THURSDAY, JULY 12, 1826.
(For the Phenix Gazette.)
Beloved while living, and revered now dead.
The glory of nations is derived from its citizens. Virtue and talents are the sources of their honors, fame and respectability. During the lives of illustrious men, who have devoted all their services to the public good, their opinions operate powerfully on society, and preserve it in a wholesome temperament. Their examples form a strong check against lawless passion, and tend to bring back the community to the true principles of social order. These illustrious men may be aptly compared to the sun, who animates and cheers the universe with his beams. When they leave this stage of action, to enter into aa more glorious sphere, their departure resembles the descent of the orb of day, which is followed by darkness. Those virtues and genius, which enabled them to found an empire, and restore man to liberty and his lost rights, seem to expire with them. The moral and political truths, of which they are the authors, are apt to lose much of their design, after those great examples have ceased to enforce them in their own practice. There is a moral grandeur in the character of honored patriots. There is something of affection in it, which entwines the heart of the citizen, and attaches it almost to the errors of those great men. The retrospect of virtue struggling in the cause of an oppressed people against their tyrants, is a spectacle which will attract the notice of tyrants themselves. The lesson is so full of wisdom, that, like the hand writing on the wall, it will present itself in bold relief to the disordered countenance of the beholder.—But when the friend of his country contemplates, for a moment, its happiness, its laws, and its strength, with glowing rapture he bends in adoration to the God of the universe, and thanks him for the gifts of such illustrious patriots.
That noble band of brothers, who, fifty years past, put their seals and lives to the perspicuous exposition of our wrongs, and Declaration of our Rights, have almost ceased to exist.—There is abundant cause of sorrow to the American family, arising even on that day which gave us a name amongst the nations of the earth. Two of the brightest stars in the constellation of virtue itself, have been removed from their places, and transferred to holier and happier climes. Half a century ago, those deceased patriots, with hearts full of ardor and courage, and souls allied to Divinity itself, proclaimed to the world truths never before uttered by man, with equal dignity. It was a new epoch in history, which exhibited an assembly of heroes, staking their “lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honors,” in support of truths the most august, and involving the happiness of a considerable portion of the globe. Fetters, and ignominous death, and slavery, surrounded them on every side. The perspective resembled the gloom of the most dreadful tempest of the night. They had nothing to rely on for support but their pledged integrity, and a consciousness inspired by their own superior wisdom and knowledge, that an “hour of virtuous liberty was worth a whole eternity in bondage.” Their lives ever reflected on them the same Godlike principles which had ennobled their characters. Laden with honors and the love and admiration of mankind, their pure spirits quitted their earthly tenements on the birth day of our liberty, which they had created and consecrated. The interval of their departure was short. Those illustrious men winged their flight to brighter skies within a few hours of each other. What a singular coincidence! What an astonishing concurrence of events!
The sun had scarcely attained his zenith, when he beheld the glory of the earth diminished by the death of Virginia’s favorite son; and as he rapidly approximated to his goal, he again beheld the glory of the earth passing away with the immortal spirit of the boast of Massachusetts. Fifty years ago the fates of those benefactors of the human race were mingled together.—They were bound by the same affections, and their hopes were directed to the same end.—Placing their hands on the altar of their country, they sword eternal enmity against tyrants. Regardless of the dungeon, chains and scaffold, they pledged to themselves, and to their country, more inestimable treasure than gold—“their sacred honors.” The pledge was redeemed. The tempest was scattered by the force of talents, virtue and patriotism. They rejoiced to behold a republic springing up in the wilderness, and they lived to see it at once a monument and model to the friends of liberty in both worlds. When they signed the sacred charter of our rights, they anticipated the struggles which they would have to encounter, in wading through “seas of blood and clouds of dust,” to recover their lost liberties. They had staked their lives upon the cast, and no foresight could have assured to them a happy termination of their toils and dangers. Their blood might have flowed under the axe of the executioner, and after the sword was once drawn, they could not confidently rely on a meeting in this world. They not only survived the dreadful conflict, but lived half a century, blessings to their country and ornaments to human nature: ornaments of the sublimest degree they were. In the establishment of civil and religious liberty, they enlightened a world, bound by the chains of despotism which they burst asunder. They have lived honored and respected, and in fullness of years, like the aged oaks of the forest, they have fallen and descended to the valley, with honors, glory and immortality thickened upon them.
The angel of death in his dispensations, in coursing around the universe, has snatched from our country its most beloved citizens. The period of one day was assigned to him for the execution of his purpose. As a consummation of human glory, and an evidence of human dependence, he selected the day of our national rejoicing. Amidst the roar of cannon, the bursts of patriotism, and the splendor of eloquence, he reaches Monticello: he behold the venerable patriot reposing on a bed of sickness: he hears him breathing a prayer of gratitude, that he had again seen the day of the salvation of his country: he inspects his heart, and finds him ready to enter into the presence of his God. His glory is perfected—his days are numbered—his immortal spirit returns to the Deity, who gave it. The bow of the angel is again bent.—Another victim is demanded before the setting of the sun of that proud day. The inflexible messenger rapidly speeds his way to Quincy, the home of the honored patriarch, borne down with the infirmities of age, though anticipating the sight of a few more suns.—‚Ninety one years had rolled over the head of the sage, when the messenger announced to him the reason of his coming. He told him, that his departure was at hand—that there was reserved for him a “far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” That his country was still in the enjoyment of that liberty, which he had assisted in acquiring, and that the recollection of his memory and services would prove its safeguard. The angel also informed him, that his Great Co-patriot was now on his journey to the mansions of everlasting tranquility; that he had bid a final adieu to this world of tribulation, and that they would be soon re-united by a bond of unspeakable friendship in the company of Washington, Franklin, Hancock, and the rest of that glorious band of divine souls. The Patriarch received the news of the death of his copatriot with profound grief. He recalled to himself all the virtues and talents which had so eminently distinguished him. In the morning his spirits had been refreshed by hearing read to him that Declaration of Independence, which he, himself, half a century ago, had advocated with the eloquence of an archangel. He humbly thanked his God that he had permitted him to live to that day—Then with a serene countenance, and his eyes directed towards Heaven, he gave a sign to the angel, that he was also ready to depart. Wrapt in a celestial vision, the angel carries him in his bosom to meet his Father and his God.
It is the duty of every good citizen, to hold in constant remembrance the images of those illustrious men. Though dead, they yet speak by their examples to us. Fifty years ago the proudest effort of human greatness was unfolded to the rights of mankind. The Declaration of Independence was, in itself, our sword and our shield. Through its influence patriotism was kept alive, and the arms of our country triumphed, in consequence of that Declaration, bringing to their aid, the pledge of the “lives, fortunes and sacred honor” of our revered and renowned ancestors. The return, which they require of us, for their services and sacrifices is a heart replete with love of country, and that we will endeavor, by all means in our power, to render our beloved constitution and confederacy durable as time. Let us all swear eternal fidelity to our country and that we will keep sacred in our hearts, the pure flame of patriotism, which will burn brighter and brighter, as often as we recall to our recollections, the images of the best, the brightest, and wisest of mankind.
FENELON.