heat and anger;” how “Mr. Clay lost his temper, as he generally does whenever the right of the British to navigate the Mississippi is discussed;” how “Mr. Clay, who was determined to foresee no public misfortune in our affairs, bears them with less temper, now they have come, than any of us; he rails at commerce and the people of Massachusetts, and tells us what wonders the people of Kentucky would do if they should be attacked;” how “Mr. Clay is growing peevish and fractious,” — and, recollecting himself, Adams contritely adds: “I too must not forget to keep guard on my temper.” At the very last, just before separating, Adams and Clay quarreled about the custody of the papers, in language bordering upon the unparliamentary. But for the consummate tact and the authority of Gallatin the commission would not seldom have been in danger of breaking up in heated controversy.
The complaints about Clay's ill-tempered moods were undoubtedly well founded. Always somewhat inclined to be dictatorial and impatient of opposition, he had on this occasion especial reason for being ill at ease. He, more than any one else, had made the war. He had advised the invasion of Canada, and predicted an easy conquest. He had confidently spoken of dictating a peace at Quebec or Halifax. He had, after the withdrawal of the Orders in Council, insisted that the matter of impressment alone was sufficient reason for war. He had pledged the honor of the country for the
