Clay ever was sentenced to death, and very early in his professional career he acquired the reputation of being able to insure the life of any criminal intrusted to his care, whatever the degree of guilt. That his success in saving murderers from the gallows did not benefit the tone and character of Kentucky society, Clay himself seemed to feel. “Ah, Willis, poor fellow,” he said once to the man whose acquittal he had obtained by so audacious a dramatic coup, “I fear I have saved too many like you, who ought to be hanged.”
But he was equally successful in the opposite direction when acting as public prosecutor. He had frequently been asked to accept the office of attorney for the commonwealth, but had always declined. At last he was prevailed upon to take it temporarily, until he could obtain the appointment of a friend, who, he thought, ought to have the place. The first criminal case falling into his hands was one of peculiar interest. A slave, who was highly valued by his master on account of his intelligence, industry, and self-respect, was, in the absence of the owner, treated very unjustly and harshly by an overseer, a white man. Once the slave, defending himself against the blows aimed at him, seized an axe and killed his assailant. Clay, as public prosecutor, argued that, had the deed been done by a free man, considering that it was done in self-defense, it would have been justifiable homicide, or, at worst, manslaughter. But having been done by a slave, who was in duty
