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UV WILLIAM S. JONES
THE WEEKLY
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WEEKLY CfIROMCLE & SEN TIA E L
SELECTED POETRY.
MY NATIVE LAND—GOOD NIGHT.
BT LORD BYRON.
“ Adieu* adieu ! my native shore
Fades o’er the waters bine ;
The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar
And shrieks the wild sea mew.
Yon sun thateet# upon the sea
We follow in bis flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native land— gdod night '
_ and he will rite
fTgfte the morrow birth ;
And I shall hail the main and siciee,
But not my mother earth.
Deserted is my own good hall,
My hearth is desolate;
Wild weeds are gathering on the wall ;
My dog howls at the gate.
Come hither, hither, my little page !
W by dost thou week and wail ?
Or dost thou dread the billow 1 * rage,
Or tremble at the gale ?
But dash the tear-drop from thine eye •
Our ship is swift and strong .
Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly
More merrily along.”
“ Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,
I fear not wave or wind :
Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that i
Am sorrowful in mind ;
For I have from my father gone,
A mother whom I love,
And have no friend save these alone,
But thee —and One above.
My father blessed me fervently,
Yet did not much complain ;
But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come hack again ”
f Enough, enough, my little lad *
Such tears become thine eye ;
If I thy geik less bosom had/
.Mine own would not be dry.
Cone hither, hither, my staunch yoeman,
Why dost thou look ro pale ?
Or dost thou dread the French foeman ?
Or shiver at the gale ?”
“ Deem’st thou I tremble for my life?
Sir Childe I’m not so weak ;
But thinking on an absent wile
Will blanch a faithful cheek.
My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall,
Along thy bordering lake,
And when they on their father call,
What answer shall she make ?”
“ Enough, enough, my yeoman good,
Thy grief let none gainsay;
But I, who am of lighter mood,
Will laugh to flee away.
For pleasures past I do not grieve,
Nor perils gathering near;
My greatest grief is, that I leave
No thing that claims a tear.
And now I’m in the world alone,
Upon the wide, wide sea;
But why should I for others groan,
When none will sigh for me ?
With thee, my bark, I’ll swiftly go
Athwart the loaming brine:
Nor care what land thou bear 1 st me to,
So not again io mine.
Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves!
And when you fail my sight,
Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves I
My native land —good eight!”
Sleep*
We term sleep a death, and yet it is waking
that kills us, and destroys those spirits that are
the Louse of life. 'Tis indeed a part of life
that best expresseth death; for every tnan
truly lives so long as be acts his nature, or
some way makes good the faculties of himself.
Themistocles, therefore, that slew his soldier
in his sleep, was a merciful executioner. ’Tie
a kind of punishment the mildness of no
laws
a i*d not discover it. It is
ve may be inmtty saht c<r
die daily; a death which Adam died before
his mortality; a death whereby we live a mid
die and moderating point between life and
death ; in line, so like death I dare not trust it
without my prayers, and an half adieu unto the
world, and take my farewell in a colloquy with
God.
The eight is come, like to the day
Depart not thou great God away !
Let not my sins, black as the night,
Eclipse the lustre of thy light;
Keep still io my horizon, for to me
The sun makes not the day, but thee.
Thou whose nature cannot sleep,
On my tempfessentry keep;
Guard me ’gainst those watchful foes,
Whose eyes are open while mine close ;
Let no dream*.- my head infest,
But such as Jacob’s (empks blest.
While 1 do rest, ray soul advance,
Make my deep a holy trance,
Tltat I may, ray rest being wrought,
Awake into some holy thought,
And with an active vigor run
My enures, as doth the nimble sun.
Sleep is a death, O snake me try,
By sleeping, what it is tn die ;
And as gently lay my head
On my grave, as now my bed.
Howe’er 1 rest, great God. let me
Awake again nt last with thee :
And thus assured, behold 1 lie
Securely, or to wake or die.
Iheee are my drowsy days, in vain
I do not wake to deep again ;
O come that hour when 1 shall never
Sleep again, but u ake forever !
This fe the dormitive I lake to bedward, I need
no other laudanum than this to make me sleep : after
which I close mine eyes in security, content to take
my leave of the sun, and sleep into the resurrection.
—Sir Thomas Browne, M. D.
Prom the Knickerbocker.
The Song of Night.
I come, 1 eome from the land of dreams,
And shadows I throw on the day’s last beams ;
I come at the gentle twilight hour,
And softly clow the bright leaf’d flower.
I steal from the lake and the winding stream
The silvery glow of the sun’s last gleam :
I breathe on the crest of the gorgeous cloud,
, And its gilded head is in dimness bowed.
The fleecy foaras of the ocean wave,
As the sandy shore its waters lave,
But sparkles dim, as sea and land,
Are curtain’d by my sable band.
On the violet’s breast, on the beeehen tree,
I fold the wing of the murmuring bee;
I check the bound of the graceful fawn
And hit bright eyes close till the opening dawn.
The liquid notes of the woxlland bird
At my approach are faintly heard ;
As sinking ’nealh the dark green leaves,
Her parting song she sweetly breathes.
My finger still on the infant i lav,
And close his lids in the midst of play ;
And I gently steal on the maiden fair,
Aa she softly tnurtnurs her evening prayer.
At my coining the peasant seeks his col,
And in peaceful dreams are bis cares forgot;
While the sons of tod their labors close,
And a refuge find in deep repose.
My shadowy mantle around me I fold,
Aa the mountain mists arc backward rolled ;
When morning’s light o’er my pathway is cast,
I vanish from earth—a dream of the past.
THE MONKS OF OLD.
•T THS AUTttUR OF MOHBURV.
(This pathetic poem, by the author of “ Richelieu,"
was wri ten on a melancholy occasion : the author
having visited an old inoo&snc church on tbe coeti
neut, to bury a beloved infant.]
1 envy them- those mocks of old—
Their books they road, and their beads they told;
To human softness dead and cold.
And all life’s vanity.
Fhey dwelt like shadows on the earth,
Free from the penshies of birth,
Nor let one feeling venture forth
But charity.
I envy them ; their cloistered hearts
Knaw not the bitter pangs that parts
Beings that all Affection’s arts
Had linked iu unity.
The tomb to them was not the place
To drown the best loved of their race.
And blot out each sweet raeoaory's trace
In dull obscurity.
To them k was the calmest bed
That rests the aching human head;
They looked with envy co the dead,
Aod not with agony.
No bonds they felt, no ties they broke,
NomuUc of the heart they woke,
When one moment it Ivad spoke,
To lose it suddenly.
Peaceful they hved—peaceful they died ;
And those that did their fate abide
Saw brother* wither by their ride,
In alt tracqudity.
Thev loved nnt. dreamed not—tar their apbere
Held not jov’s virions; but the tear
Ot broken hope, of anxious fear,
Was not their misery.
I envy them— there monks of eld;
And when their statues I behold,
t’atved in the raartde calm and cold,
How true an •art
I wiah my baut calm .nd »'•#
To ‘4M*. Ik.: U«, and «l»« «W»l,
And p.n<s ihnt p*y joy’* ihntl
Wiik biti«r urary.
From . document ju.t o'ni tu Congrew
•pp«ar. that the production of wool <n ti
country, during the law year, was TQ OOU.OI
poaod*. «*lo*d ai& OOo.iOddo Uon.
MISCELLANEOUS LITE
From the N. O. Picayune.
An Ancient Relic*
1 Our readers will find below an interesting
j relic of the past. It is a letter, never before
published, written in June. 1776, just before
the Declaration of Independence, by the elder
Adams. It was addressed to Dr. Winthrop, of
Boston, one of the patriots of that day, and has
been religiously preserved in the family of his
descendants, one of whom—Col. John Win
throp, of this city—has furnished it to us for
publication. The original is at our office, and
is well worthy of the inspection of the curious.
It is neatly written, in a small, firm band, with
out erasure or interlineation, accurately punc
tuated, and is still neat and clean, though yel
low with age.
The letter is full of the fire of patriotism
whi.h made the writer one of the foremost
friends of liberty—the special champion of in
dependence in the Congress which declared it,
and moat hated enemy ot tyrants. It would
be almost superfluous in us to repeat that he
was an ardent lover of his country, and would
have sacrificed every personal aim and interest
to secure her happiness Happy would it be
for us now if ail among us were actuated by
one-half of his fervent and sincere love of
country.
7’o the Editors of the Picayune : Gentlemen —
Al a lime when ibe hajt-h and startling cry of disun
ion is bandied about in th* balls of Congress, amid
the ominous silence of those who were wont indig
nantly to denounce its mere agitation as constructive
treason, at a time “ when fools prevail and infidels
bear sway,” and when the baleful spectres of suspi
cion, discord and dfetrasr, are stalking with porten
tous strides over our hitherto happy and united coun
try, it may, perhaps, prove interesting to yourselves
and read*rs to cast a retrospective glance upon one
of that noble band of spirits who from amidst the jar
ring and discordant elements by which they were
surrounded, looked forward with calm hope and con
fidence to the glorious consummation of their wishe?,
the foundation of our beloved Republic.
I hand you herewith an original letter from the
elder Adams, u who had no prejudice except in favor
of his country,” to an ancestor of mine, adv. eating
the necessity of an immediate declaration. Listen to
the pure and patriotic strains ! How admirably does
it apply to the present state of affaire.
Compared with the polluted streams now flowing
so darkly and treacherom-ly through the bosoms of
many of our most eminent public men, the perusal of
sentiments like these seems like drawing deep and
refreshing waters irom the great well of truth, “ pure
and undefiled.” I am, gentlemen, your obedient ser
vant, Jno. Winthrop.
New Orleans, March 7, 1850.
Philadelphia, Jan. 23, 1776.
Dear Sir —Your favor of June the Ist is now be
fore me. It ia now universally acknowledged that
we are and must be independent States. But still
objections are made to a declaration of it. life said
chat such a declaration will arouse and unite Great
Britain. But are they not already aroused and uni
ted as much as they will be ? Will not such a de
claration arouse the friends of liberty, the few such
who are left, in opposition to the present system ?
It is also said that such a declaration will put us in
the power of foreign States. That France will take
advantage of ns when they see we can’t recede, and
demand severe terms of us. That she and Spaiu,
100, will rejoice to see Britain and America wasting
each other. But this reasoning has no weight with
me, because I am not for soliciting any poliiical con
nection, or military assistance, or indeed naval, from
France. 1 wish for nothing but commerce, a mere
marine treaty with them, and this they will never
grant, until we make the declaration, and this, I
think, they cannot refuse after we have made it.
The advantages which will result from such a de
claration are, in my opinion, very numerous and
very great. After that event the colonies will hesi
tate no longer to complete their government. They
will establish tests and ascertain the criminality of
toryisni. The presses will produce no more sedi
tious or traitorous speculations. Slander upon pub
lic men and measures will be lessened. Our civil
government will feel a vigor hitherto unknown.—
Foreign courts will not disdain to treat with us upon
equal terms. Nay, further, in my opinion, such a
declaration, instead of uniting the people of Great
Britain against us, will raise such a storm against
the measures of the adm ini-tration as will ebstruct lhe
war and throw the kingdom into confusion. ♦ ♦
I am grieved to hear, as I do from various quarters,
of '.hat rage for innovation which appears, in so many
mild shapes, in our province. Are not these ridicu
lous projects, prompted, excited and encouraged by
disaffected persons, in order to divide, dissipate and
distract the attention of the people at a time when
every thought should be employed, and every sinew
exerted for the defence of the country? Many of
lhe projects that 1 have heard of are not repairing,
but palling down tbe building, when it is on fire, in
stead of laboring to extinguish the flames. They
arc founded in narrow no'ionf, sordid stinginess and
profound ignorance, and tend directly to barbarism.
I am not solicitous who takes offence at this language.
I blush to cee such stuff in our public papers, which
used to breathe a spirit much more liberal.
I rejoice to see in the list of both Houses so many
names respectablu for parts, and learning. I hope
their fortitude and zeal will be in proportion, and
then, I am sure, their country will have great cause
to bless them, I am, sir, with every sentiment of
friendship and veneration, your affectionate and
humble servant. John Adams.
To Dr. John Winthrop, F. R. S.
Burns and Scalds.
The following article on Burns, by Dr,
Do**.. f*rara*4k« MuJmal .Scienc* s,
IS of great practical Impvrlarroo will am*
doubt be the meant of doing much good-
Dr. Reese has long been superintending
Physician of the Bellevue Hospital, and is very
eminent in his profession.
Burns.—Among the most numerous cases
brought into the surgical wards of charity hos
pitals. every where, may be reckoned the in
juries received by burns and scalds, which,
when extensive, nre too often fatal. In the
treatment of these injuries we have had great
experience and uniform success, when patients
were brought in aeon after the injury. No
fatal case of recent burn has occurred in the
hospital, although several have been extensive
and severe. The universal treatment of all
such cases is to cover lhe parts with wheaten
flour thrown over the wounds by a dredging
box, which, if thoroughly done so as Co ex
clude the air. and prevent its temperature
from reaching the suffering tissues, will afford
instant relief from pain, and allay all that ner
votis irritation which is the chief source of
immediate danger in all cases of extensive
burns. We have had opportunity to test this
practice in terrible burns occasioned by ex
plosions of gunpowder, in scalds from the
bursting of steam boilers, in examples of per
sons while drunk falling into the fire, and
others in which the clothes were burnt off the
body by the combustion of spirit gas, &c.—
In all these cases, and in some of them scarce
ly any portion of the body had escaped—and
notwithstanding, in a few of them* the integu
ments were literally baked so that extensive and
deep sealed-suppuration and sloughing were
inevitable, and had afterward to be endured
the external application of the flour was in the.
first instance our only remecy, and this was
continued fdr one or more days, while the
acute effects of the injury demanded it- Tbe
superficial portions of lhe burns or scald would
often heal under this application alone: and
lhe solutions of continuity, more or leas deep,
which remained open and discharging, were
then dressed with limewater and oil, by means
of a feather, to which kreosote was added if
lhe granulations were alow, or the sloughs
tardy in becoming loose. Under this dressing
tbe moat formidable burns have been healed ;
and even when lhe face has been involved,
there has been scarcely any consideiable de
formity. In one of our patients, the face be
ing horribly burned by an accidental explosion
of gunpowder, (he grains of powder having
been imbedded in the skin, very great appre
hensions were indulged that the discoloration
thus produced would permanently disfigure
and deform the countenance. But. after the
persistent application of the flour for three
successive days, and until lhe tumefaction of
the face and head had subsided, it was found
that, with a few applications of lhe lime-water
dressing, the cicatrization was complete, and
even lhe discoloration was removed
If this simple remedy were resorted to in
the severe scalds sometimes occurring from
explosions of steamboat boilers, drc., there can
be little doubt tbat the fatality of such burns
would be very rare; while the popular and
mischievous methods of applying raw cotton,
oil. molasses, salt, alcohol, spirits of turpen
tine, sugar of lead water, ice, dtc , to exten
sive and deep burns, are. all of them, injuries,
and often destructive to life.— •ScitKiific Amtri
cna.
Luni>o.v Isdostrial ExHintTios.—The Lon
don correspondent of lite National Intelligen
cer writes, nnder date of Sth inst.:
The great industrial exhibition of 1851 is
going on exceedingly well as respects its pre
liminary arrangements. Manchester will
raise at least tee tAoaMxd poands, and Liver
pool and all others of onr principal places in
proportion. We believe it is intended that the
fond to bo raised for carrying out the work is
to be subscribed by British subjects or by
foreign merchants domiciled in England.—
The exhibition is to be opened on the Ist of
Mav, 1851, but articles intended for exhibition
cannot be received after the Ist of March in
clusive. The site of the building to be erected
is fixed by her Majesty on the sou'h side ot
Hyde Park, where it will cover a space of from
16 to 20 acres, or about 1.000.000 of square
feel. The productions of all nations will be
exhibited together under one general classifi
cation. The articles exhibited are to be di
vided into the tollowing foursectins:
Ist. Kmc uMterioZs and produce, illustrative
of the nararef prediKtwns on which human in
dustry is employed.
2dly. Machinery for agricultural, manufac
tunug, engineering, and other purposes, and
mechanical inventions, illustrative of the agents
which human ingenuity brings lo bear upon
the products of nature
3dly. .Wawa/'acrarss illustrative of lhe resaZrs
produced by the operation of human industry
j upon natural products.
I 4thly. ScuZytars, models, and the plastic art
1 generalh, illustrative of the taste and skill
I displayed in such applications of human in-
■ The building is tu be provided lo the ex
hibitors tree ol rent, and will be fireproof. —
The objects for exhibition to be delivered at
budding in the Park, at the charge and
exhibitors; but no charges of any
kmdwiU be made whilst they remain there.—
Lolomil and foreign goods wilt be admitted
tree of duty for exhibition, but not for sale or
internal consumption All articles received
wilt bo considered as bonded goods. The
Keyal VommisMoners are in communication
I with the Foreign Office concerning the mean
• of informing foreign Governments of the ar
rangements making for the exhibition. Th<
. French Government has* however, taken th<
inilaitive. without wailing for official informs
lion upon the subject. It has appointed 1
committee of scientific men, manufacturers
&c. .to take the necessary measures for cans
ing the various productions of France to bt
transmitted to England, and for establishing
official communications with the Royal Com
missioners iu England. M. Charles Dupiti, s<
advantageously known for his various publi
cations on the commerce, manufactures, &c
of England, is at the head of '.he French com
mittee. Similar committees are about
formed at Berlin, Vienna, Brussels. Madrid,
&c. By the last overland mail from India we
learn that the contributions from thence wili
be of the most ingenious and costly descrip
tion. We hope to hear very soon of the for
mation of a committee on the behalf of the
United States, to arrange for the transmission
of the various articles «>f taste, manufacturing,
and mechanical skill* lhe cultivated product
of the soil, and the beautiful productions ol
1 nature, which you so abundantly possess, and
which need only to be seen to place the char
acter ofyour people, and lhe capabilities of
your country, in a very high and enviable po
sition. The English ladies are entering hearti
ly into the business, and a committee has been
formed, at the head of which is the Duchess ol
Sutherland, to co operate in carrying out the
design of the exhibition. Better than all, the
workmen and artisans themselves are stirring
in the matter, and are subscribing their mites,
aud doing all they can to help the design uiung.
‘Such a cause,’ says a morning paper, ’cannot
fail of success. Its promotion, in the present
shape, is certainly a novelty; on a smaller
scale, and with partial effect, the experiment of
industrial conventions has been already tri
umphantly tried; but it was an idea as new as
it was felicitous to consider alt mankind as one
people, and to transform the metropolis of
Britain into the hospitable rendezvous of the
world.’ In a speech replete with imaginative
eloquence, LonPCarlisle announced some us
lhe distinctive features of the exhibition. ‘lts
two stages are to be different in their respect
ive characters. Up to a certain point, the un
dertaking is to be exclusively British ; beyond
this, it is to be universal. The completion is
to be international; the preliminaries national.
We are to provide accommodations for the
works exhibited, and an hospitable welcome
for the exhibitors. As a natural consequence*
the arrangements rest with ourselves alone. —
When these are once completed, our peculiar
functions cease, and the representatives of a l
nations step in to share the entertainment we
have prepared.’
Mount Vernon.
BY ORMOND.
it was a wish* cherished from childhood, to
tread upon the spot consecrated as the home
and lovely resting place of George Washing
ton
Some years had rolled on die car of time,
and brought many a change over lhe spirit of
my youthful dreams, but this desire had never
relaxed its hold upon my heart. And why
should it?
If the wild Mussulman will cheerfully en
dure the hardships of a pilgrimage across the
broad and trackless deserts of Arabia, to pay
his homage at the shrine of his false leader—if
the antiquarian will toil with the self-devotion
of a martyr, to identify the grave of some sage
or bard, whose body, centuries since, moulder
ed beneath the clods of the valley—if lhe stoical
Indian, when driven from bis native land, as
from some high eminence he casts his last lin
gering glance back upon his home, with throb
bing heart ejaculates. “Oh ! the graves of rny
fathers!” why, I ask, may notan American
delight to visit the former home, and drop a
grateful tear at the urn of the Great Father of
his country ?
Circumstances had brought me to the me
tropolis which bears his name, and I at once de
termined so favorable an opportunity should not
be lost. Accordingly, one bright morning in
June, three of my frnnds and myself chartered
a sadi oat, with the intention of visiting this
spot, and enjoying the additional pleasure af
forded by a view of lhe beautiful and pictu
resque scenery which everywhere borders the
Potomac between Washington and Mount
Vernon. To describe the fine view of Alex
andria—the high bluffs and gentle slopes so
agreeably alternating on either bank of this no
ble river—lhe stately farm-houses of the
wealthy Virginia proprietors—the little white
cabins of the fishermen close by the water’s
edge—the dense primeval foreMs and shady
parks —the bold front of Fort Washington,
whose black engines of death, looking out a
cross the dark channel, under the • floating stars
and stripes,” bid defiance to the foes of free
dom—would be foreign to my purpose.
Suffice it to say. then, that after a pleasant
voyage of a few hours, quite unexpectedly the
little cupola, from an opening amid the shaded
trees, told us the welcome news of our ap
proach to lhe hallowed spot.
Wo hastened to laud, and stand upon the
soil once trod by the foot of him whose name
has become the watchword of freedom in every
portion of the civilized globe.
We M«*cund«d the emtneticc.nn which stands
ffirtteneraMe manmon. thrnirpue* wu»u»
covers the entire slope towards the river, and
gives it su romantic and lovely an appear
ance.
The outbuildings which first came in view
bore the marks of age and dilapidation, al
though, despite these scars of lime, traces of
their former neatness and precision could easi
ly be detected by lhe careful observer.
The old mansion-house itself bears its years
remarkably well, and with a little care and pro
lection, in its old age, undoubtedly would
stand for a long time yet. it is built after the
ancient style of architecture, adopted by the
affluent planters of the “Old Dominion,” fifty
or a hundred years ago, fronted on the river
side with a light piazza, and crowned with a lit
tle cupola.
Mr W., the present proprietor, very kindly
gave us permission to wander over the premi
ses at our pleasure, and directed a servant to
show us through those parts of the house
strangers are permitted to visit.
We were at first shown through the large
hall, or main entrance, in which hangs in a
glass case the celebrated key of the Bastile,
presented to Washington by Lafayette. There
is nothing about it terrific or forbidding, noth
ing udieative of the horrid tragedies in which
it has acted a part. There it hangs, a silent
monitor of "man’s inhumanity to man.” Un
der it is placed an ’ Old Arm Chair,” of rather
antique appearance, occupied by him in his
hours of study
Passing from the hall through a small room
which had been set apart as ihe private study
of Washington, and in which he was accus
tomed to transact all his business of state in re
tireinent, we noticed among the paintings of
revolutionary memory which decorate the wall,
a fine ininature of him* said to be lhe most ac
curate ever taken.
We then entered the large room in which he
entertained his visitors In one corner stands
an organ and some other relics in various
parte es iho room ; but by far the most curious
object is the marble mantle. This also was
presented by Lafayette II is of line Italian
marble, ornamented with fignres in bass relief ■
ol the most splendid workmanship They are
representations of rural scenes, aud such as
would have welt suited him who preferred the
olive of peace to the laurel of war.
As we walked from the house towards the
garden, we were met by deer bounding through
the park, and cheered by the melodious notes
of the birds that carolled amid the wide spread
ing boughs above us.
There, too, time’s effacing finger had done
its work since the great and good man depart
ted, leaving but few mementos, feeble links
connecting the past with the present.
We were, however, much delighted wi.h
the neat order and arrangement of its plats—
lhe choice and beautiful flowers aud plants
—the orange and lemon trees heavily laden
with their golden fruit, which are thriving un
der their present owner.
Leaving these, and following a rugged, bro
ken pathway which led us down towards the
bankufthe river, we soon stood by lhe sleep
ing ashes of George Washington I No strong
enclosure forbids too near approach No lofty
marble pile astonishes the eye He rests as he
lived, in all the simplicity of nature. The tomb
is built of brick, plain and unadorned. The
door is made of bars of iron, through which
may be seen lhe marble sarcophagus in which
he reposes in the sleep of death, and by his side
that of his beloved companion in life. On the
top of his. are the coat of arms of his country,
and the simple inscription “General George
Washington.’’ On hers, “Mary Washington.”
On a small marble slab, placed above the door,
is the following:
•‘Within this enclosure rests ’he remains of
Gen George Washington.”
The tall oak. intervening its branches with
the cypress and laurel, overshadow it remind
ing us of his firmness, his fame, and his loss.
The wild vine clambers up to its top.
In short, nature seems lo have claimed the
right of adorning the tomb of her favorite son.
and may the hand of inau never desecrate it.
As I gathered a few relics from the sacred spot,
what a crowd of associations came up I The
virtuous and upright boy —the hardy and per
severing youth, surveying the wild mountains
of his native State—lhe brave young soldier
on the colonial frontier—the bold champion of
independence —the confidant of all his coun
trymen —the fearless leader of her armies—'be
spirit that inspired fortitude in suffering, firm
ness in danger, moderation in success —the vic
torious hero resigning his mighty sword—the
humble citixen in voluntary retirement— the
chiefofa great republic by the unanimous
voice of a grateful nation —and at last the calm
and resigned captive of the great victor of
victors. While these and similar reflections
came in crowded and hurried succession
through my mind, 1 leaned upon the tomb and
wrote the following lines:
George Washington ! Immortal name !
Remotest shores hare beard ihy lame ;
Freedom’s last knell on earth shall toll,
Potomac cease her tide to roll.
Ere on thy deeds oblivion Ml,
And o’er thy name spread her dark pall.
Svkamkk Citt or Gt-asaow.— This elegant
new steamer is about to commence her regu
lar route between New York and Glasgow.
Bbe will carry both passengers and freight.
The cabin passage is put down at the low rate
of
AUGUSTA, GA., WEDNESDAY APRIL 10, 1850.
CONGRESSIONAL.
PROCEEDINGS OF CONGRESS.
From the Charleston Mercury.
DEATH OF MR. CALHOUN
Washington, April Ist, 1850.
Congress assembled to-day. at twelve o’clock,
and all business was suspended, waiting the
annonneemen that lhe greatest light of the age
j had been extinguished—the greatest intellect
of modern times had been stilled—by the hand
of Death. It was a solemn scene to witness.
Both Chambers were crowded to overflowing,
and the stillness that pervaded the vast assem
blage, told plainly that some great calamity
had happened to the Country. John C. Cal
houn, a name identified with ail that is pure,
and noble, and patriotic, is no more. He
sleeps in death, and lhe whole people gather
around his bier, and deplore the inexorable
decree that consigns him to the tomb
The Senate of the United States is assem
bled. Judge Butler arises in his place, and,
with deep and poignant emotion, addresses
himself to his solemn task. In a very tremu
lous and sorrowful voice be announces the
death of his colleague, and, while not a breath
disturbs the deathlike quiet of the scene, he
thus touchingly and eloquently announces the
sad and melancholy event:
Mr. President: I rise to discharge a most
mournful duty, and one which devolves in it
considerations, well calculated to arrest the at
tention of this body. It is to announce the
death of my late colleague, the honorable John
Caldwell Calhoun. He died at his lodgings
in this city on yesterday morning, at half past
seven o’clock. He was conscious of his ap
proaching end, and tuel death with fortitude
and uncommon serenity. Ha bad many ad
monitions of its approach, and doubttaw.had.
not been indiffin'ent to them WiUi his usbaf?
repugnance Co professions, he said little for ef
fect on the world; and his last. k hpur* were an
= \-.inphfi of b*# I’fe'itud char*ct«r—trmlj
and rimpifcffty. For some years past Mr. Cal
houn lias been suffering under a pulmonary
complaint, and under its effects could not have
reckoned on auy but a short existence; such
was his own conviction. The immediate cause
of bis death was an affection of the heart. A
few hours before he expired, he became sensi
ble of his situation, and when he was unable to
speak, his eye and look evinced recognition
and intelligence of what was passing. One of
the last directions he gave, was to a dutiful son,
who had been attending him, to put away
some manuscripts which had been written a
short lime before under his direction. Mr
Calhoun was the least despondent man I ever
knew. He had in an eminent degree the self
siistaiiiing power of intellect The last place,
and his last remarks, are exemplifications ol
what I have just said. Mental determination
sustained him, while all others were in des
pair. We saw him a few days ago in a seat
near me, and which he had so long occupied ;
we saw the struggle of a great mind, exerting
itself to sustain and overcome the weakness
and infirmities of a feeble body. It was lhe ex
hibition of a wounded eagle, with his eyes
turned to wards the heavens in which he had
soared but into which his wings could never
carry him again. Mr. President, Mr. Calhoun
has lived in an eventful period of our Repub
lic, and has acted a distinguished part. I sure
ly da not venture too much when I say that his
reputation forms a striking part of a glorious
history. Since 1811 until this time, he has
been responsibly connected with lhe Federal
Government, as Representative. Senator*
Cabinet Minister and Vice President. He
has been identified with the greatest events in
the political.history of our country, and I hope
I may be permitted to say that he has been
tqual to ail the duties which were devolved
upon him. In the many critical junctures in
which he was placed, having to act a responsi
ble part, he always acted a decided part, it
would not become me, as his friend, to venture
on the judgement which awaits his memory;
that will be performed by posterity. Before
the impartial tribunal of History, it may be that
he will have had the fact, and will have given
to him the judgement, that has been awarded
to Chatham. 1 would do the memory of tny
friend injustice, were I not to speak of his life
in the spirit of History. The dignity of his
whoU character would rebuke any tone of re
mark which truth and judgment would not
sanction.
Mr. Calhoun was a native of South Caroli
na and was born in Abbeville District, on the
18th March. 1782. He was of Irish family.
His father, Patrick Calhoun, was born in Ire
land. and at early age came to Pennsylvania*
and thence to the Western part of Virginia, .
and after Braddock’s defeat moved to South
Carolina, tn 1756 he and his family gave
name to what is known as lhe Calhoun Settle
ment. in Abbev.lle District. The mother of
my Colleague was a Miss Caldwell, born in
Charlotte comity. Virginia. The character of
his parents had uo doubt a sensible influence
on lhe destiny of their distinguished son. His
mother belonged ton family of .Revolutionary
heroes ; two of her brothers were distinguished
in the war; their names and achievements are
uot left to tradition, but constitute pan of the
history of times. Mr, Calhoun was born in
ohiuouary war, and in iHschildhoud feu
the influence of its exciting traditions. He de
rived from the paternal stock, intellect and
self-reliance; and from the Caldwells, enthusi
asm and impulse The traditions of the Revo
lution had a sensible influence on his temper
and character. Mr. Calhoun, in his childhood,
had but limited advantages of what is termed
literary tuition. His parents lived in a newly
settled country, and among a sparse population
This population had little intercourse with the
lower country of Carolina, aud was sustained
by emigrants from Virginia and Pennsylvania.
There was of course but limited means of in
struction for children, and they imbibed most
of their lessons from conversation with lheir
parents. Mr. Calhoun has alway expressed
himself deeply sensible to that influence.
At the age of thirteen he was put under lhe
charge of his brother-in-law, Dr. Waddell, in
Columbia county, Georgia. Scarcely had he
commenced his literary . course, before his
father and aster died. His brother-in-law,
Dr. Waddell, devoted himself, about ’his time,
to his clerical duties, and was a good deal ab
sent from home. On his second marriage, he
resumed the duties of his Academy, and in
his nineteenth year, Mr. Calhoun put himself
under lhe charge of this distinguished teacher.
It must not be supposed that his mind* before
this time, had been unemployed. He had
availed himself of the advantages of a small
library, and had been deeply inspired by his
reading of history, it was under such in
fluence that he entered the academy of his
preceptor. His progress was rapid ; he look
ed forward to a higher .arena with lhe great
est eagerness. He became a student in Yale
College in 1802, and graduated two years
afterwards, with the distinction of a young
man of great abilities, and with the rtspect
and confidence of his preceptors and fellows
Whatthey have said and thoughtofhim would
have given any man a high reputation. Il is
the pure fountain of a clear reputation. If lhe
stream has met with obstructions they were
such as have only showed its beauty and ma
jesty. After he had graduated, Mr. Calhoun
studied law, and for a few years practised in
lhe Courts of South Carolina, with a reputa
tion that is descended to the profession. He
was remarkable for some traits that have since
characterized him. He was clear in his pro
positions, and candid in his intercourse with
his brethten. The truth and justice of lhe
law inculcated themselves on his mind, and
when armed with these he was a great advo
cate. His forensic career was, however, too
limited to make a prominent part of the his
tory of his life. He served for a few years
in the Legislature of his native State, and his
great mind made an impression on her statutes,
some of which have had a great practical ope
ration on the concerns of society. From the
Legislature of his own State he was transfer
red to Congress, and from this time his career
has been a part of the history of the Federal
Government. Mr. Calhoun came into Con
gress at a time of deep and exciting interest—
at a crisis of great magnitude It was a crisis
of gr* at peril to those who had to act in it,
but of subsequent glory to the actors, and has
become a part of .the common history of ihe
country. The invincibility of Great Britain
had become a proverbial expression, and a
war with her was full of terrific issues. Mr.
Calhoun found himself at once in a situation
of high responsibility-—one that required more
than speaking qualities and eloquence to fill
lhe spirit of the people—it required discre
tion. The energy and ardour of youth were
to be employed in affairs requiring the mature
qualities of a Statesman. Tbe part which
Mr. Calhoun acted, at thia time, has been
. approved and applauded by contemporaries,
and now forms a part of the glorious history of
those lunes. The names of Clay, Calhoun,
Cheves, Lowndes, Grundy, Porter, and others,
carried associations with them, that reached
half of lhe Nation; their clarion notes pene
trated the Army; they animated the people,
and sustained, from despondency, Uie adminis
tration of the Government with such actions
and in such scenes the most eventful in our
1 history. To say that Mr. Calhonn did not
play a second part, is no common praise, in
debate he was equal with Randolph, and in
! council he commanded the respect and con-
I tide nee of Madison. At this period of his
life* he had the quah’ies of Themis'.ocles to
inspire confidence, which, after all, is lhe high
est of earthly qualities ; it is a mystical some
thing that is felt, but cannot be described. The
event of tbe war was brilliant and honorable
to both statesmen and soldiers, and their his-
5 lory may be read with enthusiasm and delight.
5 The war terminated with honor, but the mea
‘ sures which had to be taken in a transition to a
’ peace establishment, was full of difficulty and
s einbarrasment. Mr. Calhoun, with his usual
J intrepidity, did nut hesitate to take a response
‘ ble part. Under the influence of a broad pa
triotism, he acted with uncalculating liberality
tu all tbe interests that were involved, and
which were brought under review in Con
gress. His personal adversary at this time,
in bis admiration for his genius, paid Mr. Cal
houn a beautiful compliment for his noble and
v national sentiments. At lhe lertuinatioti of
Mr. Madison’s administration Mr. Calhoun
II bad acquired a commanding reputation; he
i- was regarded as one of lhe of tbe Repub
r< tic. In 1817 Mr. Monrue invited him to a
place in his Cabinet Mr. Calhoun’* friends
L doubted the propriety of his accepting it; and
e some of them thought that he would put a
high reputation at hazard in this new sphere of
uction. Perhaps lheir migaeittiph fired his
( high and gifted intellect. the
place, and went into the War i un
der circtiinstances that might ikavt- appalled
. other men. His success has beeti Jcknowledg.
•d. What was complexed and confused he
reduced to simplicity and nrtlep. His organi
zation of the War Deparlmet I and bis ad
ministration of its undefined rl'ities, have
made an impression of an autb-. s having the
stamp of originality and tb* h elion of trial.
To applicant* for office, Mr. made
j few promises, und hence haw* dot accused
I of delusion and deception. hen a public
trust was involved ho would not r dmprotnise
with duplicity or temporary, expediency. At
the expiration of Mr. Monroe a odmioisiratinn,
Mr. Calhoun's name becatjMaplMinetted with
the Presidency, and from thalthr : to his death,
he bad to share the fate of all occu
py prominent situations '£h.S£ remark able
canvass for the President to suctewdMr. Mon
roe, terminated in the returning dis- ,
tinguished men to the House >f Representa
tives, from which one was to H elected. Mr.
Calhoun was elected Vice President, by a
large majority. He took bis seat it) the Senate,
as Vice President, on the 4th ol March. 1825,
having remained in the War De»)Artmenl over !
seven years. Whilst he was Vice President
he was placed in some of lhe most trying
.cones in any man’s life. I don now choose
to refer to anything that can have the elements
of controversy; but I may be perr..itted to speak
of my friend and colleague in .'n character in
which all will join in paying hth» sincere res
pect. As a presiding officer os’ this body he
had the undivided respect; o! its memheis.
He was punctual, methodical and accurate,
and had a high regard for the di-nity of the
Semite, which, as a presidingffficer, he en
deavored to maintain. He de
bate as an houp-ahle coiilesl'?YUH;teii*pC for
gree. teg afa ’ and
propriety.
> Upon General Haythe Senate,
-uu -
Ciffnoun reigned the Vice Presrdericy, and
was elected to his place. All wilt now agree
that such a position was environed with diffi
culties and dangers. His owy State was under
the ban, and he was in the Na.iqnal Seriate to
do her justice under his coiistih&ißWai obliga
tions That part of his life posterity will re
view, and will do justice to i . After his Sen
atorial term had expired, he went into retire
ment, by his own consent.
The death of Mr. Upshur, bo full of melan
choly associations, made a vacancy in the
State Department, and it wa.< by the common
consent of all parlies that Mr. Calhoun was
called to fill it. This was a tribute of which
any public man might well be proud. It was
a tribute to worth, ability and experience.—
Under Air. Calhoun’s counsel, Texas was
brought into the Union. His name is associat
ed with one of the most remarkable events of
history—that of one natiou being annexed to
another, by voluntary consent. Mr. Calhoun
was but the agent to bring about this fraternal
association. It was a conjunction under the
sanction of his name, and by an influence
exerted through I is great and intrepid mind.—
Mr. Calhoun’s connection with the Executive
Department of the Government terminated
with Mr. Tyler’s adnrnistration. As a Secre
tary of State, he won the confidence and re
spect of foreign ambassadors, and his dis
pa’ches were characterized by clearness, sa
gacity and boldness.
He was not allowed to remain in retirement
long For the last four years he has been a
member of this body, and has been engaged
in discussions that have deeply excited and
agitated the country. He has died among
them. 1 had never had any particular asso
ciation with Mr. Calhoun until I became his
colleague. I had look d upon his fame as
others had done, and I have admired his char
acter; there are those here who know more as
him than I do. I shall not pronounce any
such judgment as shall be subject s o controver
sy or criticism; but I will say as a matter of
justice, from my own personal knowledge*
that I never knew a fairer man in argument,
ora juster man in purpose. His intensity al
lowed little compromise ; whilst he did not
qualify his own positions to suit the temper of
the times, he appreciated unmasked proposi
tions of others. As a Senator* he commanded
the respect of lhe ablest men of the body of
which he was a member, and I believe I may
say where there was no political bias to in
fluence the judgment, he had the confidence
of his brethren. As a statesman, Mr. Cal
houn’s reputation belongs to the history of h?s
country, and I commend itio his countrymen
and posterity. In my opinion, Mr. Calhoun
deserved to occupy the first rani; as a parlia
mentary speaker. Hdhad always before him
lhe dignity of purpose, and he spoke to an
end from a full mind. He expressed his ideas
with clearness, simplicity and force, and in
language that seemed to be lhe vehicle of hie
thoughts and motives. His thoughts escaped
from his mind like arrows from a well drawn
bow ; they had both the aim and strength of
a skillful archer. He seemed to have had lit
tle regard for ornament, and wfien he used
figures of speech they were only for illustra
tion Hi* manner and countenance were his
heat and in th-.,*- utre wa* an-ex-
of ”
the'grbat Athenian orator and statesman— they
seem an indication of the nrtin tn speaking
Mr. Calhoun, as a man andas a neighbor —I
hope I may speak ofhim in a sphere in which
all wilHik'e to contemplate kirn—whilst he was
a gentleman of striking deportment, he was a
man of primitive looks and simple manner ;
he had the hardy, virtuous, and simple taste of
the Republican Artizan ; no one disliked os
tentation and display more than he did.—
When I say he was a good neighbor. I imply
more than’l have expre=sed; it is summed up
under the word justice. I will venture to say
that no one in his private relations could ever
assert that Mr. Calhoun treated him with in
justice. ur that he deceived him by professions.
His private character was characterized by a
beautiful propriety and was the exemplifica
tion of Truth. Justice, Temperance, and Fi
delity to his engagements.
1 will venture another remark. Mr. Cal
houn was fierce in his contMt with political ad
versaries. He did not stop in the fieht to
count losses or bestow favors; but he forgot
reseiumetits and forgave injuries inflicted by
rivals with signal magnanimity. Whilst be
spoke freely of their faults, he could with jus
tice appreciate the merits of all the publip men
of whom I have heard him speak. He wai
sincerely attached to the institutions of his
country, and desired to preserve them pure,
and make them perpetual.
In the death of Mr. Calhoun, one of the
brightest luminaries has been extinguished
from lhe political firmament. It is an event
which will produce a deep sensation through
out these broad lands. I have forborne to
speak of his domestic relations. They are
sacred, and I will not disturb them.
In conclusion, Mr. Butler submitted the
usual resolutions of mourning and condo
lence.
Mr. Clay. Mr. President, prompted by my
own feelings of profound respect, I rise to
second the resolutions which have just been
read, and to add to what has been so well and
so justly said by the surviving colleague of the
illustrious deceased, a few words. .My per
sonal acquaintance with him commenced up
wards ol thirty-eight years ago. We entered
at the same time and together lhe House °f
Representatives, at the other end of this build
ing. The Congress of which we thus became
members was that among whose deliberations
and acts was the declaration of war against the
most powerful nation, aw it respects us, in the
world. During the parliamentary discussions
which arose in preparation for that great
event, as well as those which took place when
the resolution was finally adoped. no member
displayed a more lively and patriotic sensibili-
ty of the wrongs which led to that awful event
than lhe diseased whose death we all unite in
deploring. Ever active, ardent, able, no one
was ui advance of him in advocating the
cause of the country, and in denouncing the
iujnstice which compelled that country to ap
peal to arms. Os all the Congresses with
which 1 have had an acquaintance since my
entry into the service of the Federal Govern
ment, in none, in my opinion* have been as
sembled such a galaxy of eminent and able
u>en as were in those Congresses which de
clared the war, and which immediately follow
ed the peace. In that splendid assemblage,
the star which has just set stood bright and
brilliant. It wa? my happiness, during a great
portion oflhe time, to concur with him upon
al! great questions of national policy. During
the session at which the war was declared we
were messmates, as were other distinguished
members of Congress from his owu patriotic
State. I was afforded by the intercourse which
resulted from that Tact, as well as from subse
quent intimacy and intercourse which arose
between us, an opportunity to form an esti'
mate not merely of his public but his private
life ; and no matt with wh uu I have ever been
acquainted exceeded him in habits of temper
ance, in all the simplicity of social intercourse,
and in the tenderness, and affection and re
spect, which he extended towards that lady who
iow tnourus more than any other the event
which has happened. And such, Mr. Presi
dent was ihe high estimate which 1 formed of
his transcendent talents, that if al the end of
hw service in tne Executive Department under
lhe administration of Mr Monroe, he bad been
translated to tbe highest office of the Govern
ment* 1 should have fell perfectly assured that
under his auspices, the honor and prosperity,
and lhe glory of our country would have been
saf ly placed. Sir, he has gone. No more
•hall these halts witness from yonder seal the
flashes of that keen and penetrating eye; no
more shall we hear that torrent of eloquent*
concwe. aud compact logic from hre (ips.—
Those eyes and those hps are closed forever.
And when* Mr. President, w ill that great va
eancy, created by the event to which we are
now alluding. wh*»n will it be filled by an
equal amount of parity, of patriotism, and of
devotion to what h« considered to be lhe beat
interests of his country. Sir, this is not the
proper occasion, nor should I be lhe proper
person, to attempt a delineation of h ; s charac
ter* or tbe powers of bis mind.
1 wili only few words that he pos
sessed a ioity genius, that in his powers of gen
eralization of those subjects of which hit mind
treated, I have seen him surpassed by no man.
and the charm* and captivating influence of
his colloquial powers have been felt by all who
have ever witnessed them lam his senior,
Mr. President, iu years and in nothing else.
According to lhe course of nature I ought to
s ' have preceded him. The Divine Ruler of hu
■ man events has determined otherwise 1 feel
I ■ that I shall linger but a short time, and that I
: sha’l soon follow him. And how brief, how
i ! rapidly passing is the period of existence al
j lowed even to lhe youngest amongst us. Sir
i ought we not all be profitted by the contein
I plation of this event? Ought we not to draw
: fr om it the conclusion how unwise it is to in
i dttlge in the asperity of debate ? How un wise
! it is to yield ourselves to the animosities of par
ty feeling ; bow wrong is it to indulge in those
J unhappy and hot strifes into which we are too
i often led in the discharge of the high duties
which we are called upon to perforin .* In con
; elusion, Mr. President, I desire to express the
j most cordial sympathy, and sentiments of the
deepest condolence, for those who stand in the
nearest relations to him. I trust that we shall
all profit by lhe singular merits of his character,
and learn, relying upon our own judgements
i and the dictates of our own conscience, to dis
i charge our duties as he did, according to his
best conception of them, faithfully and to the
last.
Mr. Webster. I hope the Senate will in
j dulge me in addressing to it a very few words,
i My apology for this presumption is the very
long acquaintance which has subsisted between
Mr Calhoun and myself. We are of the same
age. I made my first entrance in the House
of Representatives in iMay. 1813. I there
found Mr. Calhoun, who had already been an
efficient member of that body for two or three
yoirs. I found him then an active and efficient
member of the Assembly to which he belonged,
taking a decided part, and exercising a decided
influence, in all its deliberations. From that
day to the day of his death, amidst all the strife
of party and politics, there has subsisted be
tween us always, and without interruption, a
great degree of personal kindness. Differing
on many great qnextione connected n uh
the frtsiitoritms aud good of the country, those
difference’s never interrupted our personal arid
social intercourse. I have been present at
most of (he distinguished instances of theexhi
*»f his talents in debate. -1 have always
he.ird him with pidhsure, often wim n.uth in
struction, not unfrequently with the highest
degree of admiration Mr. Calhoun was cal
culated to be a leader in whatever association
of political friends he was thrown. He was a
man of undoubted genius, and of commanding
talent. All the country admit that his mind was
perceptive and vigorous: it was clear, quick,
and strong. Sir, lhe eloquence of Air. Cal
houn, or the manner of his exhibition of his
sentiments in public bodies, was part of his in
tellectual character. It grew out of the quali
ties of his mind, it was plain, strong, terse,
condensed, concise, sometimes unsurpassed,
still always reacting ornament, not often seek
ing fai for illustrations, his power, consisted in
the felicitousness of his expression, in the close
ness of his logic, and iu the earnestness and en
ergy of his manner. These are lhe qualities,
as I think, that had enabled him, through such
a long course of years, to speak often, and yet
always command attention. His demeanor as
a Senator is known to us all, is appreciated,
venerated by us. No man was more respecta
ble to others. No man conducted with greater
decorum, and no man with greater dignity. I
think there is not one of us that fell when he
last addressed us from his seat in the Senate,
with a form still erect, with a voice by no
means showing such a degree of physical weak
ness as did in fact possess him. with clear tones,
and impressive and most imposing manner—
there is none of us, I think, who did not ima
gine that we saw before us a Senator of Rome
revived. Sir, 1 have not, in public or private
life, known a person more assiduous in the dis
charge of his appropriate duties. I have known
no man who wasted less of life in what is called
recreation, or employed less of life in any pur
suits not connected with the immediate dis
charge of his duty. He seemed to have no re
creation but in the pleasure of conversation
with his friends. Out of the Chambers of Con
gress he was either devoting himself to the ac
quisition of knowledge, pertaining to tbe im
mediate subject of the duty before him, or else
he was indulging in those social interviews in
which he so much delighted. My honorable
friend from Kentucky has spoken, in just
terms, of his colloquial talents. They certainly
were singular and eminent. There was a
charm in his conversation, and he delighted
especially in colloquial intercourse with young
men. I suppose that there has been no man
among ns who had more winning manners in
their intercourse and conversation with young
men than Mr. Calhoun.
I believe one great source of his influence
Was his conversational talent. I believe it is
to that, as well as to a conciotisness of his
high integrity, and the highest reverence for
his talents and ability, that has made him so
endeared an object to the people of the State
to which he belongs. Mr. President, his
was the elevated character resulting from un
spotted integrity, and uniinpeached honor. If
ha had aspirations they were high, and honora
ble, and noble. There was nothing grovel
ling, or low, or meanly selfish* that came near the
head or heart of Mr. Calhoun. Firm in his
purpose, perfectly patriotic and honest, as lam
quite sure he was. in the principles that he
espoused, and in lhe measure dial he defended,
aside from the large regard for that species of
dtsuneiidn that conducted him to eminent sta-
i diH foeuUlll u(’ Uic public, t ne Hot be
iruvu that,ho imbued
However, sir, he tn ay have differed from
others of us in his political principles, those
principles* and those opinions, will descend to
posterity under the sanction of a great name.
He had lived long enough* he had done
etiough and done so well* so successfully, so
honorably, as to connect himself for all lime
with the records of his country. He is now a
historical character Those of us who have
known him here will find that he has left upon
us—upon our minds and hearts an impression
of his person, his character, his performances,
that wht'.e we live will never be obliterated
We shall hereafter, I am sure, indulge in it as
a grateful recollection that we have lived in his
day; that we have been his cotemporaries;
that we have seen and heard him and known
him. We shall delight to speak ofhim to those
who are to come after us. When lhe tme
shall come that we ourselves shall go, one af
ter another, in succession. to our graves, we
shall carry with us a deep impression of bis
genius and character His honor and integri
ty, his amiable deportment in private life, and
the purity of his exalted patriotism.
Air. Rusk said: Mr. President, I hope it
will not be considered inappropriate for me
to say a word upon this solemn occasion. Be
ing a native of the same Btaie with the dis
tinguished Senator whose death has caused
such a gloom upon this body, and the audi
ence here assembled, 1 had the good fortune,
at an early period of my life, io make his ac
quaintance. Al that time he was just enter
ing on that bright career which is now termi
naled. 1 was then but a boy, with prospects
anything but flattering to me. At that period I
was indebted for words of kindness and en
couragement; and often since* in the most
critical positions in which I have been placed,
a recurrence to those words of encourage
ment have inspired me with resolution to
meet difficulties that beset my path. Four
years ago I had lhe pleasure of renewing
that acquaintance after an absence ol fifteen
years, and this took place after he had taken an
active part in lhe question of annexing Texas
to the United States, adding a new sense of
obligations to my feeling of gratitude. In the
stirring questions that have been agitated, it
was my misfortune sometimes to differ from
him, but it is a matter of heartfelt gratification
for me to know that our personal relations re
mained unaltered. And, sir, it will be a
source of pleasant though sad reflection to
me throughout life, to remember that on lhe
last day in which he occupied his seat in this
chamber* his body worn down by disease* but
his mind as vigorous as ever, we held a some
what extended conversation on the exciting
topics of that day, in which lhe same kind
teelings which had so strongly impressed me
in youth, were still manifested towards me by
ihe veteran statesman But he is gone from
amongst us. His voice will never again be
heard in this chamber. His active and vigor
ous mind will participate no more in our coun
sels. His spirit has left a world of ironble,
care, and anxiety, to join ’he spirits of those
pariols and statesmen who have preceded him
to a brighter aud belter world. If, as many
believe, lhe epirits of tbe departed hover
around the places they have left, I earnestly
pray that his may soon be permitted to look
back on our country—-which he has left in ex
citement, confusion, and apprehension —re-
stored to calmness, serenity and fraiornai feel
ings as broad as the bonds of our Union, and
as fixed as the elernal principles ot Justice in
which our Government has its foundation
Mr. Clemens said: Ido no expect to add
anything to wh&t ■ as been said of the illustrious
man whose lots we all so deeply deplore, but
silence, on an occasion like thia, would by no
means meet the expectations of those whose
representative I am. To borrow a figure from
Kentucky—the brightest star on the brilliant
galaxy of the Union has gone out, and Ala
bama claims a place among lhe chief mourn
ers over lhe event. Often differing with the
great Southern Statesman upon questions of
public policy, she has yet always accorded
due homage to his genius, and still more to
that blameless purity of life which entitles him
to tbe highest and noblest epitaph which can be
inscribed upon a mortars tomb. For more
than forty years an active participant in all the
fierce struggles of party, encompassed through
out that long period by the corrupting influ
ences to which the politician is so often sub
jected, his personal character not only remain
ed untouched, but unsuspected. He walked
through the flames, and even the h>*m of his
garment was unscathed. It is no part of my
purpose to enter into a relation of lhe public
services of John C Calhoun—that has already
been justlv done by his colleague. (Mr. But
ler,) but even that, in my judgment, was
unnecessary. Y ears after the celebrated Ther
' mupyis, a traveller, in visiting the spot* found
a monument with the simple inscription:
1 " Stranger, go tell in Lacedaemon, that we died
: in ottedience to her laws.” " Why is it, we
r asked, that the na res of those who fell here
are uot inscribed on tbe atone I ” " Because,
was lhe proud reply* it is impossible that a
- Greek shuttld ever forget. ° Thus, even so ft
- is of whom 1 speak. His acta are graven on
1 lhe hearts of bis countrymen, and time has not
i* the power to obliterate tbe characters thro ugh
s out this broad land. The meanest and mighti
o est river roils mingling with his lame forever.
\ Living man age remarkable above ail fur its
>. inteUigeuce, surrounded through life by men
o any one of whom would have marked an era
in the world’s history* and stamped the limes
• I in which he lived with immortality, Mr. Cal
[ houn yet attained an intellectual eminence
v not only unsurpassed, but unequalled in all
- its parts byan yof his great compeers. That
r great light is now extinguished ; a seat in this
i Sanate has been made vacant, which cannot
v be filled; the sad tidings nas been borne on
[. the lightning wings to ihe remote corners of
e the Republic, and millions of r reetnan are now
. mourning with us over one who was scarcely
B lower than the angels. And now, Mr. Pre
o sident, I must be permitted to express my
s gratification at what we have this day heard
_ and witnessed. Kentucky has spoken, and
a through ihe lips of one who is not only her
3 greatest Statesman, but lhe world’s greatest
3 living Orator. The great Expounder of the
I Constitution, whose massive intellect seems to
f comprehend and give clearness to all things
s beneath the sun, hath spoken for the Com
monwealth of Massachusetts. From every
j quarter the ablest and most exalted in the land
j have mingled with the voice of mourning
notes of the highest admiration. These crowd
. ed galleries, and these distinguished gentlemen
upon our floor, all indicated that here have
bards, artists* sages, reverently met to wave
each seperating plea of sect, claim* party and
degree, ail knowing him on whom nature all
honorshed.
, The question then being taken upon tbe
i resolutions they were adopted unanimously.
The president appointed Messrs. Davis, of
Mississippi, Atchison, Dodge, of Wisconsin,
Dickinson, and Green; the Committee to su
perintend lhe funeral arrangements. The Sen-
ate then adjourned to meet to morrow* at 12
o’clock, to attend the funeral obsequies.
Similar proceedings were had in the House*
and Messrs. Holmes, Winthrop, and Venable
spoke. J. E. C.
House*
The Rev. Mr. Gurley made an affecting
and appropriaW’fflid -beautiful prayer, com
prehending as its subject the melancholy event
which had taken place—the death of Mr. Cal
houn.
After ine reading oT the journal,
Mr. Vinton rose and said, that they might
expect in a little time to receive from the
Senate a message announcing the melancholy
event which was known to them all as a nation
al calamity. He moved, therefore, (instead of
the House proceeding to the ordinary legisla
tive business,) to suspend the rules, and that
the House lake a recess until such time, as
they might receive a message from the Senate.
Agreed to. and the House took a recess
At a quarter past one o’clock, lhe House
again assembled, and a message was received
from the Senate by Mr. Dickens, their Secre
tary, communicating in form the information
of the decease of tbe Hon. John C. Calhoun,
a Senator in Congress from rhe State of South
Carolina, and the proceedings of the Senate
in consequence thereof.
The resolutions of the Senate having been
read by the Clerk of the House of Represen
tatives*
Mr. Holmes, of South Carolina, rose, and
addressed the House as follows :
It becomes. Mr. Speaker, my solemn duty
to announce to this House the decease of the
honorable John. C. Calhoun, a Senator of the
Stale of South Carolina. He expired at his
lodgings in this city yesterday morning, at
seven o’clock. He lives no longer among the
living ; he sleeps the sleep of a long night
which knows no dawning. The Sun which
rose so brightly on this morning, brought to
him no healing in its beams.
We, the Representatives of our State, Come
to sorrow over the dead; but the virtue and
the life and the services of the deceased were
not confined by metes and bounds; but stand
ing on the broad expanse of this Confederacy*
he gave his genius to the States, and his heart
to his entire country. Carolina will not
therefore be suffered to mourn her honored
son in secret cells and solitary shades ; but her
sister States gather around her in this palace
of lhe nation, and bending over that bier* weep
as she weeps* and mourn with the deep, afflic
tive mourning of her heart. Yes, sir, her hon
ored son—honored in the associations of his
birth, which occurred when the echoes and the
shouts of freedom had not yet died along his
native hills, born of parents who had partaken
of the toils, been affected by the struggles, and
fought in the battles fur liberties—seemed as
if he were baptized in lhe very fount of free
dom. Reared amid the hardy sceneryofna-
ture, and amid lhe stern, pious, and reserved
population, unseduced yet by the temptations,
and unnerved by the luxuries of life, be gath
ered from surrounding objects, and from the
people of his association, that peculiar hue and
coloring which so transcendently marked his
life. Unfettered by the restraints of the school
house., he wandered in those regions which
surrounded his dwelling, unmolested and in
dulged those solitary thoughts, in rambling
through her mighty forests, which gave that pe
culiar cast of thinking and reflection to his
mighty soul. He was among a people who
knew but few books, and over whose minds
learning has not yet thrown its effulgence.
But they bad the Bible ; and with his pious pa
rents, he gathered rich lore, which surpasses
that of Greek or Roman story. At an age
when youths are generally prepared to scan
the classics, he was yet uninitiated in their rudi
Under .ha tuition of the veuerablo Ductor
Waddcl, UIB t<juicfchr ac
quired what that gentleman was able to impart,
and even then began to develope those mighty
powers of clear perception, rapid analysis,
quick comprehension, vast generalization, for
which he was subsequently so eminently dis
tinguished. He remained but a very short
time at this school, and returned again to his
rustic employment. But the spirit had been
awakened—the inspiration had come like to a
spirit from on high; and he felt that within him
were found treasures that learning was essen
tial to unfold. He gathered up his patrimony,
he hastened to the College of Yale, and there,
under the tuition of that accomplished scholar
and profound theologian, Rev. Dr. Dw ght, he
became in a short period, lhe first among lhe
foremost, indulging not in lhe enjoyments, in
the luxuries and ihe dissipations of a college
life, but with toil severe, with energy unbend
ing. with devotion to his studies, he became
(to use the language of a contemporary) **a
man among boys.’ Io a conflict intellectual
with his great master, the keen eye of Dr
Dwight discerned lhe great qualifications which
marked the man. and prophesied the honors
that have fallen in his pathway. He was soli
ary* and associated not much with his class.
He indulged yfis propensity to solitude; he
walked among lhe elms that surround that an
cient college; and in the cells, in lhe secret
shades of that institution, he felt that dawning
on his mind which was to precede the brighter
day; and raising himself from the materiality
around him, he soared on lhe wings ofcontem
plation to heights sublime, and wielding his
flight along the zodiac, raised his head among
ihe stars. The honors of the college became
his meed, and departing ’hence with the bless
ings and the benedictions of his venerable
instructor he repaired for a short period to the
school of Litchfield, and here imbibed those
principles of the common law, based upon
the rights of man, and throw : ng a cordon
around the British and the American citizen.
He left, and upon his return home was greeted
by the glowing presence of his friends, who
had heard from a distance lhe glad tidings of
his studies and his success. He look at once
his position among his neighbors He was
sent by them to the councils of lhe State, and
(here, amid lhe glittering array of lofty intel
lects and ennobled characters he became first
utri -'a first_
atno g the nrst.
But that sphere was too limited for the ex
pansibility of a mind which seemed to know
no limit but lhe good of all mankind. At the
age of twenty-eight he was transferred to this
hall; ha camo not sir, to a bower of ease; he
came notin the moment of a sunshine of tran
quility; became when the country was dis
turbed by dissension from within, and pressed
oui by the great powers of Europe, then con
tending for the mastery of the world, and
uniting and harmonizing in this, and Illi* alone
>—ihe destruction of American institution*, lhe
annihilation of American trade. The whole
coontry (boy a* I then was, I well remember)
seemed as if covered with an eternal gloom.
The spirits of lhe best men seemed crushed
amid that pressure, and lhe eye of hope scarce
found consolation in any prospect ot the fu
ture. But he had not been long in these hall,
before he took the guage and measurement of
lhe depth of these calamities, and the compass
of its breadth. He applied himself most vig
orously to the application of the remedies for
so vital a disease. He found that mistaken
policy had added tu lhe calamities on the ocean,
that slili further calamity of fettering, with a
restrictive system, the very motion, and ener
gies of the people. He looked down and saw
that there was a mighty pressure, a great
weight upon the resources ol this country,
which time had gradually increased, and he
resolved at once, with that resolution that
characterized him—with that energy that im
pelled him direct to bis purpose—to advise
what was considered a remedy 100 great almost
for the adv.ee of any other —at once, weak as
we were in numbers, unprepared as we were
in arms, diminished as were our resources to
bid defiance to Britain, and assume the altitude
of a conflicting nation for ns rights.
Fortunately for the country, that advice was
taken, and then lhe great spirit of America, re
leased from her shackles, burst up and made
her bear her incumbent, prostrate condition,
and stand erect before lhe people of lhe world,
and shake her spear in bold defiance. In that
war, his counsels contributed as much. I am
informed, as those of any man to its final suc-
I cess. At a period when our troops on the
frontier, under lhe command of lhe Governor
: of New York, were about to retire from the
line and that Governor had written to Mr
Madison that he had exhausted bis own credit,
t and the credit of all those whose resources he
could command, arid his means were exhaust-
I ed, and unless in a short period money was
: sent on to invigorate the troops, the war must
1 end, and our country b„w down io a victorious
i foe; sir, upon that occasion Mr. Madison be
: came so disheartened, that he assembled his
, counsellors, and asked for advice and aid, but
a advice and aid they had not to give. At length
l Mr. Dallas, the Secretary of the Treasury, said
a to Mr. Madison: you are sick; retire to your
it chamber; leave lhe rest to us. I will send to
i- die Capitol for the youthful Hercules, who
i- hitherto ha* borne th* war upou his shoulders,
r. and he will counsel us a remedy. Mr. Calhoun
la came. He advised an appeal to the Slates lor
i, the loan of their credit. It seemed aa if a new
yoL.LXIV- NEW SERIES VOL. XIV-NO. 15.
a light had burst upon the cabinet. His advice
s was taken. The States generously responded
to the appeal. These were times of fearful
a import. Wo were engaged in war with a na-
I lion whose resources were ample, while ours
t were crippled. Our ships of-war, sow in num
s her, were compelled to go forth on the broad
t bosom of the deep, to encounter those fleet*
i which had signalized themselves at the battles
f of Ahouker and Trafalgar, and annihilated
r the combined navies of France and Spain.
, But there wa« an inward strength—there was
an undying confidence—in the hearts of a free
1 people; and they went forth to battle and to
I conquest.
I Sir, the clang of arms and the sh».-uts of vic
r tory had scarcely died along the dark waters of
t the Niagara—lhe war upon the plains of Or
, leans had just gone out with a blaze of glory
> when all eyes were instinctively turned to
i this youthful patriot, who had rescued his
country in the dark hour of her peril. Mr.
Monroe transferred him to hrs Cabinet ; and
I upon that occasion, so confused was the De
partment of War, so complicated &disordered,
that Mr. Wm. Lowndes, a friend to Mr. Cal
houn, advised him against risking lhe high
honors he had achieved upon this floor, for the
uncertain victories of an Executive position.
But no man had pondered more thoroughly
the depths of his own mind and the purposes
of his own heart—none knew so well the un
daunted resolution and energy that always
characterized him; aud he resolved to accept,
' and did. He related to me what was extreme
ly characteristic ; he went into the Depart
ment, but became not of it for a while. He
gave no directions—he let tbe machinery move
> on by its own impetus. In tbe mean time he
gathered with that minuteness which charac-
, tcrized him, all the facts connected with the
i workings of the machinery—with that power
of generalization which was so remarkably
combined together in one system ; all tbe de
tached parts, instituted bureaus, imparting in-
> dividual responsibility to each, and requiring
from them that responsibility in turn, but unite
1 ing them all in beautiful harmony , aud creat
ing in the workings a perfect unity. And so
complete did that work come from his hands
that at tliis time there ha* been no change
1 material in this department, ft has passed
' through lhe ordeal of another war, and it still
remains fresh, and without symptoms of decay.
I He knew that if we were to have wars, we
should have the science to conduct them; and
he therefore directed his attention to West
Point, which, foaiered by his care, became the
' great school of tactics and of military discipline,
the benefit* of which have so lately been ex
perienced in tbe Mexican campaign.
But, sir, having finished this work, his mind
instinctively looked for some other great ob
ject on which to exercise it* power*. Hebe
held the Indian tribes, broken down by the
pressure and the advances of civilization, wast
ing away before the vices, and acquiring none
of the virtues, of lhe white man. His heart
expanded with a philanthropy as extensive as
the human race. He immediately conceived
the project of collecting them into one nation,
of transferring them to the other side of the
great river, and freeing them atoace from the
temptations and the cupidity of the Christiau
man.
Sir, he did not remain iu office to accom
plish this great object. But he had laid its
foundation so deep, he had spread out his
plans so broad, that he has reared to himself,
in the establishment of that people, a brighter
monument, more glorious trophies, than can
be plucked upon the plains of war. The tri
umphs of war are marked by desolated towns
and conflagrated fields; his triumphs will
seen in the collection of the Indian tribes, C du-T
stituting a confederation among themselves, x in
the schoolhouses in the valleys, in the churches
that rise with their spires from the hill-top, in
the clear sunshine of Heaven. The music of
that triumph is not heard in the clangor of the
trumpet, and the roiling of the drum, but
swells from the clang of anvil and the tones of
the water-wheel, and the cadence of the mill
stream, that rolls down for the benefit of the
poor red man.
Sir, he paused not in his career of useful
ness; he was transferred, by the votes of a
grateful people, to the chair of the second offi
cer of the government. There he presided
with a firmness, an impartiality, with a gentle
ness, with a dignity, that all admired. And yet
it is not given unto man to pass unscathed the
fiery furnace of this world. While presiding
over that body of ambassadors from sovereign
States, while regulating their councils, tho
tongue of calumny assailed him, and accused
of official corruption in the Riprap contract
Indignantly he left the chair, demanded of the
Senators an immediate investigation by a com
mittee, and came out of the fire like gold refin
ed in the furnace. From that time to the day
that terminated his life, no man dared to breathe
aught against the spotless purity of his charac
ter.
But while in that chair, Mr. Calhoun per
ceived that there was arising a great and mighty
influence to overshadow a portion of this land.
From a patriotic devotion to his country, he
consented, on this floor, in 1816, upon the re
duction of the war duties, to a gradual diminu
tion of lhe burdens, and thus saved the manu
facturers from annihilation. But that interest.
. then a mere stripling, weak, and requiring
nurture, fostered by this aliment, soon increas
!* c -‘ u ‘ p
might, and was inclined tyrannotislyto use ft
«• uq*iaut. tty at once ruai<nad his seat, gave
up his dignified position, mingled in tne strifes
of the arena, sounded the tocsin of alarm, wa
ked op the attention of lhe South, himself no
less active than those whom he thus aroused,
and at length advised his own Sta'e, heedless
of danger, to throw herself into the breach for
the protection of that saered Constitution
whose every precept he had imbibed, whose
every condition he had admired. Str, although
hostile fleets floated in our waters, and armies
threatened our cities, he quailed not; and at
length the pleasing realization came to him and
to the country, like balm to the wounded feel
ings, and by a generous compromise on all
parts, the people of the South were freed from
onerous taxation, and lhe North yet left to en
joy lhe fruits of her industry, and to progress
tn her glorious advancement in all that is vir
tuous in industry and elevated in sentiment.
Bet ha limited not hie scope to our domeetic
i horizon. He looked abroad at our relations
with the nations. He saw our increase of
, strength. He measured our resources, and
, wis willing at once to settle all our difficulties
with foreign powers on a permanent basis.
With Britain we had causes of contention, of
deep and long standing. He resolved if the
powers of his intellect could avail aught be
fore he departed hence, that these questions
should be settled for a nation's honor and a na
tion’s safety. He faltered not, I know (for I
was present) that when the Ashburton treaty
was about to be made—when there were ap
, prehensions in lhe cabinet that it would not be
, sanctioned by the Senate—a member of that
; cabinet called to consult Mr. Calhoun and to
ask if he would give it his generous support
The reply of Mr." Calhonn at that moment was
e ninently satisfactory, and its annunciation to
the cabinet gave assurance to the distinguished
, Secretary of State, who so eminently had con
, ducted this important negotiation. He at once
considered lhe work as finished ; for it is the
j union of action in the intellectual as in the phy
, sical world that moves the spheres into har
r- mony.
When that treaty was before lhe Senate, it
i was considered in secret session ; and I never
I shall forget, that sitting upon yonder side of
the Huuse, the colleague of Mr. Calhoun—
. who at that time was not on social terms with
him— tny friend, the honorable Mr. Preston,
whose heart throbbed with an enthusiastic love
of all that is elevated—left his seat in the Sen
ate. and came to my seat in the House, saying
I must give vent to my feelings: “Mr. Cal
houn has made a speech which has settled the
question of the Northeastern boundary. All
his friends —nay, all the Senators—have col
ic ted around to congratulate him, and I have
come out to express my emotions, and declare
thst h« has covered himself with a mantle of
glory.”
Sir, after awhile he retired from Congress;
but the unfortunate accident on board the
Princeton, which deprived Virginia of two of
her most gifted sons, members of the cabinet,
immediately suggested the recall of Mr. Cal
houn from his retirement in private life, and
the shades of his own domicil, to aid the coun
try in a great exigency. His nomination as
Secretary of Stste was sent to the Senate, arid,
without reference to a Committee, was unani
mously confirmed. Sir. when he arrived here,
hu perceived that tbe Southern country was
in imminent peril, and that the arts and in
trigue* of Great Britain were about to wrest
from us that imperial territory which ia now
the S ate of Texas. By his wisdom, and lhe
exercise of his great administrative talents, the
intrigues of Great Britain were defeated, and
that portion of the sunny South was soon an
nexed to this Republic.
With the commencement of Mr. Polk’s ad
ministration, he retired once more from public
life, but he retired voluntarily. Mr. Buchanan
(lor I might as well relate the fact) called upon
me, took me to the embrasure of one of those
windows, and said : “ I am to be Secretary of
Stale; the Pressident appreciates lhe high ta
lents of Mr. Calhoun, an I consider* the coun-
try now encircled by danger upon the Oregon
question. Go to Mr. Calhoun, and tender to
him the mission to the Court of St. James—
special or general, as he miy determine- with
tbe transfer of the Oregon question entirely to
his charge.’
Never can 1 forge; how the muscles of bis
face became tense, how his great eye rolled,
as he received the terms of the proposal. "No,
? i r — no , (he replied.) If lhe embassies of all
Europe were clustered into one, I would not
take it at this time ; my country is in danger ;
here ought to be the negotiation, and here
will I stand.” Sir* he retired to his farm ; but
the President, iu his inaugural, had indicated
so strongly his assertion of the entirety of the
Oregon treaty; had inspirited lhe people of
the vVest almost to madness, and in like man*
ner had dispirited the merchants of the East,
and of the North and South* that a presen i
ment of great dangers stole over lhe hearts of
ihe people, and a war seemed inevitable
the greatest naval power of lhe earth. Im*
peiled by lheir apprehensions, lhe merchants
sent a message to Mr. Calhoun, and begged
bitn again to return to the councils of the na
lion. His predecessor generously resigned.
He came, and when he came, though late, he
i beheld dismay on the countenances of all.
r There was a triumphant majority iu both parts
of this Capitol of the Democratic party, wno*
e with a lew exceptions, were for carrying out
tl he measures of Mr. Polk. The Whigs
I finding that they were too few to stem the cur’
i- rent, refused to breast themselves to the shock,
s But when Mr. Calhoun announced on the
floor of the Senate, the day after his arrival,
I his firm determination to resist and eave from
s the madness of the hour this great country,
a they immediately rallied, and soon his friends
1 in this House and in the Senate gathered
around him, and the country wassafe. Rea.
* sop triumphed, and the republic was relieved
i of the calamities of war. This was the last
> great work he ever consummated.
But he saw other evils; he bebeld this rep ub-
■ lie about to lose its poise from the derange
s me nt of its weightsand levers; he was anx-
■ ions to adjust the balance and restore theequi-
■ librium; he exercised his mind for'hat pur
pose; he loved this Union, for X hove often
i heard him breathe out that love; he loved the
equality of the states, because he knew that
1 upon that equality rested the stability es the
government; he admired the compact —the
Constitution of our fathers —and esteemed it
as a great covenant between sovereign stales,
which if properly observed would make us the
chosen people ol the world.
At length the acting of the spirit chafed the
frail tenement of mortality, and to the eye of
his friends, the tide of life began to ebb; but,
sir, with an undying confidence in his powers,
with a consciousness of the dangers which en
circled his physical nature, but without regard
to his own sufferings in the solitudes of dis
ease, unable in the midst of disease, even to
hold a pen, he dictated his last great speech.
That speech has gone forth to the world, and
the judgement ol that world will now impar
tially be stamped upon it.
Str, when his health began gradually to re
cover, his spirit impelled him, against the ad
vice of his friends, into the Senate chamber ;
arid there, with a manliness of purpose, with a
decision of tone, with a clearness of argu
ment, with a rapidity of thought, ho met and
overthrew his antagonists one by one, as they
came up to the attack. But, weakened by the
strife, altnough he retired victorious and en
circled with a laurel wreath, he felt exhausted
by his own efforts, and soon expired on the
plains. And now where is he I Dead, dead,
sir; lost to his country and his friends,
“ For him no more the blazing hearth shall burn.
Nor wile nor children more shall he behold/ 1
nor sacred home. But he shall shortly rest
amid his own native hills, with no dirge but
the rude music of the winds, and, after awhile,
no tears to moisten his grave but the dews of
Heaven.
But though dead, he still liveth ; he liveth
in the hearts of his friends, in tbe memory of
his services, in the respect of the States, inthe
aliectione, the devoted affections of that house
hold he cherished. He will live in the tomes
of Time, as they shall unfold their pages, rich
with virtues, to the eyes of the yet unborn. —
He lives, arid will continue to live, for count
less ages, in the advance of tuat science to
which, by his intellect, he so much contributed,
in the dlsenthralment of man from the restric
tions of government, in the freedom of inter
course of nations, and kindreds and tongues,
which makes our common mother earth throw
from her lap her bounteous plenty unto all her
children. And it may be, exam
ple set to other nations; a
union of thought and sentiment, ant Shat the
strong ties of intesost, and the silken"rds of
love, may uujie,-tlie hearts of all, until, from
the cotnpietHs and tbe isles of the sea, there
wilLoofpe up the gratulations of voices, that
jgjwtll mingle with the choral song of the an
rgelic. host —“Peace on earth; goodwill to all
nnankind.”
1 move, sir, the adoption of the following
resolutions:
Resolved, That the House has heard with deep
sensibility the announcement of the death of the Hon.
John C. Calhoun, a Senator in Congress from the
Stare of South Carolina.
Resolved, As a testimony of respectfor the memo
ry of the deceased, that the members and officers ol
this House will wear the usual badge of mourning for
thirty days.
Resolved, That the proceedings of this House in
relation to the death of the Hon. John C. Calhoun
be communicated to the family of the deceased by tbe
Clerk.
Resolved, That the House will attend the funeral
of the deceased in a body, and as a further mark of
respect for bis memory that it do now adjourn.
Mr. Winthrop rose tosecond the resolution
offered by Mr. Holmes, and proceeded as fol
lows.
I a -WA -A. X ———A— ■a MA M CX —A aal, A““ •1• A ♦ *l A •—A■ AA '
I am not unaware, Mr. speaker, that the voice
of New England has already been heard to day
in its most authentic and moat impressive tones
in the other wing of thia Capitol. But it has
heen suggested to me, and the suggestion has
met with the promptest assent from my owu
heart, that here, also, that voice should not
be altogether mute on this occasion.
The distinguished person whose death has
been announced to us in the resolutions of the
Senate belonged not indeed to ua. It is not
ours to pronounce his eulogy. It is not ours
certainly, to appropriate his fame. But it is
ours to bear witness to his character, to do jus
tice to his virtues, to unite in paying honor to
his memory, and to offer our heartfelt sympa
thies—as I now do—to those who have been
called to sustain so great a bereavement.
We have been told, sir, by more than one
adventurous navigator, that it was worth all
the privations and perils of a protracted voyage
C •« hto**viaw - ,
or the bouUiern Cross—that great conmetiatiou
of the southern hemisphere. We can imagine
thenr, aifS'lh u i v
have always enjoyed the light of that magnlll
cent luminary, and who have taken their night
ly direction from its refulgent rays, if it were
suddenly blotted out from the sky.
Such, sir, and so deep. I can conceive to be
the emotions at this honr, of not a few of the
honored friends and associates whom I see
around me.
Indeed, no one who has been ever so dis
tant an observer of the course of public affairs
for a quarter of a century past, can fail to real
ize dial a star of the first magnitude has been
struck from our political firmament. Let us
hope, sir, that it has only been transferred to a
higher and purer sphere, where it may shine
on with undimmed brilliancy forever !
Mr. Speaker, it is for others to enter into
the details of Mr. Calhoun’s life and services,
it is for others to illustrate and to vindicate his
peculiar opinions and principles. It is for me
io speak oi him only as he was known to the
country at large, and to all, without distinction
of party, who have represented the country, of
late years, in either branch of the National
Councils.
And speaking of him thus, sir, 1 cannot hesi
tate to say, that, among what may be called the
second generation of American statesmen since
the adoption of the Federal Constitutiou, there
has heen no man of a more marked character,
of more pronounced qualities, or of a wider and
more deserved distinction.
The mere length and variety of his public
service, in almost every branch of the National
Government, running thronghacontinuous pe
riod of almost forty years—as a member of
this House, as Secretary of War, as Vice Pres
identof the United States, as Secretary of State
and as a Senator from his own adored and
adoring South Carolina—would alone have se
cured him a conspicuous and permanent place
upon our public records.
But he has left better titles to remembrance
than any which mere office can bestow.
There was an unsullied purity in his private
life; there was an indexible integrity in his
public conduct; there was an indescribable fas
cination in his familiar conversation; there
was a quickness of perception, a vigor of de
duction, a directness and a devotedtiess of
purpose in all that he said, or wrote or did ;
there was a Roman dignity in his whole Sena
torial deportment ; which together, made up a
character which cannot fail to be contemplated
- and admired to the latest posterity.
> I have said, sir, that New England can ap-
I propriate no part of his fame. But we may be
- permitted to remember that it was in our
5 schools of learning and of law that he was train
? ed up for the great contests which awaited him
f in the forurn of the Senate chamber. Nor can
we forget how long and how intimately he
; was associated in the Executive or deliberative
branches of the Government with more than
f one of our own most cherished statesman.
* The loss of such a man, sir, creates a sensi
' be gap in the public councils. To the State
i which he represented, and the section of cou n-
* try with which he was so peculiarly identified
’ i.o stranger tongue may venture to attempt
’ words of adequate consolation. But let us
’ hope that the event may not ba without a
' wholesome and healing influence upon the
’ troubles of the times. Let us heed the voice
' which comes to.us all, both as individuals and
1 a-* public officers, in so solemn and signal a
' providence of God. Let us remember that,
5 * hatever happens to the Republic, we must
' die ! Let us reflect how vain are the personal
strifes and partisan contests in which we daily
’ engage, in view of the great account which we
nay so soon be called on to render ! As Cice-
- ro exclaimed, in considering the death of Cras
b sus : “O fallacem hominum spem, fragile m
i que fortunam, et inanes nostras conleiitio*
i nes!”
s Finally, sir, let us find fresh bonds of broth
s erhood and of Union in the cherished mern ;
- ories of those who have gone before us ; and
- let us resolve that, so far as in us lies, the day
shall never come, when New England men
may not speak, of toe great names of the
South, whether among the dead or among
tire living, as of Americans and fellow coun
trymen I
Mr. Venable rose and aaid : Mr. Speaker
in responding to the announcement just made
by the gentleman from South Carolina, (Mr.
Holmes,) 1 perform a sad and melancholy of
lice. Did I cor,suit my feelings alone, I would
be silent, lit the other end of this building we
have just heard the touching eloquence of two
venerable and distinguished Senators, his con
temporaries and compatriots. Tneir name be
long lotheir country as well as his; and I
thought, while each was speaking, of the val
valiant warrior, clothed in armor, who, when
passing the grave of one with whom he had
broken lances aud crossed weapons, dropped a
tear upon his dust, and gave testimony »o hts
skill, his valor, and his honor. He whose spir
it has fled needs no effort of mine to p.ace hts
name on the bright page oflustory, nor would
any euiogv whicn I might pronounce swell the
vast Ude of praises which will flow perennially
ireui a nation’s gratitude. Tne great Arnen
can statesman who lias fallen by the stroke ol
death has feit the impress of his mind upon the
ueueralious among whom he lived rias giv
en to posterity the mines of his
uieughte to reward their labor with intellectual