In his youth he has been described as being tall and graceful, with chestnut brown hair, blue eyes and fair com plexion and as a complete master of all the accomplishments of the best society of the age. In old age his form was some what bowed, but his square shoulders, his cleanly shaven face and dignified address still remained. His portrait, given with this sketch, is from a painting by Charles Wilson Peale, the original of which hangs in Independence Hall in Phila delphia, Never did the proud old General seek pity or charity. On one occasion, he and William Findley, who was then in Congress, were talking, perhaps concerning measures for St. Clair's reimbursement. Findley was then a man of power and wealth while St. Clair was almost in penury Findley, with perhaps the kindest feelings, said, "General, I pity your case and heartly sympathize with you." Then the old war rior, though bent with the adversities of more than four score years, proudly drew himself up and with flashing eyes said, "I am sorry sir but I cannot appreciate your sympathy." At another time, toasted at a militia muster by a thoughtless ad mirer, as "the brave, but unfortunate St. Clair," he drew his sword in an instant and demanded that the offender retract his words. He would not be complimented and commiser ated in a single sentence; his achievements in the service of England and America in both war and peace, were deserving of all glory without a compromising word of pity or regret.
On August 3oth, 1818, while driving down the mountain on his way to Youngstown, he probably sustained a paralytic stroke, for he fell from his wagon and was found unconscious by the road side. Taken to his home he died the day follow ing without regaining consciousness. The citizens of Greens burg called a public meeting at once and adopted resolutions of condolence and requested that his family select their ceme tery as his final resting place. This was accordingly done.
Nineteen days after, his wife, the once accomplished Phoebe Bayard, of Boston, who had willingly accepted the hard life on the rude frontier with her husband, was laid to rest by his side. So they sleep in the old, tree-grown and now abandoned cemetery which, for nearly a century has borne his name.
In 1832 a plain monument of sandstone was erected over his grave by the Masonic fraternity and its inscription speaks most eloquently and truthfully of the neglect of the nation. "The earthly remains of Major-General Arthur St. Clair are deposited beneath this humble monument, which is erected to supply the place of a nobler one due from his country." In a wider sense, however, General St. Clair has banded for himself, by his life's work, monuments more enduring than marble. The progress of Western Pennsylvania, the center of commercial industry, a section which he practically founded, and over which he first spread the elevating influ ences of civil government, is his monument ; the freedom of the nation, to secure which he gave the best years of his life, is his monument; the achievement of the Middle West which he opened up to civilization and education under the Ordi nance of 1787, five great states, now teeming with nearly twenty millions of happy and industrious people, is his monument.
Let him sleep, therefore, if need be, without "the nobler monument due him from his country," for as long as the maples wave above him their graceful branches and yearly strew his grave with the golden leaves of autumn; as long as flowers bud and bloom at his feet and the morning songs of wild birds fill the air; as long as honor, charity, self-sacri fice and patriotism remain the sweetest of human virtues, so long will the name of Arthur St. Clair awaken alike the proudest and saddest memories of the American people.