The Life of General Francis Marion — John Locke — John Shaqi
The Life of General Francis Marion
John Locke · en
From the physicians and many others who attended him in his last illness,
I learned that he had died as he had lived, a truly GREAT MAN. His chamber
was not, as is usual with dying persons, a scene of gloom and silent distress,
but rather like the cheerful parlor of one who was setting out
on an agreeable journey. "Some," said he, "have spoken of death as a leap
in the dark; but for my part, I look on it as a welcome resting place,
where virtuous old age may throw down his pains and aches,
wipe off his old scores, and begin anew on an innocent and happy state
that shall last for ever. What weakness to wish to live
to such ghastly dotage, as to frighten the children, and make even the dogs
to bark at us as we totter along the streets. Most certainly then,
there is a time when, to a good man, death is a great mercy even to his body;
and as to his soul, why should he tremble about that? Who can doubt
that God created us to be happy; and thereto made us to love one another?
which is plainly written in our hearts; whose every thought and work of love
is happiness, and as plainly written as the gospel; whose every line
breathes love, and every precept enjoins good works.
Now, the man who has spent life in bravely denying himself every inclination
that would make others miserable, and in courageously doing all in his power
to make them happy, what has such a man to fear from death, or rather,
what glorious things has he not to hope from it?"
Hearing one of his friends say that the methodists and baptists
were progressing rapidly in some parts of the state, he replied,
"Well, thank God for that; that is good news." The same gentleman
then asked him which he thought was the best religion. "I know
but one religion," he answered, "and that is hearty love of God and man.
This is the only true religion; and I would to God our country was full of it.
For it is the only spice to embalm and to immortalize our republic.
Any politician can sketch out a fine theory of government,
but what is to bind the people to the practice? Archimedes used to mourn
that though his mechanic powers were irresistible, yet he could never
raise the world; because he had no place in the heavens,
whereon to fix his pullies. Even so, our republic will never be raised
above the shameful factions and miserable end of all other governments,
until our citizens come to have their hearts like Archimedes' pullies,
fixed on heaven. The world sometimes makes such bids to ambition,
that nothing but heaven can outbid her. The heart is sometimes so embittered,
that nothing but divine love can sweeten it; so enraged,
that devotion only can becalm it; and so broke down,
that it takes all the force of heavenly hope to raise it. In short,
religion is the only sovereign and controlling power over man.
Bound by that, the rulers will never usurp, nor the people rebel.
The former will govern like fathers, and the latter obey like children.