I THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, f ^^ # Princeton, N. J. ^ # ^ ■^!^e4, (Vision fUtsv, Shelf. c. *- L' 7?of>A-, (r** ' > y. 2^ y * * • • THE WORKS «4*,«fc OF 'IW / THE REV. DANIEL M'CALLA, D. D. PASTOR OT THE INDEPENDENT OR CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, IK THE PARISH OF Christ's chukch, sou iu-carolina. IN TWO VOLUMES. TO WHICH IS PREFIXED A FUNERAL DISCOURSE, COUtAIXISG A SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF THE AUTHOR, sr The rev. ivilliam hollinshead, v, d, VOL. 11. CHJRLESTOJV, (s.c.) PRINTED BY JOHN HOFF, NO. 6, BROAD-STREET. 1810, ^ DISTRICT OF SOUTH-CAROLINA, to wit: Be it Remembered, That on the twen.y-third day of Novcru- ber, in the thivty-fifth >ear of the Independence of the United States of America, A. D I81O, Dr Jnhn R. Witherspoon, of the said Dis- trict, has deposited in this office the title of a book the right whereof he claims as editor and proprietor, in the words following, to wit— *' The Works of the Rev Daniel M'Calla, d. d Pastor of the Inde- " pendent or Congregational Church, in the Parish of Christ's Church, «' in South-Carolina. ,n l\vo Volumes. To which is prefixed a Fu. " neral Discoiirse, containing a sketch of the Life and Character of " the Author, by the Rev. William HoUinshead, n. d." In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, iii» tituled, " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned."^ And also to the act, enti'led, •' An act supplementary to an act, entitled, ' An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies oi maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the time therein mentioned,' and extending the benefits thereof to the arts o( designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints;" JAMES JERVEY, Clerk of the district of South-Carolina. \ Content^. VOLUME SECOND. Remarks on the Theatre, and Public Amusements, 0?2 the Theatre, - page 5 0?i Public amusements^ - 11 On the Theatre^ - - 17 Ibid^ - - - 25 Ibid^ - - - 34 On Public amusements^ - 43 On the Theatre^ - - 51 Ibid^ - - - 60 Ibid^ and the Preacher^ s Counsel^ 72 Ibid, 77 No. 11. An address to Touth, - - 86 No. 12.. On the Thzatre, and Don jfuan, 90 No. 13. An address to the Public, - 96 Hints on Education, (in 14 Numbers,) 107 The Sovereignty of the People, (in 12 Nos.J 183 A Fair Stateme?it, (in 15 Numbers,) - 270 Appendix to ibid. — An address to Presideiit Adams, (in 3 Numbers,) - - 322 No. 1. No. 2. No. 3. No. 4. No. 5. No. 6. No. 7. No. 8. No. 9. No. 10. IV The Servility of Prejudice Displayed^ (9 Nos.) 348 Federal Sedition and Anti-Democracy^ (6 Nos.) 394 Findication oj' Mr. jfefferson, (i?i 2 Numbers.) 421 Tlie Retreat, a Poem. 43 5 RI#IARKS ON THE THEATRK, AND PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. ^pllianu^— on t^e Cftcatre— No. i. It is certainly a great unhappiness in the taste and inclinations of mankind, that they generally prefer amusement to instruction, and things of a vicious tendency to those of a virtuous. On this principle, many things have been contrived to dis- sipate thought and reflection, and to destroy the sense of moral obligation, in order to obviate the pain, and overcome the restraint arising from it. Among these expedients, nothing has been found better adapted to the purpose, than the entertain- ments of the stage. The stage, indeed, in its first institution, had. besides the design of entertainment, that of promot- ing sentiment also ; because, at that time, there were few books, and they only in the hands of a few men of leisure and iip.provement ; the bulk of the people had no means of private instruction. But necessary as plays then seemed to be, they were not admitted on the stage before they had vol. 2. B undergone examination by the magistrates, or some private person of approved knowledge or virtue. The Greeks, it is true, were not in several re- spects, a people of rigid virtue ; but, till their taste and manners became corrupted, tliey were care- ful that their public entertainments should be such, that a virtuous man might attend them, at least, without offence. As their tragedies were designed to excite ten- der sympathy, and the dread of atrocious crimes and their necessary punisi",me'its,tliey w^cre encou- raged and attended by some of tiieir most eminent philosophers, on the apprehension that these passions served to purify the mind. But, if any thing appeared in public that seemed contrary to this effect, it was publicly condemned — a circum- stance exceedingly necessary in tiie exhibition of most modern plays. Their comedies, which exhibited scenes of common life, were seldom attended by men of so- lid and distinguished improvement ; because they represented nothing of importance enough to en- gage tlie attention of men who observed the world, and saw every day something of the same kind ; and because they did not tend to move the higlier and more exalted passions. Socrates often attended the exhibition of a tragedy but would never see a comedy, unless it was the work of a particular friend, or that he went out of complai- sance to those who pressed him. His objection was, that comedies generally represented the lower scenes of life, with the passions and stniiments which occasioned them ; and were therefore ra- ther adapted TO depress than elevate the soul ; and too often they offended, by t: eir ridicule of serious and useful characters. Of the ill ( fPect of this, himself was a remarkable example : by the influ- ence oF a comedy, he lost his life; and that, too, the work of a man whose performances he had en- couraj^ed by his presence. It was a work equally offensive to God and good men; and I am in- clined to think, that much the smallest number of comedies, since the Clouds of Aristophanes, have been of a much better character and tendency. Some, it is acknowledged, have been composed with a batter intention ; but there are few whicli do not offend by the low and vulgar scenes they represent, tending to make vice and foily familiar, rather than odious. If the ancients, under the restraints laid upon the stage, so frequently erred, as we know they certainly did, the moderns have undoubtedly gone much farther, having a greater variety, both of vicious characters and scenes, with which to en- tertain the spectators. Without entering into a formal comparison of the theatrical works of the ancients with those of the moderns, or of the modems with oriC another, I venture to pronounce that, of all of them, whe- ther tragedies or comedies, the English arc the most hcentious and vicious. 1 speak now of those Vv^hich are usually brought upon the stage, be- cause there are some of British fabrication, both chaste and virtuous ; but these are generally such as will not suit the stage, having too much sentiment and too Httle action. Indeed, the design of attending on the theatre, is not to be instructed, but amused; to dissipate thought, drive away care, and obviate the irksomeness nf bearing time and anxious reflection. It is this alone v/hich draws the multitude to the tlieatre — a promiscu- ous multitude, who agree scarcely in a single point, except that they may have no serious or useful thought for the present distracted and tumultuous moment. Business, friends, justice and religion, must tliere be quite forgotten, that they may enjoy scenes which might be seen every day, in small or in great, whether of comedy or tragedy. The action, the scenery, the music, the buftoonery, the vociferation, for the present time, like a vortex, swallow up the attention ; the people there are the dupes of mimickry, affectation, and false ap- pearances. On the stage there is .no reality, ex- cept that chastity is often wounded, virtue slighted, ana religion ridiculed and brought into contempt. There is perhaps no scene upon earth, more truly trifling and ridiculous. As if intrigue, vicious amours, dishonor and flattery, cruelty and murder, were not frequent enough in real life, they are re- presented on the stage, in mere fiction, to enter- tain and divert mankind. This is the great school of virtue to which all sorts of people, high and low, rich and poor, re- sort for instruction m sentiment and virtue. But why do they need fiction to instruct them, when there is on every side, and every day, so much reality in every case which the stage can represent? Do the disciples of this pretended school of vir- tue wish their passions to be moved, and their sympathy excited with the too abundant sufferers of the world, they need never be at a loss for scenes which may well move them, and which it is the dictate of humanity to attend. Let them visit the suffering poor, in whose open decayed dwellings they may see, in this cold season, whole families shivering, hungry and naked, over a few coals, insuflicient, to warm and cherish them : let them repair to jails and work-houses, to sick and dying beds, where every thing may be seen to affect the tender passions ; where every sufferer acts his proper part, with sentiment and sorrov/, not ficti- tious, but real. li grief and sympathy, and dread of similar suffering, can purify the soul and inspire benevo- 10 lent and virtuous sentiments, it is from reality, and not representation, that we are to expect it ; and there are scenes sufficient for the purpose, if we wish to be improved by the views of human wretchedness. If the admirers and disciples of the stage wish to strengthen their love of virtue, and their dis- like of vice, why need they visit the theatre for this good purpose ! when every street, and lane, and wharf of Charleston, and every other popu- lous city, may aiford them scenes of mimickry, buffoonery, intrigue, chicanery, and every other vice that dishonors human nature, makes a man of feeling blush for the depravity of his species, and wish to find some retreat where he could for- get tlie follies and miseries of mankind. The stage a school of virtue ! It is a ridicule of virtue, it is an insult to common sense to call it such, wlien every man, acquainted with the his- tory of it, knows it not to be intended to inculcate virtue ; but is too generally productive of an ef- fect quite the reverse. It its advocates would honestly aclmowledge what themselvtrs must know, and what every man can at once see, that it is merely to divert, and has not for ages had any other intention, or been con- ducted to produce any other effect, they miglu be more readily pardoned : but when they set it up as a place to inculcate virtue, and promote the 11 serious designs of human life, it is so mere a pre- tension, that nothing can be more ridiculous. It is very remarkLible, that in most comedies, where a very good character appears, it is gene- rally above imitation ; aad a vicious one is com- monly viler in the representation than reality ; so that every thing is here distorted and extravagant. In short, whether we consider the theatre itself, the plays brought upon it, the characters of play- ers in general, and the effects on the sentiments and manners of people where the theatre is most frequented, it is in every view a pernicious thing. To support this, there are abundant topics of argument, which, in a proper time, will be farther prosecuted by Sylvanus. January 10, 1794. J^plbanu^— on ^mu^ement^— No. ir. That amusements are allowable and often ne- cessary, cannot be denied, on the principles of the most rigid virtue ; but that they are neither so ne- cessary nor innocent as the bulk of mankind seem to think, is equally true. It is in this case, as in most others, that men consult their inclinations rather than their reason and conscience ; and prefer a latitude of indul- gence, however inconvenient and pernicious, to 12 confinement and restraint, however needful and salutary : and to this principle may be ascribed almost all the errors of mankind, that render thera unhappy in themscdves and injurious to others. On the subject of amusements, the following ob- servations Will, I apprehend, comprize the most material rules for judging in what cases they may be lawfully and innocently used. 1. They ought never to disqualify us for use- ful thought and employment ; but should be used so as to render us more capable of both. We are placed in the world for serious purposes ; and no- thing can be innocent that renders us inattentive to them, or incapable of pursuing them. From this it results, 2. That amusements which greatly hurry and dissipate our thoughts, and which excite extrava- gant and discordant emotions, especially for a con- siderable length of time, are inj irious to the seri- ous designs of life ; because tlicy raise both our thoughts and passions above the controul of rea- son and the sense of duty, and tend to weaken the power of self-command, which, in every condition and at all tunes, is of the greatest necessity and im- portance. How difficult it ir. to k- ep the attention as fixed, our purposes as determined, and our passions as even as the state of life requires, at all times ; and especially how hard it is to recover this state of the mind, after it has been consider- 12 ably interrupted, must be known to every person who is engaged in serious pursuits. 3. When amusements are so long continued, or so frequently repeated, as to take up an undue proportion of uur time, encroaching on our proper employments and necessary duties, they arc un- lawful and hurtful. We have so many indispen- sable duties to perform, so short a time to perform them in, and so many unavoidable interruptions, that a small proportion of our time can be allowed to amusements, if v/e would wish to acquit our- selves honorably, and not incur the guilt of sacri- ficing reason and conscience to mere inclination and pleasure. 4. Wiien amusements tend to deprave the sense of virtue and religion, rendering us inattentive to them, or careless ol performing them, they are highly criminal and hurtful. Virtue and religion comprehend the whole of our obligations, and form the reasons on which every part of our corKluct is to be framed and directed. The regard to our own happiness, to the good of others, and to the will of God, comprehends every obligation. We are therefore not at liberty to indulge our inclina- tions in cases that may interfere with these duties. Every gratification, every purpose, and every plan of conduct, is to coincide with them. 5. Our amusements ought never to be so ez- pensive as to interfere with the discharge of our vol. 2. c 11 just debts, with the offices of charity to the neces- sitous, or with a prudent regard for our own com- fortable subsistence, or that of those immediately under our care. Agreeable to this rule, no man is at liberty to indulge his pleasures, when the price of them is the property of another; because it is a violation of the first iaw of justice, and breaks one of the strongest bonds of social life. When these demands are discharged, if any thing can be spared from our own necessities, the poor have undoubtedly a claim on us for a part — a claim, enforced both by our natural feelings, and the laws of our religion. To indulge, then, in un- necessary amusements, while others are suffering about us, and when what we thus expend, might relieve them from senile pressing want, is equally unchristian and inhumane. But besides our obli'^ gation in such a case, to a generous mhid tnere is an higher and more refined pleasure in relieving the distressed, than can arise fro.n any scene of amusement in which a man can be engaged. As to our personal wants, and those of our families and count- cuons, it is a first law of nature, reason and religion, to regard them so far as, at least, to be above suft'ering, and tlie need of bouniy. On this principle, if we give to mere amusements what ou^^ht to be applied to our veal wants, it is acting a part equally absurc^ and criminal. When a man can deny himself or lamily an articleof food* cloath- IS "ing, or any accommodation necessary to a com« fortable subsistence, for a gratification neither ne» cessary for the sabsistence nor soUd enjoyment of life, it is an argument of a mind that has made no just estimate of things, and of a tase for pleasure which has overcome the first sense of nature, and the first dictate of reason : and yet it is a case which very often occurs, to the reproach of human nature, and the detriment of society. To the preceding rules several others might have been added ; but as they are sufficient for the design of this essay, I will dismiss the subject for the present, after subjoining a few remarks, to point out the cases in vvhich^. amusements are chiefly, or only, necessary, and what kind are pro- per for the particular circumstances of those who need them. Amusements are necessary chiefly, or only, for the busy, the infirm and dejected, or the aged. Men of business may be divided into those whose employments require much action and but little thought, or much action and thoug it toge- ther, or much thought only. In the first case, rest is the most proper and necessary relaxation, as the mind is supposed to have been fatigued. In the second ';^se, where the mind is supposed to have been wearied by too much thought, as well as the body exhausted by too much action — for the laiter rest is necessarv, and the amusements such as will 16 unbind, and refresh the former. In this case^ pleasant company and conversation, or music, or books of innocent entertainment, liistory, travels, geography, and other compositions that do not re- quire very close attention, are the proper and the best amusements. If the employment is seden- tary, without intense thought, as ni n any mechani- cal engagements, the amusement should be action, walking, nding, and oilier exercises which give vigor to the benumbed powers of the body. If the employment be sedentary, and requires intense thought and study, the amusements proper in this case are, for the body, brisk and lively action, and a diversion of thckhoughts to subjects of a fami- liar and cheerful kind. Nort to action, are pleas- nnt conversation, music, and books that entertain and improve without fatiguing the attention. As to the infirm, dejected and aged, such action as the body will bear without fatigue, variety of objects that do not distract the attention, or too long keep it up, agreeable company, and whatever may inno- cently draw off the thoughts fr(;m their weak- nesses and sufferings, arc proper and necessary. I have not mentioned the indolent, who either have no business to do, or will not do it ; for them, the best and most proper amusement would-be such employ-ment as would occupy their attention, and give action to their bodies. For the pleasurable 17 and dissipated, I would prescribe the same recrea- tion, or solitude and study. How far the entertainments of the stage are reconcileable with the preceding rule-, and obser- vations, will be the subject of another paper, wh^ch will appear when opportunity serves. Sylvanus. ^pKbanu^— on tSe €Seatt:e— No. iir. sin Efiistle from a discifile of Thalia, to a certain Preaches^ « HYPOCRISY'S son, No more of your fun, A truce with fanatical raving — Why censure the Stage ? 'Tis known to the age, That both of us thrive by deceiving. 'Tis frequently said, That two of a trade Will boldly each other bespatter: But, trust me, they're fools, Who play with edg'd tools— So let's have no more of the matter." City Gazette— -/i-om the Boston CentineU I SHOULD not have deigned to take notice of this mean scrap of doggrel, but that it aifurds a •direct argument in favor of what I have advanced against the general character and tendency of the stage. Conscious that it is incapable of being defended by fair reasoning, its advocates, and especially the 18 players, have no other means of recommencling Tt to the popular taste, than ridicule of seriousness; which they find, by experience, is that alone which can support it. To represent all pretensions to sobriety and religion, as mere hypocrisy and fanaticism, words of great consequence to players, so- well takes with the depraved taste of mankind, that it is better understood and more sensibly felt, by the vulgar, than any possible arguments from reason, religion, or public utility. Hypocrisy is a term that has ever been successfully employed against religion and good manners; it has been made the pretext and engine of vice, but is never employed by the friends and advocates of virtue, in any oth:;r ca.use than the good of mankind — not to foster depravit)'", but to discourage it. This very term, however,- so favor:: ble to the interests of the stage, originally belonged to itself. The first players Vv-ere masked; and in this situation they were called Hypijcrites, that is, men wearing a mask : so that all tiie reproach of the word falls upon themselves. When most in cha- racter, they are most hypocritical ; and if decep- tion be mean and criminal, there are no men more so than themselves, because this is their profes- sion. But these words, in the months of the play, ers. have a more serious impt^rt : wh.en applied to preachers, they do not mean so much the men as the office. To bring this into discredit, is much more to their puri ose, than to weaken the influ- ence of a few individuals. But is it possible to produce an instance of greater depravity and hostiUty to mankind, than to aim at reproaching an office, wliich has for its immediate object, the greatest possible good ? — an office, too, which has been honored and encou- raged by the greatest and best men that the world has ever seen — an office, which has been filled by the first geniuses and most accomplished charac- ters that have appeared among men. Is it liber- ality, is it honor, is it justice, to charge that to hy- pocrisy, which the worthiest and most amiable of mankind have undertaken on principles of benevo- lence and piety ? It has, even among heathens as well as christians, been a maxim — Tliat to endea- vor to discredit the professed advocates and officers of religion, is an argument of the highest degree of human depravity. But this is the main and principal artifice of the disciples of Thalia. Indeed, this kind of men, being engaged in what has ever been deemed a disreputable em- ployment, are obliged to use the meanest and m^^st disreputable methods of keeping themselves in business. But let us see how far the charges of hypo- crisy and fanaticism are to go. Pri^acners, no doubt, must unavoidabl} , and m justice, fall under it; because, how can it be supposed that a preacher can find fauh with the stage, and be an honest and sincere man, the real friend of virtue and human happiness ? Be it so, as the virtuous disciples of the chaste and religious Thalia would have it, that all preachers, when they oppose the stage, are hypocrites and fanatical ravers, yet certainly there must be sincerity somewhere in the world ; and as tne players claim the honor of being sin- cerely vicious, there may be those also who are sincerely virtuous. Were Socrates, Plato and Plutarch hypocrites and fanatical ravers, because they condemned the Grecian stage as having become " the school of vice, and all criminal passions ?" Was Quintilian,* the most accomplished scho- lar and critic amongst the Romans, a hypocrite and fanatic, when he says that "tl.e music of the stage had effeminated, by its obscenities, what liitle manliness remained among them." Passing by other celebrated writers among the Romans who have left the same indelible reproach upon the stage, let me mention, among the mo- dern French, the most excellent, modest, and accomplished RoUin. Speaking of the music of the French stage, he says, " which, by its eifeminate and wanton airs. • In the first century. has given the last wound to the little manly for^ee and virtue that remained among us " Was not Rollin an arrant hypocrite and fanatical raver ? But, let us hear Le Pluche,! as modest, philo- sophical and elegant a writer as modern times have produced. Speaking of the taste and application of the ancient mythology, he says — " I content myself witii saying, that the habit of busying one's self upon loose and imaginary objects, enervates the mind, renders it trifling, and subject almost to an incurable imbecility. A man taken up with fictions- and metamorphoses, is so much accustomed to the most incredible ideas, that things barely rea« sonable, appear to him cold and lifeless. He con- tracts an irreverence for truth ; the simplicity of nature becomes distasteful to him, and reasun no longer maintains any influence on his mind, or at least is much abridged of its authority and its pri- vileges. The truth of what I advance may be found in the trifling characters of those who assi- duously frequent p\iblic shews, and are much taken up with balls and plays." He says a little after, ''a disgust for what is sound, is the necessary effects of theatrical fable and enchantment.'* Speaking on the same subject,he farther adds— that " they are at mighty cost to retain our hearts t A Frenchman. VOL. 2. D 22 in a spirit of irreligion, and our minds in a conti- nual series of wanton sports, whose result must needs be an idle puerility thai weakens our char- acter, enfeebles our talents, and, by giving us a disgust for our duties, entirely ruins the reality of them." Hist. Poet. Heavms, Fol. 2. To these severe and pointed charges against the stage, by the best and most accomplished of mankind, I could easily add others sufficient to fill a volume ; but these shall suffice for the present. Let me now ask, whether it is decent, honor- able, and virtuous, to charge such men as those from whom I have now quoted, with hypocrisy and fanatical raving? A thousand players put into the scales, will not weigh agaij:st ore such man — one oi whose volumes has doiiC more to accum- plish mankind in knowledge and virtuous senti- ment, than all that the players have performed, from Euripides * to the present time. The disciple of Thalia says — • " Btlievc me, thev'ie fools, That p)ay with edg'd tools"— They are so : and the greatest of all are those, who unsheath sharp weapons that may be turned against themselves. Yet this is the case with tlie disciples of the chaste and admirable Thalia. This unblemished lady has omitted, among all her • Five hundred years before Christ. 2S instructions, to teach her disciples decency and good manners, and to know how to defend thcmr selves and her with good argument. There is nothing in the world betrays the badness of a. cause more, than the using reproachful and vilify- ing terms; it sinks men beluw notice and argu- ment, if the cause of truth and virtue did not re- quire that the meanest opponent to them should sometimes be answered. The players have no doubt inserted this despi- cable attempt at poetry and -defamation, with the same design with wiiich it was put together. They are very welcome to produce as many such precious examples of their true character, as they please : they will bj properly noticed, not out of respect to such people, bat from regard to the cause of truth. Let them know, there is an ample fund of materials from which to draw, as often as the public good shall seem to require. This ami;Able and most poetical disciple of Thalia concludes, with saying, * *' So let's have no more of the maltcr." Undoubtedly, we are to be silent, whenever this kind of people think they have confuted us, or ci'iuse to make the simple believe they have done so. But the friends of virtue, decency, and good manners, I hope, will never be deterred from supporting what txiey judge necessary to the good of mankind, or arguing against what they deem vicious and hurtful, by any thing which such a class of men think proper to produce in support of a forlorn and hopeless cause. If they determine to pursue an occupation that has been generally deemed among the most disre- putable in the world, let them, at least, cease their attempts to discredit the chief and most direct means of human happiness. If they can maintain themselves by no other means, than those which are used to the great detriment of mankind, let them forbear to re- proach and dishonor those which have ever been the most high m the estimation of good sense and virtue. It is the strongest mark of human depravity to wish to color vice with the semblance of virtue^ and to ruin mankind with the promises of making them happy- Sylvanu?. N. B. This paper anticipates two others, be* ing inserted by particular desire. January 14, 1794: 25 ou are strongly affected with horror, grief, or sympathy; the subject and action are qiuckly changed, and you are thrown into the opp -site extreme of merriment and laughter: and this combination and contrast of cha- racter and passion is common in the most celebrat- ed plays that arc broughc upon the stage — in none 27 saore than Shakespeare himself. This mav an- swer the end of tlie play writers and players, both of whom have the same objects in view, interest and reputation: but it is very illy suited to qualify the mind for serious employment. I will only- remark under this article, that the higher the en- tertainment is, for the time, the more injurious it is for the purpose above-mentioned; becau^e. as far as the mind has been raised above the point of moderation, during the entertainment, it will sink below it when that is over — a circumstance entire- ly opposite to the design of recreation, which should always leave us in a state more refreshed and capable of our duties than wiien we btgan it. Agreeable to tliese remarks, I have known peo- ple, after attending a play, quite incapable of their business for tv/o or three days. Their attention was so dissipated or over-strained by the entertain- ment, and tlieir w^hole thoughts still so occupied, that they cuuld neither recover their inclination or capacity for business. This effect, I allow, will in some measure wear off by custom, and many, through mere habit, may attend the theatre after they cease fo be strongly affected: but tins very circumstance is a proof that the entertainment ceases to be rational, and people repair to it, in this case, merely because they do not know otherwise how to dispose of themselves. This leads me to remark — 28 2. That the entertainments of the stage arc calculated to take up too much of our time to favor the serious designs of life. With many people, I am sensible that this is a consideration of very Httle moment; but with those who consider the state of human life, and the small portion of it that can be spared from the variety of duties incumbent on us, time will appear an article of the highest importance. In the management of our amusements, it is a very necessary rule, that they sliould neither be so long continued at once, nor so often repeated as to infringe upon our indispensible duties. They ought, indeed, to be continued as long as the state of our bodies or minds require to recover their proper tone, and repeated as often as the same circumstance makes necessary. Of this, everv one is to be a judge for himself; and it is a happiness to be able to make this judgment right, and act agreeable to it. I do not now speak of those who have nothing to do, or are indisposed to employment, and whose time consequently lies like a dead weigUt upon them, and obliges them to locjk out fur continual variety to get rid of thtir burden: tney may as well, perhaps, attend the theatre, as any other enter: ain- ment to which taeir feelings may prompt them. This, indeed, is but a momentary relief, and so would be any other amusement. 29 To those, however, whose circumstances ob- lige them to apply to business, or who think it necessary in a serious view of life, it is of great moment to know how much of their time ought to be allotted to recreation, and what may best answer the purp 'se. Recreations, infringe on our time when we are anxious for them beforehand; when taey are con- tinued longer at once, or are more frequently re- peated than is necessary or useful for their pro- per intention; and when they occupy so much of our attention after >vards, as interferes with the re- gard due to subjects of indispensable obligation and concern. All these cases, I believe, happen to most people who frequent the theatre; and, per- haps, in no other amusements so certainly, and to so great a degree. It is the business of the play- ers to consult, as much as possible, the taste for novelty, so strong in the human mind, and there- fore to vary their scenes and characters as fre- quently as they can find them suited to their pur- poses, and prepare them for appearing; and this circumstance, more than any other, succeeds in drawing great numbers to the theatre, and main- taining the occupation of playing. The expectation of something new every night, una -oidably pre-occupies the attention, and either quite withdraws it from other subjects before they ought to be dismissed, or so interrupts it as to de- VOL. 2 E 30 fraud them of their due proportion; from which it must frequently happen, that some personal con- cern is delayed or left unfinished till another time; and this will especially happen to the young and volatile, and to all whose tasie for amusement is continual and intense. In additioi to this, the en- tertainment is prolonged farther than the purpose of recreation can generally require. Two or three hours at the theatre, at once, is much more than can be either necessary or useful for the most who attend it. It is in every view too much for those who have been confined thro* the da^', whether by business or indolence; and they who have been active and fatigued, woald be more relieved by an easier posture than the con- finement of a seat hemmed in for such a length of time. If this be repeated twice or thrice a week, which I suppose is done by many, it is so far from being an advantage to any serious design of life, that itconsum-s a Itrger portion of time than any employment can require, and makes a great breach in the few years of life allotted tv) the bulk of man- kind. If tnis were the only part of time that is employed in recreation, it would not make so great a chasm, nor be so pernicious; but when added to the other remissions and interruptions that occur to aim. 'St every one, it raises tne amoua v^ a very seriovis loss. But the inconveaiei ce does not stop here: tne impressions remain after the ^1 entertainment is over; they follow the spectator home agaiii; perhaps abridge the necessary time of sleep; return again in the morning; and recur so often in tue day, as to eni t34 jSpIbaitu^— on tfte €Seatre— No, V. I RESUME the irubjects of indelicacy and pro* fanity, touched on in my last. A regard to purity of sentiment and reverence to God, does certainly form the basis of viriue and religion. To offend in either of these, is to violate a principle of essential importance to hu* man happiness : and if the stage be so except tionable, as it certainly is, with regard to both, it is undeserving of the countenance of civilized, and especially of christian communities. A sentiment exhibited in public, has a very different effect from being read in private. If it hits the popular taste, which both indecency and profanity too commonly do, it is propagated by sympathy from one to another, and the effect of being generally agreeable makes a deeper impres- sion on each individual : so that, what perhaps might have been read in private without injury^ by being produced in public, becomes the incen- tive of depravity and vice. But what need have mankind of such provocatives ? Is not depravity strong enough in each individual, without the aid of the approbation a id example of others ? Cer- tainly it is ; and whatever tends to foster our na- tural propensity to vice, must deserve the strong- est reprobation, and ought to be discouraged by every one who is a true friend to human happiness. S5 Had such indecencies as frequently appear on the English stage, been brought on the Grecian or Roman, in their best and most virtuous times, they would have been instantly condemned, and both the players and authors proscribed from appearing again. On the whole, the entertainments of the thea- tre, so frequently and so greatly offending against good manners and religion, are extremely improper and every way injurious. I dismiss this article, which might have been treated at a much greater length, and proceed to remark 3. That another very material objection against the stage, is, that it is a temptation to people to spend more money on it, than they can well spare from other more necessary and indispensible de- mands. I have already mentioned three cases which demand ou;* attention, before wc can justly be at expence in amusements. These are, our just debts, charity to the poor, and our own com- fortable subsistence. To neglect either of these for a trifling gratification, not at all necessary for us, is to violate some of the greatest obligations we can lie under : and yet how many are tempted to this criminality, by the amusements of the theatre ! Wnat is spent there by many a man, ought to be laid by for taking up a note or a bond which ano- ther has on him ; and who, perhaps, is suffering- throus^li want of necessaries, because his debtor is not as honest as he is fond of plays. It sometimes, perhaps often happens, that a man, even in the main honest, is so carried away by these entertain- ments, as to bear down the sense of justice to which his conscience prompts him, by the incUna- tion to an indalgence which he has not resolution to overcome. This, I allow, is far from acquit- ting him of the guilt of wronging his neighbor, or abating his criminality ; but it shews the per- nicious tead'cjucy of amuseme us waich induce men to such injustice. Besides, how many suif;^r- ing poor are defrauded of relief by the taste for the stage ! And how many might be fed and cloathed, that are incapable of procuring a subsist- ence, by what goes for the dissipating entertain- ments of a night ! 1 allow that every man, who can afford it, has an undoubted right to be at expence for his enter- tainments, so far as not to infr nge on m )re necessary demands ; and there are those wno, while they give largely for their pleasure, may also give liberally to the poor : but thi^ cannot be the case with but a very few who usually attend the theatre. The balk are th(^se who, aiter they have given others their due, have but a small re- mainder that can be spared from their necessities ; and whether a part, or the whole of that, might not 37 be better applied than to amusement, every un- prejudiced person may easily judge. There is another consideration on the article of ezpence, of too much weight to be left unnoticed, and that ib, that the stage offers a temptation to people in low circumstances, to give that for their amusement which ought to be laid out in procur- ing necessaries for themselves or families. I have heard, but will not vouch for the truth of the report, that some in Charleston have sold their corn-mills to purchase tickets for the play ; and others laid out their last money at night for the same commodities, and been obliged the next morning, to borrow or beg provisions for their breakfast. This I can easily believe, because I have heard of the like folly in other places. Now, the evil is not only what such people may suffer, for their pleasure, but the temptation they are laid under to dishonest practices, for the sake of a seat in the play-house. Many are the complaints of this kmd which have been made, in every place where the theatre has been permitted. Children have defrauded their parents, apprentices and servants their masters and mistresses, laborers and mechanics their employers, and others those who served them, of the price of their services, through the same tem.ptation. In reply to this, it may be said — If some stint themselves or families of necessaries, or defraud VOL. 2. F others, or are guilty of any other mal-practices for sake of the theatre, the fauh is not in that, but in them. They are undoubtedly in fauh, and most so ; but the theatre is not therefore blame- less. It addresses to the weakness and depravity of mankind, and takes advantage of them for its own emolument, without offering any real good to weigh against the inconveniencies it occasions ; and this circumstance is that alone which main- tains it. In most places it is not supported princi- pally by those who can well affjrd to pay for its entertainments : the majority are generally those who purchase them to the less or greater detriment of their circumstances. If the theatre, then, holds out the temptation which occasions the evils above-mentioned, on a principle universally granted, that the fault first lies where the temptation io it originates, itself is first chargeable with all the ill consequences that follow it; and there is no source of argument to evade the conclusion. Its advocates have often said, and they seem to value it as a very weighty argument in its behalf, " the best institutions are liable to be perverted and abused ; and it is unfair to expect the stage to be without its inconveniencies, when every thing human is attended with them." This is very readily granted, but it makes not the least in favor of their cause ; for they are first to prove that the 3» theatre is a good and useful institution. Let them do this, and the -.irgumeiit will stand against air objections. Let them shew that it is favorable to the real interest and happiness of mankind; that it is ihe friend and cherisher of sobriety, chastity, and religion ; and that nothing is admitted on it contrary to these virtues and obligations ; and the strongest objections to it will be fairly given up, audits character honorably fixed. But, if it is to have no countenance till these things be made good, I believe the managers may as well pull it down at once and sell the materials, to be con- verted to more necessary purposes, and the play- ers look out for some more commendable and use- ful occupation. That we may allow the theatre the utmost it can claim, I will cite a sentence of Mr. Addison, whicti is as respectful as anything ever said in its favor — " The stage might be made a perpetual source of the most noble and useful entertain- ments, were it under proper regulations." But this sentence, on first sight so much in its favor, inflicts on its reputation a deep and incura- ble wound. It was, in his time, under as good regulations as in any period of its existence in the British nation ; and yet it was then so bad, as to give just cause oi complaint; and the words fairly imply, that, as it then stood, it was not a source of noble and useful entertainment. What 40 regulations it would require to make it such, it is unnecessary to conjecture, and I believe have ne- ver yet been devised. However, the first, I should suppose, would be, to make it at least consistent with decency and religion. But if such a regula- tion was to lake place, I am ready to think, many both of the performers and spectators would for- sake it, because the last would lose their principal entertainment, and the others their emolument. It is, however, quite trifling to say, " if it were under good regulations" : it has existed at least near three thousand years, and was so bad in the time of Socrates, that by turning him into ridicule, it cost the best man in the heathen world his life. If it has been constantly encouraged, and con- stantly complained of as corrupt and vicious, I think there is little reason to expect it will ever be under such regulations, as to make U what it is said it might be. I know of no other practicable way of making it such, than by converting it into a school of science, or languages, or a military school, or any other school conducive to the good of society. Let it, indeed, be almost any thing but what it really is, and its condition would be mended. 1 have now, as an act of justice, produced the best arguments, or rath.er sayings, that those best acquainted with its true character,' have advanced on its behalf; and the very utmost that can be 41 allowed to it, is ; that it might possibly be better regulciied, and answer better purposes than it can do in its present state. But as it seems merely ideal to think of its being better regulated, its ad- vocates must abandon argument in its favor, and repair to the only post they can maintain, and that is, They have the taste of mankind on their side ; and be that ever so wrong, it will probably support the stage, and every other institution that favors human depravity, till virtue and religion come into general res|jsect, and till the popular taste for enter- tainment be by them refined from its present grossness and impurity ; then the stage will, no doubt, be brought under proper regulations, or rather, it will be abolished. Immediately aftt r the sentence on Socrates, I intended to introduce the following remarks from RoUin's ancient history of the Greeks ; but, by an interruption, it then slipped my memory. — Speaking of their music and dancing, he says, ''Voluptuousness and sensual pleasure were the sole arbiters consulted in the uses made of both, and the theatre became a school of every kind of vice." He adds from Plutarch, speaking of public dancing, " being made subservient to low taste and sensuality, by their aid it exercised a kind of tyrannical power in the theatres, which were be- 42 come the public schools of criminal passions and gross vices, wherein no regard was had to reason." These remarks, indeed, imply that the theatre had been in a better state than in the time referred to ; but, as there have been very few period's since, in which the like complaints have not been made; and as they are still made in every place where u theatre is opened, it affords a very strong presumption, that there is something in the nature of its entertainments, that will not admit of such regulations as might render it consistent with virw tue and the good of society. In reply to what has been advanced on this unpleasant subject, I expect it will all be charged to want of taste, sourness, want of liberality of sentiment, and perhaps, other things of a more exceptionable nature ; because this is the usual method with the advocates of the stage. But this very circumstance proves the badness of their cause, and that they are conscious it is incapable of being defended by argument. If they have virtue on their side, or rather, are on the side of virtue, let them fairly show it ; and their oppo- nents will be well pleased to see all their objections confuted, and will very gladly drop the contest. But, while they shun argument and facts, and shelter themselves in the mean refuge of ridicule and reproachful epithets, however this artifice may answer their purpose, the sober sense of man- 43 4cind will ever contemn it, and pronounce their pretensions to favor virtue, good taste, and honor, to be vain and futile. Tney have ever had the sentiments of the greatest and best of men against them; and it will require better arguments than they have ever yet advanced, to remove an objec- tion against the stage, of so much weight and dignity. Sylvanus. January 20, 1794. ANECDOTE OF THE ATHEKIAjY STAGE. TiMOTHEus, the famous musician, having re- presented Diana on the stage transported with folly, fury, and rage ; one of the spectators, exas- perated by such an irreligious act, wished his (Timotheus's daughter) might be such an one. S. ^pKtianu^— on J^utilic ^mu^ement^— No. vi. A LITTLE to relieve myself and readers from the irksomeness of examining the stage, I shall attempt, in this paper, a short consideration of the question, Whether public amusements of any kind are necessary or convenient? — By public amuse- ments I mean those which are open to the com- munity at large, whether expensive or not, as the. 44 terms on which they are conducted may happen to be. The question, therefore, does not inckide those which are enjoyed by select parties and assembhes, which may, in many cases, according to the nature of them, be rational and useful. Neither does it intend those public festivities which are observed, in order to commemorate events of a public nature, to inspire a love of the common interest, and to cement the minds of the people in support of the general good. These, indeed, are seldom free from inconveniences; but if they are, in the main, of public utility, they may justly be encouraged. I speak of those public assemblies only, which have nothing more for their object than the grati- fication of those who attend them, or the emo- lument of those who exhibit them. Of this kind, whether plays, horse-racing, feats of horsemanship, or rope-dancing, though the two latter are much more innocent than the former, I think it may be said, they are neither necessary nor convenient. They are not necessary, because there are amusements enough of a private nauire, to answer every intention for which either the busy or the idle can require them. If the proper, and indeed the only, design of amusements should be to relieve the mind or b >dy from the pressui e of care and employment, in order to restore its tone, and refit it for returning to the same, at a proper 45 time, v/ith new vigor; this may certainly be done by various other methods than those of a pubhc nature, and free from the inconveniences of the latter. I have already mentioned conversation, reading, music, walking, riding, or other exercises, as the case may require, for persons of different oc- cupations, as suflBcient for all the important pur- poses of recreation, and such as may be innocently practised ; to which 1 might add two or three games of a private nature, particularly checks, which may answer persons of such active employments as do not require intense thought and study, and •when used merely as a relief from business. I except every kind of game which is played for money, because in this case it becomes a trade, and one of the worst sort that can be practised. It may be urged, that public amusements of one kind or another have been used by all na- tions, civilized as well as barbarous, in all ages. They have so: but if they have been, in some re- spects, necessary in some nations and ages, it will not follow that they are so in all. At least two thousand years had elapsed, be- fore there was any kind of current writing for the instruction and entertainment of mankind: hiero- glyphics alone, which were very confined in their use, were the means of public information. 'Till the invention of printing, vv^hich was not four hun- dred years ago, the body even of the most civiliz- VOL. 2. G 46 cd nations where in want of the chief means of rational entertainment. PubUc news, the know- ledge of past events, science, and whatever else was of general import, could be learned only in their public assemblies. In these, they were in- formed of every thing that concerned the public cause; their principal acts of religion were there performed; their victories were celebrated, and their enterprizes of war proclaimed. They had besides, 'till the times of the Greeks, but few arts to occupy them in private, because their necessj^ ties were few, and therefore easily supplied. As late as the time of Demosthenes, we find the peo- ple of Athens indolent, and intent upon news, and therefore constantly assembling together for infor- mation to keep up their attention. A great part of the eastern people were still in a worse condi- tion, and therefore in all of them public assembles, either stated or occasional, were quite requisite in order to keep them employed, and in a state of union. But besides this, most of them were almost continually exposed to wars, and a great part of their public amusements was intended to acquaint them with military exercises, and to qualify them for defending the public. Their theatres, r.icing, wrestling, boxing, music and dancing, were all con- sidered as exercises of public utility, and not mat- ters of mere amuseme it. And it was principally with a view to the common good, that their legis- 47 iators instituted public games and that their princi- pal characters frequented them, and even took a part in perfor.ning them. So far as they were founded on this principle, they were wise and commendablel But we are under no such necessity now. We have not only abundant means of employment and entertainment in private, but also of information in what concerns the public good. The press supplies us with the knowledge of past events, of whatever is transacting in the most distant parts of the world, as well as the constitution of their governments, their customs and manners, their virtues and vices. It informs us of new improve- ments in arts and sciences, and whatever can gra- tify our taste for novelty, or our love for solid improvement. Besides, our wants are now so multiplied, and arts and occupations, so increased, that few men need be idle, or without radonal entertainment, if they wish to enjoy it, without going to public as- semblies. I can therefore see no kind of necessity for public entertainments, nor any advantage from them, unless where something of a public nature may make them of importance. To celebrate our independence, to commemo- rate the captures of Burgoyne and Cornwallis and other successes obtained in the late war, may, I think, very well deserve the pubhc attention, aud 48 some public festivity, as calculated to cement our union, and preserve a due regard to the com- mon interest. But these are very different from public assemblies for the purpose merely of plea- sure and dissipation. Besides, where there is a necessity of recreation, and of that sort which de- pends on company, persons of any degree of re- fihcment may certainly enj y it much better ni a small party, where there is more composure and sociabilitv, than in large and mixed assemblies^ which are very unfavorable to both. Small com- panics for free conversation, for music, for dis- cussing subjects of history, philosophy, or other branches of knowledge, which, while they recre- ate and iai prove, serve also to promote friendship and refinement of manners, would in every respect be far superior to passing two or three hours in a croud of all characters, without any solid recom- pense for the time that is there spent, and many unpleasant circumstances tb.at unavoidably attend large and promiscuous assemblies. One room fitted up in Charleston as a museum, furnished with good paintings and engravings, with natural curiosities models of ingenious and useful mechan- ism, and a small apparatus for the more entertain- ing experiments in natural philosophy, would do more in one year towards improving the taste and manners of tl.e citizens, than the circus, the race ground, and tlie theatre, in a whole age. And if 49 a few gentlemen of taste and property would en-- gage in such an institution, they would render an important service to the place, and well merit the thanks of all virtuous and good men. It would indeed require time and some money to bring it forword; but when once open it would soon re- fund the expense to the institutors, and the profits afterwards would go towards carrying it on. This leads me, by way of contrast, to remark on some of the inconveniences that attend public amusements, particularly those which are here the subjects of my censure. They draw together a promiscuous multitude, without any laws to confine them within the bounds of decency and good manners. The public games of the ancients were appointed by public authority, and every thing belonging to them was regulated by laws made for the purpose. And though in- decent and vicious sentmients were, in process of time, admuted on the stage ; in other respects their assemblies were conducted with decorum. I ex- cept the feasts of Bacchus, which had excess for iheir object, and were under no laws. This in- deed, was an adventitious abuse; for at first they were religious. The evil above mentioned is the greater, as the amusement is more public, and therefore the race-ground is liable to more disor- der than the theatre, where the spectators are fewer and more confined. But, even this is sub- 50 ject to great confusion, and even riots, which have frequently happened in the best theatres of London, to mention no others. Another inconvenience is, that the more pub- lic kind are a great im^^ediment to the necessary employments of the people. They draw youth from their schools, mechanics from their shops merchants from their counters, and servants from their proper duties; so that during the time of some of them, particularly the races, there is al- Xiiost an entire stagnation of business in the city. And I believe there have been instances when the legislators of the state have adjourned for two or three days, to see this wonderful and edfying spectacle. Had it been to see a fine African lion, or the the city of Jerusalem in miniature, or a stuffed skin of the man of the woods, I should think it more excusable, because it would have been inno- cent in itself, though quite unbecoming an assem- bly of the state. During the time of the races, I believe the race-ground is a scene, not only of dissipation, but of gross vice; and after they are over, it is some time before the inhabitants seem to recover their serenity, just as the sea takes some considerable time to subside, after a storm, or severe gale of wind. 51 As to the inconveniences of the stage, I have ah'eady taken notice of them. For the circus, rope-dancing, and tricks of hand, they are more trifling than criminal: and I will only say, at pres- ent that they promise nothing but the amusement of the moment; and it is a pity that men capable of such agility were not employed in something more reputable, and useful to society. I close this paper with observing, that, as a christian community, these amusements are unbe- coming; as a commercial people, they are an im- pediment to our business; and that, with respect to them, we are in a worse state than the ancients, who regulated them by public laws, to make them f your thoughts ? Nothing, 1 am persuaded, but the gaiety of the theatre, will be able to blunt the keen edge of your reflections. But, remen.ber, that will not last for ever; your season of dissipation must end, and then reflection will come, against all the efforts you can make to prevent it. 1 draw to a close. If I have advanced any thing against the theatre, that I cannot make good, show it. Come forth and defend yourselves, like men, on the open ground of argument, and scorn the usual weapons ot the tlieau*e, ridicule, banier and reproach : with men of undc rstanding, such shifts will not do. If I have uttered, in any of my remarks on the theatre, aiiy thing like ntvective, remember that itself first gave the provocation, by its attacks on all offices and characters. This, 7.1' indeed, is your usual way. My remarks arc open to the world, and when opposed with candor, I will reply wuh the same temper : but if you em- ploy any other methods to defend yourselves, they will be suffered to sleep undisturbed. As occa- sion offers, and leisure permits, I will continue my remarks. 1 am the enemy of no class of men, though I may be of their occupations, when they appear to be inimical to the interests of society, which I am persuaded is the case with your's. The only advice I offer you for the present, is, quit it for something more innocent and useful. Turn school-masters, if you are men of education ; or merchants, planters, mechanics ; or to any other business that may be of real use to society, and that may suit your talents and inclinations. Any honest occupation will be preferable to that you are now engaged in. As the conclusion of this paper, I recommend to you the following lines of an author, as correct in his taste, as profound in his sentiments : — " Reflect that life, like every other blessing, *' Derives its value from its use alone : "Not for iisclf. but foi' a nobier end " Th' Eternal gave it, and that end is virtue.'* JoHNSOlf, I am, with my usual signature, Sylvanus. February 12th, 1794. 72 ^plbatiu^— on t^e CScatte— No. ix. THE PREACHER'S COUNSEL: or, SoLOATOH's Advice to ruE VofARiEs 0/ PiEAsuRM.'^Parodiei. Rejoice^ O young mati^ in thy youths and let thine heart cheer thee in the days of thy youths and walk in the ways of thine hearty and in the sight of thine eyes, &c. Being very proper to be read and digested, as a preparation for the Theatre! I. Come, banish all care, To the Play-house repair, ■'Tis all the delight of the gay ; Nor reflection, nor thought, Should so dearly be bought, If the price be — a seat at the play. II. What a folly to think, Wdile we stand on a brink, From whence we must quickly descend : There's nor bottom nor shore, Nor aught of us more. When this our short destin}/'ll end. III. What's life, but a flow'r, That blooms for an hour, Then fades, ne'er hs blush to resume f O why then impair Its perfume or its glare, 3ince it hastens so fast to its doom I IV. Let the gay morn of youth, By no serious truth, Be clouded: before it be noon; E'er it reaches mid-day. It begins to decay, And fleets on to sun-set too soon, V. What cares then corrode ! What sorrows forebode, That the gloom of night thickens apace ; A night of despair, Without planet or star, Whose shadows no morning shall chase-. VI. Come youth, then, come age, Trip it gay to the stage. There no " stupid maxims" intrude j Nor reflection, nor care, Are ever known there — They belong to the grave and the rude. 74, VII. There the pensive revive, Wiile their anguish they give To the pleasure that bears them away ; There the sick become well. And no longer tell The disease that has made them its prey. VIII. There the gamester forgets What he lost by his betts, Or thinks he'll regain it to-morrow; The debtors there pay Off their bonds with a play, And shake fiom their bosoms all sorrow. IX. Old age there regains, For its languor and pains, The ardor it felt in its prime; Sees the spring bloom anew, And believes it is true There wrill be a reverse of its time. X. There the hungry are fed, « And the naked are clad, By the joys which the moment bestows ; In pleasure's gay scenes, ■^Ihey perceive the true means Of relieving the sense of their woes^ 75 XI. There the high and the low Full equality know — Vain distinction is banish'd away ; There all tempers agree, And all humours are free — So great is the force of a play ! XII. To the play then repair, 'Tis the Lethe of care, Which it whelms in the spring-tide of joy j There deep from the sight, Let it perish out- right, Life's pleasures no more to annoy. This is the most certain and effectual method of dispatching all serious care : not by those vain expedients which serve only to suffocate it for a moment, and admit of its speedy recovery to life and vigor ; but by fairly immtrsing it, at once, in the deep and dead water of the oblivious lake. I might here close this paper, but cannot avoid remarking on the mutability of the human tem- per, which is capable of the most sudden transi- tions, without any apparent cause, from one ex- treme to another. Of this, the concluding words of Solomon's address, are one of the most remarkable instances in the world. After encouraging youth to give full scope to their inclinations in the gay round of human de- lights, without regard to reason, or any other con- sideration that might serve to check their ardor, he dashes the whole with a strange and frightful thought, very unsuitable to the taste of those who know no other end of life, than to enjoy it for its own sake, as far as it can be enjoyed. But know thou^ that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment. This is a sad reverse, and most dismal conclu- sion of a sentence so gay in the beginning and so flattering to a pleasurable disposition. It is like one of tnose black and awful clouds, which some- times suddenly spread a deep gloom over a serene and smiling morning, pouring down a cataract of rain, mingled with liery lightnings and crashing thunders, " convulsing heaven and earth," and overwhelming the hearts of men with forebodings of the final overthrow of nature. Sylvanus, February 24, 1794. i77 ^plijanu^— on tge €6eatrc— No. X. Great and mighty is the truth, and it will prevaih My particular design in this paper is to exam- ine an argument that has frequently been propos- ed in favor of the theatre, and which is, on first sight, as plausible as any thing advanced to that purpose. What I mean is, that some great and good men have written plays, and introduced them on the stage. Of these no one has been more frequently mentioned, or with more confidence, than Cato, by Mr. Addison. Of Mr. Addison's writings in general, no one can have a higher opi- nion than myself: but had he never written Cato, nor any other drama, I am of opinion that his sub- stantial fame as a writer, had not been less by a single scruple. They scarcely bear the marks of being done by the same hand which wrote so many other excellent pieces. As to Cato in par- ticular, it is a stiff, " heavy and declamatory dra- ma," whose chief merit is the sentiments it con- tains in favor of liberty: and it w^as this circum- stance principally that secured it the popularity it obtained when first brought upon the stage, which has continued, in some m^easure, to the present time. In point o{ pathos and actiiiu one scene in Lear or Macbeth is worth the whole of it. •' The loves of Juba and Marcia, of Fortius and Lucia, VOL. 2. L 78 are vicious and insipid epilogues, debase the dig- nity, and destroy the unity of the table." Tiiese are the words of as agreeable and candid a critic as I know of in the English language. (See an essay on the genius and writings of Pope.) But supposing Cato, and many other plays, to be perfectly unexcepticnable in their language and morals, what does this argue in favor of the thea- tre? I have never argued against the reading of good plays, more than any other good writings; but against bad plays, anc' an immoral and badly managed theatre. To these objects, tie drift of my reasoning has been directed. To talk about a theatre under good regulations, and calculated to inculcate morality and virtue, is to talk about somethmg merely in idea: for where is such a theatre, and where has it existed, without the re- proach of injuring morality, rather than promoting it? But this is the sophistry of th(jse who are fonder of the stage, than capable of deferiding it. They studiously avoid the- only ground on which the subject is fairly to be discussed; ai^d this vi ry circumstance strongly evinces the badiicss of their cause. We must take the theatre as it now is and has generally been in every age since it was first opened. What it migiu be, by good regulations, is quite another question. Besides, it entirely overthrows the force of this argument, that such sentimental and moral plays, as Cato, S-ic. arc 79 seldom brought on our common stages; and the reason evideiitly is, because they contain too much sentiment and too little action^ as already remark- ed, to suit either tlie design of the managers, or the taste of the g*:^) -eraiity of those who frequent the tneatre: or why are noi Addison's, Young's, Rowe's and Thompson's dramatic pieces more frequently performed? Why are love comedies and trifling farces, which generally have litde sen- timent, and are very viften exceedingly immoral, or, at the least, calculated only to divert for the moment, performed so much oftent-r? The rea- son is unquestionably this, that the chief object of the theatre is not to inculcate moral sentiment, bat to amuse the a.idience. As a proof of this, I will only refer to the pieces which have been generally performed at the Charleston theatre, since it was first opened. I have indeed seen Macbeth lately advertised; but, if I ,im not deceived in the information I have had, from good jndj^es, it must have been tragi- cally performed. That the Charleston theatre has some good singers, good musicians, and a great laugher, 1 have no doubt: but what are these to the performance of a good tragedy ? Besides, it appears to me a considerable objec- tion against the supposed design of inculcating morality, and making good impressions on the minds of the audience, that the best tragedies are 80 frequently followed by an insipid epilogue and farce, calculated to erase every serious and vakia- ble sentiment inculcated by it; and that, let the tragedy have been ever so deep, the audience must be sent away in as light and trifling a humor as possible. This is an absurdity that can never be vindicate;!, on the supposition that tiie theatre is designed to impress moral instruction: or why are not the audience suffered to go away with the good sentiments and affections they have felt? Will the advocates of the tiieatre fairly answer me this question? Still farther, when the rules of morality are so frequently violated on the stage, and have been very flagrantly so on that of Charleston, it is per- fectly vain and absurd to call it a school of virtue, and a place of rational enteriainmeat. And I am well pleased to find, that, after all the charges of iliiberality and invective, bestowed by the thea- tre and some of its retainers on my remarks, the trudi has fairly come out as much in favor of my general argument as could be wished. A writer, who signs himself a Citizen^ in the City Gazette of Feb. 26, has, in a few lines, in- contestlbl} fixed the heaviest charges I have bro't against the theatre. Me indeed calls my remarks " fine-spun reasoning"; but, be it fine or coarse, he lias no*^ only confirmed the drift of it, but said even more than 1 have any where done: he has 81 charged the Charleston theatre with *• downright obscenity," and I do not recollect to have said it ever went to such excess of indecency; but he has said ir, and his testimony ought not to be ques- tioned, because he professes to be an admirer of theatrical exhibitions. This author further says, that, m conversation with the players on the subject of their unchasiity on the stage, they vindicated themselves by saying, *' the public taste was always consulted." The fact, then, of gross indelicacy is ackno\Adedged; but the players charge it to the public taste. 1 ask, then, if they are not become my seconds in the debate, and, instead of confuting my charges against them and the public taste, have explicitly established them? Have I any where fixed a stronger stigma on it, tiian they have done? I think not: and I am glad to find myself, in a manner, left out of the controversy, by this acknowledgment, and that it now lies between the public and the players. Tnere is certainly a gross fault some wnere; and, on which side soever it will finally be fixed, the substance of my remarks will be confirmed. Here, then, is the opinion which the perform- ers entertain of the people of Charleston; an opi- nion extremely discreditable to them, and what, I am sorry to find, seems to be supported by such strong reasons. The players, to make good their charge, have tried a comedy, called '• The School 82 for Wives;" a very fine comedy indeed, by their own acjount: it may be so, for I do not knovf it. Bat, what was the result of their trial of a chaste and sentimential play? Why they had a very thin h mse. Tnis seems an advice towards clearing themselves. The encomiast ot the t. ea- tre, who, I have no doubt, belongs to it, seems not a little distressed that the taste of the maim- gers in selecting it, and the singular exceller.cc of the actors in performing it, should have b en so poorly rewarded. It seems they intend to perform it again; and, if they should tlien he disappointed also, tP.ey will be under the necessity of returning to their old track, and endeavor to accommodate themselves to the public taste. This is a reflec- tion of the greatest severity, and I am truly sorry that even the players have reason to make it. All this, h(jwevcr, is a good beginning ; and I am well pleased to find the players of Charleston, themselves, proselytes in some degree to my opi- nion of the theatre. There is, now, some little hope of a reformation, both in that and the public taste ; and 1 mo^t heartily wish it may speedily take place. But, I will say to them, as Shake- speare, in another view, '-O, reform altogether!" There is, however, one bad pre^^age ; they must have their bread: and, if they cannot have a full house by chaste and virtuous plays, they must have it by those of a contrary character. But, is 83 it the part of virtuous men so far to comply with the vicious taste of mankind ? Are these the con- ductors of a school of virtue, who have in view the rational entertainment and the happiness of men? It is too thin a pretext not to be seen tlirough. Chaste or unchaste, moral or vicious, they are de- termined to please and amuse the public by some- thing, be it what it may. But, does not this estab- lish the charges I have exhibited against the mana- gers themselves? It certainly does. If the public taste is bad and vicious, are they therefore to gra- tify it? By no means: be the consequence what it may, they are bound by ties, which cannot be violated with impunity, to adhere invariably to the rules of decorum, chastity and rehgion, in every performance. Let them do this, and they will not only so far merit the approbation of all virtuous and good men, but enjoy a satisfaction unspeak- ably preferable to that which they lately had, from throwing the audience into an immoderate fit of laughter, by introducing Sylvanuson the stage. I am well pleased with that incident ; it cer- tainly did some honor to my remarks, by proving that the character of the theatre was truly hit upon by them. Were I applauded there, I should have reason to condemn myself. That was the second time I ever was within the walls of a the- atre ; but, it is probable, T shall several times vet make my appearance at that of Charleston, before 84 the present season be out. In the mean time, I' shall, on two accounts, be very happy to see any promising appearances of a thorough reformation in the management of it: the one, that virtue and religion will then cease to be wounded and dis* honored, and the moral sentiments of the people depraved: the other, that the performers them- selves will become better citizens, and happier men. I have not a wish to debar mankind of any ra- tional and virtuous entertainment; for, to such I am a friend. Neither would I do the smallest injury even to the pla\ers, who are unfortunately engaged in an employment, in which they in effect acknowledge themselves, in some sort, obliged to be panders to the most corrupt and vicious taste of mankind, or be in danger of failing of a sub- sistence. Hov/ much better to toil at the oar, or drag the net for a livelihood, than to gain it by means ruin- ous to themselves and others ! Let them jointly declare themselves on the side of morality, and a chaste and uncorrupted taste, by banishing from the stage every tiling, both in sentiment and action, contrary to them, and liicy will find me among the first to pay them the tri- bute of due honor. But, wiiilc they continue to insidt chastity and seriousness, I shall contmue to hold them among the chief enemies of society. 85 The post I have occupied, from a sense of duly and good will to my fellow citizens, I will maintain against all the reproach of the theatre and its ad- herents, with a watchful eye on its exhibitions, till the reasons which have prompted me to this service, shall cease. With very sincere wishes for the improvement of the public taste, and the reformation and happiness of the players them- selves, I am still Sylvanus. P. S. It seems to me to argue a consciousness of want of excellence and public estimation, that the players of the Charleston theatre are obliged to commend their own performa ices. That t ;eir encomiast, who signs himself, or rather herself, at one time '' A Correspondent," at another, '• Five Hundred Cuizcnis," and at another, '' A Number of Citizens," belongs to the theatre, I cannot doubt. " Let another praise thee, and not thine own mouth." I am as ready v as any person whatever to give due credit to the mana- gers, for their design of giving a benefit towards the redemption of the unhappy captives among the Algerines : but, I hope they will not think that any act of iiumanity, however laudable, will cover the multitude of faults they commit on the stage ; or that the public opinion will thereby be swayed lo favor their present general conduct, as VOL. 2. M 86 players. I am far from saying, by this remark, that they have been prompted to this charily, by any other motive than the genuine dictates of hu- manity. It is the extreme of uncharitableness to ascribe a good action to any other than a good principle, where there are not strong reasons for suspecting it. I conclude this postscript with ad- vising them to dismiss their pre^ent encomiast, and let their performances hereafter speak for them- selves. S. ^plUanu^— No. XI. An Address to Youth* Attend, dear youth, the friendly muse, Who calls you off from pleasure's train, Would teach you when life's sweets to use, And what to shun as ligiit and vain^ By wise experience yet untaught. What's good, what's ill, you cannot know ; Such knowledge only can be bought By changes oft of joy and woe. The first impulse that guides the human mind. Is deep to drink of pleasure's smiling b \vl ; %o cast each serious, useful tiiought behind, Nor thiiik what int'rests the immortal soul. 87 In your fair blooming form a spirit dwells, A ray etSienal from the font of light ; At .>nce your origin and end it tells, Your rank how high, your tacuities how bright. From heav'n deriv'd, for heav'n again design'd. Scorn not your destination so sublime ; For this alone, by virtue's pow'r refin'd, You'll fitted be in this short courj>e of time. hi pleasure's warm pursuit, ne'er pass the bound Which heav'n and reason have for mortals fix'd; Beneath the fragra t rose sharp thorns are found. And ev'ry sweet is with a bluer mix'd. Shun dissipation's gay and mazy road, With whate'er sweets it flatters and allures j Far, far it leads from pleasure's true abode, And keen remorse, and pain, at last insures. Close In its train, neglect, and want, and shame, Are foU'wing seen, with sad and sullen gait : While sober virtuous care leads on to fame, And peace and pieniy on its paths await. The meteor that glides along the sky. With dazzling gleam, quick-hasting to expire, Nor guides with steady 1 ght the trav'ler's eye, Nor warms him with a genial gladsome fire : 88 Such is the pleasure dissipation knows, And e'er experienc'd by the gidd) mind; Quick from the strong-i;n pressed j^ense it flows, Nor leaves one deep or lasting trace behind. In vice's beaten road — tho' thousands go, Impell'd by custom, or by passion strong — Tread not a step ; or soon, or late, you'll know How wide's the diff'rence between right & wrong. One step there taken, it is hard to say What force of reason can }our feet recall; 'Tis always easier to shun the way That leads to vice, than back from it to fall. A thousand sweets kind heav'nhas strew'd around, And freely granted to our sober use ; In these alone true pleasure can be found, While sure disgust attends on each abuse. The lily, whitest of the garden train, Whose leaves with richest odours too are fraught, Will soor.est suffocate th' impressed brain, And fatal prove to both its sense and thought:* • Confined in a close room, they are said to occasion sudden death to those who sleep b> them ; and many are incapable of smelling ihem long, without faintinpj. 89 While the fair rose, less laden with perfume, Nor palls, nor satiates the wearied smeilj And when quite faded is its native bloom, It still retains us virtue to regale ; So while the gayest, richest, sweets of sense Will soonest pall and languish on the taste It's temper'd joys will never give offence. But still delight when others run to waste. If, in your prime, your passions you restrain, By piety's and reason's stable rules. Of 1 fe you'll blu It each keen and needful pain, And shun the anguish tnat awaits on fools. Still, then, pursue the path which duty shows, Wnate'er reproach or toil aitend it may ; In bliss, at last, you'll terminate your woes, And see the regions of eternal day. This IS the affectionate wish of your true friend, Sylvanus March 7, 1794. 90 ^plbanu^— on tgc €][)cattc— No. xir. Don Juan, or the Libertine Destroyed. The encomiast of the Charleston theatre in- forms us, that this is " one of the finest morals and grandest spectacles that ever was exhibited in any theatre. How far it is either the one or the other, is now to be examined. First, it appears to me that the character of Don J nan is quite overdone. It is not in human nature to proceed to such extremity of wickedness, as ne is represented to do, without fear, compunc- tion, or any pause in the career of guilt, till the very end of life. The most hardened libertine, be his course of guilt what it may, or his passions ever so strong, is often checked by remorse, and the apprehension of punishment. In the impetuo- sity of passion, he may commit the niost violent enormities, and this may be very often repeated ; but there is something in the breast of every man, which, independent of the sense of responsibility to the supreme tribunal, fills him with both horror and fear, in the commission of crimes of such a nature as those of Don Juan. I have read the lives of a great many men, who went to the utmost limits of transgression : but I cannot recollect any one who had not his seasons of sober reflection, remorse, and purposes of amendment. That Don Juan should have been so courage- ous in all the extraordinary and preternatural cir- cumstances in which he is represented, is also, I apprehend, entirely unnatural. Great guilt, espe- cially that of murder, is ever, I believe, accompa- nied with timidity, or rather great fearful ness. Shakespeare has therefore given us a much truer and more natural representation of a guilty mind, in Macbeth, after the murder he had committed. In one place he says — " I am afraid to think what I have done ; look on't again I cannot." After that — " How is't with me, when every noise appals me !" This is perfectly natural. These feelings ap- pear to be implanted in our nature, as a gtiard against the commission of extraordinary crimes ; and I do not think that any habit of guilt can en- tirely erase them. The next thing in this extraordinary spectacle, IS the equestrian statue. Singular as Dun Juan's character is, this very far exceeds it. It is an animated statue, possessed of the powers both of motion and speech. It nods, walks, converses, invites to a banquet, and expostulates. I am sur- prized that Don Juan was not frightened out of his wits, at so preternatural a phenomenon : but it seems he had acquired extraordinary intrepidity, by the commission of extraordinary crimes. 92 But, does not such an appearance contradict all the rules of probability, and, instead of being awful and alarming, become perfectly ludicrous ? Siich exhibitions are not only against nature and reason, but they have a tendency to lessen our respect to truth and reality, and bias the mind into a love of mere chimeras. A disturbed imagination, such as Don Quix- ote's, may imagine wnid-mills armed cap-a-pee, ready for combat, and in such a case, it is excusa- ble ; the disorder is in the mind itself, not i.i na- ture : but when men set themselves to invent things that have no existence in any order of the universe, it is very highly absurd, and I think in some degree criminal. How much more affecting and awful would have been the apparition of the murdered com- mandant, as coming from the invisib'e world, and being agreeable to a popular a -d n itional opinion ! Irom this wonderful statue we pass to remark on another very grand scene — '^ me fiery abyss, sudden flames of firt," bic. In this representation, 1 think there is some- thing morf than impropriety — tht re is great leme- ritv. The disposer ot the universe ras w:sely and kindly concealed from us these a^vtul scene--, aid the most eager curiosity hardly wlsties to pry into them. In description, the imagination ma) bit al- lowed considerable liberty ; but even in this case, I 1 93 we ought to be very cautious and respectful, and to treat those sole inn and undescribed subjects with great veneration. To represent them by visible and material ob- jects, and fjr our amusement too, is a liberty, I apprehend, we are not justifiti'd in taking, on any principles. The mind tnereby acquires, insensi- bly, a levity in thinking and speaking on such sub- jects, that may prove extremely injurious to moral sentiment. A mind properly impressed with a sense of these most awful and interesting scenes, which are reserved for incorrigible sinners, can never think or speak of them without considerable terror. In connection with this, we are presented with the furies. Who or what these persons are, would, 1 bciieve, puzzle the players themselves to tell us. On the Grecian or Roman stage they were proper enough, because they made a part of their myth;>logy, and were agreeable to popular opinion : but what we have to do with them, who consider them as mere fictitious personages, I cannot conceive ; nor v/hat entertainment the representation of them can afford, ni an assembly of people who acknowledge no such existences. In poetry they may do, but in representation they are ridiculous, and I should think offensive to a good taste. Besides, there is an evident impro- priety in appearing as the executioners of divine VOL. 2. N 94 justice, which the furies are supposed to be. It is m ire than impropriety to iiurude ourselves on such a service. Next to the furies comes in Pluto, the most improper and exceptionable part (jf the spectacle. Pray what is Pluto, but an imaginary personage, who is here set in the place of the supreme judge of the universe, to determine the final condition of mankind? This is blending the serious and comic together in a most unnatural and improper manner, and turns the whole affair into a mere jest. The person who acted Pluto must have been as daring as Don Juan, and I think much more so. To sit as judge in such a case, is an argument of extreme levity, and want of bober consideration. Plaving thus concisely examined the propriety of the representation, let us now enquire a liule into the fine moral it conveys. Where it lies, I confess myself much at a loss to discover. Instead of being so good as we are told, 1 rather suspect it is of a quhe contrary tendency: for, fiist, the re- presentation itself is too ludicrous to niii^e any serious impression. The only scene approaching to solemnity, is ''the dismal cave, with monu- ments, bones," 8lc. and the expostulation that then takes place : but even this is quite spoiled by the statue. We arc told that Pluto would not pardon Don Juan, as a libertine destitute of pity ; andtiiis seems 95 to be the principal reason of bis condemnation. This is a very dangerous sentiment. Many a hu- mane and compassionate hbtrtine meets with the same fate as Don Juan; nor will any degree of pity atone for other crimes, or screen the perpetrators of them from final punishment. That such an incorrigible • ffenderas Don Juan should be at i.ist destro\ ed, is ncjthing more than what every man thinks just and right, and is there- fore very far from being so remarkable fiiie a moral. Final misery is the natural and necessary consequence of such crimes, and of others of much less enormity. Here too, 1 tliink, there is a dan- gerous sentiment implied. It seems to insinuate that none but such monstrous offenders as Don Juan are in danger of meeting with his fate ; and many a libertine, as well as otliers, is fond of che- rishing the idea: and on this principle men are tuo apt to think themselves secure, while they confine themselves within the limits of passion and indul- gence that do not directly injure others. On the whole, b Jth the grandeur and moral of this performance come dovv^n to, at least, a mere representation of things out of die order of nature, neither nistructive nor conformable to truth, or the rules of good taste. How it was received I cannot tell, but should be sorry if so trifling a performance could please the people of Charleston. Sylvanus, March 14, 1794. 55 ^^iltjanu^-No. XIII. ^72 Address /o^/z^ Public, o;^ Public Amusements. Fellow-Citizens^ The papers I have taken the liberty of laying before you, have b( en dictated by th.at good will which every citizen owes to the community in which he lives, and by which he enjoys the pro- tection and other advantages of society. I can the more readily pltad yoiu' indulgence, as none of my remarks have been aimed at any individual, or intended to expose any personal character; but made on as large a scale as the object i had in view would admit of. My design has been to ezDose our public am.usements, as equally tending to deprave our taste and our morals, two things of very great consequence to us in every view. Our taste for entertainments has a closer connec- tion with our manners, and a stronger* influence upon them., than would readily be imagined. It has been for this reason that I have sometimes descended to more particularity in my remarks on the performances of the theatre, than was quite agreeable to my disposition. In the same degree - as we acquire a refinement in our tasie for pleasure, * we shall probably improve in all our sentiments S>7 and manners. On this principle, then, I shall coDtiaue this series of papers, so far as shall ap- pear to me conducive to these ends. Allowing that public amusements were, in the main, innocent and expedient, it appears to me a question that deserves serious consideration, Jiow far they are so in caw circumstances? That they are not expedient, I argue from the following considerations. 1. It appears to mc that we are yet too young to encourage them. It was near four hundred years from the building of Rome, before stage- plays were tnerc performed. Other public games they had, but they were of a different character; and such was the public opinion of these enter- tainments, that the histriones, or stage-players, were never allowed the privilege of ranking in any tribe. Other marks of disrespect they were treat- ed with, which every person well acquainted with the Roman antiquities must know. We are not yet full eighteen years of age, as an independent community, and yet we have not only these, but several others. Our great object in this early state should be to secure our independence on a large and permanent basis, and to establish a na- tional character, as well as the prosperity of the union, by a manly spirit, to which all our public amusements are very unfavorable. If we become effeminate in our manners, and are carried avvay 93 by trifling entertainments, in so early a period of our existence, what mav we expect to be in fifty or an hundred years hence? 2. We have not yet recovered from the effects of the late war with Britain. Many were thereby reduced from opulent to narrow circumstances; many, from competence to want; many rendered incapable of paying their just debts; and our taxes to defray the expences of that war considerably raised: so that, in what respects individuals and the community, many of us are in difficult situa- tions. From these embarrassments we can be freed, only b}^ a general spirit of industry and econtimy, to both (if which public amusements of every kind are unfavorable. o. Our frontiers are greatly harassed by a war with the savages. Multitudes of individuals and famihes have already been destroyed, with all the horrors of Indian barbarity; and multitudes are in continual jeopardy and alarm, abandoning their habitations, and the m* ans of subsistence, and shut up in close stations, to preserve their lives. We have already losf. the greatest part of o ic army m our defence, and another is now on the territory of the enem), waiting, perhaps, the same fate. By the feehngs, then of humanity fur our suf- fering brediren, and a concern for tlie public good, we are bound to cultivate a serious temper. 99 4. We have but lately recovered from the dread of public calamity, particularly of the disease which prevailed at Philadelphia, and was so fatal to that growing city. What impressions that calamity made on the public mind may be judged of from the appoint- ment of a day for fasting, humiliation and prayer, to intercede with God to avert it from us. It was perhaps, as solemn a day as was ever seen in South-Carolina. All ranks of people appeared to be strongly aifected, and there was good reason for it. I am sorry, however, to say, that we seem quite to have forgotten it, and to think ourselves perfectly secure, by the present prevailing rage for dissipation. A very good British writer informs us, that the next day after an earthquake m London, which threw the inhabitants into the greatest consterna- tion, the bills were stuck up for the plays and horse-races — an indication of extreme levity in- deed: but I do not think we fall very far short of it. W^e have as \et escaped; but I can see no reason for which we can justly hope to continue in our present situation. For the size of Philadelphia, there is not, per- haps, a city in the world oF more de ent manners, or that has more institutions of a public and use- ful nature, or where the public ofhces of religion are better attended: yet all these were no security. 100 And where, I pray, are the superior public virtues that we can plead, as a reason for exemption from public calamity? No people indeed, in the union, exceed us in pohtcness of manners, and hospitality to strangers: besides these, 1 do not know that we have any other distinguished meru, as a com- munity. But, can we rely on these to screen us from the punishment of our vices? I think we can- not, without the greatest temerity. It is not in the order of Providence to commute with mankind, on the principle of allowing some virtues to bal- ance against their vices. It is not the case with respect to individuals: a single vice destroys the worth of many virtues: and so it is with respect to communities. It appears that some of the people of Philadel- phia are apprehensive that the yellow fever may break out there again, this spring; and that tl:ie apprehension of being again visited by so terrible a calamity, has made ve'*y serious impressions on . the minds of many. What reasons there m.ay be , for that apprehension, I car.nc;t well judge; but if it should return there, it v/ill, perhaps, be more ' difficult for us to guard against tne contagion, than it was before — the principal reason of which opi- nion is, that our trade will probably be confined to i fewer channels than usual, and we shall therefore i be more intent on keeping that open. And should it please God to permit it to come among us, I 101 know not whether it will not be attended with more calamities than perhaps in any state of the union. The very least inconvenience of it would be an entire suspension of our trade, with all nations, during its continuance. Whether we are prepar- ed for such an event, I leave my fellow-citizens to judge. But, whether we are in particular danger or not, I think we ought not so soon to forget the deliverance we have already met with. Our trade is at present very much cramped, and likely to be more so, if the present temper of the British ministry should continue. What change the successes of France, and the sense of the people may make, it is difficult to say; but cer- tainly, nothing but hard necessity will alter the measures, either of the British court, or of any other court of Europe inimical to France and the progress of civil liberty. The present struggle is, perhaps, the last that will ever be made for the support of tyranny. If it succeeds, despotism will probably maintain its ground for ages; if not, it is gone for ever. Our own timidity, indeed, has provoked the wrongs and insults we have already suffered from that imperious nation; and to the same cause may be ascribed all that we yet have to suffer from it. Had we all along maintained the same spirit which gained our independence, we should now be on a footing so respectable as to deter the British, and VOL. 2. o 102 every other nation in the world, from attempting to infringe on our rights of sovereignty. Should Providence, however, intend to rediice us to the necessity of depending on our own resources, and breakolT,in a considerable measure, our iritercourse with foreign nations — though it would probably, in the end, turn out greatly to our advantage — it will bring all the virt'ie and resolution we are pos- sesse.loftoa severer trial than we have yet expe- rienced. We ought therefore to be prepared for the last extremity, by cultivating a firm and manly- spirit, capable of the severest self-denial, for the common good; and especially, by that sobriety of manners which ma) give us som'/ degree of con- fide; 'ce in the care and providence of God. But, while the present taste lor dissipation con- tinues, and so many pu;>lic amusements are en- couraged and frequented we must unavoidably con- tract an effeminacy of spirit and manners, very illy suited to prepare us for the conflict to which we shall probably be called. We have not a single public amusements of a nature suited to raise our minds to great and he- roic actions, worthy of a people who have so late- ly acquired their independence. They ha\e all rather a tendency to depress us into a pusillan- imity, incapable of sustaining so great and imjior- tani a struggle as that of fixing our rights and na- tional character on a respectable footing, against 103 all the efforts of our enemies. Those of the thea- trf, 1 am persuaded, are of tlie most injurious na- ture to those sentiments and manners our present circumstances require. The representations of low life, with which our own in particular so much abounds, and which seem to be those only in which it is capable of making any figure, are ex- tremely far from promoting a generosity and great- ness of mind equal to public 4tfficulties. It is not by low humor, or the representation of the coiTimon incidents of life, that the mind is made conversant with great sentinients, and prepared for great actions. As in real life scenes of low cun- nmg, dissimulation, intrigue, and criminal amours, are always dangerous to tho^c who are not pos- sessed of a resolute and confirmed virtue, so it is in representation; and perhaps in this case more than in that, because, being intended merely to amuse and divert, the mind is, in a measure, put off its guard, and disposed to see and hear the most criminal ur improper things with less disgust than they deserve: and this will especially happen to youth, whose want of experience, love of nov- elty, and impressible temper, render them liable to put a favorable construction on the most impro^ per and da gerous things. It would be easy to shew that most comedies are equally inconvenient, both with respect to a just taste and moral sentiment. This 1 may per- 104 haps, attempt in a separate paper hereafter. For the present 1 dismiss it, and pass to remark, 6. That the present crisis is, perhaps, the most serious and important that the world has ever seen, with respect to civil society. Ii appears as if tiie Supreme Ruler of tiie universe was about to shake all the nations of the earth with some ex- traordinary revolution in the state of civil govern- ment. Such a revolution must undoubtedly take place: for it cannot be thought that the present state of society is that which God originally in- tended. We have seen an important and glorious re- volution among ourselves; but, when compared to that of France, it seems to me as nothing. The scenes that are now acting in that country, and on its borders, are to the highest degree awful and interesting; the spectacle is grand beyond all de- scription; and no attentive observer can view it without a mixture of admiration and terror. A great and celebrated nation, long inured to the chains of despotism, all at once shaking off their fetters, and struggling with unparalleled ardor and bravery against al! Eun pe, is something so singu- lar, that 1 think no language can describe it. That France will succeed in this great conflict, I never had a doubt; and, what must be the conse- quence? All Europe will undoubtedly undergo a revolution; and, if such carnage as has already 10'5 taken place, was necessary for the deliverance of one nation, how great, in all probahility, will that be, which will give freedom to all Europe and the world ! In the present prospect, the mind is held in awful suspense. Let us view it concisely. Almost all Europe m arms, and like to be deluged with blood: our own country in commotion, by the In- dians on the west, the Spaniards on the south, the English government on the north: the British nation and their honorable allies, the Algerines, destroying our trade, and doing all they are capa- ble of to ruin our prosperity and public happiness. Is there nothing, then, in all this to make us seri- ous? If the present state of things cannot make us so, I know not what is sufficient to do it. We ourselves are not yet right; and have therefore good reason so expect a part in the general com- motion of the world. There is no nation upon earth that has not seen great and terrible calamity. I can see no reason why we should expect to escape. But these are painful ideas, which nothing could sug- gest, but a concern for our common happiness. Let us therefore endeavor to be prepared for the will of God. What is proper to be done in our present most interesting situation, I leave to your good sense to determine. I only advise to check the present excessive taste for public amusements, 106 and cultivate that seriousness of temper and pub- lic spirit wliich will best fit us for all events. A severe trial of all the virtue we can possess, is probably not far distant. With the warmest wishes for your prosperity^ I am, my fellow-citizens, your true friend, Sylvanus. March 21st, 1794. 107 HINTS ON EDUCATION, NUMBER I. It must give particular pleasure to every lover @f his country, and the common interests of soci- ety, to observe the spirit for improvements of pubhc utility, which has for some time prevailed among the people of the United States. Never perhaps did any nation, unless we except France since the revolution, make the sam.e advances in the same length of time, as America, since the establishment of her independence. Mechanics, medicine, agriculture and commerce, have been improved with very laudable zeal, and much be- yond what might have been expected, amidst the difficulties in which the late war involved us; and it is to be hoped, that every thing conducive to the common prosperity and happiness, will be pushed forward with every practicable exertion. But, while it is ucknuwledged that we have done exceedingly well, in the subj.-cts above men- tioned, and some others, there is one of very great importance, which has not yet engaged the public 108 attention, as particularly as its influence on tli? state of society might justly demand. What I mean, is, the subject of education. We have, indeed, a considerable number of schools, in most parts of the union, for the instruc- tion of our youth, both in languages and science ; but, whether through the prejudices of the peo- ple at large, or the incompetency cf the instruc- tors, we have not improved in this particular, in any proportion to what has been njade in other j matters of public concern. As if the mode cf education long ago adopted, were competent to ^ every purpose, and incapable of reformation, w^ have gone uniformly on, in the same beaten track with our forefathers, without examining whether they were right or wrong. By this blind veneration for preceding genera- tions and habits, we pertinaciously retain their errors, and justly suffer the inconveniencies which j arise from vv^ant of spirit or capacity to think for ourselves. It is not my design to point out every thing which appears to me erroneous in our present mode of education ; but to mention some of the principal, and propose the means of rectifying them. Nor do 1 think mvself capable of doing this to great advantage; it will be a suflRcient gra- tification, and fully answer my purpose, if the following hints may serve to bring forward the 109 '^ifbject to a fair and candid discussion, by tlio&0 who are more capable of doing it justice. .. The first subject that occurs, in my design, is thatof the dead languages, by which I particularly mean the Latin and Greek. These have been usu- ally considered as of essential consequence in a course of liberal learning, and looked upon as tlie very ground-work of accurate and useful science. How far they are entitled to so much considera- tion, is now to be examined. On this subject two very different opinions have been advanced : the one is that which holds them of essential moment ; the other, that which rejects them as entirely useless. I am inclined to take a middle course between these two extremes, neither thinking them every thing, nor as nothing. The time has been, when a doubt of the essential importance of Latin and Greek, and Aristotle, would have been looked upon nearly as criminal as a doubt respecting an essential article of the Christian faith; and there are, even now, some men who as readily doubt one's learning, for a scruple in the one case, as his orthodoxy for a scruple in the other. But we are not now to be intimidated from giving our opinion in the one case, or the other, by the prejudices of narrow and illiberal minds. The field of discussion is now open to all adventurers, aiid neither literature nor religion can suffer by free enquiry. VOL. 2. f 110 When and how far the Latin and Greek lan- guages ought to make a part in a course of edu- cation, may, I think, be determined in a pretty narrow cornpas^. If a boy have a prompt genius fen- language-, that is, a good memory and ready imi- tation, and it is probable that, after finishmg his ' course, they will be either necessary or considera- bly u^ei'ul to his future occupation, he may be put to learn them, so far as these circumstances may- require. On the contrary, if his n.emory bf bad, if he has a strong aversion against learning them, or it is probable they will be of htile or Uv; use to him in his Future station or business in society, I think ii is highly preposterous to put him to them at all. What he m^^ be able to acquire, will be at the expence ot great labor and disgust ; and, in the mean while, he will sacrific:^ that time which might be employed with pleasure and ad* vantage, in acquiring other branch' s of knowledge suitable both to his genius and prospects. It is in vain to attempt to force genius ; and it is as unreasonable to waste the most important part of a short life, in learning, or trying to learn, that which, when learned, will be of little or no ctJiiscquei'ice. Neither life nor talents lie at our own discretion; and it is both duty and wisdom, to know well how they may both be applitd to the mrjst usfful purposes, so far as Divine Provi- 'dence may allot them to us. This is the first ill branch of knowledge to be aimed at; and he is the happiest who best succeeds, both in p;aining and applying it. The whole, both of tlii^ Lfe and the future, depends immediately upon it. Oi\LSlMUS. l^int^ on (JlJtiucation— No. ii. To study languages merely, or principally for the sake of being reputed a linguist, is a trifling and unprofitable motive. The name of knowing more than other people, may gratify those who are incapable of substantial science; but will poorly repay the trouble and time employed in the acquisition. So far as language is necessary for gaining or communicating useful knowledge, it is worthy of being acquired, and no farther. On this principle, we may proceed to enquire how far the dead languages are entitled to our attention. If the most useful branches of know- ledge are not to be acquired without them ; or, if they are essentially necessary to the forming a good and correct taste in the ornamental and ele- gant arts, they are indeed of considerable moment; and no one can deserve the name of scholar, with- out having acquired them. Let us then see how far they are necessary, in either of these views. il2 For several centuries after the commencement of the Christian era, all the little learning that was- in the world, was to be found chiefly, or entirely, m those languages ; and, even as late as the last cetitury, almost every subject of literature was discussed in the Latin, by tiie learned men in every nation of Europe. Theology, ethics, philosophy^ medicine, and the liberal arts, were industriously concealed from common view, in that language* But the case is now very much altered ; the ave- nues to sc'ience are open to every p-^rson acquainted with the English language, and of capacity and industry to make due advantage of them. Alt the ancient writers of considerable character are translated, with sufficient accuracy, to give us all the sentiments tliey contain, of real importance to- be K.nown. Besides which, I do not know of any subject of consequence, that has not been handled as well in English, as in the Greek or Rcrnian lan- guages. Most of them have undoubtedly been handled much better ; and it is only ignorance or afTectaiion, in my opinion, that can deny it. In theology, the most useful and necessary of all branches of knowledge, there is not one of the ancients who will repay the reader for the trouble of perusing him; nay, who will afford ai.y other advantage than that of knowing the great superi- ority of the Christian system, over that of the most enlightciied nations of antiquiu , and the necessity 11$ of a special revelation to lead mankind to the true. knowledge and worship of God. In ethics they have done something better; but even here, too, ihey are extremely defective ; and one chapter in the New Testament contains more true morality than all they have ever written. I will add, that there is not a Christian of tolerable knowledge in the institutes of the gospel, who is not able to give a better accojnt of the foundation and extent of moral obligation, than either Socrates, Plato, Seneca, or any other of the ancient moralists. In philosophy, taking the word at large, they have done scarcely any thing worthy the perusal of one who has read over the moderns ot most general reputation on this subject. In astronomy and ex- perimental physics, they are not of the least con- sequence; nay, he must be quite at a loss to know how to spend his time, and quite ignorant of the discoveries of the moderns, in our own language, who will spend a single hour in readmg them on the be subjects, unless it be with a view to mark the stages of knowledge in the past ages of the world, and the different nations who have made a figure in the progress of nme. If we consider medicine, and the different branches connected with it, we may pass the same judgment on them, in these, as in the preceding subjects. The vast superiority of the moderns over them, in the knowledge of ana- tomy, and the circulation of the blood, as well as 114 cbvmistrv, renders their writings on this subject of very little moment to a student of physic, in the present age. In short, he who would repair to Hippocraies and G.den, for medical knowledge, at this time, must infallibly lose liis labor ; and if he were to quote them as authorities in practice, n6 would justly be considered as a mere pedant, and worthy of being sent to school to learn the rudi- ments of 'lis profession, rather than be allowi d to prescribe. In oratory and philology, they have performed well; and he who wishes to bo a critic in the theory of these subjects, may find some ad- vantage from reading them. But, as to the latter, all that they have done will give no aid to the learning of our ov/n language; the idiom of it is too remote from that oFboth Latin and Greek, to make these of any use in acquiring it. And as to oratory, I am of opinioii, that nothing is to be found among them, superior to exampiCs among ourselves and the French, in the course of the late revolutions. Their discourses, in many instances, bear the marks of great genius and spirit; but tew of them can be of much use to a modern orator, who has before him examples better suited, both to the genius of our language and government.. On the whole, in any subject of real import- ance, though our curiosity may be gratified by reading them, our ust-f il knowledge will be very little advanced: and this circumstance is ui> 115 doubtedly the criterion by which we are to be determined in forming our judgment of their im- portance to us. Onesimus^ ^int$ on €tJmation— No. III. The preceding remarks have been made in a general view of our subject ; the following will be more particular, and serve to aid us m forming a decisive judgment upon it. The professions in which the Latin and Greek languages have usually been considered of very- great, if not indispensable importance, are these: In the study and practice of medicine : if it should be said tliat they are not essential, or greatly useful in this subject, it might seem to im- ply a reflection on that excellent and useful sci- ence, in which they have generally been very much used. It is, indeed, to be regretted, that a science of so much utility to mankind, has been industri- ously concealed from common viev/", under the veil of these dead languages; and for no other apparent end, than to keep up the appearance of great mystery in the profession ; when, in fact, all the useful knowledge in it, depends entirely on ob- servation, and Will be always best acquired by those who are most attentive to the appearances, ©r, in the medical style, to the s) niptoms of dis- 116 eases, and the medicines which have been fovmd by experience the most effectual in reUeving them. It ivS, however, much to the honor of it's pro- fessors, that for at least fifty years past, it has been gradually putting off its Tlarlequin dress, and appearing in a garb, plain and comprehensible by common understandings. Physicians of the greatest note have conde- scended, within that period, to speak and write a little like men who thought their profession of importance to be understood by those who are not so profoundly learned as themselves. In some of the latest and most u>cful medical books that the world has ever seen, a very great number of the useless and pedantic terms, formerly made use of, are laid- aside, and plain English used in their room; and the consequence is, that people of common knowledge peruse them, without any fear of being concerned in the crime of magic: and, if the whole of them were from this time to be rejected, I know not what inconvenience would arise, either to the world at large, or to physicians the ii selves. Though a great number of the names of dis- eases, and the parts of t!ie human body, are in Latin or Greek; I cannot conceive why mere English words would not aiswer t-qually vv-ell, to convey a just and clear ilea of them. Supposing, instead of recipe, the word give was used ; or for 117 cataplasm, plaister; for spasm, cramp ;• or for sy- noc'iiis, coiititiQil fever; aal a th^asa id otlier in- stances : would the profession lose either of dig- nity, or utility ? I am persuaded it would not. Besides, if these learned terms must be continued, there are medical lexicons, treatises, Sec. in great plenty, in which the student may acquire, in the course of reading, all tl^ie words necessary to his purpose, without reading a classic anthor, or learning a single grammar rule. By this means the labor and time of three or four years at school, ma> be saved, for acquiring ideas, instead of mere words. In this way, the student v/ill sooner gain the knowledge of his profession, and the world the benefit of it. if a young gentleman, indeed, should purpose to go to Edinburgh, for the honor oF signing himself M. D. it will be necessary to publish a Latin thesis on some medical subject, before the university can declare him worthy of that honor. But, even in this case, he need be under no apprehension; as, for a small sum of mo- ney, he may readily avoid the labor of the Latin, if he can only make the English part himself. But, as people begin to think such forms of very litile consequence, all tliis parade may be very v.^ell spared, and a young man may come forth as a practitioner, with as much credit to himself, and advantage to society, as if he had visited tlie peace- full and free shores ot Great Britain. VOL. 2. 0. 118 In fine, it is a particular genius for the profes- sion, and not eit ::t'r Latin or Greek, that will qua- lify him for appearing in it with honor and suc- cess. They may, therefore, very well be dis- pensed with, unless there be a particular taste for literature: even this will be more fur embellish- ment, than utility, in the profession. Onesimus. l)it\ti on t that occurs, is with respect to grammar. I do not oppose the teaching of grammar, which is very useful in its place ; hut strongly object against the time in which it is commo.ily introduced, which is at the first entrance on the language to be learned. This custom must proceed on tne supposition that grammar is the foundation of language, which is vindoubtcdly a common opinion : but so far is this from being true, that it is inerely a collecTuni of observa'ions on the language it is made for, and supposes it to be already acquired. If the 12 zo knowledge of grammar rules led on to the know- le^lge of a language, in as regular a train, and as certainly as first principles or propositions in geo- metry lead to certain conclusioi'.s, this metliod would be proper enough; and nothing more would be necessary for the learner, than a perfect know- ledge of the grammar of any language, and tlie lan- guage itself might be easily acquired by mere dint of good reasoning. But reas >ning is so far from having any thing to do in the matter, that the whole entirely depends on a good memory and prompt imitation. By these alo^ie children learn to speak and read what is called their native language; and in the same manner, undoubtedly, the dead languages ought to be acquired, and no other. When a language is already learned, then is the proper time to enter on grammar, and not before. I will su-^tain this sentimeiU by the au- thority ofa writer of unquestionable weight in subjects of literature. " In teaching a language, it is tlie universal practice to begin with grammar, and to do every thing by rule. I affirm this to be a most prepos- terous method. Grammar is contrived for men, not for children. lis natural place is between language and logic ; it ought to ulose lectures on the former, and lo be the first lecture on the lat- ter. It is a gross deception, that language can- not be taught without ri.les."* * Lord Kaimt's kcse hinis, Slc, 124 Instead of tormenting a boy for five or six months, wah the dry and barren rules of a Latin or (rreek grammar, at ti.e very beginning of his course, let him be furnished with a good collection of single words, and phrases, comprehending what may be necessary to prepare hrni ior entering on the reading of some plain and easy book, in wnich he ought to be continued, till he has completely mastered it. From thai, let him be advancetl to another of more various phraseology, and so on, till he is able to read the most useful authors in the language he is learning. This, in spight of prejudice, I am persuaded, is the most natural, and effectual method. At any time after the learner is able to read different authors, with to- ler ible ease and propriety, let him become ac- quainted with grammar, that he may be accurate in its p'.'culiar idiom and construction. This me- thod will, indeed, give the teacher a little mt>re trouble than the common way; but, if he cannot submit to it, he ought to relinquish his profession. Another error freqaently committed in teach- ing these languages, is, to refuse the learner th.e use of translations. How men of undersianding could have fallen into this impropriety, 1 cannot well discover. An unknown language is to be learned, only by changing or traii>l aingthe words and piirases beloni^mg lo it, into that whicii is al- ready known, and the more eiiaetly and frequently 155 this is clone, the soor.er will that language be gained, whether it be living or dead. To oblige a boy to sit down with a graminar and dictionary, to hammer out a long and intricate sentence, in Latin or Greek, before he has male any considerable progress, is insufferable and most vmprolitabie drudgery; and though he should be able to make out the order of the words, he will necessarily take them in their most literal mean- ing; which, considering the wide difference there is between the idioms of the Latin and Greek, and our own language, must, in a great variety of in- stances, be not only very inelegant, but quite un- grammatical. It is the duty of the teacher, either to go over the sentence himself, till the learner can translate it with propriety and spirit; or, which is much better, let him have the best translation that can be had lying before him, till he is fully master of his lesson. I have often known boy^ to be obliged to waste a whole day in learning two or three short sentences in a very plain author, by being refused every help but a dictionary; when, v/ith a translation, they would have learned more than as many pages. Where a master has twenty or thirty boys under his care, it is impossible he can do them justice, Without allowing them the use of translations at pleasure. Otherv/ise, with all his skill and diligence, and allowinjr them to pos- sess ever so prompt a genius, their proficiency must VOL. 2. R 126 be slowly made, and with great irksomeness and labor. Onesimus. ^int^ on proceed on, afterwards, at liis leisure and convenience. A mastery in tl em, or even a tolerable facility in reading them, can be ,8:ained only by long and diligent application. This is espt cially the case with regard to t ^e (ire k, wiich very few learn to considerable correctness. Nor is it to be sup- posed, that the design of reading classic authors at school, is to acquire the sentiments or informa- tion contained in them. If this indeed, be the case, it is extremely injudicious, as a great part of those usually jjut inio the hands ol b >) s, are far above their years and c;»pacitie> ; and if it were even possible fur tnem thoroughly lo understand 127 what they read, they will not make amends for the time and lao^r expeiidcd op. taeni, to tue ne- glect of t ings of muci higher importance. Reading at a grammar school is with a vif w to language itself: when that .s samcienily acquired, then is th.e time to inculcate science. It is suffi- ci.-nt employmxCnt for the It arner to render his au- thor into good English, without puzzling himself with reflections and criticisjTis, which are the pro- per business of a more advanced stage oi eda- cati'.>n. If a language can be sufficieutly learned at school, by reading tiiree or f >ur g )(]d autrors. I can see no reason why the time of the scholar should be employed in doing a httle at te>\ or a dozeii. This, indeed, may favor the reputation of the teacher, and flatter parenis with an high opinion of the geuius 'ud proiiciency of their chil- dren; and tht^se, I believe, are the principal ends to be answered by suci) a way of reading. To say that a boy has read, m the course of lour or flve \ eirs, Corderius, Erasmus, Eutropius, C N'e- p s, Justin, Sallust, Goes n% Ovid, Virgil, Horace, Juve lal, and perh ips half as many Greek autiiors, mak'^s a considerable sound ; and one would t: ink such a boy must be quite a master of language, and i great critic. But tl^is commonly is, %wx H praterea ?ii/iii; and the only benous meaning in 128 It, is, that the boy has lost a great deal of precioui time. Instead of this pernicious parade of authors at a grammar school, I think 1 can name three or four wliich,if well read, will be more beneficial to the learner, at diis stage of the business, than all the others, as they are commonly run over : I mean Eutnjpius, C. Nepos, that excellent collection cal- led Selectee e Projanis^ and C-cevo's C'fFue>. He who cari transl'ite these with promptness and spi- rit, into clear and correct English, will, with very litde trouble, be able to read any prose author in the language, and may immediately proceed to other studies — suppose the Roman antiquities, ge 'grap^ y,t'ae elemenis -f chronology, arithmetic and geometry, as his genius and the judgment of the teac! :er may point out. As to the Greek, the gospels and epistles of St. John, in the New Testament, and Xenophon's Cy- ropcedia or Anabasis, will be sufficient for the course at the grammar school. If any other may be added, I would prefer select parts of what is called the Septuagint. The particular advantage of limiting the learner to a few bookb, is evidently this, that, by going over them repeatedly, which he ought to (\o^ till he can read them with as much ease and pro- priety as an author in his native language, his work becomes light and pleasant, and his progress pro- 129 portlonably rapid. Nor is it an objection of any force, that, in iiis way, he is confined to a conti- nual sameness of phraseology and style. The business of the learner, at this tirae, is to know the terms and construction of the language, which he may do sufticiently for his purpose, as well by reading three or four autnurs, as twenty. Atten- tion to the pecuUaritles of "style in different writers, must generally be delayed till the proper time for criticism, to which it properly belongs. Connected with the error i have just consi- dered, is that of introducing the poets at an ear- lier stage of classical learning, than boys can be supposed capable of reading them. Nothing ap- pears to me more useless and unreasonable than this custom. Poetry is properly no distinct part of language, but merely an artificial arrangement of the terms of it, accompanied with the embellish- ments of figure. Language may be perfectly learned without ever reading a line of poetry. Besides, if it were ever so useful, there is not one in an hundred, possessed of a particular taste for reading it, much less of a talent for composing m it, which is a gift of nature, and not to be acquired. Even where it is bestowed, I believe it would ge- nerally be better to suppress, than encourage it. Farther, the reading of the poets is usually at- tended with an expence of labor and time, for which they very seldom recompence the learner. .130 The particular measure they write in must be learne,], and every line scru[)u]ously scannec!. by the rules of prosody, than which, lo most rtadt-rs, there is no exercise more irksome and insipid ; and when it is dime, there is nothing at all gained. Way this practice should be more necessary in reading the Latin and Gre(.-k poets, than the En- glish, I an yet to Lari; a id yet it is very certain that the latter mav be read to t!ie best advantage, without knowing a single rule of prosody. If the 1 p'lc'ts were even as easily learned as the plainest prose writer, stiU t.ierc are very material objec- tions against the most noted of them tliatare C"m- m ) ily read at schools. 1 speak now pariiculurly of the Latin. Ovid's Metamorphoses are perfi ctly wild and exirava^j'ant, and serve only lo fill tiie heads of bovs \v\ia tne most unnatural aid un^jhi- Iosoi)hical notions, at t :e very time wiien thev are m-)St easily seduced iron tile love of truth and re- ality. If fiction is proper at ail, at tnis period, it ought to be very sparingly used, and be at leas: re- I concileable with probability. As for Llorace, his general character is that of a loose epicurean, and he is often in the hig'iest degree indelicate. Biit, if there vvere no objection a;2;ainst him in this res- pect, liis pieces are geiierally finished in so high a strain of poetry, that it is most unreasonable to suj^pose bovs capable of rt-ading him to advan- tage, ai a time wiien they have enough to do to 131 make out a tolerable llttral translation, which must ever fall v^ery far short of tiie spirit of tae original. For the same reason Virgil is of mo man- ner fjf use, at the time we is commnil) intruduced at sc !Ool. If a ly part )f uim can be tolerably un- drrsioo.l, it is hi^ Eiieid, as being narrative; bat, instead of only five or six b-';oks, the whole of it should be read, that a general idea may be had of the construction of the poem ; and when this is known, it is jast of as much consequence, as to know the construction of Csesar's bridge over the R'line. Many masters would have it believed, and pa- rents gen.erelly do believe, that boys are doing great things, and are quite adepts in the Latin, when they are advanced so far as to read these poets, especially Horace; and, if tliey coidd read them well, it woiJd be really true; but it is on every side mere deception: they can be well read b)' none but proficie:Us in literature. If a variety of authors be necessary at the grammar-school, those c)f history and biography are the easiest and most useful. Almost every one has some taste for books of this kind, and may less or more find ad- vantajT;e from reading them. On the whole, if the poets must be read at all, m the course of education, the proper time is to Nards the close, when it mav be supposed the language they wnte in, and other furniture neces- 132 saiy for understanding them, have been previously pretty well acquired. OXESIMUS. l^inti on €tiucation— No. vii. That what has been advanced on the poets may not be considered as mere assertion, it is thoiight proper to examine the subject a little further, for sake of those who have not particu- larly attended to it. I grant to poetry, lively de- scription, fine imagery, pathos and sublimity, and the advantage of impressing moral and religious sentiments with peculiar energy, where the taste of a good poet leads him to those subjects. But, as there are very few great poets, so there are very few good readers of poetry; that is, who can en- ter into the spirit of a fine composition so as to feel something as the author felt while he was about it: if they are not capable of this, they will read to little purpose. It is mere assertion in Dr^den, that none but a poet can be a judge cf poetry; because there are many examples in the records of literature, to prove the countrary. But, so lar as this must be granted, that, if any one who is not possessed of some natural taste and talent that way, ever be- comes capable of just an.! accurate criticism in such composition, it must be by long and various 153 reading in works of literature, joined to a strong and correct judgment. Of fifty boys at a grammar school, there is ncr doubt that each one will be able to translate, in a certain way, every author that is put into hig hands, till he has run through the destined course, and is announced to the world as a classic scnolar: but, their translations of the poets will generally be as much like the originals, as the outlines of a portrait are like the same, after it has received the last touch of the pencil. What a great genius may do, is not in question; such instances very rarely happen; and we are speaking only of the bulk of learners, to whom neither great talents, nor a fine taste, nor a capacity of extensive literature, are allotted, in the distributions of Providence, or ne- cessary to their destination in life. And it is as much out of the order of nature to suppose that every boy at school should be capable of reading a Latin, Greek or an English poet, with discernment of its beauties, as that he should comprehend fluxions or conic sections, or be a correct judge of paint- ing or music. Nature must as necessarily be con- sulted, and her inclinations followed, in a course of education, as in the pursuits of business: and her direction in the one case, or the other, cannot be opposed, without confu^^ion and detriment. Notwithstanding this reasoning, which I think is supported by unquestionable fctct, I have heard VOL 2. s 134 of teachers who professed such skill in their busi- ness, as to be able to teach boys to read the poets, in a year or two after their entrance on the Latin. But, to say ti:e least, this appears to me a vt^ry random way of speaking. Let a teachtr r himself possf-ss what ability he may, he cannot command the genius of his i:)upil; he must find it ready to his purpose, or all his skill and diligence, and fair promises, will turn out abortive. If there be, within the city of Charleston, five boys, from the age of twelve to sixteen years, who are able, after from three to five years instruction at the Latin school, to read any one of the classic poets with correctness, ease and taste, I believe not one more can be added to the number. Nay if one such can be found, who is possessed of not more than a common genius, I will allow that the laboratory of a ch-mist may convert tin into sil- ver, and copper into gold. Shall 1 be permitted to ask those gentlemen who talk so tamiharly of the great masters of an- cient jx)etry, wnether the same qualifications tnat will enable a boy to read the lives ot NV pos, or the commentaries of Cxsar, will enable him lo read, with equal propriety, the pastorals of Virgil, or the odes of Llorace? l>r, whedier it is probable that he whose taste or curiosity has not prompted hm», by either ot u.e ages above mentioned, to read with aiitntion seme poctm his own language, 135 if it has fallen in his way, will be capable, in four or five years, of reading to any desirable pur- pose, the most finished poems, in a language he does not understand? Let us suppose a boy, of the common run of genius, to hit on the following lines of Milton: — " These oracles are dumb " No voice or hideous hum, " Runs thro' ^he arched roof, in words deceivlnpj ; •• No nij^htly trance, or breathed speil, " Inspires the pah -ey'd priest from ihe prophetic cell, " In consecrated earth, ^ " And on the holy hearth, " The Lares and Lemuics nioan vviUi midnight plaint ; " In urns and aUers round '' A drear and d\ ing sound "Affrights the Flammes at their service quaint."* What would he make of these solemn, airy images; or by what language could they be con- veyed to his mind, if nature had not prepared a warm and impressible imagination to receive them? Without this, they can no more be distinctly con- ceived of, and felt, than cold iron can receive the lively impression of a seal. And yet, in almost every p ige of the ancient poets, there are images as far above the reach of a common genius, as these. Norcanihey be understood, by any geni- us whatever, without a correct acquaintance with * On the morning of Christ's nativity. 136^ those parts of mythology, religion or philosophy, on which they are raised. 1 conclude this sub- ject, with observing, that, while it is thought ne- cessary to continue the use of the poets at school, the learner ou^ht to be prepared for them, by read- ing some of the best in his own language, in which may be obtained all the pleasure and advantage that can be found in the poetry of any nation, or age, whatsoever. Onesimus ^int^ on (iJtiucanon— No. viii. As immediately connected with the poetry of the Greeks and Romans, we may spend a few thoughts on their Mythology. In this I include the whole system, or rather chaos of their religi- ous opinions, as they are handed down to us, by their most celebrated poets. To these there are allusions m almost every page of their writings, and many of their most brilliant passages are wholly composed of them. Indeed, if they were to be stripped of these fig- ments, there would be little left in them for the entertainment of the fancy, or the use of modern poets. But, whatever embellishment they may give to composition, or scope to imagination, they grossly contradict the first principles, both of rea- son and religion j show^ in a most convincing light, J37 how far it is possible for the human mind to be infatuated, in the full exercise of all its natural powers; and the necessity of revelation to teach the true knowledge of the one undivided cause, and most pure and beneficent ruler of the uni- verse. Instead of giving rational entertainment to a mind possessed of the love of truth and consis- tency, they must ever offend it; instead of aiding reason, they embarrass it; they disorder and sti- mulate the passions instead of calming them, and countenance vice rather than encourage virtue. In short, there can be little doubt, that the poets, by these fictions, have done more mischief lo the world, than the rest of their writings have done good. Their bold figures, flights of fancy, and animated descriptions, cannot make amends for the representations they give of the disorderly and impetuous passions, the jealousies, the brawls, the intrigues, the cruelty and violence of those ima- ginary beings, whom they placed in the higher regions, as the directors of the world. Cicero very justly blames Homer for ascribing the frailties and vices of mankind to the gods, in- stead of ascribing the virtues of the gods to men. And certainly, if fiction on this subject may be al- lowed at all, it is better to suppose a little too much in favor of human nature, than any thing which may sink our ideas of the supreme power: 13^ yet, there is not one of their greatest poets, who has not given us reason to think, that several of their principal divinities, if they really existed, would be great nuisances lo the univerbC. The fiction of Venus alone, has done irreparable injury to the morals of mankmd; and were she really in being, it might well be wished that she had no concern with this part of the creation.* Now, it ap|)cars to me as evident as any first principle in science, that nothing ought to be learned, in a course of education, that must neces- sarily be unlearned: and yet, this m'lst be done with regard to the whole of the ancient mytho- logy. There are two or three important truths to be picked out of it — that there is a supreme power — that he presides over the world, and that he is to be revered — all the rest is contusion and contradicdon. It places Jupiter at the head of the universe; yet says he married his sister, and banished his father, after treating him with much greater violence. Venus it calls the goddess of beauty, love and mirth; yet, she was the patroness of obscenity and licentious gratification. Mercury was the god of eloquence, merchan- dize, &c. ; at the same time a great knave, and the patron of thieves: he used to divert the celestials with telling them his tricks. * See, in particular, the history of the Babylonians and Cyprians. 139 Vulcan, another of their divinities, but a more useful character than most of them, was born of the incestuous marriage of Jupiter andJuno; but, having displeased his father, he was kicked out of the celestial mansion, and fell upon the island of Lemnos, where he erected a foundery, forged thunder-bolts for his father, and taught tlie Lem- nians to be blacksmiths. This is a sample of the divinity of the Greek and Roman poets, and is quite of a piece with their other fables on this subject. Had they set themselves industriously to quench every ray of reason, and confound the universe, they could not have devised any thing more to their purpose. They were not, indeed, the inventors of this con- temptible jargon; they had collected the materials of it, in a course of ages, from the Egyptians and Phenicians, but so perfectly distorted by the first Grecian poets, that not a trace of its original mean- ing remained, after they had given it a form, agree- able to their warm and capricious imaginations. May we not now ask, where is either the pro- priety or advantage uf addressing such fables, so perfectly remote from all probability, to tiie minds of youth, at a time when they are just setting out in the pursuit of knowledge, are ircapable of dis- tinguishing fiction from reahty, or trutli frc)m er- ror, and more easily impressed by those things which amuse the fancy and stimulate the pas- 140 sions, than those which inform and strengthen the understanding? Can it be reasonable to embarrass the mind in its first enquiries, by presenting it with ideas which have no archetype in the nature of things, but are the mere vagaries of distempered fancy? If the road to useful science be plain and open before us, it seems to argue rather a strange way of thinking, to leave it, at our first setting out, to take a devious range through dark and intricate ways, where, at every step, we are bewildered and entangled, and our time lost. It does not seem suificient to say, that maturity of judgment will correct those early misapprehensions, and recover the mind to the love of reality and truth. It is no easy matter to dispossess it of its first prejudices, by any force of reason that can be applied to it. With strong reluctance it breaks off its attachment to the airy images of fancy, however inconsistent with reason, or injurious to happiness. Of this we have abundant evidence, in the use which is constantly made, in our writings, conversation, and works of art, of the heathen divinities. VV^e every day hear of Jupiter with his thunder-bolts, Venus with her charms and Cupids, and Mars with his arms and fury. We speak of them as seriously as if they really existed, and as frequently as if our language was too barren without them, lo express our meaning. To say tlie least, the use of this artificial language is great U'lfling. If tnis were 141 all, there would be less to say against it. Butj in many instances, it is used as the vehicle of ideas which corrupt our reason, and endanger our virtue. To talk of Jupiter as ruling the world, of IMars as conducting armies and battles, and of Minerva as inspiring wisdom, is irreligious. And to invoke Venus, or to allude to her in her most popular character, is indecent, and an offence to good manners; and it is grossly so, in painting, to degrade and prostitute that elegant and beauti- ful art, by representations of that divinity, or her intrigues, or any other of the lewd fictions of anti- quity: and yet, unhappily for the artists and soci- ety, this is very frequently done, to the great en- tertainment of light and dissipated minds. On the whole, it would be easy to show, by descending to particulars, that, instead of gaining any useful information, or any aids to our virtue, from the heathen mythology, we suffer considera- ble detriment; and this is likely to be so much the greater, as it is earlier addressed to the mind. While, therefore, we continue to use the poets iu the early stages of education, our youth must necessarily be initiated into the mysteries of folly, it would be well to obviate, as far as possible, the inconveniencies they have a tendency to produce. For this purpose, it should be the care of every teacher, as soon as the learner enters on the poets, to explain every particular in their mythologv, VOL. ^, T 142 Hagreeable to its original meaning among the peo- ple who invented it; as well as the different forms it assumed, and the applications made of it, in different nations of the ancients ; and this should always be done in such a manner as to impress a conviction of its absurdity, and the great utility of revelation and sound philosophy, which have rescued us from the errors and darkness of anti- quity, when tlie human mind had no other guide than its own defective and erroneous reasoning. I have known teachers so injudicious and im- prudent, as to entertain their pupils with the ab- surdities of the ancient mythologies, as if they had been principles of sound and necessary science. Such impropriety has a very ill effect on the vola- tile and curious minds of young people. While the teacher treats such things in a way of jest and diversion, the learner will be sure to consider them as very interesting. While it may be necessary, for sake of under standing the ancients, to give some account of these fictions, the teacher ought to guard the pupil against those passages which are most hazardous to his virtue. The least that can be said of them is, that they unprofitably consume a great deal of time. If these hints should be continued to any length, 1 may probably give some specimens of the manner ol explaining the ancient mythology. 143 In the mean time, I wisli the subject may be seri- ously taken up, by all who are concerned in the edacaiion of youth. Custom may have taught us to consider it as but of little moment; but mature examhiation will set it in a very different light. OwtSIMUS. l$int^ on o^tiucation— No. IX. Insteau of spending so much time as is usu- ally devoted to learning a little of the Latin and Greek, I should think it much more useful to cul- tivate our own language. It is in this that we are to acquire and communicate all our practical know- ledge, and transact the business of our respective stations and employments; it should therefore be the first part of education to learn it well. If the others, through veneration for antiquity, must be added, let them be allowed no more time than their real utility to us will justly demand, but not an hour to the prejudice of our own. Yet, it has been the common custom to treat those as things of the very first consequence, while this generally has been either entirely neglected, or only occa- sionally attended to, as a thing that must come of cour^e, as naturally as children learn to walk, whether they are taught or not. * 144 By this inversion of a just and natural order, I have Irequently known young men, who had finish- ed their course at college with the repatation of being good scholars, obliged to enter into some sphere of business, under the great and reproach- able disadvantage of knowing very little of the language in which they were to discharge all the duties of it: wdiereas, had that been early and carefully cultivated, with the same talents and knowledge, they would probably have been many times more useful and respectable. It is a great mistake to suppose, as seems com- nionly done, tl\at a man cannot be entitled to the reputation of a scholar, withovu having conversed with the Greek and Roman authors. For almost any useful purpose, we are as little in need of them now, as they were of us in their time. If all the useful knowledge they possessed, has been trans- ferred to our own language, I cannot conceive why we should think it necessary to be at the trouble of learning ^/zcir'5, merely to know how they wrote and spoke. But, there are some who prefer any thing that bears the stamp of antiquity, to the most useful modern improvements; just as a brain-sick ai:iti- quarian would rather handle a supposed Roman medal, than the most valuable piece of current money, how^ever necessary to his pocket; or tra- verse the ruins of an old tower or castle, rather 145 than see the most elegant and convenient structure of modern architecture. But this is an argument of a diseased, rather than a sound state of miiid. However, that I may not be thought to violate that old frivolous adage, De mortuis nil nisi bo- iium^^ let them have their place; where we cannot do without them, or will receive benefit equivalent to the time spent in learning them, let them be learned. It is wise to derive all the advantage we can from the labors of those who have gone be- fore us: bat while they are deemed of consequence enough to merit a place in a course of education, let it be such as will not interfere with the pre- cedence to which our own language is, in all res- pects, entitled. It would therefore appear to be a regulation of utility, that every boy who is learning the Latin and Greek, should be obliged, at least once every day, to perform an exercise in English, m some approved author, from whom he might learn both language and sentiment. Of such there is a great variety, and more easily to be found than in the dead languages. They should be in biography, in history, civil, or natural, moral, sentimental, fabulous or real, in poetry or prose; and, after the time proper for a critical acquaintance with gram- mar, every exercise of reading should be followed by one illustrating the construction of the language. * We must say noticing to the disadvantage of the dead. 146 In a course of this kind, continued for a sufficient time, the learner might be made acquainted with the best writers, suited to his years and prospects. This would early give him an habit of speaking and writing his own language with propriety and ease; and furnish him with useful knowledge, easily acquired, because conveyed in the language most natural to him. Thai the English can supply as good a set of classics, as those languages which have so long maintained the preference in our schools, cannot be doubted, by any one who thinks our own as fully adequate to our necessities, as the Greek and Roman were to the people who spoke them; and that the genius of modern times is not inferior to that of the ancient. If Paradise Lost were used insiead of the Iliad, or Eneid; or, Pope's transla- tion of th»e one, or, Dryden's of the other, for the original; or, Milton's Lycidas, Cnmus, I'AUegro, or II Penseroso, for the odes of Horace; or, the Essay on Criticism for the Art of Poetry; wherCf I ask, would be the detriment to the learner? Or, would nut Dyer, Gray, West, Cowper, and many others that might be named, be superior m all res- pects, for the use of those who had a taste for poe- try? i am certain that not one of the classic poets is so well entitled to a reading, as those elegant and moral moderns. 147 In every other species of writing, it wonld be easy to point out a number of moclenis, in our own language, equal, nay preferable, as to our use, to any thing of the same kind, among either the Greek or Roman writers. Next to the Enghsh, it appears to me that the French, on every account, deserves the preference. Our connection with them, at present, and the probabUity that it will be more intimate; the num- ber of people who speak it now among us; the commerce we carry on with them; the excellency of their writings, and the similarity of the princi- ples of government to our's; render the knowledge of their language more imp )rtant to us, than that of any other nation, ancient or modern. Whether, therefore, we learn the dead languages, or not, that will justly merit the second place, in all our schools. And, as there are, in every populous town, on the continent, persons capable of teach- ing it's true pronunciation, it may very soon be learned, by any one of a tolerable genius. Onlsimus. 148 Ijint^ on <2Jt>ucattott— No. X. Having hinted, in a preceding number, my in- tention to give a few specimens of the manner of explaining the ancient mythology, I shall employ this for the purpose. As far as history throws any light on this sub- ject, the Egyptians seem the best entitled to the honor of being its inventors, or at least of laying the foundation on which the whole fabric has been erected. With them, indeed, it was a very differ- ent thing from what we fi id in the Greek and Ro- man authors, or any of the ancient nations who adopted ii from them. It happened in this case, as it has frequently in others, that a thing rational and important, in its first institution, by the mis- apprehensions of succeeding times, has been per- verted to purposes entirely different from its origi- nal intention. Tlie principles of the ancient my- thology appear to have originated partly from a sense of religion, and partly from the wants of society. The Egyptians, as probably all other nations, had retained from tradition some kn )wledge of a supreme power and providence; ai.d being desti- tute of any current writing, they made us( of cer- tain rude sculptures, or paintings, to express tlieir ideas on these subjects, and others which con- 149 cerned the common good. As the symbol oF the supreme being, or that influence which actuates the universe, and provides for the wants of man- knid, they painted the eye, a sceptre, a charioteer, a circle, or a figure representing the sun. This last, it is probable, they considered either as really the principle of universal life and motion, or as the most proper representative of it. But, how- ever this might be, it makes a principal figure iii their hieroglyphics. The following explanation is on the principles of the elegant and philosophical Le PlucJie^ who has given a more satisfactory account of this sub- ject, than any other writer. The Lower Egypt was subject to an annual inundation of the Nile, which, while it became the means of their subsistence, obliged them to retreat for three months to the higher grounds, and there wait for the return of the water to its channel. The rising of the Dog-star was the signal of the approaching inundation, and warned them to pre- pare for their flight. With the symbol which represented this im- portant event, they connected others expressive of the winds which blew at the rise or falling of the water, the source from whence it proceeded, or the inconveniencies and advantages that attended it. At length they invented characters for all the seasons of the year, and the works proper for vol.. 2. u 150 them respectively ; which diversified according to tht-ir particular intentions, furnished a sort oi regu- lar history of the year. The whole of these public signs were reduced to three names, each ol which comprehended a particular set of character- ; they were Osiris, Isis and liorus. Tne first signified directioii, go- vernment, dominion; and eidier intended God, or providence, the influence of the sun, or course of the solar year. Jsis meant eitlier the }.rolific power of nature, which productrth all things; or the course of the civil year, that is, the fesiivals which were instituted either to commemorate par- ticular events, or to celebrate that beneficence which provides for the wants of man. Horns sig- nifies work in general, and was diversified into a great variety of figures, pointing out husbandry, or the arts that contribute d to the necessities or converiiencies of society, or other particulars of commoa utility. These public instructors were well enough un- derstood by the people who fir^t used them ; but, being misapprehended bv succeeding generations, and people of other countries, tiiey assumed new forms, and were characterized by names whicli had no longer any important meaning. Egypt being at that time the granary of the world, was resorted to by j)eo['le of all the adja- cent countries, for the principal necessaries of 151 life: by which means, t'.eir symbolical language was gradually introduced into every country, where their produce was carried. The Phenicians and Syrians first, the Greeks afterwards, and then the Romans, became their pupds, adopted their figures, without understand- ing them, and api)lied what was at first sericjus and instructive, to mere amusement and pernicious trifling. la their progress through different nation:->, Osiris beca ne Jupiter, Jehov; Ammon, Neptune, Pluto, Baal, Moloch, Dagon, Achad, or liadad, Adonis, Atvs, 8ic. Isis was transformed into Juno, Diana, Mi- nerva, Venus, Ceres, Cybele, Astarte, Aslueruth, Atergatis, and a number of other goddesses and imaginary females. And Horns became /Vpollo; Mar^, Bacchus, Dionysus, Menes, Minos, Mem- non, and several others. To which may be added, that the symbol of the Dog-star assumed tlie names of Thot or Tay- aut, Anubis, Mercury, Marcol, Hermes, Camilius, Esculapius, 8^c. All t'lese, in process of ti ne, att lined the lionor of being thought real person- ages, who had done im^ ortant services to man- kind; were given a place in history, and revered as beneficent divinities, the governors of the world. How far they deserved the rank assigned to them, and the honors and devotion paid them, will ap- 15S pear by a particular explanation of their names, and real ciiaracters, as to be hereafter raentioned. Onesimus. l^int§ on (i^tiucatiott— No. XI. As a sample of the manner in which the anci- ent mythology may be most rationally explained, I have selected the following characters, viz. Mer- cury, Minerva, the Muses, the Graces, the Parccc-, or Destniies, and Esculapius. And I have made choice of these, as admitting of a more concise explanation, and serving more directly to shew the probability of the principles assumed for explain- ing the whole system. Mercury, the Marcol of the Phenicians, and Hermes of the Greeks, was the son of Jupiter and Maia, according to the mythology, the god of elo- quence, the messenger of the gods, 8ic. He had, indeed so many offices assigned him, both among the mortals and immortals, the dead and the living, that he used to complain that he had no rest, either by d'.y or night, wiiich was not much like a divi- nity. But, if we redtice him to his proper character, we shall disburden him of all this care, and leave him nothing more to do, than what might be done by a mere mortal-. 15S Stripped of his adventitious characters, he was only a symbol of the Dog-star, which warned the Egyptians to retreat from the approaching inun- dation of the Nile. They called him Anubis, Tliot, or Hanobroch, the Barker, Monitor, 6ic, In his hand they placed a caduceus, staff, or wand, the measure of the height of the river, surmount- ed with wings, as the symbols of the winds, and entwined with a serpent, or serpents, as the em- blem of the subsistence or support of life: and this is always the meaning of that animal, in the Egyp- tian hieroglyphics. The mistake arose from the ambiguty of the word, which siginfies either life, or a sefpent. His measuring rod being mistaken by the Greeks for a scf ptre, or staff of dignity, he was considered as a person of authority and influ- ence, and employed in offices of a public nature. The Greeks, mistaking also his original name, as the Monitor, &cc. supposed him to be a great pub- lic speaker, and called him Hermes; from which it was an easy step to put him at the head of elo- quence. Why they made him director of the pub- Dc roads, merchandize, 6cc. may be easily account- ed for, on the mistake already mentioned. Minerva^ in the mythology, was the goddess of wisdom, the liberal arts, spinning, weaving, &.c, and laid mankind under great obligations to her, for her many useful inventions: for which she has been sufficiently honored, by being ranked as a 154 divinity. But she was, m fact, an I sis, or figure of a woman placed in public, bv the side of Honis^ and holding in lier hands a weaver's beam, as the public sign of cloth-making. The Greeks called her afterwards, Athene^ lineji-work^ her true em- ployment. Mistaking her beam for a spear, or war chib, they at length dressed her in a soldier's habit, and made her to preside over miliiary ex- peditions, or, at least, made her a symbol, or pub- lic sign of the time when they were to be under- taken. We come now to the Muses, so celebrated by both ancient and modern poets, as inspring genius, &c. They were supposed to be the daughters of Jupiter and Mnemosyne, and were reckoned nine in number. They were, however, originally, nine Isises. representing the nine months of the year which were fired Jrom the water. This is the exact meaning of their common name. M /ses was so called, as being taken from the water. But the Greek poets, who were extremly fruitful in works of fancy, wholly mistaking their original meaning, gave them names respectively, whicli had no kind of reterence to their true employment. The Graces, who are well known under the names of Aglaia, Thalia, and Euphrosyne, were three idle sisters, who stocKl with their arms link- ed t'igeihcr, having no s.>rt of business to attend to. Tins was a very pleasant subject for the Greeks^ 155 who had no aversion to an easy hfe. But these symboUcai ladies were no other than three Isises, representing the three months of the year when the country lay under water, and the people were obliged to live m a state of divorcement from one another, and their works of husbandry. They were called Cherntoutch^ separation. The Greeks Softened the word a little, and called them Char- ites. And because these females had nothing to do, they were supposed to be always in a good humor; and their own term signifying good will, gratitude, fctc. they placed them at the head of these virtues The Parca^ or Destinies, were also three sis* ters, but in a much more serious character than the former. They were supposed to preside over the life of man. One held a distaff, or spindle; the other drew out the thread of man's destiny; and the other held a pair of scissars, to cut it asunder, when spun to its destined length. This was a very serious em|jloyment; but we can assign them one much more innocent. Tiiey were merely three Isises, the symbols of spinning, as their uten- sils sufficienily indicate, as well as their name. We shall close this short account with Escii' lapiiis^ a very famed divinity, the founder and god of physic. His function is, indeed, a very impor- tant one, and we ouj^ht to give him due honor for his care of the health of mankind. This honor 156 physicians have long paid him, by placing him at the head of the profession, and ascribing the science of medicine to his great talents and industry, in whatever concerned it. But, in truth, Esculapius never studied physic, nor felt a pulse, nor pre- scribed a dose of medicine, in his life. In his original character, he was simply Aishcaleph^ the man-dog, the symbol of the Dog-star, of so much couhequence to the tigyptians His figure was that of a man's body, with the head of a dog, and was the same with T/iot or A7iubis^ the Barker. In his left hand he sometimes held a pot, indi- cating the provisions which the people ought to take with them, with a feather stuck in it, to indi- cate the speed with which they ought to retreat from the approaching inundation, of which he warned them. The serpent that sometimes ac- companies him, is a symbol of the plenty occasion- ed by the ovei flowing of the Nile; but which the Greeks mistook tc;r the emblem of health, and gave occasion to the medical character assigned him. This account ind^ eci, brings him down from his rank, as a divinity, but, notwithstanding does him strict justice. On the same principles may be explained the true characters and ofliccs, of the greatest part of the other gods and goddesses, and imaginary per- sonages, that make so great a figure in the ancient 157 mythology. But this is sufficient for the design of these hints. Here we may, with great propriety, indulge a serious and instructive reflection. How great are our obhgations to revelation for the knowledge it gives us of the true God, the author of all gifts, the disposer of the seasons, and superintendant of the universe! The mistaking of, these symbolical figures became the source of idolatry, and the to- tal corruption of true religion, '* turning the glory of God into a lie," and unrighteously detaining the most imponant primitive truths, in the chains of Ignorance and superstition, to the extreme de- pravation uf the human mind, and divine worship. We see, also, the great importance of a cur- rent writing, w'iich at once conveys the most valuable knowledge to all capacities, and in a manner liable to no misapprehensions. " The gods of the heathen are idols, vain and impotent, but the Lord made the heavens." Onesimus. VOL. 2. X 258 l^int^ on €bucation— No. xii.^^ I.E WING the higher parts of the Ancient My- thology, I proceed to mention an inferior order of imaginary beings, entirely the work of the poets, and so necessary to them, that they cuuld hardly exist, in characier, without them. I mean parti- cularly tlie nymphs, which make so conspicuous a figure, bodi among the ancients and moderns. To these imaginary divinities, the ancients have assigned a certain superintendt^ice over different parts of nature; subjcrciing to them the special charge of woods, rivers, lakes, fountains; and con- ferring on them a claim to particular respect from those who enter the provinces over which they respectively presided. This fiction of the nymphs, exceptionable so far only, as it ascribed to them a degree, though indeed the lowest degree, of divinity, has some- thing in it very agreeable to the imagination; and when employed by a writer of a chastised and cor- rect taste, cannot fail of i'npressing the mind with innocent, as well as pleasing sensations. * After a long in;eiTiiption, I have resumed the hints on education, ntendinj^ 10 coniinue tht- ni occasionallv, as other eni;a:':pie, lighting on the stock, Stood rhait'ring with incessant din ; ^4nd wii'h her bt-ak (fax'e many a knocks To rouse and warn the nym/ih luithui.'* In these fictions, the poets of every age, and of all sizes and descriptions, have dealt largely enough; and the greatest part of them would be much at a loss, if they had not such a resource to supply the want of more important matter: but they only who are accurately acquainted with the Mythology, and are possessed ot a just and cor- rect taste, know how to apply it to so much ad- vantage. As allied to the fiction of Nymphs, it appears pertinent to my purpose to mention the modern one of Sylphs, Gnomes, ike. When this tribe came first into existence, 1 do not certainly know ; but the first mention that 1 find made of them, is in the beginnmgof tlie last ct ntury, about the rise of the Rosicrusian society, that admirable piece of ridi- 165 cule, on the pretensions of false and foolish philo- sopliers. But, at what time, or from what circumstances soever they arose, tiie use that has been made of them, by some poets of distinction, seems to entitle them to particular attention. Whether Ariel, and the Fairies of Shakespeare, be of the same kind, lam not certain; but, from the similarity of their employments, 1 should suppose they are. That ascribed to Ariel in the Tempest is — — — " To tread the ooze Of the salt deep ; To run upon the sharp wind of the North ; To do bvisincss in ihe veins ot the earth, When it is bak'd with frost; —To dive into the fire ; to ride On the curl'd clouds." Among the directions which the Fairy Queen gives for the entertaniment of her lover, are the following : — y^^ . "The honey bags steal from the humfl»* bees, And for night tapers crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow worm's eyes, To hdve my love to bed, and to arise, And pluck the wings from p.unted butterflies, To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes." These are exquisite images, and extremely de- Fight a vivid imagination. Pope, in his Rape of the Lock, has employed the Sylphs and Gnomes to very great advantage; 164 and the passages where they are introduced, fcrm, per: laps, the prettiest in the poem; tnough, in des- cribing their different employments, it appears to me, t:iat he has. not maintained a strict regard to the quahties and general nature of the agents. While " Some in the fields of purest xther play, Ai'd bask and bii^;luen in the fields of day ; So .le, less lefiii'd, beneaih ihe moon's pale light, Puisutr the stars that shoot across the night; Or suck he mists in grosser air below; Or dip their pinions in the painted bow — Others are employed in the minuter concerns of the fair sex — " To save the powder from too rough a gale, Nor let th' impnscn'd tssences exhale; To draw fresh colors from the vernal flowers ; To sieal from rainbows, ere they drop in showers, A brighter wash," &.c. All whicli is extremely beautiful, and suits, with great propriety, the general idea of such di- minutive beings. But, when he says — " Some guide the course of wandering orbs on high, Or roll the plantts through the boundless sky," " Or bien fierce tempests on the wintry main. Or, o'er the glebe distill the kindly rain," the powers employed are so vastly disproporiioned to tne effects they are supposed to produce, t at no effort of fancy can reconcile them together. 165 Mr. Pope must therefore, I suspect, have intro- duced these lines more for sake of their sound, than the propriety of the ideas expressed by them; which, however, is not the only instance in which that great poet has indulged himself in the same manner. But, granting that, in works of mere fancy, the Sylphs, Gnomes, &.c. may be allowed to do any thing that the poet may please to put them to, being entirely his own creatures, I can- not see by what license they can be employed in works professedly serious and philosophical. By this remark I have particularly in my view Dr. Darwin's Botanic Garden ; an ingenious, spi- rited, and entertaining performance; but, in which the author has betrayed a good deal of a weak- ness too common even among philosophers, that of being fond of new and ingenious hypotheses, without any thing to recommend them but their novelty and ingenuity.* The Sylphs, in particular, are so often and so gravely addressed, in that work, as presiding over, and managing, the greatest and most tremendous operations of nature, tempests, pestilences, blight- ing and deadly vapours, and exhalations, &c. that one would be ready to suspect the Dr. was really in earnest, and supposed them to be the only * Of this, I propose to produce, hereafter, some examples, with remarks, thhcr in the course of these hints, or in a stparate papei' for the purpose. VOL. 2. Y 166 agents in prod'icin^ t^ese phenomena. But if, In- stead of th.s dnninutive and dis -roportiont d nia- cliinery, he had trnpl^yed, at least, celestial spi- rits, in those parts of tise poem where tlie subject would properly ha> e admitted of their imerter- er.ce, t ey wo dd c:!rtainly havr given it an air of dignity, whici; it now wants, an i lave beeii per- fectly vecoi cilable to tie principles, both of piiilo- sophy and religion. I grant that, in other works, as well as in the drama, the rule which Horace has laid down is a very just one: '' Kcc dcus infersit, nisi diginis vindice nodus inciderit^''^ he. But, I cannot well see how we can treat of the most august phenomena of nature, without some refere ice, at least, to that power which alone can produce them. Nymphs, Sylphs, Gnomes, and the whole serial tribe, from Shalscspeare's Ariel to Homer's Jupiter, are alike the offspring of poetic fancy; and in tJie W(jrks of fancy only are jusdy entitled to admittance. But, the One pr..ductue Cause of the Universe is the same which presides over, and regulates all the operations ot the ele- ments, frt^m the eccentric revolutions ot a comet, down to the latent vegetation of a plaiu. * A God is not to be introduced, unless the occasion be worthy of his interference. 167 The particular sr.bj xts and remarks of this paper mav, probably, be thought of iitile i i;por- tance to the g&iiera! subject I am writing on, and I will not contend that they are of muc i. T ^ey are intended only to point out the n< cessity of pre- senting to youth, at tiiat time of e Inca.ion wt>enit is proper to begin to form the tasie, such exam- ples, whether of the ancieiits or the moderns, as may appear best to ansvvcr the pnrpose ; that no namt-s, liow great soever, are to be i)rop()se>l as the standards of a good taste, bat so far as tliey arefoimd totoUo^v nature and reason, or maintain a consistency, whether in works of ficuon or re- ality, with the plan and principles of the work ihey areemploved in; and that a well r'^gulaied fancy, and a correct taste, m discerning the beauties and imp:o^)rieties of co.np isition, not only contribute to tne rati )nal pleasures and enjoyments of life; but may serve, in some measure, to regulate our manners and aid our virtue. The operations of the fancy, when properly managed, not only create scenes of pleasure nnper- ceivable by the senses, and unattainable by any exertions of the reasoning faculty; bat often form the speediest reliel' to the mind, when wearied by investigations of science, or other serious engao-e- ments; and, possibly, give it a vigor and activity in its general pursuits, not derivable from any other source. At tiie same time, it requires great 168 attention and resolution to keep this light and spor- tive faculty under due restraints; the want of which often becomes the occasion of very serious irregularities, not only in the mind itself, but in society. It is, therefore, an important part in the business of education, early to apply such disci- pline as will be most likely to prevent an excessive fondness for the works of mere imagination; and it will generally be found much easier to effect this, tiian to remedy the evil after it has taken place. Onesimus. P. S. As what I have said of the Boianic Gar- den is from memory, after rather an hasty read- ing, if any thing has been mistated, I shall gladly acknowledge the mistake. I w^ish also to mention, that nothing whatever is insinuated against the or- thodoxy of that excellent author. O. J;)int;^ on f an instructor: and the due management of it will save a vast deal of trouble and vexation, both on the one side and the other. Besides, when the mind is allowed to f Jlow its predomi- nant bent and taste, when that is of an innocent and useful kind, it most effectually prevents any vacancy that may require to be supplied by son:e- thing either useless or pernicious. The studies ought also to be varied as much as may be, that the mind may not be fatigued and disgusted by too long application at once, even to the most ne- cessary and important branches of knowledge. It will also be very useful to the purpose be- fore us, to permit youth, in a course of education, to employ as much time as consistently may be done in innocent amusements; particularly those which require bodily exercise, which are the most proper and necessar\ for those who are obliged to spend much time in retirement and inaction. This, besides its conduciveness to health, an article of great moment, to young people especiaih , serves to keep the temper in a cheertui and pleasant hab- it, and prevents the necessiiy of application to such remedies against heaviness and languor, as may prove more dangerous to the mind than the oihers are disagreeable to the body. Some amusements are indispensably necessary; and in the early part of life, they are every^ way tne most proper and 172 useful that employ the body in action, while they enienain and enliven the mind. I mention in the last place, that, as soon as the course of education be completed, whether that be at an earlier or laier year of life, it is of great importance to put youth immediately, either to the studies proper to the profession they are destined to pursue, or to some active employment, such as merchandize, or mechanics, or whatever may suit their talents and circumstances. Besidt:-s, the favorable prospects for future life, that an early application to business usually pro- mises, it is attended with the particular advantage of being the best security that can be had fiom merely physical causes, against dissipation of thought, irregularity of passion, and the necessity of look- ing out for the entertainments to be found in such loose and dangerous writings as are addressed onl) , or chiefly to fancy and passion. Nothing can be more dangerous, especially to those who have contracted some taste for books, than to have much leisure time on their hands, and to be left to fill up that leisure at their own discretion. The result v/ill certainly be, that if they are not attached to some useful study, tl ey will adopt, for their amusement, either light and vicious society, or the reading of such writings as at least require little or no exertion of thought, if i7S tliey are not adapted to rouse and inflame the passions. It is therefore an urgent duty of teachers, par- ents, and all who have the care of forming the youthful mind, to use every practicable expedient to guard against every tiling that tends to induce those habits of idleness and dissipation that afford temptations to dangerous and unlawful entertain- ments. By this neglect, the most promising ge- niuses are often perverted, at a very early period, and the foundation laid for an useless, or dishon- orable, or pernicious course of life, as well as a forlorn and miserable end And it is of importance to remark, that, usual- ly, they who are possessed of a lively imagination are proportionably of warm and impressible pas- sions; which, considering the great influence that the former has upon the latter, makes it peculiar- ly necessary to mark the first indications of such a state of the mind, and endeavor to apply a dis- cipline proper to prevent those irregularities and excesses to which it is most liable. This being most commonly the constitution of the fair sex, and their first amusements and hab- its of life peculiarly suited to cherish it, nothing can be more ill-judged and imprudent, than to put into their hands, almost as soon as they are capa- ble of reading, those light and romantic writings which can have no other effect than to promote an VOL. 2. z 174 extravagance of sentiment, and sensibility of pas- sion, which require much more to be restramed, than encouraged, and which, after every method of restraint, will, probably, be greater than is con- sistent with the duties and tranquil enjoyment of that department in life which they are destined to fill. It has often been observed, that by fiu* the greatest part of female compositions, in our own language, consists of no\els, romances, comedies, histories of love-advtntures, and light and amor- ous poetry; occasioned, no doubt, in part, by the kind of reading they were accustomed to, in the earlier parts of life, as well as the particular state ol constitution just mentioned. And it is still more remarkable, that some of the most loose and se- ductive writings in the language, are the works of female pens: so much the more dangerous and seductive, as they are recommended by a vivacity and sensibihty scarcely attainable by the other sex. I will add, that, pnjbably, some of the greatest disorders, and most tragical disasters, that have happened in society, may, in part, at least, be as- cribed to a iieglect of an early and resolute dis- ci[)line of the female imagination. But, as I have reserved, for the latter part of these hints, remarks on female education, 1 omit saying any thing more on it at present. Onesimus. 175 ^int§ on . 330. 11th. From Constantine the Great to the He- gira,* 292. a. m. 4626. a. d. 622. 12th. From the Hegira to the investiture of the Pope vath the dignity of a temporal prince, 178. A. M. 4804. This coincides with the year 800, or the 1st year of the English king Egbert. Anno Dom. 800. • The g;reat Era of the Arabians, bring the tinrtc of Mahomet's flight from Mecca to Medijia» July 1 6, t;'22. 177 13th. From the 1st year of Egbert to the Nor- man Conquest, 266. a. m. 5070. a. d. 1066. 14th From the Norman Conquest to the grant of the great charter under king John, 150. a. m. 5220. A. D. 1216. 15th. From the grant of the great charter to the Reformation under Henry 8th. of England, 318. A. M. 5538. A. D. 1534. 16th. From the Reformation to the revolution in England, 150. a. m. 5688. a. d. 1684. On the vulgar computation the revohition is dated 1688, that is, 4 years later than the true. 17th From the revohition to the accession of the house of Hanover to the throne of Britain, 26. A. M. 5714. A. D. 1710. 18th. From the accession of George 1st, to the American Revolution, 66. a. m. 5780. a. d. 1776. 19th. From the American Revolution to the Era of the French Republic. From the Creation to the Birth of Christ, is called the Ancient Chronology; from that to tne year 800, the Middle ; and from that downwards, the Tvlodern. These Periods may be committed to memory as early as the teacher pleases; and being repeated from time to time, will be very easily retained for application in reading. IF a few of the more re- markable events which have happened within them, respectively, were also set down, and com^ 178 niitted to memory, they would both furnish a small epitome of history, and very much facilitate a re- gvdar course of reading, when the learner is pre- pared to enter upon it. For example, in the 1st Period, Adam and Eve were turned out of Eden, to cuhivate the earth, as a punishment of their transgression. Cain, for the murder of his brother Abel, was driven from his farther's family, and settled to the east of Eden, where he built the first city. In process of time, the descendants of Seth, mingling with those of Cain, occasioned idolatry, and a general corruption of manners. God having determined to destroy mankind by a general flood, directed Noaii to build a vessel, to preserve his own family, and a pair of every kind of living creatures. 2d Period. After the waters were dried up, Noah and liis family returned to the land, and set- tled in the plain of Shinar. Here they set about building a very high tower, that might be seen at a distance, to prevent their dividing, and dispers- ing into distant parts*: but God, by breaking their common language into several, obliged them to give over their work, and form diifereni settlements and communities. * The common idra, that llieir debign was to prevent their being dfslroycd by another deluge, is neither founded on the text, nor at all probal)le; they could not so soon have forgoUen God's promiiie, and the token ot the rauibow. 179 In this period, the kingdoms of Babylon, Nini- veh, and Egypt, were founded, by the posterity of Noah. In the 3d period, the kingdora of Argos was founded by Inachus. The Egyptians sent colo- nies into Greece. Twelve cities were founded by Cecrops, in Attica, constituting the kingdom of Athens, &c. In this manner, by a judicious selection of facts, the natural fondness of the mind for narra- tion may be very easily arrested, and a good foun- dation laid for any degree of improvement in this branch of knowledge that may afterwards be re- quisite. Every family v/here there are children engag- ed in this study, ought to be furnished with gen- eral tables, for their occasional use; and, if to these were added Dr. Priestley's biographical chart, it would much aid their improvement, and be, at the same time, a genteel piece of furniture for a room. With the principles of chronology may pro- perly be joined those of geography, as easily, ac- quired, and more entertaining, as well as useful. In learning of this, the memory is assisted by the eye, an advantage not to be had in chronology. It is called, indeed, one of the eyes of history, look- ing to place, as the other looks to time. Its utility is not confined to men of letters, or those who oc- casionally read for their entertainment, or instruc- 180 tion; but extends to all who would wish to know something of the world beyond their own country and residence. Even a common newspaper can- not be read to advantage, nor conversation carried on to any extent, without it. But, it is particular- ly use ful to historians, merchants, and to states- men of commercial countries. Indeed, there are few branches more liberal, more entertaining, or more useful ; and few that render a person more acceptable in well-bred and intelligent company. On the same principle it is that traveles, are so universally agreeable. It is not, however, to be acquired in a short and hasty reading at school. All that is neces- sary, or that can be done to advantage there, is to initiate the pitpil into the elements of it, and put him into a proper train for advancing in his hours of leisure from other studies in which a teacher may be more immediately necessary. But, to pre- vent negligence, it would be very useful to ex- amine him frequently; not at stated times, but oc- casionally; which would stimulate him to be al- ways in readiness to give a good account of his reading. In learning this science, the following method, it is presumed, will be found as easy and success- ful as any other — First, the natural divisions of the earth into land and water; then their sub-divisions, as the first 181 into hills, mountains, &c. the latter into seas, riv° ers, oceans; and then the continents, and their po- liucal divisions, into kingdoms, republics, ^c. Then their capital cities, principal towns, rivers, Sec. Then, their natural curiosities, as grottoes, caves, &,c. Then their persons, habits, customs, manners, &c. Then, their divisions into provin- ces, with their principal towns, &c. Then their religions, laws and government, trade and com- merce, revenues, forces, &:c. which are to be the finishing parts of the study. In teaching these it will be useful to instruct the learner in the method of finding the situation of places from his own residence, which will much rouse the attention, and is a very easy matter on the map. As to the lines and problems of the ar- tificial globe, they are properly referred to astro- nomy, where we shall introduce them One general remark it is thought proper to make here, on a presumption that it is of real im- portance to society, and that is, that the laws and government, and other political subjects which oc- cur inlearningthis science, may verywellbeomitted by young ladies. Their particular province in society by no means requiring a knowledge of these matters, and their native dignity and impor- tance rather lessened than increased by them, they ought to be omitted, at any rate, till maturity of judgment and experience shall qualify them to ap- VOL. 2. A a ' 182 ply such knowledge to augment their respectabili- ty and usefulness. This, however, can very sel- dom be the case. 1 have only to mention, in this place, that they whoarelearning the dead languages, ought to begin this study as soon as they enter upon the classics; say, Eutropius, Nepos, he. and ought to be pro- vided with a good set of maps for the purpose ; the best that I have seen are Moll's Geogra- phia Antiqua. Holmes, of Holt, in Norfolk, in England, has published a good work of the like nature. Onesimus. [The Editor, with regret, finds that the author has left these Hints on Eduction xinfiiiished] 183 THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE^ JVUMBER I. Democracv is the only constitution of government that God ever sanctioned. " of all the controversies of >he pen, next those of religion, those " of government arc the most honorable ard the most useful j " the true end of each, thoui^h in a different way, being, that tlic <' will of God may b;i done on Earth, as it is done in Heaven. " Of ail controversies of government, those in vindication of " papular governm-^nts, are the most noble, as being that con« *' siitution alone, from whence all we have that is good, is des- *' cended to us; and which if it had not existed, minkiud had, "at this day, b;en but a herd of beasts " — Hakrington, " The asseriors of liberty want no other patron than God " himself." — Sydney. After the fair experiment which has been made of the wisdom, integrity and patriotism of the present administration, one might justly be as- tonished that there should be a single man in the unioncapableof finding fault ; but the scandalous aiid outrageous clamour wiiich was raised against Mrj Jeiferson previous to his election, from the plough, the counter, the bar, the bench and even from prostituted pulpits, prepared us to expect that no measures he might al'tcrvvards adopt, how 184 favorable soever to the common prosperity, woul(i escape the censure of a certain class of men. Events have fully justified our apprehensions. A broken and desperate party, whose ambition and avarice, raised to the highest pitch by the pro- fusion and profligateness of the last administra- tion, have been disappointed by the integrity and economy of the present, continue an hopeless op- position, merely to gratify their own spleen and resentment ; for, no other cause can be assigned for their conduct — most unreasonable conduct. Destitute themselves of liberal and patriotic principles, they are tortured with vexation to see those principles rapidly gaining the approbation of the nation, and defeating every effort to over- throw our republican constitution, and degrade the nation under a royal aristocratic despotism. Two circumstances are clearly the main grounds of all the affliction which the leaders of this faction* endure, and all the opposition they make to M^, Jefferson's administration, its grow- ing popularity, which proportionably reflects dis- honor on the preceding; and the tendency of the present order of tilings to promote the comfort and prosperity of xhe people at large, and to raise them to that consequence in society to which, as citizens, they are most justly entitled. * The Federalists are now really a faction, and nothing more. 185 It has ever been the cruel and abominable po- licy of government, except in the republics which have existed, to break down the spirit of the peo- ple, by keephig them through perpetual exactions, as poor and wretched as possible, that their rulers might manage every thing their own way, and multiply to the utmost, the means of pampering their pride and luxury, and all the worst passions of the human heart. Accordingly, while kings, princes, nobles and the leading officers of gov^ern- ment have rioted in sensuality to satiety or disgust, the body of the people have been naked, famished, and almost houseless; not only denied the conso- lation of pity, but vexed with the scorns of lui- feeling insolence. The history of all ages bears testimony to the truth of this assertion. The humane and feeling o who participate in the sufferings of their fellow creatures, in reviewing the history of the world, find perpetual and direful recitals of misery, in- flicted by the oppressive and tyrannical govern- ments which have usurped, from the great body of men, those rights which they ought to have possessed by the just and equal consihution of nature.* * The abominable doctrine of Judge Chase, that all men are not equal by nature, is not only contrary to the first principle of our Constitution, but to the sentiments of the best civiliauB and soundest philosophers, frooi Aristolls down to the present day. There is no doubt wiih me, that Jud^^e Chase has never troubled himself wiih the opinions of great civilians and philosophers. 186 The same detestable maxims which have ruined the happiness and order of the world, in almost all other nations, have been violently at- tempted to be brought into credit, and full opera- tion in this. Under the former wicked and unprincipled administration, the leading federalists, as they have very falsely c died themseh es, did not hesitate to ri- dicule the sovereignty of the people^ and treat them as mere blanks in the nation — Nay, they went so far, as to make them out to be little superior to the beasts of the field, without thought, without any sense of their dignity as men, and as was truly the case then, without spirit to resent the insults which put them without the protection of society. They were in fact, put without that protection, by the memorable and most infamous sedition bilL The proceedings on that detestable act, I hope fu- ture historians will, in just resentment to the au- thors and abettors of an instrument worthy of Lord Chief Justice Jeffrey's, the reproach and scourge of humanity, depict in all its base and ter- rific lineaments, that posterity may know the de- pravity to which men in power can proceed, when ihey thiiik themselves safe fiom responsibility. I never can reflect on that business without the highest indignation, but with regret that every man who was concerned in it, has escaped the punishaieat dtic lo criminality, as great as witliin 187 the power of man, except against the authority of heaven. The people indeed, to one's utter as- tonishment, not only bore with patience all the in- sults that were offered them, by men who esti- mated them no higher than mere animals ; but even supported and caressed them. This, I must confess, might almost tempt one to think, that they deserved all the contempt which the insolent ru- lers of that day cast upon them. But they were deceived by as base intrigues as ever were prac- tised on unsuspecting minds, and were very near losing their liberty, forever. We must pardon them for their credulity, and give them a serious warning against falling into the like mistake here- after. If they once give up the sole management of their political interests, to those who clioose to take upon themselves the business of government, they will merit all the indignities, deprivations and miseries, which such stupidity will infallibly pro- duce. But, I entertain the animating persuasion, that heaven will never abandon the people of the American states to such stupendous infatuation. Let the federalists say what they please against democracy^ as tumultuous, liable to discord, to change, and unstable in its very foundations — I shall endeavor to maintain the truth of the propo- sition at the head of this paper; which I hope to make clear to every enlightened and impartial per- 188 son who will take the trouble to follow me in what 1 shall offer on the subject. My design is to give my countrymen a view of the dignity of the constitution under which they live, in comparison of which no other government that I have heard of, will bear to be named — that the adorable king of the universe, by his own ex- ample, has ratified their rights, and that if they do not procure them, having the power to do it, they will as much put themselves from under the pro- tection of divine providence, as the Israelites did, when they rejected God, as their special sovereign, and chose in his place sinful and corrupt men, to rule and govern them. I shall first make a few re- marks on the origin and power of kings, in the earliest ages that are mentioned by authentic his- tories — I have obvious reasons for this, though kings are of no estimation with me, and 1 hope never will be with the people of America. My argument will be an explanation of the constitution and government appointed by God himself as for the Israelites^ and on this, though many things in it must be passed over, I rest the truth of my doc- trine. " While I have liberty to write, I will write for liberty." Demophilus. November, 1803. 189 Cjje .^obetreigntp of t&e Hpcoplc— No. ii. Democracy is the only constitution of government that God ever sanctioned. The senseless and impious homage which has been paid to kings, by civihzed and even christian nations, is an affecting proof of the ex- treme degradation to which the human mind is ca- pable of being reduced. That millions of men should be subject to the absolute will of one man or of a thousand, and most probably of the weakest, most corrupt and contemptible of the whole nation they govern, and perhaps, in all these respects, on a level with the lowest of the human race, is an i^ea which almost makes one ready to renounce any alliance to the species. To surrender liberty, the common sup- ports of life, and every thing that can render life desirable, without a conflict, into the power of others, is an argument that man has lost the most genuine characteristics oj his original dignity^ as formed in the image of God. Yet, an unresisting submission to the will of kings, has been incul- cated, even by Christian Divines, as though this royal class of men, generally the greatest disgrace to humanity, and the severest scourges that God has permitted to punish man, for revolting from VOL. 2. B h 190 his original allegiance, were of divine original, and posse ssed an hereditary right oi jurisdiction over their fellow-creatures, without the least res- ponsibility for their conduct. This very doctrine (f the divine right of kings, we know, was considered, not much n^ore than a century ago, as sacrtd and obllgatury on christians, as the must essential aruclc of the christian faith — and the man who had the courage and honesty to deny it, would have been considered as an hea- then man and a publican, if lie was not adjudged to the honr>r of laying down his life in refutation of nonsense and impitny. The translators of the present English Bible, though learned^ pious and very estimable me??, were led through the force of prejidice and mistake of certain passages in the New Testament,' t(i adopt the jus diviimm of kings, the common doctrine ol the British nation, in the most corrupt periods of its government, and to press upon the people as slavish doctrines as the worst emperors of Rome could have wished to be received among their subjects, when Nero, and the otlier dsemons who were tiie faithful imitators of his detestable crimes, were in power. Their de- dication to king James is not exceeded in servility, and a base prostitution of attributes proper to Gi^d alone, by any homage e\ er paid to man, except saying — " thou art a God" — they say, " to tlie 771067 high and mighty''^ Prince James, and '•'•most 191 dread sovereign^ When I read this language, ard a thousand other siiralar examples of that time, and of times long since, I know not whether I ftcl most indignation or shame, that the Chrisdan ministry should ever have condescended to adula- tion so unworthy of men ; and of which there can be mentioned no stronger example, even in savage life. I shall have more than one occasion to re- mark the influence that tliis prejudice of these great and good men has had, in transkiting passages of the sacred tcxt^ to a sense extremely remote from the original. That the doctrine of the divine right and ori- gin of kings has no foundation either in reason, or the early practice of mankind, can be maintained by proofs of the most satisfactory kind. It is im- possible for a rational man to believe that God e er established it as a law of perpetual obligation, that men should be bound to acknt)wled^;e the autho- rity of any man who might be called a king; how- ever senseless, debauci ed and destitute of every qualification for the purpose. Such men he has permitted to rule — but he never gave them any credentials of his commission. He permits Satan. '• the prince of the power of the air," to oppose his authority, by enticing mankind to sin against him — but he never authorised his wickedness. That kings, and all other civil rulers Vvxre origi- nally elected by the free suffrages of the people, 192 there can be no doubt. In support of this, I shall addu':e an example or two, not thinking this part of my subject of importance enough to go into any minuteness of discussion. The first example of any thing like the kingly power, is that of Nimrod, who rose to power and reputation 150 years after the flood. This Nimrod has, indeed, been considered as a violent usurper of power, and a cruel and wicked tyrant over the people of his time. But, the sa- cred history gives no such idea of him. Indeed, in point of reason, such usurpation would have been impossible in itself, whatever taste he might have had to be atyrant and oppressor. The fact, I believe, with regard to him, to have been simply this — he had acquired much reputation among the people, for his courage and expermess in des- troying the wild beasts which infested the coun- try; and this induced them to choose him as a leader in their various enterprizes, whether of making settlements or conducting war, and per- haps, of deciding controversies, most probably by appellate jurisdiction. These two last offices were the particular objects which the people had in view, in electing kings, in the ages I am speaking of, and in those of a much later date. There was then no other power annexed to the kingly office, and the term itself, in its first usage, implied 193 nothing more than leader or director, taken from the employment of a shepherd. After mentionmg that the beginning of Nim- rod's kingdom was " Babel, and Ezech, and Ac- cad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar," our trans- lation adds, " out of that land went forth Ashm\ and built Nitievah,'' he. But, I prefer the read- ing of those critics who take Ashur in the objec- tive (iase, as the name of the country afterwards called Assyria. The reading then, will be, '• Ajid he^ (Nimrod) went cut into Assyria,'^ &c. Find- ing the plain of Shinar too contracted for the num- ber of the people, he led a colony, and settled it in cities, on the banks of the Tygris. As the begin- ning of his kingdom or government v/as Babel, &cc. it implies, clearly, that he afterwards extended it. However, independent of the grammatical con- struction of the passage, I cannot think that so careful, and indeed, accurate an historian as Moses, would, in reciting the genealogy of Ham, so abruptly introduce the second son of Shem. who is not mentioned till the eleventh verse after- wards. In all this there appears nothing at all to favor the idea of Nimrod's having usurped the power he enjoyed. I have no doubt that he was a benefactor of the people, rather than an op- pressor ; and, limited in the exercise of his power. by rules prescribed by themselves. 194 t I will mention another example, and no more, to show the mani;er in which kings were intro- duced, in event, only to be the plagues of society. Nimrod, I truly believe, was as good in the exercibc ot his trust, as any one that has succeeded him in the kingly office. After the Medes had rescued themselves from their subjection to the Assyrians, they fell into great disorder, as ever happens after great revolutions. In this state of affairs, they frequently apphed to a private man, of the name of Dejoces, of great reputation for pru- dence and integrity, to decide their controversies., Finally, in a general assembly of the people, they chose him to be their king. He accepted the trust; and afterwards perverted his power by sub- tlety and intrigue, into an absolute tyranny, and that hereditary. From this example we may easily see the manner in which hereditary power took its first rise. It w^as not by the consent of the people, who had the sole right of determining the farm of government under which they chose to live ; but, through the deccptinn of those whose ambition prompted tlicm 10 assume the reins of governmeiit, by artificial and delusive methods. 1 might here rest the substance of my argu- ment ; but, the practice of almost every nation of Furope, in different periods, is dirtctly to my pur- pose if it were needful to produce it. Everyone acquainted with history, knows that the people of 195 ^ Attica, in the time of their kings; the Romans, during the times of their first six kings ; the anci- ent Germans, the Goths, Vandals, Franks, Suxons, Swedes, Poles, Bohemians, Hungarians, chose their kings in assembhes of the people or by their nobles, when such existed. They all acted on the manly sentiments of the Arragonese — " We, who are as good as you, make you our king, provided you maintain our rights and liberties ; but, if not, not." This was done at first in the assemblies of the whole citizens ; then, in their gimotes, diets, parliaments, cortez, states-general, 8cc. by their re- presentatives. Demophilus. €&e ^obcteigntp of tjc people— No. iir. Democracy is the only constitution of gtveniment that God ever sanctioned. " Men," says Aristotle, " ever made kings from first having been benefactors ." And Cicero, one of the best and most enlightened of the ancient heathens, remarks — " that they ever used to be chosen to govern, of whose justice the people at large had a good opinion." It was, therefore, long in use for even tyrants to call themselves benefactors. So Christ says to his disciples. — '• the kings of the Gentiles exercise 196 lordship over them; and they that exercise domi- nion upon them, are called benefactors." If cruel and sanguinary tyrants, who had no otlier object in their government than to gratify the meanest and most pernicious passions, may be called benefactors; then, no class of them upon earth better deserve the appellation than those who have been called kings. They have been much better entitled to the execrations, than the grati- tude and affection of their subjects; or, as 1 might more properly call them, their slaves. '' The king my master," savs a royal ambassador, " has ordered me so and so." And yet this ambassador calls himself a freeman while he acknowledges himself a slave. Julius Cassar and Alexander might call themselves benefactors; but they were execrable villains^ and justly merited the fates they suffered.* When they who are entrusted with the offices of government, violated their trust and acquired despotic power, it was by imposing on the credu- lity of the people by fair promises and gaining them over to too much confidence by the rentals * Q linlus Curtius, the historian of Alexander, says, he died by poison; and Cxsar was dispatched by twenty three wouhds given him bv excellent patriots. Cicero, in allusion to the latter puts the ques- tion, whether a man who kills a tyrant, that it an intimate, is guilty of a crime? He replies, the Roman people do not think so but consi- der it as the most illustrious and commendable of all actions." 197 of their former services. The native good sense of mankind never could think that usurpation was right, and that tyranny was justice. Successful tyrants would say so—" Csesar," says Cicero, "had always in his mouth, " sic violandum est jus ^ gratia regtiandi, "ciolaiidum esV — " If the rights of men are to be violated, it must be done for the sake of the sovereign authority." " The author of this sentiment." adds Cicero, " deserved death, as ex- cepting that alone which is the most villainous of all actions;" and this opinion is agreeable to the universal sense of mankind, when the genuine light of reason, as to its most important exertions, has not been extinguished, or greatly obscured by luxury and indolence, or the prejudices of su- perstition, or the habits of subjugation. We may, therefore, consider elective government, so far as sanctioned by the earliest ages, as the institution of God. How or when, the offices of government became hereditary, is a subject in which we are not in the least interested. It is sufficient to our purpose to know, that whatever names the people gave to their rulers, whether of kings, judges, con- suls, emperors, &c. they were the creatures of the citizens at large; and the powers en- trusted to them, as well as the rules of their office, were determined and settled by the same. We sliall now make a few remarks on the powers of kings in the earliest timxcs. We arc accustomed, VOL. 2. c c 198 in speaking of this sort of people, taking our ideas of them from the ages of hereditary succession and arbitary power, to consider them as ^ privi- leged order of men, who had a divuie right to do what they pleased; to raise up, and pull down, to murder and destroy, at their own option. But men had not such absurd and unreasonable ideas of them, when they first came into use. Tlieir powers were exceedingly limited, their territories or kingdoms very small, and in mostof the examples which history presents to us, v hether in Asia or Greece, they were no more than primi inter pares, the first among their equals. Then- dominion, in a thousand instances, was confined to a single city or town, perhaps of no more than a few hundred inhabitants. They were subject to the people at large; and, except in lime of war, when they possessed dictatorial power, they had little more to do than to act as judges in controversies, or re- port to the people, for their consideratiop. ; such things as had been deliberated on in a select coun- cil appointed by the people. — Without going to any other history, we may see a just and true pic- ture of the state of kings and kingdoms, in the earliest times, in the nations wlio inhabited the small territory of Canaan, when the Israelites took possession of it by a divine right. By that hi^story we see that Joshua, as the gene- ralissimo of the Israelities, subdued thirty three 199 kings, and extirpated the whole of their subjects or citizens. From which circumstance, it is a very- probable conclusion, that they were no more, at least the greatest part of them, than duces iniper- atores, or leaders of the people in their military ex- peditions. Had they been possessed of powers like our modern kings, they would have cut off one another, and the chief victor have remained mas- ter of the sod and the people; but, I have no doubt, that in their executive capacity, they had much less power than the president of the United States. When Samuel, therefore, tells the IsraeliteSj the manner of the king that would govern them, he refers either to the kings of Egypt, or, which is most probable, to the kings of Babylon, Assyria, &c. Tnere is one example strongly to my pur- pose, which, indeed, took place some considerable time before Moses; but which, I think, may justly be mentioned in the present case. — When the sons of Jacob applied to Hamor, king of Shechem, by a most subtle and criminal artifice, for a free in- tercourse of marringe between the two people, the king went with his son Shechem to the g tes of the city, where all matters of general importance to the nation were deliberated on, and made the business known to the people, not having any pow- er in himself to determine upon it. I need not mention the case of Abraham, respecting the con- federated kings of the East, nor that of Isaac in 200 the affair of Abimelech; these are well known un- to all who read the Scriptures. More directly to may purpose is the affair of the Gibeonites, who were evidently republicans; from which there is ground to believe, that this was the case with many others of the people of that country. Because, republics and despotic kingdoms can hardly main- tain good neighborhood for any length of time, un- less, as was the case with the people of Gibeon, they are too strong for their neighbors. The deputies from Gibeon, say to Joshua and all the men of Israel, "our elders and all the inhabitants of our country, spake to us, saying," &c. Jethro, the father-in-law of Moses, was no more than presi- dent of Median — with which office, it was custom- ary at that time, to join the priesthood. Demophilus. €Se J>obcreigntp of tje people—No. iv. Democracy is tJie only constitution of government that God ever sanctioned. I now proceed to the consideration of the Israelitisli polity — a system which, whether we consider its divine institution, the humanity and comprehensiveness of its precepts, the perfect equity of its principles, and the provisions it con- tains to guard against the least encroachment of 201 tyranny, and serve, as far as possible, the happi- ness of the people, without respect to birth, weahh, talents, or any other consideration inimical to the liberty and equality which the true ends of the social compact will admit of, is perfectly unequal- led and indicative of consummate wisdom, good- ness and justice. A remark or two on the government of this people, daring their continuance in Egypt, will be necessary for the clearer understanding of some parts in the constitution they afterwards adopted, and so solemnly ratified. It seems to have been an early custom, parti- cularly in the family of Abraham, to bestow on the oldest son, the portion of two children, with the privilege or right of chaplaincy in the family; as also, some kind of authority over his brethren during their minority. This authority, by some writers, has been extended even to the power of life and death. But I can find no evidence of this, nor is it in the least probable. It is clear, however, that the right of primo- geniture wfi^5 7iot of divine institution^ nor deemed by those who followed the custom, of invariable obligation. Jacob took it from Reuben,* and be- stowed it on Joseph : and of Joseph's two sons, he gave the preference of benediction to Ephraim the • On account of having violated his father's bed. 202 younger. Moses and Aaron were of the tribe of Levi: and Moses was preferred in office to Aaron ; though the priesthood was afterwards settled in the family of the latter. Saul also was of the tribe of Benjamin, and David the eighth son of an obscure family, in that of Judah. It is therefore clear, that it was 720 rank of nobility ; for it was attended with no jurisdiction over those who were of mature age, nor could de- mand any respect but that which was voluntary, and is universally paid to age; the attributes of wisdom, prudence and justice, being generally as- cribed to it. This gave rise to the Elders of Israel, so often mentioned in the history of this people. How long it was, after the death of Joseph, before they became subjected to the tyranny of the Egyp- tians, we have no account — Previous to that, there is no doubt that they enjoyed an Ivautarchy^ or had the liberty of governing themselves. And even after their subjugation, it is most likely that they still, in some manner, enjoyed it ; though, undoubtedly, under such restrictions as the kings of Egypt thought proper to make. Most pro- bably, then, the nature of their government was something like this — The oldest in each tribe was called the elder, or head of the tribe; and so it was with the different families belonging to that tribe, the oldest was called the head of the family. 203 One example of their manner of reckoning by families, will be sufficient. Reuben, for instance, had four sons, Hannoch, Pallu, Hezraro and Carmi, and their respective families were called Hannochites, Palluites, 6cc. When the first died, the next in seniority succeeded to the name of elder. — Throughout their history, they are called heads of the tribes, prijices^^ heads of families^ chiefs, &c.t If they had any authority over the people, it must therefore have been allowed them, merely through courtesy^ and could extend no far- ther than to the right of advising; like the old men among our northern Indians. That they had no set judges in office, will here- after appear. Probably then, the head of each tribe was referred to, in the higher controversies which concerned a whole tribe; the heads of fami- lies, in those which concerned only heads of fami- lies ; and the elders of all the tribes deliberated on those subjects which interested the whole: and this is all we can say with respect to their govern- ment in Egypt. It was then neither an aristo- cracy nor a kingly government, as to their admi- nistration among themselves. It is therefore, most reasonable to conclude, that it was demo- * Our translation often renders nobles, but the word means only selectos— select men. t Antecessores. 204 cratic or popular ; that is, such a form as the peo- ple at large determined. When Moses was deputed by God himself, to deliver them a message, announcing to them the divine purpose to deliver them from their bondage to the Egyptians, he was directed to express him- self in these terms: " Go, and gather the ciders of Israel, and say unto them, I will bring you up out of the affliction of Egypt, and they will believe thee." Moses, as might justly be expected, the thing being, in itself, utterly improbable, on human prin- ciples, expressed much reluctance to undertake the mission and his diffidence, in the success of it. But, God assures him, that he would enable him to work miracles, to convince the people of the di- vine authenticity of his commission. On his working three miracles, the people believed. Af- terwards, however, when they found their burdens increased, they upbraided him and Aaron for the increased hardship of their tasks, without any pros- pect of their deliverance. They at last complied, and iheir elders accom- panied Moses and Aaron in their address to Pha- raoh, as their representatives. — Here, we are led to remark, that though the mission of Moses was to fulfil a promise of God, made to their fathers some hundred years before, yet it was optional with the people whether they would accept of the 205 promised deliverance, or remain in the country * where they were in bondage, but in the enjoyment of the necessaries of hfe in plenty. This prefer- ence of present ease to the hazards of a revolu- tion, uncertain as to its success and utterly des- perate, had it not been assured by the divine fidelity, hak kept many a nation in bondage, when the means of deliverance were practicable, with a spirit worthy of an object desirable at any ex- pence. We may farther remark, that whatever benefit God offers to mankind, he expects their voluntary concurrence with his proposals; treating them, in all such cases, as endowed with reason and a freedom of acting as their judgment or in- clination may determine. The deliverance was effected, and the people at length in a wilderness, where they were secure from their former masters, but laboring under ex- treme hardships, which nothing could relieve but the Srime power which had conducted them so far. During this time, it appears, they were a mere multitude^ v/ithout any regular organization, civil or military ; having, probably, during their time in Egypt, been governed by custom, only, without a iy written laws ; as Vv^as the case with many other nations — This circumstance, when their fears of the Egyptians had subsided, and they be- gan to ieel the necessity of some regular tribunal to direct their controversies, occasioned Moses VOL. 2. D d 206 insupportable care and fatigue. Sometime within the second month from tJie departure^ Jethro, his father-in-law, paid him a visit; and observing him busied with the people, from mornhig to evening, he said to him — "What is this thing that thou dost to the people? Why sittest thou thyself alone, and all the people stand by thee, from morning unto even?" "And Moses said to his father-in- law, beciuse the people come to me to enquire of God. When they have a matter, they come to me, and I judge between one and another, and do make them know the statutes of God, and his laws." Exod. xviii. Here we may remark, once for ah, the true character in which Moses acted, during the whole of his public ministry; he was thereby the mouth piece of the people, to present their enquiries to God; or the mouth of God, to return his responses to the people. He had no authority to make or alter a law, to decide a con- troversy, or do any thing whatever, of public con- cern, on his own judgment. It is, therefore, with obvious impropriety, that he is called a legislator; unless we use the word in its primitive sense, as Icgumlator^ the person in the ancient republics, who carried the laws which had been framed in council, to the people, for their approbation; with- out which no law could be enacted. We shall soon see Moses acting [precisely in this office. Af- ter this reply of Moses lo his father-in-law, Jethro 207 told him he was doing very wrong; and that if he would take his advice, and Gud should approve of it, he would put him in a way easier both for him- self and the people. "Provide, (txhibeto) out of this people." that is, as Junius and Ttinellius supply, and which Moses explains, Deut. 1. cu- rato ellgi^ cause to be chosen, '' able men, such as fear God, men of truth, hating covetousness; and let them judge the people at all seasons; every great matter they shall bring to thee, (to consult God upon it) but ever}* small matter they shall judge."* Moses followed his advice, and the people approving of the measure, chose their offi- cers from among themselves, and presented them to Moses, to induct them into office. It is uncer- tain whether these officers were entirely uf a civil nature only, or of civil and military combined. It appears to me, that though their principal office was of a civd nature, they also, at least, occa- sionally combined with that, a military command, in the wilderness. — However, they were dispersed among the different tribes, and their number in each tribe was proportioned to the extent of its population. • Tacitus says of the ancient Germans — « De ininoribus consult- ant princijies ; de majoribus omnes." Matters of less injportance were decided by their chiefs, the greater by the people ai large.'* (In C«tur, Jicclcsia, a general assembly .J Be mor. Germ. 208 Here we find in the free election of the people, the platform of the Israelitish constitution, and the principles of all just governments — Exclude this principle, and we must p^'onounce that govern- ment arbitrary and despotic. It has been supposed by good critics, that this institution was the basis of the famous Sanhe- drim, which is so often mentioned in the latter times of the Israelites. "But I think it entirely improbable, that men appointed to be dispersed as judges among the tribes, should even have acted as a tribunal for the whole nation. There can be no doubt, that these judges were continued, the office of each remaining in his hands during life or good behaviour; but there is strong ground to believe, that the Sanhedrim did not exist before the time of the celebrated Hasmonca?is- -Whenever it did begin to exist, it cannot be doubted that its powers were extended far beyond those on which it was originally founded, if we suppose any thing in the original government of the Israelites to have been, in realhy, the foundation of it. When we come to the later times of this people, we shall see more clearly the nature of this Sanhedrim. That the Jethronian prefects, as they have been called, were not such, will hereafter appear. Demophilus. 209 €ge jSobcrci^ntji of t^e people-— No. V. Democracy is the only coiistitiition of government that God ever sanctioned. We have just seen that the government of the Israeutes commenced vvhh an act of the people, the free election of their iir.st regular judges. And this being the found.ition of their consthution, in- fused the democratic spirit into every form that afterwards subsisted among them. We may here mention another institution which took place som.e time afterwards, and is di- rect to our purpose. On the people's complaining for want of ilesh, God, on the expostulation of Moses, in regard to the difficulty and painfulness of his situation, tells him, '-gather unto me se- venty men of the elders of Israel, whom thou knowest to be the elders of the people, and oiti- cers over them ; and bring them to the tabernacle of the congregation, that they may stand there with thee. And 1 will come down to talk with thee there: and I will take off the spirit v^^hich is upon thee, and will put it upon them; and they shall bear the burden of the people with thee, that thou bear it not thyself alone. "--Num. vi. 1 1. This court, if it was really such, was merely in- 210 tended as assistant to Moses, and was wholly com- posed of men who had formerly been elected by the people, and were known to ]M(;ses as such. Whea they had fulfilled their service to him, be- ing appointed f >r that particular purpose, it is rea- sonable to believe that they entirely ceased: though some have supposed them also to be the foundation of the Sanhedrim. But, as they are never afterwards mentioned, I have no doubt that their office ceased wiih the administration of Moses. We now come to the period, a most solemn and impressive occasion, when their constitution was framed and adopted as their code of laws, to be observed by them through all their generations ; and v/e shall see it to be as formal a compact as ever was made. The contracting parties, indeed, were, in essential respects, extremely unequal, even to infinitude; but, there was so far an equal- ity betvveen them, that each was free to act on the occasion or not. God, though possessed of abso- lute dominion, would not undertake to govern, as his particular subjects, any but such as volunta- rily and of preference, subjected themselves to his particular rule. By an almost continual display of miracles in their favor from their first mission of Moses to them, the Israelites had been prepared to accept of the offer of God to become their leader and po- 211 ' litical head, in a sense essentially difterent from the principles on which the other nations of the world were governed.* The relation proposed to sub- sist between them, was that of a careful shepherd to his flock, and a tender father to his children. In both these respects they had often experienced his divine conduct ; and there remained nothing to fix the connexion, but a formai engagement, to estab- lish the one party in their duty, and secure from the other, the promised benefits. When the time arrived — " The Lord called unto Moses, out of the mountain (Sinai) before which the people were encamped," saying, " Thus shah thou say to the house of Jacob, and tell the children of Israel, ye have seen what 1 did to the Egyptians, &c. Now therefore, if ye will obey my voice, indeed, and keep my covenant, then shall ye be to me a peculiar treasure, above all people, &,c. These are the words which thou shalt speak to the children of Israel." This is the proposition on the part of God, with a most impor- tant promise annexed, to induce the compliance of the people. " And Moses came, and called for the elders t of the people, and laid before their faces, all the words which the Lord had command- ed him; and all the people answered together; all * They were under his government only as Lord of the universe, t We must all along consider thsse elders as the representatives ef the whole peoplci 212 that the Lord hath spoken we will do. And Mo" ses returned the words of the people unto he LordS- Lxod. xix. After the settlement of this fundamental arti- cle of the compact, which implied the assent of the people to the whole system of laws that should afterwards be framed for them; and Moses having recited to them a few of the most importarit, they repeat their engagement to obedience. — " All the people answered with one voice; all the words which the Lord hath said we will do. ^^ So far, I think, we sec clearly, a free popular election; and the constitution and laws, though framed by God himself, became as truly the government of the people, as though they had been formed by them- tjclves. On this Moses proceeds to ratify the compact in the most formal and solemn manner, agreeable in subtance, to a rite in early use with many na- tions, by the attestation of blood." Directly at the foot of the mount, where the law v.ms given, he erected an altar and tv/elve pillars. The altar was on the part of C^od, the pillars on that of Is- rael as their representatives. Having directed proper oifcrings and sacrifices* to be made, " he took half of tne blood and put it in basons, and half of the blood he sprinkled on the altar," as * The apost'es Paul says that t'.ie beats sacrificed on the occasion, werecuhcs and gouts- Htb. ix. 19" 213 the attestation on the part of God. And he took the book of the covenant and read in the audience of all the people, and Moses took the blood and sprinkled it on the people, that is the twelve pil- lars, and said, ''behold the book of the convenant which the Lord hath made with you, concerning all these words," Ex. xxiv. This latter transaction was the attestation of the people^ in confirmation of their own part in this compact. Notwithstanding the assurances we have seen on the part of the people, to adhere to their en- gagement in this covenant; they all soon vanished in irresolution and defection; for on the continuance of Moses in his intercourse with God in the mount, longer than they expected, they fell into despair of his return. In this state of mind, they applied to Aaron to conduct them back to Egypt, under the standard of a golden calf, as the symbol of Deify, which they probably made in imitation of the Apis of the Egyptians. While they were celebrating a festival in honor of this image, Moses returned, and finding them in a state of open revolt from God, he broke the tables of the law, in token of the dissolution of the covenant. But, agreeably to the usual procedure of the divine goodness, God soon forgave them, and wrote the same articles of the law which had been written on the first tables; and renev^^ed his VOL. 2. EC 214 proposition as at the first. To this the people again consented. Agreeably to a custom long established among other nations, and which had probably been the case among the Israelites, (making two copies of contracts) Moses deposited the one inside the ark ; and laid the other in tl^e side of the same, open for the inspection of the people, or a testimc>ny against them. On every year of release, this law was to be publicly read to men, women, children, servants, and the strangers who were among them; as the rule of duty to the whole. After this, God directs the people to erect a tabernacle, or tent, which was to serve as the royal pavilion among them ; from whence all orders were to be given, with respect tu their marches, order, war, 8vc. and might justly be c^Wtd the hracl quar- ters of the army. It was in this, that God, who had undertaken to be their guide, resided, by the visible symbol of his presence — and here all their measures were determined on. When instruc- tions were given to Moses, for the erection of this tabernacle, he was p irticularly directed, to pro- claim, that the wliole was to be dor:e, by voluntary deviation — by those who uould give, ''with a willing heart." Accordingly, the people contri- buted so largely, thai Moses was under the necessity of telling them to stop ; as more '2\S was brought in, than was sufficient for the purpose.* From this, we deduce by easy consequences, the important doctrine, very contrary indeed to that on which ecclesiastical establishments have al- ways been founded — that tne homage which God requires from men, is a voluntary homage. Com- pulsory contributions, therefore, to the support of divine worship, churcnes, &c. 1 must ever think utterly unfounded by divine example; and prac- tised merely as the most potent engines of state po- licy, on secular and interested moti.es. Superstition, the misunderstanding of the Scriptures, party zeal and worldly ambition, have only persecuted Christianity by such establish- ments; and have been the occasion, perhaps as much as any other cause of destro) ing charity, the must ornamental of the christian virtues; and de- feating in a measure, the high purposes of the gospel. May it ever be our wisdum and happi- ness, to give free sc;jpe to religious opinions; from which, however errone(>us, no danger can e\er arise to those doctrines, which we are assured by eternal verity, can never be- overdirovvn. DtMOPHILUS. * I purposely avoid muhiplvinp: quotations from the Scriptures^ ■as these facis are known to all v\ho rc;tci ihem wi.h Htieniion. 216 CSe ^otjcrcigntp of tXjt people— No. VI. Democracy i"^ the only constitution of government that God ever aaiictioned. The next thing I shall notice in this extraor- dinary polity is tJie separation of the tribe^ oj Levi to the service of the tabernacle: a department of « state immediately u ider the direction of God him- self: aid we shall fiud it to have been a very pa-- pillar transaction. God, from having spared the first born of the Israelites, on that memorable night when he cut off all those of the Egyptians, claimed all the males of the former as his peculiar property, each of whom was to pay a particular sum as the price of his redemption, or his life was to be forfeited. But having determined to appropriate the whole tribe of Levi exclusively to the use of the tabernacle, he directed Moses to take the number of all their males from a month old and upwards. On enumer- ation they amounted to twenty-two thousand. He then directed him to take the amount of all the first-born, throughout the tribes: and their amount was twenty-two thousand three hundred and se- venty-three: Each of diose two hundred and seven- ity -three was to pay, as the price of his redemp- tion, from the obligation of the first-born,^x^f 217 shekels^ in value about eleven shillings and nine- pence English money. — Numb. viii. After this, the tribe of Levi v. as to be solemn- ly consecrated to their office, and surrendered by the common consent of all the tribes^ to the service of G'jd. " And God said to Moses, take the Lcvites from among the children of Israel and cleanse them. And thoU shalt bring the Levites before the tabernacle of the congregation; and thou shalt gather the whole assembly of the children of Israel together; and thou shalt bring the Levites before the Lord; and the children of Israel shall put their hands upon the Levites; and Aaron shall offer the Levites^ before the Lord, an o^ffering of the children of Israel^ that they may ex- ecute the service of the Lord." — Numb. viii. It has been doubted what was the meaning of the imposition of the hands ot the people on this occasion? Some suppose it a form of benediction^ but, 1 rather think it to have been a sign of the transfer of the tribe from the people, who could no longer claim their military service. But it is mere conjecture, and I set no other value upon it. By this transaction we see clearly the impor- tant footmg on which the people stood: and the in- fluential part they acted, in the most interesting transactions of the nation. — This action is the more impressive, as God might have assumed to him- self the service of the Levites^ as a commutation 218 for the first born, without any interference of the tribes at larg-e. But his condescension on the oc- casion; was calculated to couvey to the ruling powers an important lessen on the respect which was due to t'le people, and the sacred reserve they were bouiid to mauitain when tlie rights of the pcn^ple were interested. Passing by several trans- actions in the wilderness which would apply to my purpose, 1 proceed to the division oj the land of Canaan^ and the other territories which the Is- raelites were appointed to possess. While they were encamped on the plains of Moab, Moses died, after having, by God's direc- tion, appointed Joshua to succeed him, to conduct the people into to the promised land. This land, though promised the Israelites, many hundred ^ years before, was to be conquered before it could be enjoyed; and the iniiabiiants, by God's particu- lar direction, were to be utterly exterminated. Two tribes a id an half, viz, the tribe of Reu- ben, Gad, and tne half tribe of Manasseh, at their particidar request, obtained a settlement on the sde of Jordan next to the wilderness, on the condition tliat they would first pass over Jordan, and assist the other tribes in conquering the coun- try. Joshua then deputed men irom each tribe, to go into Canaan, and after taking an acci;raic survey of the country, to report to him the result ©I ineir mih^ion. Josephus sayii that ilicse men 219 were accurate geometricians, and surveyed the promised land wiih great precision. On t leir re- port, the land was to be divided among the tribes by lot. Tne larger tribe was to have the larger quantity, and the lesser tribe the smaller; each ac- cordhig to its population. The whole was to be divided, according to the extent of every tnbe and family, withovit distinction. — There was no provi- sion made for favorites, dependants, sycophants, or any other such vermin, who have ever been among the greatest pests of society; but who in all kingly governments, have ever found their base services amply rewarded at the expence of the labor and sweat of the people. Neither Joshua nor Caleb, though they had served them so long and so faithfidly, had any apportionment of terri- tory in the lots. But Caleb obtained an inheri- tance by a promise from Moses; and Joshua, at his particular request, was allowed the same favor by the people^ after the division had taken place. This was a most effectual provision against aristocratic influence. Had any extraordinary por- tion been alloted to him, in recompence ot his ser- vices, his descendants would probably have thought themselves entitled to peculiar honors and authority in the state, and made the ser-.ices of their progenitor a plea for exclusive and hereditary powers. But it appears, that they mixed with the mass of the people, and their names as his sue- 220 cessors, were never afterwards mentioned. This is an example full of instruction and worthy of the most careful imitation, wherever a people have a just sense of their importance in society, and arc resolute to exclude the influence of names from abridging their rights. How much land fell to the portion of an individual, on an average, has been very differently estimated; some haye, sup- posed it not more than four acres: the Jewish wri- ters of the letters to Voltaire^ estimate twenty acres. But as the whole territory alloted to the Israelites was never taken possession of, and, as we do not know the exact limits of the grant originally made to them, it is mere waste of time and labor to at- tempt certainty on the subject. However, it was certainly tlie most perfect Agrarian law ever estab- lished by any nation. The Spartans and Romans attempted it, but never could succeed. In the gen- eral remarks 1 propose to make on their system of laws, it will appear, that the most minute attention was paid to the imerest o^ all the people, without the least respect to any priviledged body of men. This circumstance forms more than almost any other t/ie trite nature and tendency oj' this admira- ble polity, so worthy of God, and so honorable to man- kind. Whatever the portion of land was, which fell to a tribe, to a family, or to an individual, be- ing given by lot, and afterwards secured by the most precise laws, all interest of individuals on ac- 221 count of family, former services, &;c. was comple- tely excluded. Before we pass to the next period of their his- tory, that of tile judges, we cannot avoid noticing a transaction, as beautiful in its kind as any re- corded in history; and as strongly expressive of a gfiiu'me deinocracy. After the tribfs of Reuben, Gad, and the half tribe of Manasseh, who had ob- tained their portion of territory on this side Jor- dan, returned from Canaan, whither they had gone to assist the other tribes in possessing the countr}'-, they resoived on erecting an altar, to perpetuate the memory of their connexion with their brethren, on the other side of the river. On the report of this to the other tribes, they entertained a suspi- cion that the two tribes and an half designed, by this altar, to institute a different worship from that agreed on by the whole. At once they were for proclaiming war ag-iinst them, and going direct- ly to cat them all oif, to avoid a common calamity to the nation. They were, however, dissuaded from this till they should send an embassy, tc^ know the truth of the business. The whole of the tribes, in a general assembly^ agreed to send Phinehas the son of Eleazar, and with him ten representatives from all the tribes, to enquire into the reason and design of erecting this alt;ir. The deputies made a formal declaration of their business to the sus- pected tribes ; and on receiving a satisfactory an- voL. 2. r f 222 swcr, tl^cy returned tie same in so many words, to the nine tubes ar;d an l-alf; wi.u ex^iebstd their high satisfaction at finding their suspicions to be groundless; and tie affair teiminated lo the entire satisfaction oi both panies, jos. >.x'n. Nothn^g could have induced me to i elate thi.-^ transaction in such general terms, but a wish tu take up as little room as possible in tl;e Gazette. But, every intelligent reader will easily see tliat I have Lith- iully i-elated the aff"dir in substance. Demo^hilus. C|je ^oVerci'stttp of tjfjc pccp!e— No. vii. Democracy is the only cofistitutioii oj government that God ivcr sanctioned, Ai'TER the death of Joshua, no successor hav- ing been appointed to him, the tribes were with- out any common leader and head, to serve as a common ligament between them, either in peace or war. And it appears to me, that God purpose- ly left them in this siiuatio i; that tiiey might u-,e their own liberty in instituting such a form of ad- ministration f jr t'le nation at larg.^ as they might judge most conducive to the common interest. There is no doubt, n.>t.v.t.istaiiding thiS, that each tribe had a settled a.ul reg dar g(n'ernment for itself. " Judges and rulers shait ti.ou coi:Sti- tute for thyself, m all thy gates," was a statute 22S cs^?iblished by the constitution. These were proportioned to the extent (jf c-ach city. OF thrir number diffrent e^tiamtes have been made. J )sephus, savs, there were seven in each. At any rate, whatever their number really was, we mast suppose that it was sufficient for the purpose of an equal distribution of justice. Wiien it is. therefore, said, tliat *^ a i- that time THEse oncj of whose courage and prudence they enter- 224 taincd a favorable opinion. No one, on any pre- tence, cold claim an auihority to command ihe people to follow him — They were, therefore, strictly, ELtcxLo oiuc^ks; but when once elect- ed their power was very great, thougii liable to be revoked whenever the pev.ple thought proper. An example or two will be sufficient t-. place the nature of this office in a satisfactory light. Gideon, who was the sixth of the judges, was the son of a poor family ia the tribe of Manasseh, and iHL LEAS i, that IS, the youngest or poorest in his father's house. However, being assured by an angel, that God would give him a complete vic- tory over the Midi vNirhs and Amal^ki tls, who had kept the people in servitude for eight years, he undertook the office. " And the spirit of the Lord came upon Gideon," that is, he became ani- mated with extraordinary courage and confidence, '' and he blew a trumpet, (the singal of war) and AsiEZER was gathered to him. And he sent mes- sengers though all Manasseh, v> ho also was ga- thered to him; and he sent messengers to Asher, and to Z BULUN, and to Nafhihali; and they came up to meet them," to the amount of thirty- two thousand in the whole. However, by God's particular direction, out of this number, three hundred only were selected to go against their enemies; who by a very singular stratagem, put the whole to the rout; and several of the tribes I 225 pursuing them in every direction, gave them a complete overthrow. On this the people Wc^re so highly pleased with Gideon, that they invited him to continue in office during life, and offered to settle the same m his family in perpetuity. — *' Then the men of Israel said to Gideon, rule thou over us, both thou and thy son, and thy son's son also ; — and Gideon said unto them, I will not rule over you, neither shall my son rule over you, the Lord shall rule over you.'" Judg. viii. Gideon was not only free from the ambition of authority over the people, but seemed to consider such a power as inconsistent with the supremacy of God over the nation, which the constitution of their government had settled as a fundamental, nay, as the very first article of it. An example of moderation which seldom happens, and which, if the people of Israel had properly considered, wuuld have saved them, in all tbeir succeeding genera- tions, from the heaviest calamites which any nation ever endured. The case of Jephtha is still more in point than that of Gideon. He was the son of Gilead by an harlot; and his legitimate brethren refusing him an inheritance among them, he removed and set- tled in a distant part. " And the people and prin- ces said one to another, what man is he t^at will begin to fight against the children of Ammon ? 226 He shall be head over all the inhabitant* OF G lead " — -^i^i Ig' X. '• And it came lo pass, in process of time, that the ch klren (;f Ammon made war against Israel: and It was so, that when t.ie ciiildren of Amm n made war against Israel, that the Elders of Gilead went to fetch Jephtha out of ilie land of Tob; and they said to Jephtha, come and be our captain, i' at we may fig t witn the children of Ammon ; and Jephtha said to the elders of Gilead, did not ye hate me, and exp. 1 me out of my father's house? And w!iy arc \e i^ow come to me, when ye are in dis- tress ?" This was a reply worthy of a man of spi- rit and honor ; but great spirits are capable of higher sentiments, than those of personal resent- ment. " And the Elders of Gilead said unto Jeph- tha, therefore we turn unto thee now, that thou mayest go with us and figlit against the children of Ammon, and be our head over all the inhabitants of Gilead ; and Jephtha said to the inhabitants of Gilead, if ye send me home again to fight the chil- dren of Ammon, and the Lord delivers them be- fore me, shall I be your head ? And the Eiders ( f Gilead said to Jephtha, the I ord he a vviiness be- tween us, if we do not so, according to thy words. Then Jephiha went with the Eddersof Gilead, ai-d the people lua .e him head, and captain over them. And Jrphlha uttered all nis words before the Lord in Mizpcii." — Jud^. zi. If any man can find, in 227 this transaction, any thing like aristocracy, and can make it appear to be such, I shall be less con- fident in my doctrine. But I may boldly inviie a ly admirer of aristocratic rank and power, to produce any thing in history, more completdy dtmocratic. The message of Jephtha to the kingof Ammon, pn vious to his proclamation of war against him, is not exceeded, if equalled, in point of modera- tion, argument and spirit, by any thing to be found in antiquity. The king was deaf to remon« strance; and, as usually happens, in cases of con- firmed obduracy and self confidence, was entirely overthrown. Jephtha continued in office for six years. During the continuance of tlie judges, who were not standing officers, but introduced merely on extraordinary occasions, the constitution know- ing nothing of them ; there happened an aifair, which seems as much as any other transaction, to shew the true character and spirit of the govern- ment. A Levite, who resided as a stranger on the side of Mount Ephraim, had gone to Betniehem-Judah, tu bring his concubine, wdi;) had left him, and tar- ried four months in her father's house. She was prevailed on to return with him; on her way home, she was treated with such contumelious violence, at Gibeah, ia the tribe of Benjamin, that she ex- 228 pired under the insolence. Her husband carried her body hume ; and cutting it in twelve pieces, sent a piece to each tribe. The affair being quite unexampled in the nation, excited universal hor- ror and indignation ; and they said to one another, *' there was no such deed done nor seen from the diiy that "the children of Israel came up out of the land of Egypt, unto this day; coubider of it, take advice, and speak." There immediately assem- bled at IMizpeh, which was then the stated place of tl seir national and solemn assemblies, four hun- dred thousand men, that drew the sword. The Levite, at the request of the people, having given a minute account of the abuse he had suffered, the people came to a solemn determination; ''and all the peoi;le were as one man, saying, we will not any of us go to his lent, neither will we, any of us, turn into his house : bat now this is tiie thing we will do to Gibeah; we will go up by lot against it, &ic." " So all the men of Israel were gathered against the city, knit together as one man. And the tribes of Israel sent men through all the tribe of Benja- min, saying, what wickedness is this that isd>)ne among }ou? Now, therefore, deliver us the men, the children of Belial, which are in Gibeah, that we may put them to death, and put away evil from Israel." But, the Benjamites refuhing to deliver up the perpetrators of the atrocity, the 229 other tnbes immediately went against them. The re-)Ult was, that the wiiole tribe ot Benj tmin was cut off; except six hundred wen., who having; taken refuge in an inaccessible fastness, obtained peace. The tribes through regret, granted it. When the peopL^, before breaking up their as' em- bly, found that the inhabitants of Jabesh-Gilead, had not come to the camp, they sent twelve thou- sand men, who destroyed every male, and every woman that had intercourse wuli man. The reason of this proceeding, several exam- ples of which nature, are to be found in the Israel- itish history, seems to be this — that the conni- vance of any pin of the naaon, at a crime pub- licly known, was a tacit approbation of the same ; and an expression of indifference to the calamiiy which the whole were lioble lo suffer, on every such occasion. This circumstance of the liability of the whole to pnnishm'::^nt, on the crim'nality of a part of tiie nation, and even of an individual, was an argument with the whole, to be vigilant over one another, to prevent the commission of offences against the law and constitution. With regard to Samuel, the last of the jad'.res, it must be observed, that he was raised up, in the character of a prophet ; and this character bemg always supported by miracles, claimed an entire obedience of the people, to the person who so acted. VOL. 2. (5; g "sisrf The character and conduct of Samuel wa«; cor- respondent to his office. But, having nominated his two sons to be judges in the state; a id the peo- ple, as might be expected from the character of Samuel, acct-ding to the nomination, they bfcame established in offic6,. However, their conduct was so very offensiveito the nation, that the\ re- solved on changing th€ governmep.t. Tliis was a rash and pernicious resolution; but, such as might have been expected from the occasion. The peo- ple were driven *o an extremity; and from the loi g experience of the tribes, they were rendered sen- sible of the disadvantages under which they la- boied from having no common head. But, the constitution admitted of no head but God himself; and the application for any other, was an act of high treason ; or, at least, a uullificaiion of the constitution. We might here dismiss the subject; as from this time the original compact was dissolved; and the government ceased to si and on its primitive foundation — the supremacy of God alone, over the nation. But, in proceeding through the Is- raelitish government, inuler their kings, an en- tirely new constitution, we shall find new proofs of the democratic form, and the democratic spirit which influenced them, in evciy stale of their ad- ministration. Demophilus. 231 €lf|e f otjcrciijnt? of tijt people— No. vi]L Democracy is the only constitution of government that God ever sanctioned. The Israelites, as bef;>re remarked, being wea^ ried with the government of Samull's scnis, went to him and demanded of him to give them a king. Sam> EL, it must be ob-^erved, had not made this appointment for his sons till he himself had be- come old, and incapable of sustaining the burden of government. His sons, tlieref>re, were proba- bly to act, in some sort, as his deputies. But lie was mistaken, as well as the people, as to their qualifications. It happened in this case as it too commonly does, that the sons, with all the good advice and instructions of thc-ir father, were ruled by their own passions, and added a proof, to a thousand others, that whatever other things may be hereditary, virtue is not in the number. On forming their determination to change the government in tiie expectation of obtaining a more regular and settled state of things, '• all the elders of ISfiAiLL gathered together, and came to Samuel, to R.vMAH, and said lo iiim, behold, thou art old, and' thy sons wak not in thy ways; now make a king, to judge us, like all the nations." The proposal vv^as displeasing to Samuel, who earned the matter to 232 God for his instruction on the occasion. God, in reply, told him to comply wah the request of the people; for, said he, " they have not rejected thee, but they have rejected me, that I should not reign ov^r them." It is remarkable, that Josephl'S uses a word here which imports that the people voii^D God fkom biding their kimg. '' Spu ERUx\r ME," is the translation of Junius and Tke- MEi-Lius; they have, by contempt, set me aside from being king — and both the Hebrew 'And ScptU' agiut agree in this sense. It was indeed, a very- high and treasonable contumely. But, as they had freely fleet d him to be their king, so, he permitted them^ on tht'ir own choice, to set him aside, and choose another in his room. The liberty turned out to their destruction. Samuel was then directed to give them a solemn admonition on the subject, and to inform them of the manner in which they might expect their kings Avould exercise their authiOrity over them; agree- ably to the customs of tliose of other nations. But the people, determined on havingtheir wish, said to Samuel — " Nay, but v/e will have a king over us that we also m.ay be like all the nations ; and tliat our king may judge us, and go out before us, and fight our battles." 1 Sam. viii. INloses, while in the wilderness, foreseeing that the people would, at some future day, ciiange their government, had given particular instructions on the subject, and 233 prescribed the rules by which they should be gov- erned in the choise of their king ; and by whicli ha was to be governed in his administration. " When thou art come into the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, and shah possess it, and dwell therein, and shah say — " I will set a king over me, like as ail the nations that are about me." Rules about their kings. 1. Thou shah, in any wise, set him king over thee, whom the Lord thy God shall chose. 2 From among thy brethren shalt thou set a king over thee; thou mayest not set a stranger over thee, who is not thy brother. 3. But, he shall not multiply horses to himself, nor cause the people to return to Egypt, to the end that he should multiply hor- ses; neitlier shall he multiply wives to himself. 5. Neither shall he greatly multiply to himself silver or gold, 6. And it shall be, when he sitteth on the throne of his kingdom, that he shall write him a copy of this law in a book, out of that which is be- fore, (in the custody of) the priests and Levitcs. And it shall be with him, that he shall read there- in all the days of his life: that he may learn to fear the Lord his God, to keep ail the works of this law and these statutes^ to do them that his heart be not lifted lip above his brethren.'' &c. Dent. xvii. Here we clearly perceive what sort of kings the Israelits were to have. They were limited so strictly in the exercibc of their ofiice, their duties 234 w^re so exactly prescribed, their ambition so re- tai ed and the whole of their powers so refined agreeably to the constitution, that no room what- ever was left for the exercise of their ov\n will; whatever bias it might have on the side of arbitra- ry power. Exactly defined as the laws were on this subject, tiieir kings acted as the lowest of man- kind commonly do j just as their ambitiun, sensu- ality or avarice pointed out tl.e way. It is, hovv- e\er, sufficient to my purpose to knuvv what the law was; how far their kings observed it, is a con- sideration vv^ith which I have no coi cern in this dis- cussion. Satinul w^as directed as il e seiies of the history points out to anoint Saul, the son of Kis, of the tribe of P.enjumin, to be the first king of the Is- raelites. This unction, or pouring of oil upon a person, was merely a designation to office; but it did not invest the person anointed icith the office what- ever it was. The power of doing thib lay entirely with the people. So, the lots were afterwards taken with respect to Saul, and the people inducted him into office. This inauguration seems to have been but parual, as' to the co icurrence oft; e people. There were some who disapproved of it, and therefore, brought t'le king no presents * However, Saul thought it prudent to take no notice of it. Aher a defeat * These presents, in some places, in the early ages, formed a principal pari of ihe royal revenues. 235 of the Ammorites, who had besiep^ed Jabesh- Gilead, the people became united — Then said Sa- muel to the peo,)le, come, let us go to Gilgal, and renew the kingdom there. And all the people went to (iilgal, aid they made Saul king before the Li)rdin Gilgd." — I Sam. xi. It ought to have been remarked, that after Samuel had declared the appointment of Saul to the kingd )m, and said to the people, "• do ye see him whom the Lord hath chosen." It is added — "then Samuel told the people the manner of the kingdom, and write it in a book, and laid it up before the Lord." — 1 Sam. x. This manner of the kingdom, I suppose to be the jus rfgni, or the la.vs whicli regulated the royal prerogative ; or it might be only a repetition of the rLdf:^s prescribed bv Mo^es, m the wilderness, already recit d. We shall find hereafter, that the king enters on his office, with a solemn promise to adhere to his du- ties, as prescribed by the law. Saul, by his mi^condact, being at length re- jected, as unworthy any longer, to sway the scep- tre, David, while a very young man, was, by di- vine appointment, designated by unction tf) take Saul's place. After passing through a series of difficulties, he was at length, on the d* ath of Saul, solemnly inaugiU'ated into office, by tie tribes >jf Judaii and Benjamin." The phice appoint -d for the purpose, was Hebron. And the iiicaof Judah 236 camev, and then they anointed David king over the house of Jucla.i. A strong {^arty however, even ten of the tribes, through the influence of Abner, who had been general of the army under Saul, set up Is'ibosheth, the son of Saul, in oppo- sition to David. And the time in which his king- dom was confined to a single tribe, and part of those of Benjamin, was seven years and six months — 2 Sam. ii. At length, however, on oc- casio 1 of an affront given by Ishboshcth to Ab- ner, the latter went to David and compacted with him, to bring the other tribes to unite with Jtidah under him. " Then came all the trlbrs of Israel to David in Hebron, saying, &:c. So all the 1; Iders came to the king to Hebron ; and king David made a league with them in Hebron, before the Lo'. d, and they anointed David king over Israel," 2 Sam. V. Though David had been designated by God himself to the kingdom, yet, w^e see that the people did not consider themselves as bound by this designation, to receive him. Afterwards, he was obliged previously to his entering into of- fice, to bind himself by a solemn compact, to fulfil the duties of his office according to the law. This was the league on his part; on theirs, the engage- nicnt to obedience, so far as he acted conformably to that law. David th.erefore was made king, by a free po- pular election ; and this being the inghest act of 237 sovereignty in a nation, there seems so far, a clear proof, that this government though a kingdom, was also a democracy. For sake of brevity, I have passed over the affair of Absalom, in drawing, through address, a large body of the people over to himself. Though an act of unnatural and most blameable ambition, it is still a proof of the liberty which the people thought themselves entitled to use, with respect to their government. It sprang from the consdtution itself; and we find no blame charged to their account for the proceeding. Demophilus. i^lje ^otjercigntp of tjje ^f^eople— No. IX. Democracy is the only constitution of government that God ever sanctioned. From the time that David left the peaceful em- ployment of a shepherd, to attend at the court of Saul, his life, for the greatest part of it, was a web of embarrassment and disaster. Saul had persecuted him with unrelenting ma- lice, and without a cause. Absalom, his darling son, had attempted to draw off the people from him — For seven years ten of the tribes refused to join themselves to his kingdom; and to crown all, when he was helpless and decrepid through age, and lay under the pressure of the last infirmities VOL. 2. H h 238 of life, his son Adonijah, put in his pretensions to the kingdom, against the appuintment of Solo- mon, who had been designated to the same by God himself, and authoristd lo possess it by the subsequent nomination of his father. In this bu- siness were concerned some of the principal men of the kingdom, Joab the general of the army, and Abiathar the priest. Though the affair was n ma- naged without any knowledge of David, it appears to have been done oi a sudden, and there was not time sufiicient to bring it to maturity, before it was discovered, and entirely defeated. Though Adonijah's project was baffled by the remaining authority of h^s father, it is easy to discern the opinion which the people entertained of their own rights; and probably nothing but the high estimation in which David was held, would have rendered his nomination of Solomon strong enough to carry it into effect. It was, however, carried into effect, and Solo- mon established on the throne, so far as his fa- ther's nomination could go; but, this was not suf- ficient to put him in peaceable possession of the supreme authority — The assent of the people was wanting : and this made it necessary to have ano- ther inauguration, in which there should be a more explicit and public agreement of the people to his coronation. 239 David having assembled " all the princes, (pr^fectos) of Israel, the princes of the tribes, and the captains of the companies that mniistered to the king by course, and the captains over the thou- sands, and the captains over the hundreds, and the stewards over all the possessions of the king, and of his sons, with the officers, with the mighty men, and with all the valiant men, unto Jerusalem." These men acted as the representatives of the whole people, the greatest part of them belongino- to the monthly courses; who not only acted as a militia, but were always present in the most im- portant transactions of the nation, in their turns. Each course or change consisted of twenty-four thousand. David began his address to them in these terms: — "Hear me, my brethren and my people," he. This is very extraordinary language for a king. If the king of Great Britain were to address his parliament in this manner, I suppose they would consider him as in a state of mental derangement. But David knew his duty, and that the succession of Solomon to the throne, de- pended on the will of the people. This, therefore, he first attempts to conciliate. After this, very solemn sacrifices were offered, and great festivity prevailed on the occasion; — ■. " and they eat and drauk, on that day, before the Lord, (tiiat is in a solemn rite) with great glad- ness. And they made Solomon, the son of David, 240 king the second time. And all the princes, and the mighty men (military officers) and all the sons of king David, (says our translation) submitted themselves unto Solomon the king." But the true translation is, dedenuit ?iufniim,^ (se Jore) siib- ditos regi scJiolomonU they pledged themselves to submit to him." — 1 Chron. xziz. From this time Solomon was peaceably settled on the throne, and enjoyed a reign of great glory and prosperity for forty years. He had, indeed, greatly deviated from his duty, as fixed by the laws of his kingdom. His idolatry through the influence of his heathenish wives ; his splendor of living, oppressive to the people, m guards, hor- ses, horsemen and chariots, rendered him so cul- pable, that he fell under the divine displeasure, and was twice informed, by God, that the kingly power should cease from his family — " Where- fore, the Lord said uuto Solomon, because this is done of thee, and thou hast not kept my covenant, 6ic. I will surely rend the kingdom from thee, and will give it to thy servants, &c. — 1 Kings, xi. God, however, assures him that he would not fulfil his threat in his days, and that he would not entirely rend the kingdom from the lamily of Da- * The givinEj of the rij^ht hand was, amont^ many nations, the pledge of fnendsliip and alliance. '* Thoui^h hand is in hand, (says Solonnon) the wickei shall not prosper." Though pledged to one another, they shall not be able lo execute their projects. 241 vid, to whom he had made express promises that some degree of rule in his tribe, should continue until the termination of the Jewish polity. And the promise, being of divine verity, was literally accomplished — Gen. zlix, 10. Accordingly, Reho- boam succeeded Solomon, probably, on the recom- mendation of the latter. This w^ould, no doubt, have considerable ef- fect, in securing the attachment of the people. The peace, the extraordinary prosperity of the nation during his reign; and ■a,bove all, the glory of the temple, so highly honorable to it; all contributed to render the accession of Rehoboam to the king- dom, certain and easy. " And Rehoboam went to Shechem ; for all Israel were come to Shechem, to make him king." 1 Kings, xii. As the kings of Israel, previous to their inau- guration into office, were obliged to enter into a solemn compact with the people, to act in their office according to law ; the deputies of the Is- raelites waited on Rehoboam, with a request that he would relieve them from some of the burdens which they had borne during the reign of his fa- ther. The request was perfectly just, as Solomon had certainly far exceeded his powers, in the im- positions he had laid upon them. Rehoboam put them off for the present, desiring them to come on the third day after. 242 In the mean time, he called the old men wha had been counseil :)rs to his father, to give their advice on the subject. They replied to him, as men of experience and sound discretion — "• If thou wilt be a servant to this people, this day, and will serve them, and answer them, and speak good words untu them, then they will be thy servants forever." The advice was reasonable and conformable to the rights of the people: and had it been followed, might have secured Rehoboam in possession of the whole kingdom, and prevented a rem which never could be repaired. The vain, and foolishly elated spirit of Reho- boam spurned at the advice of the old men ; and he preferred that of the raw and inexperienced young men, who had been in his father's court, the companions of his youth. Wiien the deputies of the people returned to receive his answer, he treated them with great in- soleiice; not only refusing to ease their burdens, but threatening to make them much heavier than those they had borne under his father. This would have been an high provocation to any people, who had not lost all sense of their rights. But to the people of Israel, a very dis- cerning and high-spirited nation, who from the commencement of their government, fully under- stood their own privileges and authority, it was al- 243 together insupportable. Ten of the tribes imme' diately revohed from Rehoboam, and set up Jero- boam, who had been an officer under Solomon, in his stead. The tribes of Judah and Benjamin,* adhered to Rehoboam — But, they had not influence enough to bring the other ten tribes to unite with them. They were afterwards, in a state of perpetual en- mity, under two separate kingdoms. We cannot, here avoid remarking the folly and absurdity of hereditary succession, as a security against the turbulency of elective governments. Elective governments are, indeed, sometimes at- tended with great inconveniencies : but, these are transient. The inconveniencies of hereditary suc- cession are permanent and remediable only by vio- lent revolutions. In elective governments there is a prospect of wisdom and justice, because the people are seldom materially wrong, in either of these particulars, unless they are biassed by un- due influence ; which seldomer happens under the popular form of government, than either the kingly or aristocratic. Solomon, probably, wrote his proverbs for the particular instruction of his son Rehoboami — but, how far he profited by the sage lessons of his fa- * The tribe of Judah, as being the largest, Is often mentioned «lone, ,\vhen both are concerned. 244 ther, we may pretty well judge by his conduct, with respect to the people. On the advantages of hereditary succession, the excellent Goguet, whose learning, candor, and piety, I higl^ily admire and esteem, makes the fol- lowing remarks: After acknowledging ihsit crowns were originally elective^ he says, " but this cus- tom coLdd not continue long; mankind must soon discover the advantages of a son's succeeding to his father's kingdom ; every thing pleaded in favor of the young prince. The veneration they had entertained for his father, the noble sentiments and wise instructions, it was to be presumed, he had received from him: these, and many otiier motives, would determine nations in general, to submit to the sons of their deceased monarchs."* This is mere theory: facts cannot be found to support it. The course of history is directly against these sen- timents; and nothing, I think, could have biased the mind of this worthy mnn^ and profound an- tiquarian, to express himself in terms so incapable of being supported by facts, but an habit of pre- judice in favor of monarchy, contracted from his earliest years. Is it true, or is it even probable, that monarchs are generally careful to give the heirs apparent to the crown, instructions in their office? And, out of the number who are so insu-actcd, what propor- * Oiigin of laAVs, 6tc. vol. j. 245 tion, may we suppose, are the better for them? We can be very positive that such instructions are very uncommon, and that they are seldomer follow- ed than given. Look at the prince of IFales the heir apparent to the crown of Great Britian, &c.! Were the United States in prospect of having at their head a man so completely dissipated, with- out improvement, and incapable of it, I would re- tire from the union, and prefer the quietude of a Cherokee to the dishonor of living under a govern- ment, in v/hich there would be no security for wis- dom, justice, or in fact, any advantage that could recompense the burdens of civilized life, to make it desirable above what is called the Savasre. I should not have troubled myself to take notice of men, of whoar 1 entertain the most contemptible opinion, had it not come directly in the way of my argument. Peace to them! I have no concern with them. After the rupture I have mentioned among the Israelites, the ten tribes formally constituted Je- roboam their king. Here our excellent translators, full of the idea of the divine right of kin^js^ and kingdoms, say — " So Israel rebelled against the house of David unto this day." Tiiis is very er- roneous and unjust, implying a stigma on the ten tribes. The meaning is defecerunt, they revolted, or Y^iherfeil off from the house of David. There is not the least blame or dishonor attached to their VOL. 2. I i 246- conduct; as we are expressly told that " the thijig urns of God.''' Rehoboam, had prepared an arniy of one hundred and eighty thousand men to reco- ver the ten tribes; but, a message from God caus- ed the people to delist from the design. Demophilus. Cl&c .5>olitret3ntp of rje pccple— No. X. Democracy is the only coiistitutioji of government iJiat God ever sanctioned. Having passed through the reigns of Saul^ JDavid^ Soloihon^ ai')dtliat oi' E:'hoboain his son, as far as the division of the tr bes into separate go- vernments, and having in my own vi("w, seen the government of the Israelites to be, so iar, a true representative democrocy, \ si.all here stop in the his- tory of that people. The remaining part of it is not in the least interesting to this discu.-^sion; and presenting, until the terminati-m of their polity, noihing but a series of co ifa-io i, usur|)ation, as- sasination and tyranny, the vievv of it is neither pleasant nor instructive, more than the histories of other nations which have been abandoned to crimes, and their consequent and ne^^essary purn.sh- ments. This was the deplorable fate of that peo- ple wiio had once sustained the high and prero- gative honor of being the peculiar people of God. But, not discerning their true interests; revolting 247 from him who had undertaken to preserve them in a state of perpetual prosperity while obedient to his will; and falling, from time to time, into the most impious and irrational idolatry, they were at lengtli subjected to all the calamities which Moses, so long before had predicted would fall upon them on their dereliction of their pledged obedience. There is no event in history so truly affecting ^s the destruction of a nation who had once been in a situation more envi ible than that of any other upon earth. To this day their descendants feel the effects of the sins of their forel-athers, though these are much mitigated by the liberal policy uf the American government; and i cannot but think the equal liberty granted to them the chief glory of our Constitution. 1 hope they will improve the the benefit, as I think they \ ill, with honor to them- selves and advantage to the natioa! In the course of this discussion, I had intend- ed to take particular notice ol the S inJicdrim^ so celebrated in the Jewish history; but, on mt>re mi- nute nivestigatioii of the subject, finding it to be of no consequence to the understanding of the con- stitution, bein.>- a mere usurpation in their times of co>if.ision, I sl:tall pass it by. I shall only remark in this place, that as fir down as the time of (.hrist and his apostles, the same democratic spirit is clearly to be seen. The Sanhedrim, though the supreme court-of the natiun, 248 aRfl being permitted by the Romans to exercise their authority over their own people; so far as not to extend to the power of hfc and death, yet we find them continually afraid of the people, Tlioughthey were most bitterly opposed to the doc- trines of Christianity, and wished to blight it in the very bud, they dared not to execute a single resolution without first engaging the people on their side. Their influence over their multitude by persua- sion, determined Pilate^ against his own consci- ence and inclination, to pronounce the sentence of death on Jesus Christy the head and promised de- liverer^ of that very nation who would be satisfi- ed Vv/ith nothing but his death. I earnestly wish that the guilt of their forefathers may soon be re- moved from them, and that every nation in the world may at length treat a people so long perse- cuted with unrelenting severity, with the same hu- manity and justice that they have found in Ame- rica. If the descendants of Jacob will pardon me the liberty of advising them, in which I have no inter- est but the desire of their prosperity, and equal happiness with that of the other people of the Ame- rican States, I \vould recommend to them to give their children, wlien circumstances will admit of • The word, Jesns is only a translation into Greek of the Hebrew word Joshua, or Jehoshuang, vi hicl>-signifies a healer or deliverer. 249 it, a liberal education^ that they may be qualified to rise to public offices, equal with others. They have the privilege and if they neglect it the fault will be upon themselves. I shall now return and take a view, though an hasty one, of the ciiaracter and tendency of the laws given to Israel-, and I can say, with confidence, that no system of policy ever adopted by the most celebrated law givers or nations of antiquity, can bear the least comparison with it. This government has been called, from the yewish historian, jfosephus^ a Theocracy;* and so it was, in a very appropriate sense. But this is so far from obviating the idea of its being a demo- cracy, that is the principal circumstance^which ren- dered it realy such. 1. The whole system of their laws was perfect- ed at once, so as never to need revision or amend- ment; which human wisdom could not have done. 2. It was accommodated to the condition of persons of every condition, without the least distinction. 3. It was the most perfect provision that ever was made against the tyranny of one member of the community over another. No room whatever was left far this. 4. From these considerations, it must appear to have been a system calculated for the security of * The government of God; 250 life, property, ease, and every benefit Implied in the social compact, without respect to poor or rich, free or bond. I hese pro[jositions will be verified by the fulloAing establishments, which no power in the state could abolish or aher, without over- turning the whole, and tl;e infrmgement on the least article xoas high ttrasion. I The inheritors of land in the tribes, and of the families and individuals of each tribe, were made inalienable, by the constitution. The por- tion, whatever it was, remained forever the pro- perty of the original owners or their posterity; and and no coritract made through necessity, would de- prive them of it, only for a limit^-d time. There was a most admirable provision, peculiar to the jfewish polity, against the insatiable spirit of ava- rice; by wdiich an overgrown monied aristocracy, has in a thousand instances, become the most suc- cessful engines of oppression. The statute mak- ing this provision was clear and positive; and tiie man who had dared to invalidate it, even with re- gard to the poorest in the commonwealth, would have forfeited his life, as the penalty of his pre- sumption, ''So shall not the inheritence of the cljildrcn of Israel remove from tribe to tribe; for every one of the children of Israel shall keep him- self lo the inheritance ot tiie tribe of his fathers." Num. xxxvi. 7, 9. 251 Out of this principle sprung an institution ex- tremely favorable to humanity, and the perma- nence of liberty ; this was — 2. The year of release, which was every se- venth in course — on this year, every creditor that lent to an Hebrew, was bound to release the loan. The poor were to be supplied. "Thou shakopen thme hand wide unto him, and shall surely lend to him for his need." An Hebrew man servant or woman servant, who had served six years, was on that year to be freed. " And when thou send- est him out free, thou shalt furnish him liberally out of thy flock, and out of thy floor, and out of thv wine press." But if such servant, through attachment to the family, chose to remain in it, his ear was bored to the d .'or post, and he was bound until the Jubilee. But this ceremony was to be performed before ihe Elders of the place, that there might be no room for fraud — Dcut. xv. Ex. xxi. But, the most important institution in the state, for the preservation of personal independence, was — 3. The year of Jubilee.* This desirable year returned every 50th in course ^ and, from the universal joy which attended it, was called the ac- ceptable year of the Lord. * The land in this year, was free to every person. There was no personal property in it. 252 In this year there was an universal release of pre-occupation. Debts, servants, prisoners, lands which had been purchased, houses in unwalled towns, were all set free, or restored to their original owners. There was, however, in this case, a very jvist and reason ible principle established. Every law in favor of the poor, was so constructed, that there should be no infriu'^ement on the rights of the richer part of the state. When land was purchased, the price of it was estimated, from the time of the purchase to the Jubilee. If any thing was paid over that time, it was to be restored, on the return of the property to the ori;i;inal owner—Lev. xxvi. 8. For sake of brevity, I pass by the other pecu- liarities of this festival. It will be easy for any person who desires to understand it more fully, to look into the institution itself, as just referred to. He will there find, no trace of a privileged aristo- cracy ; nor any separate provision for wealth, birth, or even for kings themselves. Judges, ge- nerals, heads of tribes, leaders, kings, or whatever names were given to men of distinction in the state, all of them were bounJ by the same law. God, who makt's no distinction between men, for the trifling and unimportant differences of their out- v/ard circumstances, constituted the system of his laws on principles adapted to the situation of man- kind in all conditions, that all might enjoy every 253 benefit which their situation in society would ad- mit of. Men of weak and uncuhivated minds, incapa- ble of great ideas, are apt to value themselves for, considerations, which those of solid merit and just discernment, think unworthy of estimation; as nei- ther conferring real happiness, nor importance on their possessors.* But, God views things in a very different light. His constitution of the Israel- itish government, and especially that of the gospel, are decisive proofs of the vanity of all distinctions in human life, that are not founded in virtue and other qualifications, which may render men useful to one another, during their short existence here. Birth, wealth, talents, and cultivation, can be no further really estimable than as they are employed to the common advantage. Applied to the bene- fit of their possessors only, they are deserving of no estimation, more than bodily strength, a mere animal ability, which an horse or an ox possesses in a much higher degree than man. Let us now make an observation or two, on the taxes established by the Israelitish constitution, and we shall find them to be such as favored, in the highest degree, the liberty of that people. They were easier, I believe, than those of any other na- * We mi£;;ht here mention men among ourselves, who are charmed to extacy, with honorable, right honorable^ and such childish baubles, umvorthy of men. VOL. 2. K k 254 tion in the world; and so far from favoring the avaricious spirit of domination, there was not a single one in the constitution that was not indis- pensably necessary fur the purpose of maintaining it. Nothing was left to the VviU of their rulers; no stimulus to the views of luxury, or the desire of acquiring opulence by serving the community. Every thing in this, as in all other appointments, was dignified and disinterested. The only contributions which the people were obliged to make by law, were these ; — the sacrifi- ces they were bound to offer to God, as a part of their homage, and an acknowledgment of their sins, which would be forgiven only by an atone- ment, of which they were only types, prefigura- tive of the real cause of their forgiveness : but not the cause itself. A tenth part of the produce of their fields, vineyards, sheep and black cattle, was the property of the Levites, who were both magistrates in civil affairs, and assistants to the priests in the service of the sanctuary. They had no portion allotted to them, among the other tribes : but, in lieu of this, thirty-five cities in the different tribes, on both sides of the river Jordan, were allotted to them, togetht r with the suburbs of those cities, to the extent of two thousand cubits, on every side the produce of these suburbs was their subsist- ence, while not in actual service. During the time 255 of their service, they had their support, as before mentioned. Beside this support of the Levites, which was very light, each man of twenty years of age, paid about a quarter dollar of our money, to the Ubc of the priests and Levites, once in his life. This ransom-jTioney was an acknowledgment to God, as the preserver of life; and the other pre- scribed contributions v/ere a civil list tax, for the support oF government. Some other taxes took place in after times ; but as these were unconstitutionat, we have nothing to do with them. There was another contribu- tion which may here be mentioned; and which I thiiik shows more than any other, the humanity of the Jewish constitution. It was this — on every third year, each family was obliged to make a feast of charity — to which the fatherless, the widow, the neighboring poor and the Levites, were to be invited. This festi- valwas to be held at the sanctuary, wherever it was, in order to make the stronger impression of the duty on the minds of the people. It is impossible to conceive of any institution in society, more favorable to the cultivation of be- nevolence and humanity ; and to perpetuate among the Israelites, the remembrance of their being de- rived from the same stock. The Spartans, v/ho have been supposed to be descendants of Israel, 256 and whose government had a strong resemblance to the latter, probably instituted their public meals from this example, perliaps also, the feasts of charity* or love, among the primitive christians, may have been derived from the same origin. At the commencement of the American revo- lution, the celebrated Dr. Samuel Johnson, of Lon- don, was employed by the ministry of that go- vernment, to write in its favor. He accordingly, wrote a piece, entitled ''■ Taxation no tyrajinyJ'^ But, it must be known to every man who knows any thing at all of the history of government, that taxation has been the most successful engine ever employed by tyrants, to keep the great mass of mankind in a state of subjugation which precluded all hopes of a just and rational liberty. This infa- moub intrusion on the rights of men, has produced no other effect than to support in luxury and ex- cess, those who held the reins of government: while the body of the people were in want of the common necessaries of life. The Israelitish government made no provision for such detestable rapacity. The servants of the community had a decent and competent support, established by law ; and while it sufficed them, it was no burden to the people. Demophilus. * The word charity in the gospel, signifies strictly? ?wf— love to> christian brethren particularly. 257 €|jc ^obereistttp of tge ^^eople— No. XI. Democracy is the only constitution of government that God ever sanctioned. Illustrations of the spirit and tendency of the Israelitish government. The tribes which constituted the Jewish na- tion,* were descendants from one father, and were, therefore, in the constitution of their government, considered as brethren of the same family. It was, therefore, agreeable to a just law of nature, that no one should be considered as having a right to exercise a discretionary power over the rest of the family. The principle, then, on which the con- stitution seems to have been founded, was this — that no individual of the nation could zaith proprie- ty be made a visible head of the whole. God there- fore, by becoming their real head and director, freed them from the inconvenience of being sub- jected to a single man, or any number of men, whose authority might tempt them to the exercise of powers destructive of that fraternity by which the ties of nature had bound them together. * I use the terms Israelitish and Jewish^as synonimous; though they were not properly called J«ws till after their return from then' first captivity. 258 Another, and a greater object in uniting them in one common and equal government was, to per- petuate, by them, those truths respecting the true God, and the common saviour^ who had been pro- mised to the world, particularly through the line of that family. For the purpose of maintaining the purity and certainty of the prophecies respect- ing the Mrssiah,^ it was necessary to interest the people at large, in the care of preserving them entire and unadulterated; which could not have been done so certainly, under a government which was not equally favorable to the whole. — Distinction of rank, and exclusive powers in the constitution, would have put it in the power of individuals or privileged parties to interpret the predictions res- pecting the Messiah^ in their own way; and their authority would have prevailed, as it ultimately did, when the principles of the constitution had been subvertedby the usurpation of the Sanhedrim; and oral tradition, by the same usurpation, had ta- ken place of the original law. Had the constitu- tion been adhered to, nothing of this sort could have happened. The nature of the government was calculated to extinguish pride, and attachments founded on the narrow principle of self-love. But no guard was sufficient to effect this purpose. This foolish and unreasonable principle so preva- * The sent, the Christ, the anointed one. 259 lent in the human heart, became a principal objec- tion with the haughty- and ambitious part of the people, against receiving the Messiah when he came; though his apperance«was in every respect conformable to prediction. He was brought up at Nazareth^ a poor village, and to a proverb, noted for meanness and dishonesty. It was therefore objected against Christ by a very honest man " can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" But his prejudice was soon corrected, and he became a dis- ciple of the Nazareen. This was in the very spirit of the world, which has always been opposite to reason, and the most successful cause in obstructing the happiness of mankind. The Israelitish constitution, by giv- ing no encouragement to such partiality of interest and opinion, laid the best foundation that the state of mankind could admit of, for forming a just esti- mate of the real interests of human life, and for prosecuting them accordingly. But, with all these advantages, the nation failed of God's peculiar care in placing it in so dignified and enviable a situ- ation. The first principle of the constitution Vv^as, that God himself was to be their legislator, judge and leader. This was putting them at once in a state of complete security against the errors of idolatry, the uncertainty of human decisions, and the pow- er of their enemies. The next principle was, to •260 maintain among themselves the obligation of cha** rity and justice, particularly as brethren. The laws enforcing this latter duty, were expressed in so many different ways, that it was impossibe not to understand them. As to the laws relating to their conduct to- wards one another, that respecting the care of hu- man life, is the most conspicious. Voluntary homicide was never to be pardoned. " Thou shalt take no commutation for the life of a mur- derer — he sliall surely be put to death." This law extended to all sorts of people without distinc- tion. And so careful was the constitution with respect to the life of man, that involuntary homi- cide, proceeding from carelessness in the perpe- trator, where no real criminality was supposed, obliged him to fly to a city of refuge, where he was bound to remain till the death of the existing High Priest. If. previous to that time, he were found out of the city, the avenger of blood, that is, any relation of the deceased, who under tookto revenge the injury, might kill him with impunity. This was in appearance, a severe institution. But its tendency in favor of human life, is obvious. No- thing, perhaps, could have been more so. It tended to preserve in the minds of the peo- ple, an habitual attention to the safety of one ano- ther. This prescribed attention served to strength- en more, perhaps than any other consideration, 261 the ties by which nature and the common consti- tution had connected them ; and to keep alive by habitual action, the principles of benevolence and humanity, so necessary to the true ends of society. By diis law the life of man was estimated at an equal value, without any respect to difference of circumstances, as to riches or poverty, distinc- tion or obscurity: the penalty of taking it away, was exacted with the same punctuality from every member of the community. No other government in tl^e world has ever paid the same attention to so im^portant a subject. Demophiuus. €\jt ^obeteigntp of tjje people— No. xii. Democracy is the only constitution of government that God ever sanctionecL In whatever view we consider the Israelitish government, the excellencies peculiar to it must appear strong and impressive. It bears every cha- racter that can be considered as indicative of a most perfect knowledge, in the framer, of the wants of humanity, the obligations of charity, the true interests of society, and the best means of es- tablishing it, on the only basis on which it can firmly stand, that of mutual benevolence and justice. vol.. 2. L 1 262 The establi.^hment of the same ideas of God among the whole, without the hberty of deviating from any one character, which was fixed by the constitution ; the same common formahties of di- vine worship, estabhshed by their own free con- sent, the obhgation on the vv^hole nation, to meet every year at their stated festivals, to celebrate the divine benefits to themselves in particular ; the laws for perpetuating the same landed property in the family of the original owners, the festival of charity on every third year, the establishment of judges in every tribe, city, and village, for the decision of controversies, without fee or reward; the obligation on these judges to determine, in every case, according to the written law, word for word — the laws in favor of persons borrowing through necessity — those in favor of servants, of strangers, and even captives in war. In fine, the perfect balance of powers in the state, on one side, to guard against a.iarchy, and on the other, against oppression, are all such characters of a perfect government, and of a government insti- tuted with equal regard to every member of the CO nam unity, that I think we are not only obliged to acknowledge it to be of divine authority, but, except in regard to God himself, a true represen- tative democracy. For, if it were not a demo- cracy, let me ask the favor of any man to show me what it was ! The constitution certainly never 263 contemplated any ot^cr king than God. The in- stitution of the kingly government was reprobated by Samuel in the strongest terms; and terrible prodigies succeeded the criminal infatuated reso- lution of the people to have a king. There were certainly no ranks of nobility in the state, unless any one should choose to say, that seniority was a rank of nobility ; ,to prove which I think, woi\ld be an utterly absurd and desperate adventure. We may say, w th as much propriety, that the old men among our northern Indians are nobles — for instance, Dukes, Earls, Marquises, &c. as that the Elders among the Israelites were an aristocracy. There is no term in the Hebre w language to express what we mean by aristocracy ; and there is not, in the constitution, the shadow of such a corruption. Every thing there is hu- mane and liberal. — The wants and conveniencies of the people at large, are alone consulted. — In every community the poor must, necessarily, make a large proportion of the v/hole ; and that government is certainly the best, which makes tlie most effectual provision against the muhiplication of persons of such a condition ; and for their re- lief when they unavoidably take place. Governments in general, take no notice of the poor ; bat leave them to shift for themselves, in the best manner they can. Benevolence, unau- thorised by law, is their only hope ; they may find 264 relief or not, just as those to whom they apply, are disposed to assist them, or not. An apple, a peach, or an ear of corn, may be refused to the most urgent necessity, and though lite itself were at stake; and no law can oblige the possessor to yield the smallest pittance, to redress the most pi- tiable wants. It was far otherwise in the Jewish consdtu'ion. — Widely different from all other con- stitutions, benevolence, next to the worship of God, was its maiii and governing principle — it considered the common people as members of the community, equally with the rich. — Riches, in- deed, were of no consideration there. It consi- dered them as proofs neither of talents nor virtue; as benefits which, like the rains and sunshine, come equally to the evil and the good. So far as human exertions go, in the business of the world. I consider the mere talent for making money, as the meanest which a man can possess. It re- quires only a constant and minute attention to the main object; to suitable ways and means; to punctilio's of pence and farthings; and an inces- sant respect to objects, which a mind possessed of taste and sentiraent, cannot possibly attend to. To this is often added, for the sake of the dear and favorite object, the sweat and blood of multi- tudes, to gratify the ambition or avarice of some wretch, who has no superiority of virtue or talents above the unhappy beings who are doomed to be 265 the ministers to the grossest passions that ever dis- honored humanity. The Jewish constitution paid a dignified disregard to objects of such inferior importance ; while other governments too com- monly give indulgence to the meanest passions, by admitting wiih impunity, the most distressing violence of the strong against the weak, and the rich against t;ie poor; that most humane and equi- table constitution provided with parncular cire against such violations, by making them highly penal in the offenders, without respect to persons. Such is the condescending and tender regard which (iod himself has paid to ihe commonalty of mankind; while the haughty and unfeeling spirits of their own race, too often treat them as beings of an inferior order, who merit no better a condi- tion ; and aggravate ihe unavoidable ills of life by studied insult, or bestial apathy. But, while sym- pathy eujoys a sweet recompense, in suffering with those who suffer, whatever their condition: the fero:;ity of the cruel is accompanied with the tortu- ring forebodings of avenging justice; and the in- sensibility of the apathic with oppressive insipidity, in the most favorable situation. Thus, accounts are so far balanced, even here. On the one side, we see cheerful hope, improving into relish every bounty of Providence ; on the other, gloomy des- pondence, blasting with the breath of pestilence, the best benefits of heaven. Retributive justice 266 has not in reserve more fiery shafts of vengeance, than those which will finally transfix the unfeeling oppressors and tormentors of their fellow men. But to go on: — The following passages, enforcing the obligations of humanity, ia the Israelitish code, while they afford an high gratification to those who are capable of sympathising with the indigent and unhappy, reflect shame and dishonor on all other governments ; and indicate, that benevolence itself framed a constitution, in which the benefit of the meanest subject was contemplated, equally with that of the greatest. Nay, greatness, falsely so called; a mere shadow and delusion, was there entirely disregarded and unknown. But let us hear the law itself. " Thou shalt not see thy brother's ox, or sheep, go astray, and hide thyself from them; thou shall in any case, bring them again to thy brother" — Deut. xxii, 1, 2, 3, 4, 8. The precept in the 8th verse is peculiarly important, because the house top, which was fiat, was for retu'ed prayer, fjr airing in hot weather, and other necessary or con- venient purposes. " Thou shalt not K-nd upon usury, to thy brother; usury of money, usury of victuals; usury of any thing that is lent upon usury" — Deut. xxiii, 19. An Israelite, notwith- stanchng, might lend on usury to an heathen neighbor. ' 267 m " No man shall take the nether or upper mill- stone to pledge; for he takeih a man's life to pledge," — Deut. xxiv, 6. The importance of this law is obvious. They used hand-mills with two stones; such as are used in some parts of this country. , " When thou dost lend thy brother any thing, thou shalt not go into his house to fetch his pledge : thou shalt stand abroad ; and the man to whom thou dost lend, shall bring out the piedge abroad unto thee; and, if the man be poor, thou shalt not sleep with his pledge," &c. — Deut. xxiv, 10, II, 12, 13. " In this case, thou shalt deliver him the pledge again, even as the sun goeth down ; that he may sleep in his raiment, and bless thee." " Thou shalt not oppress an hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of thine own bre- thren, or of thy strangers that are in thy land, within thy gates: at his day, (that is, the same day) thou shalt give him his hire ; neither shalt the sun go down upon it, for he is poor, and set- teth his heart upon it; lest he cry against thee unto the Lord, and it be sin unto thee. "--v. 15. " Thou shalt not pervert the judgment of the stranger, nor of the fatherless, nor take a widow's raiment to pledge."— v. 17. " When thou cuttest dow^n thy harvest in thy field, and hast forgotten a sheaf in the field, thou shalt not go again to fetch it : it shall be for the stranger, for the fatherless, 268 and for the widow: that the Lord thy God may bless thee in all the works of thy hands. When thou beatest thine ohve-tree, thou shah not go over the b jughs again ; it shall be for the stran- ger, the fatherless, and the widow. W-hen thou gatherest the grapes of thy vineyard, thou shalt not glean it afier thee; it shall be fjr the stran- gr:r, the fatherless, and for the widow." — v. 19, 20, 21. In these precepts humanity accompanied with the most perfect delicacy, displays the origin of the Isr.ieiitish constitutions to be more than hu- man, by the unequalled regard it discovers to the jTiost helpless and pitiable part of the human race. Even charity itself, is sometimes accompanied with circumstances so moriifying to those who are in want of its benefits, as almost to render them more distressing t"> the receivers, than the want ol them could be. There is more cruelty often in doing a favor, thin in denying it. Tne benignity of the precepts jvist mentioned, is intended to guard, as much as possible, against injuring the feelings of those whose necessities might compel them to de- pend on beneficence, rather than suffer the extre- mities of want. Bounty is, in reality, doubled in value, when it proceeds fro n a cheerful giver. These remarks are made wit i particular regard to the case of taking a pledge — and I k low of no- thing in any system of laws, so charmingly ex- 269 pressive of that delicate humanity which is due to the distressed, and which is not so eftectually expressed by the bounty itself, as by the sympathy of the benefactor. In this sympathy there is a consolation to suffering, which imports the best support that the necessities of nature will admit of, without the supplies they immediately require. It is, in a measure, food to the hungry, and clothes to the naked ; and reconciles the wearied stran- ger to repose himself on the naked earth, where charity cannot afford a better lodging. Demophilus. VOL. 2. Mm 270 A FAIR STATEMENT. J^UMBER. I. It has long given me extreme concern, and excited strong indignation, to read in the public prints, the most unjust, ilhberal, and irritating abuse, that has been lavished on great numbers, of as tried patriotism as any in the nation, under the names of Democrats, Demagogues, Republi- cans, Anti-federalists, Disorganizers, &:c &c. They have been vilified and denounced as De- mocrats, by the members of a Democracy ; as Re- publicans, by the members of a RepubUc; as Anti- federalists, by men who themselves wished to vio- late our federalism, by separating the eastern from the southern states; as Disorganizers, by men who wished to disorganize us, by breaking the uni- ty of the nation. They have been denounced un- der the latter name, by a man, raised among our- selves, who, it is well known, previously to his obtaining the unmerited honor of a seat in the le- gislature of the nation, had taken strong measures 271 to disorganize the very state which raised him to importance.* As to the charge of aiming at anarchy, and the subversion of order, it gave us much consolation, and made us tiiiak the belter of ourselves; because we, knew that such reproaches were the common caat of the enemies t)f liberty always, and every where. We knew t lat a manf, whose memory ought to be for ever dear to Americans, and to all other people contending in the same cause, had been treated before us, with the same honor. " Are there not many, whose study it has long been to introduce disorder and confusion, to encourage tuinu;ts and seditions, to destroy all rule, and ail au- thority, by traducing governments, despising domi- nion, and spe iking evil of dignities, ? By assuming visionary and impracticable principles, as the only true foundation of a free government, which tend to raise discontents in the people, to harden some in actual rebellion, and to dispose others to follow their example?" J The offending passages of Dr. Price were these: " As far as, in any instance, the operation of any * The same man has also most terribly dema^roj^ued the poor re- publicans; though he himself his candidU confessed, that his voracious appetite could never be satisfied with less than the demagogijeshipof the ^vhoIe nation. t Dr. Price, i Bishop Lowth's Sermon on Ash Wednesday, 1779. 272 cause comes in to restrain the power of self-gov- ernment, so far slavery is introduced."* " The representation must be complete: no state, 2l part of which only is represented in the legislature that governs it, is self-governed. "f For this ilhberal abuse, the Bishop received severe but justly merited correction, from his par- ticular friend, the amiable poet Hayley.f When we considered also the quarter from whence a great part of this abuse fell upon us, we felt not only very easy, but were confirmed in the opinion, that the cause we had espoused had never been obnoxious to any man, who had not strong reasons of state for disliking it. One great offence given to those people, and in itself a mortal sin, is, that we professed ourselves to be attached to France. We were, from princi- ple, attached to it, and, from the same principle, we are attached to it still; but, we are attached to it, not as a nation, but as a republic, founded on principles similar to our own. We were the more attached to it, as we saw it most furiously attack- ed by the combined despotisms of Europe, who were determined to overthrow it. And we were attached to it, most of all, as we believed that our existence as a Republic, in a great measure, if not • Ob^'ervations on civil liberty. f Additional observations: I Eltgy on the Ancient Greek mode, &c. 273 entirely, depended on the exertions it was making to support itself. We had other reasons, which had, at first, and still have, great force in forming our attachments to the French Republic. From many considera- tions, we believed that the republican form of go- vernment was the most favorable to the several endsof the political association, which undoubted- ly was the ground on which we gave the prefer- ence to that form, on erecting our independence: that God, who had originally " made of one blood, all the nations of men," would certainly, at some future time, abolish all those distinctions, which had so long subjected the great mass of mankind to the tyranny of a few, and for near six thous- and years had caused the whole creation to groan and travail together in pain; and that this political redemption, so earnestly expected by the crea- tion*, (whole human race) had commenced in the Eastern world, in the French revolution, and would go on, maugre all opposition, till all the des- potisms of the earth were effectually overthrown, and one universal republic erected on their ruins, forever to subsist by the strongest of all ties, the ties of Christian Charity. In the outset of this statement, I pledge myself to you, gentlemen, that my aim is not to irritate "^ Romans, 8th Chapter, 274 the wounds of my 'country, but to assuage themj not to divide, but to unite my country- men in ilie most strenuous efforts to maintain our indepeiid- ence compleie, against all foreign niflueuce^ and all foreign violence whatsoever. And this is i^y aim, because 1 am. A TRUE RePUBI.ICAN". May 10, 1793, arid 22d. — 23d. of the Republic. Health and Fraternity ! % fair Statement— No. ii. The federalists, that is, they who have wished to preserve the unity and indivisibility of the na- tion, have been charged with the piacular crime, of being jealous of government. They will neuher deny the charge, nor attempt to evade it. Nay, they readily admit, that they have still their jea- lousies, and cannot, yet, see reasons to extinguish them. They well remember, that the former head servant of the nation, had denounced the fe- deralism, when It lay an infant in the cradle, in suspense between life and death, by declaring that it had ever been a leading feature of republics, to be ungrateful to their benefactors, or words to that amount. But, the assertion was not, in fact, true: and, with respect to himself, his experience after- wards ought to have induced him to retract it; as no public servant, since the world began, had ever 275 been more amply rewarded for his services, if ho- nor, gratitude, affection, aid confidence, could be considered as rewards. Had money been his ob- ject, he might have had as much of that too, as he chose to ask, and as the nation could afford to give. But, he had no children, and had suffered nothing of consequence, in his estate, during the war ; and being in no need, he rL-linquished all reward, except the highest place m the nation, and its attendant honors. The federalists were jealous also, when they saw the same man, when advanced to the chair of state, fondly adopting into his fiimily, all the un- meaning etiquette and parade of European courts; which gave them offence, not only as novelties, and absurdities, in a commonwealth ; as tending to corrupt the simplicity of our manners, and au- guring ill with respect to our future liberties; but, as calculated to effect a closer amity with the court of Britain, than could comport either with the dignity of our republican government, or the per- manency of our independence. And the influence of these courtly measures, both in the manners and political opinions of the people at the seat of government, soon convinced them that their jea- lousies were but too justly founded. They were rendered a little more jealous, by certain measures which followed close on the heels of the proclamation of neutrality. They thought 276 they saw something, which, notwithstanding the fair words of the proclamation, indicated a leaning inconsistent with our profession of impartiality, which could not escape the sagacity of our then enemies, or allies; and which could not fail of ex- citing the suspicion of the latter, in the same de- gree as it required labored explanation to defend it. And it unfortunately turned out, that the very language used to defend the government, in certain cases, on which explanation was required by our allies, served only to sti-engthen their fears, that our professions of attachment were not perfectly sincere. But, what most of all kindled their jealousies, was the ever memorable treaty. The air of mys- tery which, from the beginning, had been spread over the whole of that business, could not fail of making them apprehensive, that something more was intended by government, than what was held out to the nation. They saw the constitution vio- lated, by an extraordinary mission of a public offi- cer of high rank, to a court, where we already had an ambassador fully competent to transact any bu- siness of the nation, and one who stood much higher in the estimation of the people, than the new appointment. When they saw, at length, that the nation had been completely deceived; that it was, in their view, extremely degraded, by a compact with a govern- 277 ment that was laboring to ruin us ; that had joined in base confederacy with the other monarchies of Europe, to subvert the young RepubUc of France, and restore the fallen monarchy ; when they saw that our^ grievance^; were, by that compact, even accumulated, instead of being redressed; and when they further saw several of the most respectable memorials against it, treated with apparent con- tempt, if not resentmeni ; and finally,, when they saw it ratified, against the sense of a large ma- jority of the people, and certainly against the real sense of a majority of the house of representa- tives ; when, I say, the true federalists saw ail these things, it was impossible for them not to be jealous, that some of the wheels of government were out of order. Nor could they think themselves in the least blamable lor the fears and jealousies they enter- tained; being conscious to themselves of a sincere and ardent love for their country; and a love, strengthened by ties, which many of those who have most cruelly traduced them, neither do, nor can feel. And it will be hereafter shewn, that jealousies of public servants are not only innocent in them- selves, but necessary to the very existence of re- publics. A Federalist. May 11, 1798, and 22d-^25d year of the Confede- racy^ which may God preserve^ pure and in- violate, for many years ! vuL. 2. N n 278 % faiv Statement.— No. III. The artificial word, Democrat, has been for some time in fahhi^m, as a term of reproach for tl'iose members of the Democracy wlio entertained j' alousies of administration, and th-aight them- selves entitled to the right of belie vi-g, that several of our late public measvires were impolitic, if not unjust. But, why should the Democrats, so call- ed, be so grie\ously abused for their jealousies and suspicions? They have undoubtedly, the s^me rigit to think and judge fjr themstlves, (n e\-ery public measure, and every piiblic servant, and to express what tlicy think and judge, as any of those who so violently condenni them, and who use the same liberty, in justifying, without qual ficati. n, every stae measure, botli in form and principle. Beside^, these jealousies and suspicions shew, that the people who entertain them are awake, and at- tentive to what concerns themselves and the na- t'o.: and they serve to controul the self-will of jAib- lic servants, by keeping them in mind that they are amenable to those who have taken thtm into ser- vice, and who are to judge whether ihey act well or ill, in tl cir respective stations. And tliey are so f;r from arguing a perverse arid dtgeneriiie temper, unfriendly to tie ends of government, and disposed to find fault, where there are no api-ear- 279 anccs of error; that they rather discover, especial- ly in Democr;icic:'S, a generosity favorable to the common good, and a sensibility that is oiien con- nected with some ol the best qualities of human nature. The Atlienians were, in most respects, as ami- able a people as any upon earth; and yet, there never were so jealous and distrustful a people, with respect to their pubUc characters. "• Tiie people oi^ Athens made good use of the talents of diose who distinguished themselves by their eloquence and prudence: brtt they were full of suspicion, and kept themselves always on their guard, against their bU.;erioriiy of genius and abi- lity: they took pleasure in resirainiiig their C(»ur- age, and lessening tiieir way and reputation. This may be jidgedfrom the ( stracism, v\hich was in- stituted o dy as a cuib of tliose whose merit and popularity ran too high, and winch spared neither the greatest, nor the most worthy persons. The hatred of tyranny and t.ranrs, wliich was, in a manner, innate m the Athenicins, made them ex- trcmel) jealous and apprehensive for their liberty, with regard to those who governel."* I do not jusify every thing which the Athenians did, under t .e excessive impulse of the love of liber- ty: but the principle itself was certainty founded * Rollin's Ancient History. 280 on a just knowledge of human nature, and per- haps mat of their own national character, in par- ticular. And it was undoubtediy, on the same prin- ciple, tliat uur own constitiition has guarded against the abuse of taleiits, popularity, and the engross- ing appetite of ambition, by the frequent change of public servants. This provision is one of the wisest parts of our constitution, and the most eifec- tual check to the views of designing men, wdio would, if possible, rear the fabric of their own in- terest, though the ruins of their country should be the basis. If the Democrats have been jealous, it vv^as not througli choice; for who would wish to make him- self unhappy, and prefer distrust to confidence? Wiiy should we wish to detect errors in govern- ment, if there were no grounds to suspect them? Or, why should we be willing to embarrass public mea- sures, that appeared conducive to the public hap- piness, and consequently our owri? Why should not we love our country, and wish to think well of our servants, and to trust their talents and integri- ty, and preserve our national honor and independ- ence, as much as those who have charged us with the want ol every virtue, and denounced us as un- worthy of the American name, and as enemies to our own government, and to all government, un- der any form whatever? Many (^f us ha\e borne our parts in the war which gained our independ- 281 ence, and possess property, whose value to us and our children depends on the propriety of public measures, and the general prosperity of the na- tion: while many of those who have loaded us with calumny, have done nothing fur the country, either in the field, or in the cabinet; and others, not hav- ing a feather to lose, live only upon prospect, and chirp incessantly to government, like younghngs in the nest, that they may^be fed and fiedg'd, from the treasure of the ncixion. These latter have acted their parts with the more spirit, as they found the song they sung was grateful to the ear of power, and has, in some in- stances, been amply rewarded, by emoluments in the gift of CsEsar, but, at the cost of the nation. But why should not such merit be rewarded, as was solely em.ployed to strengthen the hands of power and persuade the servants of the people to think ill of those who could suppose them capable of do- ing wrong, ehher intentionally, or by mistake? If the Democrats have acted diiTerendy, why have they done so? They are certainly possessed of talents, as capable of versatility as others; they know the straight road to promotion, as well as others; and they are, perhaps, as sensibe as others, to the charms of secretaryships and foreign mis- sions, he. &c. If they have taken a side, in the public opinion; which must unavoidably exclude them from all reasonable hopes of attaining to pub- 282 lie honors and emoluments, they have not acted in the dark: they well knew what they were about. And, I thii:k it is no more than charity demands, to J. resume, tl:at they have as really acted from principle, as others, since the contrary cannot be proved. A Democrat. May 12, 1798 and 22d — 23d of the Democracy. LiOng live tlie Democracy! % fair ;!: tatcmcut— No. I v. When a man has orxe allowed himself to tra- duce his neighbor, it generally happens that he goes on fr. im chnrp^e to charge, till he is fairly spent with his own turmoil, ur has exhausted every re- source uf invective: aiid the farther he is in the wrong the more keen and pertinacious he is to prove it on his ad\ ers iry. So, with respect to ourselves, charge has hem accutnulated upon charge, 'till calumny itself is al- most out of breath, and language can fiurnish no more terms of scurrility and reproach. We have been accused of the grievous crimes of disaffection to government, and hostility to re- ligion; crimes, indeed of \ cry c.ifferent magnitude, but, most probably, in ilie opinion of some of our accusers, much tlie samej or if, in tlien- estimation, 283 there be any difference, no doubt the former is the "[-reater of the two. That we have found fault with several mea- sures of our public servants, we do not deny ; not that we think there are errors in the constitution itself; but; he must be a profound statesman, in- deed, who does not see a very matt-rial difference between being disaffected to administration, and the constitution; and between finding fault with the constitution, and being inimical to our country. It is well known that our constitution was received, in its present form, with much opposition; and it is certain that it would not have been adopted at all, but on the principle that it was subject to re- visal whenever a certain proportion of tiie people should call for it. And m.any of tiiese very men, who are now so generous in tran^fering great pow- ers to the head servant of the nation, were among those who objected to the constitution, because it had put too much witiiin the discretion of a sin- gle man whose real office ought to be merely to ex- ecute the public will. One single step beyond this and his character is changed from that of a servant to a master. Nothing could be a severer invective on our na- tional character, than to suppose we were so totally ignorant of human nature, as to invest any man whatever with the power of doing any thing, in which the interest of the nation was involved, upon 284 his own judgment and discretion. Power is ac- companied with so many charms to flatter self-love, that no degree of virtue that we have ever seen, except in the first Messenger of Christianity, was ever proof against it. And it was certainly too fa- vorable an opinion of our own national character, connected, I allow, with a principle amiable in theory, but never realized in practice, that pre- vailed on the people at large, to take the constitu- tion as it now stands. But we have had, in the short time of trying it, experience enough to evince the necessity of amending, and amending soon t; o, the errors we admitted, through mere charity for human nature: and I am the more easy under our present pros- pects, from the persuasion that they will operate to improve the constitution, and entirely erase from it those articles which have given our servants the powers that, in my opinion, have principally con- tributed to throw us into our present embarrass- ments. To expect, indeed, a perfect constitution, would be to expect something which no trial of human wisdom could justify; though I believe the one we have formed, is attended with as few errors, as any that the world has ever seen: but it has its errors, which must either be corrected, and others will speedily grow out of them, and otiiers again from 285 ^ these, 'till our liberties will be irrecoverably lost, and so oar last state be worse than the first. And it would be equally contrary to all expe* rience, to expect either perfect wisdom, or inte- grity, in those who are employed to transact the national business. Let us suppose them to pos- sess as great talents and virtue, as have ever yet been found in men; unlimited confidence would only serve, first, to tempt them to exceed the powers intrusted to them; and then, involve the nation in trouble and confusion, as it is at this moment. When disaffection arises in popular govern- ments, it must always be presumed that there is, at least, apparent ground for it; for mankind are not disposed to find fault with their own works, nor very apt to complain, if they do not feel them- selves aggrieved: nor is it, by any means, true, that they are generally averse to government, seeing that the most uncultivated nations in the world, have it in one form or another; and, I think there is good reason to believe, that the savage nations, as we are pleased to call them, of North- America, have as perfect a government as our- selves; and a form, I believe, much better suited to the true ends of the social connexion. Allowing, then, that we have neither a perfect constitution, nor perfect men to exercise it, where possibly can be the crime of saying it? Or where VOL. 2. o o 286 can be the crime of even saying, that some late er- rors of our government might have b^en avoided, by men of the most common talents, with a dispo- sition to avoid il em? I shall name two, the British treaty, and the late permission to arm our mer- chantmen. I'housands, .f talents no doubt much inieiior to those possessed by most of our public servants, have pointed out the en or ot both tiiese measures, and expressed their disapprobation by the most forcible language. No DiSORGANlZER. 15^// May, 1798 — JVisdrmi a?}d hitegrity to our ser- vants^ and health and peace to our country ! % fait ^tatcmrnt— No. v. " yudqe not. if ye would not be judged. For, by the judgment that ye judge, ye shall be judged: and by the measure that ye mete, shall measure be made to you again." The Gospel. He that undertakes to accuse another, ought to be pretty cWar in himself, that the accusation cannot jusdy be retorted: for, how contrary soever it be, to the spirit of Christianity, the general cus- to,-n of the world is, agreeably to my motto, to re- turn like f )r like, measure for measure. But how- ever justifiable it might be, in n.e, lo take this ad- vantage, I do not mean to take it. 287 The Devil himself, on an occasion something like the present, had better quarters than our ac- cusers have given us: for, " Michael, the head of the Angels, (probably Christ himself) when de- bating with him, about the body (the laws and con- stitution) of Moses, did not presume to bring against i ,im a railing accuation; bat said — the Lord reb.ike thee.*" The adversary was a great advocate, like Mr. Burke, (not that democrat zEdanusf) for old estab- lis'iments; ai.d was extremrly anxious for the per- manency of the old Jewish constitution; knowing well, that, if that could be kept up, there would be no chance for the progress of Christianity. We, too, are accused of hostility to religion, and inerely because vrc are attached to the French Re- public. To confute this charge, I sliall attempt to shew that there is, probably, as much real re- ligion in France, now, as there was under the pros- trate esiabhshment; that the constitution has done, with respect to religion, precisely what it ought to have done; and, that the said constitution is, in se- veral views, more favorable to Christianity, than any state religion, now existing in Cnristendom. * Jnder If I give vou, now and then, a little divinity, I hope our aealous friench vill like 'ue the beuer. t A respectable and patriotic judge of his Slate, 288 The first proposition can amount only to a probability; the two latter are capable of decisive proof. Under the ecclesiastical establishment there was, indeed, a very precise form of religion, to which the people cheerfully submitted, because they be- lieved it to be their duty, and necessary to their salvation. But, amidst all the parade of forms, it cannot be doubted, that infidelity, in secret, pervad- ed the body of the rulers, both in the civil and ecclesiastical departments; but the body of the peo- ple were really devout, as far as they knew. The writings of Voltaire, d'Alembert, and a few others, had brought infidelity into fashion, among the great; who, though they conformed, for sake of decorum, to the state establishment, yet were, at heart, strongly opposed to Christianity. It may justly be supposed, that the war has occasioned many irregularities, and immoralities, which always attend such a deplorable state of things, by taking ofi those restraints which the op- eration of the laws of the state lays upon the na- tural temper. Of this we have had proof enough, among ourselves, during and for some time after the late war. And the same thing happens every where, and cannot therefore, spring from national character, but the common character of mankind. I believe, however, that notwithstanding such ap- pearances, wars do really produce good effects on 289 the minds of many. The fears and alarms, the confusion and devastation, and the loss of friends, as well as the terrors of death, bring many to se- rious reflection, which probably, in a state of peace, they would not have exercised. If France has a prosfligate soldiery, profligate magistrates, profli- gate philosophers, and profligate directors of the state, they had them b.'fore\ and there is no civilized nation upon earth, that has not men, in every de- partment of society, of profligate principles. If I could bring myself to believe it was not the case among ourselves, I should enjoy the persuasion with singular delight. But, however partial to my countrymen in other respects, as a citizen of the world, and more, as a friend of truth, 1 dare not say that we are better in principle than other people. That the constitution of France has done, with respect to Christianity, precisely what it ought to have done, I have said was capable of decisive proof, and I proceed to maintain it. It has totally abolished the old religious estab- lishment, and left every man to maintain such doctrines, and to practise such modes of worship, as are most agreeable to his own judgement and conscience — a right which is agreeable to the uni- versal sense of mankind, and to the whole tenor of the Gospel, which demands of every man, the care to " search and see," whether the doctrines it 290 proposes, are of God, or not. This most benevo- lent system of truth, asks no faith, and no service, that is not the resuU of persuasion, and of choice. An obedience founded merely on authority, or fear, it neither asks nor can receive. Neither does it any where require the aid of the civil power to enforce its demands, or to procure it respect. Nay, tiie Divine Author of our redemption, of innnilable excellence, and most venerable memory, charges his scholars to ''call nj man upon earth, Rabbi — for there is one (only) who is master, even Christ*." All his invitations and addresses to his hearers, to persuade them to become his scholars, are founded on argument, or rather evidence; and in no single passage of his life, is there any thing like compulsion, to bring converts to his doctrines. No ENoMY to Religiun. \(dth of May ^ 1798, of the Christian era, and may this era soon be adopted by all the fiat ions of the earth ! * Matthew, Chapter 25d. 291 ^ fm J»tatcmciit— No. vi. '> Lord^ wilt thou that we command fire to come down from heaven^ and consume them^^ even as Elius did?''' Luke, 9th ch. Besides, state-religions, under whatever form, are always oppressive to a part of the nation, that is the dissenting part, by excluding them from pub- lic honors and emoluments, and depriving them of certain other advantages, which it is the very de- sign of the social compact to secure. Another evil is, that, by such invidious and unjust distinctions, the nation is divided frum itself, and discord, un- charitableness, and a spirit of persecution, infalli- bly ensue; consequences equally injurious to the present and the future interests of mankind. But, the strongest argument of all is — that every state-religion is an officious, nay, an impious intru- sion on the prerogative of Christ himself;- who, as head of the church, is sole Lord and law-giver over it, and never has authorized, nor ever will authorise, any body of men upon earth, to support his cause, by any other powers than those of con- viction and persuasion. And he knows no more of the king of Britain, as head of the church, nor of the house of spiritual lords, nor of the most re- * The French nation, and their well-wishers every where. 292 verend father in God, his grace archbishop of Canterbury in these characters, than he does of Buonaparte, or the French Directory. The French constitution, then, by restoring to every man the inahenable right of judging for himself, in all matters of religion and leaving Chris- tianity to operate by its own powers only, has been framed wdth profound policy and justice. My third proposition, that the present consti- tution of France is, in some respects, more favor- able to Christianity, than any state-religion now ex- isting, is as capable of proof, as the former. All state-religions have always the effect of impeding the progress of truth, by restraining free enquiry and discussion. Whatever doctrines or modes of worship the civil power has established, are con- sidered ,as the standard, by which all opinions are to be tried; and every deviation from it is condem- ned, as heresy, and the criminal adjudged to suffer such deprivations, and penalty, as the state has annexed to the case. In England, it is in the pow- er of the head of the church, for the lime being, whether king or queen, to forbid the clergy from preaching any particular doctrine that he or she may think proper; or even preaching or publish- ing any thing at all on controverted points. Now, it must be obvious to every man, that this is directly calculated to confine the minds of the peo- ple within one narrow circle of ideas, which may 293 happen to be right or wrong, according to the views of those who estabUsh the national faith. But, Christianity requires that our faith and wor- ship should resuh from our own views, unbiassed by the authority of others, and of all worldly con- siderations whatsoever. Further, state-religions tend to destroy the dig- nity and influence of the sacerdotal character, by making it dependent on the civil powe^*. Every dignified clergyman in England, is as much an offi- cer of the crown, as an admiral, or general, or any other civil or military officer in the kingdom. The king confers on him his commission, and can sus- pended or break him, * whenever he thinks pro- per. And every bishop, by virtue of his episco- pal office, becomes a lord spiritual, and entitled to a seat in the second estate of the nation. But, the clerical office, agreeably to the constitudon of the Gospel, knows nothing of the civil power; but depends solely, either on the special nomination of Christ, which was the case with the Apostles; or on that of the church, which is the case am.onsr ourselves. By this act of violence in the state, the true honor of the spiritual office is lost, in the ex- terior honors of the secular character; and the in- fluence which would naturally attend the former, and is necessary for accomplishing its proper ends, * Except the bishop of Sodor and Man. VOL. 2. P p 294 is prevented by the latter. These political reli- gions serve also to corrupt the clergy, by laying them under a strong temptation to accommodate both their preaching and manners, to tlie taste of the government which supports them. And this is so true, that if you can only know what are the fashionable principles of a court, you may pretty certainly judge what are the principles of tife c ergy who are connected with it; at least of the largest part. And this must ever be expected to be the case; because, the clergy, as men, are subject to the common infirmities of men; and are equally li- able with others, to be tempted with the honors and powers which are offered tliem by the state. This, indeed, ought not to be the case: but it is the case; and we must argue, not on speculation, but on facts. The state- religion, therefore, that lays this temptation, does violence to the Gospel, by bribing its servants, and so far obstructing the great ends intet:ided by the Christian pri sthood. In addition to this, all these establishments hold out strong temptations to men to assume the clerical office, without the qualifications requisite to the duties attending it. This is not the case equally with all of them. But, it is well known that, under that of England, almost any man, if he have gone through a certain course of learning, and can obtain a patron to recommend him, may not only be invested with the office, but rise to the 295 highest rank it admits of. This, it is granted, may be tie case under any constitution of the church. Some, who are too indolent to pursue other occu- pations; others who wish for a station favorable to literary pursuits; and others, tlirough the mere ambition of influence and distinction, may every where, intrude themselves on the sacred office. In this case, the fault lies in themselves alone; but it remains with the church, wliether to take them into office, or not; and the grievance, with respect to the people, is so much the less, as they can re- ceive them, or rt-ject them, at pleasure. This cir- cumstance is the best provision that human affairs will admit of for an honest and faithful ministry; audit is precisely that which the Gospel has made. An Enemy to State-Religions. 17th May, 1798 — Jn end to all State- Religions! 296 $C fair Statement— No. vir. " My hingdom is not of this %vorld.^^ Christ. Another great evil attending these establish- ments is, that the Christian instituti'ons, under their management, become the mere instruments of worldly policy; an object as wide from their true designs, as heaven is from earth. In some instances, this is so grossly the case, that one of the most characteristic ordinances of the Gospel, is made the test of allegiance to the state. Under the English establishment, the most profligate man in the three kingdoms, on receiving a civil or military commission from the crown, is obliged, before he can act upon it, to take the sacrament, upon his knees, in some parish church. And should any conscientious clergyman refuse to give it, in such a case, he would at least be liable to suspension from his office. But, let the case be what it may, in which any doctrine, or office of the gospel, is condemned to be a menial to merely worldly views, it is ntjt only stript of its proper ho- nors, and degraded in the eyes of mankind, but, becomes in the same degree injurious, as it would have proved beneficial, when used according to the views of its benevolent institutor. He himself, with a view to remove all suspicion of aiming at 297 any interference with the rights of Ccesar, or any other secular prince, openly declared, that '' his kingdom was not of this world;" not founded on worldly principles, nor managed by worldly max- ims; but ultimately mtended to perfect mankind, in virtue and happiness, in a better life. To take, in this manner, the peculiars of Christ, and make them the drudges to some of the most corrupt and perverse passions of human nature, is to do him an indignity, which he will certainly resent; and for which, they who are guilty of it, will probably have to give a very serious account. To the evils already mentioned, of state reli- gions, I will add one more, and that is, that tfiey are generally as hostile to civil liberty, as they are to the genius of Christianity. The general reasons of this must be obvious to every body; but I shall mention one, because it is immediately to my pur- pose — it is this, that they take care to secure the influence of the clergy on the side of power; who, be the establishment how oppressive soever, have too much gratitude not to engage in its behalf. When the question of the American war was agitated in the British parliament, there was but one man, who came forward with a true Atlioiian spirit, of all the spiritual lords of the kingdom, to oppose the unrighteous measure of subjugating us, by military power, to the inhabitants of a little island, three thousand miles from* us. That wor- 298 thy man, entitled to perpetual remembrance, was 'Jonathan Shipley^ bishop of St. Asaph, one of the poorest bishopricks in the kingdom. Among others, on the side of oppression, was Lowtli, bishop of London; a man of singul.ir me- rit in sacred literaturcf, a id distinguished for still more excellent qualities than those of a scholar. But, iniiaenced by the blandishments of honor and authority, derived from the state, he, most dishopiorabiy to his character, as a Christian priest, denounced, with all the petulancy of an oiticer of the crovvn, the sacred cause, which, as a Christian minister, lieoag.u to have supported, at the price of lire. But, he was well chastized, in a poem already mentioned*, addressed to himself: " Can flait'r^'s tide Drowi) ihy free spirit, and thy Attic pride ? Is this the man who sjjokt;, in language strong, The praise of liberty's Afhenian bong ? Blest are her notes; but curst the sordid things, That priestcraft offers to the pride of kings. For nevtVy fiever, sliali Juir fretdoni's hund^ Enroll one firdatc in htr aacrcd band. » -Servility's oblivious weed : High in the court's rank soil that creeper winds, And oft with dark embrace the Crosier binds; "While, squecz'd Irom thence, the subtle prelate flings Its luscious po.io J in the car of kings." • No. 1. 299 And so it will ever be, till the generous power of republican governments shall every where dis- solve that unnatural and pernicious combination, which hath so long subsisted, between the church of Christ aad the powers of the v/orld. Then, and not till then, will Christianity display all its true powers, and diffuse over the world all its be- nign effects. Checked by the opposing spirit of monarchies, aristocracies, oligarchies, and the state rel.gioiis connected with them modified and managed, by the partial and ever-erring devi- ces of human wisdom; and compelled to serve the low purposes of the avarice and ambition of civil rulers, it has almost ever appeared distorted and discolored. But, under the operation of a form of government that will leave it to itself, it will re- sume the beauties and vigor of its first estate, and captivate all the nations of the earth, to its embraces. I have dwelt the longer on this subject, for sake of some honest and pious people, who have really been apprehensive for Christianity, on ac- count of the French constitution: which th.ev mis- takenly supposed had quite abolished it, in the nation. But, I hope the short detail 1 have given, may, in some measure, contribute to quiet their fears, and vindicate the republic from the charges of unreasonable men, who cloak their hostility to the nation, under the transparent pretext of zeal 300 for religion. Be it so — they will never obstruct the progress of republicanism, by any efforts they can make, whether open or concealed. It has begun its career, and, by the statute of heaven, it must go on. An Enemy to State-Religions. IS fh Afav, 1798 — May all state'rdigio72S be speedily abolished ! 5C fair Statement— No. viii. «• Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis.^' As the times cJiange^ so do we. I r is a lamentable trait in the character of man- kind, that tl .eir opinions are iTif)re generally deter- mined by circumstances, than the truth of things; and this is most remarkably the case in matters of po- litics and religion. It has long been the univer- sal opinion of the divines of the reformed church, that the power designated in the New Testament, by the '• wicked one," the " man of sin," &c. &c. was the Roman Papacy; and I think there can be little doubt, that this is the true interpretation. But since a republic has been erected at Rome, which is the place where the principal prophecies of the book of the Revelation appear to centre, and the Pope himself cut down to the common stature of men, a quite new, and very different ap plication has been made of those passages. SOI A profound prophet of our own, who has lately made a book at New-York, has found out, after, I suppose long and iJ^r)' hard study ^ that the French nation, and no other, is " that man of sin," who has so long remained undiscovered. It would be a perfect waste of time, to attempt to confute so whimsical and forced an interpretation; but be-- cause the author's scheme has met with approba- tion, and will, no doubt, meet with admirers, wher- ever the present order of things in France is repro- bated; I shall make a remark or two on some quo- tations from it, given in the New- York Diary;* to show how far we are to regard it. First, if the author speaks of " the men of sm, " as the Diary says, he speaks very inaccurately. The words of the Apostle are — " O anthroupos tees amartias — - that man of sin."t Next, he supposes that the French will make a terrible use of the power they have gained, for eighty years to come; soon after which the person- al reign of Christ will commence with great glory: and yet, he supposes that men will grow worse and worse from this time; so that, when " Christ comes, he will hai'dly find faith on the earth." How his reign is to commence with great glory, when there will scarcely be any faith on the earth; the author himself, may be best able to determine. * See the City' Gazette for the 4th instant, t 2 Thess ii. 3. O uios tees apooleias., that son of perdition. '"VOL. 2. (^ q 302 He has also I think, entirely misunderstood the- passage, Luke, xviii. 8. The coming of the son of man, there mentioned, appears particularly to intend the destruction of Jerusalem, and dissolution of the Jewish nation; and I read the passage with the verb j'?;?^/, in the future affirmative, instead of the interrogative, thus — " nevertheless, or yet, when the son of man cometh, he will find faith in the land" of Judea. That is, the severity of the per- secutions which would be raised against his dis- ciples, should not utterly extirpate them; but some would be found maintaining the faith, even in that extreme state of things, when it would be neces- sary to avenge them amply, on their enemies; from which consideration by the beautiful parable of the importunate and persevering widow, he encou- rageth his disciples to persevere in prayer and confidence, till the time of their deliverance. The doctrine of the personal reign of Christ upon earth, though not hinted at, so far as 1 can see, by any passage in the whole of the Scriptures, has long been a stuinbling block, in the way of very pious, but fanciful Christians; and has been always attended with the great inconvenience, of leading the advocates of the said doctrin , to make the Scripture prophecies bend to their own fancy, raiher than to follow their genuine sense, whither- soever it leads. Indeed, when a man has once taken it into his head, to write about the Miilen- 303 nium, whatever honor we ought to give to the goodness of his heart, we are not at all bound to think with equal respect of his head. The most sober divines, and most accomplished scholars, that I have ever met with, acknowledge, that nothing can yet be determined with any certainty, concern- ing those high, but mysterious subjects: and that the Millennium probably means no more than some extraordinary period of the church's pros- perity. However, when a man sits down to interpret the Scripture for others, he is, at least, bound to divest himself, as far as possible, of all prejudice; and to propose nothing with certainty, or confi- dence.- on subjects of acknowledged obscurity, such as most, or many of the prophecies are. This author's scheme, reminds me of a conversation I had, at the North, with an enthusiast, in the year 1783. Conversing on this v-jry subject, he told me, it was his opinion, that he himself and Sir JeSfery A nherst, were the two witnesses, men- tioned in the Revelation: and I think he was quite as near the truth, as our prophet. I have been the more induced to make these observations, from a very serious caution given by Christ himself, to those who are addicted to the humor of interpreting the prophetic parts of the Revelation. " If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that 304 are written in this book; and if any mdn shall take away from the words of the bouk ot this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of tlie book of life, and out of the holy city, and the things which are written in this book." The progress of the French revolution is so unpromising to state-religions, that it cannot fail of raising the bile of all who are interested in their continuance: and 1 am ready to believe that the body of the British prelates, in particular, since the operation lately performed on the vicar of St. Peter, are su-ongly apprehensi\e that a similar chirurgy may shortly be performed on themselves: and, really, I think, they have good ground for such an apprehension. Nine illte lacryma: this it is that makes them weep. It is this, chiefly, that hath so long defeated every attempt of the English dissenters to obtain a little relief from the unrighte- ous grievances under which they labor. And the opposition has been principally made by the clergy of the establishment. Tiiey were apprehensive, that, if the ark were once touched, though it were only with the little finger, it might beoversei, and the sacred treasure it contained, spilled like water on the ground. It was this that so miserably shattered the brains of poor Edmund, and thence brought forth, with infinite anguish of the i)arent, that monstrous birth which alltfie friends of liberty beheld with horror: 303 It soon perished, by its own deformities. AlaSj poor Edmund! And it is this more than any other cause, that hath so sharpened against the infant repubUc of France, the tongues, and pens, and swords of the surrounding despotisms, and drench- ed the soil of Europe with the blood of its inhabi- tantb, and fattened it with their flesh. An Enc-my to State-Religions. May 22, 1798 — No State-religions! % fm Statement— No. ix. '^' When ye shall hear of wars, and rumours of wars, be ye not troubled: for, they must be,'' Christ. War is surely one of the greatest calamities that God ever permitted to fall upon mankind, for the punishment of their sins; and no man pos- sessed of the true sensibilities of humanity, can think of it, without horror. But, like every other evil, it is rather to be estimated by the consequen- ces that result from it, than the sufferings that at- tend it. When the former become more benefi- cial to society, than the previous state of peace, it is a real good ; when they are more injurious, it is a real evil. And this, I think, is the test by which our opinions on the case, are to be determined as just, or the contrary. 306 When there were some grounds to apprehend that we should be driven to war with the British government, for its plunder of our property, im- pressment of our seamen, and various insults of- fered to the neuirahty and honor of our nation, the most lamentable outcries were raised, from one extremity ofiiie unioii to the other; and nothing was then heard of, but devastation, and burning, and blood-^hed, and the waitings of widows, and the tears of orphans. And it was thouglit better to stoop to the dishonor of compacting with the lawless power that oppressed us, than to demand an immediate, and complete redress of our wrongs, though war should be the means of obtaining it. Had we resolutely adopted the measure, our situ- ation, I am persuaded, had, at this moment, been infinitely better, in all respects, than it is, or pro- bably, can be, for years to come. Our now imagi- nary national prosperity had then been real; and our faded honors had yet maintained their native bloom. Then our real fears of an imaginary war, wasted the flesh from our bones, and consumed our sinews, and shrunk us to the thin, unsubstan- tial forms of men; so that ''there was no longer any life remaining in us, and we became as dead men." But now, the mere idea of a war with the French Republic, has rekindled our extinguished life, and reclad our bones with the ruddy flesh of youth, and ton'd our sinews with the strength of 307 manhood ; and rear'd us, in a moment, from pyg- mies of three spans, to the giant stature of GoUah, " whose height was six cubits and a span ;" and covered us with his impenetrable panoply. " And he had an helmet of brass upon his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail ; and the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of brass. And he had greaves of brass upon his legs, and a gor- get of brass between his shoulders.* And the staff of his spear was like a weaver's beam ; and his spear's head weighed six hundred shekels of iron." Thus fortified without, and inspired within, we are provoking our enemy to the conflict ; and, confident of conquest, we are crying to them aloud, " Come to us, and we will give your flesh to the fowls of the air, and the beasts of the field." Already the trumpet hath sounded to the fight; the earth groans beneath the weight of our march- ing armies, whose shouts have pierced the ear of the wide welkin; while our banners stream from St. Mary's to the district of Maine, giving new lustre to the day, and our burnished arms dazzle the strong eye of heaven. Already our brave warriors have conquered, by land ; and thousands of the dastardly foe, to our unspeakable joy, fiercely bite the ground, to " dig themselves dishonorable graves ;" while our * On the forepart of his neck, or throat, to save his wind-pipe: 308 invincible thundering navy has triumphed on the ocean, and the tri-colored flag droops over a thousand decks, beneath the American eagle. Al- ready our ports are choaked with their captured fleets, and our warehouses are glutted with their treasures, and we are saying within ourselves, " what shall we d^, bee luse we have no room where to store up our goods ? This we will do ; we will pull down our barns, and stores, and build greater ; and then we will store up all our fruits, and our goods. And we will, every one of us, say to our soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry ■" This, to our shame, my countrymen, is but a fair paraphrase of the true spirit of many of our public speeches, and some of our late public mea- sures. War, war, is resounded, from the chair of our first servaiit,* down through the different • I have used the term, head servant, not through alTectation of singularity, but, as accordini^ to the crue sense of the consti- tution. I mii^ht have said — '* High on the pinnacle of the dome stands Colun\bia's lavorite son, the effulgent emanation of the people, (if any body upon earth can tell what it means) a faithful mirror, to represent lo every part, the rtttected will of the whole ; as the public organ, to promulgate the concentred vievv- of he na- tion, (an organ to promulgate a concentred \iew !) as the vigiUnt centinel. placed in the highest watch tower, (a sentry box, I suppose, on the summit of the dome) to sound the alarm when danger menaces." Cicero, or Demosthenes, have nothing compa- rable to this. 309 fanks of office, to a thousand little assemblies of the people. And, I blush to ihmk, that the legis- lature of the union, has so far adopted the language of braggadocio, as to outrage every man who con- tends for peace, on honorable terms. Matters, in that body, have come to such a pitch, that he who talks of accommodation, and peace with France, is denounced, and vilified, as a coward, and trai- tor, a friend to France, and an enemy to his coun- try. Even Mr. Dayton, the speaker, has adopted the new style of calumny ; and, though, ex-ofjicio, appointed to maintain order and decorum, in that house, has more egregiously violated it, than any other member. His reply to a late speech of Mr. Gallatin, a speech which would not have disgraced any man in the union, was equally beneath the character of a soldier, and a gentleman : a reply which indicated, in the strongest terms, that Mr. Dayton, however qualified to command at the head of a regiment, or however brave in the attack of an enemy, has not all the integrity, that the place of a Speaker of the House of Representa- tives, requires. A Citizen of the World. 2 4 th Alay, 1798. Health and fraternity ! The author of this burnish, was the first among ourselves, who openea to a friend. Yet, this little circumstance, so inof- fensive in itself, and which was not deserving of the least notice, has caused such a redundancy of bile in our stomachs, tliat nothing but the emetic of war is judged strong enough to evacuate it. But, if sucii trifles are sufficient grounds of war, which one would judge to be the case, from the bustle we have made on the occasion; then we are never to expect peace among the nations of the earth ; be- cause such things may happen among the most peaceable and inoffensive of mankind ; and wars, perpetual wars, are to rage, and desolate the world, till the consummation of time. A Citizen of the World. 25th May, 1798 — Fraternity with all men f ■♦■ 911 fair Statement— No. XI. ^'' TFhen ye shall hearofwars^ and rumours of wars, be ye not troubled : for, they must be.'''' Christ. Our zeal for the progress of republicanism, has subjected us to another very grievous charge of our accusers ; and that is, that we are enemies to the tranquillity of the world, and enjoy the spec- tacle of misery which accompanies revolutions, with calm delight, and exultation. We are not enemies to the tranquillity of the world ; nor do 315 we enjoy any spectacle of misery, in any formjn which It can be presented. Nay, we shudder, with as quick a sensibihty, at the sight of human wretchedness, as any of those who affect to be " trembhngly ahve all over," and yet would preci- pitate their country, into all the horrors of war, without proposing one smgle advantage to indem- nify us for the devastations that must attend it. We sympathize with all our sutfering brethren of humanity, and should rejoice, with unmixed pleasure,to see a perpetual end to every form of hu- man wretchedness. But, as we believe that anuniver- sal revolution in society is necessary, in order to replace it on its primitive foundation, by destroy- ing despotism in every form in which it alHicts hu- manity, we exult in the proi)pect which is now opened, of effecting so desirable and glorioub an. event. Let the affected friends of order, good govern- ment, old establishments, Sic. he. say what they please, on the blessings of tranqviillity and peace, we are bold to say, that war, universal war, for a time, is more desirable than peace with perpetual tyranny, and its attendant miseries. The times, say these men, are portentous, ter- ribly portentous — times, such as the race of men jiath never seen before. But, in what are they portentous? In what are they different from all the past ages of the world, except in this, that they 316 portend the downfall of tyranny, and throw a sable cloud on the prospects of ambition? Has not war raged, in every age of men, since Cain, by the murder of his more righteous brother, first broke the peace of the world, and transmitted his own spirit of maliciousness to successive generations? Are the devastations of war, and the dissolu- tion of empirics, and the overthrow of nations, no- vehies in the records of mankind? What age, that has not been ingulphed in oblivion, is without its mouments of erased cides, and desolated contries? And on what inhabited part of the earth does the sun look, without witnessing the instruments of human carnage and destruction? Where has not the earth trembled, under the shouting of contend- ing armies and drunk in the blood of thousands, slain by the sword of war? Where have not ty- rants been plucked from their thrones, and nobles stript of their honors, and either blended with the common mass of mankind, or dispatched to the tribunal of eternal justice, to stand trial for their enormities and oppressions? What has become of the great monarchies of the East, which made theworld tremble at their nod; the Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian, Median, Egyp- tian, and the all-sovereign empire of Ron)e? They are certainly fallen — but, how did they fall? Have they mouldered away under the slow-eating can- ker of time; or been arrested by the violent, and 317 devastating arm of war? By the destroying arm of war. And to this day, through the whole extent of their once wide and boasted territories, monu- ments remain, of the hands by which they have fallen, never to rise again. And yet, we woader, even to stupefaction, to hear of " wars, and rumours of wars;" as if they were novelties in the world, and heaven and earth were astonished at such portents. We seem to realize, in the warmth of our im- aginations, those dreadful times when " the Sun shall be darkened, and the Moon shall not give her light, and the Stars of Heaven shall fall, and the powers of Heaven shall be shaken." But, what is the difference between the present times, and the past? The difference is obvious, and is the true reason of all the lamentation, and wail- ing, and woe, which we now hear from so many quarters. Formerly, the desolating wars of the earth were managed by a few, for the mere pur- poses of ambition, and avarice, against the mass of mankind. Now, the wars of Europe are con- ducted by the people, against opposing tyrants, a few kings, and ^queens, and emperors, the enemies of the repose and rights of the long oppressed and despised commonalty. This is the only difference, between the for- mer and the present times ; and this alone is the cause of all the outcries which have been raised VOL. 2, s s 318 in Europe, and among ourselves, against the I'rtnch revolution, and those which have iollow- ed it. In my next number it will be shewn, that no event of extensive importance to S(^ciety hath ever taken place, without great and terrible temporary convulsions, and calamities. A Citizen of the World. May 26, ]798 — The universal righta oj men! % iraitr Statement.— No. >.ll. I proceed to shew, that, no event of considera- ble iniportance to society, hath ever been efii cted, without great concomitant calamities ; and this seems to be an established order of that Provi- dence which manageth, with unerring wisdom, the whole scries of iuim an things. And tlie fc;l- lowing facts, it is presumed, will evince the truth of the assertion. When the first race of mankind had arrived to that state of wickedness, that '* tht- earth was cor- rupt before God, and violence, that is, tyranny, filled the earth ;" in order effectually to d stroy it for that time, it pleased God, to extirpate, by an in- undation, all the inhabitants, except eight persons, who were preserved, with a view of continuing the human race, witliout another creation. The ca- lamities attending that memorable event, must have 319 been as ji^^'eat as we can possibly conceive, particu- 1: riy, if we suppose that the world was then, as popul HIS as it is at present ; which, it has heen conjectured by some, was really the case. The im- portance Oi" t'.iis revolution, however terrible in itself, no doubt, consisted in the destruction of an abandoned race of men, who, had they been pcr- nuited to continue, v/ould, probably, have trans- nutted their enormities to succeeding generations; arid entailed on posterity, vices and calamities, much greater than their utter extirpation. The release of the Israelites from Egypt, is another event which strongly marks the doctrine I nave proposed. The family ot Jacob, in consi- deration of the great benefits which had been ren- dered to the Lgyptians, by Joseph, had been in- vited to settle m that country, in the most fertile part of It, and promised by the king, all the .privi- leges and immunities Oi iiee citizens. In process ot time, however, tneir great population, and pros- perity, stimulated the envy and fears t>f a succeed- ing king, Palmenothes, wlio loaded them with every practicable grievance; and proceeded, at length, with a view effectually to extirpate them, to drown all their males as fast as they were born. This was a most grievous cruelty in itself, and a violation of an express and solemn stipulation. In process of time, when God had determined to re- lease them from tiie cruellies laey endured, Moses 320 and Aaron were sent, to demand, in the name of Jehovah, their dehverance. Ten most grievous plagues were sent upon the nation, before the obstinate king would con- sent to their departure. At length, v,hen the first-born of man and beast were, in one nighi, destroyed through the land, the Israelites were importuned to depart, with all haste — which they immediately did, en- riched wilh the goods of their oppressors.* But, scarcely had they taken tiieir departure, when the perfidious monarch, grieved at the loss of so many useful subjects, and chagrined at hav- ing been compelled to release them, collected the whole force of Egypt, chariots and horsemen, and pursued them, determined utterly to destroy them, or to force them back again to bondage. About ninety miles from the place of their de- parture, while entangled by the Western gulph of the Red Sea on their left, by the Arabian moun- tain on their right, and the inundation or inlet of PihaLirothf in their front, the rear of the Israelites beheld their pursuers. • With respect to this fact, it has been frequently alledgcd, against the Israelites, that they deceived the Eg>plians, by pretend- ing to borrow, what ihey never intended lo restore. But, the truth is, that they did not borrow at all; but demanded a reoonjpcnse, which was justly due to them, tor the trials and hardships they had sustained : and the Egypiians were glad to get clear of them, on jiny terms. t Stoma Eirooth. 321 In this drea^-ful dilemma, the whole line* was commanded to face to the left, while the water parting, opened them a passage, through which they marched dry-shod to the opposite shore; from whence they beheld their blinded pursuers over^ whelmed, to a man, by the hostile waves. Never, since the all-destroying deluge, had any nation of men, experienced such destructive, and appropriate calamities, as the Egyptians, from their waters turned into blood, till the utter destruction of the whole military force of the kingdom. Of this last event, it is worthy of remark, that travel- lers find, to this day, the tradition of this circum- stance among the inhabitants of the place where it happened. Connected with this event, in the series of their history, is the entrance of the Israelites into C'a- naan. This country was called the Land of Pro- mise, not only because it had been promised by God to the descendants of Abraham ; f but, pro- bably, as in an original survey given to Noah, it had been particularly allotted to this branch of his family. That this was really the case, 1 think is strongly probable, from the following words of * The roen marched five in a rank, and the line of march must ' therefore have been very long t Though Abraham, on his call from his native country, lived in Canaan, he had no possessions there, but whai he purchased ; not even so much land as he could cover Avith the soal of his foot- Acts Tli, 5. 322 Moses to them, in his last address: " When the Most iiigh divided to the nations their inheritance; when lie separated the sons of Adam; he set the bounds of the people, according to the number of the children of Israel." — Deut. xxxii, 8. The Canaanites, therefore, were usurpers ; and this, probably, was the cause of the conster- nation which seized them, when they found the Israelites were approaching. A Citizen of tfie World. May, 1798 — Peace to the whole earth! % fair Statement— No. xil. APPENDIX— PART I. To jfohn Adams, Chief Servant'^' of the United ^States of /imcrica. SIR, While your integrity and self-command are standing the severest trial, by multiplied addresses from your countrymen, permit an individual to speak to you, who is equally incapable of flattering, of envying or of injuring you 1 am a native of America, and b.>re a part in the trials winch purchased our independance, and •" Ye knovv that the princes of the Gt-ntiles exercise dominion over ihem, and ilicy that .ire great extrcise authoii.y over them. But, it shall nol be so among >ou: bui whusoevcr vsouid be great among you, Ici him be your scrvan'; and whosoever would be chief among you, Iti him be your servant — ihe servant of all." Chkist; S23 have raised you to the dignified station where you now staticl. Bearing no office under government and perfectly unambitious of political honors, my time is pleasantly employed in the culture of the earth, the best offices of humanity, and ihe cahn pursu ts of literature and science. Notwithstanding this privacy of my condition, I take a deep concern in all the revolutions of the great world, and feel myself particularly interested in those of them, which involve the interests of the country, to which, both by the ties of nativity, and the stronger ties of political opinion, I am firmly and forever bound. You came Sir, to the arduous office which you now bear, under almost balancing advantages and inconveniences. You come to it with all the ad- vaiitages of acknowledged talents, firmness, and patriotism. But, you also came to it, under the suspicion of political opinions not perfectly repub- can; of a predilection for excutive powers, stron- ger than could comport with a democratic constitu- tion; and of attachments to a foreign court, which your countrymen were apprehensive might en- tangle you, and the nation you have the honor to serve, in schemes of policy disconnected with our real interest. With myself, sir, your private opinions, whatever they might be, were of no weight; while I considered, that not these, but the constitution of the nation, was to be your guide, in 324 all your official measures; and especially, while I persuaded myself, that you felt the authority of morality and of conscience, too strongly, to suffer, in any instance, your own judgment or will, to dictate your course of action. By the error of your predecessor, to use a phrase of one of your inferior fellow-servants, you found tliC state vessel, " thrown up into the wind," and entangled with shoals, and sharp pointed rocks, on every quarter. And 1 have often thought with admiration, on the courage which could press you, through such vissible embarrassments, to take the helm, which had been abandoned, perhaps, thro' foresight of the storm. I have been in pain, sir, for your situation, in other respects. Your sensibility as a man, your sense of honor as a gentlemen, and the dignity of your office, must all have been extremely wound- ed, by the torrent of abuse, swelled by a thousand tributary rivulets from every part of the union, which has poured from the capital, on a large and meritorious body of the nation. Has it not, sir, filled you with anguish, and indignation, to hear our fellow-citizens calumniated from a press under your very eye; a press set up by British influence, managed by a British subject, of tuu profligate and contemptible a character, e en to be named by a true American; and supplied with the materials of calumny on their ieilow-citizens, by men support- 325 £cl m the legislature of the union, to maintain the honor of the nation? Have you not seen, sir, with astonishment, as able and virtuous men as any in the nation, denounced from the chair of the house of representatives, in a manner most audacious and indecorous? You must already, sir, be sick at the mention of these things; and 1 will not revive } our anguish, by going through a long detail of our na- tional errors. But, one thing more, I cannot for- bear to mention, however pamful and distressing it may be to your feelings — 1 lament, sir, that you have thought yourself obliged to countenance, in any degree, the military ardour so suddenly and unaccountably kindled, in the nation. That the French Republic, our ally, to which, notwithstanding, 1 profess mjse)^ firmly attached, hath done us wrongs, exceeding wrongs, I acknowledge with vexation. But, sir, can you, in your conscience, believe, that these wrongs can be redressed by a declaration of v/ar, on our part? Can yc;u believe, that invectives from the national legislature, and from almost every part of the re- public, are calculated to reconcile our allies, or to force them to negociation ? Does it not pain you, sir, to see the precipitancy with which we are grasp- ing arms, to court a distant war to erect its stand- ard on our shores, and to break our first design of m lintaining peace and amity with a republic, erected on the basis of a just equality, and on VOL. 2. T t 326 whose friendship we had stronji^ly relied, for sup* port against the hostile, and ail-devourmg ambition of European monarchies ? Can you, beheve, sir, for only a single mo- ment, that an indignity offered to our eiwoys, can be a sufficient reason for involving the naiion in the complicated cahimitics of war ; or that those most worthy men, who have acted so manly, so prudent, and so dignified a part, in circumstances tlie most delicate and embarrassed, would have the m.ost distant desire that their countrymen should avenge the indignities they have suffered, at so high a price ? No, sir, yuu cannot believe it, for a single moment. I will conclude this first address, by assuring you of the great pleasure I have enjoyed, from reading your instructions to those gentlemen, on deputing tbem to the French Republic. Most heartily could I wish that your official character were vindicated to all your countrymen, in all other respects, as much to your own honor, and their satisfaction. And, that you may be able to do this, at a future day, is the unfeigned wish of one who truly respects you fjr your pers >nal ac- complishments, and honors you more, fur tiie dig- nity of your office. A Republican. May 30, 1798 — Immortality to the Envoys^ and the virtuous minority in Congress! 327 % fait Statement— No. xil. APPENDIX— PART II. 'To John Adams, Chief Servant of the United States of America. SIR, In my former address, I paid you a tribute of honor, to which I thouglu you justly entitled ; and ! shall always rejoice in every opportunity of applauding you, when it can be done, with fidelity and truth; and I v/ould fiiin persuade myself, tb.at the dignity of your seiuiments would reject with indignation, every offering made to you, with- out the "unleavened bread of sincerity." 1 am bincerely pleased, that aiioiher opportu- nity of commending you, presents itself to me, this very moment. In your reply to the address from the inhabitants of the town of Providence, in tae state of Rhode-island, near the close of it, you say,* "I agree entirely with you, in acquit- ting, in general, those of our citizens Vvdio have too much attacned themselves to European politics, of any treacherous defection, from the cause of their ctauitry." How much, sir, do 1 feel obliged to you, for myself, and thousands of my worthy fel- low-citizens, for a sentiment so liberal, and gene- rous? Most certainly, yourself and the inhabitants of the little town of Providence, in the little state * City Gazette for May 15, 1798. 328 of Rhode-Island, " who have been your friends and neighbors, from your youth," have been most gracious in acquitting us of "a treacherous defec- tion from the cause of our country." By what motives, 1 beseech } ou, sir, could we be induced to entertain any treacheruus designs against uur country ? Leaving, without any far- ther notice, the people of Rhode-Island, disdaining to bring to your remembrance, the conduct of this patriotic state, at the establishment of our present Constitution, I speak to you alone. By what fatality, sir, liath it happened, that your own hand hath insidiously robbed you of the glory of one little sentence ? That you have be- trayed all your partialities, and disclosed inconsis- tencies in your sentiments — partialities and incon- sistencies perfectly in hostility against that self- p')ized dignity which your office peremptorily de- mands, 1 have seen with unfeigned regret. And, I shall now, to do yourself and the nation justice, ..analyze that extraordinary answer, and comment upon it, " vvdth all the malice of a friend." You say, second paragraph of the answer — "I wjll not distinguish between the views of the go- vernm' nts and those of the nations; if, in France they are different, the nation, whose right it is, will soon show that they are so: if, in America, they are the same, tliib fact will be shewn by the nation in a short time, in,^;SU;ong light." OJ 329 By this unfortunate sentence, sir, you have liglned up a torcli, which, to every sound and heahhfal eye, hath disclosed tlie very secrets of your heart. You have uncovered the sore made in your fl:.\sh, by a sentiment uttered to a former ambassador in France, that could not certainly have affected any man, wliose sensibility was not awakened by the pride of ofnce. Whether the na- tion of France is in opposition to its government, could never be questioned by any man who did not see the affairs of that people through an in- verted optic. Is it possible, sir, you can suppose, in any hour of calm consideration, that, when the nation is covered with the glory, and enriclied with the spoils of its conquests, the government should be m.ore obnoxious to the people, than when its stability was threatened by surrounding nations, and still more endangered by the intrigues of the friends of tlie old establishment ? Let m.e ask you, sir, how the republic hath supported its armies, and extended its territory, and compelled so many of its enemies into terms of peace, in every in- stance to hs own advantage? Will you condescend to inform us, when it will be made apparent that the nation and government are opposite powers ; and v/hen the glorious day will arrive, when tlie dep;rrted Louis will revive from the dead, and re- sume the dominion and dignities which, by his own haughtiness and obstinacy, the almost inse- S30 perable concomitants of power, were wrested from his reluctant hands ? With w!iatever premeditation you constructed this unfortunate sentence, you have most obvious- ly insinuated against the goxernment ot Franct- , iliC very sentiment which, in fact I have just aikided to, hath so deeply wounded your own sensibihty; and perhaps, more than any other cause, hadi push- ed forward the nation, to the steep precipice, on which it now stands. How far you may hereafter have reason to boast of the present ardur uf the people, to support the measures that you yourself have principally originated, time, which not sel- dom developes events extremely different from our foresight, will enable you to judge. For my own part, I behold it with deep regret; and judge it far from improbability, that you may see cause to wish, for your own honor, and the good of the na- tion, that you had been less successful in gaining it to your side. It so seldom happens that violent measures, suddenly adopted, will stand the lest of a calm review, that 1 am truly surprized at the confidence )'ou seem to place in so fluctuaiing a thing as popular opinion. With sincere wishes for your own happiness, and with stronger f.;r that of the nation, 1 am, sir, respecifully, your fellow-ciiizen. A Republican. June J, 1798. 331 % fait Statement.— No. xir. APPENDIX— PART III. To John Adams., Chief Servant of the United States of America, " Audi ct alteram partem." £ee/i the other ear olien. SIR, I am so unaccustomed to speak to great men, that 1 am strongly sensible of the disadvantages under which my addresses must appear, particu- larly to yourself. But, integrity shall supply the defects of pi'liture; and, as your fellow-citizen, and contributing my just part to the treasure of the nation, from which you are recompensed for your services, I demand of you a patient and impartial hearing. I would not obscure one ray of that lustre which should ever beam from the dignified station where you stand; nor would I blight one leaf of that laurel, which now vegetates on your brow, by the invigorating air of popular applause. Soon, too soon for your feelings, it will wither of itself; and the refreshing gale which now wafts you so pleasantly along, wall soon languish into a dead, dead calm, that will afford you sufficient lei- sure, soberly to review the impetuous measures which are distracting, through the long line of the union, our now ill-fated country. In my last address, I took the liberty of making a short comment on a passage in your extraordina- ry answer to the people of Providence; and bound myseii', bv a voluntary promise, to analyze such other pans of it as should appear to me most favo- rable to the end for whicli I approach you. I shall discuss your sentiments with perfect freedom; al- ways, however, with all that respect, if possible, wiiich your office demands; but tlic tribiue is to the office itSi'lf, and not to you. You say, in paragraph third of your reply"--Thc ill success of those proofs winch the Uuued States have given to pieserve all {cm, I suppose) impartial neutrality, and of their repeated negociations for a redress of wrongs, has demonstrated, that other means must be resorted to, in order to obtain it." Is it possible, sir, you could have w.-ighed the contents of this sentence before you v/r>te it down ? Have you maturely in- vestigated the means by v/hich we can compel Fr;ui e to redress (air wrongs, provided she should not be disposed to do it of her own accord ? Have you contemplated the equipment of a navy, suffici- ent to pursue them on the high seas, and, by cap- tures in every channel of their cominerce, to repay ourselves f jr our plundered property ? Ov^ is it your design, when the martial ardour of the nation shall be kindled to the highest, to transport across the Atlantic, an army of our young men and bo) s, formidable enough to plain, on the shoves of France, the American standard ; and, within her own territory, to light her iiUo measures oi justice? 333 Or, perhaps, as still more plausible, you have reckoned on foreign aid. And was it for this pur^^x)se, that you dispatched an ambassador to Prussia, where we have just as much occasion for one to reside, as in Lapland, or Otaheite ? Or, what' may be with you the most favorite scheme of all, you have perhaps relied on the aid of Bri- tain. We all know the generosity and philan- thropic views of the British government. We know that it enlisted, as a volunteer, against France, on the most pure and disinterested princi- ples, merely to maintain the cause of morality and religion, against a nation of infidels, and a little ta prop up the interests of declining monarchy. But, as charity begins at home, and Britain seems, at present, to have as much business of her own upon hand, as she can well manage, we can look for no assistance now. However, should she be able to settle her accounts handsomely with France, what shall then remain of her wealth and force, we may hope she will promptly transfer to our use, out of pure love to our democratic constitution. To be serious, sir, when you wrote that strange sentence, had you distinctly in your eye^ one single measure that you could rely upon, for compelling France to redress our wrongs? If you know of any such means, it is high time they should not only be defined with precision, but be coming forward with energy, into operation. VOL. 2. u u 534 Had you said, should France refuse to negocl- ate with us an amicable accommodation, and, to the additional wrongs already done us, should add the violence of invading our country, we must re- solutely resort to the painful, but justifiable means of defending it to the last extremity, every man would have clearly understood you ; and pardon me for saying, that, u appears to me, you would better have understood yourself — and I will add, that there are few men in the union, who would not heartily have joined you. But, when you hint, in such vague and general terms, at forcible means to redress our wrongs, you only perplex and embarrass us with endless conjecture, and alarm us with apprehensions, without pointing at the means of quieting them. Let me beseech you, sir, for your own honor, and more for the honor of the nation, as well as out of tenderness to the fearful part of your fellow- citizens, that, when you come forward with more answers to more patriotic addresses, you would study a little more perspicuity and accuracy in your composition, that you may be the better un- derstood. For my own part, I think I generally understand you a little too dearly^ for the entire re- pose of my own mind; and this, because I love my country, and am, from invariable sentiment, A Democrat. 6 th yunc, 1 7 98 — Health and peace to all good Democrats ! S35 % fait Statement— No. xiii. •• ir/ien ye shall hear of wars, and rumours oj wars, be ye not troubled : for, they must be,'' The land of Canaan was exceedingly popu- lous, and governed by diirty-one kings, wiio, per- haps, were radier the presidents, or chief counsel- lors of the people they ruled, than masters. Yet, the Israelites were expressly commanded to de- stroy them utterly ; and this, under the most se- vere anathemas against themselves, if they failed to execute the divine decrt^e. Humanity cannot but shudder at this event ; but the statutes of God are right, and we are bound to reverence them, how far soever above our coinprehension. Voltaire and Shaftsbary, writers equally shal- low and presumptuous, have unued tiieir ridicule against Moses and Joshua, for this affair; but their characters are as invulnerable by the shafts thrown by such paralytic hands, as the whole of their conduct, in their respective offices, was strongly marked witii great fidelity, and mani- fested that they did not act on the common rules of human prudence; but, were directed by the ex- press commands of God. This consideration might, of itself, be sufficient to satisfy all our difficulties, and stifle every suggestion that mignt arise in oar minds, against the equity, and benevolence of the procedure against the Egyptians and Canaanites. But I will here advance the argument on which I have always most relied, and which I think is de- cisive, on the case. The family of Abraham had been selected from the mass of idolatry, to be the depositaries, and guardians, of the primitive truths of religion, in which the happiness of all mankind Tvas dee(Jy interested ; but which, in successive generations, from Noah, had been almost totally extinguished. During the continuance of this people in Egypt, they had nearly lost the doc- trines communicated to the pattern* of the faith- ful, in the superstitions and idolatries of the country. In pursuance of his most benevolent design, of transmitting to future generations, by this peo- ple, the salutary truths respecting the redemption of the world, God, who perfectly comprehends, and always consults, the measures best adapted to the happiness of his creation, saw it to be a pro- per time to remove the Israelites to a situation, which was not only their allotted inheritance, but the best adapted to keep them from the danger of solicitations to idolatry .f * In reference to his extraordinary faith, in the afiair of Isaac. t I recommend to such of my readers, who feci any interest in this important subject, to read the Jtivn* letters to FoUaire—Si per- formance of great and singular merit. 537 Idolatry, In every instance, is the crime of high treason against the "king of kings;" and on this account alone, the ('anaanites had forfeited their right to life, and all its advantages; and God, who alone was to judge of the punishment proper for their crimes, had the right of appointing, as the ministers of his justice, the Israelites, or any other nation that he should choose. Had the Canaanites voluntarily removed, and given peaceable possession to the Israelites, of the land originally laid out for them, there can be no doubt that they would have gone off, with all their possessions, without molestation. But, they were determined to maintain by force, the land they had occupied by usurpation, and the consequence was, that they suffered extermination. There is one most plecising fact in this history, which is greatly to the honor of Joshua, and the other princes of the people. The Hivites, who inhabited four considerable cities in the land, hear- ing that victory and destruction every where at- tended the Israelites, in order to save themselves, fell upon a most ingenious stratagem, which, how- ever, succeeded only by the dint of falsehood on their part. Two or three days after, when the people found they had been deluded iato a league, contrary to the express command of God, they were immediately for destroying the Hivites. '• But all the princes said to all the congregation, we have 338 sworn unto thefn by the Lord God of Israel ; now, therefore, we may not touch them." They accordingly spared them ; but, for their deception, condemned them to be menials, through their suc- ceeding generations.* This fact most clearly shews, that the Israelites were by no means, that ferocious and sanguinary peo:;le, which many idle writers have auempted to make them out. Here, then, is another great revolution, in its connexion with others that have followed, of great and universal import to mankind, effected with great concomitant calamities ; but, calamities that bear no proportion to the moral good that hath id- timately resulted from them. And, if I can exe- cute my aim, the same thing will be made appa- rent, in those which remain to be mentioned. A ClilZLN OF THE WoRLD. ^th Jiine^ 1798. [No. XIV, BY SOME ACCIDENT, WAS LOST— ^o/ros.] % fair Statement— No. XV, " JFJien ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars be ye not troubled: for they must be-''' Christ. The next great revolution of extensive import to society, was the subversion of the Roman em- pire. This unwieldy fabric had been reared on * See Joshua, Chapter 9, where the whole affair is related in the most agreeable and entertaining manner. 339 the ruins of many of the finest countries, and most brave and independent nations of the world. From a false and pernicious patriotism, at first, and afterwards from the passion for riches, the Romans deemed themselves entitled to extend their conquests and domination, wherever their arms were capable of securing these objects. De- spising the rest of mankind, and considering them- selves as formed to be the masters of the world, they set no limits to their ambition; but resolutely engaged in every measure, whether of violence, or fraud, that piomised to gratify it. Persevering on these principles, they had, at len^jth subjugated to their tyranny, and embraced within their territory, a large proportion of the in- habited globe; till satiated with the glory of con- quest, and enriched with the spoils of the con- quered, they thought the stability of their empire secure; and that nothing remained, but to enjoy in luxury, what they had gained by rapine. From the period of the commonwealth, the princ iples of decay and dissolution, inherent in its construction, began to operate with power; their wisest maxims of policy fell into disuse; their mar- tial courage and hardihood sunk into effeminacy ; while maxims and measures of injustice pervaded every department of office, from the capital to the remotest provmce of the empire, and the hour of their irrecoverable ruin hastened, with a rapidity 540 far greater than that with which they had advanc- ed to the summh of their strength and glory. Having triumphed over the hberties and hap- piness of the rest of mankind, they were, in their turn, to experience a similar, nay, a more terrible fate. From various parts uf Germany, where their arms had not reached; from the Northern parts of Europe, and Northwestern tracts of Asia, a multitude of people of differeni tribes and lan- guages, brave, accustomed to hardships, and intent upon plunder, poured, in successive torrents, upon the empire with such irresistible impetuosity, that within two centuries after their first inroads, that immense power, the work of so many ages, was overthrown with irretrievable ruin. So terrible was the desolation which accompained these re- publican invaders, the avengers of the cruelties and tyranny of the Romans, that the finest parts of Europe were changed into dreary desaris, without cities, without villages, without tillage, and almost without inhabitants. " If a man, says Robertson,* were called to fix upon the period, in the history of the world, daring which the condition of the human race was most calamitous and afflicted, he would without hesitation name that which elapsed from the death of Theodosius the Great (a. d. 395) to the establishment of the Lombards in Italy," (a. d. 571). * Charles V. 341 This catastrophe of the Roman empire may, in part, be considered, as a just retribution, for the enormities perpetrated by that ferocious people, on so many distant, unoffending nations ; who, though destitute of the arts wliich civiHze and im- prove society, were happy in their native independ- ence, and that firmness of constitution, and temper, which reconciled them, from infancy, to every hardship. Besides, which is a stronger consideration, the interests of society required, that a domination ex- tended on so broad a basis, and which depressed humanity to the most abject and pitiable condition, should not only be reduced within narrower limits, but erased to its very foundation It would, ap- parently, have been impossible for the most pro- found and refined policy to have reduced into one common and uniform mass, capable of enjoying, to any tolerable degree, the advantages of the social compact, so many heterogeneous materials, as the people who composed the Roman empire, after it had i-eached its utmost limits. The longer they had subsisted in one community, the more wretch- ed, in all probabihty, they must have become; till the noblest powers of humanity had sunk into a state of rudeness, and imbeciUty, from which ages of cultivation might, have been requisite to recover them. VOL. 2. XX 342 It is true, the immediate consequences of this revolution on the state of Europe were deplorable in die extreme; and it was not till late in the ele- venth century, that it began to exhibit a state of society, indicative of the advantages resulting from breaking an immense empire of despotism into a variety of states and kingdoms, more favorable to the intellect, the moral principle, and the manners of n.ankind The last revolution to be now mentioned, as produclve of considerable advantages to society, is the Reformation. The papal usurpation had taken its rise from so small a beginning, as the annexation of precedency, in the assemblies of the clergy, to the bishop of Rome, as capital of the empire, and tiie most distinguished city in which Christianity had obtained a footing. In a. d. 606, he became universal Bishop of the church, and in 756, a civil prince; from which time, his claims both in eccle- siastical and civil affairs were gradually increased, a^'d his dignities and powers augmented, till he had reared and establislicd a domination, to which there has been nothing similar in the history of the world; and than which there never was a com- pleter triumph over the ignorance and credulity of mankind, or a more violent and impious intrusion on the prerogative of Christ, as sole legislator, judge, and head of the church: alike hostile to the Tights of the church, as Christians, and as men, 34.S to the spirit of Christianity, and the repose of civil society. With an ambition and avarice equally insatiable, it persevered in a systematic plan of reducing under its subjection, all the kingdoms of the world to which its power was capable of reach- ing. It assumed, with the pretensions to infal- ibiiity, the authority of controling the decisions of councils, fhe edicts of kings, the dictates of con- science, and the sense of Scripture. Maintaining the splendor and luxury of royalty, it imposed on the laity, watchings, and fastings, and a variety of other penances not authorized by tfiC Gospel, and serving only to subject the hoodwinked commonal- ty the more completely to its degrading dv^mination. With audacity against heaven, and hustilitv against virtue and human happiness, it authoriz- ed, by a formal indulgance, and at a fixed price, the Commission of every crime to which depravity could stuTiulate the human heart. In short, this power, whicii was limited only by impossibilities, had not only a pnrt in most of the wars which ra- vaged Europe, for several centuries, but was it- Sf^lf the moving and directing principle Vidiich ori- ginated and continued them. The first considerable check to these anti-chris- tian usurpations, was by the intrepid liUther, who did more towards the liberation of the human mind from the fetters of a cruel tyranny, than could have been expected from any single man. Having 344 to oppose the united obstacles of ignorance, credu- lity, and superstition, of ecclesiastical and civil power, it is much more wonderful that he effect- ed what he did, than that he did not effect more. The light he struck out had to struggle thro' op- posing clouds of obscurity, before it could com- municate its heakhiul influence to the world; but, though its progress hath been slow, it has, at lengdi, spread into a wide and cheering day. As might have been expected, so it turned out that, with all the advantages of the Reformation, there were also consequent inconveniences. The civil wars which were quickly kindled in Germany; the extravagant and disgraceful licen- tiousness into which many of the protestants ran, on finding themselves released from their chains; and thebarbarous anddesolating persecutions which were raised againbt them, and carried on, for a long succession of years, almost in every part of Europe, were evils that followed the reformation; but which chiefly arose from the remaining spirit, and C'pposiiion, of that tyranny through which it had brcjken. Yet, had they been much greater than tliey were, it would be easy to shew, that they would be far overbalanced, by the advantages to literature and science, to Christian knowledge and morality, and to religious and civil liberty, which have ultimately resulted from that revolution. 345 In the facts which have been recited, it would have been useless to have attempted a minute de- tail of their respective benefits and inconveniences to society. The great events of the world have generally been effected by such a combination of causes and operations, and productive of such a variety of effects, that the most laborious investi- gation can mark, with precision, only a few of the more obvious and prominent; and it is only by its most general and permanent consequences, that any particular event can be determined, as mainly good, or evil. The result of the preceding recital is — 1. That there is a certain uniformity in the procedure of human affairs, which indicates certain principles common to all mankind, as well as the operation of laws instituted by a supreme intelli- gence, by which all events are so managed, as ultimately to effect the benefit of the system in which they take place. By the assurance of this last truth we become easily reconciled to many things in the disposition of the world, which we cannot well understand; and are enabled, amidst the greatest tumults and commotions of society, to form a general judgment of their tendency and termination. This is a light in the midst of dark- ness, which, if it does not distinctly show us the surrounding objects, serves to quiet our fears, and guide us in the path we wish to pursue. 346 2. From the preceding recital, it results also, that the great object of the divine dispensations, to mankind, hath been, in every age of the vi^orld, the amelioration of society. The process towards this end, it is granted, hath been apparently slow; the bulk of men hath been in every age destitute of the means best adapted to this purpose; and where these means have been in operation, many obsta- jcles have occurred to prevent their producing their full effects. These circumstances, though diffi- culties beyond the power of human solution, do not, in the least, obviate the truth of the general observation. Though the best means of improv- ing mankind have never been in universal, they havr, notwithstanding, been ahvays in partial ope- ration: while a general darkness hath covered the face of the earth, some places have been sufficient- ly illumined for all the purposes of human happi- ness. 3. If the observations already made, be just, we are still to look for the progression of human affairs towards the highest state of improvement of which they are capable. It must be evident to the most superficial observation, that the most ad- vanced state of cultivation to which any nation tliat we are acquainted with hath yet arrived, is far short of that which is indicated by the strength of human genius, and which seems necessary for perfecting that order already noticed. I am far 347 from agreeing with Mr. Hume, in the extensive sense which the words will admit of, that "• there is an ukimate point of depression, as well as of exaltation, from which human affairs naturally re- turn, in a contrary progress and beyond which they seldom pass either in their advancement or decline."* We have indeed, seen both individu- als, and nations of mankind, apparently in the low- est state of depression to which they could be re- duced; but, I know not that we have ever seen either the one or the other in possession of all the advantages requisite to raise it to the ultimate at- tainable point of elevation. To enter into a minute detail of the obstacles which have stood in the way towards this point, is not necessary to my present purpose; it is sufficient to enumerate the principal and more obvious of them: and this will be attempted in my succeeding number. A Citizen of the World. July 5, 1798. * History of England. 348 THE SERVILITY or PREJUDICE DISPLATED. JVUMBER J. Messieurs Freveau & Paine, The jocose toast-maker in your Gazette of the 3d instant, who has done so much honor to his Britannic Majesty^ and expressed so benevolent a wish for the prolongation of his inestimable life, has undesignedly become the founder of a series of political productions, as cirioasin thenselves, as they are novel for your paper. By this time, 1 dare say, he is much surprized at the comprehensive- ness of his genius, wiiichcoald condense so great a quantity of heterogeneous matier, into the limits of one short sentence. Surely, the toast- maker is the most prolific gjnius that has ever appeared in public ; and it is to him alo le that we are in- debted for the inestimable work of your now cor- 349 respondent, the Vindicator^ who has no claim in the busii>ess, to any other merit, than that of ex- pounding, and sifting, and acting as ob^tetrix, on the pregnant tjast, t j dehver it of the vast pro- geny it coiitains, e!\ough to people a whole region, nay, a great part of che globe ; for your Vindica- tor has found in it something applicable, not only to America, and England, but to every country where the arms of France have extended, and wherever they shall be extended, ad injinitum. This great philosopher lias evidently taken up the principle of some of the old great philosophers, that '• all things are contained in one," — that is to say, that a handFal of earth contains in it the whole system of the elements ; and that a skilful alchymist, with a proper apparatus, may extract from it, tin, brass, copper, iron, silver, gold, and every tiling else, good and bad. More than this, that, considering the docility, and ductility, and malleability, and expansibility of matter, you might extend the smallest particle of it, say a grain of sand or a mote of dust, to the outermost circle of the material system. In this, there is nothing at all more mysterious than in the celebrated position of Archimedes, "give me a place to stand upcm, and I will lift the whole earth." This small toast is the very punctum, or fundamentum, or fulcrum, or whatever else you may please to call it, on which this admirable mathemaucian, and pohti- VOL. 2. Y V 350 cian, and logician, Fi}idicator,-h^s woved 2i great part oi" the inhcibitecl earth. Should he proceed a little farther in the apphcation of his irresistible powers, I am terribly alarmed for the consequence. We may next expect him to shake the new republic of Egypt ; thence, I suppose he will follow the Trench arms through all Turkey ; thence, to the East-Indies ; and so on, in a regular progression, till he shall have shaken the whole earth, as a fig- tree with ripe fruit, and sent us all off to look tor a place of more stability, in some unpeopled planet of the system. All this may appear quite incredible to a great part of your readers ; but this is merely owing to their ignorance of the vast powers of me- chanism and chymistry, and their not being accus- tomed to read the productions of this sagacious and mighty analyser, who has now, for the first time, by picking up your Gazette, merely by acci- ch/ni, obliged us Vv^ith the efforts of his ail-descrip- tive genius. First, I a little wonder that he has pitched on your paper as the medium of conv'^eying his pro- found lucubrations to the public : not being a sub- scriber, as he is careful to niform us, he was un- der no (obligation to confer on your paper, and the customary readers of it, the inestimable favor of tliis elaborate work. There were other papers more congenial with his opinions, and of much 551 more respectnbility in the opinion of writers of his rank and character, and much more in need of matter, who would no doubt have considered his performance as quite an acquisition^ and wiiose subscribers would have thought tiiemselves much more obliged to him, than the majority cf your's will be apt to do. The true explanation of the business is tliis : He well knew, though no subscriber, that your paper is generally as correct, as well furnished with entertaining and useful matter, and as exten- sively circulated, as any other in the union : and j idging that his performance would be as highly estimated by a m ijority of tlie people through the states, as by himself, he righdy preferred your gazette, as better adapted to his benevolent views, than any other. His other views in giving you the preference, shall be noticed hereafter ; and will equally serve to unfold the true spirit and principles by which he is governed. I liope you v/ill pardon me the liberty I have taken, in attempting to vindicate your excellent paper, against his pitiful insinuations. No greater proof can ever be desired, by men of candor, of the perfect impartiality of your press, than the pre- ference he has given to it, to circulate his undi- gested and most prejudiced performance. It is not unusual, that a circumstance apparently very 552 trifling in itself, becomes a clue to lead through all the intricacies of character and system. From the twu sentences I shall next mention, I ctjuld cer- tainly discover tlie whole scope of this writer, as well as if he were to write a folio for the purpose, CoLUMBIAMUS. May 16, 1799. €6e ^erbilitp of prejudice viTJi^pIatJcD— No. ir. The Vindicator says. No. II. " And is it " possible, that when these are the views, and " these the exertions of Great-Britain, in vindica- " tion of religion, of morals, and of social order, *' that persjns should be found, who would pub- " lish the sentiment which appeared in this paper " at your instance and request?" The thread- bave and ridiculous sentimient about the exertions of Great-Britain in vindication of religion, morals, &c. in her pres. nt contest with France. 1 shall duly honor at a proper time. My observanons at present, relate merely to yourselves. With what sense of honor or decorum, 1 would ask any man upon earth of the least sensibility, could a writer, who, in the very first sentence of his publication, declares himself no subsciber to your paper, ask you to prim a performance written with a view to depreciate your character as printers, aiid to reflect 353 upon the whole of your readers who have not adopted the system of politics to which he is so servilely attached? Truly, a man who would thus undertake to dictate to you, in your office of con- ductors of a press, what you are to publish, and what not, must not only be very devoid of that delicacy Vv^hich is generally the attendant of a mind improved by true science, but must also be pos- sessed of a most untoward opinion of his own con- sequence. Besides, the confinement under which a press must lie, agreeable to the suggestion of this very consequential writer, would, in a great measure, deprive us of its principal advantages, the oppor- tunity of knowing all that can be offered on the different sides of every public question, and con- tested subject. By free discussion, the minds of individuals become enlightened by the truth, and the public opinion, on subjects of public impor- tance, has the best chanpe of being rightly deter- mined. Whereas, by limiting tlie press to publi- cations of a particular description, and subjecting it to the controul of a few men, who would set themselves up for delators on subjects of public disquisition, the most depressing tyraiuiy would become established, and the most important lights of science obstructed and stifled. The other sentence on this subject, which of- fers itself for a remark or two, is this : " i dwell on this topic, (we shall see what it is hereafter) merely to shew lo the subscribers of this paper, vviio are not in the habit of having before them, newspaper communications of this nature," b.c. Sec. It is very true, that the subscribers to your paper are not in the habit of having before them cummunica- tions of this sort ; and I dare say, there are rn'any of them who do not in the least regret, ti^.at this is the case; nay, had it been so, that s ;nie other press had been honored as the medium of diis communi- cation, I am persuaded they would not have missed a single sentence of information of real im- portance to our present circumstances. But., though your press has seldom communi- cated to the public, the political opinions of Plndi- cator^ orofoiher writers who have taken the same ground with him, the fault, if a fault it be, has cer- tainly not been on your side. It is greatly to your honor that you have, so far as I have seen, rigidly adi;ered to the motto of youi paper, and in this line, I hope you will steadily persevere : the con- sequence of which v^ill certainly be, that, while others, who have acted on dirterent principles, must inevitably sink, as the tide of popular opinion turns, you will secure the approbation and support of the candid, and ingenuous of all parties. One principal reason of the high offence which Vindicator has taken at the toast, is, that he consi- 355 ders it as an insult to his Britannic majesty.* For my own part, 1 consider it much rather as a jest, at the same time it evidently shews the author's sense of the part which his Britannic majesty has taken in t'lie war against the French repubUc, Tiiat it should be so unpardonable an olience against his majesty's kniglu, fur an American to pass a good humoured jest upon him, seems a lit- tle unreasonable ; particularly as his majesty is very well accustomed to bear them from his own subjects, who, one would suppose, are much less entitled to the right of using such a freedom with him, than a foreigner, who stands in no other rela-* tion to him than that of a mere man. The follow- ing, 1 think, couches in it a much severer senti- ment than the toast itself, and is said to be from a member of his own parliament^ — Hawkesbury " From G- , my strain begins, whose actions bold Shall fill eacti ear, wherever they are told : From G-- — , compassion's meek and t^enlle heir, Whose Sheep and Subjects are his equal care.'*t It is somewhat extraordinary, and argues a little partiality, tJiat the choler of Vindicator should be so exceedingly raised against the toast, for jo- cosely ascribing lo his Britannic majesty, the ho- nor of founding the American republic, when he * No. II. 2d paragraph, t The Stieatham Album, or ministerial amusements, ascribed to Mr. Sheridan. 256 himself has done it very seriously, and pursued ail elaborate train of argument to prove it. "That his Britannic mii.jesty, as sovereign and chief ma- gistrate of the kingdom of Great Britain, was in one sense, founder oF t' e American republic, is true." Yes, certainly it is true, in tlie same sense that the tyrants of Aliens founded the polished colony of Marseilles ; that Philip II. founded the United Provinces ; and Albert I founded the re- public of Switzerland. Who can doubt of the high honor to which these disinterested sovereigns were respectively entitled, for compelling so many of their subjects to relinquish their jurisdictions, and set up independent governmenis of their own ? From tliis h(;peful beginning of his majesty, who has already done more for republicanism, than all the other raonarchs of Europe put together, we may reasonably expect, that in the course of a very few years, he will more than double the honor he has already acquired. For my own part, judging of the future by the past, and reasoning from ex- isting principles and facts, I think it not at all im- probable, considering his age, that he may yet live very near long enough, to be the founder of tvo other republics a litUe nigher hira: I mean, one in Ireland, and the other in Great-Brhain itself. He may then retire from the world in peace, leaving behind him " monuments more permanent than brass." Columbianus. 357 €Be f'erbtlitjj of g)rejutiice, ^i^planet^— No. ilh The arguments by which Vindicator has proved his Britannic majesty to be the founder of the American repubhc, are precisely such as might be expected for so extraordinary a position^ of which the following are the most prominent and cogent in the series :-— '' The independence of America was foreseen and predicted by many per- sons in Great-Britain, as soon as there appeared to exist in the cabinet of that country, a desire and wish to make the colonies contribute by taxation to her revenues. The proposition therefore, as soon as it was made known^ occasioned, as was expected, serious cause of alarm to the well wish- ers of both countries. While the colonists were outrageous at the folly of the proposition^ to tax them without their consent, or without having a voice in the British legislature, there were not wanting characters m that august assembly, to ad- vocate the rights of the colonies. Never were the different parts of any subject discussed with more warmth, vehemence, ability and feeling. And thus the government, betwixt the supposed neces- sity of enforcing plans which were to augment it& exchequer on the one side, and the dread picture of alarm pourtrayed on the other, preferred the former, and accordingly Great-Britain found her- VOL. 2. z z 358 self enga'^ed in a war with her colonies." The strtsb oi this pan oi liie arguniciit, seems to lie entirely here — that after the government had for- mally declared war against America, Great-Britain, to her utter astonishment, found herself engaged in a war with us. ^'Unfortunately its annals, (the history of man- kind) fariiisii too many examples of this deplora- ble disposition in governments to hearken to mea- sures," (their own measures) " not founded on the welfare of the people." But even in couritries which have either boasted of, or been blessed with sorr.e degree of freedom, examples of this dispo- sition in governments have n"t been wanting. It seldom, however, procf eded from a determination to sacrifice the public weal, or make it subservient to private or ambitious views j^- but most gene- rally from that error of judgment, and mistaken policy, which as often perhaps creeps into the cabinet of states, as it attaches itself to private life and conduct. t '• In order to do this," (to be prepared against invasion) " she, (Great-Britain) has been con- * The vhole series of history proves the very reverse cf this observation. t rhi'> is a most candid interpretation of the most opj-rcssive measures, tha' may be adopied bv pubhc rulers. The most perfect caidf^r will make ns cautious never to sscvibe them to unv other tause than an innocent error oi" jucltjnieni, and a liiile mistaken l-'olicy. 359 Strained, at particular times, to keep up and main- tain great and expensive armaments. Tliese ar- maments laid the fouiidaiion of heavy taxes : and thus originated in part, the desire to make the co- lonies contribute to the security of the mother country." " American taxation was, in fact, a creature of his, (the Earl of Bate's) own creation. Having the tutelage and guardianship of a youne: ^'^^- narch. he found, it seems, no difficulty in import- ing to the cabinet and council, principles which he designed for his pupil. And it was in the midst of a weakness,* as unaccountable as it was mis- chievous, and against the clamors of the Lnglish nation, tliat the court of Great- Britain received, (from itself) and adopted a policy, which cool re- flection would have condemned,! and which at length plunged her into that war with her colo- * Yes, but it was the weakness oF injustice, the want of moral principle — " That whatever spurious pretences were ofiered, they were ull hollow^ and that to g;.t a larger fiel.i on wluch to fiUten a herd of wonhless ])arasiies, was all that was intended '* Dr. JP'othergiW s letter to Dr. Frunklin. Ka/nsay's American Revolution) Vol. J. Lord Mansfi' id declared — *' That the ques'.ion of original right and wrong were no longer to be considered ; and ihal the justice of the cansK must give way to iheir present -ilualion." — Idem. This was ih^- decision ot" the oracle of Engiish law. t Thisapolog. may be equally used in behalf of every infractioo of moral principles. Certainly, Vindicator was not aware of the consequences of his remark. 560 nies, which she shortly after experienced." — No. I. from paragraph 5, ad finem. Therefore his Britannic majesty was founder of the American republic. Q«or/ ernt demo7istran- diim. Five le Roi de V Uigleterre ! Having thus estabhshed a truth, in which Vin- dicator seems to have been much interested, and in which he has labored cum multo sudore^ 1 shall now proceed to notice some other tilings in his admu-able vindication, of equal importance v^ith the preceding, and supported by reasoning equally conclusive and convincing. By the way, I ob- serve that he has made much use of a mode of lo- gic which a Grecian would call xhttupos ccntilogias : that is, a way of argumentation by which you con- fute yourself, or prove the very contrary of what you intend to prove. Jn this, there is one great advantage, when dexterously managed, that you are almost sure of the truth, either in the proposi- tion, or the conclusion of the arguments to main- tain it. Speaking of French influence, he says, '• and which, were your sentiments to prevail, would shordy lay the foundation of a republic of French modelling and construction in the continent of America." Again, " these opinions, (the supposed opini- ons of the toast) if generally adopted, would tend to the subversion of that good understanding 361 which at present so happily subsists between Great-Britain and this country. This is the very desideratum in the pohcy of a certain party in this country, wickedly intent on the preservation of any system of pohtics vvhich may disarm the govern- ment of its security and energy." Again, " nay more ; it, (the present constitu- tion) has enabled this people, amidst traitors and incendiaries, and the designs of a vile French fac- tion," &c. &c. No. II. My first remarks on the sentiments contained in these passages, is, that they are perfectly wor- thy of Porcupine himself ; and their author, judg- ing from them, one of the fittest men in the union, for acting as coadjutor with him in the base busi- ness of calumniating a large proportion of the citi- zens of these states, merely for the purpose of car- rying on the views of a pernicious and profligate policy : for assuredly, that is such, which requires the aid of falsehood and injustice to support it. Men whose views are upright, and deserving of success, can never be under the necessity of sacri- ficing the rights and happiness of others, to gain their point. No circumstances of individuals, or even the largest community, can ever justify the violation of the eternal laws and principles of moral obligation. For, if we could suppose a single case, in vv^hich, on Lord Mansfield's principles, the ques- tions of right and wrong ought not to be consi- 362 dered, and in which justice ought to give way to circumstances, we may suppose a secund, and a third, and a thousand ; till at last there will be no standard of moral conduct left, but evej^ man be at liberty to act just as he may please, and the di- vine constitution be subverted by the dictates of human depravity. Tnis is a senous subject, and shall be seriously discussed. COLUMBIANUS. €{)e §>tt\y\\it^ of prcjutiice ^i^plaj,icti— No. IV. *' The tendeiicv of the soul towards the muhcions. springs ft cm "self-love, or a pleasure to find mankind more wicked, base, or" un- *'forluuate, than ourselves." Art of Political Lying. Evh-R Since the commencement of our unfor- tunate contest With the French republic, every practicable expedient has been strenuously applied, to^xtinguish every spark of attachment to the go- vernment, tlie constitution, and the nation : and had truth, honor, and justice been alone employed for the purpose, there had been less ground of exception against the measure. At the same time, to foment hatred against any nation upon earth, as an integral part of the human race, and civil sociefy, is, in my opinion, as inconsistent with the laws of benevolence, humanity, and justice, as lor one individual to cherish the same passion towards another. S65 Supposing the administration of the French government to be entirely as bad, as we, and the British government, and all other governments of Europe, which have combined against it, have re- presented it ; there can be no sufficient reason for continually heaping upon the nation^ with ail the industry of enmity, the most bitter and provoking reproaches — reproaches which certainly do them no harm ; but serve to widen the breach which has already been made, and to render a reconcilia- tion, and friendly intercourse, more difficult and improbable. They are also a proof of great weak- ness, while they never redress wrongs. That the government has departed from the principles of the constitution, there can be no doubt ; but what is that to us, any more than as some particular acts of it have violated the treaty we had made with them, during the old govern- ment, and infringed our rights, as a neutral nation, in their war with the governments that aimed to overthrow the republic, and replace, in its stead, the subverted monarchy ? The British govern- ment has, in innumerable histances, departed from the principles of the constitution, and been guilty of acts of excessive cruelty and tyranny, over its own subjects ; and also violated our rights, as a neutral natiun, and the treaty lately made with it, though, in general, much more to their advantage, than to ours. But, as the acts of go- 364 veriiments are very often entirely against the sense of a large proportion of the nations they govern, it is great injustice to charge to the account of a nation, the follies and excesses of the government it is under. For my own part, thougli I entertain a great dislike to the British government, I re- spect the nation, as I do others ; and can always find a pleasure in commending any thing that is praise-worthy in it, as readily as in any other. But, I confess that 1 feel no such filial veneration for it, as the mother country, as Vindicator seems to feel, as often as he speaks of it. 1 have long since outgrown such baby aifectioh ; and think, and speak, of this dear mother, as though I stood in no tenderer relation to her, than to any other mother country in the world. But, to return. It has been our policy to say every thing against the French nation that could be said, and much more than could be justified, on any principle of honor, or decency ; in order, as far as possible, to destroy that attachment we had conceived for it, both on account of the servi- ces it had rendered us in gaining our own indepen- dence, and the republican principles it had adopted, on changing its form of government. Such an attachment was both natural and com- mendable ; it was equally founded on gratitude and interest ; on gratitude for services received ; and on interest, as it seemed to afford a security w 365 to our new government, against the enmity which might naturally be expected from the monarchies of Europe, and from that of Britain, in particular. It was an aifeciion of generosity and dignity ; and it was sincere and strong, in proportion to the strength and purity of our patriotism; to our at- tachment to the principles of tlie revolution, and the constitution we adopted for our own govern- ment : aad, when it was at the highest, I am per- fectly persuaded, with the best of wishes for the prosp<;rity of the French republic, it combined as zealous a regard to the independence, and various interests of our own country, and a complete and perpetual exemption from all foreign influence and jurisdiction, as ever actuated a nation. This, however, was the case wuh those only who were hearty friends to the revokition, and i'vora princi- ple, preferred the republican form of government to any other. There were very many among us, and there still are, who earnesdy wished the re-establishment of the old one : or, at least, such a connexion with the British government, as might, in some measure, subject us to its influence and controul : and }'et these very persons, usque ad Jioiniuem^ since the moment of our breach with France, have most loudly vociferated the excel- lence of uur constitution, tlie prosperity of our country, the extreme danger and mischiefs of fo- reign influence, and the necessity and justice of VOL. 2, . A 3 -* f 566 the most exceptionable and unconstitutional mea- sures that have taken place in the course of our government. To this I will add, that, should effective measures be adopted for a reconciliation with France, and a renewal of friendly intercourse, many of them will be the first and most vehement to declaim against them. That this is highly probable, may be fairly concluded from what has happened, since the late nomination of envoys to the republic. Some pre- tended to doubt the truth of it, and declared it was impossible ; but, should it really be true, that the President would instantly, and deservedly, lose all his old friends ; that is, every man whose friend- ship was worth having. The result of this, is too well known. With a view to reconcile the people of these states to two things — the British treaty, and a for- mal rupture with France, certain measures were adopted, against which great complaint and oppo- sition was made, both in congress, and out of it. But, as these measures, with a majority, were too favorable to be relinquished, it was deemed expe- dient to effect them on any terms : and the deter- mination to do this, made it necessary to come to another determination, which was, to represent the opposition, in every shape, as arising from a criminal and treacherous attachment to France ; and this brings us fully into the business before us. COLUMBIANUS. 367 ^CJe ^etbtKitp of J^rcjutiice, ^^t^plapeU— No. V. From the time that the debates began on the measures to be pursued towards France, every ef- fort has been made, that could be made, to fix the stigma of French influence, French faction, sedi- tion, treachery and conspiracy against the govern- ment, on every man in the union, who wished to avoid, as long as possible, every measure that might have a tendency to involve us in a war with that nation, and preclude all hope of an amicable accommodation. Never was a point pressed with more assiduity and eagerness, nor aided by artifi- ces less worthy of a civilized and enlightened na- tion ; or more destructive of that sense of moral obligation, which all men, and especially citizens of the same community, owe to one another. It has been represented as an article of patriotism and virtue, nay, of religion itself, to combine with the charge of treason against the nation, the charges of the more egregious crimes of hostility to social and moral order; of designs to overthrow every principal of morality, and to loosen every restraint on human depravity. The men who have advo- cated measures of peace, and laboured, as they believed, to maintain the constitution inviolate, in every extremity, have been accused of approving of all the excesses of the French government and .-368 nation, and even of conspiring with them against the very essence of Christianity. In short, there has no Ciime been committed against humanity, justice, or religion, either in France, or the vari- ous phices where its arms and conquests have reached, to which these unoffending men have not been charged as accessories. And what renders this conduct the more offen- sive and condemnabie is, that the recited accusa- tions have not been laid against obscure and unin- fluential individuals only; but against men of the most conspicuous character, the most distinguish- ed talents, and the most unquestionable patriotism. In both houses of congress, every member in the minority, in every degree of respectability and me- rit, has been defamed, not only as the enemy of our own government and nation, but uf all regular governments, and of all mankind. Even the Vice- President of the States, Mr. Jefferson, a man con- fessedly among the first in the nation, for well-cul- tivated literature and philosophy, for a large fund of political information, and, in the opinion of every unprejudiced manj who is acquainted with his po- litical conduct, both before and since the establish- ment of our independence, of the most fervent and invariable patriotism: he has not only been sub- jected to the common calumny, but been placed at the head of the supposed conspirators against their country. 369 With respect to this gentleman, in particular, one would necessarily conclude, considering the various services he has rendered his country, and his high rank in the national government, that nothing short of the most clear and indubitable proofs, ought to have involved him in the accusa- tion of crimes of so atrocious a nature, as I have mentioned: " but unfortunately, his merit had " turned the eyes of many of his countrymen upon '' him to fill a great oifice, and that merit must be " some way diminished."* This brings me to observe, that it would be im- possible for the most candid man in the world, who was not acquainted with the causes which have originated this abominable and cruel business of defamation, to entertain the smallest doubt that at least the greatest part of the preceding charges have been grounded on facts sufficiently ascer- tained for legal prosecution and conviction. If there be really such a faction, and conspiracy, in the bosom of our country, and the conspirators be known to government itself, why have not pro- * Judge Pendleton of Virj^inia — See his statement in ihe City Gazette, June 19, 1799. As I shall have occasion to quote a sen- tence or two more from this important publication, I think it proper to mention, for sake of those who do not know his character, that he is universally esteemed in Virginia, as an able politician, an up- right judge, and an excellent man in private ^life. And I earn- estly wish his statement were known to every man in the union ca- pable of judging of it. 370 per steps been taken to secure these egregious of- fenders, and convict them of the high crimes and misdemeanors they are charged with, that they may be made to suffer the just punishment of their iniquities? But so far is this from being the case, that notwithstanding the charges are still industri- ously and confidently repeated, till the public ear is almost deafened with hearing them, there has not yet been a single instance of treason, nor any thing like it, detected. Last year, indeed, a worthy member of our own, iiiformed the house of representatives, that he had in his hands a clue, by which, he pledged himself to the house, that he would detect a vile and dangerous conspiracy: but, though he may still be in possession of the clue, the conspiracy I believe, still remains in statu quo^ and so will re- main forever. In order, however, a little to save his credit, and the credit of those who had associated with him, in this patriotic business, as w^ell as to give some colour to the charges of treason, that en- grossed the public attention, a memorial was brought forward, stated to have been presented to the French directory, by a Dr. Logan, a citizen of Pennsylvania, who had then lately returned from France. This gentleman, it was confidently giveti out, had been sent to France, as the agent of the " vile French faction" in America, to con- 371 cert measures with the dh^ectory, about carrying mto effect the views of the said taction. The scru- tiny into this affair was carried on with extreme vehemence, and it was represented, would termi- nate in a complete triumph over the faction: but, after it had cost the nation a pretty round sum of dollars, and consumed a great deal of important time, it came out that the memorial was neither presented nor written by Dr. Logan: that he had gone to France without even a letter of recommen- dation from any body, merely " on his own views, for his o%vn pleasure, and at his own expense." The measure which succeeded diis treason af- fair, was as extraordinary, as perhaps any thing on record in any nation. The following remarks of that venerable man* already mentioned, com- pletely accounts, in my opinion, for the whole of this scandal: — " I have ever considered the charge " as having no other foundation, than their patri- " otic endeavors to preserve a constitutional and " economical administration of government; to pro- " mote peace and free commerce with all foreign " nations, but to have no political collection with " a7ty; and in consequence, having opposed all *' measures which they judged to be unconstitu- *' tional, or inexpedient. If they were mistaken, " they had merit in their motive; but I feel too * Judge Pendleton, " On a French faction." 372 *' strongly the effects of the measures they oppos- " ed, to doubt of the wisdom of their opposition." COLUMBIANUS. €l)e ^crbilitiJ of prcjutiicc ^i^plapcti— No. vi. *' Many men have been capable of doing a wise thing, more a cun- ning thing, but very tew a generous thing." Swift. To Vindicator^ SIR, The manner in which you have attacked an innocent and good-humoured toast, for such it real- ly appears to me, after all that you have said of it, and the obvious designsof your labored vindication, have induced me to submit to the trouble of com- menting on some particular part of it * In doing this, I have several views, which will gradually be unfolded as I adtance in examining your perform- ance. The design of this address to yourself is, to draw your attention to some things which re- gard the temper with which you have written, and * The toast, under the vehement operation of your analysis, has several times reminded me of the loaf which lord Peter served up to his brothers Martin and Jjck: ♦' Bread, (says he) dear brothers, is the staff' of lifi;; in which bread is contaiu'jd, the quintessence of beef, mutton, veal, venison, partridge, plumb-pudding and custard: and to render all complete, there is intermingled a due ijuaulity of vater, whose crudities are also corrected by yeast or barm; through which means it l)ecom"S a wholesome fermented liquor, diffused through the m:issof the breud." Talc of a Tuh» 375 which seems quite to have escaped your own ob- servation. This you cannot take amiss, if you reflect a Uttle on the Hberty you had taken with those whose supposed sentiments you so violent- ly condemn, and the great difficuhy there is in forming a just and impartial judgment of the prin- ciples and motives of our own conduct. To a person of so cultivated a mind, as you would give the readers of this paper to understand you are, we ought to suppose that no branch of knowledge can be so estimable, as that of yourself: and that you cannot otherwise than take in good part every attempt to rectify your mistakes, and even acknow- ledge it as one of the best and most important of- fices of friendship. You set out with professing, that you " hope to be governed with all the temper and modera- tion of which a free discussion of the subject is capable." I have no right to question the since- rity of your profession; but, that you have not been master enough of yourself to adhere to your resolution, is evident, beyond all doubt, from the following instances, in which I think you have ma- nifested a very great want of moderation and good temper. The first of these instances, is your indirect reflection on the editors of this paper. You ask if it be possible that persons could be found who , would publish the sentiment contained in the VOL. 3. 3 b 374 toast?* Certainly; the fact more than proves the the thing to be possible ;, and your question was needless. But, you would thereby give us to un- derstand that the toast is of so indecorous and cri- minal a nature, tliat it ought not to be supposed there are any men so destitute of principle and sen- timent as to give it to the world. This is the very mildest interpretation your question will admit of. Had you discharged your spleen against them from any other press, I question whether there are ten men in the city who would not have con- demned the proceeding: but, purposely to prefer their own press, to fix on them the stigma of dis- honor, is something so extremely indelicate and illiberal, that, make what pretensions you please to mi7id and worth, and refinement, and moderation , and good temper, &C. &c. we have just reason to dispute them all. Men so useful to the commu- nity, and who, with immense risk and expense, and unintermitted labor, daily contribute to our instruc- tion and amusement, ought to have been sheltered from the shafts you so wrat/ifully discharge at the toaster and his associates. But we have been so long accustomed to this kind of liberality and moderation, from the system ol politics you so zea- lously vindicate, that we now consider it as hav- • Where I do not quote you vcrhaiim, I sliall endeavor faith- fully to give your sense. 575 ing established a legal claim to precedency, in the liberal and refijied occupation of calumny. Before I proceed to the strongest proof you have exhibited of an entire want of that ynodera- tion you had hoped to observe, throughout your vindication, I shall take notice of one, which, tho' of no great importance in itself, serves to shew the extreme lengths to which men may be carried in controversy, by the force of prejudice and dislike to opposition. After making much parade with Montesquieu and De Lolme, you say — " To you " and your bottle colleagues, I do not recommend " the works of great men: for it is impossible that " men entertaining the political sentiments which " it will appear you do, can have a taste that way." Had you even chosen to recommend any favo- rite authors of your own, especially on political subjects, and those in particular which occupy the day, I am persuaded your recommendation, with true republicans, would have had very little weight. The positive manner in which you have ex- pressed yourself, " it is impossible," I have ob- served, to be very seldom used by men honestly searching after the truth, and who know how much easier it is to assert the absurdity, or falseness of an adversary's opinion, than prove it to be so. Your positiveness, indeed, proves your high opi- nion of your own sentiments, and your low opinion of others; but has not the least force to determine o/o the truth of the one, or the error of the other. It may gain to your side the ignorant and unthinking; but will never convince men of sense and enquiry. It has the advantage of being the easiest and most compendious mode of argumentation, and often succeeds in bearing down truth and maintaining falsehood; but it ever suggests the necessity of great caution in assenting to it, whether it ap- proves, or condemns, affirms, or denies. Is it possible that yoii^ who have so great a taste for the writings of great men, and who, we ought to suppose, are not ignorant of any of them, can otherwise than know, how common it has al- w^ays been, in national debates on politics, for those of one party to charge the other with igno- rance, absurdity, and bad principles, not with the least justice attributable to them? To mention no other writings, Swift's Conduct of the Allies^ and the Examiner.^ productions of that nation '* whence we have derived our manners," might have taught you that no men have gone to greater lengths, in defaming their antagonists, than those who have been the loudest declaimers for monarchs and mo- narchies, and corrupt administrations. With this remark, I conclude for the present, being with due consideration, your's, Columbian us. * Lord Bolingbroke; Dr. Atterbary, bislinp of Rochester, and Prior, thf poet, were concerned in it; but Swift was the principal in Uie work. 877 Cl&e .^erbilitp of ^rejubice 5^i^plapeij— No. Vli. To Vindicator^ SIR, If those who arc so familiar with the writings of great men, as you are, have not so far profited by them, as to know how to practise the duties of benevolence, candor and justice, towards others, in all circumstances, they have read to very little purpose. The practical knowledge of these vir- tues, however defective the possessor may be in intellectual refinement, is infinitely more orna- mental, and useful, than any mere theory of sci- ence, which talents and industry may acquire : the former springs from the heart ; the latter is merely a notion of the head. As I am unacquainted, for aught I know, with the toaster and his associates, I am unquali- fied to judge of their particular accomplishments ; but, one thing I can be bold in affirming, that their preference of republican governments, to any others, and their wish for their universal establish- ment, are no proofs of their want of taste, or goodness. Tou^ certainly, cannot be ignorant, that three of the greatest men who have wntten on this subject, 1 mean Sidney^ Price and Priestley, have not only maintained the same sentiments, but have labored, in the very bosom of monarchy, to 378 recommend them to the world : and to their writ- ings we are much indebted for the constitution we have adopted How far you may allow them to be men of taste, 1 am no ways concerned to know, hav- ing already some secret suspicions about your own. From tnis I pass to something much more seri- ous and important, both with respect to yourself, the gentiemeii you attack, and the nation: with respect t > yourself, as it involves the question of your hunestjj and justice ; with respect to the toast, as it implicates the patriotism of those who gave and repealed it; and with respect to the nation, as it affects the common interest in several ways. You have charged a large number of your fellow-cuizeus with being guilty of sentiments that tend to prostrate the intere->ts and government of their countrv, to the influence of France. You have charged tuem with the crime of being a Jcic- tion in favor of the French re^mblic, *' wickedly in- tent on any system of politics which may thsarm the government ot its security and energy." You have, in short, denounced them as traitors to their country, and consequently, not only not entitled to protection, but destrving of the puni'^hment of ex- cision from the community tney belung to. Cer- tainly, before you could bring such heavy charges against any men, supposing them to be as vile and criminal as you could wish them, in the present case, to answer your abominabk purpose, you 379 ought to be well assured that the evidence on which you ground your accusations, is not to be contested. Your high pretensions ought to place your charges beyond all doubt of audienticity ; and even assure us, that you have too much ho- nor and honesty, to throw promiscuous reproaches on any set of men, without the most satisfactory proofs that could be requisite to vindicate the most sacred regard to truth. But, have you discovered such proofs to support your charges, as would be necessary to give them validity before any tri- bunal, especially that of conscience? Have you, in a word, formed your opinions of these men, in the characters in which you represent them, after the most scrupulous and diligent enquiry, that every honest jury-man would think necessary for giving a verdict, in such a case or any other? You cer- tainly have not. You have not acted in the case, like a man of principle; you have merely echoed the charges that have been a thousand times re- peated, in passion, or from interest and prejudice. You have thought it honorable to resound the com- mon voice of defamation, because it has been done by men o{ place ^ or oi prospects. In a word, un- less you can make good your charges, by undenia," ble evidence, we have a just right to think of you in the most disreputable and dishonorable light. Come forth, then, and prove your accusations to be justly founded. I challenge you to name 580 the men who have thus basely aimed to bring their country under the influence and direction of the French government; who are wickedly intent on disarming the government of its security and ener- gy. Come forth, like a man who fears nothing so much as the siigma of falsehood and dishonor. You have nothing to dread, in the cause of truth and justice: your evidences are clear, and the strength and justice of the nation are concerned to support you. Be as bold as a man of con- science ouglit to be, in so great and good a cause. Your country demands of you so important a du- ty; and, if you do not answer its demands, your- self are chargeable with the crime of misprision of treason, and more criminal than the principals themselves, because, knowing the conspiracy and conspirators, and alarming the public mind with continual fear of their traiterous intentions, you yet obstinately keep it a profound secret, who and where they are. Go, drag this vile /action from the dark recesses, where it foments the black and detestable machinations of treason; that the sword of justice may fall upon it in time, and prevent the fatal effects of it, in the subversion of our indepen- dence and national existence. Prove yourself to be the patriot you pretend to be, and merit the reward of purging the nation of such malignant enemies, and saving it from their deadly hosti- lity. 381 No; you cannot do it; you have not within your reach, a single proof of any such treasonable intentions, or of any set of men in the country. I mean American citizens, who wish, much less aim, to bring it, in a single instance, under the influ- ence of the French government; or disarm our own of its energy and security. No; the charges are calumny throughout; and let the infamy of the crimes themselves rest upon the heads of those who malignantly assert them, without a shadow of proof. You certainly will not plead, that the disappro- bation of certain measures of the government, or even an avowed attachment to the French repub- lic, are proofs of criminal faction, and treason against the country. Have not you yourself la- bored to prove the preference of the British go- vernment to our own; and that the subjects of it enjoy more substantial liberty than the people of the American republic? And have any of thosa you have branded with the reproach of bein^ a " vile French faction," avowed a preference of the French government to the American? Have any of them labored so far to degrade the federal con- stitution, as to prove it to be inferior to the monar- chy of Britain? Have any of them so far contra- vened the general sense of the nation, as to deny that the American constitutions are more favora- ble than any other, to a just and rational liberty, VOL. 2. 3 c 582 and every substantial advantage that can be look- ed for in the state ot society? They have not; but yoii have done it, and have merited the honors justly due to your superior modesty and penetra- tion. Columbian us. €l&e ^ertiilitp of ^rejutiice ^E^ig'plapeb— No. vili. 7o Viiidicatory SIR, Whln you^ exhibited your charges of "fac- tion," " conspiracy," Sec. with so much zeal and confidence, you certainly were not aware how open }ou laid yourself to rt-criminadon. To re- crimnate, 1 allow, does not vindicate; but as you cannot possibly n\ake good your charges, it will seive the more effectually to invalidate them, to show that the principal evils we have labored un- der, are to be ascribed to that system of politics Vhich you have espoused. This is not only do- ing justice to those you have accused; hut to those also who have been imposed on by such misrepre- sentations, through want of tb.e means of tracing them to their proper causes, and of knowing the real merits of this business. In discharging this duty to my fellow-citizens, I shall menticni but a few particulars, wishing as far as possible to avoid all discussion of our late public measures, for two reasons — because some of them will inevitably come under review, at a future time; and because we seem, at present, to have a better prospect of tranquility, than for a long time past. Tnis I would in no case disturb, except when the public good seemed to require it. One evil which has arisen from the aforesaid misrepresentations, is, that many people, in vari- ous parts of the unioii, particularly along the sea- coast, have been greatly alarmed with apprehen- sions of suftering every kind of mischief from the French faction, that men instigated by the worst of principles could be supposed capable of perpetrat- mg. They have been taugiit to believe, that the said faction had formed a chain of union, all along the continent, were well provided with every in- strument of destruction, and only waited the ap- pearance of a French fl^et on the coast, to begin their operations, and open the way for an effectual invasion of the country. In the mean time, it was said, that they were secretly contriving, and exe- cuting every measure of more private evil, within their reach. I'articularly the destructive fires which, within a few years past, have happened in the principal cities of the union, have been pub- lickly charged to French emissaries, acting in con- cert with their friends of the faction m this coun- try. This I have heard, at different times, very confidently asserted by individuals. And to such n84 a monstrous length have these apprehensions pre- vailed, that 1 have more than once been told, that the late malignant fever, which has proved so fatal t aiTiongus, was certainly introduced by the French and their adherents, in order to render our princi- pal sea-ports a more easy prey to them whenever they were prepared to carry their hostile designs into effect. You may say, that the people who could believe such things must be extremely ignorant. I grant you, that ihey were; and so much the greater was the crime of imposing on them, by reports which they liad not the means of knowing to be false. It is certainly both inhuman and immoral, thus to sport with tlie inquietudes and fears of that part of mankind who are the least provided against cala- mity, and the most easily led, through unavoidable ignorance, to take upon credit any thing which they hear asserted by men whom they suppose to be too knowing to be deceived, and too honest and benevolent to deceive. Another and a greater evil that we have suffer- ed, and still suffer, is the discord and animosity which have prevailed, by means of that system of policy to which you have attached yourself. In discussions on public measures, it has not been thor.ght sufficient to trust them to the powers of argument and persuasion, which alone ought to have been employed; but it has been deemed both 385 justifiable and patriotic, where argument failed, to resort to the last resource of a weak and overbear- ing mind, passion, reproach, and insult. Men, persuaded of the goodness of their cause, and con- scious of the integrity of their views, who labored to inform themselves of the true interests of their country, and were determined to agree to no mea- sures that appeared inconsistent with those inter- ests, and who had the same right as their oppo- nents to maintain and declare their opinions — were entitled, whatever side they took, not only to in- dulgence, but respect. Instead, however, of be- ing allowed the merit even of honest intentions, which are always indeed the highest merit, ihey were treated as enemies of the government and country; as aiming to defeat the most necessary measures for the public security, and to invite the French, not only to continue their aggressions, but to invade the country. When the debates in the national legislature commenced, the body of the people, I believe, leaned towards the most pacific and economical measures. It was therefore necessary to gain them over, by some means, to that system of po- licy which several leading characters had contem- plated, and which they had determined, if possible, to carry into eitect, at any expense. Nor were they long in devising the best expedients for their purpose. To alarm the people with apprehen- 386 sions of immediate danger, even of their national existence, and that this danger principally arose from the machinations of men among ourselves, who were consulting the views of the French re- public, more than the interests of their own coun- try, offered itself as the most certain mean of dis- crediting, and effectually crusliing all opposition. To insure success, every auxiliary was engaged, who was judged a fit instrument for their views. Presses were employed, that were known to be the least under the restraints of truth, decency, or morality, to impute to the mniurity the worst of principles by which men could be influenced, in order to render them, as far as possible, the objects of the odium and resentment of the people. Under these degrading circumstances, it was impossible for men of the calmest temper not to be roused to indignation, and to endeavor, as well to strengthen their party, as to vindicate their principles and conduct. This, it was their duty to do, not only on private considerations, bnt in regard to what they believed to be necessary for the public good; and to persevere in it, so long as there was any hope left of their success. But, the more steadily they adhered to their principles, the more keenly they were pursued with invec- tives, aad false accusations, till at length the body of the nation was gained to the opposite system, and the minority left to bear, as well as they could, 387 all the indignities and mortifications with which the victorious party could load them. In this man- ner and on the principles of your faction^ the na- tion has been divided; and at a time too, when unanimity was more necessary, than at any other period of our national existence. You have cried ow\ faction^ when our animosi- ties have arisen from your politics alone; and you have charged, with being incendiaries, that part of the people who have been for measures of peace and amity. How is it possible that you should not see the absurdity of your ovva principles, and their tendency to overthrow the very basis of the American constitutions? But, your prejudice hath blinded your eyes to the most important political truths, and rendered your opinions even contemp- tible, in the eyes of men who have given these subjects an impartial and serious enquiry, which you certainly have not done. If the French go- vernment has calculated on our assisting them against our own, it has been occasioned by the misrepresentations which have been made by your system of policy: misreprestntations wliich have been assiduously made, and with the utmost confi- dence, till all Europe has resounded with them, and given us an applause, which ought rather to make us ashamed, than to be looked u{ on as a ground of boasting. It is owing to tliis very- schism, that men of your politics have effected, 388 that the officers of the British government have, in innumerable instances, insuhed our vessels at sea, and even made lawful prizes < t them, accord- ing to those prniciples of law which have been adopted by that government you so much prefer to the American constitutions. A^d yet, the poli- cy you have espoused would cover these insults with justifications, which men of the least know- ledge of the relations we sustain by our treaty with that government, would condemn as nugato- ry and dishonorable. I'his you cannot but know is the true ground of our political animosities; and that they are entirely chargeable on those who are joined with you in the pernicious system of poU- tics you have adopted. I have purposely avoid- ed going into this subject with muiuteness — not, I assure you, through any fear of consequences, but merely out of respect to the public tranquility. At my leisure, I shall follow you — not for any importance that I annex to your meagre perform- ance; 'but merely to expose your politics to the just contempt of my fellow-citizens, among whom you appear insidiously to aim to promote animosi- ty and discord. Your's with consideration. COLUMBIANUS. S89 /Cl&e f ertjilitp of ^^rejutJtcc ^i^pIa^eU— No. IX. To Vindicator^ SIR, You must entirely blame yourself, for the un- pleasant things your vindication has obliged me to say. You had no provocation to come forward, in the violent manner you have done. There were no reflections in the obnoxious toast, on any measures of our own government; and what, I pray you, had you to do with his Britannic Majesty, that you should so highly resent the sentiments implied in that toast? ' As a writer of some capacity, and I have no objection to say, of even good talents, I cannot but wonder that you could not see the impropriety of raising on the toast, the political fabric you have attempted. To me it is evident, that you fixed on the toast, merely as a sort of text, to give yourself an opportunity of venting your political sentiments. What your motives were, is a matter of no concern to me. I think my seU bound, from the most affectionate attachment to my country, to show, that the part you have taken in this bu- siness, is very injurious to our common happiness, and particularly deserving of the severest repre- hension, for the injustice you have done to many whose patriotism has merited the highest respect. YOL. 2. S D 390 Among the slanders you have uttered, against what yuu are pleased to call the French party, you have said, ,that they justify the general conduct of France towards this country. What you may have heard to this purpose, I cannot say; but, I have been in habits of intimacy with several persons, whose genuine patriotism has subjected them to the calumnies uttered by such pens as yours; and I can say, with perfect respect to truth, that I have never heard any one of them justify the French government for any of the injuries they have done us. The strongest sentiment in this view, that I can now recollect, went no farther than this — that the French did no more than the British had done before them, and were still doing; and that we might as well be plundered by the one, as the other: but I never heard their conduct justified. So far from justi- fying them, in violating our neutral rights, the frietids of the FVench government have condemn- ed the injuries they have done us, on much stron- ger reasons than you could possibly give. They condemned them as unjust in themselves, and as violations of those compacts which are common between civilized nations, and necessary for mu- tual confidence and free intercourse. They con- demned them also, as tending to the disparage- ment of republican governments, which they zea- lously wished, on the most generous principles, 39i might become the universal governments of the world. And they condemned, and regretted them, on another consideration, which, whatever you may please to say of it, was generous and patrio- tic — I mean, their tendency to cool the affection which subsists hetiveen the two nations^ and to prO' duce a formal rupture^ if not a %var, highly detri- mental to both. The French faction, that is, the minority of the nation, who knew the advantages we derived from an uninterrupted commerce with France, and the gratification and advantages our breach with it would give to the despotic governments of Eu- rope, as well as the danger that would result to our own constitution, were extremely anxiovis that measures might be taken to compromise, if possi- ble, our differences, and remove the mutual jea- lousies, which, unhappily for them and us, had arisen to a great height. Now, you must allow me to say, what there are too strong reasons to believe, that the patrons of your politics were well pleased to think, that the conduct of France towards America would end in war, and an irreconcilable hostility. And to effect an event that seems to have engaged the warmest wishes of great numbers, has not every thing, except a formal declaration of war, been done on our part, that we could conveniently do, in order to bring it about? And is it not, even to 392 this moment, vociferated from different presses in the union, as indispensibly necessary to our na- tional honor, and even interest; though new envoys have been appointed to the repubUc, to settle the differences that subsist between us? Nay, have not influential persons among us, endeavored to keep up the idea tiiat war is neccbsary for us, and inevitable, and even upon the point of commenc- ing? This is a shameful, but undeniable fact; at the same time, it must be perfectly obvious to eve- ry man, acquainted with the course of our debate with that government, that there never have been any just grounds to believe^ that it ever had any se- rious intention of declaring war against us. No measures, that we know of, have ever been taken, on their part, for the purpose. And even had they, through resentment, been disposed to hostility, they were too much engaged with their European enemies, to have it in iheir puwer lo execute such a measure, it is a most dibingenu- ous and cruel thing, to keep up the alarm of war, when there is, absolut ly, not the most remote appearance of it; and when the preparations that such alarms have induced us to make, against as mere a chimera as Don Quixote's windmills, are attended with an expense that will be severely ielt by us, and probably our posterity after us. Because some will get into a way of living on the public, without rendering it any service; and S93 others obtain preferment to useless offices, that will only gratify their own ambition; do you think it just that the nation must be brought tinder con- tribution to such private and personal views? Ill as I think of your political opinions and prejudi- ces, I persuade myself, you cannot but think, that your party have driven measures beyond the mark of reason and sound policy. Were war necessary, for the defence of the country against France, or any other nation, as I know what it means, probably much better than you do, and many others who seem so eager to taste its blessings, 1 would, as cheerfully as any other man, contribute my part to repel all inva- ders. But knowing that we are in no danger from France, at least for some years to come, I deem it an abominable piece of policy, to alarm the pub- lic mind with apprehensions of so ideal a calamity. COLUMBIANUS. 394 FEDERAL SEDITION AN T I-n E MO C R AC T. No. I. " Seemeth it a small thing to you, that ye have* eaten up the good " pasture, but ye must tread down with your feet the residue " of your pastures; and to have drank of the clear waters, but " ye must foul the residue with your feet?'* Scjufiutis. The crisis at which we have arrived is ex- tremely interesting, and must greatly surprise the body of the people. At no period either be- fore or since our existence as a nation, have we been in circumstances equally alarming. The re- volutionary war, however terrible to humanity, excited all our energy; and the prospect of acquir- ing the advantages of indej)ende'ice, rendered us superior to the dangers and difficulties which so great and dignified an object presented. We were then suflfi-cienily united to hazard our fortunes and our lives to gain the right of governing our- selves, according to our own sentiments and princi- ples. We accomplished, by great sacrifice of blood and property, our independence; established for 395 ©ufselves the principles and form of the govern« ment under which we preferred to Hve ; and had a right to expect that men c losen by ourselves, and equally interested in the management of our affairs, would sacredly have acted on the princi- * pies of their office. But we have been deceived in the confidence which we reposed in our own citizens, and are now reduced to a situation which must call forth the most vigorous efforts of patri- otism and courage; or all that we have already done must go for nothing, if not for worse. The republicans have been long held up as men of seditious politics, aiming to subv^ert die go- vernment, and sacrifice the country to the views of France; and many honest citizens have been so far deceived as to believe it to be true. The charges have in no instance been verified, as it was impossible they should, and the authors them- selves knew that they could not. But tho' they knew it, they had good reasons for acting as they did; and many of the republicans understood their reasons as well as they did themselves. But they were the more abused for suggesting their appre- hensions, that there were principles in operation tending to subvert the constitution and the liber- ties of the people. It was impossible, indeed, that men who kept their eyes open to facts, and were capable of judging of their tendency, could avoid -suspecting that something v/as in contemplation^ 396 very different from the objects of the revolution and the government which the people had esta- bUshed. Their suspicions were strengthened by the eagerness of their opponents to silence them by violence, and by the measures which were adopt- ed by government against the sense of the people, expressed by the must decent remonstrances. By a most respectable part of the nation in congress, men of the first talents and informadon on political subjects, a strong and manly opposition was made against many different principles, judged by them equally to operate against the constitution and in- terests of the nation. However, after completely performing their duty, they were obliged to yield to the superior force of artifice, employed by go- vernment to accomplish its own purposes. That such artifices have been really practised, a long train of measures might be easily brought in proof, could the fact be seriously doubted. These proofs I purposely wave, because they are too disgrace- ful to the nation to be mentioned, without an ur- gent necessity should call for them. Should such necessity occur, no respect to men in office ouglit to interfere with their publication. The ambition or interest of individuals must ne- ver be set in competition with the good of the na- tion. Tiiis sentiment, I hope, will remain indeli- ble on the minds of the people. The people are 397 the despositaries of our national happiness, and it lies with them to keep or to give it up. While they preserve a just regard to their own rights, and have the spirit to maintain them, they will remain in safety, let the spirit of domination do what it will: but should they languish into supine- ness and indifference, all the fruits of our boasted independence will be blighted forever, and instead of liberty, we shall leave to posterity the inheri- tance of chains and all the miseries of oppression. Such, however, 1 hope, is the magnanimity of the American people, that they will willingly sub- mit to any present sacrifices that may be necessa- ry to t leir own independence, and that of their successors for ages to come. In the prospect of receiving the gratitude of those who are to follow us, there is a generous and noble sensation; and we shall deserve the execrations of our children, if we do not secure it. A Republican of '76. November^ 1800. f etjeral if>ctiitiott anti ^inti^l^emocraqi— No. il. The Republicans have all along been confi- dent, that the true reasojis of the clamours which the federalists have raised against them, as ene- mies to their country, must at length appear; that 3 E 398 the people wovilci be convincecl, that their dislike to the present administration is founded on their attachment to the constitution; and that the charges brought against them, would ultimately be fixed on their calumniators. In this confidence, they have borne every thing as patiently as possible; resting on the integrity of their motives, and scorn- ing to support their cause by dishonest means. Before I go farther, I wish it to be understood, that, in speaking of the Federalists, 1 chiefly in- tend those among them, who have assumed the rank of leaders, and have practised fraud, and de- ception, on weak and unsuspecting minds, to pro- mote their views. The body of them, it must be believed, have acted on principle, incapable of falsehood and artifice^ of which they have been made the innocent victims. Whether the Federalists have thought that they could no longer conceal their principles, or that their schemes were ripe for execution, I can-^ not say; but the mystery under which they have acted, is now revealed. The violence to the con- stitution, and the contempt of the people, c^bvious in so many of their measures, have now explain- ed their inieniions in the clearest manner. No doubt can possibly remain, that a laborious train of efforts have been made, to detacli the people from the true principles uf the revolution, and the republican, or rather the democratic form of 399 government established by their suffrage. Mr. Adams, their oracle and idol so long as he would go with them in their measures, has brought out the secret of their machinations. He has declar- ed, that, " since the envoys were sent to France, the Federalists have been the most seditious men in the nation; that there is a strong party among us, aiming at monarchy; and, as his own sentiment, that we shall never have liberty, or happiness, till out first magistrate be hereditary," or to this effect. No developement can be more interesting to the people; nor perhaps, could any thing be more sur- prising to the most of them. The republicans are not surprised, because it is no more than what they expected. Almost every measure of the pre- sent administration has been calculated to excite alarm, and to enforce a conviction, that it was, from the beginning, conducted on principles which re- quired, as far as possible, to be concealed. The most obnoxious measures that have beea adopted to carry on the hostile designs of the federahsts against the constitution, have alrea- dy been ably discussed, [by an excellent wri- ter, under the Signature of " A Republican," in the City Gazette.'] On the subjects which he has considered, nothing farther can be re- quisite to convince the people of the danger into which they are brought by men entrusted by them- selves with the management of their political con- 400 cerns. If they can still remain insensible to their present critical situation, it will be difficult to find the means of rousing them to reflection. How- ever, I do not yet despair, as though all that we have contended for, at so great an expence, were irrecoverably lost. IF the illusory ideas of great national wealth and splendour have not already de- bilitated us to effeminacy, there is yet hope of re- curring to our first principles, and resolution. In this hope, 1 shall suggest, in my own way, the con- siderations which have occurred to me, of impor- tance to be presented to the public. The state of our politics at present, is shortly this — The Federalists, till lately unanimous for Mr. Adams, have now divided between him and General Pinckney. The principal supporters of the latter, are the very men who were the must violent supporters of all the measures of govern- ment, until the late mission to France; and tliey are the men who raised the loudest clamours of French influence and faction, against the Republi- cans. How it lias happened, that the men who have advocated all the measures of Mr. Adams, except that of pacification with France, have now firillen over to General Pinckney, behoves his friends to explain. The schism, when fully under- stood, is unquestionably more to tlie disadvantage of General Pinckney, than Mr. Adams, because, it presents the obvious idea, that General Pinck^ 401 ney's new friends have been detached from then first connection, because they have been aisappoint- ed in their wishes for a war with the French Re- public. No other reason for their wished for change of a president, can be produced, unless their schemes are stih deeper than have been sup- posed. That they have aimed at war, and used the most direct means to bring it about, no man of the sHghtest observation can hesitate to be- lieve. Every provocation has been given that directly tended to that effect ; and our Federal Su- preme Court, at Philadelphia has declared us to be in a state of war with France. Could the Fede- ralists have accomplished this object, the way would then have been clear for forming new con- nections with Great-Britain, and making arrange- ments for a change in our system of government. The confusion and distresses of war, with the in- fluence of an army of fifty or sixty thousand men, officered by Federahsts alone, would have pre- sented the most promising opportunity, either of bearing down the Republicans at once, or gradu- ally bringing their principles into discredit, till the majority of the people would have been induced to consent to some sort of monarchy, or an here- ditary president and senate. The war, in this new projected system, was aimed at, merely as the means; a change of government was the end. We have escaped the one, to the great offence of the 402 Federalists; it lies with the Republicans, by strengthening their principles, to prevent the cala- mity of the other. This must be their dependence, if they wish to maintain the government of the constitution, and to escape the fangs of ambition and tyranny, which ever aim at the same thing, their own gratification, at the expence of others. While the power is in the hands of the people, as it is with us, they may and ought to maintain it: when it is once lost, it is extremely hard to re- cover it. An attempt to subject the free Ameri- can people, to the will of men not elected by them- selves, into oflBce, or, after election, abusing their trust to the purpose of domination, ought to be repelled with indignation. The federalists well know, that republicanism is the only impediment in the way to accomplish their designs; and for this reason they have directed their main efforts against it. May that providence which emabled us to gain our Democracy^ preserve it to us, against all at- tempts to subvert, it! A Republican of '76. November^ 1800. 403 f eticral ^ctiition anb 9Cnti^^cmocracp— No. Iir. Besides the direct measures of government, aimed to destroy the republicanism of the nation, which are comprised in No. 24, of the Republi- can, to which I importune the people to pay the most particular attention, there have been employ- ed subordinate means, by which artifice has been substituted in the place of argument, as more cal- culated to entangle, and less capable of detection. Of these, I shall give a short statement, that the people may know the true ground on which to defend themselves, against innovations on the go- vernment they have chosen to adopt. Let them keep their eyes open, and preserve the patriotic feelings of the revolution, and all will be secured, that we then gained. The federalists have held up to contempt, the sovereigfity of the people^ as illusory, nugatory, ridiculous, and the phraseolo- gy of demagogues, or men aiming to lead them, merely for the private purposes of ambition. But, if the people have not been grossly deceived, from the beginning, by their own constitution, they are truly sovereign; the power of changing it, or con- tinuing it as it is, lies with them alone. Their suffrage mediately, constitutes every office, and confers every power to transact the business of the nation. They are therefore, unquestionably, so- 404 vereign^ and I hope they will never suffer their so- vereignty to be wrested from them, either by arti- fice, or violence. Another expedient adopted, apparently to change our constitution, or form of government, is, the attempt entirely to drop into disgrace, the only single word, in our language, that expresses the prmcipal character of our government; and to bring others into common use, which are of an equivocal meaniag, and may be applied to govern- ments of very different constitution. The government of the United States^ is strictly ^ a representative Democracy^ because the power is lodged with the people. The terms, therefore, Republican, or Federal, do neither of them express the nature of our government. Holland, Switz- erland, and Venice, were called Republics, though they were unqualified aristocracies. The term, Federal, is still less appropriate, because it merely expresses a compact, and may as properly be ap- plied to a combination of tyrants, such as that formed against France, as to any compact of the people in favor of liberty. This word, as first used for those who agree in adopting the present constitution, was proper enough. But, as it is now used, to express the friends of the present administration, it is merely intended to point out, for odium, those who are for maintaining the con- stitution, against every attempt to invade it. The French revolutionists had adopted the term Demd^ craty to signify their poHtical principles; and we had adopted it, from them, and retained it, till the new views of government found it necessary to bring it into contempt. This they have done, to the utmost of their power; but if the people suffer themselves to be deluded out of their rights, by- artful terms, it is their own fault: and they will find perhaps too late, that their deceivers have not intruded only, the change of words, but the sub- stantial change of things. Democracy^ and 7>f- 7nocrat, would never have given the Federalists so much offence, nor have excited them so earn- estly to adopt words of a very different meaning, if they had not most exactly expressed the true character of our constitution. It may be replied, that words are of little mo- ment; but, they are of great moment: and we must carefully guard against the effects which the Fe- deralists intend by changing names. Augustus, the Roman emperor, destroyed the liberties of the Roman people, by retaining the names of republi- can officers, after the offices themselves were en- tirely in disuse. The same thing was done by the early monarchs of France, to throw the influence of the people entirely aside. The Federalists abo- lished the terms expressive of our governmentj with a view to abolish the government afterwards. Let democracy, and democrat be treated with what VOL. 2, 3 F 406 contempt they may, I hope the people will have the camion, and wisdom, to keep in constant use, the terms which continually suggest to them their power and influence in determining the govern- ment they are to live under, and their right to dic- tate to their public officers, instead of being dic- tated to by them. The Federalists, in the quali- fied manner I have spoken of them, have indeed a mortal dislike to these popular words; and if they can succeed in excluding them from common use, they will suppose their point gained; and in- deed, it will be gained. But, the Republicans, if they act with political prudence, proportioned to this important crisis, will revive the only terms that express their rights and attachment to the consthution. There is more safety for our liber- ties, in the force of these now obsolete terms, than can well be imagined. The great, and most promising expedient on which the Federalists have relied, for accomplish- ing their views, is tiie name of religion. 1 say, the name, because the Federalists themselves are wide in their opinions about the thing itself, whe- ther it means the religion of nature, the religion of the gospel, or any other religion, or none at all, according to the views which they are pleased to entertain of it. This, if they were, to a man, called to explain themselves, on a subject of which they had made 407 so great a use, in order to prevent Mr. Jefferson's election, would, I suspect, put them to extreme difficulty; perhaps go farther than any thing be- sides, to divide them from one another. They, indeed, speak of Christianity, and call Mr. Jeffer- son an infidel; but what they intend by the one word, or the other, I am much at a loss to under- stand, as they have not explained themselves either way. Some of them, however, v/ho would be un- derstood to be very zealous for Christianity, have given much stronger proofs of their being infidels, in effect, than tliat Mr. Jeffersun is such. The means they have used to defame him^ are such as infidelity itself would blush at; and which are suf- ficient to penetrate a conscience that feels itself bound by the light of reason only, with the sharp tortures of remorse. Let the " Republican Fede- ralist^'' think of this; and let every man of com- mon honesty and sensibility, think how far such a man is to be relied on I His book indicates a prin- ciple which every Federalist of sentiment must abhor: — but oblivion will soon hide a performance so reproachful to humanity. A Republican of '7Q, November^ 1800. 40S fttnal f ebitiott anb "JIIntt^^cmocracp—No. iv. The subject of reiigion, which has been brought forward, so eagcrlv, by the FederaUsts, in order to prevent Mr. Jefferson's election to the presidency, shall now be more particularly consi- dered, out of respect to many conscientious peo- ple, who have been imposed on, by different pub- lications. The Republican Federalist himself has ac- knowledged, that no legal proof can be adduced, of Mr. Jefferson's infidelity. If then, there be no legal proof of it, pray what kind of proof is there? For, certainly, in such a case, no other proof can be admitted, and no other can be considered as worthy the attention of the people. As the Re- publican Federalist, than whom no man has ever scrutinized a character, to find out defects, with more eager apparent prejudice and malevolence, has not found this evidence, nothing more can be required, to make his attempts go for nothing. As Mr. Jefferson's infidelity has not been proved, by any of his enemies, that point, I think, ?nust be given up, by every man who regards the truth of things, more than the sound of words. With re- spect to the projession of reiigion, necessary to a chief magistrate in our government, Mr. Adams, who certainly ought to know, has said, " that the 409 American government, or constitution, is in no re- spect founded on Christianity." IF that be so, and it must be admitted as true, in part, then it cannot be essential, that the President of the United States should be a Christian, in fact. It is certain- ly not on the profession of Christianity, that the people depend, for a faithful execution of the du- ties of his office; but, on the strength of the oath he takes, on his initiation to it. If the profession were sufficient, what need of the oath? And, if the oath be the principal security, of what essential necessity is the profession? We are not a nation like the Israelites, all of one religion; nor have our presidents, like their kings, the power to direct the nation, on the subject. If the president be, m fact, a man of no religion, the nation, if reli- gious, will not suffer on his account: and though the president should be the most religious man upon earth, what will it avail to the national hap- piness, if the people themselves be irreligious? Mr. Adams is a zealous professor of Christia- nity; but has that profession maintained the con- cord of the nation, or preserved the constitution from being violated, or done any thing towards the national happiness? Has it prevented Mr. Adams from receiving power which he ought not to have received; or from acting in a manner which has brought on him the strong suspicion of parti- ality to a party? It has not. Though his profes- 410 sion, as such, entitles him to respect, because it is what every man, enjoying the benefits of the gos- pel, ought to make: yet, it is not the security of the nation; as the events which have taken place under his administration have too clearly proved. But, by any thing I have said, there is no intention to call in question the integrity of his profession. Indulge, with pleasure, the presumption that it is sincere. I only mean to prove, that such a profes- sion is not an indispensable qualification for a Pre- sident; at least, so far as Mr. Adams has carried his. The state of Pennsylvania is, perhaps as gen- erally in a profession of religion, and in as decent a conformity to that profession, as any state in the union; yet the people, confiding in his integrity, did not hesitate to make Doctor Franklin iheir chief magistrate, after other important trusts which that state, and the whole nation had committed to him; and I do not believe that any part of the union would have objected to him, had he been proposed to the presidency of the nation, though he made no profession of Christianity. I ask, then, why is Mr. Jefferson opposed? What has he done to merit the abuse which has been cast upon liim? Has he either written against Christianity, or been known to make it the subject of ridicule, in private companies? I have never heard that he has, though few men in this state have had better 41i opportunity than myself, to know his real charac- ter. I am confident, that there is no man in the nation, who better deserves the confidence of the people, or who is better qualified to execute the duties of a president. Neither his talents, nor in- tegrity of principle, nor steadiness of attachment to the constitution, can justly be called in question. Indeed, I am strongly persuaded, that there is no other man in the nation, so well qualified to ex- tricate us from our present embarrassments. Mo- deration of temper, his integrity, and refined sen- sibility, much above the unworthy views of private ambition, render him, in every respect, deserving of the public esteem and preference. His oath would, in my opinion, whatever be his private sentiments of Christianity, be as great a security as we could expect from any man — and what more have we to depend on, let who will be elected to the presidency? We tried Mr. Washington, and we now suffer the heavy evils of a treaty ratified by him, in a moment of self-dereliction. We have tried Mr. Adams, and our situation is still worse. Let us now try Mr. Jefferson, w*ho has given every desi- rable evidence of ability and principle. Under his direction we have every thing to hope for — peace with Europe, impartiality in the appoint- ments to national offices, and an unchangeable at- tachment to the principles of the constitutior. 412 What more can we expect or hope for, from any man? A Republican of '76. November, 1800. fcticral ^etiition anti ^nti=5E)emocrat^— No. V. I will now ask, why are the Federalists so afraid of Mr. Jefferson's election; and what are the true reasons for so strenuous an opposition against it? Are they apprehensive that he who, is not known hitherto, to have attempted any injury to religion, but has really done it eminent service, by the " act for establishing rehgious freedom,'* in the state of Virginia, would, on his promotion to the presidency, use any influence to detriment Christianty? It is impossible that any man can believe, or suppose it. On the head, therefore, of religion, the people may rest in confidence on Mr. Jeffer- son; because his opinion is, that religion ought to be entirely free from the intrusions of the civil pow- er, whose officious interference has always injur- ed it, and left to its own authority, which has al- ways been sufficient to support it against all oppo- sition; and this is, unquestionably, the sense of the Gospel, I therefore, pray the people, who regard their sacred rights, to dismiss their fears, on this 413 subject. Their religious freedom will never be safer in the hands of any man, than in those of Mr. Jeiferson. He has given the strongest proof, that any man can require, of principles favorable to the first interests of mankind. It is the extreme of injury to ascribe to him principles, against which lie has so strongly contended. How it has happened, that the people of the New-England states, especially the clergy, whose ancestors fled from persecution for their religious principles, should be so intent, as evidently appears, from their late conduct with respect to govern- ment, on some coercive measures on the subject of religion, it would be difficult to conceive, by those who did not know, that they have from the first settlement of the country, employed the force of law, to oblige men to a profession, and support of the Christiaii religion, on the same principles of the government against which they made the most vehement complaints, and to escape the oppression of which they encountered the difficulties and dangers of emigration to a wilderness. It appears that the clergy of those states have taken a lead in this business; and they have given strong reasons to suspect that they are opposed to rehgious liberty; and are therefore, afraid of a man who is so well known a friend to it. There is also ground to suspect, that many of the Episcopal clergy, supposing their claims, to distinctive privi° VOL. 2. 3 G 414 leges, to be well founded, wish for an establish- ment; and are therefore opposed to a pure repub- licanism, and to Mr. Jefferson, as its advocate and supporter. I do not believe this to be the case with them generally; indeed, I have the pleasure of knowing some of them, who maintain the prin- ciple of religious liberty, and would scorn to enjoy a support compelled by the force of law. Are the Federalists afraid of Mr. Jefferson, for his pacific temper and principles, that be would place the nation in a state of amity with all Europe ? I suspect that too many of them are. " Our navy- says the Republican Federalist would be hauled up to rot." Why should it not rot, rather than the waters should be unnecessarily involved in the calamities of war? Must we be obhged to keep up a state of war, to the endless expense and miseries of the people, to save a few ships from rotting, and to maintain a few men of no service to the na- tion? O the patriotism, and humanity, of the Re- publican Federali'it ! Thousands of men must lose their lives, and thousands of money must be wrested from the people, to save an useless, nay, a pernicious navy from rf>tting! What a saving politi- cian is the Republican Federalist ! This rare eco- nomist would expend Eagles, to save cents. This is economy with a witness! Are the federalists who arc in office afraid, that should Mr. Jefferson succeed, they would lose 415 iheir places? It is not improbable that many of them are. But, I have such an opinion of Mr. Jefferson's integrity, that I do not beheve he would displace a single man, in whom he found the qua- lifications necessary to the duties of his office. His election might, indeed, disappoint some eager expectants of his new competitor; but that would affect only a few individuals, who most likely, have no claim to be supported, at the expense of the nation; it would injure no man. Are the federalists afraid that the influence of Mr. Jefferson would effectually defeat those hos- tile designs against the constitution, which have been contemplated under the present administra- tion? That there really have been such designs, and still are, there are so many clear proofs that the most incredulous cannot dotibt it. Some of them have been already detailed in the City Gazette, of the 24th of October last, from Fenno's pam- phlet. Fenno was under the patronage of the leaders of the federal party till very lately. It is therefore just to consider him, in that publication, as expressing the political sentiments of his pa- trons. So that every man of every party must be convinced that the destruction of the constitution is aimed at. Besides, the leaders of that party have utter- ed menaces sufficient to excite the utmost conster- nation. Lvery measure of violence to intimidate 416 the people, has been threatened; and there is rea- son to fear there has nothing been wanting but the means of execution. Let the electors think of this. Mr. Adams is said to have declared, that " if the twelve regiments* hadbeen full, and Alexander Hamilton at their head two years, the United States would have been forced to raise another ar- my to disband the standing army."t The same A. H. is reported to have said in Boston, that '' if Pinckney was not elected president, he would lose his head, or be at the head of a victorious and tri- umphant army within three years." So, then, the people must either appoint the man of Alexander Hamihon's choice, or be made to suft'er all the miseries of a civil war! Docs General Pinckney know this, and yet stand a candidate for the presidency on such terms ? Or does he patiently bear the dislionor of being brought forward by a man, who, to effect his designs of private ambition, would put himself at the head of an army, to inflict on the people of these Slates all the terrors of military violence? Can General Pinckney bear such an insult on his affection to his country? I hope he will renounce • The whole force contemplated was 42,000 hirelings, and 75,000 ■volunteers. I Letter from Hartford in Connecticut, 417 the influence of such a man as Alexander Hamil- ton with indignation. A Republican of '76. November^ 1800. Spetietal ^etiition anti ^nti^^cmocracp— No. vi. As it is not men, but principles, for which the democratic republicans are contending, it is indif- ferent to them who the president is, provided they can have assurance of his firm attachment to the constitution; and that he will adhere to that, as the rule of his official conduct. This qualifica- tion they cannot dispense with. They are there- fore urgent for a man of undisputed republican- ism, in the sense of the constitution. With them great talents, or great experience, which is bet- ter, are of less importance: but where they are united, it is so much the better. The union of these qualifications in Mr. Jefferson, with the others already mentioned, is the reason of their giving him the preference. They would object against no man whom they could believe to pos- sess them in an equal degree. As the leading federalists have now given up Mr. Adams, and have thrown their influence in favor of General Pmckney; and as the republicans have fairly stated their reasons for supporting Mr. Jeff'erson: they have a right to ask, on what grounds 418 is Gen. P. opposed to him? and what proof can be produced, that tiie latter has stronger claims to the confidence of the people than ihe former ? Neither Gen. P. nor any of his supporters, can justly take offe^ice at any investigation of his po- litical character, that the republicans may think necessary to make, in so important a crisis as the present; especially as the federalists have investi- gated Mr. Jefferson's character, even to his pri- vate and domestic affairs. The republicans of ho- nor scorn to employ so unworthy a method to gain their purpose. The following queries are in no respect intended to derogate from the real merits of Gen. P. but are as indispensible in our present circumstances, as they are perfectly consistent with the rules of decorum. Or, to speak better, they aresuchaseveryconscientious».elector, who prefers the interests of his country to private and person- al regards, ought to attend to in determining the vote he is shortly to give. Has Gen. P. done greater services to the nation than Mr. Jefferson; or is he possessed of greater talents for the administering its affairs ? Is he known to be more firmly attached to the consti- tution? Is he known to be a steady frequenter of the public services of religion, and to have done more for the maintenance of religit;us freedom? The latter, if any, is the more necessary, as the federalists have opposed Mr. Jefferson most 41^ strongly in respect of his religion. They ought, therefore, in regard to consistency, to make it appear that Gen. P. maintains at least a respectable pro- fession of Christianity, by attending its institutions. When Gen. P. accepted his commission to the late federal army, did he not know that it was raised against the sense of the constitution, and did he believe it would ever be called on, to repel foreign invasion? Did he ever attempt to persuade the good people of this state, that war with France was inevitable, and to use means to excite in them a spirit of hostility against that republic? When he accepted his commission, did he know, or had he reason to suspect the monarchism of A. Hamil- ton? Since Gen. P. has stood a competitor for the presidency, has he known that the said A. H. has declared, that he would either lose his head, or, in three years, be at the head of a victorious tri- umphant army, if Gen. P. is not elected to the pre- sidency? Do the supporters of Gen. P. think him honored, or disgraced, by the patronage of such a man? Do they know the character of A. H. who has published his own infamy unblushing to the world? Can Gen. P. maintain the competition with a man, whose patriotism, and republican principles, as defined by the constitudon, are opposed by such men as A. Hamihon, Timothy Pickering, Jona- than Dayton, he. 84c. men who have meditated, and are still meditating schemes for the destruc- 420 tion of our liberties? Are these grounds on which Gen. P. can honorably stand? Extremely far from it. Unless these queries are satisfactorily answered, it isimpossible that the electors can nominate Gen. P. consistency with fidehty to the sacredness of their trust. Let them remember what suflFerings our constitution has cost us. Let them remember, that this is the great struggle for the estabhsh- ment of political liberty. Let them remember, tliat their decision will affect distant generations; and that they themselves and their children will be free, or enslaved, as they shall make it. So interesting a crisis ought to banish from their minds, all prejudice, and partiality; and determine them to act hke men who are responsible for as high a trust as ever was reposed in mortals. A Republican of 76. November, 1800. 421 Mr. JEFFERSON— No. I. Messrs. Freneau & Fame, I HAVE read, with very great pleasure, the chc^ racter of Mr, Jefferson^ in your paper of the 26th July, as it is both just in itself, and well suited to our present situation. The unprovoked wrongs which have been ac- cumulated on that great and deserving man, have excited the astonishment and indignation of all im- partial people, who are acquainted with his merits; and will exhibit to posterity, as strongly perhaps, as any other circumstance, the true character of that influence, by which the nation hath, for some time, been controuled. Considering his talents, his candor, his modes- < ty, his early exertions in the cause of his country, his decided attachment to republican principles, and his steady perseverance in those principles: considering that he has been an invariable friend to the rights of the people, in opposition to the views of aristocracy, and the assumptions of un- constitutional powers: considering, in a word, the rank which he now holds in the government, and the important services he has rendered the nation, VOL. 2- 3 H 422 as envoy abroad, and as the secretary of state at home — one cannot sufficiently wonder, that Mr. Jefferson should have suffered more calumny than any other man in the union. His patriotism, his political integrity, his morality, his religion, and even his domestic concerns, have all been the sub- jects of the most acrimonious and malignant dis- cussion, against which he hath stood patient, and, till very lately, unsupported, except by his own innocence and dignity ot sentiment. The friends of Mr. Jefferson, that is, all the true republicans in the nation, the advocates for economy in the administration, for the inviolabili- ty of the constitution, and for peace, though tney most sensibly felt the injustice that was done him, were confident in his virtues; and, therefore, re- solved to defer his vindication, till such time as the public good would demand it. With respect to Mr. Jefferson himself, no vindication can at any time be requisite; but, it is not just that the nation should be debarred of any services which his ta- lents are capable of rendering it, because the spi- rit of competition, of envy, and political party, would wish to obstruct them. People who are not informed of his real cha- racter, will naturally ask, is it possible that all that has been said against him can be mere slan- der? or, what heinous offence has he been guilty of, that he has rendered himself obnoxious to so 423 many people, and provoked so much severity of censure? 1 will tell you, my countrymen, plainly; and I assure you, I will intentionally assert no- thing that I cannot support by unquestionable facts. Mr. 'Jrfferson was a candidate at the last electio7i for a President^ and he will also be one at the next. This is the true reason of all that tor- rent of obloquy which has poured upon him from so many parts of the union, especially from the eastern states. I am now on so delicate a subject, that I can only suggest to you some general thoughts: not because it is difficult in itself, but because I am not at liberty to speak out my sentiments as free- ly as the subject would require, and as the consti- tution gives me a right to do. No; our hands are manacled, and our lips are locked up, and oui presses are embargoed, in such a manner, that the best friend to his country dare not, without danger of an heavy fine and imprisonment, to utter any thing against the President, or the heads of de- partments, or either house of congress, or any of their measures; we are obliged to use great care, not to suggest any direct reflection on any of their late acts, though we should judge them ever so unconstitutiunal and oppressive. We may, indeed^ say any thing against Mr. Jefferson, however false and slanderous, without the least hazard; and the advocates for the sedition law, and the alien act» 424 have not spared him. After next March, however, I hope we shall once more be free mcn^ and shake off that torpor which hath so long benumbed us! But, to return from this digression. The po- litical sentiments of Mr. Jefferson were, on seve- ral subjects of importance to thf nation, known to be different from those of Mr. Adams; so that the friends of the latter, in the competition for presi- dency, did not hesitate to adopt the expedient of representing him to the people, in every view which they supposed might make unfavorable im- pressions of him, and affect his election: and this- they have continued to do, with great persever- ance. The general charges brought against him, re- spect his politics and religion. For the present, I shall pass over the former, because his enemies have relied more on the latter, for rendering him odious among the common people; and they have stopt at nothing, to accomplish their purpose. As to Mr. Jefferson's private sentiments of the Christian religion, I cannot particularly speak, not having had an opportunity of knowing them; but whatever they may be, I believe it to be agreeable to the natural reservedness of his temper to keep them pretty much to himself; and while he con- forms himself to the laws of his country, he is cer- tainly no farther amenable to it. 425 The source, however, of a great part of this odium, I believe I can trace with some exactness; and it is as follows. At the commencement of the revolution, in order the more effectually to unite the people in the common cause, aa act was passed in the state of Virginia, to dissolve tlie esta- blishment, that the different religious societies might stand upon the same footing, and have a common interest. This measure, though in every view just, was secretly disrelished by the more bigotted Episcopalians; and the great majority uf the clergy, the chief of whom were Britons, were so highly offended, that they either left the coun- try, or declined the public service, and lived on the glebes; while a few continued to officiate, in confidence that the establishment would at some time be revived. From the passing the obnoxious act, this was secretly contemplated; and after the peace, the main point being then gained, the Epis- copal clergy embodied themselves into a conven- tion, and met at different times, under the sanction of the state. A bill was brought forward, chiefly, I believe, through their influence, for enforcing a general assessment for the support of religion; and in favor of this measure it was strongly urg- ed, that' without the interferance of the state com- pelling every man to pay something towards it, there would soon be no religion left. The bill was insidious in principle; being really intended 425 by many to prepare the way for the revival of the establishment; and some of its over-zealous advo- cates incautiously let out the secret, which proved the occasion of its destruction. The late Col. George Nicholas, Mr. Madison, and Mr. Jefferson, opposed it from the first; and at length Mr. Jefferson brought into the assembly a bill for the establishment of religious freedom, which passed. This proved so severe a disap- pointment to the advocates for the assessment, and especially to those who made sure of regaining all the emoluments of the establishment, that it became an unpardonable offence ; and Mr. Jeffer- son was held up for the public odium, as an ene- my to the gospel and to all religion. I am sorry that excellent instrument is not in my possession; but, to the best of my recollection, Mr. Jefferson has expressed himself in terms re- spectful to the Christian religion; and particularly appeals to it, as every where disclaiming the prin- ciple of compulsion, and trusting itself wholly to its own powers of conviction and persuasion. Whatever opinions he may entertain of it in other respects, in maintaining this to be its true princi- ple, he so far does it honor; as the contrary sen- timent is both disrespectful and degrading to it; and has, in my opinion, more than any other cause, obstructed its progress. Had Mr. Jefferson ad- vocated a general assessment, and especially had 427 he gone into the views of the clergy,* and of others who wished for exclusive ecclesiastical privileges, it is more than prohable he would have been left to enjoy his own creed, without molestation. But, having from the first movements towards the re-, volution adopted the most liberal sentiments, both on civil and religious liberty, and uniformly main- tained them with a strength of argument which could not be resisted, and a fervor of interest which could not be diverted from its purpose, all the friends of the ancient order of things, both fo- reigners and natives, became his determined ene- mies. Some of his own countrymen, who valued themselves on greater antiquity and splendor of family, seeing the influence he obtained, and the brilliancy of his reputation, became tinctured with envy; and though they wished success to his po- litical sentiments, were unwilling that he should eclipse themselves. The same thing, it is known, happened to the late distinguished Mr. Patrick Henry; and Washington himself suffered on the same account. The talents, the literature, the un- assuming modesty, and the distinguished public services of Mr. Jefferson, placed him beyond the reach of his enemies, who dared not, on any of » It is justice to remark, that several of the clergy of other re- ligious societies were, at first, for an assessment; but on suspecting its ultimate design, became unanmious against it— both on this ac- count, and as being unjust in principle. 428 these points, to attack him. Here, however, they have some way or other found means to assail him; and they have rehed for the success of the mea- sure, on the creduhty of the people. But, so far as I can do it with integrity, 1 shall endeavor to obviate the success they promise themselves, that the unworthy artifices of partial and designing men may not have the efFect to overthrow us. Supposing Mr. Jefferson not to be a believer in the Christian religion, and that he has adopted a system of religious opinions for himself, inde- pendt^nt of the authority of revelation — has any one a right to call him to an account for so doing? Or, iloes his exercising such a right, prove him disqualified ybr serving the nation in any station Xo which ii might think proper to appoint him? 1 am persuaded, tiiat no man of any justness of senti- ment, will think that it does. What has any state, or what has the United Stntes, to do with any man's religion, provided he conduct himself con- formably to the laws establishing the order neces- sary to the public good? There is nothing farther can be demanded oF him; because the laws cannot possibly take cognizance of any thing but his ex- ternal actions. Besides, after all the noise that has been made about Mr. Jefterson's religion, every man of com- mon sense must know, that religious opinions have never been made among us, the test of qua- 429 lification for civil offices. Whether in appointing governors, envoys, heads of departments, or even Presidents, we have never considered their reli- gion, but their talents, and other qualifications ne- cessary to discharge their respective offices to the public advantage. It is, therefore, most partial, and injurious, to demand of Mr. Jefferson, a qua- lification for public service, which we have never demanded of any other public officer. Amyntas. August^ 1800. 4lBr. Sleffer^on— No li. We may justly demand of those who object against Mr. Jefferson's election to the presidency, on the score of religion, what particular opinions on the subject are necessary for that office; and what have hitherto been required, in those who have obtained it? But should we press them very closely on this point, I believe that many of his vio- lent opposers would be extremely embarrassed to give an answer, as the constiution has not prescrib- ed what system of doctrines the president is to adopt; and, as probably, not a few of themselves are liable to the same charge which they so vehe- mently urge against Mr. Jefferson. If it were requisite to do it, I am prepared to show that this is, in fact, the case. I am prepar- voL. 2. 3 I 430 ed to show that, if Mr. Jefferson had not been a candidate for the presidency, and had not stood in competition with President Adams, his rehgious opinions would not be now C(jntested. ^so man would have thought it necessary to brand him with the character of aa infidel: no one would have giv- en himself the trouble to say, whether he beheved in the christian religion, or not; or whether; he ought to attach himself to any religious society, or not. Such ofticiuus meddling with his right of thinking for himself, on religion, as well as poli- tics and philosophy, would have been deemed, al- most by every man, in the last degree indecent and unjust: Nay, 1 have not the least doubt, that not a few of these zealous, but temporary advocates for Christianity, would not a little value themselves on being thought philosophical infidels. But, though we should allow their claim to infidelity, we should not as readily grant that to philosophy; for true philosophy would teach them to treat so meritorious a man, with more humanity and de- corum. That this shameful clamor has been raised against him, not from any respect to religion, but merely from political motives, to obstruct his pro- motion to the presidency, may be easily made ap- parent to the conviction of every impartial man in the nation; and it is of great importance that it should be clearly understood by every man who 431 !ias a true feeling for the national happiness, and who places this before all private and party con siderations. First — Until the present administration of go vernment, no man was called to account for his re- ligious opinions; his promotion to a national office depended on his political knowledge, and suppos- ed integrity to discharge the duties of that office, to the general good. His opinions respecting Chris- tianity were never brought into account one way or another. It was certainly on this principle that Dr. Franklin was employed in different very important offices, though it was well known that he never connected himself with any pariicular re- ligious society; and it is equally known, that in our own state in particular, there have been men in the most public stations, who made no particular pro- fession of the Christian religion, and were known to neglect its most characteristic institutions. This, 1 have ground to believe, has been the case in most of the states. That there are at this time, while Mr. Jefferson's religion is so industriously held up to the odium of the nation, several men in important federal stations, whose religious opin- ions, if it were of consequence to canvass them, would not be found respectful to Christianity, I have not the smallest doubt. But, they are not condidates for the presidency; and besides, which is a very material csnsidcration, they are advocates 432 for all the late measures of government; and may, therefore, believe the Christian rehgion or not, as they think best, and not be accountable to any body. Their political opinions being on the right side, are the undisputed test of their virtue, and the inviolable sancuiary of their safety. They bear the brand uf the Deny whom they serve, and in his temple no man may molest them.* This is the high privilege they have secured, by hav- ing the skill to model their politics by the true standard. Had Mr. Jefferson acted with the same sagacit)'; had he vehemendy declaimed against the religion and politics of France, especially the lat- ter — had he advocated the non-intercourse bill and war with the republic and a federal army in a time of peacef — and high presidential preroga- tives, and profuse expenditures of the national money, and great loans at enormous interest, and the sedition and alien laws, and supernumerary embassies; ana been an enemy to free discussion of public measures, and the right of petitioning and complaining against them — there is no doubt with me, that he would now be in as peaceable • See the ancient customs of Egypt and Greece. t I can never be persuaded, wiilKmt other information than the public iias possessed, that aiiv cool, intelligent btatcsman in the na- tion. eve:i serionsh b^-lieved that an army would be necessary to repel an invasion from France. The French had neitheir a navy, nor an army to spare for tli" pvirpose, nor any object to gain by an invasion; nor had they the disposition to attempt it. possession of his religion, as when he was envoy or secretary of state. Were Mr. Jefferson the only man who has been publicly accused of infidelity, and enmity to all religion, and good order and morality, and tlie welfare of the nation; it mig'it be supposed that some peculiar atrocity of opinions had mark- ed him out as a fit object of the censure and odium of all good men, and more especially, of all the citizens of America, of a just and sober way of thinking. But, so far is he from having stood alone the butt of the most iniquitous obloquy, that with him has been associated, for the same pur- pose of eager malevolence, every man in the na- tion, whose opinions of the politics of the country have been similar to his. And it is of importance to my purpose to remark, as strongly supporting the opinion I have advanced, that, proportionable to the conspicuousness of station and influence over the public mind, which any man in the mi- nority has possessed, have been the labors of the adverse party, to misrepresent, and crush him. Nor has this been a contingent of occasion, but the business of a close-compacted system, ne- ver intermitting its operation nor for a moment in- attentive to its purpose. To such intensity have the minds of Mr. Jefferson's adversaries been wrought up, by the passion of party, the impatience of opposition, and the envy of superior merit, and 434 reputation! while he, with the tranquility becom- ing a philosopher, and the patience worthy of a Christian, has borne it all! Such immobility of tem- per, amidst the outrage of injury, is neither com* patible with profligacy of principle, nor the mean* ness of an ambitious mind. Whatever it be, Mr. Jefferson is in possession of some strcmg, coercive principle, which maintains his equanimity entire^ where few men would be capable of less than xe* taliation. Amyntas. August J 1800. 43^ THE RETREAT. WITHIN VIEW OF THE SEA. From bustling cares exempt, that cities know, And punctual forms, and deaf 'ning noise and smoke, I seek that peace, which rural scenes bestow; And find it here, beneath this verdant oak. While from the noonday-sky full on my head, The sun sheds down his keen relaxing heat, With eager wish, but languid steps, I tread, To gain refreshment in this cool retreat. These wide extending limbs, with foliage crown'd. That through the changing year knows no decay,* And pendent moss, soft waving o'er the ground,t Excludes, with friendly shade, the burning ray — * The live oak is an evergreen. t So luxuriant is this plant, that it often hant^^s from the oak to the length of ten or twelve feet. Where several of these trees stand toge- ther, in a cilm day, they affect the mind with a soft and agreeable gloom. In the clear sunshine, with a moderate wind, the waving of the moss^ forms a moving picture, exceedingly soothing; and even at a distance, seems to fan and refresh the spectator. 436 Nought moves around, save yonder blacken'd plain. Where slav'ry, urg'd, digs up the glowing soil: Or cooks, by smoaking stump, its portion'd grain, Scarce equal to the waste of constant toiL Before me spreads, with sluggish swell, the deep — By nought disturb'd, save where that breaker tells Tl'^e cautious seaman, far his course to keep, Nor tempt the place, where dreaded ruin dwells — And where that bark, full looming on the eye. With crouded canvass ply'd for cooler seas. And foUow'd oft with owner's anxious sigh. Slow wakes the foam before the languid breeze — Where too the sounding beach, with shells o'erspread, That, moald'ring, long upon its sands have lain, Repels the surge, that rolls upon its bed, In scattering spray, back to the mass again. In this still scene no envy wounds my breast, Wuh vip'rous tooth, whose bite no cure doth know:* Still plt-as'd, though life in all its forms were best, And most, if all, who feel as men, were so. * This is only intended to convey this serious sentiment, that so malignant is the slate of the mind, from whicli envy proceeds, that it is much edsier to cure any other passion than it. 437 While that wide bounty, on which all depend, To me, what suits my warmest wish, hath sent — * To others also may iis peace extend, And not one bosom be with anguisii rent! Let gainful commerce pile the merchant's store With ghttering wares, in distant India wrought; Or brown l^otosi fill his desk with ore- — That ill, witli blood of men so often bought: Let others, vers'd in theories profound, The mazy plans of polity unfold. Their various merits learnedly expound, And be with Locke and Montesquieu enroll'd : Let heroes lead the havoc-train of war, Where thousands mix in death their wasted blood, And gain, by sharpen'd woes, extended far, That lawless rule, ambitious Csesar wop'd: Or, like that man,* impell'd by nobler aims, Obtain what Caesar ne'er at Kome could find — A just reward, superior far to fame, Unbounded trust, and grateful love, combin'd. • The American chief. VOL. 2. 3 K 438 Let majesty its toilsome honors wear— Usurp'd by pou'r, or gain'd by native right — O'er subject millions stern dominion bear, And vainly boast of all-sufficient might* — Let these their choice, whatever it yields, possess, Of power or j )y. Though it should perfect be, One wish of mine should never make it less: Since my own lot is peace — enough for me. Of life not weary, nor at man chagrin'd. What tender ofiice e'er my hands can do, Shall prompt be done, with sympathetic mind. To heighten joy, or soothe the pangs of woe. Were knowledge serves, that doubtful thought to guide; To cherish virtue, to support the weak: With unreproachtul boon, spare want provide, And wipe the tear that wets the orphan's cheek. From cares like these, to steady habits grown, Springs sober joy, which no reproach can wound: Which stays beiiind, when others far have flown, And not a trace of what they were, is found. * And the king spake, and said: " Is not this threat Babylon that I have built: — Dan. iv. 'jo — " V\ hom he would he bltWj and uhom he would he kept ^Une." lUd v. 9. 439 When social life no active task requires, And tow'ring thought has dropt, with wearied wings, From those bright themes, that wake sublime desires. And nurse that hope, that looks to future things : Be then the fields of science my deHght, Or varied walk and prospect unconfin'd; W lere blooming truths siill-on the steps invite, And fill, with light serene, the wand'ring mind. But, chief of all, from airy height to trace. Through optic tube, by silent night, the spheres, Far glowing round, through tracts immense of space,' True to their destin'd course, through endless years. Here, thought intense that wondrous law hath shewn Wliich binds the planets in its wide domain, Which rules the comets, far in skies unknown, And guides them back to mortal view again — 'Tis this to each its proper place assigns, Or in the centre fix'd, or round to roll — 'Tis this in one great system all combines, And keeps up perfect order through the whole. While close in shades of night conceal'd it lay, Deep myst'ry still the prying eye perplex'd: Bat, clear disclos'd o'er all spreads open day. And science frees, with schemes discordant vex'd — 340 That heaving deep this power attractive tells, As o'er its wave, full orb'd, the moon doth glide, Wiien on its bending shores it foaming swells, And when it leaves them bare, with ebbing tide. Here wakeful observation too descries. While others shun in sleep the midnight air, What various lights are borrow'd from the skies. To aid the busy works of mortal care — Not only these assist, whose lengthen'd ray Still guides the eye to where they hold their place, But those wlio ne'er their scanty light display To mortal view, but through the faithful glass.* Great work of perfect thought! where no defect E'er yet was raark'd in all the wondrous plan! Whose steady lights the docile mind direct Far up to him, who form'd this work for man. Here hopeless Hume, from truth still wand'ring wide,t The boast of error, slighted by the wise, Might too have seen what Newton clear descry 'd;$ And gain'd with him immortal wisdom's prize. * Brydonci Avhen on the top of Etna, supposed, from the unusual number of stars which were then visible that the satellites of Jupiter might have been seen with the naked eye, had that planet been above the horizon. t rhis particularly refers to his principles of philosophy and religion_ 4 That the whole system is the result of perfect wisdom, and its mi- nutest parts superintended by the same power that gave it existence. 441 But pride of reason, scorning to be taught, By Light himself, in human form displayed, In gloomy maze confounded ev'ry thought, And man's first, warmest, noblest wish betray'd*. From lov/er cares exempt, well might the sage, Of thought matur'd, and him aspiring high, Peruse, unwearied, this must splendid page Of truth, and feast insatiate the eye. From orb to orb, traversing, unconfin'd, Through fields of radiance, wid'ning on the view^ The mental pow'rs increasing vigour find, And order's glowing forms still on pursue. Beyond the scanty line that bounds the sight Quick Fancy flies; and, Reason for her aid, New worlds descries of purer air and light — Their order, laws, and ends to her display'd. What various life of matter more refin'd. What pains and pleasures, politics, and care, What high pursuits employ the nobler mind, And what relation they to us do bear — • Immortality. 442 And these advent'rous Fancy nightly sees Oft as th' enraptur'd eye on heav'n doth gaze: Sych forms, though all ideal still must please; Such still the soul from earth to heav'n can raise. — Pure range of placid tljought, where, grosser cares, Like those thick fogs, which wrap this lower spot, Impetuous passion, which the soul impairs, Low aims and doubling art are all forgot— No wan-eyed Envy, to herself a prey, No Discord, rending the soft ties of love, No sly Revenge, who shuns the face of day, In these calm regions, e'er with joy could rove. Nor Avarice, still looking on the ground, Nor Vanity no other's worth who know, Nor languid Luxury, in bowers found, Nor Cruelty, who feeds on others' woes, To scan the spangled sky, and commerce there, Where wisdom sheds her clear instructive ray, Demands for higl^er arm and nobler care. Each meaner passion banish'd far away*. • Philosophy does not always overcome, though it must regulate the passions, lesh or more, in proportion to tie assiduity and success with which ii is cultivated: and certainly the subjects we are upon, next to those of revelation, have (he most direct tendency to impiove the soul in great and generous affections. 44S Be then my thoughts on these high themes employ'd; When other cares of higher aim allow: As aids to virtue stifl be these enjoy'd, Virtue alone true happiness can know. Sylvanus. '^' ', PROPOSALS BY J. Hoff, for Printing SAURIN's SERMONS, Translated Jrom the French, IN SEVEN POCKET VOLUMES; Those who have read these Sermons cannot hesi- tate to proiKjiince them ihe best modei of Ptilpit Oiatorv, and that for baldness and origioa'i y of thought and expression — for pei spicuitv and deptli— for profound Icarnint^, and evangelical sinipiicii) — for a gtowing fervor and ardent picly — for beauty, elegan' e and eloquence, few have equalled and none excelled. Tekms..., I. To be printed in Seven Porket ' uo- decinio V^olumts, and to contain all the Sermons in the 7 Vols, octavo edition. II — Ihe price in boards, only 7 dols, and bound 8 dols. Ill — The paper shall be fine, and the printing ex- ecuted equal to the London, or first American edition, whici) scd from 12 to IS dols I\' — Ihose who will aid the Publisher in obtaining subscrihers, shall for every eight copies ihey will see paid, receive one lor their trouble. September 20, 1810. # Date Due ll^utj^e^^M^^^^ tf m PRINTED IN U. S. 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