c 
 
 No. 
 
 / 
 
 Division ...... 
 
 Range 
 Shelf.. 
 
 Received 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 WILLIAM OILMAN THOMPSON. 
 

M E M 1 R S 
 
 OP 
 
 REV. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER, D. D., 
 
 AND OF HIS SOX, 
 
 REV. JOSEPH STEVENS BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIZA BUCKMINSTER LEE. 
 
 BOSTO^: 
 
 WM. CROSBY AND II. P. NICHOLS, 
 
 111 WASHINGTON STREET. 
 
 1849. 
 
I. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849. by 
 
 WM. CROSBY AND H. P. NICHOLS, 
 in the Clerk s office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 CAM BRIDGE: 
 
 M E T C A L F AND COMPANY,- 
 
 PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IT may very naturally be asked, why, if the lives of 
 the persons whose memoirs are contained in the follow 
 ing pages possessed an interest for the community, the 
 silence of nearly forty years should have remained un 
 disturbed upon their memory. On the other hand, it 
 may be asked, Why are the seals now broken, and the 
 veil of domestic privacy withdrawn which concealed 
 features composed in the unchangeable beauty of death ? 
 The history of the book is simply this. About fourteen 
 months ago, I was requested, by a gentleman well 
 known to the literary and religious public, Rev. Dr. 
 Sprague of Albany, to furnish some recollections of my 
 father and brother for a work which he is preparing for 
 the press, " Annals of the American Pulpit, or Bio 
 graphical Notices of Eminent American Clergymen of 
 various Denominations." 
 
 In recurring for that purpose to letters and papers 
 which had fallen into my possession as the hearts that 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 dictated and the hands that wrote became cold in death, 
 but which a sentiment, understood by every heart of 
 sensibility, had suffered to remain undisturbed for so 
 many years, it seemed to me, as I read them anew, that 
 they contained much which should not be willingly suf 
 fered to die, that they might teach other hearts, 
 and that, as the blessed dews and rain do not return 
 merely to the fountains and rivers from which they are 
 drawn, but are diffused in showers which revive distant 
 places, so these letters also, intended only for private 
 instruction, might counsel some other son, or encourage 
 the heart of some other parent. 
 
 In preparing the memoir of my brother, I have been 
 able through the excellent arrangement of his papers 
 at the time of his death, and the almost reverential care 
 of his friend, Mr. George Ticknor, to preserve even the 
 smallest fragment from his pen to present of him near 
 ly a complete autobiography. The thread with which I 
 have connected the memorials from his own pen may 
 seem, to those who have never heard of him, heavy and 
 overcharged with eulogy, while, to the few surviving 
 friends who enjoyed his intimacy, the portrait I have 
 endeavoured to fill up will appear, if not incorrect in 
 its outline, cold and faint in its coloring. 
 
 The delicacy and reserve which I have felt in endeav 
 ouring to present to the public, in their true light, the 
 characters of relatives so near in blood and so precious 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 to memory, has been in some degree lessened by the 
 years that have removed their beloved forms from my 
 sight ; but, as I have receded from them in time, I have 
 been able to approach nearer to them in the true appre 
 ciation of their characters. As we look back upon the 
 long past, the venerated forms of early life rise up 
 again, and through the suffering of our own souls we 
 come to an understanding of theirs, as the sun at last 
 shines through the tears of a cloudy day, and, as it ap 
 proaches its setting, reveals those who began life with us 
 in all the rainbow beauty of the morning sky. 
 
 E. B. L. 
 
 MAY 15, 1849. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ancestry of Dr. Joseph Buckminster in England and in America. 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Joseph Buckminster. Childhood. Education and Residence, 
 as Tutor, at Yale College. Form of Religious Faith. . . 9 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Dr. Buckminster s Settlement in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. 
 
 Reminiscences of the Piscataqua Association of Ministers. 
 
 Their Meetings. Missionary Magazine. Prayer-book 
 
 for the Use of Families 26 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Portsmouth. Peculiarity in its Early Settlement and in its So 
 ciety. Its Wealth. Personal Recollections. Mrs. Tap- 
 pan, Dr. Buckminster s Sister 34 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Marriage of Mr. Buckminster. Character and Anecdotes of 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 Dr. Stevens. Death of Mrs. Buckminster. Depression of 
 Spirits. Second Marriage. Joys and Trials. 51 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Early Development of the Character of his Son Joseph. Let 
 ters between the Father and the Son. Exeter Academy. . 67 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Joseph enters College. His Character as a Student. Letters 
 from his Father 83 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Joseph S. Buckminster. Assistant in Exeter Academy. 
 Theological Studies. Method of Study. Letters. ... 109 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Joseph s Residence at Waltham. Theological Studies. Cor 
 respondence with his Father upon his Religious Opinions, 
 and upon his Entrance on the Ministry. Purpose of Relin 
 quishing his Chosen Profession 126 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Character of Dr. Buckminster s Preaching. Extracts from his 
 Sermons. Letters 151 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Joseph S. Buckminster. His Theological Studies. Corre 
 spondence. His Invitation to Brattle Street Church. His 
 Ordination. 183 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Extracts from Sermons. Illness. Music. Letters. . . . 198 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Ordination of a Classmate. Monthly Anthology. Anthology 
 Club. Journal of Studies. Letters 220 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Journal of J. S. Buckminster in London. Journal and Letters 
 upon the Continent 255 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Mr. Buckminster s Return to Boston. Increased Ardor in his 
 Studies. Friendship and Attachment to Mr. Walter. Grief 
 at his Death 297 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 J. S. Buckminster. His Interest in Periodical Literature. 
 And in Sacred Literature. Beginning of L T nitarian Contro 
 versy. Extracts from Sermons 315 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Ordination of Mr. Parker, at Portsmouth. Dr. Buckminster s 
 Friendship for him. J. S. Buckminster s Housekeeping with 
 his Sister in Boston. Letters from Drs. Sprague, Pierce, and 
 Abbot. Dr. Worcester 354 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Sermon on the Death of Governor Sullivan. Letter on Duel- 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 ling. Bible Society. Address before the Society of $ B K. 
 
 The Athenceum 331 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Correspondence between Dr. Buckniinster and his Daughter. 
 Remarks upon the Correspondence 414 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Death of Rev. Mr. Emerson. Appointment of J. S. Buckniin 
 ster as Lecturer upon the Dexter Foundation in Harvard Col 
 lege. Study of German. Intellectual Character and Hab 
 its. Last Illness. . . 436 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Domestic Events relating to Dr. Buckminster. Journey to 
 Connecticut. Cheerfulness and Uninterrupted Health for 
 four Years. His last Illness, and Death. Interment. 
 Monument. Funeral Services at Portsmouth and Boston. 
 Reinterment and Monument of J. S. Buckminster 460 
 
 APPENDIX 479 
 
MEMOIRS. 
 
MEMOIR S. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH BTJCKMINSTER IN ENGLAND AND IN 
 AMERICA. 
 
 THE biographies of the two divines which are em 
 braced in the following pages may properly be intro 
 duced by some brief aqpount of the ancestry from which 
 they sprung. 
 
 The name, Buckminster, as it is written by the last 
 generations of the family, is supposed, by the historian 
 of the town of Framingham, Massachusetts, to be an al 
 teration from Buckmaster, which he conjectures was the 
 original name, as it appears written in the Colony records 
 of Massachusetts, and upon deeds of the seventeenth cen 
 tury. This is a mistake. The name of " Adam Buck- 
 minister," and " Roberti filii sui," appears as far back as 
 A. D. 1216 in the English records in Westminster, print 
 ed by order of King William the Fourth, and the name 
 is repeated with the same spelling through all the gen 
 erations of the family, till it became altered in this coun 
 try by the careless spelling of the records. This will 
 not appear surprising to persons acquainted with the rec 
 ords, where are found names long honored and revered 
 1 
 
6 ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER 
 
 by their descendants, altered, and even travestied in the 
 most unaccountable manner. 
 
 The first emigrant of the name of Buckminster to this 
 country is said to have come from Wales, I know not 
 from what authority or tradition, but it seems unlikely ; 
 for I find that in 1578, the twenty-first year of the reign 
 of Elizabeth, a coat of arms was granted to William 
 Buckminster, son and heir of Richard Buckminster, 
 eldest son of John Buckminster of Peterborough, and 
 to all the posterity of John Buckminster for ever. 
 
 The eldest ancestor of whom we have any knowledge 
 is Thomas Buckminster, the author of an Almanac for 
 the year 1599, printed in London. A copy of this 
 Almanac has been preserved in the family to the present 
 time. Watts, in his Bibliotheca Britannica, mentions 
 u Thomas Buckminster, Minister, His Right Chris 
 tian Calendar and Spiritual Prognosticator for 1583 and 
 1584." These are doubtless numbers of the same series 
 with the Almanac just spoken of, and now before me. It 
 contains a calendar, printed in red and black ink, of the 
 days of the month, the signs of the zodiac, the changes 
 of the moon, etc. It is a pleasant, although perhaps a 
 fanciful thought, that Shakspeare himself may have re 
 sorted to one of Thomas Buckminster s Almanacs to 
 see if the full moon would serve for the Midsummer 
 Night s Dream, written and performed between 1590 and 
 1600. 
 
 I here] copy as specimens two stanzas, which may be 
 regarded as of a fair average with the wisdom and poetry 
 both, contained in the copy preserved in the family. 
 The calendar of each month is preceded by a stanza. 
 
 The stanza for January is as follows : 
 
IN ENGLAND AND IN AMERICA. 3 
 
 " If thou be sick and health would have, 
 
 The council of the learned crave ; 
 If thou have health, to keep thee so 
 Flee idleness, as deadly foe." 
 
 In June he says : 
 
 " Drink, new or sweet, taste not at all, 
 
 For thereby grows no danger small ; 
 And to thyself such pastime take 
 
 As may, in God, thee merry make." 
 
 Thomas, the son or grandson of the almanac-maker, 
 came to Boston in 1640. He was made a " freeman," 
 that is, in the old meaning of the term, he joined the 
 communion of a church, and received a grant of land 
 valued at 10, from the General Court. He was the 
 owner of a farm at Muddy River, now Brookline, where 
 he died, September 20, 1656. His will, dated only a 
 few days before his death, is recorded in the Suffolk 
 probate-office. The will, also, of his eldest son, Law 
 rence, who returned to England, unmarried, is recorded 
 in the same office. 
 
 If we may infer any thing from the selection of 
 Thomas Buckminster s farm in Brookline, he must have 
 had an eye for picturesque beauty. His dwelling stood 
 at the foot of wooded heights, covered with a dense 
 shrubbery and fringed all up the rocky sides with delicate 
 pensile branches and hanging vines. A rapid, sparkling 
 brook, descending from these rocky heights, ran past his 
 door, spreading out and winding in the meadows in 
 front. Jamaica Lake, a quarter of a mile distant, em 
 bosomed in beautiful undulations of hill and valley, slept 
 tranquilly in full sight of the house. Our forefathers, 
 probably, if they had any love, had little time to culti 
 vate a taste for beautiful scenery. With the axe on 
 
4 ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER 
 
 their shoulders, or their hands upon the plough, they 
 conquered the rough and sterile soil, securing those ab 
 solute necessaries of life, food and fuel, before they could 
 please the eye, or indulge the love of natural beauty. 
 Burns, upon the peaceful hills of Scotland, may have 
 walked behind his plough in glory and in joy ; but upon 
 the New England hills, at that early time, the ploughman 
 must have cast many an anxious look around, lest in the 
 dense forest, closely pressing upon the field, should lurk 
 the beast of prey, or the more dangerous Indian. 
 
 Thomas Buckminster s son Joseph, the first of the 
 family with that Christian name in this country, seems to 
 have succeeded his father, and to have lived upon the farm 
 in Brookline. His son Joseph, grandson of Thomas, was 
 a man whose foot was capable of making a mark upon the 
 hard New England soil. His name is first mentioned 
 in 1693, when he became a pioneer in settling tlie town 
 of Frarningham, and acted an important part in the estab 
 lishment and administration of the affairs of the place. 
 He was then about twenty-seven years old, with great 
 physical powers, and great resolution and ardor of char 
 acter. He married at an early age Martha Sharp, the 
 daughter of John Sharp, of Muddy River. After his 
 removal to Framingham, he held successively all the 
 offices of honor and trust in the gift of his fellow-towns 
 men. He was a selectman for seventeen years, and a 
 representative to the General Court of Massachusetts 
 Colony for twelve years. He held several military com 
 missions ; was the commander of a company of grena 
 diers in Sir Charles Hobbie s regiment in the expedition 
 to Port Royal, and subsequently had the command of a 
 regiment of Colonial militia, which gave him the title of 
 Colonel. He settled and improved the famous Brinley 
 
IN ENGLAND AND IN AMERICA. 5 
 
 farm of 8GO acres, of which 400 acres were under culti 
 vation. He sold it a few years before his death to 
 Francis Brinley, Esq., for 8,600 in bills of public 
 credit, and seems to have been involved in endless law 
 suits. His name is perpetually found in the various 
 transactions of the town ; at one time, in a deed of gift 
 of half an acre of ground adjoining the meeting-house 
 to accommodate the work-house and school-house ; at 
 another time, he is allowed to make, and to keep in or 
 der, a highway from his house to the meeting-house, and 
 in consideration thereof is exempted from labor on the 
 other highways for seven years. 
 
 At the building of the first meeting-house in Framing- 
 ham, a vote was passed, that Joseph Buckminster should 
 have liberty to set up a pew, upon which side of the 
 great doors he pleased. As, at the same meeting, a 
 committee was chosen to seat the meeting-house, that 
 is, as in early times was the custom, to assign seats ac 
 cording to age, dignity, or the rate paid, we must infer 
 that the pew was an honorable distinction, or a reward 
 for services. 
 
 At the building of the second meeting-house, some cir 
 cumstances on record betray the character of the man, 
 and may have been the origin of an expression the writer 
 used to hear in childhood, of the " Buckminster spunk." 
 The phrase, and the quality perhaps, have since died 
 out of the family. It appears that he obstinately op 
 posed for five years the placing of the meeting-house 
 upon a piece of land to which he asserted or had a 
 just claim, for he dug a cellar and drew timber upon it 
 for his own use ; and when timber for the meeting-house 
 was drawn upon the same land, he did not hesitate to re 
 move it. After a contest of five years, he seems to have 
 1* 
 
ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH BT7CKMINSTER 
 
 acted generously, or it may be only justly ; the records 
 merely say, that Colonel Buckminster made a proposal 
 to the town to make good all the timber that he had drawn 
 off. He would not be compelled, but volunteered this 
 act. 
 
 Tradition represents him as a large, athletic, and re 
 markably strong man, capable of lifting great weights and 
 of carrying heavy burdens. It is said, but it seems im 
 possible, that once, upon a bet, he carried sixteen bushels 
 of salt upon his shoulders. He is said to have been a 
 stern and austere man, and to have ruled among the first 
 settlers of Framingham with no gentle hand ; but there is 
 no tradition that he was ever accused of injustice, or of 
 reaping where he had not sown. He was the owner of 
 several slaves ; a negro woman, named Nanny, was 
 valued at his death at SO. 
 
 His son Joseph, or, as he was called, the second 
 Colonel, was a very different man, much beloved and re 
 spected, and filling various offices of trust and honor in 
 the gift of his fellow-citizens. For twenty-eight years 
 he was selectman, and held the office of town-clerk 
 more than thirty years. He had the honor of represent 
 ing the town of Framingham at the General Court for 
 thirty years, and died at the age of eighty-four, after a 
 long life of public service and personal worth. 
 
 There is a circumstance connected with his history 
 that will be interesting to the friends of African emanci 
 pation. He was the owner of several slaves, in one o( 
 whom he placed implicit confidence, relying upon him in 
 all delicate and confidential business, and placing in his 
 fidelity, as he said, more unwavering faith than in that of 
 any white man. This negro, Prince Young, was distin 
 guished for his talents and his moral qualities, his hon- 
 
IN ENGLAND AND IN AMERICA. 7 
 
 esty, temperance, and prudence, and was left with the 
 sole care of a great estate, and the management of a large 
 farm, while his master was absent at the General Court. 
 
 William Buckminster, the son of the above, and the 
 third who held the title of Colonel, was a distinguished 
 man in his day. At the age of twenty-one he removed 
 to Barre, and devoted himself to the business of agricul 
 ture. He immediately gained the confidence and re 
 spect of the people. His integrity made him friends, 
 and his superior understanding gave importance and con 
 sideration to his political sentiments. In the great strug 
 gle between this and the mother country, he took a very 
 warm and active part. Decisive in his measures, open 
 and undisguised in his friendships, he enjoyed to an un 
 usual degree the confidence of his fellow-citizens. He 
 signalized himself by his activity in providing arms and 
 ammunition. The minute-men raised in Barre were 
 commanded by him, and immediately after the first blood 
 was shed at Lexington, he marched his company to Cam 
 bridge. He was distinguished for prudence and bravery 
 at the battle of Bunker Hill ; he was on the field the 
 whole day, and as the Americans were retreating he re 
 ceived a ball in the right shoulder, that came o.ut at the 
 back. Although thus dangerously wounded, he con 
 tinued in the army till the close of the war, because of 
 the influence he obtained over the minds of the peo 
 ple. It was said of him, that those who knew him best 
 praised him most, for his inflexible integrity and spotless 
 character. 
 
 With him the military spirit ceased, at least in this 
 branch of the family. His eldest brother, son of the 
 second Colonel Buckminster, was born March, 1720. 
 He was the fourth Joseph in direct succession, and the 
 
ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 first that entered the ministry. He was educated at 
 Harvard College, and received its honors in 1739. He 
 was ordained at Rutland, Massachusetts, 1742, and con 
 tinued "the faithful and laborious pastor" of that church 
 more than fifty years, highly respected for his usefulness, 
 and deeply beloved and esteemed by his parish. Mr. 
 Buckrninster may be considered in some degree a her 
 etic of his day, as he entered into controversy in support 
 of a mitigated form of Calvinism. He did not believe 
 that the elect were elected to grace before the founda 
 tions of the world, but were elected from a fallen state, 
 and that election was a remedy for an existing evil. It 
 was not a part of God s original purpose, but such were 
 elected as most diligently used the means of grace. The 
 decrees have no direct positive influence upon men. 
 They are determined by motives, but act freely and 
 voluntarily. Such was his theology. 
 
 These controversies were printed, but it must demand 
 a great love of ancestral blood and an enormous amount 
 of patience even to read now what at that and at re 
 moter times was the very milk upon which Christian 
 babes were fed. Mr. Buckminster is called, in the theo 
 logical tracts of the time, a Sublapsarian. It is a com 
 fort to think that the thing itself is not so harsh as its 
 name, for it seems an effort to soften the stern features 
 of Calvinism, and to mingle a little human clay in the 
 iron and granite of its image. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER. CHILDHOOD. EDUCATION AND RE 
 SIDENCE, AS TUTOR, AT YALE COLLEGE. FORM OF RE 
 LIGIOUS FAITH. 
 
 WE come now to the first immediate subject of these 
 memoirs. Joseph, the son of the Rev. Joseph Buck- 
 minster, minister of Rutland, was the fourth among nine 
 children. The eldest, a son, lived only a few months ; 
 then followed two daughters. Joseph was born October 
 3d, 1751, receiving the ancestral name, which his elder 
 brother who died had also borne during the few months 
 of his life. His mother was Lucy Williams, daughter 
 of the Rev. William Williams, of Weston, a direct de 
 scendant, in the fourth generation, from Robert Williams, 
 of Roxbury, the common ancestor of the wide family 
 of that name spread through the United States. Her 
 grandfather, Rev. William Williams, of Hatfield, was 
 called a man of great abilities. Her own mother was a 
 daughter of Solomon Stoddard, " that great divine, who 
 was considered by many as the light of the New England 
 churches, as John Calvin was of the Reformation." 
 
 Rev. Dr. Stiles says, in reference to him, " I have 
 read all Mr. Solomon Stoddard s writings, but have 
 never been able to see in them that strength of genius 
 some have attributed to him. Mr. Williams of Hatfield, 
 his son-in-law, T believe to have been the greater man. 
 
10 JOSEPH BITCKMINSTER. 
 
 President Edwards calls Mr. Williams a man of " unnat 
 ural abilities," and goes on to say, " His subjects were 
 always weighty, and his manner of teaching peculiarly 
 happy ; showing the strength and accuracy of his judg 
 ment, and ever breathing forth the spirit of piety and the 
 deepest sense on his heart of the things he delivered." 
 Jonathan Edwards was first-cousin to Mr. Buckminster s 
 mother. 
 
 Colonel William Williams, one of the first settlers of 
 Pittsfield, was the maternal uncle of the subject of this 
 memoir. He preserved the venerable elm-tree that has 
 so long adorned the centre of that town. It stood upon 
 land of which he was the owner, and one of his work 
 men had raised the axe to cut it down, when he ordered 
 him to u spare that ancient tree." Its enormous growth 
 must have been the slow work of many centuries. It 
 measures twenty-three feet in circumference only a short 
 distance from the ground, and rises seventy-three feet 
 before it puts out a single limb. 
 
 Of the mother of Dr. Buckminster a dim and indis 
 tinct image remains in the childish memory of the writer. 
 After the death of her husband, she came to spend the 
 last years of her life near her son, in Portsmouth. She 
 was tall, with rather masculine features, and in the mind 
 of the writer she has left the impression of a stern and 
 rather austere nature. It is remembered that she sat 
 constantly in her easy-chair, usually with a book in her 
 hand, and that no noise was permitted in her presence. 
 Her son, whatever were his avocations, never omitted 
 visiting her a single day, and the grandchildren were often 
 sent to receive her blessing. 
 
 Descended thus, on the mother s side, from a family of 
 distinguished intellect and piety, the eldest son was from 
 
CHILDHOOD. 11 
 
 his birth intended for the ministry. The early years of 
 his life were, however, spent in those hardy labors of 
 the farm, in open country air, that are so essential to in 
 vigorate the frame and strengthen the constitution. The 
 healthful breezes of the hills of Rutland must have done 
 much towards expanding his vigorous frame, which was 
 remarkable for its symmetrical development, for the 
 ease and elasticity of all its motions, for gracefulness 
 and freedom of action, which continued to distinguish 
 him through life. He used to delight to tell his children 
 of the country sports of his boyhood. Once, in pursuit 
 of squirrels, he was lost in the forest, and, with another 
 boy, slept, like the babes in the wood, upon heaped-up 
 fallen leaves. The alarmed and anxious friends were all 
 night in pursuit, and the boys were near perishing from 
 fatigue and hunger. 
 
 Another accident that happened in his boyhood, which 
 his children often heard him refer to, made a deep im 
 pression upon his mind. He was ten years old, and 
 after the labors of the hay-field, full of boyish spirits, he 
 was jumping upon the top of the loaded wain, as it was 
 returning to the hay-loft. A false step threw him to the 
 ground, and the wheels of the heavily laden cart passed 
 directly over his neck ! He held a pitchfork in his 
 hand, and it so happened that the handle of the pitchfork 
 fell in exactly the position to support the wheel as it 
 turned over him. This almost miraculous preservation 
 made a deep impression upon his young mind, and he 
 asked himself with deep earnestness for what he had been 
 saved, thus held back from the very threshold of death. 
 He said to his children, that, long after, he never closed 
 his eyes to sleep without a vivid remembrance of the 
 emotion of that agitating moment, and that, in after life, it 
 was never forgotten. 
 
12 EDUCATION AT YALE COLLEGE. 
 
 His heart was very tender in his boyhood. An anec 
 dote once related to his children made a strong impres 
 sion upon the writer, as a proof of that tenderness and 
 susceptibility of feeling which enabled him through life to 
 enter intimately into the feelings of the afflicted, and to 
 be so truly a comforter to his people in his ministry. 
 His elder sister married while he was yet a boy, and re 
 moved with her husband to the then remote region of 
 Ohio. This separation, the first breach in the family 
 circle, was so deeply felt by the young Joseph, that he 
 spent the whole day after her departure alone in the 
 hay-loft, weeping bitter tears, unable to eat, and refusing 
 to be comforted. 
 
 I am not acquainted with the place or the manner in 
 which Dr. Buckminster s preparatory studies were com 
 pleted, but at the age of fifteen he entered Yale College. 
 It was probably through the influence of his mother s 
 relatives, the Williamses and Stoddards, that he received 
 his education at New Haven, rather than at Cambridge, 
 as his father had been a son of Harvard. He was not 
 repelled from Harvard College because it was of a more 
 liberal theology ; for even had it been so, his father, as we 
 have seen, was not one of the strictest among Calvinists. 
 His maternal uncle, the Rev. Elisha Williams, had been 
 Rector of Yale College not many years previous, and 
 this circumstance may have decided for him. 
 
 A contemporary testifies, that, while an undergraduate, 
 he was distinguished for the sweetness of his disposition, 
 for his exemplary moral deportment, and as one of the 
 best linguists in his class. He was a very accomplished 
 Latin scholar, and continued through life to write in that 
 language almost as readily as in English. Many of his 
 familiar letters to his son are written in Latin. His love 
 
EDUCATION AT YALE COLLEGE. 13 
 
 for classical studies was hardly impaired amid the ar 
 duous duties of his profession. Although devoted by 
 inclination and duty to the studies connected with his 
 sacred office, and engaged heart and soul by preference 
 for the Bible, yet Virgil and Cicero continued to lie 
 upon his study table. He was in the habit of addressing 
 familiar questions and simple household orders to his 
 daughters in Latin, and then of explaining them or giving 
 them the dictionary to find them out ; thus a few Latin 
 sentences became quite familiar to them. 
 
 In 1770, Joseph Buckminster received the honors of 
 the bachelor s degree, and was one of the three most distin 
 guished and accomplished scholars who we re chosen upon 
 the Berkeley foundation to continue three years longer 
 at the College, pursuing such studies as they might select 
 for themselves, all expenses being paid by the fund pro 
 vided for that purpose. " That he devoted himself to 
 theological studies," says a son of Yale, "must have 
 been from a high spirituality of feeling, as the religious 
 state of the College was very low at that period." There 
 were also prizes provided by the Berkeleian fund for dis 
 tinction in certain studies. " The Dictionary of Arts and 
 Sciences," in four quarto volumes, was the prize adjudged 
 to him, and always remained upon the shelves of his 
 library. 
 
 The advantages of these three years of added study 
 must have been in proportion to the merit by which they 
 were obtained ; and among the names of those who suc 
 ceeded to this distinction, we find some of the most 
 honored of our country. Silas Deane, the Hon. Abra 
 ham Hillhouse, and Stephen Mitchell preceded him, and 
 among his contemporaries were President D wight and the 
 Hon. John Davenport. Both of the last were his warm 
 2 
 
14 EDUCATION AT YALE COLLEGE. 
 
 personal friends, whose attachment continued through 
 life. Both visited the humble parsonage of their fellow- 
 student within the memory of the writer ; the one accom 
 panied by his son, the other by his wife. To her inex 
 perience of life the one appeared to possess the lofty 
 politeness, the priestly dignity, of the Bishop of London, 
 as made known by the pen of Hannah More ; the other 
 resembled the only hero of romance then familiar to her 
 imagination, Sir Charles Grandison. 
 
 The epic bards of our country, Barlow, Trumbull, 
 and Dwight, were also fellow-students and personal friends 
 of Mr. Buckminster. Numerous copies of the epics of 
 these poets, the Vision of Columbus and the Conquest 
 of Canaan, were arranged upon the study shelves of 
 their friend, probably subscription copies, remaining from 
 year to year in undisturbed quiet. If a child, prompted 
 by curiosity, opened a volume, the unattractive page was 
 restored again to its repose, there to gather the dust of 
 age ; but there is no old mortality that can ever conse 
 crate and make venerable poetry that has in itself so little 
 merit. 
 
 The three years of literary instruction for which Dr. 
 Buckminster was indebted to Bishop Berkeley demand a 
 tribute of gratitude from one so nearly connected with 
 him. According to every account that has come down 
 to us, Bishop Berkeley was one of the noblest and purest 
 of the benefactors of the human race. Pope s ascrip 
 tion, "To Berkeley every virtue under heaven," however 
 comprehensive, is too general to give a true idea of the 
 refined spirituality of his mind, the benignity and disin 
 terested generosity of his disposition. 
 
 It is one of the most singular coincidences of literary 
 history that Bishop Berkeley should have derived a large 
 
EDUCATION AT YALE COLLEGE. 15 
 
 part of his fortune from Mrs. Vanhomrigb, the cele 
 brated Vanessa so long attached to Dean Swift. She 
 removed to Ireland for the purpose of enjoying the soci 
 ety of the person for whom she cherished the most sin 
 gular attachment. But rinding herself totally neglected, 
 and suspecting Swift s connection with Stella, she was so 
 wounded or enraged that she altered her intention of 
 making him her heir, and left the whole of her property 
 to two gentlemen, one of whom was Bishop Berkeley, 
 then nearly a total stranger to her. Thus from the 
 caprice of a woman resulted a singular good-fortune to 
 many of the other sex, even more remotely strangers to 
 Vanessa than was the original legatee. 
 
 Bishop Berkeley was most unostentatious in his be 
 nevolence, doing good by stealth, and blushing to find it 
 fame. His first object, that to which he devoted all his 
 energies, was the promotion of education in t e New 
 World. For this purpose, he resigned the Deanery of 
 Derry, worth 1100 a year, to dedicate the remainder 
 of his life, with only a salary of a hundred pounds yearly, 
 to the instruction of the youth of America. Such was 
 the eloquence of this enthusiast, that he persuaded three 
 of the fellows of Trinity College to embark their fortunes 
 with him, and to give up all their prospects of preferment 
 at home for the small salary of 40 on this side of the 
 Atlantic. He intended to establish a college in what 
 were called the Summer Isles,* Bermuda being the 
 island chosen for its location. 
 
 The project of a college in Bermuda failed, but Bishop 
 Berkeley, as is well known, came to Newport in Rhode 
 Island, where he purchased a country seat and cultivated 
 
 * So called in the Life of Berkeley. 
 
16 TUTOR AT NEW HAVEN. 
 
 a farm, waiting for the fulfilment of his contracts about 
 the college. These failing, he returned, with deep dis 
 appointment, to England, and sent from thence a deed of 
 his valuable farm in Rhode Island to Yale College, the 
 rents of which were appropriated to the support and 
 instruction of the three best scholars in Greek and Latin, 
 selected from each class as it graduated, who must reside 
 at the College at least nine months of the three succes 
 sive years, as a condition of the bounty. 
 
 At the close of the three years of study, Dr. Buckmin- 
 ster was appointed tutor, and held the office four years. 
 Dr. D wight was fellow-tutor with him for nearly the 
 whole of the period. The same contemporary referred 
 to above says, cc He was much esteemed by his brothers 
 in office, and was universally beloved and respected by 
 the young gentlemen who had the happiness to be under 
 his instruction." The year before his connection with 
 the College, as tutor, ceased, in consequence of the agi 
 tated state of the country and the dangers to which the 
 seaports were subjected, the institution was disbanded, 
 and the students scattered in various places, each class 
 under the direction of its respective tutor. 
 
 I regret that so few anecdotes of this interesting period 
 of his life remain in my memory. He was not in the 
 habit of talking much of his early life, and I had not 
 reached that period when we begin to look back, and 
 when, the present not sufficing for the wants of the soul, 
 we wish to learn from the experiences and the trials of 
 those who have gone before us. 
 
 Thus eleven years of a life not very long in its whole 
 duration were spent in New Haven. An attachment to 
 Alma Mater, to the town of New Haven, and to Con 
 necticut itself, was formed, that lasted through life. He 
 
TUTOR AT NEW HAVEN. 17 
 
 was often heard to say, "My place was there. I always 
 wished that State to be my home, but Providence has 
 directed rny line of duty far away from the place of my 
 first affections." The limited salary of a clergyman, 
 and the large "family, more than usually thrown upon the 
 father s care, rarely allowed him the recreation of a jour 
 ney. Four years before his death, when the failing health 
 of one of his children seemed to impose it as a duty, a 
 journey to New Haven was a bright interval between the 
 cares of life, a season of uninterrupted cheerfulness. 
 The companion of that journey had till then never known 
 of what cheerfulness, even gayety, her father s spirits 
 were susceptible, as when expanding at the meeting of 
 old friends, renewing youthful reminiscences with class 
 mates, recalling half-forgotten college anecdotes, and re 
 viving all those care-free associations that make of college 
 days an oasis left in the far-off pathway of life. 
 
 Dr. Buckminster s whole residence at New Haven 
 was during the Presidency of Dr. Daggett. The coun 
 try was agitated by the intense excitement of the war of 
 the Revolution, and the College partook of the distress 
 that marked the beginning and progress of that fearful 
 conflict ; circumstances ill adapted to the quiet of literary 
 pursuits. Yet there was no period in the history of the 
 College more fruitful in eminent men in every department 
 of wisdom, and the classes of 1777 and 1778 were much 
 larger than those of the previous years, and contained a 
 large proportion of men distinguished in the councils of 
 the nation and famous in the annals of science. 
 
 During the time of his residence at New Haven, he 
 
 passed through a season of deep mental distress, under 
 
 conviction of his great sinfulness, and sank almost entirely 
 
 into a state of despair. In a person of such deep and 
 
 2* 
 
18 CONVERSION. 
 
 tender sensibility, his suffering must have been much ex 
 aggerated by his tendency to nervous depression ; and it 
 must always be difficult to discriminate how much of this 
 distress arises from the real state of the heart, and how 
 much from the imagination and a morbid self-condemna 
 tion. The mysteries of the soul must be left to be 
 judged by the great Source of all spiritual illumination. 
 In the words of a contemporary, "As he obtained a glo 
 rious hope, and passed from death to life, he determined 
 to consecrate his time, his talents, and his acquirements 
 to the interest and cause of the Redeemer. He read 
 the whole of Turretinus in the original, with great satis 
 faction "; and it was then that he drew up the confession 
 of faith and form of self-dedication that follows, and 
 decided to devote the whole strength of his mind to 
 preparing himself for that profession which became the 
 dearest object and the ultimate cause of the most intense 
 * devotion of his life. 
 
 I seem almost to wrong Dr. Buckminster in saying 
 that the ministry was his profession. It was his life. 
 The cause of his Master was his own cause. He con 
 sidered the office of a minister, a preacher of the word 
 of life, the most honorable in the world ; and that the 
 learning, the talents, the acquirements of the most gifted 
 minds were all too little to be devoted to its interests. 
 To spend and be spent in the cause of religion were 
 words often in his mouth, and the most devoted purpose 
 of his life. His religious convictions and his religious 
 studies resulted in the following form of faith, as the 
 reader will perceive, wholly Calvinistic. At the time 
 when he settled at Portsmouth, it was not asked if a min 
 ister were orthodox, but only if he were sincere and 
 devout. There is some reason to believe, that, at the 
 
FORM OF RELIGIOUS FAITH. 
 
 time he settled, or soon afterward, his views were some 
 what modified ; but like his honored predecessor whom 
 he immediately succeeded, "hisjheart was of no sect." 
 
 " I believe that there is a God, subsisting in three persons, 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, possessing all perfection ; infi 
 nitely holy, just, wise, and powerful ; true, gracious, and com 
 passionate ; in whom alone every thing that is amiable and 
 lovely centres, and from whom the happiness of reasonable 
 creatures must proceed. That this God made all worlds, and 
 rules and governs them by his power and providence, so that 
 the smallest event does not happen but by his permission. 
 That he brought man into being, formed after his image, and 
 capable of knowing and loving and enjoying God, and of ren 
 dering him that honor and glory which was his due. That 
 God entered into covenant with this first man, and, in him, 
 with his posterity : the conditions of this covenant were, that, 
 if he continued in his allegiance, and abstained from the fruit 
 of a particular tree, (which was denied him as a test of his 
 obedience,) he and his posterity should be confirmed in life ; 
 but that the day he ate thereof he should surely die, he, 
 and his posterity in him. 
 
 " But man broke this covenant, and exposed himself and 
 his posterity to the threatened punishment, lost the original 
 rectitude of his nature, and became the instrument of com 
 municating a corrupt nature to his descendants. In this 
 state God might have left him to suffer the wages of his folly. 
 But God, who exalted himself to show mercy, having from 
 all eternity chosen some of this fallen race to salvation, 
 through sanctification of the spirit and belief of the truth, did 
 disclose a way in which his broken law might be repaired, 
 his justice satisfied, and the offenders saved ; (but, as a God 
 was offended, so a God must suffer.) The second person in 
 the sacred Three, the eternal Son of God, voluntarily offered 
 to stand in man s stead, and suffer the punishment which he 
 
20 FORM OF RELIGIOUS FAITH. 
 
 had merited. He is accepted by the Father, and, upon con 
 dition that he satisfied the demands of justice, it was prom 
 ised that he should bring those to the enjoyment of God who 
 were from all eternity chosen by him. 
 
 " I believe that this Divine person, when the time appoint 
 ed came, descended to this world, took human nature, and 
 was born of the Virgin Mary, without sin. That he perfect 
 ly obeyed the law of God, and, suffering the penalty of man s 
 sin, was crucified by the Jews ; that he died, was buried, and 
 on the third day rose again, and ascended into heaven ; re 
 ceived the approbation of his Father, and is seated at his right 
 hand. 
 
 " I believe that this same Jesus shall come again to judge 
 the world, attended with his holy angels, and that all those 
 that have ever lived, together with those who shall be then 
 found alive, shall be summoned before his bar, to receive 
 according to the deeds done in the body. And, according 
 as they are found to have accepted the mercy offered in 
 the Gospel, and have thereby become interested in the right 
 eousness of Christ, or to have despised this mercy and ob 
 tained no interest in this righteousness, so they shall be re 
 ceived to everlasting happiness, or be thrust down to ever 
 lasting misery, in the place where the worm dieth not and 
 the fire is not quenched. 
 
 " I believe that all mankind are naturally in a state of 
 death ; that they have an aversion to God and his law ; that 
 the seeds of evil lie in the heart, and that it is owing to the 
 restraining grace of God that they do not break forth in 
 gross acts of impiety; that unless man is recovered from 
 this state, and his temper and disposition entirely changed, 
 he never can see the kingdom of God. 
 
 " I believe that man is absolutely unable to produce this 
 change ; that it is the work of the Spirit to renew and change 
 the heart, to bring sin to remembrance, and to discover to 
 the mind its deformity and lead to godly sorrow, which works 
 
FORM OF RELIGIOUS FAITH. 21 
 
 repentance unto life, never to be repented of: yet it is the 
 duty of all persons to strive to obtain this change, and wait 
 upon God in all his institutions; as it is in this way that 
 grace is most commonly bestowed, faith coming by hearing, 
 and hearing by the word of God. 
 
 " I believe that it is by faith alone that we become inter 
 ested in the righteousness of Christ, and entitled to the bene 
 fits of his purchase ; that this faith is the gift of God, and 
 not given on account of any merit in the recipient, but of the 
 free mercy and grace of God ; and that this faith does not 
 entitle to salvation on account of any merit that there is in 
 it: the righteousness of Christ is the only ground of justifica 
 tion, and the meritorious cause of our acceptance with God ; 
 but this faith is the means of our becoming interested in this 
 righteousness, and a qualification that must be found in us in 
 order to our being accepted. 
 
 "I believe that those who are once savingly illumined, and 
 brought home to God by his blessed Spirit, and have been 
 led to embrace Christ in the arms of faith, and love and trust 
 his merits for their pardon, justification, and complete salva 
 tion, shall never fail of it ; but He that hath begun a good 
 work in them shall carry it on till the day of judgment, nor 
 shall any thing pluck them out of his hand. 
 
 " I believe that God is willing to receive into covenant with 
 him all those who have been his enemies, and who, like the 
 prodigal son, have spent their living in riot and debauchery, 
 if they sincerely repent, hate their former conduct, and turn 
 unto God with their whole heart. Whosoever cometh unto 
 me, saith our Saviour, I will in no wise cast out. 
 
 " Under a full and firm persuasion of these things, I, who 
 acknowledge myself the greatest of sinners, having offended 
 my Maker, reproached my Redeemer, and grieved his Holy 
 Spirit, yet knowing that God delighteth not in the death of a 
 sinner, but would rather that he should turn from his wicked 
 way and live, forsake his own thoughts, and turn unto the 
 
22 FORM OF RELIGIOUS FAITH. 
 
 Lord, who hath promised that he will have mercy, and to our 
 God, who will abundantly pardon, desiring to rely upon the 
 great propitiatory sacrifice through the Lord Jesus Christ for 
 acceptance, I would now in the most solemn manner, in 
 the presence of God and of the holy angels, dedicate and de 
 vote myself to God with all that he hath been pleased to be 
 stow upon me, or shall permit me hereafter to enjoy, know 
 ing that other lords have had dominion over me, and that 
 I have served other gods. I desire now to renounce them 
 all and avow the Lord Jehovah, the Father, Son, and Holy 
 Ghost, to be my God and portion ; giving myself up to the 
 Father, as my Creator, who gave me every thing I pos 
 sess, who hath watched over me all my life, and with a lib 
 eral hand hath dispensed his favors, praying that he would 
 consecrate to himself all the ability I have to serve him, 
 whether natural or acquired. I would give myself up to the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, as to my glorious and exalted Redeemer, 
 through whom alone there is hope of salvation, and, renoun 
 cing all my own works as filthy rags, would trust solely and 
 entirely to his righteousness as the meritorious cause of my 
 justification and acceptance with God ; in which I hope to 
 be interested by its being freely imputed to me, which God 
 of his own mercy shall be pleased to bestow upon me. I 
 would give up myself to the Holy Ghost, as my sanctifier, 
 enabling me to hate, loathe, and abhor sin, and to flee from it, 
 shunning the least appearance of evil. I would give up my 
 self to the sacred Three in One, and One in Three, as to that 
 Being who has the sole right and title to me. I would re 
 ceive the word of God as the rule of my conduct, and believe 
 whatever God hath said, though it be above my comprehen 
 sion, knowing that what God hath said is true, though finite 
 capacity cannot say how. I would trust to God for spiritual 
 illumination, that I may be able to understand spiritual things, 
 and to receive instruction from him with respect to what I 
 ought to believe and practise. 
 
NERVOUS DEPRESSION. 23 
 
 " Knowing my proneness to transgress and disobey the 
 commands of God, the temptations that attend me, both with 
 in and without, from my own wicked heart and the subtle 
 adversary of souls, I would exercise all watchfulness over 
 myself, but trust solely to the Captain of my salvation to 
 secure me from falling, to enable me to conquer all my 
 spiritual enemies, and to resolve, by his grace assisting me, 
 I will maintain a constant fight with every indwelling cor 
 ruption, and walk in all the commandments and ordinances 
 of the Lord, and place a double guard against those sins to 
 which I am most inclined. 
 
 " And now, O that the merciful God, who is a God of 
 compassion, and who delighteth not in the death of a sinner, 
 would accept of me as his unworthy servant, and make me 
 one of his family ; grant me the spirit of adoption, and ratify 
 in heaven what I have attempted to do on earth ; make me 
 sincere and steadfast in this covenant, that this transaction 
 may be remembered with joy and not with regret, when I 
 shall stand before his righteous tribunal ! Then may it not 
 be an aggravating circumstance in my condemnation that I 
 have dealt deceitfully with God, or forgotten this covenant 
 of my youth. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 It was at this period of Dr. Buckminster s life that he 
 suffered the first attack of mental despondency, a form 
 of nervous disease which followed him at intervals, with 
 greater or less severity, through the whole of his life. 
 This moral depression, or spiritual darkness, often whol 
 ly unattended by mental delusion, which has been thought 
 to be occasioned by gloomy views of religion, is now 
 universally admitted by men of medical science to be 
 induced by some impenetrable derangement of the del 
 icate structure of the nerves. Religion, which should 
 ever be the fountain of joy and happiness, is relieved 
 
24 NERVOUS DEPRESSION. 
 
 from the unjust suspicion of being the parent of gloom 
 and melancholy. 
 
 Such disease is now better understood than it was fifty 
 years ago, but it still defies the scrutiny of the most saga 
 cious science, and the alleviation of the most tender hu 
 manity. The mind and the body partake equally of the 
 depression ; the former loses its energy, and the latter 
 becomes emaciated and weak. But, while the delusion 
 of imaginary infirmity is so strong, the patient is often 
 relieved by the reality. A serious attack of illness, or 
 a certain degree of criminality, could it be attached to 
 the conscience, would alleviate the imaginary ills of the 
 victim ; but alas ! this insidious enemy preys upon con 
 sciences of the purity of childhood, and health often 
 robust and vigorous. The imagination usually fixes upon 
 personal unworthiness, and exaggerates venial offences 
 into the darkest crimes, charging the innocent con 
 science with every species of offence, with every imag 
 inable sin, till it is persuaded of its irreparable condition. 
 To them, the door of pardon is for ever closed ; hope 
 never comes to them, that comes to all beside. At the 
 same time, the victim s demands upon himself are of the 
 most inexorable severity, while the will is prostrate and 
 powerless to perform, and, the imagination cruelly excited 
 at the disparity between the demand and the performance, 
 the reason sinks before it, and the victim is overwhelmed 
 with despair. At this stage of the disease, he can see 
 no relief but in death, upon which the most timid spirit 
 often rushes with frantic eagerness. The young, whose 
 prospects are cloudless, and upon whose life has fallen 
 no shade of sorrow, are often the prey of this nameless 
 misery. Let them, if possible, not despair. Time, the 
 healer of the heaviest real sorrows, is no less merciful in 
 
NERVOUS DEPRESSION. 25 
 
 his ministrations to the wounded spirit ; and the time will 
 assuredly come, when they will look back upon this afflic 
 tion as upon the morning clouds that have rolled away 
 and left the dew of their youth bright upon them. 
 
 Cowper, from his exquisite gifts and the singular puri 
 ty of his life, has been the most prominent example of 
 this unhappy malady ; and experience has shown, that 
 the most delicate organizations, consciences of the most 
 tender susceptibility, whose purity has never been stained 
 by an unjust deed or a guilty thought, are the most liable 
 to this fear of personal unworthiness, that will shut them 
 for ever from the presence of God. 
 
 In Cowper, as in many others, the innocent and tender 
 spirit was entangled in the sombre and gloomy tenets that 
 have been engrafted upon the mild and love-speaking 
 doctrines of Jesus, and from this reason, perhaps, religion, 
 or a certain form of religious faith, has been assigned as 
 the unhappy cause of this form of nervous disease ; but 
 every form of faith may be equally charged, and equally 
 exonerated from the charge. The Catholic, who in 
 vests his confessor or his saint with the responsibility of his 
 conscience, the Unitarian, and the Universalist have 
 no immunity from the delusions of the imagination, or the 
 dominion of this giant of despair. Appeals to the reason 
 and to the conscience, the soothing voice of friendship 
 and love, the administration of the tenderest consolations, 
 do but strengthen the bands of their wretchedness. Let 
 not these delusions of the afflicted spirit be charged upon 
 any form of that blessed religion whose spirit in all its 
 applications is the consoler and strengthener of the heart 
 of man. 
 
 3 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 DR. BUCKMINSTER S SETTLEMENT IN PORTSMOUTH, NEW HAMP 
 SHIRE. REMINISCENCES OF THE PISCATAQUA ASSOCIA 
 TION OF MINISTERS. THEIR MEETINGS. MISSION A 51 V 
 
 MAGAZINE. PRAYER-BOOK FOR THE USE OF FAMILIES. 
 
 HAVING received a unanimous invitation from the 
 parish, Dr. Buckminster was ordained over the North 
 Church in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, January 27. 
 1779. He succeeded two distinguished pastors, Drs. 
 Langdon and Stiles, who had been successively removed 
 to become presidents, the one of Harvard, the oilier of 
 Yale College. They were both remarkable men, and 
 Dr. Stiles, the immediate predecessor of Dr. Buckmin 
 ster, was one of the most learned scholars in the country. 
 In the words of Dr. Channing, " This country has not. 
 perhaps, produced a more learned man, and his virtues 
 were proportioned to his intellectual acquisitions. In his 
 faith he was a moderate Calvinist ; but his heart was of 
 no sect. He carried into his religion the spirit of liberty 
 that then stirred the whole country." In some respects. 
 it must have been a great advantage to have had such 
 predecessors, but it must also have taxed all the energies 
 of mind and heart of the young pastor to fill the place. 
 to sustain the rank and to meet the expectations of a 
 parish accustomed to the ministrations of these honored 
 men. Dr. Stiles was, besides, fifty years old when 
 
SETTLEMENT IN PORTSMOUTH. 27 
 
 installed at Portsmouth, and had been a settled pastor 
 at Newport twenty-two years. Mr. Buckminster was 
 twenty-eight, and the previous eleven years had been 
 ^pent in the seclusion of a college life. 
 
 Portsmouth had always been distinguished by its liber 
 ality of spirit, and its generosity to its ministers. Before 
 Dr. Stiles arrived among them, the parish had thoroughly 
 furnished a good house for his reception. He remained 
 scarcely a year, and the young pastor, being single, need 
 ed no such expensive preparation ; but he was received 
 with a warmth that soon rose to enthusiasm. He was 
 endowed with natural gifts that eminently fitted him for 
 the pulpit. His voice was strong and musical, and pos 
 sessed the peculiarity that its lowest tones were singularly 
 clear, and could be distinctly heard in the remotest cor 
 ner of the vast meeting-house, with its two galleries. He 
 took a prominent part in the singing. His voice could 
 always be distinguished in the full choir by its purity and 
 bell-like, silver sound ; and he delighted, in the absence 
 of the ladies of the choir, to take the contralto part. 
 His appearance in the pulpit was most dignified and 
 graceful ; and when we add to the fervor and glow of his 
 devotions, that his whole manner was penetrated by a 
 peculiar pathos, a deep feeling, that ijjumined his counte 
 nance and trembled in the earnestness of his voice, it is 
 not surprising that no one who ever saw him in the pulpit 
 could forget the impression he made. There, too, was 
 his chief joy, his most exhilarating duty. "He prefer 
 red the dust of Zion to the gardens of Persia, and the 
 broken walls of Jerusalem to the palaces of Shushan." 
 There were many circumstances connected with his 
 settlement in Portsmouth that were important to his use : 
 fulness, and agreeable in their influence ; others, that de- 
 
28 PISCATAQUA ASSOCIATION 
 
 termined the color of his life and wove the whole web of 
 his joys and sorrows. Among the former was the char 
 acter of the surrounding ministers, with whom many of 
 his social hours were spent, and who, in the language of 
 sympathy, "strengthened his hands and encouraged his 
 heart." In this connection, we must speak of the Pis- 
 cataqua Association of Ministers, of whom it has lately 
 been said, that " they were almost all of them picked 
 men ; such as now would only be found in metropolitan 
 parishes. They were sufficient, each of himself, to give 
 a name and a character to the town which enjoyed his 
 services, and to attract to his parsonage the most distin 
 guished men in every walk of life." The same eloquent 
 writer adds, that " they solved in practice the problem 
 of which the key is now lost, that of harmony of spirit 
 and cordial cooperation amongst ministers of widely dif 
 ferent creeds." * They were, indeed, what they called 
 each other, a band of " brothers." The above remarks 
 were no doubt made with some reference to the state of 
 the country, the estimation in which ministers were held, 
 and the influence they exerted in the last century. There 
 is, no doubt, a much higher degree of intellectual culture 
 among ministers at the present day, but the range of 
 country in which the u Piscataqua Association " was 
 found had a much greater relative importance at that 
 time ; and in some instances the ministers were deemed 
 fit for more brilliant stations. The singular fact, that four 
 of the "Piscataqua Association" were chosen to be 
 presidents of colleges, proves that they were appreciated ; 
 -Dr. Langdon and Dr. Stiles, Dr. Appleton, and Dr. 
 
 * Rev. A. P. Peabody, of Portsmouth, in the Christian Examiner 
 for May, 1848, Vol. IX. No. III., Fourth Series. 
 
OF MINISTERS. 29 
 
 Stevens, of Kittery Point. The latter was chosen by 
 the Fellows of Harvard College in 1769, but being sus 
 pected of a leaning to the mother country in the approach 
 ing contest, the appointment was not confirmed by the 
 Overseers. 
 
 The monthly meetings of the Association were sea 
 sons of really cordial fellowship, and of social and animat 
 ed intercourse, and were made the medium of religious 
 instruction to their respective parishes. Their usual 
 course was to meet successively at each brother s house 
 at ten o clock in the forenoon ; those who lived at the 
 distance of ten or fifteen miles, in those days of slow 
 travelling and country roads, were obliged to come the 
 previous evening. There was a religious service in the 
 meeting-house, beginning at eleven, at which the exer 
 cises were assigned in rotation, or were appointed by the 
 brother at whose house they met. The dinner, after 
 wards, was a truly social repast, where wit, and freedom, 
 and a moderate degree of gayety prevailed. Clergymen, 
 when their labors are over, enjoy more entirely than any 
 other class of men the agreeable relaxation that follows, 
 agreeable in kind, in its allowances, and in its restraints. 
 
 It must not be supposed that the demands of twelve 
 or eighteen ministers and their horses upon their broth 
 er s oats, and upon the exertions of the family to prepare 
 a suitable dinner, were either light or trifling. In the 
 writer s recollection, the festival of ministers meeting 
 holds the same honorable place as to sumptuousness and 
 variety of viands with the more rare ordination or the 
 annual thanksgiving ; and I believe the wives of the min 
 isters used devoutly to pray that their meeting might 
 not be in the winter. 
 
 Of the older members of the Association, Drs. Ste- 
 3* 
 
30 PISCATAQUA ASSOCIATION 
 
 vens, Haven, and M Clintock, only a faint and indistinct 
 image remains in the memory of the writer. Of the 
 others, it is not invidious to say that Dr. Appleton, after 
 wards President of Bowdoin College, and Mr. Buck- 
 minster were the animating soul. Nearly all the others 
 were obliged, like Paul, from the inadequacy of their 
 support from their parishes, to labor with their hands at 
 some other calling. The manse of each was the home 
 of all, and in those days, when the door was fastened only 
 with a simple latch, the situation of the prophet s chamber 
 was so familiar to the feet of the brethren, that, if one 
 arrived after the family had retired for the night, he found 
 his way to it, and the first indication the family had of a 
 guest was his appearance at breakfast the next morning. 
 In nearly all of them there was a marked individuality 
 of character that would have furnished rich materials for 
 the pen of Scott. The Rev. Joseph Litchfield was set 
 tled over a little village of fishermen, and his appearance, 
 at least, was that of a pilot who had weathered a hun 
 dred storms. He was welcome to every fireside for the 
 quaint and graphic simplicity of his language, and emi 
 nently liked in the pulpit by the younger members of the 
 family for the extreme brevity of his sermons ; which 
 sermons were always begun and finished by lamp-light on 
 Saturday evening. The praise of brevity could not be 
 given to the sermons of the Rev. Huntington Porter, 
 from Rye, close upon the sea. There was an aridity 
 in the sermons and in the aspect of the preacher, that 
 bore as strong a resemblance to the sand upon the sea 
 shore as the Rev. Mr. Litchfield s did to the calling of 
 his flock. They were both like those wholesome fruit? 
 whose mellow and sweet qualities are covered with a 
 rough and husky rind. Mr. Litchfield s prayers, made 
 
OF MINISTERS. 31 
 
 up of quotations of the highly figurative language of 
 Scripture, never varied ; if he had been cut short in any 
 part of them, the youngest of his hearers could have taken 
 up the strain and gone on to the end. 
 
 Those ministers who were settled in the parishes upon 
 the borders of the sea, whose hearers were part fisher 
 men, part agriculturists, were eminently practical men ; 
 they were teachers and pioneers for both worlds, and 
 they seemed to enjoy " the blessings of heaven above, and 
 the blessing of the deep that lieth under ; the dew of the 
 mountains, and the riches of the deep that coucheth be 
 neath "; for many of them died comparatively rich, even 
 in the goods of this world. 
 
 There is an anecdote told of one of the Piscataqua 
 Association, who, addressing a society of fishermen, 
 wished to adapt his discourse to the understanding of his 
 hearers. He inquired, " Supposing, in a northeast* 
 storm, you should be taken short in the bay, your hearts 
 trembling with fear, and nothing but death before you, 
 whither would your thoughts turn ? to whom would you 
 fly ? " One of the hearers, arrested by the description, 
 cried out, " Why, in that case, I should hoist the fore 
 sail and scud away for Squam." 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Chandler, of Elliot, taught his parish 
 how to turn the waste places, literally, into a garden, and 
 to make the desert blossom as the rose. He was the . 
 first who supplied the Portsmouth market with vegeta 
 bles. He taught the women to be the best of husband- 
 mew, to work double tides, with the hoe and the oar ; 
 and withal, he contrived to bring an unusual degree of 
 refinement for the time and place into his parish, and to 
 cultivate the best affections of his people. The moral 
 soil kept pace with the natural, and while this portion of 
 
32 PISCATAQUA ASSOCIATION 
 
 the shores of the Piscataqua was distinguished for its 
 deeper verdure, its richer foliage, the people were re- 
 markahle for the courtesy of their manners and the hon 
 esty of their dealings. The wives of the fishermen were 
 the market-women of Portsmouth. There was a small 
 market-house where they assembled after having made 
 fast the boats which they rowed with their own hands, 
 and then dispersed themselves, with their wares, through 
 the town. 
 
 There were families that had been furnished by the 
 selfsame women long years, from blooming youth to 
 wrinkled age, with eggs, berries, chickens, spun yarn, 
 knitted stockings, &c., coming as regularly as the Satur 
 day came, till a bond of mutual dependence was formed ; 
 and the familiar face that had been comely in youth con 
 tinued to them the same, although to strangers it assumed 
 the witch-like appearance of Meg Merrilies. 
 
 One more of the Association, so familiar and honored 
 in the youth of the writer, shall be mentioned. The Rev. 
 Jacob Abbot, of Hampton Falls, was a man of extreme 
 sensibility, and of an inequality of temperament which sub 
 jected him to alternate seasons of dejection and exhilara 
 tion. His countenance immediately betrayed which state 
 of feeling predominated, and all his services, even in the 
 pulpit, partook of the variableness of his temperament. 
 He was dear to children and young people, from the 
 tender and familiar interest he felt in their improvement. 
 He was always a welcome guest, from his delicate fear 
 of giving trouble ; and as he continued a more intimate 
 intercourse with Massachusetts, and the literary and polite 
 world there, than some others of the Association, his 
 conversation was more rich and varied, and more enter 
 taining to the young. 
 
OF MINISTERS. 33 
 
 As has been said above, these ministers differed wide 
 ly in their religious views ; between the two extremes of 
 the strict Calvinist and the believer in universal salva 
 tion was included among them every shade of Protestant 
 faith. Although their opinions were freely discussed in 
 these meetings, they do not appear in any offensive 
 prominence in the two publications they put forth, the 
 Missionary Magazine and the Piscataqua Prayer- Book, 
 but were merged in the great object of their writing and 
 their preaching, to turn sinners to God by faith in Jesus 
 Christ, and to produce virtuous and holy lives. 
 
 The Piscataqua Missionary Magazine was a boon in 
 their families. Like the new year s almanac, it was read 
 from the first page to the last, most gratefully, if it 
 contained an " entertaining anecdote " ; and news of even 
 missionary proceedings was read with avidity, at a time 
 when there was no yellow, nor blue, nor brown-covered 
 literature to fill up the Sunday hours that were not spent 
 in the sanctuary. 
 
 The other publication was " A Prayer-Book for the 
 Use of Families," in which the address to heads of fami 
 lies was written by Dr. Buckminster. There is in this 
 such a remarkable absence of sectarianism, and such a 
 unity of spirit, that all the prayers seem to have proceeded 
 from one mind and one heart, together with a simplicity of 
 faith and expression that could be understood by a child. 
 
 The remarks that have been made touching the una 
 nimity of feeling in the Piscataqua Association must be 
 understood to refer to the close of the last century, be 
 fore the critical study of the Scriptures had introduced 
 diversity of opinion upon the subject of the Trinity. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PORTSMOUTH. PECULIARITY IN ITS EARLY SETTLEMENT 
 
 AND IN ITS SOCIETY. ITS WEALTH. PERSONAL RECOL 
 LECTIONS. MRS. TAPPAN, DR. BUCKMINSTER s SISTER. 
 
 PORTSMOUTH from its foundation presented a state of 
 society unlike that of any other place in New England. 
 It was not settled from motives of religion, but for pur 
 poses of trade. Possessing one of the most beautiful 
 localities, of intermingled land and water, its advantages 
 of harbour and fishing-ground presented an alluring pros 
 pect to persons wishing to gain fortunes and to enjoy 
 life. A well-authenticated anecdote shows that the in 
 habitants themselves would not hypocritically appropriate 
 to themselves the praise of being a religious society. A 
 reverend divine, preaching to them against the depravity 
 of the times, said, " You have forsaken the pious habits 
 of your forefathers, who left the ease and comfort they 
 possessed in their native land, and came to this howling 
 wilderness, to enjoy the exercise of their religion and a 
 pure worship." One of the congregation rose and said, 
 u Sir, you entirely mistake the matter : our ancestors 
 did not come here on account of their religion, but to 
 fish and trade." 
 
 The settlement, the government, and the prevailing 
 tone of society were different from most of the New 
 England towns. There was no Puritanism in the early 
 
PORTSMOUTH. 35 
 
 religion of the place. The settlers of Portsmouth re 
 tained their attachment to the English Church. Their 
 first worship was Episcopalian, with service-books, has 
 socks, glebe-land, and manse. Even after ihe union 
 with Massachusetts, the law that to be a freeman one 
 must be a church-member was dispensed with. The 
 air that blew so freely over the purple waves of the Pis- 
 cataqua * was truly the air of freedom. There was no 
 persecution for religions opinions in Portsmouth. The 
 wolf s head, that was nailed on the meeting-house door, 
 did not indicate the spirit that spoke within. f 
 
 The clergy had little or no influence beyond that which 
 character gave them. The first Congregational min 
 ister, and there was no one of that denomination settled 
 till 1671, was prosecuted and imprisoned by Governor 
 Cranfield because he refused to administer the commun 
 ion according to the form of the English Church. The 
 Governor had no design to make the church Episcopalian, 
 but sought this mode of revenging himself upon the min 
 ister, who had ofTended him ; and four out of six of the 
 judges concurred in the sentence. Could such a thing 
 have taken place, under like circumstances, with a Wil 
 son or a Cotton ? 
 
 Puritanism had little influence in forming the charac 
 ter of Portsmouth. The people were impulsive and en 
 thusiastic ; easily excited to rejoicings, which they de 
 monstrated with great splendor and extravagance. They 
 were little given to days of fasting and prayer. When 
 the news and the agent of the Stamp Act arrived in Ports- 
 
 * Every one who has lived at Portsmouth must recollect the pecu 
 liar steely color of the river. 
 
 t In those early times, every one who killed a wolf nailed his head 
 upon the meeting-house door, and received five pound? reward from 
 the government. 
 
36 PECULIARITIES IN THE 
 
 mouth, instead of appointing a day of fasting, they had 
 what turned out to be a joyous procession and jubilee. 
 It began indeed with mourning. The bells were tolled, 
 and a funeral cortege formed, bearing a coffin with the 
 inscription, u Liberty, aged 145 years." This was 
 carried, with many ceremonies, to the grave. But as 
 the news of the repeal had arrived before the day that 
 the act was to go into operation, Liberty was rescued 
 before it was buried, and carried off by its sons in 
 triumph. Magazines of refreshments were provided at 
 the corners of the streets, and all ended with a dinner 
 and a ball. Indeed, in almost all celebrations of public 
 events, instead of a sermon, there was a ball ; instead of 
 days of fasting in Portsmouth, all public demonstrations 
 of feeling ended with a feast. 
 
 There was no parsimony in Portsmouth. The liber 
 ality of the town in its early days was shown in valuable 
 donations to every institution of public utility, and in a 
 most generous grant of four hundred pounds to Harvard 
 College. The salaries of their earliest ministers were 
 generous. To the rector, one hundred and thirty pounds, 
 with glebe-land and parsonage, and the donations from 
 strangers ; that is, the money laid upon the plate, which, 
 in those early times, w r as placed in some conspicuous 
 part of the meeting-house, and not needed by any poor 
 persons. 
 
 There were large fortunes made in Portsmouth, and 
 the inhabitants imitated in splendor of living the mother 
 country. Governor Wentworth, a man of most brilliant 
 talents and accomplishments, with his enlarged views, re 
 fined tastes, and elegant manners, with the means also 
 of expense, receiving as he did a large salary,* set the 
 
 * His salary, besides his house-rent and farm, was fourteen hundred 
 pounds. A large sum previous to the Revolution. 
 
SOCIETY OF PORTSMOUTH. 37 
 
 example of social entertainments, and promoted every 
 elegant amusement. There were more private carriages 
 and livery servants in Portsmouth, in proportion to the 
 number of inhabitants, than in any other place in New 
 England. Even as late as the end of the last century, 
 the writer can recollect scattered remnants of the for 
 mer splendor. Within the old meeting-house, ancient, 
 venerable forms loom out of the distant dimness, ar 
 rayed in all the splendor of the costume of the court of 
 George the Third. Immense wigs, white as snow, 
 coats trimmed with gold lace, embroidered waistcoats, 
 ruffles of delicate Mechlin lace worn by the rougher sex, 
 cocked hats and gold-headed canes, costumes that 
 would now be assumed for a masquerade, were scat 
 tered through the old meeting-house ; and then at the 
 church door were the chariots, with livery footmen be 
 hind, to take the delicate-footed gentlemen to their homes. 
 But these were only the broken and scattered remnants 
 of the old fabric of society, the preserved ornaments of 
 old-fashioned splendor. The real wealth of the town, 
 within the memory of the writer, was in the younger men, 
 the merchants, sons of the workingmen and of the min 
 isters of the preceding age. 
 
 There is no record remaining, accessible to the writer, 
 of Dr. Buckminster s ordination. He was unmarried, 
 and went immediately to board in the family of one of his 
 deacons, at this time consisting of a middle-aged, child 
 less couple. In the memory of the writer, as known at 
 a later period, they held so venerable and so peculiar an 
 aspect, that she would fain transfer a sketch of them to 
 her pages. They dwelt in a small, plain house, one little 
 parlour of ten feet square containing all that was requi 
 site for their comfort. The deacon himself tended a lit- 
 4 
 
38 SLIGHT SKETCHES OF 
 
 tie shop in front of the parlour, filled with needles, pins, 
 tape, quality-binding, snuff, that most common lux 
 ury, with a small pair of scales to weigh a copper s 
 worth. The deacon always wore a full suit of very light 
 drab broadcloth, with white cotton stockings and silver 
 knee-buckles, and a full-bottomed white horsehair wig, al 
 ways powdered. His exquisitely plaited cambric ruffles 
 were turned back while he was in the shop, under white 
 linen sleeves or cuffs, and a white linen apron preserved 
 the purity of the fine drab broadcloth. 
 
 His solitary mate sat in the little three-cornered par 
 lour, whose fireplace was an afterthought, and built into 
 the corner ; the bricks forming successive little shelves, 
 where various small things could be kept warm. There 
 she sat all day at her round table with needle-work, dress 
 ed in an old-fashioned brocade, with an exquisite lawn 
 handkerchief folded over it, and environed with a scrupu 
 lous neatness, where the litter of children s sports never 
 came. In the stoical childhood of the writer, it was a 
 blessed recreation to be permitted to go and drink tea 
 with the old-fashioned pair. The visiter sat upon the 
 stair that came down into the room, and observed the 
 process of making tea, when the bright copper kettle was 
 placed before the fire, and the waiter with small china cups 
 took the place of the work-basket upon the round table. 
 Then, as the evening shades gathered in that little room, 
 and the tea-kettle sang louder and louder, the mate of this 
 solitary nest came in from the shop. His white wig was 
 exchanged for a linen cap, the cuffs and the apron laid 
 aside, and the latchet of the silver shoe-buckle unloosed, 
 but not taken out. His place was also at another small 
 table, where were writing materials and the ledger of the 
 little establishment. 
 
FAMILIES IN PORTSMOUTH. 39 
 
 It was the proud office of the childish visiter to be 
 permitted to carry the smoking cup of tea across the 
 few steps that divided the tables without spilling a drop, 
 more than rewarded by the benignant smile, the cour 
 teous politeness, of the old gentleman. Yes, although he 
 sold snuff by the copper s worth, he was a true paladin, 
 chivalrous to his companion, whom he always called 
 " My love," while she addressed him by the plainer title 
 of cc > eighbour," obeying, no doubt, the injunction of 
 Scripture that she should love her neighbour as herself. 
 
 In this frugal, uniform, secluded manner, they passed 
 the evening of a life that had once been more eventful, 
 and with greater means of expense, and in retaining the 
 costume of better days, unsuited to the business of the 
 small shop, they retained what conduced to their own 
 unassuming self-respect. The old lady always folded 
 her work and closed her evening in the words of Dr. 
 Watts : 
 
 " I m tired of visits, modes, and forms, 
 And flatteries paid to fellow-worms ; 
 
 Their conversation cloys, 
 Their vain amours, and empty stuff; 
 But I can ne er enjoy enough 
 
 Of thy dear company." 
 
 In my childish simplicity, it seemed a beautiful compli 
 ment to her companion ; but as I now understand its sig 
 nificance, it seems almost a parody upon their quiet life. 
 Another family, which presents a contrast to the last, 
 appears in the magnifying memory of childhood with four 
 fold lustre, and their dwelling "like a palace in El Dorado, 
 overlaid with precious metal." And there, at the gate of 
 the palace, stood daily the chariot and the liveried ser 
 vants, and the lady came forth, stately, powdered, and, in 
 
40 SLIGHT SKETCHES OF 
 
 the thought of the humble child, too delicate to press the 
 rough earth with her foot ; and when she was seated, the 
 two liveried negroes stood behind, and thus the pageant 
 passed on. But all the barriers of ceremony were over 
 leaped when we were permitted to visit the great house ; 
 for there was the only daughter, the only child of the 
 house, but a few years older than ourself, lively, natural, 
 amiable, and generous, in all the fulness of a noble heart. 
 She was ready to instruct us in what she knew, and 
 ready to join in any game for our amusement. 
 
 Governor Langdon, of whose family I speak, and to 
 whose friendship I would pay a long-deferred but genuine 
 tribute, was one of the most faithful, where all were faith 
 ful, of Dr. Buckminster s parishioners. His daughter 
 endeared herself singularly to the affections of children. 
 The son of our family, of whom I shall presently speak, 
 was happy in receiving from her his first impressions of 
 the youthful feminine character. She was several years 
 older, and had seen much more of the world ; therefore 
 it was in her power to give him many valuable lessons, 
 to instruct him in politeness, and to watch his progress 
 in graceful manners and in deference to the society of 
 ladies. He repaid her with the warmest gratitude and 
 attachment ; and a friendship that began almost in his 
 infancy went on increasing to the last hour of his life. 
 
 Another, a middle group in the faithful and true pic 
 tures of a society long since passed away. This is the 
 family of a favorite physician, the dearly loved and trust 
 ed friend. He also wears a full suit of a rich brown 
 color, with cambric ruffles, silk stockings, and gold 
 buckles at his knees and shoes. His is a small wig, or 
 hair, curled and powdered at the sides, with a black silk 
 bag behind, a three-cornered hat, and a gold-headed cane. 
 
FAMILIES IN PORTSMOUTH. 41 
 
 As he picks his way, with quick, but careful steps, 
 through the muddy streets, his hat is completely off at 
 the meeting of every townsman, and every child is his 
 particular care. From all the fresh young lips of the 
 little girls, he takes a tribute as he passes ; they hold up 
 their rosy faces, charmed with the familiar courtesy of 
 the much-enduring man, and feeling richer for what they 
 have given. 
 
 Let us follow him to his home, where the exquisite 
 brightness of the old-fashioned andirons, the brilliant pol 
 ish of the furniture, the closely drawn curtains, give to 
 the modest apartment the charm of elegance, and some 
 thing even more home-like than elegance can impart. 
 The wife, a faithful picture of the olden time, calm, 
 stately, and lady-like, benignant and most lovable to 
 children, for she is herself childless, brings forth her 
 treasures of a yet more ancient time to charm the win 
 ter s evening. Another figure, dear to my childhood s 
 memory, must not be omitted, the grandmother of the 
 hostess, then nearly ninety, holding herself yet erect in 
 the easy-chair, with lawn hood, white as snow, plaited 
 closely round the silvery hair, that is folded back over 
 a cushion, a fashion almost as old as the first century of 
 the country. Beneath, the pale, calm, passionless face 
 of a beautiful old age, and the sightless eyes, claiming a 
 mysterious reverence from our young hearts. How 
 much of the past could I have learned from her, had I 
 known how to ask! 
 
 In connection with the societv in Portsmouth, as the 
 place where such a character could find her appropriate 
 sphere, and among the events that contributed greatly to 
 the happiness of Dr. Buckminster, should be mentioned 
 the residence in the same town, and near him, of his sis- 
 4* 
 
42 MRS. TAPPAX. 
 
 ter Isabella and her husband, Mr. Amos Tappan, who 
 was one of his most intimate personal friends, and for 
 some years the deacon of his parish. This sister Isa 
 bella, the youngest of the family, then about eighteen 
 years old, came to visit her brother soon after his mar 
 riage, and Providence so ordered that she remained the 
 constant sharer of his joys and sorrows, the efficient 
 friend, to him and to his children, through life, and not 
 widely divided from him in death. She followed her 
 brother in less than two years after his decease. 
 
 Mrs. Tappan was certainly one of the most remark 
 able, one of the most heroic (for heroism applies to moral 
 and religious principles as well as to heroic actions), of 
 which the last century, so fruitful in noble women, has 
 left us the example. Although she has passed away, 
 and there has been no record of her deeds on earth, yet 
 if we are permitted to believe that heaven is a place where 
 the good receive their reward in observing the happiness 
 of those they benefited on earth, there has she also met 
 her appropriate reward. 
 
 Mrs. Fry, Hannah More, and countless others, have 
 been celebrated and admired. God forbid that one leaf 
 should be shorn from the laurels that adorn their hon 
 ored names ; but they had the aid of fortune, of wealthy 
 and efficient friends, of constant applause, of increasing 
 fame, of royal approbation, and of a final reward in the 
 public gratitude of the nation. Mrs. Tappan wrought 
 for many years alone, with discouragement and illness on 
 her side, struggling constantly against a strong current 
 of worldliness and avarice. Let it be remembered, also, 
 that she begun and carried on her labors before philan 
 thropy had received an impulse from the spirit of the 
 age ; before charity-schools, associations, and benevolent 
 
HER CHARITY SCHOOLS. 
 
 43 
 
 societies had an existence ; and in a place, too, where no 
 fashion and no notoriety could attach to them. Her 
 husband, who fully participated in her benevolent plans, 
 and helped, after her decease, to carry them out, was 
 master of the grammar-school in Portsmouth, with a sal 
 ary never exceeding seven or eight hundred dollars. 
 With these small pecuniary means, her benevolent plans 
 were begun, carried on, and completed. With lion heart, 
 she did not hesitate to attack avarice in its stronghold. 
 With strong faith in the kindness of the human heart, 
 with persuasive eloquence and unusual pathos in pleading 
 the cause of the unfortunate, she approached the heart 
 and the hand shut close upon its gold ; and one by one 
 she unloosed the grasp of tl)3 fingers, and by degrees 
 melted the ice about the heart, and gained her purpose. 
 Her first object was the establishment of a charity- 
 school for poor girls, and connected with it a Sunday 
 school taught by young ladies enlisted by herself in this 
 service. These children were taken from the lowest 
 and most wretched class of society, were made re 
 spectable, and dressed in a neat uniform. Great was 
 her delight when she saw them all neatly arrayed by her 
 own exertions, and following their teachers to church, 
 where a sermon was preached in their behalf by her 
 brother, Dr. Buckminster, and a contribution taken. 
 This, it must be remembered, was in the very beginning 
 of the century, in 1803, before schools, especially Sun 
 day schools, were thought of in this country. Finding 
 these poor children still corrupted by the debasing influ 
 ences of their homes, she changed her plan, and almost 
 by her personal efforts alone established the Female 
 Asylum in Portsmouth for destitute children. This in 
 stitution met with much opposition, but was firmly sus- 
 
44 HER BENEVOLENT OBJECTS. 
 
 tained by her during her life. From causes whi -h can 
 not be here detailed, it failed in the ultimate benefit 
 expected from it. 
 
 She was herself childless, but her home never lacked 
 the cheerful voices and the kindly influences of young 
 and childlike natures. Had her house been large 
 enough, every motherless child would have found a home 
 within it. Three young relatives of her husband s fam 
 ily and her own were permanently adopted by them, and 
 received all the benefits of a paternal and religions home ; 
 and were educated to practise the self-denial and to value 
 the benevolent influences that formed the atmosphere by 
 which they were surrounded. As soon as her two adopt 
 ed daughters were old enough, they were enlisted in her 
 charitable forces, and helped to carry out her benevolent 
 plans. She had read of Sunday schools in England, and 
 was anxious to adopt them ; but she had yet a stronger 
 sentiment in favor of domestic religious instruction 
 where it could be obtained. The colored population 
 was very large at that time in Portsmouth, and, from the 
 prejudice against color, their children did not enjoy the 
 same privileges as others. Her benevolent heart keenly 
 felt this injustice, and she sent her adopted daughters to 
 collect the negro children in town, and to bring them to 
 her own house, where there was religious instruction for 
 them on the Sabbath ; to this was added a school every 
 afternoon in the week, in which they were taught sewing, 
 knitting, and reading. Both these schools were contin 
 ued by these young ladies for many years. This Sab- 
 . bath school was probably the first in New England. 
 It was carried on in a humble, noiseless manner. It was 
 scarcely known out of the street where she lived, and 
 the investigation that has taken place about the honor of 
 
HER BENEFICENCE TO THE POOR. 45 
 
 having instituted these useful schools has left this humble 
 one, and that, also, connected with the charity-school in 
 Portsim uth, wholly unmentioned. 
 
 It was not children alone that claimed her care. The 
 old, the neglected, the sorrowful, the deserted, the for 
 gotten, were all her children and the recipients of her 
 bounty. Every Sunday, some poor old creatures, weigh 
 ed down with infirmity, friendless, with none but her to 
 pity, w r ere invited to sit by the kitchen fire, and there a 
 good dinner of meat and pudding was carried to them by 
 herself from her table ; her kind voice, her sympathizing 
 eye, cheered them, and they were sent away refreshed 
 with the reflection that one friend at least cared for them. 
 Even the miserable inmates of the almshouse were in 
 vited to her cheerful table, not merely to be cheered by 
 a good dinner, but to be refreshed with the Christian sym 
 pathy of a heart alive to every impulse of humanity. 
 This was not all. Her visits to the poor and afflicted 
 were the daily doings, the constant duties and cares of 
 the week. She sent her adopted children, and some 
 times her nieces, to search out the victims of want and 
 misfortune ; the highways and the hedges were explored ; 
 and all were included in that comprehensive charity 
 where the only claim was suffering and sorrow. 
 
 All this was accomplished by one who w r as more than 
 a third of the time prostrate on a bed of suffering. She 
 was subject to severe nervous headache, that, after some 
 hours of acute suffering, was only relieved by opiates 
 and sleep. While convalescent, she was planning her 
 disinterested labors, which, the moment ease returned, 
 were resumed and pursued with new ardor, before the 
 return of another attack of pain. To use the beautiful 
 words of another, " she seemed an angel ever on the 
 
46 HER SYMPATHY WITH THE SICK. 
 
 wing, leaving a path of light and love behind her." Her 
 noble, generous soul seemed to act from the instinct of 
 beneficence. Tt was not necessary for her to pause. 
 She felt that she was right. Her husband sometimes said, 
 u Should we not stop to investigate our motives more 
 fully, before we undertake a new experiment." She 
 would answer, "I must not stop. I must act. Let 
 motives take care of themselves ; for while I am deliber 
 ating, some poor creature may be perishing for lack of 
 aid." With all this active charity, she was an angel of 
 comfort and consolation by the bed of sickness, and in 
 the chambers of the dying. She brought with her when 
 she entered a calming, soothing power. Her cheerful 
 countenance, her bright srnile, and active step, when she 
 entered the chamber of sickness, seemed instantly to 
 banish anxiety and despondency. The writer of this 
 imperfect sketch well remembers, that, with the sensitive 
 feelings of childhood and the anxious fears of ignorance, 
 sha sympathized too keenly when sickness and sorrow 
 were in the family ; but the moment this valued relative 
 entered the chamber, a weight was lifted from her spirits. 
 " All will now be well " was whispered to her heart, and 
 the sunshine returned to her breast. It is a peculiar facul 
 ty, a direct gift of nature, with which a few favored beings 
 are endowed, thus to be the aids and comforters of 
 others. 
 
 As the mind of Mrs. Tappan was occupied with great 
 plans of benevolence, she did not therefore neglect the 
 smallest effort ; the cup of cold water was never forgot 
 ten. Amon; small aids for doing good was that of ap 
 propriating a room in her house to the use of a destitute, 
 lonely widow, whose only occupation was making over 
 old clothes, and repairing flannels and woollens, for the 
 
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 47 
 
 benefit of those who had none. When the materials 
 failed, she spun and knit yarn into stockings for the 
 poor. Bed-spreads and comforters were here quilted, 
 that had been sewed together from the smallest scraps at 
 her daughters charity schools. Here, too, young ladies 
 were invited to come, with thimble and needle, to spend 
 a cheerful .afternoon, leaving, as the result of their labors, 
 garments for her destitute poor, and fully repaid by her 
 own cheerful and animated conversation. 
 
 But her active and benevolent spirit received a new 
 impulse after the publication of Buchanan s and other 
 missionary works. She threw all the ardor of her soul 
 and all the energies of her mind into the cause of mis 
 sions. The rich were called upon to give, the young to 
 aid with their labors, and her own days and nights were 
 devoted to writing and to the diffusion of missionary in 
 formation. A new spirit was awakened in the country, 
 and young men rushed from the plough and the work 
 bench to schools and academies, to obtain the requisite 
 knowledge, in order to depart as missionaries to heathen 
 lands. The beautiful hymn of Bishop Heber fired them 
 with new zeal in the cause : 
 
 " From Greenland s icy mountains, 
 
 From India s coral strand, 
 Where Afric s sunny fountains 
 
 Roll down their golden sand, 
 From many an ancient river, 
 
 From many a palmy plain, 
 They call us to deliver 
 
 Their land from error s chain." 
 
 The call was obeyed. The young missionaries were 
 welcomed by her and her husband to their hospitable 
 roof; their wants supplied, their wardrobes repaired, 
 
48 MEETINGS FOR RELIGIOUS INQUIRY. 
 
 their old clothes exchanged for new. For this purpose 
 there was a chest of drawers appropriated to ready-made 
 garments for missionaries ; and perhaps no satisfaction 
 was ever greater than hers, when a young man was fur 
 nished and speeded on his labors. Her hopeful and 
 imaginative mind looked forwardSnto the future, and saw, 
 with rapturous joy, the heathen forsaking his debasing 
 superstitions, and whole nations converted to the blessed 
 religion of Jesus. In faith she looked forward, but she 
 witnessed only the dawn of missionary success. 
 
 Mrs. Tappan s fervent spirit could not be satisfied with 
 the common and ordinary sources of religious instruction. 
 The pious fervor of her soul required a more intimate 
 union with her fellow-Christians upon spiritual subjects. 
 She was active, therefore, with other members of the 
 church, in instituting meetings for prayer and religious 
 inquiry, at which the presence of her brother, Dr. Buck- 
 minster, was always desired. A person, then in the 
 morning of life, who was present at these meetings, speaks 
 of them, after the lapse of thirty years, in these glowing 
 terms : 
 
 " Dr. Buckminster s addresses at these meetings were 
 more tender and impressive than his written sermons. 
 Here he came near to heaven, with his and our sorrows 
 and wants. Here was the Bible unfolded and taken to 
 every heart, and Christians trained for heaven. In these 
 little rooms, unadorned and uncushioned, sat Dr. Buck- 
 minster, as a ministering angel, his countenance beaming 
 with heavenly love and his lips uttering celestial truths, 
 leading that little company to the waters of eternal life. 
 They drank there, and most of them are now at the 
 fountain. They hunger no more, nor thirst, neither does 
 the sun light on them or any heat. Those little white- 
 
MEETINGS FOR RELIGIOUS INQUIRY. 49 
 
 washed rooms, what scenes of interest could they un 
 fold ! There I learned the value of the soul, and, I trust, 
 found safety. I shall never forget the tenderness and 
 earnestness with which he spoke to me. The tears and 
 the love of the pastor penetrated my soul. I feel assured 
 it was in that little circle of affection and prayer that 
 he strengthened his own spirit and lost his own burdens. 
 Many who composed it were unlettered and unrefined, 
 but in this \veekly intercourse the elegance and refine 
 ment of his own mind were imparted ; they caught the 
 gentleness and urbanity of his manners ; they became 
 strong in the Bible spirit, and were imbued with Bible 
 truth. It is remarkable how soon they were all, or near 
 ly all, called to follow him ; and what death-beds were 
 theirs! Most of them were eminently blessed at the close 
 of life. Those peaceful, dying scenes are among my 
 sweetest memories." 
 
 Mrs. Tappan, in these meetings, as in every thing else, 
 was the leader and encourager of others. Her faith was 
 rarely clouded, her intrepid spirit scarcely ever discour 
 aged. " There were occasions," says one of her adopted 
 daughters, " in which she rose above herself, and appear 
 ed a superior being to all around her." One of the oc 
 casions referred to was after the death of Dr. Buckmin- 
 ster, when, as often happens, there was disunion between 
 the church and the parish in the choice of a candidate. 
 Mrs. Tappan was deeply interested in the gentleman 
 whom the church had chosen ; she could not bear to 
 think of a disappointment. " The day of decision had 
 arrived, and she spent it in her room, walking the floor, 
 and endeavouring to stay her soul on God. At four 
 o clock the parish meeting closed, with a rejection of 
 the candidate. The brethren of the church, in silence 
 5 
 
50 DEATH OF MRS. TAPPAN. 
 
 and grief, assembled spontaneously at her house, but 
 she was by this time wholly exhausted, and had taken 
 to her bed. The friends went directly to her, and burst 
 into a flood of tears, as they assembled around her. 
 In an instant she sprang up in bed, and, with heroic 
 courage and eloquence she addressed them: c What ! 
 my friends, she said, c is it for us to be faint-hearted, 
 while God lives ? The cause is his, not ours. He will 
 take care of his own. And with astonishing energy and 
 eloquence she continued to speak, till all were ashamed 
 of their want of faith, and went forward with new reso 
 lution." * 
 
 Mrs. Tappan died in April, 1814. There was a most 
 affecting expression of the attachment which this friend 
 of the sorrowful had inspired in every class of the com 
 munity. During her short and fatal illness, her chamber, 
 and ,all the avenues leading to it, were thronged with 
 crowds of deeply anxious faces, asking and longing for 
 one word of hope ; and when she died, the grief of the 
 community was almost as fervent and universal as when 
 her brother, Dr. Buckminster, was taken from his 
 parish. 
 
 * Mrs. Bigelow, of Rochester, Mass, 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 MARRIAGE OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. CHARACTER AND ANEC 
 DOTES OF DR. STEVENS. DEATH OF MRS. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 DEPRESSION OF SPIRITS. SECOND MARRIAGE. JOYS 
 
 AND TRIALS. 
 
 MR. BUCKMINSTER had been settled in Portsmouth 
 three years, when he married, in 1782, Sarah Stevens, 
 the only child of Dr. Benjamin Stevens, of Kittery 
 Point. Kittery Point, upon the Piscataqua River, op 
 posite to Portsmouth, was at this and at an earlier 
 period a fair town, in a flourishing condition. Merchants 
 of large property made it their residence ; spacious 
 houses were built, and strangers were much allured to 
 the spot to enjoy the elegant hospitality of Sir William 
 Pepperell. Dr. Stevens lived to see the decline of 
 the place, the death or removal of his old friends, while 
 the beautiful spot assumed almost its present appearance ; 
 where the bright-flowing Piscataqua winds round empty 
 fields, dotted only with the old trees* of a former growth, 
 and the land and water, so sweetly blended together, are 
 varied only by its ancient tombs. 
 
 The history of Dr. Stevens and his family is some 
 what peculiar. His father, the Rev. Joseph Stevens, 
 was minister of the First Church of Charlestown, Mas 
 sachusetts. Ordained in 1713, his ministry had been of 
 only eight years duration, when he himself, and, save one 
 
52 REV. MR. STEVENS OF CHARLESTOWN. 
 
 child, his whole family, consisting of his wife, two chil 
 dren, his wife s sister, and a maid-servant, were all 
 swept off at once by the small-pox. His second son, 
 Benjamin, then an infant of seven months old, was saved 
 by the prudence of a nurse, who fled with him from the 
 contagion to his grandfather s house in Andover. 
 
 Mr. Stevens, the minister of Charlesto\vn, was a man 
 much beloved, and distinguished by peculiar graces. 
 The Rev. Dr. Colman, of Brattle Street church, wrote 
 of him a short biography, as a preface to four sermons 
 upon that " better, heavenly country," which he was in 
 the course of preaching when he was taken away, to 
 dwell in that " better land." 
 
 From this source we learn, that "he was possessed 
 of great personal beauty, and no less distinguished for 
 the brilliant qualities of his mind. His countenance was 
 grave, of a sweet expression, and full of life. He ex 
 celled in conversation, and the modesty of his deportment 
 gave a singular grace to the superiority and dignity that 
 were natural to him. In the delivery of his sermons he 
 was distinguished for his animation. His eyes as well 
 as his tongue were wont to speak with such majesty, as 
 well as solemnity, as commanded the ears and hearts of 
 his audience. Indeed, his natural advantages were such, 
 that, while they formed a distinguished divine, they might 
 have equally qualified him as a judge or a commander, 
 had Providence called him to the bench or the field." * 
 
 It is a striking circumstance, perhaps, that this descrip 
 tion of Mr. Stevens would apply with great exactness to 
 his great-grandson, the pastor of Brattle Street church, 
 who inherited his name, as w r ell as his personal graces. 
 
 * See the History of the First Church of Charlestown, by W. J. 
 Buddington. 
 
DR. STEVENS OF KITTERY POINT. 53 
 
 Their ministry also was of the same duration, eight 
 years, both dying in their full strength, one at twenty- 
 eight, the other at forty years of age. 
 
 The single scion of the family who escaped the ravages 
 of the small-pox, the orphan Benjamin, was educated at 
 Harvard College, and settled at Kittery Point, at that 
 time, as mentioned above, a flourishing and attractive 
 place. He married a daughter of Judge Trowbridge, of 
 Cambridge.* His wife died early, leaving him an only 
 child, a daughter, thus motherless, at the age of ten years. 
 When urged to marry again, he replied, " I do not 
 feel that the tie that bound me to one now in heaven is 
 dissolved by death ; I live in the firm faith of meeting my 
 wife again." When he was reminded that it was his 
 duty to give his only daughter a guardian and female 
 companion, he said that he thought himself able to be 
 the guardian of his daughter, and that he did not wish to 
 place her under any authority but his own. And he 
 became indeed the companion of his only child. The 
 union between father and daughter W 7 as singularly free, 
 unreserved, and beautiful. 
 
 Some anecdotes remain of Dr. Stevens, that are as 
 characteristic of the manners of a century ago, as of the 
 individuality of his character. The meeting-house and 
 parsonage on Kittery Point, upon the northeastern shore, 
 at the mouth of the Piscataqua, have an aspect and sit 
 uation which in summer cannot be surpassed for beau 
 ty and variety of scenery, but in winter are bleak and 
 exposed to storms, and at times the river must have been 
 almost impassable. Tradition informs us, that, after 
 
 * Mr. Ellery, of Newport, grandfather of Dr. Charming, married a 
 sister of Mrs. Stevens. Dr. Channing and Joseph Stevens Buckmin- 
 ster were second-cousins. 
 
 5* 
 
51 ANECDOTES OF DR. STEVENS. 
 
 he was somewhat advanced in years, and consequently 
 not very well able to bear the cold, he would remain in 
 the parsonage on a stormy Sabbath morning in the win 
 ter till the bell had tolled some time, and then he would 
 send his servant Sambo into the meeting-house with the 
 message, that, if there were but seven hearers assembled, 
 " massa" invited them to come into his parlour, and he 
 would preach to them there ; but if there were upwards 
 of seven, he would go to the meeting-house. He would 
 then enter, with his outside garment tied closely around 
 his waist with a silk handkerchief, as no fires were then 
 kept in the places of worship, and, thus protected from 
 the cold, he would go through the services. 
 
 He used to ride on horseback in the winter accoutred 
 in the same manner, and carry relief to the temporal wants 
 of the poor and sick, as well as spiritual instruction to 
 all whom he could reach. He was intimately acquainted 
 with every member of his parish, man, woman, and child ; 
 and although his meeting-house was usually well filled in 
 good weather, and very often crowded, he could tell who 
 were missing, and if places were vacant on a pleasant 
 Sabbath, he was sure to be out on horseback very early 
 on Monday morning to visit the absentees. Few, very 
 few, ever put him to the trouble of going to see them 
 two Mondays in succession. 
 
 Sambo, the black servant already mentioned, was the 
 factotum in his master s small family, and very fond of a 
 practical joke. One summer s day, when one of the 
 clerical brethren came to visit his master, Sambo teth 
 ered the horse so near to the rocks in the pasture that 
 the poor beast could get but a very scanty meal. When 
 reproved by his master for his inhospitality, he replied, 
 " Massa tell Sambo that the nearer the bone the sweeter 
 
ANECDOTES OF DR. STEVENS. 55 
 
 the meat, and Sambo thought that the nearer the rock 
 the sweeter the grass." Even without this anecdote we 
 should infer that Dr. Stevens, although extremely liberal 
 and charitable, conducted his affairs with shrewdness and 
 economy ; for out of a small salary he was able to lay by 
 some thousands of dollars, and at his death he was es 
 teemed rich. 
 
 Dr. Stevens s intimacy with the Pepperells brought 
 upon him the suspicion of inclining to the mother coun 
 try at the approach of the contest with her colonies. 
 After the death of President Holyoke of Harvard Uni 
 versity, in 1769, " the minister of Kittery," says Hutch- 
 inson, " would have had the voice of the people as a 
 candidate for the presidency if his political principles 
 had not been a bar."* An anecdote often related indi 
 cates his political bias. Upon one occasion, when he 
 was preaching in Portsmouth, a gentleman named Blunt 
 had a son to be baptized, and the ordinance, according 
 to the custom of that day, was to take place immediately 
 after the sermon. In the discourse, which was some 
 what political, Oliver Cromwell was mentioned, and 
 " soundly berated." At the close, the parents and child 
 were called for, and the father, w T hen requested to give 
 the name, suppressed the one previously selected, and 
 called out, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the 
 whole congregation, " Oliver Cromwell," and by that 
 name the child was baptized. 
 
 That, when the contest was finally decided upon, Dr. 
 Stevens took the part of the colonies, is apparent from 
 all his subsequent history. He never lost in the smallest 
 degree the respect and affection of his own parish or of 
 
 * Hutchinson s History of Massachusetts., Vol. III. p. 262. 
 
56 DEATH OF DR. STEVENS. 
 
 the country. His death took place in 1791. An aged 
 woman now living relates, that at his funeral the shore of 
 the beautiful point was lined with boats, and the meeting 
 house crowded to overflowing with a weeping multitude. 
 Another aged person says, that, to the day of his death, 
 he was an early riser ; that being employed at work 
 opposite the parsonage the year of his death, the first 
 person he saw on every summer morning was Dr. Ste 
 vens, at his study window, with his book in his hand, just 
 as the sun was rising. 
 
 The writer, some years ago, met \vith a singular proof 
 of the whimsical idea Dr. Stevens s parishioners enter 
 tained of his great learning. Passing in a small boat 
 over the river to the " Point," an ancient boatman, who 
 was no bad representative of Charon himself, sat at the 
 helm, and paddled the boat across. Being asked if he re 
 membered Dr. Stevens, " Remember him, indeed ! ?1 
 he answered ; u he not only baptized, but he married me 
 also. Ah ! " he said, " he was a prodigiously learned 
 man, and never spoke except in Greek and Hebrew." 
 
 While the French fleet were stationed in the harbour 
 near by, during the war, the officers were much in the 
 habit of enjoying the hospitality of Dr. Stevens s parson 
 age, and this vicinity came very near to depriving him 
 of his only daughter. The father of an only child could 
 not consent to her leaving him for a distant country, and 
 the decision of the father was unquestioned by the 
 daughter. 
 
 The experiment of educating his daughter himself, 
 and carrying her through the years of youth without 
 female companionship, was eminently successful, if we 
 may rely upon the testimony of all who knew her. She 
 went to no dame s school, to no school whatever, and, 
 
SARAH STEVENS. 57 
 
 except in visits made to her mother s relations, her father 
 was her sole companion, and her instructer in English lit 
 erature, for female education in those days went no 
 further, and the relation between them was as unre 
 served as it was singular and beautiful. A contemporary, 
 now eighty-eight years old, writes, " Sarah Stevens was 
 quoted as a model of perfection by all w 7 ho knew her." 
 Only a few years ago, the aged inhabitants of Kittery 
 delighted to describe her to the writer as she remained 
 in their memory in her riding-habit or Joseph, as it was 
 then called and beaver hat, as she rode by her father s 
 side when he made his parochial visits, and the very 
 chair she sat in has been fondly pointed out. Traces, 
 too, of her cultivating hand remain in the very shrub 
 bery that shaded her window, while all else is desolate 
 about the parsonage. 
 
 With extreme natural sensibility, the seclusion and the 
 romantic scenery in which she lived were calculated to 
 develop the imagination, and to give a sentimental turn 
 to her thoughts, which was checked by the stern good- 
 sense of the father. Her letters show that she some 
 times pined under her extreme solitude, when winter 
 storms lashed into foam the river that divided them from 
 all society, and no boat could pass to their secluded 
 dwelling. Dr. Stevens was furnished with resources 
 for a winter s day such as few of his brethren possessed, 
 in the library, splendid for those times, which was left 
 him by Sir William Pepperell. The books were mostly 
 English editions of the very best authors. At his own 
 death, he bequeathed them for the use of the ministers of 
 York and Kittery. 
 
 The first letter written after her marriage, at the first 
 separation from her husband, shows the extreme tender- 
 
58 LETTERS OF 
 
 ness of her attachment to him. He was absent on an 
 exchange with Dr. Morse, of Charlestown. 
 
 " I have retired to my chamber, but my spirits are so sunk 
 by the absence of my dearest friend, that I cannot think of 
 going to bed, and will try by this imaginary conversation, by 
 the aid of the pen, to banish the gloom for a few minutes. 
 Indeed, my friend, I hardly ever felt more unhappy than I have 
 this day ; and although I have attended meeting both parts 
 of the day, my wandering mind, I fear, was more employed 
 upon an earthly object that was absent, than engaged in the 
 service of a heavenly Friend who is always present. Mr. 
 Morse left me very soon after meeting ; since then I have 
 wandered from one room to another, but everywhere I miss 
 my companion. I try to reason with myself; I endeavour 
 to suppress my regrets and to be happy, but as yet my ef 
 forts are vain. O my friend, if I cannot bear a separation 
 for a few days, how should I live if I should see you no 
 more ? I sometimes fear that, for an undue attachment to an 
 earthly object, I may be reminded of its sinfulness by having 
 it taken from me ; but God grant that so severe an affliction 
 may not be necessary for me." 
 
 " Monday Night. One more day has passed without my 
 beloved friend. I would not send this letter if I could not tell 
 you that I have felt less unhappy than I did yesterday. It is 
 not that I have thought less of you, but I have schooled my 
 self to be more reconciled to your absence. Miss A. has 
 passed the day with me, and I would not have any one a 
 witness to my grief; to none but my beloved companion could 
 
 I confess it About two o clock we had a very 
 
 severe storm of wind, rain, and thunder. The former made 
 great devastation among the trees in the neighbourhood. 
 Our little garden, which I dare say you have thought of, has 
 suffered less than could have been expected ; some things 
 
MRS. BUCKMINSTER. 59 
 
 are laid low, but your beans, I am thankful to find, still keep 
 their place, or rather climb higher every hour. This will 
 reach you just after Commencement. I hope you have en 
 joyed the day, and that its fatigue has not been too much for 
 you. I trust it has been every way agreeable, and that every 
 thing will tend to your happiness while absent." 
 
 At the end of the first year of her marriage, a little 
 daughter was born, that died a short time after its birth. 
 The mother expresses her resignation in a letter to her 
 father : 
 
 " Heaven saw best to disappoint our hopes by taking the 
 life of our little girl ; I could have wished that it might have 
 been spared, but it was undoubtedly best for us, as well as 
 for the babe, that it was not, therefore I am resigned and 
 contented. I have great reason to be thankful that my own 
 life was spared. I enjoy many more blessings than I deserve. 
 My lot is a most blessed one, and I wish I may not be want 
 ing in gratitude to the Giver of all my blessings." 
 
 Within the eight short years that this grateful and lov 
 ing woman formed the domestic happiness of Dr. Buck- 
 minster, she became the mother of four children. The 
 second child and only son, Joseph, was six years old 
 at her death. It is easy to see how much influence such 
 a mother must have had upon her son. Her life was 
 spared long enough for her maternal love to make those 
 impressions on his susceptible mind, that most deeply 
 and permanently stamp the future character. That she 
 lived long enough to reap the fruit of her care in the 
 promise of most gracious dispositions in her son appears 
 from an authentic anecdote, related by his father only a 
 short time before his own death. 
 
60 ANECDOTE OF HER SON. 
 
 When Joseph was between five and six years old, his 
 parents left home on a journey for a few weeks, and his 
 father, when he took leave of the boy, said, rather 
 jestingly, " Well, my son, you must have an eye to 
 the family while I am absent, and see that every thing 
 goes on in its accustomed regularity," never suspecting 
 the extent to which his suggestion would be acted upon. 
 Joseph accordingly, as soon as the hours of school were 
 over, repaired to his father s study, and spent the time 
 alone with the books ; and when the hour for the morn 
 ing or evening devotions of the family arrived, he rang 
 the bell, and, in his sweet, childish voice, summoned the 
 inmates of the house to prayers. He read a chapter, 
 with the commentary, as usual, and concluded with an 
 extemporaneous prayer ; and this with so much gravity 
 and solemnity, that, instead of any approach to levity in 
 the servants, they were impressed with deep se riousness, 
 and one of them was greatly affected. This was not done 
 once or twice, but continued, with unabated reverence, 
 during the absence of his parents.* 
 
 The mother consecrated her son to God upon her 
 death-bed, and expressed the hope, that, if his life were 
 spared, he would become a minister. No doubt he would 
 have followed his own inclination in the choice of a pro 
 fession, but it seems early to have been the decided bent 
 of his character, as will afterwards appear. 
 
 The letters of his mother that have been preserved 
 breathe the utmost tenderness of devotion to her husband 
 and children, and gratitude for a happiness seldom the 
 
 * The writer would add, that this anecdote had always been tradi 
 tionary in the family ; but that it is inserted here upon the authority 
 of Mr. Dana, of Marblehead, to whom Dr. Buckminster related it a 
 short time before his death. 
 
DEATH OF MRS. BITCKMINSTER. 61 
 
 lot of mortals. It is not strange, then, that on her dying 
 bed she should have uttered the words, " Father ! the 
 cup cannot pass away. I must drink it ! Thy will be 
 done ! " The contemporary quoted above adds, " No 
 one ever lived more beloved, or died more lamented." 
 
 It is a touching anecdote, related by the same authority, 
 of the aged father, Dr. Stevens, when his daughter was 
 lying within a few days of her death, riding many miles 
 in search of a plant that he had heard was a specific in 
 complaints of the lungs. Fond affection clings to the 
 frailest support, and finds food for hope where others 
 find only despair. He survived his daughter only ten 
 months. It was said that Dr. Stevens s death was occa 
 sioned by taking cold at the funeral of a parishioner ; but 
 those who knew him intimately said that he never was 
 himself after the death of his child. The tears that 
 flowed then were not the most bitter that have been shed 
 on her grave. When God, in his holy and mysterious 
 Providence, takes a mother from her infant children, the 
 loss is the most irreparable to those most insensible to its 
 magnitude. Theirs is a twofold loss, bereft of the 
 remembrance, as well as of the possession, of a mother s 
 love. She died July 17th, 1790. 
 
 It was not surprising that the wreck of Dr. Buckmin- 
 ster s domestic joys, after only eight years of happiness, 
 left as he was with three motherless children, should have 
 brought back the nervous distress to which, from con 
 stitutional temperament, he was easily subjected. At 
 this period of his life he kept a diary, consisting, how 
 ever, almost entirely of spiritual exercises and experi 
 ences ; of records of a sense of sinfulness, aggravated 
 by a morbid and exaggerated conscientiousness. 
 
 Into the sacred records of the conflicts of the soul, 
 6 
 
62 RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCES. 
 
 when overwhelmed with nervous distress, the eye of a 
 child has hardly dared to penetrate, much less to reveal 
 them to the unsympathizing scrutiny of those who differ 
 from him in religious views, or to the approving gaze of 
 that portion of Christians who consider them as the ne 
 cessary accompaniment of the conversion of the soul to 
 God. A prominent religious publication, soon after his 
 death, made use of a stray leaf of this journal, that had 
 fallen into the hands of the editors, to assert, that he 
 entered into the ministry from motives utterly defective 
 and wrong, and that, after ten years of devotion to his 
 parish, he expressed a horror that he had ever attempted 
 to preach ; and insinuated that conversion had never 
 before taken place in his soul, and that the overwhelming 
 view that he now took of his personal vileness, of the 
 deceit and desperate wickedness of his heart, so that he 
 intermitted preaching, and all family devotion, because 
 he thought himself unworthy to continue in the ministry, 
 was the true, and not the diseased, state of his mind. 
 His nervous disease, which is now far better under 
 stood than at that time, ever took the form of exaggerated 
 conscientiousness, melancholy apprehensions abowt the 
 religious state of his friends, and of his own religious 
 condition and safety. The morbid and diseased state of 
 his health induced constant iteration of the fear, that he 
 had sinned beyond the reach of mercy ; that his ministry 
 had been only a hypocritical exercise of sinful or insin 
 cere experiments, and that he had ruined all with whom 
 he had ever been connected. There is certainly a want 
 of candor, or an absence of philosophical insight, in mak 
 ing use of the expressions of a morbid conscientiousness 
 as the proofs of a wicked or unregenerate state of the 
 heart. 
 
RELIGIOUS DIARY. 63 
 
 The above-mentioned journal was soon after discon 
 tinued, and the writer has heard her father, later in 
 life, remark, that he considered such records as delusive 
 representations of the state of the religious affections, 
 eminently calculated to produce self-deception, mislead 
 ing the writer into exaggerated ideas of the evil in the 
 heart ; while, on the other hand, by recording transient 
 emotions and elevated devotional feeling, a too exalted 
 state is induced, in danger of leading to spiritual pride 
 and to false security. 
 
 During the last illness and death of his wife, this diary 
 contains scarcely a record, except of the alternate feeling 
 of hope and of despair produced in his own mind as 
 the slight variations of better and worse in the delusive 
 malady of consumption took place. And when there 
 was no more hope, all other records were wiped away, 
 and she alone " lived in the book, and in the volume of 
 the brain, the tablets of the heart." 
 
 In this season of his affliction, October 18th, 1790, 
 he was chosen Professor of Theology of Phillips Exe 
 ter Academy, the trustees of this richly endowed 
 institution having then the intention of making it more 
 of a school of theology than appears to have been the 
 object of the founder. Sympathizing friends urged his 
 acceptance of this office, hoping that change of scene 
 and occupation would heal the deep wounds of an afflic 
 tive Providence. But he was now firmly rooted in the 
 affections of his people in Portsmouth, and decided to 
 remain among them ; and, indeed, no other sphere of 
 usefulness could have been half so appropriate. From 
 the time of his affliction, his people observed in him, if it 
 were possible, an increase of spirituality and fervor in the 
 work of his ministry. He was in labors more abundant, 
 
64 SECOND MARRIAGE. 
 
 anxious " to spend and be spent in his Master s service." 
 To quote the words of another, " He loved the work of 
 his Divine Lord and Master above every thing else, and 
 nothing gave him so much joy as to be able to win souls 
 to Christ. There was a wonderful pathos in his suppli 
 cations to the throne of Divine grace, and a wonderful 
 variety and pertinence in all his professional services. 
 At the communion-table, in the chamber of sickness, in 
 the house of mourning, and at the grave, his addresses 
 were extremely appropriate, tender, and deeply impres 
 sive." 
 
 It is said in the Life of Dr. Dwight,* that an eminent 
 civilian, hearing Mr. Buckminster pray, after the death 
 of General Washington, remarked, that Mr. Buckmin 
 ster deserved no credit for that prayer, for it was the 
 effect of immediate Divine inspiration. Such an impres 
 sion was often left by his occasional services ; but his 
 prayers were only the fruit of a devout heart. They 
 breathed a spirit of ardent piety. They were evidence 
 that " human wants and human sorrows, the dangers 
 which encompass the Christian s course, and the conflicts 
 to which goodness is exposed, were subjects of his ha 
 bitual thought." He considered devotion as the life of 
 Christian goodness, and, to promote it in his parish, he 
 appointed two evenings in the week for private meetings 
 with two different classes of his people ; the sisters of 
 the church, and the young people, who were prompted 
 by an interest in religion to seek counsel of their pastor. 
 
 In the year 1793, Mr. Buckminster gave a mother to 
 his bereaved children, by marrying Mary Lyman, the 
 daughter of Rev. Isaac Lyman of York, and sister of 
 
 * Sparks s Biography, Life of President Dwight, by W. B. Sprague. 
 
SALARY AND CHILDREN. 65 
 
 the late Theodore Lyman, Esq., of Boston. With a 
 disposition eminently cheerful, and a heart entirely de 
 voted to domestic joys and interests, as a fond moth 
 er, and a careful guardian of all that could constitute the 
 charm of home, she made him eminently happy in 
 this connection. While she enjoyed health, and indeed 
 while she lived, although cares pressed and children mul 
 tiplied, his cheerfulness never failed. He had no attack 
 of nervous disease, and but a momentary depression of 
 spirits. 
 
 In the last century, the salaries of ministers were very 
 small, at least in all places except that which has been 
 called the paradise of their order, Boston. Mr. Buck- 
 minster s society at Portsmouth was as liberal as any 
 other there, but his salary was not sufficient to spare the 
 pastor from those anxieties and cares which are peculiar 
 ly wearing to generous and refined natures. He was ex 
 tremely generous in his disposition, and hospitable in his 
 habits, and would gladly have had all his brethren at 
 his frugal table. His settlement was upon the value of 
 wheat and Indian corn, and varied extremely in differ 
 ent years ; but never did the amount, I think, exceed 
 six or seven hundred dollars. With these rather lim 
 ited means, it was a fixed principle with him never to 
 owe any thing. He never allowed himself to purchase 
 a thing for which he could not pay upon the spot, deny 
 ing himself and family rather than incur a debt. 
 
 Providence richly endowed him with what has been 
 called the minister s blessing, children. His quiver was 
 full of them, and the olive-branches grew thick around 
 his table, upon which, as may be supposed, the meal 
 was simple and frugal, and the elastic cord of means 
 needed to be stretched to the utmost to make both the 
 6* 
 
66 DEATH OF CHILDREN. 
 
 ends meet around a year s expenses. He suffered much 
 domestic grief in the loss of many lovely children, who 
 were taken away at the most attractive period of life, 
 at the ages of one and two years ; and the tenderness of 
 his nature was deeply touched at such losses. Five of 
 his twelve children died in infancy. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 EARLY DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHARACTER OF HIS SON 
 
 JOSEPH. LETTERS BETWEEN THE FATHER AND THE SON. 
 
 EXETER ACADEMY. 
 
 JOSEPH STEVENS, the eldest son of Dr. Buck- 
 minster, was born May 26th, 1784. It has been men 
 tioned in the last chapter, that his mother on her death 
 bed prayed that her son might be devoted to the church ; 
 for this purpose both parents took the greatest delight in 
 cultivating his mind, a mind, too, of such early prom 
 ise, as almost from infancy gave indication of its excel 
 lence. I quote the letter of his eldest sister : * 
 
 " I do not know how soon my brother was able to read ; 
 but at four years old he began lo sudy the Latin Grammar,, 
 and had so great a desire to learn the Greek also, that my 
 father, to please him, taught him to read a chapter in the 
 Greek Testament by pronouncing to him the words. As 
 early as this he evinced that love for books and ardent 
 thirst for knowledge which he possessed through life. He 
 was seldom willing, while a child, to leave his books for any 
 amusement; my father was so much afraid that close ap 
 plication would injure his health, that he used to reward 
 him for playing with boys of his own age, and would go 
 
 * Afterwards the wife of John Farrar, Hollis Professor of Mathe 
 matics in Harvard University. 
 
68 EARLY DOCILITY OF JOSEPH. 
 
 with him to persuade him by example to take part in their 
 sports. I have no recollection that, when we were children, 
 he ever did any thing wrong. He had always the same 
 open, candid disposition that marked his manhood, nor can 
 I recollect any time when I did not feel perfect confidence 
 that whatever he did was right. From the time he was five 
 till he was seven years old, it was his practice to call the 
 domestics together on Sabbath mornings, and read to them 
 one of my father s manuscript sermons, repeat the Lord s 
 Prayer, and sing a hymn ; and he performed the service 
 with such earnestness, that he was always listened to with 
 attention. I have heard my dear father say that he never 
 knew him to tell an untruth, or to prevaricate in the least. 
 Indeed, there was always something about him that gained 
 the love of all who knew him." 
 
 But though the nature of the boy was most docile, 
 rich, and promising, the history of his short life will 
 show that it was not genius alone that made him so 
 early eminent ; that it was to his father s extraordinary 
 care and watchfulness that he was indebted for the early 
 excellence of his character ; and, further, that there was 
 nothing precocious in his mind. Every thing that he 
 was and did was the natural fruit of previous sowing, 
 watering, culture ; so that, had he lived, what he had 
 already accomplished would have been regarded by him 
 but as immature and imperfect, marking only an epoch 
 in a development of his mind that would still have gone 
 on in continual progress. 
 
 Still, the temperament of his youthful mind seems 
 to have been of that elastic and buoyant character, which 
 no kind of education could have depressed or confined. 
 A gentle docility, a serene gayety, was ever the character 
 of his disposition. This shone always in his counte- 
 
PURITAN EDUCATION. 69 
 
 nance, and was apparent in the freedom of all his bear 
 ing. He was, too, in his boyhood, eminently handsome. 
 The open brow, shaded with chestnut curls, and the 
 beautiful hazel eyes, attracted the attention of strangers 
 who met him in the street; and, in one instance, a gen 
 tleman and lady, travellers, passing through Portsmouth, 
 charmed by his beautiful countenance, followed him to 
 his home, and made the singular request to be permitted 
 to adopt him as their own son. 
 
 Thus girt round with all domestic, all religious influ 
 ences, all obedience upon one side, all watchful care 
 upon the other, it seems as though it would be impos 
 sible for the young feet to stray, or the young heart to 
 throb with any but peaceful wishes ; and with so docile 
 a nature as Joseph s, all went well. But in the stoical 
 homes of our Puritan childhood, free-will was too much 
 restrained ; the child was subjected to the bonds of a 
 too strict obedience ; the struggle of even innocent de 
 sires with the Puritan ideas of parental authority planted 
 many a cypress-tree in the young heart, under whose 
 shade perished the opening buds and beautiful flowers 
 of joy. It may be a question hard to decide, whether 
 is more conducive to the happiness of the whole of life 
 the former iron-bound obedience or the present un 
 limited indulgence. If it be true, as Goethe in all the 
 calm sincerity of a life of great experiences asserts, that 
 " only with renunciation can life, properly speaking, 
 be said to begin," then the earlier and the more 
 complete the self-denial in the first years of life, the 
 more prepared will the child be for happiness and for 
 duty. But when we reflect how small is the portion 
 of happiness that sometimes comes to dwell in the same 
 heart in after life, is it not unjust to abridge the inno 
 cent joys of childhood ? 
 
70 FRIENDSHIPS OF BOYHOOD. 
 
 " Since sorrow never comes too late, 
 
 And happiness too swiftly flies, 
 No more; where ignorance is bliss, 
 T is folly to be wise." 
 
 Of youthful, or rather boyish friendships formed at 
 this early period of Joseph s life, I can remember only 
 two. The participator of one of them, Jacob Picker 
 ing, Esq., of Portsmouth, yet survives. The object of 
 the other youthful attachment was a very promising lad, 
 of the same age, George M. Sheafe, the son of James 
 Sheafe, of Portsmouth. The two friends entered Exe 
 ter Academy together, were classmates at college, and 
 the early death of Sheafe, at the age of nineteen, was 
 deeply regretted by his young friend. His letters, in 
 the round hand of a school-boy, were all carefully pre 
 served. 
 
 Till the age of ten, Joseph remained at the gram 
 mar school in Portsmouth, taught by Mr. Amos Tap- 
 pan, who married Dr. Buckminster s sister, and who 
 was brother of Rev. David Tappan, Professor of Di 
 vinity at Harvard University. It was now necessary 
 that he should enter a higher school. Phillips Exe 
 ter Academy then, as now, enjoyed a reputation sec 
 ond to none in the country. It was under the instruc 
 tion of that most excellent man and renowned instruct- 
 er, Mr. Benjamin Abbot. It is to be regretted that 
 no history of Exeter Academy has ever been writ 
 ten. Probably more distinguished men have been edu 
 cated at that school, and have been benefited by the 
 instruction of its distinguished preceptor, than at any 
 other in the United States. 
 
 Few anecdotes remain of Joseph s boyhood, and at 
 the distance of half a century there is no possibility of 
 
71 
 
 collecting more. Nearly all are dead who witnessed the 
 early unfolding of this bud of promise. His eldest 
 sister could remember his childhood, but the present 
 writer was too young to recollect any thing of him be 
 fore he went to college. She was not then seven years 
 old, and even the vacations that brought him under the 
 paternal roof have left only a faint impression. It is 
 remarkable that his father never, in a letter or in any 
 other way, gave the least indication that he was im 
 pressed by the extraordinary unfolding of his son s 
 character. His early excellence seems to have been 
 expected, as a matter of course, and only the natural 
 result of extraordinary care. 
 
 There were two persons witnesses of his childish 
 attractions, " who kept all these things in their hearts," 
 and, had they lived, would have preserved rich stores 
 of anecdote. One was an old domestic, who had lived 
 with his mother, and remained the faithful nurse of her 
 children till their father married again. She loved them 
 all, but Joseph was her idol. She had no power of ex 
 pressing her love and admiration, and until he was grown 
 to man s estate, whenever " Old Hannah " met him, she 
 threw her arms around him, and kissed him on each side 
 of the face, and on his forehead and lips. She always 
 found out when he was expected at his father s house, 
 and, dressing herself in her old-fashioned suit, preserved 
 with the greatest care for Sundays and for this occa 
 sion, she was on the spot to greet her darling with tears 
 and smiles and inarticulate joy. 
 
 The other was an aunt, the sister of his father, al 
 ready mentioned, a most noble-hearted, excellent wom 
 an, a strict Calvinist, whose creed was sadly at variance 
 with her warm heart. She maintained, in conversa- 
 
72 EXETER ACADEMY. 
 
 tion, that every little son and daughter of Adam was the 
 subject of sin and of correction before they were nine 
 months old, and in theory she was a great friend to the 
 rod ; but she always said that she could find nothing 
 wrong in Joseph, and never punished him. She was 
 childless, but her house was never without two or three 
 orphan children ; and she became so indulgent in prac 
 tice, that her last adopted child would have been utterly 
 spoiled, had she been susceptible of spoiling. 
 
 Joseph entered Exeter Academy in the autumn of 
 the year 1795, having completed his eleventh year the 
 preceding May. The letters of the father to the son 
 while at Exeter were preserved with the utmost care 
 fulness by the boy. Every trivial scrap, even on half a 
 leaf of paper, was hoarded with a miser s care. They 
 have been treated with like scrupulous respect, and, of 
 the few introduced, not one word has been altered ; even 
 the original punctuation has remained unchanged. The 
 son s letters were also as carefully preserved for many 
 years, but, with other family papers, were destroyed by 
 accidental fire not many years ago. 
 
 The first and second letters of the father are with 
 out date : 
 
 " I have in a sense but just left you, my dear son, but so 
 great is my affection and concern for you that I gladly em 
 brace every opportunity of writing to you, and wish you 
 may have a similar affection and concern for us. Your 
 situation is such as I think must be agreeable and advan 
 tageous to you, and if you behave yourself well, with the 
 smiles of Providence, you will be respected and happy. 
 I am pleased to see your respectful and manly behaviour 
 
LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 73 
 
 in the family; continue to do so, and especially at any 
 time in the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Rowland ; never do 
 any thing because they are gone which you would not do 
 if they were at home ; nor do any thing of which you would 
 be ashamed, because you think you can keep it secret; such 
 conduct discovers a little and base mind. If you acci 
 dentally do any mischief, (and I hope you will never do 
 any with design,) do not endeavour to hide, but acknowl 
 edge it, and be sorry. Cultivate a sincere respect for your 
 instructers, and never cherish prejudices against them. In- 
 structers, who are entitled to the respect of their pupils, 
 love those that respect them. I have borrowed a Sallust 
 for you from Judge Parker. Take especial care of bor 
 rowed books. 
 
 " Do not study too hard, so as to injure your eyes, and 
 do not be too anxious about acquitting yourself: be easy 
 and contented in yourself: fear God, and pray to him. Be 
 respectful and kind to all men, and be not too forward in the 
 company of your superiors. Be swift to hear, but slow to 
 speak. 
 
 " We have a smart shower upon us, and in our anxiety 
 fear you will get wet. Be careful, lest you should be 
 again seized with the rheumatism. We all love you and 
 long to hear from you. Your sisters, though they, poor girls, 
 cannot write,* will be glad to have a little letter from you." 
 
 I would not swell these pages with all the father s let 
 ters to the son, of which one was written every week 
 during his residence at Exeter Academy. But it must 
 be recollected that the boy was only eleven years old, 
 and I shall select only such passages as show with what 
 minute care and tender solicitude his every footstep was 
 followed by the anxious father. 
 
 * His sisters were of the ages of eight and five. 
 
 7 
 
74 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 
 
 "Your letter, my dear son, was received with pleasure, 
 as all your letters are ; but the pleasure in this case was a 
 little heightened by inclosing your first attempt at com 
 position, with a request that I would mention such correc 
 tions as might be made in it. It is very well, I think, for 
 the first attempt. I do not discover any grammatical in 
 accuracies, which are very common in juvenile productions, 
 but there is a little inaccuracy in saying these are the 
 consequences, when you have mentioned but one real con 
 sequence. 
 
 " The great art of composition is to write easily and in 
 telligibly ; perspicuity is the first thing in writing ; if a per 
 son find that his meaning is obscure, he may be sure there 
 is some defect in the attempt. You must not be grieved 
 if at first your preceptor blots your pieces with correc 
 tions ; there is nothing attained without labor and care, and 
 it is a happiness to have an able and faithful friend who 
 will correct our blunders. 
 
 " I am glad to find you disposed to get forward in your 
 studies, but you must take care of your health, and remem 
 ber that we are not scholars in proportion to what we run 
 over, but in proportion to what we understand and make 
 our own. I have known some boys that have only studied 
 one Evangelist better Grecians than others, who have run 
 over the whole Greek Testament. You will follow your 
 preceptor s directions ; but I wish you now, while you are 
 so young, principally to attend to the languages. 
 
 " And now, my dear son, I must repeat my admonitions 
 and exhortations to you, to abhor that which is evil, and 
 cleave to that which is good. It is a critical and impor 
 tant season with you. O, be watchful against forming any 
 vicious habits ; resist the first beginnings of temptation. 
 Fear the great name of the Lord your God, and do not al 
 low yourself to use it profanely upon any occasion what 
 ever, nor make those your companions who do ; keep your- 
 
LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 75 
 
 self pure ; never allow impure thoughts to enter your mind, 
 or impure words to come from your lips. You have written 
 so well against falsehood, that I hope you will never con 
 tradict your first attempt at composition in your practice. 
 Treat all your superiors with respect, especially Madam 
 Phillips, [the widow of the founder of the Academy,] and be 
 obliging to her in little things as well as great, and be al 
 ways forward to oblige. Observe the Sabbath in public 
 and in private, and let no morning nor evening pass with 
 out committing yourself to God, for his protection and 
 blessing. If we lie down or rise up without thanking 
 him for the protection of the night, or for the mercies of 
 the day, we should not wonder if his blessing is with 
 drawn from us. 
 
 " I say not these things to grieve you, but as my beloved 
 son I warn you, and because I love you I admonish and 
 exhort you, and wish you to be amiable, and virtuous, and 
 happy." 
 
 It must be recollected, in reading the next letter, that 
 the boy was only eleven years of age. 
 
 " January 5th, 1796. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, We are always glad to receive let 
 ters from you, whether their contents be more or less in 
 teresting, as they are pledges in some sort for your good 
 behaviour. Children can have no friends so nearly in 
 terested in their welfare as their parents, and they should 
 treat them with openness and filial confidence, and in every 
 interesting matter seek their advice and direction; while 
 a child governs himself by principle and acts .with dis 
 cretion he will have nothing to conceal from a kind par 
 ent. But when he means to give himself up to the guid 
 ance of passion instead of reason, he must seek other ad 
 visers than parents, and his intercourse with them will be 
 
76 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKM1NSTER TO HIS SON. 
 
 timid and reserved. I hope, my son, you will never get into 
 the way of reserve with your parents, nor expose yourself 
 to the bitter reflections of your own mind : young people 
 may find the young who will flatter their passions, and give 
 them advice that may be more congenial to their feelings, 
 but nature directs children to their parents for counsel. You 
 know, in Scripture history, how badly it fared with Solomon 
 for forsaking the counsel of the old man and following the 
 advice of the young. You will find some persons who are 
 profane, some who are obscene in their discourse, some 
 that ridicule all religion, and some who have no principle 
 of any kind. I hope, my son, you will be on your guard 
 not to be corrupted by any of them ; the worst of them 
 esteem those more highly whom they cannot corrupt, al 
 though they may affect to ridicule them ; and the estimation 
 of one virtuous man which is secured by good principle 
 and conduct is of more value than the pretended estima 
 tion of a thousand of the profane. 
 
 " I send you Xenophon s Cyropasdia ; you must use it 
 with care, as I hope you will all your books, but especially 
 borrowed ones. A soiled book is a suspicious indication 
 of an idle scholar. I have never read The Retreat of 
 the Ten Thousand. It is a matter of indifference to me 
 what particular books you study, provided they be such 
 as are calculated to forward you in the object of all learn 
 ing, to be useful in life ; this should be our object, my son, 
 to be useful to our fellow-men. As to the course of your 
 studies I wish you to be directed by your preceptor. 
 
 " We thank you for your wishes for a happy year, and 
 all of us return them. That will be a happy year, my dear 
 son, that is spent in a faithful attendance upon duty, and 
 in the love and fear of God." 
 
 " August, 1796. 
 " MY DEAR SON, I was glad to hear by your letter that 
 
LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 77 
 
 you were better than when you wrote before. I hope you 
 will pay attention to your health, that you will take a due 
 degree of moderate exercise, and be careful of being too 
 long exposed to the evening air. But especially take care 
 of the health of your mind ; keep yourself pure and in 
 dulge no impure imaginations, no impure talking or jesting. 
 I hope God will bless you and make you a blessing. 
 
 " I have some agreeable intelligence to communicate to 
 you this morning. You are no longer, my dear, without 
 a brother. Your mamma had a fine son born this morning. 
 You will wish to come home and see the young stranger. 
 He will be to you a younger brother. God grant that you 
 may be to him an example of every thing that is good and 
 lovely in his sight. 
 
 " You must remember, my dear son, that although, through 
 the advantages you have enjoyed, you have made tolerable 
 proficiency in learning, yet that you are very young ; only 
 a boy ; and that you must not consider yourself at your 
 own disposal : you must be careful of the connections you 
 form, and not think because a scholar is older than your 
 self, or even a man, that therefore you may intrust yourself 
 to his disposal. Sometimes older scholars have been the 
 unhappy instruments of ruining younger ones by poisoning 
 their minds and corrupting their hearts. Fear God your 
 self, and be a companion of those who fear him; fear Him, 
 my son, who seeth in secret, and from whom no darkness 
 can conceal. Believe a father who loves you, the way to 
 De comfortable and happy in life is to preserve a pure, open, 
 and honest mind. 
 
 " I send you herewith Priestley s Lectures on History 
 and Policy, which your preceptor will direct you how to 
 improve. You must be careful of it and not soil or deface 
 it. A neat scholar is known by the appearance of his 
 books. 
 
 " Be careful, my dear son, to cultivate the fear and love 
 7 * 
 
78 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 
 
 of God ; forget not to pray to him daily, and commit all you 
 do to him. 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " J. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 The reiterated charges of his father to preserve his 
 books with extreme care were partly from the consid 
 eration that most of the books of his advanced studies 
 were borrowed from friends. There were at this 
 time no American editions of Cicero, Sallust, and 
 Xenophon, and the English prints of classics were far 
 beyond the means of expenditure of a clergyman of 
 the day. The delicate boy was subjected to many 
 hardships in consequence of his father s limited means. 
 From Exeter, and a part of the way from Cambridge, 
 he was obliged to walk to his " home to save the ex 
 pense of stage hire. The absolute need of boots and 
 shoes ; the necessity of having the discarded clothes 
 of the father cut down to fit the son, and "old ones 
 made amaist as good as new " ; all these petty material 
 interests occupy many of the letters, and find a place 
 in all. We cannot but feel a painful sympathy with the 
 diligent boy, who, when he had saved all his pocket- 
 money to buy a new pair of boots, finding it insuf 
 ficient, was forced to have his old ones patched. 
 
 Joseph remained at Exeter Academy, under the in 
 struction of Dr. Abbot, more than a year. He was so 
 thoroughly prepared in the Latin and Greek Grammars 
 under the instruction of his father, and that of Mr. Amos 
 Tappan of the Portsmouth Grammar School, that he 
 had no occasion to spend time upon them at the Acad 
 emy. As he was only eleven years old, it may seem in 
 credible to young persons, who at that age are just be- 
 
JOSEPH S STUDIES AND READINGS. 79 
 
 ginning the laborious task of learning the grammars ; but 
 it must be recollected that, from the testimony of his 
 eldest sister, he began to study the Latin at four years 
 of age, and the Greek nearly as early. His father in 
 one of his letters advises him, if his class is ciphering, 
 to go over again with them what he had previously learnt 
 of arithmetic, but he usually directs him to pay his prin 
 cipal attention to the languages. It was not with Joseph 
 as it was with Dr. Johnson, who, when asked how he 
 had acquired so accurate a knowledge of Latin, in which 
 no man excelled him, answered that u it was whipped 
 into him." Joseph was never punished while he was 
 at the Academy. A record remains, kept by himself, 
 of the books he studied at Exeter. They were the Greek 
 Testament, the Iliad, and Xenophon s Cyropsedia, Hor 
 ace s Epistles, Sallust, and Cicero. There is still pre 
 served his translation of Cicero s Jlmicitia, and of a part 
 of Sallust, in the round hand of the school-boy, bearing 
 the rare corrections of. the instructer. In the last quar 
 ter that he remained, he reviewed the Greek Testament, 
 Cicero, and Virgil, and read Livy s Roman History. 
 He also studied Blair s Rhetoric, and Morse s larger 
 Geography. 
 
 He kept, also, a record of the books which he took 
 out of the library of the Academy, for voluntary reading. 
 The reading of a school-boy of eleven and twelve years 
 may perhaps be interesting to those who are curious 
 in the history of individual mind, and the writer may per 
 haps be excused for thinking that every thing is in 
 teresting in the formation of a mind so rare. The date 
 is set down upon which every book is taken out and 
 regularly returned. They were Rollin s Ancient History, 
 16 vols. Svo ; The Life of Cicero, 3 vols. 8vo ; Ken- 
 
80 JOSEPH S STUDIES AND READINGS. 
 
 net s Roman Antiquities ; and D Arnay s Private Life of 
 the Romans. As books of amusement he has set down 
 The Spectator, Moore s France, and Sir William Tem 
 ple s Essays. He was fond of reading romances, but 
 rarely indulged himself in so attractive a pastime. 
 
 That he devoured books with the greatest avidity ap 
 pears from an anecdote which remains well attested in the 
 family. In one of the vacations he had procured Bos- 
 well s Life of Johnson, in a quarto volume. Pie was 
 standing leaning upon the mantel-piece when he began 
 to read, the book resting upon the shelf. So complete 
 ly was he absorbed by that, tahim, fascinating book, that 
 he neither moved nor paused, even to eat, till he was 
 wholly exhausted, and fainted from weariness. An anec 
 dote of the same kind is told of himself by Mr. Web 
 ster, only the book that fascinated him so completely was 
 Don Quixote ; he neither paused to eat or sleep, so great 
 was the power of that remarkable book upon his atten 
 tion, until he had finished the four volumes. 
 
 It was fortunate for Joseph that he was able in some 
 degree to gratify his passion for reading in his father s 
 house. Sir William Pepperell, as mentioned above, had 
 left his library as a legacy to his grandfather Stevens. 
 Dr. Stevens, at his death, bequeathed it for the use of 
 the ministers of York and Kittery, but with directions 
 that it should remain in possession of his son-in-law 
 during his life, and then be for the perpetual use of the 
 above-mentioned ministers. There were some hundreds 
 of volumes. Among them were many valuable books, 
 Rapin s History of England in folio, with plates, a 
 large collection of voyages and travels, the English clas 
 sics, etc., etc. 
 
PREPARATION OF JOSEPH FOR COLLEGE. 81 
 
 1796. At the Commencement at Cambridge, in 
 Aged 12. 1796j j ose ph had passed his twelfth birthday, 
 and was wholly prepared to enter college ; but his father 
 trembled to send him there while so young, and deter 
 mined to hold him back a year, and then offer him in ad 
 vance for the Sophomore class. At this time New Haven, 
 endeared by old associations, by the long residence and 
 the warm attachment of his father, was fixed upon as the 
 college at which the son must receive his education ; 
 and the great distance from Portsmouth increased the 
 father s anxiety, and added its weight to the motives for 
 keeping him back a year. In the mean time, the re 
 spective advantages presented by the two colleges were 
 considerations of anxious solicitude and the subject of 
 frequent debate. The father s fears of the influence of 
 the liberal views of religion already suspected at Cam 
 bridge are expressed in more than one letter. That the 
 son s inclination was decidedly directed towards Har 
 vard, appears from a letter written to a classmate who 
 had left Exeter this year to enter that college. The 
 letter is in a round, school-boy s hand, a close imitation 
 of the copperplate copies for penmanship. 
 
 " Exeter, Dec., 1796. 
 
 "DEAR FRIEND, I cannot let slip this favorable oppor 
 tunity of writing to you, although I have so lately enjoyed 
 the pleasure of your company. I will now endeavour to 
 avoid the charge of not performing my part of the corre 
 spondence. Did you arrive safe at Cambridge ? I should 
 be sorry to hear that the surprising activity of your Canta 
 brigian nag failed him in performing the journey. 
 
 " I fear, my friend, I shall be deprived of the happiness 
 of residing at the same university with yourself. The pleas 
 ure which I should enjoy in your company often rises to 
 
82 PREPARATION OF JOSEPH FOR COLLEGE. 
 
 my view. I have remonstrated with my papa, but he 
 thinks I shall enjoy greater advantages at the college for 
 which he designs me. All men are influenced in a greater 
 or less degree by prejudice, and I should not wonder if you 
 were to think he had an uncommonly great share of it. 
 But of this I will not pretend to be a judge. 
 
 " My loss, occasioned by separation from you, has not 
 yet been compensated. May you be always happy ! 
 " Affectionately yours, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
 That Joseph s remonstrance did not amount to a very 
 earnest opposition appears by a letter of the father, 
 written ten days after this of the son to his young friend, 
 in which he says to Joseph, " Your last letter to me 
 is a very laconic exhibition of your feelings, which seem 
 to be keen enough, respecting your going to New 
 Haven." 
 
 In conformity to the strict obedience in which chil 
 dren were educated at that time, especially the un 
 questioning, unremonstrating subjection with which in 
 our own family we were girt round and environed, prob 
 ably no other word ever escaped the lips of the son, 
 and I am unacquainted with the motives which at last 
 determined his father to send him to Cambridge. En 
 dowed as the son was with a joyous disposition and a 
 serene temper, he probably would have gone with the 
 utmost cheerfulness to New Haven. His delight is 
 warmly expressed in another letter to the same friend, 
 because he is not to be separated from the friendships 
 he had formed at Exeter, but would enter with some 
 of his fellow-students at Cambridge at the next Com 
 mencement. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 JOSEPH ENTERS COLLEGE. HIS CHARACTER AS A STUDENT. 
 
 LETTERS FROM HIS FATHER. 
 
 1797. AT the Commencement of 1797, Joseph was 
 
 Aged 13. admitted, one year in advance, to Harvard Uni 
 versity. Upon which occasion the father s letters are 
 again introduced. 
 
 Portsmouth, Aug. 10th, 1797. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, I hope by this time you begin to feel 
 yourself a little familiarized to college and its customs, and 
 that many of the things about which you were anxious cease 
 to be subjects of anxiety. I left you rather abruptly, and I 
 suppose, to you, unexpectedly, but I feared you would be 
 more affected by a formal parting than by finding me gone 
 without it. 
 
 " You are now placed in a situation, my son, in which 
 you must exercise care for yourself and the things you 
 have with you, without depending upon others. You have 
 hitherto boarded in a family where you have had kind 
 female care ; you must now take that care yourself. Keep 
 every thing in order ; your clothes in their place, your 
 books in their place, and be not in so much of a hurry 
 as to leave them in confusion and disorder. Lock your 
 trunk and your study, when you go out. Make a little 
 paper book and put down all your expenses. You must 
 bear half the expenses of the room, such as candles, etc. 
 I suppose it will be customary to have some wine in your 
 
84 LETTERS WHILE IN COLLEGE. 
 
 room, to offer to strangers. I hope it is not the custom to 
 offer scholars or classmates wine when they call ; but when 
 a gentleman or friend from out of town calls, it will be 
 necessary. You appear to have a prudent, worthy, and man 
 ly chum ; who will, I hope, not impose upon your youth, but 
 guide and direct you ; cherish confidence in him if you 
 find him deserving, and avoid the beginning of any preju 
 dice or dissension. I would not have you mean, nor pro 
 fuse; but entirely just in your part of the expenses. 
 
 " Do not be imposed upon. Carry little money about 
 with you.* Always remember to wash in the morning, 
 oftener if need be. Comb your hair every day. Endeav 
 our to keep your clothes neat and tidy. When your clothes 
 are returned from the wash, put them smoothly in your 
 trunk and make a memorandum of them. 
 
 " With respect to study, you will in the first place make 
 yourself a thorough master of your recitations, and of the 
 lessons assigned you. The time that you do not want for 
 your recitations, this year, devote to Hebrew and French. 
 Mr. Pearson is a good man, notwithstanding the prejudices 
 against him, and will be glad to see you often, and to give 
 you any assistance you may want. Do not be absent from 
 prayers or recitations for trifling causes. Never join in 
 any disorders that idle youths may commence. Study to 
 deserve the esteem and respect of the deserving part of 
 college. Never be out late at night and spend not much 
 time in playing on the flute. Do not play in study-hours, 
 and play-hours will be better used in exercise, vigorous 
 exercise, walking and playing ball. Call frequently upon 
 the Professors and go very often to see your dear mother s 
 friend, Mrs. Dana. 
 
 " Remember the advantages of the Sabbath when prop- 
 
 * This advice seems almost superfluous, as I suppose the boy never 
 had more than five dollars at one time. 
 
LETTERS WHILE IN COLLEGE. 85 
 
 erly used. If your eyes do not fail, it will be a good habit 
 to read the Bible in Greek, especially the New Testament, 
 on the Sabbath. 
 
 " I have been thus particular because you have never 
 been so alone and I think my counsels may be of service 
 to you. I place confidence in you, my son, and hope as 
 you have begun you will go on to perfection, and not disap 
 point the hopes and expectations of your friends. 
 
 " I have received the letter you wrote the day I left you. 
 I do not recollect any thing to add, except to repeat the 
 advice, and beg you to be a man. Command your feelings 
 and don t cry at corrections that may be suggested to you 
 at recitations, nor act as though unwilling to receive advice." 
 
 It must be recollected that the boy is only thirteen 
 years old, when his father advises him not to cry at being 
 corrected. The quick sensibility that in boyhood showed 
 itself in involuntary tears was never wholly conquered ; 
 when not exhibited by tears, it often subjected him to 
 unkind remarks from older and more self-possessed 
 characters. 
 
 A week only passed, and the counsels and advice were 
 reiterated. 
 
 " August 30th, 1797. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, I received your letter by Monday s 
 mail with a great deal of pleasure, and hope before this 
 you have received one from me that was written imme 
 diately after my return home, containing a great variety 
 of directions upon matters that to you may appear small, 
 but their influence is great; and you must be willing to 
 have line upon line and precept upon precept ; receive them 
 with the docility of a dutiful child from an affectionate 
 and solicitous parent. You have no one to take care of 
 you but yourself. Let me have confidence in you, that you 
 8 
 
86 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 
 
 will keep yourself out of danger and temptation and your 
 study and appendages free from confusion. Keep your 
 person and clothes in order and clean ; put every thing 
 iri its place and have a place for every thing. I am sorry 
 you had to lay out so much for books ; for I hoped the 
 money I left with you would do something towards de 
 fraying necessary bills that might arise. However, you are 
 not to be stingy of necessary expenses, though your father 
 is a poor man. Pay your full share ; only be careful of 
 your money and keep an exact account. 
 
 " Do not forget regular, manly exercise. I am glad to 
 find you are attempting both Hebrew and French. You 
 will overtake your class in a very little time, for you learn 
 languages easily. If you do not get some knowledge of 
 Hebrew now, it is not probable you will ever attain it ; and 
 if your heart should be devoted to the profession, which, 
 though not highly esteemed by men, is yet the most benevo 
 lent and honorable, you may find it of great advantage to 
 you. 
 
 " I am glad to hear that you are pleased with your chum. 
 I believe him to be a deserving young fellow ; but you must 
 not have too sudden or unbounded confidence in any one. 
 Form rules and principles for yourself that may be sup 
 ported by reason and revelation, and do not depart from 
 them through fear of ridicule nor hope of obtaining favor 
 from any one. Keep yourself pure. Treat all your fellow- 
 students with respect and friendship, but do not feel as if 
 your happiness depended upon the favor of any one r nor 
 your misery upon any thing but the reproaches of con 
 science. Always treat the government with respect and 
 attention. Never imbibe prejudices against any of them, 
 nor join in any cabals against them. Never be an informer, 
 but be equally careful not to be a supporter or encourager 
 of any designs against the governors or governed. 
 
 " Take care of yourself, my dear son, and be a good 
 boy." 
 
TO HIS SON WHILE IN COLLEGE. 87 
 
 "September 10th, 1797. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, The receipt of your letter by Mon 
 day s post gave us all pleasure, as it indicated your greater 
 ease and enjoyment in your present situation. You are, 
 I am sensible, the youngest boy in your class, but you must 
 remember that you have enjoyed great advantages, and that 
 wisdom is not measured by years, but by the opportunities 
 we have had of acquiring it ; yet the recollection of your 
 youth should make you modest and willing to bear the 
 repetition of my advice : yet I hope it will be needless ; 
 as you will form yourself to careful habits, and will some 
 times refresh your memory by perusing the letters I have 
 sent you. 
 
 " I am sorry you find it difficult to pursue the study of 
 both Hebrew and French, and conclude you intend to re 
 linquish one of them. To direct your determination, let 
 me suggest to you that this will probably be the only time 
 you will have to acquire any knowledge of Hebrew, which 
 is of some importance if you should choose one of the 
 professions for life ; you may have another opportunity to 
 get a knowledge of French ; besides, they are steady lads 
 who apply themselves to Hebrew, and I did wish you to 
 associate and assimilate with such. Take these things into 
 consideration, my son, and then judge which language to 
 relinquish if you relinquish either. 
 
 " If you knew how much we feel interested in you and 
 your welfare, you would never be at a loss as to what to 
 write to us. The most trifling circumstances, such as going 
 to bed, and getting up in the morning, washing hands, 
 combing hair, and brushing clothes, derive an importance 
 from their relation to those we love. You say little in your 
 letters about your chum. I hope you live together in har 
 mony and love, in mutual confidence and friendship, and 
 that you are guardians and helpmeets to each other in your 
 collegiate connection. 
 
88 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 
 
 " How do you succeed in getting up for prayers ? If pos 
 sible, avoid being frequently upon the monitor s bill. Cher 
 ish a respect for the authorities of college, whatever you 
 may hear said about them by idle or dissipated youth. 
 You may be sure they are men of respectability, or they 
 would never have been in the places they are ; treat them 
 yourself with submission, and a proper respect, due as much 
 to yourself as to them. Do not feel an unwillingness to be 
 corrected in your recitations, nor show the superficial cox 
 combry that is said to belong to the Sophomore year. Uo 
 not be difficult as to commons. Take care of yourself, my 
 dear boy, and of every thing that relates to you. 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 "J. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 " November, 1797. 
 
 "We are disappointed, my dear son, in not receiving a 
 line from you to let us know how you succeeded in your 
 return to Cambridge. We hope well, and that you are 
 again settled in the routine of study and recitation. You 
 must not be grieved nor surprised at my repeating my 
 cautions, reiterating my counsels, to take care of yourself, 
 of your health, comforts, and morals. You may, perhaps, 
 be more in danger this term than the last. You are more 
 accustomed to college life, and may have less timidity and 
 more confidence in yourself. Form to yourself general rules 
 and principles of good behaviour, that you may have them 
 to govern you in particular cases and emergencies ; and be 
 not betrayed by unforeseen events into faults or errors, in 
 consequence of not thinking. Let the virtuous and discreet 
 be your chosen companions, and if you are constrained to 
 be with others, let a manly dignity and propriety mark your 
 conduct and be a silent reproof of theirs. 
 
 " If you must at times hear the authorities of college re 
 viled and ridiculed, take no part in the ungrateful merri- 
 
TO HIS SON WHILE IN COLLEGE. 89 
 
 ment ; or at least, do nothing to add to the piquancy or 
 amount of it. Keep yourself pure, my son, in these your 
 years at college, and remember that God is the inspector 
 of your public and private conduct and knows your most 
 secret thoughts and actions. Resolve not upon any thing 
 of consequence, without making it the subject at least of one 
 night s sleep, and one evening s prayer. Govern yourself, 
 my son, by principles, and attach yourself to them rather 
 than to men. Approve what is excellent in all, and what 
 is otherwise in none. 
 
 " You tell us you spent Thanksgiving at Waltham. We 
 thought you would, and are glad of it. When gentlemen 
 of distinction invite you to their houses, I hope you behave 
 with modesty and propriety, that you are not forward to 
 speak or to give your opinions unasked. Mr. Lyman, when 
 he was here, expressed an interest in you and wished you 
 to visit him often. I am willing that you should walk up 
 to Waltham some Saturday afternoon, and return to Cam 
 bridge Monday morning. Follow the maternal advice of 
 Mrs. L. You are young, my dear son, too young to be at 
 your own disposal, placed at a distance from your natural 
 guardians, from the friends that are most sincerely and 
 tenderly interested in your prosperity and welfare ; you 
 are exposed to temptations, and may be surrounded by 
 those that seek to ensnare rather than to guard and guide 
 you ; and though we have confidence in you, that we trust 
 will never be disappointed, we cannot but be jealous over 
 you and anxious for you. Remember, my son, you are 
 passing through a very critical period of life. Cherish the 
 fear of God, and commit yourself daily to his care and 
 keeping. Respect yourself. Do nothing in secret or in 
 company that will make you ashamed of yourself. Be 
 governed by principle, and not by caprice. Dare to stand 
 by, and do, and say that which is right, though you should 
 stand alone ; and if sinners entice thee, consent thou not ; 
 8* 
 
90 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 
 
 if they ridicule you, bear their ridicule manfully, covered 
 in your conscious integrity ; thus you will have peace of 
 mind, the approbation of the wise and good, protection from 
 above, and the love of your affectionate father, 
 
 " J. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 "June 16th, 1798. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, I believe I said nothing to 
 
 you in my last letter upon the subject of your giving up 
 mathematics. I would not by any means have you do so. 
 Study those and all other recitations as well as you can, 
 and if you cannot distinguish yourself, yet something will 
 remain that will be of advantage to you in your future life : 
 besides, you must not imagine that you cannot distinguish 
 yourself. You have been apt to think so in all the new 
 studies that you have undertaken, and the very thought 
 has a tendency to cramp your exertions and paralyze your 
 efforts. A scholar or a soldier should think nothing be 
 yond his reach, till he has made the most vigorous attacks. 
 I hope you will not get into a discouraged frame of mind 
 about your studies, nor from that, or any other cause, grow 
 negligent about them. 
 
 " I feel anxious for you, my son, and would do every 
 thing in my power for your good. If you should deviate 
 from the paths of virtue, and become an immoral youth, 
 you would hasten my gray hairs, and bring them down 
 with sorrow to the grave. I beg you would cherish the 
 fear of God, and a sense of your accountableness to him, 
 and forget not to pray to him daily. You must not follow 
 the great or the many to do evil, nor take your estimate 
 of things from the practices of men, but from the unerring 
 rule of God s word. May God bless you, my son, and 
 sanctify you. May he keep you from the snares of youth, 
 and the lusts that war against the soul. Be no stranger to 
 
TO HIS SON WHILE IN COLLEGE. 91 
 
 your closet, but with filial love and trust commend your 
 self to God, for his guidance and blessing. 
 "Your affectionate father, 
 
 " J. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 From the foregoing letters it would appear that the 
 father was not aware of the most serious dangers that 
 menaced his son in his college life, which, from some 
 disclosures lately made, arose from the skepticism then 
 prevailing in the college, from the unsettling of the faith 
 of every rank in society, through the prevalence of the 
 influences of the French Revolution. The old founda 
 tions of society were shaken, all reverence for antiquity 
 and for social order and religious faith nearly destroyed. 
 
 Whoever has read Judge Story s graphic description 
 of the college, and of the student s life there, in the re 
 cently published Memoirs of Dr. Channing, will be 
 aware of the influences that surrounded this youngest 
 son of Jllma Mater. Joseph was just four years younger 
 than Dr. Channing, and two years after him in college. 
 He was even smaller and more youthful in his appear 
 ance than his distinguished relative, and all the influence 
 that he could have acquired must have been purely in 
 tellectual. He entered the Sophomore class, and was 
 only one year in college with Channing, and was prob 
 ably wholly unknown to him except through the medium 
 of Washington Allston, the friend of both and the class 
 mate of Channing. 
 
 He was a member of the principal college clubs, 
 the Phi Beta, the Hasty Pudding, and the Adelphi, 
 before which last he delivered an address in his Senior 
 year, " Upon the Benefits of Diversity in Religious Opin 
 ions." His rank as a scholar will be indicated to those 
 
92 JOSEPH S RANK IN COLLEGE. 
 
 who are acquainted with the principles by which college 
 honors are awarded, by those that he received. At 
 the November exhibition of the Junior year, he had 
 part in a forensic assigned him; in the succeeding June 
 exhibition, an English oration ; " and the second part 
 in rank, but the first in interest," at the Commencement 
 when he graduated. 
 
 It was in college that he acquired a passionate love 
 of Shakspeare, and it was during the winter of his 
 Senior year that Cook was performing his principal char 
 acters at the Boston Theatre. Joseph resisted every 
 allurement of youthful pleasures, but he could not deny 
 himself that which was to him the highest intellectual 
 treat. He walked frequently of an evening into Boston, 
 went to the theatre, and walked out again at midnight 
 over the scarcely completed road leading to West Boston 
 Bridge, often with the snow and mud far above his an 
 cles.* 
 
 He was not so entirely cut off from all social influ 
 ences while in college as is the case with youths less 
 fortunate in friends. From Mrs. Dana, the relative of 
 his mother, and her family, he received the kindest wel 
 come at his weekly visit, which his father exacted from 
 him. I use that word because, to the diffidence and 
 bashfulness of boys of his age, social visiting is always 
 a severe trial. And to the kindness and condescension 
 of that excellent family he was indebted for a cordial wel 
 come, that removed the barriers between youth and age, 
 and made his intercourse with them easy and delightful. 
 
 His father also required him, once in each term, to call 
 
 * It should be observed, that the law requiring the undergraduates 
 to abstain from theatrical amusements was not then in operation. 
 
LETTERS OF HIS FATHER.- 93 
 
 upon the several college professors, Pearson, Tappan, 
 and Webber. These visits, although, from obedience 
 to his father, punctually paid, appear from Joseph s 
 letters to have been regarded with great repugnance. 
 
 The son had now entered upon his second year at 
 Cambridge, and the letters are much less minute in their 
 advice. He seems to have obtained the entire confi 
 dence of his father. The only difficulty was that of 
 meeting the expenses of a college life. The frugal boy 
 is still obliged to walk a part of the way to meet the 
 stage on his journeys to and from Cambridge, and every 
 letter contains advice to save and take care of his clothes. 
 
 1798. "I send you inclosed a three-dollar bill, which 
 I hope, with what money you have, will be sufficient to pay 
 alt necessary expenses till you get home. Your dress will 
 do well enough for exhibition. I hope you will command 
 attention by something better at that time than your dress. 
 
 " There are many clubs plausible in their institution, that 
 are prejudicial in their operation and consequences. I know 
 not of what kind those are of which you are a member, 
 but I know no club which ought at college to be very ex 
 pensive to the members, nor can they be beneficial if they 
 are so, for they must exclude the poor scholars, who are 
 usually the best." 
 
 " March 13th, 1799. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, I have been much more remiss in 
 writing to you this term than I intended or approve ; it is 
 not that I am less anxious or concerned about you than 
 I used to be, nor that I love you less ; but being immersed 
 in various cares and attentions besides that of my ministry, 
 I can hardly find time for writing. I hope you continue 
 to behave well, preserving yourself free from all those prac- 
 
94 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 
 
 tices which offend God and wound the conscience of the 
 unhardened sinner. It is my heart s desire and prayer to 
 God for you that you may be saved, and in order to this, 
 that you may be made to see your need of salvation, and 
 behold Jesus Christ as the author of it, committing your 
 self into his hands to be sanctified in the name of the Lord 
 Jesus, and by the Spirit of God. You are entering upon 
 the stage of life, not merely in days of great license of prac 
 tice, but in great prevalence of infidelity. To despise and 
 reject revelation, not so much by attempting to disprove it 
 by argument as to drive it away by wit and ridicule, is now 
 the fashion, and you will meet with many men of this 
 stamp in your literary and social interviews with those 
 who may be such fools as to wish there were no God. But 
 though you may not feel able or willing to oppose their 
 raillery, I pray you to clasp firmer the hope of sinners 
 in Jesus Christ. You have known the Scriptures from your 
 youth ; I hope you have sometimes felt their power to assist 
 and comfort. 
 
 " I do not mean to give you in letters the evidences of a 
 revelation ; but no tolerable account can be given for the 
 origin and existence of such books as the Gospels but their 
 being the communication of Jesus Christ to men, and a still 
 less tolerable one can be given of the present existence of 
 the Christian Church in the world. Hold fast your integri 
 ty and your love of God, and believe that they who honor 
 him he will honor, and they who despise him he will lightly 
 esteem. 
 
 " The name of your new little sister is Olivia. You ask 
 to spend next vacation at Mr. Freeman s. If your clothes 
 did not render it necessary for you to come home, I should 
 be willing you should spend one week at Judge Dana s, and 
 one week at Mr. Freeman s; but we shall be glad to see you 
 at home. 
 
 " Your affectionate father." 
 
TO HIS SON WHILE IN COLLEGE. 95 
 
 " May, 1799. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON. Your letter and its contents came 
 safe to hand by Friday night s mail, from which I conclude 
 you got safely and agreeably to Cambridge, and found all 
 things well. You seem to be concerned for my health, 
 and inquire anxiously about my sufferings from the disease 
 with which I was threatened when you left home. I write 
 sooner than I otherwise should, because I can tell you that, 
 after a week of considerable pain, I am now pretty well, 
 and have gone through the labors of this blessed day with 
 less fatigue than usual. I am glad to see you anxious for 
 your friends, and to enter with feeling into their circum 
 stances, and I hope you will cherish and cultivate a filial 
 and fraternal spirit more and more. You have parents that 
 love you and are deeply concerned for you, and you have 
 sisters that love you, and are deserving of your love ; and 
 though, from Providential circumstances, you have run far 
 ther before them in the race of knowledge than you have 
 of years, yet you should cherish an esteem and affection 
 for them, and do what in you lies to make them feel the 
 distance less, and love the brother more. It is good and 
 pleasantv for brethren and sisters to dwell together in unity, 
 and to be strangers to the passions of envy or contempt, 
 or the emotions that border on such passions. An elder 
 brother distinguished by advantages should be a mentor 
 to the little circle of home, and bear and cover the weak 
 ness and infirmities of those who are accidentally less in 
 formed than he. 
 
 41 I do not say these things, my son, from an apprehension 
 of any especial need of such caution in your case with re 
 spect to your dear sisters, much less to criminate or reproach, 
 but they are thoughts that may deserve your consideration 
 and render you more useful and happy. 
 
 " I have suggested that I was pleased at your anxiety 
 for my health, and desire to do every thing to contribute to 
 
96 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 my relief; but you must remember tbat, however dear or 
 necessary I may be to my children, I am mortal. Lean 
 upon no parent s arm that must be confined to Portsmouth 
 while you are at Cambridge, or who, however warm his 
 affection and ardent his wishes, is weak, erring, and mortal. 
 Put your trust in God, who is unchangeably the same, every 
 where present, and able to do exceeding abundantly for us. 
 The revelation of his will, and our duty, is supported by 
 evidence that has proved satisfactory to some of the great 
 est and the wisest of our race, who were accustomed not 
 to believe without evidence. Let me exhort you, my dear 
 son, to make this revelation your counsellor, and you will 
 find it a light to your feet and a lamp to your path. 
 
 " From some remarks you made while you were at home, 
 and the interest they had in your feelings, I feared you 
 were in danger of the fashionable folly of placing rea 
 son before revelation. Be on your guard, my son, and let 
 a thus saitli the Lord, or a plain Scripture declaration, 
 silence your objections and satisfy the craving of your 
 mind, and 
 
 Where you can t unriddle, learn to trust. 
 
 " Take care of your clothes, your health, your morals, 
 your soul ! 
 
 " Your affectionate father." 
 
 The caution to his son in his last letter, not to despise 
 the ignorance of his sisters, would have been necessary 
 to a brother less considerate and affectionate ; for how 
 ever devoted Dr. Buckminster was to the best interests 
 of all his children, he certainly cherished the Old Tes 
 tament or Hebrew ideas of the greater importance of the 
 culture of the male than the female intellect, which was 
 the prevailing sentiment of Puritan New England. Every 
 faculty of the sons of clergymen must be cultivated, for 
 
PURITAN IDEAS OF FEMALE EDUCATION. 97 
 
 they, perhaps, would be shining lights in the candlestick 
 of the Church ; but the daughters, they were only helps, 
 meet for man. The whole amount of a woman s learn 
 ing was but enough to enable her to read and spell the 
 English language, and to keep the family accounts. 
 Reading was taught well to every one of his family by 
 the practice of reading the Bible morning and evening 
 at family prayers, each person, beginning with himself, 
 reading two verses in succession. The servants were not 
 exempted from this custom, and every boy and girl ad 
 mitted to service in the family learned, at least, the art 
 of reading well. 
 
 From the prevailing notions which preceded and 
 reached almost to the time of which I write, the female 
 mind of New England was left almost wholly without 
 culture. The daughters of clergymen had some little 
 chance of intellectual improvement, by living more in 
 the presence of books, and having occasional inter 
 course with the learned of the lime ; but that only in 
 creased the embarrassing peculiarity of their position. 
 A country minister stands upon almost the lowest step 
 of social life, in regard to the pecuniary means of in 
 tellectual culture ; but in intellectual endowment, cul 
 tivated manners, and social influences, he must stand 
 with the highest, and hold intercourse with the most 
 cultivated. His family must share his position, what 
 ever it is, and his daughters must form tastes for refine 
 ment, for intellectual intercourse, and for cultivated so 
 ciety, which the total want of pecuniary means pre 
 vents them afterwards, as our society is constituted, 
 from enjoying. And only in peculiar and fortunate 
 cases are they able to indulge the tastes they have too 
 early formed. 
 
 9 
 
98 PURITAN IDEAS OF FEMALE EDUCATION. 
 
 The wholly secluded education that Dr. Buckminster 
 gave his daughters might have arisen from such consid 
 erations. Although he was active and instrumental in 
 establishing better schools for girls in Portsmouth, he 
 did not allow his daughters to go to them, nor to asso 
 ciate much with society of their own age. Perhaps 
 some lingering fondness for the kind of education their 
 mother had enjoyed remained in his mind, and he might 
 have hoped to reproduce a likeness to her in his 
 daughters. But the cloistered retirement of her chil 
 dren was not peaceful, like hers. However nun-like 
 their seclusion, it was not for the purpose of reading or 
 praying ; it was filled with domestic duties and the care 
 of younger children. Book-learning was the last neces 
 sity ; they had far other and humbler duties to learn, 
 and to perform. With an invalid wife and a small 
 salary, the moments for indulging a studious taste in his 
 daughters were few and far between, and for the most 
 part stolen. Such a family was indeed a school for 
 learning the humble and passive virtues. Patience, in 
 dustry, and carefulness were all taught, but a knowledge 
 of the world wholly excluded. Happy was it for him 
 that they learned contentment in their frugal, stoical 
 home, when, only a few years after, these elder daugh 
 ters were left, by the death of his wife, the guardians of 
 his comfort, and the mothers of his younger children. 
 There was then full use for the knowledge that could 
 not have been found in grammars and dictionaries ; 
 and the very small portion of elementary instruction 
 they had received in the learning usually taught in 
 schools served only to stimulate their exertions, in 
 after life, to acquire what had been denied to their 
 younger years. 
 
LETTERS WHILE IN COLLEGE. 99 
 
 Joseph had now entered upon his Senior year, and his 
 father had acquired so much confidence in him, that his 
 letters had become much less frequent. 
 
 "July, 1799. 
 
 " From what cause it arises I cannot say, but I have 
 never been so concerned about you, my dear son, since 
 you went from home, as I have this term of your ab 
 sence. Scarce a night passes but I am perplexed and 
 troubled in my sleep by some of the troubles and diffi 
 culties in which you are. involved. I hope it is not an 
 intimation that you are becoming less careful and regular 
 in your conduct, or less watchful against the seductions 
 of the world. You are passing through a period of life 
 that will probably give the complexion to the whole of 
 your future life. O my son, be watchful and prudent, 
 preserving an ever-living consciousness of the Divine om 
 niscience and omnipresence. I hope you will continue to 
 deserve the good opinion of the government of the College, 
 and pay them all due respect. I know they are the friends 
 of the Alumni, and you will one day think so. 
 
 " You propose hiring a horse sometimes to ride, lest you 
 should forget your riding. I would observe to you, that it 
 is a kind of knowledge not easily forgotten, and you cannot 
 hire a horse at Cambridge without considerable expense. 
 If you ride out in company, you will be in danger of meet 
 ing with accidents. I do not forbid your riding, but I advise 
 you to be sparing of this amusement. I hope you will 
 continue to be steady, uniform, and studious, and improve 
 the little remaining time you may have at Cambridge in 
 endeavouring to carry yourself forward in preparation for 
 usefulness in your future life. Be virtuous, wise, and pure. 
 
 " I fear it will be too much for you to think of walking 
 all the way home. If you will come to Newbury, and if I 
 can possibly leave home, I will come in the chaise for you ; 
 
100 ANXIETY OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 
 
 but you must let me hear from you again before vacation. 
 I am sorry you are not disposed to write more particularly 
 to your best friend. 
 
 " We all send you a caution not to be too venturesome 
 because you have a little knowledge of horsemanship. 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 "J. B." 
 
 The anxiety of Dr. Buckminster during the whole 
 of his son s course through college was so extreme, and 
 his charges to the boy to keep himself pure from youth 
 ful vices so often reiterated, that they may, to some 
 minds, imply a more than usual distrust of the purity and 
 integrity of his son. It can be explained without casting 
 a shadow of suspicion upon the ingenuous boy. 
 
 It may be recollected that it was observed, in the 
 early part of this work, that Yale College, while Dr. 
 Buckminster was there, was particularly open to the 
 charge of indifference to religious and moral observances ; 
 and added to his own recollections of college life were 
 fears arising from the tender age of his son, and the 
 danger of his being influenced by the example of the 
 older students. It was, too, the habit of his mind, aris 
 ing probably from his religious creed and the high ideal 
 standard he had formed for them, to doubt the strength 
 of principle of his own children. While his parental ex 
 pectations demanded every thing from them, his religious 
 creed forbade him to hope for any thing but a natural 
 amiableness, which, in the view of his creed, was of no 
 value. The writer does not recollect a single instance 
 of commendation of Joseph or of his elder children. He 
 became more indulgent as he advanced in life, and his 
 younger motherless children called forth all his tenderness. 
 
 Joseph had now entered upon his last term ; the time 
 
RESPECTING HIS CHILDEEN. 101 
 
 drew nigh when he must leave college, and his father 
 began to feel anxiety about his future course. He had 
 just completed his sixteenth year. He was very small 
 and youthful in his appearance. Schools were offered 
 to him in various country places, but his youth and still 
 more youthful stature he looked scarcely more than 
 twelve made his father unwilling that he should enter 
 upon school-keeping as the head and sole master. The 
 place of usher to Mr. Hunt in the Boston Latin School 
 was proposed to him, by friends in Boston, as an eligible 
 situation. 
 
 " June, 1800. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, I have this day received your letter, 
 and am glad you were disposed to enter so fully into your 
 feelings and wishes, to your best friend. Respecting the 
 principal subject of your letter, the disposal of yourself after 
 you leave college, I scarcely know what to write to you. 
 There are many things in the situation you propose that 
 would be doubtless agreeable, if you could be placed in it, 
 and they would not be unprofitable nor dangerous to a 
 person of more years and experience, of established prin 
 ciples, confirmed habits, and pious affections ; such as 
 the diversity of amusements, the variety of character and 
 company, the floods of books, the proximity to Cambridge, 
 etc., etc. But I feel a little anxious lest they should be 
 ensnaring to you, and a means of blighting the seed which I 
 hope is springing up to a respectable harvest in your future 
 life. The theatre has infatuating charms to a lively imagi 
 nation ; the company of the dissipated, both male and 
 female, is seductive to those who have not closed their teens. 
 You have four years, my son, before that period arrives. 
 
 " If you should ever know the heart of a parent, you will 
 know it cannot cease to fear. Parents are ready to say, We 
 have you in our hearts to live and to die for you, and often 
 9* 
 
102 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 afterwards strange changes take place in the feelings and 
 conduct of their children. 
 
 " If I were sure you would have virtue and firmness to 
 withstand the temptations that would assail you in Boston, 
 and prudence and piety enough to choose the company of 
 the wise, and wisdom enough to improve the advantages 
 you would find there, I should more readily consent to your 
 being there than anywhere else. Ask the opinion of judi 
 cious friends. Converse freely and independently with Mr. 
 Lyman. 
 
 u The part assigned to you at Commencement is, I con 
 clude, agreeable to you. If a subject is not given to you, 
 you must endeavour to fix upon one that will suit your taste 
 and years, and multum in parvo must be your study. 
 
 " We all love you, your father dearly. 
 
 "J. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 " June 16, 1800. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, Mr. Abbot says it would be very 
 
 agreeable to him to have you with him in the Academy, if 
 there should be an opening there. I do not altogether like 
 the situation in the Boston school. Mr. Hunt would proba 
 bly often be absent, and the government, as well as the in 
 struction, fall upon the usher. The salary at Boston may 
 sound great, but the expense of board and other expenses of 
 living would leave you but a small dividend at the end of the 
 year, I imagine. You had better lie upon your oars, and 
 wait for the opening of Providence, than to be precipitate. 
 Behave yourself well, and you will find employment. I 
 doubt not Providence will provide kindly and generously for 
 you if you wait filially upon the God of Providence. 
 
 "It is a little unexpected to be called upon for money. 
 I fear the advantages of your societies will not pay the ex 
 pense of meeting. The extra expenses of your family ex 
 ceed mine. I inclose five dollars, of which, and all others, 
 I hope you will be able to give a good account. 
 
LETTER OF KEY. DR. LOWELL. 103 
 
 "Let your last weeks at College, my son, be your best ; 
 such as you can look back upon in future with unmixed 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " Your affectionate father." 
 
 Joseph s course through college had been marked 
 with extreme industry, and the most careful regard to 
 the regulations and laws of the place. Of this it may be 
 sufficient to remark, that be never incurred any college 
 censure, and was not even fined till the last term of the 
 Senior year. He preserved his themes and exercises, 
 in number thirty-two. Many of them are humorous, a 
 few poetical ; but the marked progress in excellence 
 from the first to the last is very striking, showing how 
 much he was indebted to careful culture. 
 
 I am happy to be able to add to this account of his 
 college life the testimony of a valued friend and class 
 mate, the Rev. Charles Lowell, one among the very 
 small number of that class who have survived to the 
 present time. 
 
 " I first saw Mr. Buckminster in the summer of 1797, 
 when we were examined together, with three others, for ad 
 mission to the Sophomore class of Harvard College. He 
 was then but a little more than thirteen years old ; a boy, 
 with a sweet countenance, whose every lineament was 
 stamped with genius and intelligence, in age a boy, but in 
 intellect and learning mature far beyond his years. I was 
 myself but little older, yet I well remember his examina 
 tion, and, as well, that none excelled him. One incident that 
 I have not forgotten, though it is nearly half a century since, 
 indicated the keenness of his sensibility, and the laudable 
 ambition to excel which never left him. He had some hesi 
 tation in answering one of the questions propounded to him, 
 
104 LETTER OF REV. DR. LOWELL. 
 
 I feel assured it was but one, and he burst into tears. 
 One of the professors it was Dr. Pearson kindly came 
 to him, reassured him, and told him he had no cause to be 
 troubled. 
 
 " Thus commencing his college course standing in the 
 first rank, he sustained that rank unwaveringly to the end. 
 As a classical scholar he had no superior, if, indeed, he had 
 a rival. As a belles-lettres scholar he was unequalled. 
 4 In rhetoric and composition, one of his classmates writes 
 me, c I do not hesitate to say that he had the best taste and 
 tact of any in the class, and which even existed when we 
 first began our exercises in English composition ; and I think 
 he had more uniformly the marks of approbation from the 
 professor than any other. He was the best reader, and, in 
 my opinion, the best declaimer, in the class. He was 
 decidedly, he further says, a hard student, and a great 
 general reader. He was well read in history and geography, 
 and in the periodical works of English literature. 
 
 " In the exact sciences and metaphysics, his immature 
 age, or a want of taste for them, prevented his acquiring the 
 same distinction ; though another classmate tells me that he 
 recollects the surprise he felt at Buckminster s recitations in 
 Euclid. He could not understand how one so young could 
 demonstfate problems so difficult. But the truth was, he 
 had extraordinary powers, and his conscientiousness, as 
 well as his ambition and love of learning, led him to task 
 those powers to the utmost. He studied hard ; he was 
 faithful, and never, I am confident, went into a recita 
 tion without doing all, in the preparation, that he was able 
 to do. 
 
 " If he were equalled or excelled in mathematics or 
 metaphysics, yet, take him for all in all, I have no hesita 
 tion in saying he stood preeminent, the admiration and 
 pride of his classmates. He was much noticed by distin 
 guished scholars in the upper classes, and was fond of their 
 
LETTER OF REV. DR. LOWELL. 105 
 
 intercourse. The attentions of the late Judge Story to him 
 are particularly remembered. 
 
 " In his disposition he was social, but it never led him 
 into any excesses. He had a fine taste in music, and 4 his 
 flute and his song, as well as his conversation, are spoken 
 of by a classmate with much enthusiasm, and must be well 
 remembered by all who survive him. 
 
 " He had strong feelings and predilections, it may be 
 strong prejudices. He was frank and open as the day, ex 
 pressing his sense of what he deemed censurable sometimes 
 warmly and very independently, but never, I think, with 
 harshness. He escaped college censures, not because he 
 courted popularity with his instructors, or descended to what 
 was mean and dishonorable, but because he did his duty. 
 Consecrated to God from his birth, and early intended for 
 the Christian ministry, he was never forgetful, as I believe, of 
 his high destination. His fidelity and diligence in his studies 
 were not more remarkable than his exalted moral purity." 
 
 Another classmate says : 
 
 " Buckminster had strong feelings, prejudices, and predi 
 lections, and indulged both his likes and dislikes to a great 
 degree ; but on the subject of the latter he was prudent, 
 and seldom gave way to vituperation. But he was so 
 young in college, and was so interesting in his person, that 
 there was a species of halo that surrounded his character, so 
 that most of us were carried to a degree of enthusiasm in 
 our admiration of him, and we were hardly willing to make 
 a candid comparison of him with others. 
 
 " With respect to his tastes, I well remember that he 
 was very fond of Shakspeare and the drama, and a visit to 
 the theatre was the greatest gratification he could receive. 
 I do not think his argumentative powers were of the highest 
 order ; nor that he was fond of engaging in discussions of 
 that nature." 
 
106 QUICKNESS OF SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Another gentleman, afterwards an intimate friend,* 
 speaks thus of his first appearance at college : 
 
 " I well remember his first appearance at an exhibition in 
 his Junior year. His extreme youth, and the spirit and 
 talent and gracefulness of the performance, excited much 
 admiration. 
 
 " I was in the President s study when he sent for him to 
 announce to him his part for Commencement. He seemed 
 much surprised, burst into tears, and said he should never 
 be able to do it well. The good Dr. Willard, with the most 
 benign countenance, replied, in his homely way, If the 
 government, Buckminster, did not think you would do it 
 well, and do credit both to yourself and to the College, they 
 would not have given you this honorable part. " 
 
 The quick sensibility, which uttered itself so often in 
 his early youth in a spontaneous burst of tears, became, 
 after he was able to conquer its outward expression, an 
 extremely attractive feature in his character. It appear 
 ed in an intuitive perception of the feelings of others, 
 and an eager sympathy, which made him enter with zeal 
 into all objects of benevolent action. But I think it may 
 be said that he was never rash or precipitate. He 
 united in a remarkable degree quickness of feeling with 
 thoughtfulness and deliberation of judgment. He early 
 adopted his mother s habit of not finally deciding upon 
 any thing that deeply affected his feelings, till after he 
 had made it the companion of his pillow. 
 
 It indicates the public sentiment of the college, when 
 we observe that the exhibition oration upon Enthusiasm 
 is almost wholly confined to military enthusiasm, depre- 
 
 * William Wells, Esq., of Cambridge. 
 
COMMENCEMENT ORATION. 107 
 
 eating the example of France, in which he uses this 
 metaphor : u Like the lovely form of Apega, a single 
 embrace of France discloses the dagger in her breast." 
 The subject of the Commencement oration, u The Lit 
 erary Character of Different Nations," was too compre 
 hensive for the limited portion of time necessarily allowed 
 to one of many speakers. There are a few still alive 
 who remember the impression Joseph then made on the 
 audience "by his small, youthful figure, contrasted with 
 the maturity and extent of his knowledge, the correct 
 ness as well as brilliancy of his imagination, and the pro 
 priety and grace of his elocution." A short extract 
 may be pardoned from this production of a boy of six 
 teen, as the literature of Germany was hardly then 
 beginning to be known in this country. 
 
 " The literature of Germany is remarkable for its uni 
 versality. Exquisite poetic fictions, abstruse metaphysical 
 disquisitions, mathematical subtilties, and all the graces of 
 fine writing, flourish with exuberance amid the aristocracy 
 of the German Empire. A host of illustrious names contend 
 for the palm of excellence. Before the present century [the 
 eighteenth] German literature was confined to theological 
 wrangling, or to compilations from the works of others ; the 
 wheels of literature moved heavily, but of late years they 
 have rolled with such boldness and rapidity, that some 
 Phaeton must have seized the reins. 
 
 " Italy ! There are the graves of great men ! Yes, 
 where once the warm language of freedom breathed from 
 the lips of the Gracchi, the poor Catholic now mumbles his 
 Aves and Pater-Nosters. In that forum whose benches 
 once were filled with venerable judges, whose walls once 
 echoed the voice of Cicero, the owl now sits in judgment, 
 and listens to the eloquence of the wind. The race of Ital- 
 
108 COMMENCEMENT ORATION. 
 
 ian litterati is nearly extinct. Like the mammoth of Indian 
 tradition, they have traversed the Po, the Arno ; they have 
 spread their mighty power over other countries, but in Italy 
 their bones only are to be found at this day." 
 
 As he repealed these passages, his animated and 
 beautiful countenance varied with every change of topic, 
 which gave to it an eloquence it is impossible to for 
 get ; and when he ceased, the applause came not alone 
 from generous youths, but from grave and gray-headed 
 men. 
 
 It may seem almost impertinent to the reader to dwell 
 thus upon the production of a youth of sixteen. We 
 will close the account of his college life in the beautiful 
 language of another : * " Amidst the temptations of the 
 place, he gave an example of the possible connection 
 of the most splendid genius with the most regular and 
 persevering industry ; of a generous independence of 
 character, with a perfect respect for the governors of 
 the College ; of a keen relish for every innocent enjoy 
 ment, with a fixed dread of every shadow of vice. It 
 may be said of him, as has been remarked of a kindred 
 genius, f " that he did not need the smart of guilt to make 
 him virtuous, nor the regret of folly to make him wise." 
 
 * Thatcher s Memoir. t Pres. Kirkland, of Fisher Ames. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JOSEPH S. BUCKMINSTER. ASSISTANT IN EXETER ACADEMY. 
 
 THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. METHOD OF STUDY. LET 
 TERS. 
 
 1800. No arrangement could have been more agree- 
 Aged 16. abjg b ot h to father and son than that by which 
 Joseph was appointed Assistant in Exeter Academy. 
 It was returning to his second home, almost again within 
 sound of the parental voice, and to the family of Dr. Ab 
 bot, where there were friends- who had cherished his ten 
 der boyhood, when, at eleven years old, he entered the 
 Academy as a pupil, and who were now ready to encourage 
 and strengthen and fortify his youth. He always looked 
 back upon this period of his life as full of profitable in 
 struction, rich in friendships, and filled with religious 
 as well as literary associations. It was now, if at any 
 one period more marked than another, that deep relig 
 ious impressions were made upon his mind. He pro 
 posed to join his father s church, and was accepted, 
 without any doubts of his father as to the sincerity or 
 fitness of his profession. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, I proposed your desire to join the 
 Church the last Lord s day, and if you continue to wish to 
 give in your name as a follower of Christ, and explicitly 
 to confess him before men, the season for attending to the 
 solemn transaction will be the Sabbath after next. The 
 10 
 
110 RELIGIOUS PROFESSION. 
 
 transaction you have in view, my dear son, is a solemn and 
 interesting one, but it is a clearly incumbent duty, and there 
 fore its solemnity ought not to discourage us from it, but 
 only excite the most solicitous concern to perform it under- 
 standingly, sincerely, and with all our hearts. Give your 
 self up unreservedly to God through Christ, not only to be 
 saved by him, but to be ruled by him and to be his subject 
 and servant for ever ; relying upon the power of his grace 
 and the promised influences of his spirit to perfect his 
 whole work in your heart. Count the cost, consider the 
 price, and be strong in the Lord, and in the power of 
 his might. If he keep you, you will stand, your own 
 strength is weakness. Pray much, pray often, my son, and 
 God be with you. 
 
 " Your little brother was baptized last Sabbath, to whom 
 we gave the name of William. It was a solemn and a joy 
 ful Sabbath." * 
 
 This is the only letter of the father s that remains 
 during the period in which the son was Assistant at the 
 Academy. Joseph s proximity to Portsmouth, and very 
 frequent visits to his family, enabled his father to remit 
 that constant watchfulness of parental oversight. He 
 had learned also to trust and confide. Confidence must 
 be earned and won, even in the relation between father 
 and son ; and the son had now won, by his lovely and 
 obedient life, the full and perfect confidence of the anx 
 ious and perhaps too exacting father. 
 
 Of many prayers preserved among the papers of the 
 son, the following appears to have been written about 
 this time. 
 
 " O God ! pardon my foolish fears and my unreasonable 
 * William died at the age of ten months. 
 
SELF-CONSECRATION. Ill 
 
 desires. I have vainly regretted that which was not worthy 
 of remembrance, I have feared other evils than that moral 
 evil which can alone injure an immortal soul. The exter 
 nal circumstances of my life I leave submissively at thy 
 disposal, for thou knowest what is best for me, but I beseech 
 thee earnestly for that wisdom which cometh from above. 
 O God ! thou hast looked upon me from the throne of thy 
 compassion and the time was indeed a time of love. If 
 the events of my life should be disastrous, if my exist 
 ence should become every day less worthy of possession, 
 if all the blessings that hold me to it should loosen and 
 drop away, still the gift of Jesus, the hope of pardon and 
 perfection, the least glimpse of immortality and of living 
 in thy favor, would be themes of thankfulness which could 
 never be exhausted. O God ! should I live, may I live 
 to thee ; may I cherish every moment that passes, and con 
 secrate it to thy honor and the service of my fellow-men. 
 Assist me, unworthy as I am, in the performance of my 
 daily duty. Strengthen my weakness ; enlighten my under 
 standing ; direct my inquiries and awaken more and more 
 my zeal in the search of truth. May the fear of man, of 
 the honored and beloved, fade away before the love and 
 search after truth, thy truth, which is the most precious 
 thing, the inestimable jewel, before which all other things 
 grow dim and perish." 
 
 The personal recollections of the writer may now take 
 the place of record and tradition. She was now old 
 enough to be able to appreciate what she saw in her broth 
 er, and to recollect with distinctness the impression which 
 his youthful person and his intellectual manliness made 
 upon the circle of his friends. When the blessed day 
 came round that brought him to the parental roof, there 
 was seen a peculiar exhilaration, from the wrinkled vis- 
 
H2 HOME VISITS. 
 
 age of the old nurse, who caught him to her aged arms, to 
 the smoothed brow of his father, to whom the presence of 
 his son always brought the halcyon of peace. He never 
 praised or flattered, or showed any undue partiality, but 
 the mere presence of Joseph shed a tranquil satisfaction 
 through the whole family ; and yet it was nothing that he 
 said or did that diffused this spirit of content around. It 
 is related of Silvio Pellico, that, when he merely walked 
 through the wards of his prison, his presence was felt, 
 by the instantaneous change in the aspect of the prison 
 ers. The ferocious became human, the violent gentle, 
 the melancholy smiled ; such was the power of a beauti 
 ful nature. In Joseph it was the perfect freedom and 
 fidelity of his manners to his feelings; the transparency 
 of thought, word, and deed ; we felt in the presence of 
 a true being ; he seemed surrounded with that pure 
 living ether, in which painters enshrine their Madonnas 
 and Saints. There was such a peaceful unison in the 
 beaming sweetness of his countenance and the unpre 
 tending gentleness of his demeanour, he seemed in 
 deed an angel in disguise, come to diffuse a heavenly 
 fragrance over the homely and common cares of our 
 every-day life ; and if there was no pause in domestic 
 duties, there was a holiday in eyery heart. 
 
 The reverence that he had for his father was not 
 mingled with reserve and fear, as is apt to be the case 
 in families educated under the severe Puritan rule ; there 
 was something so genial, so joyous, in the son, that the 
 veil fell from the father s mind in his presence, and 
 they met as equals and confidential friends. 
 
 A young person who was much in the family at this 
 time, surprised at the ease with which he laid aside the 
 Puritan reserve of children towards their parents, ex- 
 
FILIAL AND FRATERNAL RELATIONS. 113 
 
 claimed, on one occasion, " Why, Joseph says any thing 
 to his father." And on the principle of saying any 
 thing, when his father informed him of his intention of 
 marrying for the third time, he answered, < Why, papa," 
 for he always preserved this childlike appellation, " I 
 believe you interpret the Apostle s injunction, to be the 
 husband of one wife, as a command never to be with 
 out a wife." His father smiled, and said he thought 
 it a good interpretation. 
 
 The distance in years, as well as in intellectual prog 
 ress, between himand his younger sisters was too great 
 for them to feel that familiar confidence with him that 
 he so much desired. They looked up to him as to a 
 superior being, while he made every effort to remove 
 their timidity and to increase their confidence in his 
 friendship and tenderness. Every thing that he left 
 in his humble home when he went to Exeter was cher 
 ished with miserly care, the simple drawings and prints 
 that he pasted on the wall of his bedroom, the chest 
 where he kept his boyish tools ; and even a small twig 
 that he stuck into the soil, in a very inconvenient spot, 
 was never allowed to be pulled up, and a large tree, 
 only a few years ago, attested the careful affection with 
 which "Joseph s tree" had been regarded. 
 
 These months spent in the instruction of youth at the 
 Academy he always regarded as of peculiar value, as 
 leading him to review and fix in his mind his own early 
 classical studies, and as giving him that accuracy and 
 readiness in elementary principles in which the prepara 
 tory schools of the country were at that time chiefly 
 deficient. He often repealed, that he considered it a 
 singular advantage to a young man to be able to fix that 
 10* 
 
114 THE INSTRUCTOR OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 
 
 which he had himself just learned more firmly in hit 
 memory by teaching it to another ; thus deepening the 
 first footprints of learning, before they were effaced by 
 the successive tracks of other sciences. 
 
 His extremely youthful appearance while a teacher 
 must have presented a strong contrast to the young men, 
 far older in face and limb, as they were in years, than 
 their instructor ; and this gave him at first an embarrass 
 ment that appeared in real diffidence and enhanced the 
 youthfulness of his aspect. He was almost discouraged, 
 as appears from one of his letters ; but he had already 
 learned never to shrink from any duty that he had delib 
 erately undertaken. 
 
 At this time he had the honor and privilege of being 
 the instructor of Daniel Webster. Mr. Webster, in a 
 manuscript memoir of his early life, says, My first 
 lessons in Latin were recited to Joseph Stevens Buck- 
 minster, at that time an assistant at the Academy. I 
 made tolerable progress in all the branches I attended to 
 under his instruction, but there was one thing I could not 
 do, I could not make a declamation, I could not speak 
 before the school. The kind and excellent Buckmin- 
 ster especially sought to persuade me to perform the 
 exercise of declamation like the other boys, but I could 
 not do it. Many a piece did I commit to memory 
 and rehearse in my own room, over and over again ; 
 but when the day came, when the school collected, 
 when my name was called, and I saw all eyes turned 
 upon my seat, I could not raise myself from it. Some 
 times the masters frowned, sometimes they smiled. Mr. 
 Buckminster always pressed and entreated, with the most 
 winning kindness, that I would only venture once ; but 
 I could not command sufficient resolution, and when the 
 
THE INSTRUCTOR OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 115 
 
 occasion was over I went home and wept bitter tears 
 of mortification." 
 
 What interesting thoughts does this description ex 
 cite, with all the gathered associations of so many years ! 
 The youthful teacher winning the future statesman to 
 exert that unsuspected power which has since had such 
 wide-spread and powerful influence. Did he discern 
 that noble intellect, that exalted genius, then concealed 
 in the bashful reserve of his pupil ? The sensibility that 
 made Webster shrink from display would have indi 
 cated to a penetrating eye the hidden power ; and the 
 persevering kindness with which the instructor urged 
 again and again that he would only venture once proves 
 that he was conscious there was much concealed that 
 only needed encouragement to bring out and make him 
 know his latent power. Mr. Webster was older than 
 Buckminster. Had the teacher been permitted to live 
 to observe the splendid career of the pupil, with 
 what pride would he have looked back to the moment 
 when his youthful voice soothed and encouraged the 
 diffidence of one afterwards so eminent ! 
 
 As soon as Joseph was established in the Acad 
 emy, he began the preparatory studies for the profession 
 which seems from his earliest consciousness to have 
 been his free, unbiased choice. The author of the 
 beautiful memoir of him already quoted says : u The 
 process of study and of thought through which he passed 
 in forming his theological opinions cannot be too much 
 praised. It is strange that a principle so natural and 
 so constantly observed in all the other sciences, that 
 of beginning with what is simple and clear, and gradually 
 proceeding to that which is doubtful and dark, should 
 
116 METHOD OF STUDY. 
 
 have been so often reversed in the study of theology. 
 He avoided as much as possible all the controverted 
 doctrines of divinity, till he had given himself a thor 
 ough initiation into the evidences of religion, natural 
 and revealed ; examined the nature and degree of the 
 inspiration of the sacred writings, in order to determine 
 what laws of interpretation are to be applied to them ; 
 taken a general survey of the questions connected with 
 the criticism of the Bible-; and sanctified all his investi 
 gations by the habitual study of the spirit of practical 
 religion. Having by these inquiries, together with an 
 accurate knowledge of the original languages, prepared 
 himself for the interpretation of the more difficult and 
 obscure parts of Scripture, he commenced the study 
 of them with the aid derived from a comparison of the 
 opinions of the best commentators, of different sects and 
 opinions. He now permitted himself to consult the 
 writers on dogmatic theology, and he has often told 
 me with what eager curiosity, with what trembling in 
 terest, he read Taylor and Edwards on original sin, 
 and pushed his researches into those higher speculations, 
 where so much caution is necessary to prevent the mind 
 from becoming enslaved to a peculiar system, and shut 
 for ever against the light of truth." 
 
 There is a note among his manuscripts describing the 
 manner in which he studied the Scriptures, which may 
 be worth describing. He began by the preliminary ques 
 tions relating to connection with other passages ; the 
 time and place and cause of the passage, and the cir 
 cumstances of the people and nation. Then he com 
 pared the various readings and settled the meaning of 
 the words, as well as he was able, by accurate translation, 
 division, and punctuation. Then, by philological notes. 
 
METHOD OF STUDY. 117 
 
 concise and explanatory, and by comparing commenta 
 tors, he endeavoured to educe the best meaning and the 
 true doctrine. Lastly, he added practical and moral con 
 clusions. 
 
 The above is quoted as giving a comprehensive view 
 of his method of study through the whole of his short 
 life. At Exeter he was but just beginning. He had 
 laid out a most extensive plan, which it would have taken 
 a much longer life to complete. He thought himself 
 but a beginner upon the outer threshold of knowledge, 
 and the wide horizon constantly opening before him and 
 constantly enlarging in advance of his eager footsteps. 
 He began every study with a most devout and humble 
 spirit ; and, of a very large number of prayers preserved 
 among his papers, many have reference to and were 
 written at the commencement of particular studies. Of 
 the result of his conscientious application of his powers 
 his sermons are now the only memorial, and it will be 
 seen, as we go on with this memoir, what advance he 
 made even in the short path he was permitted to travel. 
 
 But his professional studies, although holding a high 
 place in his esteem, were not allowed to encroach upon 
 the time which it was his duty to devote to the Academy. 
 He felt a warm interest in its reputation, and entered 
 into a correspondence with gentlemen who were ac 
 quainted with the English schools of the highest rank. 
 In a letter to the late John Pickering, written at this 
 time, he says, " The institution established here has, 
 of late years, from its ample endowments and from other 
 causes, such a degree of credit and respectability that 
 the trustees and instructors find it in their power to take 
 the lead of other academies in the country, and to estab 
 lish for themselves any course of study and system of 
 
118 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 instruction which they please." He received an an 
 swer from Mr. Pickering, and from Mr. King, then our 
 ambassador, who had two sons at Harrow school, an 
 ample account of the course of studies at both Harrow 
 and Eton schools. This was not a duty required of 
 him, but it shows the generous ardor with which he pro 
 moted the welfare of every worthy object. 
 
 That he was at this time a diligent student appears 
 from a journal, in which the books he read are recorded, 
 with remarks upon them. Unfortunately, a great part of 
 this journal is kept in a short-hand character. There is 
 a record of nearly three months in the journal, written 
 out in plain English.* 
 
 A letter of this period written to Mr. Frank Williams 
 affords the first intimation of his religious views and 
 preferences. 
 
 " Sept., 1801. 
 
 " MY DEAR FRIEND, If you had searched the recesses of 
 my heart, you could not have selected topics of correspond 
 ence more dear than those which filled your last letter. 
 The Chapel service was ever anticipated by me as one of the 
 richest sources of improvement which Boston, so fertile in 
 
 * From November 1, 1800, to January 20, 1801 : Priestley s Har 
 mony of the Gospels, Parts 1st and 2d. Cave s Primitive Christianity. 
 Whiston s Josephus, 4 vols. Studies in Hebrew. Made extracts 
 from Priestley and Josephus. Jew s Letter to Voltaire. Grolfus de 
 Veritate. Priestley s Corruptions of Christianity; twice. Do. Plain 
 Account of Lord s Supper; also, Kippis s Sermon on the same subject. 
 Made an abstract of Bythner s Institutiones Chaldaicse. Read Dean 
 and Otis on Prosody. Read the Pursuits of Literature. Read Latin, 
 and about six pages of extracts from Xenophon s Cyropa?dia in Dal- 
 zel s Col. Gr. Maj. I was confined by illness one fortnight, during 
 which time I read nothing but the history of Sir Charles Grandison. 
 Brought from home Beza. Leighton s Crit. Sacr. Butler s Analogy. 
 Newton on the Proph. Locke s Paraphrase. I desire to be thankful 
 that I have been able to do so much. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 119 
 
 such sources, could afford. The sublime simplicity of the 
 Liturgy ; the accuracy, elegance, and at the same time the 
 solemnity, of the style in whjph it is composed seem at once 
 to reconcile us to the ceremony of its forms and its repeti 
 tions, and exalt the soul irresistibly to feelings of devotion. 
 Add to this the deep and full tones of the organ, not when 
 sounding the wild fugue of an executioner, but swelling the 
 notes of celestial praise ; and where is the soul so narrow, 
 so sordid, that it perceives not an expansion, an enlargement 
 towards more exalted worlds ? The soul is borne along 
 without effort, on the full tide of song, as if itself were dis 
 solving into music, or, to give you a better idea of an inde 
 scribable sensation, we feel that we almost wish to die, to 
 dissolve into sound. 
 
 " But how shall I express to you my regard for the man 
 who fills the desk ? in private life so charitable, so benevo 
 lent, so catholic ; so full of the finer feelings of the soul ; 
 richly adorned with knowledge ; full of the most rational 
 candor, with an excellent taste, and, united to all this, a 
 judgment entirely independent; not parsimonious of re 
 proof, but gentle as a parent in the application. Devoted 
 to the young, like Socrates, he has often had an Alcibiades. 
 You acknowledge his remarkable pulpit gifts, the perspi 
 cuity of his discourses, the solidity of his reasoning, the 
 ingenuity with which his sentiments are defended, the gen 
 eral weight of the instruction that his sermons contain. 
 Eternal happiness attend him, my guide, philosopher, and 
 friend ! 
 
 " But, my dear F., I have ever found, where there is so 
 great a disparity of age as between Mr. Freeman and my 
 self, though there may be profound respect and a chastened 
 familiarity, there is still wanting that full congeniality and 
 unrestrained mutual effusion of sentiment that exist between 
 those of more equal ages. 
 
120 LETTER OF MRS. ABBOT. 
 
 " I confess to you I was very much pleased with some 
 passages of your letter which I was not prepared to expect 
 from your connections and habits of life. To obtrude a pious 
 sentiment or a religious impression, when we know it will 
 be made the sport of ridicule and insult, is not a merit or a 
 duty, but only an impertinence. Who would introduce an 
 Apostle to the gaming-table ? But to bear witness to our 
 Creator when circumstances demand, and to avow our be 
 lief when it is attacked, or when occasion justifies, is no less 
 the honor than the duty of a young man. I have often found 
 that the exclusive society of men of this world leaves me 
 little disposition to cherish the few sparks of piety which 
 have been kindled in my breast. In the midst of such 
 society our religious honor, if I may so speak, grows dull ; 
 a sarcasm against Christianity hardly wounds us. our testi 
 mony to the truth becomes more feeble. This, I say, I have 
 witnessed within myself, and forgive me if I was thus more 
 easily induced to believe it of others." 
 
 To his residence in Exeter at this time Joseph was 
 indebted for many valuable and long-enduring friendships. 
 That of the venerable Principal of the Academy and his 
 family were among the most precious acquisitions of his 
 life. After the lapse of nearly fifty years, Mrs. Abbot 
 writes of him thus : 
 
 " The relation in which he stood to us while Assistant at the 
 Academy was that of a most cherished and tenderly beloved 
 friend ; and although not a member of my family, yet no one 
 was ever welcomed with more heartfelt joy around the domes 
 tic altar than this favored son of promise. His very presence 
 brought with it a gentle and joyous exhilaration. After the 
 lapse of almost half a century, and with the mental infirmi 
 ties of age pressing upon me, I find it difficult to recall in 
 detail the many anecdotes which, perhaps, an earlier period 
 
FIRST ATTACK OF ILLNESS. 121 
 
 would have enabled me to retain ; but the time-hallowed 
 impression of his social and intellectual resources can never 
 be forgotten." 
 
 He was indeed, as his venerable friend expresses, u the 
 son of promise and the son of hope." He had just 
 completed his eighteenth year. He had been borne 
 along from year to year upon his father s hopes and 
 prayers ; he had passed through all preceding trials, and, 
 although so young, his character for all purposes of ex 
 cellence was fixed and decided. He had entered upon 
 that course of never-ending progress in virtue and knowl 
 edge, from which there was now no danger of his turning 
 aside ; he had begun the race upon that path whose light 
 shineth brighter and brighter unto the perfect day ; dawn 
 ing honors began to blush around him ; loving friends 
 stood ready to witness his progress ; his father relaxed 
 his anxious brow, and began to thank God for this " son 
 of promise " ; when suddenly, as by an arrow from the 
 cloudless sky, he was struck down by the fatal malady 
 that followed him afterwards, almost unrelentingly, to the 
 close of his short life.* 
 
 His illness excited universal sympathy in the Academy, 
 and the writer well remembers the consternation which 
 spread in the little circle of home, when the news of this 
 distressing event struck upon the hearts of parents and 
 sisters. While some anxious friends looked upon this 
 visitation as the wreck of all their hopes, and others 
 urged the immediate relinquishment of all mental effort, 
 and a total change from a studious to an active life, 
 while his father bowed submissively, but with stricken 
 heart, to the " sovereign will of God," the son was 
 
 * His first attack was in the Academy, in the autumn of 1802. 
 11 
 
122 FIHST ATTACK OF ILLNESS. 
 
 calm and undismayed. From a passage in his journal 
 we learn that he endeavoured to discern the designs of 
 Providence in this dispensation, to look upon it as a 
 check to all worldly ambition, and, whatever his future 
 success, as a perpetual lesson of humility. It was not 
 from ignorance, nor from insensibility to the appalling 
 nature of the malady, or the tremendous consequences 
 to which it might lead, that he received the stroke thus 
 calmly. How little they knew him who imagined it was 
 from ignorance, or from any thing but the humblest 
 acquiescence in the will of God, the following extract 
 from his journal shows. 
 
 " Another fit of epilepsy. I pray God that I may be pre 
 pared, not so much for death as for the loss of health, and 
 perhaps of mental faculties. The repetition of these fits 
 must at length reduce me to idiotcy ! Can I resign myself 
 to the loss of memory, and of that knowledge I may have 
 vainly prided myself upon ? O my God ! enable me to 
 bear this thought, and make it familiar to my mind, that, by 
 thy grace, I may be willing to endure life as long as thou 
 pleasest to lengthen it. It is not enough to be willing to 
 leave the world when God pleases ; we should be willing 
 even to live useless in it, if he, in his holy providence, should 
 send such a calamity upon us. O God ! save me from 
 that hour ! " 
 
 The passage above was never intended for human eye, 
 but after reading it we are deeply impressed with the 
 manliness of his future course. It was, indeed, the most 
 striking trait in his character. He never referred in 
 any manner whatever to his malady. It was never an ex 
 cuse from any, the utmost, mental exertion. It was never 
 allowed to diminish his usefulness, and hardly to impair 
 
LETTERS TO A CLASSMATE. 123 
 
 his cheerfulness. Only the sister who lived with him, 
 and whose watchful eye was scarcely ever closed, knew 
 how often his attacks occurred, and how he shook off 
 the languor and lassitude they left, and with serene brow 
 armed himself for the waiting duty. 
 
 Some extracts from letters to a classmate remain, of 
 this period.* 
 
 "Exeter, Sept., 1801. 
 
 "DEAR FRIEND, My feelings and habits are so much 
 changed since I wrote you last, that I have hardly one pas 
 sion in common with those which dictated my former letters, 
 except that of affection for you, which I hope to retain amid 
 all the reverses of life. Your last letter, though couched in 
 the gentlest language, was a severe reproach of my negli 
 gence in suffering a correspondence once so interesting to 
 languish in suspense. But it has ever been my fault to be 
 too much the slave of time and circumstance, and to suffer 
 the frequency of correspondence to abate without any dimi 
 nution of regard to my friends. My last letter to you, which 
 I have not to this day completed, I had wrought up with 
 considerable pains. It was a summary of arguments used 
 to confute Mr. Hume s assertion of the impossibility of prov 
 ing miracles by testimony. As I had begun it as much for 
 my own satisfaction as for your perusal, as fast as I matured 
 a paragraph I copied it into the letter. When this ingens 
 opus was nearly completed, as it lay loose upon my table, it 
 was by some mischance torn and mutilated, and rendered 
 wholly useless. About this time rny mind began to be oc 
 cupied with the idea of coming here, and my situation since 
 has left me neither the disposition nor the ability to resume 
 the subject. 
 
 " It is so long since I have made any effort in the way of 
 composition that the news of your having written two ser- 
 
 * Rev. Joshua Bates, D. D., late President of Middlebury College. 
 
124 LETTERS TO A CLASSMATE. 
 
 mons really alarmed me. Go on, my friend, and prosper, 
 and may the God of truth lead you into all truth, and 
 give you understanding in all things. As for myself, I 
 feel my literary enthusiasm abate by this change in my 
 situation ; the spoils of ancient and of modern learning are 
 snatched out of my hands, and he who once vainly and am 
 bitiously aspired to the name of a scholar is now reduced to 
 teach beggarly rudiments to the child, or to hammer the 
 higher branches into harder heads. The poor moments of 
 leisure which I enjoy will hardly admit of any close applica 
 tion, and if the approach of winter does not strengthen my 
 mind, with my body, I shall soon be obliged to look back 
 upon my past life and say, Fin! O my friend ! of all 
 the maladies of the mind melancholy is the worst. It is at 
 once the parent, the offspring, and the companion of idle 
 ness. 
 
 " If you ask what has been my course of reading since I 
 have been here, I could scarcely answer, as it has been with 
 out order, without interest, and without effect. I have read 
 about a hundred pages of Latin, about thirteen in Greek, 
 and the one hundred and nineteenth Psalm in Hebrew, 
 and consulted the Greek Testament about a dozen times. I 
 have made out to get through Montesquieu s Rise and Fall, 
 and one volume of Sully s Memoirs. 
 
 " If possible, I will spend a day with you in the vaca 
 tion, and we will see each other face to face. I love 
 better to converse than to write. If I should hunt up the 
 originals of my last letter, I will reduce them to some order 
 and send them. 
 
 " Farewell ! Yours, with unabated regard, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
 From the above letter it appears that the change from 
 the careless freedom of college life to the somewhat 
 irksome duty of teaching the beggarly rudiments was at 
 
LETTERS TO A CLASSMATE. 125 
 
 first not without its effect in checking the serenity of his 
 disposition. He suffered at first from that which is 
 always to men of rich endowments a vexing and irksome 
 employment. But he was able to convert it into a 
 source of mental improvement for himself, and into an 
 elevating and satisfactory occupation. 
 
 Another extract from a letter of this period to the 
 same friend follows : 
 
 " Exeter, March 1st. 
 
 "Indeed, my dear friend, the circumstances of your set 
 tlement evince that you still retain some of the wisdom of 
 the children of this world. I rejoice at it, because I think 
 that, by being relieved from the pressing cares of a scanty 
 subsistence, you will have leisure to devote to those pursuits 
 which are at once the duty and the dignity of a minister. 
 The age calls loudly for able defenders of Christianity. The 
 wild boar threatens to tear down the hedges of our vineyard, 
 and the laborers are ignorant and inactive ; they know not 
 how to use their tools for the culture of the vine or the de 
 fence of the vineyard. I hope, my friend, when the husband 
 man cometh and asketh for the fruit, we may all be able to 
 produce some of the richest clusters. When I think of the 
 duties and opportunities of a minister of the Gospel, the mark 
 to which they should press forward seems much more ele 
 vated than the attainments of many of our clergymen would 
 lead one to expect. Let us endeavour, my friend, to mag 
 nify our office, that it may, by the blessing of Heaven, prove 
 at least a barrier to that inundation of infidelity on one side 
 and enthusiasm on the other which seems to be sweeping 
 away all that we hold valuable. 
 
 " My reading has reference to the study of divinity, as 
 far as my little leisure will admit. My principal progress 
 has been in the La~tin and Greek languages. But I have not 
 the suitable books to prosecute such a course of study as I 
 should wish to mark out." 
 11* 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 JOSEPH S RESIDENCE AT WALTHAM. THEOLOGICAL STUD- 
 
 IES . CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER UPON HIS 
 
 RELIGIOUS OPINIONS, AND UPON HIS ENTRANCE ON THE 
 
 MINISTRY. PURPOSE OF RELINQUISHING HIS CHOSEN 
 
 PROFESSION. 
 
 1803. IN the midst of the perplexity arising from 
 Aged 19. tne father s reluctance that his son should con 
 tinue the laborious charge of instructor at Exeter and 
 at the same time the mental excitement of prepar 
 ing for his profession, Providence opened a way, and 
 the kindness of that excellent relative, Theodore Ly- 
 man, suggested the means, by which he could be re 
 lieved from the instruction at the Academy. Joseph 
 had ever found in him and in Mrs. Lyman almost the 
 interest and solicitude of parents. He had sometimes 
 spent a part of his college vacations under their hospi 
 table roof, and in the interval between his leaving col 
 lege and entering upon his duties at Exeter, their house 
 had been to him a home in parental kindness, and far 
 more than his own humble home in the attractions of 
 luxury and the access to refined society. These ex 
 cellent friends now interposed, and, while they desired 
 that he should live in their family, with leisure to pur 
 sue his studies, proposed that he and his father should 
 be relieved from the mortification of dependence by 
 
RESIDENCE AT WALTHAM. 127 
 
 the light task of instructing Mr. Lyman s two sons, 
 and preparing the elder for college. 
 
 It was in the beginning of the year 1803 that he en 
 tered Mr. Lyman s family as an instructor, and he 
 then \vanted a few months of completing his nineteenth 
 year. His residence at Exeter had given firmness and 
 dignity to his manners, and he had gained in stature 
 and in manliness of appearance. When the family re 
 moved to Waltham he accompanied them ; and in that 
 beautiful residence, surrounded with all the soothing 
 and strengthening influences of nature, he advanced both 
 in vigor of body and clearness of perception and in 
 tellect. 
 
 Amid the scenery of this lovely retreat, where land 
 and water are so sweetly blended, and the hand of taste 
 has almost created another Eden, it seems as though 
 he must have felt the peace of Eden. With the 
 luxury of leisure, the early morning hours for study, 
 and the quiet evening for reflection, soothed by the 
 murmur of the brook that ran near by, in which the 
 peaceful stars were reflected, the perfumes of fra 
 grant shrubs and the songs of birds blending with the 
 waving of the grass upon the gracefully undulating lawns, 
 it would seem as if the whole year must have been one 
 long holiday of tranquil happiness. And so it would 
 have been, could the kindness of disinterested friend 
 ship and the society of the refined and the cultivated 
 have made it so. We learn from passages in his jour 
 nal that this year of outward peace was one of great 
 mental trial. It does not appear what was the cause 
 of the conflict, but we can only infer that it was con 
 nected with the growing difference of his religious opin 
 ions from those of his father, which he knew must at 
 
128 THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 
 
 length be made known, and occasion that beloved fa 
 ther extreme pain. We do not know what secret con 
 flicts were going on in the soul amidst outward tran 
 quillity. The great battles of the spiritual life are usually 
 fought alone, and in silence. It is not while the whole 
 energies of the mind are employed in sustaining the 
 weight of the conflict, that descriptions of the battle 
 are given. It is afterwards, when they can be looked 
 back upon with calmness and with collected thoughts ; 
 and he did not live to draw lessons for others from 
 the work in his own soul. That which appears out 
 wardly is what must long before have been ripening in 
 the mind, and all that is seen is the fruit that falls from 
 the tree of life. ct The world hears only the rustling 
 of the leaves, beneath which the ripening fruit is con 
 cealed." 
 
 It was at this time, as appears from his journal, that 
 he made a thorough examination of the Trinitarian, 
 Socinian, and Arian hypotheses upon the person and 
 character of Christ, reading the standard Trinitarian 
 writers, and Priestley s History of the Corruptions of 
 Christianity, the Apostolic fathers, the contest of 
 Priestley with the Monthly Review, and Bishop Hors- 
 ley s Tracts. His journal gives a very full account of 
 these studies, and, could his own copies of the works 
 have been preserved, we should be able to see by re 
 marks and references how faithfully he compared and il 
 lustrated the various subjects. While engaged in these 
 studies he received the news of the death of Priestley, 
 and wrote in his journal : " Perhaps for the variety and 
 universality of his acquisitions he may be placed at the 
 head of the learned of the eighteenth century. Party 
 politics, that bane of every thing great and good, have cast 
 
EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNAL. 129 
 
 a shade over some parts of this great man s character ; 
 but I believe that posterity will do justice to his integri 
 ty, as well as his talents. But rather than lament a 
 loss of such magnitude, let the friends of rational relig 
 ion and religious liberty bless God for granting our age 
 such a strenuous and learned friend, and for continuing 
 him so long, the admiration and glory of science and 
 of religion in its various departments. " 
 
 He says in a letter to his father, about this time, that 
 he has read and thought upon the subject of the Trini 
 tarian hypothesis almost to distraction. The result of 
 his inquiries at this time seems to have been, that he 
 rejected Priestley s view of the pure humanity of Jesus, 
 and also the hypothesis of a Trinity in Unity. He 
 seems to have adopted the belief of the preexistence 
 of the Saviour, and of the connection of his life and 
 death with the pardon of sin, while repentance and 
 a holy life were also necessary to insure the favor of 
 God. 
 
 An extract from the journal of this period shows the 
 great admiration he felt for another work which he had 
 just studied with attention. 
 
 " February 22. Finished Hartley this evening. I have 
 not read the works of Bacon, Newton, or Aristotle; but if 
 I may be allowed to judge from the impression which this 
 work has made upon my own mind, it is the most wonderful 
 work ever completed by one man. Acute, ingenious, origi 
 nal in his theory, clear and decisive in his facts, deep but 
 impartial in his reasonings, unbiased in his conclusions, he 
 presents us with a work, the unassisted, but complete, pro 
 duction of one mind, explaining all the usual phenomena 
 of mind from a simple and undeniable principle, that of 
 association ; and by this clew guiding us through the mazes 
 
130 THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 
 
 of metaphysics and of morals. In fine, every part of his 
 work is the part of a consistent but stupendous whole. 
 Though the theory of vibrations may be wholly separated 
 from the system, it is most ingeniously interwoven with it. 
 The second volume is peculiarly interesting to the theo 
 logian, as it vindicates the ways of God to man. It contains 
 the only hypothesis which satisfactorily illustrates the in 
 troduction of evil and the nature of human actions; and, 
 to crown the whole, a rich and unusual vein of piety runs 
 through the work, which cannot fail to recommend it to the 
 serious . Christian. Thus I have ventured to record the 
 superficial decision of my feeble judgment. If I should 
 dare to point out the weaker parts, I should mention the 
 chapter on the terms of salvation, and some few passages 
 in the evidences of Christianity and some remarks on Evan 
 gelical counsels. I do not think his account of the love 
 of God either exaggerated, enthusiastic, or fanciful, espe 
 cially when he so often acknowledges that it is hardly at 
 tainable in the present life. His notions of refined self- 
 interest and its pleasures are not easily understood, and are 
 very inadequately explained ; and there seems to be little 
 propriety in making the moral sense a principle of action, 
 distinct, from the principles of benevolence, piety, and 
 rational self-interest. Of the notes of Pistoricus, it is 
 enough to say, that they are worthy to accompany the work 
 on which they comment." 
 
 The profound admiration and respect that Joseph 
 felt for Dr. Freeman has been already mentioned. 
 The latter being connected by marriage with his father, 
 he frequently invited the son to visit and pass weeks at 
 his house ; where his influence insensibly won upon the 
 mind and heart of the young man, so that he became 
 in some degree involved in the design of Dr. Freeman 
 
CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 131 
 
 to associate him with himself as a colleague, and finally 
 to leave the labors of the Chapel pulpit to him. He 
 had obtained a promise from him, that, with the consent 
 of his father, he would immediately assist him in reading 
 the Liturgy, and, as soon as he was licensed, he would 
 preach in his desk. When these circumstances came 
 to the ears of his father, they probably presented the 
 first certain confirmation of his fears, that his son was 
 imbibing the liberal sentiments of Unitarians, or " So- 
 cinians," as those who embraced Dr. Freeman s views 
 were called. Some misgivings naturally arise as to 
 the wisdom or propriety of making public letters, which, 
 like the following, revive the remembrance of an ancient 
 strife, and expose feelings and fears over which death 
 has sealed its calm silence. Such documents admit of 
 an unfair use in the sectarian strife which has not yet 
 ceased. But generous and considerate minds will ac 
 company their perusal with a candid commentary, and 
 will smooth over the seeming harshness of human judg 
 ments with the gentler spirit of Christian charity, which 
 they who feel their own need of it will ever be ready 
 to extend to the sincere and good. The struggle which 
 is to be exposed between earnest and serious convic 
 tions, formed through thought, study, and prayer, and 
 the tender sensibilities of filial love, grieved even by 
 dissent from a father s opinions, is too sacred a matter 
 for cold, controversial dispute. The revelations here 
 made may serve as an intimation of the gentler feelings 
 which were involved in the more passionate and conten 
 tious issues opened in our doctrinal warfare. 
 
 Dec. 3d, 1803. 
 kt MY DEAR SON, I have seen with anxiety, for a very 
 
132 CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 
 
 considerable time, your partiality to particular persons, and 
 have feared that your happiness would depend too much 
 upon the place of your destination. You should not think 
 any persons or place necessary to your happiness. You 
 should realize that the Divine favor and approbation are 
 the great prerequisites to happiness, and endeavour to be 
 prepared for any place to which God shall call you, with the 
 manifest tokens of his favor. If your years and experience 
 were such as to render it prudent to settle in the ministry, 
 and you had qualified yourself in the judgment of those 
 who license candidates, and you had made an experiment 
 of your gifts in less splendid and populous places than 
 Boston, I should not object to your supplying Brattle Street 
 desk, as they have desired ; though I think the situation far 
 from eligible for a young minister who would act in all 
 things with a wise reference to the account which he must 
 at last desire to give l with joy, and not with grief. 
 
 " As to the manoeuvre in School Street, for I can call 
 it nothing else, as it wears a singular complexion, so it ex 
 cites singular emotions. I fear you have suffered your 
 great partiality for Mr. Freeman as a man to warp your 
 judgment and seduce your heart respecting some of the 
 important doctrines of our holy religion, and the founda 
 tion of our hope as sinners. Could he have taken such a 
 step, unless he had believed it would be agreeable to you ? 
 Could he have been so ungenerous as to reduce you to the 
 situation, so painful to your feelings as a son, which he must 
 have known, without saying any thing to your father ? I 
 feel myself under obligations to Mr. Freeman and his 
 family for kindness to me in past days of distress ; but if 
 they are to be cancelled at such a premium as the delicacy 
 of conscience of my son, or of his being ensnared into 
 his system or principles, it would have been better for me 
 to have died without their sympathy. Could he have pro 
 ceeded so far, if he had not been possessed with the per- 
 
CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 133 
 
 suasion that you were favorable to his opinions ? opinions 
 which, in my view, annihilate the hope of every sinner, and 
 destroy all the energy of the Gospel to sanctify and renew 
 the soul. Could he flatter himself that a descendant of the 
 venerable and firm, though catholic, Stevens, and the inde 
 pendent and honest train of Buckminsters, could be induced 
 to aid in the support of sentiments that he did not believe, 
 or that he was so pliant that, by art and industry and flattery, 
 he could be moulded into any thing ? I confess, my son, 
 I feel myself hurt by this business ; especially that Mr. 
 Freeman, considering your extreme youth and your rela 
 tion to me, should take such a step, without ever hinting one 
 syllable of his intentions to me. I can excuse him upon no 
 other principle, than that he has never known what the heart 
 of a parent is. I hope you have resolutely and finally 
 stopped their proceedings. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. 
 If not, you must decline their proposal, and" at once excuse 
 yourself from their service. If Providence should spare my 
 life and yours, and give me any leisure from my present 
 crowd of duty, I will endeavour to devote some hours to you 
 upon this subject." 
 
 This letter enables us to understand the entry in Jo 
 seph s journal, of December 22d, 1803 : 
 
 " Went to Newton, [the residence of Dr. Freeman,] 
 Thursday, and returned on Saturday. This has been a 
 week of distress, from causes which I hope to look back 
 upon with satisfaction. O, that I could reconcile the com 
 mands of conscience, the claims of parental love, and the 
 wishes of fond and partial friends ! Let vanity yield to pru 
 dence and self-knowledge, and both be the offspring of hu 
 mility. O God, enlighten my understanding, purify my 
 desires, increase my single love of duty, and guide my 
 present steps ! * 
 
 12 
 
134 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Dr. Buckminster had urged upon his son his own de 
 sire that he should leave Boston at this time, where Mr. 
 Lyrnan s family always resided in the winter, and place 
 himself under the instruction of Dr. Lathrop of Spring 
 field, or Dr. Dana of Ipswich. 
 
 He writes to his son again, December 27th, 1S03: 
 
 " I was in hopes that before this time you had left Boston, 
 to which I fear you are too much attached, and that you 
 think a residence there too necessary to your happiness. 
 
 Fixed to no place is happiness sincere ; 
 T is nowhere to be found, or everywhere. 
 
 " Our happiness, my son, must be the result of doing our 
 duty, of submitting to God, and enjoying his favor, or we 
 should be wretched in palaces, nay, even in paradise. I 
 have heard nothing from you since I recommended your 
 going to. Dr. Lathrop s to spend some time. I think your 
 friends judge unwisely for you and for themselves by 
 urging you to preach, and especially in wishing you to 
 settle in Boston. Many will think that your remaining 
 there, and being exposed to the complimentary remarks 
 and the wishes that will be urged upon you, is an indication 
 of your desire to settle there ; and this will prejudice many 
 against you, and give them a distaste for your services, if 
 you should in future be called to preach there. Then, after 
 all that has been said and done, if your preaching should 
 not be acceptable in Boston, you will, I fear, be mortified, 
 and perhaps discouraged. If the plan I proposed had been 
 agreeable to you, it would have omened well for you ; but I 
 can do no more than advise, and refer all to God. 
 
 " If your heart is really possessed with the fear and love 
 of God, and you are willing, from love to Christ and the 
 souls of men, to be a partaker of the afflictions of the Gos 
 pel, and to be a laborer in any part of God s vineyard, and 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 135 
 
 are ready to offer yourself, you had perhaps better present 
 yourself for examination ; but whenever you begin to 
 preach, I would advise you not to begin in Boston. I pray 
 God to have you in his holy keeping." 
 
 Thus his father watched every avenue to, and was as 
 solicitous to guard the delicacy of, his son s honor, as 
 he was, careful to shield him from disappointment, and 
 to prevent him from experiencing the least mortification. 
 The next subject of anxiety is the application for the son 
 to preach at Brattle Street, Boston. 
 
 " December 31st, 1803. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, I have treated the idea of your preach 
 ing in Boston, or, indeed, preaching anywhere, at present, 
 as mere matters of Utopia ; but I received a letter this week 
 from Judge Sullivan upon the subject, in which he seems to 
 think there would be no inconvenience or impropriety in 
 your beginning in Brattle Street, and intimates that he had 
 suggested it to you, although he relieved me by observing, 
 that you did not give him any encouragement, or receive the 
 matter as a subject of serious consideration. 
 
 " Although I have supposed that you had thought of the 
 ministry as a profession, and it is perfectly agreeable to me that 
 you should enter it, if God has given or should give you the 
 necessary qualifications, yet, considering your extreme youth 
 and the state of your health, I have wished you to look upon 
 it as an object in the distant future. But if you have thought 
 of beginning to preach any time within these six months, 
 you should resolve to reside with some clergyman whose 
 company, conversation, and ministerial gifts would assist and 
 initiate you into some of the more private, as well as public, 
 offices of the profession ; then, when it shall be judged pru 
 dent or proper, you should come forward in some more 
 retired place, certainly not begin in the metropolis of New 
 
136 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 England. It is better tp have it said to us, c Come up higher, 
 than to have it said, Go down lower. I hope you will not 
 consent to that which has at least the appearance of vanity, 
 by making your first attempt in Boston, that your friends 
 will not urge it, and that you will not permit them to -urge it. 
 " You know, my dear son, that it has always been my 
 opinion that it would be best for you, as I think it is for 
 every student in divinity, to spend some time with an ap 
 proved and respectable clergyman before he begins preach 
 ing ; and I hope you will take some measures to study awhile 
 with Dr. Lathrop of Springfield. As to your qualifications 
 for examination, I have no doubt you would acquit yourself 
 so as to obtain approbation, and if I were as certain of your 
 having those qualifications for the ministry which God only 
 can give, as of your having those which are attained by 
 human industry and application, I should not object to your 
 offering yourself for examination. But you would come 
 with fairer prospects from under the wing, and with the coun 
 tenance, of some respectable clergyman, than from your 
 present residence. I hope God will be your guide and 
 guardian, and if he designs you for a laborer in his Vineyard 
 he will furnish you and send you forth. Let us hear from 
 you soon. Your affectionate, but anxious father, 
 
 " J. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 We have seen that Judge Sullivan consulted both 
 father and son upon the subject of the son s preaching 
 at Brattle Street, in December, 1803. The next step 
 was, that a committee of the Brattle Street Church ad 
 dressed themselves to the son, in the beginning of March, 
 1804, urging him to make his first trial there. Upon 
 which his father writes : 
 
 "March 19th, 1804. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, You have long had my opinion and 
 advice ; nor have I seen any reason to alter them ; and 
 
LETTER UPON PREACHING AT BRATTLE STREET. 137 
 
 though not delivered in that peremptory and absolute way 
 that used to be the custom in the treatment of children, they 
 were no less decided. If my advice had been regarded, and 
 you had passed the winter at Springfield or Ipswich, you 
 would have escaped your perplexities, and would have been 
 in greater readiness to meet the application of the Brattle 
 Street Church. I should now advise you to place yourself 
 with one of those gentlemen, and tell the committee in Bos 
 ton, that, as soon as your instructor thought proper to bring 
 you forward, you would commence preaching. It is, indeed, 
 absurd for them to fix their eyes only upon you. 
 
 " If you are qualified to begin to preach, the train of your 
 preparation has been a little singular, and you must como 
 upon the stage under that disadvantage. I can do nothing 
 for you, my dear son, in the perplexed and embarrassed 
 state of my family. If your mother were not so ill, I should 
 desire you to return home ; but her situation is such as to de 
 mand all my attention, beside the family being so encum 
 bered with nurses that little study could be done here. If 
 you cannot reconcile it to your feelings to go to either 
 of the gentlemen I have mentioned, why cannot you re 
 side a little while with Dr. Morse or with Mr. Homer of 
 Newton ? 
 
 " I should be glad to see some of your essays or disserta 
 tions upon some doctrinal points, if you have written any ; it 
 would enable me better to judge of your ripeness for your 
 public appearance. But, whatever you do, ask counsel of 
 God, and rest yourself upon his mercy." 
 
 Upon this request of his father, Joseph went to 
 Portsmouth, and, in various conversations with him, the 
 painful doubts of the son upon those points of doctrine 
 which the Calvinistic theology deems necessary for ac 
 ceptance with God became apparent. The son says, 
 in his private journal, that he could never dispute or 
 12* 
 
138 DIFFERENCES IN RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT. 
 
 argue with his father ; that such was his tenderness for 
 him, and* his habit of implicit acquiescence in all his 
 wishes, that disputing was as impossible as it would have 
 been to have disobeyed his orders in his childhood. 
 But when it came to direct question and answer, the 
 candor and honesty of the son would not permit him to 
 make use of any concealment or mental reservation. 
 
 The father was at this time oppressed by family cares 
 and anxieties. The long and dangerous illness of his 
 beloved wife was drawing rapidly to a fatal termination, 
 leaving him with a young and almost helpless family, so 
 that, when the fact of his son s departure from what he 
 believed the faith once delivered to the saints came with 
 conviction to his heart, it is not strange that he was 
 nearly overwhelmed. In the letters that follow, he seems 
 to have forgotten the ripening excellences of his son s 
 character, the comfort he had already enjoyed in his 
 docility, and the confidence he felt in the manliness of 
 his character, and, because a certain speculative faith was 
 wanting, to have regarded all the rest, to use his own 
 expression, as cc only filthy rags." 
 
 This difference in religious sentiment was probably 
 the severest trial to both that they could have met with 
 in the unclouded confidence, the transparent openness of 
 intercourse, that existed between them. Although it is 
 proper for the memorial of both that the correspond 
 ence should not be withheld, yet, as they were both of 
 one spirit, both loved their Divine Master supremely, 
 this difference of their faith respecting him never for a 
 moment impaired their love to him, or to each other. 
 They could never be far apart, for they stood upon the 
 same ground of intimate conviction of the greatest and 
 most important truths. God was next the heart of both. 
 
JOSEPH S FIRST SERMON, AT YORK. 139 
 
 But the one belonged to a particular system ; he was 
 trammelled by a theory, and he feared that his son would 
 be bewildered and lost, were he not also bound by the 
 faith of ancient creeds. Both possessed the same prin 
 ciple of inward, spiritual life. It came from the same 
 source ; it conformed both in thought, temper, and ac 
 tion to the inward oracle of right ; in both it led to dis- 
 intei*ested love of man, to high endeavour for the good 
 of others ; it gave strength to suffer to the one ; it gave 
 humility to bear success to the other. It has been said 
 that it came from the same source ; to continue the meta 
 phor, one drank it from the iron pipes in which man had 
 bent and checked the stream, the other from the pure, 
 freshly flowing river. We may believe that both were 
 channels of God s blessings to others, each performing 
 services equally acceptable in his sight. 
 
 Upon this visit at Portsmouth, Joseph preached his 
 first sermon, at York, in the pulpit of his venerable rela 
 tive, Mr. Lyman, the father of his step-mother. He 
 was disabled from preaching, and had long been con 
 fined to the house by a palsy ; but upon this occasion 
 he once more ascended, with tottering steps, the pulpit 
 stairs, to listen to his young relative. The occasion 
 and scene were made striking by the extremely youthful 
 appearance of the young preacher, his beautiful counte 
 nance radiant with genius and the expression of elevated 
 thought, and that of the aged minister, whose white hairs 
 were covered with a velvet cap, and who could not even 
 rise when the prayer was offered for him, that his 
 trembling steps might be gently supported through the 
 short descending path to the grave. They presented 
 almost the extremes of life meeting in one common pe 
 tition, for there were some present who thought the life 
 
140 THE ANCIENT MEETING-HOUSE 
 
 of the younger more frail and tremulous than even that 
 of the aged pastor. 
 
 There was a circumstance which the writer well re 
 members. Joseph, in reading the chapter from Scrip 
 ture, omitted a word, or substituted a different meaning 
 of some word, which the elder minister instantly cor 
 rected, by calling out in full voice the received reading ; 
 the other slightly smiled and went on. 
 
 This meeting-house and congregation of Old York 
 were both among the most ancient and primitive in the 
 country. The venerable old building is now replaced 
 by a modern structure, with slips within, and white paint 
 without. The ancient building was perfect in its icono- 
 clasm. The square, oaken pews, polished and dark 
 with age, were guiltless of all carpet, cushion, or se 
 ductive invitation to wandering thoughts ; the beams of 
 the ceiling were formed of heavy timber, roughhewn 
 into form. Beneath the pulpit was an inclosed seat for 
 the elders, two hoary-headed old men, with long, waving 
 locks. Upon the corner of these seats the old frame 
 for the hour-glass kept its place, the sands long since 
 run out and motionless. In front of these was another 
 square inclosed seat for the deacons, and facing them, 
 upon the floor of the meeting-house, were seats for the 
 singers. Within the childish memory of the writer, the 
 hymn was given out two lines at a lime, and sung with 
 pauses breaking the harmony of the verses. In each 
 pew, close to the mother s elbow, was the little wooden 
 cage, where the youngest child, still too young to sit alone, 
 was for tw r o long hours an infant prisoner. 
 
 Primitive as was the church, the congregation also 
 retained its Puritan aspect, as they arrived, one family 
 after the other, from their old farm-houses among the 
 
AND CONGREGATION OF OLD YORK. 141 
 
 hills. The wife, the sister, or the betrothed dismounted 
 at the old oaken block, close to the meeting-house door, 
 from behind her cavalier ; and the old family horse pa 
 tiently took his position outside, till the long service was 
 over. The old sexton in the porch, rope in hand, and 
 arrayed in his cocked hat, waited anxiously for the pas 
 tor ; when, quitting the bell, he preceded him, hat in 
 hand, to the pulpit stairs, and then, when the door was 
 closed, respectfully took his seat. All these ancient cus 
 toms passed away from our manners even before the Pu 
 ritan meeting-houses disappeared from the landscape. 
 
 The letters that follow were written immediately after 
 Joseph s visit to Portsmouth. It is to be regretted that 
 so few of the son s replies have been preserved. 
 
 June 25, 1804. 
 
 " MY UNHAPPY SON, I can pity you and pray for you, 
 but I know not how to help you, preparing to be a minister 
 of Christ, an ambassador of God, preparing to pull down the 
 strongholds of sin, to turn sinners from darkness to light, 
 and from the power of Satan unto God, and yet believing 
 that your Master is only a created being, or a delegated ~\ 
 messenger of Deity ! How faint must be your hope of suc 
 cess, how weak your expectations, how fallacious your con 
 fidence, striving to reconcile sinners to God, and yet pre 
 senting them with no other righteousness as the ground of 
 their hope of pardon and justification but their own, which 
 is but as filthy rags ! An awakened conscience will never 
 get ease upon such ground. Nor will the Church of Christ 
 be ever built up where the doctrine of justification is not 
 among the fundamental principles that are taught. A 
 worldly church may be built ; men may be formed to ex 
 ternal decency and order, but -the corrupt fountain of the 
 heart will never be cleansed, nor the soul formed to be a 
 
142 CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 habitation of God, where the doctrine of Christ s atonement 
 is disowned, or where it is not made the ground and cause 
 of communicating grace to men. 
 
 " You ask my advice when it is too late to give it. You 
 should have listened when I urged your studying with some 
 clergyman last winter. You have never had any proper 
 education for the ministry, and will feet the inconvenience 
 of it all your days. I would now urge your immediately 
 going to Springfield, were it not that I hear Dr. Lathrop is 
 not in a situation to take pupils ; but if you can be released 
 from Mr. Ly man s family, I would advise you to go to Dr. 
 Morse, or Dr. Dana of Ipswich, or to come home. 
 
 " As to preaching, I do not see how you can extricate 
 yourself. Your friends have committed you, by binding 
 you to a promise to preach at such a time. If the commit 
 tee of Brattle Street, or of any other church, should apply 
 to you with the view of hearing you in order to a settlement, 
 I advise you, as an honest man, (and this you seem desirous 
 to be,) to tell them plainly that you do not believe in the 
 proper Deity and Divinity of Christ, nor in his vicarious sat 
 isfaction and atonement for the sins of men, and I presume 
 they will trouble you no more ; or if they should, neverthe 
 less, urge you to preach, I advise you, in your first sermon, 
 to be explicit upon those points, and not make use of any 
 concealments or expressions that may mean any thing or 
 nothing. This will decide the matter with you ; you will 
 be able easily to relinquish your profession ; for I cannot 
 believe that the churches of Christ are so removed from the 
 foundation of the Apostles, and have so lost the principles 
 of the Reformation, that they would settle ministers who 
 deny the Divinity of the Head of the Church, or the price at 
 which it has been purchased and redeemed. If, therefore, 
 you preach where you have any reason to suppose the peo 
 ple hear you with a view to settlement, be open and ex 
 plicit. 
 
UrON THEOLOGICAL DOCTRINES. 143 
 
 " It is not for me to judge another man s servant, nor to 
 judge my own son, but I desire to receive it as a humiliating 
 rebuke from my Lord and Master, that he should so far con 
 ceal from you what appears to me the great, important, and 
 eternal truth, and pervert your judgment from the simplicity 
 that is in Christ. O that I may be removed from every idol 
 but God ! Your mamma is very ill. To God I commend 
 her and you, and trust he will give his grace to all. I know 
 he will be glorified in us, whatever be our life here or our 
 situation hereafter." 
 
 The son now informs his father that he has engaged 
 to preach, the succeeding Sabbath, at Waltham, for the 
 Rev. Dr. Gushing. After some domestic information, 
 the father replies: 
 
 "July 7, 1804. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, As to the unpleasant situation to which 
 you have reduced yourself, pledged as you are to preach, 
 I know not what to say. Indeed, you have always been so 
 reserved with respect to your opinions, jthat I know not what 
 you do believe, or what you would preach and say to your 
 fellow-men. How you can doubt those doctrines that lie 
 at the foundation of all the hopes of Christians I know not, 
 except from an injudicious course of reading. I am per 
 suaded you will think differently upon these doctrines when 
 you come to have more acquaintance with your own heart 
 and the hearts of others, and when you read the Scriptures 
 with this impression, which is certainly a just one, that they 
 were designed as a rule of faith and practice to men in 
 general, to the unlearned as well as the learned, to those 
 that are incapable of criticizing no less than to those who 
 by subtilty of reasoning make plain things intricate and 
 dark things plausible. Certainly the doctrine of the Trin 
 ity, as it is usually received, the Divinity of the Saviour, 
 and his propitiatory sacrifice for the sins of men, by whose 
 
144 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 righteousness we are justified and by whose grace we are 
 sanctified, are the most plain doctrines of Scripture, and 
 those who deny them are obliged to explain away the word 
 of God in order, with any show of plausibility, to support 
 their doctrine by the word of God. I am sorry you have 
 pledged yourself to preach. Read Dr. Bates s Harmony of 
 the Divine Attributes in the Work of the Redemption, and 
 put yourself under the instruction of some learned and 
 pious divine. Open your perplexities and difficulties to 
 him, but above all pray to God to guide you into all truth, 
 and to keep you from wounding his honor and his cause." 
 
 The son replies as follows. Would that we had more 
 of his filial letters ! 
 
 " Waltham, July 23, 1804. 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER, I received last night a letter from 
 Judge Sullivan, as chairman of the Brattle Street commit 
 tee, inquiring whether they might expect me, and at what 
 time, if any, I would engage to supply them. I should 
 have answered by letter, but Mr. Lyman thinks 1 had better 
 see him, which I shall do to-morrow, and endeavour to pre 
 clude all expectation of hearing me, and all hope of any 
 future consent to their wishes. 
 
 " You express your surprise at my ever having thought 
 of preaching with such sentiments as I entertain. I do not 
 exactly know what sentiments you suppose me to hold ; but 
 I have always considered it to be the object of the Chris 
 tian dispensation to lead men to virtue and holiness, and 
 that this also ought to be the great object of its ministers. 
 To this end the doctrines of the Gospel are auxiliary as 
 means or motives, without any intrinsic value in themselves, 
 or in the acknowledgment of them, except so far as they 
 lead to this great end, the promotion of Christian excellence. 
 Tf, then, I could believe that this great end could be attained 
 without insisting upon Jesus Christ being the most high God, 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 145 
 
 I felt no scruple on this score in endeavouring to bear a 
 small share in this honorable employment. If circumstances 
 should occur which would make it proper or necessary for 
 me to make an explicit avowal on this head I would be 
 prepared to meet them ; but if they should not, I conceived 
 it to be my first duty to recommend holiness by motives 
 which I could honestly urge, and leave my opinions upon 
 disputed points to the private inquiries of my hearers. I 
 wished not to deny other men s belief, but only to be ex 
 cused from preaching what did not make a part of my own. 
 Even under such circumstances I hoped, by the blessing of 
 God, to prove a servant not entirely unprofitable. , I did not 
 foresee, in its utmost extent, the pain which my skepticism 
 on some points would give you, and I trusted, perhaps, too 
 much to the influence of time, and to the tenderness of the 
 parental relation. 
 
 " If, however, as seems now to be the case, you think that 
 son unfit to be a preacher who, without supposing Jesus 
 Christ to be the Most High God, believes that he is an illus 
 trious person, enjoying a most intimate communion with 
 God, and possessing a peculiar relation to him, (a relation 
 which we can perhaps never justly understand,) constituted 
 also our infallible guide in faith and practice, and exalted 
 to be the dispenser of all spiritual blessings, and the future 
 judge of mankind ; if also, in your opinion, it is not suf 
 ficient for the purposes of Christian obedience, and of 
 love ajid gratitude to Christ s character, to consider his 
 death as the highest act of his obedience and suffering 
 for the benefit of sinful man, and as the ground on which 
 God chooses to dispense his pardon to the penitent, without 
 (Considering it as an infinite satisfaction for the offended jus 
 tice of God, separate from which God could not or would 
 not pardon sin ; if such, I say, be the nature of your views 
 on this subject, actum est de pr&dicatione. 
 
 " But I have already written and thought on this sub- 
 13 
 
146 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 ject almost to distraction. You will no doubt say, my 
 father, that I should have taken your advice last winter, and 
 put myself under the tuition of some clergyman. Perhaps 
 I ought. No doubt many of the perplexities of my present 
 situation would have been avoided, but others would per 
 haps have arisen, and the principal one might not have been 
 removed. Besides, in declining your proposal, I had the 
 universal sentiment of my friends here in my favor. Now, 
 it appears to me there is little difference between relinquish 
 ing the profession entirely, and committing myself to the 
 instruction of any clergyman under the uncertain hope of 
 attaining at last to those views of Christain truth which you 
 deem essential. 
 
 " I have employed almost every day since my return 
 from Portsmouth in reading the most orthodox works on 
 this subject, Edwards, Jamieson, Ridgely, etc., and from 
 what I know of the state of my own mind I despair of 
 ever giving my assent to the proposition that Jesus Christ 
 is God, equal to the Father. I have been thus explicit to 
 you, my dear Sir, that, whatever may be my future lot, I may 
 still retain the consciousness of having preferred the relin- 
 quishment of any prospect of fame arid preferment to the 
 slightest evasion or hypocrisy upon subjects deemed by 
 you so important. If this letter have any thing of a pre 
 sumptuous or dogmatical air, I pray you to forgive it, as it 
 has arisen from the desire not to be misunderstood. 
 
 " It is probable that I might get a tutorship at college ; this 
 would be congenial to my pursuits, and it is not probable that 
 I shall live to grow a burden upon their hands. I rejoice 
 to hear that mamma is better. If you can only satisfy your 
 self that I do not cease to be a subject of the grace of Goo 1 
 when I cease to be a Trinitarian, and let not this disappoint 
 ment prey upon your mind, I may still be useful and happy. 
 
 "Your dear son, 
 
 "J. S. B." 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 147 
 
 The sympathy of a reader is strongly enlisted alike for 
 the father and son, in this their mutual confidence, which 
 nothing impaired on the part of the son, and which 
 yielded on the part of the parent only to a most cher 
 ished conviction of the supreme importance of specu 
 lative opinions. What an exhibition have we here of 
 the different offices of the heart and mind in settling 
 the essentials of Christian belief! 
 
 To the foregoing honest and explicit letter the father 
 returned answer : 
 
 " July 30, 1804. 
 
 " MY UNHAPPY SON, If you are fixed and settled in 
 the sentiment that Jesus Christ is not a Divine person, nor 
 any thing more than a created messenger of God, and that 
 the business of his coming into the world was only to pub 
 lish truth, and to attest the truth that he published with his 
 blood, and give hope and confirmation of a resurrection, 
 but not to make atonement and satisfaction for sin, and if 
 there is no hope of your having different views upon these 
 points, it is best for you to think of some other profession 
 than the ministry ; you had better be a porter on the wharf 
 than a preacher with such views. 
 
 " You are young enough to turn your attention to the 
 study of law, or to the theory and practice of physic. I ad 
 vise you never to be a preacher with such an opinion of my 
 Master and his system, as a denial of his Divinity and his 
 atonement necessarily involve. I do not doubt, my son, that 
 men have had the real consolations of the Gospel who have 
 held different views of many religious truths, nor that men 
 have had serenity of mind in holding the grossest errors. 
 But the consolations of the Gospel cannot be enjoyed by those 
 who destroy the fundamental doctrines of tlie Gospel, and 
 he who does not build upon Christ as the foundation of all 
 hope, and upon his blood as the price of purchase, and the 
 
148 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 blood of cleansing from all sin, can have no solid hope of 
 salvation. Could you have been persuaded to follow a 
 different course of study, it appears to me these difficulties 
 would have been avoided ; but I have thought it my duty 
 to advise, rather than to insist, and if God should blast the 
 fond hopes that I have entertained respecting you, he will 
 be righteous. I desire to give up all into his hands : my 
 wife, my children, and my own soul." 
 
 Upon the receipt of which letter the son writes in 
 his private journal : u O God, assist, guide, and di 
 rect me what course of life to pursue ! Save me from 
 prejudice, from indifference, from ambition, and from 
 worldly views." 
 
 And to his father he writes thus : 
 
 " August 10th, 1804. 
 
 " My DEAR FATHER, Your last letter appears to be final 
 upon the subject of my preaching ; but as I have already 
 made an engagement to preach for Dr. Gushing, my ser 
 mon may also be a valedictory. It would be more con 
 genial to my feelings and pursuits to be a tutor at the 
 College than to study either of the professions you men 
 tion. My tastes are literary, and as. I am not ambitious of 
 riches, the salary, together with my own little fortune,* 
 would be amply sufficient, even if my health should fail 
 before the term of my existence. 
 
 " I cannot conceal from myself and from you, that this 
 termination of the expectations of friends, and, may I not 
 add without vanity, of the ample preparation I have made 
 for my profession, is a severe disappointment of my fondest 
 hopes. Yet the preparation may not be altogether lost. 
 If God should spare my life, I may be able to do some- 
 
 * Left him by his maternal grandfather, the Rev. Dr. Stevens. 
 
LETTER TO MR. SIDNEY WILLARD. 149 
 
 thing in diffusing a deeper love of intellectual pursuits, and 
 a purer taste among young persons of my own age ; and 
 the malady with which God has visited me is a perpetual 
 warning to me that I have no right to expect a long life. 
 
 " You must permit me to differ from you in the propriety 
 of declaring my views from the pulpit. I shall always be 
 ready to give an answer to private inquiries, but I conceive 
 that it would be only an arrogan-t assumption for the young 
 est of preachers to intrude upon a mixed audience views 
 that might be startling, that perhaps are not yet matured ; 
 and although I see no expectation of my ever becoming a 
 Trinitarian, further investigation may modify what is now 
 the subject of incessant thought and constant prayer. 
 " Your affectionate son, 
 
 "J. S. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 That Joseph was entirely sincere in his intention of 
 relinquishing, out of respect to his father, the profes 
 sion of his choice appears from a letter written, but per 
 haps not sent, to Mr. Sidney Willard, the Librarian of 
 Harvard College. 
 
 " Dec., 1803. 
 
 u DEAR SIR, I should have given myself the pleasure of 
 waiting upon you a second time before you left Portsmouth, 
 but I was not only unwilling to interrupt you while taking 
 leave of your friends, but the subject upon which I wished 
 to speak with you was in some degree private. You will 
 recollect that I then took the liberty of asking you, if you 
 intended to leave your present situation at Cambridge. I 
 should not have been so impertinent as to propose the ques 
 tion, except that I had heard it mentioned from several quar 
 ters that such was your intention, which I was the more 
 induced to believe, from knowing that you had been for some 
 time engaged in preaching. I sometimes indulge my in 
 clination for a residence at Cambridge, and the office of 
 13* 
 
150 PROPOSED CHANGE OF PROFESSION. 
 
 Librarian I have always thought would be most accommo 
 dated to the pursuit of my favorite objects. Perhaps it is 
 presumptuous in me to expect ever to attain it ; at best, my 
 prospect of success is so uncertain, that I have been induced 
 to give you this intimation of my wishes, presuming that 
 you will not think it impertinent in me to suggest them. 
 If your intention of leaving Cambridge depend upon cir 
 cumstances at present doubtful, you will greatly oblige me 
 by giving me notice of your determination whenever it is 
 decidedly formed. I will take the liberty, also, of requesting 
 you to inform me whether any application for the office 
 has yet been made. If my request should appear to you 
 in any degree improper, I must beg your pardon for troub 
 ling you with this letter." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 CHARACTER OF DR. BUCKMINSTER s PREACHING. EXTRACTS 
 
 FROM HIS SERMONS. LETTERS. 
 
 DR. BUCKMINSTER had now been settled in 
 Portsmouth twenty-four years, and during that 
 time he had been pursuing the usual quiet routine of the 
 duties of a parish minister, varied and rendered more than 
 .usually interesting by the state of the public mind in this 
 transition period of the country. The country was then 
 passing through those momentous ev r ents which finally 
 established its prosperity ; but while they were in prog 
 ress, they deeply agitated the minds of all men, and 
 laid upon public instructors a double weight of respon 
 sibility. It was then deemed proper, even indispensable, 
 that ministers should preach upon all subjects of public 
 and political interest, expressing their individual opin 
 ions with moderation, but with decision and independ 
 ence ; and it sometimes happened that ihey did not con 
 fine themselves to the bounds of moderation. There 
 were at this time very few newspapers, no reading- 
 rooms ; the public press was just beginning to be the 
 important instrument of good and of evil which it has 
 since become, and the preaching of the ministers, at 
 
 * This year the degree of Doctor in Divinity was conferred upon 
 Mr. Buckminster by the College of New Jersey. 
 
152 PREACHING OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 least in country places, was one of the great means of 
 instructing and informing the people in political affairs, 
 as well as in religious duties. 
 
 Since the period df Dr. Buckminster s settlement at 
 Portsmouth, the treaty had been concluded which fin 
 ished the war and established the independence of the 
 country. The terrible depression of public credit which 
 followed, and all the distressing embarrassments of the 
 period, he bore, together with his faithful parish, waiting 
 for better times for the full payment of his moderate 
 salary. The adoption of the Constitution ; the choice of 
 rulers, and of Washington as the first President ; his visit 
 to Portsmouth ; his retirement from the Presidency ; the 
 choice of John Adams ; the death of Washington, and 
 the subsequent celebration of his birthday and also the 
 commemoration of the day of his death, were signal oc-" 
 casions, upon all of which Dr. Buckminster preached 
 sermons which his hearers thought worthy of more 
 extensive circulation, and at their request they were 
 printed. 
 
 A sermon, preached by him at the time of the visit 
 of Washington to the Eastern States, subjected him, 
 from those who did not hear it, to severe censure. Dr. 
 Buckminster was not informed till late on Saturday that 
 the illustrious guest would worship at his church in the 
 forenoon, and the sermon was prepared in haste from 
 Psalm xxiv. 7, 8 : " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, 
 and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and the King 
 of Glory shall come in. Who is this King of Glory ? 
 The Lord strong and mighty ; the Lord mighty in 
 battle." 
 
 Perhaps the selection of the text was unfortunate ; 
 but to all who heard or read the discourse, it appeared 
 
OCCASIONAL SERMONS. 153 
 
 as far as possible from any intention to flatter. The 
 sermon was not introduced, as is usual, by the annuncia 
 tion of the text, but by an address to the people, con 
 gratulating them upon the safe arrival of the President 
 of the United States. The preacher says: 
 
 "We now see this illustrious patriot, like the father of a 
 great family, visiting its various branches to bless and to 
 be blessed, to start the tear of joy, and awaken mutual con 
 gratulations. He comes, not attended with mercenary 
 guards, like kings and emperors, who hold their dignity by 
 hereditary descent, who ever fear where no fear is, he 
 comes not in the triumph of military parade, to show the 
 spoils and laurels he hath won, but he comes triumphing 
 in the confidence and affection of a free and grateful people, 
 who, under God, hail him as the deliverer of their country, 
 and the protector of its liberties 
 
 " Too much respect, that falls short of religious hom 
 age, cannot be paid to one to whom we owe so much ; were 
 more to be offered, he would say, with the angel in the Rev 
 elation, l See thou do it not ! I am thy fellow-servant, and 
 of thy brethren that have the testimony of Jesus. Worship 
 God! 
 
 " Whatever distinctions there may be among mankind, 
 however indebted we may be to an earthly benefactor, they 
 all fade away before our Father ; For one God hath cre 
 ated us ; there is none in the heavens that may be compared 
 to him. there is none among the sons of the mighty that 
 may be likened to Jehovah. Permit me, then, my friends, 
 to take occasion, from this auspicious event of a kind Provi 
 dence, to excite your expectations, exalt your conceptions, 
 and solicit your preparation for the approach of that glori 
 ous character, who is the brightness of the Father s glory, 
 and the express image of his person ; who is so infinitely 
 exalted that it is the crowning excellence of the most per- 
 
154 DEEP REGARD FOR WASHINGTON. 
 
 feet and exalted human character to be his servant and dis 
 ciple. This I shall do by calling your attention to that sub 
 lime demand of the royal poet : 
 
 " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye 
 everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in. 
 Who is this King of Glory ? The Lord, strong and mighty, 
 the Lord mighty in battle. v 
 
 The sequel of the sermon was an exhortation to his 
 hearers to be prepared for that great coming of Jesus, 
 and to open the doors of their hearts to give him en 
 trance. And in conclusion he said, u that it was the 
 greatest distinction of their illustrious guest that he hon 
 ored the Saviour, and rendered homage to the Father 
 of all." 
 
 In as far as a man like him could permit himself to 
 cherish an almost idolatrous affection for any human be 
 ing, Dr. Buckminster felt that affection for Washington. 
 The only journey that he appears to have made while 
 tutor at New Haven was to visit the camp at Cam 
 bridge, where, indeed, his uncle, Colonel William 
 Buckminster, was ; but his object appears to have been 
 to see the illustrious man. Of the twenty-five sermons 
 that were printed during his ministry, six were devoted to 
 the character, and in public commemoration, of Washing 
 ton. Only twice does the writer remember to have seen 
 her father weep. The first time was at the death of that 
 great man. When the news of that sudden and disas 
 trous event reached him, tears, a flood of tears, impeded 
 his utterance as he attempted to impart the news to his 
 family.* 
 
 * It was his habit to send a copy of his printed sermons to Wash 
 ington. These were always acknowledged by a letter from the Presi 
 dent s own hand. 
 
EXTRACT FROM DR. PARKER S SERMON. 155 
 
 It \vas urged, at the death of Dr. Buckminster, that 
 the best legacy that could be given to his parish would 
 be a volume of his sermons. Such a gift was rendered 
 difficult by his habit of writing in a character, the key 
 to which was not understood. As his mind was highly 
 poetical, the character of his preaching was discursive 
 rather than argumentative. Scripture biography, espe 
 cially that of the patriarchs, w r as a favorite subject for 
 his sermons, in which his vivid imagination entered fully 
 into the picturesque Orientalism of their lives and char 
 acters. But David was the Scripture character in whose 
 poetical and devotional spirit he wholly sympathized, 
 The fervent piety and touching humility exhibited in the 
 Psalms of David excited in him the strongest emotion. 
 The poetry of the Scriptures was ever on his lips, and 
 much quoted in his sermons. 
 
 The w r riter is painfully aware that, where the space 
 is limited and the occasion admits of no more, detached 
 parts afford but a very inadequate impression of the 
 whole sermon. 
 
 Before giving any extracts from Dr. Buckminster s 
 writings, the opinion is quoted of one who had formed 
 his judgment from an intimate .acquaintance, and who 
 could not be suspected of partiality. 
 
 " The character of Dr. Buckminster s mind was strongly 
 marked. It had much originality. No person could be con 
 versant with him without noticing that strength of volition 
 which indicates superiority of intellectual endowment. His 
 mind was rapid in its operations and impatient of delay. In 
 the character of his mind he was qualified for distinction in 
 the departments of elegant literature. Such in his early life 
 was his taste for the attractions of music and poetry that he 
 seriously apprehended he should be drawn from solid useful- 
 
156 EXTRACT FROM DR. PARKER S SERMON. 
 
 ness of character, to enjoy the allurements of fancy. Under 
 this apprehension, he almost totally abstracted himself from 
 his favorite pursuits, and for Parnassus substituted Mount 
 Zion. In his sermons and in his services as a minister, 
 traces of a playful imagination were ever visible. He 
 seemed to delight to dwell upon the figurative language 
 and the rich imagery of Scripture, and to adorn the solemn 
 truths of religion with all the ornament that the sacred clas 
 sics could supply 
 
 " His sermons were not labored by art. His mind was 
 not accustomed to the regular management of argumenta 
 tive discourse. It was impatient of the forms of close inves 
 tigation and systematic reasoning. It glanced with rapidity 
 from one subject to another, and when truth was discovered 
 he was eager to give to it a practical effect. His discourses, 
 therefore, were often rather a collection of truths and ex 
 hortations deemed important and useful, than a systematic 
 arrangement of arguments and thoughts upon any particular 
 subject." * 
 
 It may be added, that the effect of his preaching was 
 to produce emotion, rather than conviction. Emotion is 
 necessarily transient ; and, although he was one of the 
 most eloquent of the Orthodox persuasion, there was no 
 revival in his parish during his ministry. 
 
 The first of his sermons that was given to the public 
 was upon the occasion of the National Thanksgiving, 
 appointed by Congress, December llth, 1783, after the 
 ratification of the treaty of peace with Great Britain. 
 It is remarkable for a eulogy upon Louis the Sixteenth, 
 " who, while Protestant powers stood aloof from our aid, 
 and, like the priest and the Levite, passed over on the 
 
 * From Dr. Parker s Funeral Sermon. 
 
DR. EUCKMINSTER S SERMONS. 157 
 
 other side, like the good Samaritan, rose to our assist 
 ance ; and, as a second Cyrus, offered his aid for secur 
 ing our liberties." 
 
 The next of his sermons which was printed was after 
 the death of Mrs. Porter, of Rye, the wife of one of 
 his brethren of the Piscataqua Association. She was a 
 lady of remarkable loveliness of person and character ; 
 and as she died soon after the death of his own first wife, 
 similarity of circumstances, and sympathy of feeling un 
 der the same bereavement, produced utterances of pe 
 culiar tenderness and eloquence. 
 
 Of the extracts that follow, the first is from a sermon 
 preached February 22d, 1800, the day appointed by 
 Congress to commemorate the death of Washington. 
 The North and South Parishes united upon this occasion, 
 and, as it was not the Sabbath, the sermon has more of 
 a political aspect than is usual. The theme of the dis 
 course is, that cc religion and righteousness, or justice, 
 are the basis of national honor and prosperity." 
 
 " Let us strive to preserve that American veneration for 
 God and his judgments, and a practical regard to that glori 
 ous system of truth and duty which he has given us. This 
 will be our wisdom and understanding; this will be the 
 means of our renown among the nations of the earth ; and, 
 what is far more, it will secure to the institutions of our 
 young republic a stability and permanency by the blessing 
 of Him, whose it is to make great and give strength unto all. 
 
 " May we not be encouraged to this duty by the fond, and 
 not, I believe, enthusiastic hope, that God designs America 
 as the honored and happy instrument of extending the ban 
 ners of truth and freedom, and of placing a barrier against 
 the flood of infidelity that has deluged so great a part of the 
 14 
 
158 ON PARTY SPIRIT. 
 
 Old World ? Do not the views and principles with which this 
 country was settled, its situation with respect to the nations 
 of Europe, the remarkable dispensations of Heaven in ref 
 erence to its religious as well as political interests, give ra 
 tional ground for this hope ? Without a prevalence of virtue 
 and justice, republics cannot exist; without religion, virtue 
 cannot prevail ; and no religion affords so firm a basis, or 
 exhibits such animating motives to a manly virtue, as that 
 which brings life and immortality to light, and holds forth 
 rewards and punishments stamped with eternity. If we re 
 tain any reverence for revelation, we must believe that^God 
 will preserve his Church in the world. He may remove it 
 from one place, but it shall be firm in another. The gates 
 of hell shall not prevail against it. 4 The kings of the earth 
 may set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, 
 against the Lord and against his anointed, but, in the sub 
 lime language of Scripture, He that sitteth in the heavens 
 will laugh, the Lord shall have them in derision ; then shall 
 he speak to them in his wrath, and vex them in his hot dis 
 pleasure. From these considerations, may not the friend of 
 religion, of good order, of liberty, encourage a rational hope 
 that God will yet maintain his throne among us, and display 
 his banner, because of truth ? And may not every such true 
 patriot be encouraged in every rational exertion to revive a 
 practical regard to all those dispositions and habits which 
 lead to political prosperity, of which religion and morality 
 are indispensable supports ? 
 
 " Let it not be thought a vain repetition if I again exhort 
 my enlightened and reflecting fellow-citizens to soften all 
 their unpleasant feelings, and merge all their party views in 
 a united veneration for God and his government, and in a 
 conscientious and exemplary observance of his laws and in 
 stitutions. Thus shall we prove, that, though we are men, 
 and liable to err, under the impressions to which humanity 
 is subject, yet we are indeed the friends of our country, and 
 
ON PATRIOTISM. 159 
 
 ready to do every thing in our power to secure to it the 
 shield and benediction of Him who can make a little one 
 to become a thousand, and a small one a strong nation. 
 
 " If there is any confidence to be placed in the deductions 
 of reason, or any credit to be given to the declarations of 
 Scripture, we learn from these remarks who are the true 
 friends of our country, and the means of securing to it na 
 tional honor and prosperity. The true friends of our coun 
 try are those who rationally and devoutly reverence, adore, 
 and fear God, and keep his righteous judgments and con 
 scientiously walk in his statutes and ordinances. I would 
 not be understood to insinuate that contemners of religious 
 duties, and even men void of religious principle, may not 
 have an attachment to their country and la desire for its civil 
 and political prosperity ; nay, they may even expose them 
 selves to great dangers and make great sacrifices to accom 
 plish this object ; but by their impiety they weaken the en 
 ergy of those inspiring principles that serve to ennoble, in 
 vigorate, and enlarge the public mind, and introduce prin 
 ciples that enervate and corrupt public sentiment. They 
 take away the heavenly defence and security of a people, 
 and render it necessary for Him who ruleth among the na 
 tions by righteous things in judgment to testify his displeas 
 ure against those who despise his laws and contemn his ordi 
 nances. In the present state of the world, fleets and armies 
 are necessary means of security and defence ; but they will 
 eventually prove a broken reed to the nation that despises 
 the God of armies, "and pours contempt upon his authority. 
 There is "fib "counsel, understanding, or might against the 
 Lord. The true fearer of God and worker of righteousness 
 is the truest friend of his country, and the means of her de 
 fence ; and when such is the character of the rulers of any 
 country, her renown will go forth among the nations, and 
 she may look for national honor and prosperity. 
 
 " This subject directs the honest, independent, and patriotic 
 
160 ON PATRIOTISM. 
 
 citizen in the exercise of his high birthright as a freeman, in 
 giving his suffrage for civil rulers. This, though a natural 
 right of man, is enjoyed but by a very small portion of our 
 race. They who are distinguished by this high privilege 
 ought to honor themselves by an honest and dignified 
 exercise of it, and not carelessly despise their birthright, 
 much less sell it at a less premium than a mess of pottage, 
 to answer the party purposes of ambition, or pride, envy, or 
 any other low passion. 
 
 " The character of a nation, then, my friends, is decided 
 by the character of its rulers, especially in a free and elect 
 ive government. If the rulers of a people are men of prin 
 ciple, who fear God and own his statutes, the nation will be 
 regarded in this approving light by Him who superintends the 
 affairs of nations. Every friend to his country, in the choice 
 of its civil rulers, should have his eye upon the faithful of 
 the land, upon such as fear God. It is to be expected, 
 other things being equal, that we should give our suffrages 
 for men whose political views accord with our own ; yet 
 scarcely could that man vindicate his claim to the meed 
 of patriotism who should give his suffrage to a man who 
 had no other claim to the dignified station of a civil ruler, 
 or who was destitute of the commanding influence of relig 
 ious principle" 
 
 A sermon which he preached before the general elec 
 tion, February 28th, 1796, upon the duty of republican 
 citizens in the choice of their rulers, from the text, 
 " Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful of the land," 
 drew forth very severe animadversions from some per 
 son of the Democratic party, in an anonymous pamphlet. 
 Although many of Dr. Buckminster s published sermons 
 are occasional, and upon subjects of public and political 
 interest, those of a domestic character have a more 
 tender and intimate reference to life. 
 
ON DOMESTIC VIRTUES. 161 
 
 A sermon upon domestic contentment, from the text, 
 " Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a 
 stalled ox and hatred therewith," Prov. xv. 17, was 
 printed, at the request of the young unmarried men of 
 Portsmouth, to whom the doctrine of the discourse was 
 peculiarly comfortable. The extracts that follow- are 
 from a sermon, also of a domestic character, preached at 
 the ordination of Rev. James Thurston, at Manchester, 
 1809. 
 
 " Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. John 
 xi. 5. 
 
 " There are Christians of different degrees of amiable- 
 ness, age, and stature. In this family, which was the ob 
 ject of our Saviour s special affection, there was a strik 
 ing variety of disposition. They are described by an able 
 pen. 
 
 " Of Lazarus much is not said. He seems to have been 
 a serious, solid, established professor of religion ; but the 
 two sisters are more strongly marked, more minutely 
 characterized. Mary, it is probable, had lately been called. 
 She was full of those pleasing, but often transient, emotions 
 which generally accompany the beginning of the Christian 
 life. Wondering at the gracious words that proceeded out 
 of his mouth, she sat at the feet of Jesus. The reverse of 
 all this was the defect of Martha. She was anxious and ea 
 ger. She was susceptible of domestic vanity, and therefore 
 too fond of parade and expensive entertainments, cum 
 bered about much serving. She was also fretful, and, by the 
 loss of temper, betrayed into such indiscretion as to break 
 in upon our Saviour s discourse, to complain to him of her 
 sister s negligence, and bring upon herself his friendly re 
 proof. Yet Jesus loved Martha as well as Mary. He knew 
 her frame ; he saw kindness reigned in her heart, and that 
 she was no less attached to him than her sister, though she 
 14 * 
 
162 ON CHRISTIAN CHARACTER. 
 
 had mistaken the best, the most acceptable way of express 
 ing it. 
 
 " Religion, though divine and perfect in its origin and ten 
 dency, is human in its residence, and in its exercises it re 
 ceives a tinge and complexion from the region that it occu 
 pies. If we withhold Christian affection till we find perfect 
 characters, the world must ever want that evidence, by 
 which, according to our Saviour s directions, they are to be 
 assisted in discerning his real disciples. And should we 
 not blush to demand what nothing but ignorance of ourselves 
 could prevent our knowing that we could not proffer in re 
 turn ? The reality of religion is not determined by the per 
 fection, but the sincerity, of its subjects. The best of men 
 are at best but rnen. The most advanced Christian is sancti 
 fied but in part ; and he who pretends to perfection is, by 
 the highest authority, pronounced perverse. Yet we are not 
 making an apology for sin. There is an essential difference 
 of character between him who hath tasted that the Lord is 
 gracious, who hath received Christ and believed in him, 
 and he whose spiritual senses have never been exercised to 
 discern the things of the Spirit of God. The former hates 
 sin and loves holiness ; he is dead to sin, and alive to right 
 eousness. He delights in the law of the Lord offer the 
 inner man. He receives with meekness the reproofs of wis 
 dom, and tests his character by repentance and reformation. 
 If we do not embrace such characters, with all their infirmi 
 ties, in the arms of Christian charity, we neither imitate our 
 Master nor respect his directions. He despises not the day 
 of small things. The bruised reed he does not break. He 
 gathers the lambs in his arms, and carries them in his bosom, 
 and succours and defends the most helpless of the flock. 
 He commands those that are strong to bear the infirmities of 
 the weak, and not to please themselves ; to be tender and 
 pitiful ; to receive him who is weak in virtue, and not per 
 plex him with doubtful disputations. The Christian minister 
 
ON FRIENDSHIPS. 163 
 
 should cherish this disposition towards all the lambs and 
 sheep of the fold, but it may be diversified in its exercise by 
 all the various circumstances and characters of his people. 
 Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. 
 
 " II. In this trait in our Saviour s character and ministry, 
 we find an apology for what is often imputed to ministers as 
 a fault. I mean a particularity, or what is called partiality, 
 in our friendships and affections. Few ministers escape 
 this charge, and fewer, perhaps, are free from deserving it ; 
 but the history of our Saviour certainly excuses and justifies 
 a kind and degree of partiality. While a minister is ready 
 for every office of ministerial duty, and has a disinterested 
 concern for all his people, and a Christian affection for such 
 as wear the livery of Christ, he is not bound to receive all 
 to equal intimacy, but may choose those who shall share his 
 more especial friendship and confidence. Jesus, doubtless, 
 had a sincere affection for all the Apostles, yet John is dis 
 tinguished as the disciple whom he preeminently loved ; and 
 he gave him, both living and dying, marked tokens of his 
 tender affection and confidence. John not only sat next him 
 at meat, but leaned on his bosom. And, when hanging on 
 the cross, Christ said to this disciple, Behold thy mother ! 
 and to her, Behold thy son ! and from that time this disciple 
 took her to his own home. 
 
 " Jesus was kind and attentive to all his followers, but 
 this family in Bethany seems to have been the place of his 
 frequent and most delightful resort. It is but just, however, 
 to remark, that the ground of this preference and delight 
 seems to be altogether laid in religion, and to be cemented 
 by their spiritual improvement, and their delight in the com 
 pany and conversation of the Saviour. If this be the dis 
 criminating line of our partialities, and we give the prefer 
 ence to scenes and circles where our appropriate duties and 
 services are most acceptable, though partiality be imputed to 
 us, we shall suffer little by the imputation. But if our pref- 
 
164 RELIGIOUS ENJOYMENT. 
 
 erences are influenced by a worldly spirit ; if the circles of 
 amusement, of social pleasure, or animal indulgence com 
 mand our choice, and we have men s persons in admiration 
 because of selfish advantage, we shall find nothing in the life 
 or example of our Saviour to give us countenance or excuse ; 
 nor will it be easy to shield ourselves from reflections upon 
 the genuineness of our affection, or the purity of our zeal. 
 " But did not the Saviour, it may be asked, attend festival 
 occasions ? Did he not sup with the rich and honorable ? 
 Assuredly ; and so may we. We are not to go out of the 
 world, because we are not of it. Happy will it be for us, 
 if, on these occasions, which duty and decorum call us to 
 attend, we can so have the example of Christ shedding its 
 influence upon us, that we may catch some favorable mo 
 ment to say something for his honor and the edification of 
 our friends. Though Jesus did not decline nor refuse these 
 occasions of festivity when they fell in his way, yet candor 
 will acknowledge that he never coveted them, and that he 
 ever converted them into purposes of religious and moral in 
 struction. The bosom of his beloved family, the retreat at 
 Bethany, had far superior delights for Christ. And the 
 Christian minister in the retired circle of Christian friends, 
 familiarly conversing and explaining the things of the king 
 dom, will think with more satisfaction upon the example of 
 his Master, than when mingling in the common resorts of 
 men, hearing or telling something new, or joining scenes 
 of hilarity and amusement. Jesus loved Martha, and her 
 sister, and Lazarus, and he expressed this distinguishing 
 affection by his familiar visits." 
 
 Near the conclusion of the sermon, he thus speaks: 
 
 " From the tenor of this discourse, my Christian friends, 
 you will conclude that I entertain fears that the private, so 
 cial duties of our profession, the minor concerns of our of 
 fice, command too little of our attention. If I mistake, or if 
 
ON PASTORAL INTERCOURSE. 165 
 
 the defects of one place do not apply to another, forgive me 
 this wrong. But the general genius and taste of the present 
 day for extravagant pleasures, the prevalence of a love 
 for elegance, splendor, and refinement, for literary distinc 
 tion and pulpit eloquence, increase my suspicions. These 
 ought to have their weight, and a share of our attention ; but 
 if the interviews with our people be suspended, or lose their 
 religious cast and complexion, our people will lose a great 
 part of the benefit of our public instruction, which, like seed 
 unwatched and unwatered, will yield but a scanty harvest. 
 Is not private visiting the principal engine of sectarian suc 
 cess ? Wandering from house to house, filled with zeal for 
 their peculiar principles and practices, they make them the 
 subject of serious and familiar conversation in all families 
 and circles that will listen to them ; accompanying their in 
 structions with great fervor of devotion and warm expres 
 sions of kindness for those who will join them. The tender 
 and thoughtful receive this spirit of proselytism as the spirit 
 of real religion, and thus they are seduced and led away 
 from the footsteps of that flock which has belonged to the 
 fold of Christ since the days of the Reformation." 
 
 We must indulge ourselves with one more extract, 
 which shows the Christian liberality and the catholic spirit 
 of Dr. Buckminster. It is from a sermon, preached at 
 a time of great sectarian zeal, respecting the Baptists. 
 
 " The unity of the Church does not consist in a unity of 
 sentiment upon points of doctrine, much less in uniformity 
 of worship or modes of administering its ordinances ; but 
 the unity of the Church consists in receiving and acknowl 
 edging Christ as its head, and submitting to all that we in 
 conscience believe he has enjoined, in partaking of his 
 spirit, so that sin is confessed, forsaken, and abhorred, 
 and holiness loved and pursued. Does not the Apostle sup- 
 
166 ON CHRISTIAN UNITY. 
 
 port this sentiment, when he exhorts to keep the unity of 
 the spirit in the bond of peace ? All real Christians, 
 doubtless, agree in certain great leading points of doctrine ; 
 but they may differ widely in their mode of explaining and 
 enforcing them. They have all drunk into the same spirit, 
 and are the subjects of similar exercises and affections ; but 
 they may worship in very different forms, and have various 
 opinions upon the rites and institutions of religion. We 
 should therefore be careful that our zeal for the unity of the 
 Church does not weaken its energy or destroy its beauty, 
 and that our attachment to the mere form of administering 
 instituted rites be not carried so far as to obstruct the en 
 largement of the Church. 
 
 " It is scarcely more reasonable to expect that men should 
 be perfectly harmonious in religion, than in any other mat 
 ter that interests and affects their passions. Considering 
 their different capacities, advantages, modes of education, 
 habits of thinking, and prejudices from various sources, it is 
 to be expected that they should have different views of truth 
 and duty. And in the enjoyment of that extensive religious 
 liberty with which this happy land is favored, and the uni 
 versal toleration of all sects, it is to be expected that differ 
 ent denominations should multiply among us, and support 
 themselves with a zeal that is usually attendant upon novelty, 
 and on a separation from long established principles and 
 forms. When success attends these, and they spread and 
 increase, other denominations are apt to kindle with the fire 
 of envy and jealousy, and to cherish a disposition to forbid 
 and suppress them. But the instruction of our Master is, 
 4 Forbid them not. If they acknowledge Christ as their Lord 
 and Master, and partake of his spirit, rejoice in the good 
 that is done, whatever irregularities attend the doing of it. 
 Every enlightened Christian is fully persuaded in his own 
 mind that the way in which he worships God is most agree 
 able to his revealed will ; but he is not to denounce those who 
 
EXTEMPORANEOUS PREACHING. 167 
 
 differ from him, nor think that they cannot be accepted of 
 God, while they conscientiously worship according to the 
 light and understanding they have ; nor should they refuse 
 to such the tokens of Christian fellowship, nor forbid their 
 exertions to promote the common cause of Christianity." 
 
 The extracts which have been given from Dr. Buck- 
 minster s sermons may hardly be thought to justify 
 or to account for the popularity which usually accom 
 panied and followed his preaching ; or to bear out the 
 assertion made by a surviving member of the Piscat- 
 aqua Association, that the associate at whose house 
 the ministers assembled more frequently selected him 
 to preach than any other, and that he was always ad 
 mired by the people. In answ-er it may be said, that, 
 as his manuscript sermons were written in a short hand 
 now impossible to decipher, the selections could only 
 be made from his printed sermons ; that these were 
 upon political subjects, or upon occasions which did 
 not admit of that spontaneous and impassioned eloquence 
 for which he was most admired in the village pulpits. 
 His habit was, at the close of his sermon, when he was 
 thoroughly imbued with his subject, to throw his notes 
 aside, and give way to that spontaneous flow of thought 
 which gushed up from his ardent soul. This led to 
 impassioned appeals to the conscience, to the hopes 
 and the fears, of his audience. In his printed sermons 
 there are few traces of that vivid imagination and ardent 
 temperament which distinguished his extemporaneous 
 performances. 
 
 Connected with his public ministrations was the deep 
 interest he took in the musical part of the worship of 
 the Sabbath. Almost his only recreation was the pro- 
 
168 LOVE OF MUSIC. 
 
 motion of the singing of his society. For this purpose 
 the choir were very frequently invited to meet at his 
 house. There was a large room in the parsonage, 
 originally intended for private lectures ; but as Dr. 
 Buckminster never held these in his own house, the 
 room was rarely opened except for the accommodation 
 of the singers, and he was exhilarated and delighted 
 when there was a full choir, and a tune or an anthem 
 was well performed. 
 
 In relation to this subject, a characteristic anecdote 
 is told of him. Musicians are proverbially sensitive, 
 easily wounded, and apt to take offence. Upon one 
 occasion, the pastor, or the singers, or the parish, had 
 unconsciously given offence, and the whole choir de 
 serted at once, without the least intimation of their pur 
 pose, leaving the seats empty on Sunday morning. After 
 reading the hymn as usual, and finding no voice raised, 
 he stepped again into the speaker s desk, and began to 
 sing alone. His voice was of a peculiarly sweet and 
 silvery tone, and thrilled through the whole building, 
 and touched every heart. He sang the whole of 
 the first stanza alone, but at the beginning of the sec 
 ond some timid voices were heard joining in from 
 different parts of the audience ; one after another the 
 voices were tuned, and before the hymn was finished 
 the whole congregation united in one burst of music. 
 It was remarked that the singing had never been so 
 agreeable, and that the society could dispense with the 
 services of the choir. The next Sunday all were in their 
 places, and, it is believed, with no explanation and no 
 complaint from the pastor. 
 
 During these years of Dr. Buckminster s ministry 
 
YELLOW-FEVER IN PORTSMOUTH. 169 
 
 events and circumstances touching more intimately bis 
 private ministerial duties took place. In the months of 
 August and September, 1798, a putrid malignant fever, 
 like the yellow-fever of Philadelphia and New Orleans, 
 prevailed in Portsmouth. It was confined to the part 
 of the town where most of the members of the North par 
 ish dwelt, and many of his most valued parishioners were 
 attacked. Consternation and terror prevailed through 
 out the town, and numerous families rushed into the 
 neighbouring villages, as they did formerly from the 
 plague in London. In the course of less than three 
 months one hundred and seven persons died in a popu 
 lation of about five thousand. In the midst of the uni 
 versal dismay, the physicians of the town were stricken 
 down by the disease. Dr. Buckminster remained with 
 his family, and used every proper means to prevent the 
 calamity from spreading. He was always, from early 
 morning to midnight, among the sick, serving and watch 
 ing, performing the part of physician and nurse, as well 
 as that of spiritual comforter. Often, in one day, after 
 having spent the night with the afflicted, and closing the 
 eyes of the dying, he was obliged to array the dead in 
 tbe garments of the tomb, to accompany them to their 
 last resting-place, and to speak words of comfort and 
 peace to sorrowing and trembling relatives. From 
 thence he returned wearied and exhausted to his family ; 
 but not till he had changed every garment, and submitted 
 to the processes for counteracting contagion. His meet 
 ing-house was not closed, as was the case with many 
 others ; he preached every Sunday, and devoted every 
 other hour to his sick and dying friends, of whom some 
 were among the most valuable of his parishioners ; but 
 his own family, with himself, escaped all illness. 
 15 
 
170 DR. BUCKMINSTER IN CONTROVERSY 
 
 Until after his death there was no division between 
 the Congregational churches of Portsmouth. The epi 
 thets Orthodox and Liberal, Calvinist and Unitarian, 
 were unknown between them. Not the most remote 
 insinuation is intended that the former state of things 
 was better than the present, for though union is better 
 than disunion, u disunion may indicate a better state 
 of things than is indicated by concord." Perhaps it 
 may be mentioned, as an unusual act of liberality in 
 another denomination, that the members of the Episco 
 pal society, the day after the fire that consumed St. 
 John s Church, met in Dr. Buckminster s meeting-house. 
 It was Christmas day, and they were without a Rector. 
 The service was read by one of their own number, and 
 the Doctor preached from the words, " Our holy and 
 our beautiful house, where our fathers worshipped thee, 
 is burnt up with fire." His sermon, from its sympathy 
 and appropriateness, gave great satisfaction. There were 
 other Christmas days when this church was without a 
 Rector that he was invited to preach, and the liberality 
 that asked and the courtesy that answered the demand 
 were mutual. 
 
 In the mean lime there were divisions in another form 
 which gave him much pain and perplexity. About the 
 beginning of the century a zealous and effective, but 
 very violent, Baptist preacher came to Portsmouth, and 
 made a strong impression there, dividing the congrega 
 tions and taking from Dr. Buckminster s society some 
 of his most valuable friends and church-members. The 
 two divines entered into a written controversy upon the 
 subject of adult and infant baptism, each supporting his 
 side of the argument with ability. At the close of the 
 controversy, Dr. Buckminster preached three sermons 
 
WITH THE BAPTIST DENOMINATION. 171 
 
 upon the subject, which were printed, from one of which 
 sermons an extract appears upon a preceding page. 
 
 Such an experience is one of the severest trials to 
 which a sensitive and conscientious minister can be sub 
 jected. It requires truly Christian liberality, and a 
 catholic spirit which rejoices in good, however done, 
 to see those for whose welfare he has earnestly labored 
 turn from him after years of friendship, to see the 
 tender seeds of piety spring up and ripen in hearts that 
 he has watched and guarded for many years, and, just 
 as the fruit is ready to be gathered, one who has neither 
 sown nor watered come in and reap the harvest. 
 
 The extracts which have been given from his ser 
 mons are a very inadequate and imperfect representa 
 tion of Dr. Buckminster s power in the pulpit. The 
 pathos of his voice, his earnestness of expression in the 
 beseeching appeals to the heart and conscience, uttered 
 with a power that would have spread terror in the 
 audience, if they had not been immediately succeeded 
 by pathetic entreaty to come to the fountain of refresh 
 ing waters, and to seek mercy from Him who is ready 
 to save, cannot be represented by any description. His 
 appeals to the audience reminded one of eloquent pas 
 sages in the sermons of Bossuet. To borrow the words 
 of a contemporary, tc It was no compliment to him to 
 say that his preaching was eagerly sought by the parishes 
 in neighbouring villages. When it was known that he 
 was expected to preach, no weather, however tem 
 pestuous, and no distance, however great, would keep 
 the farmers families from the Sabbath worship. The 
 village meeting-house was crowded with a rapt and 
 eager audience. Old people shed tears when they rec 
 ollected and mentioned sermons they had heard from 
 
172 LETTER OF REV. MR. FRENCH. 
 
 him in his youth, and hymns that he had read with pecu 
 liar pathos were cherished in the memory and repeated 
 many years afterwards. His prayers were spoken of 
 by the aged as having comforted and raised the spirit 
 far above the cares of earth ; they brought conviction 
 to the sinner, peace to the contrite, and a soothing tran 
 quillity to the mourning heart." 
 
 In speaking of Dr. Buckminster s ministerial gifts, 
 I have quoted the opinions of contemporaries, and re 
 lied upon the representations of others. A letter from 
 the Hon. Daniel Webster, who was, during his resi 
 dence in Portsmouth, a member of his church and a 
 constant attendant upon his preaching, speaks of him 
 thus : cc Of your father, his power and eloquence, his 
 appearance in and out of the pulpit, his graceful man 
 ners, his agreeable social habits, the fervor and glow 
 of his pulpit performances, I have a most lively and 
 distinct recollection." 
 
 Another,* the venerable survivor of the Piscataqua 
 Association of Ministers of Dr. Buckminster s time, 
 speaks of him in the following manner : 
 
 " I revered and loved him. His memory is very precious 
 to me. But you will need nothing from my recollections in 
 describing his noble person, his frank, intelligent, digni 
 fied, kind, and cheerful countenance, his unaffected and 
 engaging manners, his purity and stability of character, 
 his unvarying uprightness, his fidelity in the performance 
 of his Christian and ministerial duties, and the habitual 
 life of piety which in him was always apparent. 
 
 " He stood very high in the opinion and affections of 
 the Piscataqua Association. With nothing in his deport- 
 
 * Rev. Jonathan French, of North Hampton, N. H. 
 
LETTER OF REV. DR. LOWELL. 173 
 
 ment which savoured of self-seeking, he was venerated 
 and beloved by his brethren, and admired by their people. 
 At a period when ministers of the Association selected for 
 themselves the preachers for their several public occasional 
 meetings, Dr. Buckminster oftener than any of his brethren 
 was called upon to preach. I heard him frequently, and on 
 various subjects. The matter and the manner of his dis 
 courses were always eminently instructive and interesting." 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Lowell, still pastor of the West Church 
 in Boston, who may be supposed to differ in some points 
 from Mr. French, coincides with him in regard and ad 
 miration for Dr. Buckminster. He thus expresses his 
 opinion and his reminiscences : 
 
 " I do not know that I have been acquainted with one 
 of Dr. Buckminster s profession, who impressed me with a 
 deeper conviction of a sincere and heartfelt devotion to 
 the duties of his sacred office than he did. There was 
 nothing of trifling or levity about him, and nothing of aus 
 terity. He was grave, but not gloomy ; certainly not habit 
 ually so. I have always supposed that his natural dispo 
 sition was a cheerful one, and that, though it was sobered 
 and chastened by his religion and his trials, it was not essen 
 tially changed. 
 
 " In his person he was tall ; in his manners refined and 
 dignified, with a countenance indicative of high mental 
 superiority, as well as acute sensibility, with the kindest 
 affections. And he possessed all these. He was a remark 
 able man. Had he been ambitious of any other distinc 
 tion than that of a faithful minister of Jesus Christ in the 
 comparatively contracted sphere in which Providence had 
 placed him, he would have attained, I am persuaded, to 
 great eminence. 
 
 " In his preaching, he dwelt often upon the terrors of the 
 15* 
 
174 PRIVATE AND DOMESTIC HABITS 
 
 Lord, but if, as he should do, he made the violated law speak 
 out its thunders, by him, in strains as sweet as angels use, 
 the Gospel whispered peace. With his talents, and unc 
 tion, and noble presence, and clear, sonorous, flexible voice, 
 he could not fail to be an impressive preacher." 
 
 To these I must be permitted to add one more ex 
 tract. 
 
 " No one could be once in the presence of Dr. Buckmin- 
 ster and ever forget him. His noble and eminently strik 
 ing countenance, faultless in its symmetrical beauty, his dig 
 nified and graceful manners, made a deep impression, even 
 before his conversation had allowed one to form an opinion 
 of his eminent talents." 
 
 The most interesting part of his character was not 
 understood except by his own family. After the death 
 of his first wife, he was plunged for many months in deep 
 gloom. His second wife, after the first two or three 
 years of her married life, was almost always an invalid, 
 and occupied in rearing a young family. From these 
 causes she led a life of seclusion, so that there was not 
 that frequent intercourse between the pastor s family 
 and the younger members of the parish which would 
 have enabled them to see him in the most interesting 
 relations of life, where his tenderness and kindness 
 would have won their love, even more than his pub 
 lic ministrations commanded their reverence. Of his 
 domestic character only those who lived under the 
 same roof, and witnessed the spirit of accommodation, 
 the deep, fervent, but delicate and forbearing love in 
 every family relation, the genial humor, the playful 
 familiarity with which he treated his elder children, the 
 
OF DR. EUCKMINSTER. 175 
 
 patience and winning tenderness he showed the little 
 ones, could know that, whatever reverence he might 
 command in public, his fervent sensibility was the most 
 attractive trait in his character. The moment his clear 
 and musical voice was heard, the children were wild 
 with impatient joy to be in his presence ; and then the 
 infant was in his arms, the smaller children were climb 
 ing his knees ; and in their infantile complaints, no one 
 had the power of soothing like himself. The youngest 
 child was sent from home to nurse ; the distance was per 
 haps half a mile ; every day during the winter, when the 
 snow or rain did not actually descend with violence, the 
 little girl was brought home in her father s arms, and 
 carried back again in the afternoon by the same tender 
 guardian. And, with all his tenderness of feeling, it was 
 his deep sense of duty, of parental responsibility, that 
 made him so careful, so incessantly watchful, over his 
 children. 
 
 His habits were as exact as frequent domestic inter 
 ruptions, with a large family, could permit them to be. 
 He had almost a passionate love for gardening, and in 
 summer the rising sun usually found him there. His 
 were always the earliest pease, cucumbers, etc., and when 
 his little girls were old enough, he assisted them to keep 
 their small flower-borders rich and fragrant with early 
 blossoms. In the winter, the wood-pile was substituted 
 in the early morning instead of exercise in the garden ; 
 and young men, students of law in Portsmouth, among 
 them Daniel Webster himself, were invited to join him in 
 sawing wood. I believe, however, that, after one trial, 
 they gave him no opportunity to repeat the invitation. 
 
 It was his unfailing practice to finish his sermons be 
 fore noon on Saturday, and the afternoon of that day 
 
176 MINISTERIAL VISITS. 
 
 was given to visiting the sick or afflicted of the parish ; 
 other afternoons of the week were devoted to general 
 visiting. Those who had long been unable to attend 
 meeting depended upon their Saturday afternoon visit, 
 and were in the habit of saying that their Sabbath began 
 at the hour when their pastor came to pray with them. 
 
 I should leave a beautiful trait of Dr. Buckminster s 
 character untouched, did I omit to mention his tender 
 and respectful attentions to the aged. The parents 
 of his second wife dwelt at York, on the Maine side 
 of the Piscataqua River, eight miles distant from Ports 
 mouth. Madam Lyman was a most lovely example 
 of attractive old age. She retained the vivacity, the 
 quickness of perception, the gentle dignity, and the win 
 ning sweetness, which we are apt to think belong exclu 
 sively to the younger periods of life. She had been 
 educated by Mr. Moody of York, one of the distin 
 guished Puritan divines of our country, and she was 
 familiar with the old English poets ; quotations from 
 which she would frequently introduce into familiar con 
 versation. It may be thought that this would have a 
 ludicrous air of pedantry ; but the quotations were so 
 appropriate, so evidently suggested by the topic, that 
 they lost their formal air, and seemed, from her lips, the 
 only thing that could be said upon the subject ; her 
 son-in-law would often meet her quotations with others 
 of a humorous description, as he was almost as familiar 
 with poetry as herself. Dr. Buckminster visited these 
 aged relatives as often as once in two or three weeks, 
 and showed, by his respectful gallantry to his charming 
 step-mother, " that sixty was winning, as well as six 
 teen." 
 
 The impression may have been made in the early part 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTER. 177 
 
 of this memoir that he was subject to constant depres 
 sion of spirits. No impression could be more erroneous. 
 Only at two or three periods, during the whole course of 
 his life, did he suffer from nervous depression. At all 
 other times he was a most cheerful and fascinating com 
 panion. His company was sought by young and old, 
 and, in all social visiting, the pastor s presence was indis 
 pensable to the cheerfulness of the occasion. Parties 
 were not then so large but that each one might enter 
 into the amusement of the whole. His imagination was 
 so lively, his conversation so rich and varied, he was 
 so happy in allusions to subjects that arrested the atten 
 tion, and made a lasting impression of something valu 
 able, even when amusement alone had been sought, that 
 it may be safely asserted that his character, in its beauty 
 and goodness, was as eloquent a sermon as those that fell 
 from his lips on the Sabbath ; and his benignant counte 
 nance spoke a benediction upon all who looked upon it. 
 
 His remarkable unworldliness, and his persuasion that 
 sentiment is the treasure-house of happiness, and that 
 young ministers especially should have in reserve, for the 
 peculiar trials of their calling, the domestic affections, to 
 fall back upon as the surest of all resources, made him 
 think lightly of pecuniary cares. He used to encourage 
 his brethren, when their means were scanty, to give them 
 selves to their appropriate work, and to confide in the 
 Providence of God. He said, u As a general thing, it 
 is with ministers in regard to their livings as with the 
 Israelites of old in gathering manna. They gather, 
 some more, some less. He that gathers much has 
 nothing over, and he that gathers little has no lack." 
 
 A few of his familiar letters to his daughters close the 
 chapter. 
 
178 LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 
 
 "June, 1804. 
 
 " MY DEAR DAUGHTERS : It is unreasonable to expect 
 that you should know how much interested your parents are 
 in your welfare, or how anxious they are that you should 
 pass the critical and most important period of youth so as 
 to leave no painful or humiliating reflection for years of 
 more mature life. We are thankful that God has given you 
 (for we are indebted to him for all we have) healthy con 
 stitutions, and that degree of understanding that gives us 
 reason to hope, that, if you are not wanting to yourselves, 
 you may pass through the ordinary stations of life with repu 
 tation to yourselves, and with comfort and usefulness to 
 your friends. You have passed the more playful season of 
 youth, and are now in the seed-time of life, and as you sow, 
 so will you reap. While you are endeavouring to cultivate 
 and improve your minds, remember it is all with the ulti 
 mate view of improving your hearts. Hate every immoral 
 ity. Cherish an habitual sense of the presence of God, and 
 know that his eye is always upon you. He has said, * I 
 love them that love me, and they who seek me early shall 
 find me. Do not live without daily prayer. Do not pro 
 fane the Sabbath by entering into any amusement unbecom 
 ing the day 
 
 My dear children, I am anxious for you, and would do 
 every thing in my power to promote and secure your pres 
 ent and future felicity. If you are wise, my heart will re 
 joice ; if you are vain, foolish, and frivolous, you will mul 
 tiply the gray hairs on my head, and the sorrows in my heart. 
 To God I have often commended and do again commend 
 you, and pray that he would give you wisdom and grace." 
 
 "July, 1804. 
 
 " MY DEAR DAUGHTERS, The continued illness of your 
 mother rendering it inconvenient for her to write, I will 
 not let slip this favorable opportunity of addressing you. 
 
LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 179 
 
 Doubtless your situation, at this period of your life, is- highly 
 agreeable to you both, and I hope it will be improving ; but 
 this depends very much upon yourselves, upon your resolu 
 tion and unremitting care to form your manners, to repress 
 every awkward and ungraceful habit, to study what will make 
 you agreeable and useful to others, and qualify you to act, 
 not a frivolous and dissipated, but a dignified and useful, part 
 in life. Your dear mother used to say, that it was not any 
 one particular act or motion that characterized the lady. It 
 was not to walk well, to sit well, to stand well, or even to* 
 talk well ; it was the whole general effect of every action, 
 and motion, and word, that constituted and formed the 
 agreeable whole ; 
 
 * The thousand decencies that flow 
 From all her words and actions. 
 
 " There is danger, from all that you may see and hear 
 from young ladies collected from the different ranks and 
 walks of life, that you may imbibe prejudices against the 
 regular, retired, domestic life which you have hitherto lived, 
 and that you may contract a fondness for gayety and fri 
 volity. But be assured, my daughters, if contentment and 
 happiness are objects of desire with women, at any period of 
 life, they miss their aim if they live a life of folly, frolic, or 
 frivolity. If we were to live here for ever, there would be 
 no contentment in such a life ; but when we consider that a 
 few years must terminate our residence on earth, and then 
 we must give an account of the deeds done in the body, it is 
 the extreme of folly and stupidity. We are willing you 
 should share in the innocent amusements of your years, but 
 wish you to remember that your object should be to endeav 
 our to prepare to be useful in life, to minister to the comfort 
 of your connections, and the support of religion. Be good 
 and obedient to your instructors, careful observers of their 
 pleasure, condescending and affectionate to your compan 
 ions ; but be not dupes to their follies or whims. Be always 
 
180 LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 
 
 merry and wise. I am willing you should amuse your 
 selves, but be serious and remember you are old enough not 
 only to say, but to pray, your prayers. 
 
 " Your affectionate father." 
 
 Although there are some scores of such letters as the 
 above, addressed to his daughters while they were at 
 boarding-school, only a very few have been selected, as 
 a more faithful impression of Dr. Buckminster s char 
 acter is given by inserting those letters that are more 
 directly upon the subject of religion. 
 
 The tenderness of the father for his daughters in 
 creased as he advanced in life. One of his younger 
 girls having been sent to Boston, for the purpose of at 
 tending a dancing-school for one quarter, the anxious 
 father wrote to her at least every week, and sometimes 
 more frequently. 
 
 " August 22d, 1811. 
 
 " MY DEAR F.. Having no mother to write to you and 
 advise you, you must suffer a father, as far as he is able, to 
 attempt to supply that inexpressible loss, and I am persuad 
 ed, my love, that you will respect his counsel. My object 
 in sending you to dancing-school is not so much that you 
 may learn to dance, as that your manners may be formed, 
 and that you may be able to conduct yourself with propri 
 ety. I was very much gratified to receive a letter from 
 you, the first you have ever written to papa ; it came safe, 
 and was a very pretty letter. I noticed that it appeared to 
 be written in a great hurry, but such things will happen 
 when ladies are full of business and full of cares. Though 
 I am desirous you should have an education that will enable 
 you to appear without blushing in the society of your equals, 
 and form you to be useful and agreeable, yet my principal 
 concern should be that you may be educated to know God 
 and Jesus Christ, and be trained up to fear, love, and serve 
 
LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 181 
 
 him. I hope, my daughter, you will not forget the religious 
 education you have received, nor neglect to read the Bible 
 every day, and pray to God to take care of you, and bless 
 you, and keep you from offending him, while you are grow 
 ing up to serve him in this ensnaring world. Be sure I shall 
 pray for you, love, every day, and it would be a pleasure to 
 me to know that you prayed for your father and your broth 
 ers and sisters. I hope they pray for you. I know they 
 love you. Be a good girl, and every body will love you. 
 
 " I hope you will retain your affection for Portsmouth, 
 and, though contented wherever you stay, you will always 
 give the preference to your father s house till you get one 
 of your own. 
 
 " I preached yesterday to my people from Timothy s 
 knowing the Scriptures from a child. He was an excellent 
 youth, and this early religious knowledge was a principal 
 cause of his excellence. The Bible gives good directions 
 for our worldly comfort and prosperity, and it is the only 
 book that shows how sinners may be forgiven and made 
 happy. It says, and there never was a juster saying, that 
 1 favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that 
 feareth the Lord, she shall be honored ! 
 
 " We all send love, from the oldest to the youngest, by 
 
 " Your affectionate father." 
 "September 2d, 1804. 
 
 "My DEAR F., I have so many cares and avocations, 
 that I have but little time to write. I am sorry, when you 
 have so much time on hand, that you should stand upon 
 punctilios with papa. If you knew how much I love you, 
 and am concerned for your welfare, you would think of 
 me every day, pray for me when you prayed for yourself, 
 and write to me whenever you could. I send you alittle 
 book with an address on one of the blank leaves from your 
 dear father s heart ; if you have never seen it, I hope it 
 will please you ; if you have seen it, yet, for your father s 
 16 
 
182 LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 
 
 sake and your own, you will read it again and again. But 
 there is no book, my dear Frances, like the Bible. Let no 
 business nor pleasure, no company nor care, prevent your 
 reading and recollecting some part of it every day. Other 
 books may make us wise for this world, but this, believed 
 and obeyed, will make us wise to salvation, through faith 
 that is in Jesus Christ. If others neglect the Bible, or speak 
 lightly of it, O, do not you ! Remember who has said, What 
 shall it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his 
 own soul ? 
 
 " I find you have a desire, my little daughter, to attend 
 the dancing-school ball, and I would not so far thwart your 
 inclinations as to forbid it ; but I would caution you against 
 thinking that to figure at a ball is any essential part of a 
 lady s education, who intends to form the refined and ele 
 vated character which I hope it will be the ambition of my 
 daughters to attain. No lady is at any time more respected 
 for distinguishing herself in these sportive exhibitions. I 
 sent you to dancing-school, in the hope that you would ac 
 quire an easiness of mariners that would render you grace 
 ful and respectable in the formal or the family circles that 
 you may be connected with in life. 
 
 " I presume, by your letter to one of your sisters, that 
 you have been to the theatre. I hope the edge of your curi 
 osity is taken ofF, and that once will suffice for such an 
 amusement. The theatre, my dear daughter, is a dangei- 
 ous place for young women, although it is the fashion to 
 praise it, and talk about those who distinguish themselves 
 there. Yet who esteems an actor upon the stage ? Who 
 ever came home from a play better fitted in mind or heart 
 to read the Bible, pray to God, and lie down upon his bed 
 prepared for sleep or death ? 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 "J. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 JOSEPH S. BUCKMINSTER. HIS THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. HIS INVITATION TO BRATTLE STREET 
 
 CHURCH. HIS ORDINATION. 
 
 1804. NEARLY a year had passed since the corre- 
 
 Aged 20. spondence we have inserted between the father 
 and son,* and while domestic cares pressed heavily upon 
 the former, the sorest of all his disappointments was the 
 wavering and unsettled faith of his son upon some doc 
 trines which the father believed essential to true piety, 
 to the culture of the religious affections, and to all use 
 fulness and success in the profession he had chosen. 
 
 It has been seen that Joseph did not pursue his stud 
 ies in the customary manner, which, as there were no 
 schools of theology at that time, was usually by residing 
 in the family of a clergyman, and studying divinity, as 
 law and physic were studied, under the direction of a 
 master. As the study of divinity was almost wholly 
 technical, that is, the study of the forms and phraseology 
 which the divine science had taken in the hands of man, 
 two or threfe years was ample time to furnish a candidate. 
 Joseph seems early to have taken a more liberal view 
 of the studies requisite to his profession. In one of his 
 college themes there is a humorous description of the 
 
 * Pages 131-150. 
 
184 JOSEPH S. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 manner of finishing a candidate for the ministry. He, 
 on the contrary, thought that no culture could be too 
 generous for this, in his estimation, the most noble of 
 professions ; that every branch of human knowledge 
 should contribute to form and enrich his mind who was 
 to address every class of persons, upon subjects the 
 most momentous and of imperishable value. And as 
 the preparation could not be too liberal, so the acquire 
 ments and the additions to his rich stores of preparation 
 should never cease, but go on augmenting to the end 
 of life. 
 
 His father retained the old-fashioned idea, that it was 
 indispensable for a student of divinity to live with a cler 
 gyman already settled, and learn ministerial duties from 
 his example. That Joseph s studies were pursued in a 
 manner different from the usual course is undoubtedly 
 true ; but with the privilege of obtaining books from the 
 College library, which he could not have enjoyed by re 
 siding in a remote country village, the society of the 
 learned of all professions, and fhe excitement of mind 
 that is obtained in all literary pursuits, where the chain 
 of thought is kept bright by the perpetual collision of 
 different intellects, must have more than counterbalanced 
 the advantages of private instruction in ministerial duties. 
 There is also a class of duties for which little prepara 
 tion of the intellect can f be received from books or from 
 instruction. To comfort the afflicted and bereaved, to 
 soothe the guilty or agitated soul, to support with tender 
 sympathy the lonely mind as it approaches the gate of 
 death, to be what Jesus was to the sisters and Lazarus, 
 the heart itself is the best, and perhaps the only, in 
 structor. He who does not feel cannot teach upon 
 such occasions ; the silent pressure of the hand from 
 
HIS THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 185 
 
 a heart deeply moved is better than whole volumes of 
 formal consolation. 
 
 There are, fortunately, the means of showing, from a 
 journal of Joseph s studies, kept very exactly, the year 
 previous to his settlement in Brattle Street, that his read 
 ing was extensive, comprehensive, and most conscien 
 tious, and that, in compliance with his father s advice, 
 he faithfully studied Orthodox writers. He made an 
 accurate analysis of most of the books that he studied, 
 which is too long to be inserted here. The part of 
 the journal which is afterwards inserted is from De 
 cember, 1803, to December, 1804. It probably gives 
 a fair account of his manner and course of study, and 
 the theological student of the present day can judge 
 how far it would have been better to have yielded to his 
 father s earnest advice, to put himself under the guidance 
 of some settled or aged minister. No doubt, the helps 
 that students have since derived from the introduction 
 and translation of German theology, the study of the 
 German language, the various learned and critical re 
 views, which were then almost unknown, the establish 
 ment of professorships and schools, the impulse given 
 to theological studies by all these aids would have been 
 of incalculable advantage to him, would have abridged 
 his labor and cheered him on his solitary path. During 
 this whole year, also, he was harassed and distressed by 
 his father s disapproval of his method of study, and by 
 the withholding of his consent to his advancement in his 
 profession. This alone must have thrown disheartening 
 uncertainty over all his pursuits ; and if he could have 
 been discouraged, it would have turned him aside from 
 that which he always felt was the sure direction and 
 leading of Providence. 
 16* 
 
b 
 
 186 RECOMMENCES PREACHING. 
 
 How sad are the reflections that follow from readin 
 the record of his studies ! He had learned the mastery 
 of his tools, and had laid out a great plan upon a world 
 wide area, lengthening out, also, to the end of life, where 
 the ardor of pursuit would never flag. And had a long 
 and healthful Hfe been allotted him, his favorite passion 
 would have cheated it of its loneliness. " And what," 
 as he said of another, " might not have been expected 
 from him, had he enjoyed the lights that have been 
 thrown upon criticism and theology since his death ? " 
 
 Notwithstanding the matter seemed finally settled, in 
 the last letters that passed between father and son, the 
 friends of the latter, in Boston and Cambridge, still 
 urged him to preach. In the beginning of September 
 he visited Portsmouth, and we infer, as the subject was 
 not again mentioned, that he satisfied his father s scru 
 ples so far as to obtain his consent to his preaching. 
 There seems to have been a silent consent between 
 father and son, that differences of opinion should sink 
 away, and that they should stand together, although on 
 opposite sides of theological ground, firm to both of 
 them, joining hands across the abyss that separated 
 them ; the father trusting to time to fill the chasm, the 
 son to parental tenderness to overlook it. 
 
 Joseph makes this entry in his journal, in September, 
 1804: "Returned from Portsmouth ten days ago. 
 By the persuasion of Boston friends, and the consent of 
 my father, I recommence preaching. Last Sabbath of 
 September preached for Mr. Gushing of Waltham, 
 Matthew xi. 29: c Learn of me, for I am meek and 
 lowly of heart. What its issue will be I know not. If 
 I could satisfy myself and my father better in undertak- 
 
INVITATION FROM BRATTLE STREET CHURCH. 187 
 
 ing this work, I should go on with a lighter heart, not 
 withstanding the peculiar difficulties of my situation." 
 A number of the leading men of the Brattle Street 
 society went to Waltham upon this occasion to hear his 
 first sermon, and the result was another pressing invita 
 tion to preach for that society. 
 
 On October 21st, 1804, he preached for the first time 
 at Brattle Street. After the entry of this fact in his 
 journal, he adds, " May I dare to say, Deo juvante ! " 
 The people of Brattle Street Church were very prompt 
 in their measures. At their next meeting it was voted 
 unanimously, " That the committee for supplying the 
 pulpit be requested to invite Mr. Buckminster to preach 
 to us four Sabbaths, upon probation, with a view to 
 settle as our minister." Upon which he received the 
 following letter from the chairman : 
 
 " SIR, As chairman of the committee for supplying the 
 pulpit in the parish of Brattle Street in Boston, I have the 
 pleasure to transmit to you the inclosed vote of that society. 
 
 " From the unanimity that prevailed when the vote was 
 passed, it may be considered as a leading step towards form 
 ing a connection which I hope will promote their interest 
 and your happiness. The office of minister to this ancient 
 society will be an office of care and anxiety ; but, from the 
 character of the parish, I think you may reasonably con 
 clude that you will for ever receive from its members all the 
 candor and support necessary to your station as a minister. 
 
 " I remain, with ardent wishes for your health and useful 
 ness, your sincere friend and humble servant, 
 
 "JAMES SULLIVAN." 
 
 In his answer, Mr. Buckminster says : " In pursu 
 ance of this vote, I consider myself engaged to supply 
 
188 EFFECT OF HIS PREACHING. 
 
 the desk in Brattle Street for four Sabbaths ; but I wish 
 that this engagement may not be considered as an ex 
 pression or intimation of a final determination in conse 
 quence of any future proceedings of the society." 
 
 It may, perhaps, excite surprise in those unacquainted 
 with our society, to find the Brattle Street Church so 
 ready to invite as their pastor a young rnan of only 
 twenty years, and he so prompt to accept such large 
 and heavy responsibilities. It had been the habit of 
 the place, and of Brattle Street especially, to call very 
 young men, and, if they were found inadequate, to give 
 them an assistant preacher, and that the society pro 
 posed to do in this instance. It must be recollected, 
 also, that Joseph, though young in age, had been four 
 years preparing for his profession, and that he had a 
 strong conviction that only a short time would be al 
 lowed him in which to complete his work. 
 
 His preaching, together with that of Rev. W. E. 
 Channing, who had just been settled in Federal Street, 
 was said by Dr. Kirkland to have formed an era in the 
 history of the pulpit. The sermons of the New Eng 
 land divines had hitherto been rather commentaries upon 
 Christian doctrines ; or, if upon ethical subjects, they 
 were supported by a long array of texts of Scripture ; 
 argumentative they were, and requiring the closest atten 
 tion and exercise of the intellect to be appreciated and 
 understood. They were not glowing essays addressed 
 to the intellect, the heart, and the affections, like the 
 sermons of Channing, who had just begun his brilliant 
 career, and whose thoughtful and fervid eloquence drew 
 to him crowds of devoted and admiring listeners. A 
 contemporary thus speaks of Mr. Buckminster : cc I 
 cannot attempt to describe the delight and wonder with 
 
EFFECT OF HIS PREACHING. 189 
 
 which his first sermons were listened to by all classes 
 of hearers. The most refined and the least cultivat 
 ed equally hung upon his lips. The attention of the 
 thoughtless was fixed. The gayety of youth was com 
 posed to seriousness ; the mature, the aged, the most 
 vigorous and enlarged minds, were at once charmed, 
 instructed, and improved."* 
 
 Many gifts for a pulpit orator were united in him, but 
 there was one quality that made his preaching so emi 
 nently effective. It was intellectual sincerity. The 
 truths he enforced were not only clear to his heart and 
 beautiful to his imagination ; they were the strongest 
 faith of his intellect. He not only loved the truths he 
 preached for their softening and civilizing influence ; he 
 believed likewise that they were the power of God unto 
 salvation. This entire conviction of the intellect is aside 
 from moral purity or pious affections ; it is to the soul 
 what the breath of life is to the body. 
 
 His father, hearing the flattering reports of his preach 
 ing, writes to him in a strain calculated to chasten the 
 pride of applause, and apparently without any elation 
 himself. 
 
 " Dec. 3d, 1804. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, Common fame speaks of your 
 
 preaching with general acceptance. This was to be antici 
 pated from the expectation that was raised about you, but 
 nothing is more fickle than the applause of the multitude, 
 excited by showy talents. Be not elated. Your own letter 
 intimates that your friends flatter you that the society to 
 which you arc preaching will be united in you. If they 
 are understandingly united, your wishes may perhaps be 
 
 * Mr. Thacher s Memoir. 
 
190 VOTE OF THE PARISH. 
 
 gratified. Do not, my son, trust to the favor of man ; look 
 to God, from whom cometh every good and perfect gift; 
 and may he bless you, soul and body, for time and for 
 eternity ! " 
 
 On November 10, 1804, the society in Brattle Street 
 voted, with only one dissentient voice, to invite him to 
 become its pastor. The proceedings of the society 
 were as follows : Judge Sullivan, Moderator. Ma 
 jor Melville made a motion that Mr. Buckminster should 
 be invited to preach four Sabbaths, with a view to set 
 tlement. Seconded by H. G. Otis. A unanimous vote. 
 Mr. Cooper observed that he was not sufficiently in 
 formed of Mr. B. s orthodoxy, and threw out hints of 
 Arianisrn and Socinianism. Judge Sullivan observed 
 that he assented to the church covenant. Mr. Hancock 
 observed that he had no fears. Mr. Cooper desired 
 a day of prayer. It was overruled. The committee of 
 the parish were desired to make the necessary prepara 
 tions to expedite a settlement in case the call was ac 
 cepted. 
 
 Thus we see, that, in this ancient and orthodox 
 church, there was no concealment. All was openly 
 conducted. The candidate s answer was given upon 
 the~second succeeding Sabbath. He does not attempt 
 to conceal the gratification he felt in finding his services 
 so highly appreciated by them ; but, not having com 
 pleted his twenty-first year, his youth induces him to 
 propose that a colleague should be settled with him. 
 
 " GENTLEMEN, No rule of propriety or delicacy requires 
 me to forbear all expression of pleasure at the testimonies 
 of approbation and good-will which have marked the pro- 
 
HIS ANSWER. 191 
 
 ceedings of your society ; neither am I sensible of any ad 
 vantage which wQuld result from the longer delay of an 
 answer to an invitation adopted with such unanimity, and 
 recommended by such encouragement. But while I give 
 you this early intimation that I have concluded to accept 
 your proposals, I should be unfaithful to you and to my 
 self, if I did not express my apprehensions that you will be 
 called to overlook many deficiencies, and to excuse many 
 mistakes, in one whose youth and consequent inexperience, 
 united with precarious health, will ask for a continuance 
 of all the indulgence which his past intercourse with you 
 encourages him to expect. 
 
 " If, in the course of events, an opportunity should occur 
 of associating with me another pastor, much of our mutual 
 anxiety might be relieved, and the interests of a numerous 
 society judiciously consulted. But if the cause of Christ 
 should not be found to suffer from the insufficiency of my 
 single efforts, I trust I shall be disposed to thank that God 
 in whose strength alone the weak are strong, in whose wis 
 dom the inexperienced are wise, and with whose blessing 
 the most feeble labors will not prove unsuccessful. If God 
 should spare my life, I hope some of its most cheerful and 
 permanent consolations will be found in the uninterrupted 
 harmony, the increasing affection, and the spiritual improve 
 ment of this large society. To instruct the ignorant, to re 
 claim the wandering, to console the afflicted, to reconcile 
 the alienated, to declare the whole counsel of God, and, 
 at the same time, to give no offence in any thing, that the 
 ministry be not blamed, are duties which no pastor can 
 even partially perform, unless encouraged by your utmost 
 charity and aided by your public and private prayers. 
 
 " For these, then, I ask, and may that God who has hither 
 to blessed the religious interests of your society in granting 
 you a succession of luminaries whose light has not yet de 
 parted, though their orbs have set, continue to build you up 
 
192 LETTER FROM HIS FATHER. 
 
 in faith, charity, purity, and peace, and give you at last an 
 inheritance among them that are sanctified. 
 
 " J. S. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 The noble, considerate, and generous sentiments by 
 which the Brattle Street society were ever governed in 
 their relations with him ; the indulgence with which they 
 ever regarded his youth, and the consequent deficiencies 
 of his experience ; the cordiality with which they met 
 his every wish ; the tenderness and sympathy with which 
 they looked upon the embarrassments occasioned by his 
 illness, were met by him with feelings of the deepest 
 gratitude. The time that he was their pastor was ren 
 dered the happiest portion of his life ; and had it pleased 
 God to lengthen his days, the tenderest relations, no 
 doubt, would have been knit between them. 
 
 His father was now consulted, whether he would take 
 part in the ordination. The son s letters are lost, but 
 his father wrote as follows : 
 
 " Dec. 14, 1804. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, I received your letter last evening, 
 having been expecting one for several days. The contents 
 were such as I anticipated, after having heard of the par 
 tiality with which your preaching was received. If that 
 church and society have chosen you for their minister, and 
 you choose to settle with them, I know of nothing to hinder 
 it. Every society has a right to choose its minister, and the 
 minister is bound to follow what he believes to be the lead 
 ing of Providence. I suppose the votes you mention were 
 given by the society, not by the church in distinction from 
 the society ; if so, there is some informality in the process. 
 The church should lead in calling a minister, and the par 
 ish concur ; for parishes are not known in the Gospel, nor 
 in ecclesiastical councils. I know not whether this distinc 
 tion is observed in Boston and its vicinity. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 193 
 
 " You will doubtless, my son, accept the call, and they 
 will wish you inducted as soon as possible. Even if I had no 
 scruples upon my mind respecting the sentiments you en 
 tertain, I should be willing to be excused from any part in 
 the tender and affecting scene, and I should be glad to spare 
 you from that anxiety which sons feel respecting the per 
 formances -of their fathers. And under present circumstan 
 ces this anxiety will be increased on your part, lest your 
 orthodox, or rather, bigoted, father should mortify you with 
 his theology, and perhaps offend the society over which 
 you are to be settled. Therefore I should much prefer 
 to be left out of the affair 
 
 44 It is a great and arduous work, my son, upon which 
 you are entering ; but he that desires the office of a Bishop 
 desires a good work ; and if he enter upon it with proper 
 furniture, with right views and motives, sensible where his 
 strength lies, he will be supported under all his burdens, 
 and receive out of the fulness that there is in Christ 
 (in whom dwells the fulness of the Godhead bodily) ac 
 cording to his necessities. God forbid that I should cease 
 to pray for you, and I hope, my son, that you will maintain 
 constant and fervent prayer in your closet. Study upon 
 your knees, my son, and search the Scriptures with humility 
 and prayer. I hope God will guide you into all truth, and 
 that the Spirit will bring to your remembrance the things 
 wherein you have been instructed in your youth. 
 
 4t As you will now be a minister in Boston, where tempta 
 tions and dangers are many, permit a father to exhort you 
 to have regard to your health. Resolve fixedly not to go 
 to large dinners or entertainments in any frequency ; and 
 do not join parties of mere amusement. Your predecessors 
 were perhaps injured by such indulgence, and their lives 
 shortened; take a good portion of regular exercise, not 
 barely in visiting, but in riding, walking, or in sawing wood. 
 1 hope you will rise early, and not spend your nights in 
 17 
 
194 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 study. Sad experience will teach you that this practice is 
 hurtful to the delicate structure of the nerves. I can say 
 no more, but commend you to God. Although in many 
 things I have doubtless failed in parental duty, my con 
 science testifies that I have always had at heart your best 
 good, and it will ever be a subject that will rise up and lie 
 down with me. 
 
 u P. S. As I have expressed in the letter, it will be more 
 agreeable to me to take no part in the act of your settle 
 ment ; but if it should be your wish that I should preach, 
 I suppose that could be done without my taking any part 
 in the council of ordination." 
 
 "Dec. 31st, 1804. 
 
 u MY DEAR SON, Since it seems to be your wish 
 
 that I should attempt to preach at your ordination, I have 
 been throwing together some thoughts upon a subject not 
 very foreign from those you suggest to me, but they are at 
 present in the state of the world at the very beginning of the 
 creation. I shall endeavour to reduce them to some form, 
 in order that, if your mothers health will permit, I may be 
 able to be with you, and support you, on the day that must 
 be anticipated by you with great seriousness and anxiety. 
 I would by no means dictate to you respecting a preach 
 er in case I should fail, but I am sorry that Dr. Morse 
 should be unpopular with any of your society, or that you 
 should feel as if any of the society did not esteem and 
 respect him. 
 
 " If I were as much of a Hopkinsian on some points 
 as you, my son, are upon others, I should be glad they 
 had thought of Mr. Appleton* for Cambridge [for Hollis 
 Professor of Divinity]. I think there is no man so likely 
 to render calm and to keep quiet the two opposite parties, 
 and to preserve Cambridge from becoming the arena of 
 
 * Afterwards President of Brunswick College. 
 
ORDINATION OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER. 195 
 
 theological discord ; but the loss to me, to the Academy, 
 and to our Association would be irreparable. 
 
 " You must be prepared with another preacher, lest your 
 mother s health should forbid my being with you. She 
 has frequent ill turns that chill the ardor of the hopes I 
 sometimes form of her recovery. I desire to be humble 
 under all God s rebukes, and receive submissively all his 
 dealings. I hope the clouds he spreads over my prospects 
 here will serve to brighten the scene beyond the grave. 
 Happy he who can say, Yea, doubtless I esteem all things 
 but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ 
 my Lord. That you and I, my dear son, may have this 
 knowledge, and through it, comparatively, despise all earth 
 ly things, may God give us grace sincerely to pray ! 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " J. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 The day for the ordination had been appointed for 
 the 30th of January, just a year after the society had 
 first asked him to preach upon probation, when he had 
 been held back by his own youth and his father s anx 
 iety. x\ most severe snow-storm occurred on the 28th, 
 but, notwithstanding the depth*of the snow, his father 
 arrived the evening before the appointed day. 
 
 Joseph makes this record of the ordination in his 
 journal : u The council met at ten o clock. Papers 
 were produced. Dr. Kirkland moved for a confession 
 of faith. It was read. No objection was made to it. 
 My father preached. The ordaining prayer was by 
 Dr. Lathrop. Charge by Dr. Gushing. Concluding 
 prayer by Dr. Morse. Fellowship of the churches 
 by Mr. Emerson. Psalm and benediction by myself. 
 Every thing proceeded, by the blessing of God, with 
 perfect decorum, and the solemnities were more inter 
 esting than usual." 
 
196 EXTRACT FROM DR. BUCKMINSTER s 
 
 The sermon, of which the text, chosen by Dr. Buck- 
 minster, was, u Let no man despise thee," was not 
 certainly one of his happiest efforts. It was too desul 
 tory, and, as he said, " the heart of a parent, that 
 anxious, busy thing, could scarcely be diverted from 
 the image of his son while addressing superiors in age 
 and standing." 
 
 The address to his son at the conclusion is now deep 
 ly significant to those who know the peculiar tenderness 
 of the relation between them, and how it had been 
 strained and wounded by the conscientious scruples 
 that led. them to different conclusions in their doctrinal 
 sentiments. 
 
 " My son, the day has arrived in which you are to be 
 completely invested with that office, divine in its origin, 
 important in its design, and beneficent in its influence, of 
 which you have been emulous from your earliest years, and 
 which you have always kept in view in your literary pur 
 suits. While I have endeavoured to restrain your ardor and 
 check the rapidity of your course, motives of concern for 
 the honor of God, and for your reputation and comfort, in 
 fluenced my conduct. But a power paramount to all human 
 influence has cast the die, and I bow submissively. God s 
 will be done ! 
 
 " In the hours of parental instruction, when my speech 
 and affection distilled upon you as the dew, you have often 
 heard me refer to the cheering satisfaction with which I 
 presented you at the baptismal fount, in the name of the 
 sacred Trinity, and enrolled you among the members of 
 Christ s visible family ; would to God I might now lead you 
 with the same cheering hope to the altar of God, and lend 
 you to the Lord as long as you shall live ! But the da} r s 
 are past in which you can depend upon the offering of a 
 
ORDINATION SERMON. 197 
 
 parent. To your own Master you stand or fall. God grant 
 the response may be, He shall be holden up, for God is 
 able to make him stand ! " 
 
 And thus he pleaded for his son with the society : 
 
 " The heart of a father, alive to the interests of a son 
 and not indifferent to the honor of the Gospel, recoiled 
 from the idea of his beginning his ministerial efforts upon 
 so public a theatre, and before so enlightened an audience ; 
 and the hope that longer delay and greater experience 
 would render him more equal to the duties of the ministry, 
 and more worthy of the esteem and respect of his fellow- 
 men, induced me to yield with reluctance to your early re 
 quest to hear him as a candidate. But since your candor 
 and charity have silenced my scruples, and your affection 
 and judgment have become surety for the youth, and he 
 himself has said he will go with you, I yield him to your 
 request. Bear him up by the arms of faith and prayer. 
 Remember him always in your devotional exercises. May 
 God have you and your pastor within his holy keeping ! 
 May he shed down upon you unitedly his celestial dews, 
 that you may be like a watered garden, and like a spring 
 whose waters fail not!" 
 
 17 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. ILLNESS. MUSIC. LETTERS. 
 
 18 o5. THE father, having left his Benjamin in Bos- 
 Aged 21. ton, returned, and the son appeared to begin his 
 ministry under the happiest auspices ; but he enters in 
 his journal, immediately after the ordination, " Alas ! 
 who knows what is before him ? " The very next day 
 he was seized with a severe fever, brought on, no doubt, 
 by anxiety and fatigue, and he was not able to commence 
 his ministry till the beginning of March. Although at 
 first a severe disappointment to him, it was a season rich 
 in valuable instruction. Besides the lessons of patience 
 and resignation, it taught him the value of sympathy, and 
 of some of the virtues that dwell almost exclusively in the 
 sick-room, -*- the endurance and unwearied tenderness 
 of woman, and the value of those nameless services, that 
 the poorest individual may render, but which the mines of 
 Peru can never repay ; and it added new strength and 
 delicacy to the bonds of friendship he was just beginning 
 to form with many of his parish. The first time he 
 preached, instead of the usual addresses upon the mutual 
 duties of pastor and people, he took the text from the 
 hundred and nineteenth Psalm : " It is good for me 
 that I have been afflicted " ; and, from some passages 
 of the sermon, we learn how deeply he felt the uncer- 
 
DISAPPOINTMENT AND TRIAL. 199 
 
 tainty of his blessings, and that sinking of the heart which 
 debility and lassitude impose. 
 
 " Sickness teaches us, not only the uncertain tenure, but 
 the utter vanity and unsatisfactoriness, of the dearest objects 
 of human pursuit. Introduce into the chamber of a sick and 
 dying man the whole pantheon of idols which he has vainly 
 worshipped, fame, wealth, pleasure, beauty, power, 
 what miserable comforters are they all ! Bind a wreath of 
 laurel round his brow, and see if it will assuage his aching 
 temples. Spread before him the deeds and instruments 
 which prove him the lord of innumerable possessions, and 
 see if you can beguile him of a moment s anguish ; see if he 
 will not give you up those barren parchments for one drop 
 of cool water, one draught of pure air. Go tell him, when 
 a fever rages through his veins, that his table smokes with 
 luxuries, that the wine moveth itself aright and giveth its 
 color in the cup, and see if this will calm his throbbing 
 pulse. Tell him, as he lies prostrate, helpless and sinking 
 with debility, that the song and dance are ready to begin, 
 and that all without him is life, alacrity, and joy. Nay, 
 more, place in his motionless hand the sceptre of a mighty 
 empire, and see if he will be eager to grasp it. This, my 
 friends, this is the school in which our desires must be dis 
 ciplined, and our judgments of ourselves and the objects of 
 our pursuit corrected." 
 
 After enumerating some of the lessons taught by sick 
 ness, he says : 
 
 " We beseech you, then, do not mistake us. When we 
 discourse to you of the beneficial fruits of affliction, we talk 
 of no secret and magical power which sickness possesses to 
 make you necessarily and immediately good and wise ; but 
 we speak of fruits which must form, and swell, and ripen, 
 fruits which time must mature and watchfulness preserve. 
 
200 
 
 LETTER UPON HIS ILLNESS. 
 
 VVe represent sickness as a discipline which you must live to 
 improve, a medicine whose operation cannot be ascertained 
 if the patient dies in the experiment. O, defer not, then, I 
 beseech you, defer not to the frantic hours of pain, to the 
 feverish hours of disease, to the languishing hours of con 
 finement, defer not till then an attention to the things 
 which concern your everlasting peace. You think they will 
 be hours of leisure. Believe me, it will be the leisure of dis 
 traction or insensibility ; it may be the leisure of death." 
 
 As none of his family could be with him during his 
 illness, he became acquainted with many of his parish in 
 the most interesting relation, that of comforters and 
 cheerers of the slow hours of convalescence, and he 
 formed ties of gratitude that were never broken. 
 
 His father wrote to him every three or four days during 
 his illness. One letter only is inserted. 
 
 "Feb. 9th, 1805. 
 
 " MY BELOVED SON, We enter deeply into your suffer 
 ing situation, rendered so peculiarly trying to you by the 
 time at which it has fallen on you, just as you had received 
 the charge of a church, and expected to appear before them 
 as their minister ; but God is the rock, his work is perfect. 
 He knows how to time, influence, and overrule all his dis 
 pensations towards us. You and I, perhaps, both needed this 
 check to our vanity, and this sensible conviction of our frail 
 ty and dependence, not upon ourselves, but upon him. It 
 becomes us to receive evil as well as good from the hand of 
 God, and we shall find it good for us to hope and quietly 
 wait for his salvation. All things shall work together for 
 our good if we love him, and are called according to his 
 purposes. 
 
 " I feel confidence that you are in the midst of friends, 
 who will do every thing in their power to relieve and help 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 201 
 
 you. Endeavour to be submissive, my dear son, and place 
 your ultimate hope and dependence upon Him who is able 
 to bring sweetness out of affliction. I trust you will find it 
 good that you have been afflicted. It may, perhaps, fur 
 nish you with thoughts and reflections that will enable you 
 the more tenderly to sympathize with your afflicted people 
 when you shall be called to see them and to administer to 
 thern the consolations wherewith you have yourself been 
 comforted of God. We hope, also, it may be the means 
 of making a change in your constitution that shall relieve 
 you of the malady with which you have been exercised. 
 Endeavour, my son, to preserve your mind as free as possi 
 ble from anxiety. Your pulpit shall be supplied. Commit 
 your way to the Lord and he shall establish it ; trust also in 
 him, and he will bring it to pass. Although your pains 
 are severe and weakening, we trust they are not dangerous. 
 If your disorder should put on any fresh appearance, I shall 
 endeavour to go up and see you, although my calls at home 
 are a forbidding circumstance to such a journey. I hope 
 Mr. Thacher will continue to write as often as he thinks 
 proper, and that we shall soon hear pleasant tidings from 
 you ; but we must refer all to the wisdom and goodness of 
 God. Good night, my son. I hope you will sleep in ease 
 and quietness." 
 
 That even long after his recovery he felt deeply the 
 weight of responsibility he had taken upon himself ap 
 pears from a sermon written in the course of the year. 
 
 " My grace, says Jesus to the drooping apostle, my 
 grace is sufficient for thee. Sufficient for what ? For 
 health, life, toil ? Yes, my friends, and for the duties of a 
 profession, of which no one knew better than this feeble 
 apostle the labors and the responsibility. In a frame weak 
 as the reed which every blast bends to the dust, he bore a 
 
202 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. 
 
 spirit which disdained the iron gripe of adversity ; a spirit 
 which persecution only wrought up to exertions almost mi 
 raculous ; a spirit which death itself could only set free to 
 expatiate in the rewards to which it had continually aspired. 
 That eloquent apostle understood well the various duties 
 which are implied in the cure of souls, of souls, my 
 friends, the most precious gems in the circle of God s gifts 
 to his creation. And they are to be preserved, too, for God 
 himself; they are to be prepared, not for earth only, but 
 for heaven, to be cleared from all the dross that now in- 
 crusts them, and purified for a region of spirits, where all 
 is pure, intellectual, and godlike. He, then, who would fit 
 men for heaven must consult, in the exercise of his pastoral 
 duties, all the grades of human capacity, and, what is more, 
 all the varieties of human disposition. He must accomplish 
 in himself that rare union of prudence and zeal, of caution 
 and earnestness, which it is the hardest problem in human 
 character to combine. He has to secure the reception of 
 the Gospel with which he is put in trust, principally by 
 throwing light upon the darkened understandings, or by seiz 
 ing upon the avenues to the hardened heart. A course of 
 instruction that might gain the superficial would revolt the 
 wise ; and the rich, the enlightened, or the consequential 
 hearer may be charmed, while the poor and the ignorant 
 may be perishing in silence, disappointment, or want. Paul, 
 when he harangued the polite Athenians, or addressed the 
 judges of the Areopagus, selected topics and employed a 
 style which would not have gained a bigoted Jew within the 
 precincts of the temple. The discourse which almost per 
 suaded the noble Agrippa to be a Christian is the most clas 
 sical and eloquent in the Acts. It is clothed in language 
 which would not have betrayed the native of Tarsus in the 
 most polished circle of Greece. The Epistle to the He 
 brews, on the contrary, if it be really the work of the Apos 
 tle, is filled with arguments of which the force could be felt 
 
EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. 203 
 
 only by a superstitious adherent to the old Mosaic ceremo 
 nies, but which would have been to the Athenians ridiculous 
 and unintelligible. So, also, at the present day, a wise and 
 faithful pastor cannot hope to reclaim an acute and pol 
 ished skeptic by the usual appeals to authority, or by bring 
 ing up in array the commonplaces of theology. A delicate 
 and sensitive spirit, open, candid, and seeking earnestly for 
 the truth, is not to be treated like a bigoted understanding, 
 obscured with prejudice acquired too early to be remem 
 bered, and incrusted too deep to be washed away with per 
 suasion. There are some men, of strong, unpolished, native 
 intellect, who are affected by reasonings, illustrations, and 
 persuasions far different from those adapted to minds which 
 have been enriched by the learning or polished by the taste 
 of the times. In the differences, too, of opinion which will 
 be found among believers, the aged and opinionated must 
 see that his opinions are respected, even when they are 
 doubted ; and he must not always suppose them to be be 
 lieved when they have not been controverted. The young 
 and the presumptuous must be checked with caution, lest 
 he should become indifferent or hostile ; but he must be 
 seasonably converted, lest he should perish in the vanity of 
 fashionable unbelief, or the pride of intellectual speculations. 
 In short, Christianity is to be recommended to all the vari 
 ous measures of human capacity, now by reasonings, then 
 by persuasion ; here by removing prejudices, and there by 
 strengthening them ; sometimes by appeals to the heart, 
 sometimes to the intellect, sometimes to the hopes, and 
 sometimes to the fears ; in one word, by means as various 
 as the minds which the light of celestial truth is intended 
 
 by its Author to illumine 
 
 " Consider, too, that all these complicated duties of the 
 Christian minister are enjoined by especial sanctions. He 
 is immediately and peculiarly responsible to his God. In 
 his eye, the day of his examination is perpetually present. 
 
204 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. 
 
 Hardly dare I speak to you on this subject, my friends. 
 Hardly dare I to think of the inexpressible anguish with 
 which I should learn, in that solemn day of my account, that 
 this man was made an unbeliever by some unwise state 
 ment of mine ; this youth was fixed in an error, which has 
 colored his whole life, by my injudicious treatment of his 
 doubts ; this gay spirit was lost by my omitting an oppor 
 tunity of making a serious impression upon his heart, while 
 it was intenerated by sorrow ; that fine understanding was 
 shattered by an affliction, which I might have assisted him 
 to bear had I communicated earlier the consolations of the 
 Gospel to his heart, and here is a dear friend, whose sin I 
 neglected to reprove ; how awfully is his account length 
 ened because I stood beside him a silent witness of a single 
 fault ! But the subject is too painful, I will not pursue it. 
 
 " O God, I prostrate myself in the dust before thee, and 
 acknowledge my insufficiency ! What in me is dark do 
 thou illumine ; what is low raise and support ; what is 
 wavering establish ; what is weak strengthen ; what is wrong 
 forgive ! Let but thy blessing follow me, and then what is 
 sown in weakness shall be raised in power, to thy glory and 
 to everlasting life." 
 
 Mr. Buckminster wanted a few months of twenty-one 
 years, when he began his ministry in one of the largest 
 societies in Boston. By the conditions of the will by 
 which the parsonage-house was given to the Brattle 
 Street parish, in perpetuity, the minister for the time be 
 ing is obliged to make it the place of his constant resi 
 dence. Convenient, and in many respects eligible, it is, 
 by its public and exposed situation, near the courts and 
 lawyers offices, and not far from the commercial part of 
 the city, a noisy abode for one who wishes, in his hours 
 of retirement, to be a diligent and absorbed student. 
 
MR. BUCKMINSTER S STUDY. 205 
 
 Its accessibility to the then busiest part of the town ex 
 posed him to perpetual interruptions in the day-time, and 
 led to the habit of prolonging his hours of study far into 
 the night. The house was also too large for one who 
 had no family, and no prospect of forming family con 
 nections. He went into the house, therefore, as a 
 boarder with the persons already there, reserving a large 
 and pleasant room for his study. This was soon made 
 extremely attractive by the number of books it was his 
 delight to collect, and by the interesting pamphlets and 
 literature of the day, scattered all over his round study- 
 table. It was the centre of attraction for all his young 
 friends, and for the elders among the clergy, and was 
 soon called the " ministers exchange." 
 
 Soon after, for his own private recreation, he added 
 a chamber organ to this room, where, in the pauses of 
 his hours of study, he delighted to indulge his passion 
 for music. It was at first a solitary recreation, but soon 
 he induced his choir to meet there to practise ; and in 
 subsequent years he had concerts in his house. 
 
 If any among the living remember this study, they 
 will recollect its cheerful aspect in the sunshine of win 
 ter, and the air of retirement that was given to it by 
 the closed blinds in summer, and, above all, the cor 
 dial, the cheering, the glowing expression of affectionate 
 kindness with which he welcomed his friends. Here 
 were passed his happiest days, in pursuits most congen 
 ial, and perhaps too attractive, for his uncertain health 
 and frail organization. Fortunately, the office of a cler 
 gyman in Boston does not allow of exclusive devotion 
 to study. To borrow the words of another, "It is the 
 general habit of the place for the individuals of each 
 society to make their minister a part almost of their 
 18 
 
206 INTIMATE CONNECTION 
 
 families, a sharer of their joys and sorrows, one who 
 has always access to them, and is always welcomed with 
 
 distinguished confidence and affection This 
 
 intimate connection with his people, although, to a man 
 of any sensibility, a source of the most exquisite grati 
 fications of the human heart, makes a great addition 
 to his toils. It makes a deep inroad upon the time he 
 would give to study, and almost compels him to redeem 
 it from the hours which ought to be given to exercise 
 or repose. By the variety and painful interest, also, 
 of the scenes and occupations to which it calls him, the 
 mind is often agitated and worn down ; while the re 
 flection, which it is impossible always to exclude, of the 
 insufficient ability with which his duties are performed, 
 and the inadequate returns he can make for the friend 
 ship and confidence he receives, must often come over 
 and oppress his spirits." * 
 
 The above remarks apply more directly to the rela 
 tion which existed between ministers and people in the 
 good city of Boston, at the close of the last century. 
 Ministers were then expected to spend a very large por 
 tion of their time in visiting the different families of their 
 parishes. The intimacy was so close that every joy 
 and sorrow, every item of good fortune, and every trial, 
 however light, was imparted to the sympathizing friend. 
 The infant, from the hour of its baptism, was one of the 
 lambs of his flock. If a boy, his progress was watched 
 through the successive schools, and after he entered the 
 college or the counting-room. If a daughter, the minister 
 fixed his paternal and indulgent eye upon her, till he 
 was called to consecrate her union, probably with an- 
 
 * Memoir bv Mr. Timelier. 
 
OF MINISTERS WITH THEIR PARISHES. 207 
 
 other of his flock ; and at the marriage-supper, the hon 
 ored place at the left hand of the bride was reserved 
 for him. 
 
 The minister and his flock passed through life, render 
 ing to each other countless mutual services ; and, when 
 the pastor stood at the grave of a parishioner, paying 
 the last tribute of earth to earth, he felt as though he 
 had lost a member of his household. The sermons of 
 such a minister could be neither searching nor pungent. 
 He looked so nearly into his parish, that their faults 
 must have been lost to the mental eye, by the thousand 
 excuses he was impelled to make for them. Then he 
 could scarcely speak of faults and follies which he had 
 observed, without making an application so distinct as 
 to rend the veil of charity which should cover a multi 
 tude of sins. 
 
 The young ministers who were settled at the begin 
 ning of this century found it necessary to modify in some 
 degree the custom of the place, to spend less time 
 at the social fireside and more at the study-table. If 
 they would render their sermons such as would satisfy 
 themselves, and such as their societies demanded, they 
 must give up the enjoyment of the almost daily hospi 
 tality of some kind parishioner ; and the fine leg of mut 
 ton or the famous turkey must be eaten without the bless 
 ing being asked over it by the favorite minister. The 
 time which was gained by briefer and less frequent visits 
 was devoted to the mental preparation, by which their 
 sermons gained in richness of thought, in power and 
 eloquence. Certainly there is no place on the face of 
 the globe, where discourses from the pulpit are of a 
 higher standard of excellence than in Boston. 
 
 That Mr. Buckminster began, immediately after his 
 
208 DELIGHT IN MUSIC. 
 
 ordination, to acquaint himself intimately with his parish, 
 appears from a manuscript book, alphabetically arranged, 
 of every family, and of many persons, belonging to the 
 Brattle Street society. The number of persons forming 
 the different families, the occupation of the parents, the 
 names of the children, are recorded ; then are added, in 
 Latin or French, remarks, notices, and characteristics, 
 important only for him to know as their friend and spir 
 itual adviser. 
 
 The object that next claimed his warmest interest 
 and attention was the singing of the choir of Brattle 
 Street Church. I have mentioned his exquisite ear, and 
 the passionate love of music that appeared in his earliest 
 years. Before he went to Exeter Academy, he had 
 learned to blow the flute, but was discouraged by his 
 father, who feared the effect upon his health. He after 
 wards took some lessons on the violin and violoncello, 
 but relinquished them, as creating a too passionate love, 
 that encroached upon his other studies ; but, as soon as 
 he could unite his favorite pursuit with the improvement 
 of the church music, he began to learn to practise upon 
 the organ. His own voice was eminently musical, and 
 his enthusiasm was scarcely permitted any bounds when 
 he could induce a fine voice of either male or female 
 performer to join the choir. One evening in the week 
 was devoted to practising with the church singers in his 
 own study, and these were truly his hours of relaxation 
 and delight. He was sometimes so fascinated and lost 
 in the sounds he could himself draw from the organ, 
 that his sister, leaving him after one of these evenings, 
 and thinking he would immediately retire, awoke, far 
 in the night, still hearing the organ from his study, and, 
 
MEETINGS FOR RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. 209 
 
 upon going down, found him still sitting at the instrument, 
 wholly unconscious of the flight of time. 
 
 A few years after, he assisted in making a collection 
 of tunes for sacred music. He devoted much time and 
 labor in comparing and arranging such as were suited, 
 either from their intrinsic value or from their sacred 
 or tender associations, to the worship of the church ; 
 and I believe the Brattle Street Collection, though 
 small, is esteemed a valuable selection of tunes, even 
 by musicians. 
 
 One other evening in the week was devoted at this 
 time to young men of his own age, and even younger, 
 whom he could induce to meet him at his study and con 
 verse upon moral and religious subjects. There was 
 no formality in this meeting. It was not called a prayer- 
 meeting, nor a meeting for inquiry ; no publicity was 
 given to it, and those who attended it were not subjected 
 to observation from others. Induced by his invitation, 
 or by the attractiveness which his own youth gave to 
 religion, many went to open to him their anxieties, 
 to satisfy an inquiring spirit, to seek direction for a 
 doubting mind, to find a balm for an awakened con 
 science, or to inquire the path to religious peace. Pri 
 vacy was secured by removing the light from the entry, 
 which usually indicated that he was from home, and the 
 evening was closed with prayer. One of the objects 
 of this meeting was to suggest and to lend books to 
 those young persons who evinced a taste for reading and 
 self-improvement. May we not suppose that many young 
 men, who afterwards led eminently Christian lives, re 
 ceived some of their best religious impressions from these 
 evening meetings ? 
 
 18* 
 
210 HANNAH ADAMS S 
 
 About this time he corrected for the press Miss Han 
 nah Adams s History of New England, and made such 
 alterations for a second edition as were advisable to ren 
 der the book as plain and familiar as was consistent with 
 elegance of style. By this and other acts of friendship, 
 he secured the grateful attachment of that simple, un 
 assuming nature, the childlike innocency of whose mind 
 and manners formed a curious contrast with the ab 
 struse character of her investigations and pursuits. 
 
 At a little later period of his life, while Miss Adams 
 was compiling her history of the Jews, the most fre 
 quent visitors to his study perceived, as they entered, 
 seated at the same table with him, diligently compiling 
 her notes, and abstracted completely from present things, 
 the unassuming and plainly attired form of this simple 
 old lady. She was so familiar and so quiet, that, though 
 they pursued their studies many days and weeks to 
 gether, they never disturbed or interrupted each other. 
 The author of the Memoir of Miss Mams * has given 
 so interesting an account of their intercourse, that the 
 writer avails herself of it here. 
 
 " It was on a visit to Boston that Miss Adams first saw 
 Mr. Buckminster. He was then about sixteen years old. 
 Those who knew him well will not think her description 
 an exaggerated one. 4 He had then, she said, the bloom of 
 health on his cheek, and the fire of genius in his eye ; I did 
 not know from which world he came, whether from heaven 
 or earth. Though so young, he entered fully into her char 
 acter, and, before they parted, gave her a short but compre 
 hensive sketch of the state of literature in France and Ger 
 many. After he became the pastor of Brattle Street Church, 
 
 * Mrs. George G. Lee. 
 
DESCRIPTION OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. 211 
 
 he, with Mr. Stephen Higginson and Mr. Shaw, the active 
 founder of the Athenseum, proposed to Miss Adams to re 
 move to Boston ; at the same time procuring for her, through 
 the liberal subscription of a few gentlemen and ladies, an 
 annuity for life. She had then commenced her History of 
 the Jews, and nothing could have been more favorable to 
 its progress or her own ease of mind, than this benevolent 
 arrangement. She could never speak of her benefactors 
 without deep emotion. 
 
 " From Mr. Buckminster she received the most judicious 
 and extensive assistance. She was in the habit of visiting 
 him in his study, and had his invitation to come when she 
 pleased, and sit and read as long as she pleased, or to take 
 any books home and use them like her own. Perhaps peo 
 ple are never perfectly easy with each other till they feel 
 at liberty to be silent in each other s society. It was stipu 
 lated between these students that neither party should be 
 obliged to talk. But her own language will best describe 
 her feelings. Mr. Buckminster would sometimes read for 
 hours without speaking. But, occasionally, flashes of gen 
 ius would break forth in some short observation or sudden re 
 mark, which electrified me. I never could have gone on with 
 my history without the use of his library. I was indebted 
 to him for a new interest in life. He introduced me to a 
 valuable circle of friends ; and it was through him that I 
 became acquainted with Mrs. Bowdoin, (afterwards Mrs. 
 Dearborn,) whose kindness and attention to me have been 
 unceasing. Mr. Buck minster s character was the perfection 
 of humanity. His intellectual powers were highly culti 
 vated and ennobled. Yet even the astonishing vigor and 
 brightness of his intellect was outdone by the goodness of 
 his heart. 
 
 " Mr. Buckminster assisted Miss Adams s researches, and 
 procured her information for her History of the Jews. He 
 took a warm interest in this oppressed people, and often 
 
212 PERSONAL QUALITIES. 
 
 prayed for them at the communion service in the same lan 
 guage in which Jesus prayed for them : ; Father, forgive 
 them, for they know not what they do ! 
 
 " It is impossible not to look back with admiration upon 
 the benevolence that prompted these kind attentions ; and it 
 is not a difficult effort of the imagination to enter the library, 
 and view these laborious and widely dissimilar students to 
 gether. The one distinguished by the natural ease, grace, 
 and elegance of his manners ; the other, timid and helpless. 
 The one, advancing with the elastic step of youth ; the other, 
 declining into the vale of years ; yet both drawn together 
 by those sympathies which spring from the fountain of per 
 fect and everlasting good. Who would not be touched by 
 the spectacle," adds Mrs. Lee, " of a young man of such 
 distinguished talents, equally sought by the world of science 
 and of fashion, extending a helping hand and devoting so 
 large a portion of his time to a timid and unassuming wom 
 an, shrinking from the ills of life, but who derived her hap 
 piness from the same sources that he did, literature and 
 religion ? When, from indisposition, she omitted for any 
 length of time her visits to his study, a kind note, or a still 
 kinder visit, alleviated the infirmities of her health." * 
 
 Miss Adams herself remarks : " I could not have 
 completed my History of the Jews, if I had not been 
 animated and encouraged by his participating in the in 
 terest I felt in this extraordinary people. Though en 
 tering into the details of the sufferings of the persecuted 
 Jewish nation, yet the enthusiasm of Mr. Buckminster 
 inspired me, and the pleasure of conversing with him 
 upon a subject with which he was intimately acquainted 
 rendered the time I was writing my History one of the 
 happiest periods of my life." 
 
 * From Mrs. George G. Lee s Memoir of Miss Hannah Adams. 
 
PERSONAL QUALITIES. 213 
 
 This was only one of many instances in which he 
 encouraged, animated, and helped the timid and the un 
 assuming, and aided retiring merit. Among his private 
 papers are many memorandums of sums obtained from 
 ladies of his parish for the indigent, or for those who, 
 like Miss Adams, asked only the encouragement and 
 sympathy of friendship. His calls upon their bounty 
 seem never to have been denied ; and among those 
 whose names appear, Mrs. Bow r 4oin, Winthrop, Ly- 
 man, Otis, Mrs. S. Cobb, all have gone to reap the 
 reward of their beneficence. 
 
 Perhaps there never was a period in the whole of 
 his short life, when he was more attractive to his friends, 
 or more valuable to society. His activity was un 
 wearied, his cheerfulness had known no blight ; for the 
 uncertainty that hung over his life was habitual to his 
 thoughts, and was merely a check to the too impetuous 
 pursuit of the riches of the mind. 
 
 " So winning was his aspect and address, 
 His smile so rich in bright felicities, 
 Accordant to a voice that charmed no less, 
 That who but saw him once, remembered long; 
 And some in whom such images are strong, 
 Have hoarded the impression in their heart, 
 Fancy s fond dreams and memories among, 
 Like some loved relics of romantic song, 
 Or cherished master-piece of ancient art." 
 
 Since his settlement, his malady had very much in 
 creased. He had scarcely been settled ten months, 
 when he wrote in his journal, October 31st, 1805, 
 " Another fit of epilepsy. I think I perceive my 
 memory fails me ! O God, save me from that hour ! " 
 
 And yet, notwithstanding this perpetual admonition of 
 his frailty, there never was a person in whom life was 
 
214 PERSONAL QUALITIES. 
 
 more joyous and gladsome. He had a great deal of 
 the Greek in his disposition. He entered deeply into 
 life. Every thing in nature, every external object of 
 life and beauty, was a source of joy to him. His inti 
 mate friend and biographer observes, "His head re 
 sembled the finest models of the antique," and though 
 certainly the form of the head is not an infallible sign 
 of the intellectual powers, yet the character here con 
 formed to the head.. Life, sentient life, was exuberant 
 in him, like a morning in spring. He saw harmony, 
 and grace, and beauty every where, from the smallest 
 flower that sips the dew to the brightest star that shines 
 in the firmament. 
 
 " The meanest floweret of the vale, 
 The simplest note that swells the gale, 
 The common sun, the air, the skies, 
 To him were opening paradise." 
 
 Although he was eminently spiritual, and the unseen 
 world was not a world of shadows, but of realities, to 
 him, there was nothing mystical in the tendencies of his 
 mind. What would have been the result of the Ger 
 man studies which he was just beginning at his death, 
 can only be conjectured. The mystical element might 
 have been developed as he proceeded in his inquiries. 
 The joyousness of the present might have been lost in 
 unsuccessful researches after the obscure and hidden ; 
 and the rational interpretation of that which was vouch 
 safed to his serious studies, might have been involved in 
 gropings after the impenetrable secrets of the future. 
 
 To return for a few moments to Dr. Buckminster, 
 He was at this time passing through one of the severest 
 afflictions of his life, and, although only fifty-four years 
 
DEATH OF MRS. BUCKMINSTER. 215 
 
 old, there appeared to be a general breaking up of the 
 fountains of health. The immediate cause was the death 
 of his wife, to whom he had been attached with a pas 
 sionate regard, exceeding that which he would have 
 approved in another to any earthly object. She had 
 formed, as he says in one of his letters, " the happi 
 ness and the ornament of his home," and now he was 
 bereft of the sweetness of life. Joseph, recording her 
 death in his journal, writes with fervor, " O God, sup 
 port my dear father ! " To afford his own aid in com 
 forting him, he went immediately to Portsmouth, and 
 spent more than a week, preaching for his father two 
 Sabbaths. 
 
 Although her illness had been long, her death at the 
 last was sudden and unexpected. It threw Dr. Buck- 
 minster into an agony of grief, in which his friends feared 
 for his life or his reason. The whole of the night and 
 day following her decease, he remained overwhelmed 
 with sorrow, his agitated footsteps pacing to and fro in 
 his study, so that even his children feared to approach 
 him. He was left with a family of seven children, four of 
 them being very young. His eldest daughters were now 
 old enough to take charge of the family, and he, soon 
 recovering his calmness and faith, presided over them 
 with a firmness and decision scarcely looked for in a 
 man so tender in his affections. But it is the hardest 
 and finest of materials, that, when drawn out into delicate 
 chords, vibrates at every breath, and thrills at the touch 
 of joy or sorrow. 
 
 Dr. Buckminster was very anxious to keep his family 
 together, and that they should depend upon the senti 
 ment of affection and union for their happiness. I 
 have endeavoured to express the intensity of the relig- 
 
216 CORRESFONDENCE. 
 
 ious sentiment in his life ; be was no less anxious to 
 enforce the absence of all worldliness, and the depend 
 ence of the heart upon spiritual good and mutual affec 
 tion, as the aliment of life to his family. It may, per 
 haps, provoke a smile, in these days, when material in 
 terests are so supreme, and life seems mean and homely 
 without the addition of luxury, to say, that his family en 
 joyed many of the best luxuries of the mind, and felt 
 themselves rich, when his income could never have 
 reached the amount of a thousand dollars. With this 
 sum, at a time when the expenses of an education were 
 much less than at present, he was able to educate both 
 his sons at Harvard University. 
 
 The letters of my brother that follow close the year. 
 
 " August, 1805. 
 
 " MY DEAR SISTER, I have purchased a very beautiful 
 little book,* which I wish you to accept, though you have 
 not, as the lady to whom these letters were addressed, been 
 presented with a set of the British poets, (which I hope, 
 however, one day to be able to send you,) for some of them 
 I know often amuse the leisure of young ladies, and I trust 
 will not long be unknown to you. If I should meet with any 
 thing equally elegant and pleasing, E. shall not be forgotten. 
 These letters are written by one of the most correct and im 
 partial critics now living. 
 
 " I know not but I ought to have written to both of you 
 while you were left alone at the head of the family ; if I 
 have been negligent, let this acknowledgment plead my 
 excuse. I hope, by the time this letter reaches you, you 
 have been relieved from anxiety by my father s return. 
 Write to me particularly about the state of his health; 
 whether it is amended by the journey ; whether the inci- 
 
 * Aiken s Letters upon the British Poets. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 217 
 
 dents of it were agreeable ; his companion pleasant ; wheth 
 er his expectations were answered ; and, above all, whether 
 his spirits and comfort are in any degree recovered. Would 
 to God that the duties of my parish had allowed me to be his 
 companion ! 
 
 * I have been very much employed of late in parochial 
 duty, owing to the great sickness among children. Within 
 the last month, I have attended eleven funerals. 
 
 " Your affectionate brother. 
 
 " P. S. I hear nothing of the baby and nurse in any of 
 papa s letters. I believe he thinks me a kind of creature who 
 does not care much whether you are dead or alive. How 
 ever, it is true that I am pretty much absorbed in myself, my 
 sermons, my parish, my singing, and other occupations." 
 
 " December, 1805. 
 
 " MY DEAR BROTHER, Nothing has given me more 
 pleasure than to hear of the happy turn which your inclina 
 tions have taken towards study. The taste for it being once 
 acquired, it will not easily be lost ; but, by God s blessing, 
 will preserve you from many temptations to which you 
 would otherwise be exposed, and provide you with a source 
 of the purest pleasure in your leisure moments, if you 
 should not be a professional man. And it is not necessary, 
 as some imagine, my dear brother, to study one of the pro 
 fessions because you have been through the preparatory 
 courses of college studies. They will adorn the life of a 
 merchant or an agriculturist, and be to you only an addi 
 tional incentive to any honorable pursuit. 
 
 " I wish you to be thoroughly grounded in your Latin and 
 Greek grammars. With a perfect knowledge of your rules, 
 every thing afterwards in parsing and construing will be 
 easy. But a deficiency in this knowledge is very seldom 
 supplied in advancing years. The preterites in Latin, and 
 the anomalous verbs in Greek, are of grel importance to a 
 19 
 
218 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 correct scholar. No man can presume to pass in England 
 for a liberally educated man, who is deficient in quantity, or 
 who is not master of prosody, and therefore makes mistakes 
 in pronunciation. The knowledge of geography, history, 
 logic, arid rhetoric may be very much supplied in mature 
 years ; but of the languages it cannot, because the memory 
 then does not easily retain rules. 
 
 " Be a good, regular, studious boy, and God will bless you. 
 If you are not a learned man, you may be what is much 
 better, a pious and useful one. But I sincerely hope, that, 
 as your mind enlarges, you will be more and more attached 
 to your books. It will give me the truest pleasure to hear 
 that you are growing in every thing good and honorable, and 
 that one of these days you will feel an inclination to come 
 and study with your brother, Joseph." 
 
 " MY DEAR SISTERS, I thank you for the articles for 
 my wardrobe. I could not but think, as I looked at the 
 immense number of stitches that you have set for your 
 brother, of the precious moments that might have been bet 
 ter employed. I send you a book,* that will, I am sure, 
 agreeably amuse those moments that you can spare for 
 reading. 
 
 " The reason of my not writing before has not been ill 
 ness ; neither ought I to say it has been too many avoca 
 tions, for a man can always find time to pen a few lines, 
 though the press of business may make him forget that he 
 ought to write, and this has been my case. I am glad you 
 have returned to the pleasures of home, and I doubt not 
 you have found them only enhanced by the variety you 
 
 have seen abroad. As to s French, I doubt whether 
 
 she will have resolution enough to master the first difficulties 
 without assistance. If she has a little easy introductory 
 book, of which, by the help of a dictionary, she can learn 
 
 * Knox s Elegant Extracts from the British Poets. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 219 
 
 the sense, it will be more attractive to her than to begin 
 with the grammar. If not, I will send her one. 
 
 " Thank papa for the book he sent me, and not the less 
 because I already possess it, and have read it. The Force 
 of Truth, or, at least, the force of conscience, ought to 
 strike a person very powerfully, who, with a Socinian creed, 
 has dared to subscribe, or to hold a living, in a church whose 
 articles are unquestionably Trinitarian, as was the case with 
 Mr. Scott. 
 
 This letter is as rambling as a young lady s at a boarding- 
 school. I will bid you good night, my dear sisters. Peace 
 ful slumbers, undisturbed by any gay recollections, be your 
 night s blessing. You have left a good name here ; remem 
 ber, it can be preserved only by real virtues, benevolence 
 of disposition, a cultivated mind, and, as the security of all 
 excellence, an inwrought sentiment of piety and moral ob 
 ligation. This is permanent ; good feeling is momentary. 
 Read Miss Hamilton on Religious Principle. E., and F. 
 also, pray read It. I~do not mean to preach, however. 
 
 " Your brother, J. S. B." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ORDINATION OF A CLASSMATE. MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 ANTHOLOGY CLUB. JOURNAL OF STUDIES. LETTERS. 
 
 IN January, 1806, Rev. Charles Lowell was settled 
 at the West Church in Boston. He and Buckminster 
 had been college classmates and intimate friends, and 
 the latter was chosen to deliver the right hand of fellow 
 ship. An unusual truth and tenderness was infused into 
 the fraternal address made to the candidate hy his friend, 
 in a service which always owes a portion of its effect to 
 natural feeling. 
 
 " If," he says, " in offering you the fellowship of the 
 churches, I should suffer myself to dwell with too much 
 fondness on expressions of personal good- will, you, I know, 
 would forgive me, but I should hardly have performed the 
 duty assigned me by this honorable council. 
 
 " We, and all our churches, are by this act united, not in 
 the bonds of an ecclesiastical league, not under the dominion 
 of infallible superiors, not for the purpose of strengthening 
 the secular influence of our religious societies, nor in the 
 spirit of any selfish and mercenary connection, but in those 
 equal and spiritual ties which God has hitherto blessed and 
 hallowed to the peace of the New England churches. For 
 we are all united in the same faith and profession, in the 
 same duties and hopes, in the same ordinances and liberties, 
 and, as we trust, in the same spirit also, under one Lord, 
 
ORDINATION OF A CLASSMATE. 221 
 
 even Jesus, and one God and Father of all, who is above 
 all,, and through all, and in all. " 
 
 This address was pronounced just as divisions were 
 beginning in the churches of the Boston Association, and 
 one of the publications of the day, speaking of it, said : 
 " Notwithstanding the sanctity of the occasion, the fol 
 lowing simile was received by the audience with a mur 
 mur of approbation." 
 
 u Is there not, amid all the varieties of opinion and faith, 
 enough left us in common to preserve a unity of spirit ? 
 What though the globes that compose our planetary system 
 are at some times nearer than at others, both to one another 
 and the sun ; now. crossing each other s path, now eclipsing 
 each other s light, and even sometimes appearing to our 
 short-sighted vision to have wandered irrecoverably, and to 
 have gone off into boundless space ; yet do we not know 
 that they are still reached by the genial beams of the cen 
 tral light, and continue in their widest aberrations to gravi 
 tate to the same point in the system ? And may we not be 
 lieve that the Great Head of the Church has always dis 
 pensed through the numerous societies of Christendom a 
 portion of the healing influences of his religion : has held 
 his churches invisibly together when they have appeared to 
 be rushing farthest asunder ? and through all the order and 
 confusion, conjunction and apposition, progress and decline 
 of churches, has kept alive in every communion a supreme 
 regard to his authority, a portion of the spirit of their 
 Master, as a common principle of relation to him and to one 
 another ? " 
 
 He closes with these words : 
 
 " If I might be permitted now to express a wish for you 
 and for myself, it would be this : that, as our gracious 
 19* 
 
222 THE MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 Master, when he was on earth, sent forth his seventy evan 
 gelists by two and two, to preach the Gospel in Judea, 
 he would also send us forth together by his authority, would 
 permit us to travel in company through the journey of a use 
 ful ministry, and would enable us to return to his presence 
 together at last, rejoicing to find that our names have been 
 written, with the names of our people, in the book of life. 1 
 
 It was in this year that my brother began to contribute 
 to the pages of the Anthology, a monthly review, which 
 had succeeded the Literary JMiscellany, a short-lived 
 periodical, commenced the previous year in Cambridge. 
 The Anthology was supported by a society of gentlemen 
 in Boston and Cambridge, consisting of the youngest 
 of the clergy and many distinguished laymen. It was 
 planned in a wholly private manner, and the business 
 was afterwards conducted at weekly evening meetings, 
 held in the beginning in succession, at the houses of the 
 members. This meeting took the name of the Antholo 
 gy Club. A light supper was allowed, but it was never 
 a convivial club. Perhaps it was one of the most agree 
 able literary societies that ever existed in Boston, and 
 among its members were some of the most honored 
 names in every profession. It will show the almost vil 
 lage character of Boston society forty years ago, and the 
 early hours of fashionable parties, to mention that ladies 
 would not invite company on Anthology evening, be 
 cause the meeting of the club robbed them of the pres 
 ence of the most agreeable gentlemen. 
 
 The introductory address of the sixth volume of the 
 Anthology, written by Mr. Buckminster, thus explains 
 the purpose of the publication, and apologizes for its de 
 ficiencies : 
 
THE MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY. 223 
 
 " The faults of our work, of which no one can be more 
 sensible than its editors, result from causes which we can 
 only hope to counteract, but not entirely to remove. The 
 Anthology has hitherto been supported by the unpaid and 
 unregulated contributions of a few literary men, who are 
 well pleased when the public profits by their reading, or 
 shares in their amusement. They have yet had no extraor 
 dinary stimulus to write but the friendly curiosity and occa 
 sional encomiums of men like themselves. They are not 
 enlisted in the support of any denomination, nor are they 
 inspired with the fanaticism of literary crusaders, associated 
 to plant their standard on territory recovered from heathens 
 or heretics. They are satisfied if they can in any way con 
 tribute to the mild influence of our common Christianity, 
 and to the elegant tranquillity of a literary lifo. They are 
 gentle knights, who wish to guard the seats of taste and 
 morals at home from the incursions of the Paynim hosts, 
 happy if they should now and then rescue a fair captive 
 from the giants of romance, or dissolve the spell by which 
 many a youthful genius is held by the enchantment of a 
 corrupt literature. If, with these objects, they can retain the 
 pleasures of lettered society, 
 
 Mundoeque parvo sub lare pauperum 
 Coenae, sine aulacis et ostro, 
 Sollicitam explicare frontem, 
 
 they will try to be as insensible to the neglect and con 
 tumely of the great vulgar and the small, as they are to the 
 pelting of the pitiless storm without, when taste and good 
 humor sit around the fire within." 
 
 When it is recollected that all of the contributors to 
 the Anthology were men engaged in laborious and ex 
 acting professions ; that their contributions were the 
 fruits of chance half-hours, or of moments lighted by the 
 
224 THE ANTHOLOGY CLUB. 
 
 midnight lamp, after days of fatiguing labor in their of 
 fices ; " that they did not pass under the rigorous review 
 of any single editor " ; that each was his own censor, 
 proof-reader, and critic ; there is certainly a wonderful 
 degree of unity of purpose and harmony of sentiment, 
 and a general respectability, in its pages, highly credit 
 able to the dawning literature of the day. Any one 
 reading it now will be startled at the independent tone of 
 its criticism. 
 
 Among its regular contributors were the Rev. Mr. 
 Emerson, and Rev. Dr. J. S. J. Gardiner, who wrote 
 upon classical themes and supplied many literary anec 
 dotes. Professor Willard of Cambridge, whose articles 
 were learned criticisms or reviews, Mr. William Wells, 
 Mr. Frank C banning, Mr. William Tudor, were all occa 
 sional contributors. A. M. Walter, Esq., who seems to 
 have been the darling of a numerous circle of friends, 
 was one of its most responsible supporters. Then there 
 were many very pleasant persons who belonged to the 
 club, who did not contribute to the pages of its periodi 
 cal, drones in the hive, that were too agreeable to be 
 turned out. Mr. John Lowell enriched its pages with 
 his graphic " Letters from Europe," in a series through 
 two or three years. The papers under the signature of 
 R. were valuable and rich, supposed to have been writ 
 ten by Mr. Rockwell of Boston. There were many fugi 
 tive papers sent from regions far from Boston. Daniel 
 Webster, from the rocky wilds of New Hampshire, 
 enriched its pages with his winged thoughts ; and some 
 eloquent papers upon Greek literature came from Maine, 
 which proved, as was remarked at the time, that their 
 author dwelt nearer to Athens than the editors them- 
 
THE ANTHOLOGY CLUB. 225 
 
 selves.* Samuel Dexter wrote occasionally for its 
 pages, and a tardy Remarker, full of calm and trans 
 parent thought, proved that Dr. Kirkland could some 
 times, amid serious cares, finish a lighter production. 
 
 Perhaps, of some of these gentlemen, it may be said 
 that they have left no productions of the pen by which 
 they are remembered ; their contributions to the An 
 thology lie forgotten in its pages. But is it rational or 
 fair to complain that wine has not been stored in the 
 cask, and preserved for future years, from the vines 
 whose clusters have been gathered from day to day, as 
 soon as they were ripe, to refresh the thirsty lip, to 
 soothe the sick, and to serve for the dessert at the table 
 of every passing day ? There was at that time no class 
 of literary men, and had there been, there was little 
 encouragement given to literature. Low as was the price 
 of the Anthology, it had far more readers than sub 
 scribers ; and though the contributions were all gratui 
 tous, it scarcely paid the expense of printing. 
 
 Mr. Buckminsler s anonymous contributions to the An 
 thology were very numerous. It is impossible at this time 
 to know how numerous. Rough sketches are found among 
 his papers of many articles which were anonymous at the 
 time, and the author unsuspected. The first thing that 
 was known to be his, was a letter, written while he was in 
 England, containing an account of his visit to Johnson s 
 birthplace at Lichfield. As Johnson is as interesting 
 at this day as at the time when it was \vritten, and as 
 it is a fair specimen of his epistolary style, the letter 
 is inserted here. 
 
 " Birmingham, June 19, 1806. 
 " My DEAR FRIEND, - Yesterday I travelled the whole 
 
 * Charles Davis, Esq., of Portland. 
 
226 DESCRIPTION OF THE 
 
 distance from Buxton to Birmingham (sixty-one miles) in 
 a post-chaise, with a young American, born near Ports 
 mouth ; and we shall probably keep company till we reach 
 the metropolis, the urbs sacra, the city of the gods. This 
 charming country is worth a voyage across the Atlantic to 
 behold. Ceres and Flora must have laid their heads to 
 gether, I think, to lay it out, and I have found that Thom 
 son s Summer is a perpetual commentary upon the road I 
 have been travelling. 
 
 " Yesterday, about 5 o clock, P. M., I passed through Lich- 
 field. I purposely delayed dining till this late hour, that 
 I might spend a longer time on this classic ground. As 
 soon as I alighted at the hotel, I inquired for the house 
 where Dr. Johnson was born. I was immediately shown 
 to one about two hundred rods off, and I am sure I should 
 not have walked with a quicker step, or with more expecta 
 tion, to see the amphitheatre of Vespasian. 
 
 " The house where Johnson was born stands in the cen 
 tre of the town of Lichfield, at the corner of a square, with 
 in a few paces of the market and the Church of St. Mary s, 
 I think. It is now an old three-story building, rather showy 
 without, and rather shabby within. The first apartment on 
 the lower floor, which was the bookstore of Johnson s father, 
 is now a tinker s shop, filled with copper tea-kettles, tin 
 pans, candlesticks, &c. ; while a small room adjoining is oc 
 cupied by a maker of electrical machines. In the chamber 
 over this shop, once divided into two, that mighty spirit, 
 destined to illuminate the generation which received him, 
 and to exalt our estimate of human capacity, was ushered 
 into this world. This chamber is now, as I imagine, the 
 tinker s drawing-room ! There remains a small fire-place 
 in one corner, and the walls are hung round with paltry 
 pictures, 
 
 The seasons framed with listing find a place, 
 And brave Prince William shows his lampblack face. 
 
BIRTHPLACE OF DR. JOHNSON. 227 
 
 The floors are much worn, dirty, and uneven, and every 
 thing within the house bears the appearance of poverty and 
 decay. The tinman, named Evans, was not at home ; but 
 his wife, a chatty old woman, told us, in answer to our 
 queries, that the present rent which they paid was eighteen 
 guineas, and that the taxes were as much more. This, to 
 be sure, is quite as much as such a house would be worth in 
 Boston, and nothing but its central situation can render it so 
 high. The old lady then called her little grand-daughter, to 
 conduct us to what is called the Parchment house, to which 
 Johnson s father afterwards removed, and to show us the 
 willow-tree, of which there is a tradition that it was planted 
 by Johnson or his father, but nobody knows which. However 
 this may be, it is one of the most remarkable trees in all 
 England. It is certainly twice as large as any willow I 
 ever saw in America, and it is allowed to surpass every 
 other in this country. The tinker s wife told us that her 
 house was frequently visited by travellers, and I dare to say 
 that the gratuities which she receives for her civilities in 
 showing it amount at least to the rent of the house. Here 
 is a subject for meditation. A tinman is now able to secure 
 a comfortable habitation by showing the chamber where 
 
 Johnson was born that Johnson, who has wandered 
 
 many a night through the streets of London, because he 
 was unable to pay for a lodging ! 
 
 " As we were returning to our inn, we espied a curious 
 figure of an old man, with laced round hat, scarlet coat, 
 with tarnished trimmings of the last age, and a bell under 
 his arm. Upon accosting him, we found that he had been 
 town-crier for many years, and a kind of Caleb Quotem ; 
 that he always shaved Dr. Johnson when he came to visit 
 Lichfield ; that his name was Jenney, seventy-four years 
 old, with strength and spirits unimpaired. 
 
 " The cathedral at Lichfield is worthy the attention of 
 every traveller. Who shall say that the daily view of this 
 
228 LETTER ON DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ancient, dark, and reverend pile, once the residence of 
 monks, may not have contributed to impress on the mind 
 of young Johnson a superstitious veneration for the splen 
 dor of a church establishment, and have even given him 
 that melancholy bias, which he discovered toward many 
 of the ceremonies and doctrines of the Church of Rome. 
 Indeed, I know of nothjng so calculated to inspire a secret 
 suspicion of the presence of the departed, as to walk through 
 the long, still, and echoing aisles of a Gothic cathedral, 
 lined on each side with the tombs, and ornamented with 
 the figures, of men who died centuries ago ; for while you 
 are trembling at the sound of your own steps in these lofty 
 and silent cloisters, and seem to shrink into littleness under 
 the venerable grandeur of the roofs, you can hardly bring 
 yourself to believe that such a vast and solemn structure 
 is uninhabited ; and after having heard the great gate close 
 upon your coming out, you cannot avoid the impression, 
 that you are leaving these awful retreats to some invisible 
 and ghostly tenants. 
 
 " Dr. Johnson, and David Garrick, and Gilbert Walms- 
 ley, have monuments in this cathedral very near to one 
 another. You remember the Latin epitaph which Johnson 
 wrote for his father s tombstone, who was buried here ; I 
 know you will hardly forgive the dean and chapter, when I 
 tell you, that, in paving the church, they have lately re 
 moved it, as well as another, which Dr. J. caused to be 
 placed over the grave of a young woman, who was vio 
 lently in love with his father. The inscription which Dr. J. 
 wrote was nothing more than this, Here lies a 
 stranger, ob. &c. This anecdote I had from the verger, a 
 tattling old man, who showed us the cathedral. He professed 
 to have been very intimate (these were his words) with 
 Dr. J. His name is Furneaux." 
 
 Besides the description of the destruction of Goldau, 
 
LITERARY CONTROVERSY. 229 
 
 sent from Europe, there is a letter from Paris, contain 
 ing "A sketch of the present state of literature and 
 theology in Paris." 
 
 There is in the pages of the Anthology a curious 
 controversy between the Rev. Dr. J. S. J. Gardiner and 
 Buckrninster, upon the merits of Gray as a poet. This 
 controversy bears some resemblance to the discussions 
 between the romantic and classical schools in litera 
 ture. Dr. Gardiner maintains with dry reasoning that 
 Pope s is the only true model for real poetry. And 
 Buckminster supports, in the following passage, the opin 
 ion that the most thrilling touches of sublimity and beau 
 ty are consistent with great indistinctness of images and 
 conceptions. 
 
 " It is hardly to be believed, before making the experi 
 ment, that we should be so much affected as we are by 
 passages which convey no definite picture to the mind. 
 We must acknowledge that there is a higher spe 
 cies of poetry than the mere language of reason. Spenser, 
 Milton, and even Dryden, knew this, and they studied suc 
 cessfully the Italian poets ; but after the time of Dryden, 
 our English poetry began to be formed too exclusively upon 
 that of the French. The authority of Pope has been emi 
 nently useful, but the world is not yet persuaded that to be 
 a poet it is indispensable to write like Pope 
 
 " For my own part, I take as much delight in contemplat 
 ing the rich hues that succeed one another without order in 
 a deep cloud in the west, which has no prescribed shape, 
 as in viewing the seven colors of the rainbow, disposed in 
 a form exactly semicircular. After having read any poem 
 once, we recur to it afterwards, not as a whole, but for the 
 beauty of particular passages 
 
 " The distinguishing excellence of Gray s poetry is, I 
 20 
 
LITERARY CONTROVERSY. 
 
 think, to be found in the astonishing force and beauty of his 
 epithets. In other poets, if you are endeavouring to recol 
 lect a passage, and find that a single word still eludes you, 
 it is not impossible to supply it occasionally with something 
 equivalent or superior. But let any one attempt this with 
 Gray s poetry, and he will find that he does not even ap 
 proach the beauty of the original. Like the single window 
 in Aladdin s palace, which the Grand Vizier undertook to 
 finish with diamonds equal to the rest, but found, after a 
 long trial, that he was not rich enough to furnish the jewels, 
 nor ingenious enough to dispose them ; so there are lines 
 in Gray, which critics and poets might labor for ever to sup 
 ply, and without success. This wonderful richness of ex 
 pression has perhaps injured his fame. For sometimes a 
 single word, by giving rise in the mind of the reader to a 
 succession of images, so preoccupies it as to obscure the 
 lustre of the succeeding epithets. The mind is fatigued 
 and retarded by the crowd of beauties, soliciting the atten 
 tion at the same moment to different graces of thought and 
 expression." 
 
 Dr. Gardiner, in his reply, again maintains, 
 
 " That he knows of no sublime passage in Homer, Vir 
 gil, or Milton, but what is perfectly intelligible ; and scarce 
 ly a description which would not make a good picture. In 
 deed, I lay it down as a general maxim, that whatever im 
 agery a good painter cannot execute on the canvas must 
 necessarily be incorrect. If there be any exception to this 
 rule, it can only be where images are presented to the 
 mind which are not subjects of the eye, as the rattling of 
 the quiver on the shoulders of Apollo on his march to avenge 
 his insulted priest. 
 
 " In his Ode for Music, (an odd title, by the way,) 
 Gray has these lines : 
 
LITERARY CONTROVERSY. 231 
 
 And thus they speak in soft accord 
 The liquid language of the skies. 
 
 " Now I should be happy if you would inform me in 
 what consists the astonishing force and beauty of this 
 epithet. If Gray had written the language of the liquid 
 skies, we might have supposed he meant thunder in rainy 
 weather. But I presume the beauty of this epithet arises 
 from that inimitable obscurity which is the great source of 
 Gray s sublimity 
 
 " The ode on Summer, published in the last Sylva, is supe 
 rior to Gray s on the Spring, and, without borrowing a single 
 thought or expression from him, exhibits all his peculiari 
 ties : his quaintness of epithets, his affected alliterations, 
 and the general glitter and tinsel of his style." 
 
 Dr. Gardiner closes thus : " Sincerely wishing that 
 you will in future employ your acknowledged talents 
 as a writer more usefully than in the defence of ab 
 surdity." 
 
 Buckminster answers with a further vindication of 
 Gray, and closes thus : u I beg leave to reciprocate 
 your benevolent wish, with a little variation ; that, in 
 stead of employing your c acknowledged talents as a 
 poet in burlesque imitations of Gray, you would have 
 the goodness to give us an ode equal to the Bard. " 
 
 It would perhaps be hardly worth while to call the 
 history of this gentle controversy from the oblivion of 
 the pages of the Anthology, were it not to introduce 
 an anecdote recollected and imparted by the Hon. 
 James Savage, a member of the club. " Contro 
 versy," he says, " sprang up in the club on the literary 
 nature of Gray s odes, and the war began with a bur 
 lesque ode to Winter, by our president, Rev. J. S. J. 
 Gardiner, who followed it up with one on Summer, 
 
232 RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW 
 
 also in the Anthology. In the same No., Buckmin- 
 ster gave a forcible defence of the imagery and epi 
 thets of the poet, which, the next month, was replied to 
 by the assailant, and, in the following No., was strength 
 ened by the other side ; and this also was counter 
 worked by another parody of the lyric inspiration, in 
 which Gray s great odes were caricatured. A fourth 
 attempt at the ludicrous, by our president, contained 
 something unguardedly personal from the satirist to his 
 antagonist, which produced strong though silent emo 
 tions of sympathy in many of the party. In an instant, 
 the writer threw the inconsiderate effusion into the fire. 
 This," says Mr. Savage, " as a striking instance of the 
 powerful influence of the gentleness of Mr. Buckmin- 
 ster, and of the profound regard felt for him by a critic 
 of opposite sentiments in a protracted controversy, has 
 dwelt forty years in my memory ; yet the kindly natured 
 polemics had, I dare say, in half as many weeks, utterly 
 forgotten it. From that moment, no allusion was made 
 in the club to Gray s merits." 
 
 Another object, the design of which originated in the 
 club, and was most earnestly urged by my brother, 
 was to rescue from oblivion, and review in the Anthology, 
 the American books that had been printed since the 
 settlement of the country. In the introduction to this 
 department of the Anthology, called " Retrospective 
 Notices of American Literature," written by himself, 
 he says : 
 
 " We propose to commence a review of books in Ameri 
 can literature, which have either been forgotten, or have 
 not hitherto received the attention which they deserve. In- 
 
OF AMERICAN BOOKS. 233 
 
 terested as we are in every thing that relates to the honor of 
 our country, we are not ashamed to express our conviction 
 that one reason of the low estimate in which our literature 
 is held among ourselves, as well as in Europe, is, that there 
 has been no regular survey of this field of letters. It is 
 supposed to be utterly barren, because it is so wide and 
 desolate, and because there has never been a map of the 
 region. But as in the highest parts of a mountainous coun 
 try, which appear at a distance to be covered with eternal 
 snows, you will discover in crevices and little spots some 
 humble and modest plants, which sufficiently reward the 
 toilsome ascent of an enthusiastic botanist ; so, in the exten 
 sive if not copious records of American learning, we hope 
 to detect a few rare and undescribed specimens, which 
 may, by this means, awaken at least the regard of some 
 future historian of literature. It is unfortunately true, that, 
 while every country in modem Europe has produced copi 
 ous annals of its literature, or maintained regular journals 
 of its new works, this country has, till within a few years, 
 had nothing of the kind." 
 
 After saying that the design would not embrace works 
 in theology, he remarks : 
 
 " It would be an endless task to review even the works 
 of tolerable merit in this class, which have issued from the 
 presses of New England alone. Here we are proud to 
 mention the works of Jonathan Edwards, a man whose 
 powers of mind need not have bowed before the genius 
 of Locke or of Hartley, and whose theological research, 
 in a remote part of an unlettered country, would have been 
 considered honorable to any divine, surrounded with learned 
 libraries, and aided by the constant intercourse of men of 
 erudition. But we decline to enter this field of literary his 
 tory, because it is perhaps not only the best known, but 
 20* 
 
234 EETROSPECTIVE REVIEW. 
 
 would also be less generally interesting. Neither shall we 
 trespass upon the ground of that respectable and industri 
 ous society, which has already published several volumes of 
 
 historical recollections 
 
 . " Nothing seems at present to be in the way of our 
 gradually taking rank in the scale of literary nations but 
 our avarice ; and the extraordinary opportunities we have 
 had of making money, as it is called, are at least some 
 
 apology for our immoderate love of gain 
 
 " We can never in this country possess many of the luxu 
 ries of the fine arts which older countries enjoy ; but we 
 may learn to love the more refined and loftier elegances of 
 literature and taste. These can never be entirely debased 
 by sensuality ; they never can be completely pressed into 
 the cause of corruption. God grant that our expectations 
 may not be disappointed, for we think we can discern the 
 dawn of better days. l Novus sceculorum nascitur ordo." 1 
 
 He proceeded to redeem the engagement by the re 
 view of u Logan s Translation of Cato Major, a quarto 
 volume printed by Dr. Franklin in Philadelphia, in 
 1744." It was the first and the best translation of an 
 ancient classic which had appeared in this country. The 
 translator was Mr. Logan of Philadelphia, and the work 
 of translating was begun in his sixtieth year. 
 
 The review of Cato Major was carried through three 
 numbers of the Anthology. The articles that were fur 
 nished by Mr. Buckminster, after this, were generally of 
 a theological character, ending with a review of Gries- 
 bach s New Testament in the tenth and last volume of 
 the Anthology. 
 
 An historical and more permanent interest attaches to 
 ihe Anthology Club from the fact that the first idea was 
 started, and the first design planned, of the Boston Athe- 
 
ORIGIN OF THE BOSTON ATHENJEUM. 235 
 
 nseum, in one of these evening meetings. To William 
 S. Shaw, who, although not a frequent writer, was an 
 active member of the club, belongs the honor of first 
 proposing the Athenaeum. Upon another page will be 
 found some curious details of the responsibility assumed 
 by him, and the informality with which the business was 
 at first conducted.* 
 
 In connection with the Anthology, and to show Mr. 
 Buckminster s warm interest in this publication, part of a 
 letter to Mr. Shaw, written from England, is introduced 
 in this place. 
 
 " I cannot say that I am entirely pleased with some of the 
 last numbers of the Anthology. I fear that, in composing 
 the Si/lva, too much attention is paid to showing specimens 
 of fine writing and sentimental beauties, rather than to mak 
 ing it curious for literary memoranda. I feel, too, on this 
 side of the water, those defects which are almost inherent 
 in the work, and which will keep it, I fear, from being inter 
 esting in Europe. These are, first, that we are amazingly 
 destitute of any thing like scientific information and curious 
 research. Secondly, the books we are called to review are 
 very trifling, and have nothing to attract readers in Europe. 
 Besides, I think we waste too much of our time upon fugi 
 tive pamphlets, and give them a page, when many of them 
 should be despatched in a line. Lastly, we have too many 
 heavy dissertations, theme-like communications, which no 
 one reads, even among us, but the writer ; and even if our 
 criticisms and disquisitions were to possess as much taste as 
 we sometimes fancy they do, yet they can hardly boast of 
 originality, the only thing which will attract readers here. 
 They will not look, here, into an American publication, which 
 
 * See the correspondence of Shaw and Buckminster, Chapter 
 XVIII. 
 
236 THE ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 gives them nothing but the drippings of their own. These 
 circumstances do not in the least diminish my zeal for sup 
 porting our Anthology with all our might, but they induce 
 me to despair of seeing it awaken the attention and circu 
 late among the readers of Europe. However, nil desperan- 
 dum ; I was going to add the rest of the quotation, but 
 alas ! our dear Walter is dead, the life and animating soul 
 
 of the club ! 
 
 " Give my love to all the Anthologists, even the new 
 ones. I am delighted with Kirkland s address of the editors, 
 in the new volume. Be careful, I beseech you, about ad 
 mitting new members. I am very much afraid, that, dur 
 ing my absence, you will metamorphose it from a club of 
 friends into a club of editors. But not a word of this. En 
 passant,^ I am sorry to see the articles of literary intelli 
 gence so scanty. Has the former collector relaxed his in 
 dustry, or given up the task ? or, rather, has the death of 
 our dear Walter paralyzed, for the moment, his activity ? 
 Once more ; I am mortified, whenever I think that no re 
 view of Marshall s Life of Washington has yet appeared 
 in the Anthology. Would it not be well for the editors to 
 make a polite request to Dr. Holmes, who deserves the hon 
 orable name of the American annalist, that he would under 
 take to give us a careful and adequate review of this great 
 national work ? I know of no man better qualified. It is 
 time to wipe away several disgraceful omissions of this sort. 
 Webster s Dictionary has never been reviewed. Lathrop s 
 Sermons ! pray, what are our theological auxiliaries about ? 
 I see no traces of their hands." 
 
 To the above inadequate account of the Anthology is 
 only added, that many of the Sylvas of that publication, 
 which were always anonymous, were furnished by my 
 brother, particularly after his return from Europe, con 
 sisting of literary information, collected there, which 
 
JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 237 
 
 was too trifling or insufficient to weave into a graver 
 article. 
 
 It may seem astonishing to some minds, that, occu 
 pied as he was with the parochial duties of a large so 
 ciety, he could find time and inclination to devote to a 
 publication like the Anthology. But, as has been ob 
 served in another page of this memoir, he was a student, 
 in the truest meaning of the word. He loved study for 
 itself, and devoted himself cheerfully to the self-denial 
 which a life of study demands ; and, in his favorite pur 
 suits, he met with little or no sympathy from others to 
 animate his solitary labors beneath the midnight lamp. 
 It was, therefore, the greatest delight, and the most 
 agreeable relaxation, to him, to meet with friends and 
 associates in those lighter pursuits where the Muses and 
 the Graces mingled, in the pages of the Anthology. 
 
 To afford some idea of the rapid intellectual survey 
 by which he compassed his studies, the journal of his 
 reading for rather more than a year is given. It com 
 prises the reading of the year preceding his ordination.* 
 
 " I am induced, by the example of Gibbon and others, to 
 commence a diary, which shall contain a brief record of the 
 progress of my studies, and of the distribution of my time. 
 I begin upon a day which finds me in the midst of the pe 
 rusal of more than four books. Let the confession of an 
 error upon this point be the first step towards amendment. 
 My morning s occupation is the perusal of Benson on the 
 Epistles. The translation of DalzePs Collectanea Grseca 
 occupies my spare moments. 
 
 * This journal of studies belongs to the years 1804 - 5. It was the 
 first intention of the writer to introduce it in an appendix. But it hav 
 ing been thought best to give it a place in the work, it was too late to 
 insert it in the preceding chapter. 
 
238 JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 
 
 " December 18/A, 1803. Began the first volume of Bar 
 row s Works, folio. Read his Life, by Abraham Hill. Bar 
 ren of interest, and written with great affectation of humil 
 ity. Read the first sermon on the Pleasantness of Religion. 
 He is very fond of using epithets. There is scarcely a sub 
 stantive without two or more adjectives. 
 
 " December 22d. Finished Benson s Essay upon the 
 Abolition of the Ceremonial Law, pp. 106. His obscu 
 rity, or rather his perplexity, upon some points, arises from 
 the paucity of his materials. He divides the Jewish law 
 into moral, political, and ceremonial ; the first always bind 
 ing on all Christians, as part of the law of nature and of 
 Christianity, where it is incorporated and improved. The 
 second is obligatory upon the Jews, during the existence of 
 their civil polity, and its force is not impaired by their em 
 bracing Christianity. This makes no change in the civil re 
 lations of men. This law also binds the proselytes when 
 inhabitants of the Jewish territory. The ceremonial law 
 is not binding upon Jews, Gentiles, or Christians. Paul s 
 doctrine upon this point may be stated in the following 
 method : 
 
 " 1. The Gentile Christians he openly declared unfettered 
 by it, and such was his care upon this point, that most of his 
 epistles are filled with censures on the conduct of the Jews 
 and Judaizing Christians who would induce the converted 
 Gentiles to submit to its injunctions. 2. The devout Gen 
 tiles who had been converted to Christianity, of whom Cor 
 nelius and his family were the first fruits, were exhorted, 
 by the council of apostles at Jerusalem, to observe the in 
 junctions mentioned in the decree, Acts xv. To this they 
 were subject by the Jewish code. 3. But neither these nor 
 the Jews were really bound by the ceremonial law after the 
 death of Christ, although Paul and Barnabas, to whom alone 
 this was revealed, were cautious of publishing its abolition, 
 in order to avoid shocking the prejudices of bigoted Jews. 
 
JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 239 
 
 " Subject for a sermon, to illustrate the character of Paul 
 from this subject. 
 
 " Read Gibbon s Miscellaneous Works, 2 vols., pp. 300. 
 Wharton s Life of Pope. It contains little more information 
 than Johnson s, and is written with great slovenliness of 
 manner. 
 
 " December 23d. Reviewed Benson s Essay. Continued 
 Gibbon. In reading, his method was to follow the suit of 
 his ideas, rather than that of his books. This demanded an 
 inexhaustible library. The principal source of his erudition 
 seems to have been the Memoirs of the Academy of Belles 
 Lettres, a book not to be procured here. One reason of 
 our having so few learned men is, the want of books. 
 
 " December 27lh. Read Benson s Two Essays upon 
 the Government of the Primitive Church and their Public 
 Worship. The following are some of his conclusions: 
 That the apostles, at their first planting of any church, did 
 not ordain any officers, but left it to the direction of some of 
 the first converts, called elders. That this title, so often men 
 tioned in the New Testament, signified no regular officer. 
 Their regular officers were usually ordained at the second 
 visit of the apostles. The expression ordaining elders is 
 interpreted by Benson to mean, ordaining elders to be bish 
 ops and deacons. These, after they were ordained, were 
 sometimes spoken of under the names of elders and priests, 
 till at length the name of bishop was appropriated to the 
 presiding bishop, to distinguish him from the other bishops, 
 who were, in the second century, presbyters or elders. Ig 
 natius is the strongest authority on the episcopal side ; but 
 he does not intimate that his bishop was a diocesan bishop, 
 but only a parochial bishop. 
 
 " January Is/, 1804. Began Belsham s Elements of the 
 Philosophy of the Human Mind. It is ridiculously exact 
 and copious on the subject of syllogisms. In every other 
 part of logic, his compendium is useful and his definitions 
 
240 JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 
 
 accurate. Read, same day, Barrow s Sermons on the Duty 
 of Prayer, sixth and seventh sermons, pp. 48 - 63. 
 
 " January 2d. Read forty-four pages in Benson s sec 
 ond volume. Mr. Tracy s Speech in the Senate, on the 
 passage of the Amendment of the Constitution as respects 
 the choice of President. He shows, that, in the Constitution, 
 there are several marks of concession and compromise be 
 tween the large and small States. That the Senate is a 
 body chosen and constituted on the federative principle of 
 State equality, which was the principle of the old Confeder 
 ation. That the Hbuse of Representatives is elected on the 
 popular principle of a majority of members, and, of course, 
 the larger States, who send the greater number of represen 
 tatives, will always rule here. He shows, that, in the old 
 mode of choosing President, by voting for two persons, it 
 was intended that there should be a chance of no electoral 
 choice, which would throw the ultimate decision into the 
 hands of the House of Representatives, voting by States. In 
 such an event, the small States would recover that influence 
 which they would not have enjoyed in the popular manner, 
 because their proportion of electors would be very small. 
 But the present amendment goes to secure a choice by the 
 electors in the first instance. Of course, the great States 
 will always have it in their power to give a President to the 
 Union, and the federative principle is destroyed. The Con 
 stitution requires two thirds of the House to concur in an 
 amendment. Tracy and Plumer, New Hampshire, con 
 tended that this mean ; two thirds of the whole House, and 
 not of the members present. 
 
 " January 6lh. Finished Belsham. A most masterly 
 compendium and recapitulation of the argument of neces 
 sity, and a fair statement of the libertarian objections. The 
 definition of philosophical liberty, given by Gregory, is 
 worthy of remark. Read, in the Monthly, review of Dod- 
 son s Isaiah, and Sturgis s reply. 
 
JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 241 
 
 "January Sth. Read 3d No. of Edinburgh Review. 
 Gentz Etat de PEurope, a most masterly work. Shep 
 herd s Poggia Bracciolina. The reviewer here intimates 
 an opinion that the praises which have been bestowed upon 
 Roscoe s work are above its merits. When I formerly gave 
 such an opinion, it was reprobated without mercy. Hay- 
 ley s Life of Cowper. It is curious to observe the different 
 decisions of these Scotch reviewers and the Monthly, in 
 their character of Hayley s style. The Scotch say, The 
 little Mr. Hayley writes in these volumes is by no means 
 well written. The Monthly says, A work which, on the 
 whole, is very well written. In my humble opinion, Hay- 
 ley s style is redundant, sometimes inflated, often slovenly. 
 The decisions of these reviewers are delivered with the 
 most dogmatical air, and with all the contemptuousness of 
 youthful criticism. 
 
 " January 9th. Read, before breakfast, Price s Sermon 
 on the Security of a Virtuous Course, and Barrow s on the 
 same text, Prov. x. 9. Their arrangement is dissimilar. 
 How much more pleasant is the style of Price, but at the 
 distance of more than a century ! In the evening, read 
 Priestley s Sermons on the Duty of not living to Our 
 selves and on the Danger of Bad Habits. They are both 
 admirable. Read Pope s Pastorals in Wharton s edition. 
 Wharton seems to write notes merely for the sake of find 
 ing fault with his author. He prefers the Pastorals of The 
 ocritus to Virgil s, and says there is only one false rhyme 
 in Pope s first Pastoral ! 
 
 " January 10th. Read Michaelis on the Epistle of Peter, 
 to compare him with Benson. They agree in opinion as to 
 the two most important difficulties in this epistle, namely, to 
 whom it was addressed and where it was written. Read, al 
 so, Lardner s Letter on the Logos and First Postscript. This 
 letter was written in 1730, when the Arian controversy 
 was at its height, and is a remarkable instance of private 
 21 
 
242 JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 
 
 investigation and unbiased belief. It lay unpublished in 
 the author s cabinet nineteen years. 
 
 "January \\tli. Read Lardner s Second Postscript, 
 pp. 205. Read a review of a Dissertation, published by 
 Teylor s Theological Society. It proposes, as the bond of 
 union of all Christians, the belief of the Divine authority 
 of the doctrines of Jesus. This is the only common prin 
 ciple of union. 
 
 " January 14th. Read Benson. His Dissertation on 
 1st of Peter, iii. 17, is more ingenious and probable than 
 the other opinions which he enumerates, but even this must 
 yield to the interpretation of Wakefield. 
 
 " Read again the review of Stewart s account of Robert 
 son in the Edinburgh Review. There is an affectation of 
 refinement in this critique which sometimes disgusts the 
 reader. 
 
 " January 20th. JBenson and Michaelis." 
 
 He goes on until February 6th, reading Benson and 
 Michaelis. The remarks are omitted. 
 
 " February 1th. Farmer on Demoniacs. 8th, finished 
 Farmer. To me, he is learned, ingenious, temperate. It 
 must have been very difficult for the antagonists of the 
 overbearing Warburton to keep their temper. 
 
 " February 9th. Read Symonds on the Expediency 
 of Revising the English Version of the Four Gospels. 
 N B. Wakefield has corrected, in his translation, every 
 error mentioned by Symonds." 
 
 From this time till the first of April, he was occupied 
 \vith Priestley s History of the Corruptions of Chris 
 tianity, "the Monthly Review, and Horsely s Charges 
 against Priestley. He appears to have studied the con 
 troversy very thoroughly, and to have given the Trini- 
 
JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 243 
 
 tarian hypothesis a complete investigation. His re 
 marks upon it fill ten very closely written pages in 
 his commonplace book. 
 
 " April 1st and 2d. Read Fuller s Calvinism and Socin- 
 ianism Compared. It is an ingenious piece of argument, and 
 plausible in its principle. His arguments, however, are in 
 some measure drawn from inconsiderate expressions of So- 
 cjnian writers. Vid. Belsham s Answer to Wilberforce. But 
 it may be asked if the influence of Calvinistic doctrines should 
 be allowed to be as great as it has been represented. Is 
 not this influence rather an operation upon the passions 
 than on the understanding ? Is not the tendency of Calvin 
 ism that of substituting religious affections for virtuous ac 
 tions r Does not the whole scope of Fuller s reasoning go 
 to prove that there can be no good men except Calvinists ? 
 
 " Read Farmer s Inquiry into the Temptation of Christ. 
 I read a sermon of Massillon s in French every night, be 
 fore going to bed. One or two chapters in the Greek Testa 
 ment in the morning. 
 
 " The only difficulty in Farmer s scheme of the Tempta 
 tion is to account for Christ s being tempted with what he 
 knew to be a mere vision. 
 
 " April 10th. Read, Urquhart s Commentaries on Clas 
 sical Learning. Light, graceful, entertaining. A pleasant 
 lady s book ! 
 
 " April 26th. Third volume of Priestley s History of 
 the Christian Church. It is evenings work. Cursory. Un 
 worthy of Priestley. 
 
 " April 21th, 28//I, 29th. Bishop of London s Lectures 
 on the Gospel of St. Matthew. It is impossible to commend 
 this work too highly. It is plain, popular, convincing ; pure 
 and even elegant in language; eloquent in its appeals to 
 the understanding and to the heart. It should belong to 
 the family of every Christian. 
 
244 JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 
 
 " May 1st. Read Farmer on the Worship of Human 
 Spirits. 
 
 " May 1th Michaelis on the Introduction to the Epistle 
 to the Hebrews. Read carefully the Epistle to the Hebrews 
 in Wakefield s translation, comparing it with our own and 
 with the original. 
 
 " In the course of the last week, read Bishop Hoadley 
 on the Sacrament. 
 
 " May 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th. Read Hopton Hayne s 
 Scripture Account, pp. 336, 8vo. 
 
 " May 22d, 23d, 24th. Heron s Junius. American 
 edition. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 
 " May 26th, 21th. Taylor s Scripture Doctrine of Orig 
 inal Sin, with Supplement, pp. 500. 
 
 " May 28th. Read Bishop Law s Life and Character 
 of Christ, pp. 142. 
 
 " At my father s request, read, for the second time, Ed 
 wards on Original Sin. 
 
 " July 3d. Began Jamieson s Vindication, pp. 567. 
 [Here follow some pages of remarks.] Jamieson s Proofs 
 from Scripture contain little new. 
 
 " July 10th. Finished Paley s Natural Philosophy. 
 
 " July 18th. Read Fellows s Picture of Christian Phi 
 losophy. 
 
 " August 1st. Read Marsh s Dissertation for the second 
 time. 
 
 " August 10/.A. A Series of Plays on the Passions, by 
 Miss Baillie. 
 
 " August 15/A to 2Qth. Dugald Stewart s Elements of 
 the Philosophy of the Human Mind. This is the work of 
 a truly original thinker. The chapters on Association, 
 Memory, and Imagination, may be repeatedly perused with 
 new pleasure and increasing profit. The most bigoted dog 
 matist cannot be offended. Except a new theory of con 
 ception, I find no innovation upon Reid s theory. 
 
JOUKNAL OF STUDIES. 245 
 
 " August 21th. Began to read Archbishop Wake s Apos 
 tolic Fathers. The only pieces in this collection whose 
 authority is undoubted are Clement s First Epistle to the 
 Corinthians and Polycarp s Second to Philippians. [Mere 
 follow several pages of remarks upon these epistles, with 
 Greek quotations.] 
 
 " October. Read Priestley s Controversy with Rev. Dr. 
 Linn, [of Philadelphia.] Has not Linn the decided supe 
 riority in the argument ? 
 
 " November. Wakefield s Inquiry, &c., pp. 35. [Here 
 follow remarks which are omitted.] Read Bell on the Sac 
 rament, pp. 204. Supplement, pp. 47. 
 
 " From Dibdin s Introduction to a Knowledge of Editions 
 of the Classics, made out a list of classical authors to be 
 procured." 
 
 Here intervenes an illness of some weeks, during 
 which he writes, " I have indulged myself in various 
 and desultory reading, during the horaz subsecivw of 
 convalescence." 
 
 "Read Benson on Unity of Sense; compared him with 
 Michaelis on Quotations from the Old Testament. [Here 
 follow remarks which are omitted.] 
 
 " January, 1805. Read Toulmin s Life of Faustus Socin- 
 ius, pp. 471, 8vo. It is one of the most hasty and meagre 
 compilations I ever read. The facts in the Life of Socinius 
 are few, and the volume is swelled with long extracts from 
 his works. He was an Italian, born in Sienna, 1539. It 
 is probable that the sentiments of his uncle Lcelius had 
 more influence on the mind of Faustus, in forming his opin 
 ions, than Toulmin is willing to admit. It appears that 
 Faustus paid no attention to theological inquiries till he 
 had attained the age of thirty years, so that, for his opin 
 ions, we must probably look to his uncle. Neither can we 
 21* 
 
246 JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 
 
 discover that his mind passed through any of those suc 
 cessive revolutions of opinion, which have marked, and 
 must mark, the intellectual history of eminent men. He 
 does not appear to have digested his peculiar creed with 
 any great method or accuracy, and his sentiments are 
 frequently inconsistent, and sometimes obscure. 
 
 " Disney s Life of Jortin is still more meagre and unin 
 teresting. 
 
 " Teignmouth s Life of Sir William Jones. Lord Teign- 
 mouth insinuates that Sir William believed the Divinity of 
 Jesus Christ according to the articles of the Church of Eng 
 land, of which nothing he has quoted affords conclusive evi 
 dence ; and also the common doctrine of atonement, of 
 which there is not one word in all Sir William ever wrote. 
 But he grounds his assertion on this clause in one of his 
 prayers, the mercy of God through Jesus Christ. 
 
 " Read Rotherham on Faith. 1 am exceedingly dis 
 appointed in this essay. It was written to counteract the 
 enthusiasm of the Methodists. It is a good antidote against 
 Antinomianism, but removes few of the difficulties respect 
 ing the meaning of the word faith. I have learned, by 
 repeated disappointments, not to form too high expectations 
 of a work which I have heard often commended and seen 
 often quoted. 
 
 " Read Sallust s Catiline and Jugurtha in Hunter s edi 
 tion. I have lately read Xenophon again. Also Gilbert 
 Wakefield s Life. 
 
 " Read- L*ocke s Vindication of the Reasonableness of 
 Christianity ; and his Conduct of the Understanding, and 
 Letters to Molineux. Mr. Locke often seems anxious to ex 
 press to some friend, in person, the result of his inquiries. 
 O that his conferences with Molineux, when he came to 
 England, could have been recorded ! Should we not have 
 learned more of the doctrine of association and of nice 
 points in theology ? 
 
JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 247 
 
 " June. Finished Lowth on Sacred Poetry, comparing 
 with Michaelis. 
 
 " September. President Nott preached in Brattle Street. 
 The fullest audience ever known there except on ordination 
 day. Epigram made on him by Josiah Quincy : 
 
 Delight and instruction have people, I wot, 
 Who in seeing, not see, and in hearing, hear not. 
 
 " Burnet, De Fide et Officiis. Pleasant and catholic. It 
 might be of use if translated into English. 
 
 " Read Le Clerc s Ars Critica. What a wonderful 
 man was Le Clerc ! Learned, to an extent almost un 
 equalled by any who have succeeded him ; liberal, per 
 haps to a fault ; perspicuous and pleasant in his critical 
 works ; the worthy successor of Grotius ; the contem 
 porary of Bayle ; and the model of the Jortins and Lowths 
 and Warburtons, who have since admired and imitated him. 
 What might not have been expected from him, had he en 
 joyed the light thrown upon criticism and theology since 
 his death ! Read, also, Le Clerc s five Letters on Inspiration, 
 pp. 237. 
 
 " Read G. Sharp s book on the Greek Article. His first 
 rule, which is the only important one, is, that when two 
 nouns of personal description follow one another, the first 
 of which has the article, and the second not, and they are 
 connected with a copulative, they both refer to the same 
 subject. The most important passage, which would be 
 affected by this rule, is in Titus* ii. 13, which he would 
 render. appearance of Jesus Christ, the great God and 
 Saviour. But the exceptions are so numerous that the 
 rule is almost useless, arid thus instances contradicting it 
 are found without difficulty. Gregory Blunt s Six Letters 
 are hardly a satisfactory reply, because he argues rather 
 from the nature of the thing than from a critical inquiry 
 into the use of the Greek article. Wistanley s vindication 
 
248 PROPOSAL OF A VOYAGE. 
 
 of our common version in the texts in question, is, to my 
 mind, decisive, though he is exceedingly biased in some of 
 his remarks by his Arian system. 
 
 " October 1st. Morgan s Collection of Tracts, occasioned 
 by the Trinitarian Controversy. London, 1726. Read 
 Maury s Eloge de St. Augustin et de Fenelon. What can 
 exceed the onction of the latter saint-like man and writer ? 
 The life of Augustin is a true extravaganza." 
 
 During the whole lime of this journal, he was study 
 ing Hebrew and translating Greek, beside writing his 
 earliest sermons. 
 
 Actively engaged as my brother had been in the year 
 since his settlement, his health had by no means im 
 proved. The attacks of his malady had so far increased, 
 that, as appears from a record which he kept among his 
 private papers, they had been nearly double the number of 
 the preceding year. In the spring of 1806, his intimate 
 friends, among whom was an eminent physician, the 
 elder Dr. Warren, advised relaxation, a total suspension 
 of study, and a voyage to Europe. In his letter to his 
 parish, requesting leave of absence, he says, u It would 
 be superfluous for me to dwell upon the painful senti 
 ments with which I suggest the idea of this temporary 
 separation, for our mutual attachment to each other is 
 too great to need any assurance of this kind." 
 
 The proposal, as did every thing which had a near or 
 remote tendency to improve his health and alleviate his 
 cares, met with the prompt and generous acquiescence 
 of the Brattle Street society. 
 
 His father consented with reluctance to this sepa 
 ration. In his letter, in answer to the one informing 
 him of the generous acquiescence of the parish, he says, 
 u I shall deeply regret that you should be so long 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 249 
 
 absent, perhaps, to me, for ever absent, but my 
 principle has always been to sacrifice my wishes to the 
 interests of my children." His father was at this time 
 suffering from deep depression, augmented by many 
 causes besides the recent death of his second wife. 
 At the times of his depression, he was always discour 
 aged respecting the state of religion in his parish, the 
 little good that he had been able to effect, and a general 
 fear of unfaithfulness. At this time, he wrote to his son 
 in this desponding strain : 
 
 " My daughters are amiable ; they strive to make my 
 desolate home cheerful to me ; they try to surround their 
 broken-hearted father with many comforts, that he may for 
 get his inestimable loss ; but I have no evidence that they 
 are the subjects of grace, or that they belong to the new 
 covenant." 
 
 In conformity with Dr. Buckminster s theory of re 
 ligion, he could not regard his children with entire ap 
 probation, because Calvinism makes no appeal to the 
 sentiment of duty ; nature and grace are opposed. 
 That which he could approve was not any amiable dis 
 position, strengthened by effort, but something superin 
 duced ; he must have regarded them, therefore, rather 
 with tenderness and pity than with respectful approbation. 
 
 It cannot be denied, also, that one cause of the 
 father s depression was his disappointment in his son s 
 views of religion, and the general prevalence of liberal 
 interpretations of Christianity. This, in him, was not 
 the result of bigotry. To him, a sincere Calvinist, 
 his own interpretation of the meaning of Christ and 
 the apostles was vital to the peace of his heart. It 
 was the life s breath of his religion, the aliment of his 
 
250 LETTER OF DR. BUCKMIJNfSTER. 
 
 devotion, the only sure support of bis hopes of the fu 
 ture bliss of heaven. He could not hut acknowledge 
 that his son s life was exemplary ; that his preaching had 
 not only been admired, but attended with eminent suc 
 cess ; that his example had been alluring to the young to 
 induce them to lead a religious life ; and yet he felt that 
 the foundation of all this was false and insecure. 
 
 When the voyage was finally determined upon, he 
 wrote to his son in a more encouraging and cheerful 
 strain. 
 
 May 6, 18G6. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, I have hoped that I should be able 
 to see you again before you sailed ; and when Mr. Lowell 
 came in last evening, the hope brightened again ; but I have 
 so much of a cold, in consequence of exposures, by which 
 my habitual cough is much increased, that I am persuaded 
 it is imprudent to think of going again to Boston, even 
 though so many disappointments are the consequence of my 
 remaining at home. 
 
 " Your voyage is fixed and determined upon, and, as far 
 as I can judge, upon those principles and with those views 
 by which we must be governed in the present state. You 
 may, therefore, I conceive, consider it a matter of duty, and 
 have nothing else to do but to undertake it with firmness 
 and religious confidence, and pursue it with a constant reli 
 ance upon Divine Providence for support, protection, and re 
 straint. And we, who are left bereaved, have nothing to do 
 but to acquiesce, to follow you with our best wishes and 
 prayers, and to look and long for the time of your return. 
 You will be in new situations, and new scenes will be 
 continually opening to your view ; I hope you will en 
 deavour to be always self-possessed, and under the com 
 manding influence of reason and religion, and let neither 
 your fears nor your joys transport you. You have proba- 
 
LETTER OF DR. BUCKM1NSTER. 251 
 
 bly often heard me mention a resolution of your own dear 
 mothers, early formed, and steadily adhered to, never to let 
 her passions so far get the ascendency as to disqualify her 
 for acting, or hurry her to resolutions or conduct which her 
 reason and her conscience would not afterwards approve. 
 
 " If you should be tolerably well on shipboard, and have 
 pleasant weather, I hope you will find yourself disposed to 
 serve, and your shipmates desirous and willing to regard you, 
 as the regular chaplain to the ship ; and while the master is 
 taking his observation of the material heavens, the minister 
 on board will be daily endeavouring to help him, and all 
 others, to take observation of the heavens that are higher 
 than they ; and that your track through the ocean, instead of 
 being marked with profanity, will be distinguished from 
 others by prayer and praises to God. If you should meet 
 with storms and tempests, you will remember who holdeth 
 the winds in his fists, and who is able to say, Peace, be 
 still. Let not the admonition, that was once addressed to a 
 sleeping prophet, be ever addressed to you. 
 
 " When you get to the lands of science, of wealth, and 
 of wondeiful improvement in the arts, and see great men, 
 and witness great events, I hope you will not forget that the 
 most wonderful character that was ever on the earth is the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, and that the knowledge of him is true 
 science, and love and obedience to him true wisdom, and 
 that if any man would become truly wise, he must become 
 a fool in the estimation of the men of the world. 
 
 " To say that I am not anxious about you, my son, would 
 be to belie the father and his feelings ; but I am able, in all 
 humility, to commit you to that God to whom I early gave 
 you, who has always watched over you, and who, I trust, 
 will still keep you. To him may you yet be made a faith 
 ful son and servant. The last prayer of a father is, may 
 the voyage establish your health, improve your mind, in 
 crease your piety, perfect you in the love of God, and in 
 
252 DEPARTURE FOR EUROPE. 
 
 due lime restore you to your friends and duties, in the ful 
 ness of the blessing of the Gospel of Christ. 
 
 " Your affectionate father." 
 
 " May 6th, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER, The time approaches when I must 
 bid adieu to much that I fervently love. It is one of the 
 severest trials that I ever experienced, and that was not a 
 small part of it which I endured at Portsmouth. I am 
 sometimes tempted to hope that you will not come up be 
 fore I go." 
 
 A few days after : 
 
 " Tuesday morning. By God s help I have gone through 
 the most painful circumstances attending my departure, that 
 is, the exercises on the Sabbath. I preached all day, and 
 was very much disappointed that Mr. Lowell did not return. 
 
 " I am waiting with anxiety, expecting every moment a 
 summons to go on board ; but if the wind gets round to the 
 eastward, I shall have another day of pain in taking leave. 
 Indeed, my dear sir, all the trials of my life have borne no 
 kind of proportion to the anguish of this departure, for I 
 have been overwhelmed with kindness and affection. A 
 whole life of devotion can hardly repay it. 
 
 " I am afraid I shall not be able to hear how your cold is. 
 Your letter did not alarm me much, though, upon reflection, 
 I have been afraid that your cough is more serious. The 
 Sally will sail in ten days for Liverpool, when you must 
 not fail to write me particularly. My love to my dear sis 
 ters. God in his mercy for ever bless them ! They shall 
 have a line by the return of the pilot-boat. 
 
 " Your dear son." 
 
 During my brother s absence, his salary was continued, 
 and he bore the expense of supplying the pulpit. Un 
 der this liberal arrangement, a committee was appointed 
 
DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 253 
 
 to engage the preachers, and his father went five times 
 to Boston to preach for his son. It was so arranged 
 that he usually administered the communion. At such 
 times, he visited those of the parish who were ill, or 
 who desired ministerial visits. To show that his letters 
 were not always filled with serious admonitions, one is 
 here introduced, written when he visited Boston the first 
 time after his son s absence : 
 
 " Boston, June 2, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON, Among the flood of letters which you 
 will receive by the hand of Mr. Thacher, and the happiness 
 you will experience in unexpectedly finding him so soon 
 after you, it will be gratifying to you to have a line from 
 your father, who, more than any man living, naturally cares 
 for your state, and whose comfort and earthly happiness 
 depend more naturally upon you than upon any other. I 
 intended to have written to you by the Sally, but the vessel 
 sailed before my return from Northampton, where I spent 
 the last Sabbath with my old college friend and companion, 
 Mr. Williams, whom I found exceedingly full of ministerial 
 duty, there being a very great attention to religion among his 
 young people. I returned to Boston the morning of election- 
 day, and entered into the hubbub and excitement of election 
 and convention. Mr. Shepherd, the preacher on election- 
 day, is a man of talents and of piety ; but it was so late be 
 fore the jangling and wrangling court* could get prepared 
 to go to the meeting-house, that many of the audience thought 
 his sermon too long. Dr. Lyman, of Hatfield, preached the 
 convention sermon in your desk, and delivered a concio ad 
 clerum with his usual independence, animation, and zeal ; 
 and, though it contained some sentiments a little different 
 
 * This was after a bitterly contested election between Gov. Strong 
 and Gov. Sullivan. 
 
 22 
 
254 DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 
 
 from those which have lately been heard there, I think they 
 are not different from what may yet be there heard again 
 
 " Sabbath evening. I have been all this day in your pul 
 pit, attempting to preach to your people. Having left my 
 gown at home, Deacon Thacher furnished me with his 
 father s ; but alas ! it did not make me the popular and be 
 loved preacher that he was. Some old ladies looked very 
 hard at the gown, but heard not the voice so wonderfully 
 sweet. I introduced into the church those persons who 
 were propounded before you went, and propounded two 
 others. The two Governors, Strong and Sullivan, were at 
 the communion-table. I could not but think how they felt 
 towards each other. I dined at Deacon Storer s, in company 
 
 with , and preached this afternoon upon the wisdom 
 
 and goodness of Providence in all its dispensations. 
 
 " I hope, my dear son, you will take due precaution, in 
 your journeying, that you do not expose, yourself to acci 
 dents. You will not travel, I trust, without a companion, 
 nor without a servant. I hope you will read and study very 
 little, and pray much. Many new temptations will assail 
 you. Let your heart be established by grace and the fear 
 and love of God. Trust not in any creature, however ex 
 alted, but trust in the living God. My dearest son, to God I 
 commend you, and with him I leave you. 
 
 " J. BUCKMINSTER. " 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 JOURNAL OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER IN LONDON. JOURNAL AND 
 
 LETTERS UPON THE CONTINENT. 
 
 1S06-7. MR. BUCKMINSTER embarked in the packet- 
 Aged 23. s hip J h n Adams, about the 10th of May, for 
 Liverpool, where he arrived June 6th, and from thence 
 travelled by post-horses to London, where he was re 
 ceived at the house of Samuel Williams, Esq., the broth 
 er of his excellent friends, the Lymans. There he again 
 met his early friend, Mr. Francis Williams, and his resi 
 dence was made delightful by every attention that refined 
 hospitality and sincere attachment could bestow. Early 
 in August, he was joined by his intimate friend, Rev. 
 Samuel C. Thacher, and together they embarked for 
 the continent, and landed at Harlingen, on the Zuyder 
 Zee. They passed rapidly through Holland and a part 
 of Belgium, ascended the Rhine, and, partly on foot, 
 made a tour of Switzerland. Joseph kept a very full 
 journal of this journey upon the continent, of which a 
 small part has been published in a letter to a friend, de 
 scribing the fall of part of the Rossburg mountain in 
 Switzerland. They were often put to inconvenience in 
 this tour by meeting with Bonaparte s new-made kings, 
 also on their travels, who usually monopolized all the 
 post-horses, and made humble travellers wait. Readers 
 
256 JOURNAL IN LONDOiN. 
 
 have been so completely satiated with travels in Hol 
 land and Switzerland, that no extracts from the jour 
 nal in those countries will be introduced here. It may 
 be remarked, that the description of the fall of the Ross- 
 burg * is a fair specimen of its merits. 
 
 As soon as he arrived in London, he found himself in 
 the midst of a delightful circle of friends. A short ex 
 tract from his journal while there will give some idea of 
 the enchantment of this society to a young man of 
 twenty-three. 
 
 " Tuesday, June 26th. Dined with Dr. Rees, editor of 
 the Encyclopedia. Introduced to Dr. Aiken and his son 
 Charles. To Mr. Jones, the author of a Greek grammar. 
 At the dinner there was a truly pleasant and instructive con 
 versation. It turned upon the evidences of a future state 
 from the light of nature. Dr. Rees is a man of amiable 
 manners, various learning, some anecdote, and talents more 
 than common. 
 
 u Thursday, %8th. Breakfasted with Mr. Jones. We had 
 a truly learned and delightful conversation. Mr. -Jones had 
 studied with Gilbert Wakefield. 
 
 " Monday, July 2d. Went to the British Museum at 
 twelve o clock. Dined at Mr. William Vaughan s, in com 
 pany with Granville Sharp, Dr. Aiken and Charles, Mr. 
 Ellis, a writer in the Edinburgh Review. G. S. fully be 
 lieves in the agency of a personal devil in the vices of man 
 kind. 
 
 " Tuesday. Dined at Dr. Rees s, with Mr. Belsham, Mr. 
 Tooke, Mr. William Taylor of Norwich. Conversation de 
 lightful. The tone is certainly higher than with us. 
 
 " Wednesday. At Mr. William Vaughan s, with a learned 
 party. 
 
 * Published first in the Anthology. It also makes a part of J. S. 
 BucKininster s Works, first collected in 1839. 
 
JOURNAL IN LONDON. 257 
 
 " Thursday. Breakfasted at Sir Joseph Banks s. Intro 
 duced to Sir Charles Blagden, and Mr. William Smith, 
 President of the Linnoean Society. Dined with Mr. Jones. 
 Introduced to Dr. Young, of the Scots Church. 
 
 " Saturday. Dined at Hackney, with Mr. Belsham. 
 
 " Sunday. Attended church at the Foundling Hospital. 
 
 " Monday. Dined at the Rev. Mr. Jervis s, Gray s Inn 
 Square, with a large party. Supped at Gilbert Wakefield s, 
 with only his daughter present. 
 
 " Tuesday. Dined at Sir Joseph Banks s in the country. 
 Present, Sir Charles Blagden, Mr. Dalrymple, author of a 
 Collection of Voyages, Mr. William Smyth, by favor of 
 a ticket from whom, I went to the House of Commons in 
 the evening. Subject : American Intercourse bill. Mr. 
 Grant, Master of the Rolls, spoke against it. Lord Henry 
 Petty in explanation. Next day, I was introduced to Lord 
 Henry Petty at Mr. Vaughan s, and to Mr. Planta, Librarian 
 of the British Museum. 
 
 " Thursday. Dined at Mr. Grant s, Master of the Rolls. 
 
 " July 8th. Called on Mr,.. Wilberforce, by appointment, 
 and found him at dinner. As I was engaged to dine, I ac 
 cepted an invitation for another day." 
 
 A month was passed in this delightful manner in Lon 
 don, and he had invitations from a constantly increasing 
 circle of literary persons for another month. But an 
 attack of his complaint warned him that he must com 
 plete his tour in Switzerland before cold weather, and 
 he and his friend, Mr. Thacher, tore themselves away 
 from the fascination of London society. 
 
 From Switzerland the friends directed their course to 
 Paris, where their residence was protracted to more 
 than five months, while nearly all correspondence with 
 England was cut off by the operation of the Berlin and 
 
 22* 
 
258 RESIDENCE IN PARIS. 
 
 Milan decrees. At the same time, there was no direct 
 communication with the United States from France. 
 The enchantments of Paris failed in some degree of their 
 influence upon my brother. Even where the treasures 
 of the whole continent were collected, he could not be 
 entirely contented, because the objects that would most 
 conduce to the great purpose of his life were not there. 
 He measured every thing, not by the relations of pleas 
 ure, but of duty, and dwelt 
 
 " As ever in the great Taskmaster s eye." 
 
 He kept no journal of his residence in Paris, but 
 merely wrote with a pencil, in a common pocket-book, 
 descriptions of some of the interesting persons with 
 whom he became acquainted. These are nearly ef 
 faced ; the names of Madame de Stael, Benjamin Con 
 stant, Count Rumford, only give rise to regret that the 
 remarks of so young and fresh an observer upon persons 
 now consecrated for ever to fame should be lost. He 
 witnessed two very interesting events in Paris. At the 
 sitting of the great Jewish Sanhedrim, convened by Na 
 poleon, in the winter of 1806-7, he was present, and 
 took notes. He was also present at the reception of 
 Cardinal Maury at the Institute. It was to have been a 
 grand public reception, but the Cardinal insisted upon 
 being addressed by the title of Monsigneur, which he 
 conceived he had a right to demand, but which his col 
 leagues of the Institute were not disposed to grant. 
 The dispute was submitted to the Emperor, who post 
 poned the public reception. It was therefore private, 
 but not the less interesting. 
 
 These five months in Paris, amid the unappreciable 
 and inexhaustible treasures of Europe and of the fine 
 
RESIDENCE IN PARIS. 259 
 
 arts at this time collected and stored there by Bona 
 parte, must have been most rich in instruction. Prob 
 ably the strict surveillance exercised over foreigners, 
 especially those so much resembling Englishmen, was 
 the reason that no journal or record was kept of his resi 
 dence in Paris. Much of his time was spent in collect 
 ing and sending to America a valuable library of the 
 choicest writers in theological, classical, and general lit 
 erature, amounting to about three thousand volumes. 
 For this purpose he spent nearly the whole of his little 
 maternal fortune, saying to himself, " Thou hast goods 
 laid up for many years." This exulting remark is 
 immediately followed by the reflection, " Although 
 I may, by the Providence of God, be cut off from the 
 enjoyment of these luxuries of the mind, they will be a 
 treasure to those who may succeed me, like the hoards 
 of a miser scattered after his death. I feel that, by 
 every book which I send out, I do something for my 
 dear country, which the love of money seems to be de 
 pressing into unlettered barbarism." 
 
 It must be remembered that this was written forty 
 years ago ; and perhaps remarks like the above, and the 
 energies of his young mind directed to this purpose, did 
 something towards awakening the love of literature, 
 which has since gone hand in hand with the love of 
 money, in that part of the State which claimed his fond 
 est affection. 
 
 Since the days of this visit to the old world, the pub 
 lic has become so familiar with the objects of interest 
 that claimed his attention, that great reluctance has been 
 felt to make such selections from his letters as will con 
 tinue the thread of the narrative. Had they been pub 
 lished at the time they were written, when England and 
 
260 IMPRESSIONS OF SEA LIFE. 
 
 France were comparatively new to travellers from the 
 United States, they would have possessed an interest 
 from the freshness of remark everywhere exhibited. As 
 the reflection has been constantly forced upon me, that 
 the places and objects of art have become familiar to us, 
 and that the persons with whom he became acquainted, 
 however celebrated then, have faded from the memory 
 of the present, I have erased page after page of letters 
 that I had copied, and have retained only those that ex 
 hibit the mind and feelings of the writer ; so that, if an 
 interest has been awakened in him, they may, by their 
 personality, impart more freshness to this memoir of his 
 life. 
 
 We go back to his arrival in Liverpool, and begin 
 with his first letter. To his father : 
 
 " Liverpool, June 6th, 18C6. 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER, Every thing seems to have con 
 spired, under the blessing of God, to make our passage 
 pleasant, safe, and quick. I have now been a few hours in 
 Liverpool, and find that a vessel sails early to-morrow 
 morning for Boston. These few lines will tell you that we 
 have had a passage of twenty-three days ; that 1 have hard 
 ly known any of the dangers or trials of the sea. I cannot 
 find a single subject of complaint in any of the circumstances 
 of this voyage. The order of the ship was surprising, and 
 far beyond what I had anticipated. I have not heard more 
 than three instances of profane language op board, which I 
 could not have said if I had remained in Boston. We had 
 religious services on every Sabbath ; once, I read printed 
 sermons, and the other days my own. The shortness of 
 the passage will hardly allow me to form any opinion of its 
 probable effect on my health. But, whether it should be 
 favorable or useless, or even unfavorable, I shall submit, I 
 hope, with resignation, satisfied that the step I have taken 
 was the dictate of duty. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 261 
 
 " I cannot be sufficiently grateful to the kind and protect 
 ing Providence of God, which has made my voyage so 
 pleasant, so safe, and so short. I shall have company up to 
 London, where I shall go in a few days, by the way of 
 Manchester. My love to my dear sisters and all friends. 
 God grant that I may never again be obliged to undergo the 
 dreadful pain of parting from them ! " 
 
 He writes the same day to his sisters : 
 
 " Within the last hour, I put my foot on the wharf at Liv 
 erpool, after a passage of twenty-three days from Boston. 
 I have very few wonders, or i moving accidents by flood, to 
 recount ; but the trifling varieties of my voyage will not, I 
 am confident, be more interesting to any person in my dear 
 native land than to you, my beloved sisters, who have so 
 often listened, with concern and pleasure, to the narrative of 
 your dear brother s fortunes when at home ; and I am sure 
 the eagerness with which you will receive this letter, com 
 pared with the eagerness with which you have formerly 
 opened my letters, will be increased quite in proportion to 
 the distance. During the voyage, I gazed frequently, think 
 ing of you, my beloved sisters, with silent wonder and de 
 light, at the sun, quenching his fiery beams as he sank in the 
 waves of the western ocean, and enjoyed the thought that 
 to you, in Portsmouth, he had not yet disappeared ; but that 
 you would be blessed, this day, with several hours more of 
 sunshine, (may it be also that of the heart,) after your 
 brother had retired to rest 
 
 " Nothing alarming or wonderful occurred during the re 
 mainder of our voyage. We have taken excellent lodgings 
 at the Star and Garter, in Liverpool. The gentlemen to 
 whom I have had letters of introduction have treated me 
 with every possible civility. The Rev. Mr. Yates, a dissent 
 ing minister, in Liverpool, to whom I delivered my first let 
 ter, asked me to dine with him the next day, (Sunday,) and 
 
262 LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 
 
 urged me much to preach for him ; but I declined. In the 
 evening, I walked out with his son, and took tea at his son s 
 little, elegant cottage, about a mile from the town ; returned 
 about nine o clock, and supped with the Rev. Mr. Yates and 
 a few friends, to some of whom I had letters of introduction. 
 
 " June 13th. The ladies in Liverpool dress much, and 
 are rather fond of being gazed at. You would be aston 
 ished to find how stout and robust are the English women. 
 I have hardly seen ten slender forms ; though the defect is 
 amply compensated by the heakhiness of their complexions, 
 and the native glow of their cheeks. But a young lady in 
 Mrs. N. s boarding-school, if she found herself as gross as 
 the most fashionable Liverpool belles, would be unhappy 
 from morning to night. Another circumstance, which forci 
 bly strikes an American, is, the prodigious number of women 
 of the lower order who fill the streets, so that you contin 
 ually see three women at least to one man. Their appear 
 ance is the most direful you can imagine. They perform 
 labor of the heaviest and dirtiest kind, such as would soon 
 kill an American woman. But, my dearest sisters, I must 
 finish this letter, for it is time to set off for Manchester, on 
 my way to London. Mr. Williams writes that he is expect 
 ing me, and has prepared rooms for my use in his house, 
 No. 13, Finsbury Square. I shall spend to-morrow and 
 next day in Manchester, and reach London, I hope, before 
 the 19th, as I must appear at the Alien Office by that day. 
 
 " When I am a little more collected, I hope I shall write 
 to you a better and longer letter. God blesp you, my dear 
 sisters, and train you up for both worlds. Write me very 
 particularly and unreservedly about papa s health. 
 
 " Your affectionate brother." 
 
 To Mrs. Lyman : 
 
 " Manchester, June 14, 180G. 
 
 u MY DEAR MADAM, I cannot let the first impressions, 
 which I received upon visiting this delightful country, wear 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 263 
 
 away without communicating them to you, who feel an in 
 terest in the improvement and ornamental cultivation of the 
 soil of New England. In driving from Liverpool to Man 
 chester, where I shall remain as little time as possible, for 
 Manchester is the region of volcanoes, and as smoky as the 
 work-shop of Vulcan, I was exclaiming, at every rod of 
 ground I passed over, What an exquisite country ! what de 
 lightful openings ! what rich fields ! what tasteful clumps ! 
 what velvet lawns ! what luxuriant vegetation ! And yet 
 this is the least ornamented part of England. 
 
 -July Ilth. Thus far I wrote in Manchester, not sus 
 pecting that I should not take up my pen again till I reached 
 London. And now, in the smoke and dust of this astonishing 
 city, I bid adieu (I cannot say a reluctant adieu) to the 
 most charming country on the face of the earth ; for I must 
 yet acknowledge, although with some shame, that the liter 
 ary luxury of the city has more charms for me than even 
 the park at Blenheim, adorned as it is with the oaks of the 
 last century, and enlivened with the gambols of fifteen hun 
 dred deer. 
 
 " I stop to tell you that I have just received letters from 
 Boston. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart ; but 
 they have spoiled this day s sport ; I shall see nothing in 
 London to-day with any pleasure. Home, home will fill 
 my heart. Tell Mr. Lyman that he need be under no ap 
 prehension about my reading, for in truth I find not a 
 moment even to write a line of a journal, which I proposed 
 to keep, and hardly to repay the kindness of the friends 
 who have written to me. Mr. Thacher has arrived, in fine 
 health. I cannot express to you the addition which his 
 presence makes to the obligation under which I am laid 
 to my friends in Boston. 
 
 " Perhaps you will be amused with hearing of some of 
 my excursions. Well, then : last Tuesday, I went out with 
 Mr. William Vaughan to dine at Sir Joseph Banks s, who, you 
 
2G4 
 
 VISIT TO SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 
 
 know, has a great reputation all over the world for his 
 science and literary courtesy. Upon our arrival, we were 
 introduced into the garden, which serves for a drawing-room 
 in the summer. The first object that presented itself was 
 a tall woman, dressed in men s clothes. This proved to be 
 Lady Banks s sister. You will hardly credit me when I tell 
 you that she wore a man s hat, with a black plume, a cravat, 
 a shirt with a wide frill, a short huntsman s coat, wristbands 
 and sleeve-buttons visible, with no mark of her sex but a 
 short petticoat ; and this, I am told, is a fashionable riding 
 dress ! After waiting a little time, appeared Sir Joseph, 
 who has such an inveterate gout, that he moves with his 
 legs far apart, at the rate of about ten feet in ten minutes. 
 Last of all entered my lady, who is truly a moving moun 
 tain of flesh and blood ; and if ever Sir John Falstaff had 
 been allowed by Shakspeare to have taken a wife, this 
 would have been the cara sposa for him. There were 
 several other gentlemen at dinner. It is not etiquette for 
 the hostess to pay much attention to her company, and I, 
 who sat next to her, was abundantly employed in helping 
 
 her 
 
 " The gentlemen do not hand the ladies to the table. 
 They sit a reasonable time after the cloth is removed, and 
 presently we are summoned into the drawing-room, where 
 coffee is provided, of which it is the fashion to take one cup ; 
 tea is handed afterwards. But to return to Lady Banks : 
 her favorite passion is to collect china; and she has indeed 
 collected a superb variety of dishes, jars, pots, cups, sau 
 cers, bowls, ornaments, of all ages, colors, sizes, brilliancy, 
 value, and brittleness. A more capricious toy-shop I never 
 beheld, though I was obliged to keep a very grave face of 
 wonder and admiration, while she dissertated learnedly upon 
 the separate pieces, and looked at them for the thousandth 
 time, with all the enthusiasm with which a painter would 
 gaze at the Transfiguration. Sir Joseph has written a large 
 
RESIDENCE IN LONDON. 265 
 
 book upon the subject of his lady s china, containing disser 
 tations upon the antiquity of certain pieces connected with 
 the different epochs of china history. This book is intro 
 duced with a dedication to Lady Banks, and loaded with 
 the most fulsome address to the royal family, who once 
 honored my lady s china-room with a visit. Sir Joseph 
 cultivates the American cranberry with great success, and 
 his ponds are filled with our water-lilies. 
 
 " I need not say that I have every comfort at your 
 brother s. I am trying to persuade Francis to accompany 
 me to the continent 
 
 " But I must cease writing, or you will cease reading. 
 Farewell ! May God with his choicest blessings have you 
 and your family in his holy keeping ! 
 
 " Your dear friend, 
 
 14 J. S. B." 
 
 To his father : - 
 
 " London, June 23d, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, I rejoice to inform you that I arrived 
 safely the day before yesterday ; that I am agreeably ac- 
 comodated at Mr. Williams s, in Finsbury Square ; and al 
 though this is in the city, as it is called, and very remote 
 from that part of the town to which most of my letters are 
 directed, yet I much prefer the conveniences of this resi 
 dence to more fashionable lodgings at the west end. 
 
 "The expenses of travelling in this country are enor 
 mous. ^ 
 
 " This is intolerable to an American, but it is not to be 
 avoided. In this country, you must either pay money liber 
 ally, or you will be paid liberally in abuse. 
 
 14 Most of the persons to whom I have been introduced 
 in England are Dissenters, and, of course, Foxites in their 
 politics. Many of the most violent of them, however, be 
 gin to be uneasy at the tardiness with which Mr. Fox pro 
 ceeds in those measures of reform to which he has always 
 professed himself a friend. 
 23 
 
266 OCCUPATION IN LONDON. 
 
 " I attended meeting yesterday at the old Jewry, for 
 merly a very celebrated place of worship among the Dissent 
 ers, now very thinly attended. The forms of service re 
 minded me more of New England than any thing I have 
 yet seen in England. A chorister, who sat below the pul 
 pit, always set the tune ; and, so natural is it for an English 
 man to be a singer, that, really, I do not think there were 
 twenty in the congregation who did not join. The preacher 
 was Dr. Rees, a good, substantial old gentleman, with a dis 
 course an hour long. 
 
 " I have had some doubts about the propriety of visiting 
 the places of public amusement, but I have come at last 
 to the conclusion, that, in a place where my example can 
 not be of evil influence, and where it is no uncommon 
 thing for clergymen to be seen, that I should reproach 
 myself if I were to leave England without having observed 
 what constitutes so great a part of the national character. 
 
 " I should be happier if I had left no friends at home, 
 but the recollection of their kindness and my own happiness 
 with them, whenever it returns, causes me to feel more like 
 an exile than a traveller. I could never, I am persuaded, 
 have left my parish from any motive of curiosity or per 
 sonal gratification. My health, my health alone, which is 
 to you and me the most interesting subject, is in no worse 
 a state than when I left Boston. I hope in a few weeks 
 more I shall be able to speak with some confidence. Hither 
 to God has kept my feet from falling and my soul from 
 death. I have resisted all applications to preach. I wish 
 to feel more settled, and more acquainted with the preachers 
 and the auditories of this country, before I show myself 
 in the pulpit. 
 
 " July 8th. Since I wrote the above, I have had the 
 pleasure of dining with Mr. Wilberforce, or ralher of sitting 
 at his table while he was dining ; for, as I was previously en 
 gaged, I was unwilling to spoil my dinner. lie is very 
 
MR. WILBERFORCE. 267 
 
 much interested in the religious condition of the United 
 States, and extremely inquisitive as to the attention paid to 
 religious observances. I wish I could have given him a 
 more favorable account of the practical religion of my 
 dear native land, and have been able to say with confi 
 dence that our personal holiness was greater than in the 
 days of yore. God grant that I may never live to see New 
 England sunk in such religious indifference and public con 
 tempt for Christianity as prevails, I fear, in the parent 
 country. 
 
 " I am extremely obliged to E. for her kind letter from 
 Boston ; tell her that I sincerely hope the kindness she re 
 ceives there is paid as much to her intrinsic worth, as to 
 my memory ; but I am willing that some of it should be 
 shown to her on my account, because it will tend to keep 
 alive in her mind a more tender recollection of her broth 
 er. I have had the pleasure of seeing many young ladies 
 here, the daughters of clergymen and laymen ; but I have 
 seen none who have not taught me to love and esteem 
 my sisters more than ever. I have seen a daughter of 
 G. Wakcfield, who knows more Greek and Latin than any 
 woman in England, and is now about to be married ; Lucy 
 Aiken, daughter of Dr. Aiken, a young lady of remarkable 
 talents and accomplishments ; and many others, some of 
 whom are connoisseurs in painting, and some in music. 
 My next letter to my sisters may be from the midst of the 
 luxury of Paris or the simplicity of Switzerland. Love to 
 all the little ones. What can I procure for them here which 
 may be a pleasure or a profit, and remind them of their 
 dear brother ? 
 
 " I am just informed that no captain will venture to take 
 us over to Rotterdam, and therefore we must take passage 
 in a vile Dutch vessel for Harlingen, because the French 
 officers there will let us pass for a small fee. This Dutch 
 hoy is built much like a butter-boat, and called the Two 
 
268 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Sisters. My present plan is to proceed to Switzerland 
 so as to travel on foot through that mountain region before 
 September, when it will be too cold. From Geneva we 
 propose to cross the country to Schaffhausen, and thus to 
 come down the Rhine. However, 1 may be obliged to 
 deviate from this route by a thousand unforeseen circum 
 stances. 
 
 " The inclosed letter to my sisters is written chiefly 
 for their entertainment. O, that they may reap half the 
 delight from it that I have from reading the letters I have 
 this morning received from my friends in America, among 
 whom, you at Portsmouth are the dearest, therefore let your 
 letters be the longest. As cool waters, etc. Do not be 
 too much grieved, my dear friends, to hear that I have had 
 an ill turn in London ; it was slight, very slight, and after 
 a long interval. I have hopes, great hopes. The hand of 
 Providence seems to have arranged with wonderful favor 
 all the past circumstances of my voyage, and of my situa 
 tion here, and the measure of God s favor is filled by the 
 arrival of my friend Thacher this morning. My last words 
 are, write, write, quocunque modo, write. 
 
 " Your dear son, 
 
 J. S. B." 
 
 " Rotterdam, Aug. llth, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR SISTERS, Here I am at last, with leisure 
 enough to sit down and give you a very few notices of my 
 tour to this place. There is nothing in this city but mer 
 chants, and boats, and canals ; and after having seen one 
 city in Holland, you have seen all. The streets, even in 
 these most thronged quarters, are washed and scrubbed 
 every day, so that you might without much inconvenience 
 absolutely dine off the pavement. 
 
 " The houses are all joined to one another, and all is 
 neatness, ornament, stillness, and singularity. But though 
 
PASSAGE TO HOLLAND. 269 
 
 I am now so comfortably seated at a writing-table, in an inn 
 called the Marshal Turenne, the hardships and vexations, 
 the inconvenience and imposition, which I have passed 
 through since I left London, as much exceed all that I have 
 have ever suffered before, as the accommodations of a well- 
 regulated family exceed the irregularity of a dirty Dutch 
 hot/. After passing through all the vexatious delays of the 
 alien office in London, in order to obtain passports for leav 
 ing the kingdom, as there is no regular mode of communica 
 tion with the continent, I engaged with a Dutch captain to 
 take four of us over to Harlingen, for which we paid him 
 ten guineas apiece ; and after going on board, we had each 
 to pay two guineas more, in order to persuade him to drop 
 down the river Thames to Chatham that night, so that we 
 might be able to sail in the morning. When we reached 
 the vessel, we found five passengers besides ourselves, with 
 not the shadow of accommodation for sleeping, except two 
 dirty narrow births already occupied by a gentleman and 
 his wife. Accordingly, we took our lodgings in the hold, 
 where not one of us could stand upright ; and after three 
 days and nights of sea-sickness, during which time none 
 of us had our clothes off, we reached Harlingen. If you 
 will look upon the map, you will see that, in order to reach 
 Amsterdam from thence, we have to cross a large sea, called 
 Zuyder Zee ; so, after a night s rest, we took places at four 
 o clock the next morning in the daily packet for Amster 
 dam. The usual length of a passage is twelve hours, but 
 after creeping along the whole day till dark, we found that 
 we had not accomplished half our voyage, but that we must 
 remain all night on board this little vessel, crowded with 
 more than fifty passengers, not a word of whose rough 
 guttural gibberish could we understand. 
 
 " Here, after all our hardships, I found, that, in order to 
 shelter ourselves from the rain, we must retreat to the hold 
 of the vessel, in which they usually carry cows. Indeed, it 
 23* 
 
270 HOLLAND. 
 
 was a stable. There we sat upon our trunks all night, with 
 aching bones, fatigued enough to drop to sleep every mo 
 ment, but in such inconvenient postures, that we could not 
 indulge ourselves in forgetfulness. The only person with 
 whom I could hold any conversation was the pastor of a 
 Protestant church at Leeuwarden. He was passing, like our 
 selves, to Amsterdam, and, hearing from Mr. Williams, who 
 spoke French, that I was an American clergyman, he imme 
 diately began a conversation in Latin, which I supported with 
 some difficulty, in consequence of the mode of pronouncing 
 Latin which is universal on the continent. He appeared to 
 be a most worthy man, but with the most preposterous no 
 tions about our country. I really regretted that we were 
 obliged to part so soon. [After all, they could not reach 
 Amsterdam, and were obliged to walk six or seven miles.] 
 
 " I could fill quires of paper with descriptions of the 
 singular manners and costumes of the Dutch, especially 
 those of North Holland, but I will only tell you a little of 
 the dresses of the women. Imagine a short woman, with a 
 baby face, covered with the whole breadth of one of those 
 straw hats which you used to buy to make bonnets, with 
 two flat gold plates over the ears, to which are suspended 
 a half-pound weight of gold or silver ear-rings, which have 
 descended in the family through many generations. On her 
 head she wears a neat, close cap, with a long streamer on 
 each side, descending over the shoulders. Then comes a 
 chintz gown, with a long waist down to the hips, arid fol 
 lowed by at least a dozen thick petticoats, in the rnidst of 
 summer. Their faces are as uninteresting as the Chinese, 
 and their mode of dress (either of male or female) has 
 not altered for two hundred years. As to the men, so outre 
 is their appearance, that 1 can only say they were made for 
 the women. Our good old Deacon Penhallow would be 
 thought quite a beau compared with any Dutchman whom I 
 have yet seen. The men smoke from morning to night. 
 
HOLLAND. 271 
 
 Their good qualities are neatness and punctuality. Indeed, 
 so punctual are they in travelling, that they reckon by hours 
 instead of miles. 
 
 " The dead level of Holland is a garden throughout, and, 
 in passing the numerous country houses which border their 
 canals, I was continually reminded of some tree or shrub 
 which I had seen blooming in the garden at Waltham. We 
 have just concluded to go to Switzerland, by the passage up 
 the Rhine to Basle, thence to Geneva, and so back to Paris ; 
 so that we shall not see the great city before the latter part 
 of September, when half the population of England will 
 probably have rushed to Paris to be present at the grand 
 fete which Napoleon is preparing. I need not tell you that 
 Lord Lauderdale is received with great joy, and that peace 
 is expected to be signed in a few days. God bless you, 
 my dear sisters, and make you worthy of his love and of the 
 love of all the good and wise. Write to me very particu 
 larly about papa s health. Your dear brother, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
 As his account of the difficulties of travelling upon the 
 continent possesses, when contrasted with the facilities 
 that have since been enjoyed, a sort of historical in 
 terest, the extracts from letters of that period are more 
 copious. It is curious to remark the embarrassments 
 that have been offered to travelling during the past year 
 of revolutions, and the progress of public sentiment, 
 which seems to produce the same difficulties that were 
 caused by despotism fifty years ago. 
 
 After having been turned out of the inn at Coblentz, 
 in order to accommodate Louis, King of Holland, and 
 being detained there a day, because the king took pos 
 session of all the post-horses, they were still more vexed 
 at an embargo in Strasburg, till they could send to Paris 
 for permission to proceed on their journey. 
 
272 STRASBURG. 
 
 " Strasburg, August 30, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, I am glad to have an opportunity to 
 write you a line, though I am sadly vexed at the cause of 
 my present leisure. We had travelled up the Rhine as 
 far as Mayence, on our way to Switzerland with the pass 
 ports which we took of the American Consul at Amster 
 dam, endorsed by the French Commissary in that city. 
 These, we were assured, would carry us through the whole 
 of that part of our route which might lie through French 
 territory. At Mentz, however, upon going before the Secre 
 tary of Police, we learned, to our inexpressible surprise and 
 mortification, that we could not proceed further than Stras 
 burg without passports from Paris. So the police officer 
 took our American passports to send them on to the capital, 
 there to learn if we may be permitted to travel in France. 
 In the mean time, he required us to take a passeporte pro- 
 visoire of him, to carry us to Strasburg ; and informed us 
 that we should be detained there ten days, or till our per 
 mits should arrive from Paris. Here, therefore, we are, in 
 a city where not an individual is known to us, and where 
 nothing is spoken but German or French. If our pass 
 ports should not be sent back to us, we must return to Hol 
 land as we came. I have not much apprehension on this 
 score ; the greatest inconvenience is, that we are losing time 
 and money, and that the rest of our tour must be very much 
 hurried. 
 
 u We have hitherto seen nothing but extremes ; the most 
 enchanting scenery that poet ever fancied, or painter ever 
 drew, and the most wretched cities and villages which 
 poverty, filth, superstition, and vice, and the residence of 
 soldiery, can make. I keep a little journal, which may 
 perhaps at some future time be interesting to myself, but 
 cannot be very much so to any one else. The only Prot 
 estant church which I have seen since leaving Holland, is 
 in this city, and this is Lutheran. I have been fairly home- 
 
STRASBURG. 273 
 
 sick during this tour, and I believe nothing has contributed 
 to it more than the miserable dearth of religious instruc 
 tion, and I fear, too. of the spirit of Christianity. However, 
 though I have been a little home-sick, yet, by the blessing of 
 God, my health has been otherwise uninterrupted since I 
 left England. 
 
 An extract from the journal of the detention of the 
 travellers at Strasburg is inserted. It is a fair specimen 
 of the whole journal. 
 
 " Straslurg, August 28th. Of this city I had formed 
 agreeable expectations, whether from the appearance of 
 the country which preceded it, or from some pleasant clas 
 sical associations, I know not. The Argentorum of the 
 Romans has been long familiar to my imagination from 
 the circumstance of the Typographical Society of Deux- 
 ponts removing here at the beginning of the Revolution, 
 from which time the title-pages of their edition of the clas 
 sics have borne the name of Argentoratum. The lofty 
 spire of the cathedral we distinctly saw at the distance 
 of eight miles, and it was occasionally visible through the 
 whole of the last two posts ! 
 
 " It was Sunday, about three o clock, when we entered the 
 gate of the city, where we left our passeports provisoires. 
 After dinner, we visited the interior of the cathedral, which 
 can hardly be said to be worthy of the exquisite richness 
 and beauty of the tower; indeed, how was it possible? 
 The church was full of confessionals, and the confessionals 
 appeared to be well filled. The pillars which support the 
 nave are hung with Gobeline tapestry ,wrought from designs 
 which picture the imaginary life of the Virgin, ending with 
 her assumption. The altar and choir appear to be modern, 
 and entirely unworthy the rest of the building. 
 
 " Every thing that we saw in Strasburg told us that it was 
 
274 FRENCH THEATRE. 
 
 rather French than German ; and the hustle, the life and 
 gayety of the place, without much real business, are truly 
 characteristic of French cities. We undertook to walk round 
 the ramparts, but were arrested in the midst of our prome 
 nade by the rough command of an officer, who called out, 
 Descendez, Messieurs ! The barracks, which are prodig 
 iously extensive buildings, appeared to be full of soldiers, and 
 not a few of those who saw the day of Austerlitz are here, 
 resting from their labors and their wounds. The number of 
 wounded soldiers that we see everywhere tells the story 
 of the last few years. 
 
 " The evening of Monday we passed at the Theatre Fran- 
 ais and Allemande. The proportion, however, which the 
 performances in French bear to those in German, is, I sus 
 pect, five or six to one. I could understand but very little 
 of the comedy, but I am satisfied that the French theatre 
 may be much superior to the English. They have not so 
 good plays, but I am assured they have better actors. There 
 is a quickness of perception, a delicacy, united with a cer 
 tain rapidity of feeling, and a continual sense of propriety 
 in the management of scenes, which the English are either 
 too slow or too wise to possess. The mutes on the French 
 stage appear to be interested in what is going forward, and 
 never stand in that awkward or listless manner which you 
 observe in England and with us. Add to this, the French 
 articulation is more distinct, their pronunciation perfect, 
 and their voices upon a higher key than the English. 
 These observations are the hasty result of two nights ex 
 perience, and from one who knows very little of the lan 
 guage. Perhaps a half hour at the Paris theatre will upset 
 all my conclusions, and leave only these facts, which I be 
 lieve are acknowledged on all hands, that the costume of 
 the French stage is most carefully preserved and their 
 declamation unrivalled. 
 
 " Tuesday, 5 P. M. The day and the hour when I as- 
 
CATHEDRAL AT STRASEUKG. 275 
 
 cended the tower of the cathedral of Strasburg can never 
 be forgotten ; but as to describing the effect of such an 
 elevation and the unrivalled prospect, it is wholly out of the 
 reach of my pen. All_that I had__before ; seen and _read of 
 Gothic architecture had given me no idea of the richness, 
 the grace, the variety, and the extreme lightness, which are 
 all combined in this wonderful structure. It is the glory of 
 Strasburg, the admiration of travellers, and sacred to the 
 piety, almost an honor to the superstition, which erected it. 
 [Here follows a description which is omitted.] 
 
 " The great beauty of this steeple consists, first, in its 
 lightness. As it is built of a very hard stone, which is now 
 the color of rusty iron, the stone-work is extremely slender, 
 and cut with exquisite delicacy, and strengthened with bars 
 of iron. Secondly, in its complete preservation. Nothing 
 is wanting of its original material except here and there the 
 corner of an ornament or some unessential, minute stone. 
 Thirdly, in the exquisite variety of its Gothic decorations, 
 windows, and side turrets, round which the stone stairs wind 
 in a graceful spiral, and are made to contribute essentially 
 to the beauty of the structure. Fourthly, in its wonderful 
 elevation. When you have reached the top, you havesome 
 leisure to think how such exquisitely wrought masses of 
 stone, held together with belts and clamps of iron, could 
 have been raised to such a height, and how men could have 
 worked there without giddiness." 
 
 The journal contains, on the next page, a parallel be 
 tween French and English character, drawn from his 
 detention ten days in a French German city. 
 
 "It is impossible to spend six days in any French city 
 without discovering something of the difference of national 
 character between them and their neighbours on the other 
 side of the Channel. We have so often heard of the char- 
 
276 FRENCH AND ENGLISH CHARACTER. 
 
 acteristic liveliness of the French, that no traveller, upon 
 entering their country, is surprised to hear them continually 
 talking, and that, too, with the greatest earnestness, accom 
 panied with perpetual gestures. But he may be surprised 
 to find that all this noise and earnestness is, in general, 
 about the veriest trifles, or the most familiar and common 
 topics. The course of a Frenchman s day is totally unlike 
 ours. IS agre?nent is his motto. He rises rather late, and 
 takes his coffee, perhaps a single cup, and, at eleven, he has 
 his dejeune of a chicken and a bottle of vin ordinaire. An 
 Englishman, on the contrary, eats a large breakfast, and is 
 busy till six, and then his dinner fills up the remainder of 
 the hours. A Frenchman wears his morning gown through 
 the whole day ; an Englishman esteems it a matter of con 
 science to be neatly and politely dressed before the hour of 
 dinner. A Frenchman will hardly fail of being at the spec 
 tacle every night of the week ; this habit is as regular as 
 his meals. An Englishmen will scarcely exceed ten or 
 twelve nights in a season. Their food is also as different 
 as their dispositions. An English dinner for two or three 
 persons would be a moderate joint of meat and some little 
 second course ; a Frenchman could not sit down to less than 
 a dozen dishes of flesh, fish, and fowl. His pottage is in 
 variably the first; then an ounce or two of beef, completely 
 boiled to rags. Then he breaks his bread, and begins upon 
 his bottle of wine ; then comes fish, after that some absurd 
 mixture of gizzards, etc. ; then a chicken, duck, or some 
 odd wild fowl, a trifle, salad, dessert, etc. Yet, with all 
 this rich and endless variety, they are neither gluttons nor 
 epicures. They are never anticipating nor discussing their 
 meals ; nor do they, like the English, sit long at table to drink 
 wine. When their little bottle of French wine is exhausted, 
 their potations are finished. A Frenchman eats what is set 
 before him, often what an Englishman would send from the 
 table ; though more simple, he is more fastidious in his food. 
 
FOREIGN MANNERS. 277 
 
 " The manners of the French, in public and in private, 
 in social intercourse, are all marked with delicacy. Vice, 
 in the words of Mr. Burke, loses half its evil not only among 
 the great, but among the common people, by losing all its 
 grossness. This remark is not only applicable to the court 
 of Marie Antoinette, the unfortunate, but to the public man 
 ners of the French themselves. Everything in the theatre 
 and the street wears the exterior of good manners and 
 civility. A French audience is never impatient, never 
 boisterous. Their applauses are short ; their hisses very 
 rare. One night, at Strasburg, the play broke off very 
 abruptly, and we were disappointed of a great part of the 
 spectacle. We were amused, however, to see how quietly 
 the audience took it, when, in England, the whole house 
 would have been in an uproar, and John Bull would have 
 raved with all the privileges of an Englishman." 
 
 These remarks were made more than forty years ago, 
 and when the writer had seen of French cities only 
 Strasburg. Another extract from this journal shows, 
 that the custom of calling upon authors and celebrated 
 persons had not then become so common as to be re 
 garded with approbation. 
 
 " Professor Schweighauser, whose Athenseus makes one 
 of the Strasburg edition of the Greek and Latin Classics, is 
 a native and an inhabitant of this city, and is now an old 
 man. A bookseller politely offered to carry me to see him, 
 upon the pretence that he would be glad to see an American 
 who was acquainted with his edition of Athenseus ; but 
 upon what pretence could I call upon him ? And how 
 could I presume to insult him with my imperfect Latin and 
 still worse French, the only languages in which I could 
 make him understand that I had no right to call upon him ? 
 24 
 
218 STRASBURG. 
 
 So, then, I shall leave Strasburg without seeing Professor 
 Schweighauser ! " 
 
 After waiting in Strasburg about twelve days, they re 
 ceived their passports, but their troubles were not yet 
 at an end. 
 
 " At the first post-house beyond Strasburg, we were ac 
 costed by four gens d armes, who demanded our passports. 
 They were in English, according to an improvident custom 
 of the American Consul at Paris. The first officer, upon 
 looking at them, cried out Ma foi, je rfentends pas le Lat 
 in. Another, taking them out of his hand, declared they were 
 k Hollandoise." 1 However, upon seeing the Paris vise and 
 the signature of Fouche, they returned them. Just as we 
 were going off, they came back with a paper, which con 
 tained a list of names for which they were commissioned 
 to inquire, by stopping all travellers on that route. They 
 began to question us with much severity, to inquire our 
 names, our quality, our business, our route, etc. We be 
 gan to be much alarmed, especially upon my overhearing 
 one of them say, Ce sont ires suspects. After searching us 
 and our baggage, we were permitted to proceed. They 
 had found nothing like our names in the list of the sus 
 pected, and nothing suspicious in our baggage." 
 
 After an agreeable tour in Switzerland, the travellers 
 reached Paris in October, and took rooms in the Rue 
 Vivienne. 
 
 " Paris, November 12th, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER, I hope the letters that I have ad 
 dressed to you from different places on the Continent have 
 all reached you, because they have all contained some favor 
 able statement of my health ; and I am happy to add, that 
 I have still abundant reason for believing that my European 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF PARIS. 279 
 
 sejour, by the blessing of God, will terminate in the per 
 fect establishment of my constitution I have found 
 
 nothing yet in Paris which will make me leave it with regret. 
 Knowing so little as I do of the language, I have not been able 
 to form many French acquaintances ; and the American 
 families live in a remote part of the city from me. Ex 
 cept that I have made some valuable and cheap purchases 
 of books, 1 consider my stay here as time almost altogether 
 lost. The Emperor is absent on his triumphant Prussian 
 campaign, and I fear I shall have no opportunity of seeing 
 him. 
 
 " Last Sunday, I attended the Te Deum at the church of 
 Notre-Dame, which was performed in consequence of the 
 victory of Jena. The concourse of people was immense. 
 All the public dignitaries were present in their robes of 
 state. The splendor of the costumes and equipages about 
 the Emperor s court far surpasses any other prince in Eu 
 rope, and is much more magnificent than under the Bour 
 bons. But I must write nothing upon politics, since a pru 
 dent silence is the order of the day all over this colossal 
 empire. I only wish I could let my friends in political life 
 in America know how painful, how mortifying, how dis 
 gusting, how low, how infamous, appear the animosities and 
 wicked calumnies, with which our American papers are 
 filled. I am called every day to blush for the state of 
 society among us, and attempt, but in vain, to say something 
 in our defence. There is nothing I have more at heart 
 than to impress upon the minds of my countrymen the 
 grievous injury which we suffer in Europe from the com 
 plexion of our newspapers, and the brutality of our party 
 spirit, the infamy of our political disputes. Of what ad 
 vantage is our boasted freedom, if it is only consistent with 
 such a state of animosity as now exists in New England ? 
 1 am every day called to deplore the picture which we 
 present to the eyes of Europe. Every paper that comes 
 
280 GEN. LA FAYETTE. 
 
 from the United States brings its addition to the load of our 
 disgrace. 
 
 " It is impossible to be out of employment here, where 
 is collected almost everything that is rare, beautiful, or 
 valuable. I have begun to take a few lessons in French, 
 in order to familiarize myself to the idiom and the pro 
 nunciation, that I may not be an utter stranger in the com 
 pany of Frenchmen. 
 
 " I have spent the last six days at the country-seat of a 
 gentleman, where I have rode on horseback every day ; and 
 my sisters would have laughed to have seen me in the field 
 with five or six other gentlemen, followed by hounds, chasing 
 a hare. There I enjoyed for two days the company of 
 Gen. La Fayette, whose name, you know, is dear to Ameri 
 ca. It is impossible to conceive of a man of more amiable 
 manners, or in whose conversation one could take more de 
 light. He is extravagantly attached to everything Ameri 
 can, and full of interesting anecdotes of the revolution in 
 our country and in France. My fire is out, and, as wood 
 is fifteen dollars a cord in France, I dare not make any 
 more. O, may He who has hitherto watched over me bring 
 about, in His good providence, such a termination of my 
 tour as to restore my health, and bring me to you, to my 
 sisters, my friends, and parish, in the course of another 
 six months ! " 
 
 To Mrs. Lyrnan : 
 
 " Paris, November 12th, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR MADAM, When I sit down to write a letter 
 to Boston, the multitude of friends to whom I am indebted 
 quite overwhelms me, and I hardly know to whom to direct 
 my lines ; but I feel more at liberty in addressing myself 
 to you than to any one, because, as I have no reason to 
 expect a return to my letters, I know you will not blame 
 me for want of punctuality. Francis and I have visited 
 
FRENCH LADIES. 281 
 
 together some of the most delightful spots in the old world. 
 You know he has an eye continually open to the charms 
 of nature, and that his taste, has been much cultivated by 
 the attention he has always paid to the fine arts; he has 
 imparted to me infinite pleasure by his conversation. I 
 have every reason to believe that he has arrived safely in 
 Finsbury Square, where I hope to meet him before the first 
 of January. 
 
 " You, I know, will not expect me to say much of Paris, 
 for the very reason because there is so much to be said. 
 In visiting the apartments of the Emperor and Empress, in 
 the Tuilleries, I wished twenty times that you could have 
 been with me, to have admired the exquisite taste of the 
 furniture, the splendor of the decorations, and the perfection 
 which the Parisians have attained in all the furniture and 
 arts of living. As I am acquainted with very little exclu 
 sively French society, I draw my ideas of French fashions 
 not perhaps from original sources, but from the families 
 of Messrs. Bowdoin, Parker, and Hottinguer. Their din 
 ners are models of ease and elegance. The company is 
 seated promiscuously, the servants numerous, the wines 
 light and agreeable, the time spent at meals always mode 
 rate, the gentlemen rising with the ladies. 
 
 " A French family, you know, cannot live without com 
 pany. An evening spent at home with one s husband and 
 children would be terribly ennuyeiix; of course, the specta 
 cle, or a party, is always at hand to fill up the evening. 
 Domestic education, I presume, is almost unknown in Paris. 
 I am extremely charmed with the general appearance of 
 French ladies. It is true, their faces are by no means as 
 handsome as you will see among the English and Ameri 
 cans, but their persons, their air, their tout ensemble, is truly 
 admirable and fascinating. The lowest wench in a French 
 kitchen dresses with more taste than many English and (you 
 will pardon me) American ladies. Whether it is the con- 
 24 * 
 
282 IMPRESSIONS OF PARIS. 
 
 tinual contemplation of the finest works of ancient genius that 
 gives them this power of decoration, and of producing beau 
 tiful effect, or whether their forms are really better than 
 ours, I know not ; but it is only necessary to take a tour in 
 the streets of Paris, to be satisfied of the superior elegance 
 of the women of all ranks. 
 
 " The grand theatre here, where are played the first-rate 
 plays of Racine, Corneille, and Moliere, is, in my opinion, 
 the purest school of morals to be found in Paris, excepting, 
 perhaps, the Protestant Church. I attend it once or twice 
 a week, and return more satisfied than from any other place 
 of amusement in Paris. But alas ! I feel that in this city 
 I am not where I ought to be, and I sigh for America, 
 for New England, for my people and friends. How glad 
 I am that none of my female friends were born here, al 
 though I wish they could enjoy the pleasure of a visit ! I 
 know none who would enjoy it more than you, and S., and 
 Mr. Lyman, but you will never come ; and I pray 
 God I may be able, before the end of six months, to com 
 municate to you a little of what I have collected worthy of 
 your ear 
 
 " You will think this a strange letter, but, from such a 
 city as Paris, what shall I write ? About the Tuilleries and 
 the Louvre ? It would take a quire of paper. About the 
 Venus de Medicis and the Apollo? What, that they 
 are very pretty statues ? Precious information ! and you 
 would put me down for a coxcomb. In the midst of Paris, 
 my desires turn towards Boston. This single confession is 
 a sufficient answer to all affectionate inquiries, and proves 
 me, as ever, your affectionate, faithful servant, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
 " Paris, December 7th, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR SISTERS, I wilt begin this page with tender 
 ly recollecting you, and the little ones, you, the careful 
 
EDUCATION OF YOUNG LADIES. 283 
 
 guardians, they, the docile objects of your love and care. 
 It is painful beyond expression to be so shut out from com 
 munication with you, I sincerely hope you have not suf 
 fered so much from ignorance of your brother s welfare. I 
 have written every month, if my letters have only arrived 
 in season to relieve your anxiety. If I only knew what 
 you would be most pleased with, I could procure you here 
 a thousand little conveniences, at a much cheaper rate than 
 they are to be procured in America ; but alas ! I know not 
 your wishes nor your wants. I am doubtful whether let 
 ters written in English will be permitted to pass. In this 
 state of uncertainty, I have wished a thousand times that you 
 understood French, that I might address my letters to you 
 in that language, which is, in fact, the only one understood 
 all over the world. Would it not be worth your while, my 
 dear sisters, to apply yourselves a little to it, to ascertain 
 whether you made sufficient progress to encourage you to 
 proceed, and, by the help of a grammar and dictionary, 
 and afterwards without, to enter on some easy author, such 
 as Florian and Marmontel, and afterwards upon the vast 
 stores of pleasant reading with which French literature 
 abounds ? The system of education here, for young ladies, 
 is extremely rigid. Under the age of twenty, and even 
 till marriage, they are confined very much at home. They 
 are never suffered to visit, and rarely to go out without 
 their mothers or instructors. The strictest attention is paid 
 to the decency of their manners. There education is rigid, 
 though perhaps trivial and superficial. Not a day passes 
 of which two or three hours are not devoted to the piano, 
 to the drawing-master, the dancing- master, and perhaps 
 Italian, English, or German. It is only after marriage that 
 young women are free. They are married without their 
 choice, I had almost said without their knowledge : of course, 
 the last persons they are solicitous to please are their hus 
 bands. Each partner has separate pleasures and pursuits. 
 
284 LIFE IN PARIS. 
 
 A French lady never grows old. It is indeed astonishing 
 to find how long they retain their vivacity; and there is 
 nothing to betray their age, for their complexions, thanks 
 to the perfection to which they have brought the cosmetic 
 art, are the same at every period of life. I hope, my dear 
 sisters, you will always remain young without the help of 
 paint, and full of vivacity without being indebted for it 
 to the happy climate of France, but to the combined influ 
 ences of good sense, benevolence ever active, and piety 
 ever grateful and ever resigned. When, when shall I have 
 the happiness to receive a letter from you ? But I will not 
 be uneasy. The Atlantic of three thousand miles sepa 
 rates us, it is true ; but what is that to the eye of Provi 
 dence ? A line, a point 
 
 " I am not sufficiently charmed with Paris to make me 
 happy here. It is a place, I think, with which no man can 
 be enraptured who is not willing to seek for pleasure be 
 yond the limits of strict evangelical morality. But still 
 there is enough to employ every moment of a literary man s 
 hours ; and if I wished to devote myself to any science 
 except those connected with theology, there is no place on 
 the face of the globe that presents such varied and rich 
 facilities. 
 
 "Forgive the emptiness of this letter. Take care of 
 papa, and may God keep you all to embrace once more 
 your dear brother ! J. S. B." 
 
 " Paris, December 10th, 1806. 
 
 " Mr DEAR SISTERS, This day is, without exception, the 
 most delightful that I have enjoyed since I left Boston. I 
 am in ecstasies ; my hand trembles with joy and gratitude. 
 I have just received a large packet of letters from America, 
 the first since the beginning of October. O, my dear sisters, 
 how exquisite is the happiness of hearing from home ! I 
 forget that I am in Paris ; your letters have transported me 
 
EMPLOYMENT IN PARIS. 285 
 
 to America, to Portsmouth, to our own fireside ! When 
 shall I hear again ? God be thanked that these have 
 reached me, and that they do not contain a single article 
 distressing, or even unpleasant. 
 
 " You will no doubt be surprised that I have remained 
 so long in Paris. I am us much surprised at it as your 
 selves. I have my passport now in my pocket, and wait 
 impatiently to get away. You will ere this have seen the 
 decree of the Emperor, which renders all intercourse be 
 tween the Continent and England almost wholly impracti 
 cable. Still, however, I hope I have not been uselessly 
 employed here. In the first place, I have every reason 
 to believe that my health is every day reestablishing itself. 
 I hope to return to you and my dear father, if not entirely 
 cured, at least much ameliorated. But of the former I 
 have many reasons to hope, even confidently. I trust I 
 shall be able to be more useful, more industrious, and more 
 interested in the great cause of truth and piety, than ever, 
 that I shall be a more devoted, I cannot be a more affection 
 ate, brother. But this remains a secret in the w r ill of Heaven, 
 and why should I be anxious to explore it ? Even if Eu 
 rope should be destined to receive my bones, and strangers 
 to close my dying eyes, is there not another country in 
 which no good man will be a stranger ? Yes, there is. 
 And let me beg of you, my beloved sisters, to remember, 
 that it is the region to which all our hopes and fears, our 
 pursuits, our inquiries, and our meditations, should continu 
 ally tend, or, at least, from which we should never be es 
 tranged, and to which we should never even for a moment 
 be indifferent. May God form you both to rational and en 
 lightened faith in his religion, and to an habitual love of 
 all its duties. I hojJe you have received a work which I 
 requested might be sent to you from Boston, written by that 
 excellent woman, Mrs. Hamilton 
 
 " My principal employment here has been collecting 
 
286 LIFE IN PARIS. 
 
 books. Works in theology may be bought for a trifle, and 
 I have gone to the full extent of my resources in collecting 
 a very large library. I wish you read French. I could 
 provide you here a little library at a cheap rate, which 
 would be an endless source of pleasure to you, when your 
 cares are less than at present, and you will have culti 
 vated, I hope, that taste for reading, which will be to you 
 of infinitely more value than jewels and riches inexhaustible. 
 
 " I should have reaped much greater pleasure from my 
 long sejour in this city, if, in the first place, there were any 
 Protestant church, which I could have frequented with satis 
 faction, and, in the next place, if I understood the language 
 sufficiently to take pleasure in French society. Without 
 this accomplishment, Paris must be in some measure dull to 
 any person who is not willing to relieve his ennui by rush 
 ing into scenes of guilty amusement. The Theatre Fran- 
 ^ais is certainly an exception, and perhaps the best school 
 of morals, as well as the best means of learning a correct 
 pronunciation of the language, in Paris. I have been there 
 two or three evenings every week, and consider it time well 
 spent. 
 
 " Mr. Bowdoin s family has become almost indispensable 
 to me. Judge Tudor s is very agreeable. They have a 
 little company every Monday evening, among whom are 
 to be found most of the Americans here. I find entertain 
 ment of a still higher class in the company of Count Rum- 
 ford, and of those whom I meet at his house. Pie has a 
 weekly meeting of the members of the Institute, and his 
 wife, the widow of the famous Lavoisier, is able to bear a 
 part in the most scientific discussions. I must refer you to 
 the letters I shall send to some of my friends in Boston, 
 which contain a few of the impressions which this city has 
 made upon my mind. 
 
 " I have received my mother s hair with the greatest 
 pleasure. As to the portrait, I am afraid I shall not an- 
 
LETTER TO MR. LYMAN. 287 
 
 swer your request ; at any rate, I hope I shall not have time 
 to have it executed in Paris 
 
 " I add only a few words, that I am pleased at anything 
 which looks like literary taste or curiosity in your letters. 
 Although I am aware that both my sisters are immersed in 
 cares for their father and the younger ones, yet I am grati 
 fied to perceive in your letters that your minds are con 
 tinually ripening and improving. Your sex have always 
 been famous for their epistolary excellence. Madame de 
 Sevigne in France, and Lady Montagu in England, have 
 left the finest specimens in this kind of writing. Perhaps 
 Cowper, however, has redeemed the inferiority of our sex 
 in this respect. But the first requisite in letter-writing is a 
 most accurate orthography. Elegant effusions of sentiment 
 will not compensate a defect in spelling in the eyes of a 
 person who sees the original. In the next place, a gram 
 matical, and, lastly, an easy and perspicuous, construction 
 of sentences, is indispensable. J-<et me recommend to your 
 perusal Blair s large work on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres. 
 I shall devote the next pages to the little ones. 
 
 " Farewell, my dear sisters. I love you more and more 
 the farther I am from you, and the longer I am absent. 
 Your dear brother, J. S. B." 
 
 To Mr. Lyman : 
 
 " Paris, January 2d, 1807. 
 
 " MY DEAR BENEFACTOR AND FRIEND, My father tells 
 me, in a letter dated some time in August, which I received 
 about a week ago, that you appea redsomewhat surprised 
 at not having received any letter from me. If I had thought 
 that my neglect of writing would have appeared to you an 
 indication of my having lost any portion of that love and 
 respect which I have ever felt for you, I should not have 
 been guilty of so much inconsiderateness, which I fear you 
 have felt as a kind of ingratitude. But really, my dear 
 
288 LETTER TO MR. LYMAN. 
 
 Sir, as I bad never been in tbe habit of corresponding with 
 you, I was a little doubtful whether you would now ex 
 pect it from me ; and if I have failed in duty, I can never 
 fail in affection. I hope Mrs. Lyman has received all the 
 letters I have addressed to her, and that you both have seen 
 those I have addressed to Shaw and Walter. If you have 
 not been made perfectly acquainted with everything that 
 I have written to America, it was because my correspond 
 ents were ignorant of the perfect confidence, affection, and 
 regard I have always cherished towards you. Forgive me, 
 I pray you, if I have not fulfilled what you expected from 
 me, and let me know that you have received this letter, 
 and have pardoned me. 
 
 " I have not heard, in any of my letters from Boston, that 
 Theodore has entered college this year. I hope you will 
 not allow him to cherish anything like indifference for a 
 liberal education. 1 have the greatest hopes from him. 
 Give my love to him and to George. O, may they never 
 be corrupted, never lose those qualities which have made 
 them so many friends, and so dear to me ! Tell them that 
 they must not forget him, who hopes to have the happiness 
 of seeing the fruit of some of those early instructions which 
 it was always his pleasure, and he trusts will be his honor, 
 to have given them. 
 
 " A few words for Mrs. L. I have had the pleasure of 
 passing an evening with Helen Maria Williams. She has 
 a literary coterie every Sunday evening. She is now rather 
 advanced in years, and certainly homely, but a very in 
 teresting woman. Madame de Genlis lives in Paris, not very 
 much respected. Her works, however, still pass through 
 many editions, and when the Bourbons again are in power, 
 her turn will come, as she educated some of the members of 
 that family. Madame D Arblay resides here also. I haVe, 
 some hopes of being introduced to her. She is a novelist 
 who has lived her own romances, as she is said to have 
 
RETURN TO ENGLAND. 289 
 
 made a most imprudent marriage for love, and is in very 
 low circumstances. Madame de Stae l has been long since 
 banished from Paris, on account of the freedom of the liter 
 ary and political conversations she was in the habit of hold 
 ing at her evening parties of men of letters, a kind of club 
 which the Emperor did not choose to tolerate. So much 
 for literary ladies. 
 
 " Do not let the present state of political affairs in Eu 
 rope weigh too much upon you mind. I have no right to 
 ask you for a few lines, but I have a right to say how grate 
 ful they would be. 
 
 " Yours, with every sentiment of affection, 
 
 "J. S. B." 
 
 " Plymouth, Feb. 15th, 1807. 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER, I commence a letter at this place ; 
 perhaps it will be finished in London. At length I have es 
 caped from France, that land of delays, vexations, police, 
 and passports, and am safely landed on British ground, 
 where I feel at ease, secure, and comfortable. It is now 
 three months since I began to look out for an opportunity of 
 coming over, and just as I was upon the point of conclud 
 ing to leave Paris for Holland, the imperial decree came 
 out interdicting every species of communication with the 
 British Isles. This decree is executed with peculiar rigor 
 in Holland, so that my hopes from that quarter were cut 
 off, and I was unwilling to undertake so long a journey as 
 from Paris to Rotterdam with prospects so unsafe. About 
 the middle of November, I heard that Mr. Charles Williams, 
 of Boston, was at Cherbourg; that he was going round to 
 Treguier, a little port on the coast of Brittany, to take in a 
 cargo of wheat, and that he would go immediately to some 
 part of England. I wrote to him on the subject of taking 
 Mr. Thacher and myself as passengers. To this he most 
 obligingly consented ; and I accordingly took out passports 
 25 
 
290 JOURNEY THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 at the police, to embark at Treguier for the United States. 
 These passports I have carried in my pocket more than 
 three months. Mr. Williams was detained six weeks at 
 Cherbourg. At last we heard of his sailing, and were ex 
 pecting every day to be informed of his arrival at Treguier, 
 upon which we were immediately to set out from Paris. 
 On his passage round, he was taken by a privateer and car 
 ried into Guernsey. Hearing nothing from him for a fort 
 night, we gave him up as lost or taken, and resigned our 
 selves to the expectation of remaining in France for an indefi 
 nite period. At length, however, about the beginning of 
 February, we were informed of his arrival at Treguier, and 
 that we must be there as soon as possible. 
 
 " After spending eight days in traversing the vilest roads 
 through the most barbarous country of France, filled and 
 traversed about three years since with Chouans and brig 
 ands, we arrived at the little port just in season to get on 
 board the vessel. In about thirty hours, we set our feet on 
 the opposite shore. I shall set off for London to-morrow, 
 and hope to reach it in five days. 
 
 " In all this arrangement of my circumstances, through 
 the whole of this last winter, I think I see the hand of the 
 kindest Providence. Much against my will, I was detained 
 in a mild climate through the severe months, by which my 
 health has been restored. I have been reserved for the 
 most favorable opportunity in the world for getting over at 
 last in the vessel of a friend, where I could be perfectly at 
 home, without inconvenience and without expense ; and, to 
 crown the whole, the most favorable gales have wafted us 
 to England in the shortest time. 
 
 " The season is astonishingly mild. The whole country 
 round Plymouth is covered with verdure, and, through the 
 whole of the part of France which I traversed, the buds 
 were swelling and the grass growing. I cannot but con 
 sider it also a great favor, that, in travelling in the diligence 
 
JOURNEY THROUGH BRITTANY. 291 
 
 through Brittany, where the people are extremely barbarous, 
 clad in goat-skins, and speaking a barbarous language, I 
 should everywhere on the road have met with the most 
 obliging and attentive Frenchmen, who did everything 
 to facilitate our journey, and whom, if I should ever meet 
 them in America, I shall rejoice to embrace as friends and 
 brothers. My health continues uninterrupted. Adieu." 
 
 There is recorded in the notice of this rapid journey 
 to Treguier a singular incident of the romance of real 
 life, that seems stranger than the romance of fiction. 
 
 " There travelled with us," he remarks, " in the diligence, 
 an ugly Frenchman. Some of the company said he was 
 hastening on to Rennes, to take possession of the estate 
 of a brother who had lately died in the absence of his wife ; 
 and it was supposed she had not heard of the death of her 
 husband, and that she would lose all her little estate. As 
 we were sitting around the fire in the kitchen of the inn, re 
 lating these circumstances, an aged and sorrowful woman 
 appeared o listen attentively. Upon inquiry, we found that 
 it was the widow, hastening on to her husband, with whom 
 she had been reconciled, but ignorant till that moment of 
 his death. She was without means of pursuing her journey 
 with sufficient rapidity to reach Rennes as soon as the 
 brother-in-law. The passengers of the diligence made up 
 a sum, and engaged the landlord of the inn to send her 
 immediately on her way. God grant she may reach home 
 in time to prevent the fraud of the brother." 
 
 Another interesting circumstance is mentioned in the 
 record of this journey. A company of soldiers, a por 
 tion of the coast guard, were travelling this same road 
 through Brittany. The captain, with his wife, accom 
 panied them in the diligence. The difficulty of speak- 
 
292 GRIEF AT THE 
 
 ing the language, and the barbarous state of the country, 
 rendered it hard for these two young men of a peaceful 
 profession to make themselves understood. The cap- 
 tain -s wife, however, took them under her especial pro 
 tection, foraged for them, and proved in this instance 
 the often repeated assertion of the quick understanding 
 and prompt kindness of woman. 
 
 Another .letter to his father resumes the corre 
 spondence. 
 
 " London, Feb. 22d, 1807. 
 
 " I have arrived in London to meet with the saddest re 
 verse. I have just heard of the death of my dear friend 
 Walter ! O, my dear Sir, you cannot know how much I 
 loved him ! I never knew till now what it was to lose so 
 dear, so excellent a friend. I have been writing letters of 
 consolation to some of my afflicted people, and now I want 
 it myself. My dear, aged friend, Deacon Storer, too ! Ah, 
 a great chasm is made in the precious circle of my attach 
 ments. God preserve you and my dear sisters ! But alas ! 
 I tremble at every letter which arrives, lest it should tell 
 of the loss of some friend. I hope to be able to preserve 
 my health and the equanimity of my spirits by the aid of 
 our blessed religion ; but this shock is dreadful. I never 
 felt such grief before. Your letters tell me of another 
 dreadful fire in Portsmouth. I hope the loss of fortune will 
 teach them how foolish it is to love money extravagantly, 
 ah, and even to love anything on earth extravagantly. 
 But my friend Walter is no longer on earth ; he is in 
 heaven ! 
 
 " I pray you be careful of your cold. Thank my dear 
 sisters for their letters. When I feel more at case, I shall 
 write more at length. 
 
 " Your dear son, 
 
 "J. S. B. 1 
 
DEATH OF MR. WALTER. 293 
 
 " London, March llth, 1S07. 
 
 " MY DEAR SISTERS, Do not you and my dear father be 
 too much distressed to hear that I have had an ill turn, 
 after an interval of nearly half a year. It was slight, very 
 slight, and I am satisfied that it arose from something I had 
 eaten 
 
 " The time that I spent upon the Continent has passed 
 like a tale that is told. It was extremely agreeable, except 
 that I was always uncertain of any means of returning to 
 England. I travelled through France towards the sea-coast 
 during the carnival week, and you would think the whole 
 nation had run mad. In the little villages, the peasants, 
 from the oldest to the youngest, are collected, and every 
 species of foolery and absurdity is going on. 
 
 " You cannot know how much I have suffered by hear 
 ing of the death of so many friends during my absence. 
 I hope, my dear sisters, you will never be called to such 
 heavy trials. People will tell us that we are young enough 
 to make new friends; a most impertinent species of con 
 solation. Can the new ever take the place of the old ? We 
 may indeed form new attachments, but we cannot knit 
 them to the old ; the void remains, and the heart bleeds. 
 Give my sincerest regards to the Storer family. I loved 
 their father dearly, and I know that he was more attached 
 to me than age commonly is to youth. I have written to 
 Madam S., but she is a pious woman, and does not need 
 my consolation or advice. I have also written to two other 
 of my parishioners, who have been most severely afflicted 
 by the loss of children ; I mean Mrs. H. G, Otis and Judge 
 Sullivan 
 
 " I have often thought, my dear sisters, how happy you 
 and I are, in having been born of pious and sensible parents, 
 descended from excellent ancestors, educated in rather an 
 humble condition of life, and drawn into the world and its 
 notice, instead of being pushed out prematurely. The con- 
 25* 
 
294 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 sequence of this, 1 hope, will be, that our manners, our under 
 standings, and our hearts will be gradually improving as long 
 as we live ; and as we love one another the more the older 
 we grow, so we may at the same time be solicitous to ren 
 der ourselves each the more worthy of the other, and of 
 that beloved parent whose affection, solicitude, and loveli 
 ness has ever been impressed upon my heart, and who, 
 I have fondly hoped, has been permitted to watch over her 
 children. 
 
 " Have you read any of Paley s works, his Natural 
 Theology, Moral Philosophy, Evidences, etc. ? I think you 
 will find his Natural Theology particularly interesting. The 
 world has talked too long about books for ladies ; you ought 
 to read fundamentally the same books with the other sex. 
 I look forward with anxious and increasing pleasure to the 
 hour of returning to you, and imparting to you the added 
 knowledge it has been my good fortune, rather than my 
 desert, to obtain beyond you. I shall try to procure a few 
 elementary books, which shall be of use to my little sisters 
 and brother. 
 
 " Since I wrote to papa, I have preached at the Old 
 Jewry for Dr. Rees, and have brought upon myself a great 
 many solicitations, which I resist manfully. I have just come 
 from seeing an old gentleman at Hackney, who has been 
 a preacher there thirty-five years, Mr. Samuel Palmer, a 
 particular friend of Orton, and editor of his life and letters. 
 I believe I shall be obliged to give him a discourse. But I 
 have been induced to preach not so much to assist my 
 friends, I acknowledge, as to keep up a kind of familiarity 
 with the pulpit, that I may not return raw and awkward. 
 As far as I have been able to observe, and I have attended 
 upon almost every variety of preaching in London, the 
 discourses here are very far inferior to those we usually 
 hear in New England. 
 
 " God preserve you, my dear sisters ! Ah, I little thought. 
 
VIEWS OF HIS STATE OF HEALTH. 295 
 
 when I besought my dear friend Walter to be thankful for 
 my preservation, I should so soon lament his departure in 
 the bloom of life and hopes ! Adieu. Your dear brother, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
 To his father : 
 
 " London, May 5th, 1807. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIB, A year has nearly elapsed since I gave 
 you my last look at Portsmouth ; a year full of variety, 
 and perhaps not entirely destitute of profit. A few weeks 
 more, and my exile is at an end. As I draw near the term 
 of my absence, my mind is torn by a thousand contrary 
 emotions. I wish to escape from London, for I have re 
 ceived the most unbounded, and it seems to me the most 
 unmerited, as it is the most unexpected, kindness from every 
 person to whom I have been introduced ; and I am making 
 friends here, whom I shall leave with increased regret if I 
 remain longer. I wish upon my return to be perfectly un 
 embarrassed, that I may enjoy the undivided happiness of em 
 bracing you in America. If the malady with which it has 
 pleased God to try me should not entirely disappear, I hope 
 that I shall be able, by his grace, so to discipline my mind 
 as to prepare it for any consequences of such disorder ; 
 consequences, indeed, which I anticipate with anguish of 
 soul, but which I think I could bear without guilty com 
 plaint. If I should be obliged to relinquish, at some future, 
 I hope far distant, day, the care of my people, this would 
 be the severest blow of all. But even this would be re 
 lieved by the consideration that the greatest good is com 
 monly done in youth, and by young preachers, when the 
 attachment of the society is fresh, and the zeal of the pas 
 tor most active. Do not think, from the strain of this let 
 ter, (which I have unconsciously run into,) that my com 
 plaints return. No; thank God, I have reason to believe 
 they will afflict me less and less, and that my voyage and 
 residence on the Continent will contribute essentially to my 
 
296 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 restoration ; but I wish to show you that the most dreadful 
 consequences of my malady are familiar, as they ought to 
 be, to my thoughts, and that no presumptuous expectations 
 of fame, or of long life, ever for a moment make me in 
 sensible to the perpetual lesson of humility with which God 
 has visited me. 
 
 " When I think of the numerous distressing events which 
 have taken place among my acquaintance during my ab 
 sence, I bless God that the force of them is in some 
 measure diminished by distance. 
 
 " I am obliged to delay setting off for Scotland at present, 
 for all the horses are taken up in electioneering, and the 
 whole kingdom is in a ferment. I intend if possible to be 
 in Edinburgh during the sitting of the General Assembly 
 of the Kirk of Scotland, which, you know, is one of the 
 most famous ecclesiastical courts in the world. I do not 
 at present expect to be able to visit the Highlands, but shall 
 go from Edinburgh to Glasgow, thence cross over to Ire 
 land, proceed to Dublin, and, upon our return, take South 
 Wales, &c., &c., to Oxford, on our way back to London. 
 
 " This may be the last letter I shall write from this side 
 of the water, as I shall embark immediately upon my re 
 turn from this tour. My love to my dear sisters and broth 
 er. Remember me to the aged saints at York. 
 
 " Your dear son, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MR. BUCKMINSTER S RETURN TO BOSTON. INCREASED AR 
 DOR IN HIS STUDIES. FRIENDSHIP AND ATTACHMENT 
 
 TO MR. WALTER. GRIEF AT HIS DEATH. 
 
 1807. O N the 10th of September, 1807, Mr. Buck- 
 Aged 23. minster returned to Boston. The extracts 
 from his letters to his family during his absence have 
 been presented in one connected series, not so much 
 for the importance of the subjects they touch upon, or 
 for their intrinsic value, but as they display his personal 
 feelings and his strong attachment to domestic associa 
 tions. There is in them no pride of learning or of in 
 tellect. The simplicity and openness of his intercourse 
 with his friends was perhaps the most marked trait of 
 his character, and exposed him sometimes, with those 
 those who did not know of the entire fidelity of his 
 manners to his inward impressions, to the charge of too 
 great frankness, or a violation of conventional forms. 
 
 The enchantments of the French capital could not 
 wean him from the hourly memory of those he had left 
 at home. Devoted as he was to theological studies, and 
 to the pursuits immediately connected with his profes 
 sion, he felt that the time was lost which did not aid him 
 in increasing the one or in promoting the other. So 
 deep was his sense of the duty of preserving his relig- 
 
298 RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 ious feelings fresh and unimpaired, that he was sparing 
 of indulgence even in the most innocent amusements of 
 Paris, lest they should impair the delicacy of his moral 
 perceptions ; yet never was there a person more free 
 from ostentatious observances, or who regarded with 
 deeper aversion an ascetical and morose morality. 
 
 At the time he visited England, there had been a 
 long interval of interrupted intercourse with this country, 
 and he was provided with very few letters of introduc 
 tion ; yet his circle of acquaintance soon became large, 
 and was increasing among the dignitaries of the Estab 
 lished Church, as well as with Dissenters. He excited 
 interest by the freshness and naivete of his character. 
 There was something about him that arrested the at 
 tention of strangers, and this attention quickly ripened 
 into friendship. 
 
 Friends sprang up wherever he went. In the hold 
 of the Dutch hoy, the conversation in broken Latin, 
 through the hours of a sleepless night, so riveted the at 
 tention of the worthy Swiss pastor, that he addressed 
 Latin letters to him after his return ; and, in the half- 
 civilized country of Brittany, filled with Chouans, and 
 people scarcely removed a step from barbarism, he 
 perpetually called forth the courtesy and kindness of 
 men whom he was willing to regard as brothers. 
 
 He had gained so much vigor that he entered with 
 new and ardent hopes of increased usefulness into every 
 field of duty. He seemed to feel that his parish had 
 new and double claims upon him, and that to all their 
 previous demands was now added a debt of fervent grati 
 tude. The sermon which he preached, the Sabbath after 
 his return, was closed with the following words : 
 
SERMON ON HIS RETURN. 299 
 
 "I see, my friends, that your expectations are increased, 
 and I feel that your just claims upon my future exertions 
 are also increased. I see that I have lost many apologies 
 which I could once command ; apologies for occasional in 
 dolence, and excuses for a thousand professional deficiencies, 
 with which the feebleness of our powers, or the frailty of 
 our natures, is not unfrequently chargeable. It is now too 
 plain, since you cannot grow more indulgent to me, I must 
 become less so to myself. I see, too, that, in addition to the 
 ordinary duties of a pastor, duties which he cannot in any 
 case fail to discharge, without the most criminal unfaithful 
 ness to his people, his Saviour, and his God, I have now 
 a large debt of gratitude to repay. And do I say this is 
 burdensome ? God forbid ! No, my friends. It shall in 
 cite, if it cannot strengthen, my exertions, and a thousand 
 labors, at which my former weakness might have murmured, 
 shall now become imperceptibly light and cheerful as Grati 
 tude herself. If it had pleased God to grant me a greater 
 confidence than I have been able to bring home of the con 
 firmation of my health, our joy, I think, would have been 
 full. But now, even now, I trust we shall have no reason 
 to regret on my part this temporary relaxation. I know 
 that, on yours, there has been no failure of regular relig 
 ious instruction, and that your own candor has left to you 
 nothing but kind anxiety for me, and to me nothing but 
 obligation and gratitude. Far hence, then, every inauspi 
 cious suggestion about futurity ! My grace, says Jesus to 
 the drooping Apostle, my grace is sufficient for thee. May 
 I not, then, like Paul, thank God and take courage ? " 
 
 In the words of another, 
 
 " He was welcomed by his society with unabated affec 
 tion and regard. But no praise ever seduced him to inter 
 mit his diligence. His books gave him an inexhaustible 
 source of interest and delight ; and as he was unavoidably 
 
300 RENEWED LABORS. 
 
 exposed to frequent interruptions during the day, bis studies 
 were protracted till midnight with fatal constancy. In the 
 inquiries peculiar to his profession he took increasing pleas 
 ure, and he has more than once told me, that he was fast 
 losing his taste for all other studies. In order that this 
 all-absorbing interest in theology should not wholly destroy 
 his relish for elegant letters, which he justly considered as 
 a valuable auxiliary to his ministerial influence, he continued 
 to lend his aid, as has been mentioned previously to his 
 voyage, to the Monthly Anthology, and to all the publica 
 tions of the day." * 
 
 His activity was now incessant. He gave his aid 
 not only his aid, but his most precious hours to every 
 object of public utility, to every literary and benevo 
 lent institution. These incessant calls made deep in 
 roads upon the time that he would gladly have given 
 to study, to the pursuits he loved best ; and he was com 
 pelled to redeem the hours from those which should 
 have been given to repose or to exercise. At this time 
 his studies were regularly protracted till after the mid 
 night hour, and followed, but not till a few years later, 
 with the feverish and restless night. 
 
 The sermons which he wrote during the two years 
 after his visit to Europe were perhaps superior to any 
 that he ever wrote ; they showed that his spiritual growth 
 had been rapid, that the roots had struck deeper, and that 
 the fruits enjoyed a serener and fresher atmosphere. 
 
 His sermons were usually written late at night, some 
 times even protracted into the small hours of the morn 
 ing. A note from the Hon. James Savage confirms 
 this statement. 
 
 * Thacher s Memoir. 
 
HABITS OF COMPOSITION. 301 
 
 u It was his habit, as you know, to give more labor 
 to the preparation of his sermons than his slender health 
 would justify ; at least, his diligence on Saturday night 
 was so long protracted, that, during one winter, I often 
 called in after ten o clock in the evening, to afford a 
 brief interruption. He would usually break off from 
 his sermon, and rejoice in the opportunity ; but he was 
 sometimes so absorbed in his work as to desire me to 
 permit him to continue, without change of posture, and 
 to begin my cigar alone, waiting some half hour for him 
 to unite in the indulgence. After I learned, however, 
 from his sister, that to finish his discourse was the em 
 ployment of the last minutes before the bell rang for 
 church on Sunday morning, that course was abandoned." 
 
 These sermons, that were committed to paper so late, 
 had been meditated much during the week. His sister 
 always knew when he was meditating his sermon, and did 
 not interrupt him, although the breakfast or supper were 
 wholly untasted. But when it was over and the sermon 
 preached, the exhilaration of his spirits was almost child 
 like. The gentleman already quoted, Mr. Savage, says, in 
 his note : " My memory associates him with every 
 thing gentle and cheerful in the intercourse between us 
 alone, and, when more were present, he deferred to them, 
 and was never willing to occupy so much of the time as 
 all desired him to appropriate. Some of the parishion 
 ers, perhaps not more than three or four, met at his study 
 Sunday evenings, after the fatigue of his services re 
 quired relaxation, and there he seemed truly in his 
 element, when contributing to the refreshment of his 
 guests at the slight supper, and still more after its close, 
 and perfectly rested, he could take a larger share in 
 the conversation." 
 26 
 
302 DEATH OF MR. WALTER. 
 
 There was indeed a circumstance which deeply affected 
 him, and deducted largely from his happiness upon his 
 return to Boston. This was the death of his friend, 
 Arthur Maynard Walter. The reader may remember 
 the strong expressions of his grief in his last letter to 
 his father upon hearing the sudden and appalling news 
 of his death. To this his father answers by the next 
 letter : "I anticipated the shock which the news of 
 the death of your friend would give you ; but from your 
 chirography and expressions, I believe it was more se 
 vere than it ought to have been ; and was perhaps more 
 unexpected than anything ought to be in this world of 
 uncertainty and death. We should always reflect that 
 our friends are mortal, and that we know not what 
 a day may bring forth ; we should form our friend 
 ships and connections under this impression, and enjoy 
 and improve them accordingly." 
 
 Walter seems to have been the dearest and most in 
 timate of his friends. His character was such as to 
 inspire a warm attachment in a large circle. He was 
 some years older than Buckrninster, and two years be 
 fore him in college ; and was one of those who noticed 
 and encouraged his younger associate, and perhaps was 
 ready to protect him from the inconveniences to which 
 his small stature and youthful appearance might have 
 exposed him. He was repaid with warm gratitude and 
 an enduring attachment. His death also was the first 
 deep wound of the affections which my brother had ever 
 received, at an age, too, when the heart is most sus 
 ceptible of the tenderness of friendship. A philosopher 
 asks, " Can another be so blessed, and we so pure, 
 that we can offer him tenderness ? " Such seems to 
 have been the feeling of these friends to each other ; 
 
LAST LETTER OF MR. WALTER. 303 
 
 and as neither of them was absorbed by ties of a more 
 selfish nature, God seems to have given them each to 
 the other. 
 
 The last letter that Walter wrote was to his friend, in 
 anticipation of his return ; and, as it presents many char 
 acteristics, a part of it is here inserted. 
 
 " November, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR FRIEND, By our calculations, you will have 
 reached London, after your jaunt on the Continent, before 
 this can arrive in England. I hope you have been spirit 
 ualized amid the scenery of Switzerland ; I know you must 
 have been enchanted with the situation and fertility of 
 France and Brabant. I hope you are now beginning seri 
 ously to think of recrossing the Atlantic and settling for 
 life among those whom you love. In my solitary moments, I 
 sometimes dwell on the comparative pleasures of London 
 and Paris, and on the singular movements which the mind 
 experiences among various nations, severally and strangely 
 distinguished by customs, manners, laws, and modes of 
 faith. AH these feelings and pleasures, caused and adorned 
 by novelty or mystery, have, in America, attracted my 
 mind at different times towards the, nations of Europe, and 
 Duty has exercised her strong dictates to prevent their 
 powerful and effectual operation. But I acquire submis 
 sion, if not contentment ; and when I wish I were in Lon 
 don or Paris, I consider that I ought to remain where I am. 
 These bursts of romance and regret you will experience 
 after your return ; but your principles of religion will give 
 you perfect tranquillity. Yet, indeed, I hope to visit Europe 
 again, but I shall not do it till I am perfectly able in every 
 respect. I love to keep my mind quiet, and yet in a little 
 state of agitation to prevent drowsiness or too great relaxa 
 tion. I have missed you very much, and still feel your 
 absence, as having taken a large sum from the amount of 
 
304 LETTER UPON THE DEATH 
 
 my happiness; but I have Adam Smith s constituents of 
 felicity, health, a good conscience, and am in no man s 
 debt ; and as there is a great deal of affectation in com 
 plaint, I do not mean to be guilty of such folly ; for I can 
 truly say I am quite happy. I have every reason to be 
 contented. I hope, also, I am not ungrateful to the Giver 
 
 of every good and every perfect gift 
 
 " The Anthology Club is large enough. I hate large 
 associations, there is no mingling of mind in great com 
 panies. 1 beg that you will return pretty soon, and take 
 your place among us. I don t know whether I told you of 
 my having found a fine cigar in your room, which I smoked 
 to your health and happiness ; but I want to smoke another 
 with you in your study. I love the tales of old times. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 "A. M. WALTER." 
 
 When his friend received this letter, the warm heart 
 of the writer had ceased to beat. The following letter 
 will show with what grief the event was regarded by 
 the bereaved wanderer. 
 
 " London, January 22d, 1807. 
 
 " O, MY DEAR FRIEND ! * My heart is full of anguish ! 
 Mr. Thacher has just handed me his brother s letter, which 
 informs us of Walter s death. Walter dead ! I cannot 
 believe it! I cannot believe it! The transition of my mind 
 from the highest delight to the greatest distress is too vio 
 lent to be realized at present. I had just arrived in Lon 
 don, delighted with having escaped at last from France, 
 and burning with impatience to open my letters from Ameri 
 ca ; and, in this state of excitement, I am told Walter is 
 dead ! O, dear, dear Walter ! Have I lost you for ever ? 
 
 * To William S. Shaw, Esq. 
 
OF MR. WALTER. 305 
 
 Alas ! I am ashamed of myself, of the weakness of my faith ! 
 When I left you all to come to Europe, the parting was in 
 deed painful, but continually relieved by the belief that 
 I should see you all again, after some time of absence. I 
 ought to feel that it is the same thing now with respect to 
 Walter, that I shall see him again, the absence only a 
 little lengthened. The voyage of my own life will not be 
 long, and we shall meet again ! Last May, I took leave of 
 him for a year only. I could not anticipate that our sepa 
 ration would be so much prolonged ; but now I feel that I 
 ought to have been prepared for it. Dear Walter ! I 
 suspect the last letter he ever wrote was addressed to me. 
 Alas ! I cannot read it without tears. I have been writing 
 to him by every opportunity. Ah, they are letters which 
 he will never read ! My dear Shaw, how I wish I were 
 with you, to give vent to my sorrow ! I cannot do it on 
 paper. It is a cold, idle, slow method ; and instead of re 
 lieving, it oppresses me. I look to the great promises and 
 expectations which the Gospel holds out ; they tell me I 
 shall meet him again in a world more worthy of his noble, 
 pure, pious. heart than this, if I should ever be worthy to 
 reach that world myself. But the great duty now is to resign 
 ourselves to this heavy loss, till we meet him again. Even 
 Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, though he knew that 
 his power could restore him again to life. Behold, how 
 he loved him ! said the Jews. We surely may weep. Alas ! 
 
 we may go to him, but he cannot return to us ! 
 
 " My friend, I can write no more at present. I shall 
 endeavour to busy myself about your commissions,* and 
 dissipate a little the heavy cloud which hangs over my mind. 
 O, my friend, how much is subtracted from our hopes of 
 future enjoyment ! The recollection of Walter, whenever 
 it occurs in writing, or in conversation about America, or 
 
 * Purchasing books for the Athenaeum. ^ 
 
 26* 
 
306 CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 n my solitary reveries about future pleasures and past 
 friendships, really oppresses me. 
 
 4 Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus 
 Tarn cari capitis ? " 
 
 In the sermon which he wrote upon Christian friend 
 ship, from the example of Jesus and John, printed in 
 the second volume of his Works, Walter seems to have 
 been in his mind throughout. An extract from this 
 sermon follows : 
 
 " It is said that friendship is nowhere recommended to 
 us in the New Testament. True, it is not; and here, I 
 think, is a singular proof of the thorough knowledge which 
 our Saviour possessed of the human heart, and especially 
 of the virtuous affections. For is it not easy to see that it 
 would have been absurd to enjoin particular friendships 
 upon any man, as a necessary part of his Christian or 
 moral character ? That which is peculiar to this attach 
 ment, as it is distinguished from general good- will, is not 
 a thing which depends on a man s voluntary exertions. No 
 man can go out into the world and say, I will have a 
 friend. This, like other connections in life, depends upon 
 circumstances beyond our control. It depends, not merely 
 upon a man s generous benevolence of character, but upon 
 a fortunate consent of affections, and harmony of interests, 
 which a man may live long in the world and not be so 
 happy as to meet. It requires such a concert of tastes 
 and passions, such a length and frequency of intercourse, 
 such a candor and unreservedness of mind, as we may not 
 easily find in thousands whom we yet greatly esteem, and 
 in many more with whom we are disposed to live on the 
 common terms of peace and good neighbourhood. To 
 have enjoined, then, a social attachment like this, as a sub- 
 
CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 307 
 
 ject of duty, or as an essential obligation on every man, 
 whatever may be his circumstances, is an absurdity of 
 which Jesus and his disciples could not have been guilty ; 
 and yet this omission has been charged upon the friend of 
 John and Lazarus, as a defect in his religion. Many, I doubt 
 not, are the Christians who have passed through this world 
 of frequent changes and various characters, and yet have 
 never chanced to meet a real friend. Many more are there 
 who have wept over the grave of one long known and loved ; 
 but alas ! as they have not the power to awake him from 
 his slumbers, so too they have not been so fortunate as ever 
 afterwards to replace him. 
 
 " If, my friends, we would practise this virtue (if it must 
 be so named) in all its purity, and enjoy our fondest attach 
 ments in perfection, we must call in to our aid the religion 
 of Christ. Tell us not of the heroic friendships of ancient 
 story, when it was thought generous to sacrifice a whole 
 nation for an injury to a friend, and when the duties of this 
 attachment were exalted above all other obligations, and 
 allowed to break every other tie, and benevolence itself 
 was lost in the despotism of private love. Tell us not of 
 those modern connections, which demand of us in honor 
 to sacrifice one man s life to vindicate another s from false 
 imputations ; or of the numerous pitiful unions of wicked 
 men for purposes of interest or indulgence, of conviviality 
 or temporary convenience. These have as little to do with 
 affection as with religion. True Christian regard is as dif 
 ferent from all this as lust from pure love, or bodily strength 
 from real courage. The only perfect union of minds is that 
 which is animated, corrected, and matured by the evangel 
 ical spirit of Christianity. Why ? Because their faith 
 and hopes are not only one through their present destiny, 
 but because man has interests and hopes in eternity dearer 
 and greater than any temporal well-being; and that union 
 of minds into which eternity enters not, and makes no part 
 
308 
 
 CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 of their common hopes, must be essentially defective ; be 
 cause this idea, rendering the affection which it influences 
 more sublime and more animating, must make it superior 
 to any temporary union of views and purposes, how many 
 years soever may have cemented it. You anticipate the 
 company of your friend to-morrow ; the Christian not to 
 morrow only, but for ever. 
 
 " Farther. The essential temper of Christianity is self- 
 distrust ; and it is the very charm of friendship to love to re 
 pose on another s knowledge and affection. The greatest 
 foe of grace is pride ; pride also cannot coexist with generous, 
 
 undisguised, unqualified affection It is also the 
 
 tendency of our religion to exhaust those sources of jealousy 
 and distrust which so often embitter our tenderest and dear 
 est connections. A Christian, knowing his own infirmities, 
 will not expect too much, even from him he loves best. 
 He has none of that pride that takes offence at fancied 
 neglects ; and he sees the folly and the sin of requiring 
 from another such an illiberal attachment to himself as shall 
 confine all his friend s sacrifices to himself and exclude the 
 rest of the world from his attention. It therefore appears 
 to me, that, to make friendship perfect, Christianity was neces 
 sary ; because this alone teaches us the sinfulness of wish 
 ing for such a monopoly of affection as is demanded by 
 some narrow minds, and is so contrary to the genius of the 
 Gospel 
 
 " In fine, where the affection between two minds is not 
 influenced by a sense of a present and all-gracious Father 
 in heaven ; where they have no communion of mind upon 
 the most interesting of human contemplations, God, Jesus, 
 and the life to come ; where the tomb, when it has closed 
 upon one of them, is thought to have separated them for 
 ever; where the all-sanctifying grace of the Gospel does 
 not mould their desires, correct and unite their dispositions 
 in humility and Christian love, there may be fondness, there 
 
CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 309 
 
 may be momentary satisfaction, there may be partiality, 
 but there is no friendship, such as existed between Jesus 
 and John ; such, in fact, as that for which Jesus prayed, 
 when he said, Holy Father, keep, through thine own 
 name, those whom thou hast given me, that they may be 
 one, as we are. 
 
 " My Christian friends, if you have found one who leans 
 on your breast, and you are not afraid that he should listen 
 to the secrets that disturb it ; if wisdom and virtue have di 
 rected you to him ; if ardent love of truth, generous ac 
 commodation to each other, fear of God, attachment to the 
 Gospel of Jesus, and hope of everlasting life, have bound 
 you together, O, cherish such a union of minds ! The 
 grace of Jesus Christ will temper every desire of your 
 hearts and mellow your affections by the gentle influence 
 of his Gospel ; your interests will more closely intertwine 
 as you draw nearer to the grave, and become more detached 
 from the surrounding distractions of the world ; and the 
 tomb, when it closes upon you, shall not separate you ; for, 
 as God is true, i them that sleep with Jesus will God bring 
 with him. Jesus, who once raised a friend from the tomb, 
 will not let it close for ever on those who love him, and 
 who love like him." 
 
 Three years after, when my brother pronounced the 
 oration before the Society of the Phi Beta Kappa, Wal 
 ter was fresh in his memory. There are some, perhaps, 
 who can remember the fervent and chastened emotion 
 with which he pronounced these words : 
 
 " Do you want examples of learned Christians ? I could 
 not recount them in an age. You need not be told that 
 
 Learning has borne such fruits, in other days, 
 On all her branches; piety has found 
 
310 TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF MR. WALTER. 
 
 Friends in the friends of science ; and true prayer 
 Has flowed from lips wet witli Castalian dews. * 
 
 " Yes, it has ! We have known and loved such men, 
 and, thank God ! have been loved by them. There is now 
 present to my mind the ima^e of a scholar, whom some 
 of you knew (for he was one of us) ; and those who knew 
 him well will say with me, he was as pure a spirit as 
 ever tasted the dews of Castalia. How would Walter have 
 delighted in this anniversary ! He would have heard me ! 
 me, who am now left to speak of him only, and ask for 
 him the tribute, the passing tribute of your grateful recol 
 lection ! He would have heard me ! It may be that he 
 hears me now, and is pleased with this tribute. 
 
 Manibus date lilia plenis; 
 Purpureos spargam flores animamque amici 
 His saltern accumulem donis, et fungar inani 
 Munere. " t 
 
 There are other tributes to the memory of Walter 
 scattered throughout his papers. Indeed, if the time 
 were pointed out when he appeared most happy, most 
 worthy of admiration, most radiant with all the riches 
 of his nature, it was in the intimate intercourse with 
 friends. Then was his fine countenance inspired with 
 thoughts and emotions that needed no restraint ; he 
 poured out the riches of his imagination, and the hoarded 
 treasures of thought, softened by the tenderness and 
 perfect reliance of friendship. He had in an eminent 
 degree the childlike character of genius ; his naivete 
 
 *Cowper s Task, 
 t vEn., Lib. VI. 
 
 " Bring fragrant flowers, the whitest lilies bring, 
 With all the purple beauties of the spring; 
 On the dear youth, to please his shade below, 
 This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow ! " 
 
 Dryden and Pitt. 
 
FRIENDS OF BUCKMINSTER. 311 
 
 was understood only by those who regarded him with 
 the partiality of friendship. His countenance and man 
 ner reflected with the utmost fidelity his transient and 
 passing feelings. He would be suddenly stopped in the 
 midst of an animated conversation by a formal or affected 
 truism ; he would shrink into himself and silence, at 
 the envious or malignant remarks of a selfish person ; 
 he felt depressed in the presence of bigotry or hypoc 
 risy. How necessary was it for such a nature to be 
 protected by the disinterested observation of friendship ! 
 His lively sympathy, when another or himself had given 
 pleasure by an intellectual effort, was often mistaken 
 for vanity by those who did not understand the peculiar 
 simplicity of his character. He would listen with as 
 much pleasure to the commendation of his friends after 
 any arduous public exhibition, or an effort where much 
 had been expected of him, as though it were the first 
 he had ever made. Reflecting, as he must always have 
 done, upon the certain, and almost at any time possible, 
 influence of his well-known malady, he trembled Jest 
 his friends should discern a confirmation of his own 
 ever-whispering warnings in any of his public exhibitions, 
 and therefore listened with anxious delight to their hon 
 est praises. He threw himself, as it were, upon the 
 sincerity and tenderness of friendship, to guard his repu 
 tation, and to inform him of the first shadow that could 
 dim its lustre. Never was confidence in friends met 
 with a more generous return. I could scarcely enu 
 merate those who loved him while living, and honored 
 his memory with their tears and their eulogy. Among 
 the foremost were Thacher, Kirkland, Savage, Nor 
 ton, Lowell, Elliot ; and, of those who were younger, 
 to whom he looked forward himself as friends of his 
 
312 DK. KIRKLAND. 
 
 maturer life, Ticknor, Everett, Palfrey, it might 
 almost have been said of them, as of a bereaved father 
 at the loss of his son, that they would not exchange their 
 dead friend for others living ones. 
 
 Perhaps the friend who shared the most of his con 
 fidence, after his return from Europe, was the Rev. 
 S. C. Thacher. The strength of their attachment sur 
 vived that which is said to be the severest test of either 
 love or friendship, travelling and voyaging together. 
 After their return, no day passed that they did not meet 
 in the study of Buckminster, and they usually dined 
 together. Their literary efforts were submitted each 
 to the supervision of the other ; and they maintained 
 the most jealous watch over each other s literary repu 
 tation. Mr. Thacher fulfilled, with exquisite tender 
 ness, taste, and beauty, the duty of surviving friendship, 
 in the memoir prefixed to the first volume of " Buckmin- 
 ster s Sermons. 7 Their names have since lived united 
 in hearts of sensibility, twined together by the fragrant 
 wreath with which a kindred genius has bound them.* 
 
 The two friends stood together in the same relation 
 to another, whose memory should not be allowed to die 
 out of the record of those whose hearts were comforted 
 by his kindness, or whose characters were improved by 
 his counsels. Dr. Kirkland was fifteen years older 
 than Buckminster, and eleven years his senior in col 
 lege ; Thacher was a year younger, and four years after 
 him in the records of Alma Mater : both these young 
 men appeared as younger brothers to Dr. Kirkland. 
 During all the time which has elapsed since the death 
 of the latter, friendship and admiration have not attempted 
 
 * Rev. F. W. P. Greenwood, in his Memoir of Rev. Samuel Coop 
 er Thacher. 
 
DR. K1RKLAND. 313 
 
 to perpetuate his memory by a selection from his ad 
 mirably wise discourses. Where shall the next genera 
 tion search for memorials of Kirkland, in order to em 
 balm his memory before it shall have faded away ? * 
 
 There are some still living who remember the noble 
 and venerable qualities of Dr. Kirkland, who remem 
 ber how he united, in a beautiful approximation, "the 
 kindest affections with the very spirit of wisdom, the 
 keenest discernment with the gentlest judgment of human 
 infirmities." He was truly a wise man, for wisdom 
 is that exercise of the reason into which the heart en 
 ters ; and if any infirmities were discerned in the exer 
 cise of his judgment, they arose from the too large 
 proportion of heart which entered in, and perhaps dis 
 turbed the equilibrium of the clearest intellect. His 
 insight into character was most penetrating ; he could 
 command the nicest dissecting powers, capable of di 
 viding the germs of good which lie in every character 
 from the mass of evil with which education and circum 
 stance has involved them. His sarcasm was pungent, 
 but his kindness of heart forbade him often to use its di 
 amond point. He saw through the motives of men s 
 actions, even before they were themselves aware from 
 what point they sprang ; and how often was a young 
 person first made acquainted with an unconscious fault 
 or foible, by the delicacy of the keen remark that apolo 
 gized for it, or the still keener irony which defended it ! 
 He rarely entered into disputation or argument, but 
 he saw the whole field of controversy ; and such was 
 his gentleness and urbanity, that he seemed to yield 
 
 * Dr. Young s funeral sermon was indeed a tribute of admiration 
 and friendship. 
 
 27 
 
314 DR. KIRKLAND. 
 
 to others at the very moment he was leading them to 
 clearer views ; and the light that he threw upon a sub 
 ject, bringing his opponent out of his difficulties, seemed 
 to the disputant to have arisen in his own mind, and 
 he to remain master of the victory which Dr. Kirkland 
 had taught him how to win. If hypocrisy and cant 
 drew from him a keen sarcasm, cruelty and ingratitude 
 excited indignation which sometimes found expression 
 in the strongest terms of reprobation and contempt. 
 His aphorisms in conversation partook of the mingled 
 irony of Rochefoucault and the tender humor of Sterne. 
 Could he have condescended to admit the admiration 
 of a Boswell, what a rich store of anecdote and shrewd 
 remark might have been preserved, as it dropped from 
 his lips in the quiet bonhommie of familiar conversation ! 
 His character should be drawn by an able and dis 
 criminating pen. May we not hope, that, beside the 
 cold and perishable marble, which is now the only me 
 morial of him, we may have a living portrait, drawn by 
 the heart-inspired hand of genius, which shall conse 
 crate his memory in the hearts of those who loved him, 
 and make him known to other generations ? 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 J. S. BUCKMINSTER. HIS INTEREST IN PERIODICAL LITERA 
 TURE. AND IN SACRED LITERATURE. BEGINNING OF 
 
 UNITARIAN CONTROVERSY. EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. 
 
 1808. THE year 1808 was one of great activity 
 
 Aged 24. j n tne life of the son and of great interest in 
 that of the father. The former begins it by recording 
 in his journal his desire to find and read those books 
 that induce to Christian union. Nearly at this period 
 began the controversy in the churches which resulted in 
 their disunion. He was one of those who as ardently 
 desired union as Lord Falkland desired peace in the 
 great civil war ; and yet, had he lived, he must inevitably 
 have taken his part in the protest which one portion of 
 the Church were compelled to make against what they 
 considered existing errors. Their protest was not made 
 till these errors were beginning to be established, as 
 they thought, by being made part of creeds to be sub 
 scribed, contrary to the spirit of freedom in the New 
 England churches. 
 
 Mr. Buckminster was now twenty-four years old, the 
 age when men are just beginning a course of action 
 which is to result in the benefit and improvement of 
 their fellow-men. It is with most persons the flowering 
 time of life, and according as the bloom is rich and 
 abundant will be the beauty and excellence of the fruit 
 
316 CHANGES IN SOCIETY. 
 
 in after years. Dr. Charming, who was certainly one 
 of the most remarkable men among his contemporaries, 
 was settled at twenty-three, and had just begun his 
 beneficent work. With Mr. Buckminster, also, it was 
 but the beginning of life, and, had he lived to old age, 
 he would probably have looked back to the produce 
 of these years as but of immature and unripe fruit, the 
 feeble commencement of a future, but abundant, harvest. 
 He mentions in his journal being much moved by Mr. 
 Channing s sermon upon Ministerial Zeal, at the ordina 
 tion of Mr. John Codman, and records a prayer that 
 it may have its proper effect upon his heart. 
 
 Both these young men entered upon active life at a 
 period when great changes were taking place in the 
 community of which they were members. For half a 
 century, the active and the educated intellect of the 
 country had been absorbed by subjects connected with 
 the war of Independence, and the excitement of mind 
 produced by the principles of the French Revolution. 
 Things had now settled, after the tumult and terror of 
 the war. Men felt the security of property ; pros 
 perity, and peace, and leisure made them begin to look 
 about them for higher sources of enjoyment than mere 
 ly ostentatious pleasures, or the luxuries of social life. 
 The greater part, perhaps, were absorbed in what is said 
 to be an exciting occupation, the accumulation of prop 
 erty, adding dollar to dollar, and acre to acre ; but 
 there were others, who wished for purer pleasures and 
 more elevating enjoyments. To both these young men 
 belongs the honor of being leaders in the social move 
 ment which began about this period of time. 
 
 The first change, perhaps, was a new impulse given 
 to literature by a new zeal in the acquisition of libra- 
 
PERIODICAL LITERATURE. 317 
 
 ries, and the regular and systematic importation from 
 abroad of periodical literature, monthly publications 
 and reviews, and the establishment of reading-rooms 
 where they could readily be found, the importation 
 of classical authors, as well as of the current publications 
 of the day. Now also began the establishment of re 
 views of our own, magazines of a superior and solid 
 character, and the beginning of an expression of an 
 opinion of our own upon literary and critical matters, 
 instead of an entire reliance upon authority. At this 
 time, also, there commenced an interest in what are called 
 critical studies, the philosophical and analytical study of 
 the classics and the Scriptures. For all these objects 
 Mr. Buckminster felt the warmest attachment, and the 
 last was his favorite and most especial pursuit. 
 
 The fortunate circumstance of a pecuniary bequest 
 from his maternal grandfather, Dr. Stevens, who, from 
 a salary of a hundred pounds, laid up some thousands 
 of dollars, which were husbanded, during his grandson s 
 minority, by the most faithful of guardians, Judge Sew- 
 all, of York, enabled him, as soon as it came into his 
 hands, to indulge an innocent passion, by the importation 
 of English books. While he was at Exeter, he had, 
 with great trouble, contrived to obtain the Monthly Re 
 view, usually receiving six or twelve numbers at one 
 time. His chief occupation in Paris was collecting 
 with great care and diligence a library of choice books, 
 connected with his favorite studies ; in the purchase of 
 which, he spent nearly all his little fortune. He thus 
 remarks upon this expenditure in a letter to his father : 
 " If I should be cut off from the use of these luxuries 
 of the mind, they will be a treasure to those who suc- 
 27* 
 
318 PERIODICAL LITERATURE. 
 
 ceed me, like the hoards of a miser scattered after his 
 death." 
 
 This library of three thousand volumes was unique * 
 in its character, such as few of his profession could 
 then have profitably employed, though they could ap 
 preciate its value ; and it was always as accessible for 
 the use of his brethren in the profession as for his own. 
 It was certainly characteristic of his devotion to his 
 favorite studies, that, while his library at that time was 
 more valuable than that of any private individual in 
 Boston, the furniture of his parsonage, and his estab 
 lishment of domestic luxuries, were frugal almost to the 
 degree of inconvenience. 
 
 The second object of public interest, in which he took 
 a most active part, was the publication of periodical lit 
 erature. He was one of the principal promoters of the 
 Literary Miscellany, a monthly magazine, conducted 
 by gentlemen who were his immediate friends. The 
 first number was published in July, 1803, and in this 
 was printed the first production of his pen which was 
 given to the press, a review of u Millar s Retrospect 
 of the Eighteenth Century." This Miscellany enjoyed 
 but the short life of one year, and was succeeded by 
 the Monthly Anthology, of which a full account has 
 been given in other pages. Ten volumes of the An 
 thology were published, in all of which there were pro 
 ductions of more or less value from his pen. In 1812, 
 this was worthily succeeded by the General Repository 
 and Review, edited by Mr. Norton. This was intended 
 as the vehicle of learned discussions and responsible 
 reviews The writer cannot, of course, speak of the 
 
 * See Appendix. 
 
GRIESBACH S GREEK TESTAMENT. 319 
 
 merit of the long article from her brother s pen, in the 
 second number, the translation of a learned paper in 
 Schleusner s Lexicon, occupying twenty-one sheets of 
 letter-paper in his handwriting. It shows that he must 
 have nearly left the sweet and varied walks of general 
 literature for the thorny paths of learned criticism. 
 
 In this year, 1808, he engaged, in conjunction with 
 his friend, Mr. William Wells, and under the patronage 
 of the University of Cambridge, in the publication of 
 Griesbach s Greek Testament, containing a selection of 
 the most important various readings. This work passed 
 under his most careful revision, in the course of which 
 several errors in the original were discovered and cor 
 rected. 
 
 Mr. William Wells, the publisher of Griesbach, 
 writes : 
 
 " The last proofs of the Cambridge edition of the Greek 
 Testament were revised by him, and this contributed greatly 
 to its extreme correctness. Not the smallest mark or ac 
 cent escaped his penetrating eye, and his accuracy often 
 excited much surprise in the printing office. He was ac 
 tive in the publication and distribution of Unitarian books 
 and tracts, and contributed largely to these objects from his 
 own resources, as well as from funds supplied by his 
 friends. 
 
 " I believe that the American edition of Griesbach may 
 be safely said not to yield the palm of accuracy to any 
 which has been published in Europe." 
 
 A letter to him from a clergyman in England says : 
 
 " I envy the American press the honor of being the first to 
 reprint that valuable edition ; and the more, as a pocket 
 edition of the Greek Testament is now printing in England, 
 
320 GRIESBACH S GREEK TESTAMENT. 
 
 from Griesbach s second edition, which will therefore want 
 the corrections of the author, which are inserted in your 
 German edition. Yours does infinite credit to the American 
 press." 
 
 " Proposals were also issued for a supplementary volume 
 to Griesbach, to contain an English translation of the Prole 
 gomena to his large critical edition, the authorities for his 
 variations from the received text, and some dissertations, 
 original and selected, on subjects connected with the criti 
 cism of the Bible. Some progress was made in preparing 
 this work by Mr. Buckminster and one of his friends, but, 
 as he did not give his name to the proposals, they did not 
 receive sufficient encouragement to induce him to persevere. 
 In 1810, he formed the plan of publishing all the best mod 
 ern versions of the prophetical books of the Old Testament. 
 He proposed to use the version of Bishop Lowth for Isaiah, 
 with the various renderings of Dodson and Stock in the 
 margin where they differ from Lowth. The major proph 
 ets were to be completed by Blayney s version of Jeremiah 
 and Lamentations, Newcome s version of Ezekiel, and 
 Wintle s of Daniel, with Blayney s of the Seventy Weeks. 
 Newcome s translation of the minor prophets was to have 
 followed, with variations from Horseley s Hosea, Benjoin s 
 Jonah, and Blayney s Zechariah. After this, he hoped to 
 have been able to give an additional volume, containing the 
 most important notes and preliminary dissertations to the 
 several books. The whole design, however, I am almost 
 ashamed to say, failed, for want of a sufficient taste for 
 these studies among our countrymen." * 
 
 Of another and more important change, affecting the 
 relation of the churches to each other and to society, 
 the introduction of views of Christian doctrine differing 
 
 * Thacher s Memoir. 
 
CHURCHES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 321 
 
 from those of the first Puritan churches, the writer con 
 ceives that this is not the place to speak, except so far as 
 the suhjects of these memoirs were concerned in them. 
 Every one the least acquainted with our ecclesiastical 
 history must be aware that there had been, from the 
 time of the establishment of Brattle Street Church in 
 Boston, a gradual relaxation from the strict Calvinism 
 of our fathers. Certainly that church, when it agreed 
 to omit all relation of religious experiences, as unessen 
 tial to admission, made as large an advance towards 
 liberality as has been, at any one step, effected since. 
 It is known to those who are moderately well informed 
 on this subject, that, about the middle of the last cen 
 tury, a change became apparent in the views of many 
 of the clergy of New England, touching those doc 
 trines that had been deemed essential, and were usually 
 considered orthodox. This change was gradual, and 
 almost imperceptible. It did not amount at once to 
 the adoption of distinct anti-trinitarian conceptions, but 
 the tenecs of strict Calvinism lost their hold upon 
 the minds of ministers and people, and the orthodox 
 creed was embraced with great reservations. Some of 
 the prominent ministers of the churches were called 
 " Arminians," moderate Calvinists," " Arians." 
 Had not political events, and the exigencies of the 
 struggle for independence, absorbed the whole of the 
 educated mind of the country, it seems as though that 
 division in the churches must have inevitably taken 
 place then, which was postponed half a century. 
 
 The change in theological opinion has been as gradual 
 as most other changes, and the result of free inquiry has 
 been a new growth, the healthful development from the 
 deep roots of the tree of life. Calvinism lost its hold 
 
322 LETTER OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 
 
 upon the minds of the laity quite as soon as it failed 
 to satisfy their ministers. " It had died down to the 
 roots," as a late writer observes, c< before the axe had 
 touched it." The evidences of its powerless and in 
 operative state were lamented by its friends before more 
 simple and evangelical views of the religion of Christ 
 brought back the revolted mind of the churches to the 
 doctrines of the Bible, rather than to those of Calvin. 
 
 The following letter, written by Dr. Buckminster 
 fifty years ago, in answer to one from Dr. Morse, la 
 menting the falling off of the ministers from orthodox 
 preaching, confesses, also, that the doctrines of Calvin 
 affright the people and empty the churches. It dis 
 closes a state of things which is not generally acknowl 
 edged by either party, that the people took the lead in 
 liberal views, and would not listen to Calvinistic 
 preaching. 
 
 ; I lament the state of things to which it appears to me 
 a departure from true evangelical principles, and a silence 
 respecting the peculiarly humbling, awakening, and affecting 
 doctrines of the Gospel, in the public teachers of it, have 
 
 contributed their full share Is it not too true that 
 
 ministers leave the humiliating state of man as a fallen and 
 apostate creature, his helplessness and danger, the glorious 
 character of Christ as a DIVINE person, the special influences 
 of the Spirit, the necessity of regeneration, and the awful 
 prospects of the impenitent and unbelieving, out of their 
 public discourses, and fill them with philosophical disquisi 
 tions, moral essays, and popular harangues? I don t know 
 but many may do this from an honest, but, in my view, 
 very erroneous apprehension, that it will serve to remove 
 the objections of some amiable moral characters, and con 
 ciliate them to the Gospel. But what advantage is it to 
 
TO DR. MORSE. 323 
 
 conciliate them to a Gospel that is not the Gospel of Christ, 
 and fails of the energies necessary to make them holy and 
 happy ? It appears to me the charges and descriptions, 
 contained in that most excellent treatise of Mr. Wilberforce, 
 are as applicable to us as to the country for which he 
 wrote. Defects in principle are more dangerous and de 
 structive than in practice. They are like a disease at the 
 heart. A diseased limb may be amputated ; a stream pol 
 luted by accidental filth in its channel may be easily 
 cleansed ; but where the fountain is impure, all labor upofl 
 the stream will be wholly thrown away. The fountain must 
 be cleansed, the heart must be healed. If ministers are 
 really concerned and distressed, and would seek a remedy, 
 they must return in their preaching to the terrors of the 
 law and the grace of the Gospel ; they must preach the 
 plain doctrines of revelation, and with boldness and candor 
 address to the consciences of men the awful and the alluring 
 motives therein contained ; and represent sin, as it is most 
 clearly represented in the Gospel, as such an evil that noth 
 ing short of the interposition of a DIVINE person could atone 
 its guilt oi remove its malignant effects. Many persons ap 
 prehend that such preaching would affright people from the 
 Gospel, and empty our churches and religious assemblies at 
 once. Duty is ours, events are God^. We must preach 
 the preaching that God bids us, and appeal to the law and 
 to the testimony. The truth sanctifies ; error may please, 
 but it cannot profit. 
 
 " But is there nothing to be done by us ? we may ask. 
 Those who fear God must speak often to one another upon 
 the things of God, and pray most earnestly for themselves 
 and brethren ; and, as the high priest always offered for 
 his own sins before he did for the sins of the people, would 
 it not be commendable for us ministers to have days of 
 private social fasting, and let them be spent as days of real 
 humiliation and not of conviviality ? Might not association 
 
324 THE CHARGE OF CONCEALMENT OF OPINIONS. 
 
 meetings be so improved ? After this, we might with 
 greater confidence and hope of success have more public 
 seasons of prayer, following up our devotions with the spirit 
 of divine things in all our commerce with the world. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 1 should need to make an apology for the 
 freedom with which I have written, did it not afford the 
 strongest proof of the entire confidence I have in you, as 
 a faithful, sincere, and experienced servant of Jesus Christ. 
 May God be with you and your brethren, and direct you 
 in the subject of your inquiries, the result of which I shall 
 be obliged to you to communicate to your friend and 
 brother, 
 
 " J. BUCKMINSTEH. 
 
 "April 24th, 1799." 
 
 The above letter was written fifty years ago. Does 
 fa not imply that ministers had ceased to preach the 
 humiliating doctrines, that is, the doctrines of Calvin 
 ism, and that, in the opinion of one who retained this 
 faith, it was because they would " affright people, and 
 empty at once the churches and religious assemblies " ? 
 It is more honorable to all the ministers of Boston and 
 the vicinity, and probably more true, that they had ceased 
 to believe in Calvinism, and therefore ceased to preach 
 it. It would be invidious, and, with all the light 
 thrown upon the last fifty years, it would be unjust, to 
 say that any continued to believe in Calvinism, and con 
 cealed their faith because it would empty their churches. 
 But, as it has been so often asked why those whose 
 faith in orthodoxy was shaken did not come forward at 
 once and make confession, may we not with equal perti 
 nence ask, why did not Calvinists, who continued such, 
 assert their sentiments previous to the conclusion of the 
 last century, and in the beginning of this ? One of their 
 
PURITAN INFLUENCES. 325 
 
 own number says they did not, and we are justified in 
 saying, either that they concealed their sentiments for 
 fear of emptying their churches, or that Calvinism had 
 lost its hold upon the societies, and that it was only 
 as the faith of a party that its spirit was resuscitated. 
 
 Of the younger subject of this memoir, it is well 
 known that his earliest years were spent under the in 
 fluences of Calvinism ; and, however its stern features 
 may have been softened by the mingling with them of the 
 aspect of paternal love, that form of religion was asso 
 ciated with all his tender youthful feelings of devotion. 
 Whoever has passed the early part of life in New Eng 
 land can hardly fail to look back upon some one of his 
 ancestors, a descendant of those tl strong-hearted and 
 God-fearing " Puritans, who has been to him the vener 
 able type of Calvinistic religion, some one who looked 
 with sad or stern displeasure upon all innovation on 
 the Genevan formulas, and upon all relaxation of the 
 Puritan discipline of life. Conscientious and faithful to 
 his first convictions, the morning and evening came to 
 him burdened with prayers for the sins and follies which 
 he saw everywhere around him. His belief in the total 
 depravity of his fellow-men, and of his own children,, 
 was strangely at variance with the tenderness of his 
 heart, and the indulgence of his hopefulness. He af 
 firmed that the grace of God alone could change the 
 disposition to evil, and impart a saving faith ; and yet the 
 necessity of religious culture was perpetually reiterated, 
 and precept upon precept was followed by line upon line. 
 
 It was under such influences that religion descended 
 
 like the dew upon Joseph s childhood, and opened in 
 
 his heart the blossoms of a spiritual faith, and a tender, 
 
 childlike piety. Calvinism could never have made him 
 
 28 
 
326 CHANGE OF RELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 gloomy, nor Puritanism bigoted and ascetic. But as 
 soon as he began, in preparation for his profession, a 
 careful, impartial, and critical study of the Scriptures, 
 without seeking in them for the support of previously 
 received opinions, he found that he could not discover 
 in them that theology which had been the support and 
 solace of so many hearts among his ancestors. While 
 studying at Exeter, he seems to have rejected the doc 
 trine of total innate depravity, and other tenets connected 
 with it ; and although the doctrine of the Trinity was ap 
 proached with caution and reluctance, yet, at the age of 
 nineteen, he writes thus to his father : "I have em 
 ployed almost every day since my return from Ports 
 mouth in reading the most orthodox works upon the 
 Trinity, Edwards, Jamieson, Ridgely, etc.; and, 
 from what I know of the state of my own mind, I de 
 spair of ever giving my assent to the proposition that 
 Jesus Christ is God, equal to the Father. I have been 
 thus explicit, that, whatever may be my future lot, I may 
 still retain the consciousness of having preferred the re- 
 linquishment of every prospect of fame or preferment to 
 the slightest evasion or hypocrisy upon subjects deemed 
 by you so important." 
 
 His continued study upon this and kindred subjects 
 resulted certainly in a wide departure from strict Cal 
 vinism. He rejected all connection with the tenets of 
 Socinus. Socinianism, which admits of no spiritual aid 
 in the perfect obedience to law which it demands, could 
 have no attraction for a mind so early imbued with a 
 devout longing for an intimate communion with God. 
 He became afterwards thoroughly acquainted with the 
 writings of English Unitarians ; and he felt unbounded 
 respect for those honest men, and noble confessors, 
 
DOCTRINAL OPINIONS. 327 
 
 who, for conscience sake, gave up all worldly advance 
 ment. He admired their philanthropy, and sympathized 
 with their efforts to harmonize Scripture, reason, and 
 common sense ; yet he did not belong to them. It does 
 not appear that he wholly sympathized with any one 
 of the divisions by which Christians were classed at 
 the beginning of this century. He endeavoured to vin 
 dicate those views which satisfied his own earnest efforts 
 after truth, and he was ready to cooperate with all who 
 strove to advance a spiritual piety, and an elevated 
 standard of morals, and a sincere adoption of "the new 
 commandment " of love. Extracts which will be given 
 from some few of his sermons, upon points of doctrine, 
 will show in what views his studies had resulted at the 
 early period of his death. The labor which he devoted 
 to anxious inquiries was uncheered by sympathy from 
 his father ; and he had the additional sorrow of finding 
 that the results of his study placed him in painful an 
 tagonism to that revered friend of his youth. 
 
 At the period of his settlement, and even at his 
 death, there had been no outward and marked division 
 in the churches. In the Congregational churches of 
 Massachusetts there had been no uniform confession of 
 faith. Neither the churches nor the ministers were 
 amenable to any tribunal, and the spirit of Congrega 
 tionalism had left every minister at liberty to gather his 
 sentiments and opinions from the only rule of faith, a 
 conscientious study of the word of God. The differ 
 ences of opinion, which must necessarily exist among 
 men who think for themselves, had not arisen to such a 
 height as to form schisms or separations of churches. 
 Trinitarians, Arminians, Calvinists, Hopkinsians, and 
 Baptists united in acts of Christian fellowship. At or- 
 
328 CHANGE IN THEOLOGICAL OPINIONS 
 
 dinations and councils, Dr. Morse and Dr. Channing, 
 Dr. Osgood and Dr. Kirkland, sat side by side, and 
 were associated in apparent harmony together. This 
 has since been called a deceitful show of union, involv 
 ing a disingenuous concealment of opinions, arising from 
 a spirit of indifference to the purity of doctrine, and an 
 attachment to worldly advantages. To some minds, it 
 may seem to have been a prudent and generous accom 
 modation to the spirit of brotherly love, and that it did 
 as much honor to the ministers of Massachusetts as any 
 thing in their history. While, to some, it may appear 
 that the true doctrines of the Church were sacrificed in 
 such freedom, others will be persuaded that the spirit of 
 Christian fellowship, and the only true Gospel influences, 
 were advanced ; and that, if dogmas and polemics were 
 kept in abeyance, ministers and people became better 
 Christians. 
 
 It was certainly honorable to those who thus accorded, 
 that they considered the things in which they agreed as 
 of more importance than those in which they differed, 
 and as being a sufficient ground of Christian communion. 
 It was thought, also, at that time, that a man might be 
 sincere, if erroneous, and capable of teaching that 
 which, with God s blessing, would save men s souls, if 
 he did not acknowledge as infallible truth all the so-called 
 doctrines of the Reformation. And this honor attaches 
 to all parties ; for each minister seems secretly to have 
 determined, " I will not be the first to open a schism. 
 I will stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ has 
 made me free, and those who abridge this liberty are 
 the only sectarians." 
 
 It has been made a frequent subject of reproach, 
 especially at the present time, against those who re- 
 
IN THE CHURCHES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 329 
 
 jected the doctrines of orthodoxy, among whom the 
 younger subject of this memoir is recognized, that they 
 did not come out and make proclamation of their opin 
 ions upon certain points, and of their disagreement 
 with the dogmas of Calvin. What has just been said 
 seems a sufficient answer. They were amenable to no 
 one for their opinions. These opinions were formed 
 with slow, anxious, and painful study, and there was no 
 moment in the process of their laborious investigation 
 that any one had a right to demand a confession from 
 them of their progress or their conclusions. They 
 were accountable to their own consciences only, which 
 required them to preach what they believed, not what 
 they did not believe. Then, parishes, as we have seen, 
 were sometimes in advance of the ministers, and, in 
 many cases, more liberal than they. From the peculiar 
 bitterness of theological divisions, it could not be hoped 
 that such a slate of things would long continue. When, 
 after the death of Eckley, and Emerson, and Buckmin- 
 ster, those who had departed from the faith of Calvin 
 were placed in antagonism with their brethren, they 
 were sufficiently ready to defend themselves and their 
 position ; but that was after the period with which these 
 memoirs have any concern. 
 
 The only public hostility which Mr. Buckminster en 
 countered was a severe attack upon a small collection of 
 hymns prepared for the use of the Brattle Street Church. 
 The reviewer charged him with unauthorized alterations, 
 for the purpose of suppressing certain doctrines. The 
 hymns were adapted to particular subjects of discourses, 
 and intended to supply the deficiencies of Tate and 
 Brady s version ; and it has been mentioned in another 
 page of this memoir that the compiler took them from 
 28* 
 
330 LETTER TO MR. BELSHAM. 
 
 Dr. Kippi s selection, and was ignorant that any altera 
 tion had been made in them. In writing to Rev. Mr. 
 Belsham, of England, at this time, he speaks thus of the 
 state of religion in Boston : 
 
 " December 5th, 1809. 
 
 " The most exclusive spirit of Calvinism seems now re 
 viving, and perhaps gaining ground, in Boston. I have been 
 exposed to some of its deadliest shafts in consequence of a 
 little collection of hymns, unorthodox, not heterodox, which 
 I have made for the use of my society. However, we shall 
 stand our ground very firmly in Boston. There is no place 
 on the face of the globe where so much attention is paid 
 to ministers by all ranks, especially by the most enlightened. 
 Those very men who, in New York and Philadelphia, would 
 probably be unbelievers because they could not be Calvin- 
 ists, are, among us in Boston, rational Christians, the most 
 constant supporters of public worship, the most intimate 
 friends of the clergy, and not a few of them professors of 
 religion. Our only danger is in our security and strength. 
 4 In such an hour as we think not, sudden destruction may 
 come upon us, but I think there is a root of rationality and 
 soberness in Boston, which, with God s blessing, can never 
 fail to spring up and flourish here, except by the culpable 
 indifference of its cultivators 
 
 " I am in general much pleased with Macknight. I need 
 not tell you that the great difficulty in Paul s Epistles lies 
 in about half a dozen words. If I could settle their mean 
 ing, I should bless God all the rest of my life. 
 " Yours, with the highest regard, 
 
 " J. S. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 Dr. Eckley, the venerable pastor of the Old South 
 Church, died in April, 1811 ; and it was in the follow 
 ing terms that the pastor of Brattle Street, who was 
 counted in the van of the advocates of liberal views, 
 spoke of him the Sabbath after his interment : 
 
CHARACTER OF DR. ECKLEY. 331 
 
 " When the image of Dr. Eckley rises to my thoughts, 
 I cannot for a moment suspect that the regard shown to 
 his memory was the dictate of form, or a tribute to office 
 or to age. No ; it was the tribute which virtue pays to virtue, 
 which friendship pays to friendship. It was the language 
 of undisguised affection and esteem. It was the homage 
 which the community, even when most corrupt, will always 
 pay to a heart of whose goodness it is sure. True, he was 
 a faithful minister ; but he was also a faithful man ; he was 
 respected and loved in every place, as well as in his office. 
 
 " Those who were his coevals and his long-tried associ 
 ates bear witness to his faithfulness, and the disinterested 
 ness of his friendships. Those of us who were younger 
 in the ministry, and who could not be expected to form 
 those close intimacies which was the privilege of those 
 who knew him early, yet cannot speak of his worth with 
 out ardent wishes that it had pleased God to continue him 
 longet to us. His desire to preserve a Christian fellow 
 ship, and the most liberal intercourse with his brethren, was 
 too well known to be doubted, and cannot be remembered 
 without gratitude and admiration. Every day made his 
 life valuable to us as a friend and father, a mediator in 
 our profession. He had no bitterness ; no uncharitable- 
 ness ; no desire for spiritual authority ; no symptoms of 
 religious pride ; no tendencies to an exclusive system of 
 Christianity. He was indeed a man who loved the re 
 ligion of Christ wherever it existed, and who loved a good 
 man in whatever denomination he found him. He had 
 the reputation of what is often called orthodox theology ; 
 and the character of his early preaching, arid the nature 
 of his early connections, had contributed to establish the 
 opinion of his being attached to a creed more dogmatical 
 than was received by many of his contemporaries and suc 
 cessors in the ministry. But he always . evinced a most 
 amiable anxiety to manifest his superiority to those prin- 
 
332 CHARACTER OF DR. ECKLEY. 
 
 ciples of exclusion and separation which some men think 
 are the natural consequences of his belief. I do not be 
 lieve that the mere circumstance of speculative dissent ever 
 alienated his mind from a single human being, or quenched 
 the warmth of his ministerial attachment to his brethren. 
 He abhorred a selfish spirit in religion as well as in com 
 mon life. Would to God that his spirit might descend upon 
 us in all its generosity and purity ! for as long as the 
 remembrance of him remains among his brethren in the 
 ministry, they will not want a standard of Catholicism by 
 which they may ascertain what spirit they are of. 
 
 " There was also a great simplicity and openness, as well 
 as purity of character, in Dr. Eckley, which was character 
 istic of a Christian, in whom there should be no guile. He 
 was a man who had no hidden and private purposes to serve, 
 and you could always put trust in him without anxiety ; 
 and I may safely appeal to you all for the general impres 
 sion which prevailed of his integrity and candor; a.n im 
 pression which is never delusive, and which no man can 
 preserve through a life of such length as his, without de 
 serving the character he has gained. This is that honest 
 testimony which public and private sentiment pays to a 
 man of real worth, which is the true reflection of the testi 
 mony of a man s own conscience, and is worth more 
 than all the eulogies of orators and all the forms of 
 mourning 
 
 " In short, Dr. Eckley seems to me to have been one of 
 those men whose loss it is extremely difficult to supply. He 
 filled a place which few men are so happy as to hold, or 
 to be able to fill, between the extremes into which minis 
 ters, who are of like passions with other men, are contin 
 ually rushing. It was impossible not to respect him ; and 
 many, many will confess with a sigh, that they loved him, 
 they were not prepared to lose him ; and his affection 
 ate spirit was fled before we could bid it farewell ; and long, 
 
VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS OPINION. 333 
 
 long will it be before we can replace him ! It would have 
 been grateful to us to witness the disposition of his mind 
 while departing, to have received his parental regards, 
 to have expressed our respect and affection to so advanced 
 and worthy a brother ; but God, in whose hands are the 
 issues of life, determined otherwise, and we know that He 
 is wise and gracious, and that He has some good purpose to 
 serve by this truly afflictive dispensation. He is gone to his 
 long home, and the mourners go about the streets ; yet thy 
 presence, O God, has gone with him and given him rest ! " 
 
 There was felt, by the older ministers of the Boston 
 Association, by Dr. Eckley, Dr. Lathrop, and Dr. 
 Osgood, the greatest reluctance to break the ancient 
 harmony of the churches. As each one had formed 
 his opinions through a sincere desire for truth, guiding 
 his search in the Scriptures, they were unwilling to in 
 sist upon any other centre of union, or any other standard 
 of truth, except the Scriptures. As Calvinism was re 
 nounced, different aspects of dissent appeared, accord 
 ing to the character of each mind in which it had lost 
 its authority. In some, as an intellectual protest against 
 incomprehensible doctrines ; in others, as a plea against 
 dogmatism ; and in many, as a desire for a more simple, 
 and spiritual, and reasonable faith. There was but one 
 point upon which the liberal party were united, the re 
 jection of the doctrine of the Trinity ; to admit the per 
 sonal Godhead of Christ was to them impossible. Upon 
 no other subject co uldthey have agreed in an issue. Up 
 on the doctrines of the atonement, the supernatural influ 
 ences of the Spirit, the inspiration of the Scriptures, 
 so much did they differ, that they probably would not 
 have held together. On these subjects, some of the 
 liberal party would have been found, at the time of 
 
334 ON THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 
 
 which we speak, on the side of orthodoxy. How futile, 
 then, is the charge against them, that they concealed 
 their sentiments because they were not prepared for 
 acts of decision ! Both parties deprecated that religious 
 warfare which would estrange parish from parish, broth 
 er from brother, and bring into the tenderest hearts the 
 most acute distress. But, now that it is passed, every 
 one must acknowledge that the area of the warfare has 
 been enriched. A more thorough and critical investi 
 gation of the Scriptures is demanded ; a deeper and 
 more fervently religious spirit is cultivated in all the 
 churches ; and a more general knowledge of theology 
 and kindred subjects pervades the whole community. 
 
 Some extracts from unpublished manuscript sermons 
 follow ; and here it should be distinctly remarked, that 
 although Mr. Buckminster is ranked, and justly, among 
 Unitarians, yet he never took the name upon him 
 self, nor used it as a distinctive term, significant of his 
 own faith. He was not a sectarian in feeling, nor a 
 controversialist in practice. He possessed nothing of 
 the odium theologicum, which has sometimes shown it 
 self since his death. Those who belong to opposite 
 parties in the Church, though they may differ from the 
 conclusions to which he came in applying the rules 
 of criticism to the interpretation of the sacred writers, 
 have ever done justice to the candor and honesty of 
 mind displayed in his critical and theological discus 
 sions. 
 
 "ON THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 
 
 " * The Christ, the Son of the living God. Mat. xvi. 16. 
 
 " When we receive Jesus as the Christ, we receive him 
 as he has himself repeatedly explained the character, and 
 
RELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 335 
 
 as it is announced in the prophecies to which he has him 
 self appealed ; as the Son of God ; the Holy One of God ; 
 the Sent of God ; the Anointed, the Sanctified of God ; in 
 short, to comprise in one expression of our Saviour s the 
 whole of the sentiment contained in the reception of Jesus 
 as the Christ, it is to honor the Son as he honors the Father ; 
 his authority and that of the Father is, to the Christian, co 
 incident and identical. 
 
 " In this explanation of that article of faith on which all 
 our Christianity is built, there appears to me nothing am 
 biguous or difficult. To receive Jesus as the Christ, it is 
 neither necessary that we should understand the concep 
 tions of that character as they existed in the minds of the 
 Jews, nor that we should know the whole signification of 
 the meaning included in the phrase Son of God ; but that 
 we should take the explanations, as far as we can under 
 stand them, which our Lord himself has given us of his 
 character, and receive him as clothed with the authority of 
 God. Let me but know, let me be convinced, that any sen 
 timent, law, promise, or declaration is Christ s, and it is to 
 me, a Christian, the word of God, the word of the Father 
 which the Son has revealed. 
 
 " Among those who have no doubt of the truth of our 
 religion, and who claim to be its supporters, great diversity 
 of opinion prevails as to the person of Jesus Christ. You 
 will find many making the Son of God not their teacher, 
 their leader, their model, and their judge, but a kind of inter 
 mediate protection, a screen from the justice of the Father. 
 They are ready to receive him as a propitiation, a security, 
 a sacrifice, a substitute ; as one on whose mercy they repose 
 to shelter them from the fury of the Deity ; but not as the 
 King whose laws they ought to obey, whose spirit they 
 must imbibe, and whose steps they must follow. They rep 
 resent to themselves Jesus as one who has suffered all the 
 punishment due to the sinner, and whose righteousness 
 
336 ON THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 
 
 is to be imputed to them. His blood, they imagine, has 
 washed them from their pollutions, and his sufferings have 
 paid an infinite satisfaction for their sins. As Jesus is, in 
 their opinion, the Infinite and Almighty Deliverer, they 
 seem to think, that, if by a single act of faith they have 
 got him upon their side, they have no more to fear, and 
 are released from the penalties which their iniquities de 
 serve. I hope, my Christian hearers, that I need not 
 caution you against these abuses, or tell you that, whatever 
 may be the personal dignity of your Saviour, you cannot 
 attain to final salvation without repentance for your sins, 
 a pure faith in his religion, and true, steadfast, unreserved 
 obedience to his Gospel. 
 
 " What, then, is the idea that the sincere and intelligent 
 Christian entertains of Jesus Christ, he who confesses with 
 his whole heart that he is the Christ^ the Son of the living 
 God ? He does not perplex himself with fruitless inquiries 
 into the precise nature of that relation which subsisted be 
 tween Jesus on earth and the Supreme Deity ; he does not 
 disturb his mind with endeavouring to explain the manner 
 in which he was the Son of God, nor the precise boundaries 
 between his nature and that of the Father. No ; it is to 
 him of much more importance to ascertain the relation in 
 which Jesus stands to himself, what Jesus is to him and he 
 to Jesus. He receives without difficulty the declaration 
 which Jesus has made of himself as the only-begotten Son 
 of the Highest; he views him as enjoying the most intimate 
 union with the Deity, full of his energy and spirit ; his visi 
 ble likeness on earth ; the express image, among men, of the 
 Supreme, whom no mortal eye hath seen, or can see. He 
 receives him as the expected object of ancient prediction, 
 ordained to appear, to diffuse blessings and life over the 
 world. He who knows him, knows the Father. He who 
 honors him, honors the Father who sent him. To the faith 
 ful Christian, Jesus is the restorer of human integrity and 
 
REGENERATION. 337 
 
 happiness ; able to reform and to lead us to God. He is 
 the Mediator who brings us nearer to God ; and proclaims 
 the peace and pardon, and imparts the blessings of the New 
 Covenant. He is the Deliverer from sin and death ; the Sa 
 viour ; the Prince of Life. The Christian looks to him as 
 the great leader, whose steps he is to follow, whose char 
 acter he is to resemble, whose decision he is to await. He 
 looks to him as the head of the Christian community, to 
 whom all authority is committed, to whom is due entire 
 submission and obedience, and who will become wisdom 
 and righteousness, sanctification and redemption to those 
 who will obey him. He is indeed, like Thomas, on the 
 recognition of the Saviour, ready to exclaim, My Lord and 
 my God ! " 
 
 "UPON REGENERATION. 
 
 11 Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. 
 John iii. 3. 
 
 " It is not enough, Nicodemus, that you should visit me 
 in the secresy of the night to declare your belief in my 
 Divine authority ; for except a man be born again, of water 
 and of the Holy Spirit, except you openly profess my re 
 ligion and your heart be transformed into the spirit of my 
 Gospel, you cannot be a subject of the kingdom I am about 
 to establish 
 
 " Nicodemus, either intentionally or ignorantly misunder 
 standing our Saviour, supposes him to mean a repetition of 
 man s natural birth. How can a man be born, says he, 
 when he is old ? This mistake leads our Saviour to ex 
 plain with more particularity the nature and course of the 
 moral change, or new birth. i The wind bloweth where 
 it listeth and thou nearest the sound thereof, but canst 
 not tell whence it cometh, nor whither it goeth : so is every 
 one that is born of the Spirit. The changes and revolu 
 tions of the human mind mock the eye of sense in their 
 progress. They are known only by their effects. The 
 29 
 
338 REGENERATION. 
 
 operations of God s Spirit, the influence of causes that 
 change the whole character, that produce a revolution like 
 that of a new birth, are silent as the wheels of time. You 
 hear not its footsteps, you see not its passing form, but the 
 effects are momentous and eternal. Your mind is raised 
 to a purer atmosphere ; your thoughts reach a more exalted 
 height ; you better understand your relation to God and 
 Christ, and the holy duties that result from your new birth. 
 " Look back, my hearers, upon your lives, and observe 
 the numerous opinions that you have adopted and dis 
 carded, the numerous attachments you have formed and 
 forgotten, and recollect how imperceptible were the revo 
 lutions of your sentiments, how quiet the changes of your 
 affections. Perhaps, even now, your minds may be passing 
 through some interesting processes, your pursuits may be 
 taking some new direction, and your character may soon ex 
 hibit to the world some unexpected transformation. Compare 
 with this the spiritual regeneration of the heart. So is 
 every one that is born of the Spirit. Perhaps the following 
 may not be an imperfect description of the process that 
 takes place in a mind which is the subject of a radical con 
 version. The motion of the wind is unseen, its effects are 
 visible ; the trees bend and fields are laid waste ; though 
 the altering sentiments and affections are unnoticed, the al 
 tered character obtrudes itself upon our observation. Truths, 
 before contemplated without concern, now seize the mind 
 with a grasp too firm to be shaken. The world which is 
 to succeed the present is no longer a subject of accidental 
 thought, of wavering belief, or lifeless speculation ; a region 
 to which no tie binds us, and which no curiosity leads us 
 to explore. To the regenerated mind, the character and 
 condition of man appears in a new, an interesting light. 
 To a being whose existence has but just commenced, 
 death is only a boundary, a line, that marks off the first, 
 the smallest portion of existence. Earth with her retinue 
 
REGENERATION. 339 
 
 of allurements, her band of fascinating syrens, exclaims, 
 4 We have lost our hold on this man ! He is no longer ours ! 
 Religion welcomes her new adherent ; she beckons him 
 to turn his steps into a new, a pleasanter path ; and God him 
 self looks down from heaven with complacency and love, 
 illuminating his track by the light of his countenance, mark 
 ing the first step he takes in religion, and supporting him by 
 the staff of his grace, the aid of his Holy Spirit 
 
 44 2d. But what means does the Spirit of God use to 
 effect this regeneration, to form this character, to cherish 
 this life of God in the soul of man ? On this subject much 
 has been spoken and written mystically, much unintel 
 ligibly, much absurdly, and much falsely. It has been 
 said, with daring impiety, that the more profligate, profane, 
 and corrupted the character, the more probable is its regen 
 eration, that God may show to an astonished world what 
 wonders his grace can effect. Every age has been deluded 
 with accounts of the physical and mechanical operations 
 of the Spirit, so that we should probably suppose it to be 
 some subtle fluid, instantaneous and irresistible in its effects. 
 But in the whole course of Scripture history, comparing a 
 period of thousands of years, not an instance can be found 
 of the use of violent means for the production of a merely 
 moral change. Should the conversion of Paul be alleged, 
 as it ever is, to support the cause of enthusiasm, let it once 
 for all be considered that it is a solitary instance, and in an 
 age abounding with miracles ; and secondly, that the public 
 and instantaneous change of such a man, who was an enemy 
 to the faith, added to the weight of testimony in favor of 
 Christianity a wonderful fact, which cannot be accounted 
 for except in supposition of the truth of the history of Jesus, 
 and it thus gives a peculiar propriety to the mode of conver 
 sion in this case 
 
 " But as long as it is easier to fall down in swoons, to 
 start in convulsions, and to groan in distress, than to reno- 
 
340 REGENERATION. 
 
 vate and purify the heart, as long as it is possible to gain 
 belief to professions of an instantaneous change without 
 showing the gradual operation of the Spirit in the progres 
 sive reformation, increasing holiness and goodness, of the 
 character, so long will the cause of Christ be dishonored, 
 the minds of the good disturbed, and the ear of the infi 
 del delighted, by pious delusions and solemn extrava 
 gances 
 
 " Sanctify us by thy truth ; thy word is truth, says the 
 Gospel. Those who are born again, says Peter, are born 
 not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word 
 of God. At this word the proudest hearts have bowed, 
 and consciences encased in mail, invulnerable to the feeble 
 weapons of philosophy and unchristianized morality, have 
 been pierced to the quick, and sought the only remedy 
 for their wounds in the balmy blessings of the Gospel of 
 peace 
 
 u Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born 
 again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. The necessity 
 of this new birth appears from the nature and condition 
 of rnan. We wish not to enter into the consideration of the 
 doctrine of original sin, depravity, or the imputation of sin. 
 Leaving these terms of theology, look round only, we entreat 
 you, on the world in which we live ; see it deformed by 
 corruption, spotted by pollution ; see it full of men buried 
 in sinful pursuits and enslaved to innumerable lusts that war 
 against the soul. The first objects that engage the dawning 
 mind of the child are objects of sense. That which is born 
 of the flesh is flesh. It is a selfish, sensual creature, igno 
 rant of its Creator, of its destination ; uninclined to the 
 purity, the spirituality, the power of religion ; alienated from 
 the life of God, the life of the soul ! Unrenewed by the 
 influence of religious truth, undirected by the guiding hand 
 of an Almighty Father, how shall such a creature reach 
 the regions of immortal bliss ? Is it enthusiasm, is it folly, 
 
THE ATONEMENT. 341 
 
 is it hypocrisy, to say to such a creature, You must be born 
 again before you can see the kingdom of God ? Is that 
 Redeemer to be disclaimed who offers you his Divine aid 
 to form anew your character, to exalt your affections, to en 
 lighten your dreary and desolate understanding ? Would it 
 not be a contemptuous abridgment of the bounty, and an 
 ungrateful restriction of the meaning, of the Saviour, to sup 
 pose that he intended to confine his assertion of the neces 
 sity of this regeneration to the Jews or Gentiles of that age ? 
 Reflect, it is not with Nicodemus only, but with us, he is con 
 versing ; and if our lips declare We know, Master, thou 
 art a teacher sent from God, to us he still replies, Verily, I 
 say unto you, you S.re not my disciples till you are regen 
 erated ; till you have imbibed my Spirit, you cannot in 
 herit my future and immortal empire. " 
 
 "UPON THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 " In whom we have redemption through his blood. Col. i. 14. 
 
 [After enumerating the various ways in which the 
 death of Christ is spoken of in the Scriptures, the nature 
 and meaning of sacrifices among the Jews, &c. : ] " In the 
 second place, I propose to state to you, in general, some 
 of the ideas which Christians have entertained on the sub 
 ject of the death of Christ. Here you will immediately 
 perceive that a plain line of distinction must necessarily 
 be drawn between those who receive the language of Scrip 
 ture on this subject in a literal sense and those who give 
 it only a figurative interpretation. Of the ideas of the lat 
 ter, I may say in general, that they imply such a diminution 
 of the strict meaning of language as is hardly consistent 
 with any commonly received notion of inspiration. They 
 suppose the death of Christ was described in sacrificial 
 terms, borrowed from the Old Testament, in order to rec 
 oncile the Jewish Christians to the simplicity of the new 
 dispensation, and enable them to find something in Chris- 
 29* 
 
342 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 tianity answering to the sacrifices, oblations, priests, and cere 
 monies to which they had been accustomed under the old 
 dispensation. If, however, the sacrifices under the Mosaic 
 dispensation had any expiating efficacy, and the Apostles 
 believed that they had, it cannot be supposed that the death 
 of Christ, which they represented as supplying their place, 
 should be so described in mere accommodation to the idea 
 of the Jews, unless it in truth contained something of a simi 
 lar or superior nature. These Christians, therefore, believ 
 ing that there is nothing in the nature of sin which may 
 not be pardoned upon repentance, believe, too, of course, 
 that sacrifices which had been considered as necessary to 
 the acceptableness of repentance, were neither in truth of 
 any intrinsic value, nor had they any reference to the 
 great atonement which they have been said to prefigure. 
 But if there is nothing really propitiatory in the practice of 
 sacrifices, it is extremely difficult to account for the idea 
 which has universally prevailed of their necessity in order 
 to secure the favor of God, and not less difficult to account 
 for their origin and prevalence in the world. They suppose, 
 also, that the intention of the Mosaic expiations did not re 
 gard the moral element, but only ceremonial uncleanness, 
 or something equally unimportant ; that they had no refer 
 ence to, or pre figuration of, the death of Christ, and, of 
 course, that, whatever value they possessed, they did not de 
 rive it from that great sacrifice, foreordained in the counsels 
 of Heaven. In one word, they take it for granted that the 
 death of Christ is described in these sacrificial terms, not 
 because it really possessed an expiatory efficacy, or an 
 efficacy similar to that belonging to the Jewish sacrifices, 
 but because there were circumstances in the one, to which 
 they could find something parallel in the other. You will 
 easily perceive how much this reduces the literal meaning 
 of the language of the Scriptures, and will perhaps say that 
 it leaves as many difficulties unaccounted for as the system 
 of those who adopt the literal meaning. 
 
THE ATONEMENT. 343 
 
 " In direct opposition to this latitudinarian explanation, 
 and at the other extreme, is the system of those who con 
 sider the death of Christ as that great event upon which the 
 pardon of the world depends, and without which no person 
 living, whatever his character may be, short of entire inno 
 cence, can be rescued from eternal condemnation and mis 
 ery, which is the positive punishment to be annexed in a 
 future life to the smallest transgression. 
 
 " The notions of sin, on which their system is founded, 
 are these : The least deviation from the laws of God is 
 either an infinite evil, or such an infinite dishonor to his 
 character, that it cannot, consistently with God s justice, or 
 the nature of things, be forgiven simply upon repentance, 
 without some satisfaction equivalent to the dreadfulness of 
 the evil. Some, however, disdain as presumptuous the as 
 sertion that God cannot forgive the offences of men without 
 some scheme of atonement, and only maintain that it was 
 inconsistent with his attributes and character to forgive sin 
 upon mere repentance, or in any other manner. Under 
 this idea, therefore, that there was something of vicarious 
 atonement in the death of Christ, without which sin was un 
 pardonable, they explain the origin of sacrifices, and the 
 notions of mankind respecting their efficacy. They sup 
 pose that sacrifices were originally instituted by God in 
 reference to this great and final sacrifice, and this only gave 
 them their significance and value. They suppose that un 
 less the death of Christ is considered as a real expiation, 
 no well-grounded hope can be entertained by any man of 
 deliverance from the future and everlasting punishment of 
 his sins ; and of course they maintain that all the repre 
 sentations in Scripture relating to this subject convey the 
 idea of, and require the belief of, a true and proper atone 
 ment. 
 
 " It is true that, upon this scheme, there is some difficulty 
 in reconciling the phrases, which represent Christ some- 
 
344 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 times as the priest, and sometimes as the sacrifice ; and 
 which attribute the efficacy of his mediation sometimes to 
 his example, sometimes to his death, at others to his 
 resurrection, and in others to his intercession. Upon the 
 whole, therefore, they are willing to admit that all that 
 Christ did and suffered is to be taken into the account ; that 
 his obedience altogether constitutes the equivalent satisfac 
 tion, without which it was impossible for the sins of man 
 kind to be forgiven. 
 
 " Between these two views of the subject many others 
 have been invented by theologians, giving up or retaining 
 more or less of the peculiarities of each. These I have 
 not time or inclination to detail to you. In order, however, 
 to arrive at just conceptions of the nature of our redemp 
 tion, and to avoid the extravagances into which systematic 
 theologians have fallen, it is necessary to keep in mind the 
 following principles : In considering the character and 
 conduct of our God, we must be careful not to separate any 
 one of his attributes from the others, his mercy from his 
 justice, or his justice from his mercy. This would be to re 
 duce his nature to our limited conceptions. His attributes 
 are all harmonious, and his nature one great impulse to 
 ward what is best. Hence, if we contemplate his mere 
 justice, apart and unmodified by any other quality, we must 
 in truth consider our relation to him in the light of debt 
 and credit; and in this view of the subject, it may be said, 
 indeed, that he could not forgive an offender, till some ade 
 quate satisfaction, beside mere repentance, was provided, 
 to render it proper to be propitious. But the light in which 
 reason and Christianity represent God is that of a parent. 
 Now a parent, however disposed he may be to forgive a dis 
 obedient child, may yet think it highly proper not to receive 
 him into favor, upon his mere symptoms of returning affec 
 tion ; but may rest his acceptance on some condition, which, 
 though not strictly indispensable, may yet be extremely 
 
THE ATONEMENT. 345 
 
 proper, to impress the child more strongly with the crime of 
 his disobedience, and operate to prevent a repetition of the 
 offence. Such is the light in which we ought to consider 
 the method which God has adopted, in declaring his dispo - 
 sition to forgive his offending children of the human race. 
 Again: whatever may have been the real efficacy of the 
 death of Christ, it cannot be supposed that the change of 
 disposition is wrought upon God. His nature is immutable, 
 and his purposes are originally benevolent. The object of 
 the Scripture representation is to operate upon ourselves. 
 Till the effect is produced upon ourselves, the propitiation 
 of our Saviour, however great or powerful, is of no avail 
 to our redemption. 
 
 " Keeping in view, then, the parental character of God, 
 and the object of the sacrifice of Christ, let us always con 
 sider that the method which God has chosen, to declare and 
 to dispense his pardon, is unquestionably the wisest and best. 
 You may ask why God could not have explicitly declared, 
 that, upon the sincere repentance of a sinner, he was ready 
 to receive him into favor, without connecting it in any way 
 with the sacrifice of so illustrious a person as the Son of 
 God ; I answer, I know not. I know only, that God has 
 chosen another method, which he undoubtedly thought more 
 effectual and proper. I may answer you, too, by proposing 
 a parallel example. If you ask me why God could not 
 have effected his purpose of bringing life and immortality 
 to light, by simply assuring us of it upon his bare authority, 
 without coupling it with, or making it depend, as he has 
 done, on the resurrection of his Son, I can only answer, 
 because he has thought the latter method more effectual. It 
 was unquestionably better calculated to influence the belief 
 of the contemporaries of our Lord to show them the fact of 
 a person s rising from the dead, than any mere declaration 
 of a future existence could have been. In the same man 
 ner, he has thought it better to assure the world of the par- 
 
346 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 don of sin, by setting before their eyes the great sacrifice 
 of Jesus, and directing their attention to it in this light, than 
 merely by a simple declaration of his placability. If these 
 remarks are properly considered, I think we shall be more 
 disposed to acquiesce in the method which God has chosen ; 
 and, instead of presumptuously declaring what he might 
 have done, w.e shall, with humility, endeavour to derive 
 from the Scripture account of the sacrifice of Christ, mo 
 tives of gratitude and consolation, and a deep abhorrence of 
 those sins which occasioned this scheme of suffering and 
 death. 
 
 " III. I proceed, therefore, with more pleasure, to the 
 third head of my discourse, in which I proposed to consider 
 the practical considerations suggested by the death of Christ. 
 
 "1. In the first place, it leads us to the most exalted and 
 touching conceptions of the mercy of God. My dear 
 friends, have you ever looked into your own hearts, and 
 compared them with the purity of God ? [lave you ever 
 considered that it is mercy and unmerited and perfectly 
 gratuitous forbearance only in your Creator which has con 
 tinued you yet in life, and withheld from you that punish 
 ment which your ingratitude and your unworthiness have 
 deserved ? What was it but compassion, which could hold 
 out to creatures like us the hope of the future friendship of 
 the pure Being, who cannot behold iniquity, even the most 
 secret and unobserved, without abhorrence ? And what but 
 the most unbounded benignity, far beyond the ordinary 
 standard by which we estimate goodness, would have pro 
 vided a dispensation by which such unpretending and worth 
 less men as we are may aspire to eternal felicity and im 
 provement? Have you considered, also, the dreary and 
 benighted state of the world, on the subject of pardon, be 
 fore the appearance of Christ ? the horrible notions which 
 prevailed of the Divinity, the dread of his justice, the inex 
 pressible fears and horrors with which futurity was invested, 
 
THE ATONEMENT. 347 
 
 the tremendous sacrifices with which the Deity was propiti 
 ated, the heart-rending doubts which prevailed in the purest 
 and most enlightened minds on the subject, as to the Divine 
 placability ? Whenever a good man reaches that last hour, 
 when the world shrinks into nothing in his sight, and, in 
 stead of it, when all his sins and imperfections rise up in fear 
 ful array before him, when his conscience tells him what 
 he has deserved, but holds out no certain, sure, and pacify 
 ing method of obtaining pardon and relief, then it is that he 
 may learn to estimate the mercy of the Gospel dispensation. 
 Then, when he is looking round for some promises of pardon, 
 the method of salvation by Jesus Christ our Lord presents 
 itself as an inexpressible consolation, and he blesses God for 
 the hope of his Gospel ! He now regards everything which 
 Jesus has suffered as a pledge from God of the security of 
 his gracious promise. Every other expiation, oblation, cere 
 mony, however expensive, or however awful, he sees to be 
 worse than ineffectual, even impious. In .this state of 
 mind his philosophy deserts him. He receives with humili 
 ty and joy the redemption held out by Jesus. He sees in 
 Jesus the compassionate character of God, and he sees it 
 clearly nowhere else. He is no longer disposed to inquire 
 into the minute relations of everything which he sees in the 
 sacrifice of Christ; but he embraces the simple declaration 
 that God is in Christ, and reconciling the world unto him 
 self, not imputing unto men their trespasses. He sees 
 enough of the character of God in the simple fact, that he 
 has given the world an encouragement, by the death of so 
 pure and spotless a victim, that the access to God is open, 
 and the hope of pardon a hope to which he may aspire. 
 He will feel unable to express his gratitude to the Father 
 of mankind, that he has not left them in distressing igno 
 rance, in all the horrors of unexpiated guilt ; but whatever 
 assurance can possibly be afforded to unworthy creatures is 
 contained in the scheme of redemption which God has 
 
348 THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 
 
 chosen, to display his benignity. Herein is love, not that 
 we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be 
 the propitiation for our sins. v 
 
 The extracts which follow are from the last sermon, 
 except two, which my brother ever wrote. The sermon 
 was written in the April previous to his death, and may 
 be understood to express his last opinions. 
 
 " What shall I do to inherit eternal life ? Luke x. 25. 
 
 " We have the authority of the Saviour to answer the 
 question in one invariable manner : If thou wouldst enter 
 into life, keep the commandments. But here a question 
 arises, whether it be possible, from the nature and con 
 dition of man, perfectly to keep the commands of God ? 
 If not, how can .this be the condition of human salvation ? 
 We answer, that, though there should not be a just man 
 upon earth, who sinneth not, it alters not the requisitions of 
 the Divine law. Since, in speaking of God, we must make 
 use of human language, of what are called forensic terms, 
 we may observe that it is the very nature of law, and in 
 deed of every rule, to require the most exact conformity. 
 The law of God, like every other, when considered simply 
 as law, provides no dispensations, and exposes every of 
 fender, even in the minutest degree, to punishment. It 
 would not be law, indeed, if it did not. But though the 
 Scriptures, and the systems of theologians, in different 
 places, represent the moral government of God, over his 
 imperfect creatures, under two different aspects, of a cov 
 enant of works and a covenant of grace, of pure law and 
 pure mercy, as if they were opposite and irreconcilable prin 
 ciples ; yet we should beware of contemplating the char 
 acter of God as consisting of attributes at war with one 
 another, but rather should we consider it in the whole as one 
 great impulse toward what is best. It is impossible, indeed, 
 
THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 349 
 
 from the nature of the case, to admit that God s law, as it is 
 called, requires anything short of perfect obedience. This 
 we cannot allow, while we continue to talk of God in terms 
 of human legislation ; it is the unavoidable consequence of 
 the application of the language of men to the ways of God. 
 Yet when we say, that God requires from every man an obe 
 dience absoluteJy sinless, we know, at the same time, that 
 he provides for the pardon of transgressors on their repent 
 ance. 
 
 " The parental character is that in which God has ever 
 delighted to exhibit himself; and it was to display, con 
 firm, and establish on the surest grounds this parental char 
 acter of God, that the Son of God came into the world. 
 The dispensation of Christianity proceeds altogether on this 
 view, and any other dispensation toward such a nature as 
 man s would be absolute cruelty and injustice. If men 
 choose to say that this favor, or grace, or mercy, toward 
 offenders, or by whatever name it may be called, was ob 
 tained by the sacrifice of Christ, or is dispensed on the 
 ground of his propitiation, it comes to the same thing ; be 
 cause, for the original appointment of this mocle of accept 
 ance, we must still revert to the precious love, or, in other 
 words, to the parental character of God. 
 
 " Further, if it should be asked whether any human be 
 ing has ever attained to this sinless conformity to the Di 
 vine commands, we answer, No ; for this would imply that 
 some one of our race had reached that point of perfection, 
 beyond which improvement was impossible, a supposition 
 inconsistent with our present condition as a state of proba 
 tion, contrary to all the representations of Scripture, and 
 to all our experience of human character. 
 
 " What! then, you will say, has no human being ever 
 
 merited the gift of eternal life ? We answer, Certainly he 
 
 has not. For it is the very nature of the Gospel, that it 
 
 is a dispensation of grace, that its great benefit cannot be 
 
 30 
 
350 THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 
 
 claimed as a debt, but is bestowed in consequence of a 
 gracious promise. Yet it is no less true that the sincere 
 and uniform endeavour to do what God requires, and re 
 pentance for failures and transgressions, which is followed 
 by amendment, may be called the eternal condition of ever 
 lasting life, because the character and declarations of God 
 have explicitly made them such under the, dispensation of 
 Christianity. 
 
 " But it may again be asked, if our final acceptance 
 with God depends, not on absolute and sinless perfection, 
 but on that sincerity of disposition and endeavour which 
 produces prevailing obedience and continual progress in 
 virtue, how is it possible for any one to be sure of eternal 
 life, or to know whether he is, at any one time, in a state of 
 salvation ? 
 
 " I answer, in the first place, that, if men desire to know 
 what precise amount of holiness will rescue them from per 
 dition, the very question implies that they have not the true 
 principle of religious obedience, and, if there be any an 
 swer to be given to such a question, it is most wisely con 
 cealed from \is, for the very notion of true obedience is in 
 consistent with such an inquiry. 
 
 " In the second place, to the sincere Christian the answer 
 would be useless; for whatever assurance he might at one 
 time indulge, yet, as long as he remains a probationary 
 creature, liable to relapse, and, consequently, obliged to 
 watchfulness and exertion, the assurance of salvation at any 
 particular period would be injurious or deceitful. All that 
 we should desire or expect to attain, is a well-grounded 
 hope of our acceptance with God, as the reward of unre 
 served obedience, of unfeigned repentance, of daily prog 
 ress in Christian virtue. This is the hope which maketh not 
 ashamed, for the love of God is shed abroad in the heart. 
 
 " Another mistake of the terms of acceptance with God 
 is to rely upon faith only for salvation. This has generally 
 
THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 351 
 
 been rather a verbal than a material error, and was in former 
 times more dangerous than now ; for a defect of faith, in the 
 subject of Christianity, is, at the present day, far more com 
 mon than too great confidence or credulity. But, as this 
 mistake, like many others, is still founded on the sound of 
 certain passages of Scripture, let us hear what is so often 
 quoted from the favorite Apostle on this subject. By 
 grace, says he, ye are saved through faith ; and a man is 
 justified by faith without the deeds of the law. Does Paul, 
 then, mean to declare, that bare belief in Jesus Christ, with 
 out repentance and obedience, can secure to any man the 
 gift of eternal salvation ? Let his brother Apostle answer, 
 as he has, in terms which nothing can render more explicit: 
 What does it profit a man, if he say he have faith, and 
 have not works : Can faith save him ? No ; faith without 
 works is dead, being alone. 
 
 " Another mistake of the terms of acceptance with God is 
 found among those who profess to rely solely upon the merits 
 of Christ. It is not uncommon to find men, who have never 
 evinced any sentiments of religion, or given any satisfac 
 tory evidence of repentance and reformation, using this too 
 familiar language : For does not an Apostle assure us, 
 say they, c that we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus 
 Christ the righteous, who is a propitiation for our sins, and 
 not for ours only, but for the whole world ? But for what 
 sins, my Christian friends ? For those which we have not 
 forsaken, or of which we have not repented ? For those 
 sins which we every day commit, without remorse and with 
 out consideration ? Suppose the merits of Christ to be in 
 finite, incalculable. Can they supply our sinful omissions 
 of duty ? Christ has done nothing for the unrepenting sin 
 ner. Christ can do nothing for the presumptuous sinner, 
 whose reliance on a Savidar s merit is thought sufficient to 
 excuse him from any obedience or virtue of his own. 
 
 " The application of Christ s righteousness to ourselves 
 
352 THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 
 
 is, in truth, a phrase altogether unscriptural. The word of 
 God conveys no such meaning as the phrase bears in the 
 mouth of an irreligious man. It is true, indeed, that the 
 worth of our Saviour s life and character is beyond all esti 
 mate, and his obedience unto death was, in the sight of God, 
 inexpressibly precious ; but never can this worth become 
 ours, except so far as we repent and forsake our sins, and 
 imitate his life and obedience ; and whatever may be, in 
 the sight of God, the efficacy of his death, never, never let 
 it be imagined that it is a propitiation for the sins which we 
 still retain, the sins which we will not forsake! 
 
 " Again. Do we rely for salvation on the effectual and 
 miraculous operation of God s Spirit, pleading our inability 
 to render that obedience which God s law requires ? Take 
 care, my friends, that you do not misunderstand this abstract 
 and difficult subject. 
 
 u If we mean only, that, without his powerful energy and 
 continual support, we could neither live, nor act, nor think, 
 this indeed is well. If we mean, that, without his gracious 
 instruction, encouragement, and blessing on our exertions, 
 we could neither contend with our lusts, correct our habits, 
 reform our lives, or make progress in the divine life, all this 
 is undeniable. But, if we go further than this, if we im 
 agine our inability to do what is good is such that it is not at 
 any time in our power to cease to do evil, but that we may 
 plead this impotency in defence of our sins, the very sug 
 gestion only shows the strength of our evil habits, the great 
 ness of our corruption, and the extreme danger of our situ 
 ation. 
 
 " But does not an Apostle say, We are not sufficient of 
 ourselves, but all our sufficiency is of God ? He does. 
 But for what were these early converts not competent ? To 
 perform what God had required oY them ? To render obe 
 dience to his laws, and devote themselves to his service ? 
 Surely not. The Apostle has here reference to those 
 
THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 353 
 
 miraculous powers with which his brethren were furnished 
 for the propagation of the Gospel. He is comparing the 
 total inadequacy of the natural means, by which the astonish 
 ing work was accomplished, with the greatness of the effect. 
 He has not the remotest reference to the common ability of 
 man to do the will of God, to lead a life of obedience and 
 holiness. 
 
 " The inability of man, by whatever name we call it, is no 
 greater in the affairs of religion than in any other case, ex 
 cept so far as it is the consequence of his own peculiar de 
 pravity. If, indeed, it were an original, total, and universal 
 incapacity for religion, if there were in us no powers which 
 could be called into exercise by the various means of grace 
 afforded us, no natural capacity of being affected by the 
 motives presented to us, the whole system of facts, doc 
 trines, promises, and threatenings in the Gospel, were a 
 cumbrous and unnecessary provision, and God has taken 
 the superfluous care to persuade us to exert ourselves, and 
 strive for that which, by a single motion of his will, he 
 might have done for us instantly, effectually, completely, 
 and which., according to the theories of some Christians, he 
 must still do for us, by the extraordinary and irresistible 
 operation of his Spirit." 
 
 30* 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ORDINATION OF MR. PARKER, AT PORTSMOUTH. DR. BUCK- 
 
 MINSTER S FRIENDSHIP FOR HIM. j. s. BUCKMIN- 
 STER S HOUSEKEEPING WITH HIS SISTER IN BOSTON. 
 
 LETTERS FROM DRS. SPRAGUE, PIERCE, AND ABBOT. DR. 
 
 WORCESTER. 
 
 1808. THERE were other interesting occurrences 
 
 Aged 24. of the year j 808? which bave been om j uec]? 
 
 because it was desirable to present the sketch, however 
 imperfect it may be, of the beginning of the Unitarian 
 controversy, and the participation that Mr. Buckminster 
 had in preparing the way for the changes that have taken 
 place in society, by themselves. He was called, indeed, 
 to put off his armor before the heat and burden of the 
 conflict began. Hitherto, his profession had led him to 
 the most noble and interesting studies, to the cultivation 
 of the best sympathies of his heart, and to the unembar 
 rassed pursuit of truth. He had been the advocate of 
 no party, and there might have been a fear that his mind 
 would have suffered by a too exclusive application to 
 the studies that would have fitted him to take his in 
 evitable part in the theological warfare of the great 
 struggle that was just beginning. 
 
 Unitarianism had at this time developed only rational 
 and critical powers. It had been an intellectual protest, a 
 plea, against dogmatic theology. It had not yet touched 
 
ORDINATION OF MR. PARKER. 355 
 
 the inward springs that open the rich fountains of imagina 
 tion, of devotional fervor, and Divine love. His was of 
 that class of minds which would have soonest felt that the 
 simple faith of Unitarians is most intimately united with 
 a depth of spiritual feeling, a height of sublime devotion, 
 and a divine beauty of character, unsurpassed by any 
 other faith ; and his sermons, as well as the numerous 
 prayers that he has left, show that he already knew and 
 felt that union. 
 
 The year 1808 was also fraught with deep interest to 
 Dr. Buckminster, in his more retired circle of duties in 
 Portsmouth. There had always existed an intimate 
 connection between the north and south parishes in 
 that place. Dr. Haven, the venerable pastor of the 
 south parish, had died in 1806. He had been like a 
 father to Mr. Buckminster, when he first came, a 
 stranger, to Portsmouth, and there had ever continued a 
 close and intimate ministerial union between them. In 
 1808, the Rev. Nathan Parker was invited to settle over 
 the south church, and his ordination took place in the 
 September of that year. 
 
 Mr. Parker was of the new or liberal school of the 
 ology, and Dr. Buckminster, as we have seen, had be 
 come more strictly orthodox as he advanced in life. 
 But one of the most valuable traits of Mr. Parker s 
 character was honesty, honesty in the fullest and most 
 honorable sense of the word. tc He was imbued with a 
 
 || 
 
 love of truth, exhibiting itself in singleness of purpose and 
 sincerity of manner. There was no appearance of guile 
 in him ; he did nothing for effect. He was direct and 
 independent." He had also the deepest religious con 
 victions, and the utmost sincerity of love to his Divine 
 Master. Dr. Buckminster could not fail instantly to 
 
356 DR. BUCKMINSTERS FRIENDSHIP FOR HIM. 
 
 appreciate these noble qualities, so congenial also to 
 his own feelings of truth. They met therefore with 
 conscious sincerity, with full and entire confidence. 
 By an open and frank avowal of his sentiments, Mr. 
 Parker secured the lively esteem of Dr. Buckminster, 
 and every succeeding interview only served to strength 
 en the attachment of the one, and the almost filial rever 
 ence and respect of the other. Dr. B. was absent at 
 the ordination of Mr. Parker, and took no part in the 
 services. But cc I rejoice," said he, lc that the South 
 Parish have such a minister ; he is an honest young 
 man, devoted to his profession ; he will be a staff to 
 me in my declining years." And they ever lived to 
 gether like intimate and confidential friends. 
 
 The widow of one of the deacons of the south 
 church, having heard whispers of heresy against " the 
 new young man," waited upon Dr. Buckminster as soon 
 as he returned from the journey, and asked him if she 
 had not better leave the heretical minister and join his 
 own church, where she would hear a sounder doctrine. 
 u Stay where you are," said he ; "if you practice as 
 well as Mr. Parker preaches, you will not need to go 
 anywhere else." 
 
 The union of the two parishes continued uninterrupt 
 ed. The two pastors, the elder and the younger, were 
 usually companions at all ministers meetings, ordina 
 tions, and occasions of professional excursion ; and Dr. 
 Buckminster always came home exhilarated by the cheer 
 ful intercourse of a younger and fresher mind. Certainly 
 the acquisition of such a friend and companion as Mr. 
 Parker contributed more to his happiness, in the few 
 remaining years of his life, than any other circumstance 
 that attended them. Theirs was a beautiful example 
 
PRESIDENT APPLETON. 357 
 
 of a union in the spirit of their Master, which merged 
 all speculative differences of opinion in a superior love 
 to him, and attachment to his cause. 
 
 The year preceding the settlement of Mr. Parker, 
 the circle of his ministerial associates and friends had 
 been much weakened by the removal of Dr. Appleton 
 from Hampton to become the President of Bowdoin 
 College, thus depriving the Piscataqua Association of 
 one of its most distinguished members, and Dr. Buck- 
 minster of the cordial intercourse of a beloved friend. 
 The diversity of opinion and unity of feeling in that 
 Association has been already mentioned ; but Dr. Buck- 
 minster and Dr. Appleton were not only united in the 
 bonds of a warm personal regard, but in speculative 
 opinion they came as near as any two minds of different 
 mental endowment could come, to the same views of 
 controverted subjects. They were both impressive 
 preachers, but they differed extremely in their mode 
 of delivering truth. Dr. Appleton was never impas 
 sioned, but he imparted to his sermons the force of his 
 own convictions, and his eloquence and his arguments 
 were irresistibly convincing to the understanding. Dr. 
 Buckminster s sermons were rarely argumentative ; his 
 manner was impassioned, his eloquence persuasive, 
 rather tending to excite emotion and alarm conscience 
 than to place the subject within the grasp of the in 
 tellect. 
 
 These two friends spent much time together, and, 
 after their separation, kept up a frequent intercourse 
 by letter. It is to be regretted that the correspondence 
 was not preserved. 
 
 There may appear to the reader some discrepancy 
 and inconsistency in the accounts that have been given 
 
358 VARIATION IN DR. BUCKMINSTER S 
 
 of Dr. Buckminster s feelings at different times with 
 regard to his own religious views. It may appear some 
 what surprising, that, after being acquainted with so much 
 diversity of opinion in the Piscataqua Association, he 
 should have regarded his son s deviation from orthodox 
 views with so much surprise and displeasure ; and again., 
 that, at a later period, he should have looked upon Mr. 
 Parker s settlement with so much leniency, if not com 
 placency. It must he remembered that it was only 
 upon two points that his son s heresy excited surprise : 
 the denial of the Trinity, the assertion of the inferi 
 ority of the Son to the Father, and, consequently, an 
 inadequate atonement for sin. In his father s words, 
 tc He did not believe the proper Deity and Divinity 
 of Christ, nor his vicarious satisfaction and atonement 
 for the sins of men." 
 
 It does not appear, and I believe it is a fact, that 
 there was no denial of the Trinity in the Piscataqua 
 Association before the introduction of Mr. Parker into 
 its number. If there had been, his settlement would 
 not have been discussed and opposed as it was, by some 
 members of the Association. It was also Mr. Parker s 
 noble personal character, his unusual talents and graces 
 as a minister, that won Dr. Buckminster s warmest es 
 teem and friendship before he was settled in the South 
 Parish in Portsmouth. Dr. Buckminster, not wishing 
 to oppose his settlement, and being too conscientious 
 to take a part in it, embraced the excuse that the fail 
 ing health of one of his daughters presented, to take 
 a journey, and absent himself from the ordination. 
 
 Although always a sincere follower of Calvin, his 
 religious views were greatly modified by the state of 
 his health. When he was struggling with nervous de- 
 
RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS. 359 
 
 pression, his religious feelings were deepened into gloomy 
 views of sin, and of the depravity of the heart, and the 
 unworthiness of man. 
 
 At the time his son was beginning to preach, the life 
 of his beloved wife was just drawing to a close, and his 
 spirits were greatly depressed ; while, on the contrary 
 Mr. Parker s settlement took place at a period in Dr. 
 Buckminster s life when he enjoyed an unusual degree 
 of health and freedom from depression. Such a re 
 sult of nervous hypochondria is not at all unusual. The 
 writer is intimately acquainted with the case of a lady, 
 who is subject to seasons of great nervous depression. 
 When she is in good health, she is a decided Unitarian ; 
 but as soon as her disease returns, she is overwhelmed 
 with the fears and the gloom of Calvinism. 
 
 Soon after my brother s return from Europe, he had 
 undertaken the task of housekeeping by himself. He 
 had found inconveniences in boarding, and the parish, 
 with their usual liberality, had, while he was absent, 
 added a new story, and thoroughly repaired the parson 
 age-house. He furnished his rooms with a frugality little 
 in accordance with the splendor of his library. He 
 grudged every expense that was not devoted to the in 
 side or the outside of a book : the latter, indeed, bore no 
 proportion to the former. He spent little in elegant bind 
 ings, although he deprecated the avarice which should 
 diminish the mere luxury of literature. He soon found 
 that his experiment of housekeeping involved him in 
 petty cares and vexatious troubles, which none but the 
 feebler sex can bear with exemplary patience. His 
 incessant occupation, his nightly protracted studies, 
 and the precarious state of his health, caused his friends 
 
360 THE SISTER OF J. S. BTJCKMINSTER. 
 
 to regard him with trembling interest, and excited the 
 most lively anxiety in his father, till he at length yielded 
 to the incessant solicitations of the brother, and consented 
 that his eldest sister should join him in Boston, and take 
 the place of the head of his family. He hoped that 
 having a sister with him would insensibly lead him to 
 relaxation from his midnight studies, and induce him to 
 give more time to social and domestic pleasures. 
 
 The reluctance of Dr. Buckminster to allow his 
 daughters to leave the retirement of home has been 
 already mentioned. He deprecated for them the for 
 mation of a taste for luxury, and for the elegances of 
 life, which he feared would make them less happy in the 
 humble and simple home in which they had been born, 
 and in which, as he thought, they were destined to live. 
 It was also at no little sacrifice of daily joy and comfort 
 that he consented to the absence of his eldest daughter 
 from his own home. She was necessary to both father 
 and brother. Could she have divided her disinterested 
 care, as she did her affections, between them, there 
 would have been enough for both ; but whoever had once 
 had the happiness of her presence in domestic life could 
 but reluctantly consent to part with her again. She 
 brought with her into a house the spirit of order and 
 perfect arrangement. Cheerfulness and tranquil con 
 tentment entered with gentle footsteps, like ministering 
 spirits, and gladdened the roof under which she dwelt ; 
 and when she departed from it the sunlight of quiet 
 happiness went with her. 
 
 "Not learned, save in gracious household ways; 
 No angel, but a dearer being, all dipped 
 In angel instincts, breathing Paradise; 
 Interpreter between the gods and men; 
 And looked all native to her place." 
 
FAMILY LETTERS. 361 
 
 A short extract from one of her letters will show, 
 that, if her brother s house was a scene of more varied 
 and more intellectual pleasures, the one she left was not 
 without its tranquil happiness. 
 
 " Our family have never been so well as at present. My 
 father is in good health and fine spirits. He is to preach the 
 sermon before the Female Asylum, at Newburyport, and 
 also at the ordination of Mr. Thurston, at Manchester, and 
 will probably make you a visit in Boston ; this last, how 
 ever, is only a conjecture of mine, so that you must not rely 
 too much upon it. The lovely M. G. has been passing a 
 few days with us, and adding to the charms of our little 
 parlour. There is no place, I believe, in the wide world, 
 where more happiness is enjoyed, especially when you visit 
 us. We are all in perfect health, my father in good spirits, 
 with a kind parish, good, and some very agreeable, friends ; 
 we are above all want, although possessing none of the super 
 fluities of life; the little children are good and improving; 
 cheerfulness reigns in our house, and, I hope, gratitude in 
 our hearts. Our happiness would be greater, if you could 
 be with us oftener ; but we please ourselves, as soon as you 
 are gone, by anticipating the next visit. With the best 
 wishes that the heart can dictate, or the pen express, I am 
 your affectionate sister, 
 
 " L. M. B." 
 
 Of the large number of family letters that passed 
 w.Jiile the brother urged, and the father reluctantly con 
 sented, to break in upon the union, and divide the mem 
 bers of his family, only two or three are inserted. The 
 father s fears were prophetic. The family never met 
 again beneath the parental roof. The whole number 
 never met again in life ; and a most singular fatality 
 divided them also in death. Of Dr. Buckminsiers 
 31 
 
362 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 twelve children, except some young infants, who^ are 
 buried in Portsmouth, only two rest together, Joseph 
 and his eldest sister repose beneath the shades of Mount 
 Auburn. The graves of the others are scattered over 
 New England. 
 
 The old parsonage-house, in Portsmouth, with noth 
 ing attractive in its exterior, with no architectural 
 beauty, small and inconvenient in its rooms, dark and 
 shaded in its aspect, is yet filled with touching memo 
 ries. Its low-roofed rooms are yet eloquent to one 
 heart. Every beam has witnessed the prayers of the 
 father. Angel faces look back, sweet, youthful voices 
 echo through its silent rooms, and every beloved name 
 is covered with the flowers of memory. The thousand 
 silken ties that bind families together in their youth are 
 like the gossamer webs which lie so thick upon the grass 
 in a summer s morning ; they must be steeped in the 
 dew of tears before they are perceived in all their rain 
 bow colors. 
 
 " January, 1808. 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER, Though I have often had the 
 pleasure of hearing about you, I really cannot recollect 
 when I last received a letter from you. Mr. Emerson has 
 told me that he found you well, both in body and mind. 
 Being absent, I hear of your estate ; and under the terms 
 of mind, body, and estate, is comprehended, in the English 
 liturgy, all for which we can pray when we remember our 
 friends at the Throne of Grace. In the last two of these, I 
 am, by God s blessing, sufficiently prosperous ; at least, my 
 health is as good as I can expect, and my estate far better 
 than I deserve. As to my mind, I doubt not you pray that 
 it may be seasoned with grace and knowledge ; I hope your 
 prayers will be heard. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 363 
 
 " As to the subject of my being married, I go so little 
 into the company of young people, that I hardly think of it. 
 I must be allowed to wait till something offers that attracts 
 me spontaneously, and that is truly eligible. I shall never 
 set out coolly in the pursuit of a wife. My present situation 
 I believe not injurious to my ministerial character. If I am 
 deficient in some of the private sympathies of a pastor, I 
 hope I shall be enabled to make amends as a public in 
 structor. 
 
 " Do not leave me without hope of the presence and sol 
 ace of one of my sisters. Think, my dear sir, how solitary 
 you would feel could you not hear the voices of your chil 
 dren, and the echo of footsteps beside your own. Spare 
 me one of my sisters." 
 
 " February, 1808. 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER, You are unwilling that either of 
 my sisters should make my house her residence. If I could 
 perceive the shadow of an objection, or that it could be in 
 any way injurious to them or to me, I would not urge it. 
 But really I know not the shadow of an objection upon the 
 score of delicacy or advantage. One of them would be 
 extremely useful to me, and agreeable to my friends. I 
 sincerely hope that no fancied prospect of my being more 
 easily led to change my condition, in consequence of being 
 left alone, will have any operation upon your decision. 
 
 " E. would be a great addition to my comfort ; let her 
 come up with L., and in a few weeks one may return, and 
 the other will be less uneasy at being left alone. On the 
 score of expense, there is no objection. I do not find that 
 the addition of one or two makes any difference. I cannot 
 do without one or the other of them. I chatter like a swal 
 low, and mourn like a dove upon the housetops 
 
 " I find the labors of my profession do not diminish with 
 time. I ought not to expect they should. If I should be 
 
364 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 blessed as the means of doing any good, I shall cheerfully 
 submit to the dispensations of Providence, if they should 
 even compe] me to give up my profession for ever. I trust 
 I am prepared for any result of my malady. 
 
 " I send herewith ten copies of a little devotional work, 
 which I have just had published. If you know any young 
 men, to whom it will be likely to be profitable, I hope you 
 will dispose of them. Yours, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
 To which his father answered : 
 
 "My DEAR SON, I pity your lonely state, but I think 
 you had much better lead about a wife than a sister. It 
 is not my own interest or necessities that form the ground 
 of my objection to your sisters residing with you ; it is the 
 dread of their being allured from the retirement and the 
 regular habits of their father s house into circles that afford 
 food for their literary and worldly ambition, of which they 
 have a full share ; and this, I fear, will disqualify them 
 for that sphere where alone I would wish them to shine, 
 and give them a distaste for those enjoyments without which 
 it had been better for us never to have been born. God has 
 blessed me with amiable and respectful children, but I have 
 no evidence that they have, any of them, so heard and 
 learned of the Father that they have come to Christ. I hope 
 God has much happiness in store for them ; but it will never 
 be found in worldly pleasures, or ambitious pursuits. But I 
 must yield to your request. One of your sisters shall go 
 and spend some weeks with you, and there is no gallant 
 they would prefer to their brother, whenever it is convenient 
 for you to come for them." 
 
 To persons of different religious views from Dr. 
 Buckminster, it may appear surprising, that, in answer to 
 the very letter in which his son expresses such entire 
 
MUSIC. 365 
 
 acquiescence in the will of Providence, as to feel him 
 self ready to submit to any, to the most appalling, con 
 sequences of his malady, his father should have an 
 swered, that " he had no evidence that any of his chil 
 dren had so learned of the Father as to come to Christ." 
 Certainly his son had come to the spirit of Christ ; and 
 where else had he gained that religious submission which 
 made him willing to give up his ministry, his studies, 
 the objects of his dearest wishes and his fondest hopes, 
 if it should please his Father in heaven to lay such a 
 burden of affliction upon him ? It was not stupidity, for 
 he had the keenest perception of the consequences of 
 his malady. Certainly it was not a proof of an unholy 
 ambition to be willing, if it so pleased the Giver of his 
 gifts, to descend from the beautiful aspirations of genius 
 and wisdom to the lowest state in the condition of in 
 tellect. 
 
 As soon as my brother had. obtained the permanent 
 presence of a sister,* as an inmate of his house, his 
 friends remarked the increase of his cheerfulness, his 
 freedom from care, and the entire confidence with which 
 he reposed upon her love and faithfulness. This added 
 a charm to his bachelor s parsonage, increased his ac 
 quaintance with the younger members of his parish, and 
 his house soon became the hospitable rendezvous of his 
 friends from Portsmouth. Music was still his chief rec 
 reation ; and, after his sister was with him, he no sooner 
 heard of a distinguished female voice than he became 
 impatient till he could persuade the possessor of such a 
 treasure to consent to come and accompany him at the 
 organ ; for this purpose, the instrument was removed to 
 
 * Afterwards the wife of Professor John Farrar, of Cambridge. 
 31* 
 
366 SUNDAY EVENING CONVERSATION. 
 
 his sister s parlour, and the reunions there were among 
 the most delightful in Boston. 
 
 The gentlemen of his parish, and others of his friends, 
 had long been in the habit of collecting on Sunday 
 evenings in his study. He was the centre of a little 
 circle, from whom he received as much as he gave. 
 There is no evening in the week when a clergyman feels 
 so much at his ease, and so ready to enjoy social pleas 
 ures, as after the labors of that day are over. The 
 Sabbath has been no day of rest to him, but, if his heart 
 is in his profession, it is one of keen enjoyment. He 
 has finished the work of the week, and there is a pause 
 till the next day. The sermons upon which he has spent 
 so much anxious thought, every other day of the week, 
 have been preached ; they are off his mind, and it rises 
 with elasticity from the pressure. He has looked down, 
 too, through the day, upon the attentive and thoughtful 
 faces of attached friends ; they have encouraged and 
 strengthened him by their respectful attention to his 
 gravest counsels, and now he can listen and learn from 
 them, in the hours of mutual and equal confidence. 
 
 There were a few gentlemen who scarcely ever omit 
 ted a Sunday evening s visit. Among those who hon 
 ored him the most frequently with their presence were 
 the Hon. Samuel Dexter, Judge Parker and Judge 
 Hall, James Savage, William Wells, etc. Their host 
 thought their conversation sufficiently interesting, on one 
 of these evenings, to preserve notes of it in his journal. 
 
 " February. Sunday evening. There was much inter 
 esting conversation on the natural probability of the future 
 existence of man. * Why, says Mr. Dexter, may not 
 death be merely a crisis in one s existence ? Analogy in 
 
SUNDAY EVENING CONVERSATION. 367 
 
 the chrysalis, etc., reproduction of plants annually. Ob 
 jection : They are not the same plants, but a succession 
 of different individuals. Perennials, which die and re 
 vive not again, are a counter analogy. Qucere, from , 
 
 about consciousness, whether it is necessary to constitute 
 personal identity ? It cannot be. Is it, then, a sufficient 
 argument to encourage us to virtue, that we are promoting 
 the happiness of a being which shall have no consciousness 
 of what has been done here ? Why may it not be said, 
 
 remarked , if consciousness do not constitute identity, 
 
 that, by behaving well here, you are adding one to the list of 
 happy beings hereafter, but one who is no more yourself 
 than Alexander ? 
 
 " Mr. . Is not the mode in which men learn to admire 
 
 the works of the great masters, Raphael, Michel Angelo, 
 precisely similar to the mode in which the pathetic affec 
 tions must be generated ? By continual study to generate 
 these feelings, and by familiar and uninterrupted acquaint 
 ance, lest the taste acquired be lost by other pursuits ? The 
 religious affections, when in their highest state, are delicate 
 and retired, like the internal admiration of an artist for a 
 
 wonderful work. Mr. . Sir Joshua Reynolds says, 
 
 if you relish not Homer and Virgil, read them till you do, 
 and do not suspect the whole world has been deceived in 
 their admiration. 
 
 " Mr. . Why was not Jesus married, to set us an 
 
 example of the duties of that state ? Answer. It would 
 have been inconsistent with the nature of his life and mis 
 sion. Mr. D. Was the recommendation of celibacy in 
 
 the Church from his example r Mr. related the 
 
 speech of Lord Chatham upon the subject of the king s 
 speech, an admirable imitation. Mr. D. expatiated upon 
 the character of Washington, and told anecdotes of his re 
 serve and dulness in conversation, and asked whether in 
 vention be a faculty necessary to constitute a great man. 
 
368 LETTER OF REV. DR. SPRAGUE. 
 
 " Mr. asked, 4 Is there any connection between dif 
 ferent views of religion and the state of the affections ? Is 
 
 there, in fact, said , any difference, except in degree, 
 
 between the moral characters of men who are accounted 
 religious ?^ This is the most difficult question in religion. 
 What is the nature of true virtue? * How strange it is, 
 said D., that the first principles in morals should be so ob 
 scure ! Is there any real difference in kind between the 
 religion of Dr. Doddridge and Dr. Lardner, for instance ? 
 or does the difference result from natural temperament? 
 The question is not to be determined by particular exam 
 ples, perhaps, but by a general comparison of religious 
 men of all persuasions. The poetry of Watts and Dod 
 dridge is most fervent; did this in any degree depend upon 
 their views of doctrine, or on natural temperament ? " 
 
 As this was the period of my brother s short life 
 during which he enjoyed the greatest vigor of body and 
 perhaps the most effective energy of mind, I am happy 
 to be permitted to add the testimony of a friend,* then 
 young and enthusiastic, indeed, who visited him at this 
 time. 
 
 " My recollections of Mr. Buckminster are exceedingly 
 vivid, as well as somewhat minute ; for they are among 
 the most cherished recollections of my whole life ; but then 
 you must bear in mind, that, when I knew him, I was but a 
 boy of fifteen, and I never saw him except for the few 
 days which I then spent in his family. I will tell you liter 
 ally everything that I can remember concerning him 
 
 "About this time, Mr. Abbot, of Coventry, Conn., whose 
 pupil I was, in consequence of having declared himself a 
 Unitarian, was arraigned by the Consociation of Tolland 
 
 * Rev. Dr. Sprague, of Albany. 
 
LETTER OF REV. DR. SPRAGUE. 369 
 
 county for heresy, and dismissed from his charge, and, as 
 the phrase then was, silenced. He, however, refused to 
 acknowledge the jurisdiction of the body that tried him, 
 and continued some time, by request of the parish, to 
 officiate as usual. The parish and himself agreed to call 
 another council, to whose adjudication the existing difficul 
 ties should be referred ; and this council consisted chiefly 
 of clergymen from Boston and the vicinity. Mr. Abbot, I 
 think, more to gratify me than for anything else, proposed 
 
 to me to go to Boston and carry the letters missive 
 
 "It was by no means among the least "important of the 
 circumstances which I anticipated in connection with my 
 journey, that it would give me the opportunity of seeing 
 Mr. Buckminster ; for besides hearing Mr. Abbot talk of 
 him in terms of unmeasured praise, I had read his sermon 
 on Governor Sullivan over and over, with the greatest admi 
 ration, so that I could repeat large portions of it. Mr. Abbot 
 gave me a letter to him, and directed me to call upon him 
 immediately on my arrival in Boston. Accordingly, on 
 reaching Boston, I found my way to the Brattle Street Church 
 parsonage, and was met at the door by a gentleman, dressed 
 in a sort of gray frock-coat,* with whose appearance I was 
 exceedingly struck, of whom I inquired if Mr. Buckminster 
 was at home. He said yes, and asked me to walk in. 
 After conversing with him for some time, and not dreaming 
 that he was Mr. Buckminster, and yet wondering what more 
 Mr. Buckminster could be, I asked him if I was right in 
 supposing him to say that Mr. Buckminster was at home. 
 O, yes, he replied, I am he. I then gave him my letter, 
 which he read ; and, after making an inquiry or two concern- 
 
 * This was a half-military frock-coat of iron gray, which he had 
 made to travel in during his journey on the Continent, at a time when 
 the military costume alone commanded respect. After his return, the 
 embroidery was taken off the collar, and it served him as a study 
 coat for several years. 
 
370 LETTER OF REV. DR. SPRAGUE. 
 
 ing Mr. Abbot, he told me that I must come and stay with 
 him while I remained in Boston. I asked him to excuse 
 me, though for no other reason than that I feared it would 
 be indelicate for me to accept the invitation. He said he 
 should not excuse me, and that I must stay and make him 
 a visit ; that he would show me the town, etc. The short 
 of it was, that he insisted upon sending for my luggage, 
 and I stayed in his house, in all, nearly a week. 
 
 " One of the first things he did was to accompany me 
 to see Dr. Lathrop, to whom I had a letter (missive) from 
 Mr. Abbot. The old gentleman came out of his study, 
 wearing an immense gown, and said that he was busy, 
 writing Dr. Eckley s funeral sermon, but found it very 
 
 difficult to get into his subject I think it was upon 
 
 leaving Dr. Lathrop s that he took me to the top of the 
 Exchange, which, he said, commanded the best view of the 
 town ; and then he pointed out to me various interesting 
 objects, of which I had often heard, but which I saw then 
 for the first time. He wished me to feel entirely at home, 
 and to stay with him in his study whenever it was pleasant 
 to me ; and I assure you that it was so pleasant to me, that 
 I was little disposed to be anywhere else. I had from my 
 childhood a passion for reading eloquent sermons, and es 
 pecially for gathering pamphlets ; and, having found in a 
 corner of his study a quantity of pamphlets stowed away, 
 I set myself to examining them. When he saw what I was 
 about, he laughed a little at what he thought my odd taste, 
 but told me to keep at it and to select from the mass for 
 myself whatever I cared for; and I actually took him at 
 his word, and selected enough to make a large bundle. 
 
 " Of course, my most important day with him was Sunday. 
 I went with him to church in the morning, and heard him 
 preach and administer the communion. The subject of 
 his discourse was baptism. It was, so far as I remember, 
 entirely of a didactic character. I have an idea that it 
 
LETTER OF REV. DR. SPRAGUE. 371 
 
 was not among his most eloquent productions ; and yet 
 everything that he said operated upon me like a charm. 
 The tones of his voice have not ceased to vibrate upon my 
 ears to this day ; and I often try to render my impressions 
 of them more vivid, by an attempt to imitate them. I do 
 not remember that there was much passion evinced in his 
 manner, but there was a calm dignity, an inimitable grace 
 fulness of attitude and gesture, a countenance radiant with 
 intelligence and benevolence, and, above all, an impressive 
 solemnity that spoke of the reality and the depth of his con 
 victions, such as I do not remember ever to have witnessed 
 in the same admirable combination. I recollect that he 
 prayed with his eyes open, elevated at an angle of about 
 forty-five degrees, and perfectly fixed. I had never seen 
 the same thing before, and it was then, as it is still, a matter 
 of wonder how he could do it. In the afternoon, he preached 
 a sermon with some reference to the death of Dr. Eckley, 
 which he wrote while I was with him in his study, but which 
 I did not hear him preach : I heard Dr. Griffin at Park Street. 
 
 " After the second service, he appeared greatly exhaust 
 ed 
 
 " In the evening, Mr. William Wells, and some other 
 gentlemen whose names I do not recollect, came and passed 
 an hour or two in his study, and he took his full share in 
 the conversation. 
 
 " Though I remained several days with him at this time, 
 he told me that I must be sure and come and see him again 
 on my return from Beverly, and some other places which 
 I had occasion to visit. I assure you I needed nothing 
 more than an invitation to bring me back to him ; and when 
 I came back, he greeted me with as much affection as if he 
 had been my father. On the morning that I finally left 
 him, he handed me a little note, which he asked me to de 
 liver at Mr. Wells s bookstore, containing a request that he 
 would give me, on his account, a copy of Griesbach s 
 
372 LETTER OF REV. DR. SPRAGUE. 
 
 New Testament, which he had then just edited, and of 
 Walker s Key, etc., the latter of which, he said, was de 
 signed to aid me in attaining a correct pronunciation. Un 
 fortunately, my old horse was so loaded clown with other 
 treasures that he had given me, particularly in the way of 
 pamphlets, that I was obliged to leave these more valuable 
 books behind ; and alas ! they were sold with his library." * 
 
 The same writer adds : 
 
 " It might seem like affectation if I were to tell you how 
 much his death affected me ; or, indeed, if I were to tell 
 you with what warmth and depth of affection I have cher 
 ished his memory ever since. I think of him always as 
 the most lovely, the most beautiful, the most exalted form 
 of humanity. I have met with many persons who cherish 
 a grateful and exalted impression both of his gifts and his 
 virtues ; but, strange as you may think it, T have never met 
 with one who seemed to love and venerate his memory as 
 I do myself. I confess that it is to myself somewhat of a 
 mystery. Doubtless something must be allowed for the in 
 fluence of a young imagination, and for some other peculiar 
 circumstances attending my visit, which I have not men 
 tioned ; but, however it may be accounted for, certain it is, 
 that, to this day, there is scarcely a name among the dead 
 that is embalmed in my heart amidst such warm and grateful 
 recollections as the name of Buckminster. I have never 
 hesitated to bear this testimony to his exalted character, 
 though his religious views, I suppose, were materially 
 different from my own. His published sermons, however, 
 contain little to which Christians of any denomination would 
 find occasion to object. I have in my mind, at this moment, 
 
 * The Greek Testament was finally recovered. It was bought at 
 the sale of Mr. Buckminster s library, by Rev. Mr. Huntington, and 
 cheerfully relinquished at the request of Mr. Everett. 
 
REMINISCENCES BY REV. DR. PIERCE. 373 
 
 Uvo or three of the greatest lights of the orthodox 
 pulpit, who have pronounced his sermons quite unrivalled 
 in that department of composition.* Robert Southey spoke 
 of them to me as decidedly among the finest in the lan 
 guage." 
 
 To the above I have the privilege of adding an 
 extract from the diary of the Rev. Dr. Pierce, of 
 Brookline, written at the time of his death, and express 
 ing the prevalent feeling of the community. After 
 speaking of his return from Europe, Dr. Pierce goes on 
 to say : 
 
 " His study became the resort of the first scholars among 
 us ; and his company was equally sought by people of fash 
 ion, of literature, and of religion. Every society, whether 
 for science, humanity, or religion, was desirous of enrolling 
 him among its members. He was a member of the Ameri 
 can Academy of Arts and Sciences, of the Historical So 
 ciety, of the Humane Society, of the Massachusetts Chari 
 table Fire Society, of the Christian Monitor Society, and 
 Corresponding Secretary of the Bible Society of Massachu 
 setts. He preached an acceptable sermon before the Fe 
 male Asylum, which he declined to publish. The last ser 
 mon that he wrote he delivered before the Christian Monitor 
 Society. t 
 
 " He was principally instrumental in inducing the Rev. 
 Noah Worcester to forsake the retirement he loved, and 
 come into the vicinity of Boston and Cambridge, where he 
 
 * " The gentlemen referred to are Dr. Samuel Stanhope Smith, of 
 Princeton, Dr. Inglis, of Baltimore, and Dr. Romaine, of New York." 
 
 t He was also an honorary member of the New York Historical 
 Society, an officer of the Society just created for the Improvement of 
 Seamen, and, at the time of his death, one of the School Committee 
 of Boston. 
 
 32 
 
374 REMINISCENCES BY REV. DR. PIERCE. 
 
 ceased not but with life to cooperate with the friends of 
 peace and of liberal Christianity. 
 
 " Mr. Buckminster was rather below the common size, 
 muscular, and well proportioned. His countenance was ex 
 tremely expressive, lighted up with eyes irresistibly fasci 
 nating. His manners were highly polished, but perhaps 
 no person was ever farther removed from flattery. On the 
 other hand, he was exceedingly open-hearted, and often 
 told people truths which would hardly have been tolerated 
 from any other person. He was the delight of the ladies ; 
 but never did he procure their favor by studied attentions, 
 and perhaps no lady ever suspected herself to be the object 
 of them. In small circles, he was usually sociable ; but 
 sometimes he would appear absent in company, probably 
 from the circumstance that he had not completely relaxed 
 his mind from the last pursuit in which he was engaged. 
 
 " His brethren of the Boston Association will long re 
 member the pleasure and instruction which he never failed 
 to impart to their circle ; with what readiness he entered into 
 their sympathies ; what light he cast upon their most per 
 plexing topics ; and what assistance he afforded in their 
 most embarrassing situations. 
 
 " In the pulpit, Mr. Buckminster ranked among the very 
 first preachers which this or any other country has pro 
 duced. His sermons were written in a style, simple, ner 
 vous, perspicuous, adorned with captivating figures. It was 
 impossible to withhold attention from him. He seemed to 
 have a perfect command of his audience, and, as occasion 
 required, he could at once excite all the lively emotions of 
 the soul. His peculiar excellence consisted in portraying 
 characters. Hence some of his most acceptable sermons 
 have been those which treated of the characters of Peter, of 
 Paul, of Philemon, and of Christ. He had the faculty, as a 
 preacher, of interesting those who would be interested in 
 the services of no other man. Under his preaching, it is 
 
REMINISCENCES BY REV. DR. ABBOT. 375 
 
 believed that many have been induced to attend to the sub 
 ject of religion in earnest, who might otherwise have been 
 slumbering in indifference. " * 
 
 The venerable clergyman mentioned in the letter of 
 Dr. Sprague, now living at the age of eighty, f writes 
 thus : 
 
 44 No person could become acquainted with Mr. Buck min 
 ster without loving him. He was a perfect man. On see 
 ing him once, his image could not be blotted from the mind. 
 I am greatly indebted to his kindness. When feeling 
 obliged, by my situation, to give the Trinitarian hypothesis a 
 thorough examination, I wrote to Dr. Kirkland, requesting 
 him to purchase for me the best treatises on the Trinitarian, 
 Arian, and Socinian hypotheses. He sent in the package a 
 number of books from Mr. Buckminster, having his name 
 in them. When the consociation was convoked at Coventry, 
 I wrote to him, requesting his advice. Afterwards, at Bos 
 ton, he introduced me to his brethren. When I asked him 
 if he would be one of a mutual council, if one was called, 
 he advised me to invite older men than himself." 
 
 The answer to the letter referred to in the last ex 
 tract is here introduced : 
 
 "Boston, Jan. 12th, 1811. 
 
 44 MY DEAR SIR, I have delayed writing to you till the 
 present time for several reasons ; the principal of which 
 was, however, that I might be able to write more positively 
 on the subject about which you are most interested. It ap 
 pears to me, that, if you are compelled to call an exparte 
 council, it should be composed of the most grave and ex 
 perienced men you can procure. I presume, from what 
 you have before said, that Dr. Dana and Dr. Lee could be 
 
 * From the diary of Rev. John Pierce, D. D., June, 1812. 
 t Rev. Abiel Abbot, D. D., now of Peterborough, N. H. 
 
376 LETTER TO DR. ABBOT. 
 
 obtained from Connecticut, and these, united with Drs. 
 Reed and Sanger, of Bridgewater, Kendall, of Weston, Ban 
 croft, of Worcester, etc., and, perhaps, one or two more 
 from this town, would compose a sufficiently large and re 
 spectable assembly. I find that Dr. Pierce, of Brookline, 
 absolutely declines, and so, I fear, would Mr. Channing. In 
 speaking with the latter on the subject, his impressions 
 seemed to be that it was not proper to send to ministers so 
 young, or of so short standing in the Church, as himself. 
 
 " If a vote of censure, or of excommunication, should 
 pass against you in the consociation, I presume you will con 
 tinue to preach and minister to those who still choose to at 
 tend upon your ministry in Coventry. This, I think, is due 
 to their attachment to you. If any part of the Church re 
 main with you, I see not what you will gain by the calling 
 of an exparte council, except it be the form of a regular 
 ministerial character, and you can best tell whether that is 
 of much consequence in the minds of your friends in Cov 
 entry. If the council should be thought important, perhaps 
 it is not immediately necessary, and might be deferred till 
 the season is milder. I wish, that, if a council is called, 
 it should be very respectable, and that, to the names al 
 ready mentioned, Dr. Osgood s might be added ; but noth 
 ing, I fear, would persuade him to leave home in winter. 
 " I am faithfully yours, 
 
 "J. S. B. 
 
 " P. S. If you wish to print any statement of facts, I 
 will take care to get it done without expense to you." 
 
 It has been already mentioned by Dr. Pierce, that 
 Mr. Buckminster was principally instrumental in inducing 
 the venerable Noah Worcester to come to the vicinity 
 of Boston. The writer well remembers the surprise 
 and enthusiasm which her brother expressed at the first 
 
NOAH WORCESTER. 377 
 
 appearance of cc Bible News," and the sanguine hope 
 he felt that it would aid the cause of free inquiry, and 
 ultimately of truth. When its author first visited Bos 
 ton, he was the welcome guest of his young friend at 
 the parsonage, and both Joseph arid his sister were 
 charmed by the patriarchal simplicity, the genuine and 
 fascinating urbanity and good sense, of their guest. My 
 brother died before Dr. Worcester could remove to the 
 vicinity of Boston ; and it has been remarked to the 
 writer, by a near relative, that he was overwhelmed with 
 grief at the death of his young friend, and felt that 
 much of the happiness he expected from his change of 
 residence was gone. 
 
 The venerable author of one of the last extracts 
 speaks of the general character of his attentions to the 
 other sex, and the interest with which he was regarded 
 by them. Although, in God s providence, he was 
 never permitted to form those intimate ties which are 
 so necessary to hearts fitted, as was his, to feel every 
 tender emotion, yet, had he lived to reach middle age, 
 surely to him would have been opened that fairest page 
 in the book of life, when every duty and every care 
 would have been lightened, and "the face of nature 
 made radiant with the light of love." No one can 
 have read his sermon on " The Influence of Chris 
 tianity upon the Character of the Female Sex," and 
 the sentiments scattered everywhere in his writings, 
 and not feel that he had the most generous, the most 
 impartial, and the most true appreciation of the nature 
 of woman ; no one can have remarked the frequent 
 pathos of his expressions, when speaking of the sorrows 
 of human hearts, and not feel that they were derived from 
 32* 
 
378 LETTER ON MARRIAGE. 
 
 real sensibility. A passage from a letter to a young 
 person, upon her intended marriage, shows how fully he 
 understood what must enter into the union to form a 
 happy marriage. 
 
 " MY DEAR : I -have long wished to find lime for 
 
 writing you a letter, more valuable than mine usually are, 
 upon a subject extremely interesting to you and therefore 
 
 to your friend. Mr. has impressed me in the most 
 
 favorable manner, and, for what I have not seen, I am wil 
 ling to take your word. But, my dear friend, if I had not 
 every reason to coincide with you in opinion of him, to 
 whom you have given the rich treasure of your love, I 
 should yet say, that a sincere and pious affection on both 
 sides is a sufficient ground for hopeful confidence in this 
 union. Time will form two pure and amiable souls for 
 each other, and religious principle, under the smiles of 
 Heaven, even in cases where superficial observers may not 
 see any peculiar coincidence of character, will mould your 
 dispositions into an harmonious and ever-increasing unity 
 of feeling. As you learn each other s tastes, views, and 
 principles, the love and fear of God, mingling with your 
 hopes for earth, will blend into a beautiful harmony for 
 eternity. 
 
 " You have been tutored in one of the best schools in the 
 world, and under the best religious influences. If you 
 should be married, the sphere of your cares and duties will 
 hardly be enlarged, though the sources of your happiness 
 will be multiplied. You will not indulge, I know, in great 
 expectations from the world and its pleasures, wherever you 
 may live ; yet, as your chiefest joy will be in your family, 
 and in seeing those under your influence blessed by your 
 example, you may expect much happiness without being 
 disappointed. May God bless you, my dear friend, and 
 
ON FEMALE CHARACTER. 379 
 
 bring you nearer to me, to increase my social blessings, 
 and to improve, by your example, the often feeble virtues 
 of your friend, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
 An extract from one of his sermons is given, to show 
 that he fully appreciated the character of woman. He 
 is addressing the Managers of the Female Asylum for 
 Orphan Children : 
 
 " Accustomed more to retirement than to active life, you 
 have more leisure, and consequent disposition, for religious 
 contemplations. It is also infinitely honorable to your char 
 acter that you ever feel a secret sympathy with a religion 
 which unlocks all the sources of benevolent affection, which 
 smiles on every exercise of compassion and every act of 
 kindness. We may say, too, that your hearts, not hardened 
 by the possession of power, the pains of avarice, or the 
 emulations of public life, are more alive to the accents of 
 pardon by Jesus Christ, more awake to the glories of the in 
 visible world. The Gospel came to throw a charm over 
 domestic life, and, in retirernen^, the first objects that it 
 found were mothers and their children. It came to bind up 
 the broken-hearted, and, for that office, woman was always 
 best prepared. It came to heal the sick, and woman was 
 already waiting at their couches. It came to open the gates 
 of life upon the languid eye of the dying penitent, and 
 woman was everywhere to be seen, softly tending at the 
 pillow, and closing the eyes of the departing 
 
 44 1 believe, that, if Christianity should be compelled to 
 flee from the mansions of the great, the academies of phi 
 losophers, the halls of legislation, or the throng of busy men, 
 we should find her last and purest retreat with woman, at 
 the fireside ; her last altar would be the female heart ; her 
 last audience would be the children gathered round the 
 
380 SISTERLY LOVE. 
 
 knees of a mother ; her last sacrifice, the secret prayer es 
 caping in silence from her lips, and heard only at the throne 
 of God." 
 
 With such appreciation of the tenderness of woman, 
 we must regret that he lived unmarried ; but, during a 
 part of his short life, he was not unaccompanied by the 
 truest, the most faithful and single-hearted affection. 
 The sister, who was so fortunate as to be his guardian, 
 watched over him with more than a sister s love. In 
 the attacks of his malady by night, hers was like the in 
 stinctive vigilance of a mother ; the wing of the night- 
 moth was sufficient to wake her, and bring her, like the 
 mother, to the couch of her sleeping treasure. 
 
 " But let him grieve, who cannot choose but grieve, 
 That he hath been an elm without his vine, 
 And her bright dower of clustering charities, 
 That round his trunk and branches might have clung 
 Enriching and adorning. Unto thee, 
 Not so enriched, not so adorned, to thee 
 Was given a sister, 
 
 In whom thy reason aiid intelligent heart 
 Found for all interests, hopes, and tender cares, 
 All softening, humanizing, hallowing powers 
 More than sufficient recompense." * 
 
 * Wordsworth. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SERMON ON THE DEATH OF GOVERNOR SULLIVAN. LETTER 
 
 ON DUELLING. BIBLE SOCIETY. ADDRESS BEFORE THE 
 
 SOCIETY OF 3>. B. K. THE ATHENJEUM. 
 
 1809. THE chapter begins with an extract from 
 
 Aged 25. t [ ]e journal of this year. 
 
 " January 2d. A new year has begun. In looking back 
 upon the events of my life the last year, I perceive little 
 or no improvement. Sure I am that my stock of theo 
 logical knowledge has not been increased, though I have rea 
 son to hope that my sermons for the last year have not been 
 inferior to any preceding ones. In the trials to which God 
 has exposed me, I endeavour to discern the designs of his 
 providence. The disorder to which I am still subjected ought 
 to be to me a perpetual lesson of humility and dependence. 
 I have sometimes thought, that, if our powers and state of 
 mind in another world depend at all upon the condition of 
 the intellect when we leave this, I should prefer to die be 
 fore my rnind shall be debilitated by this disorder. May this 
 consideration, with others, tend to keep me in a state of 
 perpetual willingness and readiness to depart. 
 
 " My greatest trial the past year has been the attack upon 
 my selection of hymns for the use of Brattle Street Church. 
 I cannot but think it insidious and impertinent. If I have 
 indulged in any improper feelings towards the supposed 
 author, I pray God to forgive me. At least, I hope they do 
 
382 EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 not appear in my reply. I have hitherto refrained, and shall 
 refrain, from reading the author s rejoinder, because, since 
 my friends tell me there is nothing in it requiring a reply, 
 I know not why I should put my tranquillity to the test which 
 the perusal would occasion. As to the principal and most 
 important charge in the review, of undeclared alterations, 
 I can put down here what it was not necessary to tell the 
 public, that I did not know of them till they wore pointed 
 out to me by the reviewer. I took the hymns, without any 
 alteration of my own, from the collection of Dr. Kippis.* 
 
 " I fear that the state of my affections has not been im 
 proved the last year ; yet I hope I have learned some 
 humility from the public and the secret opposition which 
 has been made to me as a minister. May God make my 
 motives pure and simple, and give me, this year, which is 
 now beginning, a deeper interest in the religious state of my 
 parish, and less concern for my own reputation." 
 
 In January of this year, was published the first ser 
 mon which he ever gave to the press. It was oc 
 casioned by the death of His Excellency, James Sulli 
 van. Governor Sullivan had been one of the most con 
 stant and zealous of his friends. He was chairman of 
 the Brattle Street Parish Committee, and all his in 
 tercourse with his pastor had been marked by the most 
 courteous, considerate, and affectionate friendship. 
 
 In this connection is introduced a letter to Governor 
 Sullivan, upon the subject of duelling. The corre 
 spondence arose from an animated conversation at the 
 table of the Governor, in which the subject was dis 
 cussed and defended. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, I know not whether you expected 
 * The reference is to a review in the " Panoplist." 
 
LETTER ON DUELLING. 383 
 
 a reply to the letter with which you favored me yesterday 
 morning ; but, upon reading it, I am strongly tempted to put 
 down a few thoughts on paper, and should have done it 
 yesterday, but all my time was taken up in preparation for 
 to-day. By sending these lines, however, I have no inten 
 tion of drawing you into a troublesome discussion of the 
 question of duelling. 
 
 " I thank you for your explanation of what I uttered, 
 perhaps, too hastily, that I would knock a man down who 
 should insult me in the street. How far it would be con 
 sistent with the spirit of a Christian 1 dare not say ; but, at 
 any rate, I meant only to express the probable effect of 
 strong passion, irresistibly excited in a mind so imperfectly 
 regulated as my own. I do not think, however, that this 
 affords any parallel to the revenge taken in a duel, because 
 the first is done in sudden passion, the last in cool blood. 
 
 " Allow me, also, though I am sensible of my ignorance 
 of law, to question whether the cases you have stated, 
 where murder in defence of one s reputation is softened 
 by our laws into homicide, are parallel to that of the 
 duellist, who deliberately kills a man out of regard to his 
 own reputation. Though it is permitted to kill an adulterer, 
 the act is justified, I conceive, not because it is done out 
 of regard to reputation, but because it is a provocation which 
 
 excites immediate passionate resentment The case 
 
 is the same with a woman who kills another in defence of 
 her chastity. There is an additional reason, too, in this 
 last instance, to justify the murder, and that is, that, if she 
 had it in her power, and did not kill the man, she never 
 could prove to the world that she did not in some measure 
 consent to the act. In the other instances which you ad 
 duce, when a man is killed in the act of breaking into your 
 house in the night, or of taking your purse on the high 
 way in the dark, the murder is palliated, not because it is 
 committed in defence of your property ; for if this were the 
 
384 LETTER ON DUELLING. 
 
 reason, it would be equally justifiable to kill the one in the 
 day-time, and the other when he offered no violence, or 
 craftily picked your pocket in the day-time. 
 
 " If duelling were any redress of the supposed injury, 
 (which it plainly is not, because the chance of being killed 
 is equal to the injurer and the injured, and, even if the 
 offender were always sure to fall, the other s character is 
 not cleared in the sight of God or man,) yet I conceive 
 that nothing can authorize us deliberately to seek satisfac 
 tion in the blood of a fellow-creature, in cases where we 
 ourselves are the unauthorized judges of the injury re 
 ceived, and where there is no standard but our own feel 
 ings, or the fickle opinions of the world, by which the in 
 jury can be estimated. If the unauthorized laws of honor 
 may be allowed to create exceptions to express commands 
 of God, there is an end of all laws, human and Divine. If 
 a man may redress his own wrongs by killing his neigh 
 bour, when he cannot appeal to the social compact for de 
 fence and remuneration, I see not why he may not chal 
 lenge him for not taking off his hat to him in the street, as 
 well as for insulting him more grossly. I see not why a 
 man may not make his own notions of honor the standard, 
 as well as the opinions of the world the umpire. 
 
 " My dear Sir, the only question on this subject is this : 
 whether a regard for our own reputation is sufficient to 
 
 justify us in deliberately taking the life of another 
 
 When, after these secular reasons, I turn to the spirit 
 of Christian morality, I can hardly forgive myself for pro 
 posing the question. Excuse the haste and inaccuracy with 
 which these lines are written. I presume my remarks are 
 already familiar to your own mind, and I must request your 
 indulgence for venturing to suggest them. 
 
 " Yours, with friendship and respect, 
 
 "J. S. B." 
 
MASSACHUSETTS BIBLE SOCIETY. 385 
 
 In July of this year was formed the Massachusetts 
 Bible Society. The public were prepared for it by an 
 address which appeared in the journals of the day. The 
 first Corresponding Secretary of the Society was Joseph 
 S. Buckminster. The address was written by him ; it 
 was circulated very extensively in the country, and was 
 afterwards published at some length, with distinguished 
 praise, in the Report of the British and Foreign Bible 
 Society. A few extracts from this address follow : 
 
 " You are invited, Christians, to lend your aid to the dis 
 tribution of the Bible. The revealed word of God is, and 
 ever has been, the source of what is most valuable in 
 human knowledge, most salutary in human institutions, most 
 pure in human affections, comfortable in human condition, 
 desirable and glorious in human expectations. Without 
 it, man returns to a state of nature, ignorant, depraved, 
 and helpless, left without assurances of pardon, and lost 
 to the way of recovery and life. It is the pearl of great 
 price, to buy which the merchant in the parable sold all 
 that he had, and yet was rich. Without this, wealth is 
 poor, and the treasures of ancient wisdom and modern 
 science a mass of inanimate knowledge 
 
 " It was the most glorious consequence of the Reforma 
 tion to draw forth the Book of God from the obscurity in 
 which it had been kept, and, by giving translations in the 
 vernacular tongues, to throw open its treasures to the peo 
 ple, and thus also to secure them for ever against its future 
 loss. It was the unsealing of the fountain of life, that its 
 waters might flow freely for the healing of the people. We, 
 too, in New England, ought never to forget, that, to preserve 
 the authority of this Book unimpaired, and to enjoy the 
 privilege of a free conscience, enlightened and emboldened 
 by its truth, our forefathers crossed the ocean with little 
 33 
 
386 MASSACHUSETTS BIBLE SOCIETY. 
 
 more than this volume in their hands, and its spirit in their 
 hearts ; and if there is now in the character and circum 
 stances of their posterity anything worth preserving, to 
 this Book are we to trace the good which remains, and to 
 look also for the improvement which is to come 
 
 " He who came to preach the Gospel to the poor, to 
 bind up the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the 
 captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, when he was 
 reading this very passage out of the Book of God in the Jew 
 ish synagogue, added, This day is this Scripture fulfilled 
 in your ears. Christians, we call on you to accomplish 
 this prediction among us, by sending the Gospel, all simple 
 and salutary as it is, wherever it may be wanted ; to the 
 dwellings of the poor and distressed ; to the huts of the 
 distant and solitary ; to the chamber of the prisoner and 
 the cell of the criminal ; and last, though not least, to the 
 bedside of the old, whose eyes, dimmed with the rheum 
 
 of age, can yet spell out its contents In short, 
 
 if in some cases we can only prolong the pleasures of aged 
 Christians by furnishing them with more legible copies of 
 their favorite volume, we shall not lose our reward with 
 him who cannot forget the gift of a cup of cold water in 
 his name to one of his little ones 
 
 " The influence of early instruction in the Scriptures is 
 sometimes sufficient to form the destiny and give the color to 
 the whole of life. It is an influence of which many culti 
 vated and uncultivated minds have been conscious, even after 
 they have too much relinquished the good habits of their 
 childhood, and, among them, the reading of the Bible. 
 The want of this Book in a rising family, where the parents 
 are poor and indifferent, the children ignorant and rude, 
 and left without the chance of gaining any religious ideas, 
 is a subject of serious thought to the philanthropist, who 
 only looks forward to the character of the next generation. 
 For from these another race is to be propagated, and in 
 
ORATION BEFORE THE * B K SOCIETY. 387 
 
 this new country perhaps other and vast regions peopled. 
 Need it be added, that the Christian philanthropist is obliged 
 to follow these fearful consequences to another and an eter 
 nal state of existence, where it will be too late to instruct 
 those we have neglected here, and where our charity can 
 neither ransom nor relieve ? " 
 
 In August of this year, 1809, he was appointed to 
 deliver the Discourse before the Society of Phi Beta 
 Kappa, at Harvard College. This is always considered 
 a distinguished honor. It is an exhilarating occasion. 
 The discourse is addressed to the aristocracy of letters 
 in this corner of the world, with the talent, learning, and 
 beauty of the neighbourhood for an audience. He 
 chose for his subject " The Dangers and Duties of 
 Men of Letters." Read now, after the lapse of forty 
 years, it has all the charm and freshness of a composition 
 of the day. 
 
 Some passages of this address are as applicable to the 
 state of our country now as at the lime when they w 7 ere 
 delivered. 
 
 " Is there a man who now hears me, who would not 
 rather belong to an enlightened arid virtuous community 
 than to the mightiest empire of the world, distinguished 
 only by its vastness ? If there is, let him cast his eye 
 along the records of states. What do we know of the vast, 
 unlettered empires of the East ? The far-extended con 
 quests of the Assyrian hardly detain us a moment in the 
 annals of the world, while the little state of Athens will for 
 ever be the delight of the historian and the pride of letters, 
 preserving, by the genius of her writers, the only remem 
 brance of the barbarian powers which overwhelmed her. 
 To come down to our own times : who would not rather have 
 been a citizen of the free and polished republic of Geneva, 
 
388 ORATION BEFORE THE 4> B K SOCIETY. 
 
 than wander a prince in the vast dominions of the Czar, or 
 bask in the beams of the present emperor of a desolated 
 continent ? 
 
 " In the usual course of national aggrandizement, it is al 
 most certain that those of you who shall attain to old age 
 will find yourselves the citizens of an empire unparalleled 
 in extent ; but is it probable that you will have the felicity of 
 belonging to a nation of men of letters ? The review of 
 our past literary progress does not authorize very lofty ex 
 pectations, neither does it leave us entirely without hope for 
 the lettered honor of our country. 
 
 " Our poets and historians, our critics and orators, the 
 men in whom posterity are to stand in awe, and by whom 
 they are to be instructed, are yet to appear among us. The 
 men of letters who are to direct our taste, mould our genius, 
 and inspire our emulation, the men, in fact, whose writings 
 are to be the depositories of our national greatness, have 
 not yet shown themselves to the world. But, if we are not 
 mistaken in the signs of the times, the genius of our literature 
 begins to show symptoms of vigor, and to meditate a bolder 
 flight, and the generation which is to succeed us will be 
 formed on better models, and leave a brighter track. The 
 spirit of criticism begins to plume itself, and education, as it 
 assumes a more learned form, will take a higher aim. If 
 we are not misled by our hopes, the dream of ignorance is 
 at least disturbed, and there are signs that the period is ap 
 proaching in which it will be said of our country, " Tuus 
 jam regnat Apollo" You, my young friends, are des 
 tined to witness the dawn of our Augustan age, and to con 
 tribute to its glory." 
 
 One other passage is added, upon the moral defects 
 to which scholars are exposed : 
 
 " The moral defects and faults of temper, to which schol- 
 
ORATION BEFORE THE $ B K SOCIETY. 389 
 
 ars are exposed, are not peculiar to any country. It is 
 everywhere the natural tendency of a life of retirement and 
 contemplation to generate the notion of innocence and moral 
 security ; but men of letters should remember, that, in the 
 eye of reason and Christianity, simple unprofitableness is al 
 ways a crime. They should know, too, that there are soli 
 tary diseases of the imagination, not less fatal to the mind 
 than the vices of society. He who pollutes his fancy with 
 his books may in fact be more culpable than he who is se 
 duced into the haunts of detbauchery by the force of passion 
 or example. He who, by his sober studies, only feeds his 
 selfishness or his pride of knowledge, may be more to blame 
 than the pedant or the coxcomb in literature, though not so 
 ridiculous. That learning, whatever it may be, which lives 
 and dies with the possessor, is more worthless than his 
 wealth which descends to his posterity ; arid where the heart 
 remains uncultivated and the affections sluggish, the mere 
 man of curious erudition may stand indeed as an object of 
 popular admiration, but he stands like the occasional pal 
 aces of ice in the regions of the north, the work of vanity, 
 lighted up with artificial lustre, yet cold, useless, and unin 
 habited, and soon to pass away without leaving a trace of 
 their existence. You, then, who feel yourselves sinking 
 under the gentle pressure of sloth, or who seek in learned 
 seclusion that moral security which is the reward only of 
 virtuous resolution, remember, you do not escape from 
 temptations, much less from responsibility, by retiring to 
 
 the repose and silence of your libraries The 
 
 infirmities of noble minds are often so consecrated by their 
 greatness that an unconscious imitation of their peculiari 
 ties, which are real defects, may sometimes be pardoned in 
 their admirers. But to copy their vices, or to hunt in their 
 works for those very lines which, when dying, they would 
 most wish to blot, is a different offence. I know of nothing 
 in literature so unpardonable as this. He who poaches 
 33* 
 
390 ORATION BEFORE THE * B K SOCIETY. 
 
 among the labors of the learned only to find what there is 
 polluted in their language or licentious in their works 
 he who searches the biographies of men of genius to find 
 precedents for his follies or palliations of his own stupid 
 depravity can be compared to nothing more appropri 
 ately than to the man who should walk through the gal 
 lery of antiques, and every day gaze upon the Apollo, the 
 Venus, or the Laocoon, and yet bring away an imagination 
 impressed with nothing but the remembrance that they were 
 naked." * 
 
 The whole of this address would repay, even at this 
 day, a careful perusal ; and, though forty years have 
 passed since it was written, the age has not advanced 
 beyond its demands. It is rich in eloquent thought, 
 and sparkling with gems of poetry. It must be recol 
 lected, that the author lived and died before the appear 
 ance of those magicians of our age, to whom we owe 
 such treasures of delight ; before Scott s novels had 
 given to history more than the charm of romance ; be 
 fore Byron had found such depths of tragic element 
 within the human heart ; before the transcendentalism of 
 Coleridge,- and Wordsworth, and Channing, had become 
 familiar forms of speech, and Carlyle and Dickens had 
 taught us to look from the ruffled and spotted plumage 
 of society to the bleeding heart within. Yet truth and 
 nature and poetry were the same, and the study of them 
 had been, to him, " their own exceeding great reward." 
 There was nothing, even in those compositions of his, 
 which were written just as he emerged from boyhood, 
 of morbid excess, or of repining sensibility ; and yet 
 there was that in his prospect of early death, or of a 
 worse calamity, to which they might have been for 
 given ; his habits of study, his devotion to truth, his 
 
LETTER OF PRESIDENT EVERETT. 391 
 
 entire reliance upon the paternal character of God, gave 
 him a perpetual joy in the intellectual gifts he had re 
 ceived, and an entire acquiescence in the providence 
 which should call him to part with them. 
 
 To the above I am permitted to add the testimony 
 of one whose words are ever chosen, appropriate, and 
 weighty, and whose genius seems to the writer kindred 
 to his who, at so early an age, made so deep and perma 
 nent an impression on his memory. The Hon. Edward 
 Everett thus recalls his impressions of the oration in 
 question : 
 
 " If I should attempt to fix the period at which I first 
 felt all the power of Mr. Buckminster s influence, it would 
 be at the delivery of his oration before the Phi Beta Kappa 
 Society, in August, 1809 ; at which time I had been two 
 years in college, but still hardly emerged from boyhood. 
 That address, although the standard of merit for such per 
 formances is higher now than it was then, will, I think, still 
 be regarded as one of the very best of its class, admirably 
 appropriate, thoroughly meditated, and exquisitely wrought. 
 It unites sterling sense, sound and various scholarship, pre 
 cision of thought, the utmost elegance of style, without 
 pomp or laborious ornament, with a fervor and depth of 
 feeling truly evangelical. These qualities, of course, are 
 preserved in the printed text of the oration. But the inde 
 scribable charm of his personal appearance and manner, 
 the look, the voice, the gesture and attitude, the unstudied 
 outward expression of the inward feeling, of these no 
 idea can be formed by those who never heard him. A bet 
 ter conception of what they might have been may probably 
 be gathered from the contemplation of Stuart s portrait 
 than from any description. I can never look at it without 
 fancying I catch the well-remembered expression of the liv- 
 
392 LETTER OF PRESIDENT EVERETT. 
 
 ing eye, at once gentle and penetrating, and hear the most 
 melodious voice, as I firmly believe, that ever passed the 
 
 lips of man 
 
 " I will only add, that I think he possessed, in a greater 
 degree than I have seen them combined in one person, an 
 intellect of great acuteness and power, a brilliant imagina 
 tion, a sound, practical judgment, a taste for literary re 
 search of all sorts, and especially for critical learning, to 
 gether with an elevation of moral feeling approaching to 
 austerity, (not in his judgments of others, but in his own 
 sense of duty,) and a devotional spirit rapt and tender al 
 most beyond the measure of humanity. To repeat his own 
 beautiful quotation, in the address above alluded to, in his 
 case, if ever among men, 
 
 1 True prayer 
 Has flowed from lips wet with Castalian dews. 
 
 " All this he was at the age of twenty-eight, when he was 
 taken from us. Had he lived to the ordinary age of man, it 
 seems to me that he gave an early assurance that he pos 
 sessed those intellectual and moral endowments, which 
 would have made him, in his profession, the foremost man 
 of his country and time." 
 
 There were other objects, upon which much of his 
 time was employed, objects of utility, that brought to 
 him neither applause nor reputation. Among his papers 
 are memoirs, subscriptions, and prefaces to books and 
 proposals, which had only a temporary interest, and 
 have passed away and are forgotten. Among those 
 which have since assumed a permanent and increasing 
 importance is the Athenaeum. His letters have shown 
 how deep an anxiety he felt about its prosperity and in 
 fluence. In this year, or the next, he spent much time 
 in assisting to arrange and classify the library, and 
 
THE BOSTON ATHENJEUM. 393 
 
 wrote the preface to the published catalogue. The cor 
 respondence between himself and Mr. William S. Shaw, 
 while he was in Europe, although previous to this lime, 
 is introduced here. It will show how entire was the 
 confidence placed in these two friends, and with what 
 enthusiasm they entered into the business. In his pref 
 ace he says : 
 
 " The present catalogue will exhibit at once our riches 
 and our poverty ; it will show to the world what we have 
 amassed, and suggest to future benefactors what we yet 
 hope to collect. When we recollect, that, four years ago, 
 this institution existed only in the hopes and projects of a 
 few reading men, and that, from a sjerm almost impercepti 
 ble, it has grown into the present generous establishment, 
 we can hardly repress our exultation 
 
 " If the time should ever come, which we fondly expect, 
 when a superb structure shall be raised in this town, wherein 
 to deposit the crowded treasures and the precious collec 
 tions of this literary institution, and the Historical Society 
 shall consent to unite our common possessions upon the 
 subject of American history, we shall then have approached 
 nearer to the accomplishment of our darling object, the for 
 mation of an American Library worthy of the country." * 
 
 "Boston, Dec. 1st, 1806. 
 
 "DEAR BUCKMINSTER, I know you will be delighted 
 to hear of the progress we have made in the reading-room 
 and library, which has much surpassed the expectations of 
 even the most sanguine of us. We have one hundred and 
 sixty subscribers at ten dollars a year, consisting of the 
 most respectable gentlemen in Boston, with the probability 
 
 * The above extracts are taken from the manuscript of the preface, 
 in my brother s handwriting. 
 
394 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 of having two hundred subscribers at least, the moment the 
 rooms are opened. We have taken rooms in Congress 
 Street, in what are called Joy s Buildings, which we shall 
 occupy till the spring, when we expect to be able to procure 
 more commodious rooms. We have had nearly a thousand 
 volumes of valuable books presented to us, and one hun 
 dred and sixty dollars in cash. The institution is a very 
 popular one, and there is a strong inclination discovered to 
 patronize it on a very extensive plan, and I have very little 
 doubt that in a few years we shall see a library in our be 
 loved Boston, inferior to none in America. If we do not, 
 it will be owing altogether to want of exertion on the part 
 of our literary men, whose duty it is to awake from their 
 stupid lethargy, and to rescue our country from the scorn 
 and derision which now lie so heavily upon her. 
 
 " We propose that the whole property of the institution 
 shall be vested in a number of trustees, not exceeding 
 eleven, seven of whom to be chosen from the Anthology 
 Society, the remaining four to be gentlemen out of the 
 Society, the Trustees thus chosen to have the sole and 
 exclusive management of the institution. Dr. Kirkland, 
 Mr. Emerson, Peter Thacher, Walter, and myself, are chosen 
 from the Anthology Society, and we intend to choose your 
 honor to be one the moment you come hojne. Chief Justice 
 Parsons, Mr. John Lowell, Mr. Freeman, we have also 
 chosen, none of whom have yet made known their ac 
 ceptance but Mr. Parsons, who very readily complied with 
 our request, much to the joy of us all. As soon as the 
 Trustees can be called together, they are to choose a Presi 
 dent, Vice-President, Recording and Corresponding Secre 
 taries, Treasurer, &c. Mr. Parsons is to be chosen Presi 
 dent, Walter will probably be chosen Corresponding Secre 
 tary, and your humble servant, Recorder. 
 
 " In drawing up the regulations, we have followed very 
 closely the laws of the Athenaeum of Liverpool, for which 
 
LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 395 
 
 I am greatly indebted to your kindness in transmitting 
 immediately on your arrival at Liverpool. It is an admira 
 ble institution, and we intend to make ours as much like 
 that as the different circumstances of the two countries will 
 admit. I pray you to make it an object to collect as much 
 information, as will be in your power respecting all literary 
 societies, catalogues of their libraries, their laws, &c., &c. 
 They will be pleasant to have in our reading-room at least, 
 and they may be made useful in America, to stimulate our 
 countrymen to some important mental exertions. I wish 
 you could be prevailed upon to avail yourself of the ad 
 vantages your residence in London this winter will afford 
 you, to collect information relative to the literature of Eng 
 land, their colleges, their schools, their scientific institutions, 
 their literary men, &c., &c., and publish a series of papers 
 in our dearly cherished Anthology on the present state of 
 English literature, which I am very certain would be novel, 
 interesting, and useful to the people of this country. Write 
 a series of letters from England to us in America, as 
 Laharpe wrote from Paris to the Emperor Paul the First, 
 of Russia. He was engaged in a correspondence with the 
 Emperor for five years, which, since Laharpe s death, has 
 been published in four volumes. He sent to the young 
 prince all the literary and political news of Paris, and judged 
 of men and books with all the freedom which a literary 
 correspondence admits. The work is wonderfully inter 
 esting. It will be read by men of letters and men of 
 fashion. The first will find much correct criticism, the sec 
 ond pleasant anecdote, and all variety, which, you know, is 
 always charming. 
 
 " I inclose to you with this a bill of exchange, payable 
 to you, and drawn upon Samuel Williams, Esquire, for six 
 hundred dollars, five hundred of which are to be expended 
 in procuring books for the reading-room, and to be sent 
 out as early in the spring as possible. The intention of 
 
396 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 the Trustees is to appropriate the money arising from sub 
 scriptions as follows : After the necessary expenses of the 
 institution are paid, the first object will be to provide for 
 the rooms all the celebrated gazettes published in any part 
 of the United States. The most interesting literary and 
 political pamphlets in Europe arid America, magazines, 
 reviews, and scientific journals, in the English and French 
 languages, London and Paris newspapers, Steel s Army and 
 Navy List, Naval Chronicle, London and Paris booksellers 
 catalogues, parliamentary debates, bibliographical works, 
 voyages and travels, valuable maps and charts. The ga 
 zettes and pamphlets of our own country we can of course 
 procure without troubling you ; but we wish you to take 
 such measures as will insure to us the early transmission 
 of all interesting pamphlets published in England on im 
 portant subjects, the average amount for the year not to 
 exceed three dollars per month; that is, we are willing to 
 appropriate thirty-six dollars a year of our funds for Eng 
 lish pamphlets, including booksellers catalogues. If your 
 friends, Mr. Sam. or Francis Williams, could be persuaded 
 to undertake this commission after you leave England, they 
 would be the best men in the world for this purpose. At 
 any rate, we shall depend on your selecting some person 
 of judgment, in whom we may confide for the punctual 
 discharge of this part of our engagement to supply the 
 room with English pamphlets. 
 
 " English magazines, reviews, &c. These publications 
 we have thought it most expedient to procure, for the present, 
 at least, through the agency of Mr. William Skinner, an 
 English gentleman connected with a house in London, 
 whose card I inclose you, and would wish you to call upon 
 them, and converse with them on the objects of the institu 
 tion, and urge upon them the necessity of most punctual 
 communication. I inclose to you, with this, a list of all the 
 publications we have ordered from England, with a request 
 
LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 397 
 
 that you would order any others you should think proper. 
 We wish particularly for Dr. Aikin s new magazine, the 
 Athenaeum, Arthur Aikin s Annual Review to be sent out 
 in numbers, beginning with the first number of the fifth 
 volume, and indeed for all the distinguished periodical jour 
 nals in England. If you think, therefore, that we have not 
 ordered a sufficient number, you are at perfect liberty to 
 make any additions you please. You will observe that we 
 have only sent for three newspapers, the Morning Chron 
 icle, the Courier, and Bell s Weekly Messenger, which are 
 as many as we thought our funds would allow of at present. 
 If you think we ought to have one more, you may direct 
 it to be sent out to us. To collect valuable maps and charts 
 is one of the prime objects of the institution, and ought to be 
 immediately attended to. You will therefore appropriate a 
 part of the money sent you with this (say, perhaps, one hun 
 dred dollars) to the purchasing of two or three good At 
 lases of standard reputation. 
 
 u After having furnished the room with newspapers, maga 
 zines, maps and" charts, &c., &c., as above mentioned, 
 the second object of the Trustees will be to supply the 
 library with the most valuable encyclopedias of the arts 
 and sciences in the French and English languages, with 
 standard dictionaries of the learned and modern languages, 
 also dictionaries, critical, biographical, &c., and books of 
 general reference useful to the merchant and scholar. We 
 have already procured the American edition of Rees s En 
 cyclopedia, as far as it has been published. We have also 
 had presented to us a superb edition of Dr. Aikin s John 
 son s Dictionary, in four large octavo volumes, by my friend, 
 Joseph Tilden. Books printed on the Continent we can 
 probably purchase cheaper by sending to Paris and Hol 
 land than you could be able to procure them in London. 
 I should not therefore advise you to purchase books of 
 this kind ; but of this you will be a much better judge than 
 34 " 
 
398 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 myself. I merely mention it by way of suggestion, leaving 
 it entirely to your discretion. Some of the money, I should 
 think, ought to be appropriated to purchase standard works 
 upon commerce and books of useful reference to the mer 
 chants, as most of our subscribers are of this class. Mr. 
 Samuel Williams could recommend to you some books of 
 this kind. There is a work on this subject reviewed in the 
 sixteenth number of the Edinburgh Review, entitled. I be 
 lieve, Macpherson s Annals of Commerce, which I should 
 think we ought to have. You ought to send us out also some 
 miscellaneous books, useful to the loungers, such, perhaps, 
 as a complete edition of the English classics, such as the 
 Spectator, Guardian, &c., with Drake s Essays on these 
 periodical writers, &c., &c. The books you purchase must 
 be all good editions, printed on good paper, and well bound ; 
 but take care not to be too extravagant. I have thus, my 
 dear Buckminster, detailed to you the objects to which we 
 conceive the income of our institution ought for the present 
 to be appropriated, and, with this information, send the five 
 hundred dollars to you, to procure such bo*oks for the insti 
 tution as your judgment shall dictate, with an entire confi 
 dence that the money will be appropriated in such a man 
 ner as will advance the interests and extend the patronage 
 of the establishment, which I am very sensible you have 
 much at heart. All the newspapers and literary publica 
 tions, which we procure through the kindness of Mr. Skin 
 ner, we expect to pay for here, and have made our arrange 
 ments accordingly. 
 
 " You must be very sensible, that the success of an in 
 stitution like ours will depend very much on the punctuality 
 and despatch with which we receive our foreign newspapers, 
 pamphlets, new books, and periodical publications. I can 
 not urge upon you> therefore, too strongly, the necessity of 
 adopting such measures, before you embark for this coun 
 try, as will best secure to us these great objects. I would 
 
LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 399 
 
 beg leave to suggest to you the expediency of selecting 
 a confidential bookseller in London ; promise that we will 
 purchase all our books of him ; let him supply us with all 
 our newspapers, magazines, &c., in short, everything we 
 shall want from England ; tell him that our institution prom 
 ises to be a permanent one, that we shall probably send to 
 England from one thousand to fifteen hundred dollars per 
 year, to be expended in books. With such inducements, I 
 should think, some one might be persuaded to make con 
 siderable exertion to comply with our requisitions. If you 
 should adopt any plan of this kind, you must give informa 
 tion to Skinner s house, in London. 
 
 " I send you one hundred dollars, on my own account, 
 with which I wish you to procure for me the best edition 
 of Shakspeare s plays, with all the prefaces, notes, com 
 mentaries, &c., which I suppose to be Reid s ; Dr. Aikin s 
 edition of Dr. Johnson s Dictionary, in four volumes, octavo, 
 both to be well bound in calf; Dibdin s bibliographical works ; 
 and, if these should not amount to one hundred dollars, any 
 other books you may please to procure for me. Alas ! I 
 have no more time to write at present. Remember me 
 most affectionately to Mr. Thacher. Consult him about the 
 reading-room. Love me always, and believe me to be most 
 sincerely yours, most affectionately, 
 
 " WM. S. SHAW." 
 
 " Boston, 13th December, 1806. 
 
 " DEAR BUCKMINSTER, I wrote to you by the Galen a 
 long letter, and inclosed you a bill of exchange, drawn upon 
 Samuel Williams, Esquire, for six hundred dollars, which 
 letter I presume you have received. It ought to be a consid 
 erable object, I should think, in the purchase of books for 
 our library, to procure such valuable works as are least com 
 mon in this town, and most difficult to be procured in this 
 country. The publications relative to the literary fund in 
 England I have never seen in this country, and, if they 
 
400 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 have any merit, I think you had best procure them. 
 Horsley on Virgil s Seasons of Honey I forget the title of 
 the work would be a novelty here. I want you also to 
 procure, either for the reading-room or for me, A View 
 of the Causes and Consequences of the American Revolu 
 tion, in thirteen Discourses, preached in North America, be 
 tween the years 1763 and 1775, by Jonathan Boucher, 
 Vicar of Epsom, in the County of Surrey. Rare books rela 
 tive to the history of this country or the West India islands, 
 &c., &c., ought to be obtained. The publications of liter 
 ary associations of eminence in Great Britain we ought to 
 procure. Perhaps such letters might be addressed to the 
 societies as would induce them to present copies of their 
 publications to our institution ; but of this you are the better 
 judge. I send you inclosed, with this, ten copies of our 
 prospectus, that you may distribute them in a manner most 
 likely to promote the great objects of our institution. In 
 my last, I suggested to you the expediency of selecting 
 some bookseller in London who would undertake to supply 
 us with everything we wanted, and who would be responsi 
 ble for the punctual and early transmission of all our news 
 papers and literary publications. This is a very great, ob 
 ject, and the prosperity and advancement of the institution 
 depends very much on the success of our exertions in this 
 particular. I would further suggest, whether it would not 
 be possible to make some arrangements with the Athenae 
 um and Lyceum of Liverpool, that would operate benefi 
 cially to our establishment. The librarian of those institu 
 tions might possibly be induced to send us some of the nu 
 merous publications which they receive. I have frequently 
 seen, in this town, at our printing offices, English newspa 
 pers, with the name of Athenseum stamped upon them, and 
 which, I have understood, came from that institution. These 
 institutions must receive a number of newspapers, maga 
 zines, &c.,&c., and often duplicates which they do not care 
 
LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 401 
 
 to preserve, and would be willing to send them to us at a 
 very low price ; also, political pamphlets. 
 
 " I think you might also advance the interests of our es 
 tablishment by conversing with the Americans, particularly 
 the Bostonians, in England, on the utility and the pleasure 
 which will probably be afforded by an institution on our 
 plan. In my exertions here, I have generally succeeded 
 beyond my most sanguine expectations, in obtaining sub 
 scriptions, and donations in books as well as money. The 
 plan is a very popular one, and almost every one is desirous 
 of doing something to promote its objects. If you choose 
 to exercise the influence which I know you must possess 
 over your American acquaintance in England, and I think 
 it is your duty to do it, I have no doubt but that you might 
 obtain some very valuable donations to the library. I 
 should advise you to give one of our pamphlets to every 
 generous American, with some observations which may in 
 duce them to make some exertion to promote the interests 
 of the establishment. There are many Englishmen, such 
 as Sir John Sinclair, &c., who are pleased to take a very 
 lively interest in everything relative to American affairs, 
 and who, I have no doubt, would be very much delighted in 
 promoting the objects of our establishment. These gen 
 tlemen might be very useful in influencing the learned so 
 cieties to make donations of their publications. I should 
 also think it very proper to establish a correspondence with 
 some learned men in England, to whom we might be per 
 mitted to write in behalf of the institution, and who might 
 be the means of our procuring rare, valuable works, out of 
 print, which we could not otherwise obtain. Mr. Benjamin 
 Vaughan, here, has recommended us to his brother Wil 
 liam, and has promised to give us letters to him. In my 
 former letter, I requested you to procure some books of 
 reputation for the merchants. In addition, I would suggest 
 to you the propriety of purchasing Oddy s European Com- 
 34* 
 
402 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 merce, reviewed in the Monthly Review for August last. I 
 send you, with this, a second bill of exchange, drawn upon 
 Samuel Williams, Esq., for six hundred dollars ; five hundred 
 to be laid out in books for the reading-room, as I wrote in 
 my former letter, and one hundred on my own account, 
 to procure the best edition of Shakspeare, which I suppose 
 to be Reid s, Johnson s Dictionary by Dr. Aikin, Dibdin s 
 bibliographical works, to which I would add the Biblio 
 graphical Dictionary, similar to the one which Mr. Emerson 
 had. If these books should amount to a greater sum than 
 one hundred dollars, which I presume they will, I can only 
 promise to pay the bill whenever it shall be presented. If 
 you lay out the whole six hundred dollars at one bookstore, 
 you will, of course, procure the books much cheaper. 
 
 " The gentlemen of the Anthology Society desire to be 
 particularly remembered to you and our friend Thacher. 
 We now meet in Congress Street, under the same roof with 
 the reading-room, and Cooper, who is to keep the library, 
 provides for us. Our subscribers gradually increase, and 
 the publication seems to be rising in reputation. The book 
 sellers and printers begin to think us of some consequence, 
 and send us most of their publications. We frequently drink 
 a bumper to the health of our good friends in Europe, and, 
 with much sincerity, wish them pleasure and improvement 
 from their travels. We often regret that we have not been 
 favored with some communications for the Anthology, but 
 anticipate with pleasure the time when they will come en 
 masse. Mr. Thacher must not fail to fulfil his promise, and 
 we expect a whole budget in the spring. Phillips, in London, 
 has sent us an answer to the letter which we wrote to him 
 last spring, thanking us for the numbers of the Anthology 
 which we sent him, speaking in a very flattering manner 
 of the publication, and saying that he should be very happy 
 to interchange with us ; but he has as yet sent us none of his 
 numbers. If it is not too much trouble, I wish either you 
 
LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 403 
 
 or Thacher would call upon him, and converse with him on 
 the subject. I should think it would be worth while to make 
 the same attempt of an interchange with other periodical 
 publications in London. I also wish that one of you would 
 cause the plan of our institution to be published in the 
 Monthly Magazine, and perhaps some other publication, 
 with such observations as you may think proper. Pro 
 fessors McKean and Willard are on nomination for mem 
 bers of our society. You have already heard of Dr. Kirk- 
 land being a member, and we find him very pleasant as 
 a sociable man. We have now completed our third vol 
 ume, and we flatter ourselves that the last is very much the 
 best. We commence the new year with a firm determina 
 tion to persevere, and we flatter ourselves, that, with our 
 own exertions, and with such foreign aid as we may pro 
 cure, we shall be able to make the publication still more 
 valuable. 
 
 " I promised my curious friend, Harris, whom I once in 
 troduced to you, that I would make some inquiries of you in 
 his behalf. In the second volume of the American Biogra 
 phy, Dr. Belknap mentions arrows headed with brass be 
 ing shot at a party of Englishmen, by the Indians of Mas 
 sachusetts, and that they were sent to England as curiosi 
 ties. Now he wishes, that, if you meet with any such, 
 you will critically examine them. He can account for the 
 Indians having copper, by supposing that they found it in its 
 natural state, but brass is an artificial metal. It would favor 
 his theory, if these arrows heads should prove to be square, 
 brass coins, such as were found at Medford." 
 
 " Boston, 31st December, 1806. 
 
 " MY DEAR BUCKMINSTER, Not knowing how early the 
 Galen might go this morning, I put my letter into the letter- 
 bag last evening, and, as the ship does not sail till this after 
 noon, I have an opportunity of which, I assure you, I readi- 
 
404 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 ly avail myself, of writing you again. I also send you, in a 
 package, directed to Mr. Samuel Williams, twenty copies of 
 the regulations of our library, on which I have written Not 
 to be delivered till the ship arrives in London. As the 
 rooms are not to be opened until the 1st of January, 1807, 
 the printers delayed striking them off, so that I did not get 
 them till late last evening, and was obliged to send them 
 immediately on board the ship. On looking over them, I 
 find there are several typographical errors, particularly in 
 the list of French journals and the last page, which I wish 
 you to correct. In my list of periodical publications, sent to 
 Skinner s house, in London, I wrote for the Naval Chroni 
 cle and Curtis s Botanical Magazine, to be sent, out from 
 some number in this year ; but we wish for these works 
 from their commencement, the volumes to be bound. In 
 the same parcel you will find Sherman s account of the 
 proceedings of the council, which, thinking it might afford 
 you some amusement, I persuaded Dr. Kirkland to give me, 
 to send to you. 
 
 " In the literary way, I have not much to tell you. Brad 
 ford has printed four parts of Rees s Cyclopedia, which, in 
 typographical execution, is certainly not inferior, in any re 
 spect, to the English edition. The plates, too, are incom 
 parably well executed. 
 
 "The memoirs of Dr. Priestley you have probably read 
 in London, but the literary world receive no great accession 
 to their stock of knowledge from this source. I was most 
 wretchedly disappointed in perusing these volumes. West 
 & Greenleaf are publishing in this town a very good 
 edition of Burke s works, in four volumes, which they sell 
 for eight dollars. The first volume is out of press, and is 
 a fine specimen of American typography. Jos. Dennie s 
 Portfolio has been supported with less talent this year than 
 any former years, and the Miscellany died a natural death 
 last Commencement." 
 
LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 405 
 
 " London, March 10th, 1807. 
 
 " MY DEAR SHAW, I have laid out all your draft in 
 books, which I hope will be useful, though they were nec 
 essarily selected with so much precipitation, that I fear they 
 will not all be approved. The works on commerce I send 
 because they are the best, and because you mentioned some 
 of them. Chalmers s British Essayists, because particularly 
 mentioned in your letter ; the same with Virgil s Seasons 
 of Honey. In the article dictionaries, I was unwilling 
 to give ten or twelve guineas for Facciolati s, when you 
 may get it for seventy-five guilders in Holland ; or five 
 guineas for an Elzivir Scapula, when I think it may be 
 found in Boston for much less ; or fourteen guineas for 
 Stephens s Greek Thesaurus, when I know it can be pro 
 cured for much less in Paris. Kennicott s Bible, and Ca- 
 lupo s Concordance, I bought because they were cheap. If 
 they are not wanted, sell them to Bowdoin College. A 
 copy of Walton s Polyglott, with Castell s Lexicon, can 
 hardly be procured here at any price. Of the new books 
 which appeared last year, I send two or three of the most 
 valuable ; but I know not what you have already, and there 
 fore I buy new books with caution. The only book I regret 
 having bought is Thuanus, for I know it will not be valued 
 or read. You ought to have a set of the British Poets. I 
 shall bring out some one edition, which you can take or 
 not, as you please. Those maps, which I send, you can use 
 tfll my return. In the mean while, you will determine 
 whether you will order a set on spring rollers. The four 
 quarters of the world, East Indies, Pacific, and South 
 America, will cost you between fifty and sixty guineas. 
 Curtis s is too expensive to make part of the present invoice. 
 I am extremely sorry that the books could not be got 
 ready for the new Galen. It is the delay of the binder 
 which has prevented. I shall certainly put them on board 
 
406 LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 the old Galen, or Samuel Wells s vessel, which will sail in a 
 fortnight. Among the books which I have bought for my 
 self, there are several which have that character of rarity, 
 as well as excellence, which you seem to demand, and 
 which, upon my return, the Athenceum may take at the 
 price which they cost me. 
 
 " There still remain in P. s hands, towards your next 
 draft, but I believe I shall send them out immediately, 
 upon credit, Hoffman s Lexicon Universale (either this 
 or Pitiscus is indispensable to a classical student ; judice, 
 Dr. Parr) ; Curtis s Bot. Mag., from the commencement ; a 
 set of British Poets (Anderson s cheapest and most com 
 plete, Johnson s most convenient but scarce, Sharp s very 
 elegant and dear ; tell me which you prefer for the read 
 ing-room) ; Alberti s Italian Dictionary ; and several new 
 publications. 
 
 " Tell my theological friends that the second volume of 
 Griesbach has appeared, and I "have taken care that the 
 Duke of Grafton be reminded that he had the goodness to 
 present a large paper copy of the first volume to the Uni 
 versity at Cambridge. I hope they will receive the second 
 in the course of the summer. 
 
 " It has occurred to me that there are now one or two op 
 portunities in Boston of adding to your institution two or 
 three extremely valuable works, from the libraries of per 
 sons deceased. Would to God they were alive ! But, His 
 will be done ! This circumstance has prevented me from 
 purchasing Wetstein, Winklemann, the Monthly Review 
 complete, etc. 
 
 " Here follows a list of standard works, for which I think 
 you may send to Holland with more advantage than to 
 any other place, except Hamburg. [Omitted.] 
 
 " I shall have a notice of your institution inserted in the 
 Athenaeum, here, but it will not excite any interest, reading- 
 
LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAAV. 407 
 
 rooms and public libraries being so common in every part 
 of England and Ireland. Yours, affectionately, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
 " London, April 3d, 1807. 
 
 "My DEAR SHAW, At length 1 have finished the pur 
 chase of books for the reading-room, and have exceeded, by 
 nearly thirty pounds, my commission and your bill of ex 
 change. If you disapprove of any of the purchases, as, 
 upon second thoughts, I have, in two or three instances, you 
 are welcome to return them to me when I reach America. 
 My theological friends may blame me for omitting Kenni- 
 cott, but they would- blame me still more if they knew the 
 reason, which is, that nobody would consult the volumes, 
 except those who ought to possess and use them daily. 
 I have sent no general Atlas, because there is none worth 
 sending, and because Pinkerton has announced the publica 
 tion of a grand one, which is to supersede all others. I 
 have procured Priestley (bookseller) to subscribe early in 
 behalf of the Athenaeum, Boston. If you still wish one 
 immediately, you may take one which Faden has selected 
 for me here, and for which I gave him nine guineas. You 
 may take it at what it shall cost me. 
 
 " Of this invoice, several books were purchased merely 
 in conformity to your instructions, and these, unluckily, swell 
 the bill much, e. g. Naval Chronicle and Curtis s Botanical 
 Magazine, from the beginning, and four or five expensive 
 works on commerce. About a dozen works I have sent out* 
 because they were new, and it should be an important ob 
 ject in your establishment to have all the new publications. 
 Those that are worth keeping you can keep, and the others 
 you may sell at the end of a year or two. I began to make 
 out a list of late works for you, but was soon obliged to 
 stop, from the difficulty of selection. Upon the whole, I 
 believe you must allow me to give a general order for all 
 
408 LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 new works. As to those I have sent, I cannot say they 
 are all of superior merit ; but I suspect the least valuable 
 will be the most popular. I am not sure that Blair s Chro 
 nology is better than Playfair s. One or the other, I think, 
 you ought to have. D Anville s maps are excellent, it is 
 well known ; but I believe that Laurie & Whittier s edition 
 is poorly engraved, but it is the only one I could find. At 
 any rate, D Anville s is to be preferred, I think, to Wilken- 
 son s. Of Miller s Gardener s Dictionary, Chalmers s Brit 
 ish Essayists, and Pinkerton s new editions, there will be, 
 
 I think, but one opinion as to their value 
 
 " As to Eber s German Dictionary, it is the best, and if 
 the reading-room does not want it, I do. Gregory s Cyclo 
 pedia is a very salable book, if you choose to part with it. 
 Pitiscus is indispensable to a classical student ; so is Hoff 
 man s Lexicon. This latter I have bought for myself, and 
 I advise you to send for it in your next order. Maton, 
 Drummond, Mackenzie, Foster, Knight, Pitts, Lives of Gray, 
 Kaimes, etc., are among the new books. But I repeat, 
 again, that I cannot undertake to make a selection from 
 them. How far back must I go? You must have all the 
 new publications, as they come out, if they have any kind of 
 merit. The edition of Scapula, which I send, though not 
 an Elzivir, is equally complete. The Elzivir cannot be 
 bought in good order under six or seven guineas. Walker s 
 Pronouncing Dictionary is of last year. The Lactantius, 
 though a most curious and standard work, the Historical 
 Society will be glad to have, if you are not. Newman s 
 Spanish Dictionary I know nothing about, except that it is 
 the last. The merit of Alberti is well known. 
 
 " You do not know how difficult it is to procure many 
 books for one hundred pounds. I have run the Society in 
 debt thirty pounds, which, if you please, you will provide 
 for in your next draft. 
 
 "You will find that I have ventured to add to your list 
 
LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 409 
 
 of periodical works. Whether some ought to be struck 
 off or not you will judge. There are a great many books, 
 too, which you ought to have among the first, which I have 
 not purchased here, because they can be procured so much 
 cheaper on the Continent. Among them I must mention 
 Facciolatus and Gesner ; Stephens s Greek Thesaurus, with 
 Scott s Appendix ; a complete set of classics and of classical 
 helps, such as the immense collections of Groevius and 
 Gronovius ; complete sets of the Acta Eruditorum, Jour 
 nal des Savans, Bibliotheque Raisonnee, the Bible of Le 
 Clerc, the Memoirs of the Berlin and St. Petersburg Acad 
 emies, Commentaries of the Society of Leipsic, Abridg 
 ment of the Philosophical Transactions, etc. 
 
 " I would suggest the practicability of procuring the com 
 plete set of the Monthly Review, which belonged to my 
 good friend Deacon Storer ; also the Annual Register. I 
 hope you have the list I have sent you for Paris, and that 
 you will transmit it as soon as possible. I repeat again, 
 I should not have sent out exactly such a list, had I not 
 known that future orders for London, Amsterdam, Paris, 
 and I hope, too, Hamburg and Leghorn, would probably 
 supply many apparent deficiencies. 
 
 " I am in great doubt about the propriety of applying 
 to any societies here for an exchange of publications ; for 
 alas ! what have we to exchange ? The Bath, Manchester, 
 Dublin, etc., Society papers are extremely valuable; but 
 I think our funds are not yet sufficient to procure them. 
 We must, at least for some time, think of popularity, and 
 I know of no method so likely to procure it, as to keep 
 our rooms furnished with abundance of magazines, pam 
 phlets, and new books. This, I am satisfied, should be 
 our first object ; and our second, to lay slowly and diligently 
 the foundation of a permanent library of works difficult to 
 be procured in America. 100 a year, judiciously expend 
 ed for this last object, would do much. If I should ever 
 35 
 
410 LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 return, which God grant may be this summer, I think I 
 shall be able to open a correspondence with Paris, which 
 will supply us with books now unknown in America. 
 
 " The books are shipped on board the Amelia, because 
 Mr. Welles takes them for nothing, and because they could 
 not be got ready for the Galen. Mr. Williams has got 
 them insured. 
 
 " Your affectionate 
 
 "J. S. B." 
 
 " London, June 6th, 1807. 
 
 " MY DEAR SHAW, I had determined not to write you 
 another letter from England ; but I have just seen, in a Bos 
 ton paper, that the Amelia has arrived with the precious 
 deposit for the reading-room, and I cannot fail to offer you 
 my congratulations. I suggested to you the propriety of 
 ordering, among your new books for the Athenceum, Ros- 
 coe s Lorenzo de Medici, and Leo the Tenth ; Duppa s Life 
 of Michel Angelo ; Shepherd s Poggio ; and one other 
 of the same period, which I do not now recollect, uniformly 
 bound. I wish it were in your power to order some of the 
 superb topographical works upon Greece and Rome, such 
 as Stuart s Antiquities of Athens, Gell s Topography of 
 Troy, Lumisden, Caylus, etc., to say nothing of Groevius 
 and Gronovius. 
 
 " Among the valuable works of the last year, I cannot 
 omit to mention Stuart s Translation of Sallust, 2 vols. 8vo., 
 extremely interesting to a lover of Roman Literature ; Lord 
 Holland s Life of Lope de Vega ; Duten s Memoirs ; Clark- 
 son s Portraiture of Quakerism; and many others, which I 
 desired to send out, if your request not to run you in debt 
 had not deterred me. 
 
 " I cannot forbear, too, offering you my advice about 
 your proposed edifice. Do not build any, unless you can 
 raise money enough to erect an elegant classical building, 
 
CORRESPONDENCE OF SHAW AND BUCKMINSTER. 411 
 
 either entirely of stone, or with a stone facade, which shall 
 reflect everlasting credit upon the taste and munificence 
 of the founders. If you cannot do this, any common house 
 will answer your purpose. The more rooms the better, if 
 securely warmed in winter. At any rate, before you build, 
 I hope you will obtain, from England and the Continent, 
 drawings, and plans, and views of structures of the kind 
 proposed. Loammi Baldwin, who, I understand, has just 
 arrived, would send you from Paris, if not from London, 
 plans worthy of your attention. I shall venture to speak 
 to him upon the subject." 
 
 Certainly Mr. Shaw placed unbounded confidence in 
 his friend, and his commissions were executed with as 
 much care as a residence of only four months in Lon 
 don, to one who was absent on account of precarious 
 health, could well afford. A part of this time also was 
 taken up in an excursion to Scotland and Wales. It 
 would excite a smile, if it did not almost provoke anger, 
 to find, that, in addition to work imposed upon him that 
 would have occupied a paid agent for months, Mr. Shaw 
 gravely asks him u to write a series of letters for the 
 Anthology, upon the literature of England, their col 
 leges, their schools, their literary institutions and liter 
 ary men, which I am very sure," he says, "would be 
 novel and interesting and useful to the people of this 
 country." A young man, with a few months to devote 
 to the recovery of his health, was, beside all the rest of 
 his work, to write a book like La Harpe s, which was 
 the employment of the best years of life ! 
 
 "Boston, May 13th, 1807. 
 
 " I do most sincerely congratulate you, my dear Buck- 
 minster, on the flattering prospect you have of the restora- 
 
412 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 
 
 tion of your health. This is the only consideration which 
 in any degree reconciles me to your longer absence, for I 
 do wish most ardently for your return. Since the death 
 of our dear friend Walter, I have regretted your absence, 
 and wished for your company, more than ever. O, my 
 dear friend, how little did we anticipate this most grievous 
 dispensation of God s holy providence when last we parted ! 
 A thousand little incidents, relative to his sickness and 
 death, forcibly impress themselves upon my mind ; and 
 if God shall be pleased to permit us to meet again, I will 
 detail them to you with melancholy pleasure. I need not 
 tell you, who were so well acquainted with us both, how 
 much I loved him, nor how worthy he was of admiration 
 and esteem. There was no good that I ever enjoyed, 
 there was no pleasure that I ever anticipated, with which 
 Walter was not most intimately associated ; but my dear 
 friend is dead ! I ought not to complain ; God s will be done ! 
 How many delightful hours have we passed together in 
 conversing about you, my good friend, in recollecting 
 the pleasures of former days passed in social converse, in 
 felicitating you on the advantages we flattered ourselves 
 you would enjoy from your travels, in your health and in 
 intellectual improvement, and with what transport did we 
 anticipate your return ! O, my God ! Of such pleasures 
 departed, never to return, how painful the remembrance ! 
 
 " From the pamphlets, which I send to you with this, of 
 which you have several for distribution as you think proper, 
 you will see that the Trustees of the Anthology reading- 
 room and library have obtained an act of incorporation by 
 the name of the Proprietors of the Boston Athenreum. I 
 doubt very much whether there ever has been an institution 
 in this country, which has made such rapid advances as 
 ours ; and I can now congratulate you on the prospect of 
 having a library in this town, which you always seemed to 
 believe was only a delusion of my idle brain, on a liberal 
 
LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 413 
 
 plan, highly honorable to the munificence of our citizens, 
 and which will assist and facilitate the researches of the 
 learned and gratify the ingenious curiosity of strangers. 
 This, with me, I can assure you, is no ordinary subject for 
 congratulation. Depend upon it, that the establishment of 
 the Athenreum, the rooms of which are to be always acces 
 sible at all hours of the day, is one of the greatest strides 
 towards intellectual advancement that this country has ever 
 witnessed. We have every reason to believe that the hun 
 dred and fifty shares will be taken up, which, at three hun 
 dred dollars a share, will give us forty-five thousand dollars. 
 We already have fifty shares subscribed for, and there are 
 about thirty gentlemen beside, who have promised to sub 
 scribe. We shall not trouble ourselves for life-subscribers 
 till the permanent shares are taken up, which I undertake 
 to say will be the case in the course of three weeks at least, 
 and perhaps in a less time. 
 
 " You did very right to send us out the Oxford Review, 
 though I do not think much of the numbers I have read. 
 As our funds are very much increased, we can now afford 
 to take all the English literary magazines of any eminence, 
 and you are at liberty to add any to the list you please. 
 What merit has the Panorama, a new publication I see 
 advertised ? We are perfectly satisfied with the arrange 
 ments made in London with Jenner, for the periodical pub 
 lications. They come out as regularly as we could ex 
 pect to receive them from London ; but we wish that there 
 might be some arrangement in Liverpool, so that no vessel 
 should sail for Boston without some papers for us. Could 
 you not make some agreement with the AthenaBum, Ly 
 ceum, or Union Society, to send out some papers different 
 from those we already have at half-price r You must not 
 send us out any books on credit. Remember me with all 
 possible affection to dear Thacher. In great haste, dear 
 Buckminster, yours, W. S. S." 
 
 35* 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN DR. BUCKMINSTER AND HIS 
 DAUGHTER. REMARKS UPON THE CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 DR. BUCKMINSTER S marriage, for the third time, 
 took place, after a widowhood of five years, in the 
 summer of 1810. His wife was the widow of Col. 
 Eliphalet Ladd, who had been one of his best and most 
 valuable parishioners ; and a long and intimate acquaint 
 ance had guarantied to both families the happiness that 
 would be secured to their parents from a nearer union. 
 Her genuine kindness, the devoted and patient love, 
 which rendered the last years of Dr. Buckminster free 
 from care, and soothed the irritation of a mind begin 
 ning to feel the approach of declining years and of 
 mental depression, secured to her the most affection 
 ate gratitude of his children. 
 
 The father s comfort being thus happily provided for, 
 his daughters were no longer detained by filial scruples 
 from the pleasant sojourn of their brother s house. Dr. 
 Buckminster s anxiety for their eternal welfare increased 
 as they were more separated from him. It would be 
 unjust to his memory to exclude from these pages the 
 following correspondence, which took place at this time. 
 But although the letters appear without the alteration 
 of a single word, in the apprehension of the writer, 
 the Calvinistic formula and mode of expression, which 
 
FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 415 
 
 give to them a sectarian aspect, is wholly distinct from 
 the spirit that breathes through them. Dr. Buckmin- 
 ster s religion was of the heart, not of the head ; it was 
 neither that of Calvin, nor of the Assembly s Catechism ; 
 it was the pure spirit of the Gospel of Christ that 
 breathed in that form of faith which bound him to a sys 
 tem. It was not the form nor the name which fed his 
 spiritual nature and kept alive the " life of God in his 
 soul." He would have been happier could he have held 
 more intimate communion with his children, could he 
 have recognized in his son, and in the daughter to whom 
 these letters are addressed, the same spirit which breathed 
 in his own soul, could he have seen that love, joy, 
 peace, gentleness, and goodness were as much the fruits 
 of the spirit of grace in them as " repentance, faith and 
 holiness" are in those denominated "Orthodox Chris 
 tians." If they have met in the great company of puri 
 fied spirits assembled from among those who have worn 
 the livery of every sect, and been claimed by every de 
 nomination beneath the sun, the only bond of union will 
 be, that they have lived the divine life, the life of God 
 in the soul. 
 
 After the marriage of her father, his eldest daughter 
 made her brother s house her permanent home, and the 
 other sisters were occasionally there. Their separation 
 was short, but they never met on earth again ; and the 
 words which closed the correspondence, " O, my 
 child, let us be prepared to live with Christ in the world 
 to come ! : as they had a prophetic meaning, so we 
 may trust they had a perfect and blissful fulfilment. 
 
 The correspondence begins by a letter from his 
 eldest daughter to a sister. 
 
416 DR. BUCKMINSTER S CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 " Boston, September, 1810. 
 
 " I have just been looking at the moon from the roof of 
 the house where you, my dear E., passed many hours last 
 summer, but never one where nature was more tranquilly 
 sublime than now. Everything seems to say that we are 
 the work of a perfect Being, and the care of a mild and 
 compassionate Father ; and we can almost believe that he is 
 looking even upon us with approbation and love. How 
 great are our obligations to this God ! and how far do I fall 
 short of performing the duties aright that these obligations 
 imply ! Our best endeavours to serve him are but poor re 
 turns for the mercies he bestows upon us ; and yet I, who 
 have received blessings without number, neglect some of 
 his most plain and reasonable commands ! When I sat 
 down to my desk, I did not think of falling into this train 
 of thought; but why may I not write to you, dear E., upon 
 a subject, which, from a consciousness of my deficiency in 
 knowledge, I dare not converse upon, although it often em 
 ploys my thought ? I am sure you believe, with me, that it 
 is a duty in every one arrived at years of discretion, and 
 desirous of the name of Christian, to profess publicly her 
 belief in Christianity, and show to the world that she loves 
 and reveres the character of the blessed Saviour by par 
 taking of the holy ordinance. 
 
 " I am far from believing that there are not many good 
 persons, who, from doubt of their qualifications, mistrust of 
 their sincerity, or perhaps from a habit of procrastination, 
 live and die without becoming members of the Church in 
 this world, who will yet enjoy all the happiness of heaven ; 
 still, I think it is a duty every Christian should perform, and 
 that the neglect, of it causes a severe compunction and pain 
 of conscience. I have been wishing to talk with papa on 
 the subject, but I cannot get confidence, arid I believe that 
 I have sometimes refrained through fear, that, instead of 
 an honor I should be a reproach to the cause of Christ ; 
 
WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 417 
 
 for, in every situation, we should keep a conscience void 
 of offence to God and man ; and those who publicly pro 
 fess to be Christ s disciples do more injury to the cause of 
 Christianity by small errors than mere men of the world 
 do by great sins. Are we not promised the assistance of 
 God s spirit to help us in all our sincere endeavours to serve 
 him ? and, if we firmly believe this, are we not wrong in 
 neglecting any means which will enable us to become more 
 worthy disciples of Jesus, and more perfect in our lives ? 
 
 " The precepts of the Gospel do not prohibit rational 
 and moderate pleasures ; indeed, the purest pleasures are 
 there recommended and enforced ; our endeavour should 
 be to form the mind, and keep it in a state for their en 
 joyment. There we are taught that such a disposition is 
 necessary ; that, while we live in the world, we should be 
 able to live above it. We must often associate in the world 
 with those whose chief happiness is in the show and pageant 
 ry of the world ; but it does not follow, because we are 
 charitable to such, that we are lovers of pleasure more 
 than lovers of God. The difference of opinion that pre 
 vails upon the most momentous subjects, at the present time, 
 makes one almost afraid to adopt any belief; for what we 
 will assert is truth, another will reason into falsehood. I 
 cannot but believe, that, if any particular faith had been re 
 quired for the attainment of heaven, it would have been 
 distinctly revealed to us ; and when we see so many good 
 men differing in faith and sentiment, who are making equal 
 exertions for the glory of God and the improvement of 
 man, we cannot but believe that they will partake of equal 
 joys in another world. - 
 
 " Most affectionately, your 
 
 "L. M. B." 
 
 After reading this letter, the father wrote in reply : 
 
418 DR. BUCKMINSTER S CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 " October 29th, 1810. 
 
 " MY DEAR DAUGHTER, Religion, my dear child, real 
 religion, is the principal thing, the thing of first importance, 
 the one thing needful, to all ages and characters. It does 
 not consist in a speculative belief of a certain set of princi 
 ples, even though they be true ; nor in the external perform 
 ance of a round of duties, though they be the duties which 
 reason and revelation impose upon us ; but it consists in a 
 reconciliation of the heart to God, in an approbation of his 
 character, his government, his truths, his precepts, his in 
 stitutions, and a conformity to them, performing the ser 
 vices which they impose from a principle of love and re 
 spect to his authority and pleasure. It (i. e. religion) gives 
 God, as manifested in Jesus Christ, the preference to all other 
 objects, and rebinds the soul to him, as its supreme good. 
 Now this is not the natural state of man, of any man de 
 scended from apostate Adam. We are alienated and es 
 tranged from God through the ignorance that is in us, by 
 reason of the blindness of our hearts; we are naturally 
 averse from the true character of God as a holy and sove 
 reign God. We may love his blessings, but we love not 
 him. We love pleasure more than God, and the creature 
 more than the Creator. We love human excellence more 
 than the Divine, talk more about it, dwell more upon it, 
 although the former is to the latter but as the drop of the 
 bucket to the waves of the ocean. Universal experience 
 and Scriptural declaration confirm this truth ; hence the ne 
 cessity of our being born again, of our being renewed in 
 the spirit of our minds, created anew. This is not some 
 trifling alteration in our sentiments, views, feelings, and 
 practices, but it is a radical, and essential, and abiding 
 change, in which old things pass away and all things be 
 come new ; in which God is welcomed to his throne in the 
 heart, and everything is brought into obedience to his pleas- 
 
WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 419 
 
 lire. This is religion, and to effect this is the design of the 
 mighty apparatus of the Gospel. Till this is effected, we 
 have no part or lot in religion, no title to its blessings. 
 This is the religion I want for my children. But I fear, 
 through the pride of science and philosophy, and the fashion 
 able liberality of the present day, my children are placing 
 the most formidable barriers against their ever possessing it. 
 
 " This change, that I have spoken of, is effected by re 
 ceiving Christ and believing in him, with a cordial, but hum 
 bling and self-denying faith. In proportion as we cherish 
 inadequate ideas of our helpless, guilty, and incurable state 
 by nature, nattering ideas of there being some remains of 
 good in us, surviving the apostacy, upon which, by our own 
 exertions, we may raise ourselves to a moral and spiritual 
 change, we shall be indifferent to the Saviour, we shall have 
 low thoughts of his character and of his undertaking, and 
 compass ourselves about with sparks of our own kindling, 
 till we receive this at the hand of the Lord, that we lie down 
 in sorrow. I wish that I had not so much reason to fear that 
 none of my children are partakers of this grace. I have 
 reason to bless God that you are amiable, that you are im 
 proved, that you are affectionate to each other and dutiful to 
 me ; but, O that I could hope that you were gracious, that 
 you loved Christ in his true character, more than father or 
 brother, more than characters distinguished for science and 
 philosophy, for politeness and refinement, in a vain world, 
 whose pageantry will soon vanish as a dream ! 
 
 " I have been favored and pleased with reading the let 
 ters you wrote to E., with the scenery and descriptions 
 of society in England, and the interest you take in it. Are 
 you as much interested, my dear daughter, in the scenes 
 that were exhibited in Judea, in Mount Calvary, and the 
 garden of Gethsemane ? Do they at any time cause such 
 emotions to thrill in your breast ? Are you as sensibly in 
 terested in the characters there ? How natural, in writing to 
 
420 
 
 a beloved sister, bound with you to eternity, and whose only 
 hope must be with yours in this Saviour, how natural would 
 it have been to have adverted to it ! You love Miss L. for 
 her admiration of Miss S. Do you love those who admire 
 Christ in his true character, and because they admire him ? 
 O, my child, may God enable you to do so, and to love all 
 those who love the Lord Jesus in sincerity. You are antici 
 pating with pleasure a portrait of , and a bust of . 
 
 Have you any such desires to see Jesus, or to gaze upon the 
 tokens of his love, the symbols of his body and blood ? A 
 fear that you had not, my dearest daughter, a fear that 
 you were a stranger to the power of Divine grace, was the 
 reason I did not encourage your making a profession of re 
 ligion when you spoke to me on the subject ; but perhaps I 
 judged wrong. I beseech you not, my dear child, to rest 
 in professions, in saying Lord, Lord ! but be sure 
 that Christ is your Lord, and that you are crucified to the 
 world and the world to you. Rest in nothing short of re 
 generation, for unless you are born again, you cannot see 
 the kingdom of God." 
 
 "November 23d, 1810. 
 
 "Mr DEAR DAUGHTER, The reading of your letter 
 brought to my mind the breathing of the Apostle, in the 
 fourth chapter of Galatians, nineteenth and twentieth verses. 
 However uncharitable it may appear to you, I must say, I 
 stand in doubt of my children, and have fears, that, lest, as 
 the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtlety, so their 
 minds should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in 
 Christ. The breathing of the Apostle, in the passage re 
 ferred to above, implies in the strongest terms, that, nat 
 urally, there is nothing of Christ in us ; nothing until it is 
 formed within us. This is supported by express Scripture 
 testimony. Every imagination of the thoughts of man s 
 heart is evil, only evil, and that continually, from his youth. 
 1 The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately 
 
WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 421 
 
 wicked. You hath he quickened, saith the Apostle to 
 the Ephesians, who were dead in trespasses and sins ; and, 
 lest he should be thought to confine this description to ihe 
 heathen, he speaks of the privileged Jews as in the same 
 state hefore their conversion, among whom we all had 
 our conversation in times past, in the lusts of the flesh, ful 
 filling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were 
 by nature children of wrath, even as others. The deny 
 ing, doubting, disbelieving this truth, leads to a train of 
 errors in theology. Nay, unless the heart be better than 
 the head, having been the subject of exercises which the head 
 denies, I do not see how it can be a temple for the Holy 
 Spirit to dwell in. The corrupting of this doctrine, or be 
 lieving that the apostacy of man has only given a shock 
 to his moral and spiritual state, while it has left some prin 
 ciple, some stamina, by which he may raise himself up to 
 the favor of God, and, without the foundation of a belief in 
 total depravity, become a holy temple to the Lord, recon 
 ciles us to low ideas of Christ and his work, and preserves 
 the pride and self-complacency which must, be brought 
 down before we can become partakers of the blessings of 
 the Gospel. 
 
 " A want of conviction of this natural state of man, which 
 constitutes the necessity of the wonderful plan of the Gos 
 pel, is the reason why persons do not know what regenera 
 tion means, and why preachers preach so indistinctly upon 
 it. Regeneration is the change in the natural state of man, 
 the radical alteration of this character, the slaying of the 
 enmity of the heart, (for the carnal mind is enmity to 
 God, ) the bowing and renewing of the will. This change 
 does not produce any new powers in the heart, but it 
 changes the direction of the powers, the will, and the affec 
 tions. It is the beginning of a new life, with new principles, 
 new views, and new objects of delight and aversion. With 
 out this change no one can see the kingdom of God. Make 
 36 
 
422 
 
 the tree good, and the fruit will be good ; but as long as the 
 tree is corrupt the fruit will be corrupt. They who are in 
 the flesh cannot please God. This cannot mean in the 
 body, because of many such it has been known that they 
 pleased God. Neither can it mean those who live in great 
 sensuality, because emulation, wrath, strife are fruits of the 
 flesh, as much as intemperance or sensuality. It means 
 those who are in the state of their natural birth, as born of 
 the flesh. Man cannot raise himself up, or produce the 
 new birth. He may do much, if he will not resist and op 
 pose the plain truths of God, toward making himself sensible 
 of his need of this birth ; but, in order to its being effected, 
 he must bow and yield himself, as a poor, helpless, guilty, 
 and justly condemned sinner, to sovereign grace. He 
 must receive Christ as he is offered to him in the Gospel. 
 Christ is the plank thrown out to sinners in their shipwreck, 
 and they must grasp it by faith, and rest upon him, or they 
 perish. To them who receive him, to them power is given 
 to become the sons of God, even to them who believe in 
 his name, who are born not of blood, nor of the will of the 
 flesh, nor of -the will of man, but of God. We must submit 
 to this righteousness of Christ. If we do not, however much 
 zeal we may use to establish our own righteousness, we 
 shall never attain to the law of holiness, and shall only 
 compass ourselves about with sparks of our own kindling. 
 The prophet Isaiah has said, such shall receive this at the 
 hand of God, that they shall lie down in sorrow. 
 
 " If any man be in Christ, the Apostle says, he is a new 
 creature ; to be carnally minded is death, but to be spirit 
 ually minded is life and peace. Christians are God s work 
 manship, created in Christ Jesus to good works, which God 
 hath before ordained, .that we should walk in them. Till 
 we are created in Christ Jesus, then, till we repent and be 
 lieve in him, till we are regenerated, we cannot produce 
 those good works, which God has before ordained, wherein 
 
WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 423 
 
 Christians should walk. If you are at a loss upon the na 
 ture of regeneration, read Dr. Doddridge s sermons on that 
 subject. 
 
 " You say, my dear child, that you have no idea of ar 
 riving in this world to any particular stage of goodness, but 
 that all must be progress. If you mean a state of perfec 
 tion, which your following remarks indicate, no one that is 
 taught of God has any such idea. But we must commence 
 a state of goodness ; we must change our master. The evil 
 one must be cast out of us, and Christ must take possession 
 of our hearts. We must not only have our hearts swept, 
 but washed ; c without holiness no man shall see the Lord. 
 We shall not then think we have no more to do, but we 
 shall think we can never do enough for him that hath loved 
 us and washed us in his blood. We shall then work from 
 life and love, and not for them. If we should attain that 
 assurance which we are commanded to use all diligence to 
 attain, so as not to be banished from God, we shall have an 
 increased concern not to do anything to grieve and offend 
 him, and we shall have more ardent wishes to abound in the 
 fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ, to the 
 praise and glory of God. 
 
 " You say, my dear child, that you know that you are 
 unworthy to come to the communion ; you would use it as a 
 means ; and you ask if deferring it will make your sins less. 
 If you have come to Christ, this is all the worthiness that 
 any will ever have, their sole title to this ordinance. 
 You are unworthy to come to Christ, but his invitation and 
 command removes the obstacle, and gives you a fair title 
 to come ; and, however unworthy you are, if you do come, 
 you shall be welcome, and all things shall work together for 
 your good. Un worthiness never was an obstacle ; it is only 
 unwillingness to corne to the terms of the Gospel that 
 ruins us. 
 
 " Nothing on earth could give me higher happiness than 
 
424 DR. BUCKMINSTER S CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 to have ground to believe that Christ was formed in the 
 hearts of my children, that they had truly given themselves 
 to the Lord ; then it would be a joy to me to have them 
 enroll their names in the church committed to their Father s 
 care. But it matters little in what Christian records our 
 names are written, if they are written in the Lamb s book 
 of life. Some churches have departed from the funda 
 mental doctrines of the Gospel, but their corruptions will 
 not destroy the comfort and usefulness of the ordinances, 
 to those who with penitent and believing hearts partake of 
 them. 
 
 " If your are satisfied, my child, respecting your right 
 to the ordinance, that you do indeed receive its Divine 
 author as your Lord, that you can take up your cross and 
 follow him in sincere and faithful allegiance, you had better 
 not delay any longer to join your brother s church ; but let 
 a father entreat you not to rest in a name to live, while you 
 are dead ; not in a form of godliness without its power; 
 that power that shall bring every thought into captivity to the 
 obedience of faith. Do not content yourself with that phi 
 losophic, speculative religion, which may give God much 
 in profession and in ritual observances, but reserves the 
 heart for the world, its fashions, and its customs. 
 
 " I should have been too happy in this world had God 
 led my children to see Divine truth as I think it ought to 
 be discerned, and to hold fast what I conceive to be the 
 truth as it is in Jesus. But he has suffered them, in my 
 view, through the pride of science and the fascinations of 
 philosophy, to be perverted from the truth, and to hold 
 dangerous errors ; whether he will ever rescue them I know 
 not : some have been recovered from these snares, there 
 fore I have hope. I must leave them with God. I have 
 said everything to my dear son that is profitable to be 
 said. Nothing will convince him, and turn him from his 
 errors, but that still small voice which followed the earth- 
 
WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 425 
 
 quake and the fire in the vision of Elijah and made the 
 prophet wrap his face in his mantle. O that it would please 
 God to grant you and him, and all my children, this efficient 
 voice, that you might understand me, and I should no longer 
 be to you such as you would not. But I must give myself 
 to prayer. 
 
 " I am sorry for poor W. He was a faithful servant in 
 my family many years ago. Give my love to him, and 
 present him the inclosed." 
 
 "December, 1811. 
 
 " MY DEAR CHILD, Since I had the pleasure of seeing 
 you in Boston, or of hearing anything directly from you, 
 you have voluntarily associated yourself with the family 
 and Church of Christ, and given yourself to htm as your 
 head and husband ; for the Church is his bride, purchased 
 at an inestimable price, even the price of his precious blood. 
 I hope you have felt yourself altogether unworthy of this 
 honor, unworthy even to be placed among his servants, and 
 that you have ventured upon this solemn transaction, be 
 cause he has called you, and constrained you to love him, 
 and to prefer him to every other, even your chiefest joy. 
 O, my daughter, if God has wrought you to this self-same 
 thing, if he has formed you to this temper and affection, 
 how happy are you ! How happy arn I, to have one of my 
 own children, the children of my dearest love, adopted into 
 the family of Christ, into whose heart the spirit of adoption 
 is poured so that you can with filial confidence cry Abba, 
 Father ! 
 
 " But you will permit the anxiety of a father to suggest 
 to you that we must not rest upon any external observances, 
 nor formal covenan tings, however solemnly performed, as 
 certain evidence of our gracious state, or of our title through 
 grace to the Divine favor. There is no dispute with any 
 who claim the title of Christians, that, as God is a spirit, 
 they who worship him must worship him in spirit and in 
 36* 
 
426 DR. BUCKMINSTER S CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 truth. This claim, which we may not disdain nor dispute, 
 is, My son, give me thy heart. Let us give him what we 
 may, if this be withheld, if his authority and pleasure be 
 disputed, and other objects rival him in .our love, we cannot 
 belong to him nor he to us. 
 
 " It is our duty to profess religion. With the heart man 
 believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession 
 is made unto salvation, but there is danger of resting in the 
 confession, without a due concern that the faith that influ 
 ences it is seated in the heart, and commands and governs 
 it. The Apostle Peter exhorts those whom he addresses 
 as brethren, and who, therefore, must be considered as being 
 of the visible family of Christ, to give diligence to make 
 their calling and election sure, which must mean that call 
 ing which does insure eternal life, for he says, so an en 
 trance shall be administered to you abundantly into the ever 
 lasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who 
 is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. Let a father 
 entreat you, my dear child, to use diligence to add to your 
 faith, virtue, that is, a holy, heavenly zeal and courage ; and 
 to virtue, knowledge ; and to make your calling and election 
 sure. If you ask me what this calling is, I know not that 
 I can answer you better than in the words of that formula 
 of religious truth and duty, which I regret I did not more 
 carefully and diligently teach my children when they were 
 young, and which I wish they would impartially study and 
 compare with the word of God, now they are older. 
 Effectual calling is a work of God s spirit, whereby con 
 vincing us of our sin and misery, and enlightening our 
 minds in the knowledge of Christ, and renewing our wills, 
 he doth persuade and enable us to embrace Jesus Christ, 
 freely offered to us in the Gospel. No one, I think, can 
 object to this description of the calling of God that is unto 
 salvation, who is not willing to be satisfied with a body 
 without a soul, or with a shadow without the substance. 
 
WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 427 
 
 Religion is the informing spirit of the heart, and shows its 
 fruits in the life and conversation. It is our victory, over 
 coming the world and all that is in the world, as the lusts 
 of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life, all 
 which are not of religion, but of the world. There are 
 indeed babes, young men, and fathers, in Christ ; but the 
 babe has a principle of respect to Christ, though it may not 
 be as strong and vigorous as in those who have the other 
 titles. The water that I shall give you, saith he from 
 whom all our good gifts must come, shall be in you a well 
 of water springing up to everlasting life. I hope that 
 Christ rules in your heart and affections, and that, although 
 you do not separate yourself from the world and the men 
 of the world, yet that they are not the inmates of your 
 heart, and your chosen companions, but that your delight 
 is in the saints, the excellent of the earth, and that you 
 love to retire from the cares and pleasures of the world to 
 your Bible and your closet, that you may converse with 
 Christ. 
 
 "Although your father is a guilty and miserable sinner, 
 who trusts that none of his children has so much offended 
 God as he has done, yet he has hope that through grace he 
 is a penitent sinner, and has found mercy with God ; and 
 although he loathes himself for his iniquities, yet he knows 
 from the Scripture that the least sinner must repent, if he 
 would escape perdition. There may be different degrees 
 or intensity of repentance, but it is of one nature. Your 
 father is the channel by which you, my children, have de 
 rived corruption and depravity, and you are by nature chil 
 dren of wrath ; would your father not be a monster, if he 
 did not strive with you till Christ be formed within you ? 
 That he stands in doubt of you, he cannot disguise, and that 
 he has more anxiety on this subject than upon any other, he 
 cannot conceal. I ascribe righteousness to my Maker ; he 
 is holy in all that with which he sees fit to exercise me ; 
 
428 DR. BUCKMINSTER S CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 but I often ask, whether he is not punishing the vanity and 
 ambition of your father in wishing his children to be distin 
 guished by intellectual attainments, by permitting them to 
 embrace a philosophic religion, and hiding from them the true 
 Gospel, and is thus granting my request by sending leanness 
 into their souls. If this be so, Father in heaven forgive 
 me and them ; and when we are corrected according to thy 
 good pleasure, bring my children into the true way to adore 
 Emanuel and enthrone him in their hearts ! 
 
 " You live, my dear daughter, in the atmosphere of lib 
 erality of principle ; your friends and visitors are Arians or 
 Socinians, who are disposed to object to our common trans 
 lation of the Scriptures, and thus impair their authority and 
 influence upon the minds and hearts of those who can 
 read no other. We may as well be without the Scriptures 
 as not to have confidence in them, that they are a safe rule 
 of faith and practice ; or to imagine that the things that are 
 necessary to our salvation depend upon verbal criticism, or 
 the wrangling of scholars who are striving for literary fame. 
 I was astonished lately at the remark of a person on this 
 subject, that she could not use the Scriptures to judge of 
 doctrines, unless she could read them in the original ; which 
 is to render the Scriptures useless to far the greater portion 
 of mankind. I hope the Socinian and Arian heresies are 
 not inconsistent with the salvation of those who are staggered 
 with them, but I cannot but tremble when I read the words of 
 the Apostle Peter, 2d Epistle, ii. 4, There shall be false 
 teachers among you, who privily shall bring in damnable her 
 esies, even denying the Lord Jesus that bought them, bring 
 ing upon themselves swift destruction. If those who are 
 affected with these sentiments are subjects of spiritual regen 
 eration, and do love God with a supreme love, and hate sin 
 in its nature as well as in its consequences, they will be with 
 God for ever ; they will never perish. But these errors are 
 generally connected with such views of regeneration, re- 
 
WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 429 
 
 pcntance, faith, etc., as do not issue in such a state of mind 
 and heart ; and they so diminish the evil of sin, and the im 
 mense sacrifice that it demanded, that I fear they will never 
 produce this effect. 
 
 " You yourself must have observed that these sentiments 
 abate the zeal ; they cool the ardor and solicitude of those 
 that hold them, compared with those who hold contrary sen 
 timents ; they make them more satisfied with the form of 
 godliness, where there is little evidence of the power of it ; 
 they are rarely interested in subjects that address the heart or 
 relate to the safety of the soul, and that grace of God by 
 which its safety is insured ; the objects of their pursuit 
 and ambition are in some sense or other worldly objects. 
 This affords a strong suspicion that they err from the faith ; 
 for truth sanctifies the soul, and they who are risen with 
 Christ set their affections upon things above. 
 
 " Whether these errors be consistent with a state of grace 
 or with the safety of the soul, I know not ; but this I know, 
 that God can recover those that have fallen into them, for he 
 has given such instances of his sovereign and triumphant 
 grace. This is the hope, that, like a distant gleam of light, 
 streaks the dark hemisphere that God has spread over me. 
 That he will some time recover your brother from the snare 
 in which he is entangled, and bring him to devote those pow 
 ers and acquirements which have been given him, to display 
 the glory of Christ as God, and the Saviour, and to build 
 again what he has aided to destroy, is the prayer of my soul. 
 Whether this be ever the case or not, God will be righteous, 
 and I must leave it. I hope my children will not be so 
 alienated from me as to lose their affection for me, because 
 I am so anxious for their safety that I cannot but express a 
 jealousy for them. 
 
 " I do not censure you, my daughter, for professing re 
 ligion and joining your brother s church ; but I must charge 
 you, that you do not rest in that as evidence of your re- 
 
430 REMARKS UPON 
 
 ligion ; but see that you be renewed in the spirit of your 
 mind, and possess a new nature as well as a new name. 
 Let your heart be devoted to God. Covet the society of 
 those that love Christ and are sincere in his praise. 
 
 " I have written thus largely to you, my daughter, in the 
 fulness of my heart. Can you think it is because I love you 
 not ? God knoweth ! We shall probably never be much 
 more together in this world. O, my child, let us be pre 
 pared to live with Christ in the world to come ! 
 
 " J. BUCKMINSTER." 
 
 It will be seen, by the preceding letters, that neither 
 father nor son had changed his views since the writing of 
 the former letters previous to the settlement of the son. 
 He, who had always felt too much reverence and child 
 like submission to his father to enter into controversy, or 
 even to defend his own views, seems at length, in the 
 last letter he ever wrote, to have resolved to take up the 
 other side ; or, as he expresses it, to present the oppo 
 site of that which he calls u the revolting forms of Cal 
 vinism." Had not death intervened, we might have 
 been able to read in his own words the result of his life 
 long inquiries, his faithful, thorough, and conscientious 
 investigation of the texts and authorities upon which 
 Calvinism rests its claims. Death interposed, and, 
 within twenty-four hours of time, placed them face to 
 face, without a veil between, where they could read the 
 sublime and indelible characters of eternal truth. 
 
 Perhaps it may not be arrogant to say, that this father 
 and son presented an epitome of that greater controversy 
 which afterwards divided the Church and community. It 
 may here be seen, divested of all bitterness and wrath, 
 and wrung reluctantly from both. Both were equal lov 
 ers of the truth, both sought it with a single purpose, 
 
THE CORRESPONDENCE. 431 
 
 and to both it was the vital element of thought ; and we 
 do them only justice to believe, that, had they lived in 
 an earlier age of the Church, both would have sealed 
 their confession with their death. 
 
 The father received his education at Yale College at 
 the beginning of the war of the Revolution, when, to 
 use the \vords*of a son of Yale, "the religious slate of 
 the college was very low, and it must have been from 
 high spirituality of feeling that any young man would, at 
 that time, devote himself to the ministry." His own 
 religious convictions were, how r ever, at that time strong, 
 deep, and lasting. We quote from an author who prob 
 ably received the information from Dr. Buckminster 
 himself, that, " before he left New Haven, he was under 
 deep conviction. He almost sank in despair, but ob 
 tained the glorious hope that he had passed from death 
 unto life. It was then his purpose, as it was afterwards 
 his greatest delight, to consecrate his time, his talents, 
 his acquirements to the cause and interest of the Re 
 deemer." * It was at this time, doubtless, that he wrote 
 the confession of faith and form of self-dedication to the 
 service of God which appears on pages 19 23. This 
 is a confession of pure Calvinism. That his views were 
 afterwards somewhat modified appears from his not 
 adopting the Assembly s Catechism for his eldest chil 
 dren ; and that these views had not the supreme impor 
 tance in his mind at one period, may be inferred from 
 the little prominence that is given to them in the prayers 
 of the " Piscataqua Prayer-Book." From causes obvious 
 to the writer, but which cannot be mentioned here, Dr. 
 Buckminster became more anxious, in the last years of 
 
 * Rev. Timothy Alden, of Portsmouth. 
 
432 RELIGIOUS DIFFERENCES. 
 
 his life, to enforce his own peculiar Calvinistic faith ; and 
 it cannot he asserted, that, at any time, there was any 
 essential change from that early confession of faith. Af 
 ter his settlement over a parish, he certainly did not 
 pursue any critical or Biblical studies, except in the 
 common version of the English Bible. The writer does 
 not recollect his ever reverting to any other. His par 
 ish was large, and he was extremely devoted to parish 
 duties. He could not be called a student, in any sense 
 of the word, except so far as writing sermons requires 
 study. He wrote a large, a very large, number of ser 
 mons, and probably made some mental preparation for 
 his extemporaneous addresses. But his library and study- 
 table furnished none of the means, as his constant devo 
 tion to his parish left no leisure, for critical researches or 
 learned investigation ; and, in his letters to his daughter, 
 he deprecates tc the pride of science and the wrangling 
 of scholars," and avow r s the English Bible sufficient for 
 all purposes of the knowledge of God. 
 
 The early years of his son were passed under all the 
 influences of his father s faith, enforced and strengthened 
 by the example of his father s devout and eminently pious 
 life ; and we have seen that his own genial nature was not 
 susceptible of gloom or superstition, although he was at 
 a very early age a thoughtful and deeply reflective youth. 
 The religion that he learned from his father was associated 
 with all his youthful feelings of devotion, and was prob 
 ably very dear to his young affections. It must have 
 been by gradual processes, as his understanding and rea 
 son developed and his inquiries advanced, that Calvinism 
 lost its hold upon his affections, as it did upon his intel 
 lect. 
 
 We have seen that he was thoroughly versed in the 
 
CRITICAL STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 433 
 
 languages in which the Scriptures were written, and one 
 of the most distinguished classical scholars that Harvard 
 ever sent forth from its honored shades. It must have 
 been from the love of truth, that he was led to investi 
 gate conscientiously, as he did, the original meaning of 
 the words in which the Bible was written ; to compare 
 texts and commentators ; to go back to the very foun 
 tain-head ; to procure the earliest copies of the Scrip 
 tures, and to spend days, and weeks, and months, and 
 years in efforts to restore the text to its original purity, 
 with all the helps he could derive, not only from Bibli 
 cal scholars, the ancient fathers, and the earliest teach 
 ers of the Church, but by the help also of learned com 
 mentators upon what are called the profane writers. He 
 made the Greek language his study till the day of his 
 death, in order to give its help to his conscientious in 
 quiries ; and although his principles of interpretation, and- 
 many of his reasonings, are not those of a large number 
 of Biblical critics, his candor, and honesty, and sincerity 
 have never been called in question. An extract from his 
 journal will show that he made the daily duty of do 
 mestic worship a subsidiary aid to his own studies and 
 researches. It is immediately after his settlement : 
 u I have commenced reading Doddridge s Family Ex 
 positor in the morning, before family prayers ; I read 
 the text and notes, with the improvement, before the 
 domestics are called in to hear the prayer. After break 
 fast, I examine the difficult passages in other commen 
 tators, especially in Whitby, and read the original 
 Greek, and Wakefield s or some other translation." 
 
 His library was dispersed, by public sale, after his 
 death ; but could some of the books that were his daily 
 study have been preserved together, it would have been 
 37 
 
434 CRITICAL STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 
 
 seen how faithful and exact was his reading. He read 
 with pencil or pen in his hand, and many of his books 
 were interleaved for the purpose of making his own re 
 marks or those of others as he read. An interleaved 
 Grotius De Veritate is now in the possession of the 
 writer, which shows his careful and faithful research. 
 It will be seen in the Appendix that he was lavish in 
 his expenditure to procure ancient copies of the Scrip 
 tures, and that his little fortune was spent in obtaining 
 the books which he felt were requisite to enable him 
 to come to a knowledge of the truth. His researches 
 sent him back behind synods and councils ; behind King 
 James s translation of the Bible ; behind Calvin and 
 Luther, Athanasius and St. Augustine, to the simplicity 
 of the primitive Church, to the faith of the Apostles 
 and the teaching of Christ. That with all these aids, 
 and this faithful study, the son s investigations resulted 
 in a firm and decided faith in that form of Christianity 
 which has since been called Unitarianism, and that it 
 was painful to both father and son thus to differ, is equal 
 ly honorable to both. Both were lovers of truth, both 
 conscientious, and yet they differed toto cce/o in their 
 speculative belief. Who shall say that the son was not 
 as honest and sincere as the father ? that conscience 
 and honor did not enter as fully into his studies as into 
 those of his father ? that devotion to God, and love to 
 man, were not as much the moving springs in his, as in 
 his father s soul ? 
 
 The results to which each had come they both taught 
 unreservedly, the son with as much openness as the 
 father, but without giving himself a name ; and perhaps 
 it was the wish and hope of those who early departed 
 from Calvinism to receive no sectarian name, to be- 
 
PRACTICAL RELIGION. 435 
 
 long to that antisectarian sect, " whose religion," ac 
 cording to Dr. Kirkland, " consisted in being religious." 
 His preaching met the wants of the multitudes who 
 thronged to hear him. Those who had found Calvin 
 ism insufficient for the wants of the soul, and were 
 tempted, like the young perscrh to whose letter he refers, 
 cc to wish, that, if such representations of Christianity 
 were a just picture of what should be a most beneficent 
 religion, they would be glad to find it not true," such 
 persons were nourished and made better by his preach 
 ing. 
 
 The truth, in relation to father and son, seemed to 
 demand that the above remarks should be made, not 
 because, in the humble view of the writer, Calvinism 
 or Lutheranism are essential forms of Christianity, but 
 in anticipation of that time, when religion will not be 
 wholly concerned with speculative doctrines, but with 
 the life of truth ; and that life not manifested by the 
 mere externals of particular forms or even of charities, 
 but by the beauty of holiness, the exhibition of the 
 beauty of the perfect law, the life of God in the soul 
 of man. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DEATH OF REV. MR. EMERSON. APPOINTMENT OF J. S. 
 
 BUCKMINSTER AS LECTURER UPON THE DEXTER FOUNDA 
 TION IN HARVARD COLLEGE. STUDY OF GERMAN. IN 
 TELLECTUAL CHARACTER AND HABITS. LAST ILLNESS. 
 
 1811. IN May of 1811 died the Rev. William 
 
 Aged 27. Emerson, pastor of the First Church in Bos 
 ton. This church, and that in Brattle Street, had been 
 associated together in the interchange of their sacra 
 mental lectures, each pastor preaching in the pulpit 
 of the other in the afternoon of the Sabbath of the 
 Lord s Supper. This was an endearing interchange 
 of ministerial duties, and, to one as susceptible of all 
 Christian charities as was the pastor of Brattle Street, 
 it was sufficient to bind Mr. Emerson to him in tender 
 relations. My brother preached the funeral sermon, and, 
 in reverting to the circumstance that the pastors of the 
 two churches had alternately officiated at each other s 
 obsequies, a prophetic foreboding escaped him, that he 
 should next follow his brother. A personal feeling of 
 regretful resignation selected the words which he in 
 troduced towards the close of the sermon, - 
 
 " O, t is well 
 
 With him ! But who knows what the coming hour, 
 Veiled in thick darkness, brings for us ? " 
 
SER3ION ON THE DEATH OF REV. MR. EMERSON. 437 
 
 In this sermon he spoke of the value of posthumous 
 reputation. 
 
 " Though one of the most common, it is still one of the 
 sweetest, rewards of acknowledged and respected virtue, to 
 leave the minds of survivors turning involuntarily towards 
 the contemplation of that worth which they are no longer 
 to enjoy. Then the excellences of the departed take full 
 possession of our imaginations ; and we find ourselves en 
 gaged in calling up their merits, which, because we had 
 so little fear of losing, we had, perhaps, undervalued, or not 
 fully regarded. Then, when we find them no more in the 
 places which once knew them, recollection is busy about 
 the spots which they frequented, and there start up a thou 
 sand affecting remembrances of their character and man 
 ners. When we are called upon to supply their places, the 
 task is found more painful and difficult than we had imag 
 ined ; and we begin to wish that we had valued them more, 
 and loved them better, as well as enjoyed them longer. 
 The void left by the death of good men time does not fill, 
 indeed, but only throws further back into the retrospect. 
 We come to their last obsequies with unwonted fondness ; 
 our lips are ready to show forth their praise ; our affections 
 linger about their graves ; we feel more than ever that we 
 are strangers and pilgrims on the earth, and wish more 
 than ever to die the death of the righteous, 
 
 " This sentiment of posthumous regard, so tender, and 
 yet so strong, is the reward only of genuine worth, and is 
 entirely different from those demonstrations of respect which 
 are paid to men who have enjoyed the more distinction 
 during life the less intimately they were known, and whom 
 we consent to bury with honor, to avoid the further ex 
 pression of our real opinion. He whose remains are now 
 before us has left many bowed down with unaffected 
 37* 
 
438 SERMON ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 grief, who come prepared and willing now to dwell awhile 
 on his character. Affection and faithful memory, therefore, 
 will supply whatever may be wanting in the following re 
 marks, which are made with something of that restraint 
 which would be felt if the departed were capable of now 
 listening to the speaker. For there is something sacred in 
 the presence of his remains, to which reverence and mod 
 esty are due, no less than truth and affection." 
 
 In October of this year died the Hon. James Bow- 
 doin. He had ever been a member of, and a bene 
 factor to, the church of Brattle Street.* It was in 
 his family that the pastor of Brattle Street was re 
 ceived with so much kindness, while the former was 
 ambassador, and the latter w r as visiting Paris in 1806. 
 To him, and to Mrs. Bowdoin, was he continually in 
 debted for the expression of a warm and most affection 
 ate friendship. A part of the sermon preached the Sab 
 bath after his interment was published, the closing para 
 graphs of which are here inserted. 
 
 "But I see before me an object f which admonishes us 
 that the usual time of service has elapsed, while we have 
 been speaking of him whose name it bears. Once it re 
 minded us of his bounty ; now it reminds us of his de 
 parture. Once it told us that he remembered us ; now it 
 calls on us to remember him. Lately it measured the hand- 
 breadth of his age, as it now measures our own ; 
 
 * Mr. Bowdoin, in his will, left fifty pounds to the church in Brat 
 tle Square, and fifty to the pastor. 
 
 f The former clock in the church in Brattle Square was given by 
 Governor Bowdoin; but as it was old and much out of repair, the late 
 Mr. Bowdoin replaced it not long before his death by the present 
 time-piece. 
 
HON. JAMES BOWDOIN. 439 
 
 but to him hours and weeks and days and years revolve 
 no more ! He has entered on an unmeasurable period ! 
 
 " How fair an emblem is this of man himself; always 
 passing on, yet unconscious of his own motion ! When we 
 fix our attention on the moment which is passing, we seem 
 to arrest it. We discern no lapse. All appears stationary, 
 and the time is long and tedious. But let us withdraw our 
 attention from the dial, and yield ourselves for a few 
 moments to the usual succession of thoughts, and when we 
 return again to examine the index of our time, what a space 
 has been traversed ! 
 
 " Is it possible that a minute can be made to appear so 
 long by attention ? How long, then, might the whole of 
 life be made to appear, would we but attend to it, and vigi 
 lantly mark and improve the hours ! But that steady 
 
 monitor proceeds, whether we mark or not its motion. Here, 
 in the place of our solemnities, it measures off some of the 
 most important portions of life. Presently the shadows of 
 the evening will rest on this holy place, and this house be 
 emptied of its worshippers. Presently, after a few more 
 revolutions of those unconscious indexes, not one of these 
 worshippers will be heard of on earth. The places which 
 now know them will know them no more for ever ; and when 
 it is asked, Where are they ? the answer must be, They are 
 gone to appear before God ! 
 
 " Lord, make us to know the measure of our days 
 
 to mark the shadow of our lives ! For man that is born of 
 woman fleeth as a shadow and continueth not." 
 
 One other production of his pen belonging to this year 
 or the preceding, is a memorial addressed to the Over 
 seers of the College, upon the subject nearest his heart, 
 a professorship of sacred literature. This is an elo 
 quent paper ; but as the object, holding in his estimation 
 so profound an interest, was this year effected, this me 
 morial could have had but a passing interest. 
 
440 APPOINTMENT AS LECTURER 
 
 His sermons this year were not inferior in interest to 
 any that he had preached. By a memorandum, pre 
 served among his papers, it appears that he wrote, in 
 the course of the year, fifty-seven, and preached in his 
 own pulpit sixty-nine times. 
 
 " This year, 1811, he received a proof of the estimation 
 in which his knowledge in his favorite walk of study was 
 held, by his appointment as first lecturer on Biblical criti 
 cism, upon the foundation established by the Hon. Samuel 
 Dexter. This appointment was universally thought to be 
 an honor most justly due to his preeminent attainments in 
 this science." * 
 
 His reply to the letter of appointment was as fol 
 lows : 
 
 "To the Rev. Dr. Kirkland, President of the University in 
 Cambridge : 
 
 " SIR, I have received from you the official notice of 
 my unexpected appointment to the office of first lecturer on 
 the Dexter foundation. The trustees will please to accept 
 my acknowledgments for the honor which they have con 
 ferred, and of which you, sir, have informed me in a man 
 ner that deserves my gratitude. Nothing, beside the cus 
 tomary pleas of. want of leisure and abilities, has occurred 
 to me as a peculiar objection to my acceptance of this duty, 
 except the previous conviction that the introductory lectures, 
 on this difficult subject, should be entrusted to some one 
 whose age and acknowledged merits in theology would gain 
 for them more consideration than will probably be secured 
 by the present appointment. 
 
 " If this suggestion has already received the full consid 
 eration which it seems to me to deserve, and of which, but 
 for the result of your meeting, I should have no doubt, I 
 
 * Thacher s Memoir. 
 
ON BIBLICAL CRITICISM. 441 
 
 am ready to submit to the final opinion of those whom I 
 have always been accustomed to respect, and, if they 
 should so determine, prepare myself, as well as the time 
 allowed, and my own health, will permit, to execute the du 
 ties of the appointment." 
 
 Mr. Buckminster received this appointment with the 
 highest gratification ; although there is no doubt of the 
 sincerity and real diffidence with which he suggested 
 that some older theologian should deliver the introduc 
 tory lectures. He began an extensive preparation with 
 the greatest ardor, and by a minute review of his former 
 reading. He immediately sent a large order to Ger 
 many for books, and began the study of the German 
 language with such intensity of interest as to deprive 
 him of sleep. Every hour of the day was occupied 
 with its appropriate duty ; but, to secure the acquisition 
 of German, he made the effort of rising two hours 
 earlier in the morning, intending to retire earlier at 
 night. The master was engaged for six o clock in the 
 morning, and the pupil was usually ready ; but it was 
 impossible to keep the second part of the resolution, 
 that of retiring early. Like all persons of ardent and 
 nervous temperament, the fear of sleeping too late, and 
 the intensity of interest in a new study, deprived him 
 of the blessed refreshment of sleep, at the very time he 
 most needed its restorative powers. His sister writes, 
 in a letter of this date : cc Joseph, I fear, will make 
 himself ill, for he has taken it into his head to study 
 German, and, for this purpose, has a master with him 
 from six to eight o clock in the morning. It is true 
 he has generally gone to bed rather before his usual 
 time ; but he is so much interested, that he sleeps very 
 little." 
 
442 STUDY OF GERMAN. 
 
 t 
 
 It was in consequence of the appointment of lecturer 
 that he began the study of German. It appears, by a 
 letter to Dr. Herbert Marsh, of the preceding year, that 
 it had been hitherto precluded by other studies. 
 
 "May 13th, 1810. 
 
 "Sin, I have no excuse to offer for the presumption 
 of directing these lines to you, except admiration of your 
 learning, gratitude for your labors, and the persuasion that 
 it will not be disagreeable to you to receive from this re 
 mote region an edition of Griesbach s Greek Testament, 
 executed with care and accuracy. It is copied, page for 
 page, from Goschen s octavo edition, Leipsic, 1805, which 
 I was so fortunate as to bring with me from Europe, and 
 to persuade the government of our University, at Cam 
 bridge, to reprint and introduce as a text-book. The young 
 gentleman who gives you this note* is intended for a 
 preacher, and proposes to finish his studies at Edinburg. 
 But, as soon as I learned that you had commenced a course of 
 lectures at Cambridge, I admitted the hope that some of my 
 young countrymen might have the privilege of hearing, 
 them; upon what terms this may be obtained I have re 
 quested him to inquire, and, if possible, avail himself of 
 this opportunity. 
 
 " I had the happiness of spending a few days at Cam 
 bridge in the summer of 1807, but you were absent. By 
 the kindness of Dr. Abthorp, and his friends, of Emanuel 
 College, I received every attention, which I remember with 
 the utmost kindness and gratitude. But, sir, I feel under in 
 expressible obligations to you for the translation of Mi- 
 chaelis, which has made a new era in my mind, and I am 
 almost ashamed to express the impatience with which I an 
 ticipate the conclusion of your notes. 
 
 " Such is the extent of my parish, and the variety of my 
 
 * Rev. Francis Parkman, D. D., of Boston. 
 
HABITS OF STUDY. 443 
 
 duties to that, as well as to society at large, that I have 
 neither. time nor courage at present for the acquisition of the 
 German language. And yet there are several points of 
 theological inquiry which I burn to explore, and I would 
 willingly relinquish all knowledge of French for this single 
 acquisition. But at present I feel condemned to painful ig 
 norance, encouraging myself with the hope that you, or 
 some of your pupils, will soon do that for Eichhorn which 
 you have done so well for Michaelis." 
 
 It would be perhaps a fruitless wish to endeavour to 
 give the reader an idea of the intensity of interest with 
 which he pursued his new study, and all the studies 
 connected with his new object. His love of study had 
 always been the passion of his soul, and accounts for a 
 peculiarity of manner mentioned by his former biog 
 rapher. 
 
 " Though he was eminently and habitually cheerful," 
 says Mr. Thacher, " there were occasional inequalities in 
 his manner ; and there were moments when there appeared 
 in him a sort of reserve, and want of interest in those about 
 him, which made his character misunderstood by some who, 
 if they had known him more, would have found him formed 
 to engage all their esteem and love. These occasional de 
 partures from his habitual manners were, I am confident, to 
 be traced to his bodily indisposition. Many of his friends, 
 who have entered his room when he was suffering under 
 this effect of disease, well remember, that, after a few mo 
 ments conversation, he would shake off the oppression of 
 his languor, his wonted smile would play over his features, 
 that peculiar animation which usually lighted up his coun 
 tenance would again break out, and he would enter into 
 any subject proposed with the warmest and liveliest in 
 terest." 
 
444 INTELLECTUAL HABITS. 
 
 I should give a different solution of his apparent ab 
 sence of manner at some moments. He was a thorough 
 student. His heart was in his studies. When he was 
 employed with his books, during the day, he was per 
 petually withdrawn from them by the various interrup 
 tions of business and friends. When, therefore, he was 
 broken in upon, while his attention was wholly absorbed 
 by some favorite study, he could not immediately re 
 cover the elasticity of his mind, and enter into a subject 
 wholly foreign, or into the cares or the pleasures of his 
 visitor. That he had moments of deep depression, 
 when he reflected upon the probable consequences of 
 his malady, is, no doubt, true ; but he never allowed 
 himself in any morbid contemplation of possible evils. 
 His faith in the beneficence of God was the ruling influ 
 ence of his mind. I cannot so well describe his intel 
 lectual habits as in the words of the elegant biography 
 to which I have been so often indebted. 
 
 " Tn his intellectual habits, I do not remember to have re 
 marked any singularity. He was a real student. He had 
 that first requisite of all true and durable greatness, the 
 habit of patient and long-continued attention. He possessed 
 the genuine fyikoTtovia, the love of labor for itself. Fie 
 could delight in the driest and most minute researches, as 
 well as in the lofty and ethereal visions of fancy. Like 
 the majority of men of learning, he loved to read more 
 than to think, and to think more than to write. He com 
 posed with rapidity, but with intellectual toil ; and his best 
 efforts were not made without a high degree of mental ex 
 citement. If I were required to state, in one word, in what 
 branch of knowledge his excellence was most conspicuous, 
 I should say it was philology, understanding by this word 
 the knowledge of language as an instrument of thought, in 
 
PHILOLOGICAL STUDIES. 445 
 
 all its propriety and force, as well as in all its shades and 
 varieties of meaning ; in its general theory, as well as in 
 its modifications in different countries ; and, finally, in all its 
 grace and beauty, as it is fitted to invest truth in its richest 
 and most attractive dress. 
 
 " But it was the light which philology pours on the rec 
 ords of our faith and hope, which gave it its chief value to 
 the mind of Mr. Buckminster. It was the study of the 
 Scriptures in their original languages, which most power 
 fully seized and occupied his attention, and engaged him in 
 a course of inquiries which he never thought himself at lib 
 erty long to desert. He was always of opinion that the 
 principles of Christianity, in their original purity and sim 
 plicity, were to be preserved where they are already held, 
 and recalled where they are lost or obscured, only by the 
 study of the Bible, according to the maxims of a sound, 
 and enlightened, and cautious criticism. One of his strong 
 est passions was a desire to diffuse a love of Biblical studies; 
 and the impulse, among us, which has lately been given to 
 inquiries on these subjects, is to be attributed to his exer 
 tions and example."* 
 
 To the above I am permitted to add the testimony 
 of one who knew him well, and who was eminently able 
 to appreciate his attainments, f 
 
 " Mr. Buckminster was a thorough scholar, and always a 
 diligent student. In theology, he lelonged to the class^of 
 liberal inquirers. But, though deeply sensible of his duty 
 to derive his faith from the Christian Scriptures, and un 
 willing to submit his understanding to the dictation^ of 
 others, he had too strong a mind, and far too much learn 
 ing, "as well as too profound a sense of responsibility, to 
 permit of his embracing any of those wild opinions which 
 
 * Thacher s Memoir. t Mr. William Wells. 
 
 38 
 
446 INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. 
 
 are supposed, by those who hold them, to be modern discov 
 eries, but which he knew had been long ago examined and 
 refuted. He was thoroughly acquainted with the writings of 
 the eminent English Unitarians of the last century, and held 
 them in high estimation, not only for having done so much 
 towards the introduction and establishment of liberal in 
 quiries in England, but as having introduced into this coun 
 try those principles of Scripture interpretation which have 
 spread so widely, and to the support and dissemination of 
 which he himself contributed so eminently and largely." 
 
 The various accounts which have been given of Mr. 
 Buckminster s studies indicate very distinctly the char 
 acter of his intellect ; they enable us to anticipate what 
 he would have accomplished had his life been spared, 
 and the influence he might have exerted upon the litera 
 ture of the country. His mind was not of that lofty 
 character which can dwell perpetually in abstractions, 
 and win for itself glory in metaphysical and mathematical 
 science. His mind was rapid and clear in its operations, 
 and both inventive and illustrative ; correct, acute, and 
 thorough in criticism. He was able to compass, by a 
 rapid intellectual survey, directed by quick moral per 
 ceptions, that which the moral reasoner arrives at by 
 slow and laborious processes. I avail myself here of 
 the words of a friend and classmate,* in describing the 
 character of his intellect. 
 
 " I confine myself," says his friend, " principally to liter- 
 at^re, in the limited and appropriate signification of the term. 
 He was not a man of science, as that term is technically 
 used. The mathematics he did not love. He had no taste 
 for abstract studies, and in this early part of his life he man- 
 
 * Rev. Joshua Bates, D. D. 
 
INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. 447 
 
 ifesied an aversion to metaphysical speculations and tran 
 scendental flights of fancy. It is true, he made himself ac 
 quainted with what may be called the literature of sci 
 ence. He knew the origin, the progress, the state, indeed 
 the whole history, of every science of the age. He could 
 tell who made each discovery, and who was the inventor of 
 the instruments, and what were the appliances by which it 
 was made. He could speak learnedly of the character and 
 merits of the philosophers of all ages and countries, and 
 beautifully illustrate the topics of literature on which he des 
 canted by appropriate allusions to the success of scientific 
 principles. But here his intercourse with the sciences, es 
 pecially the abstract sciences, ended. The principles them 
 selves he never investigated. The details of classification 
 and the tedious steps of demonstration he never pursued. 
 He had no taste for the study of the pure mathematics, nor 
 _did he-xelish at all the tardy and entangled processes of log 
 ical deduction and metaphysical disquisition. 
 
 " At the period of our college life, very little oral instruc 
 tion was imparted to the students. Two public lectures were 
 delivered, and no familiar illustrations were given in con 
 nection with the study of the prescribed text-books. Of 
 course, the acquisitions of students depended very much on 
 their own efforts and ingenuity. Every one had much time 
 to devote to studies of his own choice, and the education ob 
 tained by any was, much more than at present, self-educa 
 tion. The kind and degree of each one s attainment cor 
 responded very nearly with his taste, capacity, and efforts, 
 his genius and industry. This fact made Mr. Buckminster 
 a man of literature rather than of science ; a scholar of 
 high order, but not of universal attainments ; a man of learn 
 ing as well as genius, but not distinguished for deep re 
 search and analytical investigation ; a model in matters jaf 
 taste, grammatical : . accuracy jjand. rhetorical beauty, but not 
 in logical deduction, abstract reasoning, and philosophical 
 criticism. 
 
448 INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. 
 
 " I should speak of the fixedness of his attention to the 
 chosen objects of his contemplation, and the perfect com 
 mand which he possessed over the current of his associated 
 thoughts, as the first and most obvious quality of his mind. 
 His perceptive powers were quick and excursive. This has 
 already been stated with reference to the rapid movement 
 and far-searching glance of his eye. But the statement 
 should not be confined to the sense of sight. The remark 
 might be extended with truth to all his organs and powers of 
 perception, for they were all connected with a keen and del 
 icate sensibility, and directed by an irrepressible desire of 
 knowledge. 
 
 "Of the principles of association, on which memory and 
 imagination, comparison and the processes of reasoning de 
 pend, as they were developed in his mind and exercised in 
 his literary career, by which he acquired knowledge so easi 
 ly and rapidly, and by which his acquisitions were held so 
 firmly, and held in such distinct classification as to be always 
 ready for appropriate use, of these principles, as they ex 
 isted in his mind, I should say they were those which belong 
 to the poet rather than the philosopher. His mind moved, 
 indeed, habitually under the control of the will, and, with a 
 self-command rarely possessed, he was able to exclude from 
 it every unwelcome thought and intruding idea, and his as 
 sociations were such as fitted him to excel in literature 
 
 His imagination was at once excursive and brilliant, chaste, 
 correct, and rich in its combinations, furnishing copious ma 
 terials for rhetorical embellishment. Indeed, it may be af 
 firmed, though he did not write poetry, he was born a poet, 
 and possessed all the elements of poetic genius. Had he 
 been willing, in his literary career, to stop at the foot of Par 
 nassus and drink largely of the waters of the Castalian fount, 
 and sport long with the Muses that play on its banks, he 
 might have been inspired with the spirit of poetry, and have 
 become in his day the Poet of America. 
 
INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. 449 
 
 " In conclusion, I subjoin the following strong but sincere 
 remark. Among all my literary friends in college, and during 
 a long life of familiarity with men distinguished in the several 
 departments of learning arid the learned professions in vari 
 ous parts of our country, I have never found one who 
 seemed to me to possess more of that indescribable charac 
 ter of mind, or rather, I should say, a more complete com 
 bination of those intellectual powers and susceptibilities which 
 we usually denominate genius, than JOSEPH STEVENS BUCK- 
 MINSTER. I have known men of more universal scholarship 
 and men of more dazzling wit ; indeed, I was about to make 
 an exception in favor of Fisher Ames, who, in some respects, 
 especially in the sudden bursts of eloquence, and the brilliant 
 train of thought, and rich display of metaphor, which marked 
 his public speeches and even his private conversation, cer 
 tainly excelled all men of my acquaintance. But notwith 
 standing this modification, I can make no essential abatement 
 from the general statement expressive of my admiration of 
 Buckminster s genius. He, indeed, furnished my standard 
 of genius ; for his was a genius pure and elevated, steady 
 and uniform in its movements, exempt from the depressions 
 of morbid sensibility and the erratic flights of spasmodic 
 action." 
 
 Those pursuits which were entirely voluntary, discon 
 nected with the wide field of duty, the little garden cf 
 delight reserved for his leisure hours, if he may be 
 said to have had any leisure hours, were the study of 
 the ancient classics, particularly the Greek and Latin 
 poets. In this connection I cannot refuse myself the 
 pleasure of introducing, although it is somewhat out of 
 place, the description of his translation of a passage of 
 Homer when he was only thirteen years old. 
 
 " I remember, in particular," says the friend just referred 
 to, " his admirable reading and translation of a long passage 
 
 38* 
 
450 CHARACTER OF fclS SERMONS. 
 
 in the Iliad of Homer. He read the Greek as if it had been 
 his vernacular language, with ease, pliancy, and expressive 
 ness, and his translation was at once free and accurate, neat 
 and comprehensive, perspicuous and elegant. Indeed, the 
 very soul of the poet seemed to be infused into the beautiful 
 and expressive language of the translator. I had never 
 heard Homer so read and so translated, and the admiration 
 felt by me was evidently felt by all present." 
 
 Here, perhaps, some few remarks maybe appropriate 
 upon the sermons, which now remain as the only evi 
 dence of the character and genius which, by the consent 
 of all who knew him, have been ascribed to Mr. Buck- 
 minster. His active ministry, excluding the time he 
 passed in Europe, amounted to six years. In that time, 
 he wrote about two hundred and forty sermons. It may, 
 in truth, be said that it is not what one accomplishes in 
 life, but what one is, which constitutes greatness ; some 
 thing there is in the character which outruns all the per 
 formance. Campbell lived to old age, and wrote a great 
 number of books ; but his Hope, his Gertrude of Wyo 
 ming, and his deathless songs alone, will tell to future 
 ages that Campbell lived. Goethe said to Eckermann, 
 " Half a million of my own money, the fortune I inher 
 ited, my salary, and the large income derived from my 
 writings for fifty years, have been expended to make me 
 what I now am." Of the sermons in question, it has 
 been well said that none of them seem to be the result 
 of any extraordinary effort, like the grand sermons of 
 Robert Hall, or some of the splendid performances of 
 Dr. Channing ; " but they are rather the usual and 
 easy production of a mind, whose ordinary movements 
 were high and beautiful, and which left its own impress 
 of genius upon all its works." They are character 
 
CHAEM OF HIS ENUNCIATION. 451 
 
 passed into thought, " earnest feeling, steeped in that 
 beauty which emanates from genius inspired by faith." 
 No one of the sermons, therefore, surpasses very much 
 the others. They are the ordinary expression of his 
 usual train of thought. Of the sermons which remain 
 unpublished, there is scarcely one which does not contain 
 passages of eminent beauty and power. The efforts of 
 such a mind cannot be measured. The diurnal rule of 
 such a life is benefaction. 
 
 In speaking of his sermons, also, the peculiar charm 
 and power of his oratory should never be omitted. 
 " The impression they made depended, in no small de 
 gree, upon the distinctness of articulation, the propriety 
 of pronunciation, the melody of intonation, the power of 
 emphasis and expression, together with the perfect sym 
 metry of action and completeness of enunciation." The 
 remarks of a classmate * are here quoted in proof of the 
 power and charm of his reading. 
 
 " At the close of the meeting of a Composition Club, 
 where he had been the reader of the anonymous pieces 
 drawn from the secret box, it was remarked, When Buck- 
 minster reads, all the compositions are good. No one, as 
 it seemed to me, could read like him, and give to every letter 
 its full power, to every syllable its distinct weight, to every 
 word its just emphasis and appropriate modulation, to every 
 phrase and sentence their precise meaning, their complete 
 and expressive import. His excellent reading was, indeed, 
 the foundation of his enchanting eloquence, and his eloquent 
 delivery gave the crowning glory to his compositions. Were 
 you now to go about among the elderly members of the 
 Brattle Street congregation, and ask them what they think 
 
 * Rev. Dr. Bates. 
 
452 GRACE AND BEAUTY OF 
 
 of Mr. Buckminster s published sermons, they would, I think, 
 tell you, that, excellent as they consider these discourses, 
 they are altogether inferior to many which they heard him 
 preach. They might not be aware of the cause of this 
 inferiority ; but to the philosophic mind, accustomed to ana 
 lyze, that cause must be obvious at once. It is found in 
 his delivery, his excellent reading, combined with the 
 beauty of his person and his appropriate action, in the 
 various qualities which, united, go to form complete ele 
 gance and constitute a perfect orator. Such truly was 
 Buckminster. His enunciation and expression, his brilliant 
 eye, the mingled sweetness and strength, solemnity and 
 cheerfulness, intelligence and pathos, which continually per 
 vaded and animated his whole countenance while speaking, 
 gave to his discourses more than half their charm, and en 
 abled him to exert an absolute control over the feelings of 
 his audience. 
 
 " If it were proper to apply the term beauty in describing 
 the personal appearance of any man, I should say, that no 
 man ever possessed in a higher degree than he the ele 
 ments of this quality. And the influence which this had 
 on his popularity as a public speaker, and even as a preach 
 er, was, as I have intimated, by no means unimportant. It 
 ought not therefore to be omitted, in an attempt to delineate 
 his character as an orator. As he stood in the pulpit and 
 delivered his message, you could discover no defect in form 
 or manner, in attitude or movement, in utterance or ex 
 pression ; all was symmetry, propriety, elegance. He was 
 indeed a model as a pulpit orator, and his personal charm 
 and eloquence of manner forcibly illustrated to my mind 
 by positive example the wisdom of that negative injunc 
 tion of the Levitical law, No man that hath a blemish of 
 the seed of Aaron the priest shall come nigh to offer the 
 offerings of the Lord. " 
 
HIS APPEARANCE IN THE PULPIT. 453 
 
 Few are living who can remember his appearance 
 in the pulpit. Its chief characteristic was that of deep 
 ly felt, calm, but fervent devotion. His prayers, of 
 which a large number remain among his papers, in the 
 earliest part of his ministry, were written and com 
 mitted to memory. They are marked by simplicity 
 and appropriate Scripture language. They express 
 the wants, the longings, the contrition, the aspiration, 
 and the gratitude of deeply experienced human hearts. 
 His object in writing his prayers seems to have been 
 to make them the true devotion of the soul, the ex 
 pression of the intellect as well as the heart. They 
 were uttered with a calm, unimpassioned fervor, which 
 contrasted with the animated and exhilarating tone of 
 the sermon. The music of the hymn, as it came from 
 his " melodious voice," w^as felt in newer and deeper 
 meanings imparted to every sentiment, opening to the 
 hearer a new sense in the ear and in the soul. 
 
 Of the sermons which have been published, it is but 
 just to regard them as the compositions of early life, 
 called forth by the ordinary occasions of every passing 
 week. Had he lived, probably not one of the sermons, 
 as now printed, would have been given to the press. 
 He steadily resisted all applications to print his sermons 
 during his life, only two having been yielded to the 
 requests of the hearers, those on the deaths of Gov 
 ernor Sullivan and Rev. William Emerson. It was 
 his habit to write more than once on the same subject. 
 Sermons written in 1804 were rewritten in 1808 ; and 
 as his mind expanded, and the same theme was clothed 
 with thoughts of greater depth and power, he would 
 have subjected them to a severe revisal, or he would 
 have enriched them with passages of greater energy and 
 
454 LAST LETTER TO HIS FATHER. 
 
 beauty, as his own rnind became enriched with inward 
 illumination or with the acquisitions of time. 
 
 It has been already mentioned, that the cares of his 
 ministry increased in great disproportion to the increase 
 of his strength. After his appointment to the lecture 
 ship at Cambridge, he redoubled his exertions, and 
 began, as has been mentioned, to study another language. 
 This, with the kindred subjects to which it led, inter 
 ested him so deeply as to deprive him of sleep ; but to 
 his friends he had never appeared more brilliant, more 
 equal to every duty, more animated and efficient, than 
 immediately before his last illness. The seizure was 
 as unexpected as it was sudden. The last letter he 
 ever wrote to his father follows. It seems to have 
 been elicited by anxiety respecting the speculations of 
 one of his family, and it mentions cursorily the un 
 usual lassitude which he felt at the approach of warm 
 
 weather. 
 
 " April 23d, 1812. 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER, I have just seen a letter from , 
 
 the reading of which has affected me with the most gloomy 
 thoughts. She is now experiencing something of what I 
 have myself felt in former years, the unhappiness of see 
 ing her parent cast down and troubled with the thought that 
 his children are given up to believe a lie ; while Chris 
 tianity is continually presented to her, either in a form which 
 she does not understand, or which, as far as she does un 
 derstand it, seems unworthy of the reception of a rational 
 creature, or of the authority of a holy and beneficent Father. 
 From some expressions in her letter, I began to be afraid 
 that her faith in the divine origin of the Gospel was shaken, 
 and that, having it continually presented to her mind in the 
 revolting forms of Calvinism, she was willing to wish, that, 
 if such representations of Christianity were a just picture 
 
LAST LETTER TO HIS FATHER. 455 
 
 of what should be a most beneficent religion, she would 
 be glad to find it not true. Such a result, though I know 
 it is by no means uncommon, I should most earnestly depre 
 cate in any one of my relations. I hope she will have more 
 strength of mind than to fall into such a state of feeling, 
 and that God will enable her to know the truth and value 
 of the revelation of his Son Jesus Christ, though she may 
 find it difficult to conceive of doctrines which others repre 
 sent as its essential principles. 
 
 "I know, my dear Sir, that you would see with anguish 
 her mind so perplexed by the views of Calvinistic Chris 
 tianity as to become indifferent to the news of eternal life 
 by Jesus Christ, which. I hope, will never cease to be the 
 object of her dearest love and gratitude, and that she will 
 go to the Father by him who has promised to guide us into 
 all necessary truth. 
 
 " It is my misfortune to be encompassed with a cloud 
 of business, more, I fear, than I can properly attend to, with 
 justice to myself or my parishioners. But while my health 
 lasts, I dare not refuse any exertion by which we may hope 
 to diffuse the blessing of the truth, or to benefit our fellow- 
 men. We are now forming a society for the improvement 
 of seamen. Is it not worthy attention in every respect ? 
 1 am persuaded that no class of persons are more suscep 
 tible of deep and permanent religious impressions than 
 those who follow the sea. 
 
 " I do not write often, because my sister supplies all my 
 deficiencies in that respect. If I felt that my silence was 
 the consequence of any diminution of interest or affection 
 for you or yours, I should be very unhappy. My health 
 has been very good through the winter, but I have found 
 myself uncommonly sensible to the relaxing approach of 
 warm weather. I do not contemplate any journey before 
 the middle of June, when I hope to see you in your 
 own home. Your dear son, 
 
 " J. S. B." 
 
456 ELECTION WEEK IN BOSTON. 
 
 Thus closed the correspondence between father and 
 son. That frail health, which he thought it his duty 
 not to spare, was already deeply undermined, and the 
 words with which he closed his letter had a prophetic 
 meaning. He did meet his father before the middle of 
 June, in that father s own home, where, we may surely 
 believe, they were never separated again. 
 
 Soon after the date of that letter, came on the week, 
 the so-called election week in Boston, so crowded 
 with business, with societies, with the duties of the pres 
 ent, and the hopes of the future ; when the city throngs 
 with strangers, and the moments that are not given to 
 exciting occupations and wearying business are ab 
 sorbed by the duties of hospitality, the claims of old 
 friendships, and the pleasures of society. My brother 
 entered with keen enjoyment into all the various in 
 terests of the week. He was an efficient member, or an 
 acting officer, of nearly all the societies of the time, 
 less numerous, indeed, than at present, but still enough 
 to absorb all his leisure, and he was engaged to preach 
 the sermon before the Society for the Promotion of 
 Christian Knowledge, Piety, and Charity, on May 26th. 
 The election sermon was on Wednesday, and the Con 
 vention, in which he took the warmest interest, was on 
 the Thursday following. His ever-watchful sister ob 
 served, that, while writing the sermon for the above- 
 mentioned society, he was oppressed by an unusual 
 languor, and the sermon, although selected for publica 
 tion, bears evidence of it. An extract from a letter of 
 this date shows how the labors of the week had crowded 
 upon him. 
 
 ~7 Joseph sat up nearly all night, writing his sermon to 
 
LAST LABORS. 457 
 
 preach before the society. He has been so engaged with va 
 rious societies, and with company staying in the house, that 
 he has had no time. After all, the gentlemen called for him 
 when he was writing the last page. He went off without 
 his gown. In his hurry, he forgot to put it on. I did not 
 perceive it for some time, and then sent it after him, which 
 made me too late," etc. 
 
 This forgetting the gown was no proof that his memo 
 ry was failing ; but, it not being the Sabbath, he did 
 not think of the usual costume of the pulpit. 
 
 Thus he went on, no pause, no rest, in the 
 exercise of a benevolence never surpassed, an ardor 
 for the good of others rarely equalled. There was 
 no voice to warn, there was no hand to hold him 
 back. Others were engaged with him ; but he, with his 
 thrilling voice, his ardent eye, and his intrepid and 
 buoyant spirit, urged them on. Some few looked on 
 with trembling interest, knowing the fatal consequences 
 of over-exerting the sensitive brain ; but he had sur 
 vived many such periods of severe labor, and why might 
 he not pass uninjured through this one ? 
 
 The ruin came all at once, with instantaneous shock. 
 His early prayer was answered. There was no inter 
 val between his active career and his shattered frame. 
 At once, as though stricken on sunken rocks, in the 
 calm, blue sea, and amidst the cloudless heaven, his 
 noble intellect became a wreck. The silver cord en 
 dured no loosening from its hold, it snapped asunder, 
 and was gone ! 
 
 It should certainly be cause of deep gratitude that he 
 
 was cut down at once, without the slow decay, without 
 
 the loss of one of those brilliant and fascinating qualities 
 
 that so won the love of his contemporaries. That he 
 
 39 
 
458 DEATH OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 did not live to become the sepulchre of his dead intel 
 lect, demands the devout gratitude of all who knew him. 
 
 From the records of an interleaved register, I am able 
 to give some account of the employment of the few days 
 before the attack of his last, fatal illness. On the 26th 
 of May, he preached the sermon already mentioned, and 
 attended a funeral in the afternoon. On the 27th, elec 
 tion day, the funerals of two children are recorded. On 
 the evening of the 28th, after attending the convention 
 of ministers, he performed the ceremony of marriage 
 for two couples, apparently at his own house. On Sun 
 day, he repeated, in his own pulpit, with alterations, 
 the sermon prepared for the society already mentioned, 
 dividing it into two sermons, for morning and afternoon. 
 In the evening, he received the usual visitors in his study. 
 On Monday afternoon, he met with the association 
 of ministers ; and we may easily suppose it was a day of 
 more than his usual exhaustion and lassitude, after the 
 labors of the week and of the Sabbath. On Tuesday 
 evening, June 2d, he met the committee of the parish 
 on parish business, and afterwards attended, and took 
 part, as was always a delight to him, with his musical 
 society. On Wednesday, he had so violent an access 
 .of his disorder as completely to prostrate his physical 
 powers, and to deprive him of his reason, which re 
 turned only at momentary intervals during the seven days 
 that the struggle between life and death continued. On 
 Tuesday, June 9th, he expired, with a serene and bliss 
 ful expression of countenance, that seemed already to 
 foreshadow the higher world for which the departing 
 spirit was winged. 
 
 During the whole of his short illness, his bed was 
 surrounded, and the apartments of the house thronged, 
 
DEATH OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER. 459 
 
 with anxious friends, lingering, with fond regret, over 
 the insensible form from which genius, but not beauty, 
 had departed ; listening, with breathless attention, to 
 catch the inarticulate sounds, in which the more ex 
 perienced ear of the physician detected the words of 
 prayer. Friends and strangers, the merchants, as they 
 met on change, and all, as they paused from their daily 
 toil, whispered to each other words of hope or fear ; 
 and a public and fearful calamity seemed to hang over 
 the town. 
 
 It is delightful to recollect that the last rational ex 
 ercise of his mind, the last conscious act of his life, 
 was joining in the devotional music of the choir of his 
 church. It was no doubt the very moment in which he 
 would wish to die, as he has said, in one of his earliest 
 letters, u in the swelling notes of celestial praise, he 
 could wish to dissolve into sound." In the music in 
 which he delighted, it seemed, indeed, as though de 
 parted spirits came to announce and to bear testimony 
 to a future union. The close of his life, so in unison 
 with its whole aim, has added a sweetness to his memo 
 ry that embalms it for ever. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DOMESTIC EVENTS RELATING TO DR. BUCKMINSTER. JOUR 
 NEY TO CONNECTICUT. CHEERFULNESS AND UNINTER 
 RUPTED HEALTH FOR FOUR YEARS. HIS LAST ILLNESS, 
 
 AND DEATH. INTERMENT. MONUMENT. FUNERAL 
 
 SERVICES AT PORTSMOUTH AND BOSTON. REINTERMENT 
 
 AND MONUMENT OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 As we draw towards the close of the life of 
 Dr. Buckminster, I would fain record that the 
 cheerfulness and apparent health which he enjoyed in 
 1808, and the three succeeding years, had suffered no 
 interruption. He had been, through life, a man of much 
 domestic grief. The sensibility of his heart had been 
 often wrung by the loss of children at the age when they 
 are the most lovely and attractive, when the opening 
 faculties awaken the most tender interest in the parent, 
 and the sorrow occasioned by their loss is as acu e, 
 though not perhaps as enduring, as when they die at a 
 later age. At the loss of his second wife, in 1805, 
 whom he loved with a passion fond almost to idolatry, 
 those who witnessed the agony of his grief trembled, 
 lest his reason or his life should become the sacrifice to 
 an attachment to which the energy of his soul and the 
 sensibility of his heart were wholly given. 
 
 In 1808, and in the three succeeding years, he had 
 recovered from the desolating effect of this and other 
 
VISIT TO NEW HAVEN. 461. 
 
 losses. His daughter remarks, in a letter found in the 
 preceding pages, that she had never known him in bet 
 ter health and spirits. His daughters were now old 
 enough to be to their father, not only domestic assist 
 ants, but companions and friends ; and the more youth 
 ful society that was drawn to the parsonage, by finding 
 companions of their own age there, was a great acces 
 sion of pleasure and of cheerful conversation to Dr. 
 Buckminster himself. My brother, also, when he came 
 from Boston to visit his family, was usually accompa 
 nied by one of his young friends, which added much to 
 the cheerfulness of the party assembled in what was 
 called, par eminence, " the little parlour." 
 
 In the summer of 1808, he allowed himself the rec 
 reation of a journey to the beloved scenes of his youth. 
 As he travelled with his own horse and chaise, arid a 
 daughter for a companion, it was a journey of formi 
 dable length. He visited New Haven, at the season 
 of Commencement, and enjoyed, for the last time, the 
 renewal of old associations, and the delightful remi 
 niscences of college days. It was true that younger 
 classes had risen up "which knew not Joseph," yet it 
 was a singular and fortunate circumstance, that a large 
 number of the class of 1770 had, like him, gone up to 
 visit their JUma, Mater, and others of the classes to 
 whom he had been tutor, so that the renewal of old as 
 sociations was as complete and delightful as possible. 
 
 In 1809, he was twice invited to preach occasional 
 sermons, at the ordination of Rev. Mr. Thurston, at 
 Manchester, N. H., and before the Female Charitable 
 Society of Newburyport. Both of the sermons were 
 requested for the press, and they are among the most 
 vigorous and interesting of his productions. 
 39* 
 
462 FAMILY OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 It was a peculiar cause of anxiety to Dr. Buckmin- 
 ster, that the solitary situation of his son, (obliged to 
 make the parsonage-house his residence,) and his singular 
 liability to illness, compelled the necessity of dividing 
 his family, and the sacrifice of the society of his eldest 
 daughter. The second was, unfortunately, at that time, 
 too much of an invalid to be much from under the pa 
 rental roof, and the others were all too young to leave 
 home, except under the care of the elder sisters. But, 
 as their brother s house was a pleasant residence, and 
 Boston presented so much rarer advantages of education 
 for the younger children, one or two were constantly 
 with their brother, and away from home. To a man 
 so tender in his domestic affections, these blanks in the 
 family circle were peculiarly painful. 
 
 At the time of which I speak, Dr. Buckminster s ap 
 pearance was that of a person in the full vigor of life. 
 In 1808, he was fifty-seven years old. His remarkably 
 striking form was unbent and unworn. The raven black 
 of his hair was just beginning to be streaked with gray, 
 and the temples were fringed with silver. He was 
 often, at this period of his life, while he was a widower, 
 solicited to join social parties, where his daughters were 
 invited, and his presence, while it checked all undue 
 mirth, was thought to add much to the cheerfulness of 
 the party. But the young were not those with whom he 
 could the most readily find sympathy, and, while his 
 house was filled with them, he often, no doubt, felt 
 doubly alone. 
 
 His salary had never been more than a very moderate 
 support for his large family ; money, however, for any 
 purposes but those of beneficence, and for the education 
 of his children, had little value in his eyes. The ab- 
 
AN INTERVAL OF HAPPINESS. 463 
 
 sence of all worldliness is perhaps a defect, for children 
 should be taught the value of money sufficiently to de 
 sire to avoid the absolute want of it. After his marriage, 
 in the summer of 1810, he left the parsonage-house and 
 removed to a more commodious dwelling, the property 
 of his wife. His marriage placed him beyond all anx 
 iety with regard to pecuniary concerns. It is due to 
 his delicate sense of justice to state, that the property 
 which came into his possession by his last marriage 
 was returned immediately by bequest. His will, exe 
 cuted the day after the solemnization of his marriage, is 
 in these words : 
 
 " Secondly. To my beloved wife Abigail, I return, by 
 bequest, all that estate, real and personal, or mixed, of 
 which she was possessed (when she became my wife) by 
 the will of her late husband, Colonel Eliphalet Ladd ; to be 
 not only for her use during her life, but to be at her dispos 
 al, and to her heirs and assigns for ever, as completely as 
 if no connection had taken place between us ; and as to 
 the little property which I possess, separate from that which 
 fell into my hands through her courtesy and confidence, it is 
 my will, that my said beloved wife should have the income 
 of it during her continuing my widow, if she chooses to re 
 tain it." 
 
 He had now enjoyed uninterrupted health and spirits 
 for more than four years. He seemed to have taken 
 a new lease of life, and his friends saw no reason why 
 he might not attain to the age of the most long-lived of 
 his ancestors ; but, as was mentioned in the last chap 
 ter, at the close of the year 1811, those of his family 
 who were most intimate with the peculiarities of his con 
 stitution, saw, with anguish, that a nameless depression, 
 an apparently causeless anxiety, was beginning to gather 
 
464 
 
 RECURRENCE OF DEPRESSION. 
 
 in dark clouds over his mind. Physical disease, which 
 baffled the sagacity of science, no doubt affected him ; 
 but it assumed the outward form of mental depression, 
 nervous distress, and agitation. In May, 1812, he be 
 came much more ill, and change of scene amid the health 
 ful influences of nature was proposed, and a journey to 
 the western part of New York was resolved upon, which 
 was to begin early in June. 
 
 At this time his illness did not take the usual form of 
 morbid and exaggerated conscientiousness ; it was a gen 
 eral distrust of himself, his power of sustaining his min 
 istry, and a fear lest he should be the cause of unhap pi- 
 ness to others. He continued to perform the public 
 services of his church on the Sabbath, and to receive 
 his friends, and those who were unacquainted with his 
 malady perceived no cause for uneasiness. 
 
 The last Sabbath in May, he felt a strong persuasion 
 that he should never again address his people. As his 
 journey was to be commenced on Tuesday, and the Sab 
 bath was the last day of the month, the communion was 
 celebrated on that day, that he might enjoy once more 
 with his beloved church that last act of affection and 
 devotion to his Divine Master. His services were un 
 usually fervent and pathetic, and he seemed to feel a pro 
 phetic foreboding that it was the last time his voice would 
 ever be heard from that table of his Lord. He did not 
 go out in the afternoon, and the succeeding night was one 
 of distress and agitation. His daughter and his friend, 
 Rev. Mr. Parker, watched with him through the night. 
 It was spent by him in fervent prayers, interrupted at in 
 tervals by bursts of uncontrollable emotion. It was the 
 night preceding the first of June, and the unusual warmth 
 of the season allowed all the windows to be open. The 
 
LAST JOURNEY. 465 
 
 garden beneath the windows, hushed in the sweet re 
 pose of moonlight, was all white with the full blossom of 
 fruit trees, whose fragrance ascended upon the night- 
 breeze to the watchers by that beloved but afflicted spirit. 
 How striking was the contrast between the joyful repose 
 of nature and the jarring discords of the human soul ; 
 but never, during any of the wild conflicts of emotion, 
 did he lose for a moment the gentle sweetness of his 
 manners, or a tender devotion to the comfort of others. 
 Arrangements had been made for his departure on a 
 journey the next morning as far as the Saratoga Springs ; 
 and, upon his return, he would visit his son and daughter 
 in Boston. He was to be accompanied by his wife and a 
 gentleman of middle age, who was a member of his church, 
 also by a young man, at that" time a student of divinity. 
 His young friend, the Rev. Mr. Parker, had so endeared 
 himself to Dr. Buckminster by the warmth of his sym 
 pathy, that the sufferer could not bear to part with him ; 
 and the latter was persuaded to accompany him a part of 
 the way on his journey. The prayer that he offered in 
 his family the morning of his departure was so touching 
 in its pathetic earnestness, that it melted his young chil 
 dren to tears. Observing them weeping, he said, with 
 the most cheerful smile, as he stepped into the carriage, 
 " Be not anxious, all will be well ! " It was an in 
 expressible consolation to them, thus orphaned in their 
 youth, to remember that the last kind words that fell 
 from his lips were those of encouragement and peace. 
 
 The following notices of the remaining days of Dr. 
 Buckminster s life are derived from the journal sent to 
 his daughter by the young student who accompanied 
 him on his journey. The party left Portsmouth on the 
 
466 LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 
 
 first or second day of June. The season was more en 
 chanting than can be imagined ; the air was loaded with 
 the fragrance of blossoming trees ; the tender grass was 
 of an emerald green ; the temperature balmy as the air 
 of Paradise ; and a spirit of beauty seemed to move over 
 the earth to cure all sadness but despair. 
 
 " June 2d. After proceeding a short distance, the con 
 versation turned upon the goodness of God, as displayed in 
 the beauty of nature. Mr. Parker observed, that all nature 
 appeared to smile in praise of the Creator. Yes, replied 
 Dr. Buckminster, and tears filled his eyes, i we are travelling 
 amidst the loveliest works of God. Mr. Parker said it was 
 a wise and benevolent dispensation of Heaven, that the ac- 
 ceptableness of our actions did not depend on a high excita 
 tion of the affections and feelings ; but a course of devout 
 action might be continued when the ardor of feeling that 
 prompted it had subsided ; for such was the limitation of our 
 nature, that we could neither long endure keen elevation nor 
 always possess uniform cheerful assurance ; and if the ar 
 dor of feeling were requisite to the right performance of ac 
 tions, we should not be able, when it was in exercise, to do 
 properly the business of life. But, as we are constituted, 
 having begun a series of good actions from right principle, 
 we may continue them from habit, after the vividness of 
 emotion has subsided. Dr. Buckminster smiled ; 1 1 think, 
 he said, that you have given us a true and philosophical 
 statement of the subject. 
 
 " In the afternoon, the conversation turned upon the Hop- 
 kinsian system. The Dr. asked me if I had read a certain 
 treatise upon the points of difference between Hopkins and 
 Calvin, adding, that he had lately been reading it. Upon my 
 observing that the difference between Hopkinsians and rigid 
 Calvinists appeared to be merely nominal, he replied, 
 1 There is a difference. The former hold, that, if it were 
 
LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 467 
 
 for the glory of God, a soul must be willing to be eternally 
 miserable ; which implies, that the believer must be willing 
 to be in a state that would for ever deprive him of the pres 
 ence of God, and where his name was blasphemed. Hop- 
 kinsians also ascribe the origin of evil to God, an assertion 
 that Calvinists reject. 
 
 " The next day, speaking of the origin of writing, I ob 
 served that the law of the ten commandments was said to be 
 written by the finger of God. The Dr. answered, that 
 4 this, like many other passages of the Scriptures, must be 
 taken figuratively ; they were probably written by Moses. 
 
 " His friend, Mr. Parker, quitted the party at Newburyport 
 to return to Portsmouth. In attempting to give him a message 
 for his children, Dr. Buckminster s emotion was so great that 
 he desisted from the attempt. After Mr. Parker left him, 
 his dejection increased, and his mind seemed clouded with a 
 settled gloom. Passing through Chelmsford, he saw some 
 children at play by the school-house, and burst into involun 
 tary tears. Upon inquiring the cause of this sudden expres 
 sion of sensibility, he said, they brought to his mind his 
 own children, the sorrow they were destined to suffer, and 
 their inability, from their youth and retired education, to 
 contend with the difficulties of life. After his emotion had 
 subsided, he conversed upon the scenes of his early life, 
 of his collegiate pursuits, and the advantages of the exact 
 sciences in strengthening the mind, and inducing habits of 
 correct reasoning." 
 
 At Newburyport, he had met his brother and sister, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Tappan, returning from Boston. He ex 
 pressed to his sister, more fully than he had to his chil 
 dren, his entire conviction that the journey would be 
 of no avail ; he had undertaken it at the desire of 
 friends, and would go on, but he felt a firm persuasion 
 in his own mind that he never should return to Ports 
 mouth. 
 
468 LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 
 
 In that distressing night previous to his leaving home, 
 the physician had thought proper to take a quantity of 
 blood from the arm. On the fourth day of the journey, 
 the wounded vein began to inflame, and the whole arm, 
 probably irritated by travelling, swelled, and became ex 
 tremely painful. 
 
 " June 5/.A. At Townsend, the patient walked some dis 
 tance to observe a lovely and picturesque view. The sun 
 was just setting, and the whole air was perfumed with 
 blossoms. He was so much exhilarated with this walk, that 
 he forgot the fatigues of the ride, and the evening was spent 
 cheerfully. The ride from Townsend to Keene, through an 
 undulating and pleasing country, exhilarated his spirits, and, 
 notwithstanding the painful state of his arm, he enjoyed ev 
 ery incident of the journey. At Jaffrey, this day, June 5th, 
 he wrote the last letter he ever penned to his children. 
 [In consequence of the state of his arm, the writing is al 
 most illegible.] 
 
 " June 6th. At Keene, the Dr. entered into an animated po 
 litical discussion with a Democrat, who asserted that Judge 
 Marshall had, in a certain case, exercised powers that were 
 unconstitutional. The Dr. confined himself to a defence of 
 Judge Marshall, and vindicated the powers of the judiciary, 
 as the great bulwark of the Constitution, with great energy, 
 power, and perspicuity of thought. At Walpole, where we 
 dined, he met one who had been his pupil when he was tu 
 tor at Yale College. This meeting agitated him greatly, 
 and his nervous spasms returned with violence. 
 
 " His arm was now swelled to an alarming degree ; he 
 could no, longer ascend nor descend the steps of the car 
 riage without assistance. The ride, however, from Walpole 
 to Putney, exhilarated his spirits, and he said, in reference to 
 the varying and undulating character of the ground, with 
 the shadows flitting over it, that it bore a striking resem- 
 
LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 469 
 
 blance to the light and shade, the changing color, of our 
 life. At Putney, there was a Justice s cause being argued 
 at the inn where we rested, in which Dr. Buckminster took 
 a strong interest, and attended to the close of the sitting. 
 
 " June 1th. The next day being the Sabbath, it was spent 
 in the beautiful little village of Putney. Our beloved pa 
 tient was calm, but extremely dejected. He was able, how 
 ever, to read the Scriptures, and pray in the family ; after 
 which, the rest of the party attended church. In the after 
 noon, one of the party stating some objections to some passa 
 ges of Scripture, he smiled, and observed, mildly, that the 
 gentleman was inclining to Socinianism. During the night, 
 he was extremely ill, and his arm so much swelled that he 
 could not move it without assistance. 
 
 " On Monday, June 8th, two physicians were called in at 
 Brattleborough, but they prescribed only for the swelled 
 arm. Notwithstanding the illness of their patient, the party 
 proceeded that day to Whitney s in Marlborough. Here, 
 while his wife took some repose, he sat by the window with 
 a book in his hand ; he spent the afternoon in this position, 
 in prayer, and repeating parts of the Psalms. Before he 
 retired, he requested one of the party to pray, with as much 
 humility and resignation as possible." 
 
 Since the night at Putney, Dr. Buckminster seems 
 to have been aware of his approaching dissolution, al 
 though, from the fear of distressing his wife and retard 
 ing the journey of his friends, he consented to go on, 
 without expressing his own convictions of his extreme 
 illness. His nights were usually without sleep, and spent 
 in prayer. 
 
 " Tuesday, June 9th. We left Whitney s, and rode to 
 Hamilton s tavern to breakfast. Here our patient immedi- 
 40 
 
470 LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 
 
 ately lay down with extreme pain in the shoulder and 
 breast ; afterwards, we continued the journey to Berchard s 
 inn, to dine. Here a young lady, the daughter of the host, 
 was wholly devoted to his comfort. Grateful for every 
 kindness, he took leave of her with a tenderness and solem 
 nity that affected every one. This afternoon, we observed 
 a striking change in his appearance ; although he continued 
 to manifest the sweetest composure and an angelic patience, 
 and not a complaint escaped him, yet his countenance was 
 pale and sunken. He spoke little, but smiled frequently. 
 He seemed to speak with effort, and the natural tone of his 
 voice was gone. 
 
 " In the afternoon, we passed a little road-side cottage, 
 where we stopped a moment, and asked for a glass of water 
 from a woman, who sat by the loom, weaving. She was 
 one of those tender and feeling natures that are habitually 
 prompted to deeds of mercy and kindness by their own 
 hearts. Observing the pale and suffering countenance with 
 in the carriage, as soon as it had passed she felt constrained 
 to follow it. She felt there was death in the carriage, and 
 she could not pursue her labors at the loom. Leaving her 
 work, she followed on to the lonely and sequestered inn 
 where the travellers had stopped for the night, and, by 
 her presence of mind, her disinterested services, her calm 
 and trusting piety, she proved an infinite comfort to the 
 afflicted wife of the suffering patient. In this lonely inn, 
 we were visited by a tremendous storm. During this con 
 flict of the elements, Dr. Buckminster was extremely agitat 
 ed. He sat supported in a chair, his voice feeble and hol 
 low, and uttered with touching pathos prayers for his friends 
 and himself, humble confessions and petitions for the mercy 
 of God. From this time his gloom wholly subsided. He 
 was perfectly aware that his death was near. He remained 
 perfectly tranquil, most of the time silent, but uttering oc 
 casionally whispered expressions of submission, faith, and 
 hope in the mercy of God." 
 
THE FATHER AND THE SON. 471 
 
 [Some hours later, on the same evening, a thunder 
 storm was felt with terrific violence in Boston. Pros 
 trate with fever of the brain, in the fierce contention of 
 life with death, lay the beloved son upon a couch oppo 
 site the windows, where the vivid flashes of lightning 
 illuminated the whole room, and the sunken and pallid 
 countenance, around which, in still, repressed agony, 
 the friends were gathered. For many hours, no ray of 
 reason had illumined those closed eyes ; but now, when 
 one of his sisters arrived from Portsmouth, he opened 
 his eyes, looked upon her, and smiled : this smile, al 
 ways so enchanting, was given to her as a treasure for 
 the memory of after life. 
 
 The thunder-storm passed away, the clouds rolled 
 off, and the tranquil stars looked down into that cham 
 ber. There, too, the anguish and the agony had passed 
 away, and that pale countenance lay in the inexpressibly 
 sweet repose of death.] 
 
 The night of the storm was passed by the little afflict 
 ed company of travellers, with their dying friend, in 
 the retired and solitary inn of the village of Reedsbor- 
 ough. He knew that he was dying, but his companions 
 were not aware of his extreme illness, for the physician, 
 who dwelt at the distance of nine miles, was not sent 
 for that evening. Indeed, they all retired to rest, and 
 Mrs. Buckminster, having been much fatigued and de 
 prived of sleep, was persuaded by her husband to retire 
 for the night to another room. Mr. Bowles, the eldest 
 of the gentlemen, was accommodated with a bed in the 
 same room with their patient. The night was spent 
 by him in prayer, but, with his habitual regard to the 
 feelings of others, he repeatedly said to Mr. Bowles, that 
 he hoped he did not speak so loud as to disturb his 
 
472 THE MYSTERIES OF DEATH. 
 
 repose. The gentleman, who had been in early life a 
 sea-captain, at length answered, that "he could remain 
 undisturbed through the roughest weather, and had often 
 slept under his preaching ; but ah, Sir," he added, " I 
 cannot sleep under such prayers as these ! " 
 
 When his wife entered his chamber the next morning, 
 he said to her, with perfect composure, " My son Joseph 
 is dead." Mrs. Buckminster, supposing that he had 
 slept and dreamed that his son was dead, although no 
 news of his illness had reached him, assured him that 
 it was a dream. " No," he replied, " I have not slept 
 nor dreamed ; he is dead ! " This incident is related 
 as received from the lips of her to whom the words were 
 spoken, and there can be no shadow of doubt of their 
 truth. 
 
 Although Dr, Buckminster proposed to rise and pro 
 ceed to Bennington, the smallest effort to move pro 
 duced faintness, and his wife, now much alarmed, sent 
 immediately for the nearest physician. He dwelt at 
 the distance of nine miles, and did not arrive till ten 
 o clock. 
 
 In the mean time, although his countenance bore all 
 the appearance of death, it was serene and tranquil. 
 All nervous distress and all anxiety had passed away, 
 and, in those last hours of his life, he enjoyed the full 
 assurance of the goodness and loving kindness of his 
 Saviour. But there was no exultation, no rapturous ex 
 pressions of the near approach of heaven. His princi 
 pal anxiety was to soothe and comfort his wife, who had 
 now become fearfully conscious that his last moment 
 was approaching. 
 
 The following paragraph is from the journal of his 
 young travelling companion : 
 
DEATH OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 473 
 
 " The physician, who had been sent for previously, now 
 entered the room. Before his arrival, Dr. Buckminster s 
 symptoms had become extremely alarming, and his friends 
 perceived with anguish that his death was fast approaching. 
 He fixed his languid eyes upon the physician, and said, 
 with some earnestness, I am in the hands of God ; all 
 means are under his control, and must depend on his bless 
 ing. I have no expectation that anything can be done for 
 me, but, for the sake of these friends, I will submit to your 
 prescriptions. The doctor proceeded to prepare some 
 medicine, and said, if it did not relieve him, tbe event 
 would be fatal. Certainly, said Dr. Buckminster, that 
 must follow. Upon a stranger entering the room, he asked, 
 eagerly, if it was a messenger from Boston, expecting, no 
 doubt, to hear his son s death confirmed. Some one present 
 asked him if he were resigned. He answered, I desire to 
 be still, and await the will of God. After a short time, 
 one of his companions asked, if he had anything to im 
 part to his absent family. Waiting some moments, he at 
 tempted to speak, but, his voice failing, he fervently pressed 
 the hand of the person, and, lifting his eyes, he seemed to 
 be in silent prayer for many moments, when his eyes closed, 
 and he gently breathed away his departing soul." 
 
 It was in less than twenty-four hours after the death of 
 the son, that his father followed him to that eternal union 
 which they both so fervently expected to enjoy. 
 
 Dr. Buckminster was interred at Bennington, with 
 appropriate funeral solemnities. The Rev. Mr. Marsh, 
 of that place, preached, upon the occasion, from the 
 words, u I will not leave you comfortless ; I will come 
 unto you." 
 
 On Friday, the 19th of June, his bereaved church 
 and congregation, in Portsmouth, assembled to pay a 
 tribute of respect to his memory. The pulpit and the 
 40* 
 
474 FUNERAL SERVICES AT PORTSMOUTH AND BOSTON. 
 
 galleries were hung with black, and an impressive dis 
 course was pronounced by Mr. Parker, of the South 
 Church, from Acts xx. 24, " But none of these 
 move me," &c. A writer of the time remarks, that 
 u the largest and most respectable audience that had 
 ever been seen in that ancient town was present." 
 
 The stone that was placed over the grave of Dr. 
 Buckminster, in Bennington, Vermont, bears the follow 
 ing inscription, written, except the poetry, by his friend 
 and brother in the ministry, Rev. D. Dana, D. D., of 
 Newburyport : 
 
 " In memory of Rev. Joseph Buckminster, D. D., pastor 
 of a church in Portsmouth, N. H., who died suddenly in 
 this vicinity, while on a journey for his health, June 10th, 
 1812, aged 61. 
 
 " He was a fervent and devoted Christian, an eloquent 
 and evangelical preacher, a faithful and indefatigable pastor, 
 an affectionate son, brother, husband, father, and friend. 
 His bereaved people have erected this memorial of his emi 
 nent worth and of their tender and respectful grief. 
 
 " O ever honored, ever dear, adieu ! 
 
 How many tender names are lost in you ! 
 Keep safe, O tomb, thy precious, sacred trust, 
 Till life divine awake this sleeping dust ! " 
 
 At the funeral service in Brattle Street Church, on 
 the afternoon of June 12th, in commemoration of the 
 death of their pastor, Rev. Joseph Stevens Buckmin 
 ster, Dr. Kirkland, President of Harvard College, 
 preached from Job xvi. 19, "Thou destroyest the 
 hope of man." The sermon was a touching and ap 
 propriate tribute to the memory of his friend. Dr. 
 
COMMEMORATIVE NOTICES OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. 475 
 
 Kirkland was earnestly requested to give a copy for the 
 press, but the urgent duties of his office prevented him 
 from complying with the wishes of the parish and the 
 friends of the departed. Many tributes to his memory 
 appeared in the public journals of the day, and in the 
 sermons of his brothers in the ministry. mongA others 
 were two very beautiful notices of his character, writ 
 ten with the warmth of friendship, and the exact deline 
 ation of truth, which appeared in two successive num 
 bers of the General Repository, from the pen of its 
 editor, Mr. Andrews Norton. They have been in 
 cluded in the edition of Buckminster s Works of 1839, 
 and would also have enriched the pages of this volume, 
 had it not swelled far beyond its original intention. 
 
 Twelve years after his death, the Rev. John Gorham 
 Palfrey, then the pastor of Brattle Street Church, pro 
 nounced the following beautiful eulogy upon his memory. 
 After speaking of former pastors of the church, he 
 says, 
 
 " Him I have heard and known ; and who, that has heard 
 him, has not thenceforth found religion invested in his mind 
 with a beauty unknown before ? He was, in truth, a singu 
 larly gifted man ; of a judgment discriminating, independ 
 ent, and exact ; of a fancy profuse of images of the grand 
 and lovely ; of a various and accurate learning ; of a sen 
 sibility keenly alive to the importance of truth, and to the 
 dangers and obligations of men ; of a pure and fervid zeal ; 
 of a truly heavenly spirit. He was formed to interest men 
 in religion, to win them and attach them to it. No one 
 could look on his intellectual beauty, no one could hear 
 the softest tone of his voice, without loving the spirit that 
 dwelt in the expression of bothu He spoke to solemnize 
 
476 COMMEMORATIVE NOTICES OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. 
 
 the levity of the young, and inform the wisdom of age ; 
 to shake the sinner s purpose, and to bind up, in the softest 
 balm of consolation, the wounds of the Christian heart. 
 Those of us who have heard him, with a force and feeling 
 all his own, plead the claims of our religion, describe its 
 value, and disclose its hopes, may not expect, while we live, 
 to witness anything approaching nearer to what we imagine 
 of a prophet s or an angel s inspiration. He was one of 
 those who seem appointed to the high and needful office of 
 conciliating to religion the minds of intellectual and taste 
 ful men 
 
 " Nor in regard alone to the services directly rendered 
 by him to religion was this lamented man a benefactor. 
 His mind was one of those that leave a broad impress on 
 the character of the times. The weight of his influence, 
 and the more powerful attraction of his example, gave an 
 impulse to the cause of good learning, of which we are 
 daily witnessing more and more brilliant consequences. 
 But these were not the cares the nearest to his heart. 
 Though followed by an admiration too enthusiastic for a 
 man of less singleness of mind to bear, without being led 
 astray from his appropriate work, here was the scene of his 
 favorite labors, and here he reaped the most desired reward. 
 
 Everything here reminds us of him At the table 
 
 of Christian fellowship, I meet the disciples whom he led to 
 that feast,* and his presence almost seems to be with us there. 
 Already I find encouragement and friendship in those whose 
 earliest remembered impressions of religion are associated 
 with the pathos of his melting tones, the glory of his speak 
 ing eye. I stand by death-beds, cheered by happy hopes 
 of immortality which he taught to glow, and witness the 
 Christian patience of mourners, to whom he was the minister 
 
 * See Appendix No. V. 
 
MONUMENT AT MOUNT AUBURN. 477 
 
 of that lasting peace which the world cannot give nor take 
 away. Happy servant of his God, who can leave such 
 enduring memorials of so short a life ! who, long after the 
 first burst of general distress at his early departure has 
 been hushed, survives in the virtuous purposes of manhood, 
 and the calm meditation of age ! Happy, whose epitaph is 
 recorded in the religious dedication of so many grateful 
 hearts ! There is no other distinction but is mean com 
 pared with such a glory ! And when, at last, he 
 
 meets them above, can anything be wanting to the worth of 
 his crown of rejoicing, when they remember, together, that 
 it was by his agency that God made them associates for 
 angels ? " * 
 
 With these beautiful words I close the memoir of my 
 brother, trusting that his memory may yet survive to en 
 courage and comfort many hearts. 
 
 " One other name, with power endowed, 
 
 To cheer and guide us onward as we press ; 
 One other image on the heart bestowed, 
 To dwell there, beautiful in holiness." 
 
 June 12, 1842, exactly thirty years from the day of 
 his funeral, through the surviving affection of the So 
 ciety of Brattle Street Church, his remains were re 
 moved from the tomb of Mr. Lyman, at Waltham, and 
 placed beneath a chaste and beautiful monument of white 
 marble, consecrated to his memory, in the cemetery of 
 Mount Auburn. By the arrangement of the faithful 
 memory of those who had witnessed the attachment of 
 brother and sister, she who had watched over him in 
 
 * From Rev. J. G. Palfrey s sermon, preached at the church in 
 Brattle Square, July 18, 1824. 
 
478 BROTHER AND SISTER. 
 
 life was not divided from him in the sacred repose of 
 one consecrated tomb. Their united memory is such 
 
 " As hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts. 
 His hope is treacherous only whose love dies 
 With beauty, which is varying every hour; 
 But in chaste hearts, uninfluenced by the power 
 Of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower, 
 That breathes on earth the air of Paradise." 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 THERE is some uncertainty about the original family name. 
 It appears from the records of deeds in the Suffolk office, and 
 in the registry of wills in the Probate office, that the first and 
 second generations after coming to this country wrote the name 
 Buckmaster. The Almanac and Prognosticator of Thomas Buck- 
 minster, of the year 1599, now in the possession of the writer, has 
 descended in the family from the day of its author, and proves that 
 in the year of its publication the name was written as it is at present. 
 
 Joseph Stevens Buckminster, when in England, took the trouble 
 to search into the antiquity of the family name, and found that a 
 coat of arms, " Argent, seme des feurs de Us, a Lyon, rampant, 
 sablej was confirmed by Sir Gilbert Dethick, Garter king-at-arms, 
 the 24 March, 1578, in the 21st year of Queen Elizabeth, to Wil 
 liam Buckminster, son and heir of Richard Buckminster, eldest 
 son of John Buckminster of Peterborough, Northamptonshire, and 
 to all the posterity of the said John Buckminster forever." MSS. 
 in Ashmole, No. 834, p. 20 ; Guillim s Heraldry, 6th ed., London, 
 1724, p. 276. 
 
 In the English records in Westminster, printed by the order of 
 William IV., A. D. 1216, is the name of " Adam Bukeminstr" 
 and " Robertum filium suum." It seems, therefore, that the 
 name as it appears written in the Suffolk office is a corruption of 
 the original name in England. 
 
480 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. II. 
 
 Sermons Published by Dr. Buckminstcr. 
 
 1. A Discourse delivered December llth, 1783, the Day of the 
 General Thanksgiving throughout the United States after the Rat 
 ification of the Treaty of Peace and Acknowledgment of their In 
 dependence. Published by request. 
 
 2. A Discourse delivered November 1, 1789, when the Presi 
 dent of the United States visited Portsmouth. 
 
 3. A Sermon delivered February 27, 1794, at the Interment of 
 Mrs. Porter of Rye. 
 
 4. Two Discourses delivered February 28, 1796, upon the Duty 
 of Republican Citizens in the Choice of their Rulers. " Dulce et 
 decorum est pro patria mori." Published by request. 
 
 5. A Discourse delivered at Hampton March 2d, 1796, a Day 
 devoted by the Congregational Church in that Place to Fasting 
 and Prayer. Being Remarks upon the Dispute and Separation of 
 Paul and Barnabas. Published by Desire of the Hearers. 
 
 6. A Discourse delivered in Portsmouth, November 15, 1798, 
 on Thanksgiving Day. Published by request. 
 
 7. A Sermon delivered in Portsmouth on the Lord s Day after 
 the Melancholy Tidings of the Death of George Washington, the 
 Father, Guardian, and Ornament of his Country. December, 1799. 
 
 8. Two Sermons delivered in the First Church in Portsmouth 
 January 5th, 1800, the House beiri shrouded in Mourning in To 
 ken of Respect to the Memory of General Washington. 
 
 9. A Sermon preached to the United Congregational Churches 
 in Portsmouth February 22d, 1800, the Day appointed by Con 
 gress to pay Respect to the Memory of Washington. Published 
 by request. 
 
 10. A Discourse delivered in Portsmouth December 14, 1800, 
 the Anniversary of the Death of General Washington. " The 
 memory of the just is blessed." 
 
 11. A Discourse occasioned by the Desolating Fire in Ports 
 mouth, December, 1803. Published by request. 
 
 12. A Discourse preached before the Portsmouth Female Char 
 itable School October 14, 1803. Published by request. 
 
APPENDIX. 481 
 
 13. A Discourse delivered at the Ordination of Rev. J. S. Buck- 
 minster to the Pastoral Charge of the Church in Brattle Street, 
 Boston, December 30, 1805. 
 
 14. A Discourse delivered at the Interment of Rev. Samuel 
 Haven, D. D., and of his Wife, Mrs. Margaret Haven, who sur 
 vived her Husband but thirty-six hours, March 3d, 1806. "In 
 their death they were not divided." 
 
 15. Domestic Happiness. A Sermon delivered in Portsmouth 
 February 23, 1803. Published by request of the Young Men of 
 the Parish. 
 
 16. A Discourse on Baptism, 1803. " Suffer little children and 
 forbid them not to come to me ; for of such is the kingdom of 
 heaven." Jesus Christ. 
 
 17. A Discourse upon Christian Charity, being the Conclusion 
 of the Sermon upon Baptism, 1803. 
 
 18. A Sermon delivered at the Installation of Rev. James Milti- 
 more to the Charge of the Fourth Church in Newbury, April 27, 
 1808. 
 
 19. A Sermon delivered before the Female Charitable Society 
 of Newburyport, May, 1809. Published at the request of the Man 
 agers. 
 
 20. A Sermon preached at the Installation of Rev. James Thurs- 
 ton in Manchester, N. H., May, 1809. 
 
 21. A Sermon delivered at the Interment of Rev. Moses Hem- 
 men way, D. D., Pastor of the First Church of Christ in Wells, 
 Maine, 1811. 
 
 22. Substance of three Discourses delivered in Park Street 
 Church, Boston, August 11, 1811. "I am not ashamed of the 
 gospel of Christ." St. Paul. 
 
 Beside the above-mentioned Sermons, Dr. Buckminster pub 
 lished a short memoir of Dr. Maclintock of Greenland, N. H. He 
 was also one of the authors of the " Piscataqua River Prayer 
 Book for the Use of Families," and a constant contributor to the 
 pages of the " Piscataqua Missionary Magazine." 
 41 
 
482 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. III. 
 Publications of Rev. Joseph Stevens Bud-minster. 
 
 During his life, he published only two sermons, viz. : 
 
 1. A Discourse delivered December 18,1808, on the Lord s 
 Day after the Public Funeral of Hon. James Sullivan, Governor of 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 2. A Discourse delivered at the Interment of Rev. William Em 
 erson, May, 1811. 
 
 A Discourse pronounced before the Society of Phi Beta Kap 
 pa at Cambridge, August 31, 1809. Published in the Anthol 
 ogy- 
 
 His contributions to periodical publications during his life were, 
 as nearly as can be ascertained, as follows : 
 
 To the Literary Miscellany : Review of Dr. Millar s Retro 
 spect of the Eighteenth Century, Vol. I., p. 82. Translation of an 
 Idyl of Meleager, and of an Inscription to Somnus, Vol. I., pp. 196, 
 197. 
 
 To the Monthly Anthology .and Review : 
 ~ Heview of the Salem Sallust, Vol. II. 549. 
 
 Remarker, No. 5, on Criticism, Vol. III. 19. 
 
 Review of Sherman on the Trinity, Vol. III. 249. 
 
 Introduction to Retrospective Notices of American Literature, 
 Vol. V. 54. 
 
 Review of Logan s Version of Cato Major, Vol. V. 281, 340, 
 391. 
 
 Remarker, No. 34, on Gray s Poetry, Vol. V. 367. Defence of 
 Gray, Vol. V. 484. 
 
 Editor s Address to Vol. VI. 1. 
 
 Description of the Fall of the Rossburg and Destruction of Gol- 
 dau, first published in the Anthology. 
 
 Sketch of French Literature and Science, published as a " Let 
 ter from Paris " in the Anthology. 
 
 Review of Thompson s Septuagint, Vol. VII. 396. Continued, 
 Vol. VIIL 193. 
 
 Review of Griesbach s New Testament, Vol. X. 107. Con 
 tinued, p. 403. Notices of, Vols. V. and VI. 
 
APPENDIX. 483 
 
 In the General Repository and Review : 
 
 On the Accuracy and Fidelity of Griesbach, Vol. I. 89. Con 
 tinued, 363. 
 
 Translation of the Article PNEYMA in Schleusner s Lexicon, 
 with Notes, Vol. I. 296. 
 
 Review of Rev. W. Emerson s History of the First Church, 
 Vol. I. 374, with the exception of the first paragraph, which was 
 added by the editor, Mr. Andrews Norton. 
 
 Mr. Buckminster published a Collection of Hymns " for the use 
 of the Church in Brattle Street," 1808. 
 
 Wellbeloved s Devotional Exercises for the Use of Young Per 
 sons, 1808. 
 
 Zollikoffer s Sermons to Young Men. The last two at his own 
 expense. 
 
 The first selection of his sermons, consisting of twenty-four, in 
 large octavo, was published in 1814, with a memoir by S. C. 
 Thacher. It passed through three editions. 
 
 The second selection, consisting of twenty-two sermons, octavo, 
 was published in 1829. 
 
 In 1839, James Munroe & Co. published " The Works of Jo 
 seph S. Buckminster, with Memoirs of his Life," two volumes, 
 duodecimo. This edition includes Mr. Thacher s Memoir, and 
 Notices of Mr. Buckminster by Mr. Norton, Mr. Charles Eliot, 
 and Rev. Mr. Colman. It also includes extracts from sermons first 
 published in the " Christian Disciple." 
 
 At the commencement of the publication of the "Christian 
 Disciple," the manuscript sermons of Mr. Buckminster were 
 placed in the hands of its editors. Extracts were made from 
 forty-four sermons, which were published in the successive numbers 
 of that periodical. 
 
 No. IV. 
 
 JOSEPH S. BUCKMINSTER S library was sold, by printed cata 
 logue, at public auction, in August, 1812. Here are mentioned 
 the editions of the Bible and Commentaries belonging to his li 
 brary, with their cost in Europe : 
 
484 APPENDIX. 
 
 Biblia Sacra Polyglotta Londinensia. Walton. Lond. 1657. 
 And Lexicon Heptaglotton. Castell. Lond. 1669. [A fine 
 copy, containing the famous dedication to Charles the Second, the 
 very existence of which has been denied by bibliographers. See 
 Gen. Repos., No. 2.] Price, $ 100. 
 
 Biblia Hebraica. Cum variis lectionibus ex ingenti codicum co- 
 pia a B. Kennicott & J. B. de Rossi collatorum. Doederlein &- 
 Meisner. Lipsiae. 1792. 4to. [Blue morocco. Largest and best 
 paper.] $9. 
 
 Biblia Hebraica. Ex edit. Athiae. 4to. [Imperfect. Inter 
 leaved, with some MS. notes.] 
 
 Biblia Graeca. V. T. Graecum ex versione LXX. Interpr. juxta 
 exemplar Vaticanum. Lond. excud. Rog. Daniel. 1653. [A large 
 paper copy in 4to. of Daniel s Septuagint, containing the Apoc 
 rypha and New Testament. Very rare and precious.] $ 10. 
 
 Biblia Graeca LXX. Interp. ed. J. E. Grabe. Ex codice Alex 
 andrine. Oxon. 1707-9. 8 vols. 8vo. [The letter-press is 
 exactly the same with that of the folio.] $20. 
 
 Novum Testamentum Graecum J. J. Wetstenii. Amst. 1751. 
 [Interleaved, in 4 vols. folio. Russia backs and edges, and per 
 fectly new. Cost in London, 1807, 9 . 12.s. 6d. sterling.] $ 50. 
 
 Nov. Test. Graec. Griesbachii. Ed. 2da. Lond. & Hal. Sax. 
 Vol. I. 1796. II. 1806. Royal 8vo. Commonly called the Duke 
 of Grafton s edition. 
 
 Nov. Test. Graec. G. D. T. M. D. (a Gerhardo de Trajecto 
 Mosse Doctore.) Editio altera. Amst. 1735. 8vo. [Common 
 ly called Curcellaeus s edition, though erroneously. It is in 8vo., 
 and not in 12mo., as Dibdin (see p. Ixix.) and others assert.] 
 
 Poli Synopsis Criticorum. Francofurti ad Maenum. 1694. 5 
 vols. 4to. [Much more convenient than the common folio ed.] 
 $25. 
 
 Grotii Opera Omn. Theologica. Amst. 1679. Do.Epistolas. 5 
 vols. fol. [The first 3 vols. contain his commentary on the Old 
 and New Testament. The 5th vol., containing his letters, may be 
 sold separately.] $25. 
 
 Clerici (i. e. Le Clerc s) Commentarius in V. T. 4 vols. fol. 
 $30. 
 
 Clerici Harmonia Evang. 1 vol. fol. Amst. 1710. 
 
APPENDIX. 485 
 
 Clerici et Hammond! in N. T. Ed. 2da. Francof. 1714. 
 2 vols. fol. [In all, 9 vols. folio, new.] 
 
 Bibliotheca Fratrum Polonorum. Irenop. 1656. 9 vols. fol. 
 [This set contains the 9th vol., which is very rarely to be met 
 with. See Bp. Watson s catalogue of books in divinity for this and 
 many of the large theological works here offered for sale.] $50. 
 
 Houbigantii Notae Criticse cum ejusdem Prolegomenis juxta ex 
 emplar Parisiense denuo recusse. Francof. ad Maen. . 1777. 2 vols. 
 4to. [This work will supply the place of Houbigant s splendid 
 Bible.] 
 
 Kennicotti Dissertatio Gcneralis in V. T. fol. bds. Oxon. 
 1780. $3. 
 
 Trommii Concordantise Graecae Version is. Amst. 1718. 2 vols. 
 folio. [Fine copy, uncut.] $ 15. 
 
 Schmidii Tameion al. Concordantise Nov. Test. Graec. Witte- 
 berg. 1638. folio. $10. 
 
 Robertson Thesaurus, sive Concord antiale Lexicon Hebraeo- 
 Latinum Biblicum. Lond. 1680. 4to. 
 
 Arnald s Critical Commentary on the Apocryphal Books, being 
 a Continuation of Patrick and Lowth. Lond. 1744-52. folio. 
 Scarce. 
 
 Pocock s Theological Works, edited by Leon. Twells. Lond. 
 1740. 2 vols. Containing his Porta Moris and Commentary on 
 Hosea, Joel, Micah, and Malachi. 
 
 Toinardi Harmonia Evangeliorum Grseco Latina. Parisiis. 
 1707. fol. [For the value of this work, see Marsh s Michaelis, 
 Vol. III., Pt. II., p. 41.] 
 
 Whitby s Paraphrase and Commentary on the New Testament. 
 Fifth ed. Lond. 1727. 2 vols. fol. $15. 
 
 Beausobre et L Enfant nouveau Testament. Nouvelle ed. cor- 
 rige par les Auteurs. Amst. 1741. 2 vols. 4to. [This is the 
 ed. opt. of this most excellent work.] $ 12. 
 
 The New Test., Greek and English. London : Printed for J. 
 Roberts. 1729. 2 vols. 8vo. [Large paper, very rare. Editor and 
 translator unknown ; supposed to be Dr. Mace or Macey. See 
 Dibdin, Introd., p. Ixv.] $6. 
 
 Wakefield s Translation of the New Testament. 2d ed. Lond. 
 1795. 2 vols. royal 8 vo. Large paper. $9. 
 
486 APPENDIX. 
 
 Nov. Test. Gr. Nova versione Latina illustrata auctore H. A. 
 Schott. Lips. 1805. 8vo. Bound in 2 vols. Russia. [Text 
 Griesbach s, with the most important various readings under it, 
 and various renderings under the Latin version ; " in usum Gym- 
 nasiorum et Academiarum editum."] $6. 
 
 La Sainte Bible. Expliquee par des Notes de Theologie et de 
 Critique sur la Version ordinaire des Eglises Reformees, revue sur 
 les Origineaux, &c., par David Martin. Amst. 1707. 2 vols. fol. 
 $6. 
 
 La Sainte Bible, ou V. et N. T., traduites par les Pasteurs et 
 les Professeurs de Geneve. A Geneve. 1805. Last edition, cor 
 rected. 3 vols. 8vo. $750. 
 
 No. V. 
 
 DURING Mr. Buckminster s ministry of seven years and four 
 months, two hundred and fifty-nine were baptized (one of them 
 eighty-three years old), and eighty-eight persons were added to the 
 church in Brattle Street. 
 
 No. VI. 
 
 OF the engravings prefixed to this volume, that of Dr. Buck- 
 minster is the only portrait ever taken of him. It was painted at 
 about the age of thirty-eight years. The general outline of the 
 face and figure are correct ; but the face, at least to those who were 
 intimately acquainted with him, is extremely deficient in the ele 
 vated, intellectual, and harmonious expression which belonged to 
 the original. 
 
 The younger portrait is an engraving by Edwin from the splen 
 did picture of Mr. Buckminster, painted by Gilbert Stuart only a 
 few months before his death. It is one of his happiest efforts. 
 Mr. Thacher observes of this picture, " Some of the most inter 
 esting traits, which are yet remembered with fond regret by his 
 friends, it is perhaps beyond the reach of art to preserve." Many 
 copies have been taken from it. The original picture is in the pos 
 session of George Lyman, Esq., Boston. 
 
S SMW WMm*NT 
 
 
 LOANPERIOD ] 
 HOME USE 
 
 aSSS5iS? 
 
 ttwasawjSteStts-- 
 
 ion Desk 
 
 * ^^OMMODBSOW 
 
0036450533