u SERMON ON THE PREMATURE AND LAMENTED DEATH OP (general %\viiwxm J^amiiton. BY JOHN MCDONALD, A. M. PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. ALBANY: PRINTED BY JOHN BARBER, FAUSTs STATUE, STATE-STREET. 1804. L-„ oO'c i> Q ::'^. ■n'- 4^3 A SERMON. II. SAMUEL, III. 33, 34. ' And the king lamented over Jbner, and said, died JBner as afoot dieth? . Thy hands were not bound, nor thy feet in fetters : as a manfalU tth before v:icked men, so fullest thou. And all the iieojile wept again over him. J- HESE words express the grief and regret of a prince and a nation, overwhelmed with indigna- tion and sorrow, on the unmerited and untimely death of a brave soldier and an able statesman. Abner held the first place both in the camp and pouncil of Saul the first king of Israel,^ and dis- charged his duty v/ith fidelity and affection. Af;- ter the death of that ill-fated prince, on the rent of his kingdom, Abner still adhered to the interests of his family,, and by his counsel and courage sup- ported for some time the throne of Mephihoshcth^ his feeble and irresolute successor. But weak rulers can neither estimate nor long secure the respect and service of superior merit. 7 '3 From presuming indiscretion in the oificer, and from unseasonable and ill conducted reproof in the king, an irreparable breach was made 'in their mutual confidence and friendship. The breach was producedby human weakness and wickedness, but Providence overruled! th^ whole for the ac- complishment of his decree iii.the full establish}, jnent of David in the throne of the house of Jacob. 1*1 It is probable, that his master's incapacity to rule a free and flourishing people, excited that contempt in Abner which produced his offence, and that a conviction of David's being eminently qualified for government, urged him, under his wounded pride, to make an offer of his services and his influence to that generous and discerning competitor. A favorable opportunity for disclosing his views to David, soon occurred, by whom he was receiv- ed with a candor and cordiality which great minds never fail to express for real merit, even in their most formidable adversaries. At that time Joab, a relation of David, en- joyed the highest ofiice in his government. He was a man of considerable talents and zeal ; but suspicious, imperious and vindictive. No sooner had the report of xVbner's interview with David reached his ears, than his jealousy and fears filled him with fury. To extinguish his fear in the blood of a rival whom he dreaded, he united mean artifice with daring violence. Soliciting an inter- view, under the sacred professions of friendship, while the accents of affection sounded on his tongue, he, with premeditated aim, plunged the fatal instrument into the bowels of the unsuspect- ing Abner. The news of this atrocious and regal insulting crime, was circulated and received with universal sensations of horror. The two factions into which the posterity of Israel had been unhappily divid- ed, forgetting their animosities, instinctively uni- ted in expressing their regret for the death of a worthy man, and their abhorrence of the base and deliberate assassin. C « ] David, on all occasions remarkable for his sen- sibility, appeared mortified at the insult and in- consolable for the loss. His circumstances ren- dered it dangerous for him to resent the oflence by the punishment of the oifender. Such a measure might have endangered his crown, and the lives of thousands ; but under the impulse of the spirit of prophecy he denounced that divine vengeance which in due time overtook this bloody man. All that he could now do for the illustrious dead he hastened to perform. He ordered an honorable burial, and invited all Israel, with Joab also, to join with him in the funeral lamentation. The king, eminently fitted by his poetic gifts for the delicate office, undertook to give expression to his own and the nation's grief on that occasion. The passage which we have now read, has preserved an admirable specimen of the oration, marked with the pathos and spirit peculiar to oriental elegy. The selection of this passage, we trust, will ap- pear both applicable and appropriate to our medi- tation this morning, who, in imitation of the peo- ple of the Lord, have been requested by our fel- low-citizens to express in a religious manner, our esteem for the merits, our sorrow for the loss, and our detestation of the manner of the death of a man, in the meridian of life and usefulness, whose hervices have been greater to the American nation than ever Abner's were to Israel, and to whom, for splendor of talents and benevolence of heart, his country has never found a superior. Adhering then to the spirit of the passage, and observing the form of the sermon, let us — 1. Consider m what state the fool diethj that we may evince that the man whose death we de- plore died not as he dieth. [ 6 ] 2d. Attencl" to some of the many reflectio. which this mournful and frowning dispensation excites. *' Died Abner as a fool dieth !" exclaimed the royal mourner in the text, and all the people unit- ed in the exclamation. By this animated form of expression, instead of indulging suspicion or doubt, he intended, in the spirit and genius of the Hebrew language, to deny with abhorrence the question he asks. Examples of the same kind abound both in the Old and New Testament. Jo- seph, on a memorable occasion, to discover his horror and detestation of the sin to which he was solicited, cries, " How shall I do this great wick- edness and sin against God !" In the New Tes- tament, when the Apostle Paul, with his usual warmth on subjects dear to his heart, vindicates the doctrine of grace from encouraging licentious- ness, he asks, with indignation at the very thought, ** Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound ? Perish the thought !" Fool^ in the writings of David and Solomon, is employed more frequently to express the charac- ter of the impious and the immoral man, than of him who is void of understanding in the affairs of life. It is the fool, says the former, that says in his heart, "There is no God." " Fools," says the other, *' make a mock at sin." The native fruits of foolishness like theirs are violent and un- timely deaths from the hands of society and the hand of heaven. To use the simile in the text, such folly tv^ists the cords by which the fool is bound, and forges fetters for his feet. The death of Abner in its violence resembleth the death of the wicked. But he fell not by his [ 7 ] own wickedness, but by the crime'of a restless and ambitious fool. On his devoted head the cen^ sure and the guilt rests and will for ever rest. — In the same manner, the death of Hamilton, though unhappily stained by excessive care to preserve his life from reproach and even from suspicion, leaves in the conviction of every man of discernment the charge of folly on his unre- lenting and too successful enemy. For let me ask you — Could he die as a fool dieth, who with the most brilliant talents, performed the most important services to his country, and who seemed to live for her good ? Could he die as a fool dieth, against whom neither his own citizens nor strangers — against whom neither friend nor relative have ever brought censure or charge of weakness or wick- edness ? Could he die as a fool dieth, who with miost engaging manners discharged every duty civil and domestic with scrupulous honour, with conscientious fidelity ? Could he die as a fool dieth, who, when in the most trying scenes, when either his honour or his life was demanded for what he viewed as his duty, uttered neither murmur nor complaint against his enemy, himself, or his God ? Could he die as a fool dieth, who immersed in business and care sought an acquaintance with God — who with the humility of a convinced sin- ner, clung to the cross, and met death with the firmness, the faith, the liope of the Christian? I listen — You are silent. But in every countenance, I read, *' His life, his death, was like that of the righteous:" we trust he is now with them. But ive observe — [ 8 ] 1. That the fool dieth v;ithout leaving memo- rials of his virtues and of his labours to cherish his remembrance in the heart of survivors. Every man is introduced into this world by his Creator, to improve his nature, to honour God, and to promote the happiness of mankind. For this purpose he is entrusted with mental, moral and corporal qualities, wisely adapted to his cir- cumstances in life. There is a certain period during which he is commanded to occupy them, that he may be able to render an account with joy in the Divine approbation. He who acts with diligence and fidelity dies as a wise and righteous man : he who abuses his talents, or neglects to im- prove them, is declared by God to die the death of the wicked, and that he shall have his lot with them. Few men have received from God talents more distinguished and diversified than the man whom we this day mourn : Few men, within the nar- row limits oiforty.eigbt years, have ever employ- ed their talents in pursuits of equal importance and magnitude, or completed them with such approba- tion and unsullied success. Formed by such endowments for war and for peace, for the' studies of retirement and the labours of political life, in public deliberation unawed and unassuming, in private and domestic scenes, easy, instructive and affable ; providence, without any previous arrangement of his own, introduced him on a theatre peculiarly fitted for calling them into action and giving them full display. In the early bloom of life, he repaired from his native Isle, to complete the rudiments of science in th? College of New- York. He had hardly seat- L 9 ] cd himself in this retreat when the cry of dreaded oppression and the trumpet of liberty, arrested his attention, awakened his sympathy, and roused to martial enterprize his generous soul. The ardour, the genius and modesty of the young soldier, soon attracted the discerning eye xii JVashington, who, proud of the acquisition, en- .' rolled him among his chosen worthies. From that / hour to the latest in his life he never failed to ex- ult in his choice, and the last request to the exe- cutive of his country was, to have Hamilton as- sociated with him in the honourable appointment in which he closed a life of ennobled patriotism and never dying fame. Alas ! once united with- out jealousy or distrust in the service of their country, they are now united in death, too soon we fear for our prosperity and security. — But their memories shall be embalmed with lasting admira- tion and respect ! His military career in the Revolution, terminat- ed in the last struggle of Britain on the surrender of the brave Cornwallis and the capture of his army. The page of American and even English History will ever preserve the memory of his gal- lant and successful exertions on that day, when entrusted with a perilous charge, the post of his own solicitation. Humanity will never cease to triumph in a courage as inflexibly resolute in sparing the conquered as in pressing the conquest. His authority, his influence, his sword, which ir- resistibly carried terror and death while opposi- tion lasted, were instantly raised in defence of the yielding— deaf to the wishes and arguments of ex- asperated advisers. Wives and mothers have long B C 10 ] implored blessings for the Hero, and continue, I Ooubt not, to weep for the cruel destiny of hira whose arm and heart preserved to them all that rendered life desirable. On this day, victims sa- ved, and u^itnesses of their salvation, live to pro- claim his disinterested interposition. With peace he returned to the pursuits and ha- bits of civil life ; but never abandoned his soli- citude for tlie prosperity of the people which he had contributed to emancipate. As a citizen of this state, his services in her Legislature were of the most important nature. To mention no other, the plan on which o^ir colleges, our acade- mics and the board of regents are established, owed, in a great measure, its origin and comple- tion to his patriotic and persevering exertions. Soon after the peace, he perceived with others of our enlightened patriots, that the bond of con- federation which was sufficient in the hour of common danger to unice the strength and restrain the encroachments of states and individuals^ could neither afford public security nor energy in seasons of tranquillity and peace, nor extend its influence with extending connexions. By his conversation, by his influence, and by his argu- ments, especially in the Congress of our nation, lie never ceased to mark the danger and to urge the necessity of an alteration in the American charter. The situation of public affairs made, the public listen to such admonitions. A con- vention was chosen to suggest and propose what amendments were necessary. Selected as a de- legate by this state, he by his genius aided in framing our present admired constitution, and by his moderation and concessions promoted its coii*- C 11 ] pletion. By his firmness and perseverance, when deserted by his colleagues, he kept his station till he subscribed the instrument alone in be- half of the citizens of New-York. That hand that fought to acquire, that signed to secure, lies now withering in the tomb t On the appearance of this unexpected charter, the admiration, the suspicion and the opposition of our nation were, in different persons, for vari- ous reasons, strongly excited. Every; tongue that could harrangue and every pen that could write, were employed in exaggerated encomium, or in relentless execration, Publhis^ alarmed for the fate of the fairest and most friendly of Ame- rican productions, stepped forth boldly in her de- fence. He marked her beauties, he corrected misrepresentation, and endeared the stranger to every judicious and discerning eye. Publius, in his Federalist, has bequeathed an inestimable trea^ sure to the political world, while he eminently- contributed to the adoption of the constitution, Hamilton claims the better part of what i'^wZ'- iius subscribed. On the adoption of the Federal Constitution ^ IVashington^ by the unanimous voice of his coun- try, was called to preside in the Government. — Hamilton was called by his admired Patron, from domestic leisure and a lucrative and respect- ful seat at the bar, to give System to the Board of Treasury, the most important and diflicult de- partment in the State, With generous patriotism he obeyed the call and undertook this Herculean labour. All was disorder. Under his creative and discriminating genius, form, beauty, motion ■&nd energy were impressed on subjects the most [ 12 ] abstruse, and on materials apparently incapable of activity and union. In the face of opposition and prejudice, amidst the clamours of ignorance and selfishness, with immense labour, and with appa- rent ease, he recalled and established public and private credit; he created a national revenue; he provided for the claims of the patriot and soldier; he infused principles of life into our commerce, our agriculture and our manufactures. Engaged in digesting those measures and form- ing those reports which have extorted admiration from the most reluctant, he in great measure de- nied himself the enjoyment of social pleasures, in which he delighted and gave delight ; he wasted the small property which he had by honourable indus- try acquired ; he impaired his health, so that snowy ornaments of age began to clothe his tem- ples, while the roses of youth had scarcely been forced from his cheek. Having finished monuments more precious and we trust more durable than marble, he with- drew to the pursuits of private life : — He with- drew amidst the regrets of all whose regrets are an honourable tribute ; amidst the cruel insinua- tions of those who fattened on his toils, as if by speculation he had privately amassed a princely fortune ! Betrayers of your own grovelling dispo- sitions ; strangers to the trembling delicacy of honour that inhabited his breast, examine his estate, attend to his family provision, read his will, and in blushing tears endeavor to blot out the injury offered to innocence ! When he retired from the Treasury he formed •and expressed the determination, never, unless in cases of extremity, to accept of any public em- [ 13 ] ployment. But in his zeal for the public good, he seemed rather to have resigned the emoluments than the cares of his country. It was in the faith- ful and vigorous expressions of patriotism, that he procured the secret, the settled and bitter hatred of some weak and capricious leaders, and the im- placable rage of a restless and ambitious man whose mask could never conceal from his pene- trating eye the forbidding visage which it slightly covered. The wound that he inflicted on danger- ous men, O America 1 was in thy defence. For you he was insulted and braved, for you he, (the only injury that he ever offered you,) for you he fell, he bled, he died ! Thus lived, thus died, the friend of us all. Let your own hearts say, whether this man died as a fool dieth ! But I observe — 2d. That the fool dieth unlamented, as a lawful victim to injured society, or to insulted heaven. Offence and censure, crime and punishment, are intimately connected, both by the decree of God and in the convictions of all mankind. The guil- ty soul, always under secret fear, flies when no man pursucth, and its flight generally terminates in ruin. Those who witness the calamities of the criminal, cannot refrain adopting the expression of the wretch on the cross — " This man is condemn- ed justly, and receives the reward of his deeds !" We have briefly glanced at some of the public services of the man whose loss wrings our souls with anguish ; let us now search for the crimes that merited such a cruel fate, let us listen to his ac- cusers. We examine the records of society — his name sullies not a line. We survey his character — but on this no mark of the baleful tooth of faction. [ 1* ] no stain from the tongue of slander, can we dis- cover. We listen to the cry of the oppressed, the injured, the disappointed ; among all the long list which they denounce, the name of this man cannot be heard. What then mean the distress which every countenance discovers ; the broken sighs, and even the rolling tears, which cannot be con- cealed — these — these all, are for the cruel injuries that he hath received. He has been long intimately known in all our states, and by the most discerning men who in- habit them. He has filled important stations where temptation prevailed, and from which vio- lent suspicions and public clamors have even driven some. Their life and their death, their country seem to have regarded but little. With what sen- sations has his death been heard in every corner and among every description ? With such sensa- tions as mothers feel when cruelly bereft of the sons who had become their ornament ! In every place the wounding intelligence of his death has been received with consternation, with indignation, Avith horror. Whole cities have as- sembled to consult on the most becoming method of expressing their grief, and offering some tribute of respect to his memory. Societies of various kinds, military, scx^ial, literary and religious, have also met and agreed to join, on some peculiar ground, in the universal mourning. Is there a city, a society, an individual who has pleaded one sin- gle offence in his life to excuse them from min- gling their tears with others on the sad occasion. Our streets are crouded with those who carry badges of mourning, because the first of their fel- low-citizens has sunk in blood into the house [ IS ] appointed for all living. I hear America herself exclaim — " Many of my sons have done well, but " thou hast excelled them all!" His profession was law, an employment expo- sed to much censure and much suspicion : Yet, with an extensive practice and high reputation, he procured neither enmity nor complaint from the bench, the bar or the litigants. Every judge, with undissembled grief, mourns his loss, and bears testimony to his industry, his integrity, his decent and conciliating address. Every lawyer, distin- guished or obscure, who either opposed or stood on his side, has uniformly expressed the respect of his heart for his superlative genius, and for its faithful application. On a recent trial, in a croud- ed court, a counsel in opposition, fixing his eye and drawing the eyes of all present on him, hap- pily and justly exclaimed — *' If ever a man walk- *' ed through life with a window in his heart, that " is the man !" Among his numerous clients many committed to him the defence of their fortunes, their fame, their liberty and their lives : Never have we heard a whisper of censure on his capacity, his neglect of preparation, or his exertion. Even from those whom he warmly and success- fully opposed, Vv^e hear no charge of injury or in- sult. The illiberal practice of pouring invective, ridicule and abuse on witnesses or Opponents, his soul detested. It is a species of defence which no virtuous counsel will employ, because of its inhumanity ; and to which no able counsel will recur on account of its vulgarity. Law, fact, ar- gument, eloquence, were the only weapons that he wielded. Even when circumstances, and subjects- [ 16 ] clemanded chastisement and exposure, his delicate satire was the effusion of benevolent resentment. It excited the conscious blush of demerit, rather than its resentment or hatred. Who has been wounded that does not this day mourn ! As a Statesman his political opponents were rumerous and determined. He often excited their fears and provoked their animadversions; but he never forfeited their confidence nor lost their esteem. His views they denounced as erroneous, but they admitted that his heart was sincere and his intentions upright. The late mayor of this city, much acquainted with him, and uniformly opposed — a man whose integrity, whose candour, and whose attachment, I shall never cease to remember and respect, has of- ten exclaimed — " Hamilton is always generous *' — always decided ! To carry his fondest mea- *' sures I never knew him disguise his intentions *' or deny their consequences. On his word I could *' rely equally as his oath." Then in the spirit of party he would add, *' I am tempted to exclaim, *' Curse on his 'virtues, I fear tbey will enthral his " country.^' As a friend, his friends were numerous and dis- cerning : Yet none of them charge him with act- ing unfriendly. — Has he by his imprudence lost one ? Have those whom he retained charged him with coldness or with inconstancy ? Have they ever called in question the soundness of his judg- ment or the sincerity of his heart ? In proportion to their intimacy was their love, was their re- spect. Even habitual familiarity instead of con- tempt produced veneration. Shall I ask his relations, whether, while mild and benevolent to others, he was indifferent or ty- [17 ] rannical to them. The anguish of a mourning wi- dow, and the pathetic manner in whicii she be- wails her loss, connected with the last scenes of his life, proclaim him an husband indulgent and discreet, respectful and affectionate. His nume- rous and promising family, confounded and dis- consolate with the stroke that has torn from their embrace the kindest and most engaging of parents, at a time when they were just beginning to profit by his instructions, and to admire the charms of his conversation and the benevolence of his heart, will never cease to testify their sense of his pa- ternal tenderness, and the affectionate manner ia which they have been educated. The venerable and afflicted father of his wife, loaded with dis- ease and still bleeding by wounds, from the death of other objects very dear, seems to forget other distresses in this overwhelming calamity. Thus, on examination, we find, that neither in public nor in private life ; neither from friend nor from opponent, the smallest charge, the slightest censure is heard. His hands were not bound by a guilty conscience, his feet were not put in fetters by the decrees of justice. The envy of a fool begat malice — disappointed ambition rendered it desperate — desperation, en- couraged by unprincipled associates, urged to the Heaven daring deed ! And, in accomplishing his death, they have dug a grave, to receive their own blasted fame, their own polluted memories. 3dly. But the fool dieth without arranging his affairs, regardless of the effects on his family and on society. ^ Every man, not entirely an outcast of man- jkind, has connexions, on whose interest or hap- piness his death must have some influence. H© t 18 J who is not both ungenerous and insensible will; in the prospect of death, settle with the world, and set his house in order. This sentiment had remarkable authority over the views and conduct of the magnanimous cha- racter whom we now lament. In the last hours of his life, like a father entering on a long and peril- ous journey, he leaves nothing unadjusted, none without a charge. His unfeeling and insulting antagonist, either void of reflection, or with cruel and premeditated design, began his correspondence on the eve or during the term of a court in which several suit& of considerable importance pended, and in which he was engaged. When all just explanation was refused, and every honourable accommodation was rejected, he agreed (the only step in his life we cannot defend) to the bloody invitation. I hear hini express himself on accepting it thus : — *^ 1 am retained and employed by several clients ** in cases to them of great magnitude. On my ** counsel and exertion in their progress and is- " sue, their claims are previous to what you urge. *' Justice, honour, demand, that in this critical si- ** tuation I discharge in the first place my obliga- ** tions to them with attention and fidelity. To ** have a client's complaints or his tears mingling ** with my blood I cannot endure. *' I owe to my friends, to my country, and to *' the world, an exposure of my situation, an ex- " planation of my motives. Against them I have ** no complaint ; I have no reason to doubt of their *' respect. To withdraw myself from their society " and from the society of mankind, arises neither " from disgust, from disappointment, nor from en- ** mity to any man. To expose my life in single E 19 ] ^^ combat, my conscience condemns. From seek- ^' ing the blood of any man in this way my heart *' and my hand are equally averse. My antagonist *' requires the sacrifice of my truth — my ho- ^'nour; or the opportunity of taking my life. I *' will submit my situation and sentiments — Let *' the world judge. *' I have creditors also, who have a claim on *' my honour for a faithful reimbursement of what *' I am indebted to them. I must examine and *' arrange my property in such a manner that they '* may neither, if possible, suffer either in pay- *' ment or by delay. I require some time to lay *' the plan, and to select and authorize proper per- *' sons for its execution. *' I have a wife whose merits I cannot estimate *' too highly, and several children that are dear to *' me. My public services have prevented me *' from making such provisions for them as aifec* *' tion prompted and my duty required. To my " wife, if I cannot leave wealth, I must with deli- ** beration express my affection, and leave her '* some soothing expressions of advice— of conso- '* lation, " I have only two legacies to leave to my chil- *' dren. These I must bequeath. To others they ** may appear singular— to me, they are dear and ** estimable---to them, I pray and trust they may ** appear equally valuable. *' To their united attention and affeetion I re- '* solve to commit, an object to me the most in« " valuable on earth, the best of wives, the most * ' tender of mothers, " Another object united to my honour, the pay- ** ment of my debts, should my own estate be inad- *' equate for their discharge, I determine to devolve [ 20 ] *' on one, on all, "whenever they are able to extin- *' guish them. Had I estates to bequeath, they *' should share them : These I have not. — And if I *' had, I could neither secure their perpetuity nor *' promise them happiness while in their possession! ** In acceptingand discharging these sacred trusts, *' I feel impressed with the conviction, that they •' shall inherit their father's enjoyment when with *' them, with a satisfaction of heart that adversity " cannot tear from them. *' I have still subjects of higher importance that ** will claim my sacred and serious regard. I must •' review the nature of my acqaintance with my ** God ; I must by application to the blood, the *' merits, and the intercession of my Redeemer *' attempt to settle and extinguish my vast ac- *' counts with heaven! I must seek and obtain re- *' pentance and mercy from him who is exalted to *' give repentance and remission. I must wait till •' the next Lord's day pass, that without distrac- ** tion I may apply, that with renewed exercises ** of faith I may plead for mercy — for grace.'* Such it appears were the reflections of this de- voted victim when he accepted and signed the sen- tence of his own death : For with the judgment seat before him he declared, that he knew that his destruction was predetermined. Who now sus- pects the accuracy of his judgment ? And who laments not over the acceptance, the only foolish thing that stains the life and the death of the illus- trious dead ! But I remark, 4thly. That the fool dieth in thoughtless insen- sibility, or with indecent murmur and despairing remorse, Vhe sensualist described by our Saviour, evinces that many pass through life in undisturbed ease and [ 21 ] prosperity, die without apprehension of danger, and awaken only to conviction when shrouded in destruction. Others, after a life of crime and dissi- papation, are aroused by punishment, and urged by terror to load their enemies, their accomplices, themselves and their God, with bitter upbraiding. It was thus that Judas and others terminated a life of sin in a death of self-condemnation and self- violence. In neither of these extremes did the calamity of Hamilton issue. Every thing exhibits thought- fulness, every thing discovers magnanimity. In- sensibility did not enter into the ingredients of his character. Whatever subject arrested his notice he viewed with accuracy ; in whatever appeared important he felt deeply interested. In his last days. Death and Eternity occupied much of his thoughts and filled him with concern. His time for preparation had not been long, and he probably felt that it had been but partially improved. His family, his connexions, his country, were objects to him of much solicitude, and from which he felt himself withdrawing with benevolent reluctance. Could he have reconciled his stay by any method to his own sensations and heart, no separation in this way would have taken place. Unhappily for himself, for his family and for us, his excellent judgment in this respect egregiously failed him. But when he finds himself, by imperious circumstances, compelled *' to have his hands bound and his feet put in fetters,'' he neither utters murmur nor appears to feel resentment. In all his correspondence on this painful occa- sion ; in all his conversations, in his last notes to the world, he speaks of his opponent with respect- Jul charity. Instead of charging him invidiously with base and unjust motives, he attempts to plead [ 22 3 m his extenuation. In every sentence, in every* expression, the native dignity and generosity of his soul is displayed. In imitation of our Divine Redeemer, he seems to implore the mercy of the benevolent ruler and judge. Even now methinks 1 hear from his lips the fervent petition—" Forghc him, gracious Jbeaven, he hio%vs not what be seeks.^^ In his last remarks — " It is not my design," says he, " to fix an odium on him in the case. '* He doubtless has heard of animadversions of " mine that bore very hard upon him, and it is *' probable that as usual they were accompanied *' by some falsehoods. He may have supposed " himself under the necessity of doing as he has ** done. I hope the grounds of his proceeding *' have been such as ought to satisfy his own con- " science. I certainly had strong reasons for " what I may have said, though it is possible that ** in some particulars I may have been influenced *' by misconstruction or misrepresentation. It is ** also my ardent wish that I may have been more *' mistaken than I think I have been, and that he, " by his future conduct, may shew himself worthy ** of all confidence and esteem, and prove an orna- *' ment and blessing to the country." How amiable must have been the temper, how charitable the heart, that under his circumstances and provocations could have dictated these w^ords I How remote his death from that of the censorious ibol \ Every fool, when entangled in the web of his own folly, loads himself with censure. It merits our particular attention and admiration, that in all his embarrassment an expression of self-con» tkmnation or remorse is never heard. He never reflects on his zeal, on his candour, or his opposi- tiojij as being unnecessary or indiscreet. Instead C 2S ] of expressing a wish that he had acted otherwise than he did, he with modest firmness insinuates that without dereliction of principle and patriot- ism he could not have been silent. He acknow- ledges that his animadversions were severe, but that he is conscious of no ill-ivill, distinct from political opposition. Rut as it is possible, adds he, that I may have injured the man, however con- vinced myself that my opinions and declarations have been well founded and my conduct commen- dable, I resolve, if it please God to give me the opportunity, to expose myself without resistance €r attempting his hurt, to his fire, that he may have time to pause and to reflect. In all this I perceive honour untainted and delicate in the extreme. I mark the testimony of an approving conscience. I find nothing to censure in the illustrious Hero^ but submitting to the fetters which an impious custom, under the name of honour, has establish- ed, in daring contempt of the laws of heaven. Folly, beset with the snares of Death, seldom feils to arraign Divine Providence, and charge God foolishly. Even good Hezekiah himself, when threatened with a premature death, indul- ges complaint beyond the point of submission, in this dignified man we hear no reflection against Providence, nor reluctance to meet his fate be* yond the reluctance of innocence and benevolence. He neither mentions his services nor pleads his .e:ood intentions to shew that his lot was severe. — • He repines not that he is cut off in the middle oi* his days, when his family, his connexions and hi^ country needed his services and delighted in them. He expresses no unbecoming regret, that he wa* about to be torn from the execution of those pious and benevolent plans that the honorable and tran- fi^-uil evening of his life was opening to his views* [ 24 3 With the resignation and exercises of a Patriarch, he adores Providence, and dies exclaiming, " thy *' WILL BE DONE !" But wc obscrve in the last place — 5thly. That the fool dieth without soliciting ac- quaintance with God, through Jesus the Redeem- er, and a preparation for Eternal Rest. It is *' the fool who says in his heart there is no God," and who, " through the pride of his countenance, will not call on him." Whatever his reputation among men may be ; whatever his acquisitions and improvements, he who has made no provision for eternity, till death has overtaken him, is declared a fool by him who is constituted our example and judge. The respectable deceased, whose fate has ex- cited our sympathy and still demands the tribute of our tears, was born, and educated in his early years, in regions where religion has never flourished, nor engaged general cultivation. He entered the camp while yet a youth, where habits of piety are sel- dom acquired — often lost. He mingled with French officers — the warm supporters of Ameri- can independence — of elegant accomplishments, of engaging manners, by whom he was respected and caressed ; but all of whom were not only strangers to the pure principles of our venerable religion, but even infidels by system and fashion. It is not improbable, that infidelity, recom- mended by sprightliness and wit, might have re- ceived his countenance and assent, without much examination. Alas, the human heart in its pre- sent state, is too proud to embrace the doctrines, and too corrupted to relish the precepts of the cross ! But so generous was his nature, so nice his sense of propriety, that whatever his senti- ments were, he never obtruded them to^ the of- t 25 ] fence of the christian. When he retired from the field, he engaged in the study of law, politics and legislation, studies that rarely lead to reli- gious enquiries and rarely cherish pious affec- tions. But reflection like his, accompanied with exqui*. site sensibility, could not always remain indiffer- ent to subjects which reason and reason's disci- ples have always considered as equally interesting and sublime. I have been informed, through a channel that excludes doubt, that some years ago, immersed in the cares and avocations of his profession and family, his attention was awakened to his eternal concerns, and that he resolved to sit down and examine revelation by its own evidence. He be- gan, persisted, and arose from the examination under heart-felt conviction of its divine authori- ty, and that human salvation could be expected only through the blood, the agency and the spirit of the Son of God. The closing scene of his life, which the hardened infidel cannot coolly re- view with undisturbed countenance and heart ' — which the pious cannot contemplate but with gratitude and glowing affection, confirms my in- formation. I see the hero and the penitent u- iiite ; the father of American eloquence become the suppliant of gospel grace. The conversation of two clergymen with him In his last moments, has been excellently detail- ed in a letter from each ; of two clergymen of his own choice ; of two clergymen of distinguished piety, sensibility and fidelity ; to these I refer all •who wish to know the religious exercises of hi^ heart when he felt his soul every moment about to mount to his judge. [ 26 ] If an unshaken belief in the word of God as his divine charter for human recovery : If the deep^ and heart-felt conviction of the destructive and condemning demerit of sin : If a loathing sense of his own guilt, and especially of his daring pre- sumption, in yielding to man the life that God com- manded him to guard : If renouncing dependence on self, or any other object, except the suffei:- ings and obedience of God's son for sinners : If casting himself with the chief of sinners, at the foot of the cross, and pleading for mercy and par- don through grace : If expressing, with peculiar ardor his conviction, that Christ must be embraced by faith in order to justification : If an anxiousso- licitude to seal his faith in all these doctrines, and his trust that God had accepted him, by partaking of the Lord's supper in remembrance of him : — I say, if all these afford satisfactory evidence of his piety and trust, let us indulge the hope that Ha- milton died as a wise and righteous man dieth, though he died in wicked rencounter by the wick- ed demand of a wicked man. We come now — XL To offer some of the numerous reflections which this mo-urnful and frowning dispensation suggests. And, 1. It suggests a decided and universal condem- Ration of a practice unreasonable, inhuman and impious, which hath torn from our embrace, so^ prematurely, a character of so much excellence. Let none imagine that when we feebly attempt to do some justice to the merit of the illustrious dead, that we mean to represent him without im- perfection ; or that we feel not high detestation at his acceptance of the bloody call. No one inherits human nature exempted frora the depravity and frailties to which it has beca £ 2' ] subjected. Hamilton had no doubt a share la both. But with respect to his conduct in civil acid in social life, we firmly believe that few men have discovered fewer blemishes. On a character so luminous his appear like the spots on the fair disk of the sun. They will, on examination, be found of that kind, in general, to which he was hurried under the strong impulse of benevolence and generosity, before reflection and conscience eould be summoned t© his aid. The most indefensible act, in his amiable life, is that by which he deliberately surrendered his life to the hand of lawless violence. As it was a measure which his heart and his conscience equal- ly abhorred, and his compliance may give acceler- ated force to an evil already at an alarming height, his offenoe becomes more aggravated. This crime is a violation of every law which actuates living existence, from the angel to the iniseet. It is a breach of the law of instinct, which involun- tarily impels every animal, simple and subtle, to seek self preservation. It is a breach of the law of reason, which engages us to resign life to none but its rightful owner. It is a breach of the law of revclaiion, which commands us to guard our lives as the image of God on earth, and which de- clares the unnecessary exposure of them as treason against the majesty of Heaven. Duelling has become the disgrace and scourge of that portion of the christian world that profess sacred regard to honor, for I blush while I must acknowledge that to them, of all the tribes of men, it is wholly confined. It is the hideous offspring of savage, Gothic pride, by blind and slavish super^ stition. It made its first appearance in the licen- tious camps of the credulous champions of the . cross, in the cruel and barbarous crusades. Then C 28 ] the haughty soldier fell prostrate in secret before a crucifix, and m public, for every supposed af- front, in contempt of him who dignified the cross^ insisted that he had a right to challenge his brother to combat, and call heaven to witness and guide the hand of malice and of pride. With the diffusion of light and of love in Europe it received a checkj^ %vith the growth of gospel infidelity it has revived with encreasing malignity. It has received gene- ral shelter among us since the war, and disgraces our national establishments. The very persons who ought to have exerted their influence in its punish- ment and extirpation, have become particularly enslaved by it. What dreadful ravages has it re« cently made in the endearments of social and do- mestic life. What Father who enjoys a brave and generous son, feels himself a moment secure from its attack ? What Mother, what Wife, what Maid, ■who exults in the possession of manly excellence, whose heart is not kept in continual palpitation I The recent stroke, considered in all its circum- stances, I view as the awful voice of heaven in- censed at our nation. We have tamely left the destructive monster to stalk among us, we have dared to give him titles of honor. God in his wrath has permitted him to cut down the fairest ornament of our nation, and the ablest champion of our rights. Should insurrection raise her dis- organizing front, of which we cannot deny there are strong symptoms, whom shall she call to direct her strength, or to whose counsel, without sus- jpicion, will she listen ? I repeat the question. Who will answer ? Arouse ! law, justice, public sentiment and pub- lic indignation ! Let age and wisdom speak, let youth and inexperience listen* Let female influ* [ ^9 ] cnce, alwaj^s so persuasive, always so powciTiil, be employed on the side of humanity, and blast the hopes of the fool who would court with hands besmeared in innocent blood their esteem, or their silent approbation. Let the last words of Ha- milton to his country, let his dying regrets, let public grief melt your hearts; let his blood, unjust- ly shed, rouse America from her slumbers, and ex- cite her determined opposition. Many considerations might be urged in pallia- tion of ihis man's resolution. His nice and strong sense of honor, his long confirmed habits as a soU dier and statesman, his connexions in life, his pros- pects of public usefulness, the general and unhap- py sentiments of honor universally prevalent. Let them palliate, but justice must condemn. It has been said with confidence, that the chal- lenge might have been rejected without censure, nay, with accumulated honor and respect. I at first thought so. I appealed through experience to human nature. Her general conduct makes mc hesitate. I see no way that remained for him but to yield to this abominable custom, and try to preserve unsullied honor in the world's eye, or to renounce her censure and her praise when different from the approbation of God, and to have publicly embra- ced the Cross and the Savior, accounting with a very great man, all things else, when compared to the excellence of Christ, as loss ! loss ! 2ndly. This frowning dispensation suggests the necessity of greater circumspection in the choice of those whom we raise to office, and greater delicacy in the manner of obtaining their election. No occurrence more atrocious than what now engages our thoughts has ever wounded our [ 30 ] national ear. What adds to the pain and danger, is, that the man who now fills the second place iiT our government has been the perpetrator of tliis nefarious deed. He who has been honoured with the confidence and voiceof the larger portion of our citizens, and whose duty it is to preserve the ho- nour of our country, has stained our national an-r Dais and character with a crime, that time cannot efface. Let shame cover us when we see the ma- gistrate descend from his chair, and in defiance of law insist on becoming accuser, judge and executi-. oner ; when we see that arm in which we confided for protection, employed in extinguishing the purest light that ever guided our councils, and destroy- ing in personal revenge, the most faithful guar- dian of our privileges! Decided political principles^ moral sensibi- lity and religious obligation^ ought never to be dispensed with in those whom we place in autho- rity, whatever mental endowments they may pos- sess. Infidelity, under gospel light, is always dange- rous, frequently destructiv^e. He who possesses not moral discernment to recognize the word and plans of God in the volume of Revelation, must labour imder some depravity of heart or deficiency in intel- lect. He who on scripture evidence refuses to give credit to God, deserves no credit from his country. Infidelity is the scourge as well as the sign of the present times. In private life it is either cold, or malicious, peevish, restless and inconsistent.. Dissatisfied alike with the appointmtcnts of heaven and the arrangements of men, novelty and change arc its divinities. When opposed it is more cru- el and insatiable than superstition, for it feels no restraint. When allowed to rule uncontroled, it changes till her own desolation fills her with con- sternation. France furnisjjes a national examplCo [ SI 3 Sh€ has seen the round of reformation and changie, and now embraces despotism with as much ardor as she once overturned her throne. Fame paints the author of our grief as a practi- cal infidel, an infidel in theory. His cold cruelty^ his revenge, his contempt of all that is admired^ confirm the suspicion. Had I a voice that could reach and arguments to persuade, I would never cease to proclaim, O America ! avoid infidel rulers as you would avoid certain desolation. The manner in which, for some years, our elec^ tions have been conducted, merits national execra* tion. Parties range themselves in hostile array, and every candidate must run for the prize thro* these ranks, exposed, wounded and disgraced. The Printers' aid is also solicited. Like birds ©f game, without malice and without provocation, they make sport to the public as their party prompts or supplies them with materials. By this practice our elective privileges are converted into a curse ; they pollute the public car, they wound personal and domestic peace, they, as in the present melan- choly case, excite to murder. *' O my soul, come " not thou into their secret, into their assembly my *' honor be thou not united. For in their anger *' they slew a man -, in their self-will they digged *' down a wall. Cursed be their anger, for it wasi *' fierce ; and their wrath, for it was cruel. I will *' divide them in Jacob and scatter them in Israel.'* Sdly. This mournful dispensation, accompanied with so many circumstances of distress, furnishes^ also one subject of gratitude and triumph to the pious and benevolent. The much lamented victim, on mature reflec» tion, after hearing all the arguments and all the scoffs of the infidel, after full acquaintance with all t 52 3 Ms pleasures and all his expectations, deserted Ills gloomy camp, and in lowly submission enrolled his name among the disciples of the Savior* The dignity of his deportment in the dark val- ley of the shadow of death, his acceptance of the kingdom of God with the docility of the child, the exercises of his heart, marked with penitence, marked with trust, discover that his soul was no stranger to the sublime mysteries of the gospel, and that his affections felt their influence and ex- tent. He solicited no instructions, he labored under no doubt, his only request was for some cheering and sealing consolation to support his soul amidst the pangs of dissolution, and to aid its flight to regions of rest. This fairest and most durable feature in his cha- racter, 1 know will add nothing, with the world, to his reputation. I even foresee that when the pre- sent tide of grief subsides, many will reflect with disgust that lie died a believer. Acquaintance ■with Christ casts down a man's dignity in the eye of the multitude. But their censure or their ap- plause can reach him no more. His fame rests on foundations too solid to be shaken, his merits are inscribed on pillars unperishable. His christian profession, his warm and unaffected piety, I fond- ly hope, may awaken thousands, and inspire the awakened with courage to avow their convictions— the convinced to receive the salvation of the Lord. What genius, what merits, what honours, what connexions, ought to keep back their possessor from embracing that cross with whichHAMiLTON was captivated, on which with all his powers ht leaned, at the foot of which, glorying in its vir- tues, he breathed out his soul to God. THE EKD. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 011 836 908 7