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THE PUBLIC MAN 
 
 A DISCOURSE 
 
 ON OCCASION OF THE 
 
 DEATH OF HON. JOHN FAIRFIELD, 
 
 DELIVERED IN WASHINGTON, DEC. 26, 1847, 
 
 BY JOSEPH HENRY ALLEN, 
 
 PASTOR OF THE UNITARIAN CHURCH. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 
 
 
 
 WASHINGTON : 
 
 T . BARNARD, PRINTER. 
 
 1848. 
 

 
 
 ^t-o 
 
 
 pi g, - 
 
 / 
 
Washington, December 27, 1847. 
 
 Dear Sir: — The undersigned were present yesterday, and listened, 
 with those feelings which it was adapted' to excite, to your chaste, ap- 
 propriate and eloquent Discourse upon the death of Governor Fairfield. 
 
 Although it must necessarily have been the result of a few hours of 
 study and application on your part, it was conceived in such good 
 taste, and its tone and sentiment are calculated to do so much, good, 
 that we respectfully request you to furnish a copy for publication. 
 
 JOHN P. HALE, W. W. SEATON, 
 
 JOHN G. PALFREY, WM. G. ELIOT, 
 
 B. B. FRENCH, JAMES ADAMS, 
 
 CHARES HUDSON, C. S. FOWLER, 
 
 DANIEL P. KING, GEO. J. ABBOT. 
 LEVI WOODBURY, 
 
 We concur in the above request. 
 
 J. W. BRADBURY, 
 W. CRANCH, 
 ALBION K. PARRIS. 
 
 Rev. J. H. Allen. 
 
 Washington, December 28, 1847. 
 
 Gentlemen : — I have received your note of yesterday, asking a 
 copy of my Discourse for publication. • To a request coming in such 
 a form there is no room for refusal ; and the manuscript is accordingly 
 at your service. 
 
 Thanking you for the unexpected honor you have done me by this 
 proposal, and with sentiments of the highest esteem, 
 
 I am, your obedient servant, 
 
 J. H. ALLEN. 
 Hon. John P. Hale, and others. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 I have employed the interval of time since the delivery of the following Dis- 
 course, in carefully substantiating the accuracy of the facts and allusions contained 
 in it, and have not found cause to vary at all from any statements I have made. 
 
 The gentlemen to whose friendly interest I am indebted for my materials, will ac- 
 cept my grateful acknowledgment. To those who have kindly offered to furnish 
 additional data to be embodied in the Discourse, I return my sincere thanks ; but 
 as its nature and design, no less than the short time of preparation allowed, pre- 
 vent its being a full and authentic record of events, I have preferred to retain it in 
 its original form, only adding a few lines where required by the connexion. 
 
 By the courtesy of the gentlemen whos.e duty it became to announce the death 
 of Governor Fairfield in the Houses of Congress, I am permitted to insert their 
 
 remarks in the form of an Appendix. 
 
 J. H. A. 
 
 Washington, December 29, 1847. 
 
DISCOURSE. 
 
 JOB xxiv. 24. 
 
 They are exalted; — in a little while they are gone! 
 They are brought low and die, like all others ; 
 And like the ripest ears of corn are they cut off.* 
 
 The sudden and painful announcement, made to us 
 yesterday morning, as we entered this house for our 
 Christmas service, has left one thought foremost and 
 prominent in every mind. It would be doing injustice 
 to the occasion which Providence has offered us, to re- 
 fuse to take the notice of it, which its grave and melan- 
 choly importance demands. The thoughts suggested by 
 an event so striking, gathered up in the brief interval 
 that has since elapsed, it is my duty and my mournful 
 privilege to offer to you now. 
 
 I need not stand here, my friends, to moralize upon 
 the uncertainty of life, and the unlooked-for coming of 
 death. God has spoken to us, in the events of his Pro- 
 vidence, louder and better than the voice of any man can 
 speak in his behalf. Within these last few months the 
 Senate of our country has been nearly decimated by the 
 
 "No-yes's Version. 
 
impartial and unsparing hand of death. And now, for 
 yet further warning that our counsellors act in the direct 
 presence, as it were, of futurity, and before the judgment 
 of the spiritual world, one more is taken from our very 
 side; — one in the midst of days and the full maturity of 
 judgment; one in the active and busy discharge of the 
 duties of his station; one singularly trusted, and honored 
 by the forward and repeated testimonials of his fellow- 
 citizens' esteem ; one blending the strict principle and 
 clear conviction of Christian faith, with the cheerful 
 spirit and domestic affection which bring a man most 
 near to the friendly regard of others; one diligently ful- 
 filling the unostentatious duties of humble life, worthily 
 bearing the unsought honors of office, patiently submit- 
 ting to the long pressure of disease and pain, and with 
 a steady and quiet faith preparing through his life's course 
 for its inevitable and at last strangely sudden close. 
 
 It is not wise, as a general rule, to speak of the per- 
 sonal character of those lately deceased, at least from this 
 sacred and public place. A friend's partiality, the un- 
 avoidable uncertainty of human judgment, and the altered 
 and softened feeling which one's death brings about in 
 us, are so many perils to that perfect truthfulness, with- 
 out which praise is but impertinent, and eulogy a poor 
 and impotent pretence. Yet some circumstances may 
 justify me in departing for the first time from that rule. 
 
We meet, many of us, as strangers ; and a stranger's 
 death impresses US far less than that of a neighbor and 
 friend. We lose here, in some degree, that sense of the 
 close interweaving of life and life, of the intimate inter- 
 dependence whereby each man is united with all others, 
 which in a differently constituted community makes one 
 of the strongest incentives to virtue, and the most pow- 
 erful restraint upon wrong. The more seriously, then, 
 should an instance of this sort be reflected on, so as to 
 restore a portion of that impressiveneoS, which is in dan- 
 ger of being lost. 
 
 And besides, the voluntary assumption of a high and 
 public responsibility excludes a man from the possibility 
 of escaping the world's judgment, that cannot be bribed 
 to withhold its condemnation or applause. His acts are 
 done in the world's eye. His conduct is seen and judged 
 from far. His influence, for good or harm, is widely 
 felt. For example or for warning, it must and ought 
 to be widely used. And in view of all these reasons, 
 I will use the privilege of this day, to speak a few 
 words of him who is lately gone. Rendered more 
 pleasant and valuable to me by the slight acquaintance 
 which I can only regret now was not longer, the unani- 
 mous and singularly concurring testimony of his personal 
 friends, borne out by what I can gather of the public acts 
 ol his life, is urging me to improve this occasion, to speak 
 the word, frankly and sincerely, which is now his last 
 earthly due. 
 
8 
 
 John Fairfield was born on the thirtieth day of Jan- 
 uary, 1797, and died on the evening of the twenty-fourth 
 of the present month ; having served his State four years 
 each, as Representative, Governor, and Senator. He 
 has therefore lived something more than half a century ; 
 and of this period about one-fourth has been passed in 
 the highest councils of his State or country. It belongs 
 to another time and place, to consider more in detail 
 both the incidents of his life, and the traits of character 
 which have made him so widely honored and beloved. 
 Here and now, we may think of him as one we have 
 been accustomed to meet in friendly and religious fellow- 
 ship; as a constant friend and supporter of our little 
 Church; as a man and a Christian, whose private worth 
 we have known somewhat, and esteemed. And the il- 
 lustration which his life has given us of a few sterling 
 qualities of mind and heart, must needs be welcome, and 
 cannot fail to be impressive now. It may serve as a fit in- 
 troduction and enforcement to some few words touching 
 the standard of personal character, by which one in his 
 high and responsible position should be measured. 
 
 I would first mention, as an honorable thing for him, 
 that in all the expressions I have heard of warm esteem and 
 approbation^ no allusion whatever has been made to 
 anything of a party character. Whatever honor he has 
 gained has been from the integrity of his position as a 
 man, and from the discharge of what he held to be his 
 
9 
 
 personal and private obligation. His name is most nearly 
 associated with no sectional or party triumph; but with 
 acts involving what he held to be Christian duty, and the 
 claim either of private humanity and justice, or of a 
 broad and generous nationality. Of the numerous pub- 
 lic measures in which he doubtless had a share, and in 
 which it is but common candor to presume that he fol- 
 lowed his own conviction of right, it does not become 
 me to pass any judgment in this place. His own private 
 conception of duty is that by which each must abide the 
 perfect witness of the all-judging God. That is a private 
 matter between a man and his Maker. A sacred and im- 
 penetrable veil is drawn over it, which the eye of man 
 cannot pierce — beyond which his verdict may not dare 
 to go. Of one's opinions and modes of judging, so far 
 as they involve his personal character, presuming his sin- 
 cerity, we have no right to speak. And it is the more 
 grateful therefore to me, to remind you of the public 
 acts and passages of his life, where he has planted him- 
 self on Christian principle, and independently pleaded in 
 behalf of the simply right. It is honorable alike to him 
 and to his fellow-citizens, that the strong regard and in- 
 terest manifested towards him, by which he was almost 
 by acclamation lifted to the highest offices of trust in his 
 native State, was due, not to the advocacy of any one in- 
 terest, or fidelity in party allegiance, but to the ground 
 he nobly took and vindicated at first alone, when a 
 
10 
 
 friend's life had just been made the bloody sacrifice to 
 a false code of honor. It was the integrity and firm 
 principle of the man, not the adroit advocate's skill, or 
 the blind fealty of an adherent to any association or 
 league, that gained him men's confidence, and raised 
 him to the highest dignities they had to give. 
 
 As a consequence of this, we observe a simplicity and 
 truthfulness, gracing equally his private as his public life. 
 So far as man can judge, he acted on precisely the same 
 principles, with equal contentment integrity and self- 
 respect, in both. As in his eyes the man was more than 
 the station, we find that office sought him, and not he it. 
 It was urged upon him, as a testimonial to his private 
 worth. Not because he had been busy and forward in 
 promoting the schemes of one side or another, but pre- 
 cisely because he had done no such thing, because he 
 had been a quiet, unambitious, useful citizen, and held 
 himself aloof from the fervid contention of more forward 
 men, he was selected as the one most likely to succeed, 
 and worthiest to bear the honors of the unsought station. 
 It was because, in his esteem, the man was more than the 
 place he fills, that his modesty shrank not from the post 
 of difficult and hazardous responsibility, or from doing, 
 when the time came, what he thought that post demand- 
 ed of him. Simple honesty, good sense and steady 
 principle, as they are among the main virtues of private 
 life, so they kept him from being hurt by the glare or 
 
11 
 
 seduced by the tempting ambitions and deceits of public 
 office. In the good old Latin meaning of that word;, it 
 was synonymous to him with duty. And so he served 
 conscience and God and man, it mattered little what the 
 place or apparent dignity of that duty might be. As 
 one active in promoting the interests or recording the old 
 traditions of his native town, or as zealously seeking the 
 welfare of his Church, or as the leader of their Sunday 
 School, he w r as as cheerfully and busily engaged, and as 
 honorably doubtless in his own eyes, as when taking the 
 hazardous decision that might involve the tremendous 
 issue of peace or war. At home or abroad, in the low- 
 est or the highest place before men's eyes, one would 
 still find him acting in the same diligent cheerful and 
 unobtrusive way ; still discharging, as well as he knew 
 how, the equally sacred obligations of his private or his 
 public life. 
 
 And still further, as the crown and consummation of 
 the character, I may mention the evidence he has given 
 of religious faith and principle, as unequivocally as we 
 often find ; so that we have as good right as in any 
 case, to appeal to it and take advantage of it now. It 
 was this which made him — a plain sailor in the begin- 
 ning, a humble tradesman, a self-taught scholar and 
 an industrious citizen — through all his life a faithful, 
 upright and honorable man, fit to be honored with higher 
 trusts. It was this which made him equally single-mind- 
 
12 
 
 ed, honest and true, in each different sphere of action. 
 It was this which made him — domestic as he was in his 
 tastes and affections, and rather seeking privacy than no- 
 toriety — yet clear decided and unalterably firm, when 
 called to assume a difficult responsibility; and which 
 made him acknowledge one and the same obligation, 
 wherever he chanced to be. It was a fine illustration 
 of this, that once, in answer to the direct and searching 
 question of his youthful pastor at home, he answered, 
 without any sign of impatience or resentment, " Yes, I 
 do, when I take my seat as legislator, remember then my 
 responsibility as a Christian, for the word I speak or the 
 vote I give." How beautiful a testimony to the truthful- 
 ness of their Christian intercourse, — to the fidelity of the 
 pastor, and the simple frankness and integrity of the man. 
 The same religious faith and principle sustained him, not 
 in patience so much as gladness and alacrity of spirits, 
 through the many years' course of the painful complaint 
 which has now taken him away. " Cheerfulness is half 
 the victory," said he to one who was suffering under 
 a like severe disease ; giving then the counsel, we may 
 be sure, wrung painfully enough out of the well dis- 
 guised and uncomplaining experience of long years of dis- 
 tress. With the willing sympathy of friends and fellow- 
 Christians, we remind each other now of his example, in 
 life, in duty, in suffering and death : and in submissive 
 trust commend his family, so affiictively bereaved, to the 
 
13 
 
 love of the widow's God, and the Father of the father- 
 less. 
 
 Before the solemn portal of the grave, all human pas- 
 sion is at' peace. The envy and care, the jealous ani- 
 mosity, the party strife, have no more a voice in the still 
 and silent courts of Death. Difference of opinion is for- 
 gotten now in the common thought of mortality; or 
 swallowed up in those broader principles, of sentiment 
 and duty and faith, which make the best portion of the 
 life of every man. We forget the partial, in which we 
 were at variance, and remember the universal, wherein 
 we are all alike. We bow in reverence before the dic- 
 tate of the Almighty ; and, subdued by that, we cherish 
 the memory of the departed, as of a fellow in our hu- 
 manity — as of a brother in our Lord. 
 
 I do not, brethren and friends, I dare not, hold up any 
 one man's character as a standard or a model for our own. 
 It is for the sake of the personal interest which attaches 
 to a few special traits, when illustrated in the life of one 
 we have known and lately lost, that I bring together, in 
 this passing record, what I have been able to gather of 
 the character and acts of our departed friend. Quietly, 
 unobtrusively, as a good man would choose to be spoken 
 f _ without vague declamation and empty praise, which 
 are but dishonor to the memory of the deceased,— I have 
 
14 
 
 sought now to bring before you, as grouped in my own 
 mind, the facts and principles that made the ground-work 
 of his life. They help, by a living example, to make 
 more clear a few points in the ideal standard of personal 
 character, which should be held by every man, and es- 
 pecially by every public man. 
 
 I make no apology, then, for going on to say in a few 
 words something of what that character should be. I 
 shall not insult your understanding, or trespass on the 
 liberty of your own moral judgment, by any attempt to 
 define and prescribe the requirements of duty for you ; 
 but the sacred motive and the universal principles from 
 which all duty must proceed, it is always in place to urge. 
 The dignity of the topic, the solemnity of the occasion 
 which brings it before us now, the imperishable majesty 
 and grandeur of the scheme of Christian truth, of which 
 it is but a part — all combine to abate the imposingness of 
 personal distinctions, and to place us on the even level 
 of our humanity. We stand together all alike as men. 
 Far towering above us is the majestic form of our Chris- 
 tian faith. Around us lies the great plain or battle-field 
 of life; and at our side solemnly sound the hushed and 
 awful voices of the dead. But one thought seems to 
 belong to this hour. One lessons seems impressed by 
 the dread event. One question presses heavily on the 
 conscience. One solemn mandate comes to us in the tones 
 of mourning that pay a sad respect to the memory of 
 
15 
 
 the yet unburied dead. The honored and trusted man 
 that is among you, what is it for him to be in all respects 
 as he should be — an upright and true man, a whole man, 
 a Christian man in his appointed place ? 
 
 Taking up the principles suggested, in the order in 
 which they have already been ranged and illustrated, I 
 shall go on to state in a few short words the correspond- 
 ing points of Christian character. None is so mean, and 
 none so proud, but he must confess the authority of that 
 law. 
 
 The very first feature of such a character, is that it 
 proceeds by broad principles, and personal fidelity to the 
 highest right; not by allegiance to any set of measures 
 or set of men. This is the absolute and indispensable 
 condition of all public virtue. However much the man 
 may act with and for a party, and to favor its interests, 
 it must be because he believes that in that particular 
 thing he does, he is doing best service, not to his side, 
 but to truth, to his country and to God. He must be 
 utterly forgetful and unconscious that any other obliga- 
 tion can possibly for an instant interfere with his sense 
 of what is right. By whatsoever name any such other 
 obligation may be called, when he rises in behalf of prin- 
 ciple, it ought to fall from him, " as a thread of tow is 
 broken when it toucheth the fire," — as the green withs 
 fell from the hands of the stout Jewish champion. The 
 
16 
 
 language in which any such factitious obligation is spoken 
 of, should be to him as a lost and unknown tongue. The 
 ideal of absolute right should so penetrate and take pos- 
 session of his soul, as to render utterly impossible any 
 minor sense of imperfect obligation, — consuming it as 
 fire burns dry stubble, or as the rod of a more potent 
 enchanter devoured all the magicians' rods, that tried 
 their rival arts. 
 
 It is only by some such image as these, of perfect au- 
 thority, of absolute supremacy, that we have a right to 
 represent the majesty of the command of truth and justice. 
 No doubtful jurisdiction, no divided or disputed sove-in 
 reignty, can there be brooked or endured. Right and 
 policy — principle and expediency — fair allies enough if 
 the former is supreme, cannot stand for an instant on an 
 equal footing. No man can serve two masters; for 
 either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he 
 will hold to the one and despise the other. Ye cannot 
 serve God and Mammon. 
 
 If section or party is the rival to a true patriotism, 
 nothing less broad than the whole country, — if the whole 
 country in its length and breadth is the rival to humanity 
 and right, nothing less broad than the universe, should 
 be comprehended in the circle of your vision. Are you 
 a man the humblest in the land, having yet the right and . 
 duty of opinion with respect to the public welfare ; or 
 are you the highest in place and authority in the land, 
 
17 
 
 so that her weal or wo may perchance depend on your 
 single voice, — that only must be the principle to guide 
 you — that and no lower. Bate not a jot or tittle of that 
 requirement; else your footing is a quicksand, while 
 you breast helplessly the wild and surging storm. 
 
 Next, let the principle be one and the same, that 
 guides your public and your private life. " As Bishop 
 I may not shed man's blood," said one of the ecclesias- 
 tical nobles of France, "but as Prince I will lead my men 
 to battle." " But," said his servant, too simple to com- 
 prehend the casuistry, " when Satan comes for the 
 Prince, what shall become of the Bishop?' In the 
 sight of God, of man, of your own conscience, armed 
 with the terrors of both, the man in his public or his 
 private capacity is absolutely one and inseparable. If he 
 does not bring the honor to the station, the honor it 
 brings him will be but the empty prefix to a name. 
 Nothing is worthy of any man's respect, but that gen- 
 uine self-respect, which regards all stations as alike in 
 dignity, if alike in the worth that fills them ; which is 
 above the paltry vanity or the miserable conceit that 
 perpetually seeks to plant its footsteps still above another 
 grade ; which scorns the base compliance and the un- 
 worthy artSj whereby some have sought the fictitious 
 and imaginary consequence of some special department 
 of service. O reform it altogether ! Keep to that whole- 
 
18 
 
 ness, simplicity and truthfulness of that character, which 
 sees in the variety of places only varying opportunities 
 of doing right. Seek in all alike the integrity, purity 
 and high-mindedness, which are every man's best trea- 
 sure in the sight of God. 
 
 What a privilege it is, beyond almost every other, that 
 the high principle and honorable conduct of a man of the 
 world, is such a sincere and unsuspected tribute to the 
 power and reality of virtue! What a rebuke to the 
 mean and cowardly betrayal some men make, in distant 
 places, of the personal purity and the moral obligation 
 they would have been afraid and ashamed to betray at 
 home ! Men cannot say, such an one does so of course, 
 and because he must. They cannot enfeeble the force 
 of his worfls, by saying or hinting that he says them pro- 
 fessionally, and because just that is expected of him. 
 Nothing of that ungenerous and pitiful surmise which so 
 utterly stops the preacher's mouth and shackles his hand, 
 that he has not nerve enough to put his own doctrine in 
 practice, — no slur upon his inexperience in real life, can 
 be in the way, when a man of business, dealing daily in 
 the affairs of the world, lives out simply, strongly, unos- 
 tentatiously, the law of right as it lies in his own con- 
 science and heart. He is the true teacher. He is the 
 prevailing preacher of righteousness. He delares, un- 
 embarrassed and free, the principles he has tested, and 
 lived out, and abided by. Here virtue is not a sounding 
 
19 
 
 name, but an outstanding fact; not an exhortation, but 
 
 a fulfilment; not an assertion or an anticipation, but a 
 life. There is not a single one of you, my hearers, 
 whom I may not envy the opportunity you have, of 
 being a far more effectual preacher of righteousness, 
 than ever I could be. 
 
 And lastly, religious principle as the foundation and 
 vital element of such a character — faith in God and 
 Christ, as the support of virtue, the inspiration of manly 
 endeavor, the consoler of grief, the assuager of pain, 
 the preparation for life and death, — of this too must 
 one word be said. That one word is, you are men. In 
 the heavy pressure of duty, in the whirl and perplexity 
 of care, in the burdensome and weary responsibility, in 
 the dread anticipation of possible calamity and certain 
 death, you have the wants, the trials, the spiritual need of 
 the universal human heart. "One may live," (I use 
 the solemn language of a tribute paid but two years 
 since to one of our most wise and distinguished jurists,) 
 " One may live as a conqueror, a king, or a magistrate; 
 but he must die as a man. The bed of death brings 
 every one to his pure individuality — to the intense con- 
 templation of that deepest of all relations, the relation 
 between the creature and his Creator." 
 
 Here is something which comes close home to the ex- 
 perience and secret thought of us all. This gradual dis- 
 solution ; this conflict, day by day and week after week, 
 
20 
 
 with pain ; this yielding before the slow approaches of 
 disease ; this parting one by one with the thoughts and 
 plans and prospects that had made life pleasant to us ; 
 this familiarizing ourselves, through suffering, with the 
 form and features of death;— all this — yes, all, in its 
 slow inevitable progress, in its varied processes of agony 
 and feebleness and the gradual loss of hope — we must 
 submit to it all, in such measure and in such shape as we 
 shall be called to meet it. Whether with us the strug- 
 gle be one of moments, or hours, or days, or weeks, or 
 months, or years, it is yet the same ; in its brief agony 
 or lengthened tediousness, it is all the same. It is the 
 one continually repeated struggle of Life with Death, of 
 Nature with Dissolution. We can hold parleyings 
 with the Destroyer. We can make a truce with him 
 for a time. We can deal with symptoms by science, and 
 prolong our days by care. But the process is still the 
 same, and the result the same. Life grapples with 
 Death; and the strife may hold out long: but Death 
 always comes off victorious. One after another is en- 
 countered and overthrown, and still Death unwearied 
 seeks his man. The furrows on the brow, and the pale- 
 ness of the cheek, the features becoming more thin and 
 the step more unsteady,— all these are the signs and 
 tokens Death puts upon his victims, when he marks them 
 for his own. The time is coming with us all. The 
 change we see in one another's faces, after the interval of 
 no more than a single year, is too plain a symptom to be 
 
21 
 
 mistaken. The tokens of Death we read in one another. 
 We know that we are wearing them ourselves. Gradu- 
 ally but surely we are walking together towards the si- 
 lent valley ; and it will not be long before we are all 
 gathered there. 
 
 Look back upon that interval of a single year. Its 
 last Sabbath has summoned us to this solemn service. 
 Besides those who have fallen in blood upon the bloody 
 battle-field, count the number of those high in place and 
 honorable, whom God has called away. 
 
 " They are exalted ; — in a little while they are gone ! 
 They are brought low and die, like all others ; 
 And like the ripest ears of corn are they cut off." 
 
 One thing only is safe and sure — that stainless vir- 
 tue, reposing on religious faith and principle, which 
 is as far from bravado as from fear, in the face of life and 
 death, — which is perfect trust in God, and perfect re- 
 liance on the word of Him, who brought life and 
 
 IMMORTALITY TO LIGHT. 
 
 And once again : — Is it too tedious a repetition, to 
 say that the time for your Christian virtue to act is 
 now. It is no one single burst of generous sentiment 
 that is wanted, no enthusiasm of the moment, no loud 
 and boastful talk, no noisy measures of sudden sectarian 
 or private action. All these are easy and cheap. What 
 we want, what you want, is something higher, broader, 
 
22 
 
 deeper far than the)*. It demands nothing less than the 
 serious and earnest purpose of a full-grown man. It 
 exacts the whole homage of the heart, and the steady 
 allegiance of the life. The price will be no less than 
 that; and what is purchased is fairly worth the price. 
 It is that great joy, which " fills the soul as God fills the 
 universe, silently and without noise." It is like unto 
 treasure hid in a field ; the which when a man hath found 
 he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that 
 he hath, and buyeth that field. 
 
 Now is the trial of your principle. Now is the test 
 of your integrity. Now is the time for your virtue to be 
 at work. As I look upon you, one by one, I cannot but 
 feel that in the natural course of things I snail record, 
 one by one, in my own memory, the deaths of all or most 
 of the strong active and influential men, whom I see be- 
 fore me ; and that, in all probability, you will be severally 
 taken out of the very press of care, in the fulness of days 
 and strength, still surrounded with the occupations, and 
 bound in the habits of thought, that belong to your pres- 
 ent way of life. Any plan for virtue hereafter, that does 
 not include the practice of virtue now, is thoroughly de- 
 ceitful, false and wrong. To God and your own con- 
 science I then commend you ; that you may follow the 
 footsteps of all the honorable wise and good ; that your 
 life may be perfect and upright, and the end thereof be 
 peace. 
 
A P P E N D 1 X 
 
 IN SENATE. 
 
 MOISDAY, December 27. 
 
 THE LATE SENATOR JOHN FAIRFIELD. 
 
 Mr. BRADBURY rose and addressed the Senate as follows: 
 
 Mr. President : I rise for the performance of a duty too painful 
 for language to describe. 
 
 One who was with us in this Chamber, at the last meeting of the 
 Senate, attending to his official duties, assisting in our deliberations, 
 and as confidently looking forward to the future as those who are now 
 present, has suddenly fallen in our midst. He is now numbered with 
 the dead. 
 
 Four times has the Senate already been called during the few days 
 of its Session, to manifest the last tokens of respect for the honored 
 dead, who have been prevented from entering upon the field of their 
 labors in the present Congress. Now, the destroyer has entered these 
 Halls, and struck down his victim before our eyes. 
 
 The Hon. John Fairfield is no more. He died at his lodgings in 
 this city on Friday last. 
 
 The sudden and startling announcement of his death preceded the 
 intelligence of danger. . 
 
 On the morning of that day he was in his usual health, and met Ins 
 friends with his accustomed cheerfulness and cordiality. At noon, he 
 submitted to a surgical operation, to which, with undoubting confid- 
 ence, he had looked for relief from an infirmity under which he had 
 labored. His physical energies were not equal to his fortitude and 
 
24 
 
 courage. His system sank under the unabated anguish which fol- 
 lowed ; and at twenty minutes before eight o'clock in the evening, in 
 the full possession of his mind, he breathed his last. Scarcely had 
 the friends that were with him anticipated danger, when his pure 
 spirit took its flight. 
 
 From an affliction so appalling, it is difficult to divert attention, 
 even to contemplate for a moment the life and character of the 
 deceased. Gov. Fairfield was born at Saco, in the county of York, 
 Maine, January 30, 1797. In that place he has ever resided. Dis- 
 tinguished by an ardent love of knowledge, an active mind, and great 
 strength of purpose, on arriving at manhood he devoted himself to the 
 law, and entered a profession which has contributed its full share in 
 the establishment and defence of constitutional liberty. At the bar he 
 soon acquired such reputation, that he received from the Executive of 
 the State, the appointment of Reporter of the Decisions of the Supreme 
 Judicial Court. 
 
 While in the successful performance of the duties of this office, he 
 was called by the electors of the First Congressional District, without 
 solicitation or desire on his part, to take his place in the councils of 
 the nation as a Representative in Congress. He received a re-elec- 
 tion; and it is well known, that he discharged the responsible duties 
 devolved upon him on trying occasions in a manner alike honorable 
 l o himself and to his constituents. 
 
 His services were now demanded in a different sphere. He was 
 elected Governor of his native State ; and so strong was his hold upon 
 the confidence and regard of the people, that he was thrice re-elected 
 to the same exalted station. It was during this period of his public 
 life, when great and unusual responsibilities were thrown upon him as 
 the Chief Executive of the State, growing out of collisions with a For- 
 eign Power, that he displayed a decision and firmness of character 
 which commanded the respect, and fixed upon him the attention of the 
 whole country. He became, emphatically, the favorite of his State ; 
 and he was now transferred from its Executive chair to a seat upon 
 this floor, to fill a vacancy created by the resignation of his predeces- 
 sor. In 1845, he received a re-election to the Senate, for the term of 
 six years. It may be remarked, as a singular fact, that in all the offi- 
 
25 
 
 ccs he has held, he has never served out the regular term, but bus been 
 transferred, by promotion, to a higher place. 
 
 To you, Mr. President, who knew iiim well, and to the Senators 
 long associated with him, and united by the ties of rcspeet and friend* 
 ship, I need not speak of his honorable career in tins body. 
 
 You will bear witness to the sound judgment and ready Seal which 
 he brought to the discharge of his varied duties — to that honesty of 
 purpose which knows no guile — to that frankness and sincerity inca- 
 pable of concealment — to that firmness of resolution which no ditli- 
 culties could shake nor dangers overcome — and to that purity of life, 
 and conscientious regard to his convictions of right, which distin- 
 guished him as a man and a Christian. 
 
 How happily these qualities were blended in his character, is known 
 to you; how justly they were appreciated by the people of his native 
 State, is seen in the confidence they yielded, and the honors they be- 
 stowed. 
 
 As a friend, he was devoted and sincere; and few there are who 
 have secured the attachment of a wider circle, or bound them by 
 stronger ties of affection. His loss to the public, to his friends, and 
 above all to his deeply afflicted family, what words can express ! I 
 cannot attempt it. 
 
 He has left behind his example, his character, the influence of his 
 actions, and, in his sudden death, the admonition that " public honors 
 and exalted station add no strength to the tenure by which life is held." 
 
 HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 
 
 • Mr. HAMMONS rose and spoke as follows : 
 
 Mr. Speaker: In raising my voice for the first time in this Hall, it 
 devolves upon me to perform the most painful and melancholy duty 
 of my life. 
 
 The Hon. John Fairfield, Senator from Maine, on Friday last, at 
 twelve meridian, was in the enjoyment of good health, with an unusual 
 flow of spirits, surrounded with honors, and possessed of all the en- 
 joyments that earth can aflbrd ; at a quarter before eight on the evening 
 
26 
 
 of the same day, he had bid adieu to time, and his pure and manly 
 spirit had returned to Him who gave it. 
 
 Most of the morning of that day I spent with him in friendly and 
 social converse ; of the evening, in witnessing his poignant sufferings, 
 his struggles with the King of Terrors, and in watching over his life- 
 less remains. 
 
 How sad, how sudden, how awful the change ! — a change which 
 even now I can hardly realize. 
 
 In the meridian of life, in the midst of his career of usefulness, and 
 while in the full vigor of his intellect, he has fallen. 
 
 Governor Fairfield was emphatically a self-made man. By his 
 own industry and exertions, he acquired an education, studied law, and 
 at an early day took rank among the first of his profession. 
 
 His fine talents and affable deportment soon attracted public atten- 
 tion ; and he was called at an early age from the enjoyments of private 
 life and domestic happiness, to the performance of arduous and re- 
 sponsible public duties. 
 
 His public career, though not long, was brilliant. The office of Re- 
 porter of the Decisions of the Supreme Court of Maine, two elections as 
 a Member of this House, four elections as the Chief Executive of his 
 native State, and two elections to the Senate of the United States — all 
 within the short period of twelve years — were the rewards of his 
 worthy and generous aspirations. 
 
 The complicated and arduous duties of all these high and honora- 
 ble stations he discharged with faithfulness and distinguished ability, 
 and to the entire satisfaction of those who had elevated him to power. 
 
 He possessed in an eminent degree all the elements of popularity, 
 and had doubtless a stronger hold upon the affections of the people of 
 Maine than any other man living. His popularity kept pace with his 
 advancement, and, at the moment of his decease, I have not a doubt 
 he possessed more numerous and devoted friends than at any former 
 period of his life. Unshaken firmness, indomitable perseverance, and 
 a sincerity that knew no guile, were the distinguished traits of his 
 character. 
 
 His whole life evinced an unwavering devotion to justice and to the 
 great principles of popular rights, 
 
27 
 
 In his death, Maine has lost one of hor most worthy and noble SOM — 
 a man whom slie delighted to honor; society lias been bereft of one of 
 
 its hest and brightest ornaments; and the Senate of the United Si 
 of one of its ablest, most upright, and most useful members. 
 
 Of the loss to the partner of his bosom, and to the numerous pledf 
 of their affection, it is vain to speak. The blow has fallen upon them 
 with a crushing weight, which no language can express, and which 
 none but those who have been called to drink of the same bitter cup 
 can conceive. 
 
 May He * who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb" give them 
 that support and consolation which no earthly power can bestow. 
 
 I will close this hasty and very imperfect sketch of my late friend's 
 life and character by moving the adoption of the customary resolutions. 
 

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