THE WORKS OF THE Right Rev. John England, BISHOP OF CHARLESTON, S. C. WITH MEMOIR, MEMORIALS, NOTES AND FULL INDEX. By HUGH P. McELROHK VOLUME I. BALTIMORE : THE BALTIMORE PUBLISHING COMPANY, No. 174 "West Baltimore Street. COPYRIGHT BY THE BALTIMORE PUBLISHING Co, 1881. freu of The Dalttmnre PubHnMng C'o. v-1 AMONG the writings which have been placed before the American public, those of Bishop England must ever occupy a high place. Whether we regard him as a champion of the Church or as an eloquent orator on literary and social themes, we see a man of subtile genius, solid learning, and that forcible earnestness which in all ages makes its mark. Cumbered with extraneous matter and badly edited, the first edition of his works was speedily exhausted. The object of the present edition is to free his works from those imperfections, and to present them to the public in that shape which the great bishop himself would have chosen had he lived to give the final touches to the chil- dren of his brain. Engaged in a succession of controver- sies, he necessarily reverted to the same subject time and again ; consequently many of his articles were mere repeti- tions, and in these cases the editor has selected that which presents the subject best, fortified by notes from other articles and such sources of information as were within reach. He has also found an immense amount of matter in the 1849 edition, not written by Bishop England, but consisting of newspaper clippings of no interest now, or else of half- digested papers stated to be by "other hands." None of this appears in the present edition; every line in it, except the memoir, notes, etc., is from the pen of the great prelate. iii iv PREFACE. The memoir is not of that species which may be described as " linked sweetness long drawn out ; " the aim is to give, together with a rapid resume of the principal events in his life, a living picture of the man. The notes and the index have been carefully prepared, and the latter will be found useful to those who desire to delve in the rich literary and historical mines embedded in these volumes. Long and faithful labor has been given to the work, and it is trusted that it will be appreciated, not only by Catholics, but also by the general public. H. P. M. VOLUME I. PREFACE, -------_.-.- ill MEMOIE, -- T ii MEMORIALS, ..._._..__. xv iii EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY, i THE PLEASURES OP THE SCHOLAR, ...... 33 DUELLING, ---._....... 61 CLASSICAL EDUCATION, --.....__ 93 DESCENT OP JEXEAS INTO HADES, ....... 130 THE CHARACTER OP WASHINGTON, -....- 162 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS, ........ 208 RELIGION OF AMERICAN INDIANS, ...... 252 PEN PICTURES OF ROME, - - 273 THE WALDENSES, - -- 334 HISTORICAL SKETCH OF DENMARK, --.-__. 333 " " " SWEDEN, - - 337 " " NORWAY, 345 " " " RUSSIA, , 349 " " " EUROPEAN TURKEY, 365 " " " THE GUEZK SCHISM, - ... 403 ST. PETER'S ROMAN EPISCOPATE, ....... 415 THE IRISH FRANCHISE, --------- 480 v MEMOIR OF BISHOP EKGLAHD. "JOHN ENGLAND is a bad boy, because he will not learn how to dance." Such waS the sentence found in a school-book of John England's. What a revelation ! Evidently a tough character from the start ; achieving the reputation of a "bad boy" "because he would not learn how to dance." And he never did learn how "to dance;" never would "trip the light fantastic toe " to the most persuasive strains of official harp and viol or under threat even of the lash of power. Ancestors likewise; setting at defiance laws of tyranny, teaching a hedge-school out there in the mountain waste of Ireland, and keeping alive memories of the old Keltic glory. "What though the stout-hearted young fellow, destined to become the father of a great man, a man in every sense of the word what though he be thrown into prison for teaching he laughs at their heretical oaths, and escapes to resume his school in the ditch. Thus handed down, the strong old spirit, along with good blood, was born into John England in the classic city of Cork, Sept. 23, 1786. Chaotic world into which this chubby, strong-fisted baby came crying I doubt not. Thunders of the great Revolution in the far new world not yet died away ; Europe, corrupt to the heart, quivering over a terrific social volcano; all eyes blinded by the signs of the lightning of God's wrath blazing in the sky. "When the time comes, this little babe, grown up to man's estate, will take share in the world-wide Revolution going on ; most notably in recalling Ireland, who was dangerously fascinated by the French Revolution, from her imitation, just beginning, of the Revolu- tion's atheistic excesses. Fifteen years of peace, however, glided on ; of peace, but not of idle- ness. Few anecdotes of this youth, those immortal myths which are the natural growth or fuugi of all great men's biographies, are handed down to us. He was persecuted and called the little "Papist" in this Cork school. In after life, it is said, he met one of his chief tormenters in the church, and fell into such a rage that he could with difficulty control his emotion and proceed with the Mass. Having signified a desire to enter the priesthood, Rt. Rev. Francis Moylan placed him in the charge of Rev. Robert McCarthy, dean of the diocese. Before deciding conclusively on his vocation, he studied law under an eminent barrister of Cork a train- (vii) viii MEMOIR. ing of which he afterwards showed the rich effect in his masterly style of summarizing arguments. Having concluded that the priesthood was his calling, on the 31st of August, 1803, he entered the College of Carlow. The energy and untiring zeal of the man developed early. "Work while it is day, for the night cometh, when no man can work," was his motto. Procuring the establishment of a female penitentiary, and schools for poor boys and girls ; delivering discourses in the parish chapel ; laboring among the militia stationed in Carlow these are the glimpses we get of his five years of study in college. A curious incident happened in his military missionism. The officer in command was persuaded, by misrepresentations, to bring the soldiers who attended his instructions to court-martial ; but, to- the discomfiture of the fanatics, the trial ended with the acquittal of the men, the officer even encouraging them to continue in their course. In his old age and in far-away America, the bishop never tired of recalling this incident and of expressing his delight that his mission, like that of St. Francis de Sales, began amongst the military. In 1808 he returned to Cork for the purpose of receiving holy orders. He was made deacon on October 9, and the following day was ordained to the priesthood, by dispensation, as he had not reached the canonical age. Immediately appointed lecturer at the cathedral,* he delivered there a series of brilliant discourses on the Old and New Testaments. Besides these, he preached sermons in the small chapel of the Presentation Convent, which was always crowded by persons eager to hear his magical words. Nor did he pause at words. His zeal expressed itself in practical works. The present Magdalen Asylum, built at the expense of Mr. Therry, was in pro- cess of erection, and always being touched with a peculiar pity for the poor outcasts of the world, he turned his attention to this institution and was largely instrumental in making it a success. In the May of 1808 he estab- lished a monthly periodical, Religious Repertory, conducting it for several years, and gaining here the first experience of that journalism which after- wards was of so much use. A free circulating library in the parish of St. Mary's, Shandon, was another of his works. His next labor was visiting the city jail, for the purpose of carrying con- solation to the unfortunate prisoners. Here he toiled, unpaid, except by his own conscience, for many years ; especially among the poor fellows, chiefly " political criminals," destined to be sent out into that bleak world of Aus- tralia, with little chance of seeing a priest in the bushes of an unsettled country. One of his adventures while on this mission, together with many " North Cork Chapel," says Mr. Wm. Goo. Read ; but I am Inclined to believe, from the strongest evidences, that the cathedral was the right place. MEMOIR. ix others too horrible to describe, confirmed in him that undying hatred, which every Irishman cherishes with sacred care, of the despotism sitting like an incubus upon unhappy Ireland. A prisoner, buried in a fetid dungeon, had given way to frantic despair. Soothed by the gentle ministrations of Father England, the man confessed he had been an emissary of the government. What was, and is, the business of an "emissary cf the government?" Listen. An " emissary of the government " made up conspiracies, and then betrayed them. Possessed at length of too many secrets, the government distrusted him, and entrapped him on an occasion of usual felony. This was the reason of his despair. Father England assured him that steps would be taken for his relief, and promised to come back next day. He did so, but the prisoner was gone. Now for the sequel of this tragic story. Years afterwards a man called on the Bishop of Charleston, and told him he had seen the unfortunate wretch in an obscure prison of India. The man told the narrator his dreadful history and its end. The cold- blooded, cruel, heartless miscreant* who ruled Ireland then, had become alarmed at England's interference, and had spirited the culprit away. Bays of light, penetrating the dark night behind us, reveal this inde- fatigible man still at work. In 1812 he was president of the College of St. Mary, teaching pupils their theological course. In the same year his. first recorded experience in politics took place. He was fond in after life of dilating on this feat. For the two Parliamentary seats of Cork there were three candidates one Liberal and two wealthy Tories who were also malignant Orangemen. Most of the electors were tenants of the two Tories, and it was feared that if they dared to vote in two Liberals, the result would be materially disastrous to the voters. But it was determined to elect one Liberal. But how to do so? Father Eng- land doffed his professor's gown for the day, and, under pledge not to be interfered with in any way nor pestered by the usual swarm of polit- ical advisers, took dictatorial charge of the matter. The result, instead of being a tragedy, was a rich comedy. lie organized a large body of voters, sworn to cast their ballots as he directed, and whose prudence he could rely on. These he posted, on the day of election, in a position apart, strictly binding them to hold no intercourse with any one but himself. Then he sent for the Tory agents and chatted with them in this pleasant manner: "A great many of our party are willing to vote for one or other of your respective candidates, but they fear that their right to vote for the Liberal candidate will be interfered with. Now, gentlemen, I warn you I I shall have you and your associates nar- * Byron's line. X MEMOIR. rowly watched, and every instance of intimidation or attempt at it I will instantly punish by voting ten men for your Tory adversary." They apprehended the situation ; they were caught. The polling began. Very soon a Catholic voter was threatened by his landlord's agent. The case was reported to the chairman. In terror the agent rushed to Dr. Eng- land, explaining and apologizing ; but nothing would do ; the ten votes were promptly deposited for the rival Tory and the Liberal. There was no trouble after this. When the Liberal candidate was so far ahead that defeat was impossible, the professor, merrily telling them they had behaved very well, left the Tory agents to canvass the remaining voters. In 1813 a jubilee, in which Dr. England took a leading part, was granted by the Pope to the Catholics of Cork, on the completion of their new cathedral. Another anecdote is related of Dr. England as occurring in the following year. Traveling from Cork to Dublin, on important dio- cesan business, the fall of snow during the night prevented the coach from going beyond Carlow. He, with some others whose business was urgent, set out to walk the rest of the way. Sinking exhausted in the icy cold, his companions abandoned him to his fate. A countryman, who had great difficulty in awakening him, found him in a comatose condi- tion. "I am a priest," was all he could say, but it was enough. The faithful Kelt at once put forth all his energies and conveyed him to the shelter of his cabin nearby. Destiny preserved him for the doing of great things. That very year there was need of his voice and his pen in the land, and his voice was raised, his pen set to work. Of all the vile acts of which the miserable Castlereagh was guilty in the course of a shameful life ended by his own hand, that of trying to subsidize the Catholic clergy, and thereby enslave them to the State, was perhaps the most vile. The nature of the attempt may be learned by turning to the last passages of "Epochs of Irish History," and the result of the civil power dabbling in Church affairs is most powerfully shown in the sketch of the Greek Schism, which is one of the best and most compact studies of that terrible eccle- siastical disaster extant. The government was willing to grant Catholic emancipation, provided a veto upon ecclesiastical nominations was allowed to the crown, and m order to gain the clergy offered to pay them sala- ries. The heartless aristocracy and gentry were willing to give in. Some of the hierarchy gaped also for the gilded bait in the centre of which was a deadly poison taint. But the noble priests of Ireland stood firm. Nevertheless, there was danger in the air. England boriowed money on his own responsibility, and, in opposition to the wishes even of his dio- MEMOIR. xi cesan, assumed editorial charge of the Cork Mercantile Chronicle, the failing organ of the Liberal party. In the columns of this journal he so clearly and forcibly showed the evil character of this step, at once trea- son to their country and heresy to their creed, that the whole nation as a solid unit rejected the scheme with scorn. He then showed the grounds upon which the agitation for true Cath- olic emancipation should be carried on, and when O'Connell began his crusade he had no abler backer than England. The value of his assist- ance to the great Agitator could not be better told in a hundred tomes than in the pithy exclamation of O'Connell later in life: "With Bishop England at my back. I would not fear the whole world before me." It was net to be expected that the fearless journalist which England proved himself to be would escape the rigors of tyrannical laws. On one occasion he scathingly commented on the corruption of the judges and the iniquity of packed Orange juries. Earl Talbot, the Tory Lord Lieu- tenant, was down on him at once. A fine of five hundred pounds was his reward for telling the truth, in default of which for he could not pay it he took his place in the cell of the jail his father had occu- pied. Again: O'Connell went into the newspaper office while the editor was absent, and wrote a scorching article. Proceedings were begun. The only person in the office who could identify O'Connell's caligraphy was the journeyman a Protestant who had set the piece, but he was true as steel. The real offender not being found, the editor was responsible ; but, as chance would have it, the official certificate of editorship had been cancelled that very day, and thus the charge could not be brought home to England. Then the poor journeyman was clapped into prison, and during many months the Catholics supported his family. At last it leaked out that he was only detained to annoy the Liberals ; supplies ceased, and the journeyman was allowed to go free. On severing his connection with the paper, Dr. Murphy, who had succeeded Bishop Moylan, appointed England in 1817 to the parish of Bandon. This was the celebrated town over whose entrance gate was written the inscription welcoming "the Turk, the Atheist, and the Jew," but banning " the Papist."* Much of the bigotry still remained. For three years t Father England labored to overcome it, working, preaching, * Dean Swift, on seeing the inscription, extemporized the following retort: "He who wrote this wrote it well, For the same is writ o'er the gate of hell." tMr. Read saya "six years," but this could not be, for be received the appointment in 1817 and left for America in 1820. xil MEMOIR. and lecturing, until finally he brought the factions together in a genial social band. While here an attempt to assassinate him failed. A great Hand was guarding that life destined for an arena of noble toil. The call came. After being twelve years a priest, he was nominated to the just created See of Charleston, S. C. He was consecrated at St. Finbar's Cathedral September 21, 1820. * Characteristically, he refused to take the usual oath of allegiance, having resolved never to wear a mitre xmder the British flag. "As soon as I reach my see,'! he said, " my first step will be to renounce this allegiance ; therefore, the form is now idle and useless." Sailing from Belfast, he arrived in Charleston Decem- ber 30, 1820. He was accompanied by Father Corkery, the first priest he ever ordained, two or three students, and his sister, Johanna Monica England, t The new Diocese of Charleston comprised the three States of North and South Carolina and Georgia. It embraced an area of 127,500 square miles, and contained a white and black population of 1,063,000, of whom about 1,000 were Catholics. This was the prospect the young bishop had to face. There were two apologies for churches mere shanties with congregations torn by scandals, and two priests, who fled on his arrival. Father Corkery died soon after, and he was left alone. Never perhaps since the time of the Apostles, except in the case of missionaries to heathen lands, was a bishop reduced to such a state before. There was scarcely a shelter to cover his head, and the great Protestant Tradition of England was in a most virile and flourishing condition. Ignorance of the truths of the Church made his task dangerous as well as arduous. Theie he was, to hew out and build up a diocese, while he struggled to beat down the tradition of bigotry. He was like a pioneer of the West, holding the plow with one hand and the rifle with the other. Nothing daunted, he bravely put his hands to work; ay, and head and heart, too. For that same head had in it thoughts destined to live, and in that heart flowed placid streams of poetry and rushing torrents of eloquence, which would, when unpent. carry everything before them from end to end of the land. An extensive lot at the upper extremity of Broad street, then on the outskirts, but now in the heart of the city, was purchased ; a tein- * Bisbop Murphy, assisted by Bishops Moran, of Ossory, and Kelley, of ItJch- mond, Va., performed the ceremony. tThls estimable lady died in a few years. MEMOIR. porary wooden structure was erected to do duty for a church, and a humble cottage beside it served lor the episcopal palace. Unterrified by the alarm and horror his presence excited, behold him then walking down Broad street, hands clasped behind back, buckled shoes, traditional knee- short clothes, frockcoat with military flaps, wide-brimmed Quaker hat, purple Roman collar, close-buttoned vest never with cigar or snuff-box iu hand, for he detested Virginia's weed such he is, poor as a beggar, but independent as a king. Recognizing at once the value of the press as an auxiliary of the Church, almost the first work of the bishop was to establish the United Slates Catholic Miscellany.* The Miscellany was practically the first Catholic journal in the United States. It existed forty years, until 1861, when it perished through the beginning of the Civil War. Few of its numbers have escaped the rav- ages of fire. The library edition was destroyed in the disastrous conflagration in Charleston, 1861. There is only one copy extant, possessed by the bishop's family in Cork. Miss England aided her brother, until her death, in conducting the Miscellany. Her pen frequently wrote in its columns, and her gentleness often toned down the sternness of his logic. A character- istic anecdote is told of the bishop in this connection. When the weekly issue was threatened from lack of help or other causes, be often went into the printing office and composed those brilliant articles which charmed alike the most fastidious Catholic and Protestant circles, not in writing, but in type! His most important work, however, was the formation of a diocesan seminary in 1824, of which Andrew Byrne, afterwards Bishop of Little Rock, was the first student. Very soon he had a band of fifty zealous priests, most of them young men. Churches rose like magic before his steps. Frail most of them' were, but foundations for after times. The Cathedral of St. Finbar, in Charleston, lasted thirty years, when at length it made way for the new one, built on a scale of great magnificence, but it was destroyed by the fire of 1861. Thus Bishop England's dream van- ished. He had never seen even the beginning of its realization. The cathedral will, however, soon be replaced by a fine structure, for which a large amount of money has been raised. *The statement in Father O'Connell's book. "Catholicity In the Carolines and Georgia," is inaccurate. The controversy on the Roman Chancery, which led to the editor of the Courier refusing to insert his replies except as advertisements, occurred in 1839, long after the Miscellany was established. These advertisements - the best that he could do were too condensed and also covered too much ground in following the ramblinga of his adversary. A powerful and profound article on the 6a*no subject id that on "Dispensation" in the second volume. "iv MEMOIR. An outbreak of the plague known as the "Stranger's Fever," and whose name sufficiently describes its character, gave him another labor from which he did not shrink. Day and night he was found in the most noisome quarters for Charleston, though a small city, has some spots in it as bad as those of New York carrying bodily and spiritual comfort to the sufferers. Numbers of orphans were left, whom the State very humanely provided for by the erection of an asylum. But this institution fell under sectarian control, and Bishop England determined, at whatever cost, to found a school in Charleston, where sectarianism was unknown, and where Catholic, Jew, or Protestant could receive a first- rate education. He was lavish of his slender means, introducing the best talent of Europe as teachers, and soon the school was crowded with the elite of the city and State. It flourished for seven years, collapsing in 1831. Men of every class and profession, generals, statesmen, judges, lit- terateurs, even clergymen of various sects, at this day gratefully acknow- ledge the impulse and the strange intellectual power which the great bishop engrafted on their minds at this school. Another of his labors was the care of the poor, friendless slaves. He began to teach them, founding a school for the males under care of a priest, and a school for the females under care of the Sisters of Mercy. He was compelled to suspend the slave schools by the passage of a law making it criminal to teach a slave to read and write, but he continued the schools for emancipated blacks. So far as religion, the main thing after all, was concerned, his actions were not hampered by the slave owners, who soon came to recognize the important aids to virtue ami fidelity which the teaching of the Church afforded. Averse to accept the strictness of the confessional themselves, they would have been unwise indeed not to encourage, as they did, its introduction among a race hitherto devoid of morality. Dearly did Bishop England love his poor slaves. He arranged separate services for them, saying Uass and preach- ing to them in person, and subordinating everything to this pious duty. Although in his writings he defended the institution of slavery as just under existing laws, he set forth with stern logic the duties and obliga- tions of masters, and was in this far ahead of his age. The schools of the alxr.'e Sisters were intended for the lower orders. To reach the hearts of the wealthier classes, Bishop England, in 1834, procured a colony from the Ursuline Convent at Blackrock, near Cork, .ind planted it in the young diocese. The new project miscarried at first. Prejudice was so great that Protestants refused to send their daughters t<> this really excellent school, and Catholics were too poor to sustain it. MEMOIR. XV After lingering twenty years, the older members returned to the parent house, and Bishop Reynolds sent the others to Cincinnati. A dozen years more passed along before Bishop Lynch succeeded in recalling the latter from exile, and locating them at Valle Crucis, wear Columbia. Their labors were here renewed under brighter auspices; up to the present 'day the school is celebrated all over the South as one of the very highest order. Protestants of the highest society prefer to send their daughters there. Thus Bishop England's work, though going wrong at first, has finally succeeded. In 1835 he undertook the mission of Apostolic Delegate to San Do- mingo, where religion, since the violent separation from the mother country, had fallen into exceeding looseness. He was received by President Boyer with all becoming honors. He restored Catholic discipline, revived the spirit of faith, and ordained a colored man of great learning. On the whole, the wisdom with which he managed this delegate aifair was among the greatest of his works, and his reports, preserved in the archives of Rome, are documents which will serve for future historians to build on. Daring this mission, Rt. Rev. William Clancy was appointed Coad- jutor Bishop, and he managed the affairs of the diocese for two years. Amid all these labors, he traveled incessantly over his vast diocese, at great personal inconvenience ; preaching in court houses, barns,~~or in the open fields; ministering on the bed of sickness, now on the bleak moun- tain side, now in the plague-stricken, sun-scorched streets of Charleston, often with his feet upon the wet ground, and otherwise suffering from scanty raiment which he had noc the means to obtain, for the poor pit- tances he collected were dispensed to the poor or used in payment of refutations of foul calumnies inserted in the papers as advertisements. Writing under these difficulties, he found it impossible to make his essays entirely accurate or extensive. Without proper revision, they were, under the necessities of the times, hastily given to the public, and in the present edition the editor has only made such emendations as were obviously required under the circumstances. Bishop England crossed the ocean four times, visiting Rome, Vienna, and Paris in the interests of his poor diocese, and frequently journeyed to different parts of the Union. He cherished two special devotions, without which a man may be great but never good a fervent love of our Lord in the Blessed Sacra- ment, and a tender, childlike trust in the Blessed Virgin. Yet this man, when the bloody hand of religious bigotry was raised XVI MEMOIR. in the land, was the promptest to crush it. After appealing in vain to the civil authorities for protection from the mob, he called out the Irish volunteers of Charleston. Look out now, you Puritan mob ; there is fight in front of you. Sleek officiality was alarmed. No more talk of burning down the churches and houses of Catholics. Peace must be pre- served. And so passed off this episode, and South Carolina was saved from the ineffaceable disgrace which is stamped upon Massachusetts. Bnt the time is coming when he would stand no longer foremost in the ranks of the Church militant. Voices were even now speaking to him, saying : " Thine eyes shall see the King in His glory ; they shall behold the land that is very far off." That iron frame was broken at last. Along the rugged mountain side he had borne his cross to Calvary, and now he was to be crucified there. After the Easter of 1841 he visited Europe for the last time. He paid his respects to the Holy Father. Returning the following autumn, he bade a final adieu to his sister, the Superioress of the Presentation Convent at Cork, his brother, Rev. Thomas England, the parish priest of Passage, and a large circle of Irish friends. Never did the love of old Ireland leave his heart. The voyage was long and stormy, and when he landed in Philadel- phia he was sick unto death. At the request of Bishop Kenrick, and concealing the malignant disease which was wasting him, he delivered a course of lectures and preached seventeen nights successively with his usual power and brilliance. Next he preached five sermons in Baltimore. He always held an annual retreat for his clergy in Charleston, and he had promised to be with them never having been known to fail in keep- ing his apppointment. He did not appear. What was the matter? People began to grow uneasy. He got home in December, all broken up. He insisted on preaching- and took part in the Christmas ceremonies. That was the last. Soon afterwards he took to bed, and lay there suffering for three months. He saw the end, and fortified himself for it by frequent Communions. All temporal matters were calmly arranged. A Solemn High Mass was offered in the cathedral in his behalf April 10, 1842, after which the clergy were summoned to his side. He had been a friend to the Israelites when hands Were lifted to strike them, and they now testified their gratitude by praying in the synagogue for his recovery. He received the Sacrament of Extreme Unction in a. composed mood, saying, as he held the Crucifix before him and kissed it, " Sweet Jesus, who didst deign to die for me in this ignominious man- MEMOIR. xvn ner, regard with compassion the condition of Thy servant, and be with him in the succeeding hour of trial." He spoke wise words of advice to the kneeling clergy around him for fully thirty minutes.. In the afternoon the seminarians, the dear children whom he was raising up to spread the light of the Gospel in this land, were called to his bedside. Let one of them, Father O'Connell, speak: " He lay like a sick lion ; all his strength was gone. The once manly frame was now a grand ruin from the ravages of sickness ; nothing remained of his manly, noble form, admired by the gaze of millions, and never seen but in the gap of danger or in the van of battle, nothing remained but the quenchless lustre of the eye, through which the won- derfully gifted soul still blazed forth in all the splendor of its native brightness. I saw him next, and for the last time, the following morn- ing, April 11, 1842, at five o'clock, the hour when he rose to say his Mass during his life unfailingly. The agony of death was upon him ; he had already received the Holy Unction ; his episcopal robe and stole were on his neck, the ring gleamed from his white hand, outspread on the coverlid as if in the act of blessing An audible distinct word was spoken, the last on earth of many ' mercy ' a whiteness was suddenly diffused over the face, which now shone like untrodden snow. After the priest had said, ' Depart, Christian soul, out of the world, in the name of God the Father, who created thee, in the name of God the Son, who redeemed thee, in the name of the Holy Ghost, who sanctified thee,' he added : ' Let us pray for the soul of the departed. Bishop England is dead.'" " Consider, O Israel, for them that are dead, wounded in thy high places. The illustrious of Israel are slain upon thy mountains. How are the valiant fallen and the weapons of war perished ! There was cast away the shield of the valiant as though he had not been anointed with oil. I grieve for thee; as a mother loveth her only son did I love thee."* * Bishop Keorick, of Philadelphia, afterwards Archbishop of Baltimore, cele- brated the Mass of Requiem and pronounced the funeral sermon. Not only were a large number of distinguished Catholics present, but also many Protestants and Jews of the best families from all parts of the country. VESTRIES OF CHARLESTON, S. C. On Monday, April 20, 1842, the vestries of the Church of St. Mary's, Hasell street, and the Church of St. Patrick, on the Neck, were invited to join that of the cathedral, in the library of the seminary, to give expression to their feelings on their late bereavement. A committee of three from each of the vestries (to which the clergy of the respective churches were added) was appointed to report at an adjourned meeting, to be held the next evening at the same hour and place, when the following preamble and resolutions were unanimously adopted. The Very Rev. Administrator, being through illness unable to attend, he appointed the Rev. Doctor Lynch to preside on both occasions. " PREAMBLE. As time rolls on its troubled stream into the peaceful waters of eternity it occasionally happens to bear as its burden some being more valued, more beloved and more useful than those whom every day life presents to our view, whose loss leaves a void in the community which can- not be filled up, casts a gloom over those prospects which were brightened by his labors, takes from a fond and devoted people the object of their ad- miration, their respect, and their love, and leaves behind but the memory of his virtues, his piety and his usefulness. Too well and tviily have we experienced this during the past week in the demise of our pious, learned and much beloved bishop an event as unexpected as it is mournful, bringing sorrow and sadness to all who knew him in public and private life, and making desolate the hearts of his own affectionate children, who from his lips were gladdened with the joyful tones of a Redeemer's promise, and by his hands were fed with that Bread which sustains man on his earthly journey. The child mourns the loss of a dearly beloved parent, and the burning tear of sorrow starts to his eye at affection's call as he beholds his father's dust restored to its parent clay. The friend breathes forth the silent, sad sigh of affectionate remembrance as he gazes on the cold remains of one united to him in the bonds of mutual attachment. But our father, our dearest father has left us ; our friend, our best of friends has gone from the world of many trials ; he in whom we centered all our confidence, on whom wo depended for strength and (xvlil) MEMORIALS. Six support, whose voice was ever ready at duty's call to be raised in the T indication of ourselves, our country and our religion, the pride of our hearts, the object of our love has gone, gone forever. "Oh, bitter thought! Oh, sorrowful recollection! Three months ago, as the rich tide of his eloquence was poured forth in portraying the glories, the justice and mercy of God, calling man from the ways of sin, and holding before his view the pardon obtained by a Saviour's blood ; whe could form the opinion that at this day his remains would lie cold beneath his own episcopal chair; and the voice that so often edified and delighted thousands with the fascinating tones of its own peculiar melody; should be hushed forever in the silence of the mouldering tomb ? But such is the lot of man, such the uncertainty of human speculaton. " ' Man proposes, but God alone disposes.' "United with us in the sacred bonds of the Holy Catholic f;iith, endeared to us by years of the most indefatigable exertions to promote the spiritual welfare of ourselves and our children, and connected with us by all those social ties that link man to man, he has gone to the home of the blessed, there to reap the reward of his labors from the hands of that God whom he so faithfully served, whilst he leaves behind him on earth a name that will not be forgotten as long as virtue, piety and talents are respected and revered. As a Catholic, his faith was as strong as the rock of ages on which Christianity is founded ; as a patriot, he was trained in the school of a Fitzgerald and an Emmet, where the fisry ordeal of persecution was the test of his sincerity ; as a scholar, his mind was pro- found, his imagination fertile and productive, his acquirements various and extensive ; and last, but not least, as a friend, he was one of those friends in need who are friends indeed. Never during his long and eventful career, whilst he defended his own, did he interfere with the religious opinions of others the burden of his preaching, more fully developed in his actions being 'Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.' How well then may we say that we all suffered on his demise : The community in losing one of its most virtuous, eminent and useful citizens ; the social circle one of its greatest ornaments, whose racy wit charmed whilst it brightened all around; religion, one of its ablest defenders; and humanity one of its warmest supporters : the widow, her guardian and protector; the homeless orphan, its father and preserver. Difficult will be the task to find his like again. The funeral bell has tolled his requiem dirge, the Church has chanted her sublime but mournful L'ibera, over his remains, the incense of the holy prayer for the repose of his soul has xx MEMORIALS. ascended to the altar of the Deity all now is silent, sad and still ; but though his star has forever set, his memory will ever remain green in our souls, and though his spirit has fled from its tenement of clay, still will he live in our heart's best affections. But while we mourn for the dead, the illustrious dead, never can we be forgetful of those who differ from us in faith, but unite with us in charity those whose souls are above the influence of prejudice, and who are ever ready to pay a deserved tribute to learning, piety and religion ; and whilst we in conscience steadfastly adhere to the holy and venerable creed of Catholicity, we must fully appreciate the liberal conduct of our dissenting brethren, and the high respect shown by persons of all denominations to the memory of our deceased illustrious bishop : Therefore, be it resolved, " 1. That the altars of the three Catholic churches of this city and the Neck be hung for one month with some distinguishing badge of mourning, to testify publicly the sorrow and respect of their respective congregations for their much beloved and ever to be lamented bishop, whose untimely death is to them, in common with their Catholic brethren in the South, an irreparable loss. " 2. That as another mark of the grief and respect of the aforesaid congregations on this melancholy occasion, each member of them is hereby requested to wear for at least one month some badge of mourning ; and that each member of the three vestries do wear a crape on his left arm for the same period of time. "3. That we hereby tender our grateful thanks to the Eight Rev. Dr. Kenrick, the distinguished administrator of the Diocese of Philadelphia, for his kindness in visiting us on this sorrowful occasion, and for the consolation he afforded us by his eloquent and heai't-touching eulogy on the character and labors of our beloved and zealous bishop. " 4. That the thanks of the three Catholic congregations of the city and the Neck are due to and are hereby tendered to the dissenting clergy of the State, to his Honor the Mayor, the Judges of the Courts in session during our affliction, the Collector of the Port, and the citizens generally, for the respect paid and liberal feeling shown by them on the death of our highly gifted and much esteemed prelate. "P. N. LYNCH, D.D., Chairman. "A. LAFITTE, Secretary." MEMORIALS. xxi WASHINGTON LIGHT INFANTRY OF CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA. At an extra meeting of the Washington Light Infantry, held on the 25th of April, 1842, the following resolutions were offered by S. A. Huiibut : "Although it may seem in some degree incongruous to mingle the name and the functions of a. clergyman with those of a military body such as ours, yet in view of the close connection of feeling which united this company with the Rt. Rev. Bishop England, our deceased chaplain, and inasmuch as the services he has rendered us and the inscription of his name as an honorary member of this corps give us the right publicly to express those sentiments of respect and regard which we all, as individuals, feel for his memory. Be it, therefore, "Resolved, That it is with no ordinary feelings of sorrow that the company thus publicly recognizes the loss from among its members of the Right Reverend Bishop England. The eloquent tones that have stirred our hearts as with the sound of a trumpet shall no more command and arrest our attention. The lips ever devoted to the advancement of virtue and religion are forever mute, frozen into silence by the icy hand of death. The earnest vindicator of the liberty of his native land, the devoted admirer and constant advocate of the institutions of this, his adopted country ; the man of unimpeached and unimpeachable character, of intel- lect and acquirements wide and far-reaching, of imagination fervid and poetic the priest of self-denying and self-sacrificing virtues, whom all men of every sect and faith delight to honor the careful and sleepless watcher over the flock committed to his care has finished his earthly course. The good soldier of the Cross, he was ever girt with his armor, and ready to defend from assault the truths he conscientiously believed, and how widely soever we may differ from his doctrine, we all admit that he fought the good fight, and performed the task that was set before him. "To us he was endeared by the relation he bore to us, by the recol- lections of the eloquent address which he delivered before this company,! and by the readiness which he evinced to render us any service that cir- cumstances might require. We presume not on this occa ion to analyze the character of this lamented prelate. No panegyric upon his virtues becomes this meeting. In life he courted not the applause of men, and his memory does not require their praise; for his eulogy is in the deep i "The Character of "Washington," vol i. xxn MEMORIALS. grief of his friends, in the passionate mourning of the thousand hearts to whom he was the star of hope, the light upon their thorny path of life. His epitaph is written on the enduring affection of the widow and the orphan, the homeless and forlorn, whom, in life, he cherished and sus- tained. Their prayers are the incense around his tomb, their tears the libation over his ashes. "Be it further Resolved, That in the death of our lamented and reverend chaplain this company has suffered a bereavement which deprives it of one of its brightest ornaments, and that as a mark of our sorrow for his death, and our respect for his virtues, the usual badge of mourning be worn for thirty days." On motion of J. Bryan, Jr., it was resolved that tne above resolutions be adopted. D. McQUEEN, Secretary. PHILADELPHIA REPEAL ASSOCIATION. At a meeting of the association held at their room, 278 Market street, on Monday evening, April 18, 1842, "Wm. A. Stokes, Esq., president, in the chair, Benjamin Pemberton Binns, Esq., offered the following resolu- tions which were unanimously adopted : "Resolved, That the Repeal Association of Philadelphia have heard, with feelings of deep and solemn -mourning and sorrow of the death of their venerable fellow member, the Right Reverend John England, Bishop of Charleston, in South Carolina. Attached to his person by his true nobility of nature, grateful for his generous devotion to the great cause of human liberty they will hold in enduring remembrance his virtues for imitation, his genius for admiration, and his piety for example. "Resolved, That in his death the country has lost one of her most valuable citizens, republican institutions have been deprived of one of their ablest champions, and the holy cause of Christianity has to lament a servant and advocate, whose entire zeal for the principles and interests of his own faith never caused him to violate the charity, which in a, land of freedom protects all, but injures none." The president, Mr. Stokes, having vacated the chair, which was takon by Mr. Benjamin P. Binns, proposed the following resolution : " Resolved, That as a mark of respect to the memory of the lamented Bishop England, the Association do now adjourn." Mr. Stokes in offering this resolution remarked that it was under feel- ings of no ordinary emotion, for none who knew Bishop England could MEMORIALS. xxiu fail to feel towards him an almost filial affection. He was one of those great men, the splendor of whose glories commanded the admiration of all ; "while the goodness of his heart and his amiability of manners made warm friends of all who were so fortunate as to enjoy his acquaintance. He was a remarkable example of one, who by the mere force of his native intellect, had caused his name to be known and revered throughout Europe and America ; known and revered not only as a Christian prelate, firm in the faith which he held but as an illustrious champion of human rights as a powerful advocate in Europe for that system of government in America, which recognized in him a citizen most useful and constant, and as a scholar of rare attainments a writer of singular purity an orator and reasoner who had triumphed whenever his powers had been called into action. His own deeds were his best eulogium; his memory would, he trusted, be the virtual prolongation of a life valuable for the pure example which he set to all an example which might live and which he hoped and believed would live in the breast of every repealer, exciting him to the practice of virtue, guarding him from the temptations of vice, and strengthening the resolution to persevere in that good work of repeal, the entire devotion to which was one of the brightest and best points of the character of Bishop England. Mr. Stokes spoke at length and with great effect of the character of Bishop England, and when he resumed his seat the association immediately adjourned, and in silence left their hall. VESTRY OF SAVANNAH, GA. At a meeting of the Vestry of the Catholic Church of St. John the Baptist, Savannah, held on the evening of Tuesday, May 3, 1842, Messrs. Dillon, Prendergast, and Condon were nominated a committee to draft a, preamble and resolutions, expressive of the grief and sorrow which over- whelmed the congregation, at the irreparable loss of its ever dear and beloved bishop. The following were offered, and approved of by the pastor : " How sad, how melancholy, and how difficult is the duty which we are called to perform, to give expression to our sorrow for the death of our beloved bishop, and to delineate his virtues, though it be but a mere attempt. Our grief is too deeply seated in our hearts ; it is un- alterable. His virtues are indescribable, who can delineate them ? Our sorrow is founded on general and special principles. Christianity has lost an indomitable champion ; Catholicity its most powerful advocate ; the xxiv MEMORIALS. Apostolic chain one of its brightest and purest links ; the Militant Church a noble, brave, and valiant soldier ; America, a defender of her rights, and the South a vindicator of her institutions. "Our father and friend has departed from us we are orphans; the fold is without a shepherd; the diocese without a bishop. The episcopal chair is vacant ; the sable emblems show where the venerated tenant lies ; the sanctuary is without its ornament ; the widow mourns the loss of her support ; the orphan weeps for him who gave him food. Oh ! Father of the faithful and Supreme Pastor of souls, listen to the sighs of the bewildered virgins ; behold the tears of the young men ; listen to the sobs of the aged, and have regard to the heart-stricken throes of all thy people. In the accommodating and deferential sense which usage sanctions, has there ever been a people who may apply to itself with greater pro- priety, the lamentable words of the Prophet, than the flock of the Diocese of Charleston, in its present, melancholy bereavement : Oh, all you that pass by the way, behold and see if there be any sorrow like to my sorrow, Blessed Redeemer of mankind ! for the iniquities of the people have you been stricken the sons of the fold have called for your death. Have our indifference, our neglect and apathy, in Thy service, provoked the blow just dealt to us? Have our sins incurred the heavy chastisement ? We fear for ourselves we tremble, and humbly bow down as culprits in Thy sight, and penitently sue for pardon. In sack- cloth and ashes shall we endeavor to atone, and our future conduct shall be the evidence of the sincerity of our expressions. Spare, Lord, spare Thy people, and give not Thy inheritance to reproach. If in anger Thou hast taken Thy servant from a sinful people, in clemency and com- passion leave not Thy fold without a shepherd ; send one according to Thy own heart, and worthy of him who was our first pastor. In testimony of our grief, and as an external manifestation of how sensibly wo feel our irreparable loss, be it "Resolved, That at the approaching Month's Mind, our church be suitably decorated, and as long afterward as our pastor shall deem necessary. "Resolved, That the vestry and members generally be requested to wear the same badge of mourning for thirty days. "J. F. O'NEILL, Pastor. "JOHN MURPHY, Secretary: 1 MEMORIALS. xxv YOUNa CATHOLICS' FRIEND SOCIETY OF BOSTON. At the regular monthly meeting of the Young Catholics' Friend Society, Sunday, May 8, 1842, the following resolutions on the demise of Bishop England were unanimously adopted : "To the name of Bishop England, haloed as it is with the glory of his sublime virtues and memorable deeds, we can offer no commmen- surate tribute ; but, being solicitous to attest our esteem for all that is pre-eminently beautiful, pure and grand in the human character, and our mingled veneration and regret for the splendid virtues and brilliant genius which have passed from amongst us to a more congenial sphere, it is therefore "Resolved, That in the decease of this good prelate our Church has been deprived of a glorious light the Catholic hierarchy of a divine, eloquent, pious and erudite ; and Christendom of a luminary whose rays were confined to no sect, but beamed upon all, dispelling bigotry, and giving a universality to Catholic faith which will be honorable to his name. "Resolved, That we proudly claim the illustrious dead as a native of that land which, though enslaved, is still glorious in her bondage ; and that in his death Ireland has been deprived of a pure and fervid patriot, whose voice was ever ready to assert her claims to independence, as well as to uphold the glory of her religion. "Resolved, That the testimony of Bishop England, when recently visiting this city, to the excellence and utility of this institution, is con- sidered by us as attaching the highest honor to the name of Young Catholics' Friend, and that it will ever be the proud boast of the society that Bishop England gave it his warmest approbation. "Resolved, That although he, esteemed and beloved by us, now slumbers in the cold and silent tomb, his genius, his virtues, and piety, shall live for ever in our affections, and be enshrined in our memories and hearts. "PETER E. BLAKE, President. "J. GERVASIO, Secretary." HIBERNIAN SOCIETY OF CHARLESTON, S. U. According to public notice the Hibernian Society of Charleston con- vened at their hall on Monday evening, April 18, 1843, to pay the proper tribute of respect to the memory of their distinguished brother member, the Right Rev. Bishop England. xxvi MEMORIALS. In the absence of Mr. Win. A. Caldwell, the president of the so- ciety, Mr. Thomas Stephens, the vice-president, called the meeting to order. In a feeling and touching manner he introduced to the society the painful occasion which had called them together. He bestowed a rightly merited compliment on the many virtues of the deceased, and revived the recollection of many occasions where the cause of humanity and the most striking social qualities were happily illustrated in him whose lss had occasioned such general grief. After Mr. Stephens had concluded, A. G. Magrath, Esq., said he had been requested to prepare some expressions of the feelings of the society on the deep loss sustained in the death of Bishop England. He had undertaken the duty, because to him it was a pleasing task to pay respect to the memory of a man so good and so great. He then read to the society the following tribute to the memory of Bishop England : "A mournful occasion has convened us! A chair is vacant in our hall 1 A voice that was loud in the admonitions of the Christian and the patriot has died away on the ear! A spirit that seemed the em- bodiment of kindness and charity that hung around this hall with a zeal that enchanted while it instructed, has departed forever ! The min- ister, whose religious devotion lent sanctity to his character, and in- fluence to his councils ; the member whose heart responded to the call for relief; and gave to wretchedness that sympathy more consoling than wealth ; the patriot whose eloquence in the cause of a suffering country hailed the event of laying the corner-stone of our hall and baptized its completion in the same rich and feeling strain; 1 has been taken away from us forever and reposes in the calmness of death, in the sanctuary he so long dignified and supported. In our wide community, where all sects are zealous in the support of their peculiar tenets, there is now no feeling save that of deep sorrow. Controversies and disputes have been hushed into silence before this manifestation of divine omnipotence and the Hebrew, whose heart was opened by a generous liberality and the Protest- ants, who combated with him the doctrine of the Church and the Catholic, who listened to him as the oracle of the living God, have alike crowded around the coffin which encloses his mortal remains, and offered the deep and touching tribute of tearful sorrow to his many virtues. "While all, however, mingle their tribute of sympathy in the loss of that distinguished prelate, the lit. Rev. Bishop England to us, his death is a matter of ]>cculiar bereavement. ' Bishop England was unanimously selected by tho Hibernian Society 1o de- liver tho address at tho laying of tho corner-stone of tho Hibernian Hall, and again at the first public opening after Its completion. MEMORIALS. xxvii " The descendant of those, who are able to number many of their name among the distinguished sons of tho land of their birth, John England, at an early age, gave evidence of that power of mind and devotedness of pur- pose, which eventually developed themselves so eminently and successfully in the administration of the affairs of this diocese. At an early age, he be- came possessed of the influence of religion, and unheeding the enticements, which to one so gifted, might easily have been supposed potential in direct- ing his attention to pursuits, where success in the eye of the world seems more gratifying than the quiet duties of the ministry, he yet gave to the Church the full energies of a young and daring spirit, a heart filled with the gentlest charities of life, and an intellect even then commanding the respect of those distinguished by age and station. At an early age he com- menced the duties of his holy ministry, and his efforts were gifted with the most gratifying success. The attention of the Catholic Church being turned towards the Southern portion of the United States, the position and promises of usefulness already displayed by this distinguished man, recommended him to the appointing power. And, although he had not attained the age which the Church prescribes for the possession of the office for which his services were required, a dispensation was obtained ; l and he was invested with the high and responsible position of bishop of a diocese composed of our own and two of our sister States. He came among us with many prejudices to surmount ; many difficulties to overcome ; much dissatisfaction to assuage. But the edge of prejudice was soon exchanged for confidence ; the difficul- ties of his position yielded to his labor of love ; and the discontent of all was exchanged for the harmony and fellowship which has bound the mem- bers of his Church in the strong bonds of confidence and affection. "As the patriot the lover of the land of his birth, no superior could be found to him whose loss we deplore. He was born where the iron hand of despotism ground to tho dust the noblest of his race. He lived where he could see the scaffold reeking with the blood of those who prized the honor of their country more than they feared death. He suffered with those who, conscious of the then fruitless effort they were making, felt that religion of the patriot which makes him hug the chain in triumph he cannot break in the hall of the oppressor. In all his efforts connected with the cause of suffering Ireland, he gave full evidence of that high and dignified zeal that fervid, because sincere eloquence, which recalled the scattering senses of the i The writer has fallen into a slight mistake in this sentence. Bishop England was ordained priest at the age of 22, a dispensation of two years having been granted in consideration of his piety and learning. The canons of the Church re- quire that no one be consecrated bishop, until he has completed his thirti th year. 1 ishop England received episcopal consecration on the 21st of September, 1820, the thirty-fourth anniversary of his birthoay. xxvm MEMORIALS. weak, chastened the daring, and excited the timid. Careless of the con- sequences so far as he was concerned, his voice echoed from the gatherings in his own land, and told the oppressor in a tone that could not be unheeded, the tale of tyranny and suffering that millions of his country- men were compelled to undergo. "A a citizen of the United States the adopted son of our Republic there never breathed one more fervent in his admiration of the institutions he had sworn to protect, more religious in his observance of the duties which devolved upon him as a citizen of a country whose laws knew no distinction of classes, whose soil cherished and supported alike all sects in religion. His intimate acquaintance with the excellencies which shine out in bold relief, amid the vices of the many models of republican gov- ernment, made him at once the zealous advocate of a well regulated liberty the antagonist of all lawless and revolutionary feeling. His long expe- rience in all the intricacies of the human heart, taught him at once the possibility of man's government of himself, and the evil inseparable from boundless dominion, when power is concentrated in the hands of one ; be it, therefore, ''Resolved, That the Hibernian Society of Charleston have, in the death of the Hight Rev. Bishop England, sustained the loss of a member and companion, whose eminent learning adorned the virtues of charity and benevolence ; whose character gave dignity to his society, his country and his Church ; whose name will be ever dear in the memory of those who love and admire the excellencies of our nature. "Resolved, That in testimony of our profound respect, the members of the Hibernian Society will wear crape on the left arm for the space of thirty days." After Mr. Magrath had concluded the reading of his tribute, on motion of the Hon. James S. Rhett, it was unanimously resolved that the same be adopted by this society. On motion of Mr. Moreland, Resolved, That the Society do now ad- journ in silence, and without comment. The society then adjourned. THOMAS STEPHENS, Vice-President, Acting President. __ W. N. HAMILTON,. Secretary. THE WORKS OF BISHOP ENGLAND. EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 1 I DOUBTED whether, on this occasion, it would be better to confine myself to the topics naturally suggested by the recurrence of the day we celebrate, and discharge the duty which you have imposed upon me by reciting the usual detail of the life of the apostle of our nation, or to take a more enlarged view of what generally interests us, and hastily sketch, for beneficial purposes, an imperfect outline of our history. Upon a little reflection, I have determined to attempt both, giving preference, in order of time, to those facts which first existed, and introducing, at the proper epochs, to the notice which they must necessarily command, the labors of St. Patrick, and from the entire, drawing a strong moral lesson, which they forcibly inculcate. The island from which we are sprung is but small upon the surface of our globe, yet its history is that of many centuries, and one which is more or less an object of interest beyond that of curious research to most other nations of the world. This day you may find her children congregated ia their societies, upon the banks of the Savannah and of the Granges. This day they search for the Shamrock under polar snows, and amidst the -sands of the equator. This 1 Substance of an Address delivered before the Hibernian Society of the City of Savannah, Georgia, March 17th, 1824. V EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. day millions of voices are raised round the extended circum- ference, their shout and their song vibrate on the rays, to meet in their own verdant, glittering centre. They exhibit themselves decorated in the courts of the old world, deliber- ating in the assemblies of the new ; they lift the standard of Bolivar, they pour out their ejaculation at the tomb of Washington. Qnse regio in terris, nostri non plena laboris? The civilization of our island is not that of yesterday. It is not by oppression that man becomes social, it is not by restraint and compulsion man becomes civilized. If our ancestors were polished, we can show the causes of the semi-barbarism of some of their descendants. The cause which we assign is amply sufficient for the effect which is found. But if our ancestors were more rude than their proscribed children, we cannot explain facts of which we have glaring evidence. Why, then, should we become fashionably inconsistent? Why should we be contradictorily polite? Consistency ought to be fashion ; truth ought to be polite- ness. God forbid it should be otherwise in America ! Allow the truth of our assertions, our whole history is consistent ; that of which we have perfect evidence, supports that of which the evidence has been lost or mutilated. Deny the truth of that part which is thus supported, and that of which you have the most perfect certainty becomes inexplicable. When we call upon you, then, to believe these assertions, we do not substitute a theory for a history; but we present you with a series of facts differently testified, some having the evidence of history, the others possessing that strong moral evidence to which any reasonable being must give a willing and a ready assent. We are asked for our documents. They whose interest lay in their destruction were stronger than we were ; they became possessed of one portion by force ; they were more subtle than an open-hearted people, too confiding, too unsus- picious ; another portion was obtained ; until the records of EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 3 our glory had nearly all insensibly disappeared ; and when \ve spoke of the acts of our progenitors, we were sneered at as impostors by those who calculated upon their safety in the consciousness of their baseness. But though the parchment should be shrivelled to ashes in the flames ; though the sceptre may be stricken from the monarch's hand; and the pointed crown bo torn from his dishevelled head ; though the assembly may be driven from the hall of deliberation, and the blazonings of heraldic precedence be mingled in con- fusion and trampled in the dust ; though it may be criminal to preserve the name of your progenitors, and the great portion of the people should be compelled to take up sur- names from trades and occupations, and in a language which was yet scarcely blending into form, and next to unintelligible ; still, the memory of facts will outlive the destruction of their testimony, and the reasonable traditions of a nation will supply the place of writings. If the settlers of our island did not arrive- from Spain, whence did they come ? Their traditions inform us of the fact. Upon what shall we found the contradiction ? The individual who addresses you has examined, upon the spot, the traditions and the places, so far as any traces remain ; and notwithstanding the ravages of time and the ravages of enemies, many do yet remain ; those remnants of what were described as but remnants long since, admirably coincide with what might be naturally expected after the lapse of ages. The Irish peasant loves to remain near the spot which con- tains the ashes of his parents, and successive generations will be found renewing, where the laws did not operate to preven- tion, the names of their grandsires in the persons of their children ; the traditionary songs, which have floated down the stream of time, give the exploits of the hero, and are found to proceed parallel to the stream of his blood. And on. a coast of cliffs, and in a land of hills and valleys, topography is not so easily changed as on a coast of sand, and in plains liable to inundation. The wreck of the history which has been preserved coin- 4 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. cides with the tradition, and the song, and the appearance. Shall we be cheated of the poor gratification of the history of our ancestors, because an active system has been persevered in, during successive administrations, to destroy our records ? I again ask, what is to be set up in opposition to the little we adduce? If this was not their origin, whence did they come ? The remnants of our histories inform us, that our Gallician ancestors were a settlement made by an African colony, who had previously migrated from Tyre in Phoenicia, and who had, during a very long period, kept up an interchange of commerce. The histories of other nations which have been more fortunate in the preservation of their archives, leave no doubts as to the origin of Carthage ; yet were but a very few records destroyed, before the art of printing) upon what grounds would the historian rest for his proof, save the song of the Roman poet? The migration from Car- thage to Spain \vas easier than from Tyre to Carthage ; perhaps the fact is also better sustained by proof. From the harbors in the northwest of Spain, even in those early days of naval science, the voyage to Ireland was not diffi- cult, especially to the exploring descendants of the greatest commercial people then in the world. The facts are related by our historians, preserved in the traditions of our people ; consistent with the documents of every age of our country, possible in their nature, by no means unlikely to have taken place ; no other facts are offered as substitutes ; some such facts are necessary ; those have always been ad- duced. AVe are referred to the relics of our literature, to the documents which would substantiate them ; we point out the fate of those documents which are known to have existed. I know not upon what ground our claim is to be rejected. We have next the testimony as to a commerce of some continuance between those descendants of Milcsius, the founder of the Irish settlement, and the Africans from Avhom they were sprung. AVe find, at different periods of time, several swords and other warlike weapons dug up in the EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 5 bogs of Ireland, unlike the arms of Northern Europe, unlike the Roman weapons, but of the same figure and the same metal and alloy, brazen, as those which fell from the dying warriors of Carthage at Cannse. Golden crowns and collars were found in like manner, of similar manufacture, and of the same alloy with those of Africa and the East, and by no means corresponding with those of any neighboring people. The written records of a people may be given in tatters to the raging winds of every point of the compass, but monu- ments will still remain. Rome never gave her deities to Ireland; but whilst that proud people dictated to a subject w r orld, Ireland preserved even her idolatry unchanged. Her deities were of eastern origin, and her rites of worship were of Asiatic institution ; not those of the Bramin, but those of the Phoenician. Baal was her chief deity, and he was worshipped with fire. We need not the sacred volume for the Asiatic facts and cus- toms, they are too plain to be questioned. And which of us could not testify to the fires of May-eve in the island of our nativity? The custom still continues, though Chris- tianity has purified the observance by stripping it of the criminality of the object. So interwoven with the fibres of his heart are the usages of his fathers to a child of Erin, that they are to be eradicated only with a dreadful pang, after it has been found absolutely necessary. Our earliest writers inform us that the fires of Baal, whose worship was always known amongst the Milesian settlers, were lighted with great solemnity on that day which now corresponds to May-eve. We have ourselves seen the fires, and passed through them with the sportive thoughtfulness of youth, to avoid some undefinable evil which we dreaded from spirits. We know that the month of May is still called, in the language which some of us have lisped in our childhood, Beal thinne, or the fire of Baal. How many other facts which our historians testify, which our eyes and our ears have known, are totally inexplicable without the mythology of Phoenicia ? They crowd upon my mind ; but I must not . detain vou. C EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. Amongst the scraps of our history which remain, is the list of the monarchs ; the mode of his death, the name of his successor, the length of his reign, are generally appended to each; and the period of time which this would occupy fills up about that space which brings us, counting back from the era of St. Patrick, to those times which witnessed the early dawn of civilization in Greece. Egypt is older than we are ; yet, though we acknowledge her civilization, the progress of her arts, the extension of her commerce, we have little of the history of her monarchs, save the repetition of the name of Pharaoh. From Phoenicia Egypt received her literature ; from Phoe- nicia and from Egypt Greece drew hers. Our forefathers date the epoch of their migration from the East about the time when Cadmus brought letters into Crete. Egypt had her hieroglyphics, but they were not exported. The Grecian character is principally Phoenician. "When were those records of Irish monarchs produced ? The first Christian missionaries found them in the country, and the voice of the country attested their having been always known as authentic public documents ; and the princes or chiefs then in existence traced their pedigree back upon the list, and the title, by which they held their place and their possessions, was the accuracy of the register, which was kept under the eye of the nation. The wandering tribe, or the lawless horde, may for the moment be placed under the guidance or the domination of some chief, whose prowess or barbarity might have led to his election or to his usurpation ; but his authority expires at the utmost with himself, and his successor, if a successor he have, cares little to preserve the record of the man who swayed before him. But where civilization has introduced law, where society is regulated upon principles, and the governor is not to be elevated or depressed as caprice may < lid ate, the record will be kept, and the principle will be maintained, with at least some semblance of regularity; and its existence will be at once the evidence of time and the evidence of civilization. EPOCHS OF IRISII HISTORY. 7 The Irish had a written language, in which those records were kept; that language, however imperfectly preserved, exists still, and those characters are used to-day. We have been told, they are of Celtic origin ; that they are the char- acters of the North of Europe ; that they are Eunic ; that they were common to the Irish bard and to the Norwegian scald; that they are the same which England knew as her Saxon letter. The fact is not so. Make the comparison, and you will perceive a much stronger affinity between the Irish character and that of the early Greek. Without entering into the critical disquisition as to the gradual varia- tions in Greece, before her letter and her language assumed their stable forms, I do not hesitate to assert, that, with the exception of the letter corresponding to g, the similitude of our letter and the early single letters of the Cretans is most striking. Yet I do not deny a strong resemblance between even the Saxon and the Irish ; but it is easily explained by facts which are obvious. Phoenicia was the mother of letters ; thence the Greek principally derived his ; thence, at the same period, our pro- genitors brought theirs ; thence, too, northward, towards the Tanais, and the Scythian hills and plains, men took their characters. Centuries elapsed, ere the hardy hunter of north- ern Asia directed his course to the west. Siberia, still shrouded in her untrodden snow, accumulated the frosts of ages. Nor Russ, nor Muscovite, as yet was known. Along the Don, the Volga, and the Ister, guided also by the setting sun, after other centuries had rolled away, the Asiatic swarms traversed a pathless forest and a mighty waste, and found themselves, some in Scandinavia, and some still farther south, where their descendants, under the name of Saxons, proudly held their sway. Their gods were not the gods of Erin; of Baal and his associates they had no knowledge; their fathers had substituted others in their stead. Ireland knew nothing of their Woden, of their Thor, nor of their Freya. Nor was their language the same ; though the names had been changed, the letters, in which those names were written, 8 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. preserved a great affinity, for they were brought from the same school. The similitude of the Irish to the early Grecian letter, together with the space of time occupied by the reigns of their monarchs, and the allowance for that time which was spent in the intermediate colonies, will coincide admirably with the account of our historians, that their progenitors were companions of the early Greeks, and that our country was settled by them about the era of the dawn of science upon Greece ; and that our progenitors, having been descended from a people then highly civilized, and having brought with them letters, formed a regulated and civilized establishment immediately. Ireland could not have procured the Saxon nor the Celtic nor the Runic characters before those characters were known. They were not known in Europe until after the period of Christianity. Ireland, upon her receiving this religion, had books written in her own character during ages, which books the first missionaries saw, and many of which regarding her mythology they destroyed; and when she received Roman literature, a curious circumstance, singular, too, I believe, presents itself to our view ; her predilection for her own let- ters was such, that she wrote the Latin language in the Irish character. The individual, who has the honor of addressing you, speaks from what he has seen and known. Our country had her law, the Brehon code and the customs of Tanistre. It has been said, that they who lived under those laws must have been barbarians, because the punish- ment of death was not enacted against the offender; his fine was in proportion to his offence ; perhaps the laws of Draco, or of Great Britain, would have better suited the disposition of the objector ; but it is a novelty at least worthy of notice, to find that a tenderness for human life is now the character- istic of a barbarous people. Greece had her Solon and her Lycurgus, Rome had her Numa, long before the epoch of Christianity ; why shall Ireland be robbed of the legal beauty with which she was decorated by her Loghaire, by her EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 9 Ollamh Fodhla, and so many others, at as early a period as that of either the Greek or the Roman? Are we also to be sneered at, because upon glaring evidence we believe that, besides the regular meetings of the provinces, under the several princes, for the regulation of their local concerns, the triennial Parliament or Congress of the whole at Tara, held under the monarch of the island, was the great legislature of the nation ? Are then the records all fictions ? Are their statements facts ? If they be facts, are they not evi- dence of civilization? Do you find even a claim to similar documents, a notion of similar institutions, amongst the uncivi- lized children of nature? Do you find learning held in estimation? Do you find laws recorded? Do you find a regu- larly constructed and a written language amongst barbarians ? I am no advocate for chivalry; but the existence of an order of knighthood is at least a proof of some progress in civilization. To omit many others which are equally well known, the existence from a very early period of the knights of the Red Branch in Ulster, cannot be called into question. The annals of their order, the history of their exploits, the names of their heroes, the time, the place, the other circum- stances, cannot all be baseless fabrics of the fancy, especially when we find history furnishing the facts with which those details are connected. The fable of Greece is the decoration of a fact. The magical metamorphosis of the Roman poet is but the sport of a fine fancy with a true substance. But in the accounts to which I allude facts are stated without decorations ; persons are introduced who are known to have existed ; and all the occurrences are such as require neither the power of the magician nor the performance of a miracle. Xor shall I here enter upon a disquisition to ascertain, whether at the decline of the order of the Ruddairc no, craobh ruadh, the members of that body established the Saxon association, which was the nucleus of the German Ritters, and one of the earliest exhibitions of chivalry upon the con- tinent of Europe. But there is one species of testimony peculiar to our 10 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. nation. Greece raised tumults upon the first preaching of the Christian doctrine ; Rome persecuted the Apostles ; Judea was necessarily inimical to the annihilation of her own power, and resented the imputation of having slain the Son of God : these nations were civilized. Rome and Judea persecuted; Greece was little more than tumultuous. The pride and corruption of Rome led to her criminality; the obstinacy, with which Judea continued under her mistake, caused her persecution. But amongst the barbarous nations to whom the founders of our religion preached the faith, they had generally to pay their lives as the forfeit of their zeal. In their stub- born soil the seed of the word was to be watered by the tears of the sower, and the germ was to be nurtured with his blood, ere the plant could flourish. All the histories of nations that have embraced our doctrines, testify to the fact upon which I found my assertion. Ireland, however, fur- nishes a solitary and splendid exception. The Roman pro- consuls and praetors executed the orders of a Nero and of a Domitian, in Greece as well as in other parts of the world. India and Ethiopia, Bactria and Persia, were not behind the officers of the mighty fourth monarchy in their hatred to the name of Jesus and to the emblem of His cross. But in Ireland the soil was already prepared ; the island of sham- rocks bloomed in the verdure of cultivation ; the venom of irreligious persecution was not found in her fields. Neither the pride of the cruel despot, nor the frenzy of the barbarian, was the characteristic of her king or of her people. And though our country had the twinkling of science to adorn her firmament, yet, like the other nations, she sat in darkness and in the shadow of death; but her mild mythology, as far as we can discover, caught some rays from the sun of justice, which it imperfectly and weakly reflected upon her children. The day-star beamed upon them, and with expectation their eyes were turned to the reddening east ; perhaps the mists of their ocean served to reflect and to mellow the glories of the rising sun, and having been long accustomed to a little light, they were better prepared to endure and to examine EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 11 that brilliant orb which now mounted above their horizon in the effulgent majesty of truth. "Whatever might have been the cause, the fact is indis- putable Ireland did not slay her apostles ; and when she was placed under the dominion of the Briton, her children Avere reproached with the imperfection of their calendar ; they were accused of being an irreligious people, because no national martyrs were found amongst their saints. Oh, how prophetic was the answer ! " That deficiency will soon be supplied, as the Pope has favored us with such excellent teachers." New scenes now begin to present themselves. \Ye come to the era of St. Patrick. I cannot say with precision what Avas the place of his birth. He is claimed as a child of Scotland; he is also claimed by Gaul. AVe cannot decide where we do not find sufficient evidence. His father's name was Calphurnius : from this it is probable he was of noble Roman extraction, for the wife of Julius Caesar was of this family. His mother's name was Conchessa; she was niece to the celebrated St. Martin, the Bishop of Tours. This would render it likely that the claim of France is not unfounded ; but the parents might have settled in North Britain. Their son Maun was born towards the close of the fourth century. At an early period of youth he was taken into Ireland as a captive, and was employed upon the moun- tains in charge of cattle. After a few years of heavy servi tude, he regained his liberty; but was, soon afterwards, reduced to his former situation. In his wretched durance, he learned much patience, and found the mode of subjugating his passions. He was again released, and travelled into Gaul. Here he was for a considerable time a disciple of his relative, the Bishop of Tours ; and he also imbibed much knowledge and piety at Auxerre, from the good and distin- guished prelate of that see. After having embraced the ecclesiastical state, he travelled into Italy, and at length, in the year 432, he received episcopal consecration ; wa* admitted into the patrician order, and appointed by Pope 12 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. Celestine, who then filled the apostolic chair, to the charge of that island in which he had been formerly a captive, and for whose spiritual welfare he felt an ardent zeal, and was anxious to devote himself to a life of toil and sufferings. Henceforth, he is known onjy by the name of Patrick. Previous to his arrival, Christianity had made some little progress in the island. We have the accounts of St. Ailbe, founder of the see of Emly, which is now united to the archiepiscopal see of Cashel ; of St. Ivar in the west, some- where in the province of Connaught ; of St. Declan, in the country of the Decies, in the vicinity of Waterford ; and of St. Kieran, who founded the see of Ossory, in that place which was afterwards called and is still known as Kilkenny. But upon the arrival of Patrick, a new impulse was given to the missionary force, and the true religion began widely to diffuse itself. Much opposition, of course, was made by many to the labors of the apostle ; but he, well knowing that his doctrines were such as could bear to have their founda- tions closely examined, desired at once to lay them before the assembled wisdom, and judgment, and learning of the nation. He went to the Congress at Tara, and there openly preached a crucified God. The Druids and principal abettors of the Irish mythology disputed with him ; but he was chiefly thwarted by the machinations, and intrigues, and open resistance of Niall, the son of the monarch, whose influence was very extensive. So that the apostle did not, at this time, reap all the fruit upon which he had calculated. Yet were many persons brought to a deep sense of the folly of idolatry, and the necessity of serving God, who is a Spirit, in spirit and in truth. The only positive infliction, of which we have an account, is of one subsequent to this an imprisonment of the saint and his companions in irons, during about fourteen days. Being released from durance, he went southwards, and con- verted the King of Munster and his family; then going up towards the northwest, he brought over the King of Con- naught and his sons to the profession of the faith, and EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 13 carried on the mission in Ulster with extraordinary success. In a short time churches rose upon the ruins of idols. Monasteries of men and women were everywhere founded, and the religion of Christ in a few years predominated throughout the island. "\Ve have no record of so sudden, so perfect, so general a conversion of any other nation. The apostle of Ireland sees his flock now too large for his super- intendence, and new bishoprics are created. His name is now held in esteem, and in that same assembly at Tara, where on a former occasion he was disappointed, he is covered with honors ; he is admitted to his seat, he is ranked amongst their most learned men, and made one of the judges to preserve the purity of their historical records. The place formerly held by the teachers of idolatry is given to the apostle of the Lamb. Ireland adds the gem of Roman literature to the treasures which she had long possessed, and her clergy and her laity are emulous of each other in making progress in the new field of learning to which they have been introduced. Her ancient music resounds in the temple of the living God, and her virgins lift the melody of their voices to celebrate, in grateful notes, the triumph of redemp- tion. O, land of my fathers ! how beauteous were your hills, how lovely were your valleys, how pure were your streams, in that day before the eye of heaven ! The hand of the spoiler did not desolate your fields ; the foot of the stranger was not upon the necks of your children ; the sword of the persecutor did not stain your temples with blood ; the torch of the incendiary did not consume the retreats of devotion ; the ruthless bigot had not as yet armed your sons for their mutual destruction ; but the conviction of the under- standing formed the basis of piety, and perfect charity exhib- ited the form of undefiled religion. The children of Ireland \vere in that day known to be disciples of our Lord Jesus, because they loved one another. The days of Patrick were prolonged, until, from his metropolitan eminence of Armagh, he beheld the land flourish in beauty, lovely in peace and decorated with virtue. About the year 496, he closed his 14 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. eyes upon this mortal scene, in which he had been so eminently useful, and was buried at Down. " O, let my soul die the death of the just, and let my last end be like unto theirs." Ireland was destined ere long to be useful to the rest of Europe. Sarmatia soon began to pour her thousands upon the South. Eoman degeneracy had permitted Roman freedom to be lost. But the polish of the Augustan age was still upon society. Barbarism, it is true, had in some instances defaced it. It was still fashionable to be learned; and though the play of the punster had been substituted for the graces of the scholar ; and the tinsel of alliteration glared where wit had flashed and fancy sparkled; still, it was an age of knowledge, and the edge of the horizon glowed and the rich, full, mellow clouds retained much lustre, and exhibited brilliant tints as they caught and refracted the rays of departing luminaries. The fifth century of the Christian era was, in learning, like a fine evening within the tropics ; the short interval which is given to enjoy a glorious view between a bright day of burning calm and a night of thunder. Vandalic rage and Pannonian fury ravaged and desolated the West and the centre. Very quickly the Saracen swept the East, and Moslem infatuation tore from Africa what the Goth had spared. Shrouded in her thick mantle, murky Ignorance seemed to brood in stupid satisfaction over the widespread waste ; and, save where the sacred monastery had collected within its massy walls the wrecks of ancient genius, her empire was generally established. Ireland had been spared from this general deluge, and there, as in another ark, were preserved the means of re-establishing the civilized race of man. Our country had then acquired the title of Insula Sanctorum, from the piety of its people, and Imula Doctorum, from the learning of its sons. In the next age, then, we find her missionaries go forth to occupy prominent places in those regions which had been even before her in the faith. Italy places them in her sees, Switzerland acknowledges them as her apostles, Gaul EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 15 testifies their labors, the Low Countries are the great scenes of their successful exertions, many German churches acknowl- edge Irishmen to be their founders, and, in conjunction with Britain, Ireland labors to enlighten Denmark, Sweden, and Norway; and Britain herself owes to Ireland much of her erudition, much of her sanctity. The venerable Bede testifies what we find recorded in our own histories ; but as it is fashionable to disbelieve all that has been written of Ireland, except by a calumniator of the people, I quote nothing upon the authority of any but strangers or enemies. Amongst them the testimony is uniform and uncontradicted, that in Ireland during those ages the schools were in the perfection of vigor and the highest credit ; that strangers from all parts of Europe flocked to them for information. So usual was this occur- rence, that when a man of literary note was discovered to have been absent, it was immediately concluded, as a matter of course, that he was gone to Ireland. Nor was this strange; for we are told that, not only were the lectures given gratuitously by the professors, but books were fur- nished, and sometimes even food and raiment provided, for the foreign youth who crowded to the asylum which our fathers opened for the genius of Europe. Amongst others, the British youth were by no means backward in availing themselves of the advantages thus placed within their reach. This is testified by their own historians. Armagh was one of the chief of those schools, and we can well credit the statement, that it contained at one time seven thousand students. AVlien the Britons had been subdued by the Saxons, and the Saxons assailed by the Danes, and the Danes again expelled by the Saxons, the state of learning and civiliza- tion in England was low indeed. During a long period of this time the island of our progenitors was still undisturbed, and the continent of Europe was laboring in the revival of letters. Our countrymen had founded the University of Paris, and were teaching in many of the principal schools of the continent. 16 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. Amongst others of the principal English who were educated in Ireland was Alfred, the father of English liberty. In our schools he was trained to letters; in Eome and in Ireland he imbibed his principles in legislation, and we may therefore fairly claim our share in the spirit of the British Constitu- tion, which, though much injured, still is a fine remnant of what once was good ; a system, the general principles of which are excellent, but the administration of which is corrupt ; and from which was taken that theory upon which the American mind has so successfully employed itself, as to have developed its benefits, lopped off its excrescences, and exhibited, in a degree of comparative perfection, a system whose origin we are proud to trace to spots with which our apostle was so intimately connected. Ireland, during those ages, not only preserved the religion and learning of her own children, but also from her stock communicated much to what then became the civilized world. Our country was not, however, destined to continue in that eminent station which she had so long held. Her shores had never been subject to the Eoman. But another nation, apparently more despicable, but really more formidable, began to issue from the Baltic. Normans occupied the coast of France. Danes drove the Saxons from their settlements in England. Their objects at first were only plunder and devas- tation ; they next took up positions on the coast, and then aimed at possessing the dominion of the country. The head of the venomous destroyer was frequently lopped off; but the fens of Lerna never nurtured a more multiplying antag- onist than the defeated and yet conquering barbarian of the North. He sat down in France, he occupied England, he assailed Ireland. Often repulsed, he yet returned, and at length had considerable possessions and extensive sway in our country. Our national monarchs, however, continued to rule. It is not my province to dwell upon their deeds of arms, nor is it in my power, without unreasonably encroaching upon your time, to allude even to those facts which shine so brightly emblazoned upon our scroll of history. I shall touch EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 17 for a moment, however, upon two, which are the first that catch my eye. Successful in more than fifty pitched battles against the destroyers of. his country, the enemies of his religion, the giants of rapine, of lust, and of cruelty, see the aged king of Ireland heading his troops on the memorable plains of Clontarf. With their collected forces, urged to obstinacy by despair, and wrathful in the fury of their pride and the dis- appointment of their ambition, the Scandinavian chiefs prepare their lines for the encounter. Sitric closes his ranks, inspires hope, points out rewards, promises possessions, exhorts to revenge, shows the plume of the victor's glory within the grasp of his troops, lifts his banner, sounds his trumpet, and shouts defiance. The Momonian kerns steadily advance the Connaught galloglasses briskly charge the invaders ; it is indeed a day of blood and of carnage ; but the pride of the Dane has been smitten ; and though patriotism and virtue must rejoice nt the issue, still they will permit humanity to weep over the bloody field. It was on Good Friday the anniversary of the Christian atonement. The venerable Brian Borhoime thus addressed the heir of his crown : " My son, I leave victory in your hands. Secure the independence of your country, and pre- serve its honor. But, whilst flushed with success, do not permit unnecessary destruction ; save the vanquished, and restrain the spirit of revenge. A God of mercy has been our protector. He who bled on Calvary has shed the lustre of glory on our harp. Frequently have His mercies been extended to us since the blessed Patrick first published His name in Tara ; but never, my son, has He been more boun- tiful than on this occasion, on the anniversary of that day when, by His own blood, He took away sin from His people, He has enabled us to wash away pollution from our shores with the blood of the oppressors of our country. I go, my son, in the name of my people, to return thanks for His benefits. I go alone and unarmed, to the foot of that 18 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. cross which I have erected in my tent, there to pour out my soul in gratitude, and to discharge those great duties of religion which the solemnity of the day requires, and which the calculating but mistaken enemy of our religion compelled us to defer. To you, my son, I leave my army, my blessing, and my instruction to remember mercy in the day of tri- umph ; remember the glories of our forefathers, remember the injunctions of our God." Whilst we venerate the union of martial prowess and Christian devotion in the monarch of Munster, shall we be accused of introducing fiction instead of history, when we weep over the immolation of the grayheaded warrior, at the foot of that same cross, by three fugitive assassins of the vanquished host? And though they fell under the swords of his family, who arrived in sufficient time for their punish- ment, though not for his safety, shall we be sneered at, if, after the lapse of eight centuries, our tear of sorrow testifies our lasting affection, and our prayer for his rest be sent up to our great Redeemer, as a supplement to the chanting of the Requiem upon the plains of Kilmainham and in the Abbey of Swords? Whilst the self-devotion of a Curtius occupies the thoughts and claims the admiration of the reader of Roman history, shall the heroes of Ireland be forgotten? Much indeed which sober reflection would censure, and the dispassionate judge must condemn, will be permitted to him who warmly feels, and is forced by circumstances to decide and to act under the influence of enthusiasm. Yet how irrational and unmean- ing is the act of Curtius, when compared with the conduct of Failve Loingscach, the commander of the Irish fleet, who opposed the Danish navy? Long, and bloody, and obstinate was the fight, and doubtful was the issue, when the tug of war appeared ready to snap the strength of either force. Failve saw, and remarked to those who surrounded him, that almost the entire valor, and energy, and perseverance of his opponents was owing to the judicious bravery of their com- mander, and that, if he were removed, the Irish navy would EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. have an easy triumph. In an instant the leading vessels are side by side ; grasping his opponent in his arms, the Irish chieftain leaps into the ocean, and like the encounter of the finny monarchs of the deep was the combat of the champions, till, clasped in the embraces of 'each other and of death, they sunk for ever ; and the strings of the harp gave the note of lamentation upon the breeze which flouted the green flag in the imperfect triumph of its joyless victory. But why should I dwell upon these themes ? It is true that "The sun has grown old, since Clontarf's bloody wave, Saw them sleep the sweet sleep of the patriot brave.'' It is true, that nations, which were not then even in embryo, now rise and rule the destinies of the world. But we do not like to be cheated out of our recollections. It is true, that tongues, which then were the rough and discordant combination of dissonant jargons, have since been made smooth by use ; but still we love the sound of our fathers' voices, even though that sound should be, as it is, but the imperfect, imitative echo which can be gathered from the ruins of the tomb, and which issues from mouths that have been filled with the dust of ages. These, it is true, are but delusive comforts; but how many of our comforts are delusions ! And if the delusion be innocent, why shall we have our eyes opened to a painful, to a remediless reality? Yes, the days of Ireland's glory have passed away, the epoch of her misery commences. The barbarians, who had been thus expelled, had plucked away the foundations of national prosperity; they had been driven from the land, but not before they had crushed religior, destroyed morality, and torn asunder the bonds of union which held the monarchs together. After fever had raged and the crisis had taken place, life still continued, health was established, but the constitution was dreadfully reduced. The restoration of Church government was commenced and considerable progress was making under St. Laurence O'Toole in Dublin and St. Malachy in Armagh; but the profligacy against the Prince 20 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. of Breffiny led to disunion, and a handful of English adventurers aiding the disaffected and recreant convict, in the jealousy of the people, and the quarrels of the princes, that edifice of national prosperity which the Danes had undermined, fell amidst the struggles of its inmates and the trifling assault of a few strangers. Oh, let it be to you a lesson of caution. May the sad fate of my country create in you vigilance to detect, and firmness to restrain, those ambitious and immoral individuals who would divide a people, that they may build up their own fortunes with the fragments of national union. I do not wish, my friends, to excite in you, nor to revive in myself, those feelings of pain and indignation which the subsequent history of Ireland is but too w r cll calculated to create. The Danes commenced the destruction of its records and the system of its disorganization. Other more successful and more persevering enemies were now their successors. It was asked by a poet subsequently to this epoch, Cur lyra percussa, funestas edidit sonores? And it was well answered, that the sound of the national music should be that of mournful melody, because, in the day of her disaster, her liberties were cloven down, her children were devoted to slavery, she was seated in the dust, her glory was tarnished, her face bedewed with tears, the testimonies of her greatness were torn away and destroyed, she was sprinkled with obloquy, even sucklings were brought to laugh at her wo and to mock at her affliction. A proud neighbor, who had plundered her of her jewels, flung the garb of folly on her shoulders and pointed her out to the derision of the world. How could her harp be tuned to mirth and revelry? Well might her children answer as did God's chosen people of old : " Upon the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and we wept, when we remembered Sion. Upon the willows in the midst thereof we hung up our harps ; because there they who led us captive asked us for the words of our songs, and they who led us away said, Sing to us a hymn of the canticles of Sion. How shall we sing the song of the Lord EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. * 21 in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, may my right hand be forgotten : may my tongue cleave to my jaws if I do not remember thee if I do not place Jerusalem as the beginning of my joy." Yes, my friends, human nature is the same in every age and throughout the world. The Israelite in Babylon, and the Irishman in his own land of streams, equally felt the hand of the oppressor. I shall not continue. But, how could the music of my country not be mournful melody? I shall not dwell upon the misrepresentations of hired traducers which have been substituted for our history. I shall not remind you of the horrible falsehoods which have been deliberately given to the world by the enemies of our fathers. I shall not tell of the legalized plunder, of the per- secution of centuries, by which it was sought to change the religion of a nation, and by which the rights of conscience were destroyed by those who proclaimed themselves to the world as the only supporters of those rights. We, my friends, differ very much in our religious doctrines, yet we live in the harmony of affection, each respecting the rights of his friend, and claiming for himself what he concedes to his brother. We can weep over the crimes of those who have ruined our country, and we can learn wisdom from the exhibition of their havoc, and better appreciate the blessings of which we are here made partakers. To one fact only will I briefly advert, and it stands unparalleled, as far as I can perceive, in the records of of public perfidy. Who does not anticipate the recital of the breach of faith by William and Mary? After many struggles in our unfortunate country, when all the pros- pects for the hunted Catholics of Ireland were confined to whatever opening the force of their army could make, and when that army, after some of the vicissitudes of war, bravely defended the citadel of Limerick, and when the prudent Ginkle saw that the issue was not so certain as the sanguine advocates of his party had promised, he agreed upon terms of capitulation, which were confirmed by the 22 . EPOCHS OF HUSH UISTORY. person then called to fill the British throne, and by his queen. By this agreement the Catholic garrisons were delivered up, the army was disbanded, and William was acknowledged as their lawful king, but lie in return was to leave them unmolested upon the score of religion, and to confirm in the possession of their estates those who had not been previously plundered on account of their faith, under the pretext of rebellion. A generous people, under the impression that the royal word was sacred and the national guarantee of a public treaty was inviolable, gave up their posts, laid down their arms, and prepared to worship God, and to cultivate their lands ; when a British parliament pretended that the king had exceeded his powers, and persecuted and worried the defenceless and betrayed people who mistook its character ; and yet this parliament modestly charged its deluded victims with holding as a principle that no faith was to be kept with heretics ! Dark and more dark are the tints in which the times must be painted. Let us not too closely view the picture. Oh, well do I recollect the relations of my aged countrymen, when, seated on their knees, I listened to the tales of their sufferings, and the reality of the evils which they endured from the men who claimed pre-eminence in civilized society, exceeded the descriptions of romance. The highly colored tints of the poet, who writes to make his readers weep, are light and vapid when contrasted with the glowing streaks of oppression which may be traced on the humbled children of Ireland. How often have I wept at the escapes and the endurance of my grandsires ! Their lot was humble, because they professed the religion of their progenitors. Never, never whilst memory holds her seat shall I forget the story of the woes of my father, which with tears he related to me to prove my comparative happi- ness ; for he narrowly escaped the fate of a felon, because, without changing his religion, he dared to explore the vestibule of science ; l and yet the people of Ireland i Vide MEMOIR. EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 23 are accused of being ignorant ! Oh, my friends, what is that policy which barbarizes, and then reproaches you with barbarism? It is true that, in comparison with my progenitors of a few centuries, my trials have been nothing. But, thank God, I at length breathe the air of a freeman, and no one reproaches me with the causes of my glory that I am sprung from a country which was civilized before others were discovered ; that my religion is coeval with Christianity, coextensive with civilization. How many of her sons did this desolate mother send out to signalize themselves upon the continent of Europe during this lengthened persecution. How much literature did she preserve in her bogs, on hc-r mountains, and in her morasses, notwithstanding the laws which were enacted against learning, unless at the sacrifice of the creed of her people. Thus was she glorious even in the day of her dejection. But a moment is found for the mind to rest without torture in the examination. Let us, however, keep to our object, and before we come to that moment, let us draw the conclusions, and establish our moral. O, ter quaterque beati, may we pronounce the sons of America not for having fallen under their walls without having witnessed the ruin of their country but for enjoying all the blessings of freedom without having tasted the bitterness of slavery, and without having experienced the afflictions of persecution. O, nimium felices si sua bona norint. They do not value the mighty benefits, the want of which they have never experienced. Let them see an island rich in soil and blooming in culture, yet a prey to every species of tyranny and despotism, filled with crime and a charnel-house from the executioner ; these are the lamentable consequences of sectional and sectarian broils; the force of her people is broken, their energies are paralyzed, and they are the prey of a despicable oligarchy, because they permit themselves to be foolishly excited and wickedly played off against each other. Oh, tell it to you/ children and to your children's children, and let them transmit the moral to your latest 24 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. descendants. My country has been ruined because her people were parcelled into parties, and the parties were like the offspring of the dragon's teeth, armed for mutual destruction. The balmy air of charity surrounds and invigorates us here. Oh, may it never be tainted ! But this folly could not last forever, and the human mind, left to itself, would soon trace the causes, and the human heart, unbiassed, would yearn for their removal. The progress of nature must be the same in Ireland as else- where, and men of understanding and of honesty saAV the causes and were anxious to remove them. The Presbyterians of the North, in the latter part of the last century, cherished in their bosoms the flame of patriotism and the glow of humanity. Ulster nobly showed that Ireland, uninfluenced by external causes, would still rise to her proper place, and never did a more cheering light break in upon a benighted people than that which those brave men then created. Many distinguished members of the Established Church also, as far as the private exertions of individuals could redeem the character of a body, did try to aid 'their afflicted Catholic countrymen, and thus rescue themselves from that obloquy which the conduct of the united Church and State had flung upon the British nation. A. host of intellect was marshalled under the banner of national feeling. Never till then was such a galaxy of genius exhibited in so small a portion of the firmament. Never before did so many brilliant stars glow so conspicuously distinguishable amidst such a flood of light. The place of a standing army was supplied by the patriotic volunteers of Ireland. Dungannon seemed to be the fountain whence salutary and refreshing streams of pure principle were to- flow through the land and to give health to the nation. The mighty mass began to move, and that which had become putrescent from- stagnation was becoming purified as it was agitated ; the impulse was communicated to the very citadel of corruption, and even what was called the Irish parlia- ment was forced for once to speak the voice of the Irish EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. ' 25 nation. It was too soon, however, to detect the falsehoods which had so long been circulated as history; there was neither time nor inclination as yet to examine into the calumnies which had been sedulously propagated against the creed and the principles of the Roman Catholics ; but though they were by many good but deceived men thought to be unfit for liberty and undeserving of kindness, still, even common humanity shrunk back from the glimpse of their degradation and afflictions, and men who had during the greater portion of two centuries been treated with the most unparalleled barbarity, were almost goaded into bar- barism. No wonder that the good men who were inclined to acts of kindness should almost believe the fictitious atrocities of former times to have been facts, when they met with suspicion and reserve where they sought for confidence that they might be beneficent; when they observed that the hand which they unbound sometimes grasped a weapon of defence. Nor can it be to us a matter of surprise that a being who has been frequently deceived to his serious injury by persons of a particular class, should be cautious of con- fiding in any individual of that body, how pure soever may be his motive for seeking reliance, and how beneficent soever may be his intention, and however fair may be - the appear- ances. Neither can we be astonished that he, who has been sorely distressed, and is still under mitigated persecution, should sometimes seek to retaliate even upon a man who, though less cruel than his predecessor, is yet unjust. Thus, the very natural conduct of men, who had been almost brutalized by oppression, too often leads the unreflecting to believe that they must have been originally barbarians. And he who would justify the oppression will very naturally seize upon so plausible a pretext for its justification, and will forge testimony to prove the pretended necessity of the original crime. The mind is carried away in the vortex of some passion, in the midst of those scenes. It is next to impossible but to belong to a party. But here you are fitted for calm and rational investigation. Here is to be found an 26 - EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. inquiring mind, a patience of research, a solicitude for knowl- edge ; and, although hitherto America has been generally deceived in its taking the history of our country from the writings of its enemies, still I cherish the hope, and I feel pleased in the anticipation, that the people of this Union will be the first to do justice to the land of my fathers ; for there certainly does exist, if I be not greatly deceived, a strong sympathy between the land of my birth and the land of my adoption, and never was mind better fitted for dispas- sionate research after truth, than that which I meet with every day. But to leave this digression. In 1782 Ireland almost "became a nation. There, unfortunately, the interest of the people was not that of the government, and we observe the cortsequence. The volunteers are separated ; some of the leading talent is purchased. A new scene, however, comes under our observation. The Synod of Ulster is pure; never in a body was there found more true patriotism than in the body of the Presbyterian clergy of Ireland of that day. Possessing the confidence of their flocks, and standing aloof from the Castle of Dublin and its contaminating influence, they were feared and respected; they loved the country, they took pity upon the oppressed Catholic, they were joined l>y many of the best, and bravest, and most virtuous lay- members of the Established Church, they gave the right hand of fellowship to the Catholic, and they formed a brotherhood of Irishmen of all religious persuasions. These United Irishmen intended to have done their country service. The Hon. Robert Stuart, subsequently better known as Lord Castlereagh, was their first chairman. This holy alliance should be broken up, or the people of Ireland must be no longer oppressed. Their objects were simple, and substan- tial, and just, and constitutional to obtain a fair represen- tation of the people in the House of Commons, and to put an end to persecution on the score of religion. The attainment of these objects would have healed the evils of the country, but would not have suited the views of the EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 27 oligarchy which had long been the bane of the kingdom. The Presbyterians were told that, as being Protestants, they should receive some aid towrrJs the support of their clergy, and the regium donuin by which the ministers were made dependent upon the bounty of the crown instead of the benevolence of the people, broke down their fine spirit of patriotic independence, and made them an appendage of the British throne a body that must be obsequious to the executive, or be in indigence. The Catholic aristocracy, con- sisting of some peers and baronets, and a few of the old proprietors, who almost miraculously had preserved, through a. thousand perils, some remnants of their estates, were easily brought over, the principal bishops were cajoled, and flattered, and deceived, and the elective franchise and a few other benefits were conferred upon the Catholics, and the torch of religious discussion was lit up amongst the people that they might be divided and governed; and the same Lord Castlereagh was, on the part of the government, the man who principally regulated this destruction. Thus, again, by sectarian hatred were the hopes of the nation destroyed. I confine myself to this moral. This is enough. Here we have religious differences ; but here we freely discuss religious topics in language respectful to the feelings of each other ; here each follows the conviction of his own mind, and is accountable only at the tribunal of that God who will judge us all, and to whom only we stand or fall, and He alone can clearly decide who is obstinately or care- lessly wrong, and who is innocently and invincibly ignorant of His truth, and His justice requires the condemnation of the former, but His mercy protects the latter. Whilst we sedulously inquire, and freely discuss, we must leave to Him His exclusive prerogative, that of deciding upon the merit and the fate of individuals. He who, positively certain of his adhesion to truth, would call down fire from heaven upon unbelieving cities or obstinate individuals, knows not by what spirit he is led. It is the pride of human passion, and not the ardor of religious zeal. Persecution makes hypo- 28 EPOCHS OF IRISII HISTORY. crites ; to hate a person even for infidelity is a crime against charity, and to grasp the sword to punish for unbelief is to usurp the seat of the judging Son of Man. I do not know of any other to whom that commission has been given. No person who wants charity will enter heaven, and to usurp the exclusive office of the Redeemer is not the best ground on which a claim of salvation can rest. I possess evidence of truth, but I cannot, without being able to inspect the mind of him who differs from me, possess evidence that he knows himself to be in opposition to truth. Free discussion and difference of doctrine are perfectly com- patible with affection and charity. But hatred, and religious discord, and persecution have destroyed many nations and ruined many souls. Let us learn wisdom from the misfor- tunes of my country. One little remnant yet is to be found of what approaches to independence. It is like the solitary column which lifts its capital in the midst of the ruins of what Avas once a splendid temple. You may judge of what the entire had been, by inspecting the proportions and the workmanship of this relic, and surveying the extent of the fragments by which it is surrounded. When all was perfect, the parts gave mutual support, and the edifice combined strength and beauty. Now, this unprotected piece is blown upon by every wind and must bear the brunt of every storm, and, indeed, it must have been originally well constructed to survive in its isolated grandeur. Do not blame me when I tell you, I feel proud at saying, this is the body of the Catholic clergy of Ireland. These men have always shared the afflictions of the people in a twofold proportion. From the Archbishop of Armagh, who numbers his predecessors up to St. Patrick, to the youngest priest with whom I was associated, I speak what I know, when I assert that they were enlightened, liberal, and virtuous, and that, although they felt it to be their duty to preserve th,e peace of the land, and to soothe the irritation of the people, they also felt deeply for the wrongs EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 29 of their country. They withstood the insult of mockery, the superciliousness of privileged petulance, the rude ignorance of a saucy squirearchy, the allurements of those who proffered bribes, and the threats of those who were in power. Once, and once only, was the apostolic simplicity of a portion of the bishops almost overreached by the wiles of the destroyer of his country. Lord Castlereagh offered to relieve the people from the burden of supporting their clergy, and requested to know whether in return the government could obtain security that none but loyal men should be promoted to bishoprics, so that, through the superintendence of such men as might be safely relied upon, the loyalty of the whole clerical body might be confirmed. The four archbishops and six bishops, who were trustees of the college which had then been just established, were thus led to say that they con- sidered the proposition one which was reasonable and which ought to be acceded to. Unused to the chicane of politicians, or to the duplicity of courtiers, they judged of the honesty of others by the standard of their own unsuspecting integrity, and the wily statesman, having obtained their assent to a principle of concession, suffered the whole transaction to lie as if unobserved and forgotten, until in due time, upon the pressure of the petitions of the people for their rights, a hint was given that, if this principle was carried into practice, and the king allowed a negative upon the appoint- ment of bishops, some little new indulgence would be granted, and if a secretary of state was made the organ of communication ' between the bishops and the Pope, perhaps a little more might be added. The bishops, the priests, and the people, horrified at the proposal, exclaimed with one voice against the mischief which they now saw impend- ing. The former concession of the principle was pleaded, but the good men protested that they had been deceived. Thus was the country agitated by the question of the veto and the arrangements, and the people again embroiled upon a question of religion, that they might be divided and oppressed. 30 EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. Well do I remember the history of this contest, for though my place was insignificant, I had my post in the field, and it was on the side of the people. The clergy joined their bishops in declaring that they would subsist upon the voluntary donations of their flocks, rather than be enriched to the manifest danger of the purity of their religion, and with the jealousy of the people. The people exclaimed : " You may regulate religious concerns as you will, that is the province of the bishops ; but the instant you accept a pension from the government you forfeit our confidence, for you become the slaves of the crown, spies upon your flocks. Look to Ulster ; see what the rcyium donum has done. We have but a small remnant of the liberties of our country, you are as yet uncontaminated ; every body which the government has come in contact of friendship with has been polluted ; touch it and we separate from you. We are jealous of your virtue, we love what has been left of our freedom." This was their language; this is called agitation. As yet, thank God, this clergy and this people have withstood the storm. But this relic of the national fabric is daily assailed. May God protect and preserve it; for it yet shows in a pious and patriotic priest- hood what Ireland might have been. May God long preserve the liberties of America from any union of any Church with any State ! In any country, with any religion, it is an unnatural increase of the power of the executive against the liberties of the people. No wonder that from a country like this the emigrant should arrive upon your shores, with his feelings sore and his passions excited and burning with recollections. He loves to remain near those spots which his fathers have inhabited during centuries, spots which are blended with the reminiscences of childhood, with the joys of his youth ; those spots upon which his friends are still found. Oh ! he loves his country and his friends, but he cannot endure to bo scourged with scorpions by strangers who have been placed as his taskmasters ; and he cannot banish all his recollections EPOCHS OF IRISH HISTORY. 31 even amidst the endearing attachments which he makes in a land of freemen. It will then be permitted to us this day to enjoy the melancholy gratification of contemplating the former greatness of our country, and going back in spirit and affection to the laud of our fathers, to the island of shamrocks, to the emerald gem of the ocean, for 'Though glory be gone, and though hope fade away, Yet thy name, loved Erin, shall live in our songs; Not even in the hour when this heart is most gay, Shall it lose the remembrance of thee and thy wrongs. The stranger shall hear us lament on his plains, The sigh of our harp shall be sent o'er the deep, Till thy masters themselves, as they rivet thy chains, Shall pause at the song of their captive and weep. THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 1 IT is related that St. John the Evangelist was once observed by a hunter, amusing himself with a bird. The astonishment manifested in the countenance of the observer, who remained gazing intently, was soon noticed by the apostle, and he inquired for its cause. " I am struck with amazement," replied the hunter, "to see you, who are so much esteemed for wisdom and sanctity, employed in so trivial an occupation! How unlike is your present position to that which you are generally supposed to hold?" The saint remarked that his observer's bowstring was loose, and inquired why he did not keep it tight. " Were I to do so," said the hunter, "my bow would loose its elasticity, and soon become useless." " The human mind," observed the evangelist, "is like your instrument; it would be destroyed by perpetual tension." Whatever position, then, it may be your lot to occupy in the employments of the world, you will need to apply the energies of your mind to the proper discharge of its duties. The grave study of the law, the deep reflections of medical science, the absorbing cares of political life, the intense application to business, the deep interest of your family concerns, your sympathy for friends, and a thousand other importunate demands will draw largely upon your time and upon your feelings, and will compel exertion; but you will also feel the necessity of relaxation. So that, in fact, its regulation is one of the most important concerns of life ; and the neglect of its arrangement is preg- >An address delivered before the Demosthenian and Phi Kappa Societies of Franklin College, Athens, Georgia, August 5, 1810. (32) THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 33 nant with the most dangerous consequences to youth and to manhood. Some persons, at an early age, under pretext of relaxation, contract habits which become in after life the sources of their ruin. It is one of the misfortunes of our nature, that they who have been the victims of crime are almost neces- sarily thereafter its abettors, and this not merely upon the well-observed principle which spreads its influence over every ago and every nation, Solamen miscris soeios habuisse doloris ; there is not only a malicious satisfaction in knowing and exhibiting that we are not without associates in our degra- dation and our depravity ; but they who have exhausted their own springs of indulgence in dissipation, feel it necessary to have companions who yet possess a supply that will suffice for both. At a time, then, when experience lias not brought caution, when passion is strong, when the desire of novelty is great, when, under the alluring names of liberty and independence, wholesome restraints arc easily laid aside, and the buoyant spirit of youth loves indulgence, cunning self-interest frequently bestows the name of necessary recreation upon those pursuits which degrade and destroy, and thus seduces the generous and the inexperienced into habits which are easily formed, but which it requires time, labor, and perseverance to overcome. This is one of the most copious sources of intoxication, of licentiousness, of idleness, and of dissipation ; by these the peace, the honor, the property, and the respectability of families are destroyed, and they, who might have been the ornaments of their State and the benefactors of their race, sink dishonored to an early grave, occasioning grief and drawing tears from their survi- vors, not so much for their departure, but because of their havoc and their disgrace. The relaxations of uncivilized nations are for the most part characterized by their vulgarity, their cruelty, or their licentiousness ; and as men are raised upon the scale of refinement, their amusements generally lose many of these marks. The cultivation of literature is one of the ordinary 34 THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. and natural means of thus elevating man, and hence it lias been, at an early period, well observed : Ingcnuas dldlcisse fidelitcr artes cmmoiit mores ncc sinit csse feros. The boisterous whoop, the rude familiarity, the dangerous jostle, the exhibition of grotesque mummery, the casting of ridicule upon our fellows, or exhibiting them in awkward predica- ments in the view of others, are, to many persons of vulgar' feelings, sources of infinite amusement; and they who thus delight in the annoyance of their associates are persons who would, for similar treatment in respect to themselves, seek a marked revenge. Our feelings are not unfrequently put to unpleasant trials at even reading the description of the tortures inflicted upon their prisoners, by savage tribes, and the enjoyment which the suffering affords to the cruel executioner. Nor docs history confine the recital to the deeds of such rude hordes. The arena of the amphitheatre witnessed the shouts of the delighted multitude, whilst its sand drank up the expiring gladiator's blood, or yet exposed the reeking fragments of the half-devoured bodies of Christian victims which the beasts of prey tore for the entertainment of their no less savage beholders. Surely I need not draw your attention to the excitement of beasts and even birds, and the arming them for mutual destruction, to afford the opportunity of relaxation and enjoyment, united to the indulgence of their love of gambling, to men said to be respectable. What a spectacle to behold! A man whose mind is cast in the most perfect mould, and upon whose character and conduct a lovely family has rested all its hope, to whom a vicinage looks for its weight and its respectability, forgetting his proper place and madly risking the means of fortune and of fame for himself and for others upon the superior instinct for destruc- tion or the fortuitous exposure or activity of a poor bird, thus unnaturally excited and thus wickedly armed ! Do these cruel sports add dignity to our nature ? Do they confer benefits upon society? I shall not speak of the more criminal and more destructive and degrading dissipation to THE PLEASURES OF THE SC1IOLAU. 35 which idleness conducts, to which excess stimulates, and for which the other indulgences usually prepare. How extensive is the blight that has been produced by their united influence ! Relaxation is necessary, but it should be rational. It ought to be suited to renew our powers without destroying our morals or impairing our standing in society. And surely no one will pretend that our faculties are improved, or that our powers of mind or body are renewed, preserved or invigorated by the indulgence in pursuits which necessarily demoralize. Such habits not only relax the vigor of our mental faculties, but they undermine even the bodily powers. There is an inherent respect and love for virtue in the human mind, which even the most depraved course of vice cannot utterly destroy, and which no power of sophistry can delude. I have conversed in his dungeon with the outcast of society, and whilst he braved the scorn of the world and affected to despise its condemnation, he avowed that he could not extinguish the glimmerings of conscience nor be insen- sible to its reproof. And whilst in defiance of mankind he lifted himself in the bad spirit of unyielding pride even to blaspheme the God of heaven and to deny the sanctions of virtue, his heart quailed at his own misconduct, whilst he sought to make the recklessness of despair pass for the courage that accompanies the convictions of truth. Thus it is that the agonies of self-reproach consume the force of the understanding, enervate the soul, and drive the criminal from the calm pursuit of truth and the industrious collection of knowledge, to seek for protection against his inward monitor, by recurring to the distractions of external dissipation and sometimes even that he may obstruct the power of memory by plunging into stupefaction. Hence it is that all writens upon science, and especially when they treat of its applica- bility to the improvement of others, lay down as a maxim, that its votary should be virtuous, if he would be successful. And indeed what is thus said of science is true of every other useful occupation. The attainment of success requires 36 THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. that the unbroken powers of the soul should be directed to secure it; but this cannot be the case where they are prostrated by remorse or impaired by irregular habits. If is true, that rare instances of partial success are occasionally found as exceptions to this position. They are, however, not only exceptions, but they are, in general, fearful examples, which show us how some mighty mind, gathering the shat- tered forces which it still retains, may in one splendid effort achieve its object by its own destruction; just as the com- mander, who has prodigally wasted the lives of many of his gallant soldiers by his indiscretion, finding himself driven to his last entrenchment, determines at least to save the city which he covers, and marshalling the fragments of his once powerful host, urges them by word and by example to one noble act of devotion. The assault is desperate and the result is doubtful ; until, at length, the protected city comes forth to weep over the remains of those, who, victims not only to valor, but to wanton waste, perished on the very field where they annihilated a foe which they could at an earlier period have subdued with a trifling loss, and having saved their country might have survived to receive its gratitude and to share in its prosperity. I need not enter upon any elucidation of the well-known fact that the close union of the mind and body induces a palpable injury to the mental powers as a consequence of the derangement of the bodily functions. Witness the ravings from fever, the dejection of the dyspeptic, the languor of the consumptive, the stupor of the dissipated. Nor is it requisite that I should even advert to the notorious effects of immorality or dissipation upon the human frame. To me it has always appeared a great mistake to imagine that the preservation of political equality required the destruction of distinctions in society. To secure the first, which is of primary importance in our republics, I conceive it to be sufficient that each individual shall be upon* an equality with his fellow-citizens in the eye of the law ; so that the rule by which his property, his peace, and his rights THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 37 are preserved, shall be the same which preserves them for every other ; that he shall be liable to punishment only for 'those acts that are punishable in another, and be tried and convicted only by a similar process. Moreover, that every citizen shall be on a level in the eye of the constitution ; that is, that each has only the same burdens to bear, the same duties to perform, and has, according to his qualifica- tion, an equal claim to posts of honor or of emolument as any other. In a word, that no one shall have the prerogative, that no class shall be privileged. This in my view forms the extent to which our equality should go. To attempt forcing it beyoncj these limits would be not only ridiculous and impracticable, but the effort would be destruc- tive. Can you establish an equality of property? Suppose you were able to effect it to-day, how long will it continue? "Will all be alike industrious ? will all be equally intelligent ? will all be equally successful? Will all be alike parsimo- nious, or lavish, or equally burdened with families, visited by sickness, swept by floods, or stricken by lightning? You cannot prevent the existence of classes of rich and poor and of comfortable. Diversified as the expressions of countenance is the variety of tastes. Will you compel them to an equality in this regard? Whilst I leave others to a perfect freedom upon this score, shall I not have a just claim to my own freedom also? And shall not they, whose taste is the same, be permitted to cultivate it without being intruded upon by others who would mar that cultivation ? There are, I believe, but two restraints which should be reasonably imposed here upon individuals or associations, viz.: 1. That this gratification of taste should not be immoral, and 2, That it should not infringe upon the rights of others. The ground of these restraints is so plain that I shall not point it out. It is impossible then, that there should not exist in every community various classes whose taste is more or less refined, "nor* does the cultivation of refinement in our habits impair the equality of our civil and political rights. It would be indeed a cruel tyranny to compel an individual to seek for THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. his enjoyment only in that which, though it suits the taste of another, yet is altogether in opposition to his own. Still as a general principle it is expected that they, who move in the more refined and better informed circles of society, should conform to the usages of their associates in the very character of their relaxation, for the similarity of their education and of their early habits supposes a general similarity of taste. Our progress through life is comparatively brief, and it is our duty, not only to ourselves, but to society, to be useful whilst we are able. The great bulk of human happiness and of human prosperity has been created by the industry of man. Our predecessors have thus been our benefactors, and the fruits of their ingenuity and exertions have been to us a most valuable legacy. It is not long since the " red man" occupied the lands which surround us and what was his position? He inherited the regions through which he roamed ; but because he had little of that stock of improvement which the " pale face " possessed, the soil was comparatively useless in his hands. And in the accumulation of that scries of ingenious discoveries which produces so much benefit for us, no inconsiderable portion is the result of well-directed relaxation, in which men of mighty minds indulged as a relief from graver study. With some the cultivation of music, with some the charms of poetry, with some the studies of nature in her more choice and elegant productions, whilst others improved mechanism and aided the useful arts even for their amusement. Nor is the hour of social indulgence and good companionship always useless. It may often be profitably spent in that way which Curran described, in his apostrophe to Lord Avonmore, as usual with the "Monks of the Screw:" " This soothing hope I draw from the dearest and tenderest recollections of my life from the remembrance of those Attic nights and those refections of the gods, which we have spent with those admired, and respected, and beloved companions who have gone before us ; over whose THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 39 ashes the most precious tears of Ireland have been shed. Yes, my good Lord, I see you do not forget them. I see their sacred forms passing in sad review before your memory. I see your pained and softened fancy recalling those happy meetings, Avhere the innocent enjoyment of social mirth became expanded into the nobler warmth of social virtue, and the horizon of the board became enlarged into the horizon of man where the swelling heart conceived and communicated the generous purpose ; where my slenderer and younger taper imbibed its borrowed light from the more matured and redundant fountain of yours. Yes, my Lord, we can remember those nights without any other regret than that they can never more return, for 'We spent them not in toys, or lust, or wine, But search of deep philosophy, Wit, eloquence and poesy, Arts which I loved, for they, my friend, were thine.' " Cowley. Relaxation is, then, necessary for man, but whilst he indulges in it to a proper extent, he should avoid the per- nicious, degrading, and ruinous modes which too often present themselves to persons of every age, and to which inexperi- enced, ardent, and innocent youth is unfortunately allured by the most "wily blandishments. Our recreations should be suited to the place we occupy, and made to subserve the improvement of ourselves, as well as the interests of the community. It has frequently struck me that one of the secondary objects of a good collegiate education was to afford to men of improved minds and cultivated taste one of the best resources for the purposes alluded to ; and that one of the greatest mistakes usually made by our educated men was, casting aside as useless, after their graduation, the books to whose study they had been kept for so many years. It is, indeed, in a great degree natural, that having theretofore regarded them as instruments of task-work, and that frequently of no 40 THE PLEASURES OF THE light description, the mind, now rejoicing in its emancipation, should view them as a liberated prisoner would the manacles from which he was relieved. This, however, is not a correct estimate. They should rather be considered as the means by whose use the mind has become greatly enriched. It was necessary in a large measure to compel the youth to industry that he might acquire mental wealth ; it has been collected, and is treasured up ; by a little exertion, he not only will easily preserve what has been put together, but will greatly add to its value ; if, however, he remain listless and idle, even what he has already acquired will rapidly dwindle away. I l*ave known men, who, during protracted lives, found in the cultivation of classical literature that relaxation which improved whilst it relieved the mind. The last survivor of those who pledged their lives and fortunes, and nobly redeemed their sacred honor, in the achievement of our glorious inheritance of liberty, was a striking instance of this. "When nearly fourscore years had passed away from the period of his closing the usual course of classical educa- tion, after the perils of a revolution, after the vicissitudes of party strife, when the decay of his faculties warned him of the near approach of that hour when he should render an account of his deeds to that Judge who was to decide his fate for eternity, from his more serious occupations of prayer and self-examination, and from the important concern of managing and dividing his property, would diaries Carroll, of Carrollton, turn for refreshment to those classic authors with whom he had been familiar through life ; his soul would still feel emotion at the force of Tully's eloquence or melt at Virgil's pastoral strain. Perhaps, the very selection in early life of this, as the best mode of mental indulgence, tended much to insure to him, not only his patriarchal age, but the calm and serene frame of mind which was also well calculated to preserve health and to promote longevity. When the young man is thus occupied, and enjoys the literary gratification, he is less THE PLEASURES OF THE SCUULAL'. 41 disposed to search for that society or to rush into those indulgences, which, whilst they destroy the powers of the mind, undermine the vigor of the constitution, and are the prelude to years of remorse and to a life of difficulties. This relaxation is unquestionably very rational, perfectly dignified, and would, I have no doubt, be found eminently useful by all who would adopt it. There are many who regard classical studies merely as an exercise to become acquainted with the dead languages of Greece and Home, so that we may be able to read the productions of their authors, and thus become acquainted with their learning. And they very naturally tell us, that,, being possessed of good translations, whose accuracy is acknowledged, we can with more facility and precision, and in an incomparably less portion of time, learn all that they "could teach. This appears plausible, and would be true if its assump- tion were a fact. But such is not the case. The object is not to learn the languages merely for this purpose. In the first place, the object is to form the mind to habits of industry, to precision and accuracy of judgment, as well as to imbibe principles of just criticism by a discipline eminently fitted to this end. If the teacher, as in too many instances is unfortunately the case, especially in young com- munities, be not himself capable of appreciating the value of the course, or of usefully conducting a pupil through it, the fault lies in the incompetency of him who undertakes, not in the inutility of that which is undertaken. In learning properly a dead language, there is no room for idleness without detection, because every word should be accounted for, its derivation traced with accuracy, every inflection ought to be known, and its precise signification should be pointed out ; the dependence of words upon each other must be understood, and the rules of that dependence ascer- tained and applied. This is the indispensable basis of sound classical knowledge ; and I ask, whether it be possible to- have the youthful mind occupied during years in this- 42 THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. process, without producing habits of industry and research? When this knowledge has been perfectly acquired, no diffi- culty presents itself in perusing the works of the ancients, but each day new gratification is derived from the discoveries that are constantly made in the very structure of the language itself; words are separated into their most minute portions, the original expressions are found in which men first called objects by their most simple appellations, and the composition of the word shows the combinations found in some new object, and this detection of the analogy between language and its objects leads to a most improving and delightful process of philosophy. I am aware, however, that comparatively few persons are admitted into this field of recreation, because few persons labor to furnish themselves with the key by means of which they can enter; for, by reason of either their own or theif teacher's neglect, they have not acquired that accurate notion of the original language that would relieve them from trouble in its perusal, or would enable them to follow up the discoveries to which I allude; and therefore the book is closed, abandoned, and soon forgotten. Figure to yourselves a young man whose parents compelled him, through long years of tedious and often painful occupa- tion, to reclaim a rich piece of ground and to cultivate it with care ; see it now given to him as a possession, not only in the highest state of culture, but with an exuberant and inexhaustible depth of soil, with hands sufficient for its tillage accustomed to the performance of their task; what would your estimate be of the judgment and taste of this young proprietor, should he proclaim to his servants that they need not labor, should he take no concern in the management of his land, and should he suffer it to become waste through mere negligence? It will not remain unpro- ductive. Should it not be cultivated, its very fertility will hasten its progress to renewed wildness ; the noisome weed will spring up luxuriantly, the tangled underwood will thicken, and the rising trees will interweave their roots TUB PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 43 below the surface more quickly than their arms will meet above. Such is the figure of the human mind, such the consequence of neglecting, by a little care, to cultivate in your .leisure moments that classical knowledge which you have acquired. The discipline, by which you have been brought to the knowledge of this ancient language fits your mind for the graver studies and the more pressing cares of your manhood, as it was itself that best calculated for your adolescence, because your curiosity was excited and gratified by the subjects that were submitted to your examination ; and though you found some labor in ascending towards the temple of science, yet were you attracted by some flower that invited you forward, and were amply repaid even by the expansion of the horizon and the riches of the scenery that were spreading before you as you arose. Having once overcome the difficulties of the ascent, if you preserve your position, the labor has terminated, and the enjoyment is within your control. Thus, what was originally an arduous task becomes, by perseverance in its use, a pleasing recreation. The proper study of the classics requires extensive acquaint- ance with ancient history. The writers, whose works are placed in the pupil's hand, were men of information, accurately instructed, not only in the history of their own times, but of those which preceded them. They often treat specially of the important events of those remote days, or they make direct allusions to them, to understand whose force we must become exactly informed of the facts themselves ; and thus the classical student is drawn insensibly to acquire a vast fund of information in this department, in a mode which stores the mind by a far more pleasing process than that of sitting down professedly to pore over the dry recital of some ancient chronicler of events. Take, for instance, the JEneid of Virgil and contemplate the vast accumulation of historical details to which it refers. It is true that the student must labor sedulously at first, and must consult many THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. a dictionary and many a map ; he must become acquainted with the early settlements of the little States that covered Asia Minor, that filled the Archipelago and the continent of Greece ; he must learn the origin and the progress of Latium, the Tyrian migrations to the coast of Africa, Lnd much more that you will easily recollect. But in the midst of this research, he is allured to persevere by the sweet warbling of the poet whose full meaning he desires to comprehend. It is thus that the years, which are said to be lost in the mere acquisition of an useless tongue, are employed in laying up treasures that may prove so valuable in after life. And it is thus that the mind, after having acquired this knowl- edge, can, without exertion, recall and preserve it as it relaxes from its laborious occupations, to enjoy the harmony of the Mantuan bard ; just as when, with extraordinary labor, great research, and no inconsiderable expenditure, a fine cabinet of science has been collected from the several regions of the globe and the various kingdoms of knowledge, the exertions and the study for its arrangement are fatiguing, but it subsequently is the source for enriching the mind with intellectual wealth, easily acquired, the occasion of refreshing, for the memory, that which would have faded away, and an agreeable and entertaining retreat in the hour of necessary relaxation. Persuaded that a principal obstacle to making the knowl- edge of the classics subserve the great object of polished recreation, is to be found in the imperfection of the reading, I shall illustrate, by a passage from one of the great masters of criticism the position I have taken respecting the necessity of deep study in our early life, to render those books delight- ful in after days : "You, then, whose judgment the right course would steer, Know well each ancient's proper character; His fable, subject, scope in every page ; Religion, country, genius of his age ; Without all these at once before your eyes, Cavil you may, but never criticise." Pope. THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 45 You will then perceive, that, not only mere history, such as I have alluded to, is required to be well known as a preliminary to understanding those authors, but history of another description, and respecting which there is much less accurate information, even amongst men of literary repu- tation, than is generally suspected. The mythology or his- tory of their ancient religious systems is far more necessary to be known by him who would become acquainted with the writers of those early times, than is a knowledge of the Christian religion for the person who would know the scope and meaning of the philosophical or scientific writers of our own age and nation ; because their religion entered more extensively into the writings of all classes amongst them, than does ours into the compositions of our mere secular authors. Perhaps I shall be thought at least rash for the assertion that this field is very little examined into, but I could easily sustain my position, first, because the value of mythology is greatly underrated ; next, because, when a mere vague general notion of its nature is formed, it is thought to be sufficiently known; and thirdly, because many persons, through an affectation of contempt for its puerility and folly, regard its study as at least a great waste of time. I shall only say that some of the finest passages of the poets and philosophers are scarcely intelligible to those who do not trace mythological history, from the first aber- rations of the human mind in the ancient nations, through all their varied forms of worshiping the host of heaven instead of its Creator ; of paying the highest homage to genii, to angels, and to demons, whilst they denied it to the God who made them ; of beholding the universal soul spread through the whole visible world and manifesting itself in the fire of Persia ; in the waters of Egypt, entering into its oxen and its leeks ; found in the rude stone of the Scythian equally as in the Bactrian torrent, the Druid's oak, or the African sun. Nor is it for the classics alone this research is necessary ; its results elucidate the pages of the Old Testament ; and the reveries of Manes and the 46 THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. imaginings of Plato must be known in order to compre- hend the inspired passages of St. Paul and St. John. But I touch upon a topic from which I have determined to abstain. It will suffice for me to say tfhat an extensive an.d precise acquaintance with mythology is required for a classical scholar, and that, to obtain it, he must go over a multitude of facts. By means of the knowledge thus obtained, he will find little difficulty in understanding cus- toms that would be otherwise inexplicable or obscure. The histories of Saturn, of Jupiter, and of the other deities, as they are styled, are of a later date, and their character brings them nearer to the period of a more degenerate worship. To obtain this mythological knowledge requires that the student should traverse all the known regions of the ancient world, that his search should be continued through many centuries, that he should be. the associate of the philosopher, the companion of the monarch, the observer of the priest ; that he should go into the camp with the soldier, be seated in the hall of legislation, mingle with the shepherds as they tend their flocks or rehearse their lays. He must go down with the mariner upon the deep, observe the courses of the stars, learn their influences, not only upon the regions of Eolus, but upon the destinies of men. With the augur he must study the habits of the birds, by the soothsayer he will be taught the arrange- ment and the anatomy of beasts, and in company with the Pythoness he must be filled with the inspirations of heaven. Think you that, if the study of man be useful, this is a criminal waste of time? There is, in the palace of the Vatican at Rome, a long corridor, well known to the visitors of that magnificent depository of arts and of literature. As you enter, upon your right hand, the wall is lined from the floor to the ceiling with fragments of marble, containing the rude and the improved inscriptions of Italy, in the days of heathen- ism. An immense vista opens before you, and to its extremity this monumental partition continues ; the images THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 47 of gods, the fragments of idols, the busts of heroes, the figures of philosophers, the statues of emperors, sarcophagi, and pedestals range along its base ; and the learned, the curious, the powerful, and the beautiful, the unbeliever and the pious, the gay and the grave, the libertine and the pilgrim, the British peer, the Spanish grandee, the Ameri- can citizen, the Oriental sage, and the Italian peasant, in all the varied costumes of rank, of nation, of taste, and of caprice, move along the hall, reading the history of other days, and admiring the works of artists who, for multiplied centuries, have been insensible to censure or to praise. There you may detect their living forms, gliding between stern warriors frowning in marble, amidst petrified consuls and gladiators, blended with matrons, nymphs, and satyrs. One of the fathers of the Church has appropriately remarked that any one possessing eyes may look upon the characters of an illuminated volume, and admire the rich- ness of the tints, the beauty of the letters, the decorations of the vellum ; but, had he been taught to read, how much more information would he gather from the document itself! how much more valuable would it be in his estimation ! So, to the scholar, how rich is the mine of knowledge which that corridor contains ! and are not his authors and his recollections like that corridor, to him who has become familiar with their contents ? On your left, as you enter, monuments of another lan- guage are presented to your view. The walls are covered, but the devices are not the same ; the emblems are occa- sionally varied. One monogram, however, in those of the earliest epoch, seems to pervade; the fish is sculptured upon the greater number ; the dove with the .small sprig of olive in its bill is there ; a palm-branch, tinted with red, distinguishes not a few ; an ark, borne upon the waters, surmounted by an arch, is discernible amongst them ; the word PAX is nearly universal. The archaeologist recognizes the symbolic language of early Christendom; and the busts and statues of some of her heroes, and the ornaments of 48 THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. the Galilean religion, mingled with many a relic of those olden days, arranged under the significant and instructive emblem of the oriflam, exhibit the contest and the suffer- ing and the triumph of Christianity! In studies like this, the understanding is informed, the memory is strengthened, and the mind is relieved. In the midst of our struggles through this changing life, it is well to have, in those moments of care, of oppression, and of dejection, some classic scenery which will be to us as a city of refuge, until we shall be able to recruit. The effect will be like that described by the favorite bard of Ireland : "Let fate do her worst, there are relic* of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy, Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories filled, Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still." Moore. The knowledge of geography, it is clear, is required equally as is that of history, and it is impossible to under- stand the ancient authors without having an intimate acquaintance with the lands and the waters of which they treat ; hence, no person has ever been regarded as worthy of the appellation of a scholar, who could not at each epoch describe the political divisions of the earth. Do we allude to dialects in Greece? It will be as necessary for us to be acquainted with the vicinity of the State in which the dialect was used, as with the locality of the State itself. AVc may illustrate this by viewing the continent of Europe to-day. The traveller in Switzerland, for instance, will find in Geneva and the Jura the language to be generally French, because of their vicinity to France. Let him. pass through the Valais, he finds Italian idioms and pronunciation becoming more prevalent as lie goes to the southeast, and upon the Siniplon he will almost fancy "himself already in Italy. THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 49 Proceeding, however, from Berne towards Zurich, the German is blended with the French ; and when lie arrives at St. Gall, or upon the borders of the lake of Constance, his French is next to useless, and before he crosses the Rhine, iio is a bewildered stranger, unless he can use German expressions. The language which is spoken becomes, in some measure, that which is written, where the body of the people can write ; and, amongst ourselves, I expect it would not be hard to calculate the land whence came the man who tells us that he has notions for sale ; and I reckon we should speedily tell the abode of a traveller who would ask the conductor of a railroad car to be careful of his plunder! Customs vary with geographical limits, and we should be amused at the ignorance of him who would clothe the Scythian in the Persian's flowing stole, or invest the Ethiopian with the toga, with equal justice as we would at the folly of him who would declare it absolutely necessary to procure a powdered wig and ermine robes from Westminster Hall, to enable a Georgia judge to open his commission. The Romans knew as little of passing their children through the fire of* Baal, as the Scandinavian did of the worship of Astarte. Gather to-day the remains which may yet be found on the sites of the Volscian cities, take those of a more remote region of Etruria, and place them by the side of the vast collections that the Grsecea Magna of ancient days has yielded, together with the excavations of Pompeii and of Herculaneum, to the splendid collections of Naples; from them you will learn the diversity of epochs, of customs, and of arts, and you will perceive the influence of geographical distinctions, as well as of distant times. I have seen the outlines of figures drawn with anatomical accuracy in frescoes that have, during more than three thousand years, preserved their original tints in an unimpaired brilliancy. I have seen the vases of a later period in another region, and I have seen the productions of the mighty masters who two thousand years ago filled Southern Italy with works of various art, 4 50 THE PLEASURES OF TUB SCHOLAR. that have exceeded those of the most glorious days of Eastern Greece. The phraseology of the several writers who described those ages and their customs came vividly to my recollection, as I contemplated the " breathing brass," or as I saw the evidences of the custom; and I felt how groundless is the notion which some persons would inculcate, that classical studies are but the learning of a dead language ! They demand close and unremitting attention to the geog- raphy of ancient times, tracing the origin and the migrations of colonies, their settlements, their neighbors, their border quarrels, their tactics, their success or their extinction, their government, their customs, their language and its modifica- tions. This is a portion of what we designate as classical knowledge : " Patient CAKE by just degrees "Word and image learns to class; Those confounds and separates these As in strict review, they pass ; Joins as various features strike, Fit to fit and like to like, Till in meek array advance Concord, Method, Elegance." He who, without such information, would presume to claim the high and honorable title of a classical scholar, may be well placed in the same category as the writer who should locate the falls of Niagara upon the Ocmulgee, or the one who would assure us that, after escaping many perils in descending the Chattahoochie, his mind resumed its calm as he found himself quietly gliding from its turbid stream into the deep and broad waters of Delaware Bay, with the Chesapeake expanding in the distance, and Bunker's Hill and the other Alleghanies proudly rising within his view to the clouds. There is no power of the mind which stands in greater need of judicious restraint, and yet which requires more freedom, than does the imagination. Horace finely shows its dangers and its imperfections in the opening of his essay THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 51 on the art of poetry, and lie soon afterwards exhibits the principle of restraint. " But not through nature's sacred rules to break, Monstrous to mix the cruel and the kind, Serpents with birds, and lambs with tigers joined.'' Its duty is to embody, before the mind's eye, some sen- sible representation which shall, when expressed, better arrest the attention of the hearer and communicate information, than will any abstract description. Our nature is not merely spiritual ; the chief part of our knowledge is received through our senses ; we live and we more in a world of sense, amongst objects of sense, and though we may often indulge in metaphysical abstraction, and may reason upon essences and generalizations, yet we are more vividly and powerfully and permanently affected by the objects of sense ; and thus the soul forms for itself, as it were, sensible representations or images of even what in truth are spiritual beings not to be apprehended by our senses, or of an abstrac- tion which has no real existence out of those subjects in which it is found as a quality. Thus, though angels have no bodies, we imagine them existing in bodily shape. Strength is not a being, neither is prudence, nor valor, nor piety, nor strife, nor revenge. The imagination must, as it were, give to them existence in some scenery which rep- resents what it is sought to describe ; the picture must not only show each figure perfect in itself, but the entire must be harmoniously grouped to give a pleasing effect. Akenside finely displays the object "Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores, Whate'er of mimic art's reflected forms, With love and admiration thus inflame The powers of fancy, her delighted sons To three illustrious orders have referr'd Three sister graces, whom the painter's hand, The poet's tongue confesses ; the sublime, The wonderful, the fair. I see them dawn I I see the radiant visions, where they rise, More lovely than when Lucifer displays His beaming forehead through the gates of morn, To lead the train of Phoebus, and the spring." 52 THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. Nothing is more generally admitted than the impossibility of giving a precise and graphical description of what is not plainly seen and accurately comprehended. There is in many minds, and perhaps more generally discoverable in our Southern regions, as great an impatience of that delay and labor necessary to arrange this exhibition, as there is extensive poAver to call up the figures and to cast the scenes. And nothing is better calculated to remedy this very serious evil than habitual and intimate intercourse with the classical authors. Insensibly, the results of the rule they followed become so impressed upon our minds as to cause almost an identification thereof with our habits of thought, and a taste is cultivated which will instinctively detect any aberration from the great principle which was their guide. "Hear how leaned Greece her useful rules indites, When to repress, and when to indulge our flights. High on Parnassus' top her sons she showed And pointed out these arduous paths they trod. Held from afar, aloft, the immortal prize,, And urged the rest by equal steps to ri.-e. Just precepts thus from great examples giv'n She drew from them, what they derived from heav'n." Pope. This creative power of the mind is not only regulated by the use of their precepts and the imitation of their example, it is wonderfully enriched by the vast treasures of materials which they have accumulated. These are inex- haustible for their extent, and wonderful in their variety; though so immense, yet you carry them without inconve- nience, and no robber can despoil you nor speculator strip you. Your own sloth is the only plunderer who can, on this side of the grave, deprive you of the valuable posses- sion. You are also taught, how, from a poor and seem- ingly barren field, you may, by industrious cultivation, raise an abundant harvest. Go to the sands, the groves, the pools, and the sulphureous little mounds of Cumae. How T11E PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 53 uninteresting, how valueless do they appear ! Open the pamphlet of the Canon Jorio, and read the sixth book of the Eneid, as you examine its contracted limits, and how is the scenery changed! The Hell, the Purgatory, and the Heaven of Virgil are around you, Lethe is at your feet, Phlegethon is before you, you find the bark of Charon on the Styx, the rude threatenings of Cerebus are echoed around ; the gloomy Avernus is behind yon, and accom- panied by the Sybil, the shades of the mighty dead pass in review before you. The wand of imagination has brought the surface of the globe, and the generations of multiplied ages, within the narrow compass of a short excursion, and has spread over this barren spot the panoramic view of the years that have passed away, and of the immortality that succeeds them. Yet how far short is this of the power that imagination possesses ? Another serious advantage, derivable from continuing this familiarity with the ancient authors, is, that it affords us ample scope for the study of the human mind, exhibiting its epochs of acquisition in science, its improvement in the arts, the true field for its labors, and the mode in which we may be more likely to insure success. We may thence learn the fallacy of those theories which have, under the garb of philosophy and science, at various times, betrayed great minds into egregious folly. Thus, we perceive immediately that the art of writing and the discovery of letters bear us back to no very remote period from the origin of our Christian epoch, and sustain our religion's history. And though some nations had made progress in legislation, in arts, and in arms, though agri- culture was greatly improved, and commerce extending its dominion, though several mighty monuments were raised at early periods, still the first efforts at writing were exceed- ingly rude, and their application was very limited. We tracs the progress of science from one period to another, but beginning with what was most in demand for the necessities, then the comforts, and subsequently for the luxu- 54 THE PLEASURES UF THE SCHOLAR. ries of man. Yv r e find our forefathers under the influence of the same passions and subject to the same infirmities as we are, and equally the slaves of prejudice and of pride as we are, having the same appetites and taking the like means for their gratification. If we come down to more recent epochs we perceive that though, in the contest with the barbarian, much of the more polished literature and t'.ie finer arts were for a time overwhelmed, still they were not altogether lost, and that the restoration gives a very different appearance from what took place at the invention. Whilst we behold the ancient nations exceeding us in many instances in works of architecture, in persevering industry, in the amassing of wealth, in the productions of their soil, in military prowess, in force of eloquence and the sweets of poetry, in one respect they are confessedly infi- nitely below us, that is, in their notions of God and of religion, and in their maxims of morals. They sought to acquire in the schools of philosophy what we say must be derived from Heaven, and as the contrast in the results is as obvious as is the contrast between the principles, it should seem easy to decide upon a choice as to which should be adopted. Nothing will tend better to confirm what I here allude to than a calm examination of what their best authors testify regarding their opinions and their practice. I have said that we are equally weak as they were, as regards our pride and self-importance. I shall endeavor to illustrate and prove the general truth of my observation. It is related of an Asiatic prince of more modern times, to whom an ambassador was sent from Holland, that he frequently was pleased at hearing from the envoy the extraordinary accounts of the customs and institutions of Europe. On one occasion, speaking of the intensity of cold, of which the monarch had very imperfect notions, the am- bassador told him, that in Holland it sometimes produced such an effect on water that its surface became solid, and THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 55 that men walked on it in safety and transported heavy burdens upon it as they would on land. The prince imme- diately ordered him to quit his dominions for having the effrontery of endeavoring to make him despicable by induc- ing him to believe in the truth of what was naturally impossible, because the experience of every one contra- dicted the notion that any increase of cold could render solid that which was always known to be liquid. It was opposed to the law of nature. Strange as we may deem this decision of the Eastern, I believe you will find it equalled by that of Herodotus, who, remarking upon the statement that certain Egyptians had circumnavigated Africa at an early period, by sailing down the Ked Sea and after a long lapse of time returning by the pillars of Hercules, places his greatest difficulty of receiv- ing their testimony upon the ground of their asserting that when at the greatest distance they had gone towards the south, the sun was at noon upon their right hand as they sailed towards the west. This, he says, everybody knows is impossible, it is against the laws of nature, because it is against the experience of every one that to a person going west the sun should at noon be to the right hand side of his position. I believe the law of nature now to be the same as it was then, and a navigator at this day sailing westwards below the Cape of Good Hope would consider it a very strange phenomenon to have the sun in any other position than on his right hand at noon ; for he would be south of the tropic of Capricorn, and must necessarily have the sun to the north. I have adduced this instance to show not only that the scholar can advantageously study the history of mind and the progress of discovery in the ancient authors, but that their perusal will show him how liable the greatest minds are to sad mistakes, when, by reason of their attachment to preconceived notions of their own speculations, they reject the evidence of testimony. It was thus that Hume, and others of his school, would set up their speculative notion oG THE PLEASURES OF THE that " our own experience is the only test of reasonable belief," and thus, like Herodotus, they would, because of its novelty, make that, which was the surest evidence of the truth of a relation, the very ground of its rejection. This school of philosophers is, however, fast sinking to its proper place in public estimation, and men are more rational in distrusting their self-sufficiency, and in relinquishing their prejudices, as they behold ' the follies to which both the one and the other have led men of undoubted ability and extensive information. . . t I am convinced that to such an audience as I have the honor of addressing, it is quite unnecessary to urge the vast fund of general information upon such a variety of subjects as will be found in the books to whose perusal I have been endeavoring to induce those who would im- prove their understanding, cultivate their taste, or seek a reasonable recreation in classical pursuits. In reading them, they converse with the most polished, the most learned, the most experienced of the poets, philosophers, historians, orators, and statesmen, that the civilized world has pro- duced during several centuries. Amongst them are the mighty men who have by their powers of oratory swayed nations as they would men ; who, to effect this mighty purpose, subjected themselves to all the discipline and labor which so great a work demands. Theirs was not the rude volubility which, let off from a stump, produces a transitory effect upon the multitude. No ! it was the well-weighed expression of solid truth, sent forth to establish correct principles, and to \vin to them the sup- port of the mighty and of the weak, of the wealthy and of the poor, of the sage and of the simpleton. The object was o lay the foundations of their country's prosperity in their country's affections, and by convincing the under- standings of their fellow-men, to win their support to measures of public utility. Their productions have outlived not only monuments of marble or of brass, but they survive the wreck of those governments under which they lived, and THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 57 of others that have succeeded them. They are studied to-day as the best models for imitation. You perceive they are free from those defects which cause so many others to sink into oblivion. They have no vulgar personality, they are not pompous exhibitions of the declaimer for the purpose of winning an ephemeral applause under the pretext of public instruction. No, they are clear and forcible appeals to the understanding of their auditors, of whose respect they were certain because they proved their deference for the judgments of their assemblies, by treating them as men of understanding. Having convinced by their reasoning, they delighted by a chaste decoration. This was investing, with its more soft and beautiful covering, the solid frame that had been pro- duced, amplified sufficiently to develop the just proportions ; there was no redundance to weaken, no excrescence to deform. Feeling strongly and warmly themselves, they breathed life and vigor into what would otherwise be a form inert though beautiful. Dignified and winning in their manner, their productions addressed themselves to the hearts of their hearers, allured them to obedience, and commanded them to action. Amongst those who surround me, are several who must, whatever be their present prospects or determinations, be men to whom Georgia will look as the supporters of her rights, as the vindicators of her fame, as the leaders of her councils, as the representatives of her principles, as her protectors in our federation ; and others upon w T hom she will rely to interweave new flowers in the garland of her literature. May I say to them, that, whilst they seek even from their own Demosthenes, to learn how they may succeed like him who " Wielded at will that fierce democratic, Shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece, To Macedou and Artaxerxes 1 throne ;'' they should know his weakness, avoid his faults, and receive 58 THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. a solemn warning from his fate. Had his sole ambition been his country's good, his corpse would not have fallen disgrace- fully upon Neptune's altar. On an afternoon in the early period of the summer, a few years since, I stood upon a balcony where the country- seat of Cicero overhung an eminence. The air was soft yet bracing; Gaeta was at a little distance on my left, the blue Mediterranean rippled at a distance on the south- western border, groves of orange and of lemon trees filled a large portion of the plain which stretched below towards the shore, and their delicious perfume arose mingled with that of many other delicate odors from the gardens and the herbs. It was like the richness of his own eloquence. But where was the orator? It was through the pathways of that plain he was pursued. It was near that blue wave he descended from his litter, thence was his head borne to the cruel Anthony. Need I remind you of Fulvia's revenge ? And even in the midst of the disastrous estrangements and the cruel hatred of faction and of party contest, the very populace of Rome wept at beholding the head and the hand of their once-loved defender exhibited upon the very rostrum where they hung upon his lips. Yes, it is a . dangerous eminence ! Honesty of purpose and unbending integrity, unswerving perseverance in pre- ferring principle to popular applause, in worshipping Fabri- cian integrity rather than Plutus, or power, or office, will, if any human means can, sustain you in safety. But the temptations are great, and there are but few who resist them ; hence the victims are numerous, and the fortunate are few. Georgia has at this day at least one sweet poet, whose heart is as kind as his lines are delightful. It may be, and let us expect that it will, that other streams besides the Savannah should resound with the song. In reading Lord Lyttleton's address to Pope, you will perceive that he fancies, at the tomb of Virgil, that mighty bard to arise and com- mission him to deliver an admonition to the British poet. THE PLEASURES OF THE SCHOLAR. 59 I have stood upon the same epot, and a lovely one it is, elevated nearly over the entrance of the great grotto of Posilippo, on the headland which divides the Gulf of Naples from the waters of Baise. All the inspiration of poetry is found in the very breeze that passes over it. With a few necessary alterations, let me address, from the mighty Mantuan, that same admonition to you : "Crowned with eternal bays my ravished eyes Beheld the poet's awful form arise ; Stranger, he said, whose pious hand has paid These grateful rites to my attentive shade, When thou shalt breathe thy happy western air, Thither this message to its poets bear. If high exalted on the throne of wit, Near me and Homer you aspire to sit, Of you quite worthy, were the task to raise A lasting column to your country's praise, To sing the land, which yet alone can boast That liberty which other nations lost. Where science in the arms of peace is laid, And plants her palm beneath the olive's shade; Such was the theme for which my lyre I strung. Such was the people whose exploits I sung. Brave, yet refined, for arms and arts renown'd, With different bays by Mars and Phoebus crown'd Dauntless opposers of tyrannic sway, But pleased the State's just edicts to obey. If this advice submissive you receive, Immortal and unblamed your name shall live. Envy to black Cocytus shall retire, And howl with Furies in tormenting fire, Approving time shall consecrate your lays, And join the patriot's to the poet's praise." At the period of the confederation, Georgia was the youngest amongst her sisters. She now beholds as many States succeeding her on the catalogue as there were orig- inally united. Yet a large portion of her territory has been only lately placed in the hands of her citizens. Immense bodies of her finest soil are yet unbroken by the cultivator, her rivers are not cleared, nor is her mineral wealth explored. We know that rich veins are concealed beneath 60 THE PLEASURES UP ThE SCHOLAR. her surface, but their value is scarcely appreciated, nor can the mind yet estimate their extent. The spirit of her sons, and the wisdom of her councils, have already made her the high-road by which, not only her own products and imports will be rapidly conveyed, but by which nations and their wealth must be transported. Let it be so with her literature. Let her University be generously sustained. Let her children devote their leisure hours to polite and scientific recreation. Her riches will be developed ; the cultivation of her taste will decorate her amongst her sisters, her hidden treasures will be explored ; from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south, will she be visited, admired, and enriched by contribution. And as she rises in the scale of political and commer-cial importance, so shall she be elevated in scientific and literary fame. IT is a matter of notoriety, that during several ages a practice has prevailed, more or less generally, amongst civil- ized nations, of terminating some differences of individuals by single combat, in a manner previously arranged ; and this fight has, at times, been considered a very becoming and honorable mode of closing those altercations. Some persons have frequently endeavored to find in what cir- cumstance of the duel the quality of honor consisted, but have been baffled, sometimes by the diversity of cases, all said to be honorable ; at other times by the opposition to correct principles in those general but essential character- istics which were found in every case. I must avow, that I do not recollect a moment when I did not feel the practice to be censurable, though I do remember a time when I was under what I now believe to have been a very erroneous impression ; that engaging in such a combat was, at least, an exhibition of courage; hence I never conceived it to be honorable. And having been upon terms of intimacy with several men of powerful mind and generally correct feeling, and in vain sought to learn from them in what one or more circumstances of the practice honor consisted, I could never obtain any elucida- tion. AVas it in killing your adversary ? No ! for honor was generally satisfied without his death, and very fre- quently after the discharge of a pistol which inflicted a Avound upon public morality alone, the parties who previ- 'An address delivered before the Anti-duellinff Society of Charleston, South Caro- lina, in the year 1828. (61) 62 DUELLING. ously appeared to seek mutual destruction became fast and honorable friends. Was it in violating the law ? Was it in exposing one's self to be slain by an insolent aggressor? Was it all these united? Is honor then the result of blended revenge, violation of law, and wanton exposure of life to the weapon of an unreasonable opponent ? To this inquiry I could obtain no better answer than that reasonable and honorable men approved of the practice, and thought it necessary for preserving the decorum of society. No person can be more disposed than I am, as well from feeling as from principle, to bow with deference before the tribunal of such men. I am generally inclined to con- sider their maxims to be the dictates of the general or common sense of mankind, and since I prefer the collected experience and reasoning of the bulk of society to the results of my own weak efforts, I believe it to be the suggestion of reason, and the duty of an individual, to admit that he is not as wise as is the collective body of his fellow men. I am, therefore, prepared to view most favor- ably, and with what I call a fair partiality, any practice which the great body of reasonable and honorable men, after mature reflection, and as the expression of their judg- ment, and not of their prejudices, will say is necessary, or even useful, to preserve the order of society, and the decorum of civil intercourse. But I am distinctly of opinion, that the good sense and sober judgment of the vast ma- jority of upright and educated men are altogether opposed to the practice of duelling, as not only useless for society, but as criminal and mischievous in its results. Hence, I consider the answer which I have received to be the too hasty expression of an opinion too lightly examined, and to be founded altogether upon mistakes. As you have done me the honor of delivering your first address, you will, perhaps, excuse me for taking up the subject in a more technical manner than would be neces- sary for any future occasion. To know then the matter exactly for our consideration, DUELLING. 63 we had better look to the etymology of the name, the nature of the act, and the history of the practice, so that our view of the subject might be more accurate, and our conclusions more just. The Latin word Duellum means, as it were, bettum inter duo, or duorum bellum, "War between two persons." The nature of war is attempted injury after due notice. Thus, to constitute a duel, there must be notice given of an intended attempt to do an. injury, together with a warning to be prepared for defence ; and in this it differs from assassination or assault, of. which no previ- ous notice had been given, just as regular war differs from an unforseen predatory or piratical incursion. A duel is then a private warfare between two individuals, and is generally terminated by a battle with deadly weapons, of a determined description, at a defined time and place. In this description we must particularly notice the circumstance of its being a private warfare ; that is, undertaken by pri- vate authority, and the word duel is now, in its applica- tion, limited to the battle only. Hence the combat between David and Goliath was not a duel, but was a portion of regular, public warfare, carried on by the public authority of two nations; and a more humane mode of terminating a contest than would be the general encounter between two- numerous and brave armies. In like manner, the substitu- tion of the Horatii and Curiatii for the Roman and Sabine armies was a, humane regulation by public authority; and therefore neither of those, nor any of several similar instances with which history furnishes us, can be looked upon as a duel. The combatants were not urged forward by private feelings, nor did they act by private authority. In seeking for the origin of this practice, we may close the authors of Greece and Rome ; neither do India, Chal- dea, or Egypt assist us in our research. We are told, indeed, that it was a portion of that fine system of chiv- alry which decorated the middle ages of Europe, and the witchery of that romance which writers have generally sub- stituted for the history of that undefined period, like the DUELLING. magic of its sorcerers, bewilders the fancy, and deludes us with visions of glory and of fame. The splendor of the tournament is conjured up for the imagination, the lists are prepared, the flattering crowd presses forward to that field over which pageantry, royalty, and valor preside; the loud notes of the trumpet announce the heralds' approach ; the mounted challenger appears, and properly accompanied, courses through the inclosure, paying homage to those to whom it is due, and waits in proud defiance to confirm by his bearing that denunciation which is made in his name. His trumpet is answered ; another herald appears with the reply ; the marshals arrange the order of combat, and the opponents take their ground. Fear, hope, joy, sor- row, and exultation alternately and tumultuously seize upon the mind of the young enthusiast, the shout of victory, the feast of triumph, the rhapsody of the poet, the spell of the musician, and the fascination of the theatre blend with the sweet voices of our youth, and the scene is associated with all that excites the imagination, and affects the heart ; honor, love, fidelity, and fame, in a word, chivalry and the duel are identified. It would be natural to expect that they, who seek only to divert the mind, would rest content with this exhibi- tion ; but they who desire knowledge must ask its origin. It would, perhaps, be natural to expect that thoughtless and uninformed youth should be led away by such an exhibition ; but it becomes persons of understanding, and those having a consciousness of moral accountability, to inquire whether such a practice is reasonable and safe. Let us then trace the history and make the inquiry. The knights of those chivalric days were principally descended from the chieftains of those hordes, which, in the early period of the Christian era, spread themselves over the face of Europe. Issuing from the icy North, they locked up in their cold fetters the minds and limbs of the vSiirvivors of their opponents. Long, desperate, and with various success, was the conflict between the panegyrist of UUELLIXG. 65 "\Voden, of Thor, and of Freya, and the disciples of the Cross. As the maxims of the Gospel won upon the mind of the barbarian, you might observe frequently the strange coexistence of discordant practices, and the awkward attempts of ignorance or of imbecility, to reconcile contradictions. He who would, by the torch of history, learn the facts which explain many of the mysteries of those days, must penetrate into the caverns of Scandinavia, converse with the Runic Scald, and frequently extend his journey along the banks of the Danube, the Ister, and the Boristhenes, towards the ancient forests of Sarmatia and Scythia, into which the great forefathers of this race strayed from the vicinity of America. I shall not at present lead you through so extended a path ; we will not proceed farther than Denmark, and the discov- eries there made will give to us the origin of our chivalrous exhibition. We are informed by our antiqarians, that, amongst the ancient Suevi and Goths, there was a custom, from time immemorial, of deciding differences in a mode called cenwig, of which there were two kinds ; the one was conventional, the other judicial : the first corresponded exactly with our present duel, the other with what in England was known as trial by combat. The first was a fight by private authority, from private motives, but at an appointed time and place ; the second was a battle at a time and place, and with weapons appointed by the judges of the horde, to be fought under the direction of marshals of the field; and though, perhaps, it might appear extraordinary, in this trial by combat, which was the last resort upon the failure of testi- mony and enlightened judgment, the parties looked for the special intervention of the Deity, to manifest not only the truth of fact, but the application of law, by bestowing victory as well upon him who had right upon his side, as upon him who made a true statement ; for it often happened in the cenwig, that both parties admitted the same facts, but differed only as to the law, the application of which was to be settled by the issue of the combat. Which of us would, at this 5 66 DUELLING. day, think of taking a knotty case of law or of equity from the mooting of our legal friends and the wisdom of our courts, to be decided by the erudite discrimination of a hair- trigger? Yet, such is one of the principles upon which duelling is based. In the fourth and fifth centuries of the Christian era, we find the descendants of the first northern invaders in posses- sion and in power, in several parts of Gaul, Spain, and Italy. Whilst the Franks, from the vicinity of the Elbe, were settling down in the northern regions of Gaul, the Goths and the Burgundians occupied the more southern provinces. About the year 500, we find the Gombette law enacted by Gonebald, King of Burgundy, in which men were for the first time, in a country claiming to be civilized, commanded to refer to the duel the termination of those disputes which could not be decided by oaths and testimony. This king was an Arian, but the law was observed and enforced by his orthodox successors, and this we may look upon as the foun- dation of chivalric trial by combat. Having now obtained the royal sanction in Burgundy, and the settlers in the vicinity tracing their origin and drawing their customs from Scandinavia, being also disposed to adopt and follow the maxims and observances of their progenitors, the senseless and pernicious practice soon spread throughout the whole Gallic territory. About the close of the ninth century, the Christian missionaries had made some impression upon Denmark, and early in the succeeding age, upon the death of Svveyn, the first Danish monarch of England, and father of Canute the Great, his eldest son Harold, who succeeded him in his continental domains, being a zealous disciple of the Christian law, abolished the ancient and barbarous practice of duels, since which time the Danish government has punished, with exemplary severity, criminals who violated this prohibitory law. It is much to be regretted that the laws of Harold were not more generally adopted and acted upon by other nations; but it is matter of consolation to find that the DUELLING. G7 remedy was first applied where the malady was first exhib- ited; and that in the region where this pernicious practice emanated, the introduction of Christianity and of civilization caused its decay. Much as the mind desires to rest upon this green spot in the dreary waste, we must proceed with the history of the practice. It was not retained by the first Saxon settlers of Britain; and Canute, the Dane, shared much of the Christian sentiment of his brother Harold. Thus, although France, especially, was now the asylum of this banished offspring of the North, we find its influence scarcely felt in the neighboring regions. Even the Germans began soberly to reflect upon the folly of seeking judicial decisions at the point of the lance or by the edge of the sword, and were already convinced that it was a manifest tempting of heaven, for a puny and weak being who felt that he had right, without proof, to trust to the prowess of his arm, for its manifestation against the ruffian force and prac- ticed agility of some blustering robber, whom strength had made . bold, want had rendered desperate, and deeds of iniquity had inured to blood. Superstition is the expecting from any act supernatural effects, for attaining which, by such means, God has given no promise; thus, several persons, at that very early period, deemed it to be absurd and superstitious tempting of heaven, to engage in such conflicts for the vindication of right, because they saw that, upon no reasonable principle, could they hope for such a result, except by a miracle, which He, who alone could work a miracle, had not pledged Himself to perform. The Lombards, who had settled in Italy, regulated that those judicial battles should take place under proper inspec- tion, and the combatants were allowed to use only staves and shields; thus, although the absurd principle was retained, there was an apparent blending of humanity in their super- stition. Most of the duels of those ages were appeals to heaven to speed the right. Can you discover any principle of religion or of good sense, that could warrant such an C8 DUELLING. appeal? Do you recollect the general feeling of disapproba- tion and of horror, with which the appeal to combat by Abraham Thornton was received in England, a few years since, when, to save himself from the probability of an ignominious death, he met the appeal of the brother of her who had been murdered with the legal offer of wager ' of battle ? Suppose this unfortunate man was the seducer and the murderer of the too-confiding victim of his double brutality, in what consisted the propriety or honor 'of permitting, under the sanction of law, what his frame showed to be a natural consequence, the cruel destruction of an afflicted brother, who invoked the public justice of society upon the destroyer of a beloved sister? Reason, religion, and honor unite in the reprobation of so nefarious a mockery of law. I said that it was not used by the Anglo-Saxons, and we have seen that it was abolished in Denmark, at the time that Canute ruled over England. But, at this period, the spirit of Normandy gave its full sanction to the custom ; and when William I began to give his laws to the subjugated English, he introduced the trial by duel, according, indeed, to the Englishman, whom a Frenchman might appal, the con- tumelious privilege, if he were weak, of looking for a stronger substitute. This was its first legal establishment in that country, where the principle of the law has continued in force down to a very late period,- if not to the present day. How far in theory it might, even now, be part of the law of South Carolina, and of those other portions of our Union which have preserved the common law of England, it is not for me to say. Hitherto I have only considered that species of duel which is judicial, and which has been sometimes carried solemnly into legal effect. If any description of this com- bat could be defended upon principle, this alone could have the benefit of such defence, because it was not undertaken by private but by public authority ; it was not supposed to be entered upon him from motives of revenge, but for DUELLING. 69 the manifestation of truth, and the parties, about to engage, made their solemn appeal to heaven to defend the right ; the judges of the land and other public officers, sometimes even the monarch himself, presided, and sometimes an igno- rant, or a timid, or a negligent clergyman offered up his public prayer to heaven to speed the right, and to mani- fest the truth, thus seeking the decision of that eternal Judge who did not always give the race to the swift, or the victory to the strong, and whose providence regulated the affairs of individuals equally as of communities. I shall briefly allude to the principles upon which this judicial combat is plainly criminal in its own nature; whence it must follow, that, although the individuals who under the national sanction engaged therein, might be sometimes excusable upon the ground of ignorance, the act of the government itself was void and sinful. Indeed it would now appear to be scarcely necessary for me to detain you with an allusion, but that it might serve to elucidate other cases which we shall have to consider. It is a recognized principle of law, that no subordinate tribunal can sanction what the superior has prohibited. No authority could make superstition innocent or lawful ; and until it could be shown that God Himself authorized the appeal to be made to Him, for a decision in the mode alluded to, to make it in that mode is clearly criminal. The Jewish woman who had recourse to the waters of jealousy, for the manifestation of her innocence, performed a becoming act, because the Almighty had created this mode of appeal, and to have recourse to a divine institution for the purpose intended by its Author, is surely an act of religious homage, not a crime. But they who derived the custom of the duel from the barbarians of Dacia and of Scandinavia, did not pretend to a divine sanction for their conduct ; they only blended the superstition of the pagan with the profession of Christianity. They might have seen the evidence of their inconsistency in Deuteronomy and in the Gospels, where the precept was given and reiterated, not 70 DUELLING. to tempt the Lord their God. Superstition is a vice specially opposed to true religion, and strictly forbidden by the divine law ; hence no human tribunal, however extended its power or high its station, could give a sanction to this practice. The civil law expressly condemned those fights, and repeated censures 'of them, as well as of other like ordeals, are found in the canon law of the Church. The Popes frequently used their best exertions to have the evil extinguished, as might be seen, to omit a multitude of other documents, in the letter of Nicholas I to King Charles the Bald, of France, about the year 850, in the acts of Innocent II, about 1140, and in the same cen- tury in those of Eugenius III, Celestine III, and Alex- ander III, in whose pontificate the third Council of Lat- eran, in which about three hundred bishops sat, con- demned the practice as impious. Innocent IV, in 1252, wrote upon the subject to the clergy of France, and at the commencement of the sixteenth century, Leo X and even Julius II enacted heavy censures against duellists. "We have also similar acts of several of their successors, and a very severe decree of the Council of Trent, the nineteenth, on reformation of those which were passed in the twenty-fifth session, on the 3d of December, 1563. However the various portions of the Christian body which have with- drawn from the communion of that council and those Popes, might differ from them in doctrines of faith, I believe they unite with them in the condemnation of such combats for such a purpose, as superstitious and otherwise highly criminal, and not to be sanctioned or justified by any law or custom. I believe we should scarcely find an indi- vidual disposed to advocate judicial combats at the present day, yet they are that species of duel which is upon prin- ciple the most susceptible of defence. We now proceed to examine the other descriptions of combat, which, resting solely on the private authority of individuals, and not having been sanctioned by any sem- blance of law, are, more properly speaking, duels according DUELLIXG. 71 to our present acceptation of the word. The Scandinavian lias also this species of cenwig. Civilians and canonists have varied from each other in their distribution of the kinds, the former looking rather to the conditions, the latter more to the objects of the fight. Perhaps we shall be better able to proceed with regularity if we view both enumerations. Civilians called a duel decretory, when it was decreed or stipulated that the contest should terminate only by the death of one of the parties ; propugnating, when a combatant went to fight, not for the purpose of slaying his adversary, but of defending his honor; and satisfactory, when an injured person sought to destroy his aggressor, unless he made due compensation. Theologians placed first that to manifest truth, which is the judicial; next to which is that to terminate controversy, but this contained a new character- istic ingredient, that the parties so hate each other that death only is likely to prevent their quarrels; the third is to exhibit prowess; the fourth to avoid ignominy, nearly allied to which is that to defend honor; the sixth to prevent war. Taking the theological enumeration, we have disposed of the first, no person will attempt to justify the second, the last we may omit, because it is one which on all hands is admitted to be lawful and sometimes beneficial, and is not within the range of our definition, as it is undertaken by public authority, in. a public cause. There can be no question but the practice of private duels was greatly promoted by the wager of battle and by the tournament ; whose nature I now proceed to examine. When it was not a judicial trial for the manifestation of truth, it was of that description called for the exhibition of prowess; that is, a vain boasting of strength, agility, or pugnacious skill. The bad principle is the same, whether we behold it in two young knights who, with the eyes of the prowess, and beauty, and pride of a nation fixed upon them, seek for reputation in the lists, or in the gladiator at the ancient games, in the prize fighter of the modern ring, or in a pair of our wagoners who contend for superiority in mutual 72 LUELLIXG.' whipping. Wretched weakness of our miserable nature ! Glaring evidence of our degradation! We profess to admire benignity and its concomitant good qualities ; we place charity at the head of the catalogue of virtues ; whilst we indulge a secret gratification at beholding scenes of wanton cruelty, of bloodshed, and of death; and encourage to deeds of mere brutal prowess those whom we would venerate for the practice of the opposite virtues. To what shall we trace this singular but manifest deordination ? Whilst reason almost instinc- tively tells us that this injury of others for the gratification of our own pride, or vanity, or curiosity, is bad, we labor to create sophisms for its justification, and strive to convince ourselves that our natural convictions are mistakes. So it is that the children of Adam are led by the impetuosity of passion against the admonitions of the understanding ; and then, to silence the voice of conscience, they compel or they suborn the intellect, to appear as the advocate of that which, in its free and unsophisticated moments, it condemned. Such, my friends, is the lamentable outline which we must draw if we would sketch correctly the picture of our fallen race. As I prefer your own testimony to any abstract reasoning which I might attempt, I shall appeal to your- selves for that testimony as to the correctness of my state- ment. Whether would you admire more the man who, conscious of his prowess, sought its exhibition in the injury of his opponent; or him who, with a like consciousness, listened to the dictates of humanity, and told that challenger, whom he could crush if he would, that as there existed no necessity, so he believed there existed no justification, for doing him harm ; and hence, although his presumption would seem to call for chastisement, yet a higher authority insured his safety? Is there not here the grand distinction between the indulgence of passion and its restraint? And which is more worthy of your esteem? I will not insult you by supposing you could hesitate about the decision. The law of God, the law of right u^ason, the common sense of the world, the vast preponderating majority of DUELLING. 73 civilized men, condemn as irreligious, unreasonable, and consequently unjustifiable, the practice of duelling for the exhibition of prowess ; and hence you will often find the expression of pity or regret, sometimes even the half- suppressed sneer of ridicule, united to the acknowledgment of the existence of strength, dexterity, and animal courage of the successful combatant. It might be proper here to observe that a wide distinc- tion is to be taken between duels with deadly or dangerous weapons, or combats arising from hatred or a desire of revenge, in which serious injury is intended to the opponent ; and those exercises or trials of strength in which there is no danger of injury nor any . indulgence of bad passion. These latter are sometimes used for village relaxation and amusement, and in such as these it is perhaps good policy and wholesome discipline to engage men whose services might be required in the field of war for the benefit of their country. Yet in those trainings and trials for speed, agility, strength, and steadiness, care should be taken to guard, as much as possible, against inordinate vanity, or the harboring of unkind feelings. I am led to dwell the more upon this distinction, because frequently the benefit of such training is assumed as ground for an attempt to justify, by analogy, the duels which I have condemned ; but as I do not admit the analogy, of course I cannot be expected to allow the justifica- tion. I shall enter more largely upon this topic, also, because I have often heard it asserted that to restrain the spirit which led to duelling, was to break down the energies and to destroy the courage of the soldier. I am under the impression that the proper qualifications of a good soldier are not to be always found in the man who, for the indulgence of private passion, violates the laws of God, and of his country. There is one conclusion deeply impressed upon my mind, as well from some slight oppor- tunities for observation, as from the testimony of several whose experience was very ample, and from the nature of the case itself; that conclusion is, that he who has performed 74 DUELLING. well and conscientiously his religious and his civil duties, will make the best soldier amongst those equal to him in other respects. I shall endeavor to show you what, in my opinion, forms the ground of much error on this head, the accidental possession of courage by a profligate, and its acci- dental want in a man who is religious or orderly; but it is wrong to draw general conclusions from those accidental facts. We all know that the degrees of courage vary in different individuals. What a multitude of its gradations exist, from its exhibition in him who, with unmoved nerve and unrelaxed muscles, leads his division to the breach which vomits destruction and bristles with bayonets, to the pale, trembling coward whose soul shudders and whose knees tremble at the bare anticipation of possible danger ! And how various are its characteristics, from the manifesta- tion in the calm martyr who, with wealth, titles, and worldly honors at one side, and captivity, chains, destitution, death, and ignominy upon the other, stands unmoved in his firmly modest declaration that he cannot deny the truth of what he knows to be a fact, to its glitter in him who cheers his comrades whilst he volunteers upon the forlorn hope! The neglect of marking those several kinds and degrees, and their several combinations in different individuals, has given rise to the mistake, and led some officers to assert, that a respect for the principles of religion and the regulations of civil society tended to destroy that bold and determined char- acter so necessary for the army. This is, indeed, a seri- ous mistake. It is well known that some of the bravest officers have held those principles and regulations in the highest respect, whilst they openly condemned the practice of duels. I speak of a fact, not merely in some degree within my own knowledge, but one which has a host of testimony for its support, that some of the most religious and regularly conducted men who had recourse to the min- istry and the sacraments, were soldiers who had the esteem and affection of their officers, not only for the regularity of their conduct, but for their steady and continued hero- DUELLING. 75 ism, and protracted trials and desperate attempts. It is also unquestionably true that men of desperate bravery who had been, as it were, educated in violations of the law, contempt of religion, and trials of their courage, were found most useful against the enemy, but, like Indian allies, .when not thus employed, it required all the vigilance, agility, and power of discipline and law to keep the un- tamed desperadoes from the indulgence of their natural ferocity upon their peaceable fellow-citizens. Had those men been nurtured under the restraints of civil and religious institutions, they would have lost none of their natural prowess, and it would have been more easily turned to good account. I make the assertion from having been sat- isfied that some of these nuisances of an urmy, who had been brought under such restraints, preserved all their good qualities, and more frequently exhibited them refined and improved by what I must call their civilization, I would then say that not only is the combat for the exhibition of prowess irreligious and unreasonable, but so far from tending to the perfection of courage, or the fit- ting a man for the defence of his country, it adds nothing to the pre-existing degrees of that good quality, but, by teaching contempt for the laws of God and of society, and encouraging the indulgence of a bad passion and of self- will, it disqualifies its subject for submitting to that severe discipline and moral restraint which is the best preservative of an efficient army. When the master of poetry wrote, Ilonoratum si forte reponis Achillem Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer Jura nrget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armi*, he did not intend to give us the picture of a good and useful soldier, but of one who yielding to his gust of passion, would disobey his commander, desert his colors, and because of his private wrongs pray for the success of the enemy and the ruin of the army in which he served, and who is again brought to the field, not by a sense of public 76 LUELLIXG. duty, but roused by the workings of private friendship to seek unmeasured revenge. Such exactly is the soldier whom the principles of duelling would produce. Judge you, how long an army of such men would preserve our republic. "VVe may be told, surely, that an ignominious life is what neither reason nor religion would compel one to lead. If, during the whole period of a man's subsequent existence, he is, for the omission of an act, to be A fixed figure, lor the hand of scorn To point his slow and moving finger at, it cannot be immoral to make one effort for relief from so cruel a state of degraded endurance. Does the end then justify the means ? Are we at liberty to relieve ourselves from an unpleasant predicament, without considering the propriety of that mode by which we may be extricated ? Proclaim the maxim to the highwayman who seeks to relieve his poverty by plunder. To him it will be gratify- ing to learn that this principle is adopted by men of honor and of high standing. Whisper it to the innocent victim of another's perjury. He has languished in his dungeon, dread- ing conviction for an infamous crime, which he never con- templated; but now he learns that since we are not to consider the dishonesty of the means, but the desirableness of the end, the dagger of some friend can remove the lying accuser, and release him to freedom and to fame. You are startled at the proposal, and well you may; for never was a more atrocious and destructive principle insin- uated, than that the end justifies the means. Neither reason nor religion would require of you to lead an ignominious life; although both enjoin that you shall not use improper means to avoid that ignominy of which you are so appre- hensive. But what is this ignominy that you dread? Should you not dread the commission of crime more than any imputation ? The one is always a real and paramount evil, the other is often only imaginary and transient. He who would commit a crime, in order to avoid the mockery or DUELLING. 77 the condemnation of the multitude, is a weak and an unprin- cipled man. You cannot do evil that good may arise therefrom ; such is the great principle of sound morality and of true honor. Is he who enters into this combat, in compliance with prejudices, or the partialities of the public, or to conform to a fashion whose principle he himself con- demns, an honorable man? That you are not to do evil is an absolute principle both of reason and 'of revelation ; hence we should, in considering the absolute good or evil of the means, throw the end out of our view. I shall now merely observe that the combatant who is roused by such a motive is a true coward, who, in the conflict between the fear of ridicule and the fear of crime, yields to the former. It is said that no species of moral courage exceeds that of a man who follows the dictates of his judgment or con- science, amidst the taunts and reproaches of the world. By this sort of courage, the ancients believed their far-famed Hercules was more distinguished than by his labors or vic- tories. Certainly our divine Redeemer taught admirable les- sons upon this subject ; the principles of His Gospel are the foundation of the most heroic fortitude, the purest honor, and the most unbending courage ; in His discourses, we find lessons which exceed the perfection of the most sublime philosopher as much as heaven exceeds the earth. But since, by some extraordinary fatality, whilst it is avowed that the practice of duelling is clearly condemned by the Christian law, persons, who profess to be observers of that law, attempt to vindicate the practice, and yet declaim against the application of the Gospel maxims in examining the subject, I have determined to be very sparing of any aid from that source ; especially as, even without such aid, I trust my object is attainable. Upon what ground can he who engages in a duel, through the fear of ignominy, lay claim to courage? His act is, as we have seen, and shall still more fully see, plainly immoral, and he offends God, because he fears the censure of men. They who pos- 78 DUELLING. sess the high moral virtue of fortitude will endure the taunts and reproaches of the world, and submit willingly to torture of body and inquietude of mind, rather than act against the divine law, the law of conscience, or the just regulations of society; this is what I consider to be the true test of honor. Thus, to avoid ignominy is not a motive which would justify the performance of an unlawful action ; and no truly courageous man has ever yet fought from such a motive. Ignominy, as regards this practice, is a phantom to terrify the timid, to govern the weak, and to force cowards to assume the semblance of a virtue which they have not. Hence, it has frequently and justly been observed, that they who entered the field of single combat, to preserve their names from the post, were very inefficient comrades when armies rushed to the charge. Per- haps the following anecdote, which is given from highly respectable authority, would not lead far towards an oppo- site conclusion. At a period when duelling was not as much discounte- nanced as it ought to have been in the French army, a gentleman of very strict moral habits held a commission in a regiment, and having refused to accept an offered challenge, could not make either explanation or apology, without being guilty of the exposure of another, or of a falsehood, which he abhorred equally as he did the duel. His peculiar situ- ation did not permit his immediate compliance with several suggestions of retirement, and he had to endure the mor- tification of remarks and coldness, even at the common table, from his fellow-officers ; he was designated in their circle as " the coward." On a particular occasion, he was observed to remain long after the period at which he had latterly been accustomed to retire, and his feel- ings had been frequently and deeply wounded by the major, who had indeed seldom respected them. This officer, upon withdrawing, was quickly followed by him who had been the object of his reproach; and the company which they had left was soon summoned to an unexpected scene. DUELLING. 7& At a short distance from the house, they found the major inquiring, with anxious gratitude, to whom he owed his- life, which had been assailed in the dark by three ruf- fians, and heard him receive the calm but emphatic answer " to the coward." One of the assailants lay a corpse, one seriously wounded, and the other was a disarmed prisoner in the coward's grasp. They had rushed upon a man unable to protect himself, and had been overcome by a man who had too much courage to be a duellist. To an almost involuntary expression of surprise, the only reply was: "Major! the God whom we profess to serve has ordered me to return good for evil; my life and my exer- tions are the property of my king and the French nation. I know when I ought to be prepared to lay down or to expose that life, as well as when I ought to preserve it; and I trust I shall be always ready to do my duty, and not to be drawn from its performance, by the unmeaning taunts of persons who have no opinion of their own, but are led by the caprice of others." To a request of the officer's that he should forget what had occurred, his reply was, that he had never borne any ill-will to those' who had ill-treated him; and that during the period of his stay there was no probability of any diminution of friendship, as he was preparing to join another regiment, into which he had obtained an exchange, and the officers of which held, he believed, principles congenial to his own. This might bear the semblance of what is made in romance, but let it be remembered that those books are given as an imitation of real life, and the testimony from which this has been received was unexceptionable. Proba- bly I shall not go too far, in making the assertion, that instances of such magnanimity, fortitude, and heroism are more frequent than we are supposed to believe. Human nature, thank God ! is not so universally depraved as to debase us all, and there are to be found this day, proba- bly, brave generals who could wipe the vile phlegm from their brow, and tell the brainless simpleton that caused it, 80 DUELLING. as did a valiant man who led armies to victory : " Young man, you should suffer for your misdonduct, if I could as easily wipe your blood from my conscience, as I can your spittle from this forehead." Did his king or his army respect his head the less for that defilement? Does not his name stand higher in your estimation than if he had been the victor in a hundred duels? But you will answer me, that his character was his protection. Yes, my friends, it was, and so will it be the protection of every man who prefers the discharge of his duty to the indulgence of his passion, and who fears God, but who has no other fear. Such a man need not engage in a combat to avoid disgrace; the cloud of erroneous opinion may indeed obscure his disc, but it will be transient, and the restoration of his radiance will be more welcome. The duel for the protection of honor might be considered that to which I ought principally if not exclusively to have paid attention, since most of our modern combats are, or affect to be, of this description ; but I have preferred leaving it to the last, because an opportunity has been afforded of considering in the previous examination, espe- cially of the trial by combat to avoid disgrace, many prin- ciples which will bear with equal force upon this case. The grand distinction between this and the others is, that this appears to have less superstition and. more of what the world calls spirit. I freely concede that the plea in its favor is more specious, and the delusion which sur- rounds it is stronger. I have, therefore, reserved it for the purpose of being more fully met by the application of the general principles upon which all duels are condemned. For the reprobation of each kind, special names were ad- duced, which in each case bore upon the peculiar demerits of the particular species, nor is the reprobation of this without strong and powerful special arguments, the outline of which, only, I shall mark; and for the cause before assigned they must lose much of their strength in my prudent mode of using them, since this duel is peculiarly DUELLING. 81 condemned by the Gospel, from the aid of which, on the present occasion, I have by advice, and upon consideration, almost debarred myself. But before I enter upon those special grounds, let us consider the general topic upon which every species of duelling is found to be immoral and unlawful. Man, being a creature, is amenable to his Creator ; and it is immoral in him to violate the law of that great Self- Existent to whom he owes the homage of all his faculties and the most perfect obedience. I shall assume, as granted, that the Almighty has made known to man His -canon against self-destruction. I assume, also, that an isolated human being, however unconnected he might be with his fellows, has not, morally speaking, from the Lord of life and death, the power of putting a period to his own existence ; but must await the summons of his Judge, either by the process of His general laAV or by some special message. I assume another principle as equally clear, that no individual has a natural right to take away the life of his fellow-man. And here a question arises, the examination of which becomes extremely important, but into the discussion of which I shall not now enter at any length. Whence is derived the right which States possess to punish malefactors by death ? "NY hence the right to slay in war, and whence the right of individuals to slay an unjust aggressor ? I answer : From Him who alone has the power to make the grant; from the Creator. Man not being, therefore, master of his own life, could not bestow what was not under his dominion, he could not give to society, nor to its government, nor to an individual, a title which did not exist in himself. Where distinct history and plain reason concur in exhibiting facts to us, it would be palpable folly on our part to resort to speculation and conjecture, to seek for the knowledge taught to us by this better mode. It is a fact that God has left to society the power or the right of regulating its various forms of civil government accommodated to its various cir- cumstances. But upon every regular government, thus created 82 DUELLING. or accepted by the people, He bestows the powers necessary for the well-being of society, and amongst others that of punishing malefactors even capitally, that of repelling enemies even by the infliction of death, and of carrying war for just cause into their territories ; also, in cases of extreme neces- sity, where no other mode of preserving his own safety is- left to an individual, God and the government bestow upon him the right of guarding his own life by taking that of an unjust aggressor, but it is bestowed only in that extreme case, and under the double responsibility of him who uses- it to the tribunal of his country and the tribunal of his God. The evidence in support of these facts is plain and ample ; but it is one of our misfortunes that we too often desert the solid ground of fact to amuse ourselves in a spec- ulation which we miscall philosophy. Governments thus vested with power by God and by the people, by the Creator and by the creature, have regulated the great principles of social order by the light of reason, perhaps aided by the revelation of Him from whom reason emanates. One of their first principles is, that the unsettled differences of individuals shall be adjusted, not by the passions of the disputants or their friends, but by the tri- bunals of the nation. Were the power of inflicting death for offences taken from the impartial tribunals and vested in the interested individuals, what a scene of desolation would this world of ours present ! How would injury excite revenge, and revenge produce retaliation ! The sweet charities of life would be driven from our solace, and ruffian violence would stalk forth crushing as he proceeded in his horrid triumph. Where should we find the abode of virtue, the asylum of innocence, the safeguard of youth, or the pro- tection of age? Is the duellist to be their, bulwark? Or shall the unblushing transgressor of the first principle of social order presume to offer his offensive and unholy aid to sustain the sanctions of that law whose very sanctity he has disregarded? He has hurled down the judge, profaned the bench, insulted the legislature, usurped the high prerogative DUELLING. 83 of heaven, and stood in open conflict with the Eternal ; and this unprincipled man, with honor on his lips and trans- gression in his acts, dares to say that in the indulgence of the malignant spirit of his revenge is to be found the salvation of good order! No! If we were to reduce this principle to practice, every man would stand armed against his brother, and in one century the generation of Adam would be extinguished by the fall of the last murderer upon the decaying limbs of his last victim, whilst the good angels would look down with horror and pity upon that spot over which demons exulted. The providence of heaven, to pre- vent this evil, has decreed that in the wildest horde which roves through our forests there should exist some semblance of a tribunal by which human life is saved from the malignity of human passion. Man, then, has not power over his own life. Society does not derive from individuals its power of taking away life. Although no injury should result to others from the death of an isolated man ; still he will be himself a criminal if he procures it; nor has he a right to concede to another what is not permitted to himself, much less is he justified in depriving another human being of life ; neither can he plead that he did it with the consent of him whom he slew. Such consent is a mockery ; it is a grant of what could not be given ; it is the assumption of what could not be taken ; it is an immoral, an irreligious usurpation of the prerogative of the Deity, who is the sole arbiter of life and death. What then shall we say of those who add to this crime the horrors of multiplied injustice and the laceration of feelings ; who inflict protracted and unutterable agony upon an innocent and impoverished family? Unfortunate delinquent! do you not see by how many links your victim was bound to a multitude of others? Does his vain and idle resignation of his title to life absolve you from the enormous claims which society has upon you for his services, his family for that support of which you have robbed them, without your own enrichment ; his tottering parents for their consolation, DUELLING. perhaps for the supply of their wants, and the helpless and indigent for that bread by which he sustained them? Who will give professions to his sons, who will cherish and protect his daughters? Was it honorable to plot in secret, and to perpetrate by stealth, the foul deed which has torn with so rude a shock the aifections of the wife of Ids bosom and children of his heart ? Go stand over that body ; call back that soul which you have driven from its tenement ; take up that hand which your pride refused to touch not one hour ago. You have in your pride and wrath usurped one prerogative of God. You have inflicted death. At least, in mercy, attempt the exercise of another; breathe into those distended nostrils, let your brother be once more a living soul. Merciful Father, how powerless are we for good, but how mighty for evil. Wretched man ! he does not answer ; he cannot rise. All your efforts to make him breathe are vain ; his soul is already in the presence of your common Creator ; like the \vretched Cain will you answer to the inquiring voice, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Why do you turn away from the contemplation of your own honor- able work? Yes, go as far as you will, still the admonition will ring in your ears, it was by your hand he fell ; the horrid instrument of death is still in that hand, and the stain of blood upon your soul. Fly, if you will, go to that house which you have filled with desolation. It is the shriek of his widow, they are the cries of his orphans, there are the broken sobs of his parent, and amidst the wailing of his family you distinctly hear the voice of imprecation on your own guilty head. Will your honorable feeling be content with this ? Have you now had abundant and gen- tlemanly satisfaction ? Or have you, too, received your death-wound, and what must be the agony which you endure at beholding now, forlorn, destitute, and overwhelmed, her to whom you swore protection, fidelity, love ; who is to watch over those lovely babes from whom you turn your aching eye. Oil ! what must be the feeling when a father cannot look with complacence upon his child ! You love DUELLING. 85 them ; indeed you do, and all the affection of a parent rushes in accelerating fever through your frame and sustains life a little longer. But it throbs at your sinking heart and bewilders your tortured soul ; the agonies of one world and the horrors of another surround your bed of death, whilst the unsatisfied ghost of your opponent hovers above, shrieking the dismal summons to the bar of an insulted God. My friends, I paint no imaginary scene ; but I shall not detain you in the chamber of horrors ; let us depart from it to inquire into the nature of that honor, the mistakes concerning which produce such lamentable effects. Honor is the acquisition and preservation of the dignity of our nature ; that dignity consists in its perfection ; that perfection is found in observing the laws of our Creator ; the laws of the Creator are the dictates of reason and of religion ; that is, the observance of what He teaches us by the natural light of our own minds, . and by the special revelation of His will manifestly given. They both concur in teaching us, that individuals have not the dominion of their own lives, otherwise no suicide would be. a criminal. They concur in teaching us that we ought to be amenable to the laws of the society of which we are members, other- wise morality and honor would be consistent with the violation of law and the disturbance of the social system. They teach us that society cannot continue to exist, where the public tribunals arc despised or undervalued, and the redress of injuries withdrawn from the calm regulation of public justice, for the purpose of being committed to the caprice of private passion and the execution of individual ill-will. Therefore, the man of honor abides by the law of God, reveres the statutes of his country, and is respect- ful and amenable to its authorities. Such, my frienc 7 s, is what the reflecting portion of mankind has always thought upon the subject of honor. This was the honor of the Greek this was the honor of the Roman this the honor of the Jew this the honor of the Gentile this, too, was the honor of the Christian, until the superstition and bar- 86 DUELLING. barity cf Northern devastators darkened his glory and degraded his character. Is not the pride of the American the predominance of the law ? Is not law itself the emanation of the public will, and is not submission to the public will the first principle of genuine republicanism? Are our governments so weak or so corrupt as to be unable to protect us, so that we must be thrown upon our individual and private resources, instead of looking to the power of the social compact and the guardianship of the social head? Shall we proclaim to the world, that we in South Carolina are brought back to such a state of dereliction that our public tribunals, the institutions of the country, the government itself cannot protect us from insult, and that we are thus reduced to the necessity of trusting to ourselves? Let not such a libel be handed over to the defaming press of Europe by an ungrateful progeny; let it not be said that none are safe from insult in republics, except they have been well trained to the use of the pistol or the rifle, or the dexterity of gouging ! Are those the emblems of honor? But why place the ruffian who plucks out your eye upon the same level with the gentleman who uses a pistol ? I acknowledge my error ; I ought not ; because the one deprives you of life, and perhaps of heaven, whilst the other only leaves you sightless. Still, though the injury is greater, the barbarity is not equal ; there is more refinement in one than in the other, but there is also more criminality; there is more apparent delicacy in the mode of violating the law, but the substantial violation is more enormous ; the crim- inal, in the one case, has fashionable fellow culprits in the other, he has the more recent impulse of strong passion. It is not for us to strike the ratio of their culpability ; their Judge and ours He who has forbidden murder, and also declared that whosoever would call his brother " thou fool," should be guilty of hell fire, will apportion their destiny. My present inquiry regards only the honor of the transaction, and I can measure out to the duellist merely DUELLING. 87 us much of that excellent quality as is consistent with the violation of his duty as a rational being, as a religious being, as a member of society, and as the citizen of a State whose laws describe the offence as a felony. Patriot- ism, social order, religion, and reason, then, forbid me to designate as honorable this bad practice, which criminal fashion has too frequently promoted and encouraged. Being therefore evil in its own nature, it cannot be a proper jnode for the protection of honor. My friends, in what does this protection of honor con- sist? Ii) affording to its assailant the opportunity of destroy- ing your life, certainly at the risk of his own. What would you think of the wisdom and equity of that judge who should sentence a peaceable citizen, that had been assaulted, to suffer the same punishment as his convicted assailant? If you challenge the aggressor to fight, do you not inflict, upon your innocent and injured self, the same punishment as upon the offender? Admirable wisdom! But why do I seek for any semblance of reason, in what its own advocates avow to be defenceless, upon the principles of reason? They only attempt its palliation upon the plea of expediency. They tell us that the dread of the pistol pre- serves the decorum of society. Are we so fallen or > beneficial effects, without vainly exhibiting its agency; whilst we, who have lived only in polished or civilized society, view those very effects as the results of unaided nature ; just as those Eastern beings, who have never gone beyond the precincts of their own palaces and gardens, and upon whose presence even the cultivator or the artist must not intrude, can form no idea of what aspect the uncultivated mountains would present; nor of the labor and industry that have been expended to produce those scenes with which they have always been familiar, and which they regard as- being natural. It might be then inquired whether there exists any merely speculative science, that is, any which is not applicable to the common purposes of life. I am inclined to believe that there does not. My conclusion is founded upon a view of particulars, and in this view I think that I embrace all necessary to make the enumeration perfect. Let us chiefly take up what arc usually designated as the learned professions. Law should be considered under its twofold aspect, leg- islation, or the creation of appropriate rules of conduct,, together with their sanction ; and judgment, or the applica- tion of those laws, as well by the enforcement of the rule as by the punishment of the offender. Here life, liberty, property, public peace, private security, and a great variety of the principal concerns of man in his earthly career are deeply and perpetually implicated. Besides that severe mental discipline and habitual restraint which arise from a good education and a regular exercise of the superior faculties, a nice power of discrimination, extensive acquaint- ance with ancient legal enactments of the several civilized nations, the circumstances which called them into existence, their mode of operation, the knowledge of how far they proved remedial or useful, by what means they degenerated or became injurious, perverted, or abused, will be at least highly desirable ; to which should be added, familiarity with their history, as also the intimate observation of the actual 96 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. .state of society, and generally of the human character. It must be confessed that here there is much of what is usually called practical rather than speculative science. But to con- verse beneficially with the ancient legislators and moralists, we must speak their language. It is true, that an interpreter might be employed; but which of us would feel himself justified, under the pretext of having a translator, and saving more time to study facts in preference to words, by neglect- ing the study of those languages which had during centuries been used in the republic of letters, to restrict his intercourse with the most distinguished citizens of the civilized world? But if we give the principle to which I here allude its full play, we shall not have left to us even the interpreter himself; since if the acquisition of languages be a waste of time, no person should be encouraged to extravagance. Whatever my respect might be for gentlemen who think differently, I am clearly of opinion that a perfect knowledge of the ancient languages is required for the study of ancient documents and of ancient history, and that such learning is far from being unnecessary for an accomplished legislator. It is to him the experience of several ages. It is not unfrequently urged against this position that we have seen in these republics many instances of great men who have well discharged their duty without these aids. I do not question the truth of the assertion ; but my inference would be that they would have done better had they been .so aided. It is added that men of this description have, in some instances, outstripped those of classical attainments. I would only reply, that with the help of those attainments, .they would have gone farther. I am equally far from sup- posing that what is useful is all-sufficient, as I am from imagining that every rule is without an exception, or that a prodigy is an ordinary production. As well might it be argued, that the improvements which produce speed and comfort in our packets are useless, because our rivers and our seas were passed before their introduction. I have arrived then at the conclusion, that for the legislator the CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 57 perusal of ancient documents is extremely valuable; and that as they can be best understood in their original phrase- ology, the study of the languages in which they are written is not, for him, a mere speculative engagement, but a useful portion of practical literature. The judicial application of the law requires all the critical qualifications of the legislator in a more perfect degree, because, for this purpose, the object and meaning of the statute or custom must be perfectly comprehended : not only must its principles be appreciated, but the fair excep- tions should be known with equal accuracy as the rule itself: the judge should be familiar with the great maxims of evidence, by whose aid facts will be clearly developed and placed in their proper and precise station, for the purpose of learning how far they come under the operation of the enactment. Xor can the jurist who is to arrange and bring his case under the observation of the court be less able to make that disposition of his materials without serious injury to the client, who, relying upon his capacity, has placed his interests in his hands. How much, then, of what is thought- lessly called speculative learning, is of absolute practical necessity to the sages of the bench and the members of the bar? He who will make ancient language and ancient history his study, and will look patiently to their mutual aid for their mutual explanation, will discover treasures of ancient lore, which the half-informed pronounce, hastily, to be barbarism, because in a different state of society from that to which we are accustomed they aptly provided for the public weal, by remedies which would be equally unsuited to our circumstances as our regulations would be inappli- cable to the customs of that age. Their laws and ours, like tho coin of different nations, bear different devices and unlike inscriptions, but each is plate or bullion ; and he who pos- se, scs both is richer than is the one who in fastidious self- sufficiency flings either away. Certainly, he who could acquire coin of only one description would act prudently in prefer- ring that which is current where he sojourns : and if the 7 98 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. contracted mind or the curtailed opportunities of a profes- sional man compelled him to be satisfied with only an alternative, the language which is now used, and the laws now in force, demand his preference ; but if his leisure and opportunities will allow him to extend his studies, the added wealth of ancient times will better qualify him for enacting, for expounding, and for applying the provisions of the law to the circumstances by which he is surrounded. Let us view the requisite qualifications for a useful member of the medical faculty, or for an accomplished and scientific surgeon. Besides that power of acute perception with which, as a kind of instinct, a man might be specially gifted, so as almost intuitively to detect the seat, the nature, and the extent of a disease, it is highly desirable that the mind should have been so disciplined as to avoid the hasty conclusions to which* an overweening and too confident self- sufficiency would rush. The general and usual diagnostics are greatly modified by the habits of the individual, by the influence of climate, by the period of life, by the previous treatment, and by a number of other peculiarities which vary to an indefinite extent. If the truth of the admonition, festina lente, can be more usefully practical in any one case than another, it is here. Genius, decision, and action quick as thought can often do much for life and health ; but, unfortunately, they may also, by one mistake, fix the irrevo- cable doom of the patient. It is not by the knowledge of the names of diseases and of their usual stages ; it is not by the repetition of the vocabulary of a dispensary, and an acquaintance with some of the chief properties of drugs ; it is not from the hasty, wanton mangling of a decaying subject, and possessing a general notion of the uses of bones, muscles, and vessels, that correct and useful medical skill is acquired. No; it is by the laborious investigation of a clear, calm, and cautious mind. No reading can supply the want of judgment, but no power of judgment Avill avail much without facts upon which its decisions may be formed. An original and distinct perception united to deliberate CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 99 reflection and steady habit of observation form the best foundation for useful healing knowledge; and every mode, by which these faculties can be improved, is an important branch of previous education. I would here ask whether, generally speaking, the mind is prepared to receive the seeds of science by what is usually known as ordinary school discipline. I know not much the opinion of others, but I have formed my own. I would unhesitatingly say, No ! And my impression is that it would be just as reasonable for the planter to expect a superior crop from an unprepared soil as it would be to look for medical or surgical proficiency from the attendance upon lectures by a half-educated youth, let his abilities be what they may. Whoever, either from his own experience or the testimony of others, is acquainted with the progress of knowledge amongst students, must at once concede that even the best-prepared tyro in science will lose at the com- mencement far more than is usually supposed, from the mere inability of an untrained mind to comprehend the views or to keep pace with the strides of an experienced proficient. "We are the creatures of individual habit; no speculative observation will supply the place of training ; it will certainly do much to improve the observer; but it will never, even in a moderately remote degree, be equally bene- ficial. It is true, you may sometimes meet with apparent exceptions to this rule, but I apprehend, that upon examina- tion they will not be found such in reality. As there are men of great natural strength of body, of well-regulated courage and extraordinary agility, who will always be an overmatch for the best-trained individuals of puny frame and nervous debility; so in the literary world, there are those to whom God has given great mental energy, but to which power man has added little cultivation ; such persons will always surpass these others, upon whom great human labor has been comparatively lost, because the Creator has with- held the necessary share of capacity. I need not, with you, dwell upon the impropriety of raising a sophism upon this 100 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. fact. I believe you will agree with me, that they whom this delusion could influence are not of the race of intel- lectual giants. Yet, in a community like ours, where there exists a general ambition to obtain the honors and emolu- ments of the learned professions in the shortest possible time, with the least possible expenditure, and only that quantity of exertion which will barely suffice, there must always be a disposition to dispense, as far as possible, with extensive preparatory education. When we add to this, that self-love which, in every individual, creates partiality and great esteem for l\imself, and for all his connections ; and take into account a propensity to draw conclusions rather from possibilities and the imaginary fitness of things, than from observation and fact, we need not be surprised at the prevalent disposition to dispense with altogether, or greatly to curtail, those preliminary modes of mental exercise which discipline the understanding and regulate the judgment ; we need not be astonished, that, by several persons, the information which I would call practically useful will be denominated speculative. Under this head, I would class especially, mathematical, arithmetical, and metaphysical rea- soning. The mind, thus prepared, will be more powerful, more attentive, more patient, more discriminating, and more expert. The attendance upon a single course of scientific lectures, by a person thus prepared, will generally be far more beneficial than the same course thrice attended by the same person, without this previous exercise. Medicine is a more extensive school than that of law. Every observation which I have made regarding the utility of the dead languages to the lawyer, will apply with at least equal force in this school. It is in those languages that one will best converse with the great fathers of the science ; it is in those peculiar idioms, of which no translation can convey the spirit which yet dwells in the original, that the very soul of the master is discovered. The structure and organization of the human frame is everywhere the same ; and the science of healing its diseases is one of universal CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 101 interest. Wherever the victim of the original malediction is found, whether at the equator or near the pole, in China, in California, upon the Mississippi, the Ganges, the Danube, or the Nile; in the monarch's palace, or in the Arab's tent; whether he discourses in the halls of the academy or encoun- ters the lion or the panther in the recesses of the forest, or under the open canopy of heaven ; whatever be the tinge of his complexion, or the quality and form of his vesture he is equally a child of Adam, and not only bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh, but moreover liable to all those disorders which that flesh is heir to. The necessity of studying and remedying or alleviating those disorders is, and has always been, and will always continue to be, a universal and an important concern. The subject of those disorders being, then, everywhere the same, and the attention of so many persons of various nations and ages having been given to the improvement of the science of healing, nothing can be more beneficial, or desirable, or proper, than that the good meu so employed should possess the faculty of communicating, with ease and precision, to their brethren throughout the world, the useful discoveries which they make ; and thus rapidly give to each individual of the fraternity the benefit derived from the experience of the whole body. This can only be continued, as it has hereto- fore been effected, by the preservation of a common language, the meaning of whose terms is not liable to change, and which is more or less prevalent throughout the regions of science and civilization, all over the universe. In this view, I fearlessly assert, that an accurate and extensive knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, so far from being speculative or unnecessary literature, is essential for the preservation and perfection of medical knowledge and surgery. Allow me to add one other observation. The names of drugs, of Chemical, mineral, and botanical productions, of which such extensive use is made, are, I may say, altogether in those languages, and certainly the vernacular appellations of substances in one region would be unintelligible in 102 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. another ; and whosoever would profit by foreign research, or turn the discovery of another to account, must be at least acquainted with the tongue in which he speaks. The acqui- sition by all, then, of a few common languages, so far from being a useless waste of time and labor, is to the physician the saving of both ; because it relieves him from the neces- sity of , acquiring several new dialects, that he may converse with men of science ; or, in case of neglect, he cannot profit by their labors, he must have his knowledge greatly abridged, he must be dependent upon his own experience and that of the comparatively small number by whom he is sur- rounded. In fact, the want of such a medium of scientific intercourse would be equivalent to a professional exclusion of each nation from the remainder of the universe. And what would now add to this evil, is the fact that the present nomenclature is, to those who are critically acquainted with the languages, an extremely well-regulated mode of instantly and exactly bringing several useful and important facts, regarding the nature of diseases and remedies, before the mind, with the lightest possible tax upon the memory. Thus, to the physician, the labor of a few years in child- hood is, in fact, the economy of a large portion of his after life, and the greatest aid to his accuracy in practice. For him. a large portion of what is hastily called speculation is the basis of truly practical knowledge. My own peculiar situation, as well as the state of our religious society, preclude details regarding the science of theology. I shall merely observe that nearly all the prin- ciples that have been applied respecting the two professions which I have reviewed, are equally of force here. I shall make but a single statement regarding that science in the Church to which I belong; and in doing so, I would not be understood to insinuate any contrast to any other society, but merely to testify a fact for the purpose of sustaining the conclusion which I am anxious to support In our view, the science of theology docs not, in the whole system of revealed religion, recognize a single speculative opinion, CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 103 but views the entire as a collection of facts, whose truth is to be ascertained by the most strict application of the ordinary rules of evidence. Supposing them to have been thus demonstrated, it considers every one of them to have an important bearing, not only upon the moral conduct of man in this transitory world, but upon his happiness or misery in that which is eternal. Thus we assume that in what is called speculative or dogmatical theology there does not exisist one merely speculative opinion. The Church itself is considered as a numerous society, whose discipline is law, one portion of which is a constitution that is con- sidered permanent and unchangeable, another portion consists of statutes enacted by the universal legislature for the universal body, or by the local authorities for their particular districts. The enactment, repeal, amendment, and application of those laws must be governed by the same principles that regulate all other descriptions of correct legislation and judg- ment. However, upon this topic I do not wish to proceed farther, nor indeed is it necessary for my present purpose ; I only desired to show that in each of the learned professions the usual classical education was an exceedingly useful preparation for the professional study itself; and I believe that I have made a sufficiently extensive enumeration, with observations calculated to show that, in preparing for the learned professions at least, what is too generally pronounced to be speculative literature is but the proper foundation for that which is truly practical. I do not undertake to defend the abuses of the schools or of systems, nor to deny that there did exist a very injudi- cious mode of what was called "sharpening the mind," by habituating it to distinguish when there existed no ground for distinction ; to affect doubt, where not only was common sense satisfied, but one would scarcely find room to thrust the other ingredients of a syllogism between the plain maxim and the palpable conclusion : neither will I make common cause with those superlatively ingenious disputants who demanded, for maxims, proof beyond the universal 104 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. testimony of common sense; and who would set up the assumed possibility of a doubt as of sufficient weight to- counterbalance an ascertained fact. It is true that, at a former period, the schools of Europe trained up many of their students in an excess of this mode of exercise ; it is true that the technical phraseology which they used wa& harsh and barbarous. But it is equally true, though perhaps it is unfashionable to make the statement, that many of the persons who in those days had to contend with disadvantages, which we might imperfectly describe but can never feel, have left us the evidence of the prowess which was then in existence. This is not the place, nor this the occasion, to say how many of the productions of those times Have perished, like the glories of ancient Egypt, leaving but a few heavy pyramids and some splendid ruins to testify, amidst the lasting desolation, that before the day of wreck there was an age of genius. During centuries, the way to the temple of literature has been through the halls of the ancients, and the languages of the republic of science have been .principally the Greek and Roman; especially and more generally the latter. They who have been eminent in these great departments of knowl- edge, were made familiar with these tongues by their early and assiduous conversation amongst the classic authors. As it has sometimes happened that a nation has been assailed with the arms furnished from her own arsenal, so has the study of the classics been chiefly, and most for- midably and adroitly, decried by men whose minds were amply furnished from these extensive and varied stores. We have occasionally, it is true, beheld some gigantic warrior, careless of discipline, untutored in tactics, and despising evolutions, rush boldly into the fight and spread destruction and terror for a time ; the contusions of his uncouth mace gave to the carcasses of his victims an appearance even more horrid than that of death; but when the first emotions subsided, and his manner was observed, how easily was he overcome ! The transient success which CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 105 he obtained was the result of the mighty force, with which he had been originally gifted, and the unusual mode in, which he made his assault; but had he added to his natural prowess the advantages of discipline, how much more formidable would he have been ! The war-cry of such a combatant excited attention ; an unusual interest was felt on his behalf; in his own person, he for a time seemed to furnish a practical illustration of the soundness of his cause. Yet, I would ask, to what are we to attribute that suggestion which is continually urging the observer to make considerable allowance in favor of such men because of their want of regular education, if it be not a universal concession that the mind thereby prepared is made therefore superior? For why should anything be conceded because of the neglect of classical education, if the want of that disciplinary course be not a manifest disadvantage ? The principal objection of those who would discontinue the study of the ancient classics is the alleged waste of time. They thus assume the very point at issue that the time is wasted. They attempt to prove the waste by the new assumption that no advantage is derived from the study. I have endeavored to show that the advantages were very great indeed. Conceding them to be great, they assert that the time and the means consumed are beyond .the value of the acquisition. To sustain this position, they assume that, during the whole period in which the study of those authors is continued, the students have little or no other occupation. Such, however, is not the fact. This is not the place to enter into details, but it will easily be perceived that in a well-regulated course, though the classics appear to be the principal, because of the prominent objects,, yet there are a multitude of others which, as an aggregate,, equal, if they do not exceed, the quantity that occupies the foreground. It is stated that the time given to this useless occupation would be better devoted to more practical studies, which are omitted on its account. I apprehend the argument would be found quite defective if it were required to specify, 106 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. on one side, what the more practical omitted studies are ; and then the occupations of a judiciously arranged course of education were exhibited in contrast ; for not only would the object of these particular studies be found not omitted, but it would be seen that their perfect attainment was facilitated by the very means which were said to impede their acquisition. . Objections have frequently been made to the works used in the acquirement of those languages. They are said to be calculated to pervert the judgment, to delude and corrupt the imagination, and to taint the heart ; perhaps I would be more accurate in saying that the allegation is, they tend to confirm its depravity. Were either of these statements sus- tained by evidence, I trust our society would be one of the last to encourage the destruction of the mental powers, or to ruin the eternal prospects of the children of Carolina ; and if the classic authors usually read in schools were fitted to ends so mischievous, we would, indeed, be criminal in the highest degree by continuing or by encouraging their use. But let us not too hastily decide. I know it is fashionable to decry almost the whole body of those men whom the civilized world, during ages, has regarded as learned. Men who have never read a page of their works have passed judgment upon them; persons who een transmitted be ever so valuable. Add to this con- sideration, the brevity of life, the variety of avocations, the allurements of pleasure, the duties of religion, the demands of family, the wants of ourselves and of our connections, the claims of the unfortunate, the concerns of the State, the faction of parties, and the vast multitude of other embar- rassments ; and what then becomes of the fine visions of philosophical accumulation and man's perfectibility? The realities of life correct the delusions of the sophist. The portion, therefore, which any individual is able to contribute to the general fund, must be exceedingly small; exceptions will be noticed, and are admitted. But if we have our eyes drawn to the admiration of Plato, of Ptolemy, of Copernicus, of Galileo, of Columbus, of Newton, of Bacon, of Locke, of DCS Cartes, of Leibnitz, and so many others, how many myriads have passed away from whom no contribution has been received? It is this poverty of CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 129 individuals that renders association useful, ' because from the difference of tastes there will arise a diversity of pursuits, and mutual exhibition of knowledge will create mutual con- fidence ; each can easily judge how far he might with pru- dence and safety use the production of his associate, and each will be urged to greater exertions by the example which encourages and the emulation which provokes. Thus the very difficulties which would seem to impede us, should l)ut animate us to proceed. An additional motive will be found in contemplating the extensive opportunities which offer of increasing our advan- tages by a communion with similar societies, of which so many are found in the several States of our own Union, not to mention those of other regions of the civilized world. "What, then, should be our object? In the first place, we must perceive how useful it would be to collect and to embody admitted principles concerning whose truth there is no longer any question ; as they have the testimony of ages and nations, after deep and continued reflection : to these might be added those facts whose truth is proved by the same testimony, whether they appertain to history, to geography, to geology, to astronomy, to physi- ology, or to whatever class of science they may belong. Like the demonstrations of mathematics, they should be sustained by their appropriate evidence, so that, as the student is made acquainted with the fact, he should also receive its proof. How immense has been the loss sus- tained by the neglect of this simple and natural precaution! It too frequently happens that when we are ourselves con- vinced, we imagine that no one will be so absurd as to deny that to be true, to which we have given our assent; and we forget that, by our sloth, we have left others with- out the means that produced our own conviction. AVere I asked, what I consider to have been the most efficient cause of dispute in the world, I would probably assign this disposition, which results from a combination of pride and sloth, causing us to feel a dissent from our views as an 130 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. insult, whilst from others we require assent without fur- nishing the evidence that would command it. Through want of this, it sometimes happens that fact and fable are, for a while, not distinguishable, and a man of prudence will avoid relying upon that statement of whose truth he has no certainty; the certainty must arise from a proof that is not furnished : upon what ground shall he rest ? It is not then sufficient that we leave facts upon record ; we should moreover leave record of their proof. But of what description are these facts, whose knowledge it is so important to preserve ? I answer : of every descrip- tion. It is a serious mistake to imagine that nothing is useful for the purposes of philosophy, unless it has some extraordinary character, is out of the common range of objects, has been procured from some foreign region, or bears some name of learned length and thundering sound. The proper object of the philosopher, as I stated, is to> ascertain truth for useful purposes. Now, the objects which are commonly met with are those most extensively applica- ble to our benefit, and of course, upon the principle which I have assumed, an accurate and comprehensive knowledge of their properties would be extremely advantageous. The wants and avarice of mankind have excited, during many ages, to industry in this department, and perhaps in this the discoveries have been most extensive and accurate. Yet, even here, our daily experience, and the history of other societies, exhibit the vast improvements of every year. The academies of Europe, especially those of France, of Italy, of Germany, and of England, are continually adding much to the stock of science in this department. The analysis and application of the most ordinary materials and productions are still in a march of uninterrupted progress ; the arts have been wonderfully improved, facilities and comforts extensively increased, and the resources of man greatly enlarged by the scarcely perceptible labors of individuals, who, in the several societies and in mechanical occupations, guided by the principles daily imparted and the facts almost CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 131 hourly communicated, add some little to the accumulation already made. We do not indeed at present meet one of our exploring associates returning with the evidence that a new continent has been discovered; seldom do we observe a thick vapor to rest upon the troubled ocean, and find upon its thinning away that a new island has arisen; but this incessant addition, by a multitude of individuals, gives to us a more permanent though less showy acquisition in those rising and numerous masses of coral which afford room for secure and solid habitation. They are conquests made by untiring industry from the barren waste of the deep, they are lasting acquirements of new possession, monitions to activity, additions to wealth, and room for population. There are indeed a variety of facts in what are called the higher departments of science, which are also occasion- ally developed; and perhaps in no period of some cen- turies at any previous time, have more facts been brought to light regarding the component parts of this our globe and their properties than within the last fifty years. Within that period also, man has extended his researches far into the regions of the air, and discovered new worlds by the aid of optical mechanism. How wonderfully has the dominion of the chemist been extended, and what power does he exercise through the vast regions made subject to his sway! How fallen, how imbecile, is the once dreaded magician at his feet ! We are unable to enumerate the immense quantity of improvements effected in the useful arts by the application of those discoveries. How have the powers of man been increased within that period by the combinations of machinery ! And as the events that would have been formerly spread over ages, appear crowded into that petty space; so, too, by our recent discoveries, distance, like time, has been subdued by the moral approximation of remote regions through means of steam and rail. 1 He who fifty 'Space has been still more astonishingly annihilated since Bishop England's day, by the invention of the telegraph; and we are only in the beginnings of the wonders of electricity. 132 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. years ago should have ventured to predict these occurrences, would be considered more visionary than he who would presume to describe the mountains and valleys of Saturn's ring. Who can undertake to say what another half cen- tury will unfold ? lie alone whose eye takes in, at every moment, all time and space. To us, the events of the past should be incitements to continued exertion ; and though, perhaps, no one of us could devote any considerable por- tion of his time or of his talent to our common object, yet each, by keeping in view what we seek to attain, may be in some way useful. Amongst those facts which are specially important to be well known and fully established, are those of natural his- tory ; and nothing can so powerfully contribute to this as the possession, the preservation, and the extension of a well-regulated museum. In it the lessons which would be tediously and imperfectly taught by mere recitation and description, are instantly communicated by a glance, they are impressed upon the memory by the gratification of curi- osity, they are scientifically classed by the arrangement of rooms and cases. Thus, the mere upholding of such a department in proper order, with occasional public explana- tion, would be an extensive benefit, not only to our society, but to the citizens, especially to the youth. I shall not dwell here upon that commerce, as I might call it, in sci- ence, which consists in an interchange of natural produc- tions of the various regions, by the several scientific socie- ties ; for the encouragement of which there appears to be amongst them all an increasing disposition. I am convinced that, upon proper application, every facility would be afforded by our general government for such interchange ; and I trust that, whatever our political differences may be, we should find no disposition to nullify this regulation of com- merce, or to destroy this species of protection. We might at least innocently, if not usefully, commence by prepara- tion the manufacture of some of our native products, and be allowed a free trade with all similar societies, for cor- CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 133 responding returns, not only without the grievance of a tariff' upon their importation, but even with the bounty of a free freight in our public vessels. Some of our Medi- terranean squadron would probably feel no inconvenience in exchanging a few harmless wild-cats or peaceable panthers, for casts of antique vases or of exquisite statues, or for some of the utensils of Pompeii or of Herculaneum. When the body is torpid for want of exercise the hu- mors become sluggish or stagnate, and disease ensues ; if there be excitement it is feverish, and the consequent restlessness irritates and increases the disorder. So it is with the human mind, if it have not some wholesome employment, it becomes sickly, irritated, and filled with discontent; it is easily excited; in the midst of the most gloomy scenes horrid spectres are presented to the imagina- tion, and the consequences arc equally pernicious to society and to the deluded individual. How frequently would it be one of the greatest earthly blessings, not only to the victims, but to their families and connections, if the strong powers of fine, but, alas! ruined minds had been early habituated to the healthful exercise of even the humblest philosophical investigation, instead of having been indulged in that sloth which has made them burdens to themselves, tired of existence, and worrying to their friends ! How many are there, who, in dread or ignorance, turn from the philosophic hall, and, determined at all hazards to escape the horrors of ennui, plunge into dissipation ! How many, perhaps, laboring under the influence of irregular excitement, communicate the frenzy under the semblance of religious or patriotic zeal ! When this dreadful malady exhibits such symptoms, it is, perhaps, as hopeless of a cure as that which ensues from the bite of a rabid animal. But the evil might, in a great measure, if not altogether, have been prevented, by removing its cause; and where no more urgent mode demands a preference the occupations of phi- losophy are, perhaps, the most efficacious and the most useful ; and, from the view that I have taken, you will perceive that they arc within the reach of every individual. 134 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. There is another motive that I would press upon every Carolinian. Will you, whilst the rest of the civilized world is pressing forward in the career of science, stand with your arms folded? We do possess considerable facilities for scientific improvement; we have not made of them all the use which they afforded. Perhaps our fault has been, that, in this as in other instances, we have been too san- guine, and that, having commenced with ardor, we yielded to disappointment at not finding, as it were, magical effects flow from our very association. Perhaps we have been, in some degree, ourselves to blame, for want of regular attendance and strict adherence to system. When I look upon the few years that I have had the honor of being your associate I perceive that we had amongst us talents of the first order, zeal for the promotion of science, and deep philosophical erudition. In whom have they been more happily blended and clearly developed, than in that excellent individual who desired to conceal, if he was con- scious of possessing them? Need I name our late lamenteji president, Elliott? But what was the concealment? Not of the knowledge which he communicated, but of the mind from which it flowed. lie would veil the radiance that adorned him, yet so as to shed the light which informed and cheered those by whom he was surrounded. Estimable man! The remembrance which he has left, like the dispo- sition with which he was blessed, combines the vigor of one sex with the sweetness of the other. You have heard his eulogy from lips well fitted to pronounce it. I shall not prolong its echo. Have we not seen in our late venerable vice-president, 2 an excellent model of that per- severing industry, that patient research, that regular attend- ance, that extensive knowledge and devotion to the interests of our society, which it would be well if we continued to imitate? Nor have we been altogether useless. Witness those admirable lectures on geology and botany, which, while they i Doctor James Moultric, Jr. 'Timothy Fordo, Esq. CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 135 attracted the talent and beauty of our city, gave to litera- ture the sanction of fashionable support, and polished and extended that chaste and cultivated taste which pervades our first circles. Witness those literary and philosophical exer- cises, which, by their public occurrence, not only increased the appetite for knowledge, but also its supply; not for a select few, but for all our intelligent population; and the resuming of which, with our lately-increased numbers, prom- ises to render our society more extensively and permanently useful. This is not the place, nor this the occasion, to advert to those other contemplated exertions, which have occasionally occupied our thoughts and engrossed our con- versation during the last two pr three years. I repeat it, we have great facilities, were we industrious in turning them to account. And why should not Carolina indulge and cherish this holy ambition? This State has held a high rank for polite literature; surely she ought to com- plain of her sons, if, recreant to their patriotic and literary reputation, they degenerate from their fathers, and slothfully permit themselves to be surpassed by States which, within their own recollection, were only heavy forests, through which the Indian and his game could scarcely penetrate. I do cherish the expectation that they will arouse to exertion, and in their own sunny land, under their own serene sky, they will generously climb the hill of science, and cultivate it to its very top ; crowning its summit with those useful productions which not only will delight the eye by the richness and delicacy of their color, but will gratify the taste by the excellence of the fruit, and send through many leagues on every side, upon the soft yet bracing air, an odorous perfume fitted to regale the home of her children, and to attract the praise and admiration of the stranger. DESCEHT OF .ZENEAS IUTO HADES. 1 IN reading the works of poets or others, which are gen- erally styled fiction, perhaps we have been too apt to regard the productions of the best writers as more imaginative than in truth they are. "When Horace tells those who would write, either to follow nature, or to invent what would have all its parts in keeping; they who desire to observe the rule, will perhaps find it much easier and better calculated to insure success, to take the first part of the admonition than the second. Probably the great cause why a vast multitude of authors of this description have had so little success, will be found in the fact, that the greater number, in creating their scenery, have consulted their imagination in preference to their observation. This idea has impressed itself more deeply upon my mind, since I have been led to believe, that the most beau- tiful and finished pictures of one of the masters of poetry were sketches from nature, embellished indeed by imagina- tion and improved with exquisite taste, and not merely the results of fiction. Something more than two years have elapsed since, on. a beautiful evening in May, I drove out, accompanied by a few friends, on the road leading from Naples towards the> ancient Putcoli. "NVhen we arrived near the entrance of the grotto of Posilippo, a proposition was made to alight and climb the steep zigzag road leading to the tomb of Virgil. Arrived at the door of the garden in which this mouldering relic is situated, we quickened our pace as we i This essay first appeared as an artLlo In the Southern Literary Journal, Vol. I No. 1. DESCENT OF DESCENT OF JEN E AS INTO HADES. thinks he only gives us the round number one hundred for several, and conformed to the ordinary notion that the cave was the residence of some supernatural or inspired being, and thus easily made it the dwelling of the Sibyl. The substance of an interesting archaeological dissertation which he gives, is that this, like many other caverns gen- erally thought to be natural, is in truth artificial. Such clearly was Virgil's opinion : " Excisum latus ingens in antrum," that the cave was cut into the side of the rock. To sustain this position, the canon brings us to contem- plate the customs of the first Grecian settlers, which indeed were similar to those of others similarly circumstanced. Scarcely landed, the first two objects they sought were a dwelling-place and security. No spot on the Cumsen coast offered a more convenient location for the purpose than this the only rock which is near that part of the shore. Their usual mode was to build with stone, anThe following nro the verses cited: 154, C57, 3C8, 388, 391, 438. DESCENT OF JEN E AS INTO HADES. 149 If, however, we will suppose that Virgil, like most other poets, used freely the privileges to which he was entitled, Ave may then take the Lucrine Lake for the Styx. The traveller passing the ferarum stabula, after emerging from the grotto of Avernus, leaving this on his left, proceeds by what is known as the Scaiandrone, towards Lago del Fusaro called by Virgil the Palus Acherusia or "Ache- rontis ad undas." JEneas and the Sibyl, having now passed through the dark grotto which lies between the Lago d'Averno and the vicinity of the Lucrine Lake, had issued from the cave into that region which we may now consider as the "Infernal." From the southern aperture of this cavern there are three roads one on the left hand leads in a northeast direction to Pozzuoli and Solfatara ; with this we have no concern ; another, southward of east, leads to the Lago Lucrino and the Gulf of Pozzuoli, the ocean of the ancients ; whilst another, nearly south, leads to the Lakes of Fusaro and Aquamorta, which are not a furlong apart, and not more than a mile from the cavern of Avernus, called still Bagno della Sibilla. This is, then, the only road which leads to a spot whence a view might be had of the two lakes, and is, therefore, well described in line 295 : "Hence to deep Acheron they take their way, Whose turbid eddies, thick with ooze and clay, Are whirled aloft and in Cocytus lost." The relative position of the two lakes, neither of which is large, but that of the Aquamorta much the smaller, produces even to-day the same effects that are described. When by the overflowing of the sea or any other cause, the Lago del Fusaro is overcharged, it pours a flood of turbid water, thick with filth and sands, into the Aquamorta or Cocytus, which is one of the most pestilential little mud-holes in this vicinity. The present road from the Lucrine Lake to that of Fusaro leads towards the northern extremity of the latter, 150 DESCENT OF ^NEAS INTO HADES. and gives no opportunity of seeing both the supposed Acheron and Cocytus from one point. Jorio, however, gives sufficient reasons to show that the ancient road, which existed in the time of Virgil, had a different direction, and led to a small elevation less than a furlong distant from the southeastern border of the Acheron, whence they are both fully visible, and where the Sibyl might very properly have said : "Cocyti stagna alta vides, Stygiamque paludem;" 1 and, indeed, the lake of Fusaro may this day, as well as nineteen centuries ago, be properly called palus, as the Aquamorta is most aptly designated by the expression stagna. Upon the borders of the Lake of Fusaro, the poet placed those whom he described as "The ghosts rejected are the unhappy crew, Deprived of sepulchres and funerals due." The crowd here is very great, and amongst them is the lost Palinurus, who most pathetically implores to be relieved, by having his obsequies performed, and receives the assur- ance from his former chieftain that a day will come when the rites shall be paid, and his name honorably transmitted to future ages. At the present day, you will easily find a boatman who, occupying a bark at the spot which our canon believes to l)e the same which Virgil assigned to Charon, will convey the traveler across ; though this ferryman must receive a larger fee than the tariff which Pluto fixed as a sufficient remuneration for the grisly boatman of former centuries. However, all this is, perhaps, just, because the modern tourist will be treated with more civility, and is certainly more weighty than a ghost. Having crossed the lake at a place where it is some- thing less than a half-mile in width, you land at less than that distance from the sea, and upon soil which this day answers the description given by the poet : "His passengers at length are wafted o'er, Exposed in muddy weeds upon the miry shore."* 1 Line 833. * Lino 415. DESCENT OF ^NEAS INTO HADES. 151 Turning to the north from this spot, the lake is on the left hand, and the sea within a little more than a fur- long on your right, and the high headland of Monte di Procida rises with abrupt rocks before you. But not more than one hundred yards in front of you, is the little hill of Torre della Gaveta, quite near the shore and the mouth of the stream which communicates between the Lago del Fusaro and the sea. Here, in a hill, is a cavern, cut by the early Greek settlers, to form this communication between the lake and the Mediterranean. It has frequently, how- ever, its channel so choked with sand that it becomes necessary, in the end of the spring, to clear and deepen the passage. In this also winds and waters frequently make a fitful noise, and this was the fancied abode of Cerberus : " No sooner landed in his den they found The triple porter of the Stygian sound, Grim Cerberus." ' Having given to him his sop, and finding him now spread powerless in sleep : "The keeper charmed, the chief, without delay, Passed on and took the irremeable way." The stream here may, without any great stretch of im- agination, be called " not to be repassed ; " for it is not by this path our hero returns. Going forward, the traveler now ascends the hill upon which the tower of Gaveta is built, and as he descends towards the southeast, he enters a valley which the poet describes in the succeeding lines : "Before the gates the cries of babes new-born, Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn, Assault his ears; then those whom form of laws Condemned to die when traitors judged their cause." * It would be -curious and instructive here to enter upon the examination of the doctrines of the ancient schools, i Line 417. * Line 434. Line 426. 152 DESCENT OF JEN E AS INTO HADES. especially that of Plato, concerning the future state ; particu- larly as Virgil, throughout his book, gives a beautiful exem- plification of the opinions of that celebrated philosopher. Hav- ing ascertained what those doctrines were, the next step would be to trace their origin ; to see the sources whence he derived his information ; to find how much of his knowledge he drew from the sacred volumes of the chosen people of God, and from the original traditions given by the patri- archs, of the information directly received, concerning the other world, from God himself, by Adam, by Seth, by Enos, by Noe, by Abraham, and others ; to view the addi- tions and the changes which mythology had introduced, and to see what beautiful imagery the mind of the poet spread through the description ; but this is not our present object. The valley here is just such as you would consider calculated to fill the helpless babes with terror, and to minister to the pensive feelings of the innocent victims of mistaken justice. Jorio informs us, to sustain the accuracy of his remarks, that if you inquire of the peasants who inhabit Monte di Procida, and particularly that part called Cappo Vecchie, marked by the ruins of Roman buildings, where is the road de V inferno, they will bring you by the winding road to the descent on the side of this outlet of Fusaro, by the tortu- ous paths going down from crag to crag they will lead you to the entrance of this valley, and thence through it, by the very way which I am about to describe. He places, after describing the tribunal of Minos, the unfortunate suicides in the next location on the southern side of the Aquamorta, or Cocytus. We have then the description : "Not far from thence the mournful fields appear, So called from lovers that inhabit there ; The souls whom that unhappy flame invades, In secret solitude and myrtle shades Make endless moans, and pining -with desire Lament, too late, the unextinguishecl fire."* i Line 440. DESCENT OF AENEAS INTO HADES. 153 After describing a number of the unhappy victims who dwell in this dismal region, JEneas is brought to meet the wretched Dido, who treats him with fixed dislike and deserved scorn. These plains stretch forward better than a furlong, a little south of east from the Aquamorta, and the canon brings to our view the mythological statement that the waters of the Cocytus were increased by the tears of unfortunate lovers, which adds to the evidence of the poet's precision and to the probability of the canon's opinion. In the last stage of this region, he places the warriors, and takes occasion to describe several of those famed for prowess in the Trojan war, and to introduce the beautiful but concise history of Deiphobus, with its instructive moral. We now come to a spot which the poet thus describes : "'Tis here in different parts the way divides. The right to Pluto's golden palace guides, The left to that unhappy region tends, Which to the depth of Tartarus descends, The seat of night's profound and punished fiends." This spot is little more than half a mile from the Aqua- morta, and at present the road divides ; on your left, advancing in the way which leads from the supposed cave of Cerberus. When you come to this division, you see a region which is fitted to suggest the idea given of Tartarus by the poet; and keeping the line to your right, you would arrive at those regions that he calls Elysium. To the left is a region bounded on the west by the Acheru- sian Lake and the muddy and pestilential Cocytus, while the sterile region leading to the den of beasts stretches on before you. Several critics have ridiculed the notion that there could have been in this vile and deserted spot anything to suggest to Virgil the existence of the city of the damned, such as he describes it in this sixth book. But suppose there was nothing which bore an actual resem- blance to the place described, still it is properly urged i Line 540. 154 DESCENT OF ^NEAS INTO HADES. that at least this much latitude should be fairly allowed to the bard, that he might place an imaginary city on the spot. Yet we will not content ourselves with this answer. It can be easily shown that in this region are to be found many of the materials from which such a city could be constructed, and that there was in former days a city upon the very site. Let us, however, look at the description: The hero, looking to the left, espied A iOfty tower, and strong on every side, With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds, Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds, And pressed betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds." ' In the first place, this whole region is in a great measure volcanic; and not only here, but at the other side of the Bay of Puzzuoli, the evidences of it are abundant. In this very spot are the craters of two scarcely extinct, though small, volcanoes. No very great stretch of imagination is required to view in their flood of burning lava the fiery stream of Phlegethon, either roaring as it rushes between xocks, or as it bears them along tumbling in its torrent, creating an appalling noise. The peasants will this day point out what they call Fumarole, very distinct tokens of subterraneous fires to the west of the Scalandrone, on the very site of the city of the damned, as described by the poet. Homer informs us that the Phlegethon is discharged into the Acheron and the Cocytus. Virgil was a close student of Homer, and his Phlegethon would naturally flow from the site into the Lago del Fusaro and the Aqua- morta. These volcanoes were probably much more active in the time of Virgil than we find them to-day. Thus, the fiery stream was a natural suggestion. The walls of the city of Misenus presented themselves here also to the observation of the poet. Even to-day you will find scarcely a space of three hundred yards without the ruins of some ancient Roman structure, some of them of considerable extent, many of them covered with strata i Line 548. DESCENT OF &NEAS INTO HADES. 155 of volcanic matter. You will find several caves and Greek and Roman sepulchres, so that there was sufficient occasion to lead the imagination to a subterraneous fiery prison, the entrance to which was in a citadel surrounded by a naming river. This was the Tartarean region, or the hell of the poet, which was exhibited to his hero, but into which he did not enter. The fortress was impregnable, and from it issued the cries of the tortured. His guide informed him of the mode of judgment and the dire infliction of ven- geance ; and the hero saw the gates open, so as to enable him to describe the terrific disclosures that were thus made, and to convery the detail to those who had not been privi- leged as he was. ** The gaping gulf low to the centre lies. And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies. The rival of the gods, the Titan race, Here singed with lightning roll within the unfathomed space." 1 Whoever has been at the Grotto del Cane or in the hot sulphur caverns between Naples and Pozzuoli, is perfectly aware of the effect of the exhalation from this soil. Add to this the volcanic matter, the ruins of ancient tombs, the occasional shakings of the earth, and some notions may be formed of the mythological relations of the restless and tortured Titans, endeavoring to rise and disturbing the soil under which they are buried, so as to create those fissures which emit the stench of their brimstone graves to our upper world. The concluding lines of the poet, after the enumeration of several of the wretched culprits, are beautiful and highly instructive : "Unhappy Theseus, doomed for ever there, Is fixed by fate on his eternal chair, And -wretched Phlegias warns the world with cries, (Could warning make the world more just or wise,) Learn righteousness, and dread the avenging deities. To tyrants others have their country sold, Imposing foreign laws for foreign gold. I Line 677. 156 DESCENT OF &NEAS INTO HADES. Some have old laws repealed, new statutes made, Not as the people pleased, hut as they paid. With incest some their daughters' heds profaned ; All dared the worst of ill, and what they dared, attained. Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, And throats of brass, inspired with iron lungs, 1 could not half those horrid crimes repeat, Nor half the punishments those crimes have met." * This was the Tartarus, or hell, into which, as I remarked, the hero did not enter, but with a view and description of which he was favored. The spot from which it was examined was just beyond that described as the division of the roads, " Hie locus est partes ubi se via findit in ambas," and is now called Croce via di Capella. At a short distance beyond it, on the road, is the Mercato di Sabato, where formerly stood a circus, which probably suggested to the poet the following description, given by the priestess: "The walls of Pluto's palace are in view; The gate and iron arch above it stands, On anvils labored by the Cyclops' hands."* AVe have again, in a single expression of the poet, an admirable coincidence with the site : "She said, and through the gloomy shades they passed, And chose the middle path." 3 Just here, even at this day, the road branches into three parts; that to the right leads to the western ex- tremity of the Mare Morto, where it approaches the Monte di Procida. Mythological writers inform us that Lethe touches on the confines of the infernal regions, a portion of which was in the ravines of this mountain; and thus we may suppose this lake, which is formed by an influx from one of the deep indentings of the Bay of Pozzuoli, is the fabled Lethe itself. On the left, the road leads towards the Scalandrone, and back to Averno. The Spatium Medium will lead to the northeastern shore of the Mare Morto, or Lethe, and here are the Elysian fields; for again mythology J Line^617. * Line 630. Line 683. DESCENT OF AENEAS INTO HADES. 157 informs us that Lethe stretched along the borders of those happy regions. This middle path, then, was followed by the Trojan chieftain, who having performed the proper lustrations and duly offered his golden bough by placing it over the portal, was admitted. The difference of the soil and the variety of productions form here a contrast with the gloomy, the sterile, the vol- canic, and the rugged regions through which our way had lain before, and very naturally suggested to the Mantuan bard those happy lines : "These holy rites performed, they took their way Where long-extended plains of pleasure lay. The verdant fields with those of heaven may vie, With ether vested and a purple sky; The blissful seats of happy souls below, Stars of their own, and their own sun they know." l The melody of the raptured poet now grows richer with the increasing grandeur of the scene, and perhaps few de- scriptions can be found to equal that which is given in his succeeding lines. To observe upon this is not, how- ever, our object. After due inquiry he discovers the loved object of his search ; their interview is in the midst of those gentle elevations and the varying undulations which enrich this spot. The Platonic system, modified with peculiar diversities of the poet's own adoption, is beauti- fully unfolded the mingling of the universal mind with matter in its various modifications, the death of man, and his judgment. They who escape Tartarus are generally doomed to a variety of purgations, according to the stains with which they are disfigured : 41 E'en when those bodies are by death resign'd, Some old, inherent spots are left behind, A sullying tincture of corporeal stains Deep in the substance of the soul remains. Thus are her splendors dimmed and crusted o'er With those dark vices that she knew before. For this the souls a various penance pay, To purge the taints of former crimes away." * i Line 637. 2 Line 135. 158 DESCENT OF &NEAS INTO HADES. Of Elysium he proceeds then to say, after some special descriptions of the previous process of purgation: "And few so cleansed to those abodes repair, And breathe in ample fields the Eoft Elysian air." ' However, this happiness is not to continue, for the transmigration of souls forms a part of the system : "Both these thin airy throngs thy eyes behold, When o'er their heads a thousand years have rolled, In mighty crowds to yon Lethean flood, Swarm at the potent summons of the God, There deep the draught of dark oblivion drain, Then they desire new bodies to obtain, And visit heaven's ethereal realms again." a Thus, numbers who never entered Elysium, but were detained in their state of purgation, were, according to this philosophical system, sent back with the happy souls to- animate new bodies. After this view of the poet's notion of Elysium, I shall hasten to compare the few remaining passages with the topography. At the moment when An- chises was discovered by his son, the poet describes hi* situation : ' But old Anchises in a flowery vale Reviewed his mustered race, and took the tale: Those happy spirits which, ordained by fate, For future being and new bodies wait; With studious thought observed th' illustrious throng, In nature's order as they passed along. Their names, their fate, their conduct and their care, In peaceful senate and successful war." 3 After having gone forward from the Mercato di Sabato r and stood on one of those pretty swellings of the ground, the hollows are exposed to view, and we find Anchises thus occupied in one of those delightful spots, at some distance forward. The Mare Morto is also visible, with its open strand on the right; and it was to its banks that they who now pressed forward to re-enter mortal existence > Lino 743. * L'no 748. Line C70. DESCENT OF AENEAS INTO HADES. * were approaching, whilst amongst them the great father of the Roman race was surveying his future progeny. JEneas went quickly forward to him, to a spot answering the description, near the northeastern extremity of this lake ; and after the first efforts to embrace his parent, Virgil informs us : "Now in a secret vale the Trojan sees A separate grove, through which a gentle breeze Pfrays with a passing breath, and whispers through the trees ; And just before the confines of the wood, The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood, About the boughs an airy nation flew." * And when the visitor expressed his desire to know who- they were, the father answers : "The souls that throng the flood Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies owed. In Lethe's lake they long oblivion taste; Of future life secure, forgetful of the past." 4 Mentioning a desire, which he had long entertained, to give to his son the knowledge of his future descendants, he proceeds to unfold that explanation to which I have before drawn your attention, of the process of man's- existence and of the Platonic system. It is here to be remarked, that at this day the scenery at this northeastern part of the lake is described with tolerable accuracy by the passage which has been quoted before the last, if we credit many who have seen and testify it. After the doctrinal communication, if I may so- call it, Anchises is desirous to bring under his son's ob- servation the succession of heroes which he had been con- templating, and for this purpose the poet very naturally caused him to bring ^Eneas to a more elevated spot. "Thus having said the father spirit leads The priestess and his son through swarms of shades, And takes a rising ground from thence to see The long procession of his progeny." * i Line 7 3. * Line 713. ' Line 733. 160 DESCENT OF AENEAS INTO HADES. & This is a spot called Puzzillo, and here the poet takes opportunity of giving, through Anchises, that splendid enu- meration of those sages and heroes whom he desired to celebrate, until the catalogue closes with that sublime and pathetic exclamation which procured wealth and fame for the writer : "Oh, couldst thou shun the dreadful stroke of late; Rome should in thee behold, with ravished eyes, Her pride, her darling, her Marcellus rise." 1 A little above Puzzillo are the ruins of ancient vast structures, and this day, in the midst of them, is the parish church of St. Anne, the vestibule of which is marked by the canon as the spot where stood, in former days, the gate which was selected by our poet as that of horn. This is on your right, and a short distance on your left is Bacoli, not far from the tomb of Agrippina ; here was the gate of ivory. "Two gates the silent courts of sleep adorn That of pale ivory, this of lucid horn, Through this pale visions take their airy way, Through that false phantoms mount the realms of day." * The Sibyl and her companion having been dismissed by Anchises through the ivory gate, "Straight to the ships uEneas took his way." 8 In the very expression, "secat viam," the canon finds evidence of correctness of his illustrations, because there is a short path from Bacoli to the spot where the Trojans landed, which cuts straight across the peninsula and at angles with the other roads over which we have gone. "Then steering by the strand he plows the sea, And to Caieta's port directs his way," 4 which could not have been the case from Baise, which is at the opposite side of the promontory from Cuma3 and Lino 889. Line 893. Lino 899. Line 900. DESCENT OF JENEAS INTO HADES. 161 within the Bay of Pozzuoli ; the voyage from which would require the rounding of that cape, and certainly could not be said to go recto litore; whereas, from the coast at Cumai it is a plain direct course, straight along the shore to Gaeta. I have thus endeavored to give you the principal illus- trations exhibited by the learned Italian canon, to show that in this, which is amongst the finest books of descrip- tive poetry and splendid fiction, the great author was more guided than is generally imagined by a close and patient study of actual scenery. How far I have succeeded in conveying his reasoning, I cannot say; how far I have sustained my position, it is for you to judge. THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 1 THAT it is useful to set aside particular days for the celebration of great events, is sustained not only by the usage of all nations, but by the advantages resulting from that usage. Each succeeding week is, by divine institution, marked by a day made holy. Man is thus reminded of his duties to his Creator ; he thereon withdraws from the bustle of worldly occupation, he devotes himself to the contemplation of his eternal destiny, he seeks to discover the means whereby he may secure his lasting happiness. For this purpose he revises his conduct, endeavors to cor- rect his faults, to make progress in virtue, to partake of the benefits of religious observance. He also, by the observance of the day, gives encouragement to his com- panions, and trains up those who depend upon him, and who are to succeed him, in an acquaintance with the great principles which are to direct their practice, so as to per- petuate the service of God, and to secure the salvation of himself and of others. That great Being from whom the precept for this observ- ance emanated, was well acquainted with our nature > because He formed us, and was able to regulate and to direct the work of His own hands. The law was enacted to preserve in our memory a recollection of our duty, to enforce its obligation on the understanding, to excite the will to resolve upon its performance, and to interweave an attachment for it with our dearest affections. i Oration delivered before the Washington Light Infantry, at their request. In tho Roman Catholic Cathedral Church of St. Flnbar, in the city of Charleston, on the 22d of February, 1838, being the thirty-first anniversary of the Company. THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 163 But though the religious homage of God be our first duty, it is not our only obligation. Not only is man destined to be an inhabitant of heaven, but he is also doomed to sojourn for a while upon the earth. During that period assigned for his pilgrimage here he is surrounded by many cares, and subject to several wants, for which he not only is bound to provide, but in exerting himself for which purpose he' may lawfully seek, especially for those who de- pend upon him, or with whom he is connected, such a measure of enjoyment and happiness as will gratify kim and them, without endangering that more glorious inherit- ance to which we all aspire. In his relation to transitory things, man is liable to more immediate, more vivid, and more lasting impressions from those things which affect him directly and personally, than from those which regard him but generally as a member of society, and indirectly through that circumstance ; just as he is more wrought upon by sensible objects and pres- ent enjoyments, than by the invisible things of a future world, and by the remote prospects of happiness or of misery. Yet it frequently happens in society, as in religion, that our true welfare depends infinitely more upon what is least calculated to attract our immediate attention or to excite our first or our warmest interest. And upon the same principle that the Lord instituted His holy day, to correct this evil as regards religion ; so is it useful to have certain days set apart, to correct the mistakes of human selfishness, and to convinc3 individuals that their own respective advantages will be better secured by labor- ing together as members of society to promote the general welfare. Hence, civil and political festivals, judiciously regu- lated, are of great advantage to the State at large, and consequently to the individuals who compose the body politic. That same character of our nation, to which I have alluded, also shows that the bulk of mankind are neces- sarily more affected by those objects that strike their senses, 164 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. than by any abstract meditations. Man is not a merely spiritual being; he sees through the eye, he hears through the ear, he tastes by the palate, and so of the other organs of sense. They are the usual channels through which his soul is informed, impressed, or excited, and therefore, by a common usage of our race, on those festive occasions, there are exhibitions to the eye, information by addresses, or excitement by music for the ear, the indulgence of the feast, and other devices of enjoyment ; and all are calcu- lated, by a proper and judicious distribution, to produce the happiest effect upon the mind, though, like every other good, they may be abused, and may thereby occasion the most deplorable results. The mind, also, is much more easily and securely instructed by the contemplation of striking events properly displayed before it, than by any abstruse reasoning or spec- ulative disquisition. In this contemplation, objects are easily grasped by the senses or apprehended by the imagination, and retained by the memory: Hence, festivals are not, whether in religious or civil society, the mere contempla- tion of abstract principles, but the commemoration of events in which principles are practically and beneficially exhibited. Man is easily and powerfully wrought upon by the exam- ple of his fellows. We would derive little, if any, benefit from attempting a philosophical inquiry into the cause; it is enough that we know the fact; and hence the public good is greatly promoted by holding forth to the world the bright examples of the benefactors of mankind. Not only are sal- utary emulation and a virtuous ambition thereby created, but the vain excuses of timidity or sloth, when they plead the existence of insuperable difficulties and the impossiblity of success, are at once triumphantly answered, by showing what men like ourselves have achieved; and the noblest human motives to exertion are furnished, by showing the benefits which one man may procure for millions. Whilst the d'eds of our honored brother are recounted, we feel an energy for whose origin we cannot indeed account, but TUB CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 165 whose effects are powerful and may be highly beneficial. Thus has the roll of fame been inscribed in every age and in every nation, with the names of the wise, of the good, of the learned, of the brave, of the holy, of the devoted, of the laborious, of the benevolent, and of the just. Temples have been erected, cities have been named, monuments have been raised, games have been instituted, festivals celebrated, and a variety of other modes devised, to hold forth their example, and to perpetuate their renown. But 'in the whole multitude, I find few, who in respect to the peculiar end for which he appears to have been fitted by Providence, stands so honorably conspicuous; not one whose example can be so beneficially held forth as a lesson and a model to the citizens of our republics, as our own Wash- ington. And I undertake the task, which you have so kindly assigned me, with high gratification indeed, for the honor you have conferred upon one whom you have long since thought proper to enroll upon the respectable list of honorary members of your corps, but with a diffidence which is as unfeigned as it is unusual; because the under- taking in which I have engaged is quite new to me, and the theme is as difficult as the subject is elevated. Though I cannot attempt to delineate the character of the father of our country, I shall endeavor to sketch an imperfect outline, and my deficiency will require all your indulgence. The date of his birth is well known, the 22d of Feb- ruary, 1732; and that his family was one of repute for a considerable period previous to the departure of his ances- tors from England, as his relatives and connections were subsequently amongst the most respectable in Virginia. 1 am far from attributing merit to birth, but I am by no means inclined to deny the general influence of station and society upon the education, the sentiments, and the conduct of individuals. Several of the greatest men that have conferred benefit upon the human family, have steadily risen from the humble position into which they had been 166 TEE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. cast by the obscurity of their origin ; and we have num- berless instances of the degrading vices, the mischievous pranks, the criminal courses, and the base and unprincipled tyranny, of not only individual members, but of entire progenies of the aristocracy. Unfortunately, also, it is but too true, that instances of the former description are far more rare than of the latter. This, however, does not interfere with the position that I would lay down ; which is, that the civilized habits, the polite manners, the more extended information, which are generally found in s6me classes ; the necessity under which their station places them of giving to their children the best education, and the facilities which they have of procuring it ; as well as the conviction of the child, that it is only by sustaining him- self in his place, by having the manners, the conduct, and the information, which are expected to be found therein, that he can escape degradation and contempt, form a union of powerful aids and incentives to improvement. We need not, therefore, distribute mankind into classes of different blood and unlike nature; in order to arrive at the conclu- sion, that the circumstance of birth is in many instances favorable to the improvement of the individuals. So far from being injurious to our republican principles of the equality of citizens, and tending to degrade a large por- tion of the community, I can consider it only as giving more merit to the individuals, who with less favorable auspices have, by the power of intellect, the adherence to principle, and the application of industry, outstripped those who had greater original advantages. I consider the mis- chievous concession to aristocracy to consist in attaching peculiar privileges to those born in a particular family ; but not in the admission, that from the peculiarity of their position they have greater opportunities of improvement. George Washington was thus at his earliest moments placed in the most favorable position that the circumstances of the colony would allow, for the best education that could be obtained, from an intercourse with those whose THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 167 minds were cultivated, whose principles were established, and whose habits were formed by a good stock of knowl- edge, by industrious pursuits, and honorable occupation. The schools then existing afforded indeed but little scope for great progress in science. At the period of his father's death, in 1743, he could read, write, and solve a consider- able number of arithmetical questions ; and very few schools at that time in the Southern country carried education to a higher grade. The character of the mother is generally sup'posed, and I believe not inconsiderately, to have from nature, even more than from the force of teaching or exam- ple, a powerful influence upon the character of the son. As far as we can learn, Washington was again fortunate in this respect. This widow had been a Miss Ball, and was the second wife of Mr. Augustine Washington, who, at the time of his death, placed in her a well-deserved con- fidence of managing a large property, chiefly acquired by his own industry, and of superintending the education of her children, of whom George was eldest. She continued to keep him at school, and to enable him to acquire such information as could there be afforded him. At this early period, he had obtained over the minds of his companions that moral ascendency, which through life he was enabled by the very same principles, more fully developed and more extensively applied, to gain over his fellow-citizens and to preserve to the termination of his life. His love of discipline caused him to be placed at the head of their little military organizations ; his probity and judgment secured to his awards, as arbiter in their differences, a ready and willing execution. His exercises were such as fitted him for activity and vigilance, and his love for mathematics and attention to forms of business showed a fondness for order, a patience of toil, a desire of improvement, and steadiness of purpose not often found in a youth of only fourteen years of age. His eldest brother, Lawrence, the first son of Mr. Wash- ington's first wife, was at this period a respectable officer 168 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. in the British forces ; he had served under General Went- worth and Admiral Vernon at the siege of Carthagena, and he had acquired with them some influence by his correct and gentlemanly conduct. Lawrence was greatly attached to his brother George; and believing, from what he had seen of his capacity and habits, that he would easily win his way to distinction in the British navy, procured for him, through these friends, a midshipman's warrant, in the year 1746. George, pleased with the appointment, was preparing to enter into a service that, if once taken up by him, would probably have materially interfered with the progress, if not the issue, of a revolution, which amongst the many that have shaken the nations within the last century, stands alike distinguished for the justice of its grounds, the mod- eration of its proceedings, the wisdom of its process, and the success of its results. A mother's authoritative request was the mode through which this difficulty was removed, by that God who sweetly and powerfully brings about His own wise purposes, without exposing His counsels to the over-curious scrutiny of men. We have already seen in the boy many traces of what became the character of the man. The eye of the artist discerns in the block of marble the fair proportions of the concealed statue ; the material is precious, but much of it must, by patience, by attention, and by exquisite skill, be cut off and pared away, before the majestic figure, which he detects, can be exhibited to the eye of an admiring multitude. Washington may, under God, be considered as having been fashioned by a special providence. At this early period, he had already either laid down or adopted a wise code for the regulation of his conduct. This consisted of one hundred and ten rules, of which Mr. Sparks, his biogra- pher, justly observes: "Whoever has studied the character of Washington will be persuaded, that some of its promi- nent features took their shape from these rules, thus early selected and adopted as his guide." In another place he says of some of them, that they were " fitted to soften THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 169 and polish the manners, to keep alive the best affections of the heart, to impress the obligation of the moral vir- tues, to teach what is due to others in social relations, and above all to inculcate the practice of a perfect self-control." "In studying the character of Washington, it is obvious that this code of rules had an influence upon his whole life. His temperament was ardent, his passions strong, and, amidst the multiplied scenes of temptation and excitement through which he passed, it was his constant effort and ultimate triumph to check the one and subdue the other. His intercourse with men, private and public, in every walk and station, was marked with a consistency and fit- ness to occasion, a dignity, decorum, condescension, and mildness, a respect for the claims of others, and a deli- cate perception of the nicer shades of civility ; which was not more the dictate of his native good sense and incom- parable judgment, than the fruits of long and unwearied discipline." It would be well if the respect that is so justly due to the father of his country, engaged its children to adopt the maxims by whose influence he became worthy of their esteem. It would be well if, in place of encouraging a spirit of bad pride, of arrogant self-sufficiency, and per- mitting unchecked rudeness to become a habit, under the notion of preserving a spirit of independence, parents would instill into the minds of their children such maxims; and by the proper exercise of their authority keep them within the restraint of that politeness which so peculiarly characterized, perhaps, the least offensive and the most reso- lute man that the eighteenth century has produced. At the age of sixteen, he entered upon the laborious v duties of a land-surveyor in a wilderness. The profession, besides promising to be lucrative, afforded an excellent opportunity for the inspection of new lands and for making valuable purchases. His first excursion was beyond the eastern Alleghany range, whither he went in March, 1749, whilst winter still held possession of the summits of this lofty bar- 170 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. xier, rivers were swollen by falling rains and melting snows, and his path lay through tangled forests, abrupt precipices, uninvaded swamps, and in a region where it was a luxury to find a log hut, as a relief from the inconvenience of the surveyor's tent. Yet was this, in the order of Provi- dence, a suitable preparation for the man who was destined, at a future day, to share in the privations and to direct the movements of ill-provided armies, in similar circum- stances; and this was the very spot in which he was destined to make his first military movements, in the service of the colony, several years previous to the Revolution. During the three years that he continued thus occupied, he had acquired a habit of business, and established a character for ability and integrity; nor was he estranged from his family, for he was sometimes a welcome inmate at the residence of his eldest brother, who now dwelt on the banks of the Potomac, at a farm to which he gave the name of Mount Vernon, from his affectionate regard to his friend the admiral, and he also visited his mother, whom he occasionally aided in the regulation of the family concerns "When he had attained the age of nineteen, the frontiers of Virginia, which then comprised the present State of Kentucky, were threatened by Indian depredations and the encroachments of France, whose Canadian possessions stretched along on the west towards Louisiana, and were said to include Indiana, Illinois, and even Ohio. The colony of Virginia was laid off into military districts, over each of which was appointed an adjutant-general, with the rank of major, who was to assemble and to exercise the militia, to inspect their arms, and to enforce the disciplinary regulations to which they were subjected. "Washington was appointed to this office in one of the districts, and felt that it was now his duty to acquire as perfect a knowl- edge as possible of the use of weapons, of tactics, and of evolutions. In the society of his brother and others, who had served in the wars, he had sufficient opportunities. THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 171 The death of his brother increased his cares ; for the confidence and affection of the dying man, and the high esteem in which George was held by the surviving mem- bers of the family and their , friends, placed him, though the youngest of the executors, in the administration of an estate which was ultimately, by the arrangement of the deceased, to vest in himself. The military organization of the province was changed, but Major Washington's appoint- ment was renewed; so that he found himself, at a period when very few think of commencing the duties of life, already at the head of a large property, in the adminis- tration of an extensive estate, loved by his family, confided in by the public for his integrity, and entrusted by the government with a charge of nearly the first rank and of the highest importance. If we stop to inquire how this occurred, AVC shall have no difficulty in discovering; for unceasing industry, well-regulated ambition of improvement, proper respect for the established rules of society, immov- able integrity, patient endurance of toil, and self-denial which arose from the determination to answer the confidence that was reposed in him, all united to a systematic course of conduct laid down and steadily followed, enabled him to perform with facility, order and success duties that would have otherwise perplexed by their confusion, overwhelmed with their weight, and destroyed in their ruin, the indi- vidual who would have rashly undertaken them. Washing- ton has scarcely attained to manhood, and yet his character is already formed, and is extensively and advantageously known. He had labored greatly, he had endured much, he had overcome many a temptation, ^before he could attain the eminence upon which he already stood. Great efforts are, however, still to be made, that he may preserve his position; but, habituated to labor, to combat, and to over- come his passions are in his keeping; there is more need of vigilance than of effort; but there must be no relaxa- tion on the part of him who guards so wily and so power- ful a foe as strong natural propensities, subdued indeed and 172 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. restrained, but yet vigorous, powerful, and seductive. One day's negligence may render unavailing all the achievements of years. What a lesson, my friends, is this for the youth of our country! What an admonition for parents! Why have we not amongst us more men bearing this true stamp of the nobility of virtue? Because the child is too fond of pleasure, too impatient of restraint; because the parent has false notions of glorious independence, and fondly imagines that lost virtue may be easily restored; because a weak and miscalculating fondness persuades itself that the bridle which restrains from, licentiousness destroys that strength which it but directs to a useful and a pleasing course. How greatly preferable is the noble animal, that, trained to the hand, patiently submits to its directions, to the untamed beast that menaces ruin to every one who approaches! The one smells the battle at a distance, and proudly lifts his head, whilst he impatiently paws the ground; yet he rests in his place, prepared but steady. He hears the note of preparation in the trumpet's blast, and he now looks for the onset. At the signal, he bears his rider in the midst of his companions, in safety and in victory, over the ruins of the broken host. He holds back when he is checked; he returns, fatigued indeed, but not exhausted; he is nour- ished and cared for; he is grateful to his attendants, and, before the rising sun, he neighs to prove his desire for the pursuit of the succeeding day. Woe to him who would enter into battle with the other! Should he not be shaken from his seat, or be carried wildly from the face of the array he is separated from his troop he is borne power- less into the thick of his enemies, where he soon falls, the bewildered victim of his own rashness, and to the fury of those who surround him. His corpse is found under the carcass of his worst enemy. Even in death, the cause of his ruin is manifest to that friend who would seek, under shade of twilight, to render the last rites to the body of his associate. What a picture of the folly of a parent, THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 173 and of the ruin of a child! Call you this glorious inde- pendence ? In truth, we have now only to contemplate the character thus formed, developing itself as circumstances permit, and becoming more fixed and better matured by experience. Washington's first public mission was not only of a 'highly confidential but of an extremely perilous nature. The French had crossed the Northern Lakes, which had been assumed by Great Britain as the natural boundary between their respective colonies. It was suspected that they sought to establish themselves upon the Ohio. A messenger had been sent from Virginia, in the character of an Indian trader, to visit the friendly tribes in that quarter, and to procure accurate intelligence of their dispo- sition and of the French advances. He had returned without having fully accomplished the object for which he was employed, but bringing sufficient information to prove that the fears expressed by the British cabinet to the .Governor of Virginia were well founded, and that France was disposed to establish posts within the territory claimed by England. The governor had been furnished with cannon and ammunition, to repel, if necessary, by force, any effort of this description. Not only was it ascertained that troops had descended from Canada, but it was found that others had ascended from New Orleans, and that it was contem- plated to lock up the British within a line of posts ex- tending from the lakes, by the Ohio and Mississippi, so as to secure at least all the territory west of this line for the crown of France. The Governor and Council of Vir- ginia resolved, that it would be proper, as both nations were at peace, to send an officer to the French commander, with a request to know by what authority he had advanced, and also to learn what was his object. Major Washington was selected. "He was directed to proceed without delay to the Ohio river, convene some of the Indian chiefs at a place called Logstown, make known to them the objects of his visit, 174 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. and, after ascertaining where the French were stationed, to request an escort of warriors to be his guides and safe- guard the rest of the journey. When arrived at the principal French post, he was to present his credentials and a letter from the Governor of Virginia to the commandant, and in the name of his Brittannic majesty to demand an answer. He was furthermore to inquire diligently, and by cautious means, into the number of the French troops that had crossed the lakes, the reinforcements expected from Canada, how many forts they had erected, and at what places, how they were garrisoned and appointed, and their distances from each other, and, in short, to procure all the intelligence possible respecting the condition and objects of the intruders. "Fortified with written instructions to this effect, with credentials and a passport, to which the great seal of the colony was affixed, he departed from Williamsburg, the seat of government in Virginia, on November 31, 1753. The distance before him to the extreme point of his destination, by the route he would pursue, was about five hundred and sixty miles, in great part over lofty and rugged mountains, and more than half of the way through the heart of a wilderness, where no traces of civilization as yet appeared." With a party of seven companions he set forward, and by climbing, scrambling, fording and swimming, as well as by riding, he reached the Monongahela and Alleghany, at the point where their junction forms the Ohio. His eye soon discerned the peculiar advantages consequent upon the erection of a fort at this spot. It was from the erection of this work the colonists were driven in the subsequent year; it was completed by the French, and called after the name of their Canadian governor, Du Q,uesne ; subsequently retaken by Washington, when it was called Fort Pitt, and at this day has risen to the important rank of an indus- trious city, Pittsburg. About twenty miles below this fork he called together some Indian chiefs, with whom he entered into friendly relations, and formed the acquaintance of THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 175 Tanacharison, or the half-king, who was subsequently his- ally and companion. He thence proceeded to the French, post, and was told by the commander, M. de St. Pierre, in a respectful but firm tone, that his troops could not retire, for he had received orders to occupy the place ; that his duty was obedience, and that discussion could be had only with those who commanded him. He treated the British envoy with hospitality, and gave him supplies upon his departure; yet, by some means, Major Washington found many impediments to his return, a considerable part of which he had to make on foot with but one companion > carrying on his back his knapsack, containing some papers and his food, with a gun in hand, amidst falling snow and over thickening ice, and having only by great ingenuity and exertion escaped the treachery of some Indians. Upon his return he delivered the answer of the French commander, and placed his own journal in the hands of the governor ; and it was clearly ascertained that a case had arisen in which force must be repelled by force. This journal was not only printed in Virginia, but also by the directions of the English government it was published in Europe, and was highly commended in each place. Major Washington was appointed to command a force of two- hundred men, who were to proceed to the Ohio and erect a fort at the spot which he had indicated. Captain Trent was appointed to command one of the companies. He was directed to go forward and raise his company by enlisting the traders accustomed to the Indians and the woods ; to proceed to the fork of the Ohio, and commence the fort. Washington, at Alexandria, waited to assemble the remainder of the troops, to organize them, to collect supplies and to send them forward, together w r ith the cannon to be mounted in the fort. The Legislature of Virginia, upon its meeting, increased the force to six companies, under the command of Colonel Fry, making Washington lieutenant-colonel. The British government also authorized the governor of Virginia to call 176 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. upon New York for two companies of continental troops and upon South Carolina for one. The officers of such companies held their commissions, not from the colonial government, but from the crown, which caused them to claim an exemption from the authority of the colonial offi- cers, and to be regarded more in the light of an allied or auxiliary force, than as men to be commanded. On the 20th of April, 1754, Col. Washington arrived at Will's Creek, which was then the border of civilization, with three companies under his command. Here he learned that Captain Trent's men had been summoned, by an immensely superior French force, to capitulate and retire from the fort which they were erecting. The French having pos- sessed themselves of it, in compliment to their governor called it Fort Du Quesne. Col. Fry had not arrived Wash- ington's own force was very small a wilderness was before him, with an opposing army far more numerous, well organized, and already habituated to the country, ready to fall upon him, he knew not at what moment or in what place. He held a council of war and determined to pro- ceed to the erection of a fort upon another spot on the Monongahela. Thus, at all events, would his men be em- ployed, the bane of idleness be removed, and by the con- structions necessary for their advance, a road would be opened for those who would follow, whilst they themselves would be at least approaching to the attainment of their object. He sent expresses to the governors of Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania, advising them of his situation, and request- ing reinforcements. As this was his first campaign, I shall dwell upon it; for here we shall perceive his qualities as a commander, as fully developed as will be necessary to exhibit his char- acter in that position. His determination to advance shows none of the rashness or impetuosity of the unthinking brave ; it was the result of deliberation and counsel, and for sufficient reasons. To retreat would have been a degrading abandonment of his duty, a betraying of the THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 177 trust reposed in him; it would have stricken a panic into liis men, from which they could not be recovered; it would have given to the enemy confidence, time, and undisturbed possession ; and would have totally bewildered the colonial councils, whilst the Indians would have been gained over by the French. Did he remain where he was, nearly all these effects would have been equally the result; at all events, his troops would have been idle and discontented; they would have lost all confidence in him, and did they not desert him on the first failure of supplies, insubordi- nation and plunder would have left him despised and powerless, the butt of a mob, not the commander of sol- diers. As it was, from the neglect of the commissaries, provisions failed upon their march. Besides the perplexity of this misfortune, he had to overcome the difficulties of exploring his way and of constructing his road. He was, on those occasions, himself the pioneer, who, with a few attendants, penetrated the recesses of the forest, to learn how a swamp might be avoided ; or he encountered, in a canoe or on a raft, the perils of an unexplored river, to discover its obstructions or its falls, to ascertain where it was fordable, or where a bridge could be placed. What patience, ingenuity, judgment, and perseverance was neces- sary for such an expedition! This was the school to which Providence led him, that he might be taught for a period of equal difficulties upon a more extended scale and for a nobler purpose. Not to secure for one monarch rather than for another the nominal and useless sovereignty over the wild hunting grounds, which as Tanacharison, speaking of the French and English, told both parties, "the Great Being above allowed to be the residence for him and his people," but to redeem the people of a continent from the dictation of a distant island, and casting off the bands with which it was sought to confine them, leave them to exercise those facul- ties and those powers with which God had endowed them, with that freedom which is the right of every nation, and 19 178 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. by whose proper use she can better secure her happiness, than she can by any foreign direction. As he advanced towards the Monongahela, he received notice from Tanacharison that the French had sent a party out from their fort, who had determined "to strike the Eng- lish" should they be met with. Soon afterwards he received another message that the French was advanced to within fifteen miles of him. Knowing his situation, he thought it better to choose his field, and accordingly drew his little force to a place called the Great Meadows ; and having cleared it as well as circumstances would allow, he threw up an entrenchment, nearly protected on three sides by a stream, and sufficiently distant from the wood to require that an assailant should show his men upon the open ground. He sent out scouts mounted on his wagon horses to reconnoitre ; but they returned without having made any discovery. His camp was, however, alarmed during the night; his sentinels fired, and his men were kept under arms till morning. A respectable settler then came in with information that a French detachment of fifty men had been at his place on the previous day, and that he had dis- covered their tracks within five miles of the camp. In the early part of the next night another express arrived from the Indian, who was within about six miles of the Great Meadows with his people, stating that the French were in his vicinity, and that he had seen two tracks. Within an hour after this arrival, Washington, at the head of forty men, left the camp in the midst of torrents of rain, on one of the darkest nights that could be imagined. The soldiers strayed from the path, frequently lost their way, climbed over fallen trees and opposing rocks, and stumbled over each other; *and it took them as many hours to reach the Indian station, as they had miles to pass over. It was nearly sunrise when they arrived. The occurrence of this day was in many ways remarka- ble. It was a battle between the troops of two nations actually at peace. The force engaged was small, but it THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 179 was the commencement of a contest which deprived France of one of her most important colonies, after the vicissitudes of nearly seven years of war. It was the military essay of a young man who was destined to lead the armies of half u continent, struggling for that freedom which it was to achieve, against the efforts of that nation on whose behalf he was now himself engaged; but that freedom was not to be obtained without the aid of that country against which he was then armed. Such are the vicissitudes of human affairs. But this was also, for the character of Washington, an event, the proper understanding of whose circumstances is of peculiar importance. It is the only bat- tle in which he was engaged which even an enemy ven- tured to point out as unjustifiable carnage. It was stated in Europe that M. de Jumonville, who commanded, was not an officer sent for a hostile purpose, but an ambassador sent on an errand of a peaceful char- acter; that a rash, impetuous, and inexperienced youth wan- tonly assailed and cruelly murdered the envoy and his attendants. Let us examine the case. This statement was made in Europe by the diplomatists of France, at a moment when they were engaged with those of England, apparently seeking to adjust their differences, but really, it is believed, seeking a colorable pretext for war. The French had made their preparations already in America to surround the British colonies, and to confine them, as nearly as they could, from extending to the west. It was, according to the rules of what is called diplomacy, the business of the French agents to create the impression that England had given occasion for their hostile movements, and this occurrence furnished the pretext they sought. 1 Let us now see Washington's position. Fully aware of the objects of the French, from his previous interview, i No excuses can absolve the British government from the crime of their iniqui- tous invasion cf the rights of France, whose sons had purchased, by their toil and blood, the territory of the Mississippi valley. 180 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. when he had gone, unaccompanied by a retinue of soldiers, to deliver a letter and to hold a discussion with the prin- cipal officer of the force that was making descents and settlements within what the English regarded as their lands, he not only found his remonstrances useless, but he saw the aggressions extended. Commissioned and sent out by his own government, with an armed force, to repel this invasion and to protect its limits, he finds a portion of his command dispossessed of a fort which they had been erecting, his troops threatened with violence if they did not yield. He finds, by the report of his scouts, that an armed baud - was advancing still farther into his country that they were hovering about his camp. He is informed by his Indian allies, .that their avowed object is to attack the English. His camp is alarmed. By whom? It is true that a few of, his men had deserted, but surely deserters are not found lurking round the spot where capture and punishment would be the probable result. He consults Tanacharison. He discovers that this armed band has with- drawn from the common road, which peaceful envoys travel, and lay in a concealed and well-protected retreat, like invaders, and had sent scouts to observe the British posi- tion. This fact was ascertained by the discovery of their tracks. Messengers had also been sent back by them to the main body of their force, clearly to carry information, probably to call for an advance of larger numbers. Is he to await the arrival of an army superior in force, and permit the object which he had been selected to accom- plish, to be lost? Is he to permit himself to be trifled with and overreached ? His ally, who had means of infor- mation, assures him that their intention is hostile. There is but one course open for him. He plans the mode of attack, should it be necessary, yet he leaves an opportunity to the others to see and to explain. He advances against the position of the armed invaders. They are discovered; lie is himself at the head of his little detachment; he is seen. The ambassador, of course, will now show his THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 181 symbol of friendship will demand protection, and seek to attain the end of his mission. Washington advances, and he is received, not with the etiquette of an envoy, but with the warning of loaded muskets. He is prepared, and the return is quickly made. The whole effort of the assailants, for such are they to whom he is opposed, is directed against the Virginians ; the Indian is left unassailed. If the commander and ten of his soldiers have lost their lives before the surviving twenty-two have called for quarter, they have fallen victims either to their duty, if they were enemies, or to their folly, if they were friends. It is true, that in the pocket of the commander there was found a dictatorial summons to the English commander, leaving him the only option of retiring peaceably east of the Allegha- nies, or of being compelled by force to do so. Some of the ambassador's officers asserted, when they were prisoners, that they had never seen the document, and they censured its style. However, they said many other things, which Washington declared not to be facts. The captured men were sent prisoners to Governor Dinwiddie, who approved of Washington's conduct. He wrote to the Governor that he was certain of being attacked by a superior force, as soon as the French should learn what had occurred ; that, in his present situation he would be unable to hold his ground against them. He could only assure him that he would not be taken by surprise ; and would not retreat or surrender whilst the slightest prospect existed of being able to make a useful or an honorable resistance. The succors he received were small ; the want of supplies, especially of provisions, was very trying. The distinctions in pay and in rank between the officers of the colony and those of the crown were unfortunate and paralyzing, and would have produced worse consequences but for the good sense, the moderation, and kindly feeling that existed between Colonel Washington and Captain Mackay, w r ho commanded, under a royal commis- sion, the only contingent from another State that took the 182 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. field. South Carolina, always ready to take her place in the day of peril and at the post of honor, sent her hun- dred men to share the sufferings and the dangers of this campaign which terminated by the capitulation of the colonial troops to a superior force of the French, who, during nine hours, had endeavored, on the 3d of July, to get possession of Fort Necessity; for so was this hastily erected fortification on the Great Meadows called, and on the next day its defenders marched out, with the honors of war, to return home. The commander and his soldiers, besides the consciousness of having done their duty, had also the thanks of the council, the burgesses and the public. The prudence, the address, the courage, the patience, firmness, and love of discipline of Washington, were uni- versally acknowledged with well-merited eulogy. The blunders and the difficulties arising from the arrangements of rank, to which I have before alluded, caused Washington to decline accepting a commission which was offered him by Governor Sharpe, of Maryland, who had been lately appointed by the king of England com- mander-in-chief of the forces against the French. In de- clining the offer, he added: "I shall have the consolation of knowing that I have opened the way, when the small- ness of our numbers exposed us to the attacks of a superior enemy; and that I have had the thanks of my country for the services I have rendered." The agency of this man, as he advanced in life, upon a more extended field, in more elevated stations, and amongst persons of more importance, necessarily attracts more attention, and surrounds him with a brighter halo of glory ; but the individual is himself unchanged. From the first moment to the last, it is George Washington! Hence it is not my intention to trespass upon your patience by a recital of facts, with which you are well acquainted, nor by leading you through those revolutionary fields whose names are as familiar to your mouths and to your ears as household words. THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 183 You know that he accepted the invitation of the brave but unfortunate Braddock, to be one of his military family. I need not inform you of its results. How Washington escaped, on that day which witnessed the almost total ruin of a fine army, I think is attributable only to a special Providence. When the two aids of the general were dis- abled he alone was engaged in the duty of distributing the orders. He is seen everywhere on horseback, in the hour of carnage, an object easily marked, and by no means unimportant. He wrote to his brother: a By the all-pow- erful dispensation of Providence, I have been protected beyond all human probability or expectation ; for I had four bullets through my coat, and two horses shot under me. Yet I escaped unhurt, although death was leveling my companions on every side of me." It is true, that in this action, though unexpectedly attacked, and his veteran European soldiers thrown into inextricable confusion, General Braddock and his officers behaved with the utmost courage, "and used every effort to rally the men, and bring them to order, but all in vain. In this state they continued nearly three hours, huddling together in confused bodies, firing irregularly, shoot- ing down their own officers and men, and doing no per- ceptible harm to the enemy. The Virginia provincials were the only troops who seemed to retain their senses, and they behaved with a bravery and resolution worthy of a better fate. They adopted the Indian mode, and fought each man for himself behind a tree. This was prohibited by the general, who endeavored to form his men into platoons and columns, as if they had been manceuvering on the plains of Flanders. Meantime the French and Indians, concealed in the ravines and behind trees, kept up a deadly and un- ceasing discharge of musketry, singling out their objects, taking deliberate aim, and producing a carnage almost un- paralleled in the annals of modern warfare. More than half of the whole army, which had crossed the river in so proud an array only three hours before, were killed or 184 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. wounded. The general himself received a mortal wound, and many of his best officers fell by his side." "A report has been long current in Pennsylvania that Braddock was shot by one of his own men, founded on the declaration of a provincial soldier, who was in the action. There is another tradition, also worthy of notice, which rests on the authority of Dr. Craik, the intimate friend of Washington from his boyhood to his death, and who was with him at the battle of the Monongahela. Fifteen years after that event they traveled together on an expedition to the western country, with a party of woods- men, for the purpose of exploring wild lands. While near the junction of the Great Kanawha and Ohio rivers a company of Indians came to them with an interpreter, at the head of whom was an aged and venerable chief. This personage made known to them, by the interpreter, that hearing Colonel Washington was in that region, he had come a long way to visit him, adding, that during the battle of the Monongahela, he had singled him out as a conspicuous object, fired his rifle at him many times, and directed his young warriors to do the same, but to his utter astonishment, none of their balls took effect. He was then persuaded that the youthful hero was under the special guardianship of the Great Spirit, and ceased to fire at him any longer. He M'as now come to pay homage to the man who was the particular favorite of heaven, and who could never die in battle." It is thought that if Braddock had been attentive to the counsel of his Virginia aid, the result would have been different. Washington's sufferings, his services, and his suc- cess, when subsequently called from his retirement by his country, to assume the command of the Virginia forces, and to aid General Forbes, served still further, during three years, to manifest his good qualities, and to prepare him better for the great work which he was destined, at a future day, to achieve. In January, 1759, after having resigned his commission, when lie had made his troops THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 185 efficient, and had been crowned with success in his enter- prise, he prepared to spend the remainder of his days in, private life. Upon his marriage he received a great acces- sion to his property, besides being united to a companion whose affection for him and whose domestic virtues exceeded even the meed of reputation which she had obtained for more brilliant though less valuable qualities. Forty years of vicissitudes always showed their mutual regards, not, perhaps, altogether unchanged, but if altered, they were increasing in respect and affection. Whenever his keen sense of public duty allowed him a short respite from his laborious employments, he sought, with renovated eagerness, the cheerful society of his home and the pleasing occupa- tion of superintending his domestic concerns. This proved his unambitious disposition and the excellence of his family circle. Firm and sufficiently forward, when the good of his conntry required it, he was as ready to face her foes in the field as he was to expostulate with her governors when he had to point out their oversight or neglect, as it was frequently necessary, in vindicating what was due to his officers and soldiers, and in requiring what was de- manded by his circumstances to insure the attainment of the public safety. He was always ready to sacrifice his own private claims, t forego what w r ere his just recompenses, and to shun public honors. Whilst he was engaged in the field at the close of his services, he was . elected by the county of Frederick to a seat in the House of Burgesses of Virginia. Upon his return, whilst attending the session in his place, Mr. Robinson, the speaker, by direction of the assembly, returned thanks to the young hero; but unused to such a position, and confounded at the sound of his eulogy, he stood unable to reply until the speaker reliev- ing him by a still higher compliment, ingeniously added, from the inspiration of truth : " Sit down, Mr. Washington ; your modesty equals your valor, and that surpasses the power of any language that I possess." He was now twenty-seven years of age, and with the 186 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. exception of his attendance as a legislator at the sessions of the Assembly, he kept, as far as possible, secluded from public life; occupied at Mount Yernon in the improve- ment of agriculture, the exercise of a generous hospitality, and finding relaxation in the intercourse with his neighbors and his loved relatives, with respectable and polished strangers whom his early fame had attracted to visit at his mansion. His chief enjoyment was in the domestic circle, and an occasional indulgence in the sports of the field ; the excitement, the labor, and the exposure of which had been rendered in a great measure necessary by his previ- ous occupations and habits from his very boyish days. Nor could he refuse the benefit of his judgment and the weight of his integrity to the solicitations of many who preferred in their difficulties being guided by his advice and de- cisions, to litigating their claims before public tribunals. I believe we may safely say, that few members of society are more useful than an independent and upright country gentleman, who is thus the protector of his family, the cultivator of the soil, the model of his neighbors for good conduct, the harbinger of peace in contentions, the patri- arch, whose feelings of kindly interest are engaged for the welfare of his servants, and who, from a sense of duty, disinterestedly and without any selfish projects or party techemes, devotes a due share of his time and of his atten- tion, in proper place, to the public business of the State. Such was the manner in which twelve or fourteen years of his life now passed away. Such is the way in which he desired it should continue to its termination. It was, however, not so decreed in the order of Provi- dence. Great Britain undertook to impose taxes without their own consent upon the colonies. The amount was im- material the principle was everything. Admit that it may be done to the amount of one cent in the year, what is to restrain the imposition? From the first moment, Wash- ington saw what must be the result if the effort was con- tinued, and he declared it as plainly as he saw it; when THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 187 that declaration was necessary it might be useful. He could scarcely persuade himself that Great Britain would persist. He expressed his hopes that she would not ; and cherished, as far as he could, that expectation in the bosom of his friends. He knew well that resistance must end in revo- lution; revolution in civil war. He abhorred the desola- tion of his country, the havoc of his people, the thousand evils which accompany and succeed the bloody strife. He ,had seen the pomp and circumstance of war. Never did he behold a more glorious and splendid pageant than when Braddock's men deployed in w r ell-set order, and moved forward in brilliant uniform, with shining arms glittering in a radiant sun, on the banks of the Monongahela. But before that sun was set, their gory limbs, their shattered arms, their mutilated bodies lay in terrible confusion on that fatal plain ; the moans of the dying and the wailings of the wounded were mingled with the blasphemy of the raving and the lamentations and the oaths of the despair- ing. It is the vain braggart who shuns the field where the contest for his country's rights is to try man's prowess, who too frequently makes a vaporing semblance of a vir- tue which he has not ; it is often the coward who wan- tonly provokes brave men to those lists, of which he con- tinues to be only a spectator. But that man whose soul is ennobled by true heroism, possesses a heart as tender as it is firm; he is equally ready to soothe and protect a child as he is to oppose and smite a giant ; he avoids exciting the bloody fray, whilst honor and justice will per- mit its being declined ; but when the battle has become his duty, his arm is indeed nerved and elastic, his eye is keen and discerning, he assails the haughty, but he lifts the suppliant, and he consoles the vanquished. A man who is truly brave is also truly generous ; he shudders at the ruin of battle, he endeavors to avoid its necessities ; but that necessity once established, he unflinchingly performs his duty. It is not, however, in the bloody field that the work of desolation is most extensive or most afflicting. It is there, 188 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. indeed, that the first blow is struck ; it is there the ruin commences. But though he who lies mangled and festering amidst the heap of victims that have been immolated to the Moloch of war, is now insensible to mortal grief or pain, not so the survivors. Separated as the iron soldier appears to be from everything that belongs to the affections of life and the ties of relationship, still he is a man, and bound to others with the most tender ligaments that twine around the heart. There lies one upon the field his blood still flows ; his wound indeed is mortal, but as yet all his soul is in him. Half elevated, he reclines upon the corpse of a comrade who shared in his toils, who partook of his confidence, who was charged, should he survive him, to bear the token of his affection to one far distant from that scene of carnage. "With an effort, he has succeeded in drawing that pledge from the bosom of his friend; and, whilst his arm rests upon his broken musket, what he meant to be a memorial for the wife of his youth, the partner of his affections, the mother of his children, is now for himself inseparably united with her image; it is grasped with a hold which even death will not relax, whilst his swollen and distended eye rests upon it. He heeds not the joyous shout, though it proclaims victory for his companions ; the wild tumult of flight is around him, but of this and of every other object on the field, save that one token, he is now regardless. His mind is far away, his recol- lection is of other years. His wife, his mother, his chil- dren, his cottage these are all present to his excited fancy. He seems for the moment to have some new, though melancholy, existence amongst them. The ebb becomes slow from his side ; that gasp is convulsive ; he awakes to a consciousness of his state ; a petition to his God ; an expression of contrition, of resignation, and of hope. His lips quiver as he prays for a blessing on those whom he leaves to the cold charity of a selfish world, as he dies upon what is called the field of glory. A grateful country decks the spot, indeed, with barren laurels, and the cold, THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 189 cold shafts of affliction penetrate the hearts of those who lived in the expectation of his return. "Who will protect his orphans? Who will soothe the mother? "Who will sus- tain the widow? Washington had witnessed with aching heart many a scene of this description. Generously did he minister to many a family thus stripped in desolation ; and therefore he was not a man to rush thoughtlessly upon a course that he knew must entail such miseries upon his country. He felt deeply the wrongs which the British government was perpetrating; he was one of the first to determine that they must not be endured ; but he sought, by petition, by remonstrance, by expostulation, by non-importation, to try whether it was possible to avoid recourse to arms. Yet, whilst he sought to restrain the violence of his friends, he had calmly and deliberately resolved to act and to suffer, and, if necessary, to die in organized resistance, upon clearly ascertained principle, rather than submit to a tyranny whose oppressions would far exceed even the disasters of battle and of death. It is a melancholy choice when one is obliged to take one or the other, in this exhibition of alternatives. It is a great relief when any other mode leaves a probability or even a faint hope, that by patience, by exertion, by time, by moral influence, an amelioration may be obtained, and the horrors of war may bo averted. This hope was cherished this principle was the guiding star of the patriots of the Revolution ; and it was not until every ray of parliamentary sympathy was extinguished, and that the royal eye no longer beamed upon the peti- tions that were laid even at the footstool of the throne, that Washington found himself in the gloom of hopeless- ness, and that he yielded to the dire necessity of inflict- ing upon his country the evils of military contest. Still his soul recoiled from it; and fully six years before the Declaration of Independence, his sentiments were expressed to a friend with whom he consulted in the following terms : "At a time when our lordly masters in Great Britain 190 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. will be satisfied with nothing less than the deprivation of American freedom, it seems highly necessary that some- thing should be done to avert the stroke, and maintain the liberty which we have derived from our ancestors. But the manner of doing it, to answer the purpose effectu- ally, is the point in question. " That no man should scruple or hesitate a moment to use arms in defence of so valuable a blessing, is clearly my opinion. Yet arms, I would beg leave to add, should be the last resource, the dernier ressort. We have already, it is said, proved the inefficacy of addresses to the throne and remonstrances to Parliament. How far, then, their attention to our rights and privileges may be awakened or alarmed, by starving their trade and manufactures, remains to be tried." Two other extracts from his correspondence, nearly five years later, will show the convictions of a mind that had long and maturely deliberated upon the subject. Writing to a friend who hesitated upon acceding to resolutions of a meeting in Fairfax county, at which Washington pre- sided, he says : " That I differ very widely from you in respect to the mode of obtaining a repeal of the acts so much and so justly complained of, I shall not hesitate to acknowl- edge ; and that this difference in opinion probably pro- ceeds from the different constructions we put upon the conduct and intention of the ministry, may also be true; but, as I see nothing, on the one hand, to induce a belief that the Parliament would embrace a favorable opportunity of repealing acts, which they go on with great rapidity to pass, in order to enforce their tyrannical system; and, on the other, I observe, or think I observe, that government is p.ursuing a regular plan at the expense of law and justice to overthrow our constitutional rights and liberties, how can I expect any redress from a measure which has been ineffectually tried already? For, sir, what is it we are contending against? Is it against THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 191 paying the duty of three pence per pound on tea because burdensome? No, it is the right only we have all along disputed; and to this end we have already petitioned his majesty in as humble and dutiful a manner as subjects could do. Nay, more, we applied to the House of Lords and House of Commons in their different legislative capaci- ties, setting forth, that, as Englishmen, we could not be deprived of this essential and valuable part of our Con- stitution. If, then, as the fact really is, it is against the right of taxation that we now do and, as I said before, all along have contended, why should they suppose an ex- ertion of this power would be less obnoxious now than formerly? And what reason have we to believe that they would make a second attempt, whilst the same sentiments fill the breast of every American, if they did not intend to enforce it if possible? "In short, what further proofs are wanting to satisfy any one of the designs of the ministry, than their own acts, which are uniform and plainly tending to the same point, nay, if I mistake not, avowedly to fix the right of taxa- tion? What hope have we, then, from petitioning when they tell us that now or never is the time to fix the matter ? Shall we, after this, whine and cry for relief, when we have already tried it in vain ? Or shall we supinely sit and see one province after another fall a sacrifice to despotism ? " If I were in any doubt as to the right which the Par- liament of Great Britain had to tax us without our consent, I should most heartily coincide with you in opinion, that to petition, and to petition only, is the proper method to apply for relief; because we should then be asking a favor r and not claiming a right, which, by the law of nature and our Constitution, we are, in my opinion, indubitably entitled to. I should even think it criminal to go further than this, under such an idea ; but I have none such. I think the Parliament of Great Britain has no more right to put its hands into my pocket, without my consent, than I have to put my hands into yours ; and this being already urged 192 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. to it in a firm but decent manner, by all the colonies, what reason is there to expect anything from its justice ? " Satisfied, then, that the acts of the British Parliament are no longer governed by the principles of justice, that they are trampling upon the valuable rights of Americans, confirmed to them by charter and by the Constitution they themselves boast of, and convinced, beyond the smallest doubt, that these measures are the result of deliberation, and attempted to be carried into execution by the hand of power, is it a time to trifle, or to risk our cause upon petitions, which with difficulty obtain access, and afterwards are thrown by with the utmost contempt? Or should we, because heretofore unsuspicious of design, and then un- willing to enter into disputes with the mother country, go on to bear more, and forbear to enumerate our just causes of complaint? For my own part, I shall not undertake to say where the line between Great Britain and the colonies should be drawn ; but I am Clearly of opinion that one ought to be drawn, and our rights clearly ascer- tained. I could wish, I own, that the dispute had been left to posterity to determine; but the crisis is arrived when we must assert our rights, or submit to every impo- sition that can be heaped upon us, till custom and use shall make us tame and abject slaves." This, in fact, embodies the whole principle of the Revolution. Whilst attending a meeting of the first Congress, of which he was a member, he received a letter from a former companion-in-arms, who held a commission in an English regiment then stationed at Boston. The following is an extract from the answer which he sent : "These, sir, being certain consequences, which must naturally result from the late acts of Parliament relative to America in general, and the government of Massachusetts Bay in particular, is it to be wondered at, I repeat, that men, who wish to avert tho impending blow, should attempt THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 193 to oppose it in its progress, or prepare for their defence if it cannot be averted? Surely I may be allowed to answer in the negative ; and again give me leave to add as my opinion, that more blood will be spilled on this occasion, if the ministers are determined to push matters to extremity, than history has ever yet furnished instances of in the annals of North America, and such a vital wound* will be given to the peace of this great country as time itself cannot cure or eradicate the remembrance of." He was also a member of the second Congress, which assembled on the 10th of May, 1775. Blood had been then shed at Lexington and at Concord; the Rubicon was passed, and though no formal declaration had yet been made, still the sword which smote the freemen of New England had severed the tie which bound that colony to the older land of freemen. An expression of John Adams indicated in a way too plain to be misunderstood, that, though her own sons were in the field, and had confidence in their commander, still she would sacrifice sectional pride to gen- eral advantage, and that in selecting the commander-in-chief of the continental forces, the name of a Southron, in whose prowess and prudence universal confidence was reposed, would be presented to the Congress. Washington, who had foreseen w r hat he desired to avoid, rose from his place and retired from the house, to leave their proceedings unembar- rassed by his presence. A day was fixed for entering into the selection ; and on opening the ballot-box, into which that baud of devoted patriots had cast their suffrages, not another name was found but that of George Washington. Next day he was found in his place in Congress, as a member from Virginia. When the president officially in- formed him of his appointment, he rose in his place and signified his acceptance. His words were few and appro- priate, but the following expressions show the unchanged features of his character : . "Lest some unlucky event should happen, unfavorable to my reputation, I beg it may be remembered by every gentle- 13 194 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. man in the room, that I this day declare, with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with." Nor were these mere words of course. His confidential and affectionate letter to his wife shows that he only yielded to a sense of duty, and looked upon the trust as too great for his capacity. How providential that it was to him it Avas confided! You know the history of that war which followed. You have appreciated, as you ought, his prudence, his valor, his courage, his privations and his endurance. You know what materials he had to mould into an army: men, who, in general, bore devoted hearts, but who were unused to dis- cipline, and not always patient of restraint ; men whose unshod feet often marked their track with their blood upon the frozen road, and whose tattered garments in the cold of winter showed that they needed all the fervor of their zeal for freedom to keep them warm in its defence. And amongst the ranks of those born in the country many a brave foreigner shared in the toil of the battle and en- dured the privations of the camp. Washington could see no difference between them in the field, and he made no distinction between them in his heart. Lafayette, Montgom- ery, Hamilton, Steuben, De Kalb, Pulaski, Manning and Jasper, are no inglorious names upon the roll of heroes of the Revolutionary war. Brightly do they shine amidst that galaxy of sons of the soil from every State of the old thirteen, that clustered in so mighty a multitude around that calm, steady and glowing light that outshone them all, and yet seemed to add to their effulgence. Well did they redeem that noble pledge which was made by men of every religious denomination. It was released, indeed, with the loss of many a life, and with the ruin of many a noble fortune, but by the preservation of their sacred honor. With that honor they also preserved and improved their liberties, and unshackled industry from the bonds of colonial restriction. To the lovers of enterprise and of im- THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 195 provement, and to those hardy children of labor who prize liberty, and are ready as they are able to defend it, they opened inviting passages to those western lands that have already received millions, and are capable of receiving mil- lions more, to make them teem with w 7 calth and be alive with population. But it is not my theme to enlarge upon what \vas endured in securing to us those advantages. The character of strategy pursued by Washington, as far as one so little skilled as I am can form an opinion on such a subject, appears to have been one of the most dif- ficult to execute, yet the best adapted to his circumstances, and, as it proved to be, most successful in the result. At the head of what may be called an unorganized mass rather than an army, and the parts of which this collec- tion was composed in a perpetual state of change, by reason of the short periods of enlistment without any well-regu- lated department of subsistence or of supply under a gen- eral administration which had, over thirteen confederated and scarcely formed republics, only that moral control which arises from common principles and common danger ; with many concealed enemies and hostile partisans in open and avowed connection with the enemy scattered through the land, the country itself but thinly settled; its settled por- tions open and badly provided for defence, intersected by large navigable bays and rivers, without any naval means of protection ; but on the other hand, his enemy, though in possession of the sea, at a distance from his resources, and though highly disciplined and well provided, yet unprac- ticed in partisan warfare and dreading an intricate country, "Washington found it to be his duty to turn his whole attention towards the establishment and the maintenance of discipline. For this purpose he had not only to exert his authority with great discretion and forbearance towards those under his command, but to use all his influence with the several governments, to induce them to correct their sytsem, to supply their deficiencies, to make pecuniary sacri- fices, and to sustain his efforts. This was the more diffi- 196 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. cult, as, even at such a moment, they indulged to a mis- chievous extent a jealousy, whose theory was just, but whose application at such a moment was unreasonable. They wished to give to the commander as little power as pos- sible, because they dreaded a military despotism ; and thus they sent him, as Sheridan expressed himself upon another occasion, with half a shield and a broken sword, to pro- tect them from their well-armed enemies, lest if the buckler were entire and the sword perfect, he might be tempted in the heyday of victory to smite his employers. It was not only in establishing discipline that his exer- tions were required. No man loved his soldiers better than he did, and his letters show the manner in which his soul was wounded at the sufferings they had to undergo for the want of the most ordinary necessaries. Yet, with this bitter feeling, was he obliged, as he calls it himself, to play the hypocrite with them ; to impress on their minds the obligation of cheerfully enduring everything for the great cause in which they were engaged. But whilst he thus encouraged them to unite with himself in suffer- ing, he earnestly, though not always successfully, appealed to those who ought to provide for those men who were the only bulwark between them and vassalage. His was not an ambition of glory. He sacrificed no masses of human beings in brilliant charges, that he might gather laurels from the spot enriched by their gore ; or that he might indite despatches filled with periods rounded by the swollen phrases of destruction. He weighed the value of every life entrusted to his discretion, .and would shudder at the useless exposure of even one. This course was dictated by prudence as well as by humanity and justice. By a Fabian policy his enemy would be harrassed and worn out, and his supplies would be more rapidly consumed than they could be increased ; whilst the Amer- ican forces would be improving in discipline, accustomed to action, confident in themselves, and preserved for those occasions when they could be usefully brought into battle. THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 197 But when an opportunity presented itself, lie made no calculation of what it was necessary to sacrifice, whether of repose or of life, to achieve what it would be ruinous or impolitic to forego ; though even on such occasions every precaution was taken, not only to insure success, but to obtain it with as little sacrifice of life as possible. Stony Point, Trenton, and Yorktown are striking instances of this policy. His aifection for his men caused him to feel keenly for those whom the enemy held as prisoners. At first the British officers undertook to treat them as rebels ; indignity, harshness, and severe confinement were inflicted, and it was said that these endurances would be followed by an ignominious death. In one instance, the British prisoners were marked out by him as victims for retaliation ; they were on their march under an escort to the place of con- finement, when they were overtaken by an express, who announced that General Washington could not permit him- self to do what even the usages of war had sanctioned ; that he could not punish the innocent for the guilty, and that he had revoked his order. He appealed to the nobler principles of the British commander, and frequently suc- ceeded; but his anxiety and his exertions on this score were unceasing and laborious. Never was his kindly feel- ing better manifested than when, in order to procure a mitigation of the suffering of General Lee, who had fallen into the hands of the British, and whom they chose to regard and to treat as a deserter, the Congress decreed that Col. Campbell, who was a prisoner in Massachusetts, and five Hessian field officers at Trenton, should be sub- jected to precisely the same treatment as General Lee ; he wrote to the president of Congress : "In point of policy, under the present situation of our affairs, this doctrine cannot be supported. The balance of prisoners is greatly against us, and a general regard to the happiness of the whole should mark our conduct. Can we imagine that our enemies will not mete the same punish- 198 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. ments, the same indignities, the same cruelties to those belonging to us, in their possession, that we impose 'on theirs in our power? Why should we suppose them to possess more humanity than we have ourselves ? Or why should an ineffectual attempt to relieve the distresses of one brave, unfortunate man involve many more in the same calamities? However disagreeable the fact may be, the enemy at this time have in their power and subject to their call near three hundred officers belonging to the army of the United States. In this number there are some of high rank, and most of them are men of bravery and merit. The quota of theirs in our hands bears no proportion, being not more than fifty at most. Under these circumstances, we should certainly do no act to draw upon the gentlemen belonging to us, and who have already suffered a long captivity, greater punishments than they have experienced and now experience. If we should, what will their feelings be, and those of their numerous and extensive connections? Suppose the treatment prescribed for the Hessians should be pursued, will it not establish what the enemy have been aiming to effect by every artifice and the grossest misrepresentations? I mean an opinion of our enmity towards them, and of the cruel conduct they experience when they fall into our hands, a prejudice which we on our parts have heretofore thought it politic to suppress and to root out by every act of lenity and kindness? It certainly will. The Hessians would hear of the punishment with all the circumstances of heightened exaggeration, would feel the injury, without inves- tigating the cause, or reasoning upon the justice or neces- sity of it. The mischiefs which may and must inevitably flow from the execution of the resolves appear to be end- less and innumerable." What, then, must have been his feelings when a stern sense of duty compelled him to permit the full execution of the sentence of an ignominious death upon the unfortu- nate Andre ? This is one of those melancholy instances where a man deserving of a better fate is, by the inscru- THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 199 table laws of Providence, so involved in the meshes of dif- ficulty, that it becomes impossible to extricate him ; and it is not only the eye of pity which weeps, but every noble and manly heart bleeds whilst the blow is struck, which, it is acknowedged, the sternness of justice cannot here be prevented from inflicting. Still, after the lapse of more than half a century, the feeling exits, which will, perhaps, always continue strong; regret that it was not Arnold who met a well-deserved fate from the hand of the executioner. Deeply as Washington felt for the privations and wants of his soldiers, he was, however, careful to repress insubor- dination. Witness the disbanding a large portion of the Pennsylvania line in the spring of 1781, which, though hav- ing cause of complaint, yet took an irregular and most per- nicious mode of seeking for redress. Still these men, in the midst of their misery, could not be made traitors by the allurements of the British general. They gave up to trial and to execution the emissaries who had the hardihood to enter upon their seduction ; and though worn down by toil and privation, they declared that they scorned to be Arnolds. The contagion of insubordination, however, had spread from them to the troops of New Jersey; but Washington was prepared. The mutineers were taken by surprise, compelled to parade without arms, two of their ring-leaders were tried by a field court-martial, condemned, and shot; and the spirit of sedition having been thus laid, the remainder made an unconditional submission and promise of obedience. The exquisite tact which he possessed was exhibited, together with his spirit of moderation and respect for the feelings of his brothers-in-arms, at the surrender of York- town. He had with him General Lincoln, who, in deliver- ing up this our city to the British after a brave resistance, had the mortification of being denied the full honors of war at its evacuation. In place, then, of appearing at the head of the united forces of America and France, with the air of a conqueror, to wear the trophies well won by his valor, Washington sacrificed this feeling to one more 200 THE CHARACTER OF WASHL\GTOy. noble and more exquisite, but to attain whose gratification is the privilege of few indeed. Lincoln had faithfully dis- charged his duty, and well merited the recompense which he on this occasion received. The British general, Lord Cornwallis, desired to stipulate for his garrison, that it should march out with all the honors of war and the cus- tomary privileges for its officers. Washington would grant only the same that had been allowed by the British gen- eral to the garrison of Charleston; and stationed Lincoln in an open space between the respective staffs of the French and the American armies to receive, in their view, the surrender of the British leader with exactly the same for- malities that had been observed when he made his own capitulation. Need I undertake to show that his ambition was his country's happiness, and not his own personal elevation? Advert to the proposal which was made to him at New- burg, where an army appeared but to wait his beck, to protect him in assuming a sceptre and a crown. His reproof contained none of that language of affectation which shows that a refusal is made only because the object appears to be unattainable, or for the purpose of having additional entreaty used to overcome the seeming reluctance of ardent desire He dearly loved and greatly esteemed the valuable men who shared in his toils and dangers. His big heart dis- tended with unusual emotions, when, on the 4th of Decem- ber, 1783, he entered the room in New York to bid a final adieu to the principal officers, his companions-in-arms. The tear flowed on each manly cheek; he grasped firmly in succession those hands that had sustained, together with him, their country's cause. The embrace was that of gen- erous soldiers and firm friends ; not a word was spoken. They followed him in mute procession to his barge. Being seated in it for an instant, he rose ; and lifting his hat, he waved it ; every head on shore was uncovered ; the splashing of the oar and its measured stroke alone broke THE CHARACTER OF WASHING TOX. 201 the silence of the tender, the respectful, the memorable separation of those men, who, in the face of death, had united to secure the independence of our country. It was on the 23d of that month he presented himself before the Congress of Annapolis ; and at the close of an appropriate address, said : * Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of action; and bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body, under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my com- mission and take my leave of all the employments of public life." He placed that document in the hands of the presi- dent and withdrew, as he fondly hoped, to repair the rav- ages which his property must have suffered, and to repose in the bosom of his family after the toils of such a tem- pestuous absence. It is unnecessary to inform you that he would receive no pecuniary recompense ; and here is a copy of the settlement of his public accounts. How he enjoyed and sought for the solace of private life is expressed in his own language to Lafayette : " I am become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac ; under the shadow of my own vine and fig-tree, free from the bustle of a camp and the busy scenes of public life, I am solacing myself with those tranquil enjoy- ments, of which the soldier, who is ever in pursuit of fame the statesman, whose watchful days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his- own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this globe was insufficient for us all and the courtier, who is always watching the countenance of his prince, in hopes of catching- a gracious smile, can have very little conception. I have not only retired from all public employments, but I am retiring within myself, and shall be able to view the soli- tary walk and tread the paths of private life with a heart- felt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all ; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my march, I will move gently down the stream of life, until I sleep with my fathers." 202 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. To General Knox he wrote : "I am just beginning to experience that ease and free- dom from public cares which, however desirable, takes some time to realize ; for, strange as it may seem, it is never- theless true, that it was not till lately I could get the better of my usual custom of ruminating, as soon as I -waked in the morning, on the business of the ensuing day; and of my surprise at finding, after revolving many things in my mind, that I was no longer a public man, nor had anything to do with public transactions. I feel now, how- ever, as I conceive a wearied traveler must do, who, after treading many a painful step with a heavy burden on his shoulders, is eased of the latter, having reached the haven to which all the former were directed; and from his house- top is looking back and tracing with an eager eye the meanders by which he escaped the quicksands and mires which lay in his way, and into which none but the all- powerful Guide and Dispenser of human events could have prevented his falling." A few years were sufficient to exhibit the imperfection of the bond which held the confederation together in the period of their struggle. It became inevitable that one of two alternatives should be embraced. Either the Union should be dissolved, or a new bond must be devised by which the* States would be in truth and in fact united. The convention was named; against his wishes, George "Washington was at the head of the Virginia list. Yet was he by no means unprepared; because foreseeing the possi- bility of being obliged to sacrifice his inclinations to his duty, he had seriously studied and analyzed the principles of the Lycian, the Amphyctionic, the Achsean, the Helvetic, the Belgic, and the Germanic confederacies ; he had also deeply imbued his mind with sound political information, and closely observed the forms of governmental administra- tion. It is not matter of surprise that, by a unanimous vote, he was called upon to fill the chair in that assembly; for surely none was more worthy to occupy it. Neither THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 203 could there be any hesitation when the States ratified the Constitution, and it became the expressed will of the people that it should be their form of government, as to who should undertake the task and have the glory of reducing its principles to practice. They had in the whole Union but one man who was, by universal acknowledgment, " first in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his country- men." And much as we complain of the injustice of the world, and rationally as we look for the recompense of virtue in a better state, still sometimes a mighty instance is exhibited of the good feelings and the sense of equity of a nation, where we may well use the words of the Trojan exile "En Priamiis! sunt bic etiam sua proemia laudi ! " He who ^-ould not stoop to be a king upon the sugges- tion of the soldiers, is raised by the acclamation of the people to be the first President of a free confederation, whose destinies are interwoven with the ruin or the resur- rection of a hemisphere. Assiduous in the discharge of duty, he encourages industry, he extends commerce, he regulates finance, he establishes credit, he organizes the departments, he selects and appoints the officers and superintends their conduct, he establishes the judiciary, he allays jealousies, he commences fortifica- tions, he arranges the army, he perfects treaties, he vindi- cates the national honor, he gives the example of a high morality, and thus occupied during eight years he sees his country eminent among the nations, and putting forth the germs of a rich prosperity. His work is now, indeed, accomplished ; but ere he retires from that station which raised him far above the thrones of emperors, he admon- ishes his children, for he is, indeed, the father of his country, of the difficulties by which they are surrounded ; and with the light of wisdom, the sagacity of experience, and the affection of patriotism, he teaches how these may be overcome or avoided. And, now, covered with the bene- 204 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. dictions of his country and the admiration of the world, he retired again to private life. There, after a compara- tively brief respite from the toils of office, he bowed down his head in resignation to the summons which called him from this transitory state, and passed to another world, leav- ing after him, not the empty sound of what is called an immortal name, but the mighty monument of that freedom which we enjoy, and the glorious bulwark of that Consti- tution by which it is protected. Fellow-citizens, I can speak no eulogy of Washington* Though separated from this world, he lives in the centre of our hearts ; his name is a talisman of power, the watch- word of freedom, the emblem of patriotism, the shout of victory. It casts around us a halo of glory, for it con- tinues to receive the homage of mankind. There have been many sages, there have been many heroes, there have been many legislators there is but one Washington. Gentlemen of the Washington Light Infantry, you may be justly proud of the name under which you are enrolled. But let it be to you, also, a solemn admonition to fulfill your obligations. Our volunteer companies are not formed for the mere purpose of idle show, of vain parade, nor for empty pageantry. The natural and safest bulwark of our C9untry's freedom is a well-organized militia ; the chiv- alry of that militia should be found in the volunteer companies. Yours bears the most glorious name for an American citizen soldier. You should emulate the bravest, the best disciplined, the most patriotic of those marshaled in your country's service. You should endeavor, with the noble rivalship of a soldier's honor, but with a soldier's affection, to permit no other company to outstrip you in the accomplishments of the armed citizen. For your country and its freedom ; for your country and its institutions ; for your own sunny South and for the whole Union ; for its peace and for its rights ; for your morals, for your disci- pline ; and, in that discipline the first and the last point, obe- dience to your officers ! Never has your company exhibited THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 205 any deficiency in this respect, and, therefore, it has always been efficient and respectable. You glory in the name of American, but you receive as Americans every one whom the laws of your country recognize as such. You have not deserted your posts, because the fellow-conntrymen of him who led your armies to the walls of Quebec placed them- selves by your side, to make common cause with you for that land which their acceptance of your conditions made your common country. France, Germany, Ireland, and Scot- land muster by your side, and with them you form a band of brothers; uniting, as your Washington has done, your whole force for an irresistible protection. Do not those flags wave over men who love to gather round your stars, to be guided by your eagle? When you volunteered to protect our brethren in Florida, were not the Germans your com- panions? Did not the Irish penetrate into its swamps? But why do I thus address you? Our generous South has fully imbibed the spirit of our hero ; and we know not these mischievous distinctions. A man loves not less the home of his choice, because he recollects the spot Avhere he first breathed. The soldier's contest of emulation is then noble, for it is equally free from the meanness of jealousy, as it is from the folly of miserable and mis- chievous distinctions. Xor did I need the proof which you have given, by affording me this day's opportunity of addressing you, to be convinced that the Washington Light Infantry possess largely that liberal sentiment which per- vades all our companies and most of our citizens. Thank God, no prospect of war now dims our horizon; but the best security for peace is the power of protection. Upon this principle you should not relax. The best regu- lated State is liable to unforeseen derangements, and no one can say when an emergency may arise. It is not when action is necessary that training should commence. The knowledge that you are ready will be the security for your repose. It was upon those principles that upwards of thirty years ago this company was formed by one of whom Car- 206 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. olina had cause to be proud; one whose talents were made useful by his wisdom; one to whom senates looked for counsel, and in whose integrity a continent confided. Wil- liam Lowndes, your first captain, your founder, perhaps par- took of the moral qualities of Washington in a larger degree than many who have appeared in the councils of the republic since the establishment of our Constitution; and how efficiently the officers who have since its forma- tion been selected have fulfilled the trust which has been reposed in them is sufficiently proclaimed by the compara- tive smallness of tkeir number. Your memory will easily pass them in review before you. To you has been confided, by the honored widow of a brave officer, one of the most precious relics of the Revo- lutionary war. There is the banner that was borne in the gallant charge at Cowpens, on the 17th of January, 1781, when the surge of confusion was arrested and the tide of war turned by William Washington at the head of his dra- goons. It then seemed a fiery meteor to the astonished Tarleton, when for the first time the spell of his success was broken, and he saw his veterans lay down their arms at the summons of the intrepid Howard. The glory with which it that day was radiant began to dissipate the gloom under which Carolina sat dejected; animated with hope, she roused herself to new exertion, and her Sumters and her Marions were again more active, more bold and more successful. Again, upon the field of Eutaw, it floated in triumph to the joyous notes of the trumpet which pro- claimed the retreat of the enemy from the last struggle by which they sought to keep Carolina in thraldom. "Never has it been disgraced in my husband's possession," was the short speech of Mrs. Washington, when she gave it to your company. The commander of the host that bore it through peril and in victory preserved it as a loved memorial at the termination of the war. General William Washington, at his death, left it in the possession of his widow ; and in the decline of her days that venerable matron knew of THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 207 no more valiant and honorable hands to Avhich she could confide its preservation than those of the Washington Light Infantry. Ten years have elapsed since it was presented to you through the hands of that Lieutenant Cross, who held one of the first commissions in your company with Captain Lowndes at the period of your formation, but who had command of the brigade on the day that he attended with Mrs. Washington to present it to your guardianship. When you are marshaled under that banner, with the love of your country in your hearts and her arms in your hands, you will be faithful to the confidence reposed in you your cry will be " Cowpens," " Eutaw," and " Wash- ington" your path will be the track of honor and of glory your history will be found upon the record of fame. DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 1 MY BRETHREN : The peculiar circumstances in which I find myself placed in this respectable assemblage are to me the cause of some embarrassment; for I look upon the situation in which I stand to be one of extreme delicacy. I am the minister of a religion professed by a minority of our citizens ; standing, by the permission of the pastor of a different communion, in accordance with the wish of some of my friends and their associates, members of the legislature of this nation, to address you upon the subject of religion. Whilst I know that I ought to speak freely, I also feel that I should avoid any unpleasant reference to those differences which exist between persons professing Christianity, except where the necessity of the case would demand such reference. And I am fully aware that as I am the first clergyman of the Church to which I belong who has had the honor of addressing you from this chair, it must be generally expected that I would rather speak upon some of the peculiarities of my own faith than con- tent myself with giving a discourse upon any general topic, that, as being common to all, would be to you matter of no special interest. But in order to arrive at the particular ground of this description, it will be necessary at first to examine the general principles of our religion ; through these the avenue lies, and through that we must proceed. Upon those gen- eral principles, I presume, I shall be found to accord with the great bulk of my auditors, though I cannot hope that 1 Preached In the hall of the House of Representatives of the Congress of the United States, on Sunday, January 8, 1830. (208) JJISUUURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 209 they will all agree with me in my details, or rather m my conclusions. I shall then commence by examining what religion is, that from this examination we may arrive at the proper place for making our further inquiry. Eeligion is the homage which man owes to God. This, and this only, is religion ; everything is embraced in this principle; no detail is excluded from this definition. Man's duty to God is, then, religion. Thus, to know what man's duty is, we are brought to examine his nature. That nature is two-fold spiritual and corporeal the spirit superior to the body, more perfect than the body ; the first duty of a religious man is to worship God, who is a spirit, in spirit and. in truth. But to know how this spiritual worship is to be paid by man to his Creator, Ave must learn of what man's spirit consists, or rather we must see what faculties it embraces. The first faculty of the soul is the understanding, by which we discern truth from error. Man is bound to worship God by his faculties ; his lead- ing duty is, then, to worship God with his understanding; and the great province of the understanding being to dis- criminate between truth and error, man's primary religious obligation is to labor for the discovery of truth, and to adhere to what he shall have thus discovered. Truth and falsehood are not, therefore, matters of indifference ; man's obligation is to adhere to truth and to reject falsehood. The exertion of the understanding for this purpose is then our first, our highest duty ; to neglect this is criminal. This investigation for the discovery of religious truth is the duty of every human being ; each person is bound to inquire to the best of his power; and he who neglects or overlooks his obligation is inexcusable. But it is not enough that the understanding is enlight- ened. It is not for the mere object of being acquainted with speculative truth that he should inquire. The second faculty of the soul is the will ; its determinations are formed with perfect freedom ; generally upon the knowledge which has been acquired ; hence the discovery of truth 14 210 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. should be pursued for the purpose of regulating the de- terminations of the will ; and the homage of this faculty is paid to the Creator by continually determining to act according to the la\v of reason, as it has been discovered after sufficient inquiry. Moreover, we feel within ourselves, and all mankind testifies to a similar experience, that after such a result we do not always act as we have determined. The allure- ments of the world in which we live, mutual example, and a variety of affections, desires and passions, interfere between the determinations of the will and the carrying of those resolutions into effect. But it is our duty to with- stand those allurements, not to be misled by example ; to regulate our affections and desires, to keep our passions in subjection to our reasonable determinations, and thus to do> in all things the perfect will of God, which must accord with the great rule of reason. Man is not wholly a spirit ; he is also a material being, having a body and living in a visible world, where his fellow-creatures are also in bodily existence. He owes to his Creator external homage with that body, as well as to pay to the Author of his whole being the worship of all its parts, as to give evidence to others that will at the same time satisfy them of his acting with due re- spect to the Great Father of all, as also to excite his brethren to religion by his own good example. Pure, un- bodied intelligences who worship before the throne of the Most High, in spirit and in truth, pay the homage of their whole being in mere spiritual adoration, because they are altogether and exclusively spiritual in their nature. Man, made less than the angels, bears about him a body which he has received from the Creator of his soul the dissimilarity of their natures destroys the analogy by which it might be sought to establish, that his worship should be in all things similar to that paid by a spirit having no material parts joined in his nature. The plain result of these considerations must be that it DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 211 is our duty to exert our understanding for the discovery of truth, to frame the determination of our will according to ascertained truth, and to carry those determinations into eifect, to bring our affections into accordance with reason, to keep our passions under proper restraint, and to pay to God. external homage. This is what we call natural re- ligion : for it is what nature and reason exhibit as our duty. If God never revealed His will to man, we should have those great principles only for ourj guidance to the fulfill- ment of our obligations to our Creator. But two questions naturally present themselves to us : Did God ever make special communications to any of our race? And if he did, could such revelation destroy or weaken the force of the principles of natural religion? To the last question an immediate answer may be un- hesitatingly given. No revelation made by God can destroy or weaken the force of those principles. On the contrary, such revelation must not only be in accordance with them, but would tend rather to strengthen them, and to give more precision to their application. God, the eternal truth, cannot be inconsistent with Himself. Truth cannot be con- tradictory to truth. Human reason is a spark emanating from the great fire of eternal truth ; though extremely lim- ited, yet it has proceeded from the infinite Deity; its slender ray may too often imperfectly exhibit what lies around us in the dark labyrinth through which we journey to the grave ; and the same objects would be more fully exposed to view, and more distinctly understood, if the effulgence of the Godhead poured its brilliant flood around. The objects then, by either light, would still continue unchanged, though their appearance would in each case be materially altered. What human reason clearly and fully discovers cannot be known otherwise by the intelligence of God, and His testimony by revelation would still accord with His testimony by human reason ; but too frequently we are disposed to conclude, that we are well acquainted with what we very imperfectly know, and we assert that reason tes- 212 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. tifies where it docs not. Hence there is created an appa- rent conflict between what \ve say our reason testifies, and what we state that God reveals. But the great duties of natural religion are equally enforced by "both. If we should find that God did make a revelation, there will not be anything found in that revelation to weaken the principles of natural religion. The first principle of each is, that man is obliged to exert himself for the discovery of truth. In a state of mere nature we would have only the testi- mony of our own reason ; in a state of revelation we have the additional aid of the testimony of God. Although the one is more extensive and more perfect than the other, still there can be no conflict between them. Daily experi- ence ought to convince us how limited is our knowledge. Yet our pride urges us to think that we can be acquainted with even the secrets of the Godhead. We certainly are not, and cannot be bound to believe without such evidence as will be sufficient to satisfy his mind. That evidence must be the exhibition of truth to our own reason, or our perfect satisfaction that we receive the testimony of God. Without this evidence no man is bound to believe. The humblest individual who walks the earth has not been sub- jected by his Creator to any dominion which can enthral his intellect ; he stands before his Maker as independent in his mind as does the brightest intelligence which scans the perfections of the Deity, and glows in the raptures of his vision. It is true that we are made lower than the ministering spirits who surround the throne of heaven. Yet we are not made subject to them. Nor is any man's mind made subject to his fellow man. But we all are upon this ground made originally equal ; all bound to believe God when He speaks, all bound to admit His infinite knowl- edge, to testify to His unerring truth, and to pay the homage of our submission to His declaration. Every creat- ure must bow every faculty before the Creator, but to the Creator alone. Thus we find the fundamental principles of revealed religion to be, that man is bound to pay to God DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 213 the homage of his understanding by believing Him when He makes a revelation. This belief is faith ; that is, the belief, upon the testimony of God, of truths or facts which unaided human reason could not discover. And since we should exert ourselves to discover truth, we cannot be excused from making the inquiry as to whether God made a revelation, and if He did what were His communications? Nor can it be to us a matter of indifference whether we take up truth or error for regulating the determinations of our will. If it was not beneath the dignity of God to stoop for the instruction of man, it cannot be a degrada- tion for man to raise himself to learn from his Creator. It is his duty to learn and to obey. The view then given by us of revealed religion is that it consists in believing God when He teaches us, and in obeying Him when He commands us, and of course adhering to His institutions. Whatever is the necessary consequence of this great prin- ciple we say is religion. Anything which is not embraced in this, is not religion. It may be superstition, it may be fanaticism, it may be infidelity, it may be folly; but it is not religion. Faith, then, is not folly, it is not abject slavery of the mind, it is not visionary fanaticism, it is not irra- tional assent to unintelligible propositions ; but it is be- lieving upon the testimony of God what human reason could not discover, but what a provident and wise Deity communicates for the information of our minds and the direction of our will. And surely there are a multitude of truths which are known to God, and whose discovery is yet beyond the reach of our limited faculties. AVe are surrounded by mys- teries of nature ; we observe innumerable facts, not one of which has yet been explained, and many of which would be almost pronounced contradictions, although known to be in co-existence. Man is himself a mystery to man yet the God who formed his body, and created his soul, plainly sees and distinctly understands all the minute details of the wonderful machine of his body, and is well acquainted DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. with his vital principle; the nature and essence of the soul are within His view. He is lifted above the heavens; His days are from eternity to eternity ; He pervades all space ; His eye beholds the worlds which roll in the firma- ment, and embraces the infinite void ; all things which exist are exposed to His vision ; whilst man, the diminu- tive speck upon a spot of creation, scarcely distinguishes the objects which dimly show within ' his confined horizon ; shall he presume to say that nothing exists beyond the narrow precincts of his temporary prison? Or, if the God of heaven declares some of the riches which lie scattered through His works ; if He vouchsafes to inform us of His own nature or of ours, that our relations may be more specifically understood ; our hopes more clearly founded ; our zeal better excited; our determinations better regulated, and our acts more suitably, and simply, and satisfactorily directed; shall stunted little man presume to say that perhaps he is deceived, because he has only the testimony of God, but not the testimony of his own reason? Does not his own reason tell him that God neither can be deceived, nor can He deceive His creatures ? Thus his own reason informs man, that the testimony of God making a revelation, is the- very highest evidence of truth the surest ground cf certainty. It might sometimes happen, that what is found to have been testified by the Deity contradicts what would appear, to spine individuals, to have been ascertained by the pro- cess of their own reasoning. Our principle is plain ; God cannot err, man frequently has erred, and is perpetually liable to mistake. If, then, we have certain proof of the declaration of the Creator, there can be no difficulty in arriving at the reasonable, the practical, the correct result; that result is again our great principle it is the duty of man to believe God when He testifies ; and the simple inquiry will be regarding the question of fact, " Has God testified ? " If He has, our doubts must cease ; our belief is demanded by reason and by religion. Indeed, they are DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 215 never opposed to each other ; upon patient inquiry they will always be found mutually to aid each other. The his- tory of the world presents to us the exhibition of the weakness of the human mind perpetually changing its theories ; perpetually adding to its stock of information ; fre- quently detecting its own mistakes ; correcting its aberrations, and proving its imbecility, whilst it asserts its strength. The eternal God, infinite in His perfections, is always the same ; in Him there is no vicissitude ; alone, changeless amidst a changing universe; His vesture and decoration He may change, but He is eternally the same, in His knowl- edge as in His truth; the heavens and the earth may pass away ; but His word cannot fail. \Ve are thus brought to the simple inquiry concerning the fact of a revelation. The truth of a fact must be always ascertained by testimony : that testimony must be such as ought to be sufficient to produce conviction of truth, before belief can be reasonably required. When that sufficient testimony has been adduced, to withhold belief would be unreasonable unreasonable rejection of evidence, where there is no question as to the revelation of God, cannot be innocent. The refusal to examine is plainly against the first principle of religion ; contrary to the plain- est maxims of reason. A mistake honestly made is par- donable, but the rejection of evidence must be irreligious. In - examining whether revelation has been actually made, we are met by a variety of preliminary difficulties, before we are permitted to enter upon the evidence of the fact ; but I should hope that a few plain observations would easily remove them. As I give but a very imperfect out- line of the ground of proof respecting this head, my object being rather to hasten forward to some specialties regard- ing that particular Church in which I have the honor of being a minister, than to dwell upon the general ground which is common to us all, they must be few. But there is a philosophy, which endeavors to stop our progress at this pass. Philosophy did I call it! No I was wrong to 216 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. dignify it with that appellation. It is a species of perplex- ing sophistry, which, clothing itself in the garb of rational inquiry, asks a thousand questions, to which neither itself nor philosophy can answer with satisfaction. They are questions which bewilder the mind, but cannot assist the understanding; they are fully sufficient to show the weak- ness of our reason, and to teach us to distrust ourselves because of the imperfection of our faculties. But urged too far, they might force us to conclude that we should make no exertion, because we are not omnipotent; that we should make no inquiry, because we cannot elucidate all that is dark; that we can have no certainty, because there are some cases of doubt ; and that we have no information, because there is some knowledge beyond our reach. That certainly does not deserve the name of philosophy which would only fill the world with doubts, and conjectures, and probabilities, instead of knowledge of fact founded upon evidence of testimony. Sophistry, having led you from your plain path and bewildered you in a labyrinth, by turns smiles at your folly, sheds the tear of mocking condolence for your degradation, and sneers at your baffled efforts to extricate yourself. Calm and dignified philosophy unfolds to you the plain evidence of facts ; and having fully estab- lished the truth of the fact, draws thence the irresistible conclusion ; thus leading in a way in which even fools can- not err. This is the path of religion. I may be asked, when will man know that he has evi- dence of fact; and how shall he know it? There are some questions which are more plainly answered by our conviction than by any induction. The feeling of the evi- dence is so strong that we can, by the very expression of the feeling, testify to others what they know, because they too feel as we do, and they know that we should, by any attempt at inductive proof, make perfectly obscure that which, without this effort, would be fully and confessedly evident. Ask me how I know that I have evidence of light being now diffused around me; how you have cvi- DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 217 dence that I now address you ; how we all have evidence of our existence ; who will undertake, by any process of reasoning, to produce a stronger feeling of conviction than exists by the very feeling of the evidence? Nor have we any form of expression which would carry more conviction to the mind than that which announces the feeling itself; each individual will know when that feeling exists within him. No speculation will aid him to the knowledge of the fact; and where the general testimony of mankind is given to the existence of this feeling, it cannot but have an inti- mate connection with truth. If it had not, the God who> formed our nature, such as it is, would have placed us under a delusion from which we could not be extricated ; and the assertion of this not only would destroy every criterion by which truth could be distingushed from error, but would be blasphemy against the Creator of the universe. Let us come to view how we ascertain the fact of reve- lation. If there is any special work which is so peculiarly and exclusively that of an individual, as that it can be performed by no other, the fact of the existence of that work establishes the fact of his presence; and if his pres- ence is a testimony by him of his concurrence in declara- tions then made, he is reponsible for the truth of those declarations. We believe miracles to be works above the power of created beings, and requiring the immediate presence and agency of the Divinity, and given by Him as the proof of His commission to the individuals or socie- ties whom He makes witnesses to men of truth revealed by Him. The feeling of the miracle being evidence of His presence for this purpose, is so general, and its tes- timony so fully given by the human race, as well by their spontaneous declaration as by their whole course of conduct, that it would argue in our Creator Himself a total disregard for man's information, if He permitted its- existence during so many centuries, and with such inevita- ble results, unless it were a criterion of truth. The same consequences would necessarily follow from a permission, on DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. the part of God, of a general delusion of mankind as to the species of works that were miraculous. When the feeling generally existed, and was acted upon most extensively during a long series of ages, that works of a peculiar description were emphatically miracles, and that the per- formance of those miracles was an undoubted proof of God's presence to uphold the truth of the declarations made in His name by the agents or the instruments used in these Avorks: the Author of our nature would be chargeable with aiding in our delusion, if He did not, as He could, and .as His perfections would demand, interfere to correct the error. Our next observation must regard the quantity of testi- mony which would be required to prove one of those miraculous facts. The assertion has sometimes been made, that more than usually would suffice for establishing an -ordinary fact, would be necessary to prove the existence of a, miracle. We altogether dissent from this position. The facts, in the one case, are precisely as obvious to exam- ination as in the other. Strange as the assertion which I am about to make will probably appear to many who have honored me with their attention, I plainly say that it will be found, upon reflection, that there is far less danger of deceit or mistake in the examination of a miraculous fact, than there is in one of ordinary occurrence. The reason is simple, and I believe natural and evidently sufficient. The mind is less liable to be imposed upon, when its curi- osity is greatly excited, and when its jealousy and suspi- cions are awakened, than when it is prepared to expect and to admit what it is daily, perhaps hourly, in the habit of expecting and admitting. Ordinary events excite no curi- osity, create no surprise, and there is no difficulty in admit- ting, that what has frequently occurred occurs again ; the statement of such an occurrence will easily pass ; but the state of the mind is widely different, when we eagerly seek to ascertain whether what has never been witnessed by us before, has now come under our observation, or whether DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 219 we have not been under some delusion; whether an attempt has not been made to deceive us. We, in such a case, become extremely jealous ; we examine with more than ordinary care, and we run less risk of being deceived or mistaken. No person doubts the power of the Creator, the supreme Legislator and Preserver of the universe, to suspend any law of nature in the course of its operation, or to select some individual case which He will except from the opera- tion of that law, and during His own pleasure. The ques- tion can never be as to this power, as to the possibility of a miraculous interference ; but it always must regard the fact, and that fact must be established by testimony, and without the evidence of testimony, no person who was not present can be required to believe. There does not and cannot exist any individual or tribunal, with power to require or command the humblest mortal to believe with- out evidence. There is no place in which the rules of evidence are better understood or more accurately observed than in our respectable courts of law. Permit me, for the moment, to bring your attention to one of those cases which frequently presents itself to the view of our citizens. There stands a citizen charged with the murder of his fellow-man. Long experience, deep study, unsullied purity, calm impartiality, and patience for investigati n, form the judicial character ; they are found upon the bench. Steady integrity, the power of discrimination, the love of justice, a deep interest in the welfare of the community, and the sanction of a solemn pledge to heaven, are all found in the jury. The public eye is upon them, and the supreme tribunal of public opinion, after an open hearing of the case, is to pronounce upon the judges and the jurors themselves. The life or death, the fame or infamy of the accused lies with them, and is in their keeping, at the peril of their feelings, their character, their conscience, and their souls. The decision must be made by the evidence arising from testimony, and 220 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. that the testimony of men, and those men liable to all the weakness and all the bad passions of humanity ; yet here, in this important case, a solemn decision must be made. That jury must be satisfied that the person now said to be dead was living, that he is now dead, that the change from life to death was produced by the act of their fellow-citizen now arraigned before them; that this act was done with sufficient deliberation to proceed from malicious intent ; that for this act he had no authority ; he who was deprived of life being a peaceable person, under the pro- tection of the State. In this there is frequently much per- plexity, and little testimony, and that testimony frequently regarding not the substantial ingredients of the crime, but establishing facts, from which those that form the in- gredients are only derived by inference. Still we find convictions and have executions, and the jury, with the appro- bation of the bench, and the assent of the community, unhesitatingly put on solemn record their conviction of the truth of facts which they never saw, and of which they have only the testimony of their fellow-men; and upon this testimony society agrees that property, liberty, life and fame, shall all be disposed of with perfect assurance of truth and justice. I will now suppose that court constituted as I have described, and for the purpose of ascertaining the fact of murder. A number of respectable witnesses depose to the fact of the person stated to be slain having been alive. They were in habits of intimacy with him, were his com- panions during years, some of them have seen his dead body, in presence of others who also testify to their having seen and examined that body ; those last were present when the prisoner, with perfect deliberation, inflicted a wound upon the deceased. There can be no doubt as to the identity of the deceased, and there is none as to the identity of the prisoner. A number of physicians testify their opinion as to the wound so given, and which they examined, being a sufficient cause of death. The accused produces no author- DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 221 ity for Ills act; there has been no process of law against the deceased, who was a peaceable and well-conducted citi- zen. How could that jury hesitate ? They must, painful as is the task, they must consign the unfortunate culprit to the just vengeance of the law ; the judge must deliver him to the executioner, and the public record of the State must exhibit his infamy. Life and character must both disap- pear ; they are swept away by the irresistible force of evidence, founded upon human testimony. The widow must hang her head in shame ; in the recess of her dwelling she must sit in lonely, disconsolate, unsupported grief; the orphans blush to bear their father's name ; the brothers would forget their kindred ; and perhaps even gray hairs would gladly bow still lower, compelled by grief and years to court the concealment of the grave. Still, when a fact becomes evident from the examination of testimony, we must yield our assent to that fact, with- out regarding its consequences. Let me continue my supposition. Before the dissolution of that court, whilst it is yet in session, the jury still occupying their seats a rush is made into the hall the same identical witnesses appear again ; but they are accom- panied by the deceased, now raised to life. They testify that, as they were departing from the court, a man, whom they produce, proclaimed that he was commissioned by the Most High to deliver His great behests to his fellow-men ; and that to prove the validity of his commission, he summoned them to accompany him to the tomb of the man whose death they had so fully proved, and that by an appeal to heaven for the authenticity of his commission, the man should revive. They went they saw the body in the grave the claimant upon heaven called upon the eternal God to show that He had sent him to teach his fellow-men. He calls the deceased the body rises the dead has come to life. He accompanies them to the court; he is recognized by his acquaintances confessed by his friends felt by the people ; lie speaks, he breathes he moves, he eats, he drinks, lie 222 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. lives amongst them. Can that court refuse to say that it is satisfied of the fact of the resuscitation ? What would any honest man think of the members of that jury should they swear that this man had not been resuscitated by the interference of that individual who thus proves his com- mission ? If that jury could, upon the testimony of those witnesses, find the first fact, why shall they not, upon the same testimony, find the second? But, we may be asked, how we know that this man was- dead? Probably it was only a mistake. He could not have been totally bereft of life. Ask the jury, who, upon the certainty of the fact of death, consigned their fellow-citizen to infamy and to the gallows. Shall we admit the certainty for the purposes of human justice, and quibble with our convictions to exclude the testimony of heaven? This, indeed, would be a miserable sophistry. "Would any court upon such a plea, so unsupported, issue a respite from execution? An isolated perhaps, with nothing to rest upon, set up against positive testimony, resting upon the uncon- tradicted evidence derived from the senses, from experience, and from analogy; a speculative possibility against a sub- stantive fact, by which the very possibility is destroyed ! Where is the cause of doubt? Where the difference between the two cases? In both suppositions the essential facts are the same life, death identity; the difference consists in the accidental circumstances of the priority of one to the other. The one is the ordinary transition from life to death, an occurrence which is to us most mysterious and inexplicable, but with the existence of which we are long familiar; the other a transition from death to life, not more mysterious but which rarely occurs, and when it does occur, is most closely examined, viewed with jealous scrutiny, and which excites deep interest, and to admit the truth of which there is no predisposition in the mind. The facts are precisely the same in the case of the murder and of the miracle ; the accident of the priority of one to the other constitutes the whole difference. And surely if DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 223 witnesses ~an tell me that a man who has never died shows all the symptoms of life, the same witnesses can tell me the same fact, though that man had passed from death to life. The symptoms of life are always the same, and the testimony which will establish the fact of life at one time, by proving the existence of those symptoms, will be at any time sufficient for the same purpose. The same is to be said of the symptoms of death and of the testimony which will establish the fact by proving their existence. It may be objected that no adequate cause is assigned for this extraordinary occur- rence. The answer is twofold. To be convinced of the truth. of a fact, it is not necessary that I should know the cause of its existence ; it suffices for me to know the existence of the fact itself, and its existence will not be the less certain though I should never be able to discover the cause. How many facts do we every day witness, whose causes are still to us inaccessible and undiscovered! Next: An adequate cause is here distinctly pointed out and referred to. He who first breathed into the nostrils of man, whom He fash- ioned from the dust, a living soul, is now equally powerful to call back the departed spirit to its mouldering tenement of clay. In the Mosaic in the Christian dispensation, what multi- tudes of miraculous facts attest the presence of the Deity the revelations of heaven ! During what a length of time were not those facts open to every species of examination ! How favorable were the circumstances for the detection of imposition, for the exposure of fanaticism, for the ridicule of folly, if the impostor, the fanatic, or the fool had claimed to be the messenger of heaven ! Thus we believe that our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ instructed man in the doctrines of truth, had authority to prescribe laws of morality, and founded institutions to which we are religiously bound unalterably to adhere. If the miraculous facts, which estab- lish this conclusion, are not in full evidence, I, for one, must profess that I must blot from my mind all that I have been ever led to believe were facts of history. 224 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. A peculiarity of our religion is, that we may at any moment risk its truth or falsehood upon the truth or falsehood of the statement of any one or the whole of a vast variety of facts. We know nothing of speculation, we know nothing of opinion. Opinions form no part of our religion. It is all a statement of facts, and the truth of those facts can at any moment be brought to the test. With this we stand or fall. Allow me to adduce one fact as an instance and an illustration. The Founder of our Church, the Saviour of the world, foretold the destruction of Jerusalem, and that not a stone should be left upon another of the mighty mass of the splendid temple. One of our prophets foretold that upon the establishment of the new law which we profess, the sacrifice should cease, and never be restored, in that temple. The sacrifice did cease the city was sacked the temple was destroyed: the Christians proclaimed that the temple would never be rebuilt, the sacrifice would never be restored. The Roman emperor Julian, having apostatized from the faith, was determined to humble the Church which he had deserted, and by establishing one fact to defeat their prophecy, to prove the delusion of the Nazarenes or Galileans, as he termed the Christians. With the wealth of the Roman empire, the power of his sceptre, the influence of his place, and the devotion of the most zealous people under heaven, he made the attempt. The whole Jewish people, animated with love of country and of religion, cheered by their neigh- bors, urged on by their emperor, flattered by his court, undertook the work. They rooted up the old foundations of the temple, until indeed there was not left a stone upon a stone ; they prepared to rebuild. History testifies their disappointment. Cyril of Jerusalem, a bishop of our Church, and Ammianus Marcellinus, the emperor's historian, a Chris- tian and a pagan, together with a cloud of other witnesses, inform us of their discomfiture. Centuries have elapsed. The prophecy and the attempt are both on record. To-day we say, as our predecessors said then : " Build that temple, DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 225 offer one sacrifice according to the Mosaic rites within its walls, and we acknowledge our delusion." But we cannot, for any speculative opinions of philosophers, abandon the evidence of miracles, of prophecy, and of history united. My brethren, 1 come now to a new part of my subject. "VYe have seen that our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ made a revelation to the human race ; our next and very natural inquiry must be to discover how we shall ascertain what that revelation is. This is the place where we arrive at the essential distinction between the Roman Catholic Church and every other; it is, indeed, upon this question the whole difference turns ; and to this it must be always brought back. The doctrine which, as a prelate of that Church, and from my own conscientious conviction, I preach, differs very widely indeed from what is generally professed and acted upon by the great majority of our citizens, and by a vast portion of the respectable and enlightened assemblage wnich surrounds me. I shall state our doctrine fully upon this head; but I do not feel that it would be correct or delicate on my part to enter at present upon the field of polemics for its vindication. Still it will be permitted that I give an outline, imperfect and defective it must be, for the cause which I have assigned, of the reasons for that faith which is in us. And here let me assure you that if, in the course of my observations, any expression should escape from me that may appear calculated to wound the feelings of those from whom I differ, it is not my intention to assail, to insult, or to give pain ; and that I may be pardoned for what will be in truth an inconsiderate expression, not intended to offend. Neither my own feelings, nor my judgment, nor my faith would dictate to me anything calculated to embitter the feelings of those who differ from me merely for that difference. My kindest friends, my most intimate acquaintance, they whom I do and ought to esteem and respect, are at variance with my creed; yet it. does not and shall not destroy our affection. In me it would be ingratitude; for I must avow, and I do 15 226 DISCOURSE UEFORE CONGRESS. it most willingly, that in my journeys through our States I have been frequently humbled and abashed at the kind- ness with which I have been treated. I came amongst you a stranger, and I went through your land with many and most serious and unfortunate mistakes, for which you were not blamable, operating to my disadvantage. If a Roman Catholic bishop were in truth what he is even now generally supposed to be, in various parts of this Union, lie should not be permitted to reside amongst you ; yet was I received into your houses, enrolled in your families, and profited by your kindness. I have frequently put the question to myself whether, if I had similar impressions regarding you, I could have acted with the like kindness; and I must own, I frequently doubted that I would. It is true, you labored under serious mistakes as to what was my religion, and what were my duties and my obligations. But you were not yourselves the authors of those mistakes ; nor had you within your reach the means of correcting them. I feel grateful to my friends who have afforded me this opportunity of perhaps aiding to do away with those impressions ; for our affections will be more strong as those mistakes will be corrected; and it must gratify those who, loving the country, behold us spread through it, to be assured, that we are not those vile beings that have been painted to their imaginations, and which ought not to be allowed existence in any civilized community. Upon our principles, my brethren, we must not speculate; we must always keep our eye steadily upon facts. The wisest man might be misled in speculation ; might make great mistakes in forming opinions ; but if he has evidence of a fact he has ground upon which he can rest with certainty; and the inevitable consequence of that fact pro- duces certainty also. Let us then look for facts instead of hazarding conjectures or maintaining opinions. It is a fact that our blessed Redeemer did not write His communications; it is equally certain that He neither gave a command nor a commission to have them written. It is a DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 227 fact, that His religion was fully and extensively established before any part of the Scriptures of our new law was com- mitted to writing. We therefore believe it to be evident that our religion was not established by the dissemination of writings. We have abundant testimony to show that our blessed Redeemer, besides having publicly taught the people, selected a few persons whom he more fully instructed and duly authorized to teach also. They were His companions during life, and after His death they were the promulgators of His doctriue. Their commission from Him was not to become philosophers, discussing what was probably the nature of God and the obligation of man, and examining what means they would esteem to be most likely to lead mankind to eternal happiness. They were constituted witnesses to others, to testify what the Saviour revealed to them, and to speak of positive facts with undoubting certainty; to state what He actually told, what He precisely commanded, what He positively instituted, and for what purpose, and what were to be the consequences. All this was matter-of-fact testified by witnesses, not discovered by disquisitions of philosophy. The teachers were not to add, they were not to diminish, they were not to change; the perfection of the revelation consisted in preserving the account purely unchanged. We find it is a fact that others were added to the commission of teachers. The very nature of the case exhibited the necessity of such addition, because the original commissioners would not suffice for the multitude to be taught. Natural reason pointed out the course which testimony shows us was followed. They who were originally constituted by the Redeemer to form the teaching tribunal, selected those whom they found best instructed, and being satisfied of their integrity by the testimony of those who had long known them, they were themselves judges of their full acquaintance with the truths which were to be taught and of their ability. They ordained them as fellow-witnesses, extended to them the power of the commission, and thus in every city were 228 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. chosen faithful men, who might be fit to teach others that form of sound words which had been committed to them- selves before many witnesses. The people who heard the testimony of the first teachers were also capable of observing if any deviation had been made by their successors. Those first teachers and their associates were scattered abroad widely through the world, but in all places they taught the same things, for truth could not be contradictory. Some persons sought after novelties, and separated from the great body, which itself remained united in government and in doctrine, though widely scattered through the world. Those isolated and independent divisions followed each some theory of its own, having some peculiarity by which each was distinguished from the other, each judging and deciding for itself, and each claiming to have preserved the true doctrine. This state of things existed almost at the very origin of the Christian Church, and has since continued more or less extensively. It was not until the eighth year after the ascension of our Lord, or the year 41 of our era, that the first part of the New Testament was written by St. Matthew, who was one of the earliest companions of the Saviour and an Apostle. Many of the Christians had committed to writing several facts and discourses which they had learned. Many of their accounts contained much that has never reached us. Some years afterwards, St. Mark, who was not an Apostle, but who was a companion of St. Peter, the president of the apostolic body, first in honor and first in jurisdiction, abridged much of what St. Matthew had written, and added much of his own, which lie had probably learned from St. Peter. Those books had a limited circulation amongst the Christians in some places, but highly as they were valued, they were not looked upon as the exclusive evidence of the doctrines of the Redeemer, and the very fact, which is of course incontestable, that a vast quantity of what we all now receive as His doctrine is not contained in them, but was subsequently written, renders it impossible for any of us to assume this principle. In the year 53 of our era, St. Luke, who was a physician in Antioch, and DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 229 who had been occasionally a companion of St. Paul, and had conversed with many of the other disciples and Apostles, began to write his Gospel from the accounts collected through others, and chiefly to counteract the circula- tion of many erroneous accounts which were written. He probably had not seen either of the two Gospels written by Matthew or Mark. About ten years after this, he wrote the Acts of the Apostles as a continuation of his history, and in it he principally confines himself to the account of the labors of St. Paul, as he was his companion, and had the oppor- tunity of observing his proceedings. Upwards of thirty years more elapsed before St. John wrote his Gospel at the request of the Churches of Asia Minor, in order to testify against the errors of several persons who then troubled those Churches with their speculations and imaginations. He had previously written his book of Revelations, being an obscure prophecy of some future events blended with history and vision. He had written some epistles to Churches and to individuals on particular occasions. St. Paul, in the dis- charge of his duties, had been sometimes consulted upon particular questions by Churches which he had founded or visited ; and some of his epistles are extant, in which he answers their difficulties, gives them instruction suitable to their circumstances, and makes several regulations. He also wrote on other occasions to Churches and to individuals, as did three or four of the other Apostles; some of those letters remain ; we are informed, and think it not unlikely, that many more have been lost. Thus, during the first century, it is a fact, that no such book as we now receive, called the New Testament, was used or adopted in the Church as the mode for each indi- vidual or each Church to ascertain what was the doctrine of Christ. The several portions of which it is composed had indeed been written and were used, but they were not col- lected together, and very probably no individual had a copy of the whole. But those were not the only books of the same description which circulated, for there were very many 230 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. others purporting to be Gospels and epistles ; and it would indeed be very difficult for any individual who desired to know the doctrine of the Redeemer, to discover it from books, in such a state of things. Another fact is also obvious : That in this century the Apostles and most of those whom they had associated with them in their commission died. During their lives, they were the teachers of the doctrine; they testified what Christ had taught, and it was by reference to their tribunal it was ascertained. But a question here naturally presents itself to us. Should a difference of testimony be found amongst those teachers, it is very evident that one of them must have, to say the least, made a mistake ; how was an honest inquirer after truth to know what God has revealed? It is plain, we say, that truth and error must exist in such a case, however innocent the erring party might be. And unless there were a very plain and simple mode of detect- ing that error, He who gave the revelation would not have provided for its preservation. And as this difference not only might exist, but did actually occur at a very early period within this same century, the evidence of truth would have been lost in the difference of testimony, and revela- tion would have been made useless almost as soon as it had been given. We say that the common rule of evidence arising from testimony would have been sufficient, when properly applied, to have detected the error. That rule is : Examine the witnesses fully as to the fact, and if the vast majority, under proper circumstances, will agree in the tes- timony, it is the evidence of truth. Our history exhibits to us, in the lifetime of the Apostles, the facts of the dif- ference, the examination, and the decision by this rule; and also the further fact, that they who would not abide by the decision were no longer considered as holding the doc- trine which had been revealed, but as making new opinions, and substituting what they thought ought to be, instead of preserving what had always been. We then find those who continued to testify the doctrine of the Apostles holding DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 231 communion with them, recognized as joined in their com- mission, and authorized also to extend and to perpetuate the same. Thus, although the Apostles and their associates perhaps a weakness of intellect, or a slavery of mind'; to- me it appears a much better mode of attaining its great object than to take up the Scriptures and decide solely for myself; better than to depend upon the authority of any individual, however learned, or pious, or inspired with heavenly knowledge, he might be deemed. I am not infal- lible ; but in virtue of my place I give my testimony ; T may err, but the majority of my brethren will correct that error. A few others may err ; still the testimony of the majority prevails thus individuals may separate from us r 'Consult here, for a clear definition and fnll exolanation of the infallibility of the Church and the Pope, Newman's answer to Gladstone, in the second vol- ume of "Difficulties of Anglicans." 234 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. but our unity and our testimony remains. "We do not profess to believe our Pope infallible. 1 We believe, that by virtue of the divine appointment, he presides amongst us, but we are fellow-witnesses with him. But this power of decision is by its own nature extremely limited. We are witnesses to our brethren, not despots over men's minds. Our testimony must be confined to what has been revealed; we cannot add, we cannot diminish. Such is the duty of a witness, such is ours. All the Popes and bishops, all the councils which have ever existed, or which may exist, have not and cannot have the power of com- manding the humblest individual to believe one particle more on the subject of revelation than what they testify God to have taught. When they exhibit what has been taught "by heaven, man is bound to believe. Let them say: " Besides this which God has revealed, we are of opinion that you would do well to believe this, which He has not taught, but which we think a very good doctrine." He is free to act as he may think proper, his belief would not be faith, it would be receiving the opinions of men, not the teaching of heaven ; this mode of teaching is never used in our Church. The decisions of our councils are the exhibition of the original revelation, not the expression 01 adopted opinions. So, too, the whole body of our Church cannot omit to teach any revealed truth ; she must teach all ; she must be a faithful witness ; neither adding, omit- ting, nor changing. In our mode of examining, although we believe the Founder of our Church made a promise of His divine guidance to protect our body from erring, we take all the natural means which will aid in the discovery of the original fact. We not only have known the testimony of those from whom we learned, and that of those with whom we associate ; l)ut we have the records of our Churches, we have the > It Is now, though it was not then, a dogma of the Church that the Pope, when speaking ex cathedra, or as the Pastor ternug, is infallible. Vids "Difficul- ties of Anglicans," Vol. II. DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 235 documents of antiquity. We have the writings of our ancient, and venerable, and eminent bishops and doctors, coming from every age and from every nation. We have the decisions of former councils, \ve have the monuments which have been erected, the usages which have prevailed, the customs which continue, and when we take up the sacred volume of the Scriptures, we collate its passages with the results which we gather from those sources. The prelates of our several nations make this examination in every quarter of the globe, each testifies what he has found in conjunction with those of his vicinity who could aid him in his research, and thus we obtain testimony of the whole world respecting facts in which the world is deeply interested. Can it be slavery in me to bow to the decision of this tribunal? Frequently, questions which have been long since decided in this manner are revived. Our answer in those oases is very short : " This has been already determined." We are told this is limiting the operations and chaining down the freedom of the human mind. Perhaps it is. But if the proper use of the faculties be the discovery of truth, and that truth has been already discovered, what more is necessary? When investigations have been made, and results arrived at, why investigate still ? You go into court to defend your property, you have your titles fully investigated, judgment is given in your favor, it is put upon record; a new litigant calls upon you to go over the same ground ; will not the record of the judgment against his father protect you ? Or must you, because he choose to trouble you, burn that record, and join issue again? We quote the decisions of former times as proofs that investigation has been already made, and that a decision has long since been had. And what has once been found to have been revealed by God, cannot by any lapse of time cease to be revelation. If the fact shall have been once fully proved, that proof must be good always ; if a record thereof be made, that record is always evidence. A political difficulty has been sometimes raised here. If 236 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. this infallible tribunal, which you profess yourselves bound to obey, should command you to overturn our government, and tell you that it is the will of God to have it new modelled, will you be bound to obey it? And how then can we consider those men to be good citizens who profess to owe obedience to a foreign authority to an authority not recognized in our Constitution to an authority which has excommunicated and deposed sovereigns, and which has absolved subjects and citizens from their bond of allegiance? Our answer to this is extremely simple and very plain ; it is, that we would not be bound to obey it that we recognize no such authority. I would not allow to the Pope, or to any bishop of our Church, outside this Union, the smallest interference with the humblest vote at our most insignificant ballot-box. He has no right to such interfer- ence. You must, from the view which I have taken, see the plain distinction between spiritual authority and a right to interfere in the regulation of human government or civil concerns. You have in your Constitution wisely kept them distinct and separate. It will be wisdom, and prudence, and safety to continue the separation. Your Con- stitution says that Congress shall have no power to restrict the free exercise of religion. Suppose your dignified body to-morrow attempted to restrict me in the exercise of that right; though the law, as it would be called, should pass your two houses and obtain the signature of the President, I would not obey it, because it would be no law, it would be an usurpation ; for you cannot make a law in violation of your Constitution you have no power in such a case. So, if that tribunal which is established by the Creator to testify to me what He has revealed, and to make the neces- sary regulations of discipline for the government of the Church, shall presume to go beyond that boundary which circumscribes its power, its acts are invalid ; my rights are not to be destroyed by its usurpation ; and there is no principle of my creed which prevents my using my natural right of proper resistance to any tyrannical usurpation. You DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 237 have no power to interfere with my religious rights ; the tribunal of the Church has no power to interfere with my civil rights. It is a duty which every good man ought to discharge for his own and for the public benefit, to resist any encroachment upon either. We do not believe that God gave to the Church any power to interfere with our civil rights or our civil concerns. Christ our Lord refused to interfere in the division of the inheritance between two brothers, one of whom requested that interference. The civil tribunals of Judea were vested with sufficient authority for that purpose, and He did not transfer it to His Apostles. It must hence be apparent, that any idea of the Roman Catholics of these republics being in any way under the influence of any foreign ecclesiastical power, or indeed of auy Church authority, in the exercise of their civil rights, is a serious mistake. There is no class of our fellow- citizens more free to think and to act for themselves on the subject of our rights than we are; and I believe there is not any portion of the American family more jealous of foreign influence, or more ready to resist it. We have brethren of our Church in every part of the globe, under every form of government ; this is a subject upon which each of us is free to act as he thinks proper. We know of no tribunal in our Church which can interfere in our proceedings as citizens. Our ecclesiastical authority existed before our Constitution, is not affected by it; there is not in the world a constitution which it does not precede, with which it could not co-exist ; it has seen nations perish, dynasties decay, empires prostrate ; it has co-existed with all, it has survived them all, it is not dependent upon any one of them ; they may still change, and it will still continue. It is again urged, that at least our Church is aristocratic, if not despotic, in its principles, and is not calculated for a republic that its spirit is opposed to that of repub- licanism. This objection cannot be seriously urged by any person who has studied history, nor by any person who 238 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. is acquainted with our tenets. Look over the history of the world since the establishment of Christianity, and where have there been republics ? Have the objectors read the history of Italy ? A soil fertile in republics, and most devoted to our religion ! What was the religion of Wil- liam Tell? He was a Roman Catholic. Look not only to the Swiss republics, but take San Marino this little State, during centuries, the most splendid specimen of the purest democracy, and this democracy protected by our Popes- during these centuries. Men who make the assertions to which I have alluded cannot have read history. Amongst ourselves, what is the religion of the venerable Charles Carroll of Carrollton? Men who make these assertions cannot have read our Declaration of Independence. What was the religion of the good, the estimable, the beloved Doctor Carroll, our first Catholic Archbishop of Baltimore, the founder of our hierarchy, the friend of Washington, the associate of Franklin? Have those men been degraded in our Church because they aided in your struggle for the assertion of your rights, for the establishment of our glori- ous and our happy republic ? No they are the jewels which we prize, the ornaments of our Church, the patriots of our country. They and others, whom we count as our members, and esteem for their virtues, have been the inti- mate and faithful associates of many of our best patriots who have passed from our transitory scene, and of some who yet view in consolation our prosperity. What is the religion of Simon Bolivar? What the religion of the whole population of our republican sisters upon the southern con- tinent? We are always assailed by speculation. We always answer by facts. Have we been found traitors in your councils, unfaithful to your trust, cowards in your fields, or in correspondence with your enemies ? Yet we have been consulted for our prudence, confided in for our fidelity, enriched your soil with our blood, filled your decks with our energy; and though some of us might have wept at leaving the land of our ancestors because of the injus- DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. tice of its rulers, we told our brothers who assailed you in the day of battle that we knew them not, and we adhered to those who gave to us a place of refuge and impartial protection. Shall we then be told that our religion is not the religion calculated for republics, though it will be found that the vast majority of republican States and of republican patriots have been, and even now are, Roman Catholic? It is true, ours is also the religion of a large portion of empires, and of kingdoms, and of principalities. The fact is so far an obvious reason, because it is the religion of the great bulk of the civilized world. Our tenets do not prescribe any form of government which the people may properly and regularly establish. No revelation upon which my eye has fallen, or which ever reached my ear, has taught me that the Almighty God commanded us to be governed by kings, or by emperors, or by princes, or to associate in republics. Upon this God has left us free to make our own selection. The decision upon the question of expediency as to the form of government for temporal or civil concerns, is one to be settled by society, and not by the Church. We therefore bind no nation or people to any special form ; the form which they may adopt lies not with us, but with themselves. What suits the genius and circumstances of one people might be totally unfit- for another ; hence, no special form of human gov- ernment for civil concerns has been generally established by divine authority. But the God of order who commands men to dwell together in peace, has armed the government which has been properly established by the principles of society, with power for the execution of the functions which are given by society to its administration. Whilst it con- tinues, within its due bounds, to discharge properly its constitutional obligations, it is the duty of each good mem- ber of society to concur in its support. He who would resist its proper authority, would in this case resist the ordinance of the God of peace and of order, and, as the Apostle says, would purchase damnation for himself. This 240 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. principle applies alike to all forms of government properly established and properly administered to republics and to kingdoms alike. It is then a mistake to imagine that our Church has more congeniality to one species of civil gov- ernment .than to another ; it has been fitted by its Author, who saw the fluctuating state of civil rule, to exist independ- ently of any, and to be suited to all. Its own peculiar forms for its internal regulation may and do continue to be adhered to under every form of temporal rule. But is it not a tenet of our Church, that we must per- secute all those who differ from us? Has not our religion been propagated by the firebrand and by the sword? Is not the Inquisition one of its component parts ? Are not our boasted South American republics persecutors still? And in the code of our infallible Church have we not canons of persecution which we are conscientiously bound to obey and to enforce? Did not the great Lateran Council, in 1215, command all princes to exterminate all heretics ? If, then, we are not persecutors in fact, it is because we want the power, for it is plain that we do not want the disposition. I would humbly submit, that not one of these questions could be truly answered in the affirmative. The spirit of religion is that of peace and of mercy, not that of persecu- tion; yet men of every creed have persecuted their brethren under the pretext of religion. The great Founder of. our Church, at a very early period, checked this spirit in His Apostles. When some cities would not receive His doc- trine, they asked why He did not call down fire from heaven to destroy them ; but His calm and dignified rebuke was, that they knew not by what spirit they were led; it was the spirit of human passion assuming the garb of heavenly zeal. I know of no power given by God to any man, or to any body of men, in the Christian dispensa- tion, to inflict any penalty of a temporal description upon their fellow-men for mere religious error. If such error shall cause the violation of peace, or shall interfere with the well-being of society, temporal governments, being estab- DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 241 lished to prevent such disorders, have their own inherent right, but not a religious commission, to interfere merely for that prevention. Each individual is responsible to God for his conduct in this regard ; to Him, and to Him only, we stand or fall. He commissioned the Church to teach His doctrine but He did not commission her to persecute those who would not receive it. He who beholds the evidence of truth and will not follow it, is inexcusable ; he who will not use his best exertions to obtain that evidence, is inexcusable ; he who having used his best exertions for that purpose, and having with the best intentions made a mistake in coming to his conclusion, is not a criminal because of that mistake. God alone, the searcher of our hearts, can clearly see the full accountability of each indi- vidual upon this head because each person must be accountable according to his opportunities. I feel that many and serious mistakes are made by my friends in this country. I know who are mistaken, but far be it from me to say that all who err are criminal. I have fre- quently asked myself whether, if I had had only the same opportunities of knowing the doctrine of my Church and its evidences that many of them have had, I would be what I now am. Indeed, it would be very extraordinary if I was. They labor under those mistakes, not through their ow r n fault in several instances ; and if the Roman Catholic Church were, in her doctrines and her practices, what they have been taught she is, I would not be a Roman Catholic. They imagine her to be what she is not ; and when they oppose what they believe her to be, it is not to her their opposition is really given. To God, and to Him alone, belongs it ultimately to discriminate between those who are criminal and those who are innocent in their error; and I look in vain through every record, in vain I listen to every testimony of my doctrine to discover any command to persecute, any power to inflict fine, or dis- qualification, or bodily chastisement upon those who are in mere religious error. It is no doctrine of the Roman 16 242 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. Catholic Church ; I do not know that it is the doctrine of any Church calling itself Christian ; but, unfortunately, I know it has been practiced by some Roman Catholics, and it has been practiced in every Church which accused her of having had recourse thereto. I would then say it was taught by no Church ; it has been practiced in all. One great temptation to its exercise is the union of any Church with the State ; and religion has more frequently been but a pretext with statesmen for a political purpose, than the cause of persecution for zeal on its own behalf. Christ gave to His Apostles no commission to use the sword or the brand, and they went forth in the simplicity of their testimony, and the evidence of their miracles, and the power of their evidence, to convert the world. They gave freely their own blood to be shed for the sake of religion, but they shed not the blood of their opponents. Their associates and their successors followed their example, and were successful by that imitation. And the historian. Avho represents the chastisements of infidel barbarians, by Christian princes, for the protection of their own people, and the security of their own property, misleads the reader whom he would fain persuade, that it was done for the purposes of religion at the instigation of those who laid down their own lives in the conversion of those barbarians. It is true, indeed, that we cannot call error truth, nor style truth error ; it is true that we say there must continue to be an essential distinction between them ; it is true that we cannot belie our consciences, nor bear false witness to our neighbors, by telling them that we believe they adhere to the doctrines of Christ, when they contradict what we receive as those doctrines ; we cannot believe two contra- dictory propositions to be at the same time true. But such a declaration on our part does not involve as its consequence that we believe they ought to be persecuted. The Inquisi- tion is a civil tribunal of some States, not a portion of our religion. We now come to examine what are called the persecuting 1'lzCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 243 laws of our Church. In the year 1215, at the Council of Lateran, certain heresies were condemned by the first canon; and amongst other things this canon recites as Catholic faith, in opposition to the errors of those whom it con- demned, that there is but one God, the Creator of all things, of spirits as well as bodies ; the Author of the Old Testament and of the Mosaic dispensation, equally as of the New Testament and of the Christian dispensation ; that He created not only the good angels, but also the devil and the bad angels, originally coming good from His hand, and becoming wicked by their own malice, etc. In its third canon it excommunicates those heretics, and declares them to be separated from the body of the Church. Then follows a direction, that the heretics so condemned are to be given up to the secular powers, or to their bailifls, to be duly punished. This direction continues to require of all bishops and others having authority, to make due search within their several districts for those heretics, and if they will not be induced to retract their errors, desires that they should be delivered over to be punished. There is an injunction then to all temporal lords to cleanse their dominions by exterminating those heretics; and if they will not, within a year from having been so admonished by the Church, cleanse their lands of this heretical filth, they shall be deprived if they have superior lords, and if they be superior lords and be negligent, it shall be the duty of the metropolitan and his provincial bishops to excom- municate them, and if any one of those lords paramount so excommunicated for this negligence shall continue during twelve months under the excommunication, the metropolitan shall certify the same to the Pope, who finding admonition useless, shall depose this prince, and absolve his subjects from their oaths of fealty, and deliver the territory over to Catholics who, having exterminated the heretics, shall remain in peaceable possession. This is the most formidable evidence adduced against the position which I have laid down, that it is not a doctrine 244 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. of our Church, that we are bound to persecute those who differ from us in belief. I trust that I shall not occupy very much of your time in showing that this enactment does not in any way weaken that assertion. I shall do so, by satisfying you that this is a special law for a par- ticular case ; and also by convincing you that it is not a canon of the Church respecting any of those points in which we admit her infallibility; nor indeed a canon of the Church. The doctrines condemned in this first canon originated in Syria, touched v lightly at the islands of the Archipelago, settled down in Bulgaria, and spread into the south of Europe, but were principally received in the vicinity of Albi, in France. The persons condemned held the Mani- chsean principle of there being two creators of the universe ; one a good being, the author of the New Testament, the creator of good angels, and generally of spiritual essences ; the other an evil being, the creator of bodies, the author of the Mosaic dispensation, and generally of the Old Testa- ment. They stated that marriage was unlawful, and co- operation with the principle of evil was criminal. The consequences to society were of the very worst description, immoral, dismal, and desolating. The Church examined the doctrine, condemned it as heretical, and cut off those who held or abetted it from her communion. Here, according to the principles which I have maintained before you, her power ended. Beyond this we claim no authority; the Church, by divine right, we say, infallibly testifies what doctrines Christ has revealed, and by the same right, in the same manner, decides that what contradicts this revelation is erroneous ; but she has no divine authority to make a law which shall strip of their property, or consign to the executioner, those whom she convicts of error. The doctrine of our obligation to submit docs not extend to force us to submit to a usurpation ; and if the Church made a law upon a subject beyond her commission for legislation, it would be invalid ; there would be no proper claim for our obedience ; DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 245 usurpation does not create a right. The council could by right make the doctrinal decision ; but it had no right to make the temporal enactment; and where there exists no right to legislate on one side, there is no obligation of obedience on the other. If this was then a canon of the Church, it was not one in making which she was acting within her constitutional jurisdiction, it was a usurpation of temporal government, and the doctrine of infallibility does not bear upon it Every document respecting this council, the entire of the evidence respecting it, as well as the very mode of -framing the enactments, prove that it was a special law regarding a particular case. The only persons whose errors were con- demned at that council were those whom I have described. The general principle of legal exposition restraining the application of penal enactments must here have full weight, and will restrain the application of the penalty to the only criminals brought within its view. But the evidence is still more confirmed by the particular words of definite meaning, this and filth, which were specially descriptive of only those persons ; the first by its very nature, the second by the nature of their crime ; and the continued exposition of the enactment restrained its application to the special case, though frequently attempts have been made by individuals to extend its application, not in virtue of the statute, but in virtue of analogy. It would then be improperly forcing its construction to say that its operation was to be general, as it evidently was made only for a particular case. In viewing the preamble to this council, as well as from our knowledge of history, we discover that this was not merely a council of the Church, but it was also a congress of the civilized world. The state of the times rendered such assemblages not only usual but necessary; and each legislative body did its own business by its own authority ; and very generally the subjects which were decided upon by one body in one point of view, came under the consideration of the other assembly in a different point of view, and their 246 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. separate decisions were engrossed upon a joint record. Some- times they were preserved distinct and separate; but copyists, for their own convenience, brought together all the articles regarding the same subject, from what source soever they were obtained. Such was precisely the case in the instance before us. There were present on this occasion, by them- selves or by their legates, the King of Sicily, Emperor-elect of the Romans, the Emperor of the East, the King of France, the King of England, the King of Arragon, the King of Jerusalem, the King of Cyprus, many other kings, lords paramount, sovereign States, and princes. Several of the bishops were princes or barons. In the ecclesiastical council, the third canon terminated exactly in one sentence, which was that of the excommunication or separation from the Church of those whom the first canon had condemned, whatever name or names they might assume ; because they had in several places several appellations, and were continu- ally dividing off and changing names as they separated. The duty and the jurisdiction of the council came to this, and the ancient records give no more as the portion of its enactments. But the congress of the temporal powers then made the subsequent part as their enactment; and thus this penal and civil regulation was not an act of the council, but an act of the congress. It is not a canon concerning the doctrine of the Church, nor indeed is it by any means a canon, though the copyists have added it to the canon as regarding the very same subject; and as confessedly the excommunication in the third canon regarded only the special case of those particular heretics, the addition of the penal enactment to this particular canon is confirmatory evidence that those who added it knew that the penalty in the one case was only co-extensive with the excommunication in the other. Having thus seen that this canon of the Council of Lateran was not a doctrinal decision of our Church estab- lishing the doctrine of persecution and commanding to per- secute, but that it was a civil enactment by the temporal DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 247 power against persons whom they looked upon as criminals, it is more the province of the politician or of the jurist than of the divine to decide upon its propriety. I may, how- ever, be permitted to say that in my opinion the existence of civilized society required its enactment, though no good man can approve of several abuses which were committed under the pretext of its execution, nor can any rational man pretend that because of the existence of a special law for a particular purpose every case which may be thought analagous to that for which provision was made is to be illegally subjected to those provisions. We are now arrived at the place where we may easily find the origin and the extent of the papal power of deposing sovereigns and of absolving subjects from their oaths of allegiance. To judge properly of facts, we must .know their special circumstances, not their mere outline. The circumstances of Christendom were then widely different from those in which we now are placed. Europe was then under the feudal system. I have seldom found a writer, not a Catholic, who, in treating of that age and that system, has been accurate, and who has not done us very serious injustice. But a friend of mine, who is a respect- able member of your honorable body, has led me to read Hallam's account of it ; and I must say that I have sel- dom met with so much candor and, what I call, so much truth. From reading his statement of that system it will be plainly seen that there existed amongst the Christian poten- tates a sort of federation, in which they bound themselves by certain regulations, and to the observance of those they were held not merely by their oaths, but by various pen- alties. Sometimes they consented that the penalty should be the loss of their station. It was of course necessary to ascertain that the fact existed before its consequences should be declared to follow ; it was also necessary to stablish some tribunal to examine and to decide as to the existence of the fact itself, and to proclaim that existence. Amongst independent sovereigns there was no superior, and 248 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. it was natural to fear that mutual jealousy would create great difficulty in selecting a chief; and that what orig- inated in concession might afterwards be claimed as a right. They were, however, all members of one Church, of which the Pope was the head, and in this respect, their common father; and by universal consent it was regulated that he should examine, ascertain the fact, proclaim it, and declare its consequences. Thus he did in reality possess the power of deposing monarchs, and of absolving their subjects from oaths of fealty, but only those monarchs who were mem- bers of that federation, and in the cases legally provided for, and by their concession, not by divine right, and during the term of that federation and the existence of his commission. He governed the Church by divine right, he deposed kings and absolved subjects from their allegiance by human concession. I preach the doctrines of my Church by divine right, but I preach from this spot not by that right but by the permission of others. It is not then a doctrine of our Church that the Pope has been divinely commissioned either to depose kings or to interfere with republics, or to absolve the subjects of the former from their allegiance, or interfere with the civil concerns of the latter. When the persecuted English Cath- olics, under Elizabeth, found the Pope making an unfounded claim to this right, and upon the shadow of that un- founded right making inroads upon their national independ- ence, by declaring who should or who should not be their temporal ruler, they well showed how little they regarded his absolving them from their allegiance, for they volun- teered their services to protect their liberties, which their Catholic ancestors had labored to establish. And she well found that a Catholic might safely be entrusted with the admiralty of her fleet, and that her person was secure amongst her disgraced Catholic nobility and gentry and their persecuted adherents ; although the Court of Rome had issued its bull of absolution, and some divines were found who endeavored to prove that what originated in voluntary DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 249 concession of States and monarchs was derived from divine institution. If then Elizabeth, of whose character I would not wish in this place to express my opinion, was safe amidst those whom she persecuted for their faith, even when the head of their Church absolved them from alle- giance, and if at such a moment they flocked round her standard to repel Catholic invaders who came with conse- crated banners, and that it is admitted on all hands that in so doing they violated no principle of doctrine or of discipline of their Church, as we all avow ; surely America need not fear for the fidelity of her Catholic citizens, whom she cherishes and whom she receives to her bosom with affection and shelters from the persecution of others. Neither will any person attempt to establish an analogy between our federation and that of feudalism, to argue that the Pope can do amongst us what he did amongst European, potentates under circumstances widely different. It has been frequently objected to us, that our Church has been more extensively persecuting than any other. This- is not the place to enter into a comparison of atrocities ; but I will assert, that when weighed against each other our scale will be found light indeed. Did any person think proper to conjure up the victims from the grave, I would engage to produce evidence of the inflictions upon us in abundance, until the hairs of our hearers should stand on end, and humanity interpose to prevent the recital. But the crimes of individuals or of assemblies are not the doc- trines of a Church. I had other subjects which I desired to treat of in your presence, but I feel I have trespassed too long upon your patience. Let us go back to our view of religion. We may now say that all the law and the prophets can be reduced to the two great commandments as our blessed Saviour gave them : Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and thy whole soul, and thy whole mind, and with all thy strength ; this is the first and the greatest. Love is affectionate attachment founded upon 250 DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. esteem. We seek to know the will of those whom we love that we may bring ours to be in conformity therewith. The will of God is, that we should seek to know what He teaches, because, indeed, He would not have taught with- out desiring that we should learn. Our Saviour Himself tells His disciples, if they love Him they will keep His Word. The proof, then, of our love is not to be exhibited in our mere declaration, it is to be found in the manifes- tation of our assiduity to know what our Creator has taught, that it may be the rule of our practice that we may believe His declarations, obey His injunctions, and adhere to His institutions. As His knowledge surpasses ours, so His declarations may regard facts beyond our comprehension, and our faith be thus built upon the evi- dence of His Word for things which we have not seen, and His promises exhibit to us the substance of what we hope to enjoy, because He has pledged His veracity, not because our reason makes it manifest. It is our duty to love Him so as to be zealous for discovering what He has taught, that we may pay to Him the homage of our understanding, as well by its exertion as by its submission. Let me then exhort you to this love. Investigate for the purpose of obtaining the knowledge of truth, and then pay the homage of your will by determining to act in con- formity with what you shall have discovered. Submit your affections to His law, bring your passions in subjection thereto. Of ourselves we are weak, in His grace we can become strong. His institutions have been established, that through them we might be strengthened in that grace. It is therefore our duty, as it is our interest, to have recourse to them. Reason, religion, wisdom, which is the perfection of both, lead us to this conclusion. It necessarily, then, is incumbent on us to search for where those instutitions are to be found. The second commandment is like the first : Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself for the sake of God. The Apostle asks us, How can a man say that he loves God DISCOURSE BEFORE CONGRESS. 25] whom he hath not seen, and hate his neighbor whom he seeth ? and that neighbor is made in the likeness of God. The Saviour commands us even to love our enemies, to