EXTRACT FROM A DISCOURSE,

ON THE DEATH OF ALEXANDER HAMILTON.

BY ELIPHALET NOTT, D. D.

ANOTHER and an illustrious character-a father-a general -a statesman—the very man who stood on an eminence and without a rival among sages and heroes, the future hope of his country in danger-this man, yielding to the influ ence of a custom, which deserves our eternal reprobation, has been brought to an untimely end.

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That the deaths of great and useful men should be partic. ularly noticed, is equally the dictate of reason and revelation. The tears of Israel flowed at the decease of good Josiah, and to his memory the funeral women chanted the solemn dirge. But neither examples nor arguments are necessary to wake the sympathies of a grateful people on such occasions. The death of public benefactors surcharges the heart, and it spontaneously disburdens itself by a flow of sorrows. was the death of Washington to embalm whose memory, and perpetuate whose deathless fame, we lent our feeble, but unnecessary services. Such, also, and more peculiarly so,1 has been the death of Hamilton. The tidings of the former moved us, mournfully moved us, and we wept. The account of the latter chilled our hopes and curdled our blood. The former died in a good old age; the latter was cut off in his usefulness. The former was a customary providence: we saw in it, if I may speak so, the finger of God, and rested in his sovereignty. The latter is not attended with this soothing circumstance.

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The fall of Hamilton, owes its existence to mad delibera. tion, and is marked by violence. The time, the place, the circumstances, are arranged with barbarous coolness. The instrument of death is levelled in day-light, and with well directed skill pointed at his heart. Alas! the event has proven that it was but too well directed. Wounded, mortally wounded, on the very spot which still smoked with the blood of a favorite son, into the arms of his indiscreet and cruel friend, the father fell.

Ah! had he fallen in the course of nature; or jeopardizing his life in defence of his country; had he fallen-but he did not. He fell in single combat-pardon my mistake—he did not fall in single combat. His noble nature refused to endanger the life of his antagonist. But he exposed his own life. This was his crime: and the sacredness of my office forbids that I should hesitate explicitly to declare it so. He did not hesitate to declare it so himself. "My religious and moral principles are strongly opposed to duelling." These are his words before he ventured to the field of death. “I view the late transaction with sorrow and contrition.” These are his words after his return. Humiliating end of illustrious greatness! "How are the mighty fallen!" And shall the mighty thus fall? Thus shall the noblest lives be sacrificed and the richest blood be spilt? "Tell it not in

Gath; publish it not in the streets of Askelon!"

Think not that the fatal issue of the late inhuman interview was fortuitous. No; the hand that guides unseen the arrow of the archer, steadied and directed the arm of the duellist. And why did it thus direct it? As a solemn memento-as a loud and awful warning to a community where justice has slumbered-and slumbered-and slumbered -while the wife has been robbed of her partner, the mother of her hopes, and life after life rashly, and with an air of triumph, sported away.

And was there, O my God! no other sacrifice valuable enough-would the cry of no other blood reach the place of

retribution and wake justice, dozing over her awful seat! But though justice should still slumber, and retribution be delayed, we, who are the ministers of that God, who will judge the judges of the world, and whose malediction rests on him who does his work unfaithfully, we will not keep silence.

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Is duelling guilty?-So it is absurd. It is absurd as a punishment, for it admits of no proportion to crimes: and besides, virtue and vice, guilt and innocence, are equally exposed by it, to death or suffering. As a reparation, it is still more absurd, for it makes the injured liable to a still greater injury. And as the vindication of personal character, it is absurd even beyond madness.

One man of honor, by some inadvertence, or perhaps with design, injures the sensibility of another man of honor. In perfect character, the injured gentleman resents it. He challenges the offender. The offender accepts the challenge. The time is fixed. The place is agreed upon. The circum. stances, with an air of solemn mania, are arranged; and the principals, with their seconds and surgeons, retire under the covert of some solitary hill, or upon the margin of some unfrequented beach, to settle this important question of honor, by stabbing or shooting at each other. One or the other, or both the parties, fall in this polite and gentlemanlike contest. And what does this prove? It proves that one or the other, or both of them, as the case may be, are marksmen. But it affords no evidence that either of them possess honor, probity or talents. It is true, that he who falls in single combat, has the honor of being murdered and he who takes his life, the honor of a murderer. Besides this, I know not of any glory which can redound to the infatuated combatants, except it be what result from having extended the circle of wretched widows, and added to the number of hapless orphans. And yet, terminate as it will, this frantic meeting, by a kind of magic influence, entirely varnishes

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over a defective and smutty character; transforms vice to virtue, cowardice to courage; makes falsehood, truth; guilt, innocence-in one word, it gives a new complexion to the whole state of things. The Ethiopian changes his skin, the leopard his spot, and the debauched and treacheroushaving shot away the infamy of a sorry life, comes back from the field of perfectibility, quite regenerated, and, in the fullest sense, an honorable man. He is now fit for the com. pany of gentlemen. He is admitted to that company, and should he again, by acts of vileness, stain this purity of character so nobly acquired, and should any one have the ef. frontery to say he has done so, again he stands ready to vindicate his honor, and by another act of homicide, to wipe away the stain which has been attached to it.

I might illustrate this article by example. I might produce instances of this mysterious transformation of character, in the sublime circles of moral refinement, furnished by the higher orders of the fashionable world, which the mere firing of pistols has produced. But the occasion is too awful for irony. Absurd as duelling is, were it absurd only, though we might smile at the weakness and pity the folly of its abettors, there would be no occasion for seriously attacking them. But to what has been said, I add, that duelling is rash and presumptuous.

Life is the gift of God, and it was never bestowed to be sported with. To each, the Sovereign of the universe has marked out a sphere to move in, and assigned a part to act. This part respects ourselves not only, but others also. Each lives for the benefit of all.

As in the system of nature the sun shines, not to display its own brightness and answer its own convenience, but to warm, enlighten and bless the world; so in the system of animated beings, there is a dependence, a correspondence, and a relation, through an infinitely extended, dying and reviving universe-"in which no man liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself." Friend is related to friend; the

father to his family; the individual to community. To every member of which, having fixed his station and assigned his duty, the God of nature says, "Keep this trustdefend this post." For whom? For thy friends, thy family, thy country. And having received such a charge, and for such a purpose, to desert it is rashness and temerity.

Since the opinions of men are as they are, do you ask, how you shall avoid the imputation of cowardice, if you do, not fight when you are injured? Ask your family how you will avoid the imputation of cruelty; ask your conscience how you will avoid the imputation of guilt: ask God how you will avoid his malediction, if you do? These are previous questions. Let these first be answered, and it will be easy to reply to any which may follow them. If you only accept a challenge, when you believe in your conscience, that duelling is wrong, you act the coward. The dastardly fear of the world governs you. Awed by its menaces, you conceal your sentiments, appear in disguise, and act in guilty conformity to principles not your own, and that too in the most solemn moment, and when engaged in an act which exposes you to death.

But if it be rashness to accept, how passing rashness is it, in a sinner, to give a challenge? Does it become him, whose life is measured out by crimes, to be extreme to mark, and punctilious to resent, whatever is amiss in others? Must the duellist, who now disdaining to forgive, so imperiously demands satisfaction to the uttermost-must this man himself, trembling at the recollection of his offences, presently appear a suppliant before the mercy-seat of God? Imagine this, and the case is not imaginary, and you cannot conceive an instance of greater inconsistency, or of more presumptuous arrogance. Therefore, "avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath; for vengeance is mine, I will repay it, saith the Lord." Do you ask, then, how you shall conduct towards your enemy, who hath lightly done you wrong? If he be hungry, feed him; if naked,