In 1894 he declined a re-nomination to Congress in a letter in which he said, "I desire to return to my profession, and having found the only office I ever wished to hold, to be in a large measure a disappointing thankless task, I relinquish it without regret." "The Bench and Bar of Michigan," copyright 1897, presents Mr. Weadock's personal characteristics in this way: "Mr. Weadock was never popular in the ordinary sense. He stood unflinchingly by his opinions and while he made strong friends, he also made enemies. He expressed his views strongly but fairly. He loved his friends and fought his enemies. His deep convictions, dauntless courage and unyielding persistence are among the sources of his power." In 1896 he was chosen one of the Delegates from the State at large in Michigan to the National Democratic Convention. In 1895, he opened a law office in Detroit for the general practice of his profession. He has been a member of the American Bar Association since 1880 and was the Democratic nominee for Judge of the Supreme Court of Michigan in 1904. His favorite author is Shakespeare, his hero Napoleon and his ideal lawyer Daniel O'Connell. MEMORIAL On March 14, 1918, Honorable Champe Clark, then Speaker of the Lower House of Congress, wrote the Foreword of this work from the Speaker's Room of the House. He was a fervent admirer of Andrew Jackson. Now that he is dead after a great and patriotic service as Congressman from Missouri of more than twenty years, the author feels that he cannot more perfectly express his great admiration for the ex-speaker than by adopting and reproducing the grand tribute of United States Senator James A. Reid of Missouri at the funeral of Mr. Clark on March 5, 1921, in the House of Representatives in Washington, D. C. "SENATOR REED: A wonderful stream is the river of life. A slender thread emerging from the mysterious realm of birth, it laughs and dances through the wonderworld of childhood. Its broadening currents sweep the plains of youth between the flowerdecked banks of romance and of hope. A mighty torrent, it rushes over the rapids of manhood and breaks in foam upon the rocks of opposition and defeat, then glides away across the barren, sterile fields of age until it is engulfed and lost within the waters of the eternal sea. "The robes of royalty, the beggar's rags, the rich man's golden hoard, the pauper's copperpence, the jewel diadems of princes, and the thorny crowns of martyrs are swept by the same ceaseless tides. "The miracle of birth, the mystery of death remain the unsolved problems of all time. The shepherd philosopher who three thousand years ago upon the Syrian plains observed the procession of the planets and contemplated the decrees of fate was as wise perhaps as is the wisest of to-day. He only knew that standing here upon this bank of time his straining eyes could not glimpse even the shadowy outlines of the farther shore. He could only behold the white sails of receding fleets; ships that sail out, but never come again. He only knew that at the grave's dread mouth all men must cast aside the burden of their honors and their griefs; that man takes with him only that which he has freely given away; but that even death may not despoil him of the riches of service and self-sacrifice. "Measured by that standard, he who sleeps today bears with him to the tomb a legacy so rare that even envy is compelled to pay the tribute of admiration. "His long life was devoted to the public weal. Upon his country's altar he placed his wonderful natural talent, the zeal of his youth, the energy of middle life, the wisdom of old age. "With tireless brain he wrought to promote the general good, with sympathetic spirit he labored to lift the burdens of sorrow from the shoulders of the oppressed. His heart cried out for all who trod adversity's harsh road. He explored every avenue of learning and burned his candle late into the night, that he might gather for them the lore of other countries and of other times. "The fires of patriotic love for home and country consumed his very soul. He faced each task with the heroic courage of those who do not count the cost. His character rested upon a foundation laid deep in human love. "Champ Clark lives because his works live. He lives because he helped to defend and keep secure the Constitution that preserves our rights. He lives in the Declaration of Independence, whose principles he nurtured with a tender and fearless affection. He lives because he helped liberty to live. Men who have so achieved never die. In ever-widening circles the influences of Champ Clark will be felt, and deeper and yet deeper the tender love the people of his State have borne for him will sink into their hearts. "As time runs on and the historian surveys the picture of these troubled days, there will arise in it no figure more heroic than the rugged form that lies so still today. "He was the best beloved of Americans. "How cold are words. Let me speak of the man as my friend. For thirty years I have known him intimately. I watched his course through all the storms of life. How big and brave and rugged was this man. He met each danger like a brave soldier. He never flinched from any task. He stood square-fronted to the world. "They say that he is dead, but we who gaze upon his marble brow must realize the man we knew does not lie here to-day. The soul that made him what he was cannot have been destroyed. To his family I cannot speak, but of them let me say, in all the world I never knew so much of filial affection, of wifely tenderness, of fatherly love as was manifested in his home. They must find consolation in the memory of this glorious man. Soon he will sleep in the soil of his beloved State. As it enfolds him, the very clods that touch his coffined clay will be blessed with the love he bore for the old Commonwealth of Missouri.' "THE HERMITAGE "It stands with face uplifted to the light- And, day or night, the shadows everywhere- "Within a corner of the garden plot He sleeps beside his Dear, his darling Dear; "The heart of Andrew Jackson slumbers here.' That dauntless heart which still could burn and break, And battle proudly for a woman's sake. "The wood, the fields, the limestone-girdled spring, The Hermitage a thing we hold in trust, As true men guard their forbears' swords from rust. "Forbid it, God, that ever there should come, In length and breadth of this fair land of mine, Such dearth of patriots that a warrior's home Should come to seem less holy than a shrine; Deny him in her own brave breast a bed Whose pride guards not the greatness of her dead. -Will Allen Dromgoole in Nashville Banner, Feb. 27, 1921. |