enclose this memorable spot; to restore it as near as possible to its condition on the seventeenth of June, 1775, so that all who shall make their pilgrimage to it may be able to retrace, as on a map, each incident of the eventful day; to plant around its borders a few trees from our native forests; and to complete the erection of the monumental shaft already begun, simple in its taste, grand in its dimensions and height, and of a solidity of structure which shall defy the power of time. And now I appeal to you, Mr Chairman and fellow-citizens, that such a work, on such a spot, is in accordance with the best principles and purest feelings of our nature. The American who could gaze on it with indifference, does not deserve the name of American. I would say of such a one, if one could be found so cold and heartless, in the language of the great genius of the age, of a fancied being of kindred apathy, "Breathes there the man of soul so dead?..... Proud though his title, high his fame, To the vile earth, from whence he sprung, I think I can bring this to a practical issue in every man's mind. Is there any one who hears me, and will figure to himself the aspect of the work, as it will appear when it is completed; — who will place himself, in imagination, on the summit of the beautiful hill where the battle was fought; look out upon the prospect of unsurpassed loveliness that spreads before him, by land and by sea; the united features of town and country; the long rows of buildings and streets in the city, rising one above another upon the sides of her triple hills; the surrounding sweep of country, checked with prosperous villages; on one side the towers of city churches, on the other the long succession of rural spires; the rivers - that flow on either side to the sea; the broad expanse of the harbor and bay, spotted with verdant islands, with a hundred ships dancing in every direction over the waves; the vessels of war, keeping guard with their sleeping thunders, at the foot of the hill;-and on its top, within the shade of venerable trees, over the ashes of the great and good, the noble obelisk, rising to the heavens, and crowning the magnificent scene; is there any one who will look at this picture with his mind's eye, and not be willing to contribute, in proportion to his means, to do the little which remains to be done to realize it? There have been times when I have desponded; but I do so no longer. I am sure the work will be done. I hear good auguries and words of encouragement on all sides. I cannot mistake, when I think I perceive that the true spirit is awakened. The time is well adapted to the deed. It is now eight years since the corner stone was laid, on the day that completed the half century from the battle. Let us this year urge the work to the close, with the completion of the half century since the termination of the war. If we celebrated the grand commencement of hostilities in the foundation, let us bring forth the top stone, in happy commemoration of the return of peace. I believe, sir, as I have already said, that the work is in the proper hands. I mean no fulsome compliment; I speak what history avouches, that the mechanics, as a class, were prime agents in all the measures of the revolution. It was with them that Warren, and Hancock, and Adams took counsel in dark and trying hours. As a class, they contributed their full quota to the armies that fought the battles of our freedom; and when the war was over, and it remained to be seen whether we had reaped any substantial fruit from the contest; when the constitution was proposed,-when it was laboring, when it was in imminent danger of miscarriage, -the mechanics, as a class, put their shoulders to the wheel, and urged it into action. Who so fit to take an energetic and decisive lead in achieving this great work of commemoration? I rejoice, above all, in this day's meeting; and that the doors of Faneuil Hall have been thrown open to this great and patriotic assemblage; a temple worthy the offering. The spirit of the revolution is enshrined within its columns; and old Faneuil Hall seems to respond to old Bunker Hill; this, with the ancient thunders of its eloquence, and that with the thunders of the battle; as deep calleth unto deep with the noise of its waterspouts. It was beneath this roof that the spirits of our fathers were roused to that lofty enthusiasm, which led them up, calm and unresisting, to the flaming terrors of the mount of sacrifice; and well does it become us, their children, to gather beneath the venerable arches, and resolve to discharge the debt of gratitude and duty to their memory. Two of the periods assigned to a generation of men have passed away, since the immortal Warren appeared before his fellow-citizens on the memorable anniversary of the fifth of March. He was, at that time, in the very dawn of manhood, and as you behold him in yonder delineation of his person. Amiable, accomplished, prudent, energetic, eloquent, brave, -he united the graces of a manly beauty to a lion heart, a sound mind, a safe judgment, and a firmness of purpose which nothing could shake. At the period to which I allude, he was but just thirty-two years of age; so young, and already the acknowledged head of the cause! He had never seen a battle-field; but the veterans of Louisburg and Quebec looked up to him as their leader; and the hoary-headed sages who had guided the public councils for a generation, came to him for advice. Such he stood, the organ of the public sentiment on the occasion just mentioned. At the close of his impassioned address, after having depicted the labors, hardships, and sacrifices, endured by our ancestors in the cause of liberty, he broke forth in the thrilling words, "The voice of your fathers' blood cries to you from the ground!" Three years only passed away; the solemn struggle came on; foremost in council, he also was foremost in the battlefield, and offered himself a voluntary victim, the first great martyr in the cause. Upon the heights of Charlestown, the last that was struck down, he fell with a numerous band of kindred spirits, the gray-haired veteran, the stripling in the flower of youth, who had stood side by side through that dreadful day, and fell together, like the beauty of Israel on their high places! And now, sir, from the summit of Bunker Hill THE VOICE OF OUR FATHERS' BLOOD CRIES TO US FROM THE GROUND. It rings in my ears. It pleads with us, by the sharp agonies of their dying hour; it adjures us to discharge the last debt to their memory. Let us hear that awful voice; and resolve, before we quit these walls, that the long-delayed duty shall be performed; that the work SHALL BE DONE, SHALL BE DONE! TEMPERANCE.* MR EVERETT moved the following resolution: Resolved, That while we behold, with the highest satisfaction, the success of the efforts which have been made for the suppression of intemperance, we consider its continued prevalence as affording the strongest motives for persevering and increased exertion;— WHEN I look around me, and see how many persons there are in the assembly better entitled than myself to the privilege of addressing the audience, it is not without great diffidence that I present myself before you. But if there are occasions on which it is our duty to exert ourselves, in season and out of season, there are also objects we should endeavor to promote, in place and out of place, if, indeed, a man can ever be out of place, who rises in a civilized and Christian community to speak in behalf of Temperance. Emboldened by this reflection, and in compliance with your request, I have ventured to submit the resolution which I have just read, and of which, with your permission, I will briefly enforce the purport. And most sincerely can I say that I never raised my voice with a clearer conviction of duty, nor a more cheerful hope of the ultimate success of the cause. I am not insensible to the force of the objection which * Speech delivered at a temperance meeting in Salem, on the 14th of June, 1833. |