■•{iiiJa ii'j'.'i 5ij_ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS DDDDS75flnfl iiial^^ J^^K " r|n8s ''itit!fcfl& v-^ -W.* ,/"X'' ^■Jsv ^f.*" .0 r *. ^v. '**^- ^^^' A 0- •* ^ ^ °* i^*,* >'■ Ov -^ .^ -^ 0* 6 • • • **. ■^ c>- ..j.:^'.. • • / . '^;^ I -» ■ '. ■ •« ^19 ^. v<«'V»^fj^,.^,/^» AJt % EULOGY ON THE tlFE AND SERVICES OP HENRY CLAY, DELIVERED IN THE HALL OF THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, October II, 1852, BY U. S. A. ALEXANDER K. M'CLUNG, ESQ. PUBLISHED BY ORDER OF THE LEGISLATURE, '^JACKSON: PALMER & PICKETT, STATE PRINTEPvS. 1852. CORRESPONDENCE. Jackson, October 13tii, 1852. Col Alex. K. McClung :— Dear Sir: In common "with the immense audience in attendance, wo listened last night with great pleasure to your eulogy, upon the lile and character of Henry Clay. Appreciating your address, as a just and eloquent criticism upon the life and character of the great deceased, we met to request a copy for publication. In this, however, we find ourselves forestalled, by a resolution of the House of Representatives, passed this morning. We presume it would be gratifying to you that we should defer to tlii most complimentary, and unusual legislative action in this matter, and beg leave to subscribe ourselves. Very truly and respectfully, yotir ob't serv'ts., A.BURWELL, W. R. MILES, D. R. LEMMAN, T. J. WHARTON, B. YANDELL, J. D. ELLIOT. Onnmlttec Jackson, October 13tii, 16j2. Coi. A. K. McClung:— Dear Sir: The undersigned, who have been appointed a j<.int select committee under a resolution of the Senate and House of Representatives, of the Legislature of the State of Mississippi, to solicit from you, for publi- cation, a copy of the eulogy, delivered by yourself, in the Hall of the Houso of Representatives; on the evening of the 11th inst., on the life and servi- 6 CCS of the illustrious statesman, Henry Clay,--in the discharge of the pleas- ing duty devolved upon us, respectfully solicit a copy of your address. With the assurance of the high appreciation of ourselves, and of the bodies we represent, of your very powerful and eloquent address, We are, respectfully, D. W. ADAMS, HOWELL HINDS, SIMEON OLIVER, P. B. STARKE, GEO. S. GOLLADAY, J. H. R. TAYLOR, MORGAN McAFEE, THOS J. CATCHINGS, P. S. CATCHING. C. DEAVOURS. Committee on part of Senate. Committee of House of Representat toes. Jackson, October 13th, 1852. Gentlemen : I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of yesterday, requesting a copy of the speech I delivered on Monday last, upon the life and character of Henry Clay. I send to you at once the copy requested. I return to yourselves, gentlemen, and to the body of the Legis- lature whom you represent, my grateful thanks for the most unusual com- pliment conveyed by their action, and for the flattering terms in which that action is expressed. I have the honor to be, gentlemen, your ob't serv't. ALEX. K. McCLUNG. Messrs. Howell Hinds, P. B. Starke, Jas. H. R. Taylor, Thos. J. Catchings, and C. Deavours. Committee of the House of Representatives. Messrs. D. W. Adams, Simeon Oliver, Geo. S. Golladay, Morgan McAfee, and P. S. Catching. Committee on part of Senate. ORATION. Ladies and Gentlemen : We have met to commemorate tlie life and services of HENRY CLAY. After a long life, — after a long, useful and illustrious career, — lie has passed away. Tlie liery and aspiring spirit, whose earthly life was one long storm, iias at length sunk to rest. Neither praise nor censure can now reach him. When his haughty soul passed away from the earth, and the grave closed over his dust, it also entombed in its dark and narrow chamber the bitterness of detraction, and the tiger ferocity of party spirit, with which lie liad so long wrestled. Death has hallowed his name and burnished his services bright in the memory of his countrymen. We have met to express, in the manner which the custom of our country has established, our appreciation of tliose ser- vices and our sense of his glory. We have met, not as ])arti- sans or friends, — political or personal, — of the illustrious dead, but as Americans, desirous to do honor to a great American. In attempting to discharge the duty which has l^een im- posed upon me, I shall avoid the indiscriminate eulogy which is the proverbial blemish of obituaries and funeral discourses, and sliall essay, however feebly, to present Mr. Clay as he was, or, at least, as he seemed to me. Great be- ings, — grand human creatures, — scattered sparsely tlnougli- out time, should be painted with truth. An indiscriminate deluge of praise drowns mediocrity and greatness in the same grave, where none can distinguisli between tliem. When the greatest of all Englishmen, Oliver Cromwell, sat to the painter, Lely, for his portrait, whose pencil was addict- ed to flattery, he said; " Paint me as I am ; leave not out one wrinkle, scar or blemish, at your peril."' He wislied to go to the world as he was; and greatness is wise in wishing it. 8 No man the world ever saw was equally great in every quality of intellect and in every walk of action. All men are unequal ; and it is tasteful, as well as just, to plant the praise where it is true, rather than to drown all individuality and all character in one foaming chaos of eulogy. Henry Clay was most emphatically a peculiar and strongly marked character; incomparably more peculiar than any of those who were popularly considered his mental equals. Impetuous as a torrent, yet patient to gain his ends ; overbear- ing and trampling, yet winning and soothing ; haughty and fierce, yet kind and gentle ; dauntlessly brave in all kinds of courage, yet eminently prudent and conservative in all his policy, — all these moral attributes, antithetical as they seem, would shine out under difierent phases of his conduct. I need not detain this audience with a lengthened biogra- phical sketch ol Mr. Clay. The leading historical incidents of his life are universally known. He was born in Virginia, certainly not later than 1775, most probably a year or two earlier. His parentage was extremely humble. At the age of twenty, twenty-one or twenty-two, he emigrated to Lex- ington, Kentucky, where he undertook to pursue the great American road to eminence, — the bar. For this career, it w^ould have seemed at that time, that his advantages w^ere small, indeed. Young, poor and unconnected, with scarcely ordinary attainments of education, he entered the lists with numerous and able competitors. Yet, Henry Clay, destitute, as he was, of all adventitious advantages, was not destined to struggle upward along the weary and laborious path through which mediocrity toils to rank. The cedar imbedded in bar- ren rocks, upon the mountain side, with scarcely soil to feed its roots, will tower above the tallest of the forest ; for it is its nature so to do. So this great Genius at once shot up like a shaft. He rose to high rank at the bar. In 1799 he was elected to the Kentucky legislature; in 1806 to the V. S. Senate; in 1811 to the House of Representatives ; and there began his national career. Since that time, Mr. Clay has filled a large space in the public eye. His career has been checkered, stormy, and tempestuous. Now the ob- ject of universal praise ; now attacked with very general censure ; now culminating upon the crest of fortune's wave ; then dashed upon the rocks and overwhelmed with roar and clamor. It was his fate al periods of his career to drain to the bottom that measure of relentless hate with which mean souls resent tlie imperial pride of haughty genius. It was his fate to feel that constant success is the only sliield wliicli greatness and glory can rear against the poison of envy and slanders venomous sting. Pie who ascends to mountain's tops, sliall find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow. He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below, Though high above the sun of glory glow, And far beneath are earth and ocean'spread, Around him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head, Thus to reward the toils which to those sunnnlts led. That strong mind was tried l)y every extremity of for- tune, and if sometimes inflated by success, yet borne up ])y the all deathless thirst for renown, the grand incentive to all great toils o^r glorious deeds, he was never depr^sed b}- defeat. He faced his enemies, he faced fortune, and lie faced defeat, with the same dauntless heart, and the same unquailing brow, in youth and in age, regardless when or how they came, or what the peril might be. Yet wlien most overborne with calumny; when hatred raged fiercest against his person; and he was most stained with slander, — even at that time, to enemies as to friends, he was an object of ad- miring respect. When lashed into fury by disappointment, defeat and opposition, and the stormy passions of liis tem- pestuous soul raged like a whirlwind, liis bitterest opponent*^ would gaze curiously upon him witli a strange mixture of hatred, fear and admiration. There are many phases in Avliich it is necessary to regard Mr. Clay, to reach a correct estimate of his character: and to accomplish their delineation Avithout a degree of jumbling confusion, is a work ofsomedifhculty. As an orator, lie was brilliant and grand. None of his contemporaries could so stir men's blood. None approached him in liis masterv over the heart and the imagination of his hearers. Of all the gifts with which nature decks her favorites, not tlie great- est or grandest certainly, but tlie most brilliant, tlie most fascinating, and for the moment the most powerful, is exalted elocjuence. Before its fleeting and brief glare, the steady light of wisdom, logic or philosophy pales, as the stars fade before the meteor. With this choice and glorious gift nature had endowed Mr. Clay beyond all men of the age. Like all natural orators, he was very unequal; sometimes sinking to commonplace mediocrity, then again, when tlie occasion • 10 roused his genius, he would soar aloft in towering majesty. He had little or none of the tinsel of Rhetoric, or the wordy finery which always lies within the reach of the Rhetorician's art. Strong passions, quick sensibility, lofty sentiment, pow- erful reason, were the foundation of his oratory, as tliey are of all true eloquence. Passion, feeling, reason, wit, poured forth from his lips in a torrent so strong and inexhaustible, as to whirl away his hearers for the time in despite of their opinions. Nor should it be forgotten, slight and unimportant as physical qualities may appear in our estimate of the mighty dead, that his were eminently fitted for the orator. A tall, slen- der, erect person, changing under the excitement of speech its loose ttaccidity of muscle into the most vigorous and nerved energy ; an eye small, indeed, but deep and bonily set, and flaming with expression; and last and most impor- tant of all, a voice deep, powerful, mellow and ricli, beyond expression, — rich is a feeble phrase to express its round, articulate fullness, rolling up with the sublime swell of the organ, — all these together formed wonderlul aids to elo- quence. And his great and numerous triumphs attest their power. He had the true mesmeric stroke of the orator, — the power to infuse his feelings into his hearers; to make them think as he thought, and feel as he felt. No one can form any adequate conception of the power of his eloquence, who has not heard Mr. Clay when his blood was up, and the tide of inspiration rolling full upon him. His words indeed might be written down ; but the flame of mind which sent them forth red hot and blazing from its mint, could not be conveyed by letters. As well attempt to paint the lightning. The crooked, angular line may be traced ; but the glare, and the flame and the roar and the terror, and the electric flash, are gone. Stormy, vehement and tempestuous as were his passions and his oratory, there was still underneath them all, a cool stream of reason, running through the bottom of his brain, wiiich always pointed him to his object, and held him to his course. No orator, so passionate, ever committed fewer imprudencies. No passions so stormy ever left their possessor so watchful of his objects. Reason held the helm while passion blew the gale. As a debater, it would not be just to say that Mr. Clay held the same rank ; at least it may be said with justice, that in all the walks of debate he was not equally eminent. He was able everywhere ; and it is but gentle criticism to say, that in some trains of thought he did not shine forthwith the power 11 and lustre which marked his eloquence. It a])pears to me, after a critical study of his speeches, that lie discussed facts" with as much power as any of his greatest rivals. It a}>- pears to me also, tliat he fell beneath some of tliem in the discussion of principles. One of the gr^'atest of his com- peers taunted him once in the Senate with an inal)ility to analyze abstruse subjects. The taunt was made strongei, probably, by anger, than truth or candor would wai-vant : yet it seems to me to have been partially just. No one wIkj studies Mr. Clay's arguments upon points of political economy, can avoid perceiving how rarely he analyzes tlie luinoiple in- volved. We see a vast array of facts, many keen and thoughtful remarks about the results of the me;isure, Imt an analysis of its principle is scarcely ever attem]>ted. He doubtless understood the protective tariff system better tliau lie did any other subject in the range of i)olitical economy : and no one can read his speeclies upon that question witliout being struck with this feature. It is still more marked w^henever he discusses the subject of linance. A philos«jphic discussion of a principle, independent of the practical con- dition of things, is never to be found in his speeches; and in this he presented a most pointed contrast to his creat rival, who so short a time preceded him to the grave. It may be said that this was the result of imperfect education, and the barely hasty study which a bus}^, stirring life enabled him to be- stow upon abstruse subjects; but the better o]»inion seems to be that he was eminently a practical man, and the bent of his genius called him away from the metaphysics of pol- itics. ^^- Mr. Clay was undou!)tedly a far greater man, than the Scotch economist, Adam Smith ; yet it is not prol 'able that any extent of education, or any amount of labor, or any length of study, would have ena].)led him to write Adam Smith's book. Yet was he a very great debater, also. None of his compeers arrayed facts more skillfully, — none urged them with so much power. He had not tlie compact, clean cut, sententious brevity, Avhich marked some of those the public ranked as his equals; on the contrar}-, without being diffuse, he abounded in episodes; he introduced umch matter bearing upon his point, certainly, but l.u\uing upon it indirectly,— not unfrequently, also, introducing matter which did not much help on tlie question in hand. He abounded in the argumentum ad hominum, in personal ap- peal, in sarcasm, with much of personal allusion andcircuin- stantial explanation, often carrying him away Itoiu his sub- f 12 ject for some time, to which however, he always returned at precisely the point where he had left it. It is difficult, among the great masters of oratory and debate, to select one whom he closely resembled. It is not probable that he had ever studied any of them closely ; and even had he done so, the originality ofhis genius and the in- tense pride of his haughty temper would have prevented him from stooping to select a model. If he resembled any of them, he did not know it, and he would have cared as little to abolish the points of resemblance as to make them. To Demosthenes, to whom he has been often compared, he bore a likeness in his passion, his intensity, and in his occa- sional want of logic ; but he was utterly unlike him in other respects. He had none ofhis terseness, his nakedness and the straight forward, unhalting directness with which he dashed on to his end. To Cicero he bore no resemblance whatever. Among the eminent English speakers it would be almost as difficult to trace with him a parallel, in any considerable degree exact or close. The profound philoso- phy of Burke, with his gorgeous, lurid and golden language, rolling on with the pomp and power of an army blazing with banners, he in no degree approaclied. Sheridan's bright and pungent style, glittering with antithesis and point, was equally unlike him. I am inclined to think that of all the speakers I have read, though with less of logic and wit, and more of passion, he most resembled Charles Fox. The same rigid adherence actually to his point, even when seem- ing to be away from it ; tlie same abundance and exuberance of matter ; the same gladiatorial struggle to strike down his opponent, though the victory might slightly affect the ques- tion involved ; the same felicitous blending of passion and logic, with sparkles of sarcasm and personality spangling the whole, — all produced strong points of resemblance, not to be traced with any other orator. To all these eminent merits as a speaker, was united a profound knowledge of men, of their motives and of their weaknesses. Though it may be that in the early part of his life, he had learned but little from books, yet amid the frank, bold and reckless pioneers which formed Kentucky's early population, where the man stood forth in all the ori- ginality and nakedness of liis nature, and amid the stormy scenes of the hustings in wiiich he was early plunged, he had gained that quick insight into the human lieart, which in practical life goes fartlier to attain success than reams of t reading. He knew men thoroughly, and not only knew how^, but possessed the magnetic power to bend them to his purposes. There is probably no position in lifewhicli recjulres such . a combination of rare and high qualities as tliat ul'a great popular leader. He must be bold and prudent, promjtt and patient, stern and conciliating, captivating, coimnanchng, farseeing, and above all, brave to perfection! The lirst man in the nation, the first in power, undcmbtedly, wliatever may be his place, is the leader of the administration, be he in Congress or the Cabinet, President, or private. Tlie leader of the opposition can hardly be called the second man in rank or power, but if his party be strong and struiriiling, his position is one of great strength, and enables him, tlivomise when at first the eft'ort seemed hopeless; and that Tw^'a passage for his bank bills in 1832 aucl '4 with a minority of supporters in the first instance, and with an un- certain, hesitating, unreliable majority m the last. He was patient too, and could bide his time. In 1840, intestine commotion first appeared in his party, and he tirst met formidable and organized resistance to his will. He had for years fought out every campaign, as the leader ol the opposition ; his tactics had been brilliant, dexterous and admirable. The party in power was broken f ^wn, and he thought he saw himself close upon the long delayed fruition of all his hopes, i The bright crown of glory which had so lon^ glittered befere his eyes, but to elude his grasp, was now within his reach. But another was selected to wear, when he had won it. Another was chosen to reap the harvest, which he had worked and watched, and tended. Then, for the first time, he met, what he felt to be, rebel- lion in his camp. Then, for the first time, he saw his stand- ard deserted. His own appreciation of the services he had rendered his party, was strong and intense; and under so crushing a blow, i fiery, impetuous man might be expected to commit some imprudence. Doubtless, his heart beat thick with a sense of injustice, and his blood boiled m re- sentment. Yet he betrayed nothing of it, at least, not m public. The great party leader knew how to bide his time. He bowed gracefully to the decision, threw himselt coi- dially into the movement, and was still the recognized cUiei of the host which mustered under the banner of anotiiei. His was the power behind the throne, greater than tne 17 iroiie itself. Four years aiterwards, lie reaped tlie fruit ol his prudence and his patience. He was supported witli zeal and unanimity by those, wlio before had struck him down, and certainly nothing but the mine wliicli was so suddenly sprung beneath liis feet, prevented his triumph. After a close and most desperate struggle, he fell again, and* apparently for ever. Yet, even after this ai>])arently'linal blow, another effort was made, which most strikingl}' illus- trates his character, and displayed upon a broad ground his prodigious power over men, and his buoyant, ^ contident, sanguine, unbreakable spirit. When he was struck down in 1844, it seemed that his race was run. His defeats had been so numerous and continued, he had been so long in the public eye, he was so far advanced in years, the rivals of Iiis middle age, Adams, Jackson, Crawford, had all passed away, and he seemed to be of a former generation. The public heart felt that his career was closed. The old make way for the young, and a new race had arisen. Taylor's victories had arrested the public mind, and the veteran statesman of Ashland, was forgotten ; yet, he attempted to stem the tide of victory in the very fullness of its power. His control over men w^as so prodigious, he bestirred him- self so vigorously, he struck so hard and true to his mark, that, with most of his close friends directly conunitted against him, and in spite of tlie general sense of the public, he scarcely failed to win. None but a spirit as dauntless as his own, would have dared the struggle. None but a power so great, could have made it. As a statesman, undoubtedly, Mr. Clay was entitled to the very highest rank among all his contemporaries. It has been generally conceded, that his learning was not profound or various. Of science, in its limited sense, he knew but little, and of the lighter and less important branches of study and accojnplishment, still less. It is said, that he cared notliing for literature, had never searched deej'lv into liistory ; and it is remarkable, tliat thougli at one time a minister abroad, and tor four years as Secretary of State, in constant relations and intercourse with foreio;n envoys of every nation, he spoke no language ])ut his own. Eut Jic knew thoroughly that ivhich it most imported him to know. He was profoundly versed in the theory and practices of our own government, and in a knowledge of the powers of each branch of it. He knew intimately and to the bottom, the coDnection^ political and commercial of America with all 18 other nations. He knew perfectly the relation wliich each part of the country bore to the other and he understood i.rofoundly the character, genius and wants of the American V)eoi)le. There was nothing sectional in his policy. His iroad and comprehensive genius held in its vision the inter- est of tlie wliole nation, and his big American heart tJirobbed for it all. He was intensely American in all his tliouglits and all Ms feelings. To cherish the interest and the glory, and.to build up the power of his country and his wliole country, was the aim of all his policy and the pas- sion of liis life. No candid reader, who may study his career, can deny, that on all great occasions, he was not only ])urely patriotic, but eminently self-sacrificing. Far brigliter examples of this patriotic spirit, will at once occur to all who are familiar with his career ; but at this moment, I will only allude to the instances in which he took ground upon Kentucky state politics, which I cited as examples of his unhesitating boldness, wiien I was discussing his charac- ter as a party leader. Like all other true statesmen, his ideas were all relative, not absolute. He was in no degree a man of one idea. He was not wedded peremptorily and at all hazards to any measure, or any principle. He under- stood the policy of a nation, not as a fixed mathematical tlieorem, where under all circumstances and at all times, every result but one must be wrong ; but as the practical science of fitting measures to the occasion, to necessity, and to the times. The best practical good which could be se- cured, was his aim, and under some circumstances, he w^ould maintain, what, under a different condition of affairs, he would oppose. Without discussing the philosophical sound- ness of his political economy, or the correctness of all his measures, it may be stated, with truth, that, in them all, he looked to the integrity and independence, political and commercial, of the nation. The energy of his support of it, jrave to him tlie rank of the champion of the protective tariff policy, though it was established before he came into ])olitical life : and his arguments in its favor, principally turn upon tlie maintenance ot the commercial independence of the country. Yet, he was not wedded to it ; and when its continuance menaced danger to the country, he himself led the way in pulling it down. Tlie monument to his memory upon the Cumberland road, bears testimony to his eftbrts in behalf of national works of mternal improvement. He was also the author 19 of some important, and of some great and vital measures. He originated the scheme for the distribution among the States, of the public lands ; he was the author of the Mis- souri compromise, and of the adjustment of the last stormy agitation of the slavery subject. These three measures were his own. They were struck off in the mint of his own mind. The first of these measures must be criticised, both as the movement of a party leader and a statesman, and with regard to the conclition of things at the time, to un- derstancl its real merit, and to deal justice to its author. Shortly after the revolution, in the magnanimous spirit of that immortal age, the States ceded the lands to the general government, as a security for the payment of the national debt. That debt was nearly satisfied, when Mr. Clay's measure was devised, and the treasury was overflowing with revenue. It was the general sense of all parties, that the land fund should be withdraAvn from the current support of the general government ; and Congress was overrun with schemes to squander it. Some of the States asserted the monstrous heresy of a title to all, within their limits, by right of their sovereignty. Propositions for grants to States, companies and individuals were rife in each hall, and, pro- bably, by no other movement would it have been possible to rescue and preserve, for the benefit of the Union, that inimense fund from squandering dissipation. Considered without reference to the scliemes of abandonment, which it was necessary to oppose, the measure does not appear to be founded on philosophical soundness and policy. In the United States, we have two circles of government, with a common constituency. The State and Federal governments' are organs of the same people. Tliey have separate and distinct poAvers, different circles and measures of autliority and action, but a common, and the same constituency. Both governments are mere abstractions, while the living, breath- ing power, is tlie people and the same people. The same men are citizens of one government and the other. The same people bear the burden, pay the revenue, and enjoy the benefits of them both. Both governments are ideal existences, artificial organs of one common master. There- fore, it does not appear, when abstractly considered, to be sound or philosophical statesmanship, to give to the people, through one organ, a portion of the public revenue, when the same people will be compelled to pay it back again in a different sliape to the other. It seems to be shifting a trea- r 20 . sure iroiii one pocket to the other, with some loss on the ^'^Bufcoiisidered as a movement to prevent that great iund from beina- squandered, it was the stroke of a statesman, anu as the tactics of a party leader the conception was most dex- terous The country was upon the eve of a presidential election, and the disposition of the land fund was to the can- didates a most perilous and embarrassing c^uestion. Mr. Clav's opponents in the Senate, constituting a majority, deter- mined to complicate him with tlie subject, and m spite of the •emonstrances and votes of himsell andliis friends they reler- I'ed it to tlie committee upon Manufactures, of which he was chairman,— the last committee in the House to which the subject was appropriate and germain. This disposal oi the subject, unjust as it was, compelled him to take it up. li he favored or opposed any of the numerous grants for various purposes, somewhere in the nation, loss to hmi would en- sue If he favored the proposition to cede tlie lands t^ tlie new States, he disgusted the old. If he opposed it, he ottend- ed the new. But the invention of the old party leader came to his rescue, and as his return blow, lie conceived tne counterstroke of a distribution among all the States. On the two other great occasions, when sectional excite- ment shook the Union to its centre, to which I have reierred, he appeared as a mediator. He was the author of the Missouri Compromise, and of the adjustment measures of the stormy session of 1850. The completely relative cast ol all his political ideas, the total al >sence Irom his character ot ianaticism upon any opinion or principle, eminently htted him for a mediator, and upon all dangerous questions lie always acted that part. Whenever conflicting interests or opinions menaced the integrity of the Union, lie stood lortJi as the harbinger and tlie champion of peace and conciliation. He saw the wretched condition of the miserable httle repub- lics of South America, feeble, demorahzed and contempti- ble at war with each other, trampled upon by every Euro- pean power, and despised by the world : he was a meni- ber of a great nation; he loved his country and his whole country, from North to South, from the big lakes to tlie gulf, from ocean to ocean, from the sunrise to the sunset, and every feeling of his heart, every thought of his brain, revolted at dismemberment. It is enough to say, in eulogy of tliose measures, and it should immortalize the great statesman \\1io conceived them, tliat both the great divis- 21 as a ill if ions of the American people have adopted tliem Loth part of tlieir political creed. Doubtless some portion of Ids iniiuence in tlie adjustiacni of tiiose perilous questions arose from the entirely modciatc and conservative cliaracter of his opinions upon tiiat suhiect and from the peculiarity ol his position. Jrle was a nativt- and a representative of a Slave State; lie had never lived any where else; and while untlincliingly true, at all times ana upon all points, to the rights of the Soutliern St.ite< yet he considered slavery as a great thou-li unavoidahk' eviV Jiut he was m no degree impassioned and blinded in re«--ard" to It. He looked at the subject calmly and witliout exnposed to slavery ; for liberty was the passion of his life. His own country and liis own countrymen were the first and the princii^al object in his thoug-hts and in his heart : but his broad and extended philanthropy eml>raced the world. , Even the degraded African slave, separated from his own Vrace by a wide and impassable gulf, found in him a well- wisher to his moral and mental elevation, when it could occur safely in a dilfereut land and another clime. Where- 2^ ever abroad, freedom found a votary, that votary met in him a champion. When Greece, the classic knd of Greece, — the fountain of refinement, the birthplace of eloquence and poetry, and liberty, — when Greece awoke from tlie long slumber of ages, and beat back the fading Crescent to its native East, — when Macedon at last called to mind the feats of her conquering boy, and the Spartan again struck in for the land which had bred him, in Henry Clay's voice the words of cheering rolled over the blue waters, from the far west, as the greeting of the New World to the Old. W^hen Mexico, and our sister republics of the extreme South, shook off the rotted yoke of the fallen Spaniard, and free- dom's face for one brief moment gleamed under the pale light of the Southern Cross, it was he who spoke out again to cheer and to rouse its champions. The regenerated Greek, the dusky Mexican, the Peruvian mountaineer, — all, who would strike one blow for liberty, found in him a friend and an advocate. His words of cheering swept over the plains of Marathon, and came ringing back from the peaks of the Andes. But that voice is now stilled, and his bright eye closed forever. He has gone from our midst, and the wailing of grief which rose from the nation, and the plumage of mourning which shrouded its cities, its halls and its altars, at- test his countrymen's sense of their loss. He has gone, and gone in glory. From us rises the dirge : with him floats the psean of triumph. By a beautiful decree and poetical justice of destiny, it was fated that the last effort of the Union's great champion should be made in behalf of the Union, in its last great extremity. He passed off the stage as became the Great Pacificator. His dying eftbrt was worthy of and appropriate to him. When the fountains of the great deep of the public mind were broken up, and the fierce pas- sions of sectional animosity tore over it, as the storms sweep over the ocean, it was from his voice that the words of soothing came forth, " Peace, be still." It was his last battle, and the gallant veteran lought it out with the power and the fire of his prime. The expiring light of life, though flickering in its last beams, blazed up to the fullness of its meridian lustre. There was no fading away of intellect, or gradual decay of body. Minds like his, and souls so fiery, are cased in frames of steel, and when they fall at last, they fall at once. The Union w^as not compelled to blush for the decay of the Union's great champion. Age had not crum- bled the stately dignity of his form, nor reduced his manly 23 intellect to the imbecility of a second cJiiklhood. He faded away into no feeble twilight ; he sunk down to no dim sun se but sprang out of life mthe briglit blaze of merilm lullness. He passed down into the valley of tJie ^liulr w of death with all his glory unclouded, with all his laSs Iresh and green around him. Not a spot obscures the lustre of his crest; not a sprig has been torn from his clKuJct '•The dead Douglas has won the field." His dvin- ear runt^ with the applause of his country, and the liosannas of a nZ tion s gratitude. Death has given to liim tlie emi .ire in tlie hearts of his countrymen, not fully granted to the livin- man,--and altliough it was not decreed tliat the first lioncrs ot the nation should await him, its last blessings will clus ter around his name. His memory needs no monument He wants no mausoleum of stone or marble to imin-ison iiis sacred dust. Let him rest amid the tokens of the Ireedom he so much loved. Let him sleep on, where the wlii.thn- ol the tameless winds,— the ceaseless roll of the murmui^ mg waters —the cliirping of the wild bird,— and all whicli speaks of Liberty, may chant his eternal lullaby. Peace be with thy soul, Henry Clay; may the earth lie hght upon you, and the undying laurel of glory grow ^reen over thv grave. " ^ ^ ^ j ^•. ; W 7S mtt i ;^'* o V J^: ^^^1: ^<^ O • f V" . ff « V t^' -V • / . . . « *Jj Jl* . • ■ • ♦ '^ ,.0 t • * ♦ ♦ ^ Jt* '^ » « BOOKBINDINC H '^ , ^^»^11^^ • ^^ * March *P" 19%^ | 4> ^ "J'^^BS'v ^ ^ 4 ttra iilrl m.vy,■■^'i iHr--- ij: .'■ M ^iiu--;;;j V.'.\: i: Til |in:-v 5i;=i •;:-:t yiif- :;iJ MHHii; t- ;\»