[From _Obituary Addresses on the Occasion of the Death of the Hon.
Henry Clay_ (Washington, 1852)]
Imperishably associated as his name has been for fifty years with
every great event affecting the fortunes of our country, it is
difficult to realize that he is indeed gone forever. It is difficult
to feel that we shall see no more his noble form within these
walls--that we shall hear no more his patriot tones, now rousing his
countrymen to vindicate their rights against a foreign foe, now
imploring them to preserve concord among themselves. We shall see him
no more. The memory and fruits of his services alone remain to us.
Amidst the general gloom, the Capitol itself looks desolate, as if the
genius of the place had departed. Already the intelligence has reached
almost every quarter of the Republic, and a great people mourn with us
to-day, the death of their most illustrious citizen. Sympathizing as
we do deeply with his family and friends, yet private affliction is
absorbed in the general sorrow. The spectacle of a whole community
lamenting the loss of a great man, is far more touching than any
manifestation of private grief. In speaking of a loss which is
national, I will not attempt to describe the universal burst of grief
with which Kentucky will receive these tidings. The attempt would be
vain to depict the gloom that will cover her people, when they know
that the pillar of fire is removed, which has guided their footsteps
for the life of a generation.
* * * * *
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 cause. 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 of honour 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 amid 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 vigour 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."
JAMES WEIR, Sr.
James Weir, Senior, an early Kentucky romancer, was born at
Greenville, Kentucky, June 16, 1821. He was the son of James Weir, a
Scotch-Irish merchant and quasi-author. He was graduated from Centre
College, Danville, Kentucky, in 1840, and later studied law at
Transylvania University. He engaged in the practice of law at
Owensboro, Kentucky--first known as the Yellow Banks--and on March 1,
1842, he was married to Susan C. Green, daughter of Judge John C.
Green of Danville. Weir wrote a trilogy of novels which do not deserve
the obscurity into which they have fallen. They were called _Lonz
Powers, or the Regulators_ (Philadelphia, 1850, two vols.); _Simon
Kenton, or the Scout's Revenge_ (Philadelphia, 1852); and _The Winter
Lodge, or Vow Fulfilled_ (Philadelphia, 1854). All of these romances
were thrown upon historical backgrounds, and they created much
favorable criticism at the time of their publication. Weir wrote
numerous sketches and verses, but these were his only published books.
Business, bar sufficient to all literary labors, pressed hard upon
him, and he practically abandoned literature. In 1869 he was elected
president of the Owensboro and Russellville railroad; and for nearly
forty years he was president of the Deposit bank at Owensboro. Weir
died at Owensboro, Kentucky, January 31, 1906. His son, Dr. James
Weir, Junior, was an author of considerable reputation.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _History of Kentucky_, by R. H. Collins (Covington,
Kentucky, 1882); letters of Mr. Paul Weir to the Author.