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Maps, piatea, charta, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratioa. Thoae too large to be entirely included in one expoaura are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, aa many framaa aa required. The following diagrama illuatrata the method: Lea cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., pauvent Atre filmte A das taux da rMuction diffArants. Loraque la document est trop grand pour §tre raproduit an un seul ciich*. ii eat filmA A partir de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, at de haut en baa. an prenant Ie nombre d'imagea ntcaaaaira. Lea diagrammas suivants iliustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 • • DISCOURSE PRONOUNCKD AT THE REQUEST or THE ESSEX HISTORICAL SOCIETY, ON THE 19TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1S2S. IN COMMEMORATIOH OF THE FIRST SETTLEMENT OF SALEM, IN THK STATE OF MASSACHUSETTS. BY JOSEPH STORY. PUBLISHED AT THE REqUEST OF THE SOCIETY. ,. BOSTON: HILLIARD, GRAY, LITTLE, AND WILKINS. 1828. - r r;--' - qej^' ^i''*- DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to wll I)ISTHU:T fl.KRK'rt OKfTCE. Be it rkmkmiieued, thiit on the twenty-sixth day of Sopteiiilier, A. U. 1828, and in ihe tifly-lhird year of the iiidepi-ndcnce of the Lnit.'d States o( Anierira, Ililliard, (iiay, Utile, & Wiikins, of said di>titet. have deposited in this office the title of a hook, the ri){ht whereof they elaini as proprietors, in the words following, to wit : — " A Discourse pronounced at tlie Reciuest of the Essex Historical Society, on the 18lh of Septemhcr, 1828, in Conimcmoralion of the first Settlement of Salem, in the Slate of MassarhuscUs. Ky Joseph Story." — In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled " An act for the pncouragement of Icarnini;, hy securing the copies of map.s, charts, and liooks, to the authors and proprietois of such copies during the times (herein mentioned : " and also to an act, entitled " An act supplementary to an act, entilleil ' An act for the encourae;enient of leaminn, hy securing the copies of maps, charts, and hooks, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during (he times therein menlioned,' and extending the lunciits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching histoiical and other prints." J NO. W. DAVIS, Clerk of the District of Alasaachusetta. CAMIIKIDGK : HILI.IAKII, MKTCAIF, AND COMPANY, Priiilcrt to the L'nivtniUj, DISCOURSE. There are certain epochs in the history of nations, which always attract to themselves a last- ing interest. They constitute steps in the progress or decline of empire, at which we involuntarily pause to look back upon the past, or to spell out the for- tunes of the future. They become associated with our inmost feelings and profoundest reflections. Our imaginations embody the time, the place, and the circumstances. We drop the intermediate distances of space and years, which divide us from them. We breathe the very air and spirit of the age itself. We gather up the fragments of broken facts, as history or tradition has scattered them around us. We arrange them with a fond solicitude ; and having dressed them out in all the pride and pomp of fair array, our hearts kindle at the contemplation ; and we exult or mourn, glow with confidence, or bow with humiliation, as they pass before us, and we realize their connexion with ourselves, the glory of our country, or the fate of the world. Of memorable events, few awaken a more lively curiosity than the origin of nations. Whence we sprung, at what period, from what race, by what causes, under what circumstances, for what objects, are inquiries so natural, that they rise almost spon- taneously in our minds ; and scarcely less so in the humblest, than in the most exalted of society. They are intimately connected with our pride, our char- acter, our hopes, and our destin}. He, who may look back upon a long line of illustrious ancestors, cannot forget, that the blood, stirring in his own veins, is drawn from a common source ; and that the light, reflected by their virtues, casts upon his own path a cheering, even though it may be a distant, radiance. And he, who may not claim kindred with the mighty dead, feels, that they are the common inheritance of his country, and that he has a right to share in their fame, and triumph in their achievements. Nor let it be supposed, that this strong propen- sity of our nature is attributable to the indulgence of mere personal or national vanity. It has a higher and better origin. It is closely interwoven w^ith that reverence and affection, with which we regard our parents, and the patriarchs of our own times ; with that gratitude, with which we follow the benefactors of our race ; with that piety, which reads in every event the superintendence of a w ise and benevolent Providence ; with that charity, which binds up our interests in those of mankind at large ; with that sympathy, which links our fate with that of all past and future generations ; and with that sense of duty, which the consciousness of trusts of unmeasured 6 extent never fails to elevate and strengthen. Above all, we are thus enabled to extract from remote events that instruction, which the vicissitudes of human life should press home to our own business and bosoms. The toils and misfortunes incident to infant settle- ments ; the slow progress even of successful effort ; the patience, fortitude, and sagacity, by which evils are overcome or diminished ; the fundamental causes, which quicken or retard their growth; these all furnish lessons, which improve the wise, correct the rash, and alarm the improvident. Two hundred years have just elapsed, since our forefathers landed on these shores for the perma- nent plantation of New-England. I say emphat- ically, for the permanent plantation of New-England. There had been before that period various adven- turers, who from curiosity, or necessity, or hope of gain, explored the coast ; but their pui-poses were transient, or their stay short. There had been here and there little establishments for fishery, or trade, successively taken up and abandoned, from the rieors of the climate, the unprofitableness of the empiav- ment, or the disappointments naturally following upon such novel enterprises. Few persons (com- paratively speaking) had turned their thoughts to this, as a land favorable for the cultivation of the soil, or the arts of social life. It promised little to the European, who should leave his native country with a fancy warm with descriptions of the luxuriance of this western world, and hoping to pass the residue of his hfe, as * one long summer day of indolence ' and ease. It offered no mines glittering with gold 6 und silver to tempt the avarice of the selfish, or to stimulate the hopes of the ambitious. It presented an irret^ular and rocky front, lashed by the waves of a stormy ocean, and frowning with dark forests and bleak promontories. Its rough and stubborn soil yielded with reluctance to the labors of the husband- man ; and the severities of a northern winter for almost half the year stripped the earth of its vegetation by its bitter blasts, or drifting snows. It required stout hands and stouter hearts to encounter such discouragements ; to subdue the ruggedness of nature, and to wait the slow returns, which perseverance and industry alone could rea- sonably hope to obtain. Men must have strong motives to lead them, under such circumstances, to such a choice. It was not an enterprise, which, being conceived in a moment of rashness, might by its (juick success plead its own justification. It had none of the allurements of power, or the indulgences of pleasure, or the oiferings of fame, to give it attrac- tions. Higher motives, and deeper thoughts, such as engross the passions and the souls of men, and sink into comparative insignificance the comforts of social life, are alone adeq ate to produce such re- sults. One might well say, as Tacitus did of the Germany of his own times,* *Qiis porro, praeter periculum horridi et ignoti maris, Asia aut Africa aut Italia relic ta, Germaniam peteret, informem terris, asperam co'lo, tristem cultu aspectuque, nisi si patria sit? ' Who, independently of the perils of a * Hutchinson, in his History (vol. i. p. 2) cites the paasagc. It is from Tacitus de Moribus (JaiiuinUc, c. 2. ' J terrific and unknown sea, would leave the soft cli- mates of Asia, Africa, or Europe, and fix his abode in a land rough and uncultivated, with an inclement sky and a dreary aspect, unless indeed it were his mother country! It should excite no surprise, therefore, that a century had passed away after the Cabots discov- ered the southern part of this continent, and yet the Aborigines remained there in undisturbed security. Even the neighbouring colony of Flyniouth, where the renowned Pilgrims, under Carver, Bradford, and Winslow, had already raised the standard of liberty and the cross, was encountering the severest trials, and struggling almost for existence. There were not a few friends, who began to entertain fears, that unless succours came in from other ([uarters, this noble band of worthies, worn down by hardships and discouragements, might be destined, at no distant period, to follow the fate of other adventurers, or be reduced to a narrow factory.* Their original scheme of colonization involved in it some fatal defects, which were afterwards corrected by their own wisdom and experience. The notion of a com- munity of property and protits was utterly incompat- ible with the growth of a state. It cut off at a blow every excitement to individual enterprise ; and by its unequal distribution of burtliens and benefits sowed far and wide the elements of discord. The followers of the excellent Robinson might, indeed, comfort themselves with the present possession of • 2 Huttli. Hist. 168, -J6f>, 470, 172, 476 ; Prince's Annals, 268 ; Robert- sou's Aiucrica, book 10; 3 Hist. Collect. 417. 8 a rofugc from religious oppression ; but the possibil- ity of a dissolution of Jheir connexion at any period, however r(3n»otc, nuist, whcnuvi-r it was suggested, have filled their hearts with sorrow, and, even when least indulged, sometimes have disturbed their peace. Their own language in defence of their settlement at Hartford affords a striking picture of their situation. * They lived upon a barren place, where they were by necessity cast ; and neither they, nor theirs could long continue upon the same ; and why should they be deprived of that, which they had provided, and intended to remove to, as soon as they were able? * At the distance of ten years from their hrst landing, the colony could scarcely number three hundred inhabitants ; f a proof, at once, of the magnitude of their difliculties, and of the heroic zeal and perse- verance, which met them without shrinking or dismay. By the blessing of God, however, our Fathers also came hither, and, in connexion with the good * Old Colony,* fixed henceforth, and, as we fondly trust, for ever, the settlement and destiny of New- England. And we arc met, on the very spot first trodden by their footsteps, on the very day first wel- coming their arrival, to celebrate this memorable event. It is fit, that we should so do. What occa- sion could occur more worthy of our homage? What recollections could rise up, better adapted to aw^aken our gratitude, cheer our hearts, and elevate • 2 Hutch. Hist. 469, &c. t Robortson's America, book x. |» 267 ; Chalmers's Annals, p. 97. See also the Conimissioners' Report in 1665 (3 Hutch. Collect. 417.) our thoughts 1 Who is he that can suncy this goodly land, and not feel a present sense of its various blessings ? Let liim cast his eyes over our moun- tains, or our vallies, our deep forests, or our culti- vated plains. Let him visit our villages, and hamlets, and towns, thickening on every side, and listen to the sounds of busy, contented, thrifty industry. Let him view the green meadows, and the waving fields, and the rich orchards, rising under his eyes in alter- nate order, yielding their products in profusion, and quickened into fertility by the labors of man. Let him hold communion with the inhabitants of these peaceful abodes, with the mountaineers, and peas- ants, and yeomen, the lords of the soil, the reapers of their own harvests, who look proudly down upon their own inheritance. Let him learn from them the resolute spirit, the manly virtues, the intelligence and piety, which pervade New-England. Let him glance at the neighbouring metropolis ; its splendid spires glittering in the sun ; its noble hospitals' and public charities ; its crowded and well-built streets ; its beautiful harbour, floating on its bosom the com- merce of the world, and reflecting on its surface islands, and islets, and shores of ever varying mag- nificence; its amphitheatre of hills, whose gentle slopes whiten with neat mansions, or soften into shade, under the joint ministry of nature and art ; its lofty halls, where eloquence has burst forth in strains of patriotism, which have made captive the souls of thousands ; its visible industry, and enter- prise, and public spirit, gathering into the lap of a common mother the products of all climates, and 2 10 i . spreading out a generous hospitality. Let him catch in the distant reach the wails of our venerable University, cemented by the solid strength of cen- turies, where learning and religion obtained their early glory, and will, we trust, receive their latest praise ; — let [him, I say, contemplate these scenes, and survey this goodly heritage, and who is he, even though a stranger to us and ours, whose voice shall not eagerly ask our lineage, our ancestry, our age 1 Who is he, that here inhales his natal air, and embraces his mother earth, and does not rejoice, that he was born for this day, and is privileged to pour out his thanks, and offer up his prayers at the home of his forefathers ? To us, indeed, who own the local genius, and feel the inspirations of the place, the day may well be presumed to be crowded with thick-coming fan- cies and joyance. We may not turn our eyes on any side without meeting objects to revive the im- ages of the primitive times. We can still realize the fidelity of the description of the voyager of 1629, who said, * We passed the curious and difficult en- trance into the large, spacious harbour of Naimkeake ; and as we passed along, it was wonderful to behold so many islands replenished with thick wood, and high trees, and many fair green pastures.* The woods have disappeared ; but the islands and the fair green pastures remain with more than native beauty ; and the rivers still meander in their early channel This * city of peace,* so called by our fathers, as significant of their enjoyment of civil and religious freedom, still boasts its ancient name ; still n justifies the original allusion to the scriptures, * In Salem also is GotPs tabernacle, and his dwelling- place in Zion.** The thin and scattered settlements can no longer be traced. But in their stead are found spacious streets, and neat dwellings, and lively schools, and numerous churches, and busy marts, and all the fair accompaniments of opulence and knowledge, simplicity of life and manners, unobtru- sive refinement, and social kindness. Yet in the midst of these blessed changes, we can point out the very spot, where the first flock was gathered, and the first church consecrated to the service of the living God ; where the meet; and learned Higgin- son (alas, how soon to perish !) first raised his voice in prayer, and with trembling lips, and pale cheeks, where sorrow and sickness had worn many an early furrow, discoursed most eloquently of life, and death, and immortality, the triumphs of faith, and the rewards of obedience. Yes, it is still devoted to the same holy purpose. There, the voice of praise, and thanksgiving, and prayer still ascends from pious hearts ; there, the doctrines of salvation are still preached with enlightened zeal and charity ; there, the humble, the contrite, and the pure still assemble in sweet communion, and worship God in spirit and in truth. f The sepulchres of our fore- fathers are also among us. We can trace them through all their various labors to their last appointed home ; * sedes ubi fata quietas ostendunt.' Time * 1 Historical Collections, 117; Psalm Ixxvi. t Sec the excellent dedication sermon of the Rev. Mr Upham, one of ths Pastors of this church, in November, 1826. , 12 has not yet levelled the incumbent sod, nor the moss overgrown the frail memorials erected to their worth. But their noblest monument is around us, and before us. Their deeds speak their eulogy in a manner, which it requires no aid of language to heighten. They live in their works, not indeed in the perishable structures of human skill, in marble domes or triumphal arches, in temples or in palaces, the wonders of art ; but in the enduring institutions, which they created, in the principles, which they taught, and by which they sought to live, and for which they were ready to die. On these they laid the solid foundations of our strength and glory ; and on these, if on any thing human, may be written the words of immortality. Our graveyards offer no better epitaph for them, than that. Here lie the Founders of New-England ; and brief though it be, and of simple phrase, it has a pregnant meaning, the extent of which no human mind has yet grasped. It can be unfolded only with the destiny of our latest posterity. May I venture on some allusions not unbecoming this occasion, and yet of a nature somewhat personal, though not, I trust, obtrusive. I speak in the pres- ence of the descendants of these men. Their names sound with familiar welcome in our streets, and greet us on every iJide, as we pass along. They seem to live again in their offspring. Their images grace our processions, and throng our churches, and enliven our festivals. We feel almost as in their conscious presence, and listen to the voices of other days. When in the enthusiasm of poetry we are 13 asked, * And the pii; -lis, where are they ? * Where are Winthrop, and Endicott, and Higginson, and Dud- ley, and Saltonstall, and Bradstreet, and Pickering, and Sprague, and Pynchon, and Hathorne, and Co- nant, and Woodbury, and Palfrey, and Balch, and the other worthies ? We are ready to exclaim, — They are here. This is their home. These are their children. There is yet among us One, who brings their revered forms before us with peculiar dignity, and is at once the representative of their age and our own. Generation after generation has passed away, and yet he survives, the model, and the monument of a century. His early youth almost clasped the knees of the pilgrims. He was familiar with their sons, and listened to their story from the lips of those, who painted with the vividness of contemporaries, and with the feelings of Puritans. Standing upon the very verge of the first century, he seems the living herald of the first settlers, breathing into our souls their very words and sentiments, as one, who speaks not for the dead, but for those, who yet so- journ on the earth. Time in his favor has relaxed his wonted course, and touched even the faded graces of the past with a kind and mellowing charm. If one were to task his imagination to portray a patriarch of primitive simplicity, warmed with the refinements of these latter days, he could scarcely clothe the being of his own creation with other qualities than we have seen. He could not fail to point out to us a form, venerable for wisdom, learning, and modesty, in which the spirit of philosophy and 14 H i benevolence was sustained by liieekness and piety ; in which blamelessness of life, cheerfulness of heart, and gratitude for past blessings, imparted solid lustre to a faith, and hope, and joy, resting upon immor- tality. Well may it be asked of such a being in the tender language of Scripture, * And the old man, of whom ye spake, is he yet alive?* Your own hearts have already answered the question. We have seen this centennial patriarch ; and we count it among the triumphs of this day, that he yet lives, the delight of his friends, the crown of his profession, and the ornament of human nature. Such are some of the circumstances and associa- tions, belonging to the festival, which has assembled us together. I am but too sensible, how utterly inadequate my own powers are to meet the exigen- cies of such a day. I have not been unconscious of the difficulties of the task ; and I now stand here with sincere self-distrust, having yielded to a sense of duty, what I should gladly have declined, if left to my own choice. After all, however, the occasion carries along with it its own means of gratification, in the thoughts of home, and kindred, and ancestry, and country, which rise in every heart, and hang on every tongue. If I falter in the course, I may well share this consolation, since a common sympathy must disarm the severity of criticism. Many topics, appropriate to this celebration, have already been discussed by others in a manner, which does not require, even if it should admit of farther illustration. The genius of New England has em- ployed some of its best efforts to add dignity to 15 the scene. History and tradition have been laid under contribution to adorn the narrative ; and phi- losophy itself, while studying the events, has unfold- ed speculations, as profound and engrossing, as any, which can engage the human mind. I profess not the rashness to follow in the high course thus marked out; content to walk in the ancient paths, and to gather, as I may, the gleanings of a harvest, which has so amply rewarded the labors of my predeces- sors. My object is to furnish you with a brief sketch of the origin of the colony ; of the motives, which led to the enterprise ; of the characters of the men, who conducted it ; of the principles, upon which it was established ; and of the grand results, which it has hitherto developed. I shall also adventure upon some topics, where the conduct of our ancestors has been severely put to question ; and without at- tempting to disguise their mistakes, I trust, that something may be said to rescue their memories from unmerited reproaches. If the origin of nations be, as it confessedly is, a source of deep interest, there are circumstances connected with the first settlement of New- England peculiarly to gratify a national pride. We do not trace ourselves back to times of traditionary dark- ness, where truth and fiction are blended at every step, and what remains, after the closest investiga- tion, is but conjecture, or shadowy fact. We do not rely upon the arts of the poet to give dignity to the narrative, and invest it with the colorings of his imagination. Greece might delight to trace her 16 origin up to the high renown and antiquity of Egypt ; and Rome soothe herself with her rise from the smouldering ruins of Troy. We have no legends, which genius may fashion into its own forms, and crowd with imaginary personages. Such as it is, our history lies far within the reach of the authentic annals of mankind. It has been written by contem- poraries with a simplicity, which admits of no em- bellishment, and a fidelity, which invites scrutiny. The records are before us, sketched by the first adventurers ; and there we may learn all their wan- derings and cares, and sufferings and hopes, their secret thoughts and their absorbing modves. We can ask of the world no credit for modern state- ments of old events. We can conceal nothing ; and our true glory is, that there is nothing, which we wish to conceal. And yet, I think, whoever shall read these annals in their minute details ; whoever shall bring home to his thoughts the causes and consequences of these events ; whoever shall watch the struggles of conscience against the seductions of affection, and the pressure of dangers ; will feel his soul touched with a moral sublimity, which poetry itself could not surpass. So mighty is truth ; so irresistible is the voice of nature. Take but a single passage in their lives, the open- ing scene of that drama, on which we seem but just to have entered. Go back, and meet the first de- tachment, the litde band, which, under the guidance of the worthy, intelligent, and intrepid Endicott, landed on the neighbouring shore. It was then, as it is now, the early advance of autumn. What can 17 be more beautiful or more attractive, than this season in New-England? The sultry heat of summer has pass- ed away ; and a delicious coolness at evening succeeds the genial warmth of the day. The labors of the hus- bandman approach their natural termination ; and he gladdens with the near prospect of his promised re- ward. The earth swells with the increase of vegeta- tion. The fields wave with their yellow and luxuriant harvests. The trees put forth their darkest foliage, half shading and half revealing their ripened fruits, to tempt the appetite of man, and proclaim the good- ness of his Creator. Even in scenes of another sort, where nature reigns alone in her own majesty, there is much to awaken religious enthusiasm. As yet the forests stand clothed in their dress of unde- cayed magnificence. The winds, that rustle through their tops, scarcely disturb the silence of the shades below. The mountains and the vallies glow in warm green, or lively russet. The rivulets flow on with a noiseless current, reflecting back the images of many a glossy insect, that dips his wings in their cooling waters. The mornings and evenings are still vocal with the notes of a thousand warblers, who plume their wings for a later flight. Above all, the clear blue sky, the long and sunny calms, the scarcely whispering breezes, the brilliant sunsets, lit up with all the wondrous magnificence of light and shade and color, and slowly settling down into a pure and transparent twilight ; — These, these are days and scenes, which even the cold cannot behold without emotion ; but on which the meditative and pious gaze with profound admiration ; for they breathe of holier and happier regions beyond the grave. 3 18 But lovely as is tliis autumn, so finely characteriz- ed as the Indian Summer of New-England, and so favorably contrasting itself with the chills and mois- ture of the British Isles, let us not imagine, that it appeared to these Pilgrims, as it does to us, clothed in smiles. Their first steps on this continent were doubtless with that buoyancy of spirit, which relief from the tcdiousness and dangers of a sea voyage naturally excites. But, think you, that their first hasty glances around them did not bring some anxie- ties for the future, and some regrets for the past ? They were in the midst of a wilderness, untrodden by civilized man. The native forests spread around them, with only here and there a detached glade, which the Indian tomahawk had levelled, or the fisherman cleared for his temporary hut. There were no houses inviting to repose ; no fields ripening with corn ; no cheerful hearths ; no welcoming friends ; no common altars. The heavens, indeed, shone fair over their heads ; and the earth beneath was rich in its beauties. But where was their home? Whera were those comforts and endearments, which that little word crowds into our hearts in the midst of the keenest sufferings ? Where were the objects, to which they might cling to relieve their thoughts from the sense of present desolation? If there were some, who could say with an exile of the succeeding year, * We rested that night with glad and thankful hearts, that God had put an end to our long and tedious journey through the greatest sea in the world ;'* there were many, whose pillows were wet • 3 Hutch. Collect. 44. 19 with bitter, though not repentant, tears. Many a father offered his evenin«5 prayer with trembling ac- cents ; many a mother clasped her children to her bosom in speechless figony. The morrow came ; but it brought no abatement of anxiety. It was rather a renewal of cares, of sad reminiscences, of fearful forebodings. This is no idle picture of the fancy, tricked out for effect, to move our sympathies, or blind us to the real facts. How could their situation be otherwise ? They were not fugitives from justice, seeking to bury themselves and their crimes in some remote corner of the eartii. They were not prodigals, endeavouring to retrieve their wrecked fortunes in distant adven- tures. They were not idle and luxurious wanderers, weary of society, and panting for unexplored novel- ties. They had left a country full of the refinements of social life, and dear to them by every human tie. There were the tombs of their ancestors ; there the abodes of their friends ; of mothers, who kissed their pale cheeks on the seashore ; of sisters, who wrung their hands in sharp distress ; of children, who dropped upon their knees, and asked a blessing at parting, ay, at parting for ever. There was the last, linger- ing embrace ; there the last sight of the white cUffs of England, which had faded from their straining gaze, for time, and for eternity. There for the last time were uttered from their broken voices, * Fare- well, dear England ; farewell, the church of God in England ; farewell, all Christian friends there.' * * Eliot's Dictionary, Art. Higginion, 252. 20 They were now landed on other shores. The excitements of the voyage were gone. Three thou- sand miles of ocean rolled between them and the country they had left ; and every illusion of hope had vanished before the sober realities of a wilder- ness. They had now full leisure for reflection, .... * while Imsy, meddling memory, In barbarous succession mustered up The past endearments of tlieir softer hours, Tenacious of its theme.' There is nothing so depressing in exile, as thai sickness of the heart, which comes over us with the thorights of a lost, distant home. There is nothing, which softens the harsh features of nature, like the feeling, that this is our country. The exiles of New- England saw not before them either a home, or a country. Both were to be created. If the past could bring few consolations, the fu- ture was not without its embarrassments. The season was passed, in which any addition could be made to their scanty stock of provisions from the produce of the soil. No succours could reach them until the ensuing spring ; and even then, they were subject to many contingencies. The winter must soon approach with its bleak winds, and desolating storms. The wild beasts were in the woods ; and the scarcely less savage Indians lurked in the rav- ines, or accosted them with questionable friendship. Trees were to be felled, and houses built, and forti- fications arranged, as well for shelter as for safety ; and brief was the space, and feeble the means to accomplish these necessary defences. Beyond these 21 were the unknown dangers of change of climate, and new habits of life, and scanty food ; of the pes- tilence, that walkcth in darkness, and the famine, that wasteth at noonday. These were discourage- ments, which might well appal the timid, and subdue the rash. It is not, then, too much to attirm again, that it required stout hands and stouter hearts to overcome such diiliculties. But ' If misfortuno comes, sho bringB along The bravest virtuea.* The men, who landed here, were no ordinary men ; the motive for their emigration was no ordinary motive ; and the glory of their achievement has few parallels in the history of the world. Their perse- verance in the midst of hardships, their firmness in the midst of dangers, their patience in the midst of sufferings, their courage in the midst of disasters, their unconquerable spirit, their unbending adhe- rence to their principles, their steady resistance of all encroachments, surprise us even more than the wisdom of their plans, and the success of their operations. If we trace on the colony during the two or three next succeeding years, in which it received an ac- cession of almost two thousand persons, we shall find abundant reason to distrust those early descriptions, of which the just complaint was, that * honest men, out of a desire to druw over others to them, wrote some- what hyperbolically of many things here,* and * by their too large commendations of the country, and the commodities thereof, so strongly invited others '21 to go on;** and to express our astonishment, that the enterprise was not instantly abandoned. Many of those, who accompanied Endicott, died in the ensuing winter by disease from exposure, and want of food, and suitable medical assistance. They were reinforced in the next summer by new colonists with fresh supplies ; and again in the succeeding year, when the Corporation itself was also removed under the auspices of Winthrop, Dudley, Johnson, Saltonstall, and others. What was then the state of the Colony ? We are told by a friend and eye-wit- ness t — * VVe found the Colony,' says he, * in a sad and unexpected condition; al)ove eighty of them' (that is, more than one quarter of the whole number) * being dead the winter before ; and many of those alive weak and sick ; all the corn and bread amongst them all hardly suHlcient to feed them a fortnight.' He adds, * If any come hither to plant for worldly ends, that can live well at home, he commits an error, of which he will soon repent him.' — * In a word, we have little to be envied ; but endure much to be pitied in the sickness and mortality of our people.' And then in the conclusion of this memo- rable letter he breaks out with the unconquerable spirit of Puritanism — * We are left a people poor, and contemptible ; yet such as trust in God ; and are contented with our own condiilon, being well assured, ^hat he will not fail us, nor forsake us.' Men, who were thus prepared to encounter such distresses, were prepared for every thing. The • Governor Dudley's Tottf i Hi' ; Coll. 8(; 38, 43. t Id. n)id. p. 38. 23 stake had no terron for them ; and earth had no re- wan' which couUl Ibr a moinrnt withdraw them from the dictates of conscirru . ind (lui\ . This year was, indeed, till mor 'lisastrous tl\an the preceding, and robhcul tlicm of some )f their brightest ornaments. Before l)e( ember the ^avo had closed upon two hundred of their number; and amona; these were some of the most accomplished of ho\h f^'xes. It is impossible, even at this distance of lime, to contemplate their character and fate, wiiliuut the deepest sympathy. Hi^ijf^inson, the rev- erend and beloved teacher of the fust Hock, fell an early victim, in the forty-third year of his age, and the first of his ministry. Let me pause for a moment to pay a passing tribute to his worth. He received his education at Emanuel College in Cam- bridge, where he was so much distinguished by his talents, acquirements, and scholarship, that he gain- ed an early introduction into a benefice of the church. The arguments of Hildersham and Hooker, however, soon infused scruples into his mind respecting the doctrines and discipline of the establishment, and he was ejected for nonconformity. He then taught a few pupils for the maintenance of his family ; and having received an invitation to remove to New- England, in the hope of restoring his health, and animated by the glorious prospect of a free enjoy- ment (as he expresses it) * of the true religion and holy ordinances of Almighty God,* he embarked with his family in the Talbot in 1629. In the course of the voyage he had the misfortune to lose one of his daughters, of whose death he gives us an account in 24 his journal, drawn up with a simplicity beautifully illustrative of his own character. * And so,' says he, * it was God's will the child died about five o'clock at night, being the first in our ship, that was buried in the bowels of the great Atlantic sea; which, as it was a great grief to us, her parents, and a terror to all the rest, as being the beginning of a contagious disease and mortality, so in the same judgment it pleased God to remember mercy in the child, in forcing it from a world of misery, wherein she had lived all her days.* And, after an allusion to her personal infirmities, he concludes, * So that in respect of her we had cause to take her death as a blessing from the Lord to shorten her misery.'* Alas ! he was destined too soon to follow her. Not many months elapsed before a consumption settled on his cheeks, and by its hectic flushes betrayed an irretrievable decline. He died with the composure, resignation, and christian confidence of a saint, leaving behind him a character, in which learning, benignity of manners, purity of life, fervent piety, and unaffected charity, were blended with most at- tractive grace ; and his name is enrolled among the earliest and truest benefactors of New-England. A death scarcely less regretted, and which follow- ed with a fearful rapidity, w as that of a lady of noble birth, elegant accomplishments, and exemplary vir- tues. I speak of the Lady Arabella Johnson,f a daughter of the Earl of Lincoln, who accompanied • 3 Hutch. Collect. 32, 36. t Her name is commonly spelt in the rccortls of that day, possibly as an ftbbreviation, * Arbella.' 25 her husband in the embarkation under Winthrop, and in honor of whom, the admiral ship on that occasion was called by her name. She died in a very short time after her arrival ; and lies buried near the neighbouring shore. No stone or other memorial indicates the exact place ; but tradition has j)reserv- ed it with a holy reverence. The remembrance of her excellence is yet fresh in all our thoughts ; and many a heart still kindles with admiration of her vir- tues ; and many a bosom heaves with sighs at her untimely end. What, indeed, could be more touch- ing than the fate of such a woman ? What example more striking than hers, of uncompromising affection and piety ? Born in the lap of ease, and surrounded by affluence ; with every prospect which could make hope gay, and fortune desirable ; accustomed to the splendors of a court, and the scarcely less splendid hospitalities of her ancestral home ; she was yet content to quit, what has, not inaptly, been termed * this paradise of plenty and pleasure,' for *a wilder- ness of wants,' and with a fortitude superior to the delicacies of her rank and sex, to trust herself to an unknown ocean and a distant climate, that she might partake, with her husband, the pure and spiritual worship of God. To the honor, to the eternal honor of her sex, be it said, that in the path of duty no sacrifice is with them too high, or too dear. Nothing is with them impossible, but to shrink from what love, honor, innocence, religion, requires. The voice of pleasure or of power may pass by unheed- ed ; but the voice of affliction never. The chamber of the sick, the pillow of the dying, the vigils of the 4 26 li dead, the altars of religion, never missed the pres- ence or the sympathies of wonlan. Timid though she be, and so delicate, that the winds of heaven may not too roughly visit her; on such occasions she loses all sense of danger, and assumes a preter- natural courage, which knows not, and fears not consequences. Then she displays that undaunted spirit, which neither courts difficulties, nor evades them ; that resignation, which utters neither murmur nor regret ; and that patience in suffering, which seems victorious even over death itself. The Lady Arabella perished in this noble under- taking, of which she seemed the ministering angel ; and her death spread universal gloom throughout the colony. Her husband was overwhelmed with grief at the unexpected event, and survived her but a single month. Governor Winthrop has pronoun- ced his eulogy in one short sentence. * He was a holy man, and wise, and died in sweet peace.' He was truly the idol of the people ; and the spot selected by himself for his own sepulture became consecrated in their eyes ; so that many left it as a dying request, that they might be buried by his side. Their re- quest prevailed ; and the Chapel Burying-ground in Boston, which contains his remains, became from that time appropriated to the repose of the dead.* Perhaps the best tribute to this excellent pair is, that time, which, with so unsparing a hand, consigns statesmen and heroes, and even sages to oblivion. •I Hutch. Hist. 16; 1 Winthrop's Journal, 34; Eliot's Dictionary, Art. Johnson. 87 has embalmed the memory of their worth, and pre- served it among the choicest of New-England relics. It can scarcely be forgotten, but with the annals of our country. I have dwelt with some particularity, perhaps with undue solicitude, upon some of die circumstan- ces attending the emigration of our forefathers. They are necessary to a full comprehension of the difficulties of the enterprise, and of the sulFerings, which they bore, I will not say with fortitude merely, but with cheerful, unrepining resolution. It is not by a few set phrases, or a few strong touches, that we can paint their sorrows, or their struggles, their calmness, when their friends were falling around them, and themselves were placed at the ' dreadful post Of observation, darker every hour ; ' or their courage at the approach of dangers of another sort. Many of them went down to an early grave without the consolation even in vision of an ulti- mate triumph ; and many, who lived to partake it, grappled with hardships, the plain recital of which would appal more than the most studied exaggera- tions of rhetoric. But (let me repeat it) thanks be to God, their efforts were successful. They laid the foundations of empire in these northern regions with slow and thoughtful labor. Our rever- ence for their services should rest, not upon the fic- tions of fancy, but upon a close survey of their means and their ends, their motives ond their lives, their characters and their actions. And I am much mis- taken, if that close survey does not invigorate our 28 iiiil patriotism, confirm our principles, and deepen and widen the channels of our gratitude. The history of colonies, both in ancient nnd mod- em times, may be gentTally traced back to the ambition of princes, the love of adventure or gain, the pressure of poverty, or the necessity of a refuge from political oppressions. The ancient nations, for the most part, transplanted colonies to distant re- gions, to extend the boundaries of their power, and consolidate their strength. They were sometimes outposts of the empire, to hold in check a conquer- ed province, and sometimes military stations to over- awe and watch a formidable rival. The beautiful regions of Asia Minor were peopled with Grecian tribes, by the attractions of a fertile soil and delicious climate, by the passion for conquest, by the tempta- tions of eastern luxury, and by the ostracisms .^jJT successive factions. Rome gathered them within the folds of her ample domain, as the booty of her arms ; and pushed her own colonies only where tribute was to be exacted, or distant conquests secured. The whole line of her colonies in Gaul, Germany, and the North, were but a chain of military commu- nications to intercept the inroads of the barbarians, and furnish employment for leaders and legions too restless and too ambitious for civil life. They were at once the sources of her power, and her weakness. To them Rome was every thing ; and the colonies they occupied, nothing, except as resources and de- pots to command the republic, or di('tate the succes- sion to the imperial })urple. '''he Capitol was but too often obedient to the will of a provincial commander, and a licentious soldiery. f-^. 29 *-v!r The colonies of modem nations owe their origin almost exclusively to the spirit of commerce. If power has mixed itself among the ohjects of their governments, it has rather been, as a consequence of commerce, than an independent motive. Ships, commerce, and colonies were so long associated in the minds of European statesmen, that they seemed inseparable accompaniments. Hence arose l^iat system of monopoly, which narrowed down all tr^ide to the mother country, and stinted the growth &nd crippled the resources of the colonies to the measure of the wants of the former. All Europe, as if by a general conspiracy, acted up to the very letter of this system for centuries. The general practice . was, like that attributed to the Dutch in respect to the Spice Islands, to destroy all the surplus, beyond that which would yield the established rate of profits. The South American colonies of France, Spain, and Portugal were hermetically sealed against the ap- proach of foreign ships, until the mighty revolutions of our day crumbled the whole system into dust, and opened, almost like an earthquake, a paihway through their interior. Even England relaxed Jier grasp with a slow and reluctant caution, yielding little, except to necessity, indifferent to the colonial interests, and solicitous only that the home market should gather up and distribute all the profits and products of the Indies. Her famous navigation acts, the boast of her statesmen from the times of Crom- well down to ours, are an undisguised appropriation of the means of the colonies to the poHcy of the mother country. She generally left the plantations 30 I'M i!i; to the private enterprise of her subjects, until their trade was worthy of her interference ; and she tlien assumed the government and regulation of them for her own and not for their benefit. Protection be- came a duty only at the time when it seemed no longer a burthen. Her vast empire in the East, the wonder of our day, whose fate furnishes a problem, not to be solved by any former experience, is but the ill-managed contrivance of a private corporation for trade. It affords a curious example of the spirit of conquest engrafted on the spirit of commerce ; of a government founded on calculations of pro- fit ; of a legislation acting on the industry of sixty milUons of subjects, wholly without representation ; of a judicial establishment seeking to administer justice by appeals to an unknown code, with entire good faith, but wholly inadequate means ; of a polit- ical superintendence, which guards against external violence, but which sits down contented, while prov- inces are plundered, and thrones are overturned, in wars brought on by the encroachments of commerce. The colonies planted on the continent of North America, were in a great measure the offspring of private adventure and enterprise, and, with a single exception, of the spirit of commerce. That excep- tion is New-England ; and it is an exception as extraordinary as it is honorable. We owe our ex- istence to the love of religion ; and, I may say, exclusively to the love of religion. I am aw are, that the council of Plymouth had profitable objects in view, and that capital was first embarked, and a €harter obtained to accomplish these ends. But the 31 scheme had little chance of success, and was in fact suspended, if not entirely abandoned. The first settlement at Plymouth was made solely from mo- tives of religion without any charter, and even with- out any title to the land. And it was not until the charter of 1628 was obtained, by men whose whole hearts were devoted to religion, that the same im- pulse effected the colonization of Massachusetts. This is not left to tradition ; but is the sober truth of history, unquestioned, because unquestionable. It has the highest record evidence in its support. It has, if possible, even weightier proofs, in the j)ublic acts of the colony ; in our past and existing institu- tions ; in the very errors, as well as the virtues of our forefathers. They were Christians ; they were Puritans ; they were Christians persecuted by Chris- tians ; they were Puritans driven into exile by the priesthood. The influence of religion upon the human charac- ter, is one of the most interesting studies in the history of our race. But the influence of Christian- ity, whether viewed in respect to the extent of its reach, or the nature of its operations, is the most instructive of all speculations, which can employ the intellect of man. Paganism was indulgent in its general policy, for it taught little of duty, and claim- ed no exclusive possession of the oracles, or even of the favor of its divinities. In truth, it floated round the mind with a loose and indeterminate credit, and easily admitted into its temples the worship of strange gods ; sometimes because their favor might be pro- pitiated, or their vengeance averted ; sometimes, 32 :^i i!'5: • ■ ' ■ ■*■ 11 li|i '■'} perhaps, because the relative power, superiority, anil oliice of each mi^ht not be well adjusted in their mythology. Quarrels and divisions about faith and doctrines, were of very rare occurrence in the Heath- en world ; for their religion dealt more in rites and ceremonies, than in fixed belief.* There would be little inclination for public struggles, where rewards and punishments were supposed to be administered, not according to desert, but according to the favor, to the passions, and even to the animosities of their di- vinities. There could be little responsibility cher- ished, where acts, offensive to some, might on that very account be grateful to others, of their gods. Gibbon's splendid description of the Roman religion is true of nearly the whole ancient world. ' The various modes of worship, which prevailed in the Roman world, were all considered by the people, as equally true ; by the philosopher, as equally false ; and by the magistrate, as equally useful. And thus toleration produced, not only mutual indulgence, but even religious concord.' f Far different is the case with Christianity. It propounds no equivocal doctrines. It recognises no false or foreign gods. It allows no idolatrous worship. It presents to all men, one Supreme Being the only proper object of worship, unchangeable, infinite, omniscient, all-wise, all-good, all-powerful, all-merciful, the God of all, and the Father of all. It developes one complete system of duties, fit for all times, and all stations ; for the monarch on his • Bacon's Essays ; 2 Bacon's Works, 257. 1 1 Gibbon's Hist. ch. 2, p. 46 ; Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws, b. 23, ch. 15. 33 throne, and the peasant in his cottaj^e. It brings all men to the same level, and measures all by the same stanihird. It himihles in the dust the proud and the arrogant ; it gives no heed to the glory of princes, or concpierors, or nobles. It exalts the lowly virtues, the love of peace, charity, humility, forgive- ness, resignation, patience, purity, holiness. It teaches a moral and final accountability for every action. It proposes sanctions for its precepts of no earthly reach ; but such as are infinite, unchangea- ble, and eternal. Its rewards are the promises of immortal bliss ; its punishments a fearful and over- whelming retribution. It excuses no compromises of principle and no paltering with sin. It acknowl- edges no sacrifices, but of a broken and contrite spirit; no pardon, but by repentance of heart and reformation of life. In its view, this life is but the entrance upon existence ; a transitory state of pro- bation and trial ; and the grave is the portal to that better world, * where God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, nor shall there be any more pain.* To minds engrossed by such thoughts, and fixed in such belief, what could there be seducing or sat- isfying in the things of this world? It would be impossible for them for a moment to put in competi- tion the affairs of time, with the dazzling splen- dors and awful judgments of eternity. We need not wonder, therefore, that Christianity has had, in all ages, and in all sects, its devotees and martyrs, men who would endure every evil rather than renoimce 5 'M v9 '^.; 'V'r I; it, whether it were exile, or torfeitiire, or torture, or (l(«;ith ; that perseention should have been at no loss ("or victims, whenever she had lij^htcd her fires; and that in the very moment ot" her imagined triumph, while her hands were yet reeking with blood, she should have felt her own doom sealed, and her own power withered. The Reformation was the natural result of causes, which had been silently working their way from the first dawn of the revival of letters. Learning stimu- lated inquiry ; inquiry created doubt ; and doubt brought on a feverish restlessness for knowledge, which must sooner or later have corrected abuses and errors, even if political causes had not hastened the event. Fortunately for England, fortunately for the cause of religion in its most catholic sense, the passions of a sanguinary and sensual monarch effected at a single blow, what perhaps it would otherwise have required ages to accomplish. The controversy of Henry the Eighth with the Papal see arrested the attention of all Europe, and produced in England a deep conviction of the necessity of some reformation in the church. It was of course, that parties should, upon such an occasion, rally under different banners. Many of the dignitaries, both of the church and state, resisted every innova- tion, as fraught with evil, not merely from a blind reverence for antiquity, but also from that sympa- thetic dread of change, which belongs to the habits of mankind in all ages. Many were ardently devoted to the cause of reform ; but wished to touch gross abuses only, iuid thus to pave the way for 35 ^radiini, Miit solid impr()vcmi»nt.>?. Many of (ItM'pri thought, and vvarnuT zeal, and holder purposrs, deemed it matter of conscience to root out every error, and to hring back Christianity at once to what they esteemed the simplicity of ihe CJospel. To this last class belonged the body of thi' Puritans, a class as distinguished for learning, talents, probity, and disinterestedness, as any which adorned their own times. It is a mistake commonly enough entertain- ed, that they were, in the modern sense, Dissenters ; that they were hostile to episcopacy in every shape ; and that they pushed their aims to ihc overthrow of all church government. The truth was far other- wise. Many of the most distinguished among them were reared in the bosom of the church, and sin- cerely loved its venerable forms. Their object was to reform such of its rites and ceremonies only, as they deemed inconsistent with the Scriptures. If in the course of events they arrived at diflferent con- clusions, it was because prerogative pressed on them with a heavy hand; because prelacy became the instrument of persecution; because the laws re- specting uniformity under the famous High Commis- sion Court trampled upon their rights and conscien- ces, and drove them to examine into the scriptural foundations of the hierarchy. In all their struggles, from the reign of Henry the Eighth to that of James the First, the Puritans clung to the establishment with a sincerity of affection, which, considering their sufferings from papacy and prelacy, is marvellous. In the farewell address of our forefathers at the very n\onient of thrir (lej)arture for America, it breaks out 36 into expressions of warm and filial attarhmcnt. We *esti't'm it our honor,' say tlu y, Mo call \hv. church of England, from whence we rise, our dear nioiher; and cannot j)arl from our native country, where she specially residelh, without much sadness of heart, and many tears in our eyes, ever acknowledging, that such hope and part as we have obtained in the common salvation, we have received in her bosom, and sucked it from lier breasts. We leave it not, therefore, as loathini^ that milk, wherewith we were nourished there; but blessiui^ (loil for the parentage and education, as members of the same body, shall always rejoice in her good, and unfeignedly grieve for any sorrow, that shall ever betide her ; and while we have breath, sincerely desire and endeavour the continuance and abundance of her welfare, with the enlargement of her bounds in the kingdom of Christ Jesus.' * The Puritans have been divided by an accom- plished historian into three parties ; the political Puri- tans, who maintained the highest principles of civil liberty ; the Puritans in discijiline, who were averse to the ceremonies and episcopal government of the church ; and the doctrinal Puritans, Mho rigidly de- fended the speculative opinions of the first reformers.! The remark, such as it is, is applicable to a later period ; for at the emigration of our ancestors, scarcely any divisions in doctrine existed among the Protestants of England. The great controversies touched the rites and ceremonies, and the fasts and 1 Hutch. Hist. Appendix, 487, 483. f ^ Hume's Hist. ch. li, p. 272. 37 feasts of the rhur< h. the voMtments of the prie!»thooil, kneeling at the altar, the sij^n of tht; cross, and the manner of celebratinj; the onhnances. The usaiies of the church in some of these resj)ects were ileetneil by the Puritans uuscriptural, th(; remnants of popery, jinil ^ross corruptions of reli^^ion. In tlie sincerity of their hearts, they coulil not practise them ; in the scruples of their consciences, they felt bound to reject them. For this sincerity, for these scruples, they were expelled from their benefices ; they were subjected to spiritual censures ; they were loailed with temporal punishments. They were even com- pelled, by penalties, to attend upon a ])ul)lic worship, which they abhorreil, from the time of Elizabeth down to the Revolution of 1G88.* The lan^uariii( ijik s of rclii^ious libc'iiy. Uut wo niiist rLnitniiiLT, ihat thoy were uttered in llie heat of coiilroversy, to l)eut down the authority of tlie Koniisli churcii ; and so httlc were they sustained hy pubhc opinion, that tlioy were hunenlably forgotten in tiie lirst moments of Protes- tant vi( loiy. They were mere outworks in the sys- tem of theok)i;ieal opinions, whieh might form a defence a;>;ainst Catlioiic attacks ; and were treated witli contempt or indilierence, when heresies sprung up in the bo.>om of the new faith. My Lord Bacon, in his discourse upon the unity of rohgion, written with a modeiation becoming liis great mind, and with a spirit of inJuigence far beyond the age, has never- theless contended strenuously for the unity of faith, and deckired, that 'heresies and schisms Jire of all others the greatest scandals.* At the same time he boldly warns us not * to propagate rehgion by wars, or by sanguinary persecutions to force conscien- ces.* * At the distance of a century, the enlightened author of the ' Spirit of Laws * avowed the doctrine, that it is sound policy, when the state is already satisfied with the established religion, not to suffer the establishment of another. And while he declares that penal laws, in respect to religion, ought to be avoided, he paradoxically maintains the doctrine, as a fundamental principle, that when the state is at liberty to receive or reject a new religion, it ought * 2 Bacon's Works, 259. TiO to be rejected ; when it is received, it ought to be tolerated.* So slowly does truth make its way even among the most gifted minds, in opposition to pre- conceived o|)inions and prejudices. Nay, we need not go back to other times for illustrative examples. Is it even now true, that the doctrine of religious liberty is received with entire approbation in Christendom ? Where it is received with most favor, is it not recognised more as mat- ter of toleration and policy, than of right ? suffered rather than supported ? connived at from fear, rather than vindicated upon principle 1 Even in England, free and enlightened as she is, how slow and reluc- tant has been the progress towards a generous tole- ration. It is scarcely twelve years since it ceased to be a crime punishable with fine and imprisonment, to deny the doctrine of the Trinity. The universi- ties of Oxford and Cambridge are still by their stat- utes closed against the admission of Dissenters from the established church. For more than a century and a half, Protestant Dissenters of every descrip- tion were excluded by law from the possession of offices of trust or profit in the kingdom. The repeal of the odious corporation and test acts, by which this exclusion was guarded, was, after much resist- ance, accomplished only at the last session of Par- liament; and the celebrations of this event, of this emancipation from religious thraldom of one third of her whole population, are just reaching our ears from the other side of the Atlantic. The Catholic yet * Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws, book 26, ch. 10, 12. 51 ^o() that the intro- duction of a colonial nobility became absolutely impracticable. Henceforth the partible nature of estates was so fixed in public opinion, that it broke down every attempt to perpetuate entails ; and left the mass of our landed interests, as we now find them, in the possession of the yeomanry in fee sim- ple. While this great law of descents exists, it will for ever prevent the establishment of any arbitrary power. The government, that once admits it into its code, may remain in form a monarchy, or an aristocracy ; but it will follow the impulses of public opinion, and find its surest protection in the advance- ment of popular principles. Thus broad, thus elevated, was the early legisla- tion of our forefathers. If we except from it that portion, which was tinged by the bigotry and super- stition of the times, we shall find it singular for its wisdom, humanity, and public spirit ; and admirably adapted to the wants of a free, simple, and intelligent people. Among the most striking acts of their legislation are those, which respect the cause of learning and edu- cation. Within ten short years after their first settle- ment they founded the University at Cambridge, and endowed it with the sum of four hundred pounds, a sum, which, considering their means and their wants, was a most generous benefaction. Perhaps no Ian- 01 pufiUf roiild m(>n» '-iicnifirantly oxpro'is tho (lljjnitv of thj'ir »l<'si«(n, thiiri tlw ir own woriN. ♦ After (iod had carried ns sale to Nr\v-Kii<;land,' say they, * and we had hnildcd our houses, ])r(>vide(l necessaries for our livehhood, reared convenient phices for (iodN worship, and settled the civil government ; one of the next thir»i;s we longed for, and looked after, was to (uhunire learning and pcriK'finifp it to poslcritijf dreadin*:; to leave an illiterate ministry to the churc^hes, when our present ministers shall lie in the dust.'* They were not disappointed in their hopes. By the hiessin*; of Providence this little College, planted by their hands, and nursed by their care, has flourished. Already she counts nearly six thousand in her matriculations. She still stands erect, in the midst of her offsprin";, clothed with her ancient glory, and matron dignity, and lovelier by her age. Our hearts still yearn towards her ; our thoughts still kindle at her praise ; our prayers still rise for her prosperity. We may smile at the early charge made b^' the royal commissioners, that * it may be feared this College may afford us many schismatics to the church.' f But we proudly proclaim their reluctant confession, that by her means there was * a scholar to their minister in every town or village' of Massachusetts. J But the truest glory of our forefathers is in that system of public instruction, which they instituted by law, and to which New-England owes more of its character, its distinction, and its prosperity, than • 1 Hist. Collect. 240. t 3 Hutch. Collect. 421. X Id. 413. 65 to all other causes. If this Hystcm hv not altogether without example in the history of other nations (as 1 suspect in its structure and extent it is), it is, con- sidering the age and means of the projectors, an extraordinary instance of wise legislation, and wor- thy of the most profound statesmen of any times. At the distance of centuries it stands alone and unrivalled. Europe has not ventured as yet to copy its outlines ; nor could they he copied in a despotism without undei*mining its foundations. England her- self, where letters and learning have so Ion ,' held the highest rank, Is but just beginning to think se- riously of a system of national instruction ; and her statesmen are now gathering admiration at home for schemes of public education, far, very far short of what her own poor, feeble, neglected colony estab- lished at the starting point of its political existence Yes — it was in this system of public instruction, that our fathers laid the foundat on for the perpetuity of our institutions, and for that growth of sound morals, industry, and public spirit, which has never yet been wanting in New-England, and, we may fondly hope, will for ever remain her appropriate praise. Yes — in the year 1647 they ordered every township of fifty householders to maintain a public s* hool at public expense ; and every township of one hundred householders to maintain in like manner a grammar school, to instruct youth and fit them for the University, * to the end,' say they, in this memorable law, * to the end, that learning may not be buried in the graves of our forefathers, in church and commonwealth.' And this was done by them, when they had just made 9 66 i*^ their first lodgment in the wilderness ; when they had scarcely found leisure to build, I do not say, fair dwellings, but humble cottages for their own shelter and safety. When they were poor and unprotected, persecuted and in peril — they could then look forward with a noble disregard of present enjoyments, and forgetting themselves, provide the bread of life for their posterity. This system has never been broken in upon ; it still stands in its substance on the pages of our statute book, an enduring record of wisdom and patriotism. Under its blessed influence our youth have grown up. They have received early instruc- tion in their rights and liberties, and (as the law itself requires) * not only in sound literature, but in sound doctrine.' It is here, that industry has learn- ed the value of its own labors ; that genius has triumphed over the discouragements of poverty ; that skill has given polish as well as strength to talent ; that a lofty spirit of independence has been nourished and sustained ; that the first great lesson of human improvement has been taught, that knowl- edge is power ; aiid the last great lesson of human experience felt, that without virtue there is neither happiness nor safety. I know not what more munificent donation any government can bestow, than by providing instruc- tion at the public expense, not as a scheme of charity, but of municipal policy. If a private person deserves the applause of all good men, who founds a single hospital or college, how much more are they entitled to the appellation of public benefactors, who by the side of every church in every village plant a school 67 of letters. Other monuments of the art and genius of man may perish ; but these from their very nature seem, as far as human foresight can go, absolutely immortal. The triumphal arches of other days have fallen ; the sculptured columns have crumbled into dust ; the temples of taste and religion have sunk into decay ; the pyramids themselves seem but mighty sepulchres hastening to the same oblivion, to which the dead they cover have long since passed. But here, every successive generation becomes a living memorial of our public schools, and a living example of their excellence. Never, never may this glorious institution be abandoned or betrayed by the weakness of its friends, or the power of its adversaries. It can scarcely be abandoned or be- trayed, while New-England remains free, and her representatives are true to their trust. It must for ever count in its defence a majority of all those, who ought to influence public affairs by their virtues or their talents ; for it must be, that here they first felt the divinity of knowledge stir within them. What consolation can be higher, what reflection prouder, than the thought, that in weal and in woe our chil- dren are under the public guardianship, and may here gather the fruits of that learning, which ripens for eternity. ' There is another topic connected with the settle- ment of this country, which may not be passed over upon this occasion. At the very threshold of the enterprise, a nice question, both in morals and public law, must have presented itself to the consideration of conscientious minds. How far was it lawful to i 68 3 St.! to people this western world, and deprive the Indians from that exclusive sovereignty over the soil, which they had exercised for ages beyond the reach of human tradition ? Men of deep reflection, and es- pecially men who felt a serious religious accounta- bility for their conduct, could not be presumed to pass over such a subject without weighing it with scrupulous delicacy. It did not escape the attention of our forefathers. They met it, and discussed it with a manly freedom ; they sought neither to dis- guise their own opinions, nor to conceal the real difficulties of the inquiry. In ascending to the great principles, upon which all human society rests, it must be admitted, that there are some, which are of eternal obligation, and arise from our relations to each other, and our com- mon dependence upon our Creator. Among these are the duty to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly before God. There are others again, which are merely founded in general convenience, and presuppose some regulations of society, or con- ventional law. The rights belonging to this latter class are coextensive only with the nations, which recognise them ; and in a general sense cannot be deemed obligatory upon the rest of the world. The plain reason is, that no portion of mankind has any authority delegated to it by the Creator to legislate for, or bind, all the rest. The very equality of original rights, which every argument presupposes, excludes the notion of any authority to control those rights, unless it is derived by grant or surrender, so as to bind others in conscience and abstract justice. 69 We are told in the Scriptures, that in the begin- ning God gave man dominion over the earth, and commanded him to replenish and subdue it ; and this has been justly said to be the true and solid foundation of man's dominion over it.* But this principle does not lead to the conclusion, that any particular person may acquire to himself a permanent and exclusive interest in the soil ; much less, that any single nation may appropriate to itself as much of the surface as it shall choose, and thus narrow down the common inheritance, and exclude all others from any participation in its products for the supply of their own wants. If any right can be deduced from this general grant of dominion to man, it is of a far more limited nature ; the right to occupy what we possess during the time of possession, the right of mere present enjoyment ; which seems to flow as much from the consideration, that no one can show a better right to displace us, as from the considera- tion, that it affords the only means of any enjoyment. But where shall we find, independently of maxims derived from society, the right of any nation to ex- clude others from cultivating the soil, which it does not itself choose to cultivate, but which may be in- dispensable to supply the necessities of others 1 Where is the principle, which withdraws from the common inheritance, and gives to a few, what the bounty of God has provided for all ? The truth is (though it is a truth rarely brought into discus- sion among civilized nations), that exclusive sove- * 2 BI. Com. 2. 70 reignty and ownership of the soil, is a derivative right, resting upon municipal regulations and the public law of society, and obtaining its whole valid- ity from the recognitions of the communities, which it binds, and the arm of power, which encircles and protects it. It is a right founded upon the soundest policy, and has conduced, more than almost any human achievement, to create the virtues which strengthen, and the refinement > which grace civil- ized Hfe. But if general consent should abolish it tomorrow, it would be difficult to say, that a return to the patriarchal or pastoral state of nations, and the community of property, would be any departure from natural right. When this continent was first discovered, it be- came an object of cupidity to the ambition of many of the nations of Europe. Each eagerly sought to appropriate it to itself. But it was obvious, that in the mutual struggle for power, contests of the most san- guinary nature would soon intervene, if some general principle were not adopted by the consent of all for the government of all. The most flexible and con- venient principle, which occurred, was, that the first discovery should confer upon the nation of the dis- coverer an exclusive right to the soil, for the pur- poses of sovereignty and settlement. This principle was accordingly adopted,* and became a fundamental doctrine in the code of legal ethics, by which the European governments regulated their acquisitions. No European subject was permitted to interfere with it, and the possession acquired under it was deemed absolute and unquestionable. In respect to i-^-ffaiin-- 71 desert places, the principle, as one of peace and equality of benefits, is not perhaps obnoxious to censure. But in respect to countries already inhab- ited, neither its general justice, nor its conformity to public law, entitles it to commendation. If, ab- stractedly considered, mere discovery could confer any title, the natives already possessed it by such prior discovery. If this were put aside, and mere possession could confer sovereignty, they had that possession, and were entitled to the sovereignty. In she t, it is clear, that upon the principles generally recognised by European nations, as between them- selves, the natives could not be rightfully displaced. And if they were not entitled to the benefit of those principles, they might still stand upon the eternal laws of natural justice, and maintain their right to share in the common inheritance. Such a conclu- sion could not escape the sagacity of the statesmen and princes of the old world ; but it was quite too refined to satisfy their ambition and lust of dominion. It was easy to found an argument for the expulsion of the natives upon their infidelity and barbarism, which allowed them to be treated as the enemies of God. It was still more plausible to hold out the prospect of converting them to the Christian faith, and thus to secure a new triumph to civilization and the cross. If their territory was invaded, and their governments were overthrown, if tii°y were compel- led to yield to the superior genius and power of Europe, they would still receive an ample compen- sation in their admission into the bosom of European society with its privileges and improvements. Such I h^ ■^i W'- 72 were some of the su^^estionjj, bv which royal am- bition sought to disguise its real objects, and to re- concile to religion itself the spirit of conquest It is but justice, however, to add, that there was no public avowal, that the natives possessed no right whatsoever. On the contrary it v as conceded, that they possessed a present riubt of occupancy, ten\- porary, indeed, and limited, which might be surren- dered to the discovering nation, and in the mean time was entitled to respect. Our fon^fathers did not attempt to justify their own emigration and settlement, upon the European doctrine of the light of discovery. Their patejit from the Crown contijned a tyrant jf this right; but they felt that there was a more jijeneral question behind. * What warrant have we to take that land, which is, and hath been of long time possessed by others, the sons of Adam?* Their answer is memorable for its clearness, streiigth, and bold assertion of princi- ples. That which is common to all (said they) is proper lo none. This savage people ruleth over many land- without title or property. Why may not Christians have liberty to go and dwell amongst them in their waste lands ? God hath given to the sons ot men a two- fold right to the earth. There is a natural right and a civil right. The first right was natural, when men held the earth in common. When afterwards they appropriated some parcels of ground, by enclosing and peculiar manurance, this in time got them a civil right. There is more than enough land for us and them. God hath consumed them with a mirriculous plague, whereby the greater vs 73 part of fhr country is left void of inh.i hitiuifs. Be- sides, wo s hal! come in with tli e ^^o()(l leavt; of the natives. * Such arf^uments were certainly not uu- worthy of men of scrupulous virtue. They were aided by higher considerations, by the desire to propagate Christianity among the Indians ; a desire, 's bich is breathed forth in their confidential papers, ii; their domestic letters, in their private prayers, and in their public devotions. In this object they were not only sincere, but constant. So sincere and so constant, that one of the grave accusations against them has been, that in their religious zeal, they com- pelled the Indians, by penalties, to attend public worship, and allured them, by pi-esents, to abandon their infidelity, f In truth, the propagation of Chris- tianity was a leading motive with many of the early promoters of the setdement ; and we need no better proof of it, than the establishment of an Indian school at Harvard College to teach them the rudiments of Christian faith. Whatever, then, may have been the case in other parts of the continent, it is a fact, and it should not be forgotten, that our forefathers never attempted to displace the nations by force, upon any pretence of European right. They occupied and cultivated what was obtained by grant, or was found vacant. They constantly respected the Indians in their set- tlements and claims of soil. They protected them from their enemies, when they sought refuge among them. They stimulated no wars for their extermi- * 3 Hutch. Collect. 30, 31 . 10 t 3 Hutch. Collect. 2S, 32, 420, AW. ¥ 71 nation. Dunnf^? the spare; of fifty years, hut a single case of serious warfare occurred ; and though wc cannot hut lament the cruelties then perpetrated, there is no pretence, that they were the aggressors in the contest. Whatever complaints, therefore, may be justly urged by philosophy, or humanity, or reli- gion, in our day, respecting the wrongs and injuries of the Indians, they scarcely touch the Pilgrims of New-England. Their hands were not imbrued in innocent blood. Their hearts were not heavy with crimes and oppressions engendered by avarice. If they were not wholly without blame, they were not deep in guilt. They might mistake the time, or the mode of christianizing and civilizing the Indians ; but they did not seek pretences to extirpate them. Private hostilities and butcheries there might be ; but they were not encouraged or justified by the government. It is not, then, a just reproach, some- times cast on their memories, that their religion narrowed down its charities to Christians only ; and forgot, and despised, and oppressed these forlorn children of the forest. There is, indeed, in the fate of these unfortunate beings, much to awaken our sympathy, and much to disturb the sobriety of our judgment ; much which may be urged to excuse their own atrocities ; much in their characters, which betrays us into an invol- untary admiration. What can be more melancholy than their history ? By a law of their nature, they seem destined to a slow, but sure extinction. Every where at the approach of the white man they fade away. We hear the rustling of their footsteps, like 76 that of tho withered leaves of autumn, and \\\vy are for The illy hy a th( lass mournli return no more. Two centuries ago, the smoke of their wigwams and the fires of their councils rose in every valley from Hudson's Bay to the farthest Florida, from the ocean to the Mississippi and the lakes. The shouts of victory and the war-dance rung through the mountains and the glades. The thick arrows and the deadly tomahawk whistled through the forests ; and the hunter's trace, and the dark encampment startled the wild beasts in their lairs. The warriors stood forth in their glory. The young listened to the songs of other days. The mothers played with their infants, and gazed on the scene with warm hopes of the future. The aged sat down ; but they wept not. They should soon be at rest in fairer regions, where the Great Spirit dwelt, in a home prepared for the brave beyond the wes- tern skies. Braver men never lived ; truer men never drew the bow. They had courage, and forti- tude, and sagacity, and perseverance, beyond most of the human race. They shrunk from no dangers, and they feared no hardships. If they had the vices of savage life, they had the virtues also. They were true to their country, their friends, and their homes. If they forgave not injury, neither did they forget kindness. If their vengeance was terrible, their fidehty and generosity were un- conquerable also. Their love, like their hate, stop- ped not on this side of the grave. But where are they ? Where are the villages, and warriors, and youth ? The sachems and the tribes ? The hunt- 7(1 r I ers and their families? They have [xrished. They are consumed. The wasting pcstilenee has not alone done the mighty work. No, — nor famine, nor war. There has been a mightier power, a moral ranker, which hath eaten into their heart-cores — a plague which the touch of the. wh'iU", man communicated — a poison, which betrayed them into a lingering niin. The winds of the Atlantic fan not a single region, which they may now call their own. Already the last feeble remnants of the race ari^ preparing for their journey beyond the Mississippi. I see them leave their miserable homes, the aged, the hc^lpless, the women, and the warriors, • few and faint, yet fearless still.' The ashes are cold on their native hearths. The smoke no longer curls round their lowly cabins. They move m with a slow, unsteady step. The white man is upon their heels, for terror or despatch ; but they heed him not. They turn to take a last look of their deserted villages. They cast a last glance upon the graves of their fathers. They shed no tears ; they utter no cries ; they heave no groans. There is something in their hearts, which passes speech. There is something in their looks, not of vengeance or submission ; but of hard necessity, which stifles both ; which choaks all utter- ance ; which has no aim or method. It is courage absorbed in despair. They linger but for a moment. Their look is onward. They have passed the fatal stream. It shall never be repassed by them, — no, never. Yet there lies not between us and them, an impassable gulf. They know, and fi ol, that there is for them still one remove farther, not distant, nor T7 un8*«'ri. It i> fn the ^cniTiU hnrijil-^nnind of thtir race. Reason as wv may, it is im[K)ssible not to reail in such a fate, m?Jch, that we know not how to inter- pret ; much of provocation to cruel tleeds and tUcp resentments ; much of apoloj^y for wron^ and |)er- fuly ; mu( h of pity min^linj^^ with indij^natiun ; much of doubt and misgiving as to the j)ast ; much of pain- ful recollections ; much of dark forebodin»^. Philosophy may tell us, that contpiest in other cases has adopted the conquered into its own bosom ; and thus at no distant period given them the com- mon privileges of subjects ; — but that the red men are incapable of such an assimilation. By their very nature and character they can neither unite them- selves with civil institutions, nor with safety be al- lowed to remain as distinct communities. Policy may suggest, that their ferocious passions, their in- dependent spirit, and their wandering life disdain the restraints of society ; that they will submit to su- perior force only, while it chains them to the earth by its pressure. A wilderness is essential to their habits and pursuits. They can neither be tamed nor overawed. They subsist by war or hunting ; and the game of the forest is relinquished only for the nobler game of man. The question, therefore, is necessarily reduced to the consideration, whelhcr the country itself shall be abandoned by civi!i/:< d man, or maintained by his sword as the right of the strongest. It may be so ; perhaps, in the wisdom of Provi- dence, it must be so. I pretend not to comprehend, 7« or solve, siwh wci'^hty !oj)hy nor policy can shut out the feelings of nature. Iluiiianify must continue to sigh at the con- stant sarrilices of this hold, but wasting race. And Religion, if she may not blush at the deed, must, as slu; sees the successive victims depart, cling to the altar with a drooping heart, and mourn over a des- tiny without hope and without example./ Let our consolation be, that our forefathers did not precipitate the evil days. Their aim w is peace ; their object was the propagation of Christianity. There is one other circumstance in the history of the Colony, which deserves attention, because it has afforded a theme for bitter sarcasm and harsh re- proach ; and as the principal scenes of the tragedy took place on this very spot, this seems a fit occasion to rescue the character of our forefathers from the wanton attacks of the scolter and the satirist. I al- lude to the memorable trials for witchcraft in this town in 1 692, which terminated in the death of many innocent persons, partly from blind credulity and partly from overwhelming fraud. The whole of these proceedings exhibit melancholy proofs of the effect of superstition in darkening the mind, and steeling the heart against the dictates of humanity. Indeed, nothing has ever been found more vindictive and cruel than fanaticism, acting under the influence of preternatural terror, and assuming to punish offences created by its own gloomy reveries. Under such circumstances it becomes itself the very demon, whose agency it seeks to destroy. It loses sight of all the common })riiiciples of reason and evidence. 79 It s<;c.s nothing; iiroiind it but victims lor sacrit'ici;. Ir h(!;irM nolhiiii; but the voire of its own vcii^^i'uiice. It bt'lii'ves nothiiyn but what in nioiistrou.s and iii- rrcdiblc. It conjures up every plKiiitoni of supiT- stition, and shapes it to the living; form of its own passions and frenzies. In short, insanity eoulil hardly devise more rclineiTienls in barbarity, or prolli^acy execute them with more malij^nant coohiess. In the wretched butcheries of these times (for so they in fact were), in which law and reason were ctpially set at defiance, we have shocking instances of un- natural conduct. We find parents accusing their children, children their parents, and wives their hus- bands, of a crime, which must brinp; them to the scaffold. We find innocent persons, misled by the hope of pardon, or wrought up to frenzy by the pre- tended sufferings of others, freely accusing them- selves of the same crime. We find gross })erjury practised to procure condemnations, sometimes for self-protection, and sometimes from utter reckless- ness of consequences. We find even religion itself made an instrument of vengeance. We find minis- ters of the gospel and judges of the land stimulating the work of persecution, until at last in its progress its desolations reached their own fire-sides.* And yet, dark and sad as is this picture, it furnish- es no just reproach upon this ancient town, beyond what belongs to it in common with all New-England, and, indeed, with all Christendom. Thirty years before this period there had been executions for * 2 Hutch. Hist. IG to 60, &c. HO ? witchcrart 'u\ this and other colonies, in Charlestown, Boston, S}-.rin^lieKl, and Hartt'ord. It has been just- ly observed by an intelligent historian,* that the im- portance ^ivQii to the ew-England trials proceeded more from the general panic, than from the number executed, * more having been put to death in a single county in England, in r^ short space of time, than have suffered in all New-England from the first set- tlement to the present time.* Our forefathers were sincere believers in the reality of witchcraft ; and the same opinion then prevailed throughout all Europe. The possibility, nay, the ac- tual existence of a commerce with evil spirits, has liad in its support the belief of many enlightened nations of the world. Mr. Justice Blackstone has not scrupled to declare, that to deny it * is at once flatly to contradict the revealed word of God in va- rious passages both of the Old and New Testament.' f I meddle net with this matter of controversial divinity. But it is certain, that from the earliest times it has been punished as a crime in all Christian countries, and generally, as a mark of peculiar horror and de- testation, wi^h death. Such was its punishment in England at the time of the emigration of our ances- tors ; and such it continued to be until the reign of George the Second. Surely, when we read of con- victions before so mild and enlightened a judge, as Sir Matthew Hale, it should excite no surprise, that our own judges were not superior to the delusion ; that they possessed not a wisdom beyond the law, * 2 Ildtch. Hint. 15, IG t I HI. Com. 60 ; 3 Inst. 43. 81 nor a power to resist the general credulity, ^^y Lord Coke, in the siinplieity of his own hehef, loads witches witii the most opprobrious epitliets, as * hor- rible, devilish, and wicked oU'enders;'* and the Parliament ol" king Jame^ the First has enumeratetl, in studied detail, divers modes of conjuration and enchantment, upon which it has inilicted the punish- ment of death. f Lord J3acon has lent the credit of his own great name to preserve some of the wonders and ointments of witchcraft, with sundry wholesome restrictions upon our belief of their ellicacy.J And we have high authority for saying, that ' it became a science, every where much studied and cultivated, to distinguish a true witch by proper trials and symptoms.' § We may lament, then, the errors of the times, which led to these persecutions. But surely our ancestors had no special reasons for shame in a be- lief, which had the universal sanction of their own and all former ages ; which counted in its train phi- losophers, as well as enthusiasts ; which was graced by the learning of prelates, as well as the counte- nance of kings ; which the lav/ supported by its mandates, and the purest judges felt no compunc- tions in enforcing. Let Witch Hill remain for ever memora])lc by this sad catastrophe, not to perpetuate our dishonor, but as an aiTecting, enduring proof of human infirmity; a proof, that perfect justice belongs to one Judgment-seat only, that which is linked to the Throne of God. * 3 [n*t. 44. t H'iJ. 4f, 45. § 7 Hume's HUt. 18.;. 11 t 2 IJacon's "Works, 27, 45, 6<). 82 T'iitk; would \\\\] mo to 2;o at lan^r into the history of New-Kii^laiul, and my own streni^tlj, as wcdl as your pationcc, is far spent. Vet it should not be concealed, that we have a proud consciousness of the spirit and principles of our fathers throughout every ])eriod of their colonial existence. At no time were they the advocates of passive obedience and non-resistance to rulers at home or abroad. At all times they insisted, that the ri^ht of taxation and the right of representation were inseparable in a free government ; and that on that account the power of taxation was vested exclusively in their own co- lonial legislature. At all times they connected them- selves, with a generous iidelity, to the fortunes of the mother country, and sliared the common burthens, and bore the common haixlships with cheerfulness. The sons of New-England were found in her ranks in battle, foremost in danger ; but, as is not unusual in colonial service, lates" in the rewards of vic- tory. An ante-revolutionary historian of unquestion- able accuracy has said, that ' in the course of sixty years the Province of Massachusetts hath been at a greater expense, and hath lost more of its inhabitants, than all the other colonies upon the continent taken together.' In the Indian wars, in the successive attacks upon the French colonies, and in the capture of Quebec and the Canadas, they bore an honorable and importatit part. Even when their first charter was vacated, their resistance to the arbitrary measures of Sir Edmund Andros was but a prelude to the principles and practice of the Revolution. 88 Of the memoraMe events of a later period ; of the resistanee to Brili>h oj)j)i\'ssioii ; of the jilorious war of Indepeiulence ; of tin; siil)> jtiULiit esiuhH.vliment of tlie nalioiKil