Warren County OhArchives Obituaries.....Corwin, Thomas  January 3, 1866
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Quincy, Illinois: The Daily Whig and Republican, 3 Jan 1866
http://www.rootsweb.com/~ohwarren/Obits/corwin.htm#ThomasCorwin

Last Hours of the Late Thomas Corwin.

The Washington correspondent of the Cincinnati Gazette, describing the closing
scene of the life of the Ohio statesman, says that on the evening when he was
stricken down, Mr. Corwin was at a social party at Mr. Wetmore’s. He was in the
best of spirits, and looked better than his friends remembered seeing him for
months. But a few days before he had returned from his Ohio home, where he had
gone to attend the wedding of his youngest daughter. His faculties seemed all
attuned and stimulated by the pleasant incident; as well as by the warm and
affectionate greetings with which he was received. Making his way through the
crowd of men who had grown into prominence under his eye, he was seated at the
side of the room, and at once drawn into animated talk. His old and favorite law
student, Gen. Schenck, came to talk of the home wedding; Chief Justice Chase
hastened to greet him; Senator Ben. Wade installed himself by his side, and
begged him to tell a favorite story. I have not seen him for ten years past, so
much like the old Tom Corwin of my boyhood, said Gen. Durbin Ward, his law
student and subsequently his partner. “There’s but one Tom Corwin in the world,”
enthusiastically exclaimed another as he moved back a little out of the group
where he had been swallowing every syllable. Thus surrounded by the brilliant
and distinguished in the State, old rivals and antagonists meeting him with
admiring warmth, seeing all about him the men who had grown up under him, every
one attentive to his lowest tone and slightest gesture, Governor Corwin must
have regarded it as one of the sunniest episodes in his downward way of life. By
and by supper was announced. Ben Wade took his arm, helped him at the staircase,
and found a seat for him on a sofa. He would eat nothing – only taking a couple
of oysters and a glass of water. But his flow of genial anecdote and sparkling
wit, varied now and then by one of those touches of pathos and one of those
suggestive and far-reaching political reflections he knew so well how to apply
continued with unabated brilliancy. Some of the Ohio belles who grace the
capital were on the other side of the room; but even from them he drew away
listeners, till he and Wade who sat beside him on the sofa, were fairly hemmed
in by a circle that embrace half the people in the room. His tones, however,
grew unusually low; and men were bending down, trying to catch every syllable.
He had been talking of Brazil; and replying to a remark or our consul at Rio
Janeiro, who had just been speaking to him of Don Pedro, the Emperor, he said:
“yes, Don Pedro, I’m sure, is a fine man, what, in fact, we would call, sir,
(with the indescribable epitome of all possible jokes in the sudden play of his
features,) in our country a popular man. Why, sir, so highly do I rate his
popular qualities that if we had him in Warren county we’d elect him Sheriff –
no mean test of popularity, sir.”
Then he began to speak of Mexico, first in the same jocose vein, telling how,
when they began shooting and cutting throats all around and within sight of the
capital, he came to the conclusion that the country didn’t suit a gentleman of
steady habits, and so he came home. “A Frenchman came to me – a smart fellow
whom Maximillian sent. He would be so distressed if because the French flag came
the American flag should leave – confound his politeness. But, if I had to
govern Mexico under the Empire, I’d make that Frenchman Emperor.” From this he
diverged into more serious talk of Mexican affairs; speaking with all his old
fervor, and gesticulating freely. For a few sentences his tones gradually grew
lower, so that even Wade, sitting at his side, could not hear – then his dead
dropped on his breast – a common motion with him when he had finished a train of
thought. The strained attention of the circle was broken, and men began to
notice that the room was oppressively warm. Wade rose to get a breath of fresh
air, and there was a general movement. Suddenly Gov. Corwin was observed to
extend his hands as if groping in the dark, and to say, “Room, a little room; it
is very warm.” Some one took him by the arm and helped him to rise; and a
hurried whisper ran around, “Make room for Gov. Corwin – he is fainting with the
heat.” One and another aiding him he tottered to the door. Durbin Ward was now
trying to hold him up, but his wounded arm was too weak, and he called to
Garfield; another sprang down the staircase in front, and helped to support his
weight. The feet of the stricken old statesman dragged helplessly behind him. He
was carried in and laid down on a bed in an adjacent chamber. 

His right hand was lifted up and laid over his breast – it fell helplessly back
upon the bed. The case was plain – his whole right side was paralyzed. He had
not spoken since he asked in the supper room for fresh air; but as he noted the
shocked expression with which those about him saw the right hand fall he lifted
up his other, opened and shut the fingers, as if to say, “I know what has
happened; but this you see is all right.” Some threw up the windows, piled wet
towels on his forehead, and tore open his collar, others hurried out for
doctors; still others piled blankets on the lower part of his person. Observing
his wistful look, I bent over and asked him if the pillows were properly
adjusted, or if we could do anything more for him till the doctor came. The
response was in a whisper but quite audible, “No, it will do very well.” Beyond
a simple “Yes” or “No,” once or twice repeated in answer to questions within the
next hour, they were his last words. He lay, gasping sometimes as if in
suffocation; then again for a few moments breathing easily. Presently Col.
Bliss, an army surgeon, the first medical man who could be found, hurried in. He
asked scarcely a question, lifted the lifeless hand, felt the pulse of wrist and
temples, and we read his hopeless verdict in his face as he turned away to order
mustard plasters, and whatever other poor services medical skill could bring to
bear against the inevitable. A few moments later Dr. Lincoln entered; then soon
afterward Surgeon General Barnes. They agreed on what had been done, and on the
utter uselessness of all their well-meant efforts.

Source: 
Quincy, Illinois: The Daily Whig and Republican, 3 Jan 1866 pg. 1, col. 2 



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