THE presence of an assembly so numer­ous and so respectable—the grandeur of the event which we have met to celebrate —the expectation displayed in every face, and which I feel that I am just about to dis­appoint, are considerations which cover me with embarrassment and confusion. I re­gret that my fellow-citizens have called me to this task; or that being called, I was un­able to resist their invitation. The mind which has been narrowed by pursuits mere­ly professional, is but poorly calculated to do justice to this day. The very sound of the 4th of July, gives rise to a train of thought and feeling so interesting to man­kind—opens a survey so vast, so diversified, so august as might strike into silent astonish­ment the most sublime genius which the world ever knew. The subject affects not America only, but the Universe. Nor does it merely embrace the present posture of human affairs, it points the mind back to [Page] an immense retrospect covered with dark­ness and horror; and presents in perspec­tive, unless our hopes deceive us, an elysian prospect crowned with eternal light and beauty and joy. Lost in the contemplati­on of a theme so unbounded I sink with con­scious weakness under it—but let me not despair; although I am feeble the day it­self is eloquent. It speaks to the heart in strains heavenly and enchanting. The feelings which belong to it shall supply my defects. And when I barely mention the anniversary of American independence, every bosom here will throb with emotions as strong as if my lips were touched with the hallowed fire of eloquence.

The sentiment is correct that the happi­ness of man is known only by contrast. In order therefore to have a just relish for our present felicity; in order to give to this fes­tival all the advantages which belong to it, we should recall the situation of our country prior to the revolution. There is a kind of mournful pleasure in the recollection of distresses from which we have escaped. The peaceful shade of his vine becomes sweeter to the husbandman, when he remembers the arm of war which lately desolated his fields and fired his cottage; and if a con­sciousness [Page 5] of our mortal existence shall fol­low us into futurity, the extacy of the saint in the bosom of his God, will receive a fresh impulse when he looks back upon the storm of life from which he is delivered.

It is impossible to take this retrospective view of the American history without being struck by the meekness, the patience and long-suffering which mark the national character. This trait was displayed by the first emigrants from Great Britain to North-America. There was no obligation on these suffering Christians to recognize the authority of the British monarch. The ideal compact between the sovereign and the subject had been dissolved by the viola­tion of it on his part. He had refused them that protection which alone gave him the only shadow of claim to their allegiance. He had surrendered them into the merciless fangs of Christian bigotry. By oppression the most direful, because it was the oppres­sion of reason and conscience, he had per­mitted them to be forced from his coasts; from their native land; their relations; their friends and all the tender connexions which bind man to life. Innocent and un­offending as they were, he had exposed them to a punishment which the most atro­cious [Page 6] guilt only could justify; to encounter the storm of winter, on seas unknown; to seek an asylum in a strange land—in the boundless forests of America ringing with the terrific howl of beasts of prey, or echo­ing the still more frightful yell of savage man. Yet after all their cruel sufferings, after scenes of terror and dismay which re­semble more the dreams of a distempered fancy than the actual experience of human beings, this handful of tempest-beaten wanderers voluntarily erect themselves in­to a colony, and with a fidelity, amiable even in mistake, plant amid the wilds of North-America the standard of that govern­ment from whose scourge they were yet bleeding. Generous souls!—what was their reward? Oppression—plunder— massacre—inflicted on their posterity by that nation which should have strained eve­ry nerve that belonged to it, to atone for its original cruelty. Yes; a British parlia­ment, in which the voice of America was not heard, authorize a corrupt ministry, under the pretext of taxes at which the world blushed, to plunge their rapacious hands into the pockets of Americans. How did America conduct herself under this new specimen of British barbarity? Did she at [Page 7] once spring to arms to avenge the outrage? No: her national character again developes itself—she is all meek and patient—she complains indeed, but it is in the mild tone of gentle remonstrance and humble suppli­cation—This is the period of our history to which every American turns with trans­port. The most unexampled, but the most portentous moderation had been manifested on the part of America—Addresses to the British throne, the parliament and the peo­ple, addresses breathing the spirit of injured innocence, fortified by arguments that were impregnable, and graced with an eloquence the most manly and pathetic, had been an­swered by silent disdain and fresh outrage— the prophetic voice of Barre and the hea­ven-directed tongue of Chatham, had been lifted in vain against the usurpation—The streets of Boston had been stained with the innocent blood of our citizens—Warren had fallen serene and smiling even in death— and the soul of Montgomery had taken its flight from the plains of Abraham, when America hazarded a step by the side of which, the exploits of an Alexander and a Caesar sink into contempt and detestation. This was the declaration of independence— that immortal monument of the energy and [Page 8] magnanimity of the American mind. By this measure the door of compromise was shut for ever—By this measure America in her infancy, without arms, without an ar­my, without finances, threw herself upon the theatre of war, against a nation grown old in military enterprize, and armed at all points for the conflict. America knew that Great Britain considered this as a war against rebels; that, therefore it would be waged against her with unrelenting se­verity, and that she was not to expect from her antagonist any of the usual rights of war. She knew that Great Britain would now offer no alternatives but abiect submis­sion or extermination; and that in the event of a final defeat, the gibbet or chains and slavery would be her portion. Yet un­daunted by the prospect of consequences and relying solely on the justice of heaven, she took the decisive step. The nations of the earth were astonished at the grandeur of the movement, and stood in fearful expecta­tion of the issue. The great questions were, whether Great Britain, which had so long held the preponderance in the police of Europe, was now to be dismembered of the most valuable part of her dominion? Whether a new power was to be erected in [Page 9] the western world which was sure to grow up soon into immense consequence and produce the most important effect on all the concerns of the eastern? But a still more interesting question was, whether a new aera was about to take place in the history of go­vernment itself, & America to exhibit to the world the novel spectacle of a people mild­ly swaying themselves under forms so per­fect as to ensure their felicity? These were the great points in controversy. The Bri­tish cabinet were amused with the chime­rical project, and laughed at the idea of a conflict between the unfledged eagle of America▪ and the farfamed British lion. Shallow politicians! They did not know what wonders the magic name of liberty could work▪ They did not know that it poured heroism into the heart of the cow­ard; that it braced the feeble arm and lent to it a spring and a force as irresistible as the bolt of heaven. This was a lesson which they were yet to learn in the Ame­rican school—They did learn it and their smile of contempt was changed into the distortion of terror. The storm began. For seven long years the clouds of war hung up­on our land. Amid the silence of night the thunder of battle was heard to burst, and [Page 10] domestic repose fled far away—The gentle bosoms of the neighbouring fair were chill­ed with dismay. A father, a brother, a husband, or some object dear to their hearts might have been the victims of the explosi­on which they had just heard; & even then might be rolling on the plain in the last ago­nies of dissolution. The thought was hor­ror and distraction. The morning comes at last, and a scene more afflicting presents itself—All around our infant towns and vil­lages and hamlets smoking in ruins—the mangled bodies of our citizens prostrate in the dust—pouring out the stream of life on the face of their beloved country—even in the last moment▪ lifting from the blood-stained field their dying arms towards hea­ven—invoking success on the holy cause in which they had fallen—calling down Vic­tory on their surviving brethren—and then —in all the sweet serenity of virtue, breath­ing back their souls to their God. Dear, ever dear, shall ye be to our hearts, ye mar­tyrs in your country's cause. We call you to witness the grateful fervor in which we are dissolving, while we cast our eyes over the field in which ye were sleeping in death— pale—silent—placid—while the guardian genius of America hovered above you, and [Page 11] her tear of pity started through the smile of triumph. Long—long shall your memory fire the bosoms of your descendants, and teach the pulse of glory to beat quick thro' the American heart. From your ashes the Phoenix Liberty has sprung. Not the fran­tic demon of Athens with furious eye and gorgon looks, brandishing aloft the torch of discord and faction and pestilence—nor the spurious pretender of Venice, tricked off in the meretricious tinsel of aristocracy, lifting one scale of human beings to heaven and sinking the other to perdition. But Liber­ty, genuine Liberty herself, pure, serene, sublime—holding the balance level and steady before her, diffusing her smiles equal­ly throughout society, and cheering the heart of the cottager as well as of the man of wealth. Such ye fallen heroes, such is the inestimable boon which we owe to you and which we are now enjoying, but from which—ye were torn. Were ye not our fathers, brothers, sons, friends and saviours? Entwined with our souls by every natural [...]—by every noble affection?—Well, then, may we retire from the transports of the [...]ay to hang over your graves, and while our hearts swell in tumults at the remem­brance of your sufferings to drop, on the [Page 12] sacred sod which covers you, the tear of mingled gratitude and love.

Yet let us not give way to unmanly grief—their death was glorious—and they are happy.

It were needless to dwell on the particu­lar incidents of the revolutionary war. They are known to us all. We all know how cruel were the sufferings of our citi­zens, how deep the groans of our country! But the God of hosts was on our side and Washington—was his apostle. Who can ever forget how with his little band of bro­thers—destitute of every comfort and con­venience of life—without food or raiment— worn down by incessant action—marking with the blood of their feet the frozen ground over which they urged their sleep­less march, he watched the holy flame of liberty, and kept it from expiring? Who has forgotten how, when wants, and difficul­ties, and dangers indescribable pressed thick around him; when the earth below him trembled under the shock of battle, and death presented itself in a thousand forms, his great mind rose superior to confusion— like the sun-gilt summit of some lofty mountain, around whose base the [...] storm wastes itself in vain. If the ancient senti­ment [Page 13] be just that the most pleasing specta­cle to the ruler of the universe is a brave man greatly struggling in the tempest of fate, then the fortitude, the perseverance, the calmness, the magnanimity of General Washington were such as angels might have stooped from heaven to witness with rap­ture—But he is gone to join them, and from the bowers of eternal beatitude he smiles upon the prospect of his country.

And have we not reason to be happy too my fellow-citizens? Has not our great continent emerged from its shameful de­pendance upon a petty island, and is she not rising rapidly to her proper grade in the scale of nations? Have we not gained the grand object of the revolution, the right of the people to govern themselves? Was not this the polar star which guided us through the hurricane of war? Was it not to secure this blessing to the people that the blood and treasure of America were poured out? Do we not enjoy it, and shall we not transmit it without dimination? Why should we ever abandon this right of self rule! Have we not proven the fallacy of that gothic position that the people of a nation are unable to rule themselves—a po­sition which degrades the favorite creature [Page 14] of God, and drags him down to a level with the beasts that perish—a position found­ed on the total prostration of the human mind and the human heart. Yes, our ex­perience has evinced that the reverse of this position is true—it has evinced that the people of an enlightened nation are competent to their own government, and that amid the smiles of peace and tranqui­lity. America has held up to the world this new, this brilliant spectacle—and does it not reflect new lustre upon the dignity of man? For my own part I am proud to de­clare that upon this system I stand fast as upon the rock of ages. I believe in the practicability of a republican form of go­vernment; the experience of America justi­fies that belief. The system is dear to my heart—because it is that for which our fa­thers fought and bled and died—and be­cause I believe it to be the only one which is compatible with the dignity and happi­ness of man. Yet if there be among my countrymen any who hold a different doctrine—who think a government of or­ders—who think a king, lords and com­mons material to the happiness of a nation —be it so—they have the same right to their opinion which we have to ours. Has the God [Page 15] who made me given me the privilege of controuling the judgment of others? He made me man—but so he made my brothers who differ from me—he gave me certain rights as a human being, but he gave to every other human being the same rights. Shall I then presume to arrogate to myself the pre-eminence, & in the proud language of insolent reproach to say to my neighbour, you are wrong—I am right—renounce your opinion and adopt mine, or you want principle—No—heaven forbid! Ever dear to my heart shall be the honest American, whatever may be the complexion of his speculative opinions: And in the right of opinion, however widely it may differ from my own, my voice and arm, such as they are, shall be ever raised to defend him. I will meet him indeed with the weapons of reason and argument—truth disdains all others—but I will meet him in the spirit of a brother; not in that of a foe: and to whatever conclusion his judgment shall conduct him, that conclusion shall be held sacred and inviolable by me. All who have ever reflected on this subject, have dis­covered that no man can controul his own opinions—that in the formation of them, his mind plays the perfect tyrant—that it [Page 16] acts upon the evidence before it, and in spite of his wishes, draws its conclusions irresistibly. Shall I then, or shall any other man require from his fellow creatures im­possibilities? Shall we demand of him to think as we do—when from the original constitution of his nature he is obliged to think as his judgment directs? No—no— illiberality does not become an American. Political and religious intolerance are twin-demons of darkness—hatched long ago du­ring the night of the mind, they started at once into gigantic stature, and with a fren­zy the most wild and terrific, spread havock and consternation thro' the world of man. Let them not prophane by their presence the region of light—let them not touch with unhallowed foot the consecrated shores of that country, in which freedom has fixed her residence. They are the certain har­bingers of civil discord and distraction— blood and carnage and famine are in their train—let us unite to repel them—they do not belong to our climate.

Peace, meekness, liberality, forbearance, brotherly love—these form the splendid re­tinue of liberty—these let us cultivate— they adorn and dignify humanity, and happiness will forever brighten through the [Page 17] land in which they flourish. It is import­ant to the world that America should put the last touch of perfection to that example which she has set them, and which they are beginning to imitate. Yes—this work of imitation has begun, nor shall its inauspici­ous commencement extinguish in my bosom the hope of a happy issue.

I turn my eyes towards France with emo­tions that sicken me. For fourteen centu­ries were the people of that devoted coun­try buried in Egyptian darkness and Egyp­tian bondage. For fourteen centuries had a series of enterprizing monarchs, support­ed by an immense nobility and a priesthood still more immense, better disciplined and invincible in all its operations as the pha­lanx of Sparta—for fourteen centuries had this tremendous combination of political and religious tyrants been forging chains for the people of France! The effort to get loose was desperate and threatened to con­vulse the world. But the nation had caught from America a glimpse of Liberty—they were enraptured by her charms, and deter­mined to put every thing to the hazard to win her. We all know the consequences— they were dreadful—yet let us not impute them to any deformity in Liberty herself— [Page 18] No, she is all innocence and beauty and loveliness—No—it was the external force which acted upon France, and which at­tempted to arrest the carreer of her revolu­tion—it was this which produced those frightful shocks which we heard with ho­ror—but for this, the nation might, after the first explosion have settled peaceably on her foundation. But treason, insurrection, and riot flourished under the long-protract­ed cover of foreign invasion and foreign war: and little does it become the coaliti­on to lay at the door of liberty, those mis­chiefs, of which they are themselves the real authors. But they trembled at the name of Liberty—they perceived that she was ad­vancing to draw aside the curtain, and ex­pose their abominations to the world—they fancied they heard the ancient bas [...]ile of despotism cracking in ruins about their ears —they exerted their invention to render Liberty hateful to the world—they endea­voured to resist her course—they might as well have attempted to stop the splendid flight of the impetuous comet, or bid the im­mense plantes roll back in their spheres. Yes —she shall go forth arrayed in all the grace and dignity of beauty—the nations of the earth shall kindle under the beam of her eye [Page 19] —Tyranny, with all his horrid apparatus of chains and racks and tortures, shall leap affrighted from his throne at her approach —shrink from the sublimity of her mien, and hide his detestable head forever. From pole to pole the white altar of liberty shall be seen displayed—Under the benign influ­ence of her dominoin, the character of man shall tower to its Zenith—the faculties of his mind shall expand and bloom in all the richness of luxuriance—the rougher passi­ons of his nature shall be softened down— around his heart shall beam the ever-living radiance of virtue—the narrow & crooked policy of the globe shall yield to universal confidence—prejudice and distinction and hostility shall be lost in unbounded affection, and the man of the eastern hemisphere shall rush with transport into the bosom of his brother of the west. O! what a transiti­on will this be from the present state of af­fairs Will it not be as magnificent as when at the fiat of God, the earth sprang from chaotic darkness into a stood of light, and all its beauties burst at once upon the sight of its maker! I look on to the glori­ous prospect in speechless extacy!