GIFT OF 
 

 9 
 
THE 
 
 REMAINS 
 
 OF 
 
 NATHANIEL APPLETON HAVEN, 
 
 WITH A MEMOIR OF HIS LIFE, 
 
 BY GEORGE TICKNOR. 
 
 MDCCCXXVJI, 
 
dBIBRIDGE : t ;.* 
 
 Hilliard, Met'calf , & 'Company, 
 
TO JEREMIAH MASON, ESQ. 
 
 THE EARLY, UNIFORM, AND IMPORTANT FRIEND OF MR. HAVEN, 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY 
 
 DEDICATED. 
 
 411478 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE friends of Mr. Haven are not willing, that his memory 
 should be suffered to fail from among those, who have done good 
 in their time and furthered the cause of human improvement. 
 They are, however, no less unwilling to come before the public 
 with a volume, which, whatever may be thought of its merits or 
 value by others, its author would not have permitted to go to the 
 press without much care and, perhaps, many changes. They have, 
 therefore, printed only a small number of copies of this collection. 
 They have not published it. But still, they trust, it may serve to 
 keep the recollection of Mr. Haven fresh in the minds of many, 
 and, perhaps, not be without an influence on the advancement of 
 those principles and hopes, to which he devoted his life. 
 
 Mmember 1, 1827. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 MEMOIR ix 
 
 ORATIONS. 
 
 Centennial Oration at Portsmouth .... 3 
 Oration before the <l>. B. K. at Dartmouth College . . 24 
 
 PAPERS READ BEFORE THE FORENSIC SOCIETY. 
 
 On Tracts 39 
 
 On the Character of Buonaparte 57 
 
 On the Support of Public Worship .... 73 
 
 On "Old Mortality" ....... 84 
 
 On the Character of Oliver Cromwell .... 101 
 
 PAPERS PUBLISHED IN " THE PORTSMOUTH JOURNAL." 
 
 Balance of Trade ........ 119 
 
 Protecting Duties 135 
 
 Trade with the British West Indies . . . 144 
 
 The Tariff 147 
 
 Rate of Interest 151 
 
 Political Science 155 
 
 Bankrupt Laws . . . . . . . 164 
 
v jii CONTENTS. 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 Letter to a Friend on Sunday Schools . . . 179 
 
 Address to the Teachers of a Sunday School . . 193 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Character of a Lawyer 215 
 
 Economy in Public Service ...... 221 
 
 Caucuses 224 
 
 Principle of Speculation ...... 228 
 
 POETET. 
 
 Orpheus, translations 235 
 
 Hymn for the Fourth of July 239 
 
 Fiction, a Poem 241 
 
 A Fragment 249 
 
 Lines on Frederick the Great 251 
 
 The Purse of Charity ....... 252 
 
 Hymn 254 
 
 Farewell to the Year 256 
 
 Autumn 257 
 
 Confirmation 259 
 
 The New Year . 261 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE . . . 267 
 
MEMOIR 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 NATHANIEL APPLETON HAVEN was born in Portsmouth, 
 New-Hampshire, on the fourteenth of January, seventeen 
 hundred and ninety. His father, who was graduated at 
 Harvard College in 1779, was, for several years, a physi 
 cian, and afterwards a merchant; but, amidst many cares 
 and labors, always found time to serve his friends and coun- 
 try, and, at an anxious period, represented New-Hampshire 
 in the Congress of the United States, maintaining there, un- 
 der trying and difficult circumstances, an upright and disin- 
 terested character. The paternal grandfather of Mr. Ha- 
 ven was the Rev. Dr. Samuel Haven, who died in 1806, 
 having been fifty-four years a faithful pastor of the South 
 Church in Portsmouth, and having, with very small means, 
 educated, in the best way the country would afford, a singu- 
 larly large family, which has, in consequence of it, exerted 
 an important influence on society ever since. 
 
 The first wife of Mr. Haven's grandfather was Miss Ap- 
 pleton, daughter of the Rev. Dr. Nathaniel Appleton of 
 Cambridge, who died in 1784, having been above sixty-six 
 years pastor of the church with which Harvard College was 
 then connected, and having maintained, during that long 
 period, a consideration never granted to talents alone. Mr. 
 Haven's father was educated by Dr. Appleton, and bore 
 
XJi MEMOIR. 
 
 his name, which he again gave to his only son, the subject 
 of this memoir, transmitting to him, at the same time, not a 
 little of what was most wise and valuable in the patriarchal 
 spirit of his ancestors, one of whom was thus permitted to 
 exert, far into the nineteenth century, the influences of a 
 character formed amidst the stern and self-denying disci- 
 pline of the seventeenth. 
 
 These were the paternal ancestors of Mr. Haven. His 
 mother, whose original name was Mary Tufton MofTat, was 
 descended from John Tufton Mason, the well known gran- 
 tee of a large portion of the state of New-Hampshire. She 
 was adopted and educated by her uncle General William 
 Whipple, one of the persons, who signed the declaration of 
 Independence of the United States ; and, from his family, 
 she was, in 1786, married to the father of Mr. Haven. Mr. 
 Haven, therefore, descended alike from the Puritan clergy 
 and the adventurous settlers of the country, w 7 as born under 
 those circumstances, which, in a community like ours, are 
 most favorable to the developement of wise and useful talent. 
 
 The early youth of Mr. Haven is not remembered to 
 have been marked by any indications of a strong character. 
 On the contrary, until he was three years old, his general 
 appearance was so unobtrusive, and he took so little inter- 
 est in the plays and occupations of childhood, that some of 
 his family, and particularly his venerable grandfather, feared 
 he might prove deficient in understanding. But soon after 
 this, a marked change appeared. He learned to read more 
 easily than is common to children ; showed great docility 
 and sometimes eagerness in the pursuit of knowledge suited 
 to his years ; and very soon gave proofs and instances of 
 self-government, which afterwards became a habit with him, 
 and proved, at last, one of the most remarkable features in 
 his character. 
 
MEMOIR. xiii 
 
 The first ten years of his life were spent at home, under 
 the personal instructions of his father. He grew up, an af- 
 fectionate and promising child, with a strong tendency to in- 
 tellectual pursuits, but with feeble health and a delicate con- 
 stitution. In 1800, when he was ten years old, having 
 already begun his Latin studies, he was sent to Phillips 
 Academy in Exeter. His health, while he was there, con- 
 tinued uncertain, and he was occasionally attacked with an 
 inflammation of his eyes, which sometimes rendered it doubt- 
 ful, whether he would be able to prosecute his studies with 
 success. But his care and perseverance, at last, prevailed. 
 At the age of a little more than twelve, he was already pre- 
 pared for admission at college. His father, however, well 
 considered, that the studies which ought to be pursued at 
 such a place for instruction could not be adapted to a mind 
 so young, and held back his son yet one year longer, until 
 the summer of 1803, when he left the academy at Exeter 
 with the testimony of its excellent Principal, that he was 
 one of a few scholars, who had been under his care, in the 
 course of many years, whose education had been to him a 
 pleasure and not a task. 
 
 From 1803 to 1807 he was a member of Harvard Col- 
 lege. The period passed at college, when the restraints of 
 childhood are with many for the first time thrown off, is 
 sometimes an important, and sometimes even a deciding 
 portion of life. But, with Mr. Haven, it was simply what 
 Sir William Blackstone calls it, " an awkward interval ; " 
 for these four years were always regarded by him as the 
 most unprofitable part of his life. During some of them, 
 he was doubtful whether he had not better entirely leave 
 college, where he found himself by no means favorably sit- 
 uated for the intellectual progress he desired. During oth- 
 ers, there were disturbances and troubles ; much idleness 
 
x iv MEMOIR. 
 
 and much misspent time ; and, during all of them, he felt 
 even then, and constantly lamented afterwards, the want of 
 a wiser discipline and a generous and liberal system of stud- 
 ies, which would permit the pupil to choose what would be 
 most appropriate to his future purposes in life. His instruc- 
 ters, however, found no reason to complain of his conduct 
 or character. They were not unaware, that he avoided, as 
 much as possible, some branches of study ; but they knew, 
 that, in others, he did more than was required of him ; and 
 his relative rank in his class was such, that, if he was com- 
 pelled afterwards to look back with mortification on this 
 part of his life, the fault must be charged to others rather 
 than to himself. At any rate, having passed through the for- 
 mal term prescribed, he was, at last, graduated with distin- 
 guished honors ; and, if his college life left no other valuable 
 traces behind it, he always remembered with gratitude some 
 of the attachments he there formed, among which none was 
 deeper than that subsisting between himself and his class- 
 mate Mr. Gallison, whose kindred talents and character 
 early brought them together, and kept them much united 
 until they were separated by death. 
 
 A few days before Mr. Haven was to receive the honors 
 of the college, in August, 1807, he was seized with a violent 
 illness, which for some time threatened to prove fatal. His 
 recovery was slow; and, as his friends afterwards thought, 
 his constitution received a shock from this illness, which 
 was never entirely overcome. As soon, however, as his 
 strength was sufficiently restored, he went to Exeter, where 
 he had been elected assistant teacher in the Institution, in 
 which he had already passed three happy and useful years 
 as a pupil. Mr. Haven was well fitted for the situation he 
 now occupied and the circumstances in which he was plac- 
 ed ; and the effects of both on his habits and character 
 
MEMOIR. XV 
 
 were important and lasting. He went over again the clas- 
 sical studies he had pursued at college with great predilec- 
 tion, and began others in some respects higher and more 
 severe. He found himself in the midst of a society, whose 
 standard and tone were more elevated than any, in which 
 he had before borne a part, and whose spirit he felt to be 
 calling upon him for greater exertions than he had yet 
 made. He was, too, gradually coming nearer to the busi- 
 ness of life, and naturally felt its stirring influences, as he 
 approached it. On all accounts, therefore, the year Mr. 
 Haven now passed in Exeter was among the most interest- 
 ing of his life ; on one account, it was among the most for- 
 tunate. He had never before mingled freely in society. 
 Its influence, therefore, like its influence on every fresh 
 and ardent mind, was necessarily great ; and it was his hap- 
 piness, that the young .friends to whom he now became at- 
 tached, were persons of uncommon endowments, who were, 
 like himself, eager in the pursuit of improvement, and gave 
 the same impulse to his spirit, which they gladly received 
 from him in return. 
 
 Another circumstance rendered this a peculiarly impor- 
 tant year in Mr. Haven's life. He was naturally and al- 
 most necessarily called upon, in the course of it, to make 
 his final decision as to the profession he would pursue. It 
 was a subject, indeed, on which his thoughts had long been 
 occupied ; but its consequences were to decide so much of 
 his future usefulness and happiness, that he now deliberated 
 upon it with new care. His inclinations, for some time, 
 had tended strongly towards divinity. His early education 
 in his father's house had been such as a child receives, who 
 is surrounded with religious influences and guarded by 
 Christian . affection ; but who hears nothing of theological 
 controversy. Very soon, however, he was told by others, 
 
xvi MEMOIR. 
 
 of dogmas and creeds, and listened to public instructions 
 from the pulpit, in the severest forms of Calvinism. These 
 he, for some time, believed to be essential to Christianity ; 
 and the consequence was, that, in his Junior year at college, 
 he was agitated by painful doubts respecting its divine au- 
 thority. But it was not for a mind'like his, long to continue 
 in such bondage. He read Paley's " Evidences," the little 
 tract of Priestley's " An Appeal to the Serious and Candid 
 Professors of Christianity," and the " Letters to Wilberforce, 
 by a Layman." By the careful study of these and other 
 books, he gradually returned to happy and settled views of 
 Christian faith, but not to the creed of Geneva. Even before 
 he left college, there are found among his papers proofs of 
 the opening of a devout spirit ; and, during the year he now 
 passed at Exeter, they are not to be mistaken. The inter- 
 est he took in the religious character of his pupils, the zeal 
 and fidelity of his instructions, and the purity of his example, 
 are still fresh in the memory of those with whom he was as- 
 sociated in the task he had undertaken ; while many prayers, 
 which he composed at this time, and which still remain 
 among his papers, show how solemn he considered the na- 
 ture of his duties to be, and how entirely he relied upon God 
 for the strength necessary to fulfil them. Indeed, on all ac- 
 counts, there can be no doubt, that, from this period of his 
 life, religion constituted the foundation of his character, and 
 essentially governed his conduct and life. 
 
 It was natural, therefore, that, being called at such a 
 time to make choice of a profession, he should have first 
 thought of theology. But many circumstances opposed 
 what, if his 'inclination alone had been consulted, might 
 probably have been his final choice. His general health 
 was not strong ; his eyesight was doubtful ; and, besides, 
 he was the only son in his family, who thus seemed to re- 
 
MEMOIR. xvii 
 
 quire him to choose no pursuit, that would necessarily re- 
 move him from their immediate neighbourhood. He, 
 therefore, reluctantly gave up the study of divinity, and de- 
 termining to devote himself to the law, left Exeter in the 
 autumn of 1808, carrying with him the permanent attach- 
 ment of many, who had been drawn to him by the fine tal- 
 ents and interesting qualities in his character, which had 
 there been so fast unfolded. 
 
 In January 1809, he began the study of the law, under 
 the direction of Mr. Mason of Portsmouth, a counsellor of 
 distinguished powers, whose sagacious and penetrating mind 
 always seemed to make itself felt with peculiar effect in 
 personal intercourse with other minds capable of receiving 
 its influences and understanding its character. Mr. Haven 
 was a favorite pupil with him ; and the generous excite- 
 ment, therefore, which had been awakened at Exeter, was 
 not only continued but increased during the three years he 
 now devoted to the preparatory studies in his profession. 
 They were, probably, the three most laborious years of his 
 life ; certainly they were the three years in which he read 
 the greatest number of books. Study, indeed, was now his 
 great object, and he devoted himself to it with such earn- 
 estness as to give up society, in a degree remarkable for 
 his age, and to avoid all common pleasures and recreations, 
 lest they should unfit his mind for the pursuits in which he 
 was so much interested. 
 
 Before he began the profession of the law, he had ac- 
 quired an intellectual discipline and settled habits of applica- 
 tion, very unusual for his years. It seemed already to cost 
 him no labor, to adopt and pursue a regular course of legal 
 studies, and to devote to them a suitable portion of each 
 day. Mr, Mason has said, he never knew a young man, 
 beginning the pursuit of the law, to whom it was apparent- 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 ly so easy to observe a proper order and method. By thus 
 adhering diligently to a prescribed course of professional 
 study, his proficiency was much greater than ordinary ; 
 while, by a wise economy of time, he had sufficient leisure 
 left for classical reading and critical speculations, which he 
 always loved and never neglected. Even in these pursuits, 
 also, which he considered rather as recreations, he had a 
 fixed course, and, therefore, avoided the waste of time so 
 common to many young students, who read on such sub- 
 jects only what accident throws into their hands. 
 
 But the strict adherence to order and method, which was 
 thus early so prominent in Mr. Haven's character, and 
 which always continued to distinguish it, would not alone 
 have carried him forward so fast and so far in his profes- 
 sional studies, as he advanced during these three years. 
 He was led on mainly, I think, by an elevated idea of the 
 profession itself, and of the responsibilities and duties that 
 would fall upon him, when he should undertake its practice. 
 He had a lofty example before him ; and he placed his 
 mark high. Among some memoranda, set down during 
 this period of his life, I find the following striking remarks. 
 " Where is the beau ideal of the profession of law to be 
 found ? Not in Coke, nor Saunders, nor Blackstone. 
 Perhaps in the oratorical works of Cicero, or in the writ- 
 ings of the great masters of national jurisprudence. Hon- 
 orable success can never be attained without an elevated 
 opinion of the profession in which we are engaged. In the 
 practice of the law, this is emphatically true. For who 
 would bear the labors of the preparation, the tedious anxiety 
 of a client, the obstinacy of a witness, the dulness of a jury, 
 for the fee he receives ? And yet, this is the only object, 
 with a majority of the profession. But the man of real 
 dignity, who looks to something more than mere wealth for 
 
MEMOIR. x i x 
 
 his reward, carries in his mind an image of excellence, to 
 which he is continually aspiring. ' Fame is the spur, that 
 the clear spirit doth raise.' ' 
 
 In the midst of his professional studies, however, he did 
 not overlook or neglect elegant literature, or civil history. 
 The last, indeed, he considered a branch of his duty as a 
 lawyer, and pursued it with great earnestness for a series 
 of years ; and to the first, he gave much of his leisure with 
 a fond preference. He read, at this period, with great de- 
 light, the poets and prose writers of the time of Queen Eliz- 
 abeth and James the First ; finished the study of French, 
 which he had begun before, though he never took a strong 
 interest in French literature ; and made some progress in 
 Italian. But, in every plan of studies he arranged, the an- 
 cient orators, poets, and historians held a prominent place. 
 " They greatly err," he once said, " who suppose learning 
 and polite knowledge to be inconsistent with a profound ac- 
 quaintance with the law. Of the aid, which legal science 
 may derive from polite literature, no greater example can 
 be required than Lord Mansfield. A lawyer, like an ora- 
 tor, should be ' omni laude cumulatus.' " On another oc- 
 casion, speaking of the studies of a lawyer, he said, " The 
 two great masters of ancient eloquence should be continu- 
 ally before him. * He should embody all the 
 qualities of ideal excellence, which he can derive from their 
 writings, and place it before him, as a model to which he 
 must continually aspire ; but which he can never hope to 
 equal. It was this pursuit of ideal excellence, which made 
 Demosthenes an orator, and Cicero a consul." It was, I 
 doubt not, in a great degree, because Mr. Haven thought 
 so highly of his profession as a moral science, and had so 
 well settled his opinions about it, even while studying its el- 
 ements, that he pursued it with such earnestness, persever- 
 ance, and success. 
 
XX MEMOIR. 
 
 In May 1809, he visited Washington, where he spent 
 some weeks, during an interesting and exciting session of 
 Congress in Mr. Madison's first Presidency, and became 
 acquainted with many of the persons then most distinguish- 
 ed, whether in the administration of affairs or in the oppo- 
 sition. It was altogether a curious exhibition, which he 
 was able the better to understand, because his father was 
 then a member of the House of Representatives, and it 
 seems to have served him as a source of instruction, during 
 the whole of his life afterwards. Except this visit in Wash- 
 ington, however, Mr. Haven was little absent from home, 
 during the time he was pursuing his studies preparatory to 
 his being admitted to the bar. Once, indeed, he made a 
 journey for his health into the northern portions of New- 
 Hampshire, with which he thus became acquainted, and as- 
 cended, with a party of friends, to the summit of the White 
 Hills. And, in August 1810, when he received his degree 
 of Master of Arts, he visited Cambridge, and delivered the 
 Latin valedictory of his class. But, excepting these short 
 absences, he remained quietly and earnestly devoted to the 
 study of his profession in Portsmouth, avoiding all common 
 amusements, and, in some measure, even society, for fear 
 his mind should lose the lone best fitted to the high studies 
 on which he was employed, and from which he allowed 
 himself no relaxation, except such as he found in the pur- 
 suit of history and elegant literature. 
 
 At the end of the accustomed term of study, in Decem- 
 ber 1811, he was admitted to the bar. But he did not, at 
 once, begin the practice of the law. He had long indulged 
 the hope, which is seldom successfully repressed in the 
 minds of young men. eager in the pursuit of knowledge and 
 with means, that will warrant its gratification ; the hope, I 
 mean, of visiting Europe, and becoming acquainted with a 
 
MEMOIR. xx i 
 
 state of society, where, in many respects, the human mind 
 is further advanced, than it is in our own country. Mr. 
 Haven sometimes amused himself, with tracing this desire 
 to see foreign countries, to an early fondness for accounts 
 of voyages and travels ; and used to say, that, out of a 
 great number of books, which he read for his entertainment 
 as a boy, none left a permanent impression on his mind, ex- 
 cept " Cooke's Voyages round the World." This, perhaps, 
 had its effect ; for " Cooke's Voyages " is among the most 
 interesting books in the reading of every one. But it is, 
 probably, more natural and reasonable to look for some 
 more general cause, and consider Mr. Haven simply as a 
 young man of an ardent mind, who lived in a commercial 
 capital ; who was the son of a merchant in extensive busi- 
 ness ; who every day saw persons fresh from foreign coun- 
 tries and full of the spirit of adventure, and whose own main 
 occupation in life was with books written in those countries, 
 and needing, for their full understanding and enjoyment, 
 much local knowledge, and much knowledge of modes of 
 thinking and acting, which can never be obtained elsewhere. 
 But whatever may have first excited in his mind the de- 
 sire to visit Europe, the period most suitable for its gratifi- 
 cation, especially if a long absence was implied, was evi- 
 dently the one immediately following the completion of his 
 studies as a lawyer, and before he should begin the practice 
 of his profession. Foreseeing this, he began his prepara- 
 tion early, and among his papers are found many memoran- 
 da, made while he was a student at law, which would have 
 facilitated the fulfilment of his purposes. But, at the mo- 
 ment, when he seemed nearest to the gratification of his 
 wishes, he was suddenly cut off from them. His eyes, 
 which from childhood had been feeble, were attacked with 
 a violent inflammation, which continued from early in the 
 
xxii MEMOIR. 
 
 spring of 1812, until after the declaration of war in the June 
 following, when all intercourse with Europe was suspended. 
 The disappointment was very great ; but the personal suf- 
 fering and privation were still greater. For three months, 
 he was shut up in a darkened room, and, the greater part 
 of that time, he was confined to his bed, enduring severe 
 pain. Even when he was so far recovered, as to be able to 
 go abroad into the light, the effects of this illness remained 
 in his constitution. During ten years, he was able to read 
 only in the daytime ; sometimes only a small portion of the 
 day ; so that, for a most important period of his life, he was 
 deprived of means of improvement, which seemed to be es- 
 sential to the kind of success he sought. 
 
 But the beneficial effects of this visitation of God's provi- 
 dence, though, perhaps, not so immediate and certainly not 
 so obtrusive, were more important and lasting. Mr. Ha- 
 ven's mind, during this long period of suffering and priva- 
 tion, underwent a striking moral discipline. His thoughts 
 were turned inward, and gained a clearness and exactness, 
 which they never lost afterwards ; his powers of reflection 
 and reasoning were strengthened by solitary and silent ex- 
 ercise ; his faculties became harmoniously balanced ; and 
 his own judgment of himself, of his objects in life, and of 
 the means he possessed to accomplish them, were finally 
 settled. I have no doubt, he was a wiser and better man, 
 for this illness, all his life afterwards. 
 
 Perhaps one circumstance contributed, at this particular 
 time, to give a more than commonly serious direction to his 
 thoughts. In March 1812, just before he was confined by 
 this distressing illness, he had publicly professed his belief 
 in the Christian religion and become a member of the 
 church, over which his venerable grandfather had so long 
 been the pastor. His mind had been, for some months, de- 
 
MEMOIR. xx iii 
 
 termined on this point, and, indeed his education and feel- 
 ings had long tended to it. But the particular time he se- 
 lected, was certainly appropriate. He had just finished the 
 study of his profession ; the world was more distinctly and 
 immediately before him than it had been at any previous pe- 
 riod of his life ; and he was just about to encounter its cares 
 and assume its responsibilities. He paused for a moment, 
 therefore, on the threshold, and first publicly dedicated him- 
 self to God. In doing this, he neither expressed nor enter- 
 tained any superstitious feeling. He attributed no particular 
 efficacy to the rite he sought, except as a means of increas- 
 ing his reverence for the religion, he was no less bound to 
 obey without it. He approached the altar of Christianity, 
 therefore, simply in a spirit of great humility, making no 
 professions of his own piety, but humbly expressing his be- 
 lief, and praying that he might be strengthened to show his 
 faith in his life and conduct. 
 
 Entering on the world under such circumstances, and, 
 after so much suffering, disappointment, and reflection, Mr. 
 Haven naturally began to take his part in its concerns with 
 seriousness and caution. The state of his eyesight would 
 not permit him to study much ; but such intellectual labor 
 as he could perform, he performed carefully and faithfully. 
 In 1814, he delivered the oration in Portsmouth, on the 
 anniversary of our national independence. The appoint- 
 ment to this duty is proof of public estimation, towards one 
 so young, and the performance itself was creditable to his 
 talents, to the purity of his feelings, and to his steady devo- 
 tion to public improvement ; but the subjects discussed in 
 it, were many of them suited only to the times, and, there- 
 fore, it is not here reprinted. He opened an office and 
 continued the pursuit of his profession, as he had begun it 
 while a student, reading it particularly in its higher branch- 
 
xxiv MEMOIR. 
 
 es with much interest and to good effect. His literary 
 studies, too, were neither forgotten nor neglected ; and, 
 though he could not permit himself to give much time to 
 them, yet the progress he made was constant and even re- 
 markable. In this way, then, he passed the three melan- 
 choly years of the war with Great Britain ; not, indeed, in 
 active business as a lawyer, for there was little of such busi- 
 ness then to be done, and he could hardly be said to seek 
 even his share of it ; but he passed the time in thorough 
 studies, that laid the surest foundations for his future use- 
 fulness. 
 
 But when, at last, the war with Great Britain was over, 
 his desire to visit Europe was much diminished. He had 
 formed that attachment, on which a great proportion of ev- 
 ery man's happiness is left to depend, and to which his 
 own was soon afterwards finally and safely trusted ; and it 
 could not, therefore, be expected, that he should now un- 
 dertake any plan of life, which would involve so long an ab- 
 sence from home, as he had originally intended. One cir- 
 cumstance, however, induced him to make, at least, a short 
 visit to Europe. A sister, younger than himself, to whom 
 he had always been much attached, and to whose improve- 
 ment he had devoted much time, was in feeble and failing 
 health, and her physicians prescribed a voyage to her as 
 the surest remedy. Under these circumstances, Mr. Haven 
 did not hesitate. He embarked at Boston on the sixteenth 
 of April, 1815, with his sister and a party of friends, whose 
 society made the passage and the absence more than com- 
 monly agreeable to him, and was landed at Liverpool on the 
 twelfth of May. 
 
 When he sailed from the United States, the last accounts 
 from Europe left the world in a state of such profound 
 peace, that it was generally supposed the ancient order of 
 
MEMOIR. xxv 
 
 things had been finally restored by Buonaparte's exile to 
 Elba. But the first news he heard from the pilot, as he 
 approached England, was, that the Emperor was reestab- 
 lished on his throne with the consent of the French people, 
 and that all Europe was in arms again to dispossess him. 
 This state of things, however, which at first seemed to con- 
 found all his plans, served, at last, as circumstances were 
 developed, only to render his visit in Europe more interest- 
 ing, since his residence there embraced nearly the whole of 
 the hundred days of Buonaparte's second government of 
 France, with the struggles and arrangements that followed, 
 to settle down the world yet once more upon its ancient 
 foundations. 
 
 Almost immediately after landing in England, Mr. Haven 
 proceeded to London, passing, however, first through some 
 of the most beautiful and romantic portions of the Principal- 
 ity of Wales. He was in London, when those memorable 
 discussions happened in Parliament, that immediately pre- 
 ceded the battle of Waterloo, and often listened to them. 
 He was there, too, when that decisive battle was fought ; 
 and, amidst the festivities, illuminations, and rejoicings that 
 followed, witnessed much of its effect upon the British peo- 
 ple, then at the height of their power, and conscious of the 
 supremacy they enjoyed. And he shared much of the stir- 
 ring spirit that was abroad, wherever he went, and felt how 
 fortunate it was for him to be in the heart of the greatest 
 empire of the world, when its elements were so deeply shak- 
 en, that he was permitted to see revealed much of the ma- 
 chinery and excitement by which its whole mass is moved. 
 
 Early in July, however, as soon as quiet began to be re- 
 stored on the continent, he went over to Holland, embarking 
 at Harwich and landing at Helvoetsluys. He spent only 
 n short time in that singular country, dividing it chiefly 
 
XXvi MEMOIR. 
 
 among Amsterdam, the Hague, Leyden, and Utrecht ; and 
 then passing into the Netherlands, visited Antwerp and 
 Brussels. From Brussels, he went to Waterloo, still fresh 
 with the carnage that had happened only a few days before. 
 It was a spectacle, whose horrors can hardly be imagined 
 by one who has not witnessed them. For those who have 
 seen fields of battle, which time and care have made like 
 other fields, or which, at most, are distinguished only by a 
 few graceful monuments of art, that mark the spot, without 
 revealing the terrors that have passed on it, can hardly ap- 
 prehend what are the feelings of one, who visits a wide and 
 open field, where all is still trampled down, burnt, and 
 blackened with the desolation of recent strife ; where the 
 very air of summer breathes only of death ; and where, 
 amidst the ghastly fragments and ruins, that are on all sides 
 scattered around, if a spot is seen marked with the hand of 
 kindness or care, it is sure to be a grave. Mr. Haven 
 passed a day at Waterloo. He was led through all its re- 
 cent horrors, by those who had shared them ; and the im- 
 pression it made on him, was, as might be expected from a 
 spirit tempered like his, never effaced afterwards. 
 
 On leaving the Netherlands, he would gladly have gone 
 to Paris ; but France was still too little settled to make a 
 visit to its capital agreeable for a party, in which were both 
 ladies and invalids. Mr. Haven and his friends, therefore, 
 came round by Ostend, Dunkirk, and Calais; and then 
 crossing over again to England, proceeded, at once, to Lon- 
 don. London, however, in August, offered few induce- 
 ments to him, while the agricultural portions of England 
 offered many. He set out, then, very soon on a considera- 
 ble tour, in which, beginning with Hampton-Court and 
 Windsor, he visited Oxford, Blenheim, Stratford upon 
 Avon, several of those seats and castles of the nobility, 
 
MEMOIR. xxv ji 
 
 which distinguish England from every other country in the 
 world, and several of the manufacturing districts, which dis- 
 tinguish it hardly less ; and then came down to the coast at 
 Liverpool. There he embarked for the United States, and 
 reached Boston on the 28th of November, 1815, having 
 accomplished the main object of his absence in the restora- 
 tion of his sister's health, and bringing with him a valuable 
 library and much interesting and useful knowledge of the 
 modes of living, thinking, and conduct, in countries so dif- 
 ferent from our own. 
 
 The world was now again before him, with its cares and 
 duties, and he was. in many respects, to begin it anew. 
 About a month after he returned home, on the eighth of Jan- 
 uary, 1816, he was married to his cousin, Eliza Wentworth 
 Haven. Few persons have enjoyed more of the purest do- 
 mestic happiness than fell to his lot, during the ten remain- 
 ing years of his life ; not that he was without sorrows and 
 disappointments, for he had more than most persons of his 
 age, in the loss of children and friends ; but his marriage 
 was the result of a deep attachment, and its happiness was 
 secured and sustained by the influence of that religion, 
 which is so peculiarly adapted to the quiet and peace of do- 
 mestic life. He was, too, remarkably sensible to what he 
 enjoyed, and fully aware of the sources from which it flowed. 
 He was married with religious hopes ; and the last letter he 
 ever wrote, and one, which was written without any ap- 
 prehension of his approaching illness and death, bears wit- 
 ness, in a very remarkable manner, to their entire fulfilment. 
 Indeed, in all his relations with his own family, Mr. Haven 
 eminently enjoyed the peculiar happiness, which a Christian 
 should seek. For Christianity was not with him a thing of 
 forms and decencies. It was a pervading principle, which 
 entered into all his concerns, all his thoughts, all his hopes. 
 
xxviii MEMOIR. 
 
 He had no interests so strong or ambitious, that they were 
 not controlled by it ; no happiness so reserved, that relig- 
 ion was not a part of it. As the head of a family, in 
 particular, he devoted himself earnestly arid continually to 
 the religious instruction and improvement of his household 
 and dependents, drawing the tender minds of his children 
 early to God, and interesting their young and unoccupied 
 hearts, in those simple views of religion, which were suited 
 to their simple thoughts and years. Two beautiful and 
 promising children were, at different times, taken from him, 
 when his hopes and happiness in them were as full as a 
 father's ever were. He suffered on both occasions most 
 severely ; but each time, as soon as death had set the final 
 seal on his hopes, he collected his family, and, by religious 
 rites and religious persuasions, tranquillized their minds and 
 prepared them and himself to resume, at once, the ordinary 
 duties of life. But he never afterwards seemed to be sep- 
 arated in thought from the children he had thus lost ; and, 
 when speaking of them, evidently felt, as if they were only 
 removed to an adjacent apartment, where he should soon 
 and certainly rejoin them. Indeed, in all things and on all 
 occasions, in the even tenor of common enjoyments, in 
 sickness, in sorrow, and in death, whatever might occur, 
 his own spirit and the spirits of those nearest to him remain- 
 ed balanced by religious principle, or if they were disturb- 
 ed, were disturbed but for a moment ; and those who be- 
 came intimate in the circle, which his affection had gather- 
 ed round him, and which his gentleness retained under his 
 influence, felt, that it was good for them to be there. 
 
 Mr. Haven was, in truth, a religious man in all things. 
 In his opinions, which he had formed with great care, he 
 belonged undoubtedly to the class of those who are called 
 Liberal Christians, in distinction from the Calvinists ; and 
 
MEMOIR. xx i x 
 
 yet it is not probable, that his speculations would entirely 
 agree with those of the leaders in any sect ; for he was too 
 deeply and solemnly persuaded of his own personal respon- 
 sibility, to trust any part of his religious character to human 
 authority. He examined the Scriptures devoutly, in the un- 
 yielding spirit of Protestantism, and received with gladness 
 whatever he was persuaded had been taught by Jesus Christ 
 and his Apostles. His opinions, therefore, particularly on 
 the more doubtful points of speculation, were not, at every 
 period of his life, precisely the same, nor, at any period, 
 precisely like the opinions of those with whom he most as- 
 sociated. He, however, who pursues his Christian inqui- 
 ries with such candor and solemnity, is little likely to be im- 
 bued with the spirit of sectarism and controversy. Mr. 
 Haven was remarkably free from both ; and, in the latter 
 part of his life especially, he seemed to be further and fur- 
 ther removed from them. Desiring, as he did, above every 
 thing else, the improvement and elevation of the condition 
 and character of society, he stood on that high ground, 
 where party dissensions never reach, and where the desire 
 of proselyting men to a sect, is lost in the great and preva- 
 lent desire to make them wiser, and better, and happier. 
 Although he was much surrounded with controversy, there- 
 fore, Mr. Haven did not share its spirit. On the contrary, 
 he always delighted, amidst the conflicts of party, to dis- 
 cover how much of the contention was for words only ; and 
 his constant effort was not, to fortify himself in his own 
 opinions, however carefully and conscientiously formed, but 
 to enlarge that common ground, on which all Christians 
 may meet in confidence and charity. 
 
 Immediately after his marriage, he engaged again in the 
 practice of his profession. But he was not urged on by that 
 inevitable pecuniary necessity, which is, perhaps, a stimulus 
 
XXX MEMOIR. 
 
 needful for young lawyers ; and, therefore, did not apply 
 himself very earnestly to common business. To the affairs 
 of the poor and the unprotected, indeed, though ever so 
 humble, he gave unwearied attention ; and, perhaps, no one 
 of his age among us ever had charge of the concerns of so 
 many widows and orphans, for which he received no com- 
 pensation. Nearly the whole of such business, however, 
 was merely mechanical, and his mind was one, which could 
 not be satisfied without intellectual pursuits of a high order. 
 He turned, therefore, again to his books and to the more 
 difficult parts of his profession, giving them a great propor- 
 tion of his time, and studying the law as an elevated moral 
 science, worthy of the best efforts of his faculties. In this 
 way, he made himself a well read, sound, and able lawyer ; 
 but his practice, during the nine years he now gave to it, 
 was not extensive, and the literary studies he pursued, and 
 the literary projects he finally formed, prevented him from 
 being desirous much to enlarge it.* 
 
 But, though Mr. Haven's attention was not engrossed by 
 the common business of his profession, he did not become a 
 merely contemplative student, retired from the world and 
 from active usefulness. On the contrary, he devoted much 
 of the time, which was thus left at his command, to public 
 objects ; and especially showed himself always willing to 
 make exertions in favor of any thing which he thought 
 would tend to raise the religious, moral, and intellectual 
 condition of the whole mass of society in which his life was 
 to be passed. 
 
 * At the time of his death, Mr. Haven was making arrangements 
 to edite and publish an American Annual Register. In his hands, 
 such a work would have been of great value ; and might have 
 done for us what Do<lsley's Annual Register, in the hands of 
 Burke, did for Great Britain. 
 
MEMOIR. xxxi 
 
 Among these, none interested him more than a Sunday 
 school, established on the most liberal principles and destined 
 to exert a wide influence. He had become persuaded, by 
 personal intercourse with the poor, and by a familiarity with 
 their habits and condition, to which he had long been accus- 
 tomed, that much of the misery and vice of society is to be 
 traced to a neglect of moral and religious instruction of the 
 young, which he believed to be more gross and extensive than 
 is generally supposed. By his exertions, therefore, a Sunday 
 school was opened in 1818, depending for its support on the 
 society of the South Parish in Portsmouth, but receiving all 
 children, that chose to resort to it. It was filled at once. 
 The instructions were carefully adapted to the capacities and 
 wants of the individual children. They were given kindly 
 and with affectionate interest, by a large number of zealous 
 teachers ; and the children, in their turn, soon became inter- 
 ested both in their instructers and in what they were taught. 
 The effect upon society was visible in less than four years. 
 Children, who, at the beginning of that period, had been re- 
 ceived squalid and ignorant, and who would have remained 
 so, had been gradually led to become careful and thoughtful ; 
 while th ise, who came at first better prepared from their 
 domestic relations, had been carried onward faster and fur- 
 ther than they would have been by any merely domestic in- 
 structions. It was, indeed, an institution, humble in its pre- 
 tensions ; but one which diffused much improvement and 
 happiness, acting often on the characters of the parents hard- 
 ly less than on those of the pupils, and extending a valuable 
 influence even to the teachers themselves. Mr. Haven, in 
 particular, often said it had been useful to himself, and al- 
 ways took a strong interest in it. He gave much time, 
 which he greatly valued, in preparing himself for his les- 
 sons, which were sometimes of a character so elevated, that 
 
xxxii MEMOIR. 
 
 his faculties and knowledge were tasked to fulfil them ; * 
 but he had the happiness to live long enough to see several, 
 whom he had received into the school at its first opening, 
 and who had obtained in it their principal religious instruc- 
 tion, become, in their turn, its efficient teachers, and thus 
 prove the entire success of the system, while they, at the 
 same time, ensured its continuance. 
 
 Mr. Haven was interested in few things, during his life, 
 more than in this Sunday school. And this might well be 
 anticipated ; for the number of children, who received its 
 instructions, was very great ; and, though he had excellent 
 friends, who cooperated with him earnestly, he was himself 
 its moving and governing spirit. That he felt the respon- 
 sibility and was much excited by it to exertion, there can 
 be no doubt. His papers are full of it. There are many 
 prayers, that he offered up for it ; great numbers of memo- 
 randa, which he used in his instructions ; many hints for its 
 improvement and extension ; and an excellent practical "Ad- 
 dress," which he delivered before its teachers, to explain to 
 them their duties, and urge them to zeal and activity. Lot 
 me not, however, be misunderstood. Mr. Haven, it is true, 
 sometimes acted on larger masses of the community and in 
 more extensive relations ; but for efficient, practical useful- 
 ness, few persons have done more than he did in this hum- 
 ble school ; and the condition and character of a great 
 number of children, to whom, in the course of eight years, 
 
 * Mr. Haven made a great sacrifice, in giving- up his Sundays to 
 this school ; for he held it to be very important to make Sunday a 
 cheerful and happy day to his children and family, by giving him- 
 self up to them almost entirely. He rose earlier on this day than 
 on any other ; and read and conversed much with his children, to 
 whom he succeeded in rendering it, what it certainly always ought 
 to be, the happiest day in the week. 
 
MEMOIR. xxxiii 
 
 he patiently and discreetly communicated this best and most 
 unostentatious of charities, will long bear a witness to the 
 value of his services, which cannot be mistaken. 
 
 Another means used by Mr. Haven to produce a beneficial 
 effect on the community of which he was a member, was 
 the publication of a newspaper. Between 1821 and 1825 
 he edited " The Portsmouth Journal." Those who read that 
 paper, at the time it was under his care, will remember, how 
 sound were its general views of the questions that arose, and 
 how true, moderate, and consistent its editor was in the mode 
 of expressing them. If the same persons should now turn 
 over its files, they would, perhaps, be surprised to find, that 
 it contains so much political discussion applicable to all 
 times ; that its moral tone is so high and even bold, and its 
 literary taste and execution so pure ; and that the whole has 
 a character so much above that of common newspapers. 
 That Mr. Haven did much good by this unpretending labor, 
 no one, probably, will doubt ; but the labor itself was con- 
 stant and considerable, and, therefore, it is not remarkable, 
 that, having originally undertaken it for only four years, he 
 should, at the end of that time, finding himself much pressed 
 by other duties, have declined continuing it any further. 
 
 During a part of the period, in which he edited " The Ports- 
 mouth Journal," he represented his native town in the legis- 
 lature of New-Hampshire, being elected both in 1823 and 
 1824. The legislatures of the several states, it is true, are 
 too provincial in their character, and the subjects that come 
 before them are too local, to excite much permanent interest 
 or furnish frequent occasions for the developement of talent. 
 Mr. Haven, however, while he was in the legislature of 
 New-Hampshire, became advantageously known, and enjoy- 
 ed an extensive influence. He had a familiar acquaintance 
 with political economy, and the common subjects of legisla- 
 tion ; a minute knowledge of the different portions of the 
 E 
 
xxxiv MEMOIR. 
 
 state, and their different wants and interests ; but especially 
 he had great clearness and precision in his thoughts upon 
 all subjects, and a great facility in labor, so that he could easi- 
 ly bring his mind to act with effect upon whatever topic was 
 presented to it. As a speaker, he was distinguished, both 
 here and at the bar, by exactness in his conceptions and 
 statements ; an obvious and forcible order in his reasoning ; 
 and great plainness and simplicity of language and manner. 
 But he possessed what gave him more influence than elo- 
 quence or knowledge. He possessed a genuine benevolence 
 of disposition, and an entire purity of intention and integrity 
 of conduct, which, above every thing else, win the confi- 
 dence of a body of men, constituted like the best portions of 
 our state legislatures. 
 
 In the mean time, however, Mr. Haven was no less ac- 
 tively employed at home, in whatever would promote gener- 
 al improvement. He took a strong interest in the Ports- 
 mouth Athenaeum, considering large public libraries as 
 among the most immediate and pressing wants of the coun- 
 try, where the spirit of inquiry on important practical sub- 
 jects is constantly checked, from the absence of means 
 which are elsewhere provided in abundance and opened 
 freely. He was, also, much occupied about the schools, both 
 public and private, in Portsmouth, and labored with good 
 effect to extend their influence and raise their character ; 
 while, at the same time, his services and assistance were 
 asked by the persons having the control of Exeter Academy, 
 to increase the usefulness and efficiency of that ancient insti- 
 tution. But, at this particular period, perhaps, it should be 
 observed, that he was much interested in the management 
 of an association of young men, formed for the purpose of 
 literary discussion and forensic debate. This association 
 was organized in 1821, and embraced among its members 
 about sixty persons of different occupations in life, thus ex- 
 
MEMOIR. xxxv 
 
 tending its benefits to all classes of society capable of shar- 
 ing in its pursuits. Its form and character were given to it 
 chiefly by Mr. Haven, who was its presiding officer, with 
 the exception of a short interval, from its foundation till his 
 death. The members met once a fortnight, alternately or- 
 ganizing themselves as a legislative body, preserving all the 
 forms of public business, for the discussion of subjects of 
 political and public interest ; and, as a literary body, for the 
 discussion of matters of philosophical speculation, historical 
 inquiry, and subjects presupposing taste and general cultiva- 
 tion. It was an institution, in which Mr. Haven took a 
 strong interest. As its president, it was his duty to sum up 
 the arguments on each side of the discussion that had been 
 held, and give his own views before it was submitted to the 
 final vote. In doing this, he showed a singularly happy 
 power of disincumbering the subject of unimportant or irrel- 
 evant details, and presenting with such clearness and pre- 
 cision the real points at issue, that the question was gener- 
 ally decided with little hesitation, at last, however perplex- 
 ing might have been the doubts excited during its debate. 
 Most men, placed in his situation, would probably have 
 considered all their duties to the society fulfilled by a faith- 
 ful discharge of their labors in the chair. But Mr. Haven 
 preferred, besides, to take upon himself the additional duties 
 of common membership. In this way, he sustained a more 
 than equal part in the usual exercises of the association, 
 mingling freely in its debates, and joining with particular 
 preference and success in the discussion of points connected 
 with political economy, public law, history, and literary crit- 
 icism. That his influence on the society was valuable can- 
 not be doubted, for the same high motives governed him 
 here, that governed him elsewhere ; and so was the socie- 
 ty's influence on him. His own social and kind feelings 
 were cultivated by the intercourse it afforded him with 
 
xxxv i MEMOIR. 
 
 those of his own age ; the intellectual pursuits, in which he 
 so much delighted, were promoted in others, who, but for 
 this institution, might not have shared their benefits ; an el- 
 evated moral feeling and a deep respect for religion were 
 impressed on the thoughtlessness of youth, by the turn he 
 often or generally gave the discussions ; and, in more than 
 one instance, he enjoyed the satisfaction of drawing forth 
 talent and cherishing its developement, where its existence 
 was hardly suspected even by its possessor. In this associa- 
 tion, indeed, he was doing, in some measure, for the young 
 men, with whom it connected him, what he was doing else- 
 where for the children ; and it was undoubtedly a great 
 source of happiness to him, that he had an opportunity, thus 
 to fulfil one of the most important duties, that any man is 
 permitted to perform to society. 
 
 While Mr. Haven was busily occupied in these interest- 
 ing pursuits, the spring of 1823 completed the second cen- 
 tury from the first landing of the merchant-adventurers, who 
 founded the little colony on the Piscataqua, which has since 
 become the state of New-Hampshire ; and a general wish 
 was expressed, that the recollections this anniversary was so 
 well calculated to awaken, should be renewed and strength- 
 ened in the minds of men, by some public and solemn com- 
 memoration. Following a no less general indication of the 
 public feeling, the Historical Society of New-Hampshire 
 desired Mr. Haven to deliver an address in Portsmouth on 
 the twenty-first of May. He did so. The town was throng- 
 ed with visiters from different parts of the state, who, with 
 many distinguished individuals from Massachusetts and 
 Maine, were drawn thither by so happy an occasion for the 
 interchange of good will and friendly congratulations. Mr. 
 Haven fully satisfied the expectation, which had waited on 
 this fortunate anniversary. He discussed, with a simple 
 and persuasive eloquence, the characters of the founders of 
 
MEMOIR. XXXvii 
 
 that ancient colony, as Englishmen, as merchant-adventur- 
 ers, and as Puritans ; and showed what effects the elements 
 of society, they brought with them, had already produced, 
 and what effects they ought still further to produce, as the 
 destinies of the country shall be further unfolded. He was 
 listened to with a proud regard by the community, at whose 
 intimation he spoke, and with flattering interest by the 
 strangers, who had come to join in the general jubilee ; and 
 the impression he left that day on the minds of men, was 
 one which his native state may always be proud to cherish. 
 
 The last two years of Mr. Haven's life, were passed, like 
 those that had preceded them, in active and happy useful- 
 ness. Perhaps, he retired more than he had before done 
 from the mechanical labors of his profession, still seeking 
 higher studies and pursuits, and looking round for wider 
 means of active exertion. This might, indeed, have been 
 expected from the whole course and tendency of his mind 
 and character, and from an increased consciousness of his 
 own powers, which had every year been more developed 
 by a wise and benevolent use of them. But still, though 
 his horizon was constantly growing wider and wider, as he 
 rose, he neither forgot nor neglected the humbler duties and 
 occupations, which had so long constituted much of his hap- 
 piness, and by which his character had, in no small degree, 
 been formed for the higher success, to which he now seem- 
 ed surely destined. 
 
 But, in the midst of the confident expectations of his friends 
 and of the community, he was suddenly taken from them. 
 Being in New- York, in May, 1826, on business, he heard of 
 the sickness of his children. He hastened instantly back, 
 and reached Portsmouth on Wednesday the twenty-fourth, 
 having been less than two days on the way. He found four 
 of his children ill with an epidemical complaint in the throat. 
 Perhaps he himself had left home with a tendency to the 
 
xxxviii MEMOIR. 
 
 same disease, from the same causes that had brought it into 
 his family. At any rate, on the Saturday after his return, 
 he was seized with it. The attack was violent, and never, 
 for a moment, yielded to the most active medicines, which, 
 in the conflict, seemed to lose their accustomed power. 
 From the nature of the disease, his reason was early affect- 
 ed by it. Of this he was conscious, and made the greater 
 effort to collect and compose his thoughts. At first, he suc- 
 ceeded, and spoke of the objects that had most interested 
 him in life, and of the hopes and principles that had gov- 
 erned him, with the unwavering confidence he had felt, 
 when his health seemed the strongest and most sure. Even 
 when his mind wandered, religious feelings, attachment to 
 his friends, and the desire of doing good still maintained 
 their accustomed ascendency. But it was soon apparent, 
 that the conflict could not be long continued, and, shortly 
 afterwards, his reason failed altogether. His friends saw, 
 that his separation from them was near ; and those, who 
 were connected with him through his public services, learn- 
 ed, that they were to lose a supporter, who had long been 
 foremost in whatever concerned the common improvement. 
 The expression of anxiety and sympathy, throughout the 
 community, was remarkable. The very children, as they 
 passed his house, stepped lightly, and were hushed from 
 their sports ; and men, in the resorts of business, spoke anx- 
 iously to each other, when they talked of their coming loss. 
 He died, on the third of June, after an illness of eight days ; 
 and when he was buried, on the following Tuesday, the 
 principal stores and shops in the town were shut ; a testi- 
 mony of public sorrow, which has hardly been given to any 
 one among us, who died so young, or to any one, who had 
 borne so small a part in those affairs of the times, which 
 most agitate men's personal interests and passions. 
 
MEMOIR. xxxix 
 
 And what was it, that made Mr. Haven's death such a loss 
 not to his friends only, but to an extensive community ? For 
 his personal appearance and address were neither uncommon- 
 ly striking, nor uncommonly prepossessing. His talents could 
 hardly be called brilliant, and certainly were not showy. He 
 had less than almost any man, of that love of popularity and 
 distinction, which so often obtains, because it solicits, general 
 favor and regard. And he died young, at the early age of 
 thirty-six, when most men have but just begun to render 
 those services to society, which secure public confidence 
 and gratitude. How was it, then, under these circumstances, 
 that Mr. Haven had gathered around him so many friends, 
 made himself the centre of so many differing interests, and 
 come to fill so large a space in whatever concerns the gen- 
 eral welfare, that his death brought with it a sense of be- 
 reavement, which was felt through all classes of society ? It- 
 was, because he possessed originally fine powers of mind, 
 which, under a strong and prevalent sense of religious re- 
 sponsibility and by constant and faithful exercise, had been 
 so unfolded and enlarged, that, as he was more widely 
 known, the hopes and confidence of men resorted to him 
 more and more, until they had come to feel, that he was al- 
 ready important to the best interests of the society, with 
 which he was connected ; while, at the same time, they look- 
 ed forward to his growing influence and resources, as to a 
 possession, which would certainly be used for their own ben- 
 efit and that of their children. For it was deeply felt, that 
 Mr. Haven had devoted his life to the best and highest in- 
 terests of society, and had shown, even in youth, that he 
 could contribute much to their advancement. To this end, 
 it was obvious, all his relations in life had gradually tended, 
 and all his efforts had become directed. At home, in the 
 quiet and confiding circle of his domestic happiness, the prin- 
 ciple of duty and the desire of improvement, though neither 
 
xl MEMOIR. 
 
 ostentatious nor burthensome, had still been perceptible 
 above all others. In his intercourse with numerous family 
 connexions, and still more numerous personal friends, the 
 same influence had always surrounded him, and his religious 
 character especially had wrought with the silent force of 
 example, most effectually when least obtrusive ; while, in 
 the management of professional business, in the discussion 
 of public interests, and in the use of means for promoting 
 the progress of society, his motives had always been open 
 and respected, and the power of the community had been 
 freely lent to him ; because all with whom he had been as- 
 sociated, felt, that he would use it only for the general wel- 
 fare. Every year, therefore, as it passed by, had been 
 adding to his influence and consideration, until, at last, his 
 talents, not one of which had been suffered to rust in him 
 unused, had, by their wise and benevolent employment, be- 
 come so balanced, and the different powers of his character 
 had become so harmoniously adjusted to each other, that men 
 felt a sober and settled confidence in him, which they do not 
 often feel even for the genius they most admire, or the en- 
 thusiasm by which they are most willingly persuaded. His 
 death, therefore, was, indeed, a great loss, and was deeply 
 and widely felt. He was mourned for, by the community, 
 as men mourn over their personal losses and sorrows ; and 
 the crowd of those whose best interests he had so devoted- 
 ly served, felt, as they turned back from his grave, that they 
 should long look anxiously round, before they could find 
 one to fill the place he had left vacant ; and still longer, be- 
 fore they could find one, who would accomplish the yet 
 greater hopes they had trusted to him for the future, with a 
 fond and undoubting confidence. 
 
ORATIONS. 
 
ORATION 
 
 DELIVERED AT PORTSMOUTH, MAY 21, 1823, TWO HUN- 
 DRED YEARS FROM THE LANDING OF THE FIRST SET- 
 TLERS. 
 
 Two hundred years ago, the place on which we stand 
 was an uncultivated forest. The rough and vigorous soil 
 was still covered with the stately trees, which had been, for 
 ages, intermingling their branches and deepening the shade. 
 The river, which now bears on its bright and pure waters 
 the treasures of distant climates, and whose rapid current is 
 stemmed and vexed by the arts and enterprise of man, then 
 only rippled against the rocks, and reflected back the wild 
 and grotesque thickets which overhung its banks. The 
 mountain, which now swells on our left and raises its ver- 
 dant side " shade above shade," was then almost concealed 
 by the lofty growth which covered the intervening plains. 
 Behind us, a deep morass, extending across to the northern 
 creek, almost enclosed the little " Bank," which is now the 
 seat of so much life and industry. It was then a wild and 
 tangled thicket, interspersed with venerable trees and moss- 
 grown rocks, and presenting, here and there, a sunny space 
 covered with the blossoms and early fruit of the little plant, 
 
4 CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 that gave it its name. This " Bank " so wild and rude, two 
 hundred years ago, was first impressed with the step of civ- 
 ilized man. 
 
 The influence of local association is strong and universal. 
 There is no one who has not felt it ; and if it were possible, 
 it would be useless, to withdraw the mind from its effects. 
 We owe many of our deepest emotions, our highest and 
 most ennobling feelings, to the suggestions of external na- 
 ture. The place, which has been distinguished by the resi- 
 dence of one whom we love and admire, kindles in our 
 minds a thousand conceptions which we can scarcely ana- 
 lyse or describe. The moral beauty of character and sen- 
 timent is insensibly blended with the beauty of natural 
 scenery; memory and fancy, alike excited, pass from one 
 object to another, and form combinations of beauty and 
 grandeur, softened and shaded by time and distance, but 
 having enough of life and freshness to awaken our feelings 
 and hold undisputed dominion of our hearts. Here, then, 
 let us indulge our emotions. On this spot our Forefathers 
 trod. Here their energy and perseverance, their calm 
 self-possession and practical vigor, were first called into ac- 
 tion. Here they met and overcame difficulties, which 
 would have overpowered the imagination, or subdued the 
 fortitude of ordinary men. All that we see around us are 
 memorials of their worth. It was their enterprise that open- 
 ed a path for us over the waters. It was their energy that 
 subdued the forest. They founded our institutions. They 
 communicated to us our love of freedom. They gave us 
 the impulse that made us what we are. It cannot then be 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. 5 
 
 useless to live along the generations that have passed, and 
 endeavour to identify ourselves with those who have gone 
 before us. Who and what were they, who thus fill our 
 imaginations, and as they rise before us, bring to our minds 
 so many recollections of high sentiment, and steady fortitude, 
 and sober enthusiasm ? In what school were they formed ? 
 and what favorable circumstances impressed upon them 
 that character of enduring energy, which even their present 
 descendants may claim as their best inheritance ? The an- 
 swer to these questions is the subject to which your atten- 
 tion will be directed. 
 
 The character of individuals is always influenced, in a 
 greater or less degree, by that of the nation in which 
 they live. Sometimes, indeed, a great genius appears, who 
 seems not to belong either to his age, or country ; as a sun- 
 ny day in winter will sometimes swell the buds and call 
 forth the early flowers, as if it belonged to a milder season, 
 or happier climate. But in general, to form an accurate 
 opinion of the character of an individual, it becomes neces- 
 sary to estimate that of his nation, at the time in which he 
 lived. Our ancestors were Englishmen; were Merchant- 
 adventurers ; were Puritans. The elements of their char- 
 acter are therefore to be found in the national character of 
 England, modified in the individuals by the pursuits of com- 
 merce, and the profession of an austere but ennobling form 
 of religion. 
 
 At the time of the first settlement of this country, the 
 government of England was very nearly an absolute monar- 
 chy. Though the form of a Parliament existed, it possess- 
 
6 CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 ed but little power or influence; and its effect upon the 
 public administration was scarcely perceptible. The great 
 mass of the people, indeed, considered monarchy, simple 
 and unmixed, as their established government. But notwith- 
 standing this theoretical despotism, and even frequent instan- 
 ces of practical tyranny, there were, at that time, circum- 
 stances in the situation of England that distinguished her fa- 
 vorably from other countries. The long and pacific reign of 
 James the First had increased the wealth of the nation. 
 The numerous gentry, finding no employment in war, and 
 little allurement at court, which was neither splendid nor 
 gay, were scattered through the country, where they at once 
 improved their fortunes and nourished a sense of personal 
 independence. The mere want of excitement was begin- 
 ning at this time to turn their attention towards Parliament ; 
 where they soon proved themselves to be formidable oppos- 
 ers of the crown. It was only two years before the founda- 
 tion of this colony, that the English House of Commons first 
 asserted their right to freedom of speech. But though Eng- 
 land presented externally the same appearance of regal 
 supremacy with the neighbouring States, there were causes 
 even then at work, which were destined to limit and even 
 subdue the royal power. 
 
 Among nations, in any degree civilized, resistance to 
 established authority rarely takes place, without being pro- 
 voked by some unusual acts of oppression. There is a nat- 
 ural love among mankind for the institutions of their fathers ; 
 and men become attached even to a despotic government 
 under which they were born, as they learn for the same 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. 7 
 
 reason to love even a barren soil, and an inclement sky. 
 Happily for us, in the reigns of Elizabeth and James, the 
 oppressive acts of the government were both numerous and 
 unusual. They were sufficient to arouse the attention, with- 
 out subduing the courage of the people. 
 
 The warlike spirit, which had been nurtured by so many 
 ages of civil dissension, still lingered in the hearts of Eng- 
 lishmen. They were still active, brave, and enterprising. 
 The religious persecutions in France and the Low Coun- 
 tries had filled England with little colonies of industrious 
 and intelligent men, who had abandoned every thing for lib- 
 erty of conscience ; and who brought with them and diffus- 
 ed around them their arts and enterprise, their love of lib- 
 erty and religious zeal. These men were the precursors 
 of the Pyms, Hampdens, and Vanes of the succeeding gen- 
 eration. Their example and influence added much to the 
 spirit of independence that was beginning to pervade the 
 middle orders of the people. The grand struggle against 
 arbitrary power, which was made in the reign of Charles 
 the First, and which brought that ill-fated monarch to the 
 block, can be distinctly traced back through the reigns of James 
 and Elizabeth to the dawnings of the reformation under Hen- 
 ry the Eighth, Like our own revolution, that struggle was 
 not an insulated event, not a sudden explosion of passion or 
 caprice, but a necessary consequence of the progress of hu- 
 man improvement. In 1623, the English character had 
 already received the impulse which has carried it forward 
 against so many opposing obstacles. The human mind 
 " was putting forth its energies, exalted by a pure religion, 
 
8 CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 and enlarged by new views of truth." It was an age of ex- 
 citement and adventure. There was in the character of the 
 people a mixture of romantic fancy and practical heroism, 
 that, when excited by the religious controversies of the times, 
 rendered them capable of every thing that was great and 
 daring in action or suffering. Notwithstanding the vices of 
 the government, it was, in 1 623, a proud distinction to be an 
 Englishman. It was from this people, that our ancestors 
 came. The scion was cut from the tree, not indeed at its 
 full maturity covered with leaves and fruit, but at a far more 
 favorable season, when the bark was green, and the buds 
 swelling, and the energies of nature working at the root. 
 The first settlement at Piscataquack differs from that of 
 the neighbouring colonies of Plymouth and the Massachu^ 
 setts, in the commercial spirit in which it was undertaken. 
 Winslow, Carver, and Bradford, and those other worthies of 
 the Old Colony, whose names should stand higher on the 
 rolls of fame than the founders of the Grecian Republics, 
 came to this wilderness merely to enjoy liberty of con- 
 science. They were, many of them, men of fortune and let- 
 ters, who sought in this new world only an asylum for their 
 persecuted church. Our ancestors were of humbler rank ; 
 and yet perhaps no less worthy of commemoration. They 
 were generally of the class, denominated in the reign of 
 Elizabeth, Merchant-adventurers ; that is, men who traded in 
 foreign countries upon capital furnished them by merchants 
 at home. They were, of course, the most active and intel- 
 ligent and enterprising of the commercial class. They 
 united in their habits the hardihood and daring spirit of the 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. 9 
 
 mariner, with the keen sagacity and practised skill of the 
 merchant. It is not necessary for me to describe the char- 
 acter formed by commercial pursuits. It is generally a libe- 
 ral one. It is scarcely possible to be engaged in foreign 
 trade, without learning something of the manners, and hab- 
 its, and laws of other nations, and thus wearing off some of 
 the petty prejudices and illiberal opinions that cling to all, 
 whose horizon is bounded by the little spot they inhabit. 
 It is apparent that the first settlers of New-Hampshire 
 partook largely of the spirit of the class to which they be- 
 longed. Gibbins was a man of large views, and strong prac- 
 tical sense; while Hilton, Wiggin, and Chadbourne dis- 
 played that unceasing industry, dexterity, and quickness of 
 resource, which are among the most prominent traits of the 
 commercial character. 
 
 And here permit me to dwell for a moment on the char- 
 acter and conduct of one, whose name for many years was 
 peculiarly obnoxious to the inhabitants of this state. I 
 mean John Mason, the original proprietor. He was, at 
 first, a merchant; but he afterward engaged in the naval 
 service of his country, in which he acquired distinction ; for 
 on the peace with Spain in 1604, he was rewarded with the 
 government of Newfoundland, and on his return to England 
 was made governor of Portsmouth, in New-Hampshire. Pos- 
 sessing a vigorous mind, and imbued deeply with the spirit of 
 romantic adventure, so common in that age, he was scarcely 
 admitted a member of " the Council of Plymouth for the 
 planting, ruling and governing of New England," before he 
 embarked his whole fortune in the cause. In the various 
 
10 CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 grants, from the council, of lands about the Piscataqua, which 
 he and his associates received, it was plainly the understand- 
 ing of all parties that the soil was conveyed. When therefore 
 he had expended upon this settlement at least ten thousand 
 pounds, in vessels and provisions, in articles of merchandise 
 and instruments of husbandry, it was not unreasonable that 
 he should look for some return ; nor unnatural that he 
 should regard all the occupants of the soil as his tenants. 
 He resided in England, where the feudal notions of the 
 permanent nature of property in land, still existed in all 
 their vigor. And as wages had been paid to the first colo- 
 nists, he naturally regarded them as agents employed in the 
 improvement of his estate. But the colonists soon began 
 to persuade themselves that their labors and sufferings in 
 the settlement of the country, gave them a right to the soil 
 they occupied ; and this opinion was fortified and confirmed 
 by the state of property in the neighbouring colonies of Mas- 
 sachusetts and Plymouth. When, therefore, rent was de- 
 manded of them, for lands which they had reclaimed from a 
 state of nature, and measures were taken to eject them from 
 their dwellings to enforce its payment, all their passions 
 were awakened, they resisted to a man, they combined 
 together, and by continual struggles, at length succeeded 
 in confirming their own title. No occurrence in the whole 
 history of the colony, from its first establishment to the com- 
 mencement of the Revolution, so deeply affected and agitated 
 the minds of the people. It was, in their apprehension, a 
 struggle not only for property, but for liberty* And what- 
 ever opinion may now be entertained of the means employ- 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. u 
 
 ed to ensure success, we cannot but rejoice that the colo- 
 nists gained the victory, that they made themselves and 
 their posterity lords of the soil, instead of remaining the 
 tenants of a distant proprietor. Yet, now that the contest is 
 over, now that passion and feeling have subsided, if we 
 examine the question impartially, we shall find that, like 
 most other controversies, there is an appearance of equity 
 on both sides. Mason was, undoubtedly, a benefactor to the 
 colony. It owes to him its first establishment ; and it is in- 
 debted to him for the first materials of that commerce, which 
 has ever since been among the principal causes of it pros- 
 perity. In fine, in reviewing his whole conduct towards the 
 colony, and judging of his pretensions by the law of Eng- 
 land as then established, he was a man "more sinned 
 against than sinning." 
 
 But though the views of the first settlers of this colony 
 were merely commercial, they were most of them Puritans. 
 The first churches they organized, with the exception pos- 
 sibly of the little chapel for Gibson on Strawberry Bank, 
 were on the Puritan model ; and even before the union with 
 Massachusetts in 1641, the settlements upon this river were 
 assuming the form of religious colonies. This is particular- 
 ly true of Dover ; some of the first settlers of which are de- 
 scribed as " men of some account in religion ; " and whose 
 first minister, William Leverich, was distinguished among the 
 Puritan churches before his removal to this country. Of 
 these Puritans, as they existed in England, from their first 
 separation in 1566, I find it difficult to speak in adequate 
 language. That they were men of profound learning, of 
 
12 CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 unblemished morals, of heart-felt piety ; that they possess- 
 ed a knowledge of the Scriptures that has never been sur- 
 passed, and that they understood in a wonderful degree its 
 practical application to all the workings of the human heart 
 and the varied incidents of human life, will scarcely be de- 
 nied. I readily admit, that with this knowledge of religion, 
 there were mingled many strange and enthusiastic opinions ; 
 that their ardor for religious truth was often inflamed into a 
 fierce and intolerant zeal ; that their love of freedom, in 
 its wild and impetuous course, often swept away all form, 
 and precedent, and law. Yet, with all their faults and errors, 
 and they were full of them, the whole history of the world 
 cannot present a body of men to be compared with the 
 English Puritans. Religion, always a principle of energy, 
 was with them the spring of every action. Hence there was 
 no coldness, no feebleness in their characters. Accustomed 
 to " thoughts that wander through eternity," they had a lof- 
 ty contempt of the common pursuits and motives of human 
 life, which though it sometimes became a morbid exaltation 
 of character and feeling, yet led them to make continually, 
 without effort, and almost without consciousness, the most 
 heroic sacrifices. Where any principle of religion was con- 
 cerned, or any practice was in question that raised the slightest 
 scruple of conscience, they disdained alike life and death, and 
 trampled in their scorn upon every thing of power, or wealth, 
 or glory, that the world could offer. It has been said with 
 truth, that " none can aspire to act greatly, but those who 
 are of force greatly to suffer." The English Puritans did 
 suffer much ; and they suffered greatly. In all their trials, 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. 13 
 
 there was a calm self-possession, a moral grandeur, a sus- 
 tained energy. In their stern contempt of danger and suf- 
 fering, there was no relenting weakness. They endured 
 pain, because they despised it. 
 
 It has been usual to treat with ridicule the immediate 
 cause of their separation from the church of England. It 
 has been said, that they were weak men to ascribe so much 
 importance to trifles; that they were obstinate men to 
 contend so earnestly about things indifferent in themselves. 
 But it was the principle, for which they struggled. They 
 have the same merit with Hampden, who resisted the petty 
 imposition of ship-money ; the same with the patriots of 
 our revolution, who refused to submit to a paltry tax upon 
 tea. Had not Hooper, Humphreys, and Sampson persever- 
 ed in refusing the papal garments, even when urged upon 
 them by the whole power of the civil government ; had 
 they not resisted, at the outset, the first encroachments of 
 ecclesiastical tyranny, it is probable the Reformation would 
 never have been established in England. Neither Henry the 
 Eighth, nor Elizabeth, intended any reformation from the 
 corruptions of Popery. They felt the inconvenience of a 
 foreign ecclesiastical tribunal, and they coveted the wealth 
 and patronage of the church. But the only reformation 
 they intended, was to make the sovereign of England the su- 
 preme pontiff, instead of the bishop of Rome. The Puri- 
 tans therefore were the real reformers of England ; and it is 
 to their salutary influence that the church of England is in- 
 debted for her present Protestant character. She has 
 gradually reformed in her liturgy and discipline almost every 
 thing that was objected to by the early Puritans. 
 
14 CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 But it is to their political character, that I wish chiefly to 
 call your attention. It is charged upon the Puritans by a 
 modern English writer, " that they were essentially, and at 
 heart, republicans ; " and this charge we glory in confessing. 
 They were republicans, and this spirit may be traced back 
 to the reformation itself. I do not use language too strong, 
 when I affirm, that all of civil liberty that is now to be found 
 in the world, is to be ascribed to the impulse given to the 
 human mind by the reformation of Luther. The grand 
 principle of the reformation was the right of private judg- 
 ment in matters of religion. This right the first reformers 
 always claimed for themselves, how much soever they might, 
 in the imperfection of their views, deny it to others. Reli- 
 gion is naturally and necessarily the most interesting subjecj 
 of human thought. It embraces in its wide extent the whole 
 circle of moral duties. It regards us in all our social relations, 
 and is connected with all the cares and business of common 
 life. But it stops not here. It carries us forward to that 
 dark and shadowy futurity, which the mind of man has, in 
 every age, been anxious to explore, but which it has always 
 shuddered to enter. It bears us upward through the suns 
 and systems of this material world to the throne of that Be- 
 ing, in whose presence all the distinctions of human life are 
 destroyed, at whose glance the world itself " fleeth away as 
 a shadow." There, the mind feels itself alone. It is over- 
 whelmed by a sense of its personal accountableness. It 
 gains no support, it acquires no confidence, from the opin- 
 ions, or usages, or authority of its fellow-mortals. It must 
 act for itself. It feels that its destiny through the intermina- 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. 15 
 
 ble ages of its duration, and in the unseen worlds through 
 which it may be carried in the progress of its existence, is 
 far too important to be intrusted to others. When the mind 
 descends from these sublime contemplations, and returns to 
 the ordinary duties of life, it bears with it still the impres- 
 sion of its recent employment. It retains something of its 
 purity, and elevation, and self-respect. Having just disclaim- 
 ed human authority in its most important concerns, it is not 
 prepared to yield implicit obedience to the caprices of hu- 
 man power in the common affairs of life. He who, in con- 
 templating the Supreme Being, has just felt that crowns and 
 sceptres are vain and transitory honors, that personal merit 
 makes the only real distinction, is not prepared for slavish 
 submission to a human monarch, or to cower and tremble at 
 a human frown. The spirit of Protestant Christianity is 
 therefore essentially a free spirit. 
 
 Do you ask for a further illustration of this principle ? Go 
 then to the bigoted and enslaved Spaniard. Teach him 
 that the Bible is the only standard of Christian faith. Show 
 him the chains, which the artifices of a corrupt and ambi- 
 tious priesthood have prepared for his understanding. Re- 
 move the rubbish of creeds, and confessions, and established 
 forms. Convince him that he is answerable only to God 
 for his religious faith, and that his opinions on this important 
 subject must be formed under a sense of personal accounta- 
 bleness ; and when you have thus enlightened him, when 
 he has rescued himself from the iron grasp of an unrelenting 
 superstition, when he has turned his back upon the altar of 
 his past idolatry, think you he is advancing to crouch before 
 
16 CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 a throne ? Oh no ! The spirit of religious freedom which led 
 him to examine the foundations of his faith, has taught him 
 also to inquire into his civil rights. When once he has 
 shaken off the influence of authority in matters of religion, 
 he holds in little esteem the antiquated usages and venera- 
 ble errors of civil government. 
 
 I would not be understood to mean, that in the case of in- 
 dividuals, religious freedom must necessarily precede the ac- 
 quisition, or the love of civil liberty. But in fact it has gen- 
 erally preceded it in the progress of nations. The chains of 
 superstition are the strongest that tyranny can forge ; ana 1 
 when they are shaken off, the mind regains its vigor, it 
 stands erect and independent. Even Hume, who in the 
 cause of the Puritans was no partial friend, is constrained to 
 admit " that whatever spark of liberty we have remaining to 
 us, is owing to the Puritans alone." In the cruel and capri- 
 cious reign of Henry the Eighth, it was Tyndal, and Coverdale, 
 and Rogers, some of whose descendants are even now pres- 
 ent, and whose hearts should leap with exultation at the 
 worth of their ancestors, it was they, who were the cham- 
 pions of freedom, as well as the martyrs of religion. In 
 the reign of Elizabeth, so undeservedly praised by the ma- 
 jority of English historians, it was Penry, Barrow, and 
 Greenwood, who, in asserting the right of dissent from the 
 established church, contended for those principles of civil 
 liberty, which we now claim as our birth-right. 
 
 Such then were the men from whom we derive our ori- 
 gin ; and such were the circumstances which impressed up- 
 on them that peculiar character, which, it is hoped the lapse 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. n 
 
 of two centuries has not yet obliterated. We may justly be 
 proud of such a descent ; for no ancestry in the world is 
 half so illustrious, as the Puritan founders of New England. 
 It is not merely that they were good men, and religious men, 
 exhibiting in their lives an example of purity and temper- 
 ance, and active virtue, such as no other community in the 
 world could present ; but they possessed the dazzling qualities 
 of human greatness. Do we love to dwell upon scenes of 
 romantic adventure? Does our imagination kindle at the 
 thought of distant enterprise, among a strange people, ex- 
 posed to constant and unusual peril ? Do we turn with de- 
 light to those bold and heroic achievements which call forth 
 the energy of our nature, and by that deep excitement which 
 belongs to the hopes and hazards of war, awaken us to a 
 new consciousness of existence ? All this is found in the his- 
 tory of our ancestors. They were heroes, as well as Pil- 
 grims, and nothing is wanting but the pen of genius to make 
 their prowess and adventures the theme of a world's admi- 
 ration. 
 
 But here was the scene of their earthly toils. This spot 
 was consecrated by their labors and sufferings. Perhaps 
 their spirits still linger among us. Perhaps they are here, 
 conscious beings, ministering to our progress, and rejoicing 
 in our gladness. Could they now be made visible to mortal 
 eye, and stand among us ; engaged with us in reviewing the 
 past, and tracing along the progress of time and events to 
 the present hour, how would they describe our present con- 
 dition and character ? With what wonder would they speak 
 of the progress of improvement ! Even those Merchant 
 
 3 
 
IS CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 adventurers, who two hundred years ago came from Lon- 
 don, just then beginning to assume its rank as the commer- 
 cial capital of the world, would speak with surprise and de- 
 light of those glorious monuments of human art those lofty 
 ships, which almost every breeze wafts to our river ; but to 
 what admiration would their feelings be exalted in viewing 
 those stupendous vessels, which are designed to carry our 
 nation's strength to the remotest seas, and which impress 
 England herself, in the pride of her naval glory, with respect 
 for our power and skill. If they passed up the river to the 
 fertile spot which Hilton and Waldron selected for their set- 
 tlement, and inquired if the descendants of those West- 
 Country adventurers retained the knowledge of arts and 
 manufactures which their ancestors must have learned in 
 England, could their astonishment be expressed in witness- 
 ing the triumph of human ingenuity arid the wonders of me- 
 chanical skill, which would there be shown them ? When they 
 cast their eyes over the country which, even at their deaths, 
 they left rough and unsubdued, scarcely yielding to them a 
 scanty subsistence, and beheld the picture of human comfort 
 and human happiness which it every where presents, would 
 they confess that their brightest anticipations of the fortune 
 of their descendants exceeded the reality ? But they would 
 inquire of our character, of our moral and intellectual im- 
 provement. They would ask if our progress had been equal 
 to our advantages ? And here, though we might dwell with 
 just pride upon many circumstances in our character as a 
 people, there are others which we should wish, if possible, 
 to conceal from their view. We could speak with con- 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. A g 
 
 fidence of the liberality of our institutions, of our freedom 
 from the superstitions and prejudices of former ages. We 
 could in enterprise, and hardihood, and manliness of spirit, 
 claim to be the equals of our fathers. We could point to our 
 public schools, as a noble monument of public spirit and lib- 
 erality. We could present our college and our numerous 
 academies to their scrutiny, and fearlessly challenge their 
 approbation. We could produce examples of literary and 
 professional exertion, which would prove that we had not 
 faltered in intellectual improvement, behind the progress of 
 the age. But if they questioned us of our Puritan habits, of 
 our temperance, of our zeal to avail ourselves of the advan- 
 tages of education, we should be obliged reluctantly to con- 
 fess that our virtues had not equalled the virtues of our 
 fathers. 
 
 Yet with all her faults, and I would neither extenuate nor 
 deny them, we may rejoice, that we are natives of New- 
 Hampshire. I would not yield precedence for my native 
 State, in all that constitutes the worth of political associa- 
 tions, to the proudest realm that ever advanced its preten- 
 sions in the great community of nations. Nay more, I would 
 not yield precedence for New-Hampshire, in enterprise and 
 manly virtue, in love of liberty, in talents, in the wisdom and 
 liberality of her institutions, in every thing that constitutes 
 the peculiar excellence of the American character, to the 
 most exalted of her sister states. Let me not be thought ar- 
 rogant in assuming firmly this ground. While we yield prece- 
 dence to none, we claim it from none. The very character 
 of our soil and climate must make our people hardy, athletic. 
 
20 CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 and brave. It is a country of labor ; of constant, unceas- 
 ing exertion. The bounties of nature are indeed scattered 
 around us with a liberal hand 5 but they are offered only to 
 labor. Hence the very necessities of our situation impress 
 us with a character of mental energy. From the first occu- 
 pation of the country to the present time, we have had an 
 unbroken succession of resolute and undaunted men, devot- 
 ed to their country, proud of their privileges, and zealous in 
 their defence. The zeal which animated Waldron, Picker- 
 ing, and Vaughan in their contests with Mason, continued 
 long after to glow in the hearts of Weare, Bartlett, Lang- 
 don, and Oilman, when exerted in a nobler cause. The 
 chivalrous spirit and martial gallantry, which made Lovewell 
 and Bickford so formidable to the Indians, burned with 
 new vigor in Cilley, JVP Clary, and Scammel ; in Reid and 
 Poor ; in Sullivan and Stark. The devotion to the inter- 
 ests of the province, which distinguished Wentworth and 
 Sherburne, Penhallow and Rindge, has been found in thou- 
 sands of others, who, like them, were ready to devote their 
 time and labor to the service of the state. In the pursuits 
 of science and professional skill, New-Hampshire has at 
 least kept on the level of the age. We still hear of the clas- 
 sical erudition of Parker, the judicial knowledge of Picker- 
 ing, the finished eloquence of West. Jackson, and Bracket, 
 and Cutter were familiar with the whole of medical science, 
 as it existed in their times ; and in the pulpit a long line of 
 pious, and learned, and eloquent men from Moody to Buck- 
 minster, have at once enforced the doctrines and illustrated 
 the spirit of Christianity. The venerated name, which I 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. 21 
 
 have last pronounced, can scarcely be uttered from this 
 place without exciting deep emotion ; and it is connected 
 with another, that at once calls to our remembrance all that 
 is delicate and refined in taste, that is graceful and engag- 
 ing in manners, that is generous and elevated in sentiment. 
 When we have named him, we have no apprehensions for 
 our literary fame. 
 
 If it were still necessary to assert our just claims to dis- 
 tinction, we could point to living examples of merit, which 
 would at once produce conviction. The sons of New- 
 Hampshire are scattered through every state of the Union. 
 They are found in the judicial tribunals, the literary institu- 
 tions, the halls of legislation, the military and naval estab- 
 lishments of our country ; and in all these various situations, 
 we can safely hold them up to public view, and with honest 
 pride claim them for our own. 
 
 I have already alluded to the force of local association ; 
 and I would again advert to it in considering the ties which 
 ought to bind us to our native land. Other countries may 
 possess a richer soil, and a gentler sky ; but where shall we 
 find the rude magnificence of nature so blended with scenes 
 of enchanting beauty as among our mountains and lakes ? 
 Believe me, it is because our country is yet unexplored, 
 that her scenes of beauty and grandeur, her bright waters 
 and swelling hills, her rich pasturage of living green, min- 
 gled with fresh flowers, and skirted with deep and shady 
 forests ; her fields teeming with life and vegetation ; her 
 mountains rising into the dark blue sky, and blending their 
 summits with the purple clouds ; her streams rushing from 
 
22 CENTENNIAL ORATION. 
 
 the hill side, and hastening to mingle with the sea, or linger- 
 ing in the solitude of her valleys, and sparkling in the glorious 
 sunshine ; it is because these are unexplored, that they 
 are unsung. The time is not far distant, when the poet will 
 kindle into rapture, and the painter glow with emotion, in de- 
 lineating our romantic scenery. 
 
 But it is our moral associations that must bind us for ever 
 to the land of our fathers. It is a land of equal rights ; its 
 soil is not polluted by a slave. It is a land of religious free- 
 dom ; no hierarchy can here exalt its head, no pontiff can 
 hurl his thunders over a trembling and prostrate multitude. 
 It is a land of industry and toil ; affording in this a constant 
 pledge of the manly virtues. It is a land of knowledge and 
 progressive improvement. In no part of the world, is so 
 liberal a provision made by law for public instruction. It is 
 a land whose inhabitants have already fulfilled the high du- 
 ties to which they have been called. Other nations have 
 gathered more laurels in the field of blood 5 other nations 
 have twined more garlands and sung louder praise for their 
 poets and orators and philosophers ; but where has romantic 
 courage and adventurous skill been more strikingly exhibit- 
 ed f Where has practical wisdom been better displayed ? In 
 the hour of danger, her sons have been foremost in the bat- 
 tle. In every contest for the rights of mankind, her voice 
 has always been raised on the side of freedom. And now 
 that she stands possessed of every thing which civil and po- 
 litical liberty can bestow, she is vigilant and jealous for the 
 preservation of her rights, and is among the first to resist 
 encroachment. 
 
CENTENNIAL ORATION. 23 
 
 But we are connected with the future, as well as witn the 
 past. We are but a link in the vast chain of being, which is 
 to bind our remotest descendants with our earliest ancestors ; 
 and it is one of the advantages of a celebration like this, that 
 it reminds us of our duties, as well as our privileges. A 
 new century is opening upon us, which none of us will live 
 to complete. Our children are about to take our places. 
 When another century has passed away, the events of this 
 day will be the subject of historical research. Our charac- 
 ter and conduct will then be examined. It will be asked, what 
 we did to perpetuate the blessings we received ; what exer- 
 tions we made to enlighten, and purify, and bless mankind ; 
 what measures we devised to secure at once the rights of 
 the people, and the stability and dignity of the government ; 
 what zeal we displayed for our religious institutions ; what 
 sacrifices we made in the cause of human virtue and human 
 happiness. We are living, even the humblest of us, not for 
 ourselves only ; but for society, for posterity, for the human 
 race. Whatever we can do for ourselves, or for them, be- 
 comes at once our imperious duty to do. There is no es- 
 cape from the obligation. There should be no delay in the 
 performance, no hesitation. These questions will be ask- 
 ed. The answer is yet in our own power. 
 
ADDRESS 
 
 BEFORE THE PHI BETA KAPPA SOCIETY AT DARTMOUTH 
 COLLEGE, DELIVERED AUGUST 18, 1816. 
 
 IT is with much diffidence, gentlemen, that I venture to 
 appear before you. A stranger to most of those, whom I 
 have the honor to address, I should shrink from the duty im- 
 posed on me, if I were not convinced that the same kindness, 
 which called me here, would listen to me with indulgence. 
 But I can hardly appeal in vain to your candor ; for I am 
 persuaded it will be extended to every exertion in the cause 
 of sound learning, however feeble or unsuccessful the at- 
 tempt. 
 
 We are assembled to express our regard to the cause of 
 letters ; to acknowledge ourselves united by a similarity of 
 taste and pursuits ; and to revive, at this seat of learning, 
 that generous ardor for intellectual improvement, which is 
 too often repressed by the cares and contentions of active 
 life. It is delightful to renew, in the place which gave them 
 birth, the bright and fleeting visions of youthful expectation. 
 It was here you first drank at the wells of science ; here 
 were your first breathings after fame ; and here your firmest 
 friendships commenced. You have since gone forth into the 
 
ORATION BEFORE THE <&. B. K. 25 
 
 world, and, it may be, have found it cold and selfish. Your 
 merit, perhaps, has been overlooked by some, and assailed 
 by others ; your learning despised by the ignorant, and ne- 
 glected by those who were able to appreciate its value. You 
 have found all engaged in the pursuit of wealth, or the con- 
 tests of ambition ; and you have been ready to believe there 
 was no place for letters, amidst the vulgar and gross employ- 
 ments of common life. You have perhaps revolted with fas- 
 tidious delicacy, from the necessary duties of men and citi- 
 zens ; and have been tempted to look with envy upon the 
 tranquil retreats of learning in other countries ; or, it may 
 be, you have relinquished with a sigh all connexion with el- 
 egant literature, and have suffered yourselves to be borne 
 along by the steady current of business. It may therefore 
 be useful to contemplate the actual situation of society 
 around us, and see if it imposes any peculiar discouragement, 
 or affords any distinguished advantages for the cultivation of 
 letters. 
 
 The great purpose of a just and generous education is, to 
 prepare men for active life ; and this applies as well to that 
 education which every intelligent man gives himself, as to 
 that which he receives from his parents and instructors. 
 Now what condition of society would be chosen as most fa- 
 vorable to the developement of moral and intellectual ex- 
 cellence ? Where would you search for vigor of under- 
 standing united with strength of principle, and activity of hab- 
 it ? Would it be among the oppressed and degraded sub- 
 jects of a despotic government, where the manners, opinions, 
 and religion of a nation are fashioned by the caprice of an 
 
 4 
 
26 ORATION BEFORE THE $. B. K. 
 
 individual ? Or, would you look for profound thought and 
 stern morality among the luxurious attendants of an ancient 
 court ? We are too apt, gentlemen, to suffer our imaginations 
 to be dazzled by the " pomp and circumstance," which sur- 
 round great men of other times and other countries. We 
 attribute to the companions of a prince, a delicacy of feeling, 
 a chivalrous sense of honor, a lofty pursuit of excellence 
 for its own sake ; but alas ! " ' Tis distance lends enchant- 
 ment to the view ; " a nearer approach discloses to us laxity 
 of principle, profligacy of conduct, and a life of perpetual 
 idleness and discomfort. These are the unavoidable conse- 
 quences of a state of society, in which a large body of men 
 are placed above the necessity of daily employment ; and in 
 which the distinctions of birth and hereditary wealth procure 
 that complacency and regard from others, which forms so es- 
 sential an ingredient in our happiness. But would you give 
 the human mind a chance of attaining its highest perfection, 
 you would constitute a society in which all were equally and 
 directly interested in the public welfare ; where the highest 
 honors of the state were open to the competition of all ; and 
 in which talents were at once wealth and power. Need I 
 add that such a state of society is ours ? Need I tell you 
 that the principles which animated the genius of Greece, and 
 strengthened the patriotism of Rome, are imbodied in our in- 
 stitutions ? that honor, and fame, and political power, 
 await the successful exertions of mind, in every pursuit of 
 life ? 
 
 A natural consequence of the popular nature of the gov- 
 ernment is the character of practical utility, which is 
 
ORATION BEFORE THE 3>. B. K. 37 
 
 stamped upon all our institutions. We are a young and 
 busy people, fearless in speculation, and adventurous in 
 practice. The arts which minister to pleasure alone, are 
 little valued among us. All our studies aim directly at the 
 improvement of our situation, and are such as depend upon 
 a knowledge of human nature, and of what contributes to our 
 actual enjoyment. When we contemplate the noble estab- 
 lishments of Europe, her colleges, and halls, venerable for 
 their antiquity, and illustrious from the minds which have 
 there been formed ; when we survey her extensive libraries, 
 rich with the gathered wisdom of two thousand years ; when 
 we consider her seats of learning, cherished by her sove- 
 reigns, and endowed with the revenues of princes; we are 
 apt to blush for the poverty and insignificance of our own 
 institutions. I should pity the man who could wander 
 among the gardens and cloisters of Oxford, and not indulge 
 in the warmth of generous admiration. That heart must be 
 cold indeed, which would not beat with enthusiasm on the 
 spot, which has been hallowed. by the step of so many states- 
 men, philosophers, and poets. But it must not be concealed 
 that these institutions, splendid as they are, have sunk into 
 the indolence which generally attends luxury and established 
 reputation. Look through the catalogue of professors and 
 fellows in these universities, and you will find them contented 
 with a calm and languid mediocrity, or wasting their strength 
 upon the technical parts of learning, useless as they are to 
 every purpose of practical improvement. At Oxford, you 
 will find the meed of glory awarded to him, who can best 
 scan a line of Pindar, or settle a disputed quantity in a cho- 
 
28 ORATION BEFORE THE *. B. K. 
 
 rus of Euripides. At Leyden, you will find Wyttenbach, 
 the living glory of Holland, lamenting that human life is too 
 short to publish a critical edition of Plutarch. He has em- 
 ployed thirty laborious years, upon the " Treatises of Mor- 
 als " alone, and will probably sink into the grave, under the 
 burden of age, before he has perfectly illustrated his author. 
 You must forgive me, if I prefer the plain sense and active 
 usefulness of the Scoth Universities, as destitute of wealth 
 and patronage as our own, to such learned and laborious tri- 
 fling. In estimating their effect upon the moral and intellec- 
 tual improvement of society, no rational man could hesitate 
 in adjudging the prize of merit to Robertson, Smith,' Beattie, 
 and Stewart, rather than to Markland, Toup, Musgrave, and 
 Porson. 
 
 I would not be understood as depreciating the importance 
 of classical learning. No man bows with more reverence 
 before the noble remains of ancient wisdom and eloquence. 
 No one is more persuaded that the preservation of good 
 taste and sound learning depends upon the constant, assid- 
 uous, and persevering study of the writers of Rome and 
 Greece. But we should contemplate the glory of other 
 times, only that we may kindle with emulation, and glow 
 with rival beams. It is to be lamented, that this light of 
 learning, as yet, has only dawned upon our country. But 
 we trust that in the meridian day of our literature, we shall 
 not be degraded into a herd of grovelling commentators, and 
 hunters of syllables. 
 
 The fondness for political speculations, which is so strik- 
 ing a feature in the character of our countrymen, may be 
 
ORATION BEFORE THE *. B. K. 29 
 
 regarded as one of their proudest distinctions. The science 
 of Politics, in the words of Aristotle, is the supreme, and 
 master-workman of the rest ; *H /7oAmxr} x^twTcm? x<u %i- 
 TxTonx7?. To form a state " wisely constituted, and skilfully 
 administered," may well call into action the brightest talents 
 and noblest energies of our nature. If our studies and ex- 
 ertions should, in the first instance centre in the happiness 
 and improvement of domestic life, we should still keep in 
 view the higher and nobler purpose of conferring benefit up- 
 on our country. If powerful emotion constitutes the happi- 
 ness of great minds, there is an object upon which the feel- 
 ings may be honorably engaged, there is a career in which 
 the loftiest ambition may not disdain to fly. Do you ask if 
 political science can afford you excitement and employment 
 as men of letters ? You surely cannot forget that it comes in 
 contact with every pursuit and employment in life ; you can- 
 not fail to exclaim with Cicero, " Quid porro tarn regium, 
 tarn liberale, tarn munificum, quam retinere homines in civi- 
 tate ! " I need only recall your attention, gentlemen, to some 
 of your own number, to prove that talents, and learning, and 
 eloquence may find adequate and honorable employment 
 in the councils of the nation. 
 
 I hope you will not accuse me of a love of para- 
 dox, if I enumerate among the advantages of our country, 
 that it has not yet attained the height of what is called civil- 
 ization and refinement. Perhaps I may not be understood 
 without explanation. In the progress of society, the in- 
 crease of wealth and luxury generates a love of the arts, 
 and collects men together in crowded cities ; where wealth 
 
30 ORATION BEFORE THE <I>. B. K. 
 
 may be best displayed, and luxury find its appropriate en- 
 joyments. The necessity of amusement obliges them to 
 cultivate the arts of conversation (I am speaking of men of 
 intelligence), and to derive from a rapid succession of com- 
 pany, and a live discussion of literary topics, that excite- 
 ment, which others receive from regular application and 
 stated employments. They become, almost necessarily, 
 acute and penetrating, quick in discernment, and fastidious 
 in taste; but they become, at the same time, impatient of la- 
 bor, and desirous rather of pleasure, than improvement. Be- 
 sides, the love of ridicule, which is always generated in large 
 societies, is directly opposed to the enthusiasm which leads to 
 great undertakings. It is chiefly in retirement and solitary 
 meditation, that you can collect vigor for noble exertions. 
 
 I may congratulate you, too, that as a nation, you are just 
 entering upon the career of glory. The people, from whom 
 you derive your origin, have consummated their national 
 greatness upon the waves of Trafalgar and the field of Wa- 
 terloo. Henceforth they can derive pleasure only from the 
 recollections of the past ; you may be happy in proud anti- 
 cipations of the future. They can live in memory, you may 
 rejoice in hope. They can look back upon a long line of 
 illustrious ancestors, and feel conscious that they have not 
 tarnished their glory ; you may consider yourselves as the 
 founders of a new race, and may deliver your fame as a sa- 
 cred inheritance to be cherished by posterity. They may 
 celebrate the praises of others, you may yourselves be the 
 subject of eulogy. 
 
ORATION BEFORE THE <I>. B. K. 31 
 
 It has been remarked by those who have reasoned most 
 profoundly upon the constitution of society, that the human 
 mind has never, in modem times, attained its full and perfect 
 maturity but among the Protestant nations of Christendom. 
 In reviewing the splendid career of human intelligence, during 
 the last three centuries, it is impossible not to ascribe much 
 of its progress to the reformation of Luther. That great 
 man gave an impulse to society which it has ever since pre- 
 served. He taught men to examine, to reason, to inquire. 
 He unfolded to their wondering gaze, a form of moral beau- 
 ty, which had been too long shrouded from their eyes by the 
 timid dogmatism of the Papal church. It is to Protestant 
 Christianity, gentlemen, that you are indebted for the no- 
 blest exercise of your rational powers. It is to Protestant 
 Christianity, that you owe the vigor of your intellectual ex- 
 ertions and the purity of your moral sentiments. I could 
 easily show you how much the manliness of English litera- 
 ture, and the fearless intrepidity of German speculation, and 
 how much even of the accurate science of France, may be 
 ascribed to the spirit of Protestant Christianity. It is from 
 the influence of this spirit, that the sublime astronomy of La 
 Place has not been, like that of Galileo, condemned as he- 
 retical. It is to Protestant Christianity, that you owe the 
 English Bible ; a volume, that has done more to correct 
 and refine the taste, to elevate the imagination, to fill the 
 mind with splendid and glowing images, than all the lite- 
 rature which the stream of time has brought down to the 
 present age. I hope I am not laying an unhallowed hand 
 upon the Ark of God, if I presume to recommend the 
 
32 ORATION BEFORE THE 3>. B. K. 
 
 Bible to you, as an object of literary enthusiasm. The 
 Bible ! Where in the compass of human literature, can the 
 fancy be so ebvated by sublime description, can the heart 
 be so warmed by simple, unaffected tenderness ? Men of 
 genius ! who delight in bold and magnificent speculation, in 
 the Bible you have a new world of ideas opened to your 
 range. Votaries of eloquence ! in the Bible you find the 
 grandest thoughts clothed in a simple majesty, worthy of the 
 subject and the Author. Servants of God ! 1 need not tell 
 you that the glories of immortality are revealed in language, 
 which mortal lips had never before employed ! But I for- 
 bear. The Bible is in your hands ; and even now, while I 
 am speaking its praise, " it is silently fulfilling its destin- 
 ed course, " it is raising many a heart to the throne of 
 God. 
 
 The prevalence of religious controversies may be regard- 
 ed as another advantage, in estimating the intellectual con- 
 dition of our countrymen. Though much evil has arisen, 
 and from the nature of things must arise, from the asperity 
 of party contest, yet subjects of so awful a nature, and so 
 interesting to the feelings and happiness of all, can hardly 
 be discussed without producing some elevation of mind and 
 seriousness of temper. In our country, the maxims and 
 doctrines of the higher philosophy, discourses on the being 
 and attributes of the Deity, and out he nature and destina- 
 tion of the human soul, subjects which among the ancient 
 philosophers were revealed only to the initiated, are matter 
 of daily and hourly conversation. I appeal to tbe records 
 of past experience, to the general history of mankind, to 
 
ORATION BEFORE THE <&. B. K. 33 
 
 illustrate the effect of religious freedom. Why is all the 
 literature of Germany at this day confined to her Protestant 
 provinces ? Why has Catholic Switzerland never produced 
 a single man, eminent in any art or science, while the Pro- 
 testant Cantons have been, for two centuries, enlarging the 
 boundaries of human knowledge ? Why, in fine, was Catholic 
 France always superior in intelligence to the nations around 
 her, to Spain, to Sicily, to Naples ? Because Catholic France 
 was never without heretics ; because, even after the revoca- 
 tion of the edict of Nantz, subjects of religious controversy 
 were kept alive by books from Switzerland and Holland, by 
 the manly sense of Grotius, and the subtle infidelity of Bayle. 
 It is impossible that men should be dull and sordid in their 
 feelings, or low and grovelling in their desires, who are famil- 
 iar with the sublime conceptions of Christian philosophy. 
 And where many minds are ardently engaged in the pursuit 
 of knowledge, on subjects most interesting to then 1 happiness, 
 the impulse is gradually communicated to other classes in 
 the community, and extended to other subjects of research. 
 I have thus, gentlemen, enumerated a few of the circum- 
 stances which distinguish us from other nations, and they 
 are all favorable to the cultivation of letters. I could add 
 many other particulars. I could dwell upon the influence 
 of climate, which renders us susceptible of more moral 
 tenderness, of more deep feeling, and permanent emotion, 
 than the lively nations of the South ever experience. I 
 could call your attention to the natural scenery of our coun- 
 try, to her lofty mountains and spreading vales, to her rapid 
 rivers, to her lakes and forests, fitted to excite and cherish 
 
 5 
 
34 ORATION BEFORE THE <I>. B. K. 
 
 the loftiest feelings of poetical enthusiasm. But 1 have said 
 enough ; you have already felt and acknowledged, that nei- 
 ther the proud presumption of the Grecian States, nor the 
 stern severity of ancient Rome, nor the luxurious refinement 
 of modern Europe, could open a brighter path to intellectu- 
 al greatness, than the habits and institutions of Protestant, 
 Republican New England. 
 
 I trust, I have not fostered, in your bosoms, a spirit of 
 national vanity, in thus displaying the advantages you pos- 
 sess. I have had a higher aim. I would excite in you 
 and myself a deep conviction of our duty and responsibili- 
 ty ; I would warm your hearts to the love of glory, by show- 
 ing that the lasting honors of learning are within your 
 reach, that you have only to extend your arm to seize the 
 crown of imperishable fame. Why is it, that your names 
 may not descend to posterity as the heroes of intellectual 
 greatness ? Is there no one among you, whose spirit may be 
 stimulated to unremitted exertion, who will feel the convic- 
 tion that the greatest possible exertion of his powers has 
 become his moral duty ; that his friends, his country have a 
 claim upon him for the last degree of moral and intellec- 
 tual improvement, of which his nature is capable ? Permit 
 me to indulge the hope that there are many such, many 
 who are even now cheering their solitary hours, by the 
 hopes of future renown, many who are drinking deep at 
 the inexhaustible fountains of Grecian and Roman literature, 
 many who are filling their minds with noble conceptions, 
 and warming their hearts with generous emotions, by a daily 
 perusal of the Oracles of God. Of such permit me to take 
 
ORATION BEFORE THE <E>. B. K. 35 
 
 leave in the ardent language of the prince of eloquence ; 
 " Quamobrem pergite, ut facitis, adolescentes, atque in id 
 studium, in quo estis, incumbite ; ut et nobis honori, et ami- 
 cis utilitati, et reipublica? emolumento esse possitis." 
 
PAPERS 
 
 READ 
 
 BEFORE THE PORTSMOUTH FORENSIC SOCIETY. 
 
[Some account of the Society before which the five following papers 
 were delivered, is to be found in the memoir prefixed to the present volume. 
 From this account, it will be understood, that the opinions expressed before 
 the Society were not always those of the person who delivered them ; but, 
 often, in a great measure, such as were prescribed by the nature of all sim- 
 ilar discussions. This should not be forgotten, when reading several of the 
 subsequent arguments, which are to be considered only as a defence of 
 opinions Mr. Haven was called on to maintain. It will not however escape 
 observation, that while he has defended the side of the question assigned 
 him in the discussion, he has done it, not in the spirit of a professed advo- 
 cate, but in the spirit of one, who is sincerely inquiring after truth.] 
 
ON TRACTS. 
 
 WHICH IS MOST BENEFICIAL TO THE CAUSE OF CHRIS- 
 TIANITY, BIBLE, MISSIONARY, OR TRACT SOCIETIES?" 
 
 I HAVE listened, sir, with no little pleasure to the re- 
 marks which have just been made upon the importance of 
 Bible and Missionary Societies. It is a happy circumstance, 
 that among the jarring opinions and conflicting pursuits of 
 human life, there is one subject on which all may agree, 
 one point to which all efforts may be directed, the cause of 
 human improvement. Whatever may be our opinions on 
 other subjects, however widely separated by our specula- 
 tions in religion or politics, we here meet on common ground. 
 We all wish well to our race ; and it is our happiness, as 
 well as our interest, to promote their moral and intellectual 
 improvement. 
 
 If we take a rapid glance at the history of man, we find 
 that his conduct, liis habits of thinking as well as of acting, 
 are intimately connected with his religious beb'ef. While, 
 under other systems of religion, he has been stationary or 
 degraded, it is grateful to remark, that under the Chris- 
 tian dispensation, man has been progressive ; his future and 
 perpetual progress is provided for, and encouraged, and en- 
 
40 ON TRACTS. 
 
 joined by it. While it raises him above the mere enjoyment 
 of his senses, it opens to him whatever can enlarge the af- 
 fections, or purify the taste, or excite the imagination, or 
 mature the reason. All the institutions of Christianity ope- 
 rate directly to produce the greatest amount of virtue and 
 happiness, and the highest degree of intellectual improve- 
 ment. 
 
 And here it may be remarked, that in all religious com- 
 munities a principle of life and activity exists, that is not 
 found in political ones. The members are more active, in 
 proportion as their sense of duty is stronger, and the sanc- 
 tions of their law are more powerful. The leaders of such 
 a community have an influence, which political leaders can 
 never attain. " Their hold is upon the heart of man, up- 
 on his hopes and fears, the weakness and the strength of 
 his nature." 
 
 Whether, therefore, we regard the effects which it has 
 actually produced, or the means which it has of influencing 
 human conduct, we are justified in looking to religion, rath- 
 er than to political establishments, as the great agent in pro- 
 ducing knowledge and happiness. The cause of Chris- 
 tianity, then, is the cause of human improvement. 
 
 But how to extend this blessing, how to make the igno- 
 rant understand its sublime doctrines, the vicious receive its 
 moral precepts, the doubting submit to its solemn sanctions ; 
 how to gain access to the heart of the prejudiced, or to the 
 mind of the barbarian ; these are questions upon which we 
 may well pause. There have been times, when, to the dis- 
 grace of Protestant Christianity, the duty of doing some- 
 
ON TRACTS. 41 
 
 thing for the improvement of the world, seems never to 
 have occurred. But now it is far otherwise; and the intel- 
 lectual and moral excitement of the present age is not one 
 of the least benefits, that have attended, or followed, the 
 tremendous revolutions we have witnessed. The question 
 now is, not whether we shall do any thing for mankind, but 
 how we shall act with the most effect. 
 
 And here the friends of the Bible Society rise, and tell 
 us Put the Scriptures into the hands of every man ; trans- 
 late them into every language ; let " all kingdoms and na- 
 tions and tongues " unite in reading the word of God. This 
 is indeed a sublime conception ; and worthy of that religion, 
 which teaches that " all nations are made of one blood," 
 and are children of the same common Father. But we 
 must not suffer our imaginations to be so much dazzled by 
 the splendor of the project, as to overlook its practical dif- 
 ficulties. Have these gentlemen duly considered what the 
 Bible is, that they should send it forth alone, and expect it 
 to convert the world ? The Bible contains upwards of sixty 
 distinct writings, composed ,by at least thirty-four different 
 authors, some of whom lived more than sixteen hundred 
 years apart. It was written originally in different langua- 
 ges ; one of which is now lost, except in the Bible itself; so 
 that no other book exists with which it can be compared, or 
 by which its meaning can be ascertained. It presents a his- 
 tory of more than four thousand years, and records the ac- 
 tions of a nation distinguished from all others, not only by 
 its rites, ceremonies, and religious opinions, but by its politi- 
 cal government, its strange vicissitudes, its striking misfor- 
 
 6 
 
42 ON TRACTS. 
 
 tunes, and its more wonderful preservation. It contains 
 writings which darkly shadow out the fortunes, not only of 
 the people to whom they were addressed, but of the whole 
 human race ; and that to the end of the world. It is full of 
 allusions to the manners, customs, and institutions of nations, 
 that have long since been swept from the earth ; it refers to 
 books, whose former existence is known only by the refer- 
 ence itself " y it contains warnings and prohibitions, and pre- 
 scribes rites and ceremonies, which have been abrogated for 
 two thousand years, and the reason of which can now be 
 only conjectured. The Bible too is full of poetry, not only 
 of sublime conceptions and lofty poetical images, but of 
 verse in its literal meaning. Biblical critics of the last cen- 
 tury, have succeeded in restoring the metre, not only of the 
 Book of Psalms, but of Job, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the great- 
 er part of the Minor Prophets. Some of these are concise, 
 sententious, and abrupt like Pindar ; others exhibit the gen- 
 erous indignation of Juvenal, and rebuke the luxurious and 
 reprove the unjust, with the force and dignity and eloquence 
 of the Roman satirist j others again have the sublimity, and 
 ardor, and boldness of Homer ; while in all, there are occa- 
 sional passages of tenderness and pathetic simplicity. 
 
 Those who are conversant with the writings of antiquity, 
 need not be told that a book so old as this, and upon so 
 great a variety of subjects, must necessarily present many 
 difficulties. If there are passages in Homer, which we can- 
 not understand, with all the aid of the philosophers, historians, 
 and poets of ancient Greece ; if there are laws of the Twelve 
 Tables, which are unintelligible even when cited by Cicero 
 
ON TRACTS. 43 
 
 and Pliny ; how much more difficulty should we expect to 
 find in the institutes of Moses, or the poetry of Joel. 
 
 And such is the fact. Which of us, with all the advanta- 
 ges of early Christian education, and of weekly instruction, 
 will say, that he fully understands any one of the numerous 
 writings contained in this wonderful book ? It has been well 
 remarked by a most pious and eloquent Baptist, John Fos- 
 ter, that no intelligent man can read the Bible for ten min- 
 utes, without wishing to ask a hundred questions, which can 
 only be answered from other books than the Bible. And 
 will you put th''s volume, thus requiring so much previous 
 knowledge, into the hands of a Cafire, or a New-Zealander, 
 and expect him, alone, unassisted, and unenlightened, to ex- 
 tract from it a system of rational faith ? To suppose this, 
 would be to suppose that the mere present of a Bible is ac- 
 companied with a miraculous agency, that enables the re- 
 ceiver to understand it, and to value it. Besides, how is he 
 to be made acquainted with the external evidences of Chris- 
 tianity ? How is hf to know that it is a book sent from 
 God? 
 
 I trust, sir, I am not misunderstood in these remarks. I 
 am making no attempt to depreciate the value of the Scrip- 
 tures. On the contrary, I approach them with the humble 
 sentiment of Erasmus ; " In this book alone, I reverence 
 even what I cannot understand." 
 
 But, sir, the principles of our common faith are few and 
 simple ; I mean the essential, the elementary principles. 
 When the first Gentile converts were baptized by Peter, the 
 number of truths, in which they were instructed, was very 
 
44 ON TRACTS. 
 
 small ; and would look very insignificant by the side of the 
 creeds and confessions of modern days. Yet their belief of 
 these few propositions was accepted by an Apostle, and their 
 reception into the church was ratified by the gift of the Holy 
 Ghost. And if you were to analyze the principles of an un- 
 lettered Christian, of any denomination, those principles up- 
 on which the great superstructure of his moral character is 
 built, and upon which he rests his comfort here, and his 
 hopes of happiness hereafter ; you would find them as few 
 and simple, as those of Cornelius, the Roman centurion. 
 
 The true question then is, How can these few, plain prin- 
 ciples be best insinuated into minds undisciplined by truth, 
 and unaccustomed to reflection. The Bible contains these 
 principles, and, blessed be God, the Bible is in our 
 hands. The Bible, too, contains a wonderful variety of 
 other knowledge, sufficient to excite the strongest mind, and 
 to employ the labor of a life. Shall we then give the 
 whole to an unlettered man, and leave him to grapple alone 
 with the difficulties which have tasked the strength of the 
 most powerful minds ? We do not act so irrationally in the 
 education of our children. We do not give them a library, 
 and leave them to choose for themselves the books proper 
 for their instruction. 
 
 It will be perceived, that the force of my argument rests 
 upon the assumption, that of the three modes of promoting 
 human improvement presented by the question, only one 
 can be pursued. The gentleman who preceded me has 
 overlooked this consideration, in representing Missionaries 
 as translators of the Bible, and distributors of Tracts. So 
 
ON TRACTS, 45 
 
 i'ar as they do this, they act as the agents of Bible and 
 Tract Societies. Consider, then, what the Bible is, and 
 estimate for a moment the effect it would produce, if pre- 
 sented alone to a Heathen, or to an unlettered man in a 
 Christian country, and you will feel a melancholy convic- 
 tion, that without the aid of miracles, the Bible alone, will 
 do but little to convert the Pagan world. 
 
 But here I am told by the advocate of Missions, that 
 Christianity must be propagated as it was in the times of the 
 Apostles ; that pious men must go forth, bearing with them 
 the word of God ; inculcating its precepts, explaining 
 its difficulties, and exhibiting in their own persons a living 
 monument of its efficacy. There is something, sir, at first 
 view so imposing in the character of a Christian Missionary, 
 that we need to guard ourselves against being swayed too 
 much by our feelings. There have been men in different 
 ages of the world, who, laying aside all personal considera- 
 tions, have devoted themselves to the work of propagating 
 the Gospel, with an energy and singleness of purpose, with 
 a contempt of the maxims of worldly prudence, and a dis- 
 dain of labor and suffering, at which ordinary minds stand 
 aghast. Such were St. Francis and St. Dominic among 
 the Catholics ; Loyola, and Francis Xavier, the apostle of 
 the Indies ; such was Luther, the greatest name in modern 
 history ; such were Wesley, and Whitfield, and David 
 Brainerd ; and such, in our own times, was the spotless 
 Henry Martyn. Yet the very enumeration of these illustri- 
 ous men, serves only to convince us of the utter inefficacy 
 of Missionary efforts. What is the lesson of experience ? 
 
46 ON TRACTS. 
 
 It is nearly two centuries, since the Jesuits, the most suc- 
 cessful of Missionaries, penetrated into India and China. 
 For more than a hundred and fifty years, the Dutch have 
 had a Missionary establishment at Ceylon. What have they 
 done ? Where are the trophies of their victory ? What 
 nation has been converted to Christianity ? What tribe of 
 barbarians has been permanently civilized ? Look abroad 
 through our own country ; what did Eliot and Brainerd ef- 
 fect for the poor savages of North America ? Show us 
 your Christian Indians, and we will listen more readily 
 to the claims of Missionary zeal. 
 
 In truth, sir, -when we speak of sending forth Missiona- 
 ries, like the Apostles, to propagate the Gospel, we overlook 
 the infinite difference of the two cases. We forget that the 
 one went forth, clothed with supernatural powers, and 
 wrought miracles in attestation of their divine mission, while 
 the others go forth with the feeble weapons of human ac- 
 quirements, and guided by the faint light of human reason. 
 The success has been proportionate to the means employed. 
 And thus it will ever be. For what becomes of the argu- 
 ment for the truth of Christianity, derived from the rapid 
 spread of the Gospel in the times of the Apostles, if Mission- 
 aries, at the present time, can extend it as easily and rap- 
 idly by the mere force of human eloquence ? When Mis- 
 sionaries can work miracles, then, and not till then, will 
 they be able to convert the world. 
 
 We have been favored, sir, with an eloquent account of 
 the exertions that are now making to send Missions to all 
 parts of the world. It is indeed an age of great moral and 
 
ON TRACTS. 47 
 
 religious excitement ; and I rejoice that it is so. Nay 
 more, I rejoice at Missionary exertions ; for I am no enemy 
 to Missions. Yet I believe their beneficial effect is produc- 
 ed upon those who support, them. It is the reaction that is 
 favorable. They who labor to send Christianity to foreign 
 lands, learn to prize it more at home. And the vast sums 
 annually collected for this purpose, give to common minds 
 an imposing idea of the value of the benefit conferred. 
 
 The great obstacle to the success of Christianity has al- 
 ways been, the vices of those who call themselves Chris- 
 tians. You go to a savage, and tell him you have a religion 
 of unspeakable value to offer to his acceptance ; a religion 
 that will make him virtuous and happy in this life, and se- 
 cure his eternal happiness in the life to come. You excite 
 his curiosity ; and he naturally inquires for those pure and 
 happy beings who are already possessed of this blessing. 
 Where would you direct his attention ? Would you lead him 
 round the outskirts of Christendom, where the Pagan comes 
 in immediate contact with those who bear the Christian 
 name ? Alas, in this twilight of civilization, the difference 
 between the Christian arid the Pagan is but dimly discern- 
 ed ; and the accidental advantages of birth or fortune will 
 throw the weight of personal virtues, sometimes into this, 
 and sometimes into the other scale. Or would you tell him 
 to seek the effects of Christianity among the individuals who 
 sometimes penetrate into his own distant country ? This is 
 the best standard you can offer; for you cannot transport 
 him at once into the bosom of your own free, and civilized, 
 and happy community. You can only point to those who 
 
48 ON TRACTS. 
 
 have been educated among you, and who have imbibed the 
 character which your institutions naturally give. And what 
 a standard is this ! While the nations of India have among 
 them two hundred thousand Englishmen, usurping every 
 office, spreading themselves through all parts of the country, 
 inspecting every village, and visiting every house, not in the 
 spirit of Christian love to enlighten, and comfort, and ele- 
 vate, but in the Teachings and graspings of an insatiable av- 
 arice, to discover new subjects of oppression, and new 
 means of extortion ; while these men are supported in their 
 iniquitous exactions by the bayonets of fifty thousand sol- 
 diers, greedy of gain, and willing to blast every field, and 
 consume every house, and destroy every temple, to gain 
 new possessions to plunder, can you wonder that the Hin- 
 doos are averse to the Christian faith ? They become Chris- 
 tians ! Do we adopt the opinions of those we hate ? When 
 was it ever known, that the oppressed imbibed the senti- 
 ments, and copied the manners, of the oppressor ? Every 
 principle of the human mind revolts at it. 
 
 But let us not fix our attention so long upon a foreign 
 country, as to forget our own. When we cast our eyes up- 
 on our own fair fields and bright waters, does it never oc- 
 cur to us, that this smiling land was once the possession of 
 a Pagan race, who valued it as dearly as we do ? who must 
 have loved it more dearly ; because it contained the moul- 
 dering bones of their fathers for more centuries, than we can 
 count in this new world. And where is the miserable rem- 
 nant of these nations, once so numerous and powerful ? In 
 the barren prairies and rocky mountains, to which we 
 
ON TRACTS. 49 
 
 have driven them, need we ask whether they are Chris- 
 tians ? 
 
 Nor is the case different with the few tribes who re- 
 main among us. I was once acquainted with a Missionary, 
 who had labored some time among the Seneca Indians. 
 A chief of that tribe, at a public conference which was held 
 upon the Christian religion, thus expressed the opinion of 
 himself and his nation ; " Your good book has two mean- 
 ings ; a thing which we cannot understand. You read in it, 
 that Christians must not be liars, nor thieves, nor drunk- 
 ards ; yet Christians make Indians drunk, and tell them 
 great lies, and steal away all their beaver skins, and call 
 this trading. There is a secret about your good book, 
 which you will not tell to poor Indians." An inhabitant of 
 Tanjore said to Christian Swartz, the Missionary, " Sir, if 
 you send a person to us, send one who has learned all your 
 ten commandments." 
 
 Thus it is that the vices of Christians every where oppose 
 an obstacle to the success of Christianity. Till, therefore, 
 the principles of Christianity prevail more among ourselves, 
 the cause of Foreign Missions is almost hopeless. Nor is 
 the case much better with Domestic Missions, for reasons 
 that I shall presently notice. 
 
 In fact, since the first ages of Christianity, the faith 
 has been spread, not by preaching, but by colonization. 
 Nations have become Christian as they have become civil- 
 ized, by having Christian colonies planted among them, or 
 by falling under the dominion of nations already Christian. 
 There is a striking difference between the first establish- 
 
 7 
 
50 ON TRACTS. 
 
 ment and subsequent extension of Christianity, to which I 
 have already adverted. It was planted in the world by the 
 immediate power of its divine Author, it is left to be extend- 
 ed by the exertions of its feeble professors ; just as the un- 
 derstanding is the immediate gift of God, but its improve- 
 ment or perversion is left to the care of him who possesses 
 it. For Missionaries in the present day, even if their num- 
 ber was increased to their wildest wishes, to expect the suc- 
 cess of the Apostles, deserves a stronger name than folly or 
 presumption. Their error consists in applying to them- 
 selves the directions and the promises given to the inspired 
 Apostles. The " foolishness of preaching," which was to 
 convert the world, was preaching attended with miracles ; 
 but we have no promise that the preaching of uninspired 
 Missionaries shall convert the world. 
 
 There is, in the necessary constitution of Missions, a radi- 
 cal vice that goes far to destroy their usefulness. A Mis- 
 sionary is generally itinerant ; though he may do something 
 to awaken attention to religious subjects, he can effect little 
 in nourishing the Christian virtues, which are tender plants, 
 and frequently of very slow growth. He is dependent upon 
 a foreign society for support; he does not therefore live in 
 the mutual interchange of good offices, of favors received 
 and given, which bind a minister to his parish. He is 
 under the control of a distant society, who can know little of 
 the slow growth of humility and piety, but who are waiting 
 to hear accounts of striking success, of remarkable and sud- 
 den conversions. He is therefore tempted to make great 
 excitements, to apply unwholesome stimulants, and to kill 
 
ON TRACTS. 51 
 
 the gentler virtues by attempting to force them. And this 
 he often does without being aware of it at the time. When 
 David Brainerd had labored a year among the Stockbridge 
 Indians, he baptized seventy-seven persons, and admitted 
 thirty to the communion. This he ascribed, with unhesitat- 
 ing confidence, to the immediate operation of divine influ- 
 ence. Yet his biographer, the pious Jonathan Edwards, 
 admits that but very few of them were really religious; 
 the greater part being operated upon merely by sympathy. 
 
 What then, you are ready to ask, shall we do for the improve- 
 ment of mankind ? Where shall our benevolent feelings find 
 their object, and how shall they be exerted with any hope 
 of success ? If you advert for a moment to the objections 
 which have been urged against the operations of Bible and 
 Missionary Societies, you will perceive at once, that the dis- 
 tribution of Tracts is free from most of these objections, 
 and possesses, besides, many peculiar advantages. 
 
 In the first place, Tracts may be written in a manner that 
 will at once excite attention, and disarm prejudice. " The 
 Shepherd of Salisbury Plain " has been read by many per- 
 sons, who would never have opened a Bible, and who 
 would have turned with aversion, or contempt, from the ex- 
 hortations of the most eloquent Missionary. In this respect, 
 Tracts possess an important advantage over both. In the 
 second place, they admit of an infinite variety both of sub- 
 ject and style, and can therefore be adapted to every situa- 
 tion in life, to every age and character. They may be 
 grave or gay, narrative or didactic, in prose or verse. 
 They may contain direct statements of religious truth, as in 
 
52 ON TRACTS. 
 
 a sermon or catechism ; or they may insinuate it under the 
 guise of a fable, or an anecdote. " The Carpet Makers " 
 of Hannah More, a little ballad of two pages, has probably 
 relieved more minds from the difficulties of a particular 
 Providence, than the learned dissertation of Dr. Price. 
 
 The most zealous advocate for the distribution of the Bi- 
 ble will hardly contend that all its parts are equally useful to 
 every person. No one would direct the attention of a child 
 to the obscure predictions of Ezekiel, or the sublime myste- 
 ries of the Apocalypse. Now the Heathen are children in 
 understanding ; and so, in a great degree,, are the poor and 
 unlettered in every country. In the very language of St. 
 Paul, they should have milk, and not strong meat. But Tracts, 
 and Tracts alone, afford the opportunity of making this se- 
 lection. Whatever is plain and simple in the doctrines of the 
 Scriptures ; whatever is interesting in the lives and fortunes 
 of distinguished men, who have " fought a good fight and 
 kept the faith ; " the sublime precepts and touching para- 
 bles of our Saviour ; these may be all imbodied in Tracts, 
 and may gradually prepare the understanding and the heart 
 for the reception of the whole word of God. On this sub- 
 ject, we have the experience of the Missionaries themselves 
 in our favor. In the memorial of the Baptist Missionaries 
 at Serampore to lord Minto, they enumerate certain Tracts 
 which they have published, and distributed among the 
 natives. Among these I find " The Gospel Messenger," 
 a short Bengalee poem, written to announce the translation 
 of the Scriptures ; and " The Dawn of Wisdom," written to 
 invite them to an investigation of Christianity. What need 
 have we of further witness? 
 
ON TRACTS. 53 
 
 I have spoken of the adaptation of Tracts, to particular 
 ages and characters. In this, they possess an important ad- 
 vantage over preaching, and of course over Missionaries. A 
 man who preaches, addresses a promiscuous assembly. A 
 discourse that may be very profitable to one part of his audi- 
 ence, may be very useless to another. Not so with Tracts. 
 You may visit a family, and present one to each individual, 
 adapted to his particular character and habits. 
 
 There is another consideration, sir, which with me has ir- 
 resistible force. The enemies of Christianity, and the foes 
 of good government, have hitherto found Tracts the most 
 powerful instrument for effecting their purposes. They 
 write no labored treatises ; they send forth no Missionaries. 
 It is sufficient for their object to circulate a song or an an- 
 ecdote, or to exhibit a caricature. What were the licen- 
 tious tales of Voltaire, which, month after month, and year 
 after year, spread impurity and corruption, and doubt and 
 discontent, through so much of the civilized world ; what 
 were these but Tracts ? What was " The Age of Reason " 
 but a Tract ? Think you, that Paine understood and felt the 
 difficulties of revelation, and the plausible objections to 
 Christianity, better than Toland or Tindal or Hobbes ? Yet 
 his work is read and circulated, and is even now producing 
 its sad effects upon the weak and the ignorant, while theirs 
 have long since ceased to be found, except in public 
 libraries, and upon the shelves of collectors. And whence 
 this difference ? Simply from the fact, that their works 
 were too bulky to be read, except by the studious and the 
 learned ; while his was a Tract that could be mastered in 
 
54 ON TRACTS. 
 
 half an hour. Their works were like the vegetable poisons, 
 baneful enough in their nature, but offering some security 
 from the very quantity necessary to produce a fatal effect ; 
 while his was the concentrated mineral poison, causing 
 death by a single drop. 
 
 Surely, if ever it be lawful to learn policy from an ene- 
 my, it is so here. We have felt the force of these weapons. 
 Our ranks have been thinned by these light arrows, falling 
 silently among us. What remains then for us, but to em- 
 ploy similar weapons ? Let us even darken the air with 
 them, that at whatever point the enemy appears, he may be 
 overwhelmed with the arrowy shower. 
 
 It may be remarked too, that Tracts may be made the 
 instruments of much collateral good, which Bibles and Mis- 
 sions cannot effect. They may diffuse a taste for litera- 
 ture ; they may communicate a knowledge of useful arts ; 
 they may enforce the maxims of prudence and domestic 
 economy. In a little Tract of Hannah More's, which was 
 written during the scarcity of 1795, the author has contriv- 
 ed to insert among the adventures of a Postillion, some 
 important directions respecting the economical preparation 
 of food. In a word, whatever literature and science can ef- 
 fect among the educated classes by magnificent libraries 
 and expensive instruments, may be produced among the 
 poor, though of course in a less degree, by the free circula- 
 tion of Tracts. A pile of these interesting publications, it 
 has been poetically remarked, " like the little cells of a 
 honeycomb, contain the richest extracts from the finest 
 flowers." 
 
ON TRACTS. 55 
 
 It may be, however, that the two circumstances which 
 contribute most to the efficacy of Tracts, prevent them 
 from being duly appreciated ; I mean their cheapness and 
 smallness. We can hardly bring ourselves to imagine that 
 a little work of four or five pages, which costs only a 
 cent, could influence the opinions or habits of any man. 
 Yet if we reflect accurately upon the formation of our own 
 characters, we shall find that we have become what we are, 
 not in consequence of any mighty and overwhelming influ- 
 ence, but from a series of small impressions. Our most pro- 
 minent and decisive traits of character may frequently be 
 traced back to a single thought, scarcely regarded, it may 
 be, at first ; but returned to, and dwelt upon, till it becomes 
 a part of our intellectual stock, and the foundation of our 
 principles and habits. 
 
 Now the cheapness of Tracts enables us to scatter them 
 with boundless profusion ; while their smallness ensures their 
 being read by some one. What if thousands and tens of 
 thousands are wasted and lost ? We can afford to lose them. 
 How many millions of acorns are every year produced by 
 a single oak ; yet if only one of them were every year to 
 germinate and take root, how soon would the earth be cov- 
 ered by this prince of the forest. We cannot infer the size 
 of the future plant, from the appearance of the seed. 
 
 There are, in truth, few ways in which a man can exert 
 so great and lasting an influence upon society, as by com- 
 posing a popular Tract. The press of a nation insensibly 
 forms its manners and character ; and, of course, those 
 works which are most generally read, which affect the 
 
56 ON TRACTS. 
 
 greatest number of minds, are really the most important. 
 In our moral and political speculations, we are apt to look 
 too far for efficient causes ; and to ascribe to statesmen and 
 philosophers, effects, which have really been produced by 
 the novelist and the ballad-maker. 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 "THE CHARACTER OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 THAT " history is philosophy teaching by example," is 
 a sentiment that has passed into a maxim, a maxim as re- 
 markable for its truth as its elegance ; but the philosophy to 
 which it refers is that higher philosophy, which is conversant 
 with men, which makes human conduct its subject, and 
 human happiness its ultimate object. It is that philosophy 
 which comprehends in itself every thing relating to the gov- 
 ernment of life ; which does not waste its strength in minute 
 observation of external nature, but, by a diligent examina- 
 tion of the capacities and conduct of men in various situa- 
 tions, endeavours to derive some rule for the regulation of 
 life, and to make some probable conjecture of the issue of 
 human actions. 
 
 But in the wide field of general history, we may wander 
 till we are bewildered, and wearied, with the number and 
 variety of objects that present themselves to our view. At 
 the first glance, the history of mankind appears only a con- 
 fused scene of strife and battles and bloodshed. In every 
 age, we find dissensions and revolutions, the same crimes, 
 
 8 
 
58 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 the same triumphs, and apparently the same success. Ev- 
 ery age and almost every country has had its civil reform- 
 er and its military conqueror. Yet if we advance a little 
 further on the field, we shall discover some appearance of 
 order, and distribution of parts ; something that marks the 
 struggles of one age from those of another, and stamps the 
 effort with an individual character. If we ascend some little 
 eminence, and detach ourselves for a moment from the 
 noise and bustle by which we are surrounded, we shall find 
 that the whole of this struggle and tumult is raised and man- 
 aged by a comparatively small number of men ; that in the 
 strongest rush of the tempest, there is a master-spirit excit- 
 ing and directing the storm. 
 
 It is therefore more conducive both to moral and intellec- 
 tual improvement, to confine our attention to some detached 
 group, or some individual object. A battle, if it could be 
 accurately represented on canvass, would present nothing to 
 the imagination but confusion and terror; but a single ex- 
 ample of heroic valor, or disinterested virtue, at once touches 
 our feelings and compels our attention. 
 
 With these views of the nature and importance of history, 
 and especially of individual history, I shall venture to bring 
 before you, this evening, a discussion of the character of 
 Napoleon Buonaparte. The attempt I know is hazardous ; 
 but I trust you will find in the attractions of the subject 
 something to compensate for the faults of the execution. 
 You will hardly expect that I should attempt to enumerate 
 the events of his life ; for his history for twenty years has 
 been the history of a great part of the civilized world. 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 59 
 
 I cannot even offer you a finished portrait ; but I hope to 
 sketch with a rapid hand, some of those prominent features, 
 in which the lines of character were distinctly marked and 
 which cannot easily be mistaken. After all, it may be, that 
 the effect upon your minds will be produced rather by what 
 I shall omit to say, than by what I shall present to your no- 
 tice. 
 
 In calling your attention to the character of Napoleon 
 Buonaparte, it cannot now be necessary to urge you to dis- 
 miss from your mind all prejudice and all partiality. The 
 lightning which dazzled your eyes so long, has passed away ; 
 and even the echoes of the distant thunder have ceased to 
 be heard. You now may look out upon a serene sky, and 
 gaze upon the portentous cloud as it is slowly staking in the 
 west. Napoleon Buonaparte is becoming to us what Alex- 
 ander and Caesar have been, an object of wonder and cu- 
 riosity, but not of personal interest. 
 
 That Buonaparte was one of the first captains of the age, 
 will not now be disputed ; and in granting this, we grant 
 him talents of the highest order. The love of military glo- 
 ry is the most seducing passion that can swell the heart. 
 In every country, wealth, and honors, and popular acclama- 
 tions have been lavished upon military conquerors. The 
 incense of popular favor has been offered to them while liv- 
 ing ; and sculptured monuments and trophied urns have 
 marked the place of their sepulture. Dreadful as are the 
 miseries of war, in contemplating a successful commander 
 they are all forgotten. Even the victims of war learn to 
 sympathize with the splendid greatness of the conqueror, 
 
60 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 and to derive some consolation for their sufferings, from the 
 very greatness of the power that has overwhelmed them. 
 All this has its foundation in our nature. We love excite- 
 ment ; we admire sublimity ; and there is nothing that can 
 so deeply interest and almost absorb our feelings, as to wit- 
 ness tremendous power in action. Hence it is that military 
 commanders are the popular idols. Hence it is that the mil- 
 itary profession has always been the favorite with men of 
 great minds and ardent feelings. It affords room for the em- 
 ployment of their consuming energy. It holds out a prize to 
 their ambition, which nothing else can offer. It tasks their 
 highest powers to the stretch ; for every day and every 
 hour, not merely wealth, and fame, but life depends upon 
 their exertions. The higher ranks of the military profes- 
 sion therefore are always rilled by great men. And it 
 would not be difficult to demonstrate, that the very nature of 
 their employment requires talents and intellectual habits of 
 a high order. The revolution in France by removing every 
 obstacle to the developement of military talent, has caused 
 that nation to be distinguished by more great commanders, 
 than have appeared in the world since the days of Hanni- 
 bal and Scipio Africanus. To be the first among such 
 men, is proof of no ordinary powers. 
 
 I am not sufficiently versed in military tactics to explain 
 the precise nature of Napoleon's merits as a soldier ; yet 
 I think there is nothing in modern history that can be com- 
 pared to his campaign in the Tyrol, in the months of Feb- 
 ruary and March, 1797. It is worthy of remark, that when 
 Hannibal fought his way through Gaul, and poured down 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. (jj_ 
 
 his troops upon Italy from the summit of the Alps, and 
 when Buonaparte, after conquering Italy, surmounted the 
 same Alps, and dictated peace to Austria, almost at the 
 gates of Vienna, these distinguished men were each twenty- 
 eight years old. Twenty-eight years ! What are we ! and 
 what is human life ! Sunk in indolence, engrossed in petty 
 cares, or dissolved in pleasure ! Twenty-eight years ! And 
 are we but beginning to live ? 
 
 But it is time to descend from this general view, to a 
 more particular examination. What was the intellectual 
 character, what were the habits of mind, of this man? 
 These are the questions I shall endeavour briefly to answer. 
 The first and most striking trait in his character was its un- 
 controllable energy. It was, in every thing, the reverse of 
 weakness and indolence. You see his faculties constantly 
 exerted ; and whatever was the object, to that he directed 
 his whole soul. It may be remarked too, that the ob- 
 jects of his pursuit were all of a high order. He wasted no 
 strength in a degrading dissipation like His Majesty of Eng- 
 land ; he devised no patterns for buttons and feathers, like 
 the king of Prussia ; he wrought no embroidery for the 
 Virgin, like the beloved Ferdinand ; but whatever he did 
 was grave and manly. From his first entrance into the mil- 
 itary college at Brienne to his final overthrow at Waterloo, 
 he seems to have been full of aspiring thoughts ; and through 
 his whole life he had the dignity as well as the energy of 
 ambition. It was as early as 1797 that he began to say, that 
 if any one could combine the new system in France with 
 a military government, he might raise her to a high rank 
 
62 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 among the nations, and maintain her in that elevation. And 
 about the same time, when Count Meerfeldt, the Austrian 
 ambassador, offered him a German principality, he frankly 
 admitted that it was his object to get into the government of 
 his own country. " If I once set my foot in the stirrup," 
 he added, " I have no doubt I shall go far." 
 
 It has sometimes happened that minds of great powers, 
 and of unceasing activity, have been distinguished as much 
 for their caprice as their exertions. You find them con- 
 stantly laboring, but seldom in the same path. Panting for 
 universal praise, they grasp at every distinction within their 
 reach ; and you find them in every possible employment, 
 and under every possible variety of character. Not so with 
 Napoleon ; if he shot athwart our system with the rapid 
 motion and portentous splendor of a comet, his course from 
 its commencement was as steady, direct, and uniform, as 
 that of the earth in her orbit. 
 
 Another remarkable trait in his intellectual character was 
 the rapidity of his mental operations. An ordinary mind 
 could scarcely keep pace with the conclusions of his under- 
 standing. While other men were laboriously stating the 
 premises, he had already arrived at the conclusion. Hence 
 he rarely took counsel from those around him. His generals 
 and ministers waited to receive his commands, not to offer 
 their advice. Other despots have succeeded in bending to 
 theirs, the will of those around. But he did more. It was 
 not merely that his will was their will ; but his reason was 
 their reason. He stood alone ; like a solitary watch-fire on 
 a promontory, in the midst of a dark and stormy ocean. 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 53 
 
 in this particular his character is strikingly contrasted with 
 that of Washington. Our hero and legislator, though equally 
 decisive in his ultimate opinion, exercised an uncommon de- 
 gree of restraint and self-government in the formation of 
 that opinion. To avoid the possibility of error, he borrowed 
 light from every source ; he listened patiently to every opin- 
 ion ; and the conclusions of his understanding were as grad- 
 ual and sure, as the approach of day. The thin, pale light 
 which first appeared, gradually brightened and extended ; 
 then a few stronger rays flashed up, and were reflected 
 from the broad red clouds, that still hung on the skirts 
 of the night ; and then the clear bright sun rose in all his 
 splendor and strength. When Washington had announced 
 an opinion thus deliberately formed, you could as little 
 doubt its correctness, as you could doubt the light of heav- 
 en diffused around you. 
 
 Notwithstanding the rapidity of his conceptions, Napoleon 
 possessed the capacity of long and unremitted attention. 
 To this his officers bear witness ; and it constitutes in itself 
 no small portion of greatness. He appears at all times to 
 have his habits of thought under entire command. Noth- 
 ing is more striking than the fact, that in his most perplex- 
 ing campaigns, and in the midst of the most distressing per- 
 sonal privations, he could, at all times, lie down and sleep as 
 soundly as a child. In 1809, after losing the battle of Lo- 
 bau, he escaped across the Danube with only two persons, 
 Marshal Berthier and an aid-de-camp. When he reached 
 the opposite side of the river, he carelessly remarked, that 
 he had gained forty battles, and could afford to lose one ; 
 
64 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 and then without making a single inquiry after the fate of his 
 army, he went to bed and slept soundly till morning. As 
 a consequence of his rapid and decisive energy, we find 
 Napoleon, from his childhood, distinguished for an entire 
 confidence in his own judgment. An instance of this occurs 
 to me in the siege of Toulon in 1793, when his great mili- 
 tary talents were first distinguished. He was at this time a 
 captain of artillery, and was employed by Barras, who had 
 been sent thither as a commissioner, by the National As- 
 sembly, to attack the height of Malbousquet, then in posses- 
 sion of the English. In the midst of the engagement, Barras 
 found fault with the direction of a gun. The young officer 
 turned upon him with ineffable contempt ; " Mr. Commis- 
 sioner, attend to your own duties ; I am answerable for the 
 success of the attack with my head. I know what is right." 
 It should be remembered that Barras was then his only 
 patron, and that he had plenary powers at Toulon, to 
 direct all the operations of the siege. 
 
 After the relation of these circumstances, it is scarcely 
 necessary to add, that he was always a solitary and a 
 selfish being. At school, in the army, on the throne, he 
 had no companions, no friends. He made small account of 
 good wishes or kind feelings. He required obedience, 
 he cared little for affection. He was like one of those 
 masses of ice, that are sometimes loosened in the polar 
 seas, and float down to milder climates, beautiful and 
 grand at a distance, as they reflect the play of the sunbeams, 
 but on their near approach, cold, and dreary, and deso- 
 late ; chilling the very air with their snows, and crushing 
 all before them with their resistless weight. 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 55 
 
 One effect of this cold selfishness was apparent in his 
 military career. Except Frederic of Prussia, a name that 
 should never be pronounced without the malediction of the 
 human race, no commander in modern times has been so 
 prodigal of human life. In all his campaigns blood flowed 
 like water. At the battle of Lodi, he ordered his army to 
 pass a bridge, that was incessantly raked by grape shot 
 from thirty pieces of cannon. Twice, all who entered upon 
 the bridge were swept away ; and the third time, Berthier, 
 Massena, and Lannes, succeeded in passsing it over the 
 dead bodies of three thousand of their companions. At the 
 bridge of Arcole, a month or two afterwards, there was 
 nearly an equal slaughter. 
 
 In considering the intellectual character of Buonaparte, 
 his love of learning and the fine arts cannot be passed 
 over, and it is the more remarkable, as it harmonized so 
 little with the cold severity of his general deportment. It is 
 an authentic fact, that before the age of twenty-one he had 
 composed a history of Corsica, which was communicated 
 in manuscript to the Abbe Raynal, and received his ap- 
 plause. In his Italian campaign, he set the example of re- 
 quiring from the conquered nations a surrender of those 
 splendid monuments of ancient art, which have so long 
 constituted the charm and glory of Italy. The act was 
 robbery, but it was the spoil of no common robber. 
 
 When he ordered his troops to spare the village of Pieto- 
 la, where Virgil was born, and even indemnified the inhab- 
 itants for the expense of the war, it was doubtless mere 
 affectation, designed for stage effect ; but it was such affec- 
 9 
 
66 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 tation as could never enter the head of a mere military ad- 
 venturer. In Egypt he put at the head of his proclama- 
 tions, " Buonaparte, commander in chief, and member of 
 the National Institute." This too was affectation ; but when 
 was science, in fact, so much advanced by a military expe- 
 dition, as by the invasion of Egypt. I have already touch- 
 ed upon one or two circumstances from which the moral 
 character of his mind, as distinguished from the intellectual, 
 may be inferred. If it were necessary to sum it up in one 
 concise expression, I should say, it was boundless ambition 
 and supreme selfishness. He lived only for himself. He 
 sought only personal aggrandizement; and he pursued it 
 at the expense of the whole human race. To stamp his 
 name with indelible infamy, it is not necessary to impute to 
 him any gratuitous crimes. He never did evil from the 
 mere love of wickedness ; but then he never refrained from 
 evil from any regard to principle. Of the audacity of his 
 selfishness, a memorable proof is given in his letter to the 
 Duke of Berg, his nephew, which was published at the time 
 in the Paris newspapers : " Never forget," says he, " that your 
 first duty is to me ; your second, to France; and the people 
 whom I intrust to your care, have only the third claim up- 
 on you." These expressions describe most accurately the 
 whole course of his foreign and domestic policy. Personal 
 aggrandizement was first sought ; then the glory and happi- 
 ness of France, if not inconsistent with his private views ; 
 then the interest of those unhappy nations, that were chain- 
 ed to his iron car. Napoleon Buonaparte was the farthest 
 possible removed from a patriot. 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. (J7 
 
 After this rapid analysis of his character, you may per- 
 haps expect some comment upon his conduct, upon his 
 character carried out into action. But here so wide a field 
 is opening upon me, that t dare not venture to enter it. I 
 shall only briefly advert to such facts, as may justify the 
 view I have taken of his character. 
 
 I consider the campaign of 1797 as the highest point of 
 his military elevation. He had then, in the short space of 
 ten weeks, completed the conquest of Italy, subdued the 
 states of Venice, crossed the Alps in the depth of winter, 
 and dictated a peace to Austria, after defeating her nume- 
 rous armies and baffling her most experienced generals. 
 No commander, in all the records of history, ever gained so 
 many splendid victories, in so short a time, and with such a 
 handful of men. The progress of Caesar in Gaul scarcely 
 equalled it in rapidity ; but Caesar fought against hardy, un- 
 disciplined barbarians, while Napoleon met the first troops 
 in Europe, commanded by the gallant Beaulieu, the veteran 
 Wurmser, and the Archduke Charles, the pride and hope of 
 Germany, at once cautious and enterprising. He had been 
 victorious in fourteen pitched battles and seventy engage- 
 ments ; he had destroyed three armies ; taken more than one 
 hundred thousand prisoners, and two thousand five hundred 
 cannon ; he had descended the Apennines ; he had crossed 
 and recrossedthe Alps ; and all this in the depth of winter ! 
 At Tarvis, where the flower of the Austrian army was beaten, 
 the battle was fought on snow three feet in depth. At Ulm, 
 Austerlitz, and Jena ; at Wagram and Dresden ; he merely 
 sustained the reputation he acquired at Castiglione and 
 Rivoli. 
 
68 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 It is true he may have been, and probably was, indebted 
 to circumstances for much of his success. But how hap- 
 pened it, that circumstances were always in his favor ? that 
 during a career of thirty years, he found himself always in 
 that precise situation which was best adapted to his personal 
 advancement ? The truth is, a strong mind can bend even 
 opposing circumstances to its will. It is not on the placid 
 stream of enjoyment, that the mind is wafted forward to 
 success ; but it is in the midst of strife, and contest, and diffi- 
 culty. It is in the storm and among the billows, that the 
 waters shine and sparkle. It is when all is darkness and 
 tumult above, when the winds rise and the seas roar, it is 
 then that the ship cuts for herself a path of light through the 
 waves, and leaves a long track of glory behind. 
 
 If I were his panegyrist, I should place his fame as a mag- 
 istrate upon the Napoleon Code, perhaps the best system of 
 laws that has ever been devised in any age, or among any 
 people. I say the best system, for such are the infinite num- 
 ber and variety of human concerns, that no system can be de- 
 vised, that will reach entirely one case in a hundred of the 
 subjects of litigation. The laws of every people must consist 
 in a great measure of usages, that is, of unwritten law, or 
 must be resolved into the arbitrary will of the magistrate. 
 While therefore I give all praise to the Napoleon Code, 1 by 
 no means admit its superiority to our Common Law, the no- 
 blest inheritance we have received from England. On the 
 contrary, it must be compared only with our Statute Book ; 
 and then (I hope our legislators will pardon me) all com- 
 parison would be ridiculous. 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 59 
 
 France is indebted to Napoleon for many works of great 
 utility and splendor ; for military roads ; for canals and 
 bridges ; for museums of natural history, and repositories of 
 the fine arts ; for palaces and hospitals ; for triumphal arch- 
 es and statues. But all these Egypt possessed in her Pha- 
 raohs ; in those nameless tyrants who erected the pyramids, 
 and excavated the lake Moeris. When a man has at com- 
 mand the wealth and service of forty millions of the human 
 race, it requires no great enterprise or philanthropy, to con- 
 struct magnificent public works. Even the licentious 
 Phryne coveted the glory of rebuilding Thebes from her 
 private wealth. She only required an inscription, that 
 " Phryne rebuilt what Alexander destroyed." 
 
 But it is in the moral condition of the people, that the 
 true effect of Napoleon's administration is to be sought. 
 There his splendors all vanish, or appear like the sickly 
 light that is sometimes emitted by vegetable matter, the ef- 
 fect of decay and rottenness. By centring all authority in 
 his own person, or in assemblies immediately nominated by 
 himself, he destroyed healthful excitement and emulation in 
 the distant parts of his empire. Paris became a new Rome. 
 All that Europe possessed of talents or enterprise, flocked 
 thither for employment; and all employment depended up- 
 on his will. He exacted the most servile flattery from all 
 who approached him, not from vanity, but because it gave 
 him proof of his power. He sent abroad the spirit of 
 servitude, and was never pleased but when he saw it ex- 
 tending, and diffusing itself through every rank in society, 
 and affecting every institution. It is apparent that he had a 
 
70 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 thorough contempt for mankind, and regarded them merely 
 as the instruments of his personal advancement. Hence his 
 neglect of promises and engagements ; his disregard of all 
 laws and treaties. Even his own Napoleon Code was a 
 dead letter, when it interfered with his personal views. 
 By that code a trial by jury is provided in all criminal 
 cases. But what jury had Pichegm or Moreau ? What 
 trial had the bookseller Palm, or the Due d'Enghien ? 
 
 His expedition to Egypt and Syria probably formed 
 his taste for oriental manners. Certain it is, no sovereign in 
 Europe preserved so much state and ceremony. His own 
 brothers were never permitted to sit in his presence. The 
 literary journals of Paris, which were published under his 
 immediate inspection, contained perpetual praises and ado- 
 rations of the emperor, that bordered upon blasphemy, and 
 such as no monarch had received since the dark ages. 
 The very children were taught a catechism, in which they 
 were instructed, that resistance to the will of the emperor 
 put in hazard their eternal salvation. That France resisted 
 at last, shows that some virtue still remained in her ; that she 
 submitted for fifteen years, proves that she was corrupt 
 almost to the core. 
 
 I have summoned from the pages of history, the distin- 
 guished men who have been the destroyers, or benefactors, 
 of their race. I have placed them in groups before me, and 
 have endeavoured to trace in their lineaments, the features of 
 Napoleon Buonaparte. In many I find some resemblance ; 
 and as I contemplate his character under different lights, I 
 am reminded successively of the ambition of Alexander, the 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 71 
 
 promptness of Ccesar, the stern self-confidence of Marius ; 
 I see him now affecting the splendor and literary taste of 
 the Medici ; and again surpassing Charles of Sweden in 
 presumption and fool-hardiness. But as a conqueror, I 
 think he is best compared with Mohammed. He made war 
 in the spirit of the Arabian prophet; the Koran or the 
 sword, the alternative of the one ; war or submission, the 
 threat of the other. In his treatment of the conquered, 
 while he affected to imitate the Romans by admitting them 
 to an alliance, it was not the Romans of the elder republic, 
 but degenerate Romans, who had been corrupted by the 
 conquest of Carthage. He took no pains to conciliate his 
 fallen enemies. It was sufficient that they feared him ; and 
 terror was employed to enforce the most merciless exac- 
 tions. 
 
 As a statesman he was rather adroit and cunning, than 
 wise and magnanimous. The acquisition of power had cor- 
 rupted his moral sentiments without enlarging his views. 
 Having no belief in the existence of human virtue, he used 
 no other means to compass his end than intimidation or 
 corruption. Hence all his treaties were false and hollow, 
 full of trick and knavery. He addressed himself to the 
 vices of those around him; to their basest passions, their 
 cowardice, their avarice, or their love of debauchery ; for, 
 as I have already stated, all his projects centred in his per- 
 sonal aggrandizement. 
 
 But all this has passed away. He, who made the nations 
 to tremble, has died in confinement and obscurity. He, 
 whose taste and magnificence created palaces and trium- 
 
72 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 phal monuments, has found a solitary grave in a distant 
 and barren rock ! 
 
 Of the effect of Napoleon Buonaparte upon the character 
 and happiness of mankind, it is yet too early to form any 
 opinion. We know that in the natural world, the lightning 
 and tempest, however desolating in their immediate effects, 
 are necessary to the purity and healthfulness of the atmo- 
 sphere. And so in the moral world, the occasional appear- 
 ance and success of a conqueror and usurper, may in the 
 providence of God, be productive of ultimate good. But 
 whatever opinion may be entertained of his personal char- 
 acter, or the effect of his administration, one reflection irre- 
 sistibly presses upon us. What is the value of ambition, 
 when directed to personal aggrandizement ? We have been 
 considering one instance of the most successful ambition 
 that the world ever saw. But what has it all come to ? How 
 is Napoleon Buonaparte better than the nameless thousands, 
 who are fattening the fields of Austerlitz and Jena ? What 
 is now the value of his iron crown and imperial sceptre ? 
 What was ever their value in the eyes of Him, at whose 
 glance crowns and sceptres crumble into dust, and thrones 
 and empires flee away as a shadow ? Oh, there is nothing 
 in life worth pursuit but personal improvement ; there is 
 nothing in life can give happiness, but personal virtue ! 
 
ON 
 
 THE SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS 
 WORSHIP. 
 
 " WHETHER LAWS WHICH COMPEL A MAN TO PAY TAXES 
 FOR THE SUPPORT OF PUBLIC WORSHIP, AND LEAVE 
 THE APPLICATION OF THE MONEY TO THE WILL OF A 
 MAJORITY, BE FOUNDED ON SOUND PRINCIPLES ? " 
 
 THE right of private property is founded upon the wants 
 of our nature, and the necessity of having some motive and 
 reward for industry. In what manner we get the first no- 
 tion of property, or how the present distribution of property 
 was first made in society, it is unnecessary now to inquire. 
 It is sufficient for my purpose to state the general principle, 
 which can hardly be controverted, that the whole society 
 has a right to the whole property which it possesses, and 
 that this whole property should be employed for the ad- 
 vancement of the common good. Among a horde of sav- 
 ages, where property is consumed as fast as it is produced, 
 there is no accumulation, and consequently no distribution 
 of property. But among nations who have enjoyed the 
 blessings of civilization, there is a great accumulation of 
 
 10 
 
74 SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 
 
 property, and it is distributed among different classes and 
 individuals in society, as the local situation, the manners, 
 and habits of the several nations require. Laws are never 
 arbitrary rules, but spring naturally from circumstances that 
 have previously existed. We shall find therefore in every 
 nation, the distribution of property regulated by what is, or is 
 supposed to be, the common good. In most of the nations 
 of Europe, the lands of the father descend to the eldest son, 
 to the exclusion of younger sons ; and to the remotest male 
 relative to* the exclusion even of daughters. Under the 
 feudal system there was a good reason for this arrange- 
 ment. The possessor of lands was bound to perform mili- 
 tary service ; and an elder son was generally better able to 
 be a soldier, from his age and experience, than younger 
 children. For the same reason, females were always ex- 
 cluded. But personal property, consisting chiefly of 
 household goods and provisions, was divided equally among 
 all ; for all equally needed the means of present subsist- 
 ence. 
 
 When, in the fifteenth century, the Turk first encamped 
 in Europe, he came at the head of a hostile army, seized 
 the countries of the vanquished, and reduced their inhabit- 
 ants to slavery. It was inconsistent with the discipline of a 
 military life, to permit the soldiers to acquire a permanent 
 property in land, and to settle as peaceful farmers. The 
 whole land therefore was seized as the common property of 
 the whole, and the Sultan parcelled it out from year to year, 
 as the wants or the merit of his soldiers required. At the 
 present day, the Grand Seignior is proprietor of all the soil, 
 
SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 75 
 
 and every subject pays him an annual rent for its posses- 
 sion. 
 
 Two centuries ago, when our ancestors came to this 
 country, they brought with them more enlightened views of 
 the public good, and permitted every individual to retain 
 whatever portion of the bounties of nature he could appro- 
 priate to his own use ; but still subject to the simple regula- 
 tions which the majority imposed. 
 
 I have brought these examples to prove that property ev- 
 ery where belongs to the whole society, and never abso- 
 lutely to individuals ; and that the mode of distributing 
 property among individuals is every where regulated by the 
 circumstances of the whole society. In England, the eldest 
 son inherits the whole property, because a wealthy aristoc- 
 racy is necessary for the support and regulation of the mon- 
 archy ; and a monarchy is thought essential to the public 
 good. In this country, property is divided equally among 
 all the children, because a wealthy aristocracy would be 
 fatal to our republican institutions, and a republic is thought 
 necessary for the public good. Property then is every 
 where subject to the claims of the whole society ; and no 
 tax is an infringement of the rights of property, which is 
 levied for the promotion of a public good, and is assessed 
 equally upon all. 
 
 Is then the existence of public worship a public good ? 
 This is the first question to be answered. When men as- 
 semble in a Christian country to join in public worhip, 
 they recognise the existence and moral government of the 
 Deity. I shall not waste your time by attempting to prove, 
 
76 SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 
 
 what will at once be granted, that a belief in these doctrines 
 is essential to the security of society, and lies at the founda- 
 tion of all our institutions ; and that a recognition of these 
 principles, at stated intervals, does much to impress them 
 upon the mind. I wish to go farther. Public worship 
 among us is an expression of belief in the Christian revela- 
 tion ; and I consider Christianity as a means of moral and 
 intellectual improvement, as the great source of civilization 
 and refinement, and of course as the principal branch of 
 public education. It is one of the glories of Christianity, 
 and, to my apprehension, one of the proofs of its divine origin, 
 that it is always in advance of society. Go to the humblest 
 CafTre or New-Zealander, who has scarcely intelligence 
 enough to construct a rude habitation, or prepare for him- 
 self wholesome food, and Christianity has precepts and mo- 
 tives for him, which he can understand and feel ; and it has 
 something, too, which elevates him above his former condi- 
 tion, which gives him new thoughts, new hopes, and urges 
 him forward to higher attainments. Ascend from him 
 through the several gradations of talent and knowledge, till 
 you come to the strongest powers and the most unclouded 
 intelligence, to Locke and Newton, and I can go no high- 
 er, and Christianity is still beyond them. It has still 
 something to tell of the nature and attributes of the Deity, 
 of the moral character and future destiny of man, and of the 
 past history of the human race, which even they have not 
 discovered. When their minds were excited to the highest 
 activity, and extended to the utmost stretch of their powers, 
 Christianity still retained its original grandeur. They had 
 
SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 77 
 
 risen above others, but they were still as far as ever from 
 grasping it in its whole extent; as one who climbs a moun- 
 tain finds the arch of heaven as broad and as grand, as when 
 viewed from the humble valley from which he ascended. 
 Nor is Christianity merely the source of intellectual ad- 
 vancement ; it is equally the spring of moral and social im- 
 provement. Who is there among us, to whom it does not 
 prescribe duties which we have not yet performed ? What 
 benevolence is so active, as to have explored all the ave- 
 nues of Christian charity ? To Christianity, we are indebt- 
 ed for hospitals, asylums, retreats for the insane ; for free 
 schools; for charitable societies. None of these were 
 known before the promulgation of Christianity, or are found 
 at present in heathen countries. To Christianity we owe 
 the Bible Societies and Sunday Schools and Savings Banks 
 of the present age. These were unknown in the last gener- 
 ation; and think you that we have already attained to 
 Christian perfection ? that there is nothing beyond us ? that 
 no institutions can be founded, no associations be formed, 
 no plan be devised for the further improvement of so- 
 ciety ? Oh no ; let every man, or even let a small body 
 of men act out the Christian character in its full ex- 
 tent, and see. The time is coming, when the necessary 
 progress of Christian intelligence and benevolence will 
 give rise to institutions and produce effects upon society, 
 of which we cannot now conceive. Consider what has al- 
 ready been done. Our ancestors confined all their cares to 
 the relief of bodily suffering. The first founder of a hospi- 
 tal probably thought that he had done every thing that 
 
78 SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 
 
 could be done for the alleviation of human misery. It did 
 not enter his mind that any thing could be done to prevent 
 evil. Yet we have become familiar with free schools and 
 savings banks ; which have already done more for society 
 than all the hospitals that ever were endowed. 
 
 After all, the only mode of producing permanent improve- 
 ment is by acting upon the mind. Relieve the wants of a 
 miserable man, and you do good, indeed ; but it is a tran- 
 sient good. He dies, and it is over. But impart one new 
 thought, impress one new principle, and it continues for 
 ever. It affects, in some way or other, his conversation or 
 behaviour. He imparts it to those around him, he communi- 
 cates it to his children, he becomes the centre of a circle 
 perpetually enlarging ; and the leaven has been insensibly 
 diffused through society, when even its existence was scarce- 
 ly suspected. In our estimation of human character and 
 improvement, we ascribe too much to great events and 
 splendid examples. Great events are always the con- 
 sequence of a thousand little events that have previously 
 occurred ; or are only the simultaneous effect of a thousand 
 little events ; as the explosion of a magazine is only the sep- 
 arate burning of minute particles of powder. When a strik- 
 ing reformation is produced in society, it is not the reform- 
 er who effects it ; he is merely the instrument by which 
 society reforms itself; the organ by which it collects, com- 
 bines, and expresses the thoughts which have been floating 
 for many years, in innumerable minds. At the commence- 
 ment of our revolution, when the tea-ships arrived at Boston, 
 the cry of liberty and resistance to oppression resounded 
 
SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 70, 
 
 from Massachusetts to Georgia. Think you the same ef- 
 fects would have been produced in the West Indies or Ire- 
 land, if those ships had gone there ? No, indeed. Our rev- 
 olution had been preparing for three centuries. It began 
 with John Huss and Wickliffe ; and every sturdy indepen- 
 dent who refused to wear a square cap and surplice at the 
 command of a bishop, was hastening the progress of poli- 
 tical independence among his followers and descendants. 
 If such be the effect of public opinion, even the humblest of 
 us may aspire to the glory of reforming the age. We may 
 not indeed be the priests to apply the torch to the sacrifice, 
 but we can at least lay the wood upon the altar. We can 
 profess our attachment to Christianity, and we can each, in 
 our respective circles, make a favorable impression of its 
 character and influence. 
 
 But in what manner can Christianity be taught with such 
 assurance of success, as by the regular continuance of public 
 worship ? Would you leave it to the silent operation of the 
 Bible ? The Bible indeed, if diligently and understandingly 
 read, can do every thing. But who shall select its appro- 
 priate parts ? who shall explain its difficulties, and bring 
 home its sanctions ? And who, amidst the cares, and con- 
 flicts, and passions of life, shall ensure its being generally 
 read? But all this is effected in a good degree in our 
 churches ; a portion of the Scriptures is always read ; and 
 whatever may be the sermon, yet in the reading and the 
 prayers, some scriptural knowledge is communicated, and 
 some devotional feelings excited. It is perhaps not an un- 
 frequent occurrence, that attention is arrested where none 
 
80 SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 
 
 was intended to be given ; and that some, " who came to 
 scoff, remain to pray." 
 
 If, then, the support of public worship be for the public 
 good (and in this I hope I have your entire acquiescence), 
 should this object be effected by a compulsory tax, or be left 
 to voluntary contributions ? If mankind were perfect, or even 
 approached perfection, we should say at once, By voluntary 
 contributions. But have we chosen to intrust any of our 
 political institutions to voluntary contributions ? Do we leave 
 our courts of justice, our prisons, and houses of correction, 
 to be maintained by those who think it for the good of soci- 
 ety that crimes should be punished ? Do we leave our poor 
 to the operations of private benevolence ? Have we thought 
 it safe to intrust our schools to the support of uncertain 
 contributions ? Do we not, on the contrary, tax every man in 
 society for the education of children ; because education is 
 a great public blessing ? Do we not, in effect, oblige the rich 
 to educate the children of the poor, by assessing the school- 
 tax in proportion to the amount of their property ? And do 
 we not defend this, on the ground that they are interested 
 in public morality in proportion to the amount of their prop- 
 erty ? Carry then this principle to its necessary consequen- 
 ces, and my point is gained. The public worship of the 
 Deity is a part of public education. A church is a school 
 for men ; and a school of far more importance than those in 
 which the elements of human learning are taught. 
 
 I can imagine but one possible objection to such a tax ; it 
 may be thought to infringe the rights of conscience. But is 
 not conscience interested in the support of public morality ? 
 
SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. gl 
 
 Are conscientious scruples to be admitted against the ex- 
 istence of a useful public institution ? But how is conscience 
 at all affected by it ? If the person who makes the objec- 
 tion belong to the majority, he acquiesces in the disposal of 
 the money, and has no cause of complaint ; if, on the other 
 hand, he belong to the minority, the money is applied with- 
 out his consent, and his conscience is not violated by its dis- 
 posal. He may indeed believe that the money was not so 
 well expended as it might have been, a common subject of 
 complaint in all public institutions ; but his conscience has 
 no concern with it. It is for the majority, who expend the 
 money, to settle the matter with their consciences. They, 
 and they alone, are accountable for its misuse. 
 
 But the whole objection would proceed, it appears to me, 
 from a narrow view of the tendency and effects of Chris- 
 tianity. It assumes, as a principle, not merely that there is 
 but one form of Christianity which a man can personally 
 profess, but that having made his choice among rival sects, 
 he is bound in good conscience to wage unrelenting war 
 against all others. But such I apprehend is not the char- 
 acter of our religion. She is not found exclusively in this 
 conventicle, or in that cloister; but she walks abroad 
 through the earth and mingles freely with men of every na- 
 tion and of every profession. There is a redeeming spirit 
 in Christianity, which renders it an unspeakable blessing, 
 even in the most corrupt form in which it has ever yet ap- 
 peared. It may be that its followers havs enrolled them- 
 selves under different banners and have acquired their 
 
 11 
 
82 SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 
 
 discipline under leaders of various names, but they are all 
 marching under the standard of the cross. 
 
 But it may be said that religion is a personal concern be- 
 tween man and his Maker, and that human laws have noth- 
 ing to do with its regulation. I grant it ; and therefore no 
 man should be compelled to worship contrary to the dic- 
 tates of his own conscience. But supporting public wor- 
 ship by law, is not compelling any individual to join in it. 
 Public schools are supported by law, but no man is com- 
 pelled to send his children to them. If he prefer instruction 
 of a different kind, or from other teachers than those whom 
 the public provides, he procures it at his own expense. No 
 man complains of this ; for every man is indirectly benefit- 
 ed by the education of his neighbour's children. But the 
 analogy between schools and public worship is complete. 
 They are both for the purpose of giving public instruction ; 
 and if one cannot safely be left to voluntary contributions for 
 its support, so neither can the other. 
 
 If I have been at all successful in the preceding argu- 
 ment, I have established the following propositions. 
 
 That all property is justly liable to taxation for the com- 
 mon benefit. 
 
 That it is no violation of individual rights, to take private 
 property for any object of public good, by laws which ope- 
 rate equally on all. 
 
 That the support of public worship under any form of 
 Christianity is a public benefit. 
 
 That this cannot be obtained in any way so effectually, as 
 by general and equal taxation. 
 
SUPPORT OF PUBLIC RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 83 
 
 And that the leaving this money to be applied according 
 to the will of a majority does not infringe the rights of con- 
 science. 
 
 Consequently, laws which compel a man to pay taxes for 
 the support of public worship, and leave the application of 
 the money to the will of the majority, are founded on sound 
 principles. 
 
ON "OLD MORTALITY. 
 
 " WHICH OF THE WAVERLEY NOVELS HAS THE GREATEST 
 MERIT, ' OLD MORTALITY ' OR ' GUY MANNERING ' ? " 
 
 IT is now about ten years since " Waverley " first attract- 
 ed the public attention. In this novel the characters were 
 drawn with so much strength and precision, there was so 
 much life and freshness in the portraits, the sentiments 
 were, in general, so accommodated to real life, that it gave 
 at once a new direction to public taste. If " Waverley " 
 alone had been written, it would have had a crowd of imi- 
 tators, and its influence would have been traced in the suc- 
 cession of English novels. But followed, as it has been, by 
 others of the same character, and coming, as they have, 
 volume upon volume, scarcely leaving us time to discriminate 
 the merits of one, before another of equal pretensions has 
 demanded our admiration ; they have produced an impres- 
 sion on literature and taste, which cannot be measured, and 
 can scarcely be conceived. As the Waverley novels have 
 composed nearly half the literature of the last ten years, 
 it may be that they have assumed in our minds a dispropor- 
 tionate magnitude ; as the lightning which incessantly flash- 
 
ON OLD MORTALITY. Q5 
 
 es, appears to fill the whole atmosphere with flame, though 
 it dart only from a single cloud. Yet, after making every 
 deduction, the Waverley novels must produce a great and 
 lasting impression. They are universally read ; and what 
 pleases the many, must be founded in the principles of our 
 common nature. I speak not of their moral impression ; 
 that would of itself afford the subject of a dissertation. But 
 thus much I am bound in conscience to declare, that great- 
 ly as I admire them as works of genius, I cannot admit, 
 without great hesitation, their claims to a perfectly pure mo- 
 rality. Their beneficial effect upon society is indirect, op- 
 erating through the taste and imagination. Vice is gross 
 and sensual ; and whatever has a tendency to exalt the intel- 
 lectual nature, is indirectly favorable to virtue. It is, be- 
 sides, the duty of every individual to cultivate all his mental 
 powers ; and poetry and works of fiction, which are address- 
 ed to the imagination the inventive power, as it has been 
 aptly called, become a necessary instrument of intellectual 
 education. 
 
 But whatever may be our judgment of the direct moral 
 tendency of the Waverley novels, it is certain that novels will 
 be read, and that we have none better than these. If not 
 irreproachable, they are, with some exceptions which I shall 
 hereafter name, free from any very gross faults ; tried by 
 the standard of a pure morality, they rise much above 
 the great mass of English literature. Of their merit as 
 works of genius, there is but one opinion. The author of 
 " Waverley " has already taken his rank by the side of Shak- 
 speare. He has become the great improver or corrupter of 
 
86 ON OLD MORTALITY. " 
 
 our taste ; and it is well worth the labor to inquire what ef- 
 fect his writings produce on our minds, and how that effect 
 is produced. It is sufficient perhaps for the happiness of 
 the moment, to be pleased, we know not why and care not 
 wherefore. But if we aim at intellectual improvement, we 
 must sometimes examine the sources of our pleasure, and 
 mark with some precision the subjects of our approbation. 
 It is with this view, that the comparative merit of two of 
 the Waverley novels has been selected for discussion this 
 evening. It is manifestly impossible to dwell upon most of 
 the topics which at once rush into the mind. We can, at 
 best, present but a very imperfect sketch of some of the 
 principal subjects of remark. Still something may be done 
 to guide our judgment. 
 
 The novels selected for comparison at the present time, 
 are " Old Mortality " and " Guy Mannering." Why are we 
 pleased with the one rather than with the other ? From the 
 very nature of the question, it is apparent, that each of us 
 must hope for victory, rather from the strength of his own 
 cause than from the weakness of that of his opponent. It is 
 my part to point out some of the peculiar merits of " Old 
 Mortality " ; and I feel happy in knowing that this can be 
 done, without derogating in the smallest degree from the 
 just and high claims of " Guy Mannering." 
 
 In claiming for " Old Mortality " a preeminence over the 
 other works of this wonderful writer, I rest my opinion, first, 
 on the character of John Balfour of Burley. It derogates 
 nothing from the merit of the author, that the hint for this 
 character was probably derived from those of Oliver Crom- 
 
ON " OLD MORTALITY. " g7 
 
 well and John Knox. It undoubtedly increases the interest 
 of the work, as an historical painting is viewed with more 
 pleasure when the principal figures are recognised to be 
 portraits. Balfour of Burley is a powerful delineation of 
 one of the most difficult characters that ever warmed the 
 imagination of a poet. He was to be a patriot, yet in arms 
 against his countrymen. He was to be devout, yet steep- 
 ed to the lips in human blood. He was to contend, to the 
 last throb of life, for civil liberty and the purity of his little 
 sectarian church, and yet was to make common cause with 
 the Papists and the friends of the Stuarts. He was to be 
 at once a fanatic and a crafty politician. He was to play 
 off upon his followers the delusions of religious enthusiasm, 
 and to be at the same time the victim of his own heated 
 imagination. He was to esteem it a religious duty to re- 
 press the feelings of our common nature, and at the same 
 time to feel the stings of remorse for performing that duty. 
 In fine, he was to unite much practical knavery with a state 
 of much practical religious excitement. He was to be hon- 
 est enough to impose upon himself, and knave enough to 
 impose upon others. 
 
 This brief sketch sufficiently shows the difficulty of the 
 task. It required no ordinary talents to conceive such a 
 character; but the hand of a master alone, could have trac- 
 ed it out in all its proportions. There is nothing so difficult 
 in fictitious writing as to mingle the shades of good and evil. 
 The talent in Shakspeare which is most conspicuous, and in 
 which he has been hitherto unrivalled, is the power of re- 
 presenting wisdom and folly, virtue and vice, coexisting in 
 
88 ON OLD MORTALITY. " 
 
 the same person, without neutralizing their effects. We do 
 not utterly despise FalstafF, though a coward, nor Prince 
 Hal, though intemperate and dissolute. These base and 
 vulgar traits are partly redeemed by the honest wit of the 
 one, and the magnanimity of the other. In like manner, 
 while we abhor the ferocious ambition of Richard, we can- 
 not but feel respect for the inextinguishable energy of feel- 
 ing, which led him, poor, deformed, and despised as he was, 
 to grasp at a crown. 
 
 It is in delineating these mixed characters, that great tal- 
 ents are discovered ; and none but great talents ever venture 
 to grapple with them. A thousand Sir Charles Grandi- 
 sons, in faultless and graceful perfection, may be found in 
 the immeasurable mass of English novels. It is a mighty 
 easy matter to make a graceful young man put his hand 
 upon his heart and protest to Grandmama Shirley that Miss 
 Byron is an angel, or to give him a velvet cloak and a 
 white plume and send him forth to strut as Thaddeus of 
 Warsaw or a Scottish Chief. In the greater part of modern 
 novels, when the hero has been named and clothed, the 
 whole work of invention is exhausted. You understand at 
 once, that he is to be very beautiful and very faultless, that 
 he is to be deeply in love, and find it very hard to get 
 married ; but you are very sure, somewhere about the end 
 of the third volume, to find all difficulties overcome, all 
 quarrels made up, and every body very good, very loving, 
 and very happy. Thanks to Sir Walter Scott, much of this 
 trash has akeady passed into oblivion ; and if his novels 
 continue to be read, the whole race of Miss Porter's and 
 
ON "OLD MORTALITY. " 39 
 
 Miss Owenson's will cease to be heard of in the next 
 generation. 
 
 To understand the full strength of Balfour of Burley's 
 character, it is necessary to consider a little the character of 
 the times in which he is supposed to have lived, and of 
 the party which he espoused. From the first dawn of the 
 reformation, when enthusiasm began to take the place of su- 
 perstition, a belief in direct miraculous inspiration was more 
 or less common ; the majority of the reformed made it an 
 article of their belief, and men were taught to expect an- 
 swers to their prayers, not in the general improvement of 
 their virtue, but in the happening of the particular event 
 which they desired. It was a natural consequence, from 
 the admission of these principles, that the impulse of strong 
 passions was mistaken for inspiration ; and that a warm im- 
 agination frequently converted an unexpected event into an 
 apparent miracle. The early reformers were placed in cir- 
 cumstances of great difficulty. Much of their lives was 
 passed in the tumults and terrors and intoxication of war. 
 They were always banded together against an enemy ; and 
 even their worship and their prayers partook of a military 
 spirit. This spirit descended in its full strength upon the 
 Puritans of England and the Cameronians of Scotland. 
 Always a persecuted people, driven from their homes and 
 firesides, and, like the early Christians, compelled to per- 
 form religious worship in the darkness of midnight, or in the 
 remote solitude of mountains and caves, it is not wonderful 
 that they indulged in a morbid excitement of feeling, and 
 mingled the earthly passions of the warrior with the hum- 
 
 12 
 
90 ON OLD MORTALITY. " 
 
 ble piety of the saint. The Scriptures, then recently un- 
 locked to the common people, and brought to them in their 
 own language, possessed for them the charm of novelty, in 
 a degree, which we, who have been familiar with them from 
 our cradles, can scarcely understand. The Bible was to 
 them almost a new revelation just made from heaven. Ev- 
 ery word was listened to with trembling eagerness. The 
 strong conceptions and magnificent imaginations of the Pro- 
 phets and the Apocalypse, were peculiarly suited to their 
 character and circumstances. They soon found or fancied 
 an analogy between their circumstances and those of the 
 people of Israel ; and from the habit of using the language 
 of Scripture in common conversation, they soon learned to 
 make a personal application to themselves, of the com- 
 mands and threatenings and promises of the Old Testa- 
 ment. 
 
 Balfour of Burley is designed to represent an individual 
 of this class, with all the powers and all the passions of his 
 nature called into intense action. The period selected for 
 his appearance was one in which all the elements of civil 
 society were mingled. Rank and fortune had lost much 
 of their accustomed respect ; the teachers of religion no 
 longer sought J to dazzle the senses by the splendors of 
 external worship, but were aiming by a wild and daring elo- 
 quence, an impetuous zeal, and an imposing severity of sen- 
 timent and manners, to acquire undisputed dominion of the 
 heart. The two great parties which divided the nation, were 
 forcibly contrasted with each other. On the one hand, a 
 gay and thoughtless race followed the fortunes and support- 
 
ON "OLD MORTALITY." 91 
 
 ed the cruelties of a profane, licentious, and oppressive 
 court ; and on the other, a band of sturdy patriots contend- 
 ed at once for civil liberty, for pure morals, and an elevat- 
 ed faith. Balfour of Burley was the champion of the 
 oppressed party ; and, like Cromwell, he embodied in him- 
 self the high religious profession of some of his followers, 
 and the warm political zeal of others ; while his fierce intol- 
 erance was derived rather from the narrow bigotry of Knox, 
 than from the liberal policy of the Protector of England. 
 
 In the management of this, his principal character, the 
 author has finely contrasted his dark and powerful genius 
 with the generous enthusiasm of Morton himself engaged 
 in the same cause, and with the gentle manners and chiv- 
 alrous loyalty of Evandale, almost a portrait of the real 
 Falkland. On other occasions, too, the fierce and impetu- 
 ous spirit of Burley, rushing into the hottest of the fight, 
 and moving heaven and earth to compass his ends, is exhib' 
 ited in opposition to the cool self-possession of Claverhouse, 
 who never loses the refinement and polish of a court, while 
 he is pouring out blood like water. 
 
 I have dwelt so long upon this masterly conception of Bur- 
 ley, that I shall have but little time to devote to the subordi- 
 nate actors in the story. Next to Burley, the best drawn 
 character in the tale is undoubtedly Cuddie Headrigg. In- 
 imitable Cuddie ! so faithful and true and simple ! From 
 the days of Sancho Panza, the literature of Europe may be - 
 searched in vain for his equal. From his first appearance 
 in disguise, at the Wappen-schaw of Clydesdale, when he 
 professed that he " maun do his best, for Jenny Dennison is 
 
92 ON "OLD MORTALITY." 
 
 looking at us " through all his adventures in battle, " those 
 moving accidents by flood and field," when the same Jenny 
 Dennison assailed his person with a kettle of hot broth, 
 ("I ken weel that ye like your brose het, Cuddie ") 
 down to that last moment of exemplary matrimonial submis- 
 sion, when he murmured to Jenny, " And now I hae 
 gotten a wife, and she 's like to take the guiding o' me a' 
 thegither" there is the same honest devotion to the welfare 
 his master, the same implicit confidence in his judgment, 
 the same indifference to the public events of the times, and 
 the same simple and amusing selfishness, that distinguished 
 the renowned squire of La Mancha. 
 
 In our intercourse with mankind, we often find a great 
 deal of shrewdness and cunning, concealed under a very 
 dull exterior. They whose minds are limited in their range, 
 and whose attention has been directed to a very small num- 
 ber of objects cannot easily be excited to new pursuits, or be 
 made to comprehend any new subject. Of course, when 
 removed from their usual sphere of action, they appear to 
 be torpid, and absolutely incapable of thought. Yet when 
 any occasion arises that touches deeply their interests, and 
 comes home to their former employment and domestic 
 feelings, their natural sagacity returns, and appears to be 
 intense in proportion to the limited extent of its opera- 
 tions. An amusing instance of this untaught sagacity and 
 cunning, occurs in the scene at old Milnwood's, when Both- 
 well puts the test of political and religious principle to the 
 several members of the family. 
 
ON " OLD MORTALITY. " 93 
 
 'Do you renunce the Covenant, good woman?" ad- 
 dressing himself to Cuddie's mother. 
 
 " Whilk covenant is your honor meaning ? Is it the cov- 
 enant of works or the covenant of grace ? " said Cuddie, in- 
 terposing. 
 
 " Any covenant, all covenants that ever were hatched," 
 said the trooper. 
 
 " Mither," cried Cuddie, affecting to speak as a deaf 
 person, " the gentleman wants to ken if ye will renounce the 
 covenant of works ? " 
 
 " With a' my heart, Cuddie, " said Mause, " and pray 
 that my feet may be delivered from the snare thereof." 
 
 Among the pleasures of taste, there is none more open to 
 observation, and none more frequently the subject of re- 
 mark, than that arising from contrast. But it is not suffi- 
 cient merely to bring together objects possessing different 
 or opposing qualities. They must have many relations of 
 resemblance, as well as of opposition. In the delineation of 
 character, as in landscape painting, while different colors 
 are employed, they must blend with each other and harmo- 
 nize as a whole. And herein is a distinguishing excellence 
 of the work under consideration. The characters are 
 strongly and finely contrasted ; but though the different ex- 
 tremes of human passion and conduct are described, there 
 is no discrepancy in the whole. The master's hand passes 
 rapidly from the highest to the lowest note, but there is no 
 discord, no jar. In the royal army, Claverhouse and Evandale 
 are equally brave and accomplished ; but the polished man- 
 ners, and formal courtesy, and indifference to human life, of 
 
94 ON "OLD MORTALITY." 
 
 the one, who, in the same breath, orders four prisoners to be 
 taken from the room and shot, and his horse to be well tak- 
 en care of, " for he is a little galled by the saddle," are 
 very different from the strong feeling, simple manners, and 
 generous temper of the other ; while both are distinguished 
 from the high breeding and relenting tenderness of Mon- 
 motith. And in the army of the covenant, what finer con- 
 trast could be presented than the wild fanaticism and un- 
 sparing vengeance of Burley, with the generous forbearance 
 and rational piety of Morton ! The preachers too, in the 
 council of war, are all individuals, presenting characters 
 and sustaining parts as different as their respective names. 
 Macbriar, and Poundtext, and Kettledrummle, are alike in 
 their profession and in the general outlines of their charac- 
 ters, and yet as distinct as Major Bellenden and John Gud- 
 yill, or as Serjeant Bothwell and Tarn Halliday. Edith 
 Bellenden, unassuming, gentle, and confiding j and her aunt, 
 vain, haughty, and proud of her birth ; Jenny Dennison 
 (the queen of chambermaids), artful, pert, and coquettish ; 
 Janet Blane, simple and bashful ; Mause Headrigg, the 
 the victim of an overstrained imagination, presenting in her 
 wild ravings the glowing thoughts and overwhelming emo- 
 tions of a lofty but perverted understanding ; and the quiet 
 resignation and subdued spirit of Bessie Maclure, a 
 sufferer in the same cause, are all contrasted in a strong but 
 mellow light. And what could be more happily imagined 
 than the careless prodigality of Bothwell, who never left a 
 tavern while his purse was heavy enough " to chuck over 
 the signpost ; " and the inveterate parsimony of Milnwood, 
 
ON "OLD MORTALITY." 95 
 
 who expired, muttering to himself, that a " dipt candle 
 would have given light enough to die by." 
 
 I have thus far considered only the first conception and 
 cast of character in this powerful work ; it may now be re- 
 marked, that the business in which they are engaged, the 
 part they have to perform, is of a dignified order. The 
 action of the story is a civil war, which really occurred, 
 and was carried on very much as is described in the 
 novel. It has therefore the dignity of historical relation, 
 and almost the charm of truth. In " Guy Mannering," on 
 the contrary, the interest of the story turns upon an astro- 
 logical prediction ; and disguise it as you will, the author 
 has represented Colonel Mannering as possessed of super- 
 human knowledge. This detracts much from the interest 
 as well as the dignity of the narrative. Once go into the 
 region of fairy-land, and it is a comparatively easy matter 
 to frame a plot, or extricate a hero from embarrassment. 
 But in " Old Mortality," nothing surpasses the limits of 
 probability. Those who are familiar with the details of 
 British history, from the middle of the sixteenth to the 
 middle of the seventeenth century, may bring themselves 
 to believe, without much difficulty, that every thing might 
 have happened precisely as described by the novelist. 
 Can the same be affirmed of " Guy Mannering ? " 
 
 The conduct of the story in " Old Mortality " is strictly 
 regular, and open to very few objestions. Burley, the mas- 
 ter-spirit, appears early on the scene, and exerts from the 
 first a commanding influence upon the fortunes of the whole. 
 Every successive incident, however trifling in itself, is 
 
96 ON "OLD MORTALITY." 
 
 made to bear upon the main story, and contribute to the 
 developement of the plot. Even the amusing disaster of 
 Goose Gibbie at the Wappen-schaw was not a harmless frol- 
 ic ; it led to the expulsion of Cuddie and his mother from 
 the estate of Lady Margaret Bellenden, to their recep- 
 tion in the family of Milnwood, to the arrest of Henry 
 Morton by Serjeant Bothwell, and, in its consequences, to 
 the elevation of Morton to a command in the army of the 
 Covenanters. In like manner, almost every incident is 
 made to carry on the action of the tale ; and in reviewing 
 the whole story, it is difficult to say, what incident could 
 have been spared without injury to the whole. But there 
 are several scenes of such bold conception, so eloquently 
 and vividly painted, scenes which make so deep and last- 
 ing an impression, and recur so often to the fancy, that I 
 should certainly be unfaithful to my cause, if I did not at 
 least suggest them to your remembrance. Who that has 
 read it, can forget the desperate encounter between Bur- 
 ley and Bothwell at the fight of Drumclog, when in the des- 
 peration and agony of a mortal conflict, horses repeatedly 
 passed over them, as they grappled together on the ground, 
 without unclenching their grasp ? Or who can forget the 
 appearance of Burley in the stable at Milnwood, on the 
 morning after Morton had sheltered him from the pursuit of 
 his enemies, when in his sleep he appeared to be acting 
 over again the murder of Sharpe, his whole frame agitat- 
 ed with intense emotion, the drops of sweat upon his brow, 
 his right hand clenched and making abortive efforts to 
 strike, while his left was convulsively pushing away a 
 
ON "OLD MORTALITY." 97 
 
 suppliant from his knees ; " Cling not to my knees ! hew 
 him down ! put him out of pain, were it but for the sake 
 of his grey hairs." 
 
 Or that still more powerful scene in the cave, where Bur- 
 ley made his solitary and savage abode, after the final defeat 
 of his party, and the disappointment of his hopes. His 
 strong and athletic form, and his stern countenance, render- 
 ed more ferocious by the addition of a grizzly beard, and 
 seen by the red light of a charcoal fire, while with a Bible 
 in one hand and a drawn sword in the other, he appeared 
 to strive for life and death, with a mortal foe, it is a picture 
 which one almost shudders to conceive. But I will venture 
 to say, that your blood has curdled in your veins, as you 
 read of Burley's springing forward in his frenzy, and throw- 
 ing down the narrow bridge, which gave the only means of 
 access to his craggy cave, and as you heard it thundering and 
 crashing in the abyss below. 
 
 In the whole compass of English fiction, T do not know 
 a scene of deeper or more intense interest, than that which 
 occurred at the solitary farm-house, after the defeat at 
 Bothwell Bridge, when Morton found himself unexpect- 
 edly in the presence of ten or twelve armed Cameroni- 
 ans, who, while " mourning for the desolation and cap- 
 tivity of the land, and searching out the causes of wrath 
 and of defection," were disposed to ascribe their recent dis- 
 comfiture to his Erastian principles. Their deep and 
 gloomy silence, their dark brows, and stern demeanour, 
 chill the blood in reading. " l You bend strange counte- 
 nances on me, gentlemen,' said Morton, addressing them. 
 13 
 
98 ON " OLD MORTALITY. " 
 
 4 Out upon thee ! out upon thee ! ' exclaimed Muckle- 
 wrath, starting up. ' We have prayed, and wrestled, and 
 petitioned, for an offering to atone the sins of the congrega- 
 tion ; and lo ! the very head of the offence is delivered in- 
 to our hand. He hath burst in like a thief through the 
 window , he is a ram caught in the thicket, whose blood shall 
 be a drink-offering, to redeem vengeance from the church. 
 Up, then, and bind the victim with cords to the horns of the 
 altar ! ' " He was accordingly seized and bound, and after a 
 short examination, was sentenced to death ; but as the Sab- 
 bath had not yet passed, his execution was delayed until the 
 clock should strike twelve. He was then placed at the 
 table, so as to be opposite the clock which was to sound his 
 knell. The whole party placed themselves around him, 
 preserving a dead and stern silence ; while, ever and anon, 
 dark and impatient looks were turned to the dial-plate, to 
 catch the signal for his execution. The blood runs cold at 
 the bare imagination of it. Let it come upon you when 
 you are alone, in the night, or in that dubious twilight, when 
 the visions of fancy are imbodied and stand before you 
 in the fulness and strength of real existence, and you will 
 feel that the author has opened all the springs of pity and 
 terror. 
 
 But it is time for me to draw to a conclusion ; I had in- 
 tended to speak of Habakkuk Mucklewrath, whose wild and 
 impassioned address to the Covenanters, after the fight of 
 Drumclog, might well be compared with the Sibylline de- 
 nunciations of Meg Merrilies, and whose whole appearance 
 and character is a splendid poetical conception. But I for- 
 
ON " OLD MORTALITY. " QQ 
 
 bear. I will only trespass upon your time for a few remarks, 
 which the mention of this character naturally excites. 
 
 The two prevalent and kindred vices in the Waverley 
 novels, are the abuse of Scripture language, and the fre- 
 quent recurrence of profane expressions. I defend them 
 in neither. But with regard to the first, which prevails 
 more in " Old Mortality " than in the other tales, it should 
 be remembered that it was the fault of the times which the 
 author described. In the debates of the Long Parliament, 
 as frequent and revolting misapplications of Scripture lan- 
 guage were made, as in the novel of Scott. It is the com- 
 mon fault of fanatics, and occurs in all ages, and in all 
 countries. We have known a preacher in our crwn neigh- 
 bourhood, who, a few years ago, would not suffer his leg 
 to be amputated, till he found a warrant for it in the 
 Book of Psalms : " He delighteth not in the strength of a 
 horse ; he taketh not pleasure in the legs of a man." As to 
 the use of profane expressions, the common cursing and 
 swearing, which, to the disgrace of the author, is found in all 
 the Waverley novels, I cannot advert to it, without strong in- 
 dignation. It is mean, gross, vulgar, wicked. When I 
 think of the splendid genius of Scott, his exquisite concep- 
 tion of character and manners, his delicate sense of beauty 
 which seems to riot and revel among the scenes of nature ; 
 and then remember his coarse profaneness, which appears 
 to delight in gathering up and recording the wildest and 
 most offensive forms of vulgar blasphemy, I can think of 
 him only as the " Archangel ruined " ; 
 
 " his form has lost 
 All its original brightness." 
 
100 ON "OLD MORTALITY.'* 
 
 This most offensive vice occurs less frequently in " Old 
 Mortality," than in " Guy Mannering." But in the " Pirate " 
 it is shocking beyond expression. The author almost de- 
 serves the fate of the Pirate he describes. But laying out 
 of the question, at present, these vices, which are common 
 to all the tales of this richly-gifted, but unhallowed spirit ; 
 and regarding his works, merely as objects of literary curi- 
 osity, I can claim for " Old Mortality " preeminence, not 
 only over " Guy Mannering," but almost over all the novels 
 with which I am acquainted. The action, the narrative, 
 the grouping and contrast of characters, are not inferior, 
 to say the least, to those in " Guy Mannering " ? while in 
 the conception of Burley, the author has approached the 
 sublimity of Milton, and in tracing out the features of his 
 character, has attained the life, and animation, and natural 
 grace of Shakspeare. I do not know the book, which is 
 the object of such engrossing and eager attention. " The 
 charm which cannot pass away is there." Read it as often 
 as you will, its lustre is undiminished. It produces the 
 mental excitement which is always occasioned by the view 
 of great powers, called into intense action ; and it kindles 
 to a loftier temper, whatever zeal rnay be found for civil 
 and religious liberty. 
 
DEFENCE OF THE CHARACTER OF 
 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 " WAS THE ACCESSION OF OLIVER CROMWELL TO THE 
 SOVEREIGN POWER IN ENGLAND JUSTIFIABLE ? " 
 
 IT has been the fortune of Oliver Cromwell to be 
 the subject alike of the highest eulogies, and of the most 
 bitter execrations. He is designated by the Anabaptists in 
 their address to Prince Charles while in Flanders, as " that 
 grand impostor, that loathsome hypocrite, that detestable 
 traitor, that prodigy of nature, that opprobrium of mankind, 
 that landscape of iniquity, that sink of sin, and that compen- 
 dium of baseness, who now calls himself our Protector." 
 And even the grave and temperate Clarendon remarks, that 
 " no man with more wickedness ever attempted any thing, or 
 brought to pass what he desired, more wickedly, more in 
 the face and contempt of religion and moral honesty ; yet, " 
 he adds, " wickedness as great as his, could never have ac- 
 complished those designs, without the assistance of a great 
 spirit, an admirable circumspection and sagacity, and a most 
 magnanimous resolution." 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 On the other hand, hear his character by Dryden : 
 
 " His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone ; 
 For he was great, ere fortune made him so, 
 And wars, like mists that rise against the sun, 
 Made him but greater seem, not greater grow. 
 Heaven in his portrait showed a workman's hand, 
 And drew it perfect, yet without a shade." 
 
 And Milton, in a higher strain of poetry : 
 
 Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud 
 Not of war only, but detractions rude, 
 Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, 
 To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed ; 
 
 And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud 
 Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued ; 
 While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued, 
 And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud, 
 
 And Worcester's laureate wreath." 
 
 Nor was this only the language of poetry. In one of the 
 most eloquent of his prose compositions, the Second Defence 
 of the People of England, Milton addresses this animated 
 apostrophe to the Protector. " Proceed then, O Cromwell ! 
 and exhibit under every circumstance the same loftiness of 
 mind ; for it becomes you, and is consistent with your great- 
 ness. The redeemer, as you are, of your country ; the 
 author, the guardian, the preserver of her liberty, you can 
 assume no additional character more important, or more 
 august ; since not only the actions of our kings, but the fa- 
 bled exploits of our heroes, are overcome by your achieve- 
 ments. Reverence then yourself ! and suffer not that lib- 
 erty, for the attainment of which you have encountered so 
 many perils, and have endured so many hardships, to sus- 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 tain any violation from your own hands, or any from those 
 of others." 
 
 Notwithstanding these contradictory opinions, which, 
 however, concur in admitting Cromwell to have been the 
 greatest man of his age, I hope to convince you that he 
 was a wise and virtuous man, a sincere Christian, and a true 
 patriot ; and that his assumption of the sovereign power was 
 not merely justifiable, was but strictly conformable to his duty. 
 I must beg you however to go back with me to the times in 
 which he lived ; and to test his conduct by the opinions 
 which then prevailed. It would be the highest injustice, to 
 bring our present opinions of civil government, as the stand- 
 ard of political morality. If the accumulated light of two 
 centuries were cast back upon the conduct and opinions of 
 any statesman in Europe, they would wither under its bright- 
 ness, as his ancient portrait would be consumed by the 
 rays of the sun, if poured upon it through the medium of 
 a burning-glass. Let Cromwell be tried by the opinions 
 of his contemporaries, or the conduct of those who preced- 
 ed and followed him, and his character will remind you of 
 one of those green spots we sometimes see in the present 
 month on the sunny side of a hill, if not verdant and bloom- 
 ing, at least giving the hope of spring amidst the coldness, 
 barrenness, and desolation of winter, and filling the heart for 
 a moment with vernal delight. 
 
 Cromwell was forty-one years old, when he first became 
 known to the public as a member of the Long Parliament. 
 Whatever were the occupations of his early years, it is cer- 
 tain they were such as qualified him for the career he after- 
 
104 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 wards pursued ; for no man ever rose more rapidly in life, 
 or sustained his elevation with a more firm and consistent 
 dignity. Within one year after he entered Parliament, as an 
 obscure Puritan of embarrassed fortune and unpretending 
 manners, he had acquired almost unlimited influence, and 
 was the chosen confident of those brave spirits, who were 
 beginning to plan the deliverance of their country. As soon 
 as it was resolved to raise forces for the public defence, 
 Cromwell went down to his constituents in Cambridge, and 
 raised a small company of horse, of which he received the 
 command. He was then forty-two years old, and this was 
 the first military effort of the man who proved himself the 
 greatest soldier of the age, of the man who, in twenty years 
 of strenuous war, never lost a battle. So great, indeed, were 
 his military services, that in less than three months, the Par- 
 liament put under his control a regiment of one thousand 
 horse ; and in two months from that time, he was Lieuten- 
 ant General of the Cavalry. The decisive battle of Marston 
 Moor, which turned the fortune of the war, and in effect 
 established the Commonwealth, was won by him within five 
 months from his first joining the army. The history of Eu- 
 rope will hardly present another example of so rapid a de- 
 velopement of military talents. In the course of the same 
 year, he was placed at the head of the military forces of 
 the Parliament, Sir Thomas Fairfax having only the nomi- 
 nal command. 
 
 If it be asked, by what means he attained this surprising 
 elevation, I answer at once ; By personal merit ; not only 
 by the value of his public services, but by the confidence in- 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 1Q5 
 
 spired by his private character. No officer in the army 
 faced danger with so much intrepidity, or more eagerly 
 sought occasion to signalize his personal valor. Yet though 
 he was always found in the hottest of the battle, he was uni- 
 formly calm, collected, and self-possessed. His soldiers, who 
 were sometimes animated by his example to enterprises 
 that bordered on rashness, learned at the same time to place 
 implicit confidence in his judgment. His was the presid- 
 ing mind, whose wisdom and energy were every where felt ; 
 and it is not wonderful that his troops, who found themselves 
 invincible under his command, should have regarded him as 
 a second Phinehas, raised up by the special providence of 
 God for the overthrow of idolatry and tyranny. 
 
 In analyzing a character, like that of Cromwell, we can 
 generally seize upon a few prominent principles, which have 
 evidently predominated through the whole course of life. 
 One of the most remarkable characteristics of Cromwell, 
 was his directness of purpose. On great emergencies, an 
 ordinary mind dares not look to the final issue of its ac- 
 tions ; it depends upon contingencies, and is carried forward 
 by the force of circumstances ; it is glad to shelter itself 
 under precedents, and fears to neglect any of the prescrib- 
 ed forms of proceeding. It reaches its purpose, as some 
 birds do their nests, by making circles round it. Or, as a 
 fortified town used to be taken two centuries ago ; a trumpet 
 must be sent to the gate to demand a surrender ; then lines 
 of circumvallation must be drawn round the walls ; a trench 
 must be dug, and breastworks thrown up ; and to use the 
 significant phrase that was then current, the army must 
 
 14 
 
106 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 sit down before the town. It was a breach of military 
 etiquette, to attack the citadel, till all the outworks had been 
 carried in form. But Cromwell, like the warriors of mod- 
 ern times, went directly to his object, and thus not only at- 
 tained his purpose more readily, but secured a reputation 
 for honest and fearless candor. While the Parliament 
 forces were perplexing their heads with the subtile distinc- 
 tion of fighting by the king's authority against his person, 
 and of obeying His Majesty's command, as expressed by both 
 houses of Parliament, he told his troops plainly, that they 
 were carrying on war against Charles Stuart, king of Eng- 
 land, and that for his part, if he met him in battle, he should 
 fire a pistol in his face, as readily as in that of any other 
 man. With this simplicity and directness of purpose, he 
 possessed a talent which is loo often united with characters 
 of an opposite description ; I mean a profound knowledge 
 of mankind, and a wonderful sagacity in detecting the true 
 motives of conduct. All writers ascribe to him a penetrat- 
 ing judgment, and a discernment of character that seemed 
 almost intuitive. " If there was a man in England," says 
 Neal, " who excelled in any faculty or science, he was sure 
 to find him out, and reward him according to his merits." 
 
 There is another part of his character, upon which a 
 greater diversity of opinion prevails, but which, I apprehend, 
 may be equally well settled by credible testimony, and 
 that is his religion. When I consider the strictness of his 
 private morals, the unblemished purity of his life, the reg- 
 ularity and fervor of his public and private devotions, his 
 regard to the Sabbath, the strict moral discipline he main- 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 1Q7 
 
 tained among his followers, both in the army and at court, 
 his zeal for the support of public worship, and his patronage 
 of good men of every denomination, I cannot suffer myself 
 to doubt for a moment, that these good fruits sprung from a 
 principle of true piety. That Cromwell was an enthusiast, 
 I readily grant, and perhaps sometimes a fanatic. But he 
 lived in an age of fanaticism. At a period when a large 
 party existed among professed Christians who were daily 
 expecting the personal appearance of the Saviour on earth, 
 to assume the vacant sceptre of the Stuarts, and set up a 
 fifth monarchy, which should endure for a thousand years, it 
 is not incredible that even a strong mind, like Cromwell's, 
 should be infected by the atmosphere in which he breathed. 
 His very principles of piety might become the means of 
 self-deception. Accustomed to refer all events to God, he 
 might very easily be led to consider his unparalleled success, 
 not only as a proof of the special providence of God, but of 
 his peculiar favor. And this appears to have been the fact. 
 " An appeal to the sword," says one of his historians, " was 
 an appeal to God ; and as victory inclined, God owned or 
 discountenanced the cause." 
 
 I have dwelt thus particularly upon the personal character 
 of Cromwell, because upon that, compared with the state of 
 public affairs when he came forward in life, I rest much of 
 his defence. 
 
 To the descendants of the Puritans, I need say little of 
 the struggle between Charles the First and his people. The 
 transactions of that eventful period should be as familiar to 
 us as " household words." We owe every thing of civil 
 
108 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 and religious liberty to the successful termination of that con- 
 test ; and that contest commenced in the reign of Elizabeth, 
 when the blood of the Puritans began to be poured out 
 like water. They perished by hundreds, not indeed on 
 the scaffold or at the stake, as in the reign of her cruel sis- 
 ter ; but they starved or rotted in dungeons, or perished 
 with their children by the way-side and hedges. Mary per- 
 secuted the Church of England, and therefore she is brand- 
 ed by English historians as bloody Mary ; but Elizabeth 
 cherished the Church of England, and persecuted only the 
 defenceless Puritans and therefore she is described even 
 by a grave judge, as "the mirror of justice, and the life of 
 law " ; and above all, as " the queen of all roseate beauty." 
 From the accession of Elizabeth to the death of Charles 
 the First, the Puritans were the sole depositaries of the 
 principles of civil and religious liberty. In solitudes, in im- 
 prisonment) in exile, they nourished the plants of freedom 
 with their tears, and enriched them at last with their blood. 
 At length the moment arrived, in which it became their 
 duty, for they had the power, to shake off the yoke of civil 
 and ecclesiastical tyranny. 
 
 That they made the effort, and succeeded, should be a 
 matter of devout thankfulness to every one of us ; for if 
 arbitrary power and the dominion of the Pope had been es- 
 tablished in England, the arm of the oppressor would have 
 reached our fathers even in this distant land. Our moun- 
 tains and forests would have been no refuge from the Star- 
 chamber and Inquisition ; and if New England had been 
 planted at all, it would have been peopled by a race of ser- 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 10 (j 
 
 vile bigots, crouching under the lash of a foreign master, 
 and turning pale at the frown of a foreign priest. 
 
 After the death of Charles the First, in which Cromwell 
 had no greater share than the other members of the court 
 which sat in judgment on him, the sovereign authority 
 was exercised by the Parliament, which consisted in fact of 
 less than two thirds of the House of Commons only, and by 
 an executive council of thirty-eight persons. This Parlia- 
 ment, which first voted the continuance of its own power, 
 and then declared every person incapable of office or trust 
 who did not engage to support it, sustained itself in its usur- 
 pation nearly four years. But they were four years of dis- 
 sension, strife, and bloodshed. The Presbyterians, who con- 
 stituted a majority of Parliament, were secretly royalists, and 
 would gladly have reestablished the monarchy, if presbyte- 
 rianism had been made the established church. This fact 
 will explain a remark, which was made, at that time, on 
 their new coinage, and which deserves to be repeated. 
 The Parliament ordered the coin of the kingdom to be 
 stamped anew, with the words " The Commonwealth of 
 England " on one side, and the motto " God is with us " 
 on the other ; which gave occasion to one of the preachers 
 to remark, that God and the Commonwealth were not on 
 the same side. 
 
 Cromwell was at this time subduing Ireland, where the 
 terror of his name (in the language of Neal ) carried victo- 
 ry on its wings. It is worthy of remark, that at this time, at 
 the head of a victorious army, which was exasperated even 
 to madness against the Catholics, Cromwell sent a petition 
 
110 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 to Parliament, recommending the repeal of all penal laws 
 in matters of religion, and a free toleration of every sect. 
 How much this was in advance of his age, appears from an 
 anecdote related in the life of Richard Baxter. When that 
 great and good man, after the restoration of Charles the 
 Second, was pleading with the king for the toleration of the 
 Presbyterians, Lord Clarendon remarked, that the king had 
 received a similar petition from the Baptists, and proposed a 
 general declaration which should include several sects ; 
 upon which Baxter replied with some warmth, " that His 
 Majesty should distinguish the tolerable parties from the in- 
 tolerable ; that for the former he craved lenity and favor ; 
 but that nobody could desire the toleration of Catholics and 
 Unitarians, who were altogether intolerable." 
 
 " When Cromwell, in 1653, forcibly dissolved the Parlia- 
 ment, it had entirely lost the confidence of the nation, and was 
 regarded every where with contempt and derision. It pro- 
 bably could not have maintained its authority six months 
 longer. The nation was again on the eve of anarchy and 
 civil war. The Royalists, though subdued and silenced, 
 were not disheartened. They were scattered every where 
 through the kingdom ; and kept up a constant correspond- 
 ence with Prince Charles, and with each other. The 
 Presbyterians were, in principle, for the King and Covenant, 
 and hated the Independents, both as Republicans and here- 
 tics. The Republican party itself was composed of the 
 most discordant materials. The Deists, under Algernon 
 Sidney and Harrington, were desirous of establishing a 
 commonwealth on the classical models of Greece and Rome. 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. j j j 
 
 The Anabaptists, and Fifth Monarchy men, expecting the 
 immediate appearance of the Saviour on earth, regarded all 
 human institutions in church and state as vain and nugato- 
 ry ; while the Independents, with more rational views of 
 civil and religious liberty, had no fixed plan of action, and 
 but little political power. These three classes agreed in 
 nothing, but in their abhorrence of tyranny and ecclesiasti- 
 cal usurpation. Had Cromwell permitted a new Parlia- 
 ment to be called, it would have contained a majority 
 of Presbyterians and Cavaliers, and the civil war would 
 have been at once renewed. Constituted as the English 
 Parliament then was, it could not have been a fair repre- 
 sentative of the wishes of the people ; and the plan of sub- 
 mitting a constitution of government to the decision of the peo- 
 ple themselves, was the invention of later and happier times. 
 What then was to be done ? The vessel was on a stormy 
 ocean, driven about, the sport of the winds and waves, no 
 subordination among the crew, no skilful hand at the helm. 
 The gale was even now rending her canvass, and the bil- 
 lows making breaches over her side, when a skilful mariner 
 sprung upon deck ; his voice restored order, his eye inspir- 
 ed hope and confidence, his hand seized the helm. The 
 vessel rode out the gale ; and was soon pursuing a prosper- 
 ous voyage. Was the conduct of this mariner justifiable ? 
 or must he be hung for mutiny ? 
 
 I will not compare the administration of Cromwell with 
 that of his immediate predecessor ; for it may be said per- 
 haps (though not with justice), that much of its success arose 
 from the gradual progress of the nation, from the de- 
 
112 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 velopement of its resources, and the greater diffusion of light 
 and knowledge j yet there are points of contrast too striking 
 to be omitted. In the reign of Charles the First, England 
 held but a secondary rank among the nations of Europe ; 
 Cromwell made her at once the head of the civilized 
 world. In the first treaty which he signed with France, he 
 claimed precedence of Louis the Fourteenth, and what is 
 more extraordinary, that proud monarch was obliged to 
 yield it. In his domestic administration, Cromwell had the 
 same advantage of his predecessor. While Charles the 
 First was the passive instrument of those whom accident or 
 caprice had placed around him, of the gay and profligate 
 Buckingham, the choleric Laud, and the subtile Cottington ; 
 Cromwell sought out and attached to his service the master- 
 spirits of the age. Milton and Marvell and Thurloe were 
 his secretaries ; Sir Mathew Hale, his chief justice ; May- 
 nard, his counsellor ; Blake, his admiral ; Waller and Prynne, 
 his leaders in the House of Commons; Selden, Usher, 
 and Walton, his theological advisers and friends. 
 
 Soon after the death of Cromwell, England thus prosper- 
 ous and happy at home, illustrated by learning and the arts, 
 and equally feared and respected abroad, was delivered in- 
 to the hands of Charles the Second. " Negligent of the in- 
 terests of the nation, careless of its glory, averse to its reli- 
 gion, jealous of its liberty, lavish of its treasure, sparing only 
 of its blood," he lost, one by one, all the advantages which 
 the wisdom and energy of Cromwell had acquired. When 
 he had squandered the treasures and alienated the affec- 
 tions of his people, he became a mean pensioner upon the 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. H3 
 
 bounty of France ; and received a quarterly stipend from 
 Louis the Fourteenth, to enable him to pursue his profligate 
 pleasures. 
 
 " When the legal constitution was restored," says Bishop 
 Kennet, himself a royalist, " there returned with it a torrent 
 of debauchery and wickedness. The times which followed 
 the restoration were the reverse of those that preceded it ; 
 for the laws which had been enacted against vice, for the last 
 twenty years, being declared null, and the magistrates chang- 
 ed, men set no bounds to their licentiousnes. A proclama- 
 tion was indeed published against those loose and riotous Cav- 
 aliers, whose loyalty consisted in drinking healths, and rail- 
 ing at those who would not revel with them ; but in reality 
 the king was at the head of these disorders, being devoted 
 to his pleasures, and having given himself up to an avowed 
 course of lewdness. There were two play-houses erected in 
 the neighbourhood of the court ; the most lewd and inde- 
 cent plays were brought on the stage ; and the more inde- 
 cent, the better was the king pleased, who graced every 
 new play with his royal presence. From court the conta- 
 gion spread like wild-fire among the people ; so that men 
 threw off the very profession of virtue and piety." But 
 enough of this disgusting picture ; the profligacy of those 
 times is but too well known. 
 
 I rest then the justification of Oliver Cromwell, first, upon 
 the anarchy which prevailed in England, when he first came 
 forward in public life ; secondly, upon the necessity of es- 
 tablishing a more efficient and liberal government ; thirdly, 
 upon his peculiar talents for the art of government, of which 
 
 15 
 
114 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 he could not have been unconscious ; fourthly, upon the im- 
 possibility of procuring a formal expression of the will of 
 the people; and lastly, upon the virtue and happiness of 
 the people under his administration, and the disorders which 
 immediately ensued upon the restoration of the Stuarts. 
 
 As it was not practicable to choose a free Parliament, nor 
 fit to let the old one perpetuate themselves, Cromwell had 
 no other choice, than either to abandon the state, take the 
 administration upon himself, or put it into the hands of 
 some other person, who had no better title. That he judg- 
 ed wisely, and for the benefit of his country, in assuming it 
 himself, no reader of history can doubt ; and after having 
 once interfered, there was no retreat for him. To use the 
 strong expression of a writer of our own times, " having 
 grasped the wolf of empire by the ears, he must hold him 
 fast ; to let him go, was to be instantly devoured himself." 
 
 I cannot conclude, without presenting to your view two por- 
 traits, both drawn by disinterested contemporaries. " Crom- 
 well's court," says Echard, " was regulated according to 
 a most strict discipline, where every vice was banished, or 
 severely punished. He maintained a constant appearance 
 of piety, and was regular in his private and public devotions. 
 He retired constantly every day to read the Scriptures 
 and prayer, and some, who watched him narrowly, have 
 reported, that after he had read and meditated a chap- 
 ter, he prostrated himself with his face on the ground, and 
 with tears poured out his soul to God, for a quarter of an 
 hour. He was a strict observer of the Sabbath, and an en- 
 courager of goodness and austerity of life." 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 The other is by the blameless Evelyn, who lived in the 
 court of Charles the Second, like Abdiel among the fallen 
 angels ; 
 
 faithful found 
 
 Among the faithless, faithful only he ; 
 Among innumerable false, unmoved, 
 Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified, 
 His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal." 
 
 " I can never forget," says he, in his Diary, on the day of 
 the accession of James the Second, " the inexpressible luxu- 
 ry and profaneness, gaming and all dissoluteness, and, as it 
 were, total forgetfulness of God (it being Sunday evening), 
 which, this day se'nnight I was witness of ; the king sitting and 
 toying with his concubines, Portsmouth, Cleaveland, and 
 Mazarine, &tc. ; a French boy singing love songs in that 
 glorious gallery ; whilst about twenty of the great courtiers 
 and other dissolute persons were at Basset round a large 
 table a bank of at least 2,000 in gold before them upon 
 which, two gentlemen, who were with me, made reflections 
 with astonishment. Six days after was all in the dust ! " 
 
 " Thrones fall and dynasties are changed : 
 Empires decay and sink 
 Beneath their own unwieldy weight : 
 Dominion passeth like a cloud away. 
 The imperishable mind 
 Survives all meaner things ! " 
 
 Who, now, would not have been Oliver Cromwell, rather 
 than Charles the Second. 
 
PAPERS 
 
 ON 
 
 SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH POLITICAL ECONOMY, 
 POLITICAL SCIENCE, AND LEGISLATION. 
 
 FIRST PUBLISHED IN " THE PORTSMOUTH JOURNAL." 
 
BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 IN the science of Political Economy, there are no errors 
 so inveterate as those relating to foreign commerce. It is 
 but a few years since it was the fashion to regard the books 
 of the custom-house as the only standard by which the 
 prosperity of the nation could be measured. If the imports 
 exceeded the exports, it was said that the balance of trade 
 was against us ; that we were running in debt to foreign 
 nations, and that poverty and ruin were overtaking us. As 
 the balance of trade, in this sense, has always been against 
 the United States, it would seem to be difficult to reconcile 
 our acknowledged prosperity with the correctness of the 
 principle. But though better opinions begin to prevail, they 
 are not universally received. We still hear predictions of 
 ruin, because our imports are greater than our exports. It 
 may be worth while to examine the reasons for this appre- 
 hension. 
 
 In the case of an individual, nothing can be plainer than 
 that his imports should exceed his exports. How can a 
 
120 BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 man become rich, but by receiving more than he parts with ? 
 It is the same with a nation. If the United States, by ex- 
 porting sixty millions annually can import sixty-four millions, 
 it it apparent that nearly the whole difference has been 
 profit. 
 
 The error has arisen from estimating the value both of 
 imports and exports at our own custom-house, instead of 
 estimating their value in the foreign country where the ex- 
 change is actually made. An inquirer learns at the custom- 
 house that sixty-four millions have been received, and that 
 only sixty millions have been sent to pay for it ; and he 
 naturally asks how the difference is to be supplied. If he 
 is not acquainted with the course of trade, he naturally 
 supposes that a debt of four millions has been incurred ; 
 and he shudders at the thought of having all the gold and 
 silver drawn from the United States to pay it. 
 
 Yet a slight attention to the course of domestic trade 
 would show him that his apprehensions were groundless. 
 In some of our distant settlements, corn is fifty cents a bush- 
 el, and salt is one hundred. If a farmer, from one of these 
 settlements, were to come to market with thirty bushels of 
 corn, he might sell it for sufficient to purchase thirty-seven 
 bushels of salt. If the value of these articles is to be esti- 
 mated at his own door, he has exported fifteen dollars, and 
 imported thirty-seven dollars. But unless the expenses of 
 his journey have exceeded twenty-two dollars, he has made 
 a profit by the exchange. Now the custom-house returns 
 give just as correct a view of the trade of the nation, as an 
 account kept at a farmer's door of his out-goings and in- 
 
BALANCE OF TRADE. 121 
 
 comings would give of the state of his business. These 
 returns are valuable and necessary but for a very different 
 purpose. 
 
 The great fallacy of arguments drawn from the custom- 
 house returns, will be apparent from considering only one 
 branch of the trade of this town, namely, the freighting 
 business. In the course of the last year, we have had 
 twenty-seven ships and twelve brigs employed in this trade ; 
 several of which have made two voyages. It will therefore 
 be perfectly within the truth, to make a calculation upon 
 forty voyages in the year. These vessels generally took 
 with them hay and lumber sufficient to pay their port charges 
 in the Southern States, say one thousand dollars each, or 
 forty thousand dollars for the year. They receive, upon an 
 average, one thousand pounds sterling each, in Europe, or 
 one hundred and seventy-seven thousand six hundred dol- 
 lars. Deducting from this sum, their port charges in 
 Europe, there are brought home in salt and iron, or left 
 behind to be brought home by others, one hundred and fifty 
 thousand dollars. The whole of this sum appears on the 
 books of the custom-house as imports, without one cent of ex- 
 ports to balance it. But, as from this sum the merchant 
 keeps his ship in repair, pays his seamen, and purchases the 
 outfits of the voyage, it consists of interest and reimburse- 
 ment of capital, wages of labor, and profit ; in the same 
 manner as the price, which the manufacturer receives for 
 a piece of broadcloth, consists of interest and reimbursement 
 of capital, wages of labor, and profit. 
 
 16 
 
122 BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 A merchant, sending his ship to sea, must charge against 
 his voyage not only the first cost of his cargo, but all the 
 outfits, provisions, and wages advanced to the seamen ; his 
 own or agent's services, and the premium of insurance. On 
 the return of the vessel, he must again charge the adventure 
 with the seamen's wages, and all the expenses attending the 
 landing and sale of the goods. In order to know, then, 
 whether the balance of trade is for or against the country, 
 the imports of the merchant must be placed against all these 
 charges, and if it exceed the aggregate amount, we may 
 conclude that his business can be continued with profit to 
 himself and benefit to the country. The exports of this 
 part of the country are bulky and of small value y in many 
 cases not constituting one half the consideration that pro- 
 duces the imports ; yet this is all that appears on the books 
 of the custom-house. 
 
 Another error, still more inveterate, is the opinion that the 
 exportation of specie is injurious to the country. Almost 
 the whole of our specie currency is Spanish coin. We 
 received it in foreign ports in exchange for the products of 
 our labor. It was received and brought home, because it 
 was more advantageous at the time to receive it, than to 
 barter our merchandise for that of the foreign country. We 
 export it for the same reason ; because it is more advanta- 
 geous at the time, to make our purchases with it, than to 
 send merchandise to be bartered. Apply the principle 
 once more to an individual. He becomes richer or poorer, 
 by the terms of the contracts he makes ; not by the mere 
 fact of bartering, or of buying and selling for money. If 
 
BALANCE OF TRADE. 133 
 
 he sells to A for money, and employs that money to pur- 
 chase of B, he is not necessarily poorer than if he exchang- 
 ed his merchandise, at once, with B. If it would be profit- 
 able to the United States to export the products of agricul- 
 tural industry, grain, provisions, and lumber, to the East 
 Indies and China, and then to exchange them for sugars 
 and teas, it does not necessarily follow that the trade is ruin- 
 ous, because the merchandise is sent to the West Indies, 
 there exchanged for dollars, and the dollars are afterwards 
 sent to China. The only difference is the expense of the 
 intermediate voyage, which may or may not be repaid by 
 the profit of the first adventure, or by that of the final ship- 
 ment. 
 
 Principles are best tried by familiar examples. A hatter, 
 who pays his shoemaker with money, is an exporter of 
 specie. He must previously have imported it by the sale of 
 hats. Whether he gains or loses by the mode of payment, 
 depends upon the fact of his getting better shoes or not, by 
 paying in money instead of paying in hats. If he gains by 
 purchasing with money, he will generally be anxious to sell 
 for money, that he may employ it in his purchases. That 
 is, he will import specie, that he may afterwards export it. 
 The case is precisely the same with a nation. If money is 
 not exported, it is perfectly certain it will not be imported. 
 In this, as in every thing else, it is the demand that produces 
 the supply. 
 
 Again ; the quantity of money in a country is no certain 
 mark of its prosperity. We do not estimate the wealth of 
 an individual by the number of silver dollars actually in his 
 
124 BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 pocket, but by the command he possesses over the products 
 of labor. In like manner the wealth of a nation does not 
 consist in its circulating medium, but in that which the cir- 
 culating medium represents the products of labor. If all 
 the precious metals in England were at once destroyed, she 
 would still be a wealthy nation ; for she would still possess 
 her fertile soil, her roads and canals and bridges, her build- 
 ings and manufactories, her ships and merchandise. So far 
 from the quantity of money being the standard of wealth, it 
 is found that money is always scarce in enterprising and 
 thriving communities when it can be profitably employed ; 
 and is always plenty, when from any cause, it will not pay 
 the usual rate of interest. 
 
 We should feel almost ashamed of stating anew and de- 
 fending such plain principles, if every week did not bring us 
 papers, in which they are misunderstood or perverted. 
 
 Jan. 18, 1823. 
 
 No. II. 
 
 THE remarks which we made in the Journal a few weeks 
 ago, on the balance of trade, have had the fortune to attract 
 some attention in different parts of the Union. In general, 
 they appear to have produced conviction ; though we claim 
 for them no other merit than that of stating plain principles 
 in plain language. As the subject is important, and as sev- 
 eral answers to our arguments have been attempted, we 
 shall be pardoned for offering a few additional remarks. 
 
BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 What is called the balance of trade is the difference be- 
 tween the value of the imports and exports of a country. We 
 attempted to show, that when the balance of trade is said to 
 be against the country, that is, when she imports more than 
 she exports, so far from its being a sign of decay and ruin, 
 it is rather a mark of prosperity. When a fisherman carries 
 out with him fifty hogsheads of salt, worth two hundred dol- 
 lars, and brings home four hundred and fifty quintals of fish, 
 worth eleven hundred dollars, he would smile to hear us 
 say that he was ruining either himself or his country. He 
 would reply, that he had made a profitable voyage ; his 
 imports exceeded his exports. When a farmer goes to 
 market with a load of pork, which cost him fifty dollars to 
 raise, and returns with a load of salt and iron worth seventy- 
 five dollars, which he has purchased with the proceeds, 
 besides paying his expenses, he would wonder a little at that 
 political arithmetic, which would teach him that he had 
 made a losing journey. 
 
 The principal difficulty attending this subject has arisen 
 from the high rate of exchange. It has been said, that 
 when merchants have to give, for many successive months, 
 ten or twelve per cent, advance for bills of exchange, it is 
 conclusive evidence that the country is getting in debt ; that 
 there are not goods enough sent to Europe to pay for those 
 which we bring home, and of course that a high rate of in- 
 terest is paid for money there. We hope to show, by a 
 plain example, that the whole of this reasoning is fallacious. 
 
 Exchange, in its technical sense, is the sum given in one 
 country for the transfer of a debt due in another. When 
 
126 BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 the price given is the same sum as that which is to be re- 
 ceived, exchange is said to be at par ; when it is more than 
 that which is to be received, exchange is in advance, or at 
 a premium. Now, as the design of the purchaser of ex- 
 change is to employ the money in the foreign country, 
 where the debt is due, it is obvious that he will never give 
 more advance for exchange, than the sum it would cost him 
 to transport specie to the same place. That is, exchange 
 can never be higher than the freight, insurance, and com- 
 mission charged upon the transportation of mony. For 
 why should A give B ten per cent, for one hundred dollars, 
 payable in England, when he can send one hundred silver 
 dollars to England for about one and a half per cent. 
 
 But it may be said that exchange is at present actually at 
 ten per cent, advance ; and yet there are dollars in the 
 country ! The apparent difficulty may be removed by a 
 single example. 
 
 A owes a debt in England of four hundred and eighty- 
 two dollars, which he wishes to pay. He purchases of B a 
 bill of exchange for one hundred pounds sterling, for which 
 he give a premium of ten per cent. When he remits it, his 
 account stands thus : 
 
 100 sterling, at par, or $4,44 $444 44 
 
 10 per cent, advance 44 44 
 
 $488 88 
 
 He therefore has paid here four hundred and eighty-eight 
 dollars and eighty-eight cents for one hundred pounds ster- 
 ling in London. Now what is the value of these one hun- 
 
BALANCE OF TRADE. 127 
 
 dred pounds in London ? How much of his debt will be 
 paid by it ? 
 
 By the last advices dollars were worth, in England, 4s. 
 Id. lq. per oz. or 4s. Id. 3q. apiece. A therefore receives, 
 in England, four hundred and eighty-two dollars and forty- 
 one cents, in the place of four hundred and eighty-eight dol- 
 lars and eighty-eight cents paid here. He has really given 
 then only six dollars and forty-seven cents, or one per cent, 
 and forty-one hundredths for exchange, instead often per cent. 
 
 Now what would have been the result, if he had shipped 
 specie, instead of buying a bill of exchange ? He owes 
 four hundred and eighty-two dollars in England ; he would 
 therefore ship that sum : 
 
 $482 00 
 Premium given here for Spanish dollars, 1 
 
 per cent 4 82 
 
 Freight, half per cent 2 41 
 
 Insurance, one per cent 4 82 
 
 $494 05 
 
 It would have cost him, then, twelve dollars and five cents, 
 or more than two and a half per cent, to ship specie. 
 Even if we deduct the premium given for dollars, there 
 will remain seven dollars and twenty-three cents, or one and 
 a half per cent., as the cost of remittance ; or nine cents in 
 the hundred dollars more than the price of exchange. Bills 
 of exchange, therefore, are, at this moment, sold for less 
 than their true value ! And if they are any criterion of the 
 state of the trade, England is in debt to the United States, 
 instead of the United States being in debt to England. 
 
128 BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 This result will doubtless surprise those, who consider the 
 rate of exchange as a sure standard by which to ascertain 
 the balance of trade. But we have other facts equally con- 
 clusive. For many years past, exchange has been from 
 fifteen to twenty per cent, in favor of England and Spain, 
 and from eight to twelve per cent, in favor of the United 
 States, against the island of Cuba. Is that island, with all 
 its great and valuable exports, on the verge of ruin ? Is she 
 getting in debt from ten to twenty per cent, a year to Spain, 
 to England, to the United States ? We believe there will 
 scarcely be found an advocate for the old doctrine of the 
 balance of trade, that will venture to assert it. 
 
 The truth is, the rate of exchange with any particular 
 country depends more upon the actual valuation of money, 
 than upon any supposed balance of trade. In the United 
 States, dollars have, by law, a fixed value. In England, 
 the price of them fluctuates like that of any other article of 
 commerce. If instead of being worth in England, as they 
 now are, only 4s. 6d. Sq. each, they should rise, as in 
 1816, to 45. Id., it is evident that four hundred and forty- 
 four dollars here would again purchase one hundred pounds 
 sterling in England. But would such a rise in the value of 
 dollars alter the balance of trade ? Would it make our 
 imports less or exports greater ? Would it be, in itself, any 
 evidence that this country was more or less indebted to 
 England ? 
 
 In Cuba, doubloons pass for seventeen dollars ; while 
 here they are worth but fifteen. Spanish dollars are there- 
 fore always worth in Cuba from six to eight per cent, ad- 
 
BALANCE OF TRADE. 139 
 
 vance, when payment is made in doubloons. This single 
 fact shows the whole operation of the principle. Bills on 
 the United States are always above par, because dollars can 
 be obtained for them ; and because dollars, when obtained, 
 can be sold above par for doubloons. The whole differ- 
 ence in the rate of exchange, therefore, arises from the 
 fact, that the nominal price of commodities is regulated there 
 by doubloons, and here by dollars. As soon as doubloons 
 are directly exchanged for dollars, an advance is put upon 
 dollars, and the difference vanishes. In like manner, the 
 whole difference in the rate of exchange between this coun- 
 try and England arises from the difference of the legal 
 standard of money. The price of commodities here is fixed 
 by dollars; in England, by pounds sterling representing 
 guineas. When dollars are exchanged for dollars, as we 
 have already shown, the difference is in our favor. 
 
 We have prepared an answer to the remarks on our 
 former argument made in the New York Statesman and the 
 Providence Journal ; but as we have already exceeded our 
 limits, we must defer its publication to some future occasion. 
 
 Feb. 22, 1823. 
 
 No. III. 
 
 WE find the following letter in the last New York States- 
 man. It is a good omen for an opponent to begin to lose 
 his temper. 
 
 * TO THE GREAT ' ORACLE ' AT PORTSMOUTH. 
 "SIR, 
 
 "You have already told the people with becoming dignity, 
 what every body admits, that if a man, who has exported one bar- 
 17 
 
130 BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 rel of flour which has cost eight and will sell for ten dollars, has 
 received any commodity in return for that flour of the value of 
 fifty dollars, his profit is forty-two dollars, and that he and the 
 country are becoming rich. 
 
 " Be so good as to throw some light on the following question. 
 If a man export a barrel of flour, for which he has paid eight and 
 which will yield ten dollars, and also export thirty-eight dollars in 
 silver, for which commodities he receives in return fifty dollars 
 worth of foreign fabrics, pray, my dear Oracle, what are the profits 
 of his adventure to himself and to the country ? 
 
 AN OBSERVER. 
 
 " The above query is induced by the perpetual repetition that the 
 excess of importation is so much clear gain, whereas, it is dearly 
 paid for by our precious metals, stocks, public security, &c." 
 
 If we understand the question above proposed, it is a 
 very simple one, and admits of a ready answer. The ex- 
 porter has parted with forty-six dollars, and has received fif- 
 ty. His gross profit therefore is four dollars. The amount 
 of his neat profit depends upon circumstances not stated in 
 the question. If we suppose the voyage to be made to 
 England, the charges will be about three per cent, upon 
 the dollars, for freight and insurance, equal to $1 14 
 
 and upon the flour, for freight and insurance, 1 02 
 
 $2 16 
 
 leaving one dollar and eighty-four cents as neat profit to the 
 shipper. If we suppose the shipment to have been made 
 in an American vessel, the ship-owner has received one 
 one dollar and sixty-six cents for freight; and the whole 
 profit to the country has been three dollars and fifty cents, 
 the remaining fifty cents being the compensation for the 
 risk incurred in the transportation. 
 
BALANCE OF TRADE. 131 
 
 We never asserted, and have never heard it asserted, 
 that the whole excess of importation is " dear gain." We 
 only contended that the whole excess of importation was 
 not clear loss ; an assertion that will be found every week 
 in one half of the newspapers in the United States. 
 
 But from an expression in the last paragraph of the 
 New- York writer, it is apparent that his difficulty does not 
 arise wholly from misapprehension of our argument. The 
 cause lies deeper. Like many of our good citizens who 
 attempt to reason upon the subject, he seems possessed 
 with a superstitious reverence for gold and silver. " The 
 excess of importation," he says, " is dearly paid for by our 
 precious metals," &tc. How came we to have the precious 
 metals ? Or, to take his own example, how came the 
 flour merchant to have thirty-eight silver dollars, as well as 
 a barrel of flour to send to England to exchange for hard- 
 ware and broadcloth ? Certainly, by having sold other 
 barrels of flour for silver. And what difference does it 
 make to the country, whether he exchanges his flour di- 
 rectly with an Englishman for cutlery ; or whether he first 
 exchanges it with a Spaniard for silver, and then exchanges 
 the silver with the Englishman ? 
 
 All trade is effected by barter ; and where there is no 
 fraud, it is an exchange of equal values. The fair profits 
 of trade arise from the additional value which a man is able 
 to give to his merchandise. The merchant in Charleston 
 who sends a bale of cotton to Providence, confers upon it, 
 by its transportation, an additional value. It is worth more 
 at Providence than at Charleston ; and is therefore barter- 
 
132 BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 ed for a greater quantity of merchandise, whether that 
 merchandise be checks and ginghams, or ounces of silver. 
 The only reason that the price of silver and gold does not 
 vary as much as that of cotton, is, that being more durable 
 in their nature they are not affected by crops and seasons, 
 and being easy of transportation, it is not possible to give 
 them a great additional value by carrying them from one 
 country to another. Their price is therefore settled by an 
 average of the demand of all nations, that have a commer- 
 cial intercourse with one another. 
 
 Much of the confusion on this subject has arisen from the 
 attempt made by every nation to settle the relative value of 
 its coins. When Congress enacted that every dollar should 
 contain four hundred and sixteen grains of silver and ev- 
 ery cent two hundred and eight grains of copper and that 
 one hundred cents should be equal to a dollar, it fixed the 
 relative value of silver to copper as fifty to one. They 
 might as well have enacted that one pound of pig iron 
 should always be worth two cents and no more, in every 
 part of the country. A Spanish milled dollar has not un- 
 frequently been exchanged for one hundred and six cents ; 
 and yet the statute declares that one hundred cents are just 
 equal to a dollar. On the other hand, when there has been 
 a want of small coin, we have known a silver dollar ex- 
 changed for ninety-seven cents, the act of Congress not- 
 withstanding. Whenever there is a demand for merchanta- 
 ble silver such as Spanish dollars for the East India mar- 
 ket, the price, compared with that of gold and copper, 
 rises; when there is no such demand, the price falls. 
 
BALANCE OF TRADE. 133 
 
 When merchantable silver can be profitably exchanged for 
 foreign commodities, as in the East Indies and China, dol- 
 lars are exported ; when merchandise of other kinds can 
 be profitably exchanged for silver, as in the West Indies, 
 dollars are imported. Just as wheat is sometimes carried 
 from New- York to Liverpool ; and sometimes brought from 
 Liverpool to New-York. 
 
 The quantity of gold and silver in a country is no more a 
 standard of its wealth, than the quantity of iron or wood. 
 So far as it has exchangeable value, it constitutes a part of 
 the national wealth, but no more. A merchant does not 
 reckon his property by the number of dollars in his drawer. 
 On the contrary ; as soon as he receives money, he en- 
 deavours to part with it, by laying it out in the purchase of 
 other merchandise. He cannot add sufficient value to sil- 
 ver dollars, to make a profit by keeping them. A farmer 
 who exchanges his only dollar with a neighbour for a load 
 of manure, has not become poorer by the exchange, 
 though he has " exported all his precious metals." We 
 should think the neighbour who sold his manure for money 
 much nearer to ruin. The purchaser, by a judicious use of 
 the manure may add to its value, and insure a large profit 
 at harvest ; while the seller, if he did not himself export his 
 dollar could add nothing to its value, and in autumn would 
 have only the consolation of having " kept his precious met- 
 als at home" 
 
 With regard to the transfer of stock and public securities 
 to England, so pathetically alluded to by the writer in the 
 Statesman, a very satisfactory account can be given. It is 
 
134 BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 well known that money can be borrowed in England at four 
 per cent, upon a pledge of United States Stock. If, then, 
 capital can be advantageously employed in this country, it 
 is certainly desirable that the greater part of our public debt 
 should be transferred to England, upon such terms. We 
 have in this neighbourhood a very extensive manufactory, 
 the one at Dover, so well described by the Editor of the 
 Statesman last summer ; and we have another just com- 
 menced at Sornersworth, which will be of nearly equal im- 
 portance. If the proprietors of these establishments should 
 happen to be owners of public stock to the amount of one 
 hundred thousand dollars, and should want to expend that 
 sum in their manufactories, it would surely be better for 
 them to borrow it in England, than to sell their stock here. 
 It could not certainly be a very ruinous transaction for them- 
 selves or the country, if they enjoyed the use of the money, 
 and received for interest two thousand dollars a year more 
 than they paid. 
 
 The great fall in the price of exchange during the last 
 fortnight illustrates very strongly the remarks upon ex- 
 change, which we offered a few weeks ago. But we have 
 already exceeded our limits, and fear that we have trespass- 
 ed too much upon the patience of our readers. At some 
 future time, we shall resume the subject. 
 
 March 22, 1823. 
 

 PROTECTING DUTIES. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 " We confess ourselves to belong to that class of politicians who 
 are favorable to the protection of Domestic Industry." 
 
 IN quoting this passage from the New-Hampshire Patriot 
 we cordially adopt the opinion it expresses. We too are 
 favorable to the protection of domestic industry ; and that, 
 not in one branch merely, but in every way in which it can 
 be exerted. But an opinion has been very extensively and 
 zealously inculcated, that " domestic industry " is chiefly 
 employed in manufactures ; as if spools and spindles were 
 the only instruments of labor and skill. We wish well to 
 the manufactures of our country ; and we therefore wish 
 their true value to be understood. 
 
 The great object of industry is the acquisition of wealth, 
 or of those various commodities which are necessary for the 
 subsistence, comfort, or enjoyment of mankind. In com- 
 paring therefore the various modes in which industry may 
 be exerted at any given time, profit is the only standard of 
 value. That employment which makes the largest returns 
 
136 PROTECTING DUTIES. 
 
 in the shortest time and upon the smallest capital, in 
 other words, that employment which produces the lar- 
 gest profit, is the most valuable to the nation. In the case 
 of an individual, this principle is never questioned. No 
 man entertains a doubt whether the business, in which his 
 time and talents and money which constitute his capital 
 are most profitably employed, be the best business for him, 
 or not. He is only anxious to ascertain, with certainty, the 
 precise employment in which this profit can be made. 
 The question, when it regards a nation, is not materially 
 different. National industry should be exerted in that path 
 which leads to the greatest profit ; and the sagacity of indi- 
 viduals is always sufficient to discover that path. No mer- 
 chant, or manufacturer, needs an act of Congress to inform 
 him whether his business be worth pursuing. In the estab- 
 lishment of a new manufactory, then, the only question, as 
 well for the nation as the individual, is, Will it be profita- 
 ble ? Can the time, and skill, and money of the undertak- 
 ers be so well applied in any other employment ? If they 
 cannot, then the nation is benefited by such an establish- 
 ment. But if it be not profitable or at least, if there be 
 not a reasonable expectation of profit within a short time 
 the nation has suffered a loss of all the time, and skill, and 
 money expended upon it. Among an intelligent people, 
 therefore, manufactures will generally rise precisely at the 
 time and place in which they are wanted. 
 
 It has often been urged in favor of manufacturing estab- 
 lishments, that they give employment to numerous labor- 
 ers, and by using their capital at home, produce a greater 
 
PROTECTING DUTIES. ] 37 
 
 effect upon society, than commerce, which of necessity 
 communicates a part of its benefits to a foreign country. 
 But this distinction between the effects of manufacturing 
 and commercial industry is certainly fallacious. Agricul- 
 ture, commerce, and manufactures operate alike in pro- 
 ducing value. The farmer expends his time and skill, 
 which are his capital, upon his seed, which is his raw mate- 
 rial ; and by the aid of the soil, and rain, and sunshine, 
 which are his machinery, creates a new product, which 
 should be of sufficient value to reimburse his capital, replace 
 his raw material, and pay for the use of his machinery. 
 
 The merchant employs an expensive machine and many 
 laborers in converting one commodity into another, or in 
 giving an additional value to the same commodity. In a 
 voyage to Europe, he converts flour into cutlery, or potash 
 into broadcloth. His outward cargo is his raw material ; 
 and provided his profits are as great, he has enriched his 
 country as much as if, with the same labor, he had con- 
 verted cotton into ginghams, or flax into cambric. He has 
 employed American laborers, with American capital ; and 
 it makes no difference to the country whether the work has 
 been done on the land or the ocean. All that is material 
 in the case is the final profit of the enterprise. 
 
 It has recently been stated in the papers, that during the 
 years 1821 and 1822 there were received in the ports of 
 New-Bedford and Nantucket four million three hundred 
 and sixty thousand gallons of oil, which were brought in 
 about one hundred vessels. A whaler of three hundred 
 tons usually carries twenty-four men, including officers, and 
 
 IS 
 
138 PROTECTING DUTIES. 
 
 costs upon an average, including the outfits, from twenty 
 thousand to twenty-five thousand dollars. But as some of 
 these vessels were probably smaller than three hundred 
 tons, it would be nearer the truth to estimate them, each at 
 twenty thousand dollars and twenty men. Assuming forty 
 cents as the average price of oil, which however is much 
 lower than the fact, and that the ships on their return are 
 worth five thousand dollars each, it appears that a capital of 
 two millions of dollars has in two years made a return of 
 two millions two hundred and forty-four thousand dollars ; 
 which has been divided among two thousand seamen, be- 
 sides the countless number of farmers, teamsters, ship- 
 wrights, carpenters, blacksmiths, ropemakers, sailmakers, 
 blockmakers, riggers, and merchants, that must have been 
 employed in fitting out a hundred ships. Is there no indus- 
 try in this ? And is it not profitable industry too ? 
 
 But it is said that " we are miserably dependant," be- 
 cause we do not manufacture every thing that we consume. 
 And in the same sense, and for the same reason, every in- 
 dividual in society is " miserably dependant." The hatter, 
 who has acquired a fondness for the luxury of a pair of 
 shoes, is miserably dependant upon the shoemaker; and 
 the shoemaker, who is so effeminate as to desire a coat of a 
 decent make, is miserably dependant upon the tailor ; and 
 the lawyer who can make neither a shoe, a coat, nor a hat, 
 is miserably dependant upon them all. The same reasons 
 which prove that a nation should manufacture every thing it 
 consumes, will prove that a town should purchase nothing of 
 its neighbours ; that a family should exercise every trade ; 
 
PROTECTING DUTIES. 139 
 
 nay, that every man should do every thing for himself. 
 Portsmouth " is miserably dependant " upon Durham for 
 wood and ship-timber ; upon Dover for nails and cotton 
 cloth ; and will soon be as " miserably dependant " upon 
 Somersworth for broadcloth. Yet such is the force of hab- 
 it, that instead of struggling against these chains which our 
 neighbours are continually fastening upon us, we perversely 
 rejoice in their increase. 
 
 It is our earnest wish that manufactories should be estab- 
 lished among us, as fast as they can be profitably employ- 
 ed ; but no faster. Every attempt to force them, by giv- 
 ing them an unnatural profit, tends ultimately to destroy 
 them. Among a free people, profit is necessarily fluctuat- 
 ing. It never continues long with any particular class of la- 
 borers. Let manufacturers have all the encouragement 
 which they appear to wish, and, in two years, the whole 
 commercial capital of the country would be vested in man- 
 ufactories. The Nantucket whalemen would expend their 
 two millions of dollars in stocking-looms and spinning-jen- 
 nies, and instead of being the purchasers of cotton and 
 broadcloth they would be the sellers. Competition would 
 lower the price, and in the end, manufacturers would be 
 ruined by the increased number of their laborers. Nor 
 would this be the only evil. That large and valuable class 
 of manufacturers who are employed in the building and 
 equipment of ships, would be thrown out of employment, 
 without any equivalent advantage to themselve's or the 
 country. 
 
140 PROTECTING DUTIES. 
 
 We wish all possible success to manufactures; but we 
 are not willing that spinning and weaving should engross the 
 name of NATIONAL INDUSTRY. 
 
 May 3, 1823. 
 
 No. II. 
 
 " It should be the policy of the government, to let our manufac- 
 tures regulate the price of foreign ones, and not suffer foreign 
 ones to regulate the price of our's in our own market." 
 
 Salem Observer, Jlug. 16. 
 
 WE have seen with regret, that the editor of the Salem 
 Observer, in several elaborate essays on the encouragement 
 of manufactures, has advanced and attempted to support 
 what appears to us to be very erroneous principles in polit- 
 ical economy. We have not leisure at present to discuss 
 the whole subject ; but the sentence we have quoted above, 
 is at once so plausible and so fallacious, that we cannot suf- 
 fer it to pass without remark. 
 
 It means that the American government should in all 
 cases, impose such duties on foreign manufactures as would 
 raise the price to the fair cost and profit of similar articles 
 manufactured in the United States. This is the explana- 
 tion which the author himself gives us ; for he adds, " If 
 duties are laid on English manufactures, so high as to ren- 
 der it impossible for them to undersell American manufac- 
 tures without making a sacrifice, then it is plain that our 
 manufactures, though comparatively of small amount, will 
 regulate the price of theirs. Since, if they cannot undersell 
 
PROTECTING DUTIES. 141 
 
 us, they must either quit the market or sell at the price of 
 our own." 
 
 This looks very patriotic ; but let us see its effect upon 
 the community. 
 
 Professor Raffinesque has shown that the tea-plant can 
 be cultivated with success in the valley of the Mississippi. 
 But in consequence of the high price of labor in the United 
 States, it is supposed that hyson tea could not be raised 
 and prepared for use under two dollars a pound. Good 
 hyson tea can be imported from China and sold free of duty, 
 for about sixty cents a pound, and after paying the duty, 
 for about a dollar. The annual consumption in the Unit- 
 ed States is about five hundred thousand pounds. Sup- 
 pose, then, that a few enterprising gentlemen in the West 
 were to commence the preparation of domestic hyson tea ; 
 would it be the policy of the United States at once to im- 
 pose an additional duty of one dollar per pound on foreign 
 tea, that the price might be regulated " in our own mar- 
 ket," by the price of " our manufactures, though compara- 
 tively of small amount ? " That is, that we should be oblig- 
 ed to give two dollars a pound for tea, instead of one ? In 
 other words, that the consumers of tea in the United States 
 should be annually taxed half a million of dollars, for the 
 encouragement of the manufactures in the West ? 
 
 Take a domestic example. Before the introduction of 
 the improved machinery in our New England factories, 
 good cotton cloth, fit for a farmer's shirt, could not be made 
 for less than from thirty-three to thirty-seven cents a yard. 
 The cotton was spun on a large wheel, and woven in a 
 
142 PROTECTING DUTIES. 
 
 hand loom, and necessarily required much time and labor 
 to be wrought into cloth. Cloth of a similar quality can 
 now be obtained for nineteen or twenty cents. A farmer in 
 this neighbourhood, a disciple of the same school with the 
 editor of the Observer, has lately determined to encourage 
 domestic manufactures in his own family to the extent of 
 his power. He has summoned his two elder daughters 
 from the dairy, where they were earning large profits by 
 preparing butter and cheese for market, and has persuaded 
 them to resume the spinning-wheel and loom, for the pur- 
 pose of weaving cloth for their brothers' shirts. He is 
 aware that every yard of cloth they make will cost them 
 thirty-seven cents ; but to encourage them he has promised 
 that the boys shall give them that price ; and he has pro- 
 hibited his sons from purchasing any factory cloth, under 
 a penalty of paying a fine to him of seventeen cents a yard. 
 On the other hand, he has taken his second son from the 
 plough, and has set him to work to make shoes for his sis- 
 ters. It is true the boy is but a sorry shoemaker, and has 
 already spent three days in making a pair, of which a cob- 
 ler would be ashamed. But his father, to encourage him, 
 has ordered the sister to give him fifteen shillings for them ; 
 equal to what he might have earned by three days' plough- 
 ing. The mother has abandoned the care of a large flock 
 of turkeys, she was fattening for market, to enable her to 
 purchase a little tea and sugar, and is busily engaged in 
 boiling beets into sugar and in drying carrots for coffee. 
 What will be the situation of the family at the end of the 
 year, the editor of the Observer will probably be able to in- 
 form us. 
 
PROTECTING DUTIES. J43 
 
 The truth is, it is for the interest of a nation, as well as 
 of an individual, to purchase commodities at the lowest 
 price for which they can be obtained ; and it is perfectly 
 immaterial whether they are procured by manufacturing or 
 commercial industry. If a tax be laid on foreign cloths to 
 encourage the manufacture of domestic ones, the consumer 
 pays the tax, whether he wear a foreign cloth or a domestic 
 one. For example : if an American broadcloth of a partic- 
 lar quality cannot be made under six dollars a yard, and a 
 foreign one of the same quality may be imported for four 
 dollars, then the price of the American cloth must be re- 
 duced to four dollars, or no one will buy it. But if, to save 
 the domestic manufacturer, a duty of two dollars be impos- 
 ed upon the foreign cloth, then it is made to cost six dol- 
 lars, and every man who wears a coat of that quality, 
 whether foreign or domestic, is compelled to give six dol- 
 lars a yard instead of four. Here then, the general interest 
 of the nation is sacrificed to the private interest of the man- 
 ufacturer. A most desirable result ! 
 
 An individual and it is equally true of a nation should 
 employ himself in that kind of labor in which he most ex- 
 cels, and the products of which, he is able to dispose of to 
 the most advantage. Let him be constantly employed, and 
 sell the products of his own labor high, and purchase the 
 products of the labor of others cheap, and it must be indif- 
 ferent to him whether he deals with persons in this street, 
 or the next ; in America, or in Europe. 
 Sept. 6, 1823. 
 
TRADE WITH THE BRITISH WEST 
 INDIES. 
 
 FROM the 24th of August 1822, to the 1st of November 
 1823, ten American vessels have sailed from this port to the 
 British West Indies, measuring in the whole one thousand 
 five hundred and forty-seven tons, and carrying cargoes 
 worth twenty-three thousand one hundred and twenty-one 
 dollars. Of these vessels, five are now absent ; and the 
 remaining five, measuring nine hundred and fifteen tons, 
 have returned with cargoes which were invoiced in the 
 West Indies twenty-six thousand and thirty-six dollars. It 
 has been ascertained that these return cargoes were pur- 
 chased entirely with the proceeds of the outward cargoes. 
 These facts furnish a striking proof of the fallacy of the old 
 doctrine of the balance of trade. Only one half of the ves- 
 sels engaged in this branch of the West India trade have 
 yet returned ; yet the custom-house books exhibit an ex- 
 cess of imports over exports of two thousand nine hundred 
 and fifteen dollars. If the remaining vessels should dispose 
 of their cargoes on the same terms, and should arrive in 
 safety, this excess of imports will amount to twenty thou- 
 
TRADE WITH THE BRITISH WEST INDIES, 145 
 
 sand eight hundred and rinety-eight. Mr. Carey of Phila- 
 delphia and the Political Economists of his school, will infer 
 from this fact that the balance of trade is against us ; that 
 we are in debt to the West l,tn;\ planters at least to the 
 amount of that excess ; and that to pay the debt, we must 
 make new shipments of lumber and provisions, or drain our 
 coffers of specie. Yet, as if to make the whole argument 
 ridiculous, it is a. fact that nearly all these vessels brought 
 home specie, as well as colonial produce. 
 
 There is another fallacy, however, in this view of the sub- 
 ject, which is worth pointing out. It must not be inferred 
 that there has been a gross profit of more than ninety per 
 cent, on these shipments, because there will be an excess 
 of twenty thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight dollars 
 on the invoice price of the return cargoes. On the contra- 
 ry, it is by no means certain that the business has yielded 
 any profit to the merchant. It is well known, that in the 
 West Indies nearly all the trade with foreign vessels is car- 
 ried on by barter, and in most of the colonies a system of 
 artificial prices is kept up for the express purpose of attract- 
 ing foreign trade. Thus in Demarara, they will very liber- 
 ally offer an American captain to purchase his lumber at 
 thirty dollars a thousand, but then he must take his pay in 
 molasses at thirty-two cents a gallon. If the purchase were 
 made on either side with specie, without reference to an 
 equivalent sale, the nominal amount would probably be re- 
 duced at least forty-five per cent. 
 
 But whatever profit has been reaped by the merchant, it 
 B certain that only a small portion of it remains to him at 
 
 19 
 
146 TRADE WITH THE BRITISH WEST INDIES, 
 
 the termination of the adventure. He is merely the agent 
 of a large number of persons, who share with him the ad- 
 vantages of commerce. When he has paid the farmer and 
 manufacturer who have furnished his outward cargo, the 
 numerous laborers who have prepared and brought it to 
 market, the mechanics who have fitted his vessel for sea, 
 and the manners who have performed the voyage, there 
 usually remains but a small sum to pay him for his time and 
 skill, to say nothing of the risk he has run of failing en- 
 tirely in his enterprise. 
 
 Nov. 15, 1823. 
 
THE TARIFF. 
 
 IT was our intention to give a particular examination 
 of the provisions of the bill establishing a new tariff; but 
 the subject is so extensive in itself, and has already re- 
 ceived so much attention, that we shall confine our remarks 
 to one or two points of more immediate interest to this vi- 
 cinity. To those who are desirous of examining the sub- 
 ject more at large, we recommend the very able essays of 
 the editor of the Boston Daily Advertiser, which have been 
 published in that paper, and in the Weekly Messenger, dur- 
 ing the last ten days. 
 
 The friends of the new tariff are perpetually asserting, 
 that its object and tendency are to encourage national indus- 
 try and increase the national wealth. We shall show, on 
 the contrary, that in some particulars at least, it is hostile to 
 domestic manufactures, and will be, in its effects, oppres- 
 sive to the poor. 
 
 One of the most valuable articles of domestic manufac- 
 ture is a well-built ship. It employs materials derived from 
 the forest and the soil, and requires the labor and skill of a 
 great number and variety of artisans. At least eight ihou- 
 
148 THE TARIFF. 
 
 sand days' work are necessary to build and equip a vessel of 
 three hundred tons. And the whole of this labor is manly 
 and athletic. In this particular our carpenters, and riggers, 
 and blacksmiths, and ropernakers may claim some superi- 
 ority over the spinners and weavers of a crowded manufac- 
 tory. We do not mean to speak disrespectfully of any 
 branch of honest industry ; but in reasoning upon the policy 
 of any national act, its effect upon the character and habits 
 of the people should be taken into the account. 
 
 It may be assumed as a fact, that for the present at least, 
 all articles which are derived wholly or in part from foreign 
 countries, will, if the tariff bill be passed, rise to the price at 
 which the foreign article can be procured. The very fact 
 of our resorting to foreign countries at all, is a proof that 
 the domestic supply is not sufficient, or cannot be afforded 
 at so cheap a rate as the foreign. Consequently, if the 
 price of the foreign article be increased, the domestic man- 
 ufacturer will raise his price to the same standard, without 
 fearing any increased competition from abroad. The fol- 
 lowing statement, with which we have been favored by a 
 gentleman who has had much experience in ship-building, 
 will show the amount of duties which will be paid under the 
 new tariff for every well built ship of three hundred or 
 three hundred and fifty tons. 
 
 10 tons of hemp, at 2 cents per Ib $448 00 
 
 1 chain cable and fixtures, at 3 cts. per Ib. 285 00 
 10 tons of iron, including anchors, iron-work 
 for rigging, spikes, &c. if estimated on the 
 manufactured articles would be from 2 to 
 
THE TARIFF. 149 
 
 4 cts. per Ib. but assuming the duty only 
 on iron in bars, which is the lowest rate, 
 
 at 1 cent per Ib 224 00 
 
 30 bolts Russia duck at $2 60 00 
 
 10 do. half duck do 2000 
 
 15 do. Ravens at $1,25 18 75 
 
 2500 Ibs. copper bolts > 4 ^ 16Q OQ 
 
 1500 Ibs. copper spikes ) 
 
 6 cwt. white lead and other paints at $4 ... 26 00 
 Ship-chandlery sundry articles, more than 100 00 
 
 $1341 75 
 
 The price of such a ship, when equipped, is about six- 
 teen thousand dollars. What would our cotton manufactur- 
 ers say to a tax of eight and a half per cent, on the cost of 
 their machinery ? It is of no consequence to the ship-build- 
 er, whether he pay this tax to the government in the form of 
 a duty on imported articles, or as an additional profit to the 
 person of whom he buys them. A ship then, if well equip- 
 ped, will cost nearly one thousand three hundred and fifty 
 dollars more, than if the duties were not imposed. But 
 while the price is thus increased, the demand for ships and 
 of course the profit of their employment is by the operation 
 of the tariff diminished. The effect of this upon the nu- 
 merous and valuable classes of men mechanics and manu- 
 facturers who are engaged in building, fitting out, and re- 
 pairing ships, may easily be conjectured. 
 
 But if ships should continue to be employed as hereto- 
 fore, another effect will be produced by the tariff, no less 
 disastrous to our mechanics. The owners of vessels will 
 
150 THE TARIFF. 
 
 expend as little as possible upon them in our own ports, and 
 depend upon getting their equipments in the foreign ports to 
 which they may be destined. For instance, a new ship in- 
 tended for a voyage to Russia will be fitted for sea with old 
 sails and cordage, and on her arrival at St. Petersburg 
 will be rigged anew. Another vessel will be spiked and 
 coppered in London, or obtain her anchors at Liverpool ; 
 while a third will be painted in Holland. In other words, 
 foreign mechanics will be employed, in preference to our 
 own, for the obvious reason, that the stock with which they 
 work can be procured cheaper in foreign ports, than at 
 home. 
 
 And this is the bill for the encouragement of national in- 
 dustry ! 
 
 We have other remarks to offer on this subject, which 
 must be, for the present, deferred. 
 
 Jan. 31, 1824. 
 
RATE OF INTEREST. 
 
 DURING the present session of the New York legislature, 
 a committee was appointed by the Senate to consider the 
 expediency of reducing the rate of interest, which in that 
 state is seven per cent. In the report of the committee, 
 which was made on the 8th of March, the right of the legis- 
 lature to fix the standard of interest is defended by the ex- 
 ample of all civilized nations, and the expediency of a re- 
 duction is inferred from the existing state of trade. It is to 
 be regretted that the committee did not take a wider view 
 of the subject, and examine the principle upon which the 
 right of establishing a standard of interest is founded ; for 
 we apprehend that some erroneous opinions respecting it 
 are very generally entertained. 
 
 When a man receives a loan from his neighbour, a portion 
 of the aggregate capital of the community is transferred to 
 him ; he borrows, in fact, not money, but capital. Take 
 an example, which, at first view, would seem inconsistent 
 with this assertion, the loan of money by a bank on accom- 
 modation paper. The borrower pledges the credit of two 
 or three of his friends, who promise for him that five hnn- 
 
152 RATE OF INTEREST. 
 
 dred dollars shall be returned to the bank in sixty days ; 
 and on the faith of this promise he receives certain pieces 
 of paper, which may at any time be exchanged for five 
 hundred ounces of silver. This convertibility of paper into 
 silver, makes the paper as useful to him as silver would be, 
 and as effective for all the purposes of trade. But in fact 
 he wishes for neither paper nor silver. His object in mak- 
 ing the loan is to enable him to purchase one hundred bar- 
 rels of flour, and he would be as well satisfied, to receive 
 the one hundred barrels of flour from the bank, without the 
 intervention of paper, or silver, at all. In receiving bank 
 bills, or specie, from the bank, he simply receives a ticket 
 entitling him to a certain quantity of the aggregate capital 
 of the community. It is like receiving the key of a store, 
 containing the goods which he wishes to possess. The 
 money is merely the instrument of transfer. It is not, in it- 
 self, the subject of the loan, any more than the key of the 
 store would be. 
 
 Capital consists of positive value vested in some material 
 object ; and the aggregate capital of the community is of 
 course the sum of all the values possessed by every individ- 
 ual, whatever the object may be in which these values are 
 vested, whether houses, lands, merchandise, or furniture. 
 When a man parts with the possession of capital for a limit- 
 ed time, he is entitled to an equitable compensation for the 
 use of it, and this compensation is properly denominated 
 rent. If the capital parted with be a specific object, the 
 rent is usually settled by a specific contract. Thus houses 
 are rented, and books loaned from a circulating library, and 
 
RATE OF INTEREST. 153 
 
 horses let to hire from a livery stable, for a certain sum 
 previously agreed on. In all these cases, the sum to be 
 paid is adjusted by mutual convenience. But when the 
 capital transferred is not a specific object, but only a por- 
 tion of the aggregate property of the community, there 
 seems to be no reason why the rent should not be in like 
 manner adjusted by the mutual convenience of the borrow- 
 er and lender. It is as unreasonable to fix by law the rent 
 of merchandise, as the rent of a farm ; for the merchandise 
 and the farm are equally capital, that is, vested values, part- 
 ed with for a limited time. As money is merely the meas- 
 ure of these values, it is as absurd to talk of the interest of 
 money, as of the interest of a yard-stick. The one meas- 
 ures the value, precisely as the other measures the quantity. 
 
 Interest is composed of the rent of capital and of the 
 price of insurance against the hazard of losing it. The risk 
 of losing it depends upon the manner in which it is to be 
 employed, and upon the personal character of the borrow- 
 er. But the rent of capital is subject to constant fluctua- 
 tions, and the price of insurance must vary in every succes- 
 sive contract. How then is it possible to fix by law an 
 equitable standard of interest ? And upon what principles 
 can the right of the legislature to fix the rent of floating 
 capital and the premium of insurance against bad debts, be 
 defended, which would not equally give it the right to fix 
 the rent of land, the wages of labor, and the premium of in- 
 surance against the perils of the sea ? 
 
 Nor is it necessary that the law should fix a standard of 
 interest for parties who do not agree upon one themselves. 
 20 
 
154 RATE OF INTEREST. 
 
 It is not found necessary to settle a standard of freight, or 
 to enact that a yard of cloth shall be of a determined value, 
 when the buyer and seller neglect to adjust it. The grand 
 error consists in considering money as capital, instead of re- 
 garding it as only the measure of capital. When dollars 
 and cents are viewed in the same light as the yard-stick 
 and scales, we shall cease to make a difference between the 
 loan of money and the use of merchandise. Both resting 
 upon the same principle, will be subject to the same rules. 
 
 April 23, 1825. 
 
POLITICAL SCIENCE. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 A history of political knowledge would at any time afford 
 a very agreeable and useful subject of speculation. But at 
 present, when so many new states are forming, and so 
 many changes are making even in established governments, 
 it possesses peculiar interest. It is only in modern times 
 that the theory of constitutions has formed a part of liberal 
 studies. An account of the theories which have succes- 
 sively prevailed would open a path, which as yet is almost 
 wholly unexplored. In the hope of directing the attention 
 of others to this department of literary history, we shall oc- 
 casionally publish a few remarks, the materials of which 
 have been for some time collected. For many of them we 
 are indebted to the industry of a valued friend. 
 
 Political inquiries into the rights and duties of sovereign 
 and subject presuppose a degree of established order in a 
 state, which we do not find in very early times. Of course, 
 no such inquiries were made among the Greeks until their 
 constitutions, irregular as they were, were in a great meas- 
 
156 POLITICAL SCIENCE. 
 
 ure fixed. Lawgivers made their appearance, says Hee- 
 ren, much before the spirit of speculation had been occu- 
 pied on the subject of politics. The objects of those law- 
 givers, therefore, were altogether practical. Among the 
 Romans, though we find many practical applications of im- 
 portant political maxims in the contests between the king 
 and the people, and afterwards between the Senate and the 
 Plebeians, yet theoretical inquiries into the rights on which 
 such contests were founded arose even later in the progress 
 of society than among the Greeks. In like manner, in 
 modern times, no trace of political science can be found till 
 after the nations had been distinctly separated, and partial 
 limits had been set to the different orders and powers of the 
 state. The feudal system forbade it entirely, from its rude 
 simplicity, which acknowledged no relations in society but 
 those of lord and serf, and in war, of leader and follower ; 
 and even if other circumstances had tended to develope 
 political science, the fatal torpor which had checked the 
 spirit of inquiry in other departments of knowledge would 
 have prevented it. 
 
 The present age has afforded the first examples of the 
 formation of a constitution, in the modern sense of the 
 terms ; that is, of a form of government, complete in itself, 
 established at once. There was nothing like it in former 
 times ; for the lawgivers of ancient Greece were merely re- 
 formers of existing usages ; and what is called the constitu- 
 tion in most nations of Europe is merely ancient custom, 
 more or less modified by legislative enactments or royal de- 
 crees. The reason of these usages and customs, and the 
 
POLITICAL SCIENCE. 157 
 
 rights on which they were founded, are, comparatively 
 speaking, the subjects of modern investigation. We shall 
 pass at once, therefore, to the period of modern history. 
 
 It is not until the end or towards the end of the middle 
 ages, that we find a state of government and of intellectual 
 cultivation such as to give birth to political inquiry. The 
 first trace of it seems to be found in the long controversy 
 between the emperors and the popes on the great question 
 of ecclesiastical and temporal rights over the bishops or, 
 as it was then called, the right of election and investiture 
 which began about the year 1321, under the reign of Louis 
 of Bavaria. The traces here however are very slight, as 
 the question was in fact a theological one, and controverted 
 between independent princes ; so that the reciprocal rights 
 of sovereign and subject were only incidentally examined. 
 
 The next trace is found in France in 1407, on occasion 
 of the murder of a Duke of Orleans by a Duke of Burgun- 
 dy, in which John Petit, a doctor of divinity, came forth as 
 the champion of the criminal, in a work, entitled " The 
 Rights of Men against Tyrants and Prodigals ; " a book 
 which the Council of Constance ordered to be publicly 
 burnt, though the order was never executed. 
 
 In Italy where such inquiries might naturally be expect- 
 ed, from its division into small republics and from the activ- 
 ity of political parties, we find none for many years. The 
 politics of the Italian states were confined to narrow in- 
 trigues for personal and family aggrandizement ; and were 
 altogether practical. Philosophical inquiry, systems and 
 theories, were quite unknown ; and even in Maehtavel, who 
 
158 POLITICAL SCIENCE. 
 
 published his "Prince "in 1415, and his te Discourses on 
 Livy " a few years after, we find only detached maxims 
 founded on experience, and no attempt to lay down general 
 principles, or to treat the subject in a scientific form. 
 
 The Reformation in fact gave the first impulse to politic- 
 al inquiries in a regular form ; not only because it claimed 
 a general freedom of thinking, and excited a general spirit 
 of investigation, but because in its very course and conse- 
 quences it disturbed the most important questions of right 
 between sovereign and subject. The demand of the re- 
 former was religious freedom, which was denied by all the 
 sovereigns of Christendom. Hence arose at once the great 
 question, whether the subject is bound to render unlimited 
 obedience in all points. In 1531 the faculties of theology 
 and law at the University of Wittemberg, under the influ- 
 ence of Luther, made a solemn decision, that in matters of 
 faith, emperor and prince were alike without right to claim 
 unconditional obedience. Zuingle, who had begun to 
 teach in Switzerland as early as 1518, soon went beyond 
 the Germans, and declared publicly that a bad prince 
 might lawfully be deposed ; in which he was followed and 
 supported by Calvin. This important principle was laid at 
 the very beginning of the Reformation, and is in fact the 
 foundation of all modern liberty. It put at issue the impor- 
 tant question, when and how far the subject may refuse 
 obedience, or in other words, how far he is independent of 
 his sovereign. It was indeed at first a theological ques- 
 tion ; but afterwards, as the Reformation itself assumed a 
 political character, this too became a political question. In 
 
POLITICAL SCIENCE. 159 
 
 the war that followed the League of Schmalkald in 1531, 
 and at the peace of Augsburg in 1555, the question was 
 more political than theological. 
 
 We shall hereafter show more fully, that in modern times 
 religious freedom has been the parent of civil liberty ; and 
 that almost every thing valuable in political science may be 
 traced back to the Reformation by Luther. 
 
 July 17, 1824. 
 
 No. II. 
 
 THE troubles in the Netherlands which began in 1568 
 and ended in the establishment of their independence in 
 1609, and the wars of the Huguenots in France from 1562 
 to 1593 afforded the next occasion for political discussions. 
 The questions respecting constitutional forms, however, to 
 which we are now so much accustomed, had not then aris- 
 en. The inhabitants of the Low Countries were contend- 
 ing only for the maintenance of their former privileges ; 
 and amidst the horrible confusion of the civil wars in 
 France, when every man's life was as uncertain as the cast 
 of a die, there was no leisure or inclination for political the- 
 ories. The circumstances of the times, however, brought 
 every man to decide practically for himself, how far it was 
 lawful for the subject to resist oppression from his govern- 
 ment. There were even a few books written in those un- 
 quiet times in which this point was freely examined. Thus 
 Hubert Languet, son of the governor of Burgundy and one 
 of the best practical statesmen of the age, wrote, under the 
 
160 POLITICAL SCIENCE. 
 
 name of Junius Brutus, a book that excited a great sensa- 
 tion ; though it now appears to be of little value. It was 
 entitled a Justification against Tyrants, and was published 
 in Switzerland in 1577, though the titlepage bears the 
 name of Edinburgh. Another work was published in Paris 
 in 1589, entitled Four Books concerning the just Expulsion 
 of Henry III. from the Kingdom of France. It was written 
 by some partisan of the Duke of Mayenne, whose name has 
 not been preserved. In 1592 the Abbe Raynald, Profes- 
 sor of Theology at Rheims, wrote, under the name of Ros- 
 saus, a book, the subject of which is sufficiently explained 
 in the title. It was called A Treatise on the just Authority 
 of the Christian Commonwealth over impious Kings and 
 Heretics ; and especially on the Right of Expelling Henry of 
 Navarre or any other Heretic from the Kingdom of France. 
 Two years afterwards, when Henry IV. made his entry into 
 his good city of Paris, this book was burnt by order of the 
 Parliament of Paris. 
 
 The political work of Mariana, the great historian of 
 Spain, is on every account worthy of particular attention. 
 He published at Talavera, in 1608, A Treatise on the 
 Rights and Duties of a King, in three books, which he ded- 
 icated oddly enough to Philip II. It was intended to jus- 
 tify James Clement for assassinating Henry III. of France ; 
 and the grand principle of the work is, that the authority of 
 the people is superior to that of kings. It was burnt by or- 
 der of the Parliament of Paris in 1610. 
 
 But by far the most important political writer of the six- 
 teenth century was John Bodin. He was born at Angers 
 
POLITICAL SCIENCE. 161 
 
 in 1530; and applied himself to the practice of the law, first 
 at Toulouse, where he read lectures on that science with 
 much applause, and afterwards at Paris. But soon devot- 
 ing himself to politics, he was made secretary to the Duke 
 of Alengon, and travelled with him into England and Flan- 
 ders. In 1576 he was chosen a deputy to the last States 
 General held at Blois, in which he contended manfully for 
 the rights of the people. He particularly opposed the de- 
 signs of those who would have compelled all the subjects of 
 the king to embrace the Catholic faith ; by which he drew 
 upon himself the marked displeasure of Henry the Third. 
 He died of the plague at Laon, in 1596. He belonged to 
 the Protestant party, but was so much in advance of his age 
 in his sentiments of religious toleration, that he is represent- 
 ed by different writers as a Huguenot, a Papist, a Deist, a 
 Jew, and an Atheist, to say nothing of his being reputed a 
 sorcerer, a reproach which he shared with Friar Bacon. 
 Chancellor D'Aguesseau pronounces him to have been a 
 worthy magistrate, a learned author, and a good citizen. 
 
 He published at Paris in 1577 a treatise in French on 
 the Republic, in one volume folio. It met with such suc- 
 cess, that four editions were printed at Paris in three years 
 (seven editions according to Dugald Stewart) ; an edition at 
 Lyons in 1593, and another at Geneva in 1600. It was 
 translated into Latin by the author and published at Paris 
 in 1586, and another Latin translation, a very bad one, was 
 printed at London about the same time. When the author 
 visited England in 1579 with the Duke of Alen^on, he 
 found that public lectures were delivered on this work, both 
 
 21 
 
162 POLITICAL SCIENCE. 
 
 in London and Cambridge. In 1606 it was " done into 
 English " by Richard Knolles, with so much spirit and taste 
 that the translation was considered superior to either the 
 French or Latin original. 
 
 The leading principle of this work, so celebrated in its 
 time and now so little known, is, that " a state is a collection 
 of families, which, in accordance with the maxims of justice, 
 transact their common affairs by a common head." This 
 common head he supposed to unite the legislative and ex- 
 ecutive powers, and to be indivisible. He distinguished 
 between monarchy and despotism, by the justice or injus- 
 tice of the common head ; and made the lawfulness of the 
 government to depend entirely upon the justice with which 
 it was administered. 
 
 " He appears to have been one of the first," says Dugald 
 Stewart, " that united a philosophical turn of thinking with 
 an extensive knowledge of jurisprudence and of history." 
 " In his views of the philosophy of law, he has approach- 
 ed very nearly to some leading ideas of Lord Bacon 5 
 while, in his refined combinations of historical facts, he has 
 more than once struck into a train of speculation, bearing a 
 strong resemblance to that afterwards pursued by Montes- 
 quieu. Of this resemblance so remarkable an instance oc- 
 curs in his chapter on the moral effects of climate, and on 
 the attention due to this circumstance by the legislator, that 
 it has repeatedly subjected the author of l The Spirit of 
 Laws ' (but in my opinion without any good reason) to the 
 imputation of plagiarism. A resemblance to Montesquieu, 
 still more honorable to Bodin, may be traced in their com- 
 
POLITICAL SCIENCE. 
 
 mon attachment to religious as well as civil liberty. To 
 have caught, in the sixteenth century, somewhat of the phi- 
 losophical spirit of the eighteenth, reflects less credit on the 
 force of his mind, than to have imbibed in the midst of the 
 theological controversies of his age, those lessons of mutual 
 forbearance and charity, which a long and sad experience 
 of the fatal effects of persecution has, to this day, so imper- 
 fectly taught to the most enlightened nations of Europe." 
 
 Bayle pronounces him an exact and judicious writer, of 
 great genius, of vast knowledge, and of wonderful memory 
 and reading ; and in the opinion of La Harpe, his Treatise 
 of the Republic was " the germ of ' The Spirit of Laws.' " 
 
 A writer who thus anticipated Bacon and Montesquieu 
 was no ordinary man. 
 
 July 24, 1824. 
 
BANKRUPT LAWS. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 AMONG the concerns to which the attention of Congress 
 will be called the present session, there is no one more im- 
 portant than that of " establishing uniform laws on the sub- 
 ject of Bankruptcies throughout the United States." The 
 power of enacting such laws was expressly given by the 
 constitution ; and of course the exercise of this power was 
 contemplated by the framers of the government. There 
 appears to be some diversity of opinion respecting the gen- 
 eral policy of such laws, and still more concerning the par- 
 ticular provisions which they ought to contain. We shall 
 take some occasion hereafter to discuss the general ques- 
 tion ; and we think it can be made apparent that a uniform 
 system of bankrupt laws, under proper regulations, would 
 tend even more to the security of the creditor, than to the 
 relief of the debtor. It is our design at present to make a 
 brief sketch of the origin, progress, and present state of 
 the English Bankrupt Law ; the successive alterations and 
 amendments of which may furnish some useful hints for the 
 consideration of the subject in this country. 
 
BANKRUPT LAWS. 
 
 The first Bankrupt Law was passed in 1542 in the 35th 
 year of Henry the Eighth. It is entitled, " An act against 
 such persons as do make bankrupt," and has the following 
 remarkable preamble, showing conclusively that the security 
 of the creditor was its only object : " Whereas divers and 
 sundry persons, craftily obtaining into their hands great sub- 
 stance of other men's goods, do suddenly flee to parts un- 
 known, or keep their houses, not minding to pay or restore 
 to any their creditors, their dues, but at their own will and 
 pleasure consume debts and the substance obtained by cred- 
 it of other men, for their own pleasure and delicate living, 
 against all reason, equity, and good conscience ; it is enact- 
 ed," &tc. By this statute, a court of commissioners was 
 erected, consisting of the Lord Chancellor, and the two 
 Chief Justices, with whom several of the great officers of 
 state were associated, who had power, upon the complaint 
 in writing of any party grieved, to make such orders re- 
 specting the person and property of such debtor, as to them 
 should seem expedient ; to cause his lands and goods to be 
 sold, and the proceeds to be divided rateably among his 
 creditors ; and to call before them and examine upon oath 
 all such persons as were suspected of having or concealing 
 any part of the debtor's property. It was also enacted, that 
 if any person concealed any part of the debtor's effects, he 
 should forfeit double the value of the property concealed ; 
 that if any person made a false claim before the commis- 
 sioners, he should forfeit double the amount of his claim ; 
 and that if any person colluded with the debtor to have a 
 false claim allowed, he should forfeit all his goods and chat- 
 
166 BANKRUPT LAWS. 
 
 tels ; the several forfeitures to be employed by the commis- 
 sioners in the payment of the bankrupt's debts. By this 
 statute only two acts of bankruptcy are specified, that of 
 fleeing to parts unknown, and that of keeping house, not 
 minding to pay his creditors. Until one of these acts was 
 done by the debtor, the commissioners had no authority to 
 proceed according to the statute. And it is expressly pro- 
 vided that the creditors shall not be barred of their debts, 
 excepting so far as they are actually paid by the effects of 
 the debtor. It is worthy of remark, that both in this and 
 the two next statutes on the same subject, the bankrupt is 
 uniformly considered a criminal, and is usually designated 
 as the offender; " the goods of such offender shall be taken 
 by the commissioners," &c. Lord Coke somewhere re- 
 marks, that we have fetched as well the name as the wick- 
 edness of bankrupts from foreign nations ; and he adds, that 
 no act of parliament was made against any English bank- 
 rupt, until the 34th year of Henry the Eighth, when the 
 English merchant had rioted in three kinds of costlinesses, 
 namely, costly building, costly diet, and costly apparel. 
 
 This act continued unaltered for twenty-eight years ; and 
 we have nothing in the books to show how it was executed, 
 or what construction was put upon it. 
 
 In 1570, the 13th of Elizabeth, an act was passed for 
 " the repression " of bankrupts, and " for a plain declara- 
 tion who is and ought to be deemed a bankrupt." This 
 statute confines the operation of the law to merchants and 
 traders ; and enumerating several additional acts of bank- 
 ruptcy, such as beginning to keep house, or departing from 
 
BANKRUPT LAWS. 167 
 
 his house, or suffering himself to be arrested, or yielding 
 himself to prison, to the intent of defrauding or hindering 
 any of his creditors, declares that the merchant or trader 
 who shall do such acts, shall be deemed and taken for a 
 bankrupt ; that is, from that moment is a bankrupt. The 
 second section gives the Lord Chancellor authority to ap- 
 point commissioners, and confers upon these commissioners 
 nearly the same powers, as were possessed by the court of 
 commissioners under the statute of Henry the Eighth. The 
 forfeitures for concealing the bankrupt's effects, or for col- 
 luding with him, are the same as in the former act ; and it 
 is provided, that if the bankrupt do not surrender himself to 
 the commissioners after five proclamations, upon five mar- 
 ket days, made in the town nearest the bankrupt's dwelling, 
 that he shall be out of the Queen's protection ; and all per- 
 sons assisting him in escaping or concealing himself, shall 
 suffer fine or imprisonment at the discretion of the Lord 
 Chancellor. And it is expressly declared, as in the former 
 act, that the creditor shall not be barred of any more of his 
 debt, than such part as shall be actually paid to him by the 
 commissioners ; and all property afterwards acquired by 
 the bankrupt, shall become immediately vested in the com- 
 missioners until his debts be fully satisfied. Of course, un- 
 der this statute, the creditor could take the body of the 
 debtor, while the commissioners seized his property ; a 
 striking proof that the discharge of the debtor formed no 
 part of the policy or design of the original bankrupt laws. 
 The enacting part of the eleventh section of this statute is 
 introduced with this remarkable expression, " That if any 
 
168 BANKRUPT LAWS. 
 
 person who is, or shall be punished and declared to be a 
 bankrupt by virtue of this act," &c., considering bankruptcy 
 throughout as a crime. 
 
 The next statute was passed in 1604, the first year of 
 James the First. The preamble sets forth, " that frauds and 
 deceits, as new diseases, daily increase amongst such as live 
 by buying and selling, to the hindrance of traffic and mutual 
 commerce, and to the general hurt of the realm, by such as 
 wickedly and wilfully become bankrupts." 
 
 The statute then declares more particularly who shall be 
 adjudged a bankrupt, but does not vary materially from the 
 description in the former statutes. It enacts, that all volun- 
 tary conveyances and gifts made by a bankrupt shall be 
 void. Under this section, which is a very important one in 
 principle, it has been decided, that when a man, who is not 
 a trader and not in debt, makes a settlement upon his wife 
 and children, and afterwards becomes a trader and a bank- 
 rupt, this settlement cannot be affected by the bankruptcy. 
 It has also been decided, that money, given by a father 
 who is a trader, to his son to set him up in business, cannot 
 be recovered back by the assignees of the father. This 
 decision seems to have been made upon a literal construc- 
 tion of the words of the statute ; which makes void all gifts 
 of lands, tenements, goods chattels, and debts ; but does not 
 mention money. [See 2 Maule and Selwyn, 36.] The 
 statute of the 13th of Elizabeth gave the commissioners 
 power to examine all persons who could give any material 
 information respecting the bankrupt's property ; this act 
 gives them power to compel the attendance of witnesses, 
 
BANKRUPT LAWS. 1(59 
 
 and provides for the punishment of perjury in any person 
 examined by the commissioners. And as doubts had arisen 
 whether the commissioners could collect debts due to the 
 bankrupt, this act authorizes them to appoint an assignee 
 who should collect them in his own name. It is provided, 
 however, that no debtor who should pay the bankrupt with- 
 out notice of the assignment, should be affected by it. 
 
 In 1623, the 21st of James the First, another act was 
 passed " for the further description of a bankrupt, and relief 
 of creditors," which sets forth more particularly who shall 
 be deemed a bankrupt, and what shall be considered acts of 
 bankruptcy. It declares that the bankrupt's wife may be 
 examined for the discovery of his effects, and gives authority 
 to the commissioners to break open his doors, if necessary. 
 And it makes goods in the possession of the bankrupt liable 
 to pay his debts ; on the principle, as it would seem, that he 
 who lends goods to a bankrupt to support his credit should 
 not be in a better situation than he who lends him money. 
 The statute limits the time for suing out a commission to 
 five years after the act of bankruptcy committed, and ex- 
 tends the benefit of the bankrupt laws to strangers as well 
 as native citizens. 
 
 A short statute was passed in 1662, the 13th of Charles 
 the Second, declaring that no person was a trader within 
 the meaning of the bankrupt act, for merely owning stock in 
 the East India or Guinea company. 
 
 Thus far it appears that no provision was made or in- 
 tended, in these several acts, for the relief of the debtor. 
 He was considered a criminal desirous of evading the pay- 
 
 22 
 
170 BANKRUPT LAWS. 
 
 ment of his just debts. And the only design of the Bank- 
 rupt Law was to wrest his property from him, and divide it 
 among those from whom, it was supposed, he unjustly with- 
 held it. 
 
 The subsequent alterations of the law will be considered 
 in a future paper. 
 
 Dec. 15, 1821. 
 
 No. II. 
 
 WE resume to-day the history of the English Bankrupt 
 Laws, which we commenced a fortnight ago. The subject 
 may not be very alluring ; but it is one of general impor- 
 tance. For the practical operation of a system of laws 
 cannot be better understood, than by attending to the suc- 
 cessive alterations and amendments that experience has 
 proved necessary to be made in them. If a bankrupt law 
 should be passed in Congress, and it appears certain that 
 one will, at some time, be enacted, it will be convenient to 
 examine continually the English statutes upon the same 
 subject, to observe in what manner their intention has been 
 fulfilled, or evaded. It is no small advantage to us, to have 
 upon this occasion the experience of an intelligent and 
 commercial nation, for nearly two hundred and eighty- 
 years. 
 
 The Bankrupt Law, we have seen, continued unaltered in 
 principle from the year 1623 (the 21st of James the First) to 
 the 4th of Anne, 1705. But it was found, from the experi- 
 
BANKRUPT LAWS. 171 
 
 ence of nearly a century, that the bankrupt could not easily 
 be induced to surrender his property to his creditors, for 
 whose benefit alone the several statutes had hitherto been 
 passed. It was therefore enacted in the 4th year of Queen 
 Anne, that if any person should become a bankrupt after the 
 24th of June, 1706, notice that a commission of bankruptcy 
 had issued against him should be left at his usual place of 
 abode, and also be published in the Gazette ; and if such 
 person should not, within thirty days after such notice, sur- 
 render himself to the commissioners, and submit to be ex- 
 amined upon oath by them whenever they should require it, 
 and disclose all his goods, effects, papers, accounts, and 
 writings, which he had had at any time before or after the 
 issuing of the commission, and also surrender up the same 
 to the commissioners, so far as they were in his possession 
 or under his control, such bankrupt, upon conviction there- 
 of, should suffer death as a felon. The Lord Chancellor 
 might, however, in special cases, enlarge the time of surren- 
 der as he should think fit, not exceeding sixty days. The 
 commissioners were empowered to commit to prison any 
 person who should refuse to appear before them, and testify 
 concerning any acts of bankruptcy of the debtor. Although 
 the bankrupt did not become a felon if he submitted himself 
 within thirty days, yet immediately upon proof before the 
 commissioners of his having committed an act of bankrupt- 
 cy, they might certify that fact, and require any judge or 
 justice of the peace to issue a warrant for his apprehen- 
 sion ; upon which he might be arrested and committed to 
 any gaol, until he should surrender himself and his property 
 to the commissioners. 
 
172 BANKRUPT LAWS. 
 
 After these severe enactments for the benefit of the cred- 
 itor, it gives some relief to find a provision in favor of the 
 unhappy debtor. As a reward for complying with the di- 
 rections of the statute, it gave to the honest bankrupt five 
 per cent, out of the neat proceeds of his estate, providing 
 that it should not exceed in the whole two hundred pounds ; 
 and it discharged the bankrupt from all debts due at the 
 time of suing out the commission. Thus it appears that the 
 Bankrupt Laws existed one hundred and sixty-three years, 
 before any thing was done for the relief of the debtor. 
 
 This statute introduced many salutary regulations, most of 
 which have been incorporated in subsequent acts. It pro- 
 vided, that when the bankrupt's estate did not produce eight 
 shillings in the pound, his allowance should be only such as 
 the commissioners chose to give. And it deprived any 
 bankrupt of the benefit of a certificate, who should have lost 
 in gaming five pounds at any one time, or one hundred 
 pounds in twelve months. The act was to continue in 
 force only three years. 
 
 The next year, 1706, an act was passed to explain and 
 amend this act, and to prevent frauds frequently committed 
 by bankrupts. The statute of the preceding year had 
 made it felony without benefit of clergy, for the bankrupt to 
 conceal any part of his property ; this statute made it a 
 capital crime, only when the concealment was to the amount 
 of twenty pounds and upward. And it rendered void all 
 securities given by a bankrupt to his debtor to induce him to 
 sign his certificate. In this act, provision was made, for the 
 first time, for the choice of assignees by the creditors ; " to 
 
BANKRUPT LAWS. 173 
 
 whom alone the commissioners should assign the bankrupt's 
 estate and effects." And to prevent the taking out of com- 
 missions fraudulently or maliciously, it was provided that no 
 commission should issue, unless upon the petition of one 
 creditor to the amount of one hundred pounds, or of two to 
 the amount of one hundred and fifty pounds. 
 
 Another explanatory act was passed in the 10th of Anne 
 (1711), which contained but one section of any importance 
 at present. That section declared that a discharge of a 
 bankrupt should not operate as a discharge of his solvent 
 partner. 
 
 In the 5th year of George the First (1718) all the pre- 
 ceding acts were incorporated into one statute, which at the 
 same time introduced several new regulations. The peti- 
 tioning creditor was required to give bond to the Lord 
 Chancellor that he would prove his debt, and prove the 
 party a bankrupt ; and in case a commission was fraudu- 
 lently taken out, the Lord Chancellor might order satisfac- 
 tion, and assign the bond to the party aggrieved. No cred- 
 itor whose debt did not amount to ten pounds, was permit- 
 ted to vote for an assignee ; and the Lord Chancellor, upon 
 petition of the creditors, might discharge the assignees and 
 cause a new assignment to be made. And in case the pe- 
 titioning creditors by agreement with the bankrupt, or other- 
 wise, received from him more than the other creditors, the 
 commission should be superseded, and a new one granted. 
 It was also declared that the commissioners should not be 
 capable of acting till they had taken an oath to discharge 
 their duty faithfully. 
 
174 BANKRUPT LAWS. 
 
 In all these statutes it will appear that no provision was 
 made for the case of a debt not due at the time of the bank- 
 ruptcy. It had been decided by the courts that such debts 
 could not be proved under the commission, but no remedy 
 was given till 1721, the 7th of George the First. It was 
 then enacted that such debts should be proved before the 
 commissioners and allowed, discounting the interest to the 
 time of payment. 
 
 The statute of the 5th of George the First having ex- 
 pired, a new act was passed in the 5th year of George the 
 Second (1732), which reenacted the most important pro- 
 visions of the preceding statutes with many additions. It 
 enlarged the power of the commissioners to examine the 
 bankrupt, or any other person, " touching all matters relat- 
 ing to the person, trade, dealings, estate, and effects of every 
 bankrupt." It required the petitioning creditor to swear to 
 his debt, as well as to give bond. In case of mutual deal- 
 ings between the bankrupt and the creditors, the commis- 
 sioners were authorized to state an account between them, 
 and set off one debt against another. It empowered the 
 commissioners to appoint a provisional assignee, until a 
 meeting of the creditors could be called ; and it prescribed, 
 for the first time, the mode of making dividends, the very 
 end and object of the bankrupt laws. And that the pro- 
 ceedings before the commissioners might not be lost, they 
 were, upon petition of any of the creditors, to be entered 
 of record, in chancery. 
 
 It will be remembered, that the act of the 13th of Eliz- 
 abeth gave to the commissioners power to dispose of all the 
 
BANKRUPT LAWS. 175 
 
 property the debtor had at the time when he became a 
 bankrupt; and therefore made him completely incapable 
 of disposing of any of his property from the moment of 
 committing an act of bankruptcy. For the relief of inno- 
 cent creditors, who had been adjudged liable to refund to 
 the assignees, it was enacted in the 19th of George the 
 Second (1746), that monies received in the ordinary course 
 of trade, from a person who had committed an act of bank- 
 ruptcy which was unknown by the receiver, should not be 
 refunded, even if a commission of bankruptcy were after- 
 wards taken out. 
 
 Dec. 29, 1821. 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 23 
 
LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 THE SUBJECT OF SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 Portsmouth, October 8, 1822. 
 
 DEAR , 
 
 YOUR letter is upon so interesting a subject, that, 
 though I have not much leisure at present, I hasten to give 
 you as full an answer as I am able. I will first give you an 
 account of one Parish School, which I think has been 
 successful in an unusual degree, and then state some ob- 
 jections to your plan. 
 
 The South Parish School in this town was established in 
 April, 1818. A meeting was called of those persons who 
 were disposed to favor such an institution. Some half a 
 dozen attended, and formed themselves into a society for 
 the support of the school, and opened a subscription to de- 
 fray the expenses. Three superintendents werf then cho- 
 sen by them, to whom the selection of teachers was confid- 
 ed. Notice was given, from the pulpit, of the day on 
 which the school would be opened ; and the children were 
 requested to present themselves on the Saturday previous. 
 
180 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 The superintendents received them as they came, exam- 
 ined them separately in reading, heard them repeat a 
 prayer (if they knew any), questioned them familiarly on 
 the doctrines and duties of Christianity, and endeavoured 
 to form some opinion of the amount of their religious knowl- 
 edge. A book was then prepared, in which their names, 
 ages, and places of residence, with the names and occupa- 
 tions of their parents, masters, or guardians were entered in 
 parallel columns. They were then classed by tens, accord- 
 ing to their apparent capacities and degrees of improve- 
 ment, the boys and girls being arranged separately. The 
 requisite number of teachers was then engaged, and every- 
 thing prepared for the ensuing day. 
 
 Such was the commencement of our school. We began 
 with about fifty children, and adopted the general regula- 
 tions, of which I send you a copy. We have from time to 
 time made a few alterations, which I have marked with a 
 pen. Our school, at present, contains one hundred and 
 two girls, and eighty-three boys. The average attendance 
 through the summer has been, sixty-seven girls and sixty- 
 two boys. They are divided into thirty-one classes, under 
 the care of seventeen ladies and twelve gentlemen, besides 
 the superintendents ; two of whom have the care of classes, 
 besides their other duties. 
 
 The children and teachers assemble in the school-room, 
 at the ringing of the first bell in the morning. The super- 
 intendents are usually there about twenty minutes sooner to 
 prepare the room and receive the children. In ten minutes 
 the school is opened. One of the superintendents reads a 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 181 
 
 short passage from the scriptures, and offers a prayer in 
 plain and simple language, such as the children may under- 
 stand. After this, each child repeats to his teacher the 
 verse referred to on his ticket, receives the next number of 
 his ticket, and the regular instruction then begins. These 
 tickets are numbered from one to twenty-six, and are de- 
 signed to produce punctuality in attendance. At the begin- 
 ning of a quarter, each child, who is in his seat at the com- 
 mencement of the religious exercises for the day, receives 
 No. 1, or, if not present then, the first time he does at- 
 tend he receives No. 1, and the next time he attends he 
 repeats the verse referred to on the ticket, surrenders it, 
 and receives No. 2, and so the other numbers in se- 
 quence. If not in his seat, at the opening of the school, he 
 forfeits his ticket for that time unless he has a good ex- 
 cuse for his tardiness. If absent (from whatever cause), he 
 of course receives no ticket. Twenty-six lessons, equal to 
 two lessons a day for thirteen weeks, constitute a quarter. 
 The tickets therefore are not numbered beyond twenty-six. 
 The instruction continues in the school till the bell tolls a 
 second time, when the school is dismissed, each class 
 going out together, in order, the girls first, and then the 
 boys ; and it is the duty of the several teachers to see that 
 their respective children attend meeting. Seats are provid- 
 ed in the galleries for such children as have no other seats, 
 the girls and boys on opposite sides of the meetinghouse ; 
 and one of the teachers (in rotation) sits with them respec- 
 tively. There are usually about fifteen boys and twenty 
 girls, who would not attend meeting at all without this ar- 
 rangement ; but who now attend punctually. 
 
182 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 In the afternoon the children pass directly from the 
 meetinghouse to the school-room. There is no formal 
 opening of the school, but the children surrender their tick- 
 ets, and repeat their verses, as they come in. After about 
 an hour usually longer the school is closed by a prayer 
 by one of the superintendents, and the children are dismiss- 
 ed. 
 
 Each teacher is provided with a set of tickets, according 
 to the size of his class, filed regularly and kept in a little 
 box which is marked with his name. These boxes are 
 kept in the desk at school, and are distributed by the super- 
 intendents to the teachers, as they come in, in the morning. 
 This prevents any forgetfulness or confusion. The teach- 
 ers are also provided with a class-paper, prepared by the 
 superintendents, containing the names of the several chil- 
 dren belonging to that class, with blank spaces to mark 
 their attendance. They are also furnished with blank 
 memorandum-books and pencils, to keep an account from 
 day to day of the behaviour and improvement of their sev- 
 eral children. These operate as a check upon the tickets 
 to prevent any child from getting by fraud a higher number 
 than he is entitled to. 
 
 On the last week of every quarter, the superintendents 
 and teachers meet together, usually at the house of Mr. P , 
 in the evening. After a prayer by Mr. P , for he al- 
 ways meets with us on such occasions, we converse familiar- 
 ly on the state of the school. The teachers surrender their 
 several class-papers, and make a report of the behaviour, 
 improvement, and general condition of every scholar. One 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 183 
 
 of the superintendents takes notes in writing of every thing 
 material that is communicated, and files the class-papers 
 surrendered, and the reports made. At the close of the 
 evening, a hymn is sung, and we separate. It is generally 
 a very happy evening. 
 
 After this meeting the superintendents prepare an accu- 
 rate list of all the children in the school, ranging them un- 
 der their several classes, marking against each name the 
 number of tickets received, and adding such accounts of 
 the behaviour of the children, as have been received at the 
 teachers' meeting. For example ; 
 
 " Class No. 1. Boys. Mr. A. L. teacher. 
 I. C. - - - 26 
 G. H. - - 26. &c. 
 
 " This class has distinguished itself through the quarter, 
 for punctual attendance, and good behaviour at school and 
 in meeting. The teacher reports I. M. to have made the 
 greatest comparative improvement. W. S. has been de- 
 tained by sickness," &c. 
 
 On the first Sunday of the new quarter, this list is read 
 from the desk, by one of the superintendents. The room 
 is generally crowded by the parents and friends of the chil- 
 dren, on this occasion. After reading through the list, a 
 small book, with a printed label, is given to each child who 
 has been punctual during the last quarter. Every one who 
 has obtained twenty tickets, is for this purpose deemed 
 punctual. Those who have excelled, in each class, receive 
 a book of more value, or a certificate of good behaviour, 
 &c. at the discretion of the superintendents. If a child has 
 
184 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 not behaved well, the superintendent pronounces, as follows ; 
 " A. B. 26 tickets, is entitled to a reward for punctual at- 
 tendance ; but has forfeited that reward, by misbehaviour at 
 meeting, disobedience, profaneness," &c. as the case may 
 be. We have never shrunk from these censures ; but the 
 efficacy of the system is established by the striking fact that, 
 during the last year, only three such censures have been 
 necessary among one hundred and eighty-five children. 
 One was given for playing at meeting, one for idleness and 
 insubordination at school, and one for repeated carelessness 
 in losing books. 
 
 These little rewards are made up into small bundles for 
 each class, and directed to the several teachers ; and after 
 the reading of the list, as above mentioned, the superin- 
 tendents deliver them to the several teachers, and the 
 teachers distribute them among the children. It is a day of 
 great excitement to them all. After the delivery of these 
 rewards, Mr. P makes an affectionate and familiar ad- 
 dress to the children, in which he dwells upon such partic- 
 ulars as his previous attendance at the teachers' meeting 
 has made him acquainted with. After praying with them, 
 he dismisses them with his good wishes and blessing. 
 This is the only occasion on which his attendance at the 
 school is required. 
 
 At the expiration of the year, the superintendents make a 
 full report of the general state and condition of the school 
 (without mentioning names) to the society which supports 
 the school ; and on the next Sunday, this report is read to 
 the congregation, after sermon, with such remarks in addi- 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 185 
 
 lion as Mr. P thinks most expedient. This contrib- 
 utes to keep up a sense of the importance of the school, 
 both in the teachers and in the parents of the children, as 
 well as in the children themselves. 
 
 With regard to our mode of instruction, the grand prin- 
 ciple is, that religious instruction, to be effectual, must be 
 adapted to the actual state of the child's mind ; it must, 
 therefore, necessarily, be by familiar conversation. The 
 getting of lessons is of very little consequence, except as it 
 affords an opportunity for asking and answering familiar 
 questions. The course of instruction, therefore, and the 
 books used, are very different in different classes, and are 
 constantly varying in the same class. This whole business 
 is left to the teachers, who best know the wants and capaci- 
 ties of those under their care, with this only restriction, that 
 no new book shall be introduced without the knowledge 
 and approbation of the superintendents. 
 
 As the general rule, however, for new scholars and new 
 classes (till circumstances require a change) we recommend 
 the following course ; 1. Short prayers to be committed to 
 memory. 2. Watts's short Catechism and the Command- 
 ments. 3. Watts's Historical Catechism. 4. Cummings's 
 " Questions." 5. Lessons from Scripture at the discretion 
 of the teacher. We discourage lessons memoriter, except 
 among the smaller classes. These are allowed to commit 
 to memory " Hymns for Infant Minds " and select hymns 
 from Belknap. 
 
 The class which I have at present, I took somewhat 
 more than a year ago. It consists of boys from eleven to 
 
 24 
 
186 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 thirteen years old, and is one of the oldest and most ad- 
 vanced in school. They had learned about half of Cum- 
 mings's " Questions," when they passed under my care. I car- 
 ried them through that book twice ; then through Porteus's 
 "Evidences"; then Paley's "Natural Theology"; and they 
 are now beginning Watts's "Improvement of the Mind." 
 They have, at the same time, passed through " The Acts " 
 in course, in the following manner : I gave every Sunday a 
 lesson of about twenty verses ; from these they were requir- 
 ed to frame as many questions as they could imagine, and 
 bring them to me, in writing, on the next Sunday. We then 
 compared their several questions together, and talked about 
 them, and answered them. This has brought into use all 
 the knowledge I possess, and required a great deal more. 
 One of my boys brought to me one hundred and fifty ques- 
 tions, and another ninety-six from the first chapter of " The 
 Acts." Read it, and you may judge of their industry, as 
 well as their ingenuity. I am now, at their repeated re- 
 quest, to begin an examination of the doctrines of Christiani- 
 ty. I have not yet settled my plan ; but I foresee it will 
 cause me some labor. Porteus's " Evidences " I found was 
 not an interesting book to them. It became necessary to 
 prepare a sort of commentary of historical facts, to fix their 
 attention upon it, and on the whole it did not succeed 
 well. But Paley's " Theology " was a delightful book ; it 
 arrested and fixed their attention beyond hope. 
 
 You will perceive from this account, that almost every 
 thing depends upon the teachers ; and I take pleasure in 
 telling you, that from our experience the teachers can be 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 187 
 
 depended upon, for almost every thing. Some of those 
 connected with our school have the children at their houses 
 to explain and illustrate more at large than they can do at 
 school. And the children are not only willing to attend at 
 such times, but are pleased with it. Instruction has been 
 made interesting, and they are willing to go out of the way 
 to get it. We have at present, among our teachers, three 
 who have received the greater part of their religious instruc- 
 tion at the school ; and they conduct themselves admirably 
 well in their new capacity. They were first employed as 
 assistant teachers, and then a small class was committed to 
 them severally. We hold out a similar promotion to the 
 expectation of the older children ; and occasionally try 
 them with the younger classes, and with a very good effect. 
 After this history of our experience, you will be prepared 
 to hear my objections to your plan. 
 
 I. The children should not be collected by the clergy- 
 men ; they will not have half the success of laymen. It is 
 their profession to talk of the importance of religious in- 
 struction, and in their visits to irreligious families, such con- 
 versation passes as words of course. But send a lawyer or 
 a merchant, and the very novelty of the thing excites atten- 
 tion. Besides, the influence of the minister should be re- 
 served for greater occasions. 
 
 II. A division of classes, according to age, is impossible. 
 We have sometimes put together children of five years and 
 of eleven years ; and that because they required precisely 
 the same kind and degree of instruction. An intelligent 
 child of a religious family will know as much of religious 
 
188 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 truth and will be capable of understanding religious truths, 
 at six years old, as the unsettled children about the streets 
 know or can understand at thirteen years. I had a boy at 
 school two years ago and a very smart boy too who, at 
 ten years old, was with difficulty made to comprehend what 
 was meant by God. You might as well arrange them ac- 
 cording to the color of their hair, as according to [their 
 ages. 
 
 III. Ten children are too many for a class. We tried it, 
 and found it would not do. Six is the highest number ad- 
 visable, and a smaller number if you could get teachers. 
 In a class of six, for an hour, you have but ten minutes 
 each ; and how small a time that is, to overcome a child's 
 diffidence, and to get him sufficiently engaged in his lessons 
 to ask questions freely. 
 
 IV. Your schools will be good for nothing, if you discon- 
 tinue them at the end of eight months, or at any time. On 
 this point, I speak earnestly and decisively. You will lose 
 more in the habits of your children, in the four months 
 your school is discontinued, than you will gain in the suc- 
 ceeding eight. There is no one thing I would press upon 
 you so strongly. If your schools are discontinued in the 
 winter, I should regard that one circumstance as decisive of 
 their fate. Your object is to form religious habits ; and 
 just as your children have become accustomed to the re- 
 straints of the school ; just as you have taught them to be- 
 gin to think and feel for themselves ; just as you have 
 become, in some measure, acquainted with their characters, 
 and know how to talk to them ; just as you have persuaded 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 189 
 
 them, by kindness and attention, to regard you as their 
 friends, and to express their doubts and ignorance to you 
 without hesitation, you send them away from you, and 
 have the same ground to go over again. The mischiefs of 
 such a course, to the children, to the teachers, and to the 
 general character of the school, are innumerable. If our 
 school has been attended with more than usual success, it is 
 to be ascribed principally to this cause, that it has been car- 
 ried on steadily, permanently, without rest or intermission. 
 No child has been sent from the school with the impres- 
 sion that he is now good enough or wise enough, and may 
 rest from his labors for three or four months. No teacher 
 has been permitted to say, " This is a good opportunity to 
 withdraw from the school ; I have served my turn, let some- 
 body else take it now." The children have not been suf- 
 fered to think, that religion was a periodical thing, fit for 
 bright suns and warm days, but not of sufficient importance 
 to bring them out in the face of a northwest wind or a 
 snow-storm. You inculcate upon them the duty of attend- 
 ing public worship ; how can you do this with any hope of 
 success, when you let them know, that a little bad weather 
 in winter keeps you at home from school ? I am glad that 
 I am able to enforce my opinion by experience. * * * * 
 Our parish embraces a very scattered population, and many 
 of the children live at a considerable distance from the 
 school ; yet, during the whole of last winter, the average 
 number that attended, was one hundred and one ; many 
 days, when the weather was not stormy, one hundred and 
 thirty-five. 
 
190 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 A very inadequate opinion prevails, of the nature of the 
 instruction to be given at Sunday schools. If it be only the 
 asking a certain number of prescribed questions, and re- 
 ceiving a certain number of prescribed answers, if it be 
 only catechising, you may spare yourself any further pains. 
 You have only to turn over the whole school to the town 
 crier, and let them be taught to recite by platoons. But if 
 you desire to awaken their faculties, to watch the first glim- 
 merings of piety, to feed the flame without extinguishing it, 
 you must study the character and habits of the child ; you 
 must adapt your mind to his, and your language to his, and 
 by a very constant course of cross-examination, be certain 
 that you are rightly understood, and that you have made 
 the impression you intended to make. And for all this, 
 what are fifty-two days in a year ! You will pardon me 
 for expressing myself so strongly ; but I feel that the very 
 existence of your schools depends upon the correction of 
 this error. 
 
 V. A report from the teachers every month is too often. 
 They will have nothing to say ; and having nothing to say, 
 they will soon neglect it. Besides, this monthly report is 
 to be followed by no consequences. In our school, the 
 quarterly report is followed by an immediate distribution of 
 rewards in conformity to it ; and therefore becomes impor- 
 tant. 
 
 VI. I think the minister should not attend the school. 
 Religious instruction from him, or in his presence, is too 
 much a thing of course. Besides, if your teachers are to 
 talk with the children (and their instruction is worth noth- 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 191 
 
 ing, if they do not), many of them will be embarrassed by 
 the presence of their minister. They will be afraid to talk 
 freely, lest he should hear them. Besides, there may be 
 important occasions, when the clergyman may be called in 
 with powerful effect, and his presence should not be made 
 too common. I say nothing of the great labor which your 
 plan would impose upon the minister on the Sabbath, when 
 he can ill afford the time or strength. 
 
 VII. In addition to your meetings of the superintendents, 
 you should have an occasional meeting of the teachers of 
 the same school. We could not dispense with ours. Be- 
 sides making them acquainted with each other, and increas- 
 ing their zeal by social excitement, they can, at such meet- 
 ings, better arrange their classes, make mutual exchanges, 
 and find the proper situation for any child whose situation 
 or character is unusual. 
 
 VIII. I am pleased with the subject and designs of your 
 tracts ; but for reasons already given, think they ought not 
 to be published for any particular age or class. 
 
 IX. Your scheme for the instruction of the higher class, 
 I would extend to every class. My plan would be, that 
 the children should attend school, as long as their situation 
 permitted, or until they grew up to be teachers themselves 5 
 and that the teachers, by attending without intermission 
 (none of your winter-holidays !), should acquire a love for 
 the employment, and grow up into judicious and well in- 
 formed, if not learned theological instructers. The books, 
 of whatever kind, that are used, should be regarded more 
 as a text-book for the teacher, than as a manual for the 
 scholar. 
 
192 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 Children do not become pious, by getting lessons of pie- 
 ty. As the teachers can certainly learn as fast as the chil- 
 dren, I can see no reason why they should not carry the 
 same class onward to an indefinite progress. It should be 
 impressed upon them, that it is a school for themselves, as 
 well as for the children ; that " he who watereth shall be 
 watered himself." 
 
 One word more about the expense of our plan, no un- 
 important object in a general system. The rewards we 
 distribute do not average more than four or five dollars a 
 quarter for one hundred and eighty-five children ; and the 
 whole expense of the school has been about forty dollars 
 a year. This includes the purchase of testaments, hymn- 
 books, catechisms, and books of all kinds, as well as print- 
 ing and stationary. If we were now to begin, we could re- 
 duce even this small expense by spending the money more 
 judiciously. 
 
 I am satisfied you do not want an apology from me, for 
 answering your letter so much at length, and so freely. I 
 know it is your single object to do good ; and it is mine to 
 assist you in it, if possible. Let me know if you receive 
 this safely, and how my objections strike you ; for I wish to 
 receive light as well as give it. 
 
 Affectionately yours. 
 
AN ADDRESS 
 
 DELIVERED BEFORE THE TEACHERS OF THE SOUTH PARISH 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL ; APRIL, 1823. 
 
 IN compliance with your request, I appear before you, 
 this evening, to recall your attention to the important duties, 
 in which you are engaged. I come not to offer advice, or 
 to prescribe a course for your direction ; but as one of your 
 own number, to collect the results of your past experience, 
 and to bring together a few plain principles, upon which 
 you have hitherto acted, and to which, much of your suc- 
 cess may justly be ascribed. I come to impress my own 
 mind, as well as yours, with a sense of the importance of 
 our employment ; and to kindle some new zeal, awaken 
 some new energy, by bringing to view the mighty effects 
 which may result from successful perseverance. We are 
 fellow-laborers in the cause of human improvement ; and 
 whatever may be the result of our efforts, we are at least 
 engaged in a cause of the highest dignity, and the deepest 
 interest. 
 
 To understand clearly the nature of our duties, nothing 
 more is necessary than to place distinctly before us the ob- 
 
 25 
 
194 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 ject to be attained. And what is that object ? Is it not to 
 lay the foundation of a religious character ? Is it not to 
 teach children to consider God as the supreme good, to 
 look to his favor as the only source of pure happiness, to 
 regard him as their best friend, and to rejoice in the contin- 
 ual proofs of his love ? But God is invisible, and children 
 are engrossed with the perceptions of their senses : God 
 dwells in the heavens, and is, to their apprehensions, a Be- 
 ing afar off, while they are attached only to present objects. 
 They soon forget their parents and friends, when absent 
 only a few weeks or months, and how can they have God 
 in all their thoughts ? God is a being of infinite power and 
 majesty ; they hear his voice in the thunder, and they are 
 compelled to feel his presence in the violence of the storm ; 
 and how can they love him, whose image brings only terror 
 and dismay ? These considerations, show our difficulties, 
 as well as our duties. 
 
 In commencing the religious education of a child, our 
 first object should be to awaken his attention ; till this be 
 effected, all other labors are useless. The ground must 
 be prepared the soil must be stirred up and loosened be- 
 fore the seed can be cast in, with any hope of vegetation. 
 While the mind of a child is sluggish and inert while his 
 thoughts are roving and unfixed we can do nothing, we 
 can say nothing that will make any permanent impression. 
 And here lies the grand difficulty of our employment, as we 
 have all experienced. How then is the mind of a child to 
 be excited ? What instruments within our reach are of suf- 
 ficient force to break the clod and lay it open to the sun ? 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 195 
 
 An attentive observation of the habits of children in the in- 
 tercourse of common life will probably suggest an answer. 
 Children are always engaged with the pursuits and occupa- 
 tions of men. They delight to watch their parents in their 
 daily employments, and to imitate their labors. One great 
 cause of the repugnance which children generally feel to 
 schools and learning, is, that schools and learning are for 
 children only. Men and women are engaged in active em- 
 ployments ; and while children are at school, a broad line 
 of distinction is drawn between them and the rest of the 
 community. Hence, they are impatient of instruction. 
 They long to pass over the line, and to mingle in the cares 
 and pursuits that engage the attention of those who are 
 above them. This principle of imitation we may turn to 
 good account. We must be in earnest ourselves. The 
 pursuit of religious knowledge, and the acquisition of relig- 
 ious habits must be a part of our daily employments. We 
 must strive and labor, if we would prompt them to exer- 
 tion. If, in all that we say and do, we show a deep con- 
 viction of the importance of religion, they will gradually 
 learn to think it important. But our religion must not be a 
 languid repetition of serious thoughts and solemn phrases. 
 Children judge more from the eye and the tone of voice, 
 than from the words. If we do not feel ourselves, we can 
 never make them feel. 
 
 But happily for us, the principle of imitation is not the 
 only one to which we can resort for this important purpose. 
 Children are naturally eager for knowledge. This is ap- 
 parent from their inquisitive habits and their restless curiosi- 
 
196 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 ly. When they turn with disgust from their books, it is not 
 knowledge that they dislike, but the form under which it is 
 presented. They dislike the labor of acquiring it. A 
 book brings with it no excitement ; and they have not yet 
 acquired the power of voluntary attention. Curiosity then 
 is a powerful instrument in our hands. And is there noth- 
 ing we can communicate of God and his moral government ; 
 of mankind, their past history and present condition ; of 
 the human soul, its nature, powers, and capacities, its origin 
 and destination ; of that unseen world to which we are 
 hastening ; of the spirits of " the just made perfect " who 
 surround the throne of God, and of those angelic beings 
 who are sent forth to minister to the heirs of salvation ; is 
 there nothing in all this, which we can convey in simple lan- 
 guage, and adapt to the capacity of children ? And is 
 there nothing, in all this, to excite wonder, and delight, and 
 admiration ? Surely, with the Bible in our hands, we can 
 be at no loss for subjects of conversation, that shall at once 
 allure and stimulate the minds of children. And this is the 
 first object ; for we must develope their faculties, before 
 we can impress their hearts. We must talk to them ; ex- 
 cite them ; encourage them to talk in return ; lead them to 
 spread open their minds before us, and state all their diffi- 
 culties, and doubts, and indistinct apprehensions. Much 
 labor is thrown away in the business of instruction, for want 
 of knowledge of the precise state of the pupil's mind. 
 Many an anxious hour has been spent, and many a lesson 
 given in vain, because the child has misunderstood a single 
 word or phrase of the teacher, or has previously acquired 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 197 
 
 some unfortunate prejudice, inconsistent with the instruction 
 we are endeavouring to give. The mind of a child is not 
 passive. We cannot pour in knowledge and leave it there 
 without further trouble. If .we do not excite it to action 
 and lead it to labor with us, it will certainly oppose us. 
 But this latent obstacle we cannot discover, without a very 
 familiar intercourse, or a careful cross-examination. The 
 instruction we give must be put in a variety of forms, and 
 the child encouraged to return it to us in his own language, 
 that we may be certain of having made the impression we 
 intended to make. 
 
 But, for this purpose, another object must be effected. 
 We must win the affection of the child ; we must acquire 
 his confidence. Instruction must come with the smile of 
 friendship, not the sternness of authority. I do not mean 
 that decorum and dignity should not be preserved ; that or- 
 der should not be enforced ; that improper familiarities 
 should not be repressed ; for all this is consistent with the 
 most perfect confidence and love : but the child should feel 
 that he is under the control of a friend ; he should be per- 
 suaded that you take an interest in his welfare ; that you are 
 anxious for his improvement ; that you are affectionately, 
 and zealously, and perseveringly laboring for his benefit. 
 As soon as you have produced this conviction, your point is 
 gained. Children are naturally open and confiding ; and 
 they will scarcely attempt to conceal their thoughts and 
 emotions from those whom they thus know to be their 
 friends. 
 
198 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 If you have been so happy as to succeed thus far ; if 
 you have excited the attention and gained the confidence of 
 your pupil, the way is prepared for direct religious instruc- 
 tion. I do not mean that no religious instruction should be 
 given, till you are certain that the mind is awakened, and 
 the affections won : but I mean that no direct religious in- 
 struction can be given with much hope of success, till these 
 objects are effected ; and therefore, that all our exertions 
 should at first be directed to the attainment of these ob- 
 jects. 
 
 The essential principles of Christianity are few, plain, and 
 simple. It was the peculiar blessing of the poor, in the 
 time of our Saviour, that to them the Gospel was preached. 
 It therefore contained nothing beyond their apprehension. 
 They were not perplexed with metaphysical subtilties, and 
 nice distinctions, and elaborate creeds. They were taught 
 their duties in plain precepts or engaging parables ; and the 
 sanctions of religion, the rewards and punishments annexed 
 to the performance or neglect of their duties, were placed 
 before them, under striking figures indeed, but in a manner 
 too plain to be misunderstood. The Bible nowhere con- 
 tains a system of faith, or of duties. No one of the inspired 
 writers has taken occasion to draw up a creed, or present a 
 summary of Christian truth. Our Saviour and his apostles 
 gave their instructions, adapted always to the circumstan- 
 ces, and character, and even the local situation of those 
 whom they addressed. They constantly took advantage of 
 present objects, and passing events, to associate religious 
 truth with the common affairs of life. It was the fowls of 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 199 
 
 the air, and die lilies of the field, that were to inspire confi- 
 dence in God ; it was the well of Samaria, under a sultry 
 sky, that suggested the Fountain of living waters, " of 
 which whosoever drinketh shall never thirst ; " it was the 
 Isthmian games, that were to teach the Corinthians the val- 
 ue of persevering energy. Moral truth, that is thus associ- 
 ated with natural objects or with human actions of frequent 
 recurrence, is rarely forgotten. It becomes a subject of 
 daily thought, and is wrought into the very texture of the 
 mind. It should therefore be our aim, in the instruction we 
 give to children, to imitate our own great Instructor. We 
 should teach them, as he has taught us. 
 
 It is our object to lay the foundation of a religious char- 
 acter ; and the great command of religion is to love God ; 
 and the grand motive for the performance of this duty is, 
 that God hath loved us. We are rational beings, and can- 
 not act without an adequate motive. We cannot love God, 
 unless he is presented to our minds under a character de- 
 serving of love. Nay, more, we cannot love God with all 
 our hearts, unless his image is presented to our minds in 
 connexion with ourselves. We must feel that he is our 
 God ; that we have an interest in his favor ; that he is good 
 to us. This principle should never be forgotten in our in- 
 structions. When we teach a child to repeat " Thou shalt 
 love the Lord, thy God, with all thy heart," can we give 
 him no reason for this command ? Will no argument be 
 suggested by what meets our eye, or strikes our ear ? Is 
 there nothing in the soft and refreshing green spread over 
 the earth, on which the eye reposes with so much delight ; 
 
200 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 is there nothing in the clear blue sky, which almost bewil- 
 ders the fancy, and leads us on through trackless space al- 
 most to the throne of God ; is there nothing in the sounds 
 which at this season are heard from every bush and tree, 
 and which almost thrill the heart with vernal delight ; is 
 there nothing in the fragrance which is wafted to us in ev- 
 ery breeze, and which brings with it life, and health, and 
 joy ; is there nothing in all this to prove that God is good ? 
 and cannot a child be made to apprehend, that it is God 
 who is giving him these delights ? When his cheek glows 
 and his breast pants with healthful exertion, cannot he be 
 taught that it is God, who is supporting his life ; that it is 
 God, who is giving his lungs their play, and directing his 
 blood through his veins ? When he takes an honest pleas- 
 ure in the exertion of his faculties, and in exhibiting to you 
 his intellectual improvement, is it not the time to show him 
 that his memory, and judgment, and imagination are all the 
 gifts of God ? that it is his " inspiration that giveth us un- 
 derstanding ?" I would have it every hour and every 
 moment brought to the mind of a child, that God is every 
 where, and God is good. 
 
 I am sensible, that in order to produce this effect, even 
 in a small degree, the ordinary mode of instruction in 
 schools must be departed from. It is of very little conse- 
 quence to give lessons to children in religious books, if 
 pains are not taken to impress those lessons on the heart. 
 There is no magic in the words of the Bible. A man is 
 not religious, merely because he reads the Bible, or is able 
 to repeat any part of it. The whole of it may be commit- 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 201 
 
 ted to memory, from beginning to end, and yet not one evil 
 propensity be checked, or one devotional feeling excited. 
 And this for the plain reason, that it may be committed to 
 memory without being understood. One simple truth 
 strongly fixed in the mind, and dwelt upon, and returned to, 
 and associated with external objects, is of more efficacy in 
 religious education, than thousands of chapters, and hymns, 
 and catechisms, and creeds, committed to memory and re- 
 cited by rote. With us, therefore, familiar conversation 
 must be the great means of religious instruction. And to 
 give it its full efficacy, this conversation must not assume 
 the form of catechism ; it must not be a dry rehearsal of 
 religious truths. It must spring naturally from your cir- 
 cumstances and pursuits. You must give it a wide range. 
 No matter whether it commence with a religious topic or 
 not. If you have fixed in your own minds the principle 
 you wish to inculcate, you can gradually direct your pupil 
 to that point, and when you have reached it, you will find 
 his mind prepared for your instructions. A single instance 
 of success, in this way, is worth a month of ordinary labor. 
 You will riot understand me, as intending to undervalue the 
 ordinary employments of the school. Lessons are given, 
 in order to ensure punctual attendance, and regular habits; 
 and lessons are given in religious books, that topics may be 
 suggested, and opportunities afforded, for that conversation 
 which must be the principal means of direct religious in- 
 struction. 
 
 The example I have given of the manner in which the 
 love of God may be gradually excited and cherished in the 
 26 
 
202 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 heart of a child, will sufficiently show the mode, in which 
 the other grand duties of Christianity are to be inculcated. 
 Next to the love of God, both reason and revelation require 
 of us gratitude to the Saviour. It is a duty which we are 
 all too apt to neglect. We do not think enough of Jesus 
 Christ ; or we think of him too generally, too distantly. 
 We are apt to regard him, as a model of abstract perfec- 
 tion, exhibited in other times, to men of different manners, 
 habits, and pursuits from ours. We forget, or at least we do 
 not feel, that he should be our model, our pattern of imita- 
 tion, that " he hath left us an example that we should follow 
 his steps." And it is precisely for this reason, that Chris- 
 tianity has apparently so little effect upon the great mass of 
 those who dwell in Christian countries, and are considered as 
 professors of the Christian faith. But there is, in the history 
 of Jesus Christ, something peculiarly captivating to the minds 
 of children. He is presented to them in a form which they 
 can apprehend. He is not, like the Supreme Being, some- 
 thing vast and incomprehensible, filling all space and sup- 
 porting all existence without being seen, or heard, or under- 
 stood. When they are instructed in the existence and at- 
 tributes of God, they can bring to their imaginations no vis- 
 ible point, in which they can centre the rays of his glory. 
 The mind is overwhelmed and lost, when it attempts to 
 grasp what is infinite and eternal. But Jesus Christ ap- 
 peared on earth as one of our own race. He partook of 
 our nature, and when we think of him, we can bring to our 
 minds his person, his deportment, his words, and all the 
 circumstances of his life. This is peculiarly valuable in 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 203 
 
 the instruction of children. Jesus Christ, while on earth, 
 passed through all the stages of human existence from in- 
 fancy to manhood. He can therefore command our sym- 
 pathies in every period of our own lives. There is scarce- 
 ly a social or relative duty scarcely an act or a suffering 
 in the countless variety of human scenes, in which we can- 
 not derive instruction and support from his example. The 
 history of Jesus Christ should therefore be indelibly engrav- 
 ed upon the minds of children. They should be made ac- 
 quainted with it in its minutest details. No opportunity 
 should be lost of associating it with something that they al- 
 ready know or feel. The chords of religious emotion 
 should be so multiplied, that strike where you will in af- 
 ter life, some string shall be touched that will vibrate to 
 him. And here I would observe, that in the religious in- 
 struction of children, the perplexed and controverted ques- 
 tion of the precise nature of the Saviour's person, should 
 be most carefully avoided. None of our duties, at least 
 none of the duties of children, depend upon our under- 
 standing it. The region of religious controversy is cold 
 and barren ; distracted by numerous paths ; covered with 
 perpetual clouds, and vexed with continual storms. It is 
 our duty in the maturity of our age and reason, when our 
 moral principles are established and our devotional habits 
 confirmed, to explore our way through it. But children 
 should be led only to the hill-side and the valley, where all 
 is calm, and sheltered, and bright ; where they may feel at 
 once the warmth and the splendor of the " Sun of Righteous- 
 ness." Whatever may be our opinions of the personal na- 
 
204 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 ture of the Saviour, we all agree in his personal and official 
 character. We all receive him as " the image of the invisi- 
 ble God ; " we all acknowledge him as the messenger sent 
 from God ; we all bow to his commands, as the commands 
 of God. We all look to him as our moral Governor ; we 
 all expect from him our final destiny. While, therefore, we 
 labor earnestly and constantly to lead the thoughts and af- 
 fections of children to Jesus Christ, let us beware of per- 
 plexing their understandings and chilling their hearts with 
 controversies, about which the wisest and best of men have 
 hitherto differed. It is our duty, as far as we have time 
 and opportunity, patiently and impartially to examine them ; 
 for we are answerable to God for our opinions, as well 
 as our actions. But, in the instruction of children, we 
 should leave their minds as free as our own ; and whenever 
 it becomes necessary to express to them our opinions upon 
 any controverted subject, we should watch carefully our 
 own hearts, lest we mistake party-spirit for Christian zeal. 
 A most important subject remains, which it requires much 
 care and prudence to communicate properly to children ; 
 I mean the sanctions of religion. One of the first lessons 
 they receive is an account of their own immortality ; and 
 I know of no theme, which can so readily excite the atten- 
 tion of children. They must live for ever ! On them 
 death has no power. But how ? and where ? and with 
 whom are they to live ? In answer to these questions, it 
 requires no talents or skill to describe such a scene as shall 
 harrow up the feelings and wither the heart of a helpless 
 and timid child. I have known a young child afraid to 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 205 
 
 look at the clouds, lest it should see there the face of an 
 angry God. But this was not religion ; it was terror, it was 
 insanity. The first words of the Lord's Prayer are suffi- 
 cient to show us that the Supreme Being should not be 
 represented as a God of vengeance. He is emphatically 
 " our Father in heaven." The punishment of the wicked, 
 in a future life, will be the necessary consequence of their 
 sins. They will be miserable, because they are wicked. 
 And it will be sufficient to convince children, by their own 
 experience, that sin and misery are inseparably connected. 
 You can remind them, upon proper occasions, that they 
 have always been unhappy, when they have committed a 
 fault ; and they can then be gradually impressed with one 
 of the most important lessons they can learn, but one 
 which we are all constantly liable to forget, that the com- 
 mands and restraints of religion are only directions and 
 cautions to us, to pursue our own happiness. If you have 
 been successful in associating the idea of God with good- 
 ness, and love, and fatherly care, there will be but little oc- 
 casion to talk with children of the punishments of the wick- 
 ed in a future life ; and in this, as in every thing else, we 
 should look to the example of Jesus Christ. While he de- 
 nounced, in the most appalling language, the vengeance of 
 Heaven against the hardened oppressor, the shameless hyp- 
 ocrite, the degraded sensualist, "he took little children 
 in his arms and blessed them." Such be our deportment 
 towards those who are intrusted to our care. 
 
 But in conversing upon the rewards of the good in 
 another life, upon the happiness of that heaven to which 
 
206 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 we are all aspiring, a most important practical lesson may 
 be communicated to children. We have no reason to be- 
 lieve, that our happiness in a future state will be some 
 strange and inexpressible delight, miraculously communicat- 
 ed to us, independent of our character and situation. We 
 are nowhere instructed, that God will make us happy, 
 merely because we are removed to another world. The 
 whole analogy of God's government is opposed to this sup- 
 position. God works by means; and he works progres- 
 sively. Nothing springs at once into its full perfection. 
 Both reason and Scripture concur in the doctrine, that man 
 is made for progressive improvement and happiness ; and 
 that this world is a preparation for the next. If, then, we 
 are now preparing for another world, and if in that other 
 world we shall advance in happiness and improvement, it 
 follows, that our happiness will be the same in kind (though 
 infinitely greater in degree) with what we now enjoy. In 
 other words, the happiness of heaven will have its founda- 
 tion in our present character ; and will consist, like our 
 present happiness, in the knowledge of God and of his 
 works ; in the exercises of piety ; in the indulgence of the 
 kindly affections ; in the consciousness of increasing virtue 
 and holiness ; and in the full conviction of the unalterable 
 favor of God. Nor let any one suppose that this is a low 
 view of the happiness of heaven ; that it is degrading its 
 joys to the standard of mere human bliss. Consider for a 
 moment, what would be your emotions, if you were now, 
 in this place, weak and mortal as you are, assured by a 
 voice from heaven that the contest was over ; that the vie- 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 207 
 
 tory was yours ; that you were now secure from sorrow 
 and sin ; that you were the chosen of God ; and that from 
 this moment, in company with kindred beings, you were to 
 continue your upward flight with an unflagging wing, still 
 brightening in glory, as you advanced towards the throne of 
 the Most High ? Would not the bare certainty of such a 
 state be as much happiness as your nature could endure ? 
 Consider further, the amount of knowledge we are able to 
 acquire, in a few short years ; in this frail and sickly body ; 
 amidst all the avocations of life ; distracted by numerous 
 cares ; interrupted by necessary sleep : consider the pro- 
 gress we are able to make in moral virtue, amidst the sins 
 and sorrows, the trials and temptations of this agitated 
 state ; and then carry your views forward to what you will 
 be, after the lapse of ages, in a state of constant and unin- 
 terrupted advancement? If we speak now with admiration 
 of those great and pure spirits, who for a few years have 
 enlightened and instructed the world, how shall we find 
 words to express what we ourselves may be " when time 
 shall be no longer." Surely, " eye hath not seen, nor ear 
 heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the 
 things which God hath prepared for them that love him." 
 
 But the practical lesson I would derive from such a view 
 of future happiness is this, that no exertion, however fee- 
 ble, is ineffectual ; that no acquisition, however small, in 
 knowledge or virtue is lost. If I am right in the belief, that 
 we are to advance from our present state, and that our hap- 
 piness will result rather from our character, than our situa- 
 tion, then every truth which we impress upon the mind of a 
 
208 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 child, every good principle, which we communicate to his 
 heart, is rendering him more fit for the happiness of heav- 
 en ; is making him capable of higher happiness ; and of 
 course every hour that we spend here, we are doing some- 
 thing to increase the happiness of heaven. Let me not be 
 understood as asserting, that we can do any thing to merit 
 heaven. It is all a free gift ; an undeserved gift ; but like 
 all the other blessings of God, it is a gift upon condition ; 
 and we can perform the condition, and can teach others to 
 perform it. It is therefore strictly true, that the happiness 
 of heaven may be increased by our exertions. The little 
 spark that we are attempting to kindle here, and which we 
 can scarcely cherish into life, may glow with inextinguisha- 
 ble and increasing brightness, when the sun which enlight- 
 ens our world, and the stars, which now twinkle above us, 
 will be quenched in everlasting night. 
 
 Do we need a stonger motive ? Is it not enough that we 
 are doing something for human improvement ; that we are 
 promoting the grand cause of virtue and knowledge in the 
 world ; that we are preparing immortal minds for everlast- 
 ing happiness ? Then remember, that we are laboring for 
 ourselves. Not one good thought, not one kind feeling, not 
 one generous purpose has ever been excited in this place, 
 without its reward; its reward in present happiness, in 
 present improvement, and in capacity for future happiness. 
 While we impress religious truth upon the minds of others, 
 if we do it warmly, affectionately, sincerely, we receive 
 an equal impression ourselves. 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 209 
 
 It may be, that hereafter, when separated from all that 
 now engrosses our attention, when removed at once from the 
 cares and hopes of life, we shall feel, that we have indeed 
 entered upon a course which is to continue for ever ; it may 
 be, that we shall advance together, to receive our doom 
 from him in whose name this school has been conducted. 
 Then, when nothing earthly will yield us support, it may 
 be, that our hope of acceptance will be founded upon the 
 progress we have here made. It may be, that we shall be 
 welcomed to that better world by some of those happy spir- 
 its, whom we have here taught to love their God and their 
 Saviour, and who, in their upward progress, will bear with 
 increasing brightness the image we have here impressed ! 
 Do we need more ? 
 
 " Whosoever shall give to drink, unto one of these little 
 ones, a cup of cold water only, in the name of a disciple, 
 verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward." 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 THE South Parish Sunday School was established in 
 May, 1818. A society was formed by several members of 
 the parish for that purpose, and a subscription was opened 
 to defray the necessary expenses of the school. As it was 
 considered, at first, as a mere experiment, no pains were 
 taken to procure the attendance of children. It was mere- 
 ly announced from the pulpit, that a school was opened for 
 
 27 
 
210 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 such children as chose to resort there for instruction, and 
 those who attended were requested to mention it to their 
 companions. On the second sabbath, one hundred and for- 
 ty children repaired to the school, a large number of whom 
 were precisely of that class and character which most re- 
 quired religious instruction and the discipline of a school. 
 This success was entirely unexpected ; but it has continued 
 without interruption to the present time. At the close of the 
 last year, two hundred and twenty children belonged to the 
 school, namely, one hundred and twenty-six girls and nine- 
 ty-four boys ; and one hundred and forty-one had attended 
 through the year. The present attendance is still greater, 
 there being frequently from one hundred and seventy to one 
 hundred and eighty children at school. The school is un- 
 der the care of seventeen ladies and thirteen gentlemen, be- 
 sides several of the older children, who are employed as 
 assistant teachers, or are intrusted with a small class, under 
 the inspection and control of a regular teacher. 
 
 The attention of the teachers was first directed to the 
 forming of habits of order and decorum among the children 
 at school, and in places of public worship. It was consid- 
 ered that religious instruction would have small chance of 
 success amidst rudeness and insubordination. At school, 
 they have been entirely successful ; and, at meeting, it is 
 found that a larger number of children are present than for- 
 merly, and that much less exertion is necessary, to preserve 
 order and attention among them, during the time of public 
 worship. 
 
 No precise course of instruction is prescribed in the 
 school, as it is well understood, that the improvement of 
 the child depends very much upon the personal communi- 
 cations of the teacher, which must of course be continually 
 varied. A few general rules, however, have been adopted, 
 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 211 
 
 which have been framed with the advice and consent of a 
 majority of the teachers. 
 
 When a new scholar enters the school, he is examined 
 by the superintendent, and placed in such a class as is best 
 adapted to his acquirements and wants. It is the first en- 
 deavour of the instructer, to impress upon the mind of his 
 pupil, a sense of dependence upon God, and of accounta- 
 bleness to him, and a deep reverence for his character and 
 name. The first lessons, therefore, relate to the duty of 
 prayer. Every child is taught some appropriate form of 
 address to the Deity, and is instructed to pray habitually 
 and reverently. He is then taught the Commandments, 
 Watts's shorter Catechism, and the " Hymns for Infant 
 Minds." These are followed by Watts's Historical Cate- 
 chism, and lessons from the New Testament. In selections 
 from the Testament, the lessons are always short, and the 
 plainest and most practical parts are preferred. A consid- 
 erable number of the children are exercised in Cummings's 
 " Scripture Questions " ; and two classes have been instruct- 
 ed from Porteus's " Evidences " and Watts's " Improve- 
 ment of the Mind." Mason on " Self-Knowledge " and 
 Paley's " Natural Theology" have been occasionally used. 
 
 At the end of a quarter, some small reward is given to 
 every child who has been punctual in his attendance, and 
 who has not forfeited his title to it by misbehaviour ; and a 
 certificate of good conduct, or a larger reward, is given to 
 those who have distinguished themselves. Nothing more 
 has been found necessary, to preserve the discipline of the 
 school. No corporal punishment has ever been inflicted or 
 threatened. 
 
 The success of the school and with gratitude to the Su- 
 preme Being it must be acknowledged, that its success has 
 been greater than common is to be ascribed to the perse- 
 
212 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 vering use of judicious means. No sudden changes, or 
 flashes of brilliant success, were expected or desired. 
 Whatever is most permanent and valuable is of slow growth. 
 And in the quiet progress of moral and intellectual improve- 
 ment, the friends of the school have seen enough to gladden 
 their hearts, and to excite their gratitude to Him, from 
 whom cometh down every good and perfect gift. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
CHARACTER OF A LAWYER IN THE 
 UNITED STATES. 
 
 Existat tails orator, qualem quserimus. 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 To enumerate the qualities neccessary to form a great 
 and successful Lawyer, it will be proper to consider him in 
 the several relations in which he may be placed in society, and 
 the effect which the character of that society ought to have 
 upon all his pursuits. In this country, where utility, actual 
 or imaginary, is the chief standard of excellence and the 
 chief measure by which public favor is granted, a practi- 
 cal knowledge of his profession is the first requisite in a 
 lawyer. It is not sufficient, that he should be acquainted 
 with the theory of the science, or have a profound knowl- 
 edge of its general principles ; he must be dexterous in their 
 application, and be thoroughly versed in all the subtilties of 
 practice. For this purpose, his first object should be to 
 perform in the best manner all the business intrusted to him, 
 however small the amount, or unimportant the nature. The 
 talents of a general may often be displayed in the arrange- 
 
216 CHARACTER OF A LAWYER 
 
 ment of a single troop. The quickness and facility of prac- 
 tice is perhaps one of the qualities most obvious to the 
 multitude, and next to a captivating eloquence, most allures 
 their regard. 
 
 He should next endeavour to obtain an extensive and 
 distinct view of the law as a science ; as the application 
 of the principles of moral virtue to the various and jarring 
 interests of society. This can scarcely be effected with- 
 out a familiar acquaintance with the rules of ethical philos- 
 ophy, and a knowledge of the principles of government, as 
 they affect the municipal regulations of states. Of this 
 last I shall speak hereafter. But I will venture to say, that 
 no man can ever be an accomplished advocate, whose mind 
 has not been enriched by the principles and arguments of 
 moral philosophy. 
 
 In considering the employment of an advocate, whose 
 ultimate object is to convince and persuade, we are impres- 
 sed at once with the necessity of order and logical arrange- 
 ment. Without method, the most weighty arguments are 
 vain and inefficient ; and the most brilliant eloquence, idle 
 and powerless. The advocate therefore must study and 
 profoundly meditate the best writers on logic and the phi- 
 losophy of the human mind. From the study of the 
 mathematics he will acquire the habit of abstraction, and the 
 power of concentrating his attention upon a single propo- 
 sition. But he will not pursue them too far, because the 
 power of weighing probabilities and of deciding upon moral 
 evidence, is rather inconsistent with the habit of rigid de- 
 monstration. 
 
IN THE UNITED STATES. 217 
 
 But even the best arguments are repulsive, when clothed 
 in harsh or ungrammatical expressions ; and the most learn- 
 ed dissertation will be heard with neglect, if delivered with- 
 out grace or dignity. The advocate therefore should ex- 
 press his thoughts with elegance and correctness. 
 
 The habit of speaking correctly should be commenced 
 in childhood, and preserved by the most minute and contin- 
 ual attention. The advocate should never, even in sport, 
 indulge in vulgar or ungrammatical expressions. He should 
 preserve the purity of his language, as of his mind, by repel- 
 ling at once, every thing which is incorrect or doubtful. 
 The theory of language, as the instrument of thought, he 
 will have derived from his philosophical studies ; but it may 
 be necessary for him to pursue it in its consequences as 
 the means of communicating thought, and of affecting the 
 minds of others. He will therefore extend his researches 
 to the origin, progress, and changes of his native language ; 
 to its improvements and corruptions, to its fulness and pov- 
 erty. But he will not be satisfied with speaking correctly ; 
 he will aim at elegance, and for this purpose he will 
 read, with unwearied attention, the best writers of his own 
 country, especially the poets and historians. He will en- 
 graft their finest expressions into his own habitual style. 
 
 He will not suffer a happy phrase to escape him. He 
 will collect, combine, and imitate. He will stimulate his 
 imagination by poetry and works of fiction. He will culti- 
 vate his taste by contemplating the beauties of nature, and 
 by indulging in the enthusiasm of generous sentiments. 
 
 28 
 
218 CHARACTER OF A LAWYER 
 
 But these qualities, however admirable, are not them- 
 selves sufficient to make a successful lawyer. A knowledge 
 of the world, or of mankind, as experience has found them? 
 must be superadded to the knowledge of books. This must 
 be acquired by a liberal and familiar intercourse with differ- 
 ent classes in society, and by a profound attention to the 
 lessons of history and biography. There are few talents 
 in which a greater difference is found among mankind, than 
 in that of observation. To cherish and improve this talent, 
 should be an important object in the education of an advo- 
 cate. He should frequently revolve in his mind the charac- 
 ter, habits, and situation of those with whom he is acquainted, 
 comparing their improvement with their advantages, their 
 present situation with their former hopes and future pros- 
 pects. He must reflect deeply upon the character of the 
 society in which he lives ; must discover the objects of 
 their preference and aversion ; must analyze their passions, 
 and be able to point out their predominant motives. This 
 knowledge will be of infinite importance to him at the 
 bar ; both in his examination of witnesses, and in his ad- 
 dresses to the jury. It will give him the key to their pas- 
 sions and affections, and enable him to mould their conduct 
 at his will. 
 
 After a few years of successful practice at the bar, the 
 influence he has acquired in society, and the esteem which 
 his integrity has conciliated, will entitle him to a share in 
 the public councils of his country. As a statesman, a new 
 field of exertion and usefulness will be opened to him, 
 which may well inflame the most honorable ambition. To 
 
IN THE UNITED STATES, 219 
 
 have the power of conferring benefits upon millions, to have a 
 part in measures which may affect the most remote poster- 
 ity, and to associate his name with the history of his coun- 
 try, is indeed the noblest reward of an upright and intelli- 
 gent citizen. But he, who aspires to distinction in public life, 
 must lay the foundations of his ambition broad and deep. 
 He must be minutely acquainted with the history of his own 
 country, and well versed in that of the civilized world. The 
 knowledge of agriculture, commerce, and manufactures 
 must be added to that of law and history, to complete the 
 qualifications of a statesman, " thoroughly furnished to every 
 good work." 
 
 But there are still more acquirements to be obtained, 
 without which all this knowledge and talent would be instru- 
 ments of error or corruption. The lawyer must have his 
 moral principles strengthened and confirmed by religious 
 belief; not an attachment to particular phrases and terms, 
 or a belief in the infallibility of a party or a sect, but a 
 steadfast persuasion of the duties which man owes to his 
 Creator, and a deep conviction of their continual importance. 
 This faith, as inculcated, confirmed, and explained by the 
 Founder of Christianity, should receive his most serious at- 
 tention, and his most implicit submission. He should exam- 
 ine the tenets of the various sects of religionists, and care- 
 fully consider the influence of their several opinions upon 
 their practice. From this examination, he will learn a mild 
 and catholic spirit; and will perceive that many, who in 
 profession are bitterly opposed to each other, are in fact 
 united in principle and in practice. 
 
220 CHARACTER OF A LAWYER. 
 
 I have hitherto avoided speaking of one principle, which 
 is to give life and animation to the whole. I mean that ar- 
 dent love of excellence, which, untired by exertion, and 
 undismayed by opposition, pursues learning for its own sake, 
 and in silence and neglect, is content with personal improve- 
 ment. He who possesses this spirit is sure of distinction. 
 In the profession of law, more than in any other pursuit in 
 life, his reward is certain. But if by any fatality his merit 
 should be overlooked, his very studies have prepared him 
 for happiness in obscurity. 
 
 Possessing an active and well regulated mind, he will nev- 
 er become the victim of discontent or weariness. As his 
 studies have been liberally extended over the whole circle 
 of science, he can never be at a loss for agreeable and ele- 
 vated employment ; and as his passions have been purified 
 and his hopes enlarged by Christian faith, he can look with- 
 out emotion upon the changes of the world, and calmly 
 await his removal to another scene. 
 1816. 
 
ECONOMY IN PUBLIC SERVICE. 
 
 No word in the language has been so often misunderstood 
 and perverted as economy. It is generally confounded 
 with parsimony, or mere saving of money, a quality from 
 which it is entirely distinct. Economy is a wise regulation 
 of expense, and not a forbearance of expense. It consists 
 in judiciously adapting the means to the end ; in applying 
 to a given purpose all the power necessary to effect it, and 
 no more. It is therefore as much removed from parsimony 
 as from extravagance. 
 
 A few examples will render the distinction plain. A 
 young mechanic, who should refuse to furnish himself with 
 the tools of his trade, that he might save the money 
 they cost, would be parsimonious, but not economical. A 
 merchant, who should neglect to provide his ship with prop- 
 er sails and equipments, might hoard his money, but would 
 have no pretensions to economy. If we should see a 
 father employing in trade the money necessary for the ed- 
 ucation of his children, and suffering them to grow up in 
 ignorance, though we might speak of his parsimony, we 
 should hardly venture to ascribe to him the merit of econo- 
 my. 
 
222 ECONOMY IN PUBLIC SERVICE. 
 
 Parsimony, in its consequences, generally tends to loss. 
 In the examples we have just given, the mechanic and 
 merchant would ultimately lose money, by the the present 
 saving 5 and in the third case, the loss would be still greater, 
 though of a different kind, a loss not to be repaired by 
 any subsequent gain. 
 
 As men are generally more inclined to spend than to save, 
 it is more frequently the office of economy to curtail, than 
 to enlarge expenses. But it is not always so ; and great 
 evil arises from not making the necessary discrimination. 
 Every man thinks he has the capacity of being economical, 
 when in fact he may have only the capacity of being par- 
 simonious. Parsimony demands nothing but a knowledge 
 of subtraction ; economy requires talents of a high order. 
 A man to be economical must proceed like the inventor of 
 a machine. He must place distinctly in his view the object 
 to be effected, and the power under his control ; and must 
 then apply the power to the object in a manner to waste as 
 little of it as possible. Economy would reduce the expense 
 of a steam engine, by diminishing the friction and increas- 
 ing the velocity; parsimony would leave the machine as it 
 was, and take away half the fuel. 
 
 We have been led to these remarks by the cry of econo- 
 my, which has recently been raised in several parts of the 
 Union. If economy were really meant by the cry, we 
 should be glad to hear it ; for we would not have a cent 
 unnecessarily expended. But if the mere saving of mon- 
 ey be intended, without regard to consequences, if eco- 
 nomical reform mean the sacrifice of any thing necessary 
 
ECONOMY IN PUBLIC SERVICE. 223 
 
 to the honor, or safety, or prosperity of the nation, we must 
 be pardoned, if we hesitate to give it our support. There 
 are many things in life more valuable than money ; and a 
 nation, like an individual, may suffer irremediable losses by 
 an ill-timed parsimony. If the salaries or perquisites of 
 any public offices are too high, that is, if the highest qual- 
 ifications can be commanded for a less sum, reduce them. 
 If any office be unnecessary, abolish it. If any expendi- 
 ture be wasteful, diminish it. But do not let us degrade the 
 government, or endanger the safety of the people, for any 
 paltry consideration of present gain. It is very easy to re- 
 duce salaries, and diminish expenses, but it is not so easy 
 to govern well a great and powerful people. We might get 
 a governor of New-Hampshire for one hundred dollars, 
 nay, our almshouse would furnish a president for fifty ; we 
 might save ninety thousand dollars a year, by repealing our 
 school tax ; but we trust no one, at present, would contend, 
 that we should be either better taught, or better governed, 
 after this radical reform. 
 
 Dec. 14, 1822. 
 
CAUCUSES. 
 
 THERE are two principles which must be admitted by the 
 friends of a causus nomination. The first is, that the nom- 
 ination by a caucus ought to influence the subsequent elec- 
 tion ; and the second is, that a small number of persons, 
 self-appointed, can decide better, who is worthy of public 
 office, than the people themselves. 
 
 If the nomination by a caucus be the mere naming of a 
 candidate, and is not designed, of itself, to affect the elec- 
 tion, why so much anxiety to have a caucus assembled, and 
 why are the people told that they must, at all events, acqui- 
 esce in such a nomination ? The " National Advocate " has 
 repeatedly asserted, that the people must and will abide by 
 the decision of a caucus ; and that all who will not promise 
 to submit to such decision do not belong to the Republican 
 party. The same doctrine is supported by the " Richmond 
 Enquirer," and receives some countenance from the " New- 
 Hampshire Patriot." 
 
 If the people are to abide by the decision of a caucus, 
 then the President of the United States is in fact to be 
 elected by a caucus. It is then the doctrine of a party 
 
CAUCUSES. 225 
 
 among us, that the people ought not to elect their chief 
 magistrate, but that a ruler should be set over them by a 
 privileged few. 
 
 The reasons assigned for a caucus nomination are, that 
 without such a nomination, the votes of the electors would 
 be scattered ; and that if the votes were scattered, there 
 might be no choice by the electors. This is the apprehend- 
 ed evil. If there were no choice by the electors, a choice 
 must be made by the members of the House of Represen- 
 tatives, voting by states. This is the constitutional remedy. 
 But if a previous nomination were made by a caucus, and 
 if the electors were bound to vote for the person designated 
 by the caucus, the votes would not be scattered, and there 
 would be a choice, in the first instance, by the electors. 
 This is the proposed remedy. 
 
 Now who are the privileged few, who are to dictate to 
 the electors ? The members of the House of Representa- 
 tives ? And why not the officers of the army and navy ? 
 Why not the Secretary of the Treasury, or the Secretary 
 of State, with their respective clerks ? A writer in the 
 " Savannah Republican " proposes, that the Ex-Presidents 
 should call a council of a few distinguished men, and " by 
 and with their advice and consent," select a President for 
 the people. This, in Europe, would be called aristocracy ; 
 in the opinion of the " National Advocate," a plan perfectly 
 similar is to be the only test of republicanism. 
 
 We have heard, that in a distant state, some years ago, 
 an important cause was pending in court, in which the facts 
 were so doubtful, that it was apprehended, that on the trial 
 
 29 
 
226 CAUCUSES. 
 
 the jury would not be able to agree in a verdict. On the 
 morning of the day in which the court was to sit, the 
 friends of one of the parties, who had been summoned to 
 court as his witnesses, finding themselves together near the 
 court-house, very naturally fell into conversation respecting 
 his cause. Upon comparing together and talking over the 
 testimony which they were severally prepared to give, the 
 case seemed a very clear one, and they were surprised, 
 that any question should be made about it. They regret- 
 ted that so much time should be lost, as would be necessa- 
 ry to try it before the jury. They at last concluded in the 
 simplicity of their hearts, that the ends of justice would be 
 promoted, by preparing a verdict, at once, for their friend 
 the plaintiff. The verdict was accordingly drawn up ; by 
 which it was decided, that the plaintiff should recover the 
 whole estate demanded in his writ. As soon as the jury 
 was empannelled and the cause called on for trial, one of 
 the witnesses rose and respectfully addressing the court, in- 
 formed them that he had the pleasure to state, that the 
 cause was already decided ; that although it was a necessa- 
 ry formality, a very absurd and antiquated one, to be sure, 
 that the jury should pass upon the cause, in compliance 
 with the letter of the law, yet that the plaintiff's witnesses 
 had drawn up a verdict for him ; and they were, at the 
 same time, unanimously of opinion, that if the jury hesitated 
 a moment in confirming that verdict, or the court in render- 
 ing judgment upon it, that they should be turned neck and 
 heels out of the court-house, according to law. 
 
CAUCUSES. 227 
 
 This was a Caucus, and ought to have been submitted 
 to without reluctance. But it is said, that the presiding 
 judge, who was a vile aristocrat, committed the witnesses to 
 prison for a contempt of court ; and that, on the final trial, 
 the jury, who had strange notions of equal and exact jus- 
 tice, found a verdict for the defendant. 
 
 Portsmouth Journal, 
 August 16, 1823. 
 
PRINCIPLE OF SPECULATION. 
 
 THE sudden rise of merchandise during the last ten days, 
 and the speculations (as they are called) which have been 
 made in consequence of it, have been the subject of much 
 conversation, and the question has more than once been 
 asked how far such speculations are justifiable. The 
 doubt may perhaps be lessened by stating one or two cases. 
 
 If, in consequence of tidings from Europe, there should 
 be a sudden advance in the price of cotton at New York, 
 which it is certainly known, will produce a correspondent 
 advance in Boston, is it fair in a merchant of New York 
 to send an express to Boston in anticipation of the mail, and 
 purchase cotton in that city before the news of the increase 
 of price could possibly be received ? A large portion of 
 the merchantile world would probably answer this question 
 in the affirmative. It would be called a fair speculation. 
 
 If a man, passing an office in which a lottery had just 
 been drawn, should be told that a certain ticket had come 
 up the highest prize, would it be fair in him to send an ex- 
 press to the owner of that ticket and purchase it, at the mar- 
 ket value of tickets, before the owner could possibly be in- 
 
PRINCIPLE OF SPECULATION. 229 
 
 formed of his good fortune ? This question would probably 
 be answered in the negative. It would be called overreach- 
 ing, or some worse name. 
 
 It is possible, that a distinction may be taken between the 
 two cases ; but at the first view, they certainly appear to 
 rest on the same principle. The owner of the cotton 
 and the owner of the ticket have each an article of com- 
 merce, which has at the present moment a definite market 
 value. The cases thus far are alike. But in consequence 
 of events unknown at the time to the respective owners, 
 both the cotton and the lottery ticket have acquired a new 
 value ; and the owners, ignorant of this increased value, 
 make the sale in the belief that they are receiving the fair 
 equivalent for what they part with. The analogy ap- 
 pears to hold, throughout. 
 
 The broad and safe principle appears to be that laid 
 down by the virtuous Pothier. 
 
 " Any deviation from the most exact and scrupulous sin- 
 cerity is repugnant to the good faith that ought to prevail in 
 contracts. Any dissimulation concerning the subject matter 
 of the contract, and what the opposite party has an interest 
 in knowing, is contrary to that good faith." 
 
 This principle does not at all affect the fair profits of 
 trade. It is a vulgar prejudice to suppose, that what is a 
 good bargain on one side, must necessarily be a bad bar- 
 gain on the other. Commerce is an exchange of equal val- 
 ues for the purpose of bringing the products of industry to 
 the hand of the ultimate consumer, and when conducted with 
 skill, may be profitable on both sides. A shoemaker, who 
 
230 PRINCIPLE OF SPECULATION. 
 
 exchanges a pair of boots for a hat, or for five dollars, 
 which will buy a hat, parts with that which he does not 
 want, in exchange for that which he does. This, which is 
 the simplest form of trade, brings the article at once to the 
 hands of the consumer. The articles exchanged are of 
 equal value : but both parties are rewarded for their indus- 
 try ; the shoemaker by a hat, and the hatter by a pair of 
 boots, which they respectively need. 
 
 The operations of foreign commerce, though more circu- 
 itous, are precisely the same in principle. Equal values 
 are every where supposed to be exchanged. A merchant, 
 for example, ships a cargo of boards to the West Indies, 
 which have cost him twelve dollars a thousand ; but by car- 
 rying them across the ocean he adds eight dollars a thousand 
 to their value. And when on his arrival he sells them for 
 twenty dollars and purchases coffee, he still exchanges only 
 equal values; and what he calls profit is only the increased val- 
 ue, which his industry has given to the materials of his com- 
 merce. On the other side, the West India planter, who 
 has more coffee than he can consume, but has no boards to 
 repair his house, gains by exchanging the one for the other ; 
 and the result is the same, whether at his own expense he 
 send coffee to America to buy boards, or whether he ex- 
 change his coffee in the West Indies for boards at the ad- 
 vanced price. The products of industry have been brought 
 to the hands of the consumer, and both parties have gained 
 by the exchange. 
 
 Nor does the rule of Pothier exclude the advantages 
 which may be derived from the exercise of diligence and 
 
PRINCIPLE OF SPECULATION. 231 
 
 skill. A man, in making a purchase, is not obliged to pro- 
 claim all that he knows respecting the fluctuations of the 
 market, or of the profitable uses to which a commodity may 
 be applied. The ordinary state of the market and the val- 
 ue of commodities are supposed to be in the knowledge of 
 every person engaged in trade ; and if the vender of goods 
 neglect to use the ordinary means of intelligence, he must 
 suffer the consequences of his indolence. 
 
 It has been intimated in the New York papers, that the 
 southern mail was detained at Powles' Hook nearly two 
 hours, to enable certain speculators to reach Philadelphia 
 and make their purchases before the arrival of the mail. 
 This has called forth every where strong expressions of 
 indignation. The merchants of Philadelphia were depriv- 
 ed of the ordinary source of intelligence, upon which they 
 relied. They were taken unawares ; for no human pru- 
 dence could have foreseen and guarded against a failure of 
 the mail on that particular day. But where is the differ- 
 ence between stopping the mail to effect a particular object, 
 and sending an express in anticipation of the mail ? In both 
 cases the seller is deceived by trusting to the ordinary means 
 of intelligence. 
 
 But the subject grows upon us, and we must quit it for 
 the present with the single remark, that having no mer- 
 chandise to buy or sell, we are at least disinterested spec- 
 tators of what is passing around us. 
 
 Portsmouth Journal, 
 April 16, 1825. 
 
POETRY 
 
 30 
 
235 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 THERE is a strange mixture of Paganism and Christiani- 
 ty in the spurious fragments which pass under the name of 
 Orpheus. They contain many sublime conceptions, which 
 could have been derived only from the sacred Scriptures. 
 The unity and spirituality of the Deity, and his superiority 
 to fate, are directly opposed to every system of Pagan my- 
 thology. In the first of the fragments here translated, the 
 use of ayydoi, in the sense of heavenly messengers, fixes its 
 date within the Christian era. 
 
 FROM A FRAGMENT ASCRIBED TO ORPHEUS. 
 
 EARTH, air, and ocean own thy sway, O God, 
 
 And high Olympus trembles at thy nod ! 
 
 In realms of night, the dead thy laws fulfil ; 
 
 The Fates obedient execute thy will : 
 
 Thine anger shakes the spheres. In cloud and storm, 
 
 Mingled with fire, thou veil'st thine awful form. 
 
 But high in heaven, beyond where planets roll, 
 In life, and light, and joy beyond control, 
 Where circling angels hymn thy holy praise, 
 And dwell in light too strong for mortal gaze, 
 Thy throne, O God, is fixed. 
 
236 
 
 FROM A FRAGMENT ASCRIBED TO ORPHEUS, 
 
 'T is God alone, to whom belong 
 The tributes of the poet's song : 
 On him corruption has no power, 
 For him awaits no fatal hour. 
 
 Terrible God, who dwell'st alone, 
 Thick clouds and dark surround thy throne ; 
 Yet come, in mercy's mildest form, 
 Come, and my breast with rapture warm ! 
 
 I sing thy power, which first ordained 
 The world, from chaos late regained. 
 
 1808. 
 
237 
 
 DEITY. 
 
 TRANSLATION OF A HYMN ASCRIBED TO ORPHEUS. 
 
 I SPEAK to ears initiate. Far removed 
 Be every vulgar eye. Thou only, moon, 
 Rolling full-orbed in silent majesty, 
 Witness my song. I utter truths sublime ; 
 Truths which the soul exalt. In mute attention 
 Listen ; for I proclaim a Deity. 
 
 The Almighty One, self-born, all-glorious, 
 Exists ; Creator blest, wide nature's Sovereign, 
 Invisible to mortal eye ; but he, 
 Watchful, for ever guards his boundless works. 
 He, of his goodness, chastens man. He sends 
 War, famine, pestilence. He, he alone, 
 Uncounselled, governs and directs the whole. 
 
 O come with me, my friend, adoring trace 
 In all his works the footsteps of a God. 
 His hand sustains, his powerful arm upholds 
 Creation ; he himself invisible, 
 
238 DEITY. 
 
 For clouds and darkness shroud him. He, removed 
 High in the heaven of heavens, dwells not with man. 
 No eye can see him, save the Son beloved, 
 Of wondrous origin, Chaldea's hope. 
 
 God in the heavens resides. The rolling world, 
 The star-bespangled firmament, the sun, 
 Evening's mild lamp, creation's utmost bounds 
 Extended lie before him. He directs 
 The ceaseless flow of ocean. He, in storms, 
 Rides on the whirlwind, hurls the fire of Heaven. 
 
 God in the heavens resides. He spreads his arms 
 To ocean's utmost bounds. At his approach 
 The mountains tremble ; from their bases leap 
 The everlasting hills. To his high power 
 Earth bows submissive ; He, the first and last. 
 
 No more. I tremble to proclaim his power. 
 God, from on high, the universe sustains. 
 My friend, restrain thy lips. In silent awe 
 Bow, and adore the wonder-working God. 
 
 1808. 
 
239 
 
 HYMN FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY, 1813. 
 
 FATHER, again before thy throne, 
 Thy suppliant children humbly pray ; 
 
 With grateful hearts thy mercy own, 
 That crowns once more their natal day, 
 
 Though War our fertile valleys stain, 
 Though Slaughter bare his gory hand, 
 
 Though Famine lead her ghastly train, 
 We glory in our native land. 
 
 Yes, 'tis our own, our fathers' home 
 Their ashes rest beneath the sod ; 
 
 The fields that now our children roam, 
 Their footsteps once as gladly trod. 
 
 Our hardy sons, who till the earth, 
 Undaunted still will danger face ; 
 
 The land that gave our fathers birth 
 Will never bear a coward race. 
 
240 HYMN FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY, 1813. 
 
 The gallant few, who plough the deep, 
 Can sternly meet the raging storm ; 
 
 And o'er the swelling ocean sweep 
 Unmoved at Danger's giant form. 
 
 But braver hearts have shrunk from fight 
 When kindred blood must dye the steel ; 
 
 The boldest to contend for right, 
 The ties of nature strongest feel. 
 
 Father, once more " good will " proclaim, 
 And bid conflicting passions cease ; 
 
 Repress each proud, ambitious aim, 
 And give thy suppliant children " peace." 
 
241 
 
 FICTION. 
 
 A POEM PREPARED AS AN EXERCISE FOR COMMENCEMENT, 
 1807. 
 
 BLEST be that power, whose cheering smile bestows 
 
 On sorrow joy, on weariness repose : 
 
 Blest be that power, whose influence can impart 
 
 A transient pleasure to the wounded heart. 
 
 While o'er the rugged paths of life we stray, 
 
 Heaven gave thee, Fancy, to illume our way. 
 
 Waked by thy breath, the poet's warbling tongue 
 
 Pours the full tide of rapture and of song. 
 
 When musing Memory dwells on sorrows near, 
 
 And fond Affection drops a plaintive tear ; 
 
 When sickening Conscience shrinks aghast from thought 
 
 When Honor drops the wreath his blood has bought ; 
 
 Then Hope, by Fancy led, dispels the sigh, 
 
 Fills the warm heart, and fires the sparkling eye. 
 
 Thus when the shades of night invest the pole, 
 And deepening clouds in awful grandeur roll ; 
 Fairest of stars, what joy attends thy ray, 
 The gem of morn, the harbinger of day. 
 
 31 
 
242 FICTION. 
 
 But chief to Fiction, Fancy's darling child, 
 
 Breathing in varied strains her visions wild, 
 
 When Care's stern glance has checked the flight of time, 
 
 We owe the song of joy, the strain sublime. 
 
 In orient colors drest, with wild flowers crowned, 
 
 She bids her lyre to every lay resound. 
 
 Now when the morning splendor gilds the scene, 
 
 Or evening sheds her mellow tints serene. 
 
 She melts the heart with some wild tale of woe, 
 
 And bids the silent tear of pity flow. 
 
 Anon, when darkness broods o'er all the ground, 
 
 And Danger's giant form stalks hideous round, 
 
 Of caves, and rocks, and forests drear she sings, 
 
 And with a hurried hand sweeps wildly o'er the strings. 
 
 In Gothic halls with ancient trophies drest, 
 
 When love and war alternate swayed the breast, 
 
 Romance arose ; amid the din of arms, 
 
 The trump of war, the battle's loud alarms, 
 
 Her youth was spent ; and oft at midnight hour 
 
 She traced the moss-grown walls, the ruined tower, 
 
 Where once Ambition held his bloody reign, 
 
 Or moody Madness clanked the hopeless chain ; 
 
 But now stern Ruin shakes its mouldering pride, 
 
 And columns sink beneath its whelming tide. 
 
 Then rising slowly from the marble tomb, 
 
 What haggard forms stalk threatening through the gloom ! 
 
 What shrieks of woe assail the startled ear, 
 
 Lo ! Murder's blasted front, and frantic Fear ! 
 
FICTION. 243 
 
 When first Religion roused the warrior band, 
 To drive the oppressor from the Holy Land, 
 Like ocean's billows rolled the hardy train, 
 And soon o'erwhelmed the pomp of Asia's reign. 
 When peace, wealth, glory crowned at length their toils, 
 At Beauty's feet they laid their hard-earned spoils. 
 Then Woman reigned supreme, her care refined, 
 And Love, Devotion, Glory ruled the mind. 
 Though from that time her lasting sway began, 
 She was the goddess, not the friend of man. 
 The haughty chieftain at her shrine adored, 
 But once possessed, the slave became the lord. 
 
 Yet, day of chivalry forever fled, 
 What tears for thee shall Love and Nature shed ? 
 Who now in passion pure, in taste refined, 
 To fancy's visions gives the glowing mind, 
 Since sordid Avarice calls on Hymen's name, 
 And dull Convenience lights the nuptial flame ? 
 
 Hail bard of Fancy, thou whose works sublime 
 Still roll in triumph down the stream of time, 
 Hail Ariosto ! still the trump of fame, 
 To distant ages will thy song proclaim ; 
 Though wildly great, thy daring Muse presumed 
 To search the deep where rebel sprites are doomed, 
 Though, raised to ecstacy, she rode sublime, 
 And boldly passed the bounds of place and time ; 
 
244 FICTION. 
 
 Yet most she loved along the mead to stray, 
 When smiling beaut} 7 marked the close of day, 
 And softly touching each responsive string, 
 Domestic joys, and virtuous love to sing. 
 Soothed with thy lay the lordly chieftain stood, 
 And dropt his lance no longer dyed in blood ; 
 In each fair form a Bradamant confessed, 
 And war's dire joys resigned for peaceful rest. 
 Thus Fiction conquered learning's barbarous foes, 
 Romantic legends gave the world repose. 
 
 Cervantes then, true nature to advance, 
 Began in knightly pride to wield his lance ; 
 He censured manners with a courtly smile, 
 And Folly stung to death but laughed the while. 
 Fiction then driven from Gothic towers and courts. 
 From gallant tournaments and warlike sports, 
 From desolating feuds and regal strife, 
 Fled to the humbler scenes of common life. 
 
 No more the daring chief, with eyes of fire, 
 Bids the quick flame consume the lofty spire ; 
 No castles sink, no towering arches fail, 
 No ruined columns murmur in the gale ; 
 But in some bower with smiling roses spread, 
 Where incense-breathing flowers their odors shed, 
 Lulled with the blandishment of tender strains, 
 The gentle youth bewails his amorous pains. 
 
FICTION. 245 
 
 The novel thus displayed her charming page, 
 
 And while she chastened humanized the age ; 
 
 She led her votaries through some conscious grove, 
 
 Where zephyrs sighed, and fountains murmured love. 
 
 To each strange tale she challenged their belief, 
 
 The bliss of poverty, the joy of grief. 
 
 Then fell the hapless child the prey of art, 
 
 The parent's feelings left the parent's heart ; 
 
 The cruel father then the slave of gold, 
 
 His daughter's happiness for lucre sold. 
 
 No pity soothes his unrelenting rage, 
 
 No sigh can move him, and no tears engage. 
 
 Delusive hope no longer cheers her soul, 
 
 In wild despair, she drains the fatal bowl ; 
 
 Or if, in poverty, life still has charms, 
 
 She flies for safety to her lover's arms ; 
 
 With him she speeds to some deserted cot, 
 
 And dwells in perfect bliss the world forgot. 
 
 Are these the themes which now engage the mind, 
 Are these the works which prove our taste refined ? 
 What parent would unfold the flattering page, 
 To form the morals of the rising age ? 
 Where Virtue dwells along with palsied years, 
 And Vice in every winning form appears ; 
 Where home-bred happiness is made to cloy, 
 While bolder pleasure rides the streams of joy. 
 
246 FICTION. 
 
 Ye who in females prize refined sense, 
 
 The charms of wit with infant innocence. 
 
 The blush of modesty, the joys of truth, 
 
 The native beauties of ingenuous youth, 
 
 Oh, banish from their eyes the fatal page ; 
 
 The tales of Love too soon their thoughts engage. 
 
 In life's bright morn, what snares their paths beset ! 
 
 The heart's warm wishes see not Pleasure's net ; 
 
 Oh, spare the flower ; nor let the worm concealed 
 
 To dust its opening beauteous blossoms yield ! 
 
 Yet there are some who lead to Virtue's shrine, 
 Who raise the feelings, and the taste refine ; 
 Who mark the varying manners of the age, 
 Devote to Virtue's cause their deathless page, 
 Mark Heaven's kind hand protecting the forlorn, 
 And doom the prosperous knave to endless scorn. 
 Mackenzie such thy tales, and Goldsmith thine, 
 Where taste and nature stamp each well-drawn line 
 Your fancy, learning, worth shall stand confessed, 
 While Nature charms, and Virtue fires the breast. 
 
 One theme remains, whose rapture-breathing page 
 Charms artless youth, and soothes declining age. 
 Child of the morn, from care and sorrow free, 
 How shah 1 I speak thy praise, sweet Poesy ? 
 For me, alas ! no streams inspiring flow, 
 No fancy kindles, and no raptures glow ; 
 
FICTION 247 
 
 With sacred awe, I view the poet's fane, 
 And pant for honors I can ne'er attain ; 
 Yet still with trembling steps I love to stray, 
 And muse, in silence, on the heaven-taught lay. 
 
 What joys can pleasure, grandeur, wealth afford, 
 Or all the gewgaws by the world adored, 
 To lure the poet from his rapturous dream, 
 His airy visions, and his heavenly theme ? 
 Is there a man so vile, whose sordid soul 
 Would spurn the joys of Fancy's high control, 
 And plunge at once in pleasure's headlong stream, 
 Bought with the loss of virtuous self-esteem ? 
 Or still more vile, renounce the heaven-sped hour, 
 To toil for lucre, or to cringe for power ? 
 
 No we will live unstained by venal praise, 
 We court not Folly for her proffered lays ; 
 Grant us, just Heaven, whatever else denied, 
 That self-esteem, that noble, generous pride, 
 That scorns the incense that from fools arise, 
 And looks to God alone for virtue's prize. 
 
 But yet too oft our early prospects fly, 
 And all our hopes of lasting glory die ; 
 When lost to fame, we court the myrtle shade, 
 And pluck the laurel, but to see it fade. 
 Oh ! may no Syren lure us from our way, 
 Nor fancied pleasure lead our steps astray ; 
 
248 FICTION. 
 
 But while the high reward of toil we claim, 
 Pursue the path of virtue and of fame ; 
 Then will our hearts forever glow with joy, 
 No pleasure satiate, no fruition cloy. 
 
 1807. 
 
249 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 SLOW sweeps the northern blast 
 
 Along the dreary way ; 
 
 While, from the ice-bound streams, 
 
 The chilling moon-beams play ; 
 Yet still I love to linger here, 
 While sad remembrance claims a tear 
 For joys, which youthful fancy brought, 
 When pleasure stamped each glowing thought. 
 
 Ah ! then what scenes arose ! 
 
 What pleasures thrilled the breast ! 
 
 How beamed the distant world, 
 
 In dazzling splendor drest ! 
 
 Ambition waked each dormant power, 
 While Fancy lured me to her bower ; 
 Hope's day-star beamed ; the flattering ray 
 Presaged a bright, a prosperous day. 
 
 32 
 
250 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 But now the scene how changed ! 
 
 What clouds of darkness roll ! 
 
 Cold each aspiring thought ; 
 
 The winter of the soul ! 
 
 No more my bosom swells with joy, 
 No flattering scenes my thoughts employ 
 But hopes, once fondly cherished, seem 
 The phantoms of a feverish dream. 
 
 Thou God of all, whose power 
 The elements obey ; 
 Save me from Passion's rage, 
 From Pleasure's maddening sway ! 
 
 Thou seest my heart with rapture glow, 
 Thou seest my life-blood swiftly flow, 
 When Fancy, Pleasure, Passion, fire, 
 Reason too weak to rule desire. 
 Ah ! when, from all illusion free, 
 Shall every hope be placed in Thee ! 
 
251 
 
 " Apr6s ma mort, quand toutes mes parties 
 
 Par la corruption sont an6anties, 
 
 Par un m6me destin il ne pensera plus ! " 
 
 Grand. 
 
 ARE these the dictates of eternal truth ? 
 
 These the glad news your boasted reason brings ? 
 Can these control the restless fire of youth, 
 
 The craft of statesmen, or the pride of kings ? 
 
 Whence is the throb that swells my rising breast, 
 What lofty hopes my beating heart inspire ? 
 
 Why do I proudly spurn inglorious rest, 
 The pomp of wealth, the tumult of desire ? 
 
 Is it to swell the brazen trump of fame, 
 To bind the laurel round an aching head, 
 
 To hear for once a people's loud acclaim, 
 Then lie for ever with the nameless dead ? 
 
 Oh no ! far nobler hopes my life control, 
 Presenting scenes of splendor, yet to be ; 
 
 Great God, thy word directs the lofty soul, 
 To live for glory, not from man, but thee. 
 
252 
 
 THE PURSE OF CHARITY. 
 
 THIS little purse, of silver thread 
 
 And silken cord entwined, 
 Was given, to ease the painful bed, 
 
 And soothe the anxious mind. 
 
 The maker's secret bounty flows, 
 
 To bid the poor rejoice, 
 And many a child of sorrow knows 
 
 The music of her voice. 
 
 The little purse her hands have wrought, 
 Should bear her image still ; 
 
 And with her generous feelings fraught, 
 Her liberal plans fulfil. 
 
 Its glittering thread should never daunt 
 
 The humble child of woe ; 
 But well the asking eye of want 
 
 Its silver spring should know. 
 
THE PURSE OF CHARITY. 253 
 
 While age or youth with misery dwell, 
 
 To cold neglect consigned, 
 No useless treasures e'er should swell 
 
 The purse with silver twined. 
 
 1813. 
 
254 
 
 GREAT God, at midnight's solemn hour, 
 1 own thy goodness and thy power ; 
 
 But bending low before thy throne, 
 I pray not for myself alone. 
 
 I pray for her, my dearest friend, 
 For her, my fervent prayers ascend ; 
 
 And while to thee my vows I bring, 
 For her my warmest wishes spring. 
 
 While dark and silent rolls the night, 
 Protect her with thy heavenly might ; 
 
 Thy curtain round her pillow spread, 
 And circling angels guard her bed. 
 
 Let peaceful slumbers press her eyes, 
 Till morning beams in splendor rise j 
 
 And pure and radiant as that beam, 
 Be the light vision of her dream. 
 
 Let each succeeding morn impart 
 New pleasures to her tranquil heart ; 
 
 And richer blessings crown the night, 
 Than met the view at morning light. 
 
255 
 
 Whate'er my swelling heart desires, 
 
 When fervent prayer to Heaven aspires, 
 
 Whate'er has warmed my fancy's glow, 
 May she, with tenfold richness, know. 
 
 O God, may she thy laws fulfil, 
 And live, and die, thy favorite still ; 
 
 Live, to enjoy thy bounteous hand, 
 And die, to join the seraph band. 
 
 1814. 
 
256 
 
 FAREWELL to the year that is passing away, 
 
 Farewell to its hopes and its fears ; 
 It matters not now whether sober or gay, 
 
 For alike are its smiles and its tears. 
 
 Ere Spring's early blush had the blossom unclosed, 
 From the home of my father I strayed ; 
 
 On ocean's wild billows I safely reposed, 
 For stronger than man was my aid. 
 
 I wandered from cities of wealth and repose, 
 
 To Glory's all-desolate scene ; 
 Where Carnage sits bloated, and Havock still glows, 
 
 Where Murder and Rapine had been. 
 
 From garden to castle, from dungeon to bower, 
 
 My eyes were delighted to roam ; 
 But stray where I would, through palace or tower, 
 
 My heart was still beating for home. 
 
 Then hail to the home which receives me again, 
 And hail to the friends who endear it ! 
 
 And hail the New Year ! with its pleasure and pain 
 And blessings on her who 's to cheer it ! 
 
 December 31, 1815. 
 
257 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 I LOVE the dews of night, 
 
 I love the howling wind ; 
 I love to hear the tempests sweep 
 
 'er the billows of the deep ! 
 
 For nature's saddest scenes delight 
 The melancholy mind. 
 
 Autumn ! I love thy bower 
 
 With faded garlands drest ; 
 How sweet, alone to linger there, 
 When tempests ride the midnight air ! 
 
 To snatch from mirth a fleeting hour, 
 The sabbath of the breast ! 
 
 Autumn ! I love thee well ; 
 
 Though bleak thy breezes blow, 
 
 1 love to see the vapors rise, 
 
 And clouds roll wildly round the skies, 
 Where from the plain, the mountains swell, 
 And foaming torrents flow. 
 
 33 
 
258 AUTUMN. 
 
 Autumn ! thy fading flowers 
 
 Droop but to bloom again ; 
 So man, though doomed to grief awhile, 
 To hang on Fortune's fickle smile, 
 
 Shall glow in heaven with nobler powers, 
 Nor sigh for peace in vain. 
 
259 
 
 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 WHILE, lowly bending round the sacred shrine, 
 The pious throng their common faith declare, 
 
 Lady, a friend whose warmest wish is thine, 
 
 Breathed to his God, for thee, this fervent prayer : 
 
 " Soft may the dews of heavenly grace descend, 
 Fill her warm heart, wherever doomed to roam, 
 
 From every latent snare her path defend ; 
 God and good angels guide her to his home. 
 
 "And when the morn unfolds her purple wings, 
 Till sober evening spreads her mantling shade, 
 
 May heart-felt peace, from faith and hope that springs, 
 Through life's still varying scenes her breast pervade. 
 
 " And at the last and closing scene of life, 
 May hope exulting, faith resigned be given ; 
 
 O spare her parting soul a painful strife, 
 And short and easy be her path to heaven." 
 
260 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 T was thus he prayed. Nor blame the fervent strain ; 
 
 Cold were his heart, if silent and unmoved, 
 In God's own house, it could an hour remain, 
 
 Nor breathe its wishes for the friends he loved. 
 
261 
 
 THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 THE weary traveller, destined long to roam, 
 
 Far from his early friends and cheerful home, 
 
 If chance, some mountain swells before his sight, 
 
 Strains every nerve, and scales its towering height. 
 
 One moment stops, his wanderings past to view, 
 
 His dangers, errors, hopes, and comforts too ; 
 
 Dwells on the spot, which Pleasure strewed with flowers, 
 
 And shudders still at Peril's darker hours ; 
 
 Surveys the past with sad or thoughtful mind, 
 
 And hopes the future, anxious, but resigned. 
 
 Thus on the day which marks the opening year, 
 Though pure our joys, and bright our hopes appear ; 
 Though for our friends our warmest wishes rise, 
 And earnest prayers and vows salute the skies ; 
 Though gay Festivity will oft beguile, 
 From Sorrow's settled gloom, a passing smile ; 
 Still on the former, pensive looks we cast, 
 And wish each year more happy than the last. 
 
262 THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 More than the last ! Yes : Conscience knows too well 
 The pains she suffers, but can never tell 1 ; 
 The hours of sloth, which passed unheeded by. 
 Now rise and swell before the unwilling eye. 
 The hours of passion why should Memory turn 
 To hours like these, which still excite and burn ? 
 The hours of passion, be they joy or pain, 
 Leave on the heart some sad or sinful stain. 
 
 More than the last ! Ah, where was manly pride, 
 By labor cherished, and to fame allied ? 
 Where was the firm resolve, the noble aim, 
 The vigorous effort, and the rising name ? 
 
 In happier days, when health and sight were mine ; 
 When youthful Ardor sketched the bold design ; 
 When strong Ambition urged the daily toil, 
 And Hope unflagging spent the midnight oil ; 
 How revelled Thought, in Fancy's glowing reign ! 
 Visions of glory, rise no more in vain ! 
 
 But, " 'T is thy will," meek Resignation cries ; 
 " The shaft flies low, which aims beneath the skies ; 
 There raise thy hopes, let bold Ambition tower, 
 And spurn the summits of imperial power. 
 Thine be the cares which dignify the good, 
 Submissive passions, and a will subdued ; 
 Thine be the hope which, raised to joys sublime, 
 Springs from the earth, and triumphs over time." 
 
THE NEW YEAR. 263 
 
 But has not earthly hope some favorite theme, 
 Some glowing vision, some delightful dream ? 
 
 Yes, dear , thanks to thee, one ray 
 
 Now beams, and brightens into broader day ; 
 A day of ceaseless sunshine, which no storm 
 Shall e'er obscure, no passing cloud deform. 
 
 When laughing Pleasure shrinks from palsied Age, 
 And mirth and song no more his ear engage ; 
 When tired Ambition dares his pangs avow, 
 And laureled Pride unbinds his aching brow ; 
 Still pure Affection lives, her winning art 
 Can warm, and fill, and animate the heart. 
 
 Come then, Improvement, greet the opening year 
 With tempered ardor, but with vows sincere ; 
 Leave vain regrets, and onward urge thy course, 
 With strong Decision's persevering force. 
 Pursue the steep ascent by sages trod, 
 And learn, from social love, the love of God ; 
 With mild Affection dwell, and blessing, blest, 
 Receive, and give, the sunshine of the breast. 
 
 Dec. 31, 1814. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE, 
 
 34 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO A FRIEND. 
 
 Portsmouth, March 16, 1809. 
 
 * * * I HAVE always been partial to the grand and solemn 
 scenery of a mountainous country. Like most other per- 
 sons of dull perception, I have been more affected with the 
 sublime, than the beautiful. The roaring of a torrent has 
 given me more pleasure than the music of birds ; and I have 
 often stopped to view the gathering of a storm, till I have 
 been overtaken by its fury. There is nothing, I am firmly 
 convinced, so favorable to genius, or taste, or virtue, as 
 the contemplation of nature, either in her grand or beauti- 
 ful appearances. Above all, it is favorable to piety. There 
 is no one, deserving the name of man, who can view " the 
 stars in their courses," without adoring their Creator. It 
 inspires a feeling equally removed from arrogance and fear. 
 " When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers ; 
 the moon and stars, which thou hast ordained ; what is man, 
 that thou art mindful of him ? " and yet to be assured that 
 He is mindful of him, conveys a happiness, that the world 
 cannot give. 
 
268 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 A few evenings ago, I took a solitary ramble out of town. 
 
 The stars were more brilliant than usual ; and they soon 
 
 
 
 fixed my attention. I thought of the hour which awaits us 
 all ; when I should be as little interested in the business of 
 the world, as in the most distant star that glimmered in the 
 heavens. I thought of the friends who had gone before 
 me, and of those, more dear, whom I should leave behind ; 
 but I blessed God for the hope of meeting them in another 
 world. I can never believe that the eye, which has watch- 
 ed over us here, will ever be indifferent to our fate ; or that 
 the heart, which has once glowed with friendship, will ever 
 lose its tenderness. The mind cannot embrace a more 
 pleasing thought, than that our affections are ripening for 
 eternity. Perhaps our friends are permitted to watch our 
 conduct, to direct our feelings, to guide us to Heaven. 
 Perhaps, when we have grasped a hand stiffened in death, 
 that hand will soon be extended over us, to protect us from 
 danger. I love to indulge such thoughts. They may be 
 illusory ; but they destroy many of the evils of life, without 
 diminishing its pleasures. * * * 
 
 Portsmouth, September, 1809. 
 
 You must not be frightened, dear , at the appear- 
 ance of large paper and close writing. I am accustomed to 
 write long letters to every body ; but as you have the larg- 
 est share of my affections, you must even take the most of 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 269 
 
 ray thoughts. Have you had no time to write me any 
 thing of your journey ? You have travelled through the 
 pleasantest part of New England, and though your imagina- 
 tion may be captivated by the description of European 
 landscapes, rest assured that the banks of the Connecticut 
 are equal to any thing in the world. Travellers are apt to 
 give the reins to fancy, and many a dull and barren heath 
 has " lived in description, and looked green in song." You 
 have seen Bellows Falls in Vermont. It is really a sublime 
 object, and to the eye of an Englishman a wonderful one. 
 But compare your own perceptions with the account given 
 of it in Morse's Geography, and learn from thence to distrust 
 the accounts of travellers. The romantic scenery of Staf- 
 ford, were it in England, would employ the pen of a thou- 
 sand poets, and the pencil of as many painters. In America 
 it is scarcely known, or if noticed, is soon forgotten. I men- 
 tion this, that you may avoid a very common error ; one 
 which I entertained for many years. We are so much accus- 
 tomed to seek perfection in Europe, that when we read the 
 works of an European, we are charmed with his descrip- 
 tions, and think that nothing can surpass them ; forgetting that 
 our chamber windows discover a prospect quite as beautiful 
 and sublime. This subject deserves more attention. It is 
 confessed by the most prejudiced Europeans, that, in Amer- 
 ica, the works of nature are on a grander scale than in the 
 old world. An English lake with us would be a pond ; an 
 English mountain would scarcely be called a hill ; and the 
 Tweed, the Severn, and the Dee, (rivers immortalized by 
 the English poets) in America would be brooks without a 
 
270 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 name. The consequence is, that we become so familiar 
 with the sublime, as to overlook the beautiful. We see 
 no charms in a field of waving corn, a grove of oaks, or a 
 sparkling brook, which would fill an Englishman with de- 
 light. One great evil results from this error ; we lose all 
 relish for the works of nature, while we imagine that some- 
 thing infinitely superior to what we see is to be found in 
 foreign countries. The poets, indeed, with a natural par- 
 tiality, have celebrated their native country. The ques- 
 tion is not whether English scenes are beautiful, but wheth- 
 er American ones are not more so. Those who have seen 
 the Lake of Constance, and the Bay of Naples, (confessed- 
 ly the most beautiful scenes in Europe) say, that there are 
 views in New England, at least, quite as beautiful. You 
 will probably think that I have said enough upon this sub- 
 ject, but I am anxious to convince you. The love of Na- 
 ture never can exist, when we believe that we are indulging 
 a false taste in admiring her. I wish you to love your 
 country, and to impress her scenes deeply upon your mem- 
 ory. And such a country too ! such an admirable union of 
 beautiful and sublime, of hills and valleys, of mountains and 
 floods ! The heart must be cold indeed that would not 
 love it. 
 
 I scarcely know a more beautiful scene than the banks 
 of Connecticut river at sunrise ; when the mist is rolling 
 in clouds down the stream, their edges just skirted with 
 gold, and amusing the fancy with the thousand fantastic ap- 
 pearances they assume. Last summer, when returning 
 from Vermont, I often recalled the fine description of Dr. 
 Beattie, and applied it to the scenery round me. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 271 
 
 " And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, 
 When all in mist the world below was lost. 
 What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublime, 
 Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast, 
 And view th' enormous waste of vapor, tossed 
 In billows, lengthening to th' horizon round, 
 Now scooped in gulfs, with mountains now embossed ! 
 And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, 
 Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound ! " 
 
 I am anxious, my dear , and even importunate, upon 
 
 this subject. The imagination must be cultivated, as well 
 as corrected. It is susceptible of as much improvement as 
 the memory or judgment. A warm imagination and a cor- 
 rect taste are the best preservatives of a good heart and a 
 Christian temper. Think you that the country girls, whom 
 you met, enjoyed the beauties of nature with half the de- 
 light that you did ? If, then, your imagination is already so 
 superior, think what it might be. Think what an unfailing 
 source of pleasure you may make it ; and above all, think 
 how much more susceptible of the best feelings of the 
 heart, of feelings of devotion, an habitual exercise of the 
 imagination will make you. If you ask how this is to be 
 done, I answer : When you are reading poetry, place the 
 images before you, close the book, and imagine yourself 
 looking upon a picture. If the description be really a good 
 one, the image will be distinct, the landscape will glow be- 
 fore you. If you find yourself unable to form a distinct 
 picture, it is a proof that the poetry is bad. Again, when 
 you are enjoying a fine prospect, accustom yourself to dis- 
 criminate its beauties ; " I am delighted with the gentle swell 
 of that hill, with the waving of that tree, with the fleecy 
 
272 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 whiteness of that cloud, which is sailing across the sky." 
 You will be surprised to find how much your pleasure will 
 be increased and your taste improved by this attention, 
 which at the same time requires little or no mental effort. 
 
 Let me advise you to recollect frequently every incident 
 of your journey, and, if possible, every person whom you 
 have seen. It is a kind of knowledge, not very brilliant in- 
 deed, but very useful. Conversation cannot be always 
 either entertaining or instructive. You will frequently meet 
 with persons too old, or too sober, for innocent gaiety, and 
 too ignorant for improving conversation. With such persons 
 you may pass an hour in talking upon subjects in which 
 they can be interested. No kind of knowledge is beneath 
 your notice. You must read " Coelebs," if it falls in your 
 way. But do not get into a habit of various and desultory 
 reading. When you have begun to read a book-, finish it, 
 although it should not be worth the perusal. The habit of 
 reading a little in a book, and then throwing it aside, is very 
 destructive to literary taste and mental improvement. It 
 were better to read nothing. * * * 
 
 Conway, N. H. September 12, 1811. 
 DEAR , 
 
 WE have just returned from an excursion to the 
 summit of the White Hills. We left this house on Tues- 
 day morning early, accompanied by three guides, and rode 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 373 
 
 twelve miles over the plains of Pickwacket to the last settle- 
 ment in the town of Adams. We then dismounted, strip- 
 ped ourselves of every thing superfluous, and exchanged 
 our coats for flannel jackets. Proceeding through the 
 woods on foot, we crossed East River and Ellis River with 
 several of their branches, and, at the distance of eight miles, 
 came to New River, the principal branch of the Saco. 
 We forded it at the foot of the most noble cascade in New 
 England. The stream is about thirty feet wide, and falls 
 three hundred feet nearly perpendicular. The hill over 
 which it rolls is so steep, that I had great difficulty in climb- 
 ing a short distance on my hands and knees. At this time 
 we began to ascend the mountain. We travelled in a 
 southwesterly direction about three miles, continually as- 
 cending. About five o'clock we prepared to encamp for 
 the night. A spot was chosen by the side of a brook, 
 where there was a sufficient quantity of wood. By laying 
 some poles against a tree, and covering them with branches 
 of spruce, we formed a lodge, large enough to shelter our 
 heads from the dew. A large fire was then kindled in 
 front, and several trees set on fire around us, to frighten 
 away the bears and moose, which are said to inhabit these 
 mountains. We hung a brass kettle over the fire, and, 
 when the water boiled, made some tea in it, which was 
 handed round in a tin quart. Our guides supped heartily 
 on salt pork broiled on the coals. As soon as it was dark, 
 we wrapped ourselves each in a blanket, and lay down 
 with our feet toward the fire, and our heads under the 
 lodge. We passed a tolerably comfortable night, though it 
 
 35 
 
274 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 was very cold, and our bed rather hard. At day-break the 
 next morning, we took a hasty meal, and again ascended 
 about two miles, to what is called " the end of growth." 
 From New River upwards, the trees, which were generally 
 spruce and white birch, continually decreased in size, until 
 they terminated in shrub spruce about a foot high. From 
 this place you ascend about half a mile, over the mountain 
 cranberry and bunch-berry vines, to a sort of plain, which 
 is the base of Mount Washington. This summit is a huge 
 mass of rocks, five thousand five hundred feet high, thrown 
 loosely together, without an ounce of earth or a single plant 
 to cheer the barrenness of the prospect. The stones are 
 not larger than those usually employed in stone walls. Af- 
 ter two hours of intense labor we reached the summit. 
 Very fortunately the day was clear, though a good deal of 
 smoke rested on the mountains around us. My first sen- 
 sation, on looking around me, was that of vastness, a feel- 
 ing too indistinct to be described, though too strong to be 
 forgotten. On the north, our prospect was bounded by a 
 lofty range of mountains in Canada, on the west, by the 
 Green Mountains of Vermont, on the south, by Monad- 
 nock and the mountains of Massachusetts ; on the east and 
 northeast, the chain of mountains upon which we stood 
 was continued as far as the eye could trace them. We 
 could not discern the ocean, though on very clear days it 
 is visible. We saw at a distance Lake Winnipisiogee, over 
 which a cloud of vapors was rolling ; and we traced the 
 course of the Connecticut, Ameriscoggin, and Saco by the 
 fogs which rested upon them. Of these rivers, the Ameris- 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 275 
 
 coggin, though most distant, appeared the largest. The 
 summit of Mount Washington is supposed to be above ten 
 thousand feet above the level of the ocean. It is so contin- 
 ually surrounded with clouds, that our principal guide, who 
 had been up eight times, never but once before was able 
 to discern any object more than ten rods distant. It was 
 perfectly fair while we remained upon it, and not very cold. 
 We saw the vapors rise from the rivers below us in distinct 
 masses ; they quickly attracted each other, formed clouds, 
 and rolled up the sides of the mountain with astonishing 
 rapidity. We spent about an hour upon the summit, when 
 our extreme thirst obliged us to descend. This was a per- 
 ilous attempt ; for a single false step would have hurried us 
 to the foot of the mountain. Where we met any moss, we 
 slid over it, and crept over the rocks on our hands and 
 knees. We arrived at the region of dwarf spruce about 
 one o'clock, without accident. Snatching a short meal, we 
 continued our descent through the woods, which we effect- 
 ed so rapidly, that we arrived at New River by three 
 o'clock. Finding ourselves not much fatigued, we hasten- 
 ed through the forest, mounted our horses, and rode home 
 before eight o'clock, having travelled fifty-two miles, twen- 
 ty-six of them on foot, over the loftiest mountain in New 
 England.f * * * 
 
 t Mr. Haven twice made an excursion to the White Mountains ; 
 the first time in 1811, with a party of gentlemen, when he as- 
 cended Mount Washington ; the second time in 1814, when he 
 travelled with ladies and gentlemen. 
 
276 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 WRITTEN IN EXPECTATION OF VISITING EUROPE, IN APRIL, 
 1812. 
 
 MY DEAR , 
 
 TILL the hour of separation approached so near, I 
 was hardly aware how much I loved you. Though I may 
 have sometimes been impatient, it has always been my 
 warmest wish to see you happy, and happy too from your 
 own resources, independent of external circumstances. I 
 cannot give you a stronger proof of affection, than by point- 
 ing out freely and explicitly what I think your faults and 
 your dangers, which appear to me to arise from the same 
 source. * * * You have a heart formed for friend- 
 ship and affection ; and I pray most fervently, that your 
 best feelings may never be chilled by indifference or un- 
 kindness. But, at present, your sensibility is too acute 
 for your happiness. You must be content to live with your 
 companions, in the habitual exercise of kindness and civili- 
 ty, without expecting very strong affection in return, and 
 you must never suffer yourself to sink into gloom or despon- 
 dency. When you find that your mind dwells upon melan- 
 choly images, and that the efforts you make to change the 
 current of your thoughts are unsuccessful, it is time to re- 
 sort to other remedies, to exercise, to social intercourse, 
 but, above all, to prayer. To cultivate cheerfulness and 
 tranquillity of mind is as much a religious duty, as to pre- 
 serve moral honesty. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 377 
 
 In your literary pursuits, read but few works of imagina- 
 tion. Your imagination, at present, needs no excitement ; 
 but if you read poetry (as you doubtless will), beware of 
 the fashionable sing-song of the day. Good poetry is a 
 rare article, and good taste almost as uncommon. If you 
 read much of what daily issues from the press, which has 
 scarcely any pretensions even to rhyme, you will lose all 
 power of discrimination. Rhyme is not poetry. Think of 
 this when you take up a volume of poems, and you will soon 
 find how small the number is of those, who deserve that 
 title. Milton and Pope are the two great masters of Eng- 
 lish verse. If you can read and relish these, you are safe. 
 You may then read Wordsworth and Southey and Robinson, 
 if you can. I am particularly earnest in this. A good 
 taste is the guardian of good morals. If you love to read 
 Milton, you will love all that is great and sublime in nature 
 and art. Milton's imagination is always full ; and whatever 
 may be his subject, he never fails to fill the imagination of 
 his readers. But I would not conceal from you his faults. 
 In reading the " Paradise Lost," you will frequently lose 
 your interest in the poem. The ostentation of learning will 
 disgust you, and the long metaphysical disquisitions will fa- 
 tigue your patience. But these are spots on the sun. I 
 do not know a greater pleasure than that of reading over, 
 for the thousandth time, some exquisite passage of poetry. 
 But read and judge for yourself. 
 
 Pope is the poet of common sense, and, in my opinion, 
 the prince of harmony. Succeeding poets attempted to 
 improve upon his versification ; but they lost his strength, 
 
278 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 and substituted a kind of drawling monotony, about as mu- 
 sical as a tune with one note. Goldsmith and Rogers have 
 made their verses exceedingly smooth, but Darwin and his 
 whole tribe of imitators are absolutely insufferable. * * * 
 I do not intend always to write to you in this style of in- 
 struction. But I wish my letters to be of some advantage 
 to you. I have thrown together these few remarks without 
 any premeditation, and without reading what I have writ- 
 ten. Place your happiness in possessing a well regulated 
 mind and imagination, and in cultivating the affections of 
 your family. While you are resigned under inevitable 
 evils, endeavour to be cheerful even amid the trials of life, 
 and I am confident you will be both virtuous and happy. 
 
 Farewell, and may God bless you. 
 
 1812. 
 
 You have often complained of the treachery of your 
 memory. Though I do not give entire credit to your as- 
 sertions, for I believe that your humility has misled your 
 judgment, I offer for your use a few remarks, which my 
 own experience has suggested. A moment's reflection will 
 convince you that memory depends upon attention. Every 
 thing connected with the passions is long remembered, be- 
 cause deeply felt. For the same reason, whatever is new 
 or uncommon will be remembered, as novelty creates a 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 279 
 
 temporary interest, which rouses the attention. The great 
 difficulty is to excite, and fix it, at our pleasure. It is not 
 always in our own power, I confess, to attend to any partic- 
 ular object ; but repeated exertions will certainly succeed. 
 Lord Bacon has remarked, that we commit a poem to 
 memory sooner, by reading it three or four times with an 
 attempt to repeat it after each, than by reading it a dozen 
 times without such exertion. Attention, too, depends 
 much upon habit. The great mischief of novel-reading, 
 beside the misimprovement of time, is, that it accustoms 
 our minds to receive ideas without exertion. In reading a 
 novel, we attend to little beside the narrative ; and we are 
 generally satisfied, if we keep up the thread of the story to 
 the end of the volume. This pernicious habit we carry 
 with us to our serious studies ; and we frequently close a 
 volume of history, as ignorant of its contents, as if it were 
 the lightest novel that ever issued from the press. 
 
 You must not be discouraged, if, on commencing a new 
 study, you find your memory apparently dull and treacher- 
 ous. The mind does not easily accommodate itself to a new 
 class of objects ; but if you continue your exertions, you will 
 find its reluctance to be every day diminished. If there is 
 any thing which you are peculiarly apt to forget, determine 
 to remember it by every possible means. Connect it with 
 something which you will certainly remember, and endeav- 
 our not to think of the one without recalling the other. 
 
 I cannot urge upon you too strongly the importance of 
 cultivating general habits of attention. Give your whole 
 mind to whatever is the business of the hour. Read noth- 
 
280 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 ing that you are not determined to remember, and there- 
 fore read nothing that is not worth remembering. I am not 
 certain that absolute idleness is not better, for every intellec- 
 tual purpose, than indolent reading. <( Nothing," says 
 Stewart, " has such a tendency to weaken, not only the 
 powers of invention, but the intellectual powers in general, 
 as a habit of extensive and various reading without reflec- 
 tion." The divided attention we often give to discourses 
 at church, is a habit very injurious to the memory. We 
 suffer our imagination to make a short excursion, and then 
 recall it to the sermon, without seriously determining to fol- 
 low one or the other. In this irresolute state, we neither 
 attend to our own thoughts nor to the preacher ; and we re- 
 turn home with our ideas confused, and our impressions too 
 indistinct to be remembered. 
 
 has often asked me, " What shall I attempt to re- 
 member ? In reading a book, what principle of selection 
 shall I adopt ? " In reply I have told her, that the end of 
 study was not so much to treasure up particular facts, as to 
 obtain an active and vigorous mind. It is of little conse- 
 quence to you, as a daughter or a friend, to know that 
 Alexander conquered, and that Cassar died ; but it is of im- 
 portance, that you should have an elegant taste, a correct 
 judgment, and an active, inquisitive mind. You learn to 
 dance, not to figure in a ball-room, but to acquire graceful 
 habits. You read, not to have an opportunity of talking 
 about books and displaying your learning, but to have a 
 well disciplined mind for the ordinary business of life. 
 For this reason I have thought, that well written biography 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 281 
 
 was of more practical benefit than history. From the lives 
 of eminent men, you can collect many hints for your own 
 conduct, and many rules which may be reduced to daily 
 practice. 
 
 But history, which relates the political lives of men, is 
 chiefly designed to form the statesman. It has its use, 
 however, to all. It affords an agreeable entertainment, ex- 
 ercises the passions, forms the judgment, furnishes senti- 
 ments of virtue, and impresses upon the mind maxims of 
 morality. You will therefore make the best use of history, 
 when you consider it as a picture of the living world ; when 
 you reflect upon the conduct of men of other times, and 
 other countries, as you discuss the characters of your ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 In reading a volume of history, it is not all-important to 
 remember the series of kings nor the dates of battles. It 
 is best not to neglect these entirely ; but your attention 
 should be chiefly directed to the changes of manners and 
 opinions, to the progress of knowledge, of toleration, and re- 
 finement, and to the effect which these have severally pro- 
 duced upon the morals and happiness of mankind. * * * 
 
 Vale of LlangoUen, North Wales, May 19, 1815. 
 
 THIS day has been so rich in enjoyment, my dear , 
 
 that I cannot go to bed, without attempting to make you ac- 
 quainted with it, while the impression is still fresh upon my 
 
 36 
 
282 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 mind. I pass over, for the present, every thing which has 
 taken place from our arrival at Liverpool, on the twelfth, to 
 last evening. About five o'clock, yesterday afternoon, Mr. 
 and Mrs. and myself set out in two post- 
 chaises, from Chester, the most ancient city in England. 
 At dusk we reached Holywell, where we passed the night. 
 
 Early this morning, and myself visited the Well 
 
 of St. Winifred, which gives the name to the town. It is 
 the most beautiful spring I ever saw, and wells out with 
 astonishing rapidity. The printed account (believe it who 
 will) says, it throws out one hundred tons of water in a min- 
 ute. The legend is very ridiculous ; but I will endeavour 
 to abbreviate it. The valley was formerly very dry and 
 sandy ; so much so, that it was called by a Welsh name, 
 which signifies " the dry vale." It was inhabited by a pi- 
 ous Bishop, named Beuno, who built a church at the bot- 
 tom of the hill. His niece Winifred consecrated herself to 
 the service of God, and vowed never to marry. She was 
 however addressed by a Pagan prince, named Cradoc, who, 
 finding her obstinate in her refusal, was so enraged, that he 
 pursued her to the top of the hill, and then severed her 
 head from her body, with one blow of his sword. The 
 head rolled down into the valley, and when it stopped, this 
 beautiful spring gushed out and washed away the blood. 
 Bishop Beuno, being a man of great sanctity, took up the 
 head and carried it to the body, to which it was immediate- 
 ly united. The impious Cradoc was swallowed up by an 
 earthquake ; while the body of St. Winifred survived the 
 catastrophe five years. All this, you will say, is but fiction. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 283 
 
 What follows is real. Over the well is erected a beautiful 
 gothic building of red stone, which was built by the Count- 
 ess of Richmond, the mother of Henry the Seventh. The 
 roof is most exquisitely carved. The building is about thirty 
 or forty feet in diameter, and about twenty feet high. The 
 water is the most pellucid I ever saw, and is celebrated for 
 the cure of various diseases ; but it is most remarkable for 
 giving uncontrolled authority in married life. Whatsoever 
 man or woman, says the legend, shall first drink of this 
 water, immediately acquires unlimited sway at home. Un- 
 fortunately its efficacy is confined to married people ; I 
 drank freely, however, by way of prevention. 
 
 After breakfast we left Holywell and proceeded to Den- 
 bigh. The modern town stands at the foot of a steep and 
 precipitous hill, on the top of which are the ruins of Denbigh 
 Castle, which are visible for several miles on every side. 
 The outer wall of the castle, which inclosed the old town, is 
 nearly two miles in circumference. Large masses of it re- 
 main in four or five different places. The front gate of the 
 castle is still entire, and is from nine to twelve feet thick. 
 Three or four towers also remain, and one of the gate-ways 
 of the old town. It is a most magnificent ruin. The castle 
 was built by Edward the First, in 1280, and overlooks the 
 whole Vale of Clwyd, which extends twenty-six miles in 
 length, and lies far, very far, below the castle. We next 
 proceeded through this paradise, which is more exquisitely 
 beautiful than any language of mine can describe, to Ruthin. 
 Here we found the ruins of another magnificent castle, 
 covering perhaps twenty acres, which was built by Roger 
 
284 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Gray, in the reign of Edward the Fourth. From Ruthin 
 we ascended the mountains about seven miles, till we had 
 left grass and cultivation far behind us, and found only quar- 
 ries of slate-stone and mountain heather. As soon as we be- 
 gan to descend, we saw the splendid remains of the Abbey 
 Crucis, which was formerly a spacious monastery. One 
 window remains, a most exquisite monument of Gothic taste 
 and skill. We spent an hour in examining it. I saw a 
 small hole in the wall, and entering it discovered a winding 
 stair-case, which led up into a small tower; forty-seven 
 steps were perfectly entire, and I was able to spring from 
 them upon the ruins of the wall. A part of the ruins are 
 covered with a roof, and occupied as stables, by a farmer 
 who lives in an adjoining cottage. A new portion of the ru- 
 ins has lately been discovered and cleared from the rubbish 
 which covered them. The ride from Ruthin to Llangol- 
 len was admirable, alternately sublime and beautiful, bar- 
 ren mountains, naked rocks, and cultivated valleys. 
 
 I have just been interrupted by a Welsh harper, who 
 came with his instrument and begged permission to play a 
 few airs to us. It was indeed delightful, and soon melted 
 
 Mrs. to tears. I wish you could have heard him, 
 
 and still more . The place, the time (a moon- 
 light night), the instrument, would have raised her even be- 
 yond her natural enthusiasm. Our musician is said to be 
 the best harper in Wales. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 285 
 
 Shrewsbury, May 20. 
 
 I THOUGHT, dear , that nothing could exceed my 
 
 enjoyment yesterday, but this day has surpassed it. This 
 morning we proceeded through the Vale of Llangollen a few 
 miles, till we reached the Ellesmere canal, which joins the 
 Severn and the Dee. It crosses the Vale of Llangollen on 
 an aqueduct or bridge of cast iron, one thousand and eight 
 feet in length, and elevated one hundred and thirty-two feet 
 above the valley below ; through which the river Dee flows 
 immediately under the aqueduct, where it forms a small 
 cascade. The aqueduct is supported by nineteen stone 
 pillars of a light color. The landscape, as seen from the 
 centre of this aqueduct, is beautiful beyond description. 
 On one side, on a lofty and apparently inaccessible crag, 
 stands Castle Dinas Bran ; on the opposite side, two beau- 
 tiful villages. 
 
 The richness and cultivation of the vale is finely con- 
 trasted with the darkness and barrenness of the mountains, 
 five of which show their bald summits in the horizon. Up- 
 on leaving the vale we visited Chirk Castle, the ancient seat 
 of the Middletons. Here all our early dreams of romance 
 were realized. The castle is above five hundred years old, 
 and is in perfect repair ; though part of it is of comparative- 
 ly modern date, having been battered by Oliver Cromwell, 
 but repaired after the restoration. The drawing-room and 
 dining-room are more to my taste than the splendid apart- 
 ments of Lord Grosvenor, of which I must tell you when I 
 come home. The old banqueting room is full of portraits ; 
 
286 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 among others James the Second and Charles the Second, 
 by Sir Godfrey Kneller ; Mary, Queen of Scots, and the 
 old family portraits. Our attention was arrested by a very 
 demure countenance, with a staid cap. " What nun is 
 that ? " " Nun ! " exclaimed our guide, a very intelligent 
 old lady. " No nun she ! She had seven husbands, and 
 one of them was a Middleton. She was a sister of Owen 
 Tudor, and when she rode to the funeral of one of her hus- 
 bands, a friend, who sat with her, determined to be in sea- 
 son, and ventured to propose himself. She regretted ex- 
 ceedingly that she was already engaged ; but told him, if 
 such a melancholy occasion again occurred, she would 
 think of him. 5 ' 
 
 We spent some time in the chamber in which Charles the 
 First slept the evening before the battle of Chester. The 
 bedstead, the curtain, and the tapestry remain as they then 
 were. There were doors concealed behind the arras, 
 staircases in the wall, and all the apparatus of an ancient 
 castle. The story we heard of the family was melancholy. 
 The male line is now extinct ; and this castle, as well as 
 Ruthin Castle, and Denbigh Castle, and forty thousand 
 pounds per annum, belongs to three sisters, who are quarrel- 
 ling with each other ; and, to vent their malice upon each 
 other, are cutting down their oaks and dilapidating their cas- 
 tles. There is a splendid gate at the entrance of wrought 
 iron, made by a single man at Chester, which cost him sev- 
 en years of labor. It is wonderfully fine. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 287 
 
 Birmingham, May 20. 
 
 WE have just arrived at this toy-shop of Europe, but, in 
 our passage here, we have passed through a region of bar- 
 renness, of fire and smoke, which fully justifies Espriella's 
 account. " If you were to ride here by night," said a 
 coachman to Professor Silliman, " you would fancy your- 
 self going to hell." At Bilston, about ten miles back, we 
 had a little foretaste of Pandemonium. I shall write again 
 as soon as I reach London, which will be in a week or ten 
 days. * * * 
 
 London, June 6, 1815. 
 
 THIS is a miserable life, my dear , paying and re- 
 ceiving visits, gazing at strange sights, and feeling, in a 
 crowd, all the loneliness of a desert, without any of its 
 charms. Our little tour in Wales was delightful beyond de- 
 scription ; but even beautiful prospects become familiar to 
 the eye, and before we reached London, I began to long 
 for quiet hours and regular employment. In London I 
 hoped to get a few books about me, and to divide my time, 
 as I had been accustomed, between books and society ; 
 but 1 am disappointed, and instead of literary leisure, I am 
 obliged, at this moment, to gain time to write to you by 
 giving up a visit to Westminster Abbey. has gone 
 
288 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 with and Mr. and Mrs. , and I have very gladly 
 
 made a cold an excuse for not accompanying them. Do 
 not suppose that I intend to leave the country without see- 
 ing it ; though I must confess, my enthusiasm for fine 
 buildings is very much abated. If one could visit these 
 splendid monuments of ancient times, alone, or in company 
 with an intelligent friend, one might indulge all the solemn 
 recollections connected with the buildings. But you are 
 hurried through them, by some paltry shilling-guide, who 
 repeats, in a tone of recitation, some ridiculous legend, to 
 which you are obliged to listen, and which effectually de- 
 stroys the solemnity of the scene. These guides are ac- 
 customed to repeat these tales perhaps twenty times a day, 
 to successive visiters, for as many years, and they will 
 neither stop nor answer any questions, till the story is end- 
 ed. At the Tower I attempted to check the current of the 
 fellow's narrative, by asking him questions, till he became 
 angry. " Sir, if you will have patience I will tell you all 
 that I know. Gentlemen who visit the Tower do not gen- 
 erally disbelieve what I say." I stopped a moment to at- 
 tempt to recall what I had read about the Tower. " Sir, I 
 see there is more company below, waiting to come up ; we 
 must make haste." And so we were hurried on. 
 
 London has, in general, fallen much below my expecta- 
 tions ; indeed, they were so indefinite, that I hardly knew 
 what to expect. The private buildings are very ordinary, 
 even at the West end of the town. I have seen no house 
 in London, which, in its external appearance, is equal to 
 Governor 's, Mr. J s, or even 's, in Boston. 
 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 289 
 
 Mr. 's house would be remarked for its beauty in any 
 
 square of the city. The bricks are of a brown dirty color, 
 approaching nearer to yellow than red ; and in their general 
 appearance the streets of Westminster are much inferior 
 to those of Philadelphia. At the West end, the streets are 
 broad and straight ; but in the " City," as it is technically 
 called, they are generally as narrow, dark, and dirty, as 
 
 street. The multitudes in the streets, too, are not so 
 
 great as I expected. I have seen State-street in Boston as 
 crowded as Ludgate Hill or the Strand. Many of the pub- 
 lic buildings, considered separately, are very beautiful ; but 
 I have seen not one, whose whole effect was powerful. 
 
 Even St. Paul's is by no means so striking as . 
 
 It is so surrounded by other buildings, is so blackened with 
 dirt, and is seen through such a smoky atmosphere, that 
 nothing but its immense size prevents its being passed with- 
 out observation. Of the theatres, the front of Covent 
 Garden is very handsome ; but Drury Lane is a shape- 
 less pile of bricks, as blank and as destitute of ornament as 
 a distillery. So much for the unfavorable side. There 
 are some things in which London is better than hope. 
 The squares, which are scattered through the West end of 
 the town, are very beautiful, either planted with trees or 
 laid out as ornamental gardens. They are surrounded 
 with an iron railing, and access to them is permitted only to 
 certain inhabitants in the neighbourhood, who are furnished 
 with private keys. We live in the immediate vicinity of 
 two of these squares, and I am not unfrequently awaked in 
 the morning by the singing of the birds. 
 
 37 
 
290 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Another thing worthy of praise in London, is the tran- 
 quillity of the streets. Every man seems to pursue his own 
 business in quiet. There are no brawls and no swearing in 
 the streets. I have been in many different parts of the city 
 as late as eleven o'clock, and I have never yet heard any 
 
 profaneness or witnessed any riot. Mr. P , a friend to 
 
 whom introduced me, told me, that drinking and 
 
 swearing were almost banished from respectable company ; 
 and fortunately the mob is disposed to follow the fashion. 
 The equipages of the great people are by no means so 
 splendid as I expected. I have rarely seen more than two 
 horses even in the ducal chariots. The well-dressed peo- 
 ple in public places are not much better clothed, than the 
 higher classes in our own country. They seem to waste 
 their wealth in the luxury of servants, more than in any 
 other channel. The coachmen and footmen are frequently 
 dressed in the most fantastic and gaudy colors imaginable ; 
 and at the doors of the houses of fashionable people, you 
 see two or three young men, lounging upon the steps, with 
 powdered hair, white stockings, epaulettes, plush small- 
 clothes of scarlet or yellow, and frequently embroidered 
 waistcoats, with no employment for hours, but that of dis- 
 playing their own pretty persons and their master's wealth. 
 
 But, with all this disappointment, I have seen one object 
 which very unexpectedly excited my highest admiration 
 and astonishment. It is the tobacco warehouse in the Lon- 
 don dock. This is a building about fifteen feet high, but 
 covering upwards of five acres of ground. The roof is 
 supported by cast-iron pillars, and is covered with shingles 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 291 
 
 of cast-iron, instead of slate. Under the whole of this im- 
 mense building is a cellar, in which several hundred rows 
 of arches, intersecting one another every twenty or thirty 
 feet, support a stone roof, forming the floor of the ware- 
 house above. We provided ourselves with torches, and 
 our whole party walked through it. We almost imagined 
 ourselves in the catacombs of Egypt ; and if sixteen thou- 
 sand pipes of wine, which lay around us, could have been 
 converted into so many mummies, the illusion would have 
 been complete. It is said that the Emperor Alexander ex- 
 pressed more admiration at this and at the warehouse than 
 at any thing else he had seen in England. 
 
 I have visited most of the great book-stores, but have in 
 every instance been disappointed in their appearance. 
 
 They are generally not larger than that of ! The 
 
 books are kept in warehouses, and only specimens placed 
 in shops. I have ventured to purchase even more than I 
 intended when I left home. In doing this, I believe I was 
 consulting your taste as well as my own, and that you 
 would be willing to retrench a few luxuries in furniture, &tc. 
 to have at command a valuable domestic library. 
 
 Wednesday, June 7. 
 
 I have just had a proof of the fallacy of human judg- 
 ment. This has been a clear morning, with a fine pure 
 air ; and in passing by St. Paul's I was struck with the in- 
 justice of my former remarks. It is indeed a wonderful 
 building, worthy of the nation which erected it, and of the 
 city in which it stands. It was intended that Sir Christo- 
 
292 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 pher Wren, the architect, should be buried under the cen- 
 tre of the dome. I have seen in some magazine the fol- 
 lowing epitaph proposed for him. " Hie jacet, &c. Si 
 monumentum quasritis, circumspiciatis." " Here lies Sir 
 Christopher Wren, &c. Do you ask for his monument ? 
 Look around you." 
 
 There are no new books of any peculiar merit here, 
 except a journal of travels through England, by a French- 
 man. 
 
 I have just received a letter from , announcing his 
 
 arrival at Liverpool, after a passage of twenty-six days. He 
 has not yet determined whether Liverpool or Manchester 
 is to be his place of residence. Whichever it be, I shall 
 spend some time with him this summer, for I am heartily 
 tired of London ; and if Edinburgh does not afford more 
 pleasure, I shall wish myself on the ocean before Septem- 
 ber. 
 
 You must set down most of the dulness and incoherence 
 of this letter to a stupid headach, which has fastened upon 
 me these three days. 
 
 London, June 21, 1815. 
 
 MY DEAR , 
 
 IT seems has anticipated me in the most in- 
 teresting subjects for a letter, St. Paul's, Westminster Ab- 
 bey, and Lord Byron, and has left me nothing but pictures, 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 293 
 
 wild beasts, and Lady Banks ; but I will see what I can do 
 
 without them. Soon after I came to town, and I 
 
 wandered down to St. Paul's to attend a general meeting 
 of the Charity children of the city, where a sermon was to 
 be preached for their benefit. We expected nothing, but, 
 as all the world appeared to be going, we joined the multi- 
 tude, and by the assistance of a guinea secured a place al- 
 most immediately under the dome. We found a tempora- 
 ry pulpit erected in the centre, and nearly eight thousand 
 children seated on circular benches round it, rising one 
 above another like an amphitheatre. They were all dress- 
 ed in uniform, varying in color and shape in the different 
 parishes, but agreeing in some general points. The little 
 girls had mob caps of linen, linen handkerchiefs pinned 
 over the bosom, and linen aprons, coarse, indeed, but per- 
 fectly white and clean. Their gowns were of coarse ging- 
 ham, like our country manufacture, of blue, yellow, drab, 
 red (one class of girls belonged to the Lobster school, 
 so named from the color of their clothes). The boys were 
 dressed in long coats, single-breasted, breeches, and shoes, 
 with what we call a clergyman's band round the neck. 
 Both boys and girls constantly wear a pewter medal sewed 
 to the clothes, designating the parish and class to which 
 they respectively belong. In the parish in which our lodg- 
 ings are situated (St. George's Bloomsbury), I counted one 
 hundred and ninety-seven of these children, all under 
 twelve years of age. The services commenced with an 
 anthem sung by the children. Their voices not only filled 
 the dome, but were echoed back with a loudness and shrill- 
 
294 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 ness that was painful to the ear. To our great surprise, 
 when a]hymn was afterwards sung by the whole choir of the 
 church, accompanied by the organ, only a few faint and im- 
 perfect sounds reached us. The voice of the preacher was 
 entirely lost ; it ascended perhaps to the good angels above, 
 but, though we could see him open his mouth with great 
 energy, there was not a sound to convince us that he was 
 not gasping the while. We stayed till the children had 
 sung the coronation anthem. The words " O Lord, bless 
 the King, may the King live for ever, for ever, for ever," 
 were sung in different parts, and taken up by the children 
 successively, so that the song echoed round the dome like 
 the different notes of a musical instrument. 
 
 Pleasing as the sight was (and it affected us both power- 
 fully), I could not help entertaining some doubts of its moral 
 effect. The poor, who are always improvident, are shown, 
 at once, the extent of the public charity ; they see an im- 
 mense number of children taken from the lowest abodes of 
 wretchedness and guilt, better clothed, as well fed, as 
 healthy and as happy, as the children of the middling class 
 of manufacturers. They know that when they die the par- 
 ish must support their children, and the horror of leaving 
 them dependent upon public charity is much abated by 
 their appearance on these gala days. They naturally 
 enough remember more of the holiday suits of the children 
 than of their every-day dress ; and they think, that if they 
 do spend their daily earnings in intemperance and prodigal- 
 ity, instead r of accumulating something for the education 
 and maintenance of their children, its only effect will be, to 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 295 
 
 add two or three more to the happy thousands who are an- 
 nually assembled at St. Paul's. 
 
 We went this morning to a meeting of the West London 
 Lancasterian Association, in the expectation of seeing Sir 
 James Mackintosh, who was to preside ; but, to our great 
 disappointment, he was too sick to attend. His place was 
 supplied by a Mr. Edward Wakefield, who delivered a short 
 and tolerably good address on the advantages of a general 
 diffusion of knowledge ; but he complained much of want of 
 patronage and a want of personal exertion in the members of 
 the Association. He told us it was his first attempt at pub- 
 lic speaking, and, considering that he was very much fright- 
 ened, it was well enough. He was followed by Dr. Lind- 
 say, the Unitarian, w r ho, as well as Mr. Wakefield, interlard- 
 ed his discourse with political allusions, that were received 
 with great applause by the audience. A resolution offered 
 by Dr. Lindsay was seconded by a young man, whose 
 name we did not hear, but who appeared to be well read 
 in the poets. He delivered a discourse in a very animated 
 style upon love, marriage, domestic happiness, universal 
 philanthropy, and the children in Ireland. He told us, that 
 if the children of the poor were educated, every thorn 
 would be removed from the rose of domestic bliss, and the 
 .couch of connubial affection would be strewed with flowers, 
 and so forth, to the end of the chapter. He too could 
 not deliver his poetry without a slight touch at His Majesty's 
 ministers. It is this propensity, to make every meeting an 
 occasion of political discussion, that alienates the good will 
 of many, and effectually prevents the patronage of govern- 
 ment, if it had otherwise a disposition to bestow it. 
 
296 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 We left the house without hearing any more. I learned 
 from some documents, which I saw there, a few facts 
 which may interest you. A clergyman at Manchester, ex- 
 amining the registers of the collegiate church at that place 
 for six years, namely, from January 1, 1807, to .December 
 31, 1812, found from the signatures, that so many as nine 
 thousand seven hundred and fifty-six persons had been 
 married within that period, who were not able to write their 
 own names ! In one city ! And England is the land of 
 knowledge and refinement ! In Scotland one person in ev- 
 ery twenty thousand two hundred and seventy-nine is com- 
 mitted to prison yearly for trial ; in England, one person in 
 every one thousand nine hundred and eighty-eight. The 
 whole number committed yearly for trial in England, accord- 
 ing to the statement of Colquhoun (whose accuracy has nev- 
 er been questioned), is twelve thousand one hundred and 
 seventy-two, in a population of little more than ten millions ! 
 The average number of persons sentenced to death yearly 
 in England, for seven years, ending in 1811, was three hun- 
 dred and seventy-five. From the reports of various com- 
 mittees connected with the Lancasterian Society, and the 
 British and Foreign School Society, it appears, that in 
 England not more than one person in eight can read and 
 write ! And yet England is the land of taste and cultiva- 
 tion, the seat of the arts, and the chosen residence of all 
 that is great and excellent in genius and learning ! So we 
 
 think ; but believe me, dear , England is like one of 
 
 those sunny spots which we sometimes see on the side of a 
 mountain, fresh, verdant, and blooming, as if covered with 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 097 
 
 flowers ; we admire it at a distance, but when we approach, 
 we find it cold, desolate, and barren. With England, as I 
 fear with every thing else, " 'T is distance lends enchant- 
 ment to the view." One fact more, and I have done. It 
 has been ascertained, that, in Great Britain and Ireland, 
 one million seven hundred and fifty thousand children every 
 year arrive at an age capable of instruction, without receiv- 
 ing the least, and grow up in total ignorance. Do you not 
 thank God that you are not daily a witness of so much ig- 
 norance and guilt ? 
 
 When I have attended places of public amusement, I 
 have mingled, as much as possible, with the multitude, both 
 the gentry and the mob, to ascertain, as much as possible, 
 the state of moral feeling among them. It is such as you 
 would expect from the statement I have made above. We 
 witnessed last night at Drury Lane a comedy of Beaumont 
 and Fletcher's, which was received with extravagant ap- 
 plause, but which I do think, for the honor of my native 
 country, would not have been tolerated on the Boston 
 stage. Even the ladies joined in the plaudits, and clapped 
 their hands outrageously, when Kean, their favorite actor, 
 uttered expressions for which a gentleman would have been 
 driven from all decent society. This they call taste and 
 refinement ! Thank Heaven, we have none of it. 
 
 38 
 
298 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 London, June 22, 1815. 
 
 * * * YESTERDAY morning we went to visit Lord 
 Elgin's marbles, the collection of plunder which he 
 brought from Athens. It was not without indignation and 
 regret that I saw it. He has brought away detached orna- 
 ments, pieces of sculpture, broken statues, capitals of pil- 
 lars, parts of fluted columns, fragments of tomb-stones and 
 votive inscriptions, which were all beautiful in their places, 
 and, connected with the spot in which they were found, 
 must have excited the deepest interest and the highest en- 
 thusiasm ; but brought away in broken masses, and deposit- 
 ed in the centre of London, they affect you no more than 
 so many casks of lime made in Athens. To complete your 
 disgust, you are shown a drawing of the Parthenon, and the 
 Temple of Jupiter, and are told, that this horse's head was 
 taken from the front, that that capital was torn from the 
 portico, that the high relief which you admire formed the 
 architrave, that the fragment of a foot, so delicately formed, 
 was wrested from that groupe, in one word, that all you 
 see was plundered and carried away, lest the Turks should 
 do the same ! You will better understand Lord Elgin's 
 motives, when I tell you, that he was the British Embassa- 
 dor to Turkey ; that he employed all the means, which his 
 official situation gave him, to complete this work of plun- 
 der ; and that he now offers his collection to Parliament, for 
 the modest sum of fifty thousand pounds ! It is true, that 
 it cost him a large sum to transport them to England ; and 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 299 
 
 one cannot but lament, that so much money should have 
 been so unprofitably employed. It was his folly, and he 
 ought to suffer for it. But, after all, I cannot discover the 
 great value of these marbles. Not a single piece is per- 
 fect. You see the body of a man, without a face or an 
 arm ; the mouth and lips of a female figure, without the 
 upper part of the head; and the piece which has been 
 most admired here, is the head of a horse, without any un- 
 der jaw, with no nostrils or ears, but one eye, and half the 
 crest of the mane broken off. If they were wanted as 
 models of sculpture, casts could easily have been taken of 
 them, at Athens ; and architects would better improve their 
 taste by seeing a drawing of a whole temple, than by ex- 
 amining an unwieldy block of marble, which once formed 
 part of a column. I should suspect myself of want of taste, 
 
 if I were not supported in my opinion by and , 
 
 who have sufficient enthusiasm for every thing Grecian ; by 
 
 , who has no moderate feelings upon any subject ; and 
 
 by , who has a high relish for all the pleasures of 
 
 taste. Yet Mr. West speaks with admiration of these mar- 
 bles, and Mrs. Sid dons fainted, or affected to faint, with 
 emotion, at the sight of them. They reminded me of a 
 story in Hierocles ; a man had a palace to sell, and by 
 way of recommending it, carried about with him a brick as 
 a specimen. 
 
 I left the building wearied and displeased ; and gladly 
 threw myself into the carriage, and drove to Stoke Newington 
 to visit Mrs. Barbauld. I found her an agreeable, sensible 
 woman, with infinite good nature in her countenance and 
 
300 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 manner ; but nothing that denoted a very powerful mind, or 
 even marked the rank which she really holds among literary 
 females. A volume of Mr. Buckminster's sermons lay upon 
 the table. She told me it had been her constant companion 
 ever since she received it ; that the sermons were the best 
 in the world, uniting the good sense of the English, with the 
 fervor of the French divines. We talked of the compara- 
 tive state of learning in England and America ; and she con- 
 firmed all the accounts, which I heard before, of the deplor- 
 able ignorance of the lower classes in this country. Numer- 
 ous as the learned and well informed persons undoubtedly 
 are, seven persons in eight are unable to read and write. 
 We spoke of the late wonderful victory of the Duke of Wel- 
 lington at Waterloo, and of the terrible slaughter by which it 
 was gained ; but I could not ascertain her opinion of the 
 present war. She says it will be time enough for America to 
 write books in the next century, she ought now to be culti- 
 vating her soil, and laying in a stock of learning and taste, to 
 be employed, when the glories of England have passed 
 away. She deprecated the introduction of large manufac- 
 tories among us, and especially the employment of young 
 children in them. An attempt, she added, was making to 
 procure an act of Parliament, prohibiting the employment of 
 children, under ten years of age, for more than ten hours a 
 day. How great must be the evil, when such is the reme- 
 dy ! She did not appear to have a very accurate notion of 
 the geography of America, and I have found .no one who 
 had. They seem to think here, that Boston, Philadelphia, 
 and Washington, lie close together, like Liverpool, Man- 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 3Q1 
 
 Chester, and Bristol. It was with difficulty I could escape 
 from her hospitality, for, after I had declined her invitation 
 to dinner, she insisted upon my partaking her beef-steak 
 as a lunch. I did not see Miss Aikin, whom I had hoped 
 to find with her. 
 
 This morning we went to see West, and were politely 
 shown into his picture rooms. There is nothing to be seen 
 in England more wonderful than these. It seems impossi- 
 ble for an individual to have painted over so much canvass 
 in a century, as the pictures which he still retains in his 
 own possession. In about eighteen months he is going to 
 collect together, in one gallery, all that he has ever painted, 
 and make one grand exhibition. He says they will fill a 
 room four hundred feet long, fifty wide, and forty-two feet 
 high ! The Louvre in Paris, which contains the accumu- 
 lated treasures of six centuries, and of fifty artists, is only 
 one third larger. I had much conversation with him ; the 
 substance of which I will endeavour to abbreviate. He does 
 not know how soon he began to paint, it was as soon as 
 he began to speak. At seven years his inclination was fix- 
 ed, though he had never heard of painting or painters. 
 At twenty, he went from Philadelphia to Rome. There 
 his mind was so much excited, he was so constantly in the 
 clouds, that he was unable to stay more than three months 
 at a time. This state of extreme agitation continued till af- 
 ter he was twenty-five, when it gradually settled into a pla- 
 cid enjoyment of his art. After three years spent in Italy, 
 he returned through France to England on his way to A- 
 merica, and arrived in London about the time of the first 
 
302 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 exhibition of paintings. Nothing was painted at that time 
 but portraits, portraits of men, women, and children, hors- 
 es, and dogs, arid cats. He put in two small pictures, and, 
 not knowing that he possessed any remarkable talents for 
 painting, was surprised at the attention they received. Since 
 that time, he has constantly resided in England. The king 
 has been his great patron and friend ; and some time (about 
 the American war) employed him for fourteen years togeth- 
 er at Windsor. It was the king who first turned his atten- 
 tion to Scripture subjects, in which he so much excels. The 
 second picture which he has painted for the Philadelphia 
 Hospital is much better than the first. The British Institu- 
 tion are so well convinced of this, that they have given him 
 several hints, that if his countrymen are not satisfied, they 
 are perfectly willing to exchange. His picture of Christ 
 Rejected, he says, has not its fellow in the world, not in 
 execution, he added with a smile, but in subject. It has 
 every passion, of which the human countenance is suscepti- 
 ble ; and all the intermediate characters are there delineat- 
 ed, from the robber Barabbas to the Saviour of the world. 
 I have purchased, and shall bring home with me, a few 
 sketches, taken from this picture, which will give you some 
 idea of the great original. Some of Mr. West's pictures 
 are, he says, thirty-six feet in height. Christ Rejected, 
 which is twenty-four feet long and sixteen feet high, he 
 calls, pleasantly enough, a half -size. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 303 
 
 Rotterdam, July 4, 1815. 
 
 WHO would have thought last year, dear , that I 
 
 should now be writing to you from Holland ? Next July, 
 perhaps, we may be taking the air together on Mount 
 Caucasus, or enjoying a moonlight walk on the banks of the 
 
 Danube. may be settled in Paris, and be 
 
 gathering flowers in the Netherlands. Two years ago we 
 were living quietly in P , neither wishing, nor dream- 
 ing of a change ; now two of us are wandering through 
 England, like Noah's dove, seeking a resting-place ; and 
 two more are journeying they know not where, in search 
 of they know not what. What will be the change of the 
 next year ? 
 
 We left London last Thursday afternoon, spent the 
 night at Ingatestone, and reached Harwich on Friday noon. 
 Our passage had been previously engaged in one of the 
 Government Packets ; but as the wind was contrary, we 
 did not sail till Sunday morning. We had a very uncom- 
 fortable passage of about thirty hours to Helvoetsluys, in a 
 little vessel of sixty tons ; and about forty persons on 
 board. We all suffered more from sea-sickness, than in 
 our whole voyage from America ; and our sufferings were 
 not alleviated by the consideration, that we had been most 
 grossly defrauded. At Helvoetsluys we hired two car- 
 riages for Rotterdam. One was een poslwagen met twee 
 paerden (I can talk Dutch with the best of them) a long 
 narrow cart, without any top, mounted upon four wheels. 
 
304 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 We piled up most of our baggage upon this, and surmount- 
 ed the whole with a large wicker basket, containing divers 
 cold chickens, salt tongues, bottles of porter, &LC., the re- 
 mains of the sea-stores from England. On a narrow seat 
 in front, tastefully adorned with a yellow plush cushion, 
 
 sat Mr. and . I placed myself forward on a 
 
 bench with the driver. The machine was drawn by one 
 black horse and one white one, whose heads were tied to- 
 gether by a rope. Each horse was proudly caparisoned 
 with a leathern bridle ; round his breast was bound a strip 
 of woollen, apparently torn from some tattered blanket; 
 over this was passed a rope, which tied him to the carriage 
 behind, while another rope was tied to his nose, to enable 
 the coachman to hold him in, if by some strange impulse he 
 should be induced to move. No saddle, buckle, band, or 
 rein, impaired the simplicity of his appearance. Two 
 ropes and a piece of blanket are sufficient for the harness 
 of a royal coach. The other carriage, een koetz met twee 
 paerden, had a roof and was lined within, but was much 
 harder than our machine. The horses, too, had something 
 like saddles, but were harnessed with ropes like the oth- 
 ers. When all was ready, our coachman lighted his pipe, 
 mounted his seat, placed his foot on the back of the horse 
 immediately before him, cracked his whip, and away we 
 drove full speed, at the rate of one mile and three quarters 
 an hour. 
 
 Our way, for some time, lay along the sea-shore, on the 
 first dike which guards this strange country. We were 
 struck with the propriety of Goldsmith's expression in de- 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 305 
 
 scribing Holland, " Where the broad ocean leans against 
 the land." It was apparent to the eye, that the greater 
 part of the country was below the level of the sea. We 
 soon afterwards left the shore, and crossed the country to 
 the second range of dikes. These dikes are barriers or 
 ridges of earth, thown up about twelve or fifteen feet high, 
 and broad enough to have a road on the top. The coun- 
 try is every where a morass, and the houses are built in sit- 
 uations which we should think absolutely uninhabitable. 
 They are surrounded by moats or ditches, where the water 
 remains stagnant only an inch or two below the surface of 
 the ground. Round the door, there is generally a neat 
 brick pavement, and a small bridge across the ditch ; the 
 pavement is usually continued as far as to the road on the 
 dike. The houses are built of very small red bricks, with 
 either red tiles or thatch on the roofs ; and are always very 
 neat. We passed through several villages which were very 
 neat, but very ugly. The streets are well paved with small 
 bricks, for you know there is not a stone in the country. 
 There are no enclosures, for the fields are separated by 
 ditches instead of fences. Frequently, however, these ditch- 
 es are planted with willows, which add much to the pleasant- 
 ness of the scene. You cannot have a better idea of the 
 country, than by imagining Hampton marsh extended as far 
 as the eye can reach, covered with a delightful verdure, 
 and studded here and there with a village, instead of the 
 haycocks, which are now scattered over it. The villages 
 are surrounded with trees, planted as thick as they can 
 grow, which give them the appearance of islands in this ex- 
 
 39 
 
306 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 tensive level. It was painful to observe the people every 
 where ragged and poor ; but the Orange flag was waving 
 on every church, and the Orange cockade mounted on ev- 
 ery hat and bonnet, the pledge of happier times. 
 
 At sunset, which was about half past eight, we arrived 
 opposite Rotterdam, and soon bargained for a boat to carry 
 us across the Maese. We directed the boatman to land as 
 near the Bath Hotel as possible. Upon entering the city, 
 we were a little surprised at finding him row up one street 
 and down another, till we stopped at the very door of our 
 house. Upon landing here, to our no small disappoint- 
 ment, we found it full. followed us in the boat with 
 
 the baggage, while the rest of us walked to another hotel. 
 
 As we went, I remarked to the strangeness of the 
 
 event, that she and I should be wandering about Rotterdam, 
 after nine o'clock at night, in search of a lodging ! We 
 are now at a large hotel, where the mistress speaks English 
 and the bar-keeper stutters it, the waiters, attached to our 
 apartments, speak French, the boot-cleaner and porter 
 speak in German, and the chambermaids know nothing 
 but Dutch. This confusion of languages produces some 
 
 perplexity, but infinite amusement. , , and I 
 
 have applied ourselves assiduously to the Dutch for two 
 days past, and already know some dozen phrases, which 
 we are proud of uttering. Rotterdam exactly corresponds 
 to my notion of Venice. The principal streets are canals, 
 filled with boats and vessels of every description. On each 
 side of the canal is a path, paved with brick, wide enough 
 for carriages. The walls of many of the houses on the 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 307 
 
 back, are also washed by canals, which intersect the large 
 ones at right angles. I have walked round and through 
 the city, and look where you will, you see masts of vessels 
 towering above the houses, mingled with the trees with 
 which the banks of the canals are every where lined. Mr. 
 
 , a respectable merchant, whom I have visited, says, 
 
 that the hatred against the French is inconceivably great. 
 To-morrow is a national thanksgiving for Wellington's vic- 
 tory at Waterloo. The communication with France is not 
 yet open, though it is believed, at present, that the Allies 
 are in Paris. 
 
 Leyden, July 9, 1815. 
 
 MY DEAR , 
 
 THOUGH it is Sunday, I think it more edifying to 
 write a letter to you, than to listen to a Dutch Sermon, of 
 which I could not understand a word to say nothing of the 
 fact, -that the Dutch ministers usually preach three hours 
 in a tone, that nothing but Dutch patience could tolerate. 
 
 If has received a letter, which I wrote to her from 
 
 Rotterdam, you will have learned how we came to Holland, 
 and in what style we entered the magnificent city of Eras- 
 mus. After spending three days at Rotterdam, we set out 
 for the Hague on Thursday morning, to hear Madame Cat- 
 alani, who was to give an Oratorio for the benefit of the 
 
308 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 widows and children of those soldiers who had fallen at the 
 battle of Waterloo. The performance was fixed at one 
 o'clock, to accommodate the king, who was going to Am- 
 sterdam in the afternoon. We hired two splendid carriages, 
 one lined with crimson velvet, and the other with orange 
 plush garnished with green, each with a broken bellows- 
 top over the back seat, and a canopy of tattered tow cloth, 
 tied in festoons over the front seat. Two fiery chargers 
 were harnessed to each, with a brace of bed-cord, their 
 long sweeping tails being first twisted and tied into a knot, 
 like the hair of the American ladies. The coachman, 
 grasping his cod-line rein in one hand, brandished his eel- 
 skin whip in the other, and we soon made the pavement 
 quake under us, as if it were trod by one of their own Bur- 
 gomasters. As we approached Delft, we were met by a 
 great crowd of women and children, running out of town 
 with every mark of terror and consternation. As soon as 
 they saw us, they lifted up their arms and poured forth a 
 torrent of Dutch gutturals, which sounded like the winding 
 up of a smoke-jack. The coachmen immediately stopped. 
 " What is the matter ? " " Turn back, turn back," was all 
 the answer we received. At length one woman stopped 
 and talked with us. Our coachman, understanding a little 
 English and a little French, acted as interpreter ; and after 
 a parley of three or four minutes, we were able to guess 
 that one of the dikes had broken loose, and all the country 
 was under water. " Drive on, then, and let us see it," was 
 our order. The coachman, with evident reluctance, turn- 
 ed his horses and proceeded a few steps, then stopped 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 309 
 
 again to inquire. " The town is on fire ! " " Then drive 
 on, and let us put it out." Again he went forward, and 
 was again stopped. " The powder magazine is on fire ! in 
 five minutes the country will be blown up ! " It was in vain 
 we urged that there was no danger ; and that their stories 
 were so contradictory, that it was evidently a false alarm. 
 We were obliged to lose half an hour in turning and return- 
 ing, and debating the matter with the coachmen, and in 
 listening to exclamations in Dutch. At length a gentleman, 
 who appeared to be intelligent, passed by ; and from him 
 we learned, that the fire was out, and that the powder mag- 
 azine had been in no danger. 
 
 It was now twelve o'clock, and we were six miles from 
 Madame Catalani. As the coachmen appeared still to be 
 frightened, we wrought upon their fears, to make them in- 
 crease their speed ; and therefore besought them earnestly 
 to drive through the town with all possible speed before 
 the magazine exploded. Our horses were whipped into 
 unusual speed, and we had just past the gates of the town, 
 when the coachmen suddenly wheeled about and shot out 
 again like an arrow, and actually made the circuit of the 
 whole town, rather than pass through it. We were fortu- 
 nate enough, after all our troubles, to arrive in good season 
 at the Hague, and, having previously procured tickets, we 
 repaired immediately to the great church. We had scarce- 
 ly entered, before a flourish of trumpets announced the ap- 
 proach of the king. As I had never before been so near 
 to royalty, I was curious to examine His Majesty's person. 
 He is rather an ordinary looking man, dull, and indolent. 
 
310 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 He was dressed in a military uniform, with a little red 
 scratch upon his head. The singing of Catalani surpassed 
 my expectations. She is a very lovely woman, intelli- 
 gent, dignified, and modest ; and the sweetness and power 
 of her voice truly wonderful. She is now making the tour 
 of the continent, satisfied with having received in England 
 about fifty thousand dollars a year. She had with her 
 some four or five musicians, who took parts in the Oratorio, 
 to relieve her from the fatigue of singing all the time. 
 One of these was an Italian (Signer Celli), who, in singing, 
 literally swallowed his lips, and continually excited our ap- 
 prehension for the safety of his nose. When the music 
 was over, the Royal family rose to depart, and passed with- 
 in a few feet of the place where I stood. Her Majesty 
 went up and shook hands with Catalani, bobbing two cour- 
 tesies between every word. She is a very decorous and 
 comely old lady, and if she ever wears spectacles, you 
 
 have a very accurate portrait of her in 's little book, 
 
 where the good lady is threading her needle by the candle, 
 with the motto, " A miss is as bad as a mile." The popu- 
 larity of the family rests with the young Prince, who was 
 wounded at Waterloo. 
 
 Since I have been in Holland, I have done nothing but 
 laugh at the Dutch, though an excellent people ; and al- 
 most every thing in the country is truly admirable, worthy 
 of praise, even in comparison with England ; but there are 
 many things, which appear to me infinitely ridiculous. 
 The women are very fair, and have generally good fea- 
 tures, and fine, broad, red, fat cheeks ; but they all wear 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 31 1 
 
 (old and young) a hideous mob-cap, that gives them the 
 appearance of sixty years. Take any little fat girl that 
 you know, roll her hair to the top of her head, and then 
 put over it a linen mob nightcap, pin a large square linen 
 handkerchief over her bosom, dress her in a short calico 
 jacket ; accumulate sixteen short petticoats, one over the 
 other, of any thick stuff (blankets for instance), till she 
 looks like a half-hogshead tub upon stilts ; bind her stock- 
 ings very tight, give her a pair of leather slippers with 
 wooden soles, and you have a Dutch girl in her walking- 
 dress. 
 
 But I must not write any more (on Sunday), and so 
 
 with all seriousness, dear , I subscribe myself 
 
 Yours most affectionately. 
 
 I saw yesterday some beautiful thimbles of ivory, and 
 others of pearl. I wished to buy one for you, but upon 
 examination I found them all large enough for a Dutch- 
 man's thumb. I am afraid, if I send you one, you will 
 mistake it for a nightcap or a wash-bowl. 
 
 Colebrook Dale (Shropshire), September 8, 1815. 
 
 HERE we are, dear , among the infernals again, 
 
 in the midst of blackness and darkness and smoke, one 
 of the most romantic spots in the kingdom, covered with 
 a dun and sulphurous smoke, issuing from coal-pits and 
 
312 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 iron-furnaces, and every twenty steps presenting you with 
 a chasm, that yawns like the jaws of Acheron. In the 
 night, the numerous towers and chimnies scattered through 
 the valley, which are continually sending out columns of 
 flame and cinders, and which shed a thick and yellow light 
 upon the surrounding hills, remind you of no heavenly ob- 
 jects. Yet this is the spot where the finest China is made, 
 and the most wonderful castings of iron are executed. Di- 
 rectly in front of my window, as 1 am now sitting, is the 
 celebrated iron bridge over the Severn, which gives its 
 name to this village. Beautiful as it is, I prefer the simple 
 wooden bridges of our country, accompanied, as they are 
 with us, with the appearance of health and happiness in the 
 neighbouring inhabitants. We admire the results of the 
 manufacturing industry of England ; but admiration is soon 
 changed into pity, when we are admitted behind the scenes 
 and witness the process. Emaciated bodies, pale, sallow 
 complexions, hollow voices, and premature decay, are the 
 marks of a manufacturing town, to say nothing of ruinous 
 buildings, and dirty, ragged children. Long may it be be- 
 fore our country becomes, like England, the work-shop of 
 the world ! 
 
 Our journey from London to this place has been re- 
 markably pleasant. We have visited Hampton-Court, the 
 favorite residence of Queen Anne, Windsor, Oxford, Blen- 
 heim, Stow, Banbury (where we bought a two-penny cake\ 
 Stratford upon Avon, the Vale of Evesham, Tewksbury, the 
 Malvern Hills, Worcester, Kidderminster, and Bridgenorth. 
 This latter place is one of the most remarkable in the king- 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 313 
 
 dom. It stands upon the side of a steep and precipitous 
 hill (Miss Owenson would say perpendicular and sloping), 
 in which the inhabitants have excavated, not only stables 
 and shops, but even dwellinghouses. Half way up the hill 
 you will see a window and a door in the side of the rock, 
 with a few rude steps cut in the stone leading to it, and a 
 precipice, of perhaps fifty or sixty feet, rising perpendicu- 
 larly above it. On the summit are the ruins of a tower, 
 which was blown up by Oliver Cromwell. The whole 
 mass was lifted up, thrown upon one side, and exactly pois- 
 ed on the edge, as if you were to balance a chair upon one 
 leg. The mass is forty or fifty feet in height, and, though 
 built of small stones, is so well cemented, that it will proba- 
 bly resist the attacks of time, for two or three centuries to 
 come. * * * 
 
 Stow, the seat of the Marquis of Buckingham, is a per- 
 fect paradise. It not only surpasses all that I have yet 
 seen, but equals my wildest imaginations. It was laid out, 
 in a situation naturally beautiful, by Capability Brown ; a 
 man, who, like Brindley, banished the word impossibility 
 from his vocabulary. What think you of building a large 
 stone church, to terminate an avenue ; and of having a 
 castle erected on a distant hill, to add to the general beauty 
 of the landscape ? Yet these constitute but a small part of 
 the " improvements," as they are called. The pleasure 
 grounds extend through four hundred acres. The walks 
 are laid out with exquisite taste, and, at every turn, present 
 you with some beautiful object, the church or castle, 
 which I have mentioned above ; a column, seventy feet 
 
 40 
 
314 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 high, to the memory of Lord Cobham ; a Grecian temple ; 
 a naval pillar, fifty feet in height, to the memory of 'Captain 
 Grenville ; a beautiful building dedicated to Friendship, and 
 containing the busts of Chatham, Grenville, Temple, Ches- 
 terfield, and others, in marble ; one or two beautiful bridg- 
 es ; but descriptions are always tiresome. I have only one 
 thing to add, the family very rarely reside here ! they are 
 too rich for enjoyment 5 and thirty or forty servants are left, 
 to take care of the seat, and show it to strangers. 
 
 At Stratford, we visited the house in which Shakspeare 
 was born ; seated ourselves in an old chair in the chimney 
 corner, which tradition says was his, and enrolled our 
 names among the fifty thousand which adorn his bedcham- 
 ber. We next visited the church, where his tomb and 
 monument are in perfect preservation, though trodden by 
 the feet of so many pilgrims. I could not view it without 
 emotion, though there have been such constant demands 
 upon my admiration and sympathy, that my feelings have 
 become almost callous. I send you the inscription from 
 his tomb, copied with its ancient orthography. 
 
 On the monument ; 
 
 Stay passenger, why goest thou by so fast, 
 Read, if thou canst, whom envious death hath plast 
 Within this monument, Shakspeare ; with whome 
 Quick nature dide, whose name doth deck ys. tombe 
 Far more than cost ; sich all yt. he hath writt, 
 Leaves living art, but page to serve his witt. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 3J[5 
 
 On the stone, covering his grave ; 
 
 Good friend, for Jesus sake forbeare 
 To digg the dust enclosed heare ; 
 Blest be ye. man yt. spares these stones, 
 And curst be he yt. moves my bones. 
 
 Though the pleasures of travelling, my dear , are 
 
 apt to kindle the fancy, be assured it is a continual sacrifice 
 of happiness. Nothing but the prospect of home, however 
 distant, could render this wandering life even tolerable. In 
 a land of wonders, your stock of enthusiasm is soon ex- 
 hausted ; you become tired of gazing and admiring ; you 
 sicken at the heartlessness of a tavern life ; and you long 
 for home and regular employment. We are now bending 
 our course by a circuitous route to Liverpool, and in two 
 months we hope to be with you. I do not regret our sepa- 
 ration, but I begin to count the moments which are to pass 
 before I shall spend a Saturday evening with you and 
 
 , with the children around me, and feel once more, 
 
 that happiness is found only at home. May God bless you. 
 
 Affectionately yours. 
 
 Liverpool, September 20, 1815. 
 
 * * * THE more I see of England, the more I am 
 persuaded, that the middle ranks are the only happy ones. 
 The nobility are too rich; they are tempted to deprive 
 
316 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 themselves of real enjoyment, for the sake of spending their 
 wealth. They have country houses, which, better than 
 any thing that I have seen, deserve the name of palaces, 
 and their grounds would remind you of the groves of Eden. 
 Yet they never go there but in November, to hunt. The 
 season of flowers they spend in town ; and, when it be- 
 comes too warm to continue there with comfort, they hurry 
 from one watering-place to another, and submit to be coop- 
 ed up in a little apartment in a crowded and noisy inn, 
 rather than live retired for a single week. We spent one 
 day at Matlock, in the midst of these fashionables ; but we 
 broke from it the next morning, as prisoners would from a 
 dungeon. 
 
 In the situation of the poor, I have been entirely disap- 
 pointed. They are kept out of sight; and, excepting a 
 few street beggars, you see nothing of them in town or 
 country. You see no wretched hovels, like those of many 
 of our farmers ; no decayed buildings just tottering over 
 the heads of the occupants ; but every thing is plain, sub- 
 stantial, and in good repair. The passion for flowers, too, 
 which is universal, throws an air of elegance over the 
 meanest habitations. There is hardly a cottage in the 
 country, which has not a pot of geraniums or roses at the 
 windows, or a vine or fruit-tree trained against its walls. 
 I confess, I cannot understand it ; for it is certain, that one 
 person in nine receives parochial aid, in England. I have 
 bcren struck, too, with the superior industry of the inhabi- 
 tants. No occupation is considered too degrading. Three 
 well-dressed children were yesterday employed, under my 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 317 
 
 window, in collecting the fresh manure from the streets. 
 They gathered it in their hands, and stowed it away in bas- 
 kets filled with straw. I took notice of the same thing fre- 
 quently on the road ; and not only children were so em- 
 ployed, but frequently women. The manufacturing towns 
 are so many blots in the face of this beautiful country. 
 The smoke, and darkness, and dirt are beyond the concep- 
 tion of any one, who has never seen a steam-engine set in 
 motion by sea-coal. You have taken notice of the thick 
 smoke, which rises from a foul chimney just before it be- 
 gins to blaze. In Birmingham, Sheffield, and Leeds, you 
 have the same smoke pouring from a thousand chimneys, 
 and rolling lazily through the streets. In merely riding 
 through Manchester, my neck and bosom were filled with 
 fire cinders, and blackened with soot. Of course the la- 
 borers are always dirty and often unhealthy. In entering 
 Sheffield we saw a large number of men playing cricket in 
 a neighbouring field. I asked if it was a fair. " Oh, no, 
 it is only Monday, and the manufacturers never go to work 
 till Tuesday." And why not ? " Because the wages are 
 so high, it is not necessary." It seems, that when there is 
 a great demand for goods, you cannot get them to work till 
 Wednesday. * * * 
 
318 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 November, 1816. 
 
 MY DEAR , 
 
 I HAVE been intending, these two or three weeks, to 
 visit you ; but, as I can do nothing by candle-light, my 
 hours of activity are compressed within a very narrow com- 
 pass, and I have little leisure for any thing beyond my pro- 
 fessional employment. I suppose you are now settled down 
 in your studies, and begin to form some notion of the work 
 before you. It is an arduous work } but more than repaid by 
 the pleasure which attends it. Believe me, 1 would gladly 
 go back and engage in the race with you. 1 consider the 
 months in which I studied diligently at college (for I did not 
 always study) as the happiest of my life. There is no sit- 
 uation, in which success so immediately attends exertion, 
 in which merit is so certainly followed by reward. After all 
 the clamor which you will hear about the prejudices and 
 partiality of the Government, it will be your sober opinion 
 (when you have left college), that, in every instance, they 
 have acted wisely and faithfully. In the distribution of the 
 college honors, every member of the Immediate Government 
 has an equal vote ; and it is, in the nature of things, impos- 
 sible, that they should all write in favor of an individual, 
 unless his merit had conciliated their regard. For preju- 
 dice and partiality are always capricious. The conclusion, 
 which I wish you to draw from this, is, that success is in 
 your own power, that, if you leave college with more 
 than one superior in your class, your friends will have just 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 319 
 
 cause to be mortified, and to regret the disappointment of 
 their hopes. Do not be startled at this, and complain that 
 I am laying upon you too heavy a burden of responsibility. 
 Let us examine the subject more particularly, and I will 
 venture to say we shall arrive at the same conclusion. I 
 will take for granted, what perhaps is not the fact, that five 
 or six of your classmates have been better prepared than 
 yourself, and that three or four are superior in natural tal- 
 ents. You have then, at most, but ten competitors. Of 
 these, the first class have been better fitted than yourself, 
 either by the accuracy or extent of their studies. But how 
 easily may accuracy be acquired, by devoting an hour or two 
 every day to a revision of your grammars. Do not think 
 this labor beneath your attention; it is more important 
 
 than you imagine. Within ten years, Chief Justice 
 
 has studied critically his Latin and Greek grammars ; and 
 Rufus King, while Ambassador at London, gladly went 
 back to his grammar and dictionary, to qualify himself for the 
 classical conversation of the scholars of England. By de- 
 voting one hour a day to your grammar, reading attentively 
 all the remarks, exceptions, and examples, you will, by the 
 end of the next term, find yourself more than repaid in the 
 ease and rapidity of your progress. After that time, this 
 additional hour of labor bestowed upon classical studies, 
 auxiliary to your general pursuits, upon the rhetorical 
 works of Cicero, for example, or Juvenal, or the Iliad, 
 will soon carry you beyond those who were previously your 
 superiors, both in accuracy and extent of learning. As to 
 the other class, those who are more richly endued with the 
 
320 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 bounties of nature than yourself, if they study as persever- 
 ingly and as judiciously as you, there is no help for it 
 they will make more rapid progress. I have, therefore, al- 
 lowed you to have one superior, and only one, because an 
 union of splendid talents and intense application is rarely 
 found. I do not mean, that persons of remarkable intelli- 
 gence are generally idle ; the contrary is the fact ; for the 
 quickness of their perceptions only stimulates their curiosity 
 and consequently rouses them to greater exertions ; but, in 
 nine cases out of ten, it is industry, mere human industry, 
 that gains the prizes of life. But I will not trouble you 
 with any more prosing. Write to me, that you have a 
 good class, and that you are determined to be at the head 
 of it, and I will be satisfied. * * * 
 
 July, 1818. 
 
 's letter yesterday, my dear , relieved us of a 
 
 part of our anxiety, I wish I could say the greater part. 
 But, though 1 have never been apprehensive, that our 
 friend would sink under his present attack, I have fore- 
 seen, that he must prepare himself for many months per- 
 haps years of languor and disease. I have never thought 
 it a kindness, to conceal from a patient, or his friends, the 
 real extent of danger. Whatever it may be, the mind may 
 be brought to meet it with fortitude and tranquillity. To 
 the individual himself, it may be of infinite consequence, 
 to know in season, that his hold upon life is precarious. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 321 
 
 It is a dangerous habit because it leads to superstition 
 to be continually inquiring, why a particular event hap- 
 pened at a particular time ; or why it came at all. But 
 believing as we do, in the overruling providence of God, 
 we cannot doubt that every event, proceeding from him, 
 was designed by infinite goodness, and directed by infinite 
 wisdom. I have no reason to think, that my life has been 
 marked by any peculiar circumstances ; yet in looking 
 back upon it, I think I can perceive some good purpose 
 intended or produced by every disappointment or trouble 
 which has befallen me. My first serious impressions were 
 received in sickness ; and if they have been preserved or 
 deepened, it has been by repeated attacks of disease. I 
 am certain, that, if I had enjoyed a life of uninterrupted 
 health, I should have been far less deserving of the esteem 
 or affection of my friends. I wish to bring myself, and 
 you, and all my friends, to such a perfect confidence in the 
 goodness of God, as to submit with patience and even 
 cheerfulness, to the discipline of life. I am sure, that we 
 are never nearer to happiness, than when we can speak of 
 the afflictions of life, and, from trust in God, can add, that 
 " none of these things move me." 
 
 We spend many hours in talking about you, and you 
 need not be told, that our feelings are deeply interested. 
 We would give much to see you for half an hour, to hear 
 and tell the thousand little things, which can never be writ- 
 ten. If I were to be indulged in wishing, I do not know 
 that I should desire any thing sooner, than the power of im- 
 pressing my thoughts upon the mind of another, without the 
 
 41 
 
322 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 intervention of language. May not this be a privilege of 
 disembodied spirits ? * * * 
 
 November, 1819. 
 
 WELL, my dear , four weeks have passed since you 
 
 left us ; and, though I determined from the first to write to 
 you immediately, I am but just sitting down to perform my 
 resolution. When the habit of writing is once lost, it re- 
 quires very strenuous exertions to regain it ; and in writing 
 letters to a friend, there is a peculiar difficulty, so many 
 interesting recollections and affectionate wishes crowd at 
 once on the mind, that one knows not how to begin or what 
 to say first. You must accept this as a general apology, 
 first, for not writing soon, and lastly, for not writing well. 
 
 I have very constantly inquired about you, and am pleas- 
 ed to find, that you are enjoying so much of the good socie- 
 ty of . Next to the comfort of a happy family at 
 
 home, I place the enjoyment of intelligent society abroad. 
 Besides the knowledge of life which it affords, it opens to 
 us new views of happiness, corrects our prejudices, and 
 makes our kindly feelings spring out and flow more fresh 
 and constant. When we see always the same faces, in the 
 same room, and hear the same opinions from day to day 
 expressed in the same words, we either acquire a contempt 
 for the littleness and uniformity of things about us, or we 
 imagine, that every thing worth knowing or loving in the 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 333 
 
 world, is within the verge of our own little circle. Half of 
 the selfishness and prejudice of the world would be removed, 
 if people would take a little pains to know the good quali- 
 ties of one another. In every large family, there should be 
 one or two vedettes constantly out, exploring the enemy's 
 country about them. I consider you, at present, as engag- 
 ed in this employment ; and as you seem to have penetrat- 
 ed into the camp, we shall expect from you a minute report 
 of every thing worth noticing in the arms, accoutrements, 
 and discipline of the enemy. In particular, we wish to be 
 informed, whether the ladies are actually clad in armour, or 
 whether, like the Amazons of old, they combat with the 
 right arm and neck uncovered. We are anxious, too, to 
 learn something of the nature of a dandy breast-plate ; and 
 we are entirely at a loss to conjecture, whether the opera- 
 tion of lacing is performed by the labor of men's hands, or 
 by the assistance of a windlass or some other powerful ma- 
 chine. But these are high matters, and not rashly to be 
 trusted to paper. We look with impatience for your re- 
 turn, to have all our doubts resolved. In the mean while, 
 you can tell us of every thing, in the habits and employ- 
 ments of society, which deserves to be imitated. How do 
 people talk, and what do they talk about ? What books do 
 they read ? Whose opinions are most correct, and who are 
 the arbiters of taste and elegance ? You know there is a 
 fashion in conversation, almost as prevalent as that in dress ; 
 and it is necessary to have a certain degree of conformity 
 to the one, as well as to the other. I could tell you in re- 
 turn of * * * 
 
324 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Portsmouth, June 28, 1821. 
 
 MY DEAR , 
 
 IF you were unacquainted with affliction, or were now 
 for the first time to look around you for the sources of con- 
 solation, I should not venture so soon to write to you. I 
 should leave you to the workings of your own mind, and 
 only offer my prayers for you in silence. But I thank 
 God, that the light of Heaven is not now for the first time 
 to beam upon you ; that you are not a stranger either to 
 the language or the feelings of piety ; and that, much as 
 you must suffer, your sorrow is mingled with hopes which 
 you would not exchange for the happiness of the world. 
 
 When I saw the death of your good father announced in 
 the papers yesterday, I was penetrated with the liveliest 
 sorrow. The remembrance of all the kind feelings, and 
 good actions, which I had witnessed in him, came fresh 
 upon me, and I placed myself for a moment in your situa- 
 tion, and felt what it would be to lose a father. Yet why 
 should we mourn ? He has descended to the grave in the 
 midst of his strength and usefulness. We know that " it is 
 well with him," and we may be equally confident, under 
 the government of infinite wisdom and goodness, that it is 
 well for us. Apart from every consideration of a higher 
 nature, there are comforts attending the event, to which you 
 ought not, and cannot be insensible. You are spared the 
 pain of witnessing the decays of old age ; of having your 
 last associations connected with weakness and imbecility ; 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 335 
 
 of being obliged to direct, where you were accustomed to 
 obey ; and of having your respect and veneration for a 
 parent weakened by pity, and even by the necessary ex- 
 ertions of filial piety. He has descended to the grave with 
 a spotless name, and followed by the regrets of the many, 
 whom he was benefiting by his exertions and his example. 
 We could not wish him to have lived till he had ceased to 
 be useful, and was forgotten even by his former friends. 
 He has lived to see you returned in safety, to see your 
 course in life distinctly marked out, and to witness your 
 entrance upon an honorable career of usefulness and im- 
 provement. And though ah 1 his wishes respecting you were 
 not yet accomplished, yet when could he have left you 
 with less anxiety, or with higher hopes ? 
 
 But it is not for us to limit our views to our comforts, or 
 to our prosperity. It is our happiness to know, that every 
 thing here has relation to something hereafter. Your father 
 has been taken away, that you may feel more entirely your 
 dependence upon God alone. He has discharged his duties 
 to you, and to society, and has now left you to supply his 
 place. My dear friend, if that place is well supplied, if 
 those new duties are rightly performed, are you not 'taking 
 a higher station as a moral agent ; are you not earning for 
 yourself a brighter reward ? Is it not the goodness of God, 
 which is placing you in a situation of greater responsibility, 
 and giving you an opportunity of greater moral improve- 
 ment ? Is it not the goodness of God which is adding one 
 more attraction to the invisible world ? and is giving you a 
 new motive for devoting yourself to his service ? Can you 
 
326 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 ever think of " the spirits of the just made perfect," of 
 " the church of the first-born," without thinking of both your 
 parents, and without feeling that you, too, must be there ? 
 And is it not the goodness of God, which is giving you, in 
 early manhood, such strong ties to Heaven ? To have had 
 parents whom we can look back upon with unrningled re- 
 spect and veneration, is no common privilege, and is one 
 not lightly to be valued. I am sure you feel it, as I do ; 
 and you will feel happy, too, that yours are now removed 
 from sin, and danger, and temptation, that their trials are 
 ended, and that they have " finished their course with joy." 
 I pray God to make you worthy of them. * * * 
 
 January 1, 1823. 
 
 MY DEAR , 
 
 IT is not merely in compliance with custom, or as an 
 expression of unmeaning civility, that I sit down, to wish 
 you " a happy new year." I wish you, indeed, a happy, 
 very happy year, a year of exertion and improvement, a 
 year of contentment and hope, a year of blessings received, 
 and of gratitude returned. I wish you health and domestic 
 enjoyment, the society and affection of your friends, and the 
 happiness of knowing that they are worthy of your love. 
 I wish you the highest blessings of Christian friendship, the 
 the unshaken hope of meeting in heaven those whom you 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 337 
 
 have loved upon earth. I wish you, in all the trials of life, 
 constancy and prudence, an active zeal, and an unwearied 
 spirit ; usefulness and diligence in health, in sickness pa- 
 tience, comfort, and cheerfulness ; and in the last hour, an 
 unwavering faith, and a hope full of immortality. 
 
 June, 1823. 
 
 THERE is much animation and some pleasure 
 in this situation. I long, however, to be with you. There 
 is no danger, as you apprehend, of my learning to love this 
 sort of life. There is too much bustle and excitement, and 
 I may add, there is too much perfidy and folly to be wit- 
 nessed, to render it agreeable. My personal friends, how- 
 ever, are men, of whom one might easily be proud. I am 
 receiving, too, from all around me, acts of kindness wholly 
 unexpected and undeserved. One has just occurred worth 
 mentioning. * * * What can I say to all this ? What 
 can I do to deserve it ? When I think of all the happiness 
 I have enjoyed, my heart overflows, I hope with gratitude 
 to God, who has given me such distinguished blessings. I 
 am sure not one repining or discontented thought ought to 
 be indulged for the rest of my life. I have every thing 
 that is usually desired as the means of happiness ; and I 
 feel that greater exertions and higher improvement are re- 
 quired of me, than of any one with whom I am acquainted. 
 For who has been so blessed ? 
 
328 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 I have been twice at church, and heard Mr. , a 
 
 young man, who has a very intelligent countenance, and 
 preaches very well. I think, perhaps I may say I am sure, 
 that I arn willing to accept any system of doctrines which 
 I can be convinced, or can have probable reason to think, 
 are a revelation from God. I endeavour to keep my mind 
 open to conviction, and therefore do not dwell so much upon 
 the progress of party, as I should otherwise do. 
 
 I procured from the bookstore, yesterday, a copy of Dr. 
 Osgood's Sermons, but I have had but little time to look 
 into it. I have read, however, the greater part of a sermon 
 on " the Sabbath," which I think the finest disquisition upon 
 
 the subject that I have ever met with. I believe has 
 
 the volume ; if so, I wish you would borrow it, and read 
 that sermon. 
 
 June, 1824. 
 MY DEAR , 
 
 THE first employment to which I resort on Sunday even- 
 ing is, almost necessarily, a letter to you. I could not, 
 under any circumstances, pass a day without thinking of 
 you ; but on Sunday, spending most of the time in my 
 chamber, almost every thing I think or read is associated 
 with home. The day has been one of uncommon beauty ; 
 the sun has not been a moment obscured, and the brilliant 
 
CORRESPONDENCE, 329 
 
 blue sky has scarcely been marked with a cloud. The 
 winds have been hushed; and though the air was cool, 
 there was something in it of a spring-like feeling, which 
 almost every one remarked. 
 
 I have heard a very sensible young man to-day, Mr. . 
 He preached this afternoon on the duty and importance of 
 religious conversation among Christians. I was much struck 
 with one passage in his sermon. " Christians," said he, 
 (< what do you suppose will be your future employment in 
 heaven ? or V hat is now the employment of the angels who 
 surround the throne of God, or of those happy spirits, who 
 are already received in heaven, and are described as * the 
 just made perfect.' Is it not the praising of God, and 
 dwelling upon his infinite perfections ? Is it not remember- 
 ing and communicating the instances of his boundless love 
 to his creatures? Is it not recounting the wise, though 
 mysterious plans of his providence, by which they have been 
 brought to virtue and happiness ? Is it not striving to in- 
 crease in themselves and those around them, the feelings 
 of reverence and love to God, which already possess their 
 whole souls ; of confidence in his wisdom, which every new 
 fact in his providence impresses more deeply upon them ; 
 of gratitude, humility, and joy for the redemption of the 
 world through Jesus Christ ? Such ought to be, such are, 
 the employments of heaven. But if you were admitted 
 to that happy place, what would be your emotions on 
 finding a dull, blank silence ! silence in heaven ! silence 
 among the spirits of the just ! silence among the angels of 
 God ! Christians ! you are silent when you meet on earth ; 
 
 42 
 
330 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 or you talk of trifles, still worse than silence ! and yet you 
 hope and pray for the employments and happiness of 
 heaven ! " I have not preserved his language ; but you 
 will easily imagine that such thoughts, uttered with an air 
 of simplicity and sincerity, were very impressive. You 
 know we have often talked together upon the same sub- 
 ject ; but I do not know that I ever felt before so strongly, 
 either the propriety or the duty of making the introduction 
 of religious conversation a distinct object, an object to be 
 always had in mind, and to be carried into effect, on every 
 suitable occasion. 
 
 I never feel more strongly attached to you, dear , 
 
 than when I have been for a short time separated. My 
 
 dear , let us pray earnestly for each other, that we may 
 
 not be separated for ever. We are apt to think that because 
 every thing goes on happily with us now, it will always be so. 
 But our lot has been one of almost unexampled prosperity. 
 How little have we done, compared with what we might 
 have done ! how little have we done, compared with what 
 others less advantageously situated have done, and still do ! 
 I do not mean that we have lived altogether idle or useless 
 lives ; but how little have we done for ourselves or others, 
 that has involved any self-denial ! " Doth Job fear God for 
 nought ? " said the tempter. " Hast thou not made an hedge 
 about him, and about all that he hath, on every side ? " If 
 we have been in any measure distinguished from those of 
 our own age and rank in life, by our regularity and domes- 
 tic habits, we have been abundantly rewarded for it in our 
 domestic happiness. It is small merit in us that we remain 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 331 
 
 at home, when we merely follow our inclinations in doing 
 so ; or that we continue a respect for religion which was 
 inculcated on us from infancy 5 or that we give to the 
 poor, what we do not want for ourselves ; or that we pre- 
 serve contentment and cheerfulness . in the possession of 
 almost every earthly comfort. Our danger is, in considering 
 our situation safe, because we are guilty of no flagrant sins, 
 or because we respect religion, and talk about it. My 
 
 dear , I make these reflections more on my own 
 
 account than on yours. I am under no unusual excitement ; 
 but when I feel serious and reflecting, I am dissatisfied, I 
 wish I could say, I tremble for myself, but I cannot bring 
 myself to so adequate a feeling of the importance of the 
 
 subject. My dear , may God bless you, and make 
 
 you every thing good and happy. Let us save ourselves 
 and our children, even at the cost of every thing else which 
 life can bestow. * * * 
 
 Portsmouth, March 18, 1826. 
 
 MY DEAR , 
 
 So far from wondering or being displeased at your 
 anxiety, I am glad to find your attention excited. I am far 
 more solicitous, that you should be a Christian, than that 
 your name should be enrolled in this or that particular sect. 
 The only caution, which I wish to give you at present, is, 
 to avM all metaphysical theology. 
 
332 CORRESPONDENCE, 
 
 The Gospel was first preached to the poor ; it must be$ 
 therefore, in its essentials, such as the poor can understand, 
 without the refined reasonings of scholastic logic. Go then 
 to the Bible, and place yourself, in imagination, at the feet 
 of Jesus Christ. Listen to his instructions, and endeavour 
 to understand them in the sense in which he gave them. 
 Whatever he states as fact, receive as fact, without addition 
 or limitation. Whatever directions he gives are to be in> 
 plicitly followed ; but still without increasing or diminishing 
 them. Half of the errors and bitter animosities of religious 
 sects, have arisen from the attempts of vain or subtile men 
 to engraft their own system of philosophy upon the religion 
 of Jesus Christ. At the same time pray to God fervently, 
 constantly, to be led into the truth ; and while you en- 
 deavour seriously, calmly, and in the exercise of your best 
 faculties, to examine the question, you may feel a happy 
 conviction, that whatever your ultimate opinions may be, 
 you will be preserved from any fatal error* * * * 
 
 The Christian religion may be said to commence with the 
 baptism of John. In Acts xviu. 25. Apollos is said to be 
 " instructed in the way of the Lord, and, being fervent in 
 the spirit, he spake and taught diligently the things of the 
 Lord, knowing only the baptism of John." And in the 
 next chapter, certain persons are spoken of as " disciples," 
 who were baptized only " unto John's baptism." In Mark 
 i. 1. the preaching of John is called " the beginning of the 
 gospel of Jesus," &tc. Now what was this preaching ? 
 " Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 333 
 
 " Bring forth fruits meet for repentance." " John did bap- 
 tize in the wilderness, and preach the baptism of repentance 
 for the remission of sins." When those who heard him, in- 
 quired, " What shall we do then ? " he prescribes kindness 
 and charity, to the common people ; justice, to the tax- 
 gatherers ; a peaceful deportment and habits of content- 
 ment and subordination, to the soldiers. That is, he di- 
 rects each class to practise particularly those virtues, which 
 they were most frequently disposed to violate or neglect. 
 
 I infer from these passages, first, that all men need re- 
 pentance ; secondly, that they are able to repent ; thirdly, 
 that repentance for sin can be proved only by the practice 
 of the opposite virtues ; fourthly, that before the manifes- 
 tation of Jesus Christ, repentance, thus proved, was suffi- 
 cient to obtain the remission of sins. I do not say, that 
 repentance ever deserves the remission of sins ; but that by 
 the mercy of God it was so appointed. 
 
 Let us see if our Saviour made any alteration in these 
 doctrines. " Jesus began to preach, and to say, Repent ; 
 for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Matt. iv. 17. He 
 uses, you perceive, the very words of John, and gives the 
 same reason for repentance, namely, that the reign of the 
 Tieavens (as it is literally) had drawn near. There was to 
 be a revolution in the moral character and condition of 
 men ; a revolution that had not then commenced, but was 
 only at hand ; and a necessary preparation for this, was 
 repentance. As John directed his followers to bring forth 
 fruits meet for repentance, our Saviour, immediately after 
 preaching repentance, delivered the Sermon on the Mount, 
 
334 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 in which he describes the character of those who are truly 
 happy, and enjoins the practice of piety and of a pure and 
 exalted morality. In other words, like John, he commands 
 his followers to " bring forth fruits meet for repentance." 
 But he says nothing of that doctrine, which, according to 
 modern opinions, lies at the foundation of all religion, the 
 total corruption of man's nature. He treats them as actu- 
 ally sinners, but as sinners by their own fault, and of their 
 own will, and as morally capable of performing the condi- 
 tions upon which the favor of God depended. " Ask, and 
 it shall be given you." The gift, then, depends upon the 
 asking. " If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heav- 
 enly Father will also forgive you ; " " With what measure 
 ye mete, it shall be measured to you again ; " and twenty 
 other passages in the discourse, of the same purport. I do 
 not know how these passages may strike your mind, but to 
 me they seem conclusive as to this fact, that men have 
 morally the power of doing the will of God. When the 
 Saviour of men commands me to " ask " and, as an encour- 
 agement to perform the duty, promises, that if I ask, I shall 
 receive, I cannot for a moment doubt, that I have the pow- 
 er to ask, and that my reception of the gift depends upon 
 my first asking. It concerns me as little to know whether 
 the spirit of God first induces me to ask, or cooperates 
 with me in asking, as to know whether the power of God 
 is immediately exerted, or cooperates with something else, 
 in giving physical ability to raise my arm. It is enough for 
 me, that I can raise my arm, without inquiring into the pre- 
 cise connexion between matter and mind ; and it is enough 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 335 
 
 for me, that I can ask, and that when I ask, I shall receive, 
 without knowing the precise mode in which the effect is 
 produced. 
 
 In process of time, after our Saviour had openly mani- 
 fested himself to the world, one other condition of salvation 
 was added to the two former, of repentance and good 
 works ; namely, a belief in Jesus Christ as the Son of God. 
 The tenor of the Scriptures, which I have carefully exam- 
 ined for this purpose, leads me to believe, that the true 
 meaning of this proposition is the following, that Jesus 
 Christ was the chosen messenger of God, and a person of 
 exalted dignity ; that God so spake by him, that the com- 
 mands he gave, the promises he made, and the threaten- 
 ings he denounced, are to be received implicitly as the 
 commands, threatenings, and promises of God. Here, then, 
 we have the whole of Christian duty resolved into repent- 
 ance, faith, and obedience. I find nothing in the Scriptures 
 required beyond these, and the question now is, What is 
 necessary for repentance, faith, and obedience ? 
 
 When John the Baptist, and our Saviour, exhorted men 
 to " repent," what did they consider necessary previous to 
 repentance ? Nothing. They appealed to that sense of 
 guilt which each of their hearers carried in his own bosom ; 
 and they merely called attention to it. The substance of 
 their preaching was, " There is a great moral change 
 about to take place in the world, the kingdom of heaven is 
 at hand ; repent, and take your part in this change ; form a 
 new plan of life, practise virtues of the most sublime char- 
 acter, and thus bring forth fruits meet for repentance." As 
 
336 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 to faith, it is simply belief upon testimony. It is the natu- 
 ral consequence of evidence, when examined, and duly con- 
 sidered. But, as a man may refuse to hear testimony, or 
 to weigh it when heard, faith is in some measure voluntary, 
 and therefore has a moral quality. Hence the command to 
 believe, and the merit (I use the word for want of a better) 
 ascribed to faith, in the Scriptures. When the Apostles 
 went forth to preach, they asserted certain facts, and pro- 
 duced the proof of them. For example, " This Jesus hath 
 God raised up, whereof we all are witnesses." And a 
 man, who believes the facts stated in the Scriptures upon 
 the testimony there given, and dwells upon those facts until 
 he feels their infinite importance, does believe, that Jesus 
 Christ is the Son of God, in the scriptural meaning of the 
 terms. To prevent misunderstanding, it should be added, 
 that faith is often used for the whole of Christian duty, as 
 both repentance and obedience will be the natural conse- 
 quences of belief in the instructions of Jesus Christ. As to 
 obedience, we have already seen what was commanded in 
 the Sermon on the Mount ; every sentence of which implies 
 a moral ability to perform the command. And not a word 
 is said of any thing being necesary previous thereto, or of 
 any particular manner in which obedience is to be paid. 
 
 I come now, after this long introduction, to answer the 
 particular subject of your letter What is regeneration ? 
 I answer, A change of character or situation, considered 
 either with respect to the past character or situation of the 
 individual himself, or with respect to the character and situ- 
 ation of others. The word was one of familiar use among 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 337 
 
 the Jews and Greeks, to express a change of external situa- 
 tion or fortune. When a Gentile embraced the Jewish re- 
 ligion and submitted to the rite of circumcision, he was said 
 to be born again. And in the same sense, the church of 
 England, in the baptism of infants, says, " Seeing now, 
 dearly beloved brethren, that this child is regenerate, and 
 grafted into the body of Christ's church," &,c. 
 
 Cicero, in one of his letters to Atticus (vi. 6.), has the fol- 
 lowing passage ; " Amicorum liters me ad triumphum vo- 
 cant, rem a nobis, ut ego arbitror, propter hanc nah/ysvsalav 
 nostram, non negligendam." " The letters of my friends 
 invite me to a triumph ; a ceremony, in my opinion, not im- 
 proper on account of this my regeneration," alluding to 
 the honors which he had received on his return from exile. 
 
 Probably Matthew xix. 28, " Ye which have followed me 
 in the regeneration," is to be explained of external situa- 
 tion, in somewhat the same manner. But generally, in the 
 Scriptures, " regeneration," " being born again," " being a 
 new creature," &c. mean a change of character, and are 
 nearly synonymous with conversion. It may help us, there- 
 fore, to inquire, What is the meaning of conversion ? con- 
 verted from what ? to what ? " He that converteth a sin- 
 ner from the error of his ways" &c. " Except ye be con- 
 verted," says our Saviour, " and become as little children, 
 ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." They were 
 not to be converted from a corrupt nature, but from the 
 error of their ways ; and they were to become as humble, 
 docile, and free from actual sin (that is, as pure), as little 
 children ; " for of such is the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 43 
 
338 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Most of the difficulties and perplexities of this subject 
 have arisen from the various interpretations of our Saviour's 
 conversation with Nicodemus, a passage of acknowledged 
 obscurity, and concerning which scarcely two commentators 
 are agreed. I wish, however, to call your attention to two 
 or three circumstances, which may help us to understand 
 it. " Art thou a master of Israel," says our Saviour, " and 
 knowest not these things ? " The subject of the conversa- 
 tion, therefore, was such as a Jewish teacher might be ex- 
 pected to know. " If I have told you earthly things, and 
 ye believe not, how shall ye believe if I tell you of heavenly 
 thingsi"' The conversation, therefore, was not of the 
 higher mysteries of the Christian faith ; the subject of it was 
 such, as might be called earthly things, when compared 
 with other topics of a higher nature. 
 
 Nicodemus was a Pharisee, and therefore beyond doubt 
 & formalist, laying great stress on the external acts of relig- 
 ion, proud of his privileges as a Jew, and his distinction as 
 a Pharisee ; he was a ruler of the Jews, and therefore un- 
 questionably believed (as did even the Apostles until after 
 the resurrection) in a temporal Messiah, in a conqueror, 
 who should deliver them from the Roman yoke ; he came 
 to Jesus by night, probably because he was afraid or 
 ashamed to come by day. Yet he acknowledged Jesus to 
 be " a teacher come from God." Now, for what purpose 
 did he come to Jesus ? It might she, first, either to satisfy 
 himself whether Jesus were the Messiah or not ; or, sec- 
 ondly, admitting him to be the Messiah, to ascertain what 
 he should do to secure his favor. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 339 
 
 Whichever his motive might be, our Saviour perfectly 
 understood it, and addressing himself to the precise charac- 
 ter of Nicodemus, he says, " Verily, verily, I say unto thee, 
 Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of 
 God." That Nicodemus should not understand this per- 
 sonal remark, is not surprising. That he, a Jew, must 
 become a proselyte to a new religion, or that he, a Pharisee, 
 must be totally changed, or advanced in his situation and 
 fortune (for you may take it either way), was absolutely 
 incredible to him. Conceiving, therefore, that the words 
 could not be used in their common figurative sense, he 
 resorts to the literal meaning as the more probable of the 
 two. Our Saviour then repeats the assertion in the same 
 emphatical words, " Verily, verily, I say unto thee" but 
 alters the doubtful phrase, of being born again, " Except a 
 man be born of water, and of the spirit," &cc. As if he had 
 said, " You, Nicodemus, Jew, Pharisee, as you are, you 
 must become a proselyte to a new religion, and that openly 
 (not secretly, by night, as you now come to me, but by 
 performing a public act) by being baptized, and what is 
 more, you must be changed in character ; you must become 
 spiritual instead of formal ; you must not rest your hopes in 
 external ordinances ; you must be born of the spirit, as well 
 as of water. * That which is born of the flesh is flesh, 
 and that which is born of the spirit is spirit.' That is, 
 when you make a proselyte to Judaism, and cause him to 
 be born again, by submitting to the external ordinances of 
 Judaism, he is still only a Jew outwardly ; being born of the 
 flesh, he is flesh ; but when his character is changed, when 
 
340 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 he has imbibed the spirit of your religion, then he is * a 
 Jew inwardly,' 'his circumcision is that of the heart, in 
 the spirit, and not in the letter.' You addressed me as a 
 c teacher come from God,' because I worked miracles, and 
 you spoke just now of being born again, in the literal sense 
 of the words, as if you expected something miraculous in 
 the change. But there is no room for wonder ; I am not 
 speaking of any miraculous or sensible agency, but of the 
 operation of natural causes. l Marvel not that I said unto 
 thee, Ye must be born again. The wind bloweth where 
 it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not 
 tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth ; so is every one 
 that is born of the spirit.' You see in the one case, as 
 well as in the other, the effect of natural (that is, not mirac- 
 ulous) causes." 
 
 Your next question is, Whether regeneration does not 
 sometimes take place suddenly, instantaneously. I answer, 
 Yes, sometimes, but probably not often. The operations 
 of the human mind are directed by certain established laws, 
 and, as far as these have been investigated, they act uni- 
 formly in similar cases. The conversion of St. Paul was 
 sudden, instantaneous. He was a young man of ardent 
 feelings, pure morals, and warm piety, zealously devoted to 
 what he believed to be the cause of true religion. He 
 verily believed that he was doing God service in persecuting 
 the Christians, because he verily believed Jesus to be an 
 impostor. But when Jesus, in the brightness of his celes- 
 tial glory, presented himself to him in the way, and spoke 
 to him, he could no longer doubt. There was not room 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 341 
 
 for a moment's hesitation. He became a Christian. And 
 so would any one, who, with the same character, had enter- 
 tained the same doubts. When a gay and thoughtless 
 young man sees one of his companions suddenly drop down 
 and expire, in the midst of his sport, he feels for the time 
 a deep sense of the uncertainty and frailty of human life. 
 If he cherishes this feeling, and dwells upon it, until he 
 has made it habitual, and of course, acts upon this habitual 
 feeling, making it the great business of his life to prepare 
 for death, he is converted, regenerated, he is become a new 
 creature, and suddenly, if you please. But if the same 
 effect is produced upon another young man, not by any 
 one striking event, but by the concurrence of a thousand 
 small events, no one of which has been of sufficient impor- 
 tance to leave a trace on the memory (a serious thought, 
 excited in a solitary walk, renewed on hearing a sermon, 
 recurring again on reading the Bible, and deepened by some 
 disappointment or affliction, again and again in a course of 
 years), this last is converted, regenerated, as well as the 
 former. For it is to the effect we look, and not to the 
 particular manner or time of its production. 
 
 It is not usual, in the course of God's providence, for 
 great effects to be produced at once ; you cannot go back 
 to the beginning of a plant, so as to say, that at one moment 
 it was not, and at the next, it is. You cannot trace back 
 the progress of your own character, so as to find the begin- 
 ning of your knowledge, your virtues, or even of your 
 habits. You have grown up to be what you are in body, 
 and in mind, by the same gradual process. It is in the 
 
342 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 power of God to create men full grown, in the possession of 
 all their faculties and strength, as he did Adam. It is in the 
 power of God to communicate knowledge at once, as he 
 did to the Apostles, who were enabled to speak in languages 
 which they had never learned. And it is in the power of 
 God to call men at once from the love of vice to the practice 
 of virtue. But this is not his ordinary mode. He acts 
 by means, and by gradual means ; by parental instruction, 
 by education, by the example of others, by the events of 
 providence, and the teaching of his spirit. One of the 
 old Puritans used to say, that if parents every where did 
 their duty, domestic education, and not preaching, would be 
 the ordinary means of regeneration. 
 
 You ask, further, if regeneration be brought about by 
 the special agency of the spirit of God, or by our own 
 exertions and means. I answer, in the first place, that we 
 know nothing about the mode of operation of the spirit of 
 God, and therefore the scholastic distinction of a general 
 and special agency is vain and presumptuous, receiving no 
 countenance from the Scriptures, the only source of knowl- 
 edge on this subject. I believe most devoutly in the 
 constant operation of God's spirit upon the human mind; 
 but then I believe, as firmly, that this operation is per- 
 fectly consistent with free agency, and that it cannot be 
 discerned by us. It is probably the same sort of influence 
 which the minds of our fellow-beings exercise over us, and 
 consists in the suggestion of trains of thought. When you 
 read this, I shall be operating upon your mind by the sug- 
 gestion of certain arguments and opinions ; the next train 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 343 
 
 of thought into which you fall, may seem to you to arise 
 naturally from what you are now reading, and yet it may, 
 in fact, be suggested by the spirit of God. I believe, most 
 firmly and habitually, in the superintending providence of 
 God, and yet I do not believe in a succession of mirac- 
 ulous (or special) interferences. A very slight change in 
 the order of succession of my thoughts may lead me to 
 some place, or to do some thing, which, bringing me within 
 the operation of other existing causes, may change the 
 whole course of my life. But enough of this. I answer, 
 secondly, in the language of our Saviour, " If ye, being evil, 
 know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much 
 more shall your heavenly Father give the holy spirit to them 
 that ask him." " For every one that asketh, receiveth, and 
 he that seeketh, findeth ; and to him that knocketh, it shall 
 be opened." Language cannot be plainer. Whether re- 
 generation be brought about by our means and exertions 
 or not, it is certain that our exertions and means are neces- 
 sary for this purpose. We must ask, seek, knock. The 
 very passage which declares, that " it is God who worketh 
 in iiSj both to will and to do, of his good pleasure," com- 
 mands us to " work out our own salvation." 
 
 Your last question is, If regeneration depend upon our 
 own exertions, how and when are we to commence, and be 
 assured we have attained to it ? The first part of the 
 question is already answered. We are to repent, and to 
 bring forth fruits meet for repentance. "Draw nigh to 
 God, and he will draw nigh to you." " I will arise and go 
 to my Father, and say to him, Father, I have sinned." 
 
344 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 The first step is to be made on our part, God is ever 
 ready to receive us. 
 
 As to the second part of the question, we are to judge of 
 our religious state by the unerring rule of our Saviour, by 
 the fruits it produces. " "Whosoever believeth that Jesus is 
 the Christ, is born of God." " Who is he that overcometh 
 the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of 
 God ?" " The fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, long- 
 suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temper- 
 ance." "And they that are Christ's have crucified the 
 flesh with the affections and lusts." Read also the Sermon 
 on the Mount. Whoever can find in himself, in any pre- 
 vailing degree, these characteristics, may safely conclude 
 that he is born of God. He hath the witness in himself. 
 All other assurances of safety are fallacious. A man knows 
 himself to be religious, as he knows himself to be honest, 
 just, or temperate, that is, by his habitual intentions and 
 actions. 
 
 A large number of religious sects believe in the immedi- 
 ate, sensible operations of God's spirit, which many of them 
 conscientiously associate with the holding of their peculiar 
 doctrines. This is the case with the Quakers (who are 
 Arminians, and about half of them Unitarians) ; with the 
 Methodists, both Calvinistic and Arminian ; with the Mo- 
 ravians ; the Smith Baptists (who are generally Unitarians), 
 &tc. Now, as many of these sects are good men, and 
 true Christians, and as it cannot be that the " one spirit" 
 should teach contradictory doctrines, it must be that they 
 mistake the operations of their own minds for divine impulses. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 345 
 
 The authority of Jesus Christ should settle this question. 
 "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall 
 enter into the kingdom of heaven ; but he that doeth the 
 will of my Father which is in heaven." 
 
 I have thus endeavoured to give a particular answer to 
 your questions. I do not present my views to you as the 
 truth, but as my opinion of the truth. I wish you to take 
 nothing on my authority, but search the Scriptures and ex- 
 amine for yourself. Pray to God, who is the Father of 
 lights, to enlighten your understanding and lead you into 
 the knowledge of all necessary truth. Let your prayers be 
 frequent and fervent, and join to them a careful reading of 
 God's word, especially the teachings of Jesus Christ, and 
 you cannot fall into any dangerous error. * * * 
 
 March 26, 1826. 
 
 MY DEAR , 
 
 I THINK you are perplexing yourself with a mere 
 scholastic subtilty, when you doubt the genuineness of your 
 repentance, because you are restrained from sin, only by 
 fear of its consequences to yourself. 
 
 You say, " Did I not see, that it places me in a very crit- 
 ical situation, I know not that I should feel any desire to 
 change my motives and feelings." 
 
 Now I would ask, why you are placed in that critical sit- 
 uation ; why the wrath of God is denounced against sin- 
 
 44 
 
346 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 ners ; and why they are " warned to flee from the wrath to 
 come ? " Are not men addressed as moral agents ? as sus- 
 ceptible of the influence of motives, as influenced in their 
 conduct by their hopes and fears ? Were not these threat- 
 enings intended to produce some effect ? If so, what effect 
 but fear of the anger of God ? If a man acts upon this mo- 
 tive, is it not then a good motive ? A motive, which God 
 himself presents to us ? Surely, when our Saviour told the 
 Jews, " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish," he 
 meant, that they should repent, and for that reason too. 
 
 I think I cannot mistake, in calling a fear of future pun- 
 ishment a Christian motive. It is not, to be sure, the high- 
 est Christian motive, " for perfect love casteth out fear ; " 
 but it is a motive, upon which Christians are again and again 
 called to act, by Jesus Christ and his Apostles. The Chris- 
 tian character is one of gradual growth. This is sufficiently 
 proved by the example and precepts of the Apostles ; and 
 surely none of us, uninspired men, have reason to com- 
 plain, that we have not at once " come unto a perfect man, 
 unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." 
 
 It is easy to make refined metaphysical distinctions, and 
 to show by plausible arguments, that we ought to love vir- 
 tue in the abstract, " the supremely good and fair," as the 
 Stoics called it, for its own sake, and without any refer- 
 ence to ourselves. But such opinions, I think, have no 
 foundation in human nature, and they are certainly at war 
 with the language of Scripture. 
 
 If we are commanded to love God, it is because " he 
 first loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 347 
 
 sins." If we are to bear our " light affliction," it is be- 
 cause " it worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal 
 weight of glory." If we are to rejoice at reviling and per- 
 secution, it is because " great is our reward in heaven." I 
 can feel no douty of the purity of motives, which are thus 
 sanctioned by the words of Jesus Christ. 
 
 I must again warn you against the danger of making 
 mere feeling the test of character, or of spiritual condition. 
 The very night, in which Peter denied his master, he pro- 
 fessed with vehemence (and doubtless, at the same time, 
 felt that he was sincere), " If I should die with thee, I will 
 not deny thee." In the parable of the Pharisee and the 
 Publican, who went up together to the temple to pray, the 
 Pharisee had no doubt of his acceptance with God ; while 
 the Publican had not sufficient confidence even to lift up 
 his eyes to heaven. 
 
 A still higher example is furnished by our Saviour. 
 When he exclaimed in his agony on the cross, " My God, 
 my God, why hast thou forsaken me ! " it cannot be doubt- 
 ed that he enjoyed the favor of God, as fully as when 
 at the grave of Lazarus, he said to his Father, " I knew 
 that thou hearest me always." 
 
 There may be much sensibility on religious subjects ; 
 and much talking, and profession, and preaching, where 
 there is no change of character ; because the whole may 
 arise from mere feeling, sincere feeling, no doubt, at the 
 time, but unsupported by religious principles. This strong 
 feeling may be a very good introduction to a religious life, 
 but it is not itself religion. " Not every one, that saith 
 
348 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heav- 
 en ; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in 
 heaven." And we are told further, that in the day of 
 judgment many shall be rejected, who have even " proph- 
 esied " and " cast out demons," and done " many wonder- 
 ful works." 
 
 The case which you mention of , is doubtless a 
 
 very striking one; and so far as it terminates in a real 
 change of character, in a course of Christian conduct, I shall 
 rejoice in it with all my heart. I think, however, that a 
 more advanced Christian would have been less forward to 
 speak of his willingness not to say his wish to die. St. 
 Paul had labored in his manifold perils thirty-one years be- 
 fore he ventured to express his " desire to depart," and a 
 still longer period, before he was able to say, that he was 
 " now ready to be offered." The first converts of the 
 Apostles, on the day of Pentecost, were endued with the 
 power of working miracles and of speaking in foreign lan- 
 guages to qualify them for preaching the Gospel ; but all I 
 find recorded of their feelings is, that they " did eat their 
 meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God." 
 
 It is unsafe to place any confidence in this willingness to 
 die ; for if it prove any thing, it proves too much. When 
 a votary of Juggernaut throws himself before the car of the 
 idol, to be crushed to pieces by its wheels, what does it 
 prove ? that he is a good man ? a new creature ? regene- 
 rated by the power of Juggernaut? When a deluded Hin- 
 doo widow mounts the funeral pile of her husband, and 
 deliberately suffers herself to be burned to death, do you 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 349 
 
 infer, that she is peculialy a favorite of God, that she will 
 certainly attain that felicity, which she believes herself sure 
 of possessing ? Certainly not ; you merely say, that these 
 several persons are acting under the influence of a very 
 highly excited state of feeling. The truth is, there is no 
 safe rule, but that of our Saviour " By their fruits ye 
 shall know them ; " and time is necessary to bring these 
 fruits to maturity. You can judge but little from the first 
 swelling of the buds. It is not uncommon for those who 
 are most impetuous in their zeal, and the loudest in their 
 religious professions in seasons of general excitement, to re- 
 lapse afterwards into the grossest sins. 
 
 With regard to yourself, if the present excitement be the 
 means of awakening you to a deeper sense of the impor- 
 tance of your situation, as a moral and accountable being ; 
 of impressing you more strongly with a feeling of your ac- 
 tual guilt ; of animating your prayers, and quickening your 
 zeal, I shall rejoice, that you are at , and shall ac- 
 knowledge the goodness of God, which, in his providence, 
 led you there. 
 
 From the tenor of your letter, I apprehend, that you en- 
 tertain an opinion (perhaps unperceived by yourself), that 
 something is necessary previous to repentance ; that some 
 change must be wrought in you before you can repent. 
 But is this the doctrine of the Scriptures ? Does Jesus 
 Christ, when he calls upon men to repent, say one word of 
 their inability to repent ? It is true, that Jesus Christ is 
 said to be exalted by God, to give repentance and remis- 
 sion of sins ; yet it is also said, that " if ye, being evil, 
 
350 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much 
 more shall your heavenly Father give the holy spirit to 
 them that ask him." " Ask, and ye shall receive." Ask 
 repentance, and it shall be given you. Seek the favor of 
 God, and you will certainly find it. 
 
 While I attach so much importance to character, to con- 
 duct, to doing the will of God, you must not understand me 
 as intimating, that the good works of any man can deserve 
 eternal life. On the contrary, I am well assured, that all 
 our hopes of acceptance must be founded upon the mercy 
 of God, upon the undeserved mercy of God. But, then, 
 it has pleased God to reveal to us, that his mercy is not ar- 
 bitrarily bestowed, but is given upon condition (in the same 
 manner as Adam's continuance in Paradise depended upon 
 condition), and the performance of that condition is the 
 only firm ground for our hopes, and the only sure evidence 
 of our acceptance with God. 
 
 I see nothing in your situation to encourage the despon- 
 dency with which you seem to be oppressed. On the con- 
 trary, the Scriptures hold out every thing to animate you. 
 " Him that cometh unto me," says our Saviour, " I will in 
 no wise cast out." " Behold I stand at the door and 
 knock ; if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will 
 come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." 
 There is sophistry enough in the world, to obscure these 
 plain declarations of our Saviour ; but make the Bible, 
 and the Bible only, in its plain, simple import, such as the 
 poor, the blind, and the maimed in the streets of Jerusalem 
 understood it ; make the Bible only your guide, and you 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 351 
 
 will learn to look upon God, as your Father in heaven, who 
 has graciously put your happiness in your own power, and 
 is holding out the most glorious rewards to invite you to 
 virtue and happiness. " Wait on the Lord ; be of good 
 courage, and he shall strengthen thy heart." 
 
 I do not wish you to adopt my views of religion, if they 
 are not supported by the Scriptures. I appeal fearlessly to 
 the Bible. Read it daily, especially the Gospels, the 
 Acts of the Apostles, and the Psalms ; read it with fervent 
 prayer, that your mind may be enlightened, and I can safe- 
 ly promise you, that, in a very little time, you will have 
 "joy and peace in believing." * * * 
 
 THE END. 
 
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