a vast circumference that the precise whereabouts of the lean senator was a matter of very vague conjecture. The parties exchanged shots and the ball of Mr. Clay hit the centre of the visible object, but the body of Mr. Randolph was untouched. Immediately after the exchange of shots Mr. Clay instantly approached Mr. Randolph, and with a gush of the deepest emotion said, "I trust in God, my dear sir, you are untouched; after what has occurred I would not have harmed you for a thousand worlds." The incident referred to above as 'occurring' was the fact of Mr. Randolph's firing in the air, thus publicly proclaiming his intention not to harm Mr. Clay at all events.
In person, Clay was tall and commanding, being six feet and one inch in stature, and was noted for the erect appearance he presented, while standing, walking, or talking. The most striking features of his countenance were a high forehead, a prominent nose, an uncommonly large mouth, and blue eyes which, though not particularly expressive when in repose, had an electrical appearance when kindled. His voice was one of extraordinary compass, melody and power. From the 'deep and dreadful sub-bass of the organ' to the most ærial warblings of its highest key, hardly a pipe or stop was wanting. Like all the magical voices, it had the faculty of imparting to the most familiar and commonplace expressions an inexpressible fascination. Probably no orator ever lived who, when speaking on a great occasion, was more completely absorbed with his theme. "I do not know how it is with others," he once said, "but, on such occasions, I seem to be unconscious of the external world. Wholly engrossed by the subject before me, I lose all sense of personal identity, of time, or of surrounding objects."
[Martin Van Buren.]
In the quiet little village of Kinderhook, New York, there was at the close of the Revolution, an indifferent tavern kept by a Dutchman named Van Buren. There his distinguished son Martin was born on the 5th day of December, 1782.
After attending the academy in his native village he, at the age of fourteen, began the study of law. His success was phenomenal from the beginning, and he has passed into history as an indefatigable student all through life. In 1808 he was made surrogate of his native county. In 1812 he was elected to the senate of his native State and in that body voted for electors pledged to support DeWitt Clinton for the presidency. He was attorney-general of the State from 1815 until 1819. Mr. Van Buren was a very able politician and it was through his influence that the celebrated 'Albany Regency,' whose influence ruled the State uninterruptedly for over twenty years, was set on foot.