Funeral oration, occasioned by the death of general GEORGE WASHINGTON ; and delivered in the episcopal church, at New-Rochelle, in the state of New-York, By SAMUEL BAYARD, Esq.

Friends and fellow-citizens,

NOT

JOT to mourn with a mourning country-not to mingle our tears with those of the American people on the present melancholy occasion, would argue a reproachful want of social sympathy. And not in some public manner to express the regrets we feel at the irreparable loss our country has just sustained, would be an impeachment of our sensibility as men, and of our patriotism as citizens.

THROUGH the channel of our public prints, we learn that our country mourns the departure of her first and favorite son. On this occasion "the mourners" emphatically "go about the streets," and the traces of "grief unfeigned" are beheld in the public countenance. On the arms of every class of our fellowcitizens we see the emblems of that sorrow which their bosoms feel. Our national council stand forward in the first rank of mourners; every public body through the union follows in the sad procession. Our churches are clad in black. Their tolling bells in unison with the public sentiment, add solemnity to the scene, and deepen the gloom that beclouds the public mind. Our army our navy-every political circle-every religious denomination-how divided soever in their sentiments on other topics, all unite in deploring the loss of the most universally beloved and respected character, which this, or any country on earth; which this, or any prior age has ever produced.

YES, my friends, the sighs and tears of our afflicted country, on every side proclaim, that WASHINGTON is dead! As if an angel from heaven had announced it, the melancholy intelligence is every where heard with sorrow and dismay. We ask ourselves if it be possible, that one so eminent for talents, so enob. led by his virtues, so rich in the esteem and affection of his country, is indeed no more. Alas! the event is but too certain.

Washington, the hero, the sage, the friend of liberty, and the father of his country, is now sleeping in his grave.

Never

more shall his majestic form be seen at the head of our armies ; never more shall his enlivening voice be heard in the hall of our national senate; his wisdom and experience shall no longer direct our councils, nor his presence again call forth the enthusiastic admiration of his country.

MUTE is that tongue, whose acccents were never heard but with attention and respect; and lifeless that form which once attracted the gaze of thousands. Low it lies beneath the "clods of the valley," never to rise again, till the trump of the great arch-angel shall wake it from the dead.

YET, could talents the best employed, or virtues the most sublime; could the prayers of surrounding friends, or the influence of medical skill; could the wishes, or supplications of an affectionate and grateful country have suspended the immutable decree of heaven, his life would have been immortal as his fame. But no, his work was finished-his tour of earthly duty closedand that awful moment had arrived when his manly frame must "return to the dust as it was," and his enlightened "spirit to the God who gave it."

THE removal of such a character from a state of trial, to a state of rest, is an event calculated to inspire every reflecting mind with pious awe. It is calculated to awaken those senti. ments of esteem and veneration which we have been accustomed to cherish for the ILLUSTRIOUS DEAD; and it calls upon every citizen who honors merit, or who loves his country, to pay the tribute of a tear, to the memory of the boast and ornament of the present age.

YET what can we do, or what can we say, that can add to the lustre of his fame. As well might we by the aid of a taper endeavor to add splendor to yonder sun, as to encrease his reputation by our praise. His own actions, and his own sentiments, recited with that simplicity which characterised his stile of writ, ing and of speaking, will ever constitute his highest eulogium,

STILL, however his merits may transcend our praise, we can express our admiration of his character, and our gratitude for his services; and although we have neither wealth nor power to raise a mausoleum to his memory, we can embalm his virtues with our tears, and raise a monument to his glory, in the affections of our hearts.

So many are the splendid and good actions of his life; so numerous and impressive the maxims of sound and liberal policy delivered to his country, since she first assumed a place among the nations of the world, that merely to recite them, would fill a volume. Be this the historian's duty; and be it ours at present simply to point out a few of those estimable tracts of character, and of those eminent services which have raised our Washington's, above every Grecian and Roman name; above every name that stands on the records of modern history.

THERE are two characters in which he has appeared most familiar to our minds; as a hero, and a sage; as our GENERAL in war, and our PRESIDENT in peace; in each of these characters, requiring qualifications so different, let us for a moment contemplate this unequalled man. In both we shall find him exhibiting those high endowments of mind, and those excellent qualities of heart, which have rendered him an honor to his country, and a blessing to the world.

"IN war" says an author* (now second in point of rank in the federal government) "In war we have produced a Washington, whose memory will be adored while liberty shall have votaries; whose name will triumph over time, and will in future. ages assume its just station among the celebrated worthies of the world, when that wretched philosophy shall be forgotten, that would arrange him among the degeneracies of nature."

ALTHOUGH not educated a soldier; although unskilled in military tactics, and unpractised in the European system of war; we behold him at the voice of his country, (expressed by

the unanimous vote of its delegates in congress) assuming the chief command of an army, raised in defence of the rights, and to prevent the subjugation, of these states.

He undertook this important and hazardous charge, not for the sake of personal emolument. With a generosity as disinterested as it was unexampled, when he first accepted the appointment, he expressly declined receiving any compensation for his services. From this resolution he never departed. Whatever increase of fortune others may have derived from the American revolution; whatever rewards other generals may have received from the gratitude of their country, the cOMMANDER IN CHIEF declined every compensation offered for his unparalleled services. He wished for no reward, save the approving voice of his own conscience and of his fellow-citizens. Nor was honor more than emolument his aim, in accepting this appointment. What honor could he expect to derive from commanding a body of undisciplined militia-a hasty association of citizens; who, whatever might be their enthusiasm for liberty, or their native bravery, must prove unequal opponents to men who had been trained to arms; to veteran soldiers whose profession was war, and whom discipline had rendered obedient as

machines.

No, the great ruling principle of his life, was love to his country, zeal for her interest and welfare, founded on rules of eternal justice. It was this sublime principle which supported him amidst the trials, the dangers and fatigues which he had to encounter during the three first years of the American contest. It was from a conviction that his governing motive was the public good, that the American people, notwithstanding their early disasters, never lost their confidence in him. They were satisfied of his talents, and they were still more assured of his zeal and sincerity in the cause he had espoused. What other character beside himself could have kept together the shattered remains of our army at the close of the unfortunate campaign of '76? Had he through fear for his person or his property; through levity, disgust, or despondence, then abandoned the cause of liberty, who afterwards could have rallied the brok

en, dispirited remains of our federal army? Who could have roused a sufficient spirit in the country to oppose any effectual resistance to the victorious troops of Britain? This was a period of trial; and at this period the firmness, the intrepidity, the patience and heroism of our cOMMANDER IN CHIEF, like the beams of a bright and cheering star, suddenly bursting from beneath a thick cloud in a stormy night, shone forth to the astonishment and joy of United America. From the lowest state of depression, the public mind was now elevated to hope, and encouraged to perseverance.

THE eventful campaign of '77, though attended with some disasters, terminated advantageously to the American cause. The capture of one entire British army, and the resolute resistance opposed to another, ensured us at the commencement of the campaign of '78, the effectual aid of France. An aid, prompted by whatever motive-whether by that of reducing the power of an ancient rival, of aggrandizing herself, or of revenging former losses and defeats, was nevertheless of incalculable importance in the establishment of American inde pendence. From this time our affairs brightened till the glorious campaign of '81, which ended with the capture of a second British army, under the command of one of the most able and enterprizing generals that Britain could boast. This decisive event satisfied the English government that the subjugation of America was impracticable, and led to the final acknowledgment of American independence.

THE close of war, and the return of peace, so pleasing to all, was peculiarly grateful to the heart of our excellent Washington. He loved retirement. He had left it with regret, wholly from a sense of duty, and not from a wish for change. With pleasure he anticipated the moment when he should again lose the commander of an army in the private citizen. That moment had now arrived. His services as a general are no longer necessary. His army is about to be disbanded. He is about to be separated (possibly for ever) from the companions of his cares and dangers, from men who for eight years had shared his périls and anxieties, and who had been witnesses of