“Ashland” 
in a land too, where such a high standard exists in 
these matters. 
Near the south wing of the house is the kitchen 
garden, where the daffodils and snowdrops, which 
tentatively thrust out their early blossoms to greet 
the first warm day of spring, are those planted by 
Mrs. Clay’s own hands. 
Now, as nearly a century ago, “Ashland” receives 
many distinguished visitors who are welcomed with 
a simplicity and elegance for which it is as con¬ 
spicuous now, as it was then. Lafayette, with whom 
Mr. Clay main¬ 
tained an un¬ 
broken corre¬ 
spondence for 
many years, was 
once a guest 
there. Daniel 
Webster, Cap¬ 
tain Ma rryat, 
Harriet Martin- 
eau, His Excel¬ 
lency Baron de 
Marechal, at one 
time Austrian 
Minister at 
Washington, and 
many others 
were numbered 
among its hon¬ 
ored guests. 
One fancies, 
even though it 
be only a fancy 
perhaps, that 
there still lingers 
in these historic 
environs an in¬ 
fluence of the 
extraordina ry 
magnetism of its 
founder. The 
personality of the 
man who built 
and made “Ash¬ 
land” famous is 
of no little interest. That the genius of success is still 
the genius of labor, is an observation that is always 
apparent in reading the lives of great men. 
Born in 1777 in a place in Hanover County, Vir¬ 
ginia, called the “Slashes”—one of seven children— 
Henry Clay’s early life was not one of luxury. His 
widowed mother was a hard working woman whose 
high courage and energy colored his whole life. 
Carl Schurz writes of Mr. Clay: “Few public 
characters in American history have been the subject 
of more heated controversy. There was no measure 
of detraction and obloquy to which during his 
lifetime his opponents would not resort, and there 
seemed to be no limit to the admiration and attach¬ 
ment of his friends. The animosities against him 
have naturally long ago disappeared, but even now 
we may hear old men, who knew him in the days of 
his strength, speak of him with an enthusiasm and 
affection so warm and fresh as to convince us that 
the recollection of having followed his leadership is 
among the dearest treasures of their memory. The 
remarkable fascination he exercised seemed to have 
reached even 
beyond his living 
existence.” 
In 1828, when 
Mr. Clay was 
defeated for the 
Presidency, Hor- 
a c e Greeley 
wrote of him: 
“Men shed tears 
at his defeat and 
women went to 
bed sick from 
pure sympathy 
with his disap¬ 
pointment.” 
Mr. Clay then 
retired to private 
life, and of his 
journey from 
Washington to 
“Ashland” he 
wrote: “My 
progress has 
been marked by 
every token of 
attachment and 
heartfelt dem¬ 
onstrations. I 
never experi¬ 
enced more tes¬ 
timonies of re- 
spect and con¬ 
fidence, nor 
more enthusiasm 
—dinners, suppers, balls, etc. I have had literally 
a free passage—taverns, stages, toll gates have been 
literally thrown open to me.” 
It h as been said that in the last thirty years of his 
life Henry Clay could not travel, but only make 
progresses. 
When he left his home the public seized him and 
bore him along over the land, the committee of one 
State passing him along to another, and the cheers of 
one town dying away as those of the next caught 
his ear. 
HENRY CLAY’S BEDSTEAD 
21 7 
