Class^.i \£Q Book __ 7 FUNERAL ORATION BY EPIIRAIM II. FOSTER: DELIVERED IN THE McKENDREK CHURCH, NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE, ON THE OCCASION OF THE CELEBRATION OF THE OBSEQUIES OE HENRY CLAY: July 28th, 1852 NASHVILLE, TENN: W. F. DANG & CO., BOOK AND JOB PRINTERS, DEADERICK STREET. i a so i ET3+0 COKRKSI'ONDKNCE. Nashville, July 29th, 185-. To the Hon. ErHRAiM H. Foster: Dear Sir: — The general Committee of Arrangements, app< >i ntfl bjf the Citizens of Nashville, to prepare the Obsequies of Henry Ci.av, have directed the undersigned to solicit for publication a copy of your \ eloquent Oration upon that occasion. Hoping that it may be agreeable to you to gratify the wishes of your numerous friends by a compliance with this request, We have the honor to subscribe ourselves, Your very obedient servants, JOHN HU. SMITH. RO. G. SMILED . J NO. A. McEWEN, Committee. Nashville, July 20th, 186J. To Messrs. John Hugh Smith, Ro. G. Smiley, John A. McEwen, Com- mittee. Gentlemen:— I have received your polite note of this morning re- questing meto furnish you for publication a copy of tin" Oration delivered on the occasion of the Obsequies of the Hon. Henry Clay; and with plea- sure herewith hand a copy of the same for that purpose. Be pleased to accept my grateful acknowledgements for the kind and complimentary terms you speak of it. At the same time, I fear that the judgment of the public will not be as favorable as your own. 1 have the honor to remain, Very faithfully, your obedient serv't. K. H. FOSTER KMERA I ORATION. The emblems of mourning that hang in deep and Btudi id festoons around this sacred desk, the anxious and attenti\> gaze of so many silent eyes, and the solemn stillness that pervades these consecrated walls, all proclaim the sorrow thai penetrates every heart in this vast assembly. The angel ot death has been in our midst. He has struck in our high places. A great man has fallen, and we come together, on a day set apart and dedicated to his memory, to manifest our grief. Henry Clay is no more. In the ripeness of old age, but more crowned with honors and renown than he. was bless- ed with lengthened years, he has been gathered to lie 1 fathers. He sleeps in the noiseless tomb, and we shall see him no more, forever, in the glory and the brightness of his long and shining career. And who will say that his departure — late as it was — o natural in the course of time and so much to be expected is not a national loss! Or friend or foe, who, in this hour of our sadness, can refuse to join in a parting tribute to the recol- lection of a patriot whose fame has reached the utmost bord- ers of civilization, and whose imperishable name will be chronicled in all time to come, in the proudest annals of the Republic? And now that he has passed to his sreat account, it i- ■- to dwell onsuchaman, and, in the hour of these funeral rites, to repeat the story of his deeds and recount souk- of the greal actions that have distinguished and immortalized his lit-'. The illustrious citizen whose loss we now so deeply deplore, was born in the ancient commonwealth of Virginia in the month of April, 1777. He was of poor, but virtuous and _r< putable parentage, and under the pressure of thai u»nei destitution which so often nerves and spirits ;i nobj* Wldgen< r ous ambition, he was — like most others of ipeera the living and the dead, who-.- <*aract*fs already illu- minate and adorn the short J>* brilliant page of our nation- [6] al progress, — the architect of his own fortunes: and irom the most humble and unpromising beginnings, ascended the -high estate" which signalized his life and has finally given him an historic name. The "Mill Boy of the Slashes"' — such was the homely soubriquet of his youthful days — deprived, in early boyhood, of the provident care of a good father, was neces- sarily consigned to the culture and protection of an indigent but exemplary mother, and opened his horn book for the first time, in a school house "made of crib-logs, with no iloor but the earth, the entrance — serving for door, window and air- being always open." Under these lean and unfavorable auspices, and without ever afterwards having had the advan- tage of any higher source of tuition, he began and ended his literary pupilage, and was, at the tender age of fifteen, trans- ferred thence to a mercantile counter in the City of Richmond, and, at the end of another year, to a lower clerkship in the high court of chancery of Virginia. A faithful representation, up to this time, of the person and the appearance of the obscure lad who was destined, in the fullness of his davs, to command the united confidence and applause of an admiring people, would unfold a picture at which a cynic might smile, and which, in the mural it forcibly teaches, should excite the "high hopes" of all the poor and unwashed children who swarm in the low log cabins of this equal, free and happy land. The future statesmen and orator — he, on whose patriotic and burning lips a listening senate has so often hung in delight and veneration, and whose mighty \oice, warmed by the most pure and lofty inspirations, so frequently afterwards invoked the -cuius of liberty in our public councils, or called back tin; nation t<> a knowledge of its true and best interests, — was. in his youthful days, awkward and ungainly in person and deportment, and raighl then be seen at any summer's sunrise. — half clad, uncovered and unshod — bounding along in a merry gambol of Lnnocenl and thoughtless boyhood, heading a juvenile chase after the small game of the adjoining woods, or, tricked off with the home made satchel that contained his book and his coarse and scanty mid-day meal, trudging to the school house, all full of morningjoy and gay and sportive as the wild birds that caroled in the forest around him. Such were the first prospects and such the early promisi "f a haplesslad, who, on the proofof his own words, "nevei recognized a father's smile, nor felt his caresses," and who, with all his unrivalled latent powers— "poor and penniless, w'uhout the favor of the great, and with an Imperfect and inadequati « lucation,"— bul \'o\- the timely interposition of a few generous ir-n- 1 . might h one, with the million who hail preceded him, "an , , ,, honored and unsung" to an obscure or an ignoble grav* indeed, it has often hap- i pened, that genius, repressed by ''chill penury," or fatal lj blighted by the ignorance or the cold indifference of an envi- ous and self seeking world, has been doomed to lead an in- glorious life and disappear forever, without leaving a solitary trophy behind to commemorate its hard fought battles, its victories, and the extent and immortality of its conquests. Most happy, however, for the American people and for the lamented dead whose obsequies we now celebrate, the grate- ful patronage that kindly removed him from his humble and unnoted birth place to the ancient capital of his native State, rescued his name from oblivion and laid the foundations, broad and deep, of the brilliant fortunes he afterwards achieved. At the immediate time of his auspicious advent into Rich- mond, the great destined statesman was, we are told, indif- ferently advanced in the most common country education of his day. lie was provincial, too, and unrefined in his man- ners, and clad in domestic garments of uncouth cut and tex- ture. They were the best, no question, and the most genteel that the loom and the hands of the good mother of the "Slashes" could fabricate and fashion: but they figured strangely in the streets and saloons of a polished metropolis, and made the awkward lad who wore them, a rare and fit subject for the jests and criticisms of his youthful associates. A short acquaintance however, with the high merits and the true worth of the rustic of Hanover, quickly turned ridicule into respect and admiration; and it was not long before those who were the first to laugh at, were the first to honor and applaud him. The artless and unsophisticated "new comer, 1 they soon discovered, was willing, apt and vigilant in service. — he was virtuous — he was industrious and steady in hi^ habits, and with all, he manifested superior capacity and an extraordinary rapidity of perception, and could with littl. instruction and as little practice, master and accurately exe cute and dispatch any branch of office business to which he was detailed. He delighted, too, in days of labor and nights of reading and contemplation: and accordingly his idle and pleasure hunting companions, returning at a late hour from their accustomed revels, always found him seated, where the] had left him, attentively engaged in some favorite study. What wonder then that a great chancellor — the learned and illustrious preceptor of Jefferson — whose duties led him frequently to the apartments of his clerk, should become ac quainted with the extraordinary mental endowment-; and the rareworthof the favorite of his official household. What won der that this clerk, at the earnest request of the good chancellor, should transfer his excellent and trusty subordinate to the for- mer as his copyist, his confidential friend and his associate in the manual labors of his station. What wonder, indeed, that this venerable and afflicted Judge— full of benevolence a- hy was of wisdom and knowledge, and always the patron and ad- viser of virtuous and aspiring youth — charmed with the indus- try and capacity of his destitute and talented assistant, should take him by the hand, point him to the high summit whence flowed wealth and fame, and nobly volunteer to aid, direct and guide his footsteps in an attempt to make the rugged and dangerous ascent And in this generous offer, the future desti- ny and tin' bright fortunes of his promising young scribe were securely sealed. He entered eagerly on the study of the law, and having in due season completed his forensic education, he removed, before the close of his twenty-first year, to the State of Kentucky, anil commenced his professional career in a town to which his great name and his residence have im- parted national immortality — for, Lexington, so long honored by his presence, and, hard by, his own beautiful Ashland — now another JMonticello in the West — cultivated and adorned by his taste and his labors, and finally hallowed by the ashes of its illustrious lord, shall live in history and in song, and be visited by pilgrim patriots until the American people shall cease to imitate the virtues of their heroic sires, and grow weary of that freedom for which they expended so much blood and treasure, and for the possession of which so many mil- lions now mourn in hopeless and heavy chains of bondage and captivity. We need not dwell on the professional progress and the rapid rise of our ambitious beginner. His acquirement-, the practical powers of his mind, and his intellectual capacity bore their rich fruits, ami the young stranger, who — penniless and friendless — had courageously taken his seat ••in the midst of a bar uncommonly distinguished by eminent members," ami whohas himself recorded the .joy ami delight with which he received his first "fifteen shilling fee," realized his brightest day dreams, and "immediately rushed into a successful and lucrative practice." Ami if there be any in this large assembly — as some, we are sure, there must be— who, under similar disadvantages, have achieved similar professional fortunes, they will, we know, in view of thea ing examples, join ns in commending hope and confidence to the hearts of the whole American youth. Let them be early taught to know and believe that, in a Government of practical freedom and equality, there is no -royal road" to the temple of Fame — that the pathway thither is open alike to e\ ery condition of life, and that so long as the opulent and the high born, can no titled supremacy, the poor and humble should never repine or despair. If indeed, they will only remember the encouraging truth, the surest promise is theirs; for the ex- perience of every observer proves, that whilst wealth and plenty, too often enerv id relax the energies of the mind and lessen the chances of ambition, the want of these doubt- [9] ful blessings gives strength and Inspiration to the heart, and often times enables the indigent and needy to reach hon< ra which riches alone can never purchase and seldom or ever win. Jin the instance of the departed statesman of whom we speak, [c short interval between his successful appearance at the and the beginning of his political career — though full of Iterest to himself— is chiefly to be signalized in a public Jotice of his life, by a marriage, which, — fortunately for both larties, — was as happy and as full of constancy and affection Its it was enduring. The venerable mother of his children — Ji few years his junior — blessed and supported with more tealth and vigor of mind and body, than usually accompany |her protracted existence, and crowned, in the late twilight of a [long and exalted day, with unclouded hope and confidence on the promises of her holy religion, still lives to join in the the united grief of a great nation over the canonized remains of the man of her first, her last and her only love. She had seen the cold and uncharitable earth close over all of her numerous offspring save four, and she had doubly mourned a heroic son, — in name, in person and in pride and chivalry, the mould and image of his own great father — who had glorious- ly fallen, far away from home, doing gallant battle for his country In these overpowering calamities she had gently bowed her submissive head and looked to Heaven. But the inexorable messenger — insatiate of victims — too soon alas! for a broken heart, came again, and the aged and bereaved matron — stricken down by a last hard blow, to a still deeper depth of sadness and sorrow — sits now in her lonely and disconsolate chamber, weeping by day, and through her dreary midnight vigils, over the loved lord she shall see no more forever — he who, in youth, in manhood and in old age, and through many long years, had been the object of her affectionate attachment and admiration, and whose kind and familiar voice had, in other days, so often tuned her soul to notes of life and joy, or soothed and calmed her heart in the hour of its unutterable afflictions. Truly a mother in Israel; she is a child of "many sorrows and full of grief." Of sorrows, indeed, that pierce and para- lyze the heart, but speak not, and are only seen in the heav- ing bosom, or heard in the deep drawn sigh of hopeless and unspeakable despair. We may send her our sympathies an I join in her griefs: but the great Physician, who dwells above, can, alone, administer the balm of healing to a prostrate and down trodden spirit; and He will, in His own good time and manner, dry up the widow's tears, or mitigate her sullerii; To His merciful and beneficent keeping, then, we consign the aged mourner and turn our thoughts again to the dead. In the beginning of this century, we know, historically; that [10] the 'wo great parties which then divided the American people, had assumed, towards each other, a most rancorous, resolute and determined attitude of political hostility. The civic war of that day raged with angry vehemence, in all the length and breadth of the land, and such was the bitterness of the st. ife that, in the violent collisions of opinion, many good men tr< mbled for the safety of the Republic. If there was any nettral ground within all our borders, where the peaceful might have stood and contemplated the fearful fraternal struggle, there were none so tame or so indifferent as to be ready or willing to occupy its space. The old, the middle aged and the young, all alike excited, rushed to the battlefield, and no where else were the elements of contention more fervid and fierce than they were in the young '-hunter State" of the West. If the Federal party in Kentucky vainly boasted a superior- ity in the wealth and talent of the country, the Republican party felt the strength and vitality of numbers; and these quailed not, neither did they blanch before the enemy. They, too, had their leaders — brilliant, fearless and undaunted — for Henry Clay, true to the instincts of the liberty loving class from which he sprung, and early taught in the Virginia school, was of them and among them. He was there, a youthful, but a steel clad warrior, ignorant of the weight and excellence of his own good helmet and buckler, or of the strength and keenness of his political battle-axe — a giant he was indeed, unconscious of "the might that slumbered"' in a giant's arms. On the occasion of a great public meeting in Lexington, and an animated and fiery discussion growing out of the measures of policy adopted by the elder Adams, and which have given an odious and a memorable notoriety to his admin- istration, Henry Clay was unexpectedly called up by the shouts and loud cries of a burning and indignant people to address his republican fellow citizens in defence of the principles of his party. The want of a more suitable forum was. in a plain and unartful generation, not unfrequently Buppliedby a con- venient cart; and from the tail of one of these primitive vehicles— where he was forcibly planted by the multitude — he stood up before the public, for the first time in his life, in political debate. Unaccustomed to the new scene, and intimidated— as well lie might have been — by the novelty of the task before him, and his own want of experience and preparation, the future hero of the day — we are told — grew pale, and faltered, and, for . w painful moments, his trembling limbs, and the inarticu- late sounds that passed his lips, threaten* d his own disgrace and the defeat and utter confusion of his friends. Such are not, unfrequently, the trials of true genius, even in its most ripe and mature growth; for real greatness, often times, stops and [11] stammers at a threshold where "fools rush in" with vain and presumptuous courage and self possession. But happily for his fame, and his future hopes, a minute more, and in that Hying minute "Richard was himself again!" The hesitation of our young and noble orator, was but the timid and fearful crouching of the lion-whelp who has never before essayed the power of his muscles, or successfully struck at the object of his terrible bound. The blood, which in the excitement of an untried exhibition, had rushed to the head and the heart of the speaker and scattered his thoughts, soon retreated to run again in its naturel channals, and a restored circulation enabled him to give free utterance to the forcible and convincing argu- ments and conceptions of a rich and unrivaled intellect. The soul, relieved of fear and pressure, poured forth a ilood of liv- ing eloquence, and when the scene closed and the curtain dropped, the victory was complete and overwhelming. The wrapped and listening fathers of the party lavished on the young orator their most grateful praise and all their congratu- lations, and the great multitude that heard him — full of ad- miration and frenzied with joy and delight — seized the cart on which he was still standing, and, with loud and deafening shouts of applause, drew the new born object of their political idolatry in triumph, through the streets of the city. When we remember how often it happens that the course and the labors of a long life are shaped and permanently in- fluenced, by the accidental events of a day or even an hour of time, we may readily believe that the destiny of our great friend and all his subsequent glory and public usefulness were created and adjusted in the incidental display we ha\ 'just re- counted. To suppose him insensible to the renown he had suddenly and causually achieved, would be to deny him the most honorable and commendable pride that can animate the human soul. We should stand too, in equal disregard ot the proofs of the strong emotions that dwell within our own bosoms, to imagine, that, with a modest an 1 anboasted con- sciousness of his own powers, and with all the unexpected laurels of that day thick clustering around his youthful bro I . he could have rashly determined to withhold himself from public promotion anil all the exalted honors that follow in train. He might have reasoned with himself, we admit, and. under the pressure of want, or, the plea of previous obl._ tions, he might have had the resolution to check and posl the tempting aspiration. But under less powerful ; more temperate ambition has not always been proof against its own yearnings, or against the flattering compliments and solicitations of the world; and it would have been a deplorable exception, indeed, if the illustrious object of tl ilemn funeral rite3 — warm hearted, generous, brave, great and confid as he was, and full of patriotism and love of country — had [12 resisted the seductive allurements of place and station, and passed his long and lengthened years in the privacy of do- mestic life. Happier and more blessed and contented by far, we admit, he might have been — but, who — in the name behalf of this great people and of all coming posterity, we ask it — who else of his day and generation could have boi his heavy armor or filled the wide place he occupied in the hearts of that people and in the difficult counsels of the I public? Let a Nation answer. But, whatever his reasons, his desires or his motives may have been, we know that Henry Clay entered on his political life at an early age, and soon after he had passed through the ordeal we just described. We know, too, that after an almost uninterrupted public service of nearly the half of a long cen- tury, he died, near his post at Washington, in full panoply, and in the bright blaze of all his own greatness and glory. A short but active apprenticeship of several sessions in the 1. igislature of his State — where he soon distinguished him- self, and where, on his last return he received the honors of the Speaker's chair — opened his way to Congress; and we find him, as soon as tie- number of his years had removed a con- stitutional disability, seated in the Senate of the United States, and participating in the counsels of that august and imposing assembly. Subsequently called by his State to the same ex alted station — on both occasions to till short vacancies — he could in his own good pleasure, have been continued in that elevated office; but. in 1811, the doubtful and threatening re- lations of our Government with the British crown, and the strong probability of a rupture with that Power, turned his ambition into a d nt channel, and tie Bought in the House of Representatives, a field of public labor more ar but mot lial with his temper and disposition, and »more suited in a practical exercise of the talents he ha 1 ao patriotic- ally resolved to devote to the vindication and support of an injured and insulted country. Thither, then, Mr. Clay was returned by the people of his district in the 34th year of lu- and though it was ids first appearance in a Legislative assembly, full of veteran mem- bers ai.d dignified with the collected wisdom of the Union, i was chosen by a large majority to preside over its delibet tions. What but tin- reputation that preceded him, could ha commanded so great a tribute, and what but the most indis- putable personal worth and excellence, accompanied a adorned by the highesl intellectual endowments, could ha accomplished such rare and earl\ fame? Nor was the enviable distinction, thus first conferred, ever afterwards seriou>h contested or withheld from our illustrious friend whilst he remained a member of the House of Repre- sentatives. His commission -seven times renewed and com- [13] mcnsurate with his whole service there — was only interrupt when important foreign duties, or domestic necessity with- drew him, temporarily, from his seat in that body, and only terminated when, in view of other and more responsible politi- cal engagements, hegave a final adieu to a branch of Govern- ment where he had labored long and with constant fidelity, and from the individual mi 3 of which he had recei many evidences of friendship and so many tokens of profound confidence and veneration. They reckon, indeed, without knowledge or reflection, who suppose that the important and responsible oliice to which our last remarks allude, can be easily executed, and may. there- fore, be coveted by men of moderate abilities and short i perience in the rules of business and decorum that guide and govern in all deliberative assemblies. The Speaker's chair — though cushioned it may be, and curtained with richest silks — is not a bed of roses or a place of rest and repose. To the successful administration of its varied duties, the occupant must bring the help of as many varied and rare qualifications; and in this respect no man was ever more eminently endow- ed than the great and unrivalled Speaker of our text. never mingled arrogance with authority, but wa 1 in his place without being vain or magisterial in his manner- kindly instructed the ignorant — be corrected good men with a bow and a smile, and in that way blunted the sting of a pain- ful but necessary reproof — he checked the turbulent by his stern and unshaken firmness — he always knew the business i t the House, and he knew, too, how to hurry and despatch it without, vexing or offending a laggard — when lie left chair he threw behind him the gavel and the mace, and joi in plain or playful converse and association with all around him, so that by his person and manner a Btranger could n< t distinguish the great speaker from his clerk or his door '.. In this way, and by a constant pr equity and 1 .-deal- ing, he won a confiding dominion over the hearts of men of all parti, I was thereby enabled thi ut all his lengthened presidency and in til I political citement, to preserve such order in the House aa v before excelled and has never sin [ualed. It ited of him, that being questioned by a ; ment of a social evening party where I feast had unwittingly led I a to en rn- ing hours, ''how he could p; he sportively replied, '■come up and you shall s J will throw the reins on their necks." But the enlarged and commanding mind that so happily accomplished the useful and important objects we have j portrayed, could not be content to sit in inglorio and maintain the good order of an assembly of men without [14] deavoring to infuse wisdom into their deliberation?, and aid- ing in an attempt to guide and influence their thoughts and decisions. Hence, therefore, Mr. Clay did not. at any time, during hi.- long presidency over the House of Representatn confine himself to the duties and details of the chair: nor did he withhold his voice or his exhortations in the eventful strug- gle through which the nation was then passing. Eloquent in speech, and powerful in argument — persuasive— ardent and brave, but always loyal to the constitution and to the honor and best enterests of his country, — he entered eagerly into all the counsels and public discussions of that memorable epoch, and, in his deeds and his labors, reared a monument to his own fame which time can never alter or obliterate. Born to com- mand, and esteeming the point of danger to be the post of honor, he chose that point, and was ever foremost in the strife, and the bitter conflicts of the day. He fought in one battle to harden himself for the perils and fatigues of another, and, sword in hand, he stood either at the weak place of his defences, or was found heading his friends in a desperate assault on the works and the strong positions of the adver- sary, lie knew no rest whilst there was an armed foeman in the' field; nevertheless, he loved peace if it could be had on safe, just and allowable terms, and he would, in the din and wild outcry of the combat, turn the hilt of his sword to the enemy and imploringly show the olive branch that humanely ornated its glitl point. It was thus that the "great pacificator" rescued the Republic in the fearful struggle for the admission of the State of Missouri into our Union, and gain- ed lo himself more than the proud honors of the "mural eath." Nor will he be without his reward— the only reward a true patriot ever asks or < jcpects- for, although the witnesses of a day when "the blackness of darkness" bung over the broad land, are f. ling away and there will soon now be none left to recount its alarms, yet history — true to its office— will keep the. eternal record, and its pages will weave unfading garlands for the brow of the statesman, who. by his fraternal mediations, his < loquence, and his civic valor, achieved a bloodless triumph for his country, saving by the deed, the Union of these States, and. with it, our only high t ture national glory, and the last hope b rth- ly refuge el' human liberty. It is n be the President of the Nation and the whole Nation, and not the leader of any party, or of any fraction, or any fracl division of that Nation, was able — if he had any prevf doubts — to unlearn and overcome the prejudices of place a [20] education — to forget or disregard the influences and nil the ties and tender associations of life, and boldly stand forward the defender of the constitution, and in his high place there the preserver of our happy and ever glorious Union. His great reward is, we know, in "the answer of a good consci before God and the world. But he bears with this pleasing reflection, the superadded gratitude and. applause of all j^ood and virtuous of his own generation; and when the-e, and aliii . hall have passed away and gone into the oblivion ; the deep eternity of the grave, the historic record — flour- ishing in the bright and never-fading verdure of youth — shall still chronicle the renown we now proclaim, and the pro marble of Millard standing side by side with the statues of Clay, of Web , shall adorn the great halls and temples which— in all coming time — posterity will not fail to erect and dedicate to the def< nders ofthe constitution 1 the illustrious fathers oft! R public. But we have already drawn this address beyond its intended limits, and with our grateful thanks lor the honorable position assigned us Ijy our fellow-citizens on this melancholy occasion, we hasten to thi of our mournful labors. The successful passage of the compromise acts in the fall of 1850, closed, forever, the active political labors i : \i>v Clay— and it was lit. indeed and meet that so great a man should close his toils with the elo^e of a seem and so imposing. Stricken with yi suffering too, as we ha\ stated, under the infirmities of age, and prostrated, unto sickness, by the excitement and the exhausting fatigues of his last field of glory, he felt, too truly, that he had fatally overtaxed the >le powers id' his body, and wisely thought to prepare him- self by times, for the summon-- which, he could not help believ- . woidd soon call him to tic me appointed for all the living, lie had already made open profession of faith in the blood and sacrifice oi* a Redeemer; and having devoutly Tendered his heart and all his soul to the religion oi the bible, it only remained for him, in tin- few fleeting momenl time before him, to observe and practice all its holy precepts, and to look alone to the atonement of the cross for that heavenly pea lation which all the vain and ti;. tory honors of the world can neither give nor take away. ified in his own reflections by tin- opinions and the advice of his medical friends, he determined to si lief and an amelioration of his condition, by relaxation from all thought of public affairs; ami, accordingly, taking leave ofthat body in whose counsels his mighty voice was destined n< ain to be heard, he travelled by waj of the North, and, in md circuitous marches, finally reached his own home, [21] whence, on the approach of the present session of congr; he returned, weak and enfeebled, to hi- place at Washington. Alas! for all the hopes and prayers of his friends, "the angel of death awaited him at the gates of the city", and a few rapid months drew up the curtain that concealed life from immortality, and manifested to his iirm vision the realities of an eternal world. A soft and gradual decay of the vital powers, unaccom- panied by any protracted acute pain, gently and kindly cut the strong ligaments that chained his soul to its "mortal coil,'" and his great spirit, joyously bounding away from its earthly prison, soared aloft to Heaven, and unto the God who gave it. 31 i:\ry Clay, the great, the wise, the virtuous, the incorrupt, and incorruptible patriot — he is no more, and a nation mourns his departure! lie fell like a sere and yellow leaf in autumn — like ripe grain in time of harvest! lie is gone where we must all go — for life is but a dream — in all its various estate- a fleeting shadow! The poor die and sink to a neglected grave — the rich die and go to the sepulchre, clothed in linen and rich silks and are remembered by the costly marble that marks the resting place of their ashes. "The tall, the wise, the reverend head* 1 — they too, must all die, and follow in the long and countless train that constantly trends to that undiscovered country from whose "bourne no traveller returns." The bna«t of heraldry — the pomp of power, And all that beauty, nil that wealth ere guve, Await alike the inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave. The Sage of Ashland — the Statesman of mankind — the Orator of his age! He is no more! Great in life, sublime in the last struggle, and happy in his exit! "He gave bis honors to the world — , His bitted part to Heaven." Our tears bedew his fresh grave, and our children, and our childrens children shall rise up in their generations and c< brate the virtues of the patriot who — nobly refusing to sacri- fice the honest convictions of his mind for the sake of power and station — magnanimously declared that he "had rather be right than be President." IP* ■ ill LIBRARY OF CONGRESS I I 006 096 904 8