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EULOGY 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 LIFE, CHARACTER ANI) SERVICES 
 
 OF 
 
 HENRY CLAY. 
 
 PRONOUNCED BEFORE THE COMMON COUNCIL AND 
 CITIZENS OF CHICAGO. JULY 20. 1852. 
 
 BY S. LISLE SMITH, ESQ 
 
 CHICAGO : 
 
 DAILY JOURNAL OFFICE PRINT, 
 
 1852. 
 
 r 
 
1 3 A. o ^ 
 
 
CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 CHICAGO, July 21st, 1852. 
 S. LISLE SMITH, Esq.:— 
 
 Dear Sir : — The undersigned, believing that the pub- 
 lication of the Eulogy pronounced by you, on the occasion of the Funeral Obsequies 
 of Henry Clay at Chicago, on the 20th inst., would be highly satisfactory to our 
 citizens and the public generally, would, on behalf of themselves, and the other 
 members of the Joint Committee of Arrangements, respectfully request a copy 
 for the purpose indicated. 
 
 Very truly Yours, 
 
 J. L. JAMES, 
 J. H. KINZIE, 
 I. N. ARNOLD, 
 U. P. HARRIS, 
 
 H. G. SHUMWAY, 
 A. J. BROWN, 
 ARNO VOSS, ^ 
 ISAAC COOK, 
 
 JOHN ROGERS. 
 
 CHICAGO, July 22d, 1852. 
 Gentlemen: — Your letter, requesting a copy of the Eulogy pronounced by my- 
 self upon Mr. Clay for publication, is received. 
 
 Thanking you for tiie manner in which you are pleased to speak of the humble 
 tribute referred to, I herewith transmit you a copy of the same. 
 
 Very Truly, S. LISLE SMITH. 
 
 J. L. Jamis, H. G. Shumwat, U. P. Harris, Esqs., <tc., &c. 
 
EULOGY 
 
 "In Rama there was a voice heard — lamentatiou and weeping, and great moiu-n- 
 ing : — Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they 
 are not." 
 
 Mourn, Sons and Daugliters of America ! mourn. A great light has 
 gone out. A bright star has disappeared from the horizon. A glorious 
 Sun has gone down in the West — never again in our world to rise. 
 
 Mourn — Statesmen of America ! — mouni ! One of the wisest and 
 most experienced (of your number,) that have graced the annals of our 
 history, has joined the great and the good, in the world above. 
 
 Mourn — Patriots of America ! The soul of one of our country's no- 
 blest sons, has winged its flight to the Spirit land. 
 
 Mourn — Philanthropist and lovers of Liberty throughout the world — 
 a great benefactor of his race has been gathered to his Fathers. Mourn 
 — for Henry Clay is dead! 
 
 Already have the chambers of our Legislative Halls been clad with the 
 drapery of mourning ; — already have the associates of his trials and con- 
 quests, in the great arena of his intellectual conflicts, paid the last tribute 
 of attection to the memory of the mighty dead. Already has the solemn 
 procession wended its way through our crowded cities, our busy towns, 
 our smiling \Tllages — amid tolling bells, and booming cannon ; and 
 with thousands of torches illuminating the darkness of midnight, bearing 
 the Hfeless remains to the silent city of the dead. Already have thou- 
 sands, and tens of thousands of freemen gazed upon the lineaments of 
 the great departed, and fain would "beg a hair of him for memory." Al- 
 ready has the full heart of the American people exclaimed — 
 "Bear hence his body, 
 And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded 
 As the noblest corpse that ever herald 
 Did follow to his Urn." 
 
6 
 
 Aliea<ly have been spoken the solemn words — "Dusl to dust — ashes to 
 ashes — earth to earth." The shroud, the coIKd, the sepulchre, are all that 
 now remains of Henry Clay. All that remains, did I say? God forbid 
 — "His fame survives — bounded only by the limits of the earth, and by 
 the extent of the human mind. He survives in our hearts — in the grow- 
 ing knowledge of our children — in the affections of the good throughout 
 the world," And when the walls of our Capitol shall have crumbled 
 into dust — when nations now existing shall be no more — or shall only 
 live in history, like Assyria, or Babylon, or ancient Greece, /its name will 
 nev'er die, until love of virtue ceases on earth — but his name and his fame 
 will grow brighter and brighter, until earth itself sinks into chaos, and 
 vintil ciicling moons shall wax and wane no more. 
 
 Our whole nation mourns. It is like a family bereaved of its head. 
 Political animosities are forgotten. Parties but lately an'ayed in bitter 
 hostility against each other, now meet to mingle their tears o'er the grave 
 of the illustrious dead. All feel that a great link that connected us with 
 the ilays of our country's early history, has been severed ; that a void, an 
 aching void, is created in our Nation's Council ; that another great man 
 has fallen in Israel ; "that the strong staff is broken, and the beautiful 
 rod." 
 
 Were it not that the light of ci^•ilization and revelation has dawned 
 upon our path-way : were it not that we are travelers and pilgrims through 
 this vale of tears ; were it not that this life is but the commencement of 
 an infinite existence; weie it not that we are taug;ht by Holy Writ, that 
 " the days of our years are three score years and ten — and if by reason of 
 strength they be four score, yet is their strength labor and sorrow," we 
 might, in the fullness of our overflowing hearts, be tempted to exclaim — 
 
 "Hung be tlie Heaven's with black — yield day to night ! 
 
 Cornels, importing change of times and states — 
 Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky, 
 And with them scourge the bad, revolting stars, 
 Tliat have consented unto Henry's death !" 
 
 We are here, fellow citizens, with mourning spirits, to pay the last tri- 
 bute of affection to the memory of our departed Statesman. But amid 
 our sorrow, let us not forget that stricken one, now beside that desolate 
 hearth, who feels this bereavement with an intensity that has no parallel 
 in the national sorrow. This blow has lidlen with untold anguish upon 
 the head of that aged widow, whose hoary locks and trembling limbs, 
 
admonish her and us, that the time of her depaiture is near at hand. 
 
 We are told that "when David returned in triumph to Jerusalem, he 
 innted the aged Barazilli to go up and reside with him at Court, but he 
 dechned it on account of his age and infirmities, and begged the King to 
 take his son in his place. 
 
 In the same spirit, this venerable and excellent matron, sending one of 
 her children to the Capital, chose rather to remain in her retirement, than 
 to share the honors awarded to her distinguished husband. She well 
 knew that the sands of his hour-glass were gradually dropping away; 
 that anxiety and public care were rapidly wasting his strength; that the 
 h?nd of disease was upon him ; but (.hitij called him away from the joys 
 of that fire-side — and she well knew that he always obeyed that call. 
 She bade him the last farewell. Oh what must be the sorrows of that 
 aged companion of his joys and sorrows ?"* Upon the sanctity of that 
 grief I cannot trespass. 
 
 The Grecian painter, though he could display on the glowing canvass 
 the manly sympathy of Achilles, and the stubborn grief of Ulysses, 
 threw a veil o'er grief that could not be portrayed. Language is inade- 
 quate to depict that great affliction ; but let us commend her to the God 
 of the Widow, and let our aspirations ascend that her pathway to the 
 tomb be smoothed — that the Comforter will bind up the broken heart, 
 pour oil and wine into the bleeding bosom, and give her "beauty for 
 ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garments of praise for the 
 spirit ot heaviness." 
 
 "Eulogy has mistaken her province and her powers, when she assumes 
 for her theme" the glory of Henry Clay. It was the beautiful remark 
 of the Poet — 
 
 "Would you praise Oassar — say Caesar — go no further r 
 
 The deeds and the virtues of Henry Clay are his high eulogiums ; his 
 deeds most familiar to you memory — his virtues most dear to your aftec- 
 tions. To me, therefore, there is nothing permitted but to borrow from 
 yourselves ; and although a pencil more daring than mine would languish 
 in attempting to r etrace the hving lines which the finger of truth has 
 drawn upon your hearts, you will bear with me whilst on a subject which 
 dignifies everything related to it, 
 
 "I tell what you yourselves do know." 
 
 To the philosophical observer of the human race, it would appear, that 
 
 * Sermon of H. A. Boardtnan, on the death of Wm. Henry Harrison. 
 
tLe gratitude of mankind should be drawn to their benefactors ; that all 
 should love to honor those, who, by a long life of untiring devotion to 
 their country's good, have adorned the age and the country in which their 
 lot was cast. A number of these have successively arisen, no more distin- 
 guished by the lustre of their talents, than by the ele\'ation of their virtues. 
 Of those, however, who were born and acted through life as if they acted 
 not for themselves, but for their country, and the whole human race, how 
 few are recorded in the long annals of ages, and how wide the intervals 
 of time and space that divide them ? In all the dreary length of way, 
 they appear, as has been beautifully remarked, "like five or six light-houses, 
 in as many thousand weary miles of coast. They gleam upon the sur- 
 rounding darkness with unextinguishable splendor, Hke stars seen through 
 a mist," to guide and direct the weary marinei-, when tossed upon the 
 billows of an uncertain ocean. 
 
 In our day and generation, one such benefactor has been vouchsafed to 
 us — one whose whole life was that of unselfish aspiration — one whose 
 patriotism has burnt as pure aad bright as the vestal's flame — one upon 
 the drama of whose life the curtain has just fallen. 
 
 On the 12th day of April, A. D., \111^ Henry Clay was born. The 
 son of a poor Baptist clergyman, he was early deprived by death of the 
 counsels of his father, and Avas left to the care of a Avidowed mother. 
 She trained him to a love of tnitk, and cultivated that high, moral sense, 
 for which he has ever been distinguished. 
 
 In no position in life, does the character of this world-renowned States- 
 man appear to better advantage, than when, to the eye of memory, he is 
 seen, as the "Mill Boy of the Slashes,'' trudging to mill, and discharging 
 those filial duties, to which he was so devoted. 
 
 And here let me, in passing, refer for a moment to a fact, that beai-s 
 most honorable testimony to the holy influence of a mother. In casting 
 our eyes over the history of our country, we cannot fail to be struck with 
 the circun:istance, that a very large proportion of the eminent men who 
 have adorned our annals, Avere left at a tender age to the care of widowed 
 mothers. 
 
 "This tell to motliers ; what a holy charge 
 Is lheir"s ; with what a kiugly power their love 
 Might nile the fountain of the new-born mind; 
 Warns thoni to wake at early dawn, and sow 
 Good seeds before the world dotli sow its tares." 
 
 At the early age of twenty he obtained a license for the practico of the 
 
9 
 
 Law. The field that presented itself in his native State, was too narrow 
 for the exercise of his ambition, or the avenues to success were too crowd- 
 ed. He saw the germ of future power in the patldess forests and bound- 
 less prairies of the Western world ; and hitherward, with no friend but 
 his own right arm, with no wealth but an unsullied character, he came a 
 youthful pioneer; or, to use the graphic and toucliing language of Chief 
 Justice Robinson — "He came leaning alone on Providence, a widowed 
 mother's prayers, and the untutored talents with which God had blessed 
 him." 
 
 Kentucky was not then as now, the garden of our land. Those lovely 
 meadows were not then as now, waving with the fruits of agriculture. 
 The song of the reaper was not then resounding o'er those beautiful har- 
 vest fields, that now excite the admiration of the traveler or the stranger. 
 Those flowery wood pastures were not then reclaimed by the industry of 
 man. No ! that gallant State was then known as the "battle-field and 
 hunting-ground of the red man." There, the numerous tribes of savages 
 who roamed through our land, assembled to chase the boimding doe, or 
 to meet in hostile array ; and there pealed the horrid war-whoop, the sig- 
 nal of devastation and of death. Each licking, at which the antlered 
 stag came to slake his thirst, was reddened by the blood of the red man. 
 Each mound contained the bones of the massacred and the murdered. 
 Toil, danger and privation, were to be the companions of the youthful 
 pioneer; but these he heeded nol, for well did he know that the toils and 
 sorrows of youth, like the rains of spring, would produce the rich har- 
 vests of manhood. 
 
 The political career of this distinguished Statesman commenced at a 
 peculiarly interesting period of our history. The people of Kentucky 
 ■were about forming a new Constitution, and the State was convulsed by 
 the efforts of contending factions. At this this early age, the same voice 
 that afterward plead the cause of struggling freemen — the same voice 
 that inspired the patriot of South America, and cheered the heart of the 
 struggling Greek, was raised in behalf of the down-trodden and oppressed 
 African. An interesting feaiure in the new Constitution, was a proposi- 
 tion /or ^ro«jt>cc<M^e emancipation. Dr. Franklin had proposed a similar 
 plan in Pennsylvania; and his profound sagacity and enlightened wisdom, 
 can now be discerned, in the general prospeiity and happiness of the peo- 
 ple of the Key-stone State. 
 
 iluch is said in our day of the evil and moral guilt of slavery ; and 
 many are the plans presented to the consideration of the philanthropist 
 
10 
 
 for the abolition, the peaceful abolition, of this admitted evil. So delicate 
 however, is the question, under the peculiar relations of the Federal Con- 
 stitution, that there is no subject that more agitates the minds of the re- 
 flecting portion of our people, than to discover a plan — a certain and 
 peaceful method of wiping out the foul blot on our national escutcheon. 
 The feeling, however, in reference to the moral guilt of slavery, lias been 
 but of late years enkindled. Rush, Rawle, Lafayette and Wilberforce, 
 were the first pioneers in the cause of emancipation ; and few were the 
 followers enlisted under the banners of those gifted champions of human 
 rights. Henry Clat was one. Is it therefore claiming too much to 
 say, that a young advocate of liberty, who, in the latter part of the last 
 century, boldly encounters the passions and prejudices that hem in the 
 "peculiar institution," and fearlessly proclaims prospective emancipation? 
 as a principal of the organic law, is entitled to a high rank among the 
 benefactors of his race ? If the counsels of Henry Clay had been regard- 
 ed, Kentucky would now have been a/rce State; and slavery, with its 
 blight and its mildew, would have been banished from its borders. 
 
 He was, whilst but in the bloom of early manhood, twice elected to the 
 U. S. Senate, to serve the residue of tei-ms rendered vacant by the resig- 
 nation of his predecessors; and in the year 1811, he was elected to the 
 House of Representatives. On his fi.ist appearance in that body, he was 
 elected Speaker. This, I believe is the only instance on record, where any 
 individual has been elevated to the tliird office in the Government, who 
 has not been, prior to his election, a member of the House over which he 
 was called to preside, and Avas a signal compliment to the rising greatness 
 of the great Statesman of the West. Without any disparagement to the 
 many distinguished citizens who have discharged the duties of Speaker, 
 it may safely be said, that no one ever discharged those high and respon- 
 sible duties with more manly impartiality and ability than Henry Clay; 
 and the fact, that no decision of the Speaker was ever reversed by the 
 House, is a striking proof of the confidence of the House in their presi- 
 ding oiilcer. 
 
 Time will not allow me to recapitulate the eminent services rendered 
 to the country by the Speaker of the House af Representatives. The 
 Republican party at that time had a majority in both branches of the Na- 
 tional Legislature. 
 
 Macon, Gaston, Chceves, Calhoun, Lowndes, and a host of other emi- 
 nent men, sustained the administration of Mr. Madison. Among these, 
 proudly conspicuous, stood Henry Clay. The injuries inflicted on our 
 
11 
 
 commerce by the British Order in Council — the impressment of our sea- 
 men — the influence of British Agents in exciting the western tribes of 
 Indians to deeds of midnight massacre and murder, had produced a pow- 
 erful feehng of indignation in our land. Merchantmen plimdered and 
 confiscated on the highway of nations ; seven thousand American citizens 
 pining in foreign prisons, or condemned to a fate more hard — compelled 
 to bear arms against their own brothere; hundreds of blazing and burn- 
 ing cabins ; thousands of scalped and ^^olated \'i'Ctims of Indian barbarity, 
 called in tones of thrilling power upon the American people, to rise in 
 defence of their dearest rights. Forbearance ceased to be a virtue. The 
 non-importation, the non-intercourse, the embargo, had been tried, but 
 without success ; nothing was left for a gallant people, but an appeal to 
 the God of Battles. 
 
 In the galaxy of distinguished men who participated in the debates of 
 that day, no one manifested a loftier patriotism, or displayed a more chiv- 
 alric courage, than the Speakei- of the House of Representatives. In the 
 very midst of that sti'ife his noble plume was seen waving in th« battle's 
 van — and his voice sounded like a clarion, calling upon the patriots of the 
 land to rally around the standard of their country. Listen to it: — 
 
 "The colors that fio-.xt at the mast-head shall be the credentials of our 
 seamen. * * * * in such a cause, with the aid of Providence, 
 we must come out, crowned with success; but if we fail, let us fail like 
 men ; lash ourselves to our gallant tars, and expire in one common strug- 
 gle, fighting for Free Trade and Sailor's Rights.'' 
 
 It was a remark of Mr. Jetferson, I think, that in the Continental Con- 
 gress, John Adams was the Colossus of the War of our Independence. 
 The bold and daring spirit swept away like cobwebs the arguments of 
 the opposition — and his noble appeals animated and inspired his hearers. 
 With equal propriety may it be said, that Henry Clay was the Colossus 
 of the second War of Independence. He il was, who infused new life 
 into the Administiation — animated its counsels, directed its energies, and 
 sustained its measures ; and his manly and noble spirit impressed itself 
 upon the deliberations of the Nation's Council ; and such was the confi- 
 dence by the wise Madison, that he tendered to him the oflace of Com- 
 mander in Chief the U. S. Army — a post which, for reasons highly 
 honorable and delicate, was declined. 
 
 The war was declared — and though for a time disastrous, its closing 
 scenes redeemed the American character. Chauncey, Perry, McDonough> 
 Macomb, Scott, Jackson — Champlain, Erie, Lundy's Lane, and New 
 Orleans, can never be forgotten. 
 
12 
 
 During the war Mr. Clay was transferred to Ghent, to assist the Com- 
 mipsioners in forming a Treaty of Peace. In the debates of that Conven- 
 tion, Mr. Clay took a most decided part ; and for his noble stand in behalf 
 of western rights, he deserves the deep gratitude of every western man. 
 I refer to his course in reference to the exclusive right of navigation of 
 the Mississippi River. 
 
 It will be remembered by my hearers, that by the Treaty of 1 783, and 
 that of 1794, commonly called Mr. Jay's Treaty, the Mississippi River 
 was open as well to the subjects of Great Britain, as to the citizens of the 
 United Statee. At both of these periods, Spain was entitled to the sover- 
 eignty of the whole western bank of the river, and to the eastern bank 
 as far as the 31st decree of north latitude. The United States were en- 
 titled to the sovereignty of the eastern bank above this point, to the boun- 
 dary line between the territory of the U. S., and of Great Britain ; which, 
 according to the Tieaty of 17S3, was to be drawn from the Lake of the 
 Woods, which would, as was then believed, stiike the river below^ its source. 
 If such was the case, Gi-eat Britain owning territory at the source of the 
 river, would be entitled to free access to its mouth. 
 
 At the Treaty of Ghent, the aspect of affairs was materially changed. 
 Spain had reHuquished all her rights to the United States ; and it was as- 
 certained by actual survey, that aline drawn from the Lake of the Woods, 
 would not strike the Mississippi river — consequently Great Britain could 
 lay no claim to the right of na\igation, as the river was exclusively within 
 our jurisdiction. 
 
 Mr. Gallatin proposed to surrender the right of navigation in exchange 
 for a right to fish within Britisli jurisdiction. Mr. Adams and Mr. Bay- 
 ard concurred with Mr. Gallatin, thus composing a majority of the dele- 
 gation. 
 
 Against the surrender of western lights, Mr. Clay loudly protested; 
 declared he would sign no such Treaty, with such a provision in it — but 
 would go home — appeal to the people, and use bis influence to have the 
 Treaty rejected, and let the war go on. Mr. Bayard finally agreed with 
 Mr. Clay, and the provision was not inserted. 
 
 What a debt of gratitude do we not owe to this far-sighted and patriotic 
 Statesman ? Who can tell what troubles and ditliculties — what border 
 feuds — what constant sources of national irritation have been avoided ? 
 The noble Father of Waters is now ]>]oughed by a thousand steamers, 
 bearing the rich products of our soil ; and o'er these proudly iloat the 
 stars and stnpes. The prow of no foroign vpssel divides its waters, and 
 
13 
 
 no foreign nation rivals us in tlie trade of this great Valley of the West. 
 
 This is not the place or the occasion to refer to the great subject of 
 Protection to American Labor; to the advancement of which, Mr. Clay 
 devoted so many years of his useful and honored life, vrith so much zeal 
 and earnestness, as caused his cotemporaries to bestow upon him the proud 
 appellation of— "the Father of the American System." 
 
 Acting as he did, upon the benevolent principle, that he "who causes a 
 blade of grass to grow, where none grew before,"' is entitled to rank 
 among the benefactors of^ankind — he believed it to be the policy of our 
 country, to turn its laboA into diversified and varied channels, and thus 
 give constant occupation and ample remuneration to all; and with that en- 
 thusiasm that formed so prominent a trait in his character, he pressed his 
 measures. 
 
 Able and eloquent Statesmen differed with him in reference to National- 
 Pohcy. The record of their views and arguments are a portion of our 
 history ; and I would offend against your sense of propriety, were I but 
 to glance at the suliject. To speak of these eloquent efforts in support of 
 his own policy — with strict impartiality, 1 could not. We are here to-day 
 to mingle together o'er the grave of departed worth, our feelings of rev- 
 erence and love, for services, whom all admire; and cold must be that 
 heart, that does not see and feel enough in tliat life and character to ad- 
 mire, without striking one string that could produce one inharmonious 
 note. 
 
 So too, in regard to Internal Improvements. He saw this young and 
 growing country, with its thousand miles of sea coast — with its majestic 
 inland oceans — with its mighty rivers, flowing inte the Gulphs of St. 
 Lawrence and Mexico; and with a Statesman's pride, he strove to develop 
 its boundless resources — strove to cement this blessed Union — the source 
 of our national prosperity ; and by roads and canals, bind the people to- 
 gether "with hooks of steel." 
 
 Here he encountered the opposition of that pure and wise Chief Mag- 
 istrate, James Monroe, on a constitutional point of difference — yet, with 
 his characteristic boldness, he manfully contended for what he deemed 
 right. The Cumberland Road is a monument to his efforts; and the trav- 
 eler, as he now threads his way across the mountains, o'er which has been 
 constructed a greater than an Alpine way, will find a monument of stone, 
 surmounted by the Genius of Liberty, and bearing the name of Henrt 
 Clay. 
 
 His comprehensive patriotism, bounded by no section, but including in 
 
14 
 
 its wide range tlie sterile coast of the North — the rich savannahs of the 
 South — the crowded cities of the East — the boundless prairies of the 
 West, could, in the glowing lungua-ge of the British Bard, exclaim — 
 
 "Bid Harbors open — public %vays extend ; 
 Bid Temples, •worthier of the God ascend ; 
 Bid the broad arch the dangerous flood contain — 
 The mole projecting, break the roaring main 
 Back to its bed, the subject sea coramaud, 
 And roll obedient rivers through the land." 
 
 But here again must we commit these to efforts impartial of history, who, 
 with the spear of Ithuriel, will give shajxi and color to every object which 
 he touches. 
 
 "Would that I could dwell in detail on other important events in the 
 life of the great departed. Fain would I describe to you the agitation 
 that pervaded our land, when our sister State of Missouri was knocking 
 at the doors of our Union for admittance. Fain would I depict the gloom 
 that shrouded every patriots countenance, when the fires of disunion were 
 kindled in our midst; when the exciting subject of Slavery was rocking 
 this Union to its very centre ; when sectional feeling were aroused ; when 
 the great interests of this government, on which are centered all the hopes 
 of man, were in fearful jeopardy. And fain would I point you to those 
 untiring and indefatigable efforts — to that high and holy love of country, 
 that were displayed by Kentucky's most cherished son, and which were 
 the means, under Providence, of averting from our land the honors of 
 
 civil war. 
 
 Fain would I love to dwell upon that ardent love of liberty, that es- 
 poused the cause of the suffering patriots of South America — that love 
 for the great family of man, tliat induced the "great Commoner of our 
 age" to encounter the sarcasms of the selfish politicians of that day, and 
 boldly propose the recognition of the indej^endcnce of the South Ameri- 
 can Republics. To Henky Clay, not to George Canning, belongs the 
 honor of calling the South American States into existence. 
 
 The speeches made by him at that time, fell, it is true, unheeded upon 
 the American ear — but Bolivar read them at the head of his army, and 
 many a patriot at the bjise of the Andes, lushed to the contest, breathing 
 the name of Henry Clay. 
 
 Fain would I love to dwell on his efforts in behalf of stniggling Greece 
 
 and fain would I remind y(^u, that amid the long buried ruins of the 
 
 Parthenon, the name of Henry Clay is known and honored. 
 
15 
 
 Fain would I refer to the Treaties of Amity and Commerce, made by 
 Liin whilst Secretary of State — more in number than those of any other 
 Secretary up to that period of our history — but I must hurry onward. 
 
 The country was again in difficulty and danger. The hydra head of 
 nulliiication was reared in our midst. Opposition to the laws of the Un- 
 ion was boldly proclaimed. A gallant State, whose sod had been drench- 
 ed by the best blood of the Revolution ; a State whose Marion and Pink- 
 ney, whose Laurens and Rutledge, had devoted their lives to the cause of 
 American Independence 
 
 That devoted Patriot, whose love of country was only equalled by his 
 iron will, Andrew Jackson — a man who never faltered in his purpose — 
 patriotically proclaimed, that the laws of the Union should at all hazarcls 
 be maintained; and to enforce them, he sent a gallant brother in arms, 
 the present Conunander-in-' hief of the U. S. Army, to South Carolina. 
 
 The people of our Union rushed to the support of the Hero of New 
 Orleans. Tlie Palmetto State armed herself to repel what she deemed 
 an in\ asion. Bayonets bristled in her cities, and martial music was heard 
 in her streets — and the time rapidly drew near when a hostile collision 
 must ensue. Dark and portentous was the horizon ; deep rolled the dis- 
 tant thundei'; the lightning's fiery flashes played around, and the ship of 
 State was tossed upon the billows of a stormy ocean. Despair filled the 
 patriots heart ; the enemies of our free institutions sneered and rejoiced 
 that the last Republic on earth was destined to a speedy dissolution. 
 
 But then, amid the howling of the storm — amid the roaring of the 
 waves — amid the pealing of Heaven's artillery, I saw a farm leap forth — 
 aye, in the fierce flashing of the storm, 
 
 "I saw his proud, undaunted form, 
 
 Upon the quivering deck. 
 
 As with his eye on Union's Star, 
 
 By his unswerving skill afar, 
 
 We shunned the thi-eatening wreck." 
 
 It is not for me to refer to the political campaign of 1840, in which Mr. 
 Clay, although defeated before the nominating Convention at Harrisburg, 
 rendered such eminent services to his party; nor to the events that suc- 
 ceeded that fierce political contest; nor to the catastrophe that befel the 
 people, when, in one short month, the p.ieans of rejoicing were exchanged 
 for the funeral notes of sadness; nor of the subsequent course of the act- 
 ing President. Suffice it to say, that it having been clearly demonstrated, 
 that he could no longer be useful to his country, he, hke a Roman veteran, 
 
16 
 
 claimed an honorable discharge. Forty years of faithful service entitled 
 him to that ; he bade adieu to the scene of his triumphs, and retired to 
 the pleasant lawns and classic shades of Ashland. 
 
 And here, whilst in the bosom of his family — in the midst of an affec- 
 tionate people, by whom he was beloved — amid his flocks and herds, let 
 us pause, and contemplate for a moment the moral and intellectual char- 
 acter of the Sage of Ashland. 
 
 Possessing a vigorous intellect by nature, well-framed by subsequent 
 culture, Mr. Clay was a Republican and a philanthropist, from the very 
 dawn of his character. The study of the law he pursued under Chan- 
 cellor Wythe, a man of Roman stamp, in Rome's best age. 
 
 As ii leader in a deliberative body, he had no equal in his day. 
 Boldness, ardor, address, chivalry, were his prominent traits. Reverses 
 could not crush, nor defeat discourage him ; nay, they seemed to give 
 new strength, for he leapt like Anteus from the earth. 
 
 In victory or disaster, he was ever the same — frank, bold, fearless, where du- 
 ty led him — he seemed to be born to command, and lead his gallant cohorts 
 to battle, caring little whether he encountered one or twenty "Presidents;" 
 and whether the issue was defeat or victory, he was ever on hand to con- 
 sole or to applaud. He was ever prompt in decision, and finn in action. 
 
 His too was a heroic, self-sacrificing spirit. Never did telf seem to 
 animate him. Is he disappointed at the result of a nominating Conven- 
 tion, like that of Harrisburg, in 1839, his response is, "what is a public 
 man worth who is not ready to sacrifice himself for his country ?" 
 
 Do the clouds of calumny and detraction lower around him — his answer 
 is, as in a letter to the speaker who now addresses you — "I write this 
 letter for your satisfaction, and not for publication. I would rather sub- 
 mit to the effects of calumny, than betray any undue sensitiveness about 
 it. I have outlived other calumnies, and by the blessing of God, will 
 surrive this and all others." 
 
 Do friends counsel j)olic>j in reference to political action — they are 
 met with the noble response, fit to be emblazoned on every lintel and 
 door-post in our land — "1 would rather be right than be President." 
 
 His eloquence, in a great degree, resembled Patrick Henry, another of 
 Hanover's gifted sons. It was bold, fearless, soul-inspiring; it was lite- 
 rally a flame of fire, warming and kindling every generous emotion of 
 the heart. 
 
 With the most winning manners — with the most pure and generous 
 impulses, he was idolized by all who came under the spell of his magic 
 
11 
 
 voice. No mail in our (lay and generation ever bad so mnny tried and 
 unselfish friends. 
 
 Asa patriot, history will place him in the very foremost ranl<s, next and 
 second oulv to Washinjrton. 
 
 Whenever the nation was in peril, he soared above the passions and 
 miserable jealousies of the hour, and knew no North, no South, no East, 
 no West — nothing but his country. 
 
 He was as open as the day — no one doubted what his views of pubHc 
 policy were — they were transparent to the public eye. He was indeed 
 "the noblest Roman of them all." 
 
 It was a beautiful eulogy of a political opponent on the floor of the 
 House of Representatives, in paying the last tribute of aftection to his 
 memory ; I mean the Hon. Mr, Bieckenridge, of Kentucky — for says this 
 eloquent Statesman, 
 
 "If I were to write his epitaph, 1 would inscribe, as the highest eulogy, 
 upon the stone that shall mark his last resting place, 'Here lies a man, 
 who was in public life more than fifty years, and never attempted to de- 
 ceive the people.' " 
 
 A few short years ago, a voice of weeping and lamentation came across 
 the waters. Then were heard the mourniul strains of that 
 
 "Harp, that once thro' Tara's Halls, 
 The soul of mnsic shed." 
 
 Those notes told of Erin— the Green Isle of the Ocean, clad in fackcloth 
 and ashes; that the Heaven's were brass, and the Earth iron ; that the 
 Almighty had let loose one of his most fearful agents of destruction — 
 worse than the earthquake, the tornado, or the pestilence — gaunt, grim, 
 stalking famine ; that the living and the dead were lying side by side in 
 the hovel of penury; that the famished infant was languishing upon the 
 cold and motionless bosom of atfection ; that the muscles of the strong 
 were shrinking; that day after day, the King of Terrors was reaping his 
 dread harvest, and there was no help. 
 
 Poor, starving, famishing Ireland, stretched out her attenuated and 
 shrunken hand ; she raised her feeble voice for aid. 
 
 In the Crescent City, in hopes of regaining shattered health, is an old 
 man, near three score and ten. No official station is his ; no pomp or 
 pageants surround him; no parasites attend him. He is a plain, honest 
 Republican. He had, but a short time before, been rejected by the peo- 
 ple, for the highest office in their gift. He heard that voice, and those 
 plaintive notes, and his generous heart was touched. He knew that it 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 was Ireland's Montgomery, wk) crimsoned tlio walls of Quebec witbs 
 his dying blood— and the bones of whose sons, fallen in the great strug- 
 gle for our liberty, now lie mingled with the soil of every State, front 
 New England to Palo Alto — and he came to the rescue. 
 
 His voice was heard ; its clarion notes resounded through our land, 
 pleading like angels, trumpet -tongued, for the sick, the starving, the dying 
 — and it found an echo in every generous heart. The humane, the char- 
 itable, the merciful, contributed cheerfully to this noble cause. 
 
 That voice of kindness and sympathy was heard by our Legislators— 
 and lo ! an American vessel of war spread its white sails to catch the 
 freshening breeze, with the stars and the stripes proudly floating o'er it 
 
 bearing not the weapons of war and devastation, but bread for the 
 
 starving, and clothing for the naked, of poor, desolate, afflicted Erin. 
 
 Time passed by, and our common country was in imminent peiil. The 
 acquisition of new territory opened again the exciting question of slavery 
 —a far more serious crisis than that of the Missouri, or the Compromise 
 of 1833, had arisen. Section had been arrayed against section; jealous- 
 ies ^heart-burning alienation, existed between the North and the South. 
 
 All fraternal feeling seemed to have departed, and the doctrine of a south- 
 ern confederacy w as boldly broached. The Potomac was destined to be- 
 come the boundary line between two great Commonwealths; and this 
 great nation was to be rent in twain. Already were the initiatory meas- 
 ures taken to effect this parricidal purpose. 
 
 But there was a sleepless eye that watched the current of public affairs; 
 twice had he saved the country from domestic l)roils — and although load- 
 pd with the weight of years and growing infirmities, he left his own de- 
 lightful fireside, to enter again the arena of public life. 
 
 How he toiled, how he labored, how he wielded the powers of his olf>- 
 quence and atldress, to coiciliate opposing factions, is known to all. The 
 adjustment measures of that Congress are of too recent an occurrence for 
 me to dwell upon. The storm has passed, but the ground-swell attests the 
 \iolence of that storm. Whatever difference of opinion may exist in ref- 
 erence to a portion of these measures, they are now the law of the land ; 
 and they have poure<l oil on the troubled waters, and caused the bright 
 sunshine of peace and prosperity still to beam upon our land. 
 
 There was one scene that took place at Washington a few short months 
 ago, that must have been of unsurpiissing sublimity. 
 
 An exile from his Father land—whose country had been crushed by 
 the iron heel of the Cossack— who had been immured in the walls of the 
 
19 
 
 Musselnuin's prison, arrived on our shores. An ovation was his, only 
 equaled by that of the youthful stranger, who, during tfie times that tried 
 men's souls, left the vine-clad hills of his own delio-htful France, "to fio^ht 
 for freedom in freedom's farthest land." 
 
 Like the welcome to the gallant Laftiyette, around the brave Hunga- 
 rian, comes a congregated nation. Old men bless, and children reverence 
 him ; the lovely come out to look upon him ; the learned deck their halls 
 to greet him ; the rulers of the land rise up to do him honor His jour- 
 ney to the Capitol is a scene worthy of record, as that of a Roman Coun- 
 cil in Rome's most palmy day. He pleads the cause of his oppressed 
 country with undoubted eloquence and power. He asks our people to 
 atibrd him "material aid." Carried away by enthusiasm, and by ardor 
 for popular liberty, our people are about forsaking the paths of peace and 
 prosperity, which the "Great Father of his country" so plainly marked 
 out. 
 
 At this interesting crisis of his mission, an interview was sought with 
 the "Sage of Ashland." Tbat Sage had ever worshipped at the shrine 
 of Liberty — had ever been one of its most devoted votaries. 
 
 "As a dying man," to use his own words, lie addi-essed the gallant exile. 
 He reiterated the long established doctrine of non-intervention in the af- 
 fairs of Europe, as best for this country — best for Europe — and best for 
 the cause of Liberty ; and clasping the hand of the eloquent stranger, ad- 
 ded, with his most impressive tones, "that on every day his life was spar- 
 ed, his fervent prayer should ascend to Almighty God, for the protection 
 of the noble exile, and for his restoration to his native land." 
 
 No wonder Kossuth's bosom swelled with unutterable emotion; no 
 wonder tears rolled down the veteran cheeks of the great Kentuckian — 
 for it must have been most inexpressibly touching. 
 
 Failing health now admonished, that soon the silver cord would be 
 loosed, and the golden bowl be broken. With a full knowledge that "the 
 days of the years of his pilgrimage were drawing near their close," he 
 transmitted to the Governor of Kentucky his resignation as Senator, to 
 take eft'ect from the first of September next. 
 
 From the memoi-able Session of 1850, Mr. Clay's health gradually de- 
 clined. The efforts made by him at that trying time, proved too much 
 for his wasted strength. His object in coming to Washington, was, if nec- 
 essary, to defend the Compromise measures, if attacked ; but he was un- 
 able to participate in any of the debates — for during the long and dreary 
 winter, he was confined to his chamber. 
 
20 
 
 '•The chamber, where the good man meets his late, is prinleged beyond 
 ilie walks of ordinary life." 
 
 If ever there was an instance, to whicb this beautiful and pious senti- 
 ment was peculiarly appropriate, it is that wbicb we have here assembled 
 to deplore ; nay, not to deplore — for what was there in the rare, harmo- 
 nious, moral and intellectual accomplislunents to deplore, but their loss. 
 
 His worldly affairs were all arranged; his temporal matters disposed of; 
 his last hour was rapidly approaching; he saw it approach with undis- 
 turbed serenity ; he counted the moments as they passed, and beheld that 
 his last sands were falling. His great object now was to prepare "to meet 
 his God." Death is at all times a fearful thing — 
 "It is a dread, a fearful thing to die." 
 
 The warrior on the ensanguined battle-field, amid the smoke, the din, 
 the excitement of the strife, when battling for tlie liberties of las country, 
 if he dies, dies a glorious death — for we have been told, 
 
 "Dulce el decorum est, pro patria mori." 
 
 The elder Pitt, when using his highest intellectual powers, espousing the 
 cause of struofD-hns: freemen, and carried away from the Council Chamber 
 to the cold grave, has his name deservedly embalmed in history. 
 
 John Quincy Adams, on the tloor of Congress, when rising to address 
 the Speaker, but reclining in syncope — and there, at tlie post of duty, 
 meeting the King of Terrors, will ever be cherisbed and honored by pat- 
 riotic hearts. 
 
 But to my mind, the spectacle of an aged Statesman, reclining on that 
 couch from which he is never to rise; at peace with God and man ; await- 
 ing with meek and patient acquiescence, the summons ; bowing with the 
 humility of a child to the discipline of the rod — is one on which methinks 
 men and angels would love to dwell. 
 
 The holy minister of God tells us, that at his request, he administered 
 to him the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. "This last act, more than 
 any other, sheds glory around his character. This is all that can be en- 
 rolled of him in the archives of eternity." 
 
 He tells us, that being extremely feeble, and desirous of having his 
 mind undiverted, no persons were present but his son and servant. There, 
 in that still chamber — on a week-day noon — the tides of life all flowing 
 around — three disciples of the Saviour — the minister of God, the dying 
 Statesman, and his sei vaut — partakers of the like precious fiiitb, commem- 
 orated the Savioin-'s dying love. 
 
21 
 
 He joined in the blessed sacrament witli great feeling and solemnity — 
 now pressing his hands together, and now spreading them forth, as words 
 of the service expressed the feelings, desires, supplications and thanksgiv- 
 ings of his heart. 
 
 It is in the moments of approaching dissolution, that the ruling passion 
 is oftentimes displayed. 
 
 Elijah and Elisha stood by Jordan — and the aged seer said unto his 
 young disciple — "ask what I shall do for thee, before I am taken away from 
 thee." And Elisha said — "1 pray thee let a double portion of thy spirit 
 rest upon me." And he said — "thou hast asked a hard thing — neverthe- 
 less, if thou see me when I am taken from thee, it shall be so with thee — 
 but if not, it shall not be so." 
 
 Then came the chariot of fire, and the horses of fire, and Elijah went 
 up by a whirlwind unto Heaven ; but he dropped his mantle to the young 
 Eli>sha. 
 
 tialler, the great physician, nearing the confines of the unknown world, 
 feeling his pulse, exclaimed, "My friend, the artery ceases to beat." 
 
 Keats, the illftited but gifted child of genius, when asked, a little while 
 before before his death, how he felt, answered — "better — I feel the daisies 
 growing o'er me." 
 
 Napoleon — the "setter up and puller down of Kings" — heard in the 
 beatinir of that terrible storm that howled around Lon^wood, the roar of 
 the cannon, and exclaimed — "Head — Army." 
 
 But the mind of Henry Clay was roaming amid the scenes of his happy 
 youth and early manhood — wandering o'er the slashes of Hanover, and 
 the shady groves of Ashland. 
 
 He niurnmi-ed ia a gentle tone, '■'■Mother? — mother? — toife? — dear 
 ■wife?'' — and with a glow of paternal feeling, outstretching his attenuated 
 fingers, and clasping the hands of his affectionate son, exclaimed, "do not 
 leave me — I am going;" and in another moment his ransomed spirit was 
 joining in the mtiody of the Heavenly Choir — and methought I heard 
 angels, arch-angels, seraphim, and cherubim, shout the "welcome home." 
 
 So have I oft seen, on the banks of yonder Lake, the glorious orb of 
 day arise in its morning beauty. As it culminated towards the meridian, 
 dark and lowering clouds hovered around it; but as it descended the 
 Western slope, it seemed to grow brighter and brighter, and larger and 
 larger, until, in a blaze of glory, it descended beneath the horizon, and 
 left a grateful, io)ig, lingering, twilight lehind^ 
 
 Upon the review of such a life, may we not say, "That life is long which 
 answers life's great end ?" 
 
22 
 
 And now that he is gone, full of years, and full of honors, to his rest, | 
 and to his blessed reward, may we not all feel that he has gone — nut like 
 
 one — 
 
 "who wraps tlie drapery of his couch 
 About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams" — 
 
 but like one — 
 
 "Life's duty done — so sinks the Clay ! 
 Light from its load the Spirit flies, 
 Whilst Heaven and Earth combine to say, 
 , 'How blest the riirhteous, when he dies.'" 
 
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