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Kf>t Jlatton'0 Q^titi:
A FUNERAL ADDRESS,
BEFORE THE CITIZENS OF BURLINGTON,
AT THE REQUEST OF THE COMMON COUNCIL,
ON TUESDAY, 13 APRIL, I84I;
ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH
OF
WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON,
LATE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES :
BY
THE RT. REV. GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE, DD., LL.D.,
DISnOP OF NEW JBKSET.
33urUnjitou :
J. L. POWELL, PRINTER
MOCCC XI.I.
u'
i "
"\ 9
, 3](«3
O God, whose days are without end, and
whose meicies cannot be numbered ; make
us, we beseech thee, deeply sensible of the
shortness and uncertainty of human life ;
and let thy Holy Spirit lead us through
this vale of misery, in holiness and righte-
ousness, all the days of our lives : That,
when we shall have served thee in our
generation, we may be gathered unto our
fathers, having the testimony of a good
conscience ; in the communion of the
Catholic Church ; in the confidence of
a certain faith; in the comfort of a rea-
sonable, religious, and holy hope ; in fa-
vour with thee our God, and in perfect
charity with the world: All which we ask
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen,
In Exchang-e
Peabody Inst, of BaUo.
June 14 1927
n
TESTIMONY OF RESPECT.
RESOLUTIONS.
The following are the procccJings of the Common Council of the City of
Burlington, held at the City Hall, on the 9th instant, on receiving intelligence
of the death of the President of the United States, General William Henrt
Hahuison.
Whereas, it has pleased the Supremo Arbiter of the destinies of nations, by
an inscrutable dispensation of His unerring wisdom, to remove from his oflicial
duties, and from life, the Chief Magistrate of the United States ; and Whereas,
the high and responsible station which he occupied, (independent of his vener-
able age and long and distinguished services,) renders this event a national be-
reavement, which calls for a manifestation of feeling, in every section of our
country, Therefore,
1. Resolved, That in this alllicting dispensation, it is our duty, as Christians,
to bow in resignation to the Divine decree, and to acknowledge, with gratitude
and adoration, the many blessings mercifully extended to us by the same Hand
that has dealt the blow which now we mourn.
2. liesolved, That tiiis event calls upon the people as members of the great
republican family, laying all distinctions aside, to entertain and to evince deep
feelings of respectful sorrow.
3. Resolved, That, as representatives of the citizens of Burlington, we
sincerely sympathise with the afflicted family of our late venerable President,
and that we foci ourselves partakers in their bereavement.
4. Resolved, That a person be appointed by this Board, to deliver before the
inhabitants of Burlington, an appropriate Address, upon this solemn and mourn-
ful occasion. And that Messrs. Allen, Wetherill, and Burns, in connection
with the Mayor, be a Committee to carry the last resolution into cflect.
It was, on motion. Resolved, that the Committee last appointed be requested
to invite Bishop Doane to deliver the Address, contemplated by the 4th Reso--
lution.
CORRESPONDENCE.
Burlington, Jpril 10, 1841.
Rt. Rev. G, W. Doase, D.D., LL.D.
Dear Sir — At a special meeting of tho Council of the City of Burling-
ton, convened at the Town Hall, on the 9th inst., for the purpose of expressing
their sentiments, and sympathizing with their fellow citizens in the national
calamity which has befallen our country, by the sudden and unexpected death
of its Chief Magistrate, Gen. William Hknrx Harrison, the undersigned were
appointed a Committee to confer with you on the subject, and to invite you to
deliver an Address suitable to the occasion, and in commemoration of the vir-
tues and character of one who has died " full of years and full of honors," at
such time and place as may best suit your convenience.
We have the honor to be,
Very respectfully.
Your obedient servants,
A. W. BcRurs,
Wm. R. Allen,
Samuel W. Earl,
Samuel R. Wethkrill.
Riverside, Saturday morning, April 10, 1841.
Gentlemen — I have this moment received your very courteous note, request-
ing me, in behalf of the Council of the City of Burlington, to deliver an Ad-
dress adapted to the solemn occasion, when the nation mourns the loss of its
Chief Magistrate, and commemorative of his great virtues and distinguished
services. Allow me to assure you of my deep and lively sympathy with my
fellow citizens in this severe' bereavement; and of my fervent prayer, that He
who "doeth all things well," will make this national calamity a profitable lesson
to us, as a people. Although my appointments are out, for a Visitation of a
portion of my Diocese, I deem the occasion proper to recal them, for one day,
that I may discharge the service to which the Council have been pleased to de-
signate me. I accept the invitation ; and propose the afternoon of Tuesday
next, at 5 o'clock, for the time: leaving the place to be decided by the Council.
It affords me sincere pleasure to serve at all times, and in any way, the com-
munity with whom I live ; as it does to subscribe myself. Gentlemen, your
faithful friend and servant,
G. W. DOANE.
Messrs. Burns, Allen, Earl and Wetherill,
Committee of the Council.
ADDRESS.
It is a dark December day. A deep snow clothes
the ground. A sharp and cutting- sleet drives with
the wind. Against the blinding storm, and through
the deepening drifts, a youthful soldier, with his
knapsack on his back, pursues his steadfast way. A
stripling of nineteen, of slender frame, and feeble
health, he is an Ensign in the army of America,
with Washington's commission; and he marches,
with his small detachment, on his first service. It
was a patriot and a Christian duty. There are those
before me who remember well, what, in my young
days, was yet a nursery-word, at which the mother
pressed her infant to her bosom, and children gathered
closer to the fire — St. Clair's defeat. It was to
that battle-field, to inter the bones of its six hundred
slain, that our young Ensign hastened with his troop.
And though it was a patriot and a Christian duty,
how much more sternly than the fiercest onset of the
heady fight, must that still forest field, the lowering
sky, the howling wind, those gallant men butchered
by savage hands, and all the recollections and fore-
bodings of that most disastrous day, have tried the
spirit of a youthful soldier, on his first campaign!
It was a chill November night, when a small army
of Americans encamped themselves upon a point of
land, between the Wabash and a tributary stream.
They were the gentlemen and yeomen of the coun-
try, who had enrolled themselves, under the territo-
rial Governor, to defend their homes acrainst the in-
roads of the hostile Indian tribes, and to chastise their
insolence. A long and tedious march, through a
most dreary wilderness, brings them at last to where
their wily foes await them ; and, on their proposition
for a conference and treaty, hostilities are intermitted
for a day. Slowly and cheerlessly the night wears
off, within that guarded camp, with clouds and rain.
But weary men will sleep, whatever may betide them ;
and now, for hours, no sound has stirred the stillness
of the scene, save the lone sentry's guarded step.
But what is that, which, through "the misty moon-
beams' struggling light," is seen, not heard, as it
glides through the prairie grass ? K it a snake that
winds his stealthy way ? No ; but a subtler Indian :
and in one instant he is dead ! Another ; and the
savage yell starts every sleeper from his cold, damp
couch, and death begins his w^ork. And was this
sleeping camp deceived, surprised, betrayed? Was
their Commander faithless to his trust? No; every
man had slept wdiere he must fight, his clothes on,
and his gun loaded. And he, while yet the night
was young, sat by his tent^fire, till the hour should
come to rouse his weary comrades. In a moment,
he was mounted. Where the fight was hottest, there
was he. A ball, with no commission for his life, flies
through his hair. In vain his officers remonstrate
with him for his fearless hazard of himself He
thinks of brave St. Clair, and of the gallant victims
of that fatal iield. lie thinks of wasted towns, and
blazing homes, and mothers slaughtered with their
infants. And the morning dawns not till the victory
is won !
Along the banks of the Ohio, spreads a smiling
farm. A plain and modest mansion rises from a
sloping lawn. Its owner, having filled, with credit
to himself, and honour to his country, almost every
station but the first — fought its battles, governed its
territories, served it in both houses of Congress, and
represented it abroad — wears out, in frugal industry,
his green old age, a plain Ohio farmer : his house,
the very home of hospitality; his name, the refuge
and the solace of the poor, the stranger and the or-
phan ; his style, the noblest that is known to nature's
heraldry, a patriot, and a patriarch !
It is a gusty day in March. Before the morning
dawns, the Federal city is alive with men. It seems
now full to overflowing; and yet every hour brings
hundreds, thousands more. A cavalcade is formed.
Bells ring, and cannons roar. Fair women, and
brave men, throng every window of that noble Ave-
nue. Not a State of the whole twenty six that is
not represented in that long drawn line. It is the
nation's Jubilee. All classes, all conditions, both
sexes, every age, partake the general joy. A grave,
plain man, arrayed in modest black, that rides, un-
covered, on the steed, more conscious than himself
of the occasion, is the magnet that attracts all eyes,
and touches every heart. He reaches the Capitol.
He ascends the steps. He stands, majestic in his
meekness and simplicity, before the immeasurable
8
multitude, who have brought up with them the hom-
age of the nation. The highest officer of Justice ad-
ministers to him the most magnificent oath that ever
rises up to heaven. And the youthful ensign, the
gallant general, the laborious farmer, is President
OF THE United States.
*' One little month" has passed. It is a fitful April
day. Again, the Federal city is astir. Cannons are
heard : but these are minute guns. The bells peal
out: but 'tis the funeral knell. The streets are
thronged : but every face is sad, and every voice is
still. Once more, a long procession passes down that
noble Avenue : but yew and cypress take the place
of nodding plumes, and muffled drums beat time to
aching hearts. Again, that grave, plain man is there :
no more erect and tall, the pillar of the State ; but
in his grave clothes, stretehed upon the funeral Car.
He enters not the gate, as when we last beheld him,
to that glorious Capitol ; but turns aside, to the still
spot, where sleep the honoured dead : and "earth to
earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," concludes the
story and the scene. Never had man a funeral so
sublime. Never, for Chieftain fallen, did a whole
nation so pour out its heart. Was it not beautiful —
and just as it was beautiful — that he, who, on that
sleety day, began his public life, with pious rites for
St. Clair's butchered host, should find himself such
sepulchre ?
Fellow citizens, is it not so that " truth is strange,
stranger than fiction?" Can we yet realize that
these things are ? Does it not seem like some wild
night-mare dream ? Or, rather, like some deep, por-
9
tentous plot of the okl Grecian drama, with range as
wide, with themes as high, with incidents as various,
with interest as thrilHng; the same vicissitudes of
fortune, the same procrastinated hopes, the same splen-
did attainment of the loftiest aim, and then, in one
more moment, the same catastrophe and cruel crush
of all? But surprise, amaze, and overwhelm us, as
it may, it still is sadly so. The brave soldier, the
wise statesman, the honest man, the patriot Presi-
dent, is taken from us, ere we yet had felt that he
was ours : and we are met, to interchange our sym-
pathies ; and to comfort one another ; and to draw
from his life, and character, and services, and, chiefly,
from this most striking incident of modern times,
such lessons, both of patriotism and piety, as may
serve to make us, if God bless them to our use, both
better citizens and better men.
The promise of his life, so far as parentage and
education were concerned, could scarcely have been
better. His father, Benjamin Harrison, was among
the immortal signers of the Declaration of American
Independence, and a man distinguished among those
distinguished men. In 1764, he had been one of
the remonstrants against the odious Stamp Act. He
was a member of the first Continental Cong^ress,
which met in 1774. He w^as one of the Committee
to place the country in a posture of defence ; one of
the Committee to devise a plan for the support of the
army; Chairman of the Committee whose agency
secured the services of La Fayette and his compan-
ions ; and, afterwards, a member of the Board of War.
And, on the 10th of June, and 4th of July, 1776, he
2
10
was among the foremost in the consummation of that
glorious deed, which made, of thirteen British Pro^
vinces, as many free and independent States ; and
laid, in this new world, the broad foundations of an
empire, which will dishonour and betray its founders,
and disappoint its destiny, if it be not the greatest,
the most happy, and the most virtuous in the world.
It was of such blood — show me the blood, and for
the most part, I will tell you of the man ! — and in
such stirring times, that Williari Henry Harrison
was born, at Berkley, on the James River, not far
from Richmond, in Virginia, on the 9th day of Feb-
ruary, 1773/ His birth was thus in the heroic age
of the Republic ; and the stern virtues, simple man-
ners, and self-denying habits of "the times that
tried mens' souls" moulded him, even from the
cradle, for a patriot and hero. His father dying in
his eighteenth year, while he was yet at Hampden
Sidney College, the care of his education devolved
upon his guardian, Robert Morris, the great Finan-
cier of the Revolution : and, with his permission, he
' General Harrison was not less happy in hia bringing up than in his blood.
After all, the mother has the making of the man. I am happy in being in-
debted to my esteemed neighbour and good friend, the Rev. Cortlandt Van
Rensselaer, for this notice of the mother of the President. It is taken from hit
sermon, in the city of Washington, on the Sunday after his decease ; as pub-
lished in " the New World." — " He was 'trained up in the way he should go'
by the example and instructions of maternal love. His mother (of the Bassett
family,) wes a woman of piety and prayer. During the General's last visit to
Virginia, he occupied his mother's apartments — the one in which he was born
— and he took great interest in pointing out the closet to which she retired for
private devotion, and the corner of the room where she sat by the table to read
her Bible; and where she taught him on his knees to pray, ' Our Father which
art in heaven !' "
u
repaired to Philadelphia, and commenced the study
of medicine, under the care of Dr. Benjamin Rush;
like Morris, a member of the great Congress of 1776,
and signer of the Declaration of Independence. Thus
was he brought up at Gamaliel's feet; and with such
a training to bring out such blood, what wonder if
we find him, at nineteen, his books forsaken for the
sword, an ensign in the army, and engaged with
Wayne, in that most desperate and most patriotic
service, the rescue of the frontier states from the in-
cursions of the Western Indians ! From his first
service of piety and patriotism, on St. Clair's fatal
field, his path was ever that of duty and of honour.
The next year, he was made Lieutenant, and soon
after Aid to that incarnate spirit of indomitable
bravery, Anthony Wayne ; receiving more than once
his never to be questioned attestation of devotion, skill,
and gallantry. In 1775, at twenty-two, he was a
Captain in command of an important frontier station,
on the spot where now the city of Cincinnati stands ;
and Washington himself appointed him, at twenty-
four, the Secretary of the North Western Territory,
and ex officio its Lieutenant Governor. From that
Territory he became, at barely twenty-five, its first
Representative in Congress ; and, though the young-
est, one of the most effective members of that body ;
and, among other most important measures, carried
through a bill by which the Public Lands were made
accessible to purchasers of moderate means, the pro-
gress of improvement and of comfort accelerated in-
finitely, millions paid into the public treasury, and
homes created for unnumbered millions, in the ages
12
yet to come, of happy Christian freemen. In 1801,
at twenty-nine, he was appointed Territorial Go-
vernor of Indiana, and sole Commissioner for treaties
with the Indians, with powers unlimited ; and re-ap-
pointed, at the people's instance, thirteen times. On
the 6th of November, 1811, as Governor of Indiana,
and Commander-in-chief, he gained the iniportant
victory over the Indians, at Tippecanoe ; a name, im-
mortal now, as Marathon, or Monmouth, or New
Orleans. In 1812, he was appointed, by President
Madison, Commander-in-chief of the North Western
army ; encountering dangers, enduring hardships,
and performing services which won for him from
every quarter confidence and praise. In April, of
the following year, he conducted the successful de-
fence of Fort Meigs, against the British troops and
Indians ; and terminated it by a sortie, which, for its
boldness of conception, and rapidity and energy of
execution, ranks among the most distinguished acts
of modern warfare. And, in October, he drove the
enemy completely from the field in the decisive vic-
tory of the River Thames — "avictory," said Langdon
Cheeves, Speaker of the House of Representatives,
" such as w^ould have secured to a Roman General,
in the best days of the Republic, the honours of a
triumph, and put an end to the war in Upper Cana-
da." "The result," said President Madison, "is
signally honourable to Major General Harrison, by
whose military talents it was performed." "The bless-
ings of thousands of women and children," says Gov-
ernor Snyder of Pennsylvania, " rescued from the
scalping knife of the ruthless savage of the wilder-
I''
5
ness, rest on Harrison and his gallant army." His
public life from this time was in civil stations. In
1814 and 1815, he discharged most honourable duties,
as a Commissioner of Indian treaties. In 1816, he
went to Congress, where he was a prominent and
influential member. In 1819, he was elected to
the Senate of Ohio, where he served for several
years. In 1824, he took his seat in the Senate of
the United States, and succeeded General Jackson,
as Chairman of the Committee on Military Affairs ;
and from that station he was sent, in 1826, as Minis-
ter Plenipotentiary to the Republic of Colombia.
Twelve years, from his recal, he spent in dignified
retirement at North Bend, from which the people's
will summoned him, by the electoral vote of nine-
teen states, to the Chief Magistracy of the Republic,
to be the first of sixteen millions of free men : a sta-
tion from which the present life permits of no pro-
motion; and from which, therefore, by an euthana-
sia, more poetical than ever poet dreamed of, while
yet the flush of triumph was upon his cheek, he was
removed, to wait, in the serene asylum of the grave,
the coming and the kingdom of his Lord.
I have felt that there was no need to dwell upon
the history of President Harrison. His life, with all
its incidents and issues, is familiar to your ears as
"household words." Never, I believe, was any man
so thoroughly well known to any people. From the
year 1791, when he first entered the army, until the
year 1829, when he came home from the Republic
of Colombia, his life was wholly in the public ser-
vice. And from 1835, to the present time, the eye
14
of the whole nation has been continually and intense-
ly fixed upon him. He has been written of, spoken
of and talked of; and, what makes more for thorough-
ness of scrutiny, he has been written against, spoken
against, and talked against, through all that time. If
ever the charge of being deficient in enthusiasm
rested on us, as a nation, the year last past has
wiped it off. There is no echo in this land that has
not answered to the name of Harrison. He has
been chanted in songs, and painted on banners, and
engraven on medals, and woven into ribbons, and en-
amelled in vases. Not a deed of his that has not
been discussed in Congress, and in the Legislature
of every State, and at mass meetings from Maine to
Georgia, and in the primary assemblies in every
town. All his battles have been fought and fought
again. The place where one of them occurred has
been adopted as the name for gatherings in every city
and in every village ; and supplied a watchword that
has gone abroad on every breeze. The place of his
residence, the materials of his house, the least im-
portant of his daily habits, were taken up as counter-
signs, and set to music, and immortalized in song.
It may be said, in short, without a figure, that his
private life was as public as the sun. That, under
such circumstances, and with such a trial, he should
be chosen, by so large a vote, to the first office in the
nation, is praise beyond all eulogy. It releases from
all necessity, and it leaves but little opportunity, on
an occasion such as this, to speak with much detail
either of his life or character. A few of its more ob-
vious traits, however, shall be noticed now ; and this
15
will bring- us to the lessons which this striking pro-
vidence seems meant to teach us.
It never has been claimed for General Harrison
that he was a man of brilliant parts. Neither was
General Washington. Such men are showy, taking,
often dangerous, seldom useful. Their splendour is
the excess of some one quality; most generally, at the
expense of others, quite as valuable. They give
more light than heat; and are admired more than re-
lied on. True greatness is the equipoise of parts.
Shakspeare, the great philosopher of our humanity,
has touched this truth with his own matchless skill.
" the elements
So mix'd in him, that nature might stand up.
And say to all the world. This was a man!"
So it was, beyond all men of ancient or of modern
times, with General Washington. And it was this
well mixing of the elements that constituted General
Harrison's greatness. He was, emphatically, a well
BALANCED MAN. It was this which bore him up in
all his different and weighty trusts, through an half
century of public service— the Ensign of 19, the Pre-
sident of 68 — and won for him his final triumph, and
made him equal to that greatest of his trials, his suc-
cess. It was this that carried him not only through
the most unsparing canvassing that ever man en-
dured ; but all the while developed new energies of
character, and inspired new claims to confidence.
It was by this, that even the nick-name that was
every where applied to him, on banners and in songs,
and would have cheapened in the public estimation
any other man, was dignified by its connexion with
16
his character, and became a title of affectionate re-
spect. It is a superficial explanation of his unlooked-
for and unparalleled success, to say, that "the hur-
rah" elected him. The greatest difficulty was not
to catch, but to sustain, the popular gale. A craft
that carried too much sail would have run under in
it. Well built, well ballasted, well trimmed, it bore
him straight to port.
To specify a few of the good elements that were
" so mixed in him." He was a man of dear, sound
judgment. This is every where apparent in his
course of life. Hence, his selection, while so young,
to such high trusts, by men so keen in their analysis
of character ; by Washington, by Jefferson, by Ma-
dison, by Quincy Adams. It is apparent in his out-
line of the principles by which a just administration
of the Executive department should be governed, in
his celebrated letter, in 1838, to Mr. Denny. And it
was shewn, to take one great example, in the place of
all that might be pointed out, in his selection of a
Cabinet, at such a time, under such circumstances,
of which, both as a whole, and as to its individual
members, the nation has expressed unanimous, un-
qualified approval.
He had improved the native strength and sound-
ness of his mind by careful study and reflection.
"He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one." More
practice with the sword and plough than with the
pen exposed him, doubtless, to the criticism of using
the materials, rather than the results, of scholarship.
But, while there were those who charged the Inaugu-
ral with being pedantic, who, for their lives, could not
17
have told whether this ancient name, or that, on which
he dwelt, with such high zest, were from the Greek
or Roman history; there was this charm about his
pedantry, that it proved clearly that the piece was
his.
He was an eminently practical man. It must have
been so; or he never would have exercised so well
and wisely the office of Territorial Governor, so com-
plicated and so arduous in its responsibilities, as to
be re-appointed to it so often, and so long. That he
was so, the great measures prove which he espoused
and carried through, in his Congressional career.
That he was so, his announcement of the principles
of his administration clearly showed. And even more
so, the alacrity with which, from his twelve years'
retirement, at North Bend, he stepped at once, as if
promoted from the Cabinet, into the duties of the
Presidential office.
He was a man of great directness. He had no
knowledge of stratagem and subterfuge. He went
by the air-line to the object which he sought; and
verified the saying of the Sultan Akbar, that "he
never heard of any man being lost in a straight road."
This was the secret of his great success in dealing
with the Indians. He made not less than thirteen
treaties with them : all securing their just rights,
and all promoting the advantage of the government.
A common view of things would seek to match the
savage subtlety with cultivated cunning. There is
no greater error. The overmatch for craft is honest,
open dealing, universally. Your wily politician stands
no chance with such a man as General Harrison. He
3
18
is thrown off the track at once. It is what the Scrip
ture saith, " He taketh the wise in their own crafti-
ness."
He was an honest man. What mines of wealth were
opened to him, in his long connexion with the pub-
lic lands, and in his dealings with the Indians, those
hapless victims of the cupidity of agents ! And yet,
he Uved poor, and he died poor. He held his offices
for service, not for spoils.
He was a zealous ma?i. In this way, he made up
for shining talents. What he undertook, he did. He
gave himself to do it. He spared no time, no pains.
This you see in all his course. Especially, in the
prosecution of the leading measures, which he imder-
took in Congress; the Land bill, the Militia system,
the Revolutionary pensions, the free governments
of South America. This he showed, in his short
month, in his devotion to the Presidential duties.
He was a kifid and generous man. His house was
filled with widows and with orphans. He had a seat
by his cheerful hearth, a plate at his simple board,
for every passer-by that needed fire or food. He
was the liberal patron of all public enterprises, for
the promotion of learning and religion: and the
habit of his private hospitality was well expressed,
in the long latch-string, that hung down, in every
model, and in every picture, from his cabin door ; and
never was pulled in. This was the secret of his
universal popularity. The kindness, that was glow-
ing in his heart, beamed from his countenance. He
was felt to be, because in truth he was, the friend of
all. And, in his few short weeks at Washington, he
19
had conciliated, by the frankness of his manners, his
modesty, simplicity, and friendliness, the aifectionate
respect of all of every class in the community.
In one word, and to sum up all, he was a christian
PATRIOT. He entered not upon his high and holy
trust for God and man, without making this explicit
declaration of his faith in Jesus Christ : " I deem the
present occasion sufficiently important and solemn to
justify me in expressing to my fellow citizens, a pro-
found reverence for the Christian Religion, and a tho-
rough conviction, that sound morals, religious liberty,
and a just sense of religious responsibility, are essen-
tially connected with all true and lasting happiness;
and to that good Being, who has blessed us by the
gifts of civil and religious freedom ; who watched
over and prospered the labors of our Fathers ; and
has hitherto preserved to us institutions far exceed-
ing in excellence those of any other people, let us
unite, in fervently commending every interest of our
beloved country in all future time." He bought
that day — an act of beautiful and simple piety! —
a Bible and a Prayer Book; as if he would begin
anew, in his new station, the sacred offices by
which his life had been consoled and consecrated.
He daily read, not without prayer, the holy word of
God. He constantly repaired, for public worship, to
the house of prayer. He prostrated himself, on bend-
ed knee, in the assembly of the faithful. He had
resolved,' even on the next Lord's day that followed
' This is stated by his Pastor, the Rev, William Hawley, Rector of St.
John's Church, Washington city, who was with him through his sickness, and
closed his eyes.
20
the commencement of that fatal sickness, to present
himself, his soul and body, a living sacrifice, before
the altar of his crucified Redeemer. And with those
latest words — delirious, if you will, but proving still
the ruling passion strong in death—-" Sir, I wish
YOU TO UNDERSTAND THE TRUE PRINCIPLES OF THE
Government: I wish them carried out: I ask
NOTHING more" — words, as well suited to his illus-
trious successor, as they were worthy of himself — he
died, as he had lived, a Christian and a Patriot.
And he is dead ! He, that so lately was in every
mouth, the theme of praise or blame, has gone be-
yond the reach of both ! He, for whose elevation to
the Presidential chair, all business was suspended,
all interests seemed tame, the very stream of life
stood still, or rolled with torrent fulness in his wake,
to sit there, but one little month ! He, whose acces-
sion to the post of highest honour in the nation's gift
was hailed, as the commencement of a new and
brighter age — business to be revived, and confidence
restored, and peace and plenty and prosperity in-
creased and multiplied ; he, to whom every eye
was turned, and on whose look such thousands hung,
now lies, alone and still, the tenant of a cold and nar-
row tomb ! Oh ! what a lesson, if men would but learn,
of the uncertainty of all terrestrial things ! Oh ! what
a lesson, if men would but learn, of the utter worth-
lessness of human calculations! Oh! what a lesson,
if men would but learn, that whatever men desire,
design, or do, ''the Lord God omnipotent reigneth!"
Fellow citizens, is it not true that we have needed
such a lesson? Has not our day of unexampled sun-
•^1
'N^ J.
shine made us forgetful that a cloud could lower, or
that a storm could break? Instead of leading us to
penitence, as the Apostle tells us that it should, has
not the heavenly "'oodness been abused to rank
licentiousness, impenitence and unbelief? Were we
not fast becoming a worldly, sensual, godless na-
tion? I design not now to enumerate or to re-
prove the mass of national or of individual vices. I
confine myself to but one aspect. I ask your atten-
tion to but one single point. AVill you not all admit,
that the great strife, which agitated the whole nation,
like a stormy sea, the ground-swell not yet over,
was entered into, and conducted, and the issue wel-
comed, in forgetfulness of God ; in utter and mistaken
confidence in human wisdom, human power, and
human worth ? As the great contest drew towards
its crisis, did not all ears, all eyes, all hearts intensely
fix themselves on the report, as it was borne from
state to state ; as if the election of this candidate, or
that, involved all fears, all hopes, all destinies ; and
God were not in heaven? But, "be the people never
so unquiet," God is there. " The shields of the
earth belong to Him." And, " cursed be the man that
maketh flesh his arm," however long his justice may
delay the sentence, will be asserted, in terrific ven-
geance, upon every nation, and upon every individual.
It becomes us, then, to bow% in all humility, before
the astounding stroke. To read, in that brief sway
of the most noble empire that is lighted by the sun,
the feebleness of human power ; in this unlocked for
disappointment of the wisest plans, the fairest pros-
pects, and the loftiest hopes, the blindness of all hu-
•22
man wisdom ; in the rude shock, which makes the
land to tremble, and all faces gather blackness, the
resistless sovereignty of God. Forever blessed be
his name, that, as his wrath is slow, and destruction
his "strange work," so he is quick, in mercy, and un-
bounded in his tenderness, to them that turn to him
with tears and prayers! "At what instant I shall
speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom,
to pluck up and to pull down, and to destroy it, if that
nation against whom I pronounced, turn from their
evil, I will repent of the evil that I thought to do
unto them." May it be, my fellow citizens, that we,
roused by this voice of warning, may so turn from our
evil ways, that God, propitiated to us by the inter-
cession of his Son, may turn to us again, and bless us
as a nation! Such as the individuals are, such the
community must be. The work is in our individual
hands. The cure is in our individual hearts. The
blessing is for us, our children, and our children's
children — peace, plenty and prosperity, the nation's
heritage, as it has been so long ; and peace with God,
and everlasting life, assured to all, through Christ,
who take the Lord to be their God.
The present sad solemnity should lead us to re-
view the mercies which, as a nation, have been
showered upon us ; and to gather, even from its most
mournful aspects, wholesome lessons for the future.
There have been completed thirteen Presidential
terms; nine times the people's voice has summoned
one of their own number to the loftiest station which
a freeman can be called to fill ; and never before has
the divine decree set aside their suffras^es. When
23
we consider, that maturity of age, ripeness of wisdom,
hoarded treasures of experience, are among the most
immediate qualifications for the ofiice, and that he
who fills it bears a weight of duty and responsibility
as great as man can bear, this must be owned a mer-
ciful and gracious Providence. Had we not come
almost to lose the thought of the Chief Magistrate's
mortality? Was there not danger, lest we quite ne-
glect the best employment of that wise provision
which the Constitution makes for this contingency?
Was the consideration that he might be called to ex-
ercise the first, a lead in o- thouoht in our selection of
the citizen to hold the second, ofiice in our govern-
ment ? Was it not needful that the nation should be
roused to its responsibilities ? Was it not time that
we were taught, by such a lesson as would speak,
with trumpet tongue, to every heart, the rashness of
our confidence, our carelessness of what the future
might bring forth ? And what a trumpet voice it is !
A month, between the pinnacle of human fame and
the cold grave ! A month, between the high flood-
tide of power and influence, with men, not only, but
with nations, and the dust of death ! Fellow citizens,
is not the touching sentiment of Edmund Burke
forced home upon our hearts, "What shadows we
are; and what shadows we pursue!"
Short as the period was of General Harrison's ad-
ministration, it has sufficed for useful lessons, and
for signal benefits. Is it not a beautiful and most
impressive lesson, and full of hope — let us not yield
to the temptation, to say, pride — for our republican
institutions, to see a private citizen, a simple farmer,
24
a man without an hour of service in the Cabinet,
called by a nation's voice, from the secluded shades
of rural life, to take his place among the proudest
princes of the earth : and to see him take it, with an
assurance to our hearts of skill, and self-possession,
and effective energy, which gives us perfect confi-
dence that all our interests are safe ; no shadow of a
doubt, that our true honour, as a nation, is secure ;
no moment's apprehension, that our glorious Consti-
tution will be guarded, even to a letter ! And, when
one little month has laid the nation's choice in the
still grave, — without a shock, without a struggle,
without one tremulous vibration of the great ma-
chine, — to see its destinies transferred to other hands!
A plain Virginia citizen, called, at an instant, from
his fields, or from his books; the helm of government
assumed as firmly, yet as modestly and quietly, as if
he had but entered, at his father's death, upon the
old homestead farm ; and the great ship, in which
our destinies are all embarked, ploughing her gallant
way, as proudly, and as peacefully, beneath that glo-
rious banner of the stars and stripes, as if no cloud
of change had passed across the sky! Fellow citi-
zens, this is a new and searching trial of our institu-
tions : provided for, indeed, by the deep wisdom of
our fathers, but never called in action until now. To
my mind, the experiment is full of hope and promise.
It appeals to every generous sentiment. It chal-
lenges our utmost confidence, as citizens and men.
Let it not be our fault, if this unheard of crisis in
our government does not approve us, before all na-
tions, what we claim to be, a people who are sove-
25
reigns! Let all our efforts be exerted, let all our
prayers be offered, that the nation's second choice
may fill the measure of our highest expectation from
their first!
There is one benefit from General Harrison's ad-
ministration, of which no doubtfulness is possible;
his clear, distinct, and manly determination to serve,
under no possible circumstances, a second term. Let
it be, that the Constitution does not forbid it. Let it
be, that precedents in our past history have run the
other way. Still, the temptation — let us honestly
confess it! — is too great for mortal man; and if the
illustrious authority of Harrison, now consecrated to
us by the touch of death, shall be adopted, his brief
possession of the power of the Executive may be
fruitful of blessings, w^hich the faithful exercise of
its full period had perhaps failed to bring us.
Fellow citizens, there is one lesson taught us by
this mournful dispensation, of inestimable value; the
lesson, that, as citizens of the United States, we all
AEE ONE. We have too much forgotten it. The strife
of conflicting parties has gone too far. We have
been tempted to lose sight of the precious trust com-
mitted to us, as freemen, by the great Arbiter of na-
tions, in our devotion to the men or measures, which
are but instruments for its promotion. We had come
to look upon the settlement of that greatest question
which ever comes before us, not as it tended to the
national interest and honour, but as it made for our
success, and for the triumph of our party. I deny
not, that on all sides, honest purposes might lead to
this result. I claim not, that a measure of it is not
26 '
inseparable from our free institutions; and, in modera-
tion, necessary to preserve their freedom. But I do
say, that the evil has by far outrun the good. I do
say, that the end has been lost sight of in the means.
I do say, that private courtesy, social regards and
Christian charity have been disregarded, in the
chase for power and office. I do say, that the very
foundations of the republic have been shaken ; and
the glory clouded, that should ever rest upon the
citadel of freedom. God has reproved us from his
throne. The flap of the death^angel's wing has pas-
sed before all faces. And, in an instant, the nation's
head has crumbled into dust! It still is true— bad
as the world is! — it still is true, thank God! that
" sorrow is a sacred thing !" At this affecting spec-
tacle of mortality, hearts soften, eyes are moistened,
hands are clasped. We own, as one great family,
the common loss. We bend, as brethren all, be-
side our father's grave. Let us accept the omen, fel-
low citizens ! Let ns own, and act upon, its lesson !
Let us no more forget our common country, our com-
mon Constitution, our common heritage of freedom,
and the warm blood, on Bunker Hill, at Monmouth
and at Yorktown, that made it common to us all !
Honest differences we must entertain. Honest pre-
ferences we must avow. But let all differences be
merged, let all preferences be yielded, in the great
cause which makes, and keeps us, freemen. Never
let us forget the patriot grief, that, as on this day,
bows the hearts of this whole nation, as one man.
And, when the day of trial comes again, and we are
tempted to forget our brotherhood of freedom, and
27
the debt we owe to her, who is the mother of us all ;
let us still hear the voice, which, from that patriot
grave, speaks to our hearts, " Sirs, ye are brethren;
why do ye wrong one to another?"
Fellow citizens, have we not all felt, was it in na-
ture not to feel, that, in the death of our Chief Magis-
trate, death has come near us all? But he will come
nearer yet. He ?vill come — when, God knows! — to
me, to every one of you. And, should he come to-
night, should we be ready to go forth and meet him?
Ah, my dear brethren, talk as we may, and as we
must, of other thoughts, and other themes, this is the
trial question for us all. And I should ill become
my office, and ill express the love which warms my
heart for you, and ill discharge the trust with which
the kindness of your honoured representatives has
honoured me, did I not bid you, in my Master's
name, to go, and make your peace with God, through '
Jesus Christ our Lord; and, in all holiness and
righteousness of life, to wait, henceforth. His coming
and His kingdom !
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest.
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy finger cold.
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod,
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung.
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay.
And Freedom shall awhile repair.
To dwell, a weeping hermit, there !
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