graphy. But such a suggestion was not what Clay had expected from a “warm and zealous” friend. He had gone through the whole gamut of doubt and hope which enlivens the existence of a presidential candidate. He had been sanguine in the spring of 1838; he had been despondent in November, when the elections turned out unfavorably to the Whigs, and had spoken of promulgating that he would under no circumstances be a candidate. He felt again in 1839 that the current in his favor would break forth “with accumulated strength.” He was determined now to remain in the field, and Thurlow Weed could not shake that determination. Neither did Clay's courteous and kind bearing shake Thurlow Weed's determination that not Clay, but Harrison, should be nominated.
If the story told by Henry A. Wise in his “Seven Decades” may be believed, the Whig managers in New York opposed to Clay's nomination played a shrewd game, called “the triangular correspondence,” by which the election of Clay delegates to the National Convention was to be prevented. Three of them, located say at New York city, Utica, and Rochester, would write to one another: “Do all you can for Clay in your district, for I am sorry to say he has no strength in this.” These letters from pretended friends of Clay, being handed round in each of the districts, would enable the conspirators to say everywhere: “It is useless for us to send delegates favorable to Mr. Clay from here, for he has no strength anywhere else.”
