f\l\3a-ny ttpon tlieDeatli of 
 
 180^. 
 
Qass t ^ ^ g. 
 
 Book_±±LLjly 
 
h 
 
 ^n 
 
 DISCOURSE, 
 
 DELIVERED IN THE 
 
 NORTH DUTCH CHURCH, 
 
 IN THE CITY OF ALBANY, 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE EVER TO BE LAMENTED 
 
 DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 Gen, Alexander Hamilton, 
 
 JULY 29, 1804. 
 
 BY ELIPHALET NOTT, A. M. 
 
 PASTOR OF THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH IN SAID CITY, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 
 
 THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 ALBANY: 
 PRINTED BY WEBSTERS AND SKINNER, 
 
 At their Bookstore, corner of State and Pearl-Streets. 
 
 - 1>W 
 
 1806. 
 

 .y\^H'^3 
 
H SAMUEL, I, 19. 
 HOW ARE THE MIGHTY FALLEN 
 
 X HE occasion explains the choice of my subject. 
 A subject on which I enter in obedience to your I'equest. You 
 have assembled to express your elegiac sorrows, and sad and so- 
 lemn weeds cover you. 
 
 Before such an audience, and on such an occasion, I enter on the 
 fluty assigned me with trembling. Do not mistake my meaning. 
 I tremble indeed. ..not, however, through fear of failing to merit 
 your applause ; for what have I to do Avith that when addressing the 
 dying, and treading on the ashes of the dead.. .Not through fear of 
 failing justly to portray the character of that great man who is at 
 once the theme of my encomium and regret. He needs not eulo- 
 gy. ..Hk work is finished, and death has removed him beyond' my 
 censure, and I would fondly hope, through grace, above my praise 
 
 You will ask then, why I tremble ? I tremble to think that I am 
 called to attack from tliis place a crime, the very idea of which al- 
 most freezes one with horror. ..a crime too wliich exists among the 
 polite and polished orders of society, and which is accompanied with 
 every aggravation ; committed with cool deliberation. ..and openly in 
 the face of day ! 
 
 But I have a duty to perform. And difficult and awful as that du- 
 ty is, I will not shrink from it. 
 
 Would to God my talents were adequate to the occasion. But 
 such as they are, I devoutly proffer them to unfold the nature and 
 counteract the influence of that barbarous custom, which like a rC' 
 sistlcss torrent, is undermining the foundations of civil government 
 ...breaking down the Ijarriers of social happiness, and sweeping away 
 virtue, talents and domestic felicity in its dessolating course. 
 
 Another and an illustrious chai'acter...a father. ..a general. ..n 
 statesman. ..the very man Avho stood on an eminence and without a 
 
[ 4 1 
 
 rival, among sages and heroes, the future hope of his country in dan- 
 ger.. .this man, yielding to the influence of a custom, which deserves 
 our eternal reprobation, has been brought to an untimely end 
 
 That the deaths of great and useful mea should be particularly no- 
 ticed, is equally the dictate of reason and revelation. The tears of 
 Israel flowed at the decease of good Josiah, and to his memory the 
 funeral women chanted the solemn dirge. 
 
 But neither examples nor arguments are necessary to v/ake the 
 sympathies of a greatfu! people on such occasions. The death of 
 public benefactors surcharges the heart and it spontaneously disbur- 
 dens itself by a flow of sorrows. 
 
 Such was the death of WASHINGTON, to embalm whose 
 memory, and perpetuate whose deathless fame, we lent our feeble, 
 but unnecessary services. Such also, and more peculiarly so, has 
 been the death of HAMILTON. 
 
 The tidings of the former moved us.. .mournfully moved us.. .and 
 %vc wept. The account of the latter chilled our hopes and curdled our 
 blood. The former died in a good old age ; the latter Avas cut ofl'in 
 the midst of his usefulness. The former was a customary provi- 
 dence ; we saw in it, if I may speak so, the finger of God, and rest- 
 ed in his sovereignty. The latter is not attended with this soothing 
 circumstance. 
 
 The fall of Hamilton owes its existence to mad deliberation, 
 and is marked by violence. The time, the place, the circumstances, 
 are arranged with barbarous coolness. The instrument of death is 
 levelled in day light, and with well directed skill pointed at his heart. 
 Alas I the event has proven that it was but too well directed. 
 Wounded, mortally wounded, on the very spot wliich still smoked 
 •with the blood of a favorite son, into the arms of his indiscreet and 
 cruel friend, the father fell. 
 
 Ah I had he fallen in the course of nature ; or jeopardizing his 
 life in defence of his country, had he fallen. ..but he did not. He fell 
 in single combat... Pardon my mistake. ..he did not fall in single com- 
 bat. His noble nature refused to endanger the life of his antagonist. 
 But he exposed his ov/n life. This v.as his crime ; and the sacred- 
 liess of my office forbids that I should hesitate explicitly to declare 
 it so. 
 
C 5 ] 
 
 lie cUd not hesit?te to declare it so himself : " My religious and 
 moral principles are strongly opposed to duelling." These are his 
 words before he ventured to the field of deatli. " I view the late 
 transaction v/ith sorrow and contrition." These are his words after 
 his return. 
 
 Humiliating end of illustrious greatness ! — Hovj are the mi,^^htg 
 fallen /...And shall the mighty thus fall ! Thus shall the noblest 
 lives be sacrificed and the richest blood be spilt ! Tell it not in Gath 
 ...fniblish it not in the streets of Askelon 1 
 
 Think not that the fatal issue of the late inhuman interview was 
 fortuitous. No ; the Hand that guides unseen the arrow of the 
 archer steadied and directed the arm of the duellist. And why did 
 it thus direct it ? As a solemn memento.. .SiS a loud and awful warn- 
 ing to a community where justice has slumbered...and slumbered 
 ...and slumbered... while the wife has been robbed of her partner, 
 the mother of her hopes. ..and life after Ufe rashly, and with an air 
 of triumph, sported away. 
 
 And was there, O my God ! no other sacrifice valuable enough 
 ...would the cry of no other blood reach tlie place of retribution 
 and awake justice, dozing over her awful seat ! 
 
 But though justice should still slumber and retribution be delay- 
 ed, we, who are the ministers of that God who will judge the judges 
 of the world, and whose malediction rests on liim who does his 
 work unfaithfully, we v.ill not keep silence. 
 
 I feel, my brethren, how incongruous my subject is with the 
 place I occupy. 
 
 It is humiliating ; it is distressing in a Christian country, and 
 in churches consecrated to the religion of Jesus, to be obliged to 
 attack a crime which outstrips barbarism, and would even sink the 
 character of a generous savage. But humiliating as it is it is ne- 
 cessary. 
 
 And must we then, even for a moment, forget the elevation en 
 which grace hath placed us, and the light which the gospel sheds 
 around us. ...Must we placs ourselves back in the midst of barba- 
 rism :...And instead of hearers softened to forgiveness by the love 
 of Jesus. ..filled with noble sentiments towards enemies, and wait- 
 ing for occasions, after the example of Divinity, to do them good 
 
[ 6 ] 
 
 ...instead of such hearers, must we suppose ourselves addressing 
 hearts petrified to goodness, incapable of mercy and broihng with 
 revenge !...Must we, O my God 1 instead of exhorting those who 
 hear us, to go on unto perfection, adding to virtue charity^ and to 
 charity brotherly kind?7ess... Must we, as if surrouned by an auditory- 
 just emerging out of darkness and still cruel and ferocious, reason 
 to convince them that revenge is unproper, and that to commit 
 deliberate murder is sin ! 
 
 Yes, we must do this. Repeated violations of the law, and the 
 sanctuary which the guilty find in public sentiment, prove that it 
 is necessary. 
 
 Withdraw therefore, for a moment, ye celestial spirits. ..ye holy 
 angels, accustomed to hover round these alters, and listen to those 
 strains of grace which heretofore have filled this House of God. 
 Other subjects occupy us. Withdraw, therefore, and leave us... 
 leave us to exhort Christian parents to restrain their vengeance, 
 and at least to keep back their hands from blood.. .to exhort youth, 
 nurtured in Christian families, not rashly to sport with life, nor 
 lightly to wring the widow's heart with sorrows and fill the or- 
 phan's eye with tears. 
 
 In accomplishing the object which is before mc, it will not be 
 expected, as it is not necessary, that I should give a history of Du- 
 elling. You need not be informed that it originated in a dark 
 and barbarous age. The polished Greek knew notliing of it. ..The 
 noble Roman was above it. Rome held in equal detestation the 
 man Avho exposed his life unnecessarily, and him, who refused to 
 expose it when the public good required it.* Her heroes were 
 superior to private contests. They indulged no vengeance except 
 against the enemies of their country. Their swords were not 
 drawn unless their honor was in danger. Wliich honor they de- 
 fended with their swords not only, but shielded with their bosoms 
 also, and were then prodigal of their blood. 
 
 But though Greece and Rome knew nothing of Duelling, it 
 exists. It exists among us : and it exists at once the most rash, 
 the most absurd and guilty practice that ever disgraced a Chris- 
 tian nation. 
 
 * Sallust de bell. Catil. h. 
 
[ 7 ] 
 
 Guilty — Because it is a violation of the law. What law ? The 
 law of God. THOU SHALL NOT KILL. This prohibition 
 was delivered by God himself, at Sinai, to the JeAvs. And, that it 
 is of universal and perpetual obligation, is manifest from the nature 
 of the crime prohibited not only, but also from the express declar- 
 ation of the Christian Lawgiver, who hath recognized its justice 
 and added to it the sanction of his own authority. 
 
 « Thou shalt nor kill." Who ? thou, creature. I, the Creator, 
 have given life, and thou shalt not take it away ! W^hen and under 
 what circumstances may I not take away life ? Never, and under 
 no circumstances, without my permission.. ..It is obvious, that no 
 discretion whatever is here given. The prohibition is addressed 
 to every individual where the law of God is promulgated, and the 
 terms made use of are express and unequivocal. So that life can- 
 not be taken under any pretext, without incurring guilt, unless by 
 a permission sanctioned by the same authority, which sanctions the 
 general law prohibiting it. 
 
 From this law it is granted there are exceptions. These excep- 
 tions, however, do not result from any sovereignty which one crea- 
 Uu'e has over the existence of another ; but from the positive ap- 
 pointment of that eternal Being, whose is the world and the fullness 
 thereof. In ivhose hand is the soul of every living creature, and the 
 breath of all mankind. 
 
 Even the authority which we claim over the lives of animals is 
 not founded on a natural right, but on a positive grant made by the 
 Deity himself to Noah and his sons.* This grant contains our 
 warrant for taking the lives of animals. But if we may not take 
 the lives of animals without permission from God, much less may 
 we the life of man, made in his image. 
 
 In what cases then has the Sovereign of life given this permis- 
 sion ? In rightful war. ..by the civil magistrate,! and int 
 KECESSARY self-defence|!... Beside these, I do not hesitate to 
 declare, that in the oracles of God there are no other. 
 
 He therefore who takes life in any other case, under whatever 
 pretext, takes it unwarrantably, is guilty of what the scriptures call 
 murder, and exposes himself to the malediction of that God who 
 is an avenger of blood, and who hath said, At the hand of every 
 * Gen. ix, 3. fS Sum. x, U. Jer. xlviii, 10. Luke Hi, 14. % Ex. xxi, 12. H Ex. xxii,2. 
 
[ « J 
 
 man's brother will I require the life of mafi. Whoso sheddeih ?nan's 
 blood by ?nan shall his blood be shed. 
 
 The duellist, contravenes the law of God not only, but the law 
 of man also. To the prohibition of the former have been added 
 the sanctions of the latter. Life taken in a duel by the common 
 law is murder. And where this is not the case, the giving- and re- 
 ceiving of a challenge only, is by statute, considered a high misde- 
 meanor, for which the principal and his second are declared infa- 
 mous, and disfranchised for twenty years. 
 
 Under Avhat accumulated circumstances of aggravation does the 
 duellist jeopardise his own life or take the life of his antagonist ? 
 I am sensible, that in a licentious age, and when laws are made 
 to yield to the vices of those who move in the higher circles., this 
 crime is called by I know not what mild and accommodating name. 
 Eut before these altars ; in this House of God, what is it ? It is 
 MuRDEE. \ .. .deliberate ...aggravated Murder ! 
 
 If tlie duellist deny this, let him produce his warrant from the 
 Author of life, for taking away from his creature the life which had 
 been sovereignly given. If he cannot do this, beyond all contrc- 
 vei'sy, he is a murderer ; for murder consists in taking away life 
 without the permission, and contrary to the prohibition of Him 
 who gave it. 
 
 Who is it then'that calls the duellist to the dangerous and deadly 
 combat ? Is it God ? No ; on the contrary he forbids it. Is it then 
 his country ? No; she also utters her prohibitory voice. Who is ij. 
 then ? A man of honor !...And who is this man of honor ? A man 
 perhaps whose honor is a name. Who prates \nth polluted lips 
 about the sacredness of character, when his ov/n is stained with 
 crimes, and needs but the smgle shade of murder, to complete the 
 dismal and sickly picture. 
 
 Evei'y transgression of the divine law implies great guilt, because 
 it is the transgression of infinite authority. But the crime of delib- 
 erately and lightly taking life has peculiar aggravations. It is a 
 crime committed against the written law not only, but also against 
 the dictates of reason, the remonstrances of conscience, and every 
 tender and amiable feeling of the heart. 
 
 To the unfortunate sufferer, it is the wanton violation of his most 
 sacred rights. It snatches him fi'om his friends and his comforts. 
 
C ^ ] 
 
 Terminates his state of trial, and precipitates him, uncalled for, and 
 perhaps unprepared, into the presence of his Judge. 
 
 You will say the duellist feels no malice. Be it so. Malice, in- 
 deed, is murder in principle. But there may be murder in reason, 
 and in fact, where there is no malice. Liome other unwarrantable 
 passion or principle may lead to the unlawful taking of human life. 
 
 The highwayman, who cuts the throat and rifles the pocket of 
 the passing traveller, feels no malice. And could he, with equal 
 ease and no greater danger of detection have secured his booty 
 without taking life, he would have stayed his arm over the palpi- 
 tating bosom of his victim, and let the plundered suppliant pass. 
 
 Would the imputation of cowardice have been inevitable to tlie 
 duellist if a challenge had not been given or accepted ? The im- 
 putation of want had been no less inevitable to the robber if the 
 money of the passing traveller had not been secured. 
 
 Would the duellist have been Avilling to have spared the life of 
 his antagonist if the point of honor could othenvise have been gain- 
 ed ? So would the robber if the point of property could have been. 
 Who can say that the motives of the one are not as urgent as the 
 motives of the other, and the means by which both obtain the ob- 
 ject of their wishes are the same. 
 
 Thus, according to the dictates of reason, as well as the law of 
 God, the highwayman and the duellist stand on ground equally 
 untenable ; and support their guilty havoc of the human race by 
 arguments equally fallacious. 
 
 Is duelling guilty ? So it is 
 
 Absurd It is absurd as a punishment, for it admits of no 
 
 proportion to crimes ; and besides, virtue and vice, guilt and mno- 
 cence ai-e equally exposed by it, to death or suffering. As a repa- 
 ration it is still more absurd, for it makes the injured liable to a 
 still greater injury. And as the vindication of personal character, 
 it is absurd even beyond madness. 
 
 One man of honor by some inadvertance, or perhaps with design, 
 injures the sensibility of another man of honor. In perfect char- 
 acter the injured gentleman resents it. He challenges the offen- 
 B 
 
C 10 3 
 
 cler. The offender accepts the challenge. The time is fixed. 
 The place is agreed upon. The circumstances, with an air of 
 solemn mania, are arranged ; and the principals, -with their seconds 
 and surgeons, retire under tlie covert of some solitary hill, or upon 
 the margin of some unfrequented beach, to settle this important 
 question of honor, by stabbing or shooting at each other. 
 
 One or the other, or both the parties, fall in this polite and gen- 
 tlemanlike contest. And what does this prove ? It proves that 
 one or the other, or both of them, as the case may be, are marks- 
 men. But it affords no evidence that either of them possesses 
 lionor, probity or talents. 
 
 It is true that he who falls in smgle combat, has the honor of be- 
 ing murdered : and he who takes his life, has the honor of a mur- 
 derer. Besides this, I know not of any glory which can redound 
 to the infatuated combatants, except it be what results from having 
 extended tlie circle of wretched widows, and added to the number 
 of hapless orphans. 
 
 And yet, terminate as it will, this frantic meeting, by a kind of 
 magic influence, entirely varnishes over a defective and base 
 character. Transforms vice to virtue, cowardice to courage, makes 
 falsehood truth, guilt innocence. ...In one word, it gives a new com- 
 plexion to the whole state of things. The Ethiopian changes his 
 skin, the leopard his spot ; and the debauched and treacherous.. .hav- 
 ing shot away the infamy of a sorry life, comes back from the field of 
 rESFECTiBiLiTY quite regenerated, and in the fullest sense, an 
 honorable man. He is now fit for the company of gentlemen. 
 He is admitted to that company, and should lie again by acts 
 of vileness, stain this purity of character so nobly acquired, and 
 should any one have the effrontery to say that he has done so, 
 again he stands ready to vhidicate his honor, and by another act of 
 homicide, to wipe away the stain which has been attached to it. 
 
 I might illustrate this article by example. I might produce in- 
 stances of this mysterious transformation of character, in the sub- 
 lime circles of moral refinement, furnished by the higher orders of 
 the fashionable world, which the mere firing of pistols has produced- 
 
[ 11 ] 
 
 But the occasion is too awful for irony. 
 
 Absurd as duelling is, were it absurd only, though \vc might 
 smile at the weakness and pity the folly of its abettors, there would 
 be no occasion for seriously attacking them.. .But to what has been 
 said, I add, that duelling is 
 
 Rash and presumptuous. 
 Life is the gift of Gob, and it was never bestowed to be sport- 
 ed with. To each, the Sovereign of the universe has marked 
 out a sphex'c to move in, and assigned a part to act. This part re- 
 spects ourselves not only but others also.. ..Each lives for the bene- 
 fit of all. 
 
 As in the system of nature the sun shines, not to display its own 
 brightness and answer its own convenience, but to warm, enlighten 
 and bless the woi'ld ; so in the system of animated beings, there is 
 a dependence, a correspondence and a relation, through an infinite- 
 ly extended, dying and reviving universe..../^ nvhlch tio man I'vveth 
 to himself^ and no man dieth to himself. Friend is related to friend. 
 The father to his family ; the individual to community. To every 
 member of which, having fixed his station, and assigned his duty, 
 the God of nature says, " Kecji this trust. ..defend this post.''* For 
 whom? For thy friends. ..thy family. ..thy country. And having 
 received such a charge, and for such a purpose, to desert it is rash- 
 ness and temerity. 
 
 Since the opinions of men arc as they arc, do you ask how you 
 shall avoid the imputation of cowardice, if you do not fight when 
 you are injured ? Ask your family how you will avoid the imputa- 
 tion of cruelty... ask your conscience how you will avoid the impu- 
 tation of guilt.. .ask your God how you will avert his malediction if 
 you do ? These are previous questions. Let these first be answer- 
 ed, and it will be easy to ixply to any which may follow them. 
 
 If you only accept a challenge when you believe in your con- 
 science that duelling is wrong, you act the coward. The dastardly 
 fear of the world governs you. Awed by its menaces, you conceal 
 your sentiments.. .appear in disguise, and act in guilty conformi- 
 ty to principles not your own.. .and that too in the most solemn mo- 
 ment, and when engaged in an act which exposes you to death. 
 
[ 12 ] 
 
 But if it be rashness to accept, how passing rashness is it, in a 
 sinner, to give a challenge ? Does it become him, whose life is 
 measured out by crimes, to be extreme to mark and punctilious to 
 resent whatever is amiss in others ? Must the duellist, who now 
 disdaining to forgive, so imperiously demands satisfaction to the ut- 
 termost—must this man himself, trembling at the recollection of 
 his offences, presently appear a suppliant before the mercy-seat of 
 God. Imagine this, and the case is not imaginary, and you can- 
 not conceive an instance of greater inconsistency, or of more pre- 
 sumptuous arrogance. Wherefore avenge not yourselves, but ra- 
 ther give place unto nvrath ; for veiigeance is 7nine, I ivill repay it, 
 saith the Lord. 
 
 Do you ask then, how you shall conduct towards your enemy, 
 •who hath lightly done you wi'ong ? If he be hungry, feed him ; if 
 naked, clothe him ; if thirsty, give him drink. Such, had you 
 preferred your question to Jesus Christ, is the answer he had 
 given you. By observing which, you will usually subdue, and al- 
 ways act more honorable than your enemy. 
 
 I feel, my brethren, as a minister of Jesus, and a teacher of his 
 gospel, a noble elevation on this article. 
 
 Compare the conduct of the Christian, acting in conformity to 
 the principles of religion, and of the duellist, acting in conformity 
 to the principles of honor, and let reason say which bears the marks 
 of the most exalted greatness. Compare them, and let reason say 
 which enjoys the most calm serenity of mind in time, and which 
 is likely to receive the plaudit of his Judge in immortality. 
 
 God, from his throne, beholds not a nobler object on his foot- 
 stool, than the man who loves his enemies, pities their errors, and 
 forgives the injuries they do him. This is indeed the very spiiit 
 of the heavens. It is the image of his benignity whose glory fills 
 them. 
 
 To return to the subject before us. ..guilty, absurd and rash 
 as duelling is, it has its advocates. And had it not had its advo- 
 cates. ..had not a strange preponderance of opinion been in favor of 
 it, never, O, lamented Hamilton ! hadst thou thus fallen, in the 
 midst of thy days, and before thou hadst reached the zenith of thy 
 glory. 
 
L 13 ] 
 
 O that I possessed the talent of eulog}-, and that I might be per- 
 tnitted to indulge the tenderness of friendship in paying the last 
 tribute to his memory. O that I were capable of placing this great 
 man before you. Could I do this, I should furnish you with an 
 argument, the most practical, the most plain, the most convincing, 
 except that dra\vn from the mandate of God, that was ever fur- 
 nished against duelling, that horrid practice, which has, in an aw- 
 ful moment, robbed the world of such exalted worth. 
 
 But I cannot do this, I can only hint at the variety and exuber- 
 ance of his excellence. 
 
 The MAN, on whom nature seems originally to have impress- 
 ed the stamp of greatness. Whose genius beamed from the re- 
 tirement of collegiate life, with a radiance which dazzled, and a 
 loveliness which charmed, the eye of sages. 
 
 The HERO, called from his sequestered retreat, whose first 
 appearance in the field, though a stripling, conciliated the esteem 
 of Washington, our good old father. Moving by whose side, 
 during all the perils of the revolution, our young Chieftain was a 
 contributer to the veteran's glory, the guardian of his person, and 
 the compartner of his toils. 
 
 The CONQUEROR, who sparing of human blood, when victo- 
 ry favored, stayed the uplifted arm, and nobly said to the vanquish- 
 ed enemy, " live !" 
 
 The STyVTESMAN, the correctness of whose principles and 
 the strengtli of whose mind, are inscribed on the records of con- 
 gress and on the annals of the council-chamber. Whose genius 
 impressed itself upon the constitution of his country ; and 
 whose memory, the government, illustrious fabric, resting on 
 tliis basis, will perpetuate while it lasts : and shaken by the vio- 
 lence of party, should it fall, which may Heaven avert, lus prophet- 
 ic declarations will be found inscribed on its ruins. 
 
 The COUNSELLOR, who was at once the pride of the bar 
 and the admiration of the court. W^hose apprehensions were 
 quick as lightning, and whose dcvelopement of truth was luminous 
 as its path. ..Whose arguments no change of circumstances could 
 embarrass. ..Whose knowledge appeared intuitive ; and who, by a 
 single glance, and with as much facility as the eye of the eagle 
 
t 14 ] 
 
 passes over the landscape, surveyed the whole field of controversy 
 ....saw in whatVay truth might be most successfully defended, and 
 how error must be approached. And who, without ever stoppmg, 
 ever hesitating, by a rapid and manly march, led the listening judge 
 and the fascinated juror, step by step, through a delightsome re- 
 gion, brightening as he advanced, till his argument rose to demon- 
 stration, and eloquence was rendered useless by conviction. 
 
 Whose talents were employed on the side of righteousness. 
 Whose voice, whether in the council-chamber or at the bar of jus- 
 tice, was virtue's consolation. At whose approach oppressed hu- 
 manity felt a secret rapture, and the heart of injured innocence lept 
 for joy. 
 
 Where Hamilton was, in whatever sphere he moved, the 
 friendless had a friend, the fatherless a father, and the poor man, 
 though unable to reward his kindness, found an advocate. It was, 
 when the rich oppressed the poor, when the powerful menaced 
 the defenceless, when truth was disregarded, or the eternal prin- 
 ciples of justice violated, it was on these occasions, that he exert- 
 ed all his strength. It was on these occasions, that he sometimes 
 soared so high and shone with a radiance so transcendent, I had 
 almost said, so " heavenly, as filled those around him with awe, and 
 gave to him the force and authority of a prophet." 
 
 The PATRIOT, whose integrity baffled the scrutiny of inquisi- 
 tion. Whose manly virtue never shaped itself to circumstances. 
 Who always great, always himself, stood, amidst the varying tides 
 of party, ^rm, like the rock, which, far from land, lifts its majestic 
 top above the waves, and remains unshaken by the storms which 
 agitate the ocean. 
 
 The FRIEND, who knew no guile. Whose bosom was trans- 
 parent and deep, in the bottom of whose heart was rooted every 
 tender and sympathetic virtue. Whose various worth opposing 
 parties acknowledged while alive, and on whose tomb they unite, 
 with equal sympathy and grief, to heap their honors. 
 
 I know he had his failings. I see on the picture of his life, a 
 picture rendered awful by greatness, and luminous by virtue, somQ 
 dark shades On these let the tear that pities hu- 
 man weakness fall : on these let the vail which coyers human frail- 
 
[ J5 ] 
 
 ty rest As a hero, as a statesman, as a patriot, he 
 
 lived nobly : and would to God, I could add, he nobly fell. 
 
 Unwilling to admit his error in this respect, I go back to the pe- 
 riod of discussion. I see him resisting the threatened intervicAV. 
 I imagine myself present in his chamber. Various reasons, for a 
 time, seem to hold his determination in arrest. Various and 
 moving objects pass before him, and speak a dissuasive language. 
 
 His country, Avhich may need his counsels to guide and his arm to 
 defend, utters her veto. The partner of his youth, already cover- 
 ed with weeds, and whose tears flow down into her bosom, inter- 
 cedes I His babes, stretching out their little hands and pointing ta 
 a weeping mother, with lisping eloquence, but eloquence which 
 reaches a parent's heart, cry out " Stay. ..stay. ..dear papa, and live 
 for us !" In the mean time the spectre of a fallen son, pale and 
 ghastly, approaches, opens his bleeding bosom, and as the harbin- 
 ger of death, points to the yaAvning tomb and forewarns a hesitating 
 fatlier of the issue ! 
 
 He pauses. Reviews these sad objects : and reasons on the 
 subject. I admire his magnanimity. I approve his reasoning, 
 and I wait, to hear him reject with indignation the murderous pro- 
 position, and to see him spurn from his presence the presumptu- 
 ous bearer of it. . . . 
 
 But I wait in vain. It was a moment in which liis great wisdom 
 forsook him. A moment in which Hamilton was not himself. 
 
 He yielded to the force of an imperious custom. And yielding, 
 he sacrificed a life in which all had an interest.. .and he is lost.. .lost 
 to his country... lost to his family. ..lost to us. 
 
 For this act, because he disclaimed it, and was peni- 
 tent, I forgive him.. But there are those whom I camiot forgive. 
 
 I mean not his antagonist. Over whose erring steps, if there 
 be tears in heaven, a pious mother looks do\vn and weeps. If he 
 be capable of feeling, he suffers already all that humanity can suf- 
 fer. Suffers, and wherever he may fly will suffer, with the poig- 
 nant recollection, of having taken the life of one who was too mag- 
 nanimous in return to attempt his own. Had he have kno-vvn this, 
 it must iuve paralyzed his arm while it pointed, at so incorruptible 
 a bosom, tlie instrument of death. Does he know this now, his 
 
[ 16 ] 
 
 heart, if it be not adamant, must soften.. .if it be not ice, it liiust 
 melt ^ 
 
 But on this article I forbear. Stained with blood as he is, if he be 
 penitent, I forgive him...and if he be not, before these altars, where 
 all of us appear as supplients, I wish not to excite your vengeance, 
 but rather, in behalf of an object, rendered wretched and pitiable by- 
 crime, to wake your prayers. 
 
 But I have said, and I repeat it, there are those whom I cannot 
 forgive. 
 
 I cannot forgive that minister at the altar, who has hitherto for- 
 borne to remonstrate on this subject. I cannot forgive that public 
 prosecutor, who entrusted with the duty of avenging his country's 
 wrongs, has seen those wrongs, and taken no measures to avenge 
 tliem. I cannot forgive that judge upon the bench, or that gover- 
 nor in the chair of state, who has lightly passed over such offences. 
 I cannot forgive the public, in whose opinion the duellist finds a 
 sanctuary. I cannot forgive you, my brethren, who till this late 
 hour have been silent, whilst successive murders were committed. 
 No ; I cannot forgive you, that you have not in common with the 
 freemen of this state, raised your voice to the poivers that be, and 
 loudly and explicitly demanded an execution of your laws. De- 
 manded this in a manner, which if it did not reach the ear of gov- 
 ernment, would at least have reached the heavens, and plead your 
 excuse before the God that fiUeth them. In whose presence as I 
 stand, I should not feel myself innocent of the blood which crieth 
 against us, had I been silent. But I have not been silent. Many 
 of you who hear me are my witnesses. ..the walls of yonder temple, 
 where I have heretofore addressed you, are my witnesses, how 
 freely I have animadverted on tliis subject, in the presence both of 
 those who have violated the laws, and of those whose indispensable 
 duty it is to see the laws executed on those who violate them. 
 
 I enjoy another opportunity ; and would to God, I might be per- 
 mitted to approach for once the late scene of death. Would to 
 God, I could there assemble on the one side, the disconsolate mo- 
 ther with her seven fatherless children... and on the other those who 
 administer the justice of my country. Could I do this, I would 
 point them to these sad objects. I would entreat them, by the. ag- 
 
oni^ of bereaved fondness, to listen to the widow's heartfelt gi*oana 
 ,...to mark the orphans' sighs and tears.. ..And having done this, I 
 would xuicover the breathless corpse of Hamilton...! would lift 
 from his gaping Avomid his bloody mantle. ..I would hold it up to 
 heaven before them, and I would ask, in the name of Gon I would 
 ask, whether at the sight of it they felt no compunction. 
 
 You will ask, perhaps, what can be done, to arrest the progress 
 of a practice which has yet so many advocates ? I answer, nothing 
 ....if it be the deliberate intention to do nothing. But if otherwise, 
 much is within our power. 
 
 Let then the governor &ee that the laws ai-e executed... Let the 
 council displace the man who offends against their majesty. Let 
 courts of justice frown from their bar, as unworthy to appear before 
 them, the murderer and his accomplices. Let the people declare 
 him unworthy of their confidence who engages in such sanguinary- 
 contests. Let this be done, and should life still be taken in single 
 combat, then the governor, the council, the court, the people, look- 
 ing up to the Avenger of sin, may say, " we are innocent.. .we are 
 innocent." 
 
 Do you ask how proof can be obtained i How can it be avoid- 
 ed ?...The parties return, hold up before our eyes the instruments 
 of death, publish to the world the circumstances of their interview, 
 and even, with an air of insulting triumph, boast, how coolly and 
 how deliberately they proceeded in violating one of the most sa- 
 cred laws of earth and heaven.... 
 
 Ah ! ye tragic shores of Hoboken, crimsoned with the richest 
 blood, I tremble at the crimes you record against us. ..the annual 
 register of murders which you keep and send up to God !... .Place 
 of inhuman cruelty ! beyond the limits of reason, of duty, and of 
 religion, where man assumes a more barbarous nature, and ceases 
 to be man... .What poignant, lingering sorrows do thy lawless 
 combats occasion to surviving relatives ! 
 
 Ye who have hearts of pity. ..ye who have experienced the anguish 
 of dissolving friendship. ..who have wept, and still weep over the 
 mouldering niins of departed kindred, ye can enter into tliis 
 reflection. 
 
 O thou disconsolate widow ! robbed, so cruelly robbed, and in so 
 C 
 
r 18 ] 
 
 short a time, both of a husband and a son, what must be the \>leni- 
 tude of thy sufferings ! Could we approach thee, gladly would we 
 drop the tear of sympathy, and pour into thy bleeding bosom the 
 balm of consolation. But how could we comfort her whom God 
 hath not comforted ! To his throne, let us lift up our voice and 
 weep. O God ! if thou art still the Avidow's husband, and the fa- 
 ther of the fatherless ; if in the fulness of thy goodness there be 
 yet mercies in store for miserable mortals, pity, O pity this afflict- 
 ed mother, and grant that her hapless orphans may find a friend, 
 a benefactor, a father in THEE i ' 
 
 On this article I have done : and may God add his blessing. 
 
 But I have still a claim upon your patience. I cannot here re- 
 press my feelings, and thus let pass the present opportunity. 
 
 How are the mighty fallen ! And regardless as we are of vulgar 
 deaths, shdl not the fall of the mighty affect us ! 
 
 A short time since, and he Avho is the occasion of our sorrows, 
 was the ornament of his country. He stood on an eminence ; and 
 glory covered him. From that eminence he has fallen, suddenly, 
 for ever, fallen. His intei-course with the living world is now 
 ended ; and those who would hereafter find him must seek him in 
 the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which just now 
 was the seat of friendship. There, dim and sightless, is tlie eye, 
 whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with intelligence ; and 
 there, closed for ever, are those lips, on whose persuasive accents 
 we have so often and so lately hung with transport. 
 
 From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there proceeds, 
 methinks, a light in which it is clearly seen that those gaudy ob- 
 jects which men pursue are only phantoms. In this light how 
 dimly shines the splendor of victory, how humble appears the ma- 
 jesty of grandeur. The bubble which seemed to have so much so- 
 lidity has burst : and we again se« that all below the sun is vanity. 
 
 True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced. The sad and 
 solemn procession has moved. The badge of mourning has alrea- 
 dy been decreed, and presently the sculptured marble will lift up 
 its front, proud to perpetuate the name of HAMILTON, and re- 
 hearse to tlie passing traveller his virtues. 
 
 Jvist Uibutca of respect I And to the living useful. But to him* 
 
[ 19 3 
 
 Kiouldering in his narrow and humble habitation, what are they ? 
 How vain ! how unavailing ! 
 
 Approach, and behold... Avhile I lift from his sepulchre its coa'- 
 ering. Ye admirers of his greatness, ye emulous of his talents 
 and his fame, approach, and behold him now. How pale 1 How 
 silent ! No martitU bands admire the adroitness of his movements. 
 No fascinated throng weep. ..and melt.. .and tremble at his elor 
 quence !.... Amazing change ! A. shrowd ! a coflin ! a narrow sub- 
 terraneous cabin ! This is all that nov/ remains of Hamilton ! 
 And is this all that remains of him ?.... During a Kfe so transitory, 
 what lasting monument then can our fondest hopes erect ? 
 
 My brethren ! we stand on the borders of an awful gulf, 
 •which is swallowing up all things human. And is there, amidst 
 this universal wreck, nothing stable, nothing abiding, nothing im,- 
 mortal on which poor, frail, dying man can fasten ? 
 
 Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose v/isdom you have been 
 accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. He will tell you, did 
 I say ? He has already told you, from his death bed, and his illu- 
 mined spLi-it still whispers from the heavens, with well known elo- 
 quence, the solemn admonition 
 
 " Mortals ! hastening to the tomb, and once the companions of 
 my pil^-image, take warning and avoid my errors.. ..CuUivate the 
 virtues I have recommended....Choose the Savbur I have chosen 
 ...Live disinterestedly. ..Live for immortality ; and, would you res- 
 cue any tiling from final dissolution, lay it up in God." 
 
 Thus speaks, methinks, our deceased benefactor, and tlms he 
 acted during his last sad hours. To tlie exclusion of every other 
 concern, religion now claims all his thoughts. 
 
 Jesus ! Jesus is now his only hope. The friends of Jesus are 
 his friends. The ministers of the altar his companions. While 
 these intercede he listens in awful silence, or m profound svibmis- 
 sion, whispers his assent. 
 
 Sensible, deeply sensible of his sins, he pleads no merit of his 
 own- He repairs to the mercy-seat, and there pours out his pen- 
 itential sorrows... there he solicits pardon. 
 
 Heaven, it should seem, heard and pitied the suppliant's cries. 
 Disburdened of his sorrows, and looking up to God, he exclaims, 
 " Grace, rich grace." « I h^ve," said he, clasping his dying 
 
[ 20 ] 
 
 hands, and with a faltering tongue, " I have a tender reli- 
 ance ON THE MERCY OF GoD IN Christ." In token of this reli- 
 ance, and as an expression of his faith, he receives the holy sacra- 
 ment. And having done this, his mind becomes tranquil and se- 
 rene. Thus he remains, thoughtful indeed, but unruffled to the 
 last, and meets death with an air of dignified composure, and with 
 an eye directed to the heavens. 
 
 This last act, more than any other, sheds glory on his character. 
 Every thing else death effaces. Religion alone abides with him 
 on his death bed. He dies a Christian. This is all which can be 
 enrolled of him among the archives of eternity. This is all that 
 can make his name great in heaven. 
 
 Let not the sneering infidel persuade you that this last act of 
 homage to the Saviour, resulted from an enfeebled state of mental 
 faculties, or from peilurbation occasioned by the near approach of 
 death. No ; his opinions concerning the Divine Mission of Jesus 
 Christ, and the validity of the holy scriptures had long been set- 
 tled, and settled after laborious investigation and extensive and 
 deep research. These opinions were not concealed. I knew them 
 myself. Some of you who hear me knew them. And had his life 
 been spared, it was his determination to have published them to 
 the world, together with the facts and reasons on which they were 
 founded. 
 
 At a time when skepticism, shallow and superficial indeed, but 
 depraved and malignant, is breathing forth its pestilential vapor, 
 and polluting, by its unhallowed touch, every thing divine and sa- 
 cred ; it is consoling to a devout mind to reflect, that the great, 
 and the wise, and the good of all ages. ..those superior geniuses, 
 whose splendid talents have elevated them almost above mortality, 
 and placed them next in order to angelic natures.. ..Yes, it is con-- 
 soling to a devout mind to reflect, that while dwarjis/i infidelity lifts 
 up its deformed head and mocks, these illustrious personages, 
 though living in different ages... inhabiting different countries... nur- 
 tured in different schools. ..destined to different pur suits... and dif- 
 fering on various subjects... should all, as if touched with an impulse 
 from heaven, agree to vindicate the sacredness of revelation... and 
 present, with one accord, their learning.. .their talents., .and theii- 
 \irtuej on the gospel altar, as an offering to EMMANUEL. 
 
[ 21 ] 
 
 This is not exaggeration. Who was it that, overleaping the nar- 
 row bounds which had hitherto been set to the human mind, rang- 
 ed abroad through the immensity of space, discovered and ilUis- 
 trated those laws by which the Deity unites, binds and governs 
 all things ? Who was it, soaring into the sublime of astronomic 
 science, numbered the stars of heaven, measured their spheres, 
 and called them by their names ? It was Newton. But Newtott 
 was a Christian. Newton, great as he was, received instruction 
 from the lips, and laid his honors at the feet, of Jesus. 
 
 Who was it, that developed the hidden combination, the compo- 
 nent parts of bodies ? Who was it, dissected the animal, examin- 
 ed the flower, penetrated the earth, and ranged the extent of or- 
 ganic nature ? It M-as Boyle. But Boyle was a Christian. 
 
 Who was it, that lifted the vail which had for ages covered the 
 intellectual world, analyzed the human mind, defined its powers, 
 and reduced its operations to certain and fixed laws ? It was Locke. 
 But Locke too was a Christian. 
 
 What more shall I say ? For time would fail nie, to speak of 
 Hale, learned in the law ; of Anisoi^, admired in the schools ; 
 of Milton, celebrated among the poets ; and of Washington, 
 immortal in the field and in the cabinet.... To this catalogue of pro- 
 fessing Christians, from among, if I may speak so, a higher order 
 of beings, may now be added the name of ALEXANDER HAM- 
 ILTON. A name which raises in tlie mind the idea of whatever 
 is great, whatever is splendid, whatever is illustrious in huinan 
 nature ; and which is now added to a catalogue which might be 
 lengthened. ..and lengthened. ..and lengthened with the names of il- 
 lustrious characters, whose lives have blessed society, and whose 
 woi'ks form a COLUMN high as heaven... a column of learning, of 
 wisdom and of greatness, which will stand to future ages, an eter- 
 nal monument of the transcendant talents of the advocates of 
 Christianity, when every fugitive leaf, from the pen of tlie cantling 
 infidel witlings of the day, shall be swept by the tide of time from 
 the annals of the world, and buried with the names of tiicir authoi-s 
 in oblivion. 
 
 To conclude. How are the mighty fallen I Fallen before tlie 
 desolating hand of death. Alas I the ruins of the tomb 
 
[ 22 ] 
 
 The ruins of the tomb are an emblem of the ruins of the world. 
 When not an individual, but an universe, already marred by sin 
 and hastening to dissolution, shall agonize and die 1 Directing your 
 thoughts from the one, fix them for a moment on the other. An- 
 ticipate the concluding scene, the final catastrophe of nature 
 
 When the sign of the Son of man shall be seen in heaven. When 
 the Son of man himself shall appear in the glory of his Father, and 
 send forth judgment unto victory. The fiery desolation envelopes 
 to^vns, palaces and fortresses. The heavens pass away ! The 
 earth melts ! and all those magnificent productions of art, which 
 ages heaped on ages, have reared up, are in one awful day reduc- 
 ed to ashes ! 
 
 Against the mins of that day, as well as the ruins of the tomb 
 which precede it, the gospel m the CROSS of its great High 
 Priest, offers you all a sanctuary. A sanctuary secure and abid- 
 ing. A sanctuary, which no lapse of time nor change of circum- 
 stances can destroy. No ; neither life nor death.. .No ; neither 
 principalities nor powei^s. 
 
 Every thing else is fugitive ; eveiy thing else is mutable ; eve- 
 ry thing else will fail you. Rut this, the citadel of the Christ- 
 ian's hopes, Avill never fail you. Its base is adamant. It is ce- 
 mented with the richest blood. The ransomed of the Lord crowd 
 its portals. Enbosomed in the dust which it incloses, the bodies 
 of the redeemed " rest in hope." On its lop dwells the Church of 
 the first born, who in delightful response with the angels of light, 
 chant redeeming love. Against this Citadel the tempest beats, 
 and around it the storm rages and spends its force in vain. Im- 
 mortal in its nature, and incapable of change, it stands, and stands 
 firm, amidst the ruins of a mouldering world, and endures for 
 ever. 
 
 Thither fly, ye prisoners of hope !....that when earth, air, ele- 
 ments, shall have passed away, secure of existence and felicity, 
 you may join with saints in glory, to perpetuate the song Avhich 
 lingered on the fidtering tongue of HAMILTON, " Gbace, rich 
 Grace." 
 
 God grant us this honor. Then shall the measure of our joy 
 be full, and to his name shall be the gk»ry in Christ AMEN. 
 
l£ W '10