Lexington Kentucky City Sketch
With an emphasis on Henry Clay

Source: The loyal West in the times of the rebellion, John Warner Barber, 1798-1885, F.A. Howe, Cincinnati, 1865, pages 80-83.

Lexington, the county seat of Fayette county, is a remarkably neat and beautiful city, situated on a branch of Elkhorn River, 25 miles S.E. from Frankfort, 85 from Cincinnati, 77 S.E. from Louisville, and 517 from Washington City. The streets of Lexington are laid out at right angles, well paved, and bordered with ornamental trees. Many of the private residences and several of the public edifices are fine specimens of architectural taste, while the surrounding country, rich and highly cultivated, is adorned with elegant mansions. The city contains a court house, a Masonic Hall, the State Lunatic Asylum, 12 churches, the Transylvania University, several academies and an orphan asylum. It is celebrated throughout the Union for its intelligent and polished society, and as an elegant place of residence. Population about 12,000.

Lexington was founded in 1776. About the first of April in this year, a block house was built here, and the settlement commenced under the influence of Col. Robert Patterson, joined by the Messrs. McConnels, Lindseys, and James Masterson. Maj. John Morrison removed his family soon after from Harrodsburg, and his wife was the first white woman in the infant settlement. It appears that a party of hunters in 1775, while encamped on the spot where Lexington is now built, heard of the first conflict between the British and Provincial forces, at Lexington, Mass. In commemoration of this event, they called the place of their encampment, Lexington.

Transylvania University, the oldest college in the state, was established in 1798, and has departments of law and medicine. The medical school has eight professors. Connected with the institution is a fine museum and a very valuable library, with chemical apparatus, etc. The state Lunatic Asylum located here is a noble institution. Lexington was incorporated by Virginia in 1782 and was for several years the seat of government of the state. The "Kentucky Gazette" was established here in 1787, by the brothers John and Fielding Bradford, and, excepting the Pittsburg Gazette, is the oldest paper west of the Alleghany Mountains.

Ashland, the home of Henry Clay, is about one and a half miles from Lexington. Mr. Clay lived at Ashland between forty and fifty years. His house was a modest, spacious, agreeable mansion, two stories high. Since the death of Mr. Clay, this building having become somewhat dilapidated and insecure, his son, James B. Clay, Esq., had it taken down and a more elegant edifice erected upon the same spot, and with but slight modification of the original plan. Mr. Clay has many interesting relics of his father, which are carefully preserved in the new building. The estate, consisting of about 600 acres, bore the name of Ashland before it came into the possession of Mr. Clay, probably on account of the ash timber, with which it abounds. By Mr. C.'s management, it became one of the most delightful retreats in the west; the whole tract, except about 200 acres of park, was under the highest state of cultivation. When its illustrious occupant was living, it was the abode of elegant hospitality, and thousands then annually thronged thither to pay their respects to the statesman, who had such a hold upon the affections of his countrymen that, when he was defeated for the presidency, and intensity of sorrow was everywhere exhibited that never was equalled by any similar occurrences in the history of the country. (Footnote: a friend tells us that he recollects attending, in a distant New England city, an impromptu political meeting which had gathered in a public hall at this time. Various speeches of condolence had been made by those, who, in their ardor, had regarded the success of their candidate as identified with the salvation of their country, when an aged man, with silvered hair, arose to offer comfort in the general sorrow. He had but three words; but, Christian-like, he started for those three straightaway, to the BIBLE. He raised his tall slender form to its full hight, with palms uplifted, and then bowing submissively, uttered in prayerful tones---"The Lord reigns!") A stranger in the place not long subsequent, thus describes his impressions of the town and visit to Ashland:

No where is there a more delightful rural tract in all our broad land, than that part of this state in the vicinity of Lexington--the celebrated "blue grass" region of Kentucky. For miles and miles, in every direction, it is bedecked with graceful curving lawns, wood embowered cottages, and tall open forests, where not a shrub rises to mar the velvety sward that every where carpets the earth in living green. Enter the dwellings, and you will find them the abodes of elegance and taste. Your reception will be frank and hospitable. The town, Lexington, is well worthy of the country. It has a highly cultivated population, institutions of literature, elegant mansions, partly concealed in groves of locusts, whose tiny fragile leaves gently dance in the sunlight to the softest zephyr, and is, moreover, the home of one whose very name holds a dear place in our memories.

In a minor street of this beautiful town is a plain two story brick edifice, over the doors of which is the sign, H. & J.B. CLAY. One morning, a few weeks since, I entered its plainly furnished office, and, in the absence of its occupants, helped myself to a chair and a newspaper, that industrious whig sheet, the New York Tribune. In a few minutes in walked a tall, elderly gentleman attired in black coat and white pantaloons. My eyes had never before rested upon him, but it needed not a second glance to know HENRY CLAY. I presented a letter of introduction, upon which, after some little conversation, he invited me out to tea at his seat, Ashland, some twenty minutes walk from the central part of the town. At the appointed hour, I was on my way thither, and from a gate on the roadside approached the mansion by a winding path of maybe thirty rods in length. It stands on a smooth, undulating lawn of the purest green, fringed by a variety of trees. The open door disclosed to my view two elderly ladies, seated in one of the three rooms into which a common entry led. One of them, Mrs. Clay, called to me to walk in, and directed me to the flower garden in the rear of the house, where stood Judge R., of Ohio, and her husband. The former, as I was introduced by Mr. Clay, received me with the stiffness of the north---the latter met me in the cordial, off hand manner of an old acquaintance. He then slowed us some rare plants, joked with his little grandchild, and we entered the house. Passing through the room where sat his lady and the wife of the judge, he pleasantly said---"these ladies have some conspiracy together, let us walk into the parlor." On the hearth was an elegant rug, with the words worked in it, "PROTECTION TO AMERICAN INDUSTRY;" around were busts and paintings. The furniture was old fashioned, but rich, and an air of comfort pervaded the apartment. Among the curiosities shown us by Mr. Clay, was the identical wine glass used by Washington through the Revolution.

The conversation of Mr. Clay is frequently anecdotal, and his knowledge of all parts of our country, their condition, prospects and people, renders it easy for him to adapt himself in familiar topics to the great variety of characters that assemble at his residence. His manner is one of entire ease. Taking out a golden snuff box, he drew in a pinch of its exhilarating powder with an air of solid satisfaction; then spreading his handkerchief in his lap, he leaned forward his whole body, with his forearms folded and resting on his knees, and talked with us in the most genial, social way, like a fine, fatherly, old country gentleman--as, indeed, he is.

Now that I have seen Henry Clay, I do not wonder at the hold he has upon the affections of our people. Benevolence is the strongest expression in his countenance, and the humblest individual can not but feel, in the presence, as much at ease as if by his own fireside. His manner is irresistible; such as would enable him, if need there was, to say disagreeable things in a way that would occasion you to thank him for it. Literally, his is the power to give "hard facts with soft words."

When Henry Clay walks the streets of Lexington, the citizens gaze upon him with pride, and greet him with pleasure. A kind word and a smile he has for every body, no matter what their age, sex, or condition; and little children run up to take him by the hand, with a "how do you do, Mr. Clay?" My landlord, an Irishman by birth, said to me, "I have known Mr. Clay for many years, and am opposed to him in politics, but I can not help liking the man."

The cornerstone of the Monument erected to Henry Clay, in the Lexington Cemetery, was laid July 4, 1857, with imposing ceremonies, and the structure completed in 1858. It is constructed of magnesian limestone, obtained from Boone's Creek, about 14 miles distant. The remains of Henry Clay, his mother, and some other relatives, are to be deposited in the vaulted chamber in the base of the monument. At the top of the column, the flutings are 13 spiked spears, representing the original states of the Union. The statue of Clay, surmounting the whole, is 11 feet in hight. The hight of the monument from the ground to the top of the statue is 119 feet. The following inscription appears on one of the blocks of stone:

"I would rather be right, than be President."
National Guard, St. Louis, July 4^th, 1857.

Transcribed February 2001, pb