In the summer of 1814 Clay resigned his speakership of the House of Representatives to accept a diplomatic mission as Peace Commissioner to confer with commissioners from Great Britain.  He had as associates John Quincy Adams, James A. Bayard, Jonathan Russell, and Albert Gallatin—­the ablest financier in the country after the death of Hamilton.  The Commissioners met at Ghent, and spent five tedious months in that dull city.  The English commissioners at once took very high ground, and made imperious demands,—­that the territory now occupied by the States of Michigan, Illinois, Wisconsin, Indiana, and a part of Ohio should be set apart for the Indians under an English protectorate; that the United States should relinquish the right of keeping armed vessels on the great Lakes; that a part of Maine should be ceded to Great Britain to make a road from Halifax to Quebec, and that all questions relating to the right of search, blockades, and impressment of seamen should remain undiscussed as before the war.  At these preposterous demands Clay was especially indignant.  In fact, he was opposed to any treaty at all which should not place the United States and Great Britain on an equality, and would not have been grieved if the war had lasted three years longer.  Adams and Gallatin had their hands full to keep the Western lion from breaking loose and returning home in disgust, while they desired to get the best treaty they could, rather than no treaty at all.  Gradually the British commissioners abated their demands, and gave up all territorial and fishery claims, and on December 14, 1814, concluded the negotiations on the basis of things before the war,—­the status quo ante bellum.  Clay was deeply chagrined.  He signed the document with great reluctance, and always spoke of it as “a damned bad treaty,” since it made no allusion to the grievance which provoked the war which he had so eloquently advocated.

Gallatin and Clay spent some time in Paris, and most of the ensuing summer in London on further negotiations of details.  But Clay had no sooner returned to Lexington than he was re-elected to the national legislature, where he was again chosen Speaker, December 4, 1815, having declined the Russian mission, and the more tempting post of the Secretary of War.  He justly felt that his arena was the House of Representatives, which, as well as the Senate, had a Republican majority.  It was his mission to make speeches and pull political wires, and not perplex himself with the details of office, which required more executive ability and better business habits than he possessed, and which would seriously interfere with his social life.  How could he play cards all night if he was obliged to be at his office at ten o’clock in the morning, day after day, superintending clerks, and doing work which to him was drudgery?  Much more pleasant to him was it to preside over stormy debates, appoint important committees, write letters to friends, and occasionally address the House in Committee of the Whole, when his voice would sway the passions of his intelligent listeners; for he had the power “to move to pity, and excite to rage.”