Dreamed not of the rebound.’
Mr. Clay’s election to the senate of the United States was for one session only—the unexpired portion of general Adair’s term, who had resigned his seat. Immediately after his initiation into his new office, he engaged actively in the senatorial business. He found the senate discussing the merits of a bill providing for the erection of a bridge over the Potomac. Its erection was strongly desired by the inhabitants of Washington and Alexandria, and as strongly deprecated by those of Georgetown. Many efforts were made by both parties to secure his services in aid of their particular predilections, but nothing definite could be ascertained respecting his views in relation to the bill, and he refused to commit himself by pledging his support or opposition to it. He was not, though, indifferent to the proposed measure, but diligently employed himself in settling in his own mind the question of its constitutionality, and in deciding on its expediency. The result of his investigations was the conviction that it was sanctioned by the constitution, and a judicious measure of internal policy. He so regarded it in a speech which he made in its favor, by which he succeeded in producing a similar conviction in the minds of all the members who had not pledged themselves to oppose it, and thus secured its passage. This speech, although never reported, is represented as one of his happiest efforts, distinguished for satire and humor, aswell as gravity and sound logical argument, indeed, as embodying all the characteristics of a perfect specimen of eloquence. From the ground there taken, and the first time publicly, as to what he deemed true governmental policy, in relation to internal improvement, he has never in a single instance receded. With proud satisfaction may the friends of that system of which he has been justly styled ‘the Father,’ point to this unparalleled example of unwavering adherence and fidelity to principles since demonstrated to be the only permanent source of our national prosperity. In what an interesting attitude do we behold their originator and vindicator—a youth from Kentuckian wilds, rising up in the midst of grave senators and hoary-headed sages, and stretching out a timid, yet patriot-nerved arm, towards the shrine of Liberty. He plucks from her altar a burning brand and applies it to those inflammable materials which his genius and talents had collected around him. The flame that followed, though bright, he did not suppose would be seen and felt far beyond the precincts of her home. The utmost stretch of his fancy could not present to him the cheering vision, of the deepest recesses of the woody wilds he had left, illumined by its benign beams—that they were destined to play around the summits of the Alleghanies, glance across the broad prairie, blaze over the lake, and flash along the river, penetrating every department of industrial life, with their developing, moulding, and preserving power, until the broad breast of our vast republic should beam bright and beautiful as the ‘brow of night.’
An anecdote is related of Mr. Clay, aptly illustrating his ability to encounter opposition, in whatever manner presented. A senator from Connecticut had endeavored to inspire the younger members of the senate with a respect for him, nearly allied to awe, and to this end was accustomed to use towards them harsh and exceedingly haughty language, but especially to make an ostentatious display of his attainments and his supposed superior knowledge of the subject under discussion. Mr. Clay could ill brook his insolent looks and language, and haughty, overbearing manner, and took occasion in his speech to hit them off, which he did by quoting the laughable simile of Peter Pindar’s Magpie:
‘Thus have I seen a magpie in the street,
A chattering bird we often meet,
A bird for curiosity well known,
With head awry,
And cunning eye,
Peep knowingly into a marrow bone.’
It would be difficult to say which was the greater, the merriment which this sally caused, or the chagrin of the senator mentioned.