embarrass-Whose knowledge appeared intuitive; and who by a single glance, and with as much facility as the eye of the eagle passes over the landscape, surveyed the whole field of controversy-saw in what way truth might be most successfully defended, and how error must be approached. And who, without ever stopping, ever hesitating, by a rapid and manly march, led the listening judge and the fascinated juror, step by step, through a delightsome. region, brightening as he advanced, till his argument rose to demonstration, 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 justice, was virtue's consolation. At whose approach oppressed humanity 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 principles of justice violatedit was on these occasions that he exerted 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 scru tiny of inquisition. Whose manly virtue never shaped itself to circumstances. Who always great, always himself, stood amidst the varying tides of party, firm, 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 transparent, 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, some dark shades.. On these let the tear that pities human weakness fall on these let the vail which covers human frailty 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 period of discussion. I see him resisting the threatened interview. 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, which may need his counsels to guide and his arm to defend, utters her veto. The partner of his youth, already covered with weeds, and whose tears flow down into her bosom, intercedes! His babes, stretching out their little hands and pointing to a weeping mother, with lisping eloquence, but eloquence which reaches a parent's heart, cry out" Stay-stay-dear father 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 harbinger of death, points to the yawning tomb and forewarns a hesitating father 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 proposition, and to see him spurn from his presence the presumptuous bearer of it. But I wait in vain. It was a momeut in which his 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 penitent, I forgive him. But there are those whom I cannot forgive. I mean not his antagonist. Over whose erring steps, if there be tears in heaven, a pious mother looks down and weeps, If he be capable of feeling, he suffers already all that humanity can suffer. Suffers, and wherever he may fly will suffer, with the poignant recollection, of having taken the life of one who was too magnanimous in return to attempt his own. Had he have known this, it must have paralyzed his arm while it pointed, at so incorruptible a bosom, the instrument of death. Dres he know this now, his heart, if it be not adamant, must soften-if it be not ice, it must 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 suppliants, 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 forborne 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 them. I cannot forgive that judge upon the bench, or that governor 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, I enjoy another opportunity; and would to GoD, I might be permitted to approach for once the late scene of death. Would to GOD, I could there assemble on the one side, the disconsolate mother 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 agonies of bereaved fondness, to listen to the widow's heartfelt groans; to mark the orphan's sighs and tears-- |