For centuries the world has admired the calmness and fortitude of
Socrates in the presence of death, but if Socrates died like a
philosopher, Patrick Henry died like a Christian. In his last illness,
all other remedies having failed, his physician, Doctor Cobell,
proceeded to administer to him a dose of liquid mercury. Taking the
vial in his hand, and looking at it for a moment, the dying man said:
“I suppose, doctor, this is your last resort?”
“I am sorry to say, governor, that it is.”
“What will be the effect of this medicine?”
“It will give you immediate relief, or--” The doctor could not
finish the sentence.
His patient took up the word: “You mean, doctor, that it will
give relief or will prove fatal immediately?”
“You can live only a very short time without it,” the doctor
answered, “and it may possibly relieve you.”
Then the old statesman said:
“Excuse me, doctor, for a few minutes,” and drawing over his
eyes a silken cap which he usually wore, and still holding the
vial in his hand, he prayed in clear words a simple, childlike
prayer for his family, for his country, and for his own soul,
then in the presence of death. Afterward, in perfect calmness,
he swallowed the medicine.
Meanwhile Doctor Cobell, who greatly loved him, went out upon
the lawn, and in his grief threw himself down upon the earth
under one of the trees, and wept bitterly. Soon, when he had
sufficiently mastered himself, the doctor returned to his
patient, whom he found calmly watching the congealing of the
blood under his finger-nails, and speaking words of love and
peace to his family, who were weeping round his chair.
Among other things, he told them that he was thankful for that
goodness of God which, having blest him through all his life,
was then permitting him to die without any pain. Finally fixing
his eyes with much tenderness upon his dear friend, Doctor
Cobell, with whom he had formerly held many arguments respecting
the Christian religion, he asked the doctor to observe how great
a reality and benefit that religion was to a man about to die.
And after Patrick Henry had spoken these few words in praise of
something which, having never failed him in his life before, did
not then fail him in his very last need of it, he continued to
breathe very softly for some moments, after which they who were
looking upon him saw that his life had departed.--_The Youth’s
Companion._
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