death, on the 11th of July, 1804, at the early age of
forty-seven,--the age when Bacon was made Lord Chancellor, the age when
most public men are just beginning to achieve fame,--was justly and
universally regarded as a murder; not by the hand of a fanatic or
lunatic, but by the deliberately malicious hand of the Vice-President of
the United States, and a most accomplished man. It was a cold, intended,
and atrocious murder, which the pulpit and the press equally denounced
in most unmeasured terms of reprobation, and with mingled grief and
wrath. It created so profound an impression on the public mind that
duelling as a custom could no longer stand so severe a rebuke, and it
practically passed away,--at least at the North.

And public indignation pursued the murderer, though occupying the second
highest political office in the country. He paid no insignificant
penalty for his crime. He never anticipated such a retribution. He was
obliged to flee; he became an exile and a wanderer in foreign
lands,--poor, isolated, shunned. He was doomed to eternal ignominy; he
never recovered even political power and influence; he did not receive
even adequate patronage as a lawyer. He never again reigned in society,
though he never lost his fascination as a talker. He was a ruined man,
in spite of services and talents and social advantages; and no
whitewashing can ever change the verdict of good men in this country.
Aaron Burr fell,--like Lucifer, like a star from heaven,--and never can
rise again in the esteem of his countrymen; no time can wipe away his
disgrace. His is a blasted name, like that of Benedict Arnold. And here
let me say, that great men, although they do not commit crimes, cannot
escape the penalty of even defects and vices that some consider venial.
No position however lofty, no services however great, no talents however
brilliant, will enable a man to secure lasting popularity and influence
when respect for his moral character is undermined; ultimately he will
fall. He may have defects, he may have offensive peculiarities, and
retain position and respect, for everybody has faults; but if his moral
character is bad, nothing can keep him long on the elevation to which he
has climbed,--no political friendships, no remembrance of services and
deeds. If such a man as Bacon fell from his high estate for taking
bribes,--although bribery was a common vice among the public characters
of his day,--how could Burr escape ignominy