Chapter XV: Preface (13)

Not long before his death, having just returned from Kentucky, I bore to him a token of affection from his excellent wife. Never can I forget his appearance, his manner, or his words. After speaking of his family, his friends, and his country, he changed the conversation to his own future; and looking on me with his fine eye undimmed, and his voice full of its original compass and melody, he said, ‘I am not afraid to die, sir. I have hope, faith, and some confidence. I do not think any man can be entirely certain in regard to his future state, but I have an abiding trust in the merits and mediation of our Saviour.’ It will assuage the grief of his family to know that he looked hopefully beyond the tomb, and a Christian people will rejoice to hear that such a man, in his last hours, reposed with simplicity and confidence upon the promises of the gospel.

It is the custom, on occasions like this, to speak of the parentage and childhood of the deceased, and to follow him, step by step, through life. I will not attempt to relate even all the great events of Mr. Clay’s life, because they are familiar to the whole country, and it would be needless to enumerate a long list of public services which form a part of American history.

Beginning life as a friendless boy, with few advantages, save those conferred by nature, while yet a minor, he left Virginia, the state of his birth, and commenced the practice of law at Lexington, in Kentucky. At a bar remarkable for its numbers and talent, Mr. Clay soon rose to the first rank. At a very early age he was elected from the county of Fayette to the general assembly of Kentucky, and was the speaker of that body. Coming into the senate of the United States, for the first time, in 1806, he entered upon a parliamentary career, the most brilliant and successful in our annals. From that time he remained habitually in the public eye. As a senator, as a member of this house and its speaker, as a representative of his country abroad, and as a high officer in the executive department of the government, he was intimately connected for fifty years with every great measure of American policy. Of the mere party measures of this period, I do not propose to speak. Many of them have passed away, and are remembered only as the occasions for the great intellectual efforts which marked their discussion. Concerning others, opinions are still divided. They will go into history, with the reasons on either side rendered by the greatest intellects of the time.

As a leader in a deliberative body, Mr. Clay had no equal in America. In him, intellect, person, eloquence, and courage, united to form a character fit to command. He fired with his own enthusiasm, and controlled by his amazing will, individuals and masses. No reverse could crush his spirit, nor defeat reduce him to despair. Equally erect and dauntless in prosperity and adversity, when successful, he moved to the accomplishment of his purposes with severe resolution; when defeated, he rallied his broken bands around him, and from his eagle eye shot along their ranks the contagion of his own courage. Destined for a leader, he every where asserted his destiny. In his long and eventful life he came in contact with men of all ranks and professions, but he never felt that he was in the presence of a man superior to himself. In the assemblies of the people, at the bar, in the senate――every where within the circle of his personal presence, he assumed and maintained a position of preeminence.

But the supremacy of Mr. Clay, as a party leader, was not his only, nor his highest title to renown. That title is to be found in the purely patriotic spirit which, on great occasions, always signalized his conduct. We have had no statesman, who, in periods of real and imminent public peril, has exhibited a more genuine and enlarged patriotism than Henry Clay. Whenever a question presented itself actually threatening the existence of the union, Mr. Clay, rising above the passions of the hour, always exerted his powers to solve it peacefully and honorably. Although more liable than most men, from his impetuous and ardent nature, to feel strongly the passions common to us all, it was his rare faculty to be able to subdue them in a great crisis, and to hold toward all sections of the confederacy the language of concord and brotherhood.

Sir, it will be a proud pleasure to every true American heart to remember the great occasions when Mr. Clay has displayed a sublime patriotism――when the ill-temper engendered by the times, and the miserable jealousies of the day, seemed to have been driven from his bosom by the expulsive power of nobler feelings――when every throb of his heart was given to his country, every effort of his intellect dedicated to her service. Who does not remember the three periods when the American system of government was exposed to its severest trials; and who does not know that when history shall relate the struggle which preceded, and the dangers which were averted by the Missouri compromise, the tariff compromise of 1832, and the adjustment of 1850, the same pages will record the genius, the eloquence, and the patriotism of Henry Clay?

Nor was it in Mr. Clay’s nature to lag behind until measures of adjustment were matured, and then come forward to swell a majority. On the contrary, like a bold and real statesman, he was ever among the first to meet the peril, and hazard his fame upon the remedy. It is fresh in the memory of us all that, when lately the fury of sectional discord threatened to sever the confederacy, Mr. Clay, though withdrawn from public life, and oppressed by the burden of years, came back to the senate――the theatre of his glory――and devoted the remnant of his strength to the sacred duty of preserving the union of the states.

With characteristic courage he took the lead in proposing a scheme of settlement. But while he was willing to assume the responsibility of proposing a plan, he did not, with petty ambition, insist upon its adoption to the exclusion of other modes; but, taking his own as a starting point for discussion and practical action, he nobly labored with his compatriots to change and improve it in such form as to make it an acceptable adjustment. Throughout the long and arduous struggle, the love of country expelled from his bosom the spirit of selfishness, and Mr. Clay proved, for the third time, that though he was ambitious and loved glory, he had no ambition to mount to fame on the confusions of his country. And this conviction is lodged in the hearts of the people; the party measures and the party passions of former times have not, for several years, interposed between Mr. Clay and the masses of his countrymen. After 1850, he seemed to feel that his mission was accomplished; and, during the same period, the regards and affections of the American people have been attracted to him in a remarkable degree. For many months, the warmest feelings, the deepest anxieties of all parties, centered upon the dying statesman; the glory of his great actions shed a mellow lustre on his declining years; and to fill the measure of his fame, his countrymen, weaving for him the laurel wreath, with common hands, did bind it about his venerable brows, and send him, crowned, to history.

The life of Mr. Clay, sir, is a striking example of the abiding fame which surely awaits the direct and candid statesman. The entire absence of equivocation or disguise, in all his acts, was his master-key to the popular heart; for while the people will forgive the errors of a bold and open nature, he sins past forgiveness who deliberately deceives them. Hence Mr. Clay, though often defeated in his measures of policy, always secured the respect of his opponents without losing the confidence of his friends. He never paltered in a double sense. The country was never in doubt as to his opinions or his purposes. In all the contests of his time, his position on great public questions was as clear as the sun in a cloudless sky. Sir, standing by the grave of this great man, and considering these things, how contemptible does appear the mere legerdemain of politics! What a reproach is his life on that false policy which would trifle with a great and upright people! If I were to write his epitaph, I would inscribe, as the highest eulogy, on the stone which shall mark his resting-place, ‘Here lies a man who was in the public service for fifty years, and never attempted to deceive his countrymen.’

While the youth of America should imitate his noble qualities, they may take courage from his career, and note the high proof it affords that, under our equal institutions, the avenues to honor are open to all. Mr. Clay rose by the force of his own genius, unaided by power, patronage, or wealth. At an age when our young men are usually advanced to the higher schools of learning, provided only with the rudiments of an English education, he turned his steps to the west, and amidst the rude collisions of a border-life, matured a character whose highest exhibitions were destined to mark eras in his country’s history. Beginning on the frontiers of American civilization, the orphan boy, supported only by the consciousness of his own powers, and by the confidence of the people, surmounted all the barriers of adverse fortune, and won a glorious name in the annals of his country. Let the generous youth, fired with honorable ambition, remember that the American system of government offers on every hand bounties to merit. If, like Clay, orphanage, obscurity, poverty, shall oppress him; yet if, like Clay, he feels the Promethean spark within, let him remember that his country, like a generous mother, extends her arms to welcome and to cherish every one of her children whose genius and worth may promote her prosperity or increase her renown.

Mr. Speaker, the signs of woe around us, and the general voice, announce that another great man has fallen. Our consolation is that he was not taken in the vigor of his manhood, but sank into the grave at the close of a long and illustrious career. The great statesmen who have filled the largest space in the public eye, one by one are passing away. Of the three great leaders of the senate, one alone remains, and he must follow soon. We shall witness no more their intellectual struggles in the American forum; but the monuments of their genius will be cherished as the common property of the people, and their names will continue to confer dignity and renown upon their country.

Not less illustrious than the greatest of these will be the name of Clay――a name pronounced with pride by Americans in every quarter of the globe; a name to be remembered while history shall record the struggles of modern Greece for freedom, or the spirit of liberty burn in the South American bosom; a living and immortal name――a name that would descend to posterity without the aid of letters, borne by tradition from generation to generation. Every memorial of such a man will possess a meaning and a value to his countrymen. His tomb will be a hallowed spot. Great memories will cluster there, and his countrymen, as they visit it, may well exclaim――

‘Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines,
Shrines to no creed or code confined;
The Delphian vales, the Palestines,
The Meccas of the mind.’

Mr. Speaker, I offer the following resolutions:

_Resolved_, That the House of Representatives of the United
States has received with the deepest sensibility, intelligence
of the death of Henry Clay.

_Resolved_, That the officers and members of the House of
Representatives will wear the usual badge of mourning for
thirty days, as a testimony of the profound respect this house
entertains for the memory of the deceased.

_Resolved_, That the officers and members of the House of
Representatives, in a body, will attend the funeral of Henry
Clay, on the day appointed for that purpose by the senate of
the United States.

_Resolved_, That the proceedings of this house, in relation to
the death of Henry Clay, be communicated to the family of the
deceased by the clerk.

_Resolved_, That as a further mark of respect for the memory of
the deceased, this house do now adjourn.

* * * * *

Mr. EWING rose, and said: A noble heart has ceased to beat for ever. A long life of brilliant and self-devoted public service is finished at last. We now stand at its conclusion, looking back through the changeful history of that life to its beginning, contemporaneous with the very birth of the republic, and its varied events mingle, in our hearts and our memories, with the triumphs and calamities, the weakness and the power, the adversity and prosperity of a country we love so much. As we contemplate this sad event, in this place, the shadows of the past gather over us; the memories of events long gone crowd upon us, and the shades of departed patriots seem to hover about us, and wait to receive into their midst the spirit of one who was worthy to be a cölaborer with them in a common cause, and to share in the rewards of their virtues. Henceforth he must be to us as one of them.

They say he was ambitious. If so, it was a grievous fault, and grievously has he answered it. He has found in it naught but disappointment. It has but served to aggravate the mortification of his defeats, and furnish an additional lustre to the triumph of his foes. Those who come after us may――ay, they will――inquire why his statue stands not among the statues of those whom men thought ablest and worthiest to govern.

But his ambition was a high and holy feeling, unselfish, magnanimous. Its aspirations were for his country’s good, and its triumph was his country’s prosperity. Whether in honour or reproach, in triumph or defeat, that heart of his never throbbed with one pulsation, save for her honor and her welfare. Turn to him in that last best deed, and crowning glory of a life so full of public service and of honor, when his career of personal ambition was finished for ever. Rejected again and again by his countrymen; just abandoned by a party which would scarce have had an existence without his genius, his courage, and his labors, that great heart, ever firm and defiant to the assaults of his enemies, but defenceless against the ingratitude of friends, doubtless wrung with the bitterest mortification of his life――then it was, and under such circumstances as these, the gathering storm rose upon his country. All eyes turned to him; all voices called for those services which, in the hour of prosperity and security, they had so carelessly rejected. With no misanthropic chagrin; with no morose, selfish resentment, he forgot all but his country, and that country endangered. He returns to the scene of his labors and his fame, which he had thought to have left for ever. A scene――that American senate chamber――clothed in no gorgeous drapery, shrouded in no superstitious awe or ancient reverence for hereditary power, but to a reflecting American mind more full of interest, or dignity, and of grandeur than any spot on this broad earth, not made holy by religion’s consecrating seal. See him as he enters there tremblingly, but hopefully, upon the last, most momentous, perhaps most doubtful conflict of his life. Sir, many a gay tournament has been more dazzling to the eye of fancy, more gorgeous and imposing in the display of jewelry and cloth of gold, in the sound of heralds’ trumpets, in the grand array of princely beauty and of royal pride. Many a battle-field has trembled beneath a more ostentatious parade of human power, and its conquerors have been crowned with laurels, honored with triumphs, and ‘apotheosised’ amid the demigods of history; but to the thoughtful, hopeful, philanthropic student of the annals of his race, never was there a conflict in which such dangers were threatened, such hopes imperiled, or the hero of which deserved a warmer gratitude, a nobler triumph, or a prouder monument.

Sir, from that long, anxious, and exhausting conflict, he never rose again. In that last battle for his country’s honor and his country’s safety, he received the mortal wound which laid him low, and we now mourn the death of a martyred patriot.

But never, in all the grand drama which the story of his life arrays, never has he presented a sublimer or a more touching spectacle than in those last days of his decline and death. Broken with the storms of state, wounded and scathed in many a fiery conflict, that aged, worn, and decayed body, in such mournful contrast with the never-dying strength of his giant spirit, he seemed a proud and sacred, though a crumbling monument of past glory. Standing among us, like some ancient colossal ruin amid the degenerate and more diminutive structures of modern times, its vast proportions magnified by the contrast, he reminded us of those days when there were giants in the land, and we remembered that even then there was none whose prowess could withstand his arm. To watch him in that slow decline, yielding with dignity, and as it were inch by inch, to that last enemy, as a hero yields to a conquering foe, the glorious light of his intellect blazing still in all its wonted brilliancy, and setting at defiance the clouds that vainly attempted to obscure it, he was more full of interest than in the day of his glory and his power. There are some men whose brightest intellectual emanations rise so little superior to the instincts of the animal, that we are led fearfully to doubt that cherished truth of the soul’s immortality, which, even in despair, men press to their doubting hearts. But it is in the death of such a man as he that we are reassured by the contemplation, of a kindred, though superior spirit, of a soul which, immortal, like his fame, knows no old age, no decay, no death.

The wondrous light of his unmatched intellect may have dazzled a world; the eloquence of that inspired tongue may have enchanted millions, but there are few who have sounded the depths of that noble heart. To see him in sickness and in health, in joy and in sadness, in the silent watches of the night and in the busy day-time――this it was to know and love him. To see the impetuous torrent of that resistless will; the hurricane of those passions hushed in peace, breathe calm and gently as a summer zephyr; to feel the gentle pressure of that hand in the grasp of friendship which in the rage of fiery conflict would hurl scorn and defiance at his foe; to see that eagle eye, which oft would burn with patriotic ardor, or flash with the lightning of his anger, beam with the kindliest expressions of tenderness and affection――then it was, and then alone, we could learn to know and feel that that heart was warmed by the same sacred fire from above which enkindled the light of his resplendent intellect. In the death of such a man even patriotism itself might pause, and for a moment stand aloof while friendship shed a tear of sorrow upon his bier.

‘His life was gentle; and the elements
So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world, _This was a man!_’

But who can estimate his country’s loss? What tongue portray the desolation which in this hour throughout this broad land hangs like a gloomy pall over his grief-stricken countrymen? How poorly can words like mine translate the eloquence of a whole people’s grief for a patriot’s death. For a nation’s loss let a nation mourn. For that stupendous calamity to our country and mankind, be the heavens hung with black; let the wailing elements chant his dirge, and the universal heart of man throb with one common pang of grief and anguish.

* * * * *

Mr. CASKIE said: Mr. Speaker, Unwell as I am, I must try to lay a single laurel leaf in that open coffin, which is already garlanded by the eloquent tributes to the illustrious departed, which have been heard in this now solemn hall; for I come, sir, from the district of his birth. I represent on this floor that old Hanover so proud of her Henrys――her Patrick Henry and her Henry Clay. I speak for a people among whom he has always had as earnest and devoted friends as were ever the grace and glory of a patriot and statesman.

I shall attempt no sketch of his life. That you have had from other and abler hands than mine. Till yesterday that life was, of his own free gift, the property of his country; to-day it belongs to her history. It is known to all, and will not be forgotten. Constant, stern opponent of his political school as has been my state, I say for her, that no where in this broad land are his great qualities more admired, or his death more mourned, than in Virginia. Well may this be so; for she is his mother, and he was her son.

Mr. Speaker, when I remember the party strifes in which he was so much mingled, and through which we all more or less have passed, and then survey this scene, and think how far, as the lightning has borne the news that he is gone, half-masted flags are drooping and church-bells are tolling, and men are sorrowing, I can but feel that it is good for man to die. For when death enters, O! how the unkindnesses, and jealousies, and rivalries of life do vanish, and how like incense from an altar do peace, and friendship, and all the sweet charities of our nature, rise around the corpse which was once a man! And of a truth, Mr. Speaker, never was more of veritable noble _manhood_ cased in mortal mould than was found in him to whose memory this brief and humble, but true and heartfelt tribute is paid. But his eloquent voice is hushed, his high heart is stilled. ‘Like a shock of corn fully ripe, he has been gathered to his fathers.’ With more than three score years and ten upon him, and honors clustered thick about him, in the full possession of unclouded intellect, and all the consolations of Christianity, he has met the fate which is evitable by none. Lamented by all his countrymen, his name is bright on fame’s immortal roll. He has finished his course, and he has his crown. What more fruit can life bear? What can it give that Henry Clay has not gained?

Then, Mr. Speaker, around his tomb should be heard not only the dirge that wails his loss, but the jubilant anthem which sounds that on the world’s battle-field another victory has been won――another _incontestable greatness_ achieved.

* * * * *

Mr. CHANDLER, of Pennsylvania, said: Mr. Speaker, It would seem as if the solemn invocation of the honorable gentleman from Kentucky (Mr. EWING) was receiving an early answer, and that the heavens are hung in black, and the wailing elements are singing the funeral dirge of Henry Clay. Amid this elemental gloom, and the distress which pervades the nation at the death of Henry Clay, private grief should not obtrude itself upon notice, nor personal anguish seek for utterance. Silence is the best exponent of individual sorrow, and the heart that knoweth its own bitterness shrinks from an exposition of its affliction.

Could I have consulted my own feelings on the event which occupies the attention of the house at the present moment, I should even have forborne attendance here, and in the solitude and silence of my chamber have mused upon the terrible lesson which has been administered to the people and the nation. But I represent a constituency who justly pride themselves upon the unwavering attachment they have ever felt and manifested to Henry Clay――a constant, pervading, hereditary love. The son has taken up the father’s affection, and amid all the professions of political attachments to others, whom the accidents of party have made prominent, and the success of party has made powerful, true to his own instincts, and true to the sanctified legacy of his father, he has placed the name of Henry Clay forward and preëminent as the exponent of what is greatest in statesmanship and purest in patriotism. And even, sir, when party fealty caused other attachments to be avowed for party uses, the preference was limited to the occupancy of office, and superiority admitted for Clay in all that is reckoned above party estimation.

Nor ought I to forbear to add that, as the senior member of the delegation which represents my commonwealth, I am requested to utter the sentiments of the people of Pennsylvania at large, who yield to no portion of this great Union in their appreciation of the talents, their reverence for the lofty patriotism, their admiration of the statesmanship, and hereafter their love of the memory of Henry Clay.

I cannot, therefore, be silent on this occasion without injustice to the affections of my constituency, even though I painfully feel how inadequate to the reverence and love my people have toward that statesman must be all that I have to utter on this mournful occasion.

I know not, Mr. Chairman, where now the nation is to find the men she needs in peril; either other calls than those of politics are holding in abeyance the talents which the nation may need, or else a generation is to pass undistinguished by the greatness of our statesmen. Of the noble minds that have swayed the senate, one yet survives in the maturity of powerful intellect, carefully disciplined and nobly exercised. May He who has thus far blessed our nation, spare to her and the world that of which the world must always envy our country the possession! But my business is with the dead.

The biography of Henry Clay, from his childhood upward, is too familiar to every American for me to trespass on the time of this house by a reference directly thereto; and the honorable gentlemen who have preceded me have, with affectionate hand and appropriate delicacy, swept away the dust which nearly fourscore years have scattered over a part of the record, and have made our pride greater in his life, and our grief more poignant at his death, by showing some of those passages which attract respect to our republican institutions, of which Mr. Clay’s whole life was the able support and the most successful illustration.

It would, then, be a work of supererogation for me to renew that effort, though inquiry into the life and conduct of Henry Clay would present new themes for private eulogy, new grounds for public gratitude.

How rare is it, Mr. Speaker, that the great man, living, can with confidence rely on extensive personal friendship, or dying, think to awaken a sentiment of regret beyond that which includes the public loss or the disappointment of individual hopes. Yet, sir, the message which yesterday went forth from this city that Henry Clay was dead, brought sorrow――personal, private, special sorrow――to the hearts of thousands; each of whom felt that from his own love for, his long attachment to, his disinterested hopes in Henry Clay, he had a particular sorrow to cherish and express, which weighed upon his heart, separate from the sense of national loss.

No man, Mr. Speaker, in our nation had the art so to identify himself with public measures of the most momentous character, and to maintain at the same time almost universal affection, like that great statesman. His business, from his boyhood, was with national concerns, and he dealt with them as with familiar things. And yet his sympathies were with individual interests, enterprises, affections, joys, and sorrows; and while every patriot bowed in humble deference to his lofty attainments and heartfelt gratitude for his national services, almost every man in this vast republic knew that the great statesman was, in feeling and experience, identified with his own position. Hence the universal love of the people; hence their enthusiasm in all times for his fame. Hence, sir, their present grief.

Many other public men of our country have distinguished themselves and brought honor to the nation by superiority in some particular branch of public service, but it seems to have been the gift of Mr. Clay to have acquired peculiar eminence in every path of duty he was called to tread. In the earnestness of debate, which great public interests and distinguished opposing talents excited in this house, he had no superior in energy, force, or effect. Yet, as the presiding officer, by blandness of language and firmness of purpose, he soothed and made orderly; and thus, by official dignity, he commanded the respect which energy had secured to him on the floor.

Wherever official or social duties demanded an exercise of his power, there was a preëminence which seemed prescriptively his own. In the lofty debate of the senate and the stirring harangues to popular assemblages, he was the orator of the nation and of the people; and the sincerity of purpose and the unity of design evinced in all he said or did, fixed in the public mind a confidence strong and expansive as the affections he had won.

Year after year, sir, has Henry Clay been achieving the work of the mission with which he was intrusted; and it was only when the warmest wishes of his warmest friends were disappointed, that he entered on the fruition of a patriot’s highest hopes, and stood in the full enjoyment of that admiration and confidence which nothing but the antagonism of party relations could have divided.

How rich that enjoyment must have been it is only for us to imagine. How eminently deserved it was we and the world can attest.

The love and the devotion of his political friends were cheering and grateful to his heart, and were acknowledged in all his life――were recognized even to his death.

The contest in the senate chamber or the forum were rewarded with success achieved, and the great victor could enjoy the ovation which partial friendship or the gratitude of the benefit prepared. But the triumph of his life was no party achievement. It was not in the applause which admiring friends and defeated antagonists offered to his measureless success, that he found the reward of his labors, and comprehended the extent of his mission.

It was only when friends and antagonists paused in their contests appalled at the public difficulties and national dangers which had been accumulating, unseen and unregarded; it was only when the nation itself felt the danger, and acknowledged the inefficacy of party action as a remedy, that Henry Clay calculated the full extent of his powers, and enjoyed the reward of their saving exercise. Then, sir, you saw, and I saw, party designations dropped, and party allegiance disavowed, and anxious patriots, of all localities and name, turn toward the country’s benefactor as the man for the terrible exigencies of the hour; and the sick chamber of Henry Clay became the Delphos whence were given out the oracles that presented the means and the measures of our Union’s safety. There, sir, and not in the high places of the country, were the labors and sacrifices of half a century to be rewarded and closed. With his right yet in that senate which he had entered the youngest, and lingered still the eldest member, he felt that his work was done, and the object of his life accomplished. Every cloud that had dimmed the noonday lustre had been dissipated; and the retiring orb, which sunk from the sight of the nation in fullness and in beauty, will yet pour up the horizon a posthumous glory that shall tell of the splendor and greatness of the luminary that has passed away.

* * * * *

Mr. BAYLY, of Virginia.――Mr. Speaker: Although I have been all my life a political opponent of Mr. Clay, yet from my boyhood I have been upon terms of personal friendship with him. More than twenty years ago, I was introduced to him by my father, who was his personal friend. From that time to this, there has existed between us as great personal intimacy as the disparity in our years and our political difference would justify. After I became a member of this house, and upon his return to the senate, subsequent to his resignation in 1842, the warm regard upon his part for the daughter of a devoted friend of forty years’ standing, made him a constant visitor at my house, and frequently a guest at my table. These circumstances make it proper that, upon this occasion, I should pay this last tribute to his memory. I not only knew him well as a statesman, but I knew him better in most unreserved social intercourse. The most happy circumstance, as I esteem it, of my political life has been, that I have thus known each of our great congressional triumvirate.

I, sir, never knew a man of higher qualities than Mr. Clay. His very faults originated in high qualities. With as great self-possession, with greater self-reliance than any man I ever knew, he possessed moral and physical courage to as high a degree as any man who ever lived. Confident in his own judgment, never doubting as to his own course, fearing no obstacle that might lie in his way, it was almost impossible that he should not have been imperious in his character. Never doubting himself as to what, in his opinion, duty and patriotism required at his hands, it was natural that he should sometimes have been impatient with those more doubting and timid than himself. His were qualities to have made a great general, as they were qualities that did make him a great statesman, and these qualities were so obvious, that during the darkest period of our late war with Great Britain, Mr. Madison had determined, at one time, to make him general-in-chief of the American army.

Sir, it is but a short time since the American congress buried the first one that went to the grave of that great triumvirate. We are now called upon to bury another. The third, thank God! still lives, and long may he live to enlighten his countrymen by his wisdom, and set them the example of his exalted patriotism. Sir, in the lives and characters of these great men, there is much resembling those of the great triumvirate of the British Parliament. It differs principally in this: Burke preceded Fox and Pitt to the tomb. Webster survives Clay and Calhoun. When Fox and Pitt died, they left no peer behind them. Webster still lives, now that Calhoun and Clay are dead, the unrivalled statesman of his country. Like Fox and Pitt, Clay and Calhoun lived in troubled times. Like Fox and Pitt, they were each of them the leader of rival parties. Like Fox and Pitt they were idolized by their respective friends. Like Fox and Pitt, they died about the same time, and in the public service; and, as has been said of Fox and Pitt, Clay and Calhoun died with ‘their harness upon them.’ Like Fox and Pitt――

‘With more than mortal powers endow’d,
How high they soared above the crowd!
Theirs was no common party race,
Jostling by dark intrigue for place――
Like fabled gods their mighty war
Shook realms and nations in its jar.
Beneath each banner proud to stand
Look’d up the noblest of the land.

* * * * *

Here let their discord with them die.
Speak not for those a separate doom;
Whom fate made brothers in the tomb;
But search the land of living men,
Where wilt thou find their like again!’

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Mr. VENABLE said: Mr. Speaker, I trust that I shall be pardoned for adding a few words upon this sad occasion. The life of the illustrious statesman, which has just terminated, is so interwoven with our history, and the lustre of his great name so profusely shed over its pages, that simple admiration of his high qualities might well be my excuse. But it is a sacred privilege to draw near; to contemplate the end of the great and the good. It is profitable as well as purifying to look upon and realize the office of death in removing all that can excite jealousy or produce distrust, and to gaze upon the virtues which, like jewels, have survived his powers of destruction. The light which radiates from the life of a great and patriotic statesman is often dimmed by the mists which party conflicts throw around it. But the blast which strikes him down purifies the atmosphere which surrounded him in life, and it shines forth in bright examples and well-earned renown. It is then that we witness the sincere acknowledgment of gratitude by a people, who, having enjoyed the benefits arising from the services of an eminent statesman, embalm his name in their memory and hearts. We should cherish such recollections, as well from patriotism as self-respect. Ours, sir, is now the duty, in the midst of sadness, in this high place, in the face of our republic, and before the world, to pay this tribute by acknowledging the merits of our colleague, whose name has ornamented the journals of congress for near half a century. Few, very few, have ever combined the high intellectual powers and distinguished gifts of this illustrious senator. Cast in the finest mould by nature, he more than fulfilled the anticipations which were indulged by those who looked to a distinguished career as the certain result of that zealous pursuit of fame and usefulness upon which he entered in early life. Of the incidents of that life it is unnecessary for me to speak――they are as familiar as household words, and must be equally familiar to those who come after us. But it is useful to refresh memory, by recurrence to some of the events which marked his career. We know, sir, that there is much that is in common in the histories of distinguished men. The elements which constitute greatness are the same in all times; hence those who have been the admiration of their generations present in their lives much which, although really great, ceases to be remarkable, because illustrated by such numerous examples――

‘But there are deeds which should not pass away,
And names that must not wither.’

Of such deeds the life of Henry Clay affords many and bright examples. His own name, and those with whom he associated, shall live with a freshness which time cannot impair, and shine with a brightness which passing years cannot dim. His advent into public life was as remarkable for the circumstances as it was brilliant in its effect. It was at a time when genius and learning, statesmanship and eloquence, made the American Congress the most august body in the world. He was the contemporary of a race of statesmen, some of whom――then administering the government, and others retiring and retired from office――presented an array of ability unsurpassed in our history. The elder Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Gallatin, Clinton, and Monroe, stood before the republic in the maturity of their fame; while Calhoun, John Quincy Adams, Lowndes, Randolph, Crawford, Gaston, and Cheves, with a host of others, rose a bright galaxy upon our horizon. He who won his spurs in such a field earned his knighthood. Distinction amid such competition was true renown――

‘The fame which a man wins for himself is best――
That he may call his own.’

It was such a fame that he made for himself in that most eventful era in our history. To me, sir, the recollection of that day, and the events which distinguish it, is filled with an overpowering interest. I never can forget my enthusiastic admiration of the boldness, the eloquence, and the patriotism of Henry Clay during the war of 1812. In the bright array of talent which adorned the congress of the United States; in the conflict growing out of the political events of that time; in the struggles of party, and amid the gloom and disasters which depressed the spirits of most men, and well nigh paralyzed the energies of the administration, his cheerful face, high bearing, commanding eloquence and iron will, gave strength and consistency to those elements which finally gave not only success but glory to the country. When dark clouds hovered over us, and there was little to save from despair, the country looked with hope to Clay and Calhoun, to Lowndes, and Crawford, and Cheves, and looked not in vain. The unbending will, the unshaken nerve, and the burning eloquence of Henry Clay, did as much to command confidence and sustain hope as even the news of our first victory after a succession of defeats. Those great names are now canonized in history; he, too, has passed to join them on its pages. Associated in his long political life with the illustrious Calhoun, he survived him but two years. Many of us heard his eloquent tribute to his memory in the senate chamber on the annunciation of his death. And we this day unite in a similar manifestation of reverential regard to him whose voice shall never more charm the ear, whose burning thoughts, borne on that medium, shall no more move the hearts of listening assemblies.

In the midst of the highest specimens of our race, he was always an equal; _he was a man among men_. Bold, skillful, and determined, he gave character to the party which acknowledged him as a leader; impressed his opinions upon their minds, and an attachment to himself upon their hearts. No man, sir, can do this without being eminently great. Whoever attains this position must first overcome the aspirations of antagonist ambition, quiet the clamors of rivalry, hold in check the murmurs of jealousy, and overcome the instincts of vanity and self-love in the masses thus subdued to his control. But few men ever attain it. Very rare are the examples of those whose plastic touch forms the minds and directs the purposes of a great political party. This infallible indication of superiority belonged to Mr. Clay. He has exercised that control during a long life; and now through our broad land the tidings of his death, borne with electric speed, have opened the fountains of sorrow. Every city, town, village, and hamlet will be clothed with mourning; along our extended coast, the commercial and military marine, with flags drooping at half-mast, own the bereavement; state-houses draped in black proclaim the extinguishment of one of the great lights of senates; and minute-guns sound his requiem.

Sir, during the last five years I have seen the venerable John Quincy Adams, John C. Calhoun, and Henry Clay pass from among us, the legislators of our country. The race of giants who ‘were on the earth in those days’ is well-nigh gone. Despite their skill, their genius, their might, they have sunk under the stroke of time. They were our admiration and our glory; a few linger with us, the monuments of former greatness, the beacon-lights of a past age. The death of Henry Clay cannot fail to suggest melancholy associations to each member of this house. These walls have rëechoed the silvery tones of his bewitching voice; listening assemblies have hung upon his lips. The chair which you fill has been graced by his presence, while his commanding person and unequalled parliamentary attainments inspired all with deference and respect. Chosen by acclamation because of his high qualifications, he sustained himself before the house and the country. In his supremacy with his party, and the uninterrupted confidence which he enjoyed to the day of his death, he seems to have almost discredited the truth of those lines of the poet Laberius――

‘Non passunt primi esse omnes omni in tempore,
Summum ad gradum cum claritatis veneris,
Consistes ægre, et citius, quam ascendas, cades.’

If not at all times first, he stood equal with the foremost, and a brilliant, rapid rise knew no decline in the confidence of those whose just appreciation of his merits had confirmed his title to renown.

The citizens of other countries will deplore his death; the struggling patriots who on our own continent were cheered by his sympathies, and who must have perceived his influence in the recognition of their independence by this government, have taught their children to venerate his name. He won the civic crown, and the demonstrations of this hour own the worth of civil services.

It was with great satisfaction that I heard my friend from Kentucky, [Mr. Breckenridge,] the immediate representative of Mr. Clay, detail a conversation which disclosed the feelings of that eminent man in relation to his Christian hope. These, Mr. Speaker, are rich memorials, precious reminiscences. A Christian statesman is the glory of his age, and his memory will be glorious in after times; it reflects a light coming from a source which clouds cannot dim nor shadows obscure. It was my privilege, also, a short time since, to converse with this distinguished statesman on the subject of his hopes in a future state. Feeling a deep interest, I asked him frankly what were his hopes in the world to which he was evidently hastening. ‘I am pleased,’ said he, ‘my friend, that you have introduced the subject. Conscious that I must die very soon, I love to meditate upon the most important of all interests. I love to converse and to hear conversations about them. The vanity of the world, and its insufficiency to satisfy the soul of man, has long been a settled conviction of my mind. Man’s inability to secure by his own merits the approbation of God, I feel to be true. I trust in the atonement of the Saviour of men as the ground of my acceptance and my hope of salvation. My faith is feeble, but I hope in His mercy and trust in his promises.’ To such declarations I listened with the deepest interest, as I did on another occasion, when he said: ‘I am willing to abide the will of Heaven, and ready to die when that will shall determine it.’

He is gone, sir, professing the humble hope of a Christian. That hope, alone, sir, can sustain you, or any of us. There is one lonely and crushed heart that has bowed before this afflictive event. Far away, at Ashland, a widowed wife, prevented by feeble health from attending his bedside and soothing his painful hours, she has thought even the electric speed of the intelligence daily transmitted of his condition too slow for her aching, anxious bosom. She will find consolation in his Christian submission, and will draw all of comfort that such a case admits from the assurance that nothing was neglected by the kindness of friends which could supply her place. May the guardianship of the widow’s God be her protection, and His consolations her support!

‘All cannot be at all times first
To reach the topmost step of glory; to stand there,
More hard. Even swifter than we mount, we fall.’

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Mr. HAVEN said: Mr. Speaker, Representing a constituency distinguished for the constancy of its devotion to the political principles of Mr. Clay, and for its unwavering attachment to his fortunes and his person――sympathizing deeply with those whose more intimate personal relations with him have made them feel most profoundly this general bereavement――I desire to say a few words of him, since he has fallen amongst us and been taken to his rest.

After the finished eulogies which have been so eloquently pronounced by the honorable gentlemen who have preceded me, I will avoid a course of remark which might otherwise be deemed a repetition, and refer to the bearing of some of the acts of the deceased upon the interests and destinies of my own state. The influence of his public life, and of his _purely American character_, the benefits of his wise forecast, and the results of his efforts for wholesome and rational progress, are no where more strongly exhibited than in the state of New York.

Our appreciation of his anxiety for the general diffusion of knowledge and education, is manifested in our twelve thousand public libraries, our equal number of common schools, and a large number of higher institutions of learning, all of which draw portions of their support from the share of the proceeds of the public lands, which his wise policy gave to our state. Our whole people are thus constantly reminded of their great obligations to the statesman whose death now afflicts the nation with sorrow. Our extensive public works, attest our conviction of the utility and importance of the system of internal improvements he so ably advocated; and their value and productiveness, afford a most striking evidence of the soundness and wisdom of his policy. Nor has his influence been less sensibly felt in our agriculture, commerce, and manufactures. Every department of human industry acknowledges his fostering care; and the people of New York are, in no small measure, indebted to his statesmanship for the wealth, comfort, contentment, and happiness so widely and generally diffused throughout the state.

Well may New York cherish his memory and acknowledge with gratitude the benefits that his life has conferred. That memory will be cherished throughout the republic.

When internal discord and sectional strife have threatened the integrity of the Union, his just weight of character, his large experience, his powers of conciliation and acknowledged patriotism, have enabled him to pacify the angry passions of his countrymen, and to raise the bow of promise and of hope upon the clouds which have darkened the political horizon.

He has passed from amongst us, ripe in wisdom and pure in character――full of years and full of honors――he has breathed his last amidst the blessings of a united and grateful nation.

He was, in my judgment, particularly fortunate in the time of his death.

He lived to see his country, guided by his wisdom, come once again unhurt out of trying sectional difficulties and domestic strife; and he has closed his eyes in death upon that country, whilst it is in the enjoyment of profound peace, busy with industry, and blessed with unequalled prosperity.

It can fall to the lot of but few to die amidst so warm a gratitude flowing from the hearts of their countrymen; and none can leave a brighter example or a more enduring fame.

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Mr. BROOKS, of New York, said: Mr. Speaker, I rise to add my humble tribute to the memory of a great and good man, now to be gathered to his fathers. I speak for, and from, a community in whose heart is enshrined the name of him whom we mourn; who, however much Virginia, the land of his birth, or Kentucky, the land of his adoption, may love him, is, if possible, loved where I live yet more. If idolatry had been Christian, or allowable even, he would have been our idol. But as it is, for a quarter of a century now, his bust, his portrait, or some medal, has been one of our household gods, gracing not alone the saloons and the halls of wealth, but the humblest room or workshop of almost every mechanic or laborer. Proud monuments of his policy as a statesman, as my colleague has justly said, are all about us; and we owe to him, in a good degree, our growth, our greatness, our prosperity and happiness as a people.

The great field of Henry Clay, Mr. Speaker, has been here, on the floor of this house, and in the other wing of the capitol. He had held other posts of higher nominal distinction, but they are all eclipsed by the brilliancy of his career as a congressman. What of glory he has acquired, or what most endear him to his countrymen, have been won here, amid these pillars, under these domes of the capitol.

‘Si quæris monumentum, circumspice.’