Famous Americans of Recent Times | Page 2

substantial present of
twenty-three barrels of salt. In his old age, when his fine estate, through
the misfortunes of his sons, was burdened with mortgages to the
amount of thirty thousand dollars, and other large debts weighed
heavily upon his soul, and he feared to be compelled to sell the home of
fifty years and seek a strange abode, a few old friends secretly raised
the needful sum, secretly paid the mortgages and discharged the debts,
and then caused the aged orator to be informed of what had been done,

but not of the names of the donors. "Could my life insure the success of
Henry Clay, I would freely lay it down this day," exclaimed an old
Rhode Island sea-captain on the morning of the Presidential election of
1844. Who has forgotten the passion of disappointment, the amazement
and despair, at the result of that day's fatal work? Fatal we thought it
then, little dreaming that, while it precipitated evil, it brought nearer the
day of deliverance.
Our readers do not need to be reminded that popularity the most intense
is not a proof of merit. The two most mischievous men this country has
ever produced were extremely popular,--one in a State, the other in
every State,--and both for long periods of time. There are certain men
and women and children who are natural heart-winners, and their gift
of winning hearts seems something apart from their general character.
We have known this sweet power over the affections of others to be
possessed by very worthy and by very barren natures. There are good
men who repel, and bad men who attract. We cannot, therefore, assent
to the opinion held by many, that popularity is an evidence of
shallowness or ill-desert. As there are pictures expressly designed to be
looked at from a distance by great numbers of people at once,--the
scenery of a theatre, for example,--so there are men who appear formed
by Nature to stand forth before multitudes, captivating every eye, and
gathering in great harvests of love with little effort. If, upon looking
closely at these pictures and these men, we find them less admirable
than they seemed at a distance, it is but fair to remember that they were
not meant to be looked at closely, and that "scenery" has as much right
to exist as a Dutch painting which bears the test of the microscope.
It must be confessed, however, that Henry Clay, who was for
twenty-eight years a candidate for the Presidency, cultivated his
popularity. Without ever being a hypocrite, he was habitually an actor;
but the part which he enacted was Henry Clay exaggerated. He was
naturally a most courteous man; but the consciousness of his position
made him more elaborately and universally courteous than any man
ever was from mere good-nature. A man on the stage must overdo his
part, in order not to seem to underdo it. There was a time when almost
every visitor to the city of Washington desired, above all things, to be
presented to three men there, Clay, Webster, and Calhoun, whom to
have seen was a distinction. When the country member brought

forward his agitated constituent on the floor of the Senate-chamber, and
introduced him to Daniel Webster, the Expounder was likely enough to
thrust a hand at him without so much as turning his head or
discontinuing his occupation, and the stranger shrunk away painfully
conscious of his insignificance. Calhoun, on the contrary, besides
receiving him with civility, would converse with him, if opportunity
favored, and treat him to a disquisition on the nature of government and
the "beauty" of nullification, striving to make a lasting impression on
his intellect. Clay would rise, extend his hand with that winning grace
of his, and instantly captivate him by his all-conquering courtesy. He
would call him by name, inquire respecting his health, the town whence
he came, how long he had been in Washington, and send him away
pleased with himself and enchanted with Henry Clay. And what was
his delight to receive a few weeks after, in his distant village, a copy of
the Kentuckian's last speech, bearing on the cover the frank of "H.
Clay"! It was almost enough to make a man think of "running for
Congress"! And, what was still more intoxicating, Mr. Clay, who had a
surprising memory, would be likely, on meeting this individual two
years after the introduction, to address him by name.
There was a gamy flavor, in those days, about Southern men, which
was very pleasing to the people of the North. Reason teaches us that the
barn-yard fowl is a more meritorious bird than the game-cock; but the
imagination does not assent to the proposition. Clay was at once
game-cock and domestic fowl. His gestures called to mind the