The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1870-05-26
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less repnte, being sin his own country
the name Of Clay has ever been: q sacred
one in Kentucky and to name him has
been to quote lovingly, Wherever free.
dom found a votary, that votary met in
him a champion. When Greece, the
classic land Of Greece, the fountain of
refinement, the birthplace of eloquence
and liberty and of poetry; when Greece
awoke fromthe long slumber of ages and
beat back the faded crescent to its native
East; when Macedon recalled to mind the
fests OF her conquering boy, and the
Spartan struck in for the land that bred
him, then. the voice of Clay rolled over
the waters of the blue Atlantic as greet
ing from the New World to the Old.
But hushed is that voice whose every
tone was music" and so on till the de-
claimer wearied. Such being the esteem
in which the sage Of Ashland was held in
the hearts OF his countrymen the people
OF his Commonwealth have been slow to
speak to strangers of the skeleton in his
household, though in tho homes of the
State the sad story has been n household
word.
Yesterday morning, our special tele-
grams announced the end of a weary life
in stating that Theodore, eldest son of
Henry CLAY, had died in the Lexington
Lunatic Asylum, after long confine-
ment. The record of his blasted life is
briefly thus:
At thirty years of age, Theodore Clay
was promising lawyer. He was the
image and the hope of the statesman
whose fame was on every tongue. It is
true that there were whispers Of wild liy-
ing and of Indifferent morals, that some.
what tinged the fair repute and even
darkened the future prospects of this
scion of noble house. Still it was
hoped that these we're but the results of
youth, and would be cast aside when
circumstances called upon the matured
man to assert himself and mako his
talent felt in the community.
lt-was ut this turning point in his life
that Theodore Clay began to pursue,
with an unwearied perseverance that
caused his friends great unasiness, a
young lady of Lexington, whom he had
long loved hopelessly. The object of his
attachment. who is at the present mo-
ment one of the brightest ornaments of
Kentucky society, repulsed, firmly but
kindly, every attention offered by the
infatuated young man, after his meaning
had become manifest. It was of no use;
he would not be refused, and followed
his fair fate in the streets by day and
wandered in the neighborhood Of her
home by night in an annoying manner,
until at last it became evident that he
"was not all thereto use the soft
phrase by which kindly peasantry ex-
presses insanity.
Subsequent violent demonstrations
tended to confirm the impression, it
being even related that he went to the
house of Mr.. and demanded his
daughter at the pistols point, until ut
last the wretched truth could no longer
be ignored and confinement in the
asylum became stern necessity. This
was accordingly done, lin 1882, We be-
lleve,) his father providing for his sup
port at that time, and leaving $40, 900 in
his will, the income from which was
secured to Theodore for life. That life,
after thirty-eight years Of imprisonment
IN what in the earlier days of his con-
tinement he was wont to call 'sa good
boarding house, but having some of the
biggest fools he ever saw as boarders,"
has just closed. For nearly thirty years
he was one of the most noted of the in
mates, not only his proud descent, but
bis graceful manners and flow of con-
versation rendering him an object of
interest to all visitors. He labored under
the hallucination that he was George
the traditional attitudes of the Father of
his Country. At the occasional balls
given to the inmates. (averaging some
500 in number,) he was always ex-
quisitely dressed in the style of his day,
and was the beau par excellence.
During ell these long years, despite
his general gentleness aud cheerfulness
of manner, he was restless and discon-
tented, and required close watching, it
never, in fact. having been considered
prudent to allow him to go out into the
grounds without attendants. About the
year 1860 his condition began to grow
worse, and he soon after became demen-
ted, continuing in hopeless idiocy until
few days since, when death, greater
healer than time, placed him again upon
on equality with the peers of his early
manhood who had gone before him to
the God that created him and did with
him according to His inscrutable will.
And so ends as sad n story as the trath
OF history ever commanded to be writ
ten.
Two sons of Henry Clay yet survive
hint. b. Clay, ex-Minister to Hon.
duras, now residing on his place, "Mans-
fnI