Chapter XVI: Preface (14)

The mind of Mr. Clay has been the governing mind of the country, more or less, ever since he has been on the stage of public action. In a minority or majority――more, perhaps, even in a minority than in a majority――he seems to have had some commission, divine as it were, to persuade, to convince, to govern other men. His patriotism, his grand conceptions, have created measures which the secret fascination of his manners in-doors, or his irresistible eloquence without, have enabled him almost always to frame into laws. Adverse administrations have yielded to him, or been borne down by him, or he has taken them captive as a leader, and carried the country and congress with him. This power he has wielded now for nearly half a century, with nothing but reason and eloquence to back him. And yet when he came here, years ago, he came from a then frontier state of this Union, heralded by no loud trumpet of fame, nay, quite unknown! unfortified even by any position, social or pecuniary;――to quote his own words, ‘my only heritage has been infancy, indigence, and ignorance.’

In these days, Mr. Speaker, when mere civil qualifications for high public places――when long civil training and practical statesmanship are held subordinate――a most discouraging prospect would be rising up before our young men, were it not for some such names as Lowndes, Crawford, Clinton, Gaston, Calhoun, Clay, and the like, scattered along the pages of our history, as stars or constellations along a cloudless sky. They shine forth, and show us, that if the chief magistracy cannot be won by such qualifications, a memory among men can be――a hold upon posterity, as firm, as lustrous――nay, more imperishable. In the Capitolium of Rome there are long rows of marble slabs, on which are recorded the names of the Roman consuls; but the eye wanders over this wilderness of letters but to light up and kindle upon some Cato or Cicero. To win such fame, thus unsullied, as Mr. Clay has won, is worth any man’s ambition. And how was it won? By courting the shifting gales of popularity? No, never! By truckling to the schemes, the arts, and seductions of the demagogue? Never, never! His hardest battles as a public man――his greatest, most illustrious achievements――have been against, at first, an adverse public opinion. To gain an imperishable name, he has often braved the perishable popularity of the moment. That sort of courage which, in a public man, I deem the highest of all courage――that sort of courage most necessary under our form of government to guide as well as to save a state――Mr. Clay was possessed of more than any public man I ever knew. Physical courage, valuable, indispensable though it be, we share but with the brute; but moral courage, to dare to do right amid all temptations to do wrong, is, as it seems to me, the very highest species, the noblest heroism, under institutions like ours. ‘I had rather be right than be President,’ was Mr. Clay’s sublime reply when pressed to refrain from some measure that would mar his popularity. These lofty words were the clue of his whole character――the secret of his hold upon the heads as well as hearts of the American people; nay, the key of his immortality.

Another of the keys, Mr. Speaker, of his universal reputation was his intense nationality. When taunted but recently, almost within our hearing, as it were, on the floor of the senate by a southern senator, as being a southern man unfaithful to the south――his indignant but patriotic exclamation was, ‘I know no _south_, no north, no east, no west.’ The country, the _whole_ country, loved, reverenced, adored such a man. The soil of Virginia may be his birth-place, the sod of Kentucky will cover his grave――what was mortal they claim――but the spirit, the soul, the genius of the mighty man, the immortal part, these belong to his country and to his God.

* * * * *

Mr. FAULKNER, of Virginia, said: Representing, in part, the state which gave birth to that distinguished man whose death has just been announced upon this floor, and having for many years held toward him the most cordial relations of friendship, personal and political, I feel that I should fail to discharge an appropriate duty, if I permitted this occasion to pass by without some expression of the feeling which such an event is so well calculated to elicit. Sir, this intelligence does not fall upon our ears unexpectedly. For months the public mind has been prepared for the great national loss which we now deplore; and yet, as familiar as the daily and hourly reports have made us with his hopeless condition and gradual decline, and although

‘Like a shadow thrown
Softly and sweetly from a passing cloud,
Death fell upon him,’

it is impossible that a light of such surpassing splendor should be, as it is now, for ever extinguished from our view, without producing a shock, deeply and painfully felt, to the utmost limits of this great republic. Sir, we all feel that a mighty intellect has passed from among us; but, happily for this country, happily for mankind, not until it had accomplished to some extent the exalted mission for which it had been sent upon this earth; not until it had reached the full maturity of its usefulness and power; not until it had shed a bright and radiant lustre over our national renown; not until time had enabled it to bequeath the rich treasures of its thought and experience for the guidance and instruction of the present and of succeeding generations.

Sir, it is difficult,――it is impossible,――within the limit allowed for remarks upon occasions of this kind, to do justice to a great historical character like Henry Clay. He was one of that class of men whom Scaliger designates as _homines centenarii_――men that appear upon the earth but once in a century. His fame is the growth of years, and it would require time to unfold the elements which have combined to impart to it so much of stability and grandeur. Volumes have already been written, and volumes will continue to be written, to record those eminent and distinguished public services which have placed him in the front rank of American statesmen and patriots. The highest talent, stimulated by a fervid and patriotic enthusiasm, has already and will continue to exhaust its powers to portray those striking and generous incidents of his life,――those shining and captivating qualities of his heart, which have made him one of the most beloved, as he was one of the most admired, of men; and yet the subject itself will remain as fresh and exhaustless as if hundreds of the best intellects of the land had not quaffed the inspiration of their genius from the ever-gushing and overflowing fountains of his fame. It could not be that a reputation so grand and colossal as that which attaches to the name of Henry Clay could rest for its base upon any single virtue, however striking; nor upon any single act, no matter how marked or distinguished. Such a reputation as he has left behind him, could only be the result of a long life of illustrious public service. And such in truth it was. For nearly half a century he has been a prominent actor in all the stirring and eventful scenes of American history, fashioning and moulding many of the most important measures of public policy by his bold and sagacious mind, and arresting others by his unconquerable energy and resistless force of eloquence. And however much the members of this body may differ in opinion as to the wisdom of many of his views of national domestic policy, there is not one upon this floor――no, sir, not one in this nation――who will deny to him frankness and directness as a public man; a genius for statesmanship of the highest order; extraordinary capacities for public usefulness, and an ardent and elevated patriotism, without stain and without reproach.

In referring to a career of public service so varied and extended as that of Mr. Clay, and to a character so rich in every great and manly virtue, it is only possible to glance at a few of the most prominent of those points of his personal history, which have given to him so distinguished a place in the affections of his countrymen.

In the whole character of Mr. Clay, in all that attached or belonged to it, you find nothing that is not essentially American. Born in the darkest period of our revolutionary struggle; reared from infancy to manhood among those great minds which gave the first impulse to that mighty movement, he early imbibed and sedulously cherished those great principles of civil and political liberty, which he so brilliantly illustrated in his subsequent life, and which has made his name a watchword of hope and consolation to the oppressed of all the earth. In his intellectual training he was the pure creation of our own republican soil. Few, if any, allusions are to be seen in his speeches or writings to ancient or modern literature, or to the thoughts and ideas of other men. His country, its institutions, its policy, its interests, its destiny, form the exclusive topics of those eloquent harangues, which, while they are destitute of the elaborate finish, have all the ardor and intensity of thought, the earnestness of purpose, the cogency of reasoning, the vehemence of style, and the burning patriotism which mark the productions of the great Athenian orator.

One of the most distinguishing characteristics of Mr. Clay as a public man was his loyalty to truth and to the honest convictions of his own mind. He deceived no man: he would not permit his own heart to be deceived by any of those seductive influences which too often warp the judgment of men in public station. He never paused to consider how far any step which he was about to take would lead to his own personal advancement; he never calculated what he might lose or what he might gain by his advocacy of, or his opposition to, any particular measure. His single inquiry was: Is it right? Is it in accordance with the constitution of the land? Will it redound to the permanent welfare of the country? When satisfied upon these points, his determination was fixed; his purpose was immovable. ‘I would rather be right than be President,’ was the expression of his genuine feelings, and the principle by which he was controlled in his public career――a saying worthy of immortality, and proper to be inscribed upon the heart of every young man in this republic. And yet, sir, with all of that personal and moral intrepidity which so eminently marked the character of Mr. Clay; with his well-known inflexibility of purpose and unyielding resolution, such was the genuine sincerity of his patriotism, and such his thorough comprehension of those principles of compromise, upon which the whole structure of our government was founded, that no one was more prompt to relax the rigor of his policy the moment he perceived that it was calculated to disturb the harmony of the states, or to endanger in any degree the stability of the government. With him the love of this Union was a passion――an absorbing sentiment――which gave color to every act of his public life. It triumphed over party; it triumphed over policy; it subdued the natural fierceness and haughtiness of his temper, and brought him into the most kindly and cordial relations with those who, upon all other questions, were deeply and bitterly opposed to him. It has been asserted, sir, upon high medical authority, and doubtless with truth, that his life was in all probability shortened ten years by the arduous and extraordinary labors which he assumed at the memorable session of 1850. If so, he has added the crowning glory of the MARTYR to the spotless fame of the PATRIOT; and we may well hope that a great national pacification, purchased at such a sacrifice, will long continue to cement the bonds of this now happy and prosperous Union.

Mr. Clay possessed, in an eminent degree, the qualities of a great popular leader; and history, I will assume to say, affords no example in any republic, ancient or modern, of any individual that so fearlessly carried out the convictions of his own judgment, and so sparingly flattered the prejudices of popular feeling, who, for so long a period, exercised the same controlling influence over the public mind. Earnest in whatever measure he sustained, fearless in attack,――dexterous in defence,――abounding in intellectual resources,――eloquent in debate,――of inflexible purpose, and with a ‘courage never to submit or yield,’ no man ever lived with higher qualifications to rally a desponding party, or to lead an embattled host to victory. That he never attained the highest post of honorable ambition in this country is not to be ascribed to any want of capacity as a popular leader, nor to the absence of those qualities which attract the fidelity and devotion of ‘troops’ of admiring friends. It was the fortune of Napoleon, at a critical period of his destiny, to be brought into collision with the star of Wellington; and it was the fortune of Henry Clay to have encountered, in his political orbit, another great and original mind, gifted with equal power for commanding success, and blessed with more fortunate elements, concurring at the time, of securing popular favor. The struggle was such as might have been anticipated from the collision of two such fierce and powerful rivals. For near a quarter of a century this great republic has been convulsed to its centre by the divisions which have sprung from their respective opinions, policy, and personal destinies; and even now, when they have both been removed to a higher and a better sphere of existence, and when every unkind feeling has been quenched in the triumphs of the grave, this country still feels, and for years will continue to feel, the influence of those agitations to which their powerful and impressive characters gave impulse.

But I must pause. If I were to attempt to present all the aspects in which the character of this illustrious man will challenge the applause of history, I should fatigue the house and violate the just limit allowed for such remarks.

I cannot, however, conclude, sir, without making some more special allusion to Mr. Clay, as a native of that state which I have the honor in part to represent upon this floor. We are all proud, and very properly proud, of the distinguished men to whom our respective states have given birth. It is a just and laudable emulation, and one, in a confederated government like ours, proper to be encouraged. And while men like Mr. Clay very rapidly rise above the confined limits of a state reputation, and acquire a national fame, in which all claim and all have an equal interest, still there is a propriety and fitness in preserving the relation between the individual and his state. Virginia has given birth to a large number of men who have by their distinguished talents and services impressed their names upon the hearts and memories of their countrymen; but certainly, since the colonial era, she has given birth to no man who, in the massive and gigantic proportions of his character, and in the splendor of his native endowments, can be compared to Henry Clay. At an early age, he emigrated from his native state, and found a home in Kentucky. In a speech which he delivered in the senate of the United States, in February, 1842――and which I well remember――upon the occasion of his resigning his seat in that body, he expressed the wish that, when that event should occur which has now clothed this city in mourning and filled the nation with grief, his ‘earthly remains should be laid under the green sod of Kentucky, with those of her gallant and patriotic sons.’

Sir, however gratifying it might be to us that his remains should be transferred to his native soil, to there mingle with the ashes of Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Lee, and Henry, we cannot complain of the very natural preference which he has himself expressed. If Virginia did give him birth, Kentucky has nourished him in his manhood――has freely lavished upon him her highest honors――has shielded him from harm when the clouds of calumny and detraction gathered heavily and loweringly about him, and she has watched over his fame with the tenderness and zeal of a mother. Sir, it is not to be wondered that he should have expressed the wish he did, to be laid by the side of her gallant and patriotic sons. Happy Kentucky! Happy in having an adopted son so worthy of her highest honors. Happy, in the unshaken fidelity and loyalty with which, for near half a century, those honors have been so steadfastly and gracefully accorded to him.

Sir, whilst Virginia, in the exercise of her own proper judgment, has differed from Mr. Clay in some of his views of national policy, she has never, at any period of his public career, failed to regard him with pride, as one of her most distinguished sons; to honor the purity and the manliness of his character, and to award to him the high credit of an honest and sincere devotion to his country’s welfare. And now, sir, that death has arrested for ever the pulsations of that mighty heart, and sealed in eternal silence those eloquent lips upon whose accents thousands have so often hung in rapture, I shall stand justified in saying, that a wail of lamentation will be heard from her people――her whole people――reverberating through her mountains and valleys, as deep, as genuine, and as sincere as that which, I know, will swell the noble hearts and the heaving bosoms of the people of his own cherished and beloved Kentucky.

Sir, as I walked to the capitol this morning, every object which attracted my eye, admonished me that a nation’s benefactor had departed from amongst us. He is gone! Henry Clay, the idol of his friends, the ornament of the senate chamber, the pride of his country; he whose presence gathered crowds of his admiring fellow-men around him, as if he had been one descended from above, has passed for ever from our view.

‘His soul, enlarged from its vile bonds, has gone
To that REFULGENT world, where it shall swim
In liquid light, and float on seas of bliss.’

But the memory of his virtues and of his services will be gratefully embalmed in the hearts of his countrymen, and generations yet unborn will be taught to lisp with reverence and enthusiasm the name of Henry Clay.

* * * * *

Mr. PARKER, of Indiana, said: Mr. Speaker, This is a solemn――a consecrated hour. And I would not detain the members of the house from indulging in the silence of their own feelings, so grateful to hearts chastened as ours. But I cannot restrain an expression from a bosom pained with its fullness.

When my young thoughts first took cognizance of the fact that I have a country, my eye was attracted by the magnificent proportions of Henry Clay. The idea absorbed me then, that he was, above all other men, the embodiment of my country’s genius.

I have watched him; I have studied him; I have admired him――and, God forgive me! for he was but a man, ‘of like passions with us’――I fear I have _idolized_ him, until this hour. But he has gone from among men; and it is for US now to awake and apply ourselves, with renewed fervor and increased fidelity, to the welfare of the country HE loved so well and served so truly and so long――the glorious country yet saved to us! Yes, Henry Clay has fallen, at last!――as the ripe oak falls, in the stillness of the forest. But the verdant and gorgeous richness of his glories will only fade and wither from the earth, when his country’s history shall have been forgotten. ‘One generation passeth away and another generation cometh.’ Thus it has been from the beginning, and thus it will be, until time shall be no longer.

Yesterday morning, at eleven o’clock, the spirit of Henry Clay――so long the pride and glory of his own country, and the admiration of all the world――was yet with us, though struggling to be free. Ere ‘high noon’ came, it had passed over ‘the dark river,’ through the gate, into the celestial city, inhabited by all the ‘just men made perfect.’ May not our rapt vision contemplate him there, this day, in sweet communion with the dear friends that have gone before him?――with Madison, and Jefferson, and Washington, and Henry, and Franklin――with the eloquent Tully, with the ‘divine Plato,’ with Aaron the Levite, who could ‘speak well’――with all the great and good, since and before the flood! His princely tread has graced these aisles for the last time. These halls will wake no more to the magic music of his voice. Did that tall spirit, in its etherial form, enter the courts of the upper sanctuary, bearing itself comparably with the spirits there, as was his walk among men? Did the mellifluous tones of his greeting there enrapture the hosts of heaven, comparably with his strains ‘to stir men’s blood’ on earth? Then, may we not fancy, when it was announced to the inhabitants of that better country, ‘He comes! he comes!’ there was a rustling of angel-wings――a thrilling joy――_up there_, only to be witnessed once in an earthly age? Adieu!――a last adieu to thee, Henry Clay! The hearts of all thy countrymen are melted, on this day, because of the thought that thou art gone. Could we have held the hand of the ‘insatiate archer,’ thou hadst not died; but thou wouldst have tarried with us, in the full grandeur of thy greatness, until we had no longer need of a country. But we thank our Heavenly Father that thou wast given to us; and that thou didst survive so long. We would cherish thy memory while we live, as our country’s JEWEL――than which none is richer. And we will teach our children the lessons of matchless patriotism thou hast taught us; with the fond hope that our LIBERTY and our UNION may only expire with ‘the last of earth.’

* * * * *

Mr. GENTRY said: Mr. Speaker, I do not rise to pronounce an eulogy on the life and character and public services of the illustrious orator and statesman whose death this nation deplores. Suitably to perform that task, a higher eloquence than I possess might essay in vain. The gushing tears of the nation, the deep grief which oppresses the hearts of more than twenty millions of people, constitute a more eloquent eulogium upon the life and character and patriot services of Henry Clay, than the power of language can express. In no part of our country is that character more admired, or those public services more appreciated, than in the state which I have the honor, in part, to represent. I claim for the people of that state a full participation in the general woe which the sad announcement of to-day will every where inspire.

* * * * *

Mr. BOWIE said: Mr. Speaker, I rise not to utter the measured phrases of premeditated woe, but to speak as my constituency would, if they stood around the grave now opening to receive the mortal remains, not of a statesman only, but of a beloved friend. If there is a state in this Union, other than Kentucky, which sends up a wail of more bitter and sincere sorrow than another, that state is Maryland.

In her midst, the departed statesman was a frequent and a welcome guest. At many a board, and many a fireside, his noble form was the light of the eyes, the idol of the heart. Throughout her borders, in cottage, hamlet, and city, his name is a household word, his thoughts are familiar sentences. Though not permitted to be the first at his cradle, Maryland would be the last at his tomb.

Through all the phases of political fortune, amid all the storms which darkened his career, Maryland cherished him in her inmost heart, as the most gifted, patriotic, and eloquent of men. To this hour, prayers ascend from many domestic altars, evening and morning, for his temporal comfort and eternal welfare. In the language of inspiration, Maryland would exclaim, ‘There is a prince and a great man fallen, this day, in Israel.’ Daughters of America! weep for him ‘who hath clothed you in scarlet and fine linen.’――The husbandman at his plough, the artisan at the anvil, and the seaman on the mast, will pause and drop a tear when he hears Clay is no more.

The advocate of freedom in both hemispheres, he will be lamented alike on the shores of the Hellespont and the banks of the Mississippi and Orinoco. The freed men of Liberia, learning and practising the art of self-government, and civilizing Africa, have lost in him a patron and protector, a father and a friend. America mourns the eclipse of a luminary, which enlightened and illuminated the continent; the United States, a counsellor of deepest wisdom and purest purpose; mankind, the advocate of human rights and constitutional liberty.

* * * * *

Mr. WALSH said: Mr. Speaker, The illustrious man whose death we this day mourn, was so long my political leader――so long almost the object of my personal idolatry――that I cannot allow that he shall go down to the grave, without a word at least of affectionate remembrance――without a tribute to a memory which will exact tribute as long as a heart shall be found to beat within the bosom of civilized man, and human agency shall be adequate in any _form_ to give them an expression; and even, sir, if I had no heartfelt sigh to pour out here――if I had no tear for that coffin’s lid, I should do injustice to those whose representative in part I am, if I did not in this _presence_, and at this time, raise the voice to swell the accents of the profoundest public sorrow.

The state of Maryland has always vied with Kentucky in love and adoration of his name. Her people have gathered around him with all the fervour of a first affection, and with more than its _duration_. Troops of friends have ever clustered about his pathway with a personal devotion which each man of them regarded as the highest individual honor――friends, sir, to whose firesides the tidings of his death will go with all the withering influences which are felt when household ties are severed.

I wish, sir, I could offer now a proper memorial for such a subject and such an affection. But as I strive to utter it, I feel the disheartening influence of the well-known truth, that in view of death all minds sink into triteness. It would seem, indeed, sir, that the great leveller of our race would vindicate his _title_ to be so considered, by making all men think alike in regard to his visitation――‘the thousand thoughts that begin and end in one’――the _desolation_ here――the eternal hope _hereafter_――are influences felt alike by the lowest intellect and the loftiest genius.

Mr. Speaker, a statesman for more than fifty years in the councils of his country, whose peculiar charge it was to see that the republic suffered no detriment――a patriot for all times, all circumstances, and all emergencies――has passed away from the trials and triumphs of the world, and gone to his reward. Sad as are the emotions which such an event would ordinarily excite, their intensity is heightened by the matters so fresh within the memories of us all:

‘Oh! think how to his latest day,
When Death, just hovering, claimed his prey,
With Palinurus’ unalter’d mood,
Firm at his dangerous post he stood;
Each call for needful rest repell’d,
With dying hand the rudder held;
Then while on Freedom’s thousand plains,
One unpolluted church remains,
Whose peaceful bells ne’er sent around
The bloody tocsin’s maddening sound,
But still, upon the hallow’d day,
Convoke the swains to praise and pray,
While peace and civil peace are dear,
Greet his cold marble with a tear――
He who preserved them――CLAY lies here.’

In a character, Mr. Speaker, so illustrious and beautiful, it is difficult to select any point for particular notice, from those which go to make up its noble proportions; but we may now, around his honored grave, call to grateful recollection that invincible spirit which no personal sorrow could sully, and no disaster could overcome. Be assured, sir, that he has in this regard left a legacy to the young men of the republic, almost as sacred and as dear as that liberty of which his life was a blessed illustration.

We can all remember, sir, when adverse political results disheartened his friends, and made them feel even as men without hope, that his own clarion voice was still heard in the purpose and the pursuit of right, as bold and as eloquent as when it first proclaimed the freedom of the seas, and its talismanic tones struck off the badges of bondage from the lands of the Incas, and the plains of Marathon.

Mr. Speaker, in the exultation of the statesman he did not forget the duties of the man. He was an affectionate adviser on all points wherein inexperienced youth might require counsel. He was a disinterested sympathizer in personal sorrows that called for consolation. He was ever upright and honorable in all the duties incident to his relations in life.

To an existence so lovely, Heaven in its mercy granted a fitting and appropriate close. It was the prayer, Mr. Speaker, of a distinguished citizen, who died some years since in the metropolis, even while his spirit was fluttering for its final flight, that he might depart gracefully. It may not be presumptuous to say, that what was in that instance the aspiration of a chivalric _gentleman_, was in this the realization of the dying _Christian_, in which was blended all that human dignity could require, with all that divine grace had conferred; in which the firmness of the man was only transcended by the fervor of the penitent.

A short period before his death he remarked to one by his bedside, ‘that he was fearful he was becoming selfish, as his thoughts were entirely withdrawn from the world and centred upon eternity.’ This, sir, was but the purification of his noble spirit from all the dross of earth――a happy illustration of what the religious muse has so sweetly sung:

‘No sin to stain――no lure to stay
The soul, as home she springs;
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom in her wings.’

Mr. Speaker, the solemnities of this hour may soon be forgotten. We may come back from the new-made grave only still to show that we consider ‘eternity the bubble, life and time the enduring substance.’ We may not pause long enough by the brink to ask which of us revelers of to-day shall next be at rest. But be assured, sir, that upon the records of mortality will never be inscribed a name more illustrious than that of the statesman, patriot, and friend whom the nation mourns.

* * * * *

The question was then put on the adoption of the resolutions
proposed by Mr. ♦Breckenridge, and they were unanimously adopted.

The Strong Staff Broken and the Beautiful Rod;

A SERMON,

DELIVERED IN THE SENATE CHAMBER, JULY 1, 1852,
ON THE OCCASION OF THE FUNERAL OF THE HON. HENRY CLAY.

“How is the strong staff broken, and the beautiful rod!”
――JER. xlviii. 17.

BEFORE all hearts and minds in this august assemblage the vivid image of _one man_ stands. To some aged eye he may come forth, from the dim past, as he appeared in the neighboring city of his native state, a lithe and ardent youth, full of promise, of ambition, and of hope. To another he may appear as in a distant state, in the courts of justice, erect, high-strung, bold, wearing the fresh forensic laurel on his young and open brow. Some may see him in the earlier, and some in the later, stages of his career, on this conspicuous theatre of his renown; and to the former he will start out on the back-ground of the past, as he appeared in the neighboring chamber, tall, elate, impassioned――with flashing eye, and suasive gesture, and clarion voice, an already acknowledged ‘Agamemnon, King of Men;’ and to others he will again stand in this chamber, ‘the strong staff’ of the bewildered and staggering state, and ‘the beautiful rod,’ rich with the blossoms of genius, and of patriotic love and hope, the life of youth still remaining to give animation, grace, and exhaustless vigor, to the wisdom, the experience, and the gravity of age. To others he may be present as he sat in the chamber of sickness, cheerful, majestic, gentle――his mind clear, his heart warm, his hope fixed on Heaven, peacefully preparing for his last great change. To the memory of the minister of God he appears as the penitent, humble, and peaceful Christian, who received him with the affection of a father, and joined with him in solemn sacrament and prayer, with the gentleness of a woman, and the humility of a child. ‘Out of the strong came forth sweetness.’ ‘How is the strong staff broken, and the beautiful rod!’

But not before this assembly only does the venerated image of the departed statesman, this day, distinctly stand. For more than a thousand miles――east, west, north, and south――it is known and remembered that, at this place and hour, a nation’s representatives assemble to do honour to him whose fame is now a nation’s heritage. A nation’s mighty heart throbs against this capitol, and beats through you. In many cities banners droop, bells toll, cannons boom, funereal draperies wave. In crowded streets and on sounding wharfs, upon steamboats and upon cars, in fields and in workshops, in homes, in schools, millions of men, women, and children have their thoughts fixed upon this scene, and say mournfully to each other, ‘This is the hour in which, at the capitol, the nation’s representatives are burying Henry Clay.’ ‘_Burying_’ Henry Clay! Bury the records of your country’s history――bury the hearts of living millions――bury the mountains, the rivers, the lakes, and the spreading lands from sea to sea, with which his name is inseparably associated, and even then you would not bury Henry Clay――for he lives in other lands, and speaks in other tongues, and to other times than our’s.

A great mind, a great heart, a great orator, a great career, have been consigned to history. She will record his rare gifts of deep insight, keen discrimination, clear statement, rapid combination, plain, direct, and convincing logic. She will love to dwell on that large, generous, magnanimous, open, forgiving heart. She will linger, with fond delight, on the recorded and traditional stories of an eloquence that was so masterful and stirring, because it was but _himself_, struggling to come forth on the living words――because, though the words were brave and strong, and beautiful and melodious, it was felt that, behind them there was a _soul_ braver, stronger, more beautiful, and more melodious, than language could express. She will point to a career of statesmanship which has, to a remarkable degree, stamped itself on the public policy of the country, and reached, in beneficent practical results, the fields, the looms, the commercial marts, and the quiet homes of all the land, where his name was, with the departed fathers, and is with the living children, and will be, with successive generations, an honored household word.

I feel, as a man, the grandeur of this career. But as an immortal, with this broken wreck of mortality before me, with this scene as the ‘end-all’ of human glory, I feel that no career is truly great but that of him who, whether he be illustrious or obscure, lives to the future in the present, and linking himself to the spiritual world, draws from God the life, the rule, the motive, and the reward of all his labor. So would that great spirit which has departed say to us, could he address us now. So did he realize, in the calm and meditative close of life. I feel that I but utter the lessons which, living, were his last and best convictions, and which, dead, would be, could he speak to us, his solemn admonitions, when I say that statesmanship is then only glorious, when it is _Christian_: and that man is then only safe, and true to his duty, and his soul, when the life which he lives in the flesh is the life of faith in the Son of God.

Great, indeed, is the privilege, and most honorable and useful is the career, of a Christian American statesman. He perceives that civil liberty came from the freedom wherewith Christ made its early martyrs and defenders free. He recognises it as one of the twelve manner of fruits on the Tree of Life, which, while its lower branches furnish the best nutriment of earth, hangs on its topmost boughs, which wave in Heaven, fruits that exhilarate the immortals. Recognising the state as God’s institution, he will perceive that his own ministry is divine. Living consciously under the eye, and in the love and fear of God; redeemed by the blood of Jesus; sanctified by His Spirit; loving His law; he will give himself, in private and in public, to the service of his Saviour. He will not admit that he may act on less lofty principles in public, than in private life; and that he must be careful of his moral influence in the small sphere of home and neighborhood, but need take no heed of it when it stretches over continents and crosses seas. He will know that his moral responsibility cannot be divided and distributed among others. When he is told that adherence to the strictest moral and religious principle is incompatible with a successful and eminent career, he will denounce the assertion as a libel on the venerated Fathers of the Republic――a libel on the honored living and the illustrious dead――a libel against a great and Christian nation――a libel against God himself, who has declared and made ‘godliness profitable for the life that now is.’ He will strive to make laws the transcripts of the character, and institutions illustrations of the providence of God. He will scan with admiration and awe the purposes of God in the future history of the world, in throwing open this wide continent, from sea to sea, as the abode of freedom, intelligence, plenty, prosperity, and peace; and feel that in giving his energies with a patriot’s love, to the welfare of his country, he is consecrating himself, with a Christian’s zeal, to the extension and establishment of the Redeemer’s kingdom. Compared with a career like this, which is equally open to those whose public sphere is large or small, how paltry are the trade of patriotism, the tricks of statesmanship, the rewards of successful baseness! This hour, this scene, the venerated dead, the country, the world, the present, the future, God, duty, Heaven, hell, speak trumpet-tongued to all in the service of their country, to _beware_ how they lay polluted or unhallowed hands

‘Upon the ark
Of her magnificent and awful cause!’

Such is the character of that statesmanship which alone would have met the full approval of the venerated dead. For the religion which always had a place in the convictions of his mind, had also, within a recent period, entered into his experience, and seated itself in his heart. Twenty years since he wrote――‘I am a member of no religious sect, and I am not a professor of religion. I regret that I am not. I wish that I was, and trust that I shall be. I have, and always have had, a profound regard for Christianity, the religion of my fathers, and for its rites, its usages, and observances.’ That feeling proved that the seed sown by pious parents was not dead, though stifled. A few years since, its dormant life was rëawakened. He was baptized in the communion of the Protestant Episcopal Church; and during his sojourn in this city, he was in full communion with Trinity Parish.

It is since his withdrawal from the sittings of the senate, that I have been made particularly acquainted with his religious opinions, character, and feelings. From the commencement of his illness he always expressed to me his persuasion that its termination would be fatal. From that period until his death, it was my privilege to hold frequent religious services and conversations with him in his room. He avowed to me his full faith in the great leading doctrines of the Gospel――the fall and sinfulness of man, the divinity of Christ, the reality and necessity of the Atonement, the need of being born again by the Spirit, and salvation through faith in a crucified Redeemer. His own personal hopes of salvation, he ever and distinctly based on the promises and the grace of Christ. Strikingly perceptible, on his naturally impetuous and impatient character, was the influence of grace in producing submission, and ‘a patient waiting for Christ,’ and for death. On one occasion he spoke to me of the pious example of one very near and dear to him, as that which led him deeply to feel, and earnestly to seek for himself, the reality and the blessedness of religion. On another occasion, he told me that he had been striving to form a conception of Heaven; and he enlarged upon the mercy of that provision by which our Saviour became a partaker of our humanity, that our hearts and hopes might fix themselves on him. On another occasion, when he was supposed to be very near his end, I expressed to him the hope that his mind and heart were at peace, and that he was able to rest with cheerful confidence on the promises, and in the merits of the Redeemer. He said, with much feeling, that he endeavored to, and trusted that he did repose his salvation upon Christ; that it was too late for him to look at Christianity in the light of speculation; that he had never doubted of its truth; and that he now wished to throw himself upon it as a practical and blessed remedy. Very soon after this, I administered to him the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. Being extremely feeble, and desirous of having his mind undiverted, no persons were present, but his son and his servant. It was a scene long to be remembered. There, in that still chamber, at a week-day noon, the tides of life flowing all around us, three disciples of the Savior, the minister of God, the dying statesman, and his servant, a partaker of the like precious faith, commemorated their Saviour’s dying love. He joined in the blessed sacrament with great feeling and solemnity, now pressing his hands together, and now spreading them forth, as the words of the service expressed the feelings, desires, supplications, confessions, and thanksgivings, of his heart. His eyes were dim with grateful tears, his heart was full of peace and love! After this he rallied, and again I was permitted frequently to join with him in religious services, conversation, and prayer. He grew in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Among the books which, in connection with the Word of God, he read most, were ‘Jay’s Morning and Evening Exercises,’ the ‘Life of Dr. Chalmers,’ and ‘The Christian Philosopher Triumphant in Death.’ His hope continued to the end to be, though true and real, tremulous with humility rather than rapturous with assurance. When he felt most the weariness of his protracted sufferings, it sufficed to suggest to him that his Heavenly Father doubtless knew, that after a life so long and stirring, and tempted, such a discipline of chastening and suffering was needful to make him more meet for the inheritance of the saints――and at once words of meek and patient acquiescence escaped his lips.

Exhausted nature at length gave way. On the last occasion, when I was permitted to offer a brief prayer at his bedside, his last words to me were that he had hope only in Christ, and that the prayer which I had offered for his pardoning love, and his sanctifying grace, included every thing which the dying need. On the evening previous to his departure, sitting for an hour in silence by his side, I could not but realize, when I heard him, in the slight wanderings of his mind to other days, and other scenes, murmuring the words, ‘_My mother! Mother! Mother!_’ and saying ‘_My dear wife!_’ as if she were present, and frequently uttering aloud, as if in response to some silent Litany of the soul, the simple prayer, ‘Lord, have mercy upon me!’――I could not but realize then, and rejoice to think how near was the blessed rëunion of his weary heart with the loved dead, and with her――Our dear Lord, gently smooth her passage to the tomb!――who must soon follow him to his rest――whose spirits even then seemed to visit, and to cheer his ♦memory and his hope. Gently he breathed his soul away into the spirit world.

‘How blest the righteous when they die!
When holy souls retire to rest,
How mildly beams the closing eye,
How gently heaves the expiring breast!

‘So fades the summer cloud away,
So sinks the gale when storms are o’er,
So gently shuts the eye of day,
So dies the wave upon the shore!’

Be it ours to follow him, in the same humble and submissive faith, to heaven. Could he speak to us the counsels of his latest human, and his present heavenly, experience, sure I am that he would not only admonish us to cling to the Saviour, in sickness and in death; but abjure us not to delay to act upon our first convictions, that we might give our best powers and fullest influence to God, and go to the grave with a hope, unshadowed by the long worldliness of the past, or by the films of fear and doubt resting over the future.

The strong staff is broken, and the beautiful rod is despoiled of its grace and bloom; but in the light of the eternal promises, and by the power of Christ’s resurrection, we joyfully anticipate the prospect of seeing that broken staff erect, and that beautiful rod clothed with celestial grace, and blossoming with undying life and blessedness in the Paradise of God.

SPEECHES, &c.

ON DOMESTIC MANUFACTURES.

IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES, APRIL 6, 1810.

[THIS is the first speech on record, of Mr. Clay’s efforts
during his congressional career. He had been previously elected
to fill a vacancy in the United States senate, for a single
session, in 1806, during which, in 1807, he delivered an able
speech on _internal improvement_, which we regret has not been
preserved. In 1809, the legislature of Kentucky again elected
him a United States senator, and in the following remarks, he
avowed himself in favor of the policy of encouraging _domestic
manufactures_, which policy he had before advocated in the
legislature of his own state. His early support of these two
branches of national policy, which he afterwards called ‘the
_American System_,’ is thus shown by his two first speeches in
congress, and his name and influence have become identified with
the cause, of which he has always stood forth the distinguished
champion.]

MR. PRESIDENT,

The local interest of the quarter of the country, which I have the honor to represent, will apologize for the trouble I may give you on this occasion. My colleague has proposed an amendment to the bill before you, instructing the secretary of the navy, to provide supplies of cordage, sail-cloth, hemp, &c. and to give a preference to those of American growth and manufacture. It has been moved by the gentleman from Massachusetts (Mr. Lloyd) to strike out this part of the amendment; and, in the course of the discussion which has arisen, remarks have been made on the general policy of promoting manufactures. The propriety of this policy is, perhaps, not very intimately connected with the subject before us; but it is, nevertheless, within the legitimate and admissible scope of debate. Under this impression I offer my sentiments.

In inculcating the advantages of domestic manufactures, it never entered the head, I presume, of any one, to change the habits of the nation from an agricultural to a manufacturing community. No one, I am persuaded, ever thought of converting the ploughshare and the sickle into the spindle and the shuttle. And yet this is the delusive and erroneous view too often taken of the subject. The opponents of the manufacturing system transport themselves to the establishments of Manchester and Birmingham, and, dwelling on the indigence, vice, and wretchedness prevailing there, by pushing it to an _extreme_, argue that its introduction into this country will necessarily be attended by the same mischievous and dreadful consequences. But what is the fact? That England is the manufacturer of a great part of the world; and that, even there, the numbers thus employed bear an inconsiderable proportion to the whole mass of population. Were we to become the manufacturers of other nations, effects of the same kind might result. But if we _limit_ our efforts, by our own wants, the evils apprehended would be found to be chimerical. The invention and improvement of machinery, for which the present age is so remarkable, dispensing in a great degree with manual labor; and the employment of those persons, who, if we were engaged in the pursuit of agriculture alone, would be either unproductive, or exposed to indolence and immorality; will enable us to supply our wants without withdrawing our attention from agriculture――that first and greatest source of national wealth and happiness. A judicious American farmer, in the household way, manufactures whatever is requisite for his family. He squanders but little in the gewgaws of Europe. He presents in epitome, what the nation ought to be _in extenso_. Their manufactories should bear the same proportion, and effect the same object in relation to the whole community, which the part of his household employed in domestic manufacturing, bears to the whole family. It is certainly desirable, that the exports of the country should continue to be the surplus production of tillage, and not become those of manufacturing establishments. But it is important to diminish our imports; to furnish ourselves with clothing, made by our own industry; and to cease to be dependent, for the very coats we wear, upon a foreign and perhaps inimical country. The nation that imports its clothing from abroad is but little less dependent than if it imported its bread.

The fallacious course of reasoning urged against domestic manufactures, namely, the distress and servitude produced by those of England, would equally indicate the propriety of abandoning agriculture itself. Were you to cast your eyes upon the miserable peasantry of Poland, and revert to the days of feudal vassalage, you might thence draw numerous arguments, of the kind now under consideration, against the pursuits of the husbandman! What would become of commerce, the favorite theme of some gentlemen, if assailed with this sort of weapon? The fraud, perjury, cupidity, and corruption, with which it is unhappily too often attended, would at once produce its overthrow. In short, sir, take the black side of the picture, and every human occupation will be found pregnant with fatal objections.

The opposition to manufacturing institutions recalls to my recollection the case of a gentleman, of whom I have heard. He had been in the habit of supplying his table from a neighboring cook, and confectioner’s shop, and proposed to his wife a reform, in this particular. She revolted at the idea. The sight of a scullion was dreadful, and her delicate nerves could not bear the clattering of kitchen furniture. The gentleman persisted in his design; his table was thenceforth cheaper and better supplied, and his neighbor, the confectioner, lost one of his best customers. In like manner dame Commerce will oppose domestic manufactures. She is a flirting, flippant, noisy jade, and if we are governed by her fantasies, we shall never put off the muslins of India and the cloths of Europe. But I trust that the yeomanry of the country, the true and genuine landlords of this tenement, called the United States, disregarding her freaks, will persevere in reform, until the whole national family is furnished by itself with the clothing necessary for its own use.