Frederick Frelinghuysen (general) - Death

Death

Frederick died in Millstone, New Jersey on April 13, 1804, his 51st birthday, and was buried at the Weston Burying Ground on the border of Manville, New Jersey and Bound Brook, New Jersey. His tombstone reads as follows:

Entombed beneath this stone lies the remains of Frederick Frelinghuysen, Esq. Major General of the military forces and representative in the General Assembly of this, his native state. Endowed by nature with superior talents, he was beloved by his country. From his youth he was entrusted with the most important concerns until his death. He never disappointed her hopes. In the bar he was eloquent and in the Senate he was wise, in the field he was brave. Candid, generous and just, he was ardent in his friendships, constant to his friends. The patron and protector of his honorable merit. He gave his hand to the young, his counsel to the middle aged, his support to him that was feeble in years. To perpetuate his memory, his children have raised this monument, a frail memorial of their veneration to his virtues and of their grief and their loss of so excellent a father. He died on the 13th of April 1804, aged 51 years.

Read more about this topic:  Frederick Frelinghuysen (general)

Famous quotes containing the word death:

    For the sake of goodness and love, man shall let death have no sovereignty over his thoughts.
    Thomas Mann (1875–1955)

    The death of William Tecumseh Sherman, which took place to-day at his residence in the city of New York at 1 o’clock and 50 minutes p.m., is an event that will bring sorrow to the heart of every patriotic citizen. No living American was so loved and venerated as he.
    Benjamin Harrison (1833–1901)

    But, when nothing subsists from a distant past, after the death of others, after the destruction of objects, only the senses of smell and taste, weaker but more enduring, more intangible, more persistent, more faithful, continue for a long time, like souls, to remember, to wait, to hope, on the ruins of all the rest, to bring without flinching, on their nearly impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory.
    Marcel Proust (1871–1922)