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 HELIOTYPE PRINTINQ OO.. BOSTON. 
 
LITERARY PAPERS 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM AUSTIN 
 
 UtJ a iSiosrapfjical ^fectcj 
 
 BY HIS SON 
 
 JAMES WALKER AUSTIN 
 
 7 U 
 
 BOSTON" 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 
 1890 
 

 Copyright, 1S90, 
 By James Walker Acstin. 
 
 TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES PRINTED. 
 
 University Press : 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Biographical Sketch of William Austin v-xvi 
 
 Peter Eugg, the Missing Man 3-40 
 
 The Late Joseph Natterstrom 43-58 
 
 Martha Gardner; or, Moral Eeaction 61-74 
 
 The Man with the Cloaks : a Vermont Legend . 77-96 
 The Sufferings of a Country Schoolmaster . . . 99-119 
 
 Letters prom London 123-327 
 
 The Human Character of Jesus Christ .... 331-372 
 Oration at Charlestov/n, Mass., June 17, 1801 . . 375-394 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 WILLIAM AUSTIN, the author of the Papers m- 
 cluded in this volume, was the son of Nathaniel 
 Austin, — of the Austin family that settled in Charlestown, 
 Massachusetts, about 1638, — and of Margaret Rand, a 
 sister of Dr. Isaac Rand, well spoken of by Lorenzo Sabine 
 in the Biographical Sketches of American Loyalists. 
 
 The earliest recorded notice of the Austin name in the 
 Charlestown Records is that of Richard Austin, who was 
 admitted a freeman in 1651, probably when he became 
 twenty-one years of age. From this Richard descended 
 Benjamin Austin, commonly known as " Honestus ; " 
 Jonathan Loring Austin, secretary to Dr. Franklin at 
 Paris, and afterward Secretary of State and Treasurer of 
 Massachusetts ; and the late Attorney-general, James 
 Trecothick Austin. During the Revolution all of the 
 Austin name were patriots, stanch and active ; and 
 Benjamin, the father of "Honestus," was one of the 
 number of those whose appointment as councillors was 
 vetoed by Governor Gage. 
 
 There is a tradition that two boys, brothers, came to 
 Charlestown in 1638, — one of whom was Richard (ad- 
 mitted freeman in 1651, as before stated), and the other 
 named Anthony, who first went to Rowley, Massachusetts, 
 and thence to Suffield, Connecticut. That one of the 
 same race as Richard of 1651 removed to Connecticut is 
 
vi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 beyond doubt, but at what particular time vrc have no 
 evidence. It is stated that from this Connecticut branch 
 was descended Stephen Fuller Austin, ])y whose forecast, 
 wisdom, and energy, in a large measure, Texas became 
 a part of tlie Union. 
 
 The two boys mentioned above were probably the " two 
 children" accompanying that Richard Austin of Bishop- 
 stoke, England, enumerated by John Camden Hotten in his 
 " Original Lists of Emigrants" as embarking from Southamp- 
 ton, bound for New England, in the ship " Bevis " in May, 
 1G38. No further trace of Richard, senior, has been found ; 
 and he is unaccounted for, unless identical with the Aus- 
 tin mentioned in Winthrop's Journal, who arrived in New 
 England in 1638, and whose subsequent capture by the 
 Turks on his return voyage to England by way of Spain is 
 considered by Winthrop a judgment of God for his dis- 
 satisfaction with the new country and withdrawal there- 
 from. This may be the Richard, as the date of his arrival, 
 1638, corresponds with the year of his departure from 
 England ; but if so, Winthrop is in error in stating that he 
 with " his wife and family were carried to Algiers and sold 
 there for slaves." Such may have been the fate of Richard 
 and his wife, but not of the children, who seem to have re- 
 mained in tliis country, and afterward appear as Richard 
 and Anthony. There seems to be more than common 
 obscurity in the history of the family until we begin with 
 Richard of 1651, who appears from the Charlestown 
 Records to have been a man of some note, and who held 
 various public offices. From his time the family descent 
 is clearly traced. 
 
 William Austin, the subject of this sketch, was born at 
 Lunenburg, in the County of Worcester, Massachusetts, 
 March 2, 1778, and died in Charlestown, June 27, 1841. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. vii 
 
 The house of his father was burned in the conflagration at 
 Charlestown, June 17, 1775, during the battle of Bunker 
 Hill ; and on the same day the family left for Lunenburg, 
 there to remain until the house was rebuilt. During 
 the burning of Charlestown Mrs. Austin hastened with 
 her son Nathaniel (William's elder brother), then about 
 four years old, over Charlestown Neck to Maiden. She 
 never forgot the anxiety and distress of the day ; and 
 in after years, still cherishing her Tory prejudices, she 
 was always careful to remind that son when arrayed in 
 regimentals as general of the militia, to celebrate the 
 17th of June, that he was celebrating a defeat, and also 
 her flight with him from the burning town. 
 
 The life of William Austin was not without incident. 
 He was graduated from Harvard College in the Class of 
 1798, — a class of ability and good character. Among its 
 members were William Ellery Channing, Samuel Phillips 
 Prescott Fay, Joseph Story, Richard Sullivan, Stephen 
 Longfellow, John Varnum, and Humphrey Devereux, — the 
 last named his room-mate for four years. Mr. Austin 
 was chosen a member of the Phi Beta Kappa Society, 
 but declined for two reasons, — one, because he had 
 a strong dislike to secret societies, and the other, be- 
 cause he thought injustice had been done to one of his 
 classmates. 
 
 In 1799 Mr. Austin was appointed schoolmaster and 
 chaplain in the Navy, being, I believe, the first commis- 
 sioned chaplain in the service. He sailed with Com- 
 modores Nicholson and Talbot in the frigate " Consti- 
 tution," and among his pupils was John, afterward 
 Commodore, Downes, who years after, when in command 
 at the Charlestown Navy Yard, gratefully said that there 
 was one man, William Austin, to whom he could always 
 cheerfully take off his hat. During the cruise of the 
 
viii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 " Constitution," Commodore Talbot commanding, the ship 
 " Amelia," owned in Hamburg, was captured from the 
 French, and in 1800 the court decreed that the captors 
 were entitled to one sixth of the value for salvage. 
 Commodore Talbot had expected more, and sent Mr. 
 Austin to engage Alexander Hamilton to manage the 
 case. At the interview, Hamilton said : — 
 
 " Who are you, sir 1 " 
 
 " I am the chaplain," was the reply. 
 
 " You do not look much like a chaplain." 
 
 " I intend, as soon as I can afford it, to study law." 
 
 "Well, here is my library; make yourself at home. Study out 
 
 this case, and determine for yourself what is the proper amount of 
 
 salvage, as you are interested." 
 
 Mr. Austin accepted the invitation, examined the author- 
 ities, and came to the same conclusion with Mr. Hamilton, 
 who highly commended the researches and arguments of 
 the young chaplain. 
 
 After his cruises in the " Constitution " Mr. Austin 
 went to England, and while there enjoyed the society 
 of "Washington Allston and John Blake White, artists, 
 Edmund Trowbridge Dana, son of Judge Francis Dana, 
 and Arthur Maynard Walter. Walter was a classmate, 
 who took his degree at Columbia College, New York, 
 because he had had some difficulty with the Harvard 
 authorities, and Dana severed his connection with the 
 College in his junior year. They were all genial men, 
 and their political or other differences did not affect 
 their social relations. These young men, having been 
 intimate in America, their good-fellowship in London 
 was but natural, and they remained cordial friends as 
 long as life lasted. Austin gave a somewhat different 
 version of the visit of the young men to see George HI. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ix 
 
 from that given by his classmate Willard, in the " Mem- 
 ories of Youth and Manhood." The account given in 
 Mr. Austin's own words, is as follows : — 
 
 " I walked with White, Allston, Dana, and Walter to Windsor 
 to see the royal family parade on the terrace. We all had canes, 
 as was the fashion of the time, and to our surprise, upon enter- 
 ing the grounds these were taken away by an usher. I said, * I 
 hope you do not think we came to cane his Majesty.' I had seen 
 the king before and knew his person. The others spoke almost in 
 one breath, — 
 
 " ' Austin, which is the king 1 ' 
 
 "I said, 'Do you see that man there?' pointing to the king. 
 
 " ' Yes.' 
 
 " ' Well, that is the rascal who burned my father's barn' " 
 
 Both house and barn had been burned at Charlestown, 
 but the burning of the barn was treated as the meaner 
 offence. Willard states that : — 
 
 " Austin was not born until nearly two years after the battle of 
 Bunker Hill,^ but in his childhood he could see ample proofs of 
 the awful conflagration in the cellar walls and naked chimneys 
 and fragments of timber, charred, but not wholly consumed." 
 
 I do not know that I can give any better description of 
 Mr. Austin, with some slight qualifications and additions, 
 than that to be found in the " Memories of Youth and 
 Manhood," to which I have before referred. Mr. Willard 
 says : — 
 
 " At no time, so far as I can remember, did Mr. Austin while at 
 college show any desire to excel in the prescribed studies, being 
 doubtless of the opinion that one has as good a right of choice in 
 the studies he shall pursue as in the companions with whom he 
 shall choose to associate. Apart from this, which was unjust to 
 
 1 He was born nearly three years after the battle. 
 
X BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 himself, he employed much of his time usefully, and was among 
 the most distinguished belle-lettrists (if I may use a word of Cole- 
 ridge's coining) of his class, and wrote with far more facility and 
 sprightliness than the generality of its members. Soon after he 
 received his degree he went to England as a literary amateur and 
 observer, and wrote many letters home, which after his return he 
 collected and published in a volume. They embrace a variety of 
 topics, and among them descriptions of some of the most distin- 
 guished Parliamentary speakers at the close of the last and the 
 beginning of the present century, which form an interesting part 
 of the book. For his professional life he studied law, and prac- 
 tised in this profession as an attorney, counsellor, and advocate. 
 His ideas indeed were quick and often brilliant, but his tempera- 
 ment was impulsive, and he failed in that degree of illustrative 
 amplification and that continuity of thought which are necessary 
 to lead common minds to the desired conclusion. As a companion 
 he was entertaining and instructive, — one whom it was pleasing 
 to meet even casually in the street ; for there was always some- 
 thing uppermost in his mind, and one might perceive in his ap- 
 proach that he had something to say, and he said it very abruptly 
 perhaps, and sometimes it was very odd, but not infrequently 
 suggestive of more than was said. "While in active life, Austin 
 belonged to the Democratic party, and for two years, beginning in 
 May, 1822, he was a member of the Massachusetts Senate for the 
 County of Middlesex. It was a time when party politics inter- 
 fered little with legislation. He was also in 1820 a delegate from 
 Charlestown to the Convention for revising the Constitution of 
 Massachusetts, and upon some of the proposed amendments he 
 took an active part in the debates. In the debate concerning the 
 government of Harvard College he manifested a liberal spirit. 
 With his usual frankness ho acknowledged that he had formerly 
 entertained prejudices, but they had long since been dissipated. 
 It is a remarkable fact that there were eight members of the class 
 graduated at Harvard College in 1798 who were members of this 
 Convention ; namely, John Abbot, William Austin, Samuel P. P. 
 Fay, Isaac Fiske, Henry Gardner, Joseph Story, Ptichard Sullivan, 
 and Joseph Tuckerman. 
 
 "Though Austin wrote with facility from a mind well stored^ I 
 am not aware that he contributed laro^elv to the literature of his 
 
BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH. xi 
 
 times. His story of Peter Rugg, published in the " Galaxy " (a 
 paper conducted by Joseph T. Buckingham), had great celebrity, 
 and was copied in many newspapers and miscellaneous journals. 
 It is a story unsurpassed in its kind, and so well and consistently 
 sustained that the reader cannot fail to follow the hero in his 
 perpetual motion with a feeling of sympathy and anxiety for 
 his fate." 
 
 What is said of Mr. Austin as an advocate is partially 
 true. He could make a close and able argument, but I 
 think that from the bent and formation of his mind, unless 
 he thought his client had a just cause he could not with 
 energy enforce his arguments. He was however a most 
 faithful counsellor, and when he officiated on trials as a 
 justice for the County of Middlesex, all the Boston Bar, 
 with scarcely an exception, brought their Middlesex 
 actions to his court. 
 
 In England Mr. Austin made acquaintance with gentle- 
 men of varied qualities, as will be seen by his account in 
 the " Letters from London.'' Among others he became 
 acquainted with the celebrated Lord Erskine. On a warm 
 summer day he attended the Sessions, when it was known 
 that Mr. Erskine was to address the Court. Erskine said, 
 " Why, Mr. Austin, what can keep you in the court such 
 an oppressive day?" "A gentleman, sir, by the name 
 of Erskine keeps me here ; he is responsible," — a reply 
 which greatly pleased Erskine. 
 
 After spending about eighteen months at Lincoln's Inn 
 in the study of law, Mr. Austin returned to Massachusetts, 
 and soon after entered upon the practice of his profession. 
 From this period until his activity of life ceased, he 
 had a throng of attached clients in Charlestown and 
 Boston, who kept him so much engaged that there was 
 small opportunity for literary production. 
 
 On the 17th of June, 1801, three years after his gradu- 
 
xii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 ation, Mr. Austin delivered an oration on Bunker Hill, 
 before and at the request of the Charlestown Artillery 
 Company. It was published, and is worth reading as a 
 specimen of the style of the times. The essay on " The 
 Human Character of Jesus Christ," written when the 
 author was less than thirty years of age, is remarkable for 
 its depth of thought, its beauty of language, and its rev- 
 erent appreciation of the Son of Man. 
 
 Through the kindness of Col. Thomas "Wentworth Hig- 
 ginson, I am permitted to include in this Sketch a part 
 of his interesting essay published in "The Independent" 
 of March 29, 1888, in which "William Austin is called " A 
 Precursor of Hawthorne." Colonel Higginson writes as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Tlie talc ^vllicll will, perhaps, keep liini in lasting memory is 
 'Peter Kugg, the Missing Man.' The tale was first printed in 
 Buckingham's ' Xew England Galaxy' for Sept. 10, 1824; and 
 that editor says of it : ' This article was reprinted in other papers 
 and books, and read more than any newspaper communication 
 that has fallen witliin my knowledge.'^ 
 
 " The original story purports to belong to the year 1820, and 
 the scene of a later continuation is laid in the year 1825, both 
 these being reprinted in the 'Boston Book' for 1841. It is the 
 narrative, in the soberest language, of a series of glimpses of a 
 man who spends his life in driving a horse and chaise — or more 
 strictly ' a weather-beaten chair, once built for a chaise-body ' — 
 in the direction of Boston, but never getting there. He is accom- 
 panied by a child ; and it subsequently turns out that he really 
 left Boston about the time of the Boston massacre (1770) and 
 has been travelling ever since, — the explanation being that he was 
 once overtaken by a storm at Menotomy, now Arlington, a few 
 miles from Boston, and that being a man of violent temper he 
 swore to get home that night or never see home again. Thence- 
 forth he is always travelling ; a cloud and a storm always follow 
 
 1 Personal Memoirs, i. 87. 
 
BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH. xiii 
 
 hlui, and every horse that sees his approach feels abject terror. 
 The concejition is essentially Hawthorne-like ; and so are the scene 
 and the accessories. The time to which Rugg's career dates back 
 is that borderland of which Hawthorne was so fond, between the 
 colonial and the modern period ; and the old localities, dates, cos- 
 tumes, and even coins are all introduced in a way to remind us of 
 the greater artist. But what is most striking in the tale is what 
 I have called the penumbra, — a word defined in astronomy as that 
 portion of space which in an eclipse is partly but not entirely 
 deprived of light ; and in painting, as the boundary of shade and 
 light, where the one blends with the other. 
 
 '* It is this precise gift which has long been recognized as almost 
 peculiar to Hawthorne, among writers of English. Miss Elizabeth 
 Peabody, Hawthorne's sister-in-law, stated it admirably when she 
 wrote in a paper on ' The Genius of Hawthorne : ' ^ 'He does not 
 seem to know much more about his heroes and heroines than he 
 represents them to know of each other ; but recognizing the fact 
 that most outward action is of mixed motives, and admits of more 
 than one interpretation, he is very apt to suggest two or tliree 
 quite diverse views, and, as it were, consult with his readers 
 upon which may be the true one ; and not seldom he gives most 
 prominence to some interpretation which we feel pretty sure is 
 not his own.' Then she points out by way of illustration, that in 
 * The Marble Faun ' the author does not seem really to know 
 whether Donatello has pointed and furry ears or not ; and such 
 illustrations could easily be multiplied. Now, it is precisely this 
 method which we find in full force throughout the story of ' Peter 
 Rugg, the Missing Man,' published while Hawthorne was yet a 
 student at Bowdoin College. 
 
 "At every point in the narrative of this enigmatical man we are 
 thrown into this borderlantl between light and shade. When the 
 driver points out in the thunder-cloud, after Rugg and his weird 
 child have driven by, the form of the man, horse, and vehicle, the 
 writer admits that he himself saw no such thing, and suggests that 
 ' the man's fancy was doubtless at fault,' and that it is ' a very 
 common thing for the imagination to paint for the senses.' When 
 an old citizen tells the tradition of Rugg's ill-temper, that he be- 
 
 1 Atlantic Monthly, September, 1868. 
 
xiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 came *so profane that his wig would rise up from his -head,' the 
 dispassionate historian is careful to tell us : * Some said it was on 
 account of his terrible language ; others accounted for it in a 
 more philosophical way, and said it was caused by the expansion 
 of his scalp, as violent passion, we know, will swell the veins 
 and expand the head.' When the author mentions the rumor 
 that on the only occasion when Rugg really reached Boston and 
 drove through his own street, unable to stop the horse, the clatter 
 of the animal's hoofs shook the houses, he quietly points out that 
 this was nothing remarkable ; ' for at this day, in many of the 
 streets, a loadud truck or team in passing will shake the houses 
 like an earthquake.' However,' he adds, * Rugg's neighbors never 
 afterward watched. Some of them treated it all as a delusion, 
 and thouglit no more of it. Others of a different opinion shook 
 their heads and said nothing.' Here we have in perfection the 
 penumbra of Hawthorne. 
 
 " Again, when the toll-gatherer once attempted to stop Rugg on 
 Charlestown bridge and failed, the writer adds : ' Whether Rugg, 
 or whoever the person was, ever passed the bridge again, the toll- 
 gatherer never would tell ; and when questioned, seemed anxious 
 to waive the subject.* Thus docs Austin, like Hawthorne, actually 
 discredit his own witnesses, half evoking them from the shadow, 
 and then on second thoughts remanding them to the dusk again. 
 So in the continuation of the story, — which, as being a con- 
 tinuation, is more ambitious and proportionately less eifective, — 
 Peter Eugg appears with his equipage on a Virginia race-course, 
 and outruns the winning steeds. One of the riders and half the 
 spectators declare that the stranger beast is not a horse but a 
 huge black ox, — and, indeed, his tracks show the cloven foot ; yet 
 when the horse is afterward examined on a ferry-boat it turns out 
 that his hoofs have been accidentally split on a newly macadam- 
 ized road. So when another toll-gatherer claims that the horse 
 passed without touching the bar, the author points out that the 
 bar is so low that so high-stepping a horse could easily draw a 
 two-wheeled vehicle over it. Thus at every step, in the Haw- 
 thorne fashion, Austin mystifies himself with the reader, and never 
 leaves one so wholly confused as when offering him some perfectly 
 commonplace elucidation. 
 
 " The continuation of ' Peter Rugg ' rises at the close to a cer- 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xv 
 
 tain dignity of tone which justifies its existence. Peter Ptugg at 
 last reaches Boston with his weary child, at the very moment 
 when an auctioneer is offering for sale his own ancient estate, now 
 escheated to the Commonwealth. The house is gone, the genera- 
 tion Eugg knew is gone, and all he can do, while peering on the 
 alien crowd, is to recognize, in true Boston fashion, the features of 
 the older families, — Winslow and Sargent, Sewall and Dudley. 
 * Will none of you speak to me 1 ' he says. . . . ' Will no one 
 inform me who has demolished my house?' 
 
 " Then spake a voice from the crowd, but whence it came I 
 could not discern : ' There is nothing strange here but yourself, Mr. 
 Rugg. Time, which destroys and renews all things, has dilapidated 
 your house and placed us here. You have suffered many years under 
 an illusion. The tempest which you profanely defied at Menotomy 
 has at length subsided; but you will never see home, for your house 
 and wife and neighbors have all disappeared. Your estate, indeed, 
 remains, but no home. You were cut off from the last age, and you 
 can never be fitted to the present. Your home is gone, and you can 
 never have another home in this world.' " 
 
 " Who but Hawthorne ever brought back his readers from the 
 realms of fantasy by an ending so much like that of a ' Twice-Told 
 Tale ' 1 " 
 
 The Oration delivered at Charlestown at the request of 
 the Artillery Company, June 17, 1801, was published in 
 Charlestown, 1801 ; the " Letters from London," in Boston, 
 1804 ; the essay on " The Human Character of Jesus 
 Christ," in Boston, 1807 ; " The Sufferings of a Country 
 Schoolmaster," in the " New England Galaxy," Boston, 
 July 8, 1825 ; " The late Joseph Natterstrom," in the " New 
 England Magazine," July, 1831; "The Man with the 
 Cloaks," in the " American Monthly Magazine," January, 
 1836 ; and " Martha Gardner," in the " American Monthly 
 Magazine," December, 1837. 
 
 The portrait of my father which accompanies this 
 volume is from the painting by Pratt. 
 
ivi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 My father died in my boyhood, and now, after nearly 
 fifty years, his pleasant smile, his kind heart, and the 
 .light of his countenance are still living memories. It 
 has been a great delight to me to place and preserve 
 on the speaking page these memorials of his life and 
 labors. 
 
 I am indebted to my brother, the late Arthur Williams 
 Austin, of Milton, for information in regard to much of 
 the material that I have made use of in this Sketch ; 
 and also to my friend, Albert Plarrison Iloyt, for his kind 
 assistance in helping me prepare this volume for the 
 press. 
 
 JAMES W. AUSTIN. 
 
 Boston, September, 1890. 
 
PETER RUGG, THE MISSING MAN. 
 
PETER RUGG, THE MISSING MAN. 
 
 From Jonathan D unwell of New York, to Mr. 
 Herman Krauff. 
 
 SIR, — Agreeably to my promise, I now relate to you all 
 the particulars of the lost man and child which I have 
 been able to collect. It is entirely owing to the humane 
 interest you seemed to take in the report, that I have pur- 
 sued the inquiry to the following result. 
 
 You may remember that business called me to Boston 
 in the summer of 1820. I sailed in the packet to Provi- 
 dence, and when I arrived there I learned that every seat 
 in the stage was engaged. I was thus obliged either to 
 wait a few hours or accept a seat with the driver, who 
 civilly offered me that accommodation. Accordingly, I 
 took my seat by his side, and soon found him intelligent 
 and communicative. When we had travelled about ten 
 miles, the horses suddenly threw their ears on their necks, 
 as flat as a hare's. Said the driver, " Have you a surtout 
 with you ? " 
 
 " No," said I ; " why do you ask ? " 
 
 " You will want one soon," said he. " Do you observe 
 the ears of all the horses ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and was just about to ask the reason." 
 
 " They see the storm-breeder, and we shall see him 
 soon." 
 
4 PETER RUGG, 
 
 At this moment there was not a cloud visible in the firma- 
 ment. Soon after, a small speck appeared in the road. 
 
 " There," said my companion, " comes the storm-breeder. 
 He always leaves a Scotch mist behind him. By many a 
 wet jacket do I remember him. I suppose the poor fellow 
 suffers much himself, — much more than is known to the 
 world." 
 
 Presently a man with a child beside him, with a large 
 black horse, and a weather-beaten chair, once built for a 
 chaise-body, passed in great haste, apparently at the rate 
 of twelve miles an hour. He seemed to grasp the reins of 
 his horse witli firmness, and appeared to anticipate his 
 speed. He seemed dejected, and looked anxiously at the 
 passengers, particularly at the stage-driver and myself. In 
 a moment after he passed us, the horses' ears were up, and 
 bent themselves forward so that they nearly met. 
 
 " Who is that man ? " said I ; " he seems in great 
 trouble." 
 
 " Nobody knows who he is, Ijut his person and the child 
 are familiar to me. I have met him more than a hundred 
 times, and have been so often asked the way to Boston 
 by that man, even when he was travelling directly from 
 that town, that of late I have refused any communica- 
 tion with him ; and that is the reason he gave me such a 
 fixed look." 
 
 " But does he never stop anywhere ? " 
 
 " I have never known him to stop anywhere longer 
 than to inquire the way to Boston ; and let him be where 
 he may, he will tell you he cannot stay a moment, for 
 he must reach Boston that night." 
 
 We were now ascending a high hill in Walpole ; and as 
 we had a fair view of the heavens, I was rather disposed 
 to jeer the driver for thinking of his surtout, as not a 
 cloud as big as a marble could be discerned. 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 6 
 
 " Do you look," said he, " in the direction whence the 
 man came ; that is the place to look. The storm never 
 meets him ; it follo\^s him." 
 
 We presently approached another hill ; and when at the 
 height, the driver pointed out in an eastern direction a 
 little black speck about as big as a hat. " There," said he, 
 " is the seed-storm. We may possibly reach Policy's be- 
 fore it reaches us, but the wanderer and his child will go 
 to Providence through rain, thunder, and lightning." 
 
 And now the horses, as though taught by instinct, has- 
 tened with increased speed. The little black cloud came 
 on rolling over the turnpike, and doubled and trebled itself 
 in all directions. The appearance of this cloud attracted 
 the notice of all the passengers, for after it had spread 
 itself to a great bulk it suddenly became more limited in 
 circumference, grew more compact, dark, and consolidated. 
 And now the successive flashes of chain lightning caused 
 the whole cloud to appear like a sort of irregular net- work, 
 and displayed a thousand fantastic images. The driver 
 bespoke my attention to a remarkable configuration in the 
 cloud. He said every flash of lightning near its centre 
 discovered to him, distinctly, the form of a man sitting in 
 an open carriage drawn by a black horse. But in truth I 
 saw no such thing; the man's fancy was doubtless at 
 fault. It is a very common thing for the imagination to 
 paint for the senses, both in the visible and invisible 
 world. 
 
 In the mean time the distant thunder gave notice of a 
 shower at hand ; and just as we reached Policy's tavern 
 the rain poured down in 'torrents. It was soon over, the 
 cloud passing in the direction of the turnpike toward 
 Providence. In a few moments after, a respectable-look- 
 ing man in a chaise stopped at the door. The man and 
 child in the chair having excited some little sympathy 
 
6 PETER KUGG, 
 
 among the passengers, the gentleman was asked if he had 
 observed them. He said he had met them ; that the man 
 seemed bewildered, and inquired the ^^ay to Boston ; that 
 he was driving at great speed, as though he expected to 
 outstrip the tempest ; that the moment he had passed him, 
 a thunder-clap broke directly over the man's head, and 
 seemed to envelop both man and child, horse and carriage. 
 " I stopped," said the gentleman, " supposing the lightning 
 had struck him, but the horse only seemed to loom up and 
 increase his speed ; and as well as 1 could judge, he trav- 
 elled just as fast as the thunder-cloud." 
 
 While this man was speaking, a pedler with a cart of tin 
 merchandise came up, all dripping; and on being ques- 
 tioned, he said he had met that man and carriage, within a 
 fortnight, in four different States ; that at each time he 
 had inquired the way to Boston ; and that a thunder-shower 
 like the present liad each time deluged his wagon and his 
 wares, setting his tin pots, etc. afloat, so that he had de- 
 termined to get a marine insurance for the future. But 
 that which excited his surprise most was the strange con- 
 duct of his horse, for long before he could distinguish the 
 man in the chair, his own horse stood still in the road, 
 and flung back his ears. " In short," said the pedler, " I 
 wish never to see that man and horse again ; they do not 
 look to me as though they belonged to this world." 
 
 This was all I could learn at that time ; and the occur- 
 rence soon after would have become with me, " like one of 
 those things which had never happened," had I not, as I 
 stood recently on the door-step of Bennett's hotel in Hart- 
 ford, heard a man say, " There goes Peter Rugg and his 
 child ! he looks wet and weary, and farther from Boston 
 than ever." I was satisfied it was the same man I had seen 
 more than three years before ; for whoever has once seen 
 Peter Rugg can never after be deceived as to his identity. 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 7 
 
 " Peter Rugg ! " said I ; " and who is Peter Rugg ? " 
 
 " That," said the stranger, " is more than any one can 
 tell exactly. He is a famous traveller, held in light esteem 
 by all innholders, for he never stops to eat, drink, or sleep. 
 I wonder why the government does not employ him to 
 carry the mail." 
 
 " Ay," said a by-stander, " that is a thought bright only 
 on one side ; how long would it take in that case to send 
 a letter to Boston, for Peter has already, to my knowledge, 
 been more than twenty years travelling to that place." 
 
 " But," said I, " does the man never stop anywhere ; 
 does he never converse with any one ? I saw the same 
 man more than three years since, near Providence, and I 
 heard a strange story about him. Pray, sir, give me some 
 account of this man." 
 
 " Sir," said the stranger, " those who know the most re- 
 specting that man, say the least. I have heard it asserted 
 that Heaven sometimes sets a mark on a man, either for 
 judgment or a trial. Under which Peter Rugg now labors, 
 I cannot say ; therefore I am rather inclined to pity than 
 to judge." 
 
 " You speak like a humane man," said I ; " and if you 
 have known him so long, I pray you will give me some 
 account of him. Has his appearance much altered in 
 that time ? " 
 
 " Why, yes. He looks as though he never ate, drank, or 
 slept ; and his child looks older than himself, and he looks 
 like time broken off from eternity, and anxious to gain a 
 resting-place." 
 
 " And how does his horse look ? " said I. 
 
 " As for his horse, he looks fatter and gayer, and shows 
 more animation and courage than he did twenty years ago. 
 The last time Rugg spoke to me he inquired how far it was 
 to Boston. I told him just one hundred miles." 
 
8 PETER RUGG, 
 
 " ' Why,' said he, ' how can you deceive me so ? It 
 is cruel to mislead a traveller. I have lost my way ; 
 pray direct me the nearest way to Boston.' 
 
 " I repeated, it was one hundred miles. 
 
 " ' How can you say so ? ' said he ; 'I was told last even- 
 ing it was but fifty, and I have travelled all night.' 
 
 "'But,' said I, 'you are now travelling from Boston. 
 You must turn back.' 
 
 " ' Alas,' said he, ' it is all turn back ! Boston shifts 
 with the wind, and plays all around the compass. One 
 man tells me it is to the east, another to the west ; and the 
 guide-posts too, they all point the wrong way.* 
 
 " ' But will you not stop and rest ? ' said I ; ' you seem 
 wet and weary.' 
 
 " * Yes,' said he, ' it has been foul weather since 1 left 
 home.' 
 
 " ' Stop, then, and refresh yourself.' 
 
 " ' I must not stop ; 1 must reach home to-night, if pos- 
 sible : though 1 tliink you must be mistaken in the distance" 
 to Boston.' 
 
 " lie then gave the reins to his horse, which he restrained 
 with difficulty, and disappeared in a moment. A few days 
 afterward I met the man a little this side of Claremont,^ 
 winding around the hills in Unity, at the rate, I believe, of 
 twelve miles an hour." 
 
 "Is Peter Rugg his real name, or has he accidentally 
 gained that name ? " 
 
 " I know not, but presume he will not deny his name ; 
 you can ask him, — for see, he has turned his horse, and 
 is passing this way." 
 
 In a moment a dark-colored high-spirited horse ap- 
 proached, and would have passed without stopping, but I 
 had resolved to speak to Peter Rugg, or whoever the man 
 1 In New Hampshire. 
 
THk MISSING MAN. 9 
 
 might be. Accordingly I stepped into the street ; and as 
 the horse approached, T made a feint of stopping him. 
 The man immediately reined in his horse. " Sir," said I, 
 " may I be so bold as to inquire if you are not Mr. Rugg ? 
 for I think I have seen you before." 
 
 " My name is Peter Rugg," said he. " I have unfortu- 
 nately lost my way ; I am wet and weary, and will take 
 it kindly of you to direct me to Boston." 
 
 " You live in Boston, do you ; and in what street ? " 
 
 « In Middle Street." 
 
 " When did you leave Boston ? " 
 
 "I cannot tell precisely ; it seems a considerable time." 
 
 " But how did you and your child become so wet ? It 
 has not rained here to-day. " 
 
 " It has just rained a heavy shower up the river. But 
 I shall not reach Boston to-night if I tarry. Would you 
 advise me to take the old road or the turnpike ? " 
 
 " Why, the old road is one hundred and seventeen miles, 
 and the turnpike is ninety-seven." 
 
 " How can you say so ? You impose on me ; it is wrong 
 to trifle with a traveller ; you know it is but forty miles 
 from Newburyport to Boston." 
 
 " But this is not Newburyport ; this is Hartford." 
 
 " Do not deceive me, sir. Is not this town Newburyport, 
 and the river that I have been following the Merrimack ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; this is Hartford, and the river the Connecticut." 
 
 He wrung his hands and looked incredulous. " Have 
 the rivers, too, changed their courses, as the cities have 
 changed places ? But see ! the clouds are gathering in 
 the south, and we shall have a rainy night. Ah, that 
 fatal oath!" 
 
 He would tarry no longer; his impatient horse leaped 
 off, his hind flanks rising like wings ; he seemed to devour 
 all before him, and to scorn all behind. 
 
10 PETER KUGG, 
 
 I had now, as I thought, discovered a clew to the history of 
 Peter Rugg ; and I determined, the next time my business 
 called me to Boston, to make a further inquiry. Soon after, 
 I was enabled to collect the following particulars from Mrs. 
 Croft, an aged lady in Middle Street, who has resided in Bos- 
 ton during the last twenty years. Her narration is this : 
 
 Just at twilight last summer a person stopped at the 
 door of the late Mrs. Rugg. Mrs. Croft on coming to 
 the door perceived a stranger with a child by his side, in 
 an old weather-beaten carrfage, with a black horse. Tlie 
 stranger asked for Mrs. Rugg, and was informed that Mrs. 
 Rugg had died at a good old age, more than twenty years 
 before that time. 
 
 The stranger replied, " IIow can you deceive me so ? 
 Do ask Mrs. Rugg to step to the door." 
 
 " Sir, I assure you Mrs. Rugg has not lived here these 
 twenty years ; no one lives here but myself, and my 
 name is Betsey Croft."' 
 
 The stranger paused, looked up and down the street, and 
 said, " Though the paint is rather faded, this looks like 
 my house." 
 
 " Yes," said the child, " that is the stone before the door 
 that I used to sit on to eat my bread and milk." 
 
 " But," said the stranger, " it seems to be on the wrong 
 side of the street. Indeed, everything here seems to be 
 misplaced. The streets are all changed, the people are 
 all changed, the town seems changed, and what is stran- 
 gest of all, Catherine Rugg has deserted her husband and 
 child. Pray," continued the stranger, " has John Foy 
 come home from sea ? He went a long voyage ; he is 
 my kinsman. If I could see him, he could give me some 
 account of Mrs. Rugg." 
 
 " Sir," said Mrs. Croft, " I never heard of John Foy. 
 Where did he live?" 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 11 
 
 " Just above here, in Orange-tree Lane." 
 
 " There is no such place in this neighborhood." 
 
 " What do you tell me ! Are the streets gone ? Orange- 
 tree Lane is at the head of Hanover Street, near Pcm- 
 berton's Hill." 
 
 " There is no such lane now." 
 
 " Madam, you cannot be serious ! But you doubtless 
 know my brother, William Rugg. He lives in Royal 
 Exchange Lane, near King Street." 
 
 " I know of no such lane ; and I am sure there is no 
 such street as King Street in this town." 
 
 " No such street as King Street ! Why, woman, you 
 mock me ! You may as well tell me there is no King 
 George. However, madam, you see I am wet and weary, 
 I must find a resting-place. I will go to Hart's tavern, 
 near the market." 
 
 " Which market, sir ? for you seem perplexed ; we have 
 several markets." 
 
 " You know there is but one market near the town 
 dock." . 
 
 " Oh, the old market ; but no such person has kept there 
 these twenty years." 
 
 Here the stranger seemed disconcerted, and uttered to 
 himself quite audibly : " Strange mistake ; how much this 
 looks like the town of Boston ! It certainly has a great 
 resemblance to it ; but I perceive my mistake now. Some 
 other Mrs. Rugg, some other Middle Street. — Then," 
 said he, "madam, can you direct me to Boston?" 
 
 " Why, this is Boston, the city of Boston ; I know of 
 no other Boston." 
 
 " City of Boston it may be ; but it is not the Boston 
 where I live. I recollect now, I came over a bridge in- 
 stead of a ferry. Pray, what bridge is that I just came 
 over ? " 
 
12 PETER EUGG, 
 
 "It is Charles River bridge." 
 
 " I perceive my mistake : there is a ferry between Bos- 
 ton and Charlestown ; there is no bridge. Ah, I perceive 
 my mistake. If I were in Boston my horse would carry 
 me directly to my own door. But my horse shows by his 
 impatience that he is in a strange place. Absurd, that I 
 sliould have mistaken this place for the old town of Bos- 
 ton ! It is a much finer city than the town of Boston. It 
 has been built long since Boston. I fancy Boston must 
 lie at a distance from this city, as the good woman seems 
 ignorant of it." 
 
 At these words his horse began to chafe, and strike the 
 pavement with his forefeet. The stranger seemed a little 
 bewildered, and said, " No home to-night ; " and giving the 
 reins to his horse, passed up the street, and I saw no more 
 of him. 
 
 It was evident that the generation to which Peter Rugg 
 belonged, had passed away. 
 
 This was all the account of Peter Rugg I could obtain 
 from Mrs. Croft ; but she directed me to an elderly man, 
 Mr. James Felt, who lived near her, and who had kept a 
 record of the principal occurrences for the last fifty years. 
 At my request she sent for him ; and after I had related 
 to him the object of my inquiry, Mr. Felt told me he had 
 known Rugg in his youth, and that his disappearance had 
 caused some surprise ; but as it sometimes happens that 
 men run away, — sometimes to be rid of others, and some- 
 times to be rid of themselves, — and Rugg took his child 
 with him, and his own horse and chair, and as it did not 
 appear that any creditors made a stir, the occurrence soon 
 mingled itself in the stream of oblivion ; and Rugg and 
 his child, horse, and chair were soon forgotten. 
 
 " It is true," said Mr. Felt, " sundry stories grew out of 
 Rung's affair, whether true or false I cannot tell ; but 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 13 
 
 stranger things have happened in my day, without even a 
 newspaper notice." 
 
 " Sir," said 1, "Peter Rugg is now living. I have lately 
 seen Peter Rugg and his child, horse, and chair; there- 
 fore I pray you to relate to me all you know or ever heard 
 of him." 
 
 " Why, my friend," said James Felt, " that Peter Rugg 
 is now a living man, I will not deny ; but that you have 
 seen Peter Rugg and his child, is impossible, if you mean 
 a small child ; for Jenny Rugg, if living, must be at least 
 — let me see — Boston massacre, 1770 — Jenny Rugg was 
 about ten years old. Why, sir, Jenny Rugg, if living, 
 must be more than sixty years of age. That Peter Rugg 
 is living, is highly probable, as he was only ten years older 
 than myself, and I was only eighty last March ; and I am 
 as likely to live twenty years longer as any man." 
 
 Here I perceived that Mr. Felt was in his dotage, and I 
 despaired of gaining any intelligence from him on which 
 I could depend. 
 
 I took my leave of Mrs. Croft, and proceeded to my 
 lodgings at the Marlborough Hotel. 
 
 " If Peter Rugg," thought I, " has been travelling since 
 the Boston massacre, there is no reason why he should not 
 travel to the end of time. If the present generation know 
 little of him, the next will know less, and Peter and his 
 child will have no hold on this world." 
 
 In the course of the evening, I related my adventure in 
 Middle Street. 
 
 " Ha ! " said one of the company, smiling, " do you 
 really think you have seen Peter Rugg ? I have heard my 
 grandfather speak of him, as though he seriously believed 
 his own story." 
 
 " Sir," said I, " pray let us compare your grandfather's 
 story of Mr. Rugg with my own." 
 
14 PETER RUGG, 
 
 " Peter Rugg, sir, — if my grandfather -vras worthy of 
 credit, — once lived in Middle Street, in this city. He was 
 a man in comfortable circumstances, had a wife and one 
 daughter, and was generally esteemed for his sober life 
 and manners. But unhappily, his temper, at times, was 
 altogether ungovernable, and then his language was terri- 
 ble. In these fits of passion, if a door stood in his way, he 
 would never do less than kick a panel through. He 
 would sometimes throw his heels over his head, and come 
 down on his feet, uttering oaths in a circle ; and thus in 
 a rage, he was the first who performed a somerset, and 
 did what others have since learned to do for merriment 
 and money. Once Rugg was seen to bite a tenpenny nail 
 in halves. In those days everybody, both men and boys, 
 wore wigs ; and Peter, at these moments of violent pas- 
 sion, would become so profane that his wig would rise up 
 from his head. Some said it was on account of his terri- 
 ble language ; others accounted for it in a more philo- 
 sophical way, and said it was caused by the expansion of 
 his scalp, as violent passion, we know, will swell the veins 
 and expand the head. While these fits were on him, Rugg 
 had no respect for heaven or earth. Except this infirmity, 
 all agreed that Rugg was a good sort of a man ; for when 
 his fits were over, nobody was so ready to commend a 
 placid temper as Peter. 
 
 " One morning, late in autumn, Rugg, in his own chair, 
 with a fine large bay liorse, took his daughter and pro- 
 ceeded to Concord. On his return a violent storm over- 
 took him. At dark he stopped in ^lenotomy, now West 
 Cambridge, at the door of a Mr. Cutter, a friend of his, 
 who urged him to tarry the night. On Rugg's declin- 
 ing to stop, Mr. Cutter urged him vehemently. ' Why, 
 Mr. Rugg,' said Cutter, ' the storm is overwhelming you. 
 The niofht is exceedingly dark. Your little daughter will 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 15 
 
 perish. You are in an open chair, and the tempest is in- 
 creasing,' ' Let the storm increase^ said Rugg, with a fear- 
 ful oath, ' I will see Jiome to-night, in spite of the last 
 tempest, or may I never see home I ' At these words he 
 gave his whip to his high-spirited horse and disappeared 
 in a moment. But Peter Rugg did not reach home that 
 night, nor the next ; nor, when he became a missing 
 man, could he ever be traced beyond Mr. Cutter's, in 
 Menotomy. 
 
 " For a long time after, on every dark and stormy night 
 the wife of Peter Rugg would fancy she heard tlie crack 
 of a whip, and the fleet tread of a horse, and the rattling 
 of a carriage passing her door. The neighbors, too, heard 
 the same noises, and some said they knew it was Rugg's 
 horse ; the tread on the pavement was perfectly familiar 
 to them. This occurred so repeatedly that at length the 
 neighbors watched with lanterns, and saw the real Peter 
 Rugg, with his own horse and chair and the child sitting 
 beside him, pass directly before his own door, his head 
 turned toward his house, and himself making every effort 
 to stop his horse, but in vain. 
 
 " The next day the friends of Mrs. Rugg exerted them- 
 selves to find her husband and child. They inquired at 
 every public house and stable in town ; but it did not ap- 
 pear that Rugg made any stay in Boston. No one, after 
 Rugg had passed his own door, could give any account of 
 him, though it was asserted by some that the clatter of 
 Rugg's horse and carriage over the pavements shook the 
 houses on both sides of the streets. And this is credible, if 
 indeed Rugg's horse and carriage did pass on that night ; 
 for at this day, in many of the streets, a loaded truck or 
 team in passing will shake the houses like an earthquake. 
 However, Rugg's neighbors never afterward watched. 
 Some of them treated it all as a delusion, and thought no 
 
16 PETER EUGG, 
 
 more of it. Others of a different opinion shook their heads 
 and said nothing. 
 
 " Tims Rugg and his child, horse, and chair were soon 
 forgotten ; and probably many in the neighborhood never 
 heard a word on the subject. 
 
 " There was indeed a rumor that Rugg was seen after- 
 ward in Connecticut, between Suffield and Hartford, pass- 
 ing through the country at headlong speed. This gave 
 occasion to Rugg's friends to make further inquiry ; but 
 the more they inquired, the more they were baflled. If 
 they heard of Rugg one day in Connecticut, the next they 
 heard of him winding round the hills in New Hampshire ; 
 and soon after a man in a chair, with a small child, exactly 
 answering the descrij)tion of Peter Rugg, would be seen in 
 Rhode Island inquiring the way to Boston. 
 
 " But that which chiefly gave a color of mystery to the 
 story of Peter Rugg was the affair at Charlestown bridge. 
 The toll-gatherer asserted that sometimes, on the darkest 
 and most stormy nights, when no ol)ject could be dis- 
 cerned, about the time Rugg was missing, a horse and 
 wheel-carriage, with a noise equal to a troop, would at 
 midnight, in utter contempt of the rates of toll, pass over 
 the bridge. This occurred so frequently that the toll- 
 gatherer resolved to attempt a discovery. Soon after, at 
 the usual time, apparently the same horse and carriage 
 approached the bridge from Charlestown square. The toll- 
 gatherer, prepared, took his stand as near the middle of 
 the bridge as he dared, with a large three-legged stool in 
 his hand ; as the appearance passed, he threw the stool 
 at the horse, but heard nothing except the noise of the 
 stool skipping across the bridge. The toll-gatherer on 
 the next day asserted that the stool went directly through 
 the body of the horse, and he persisted in that belief ever 
 after, "Whether Rugg, or whoever the person was, ever 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 17 
 
 passed the bridge again, the toll-gatherer would never tell ; 
 and when questioned, seemed anxious to waive the subject. 
 And thus Peter Uugg and his child, horse, and carriage, 
 remain a mystery to this day." 
 
 This, sir, is all that I could learn of Peter Rugg in 
 Boston. 
 
 FURTHER ACCOUNT OF PETER RUGG. 
 By Jonathan Dunwell. 
 
 In the autumn of 1825 I attended the races at Richmond 
 in Virginia. As two new horses of great promise were 
 run, the race-ground was never better attended, nor was 
 expectation ever more deeply excited. The partisans of 
 Dart and Lightning, the two race-horses, were equally 
 anxious and equally dubious of the result. To an indiffer- 
 ent spectator, it was impossible to perceive any difference. 
 They were equally beautiful to behold, alike in color and 
 height, and as they stood side by side they measured from 
 heel to forefeet within half an inch of each other. The 
 eyes of each were full, prominent, and resolute ; and 
 when at times they regarded each other, they assumed a 
 lofty demeanor, seemed to shorten their necks, project 
 their eyes, and rest their bodies equally on their four 
 hoofs. They certainly showed signs of intelligence, and 
 displayed a courtesy to each other unusual even with 
 statesmen. 
 
 It was now nearly twelve o'clock, the hour of expecta- 
 tion, doubt, and anxiety. The riders mounted their horses ; 
 and so trim, light, and airy they sat on the animals as 
 to seem a part of them. The spectators, many deep in a 
 solid column, had taken their places, and as many thou- 
 
 2 
 
18 PETER RUGG, 
 
 sand breathing statues were there as spectators. All eyes 
 were turned to Dart and Lightning and their two fairy 
 riders. There was nothing to disturb this calm except 
 a busy woodpecker on a neighboring tree. The signal 
 was given, and Dart and Lightning answered it with 
 ready intelligence. At first they proceed at a slow trot, 
 then they quicken to a canter, and then a gallop ; pres- 
 ently they sweep the plain. Both horses lay themselves 
 flat on the ground, their riders bending forward and rest- 
 ing their chins between their horses' ears. Had not the 
 ground been perfectly level, had there been any undula- 
 tion, the least rise and fall, the spectator would now and 
 then have lost sight of both horses and riders. 
 
 While these horses, side by side, thus appeared, flying 
 without wings, flat as a hare, and neither gaining on the 
 other, all eyes were diverted to a new spectacle. Directly 
 in the rear of Dart and Lightning, a majestic black horse 
 of unusual size, drawing an old weather-beaten chair, 
 strode over the plain ; and although he appeared to make 
 no effort, for he maintained a steady trot, before Dart and 
 Lightning approached the goal the black horse and chair 
 had overtaken the racers, who, on perceiving this new 
 competitor pass them, threw back their ears, and suddenly 
 stopped in their course. Thus neither Dart nor Lightning 
 carried away the purse. 
 
 The spectators now were exceedingly curious to learn 
 whence came the black horse and chair. With many it 
 was the opinion that nobody was in the vehicle. Lideed, 
 this began to be the prevalent opinion ; for those at a short 
 distance, so fleet was the black horse, could not easily 
 discern who, if anybody, was in the carriage. But both 
 the riders, very near to whom the black horse passed, 
 agreed in this particular, — that a sad-looking man and 
 a little girl were in the chair. When they stated this I 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 19 
 
 was satisfied that the man was Peter Rugg. But what 
 caused no little surprise, John Spring, one of the riders 
 (he who rode Lightning) asserted that no earthly horse 
 without breaking his trot could, in a carriage, outstrip 
 his race-horse ; and he persisted, with some passion, that 
 it was not a horse, — or, he was sure it was not a horse, 
 but a large black ox. " What a great black ox can do," 
 said John, " I cannot pretend to say ; but no race-horse, 
 not even flying Childers, could out-trot Lightning in a 
 fair race." 
 
 This opinion of John Spring excited no little merriment, 
 for it was obvious to every one that it was a powerful 
 black horse that interrupted the race; but John Spring, 
 jealous of Lightning's reputation as a horse, would rather 
 have it thought that any other beast, even an ox, had been 
 the victor. However, the " horse-laugh " at John Spring's 
 expense was soon suppressed ; for as soon as Dart and 
 Lightning began to breathe more freely, it was observed 
 that both of them walked deliberately to the track of the 
 race-ground, and putting their heads to the earth, sud- 
 denly raised them again and began to snort. They re- 
 peated this till John Spring said, — " These horses have 
 discovered something strange ; they suspect foul play. Let 
 me go and talk with Lightning." 
 
 He went up to Lightning and took hold of his mane ; 
 and Lightning put his nose toward the ground and smelt 
 of the earth without touching it, then reared his head 
 very high, and snorted so loudly that the sound echoed 
 from the next hill. Dart did the same. John Spring 
 stooped down to examine the spot where Lightning had 
 smelled. In a moment he raised himself up, and the coun- 
 tenance of the man was changed. His strength failed him, 
 and he sidled against Lightning. 
 
 At length John Spring recovered from his stupor and 
 
20 PETER RUGG, 
 
 exclaimed, " It was an ox ! I told you it was an ox. No 
 real horse ever yet beat Lightning." 
 
 And now, on a close inspection of the black horse's 
 tracks in the path, it was evident to every one that the 
 forefeet of the black horse were cloven. Notwithstanding 
 these appearances, to me it was evident that the strange 
 horse was in reality a horse. Yet Avhen the people left the 
 race-ground, I presume one half of all those present would 
 have testified that a large black ox had distanced two of 
 the fleetest coursers that ever trod the Virginia turf. So 
 uncertain are all things called historical facts. 
 
 While I was proceeding to my lodgings, pondering on 
 the events of the day, a stranger rocie up to me, and 
 accosted me thus, — " I think your name is Dun well, sir." 
 
 " Yes, sir," I replied. 
 
 " Did I not see you a year or two since in Boston, at the 
 Marlborough Hotel ? " 
 
 " Very likely, sir, for I was there." 
 
 " And you heard a story about one Peter Rugg ? " 
 
 « I recollect it all," said I. 
 
 " The account you heard in Boston must be true, for here 
 he was to-day. The man has found his way to Virginia, 
 and for aught that appears, has been to Cape Horn. 1 
 have seen him before to-day, but never saw him travel with 
 such fearful velocity. Pray, sir, where does Peter Rugg 
 spend his winters, for I have seen him only in summer, 
 and always in foul weather, except this time ? " 
 
 I replied, " No one knows where Peter Rugg spends his 
 winters ; where or when he eats, drinks, sleeps, or lodges. 
 He seems to have an indistinct idea of day and night, time 
 and space, storm and sunshine. His only object is Boston. 
 It appears to me that Rugg's horse has some control of 
 the chair ; and that Rugg himself is, in some sort, under 
 the control of his horse." 
 
THE MISSINa MAN. 21 
 
 I then inquired of the stranger where he first saw the 
 man and horse. 
 
 " Why, sir," said he, " in the summer of 1824, 1 travelled 
 to the North for my health ; and soon after I saw you at 
 the Marlborough Hotel I returned homeward to Virginia, 
 and, if my memory is correct, I saw this man and horse in 
 every State between here and Massachusetts. Sometimes 
 he would meet me, but oftener overtake me. He never 
 spoke but once, and that once was in Delaware. On his 
 approach he checked his horse with some difficulty. A 
 more beautiful horse I never saw ; his hide was as fair and 
 rotund and glossy as the skin of a Congo beauty. When 
 Rugg's horse approached mine he reined in his neck, bent 
 his ears forward until they met, and looked my horse full 
 in the face. My horse immediately withered into half a 
 horse, his hide curling up like a piece of burnt leather ; 
 spell-bound, he was fixed to the earth as though a nail 
 had been driven through each hoof. 
 
 " ' Sir,' said Rugg, ' perhaps you are travelling to Boston ; 
 and if so, I should be happy to accompany you, for I have lost 
 my way, and I must reach home to-night. See how sleepy 
 this little girl looks ; poor thing, she is a picture of patience.' 
 
 " ' Sir,' said I, ' it is impossible for you to reach home 
 to-night, for you are in Concord, in the county of Sussex, 
 in the State of Delaware.' 
 
 " ' What do you mean,' said he, ' by State of Delaware ? 
 If I were in Concord, that is only twenty miles from Bos- 
 ton, and my horse Lightfoot could carry me to Charles- 
 town ferry in less than two hours. You mistake, sir ; you 
 are a stranger here ; this town is nothing like Concord. 
 I am well acquainted with Concord. I went to Concord 
 when I left Boston.' 
 
 " ' But,' said I, ' you are in Concord, in the State of 
 Delaware.' 
 
22 PETER RUGG, 
 
 " ' What do you mean by State ? ' said Rugg. 
 
 " ' Why, one of the United States.' 
 
 " ' States ! ' said he, in a low voice ; ' the man is a wag, 
 and would persuade rac I am in Holland.' Then, raising 
 his voice, he said, ' You seem, sir, to be a gentleman, 
 and I entreat you to mislead me not : tell me, quickly, for 
 pity's sake, the right road to Boston, for you see my horse 
 will swallow his bits ; he has eaten nothing since I left 
 Concord.' 
 
 "'Sir,' said I, ' this town is Concord, — Concord in Dela- 
 ware, not Concord in Massachusetts ; and you are now five 
 hundred miles from Boston.' 
 
 " Rugg looked at me for a moment, more in sorrow than 
 resentment, and then repeated, ' Five hundred miles ! Un- 
 happy man, who would have thought him deranged ; but 
 nothing in this world is so deceitful as appearances. Five 
 hundred miles ! This beats Connecticut River.' 
 
 " What he meant by Connecticut River, I know not ; his 
 horse broke away, and Rugg disappeared in a moment." 
 
 I explained to the stranger the meaning of Rugg's ex- 
 pression, " Connecticut River," and the incident respecting 
 him that occurred at Hartford, as I stood on the door- 
 stone of Mr. Bennett's excellent hotel. We both agreed 
 that the man we had seen that day was the true Peter 
 Rugg. 
 
 Soon after, I saw Rugg again, at the toll-gate on the 
 turnpike between Alexandria and Middleburgh. While I 
 was paying the toll, I observed to the toll-gatherer, that 
 the drought was more severe in his vicinity than farther 
 south. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " the drought is excessive ; but if I had 
 not heard yesterday, by a traveller, that the man with the 
 black horse was seen in Kentucky a day or two since, I 
 should be sure of a shower in a few minutes." 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 23 
 
 I looked all around the horizon, and could not discern 
 a cloud that could hold a pint of water. 
 
 " Look, sir," said the toll-gatherer, " you perceive to the 
 eastward, just above that hill, a small black cloud not 
 bigger than a blackberry, and while I am speaking it is 
 doubling and trebling itself, and rolling up the turnpike 
 steadily, as if its sole design was to deluge some object." 
 
 " True," said I, " I do perceive it ; but what connection 
 is there between a thunder-cloud and a man and horse ? " 
 
 " More than you imagine, or I can tell you ; but stop a 
 moment, sir, I may need your assistance. I know that 
 cloud ; I have seen it several times before, and can testify 
 to its identity. You w^ill soon see a man and black horse 
 under it." 
 
 While he was speaking, true enough, we began to hear 
 the distant thunder, and soon the chain-lightning per- 
 formed all the figures of a country-dance. About a mile 
 distant we saw the man and black horse under the cloud ; 
 but before he arrived at the toll-gate, the thunder-cloud 
 had spent itself, and not even a sprinkle fell near us. 
 
 As the man, whom I instantly knew to be Rugg, at- 
 tempted to pass, the toll-gatherer swung the gate across 
 the road, seized Rugg's horse by the reins, and demanded 
 two dollars. 
 
 Feeling some little regard for Rugg, I interfered, and 
 began to question the toll-gatherer, and requested him not 
 to be wroth with the man. The toll-gatherer replied that 
 he had just cause, for the man had run his toll ten times, 
 and moreover that the horse had discharged a cannon-ball 
 at him, to the great danger of his life ; that the man 
 had always before approaclied so rapidly that he was too 
 quick for the rusty hinges of the toll-gate ; " but now I 
 will have full satisfaction." 
 
 Rugg looked wistfully at me, and said, " I entreat you, 
 
.24 PETER RUGG, 
 
 sir, to delay me not ; I have found at length the direct 
 road to Boston, and shall not reach home before night if 
 you detain me. You see 1 am dripping wet, and ought 
 to change my clothes." 
 
 The toll-gatherer then demanded why he had run his 
 toll so many times. 
 
 " Toll ! Why," said Rugg, " do you demand toll ? There 
 is no toll to pay on the king's highway." 
 
 " King's highway ! Do you nut perceive this is a 
 turnpike ? " 
 
 " Turnpike ! there are no turnpikes in Massachusetts." 
 
 "That may be, but we have several in Virginia." 
 
 " Virginia ! Do you pretend I am in Virginia ? " 
 
 Rugg then, appealing to mc, asked how far it was to 
 Boston. 
 
 Said I, " Mr. Rugg, I perceive you are bewildered, and 
 am sorry to see you so far from home ; you are, indeed, 
 in Virginia." 
 
 "You know me, tlien, sir, it seems ; and you say I am 
 in Virginia. Give me leave to tell you, sir, you are the 
 most impudent man alive ; for I was never forty miles 
 from Boston, and I never saw a Virginian in my life. 
 This beats Delaware ! " 
 
 " Your toll, sir, your toll ! " 
 
 " I will not pay you a penny," said Rugg ; " you are both 
 of you highway robbers. There are no turnpikes in this 
 country. Take toll on the king's highway ! Robbers take 
 toll on the king's highway ! " Then in a low tone, he said, 
 " Here is evidently a conspiracy against me ; alas, I shall 
 never see Boston ! The highways refuse me a passage, the 
 rivers change their courses, and there is no faith in the 
 compass." 
 
 But Rugg's horse had no idea of stopping more than one 
 minute ; for in the midst of this altercation, the horse, 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 25 
 
 whose nose was resting on the upper bar of the turnpike- 
 gate, seized it between his teeth, lifted it gently off its 
 staples, and trotted off with it. The toll-gatherer, con- 
 founded, strained his eyes after his gate. 
 
 " Let him go," said I, "the horse will soon drop your 
 gate, and you will get it again." 
 
 I then questioned the toll-gatherer respecting his 
 knowledge of this man ; and he related the following 
 particulars : — 
 
 " The first time," said he, " that man ever passed this 
 toll-gate was in the year 1806, at the moment of the great 
 eclipse. I thought the horse was frightened at the sudden 
 darkness, and concluded he had run away with the man. 
 But within a few days after, the same man and horse 
 repassed with equal speed, without the least respect to the 
 toll-gate or to me, except by a vacant stare. Some few 
 years afterward, during the late war, I saw the same man 
 approaching again, and I resolved to check his career. 
 Accordingly I stepped into the middle of the road, and 
 stretched wide both my arms, and cried, * Stop, sir, on your 
 peril!' At this the man said, 'Now, Lightfoot, confound 
 the robber ! ' at the same time he gave the whip liberally 
 to the flank of his horse, which bounded off with such force 
 that it appeared to me two such horses, give them a place 
 to stand, would overcome any check man could devise. 
 An ammunition wagon which had just passed on to Bal- 
 timore had dropped an eighteen pounder in the road; 
 this unlucky ball lay in the way of the horse's heels, and 
 the beast, with the sagacity of a demon, clinched it with 
 one of his heels and hurled it behind him. I feel dizzy 
 in relating the fact, but so nearly did the ball pass my 
 head, that the wind thereof blew off my hat ; and the ball 
 embedded itself in that gate-post, as you may see if you will 
 cast your eye on the post. I have permitted it to remain 
 
26 PETER RUGG, 
 
 there in memory of the occurrence, — as the people of Bos- 
 ton, I am told, preserve the eightcen-poundcr which is now 
 to be seen half embedded in Brattle Street church." 
 
 I then took leave of the toll-gatherer, and promised him 
 if I saw or heard of his gate I would send hhn notice. 
 
 A strong inclination had possessed me to arrest Rugg 
 and search his pockets, thinking great discoveries might 
 be made in the examination ; but what I saw and heard 
 that day convinced me that no human force could detain 
 Peter Rugg against his consent. I therefore determined 
 if I ever saw Rugg again to treat him in the gentlest 
 manner. 
 
 In pursuing my way to New York, I entered on the 
 turnpike in Trenton ; and when I arrived at New Bruns- 
 wick, I perceived the road was newly macadamized. The 
 small stones had just been laid thereon. As I passed this 
 piece of road, I observed that, at regular distances of about 
 eight feet, the stones were entirely displaced from spots 
 as lai'gc as the circumference of a half-bushel measure. 
 This singular appearance induced me to inquire the cause 
 of it at the turnpike-gate. 
 
 "Sir," said the toll-gatherer, "I wonder not at the ques- 
 tion, but I am unable to give you a satisfactory answer. 
 Indeed, sir, I believe I am bewitched, and that the turn- 
 pike is under a spell of enchantment ; for what appeared 
 to me last night cannot be a real transaction, otherwise 
 a turnpike-gate is a useless thing." 
 
 " I do not believe in witchcraft or enchantment," said I ; 
 " and if you will relate circumstantially what happened last 
 night, I will endeavor to account for it by natural means." 
 
 " You may recollect the night was uncommonly dark. 
 "Well, sir, just after I had closed the gate for the night, 
 down the turnpike, as far as my eye could reach, I beheld 
 what at first appeared to be two armies engaged. The 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 27 
 
 report of the musketry, and the flashes of their firelocks, 
 were incessant and continuous. As this strange spectacle 
 approached me with the fury of a tornado, the noise in- 
 creased ; and the appearance rolled on in one compact body 
 over the surface of the ground. The most splendid fire- 
 works rose out of the earth and encircled this moving 
 spectacle. The divers tints of the rainbow, the most brill- 
 iant dyes that the sun lays in the lap of spring, added to 
 the whole family of gems, could not display a more beau- 
 tiful, radiant, and dazzling spectacle than accompanied the 
 black horse. You would have thought all the stars of 
 heaven had met in merriment on the turnpike. In the 
 midst of this luminous configuration sat a man, distinctly 
 to be seen, in a miserable-looking chair, drawn by a black 
 horse. The turnpike-gate ought, by the laws of Nature 
 and the laws of the State, to have made a wreck of the 
 whole, and have dissolved the enchantment; but no, the 
 horse without an effort passed over the gate, and drew 
 the man and chair horizontally after him without touch- 
 ing the bar. This was what I call enchantment. "What 
 think you, sir ?" 
 
 " My friend," said I, " you have grossly magnified a nat- 
 ural occurrence. The man was Peter Rugg, on his way 
 to Boston. It is true, his horse travelled with unequalled 
 speed, but as he reared high his forefeet, he could not 
 help displacing the thousand small stones on which he 
 trod, which flying in all directions struck one another, and 
 resounded and scintillated. The top bar of your gate is not 
 more than two feet from the ground, and Rugg's horse at 
 every vault could easily lift the carriage over that gate." 
 
 This satisfied Mr. McDoubt, and I was pleased at that 
 occurrence ; for otherwise Mr. McDoubt, who is a worthy 
 man, late from the Higlilands, might have added to his 
 calendar of superstitions. Having thus disenchanted the 
 
28 PETER EUGG, 
 
 macadamized road and the turnpike-gate, and also Mr. 
 McDoubt, I pursued my journey homeward to New York. 
 
 Little did I expect to see or hear anything further of Mr. 
 Ruo-o;, for he was now more than twelve hours in advance 
 of me. I could hear nothing of him on my way to Eliza- 
 bethtown, and therefore concluded that during the past 
 night he had turned off from the turnpike and pursued 
 a westerly direction ; but just before I arrived at Powles's 
 Hook, I observed a considerable collection of passengers 
 in the ferry-boat, all standing motionless, and steadily 
 looking at the same object. One of the ferry-men, Mr. 
 Hardy, who knew me well, observing my approach de- 
 layed a minute, in order to afford mc a passage, and 
 coming up, said, " Mr. Dunwcll, we have a curiosity on 
 board that would puzzle Dr. Mitchell." 
 
 " Some strange fish, I suppose, has found its way into 
 the Hudson." 
 
 " No," said he, " it is a man who looks as if he had 
 lain hidden in the ark, and had just now ventured out. 
 He has a little girl with him, the counterpart of himself, 
 and the finest horse you ever saw, harnessed to the 
 queerest-looking carriage that ever was made." 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Hardy," said I, " you have, indeed, hooked a 
 prize ; no one before you could ever detain Peter Rugg 
 long enough to examine him." 
 
 " Do you know the man ? " said Mr. Hardy. 
 
 " No, nobody knows him, but everybody has seen him. 
 Detain him as long as possible ; delay the boat under any 
 pretence, cut the gear of the horse, do anything to detain 
 him." 
 
 As I entered the ferry-boat, I was struck at the spectacle 
 before me. There, indeed, sat Peter Rugg and Jenny Rugg 
 in the chair, and there stood the black horse, all as quiet 
 as lambs, surrounded by more than fifty men and women. 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 29 
 
 who seemed to have lost all their senses but one. Not a 
 motion, not a breath, not a nestle. They were all eye. 
 Rugg appeared to them to be a man not of this world ; and 
 they appeared to Rugg a strange generation of men. Rugg 
 spoke not, and they spoke not; nor was I disposed to dis- 
 turb the calm, satisfied to reconnoitre Rugg in a state of 
 rest. Presently, Rugg observed in a low voice, addressed 
 to nobody, "A new contrivance, horses instead of oars; 
 Boston folks are full of notions." 
 
 It was plain that Rugg was of Dutch extraction. He 
 had on three pairs of small clothes, called in former 
 days of simplicity breeches, not much the worse for 
 wear ; but time had proved the fabric, and shrunk one 
 more than another, so that they showed at the knees 
 their different qualities and colors. His several waist- 
 coats, the flaps of which rested on his knees, made him 
 appear rather corpulent. His capacious drab coat would 
 supply the stuff for half a dozen modern ones ; the sleeves 
 were like meal bags, in the cuffs of which you might 
 nurse a child to sleep. His hat, probably once black, now 
 of a tan color, was neither round nor crooked, but in shape 
 much like the one President Monroe wore on his late tour. 
 This dress gave the rotund face of Rugg an antiquated dig' 
 nity. The man, though deeply sunburned, did not appear 
 to be more than thirty years of age. He had lost his sad 
 and anxious look, was quite composed, and seemed happy. 
 The chair in which Rugg sat was very capacious, evidently 
 made for service, and calculated to last for ages; the 
 timber would supply material for three modern carriages. 
 This chair, like a Nantucket coach, would answer for every- 
 thing that ever went on wheels. The horse, too, was an 
 object of curiosity ; his majestic height, his natural mane 
 and tail, gave him a commanding appearance, and his 
 large open nostrils indicated inexhaustible wind. It was 
 
30 PETER RUGG, 
 
 apparent that the hoofs of his forefeet had been split, 
 probably on some newly macadamized road, and were now 
 growing together again ; so that John Spring was not 
 altogether in the wrong. 
 
 How long this dumb scene would otherwise have con- 
 tinued I cannot tell. Rugg discovered no sign of im- 
 patience. But Rugg's horse having been quiet more than 
 five minutes, had no idea of standing idle ; he began to 
 whinny, and in a moment after, with his right forefoot he 
 started a plank. Said Rugg, " My horse is impatient, he 
 sees the North End. You must be quick, or he will be 
 ungovernable." 
 
 At these words, the horse raised his left forefoot ; and 
 when he laid it down every inch of the ferry-boat trembled. 
 Two men immediately seized Rugg's horse by the nostrils. 
 The horse nodded, and both of them were in the Hudson. 
 "While we were fishing up the men, the horse was perfectly 
 quiet. 
 
 " Fret not the horse," said Rugg, " and he will do no 
 harm. He is only anxious, like myself, to arrive at yonder 
 beautiful shore; he sees the North Church, and smells 
 his own stable." 
 
 " Sir," said I to Rugg, practising a little deception, 
 " pray tell me, for I am a stranger here, what river is this, 
 and wliat city is that opposite, for you. seem to be an 
 inhabitant of it ? " 
 
 " This river, sir, is called Mystic River, and this is Win- 
 nisimmet ferry, — we have retained the Indian names, — 
 and that town is Boston. You must, indeed, be a stranger 
 in these parts, not to know that yonder is Boston, the 
 capital of the New England provinces." 
 
 " Pray, sir, how long have you been absent from 
 Boston ? " 
 
 " Why, that I cannot exactly tell. I lately went with 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 31 
 
 this little girl of mine to Concord, to see my friends ; 
 and I am ashamed to tell you, in returning lost the way, 
 and have been travelling ever since. No one would direct 
 me right. It is cruel to mislead a traveller. My horse, 
 Lightfoot, has boxed the compass ; and it seems to me he 
 has boxed it back again. But, sir, you perceive my horse 
 is uneasy ; Lightfoot, as yet, has only given a hint and a 
 nod. I cannot be answerable for his heels." 
 
 At these words Lightfoot reared his long tail, and 
 snapped it as you would a whiplash. The Hudson re- 
 verberated with the sound. Instantly the six horses be- 
 gan to move the boat. The Hudson was a sea of glass, 
 smooth as oil^ not a ripple. The horses, from a smart trot, 
 soon pressed into a gallop ; water now run over the gun- 
 wale ; the ferry-boat was soon buried in an ocean of foam, 
 and the noise of the spray was like the roaring of many 
 waters. When we arrived at New York, you might see 
 the beautiful white wake of the ferry-boat across the 
 Hudson. 
 
 Though Rugg refused to pay toll at turnpikes, when Mr. 
 Hardy reached his hand for the ferriage, Rugg readily put 
 his hand into one of his many pockets, took out a piece 
 of silver, and handed it to Hardy. 
 
 "What is this?" said Mr. Hardy. 
 
 " It is thirty shillings," said Rugg. 
 
 "It might once have been thirty shillings, old tenor," 
 said Mr. Hardy, "but it is not at present." 
 
 " The money is good English coin," said Rugg ; " my 
 grandfather brought a bag of them from England, and 
 had them hot from the mint." 
 
 Hearing this, I approached near to Rugg, and asked 
 permission to see the coin. It was a half-crown, coined 
 by the English Parliament, dated in the year 1649. On 
 one side, " The Commonwealth of England," and St. 
 
32 PETER RUGG, 
 
 George's cross encircled with a wreath of laurel. On the 
 other, " God with us," and a harp and St. George's cross 
 united. I winked at Mr. Hardy, and pronounced it good 
 current money ; and said loudly, " I will not permit the 
 gentleman to be imposed on, for I will exchange the 
 money myself." 
 
 On this, Rugg spoke, — " Please to give me your name, 
 sir." 
 
 " My name is Dunwell, sir," I replied. 
 
 " Mr. Dunwell," said Rugg, " you are the only honest 
 man I have seen since I left Boston. As you are a stran- 
 ger here, my house is your home ; Dame Rugg will be 
 happy to see her husband's friend. Step into my chair, 
 sir, there is room enough ; move a little, Jenny, for the 
 gentleman, and we will be in Middle Street in a minute." 
 
 Accordingly I took a seat by Peter Rugg. 
 
 " Were you never in Boston before ? " said Rugg. 
 
 « No," said I. 
 
 " "Well, you will now see the queen of New England, a 
 town second only to Philadelphia, in all North America." 
 
 " You forget New York," said I. 
 
 "Poh, New York is nothing; though I never was there. 
 I am told you might put all New York in our mill-pond. 
 No, sir, New York, I assure you, is but a sorry affair; no 
 more to be compared with Boston than a wigwam with 
 a palace." 
 
 As Rugg's horse turned into Pearl Street, I looked Rugg 
 as fully in the face as good manners would allow, and said, 
 " Sir, if this is Boston, I acknowledge New York is not 
 worthy to be one of its suburbs." 
 
 Before we had proceeded far in Pearl Street, Rugg's 
 countenance changed : his nerves began to twitch ; his eyes 
 trembled in their sockets; he was evidently bewildered. 
 "What' is the matter, Mr. Rugg; you seem disturbed." 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 33 
 
 " This surpasses all human comprehension ; if you know, 
 sir, where we are, I beseech you to tell me." 
 
 " If this place," I replied, " is not Boston, it must be 
 New York." 
 
 " No, sir, it is not Boston ; nor can it be New York. 
 How could I be in New York, which is nearly two hun- 
 dred miles from Boston?" 
 
 By this time we had passed into Broadway, and then 
 Rugg, in truth, discovered a chaotic mind. " There is 
 no such place as this in North America. This is all the 
 effect of enchantment ; this is a grand delusion, nothing 
 real. Here is seemingly a great city, magnificent houses, 
 shops and goods, men and women innumerable, and as 
 busy as in real life, all sprung up in one night from the 
 wilderness ; or what is more probable, some tremendous 
 convulsion of Nature has thrown London or Amsterdam 
 on the shores of New England. Or, possibly, 1 may be 
 dreaming, though the night seems rather long ; but before 
 now I have sailed in one night to Amsterdam, bought goods 
 of Yandogger, and returned to Boston before morning." 
 
 At this moment a hue-and-cry was heard, " Stop the 
 madmen, they will endanger the lives of thousands ! " In 
 vain hundreds attempted to stop Rugg's horse. Lightfoot 
 interfered with nothing ; his course was straight as a 
 shooting-star. But on my part, fearful that before night 
 I should find myself behind the Alleghanies, I addressed 
 Mr. Rugg in a tone of entreaty, and requested him to 
 restrain the horse and permit me to alight. 
 
 " My friend," said he, " we shall be in Boston before 
 dark, and Dame Rugg will be most exceeding glad to 
 see us." 
 
 " Mr. Rugg," said I, " you must excuse me. Pray look 
 to the west ; see that thunder-cloud swelling with rage, as 
 if in pursuit of us." 
 
 3 
 
34 PETER RUGG, 
 
 " Ah," said Rugg, " it is in vain to attempt to escape. 
 I know that cloud ; it is collecting new wrath to spend on 
 my head." Then checking his horse, he permitted me to 
 descend, saying, " Farewell, Mr. Dunwell, I shall be happy 
 to see you in Boston ; I live in Middle Street." 
 
 It is uncertain in what direction Mr. Rugg pursued his 
 course, after he disappeared in Broadway ; but one thing 
 is sufficiently known to everybody, — that in the course of 
 two months after he was seen in New York, he found his 
 way most opportunely to Boston. 
 
 It seems the estate of Peter Rugg had recently fallen to 
 the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for want of heirs ; 
 and the Legislature had ordered the solicitor-general to 
 advertise and sell it at public auction. Happening to be 
 in Boston at the time, and observing his advertisement, 
 which described a considerable extent of land, I felt a 
 kindly curiosity to see the spot where Rugg once lived. 
 Taking the advertisement in my hand, I wandered a little 
 way down Middle Street, and without asking a question 
 of any one, when I came to a certain spot I said to my- 
 self, " This is Rugg's estate ; I will proceed no farther. 
 This must be the spot ; it is a counterpart of Peter 
 Rugg." The premises, indeed, looked as if they had ful- 
 filled a sad prophecy. Fronting on Middle Street, they 
 extended in the rear to Ann Street, and embraced about 
 half an acre of land. It was not uncommon in former 
 times to have half an acre for a house-lot ; for an acre 
 of land then, in many parts of Boston, was not more 
 valuable than a foot in some places at present. The old 
 mansion-house had become a powder-post, and been blown 
 away. One other building, uninhabited, stood ominous, 
 courting dilapidation. The street had been so much raised 
 that the bed-chamber had descended to the kitchen and was 
 level with the street. The house seemed conscious of its 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 35 
 
 fate ; and as though tired of standing there, the front was 
 fast retreating from the rear, and waiting the next south 
 wind to project itself into the street. If the most wary 
 animals had sought a place of refuge, here they would 
 have rendezvoused. Here, under the ridge-pole, the crow 
 would have perched in security ; and in the recesses be- 
 low, you might have caught the fox and the weasel asleep. 
 " The hand of destiny," said I, " has pressed heavy on 
 this spot ; still heavier on the former owners. Strange 
 that so large a lot of land as this should want an heir ! 
 Yet Peter Rugg, at this day, might pass by his own door- 
 stone, and ask, ' Who once lived here ? ' " 
 
 The auctioneer, appointed by the solicitor to sell this 
 estate, was a man of eloquence, as many of the auctioneers 
 of Boston are. The occasion seemed to warrant, and his 
 duty urged, him to make a display. He addressed his 
 audience as follows, — 
 
 " The estate, gentlemen, which we offer you this day, 
 was once the property of a family now extinct. For that 
 reason it has escheated to the Commonwealth. Lest any 
 one of you should be deterred from bidding on so large 
 an estate as this for fear of a disputed title, I am author- 
 ized by the solicitor-general to proclaim that the purchaser 
 shall have the best of all titles, — a warranty-deed from the 
 Commonwealth. I state *this, gentlemen, because I know 
 there is an idle rumor in this vicinity, that one Peter Rugg, 
 the original owner of this estate, is still living. This 
 rumor, gentlemen, has no foundation, and can have no 
 foundation in the nature of things. It originated about 
 two years since, from the incredible story of one Jonathan 
 Dunwell, of New York. Mrs. Croft, indeed, whose hus- 
 band I see present, and whose mouth waters for this estate, 
 has countenanced this fiction. But, gentlemen, was it ever 
 known that any estate, especially an estate of this value, 
 
36 PETER RUGG, 
 
 lay unclaimed for nearly half a century, if any heir, ever so 
 remote, were existing ? For, gentlemen, all agree that old 
 Peter Rugg, if living, would be at least one hundred years 
 of age. It is said that he and his daughter, with a horse 
 and chaise, were missed more than half a century ago ; and 
 because they never returned home, forsooth, they must be 
 now living, and will some day come and claim this great 
 estate. Such logic, gentlemen, never led to a good invest- 
 ment. Let not this idle story cross the noble purpose of 
 consigning these ruins to the genius of architecture. If 
 such a contingency could check the spirit of enterprise, 
 farewell to all mercantile excitement. Your surplus money, 
 instead of refreshing your sleep with the golden dreams of 
 new sources of speculation, would turn to the nightmare. 
 A man's money, if not employed, serves only to disturb his 
 rest. Look, then, to the prospect before you. Here is half 
 an acre of land, — more than twenty thousand square feet, — 
 a corner lot, with wonderful capabilities ; none of your con- 
 tracted lots of forty feet by fifty, where, in dog-days, you 
 can breathe only through your scuttles. On the contrary, 
 an architect cannot contemplate this lot of land without 
 rapture, for here is room enough for his genius to shame 
 the temple of Solomon. Then the prospect — how com- 
 manding ! To the east, so near to the Atlantic that Nep- 
 tune, freighted with the select treasures of the whole earth, 
 can knock at your door with his trident. From the west, 
 the produce of the river of Paradise — the Connecticut — 
 will soon, by the blessings of steam, railways, and canals, 
 pass under your windows ; and thus, on this spot, Neptune 
 shall marry Ceres, and Pomona from Roxbury, and Flora 
 from Cambridge, shall dance at the wedding. 
 
 " Gentlemen of science, men of taste, ye of the literary 
 emporium, — for I perceive many of you present, — to you 
 this is holy ground. If the spot on which in times past 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 37 
 
 a hero left only the print of a footstep is now sacred, of 
 what price is the birthplace of one who all the world 
 knows was born in Middle Street, directly opposite to this 
 lot ; and who, if his birthplace were not well known, would 
 now be claimed by more than seven cities. To you, then, 
 the value of these premises must be inestimable. For 
 ere long there will arise in full view of the edifice to be 
 erected here, a monument, the wonder and veneration of 
 the world. A column shall spring to the clouds ; and on 
 that column will be engraven one word which will convey 
 all that is wise in intellect, useful in science, good in 
 morals, prudent in counsel, and benevolent in principle, — 
 a name of one who, when living, was the patron of the 
 poor, the delight of the cottage, and the admiration of 
 kings ; now dead, worth the whole seven wise men of 
 Greece. Need I tell you his name ? He fixed the thun- 
 der and guided the lightning. 
 
 " Men of the North End ! Need I appeal to your patriot- 
 ism, in order to enhance the value of this lot ? The earth 
 affords no such scenery as this ; there, around that corner, 
 lived James Otis ; here, Samuel Adams ; there, Joseph 
 "Warren ; and around that other corner, Josiah Quincy. 
 Here was the birthplace of Freedom ; here Liberty was 
 born, and nursed, and grew to manhood. Here man was 
 newly created. Here is the nursery of American Inde- 
 pendence — I am too modest — here began the eman- 
 cipation of the world ; a thousand generations hence 
 millions of men will cross the Atlantic just to look at 
 the north end of Boston. Your fathers — what do I 
 say — yourselves, — yes, this moment, I behold several at- 
 tending this auction who lent a hand to rock the cradle 
 of Independence. 
 
 " Men of speculation, — ye who are deaf to everything ex- 
 cept the sound of money, — you, I know, will give me both 
 
38 PETER RUGG, 
 
 of your ears when 1 tell you the city of Boston must have 
 a piece of this estate in order to widen Ann Street. Do 
 you hear me, — do you all hear me ? I say the city must 
 have a large, piece of this land in order to widen Ann 
 Street. What a chance ! The city scorns to take a man's 
 land for nothing. If it seizes your property, it is gen- 
 erous beyond the dreams of avarice. The only oppres- 
 sion is, you are in danger of being smothered under a load 
 of wealth. "Witness the old lady who lately died of a 
 broken heart when the mayor paid her for a piece of her 
 kitchen-garden. All the faculty agreed that the sight of 
 the treasure, which the mayor incautiously paid her in 
 dazzling dollars, warm from the mint, sped joyfully all the 
 blood of her body into her heart, and rent it with raptures. 
 Therefore, let liim who purchases this estate fear his good 
 fortune, and not Peter Rugg. Bid, then, liberally, and do 
 not let the name of Rugg damp your ardor. How much 
 will you give per foot for this estate ? " 
 
 Thus spoke the auctioneer, and gracefully waved his 
 ivory hammer. From fifty to seventy-five cents per foot 
 were offered in a few moments. The bidding labored from 
 seventy-five to ninety. At length one dollar was offered. 
 The auctioneer seemed satisfied ; and looking at his watch, 
 said he would knock off the estate in five minutes, if no 
 one offered more. 
 
 There was a deep silence during this short period. 
 While the hammer was suspended, a strange rumbling 
 noise was heard, which arrested the attention of every 
 one. Presently, it was like the sound of many shipwrights 
 driving home the bolts of a seventy-four. As the sound 
 approached nearer, some exclaimed, " The buildings in the 
 new market are falling in promiscuous ruins." Others 
 said, " No, it is an earthquake ; we perceive the earth 
 tremble." Others said, " Not so ; the sound proceeds from 
 
THE MISSING MAN. 39 
 
 Hanover Street, and approaches nearer ; " and this proved 
 true, for presently Peter Rugg was in the midst of us. 
 
 " Alas, Jenny," said Peter, " I am ruined ; our house 
 has been burned, and here are all our neighbors around the 
 ruins. Heaven grant your mother. Dame Rugg, is safe." 
 
 " They don't look like our neighbors," said Jenny ; " but 
 sure enough our house is burned, and nothing left but 
 the door-stone and an old cedar post. Do ask where 
 mother is." 
 
 In the mean time more than a thousand men had sur- 
 rounded Rugg and his horse and chair. Yet neither 
 Rugg, personally, nor his horse and carriage, attracted 
 more attention than the auctioneer. The confident look 
 and searching eyes of Rugg carried more conviction to 
 every one present that the estate was his, than could any 
 parchment or paper with signature and seal. The impres- 
 sion which the auctioneer had just made on the company 
 was effaced in a moment ; and although the latter words of 
 the auctioneer were, " Fear not Peter Rugg," the moment 
 the auctioneer met the eye of Rugg his occupation was 
 gone ; his arm fell down to his hips, his late lively hammer 
 hung heavy in his hand, and the auction was forgotten. 
 The black horse, too, gave his evidence. He knew his 
 journey was ended ; for he stretched himself into a horse 
 and a half, rested his head over the cedar post, and 
 whinnied thrice, causing his harness to tremble from 
 headstall to crupper. 
 
 Rugg then stood upright in his chair, and asked with 
 some authority, " Who has demolished my house in my 
 absence, for I see no signs of a conflagration ? I demand 
 by what accident this has happened, and wherefore this 
 collection of strange people has assembled before my door- 
 step. I thought I knew every man in Boston, but you 
 appear to me a new generation of men. Yet I am familiar 
 
40 PETER RUGG. 
 
 with manj of the countenances here present, and I can call 
 some of you by name ; but in truth I do not recollect that 
 before this moment I ever saw any one of you. There, I 
 am certain, is a Winslow, and here a Sargent ; there stands 
 a Sewall, and next to him a Dudley. Will none of you 
 speak to me, — or is this all a delusion? I see, indeed, 
 many forms of men, and no want of eyes, but of motion, 
 speech, and hearing, you seem to be destitute. Strange ! 
 Will no one inform me who lias demolished my house ? " 
 
 Then spake a voice from the crowd, but whence it came 
 I could not discern : " There is nothing strange here but 
 yourself, Mr. Rugg. Time, which destroys and renews all 
 things, has dilapidated your house, and placed us here. 
 You have suffered many years under an illusion. The 
 tempest which you profanely defied at ISIenotomy has at 
 length subsided ; but you will never see home, for your 
 house and wife and neighbors have all disappeared. Your 
 estate, indeed, remains, but no home. You were cut off 
 from the last age, and you can never be fitted to the 
 present. Your home is gone, and you can never have 
 another home in this world." 
 
THE LATE JOSEPH NATTEKSTROM. 
 
THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 
 
 THE great wealth of the late Joseph Natterstrom, of 
 New York, was connected with several remarkable 
 incidents, which under the pen of a writer of ordinary 
 imagination might grow into a romantic tale. 
 
 The merchant of the United States frequently traces the 
 origin of his prosperity to foreign climes. He holds a 
 magic wand in his hand which reaches to the extremity of 
 the globe ; and if he waves it judiciously, he levies from 
 all quarters of the world princely revenues. The restless 
 sea and its richest contents, desolate islands and the most 
 circuitous rivers, the cultiyated territory and the intermi- 
 nable wilderness, are as much the merchant's, as the rain 
 and sunshine, the warm breezes and the fattening dews, 
 are the property of the husbandman. But the embryo 
 fortune of Mr. Natterstrom was not of mercantile origin ; 
 it came from the heart of Arabia, and grew out of an in- 
 cursion of the Wheehabites, — a reforming and fanatic sect 
 of Mahometans, who date from Abdul Wheehab, of the last 
 century. This man, like Martin Luther, thought a refor- 
 mation in morals and discipline had become necessary. 
 
 About the year 1790, Ebn Beg and Ibrahim Hamet were 
 returning home from Mecca to Abou Jbee, a village not far 
 from the Rumleah mountains. They had united religion 
 and trade together, as is sometimes done here by the sons 
 of Mercury. In performing their pilgrimage to Mecca with 
 a caravan, they furthered both their temporal and eternal 
 
44 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 
 
 interests; for on their return from Mecca, they encoun- 
 tered a party of those children of the desert who believe 
 they have a divine right to all the goods of this world 
 which they can conquer, and what they spare, they credit 
 to their magnanimity and generosity, — and herein they do 
 not greatly differ from most other people. But the cara- 
 van of Beg and Hamet proved too powerful for the children 
 of Hagar, who became the prey of the stranger. The spoils 
 of that day enriched Beg and Hamet, for those Arabs 
 had shortly before enriched themselves at the expense of 
 another caravan. 
 
 With joyful hearts these two men approached home, 
 having left the caravan at the intersection of the road that 
 leads to Aleppo, rejoicing that their danger was over, that 
 they had honorably obtained an accession of wealth, and 
 that they had become entitled to the coveted name of 
 Hadji. But there soon came a blast from the desert 
 which converted the shady spot, on which they had en- 
 camped, into a sand-heap. When within a day's journey 
 from home they met a man whom they knew. It was 
 Ali Beker. Said they, " Is there peace at Abou Jbec ? " 
 " God is great, there is peace at Abou Jbec," said Ali 
 Beker, " the peace of the grave." He turned his head 
 away, and said no more. Their hearts withered within 
 them. Soon after they met another man ; as he ap- 
 proached them, he looked at them earnestly for some 
 time, and then said, " Do I behold the unhappy Beg and 
 Hamet ! " and he tore off his turban and flung it on 
 the ground. Tliey passed on, neither Beg uor Hamet 
 speaking to each other. At length they approached the 
 confines of their village, and learned the whole. The 
 Wheehabites had been there, and being powerfully resisted 
 and nearly overcome, they left nothing but a heap of ruins 
 to tell the story. Beg and Hamet were now alone on the 
 
THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 45 
 
 face of the earth. They made a circuit around Abou Jbee, 
 took a last look, and passed on to Smyrna. There they 
 remained some time, and studied the French and English 
 languages. 
 
 From Smyrna they sailed to Marseilles ; and there they 
 assumed the European dress, and studiously conformed 
 to the manners of that people, — a seemingly impossible 
 change, from a Turk to a Frenchman. From Marseilles 
 they proceeded on foot to Paris ; and after remaining there 
 a few months, they saw such strange mistakes made, that 
 fearing they might lose their heads without a chance for 
 explanation, they passed on to London, where they felt 
 quite at home. There they remained during the winter of 
 1793. Chancing to meet Captain Dixon of the New York 
 packet, who had been in the Smyrna trade, they became 
 attached to him from an accidental expression which fell 
 from his lips at the New York Coffee House. Some one 
 had asserted that there were not twenty merchants in the 
 city of New York who could pass for genuine merchants 
 on the Royal Exchange of London, — such was the mer- 
 cantile honor of Englishmen. An appeal was made to 
 Captain Dixon, who, waving a direct answer, said, " If you 
 wish to find mercantile honor in perfection, surpassing the 
 comprehension of a European, you must go to Turkey. A 
 Turkish merchant's word is better than a Christian mer- 
 chant's bond. The word is sacred ; the bond may be dis- 
 puted. I have seen many a Turk in whose skin you might 
 sew up half a dozen very decent Christians." " Allah ! " 
 said Beg, in rapture, " an infidel has spoken the truth ! I 
 wish the Prophet could hear that ! " This incident led to 
 an acquaintance with Captain Dixon, who gave them such 
 an account of the New World as excited their curiosity 
 to see it. Accordingly, they sailed soon after with Cai> 
 tain Dixon, for New York. 
 
46 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 
 
 Beg and Hamet could now speak the English lan- 
 guage quite fluently ; and concealing that they were 
 Turks, they passed in the principal cities and towns 
 for very decent Christians. Among the people of New 
 England they passed current for two Dutchmen of New 
 York or Pennsylvania ; and at Baltimore they were sup- 
 posed to be two Scotchmen, so prudently and discreetly 
 did they demean themselves. They spent a year in the 
 United States, the chief of the time at New York ; and 
 during that time they found ample food for their minds. 
 Hamet told Captain Dixon that he had brought him not 
 only to a new world, but to a new race of men : a people 
 not really civilized, yet far from savage ; not very good, 
 nor altogether bad ; not generally intelligent, nor alto- 
 gether ignorant ; a calculating people, who reckoned up 
 their rights as often as they did their money. " In fine," 
 said Hamet, " I perceive this is a very young country, but 
 a very old people." 
 
 As Beg and Hamet travelled through the States, they 
 were surprised to find so much order and tranquillity 
 among a people without any apparent government ; for 
 during nearly the whole year there was no appearance of 
 any government. In divers provinces, each of them bigger 
 than the pachalic of Damascus, a few men would meet 
 once a year, wind up the government like a clock, and 
 leave it to run at random ; for after the public agents, 
 like a dispersed caravan, had hastened home, all signs of 
 government vanished. " How different," said Beg, " from 
 all other countries, where the first object of government 
 is to make itself seen, heard, and felt; whereas, among 
 this strange people, you can neither see, hear, nor feel the 
 government." 
 
 Beg was greatly diverted in attending a lawsuit at Boston. 
 " There were five reverend judges," he said, " with twelve 
 
THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 47 
 
 men to help them, aided by four counsellors of the law, 
 who consumed a whole day and part of a niglit in settling 
 a case of twenty-five dollars ; and " said Beg, laughing, " the 
 next morning the jury, as they called the twelve men, 
 came solemnly into court and said they could not agree, 
 and never would agree. Whereas," said Beg, " one of our 
 cadis alone would have settled it in twenty minutes." 
 
 A few days previous to Beg and Hamet's return to 
 Smyrna, as Beg was passing down Wall Street, he heard 
 a man say, as he was leaving one of the offices, " I don't 
 believe there is an honest man in New York." " Oh, yes, 
 there is," said another, as he was passing ; " there is Joe 
 Natterstrom." At that moment an unaccountable trance- 
 like feeling came over Beg, and a voice, which seemed to 
 him audible, said, " Beg, before you leave the country, see 
 Natterstrom and prove his honesty." Beg had not pro- 
 ceeded far before he saw two men in conversation on the 
 sidewalk ; and as he passed them he overheard one of them 
 say, " Can I trust him with so much money ? Are you sure 
 he is honest ? " " Yes," said the other, " honest as Joe 
 Natterstrom." This second incident, to a Mussulman who 
 believed in predestination, was as imperative as the voice 
 of the Prophet. Beg responded aloud, " I will see Nat- 
 terstrom and prove his honesty." Soon after he heard 
 two men disputing in Broadway with no little passion ; 
 and as he approached them, one said, " I will refer it to 
 Joe Natterstrom." " Agreed," said the other. " So," said 
 Beg, " this Natterstrom is also a man of judgment. I will 
 certainly see Natterstrom and prove his honesty." 
 
 The next day Beg inquired for Natterstrom, and soon 
 learned that Natterstrom had become a proverb. " As 
 honest as Joe Natterstrom," was in everybody's mouth ; 
 but he could find no one who could give him any account 
 of Joe Natterstrom. All agreed that no man in New York 
 
48 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. • 
 
 was better known than Joe Natterstrom, yet no one of 
 whom Beg inquired could identify him or tell where he 
 resided. " Pray, sir," said Beg to a merchant on the Ex- 
 change, " can you point out to me Joseph Natterstrom ? " 
 " No," said he, " I cannot, but his name and reputation are 
 perfectly familiar to me ; ask almost any man and he will 
 tell you where he is to be seen." To the same question 
 another replied, " I have often heard of honest Joe Natter- 
 strom : he must be known to almost everybody ; but for 
 my part, I do not recollect ever to have seen him. Ask that 
 gentleman across the way, in a drab coat ; he knows every- 
 body." Beg then accosted the gentleman with the drab 
 coat. "Pray, sir, can you point me to Joseph Natterstrom?" 
 " Honest Joe Natterstrom, do you mean ? " " Yes, sir," 
 said Beg, " honest Joe Natterstrom." " Oh, yes, I know 
 Natterstrom," said the gentleman in drab ; " everybody 
 knows Natterstrom. There is no man in New York better 
 known than Natterstrom." " Sir," said Beg, " can you 
 describe him to me ? " "I would have affirmed a minute 
 ago," said the gentleman in drab, " that I well knew honest 
 Joe Natterstrom, but I must confess I cannot describe him 
 to you, and do not distinctly recollect that I ever saw 
 him ; but almost everybody knows Natterstrom." Beg was 
 astonished. " Here," said he, " is a man honest to a 
 proverb, and no one knows him. Honest men must be 
 very plenty in New York." 
 
 Beg now thought Natterstrom must be known at some 
 of the banks ; and he inquired at the City Bank if Joseph 
 Natterstrom ever transacted business there. " Do you 
 mean honest Joe Natterstrom?" said the cashier. "Yes," 
 said Beg. " No," replied the cashier, " but we would be 
 happy to accommodate Mr. Natterstrom if he wants a loan." 
 The cashier of the Manhattan Bank said he had paid many 
 a cheque drawn in favor of Joseph Natterstrom, but did not 
 
THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 49 
 
 recollect ever to have seen Natterstrom ; nor did he know 
 at what bank he negotiated his business, but said, " Joseph 
 Natterstrom can have any accommodation at this bank." 
 In short, Natterstrom was known by reputation at every 
 bank in the city, and it seems, could have commanded their 
 funds, but none of the officers knew him. 
 
 The next Sunday, Beg was certain he had obtained a 
 clew to the person of Natterstrom. The clergyman on 
 whose preaching Beg attended (for though a Mussulman, 
 Beg believed a full third of what he heard), spoke of 
 Natterstrom as a man of such integrity that his name 
 had become synonymous with honesty. But to Beg's sur- 
 prise, the next day the preacher told him he did not know 
 the man, nor where he resided, but supposed he was the 
 most familiarly known man in New York ; for he had 
 often heard the children in the streets mention " honest 
 Joe Natterstrom." Beg, now in despair of ever finding 
 Natterstrom, began to suppose he was an imaginary 
 being ; and as there was not an honest real man in New 
 York, the people had conjured up a phantom and given 
 it the name of Joe Natterstrom. Yet this was not the 
 fact ; for a few days after, as Beg was walking through 
 Pearl Street, he saw two men in conversation, and heard 
 one of them say, " There goes Joe Natterstrom ; let it be 
 settled by honest Joe Natterstrom." 
 
 Beg now followed Natterstrom in order to obtain a 
 knowledge of his person. " Allah ! " said Beg, after he 
 had obtained a distinct view, " he has the mark of the 
 Prophet ; he would not be ashamed to look the Sultan in 
 the face ! " The next day Beg, with studied secrecy, — 
 Hamet himself ignorant of it, — disguised himself like an 
 old man tottering on the brink of the grave. He painted 
 his face more cadaverous than the natural look of death ; 
 then, taking a bag of gold in his hand, he sought an 
 
 4 
 
50 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 
 
 opportunity about twilight, when Natterstrom was just 
 leaving his counting-room, and slowly opening the door, 
 he reached the bag, with an apparently feeble arm and 
 trembling hand, to Natterstrom, and said only, " Occupy 
 till Ebn Beg comes," disappearing in a moment, leaving 
 Natterstrom in reasonable doubt whether the occurrence 
 was natural or supernatural. Ilowever, he immediately 
 untied the bag, and to his astonishment, counted five 
 hundred English guineas. 
 
 Natterstrom stood some time in a revcry, many unutter- 
 able things probably passing in his mind. lie then reached 
 his ledger, and entered therein, " October 21st, 1794, re- 
 ceived of Mr. Eben Beck five hundred guineas to be 
 used for his benefit." Beg and Hamet, the next week, 
 left the United States, and returned by the way of Liver- 
 pool to Smyrna, where Beg established himself as a 
 merchant. 
 
 The next morning Natterstrom opened a new account 
 and [ilaced the money to the credit of Ebcnczer Beck, con- 
 sidering himself merely as the agent of Beck. From that 
 day Natterstrom kept Beck's concerns and his own entirely 
 distinct ; and from that day Natterstrom was esteemed the 
 most fortunate man in the world, although Natterstrom pro- 
 nounced himself the most unfortunate. The money of Beg 
 all prospered. It was like a snow-ball in a damp day roll- 
 ing down the White Mountains. It doubled and trebled 
 itself like an assemblage of clouds driven by contrary 
 winds, while Natterstrom's own property was dissipated 
 like a mist in summer. He seldom saw his own money but 
 once ; the winds, the waves, and the rocks in the sea, all 
 conspired against Natterstrom. The same tempest which 
 wrecked Natterstrom's ship on the rock Rodondo, drove 
 Beg's into a famished port in the West Indies, where they 
 weighed silver against flour. The commissions on Beg's 
 
THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 51 
 
 adventure retrieved Natterstrom's late loss and gave him 
 the command of a great sum as the agent of Beg. 
 
 Natterstrom was among the first to embark in trade to 
 the Levant. The situation of the commercial world was 
 most inviting to the commerce of the United States. All 
 the world was a new milch cow to the merchant. While 
 all Europe was fighting for this cow, and one nation was 
 seizing her by the horns, another by the tail, a third by 
 her fore-leg, and a fourth by her hind-leg, the merchant 
 of the United States was sitting beside her, milking as 
 quietly as a milkmaid. Natterstrom freighted two ships, 
 one on his own, the other on Beck's account, and sent 
 them to Smyrna. Captain Dixon commanded Beck's and 
 Captain Hathaway, Natterstrom's ship. On their arrival 
 in the roadstead of Smyrna, they hoisted the flag of the 
 United States, which excited no little curiosity on shore, 
 for very few of the Smyrniots had ever seen our national 
 colors. It soon came to Beg's ears that two ships from 
 the New World, heavily laden, were at anchor in the offing. 
 He was immediately on board the nearest, which proved 
 to be Captain Hathaway's ; and learning they were both 
 from New York, he was greatly delighted. Beg was in- 
 vited into the cabin, and, at his request, was shown an 
 invoice of the cargo. When he had read it, he cast it on 
 the table, and said, " I pity the owner ; every article is a 
 drug here, and would better suit the New York market." 
 " That is Natterstrom's ill-luck," said Captain Hathaway : 
 " if he had shipped gold, it would have transmuted itself 
 into brass ; if he held in his hands the rain of heaven, it 
 would descend in mildew. Whatever he touches with his 
 own hand, he poisons ; but whatever he touches with 
 Beck's hand, he converts to gold. I dare say Beck's cargo 
 will turn to. good account." "Natterstrom," said Beg, 
 "Natterstrom, what Natterstrom? I was once in New 
 
52 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 
 
 York, and knew a Mr. Natterstrom ; they called him 
 ' honest Joe Natterstrom.' " " The same, the same," said 
 Captain Hathaway ; " who could have imagined that Joe 
 Natterstrom was known to a merchant of Smyrna I He is 
 the owner of this unhappy cargo, which is his whole prop- 
 erty." " And whose is the other ship and cargo ? " said 
 Beg. " That," said Captain Hathaway, " is more than any 
 living mnn knows. Natterstrom himself is ignorant of the 
 owner. He says he is the agent of one Ebenezer Beck, 
 and as no one doubts what Natterstrom says, the property 
 is all taxed to Ebenezer Beck. This Beck owns a large 
 real and personal estate, particularly a valuable wharf, in 
 New York ; and as nobody knows M'ho Beck is, and as 
 the estate has thus strangely slipped away from the lawful 
 owner, the public have called it Beckman's Slip. Heaven 
 grant that this same Beck do not ultimately prove the 
 ruin of poor Natterstrom." " It may be so," said Beg ; 
 " a man may be wise for another, and a fool for himself. 
 Let us now go on board Beck's ship, and examine his 
 cargo." " That is needless," said Captain Hathaway ; 
 " here is an invoice of Bock's cargo." Beg examined it, 
 and exclaimed, " Admirable ! It is worth half Smyrna. 
 This Beck is a lucky fellow ; he was born under tlie sun ; 
 his lamp will never go out. He must be a favorite of the 
 Prophet, and was nursed under a tree that sheds its fruit, 
 when ripe, into his lap." Beg then went on board of the 
 other ship, and to his surprise and great joy, beheld his 
 old friend Captain Dixon. After an oriental salutation. 
 Beg mentioned his interview with Captain Hathaway, and 
 lamented the unhappy voyage of Natterstrom. " And 
 who," said Beg, " may be the fortunate owner of your 
 cargo?" "That," said Captain Dixon, "is a mystery, 
 deep as the hidden springs of your deserts. If honest Joe 
 Natterstrom speaks truth, the fountain is still sealed. He 
 
THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 53 
 
 is an agent of an unknown being. Natterstrom, though 
 he is obliged to live and appear like a pacha, asserts 
 that he is a poor man, only the agent of Beck, and de- 
 pendent on his commissions. He affirms that all the 
 property in his hands is one Eben Beck's ; and when ques- 
 tioned who Beck may be, he says he does n't know, he never 
 saw him but once, then in the twilight, and that, several 
 years since." " But," said Beg, " is there any doubt that 
 Natterstrom would surrender this property to the man 
 Beck, if he should go and demand it ? " " That, indeed, 
 remains to be proved," said Captain Dixon, " and will for- 
 ever remain a doubt ; for there is no probability that Beck 
 will ever appear. Many believe that Natterstrom, from 
 some strange whim or dubious motive, has fabricated the 
 whole story of this Eben Beck." " It may, nevertheless, all 
 be true," said Beg ; " and Natterstrom may be the honest 
 agent of Eben Beck. He is no friend to virtue who doubts 
 its existence. The case may be as Natterstrom affirms; 
 therefore it 's wrong to prejudge. To attribute a bad motive 
 to a good action is to sow tares among wheat. Is it so 
 very extraordinary that a man should be honest ? Our 
 Prophet could summon thousands of the faithful, whose 
 least merit would be their integrity. To return a pledge, 
 to keep sacred a deposit, to do equity where the law would 
 not compel you, in the estimation of the Prophet are all 
 natural ; little better than instinct. I fear you wrong 
 Natterstrom in doubting his integrity. Mere honesty is 
 only a silent virtue. Your Prophet and ours have, each 
 of them, many humble followers, who are like the potato 
 of your country, which never raises its head above the 
 surface. Yet the potato is worth the whole tribe of flowers 
 that sport in the breeze. The English, who trade to the 
 Red Sea, trust whole cargoes to our people, who carry 
 them to the heart of Asia ; and all the security they 
 
54 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 
 
 demand is a token, a crook of a Mussulman's finger. If 
 Natterstrom has proclaimed himself the steward of an- 
 other man, has he not pledged himself to a surrender when 
 that man appears and reclaims his own ? " 
 
 " I wish Eben Beck was in the Red Sea," said Captain 
 Dixon ; " for it is evident, whether a real being or a phan- 
 tom, he is the evil genius of honest Joe Natterstrom." 
 
 " But now to business," said Beg. " Give me the re- 
 fusal of your cargo, and I will freight both vessels back 
 with such products as you may order." 
 
 This accomjdishcd, both ships returned to New York, 
 heavily laden with the richest products of the East. 
 
 When it appeared to Natterstrom that Beck's ship had 
 made a prosperous voyage, and that his own enterprise 
 had failed, Natterstrom was disheartened ; all his thoughts 
 turned, inwardly, to one dark idea. Strange things passed 
 in his mind. He remembered the pale look of the person, 
 the feeble arm and trembling hand, that reached to him 
 the bag of gold. The apparent old age and the decrepitude 
 of the man now fixed his attention more strangely than 
 in the moment of reality. The man of 1794 seemed to 
 reappear to Natterstrom in full life ; and an imjjression 
 that he might be the passive agent of an unholy princi- 
 pal overpowered him. He began to hate his own name, 
 without being reconciled to that of Beck. However, the 
 course of events and the facility of business all tended to 
 sink the name of Natterstrom into that of Beck ; so that 
 Natterstrom was frequently addressed as Ebenezer Beck 
 by foreign merchants, who really supposed they were 
 merchandising with Beck himself. Indeed, he began to 
 be called in New York, Ebenezer Beck ; so that at length 
 he willingly assumed the name. He therefore relinquished 
 all business in the name of Natterstrom, took down his 
 sign on his warehouse, and substituted in ])lace thereof 
 
THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTEOM. 55 
 
 that of Ebenezer Beck. Thus, honest Joe Natterstrom 
 sank into Ebenezer Beck ; and many of the present gen- 
 eration, who suppose they have seen Ebenezer Beck a 
 thousand times, never heard of the name of Joseph Nat- 
 terstrom, So hasty is time to bury the past ; so closely 
 does oblivion press on the footsteps of time. 
 
 Under the name of Ebenezer Beck, Natterstrom long 
 flourished, one of the most eminent merchants of New 
 York. Although he employed thousands of men, and 
 came in contact with the whole mass of civil society, 
 no man was ever heard to complain of him ; he was 
 the counterpart of the late Mr. Gray of Boston. 
 
 After many successful voyages to Smyrna, Beck ex- 
 claimed one day in the hearing of Captain Dixon, " Lord, 
 remember poor Joseph Natterstrom ; but as for Ebenezer 
 Beck, stay thy hand, for he has enough ! " This being 
 related to Beg the last time Captain Dixon was at Smyrna, 
 " Enough ! " said Beg, " he is the first man that ever 
 cried enough ! " 
 
 " But," said Captain Dixon, " if the wealth is not his 
 own, but one Ebenezer Beck's, he exclaimed ' Enough ' for 
 another man, not for himself." 
 
 " True," said Beg, " it is so ; yet it seems to confirm his 
 integrity, if he did not apply the expression to himself." 
 
 Beg now thought it time to see Natterstrom, and he 
 prepared to visit the United States. Accordingly, he em- 
 barked a second time with Captain Dixon for New York. 
 On his arrival, he pondered a long time how he should 
 make himself known to Natterstrom. At length, he re- 
 solved to appear before him in the same disgiJise in which 
 he appeared at his counting-room in 1794, thirty years 
 before. He now prepared himself for a meeting ; and 
 having ascertained that Natterstrom and his family were 
 going to a country-seat at Flushing, he placed himself 
 
56 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 
 
 in the way, and sat down near the middle of the road, 
 near the Dutch church. With one hand he supported 
 himself with a staff ; and the other was half extended, 
 as if in dubious expectation of charity. When the horses 
 of Natterstrom's carriage approached Beg, they suddenly 
 stopped and trembled, as if spell-bound. The coachman 
 turned to Natterstrom and said, " Here, sir, is a miser- 
 able object, so unhuman that the horses tremble at sight 
 of him." 
 
 " Eternal God ! " said Natterstrom, " that is Eben Beck ! 
 The day of doubt is passed, and if that is a human 
 being, I am hai)py ; otherwise, I have been thirty years 
 under enchantment." In an instant, Natterstrom leaped 
 from the carriage and approached Beg. " Thou art Eben 
 Beck," said Natterstrom. " Dost thou appear to me a 
 miserable beggar, or a mysterious being, unallied to this 
 world, and all its concerns ? Speak, for I am Joseph Nat- 
 terstrom, and have 'occupied' till Eben Beck has come." 
 
 " How hast thou ' occupied ' ? " said Beg, austerely. 
 
 " I have ' occupied,' " said Natterstrom, " until thy five 
 hundred guineas have become more than five hundred 
 thousand. Arise, and take a seat in this, thy carriage, 
 for it is thine, — see thy name on the panel, — and let me 
 accompany thee to thy beautiful mansion at Becksville." 
 
 Beg ascended the carriage, seated himself, sat calmly, 
 and said nothing. Natterstrom, though full, even to 
 anguish, was silence-struck at this strange occurrence ; 
 and thus all was quiet until they arrived at Beck's 
 country-scat. Natterstrom now proposed a change of 
 raiment, which Beg declined, observing he was too old 
 to change his habits ; he had come a long distance to 
 settle his affairs, and was desirous of returning home 
 to his own country. " When canst thou settle with me ? " 
 asked Beg. 
 
THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 57 
 
 " To-day," replied Natterstrom. 
 
 " But how canst thou settle the concerns of thirty 
 years in one day ? " 
 
 " I have only," said Natterstrom, " to hand thee a 
 bundle of papers, and the business is done." 
 
 " Explain thyself, Mr. Natterstrom, for I am an ignorant 
 man." 
 
 " All thy property is in thy own name ; thy real estate 
 is registered, thy ships are registered, thy notes of hand, 
 thy bonds and mortgages, are all payable to thyself ; thy 
 bank stock is all certified to Eben Beck ; and all thy 
 other personal property is in thy day-book and ledger. 
 Otherwise, how could Eben Beck receive his own, if Joseph 
 Natterstrom had died before Eben Beck came back ? " 
 
 " But how canst thou distinguish between thy own 
 and my own ? Joseph Natterstrom has not become poor 
 while Eben Beck has become rich ? " 
 
 " Joseph Natterstrom has become poor, and has lived 
 many years under the shadow of Eben Beck, and has 
 rejoiced in the sunshine of his prosperity ; for to rejoice 
 in the prosperity of another is to partake of it. But 
 now, all is Eben Beck's ; if Joseph Natterstrom retains 
 anything, he wrongs Eben Beck." 
 
 " And art thou ready to resign all ? " 
 
 " All." 
 
 " And what wilt thou have left ? " 
 
 " Myself." 
 
 " True," said Beg, " Joseph Natterstrom will remain, 
 and a man's best wealth ought to be himself." 
 
 The next day, Natterstrom resigned all, and Beg took 
 all. In one day, everything was settled. From great 
 splendor and apparent opulence, Joseph Natterstrom was 
 reduced to nothing. From that day Beg never saw Nat- 
 terstrom, though he remained in New York about six 
 
58 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTEESTEOM. 
 
 months. He continued his disguise, lived meanly, and 
 encouraged the opinion that he was a mysterious miser. 
 The experiment on Natterstrom having succeeded to Bcg's 
 satisfaction, he was now desirous of returning home to 
 Smyrna ; but first he executed his "Will, which for brevity 
 was remarkable. Thus : " There is but one God, and 
 Mahomet is his Prophet. I, Ebn Beg, of Smyrna, known 
 in the city of New York as Eben Beck, being of sound 
 and disposing mind and memory, do make this my last 
 will and testament. First, I devise to Joseph Natterstrom, 
 my late agent, and to his heirs and assigns, all my real 
 estate in the United States. Secondly, I give and be- 
 queath to said Natterstrom, all my personal property, 
 both in Europe and in the United States." This will, 
 correctly executed, Beg deposited with Captain Dixon, 
 who now for the first time was made acquainted with 
 the long-sleeping secret. By the aid of Captain Dixon, 
 Beg now appeared to sicken, languish, and die. His 
 funeral was performed, and his decease Avas publicly no- 
 ticed, very little to his credit. The good-natured Beg 
 smiled at this, and soon after sailed for Smyrna. 
 
 Captain Dixon now presented the will to Natterstrom ; 
 he read it, and for a moment his well-balanced mind 
 began to totter. He was now deeply impressed, that for 
 thirty years he had been under a supernatural influence, 
 but as it appeared to him to be that kind of influence 
 which one good spirit might have over another, he re- 
 tained 'the name of Eben Beck to the day of his death, 
 as well from pleasant associations as from public sanction ; 
 but his real name was Joseph Natterstrom, as is well 
 known to many aged people now living in New York. 
 
MARTHA GAEDNER; 
 
 OR, MORAL REACTION. 
 
MARTHA GARDNER; 
 OR, MOEAL EEACTION. 
 
 SIR FRANCIS WILLOUGHBY attempted the first set- 
 tlement in Charlestown on the land adjoining the old 
 ferry. Afterward Martha Gardner became heir to a part 
 of the same estate. What inhabitant of that region, who 
 has passed the meridian of life, cannot remember Martha 
 Gardner ? What man or woman of sixty has not bought 
 sweetmeats, nuts, and apples at the shop of Martha Gard- 
 ner at her little mansion measuring ten feet by twelve, 
 which during her life was a frontier cottage between 
 Boston and Charlestown, on the Charlestown shore near 
 the old ferry-way ? Those who remember Martha, and 
 recollect how silent, modest, industrious, and unassuming 
 she was, will think it impossible that anything interesting 
 can grow out of her history ; yet one incident in her long 
 life merits solemn reflection. It may appear to many an 
 idle legend, yet it is not so ; for the footsteps of time 
 have already left an indelible track, and Martha Gardner, 
 although long since in her grave, still speaks trumpet- 
 tongued from her venerable ashes. 
 
 Previous to the American Revolution Martha Gardner 
 lived in Charlestown. Her family name was Bunker, 
 whence came the name Bunker Hill. On the seventeenth 
 day of June she saw her little mansion given to the flames, 
 and herself houseless, destitute, and an exile from her 
 
62 MARTHA GAKDNER; 
 
 Eden. After the war she returned and erected her small 
 cottage on the border of the beautiful river ; and there she 
 lived, and there in 1809 she died. 
 
 In 1785 Charles River Bridge, the greatest enterprise of 
 that day, was erected near the door of Martha Gardner, on 
 the Charlestown shore. The wealthy proprietors soon be- 
 gan to fancy that a valuable part of the estate of Martha 
 Gardner was their corporate property ; and Martha was 
 compelled either to resign her title, or engage in a lawsuit 
 with the richest corporation in New England. Her dis- 
 tress may be imagined, — a poor widow, recently flying 
 from the flames of her dwelling, hardly reinstated in the 
 common comforts of life, already bending with age, and 
 now forced to contend with powerful claimants for a part 
 of the small estate of which, unluckily, all the deeds and 
 documents were (as she supposed) burned during the gen- 
 eral conflagration of Charlestown. 
 
 A lawsuit has different aspects to different persons. To 
 some a lawsuit is a holiday ; to others it gives the heart- 
 ache. To some the agitation of a lawsuit is but the lullaby 
 of a sea breeze ; so the French officer thought, who, dur- 
 ing a tedious peace, contrived to be involved in a hundred 
 lawsuits. When he was summoned before Louis XV. as 
 a public nuisance, the king ordered him to drop them all ; 
 but he, falling on his knees, entreated that he might retain 
 half a dozen of them for his diversion, otherwise he should 
 die with languor during the long peace. Not so Lord 
 Chancellor Eldon. When his steward complained to him 
 of a trespasser, he asked if the man had stolen an acre 
 of land. " Why, no, sir." « Then wait till he does." Nor 
 did Erskine see any amusement in a lawsuit. Ellenbor- 
 ough once suggested to him that his client could have a 
 better remedy in the Court of Chancery. At the name of 
 the Court of Chancery, Erskine, wiping away a tear, and 
 
OK, MORAL REACTION. 63 
 
 looking the Chief-Justice in the face, said, in a supplicat- 
 ing tone : " Has your Lordship the heart to send a fellow- 
 being to the Court of Chancery ? " 
 
 But let us pause a moment to contemplate Martha Gard- 
 ner. How much do these two words " Martha Gardner " 
 comprise ! More than the whole Trojan war ! Homer 
 could have turned Martha Gardner into an epic poem, for 
 she and moral reaction are one. Moral reaction, — what a 
 subject for contemplation ! The anger of Achilles, the 
 wanderings of that cunning itinerant Ulysses, the flight 
 from Troy, our lagging sympathy with J]]neas, and the 
 fertile squabble of the Crusaders and the Turks for a 
 few square feet of earth, are mere incidents compared 
 with the eternal decrees of moral reaction. Coleridge and 
 Kant, transcendental philosophers ! — ye could discourse 
 sublimely on moral reaction forever and ever ; for every 
 action, past, present, or future, would afford food to your 
 telescopic minds. Every intelligent being and nation, as 
 well as individual, is at this moment suffering under moral 
 reaction. The earthquake is but a momentary shock, the 
 thunder dies in its birth, the volcano is but a palpitation ; 
 but moral reaction though silent, unseen, and unheard, is 
 the most busy agent in the universe. While it requires 
 ages for the ocean to effect a little inroad on the sea-beach, 
 moral reaction at one time overwhelms individuals and 
 nations at a blow, at another it leads them through a laby- 
 rinth to slow but sure destruction, — a giant, but without 
 the arms of a giant ; Time with his scythe, but you see not 
 the scythe. The prophetic imprecation of Martha Gardner 
 Vhich we are about to relate, was but a woman's voice 
 sighing in the tempest and dying away among the billows ; 
 but it was a voice charged with an awful decree. 
 
 The story of Martha Gardner, although having its scene 
 under our own eyes, and the principal fact a matter of pub- 
 
64 MARTHA GARDNER; 
 
 lie record, is so mucli like a legendary tale that it is impossi- 
 ble to treat the subject without a tinge of the marvellous. 
 
 Soon after the great Corporation of Charles River Bridge 
 began the conflict with Marti la Gardner for a part of 
 her little patrimony, — the dock adjoining the bridge, — 
 Martha one morning sat in her chair, her hands folded, 
 looking more like a figure of stone than a living being, 
 when in came David "Wood (the late Colonel Wood), one 
 of those rare men, whom as soon as the eyes saw, the lips 
 whispered, '• There goes a man." His noble heart you 
 might read in his face and see in his hand ; in his deal- 
 ings he was so just that his word was as good as a promis- 
 sory note, and passed like a bill of exchange from man 
 to man. His looks created immediate confidence ; a lost 
 dog might always be found at David Wood's door-step. 
 Indeed, this man seemed to live exempt from tlie general 
 penalty, and never appeared to realize that all others were 
 not like himself. 
 
 " What 's the matter, Martha ; what 's the matter ? You 
 look worse than you did when you fled from the ' seven- 
 teentli of June.' " Martha at first made no reply, for she 
 did not see him. " Are you in a trance, Martlia ? Wake 
 up, and tell me what the trouble is." 
 
 Martha seemed to awake from a deep revery, and re- 
 plied, " Ah, ^Ir. Wood, the burning of Charlestown, with 
 my little all, was but a momentary conflict, — it was but a 
 dream of the night. What comes without anticipation, and 
 ends in a moment, passes over us like a dream. That 
 morning found me happy, and the next morning found me 
 so. The seventeenth had passed over me forever, and the 
 morning of the eighteenth gave me new joy. Why could 
 they not wait a little longer, and I should have been at 
 rest ? But now I see no end to my sorrows. When I lay 
 my head on my pillow, the Corporation appears to me in 
 
OR, MORAL REACTION. 65 
 
 all its terrors ; when I sleep — no, I do not sleep — when 
 I dream, I dream of the Corporation ; and when I wake, 
 there stands the great Corporation of Charles River Bridge 
 against Martha Gardner, — they, seemingly almighty, and 
 I, nothing. Why did you waken me ? " 
 
 " Cheer up, Martha," said the benevolent Mr. Wood, 
 " your happy star shall yet prevail. Why, have you for- 
 gotten your old wooden post with Ebenezer Mansir's name 
 carved on it, — the old wooden post which the selectmen of 
 Charlestown, in their wrath, ordered to be cut away, and 
 which, after traversing the whole world of waters, floated 
 back after two years to your own door, and was replaced 
 in its own post-hole ? Arise, look out of your window and 
 see the old wooden pier, and then doubt, if you can, of 
 eternal justice. Ebenezer — look at it; it means, ' Praise 
 the Lord ! ' " 
 
 " Ah," said Martha, " the day of miracles is not yet 
 passed. That old wooden pier has given birth to strange 
 reflections, its return seemed to cojinect heaven and earth ; 
 it seemed like the return of a wandering spirit, cast out of 
 its native element, to its first happy state." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Wood ; " think of that post with the 
 name carved on it to identify it, floating on the mighty 
 waters, — now in the Gulf Stream, now driven up the 
 Baltic, then by a north wind sent to the Equator and 
 Pacific, and thence back to the Atlantic, — and after such 
 a voyage of adventure, arriving at Charlestown in its 
 own dock again I " 
 
 " Yes," said Martha, " I have heard it observed that 
 many ages past a man by the name of Plato, being in 
 the dark, guessed a great deal about the immortality of 
 the soul. I have often imagined that the return of the 
 wooden post was like a lost angel to his native home ; and 
 if that old post, subject two years to the winds of heaven 
 
 5 
 
6{^ MARTHA GARDNER; 
 
 and waves of the sea, tossed upon all the coasts, inlets, 
 bays, creeks, and nooks of the four quarters of the world, 
 came home at last, a wandering spirit might one day reach 
 its native home ! " 
 
 The wooden pier just mentioned was well calculated to 
 bewilder the least superstitious mind. The simple facts 
 were these : Soon after the erection of Charles River 
 Bridge, the selectmen of Charlestown believed a portion of 
 Martha Gardner's estate was the town dock, and they 
 ordered a favorite wooden post standing at the dock to be 
 cut away. The post stood under her chamber window, and 
 from her youth upward she was attached to that post as 
 much as Pope was attached to the classic post before his 
 door. Ebenezer Mansir tied his fishing-boat to that post, 
 and Martha when a child played in the boat ; and when it 
 floated on an ebb-tide down the dock the length of its 
 tether, she pulled herself up the dock by the help of the 
 rope. That was a pure pleasure never to be forgotten. 
 
 Martha remonstrated against the wrong done her, with 
 all a woman's eloquence, but in vain ; and as the post was 
 floating out into Charles River, a by-stander said, " Farewell 
 to your old post, Mrs. Gardner, you will never see it again." 
 She instantly replied, " Who knows but that post may one 
 day come back again, to convince the selectmen of my 
 right and their wrong?" Nothing more was thought of 
 this until two years after, when the old post, covered with 
 caraghccn-moss and barnacles, came floating up the dock at 
 midday, shining like an emerald ; and as the tide receded, 
 deposited itself beside its old situation. This incident is 
 now in the family records. 
 
 " But,"' said Mr. Wood, " when will the trial begin ? " 
 
 " Next week," said Martha ; " and my heart fails within 
 me, for I have nothing to show ; all my deeds were de- 
 stroyed on the seventeenth of June." 
 
OR, MORAL REACTION. 67 
 
 " Ah, Martha, you seem now like a lamb shorn in winter ; 
 but I have a presentiment that there is an angel behind the 
 curtain. When human help fails us, an armed giant some- 
 times appears in our defence. A benighted traveller has 
 often been shown his true path by a flash of lightning. 
 You may yet awake out of a dream." 
 
 Early the next morning Mr. Wood received a message. 
 His mansion stood half a mile from Martha Gardner's 
 cottage, where the brick church now stands at the corner 
 of Wood and Green Streets. On entering Martha's cot- 
 tage, he found her greatly agitated. Said Martha, " Your 
 angel behind the curtain made his appearance last night. 
 He knocked at my door once; I was afraid. He knocked" 
 at my door again ; I was afraid and said nothing. He 
 knocked at my door the third time, and said, ' Awake, 
 Martha, awake, and fear no harm ! ' I took courage and 
 replied, ' I am awake, but am overcome with fear ; for I 
 am alone, and there is none to help me.' ' Fear nothing, 
 Martha, I am here to help you. Listen. In the house of 
 your son-in-law, in an old trunk at the bottom of the old 
 trunk in the garret, behind the chimney, there all your 
 deeds and records are preserved.' " 
 
 Search was immediately made, and in an old trunk at 
 the bottom of the old trunk in the garret, behind the 
 chimney. Sir Francis Willoughby's original deed to Martha 
 Gardner's ancestor was quietly reposing in perfect pres- 
 ervation. This was handed to the late Governor Sullivan, 
 then attorney-general, the faithful counsellor of the lone 
 widow. She prevailed in the Supreme Court, and was 
 quieted in her rights. 
 
 This incident of " the angel behind the curtain," deserves 
 a passing remark. There was nothing strange in Martha 
 Gardner's dreaming every night of her lawsuit, of the 
 great Corporation, and of her lost deeds ; neither is it 
 
68 MAETHA GARDNER; 
 
 strange that she should dream of finding them. And if we 
 connect the sanguine expressions of her friend Wood with 
 her own earnest wishes, we have the key to her dream. 
 There is no probability that she heard a knocking at 
 her chamber door, either once, twice, or thrice ; but she 
 dreamed she did so, and in the morning she doubtless 
 thought it was more than a dream. She had probably 
 seen that old trunk many times, little imagining the jewel 
 it contained. There is really nothing marvellous in this 
 dream, and I do not wish it to be so considered ; for though 
 it was far more important to her than the return of the 
 old wooden post, yet tliis dream is not wortliy of a passing 
 notice compared with the adventures of that almost in- 
 tellectual wooden post. 
 
 But Martha Gardner was not destined to a long repose. 
 One pleasant morning soon after, looking out of her win- 
 dow, she observed the sea-gulls sporting themselves above 
 the bridge. " This is a deceitful calm," said Martha. 
 " These sea-gulls so near my door denote an approaching 
 storm ; " and immediately after the great Corporation 
 appeared to Martha in tlie shape of a summons, com- 
 manding her to appear at court and submit to a new trial 
 in the form of a review. Said Martha, " How cruel ! This 
 may be sport to tlicm, but it is death to me. I have but 
 a short lease of all worldly things ; my setting sun shows 
 only a crescent, it will be down in a moment. Let the 
 great Corporation take my estate. I will contend no 
 longer. If they have resolved to contend again, let them 
 take my estate this moment rather tlian that I should close 
 my few remaining days in anxiety and distress. I have 
 already been overwhelmed in the waters of bitterness. 
 Truly my name is Martha." " Not so," said her friends. 
 " Remember the wooden post with Ebenezer Mansir's name 
 carved on it. Remember the ' ansrel behind the curtain,' 
 
OR, MORAL REACTION. 69 
 
 and remember the old trunk. Do not let the great Cor- 
 poration with their long arms reach beyond your simple 
 rights. The whole Corporation in the eye of the court 
 weighs no more than Martha Gardner." 
 
 In consequence of this assurance, Martha maintained 
 the conflict a second time with the Corporation, and pre- 
 vailed. Slie now congratulated herself that she should die 
 in peace ; and she resigned herself to that sweet repose, 
 such as virtuous old age, when light-hearted, enjoys under 
 the shadow of a weight of years. In old age most persons 
 cling the closer to earth the nearer they approach the 
 close of life. Not so Martha ; her setting sun seemed 
 to renew her youth. She was as merry as a cricket in 
 autumn, which sings loudest on the last day of sunshine. 
 She was at peace with herself, and therefore with all the 
 world. The swallows observed this, and built their nests 
 over her window, and twittered on her window-sill. Her 
 day never seemed too long. She renewed her girlhood 
 with the foliage of spring, while the wreath of snow over 
 the river on Copp's Hill, reminded her of a gay plume 
 rather than of her winding-sheet. All her wrinkles fled 
 before the sparkling of her eyes. Life returned to her, 
 and in her old age she was still young. Doubtless a 
 joyous old age with a heart alive to youthful sensations 
 is nearly allied to spiritual existence ; in truth, her mor- 
 tality seemed swallowed up in life. " Happy Mrs. Gard- 
 ner," said the neighbors ; " there is nothing mortal about 
 her, she will never die. She will sit upright in her easy- 
 chair and seem to die ; but no, Martha has only been 
 translated." Hesiod must have had such a one as Martha 
 Gardner in view when speaking of the first happy ages : — 
 
 " They die, or rather seem to die; they seem 
 From hence transported in a pleasing dream." 
 
 Indeed Martha Gardner appeared to have gone to heaven 
 
70 MARTHA GARDNER; 
 
 before her time, and to have enjoyed in this "world an 
 athanasia. But the evening breeze which was so sweetly 
 wafting her down the quiet stream of time to the calm 
 latitudes, was only the precursor of a tempest which over- 
 whelmed her gentle soul. Just before she took leave of 
 this world, the moment she was folding all up for her last 
 journey, just when with her own hands, she had worked 
 her last white dress and instructed her granddaughter how 
 to adjust it, the great Corporation sent a third summons 
 to her, more appalling than would have been her last 
 summons. This blow was too much for Martha, and she 
 became a weeping-willow. Again the great Corporation op- 
 pressed her sleep ; her day-fears pursued her to her couch, 
 where in her phantom sleep she wrestled with the night- 
 mare in the shape of the great Corporation. Trouble in 
 youth is like the morning dew, — the first gleam of the sun 
 dissipates it ; but trouble in old age weighs heavier and 
 heavier, and the heart sinks, and drags hope downward. 
 
 But why did the Corporation of Charles River Bridge 
 thus }>ursue Martha Gardner ? There is but one answer, 
 — it was a Corporation. 
 
 The metaphysicians distribute man into three parts, — 
 the animal, the intellectual, and the moral. Which of 
 these three is most likely to prevail in a Corporation ? The 
 Corporation of Charles River Bridge was composed of 
 many men well remembered now for their private and 
 public worth. Less than five of them would have re- 
 deemed Nineveh. But unhappily the animal and the in- 
 tellectual part of Corporations generally govern the body, 
 and conscience is a non-corporate word. 
 
 While Martha was preparing for her last conflict with 
 the Corporation a great storm in November threatened 
 wide desolation to the neighboring shores of Boston and 
 Charlestown. A three days' northeast wind, assisted by 
 
OR, MORAL REACTION. 71 
 
 the full moon, seemed to challenge the Gulf Stream. It is 
 well known that a powerful northeast wind narrows the 
 Gulf Stream, renders it more rapid, and drives it nearer 
 the coast. The third day of this memorable storm af- 
 forded the subliracst scene ever beheld in New England. 
 It seemed for a fearful moment that the order of Nature 
 was broken up, and that He who gave the sea its bounds 
 had released the conditions ; that the whole Atlantic, in a 
 boisterous mood, had forced the Gulf Stream into Boston 
 harbor. There was not a wave to be seen ; it was one 
 white surge, — one white mountain of foam breaking over 
 the tops of the numerous islands in the harbor ; while 
 during the momentary lulling of the wind and subsiding 
 of the waters, the surges broke upon the eye like so many 
 gambolling sea-monsters, dancing to the ceaseless roar of 
 Chelsea and Lynn beaches. It seemed as though the 
 mainland must give way to the mighty sea beating upon 
 the rock-bound coast. It was a fearful day for Charles- 
 town. The waters had already buried the wharves in 
 their abyss. Charles River Bridge next disappeared and 
 was totally engulfed ; vessels might have sailed over it 
 keel-safe. The flood was marching up Main Street to the 
 Square. Mothers seized their infants, and were preparing 
 to fly to the uplands. Three days more and the heights 
 of Boston and Charlestown would have appeared like 
 islands in the Atlantic ocean ; but happily for Boston and 
 the vicinity, this storm occurred in November and not in 
 May, otherwise the numerous icebergs which annually ap- 
 pear off the coast might have blockaded the harbor be- 
 tween Cape Ann and Cape Cod, and destroyed Boston 
 and the neighboring seaports. 
 
 In the last efforts of the storm the little cottage of 
 Martha Gardner began to tremble. The surge bore down 
 on her tottering tenement, while the winds lashed every 
 
72 MAKTHA GARDNER; 
 
 returning billow into new fury. The neighbors collected 
 around her dwelling and besought her to fly from instant 
 ruin. She, nothing daunted, ascended to her chamber win- 
 dow, and opening it, addressed them : — 
 
 " I will not fly," said she. " Let Lynn beach roar, and 
 let the winds and the waves rage three days more. If my 
 house moves it shall be my ark ; it shall be my cradle. I 
 will move with it. I will neither fly from the storm nor 
 look back, but will look up ! I have nothing to fear from 
 the war of elements. My destruction comes not in the 
 whirlwind nor in the tempest, but from a broken heart. 
 Welcome, ye stormy winds and raging waves ! Ye are 
 but ministers of Supreme Power, flying messengers ; and 
 when your errand is done, ye are as quiet as a landscape. 
 When the storm is passed all will smile again. Yc are 
 now my diversion ; ye bring repose to my troubled spirit ; 
 ye lull me to rest. When ye are quiet, the great Corpora- 
 tion will trouble my sleep. All natural evils are but play- 
 things. This tcmi)est shakes my dwelling, but not my 
 soul. The thunder is harmless the moment it is heard. 
 The earthquake brings impartial ruin ; but I, a poor widow, 
 am singled out by the great Corporation, and pursued to 
 my dying bed-chamber. Yes, my soul enjoys this tempest ; 
 1 look down on it ; I am lifted above it. I had rather see 
 this tempest with open eyes than the great Corporation in 
 my sleep. 
 
 " This storm gives me new courage, a new spirit, and 
 raises me far above its idle rage. I am above the 
 storm ; I am on the top of Jacob's ladder, and see the 
 heavenly blue. This storm quiets my soul. It has caused, 
 for a moment, Charles River Bridge to disappear. I am 
 in a new element. I am at the gate of heaven, and hear 
 a voice you cannot hear ; I hear a voice above the storm 
 saving, ' Martha Gardner shall be avenged, but not in her 
 
OR, MORAL REACTION. 73 
 
 day.' The time is coming when there shall be no more 
 passing over that bridge than there is at this moment. It 
 shall be desolate and forsaken, — a fishing-place. The 
 curlew and gray gull and stormy petrel shall there rest in 
 quiet. The traveller shall pass over another highway, and 
 turning his head shall say, ' Behold the great highway of 
 the north and of the east, — behold how desolate!' And 
 it shall be desolate ; but neither storm nor tempest nor 
 fire nor earthquake shall destroy it. It shall be • like a 
 barren spot in a fertile valley. All around it shall flour- 
 ish. The voice of prosperity shall echo and re-echo across 
 the river from all the hills of Boston, even to the heights 
 of Charlestown, and thence among the islands ; but that 
 spot shall become a solitude, a barren streak in a green 
 circle. The grass shall spring from the crevices, but it 
 shall wither before the midday sun. No living thing shall 
 pass over it, A lost child shall not be sought in that 
 desolate path. The traveller shall shun it, and shall pass 
 another way to the great city, and they of the great city 
 shall shun it and pass another way ; and they of the great 
 Corporation shall avoid it, turn from it, and pass another 
 way. It shall disappear in all its glory as the great high- 
 way of the north, and still remain visible as an everlast- 
 ing monument. And the stranger shall come from the 
 uttermost parts of the earth to behold the beautiful city ; 
 and he shall ascend the mount of my fathers, and shall 
 view the beautiful city, begirt with mountains of emerald ; 
 and he shall behold the thousand villas which shall stud 
 the lawns like diamonds, and the distant hills pouring 
 down plenty, while the Atlantic, bearing on her bosom the 
 harvest of the world, shall bow at her footstool. And the 
 eyes of the stranger shall become weary in beholding new 
 beauties, and his senses sleep from the fatigue of behold- 
 ing the ever-varying prospect changing with every passing 
 
74 MAKTHA GARDNER. 
 
 cloud, and he shall descend from the mount of my fathers 
 and return to the beautiful city ; but when he shall cast 
 his eye on this spot the charm shall dissolve. He shall 
 stand amazed and demand, ' Why that solitude amid uni- 
 versal life ? ' " 
 
 Dimly seen through the spray, she now withdrew from 
 the storm, and gently closed the window. All was silent ; 
 for as she did not appear to address the spectators, no one 
 knew how to reply to her. At length "William Goodwin, 
 a man of ardent temperament and generous feelings, said, 
 " Truly, that was Martha Gardner's countenance, I cannot 
 be deceived ; for the flash of her eyes created, amid the 
 storm, a rainbow around her head. But it was not — no, it 
 was not Martha Gardner's voice. This means something ; 
 here is a mystery. Some of us may live to see it unrav- 
 elled ; but Martha Gardner never uttered all that." 
 
 The storm immediately died away. The next morning 
 was calm and fair. Martha Gardner soon after passed 
 through her last conflict with the Corporation, and died. 
 
 The world knows all the rest. The traveller who passes 
 over Warren Bridge, and turns his eye over his shoulder 
 and beholds the present desolation of Charles River Bridge, 
 and sees the immense crowd passing over the new highway, 
 if he hath any faith in moral reaction, will say, '•' In truth, 
 Martha Gardner built Warren Bridge ; " and in other times 
 it may be said, " As true as Martha Gardner built Warren 
 Bridge." ^ 
 
 1 The public are familiar with the suit lately decided in the United States 
 Supreme Court of Errors, between the proprietors of Charles River and 
 Warren Bridges. The decision was against the Charles River Bridge, and 
 " the great Corporation " have vainly petitioned the Massachusetts Legisla- 
 ture for a release from the conditions of their charter. Their bridge is seldom 
 or never used, and must soon become impassable. The distant reader may 
 ask, " "Why is this ? " The answer is, " Warren Bridge is free, so rendered by 
 an act of the Legislature ; and few persons, not even the proprietors them- 
 selves, choose to pay toll for the privilege of crossing Charles River Bridge." 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS: 
 A VERMONT LEGEND. 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS; 
 A VERMONT LEGEND. 
 
 ON the border of Lake Champlain you will find a beau- 
 tiful declivity in the present town of Ferrisburg, 
 which commands a southerly view of the lake. In a calm 
 summer morning you may look down on a sea of glass ; 
 and sometimes in winter when a severe frost catches the 
 lake asleep, you may behold a spacious mirror, polished 
 beyond the highest skill of art. 
 
 The following account of John Grindall, who many years 
 since lived on this declivity, is still current in the neighbor- 
 hood, although time has probably added not a little to the 
 real facts. Grindall was something more than a strict 
 economist, one whom the present extravagant age would 
 pronounce a miser. To give and to lose had with him the 
 same meaning ; so, to get and to keep. 
 
 A poor traveller from the Genesee country, on his return 
 from Canada, was overtaken in the month of November in 
 the year 1780 (a memorable cold winter in New England), 
 without a surtout. He tarried for a night at an inn in the 
 neighborhood of Ferrisburg. His landlord taking pity on 
 him, observed, " My neighbor Grindall has just bought him- 
 self, after many years, a new cloak. Call on him to-morrow 
 morning, and tell him I sent you, and hope he will give you 
 his old cloak ; and, moreover, say to him, he will never be 
 
78 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 less warm for parting with it, as a deed of charity some- 
 times warms the body more than a blanket." 
 
 Accordingly the traveller called on Grindall and told his 
 errand. The day was extremely cold, and of itself pleaded 
 most eloquently for the old cloak 
 
 " How easy," said Grindall, " is it for one man to be 
 liberal of the property of another ! My neighbor is one of 
 the most generous men in the world, for the simple reason 
 that he has nothing to give." 
 
 " You do him wrong, sir," said the traveller ; " he gave 
 me a lodging and a breakfast; and, moreover, said you were 
 the wealthiest man in these parts." 
 
 " Ay," said Grindall, " I have grown rich by keeping, 
 not by giving. If the weather grows much colder, I shall 
 want not only my new cloak and my old one, but another." 
 
 " So you will want two, or more, while I have to travel 
 more than one hundred miles without any ! Your neighbor 
 bade me tell you a deed of charity would warm one better 
 than a blanket." 
 
 " My old cloak will fit no one but myself." 
 
 " Ah ! he that is warm thinks all others are so." 
 
 " But you should be more provident, and not have to 
 make the cloak when it begins to rain. However, you have 
 one advantage : a threadbare coat is armor-proof against a 
 highwayman." 
 
 " And perhaps," said the traveller, " another advantage, 
 ' the greatest wealth is contentment with a little.' " 
 
 " Yes," said Grindall, " many talk like philosophers and 
 live like fools." 
 
 " But sir, if you make money your god, it will plague you 
 like the devil." 
 
 " But he is not wise that is not wise for himself ; and he 
 that would give to all, shows great good-will, but little 
 wisdom." 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 79 
 
 " Still, sir, you make a good investment when you relieve 
 the necessitous." 
 
 " All my income is applied to very different purposes." 
 
 " Farewell, then. You may want more than two cloaks 
 to keep you warm if I perish with the cold." 
 
 The traveller departed. A few days afterward a rumor 
 was prevalent that a traveller had perished on the west 
 side of the lake. Grindall heard the report, and reflecting 
 on the last words of the stranger, felt a sudden chillness 
 shoot through his frame. There was nothing supernatu- 
 ral in this ; the body is often the plaything of the mind. 
 The imagination can produce a fever ; and why may it 
 not turn the heart to an icicle, especially as it a,ppeared 
 that Grindall's heart was sufficiently cold before ? The 
 morning after this rumor he pronounced it the coldest day 
 he had ever experienced ; and he sat in his old cloak the 
 whole day, congratulating himself that he had not given 
 it to the traveller. The next day seemed to Grindall more 
 severe than the former ; and he put on both the old and 
 the new cloak. Nevertheless he was far from comfortable. 
 The third day he sent to his tailor for a new cloak ; but 
 as the tailor could not make a cloak in a day, he borrowed 
 one of his neighbor, the innkeeper. 
 
 The weather that year, 1780, as is well known, waxed 
 daily colder and colder, and Grindall was obliged to em- 
 ploy all the tailors far and wide, for nothing could keep 
 him warm, not even an additional cloak every day ; so that 
 Grindall soon excited the curiosity of all around him. His 
 appearance indeed must have been grotesque. His circum- 
 ference was soon so great that he could not pass out of his 
 door, yet nothing less than a new cloak daily could relieve 
 him. He was extremely loath to send for a physician ; for 
 having on one occasion been bled by a doctor, he was heard 
 to declare that he never would part with any more of his 
 
80 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 blood, meaning thereby his money. However, Grindall was 
 not without medical advice. Curiosity soon filled his 
 house. All the old ladies far and near, Indian doctors 
 and doctresses, offered him more remedies than can be 
 found in the Materia Medica. Even the regular and irreg- 
 ular faculty gave him a call gratis, hoping at least to learn 
 something either in confirmation of preconceived opinion, 
 or, what was more agreeable, from practical experiment on 
 a new disease. While it cost nothing, Grindall was willing 
 to listen and submit ; hence his house became a hospital, 
 and himself the recipient of a thousand prescriptions. But 
 all availed nothing ; he grew colder every day. Every new 
 cloak was l)ut a wreath of snow. The doctors at length 
 began to quarrel among themselves. In their various ex- 
 periments they so often crossed one another's path, and 
 administered such opposite remedies, that Grindall began 
 to jeer them. The only perspiration he enjoyed for three 
 months was caused by a fit of laughter at the doctors' 
 expense. lie plainly told them, if one remedy would cure, 
 another would as certainly kill. To this each physician 
 readily assented, but at the same time asserted that his 
 own remedy was the only cure. These opposite prescrip- 
 tions soon embroiled all his doctors, both male and female ; 
 at the same time there was a perplexing debate respecting 
 the nature of the disease. While one pronounced the dis- 
 order a weakness of the blood, another asserted it was an 
 ossification of the heart, — a disorder incident to many old 
 persons, and always accompanying an undue love of money. 
 Another said the disorder arose from a defect of the blood 
 in the heart, and the true remedy was to send the blood 
 from the extremities to the heart. While the doctors were 
 disputing, Grindall was growing colder and colder, and his 
 circumference larger and larger, so that he nearly filled 
 the largest room in his housCo 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 81 
 
 Toward spring, when the sun began to assert himself, 
 and when the snow began to moisten, an incident befell 
 Grindall, which has become an interesting part of this 
 memorandum. Grindall said he had been confined to the 
 house more than three months, and as it was a beautiful 
 day, he would walk out and learn if there were any heat in 
 the sun. But there was one difificulty attending this enter- 
 prise : it was necessary in order to pass his doorway, to 
 throw off more than seventy cloaks ; for in order to feel 
 in any way comfortable, he was still obliged to add a new 
 cloak every day. While the ceremony of disrobing was 
 taking place, Grindall complained bitterly of the cold ; 
 and before his assistants could re-cloak him, he became 
 nearly senseless. At twelve o'clock he was re-clothed. 
 As he stood on his doorstep, which overlooked the lake, 
 for the first time in his life he was sensible of the beauties 
 of Nature, though in winter ; for having been housed more 
 than three months, the glory of the sun, the purity of the 
 air, and the sublimity of the lake, which reflected at mid- 
 day ten thousand diamonds, seemed for a moment to warm 
 his heart. He became exhilarated, and not having the usual 
 command of his legs, and being ill-balanced owing to the 
 hasty putting on of the seventy cloaks, he faltered, reeled, 
 and gently fell on the snow. In a moment, owing to the 
 sharp declivity and the moistened surface of the snow, he 
 became a huge snowball. The snow as usual had covered 
 the tops of the walls and fences, and there was no impedi- 
 ment in the descent to Lake Champlaln. Accordingly, 
 very soon Grindall became apparently a huge rotund snow- 
 ball, and acquired at every rebound additional velocity ; 
 and when this man-mountain arrived at the margin of the 
 frozen lake, he swiftly passed its whole diameter. 
 
 And now the whole country was rallied to disinter 
 Grindall from his mountain snowbank. Various were the 
 
 6 
 
82 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 speculations attending this snow-scene excavation. To 
 some who held Grindall in no respect, it was a half- 
 hoUday ; to others more serious, connected with what liad 
 already happened, it was more solemn. Some asserted he 
 never could be dug out alive ; others, more indifferent, 
 said he was as safe as a toad in his winter quarters. 
 A physician who had tried all imaginable remedies, as- 
 serted he would come out a Avell man ; for the rapid 
 circulation of the snowball would equally circulate the 
 man, induce a profound perspiration through the whole 
 system, and effect a cure. " All that may be true," said 
 another physician who had just arrived; "but the man 
 can never be dug out alive, for this internal heat, like a 
 volcanic fire, will melt the surrounding snow, cause an 
 internal deluge, and drown the man." " But," said a third, 
 " if the man should come out alive, he will be deranged ; 
 for as his descent may have been oblique, all his brains 
 probably have fallen on one side." " Never mind what the 
 doctors say," said one of the working-men, " old Grindall 
 may yet be got out alive, and prove himself a worthy man. 
 Though all the doctors could not cure him, this very acci- 
 dent may ; for accident and Nature are two great physi- 
 cians, and have often outwitted the faculty." 
 
 In the mean time the snow flew merrily. Curiosity light- 
 ened their labors and speeded their snow-shovels ; but all 
 their efforts could not release Grindall in one day. The 
 succeeding night was honorable to the neighborhood, for 
 there was a general assembly of the townsfolk, and no little 
 sympathy expressed for the fate of Grindall. The next 
 day additional succor came, and before midday they came 
 in contact with the outside cloak. There was a loud and 
 tumultuous call on Grindall. No answer ; but soon they 
 perceived a gentle moving of the cloak, as though the in- 
 habitant was stirrino;. A moment more and Grindall saw 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 83 
 
 daylight. The first words he uttered were, " Cover me up 
 again, oh, cover me up ! I perish with the cold ! " Dis- 
 regarding his cries they brought him forth to open day. 
 But Grindall's cry was, " Another cloak, or I perish ; " 
 and the garment was immediately loaned him by a spec- 
 tator. By the help of a sled and four horses he was soon 
 at home. 
 
 "When Grindall was first discovered, he looked as fresh 
 as a new-blown damask rose ; and though you could see 
 nothing but his face, joy seemed to illumine his counte- 
 nance, and so far contracted his muscles as to disclose a 
 fine set of teeth, which shone from out his many cloaks 
 like so many orient pearls at the bottom of a dungeon. 
 
 The spring now began gradually to exchange her heavy 
 white robe for a silken green ; and those who knew more 
 than their neighbors, said that the only doctor who could 
 cure Grindall was the great restorer of the vegetable 
 world. Indeed, Grindall himself now looked to the sun 
 as his only remedy. But to the surprise of all and the 
 despair of poor Grindall, the sun made no more impres- 
 sion on him than did the great yellow dog who had 
 been hanged on the tree before his door for sheep-stealing. 
 At midday in the month of July you might have seen 
 Grindall sitting in his now more than two hundred cloaks 
 on his door-stone, courting the notice of the sun, which 
 regarded him with the same sensibility that it does a 
 snow-drift in winter on Mount Bellingham. This cir- 
 cumstance of course gave currency to many strange 
 stories ; one, for instance, that the coldness of Grin- 
 dall's head was such, that a gallon of warm water 
 poured on his head, in July, ran down to his shoulders 
 in icicles. This, and a thousand such idle rumors, gave 
 a miraculous coloring to the real facts ; especially as 
 hundreds of people from the frontiers, even from Canada, 
 
84 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 both whites and Indians, attracted by curiosity, came to 
 see a man cUid in ten score of cloaks in July. 
 
 After the summer solstice, Grindall himself began to 
 despair ; for the superstition, or more probably the solemn 
 reflection of the people, began to treat his case as some- 
 thing out of the common course of nature, and they 
 believed Grindall to be what the Scotch call " a doomed 
 man." This was equal to an interdict of fire and water. 
 Grindall's house became a solitude. All, even women, 
 refrained from visiting him. 
 
 Thus the solitary Grindall wrapped himself up in his 
 many cloaks, and sat on his door-stone, courting in vain 
 the rays of the sun. One day when peering wistfully 
 through the long avenue of his cloaks at the fervid sun, 
 to him more like the moon in winter, he was heard to 
 exclaim, "■ wretched me I I am an outcast from hu- 
 man nature. There is no human being to sympathize with 
 me ; all forsake me. I am alone in the world. At 
 home, without a home ; in the world, but not of it. More 
 than an outcast, all men fly from me ; even the women, 
 the natural nurses of men, have lost their curiosity. The 
 dogs do not even bark, but stare at me and pass on. 
 The birds have retreated to other woods. How dreadful 
 is this solitude ! If I look up, the sun has no genial 
 smile for mc ; if I look down, I have no hope but in 
 the bowels of the earth. If I look within — I dare not 
 look within, for there a solitude reigns more dreadful 
 still. Fool that I was, — I once thought a bag of money 
 the easiest pillow I could repose on." 
 
 Thus the summer passed away, while Grindall had 
 no other occupation than to procure a new cloak every 
 day. But about the middle of November, the anniversary 
 of the traveller's visit to him, who should call at his 
 house but the same man who the year preceding had 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 85 
 
 begged his old cloak. Grindall immediately recognized 
 him by instinct, for that was nearly all that remained 
 to the unhappy man ; and there came over him a sud- 
 den feeling that this same man was connected with his 
 fate, and was the harbinger of a good result. Moreover 
 the man was supposed to have perished, and his appear- 
 ance to Grindall was like one risen from the grave. 
 The stranger was therefore doubly welcome. He heard, 
 with apparent wonder, an account of the events of the 
 past year ; and in conclusion Grindall stated that he had 
 exhausted the whole art of the faculty, who had pro- 
 nounced him incurable, and that he had at length begun 
 to despair. 
 
 "A strange case, indeed," said the stranger. "Tell 
 me all that the doctors have done for you." 
 
 " They have done nothing for me ; but I can tell you 
 what they have done to me. They have made a laboratory 
 of me, and subjected me to all sorts of experiments, — 
 cold remedies and warm, internal and external, remedies 
 the most opposite. I have been roasted by one, boiled 
 by another ; I have been stewed, blistered, and parboiled 
 by a third ; merged in hot water, wrung out, and laid by 
 to dry, and immediately after subjected to a cold bath. 
 I should have been baked could they have stowed me 
 with all my cloaks into the oven. The Spanish Inquisi- 
 tion is a flower-bed in comparison with the bed the 
 doctors have spread for me. They have made an apoth- 
 ecary's shop of my inwards, wdiile each one told me his 
 own remedy was the sovereigncst remedy on earth for 
 'a cold affection of the blood. 
 
 " When the doctors relinquished me, I fell into the 
 hands of a hundred old ladies. Good souls ! they would 
 have cured me if they could ; for they exhausted all that 
 is known of botany. I can tell you the taste of every 
 
86 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 vegetable that ever grew on the face of the earth, both 
 root and branch ; from the sweet fern to the bitter el-wort, 
 from henbane to nightshade. And here, oh, forgive me 
 if my cold blood warms in wrath ! one pertinacious 
 female forced down a whole dragon-root, and said, if 
 that did not cure mc, nothing would. It did, indeed, 
 nearly cure me of all my earthly pains ; for I thought 
 it time to send for the sexton, the only friend I have 
 in this world." 
 
 " I5ut," said the traveller, " why did you permit so 
 many vain experiments to be tried on you. It is the de- 
 light of the physician to experiment on new cases. If he 
 succeeds, he has achieved some great thing ; if he fails, 
 the case was remediless." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Grindall, " let the well man laugh at the 
 doctors ; but the sick man is all ears to those who promise 
 help. Cannot you do something for mc ? " 
 
 " I can tell you one thing ; you arc no warmer for 
 your many cloaks. It is not the clothes that keep the 
 l)ody warm ; therefore whoever can warm your heart can 
 certainly cure you." 
 
 " That I fear is impossible ; I never felt my heart 
 warm in all my life. Not one of the thousand remedies 
 that I suffered ever touched my heart. The dragon-root 
 which burned my bowels, made no impression on my 
 heart." 
 
 " Nevertheless I can cure you if you will submit to 
 the remedy. You may think it cruel and tedious, but I 
 believe I can warrant you a cure." 
 
 " Name it, try it, — I am all submission, — and you 
 shall have half of my estate." 
 
 " Oh, no ; I must not be selfish, and oppose a cold 
 heart to your warm one. I see a change in you already. 
 Do you not feel a little better ? " 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 87 
 
 " I do, I protest I do ; the last cloak I put on feels 
 rather heavy." 
 
 " The cure lies entirely with yourself ; all the doctors 
 in the universe, male and female, can do you no good. 
 A permanently warm heart depends on the man himself." 
 
 " Ah, you mock me ; how can a man warm his own 
 heart, when naturally cold ? " 
 
 " xVs easy as a man can awake from a sound sleep. 
 Pray tell me how many cloaks encircle you." 
 
 " This very day counts a year, that is three hundred 
 and sixty-five cloaks." 
 
 " It will require a whole year to perform a perfect 
 cure ; in the mean time you will be comfortable, more 
 so every day." 
 
 " But what horrible drug are you about to propose ? 
 I thought I had exhausted both Nature and art." 
 
 " Be easy, Mr. Grindall, you will swallow nothing. As 
 your disorder has appeared to many inexplicable, your 
 cure will appear equally so, if you can only warm your 
 own heart. I must now leave you ; I am on my annual 
 visit to Canada, but when I return I will call to see 
 you. To-morrow, about this time, you may chance to 
 find a remedy ; but whether or not you will improve it, 
 depends entirely on yourself. Farewell." 
 
 The stranger immediately returned to the innkeeper 
 and requested him to send to Grindall on the morrow 
 the most destitute man he could find. 
 
 " Why, you are the very man," said the innkeeper, 
 " who begged his old cloak last winter, and the report 
 was you had perished with the cold. You might as well 
 attempt to warm Grindall's heart as to obtain a cloak 
 from him. He buys a new one every day." 
 
 " No matter ; say nothing about a cloak, but do as I 
 tell you. Farewell." 
 
88 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 The stranger was not in the innkeeper's house one 
 minute ; and the innkeeper soon began to tliink a vision 
 had passed over him. The call, the conversation, and the 
 departure were all one. In a few minutes he began to 
 treat it as the magnanimous Jefferson once treated an 
 injury, " like one of those things that never happened." 
 But still, the more the innkeeper believed it a vision, the 
 deeper impression it wrought on him. At that time, in 
 those deep solitudes on the frontiers of a savage wilder- 
 ness, the natural easily passed into the supernatural ; 
 therefore the innkeeper soon resolved, whether he had suf- 
 fered under an illusion or had seen a reality, to seek 
 out and send a proper object to Grindall. This was no 
 easy task. In those days .it was as difficult to find a very 
 poor man as it is now difficult to find a very honest one. 
 However, before night he found his object ; and as the 
 next day proved extremely inclement, the innkeeper thought 
 it possible Grindall might give the poor man one of three 
 hundred and sixty-five cloaks. 
 
 The next morning, as if by accident, a half-naked man 
 stood at the door of GrindaU's house, dubious whether he 
 should enter or not. The appearance of the poor man 
 was more eloquent than any language, and the day itself 
 was a powerful appeal. When Grindall understood that 
 a man was standing on his doorstep, he reached liis spy- 
 glass, for he was now obliged to use a long spy-glass in 
 order to see through the long avenue of his many cloaks. 
 As soon as he beheld the man, " What, my friend," said 
 Grindall with unwonted courtesy, " has brought you here 
 this cold day ? " "I was sent here without any errand, 
 supposing y©u wanted to see me." " T did not send for 
 you." " It is only a mistake then ; farewell." " But stop, 
 friend; you are almost naked. Are you not perishing with 
 the cold ? I am under cover of three hundred and sixty- 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 89 
 
 five cloaks." " 1 have on my whole wardrobe," said the 
 stranger, " and, thank Providence, my heart keeps me 
 tolerably warm." " The heart, the heart, a warm heart," 
 muttered Grindall to himself. " ' To-morrow, about this 
 time, you may chance to find a remedy ; but whether or not 
 you will improve it, depends entirely on yourself.' This 
 man, without knowing it, may be the remedy. — Why, how 
 wonderful ! You, almost naked in the extremity of winter, 
 are comfortable ; while I, by my fireside, clad in three hun- 
 dred and sixty-five cloaks, am suffering with cold." " I 
 presume, sir," said the stranger, "your heart is cold. If 
 you could warm your heart, your cloaks would be a burden 
 to you." " Ah, that is impossible. However, you seem to 
 be a worthy man ; Heaven may have sent you here for 
 your own good, if not for mine. One cloak among three 
 hundred and sixty-five can make no great difference. 
 Take this cloak ; it was new yesterday, and may you never 
 want but one at a time." " I accept it most thankfully," 
 said the stranger ; and he departed. 
 
 The next morning Grindall either did feel, or thought 
 he felt, a little more comfortable. He sent for the inn- 
 keeper and related what had happened. " I feel," said 
 Grindall, " or fancy I feel relieved from the burden of the 
 last cloak." " If that is the case," said the innkeeper, " I 
 advise you to part with another." " With all my heart," 
 said Grindall, " if I could find an object." " Ay, sir, I 
 fear your trouble now will be to shake off your cloaks. 
 It is easier for you to procure a new cloak every day, than 
 to find every day a worthy object." " What shall I do ? 
 My outside cloak grows heavier and heavier ; it has already 
 become a grievous burden. Pray, sir, assist me ; you see 
 I cannot go abroad with all these cloaks. If I should fall 
 in my present bulk, I should roll again on to the lake, and 
 might not be dug out till spring." " Your case," said the 
 
90 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 innkeeper, " is certainly a strange one, and somewhat 
 marvellous ; for I now perceive you suffer more from the 
 weight of your cloaks than you do from the cold. Is it 
 not so ? " "I cannot say exactly that ; but the outside 
 cloak seems to feel heavier than all the others." " I wish 
 you were down east in the Bay State," said the innkeeper, 
 " among the poor people of Charlestown, who were all 
 burned out of house and home by the British. You would 
 find among them objects of pity enough ; for I understand 
 Congress never gave them a penny, — only told them to 
 call again." " If they were within one hundred yards of 
 me, I would send every one of them a cloak," said Grindall. 
 " But," said the innkeeper, " why do you not take off your 
 outside cloak, if it is such a burden ? Why do you wait 
 until you can find an object on whom to bestow it ? " "I 
 have tried that experiment twice this morning, and each 
 time a cold shivering obliged me to put it on again ; but if 
 I could find a worthy object, like the one yesterday, I fancy 
 that it might warm my heart. I wish to try the same 
 experiment again, even if I send to Massachusetts." " You 
 need not send so far ; only let it be known on the other 
 side of the lake that you have a cloak for a native Indian, 
 and you will not want for customers." " White, black, and 
 red, in distress," said Grindall, " are all my brethren ; only 
 find me a man in distress for a cloak, and you shall have 
 my hearty thanks." " A wonderful change, indeed," said 
 the innkeeper. " Only last summer there was no human 
 being with whom you could sympathize." " True, but 
 since yesterday I perceive I have something within me 
 which they call a heart ; for after I gave that cloak to 
 the poor man yesterday, I soon felt something stir within 
 me, warmer than all my cloaks. But talking never cured 
 a man like me ; send me a poor man in want of a cloak, 
 — that is the best doctor." 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 91 
 
 Soon afterward a stranger entered the door, and Grindall 
 asked if the innkeeper had sent him. " Yes," said the 
 stranger. " What did he tell you ? " " Nothing ; only to 
 go to Mr. Grindall's house, he wanted to see me." " Right ; 
 do you know any one really in want of a good warm cloak ? 
 You see I have more than my share." " I will thankfully 
 receive one," said the stranger. " But with this condition," 
 said Grindall, " that you send me another poor man who 
 is in want of a cloak." " With all my heart," said the 
 stranger. " Then take it with all my heart." 
 
 Thus from day to day Grindall grew a little warmer. 
 As the spring advanced, he found it more difficult to be- 
 stow his cloaks ; and on the approach of summer he was 
 obliged to employ twenty men in scouring the country 
 to hunt up suitable subjects. Though in winter the In- 
 dians were his best customers, yet in summer no Indian 
 would travel far to receive a cloak. 
 
 As the dog-days approached, the anxiety of Grindall was 
 redoubled ; for as the heat increased, though he suffered 
 nothing from it, yet the warmth of the remaining one 
 hundred and fifty cloaks required constant watching, lest 
 spontaneous combustion should consume both himself 
 and his woollen environment. This converted Grindall 
 sometimes into a real spectacle. While sitting in the sun 
 he would appear to be enveloped in a warm vapor, such as 
 you sometimes see in a morning, rising over a meadow ; 
 and when the sun played upon this vapor Grindall would 
 appear to be surrounded with beautiful rainbows. This 
 was considered by all the curious females in the neigh- 
 borhood a good sign ; and they all prophesied that Grin- 
 dall would yet come out bright. It is an ill wind that 
 blows nobody any good. Although this warm mist pro- 
 duced a vapor suffocating to Grindall, it was productive 
 of no little benefit to others. Thousands of eggs were 
 
92 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 sent to Grindall, who enveloped them in his cloaks ; and 
 after a little while, from under the skirts there proceeded 
 broods of chickens. This breed became famous. The 
 gallant little rooster on board McDonough's ship, who, 
 previous to the battle on Lalce Champlain, perched on the 
 foreyard and crowed thrice, cock-a-hoop, was of this same 
 breed. 
 
 One day toward the end of August, while Grindall 
 from his door-stone was watching the descending sun and 
 eagerly expecting the approach of a traveller to relieve 
 him from his outside cloak, it is said he suddenly made an 
 unnatural and hideous outcry, which echoed and re-echoed 
 through the mountains and over the lake, even to Mcm- 
 phremagog. This ebullition of Grindall must have been 
 terrific, for the wild beasts, then so numerous on the Green 
 Mountains, all left their lurking-places. The bears, cata- 
 mounts, and foxes, with one consent took to the trees. 
 The wolves alone stood their ground and answered to the 
 supposed challenge. It was feared at first that the howling 
 of the wolves would be everlasting ; for as the nature of 
 the wolf is gregarious, all within hearing assembled at the 
 first call, and soon an army of wolves collected around the 
 habitation of Grindall. As their howling, like the out- 
 cry of Grindall, echoed and re-echoed among the moun- 
 tains, the wolves njistook each individual howl of their own 
 for a new challenge ; and thus a continuous howl through 
 the remainder of the day and following night agitated the 
 Green Mountains, even to Montpelier, east, and to the 
 borders of Canada, north. But at sunrise all was quiet. 
 The howling, from pure exhaustion, gradually died away, 
 so that no echo was returned ; and then all was as still as 
 when Adam was a lone man. 
 
 One good sprung out of this incident. It was remarked 
 for several years afterward that in the vicinity of Ferris- 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 93 
 
 burg no ^vild beasts were to be seen. Hence deer, sheep, 
 and poultry, safe from their enemies, increased in geometri- 
 cal progression, to the utter subversion of the theory after- 
 ward promulgated by Mr. Malthus. The fact was, the wild 
 beasts had retired affrighted to other forests. 
 
 Now much of this wolvish story has doubtless been 
 added to the account of Grindall. Yet it is in some degree 
 credible, for it is well known that the human ear placed 
 near the earth can hear the report of a cannon forty 
 miles ; and we know that the beasts of the forest, natur- 
 ally carrying their heads low, have an ear vastly more 
 sensitive to sounds than man. 
 
 After this outcry Grindall exclaimed, " What could have 
 kept those men warm, half naked as they were, who cap- 
 tured Burgoyne on the other side of the lake ? They must 
 have had very warm hearts. Yes, it must be true, as the 
 stranger told me, the heart keeps the body warm. I see 
 it clearly ; the country is safe, — it never can be conquered. 
 Burgoyne spoke the truth when he said it is impossible to 
 conquer a people who fight till their small clothes drop off 
 in rags. Warm-hearted fellows, I wish I could give every 
 one of them a cloak ! But here am I, the wonder and 
 horror of all around me ; a dead weight on creation ; 
 worse, a monster, repulsive to man and beast, — the sport 
 of all nature. The elements conspire against me. I am 
 equally exposed to fire and frost. The sun laughs at me, 
 and buries me in a cloud of vapor. At one moment 1 am 
 threatened with a deluge ; at the next with a conflagra- 
 tion ; then comes a wind, a heart-withering wind, and dis- 
 sipates all and whistles through my flapping cloaks, and 
 sings in mockery : — 
 
 ' If old Grindall's heart is as cold as his head 
 Old Grindall's heart is the icicle's bed.' " 
 
 But this was only one of Grindall's ill turns. He was 
 
94 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 evidently growing better, and as the cool weather ap- 
 proached he appeared more anxious than ever to shake 
 off his cloaks. So far from appearing a doomed man to 
 his neighbors, he was considered a man changed only for 
 the. better. His house began to be crowded again with the 
 curious, and all those who delight in the marvellous. His 
 former visitors, except his medical oracles, who confessed 
 he was an outlaw to their several sj'stems, came to con- 
 gratulate him on what they termed his return to human 
 nature. 
 
 But now a new occurrence arrested the attention of all. 
 As the season advanced toward the anniversary of the 
 grand investment of the cloaks, the daily dispensation of 
 each cloak gave rise to various reports, utterly subver- 
 sive of the human character of Grindall. The fact was 
 thus : Immediately preceding the divesting of a cloak, it 
 would appear to be animated with life. It would first 
 tremble, then crankle, and then dance all around the 
 body of Grindall. It would seem joyful, almost intelli- 
 gent, and inclined to speak. It did not shrivel or show 
 any sign of distress. Not a few asserted all this was ac- 
 companied by a noise not unlike the rumbling of distant 
 thunder. But the moment the cloak was put off, it was 
 as quiet as lamb's wool. No wonder it began to be noised 
 abroad that there was an evil spirit in each cloak. 
 
 Fortunate was it for Grindall that no ventriloquist added 
 to the alarm ; for in those days Mr. Page could have made 
 all these cloaks speak whatever language he pleased, and 
 thus the unhappy Grindall might have suffered an igno- 
 minious fate, under the statute of James the First, against 
 witchcraft and sorcery. But the event soon showed there 
 was no evil spirit concealed in these cloaks ; and, if I may 
 hazard an opinion at this late day, I would account for it 
 all in a natural way. There was, no doubt, daily a strange 
 
THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 95 
 
 appearance in each cloak previous to its leaving the body 
 of Grindall. It may have trembled, and may have ap- 
 peared to flutter about his body. This simple circum- 
 stance, even in the present enlightened times, would 
 immediately grow into the marvellous. All these strange 
 appearances might arise from the bounding heart of 
 Grindall. Every cloak that he gave away expanded his 
 heart. It beat high with the joyful assurance that when 
 all his cloaks had left him, he would become a well man ; 
 hence the agitation of his heart caused him and his whole 
 environment to tremble, and the supposed thunder was 
 only noise caused by his heart-throbs. Greater mistakes 
 than this have been made down east, near Boston, where 
 the good people of a certain town on the sea-coast lived 
 a whole century, after the settlement of the country, on 
 shags, mistaking them for wild geese. 
 
 However the truth might be, respecting this affair of the 
 cloaks, one thing is certain, — it was near proving fatal to 
 Grindall ; for many of those who came to receive a cloak 
 in charity, when they saw its tumultuous quaking, declined 
 receiving one through fear of catching the palsy. But 
 after a little while, when they saw these cloaks lie so quiet 
 when cast off from Grindall, and perfectly harmless to 
 the wearer, the few remaining cloaks became popular, al- 
 though the last of them trembled the most and danced 
 the longest. 
 
 The Canadian traveller on his return remembered his 
 promise, and stopped to greet Grindall, who had. just 
 shaken off his last cloak. Grindall regarded him with a 
 feeling of awful respect. He stood silent, but the traveller 
 heard Grindall's heart speak. " Your looks, Mr. Grindall, 
 have told me all. You have found the remedy. You now 
 know how to keep yourself warm in the coldest weather ; 
 but in order to keep yourself constantly warm, you must 
 
96 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 
 
 have a constantly warm heart. None of your sudden im- 
 pulses, warm to-day and cold to-morrow. Most men are 
 governed by impulses, and they endeavor to offset against 
 habitual coldness, a single warm impulse. There is little 
 merit in that. The rattlesnake ' is poisonous, although 
 it may show you many golden specks scattered over its 
 back. In short, Mr. Grindall, if you desire never to want 
 another cloak, keep a warm heart." Grindall followed 
 this advice, and before he died became a proverb. " As 
 good as old Grindall," is still current west of the Green 
 Mountains. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF THE SUFFERINGS OF 
 A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF THE SUFFERINGS OF A 
 COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 YE happy beings of tranquil stomach, who sleep on 
 beds of down, feed heartily, and fear nothing but 
 the nightmare, — ye who are fondly looking for a passage 
 through the Isthmus of Darien, in prospect of the turtle of 
 the Galapagos Islands, listen to the sufferings of a country 
 schoolmaster. 
 
 I was born in New England of white parents, and 
 received my education at the University in Cambridge. 
 Until my twentieth year I was a member of that sect of 
 happy mortals who think with Mr. Pope, " all is for the 
 best." At that time the fatal sisters spun me a yarn of 
 new color, and caught me in the web, which literally 
 preyed upon my entrails. 
 
 In the fourth year of my college life, ere I had arrived 
 at man's estate, and although born of white parents, I was 
 at noonday publicly sold at auction, on one fatal day in 
 March, at a March meeting, — to me the ides of March ! 
 On that day was I sold at public auction, and afterwards, 
 in the month of December, was I kidnapped into a district 
 school in the town of . 
 
 The proceedings relative to me at March meeting ran 
 thus, — " Mr. Moderator, I know as well as any man alive 
 the advantages of learning ; and as we have thirty dollars 
 
100 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 in the treasury, I vote that we spend the whole next win- 
 ter in giving the boys a complete education." " Second the 
 motion," said another, " and let us have a schoolmaster col- 
 lege-learnt." It was put to vote, and carried unanimously. 
 " But who will board the master ? " said one ; " I will," 
 said another ; " and I will," said a third ; " and I live near- 
 est to the school," said a fourth. On this, a man arose 
 and said, " The master should be put up at auction, and 
 whoever will take him for the least money, sliould have 
 him." Agreed ; and ten and sixpence, and ten and five- 
 pence, and ten and fourpence, down to seven and sixpence, 
 regularly decreasing a penny, were successively bidden for 
 me. I was knocked down at seven and sixpence. Nothing 
 of all this, at the time, could be known to me ; and although 
 the town had sacrificed a victim, it could not be foreseen on 
 whom destiny would fix for the future schoolmaster. 
 
 The month of December came ; and it was soon known 
 that a schoolmaster was wanted for two months in the 
 
 town of . Fifteen dollars per month were no small 
 
 temptation to a young man who had never seen a bank-bill 
 numbered higher than five. The best scholars, all of them, 
 refused the offer, alleging it would be a reproach to litera- 
 ture to teach a school for fifteen dollars per month, when 
 they could get as much for tending a stable in Boston ; and 
 as horses are generally more docile than boys, the stable 
 had the preference. 
 
 At length the proposal was made to me. " Fifteen dol- 
 lars per month," thought I, " is very well to begin with. If 
 I refuse, I shall certainly lose the money, and then I shall 
 as certainly dream of it. Now it is vastly more pleasing to 
 dream that you have got the money, than to dream that 
 you have lost it." Unluckily, at that moment Shakspeare 
 threw in one of his old saws, — " There is a tide in the 
 affairs of men " etc. The town agent, who was empowered 
 
SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 101 
 
 to secure me, saw my hesitation. He was a sensible, keen- 
 looking, hard-featured man, as sharp-faced as if he had 
 long been fixed for a weather-cock at the North Pole. He 
 was dressed quite tidily, and wore his hair queued with an 
 eel skin. His coat was more than square at the skirts, 
 much like a mainsail. 
 
 " Young man," said the town agent, " do not think 
 lightly of thirty dollars. All things in this world proceed 
 from small beginnings ; a pint of acorns in process of time 
 will send a seventy-four to sea. With respect to your- 
 self, learned as I suppose you are, you began with the 
 alphabet. Franklin tells you that five shillings seemed to 
 him the nest-egg of all his future prosperity. If you are 
 inclined to go with me, the amount which you will receive 
 ought to encourage you ; for let me tell you, no man has 
 ever received so much from the town." 
 
 " What do you tell me ? " said I. " Do you offer me the 
 most that any schoolmaster ever received in your town?" 
 
 " We never, before now, gave more than ten dollars 
 per month." 
 
 Here, Alexander the Great conspired against me. I 
 recollected he was offered the freedom of a certain petty 
 Grecian city ; and when he snorted at the offer, they told 
 him he need not turn up his nose, for no stranger except 
 Hercules had ever received that honor. He then gra- 
 ciously accepted the offer. I considered it would be entered 
 on record that I was the first schoolmaster who had ever 
 received fifteen dollars per month in the town of . 
 
 " Besides, sir," said the town agent, " money is not so 
 easily obtained as you young men imagine. Look at this 
 great brick building that you inhabit, and consider for a 
 moment how it was built, from the first stroke of the pick- 
 axe to the well formed brick in the hands of the mason. 
 Heaven and earth united do not give you a mouthful of 
 
102 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 bread short of three months. Would you know, young 
 man, the real value of money, go to Salem." 
 
 In short, the money tempted me, and I, in an evil hour, 
 was seduced. I went with the town agent ; and after a 
 day's journey, passing through many cross-roads, wo ar- 
 rived at a place which appeared to be outlawed from the 
 rest of the world. It was the month of December, and no 
 snow had fallen, though all was frost-bound. At a dis- 
 tance 1 saw a house in the midst of an abrupt, broken, 
 and mountainous landscape. The herbage far and wide 
 was so sere and withered that it was doubtful if any 
 future Spring could refresh it. Such will be the deso- 
 lation when Time with his scythe shall visit that place 
 at his last call. 
 
 " There," said the town agent, " is your boarding place," 
 pointing to a tottering house, the top of which was covered 
 with moss, and shone like an emerald. 
 
 " Heavens ! " said I, " can you have a heart to leave a 
 fellow-creature in this desolate place ? It would be in vain 
 to cry for help here, if any one should attempt to murder 
 me." 
 
 " Fear nothing," said he, " crimes are unknown here ; 
 the family sleep with their doors and windows open in 
 summer." 
 
 " But," said I, " the wild beasts will catch me." 
 
 " Fear nothing," said he ; " we should have reason to 
 rejoice at the sight of a wild beast ; he would soon take 
 off the rust from our spits." 
 
 Saying this, he dropped me on an ill-shapen door-stone 
 that looked as if it had grown there, and disappeared with 
 a satisfaction he could ill conceal. 
 
 I was cold, hungry, and sleepy, all which together gave 
 me uncommon courage. I entered the house, and was 
 welcomed with great diffidence. The family was small, 
 
SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 103 
 
 consisting of an elderly man, his wife, a son grown to 
 manhood, and a daughter. If the scenery without the house 
 was appalling, a fine lesson was read to you within doors. 
 Here, nothing was superfluous, and everything within reach. 
 You could stand before the fire and reach every article of 
 the kitchen establishment, from the gridiron and warming- 
 pan down to the pudding-bag and dripping-pan. There 
 was no separate kitchen to the house ; and, from neces- 
 sity, the keeping-room served for " kitchen and parlor and 
 all." " How few things," thought I, " will satisfy our 
 real wants. .Thousands in Boston would die of chagrin if 
 reduced to this necessity ; yet Adam and Eve lived very 
 comfortably without any of these things." 
 
 After inquiring the number of my scholars and the dis- 
 tance of the schoolhouse, I requested a morsel of victuals. 
 The table was immediately set, and a slice of bread and a 
 slice of cheese, with a pewter pot of cider were presented 
 to me. The cheese was beautifully white, — it looked ex- 
 actly like Stilton cheese ; but to the taste it was quite dif- 
 ferent. I have since heard the same sort of cheese called 
 white oak. The bread was sweet enough, but rather too 
 solid ; the knife cut as smoothly through it as it would 
 through the cheese-like clay near Hartford Asylum. The 
 cider was as clear as a rivulet, and would have been excel- 
 lent had it tasted of the apple. I had resolved to conform 
 to the family, and render myself agreeable ; therefore lest 
 they might think me delicate in my diet, I ate up all on 
 the table. 
 
 Immediately after supper I was shown upstairs to my 
 bed-chamber, where I fortunately found a bed and one 
 chair. There was only one superfluous thing in the room, 
 — a fireplace ; but there were no tongs nor shovel nor 
 andirons, nor any signs that a wreath of smoke had ever 
 passed up chimney. But to a weary man sleep is sleep. 
 
104 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 whether on down or straw. Nature was always a leveller 
 between bedtime and uprising. 
 
 In the morning I began my daily labors. The school- 
 house was nearly a mile from my abode in a northwesterly 
 direction ; but nothing is better than exercise for a scliool- 
 master. From the appearance of the surrounding country, 
 I anticipated an easy task, especially when 1 saw the 
 schoolhousc, which appeared like a martin-box at a short 
 distance. 1 was quickly undeceived ; although the school- 
 house was very small, it was full within, and surrounded 
 without. Whether it was the novelty of a " college-learnt" 
 schoolmaster, or a laudable desire of obtaining a good 
 pennyworth of learning, 1 cannot tell ; but certain it is, 
 the building could not contain one half of the scholars. 
 Whence they all came I could not imagine , the surround- 
 ing country gave no sign of animal life. 1 should as soon 
 have thought of opening a school six weeks after the flood 
 as in that place. In this perplexity 1 thought it most rea- 
 sonable to fill the schoolhousc with the most ignorant, and 
 dismiss the rest. Accordingly, after a short examination I 
 retained about fifty, and sent as many home. This plan 
 was considered by many very judicious, and rendered 
 me popular. But alas ! I soon found that popularity 
 would not fill an empty stomach. From the first day I 
 perceived I was at board on speculation, and that I was 
 limited to less than one dollar and twenty-five cents' worth 
 of food per week. To sit down to one's dinner with an 
 appetite is agreeable, but to rise from table with all the 
 pangs of devouring hunger would excite the pity of Tan- 
 talus. The ancients could invent nothing worse than to 
 show a hungry man a good dinner and deny him a taste; 
 I think I could have added to the misery of Tantalus, — 
 I would occasionally have given him a taste. 
 
 The pangs of hunger began now to assail me. The 
 
SUFFERINCxS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 105 
 
 increasing cold, and the daily exercise of travelling four 
 miles to and from school, soon gave me a voracious ap- 
 petite ; and as the good people with whom I lived had 
 taken me upon speculation, I was at the mercy of a close 
 calculation. Thrice a day my host gauged that part of 
 man which requires food, and as he always reckoned with- 
 out me, he made no allowance for my wants. Within two 
 days after my arrival my head became sorely affected ; I 
 felt drowsy in the forenoon soon after breakfast. This I 
 immediately attributed to the right cause. Instead of real 
 coffee, I discovered that I had been drinking the decoction 
 of a noxious drug, the grain of which has been known to 
 kill horses and oxen, — I mean rye coffee, so fatal to the 
 intellects of the sedentary and studious. I complained 
 that rye was injurious to my head, and requested I might, 
 instead thereof, have tea. But alas, there was no tea in 
 the house ; they said they had conceived a prejudice against 
 tea ever since the Revolution. My next request was a bowl 
 of milk — but alas, the cow was dry ! 
 
 In a few days all the luxuries with which the house was 
 stored at my coming were exhausted. The cheese, the 
 butter, the flour disappeared. Fresh meat there was none ; 
 no beef-cart was ever seen in that precinct. I began to 
 fear for the pork barrel. That bread wliich at first, in the 
 wantonness of my appetite, I compared to Hartford clay, 
 was now more delicious than the first bread-cake of the 
 Pilgrims. One day as I sat down to dinner, foreseeing 
 that should I eat all on the table I should rise with an 
 increased appetite, I fainted at the recollection of an inci- 
 dent which had occurred to me ten years before. When a 
 boy, I passed through the town of Lynn, in the county of 
 Essex, on my way to Exeter, in the stage. Just opposite 
 the residence of Mrs. Mary Pitcher, the stage broke down ; 
 the whiffletree parted, the braces snapped asunder, and 
 
106 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 there seemed to be a sudden and unaccountable wreck 
 of everything, but no one was injured. The passengers, 
 one and all, exclaimed that it was done by witchcraft. " It 
 is quite likely," said the stage-driver, " for there stands 
 Mrs. Pitcher at her door, with her cup in her hand." The 
 passengers beckoned to her, and she came out to see them, 
 evidently pleased — as I suppose witches always are — at 
 the accom})lishment of their purposes. However, as it is 
 always best to bespeak the good-will of a witch, the passen- 
 gers treated Mrs. Pitcher with great courtesy, and gave her 
 some money. She examined the faces of all of us, and for 
 the most part made flattering comments ; but when she 
 laid her piercing black eyes on me she stood considering a 
 moment, then clapped me on the head and buried her hand 
 in my flaxen hair, and gently shook me, saying, " You are 
 a very likely boy, Johnny, but I fear you will one day die 
 of Imngcr." The sudden recollection of Mrs. Pitcher's 
 prophecy gave me such an " ill turn " that the family ob- 
 served it, and asked me if I was indisposed. I told them I 
 felt rather faint. They immediately insisted on my empty- 
 ing tlie vinegar-cruet, telling me that vinegar was the 
 " sovereigncst thing on earth " for a fainting fit. 
 
 To one who has never palled his appetite in a pastry 
 shop, and whose Spartan diet only rendered hunger more 
 keen, the idle ceremony of daily holding a knife and fork 
 tended oidy to increase the desire to eat. By degrees the 
 cravings of hunger changed my nature, and took absolute 
 possession of my imagination. One day the whole dinner 
 consisted of one dumpling, which tliey called a pudding, 
 and five sausages, which in cooking shrunk to pipe-stems. 
 There were five of us at table. My portion of pudding 
 was put on my plate; I swallowed thrice, and it disap- 
 peared. My one sausage was put on my plate ; I swallowed 
 twice, and my dinner was ended. I rose from table, deeply 
 
SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 107 
 
 impressed with the beauty of that passage in Job : Be- 
 hold now Behemoth ; he eateth grass as an ox ; he drinketh 
 up a river ; he trusteth he can draw up Jordan into his 
 mouth. So I, in my imagination, thought I could devour 
 whole hecatombs. I fancied a roast pig would be but a 
 mouthful. A knife and fork seemed the most useless things 
 in the world. With the two legs of a turkey in each hand 
 I made a lantern of the carcass in a moment ; chickens and 
 partridges I swallowed whole. If the globe had been a 
 pasty, I thought I could have swallowed it. Captain Symmes 
 and all. Thus would my distempered fancy prepare the 
 greatest delicacies ; so that I often detected myself in the 
 act of working my jaws as though I were actually eating 
 substantial food. 
 
 I had recently read Riley's " Narrative " of his suffer- 
 ings in Africa, and was at the time sensibly affected. 
 Now I began to laugh at Riley and his companions, and 
 wished myself one of the company. Any man may easily 
 imagine that the sense of hunger is far more keen and 
 devouring on the hills of New England in the winter than 
 in the soft climate of Arabia, where, if a man can once in 
 twenty-four hours swallow a pint of camel's milk, he is 
 perfectly happy. 
 
 As my sufferings became daily more and more dreadful, 
 I was put upon my wits ; and as necessity is the mother of 
 invention, one half of that time which I ought to have de- 
 voted to my school was employed in devising means of 
 preserving my life. And here, in justification of myself, I 
 ought to observe that a man consumed by hunger becomes 
 by degrees destitute of all moral principle. There was at 
 school one little round-faced, chubby, fat fellow of about 
 forty pounds' weight, on whom I cast my evil eye; for 
 the extremity of hunger makes cannibals equally of the 
 civilized and the savage. The Jewish mother, and the 
 
108 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 recent experience of the French army in their retreat from 
 Russia are examples of this. But fortunately a better mor- 
 sel was soon thrown in my way. Some of the schoolboys 
 had discovered and killed a skunk, and had left it near the 
 schoolhouse. When I had dismissed the scholars, I seized 
 upon my prey and returned to the schoolroom. With the 
 help of my penknife I quickly stripped off the skin, and had 
 the pleasure of seeing fresh meat. I laid the tongs and 
 shovel across the andirons, and placed the creature over a 
 bed of coals. I broiled it a])out fifteen minutes ; and when 
 I supposed it sufficiently cooked, I cut it in halves, meaning 
 to eat one half, and hide the other in the woods for an- 
 other repast. But my appetite was sovereign ; after I had 
 eaten the one half, so delicious was the morsel I could not 
 restrain the call for more, and I devoured the whole. That 
 was a bright and happy day ; but my hunger soon returned. 
 Wild meat is not so substantial food as the stalled ox. 
 
 A few days afterward, being faint and weary on my re- 
 turn from school, my eyes were delighted at the sight of 
 an animal I had never before seen. It was a raccoon which 
 the young man Jonathan had taken or rather overtaken, 
 for he caught it with the help of his hands and feet. So 
 the observation of the town agent, " If a wild beast should 
 be detected in these parts, he would soon take off the rust 
 from the spit," was true. As soon as the raccoon was 
 discovered the young man gave chase. The creature 
 after some time ran under a rock for protection, whence 
 he was soon ferreted, and a well-aimed stone entirely dis- 
 abled him. He was brought home in triumph ; and when 
 skinned, he seemed to be one entire mass of fatness, of a 
 most delicate whiteness. I was overjoyed ; and both the 
 cat and the dog leaped for joy. The dog in particular was 
 transported. When he looked steadily at the raccoon the 
 water ran from his mouth in a stream. It was in truth 
 
SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 109 
 
 an equal temptation either to an epicure or to a man per- 
 ishing with hunger. If Vitellius and Albinus had lived in 
 the same age, they would more readily have fought for that 
 raccoon than for the Roman empire. I retired to bed, as 
 was my custom, as early as I could with decency ; for I 
 soon learned that all the time I could pass in sleep was 
 clear gain to my stomach. But sleep for a long time 
 fled before a beautiful apparition in the form of the rac- 
 coon. At length I fell into a slumber ; and oh, had I 
 been a Mussulman 1 should have wished never to awake. 
 I seemed to see the raccoon suspended on a hook, and 
 hanging majestically before the fire, perspiring most beau- 
 tifully into the dripping-pan. The raccoon roasting in this 
 manner showed to far greater advantage than if he had 
 been run through with a spit. I eagerly watched it all the 
 time it was roasting ; the flavor of it was ravishing, — no 
 heathen god ever smelt such an incense. At length I saw 
 it placed before me on the table ; and I seemed to have the 
 whole raccoon within reach of my knife and fork, and 
 most uncourteously I seized upon the whole for myself. 
 Yet, however impolite this may appear, it was quite natural ; 
 for I know by experience that excessive hunger is exces- 
 sively selfish. Steak after steak, slice after slice, collop 
 after collop I carved from the raccoon ; and when I could 
 cut no more, I took every bone from its socket, and as 
 though my appetite increased by the meat I fed on, I 
 seized those bones and polished every one of them to 
 the smoothness of ivory. When I had eaten all the 
 meat, I awoke ; and such had been the deceit practised 
 on my senses, that after I was satisfied it was all a dream, 
 I could not keep my jaws still, so inveterately were they 
 bent on eating. However, as there is no good in this 
 world without its evil, so there is no evil without its good. 
 I readily consoled myself in anticipation of the real rac- 
 
no SUFFEKINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 coon, which the coming morrow would place in reality on 
 a real table. 
 
 Long before daylight I heard the family stirring ; and 
 the alacrity of their footsteps, and the repeated opening and 
 shutting of doors, all gave assurance of the coming holiday. 
 I arose and loosened the strap which after the Indian 
 manner I had buckled around my body in order to pacify 
 the corrosions of hunger. This I recommend to all who 
 may hereafter fall into my distress, A leathern belt with 
 a buckle, drawn tight around the waist, will be of great 
 service ; for tlie more you can contract the stomach, the 
 little mill within, which is always grinding, will have the 
 less room to play. 
 
 I was soon ready for breakfast, and when seated at 
 table I observed the place of Jonathan vacant. " Where is 
 Jonathan ? " said I. " Gone to market," said they. " Mar- 
 ket ! what market, pray ? I did not know there was any 
 market in these parts." " Oh, yes," said they, " he is gone 
 
 to , about thirty miles to the southward of us." 
 
 " And what has called him up so early to go to market ? " 
 " He is gone," said they, " to sell his raccoon." I should 
 have fainted again, but the dread of vinegar preserved my 
 senses. I now resigned myself to my fate, and patiently 
 awaited the accomplishment of Mrs. Pitcher's prediction. 
 
 " I am doomed," thought I, " to a strange destiny. If I 
 perish here I shall die ingloriously and unpitied. If I ab- 
 scond, I shall lose my honor, and the story of my sufferings 
 will never be credited. There would be some satisfaction in 
 being drowned or assassinated, or in perishing with hun- 
 ger in a noble attempt to discover the source of the Nile, 
 or in exploring the outlet of the Niger ; but to perish here 
 in the woods, — perhaps in a snowdrift, where I may lie 
 till spring, if the birds of prey do not find me, — is fearfully 
 depressing." I then turned my thoughts wistfully to the 
 
SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. HI 
 
 seaboard ; and no landscape was ever so pleasing to Claude, 
 as the recollection of the clam-banks at low water, on the 
 seashore, was to me. How happy should I be if I could steal 
 away in the night and watch the ebbing tide, and enjoy a 
 feast of shells ! I then compared my situation with that 
 of the first settlers of New England, and thought they had 
 a great advantage over me. When the winter drove the 
 fishes into deep water, they could always get a discount at 
 their banks ; clams in abundance, and even the more deli- 
 cious quahaug could always be had at bank hours. 
 
 In going to school that morning, I perceived a large 
 flock of crows. It was a dark, bitter-cold morning ; and 
 the crows hovered over and scaled around my head. "Ah," 
 thought I, " sagacious birds, do you foresee that my strength 
 will soon fail, and that I shall fall a prey to you ? Oh, 
 that the severity of the cold would freeze some of your 
 wings that you might become a prey to me." Then, half 
 delirious, my imagination carried me to the first inhabi- 
 tants of Charlestown. Happy people! Instead of the crows 
 coming after them, wild geese in a time of famine were 
 ready to fly down their chimneys on to their roasting-hooks. 
 Those worthy people had appointed a thanksgiving, which 
 threatened to change itself into a fast. The night preced- 
 ing the day of thanksgiving was intensely cold ; and while 
 an immense flock of wild geese were pursuing their way to 
 the South, the frost suddenly seized their wings, arrested 
 their progress, and they all fell down into Charlestown 
 Square. Every family not only filled their bellies the whole 
 winter, but also filled their beds with down. Whereas, I 
 was reduced to the extremity that a crow a hundred years 
 old would have been to me the richest treasure. 
 
 The next day beheld the earth covered with a deep snow. 
 My fears now multiplied upon me. " This snow," thought 
 I, " will be my winding-sheet ; I can never in my present 
 
112 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 weakness force my way through these snowdrifts. I shall 
 perish with a double starvation, — with both cold and hun- 
 ger. But courage, courage ! " said I. Hope often lingers 
 after the footsteps of despair ; and help came even when 
 hope was gone. In fact, that day proved to me the happiest 
 day in the calendar of that year. I succeeded in gaining the 
 schoolhouse after travelling double the distance ; for I was 
 so weak that in balancing myself I would frequently retreat 
 two steps backward, and then in rescuing one leg from a 
 snowpit, I would lose my balance and stagger in a semi- 
 circle. It is really incredible how much a man can endure 
 in a good cause. But I hasten to describe the most happy 
 occurrence of my life. On my return from school, at the 
 moment when one leg was about refusing to follow the 
 other, and the belt which I had loosened the day before in 
 expectation of the raccoon, had just fallen down and was 
 resting on my hips, I saw at a distance an object partly 
 buried in a snowdrift, which appeared to be a living animal. 
 Had it been the Nemcan lion I would have attacked it 
 with no other weapon than my penknife. On approaching 
 the creature I perceived it was a cow. Instantly I resolved 
 to have a steak. I had just read Bruce's travels in Abys- 
 sinia, and he had taught me the art of cutting a steak from a 
 living cow in the real oriental style. On examination I per- 
 ceived she was a new milch cow, and carried not less than a 
 pail of milk in her bag. I preferred the milk to the meat, 
 and did not mangle the cow. How to get at the milk was 
 the thought only of a moment. I perceived the top of a 
 stone wall at a little distance, which the late snow-storm 
 had not quite covered. Xow, hunger will as readily leap 
 over as break through a stone wall. I succeeded in forcing 
 the cow to straddle the stone wall. In that situation she 
 was as quiet as at her own stanchion. I cleared away the 
 snow and laid mvself down in the form of the letter Y on 
 
SUFFEEINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 113 
 
 my back between the cow's legs, and slie was milked in less 
 time than a cow was ever milked before. While draining; 
 the cow, my belt soon began to tighten, and became painful ; 
 but my handy penknife quickly cut it asunder. When I 
 had drained the last drop, I threw down the wall and let 
 the cow go. If a pint is a pound, I arose sixteen pounds 
 heavier ; yet I felt no ill consequence from that copious 
 draught ; it lay in my stomach like a poultice. 
 
 The timely succor of the cow sustained me several days ; 
 so that I began to bid defiance to the crows. I lived in 
 hope of meeting with that beautiful cow again ; but unhap- 
 pily I never saw her more. 
 
 The pains of hunger began again to consume me. 
 Strange fancies haunted me in my sleep ; I rambled 
 through the country, milking in my own way every cow 
 I met, and hamstringing every ox, and cutting steaks from 
 them. So jealous did I become, that I often questioned 
 myself in my sleep, and argued the point whether I was 
 really eating or dreaming. Once in particular, I well re- 
 member that I insisted I was eating a beefsteak, and held 
 it up on my fork, and said, " This is real beef, this can- 
 not be a dream — I am certain I am eating an excel- 
 lent beefsteak, I cannot be dreaming now ; so inveterate 
 and persisting, busy and alert is excessive hunger. It 
 haunts you by night and by day, awake and asleep. But 
 happily though the sense of hunger is most ferocious, it 
 is not inclined to despair. Had you hung a sirloin of beef 
 on one horn of the moon, my hunger would have hoped 
 to reach it. 
 
 When I became reduced a second time, so low that my 
 belt was lost between my ribs, I was relieved by a happy 
 mistake. Instead of the snuff of a candle which was usu- 
 ally handed to light me to bed, I found the candlestick 
 adorned with more than half of a tallow candle. I cut the 
 
114 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 candle into four pieces, ate the tallow, and reserved the 
 wicks for the last extremity. Before I fell asleep, I fancied 
 I felt something stirring the hedclothes. It was a rat 
 cautiously climbing up the bed-rug. On any other occa- 
 sion this would have been an unpleasant visitor — but in- 
 stantly I saw my advantage. I feigned a sound sleep, lay 
 quiet, and set my trap. For a starving man — I appeal to 
 France — cannot distinguish between a rat and a squirrel. 
 I opened my mouth uncommonly wide, nearly from ear to 
 ear. The hungry rat, attracted by the smell of the tallow, 
 the perfume of which had not evaporated from my lips, 
 softly approached my mouth, and began to lick the rem- 
 nant, if any remnant there was, of the tallow. I am con- 
 vinced the rat was as hungry as I was, and from his gen- 
 tle movements, I am satisfied he designed me no harm ; 
 therefore I have ever since felt a regret at the foul trick I 
 played him. When the rat had tenderly passed over my 
 upper, he began with my under lip ; and when he was about 
 midway, directly under my nose, I made a sudden snap, 
 took his whole head into my mouth, and strangled him 
 between my teeth. When the rat was quiet, I dropped 
 him on the floor and fell asleep. 
 
 The next morning the candle was missing, and on be- 
 ing questioned, I replied with great truth I had no doubt it 
 was eaten, as I had seen a rat in the room. 
 
 I now began to think I might probably survive to the 
 end of my engagement, as it was drawing to a close, and 
 I had four candlewicks, well saturated, and a large rat 
 safely deposited in my trunk. 
 
 At this time a strange sight appeared in the neighbor- 
 hood. A man with a load of pork, bound for Boston, had 
 lost his way. He came up to our door to ask for direc- 
 tions. I detained him as long as I possibly could, for 
 the sake of beholding the charming swine. My stomach 
 
SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 115 
 
 dilated at the sight, and my teeth began to move. As the 
 man and team moved off, I discovered for the first time 
 that I was a ventriloquist. There came an audible, dis- 
 tinct voice from the lower region of my stomach, saying, 
 " It is suicide to die of hunger, when food is placed before 
 your eyes. Fly ! cut a collop." " But," said I, " thou shalt 
 not steal." The voice replied, " That law was not made 
 for an empty stomach." I rejoined, " The law has made 
 no exception." " Fool," said the voice, " had you rather 
 eat a rat than a pork-steak ? " I confess I was not entirely 
 convinced ; however, I followed after the team, and slyly 
 slid behind it, and, whether feloniously or justifiably the 
 Supreme Court can determine, with my penknife I cut 
 two as handsome steaks as Eumteus cut from the two 
 porkers with which he regaled Ulysses. Oh, the beau- 
 tiful steaks of red and white ! I see them even now in 
 all their allurement. I put my booty in my pocket, and 
 hastened to deposit it in my trunk. -Never did time 
 linger so lazily ; the sun appeared to me to be travelling to 
 the east, so impatient was I for night, in order to taste of 
 my dainty ; for it was now more than six weeks since I 
 had had a smack at fresh meat, except that which I had 
 eaten at the schoolroom. Bedtime at length arrived, and I 
 retired, not to sleep, but to the most delightful contem- 
 plations. I cut those steaks latitudinally, and longitudi- 
 nally into more sections than you find marked on the 
 terrestrial globe. Nothing in the world appeared to me so 
 captivating as pork-steaks. Plad I been a calico-painter or 
 paper-stainer, the only figures would have been pork-steaks. 
 When all was quiet, I arose, opened my trunk, took out 
 my steaks, softly descended to the kitchen, raked open the 
 coals, rubbed the rust off the gridiron, placed my steaks 
 thereon, and soon began to snuff the delicious flavor. The 
 dog who was outside of the house, no less quick-scented, im- 
 
116 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 mediately began to bark. For fear of disturbing the family 
 I opened the door, and let him in ; but alas, before I could 
 shut the door, he flew at the steaks, seized one in his 
 mouth, and although 1 seized him ])y the neck with one 
 hand, and thrust the other into his mouth, at one gulp he 
 swallowed the whole. While I was contending with the 
 dog, the cat seized the other steak and fled up-chamber. 
 
 Many a man has succumbed at a less disappointment 
 than tliis. "But, courage!" said I; "do not despair, 
 you have still a rat and four candlewicks." I retired to 
 bed, and soon began to dream of my steaks ; and when 
 I had eaten them, awoke, and found my lips moving 
 as usual. 
 
 The next morning discovered a trait in natural history, 
 which I will here notice, for the satisfaction of the curious. 
 The dog appeared to be sensible he had wronged me. No 
 soothing could induce him to look me in the face. He lost 
 his animation, curled his tail between his legs, and hung 
 his head down to his feet. The next day the dog ab- 
 sconded. At first I attributed this to his sense of honor, 
 then to his sagacity ; he had obtained one taste of fresh 
 meat, and was no longer a domestic animal ; but I was 
 in part deceived, as will quickly appear. 
 
 I was now reduced again to great extremity, but was 
 unwilling to depredate on the treasure in my trunk, for I 
 had still a week more to suffer. However, on retiring to 
 rest that night, I determined in the morning to cat two 
 candlewicks, and carry the rat to school and cook it in the 
 intermission. Soon as I awoke and could distinctly see, my 
 wistful eyes turned to my trunk. I partly arose, my eyes 
 still fixed on my trunk, and to my sorrow, I saw a mouse 
 leisurely go down the side. Miserable wretch ! on taking 
 the steaks from the trunk, I had carelessly suffered the 
 clasp of the lock to rest on the ridge of it, and left ample 
 
SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 117 
 
 room for a mouse and a cat's paw to plunder me. Both 
 the rat and candlewicks were gone ! 
 
 Now, indeed, for the first time, my spirits began to fail 
 me. The remembrance of the Lynn lady's expression came 
 over me with a fearful foreboding. I hesitated for a moment 
 to go to school. But as it was a beautiful, bright morning, 
 my official duty urged me on ; and with a heart heavier 
 than all the rest of my body, I pursued my way through 
 the pathless snowdrifts. The . crows, my former visitors, 
 with a numerous recruit hovered over my head, uttering omi- 
 nous language. Instead of " caw, caw," they seemed to me 
 to say, " We are come." At this moment, a whirl of snow 
 nearly engulfed me. My bones trembled in their sockets ; 
 the north wind pierced me through, and shook every fibre 
 of my body. My right leg faltered and sunk into a snow- 
 pit, and my left leg refused to help it out. My danger 
 was imminent ; for although I had sufficient strength, 
 perhaps, to fight off a crow, an eagle or a vulture in my 
 emaciated state could have borne me off an unresisting 
 victim. At that moment had an umbrella been at my 
 command, I should have tied myself to the stick and took 
 my chance to other regions. But, joy ! The spirit of hun- 
 ger again burst forth in ventriloquism. " See the dog with 
 a rabbit ! " exclaimed a voice from the lower regions of 
 my stomach. It was true — the noble animal came up to 
 me, bold as a lion, his eyes glistening through tears, his 
 tail lashing each side of his hams ; he laid a prodigious 
 large rabbit at my feet. When the crows saw this they 
 disappeared, and I saw no more of them. I placed the 
 rabbit in my bosom, covering it with my waistcoat ; and I 
 presume there was room for a dozen more. 
 
 This rabbit I took effectual care to secure to myself. 
 On the first opportunity I took off the skin, cut it in four 
 parts, and put them in my pockets, meaning to eat a 
 
118 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 quarter part daily. But let no hungry man in future say, 
 " Thus much will I eat, and no more." When I had 
 broiled and eaten one fore-quarter, I was more voracious 
 than ever ; and while exerting all my power of restraint, 
 the voice below exclaimed, " Treat every part of your 
 stomach alike ! " In short, I broiled and ate the hind- 
 quarter ; then the other fore-quarter ; and lastly, the other 
 hind-quarter : yet after I had eaten the whole, I thought I 
 liad swallowed only the phantom of a rabbit. 
 
 Thanks to the dog, I was enabled to linger until Satur- 
 day, the twenty-fifth of January ; and then Time with his 
 leaden feet released me from my contract with the town 
 agent. No one before me ever lived so long in two 
 months. Methuselah might complain of the shortness of 
 life, — not I. A thousand years were crowded into the 
 period of sixty days. After the ceremony of sitting down 
 to an ideal dinner I arose to depart, left my trunk behind 
 me, took a bundle in my hand, and bade the family a most 
 cordial fai'ewcU. I was thirty-one miles from home. Most 
 fortunately the wind was in my favor, and blew a gallant 
 breeze ; otherwise I should never have reached my door- 
 stone. I was reduced to such a gossamer that Zephyr 
 would have blown me about at pleasure. As it was I made 
 rapid progress. Had a field of wheat covered the whole 
 distance, I could have skimmed over it without bending a 
 blade. But it was fearful to hear my bones clatter as I 
 ran along the road. The journey, although delightful, was 
 in one respect unpleasant ; for my incredible fleetness and 
 the large bundle in my hand rendered me so suspicious 
 that ever and anon persons cried, " Stop thief ! " Yet 
 this worried me not ; the hippogriff could not have over- 
 taken me. I saw nothing, horse or sleigh, that I did not 
 instantly overtake, and as quickly leave far behind. In- 
 deed I knew my life was in imminent danger from two 
 
SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 119 
 
 quarters ; therefore I heeded not the ventriloquist, who 
 exclaimed, at every tavern I passed, " Stop, oh, stop ! and 
 send a message to the cavern below." " No," said I, " life 
 depends on speed ; I would not stop to feast with an alder- 
 man." In truth, I was fearful if a physician should see me 
 he would seize me as a stray " anatomy ; " and to render 
 me perfectly helpless, would dislocate my arms, pin up my 
 tongue, and fasten me to the wall of his dissecting-room. 
 Had I stopped at a tavern, I might have been arrested for 
 a mummy, shut up in a lemon-box, sent to Boston, sold to 
 Greenwood, placed in the New-England Museum beside the 
 little black Egyptian, and there exhibited among a thou- 
 sand notions. 
 
 It was a quarter-past five o'clock when I reached home. 
 I opened the door ; the family were at tea ; before I could 
 make myself known, they all fled in consternation, and left 
 the tea-table and all its contents to me. There was but 
 one who ventured to examine me, and she immediately 
 recognized me and burst into tears. In a few weeks I 
 recovered my personal identity, and returned to college, 
 protesting in favor of country schoolmasters against 
 public auctions and rye coffee. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 WRITTEN DURING THE YEARS 1803-1804. 
 
 His ego gratiora dictu alia esse scio ; sed me vera pro gratis loqui, etsi 
 meum iDgenium non moueret, uecessitas cogit. — Livy, bk. iii. 68. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 These Letters were written during a residence in Lon- 
 don, and addressed to a friend in ]\rassacliusetts. The 
 writer has endeavored to blend amusement with informa- 
 tion, and has attempted to sketch botli national and indi- 
 vidual character, with occasional outlines of the state of 
 society in that interesting country. The frequent allusion 
 to the United States by way of comparison, while it adds 
 variety, he trusts will take nothing from the impartiality 
 of the work. The public will judge. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 LETTER L 
 
 London, June 19, 1802. 
 
 DEAR SIR, — I have just arrived in the land of our 
 ancestors, — a land not much less strange to me 
 than were the shores of New England to Standish, Carver, 
 Winslow, and the other adventurers. They were awfully 
 impressed with the grandeur of Nature before she yielded 
 to cultivation. I am apprehensive I shall not be less af- 
 fected with the excesses to which pride, vanity, and am- 
 bition carry those who, endeavoring to rise above, sink 
 far below, the standard of Nature. 
 
 A descendant of those ancestors arriving here, might 
 naturally ask, " What invincible prejudice, what inveterate 
 bigotry, or what pre-eminent virtue induced our forefathers 
 to leave this country for a desert ? " Thank God, their 
 posterity know how to answer the question ! Three thou- 
 sand miles and a desert they justly thought a full equiva- 
 lent for what they left behind, notwithstanding the maxims 
 of Europe followed them, but which distance in some de- 
 gree served to cleanse of their leprosy. 
 
 You may expect, agreeably to promise, from time to 
 time, a few notices of those things which I may think 
 worth presenting. Letters arc the recreation of literature, 
 and are usually written in nightgown and slippers. We 
 give our friends our looser thoughts, reserving our abilities 
 for more important occasions ; but knowing your taste, 
 
124 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 feelings, and views, I shall endeavor, so far as I am able, 
 to assume a style rather more elevated than is frequent in 
 this mode of writing, reserving the liberty of disporting at 
 intervals on the surface of things. 
 
 Men, manners, morals, politics, and literature will al- 
 ways afford a fertile field of observation. It demands the 
 hardihood of personal indifference to speak present truth, 
 though afterward the same becomes legitimate history ; 
 but at the same time, it requires the pen of Tacitus to 
 make the proper discrimination between the people of two 
 countries, or even between people of the same country, 
 especially in Europe, where even under one government 
 there are many different species of men. It would richly 
 compensate for a voyage across the Atlantic to observe this 
 singular circumstance. Indeed, I know not who can 
 travel with more advantage to himself, or to his country, 
 than a citizen of the United States, born since the Revo- 
 lution ; for the moment he arrives in Europe, the love of 
 his own country becomes his predominant passion, while 
 his mind is awakened at every step to reason, compare, 
 pity, approve, or condemn. But that which will more par- 
 ticularly engage his attention is the comparative operation 
 of the English and American Constitutions on general 
 happiness, — the only true criterion of the excellence of 
 every government. 
 
 The few observations which I shall make on the English 
 character will be rather an incidental than a definitive 
 drawing. I shall not remain here long enough to catch 
 those nice and frequently complex traits which mark na- 
 tional character, — though I suspect a sign-painter might 
 hit off John Bull as well as an artist could do.^ I do not 
 think it honest or gentlemanly to draw the character of 
 any people while riding through their country on horse- 
 
 ^ In the sequel I found myself not a little mistaken. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 125 
 
 back, or to describe a city after lodging in it one night. 
 You would not imagine that a certain traveller had passed 
 tlirough Boston, on reading that ridiculous anecdote of the 
 " house with wooden rollers." You recollect, he says the 
 people of Boston live in " moving houses " ; so that if they 
 do not like their situation or neighborhood, they move to 
 another part of the town. What a strange idea will Euro- 
 peans have of Boston after reading such a fabrication ! 
 Such a traveller is really unpardonable ; for of all the 
 senses, the sight is least likely to mislead. But travellers 
 take great liberties ; they lie boldly, and speak the truth by 
 chance,^ — not so much, perhaps, from a disposition to wan- 
 ton over Nature, as from an opinion that mankind are more 
 readily captivated with romance. One of tlie earliest and 
 most famous saints does not hesitate to assert that he 
 passed through one country, the people of which were desti- 
 tute of heads, and through another, the people of which had 
 each but one eye. The story of the Amazons had its origin, 
 possibly, from some traveller desirous of attracting attention 
 at home, or perhaps from certain smugglers who appeared 
 at the sea-side dressed in women's clothes ! 
 
 Another traveller, who has done us the honor of publish- 
 ing a volume, goes nearly the length of asserting that the 
 citizens of the United States look back with regret on their 
 separation from Great Britain. 
 
 The same traveller visited Philadelphia ; but not being 
 noticed, because not known, he left the city in disgust, and 
 charged the citizens with a lack of hospitality. As well 
 might one who had just dropped from the moon walk 
 the streets of London, and then return with a similar 
 report. Should Mr. Weld visit Philadelphia again, where 
 
 1 A mentir hardiment, et a dire la verite par hasard. — Bona venture 
 D'Argonne, under the name of Vigneul-Marville. 
 
126 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 he is now so well known, I am confident he Avould be well 
 received. 
 
 Indeed, so little is known in Europe of the people of the 
 United States, that if you would describe them, it would 
 be necessary to affirm, with no little assurance, that they 
 are as white as other people ; that they live in houses ; that 
 they boil and roast their meat ; and that they speak the 
 English language, at least as well as it is spoken in 
 Devonshire. 
 
 Lest I should be premature in my sketches, I shall adopt 
 a rule which every stranger ought to follow, until repeated 
 observation confirms first impressions ; that is, to open his 
 eyes and ears, but seal his mouth. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER IL 
 
 London', June 25. 
 
 I NEVER knew, until the present time, what a weight im- 
 presses on one who presumes to utter his opinions on an- 
 other country. I seem to 'support the responsibility of the 
 nation, and tremble while judging those in secret whose 
 grand prerogative it is to be judged in open court. That 
 is a dignified office which is licld by one who assumes to 
 sit in judgment over a whole nation, and it ought not to be 
 filled except by philosopliers ; yet most men have finished 
 their travels before they set out. 
 
 The English, like Themistocles, take to tlicmselves the 
 first place, because most foreigners allow them the second ; 
 and they imagine themselves treated with ingratitude 
 unless every stranger throws in his mite of panegyric. 
 They are hardly satisfied if you invert the defiance of the 
 poet, and praise where you can, and censure where you must. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 127 
 
 It has been the good fortune of the English to be ac- 
 cused only of those traits of character of which they boast. 
 Charge them with haughtiness, and they will tell you the 
 Romans in their best days were the haughtiest people on 
 earth. Accuse them of hardness and oppression ; they 
 will tell you, these were ever the misfortune of conquerors. 
 Tax them with an overbearing demeanor, and they will 
 seriously tell you this is a constitutional foible, owing to 
 the consciousness of personal independence. Call them 
 proud, and they will tell you it is the part of slaves to be 
 humble : freemen are always proud. 
 
 It is our misfortune to have been visited by those, who, 
 far from being philosophers,^ estimated the United States 
 agreeably to the views of Europeans ; hence they have 
 thought us two centuries behind the polish of Europe ; at 
 the same time, a William Penn or a Rousseau would pro- 
 nounce us more than four centuries nearer the great object 
 of the social compact. It is not long since a Chinese great 
 man (if you will allow the Chinese to have had a great man 
 since the days of Confucius) arrived in Boston with a con- 
 siderable suite. Being asked his opinion of Boston, he 
 very naturally replied, " It is the vilest place I have ever 
 seen, and utterly destitute of magnificence." At the same 
 time, adverting to the style of living, he added, " Why, my 
 father has three hundred servants." 
 
 This man probably went home and thanked God that he 
 was not born a citizen of the United States, and was ten 
 times more confirmed in his prejudices than when he left 
 China ; for travelling is as likely to fix native as to remove 
 foreign prejudices. When such a man as Montesquieu, 
 after having written the " Spirit of Laws," and appearing to 
 
 1 Even Brissot, I suspect, had formed his opinions of the character of 
 the citizens of the United States before he left France. Cliarmed with the 
 form of our government, he was easily led to speak too highly of the citizens. 
 
128 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 sympathize so sincerely with freemen, declares, " As Plato 
 thanked Heaven that he was born in the same age with 
 Socrates, so I thank God that I was born a subject un- 
 der that government in which I have lived," he surely 
 displays a childish weakness. It may be pardoned in a 
 Chinaman, who has nothing but the soil, and those connec- 
 tions which all people have, to attach him to his country ; 
 but Montesquieu goes near to prove that a man may think 
 and write like a freeman, and yet content himself in a state 
 of slavery. My love for my own country is founded chiefly 
 on its constitution of government. " Nee in superficie tig- 
 nisque caritas nobis patriae pendet." ^ I should prefer the 
 salubrious breezes and grateful soil of Spain to the cold 
 north winds and iron-bound soil of New England, were all 
 other things equal. "Quo me cumque [Libcrtas trahet], 
 deferor hospes."^ 
 
 I foresee I shall have to encounter many difficulties be- 
 fore I can catch John Bull ; however, I will send you all 
 the views of his person that I can collect, and you must 
 put them together as well as you can. If you sometimes 
 make a small mistake, it is no great matter, for John does 
 not always know himself. To understand the English, one 
 should be a plebeian in the morning, a gentleman in the 
 afternoon, and a nobleman at night ; otherwise, the vari- 
 ous grades of society are so fortified in peculiar habit that 
 you are in danger of mistaking honest John for a different 
 animal. 
 
 A citizen of the United States arrives here under no 
 favorable circumstances of birth or of consequence ; there- 
 fore, to gain all the advantages of travel, he must either 
 break down or leap over many of those barriers of society, 
 which, with many, are esteemed sacred. Adieu. 
 
 1 Livy, bk. v. 54. 
 
 2 Horat. Epist., bk. i. I. 15. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 129 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 London, July 9. 
 
 My attention was arrested soon after my arrival, by a 
 most humorous object, — a chariot and eight ; but to do jus- 
 tice to the horses, four of the appendages to the chariot 
 were not of their species : they were four stout men, such as 
 Hannibal would have chosen for his companions through 
 the Alps. Three of these gentlemen had their station 
 behind ; and with such a lofty air did they carry themselves, 
 with so much lace were they puffed off, and so elegantly 
 trimmed were their cocked hats, one might easily have 
 mistaken them for men of high rank, who were disposed 
 to amuse the populace, — especially as the English are 
 famous for whim. I was soon undeceived, for I observed 
 on many of the gayest carriages four supporters, or 
 holders, for the servants. 
 
 An Englishman, accustomed to see such things daily, may 
 probably have but one reflection on such an exhibition, — 
 "The owner of tliat chariot must be very rich ;" and pos- 
 sibly this is the only reflection he ought to make. "What 
 purpose can it serve to reason, when our best conclusions 
 tend only to discover a situation which we cannot remedy ? 
 Slaves ought to have but one sense, that of hearing, and 
 but one idea, that of obedience. 
 
 It is the part of a man of judgment, Rousseau some- 
 where observes, when surprised by novelty to ask its use. 
 This is natural, and is exemplified by the aborigines of 
 our own country. They wondered at the stupidity of the 
 man who rode about in a chaise, which could not be moved 
 without a horse ; but the first man on horseback whom 
 
130 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 they saw they believed to be one animal, and pronounced 
 it an excellent contrivance ; for strength, swiftness, hunt- 
 ing, and swimming, — savage attributes and faculties of 
 prime consequence, — were present in an eminent degree. 
 But had they seen these three stout men behind the 
 chariot, they would have perceived little congruity be- 
 tween them and the carriage. 
 
 I am strongly impressed that either these useless beings 
 imply a great degree of misery or a great degree of servi- 
 tude in the nation. If their situation be desirable, it pre- 
 supposes such a degree of misery that they are obliged 
 to fill the humblest oflices for bread. If they seek tliese 
 situations and fill them in preference to others, it implies 
 the loss of all sense of human dignity. These are not 
 the only evils. These drones are a tax on the industrious 
 poor ; they eat that bread for which others are suffering, 
 and raise the price of that which they do not consume. 
 However, all this is necessary in a monarchy ; the grand- 
 eur of the nobles is a part of the Constitution, and must 
 be supported,^ — in other words, poverty is a necessary 
 part of monarchy. If this evil cannot be remedied, kind 
 fortune is daily counteracting it by humbling the great 
 and exalting the humble ; otherwise Europe would soon 
 become a sad spectacle of tyrants and slaves. So true 
 is it, as Beccaria observes : " In every human society there 
 is an effort continually tending to confer on one part the 
 height of power and happiness, and to reduce the other 
 to the extreme of weakness and misery." 
 
 Thei'c are two powerful reasons why the United States 
 will not for these hundreds of years afford such a sight 
 as those chariot appendages. The proud principles of the 
 Constitution will teach the humblest to avoid the distinc- 
 tions of master and servant. The other is a more practi- 
 1 Vide Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws, bk. v. 9. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 131 
 
 cal cause, and is operating daily, — I mean the extended 
 territory of the United States. If a man be born poor, 
 he is not born to poverty ; or if born to labor, he is not 
 born to servitude. He has only to emigrate an hundred 
 or two miles, and in the course of a few years he proudly 
 looks around him and says, — " This farm is my own, and 
 my children will inherit it after me." 
 
 However, I do not wish you to believe the English 
 populace are in general so little respectable as those four 
 easy men. One could not stand two hours in the street 
 without seeing a practical application of one of the first 
 principles of the English Constitution. The chimney- 
 sweeper knows very well his standing in society ; and 
 without seeming to feel for those who think cleanliness 
 one of the conveniences of life, he wraps himself up in 
 his sooty consequence, and all who would pass by him 
 must either hazard the effect of contact or walk in the 
 mud until they are out of his reach. The porter, too, 
 though his burden should be an impediment to every one, 
 keeps the footway ; and no one presumes to request him 
 to walk in one part of the street rather than in another. 
 I am not certain that I am correct in attributing this to 
 the democratic branch of the Constitution ; I am more 
 inclined to attribute it to the common law.i The influence 
 of the democratic branch of the Constitution is too remote 
 from the people to affect them very strongly ; but that 
 part of the common law which places the person of the 
 peer and of the plebeian on an equality, being known to 
 every one, comes home to their feelings, and operates 
 most visibly on the lowest. If all people are presumed to 
 know enough of the laws of their country to be answer- 
 able for the infraction of the same, it would be singular 
 
 1 The common law is a part, and in my opinion, the best part of the 
 English Constitution. 
 
132 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 if they should be ignorant of those laws whence they 
 derive all their consequence. 
 
 Preserve the common law, and I believe the people would 
 scarcely miss the Constitution. But every good has its at- 
 tendant evil : the common law is in continual danger of 
 that terrier of Parliament, — statute law ; so that the Eng- 
 lish may one day find themselves buried under a mass of 
 statutes. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER lY. 
 
 London, August 10. 
 
 One can know nothing of this people without mixing 
 with them. They seem, most of them, to have two char- 
 acters, — one repellent, especially to strangers ; the other 
 quite accommodating and disposed to confidence, if you 
 are willing to show them a little deference. Nothing is 
 lost by this, for tliey generously disclaim that superiority 
 which is granted. 
 
 I have also discovered a remarkable desire in those who 
 affect to rank among the better sort, to pass themselves 
 off in the presence of strangers for gentlemen of fortune 
 and consequence. Last Sunday morning I visited Kens- 
 ington Garden so early that but one person was there 
 before me. We passed and repassed each other many 
 times ; but he showed no disposition to speak, or to be 
 spoken to. At length I ventured to accost him ; and to 
 whom do you think I had the honor to address myself ? 
 It appeared in the sequel that he was a member of Par- 
 liament, possessed of an immense landed property in Kent, 
 and that he had frequently been offered a pension by Mr. 
 Pitt if he would support the ministry, which offer had 
 been as frequently refused from a motive of patriotism. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 133 
 
 He said he had foreseen, and advised Mr. Pitt of the 
 termination of the war. I observed he must also have 
 known Mr. Burke. " Poor fellow," said he, " Burke lost 
 his senses a long time before he died ; he quarrelled 
 with me at last, after an intimacy of thirty years." This 
 man might possibly have been a member of Parliament, 
 notwithstanding the attrition of time had effected one 
 considerable breach in his hat and two breaches in his 
 coat. 
 
 The English are said to hold all other peoples in con- 
 tempt, — the usual fault of islanders ; and they indulge 
 a sentiment of disdain, arising from comparison rather 
 than from any other cause. I am led to the above re- 
 mark from an occurrence which lately happened to my- 
 self. In travelling to London in a stage-coach, I had 
 become so intimate with one of the passengers that just 
 before the journey was finished he politely gave me his 
 address. I told him I could not in return give him mine ; 
 for being a stranger in the country, I knew not where I 
 should take lodgings. I thought the man was suddenly 
 taken ill, so altered was his countenance in a moment. 
 "Are you not an Englishman?" he asked, with a tone 
 which partly betrayed mortification that he should have 
 made such a mistake, and partly regret that he should 
 have done me so much honor as to have taken me for 
 an Englishman. " No ; I am a citizen of the United 
 States." He seemed to say, " So much the worse," wrapped 
 himself up in a revery, and was silent the remainder of 
 the journey. 
 
 This repelling trait of character, for which the English 
 are noted, does not arise, in my opinion, entirely from 
 their disposition. In a country like this — a commercial 
 country — where the interest of each individual interferes 
 in some form or other with his neighbor's; where the 
 
134 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 people mutually thrive at one another's expense ; and 
 where even the pious, if they put up a prayer in the 
 morning for a blessing on the day, the substance of it 
 must be the overreaching of their fellows, — among such 
 there is no room for cordiality ; and when attentions are 
 proffered, the motive ought to be suspected. All will be 
 suspicious of those with whom they are unacquainted, 
 especially in such a city as this, to which rogues of all 
 descriptions resort, cither to hide their infamy or sell it 
 for a higher price. Hence the first maxim should be to 
 know nobody by whom you are not likely to profit. An 
 apostle among such a people would command no more 
 attention than a ballad singer, and Avould afford specula- 
 tion to no one but a Jew clotliesman. 
 
 How far these observations apply to our own country, 
 I leave you to judge. I believe commerce preserves the 
 same character in all countries and in all ages. The 
 merchant of Alexandria, who arrived in a time of famine 
 at Rhodes with a cargo of corn ; the bankers of Syracuse, 
 who sold Canius, the Roman knight, a farm with a fish- 
 pond in it ; the merchants of Amsterdam, who cut down 
 the cinnamon-trees in the East; the Hamburghers, who 
 betrayed Xapper Tandy ; the merchants of Liverpool, who 
 pray God not to change the color of the negroes ; and cer- 
 tain merchants of Boston, who dream of wars in Europe 
 as the greatest blessing which Providence can send, are 
 all allied to the same family. How applicable to the 
 present time is the following remark, made nearly nine- 
 teen centuries ago : " Quod si, qui proscribunt villam 
 bonam beneque ledificatam, non existimantur fefellisse, 
 etiam si ilia nee bona est, nee sedificata ratione." ^ 
 
 Thank God, the United States are rather an agricul- 
 tural than a commercial country ; otherwise, in spite of 
 
 1 Cicero De Officiis, bk. iii. 13. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 135 
 
 the Constitution, our republic would soon be lost in an 
 odious aristocracy, and what is still worse, a commercial 
 aristocracy, which experience proves to be the most inex- 
 orable and cold-blooded of all tyrannies, whose maxims are 
 founded on cautious speculation, and acted on in all the 
 varieties of monopoly, — maxims which, fortified by law, 
 strengthen the powerful at the expense of the weak. For- 
 tunately for us the citizens, lords of their farms, will have 
 interests different from the merchants, and will be for- 
 ever a check on the spirit of commerce. Were it not for 
 this last circumstance there would not be virtue suffi- 
 cient in the country to support our form of government, 
 except for a very short period. I know not if these senti- 
 ments meet yours, but from what I have already observed 
 here, I am confirmed in them. It is neither the king 
 nor the nobles nor the commons who govern England, 
 but stockjobbers, commercial companies, and monopolists. 
 Parliament is only a sort of attorney to draw up their rules 
 and regulations, and ratify them according to law. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER Y. 
 
 London, August 20. 
 
 The election of members of Parliament, for Westmin- 
 ster, recurred in July, Everything relative to this popu- 
 lar prerogative will interest a citizen of the United States ; 
 he cannot observe the hustings without a warm reverence 
 for the great original of his own freedom. The theory of 
 a popular election is a political sublimity which a demo- 
 crat cannot contemplate without rapture. It practically 
 brings society back to first principles, checks the tendency 
 
136 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 of government to usurpation, arrests the bolt of power in 
 the hands of the wicked; and though frequently perverted 
 in practice, and made to sanction its own destruction, yet 
 election keeps alive the principle and asserts the virtue of 
 at least a part of the people. 
 
 The following notices I made in Covent Garden, the 
 scene of the election. 
 
 The candidates were Mr. Fox, Admiral Lord Gardner, 
 and Mr. Graham, an auctioneer. All was quiet until the 
 candidates appeared. First came Mr. Fox. On presenting 
 himself at the front of the stage, elevated a little above 
 the heads of the spectators, a violent uproar of applause 
 commenced with, " Good morning, Charley," which scarcely 
 ceased, when Lord Gardner and Mr. Graham appeared. 
 The popular suffrage seemed to be divided between these 
 two. Fox was not opposed ; but a scattering hissing and 
 clapping, at short intervals, commenced when cither Gard- 
 ner or Graham appeared at the front of the stage. 
 
 Whether or not the people, from some cause, are weary 
 of the popular branch of their government, or whether they 
 consider an election a mere mockery, or an affair which 
 concerns only the candidates, or whether Mr. Graham was 
 not a man of sufficient weight to contest^ the election seri- 
 ously, I know not ; but certain it is, the election appeared 
 to me a sort of Bartholomew Fair, to which the people 
 came, some for amusement, some to pick pockets, and 
 some merely to increase the crowd, while the candidates 
 afforded the entertainment, which was not without humor. 
 You know the English fancy themselves free once in seven 
 years. This election brought to my mind the Roman 
 Saturnalia. During the hustings, likewise, everything is 
 taken in good part by the candidates, who court popularity, 
 
 1 The candidates have usurped the word " contest." One would imagine 
 that the people should contest an election, not the candidates. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 137 
 
 sometimes not disdaining to be carried home on the shoul- 
 ders of the people. 
 
 The candidates usually address the crowd at the close 
 of each day's poll and return their most sincere thanks for 
 the support they have received, and sometimes lay their 
 hands on their hearts, and urge their friends to come for- 
 ward the next day with redoubled ardor. Those who are 
 not in the habit of public speaking, frequently (at least it 
 was so in the present instance) authorize some friend to 
 represent them to their future constituents. 
 
 The daily state of the poll is painted in a conspicuous 
 place, to satisfy the curious. This I imagine is absolutely 
 necessary ; for John Bull would think himself imposed 
 on if not permitted every day to see how the election 
 is going. 
 
 Sometimes the electors are disposed to shake hands with 
 their representatives, one of whom, with seeming cordiality, 
 said, " Ah, Charley, it is seven years since I had the pleas- 
 ure of shaking hands with you, how have you done all that 
 time ? " " Ah," groaned another man among the crowd, 
 "it is only once in seven years that the two parties do 
 shake hands." 
 
 Lord Gardner was not so civilly received ; but he bore 
 the sarcasms of the populace with much good humor, and 
 seemed by his demeanor to be confident of his election in 
 spite of his opposers. A sailor stripped off his jacket and 
 shirt before the hustings, and asked, " Do you remember 
 when you gave me that flogging ? " At the same time an- 
 other threw a halter at Lord Gardner telling him to recol- 
 lect Governor Wall. The Admiral seemed for a moment 
 mortified at this. He said nothing, but looked a sort of 
 appeal to the spectators as if he had said, " Do I merit the 
 charge ? " All were softened in his behalf, and by their 
 murmur of applause acquitted him instantly. This ready 
 
138 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 disposition to espouse the cause of the injured, is one of 
 the finest traits of character in the plebeian English. 
 
 At the close of the poll, Mr. Fox and Lord Gardner 
 were declared elected. 1 could not readily account for 
 this ; Fox was not opposed, and yet Graham, who was in 
 Fox's interest, lost his election. Mathematically speaking, 
 one might say such a conclusion was impossible. 
 
 The election continued eight or ten days. 1 believe it 
 in the power of either candidate to extend the time at 
 pleasure. If so, there is an opening to the greatest ex- 
 cesses, for every election is not conducted with such good 
 humor as was this.^ Broken limbs, and even homicide, 
 are not unusual at some elections. How will you account 
 for it ? The citizens of the United States ought to have 
 the prerogative of suffrage much more at heart than the 
 subjects of England have, and yet at no contested election 
 in the United States was there ever a citizen killed, nor 
 did I ever hear of a broken limb. The cause must be 
 sought in the candidates and not in the people. 
 
 You will expect a description of Mr. Fox, his appearance 
 and demeanor. You wish to know how he was dressed, 
 how he stood, and how he looked. In his youth he is re- 
 ported to have been as great a fop as was Aristotle. At 
 present I will only say his appearance was altogether 
 against him. He looked as if he had been long in the 
 sea-service, and after many a storm, had retired on half 
 pay. His greasy buff waistcoat, threadbare blue coat, and 
 weather-beaten hat, gave him, in connection with his great 
 corpulency, dark complexion, and short dark hair hasten- 
 ing to gray, very much the appearance of a laid-uj) sea- 
 captain. He has the countenance of an ancient English- 
 man, but long watching has changed the complexion of 
 
 1 At the three preceding elections murder was committed. This circnm- 
 stance alone is nearly sufficient to prove there is no liberty in England. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 139 
 
 health to a dun color. He would be thought at present, 
 by one who did not know him, to be a man of noble dis- 
 position rather than a great man. When I hear him in 
 the House of Commons I will give you my opinion of this 
 great favorite of our citizens ; though why he should be 
 a favorite, I know not. He is not more a democrat than 
 Mr. Pitt, nor have his exertions benefited his country ; 
 they have only exasperated inveteracy and strengthened 
 opposition- by calling forth a ministerial energy, which not 
 only touched hard on the true principles of the Constitu- 
 tion, but too plainly proved that there was not sufficient 
 affection in the people to support a government for which, 
 if Mr. De Lolme be not a bombastic panegyrist, every Briton 
 ought to be proud to die. So that, with all his ability as 
 an orator, and all his logical deduction as a lawyer, he 
 must pass down the current of time as an -^Eschincs or 
 Hyperides, — a foil to set off Mr. Pitt, whose ascendant 
 genius has shone with a blaze sufficient to encircle his 
 own head, even amidst the ruin of his country. 
 
 For my part, 1 regard the late administration with an 
 eye less favorable to the glory of Mr. Pitt than do many 
 of our citizens. The loss of three hundred millions ster- 
 ling and the gain of ninety-five peers are trifling compared 
 with the loss, in a great measure, of that old English spirit 
 which formerly distinguished John Bull from all other be- 
 ings, and which spirit led our ancestors first to Leyden 
 and Soon after to Plymouth Rock, — an expedition which 
 might have revolted a Scotchman. The late iron-handed 
 administration, fearful of every one who was not directly 
 or indirectly a part of itself in the midst of that terror 
 which it inspired, displayed its imbecility by what it was 
 pleased to term its own inherent energy. 
 
 Who supports our Constitution ? Who supports the 
 administration of our government ? Mr. Jefferson ? No, 
 
140 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 no ; the strength of the government of the United States 
 is founded only in legitimate strength, — in popular senti- 
 ment, in popular affection. We have no personal attach- 
 ment to our presidents and governors, and ought not to 
 have ; we respect them only as constitutional statesmen. 
 Such a government might be a laughing-stock in Europe 
 — more shame to Europeans ; but this is certainly an ex- 
 perienced fact, that " those who have once been blessed 
 with a free government have never lost their freedom until 
 they were unworthy of it." They could not lose their lib- 
 erties by any accident in the train of worldly vicissitude ; 
 they would not, like the oak, be subject to the whirlwind, 
 nor like the wheat blade, to the silent mildew. Neither 
 force nor fraud ever ended in successful slavery. Force 
 and fraud can fmd nothing on which to act until the people 
 forget their original principles. Sinon in his wooden horse 
 may enter Troy, but his success depends on the situation 
 of the Trojans.^ There is no good reason for doubting 
 Cromwell's sincerity at first ; afterward he thought the 
 nation incapable of a free government and took the most 
 ready method of ascertaining the point, and was successful. 
 I never thouglit worse of Cromwell for his usurpation. He 
 was not a tyrant over those who courted his tyranny. 
 
 If the English were incapable of self-government then, 
 still less so are they at present. Bonaparte has tried the 
 same experiment with still less force, and with still greater 
 success ; fugitive from Egypt, he well knew the termination 
 of his journey, — the empty chairs of the directory. The 
 English and the French have both had an opportunity of 
 establishing an equal government. Events have proved 
 that the blood of their sovereigns was offered up to strange 
 gods. These efforts, in both cases, were worth making; 
 but they finally demonstrated' that a legitimate republic 
 
 1 When Sinon entered Troy, they were celebrating a grand rout. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 141 
 
 requires principles to which the people of both nations 
 were altogether strangers. 
 
 When the citizens of the United States become strangers 
 to these principles, they are no longer free. Should I live 
 to see that day, I should triumph in their slavery. I can- 
 not find it in my disposition to sympathize with those who, 
 having once felt the sentiment of liberty, could be rendered 
 cold to its influence. The tyrant Tiberius stands acquitted 
 before that senate who mingled tears with joy, and regret 
 with flattery.! Could John Hampden have been recalled 
 to life in the days of the second Charles, I have often 
 thought he must have expired in indignation. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 London, August 30. 
 It is somewhere observed by Dr. Johnson, that a deed 
 with all its legal solemnities is one of the severest moral 
 satires on mankind which study could invent. He need 
 not have gone far to have found subjects for many more 
 positive and direct reflections to the same purport. A deed 
 is rather a satire on the approaching than on the present 
 age, being made with a view to posterity, who, it supposes, 
 will give no more credit to the present than they are 
 obliged to do by force of law. Besides, a deed supposes 
 only a passive kind of dishonesty, which might endeavor 
 to defeat the original design by legal interpretation ; but 
 a large number of men (the city watch), in time of pro- 
 
 1 Vultuque composito, ne Iseti excessu Principis, neu tristiores primordio, 
 lacrimas, gaudium, questus, adulatione miscebaut. — Tacitus, Annals, 
 bk. i. 7. 
 
142 LETTEKS FROM LONDON. 
 
 found quiet, distributed over a city but witliin call of one 
 another, armed, some with clubs and others with blunder- 
 busses, looks very little like the extreme, or rather very 
 much like the extreme of civilization. 
 
 Most of those magnificent houses round about London, 
 which proudly retiring from the city for the benefit of air 
 and prospect, seem built as much with a view to external 
 grandeur as to domestic convenience, are so completely 
 guarded with high brick walls that you might imagine the 
 Barons' wars had not yet terminated ; for his house in a 
 double sense is the owner's castle. Nor can you look into 
 the gardens by reason of the fortifications ; though you fre- 
 quently see an elevated sign at the corner, requesting you 
 to take notice that " man-traps " are placed there. 
 
 The houses in the city, even if they have ten feet of rear 
 ground, suffer the inconvenience of darkness and confined 
 air by reason of high walls, to the tops of which broken 
 glass bottles are usually cemented, — I do not say to 
 guard against the neighbors. 
 
 The security of the house in which I reside is guaranteed 
 in the following manner : The door has a double lock, a 
 chain and two bolts, besides an alarm bell, which is care- 
 fully fixed to tlie panel every night. A watchman, if he 
 does his duty, passes by the door once in thirty minutes. 
 Another watchman is stationed in the yard and doomed 
 to perpetual imprisonment with a chain around his neck. 
 
 This wariness is perhaps as necessary in London as the 
 guarded circumspection in wording and the various for- 
 mality of executing a deed. But there is another caution, 
 though in appearance much of the same complexion, 
 which does the people infinite honor, — I refer to the Chris- 
 tian part of the community, who lock up their pew doors, 
 lest the church should be profaned by those who have no 
 right to hear the Gospel. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 143 
 
 The story which they tell of the savage, who was invited 
 to send his son to New York to be educated, might have 
 been more highly embellished at London. I know not if you 
 have met with it. The savage said he would consider of 
 the proposal, but would first see the people, and take a view 
 of the city ; and if he gave the preference to our mode of 
 life, should have no objection. On entering New York, he 
 manifested little of that surprise and admiration which 
 novelty usually produces in the ignorant. The first object 
 which attracted his notice was a negro. He had never 
 seen one before. He asked, " Who is that black person ? " 
 and was informed that he was a negro slave. The meaning 
 of the word " slave " being explained, he asked the cause of 
 his being a slave. " Why, he is black." The Indian said 
 nothing : you know it is his habit in the most serious con- 
 cerns to proceed with a coolness which looks like indiffer- 
 ence. Presently he observed a gentleman getting out of a 
 coach, with the assistance of two or three persons. This 
 arrested his attention. He asked, " Who is he ? " and was 
 told he was a very rich man who was afflicted with the 
 gout. He asked, ••' What is the gout ? " and was informed. 
 The savage said nothing, but passed on. Presently, he saw 
 a man apparently in distress enter a certain building un- 
 der the guard of another. He asked the reason of this, 
 and why the building looked so gloomy. He was told 
 it was a prison, in which both those who would not and 
 those who could not pay their debts were confined. The 
 savage said nothing. He now saw a beggar asking charity, 
 and demanded, " What makes so much difference between 
 those two men ? " The explanation of this involved most 
 of the principal relations of society. The savage paused, 
 and seemed to reflect with deep consideration. At length 
 he smote his breast, and said he would proceed no farther ; 
 nor could he be persuaded to tarry one night in the city. 
 
144 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 I have imagined the same wild man's mode of reasoning 
 had he come to London. I pass over those few particulars 
 which speak full as strongly, I think, as Dr. Johnson's 
 deed. 
 
 Had the Indian entered the city by the west end, he 
 might have seen on Hounslow Heath two of those gentle- 
 men who live and die at the public expense, suspended on 
 gibbets ; one of whom, from the appearance of the skele- 
 ton, must have been a remarkably fine fellow. He would 
 suppose these skeletons were monuments, sacred to the 
 memory of redoubted chiefs, and animating examples to 
 the rising generation, of undaunted valor, wary stratagem, 
 or Indian fortitude. The savage would naturally inquire, 
 how they encountered their death ; in what glorious, but 
 fatal struggle they fell ; what unusual exploits tlicy per- 
 formed to merit such a conspicuous station ; and what 
 enemy had the honor of conquering them ? Alas ! he 
 would be told the scene of action was Hounslow Heath, 
 the encounter memorable only in the Newgate calendar, 
 that they were thought to merit their high station in the 
 unanimous opinion of twelve men, and the famous fellow 
 who triumphed over them was one Jack Ketch. After 
 the code of English criminal law had been explained to 
 him, he would find sufficient to divert his mind until he 
 reached Hyde Park corner. 
 
 By the time the Indian arrived there he would be ren- 
 dered so tame he would not dare to reach over a hedge 
 to cut a walking-stick. "What a reflection ! that he, who 
 had been accustomed to consider the largest quarter of 
 the globe his park, all the rivers and lakes his fishery, 
 and all the forests subservient to his necessities or pleas- 
 ures ; that he, who had considered himself the centre of 
 being, and fancied the circle of creation moved with him- 
 self, should suddenly find his person in the king's high 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 145 
 
 way, and liable to be put in closer confinement if he over- 
 stepped the narrow limit of sixty or seventy feet. 
 
 To shock the man's feelings as little as possible, 1 would 
 not hurry him into the city, but would take him to St. 
 James' Park, in order to show him the decency, the order, 
 and the magnificence of a well-regulated government. But 
 even here he would ask certain questions which it might 
 be invidious to answer. The numerous houses of noble- 
 men which border the park would raise the question of 
 their origin and present support. " This man's ancestor 
 found the weak side of a weak prince, and his posterity 
 have been maintained ever since at the public expense. 
 That man's great ancestor by his abilities became so for- 
 midable to the State that it was found necessary, in order 
 to change his conduct, to quiet him with an earldom ; and 
 though Nature, through his descendants, has inflicted a 
 posthumous penance on him for perverting his abilities, 
 yet that only affects their intellects, not their dignity. 
 That house is considered one of the first in the kingdom 
 because the proprietor's ancestor, many years ago, nearly 
 ruined the nation." " But does not every age produce a 
 sufficient number of chiefs?" the savage would ask, "why 
 then the necessity of making those men chiefs who had 
 none of the requisite qualities ? " The shortest answer 
 would be that they never were made such, and that they 
 were in general nothing more than reflected greatness, 
 like the moon which he had so often seen when standing 
 on the banks of the Potomac. 
 
 On viewing the king's guards the question would occur, 
 " Is it a time of war ? " Being answered in the negative, 
 the stranger would naturally ask, " Of what use are these 
 soldiers m time of peace, and by whom are they sup- 
 ported ? " After being informed that men in Europe are 
 so depraved that their chiefs are obliged to raise armies to 
 
 10 
 
146 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 keep them in awe, ho would ask, " Are those chiefs pro- 
 vided with the means to subsist and clothe them V " The 
 answer would be, " The people themselves, to guarantee 
 their own obedient conduct, raised them and paid their 
 expenses." This would be altogether unintelligible, and 
 it would be necessary to enter into a thousand political 
 relations, which would only serve to perplex him still 
 more. 
 
 Our Indian should now be shown the Tower. After view- 
 ing the trophies and the armory, with which he would be 
 enraptured, and comparing the armor of former days with 
 the stature of men of the present time, he would ask, " For 
 what purpose was the Tower built ? " On being told, " To 
 defend the city," he would naturally inquire, " Why do 
 some of the port holes open directly on the city?" 
 
 In passing down to Wapping, he would meet a press- 
 gang which had apprehended some sailors. He would be 
 told that persons of this sort were carried on board the 
 ships to the number of eighty or an hundred thousand 
 men, and confined there for the space of four, six, or 
 eight years. He would probably ask, since the criminal 
 code had been explained to him, " What enormous crimes 
 have they committed to be thought worthy of such an 
 inhuman punishment ? " He would be told that these 
 people, so far from having committed any crime, are in 
 reality the most useful members of the commmiity, and are 
 actually esteemed the grand pillars of the empire. Here 
 the poor devil would be confounded, and might exclaim 
 in the Esquimaux or Mohawk dialect, " Credat Judaeus 
 Apella ; non Ego." 
 
 In returning from Wapping, the visitor should look into 
 the Royal Exchange. Observing the continued hum of the 
 citizens, he would ask, " Why do those people appear so 
 busy about nothing ? " and would greatly wonder on being 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 147 
 
 told that here was concentred the vital principle of the 
 nation, which diffused its influence throughout the world ; 
 that here was the heart of the empire, — but unlike the 
 human heart, which sends the current of life through the 
 body, it drew from the four quarters of the globe its own 
 support. It would then be necessary to enter into the 
 history of the East and West Indies. " But, if one half 
 of the world suffer more or less to subserve the wants of 
 this people, why have I seen so many of those you call 
 beggars ? " The national debt must now be explained, in 
 order to convince him that it was absolutely necessary 
 that one half of the nation should prey upon the other ; 
 and that for each of those whom he saw in the Exchange 
 there must be many who wanted bread. But what of 
 that ? The rich delight to see themselves surrounded by 
 the poor, because from them they gain one half of their 
 consequence. 
 
 By this time the savage would become incredulous, and 
 imagining his facility was tempted, his impatience might 
 rise to indignation. Therefore, to give him a practical 
 view of London on the body, mind, and life, he should 
 visit Heaviside's Anatomical Museum, Bedlam, and the 
 Old Bailey ; and whether he would leave the city more 
 or less a savage, I think it rather doubtful. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER YII. 
 
 London, September 11. 
 
 The English are a more civil people than our own ; at 
 least they are more disposed to street civility. I have 
 not accosted a Londoner, nor indeed any of the country 
 
148 LETTEES FROM LOXDOX. 
 
 people, -u'hose ready attention did not surprise me ; but 
 there is a perceptible difference between the civility of the 
 plebeian and of the gentleman. If you request a gentle- 
 man for any little matter of information, he may possibly 
 seem to say, " I am no guide-post," while the plebeian is 
 ready to become one. In general, however, you are sure 
 to meet with that cordiality which one owes another who 
 has placed in him so much confidence, as eventually to ex- 
 pose yourself to a degree of ill-treatment by being roughly 
 answered. A pertinent question, accompanied with a de- 
 meanor which does not assume superiority, invarial)ly 
 receives from the common people decent respect, if riot 
 disinterested courtesy. This was unexpected, as the Eng- 
 lish are usually called barbarians by foreigners. 
 
 From whatever cause this urbanity proceeds, it is cer- 
 tainly pleasing to a stranger who finds himself among a 
 million of people, nine-tenths of whom owe but little to 
 society. 
 
 Not so with our citizens ; they seem to carry the Declara- 
 tion of Independence about with them, and to regard the 
 least degree of urbanity which may possibly be construed 
 into obsequiousness, a breach of the Constitution. Stran- 
 gers are most likely to observe this ; hence their first im- 
 pressions are unfavorable. 
 
 This want of urbanity, I am inclined to think, is the 
 offspring of manners rather than of morals, and does not 
 affect the disposition. The Chinese are said to be the 
 most civil people in the world. The French, too, are more 
 noted for politeness than cordiality. I believe the cause 
 is to be sought in the form of government. It is a politi- 
 cal paradox, I allow, that people under the worst form of 
 government should even appear to have any commendable 
 qualities. Despotic governments have ever produced the 
 most pliant, accommodating, and obliging subjects ; while in 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 149 
 
 limited monarchies the people have departed from this 
 character in the degree that their monarchy has been lim- 
 ited. Democracies have ever produced the contrary char- 
 acter in the degree the democracy has approached to a 
 state of nature. We have a remarkable instance of this 
 in the anecdote recorded in Robertson's Charles V. Clovis 
 was nominally king of the Franks. His followers on a 
 certain expedition had plundered, among other things, a 
 vase belonging to a church. The bishop sent deputies to 
 Clovis to beseech him to return the sacred vessel ; and 
 Clovis, willing to restore it, requested the soldiers to per- 
 mit him to take that vase for himself before the plunder 
 was divided, when a fierce soldier stepped forth and with 
 his battle-axe broke the vase into a thousand pieces, saying, 
 " He shall have nothing which his lot does not give him." 
 
 I am still less willing to believe this spirit of subservi- 
 ence is indicative of a substantial virtue to which our 
 own citizens are strangers. A late physician has sup- 
 posed thirty-seven persons to die daily in London from 
 want of the necessaries of life ; yet London, above all 
 places, is renowned for charitable institutions and volun- 
 tary subscriptions, while the cities of the United States 
 (Charleston and New York excepted) are chiefly famous 
 in the journals of travellers for debt and credit ; for all 
 that, I am sure it would be suicide if a man should starve 
 to death in the United States. However, it is no reflection 
 on the humanity of England if many die of want. To 
 provide for all who are suffering would exhaust the bounty 
 of Providence. With us the case is different. The fer- 
 vency of many a pious Christian's charity cools before he 
 can find an opportunity of bestowing it ; and because chari- 
 ties are consequently unusual, certain superficial observers 
 have supposed there is a lack of sympathy, to excite which 
 there is no object. 
 
150 LETTEES FROM LONDON. 
 
 Europeans believe the people of the United States to 
 be pre-eminent for hospitality on account of the facility 
 of obtaining a livelihood : whereas, in fact, we ought to 
 be the least hospitable of any people. If you except the 
 single case of merchants, you will find hospitality has 
 ever flourished most where there has been the greatest 
 inequality of rank and fortune. It is a feudal, rustic 
 virtue, which the vigor of equality relaxes, and which the 
 decay of chivalry renders useless. Where there are few 
 beggars, there will be little charity ; and where there is a 
 prevalent equality of condition, there will be little hospi- 
 tality. Yet surely that town cannot be thought inhospi- 
 table through which no human being could pass with an 
 empty stomach, if he would condescend to make his wants 
 known. I do not mention this in contrast to the country 
 people of England, seven-eighths of whom are laboring 
 tenants, with the exception of those who depend on their 
 precarious labor. This circumstance — connected with the 
 state of society, which, in consequence of land monopoly 
 originating in a spirit of commerce, has rendered the con- 
 dition of the lower classes ten times worse than it was 
 under feudal institutions — must naturally raise a hedge 
 about their hearts and contract the generous affections. 
 
 I know tliat the opinion is advanced in books that our 
 distresses soften the heart and lead to commiseration ; yet 
 universal experience is to the contrary. Present distress 
 engrosses our thoughts and renders us altogether selfish ; 
 past pains we know to have been tolerable, and are in- 
 clined to despise those who do not endure them with 
 dignity. Thus Tacitus : ^ " Quippe Rufus diu manipularis, 
 deinde centurio, mox castris praefectus, antiquam duramque 
 militiam revocabat, vetus operis ac laboris, et co immitior, 
 quia toleraverat." The negroes who are made overseers 
 
 1 Annals, bk. i. 20. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 151 
 
 of plantations are said to be the most severe taskmasters. 
 Blood familiarizes to blood. Achilles, who was discovered 
 in the habit of a virgin, romping among girls at a boarding- 
 school, could after ten years' warfare please himself with 
 the sight of the dead body of the respectable Hector, 
 dragged at his chariot wheels, — "Ter circum lliacos rap- 
 taverat Ilectora muros.'" ^ In short, those who have suf- 
 fered most distress are the most ready to laugh at the 
 distresses of others ; hence old age is less than youth 
 disposed to pity. Were it not so, the people of Europe 
 would be doubly wretched ; for their circumstances, m gen 
 eral, would oblige them to contract their hand in the 
 moment of benevolence. 
 
 Principles are inculcated which, even should they operate 
 kindly, would only add to men's misery. Why instil noble 
 sentiments into the minds of those whose fixed situation 
 in life tells them noble sentiments would not be suffered 
 in persons of their condition, and would even be a barrier 
 to a livelihood ? Why teach the negro the Christian re- 
 ligion ? You only fire him with indignation, and give 
 him a weapon with which he may slay you. Why teach 
 the Jews toleration, or even common honesty, since every 
 nation, except our own, persecutes them for the glory of 
 God, and binds them down by restrictions and disabilities? 
 The practical part of the Christian religion is founded on 
 charity, sympathy, community, equality ; then how absurd 
 to teach the Christian duties one day^ which, politically, 
 must be counteracted the six following days ? In a coun- 
 try like this, where there are so many species of men, there 
 should be as many codes of morality as there are condi- 
 tions in the State. For the same moral principles imposed 
 on all operate unequally : to bind a poor man to the same 
 principles you do a rich man, is unjust. All political in- 
 
 ^ Vergil, ^ueid, bk. i. 483. 
 
152 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 stitutions, even the best, operate against the poor and in 
 favor of the rich. Law and equity guard against these 
 consequences as much as they can; still the law operates 
 chiefly for the benefit of the wealthy, and is rather a for- 
 tification to the powerful than a protection to tlie weak. 
 Fortunately for Europe, custom, prejudice, and education 
 dispose her subjects to acquiesce ; otherwise they would 
 countervail to a degree which her political systems could 
 not tolerate. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 London', September 25. 
 The English have not that esteem for the citizens of 
 the United States which might naturally be expected from 
 their mutual relations ; in truth they are partial to nobody. 
 They hate all whom they do not despise, while the latter 
 can only render hatred for contempt. Machiavel would 
 probably think it a national virtue to hate or despise all 
 other people ; but the English have improved on this, — 
 they undervalue their own fellow-subjects as much as 
 they do foreigners. A poor Scotchman, who is necessi- 
 tated to take the main road to England because Sir John 
 Sinclair has deprived him of the means of subsistence at 
 home, by converting thirty-six small farms into one in 
 order to try an experiment in raising sheep,^ is thought 
 to be very selfish if he comes to London to shun the curse 
 of Scotland. The Irishman, too, tired of sour buttermilk 
 and potatoes at home, is considered a poor vagabond 
 
 1 Since writing the above, I observe that Sir John has vindicated this 
 measure ; and the Reviewers think the vindication an able one. I hope Sir 
 John's tenants are of the same opinion. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 153 
 
 the moment he crosses the Channel in search of roast 
 beef and phim-pudding. Had the United States continued 
 under the British government we should have been the 
 most contemptible of mankind, and the English would 
 have been the first to despise us ; at present they regard 
 the United States with a sentiment far more honorable 
 than that of contempt. 
 
 It is very easy for tliese people to tell you what they do 
 not respect ; on the contrary, what they do respect is not 
 so evident. They differ wonderfully from the Scotch, in 
 one particular: A Scot is partial to his fellow-Scotchmen, 
 with very little fondness for Scotland ; an Englishman is 
 still more partial to England, with very little fondness for 
 Englishmen. One might suppose such a people must be 
 insufferably haughty, yet he would greatly mistake their 
 character. I have never seen a haughty Englishman. 
 They could not live within a mile of one another, were they 
 both proud and haughty ; but being only proud, they re- 
 spect one another, whereas it is the property of haughti- 
 ness to be arrogant. Now the English are not open to 
 this charge. He who is haughty will inevitably render 
 himself ridiculous to all who despise his airs. I do not 
 recollect an instance of having seen an Englishman ridi- 
 culous on this account. Hence, though their characters 
 are extremely angular, they are rather defensively than 
 offensively proud. 
 
 Nor are the English more vain than haughty. They 
 dress, conduct, think, as they please, and set everybody at 
 defiance. At the same time if they know you esteem them, 
 and feel conscious they have not demeaned themselves, none 
 can be more happy in possessing your good opinion. This 
 carelessness of the opinion of other people shows itself in 
 all ranks, especially the lowest. The swing of the arm, the 
 incautious step, the rolling of tlie body, tell you plainly that 
 
154 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 they care for nobody, no, not they ; but this, in part, may 
 be owing to an air of majesty which they assume, for 
 which the very lowest of tlie English are remarkable. 
 Those who are more immediately dependent on others for 
 a livelihood, have a mixed character of servility and inde- 
 pendence. They cherish the estimation of those on whom 
 they are dependent, but seem utterly regardless of the good 
 opinion of others. The middle ranks follow their own in- 
 clinations, and form their own manners. Hence they make 
 a motley picture, diversified from Quaker simplicity to an 
 appearance of studied artifice ; but this aj)pearance seldom 
 arises from affectation, — they are above that, — but rather 
 from whim. Judging at a distance, the nobility appear to 
 me to build their characters much more on the populace 
 than the populace theirs on the nobility. I am disposed to 
 believe it policy and affectation which so frequently in- 
 duce the nobility to dress more meanly than many among 
 the lower orders, — policy to conciliate ; affectation of 
 seeming to attach no consequence to their rank. The 
 king is liable to the same remark ; he has much more of 
 the external appearance of John Bull than of the Ger- 
 man, and is frequently seen not better dressed than one 
 of our farmers, with an old hat not worth sixpence. But 
 I was speaking of the nationality of this people. 
 
 It is a happy circumstance that this attachment to the 
 soil is so deeply rooted in the great mass of the English ; 
 it serves a substitute for real patriotism. The rich, in 
 every country, if they retain those sentiments for which 
 an honest man ought to blush, may be tolerably happy, 
 whether they live at Constantinople, Venice, or Madrid ; 
 but by far the greater part of every nation in Europe, 
 and that part to which 9, nation looks for support in the 
 moment of emergency, is fortunately retained under the 
 wizard spell of prejudice. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 155 
 
 I will give you one or two instances of this national 
 partiality, which have already passed under my notice. 
 
 At an ordinary the other day, I heard two politicians, 
 one friendly, the other inimical, to Mr. Pitt's administra- 
 tion, advance their different sentiments. You observe I 
 do not term one of them Whig and the other Tori/. There 
 is, I believe, no such distinction now in England. Dr. 
 Johnson was the last Tory. The one contended that " the 
 Constitution of 1692 is no longer the boast of Englishmen ; 
 that it is a mere prejudice to support longer a form of 
 government which has evaporated to theory, and which 
 cannot support itself on first principles ; " that " Mr. Pitt 
 had told the whole world, that a chancellor of the ex- 
 chequer has it in his power to guide the Parliament at 
 pleasure, whereby the democratic branch of the Constitu- 
 tion is become a dead letter." The other opposed him 
 on the grounds of expediency, popular disaffection, and 
 the latitude of ministerial prerogative. A few days after- 
 ward I observed the former gentleman at the same place, 
 and suspecting his every-day politics were assumed, urged 
 a conversation, first giving him to understand that I was 
 not a subject of his Majesty, in order to touch more nearly 
 his national pride. Otherwise it would have been impoli- 
 tic ; for the moment an Englishman discovers you to be 
 a foreigner, he assumes a different aspect, not in the least 
 conciliating. I observed, after a few minutes of discon- 
 nected conversation, that " England has, in a great meas- 
 ure, lost that proud pre-eminence which she possessed under 
 the auspices of Walpole and Chatham." " Old England," 
 he replied, " for a century past has been obliged to sup- 
 port the dignity of all Europe against the open force and 
 secret intrigue of France. The history of the last cen- 
 tury, take it all together, is as splendid as that of any 
 former ; and, though the late administration beggared the 
 
156 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 country, the honor of the nation is unsullied, its dignity 
 increased, and its spirit unbroken." " But do you think 
 an Englishman can rest his heart on the bosom of his 
 country now with as much complacency as he might have 
 done half a century past?" "Yes, sir, with much more. 
 When England is most distressed, then is she most loved." 
 " But love for our country ought to proceed from principle, 
 not from a mere attachment to its soil. Is your Constitu- 
 tion, which has extorted the admiration of your enemies, 
 as operative now as it was half a century since ? " " No 
 doubt ; for it is better understood and more nicely defined. 
 But suppose we had no Constitution at all, to what country 
 would an Englishman emigrate ? " 
 
 The other instance occurred over a pot of porter, be- 
 tween a French immigrant and a full-blooded Englishman, 
 whose pedigree probably has not been crossed since the 
 days of Canute. The Frenchman thought porter was too 
 gross for those who lead an idle life, and generally ren- 
 dered those who drink much of it, dull and stupid. This, 
 in the opinion of tbc Englishman, amounted to an attack 
 on the national character ; and calling for another pot, like 
 another Lord Peter, he endeavored to persuade the French- 
 man that in a pot of porter was contained the quintessence 
 of the best wines of every climate. The Frenchman 
 thought there was not so much vivacity in it as in cham- 
 pagne. " True," said John Bull, " there is not so much 
 evaporation^ but it has more heart.'''' 
 
 This man might not have crusaded to Jerusalem in be- 
 half of religion, but he might have been led double the 
 distance in support of barley and hops. 
 
 It is said that two beggars entered into partnership ; 
 but on counting their money it was found that one never 
 collected so much as the other. The cause of this was a 
 matter of speculation between them, especially as the one 
 
LETTERS FEOxM LONDON. 157 
 
 who collected the least had the best address. At length 
 the more successful one asked his fellow, " What terms do 
 you use in begging ? " He replied, " That depends on the 
 passengers. If they look humane, it is simply, ' God bless 
 you;' if they are hard featured, ' for God's sake.' " " Oh," 
 said the other, " that explains it ; to-morrow beg for the 
 honor of Old England." 
 
 When an Englishman was told, " The French are restor- 
 ing their navy," he observed, " I am happy to hear it." 
 Being questioned why, he answered sublimely enough, 
 " They are working for us." 
 
 Good God ! if a poor devil who has not a foot of land in 
 the island, and whose ancestors, for many generations, have 
 never owned even a cottage which might serve for a monu- 
 ment of their having been members of the social compact, 
 — I say, if such a people, who seem to be outlawed from 
 God's providence, are so fondly attached to a country 
 which affords them only an abstract and indefinite senti- 
 ment of affection, I can easily believe what is reported of 
 the Spartan women, who, when their children survived 
 the battle of Leuctra, put on mourning, while the mothers 
 of those who were slain, went in procession to the temple, 
 and returned thanks to the gods. What sort of characters 
 will the citizens of the United States display in the time 
 of national emergency, possessing as they do a practical 
 form of government which Plato dared only contemplate, 
 and which the sanguine imagination of Rousseau never 
 led him to hope for ! Adieu. 
 
158 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 London, October 15. 
 
 The following letter will be composed of a variety of 
 particulars, which may be worthy the notice of a citizen of 
 the United States. 
 
 The most humorous sight which I have seen was an Eng- 
 lish funeral, performed in the most fashionable manner ; 
 for, you must know, they perform funerals here. An un- 
 dertaker's sign exhibits these words : " Funerals per- 
 formed." The first funeral I saw was such a novelty, I 
 followed it a short distance, not knowing what it was ; 
 and as my habit is to question every one whom I think 
 can give me any information, I asked an honest fellow 
 "what the show was. He seemed a little offended, but 
 directly replied, " You may know, one day, if you do not 
 come to the gallows." This man, like Chatham, was 
 " original and unaccommodating." Observing that I was 
 surprised at his answer, and feeling perhaps a little mor- 
 tified, he asked, "Do you live in London?" I told him 
 I had just come. " Well, but people die sometimes in 
 your town." By this I disco\^red that the performance 
 was a funeral. The plumes being white (the sign of a 
 virgin) instead of black, which is the more usual color, 
 accounts for my ignorance. Had I been in Pekin, I should 
 have expected a white funeral, but was not prepared to see 
 one in London. 
 
 When a rich man dies, an undertaker, or fashionable 
 performer, is ordered, who employs equipages drawn by 
 horses, which I mistook for baggage wagons, in one of 
 which he puts the body, while several hired men, dressed 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 159 
 
 fantastically in black, walk on either side, with not more 
 unconcern than would be expected. Two men on horseback 
 precede the wagon which contains the body ; those which 
 follow display the plumes, the sight of which made me so 
 merry. The mourners follow in coaches. I never until 
 now understood that line in Young, — 
 
 " Nor ends with life, but nods in sable plumes." 
 
 Though, with due deference to Young, I think this is rather 
 man's vanity than his love of fame ; for no mortal can 
 be so weak as to expect personal fame from a pompous 
 funeral. 
 
 After having witnessed an English funeral, you would 
 not think those lines of Pope exaggerated, in which he 
 represents a dying beauty in hysterics lest she should be 
 laid out in woollen, and supposes her to call Betty, to 
 " give her cheek a little red " lest she should appear ugly 
 in her coffin. 
 
 I believe that funeral processions in New England are 
 conducted much in the same manner as they were in 
 ancient Rome. Livy says it was reported that on the 
 death of Appius Claudius, in the year of Rome 284, the 
 people assembled at his house to swell the funeral proces- 
 sion. " Et exsequias frequens celebravit." 
 
 The Jews are worthy of particular notice. I have be- 
 stowed not a little reflection on this miserable race, and 
 feel disposed to speak a word in their favor. If we con- 
 template their situation, even in England, where they are 
 less persecuted than in any other country except the 
 United States, we shall find them indirectly driven to prey 
 on the public, and compelled by their disabilities to a con- 
 tinual antagonism. Eligible to no office, incapable of 
 holding land, or even of possessing a house, with the ad- 
 ditional hardship of being despised, like the pariah class 
 
IGO LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 of India, they are absolutely proscribed from the social 
 compact, and reduced to a state worse than that of simple 
 Nature ; for in opening their eyes to their condition, they 
 find nothing on which to rest but the canopy of heaven. 
 Now, I would appeal to Tully's Offices, or even to Dr. 
 Johnson, if a man thus conditioned by force insiduously 
 legalized, ought to be honest ; and whether a man thus cir- 
 cumstanced would not have a moral right to repel hostility 
 by every means in his power. Under such restrictions can 
 a Jew be expected to philanthropize, or, in the moment of 
 benevolence, can his heart wander out of the bounds of 
 his own nation, when early sentiments have necessarily 
 been contaminated by all the arts of low commerce to 
 which his nation is reduced ? A benevolent Hebrew would 
 be a monster. Ilencc a Jew's passion cannot be reputa- 
 tion of any kind, but must be the love of money. There- 
 fore Shakspeare's imaginary Shylock is not exactly true 
 to Nature. A Jew in such a case would have accepted all 
 the money he could have extorted, and have foregone his 
 revenge. Yet tliis imaginary Shylock has prejudiced thou- 
 sands of Christians who never saw a Jew, against the 
 whole tribe of Israel ; while 'those very Christians who 
 read the story of a certain duke who demanded a large 
 sum of money from a Jew, and extorted four of his teeth 
 before the money was paid, are greatly surprised at the 
 Jew's obstinacy. In short, the Jews owe the Christians 
 nothing but hatred and revenge, whether they revert back 
 to former times or regard the present. 
 
 The operation of those disabilities and restrictions which 
 the Christian imposes on the Jew is just what ought to be 
 expected. Is a house on fire, the Jew is happy to see it ; 
 the old nails afford a speculation. Crimes, for aught he 
 cares, may multiply with impunity ; he is the last person 
 to inform. "Who ever heard of a Jew informer ? The 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 161 
 
 more thieves, the more distress, the more boundless ex- 
 travagance, the fairer the prospect ; to him, private vices 
 are public benefits. Is the nation ruined? — he has noth- 
 ing to lament, having no tie, no amor patrice, no attachment ; 
 but he is not quite ready to leave the country. A nation in 
 ruins is a Jew fair. 
 
 If the Jews were more disposed to agriculture, they 
 might find in the United States a resting place ; and not 
 withstanding their religion, they might flourish as well 
 there as at Jerusalem or on the more favorite banks of 
 the Jordan. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 LoNDOx, October 30. 
 
 I HAVE lately made a most important discovery which 
 has disclosed one of the great secrets of English rank. 
 You in the United States, knowing nothing of this, will 
 consider the following authentic history of rank a singular 
 curiosity. 
 
 They have confined the several species of man in this 
 country within such definite limits that the moment they 
 hear a knocking at their doors they can tell you whether 
 it is the knock of a servant, a postman, a milkman, a half 
 or whole gentleman, a very great gentleman, a knight, or 
 a nobleman. 
 
 A servant is bound to lift the knocker once ; should he 
 usurp a nobleman's knock he would hazard his situation. 
 A postman knocks twice, very loudly. A milkman knocks 
 once, at the same time sending forth an artificial noise, 
 not unlike the yell of an American Indian. A mere gen- 
 tleman usually knocks three times, moderately. A terrible 
 
 11 
 
162 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 fellow feels authorized to knock thrice, very loudly, gen- 
 erally adding two or three faint knocks, which seem 
 to run into each other ; but there is considerable art in 
 doing this elegantly, therefore it is not always attempted. 
 A stranger who should venture on an imitation would 
 immediately be taken for an upstart. A knight pre- 
 sumes to give a double knock ; that is, six raps, with a 
 few faint ones at the end. I have not yet learned the 
 various peculiarities which distinguish the degrees be- 
 tween the baronet and the nobleman ; but this I know 
 too well, that a nobleman, at any time of night, is al- 
 lowed to knock so long and loud that the whole neigh- 
 borhood is frequently disturbed ; and although fifty people 
 may be deprived of their night's rest, there is no redress 
 at law or at equity. Nor have I learned how long and 
 loud a prince of the blood presumes to knock, though 
 doubtless he might knock an )iour or two, by way of 
 distinction. 
 
 You may hold your sides if you please, but I assure you 
 I am perfectly serious. These people are so tenacious of 
 this prerogative that a true-blooded Englishman goes near 
 to think it a part of British liberty. Indeed, I am con- 
 vinced I could place certain Englishmen in a situation in 
 which, rather than knock at a door but once, they would 
 fight a duel every day in the week. Good heaven, how 
 would a fine gentleman appear, if obliged to knock but 
 once at the door of a fashionable lady to whose party he 
 had been invited, while, at the same moment, a numljcr of 
 his every-day friends passing by might observe the circum- 
 stance ! I cannot conceive of a more distressing occur- 
 rence. The moment he entered the room, the eyes of the 
 whole company would be turned on him. He would believe 
 liimsclf disgraced forever ; he would feel himself anni- 
 hilated, for all his imaginary consequence, without which 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 163 
 
 an Englishman feels himself to be nothing, would have 
 forsaken him. 
 
 You may imagine it a very easy matter to pass from the 
 simple rap of the servant to that of the nobleman ; but 
 let me inform you this little monosyllable stands in the 
 place of Alpine mountains, which neither vinegar ^ nor 
 valor can pass. Hercules and Theseus, those vagabond 
 but respectable bullies, who governed by personal strength 
 instead of a standing army, would have hesitated an enter> 
 prise against these raps. They have, by prescription, risen 
 nearly to the dignity of common law, of which strangers as 
 well as natives are bound to take notice. I was lately 
 placed in a pleasant position through ignorance of this. 
 Soon after my arrival, I received an invitation to dine with 
 a gentleman ; and in my economical way, with the greatest 
 simplicity, I gave one reasonable rap. After a considerable 
 time a servant opened the door, and asked me what I 
 
 wanted ! I told him Mr. . He replied, " My master 
 
 has company, but I will see if he can be spoken with." In 
 
 the mean time I was left in the entry. Presently Mr. 
 
 came, who, a little mortified, began to reprove the servant ; 
 but it appeared in the sequel he was perfectly right, for on 
 
 telling Mr. " I knocked but once," he burst into a 
 
 laugh, and said he would explain that at dinner. 
 
 Should an honest fellow, ignorant of the importance of 
 these raps, come to London in search of a place, and un- 
 fortunately knock at a gentleman's door after the manner 
 of a nobleman, it might prejudice him as much as a 
 prayer-book once prejudiced a certain person in Connec- 
 ticut. The anecdote is this : — 
 
 A young adventurer, educated Church-of-England-wise., 
 on going forth to seek his fortune, very naturally put his 
 
 ^ Hannibal is said to have employed vinegar in liis passage through the 
 Alps. 
 
164 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 prayer-book in his pocket. Wandering within the precincts 
 of Connecticut, he offered his services to a farmer, who, 
 after asking him a thousand questions, gave him employ- 
 ment ; but in the evening, the unlucky prayer-book being 
 discovered, he fairly turned the poor wight out-of-doors to 
 get a lodging where he could. You know it was said that 
 the Connecticut " Blue Laws " made it death for a priest, 
 meaning a clergyman of the Church of England, to be 
 found within that State. Thank heaven, those days are 
 passed. " God, liberty, and toleration," whether a man 
 prefers a prayer-book to the missal, or the kuran to a 
 prayer-book, or a single rap at a door to the noise of a 
 dozen. Adieu. 
 
 N. B. — You must keep this letter a profound secret, as 
 we have certain gentlemen on our side of the Atlantic who 
 would, in imitation of the noblemen here, disturb their 
 neighbors. 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 
 London, November 19. 
 
 I WAS in Rosemary Lane yesterday ; in other words, at 
 Rag Fair. The shop-keepers take the liberty of addressing 
 every one who passes, and not infrequently come into the 
 street, take you by the arm and lead you, half forcibly, 
 into their shops. Those who are most clever, that is, 
 most troublesome to passengers, are called barkers. I was 
 accosted not less than fifteen times in passing through 
 Rosemary Lane. Telling one I was in no want of old 
 clothes, " Then," said he, as though he thought I meant to 
 be witty, " you have a wardrobe to dispose of." I asked 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 165 
 
 another what he saw in my appearance which led him to 
 suspect I wanted to purchase old clothes. " Oh," said he, 
 " we don't judge by appearances here ; many a man comes 
 into Rosemary Lane to change his dress : some go away 
 better, but most, worse dressed." A third asked me to 
 walk into his shop if only to see an assortment, which 
 for variety was not to be equalled in London. Another 
 of the trade, who was standing by, observed, he was sure I 
 could not ask for an article which he could not produce. 
 After thinking a moment what would be least likely to 
 find its way from New England to Rag Fair, I asked for a 
 pair of Cape Cod trousers. " Ah," said the other, " you 
 never knew a Cape Cod man to sell his trousers." 
 
 I then asked the other, " How do you happen to know so 
 much about me ? " " Why, there is not a man in Rosemary 
 Lane who does not know that you came from New Eng- 
 land." " They must be extremely clever ^ in their way, to 
 distinguish so quickly those who speak the same language, 
 have the same complexion, and dress like you." "■ It looks 
 a little like instinct, to be sure ; but the people in this busi- 
 ness are, perhaps, the most clever of any in the world." 
 " Then the history of Rag Fair must be very entertaining, 
 and would much assist one in learning a little of low life." 
 " Why, yes, it is a great school ; the stock exchange affords 
 nothing equal to it, whether you wish to overreach your 
 fellow, or to become acquainted with the sad vicissitudes 
 to which trade is liable. Here are bankruptcies, sometimes 
 not less unexpected than those which happen at the Royal 
 Exchange ; and the bankrupt as frequently rises again in 
 sudden importance, to the surprise of the whole Fair." 
 " You must have an abundance of anecdotes respecting 
 
 1 " Clever," in New England, means honest, conscientious; but we do not 
 use the word as defined in the dictionaries Nor is it used here exactly in 
 its proper sense : a very clever fellow nobody will trust 
 
166 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 the knowing ones and the flats, of those who have triumphed 
 over simplicity, anil of those who have come to London in 
 a wagon. ^ Pray give us an instance how far a knowing 
 one is capable of outwitting a man of common caution." 
 " Why there is a story sometimes mentioned at the Fair 
 that Sir Matthew Hale, in passing through Rosemary Lane, 
 was made a prize of by a shopman, who, from Sir Matthew's 
 slovenly appearance ^ and threadbare coat, thought him a 
 good speculation. The shojjman led him by the arm up- 
 stairs into a dark room, and told him he was resolved to 
 sell him a new coat, for his was no longer decent. Sir 
 Matthew submitted to try on several coats, but insisted no 
 one would fit him, and at length was going away without 
 l)urchasing, when the clothesman said he had one more 
 which he was sure would fit him, and brought one which 
 Sir Matthew said fitted him as well as his old one ; the 
 difference between them being paid. Sir Matthew went 
 away." "Well, where is the wit of all this?" "Why, 
 Sir Matthew Avore the same coat away that he wore in." 
 " But this is an old story, and its authenticity rather doubt- 
 ful ; tell me one tliat happened lately." " I can give you 
 an instance which lately occurred within my own notice, of 
 a man who in broad daylight bought his old hat twice for 
 a new one." " How was that done ? " "A Jew went on 
 board a ship just arrived, and purchased among other 
 things an old hat ; but it being only weatherworn, he soon 
 put a new gloss on it, and within a day or two carried it 
 with several others on board the ship, and sold it to the 
 same man of whom he bought it, for it fitted him exactly. 
 Soon after, the polish wearing off, he discovered that it 
 
 ^ A wagon-load of fools is said to come to Londou every day. 
 
 2 It is hardly necessary to mention the anecdote of Sir Matthew's being 
 taken up by a press-gang and carried on board a tender, whence he was 
 obliged to write to the Secretary of the Navy before he was liberated. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 167 
 
 was the old hat. In due time the Jew went on board 
 again, and after receiving very meekly all the abuse which 
 was offered, repurchased the hat. Fortunately it had a^ 
 very broad brim ; he cut it smaller, put it into another 
 shape, gave it a new gloss, and fitted it a second time 
 on tlie same head." 
 
 Just as he finished this story a boy, in appearance not 
 more than ten years of age, passed by, with as many old 
 clothes slung over his back as he could carry. " Do you 
 see that little Jew ? " said the man ; " by the time he is 
 twenty he will be the envy of everybody. He did an ex- 
 ploit last week which will not soon be forgotten. The 
 servants of a gentleman at the west end of the town had 
 sold a quantity of their master's cast-off clothes to a cer- 
 tain Jew with whom that boy was acquainted. The pur- 
 chase coming to his knowledge, he bought them of his 
 friend, and the next morning with the clothes slung over 
 his back he proceeded to the gentleman's house, and pacing 
 
 to and fro before the door, began to bawl ' Mr. 's old 
 
 clothes to sell.' The servants, hearing their master's name 
 repeated, came to the door, and after discovering the Jew's 
 design, found it expedient to buy back the clothes at his 
 own price." " Ay, there was some wit in this ; but any 
 one in the trade might have newly glossed an old hat, or 
 cut a broad brim narrower." " No," said he, " though it 
 is very easy to overreach the same man twice, yet to de- 
 ceive him twice in the same article belongs only to Rag 
 Fair." 
 
 " Pray, do you never buy bad bargains, and do you know 
 just how long a coat has been worn ? " " Yes, we can 
 generally tell within an hour ; and not only how long 
 worn, but the style of life of the wearer. This coat was 
 an auctioneer's, who was left handed. You see, though 
 apparently a new coat, it is quite threadbare under the 
 
168 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 left arm ; when worn most at the back, that is tlie mark 
 of a gentleman ; if at the left elbow and at the right cuff, 
 of an author ; if at the shoulder, of a lounger ; if at the 
 pockets, it is a sign of a merchant, stockjobber, or attor- 
 ney." " How do you judge of small clothes ? " " We can 
 speak more positively of them. The profession is gener- 
 ally found under the hip ; and if the former owner had 
 no profession, it is easily ascertained whether he was se- 
 date or restless, whether his gait was long or short. Here 
 was a poor fellow who led a very unhappy life ; sec, his 
 breeches are worn equally on both knees, in the scat, and 
 behind, and are nearly threadbare, though they could not 
 have been worn more than three weeks. Here was one 
 who had the gout to a cruel degree." " But," said I, " can 
 you conscientiously sell these clothes for new, even if you 
 find a purchaser ? They would be sent back to Rag Fair 
 the next day." " And why," said he, " should this be the 
 only honest trade in London ? In these times a poor man 
 cannot be honest." Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 London, November 27. 
 
 The observations which I shall make in this letter will 
 necessarily be invidious ; yet as they will conduce to a 
 knowledge of the English system, I shall not withhold 
 them. 
 
 I seem to have found in this country a new religion, so 
 different is its aspect from the religion that prevails in 
 New England. Whenever religion degenerates into cere- 
 mony or becomes the crooked way of worldly ambition, it 
 begets a mocking spirit in the profane and the feeling of 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 169 
 
 indifference in the more serious. The priest who, instead 
 of supporting the Cross of Christ, thinks it sufficient to 
 wear a cross on the back of his robe, or he who in the 
 moment of a "nolo episcopari" accepts a bishopric, must ex- 
 pect to meet with that ridicule to which he is liable. " Whip 
 me " those delicate saints who have exchanged the coarse 
 garments of the apostles for the courtly dress of the Phari- 
 sees ; who, instead of challenging credit for the Gospel by 
 humility, moderation, and meekness, resort to the pen. 
 Christ never designed that his religion should be supported 
 by Aristotle's Logic or by Euclid's Elements. The Gos- 
 pel is an appeal to the heart ; its operation is on the life, 
 and its sanction is at the hour of death. All the arguments 
 which depth of research and acuteness of mind can bring, 
 weigh not against my disbelief, if he who brings them in- 
 habits a palace and gains another tithe by my conversion. 
 Yet I may be in an error. Our Saviour, you know, will at 
 his second coming be preceded by the sound of the trum- 
 pet, and will come in great glory. Now, to whom should 
 he come, if not to the heads of his church ? Consequently, 
 his reception ought to be equal to the occasion. He tells 
 you that his followers shall inherit the earth ; hence mag- 
 nificent state will bo evidence of heirship. But then Saint 
 Peter, when (as it is claimed) he delivered the key to the 
 bishop of Rome, ought to have told this, which would have 
 secured his Holiness, the college of Cardinals, and the 
 Lords Spiritual from much profane ridicule. 
 
 The Christian religion as it is maintained in England 
 might induce a stranger to believe it to be a political in- 
 stitution ; that its duties are defined by act of Parlia- 
 ment ; and that the clergy are officers paid for carrying 
 the statute into effect. No matter whether there be an 
 audience or not, the clergyman feels it his duty to perform 
 all the sacred offices ; and it is still " dearly beloved 
 
170 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 brethren," though not a dearly beloved brother be present. 
 I was lately in a church at Chcapside in which there were 
 but eleven persons, except some little charity boys who 
 sung. Most of these eleven, I suspect, were strangers like 
 myself. However, I ought to observe it was midsummer, 
 and that the parishioners were probably gone into the 
 country to take their pleasure. 
 
 The Church of England is extremely jealous of her dis- 
 sentiug brethren ; and she ought to be so. The ease, 
 pomp, and magnificence of the one suffers a silent repri- 
 mand from the comparative simplicity and assiduity of 
 the other. Ilcnce the legislature should endeavor as 
 much as possible to divest religion of its asperities, and 
 connect it with worldly pleasure. To render it a vital 
 principle, they should, observing a little decency, make it 
 consistent with and a handmaid of worldly interest. 
 Under such advantages the Church of England must 
 flourish, whatever may become of the Church of Christ. 
 
 That the legislature has i)artially adopted this plan you 
 will perceive by turning to Blackstone's Commentaries. ^ 
 He observes : " The keeping one day in the seven holy, as 
 a time of relaxation and refreshment as well as for public 
 worship, is of admirable service to a State, considered 
 merely as a civil institution. It humanizes, by the help of 
 conversation and society, the manners of the lower classes, 
 which would otherwise degenerate into a sordid ferocity and 
 savage selfishness ^ of spirit." Then he quotes the substance 
 of a statute of 1 Charles the First : " No persons shall as- 
 semble out of their own parishes for any sport whatever, 
 upon this day [Sunday], nor in their parishes shall use any 
 bull or bear baiting, interludes, plays, or other milaivful ex- 
 ercises or pastimes, on pain that every offender shall pay 
 
 1 Bk. iv. chap. iv. § 9. 
 
 2 Savages are the least selfish of all men- 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 171 
 
 three shillings and four pence to the poor. This statute 
 does not prohibit but rather impliedly allows, any innocent 
 recreation or amusement within their respective parishes, 
 even on the Lord's day, after divine service is over." 
 
 The object of this statute was, I suspect, to turn Sunday 
 into a holiday, and thereby divert the lower classes from 
 the principles of the dissenters ; especially as there is 
 no accommodation for poor people in the established 
 churches. 
 
 No wonder the Christian religion shows so fair an aspect 
 in the United States, for it does not stand there on the 
 stilts of politics. No establishment, no Thirty-nine Arti- 
 cles, no assistance from statute law, and very little legis- 
 lative interference impede its course. Indeed, Rhode 
 Island and some few other States do not mention the 
 Cliristian religion in their Constitutions. I had occasion, 
 some time since, to mention this to an English gentleman, 
 and he seriously asked if there were any churches in those 
 States ! That the Christian religion in Europe has so 
 successfully withstood the oppressions which it has under- 
 gone from its dear friends and most humble followers, 
 ought to excite the surprise of every one, and affords it, 
 in my opinion, a more respectable sanction than it receives, 
 from having resisted the all-unhinging and cool-blooded 
 Hume, the indefatigable and diversified assaults of Voltaire, 
 or the more insidious and undermining attempts of Gibbon. 
 These great men, with many others, have pecked a little 
 cement from the edifice, but have not injured the build- 
 ing; they have hurled a pebble at the citadel, but have not 
 effected a breach. 
 
 I think it well worthy of notice that the Gospel, when 
 first published, had nothing to fear but the temporal power, 
 and flourished in spite of the civil authority. Since the 
 time of Constantino it has had nothina: to fear but the 
 
172 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 temporal power of its friends, and it still flourishes not- 
 withstanding ; a fair proof that if left entirely to its own 
 influence on the heart, it is capable of going alone, and 
 stands in no need of a great cradle and Thirty-nine leading 
 strings. 
 
 In passing through Smithfield the other morning, I could 
 not cease blessing the spirit of toleration which, in favor 
 of humanity, has surpassed the most sanguine expectations 
 of the wisest men of former days. Their inferences, it 
 appears, were drawn from persecution rather than from 
 any experience of toleration. They reasoned that because 
 persecution did not harmonize the people, unlimited tolera- 
 tion^ would only induce mutual war. It has remained for 
 us to prove that it was entirely owing to the temporal 
 power that religion has exhibited such an unaccommo- 
 dating spirit. For the honor of the United States let me 
 observe that the spirit of toleration is there so transcend- 
 antly liberal that the whole of the five hundred and fifty- 
 six sects might unite in any of our cities, notwithstanding 
 New England once made the gross blunder of mistaking 
 Quakers for scapegoats and paschal lambs — so operative is 
 the Federal Constitution on a species of derangement which 
 once knew no remedy but bulls, ropes, and fagots. In New 
 England, the Christian may worship his Trinity, the deist 
 his one God, and the atheist, if he please, the fortuitous 
 concurrence of atoms. The Roman Catholic may quietly 
 enjoy his purgatory, his seven sacraments, and transub- 
 stantiation. The Mahometan may publicly assert his kuran 
 to be of greater authority than the Bible, and prove his 
 position from the pulpit of his mosque. The Persian may 
 
 1 Our country has proved the contrary ; the many religions in the United 
 States have disclosed a new and godlike trait in human character. Far 
 from embittering the dispositions of the various sects, difference of sentiment 
 excites to mutual tolerance and virtuous emulation. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 173 
 
 adore the sun, the heathen his idols, and the Indian the 
 Devil ; while the Manichean, who is not content with one 
 great First Cause, is allowed two gods. 
 
 A philosopher cannot contemplate this picture without 
 rapture ; for he is necessarily carried back to those days 
 of religious accommodation when the conquerors of the 
 world plundered the gods of their enemies, — not to de- 
 stroy them, but to give them a more respectable station at 
 Rome. What would be his surprise when informed that 
 each individual member of these five hundred and fifty-six 
 sects is eligible not only to all the subordinate offices of 
 government, but even to the Presidency ! The Federal 
 Constitution is pervaded by this spirit, but some of the 
 State governments are not quite so liberal. 
 
 The good sense of the clergy of the United States will 
 lead them to favor the most unlimited toleration ; for if 
 there ever should be an Established Church, the great body 
 of the clergy would sink in the same degree in which a 
 few of the most intriguing and ambitious were exalted. 
 This is the case in England, where thousands of poor 
 devils are bound to a system which subjects them to the 
 contempt of their co-religionists. 
 
 This letter is already sufficiently long, therefore 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 London, December 16. 
 
 At present, I have only a few observations to make ; so 
 I shall fill up this letter with any matter that occurs. 
 
 Nothing has afforded me more amusement than a certain 
 class of Emrlishmen. The class to which I refer is com- 
 
174 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 posed of those who have unexpectedly come to wealth, 
 some few of those who are earnestly in pursuit of fortune 
 and whose affairs are flourishing, but principally of those 
 who have spent their fortunes, and yet are resolved to sup- 
 port appearances. 
 
 These characters sport themselves before the public on 
 all occasions, and are as tenacious of the title of " gentle- 
 man " as though they suspected that every one was about 
 to dispute the point with them. When they appear in 
 public they do not seem to observe anybody, yet they indi- 
 rectly tell you that they themselves arc the only persons in 
 the street. Still there is a certain something in their de- 
 meanor which courts attention, as though they said, " Look 
 at me." ]klany of them appear to be in a pillory, owing to 
 the quantity of their cravats, and to the two Avings of their 
 shirt-collar, for fear of disarranging which, thoy are obliged 
 to turn their whole bodies with their heads ; hence if they 
 wish to view the whole horizon, they are obliged to make 
 several right angles. One eye, if it were fixed in their 
 foreheads, would serve these gentlemen for all })urj)oses. 
 
 Of the various expedients of raising money to which 
 Mr. Pitt lias resorted, that of laying a tax on strutting 
 would not have been the most unsuccessful. For the gen- 
 erality of the English who attach any consequence to them- 
 selves, are addicted to this affected manner of walking. 
 Some of these gentlemen, you might imagine, must meet 
 with the saddest accidents ; for they resolutely proceed 
 straight forward, in defiance of all opposition, whether 
 from wheelbarrows and posts, or from persons of their 
 own description who are approaching with an air equally 
 determined. Yet, I know not how it happens, they meet 
 with few serious misfortunes, though I have seen a col- 
 lision between two persons, when it was necessary for each, 
 before they could pass, to make an angle of forty-five 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 175 
 
 degrees. But these gentlemen are liable to another acci- 
 dent, much more serious than a flesh wound. In the rainy 
 seasons the square stones on the way-side sometimes be- 
 come loose ; and mischievous boys remove the earth from 
 under them, balance them on props, and form what they 
 inhumanly call beau traps. Now, a man who never lowers 
 his eyes is very likely to fall into these insidious snares. 
 
 Why should the generality of mankind differ so much in 
 their demeanor ? The scholar, the soldier, the sailor, and 
 some other persons have professional peculiarities ; but the 
 great body of the people in a free country ought to have 
 that ingenuous carriage which bespeaks a conscious dig- 
 nity, equally distant from insolence and servility. It is 
 scarcely expected in England that a poor man should have 
 the principle of fixed virtue ; and if one in authority ne- 
 glects the opportunity of robbing the public, that is 
 accounted a rare effort of virtue, and worthy of a monu- 
 ment ; on the other hand, if one of the lowest class should 
 by mistake, in the dark, receive a guinea instead of a 
 shilling and return it the next morning, it is matter for 
 the public papers. Carere vitio, habetur pro virtute.^ 
 
 The lowest class, both men and women, have a careless, 
 undefined, abandoned carriage, which indicates their con- 
 sciousness of being little better than outlaws from the 
 community ; yet they are far from being destitute of gen- 
 erous feelings, though in appearance they have not even 
 the outward show of humanity. 
 
 . The character of the English is more complex than that 
 of any other people in Europe. I shall in some future 
 letter take occasion to inquire into the cause of this, 
 otherwise one is in danger of knowing this people only by 
 halves. A part of their character might induce you to 
 
 1 Virtus est vitiiim fugere, et sapientia prima stultitia caruisse. — Horat. 
 Epist. i. 1,41. 
 
176 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 imagine tliem a feeble, inefficient, secondary race of men ; 
 but you would be greatly mistaken. The English are never 
 greater than on those occasions when most men would 
 despair. They are restless under uncertainty, fearful from 
 contingency, undone from anticipation ; but mark out the 
 time when, with its duration, and the place where, let the 
 sum total of what they are required to endure be precisely 
 calculated, connect these circumstances with the honor of 
 Old England, and they are equal to all occasions. They 
 submit to phantoms of their own creation, but can bear 
 real misfortune with complacency. 
 
 I have imagined, I know not with what degree of truth, 
 that the English, more than any other people, require some 
 object of attention, without which they seem to stagnate. 
 The Spaniard, if he have nothing to do, will swing in his 
 hammock until he is weary, and after that will swing him- 
 self to rest. The Dutchman will sit in a happy vacancy 
 until some vocation arouses him. The Frenchman is in no 
 hurry to force himself on an opportunity, but is ready to 
 embrace it when offered ; and in the mean time, he is con- 
 tent to give himself up to levity. Not so the Englishman ; 
 his mind preys on itself in that state of calmness which 
 to some is the moment of most perfect beatitude. That 
 happy languor which is the repose of the soul sinks his 
 heart to despondency. "Wake him to activity, agitate 
 him, arouse him even to desperation, but do not expect to 
 soothe him with the happy leisure or the monotonous pan- 
 egyric of the blessed. Otherwise, how can you account for 
 it that a man Avho from an humble situation and humbler 
 prospects should raise himself to great fortune, gaining 
 the proudest name of all his contemporaries, and display- 
 ing a readiness of expediency which in times of the utmost 
 difficulty propped, restored, and established a tottering 
 empire, should in the prime of life, after retiring with 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 177 
 
 all that wealth and honor could confer, hang himself? 
 Such a man was Robert Lord Clive. 
 
 But this is an extreme case, and ought not to be ex- 
 tended beyond an individual illustration, like that of the 
 Roman in the reign of Nero who came to a resolution to 
 starve himself, and persisted in his design notwithstanding 
 the urgent request of Nero to the contrary, with whom he 
 was on terms of intimacy ; for Nero, tender of his own 
 reputation, observed, " My enemies would attribute the 
 secret cause of my friend's death to myself." 
 
 The entire history of this people proves them to be a 
 singular compound of strength and weakness. They are 
 utterly incapable of enjoying what their valor has so fre- 
 quently accomplished, and they do not know how to exert 
 their strength for any personal advantage. If main force 
 only be requisite, they can wield the club of Theseus, and 
 like him bend the stoutest tree of the forest, but they can- 
 not, like Theseus, follow Ariadne's clew through the laby- 
 rinth. After having conquered their enemies by force of 
 arms, they have generally in their turn been conquered by 
 force of treaty. Nothing more strongly marks the do- 
 mestic character of this people than their famous conduct 
 at the close of the Revolution of 1688. Tliey had then a 
 fine opportunity of making the best possible bargain for 
 themselves with their rulers ; but by a most stupid con- 
 tract, they conveyed themselves and their posterity to the 
 House of Hanover. Mr. Burke seriondy advanced the 
 same thing, which not a little surprised the nation, who 
 for more than a century had fancied themselves free. I 
 believe it is not known in England that De Lolme, who 
 wrote without reference to party, has established the same 
 point in his essay on the Constitution of England. 
 
 Adief, 
 
 12 
 
178 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 London, Decem'ber 26. 
 
 The English who visit the United States complain of the 
 lack of attention from those who wait on them. For my 
 part I am disposed to complain, but for a very different 
 reason. I am even incommoded and not infrequently dis- 
 concerted by being so officiously attended as one is obliged 
 to be by the English servants. I had supposed, when in 
 the United States, that the lowest classes of the English 
 ought naturally to be the most insolent and unaccommo- 
 dating of all beings. Enjoying under the Constitution the 
 same degree of liberty with the higher orders, and yet in 
 fact retained eternally in a situation from which no 
 docility of nature and no impulse of ambition can redeem 
 them, they ought to possess the ferocity of the savage, 
 without his generous sentiments. 
 
 Matthew Prior is the only Englishman that I recollect 
 who ever burst the fetters of servitude and rose to emi- 
 nence. This instance is not a fair one. Prior was a vine 
 which must forever have run on the ground, had he not 
 met with a great man around whom to twine. Prior ex- 
 hibited afterward, it is true, abilities of the first order ; but 
 had he not been a poet and fond of the writings of Horace, 
 his abilities would only have rendered him a worse servant. 
 
 It was thought a wonderful occurrence that Philip York 
 should become Lord Chancellor Hardwicke ; yet Philip 
 York had in the early part of his life as great advantages 
 as the sons of noblemen usually enjoy. What would an 
 Englishman say, were he told that the speaker of the 
 House of Representatives of the United States was born in 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 179 
 
 Scotland, and not many years since sold himself for his 
 passage, and redeemed himself by manual labor ? 
 
 What do you imagine is the tie which restrains the Eng- 
 lish servants in this ready servility to their masters ? You 
 observe I use the terms servants and masters. A servant is 
 not offended if you ask him where his master is. It is but 
 a day or two since a man forty years old told me if I 
 would wait a moment his master would be at home. Pres- 
 ently a young man appeared. " That," said the servant, 
 " is my master." Should one ask a person in the United 
 States where his master is, he would doubtless meet with a 
 rough reply ; for in truth there are no such titles in the 
 United States as master and servant. I will now tell you 
 the reason why the English make such excellent servants : 
 They have three things before their eyes, — servitude for 
 life. Botany Bay, and the gallows. Servitude they most com- 
 monly esteem the least of tlie three evils ; yet even this 
 has its terrors, for if masters dismiss servants without a 
 character, they are undone. Their habits and education, 
 or rather want of education, rendering them useless, they 
 are forced to enter the lowest class of that great body of 
 men who live at the public expense. 
 
 The English complain of their servants, and think them 
 the most worthless beings on earth. So do I ; but if they 
 had to deal with the generality of our servants, they would 
 soon change their tone, or what is more likely, change 
 places with them. 
 
 Voltaire says that the vulgar in England, less than in 
 any other country in the world, fashion their manners 
 after those of the nobility. This ought to excite a smile. 
 Should one of the common people here endeavor to imitate 
 a nobleman, his impudence would either mark him for an 
 idiot or exclude him from all employment. 
 
 The servants in England are not exactly what they ought 
 
180 LETTEES FROM LONDON. 
 
 to be. "Where the fathers and sons for many generations 
 are likely to be servants during their lives, it is of great 
 consequence that they should possess as little as possible 
 the dress, manners, or feelings of men. They should be 
 bred in the most profound ignorance, and be taught from 
 their infancy to consider themselves a distinct species. 
 To impress this more deeply, they should be disfigured as 
 much as may be consistent with their usefulness ; both of 
 their ears might be spared, so might their noses. It might 
 injure their health to ])aint them, but it is a pity that a 
 dyestuff could not be invented, through which perspira- 
 tion might pass. In short, they should in all respects 
 be treated like beasts of burden, — though I hardly go so 
 far as Cato the Censor, who advises that when servants 
 are grown old and infirm they be sold. 
 
 The surprising difference which is observable between 
 the English servants and our own is not entirely owing to 
 the influence which the Federal Constitution has on the 
 character of the American servant. The English servant 
 is chained to a servitude which in many respects is little 
 removed from helotism. He has no imagination, no ambi- 
 tion : a holiday or a debauch bounds his hopes, and fully 
 gratifies his wishes. In the United States, on the contrary, 
 a servant's imagination is ever on the wing ; he calculates 
 even to a day, and that day not distant, when he shall be 
 as independent as the person whom he serves. He in- 
 dulges the most flattering prospects, feels himself already a 
 freeman, and wanders in his fancy through scenes of 
 future life, or reposes from labor in the cool of his own 
 shade. As he approaches personal independence, he ex- 
 pects deference from his master and from his fellow- 
 countrymen ; while his master, foreseeing how soon his 
 servant may be his equal, is disposed to facilitate the ap- 
 proaching equality. Hence the American servant shows 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 181 
 
 nothing of that humble, debasing demeanor which is so 
 apparent in the English servant. 
 
 I confess the majestic carriage of our servants would 
 revolt the feelings of one accustomed to travel the Bath 
 road ; for he might be in danger of starving before he 
 could learn the language of the country. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 London, Januaiy 17, 1803. 
 
 I WAS at the theatre last evening, where I saw their 
 Majesties with three of the princesses. Nunc scio quid 
 sint Rex et Regina. They all behaved with great defer- 
 ence to the spectators, and the queen in particular seemed 
 happy. We half-civilized folk in the United States can 
 form no conception of the solemn pomp, the dignified im- 
 portance and sacred reverence which accompany these 
 awful exhibitions of royalty. On such happy occasions, 
 the cold feelings of our people would look like pointed 
 disaffection. 
 
 The box in which their Majesties sat was fitted up on 
 purpose, while the trappings reminded one of the style of 
 Persian monarchs. How an English courtier would have 
 laughed on seeing the late President and his wife, without 
 a guard, without attendants, without any peculiarity to 
 distinguish them from the other citizens, take their scats 
 in the theatre at Boston ! 
 
 As soon as their Majesties appeared in the front of 
 their box a tumult of applause began, which, had it been 
 cordial, must have been really pleasing. As all this was 
 
182 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 nothing to me, I sunk into a revery, and thought of Tima- 
 goras the Athenian. After the noise was over their Majesties 
 sat down, and the favorite song "• God save great George 
 our King," ^ was sung several times by the whole j^osse 
 theatri. This completed the royal reception. When the 
 entertainments were concluded, the same solemnities fin- 
 ished the evening. 
 
 The king is a fine, healthy -looking man, and if he do 
 not die of apoplexy, " is good for fifteen or twenty years," 
 as the life insurers say. He wore a sort of half wig, so I 
 could not discover whether hard times had caused his hair 
 |ii-ematurely to turn gray. Poor man ! I could not but 
 pity him, for it is not altogether his fault that he has 
 fallen into so many bad hands. He made constant use of 
 an opera glass ; it is a royal custom, I suppose, to see 
 with artificial eyes. 
 
 If tlic countenance is indicative of the disposition, his 
 Majesty has a very good heart ; and he has more intellect 
 than you would judge from his likeness on the coin. On 
 the whole, I looked at him with a considerable degree of 
 complacency ; for though kingly government might orig- 
 inally have been elective, all hereditary government is 
 founded, directly or indirectly, on usurpation ; yet where 
 a people acquiesce, this usurpation, at least during the 
 acquiescence, receives a popular sanction. 
 
 The three princesses were to me objects of commisera- 
 tion. I viewed them as the wretched victims of political 
 expediency. " Born under the agonies of self-denial and 
 renounced desire," ^ amidst the mockery of a court they 
 endure the ])enance of a nunnery. How can that woman 
 be happy who feels herself alone in the midst of millions, 
 
 1 Not so the generous Cathmor ; he retired when his praise was sung. 
 "The voice of Fonar rose in praise of Cathmor, son of Larthon , but Cathinor 
 did not hear his praise. He lay at the roar of a stream." — Ossian, Temora. 
 
 2 Lavater's Aphorisms. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 183 
 
 not one of whom regards her more than a piece of State 
 furniture ? The heart must have some object on which to 
 repose, or it will prey on itself. The trappings of royalty, 
 the idiotic applause of thousands, and the elevation of 
 momentary pride, heightened by contrast, leave but tran- 
 sient impressions which lose their importance with every 
 recurrence. In such a miserable state there is not even 
 play for a woman's vanity, for she is above the tempta- 
 tion to be vain ; nor can she have any desire to please, 
 for a withered heart knows no pleasure. 
 
 Behind their Majesties and the princesses stood certain 
 ladies and gentlemen "in waiting." Having noticed the 
 fact that they had been standing two hours, and thinking 
 it rather singular, I asked the person who sat next to me 
 why they did not sit down. He smiled at my ignorance, 
 and told me that etiquette required them to stand. Those 
 who stood behind their Majesties were Earls. I know not 
 what may be the sentiments or feelings of Earls, but of this 
 I am sure: there is not an earldom in England which 
 could tempt me to stand two hours behind their Majesties' 
 chairs. 1 
 
 At the close of the entertainment, the royal family were 
 escorted home under a very strong guard with drawn 
 cutlasses. 
 
 After witnessing all this etiquette and solemn ceremony, 
 which certainly was well calculated to astonish weak minds, 
 I could not help reverting to our own country, and figuring 
 to myself George Washington, after his return to private 
 life, sitting as foreman of a country jury ; or, to give a 
 stronger contrast to European mummery, I might men- 
 tion the late President Adams, who, at a conflagration in 
 Philadelphia, stood two hours handing buckets of water. 
 
 1 The fact is, the gentlemen-in-waiting stand four hours, or during the 
 whole entertainment ; the ladies are relieved every two hours. 
 
184 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 Certainly, no man can contemplate with indifference the 
 chief magistrate of six millions of people — " dispari gen- 
 ere . . . alius alio more viventcs," ^ — a plebeian among 
 plebeians, and feeling more secure in the midst of his 
 fellow-citizens than if he were guarded with a legion of 
 cavalry. Would not Mr. Jefferson be mortified if Con- 
 gress should vote him a guard ? Would he not say : " I 
 never feel more secure than when surrounded by my 
 fellow-countrymen. Have I lost their confidence to the 
 degree that personal protection is thought necessary ? " 
 
 I should Kke to dwell on this subject, but it might 
 appear invidious. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 LoxDOx, January 30. 
 
 You are quite voluminous in your questions ; but they 
 are all interesting, as well to myself as to you. The most 
 important : " Whether the Constitution of the United States 
 appears at this distance more or less capable of sup}jorting 
 itself on its own inherent strength," demands an entire 
 letter ; and to satisfy you, a more labored one than I can 
 at present write. 
 
 Literature cannot be expected, at present, to flourish in 
 the L^nited States as luxuriantly as it will in a few years. 
 The useful naturally precedes the ornamental, — cottages 
 were built long before the Temple of the Muses. The 
 equality of condition in the United States, together with 
 the excellent policy of dividing estates equally among all 
 the children, obliges the citizens to become the builders of 
 their own fortunes. Either agriculture or commerce in- 
 
 1 Sallust. Cataliua, vi. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 185 
 
 sures the decencies of life to industry or enterprise ; and 
 the young man whose talents might have ranked him high 
 on the hill of science scarcely hesitates whether to prefer 
 a hahitation on the fertile banks of the Mississippi to a 
 more elevated seat on Parnassus. Hence you find many 
 more men of talent, not to say genius, than scholars. We 
 have a few passable scholars, but not one of them happens 
 to be a man of genius ; and we have many citizens of first- 
 rate ability, but none of them are scholars. The mere 
 scholar can never claim more than the merit of scholar- 
 ship. The man of genius, for the reason just stated, is 
 obliged in the early part of life to neglect his scholarship 
 for worldly pursuits ; and by the time he is in easy cir- 
 cumstances it is too late to become a scholar. 
 
 Had D., P., L., or J., preferred the society of the Muses 
 to the courts of law or the practice of physic, the banks of 
 the Thames had as frequently echoed their labors as the 
 banks of the Ohio resound with the periods of Burke, the 
 dignified narrative of Robertson, or the more stately tenor 
 of Gibbon ; while England, though she could not boast of 
 them as subjects, would assert her claim to them as 
 authors. It is really a loss to the community, that such 
 men, capable of attaining to the highest style of literature, 
 and who might have produced new truths or destroyed 
 sanctioned error, should suffer their abilities to evaporate 
 with the fleeting occurrences which give rise to their exer- 
 tions. Those whom God has endued with superior powers 
 owe it to patriotism, to their fellow-citizens, to posterity, 
 to leave behind them some monument more durable than 
 a tombstone and more interesting than " Here lies the 
 body." What though the architecture of their minds in- 
 dicates different orders ? In the collision of contending 
 principles the brightest sparks are elicited. What though 
 the world can scarcely contain the conflicting parties w^hen 
 
186 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 living? The same monument becomes their memorial 
 when dead. Rousseau and Voltaire met at last in the Pan- 
 theon ; while Butler and Milton may shake hands in West- 
 minster Abbey. Nor is the benefit to posterity less on this 
 account. The labors of Burke and Paine find a place on 
 the same shelf ; nor do the bickerings of Sallust and Cicero 
 derogate from their individual merit. Nature has wisely 
 ordained that amidst the vicissitudes of human life the 
 human mind shall partake of these vicissitudes ; other- 
 wise, if immutable principles were adopted, mankind would 
 become too deeply rooted in habit, would be rendered in- 
 capable of pursuing the expedient, and would always con- 
 flict with accident, emergency, or novel circumstance. A 
 few great moral principles are, and ever have been, ac- 
 knowledged ; but the minor morals and all those principles 
 founded in convenience, vary with time, are subject to 
 revolution, and obedient to contingency. 
 
 When the sciences shall be cultivated in the United 
 States, those branches which relate to civil polity, or to 
 speak more generally, all that which is connected with or 
 relative to man, will be treated in a manner which must 
 shock the feelings of all Europe, and oppose the principles 
 of all ages. From the Stagyrite down to the no less 
 powerful oracle of Lichfield, the legitimacy of those hoary 
 sanctions of established authority will be disputed ; while 
 the great advantage which the United States will afford 
 of appealing to facts,^ and to the successful operation of 
 principles which have hitherto been deemed impracticable 
 merely because they were never permitted an opportunity 
 of trial, will challenge respect on this side of the Atlantic, 
 and, what is all-important, will confirm our fellow-citizens 
 
 1 " Human experience," says Dr. Johnson, " which is constantly contra- 
 dicting, is the great test of truth." But in Europe, human experience has 
 never had a fair trial. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 187 
 
 iu their attachment to a Constitution which seems to em- 
 brace all possible good with least possible evil. 
 
 But you must not imagine the people of England are 
 more intelligent than the pteople of the United States. It 
 is the reverse ; there is much more useful information and 
 practical common-sense among our citizens than among 
 the generality of the English. In the United States, a 
 man's mind is early awakened to reflection and comparison. 
 He feels that he is a member of the body politic ; he takes 
 a lively interest in public affairs, and probably looks for- 
 ward to some office in his town, county, or State. Hence 
 the country people in the United States, whose occupation 
 in England would be an evidence of their profound igno- 
 rance, frequently surprise you with information which no 
 man would have been at the trouble of acquiring had he 
 not foreseen a possibility of bringing it to public view. 
 Not long since, I found a shoemaker reading De Lolme on 
 the English Constitution while his leather was soaking in 
 the tub. Taking the book into my hand, I observed that he 
 had marked the following passage, which refers to the con- 
 duct of a popular assembly in the act of legislating : — 
 
 " But as very few among them have previously considered the 
 subjects on which they are called upon to determine, very few carry 
 along with them any opinion or inclination, or at least any inclina- 
 tion of their own, and to which they are resolved to adhere. As, 
 however, it is necessary at last to come to some resolution, the 
 major part of them are determined by reasons which they would 
 blush to pay any regard to on much less serious occasions. An 
 unusual sight, a change of the ordinary place of the assembly, a 
 sudden disturbance, a rumor, are, amidst the general want of a spirit 
 of decision, the svfficiens ratio of the determination of the greatest 
 part; and from this assemblage of separate wills, thus formed 
 hastily and without reflection, a general will results, which is also 
 void of reflection." ^ 
 
 1 De Lolme on the Constitution of England, bk. ii. 5. 
 
188 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 " Why," said the shoemaker, " Mr. De Lolme attributes 
 this conduct to the Romans, and is happy to take occasion 
 from such instances to abuse the democratic form of gov- 
 ernment. Now, our government is much more popular 
 than the ancient democracies, except in the particular in- 
 stance he has mentioned, of direct legislation; and the 
 temporary resigning of which into the hands of those 
 ■whom we from time to time delegate is not in fact dis- 
 claiming the prerogative, but legislating by proxy. So De 
 Lolrae's observations do not, in this respect, apply to our 
 democratic system ; but," he added, " I am not disposed 
 to quarrel with De Lolme. He could not foresee that we 
 should spoil certain of liis positions : his work is a fme 
 panegyric and deserves a statue." 
 
 No ; the republic of letters has not become an aris- 
 tocracy in our country. Knowledge seems to follow the 
 law of inheritance, and is pretty equally distributed. Thus 
 a competent portion of learning is found in every town ; 
 and though Pope's famous couplet may be objected, — 
 
 " A little learning is a dangerous thing ; 
 Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring," 
 
 yet, like many more of his verses, they are perfect non- 
 sense. A little learning with a weak head will often be 
 less beneficial than profound ignorance ; but even in this 
 case, a little will be less dangerous than deep learning. A 
 man of common-sense is never rendered a fool by a little 
 learning. Mr. Pope owes his fame to his genius, not to 
 his education. There is not a schoolboy nowadays who 
 has not more learning than had Socrates ; yet Socrates 
 was never intoxicated with the shallow draught. A man 
 of great strength of mind is less likely to exercise his own 
 powers with great than with moderate learning. No man 
 of genius was ever fond of thumbing a dictionary. While 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 189 
 
 the learned man is breaking the nut-shell, the man of 
 genius has found the kernel. The United States, on every 
 emergency, has produced men full grown, who have ac- 
 quitted themselves with ability and propriety. 
 
 I cannot better illustrate this point than by a comparison 
 of our Congress with the British Parliament. There is a 
 reason why each should have a pre-eminence over the 
 other. The peer is born to a seat in the House of Lords ; 
 or, if created, he must like Jenkinson be great in some 
 way or other. Hence the House of Lords must be com- 
 posed of a few legislators of first-rate ability ; and even 
 the generality, by reason of education, ought to possess 
 superior minds. After all, you will find many stupid fel- 
 lows among them. However, they are not to blame ; they 
 could not help being born legislators. With respect to the 
 House of Commons the same reason partially exists. Many 
 of the members, like Pitt and Fox, were educated for the 
 House of Commons. Some few of commanding abilities 
 and popular address claim a seat in the House, no matter 
 who their fathers were ; such was Burke, and such is Sheri- 
 dan. Besides, the greatest and most dangerous or useful 
 of the commoners are often created peers, and thereby 
 keep up the ability and dignity of a body of men which 
 could otherwise scarcely support itself on a hereditary 
 principle ; for if one should look into the House of Lords 
 during the absence of all those who have been created in 
 the present reign, he might forget to take off his hat. 
 Now, the probability is that you will find in Parliament a 
 few members of first-rate powers, the generality rather 
 above mediocrity, and a certain number in respect to 
 whom it would puzzle a predestinarian to tell how they 
 came there. 
 
 In the United States, we have neither these advantages 
 nor disadvantages. The legislator is sometimes taken 
 
190 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 from the plough, sometimes from the counting-house, but 
 more frequently from the law-shop. An Englishman, I 
 know, must smile at this, and imagine that our members 
 would bring their professions with them to Congress, and 
 prove, illustrate, and embellish their arguments with sug- 
 gestions drawn from the farm-yard, tlie warehouse, or the 
 attorney's office. It is worthy of remark, however, that 
 our members of Congress have, most of them, been in busi- 
 ness, and consequently they know more of human life than 
 do the English peers ; and though they may at first be 
 deficient in forms and precedents, they are likely to bring 
 more mind to the public service. As they are considerably 
 advanced in life, and already had shown their abilities 
 before they were delegated, their former agricultural, com- 
 mercial, or legal pursuits qualify them to make the laws 
 more just and equal in their operation. " Plus poUere mul- 
 torum ingenia consiliaque." 
 
 These considerations give our members a decided superi- 
 ority over the English peers ; I mean there will be more 
 capacity in the one body than in the other, notwithstanding 
 there will ever be a few pre-eminent members in the House 
 of Lords, of recent creation. This docs not apply to the 
 House of Commons ; for though there are many rotten 
 boroughs and no little ministerial influence at elections, 
 yet this does not debar any ability from the House : for the 
 minister will naturally seek the man of greatest capacity. 
 Hence you find Windham, Laurence, Canning, and others 
 in the House, who would be very loath to be questioned 
 respecting the hustings. 
 
 The happy days which we have experienced under the 
 Constitution of the United States have scarcely offered, 
 since its adoption, two important occasions of calling forth 
 the abilities of Congress. The question of the Judiciary 
 gave rise to the most spirited and well contested debate 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 191 
 
 which was ever heard in a deliberative assembly ; while 
 the dignity and moderation with which it was conducted 
 proved the empire of reason over passion and personality. 
 Had such a question — a question which called forth the 
 whole force of political feeling in every individual of the 
 legislature — been agitated in the House of Commons, you 
 might have heard Mr. Fox pant across the Thames ; Mr. 
 Pitt would have forgotten his usual senatorial dignity ; Dr. 
 Laurence would have frothed at the mouth ; Mr. Windham, 
 forgetting the point in question, would have hurled Greek 
 from the philippics of Demosthenes at his opponents ; and 
 Mr. Erskine would have been carried out. 
 
 The members of Congress were not less surprised than 
 their fellow-citizens at this unexpected display of close 
 argument arrayed in the most brilliant eloquence. The 
 public mind was immediately convinced when Brecken- 
 ridge spoke to his motion, and supported it with force and 
 simplicity, destitute of the least appeal to popular senti- 
 ment. But when Morris arose, his wild eloquence threw 
 a mist before the eyes of every one, and served to keep in 
 agitation a question supposed to be settled. Yet Mason, 
 with a steady, piercing eye, saw through the labyrinth of 
 party-colored rhetoric, and, reverting to first principles, 
 brought back the question to its original state. These 
 great efforts in the Senate aroused all the ability of the 
 House, and called forth faculties which had either slept 
 for years or were not supposed to exist. The modest 
 Hemphill, with the simplicity of his sect, supported his 
 opinion with a dignity peculiar to himself ; while Giles 
 and Bayard, veterans in debate, knowing each other and 
 conscious of the public expectation, reserved themselves 
 to the last, and came prepared for the arduous conflict. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
192 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 LETTER XYIL 
 
 London, February 18. 
 
 A GOVERNMENT wliich owes its greatness to the vicious 
 passions, and whose stability is foundad on an artificial 
 basis, should endeavor as much as possible to substitute 
 ideal glory for real patriotism, and should call the atten- 
 tion of the people to the consideration of what their fathers 
 have been, not to what they themselves are ; for a ruined 
 country like a ruined woman may support itself for a cer- 
 tain time on the credit of its former reputation. 
 
 Fortimately for England, she has many objects to engage 
 the affections of her subjects which serve the purpose of 
 a sort of spurious jiatriotism. This bias to our country, 
 when principle is wanting, is absolutely necessary, other- 
 wise tlie people will be beggared with a standing army. 
 
 In the advantage of external attachments, England 
 stands pre-eminent over all nations. In the first place, 
 she is small in territory, in the next, she is an island. 
 Such circumstances may operate on a people without their 
 knowledge ; but England has food for her pride, which is 
 the strongest trait in her character. It is a property of 
 the human mind in its most miserable state to rest with 
 a degree of complacency cither on some object, or, if that 
 fails, on some delusion. If a nation be no longer great, 
 the people console themselves with past greatness; if no 
 longer brave, they are ready to appeal to their ancestors. 
 
 Great men, great victories, magnificent public buildings, 
 stupendous monuments, pompous equipages, nay, a long 
 line of kings and nobles, secretly operate in Europe instead 
 of a greater force, and produce a counterfeit patriotism. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 193 
 
 I say counterfeit, for most of those who are emphatically 
 styled great men have been public burdens. Great vic- 
 tories have usually originated a second war, while the first 
 originated in a spirit of plunder, or, what more frequently _ 
 happens in our days, a spirit of commerce. Magnificent 
 public buildings are a sure mark of slavery and oppression ; 
 the pyramids do no honor to Egypt. Stupendous monu- 
 ments not infrequently rise in honor of the tyrant, and at 
 the expense of slaves ; they are an incentive to false ambi- 
 tion, and perpetuate and sanction the principle to which 
 they were reared. Kings ^ and nobles are the severest libel 
 which any people can suffer ; they had their origin in the 
 weakness of mankind, at length they usurped an hereditary 
 autliority, and now have their continuance through the 
 baseness of mankind. When kings and nobles are once 
 instituted, it is their constant policy to discourage every 
 advance to former virtue. Said the late Catharine of Rus- 
 sia : " If men would listen more carefully to the dictat»?s 
 of reason and justice, they would have no occasion for us 
 or others upon thrones. I was always fond of philos- 
 ophy, and my mind has ever been altogether republican. 
 My innate love and regard for liberty, to be sure, forms a 
 strange contrast to my boundless power." ^ Good God ! 
 if these are the sentiments of a despot, a woman who 
 held twenty-four millions of slaves in chains, what ought 
 to be the feelings of freemen ! If we do not guard the 
 
 1 Monarchy doubtless originated in the infancy and weakness of society, 
 when au able, bold, and popular man was elected to protect and nnite the dis- 
 cordant interests of his own tribe or clan. Thus, though simple monarchy 
 may boast an elder origin than republics, all hereditary authority is founded 
 in usurpation, and is a continued usurpation. I might easily demonstrate this, 
 so coukl Lord Thurlow. 
 
 ^ Catharine wrote this in a letter to Zimmerman ; her letters to Diderot 
 and D'Alembert were probably in the same style. Persons like Catliarine 
 carry with them their own excuse. Those who will not be free deserve to 
 be slaves. 
 
 13 
 
194 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 sacred fire with which we arc intrusted, we shall deserve 
 to be governed by a woman, and when dead, torn from 
 our sepulchres by posterity, and have our dust scattered 
 to the winds of heaven. There is no spark in Europe at 
 which to light another torch. The chains of slavery no 
 longer clank ; restlessness no longer brightens them ; they 
 are reposing in rust. If liberty be not cherished by us, 
 she will retire beyond the Appalachian mountains ; her 
 cause in Europe is hopeless. The blood of Hampden was 
 offered in vain, and one day, soon after, rendered ineffect- 
 ual the efforts of years. The labors of Sidney ended in 
 constructive treason ; and the fair prospects of Brissot, of 
 the Rolands and others, closed in despair. It is you, my 
 countrymen, on whom all Europe is looking, most with in- 
 difference, a few with sympathy ; but her kings and nobles 
 are watching with the eagle eye of despots, to seek in your 
 miscarriage a sanction for their own principles.^ 
 
 What though we have no magnificent palaces ? Manins 
 Curius lived in a cottage. What though we have no hered- 
 itary nobility? "One family is as ancient as another." ^ 
 What though the simplicity of our temples, unindebted to 
 the chisel, command no admiration from the traveller ? 
 The pattern of humility was born in a manger. What 
 though we have no marble monuments ? The human licart 
 was once affected by a rude pile of stones bearing no other 
 inscription than " Sta viator, calcas hcroem." 
 
 But to return to the English. In addition to many natu- 
 ral and adventitious causes of attachment which are com- 
 mon to all the subjects, there are others which do not any 
 less influence those who feel themselves of some little 
 weight in the democratic branch of the Constitution. As 
 you readily perceive, this attachment to which I refer 
 
 1 C. P. Sumner's Eulogy on Washington. 
 
 2 Frederic II. Memoirs of the House of Brandenbnrg. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 195 
 
 is of a political nature. This class, if they have the 
 least knowledge of their own history, ought to feel elevated 
 in reflecting that, even in the dark ages, there was suffi- 
 cient spirit in England to give law to a king fully disposed 
 to be a tyrant ; and though in succeeding times, the people 
 bandied about by York and Lancaster, at one moment re- 
 joiced in a victory which had no popular right for its 
 object, at the next were happy to escape in a general 
 amnesty, yet under Richard the Third tliere was spirit 
 enough to overturn an usurpation in the third year, though 
 supported by first-rate abilities and heroic valor.^ If the 
 national spirit departed for a century, it returned to take 
 vengeance for three former reigns on a man who was com- 
 paratively a mild prince. But what ought to elate the 
 English people more than all this, there was found, not 
 long after, a power in the nation capable of dropping a fool, 
 of excluding his posterity, and establishing a new family 
 on the throne. This power, it must be confessed, was not 
 exerted in consequence of the sovereignty ^ of the people 
 of England ; yet its exertion under any circumstances shows 
 the difference between this people and the monotonous 
 history of other nations, where, if " by the grace of God " 
 they are afflicted with a tyrant or a fool, he is feared as a 
 demon, or worship{)ed as a sage. All these historical 
 traits have their influence ; for an Englishman discovers 
 that there is a power residing somewhere in the nation 
 capable of creating all things anew. Hence the class of 
 
 1 I know not why the character of Richard the Third should be treated 
 with peculiar severity. There is little or nothing with which to reproach 
 him after he came to the throne. The tyranny of Richard never reached 
 the people ; and he was less a villain in order to acquire a crown, than were 
 some of his successors after they had obtained one. 
 
 2 In Europe, it looks like affectation or irony to say " the sovereign 
 people." It is so. But nothing was more usual at Rome than for the orators 
 to style a popular assembly the sovereign people, — " ut imperium po]iuli Ro- 
 mani majestasque conservaretur." (Cic. pro Eabirio Perduelliouis Reo.) 
 
196 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 Englishmen to whom I refer at present, cannot but feel a 
 proud pre-eminence in comparing themselves with their 
 neighbors. Doubtless the extorting of Magna Charta from 
 King John, the beheading of Charles the First, the dismis- 
 sion of James the Second, and the establishment of a new 
 monarchy, are the finest portions of English history. A 
 nation which knows how thus either to reduce to reason, 
 dismiss forever, or speak in thunder to their ill-disposed 
 or incorrigible rulers cannot for a long time endure either 
 the stork, the serpent, or the tyranny of ministers under a 
 liarmless King Log, though there may not be sufficient 
 virtue in the nation to establish a legitimate government. 
 For the English are not yet quite like the Ottomans ; nor 
 is their empire quite like the Ottoman, — weak in propor- 
 tion to its wide extended territory, and poor in proportion 
 to its natural fertility. 
 
 If the common peojile and tlic humblest of that class 
 who are allowed the privilege of voting feel a reflected 
 consequence in viewing their country, the gentry and 
 nobility must naturally be the best patriots in the world, 
 since the latter rise with the prosperity of their country, 
 though they suffer little in its distress. Indeed, the nobil- 
 ity in all nations have exhibited as much love for their 
 country as the leech feels for a plethora. 
 
 I confess, if my country had experienced the various 
 revolutions and modifications which England has under- 
 gone, and the people in every contest with royal authority 
 had added to their own prerogative, it would be matter of 
 proud contemplation. But our country has done more ; 
 instead of amending and modifying an indefinite and un- 
 intelligible Constitution, and advancing and retreating in 
 the maze of politics, she has, by one great effort, brought 
 back the social compact to its first principles, restored a 
 small portion of humanity to its original respectability, and 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 197 
 
 left their posterity a form of government which merits to 
 be hated by kings and nobles. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 London, March 7. 
 
 You inquire respecting the climate of England. That 
 climate must be salubrious which has produced so many 
 great men ; yet I would not seem to attach too much to 
 this circumstance, for the most congenial climates do not 
 constantly produce the greatest men. It is reported in 
 history that the Dutch were once generous and noble, that 
 the Spaniards were once brave, and Livy is either erro- 
 neous or too much given to irony, if Italy did not at one 
 time produce men. 
 
 If the English have a single prejudice, it is certainly 
 not in favor of their climate. Their caricaturists, who for 
 broad humor are unrivalled, hit off John Bull in a cloudy 
 day with great success. The weather here is of such pub- 
 lic concern that not infrequently it is a subject of comment 
 in the newspapers. There are perhaps more weathercocks 
 in London than in all the world besides ; though it ought to 
 be considered that London is the seat of government. 
 
 Among the various modes of insurance which the wit of 
 man has invented, I am not a little surprised that no one 
 has ever opened an office for the insurance of fair weather. 
 All those who are in pursuit of pleasure or business ; all 
 who have delicate constitutions, and are liable to suf- 
 fer from the wind being a point or half a point variant 
 from their favorite quarter ; all who are incommoded on 
 journeys, — might be compensated in money for mental 
 
198 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 or corporal inconvenience. This may appear rather ri- 
 diculous at first siglit ; but it is only an improvement on 
 marine insurance, and is much more rational than insur- 
 ance on lives. I have no doubt the lawyers will improve 
 this hint : it would afford rare sport at Westminster and 
 Guildhall. All the dull rogues in town would insure ; for 
 the author who wrote on a dull day would recover special 
 damages if his book did not sell. All the ladies at the 
 west end of the town would insure, though I know not 
 what damages would be given for an unsuccessful rout. 
 All those who frequent places of public amusement, as 
 well as the proprietors of such places, would insure ; the 
 one for lack of pleasure, the other for disappointment 
 in money receipts. 
 
 If many of the English have degenerated into a mongrel 
 sort ; if the mane of tlie lion lias given place to more car ; 
 if a thousand nervous affections have turned the men into 
 women without the spirit of women, I am not disposed to 
 attribute it to the climate, which is now as good as when 
 Boadicea led the van of hor countrymen. Let us, for a 
 moment, consider what effects the climate of England pro- 
 duces, and then we can judge whether or not it be insalu- 
 brious. Where neither the excess of pleasure nor the 
 excess of labor emaciates, the English, both men and 
 women are exceedingly handsome. Their round, ruddy 
 countenances bespeak a mellow temperature of weather 
 which neither relaxes nor contracts. Surely, the climate 
 of that country must be good which produces brave men 
 and handsome women ; and I think those gloomy affections 
 to which so many of the English are subject, ought not to 
 be imputed to the climate. Man must first be degenerate 
 before a west wind ^ or a cloudy day can reduce him 
 to despondency. 
 
 1 In England it is the west wind which brings hanging weather. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 199 
 
 " By chase our long-liv'd fathers earn'd their food; 
 Toil strung the nerves and purified the blood; 
 But we, their sons, a pamper'd race of men, 
 Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten." ^ 
 
 This is doubtless mere poetry. The English are more 
 laborious now than if they were hunters ; and as for their 
 being dwindled down to seventy years, I think it rather a 
 bull. The English live as long and bear their age as well, 
 I believe, as any people. My washerwoman tells me she 
 knows more than half a dozen women in her neighborhood 
 between the ages of sixty-seven and seventy-five who gain 
 their livelihood at the washing-tub. I do not know that 
 the English live longer or retain their faculties to a later 
 period than the New Englanders do ; but the inroad of 
 years does not make so early nor so deep an impression on 
 their faces. The climate is so temperate, both in summer 
 and winter, that I have not experienced what I consider a 
 warm or a cold day. Hence the pores of the body are 
 not so frequently open in summer, nor so continually con- 
 tracted in winter. When I say the English bear their age 
 better tlian our people, I am supposing that they lead 
 similar lives. In New England you rarely see the emaci- 
 ated, the deformed, the rickety, or the deficient ; in Eng- 
 land, you meet with them at every step. I have seen 
 thousands of these miserable creatures, to whom it would 
 have been an act of mercy to have extended a certain 
 wise law of Sparta. 
 
 Whether or not the women bear their years better than 
 ours do, I am not certain, they are so very loath to tell 
 their ages ; but of this I am sure, — the dress, carriage, 
 and conversation of the English women are at least ten 
 years in their favor. The contrast is remarkable. A 
 young woman in this country is willing to be sociable, and 
 
 1 Dryden, Epistle xiii. 
 
200 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 seems disposed to render herself pleasing, rather than an 
 object of indifference. In the United States, on the con- 
 trary, a young woman is too ready to imagine she has done 
 wrong, and frequently checks herself, and betrays a degree 
 of guilt, when she discovers that she has unwittingly done 
 herself justice. The manners of the one render her 
 younger in appearance than she is ; the manners of the 
 other make her seem older. 
 
 There is one description of Englishmen on whom the 
 climate must operate very unhappily. I mean the country 
 gentlemen, who, residing most of their time on their 
 estates, and not having a taste for either the elegant or 
 the more laborious pursuits of agriculture, or, what is still 
 more unhappy, cold to the charms of literature, spend their 
 days insulated within their own barren selves, and instead 
 of giving their days to " negotiura cum dignitate," sacrifice 
 their lives to a false '" otium cum dignitate." To such, a 
 gloomy day is the harbinger of their evil genius. The 
 sombre appearance of their aged mansions, and the 
 solemn aspect of the scene around render their solitude 
 awful, and recall the most depressing recollections. The 
 spectres of their ancestors come in the clouds and haunt 
 the halls of their former residence ; while the sullen still- 
 ness of the trees helps to turn the mind upon itself, which 
 to most men is, of all ills, the most insupportable. The 
 country gentlemen feel that they are the centre of a scene 
 from which they cannot fly ; past pleasures are now con- 
 verted into present pain, while the present moment, in 
 imagination, is to last forever. 
 
 Such of the English people as know how to think, think 
 as much as or more than any other people ; yet those 
 who think most do not always think most happily. Some 
 persons at the end of a revery find themselves in the 
 slough of sensuality ; others think only to get rid of them- 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 201 
 
 selves, while some bring themselves to the sad conclusion 
 that it would be madness in them to be happy. The English, 
 I believe, think less happily than any other people. They 
 scarcely affect happiness to hide their misery. Montes- 
 quieu, you recollect, attributes this to their form of govern- 
 ment, rather than to their climate. This merits attention. 
 I will never admit that a free people ^ (so Montesquieu 
 termed the English) are less happy than a tyrant could 
 render them ; but I can easily believe that a people feeling 
 their incapacity to enjoy those rights which their consti- 
 tution of government guarantees, will be unhappy in pro- 
 portion to their sensibility, while the frequent changes 
 of weather will give a sad cast to their dispositions. The 
 great body of every people are secure from the violent pas- 
 sions. A free people are less secure, indeed, but their 
 jealousy, sensibility, and transient violence are rather a 
 proof of their happiness ; for their passions are never 
 excited except when they imagine they are about to lose 
 either a part or the whole of that which Montesquieu 
 thinks is the chief cause of their misery. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 London, March 23. 
 
 The character of the English, I have more than once 
 observed, is a singular mixture of dignity and servility. 
 The more I see of this people the more am I struck with 
 these opposite traits. Here are few men who have not two 
 characters which they put off and resume at pleasure. 
 The moment a man is addressed, he either disciplines 
 
 ^ Whenever I call the English /ree, I mean comparative freedom. 
 
202 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 himself to a demeanor of inferiority or assumes an air of 
 importance suitable to the opinion he thinks is entertained 
 of his presence. Of all characters that is least respectable 
 which is now the lion and presently the sheep. I have 
 seen at a coffee-house a man who, in the pride of his im- 
 portance challenging the whole conversation and enjoying 
 that pre-eminence which was tacitly allowed, sank suddenly 
 into silence the moment another person entered the room. 
 
 They tell a pleasant story of an European who was in- 
 troduced to an Indian chief. You know the American 
 savages are celebrated for their unreserved deportment in 
 presence of those whom the world call great. The Euro- 
 pean, with an inherent servility, fell on his knees, and by 
 his interpreter addressed his savage majesty to the follow- 
 ing effect : " Most powerful chief, who boldest in thy hands 
 the destinies of the four corners of the earth, the fame of 
 thy valor has encircled both hemispheres ! Accept the 
 homage of the white man who has come from tlie other 
 side of the great water to behold the Little Toad-Eater." 
 Neither the chief nor his companions smiled, — that might 
 have discomposed the white man. Neither did the chief 
 know how to reply ; but, suspecting from the white man's 
 posture that he was quite exhausted, with true civility 
 asked him if he wished for anything to eat. The interpreter 
 replied that they had just eaten and drunk abundantly. 
 This perplexed the chief and his companions, who won- 
 dered why the white man preferred to continue on his 
 knees. At length the white man, thinking it a great 
 breach of politeness to be left in such a situation, asked, 
 " How long shall I continue on my knees ? " The chief re- 
 plied, " As long as you please." This was natural ; the 
 child of Nature being ignorant of the reason why the man 
 had knelt, knew no reason why he should not rise at one 
 time as well as at another. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 203 
 
 Not a little of the national character may be discovered 
 at the courts of law. The examination of witnesses in 
 the frequently tedious tragi-comedy of law is a great relief 
 to the judges, to the lawyers, and to the jury. A poor man 
 comes into court with a presentiment of being subjected 
 to abuse and insult. The counsellor frequently inquires 
 of the witness his occupation, his mode of life, and his 
 circumstances, with a view to ridicule him. Cowardly 
 conduct to abuse a defenceless man from behind a chief- 
 justice, and under the covert of law ! A man of fortune is 
 treated very differently ; and if anything offensive should 
 escape the counsel, there is immediate room made for an 
 apology which more than satisfies the delicate feelings of 
 the witness. I know that witnesses often give their evi- 
 dence in a manner which lays them open to fair criticism ; 
 but if this sometimes happen, it is not a sufficient reason 
 for abusing an honest man. Should our citizens receive 
 such treatment in our courts as the poorer class of English 
 suffer at Westminster and Guildhall, they would first call 
 upon the judge to protect them ; and if not protected, they 
 would protect themselves. Here an innocent man is 
 obliged to suffer in cross-examination the meditated bru- 
 tality of a secure attack, while the judge stands ready 
 to commit the witness to Newgate if he dare to assert 
 his dignity. 
 
 I am daily more and more surprised at the difference 
 between the English as a nation and as individuals. They 
 themselves seem conscious of the difference. Individuals 
 are more ready to resent national than personal attacks. 
 The man who will sit patiently and hear his neighbors 
 abused, instantly shows a spirit of opposition if it be ques- 
 tioned whether the English were free under Queen Eliza- 
 beth. It is the part of most men to take little care of 
 their private, so long as their public character stands fair. 
 
204 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 Dan Prior, after spending part of the evening with Pope, 
 Swift, and Oxford, would close it over a pot of porter in 
 Long Acre, with a soldier and his wife. 
 
 If the English think they have no circumstantial, pre- 
 scriptive right to assume superiority, they readily acquiesce 
 in inferiority, and still assume as much as they dare. Not 
 so our citizens ; they attach voluntary respect to merit, 
 but do not allow even superiority to assume anything. 
 
 I am happy to record the following anecdote, as it illus- 
 trates a rare species of magnanimity. I was lately in com- 
 ])any with some of those hapj)y mortals, who, having 
 already enjoyed a competency of fame, are now reposing 
 under their own statues. They were speaking of vulgar 
 prejudices. One of them said he had been stoned several 
 times in passing through a certain country village, be- 
 cause his hair naturally curled. I asked him how long 
 since this happened ; he replied, " About thirty years since, 
 when I was a journeyman shoemaker." 
 
 I cannot better illustrate the subject of the present letter 
 than by quoting the following famous speech of Beckford 
 to George the Third. This speech is inscribed on Beck- 
 ford's monument in Guildhall, in large, fair characters. 
 It is supposed to do the city of London great honor. There 
 certainly is in the last paragraph a wonderful degree of 
 dignity for a Lord Mayor ; but the Asiatic style of the 
 rest of the speech will be received in the United States 
 for sarcastic raillery : — 
 
 "Most Gracious Sovereign, — Will your Majesty be 
 pleased so far to condescend as to permit the Mayor of 
 your loyal city of London to declare in your royal presence, 
 on behalf of his fellow-citizens, how much the bare appre- 
 hension of your Majesty's displeasure would, at all times, 
 affect their minds ; the declaration of that displeasure has 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 205 
 
 already filled them with inexpressible anxiety, and with 
 the deepest affliction. Permit me, sire, to assure your 
 Majesty, that your Majesty has not in all your dominions 
 any subjects more faithful, more dutiful, or more affec- 
 tionate to your Majesty's person and family, or more 
 ready to sacrifice their lives and fortunes to the main- 
 tenance of the true honor and dignity of your crown. 
 
 " We do, therefore, with the greatest humility and sub- 
 mission, most earnestly supplicate your Majesty that you 
 will not dismiss us from your presence without expressing 
 a more favorable opinion of your faithful citizens, and with- 
 out some comfort, without some prospect at least of re- 
 dress. 
 
 " Permit me, sire, further to observe, that whoever has 
 already dared, or shall hereafter endeavor by false insinu- 
 ations and suggestions to alienate your Majesty's affections 
 from your loyal subjects in general, and from the city of 
 London in particular, and to withdraw your confidence in 
 and regard for your people, is an enemy to your Majesty's 
 person and family, a violator of the public peace, and a 
 l)etrayer of our happy Constitution as it was established 
 at the glorious revolution." 
 
 Thus ended this famous speech ; but his hard-hearted 
 Majesty scarcely sat long enough to hear the supplications 
 of his poor, disconsolate subjects. Beckford was dismissed 
 without comfort and without redress. Alas, broken- 
 hearted citizens of London ! 
 
 But I challenge all the archives of Asia to match the 
 following: "The Lords spiritual and temporal, and Com- 
 mons do, in the name of all the people of England, most 
 humbly and faithfully submit themselves, their heirs and 
 posterity forever," etc. I am sick of such stuff. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
206 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 London, March 28. 
 
 Had Theophrastus made a voyage to Britain, he might 
 have embellished his treatise, " De Lapidibus," with num- 
 berless " lusi naturiE." That Spartan was no doubt a wag 
 who asked the Athenian whether trees grew square in his 
 country. I know not why trees in Athens should not have 
 been square as well as that the quarries in England should 
 produce stones of all dimensions, some in the form of 
 cylinders, others square, and some round. Nor is this all; 
 stones not only grow in these convenient geometrical fig- 
 ures, but grow as smooth as the hand of art could polish 
 them ; and not a few of them seem to be fluted, as though 
 a chisel had l)een employed, particularly those in the form of 
 cylinders. Among all the curiosities in the British Museum, 
 I saw not one of these natural productions, — a striking 
 instance how little mankind regard the greatest miracles 
 of Nature which are within the observation of everybody. 
 Should one of these fluted columns be discovered in New 
 England, every man would turn antiquary ; yet I should be 
 sorry to see any of these fluted columns in our country, 
 for our citizens would be so pleased with them that they 
 might endeavor to force our quarries to conform to those 
 of England, and that would be an endless undertaking. 
 
 With these ready-made materials, it is no wonder that 
 many of their public buildings are built on a magnificent 
 scale. St. Paul's is one grand, entire, vast edifice, which 
 does great honor to the Saint, and argues no little piety in 
 the nation. Where so much money is made by religion, 
 it would look like ingratitude not to show some little 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 207 
 
 external respect to its founders ; yet St. Paul's is rather a 
 niggardly building for a people who have sported away so 
 much money. St. Paul's cost only £1,500,000 sterling. 
 Comparing the value of money at the time it was built 
 with the present value of money, we may suppose it cost 
 £3,500,000 ; a trifle which could never have been missed 
 from the treasury, and which might have been reimbursed 
 to the nation in exchequer bills in two days. 
 
 The front of St. Martin's, its bold design, its majestic 
 pillars, its elevated ground-work, rising so gradually that 
 the eye commands it without an effort, its weighty pedes- 
 tals and spacious portico frequently delay the stranger until 
 divine service is over. I might thus run over, in descrip- 
 tion, the Royal Exchange, Somerset House, Westminster 
 Abbey, and a hundred other buildings ; but they excite no 
 feeling in the heart, convey no food to the mind, and scarcely 
 the skeleton of an image to the imagination. Yet the Par- 
 liament House I must particularly mention. It is a very 
 old building, and from a western view seems to have fallen 
 from the clouds in " disjuncta membra " and to have been 
 blown together by a violent wind ; so that the Parliament 
 and Parliament House are perfectly congenial. At differ- 
 ent periods this building has undergone many improve- 
 ments. There is quite a small portion of tlie building, 
 known as the House of Commons, formerly St. Steplien's 
 Chapel, which long ago was devoted to what was then 
 called religion. This part of the building is thought by 
 many to be out of repair; but, unfortunately, it is situate 
 so near the centre, and the approach to it is through so 
 many windings that you might as well pull down the 
 whole edifice as undertake to repair it. Besides, many of 
 the occupiers of this apartment have an interest in the 
 premises, and are naturally attached to a house which 
 has cost them so much money ; but, like many other 
 
208 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 persons, rather than repair their house they are willing to 
 hazard its falling on their heads. Perhaps no human in- 
 vention was ever more criticized than this apartment. 
 For instance, some have ohserved that it appears very 
 well defined at a distance, Ijut that internally it is little 
 better than a labyrinth ; that those who enter soon get be- 
 wildered, no longer know their former friends, and seldom 
 return the same way they entered. Others have compared 
 it to a worsted purse, extremely accommodating, capable 
 either of contraction or expansion, at pleasure. Some 
 have more ludicrously compared it to a puppet-show, and 
 have stretched the comparison ])eyond all bounds of tolera- 
 tion. After all, I think it the best room in the house. 
 
 A little lower down is another famous ajiartmcnt more 
 ornamental than useful, called the House of Lords. Its 
 size is a little less than that of the Ilouse of Commons. I 
 never was in any place so well calculated for lounging; and 
 I believe it a just remark, that most of those who find them- 
 selves on these satin seats lounge away the rest of their 
 days. Indeed, the government not infrequently places 
 restless men there to make them easy ; such a wonderful 
 influence have these satin seats on the spirits of men. A 
 violent fever of ten or twenty years has been known to 
 change to a life-long lethargy. Calypso never possessed a 
 stronger influence over the nature of men than do these 
 satin seats. 
 
 There are many small apartments on the area well 
 worthy the notice of a stranger. Those termed the courts 
 of King's Bench and Equity are the most remarkable of 
 the several courts. The court of Equity is a very small 
 apartment, nearly circular, — in allusion, I suppose, to the 
 circle, the most perfect of figures ; though a person whose 
 case had been in Equity five-and-twenty years might sup- 
 pose that the allusion points to Time, as the circle has no 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 209 
 
 end. All these courts of law are so exceedingly circum- 
 scribed that you might imagine they were designed for the 
 lawyers only. The entrance to them is through a spacious 
 hall, but the distance is so great that the suitors are fre- 
 quently lost before they can find the courts. So this 
 spacious hall, though built for the public service, is chiefly 
 devoted to the entertainment of a few lawyers. It is a pity 
 these courts cannot be rendered more commodious and 
 easy of access ; but there is very little prospect of this, 
 for the bare proposition would evoke a " nolumus mutare " 
 throughout the country. 
 
 1 shall speak more distinctly in my next letter. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 London, April 4. 
 
 The conclusion of my last letter has given occasion for 
 the present. 
 
 Human laws, however well adapted to a people's circum- 
 stances, however well defined or mildly executed, are of 
 unequal operation. In all societies there are persons who 
 hang so loosely on the social compact that they may be 
 considered privileged characters, and paramount to the 
 law ; while others, though seemingly born for the opera- 
 tion of law on themselves, contrive to slip the noose of 
 justice. These two classes are little affected, whether the 
 laws operate kindly or with the greatest severity. How- 
 ever, the number of these people will scarcely be trouble- 
 some under a polity where all the members have it in their 
 power to live by industry in decent respectability. Our 
 own country is an illustrious proof of this ; the conven- 
 
 14 
 
210 LETTERS FROxM LONDON. 
 
 iences of life are there procured with such facility, and the 
 government rests so lightly on the shoulders of the citizens, 
 that the most abandoned European rogues find it to their in- 
 terest, on their arrival, to become honest. The burden of 
 the law forever bears hardest on that class of men who in 
 most countries are the majority, — I mean those who have 
 sufficient honesty to keep within the limits of the law, yet 
 not sufficient property to feel perfectly easy under its au- 
 thority. Hence the daring observation of Beccaria will be 
 found practically true : " The generality of laws are ex- 
 clusive privileges, — the tribute of all to the advantage 
 of a few." 
 
 Now, if the association of the rich and poor for the sup- 
 port of law be a very unequal association, and if the poor 
 suffer the chief burden of that establishment which pro- 
 tects the rich, and if law will, from necessity, even in a 
 government founded on the broad basis of political equal- 
 ity, operate in this manner, the man who, confiding in the 
 protection of law which has received its sanction from the 
 highest human authority, experiences from whatever cause 
 its inefficacy, and finds himself ruined — though the law 
 in its sarcastic mockery may give him a verdict — must 
 feel his moral sense weakened, and in the moment of 
 indignation feel disposed to make reprisal. 
 
 These observations are necessary in order to convince 
 you that I am serious in what I shall advance in tlie pres- 
 ent letter, though I cannot reasonably expect one word of 
 it will be believed. 
 
 It was the policy of Alfred, says history, to bring justice 
 home to every man's door. Now this is either an orna- 
 mental story in the annals of that age, or Madam Justice 
 has for many years been too proud to enter the door of a 
 cottage. It is the boast of the English that they live under 
 oqual laws, and that in the eye of the law the meanest 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 211 
 
 man in the kingdom ranks with the greatest. Though 
 this were a vain boast, it bespeaks a people not entirely 
 uninfluenced by noble sentiments. It has, however, unfor- 
 tunately happened to other people besides the Romans to 
 appeal to laws engraven on " twelve tables," but which, in 
 process of time, attract the notice of the lawyer less than 
 that of the antiquary. A modern Roman may dig up a 
 broken piece of an old column which shall contain the 
 whole spirit of Roman liberty, and on this authority assert 
 himself a freeman. So may an Englishman produce from 
 his dusty archives Magna Charta, and quote you the proud 
 passage : " Nulli vendemus, nulli negabimus, aut differemus, 
 rectum aut justiciam," and I will send him to the court of 
 King's Bench or Common Pleas to recover the sum of XIO. 
 A form of government or a code of laws may command our 
 admiration, but unless they operate in practice they serve 
 only to betray the weak more easily to the wary. Tlie 
 operation of the laws is laiv, not their theory/. 
 
 A legitimate government, that is, a government founded 
 on public "will, should make it a first concern that the laws 
 of property ^ sit as easy as possible on the shoulders of pov- 
 erty. The greatest praise which a code of laws can receive 
 is the high estimation in which it is held by tlie poor ; but 
 if the operation of the laws be oppressive, the poor naturally 
 transfer their hatred from the abuses of the laws to the 
 laws themselves. Hence the embryo of revolution. It is 
 unfortunate that in all governments destitute of a regene- 
 rative principle the first abuse merges in the second, and 
 the latter in the succeeding one ; so that at length accumu- 
 lated abuses lay claim to prescription and outbrave the law 
 itself. Otherwise it never could have happened that in 
 England, famous throughout the world for just judges and 
 
 1 Criminal law, however severe, in all countries operates more equally 
 than the laws which regulate private property. 
 
212 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 well-defined law, a poor man whom injmy has overwhelmed 
 is necessitated to fly from remedy, lest the justice of his 
 country should double his distress. Indeed, I caught the 
 following observation from Lord Chancellor Eldon,i while 
 on his seat in Chancery : " In many instances a man who 
 trusts to his neighbor's honesty, without taking any secu- 
 rity, stands a better chance of obtaining justice than if he 
 brings his case into Chancery on the faith of parchment." 
 The Chancellor delivered this witli a vehemence which 
 did him honor, and in just indignation at the perversion 
 of justice, which in his own court and under his own eye 
 occurs so frequently in spite of himself. This, let it be 
 observed, was in the court of Chancery. It is the inferior 
 courts which most interest the great mass of the people. 
 In Chancery, if the scales of justice sometimes labor, the 
 suitors in general can afford to oil them. Let the laws 
 take care of the poor, the rich can take care of themselves : 
 the widow's cruise I wish to spare. 
 
 I shall now show you, by a single fact, the practical 
 operation of law in England. 
 
 In the year 1793 the number of writs from <£10 to .£20 
 only, wliich issued in Middlesex, amounted to 5,719. The 
 sums sued for amounted to <£ 81,791. If not one of these 
 writs had been defended, the costs would have amounted 
 to £68.728. Had they been defended, the amount of costs 
 would have arisen to £285,950 ! This I do not expect you 
 will believe. What havoc among the poor ! Sir William 
 Blackstone says that the impartial administration of justice 
 is the great end of civil society ; but such justice as the 
 above, one would suppose, would soon be the complete end 
 of civil society. 
 
 Coleman, in his comedy of the " Poor Gentleman," im- 
 agines the following dialogue between Sir Robert Bramble 
 
 ' Better known in the United States as Sir John Scot. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 213 
 
 and Humphrey. Sir Roh. : " Is there any distresses in the 
 parish ? Read the morning list, Humphrey." Humph. : 
 " Jonathan Haggcns of Muck Mead is put in prison." S'ir 
 Bob. : " Why, it was but last week Gripe, the attorney, 
 recovered two cottages for him, by law, worth sixty 
 pounds." Humph. : " And charged a hundred and ten 
 for his trouble ; so seized the cottages for part of If is bill, 
 and threw Jonathan into jail for the remainder." 
 
 I know not where I read the following story, which, 
 though in the oriental style, was doubtless fabricated in 
 England : — 
 
 Tanghi, a young and gay Chinese, had married the 
 daughter of a wealthy Arab, whose dowry was three horses. 
 Who was so happy as Tanghi ! He had a very pretty 
 wife and, what in some countries is still more valuable 
 than women, three of the finest horses in the empire. It 
 is no wonder that Tanghi was disposed to make a gay 
 appearance. He sported his horses to the admiration or 
 envy of all Pekin ; but if wisdom is sometimes rash, how 
 should folly know where to stop ? Tanghi soon sported 
 away his property, and in a moment of distress sold his 
 finest horse on a short credit. Tchin Chan, the pur- 
 chaser, had a very particular friend, a lawyer, who com- 
 manded no little practice at Pekin. This friend had 
 long desired to become the proprietor of at least one of 
 these Arabian horses ; and when his friend Tchin Chan 
 informed him of the purchase, the lawyer naturally in- 
 quired if the money were paid. To oblige his friend, 
 Tchin Chan promised to refuse payment. The lawyer 
 immediately wrote a note to Tanghi, informing him that 
 Tchin Chan designed to refuse payment, and politely 
 offered his services in recovering the money. At the end 
 of nine months, Tanghi got judgment for the whole sum 
 with interest ; but Tchin Chan, by the advice of his friend. 
 
214 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 appealed to a higher tribunal, and again recovered judg- 
 ment for the money with interest. After another appeal 
 in the last resort, final judgment with costs and interest 
 was given in favor of Tanghi, for the Chinese agree with 
 Sir William Blackstone in thinking that impartial justice 
 is the great end of civil society. The story adds, that 
 just before final judgment, Tanghi's two other horses were 
 attached by his lawyer. 
 
 Is it not remarkable that legislation, which ought to be 
 the first, has in all countries been the last concern of 
 nations ? While people are making telescopes twenty feet 
 long to discover new systems, they are regardless of man, 
 the glory of their own system ! Could not an Englishman 
 visit the United States and retort much of this letter ? I 
 Itclieve he might. 
 
 There is one petty institution in London which merits all 
 my admiration. It is the only instance which I have ever 
 found of a discrimination between the rich and the poor.^ 
 This institution is the Court of Requests for the recov- 
 
 1 It is verv true the laws of property make uo distinction between man and 
 man. A poor niau is secure of justice, when his cause comes before the sacred 
 tribunal, bat if he do not perish before it arrives there, he may possibly find 
 himself buried at last under a load of justice. 
 
 Of all the emperors of the East, Selim was the most just. Not a day 
 passed in which it was not proclaimed from the tower of the palace, " Selim 
 is just ! Selim never sleeps while injustice triumphs." The name of Selim 
 mittgled itself with the religion of his subjects. No praises ascended to 
 Allah, in which Selim was not named ; no tears were shed which accused 
 Selim ; no wrinkles of age owed a deeper furrow to the account of Selim. 
 His presence among his people was as benign as the dew of heaven to the 
 tropic latitudes. Razai lived far from the capital, content to cultivate a 
 few paternal acres. An opulent neighbor in draining his own lauds, had 
 overflowed the little patrimony of Razai. In vain Razai remonstrated, and 
 then proceeded to the capital to throw himself at the feet of Selim, often 
 repeating on the way, "Selim is just! Not a day passes in which is not 
 proclaimed from the tower of the palace, Selim never sleeps while injus- 
 tice triumphs." Razai had never seen the capital, and when he entered it 
 his inquiring eyes and earnest looks arrested the attention of everybody. 
 He told his storv a hundred times before he arrived at the palace, every 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 215 
 
 ery, without appeal, of debts under forty shillings, at the 
 expense of ten pence ! There are many of these petty 
 courts distributed through Westminster, and if they oper- 
 ate without abuse, are, in my opinion, not less illustrious 
 than the most noble order of the Garter. 
 
 Such institutions in the capital towns of the United 
 States would afford an alleviation from one of the greatest 
 pressures under which the poor labor. Such courts should 
 command the whole practice under ten dollars ; and if the 
 legal fees would not engage a lawyer of integrity and tal- 
 ents, let him be remunerated from the county treasury. 
 
 It would not be less glorious than beneficial to the 
 United States should the Congress commission, at the ex- 
 pense of the nation, a number of intelligent men to bring 
 home all that is better in other countries in economy, law, 
 
 agriculture, and the arts of life. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 oue telliug him that Selim was just, and that it was daily proclaimed from 
 the tower that Selim never slept while injustice triumphed. He approached 
 the palace, and just before he entered he heard the sound of a trumpet pro- 
 claiming, " Selim is just ! Selimnever sleeps while injustice triumphs." Razai's 
 heart was in his eyes, — his heart was all over him ; he exclaimed in the warmth 
 of his feelings, " Selim is just! and I shall return a happy man to Scliirah." 
 Razai entered the palace, and thought he found himself already in the pres- 
 ence of Selim, so splendid was the person who received him. It was one of 
 Selim's favorite officers of the household. Razai related his case, and the 
 officer responded, "Selim is just! But all who approach Selim must first 
 purify themselves at the entrance of the palace, with an offering to justice." 
 He was then conducted one step nearer to the throne of Selim, who was sit- 
 ting in judgment. He was received by another splendid personage. Razai 
 related his story, and the officer replied, "Selim is just ! Behold the eternal 
 light of justice ! bright as the sun, and pure as his rays ; but all who ap]3roach 
 Selim must first nourish this lamp with oil." This done, Razai was directed 
 to the chief Aga. He related his story to the chief Aga, who responded, 
 " Selim is just ! But all who approach — ." At this moment, Razai saw sev- 
 eral persons returning from the royal presence. With a heart bursting, 
 dubious, alarmed, he cried out, " Is Selim just ? " With one voice they all 
 exclaimed, " Selim is just ! But, alas ! we perish under a load of justice ! " 
 
216 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 LETTER XXIL 
 
 London', April 9. 
 
 An Englishman once recommended to his son, who was 
 about to travel, to go forty miles to see a man of letters, 
 rather than five to see a famous city. The republic of let- 
 ters has lost nothing of its ancient liberality. It is only 
 necessary to wish to sec learned men in order to be ad- 
 mitted to their society. I discovered this so soon that I 
 burned most of my merchant-letters of introduction. 
 
 I am acquainted with a gentleman who seems to have 
 studied mankind with considerable success. He is learned, 
 intelligent, and communicative ; and, what renders these 
 qualities still more valuable, he is not an author. Of two 
 men in all respects equal, I prefer the company of him who 
 has not written a book.^ Mr. L., I imagine, is past fifty ; 
 this with me is a recommendation. Ilis age and intelligence 
 give him an authority which, in general, I have no riglit 
 to dispute, while my deference disposes him to confidence, 
 and raises us above rivalry. He invited me some time 
 since to visit St. Paul's on some pleasant morning, and 
 from its eminence to take a view of the city, as he had 
 not seen it, he said, for the last twenty years and more. 
 I waited on him yesterday morning, and was happy to find 
 him disposed to devote the day to this purpose. It will 
 be a memorable occasion with me, and not uninteresting 
 to you. I shall therefore commemorate it with a long 
 letter. 
 
 He observed, that he had " always been fond of cultivat- 
 ing the society of foreigners, for this is a surer means of 
 
 1 Those who have written books are sometimes more precise, but gener- 
 ally dogmatical, angular, and systematic. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 217 
 
 understanding the peculiarities of a people than reading 
 either their history or the fictions of travellers. Those 
 minutia3 which distinguish the domestic character of one 
 people from' another are either overlooked or thought too 
 trifling to claim the notice of the historian, while the trav- 
 eller is equally ready to embellish or deform. Hence one 
 nation knows very little of another, except of their more 
 prominent or excrescent features. You have heard that 
 the Englishman is a more downright, positive character 
 than the Frenchman ; but you will understand this charac- 
 teristic better if you witness a conversation between them, 
 — the one will use the indicative, the other fi'equently the 
 subjunctive mood." He added : " No man can be ac- 
 quainted with foreigners, if they appear in their proper 
 characters, without esteeming their nation more than if 
 he had never seen any individual of that nation. You, 
 sir," addressing himself more particularly to me, " esteem 
 the English more than you did before you visited them." 
 
 " That is very true, sfr, but I esteem England less." 
 
 "That distinction I expected you would make ; but 1 
 would permit no other foreigner to make it. He should say 
 that he esteemed Englishmen, but admii^ed England." 
 
 I ought to have premised that Mr. L. is remarkably 
 liberal, except when a subject is started which may pos- 
 sibly touch hard on England ; and though a bitter dis- 
 senter, he is not less an Englishman. 
 
 He then asked me if I took notes of whatever made new 
 impressions upon me. 
 
 " Yes, sir," I replied, " I shall note the particulars of 
 our present conversation." 
 
 " I fear you will prove a severe judge," 
 
 " Why so, sir ? " 
 
 " Your education and principles will lead you to brandish 
 the scourge of satire, rather than wanton with the plume 
 
218 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 of panegyric ; you regard society as a wilderness wliich 
 mocks at the pruning-hook and will only yield to the 
 ploughshare. You ought not to speak of England before 
 you have observed the state of society on the continent." 
 
 " In what respect, sir, do you think I shall suffer my 
 prejudices to bias me ? " 
 
 " Why, for instance, you cannot behold a nobleman's 
 country-seat with any pleasure ; the cottages of the tenants 
 remind you of the feudal system ; you cannot patiently see 
 a fine equipage, — the servants before and behind affect you 
 with convulsions ; nor can you contemplate his Majesty 
 with any complacency, — his guards suggest the pretorian 
 bands ; in short, you are not pleased to see a rich man, 
 for you immediately begin to calculate the number of the 
 poor which one rich man supposes. But, sir, your feelings 
 carry you too far ; so long as civil society exists a large 
 portion of mankind must be comparatively poor. Riches 
 and poverty are convertible terms. The distinctions among 
 men are founded in Nature ; as in a forest, you may ol> 
 serve that a few trees are kings of the wood, many are 
 on an equality and of respectable height, but a greater 
 number are mere dwarfs which Nature stints (and these 
 in resentment grow crooked and knotty), besides a great 
 quantity of furze and underwood." 
 
 " Nay, sir," I replied, " you have no right to use this 
 illustration. If the dwarfs, the furze, and the underwood 
 suffer by being overshadowed by the kings of the wood, 
 your exposition were happy. Besides, sir, Nature, to which 
 you appeal, is not so capricious ; you have coupled together 
 trees, furze, and underwood, three different species. Now, 
 we find in inanimate nature a certain deference to equality 
 among members of the same species ; but, sir, if an upas- 
 tree were to spring up on the equator and threaten to 
 overshadow the whole world, would not every tree of the 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 219 
 
 wood be interested to destroy the poisonous influence of 
 this tyrant ? You carry your principles too far, sir." 
 
 He smiled at my impetuosity. 
 
 In passing down Fleet Street we saw at a distance a 
 man of enormous and disproportionate body. " Do you see 
 that man," said Mr. L., " who is approaching with such 
 hard labor ? Twenty years ago he was as healthy, active, 
 and well-proportioned as any man in London ; but, unfor- 
 tunately, a distant relative left him a large fortune. This 
 proved his ruin ; he abandoned himself to indolence and 
 high living, consequently to gout and grossness. The fat 
 soon began to grow about his eyes, so that now you see 
 he IS almost blind ; doubtless another twelvemonth will 
 hermetically seal both of his eyes." 
 
 Soon after, he pointed to a little court which we passed, 
 observing, " A man lives in a back apartment there who 
 could not give a better account of himself for the last 
 twenty years tlian could the person we have just seen." 
 
 I asked who he might be. 
 
 " He is an alchemist," said Mr. L., " in search of the 
 philosopher's stone ; but," added he, " I have known only 
 one discoverer of the secret ; he knew the grand art of 
 being happy without it." 
 
 " But, sir, how can you account for it that persons in 
 this age should attempt to realize fortunes from those 
 speculations wherein thousands have miserably failed and 
 not one person has ever succeeded ? Nothing equals this 
 in the history of madness and extravagance." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. L., " notwithstanding every preceding 
 adventurer has been ruined, notwithstanding the ridicule 
 attached to the pursuit, notwithstanding repeatedly abortive 
 experiments, still there are alchemists who persevere in 
 search of the philosopher's stone. There are anomalies in 
 the minds of men which perplex the deepest research. 
 
220 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 " We have on record several instances of characters not 
 less extraordinary than the alchemists of our day, — the 
 character of Proxenus, for instance, as drawn by Xenophon : 
 
 " ^Tavra ovv (piXoTroXefiov /xot BoKel avSpo<; epya elvat, oari'^^ 
 i^ou fM6v elpyjVTjv dyeiv dvev ala-^vvr]<i koI ^Xd/Sr}^ aipelrat 
 TToXefietv ' e^ov Se paOvfielv, ^ovXerai irovelv ware iroXefielv • 
 e^ov Be '^pTJfiaTa e^eLV aKivZvvo}<i, alpelrat, 7ro\e/x(bv [xeiova 
 ravra irotelv.^ ^ 
 
 " Not less unaccountable was the bias of the mind of 
 Pyrrhus, who projjosed the most arduous and impossible 
 exploits as the means of attaining to that eminence which 
 he already enjoyed. 
 
 " No other country offers so much encouragement to nov- 
 elty, whether useful, capricious, or elegant ; hence every 
 new theory, whether of utility or the reverse, is elaborated to 
 perfection. As amidst the boundless extravagance of this 
 metropolis nothing is lost, so among the still more extrava- 
 gant imaginations of men no idea which can be wrought 
 into a mechanical, scientific, or literary commodity is suf- 
 fered to float in vacuum, but is fashioned or tortured into 
 profit. Hence you find thousands of quacks of all descrip- 
 tions whose success gives them a degree of respectability, 
 not a few of whom have probably become dupes to their 
 own quackery." 
 
 " Then, sir," I suggested, " all mankind are quacks ; for 
 I have never known a man who had not entire faith in 
 certain errors, in support of which he would have set a 
 contrary conviction at defiance." 
 
 " Nay, sir," he replied, " tliey are not quacks until they 
 expose their commodities to the public, or thrust their sen- 
 timents on mankind. If a man really believe he has dis- 
 covered a panacea, he is not a quack if the secret remain 
 in his own breast. You would not have thought Mahomet 
 
 ^ Anabasis, bk. ii. 6 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 221 
 
 an impostor if, after his death, you had found the kuran in 
 his cabinet." 
 
 At this moment a quack advertisement was put into 
 my hands, and Mr. L. remarked, " There, sir, if that man 
 should swallow his own pills he might be a fool, but he 
 would not be a quack." 
 
 " With deference, sir, I object to Mahomet ; why would 
 he not have been an impostor ? " 
 
 " He would have been, if mankind had been weak enough 
 to believe him ; so would the author of the Arabian Nights' 
 Entertainments. So also would Jacob Behmen and Eman- 
 uel Swedenborg have been impostors so far as their 
 works were thought to be real history or divine authority 
 rather than the recreations of fancy or the impulses of 
 delirium." 
 
 We now approached Ludgate Hill, on the eminence of 
 which stands St. Paul's. We visited several apartments 
 before we ascended to the cupola. In one of the apart- 
 ments there is the ancient model from which St. Paul's 
 was built ; and being ignorant of architecture I improved 
 the opportunity of learning a few technical terms, I asked 
 what a certain part was denominated ; " That is the nave," 
 said the person who waited on us. 
 
 " Do you not know," said Mr. L,, " that there is usually 
 a nave in a church ? " He added, " Your churches are 
 differently modelled." 
 
 I was proud of the compliment, and told him I believed 
 the clergy in the United States really were, in point of 
 morality and primitive simplicity, an ornament to the 
 country, and not unworthy successors of the apostles. 
 
 " To what do you attribute this exemplary carriage ? " 
 
 " To this, sir, that the simplicity of the Gospel has not 
 in the United States mingled with politics, and produced a 
 religious aristocracy. You know, sir, we have no church 
 
222 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 establishment ; there is unlimited toleration without po- 
 litical restriction. Hence among the various sects there 
 is a spirit of Christian emulation." 
 
 " Then you do not think," said Mr. L., " that Jesus 
 Christ, at his second coming, will be likely to call on my 
 lords the bishops." 
 
 " Our Saviour at his second coming, if he visit any one, 
 will visit him who shall have most of his own spirit, and 
 will be more likely to enter a cottage than a palace." 
 
 " Yes, he doubtless will, if he appear in his former char- 
 acter ; for he would be obliged to work all his miracles over 
 again before his lordship the bishop would admit him into 
 the parlor. However, I do not think he would come to 
 England." 
 
 " Why not, sir ? " 
 
 " They — I do not mean the Jews — would put him to 
 death a second time." 
 
 " I do not understand you, sir." 
 
 " Then," said Mr. L., " you do not understand the 
 manners of the age." 
 
 When we had ascended to the cupola, 1 reminded him 
 of the conversation in the apartment of the church model. 
 He resumed the subject, and spoke as follows : — 
 
 " The laws, customs, and opinions of every country, 
 whether good or bad,"whether founded in truth or error, 
 must be respected. There are two species of treason, — 
 one of sentiment, or theoretical, the other overt or prac- 
 tical. The latter is regarded by all governments with 
 more lenity than the former. An overt act of treason 
 has its particular object, and the law has defined the 
 nature and punishment of the crime ; but the first named 
 species of treason is too subtle for the law. It can neither 
 be anticipated nor defined ; hence it is more dangerous, as 
 it infects the community without suspicion and tends to 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 223 
 
 revolution without remedy. We ought not to wonder, 
 then, at the jealousy of governments when new opinions 
 subversive of old maxims are published ; for every govern- 
 ment which has not a renovating principle soon becomes a 
 tyranny, and is interested in supporting a certain set of 
 notions, no matter whether right or wrong. 
 
 " The death of Socrates has been considered in all ages 
 an enormity of injustice, scarcely surpassed by the cruci- 
 fixion of Jesus Christ. The fate of this man has caused 
 lamentation in the pulpit and tears in the closet. Who 
 has not sympathized with the old bald philosopher, and 
 been ready to burst the prison, snatch the bowl of hemlock 
 from his hand and dash it on the floor ? Yet let us for 
 a moment inspect the conduct of this philosopher. The 
 religion of his country had been settled for ages, yet he 
 disturbed the State by introducing new and disparaging 
 the established gods. He endeavored, as Cato the Censor 
 justly remarked, to abolish the customs of his country, and 
 draw the people over to opinions contrary to the laws. In 
 what country or in what age would Socrates have fared 
 better ? If such a man were to appear in England and 
 maintain principles as unconstitutional and as abhorrent 
 to the principles of the lords-bishops as those of Socrates 
 were inconsistent with the laws and received notions of 
 the Athenians, he would awaken a resentment which might 
 forget for a moment the lenity of law. 
 
 " The apostle Paul would meet with a worse reception 
 in England than he did in Greece or in Rome. If we con- 
 sider for a moment his letters to the Greek and to the 
 Roman populace, we shall be surprised at the clemency of 
 those statesmen who so long tolerated a man whose doc- 
 trines, inculcated with elevated contempt, not only trampled 
 on the whole national mythology, but entered the cities and 
 expelled the auspicious presiding Lares ; nay more, wliose 
 
224 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 doctrines pervaded the social fire-hearths and cxdomesti- 
 cated the hallowed Penates. What has Paine, Priestley, 
 or Price, what has Tooke, Wakefield, or Godwin advanced 
 so offensive to the feelings of the present age as were the 
 principles of Socrates and of Saint Paul to the Atheni- 
 ans and the Romans ? Now, if Christ should appear 
 in England or in any other country in Europe and con- 
 duct himself exactly as he did in Judea, what, sir, do you 
 think would be the consequence ? He would doubtless 
 find many followers, but the Scribes and Pharisees would 
 feel interested — first to deny him, and then to put him 
 to death." 
 
 This letter is already too long, therefore you may expect 
 in another the conclusion of the expedition to St. Paul's. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 London, April 16. 
 After the remarks to which the nave in the church gave 
 rise, Mr. L. pointing around the horizon observed with 
 national complacency : "You see now the metropolis of the 
 queen of isles. The name of London excites the envy, the 
 hatred, or the admiration of the world. 
 
 " Her fame extends as far as winds can blow, 
 Or ships or fish upon the waters flow." 
 
 He added, — "There is more public spirit, there is more 
 amor patrice, and when the people are oppressed there is 
 more obstinacy of resistance, within the circumference of 
 ten miles here, than in all the rest of Europe." Then with 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 225 
 
 an energy wliich transported my thoughts to ancient times, 
 he repeated those famous lines of Alcieus : — 
 
 Ov XiOoL, ovhe $vXa, ouSc rexYV tcktovwv ai TroAets, eie;/, aAA oirov 
 TTOT uv ojo-LV "ANAPES avTovs o-w^civ ciSdres ivravOa koX Teixrj koL 
 
 TToAets.^ 
 
 " Now," continued Mr. L., "cast your eye on the Thames, 
 and contemplate the innumerable merchantmen. The per- 
 fumes of Arabia, the luxuries of the South, and the ele- 
 gancies of the East are wafted up this silver stream, and 
 thence distributed through a thousand channels, to gratify 
 the senses of this happy people. Here you find what no 
 other people ever witnessed, — luxury and liberty, commerce 
 and strength of character." 
 
 " Happy the man," thought I, " who in the midst of mis- 
 ery and ruin sees nothing but scenes of felicity. Such an 
 one will find flowers in December." 
 
 " You seem to be in a rcvery," said Mr. L. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I was comparing the English with those 
 blessed spirits of Indian paradise, who, reposing half 
 intoxicated beside water-falls, on the banks of their ely- 
 sium, sleep only to dream of pleasure, and wake only to 
 enjoyment. Oh, happy people of Wapping, did you but 
 know your happiness ! For you the luxuries of the South 
 and the elegances of the East are landed at your doors. 
 Oh, fragrant tatterdemalions of St. Giles's, would you but 
 incense yourselves with the perfumes of Arabia ! " 
 
 Mr. L. smiling at this outburst, observed that every Picca- 
 dilly and Pall Mall must have a St. Giles's, and every Fleet 
 Street and Corn hill a Wapping. He then asked me if I 
 had ever traced the progress of civil society from its first 
 
 1 The late Arthur W. Austin, Esq., a son of the author of this volume, 
 turned these and other lines of Alcaius into verse (see " The Woman and the 
 Queen : a Ballad, and Other Specimens of Verse." Boston, IST.'i). The lines 
 were also paraphrased by Sir William Jones in his verses entitled, " What 
 Constitutes a State." — Ed. 
 
 15 
 
226 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 rude endeavors to its present state of social affection and 
 accommodating polity. 
 
 He added : " Here arc nearly a million of people in Ihis 
 small compass, whose interests, views, and pursuits cross 
 one another as do the streets ; yet human policy has con- 
 trived to divest the people in a great measure of Hobbs's 
 principle, and has rendered them the most pliant, docile, 
 and submissive of all animals. In a state of Nature cor- 
 poral strength dominates the mental faculty. Here, all 
 the violences of a state of Nature are usurped under law, 
 custom, prerogative, privilege, pride, avarice, and fashion ; 
 and what would be considered among barbarians refine- 
 ment on barbarity is effected here by mutual consent." 
 
 " I pray you, sir, particularize." 
 
 " Why, for example, do you wish to banish a man from 
 his country ? It may be easily effected, at the same time 
 you will appear to confer a favor. Do you wish to assas- 
 sinate your enemy ? gain his confidence, affect friendship, 
 anticipate his feelings, administer to his desires, allure him 
 to the precipice, and in the degree he approaches ruin, you 
 will rise in his esteem ; but if you wish to imbitter his 
 situation ^^'ith a knowledge of your own perfidy, throw him 
 into prison, and keep him there for life. If this process be 
 too tedious there is a more direct way. If the man l)e in 
 business, collude with his creditors and employers. Do you 
 wish to see him worn to a skeleton with constant fatigue? 
 Garrow shall be made to wear away his eyebrows,^ and 
 Erskine and Gibbs shall become sallow in poring over dark 
 questions, — darkened still more with the glorious uncer- 
 tainty of the law, — while the judge shall daily sit seven 
 hours 2 on the Bench, in defiance of gout, gravel, and stone. 
 
 1 Mr. Garrow has no e.vebrows, and no wonder, since he has browbeaten 
 so many witnesses. 
 
 2 Tiie Chief-Justice of the Court of King's Bench is daily on the Bench 
 seven hours during nearly six months in the year. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 227 
 
 In one word, sir, do you wish to send your enemy to hell, 
 advise him to take orders, and offer him promotion in 
 the church." 
 
 " But I am most surprised that this immense number of 
 people who live at the expense of one another, and who 
 have less regard for their neighbors than the savage has 
 for his, should contrive to live in a compass so small. 1 
 think it worthy of remark that the most populous cities 
 have always been the most easily governed." 
 
 " Why," said Mr. L., "those who are most enslaved are 
 most obedient to their rulers. If you could put all the 
 Chinese, Italians, Germans, and Spaniards into a washing- 
 tub, they would be more easily governed. In despotic 
 States the people are more quiet and passive than in a 
 monarchy like tliis. Hence more enormities are com- 
 mitted in England in one year by the. subjects than in any 
 other country in Europe ; but, on the other hand, fewer 
 injuries are offered to the subjects under the sanction 
 of law." 
 
 " This may be true, sir, with respect to England, but how 
 happens it that in the United States — a country so free 
 that not a few of the savages have preferred it to Lake 
 Huron, or the more temperate regions of the South-west 
 — fewer enormities arc committed by the subjects there 
 than in England. To particularize : In the most strongly 
 contested elections there has never been a man slain. They 
 cannot say this at Westminster or Nottingham." 
 
 " It is of little consequence to your people, who their 
 legislators are, so long as the Constitution is administered 
 on its own principles. Now the probability is, that of 
 two, three, or more candidates, all will support the Con- 
 stitution. Hence in most elections, there is at present 
 with your people no other than a personal motive of 
 prefereilce." 
 
228 LETTERS FEOM LONDON. 
 
 " I instanced but one particular. Can you give as good 
 a reason wliy there are fewer crimes of every description 
 committed in the United States, by citizens, than in any 
 other country ? " 
 
 Mr. L. candidly allowed that the difference is to be attrib- 
 uted to the system of government. 
 
 Mr. L. then gave the conversation another turn and 
 remarked, — " There was once a merchant in extensive 
 business — a man of deep calculation and great foresight 
 — who ascended St. Paul's to command a view of the city. 
 He took a map from his pocket, and stood some time in 
 melancholy musing, when he exclaimed, ' Here is a true 
 picture of worldly greatness ; this city has already cost 
 more than it will ever be worth ! ' What," said Mr. L., "do 
 you imagine was the process of this merchant's mind ? " 
 
 To this it was replied : " Perhaps he was a West India 
 proprietor, or an East India director, or a great stock job- 
 ber ; perhaps he was all these together, and possibly, he had 
 been in both Indies and had seen in the East those jungles ^ 
 of which Cornwallis, the successor of Mr. Hastings, wrote 
 to the Company. If so, the ethereal air of this eminence 
 might, for a moment, have elevated his mind above personal 
 consideration, and led him to compare the affluence and 
 happiness of London with the misery and oppression of all 
 those who are the sources of your greatness. Then casting 
 his eye on the map, and reflecting how large a portion of 
 the globe was at that moment suffering for the aggrandize- 
 fnent of a few merchants, he was naturally led to exclaim, 
 ' Auri sacra fames ! ' " 
 
 While I was saying this, I perceived that Mr. L. was 
 collecting himself for a violent explosion. In his opinion, 
 
 1 Cornwallis wrote to the East India Company that three fifths of the 
 Company's territory had become a jungle ; that is, deserted by the natives, and 
 possessed by wild beasts, meaning thereby lions, tigers, leopards, etc., not 
 Englishmen. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 229 
 
 I had not been sufficiently respectful toward the majesty of 
 old England. 
 
 "Sir," said he, "you have totally mistaken the mer- 
 chant's meaning. He was a notorious miser, who came 
 here for the pleasure of contemplating the various situation 
 of his own estates, but being apprehensive of the depreci- 
 ation of real estate ho was alarmed for his property. Com- 
 merce, which you affect to undervalue, is the grand pillar 
 of our strength and magnificence. In these times, a 
 small extent of territory must be commercial in order to 
 maintain its entirety and independence ; the people, occu- 
 pied in commerce and manufactures, must depend for pro- 
 tection on the military resources which wealth insures, or 
 at least suffer a dismemberment of the kingdom. Destroy 
 our commerce and you instantly wither the heart of Eng- 
 land ; those thousand veins which lead from a thousand 
 distant extremities in so many directions to this centre, 
 would cease to nourish their parent source." 
 
 This was conclusive, so far as it related singly to Eng- 
 land ; but I could not refrain from remarking that there is 
 no mutual benefit, for England takes profit of the veins, but 
 affords not a single artery. We now descended. 
 
 After I returned home, I fell into a revery. " Here is a 
 country," thought I, "whose greatness is built on the oppres- 
 sion and slavery of all those who are connected with her ; 
 wherever England has laid her hand, she has left the print 
 of her fingers. Wherever she has trodden, she has blasted 
 vegetation. Of whatever country she has gotten possession, 
 she has reduced it, either to a state of slavery or to desola- 
 tion. The moment her influence is felt, it either rouses the 
 spirit of emigration, or impels to immediate flight.^ The 
 
 1 Yet the government of England, when it destroys its enemies, adores 
 God's righteous judgment ; when it is likely to suffer, it cries out in the name 
 of heaven and earth against the diabolical machinations of its enemies. 
 
230 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 fertile fields of Ireland show noble cattle, but a fine har- 
 vest is a blessing to her oxen, not to her people, — they are 
 excluded from God's providence. Even Scotland, reduced 
 far below the state of Nature, and weary of the sight of her 
 dear native hills, banishes herself forever to the frontiers 
 of America. Nor is England much more enviable ; she 
 starves her subjects to fatten her horses. If this be the 
 state of things under the wing of the Constitution, what 
 may be expected at the extremities of the empire ? If Eng- 
 land's West India possessions were sufficiently extensive to 
 drain Africa, in ten years the race of negroes would be 
 extinct.' The East is more involved in darkness ; and 
 perhaps it is more honorable to humanity, and to the hon- 
 orable East India Company, that this history should never 
 be written or mentioned." 
 
 Help me bless God, my dear fellow, that the United 
 States are not within the influence of this upas, and that 
 we are nationally guilty of but one enormity, — I mean the 
 toleration of slavery. 
 
 Oh, heaven ! is it possible that in the United States, a 
 country where the purest principles of legislation which 
 ever adorned civil society hold sway ; a country in which 
 the human character is already elevated to a superior 
 degree, as compared with the miserable people of Europe ; 
 a country whose principles, tested by their present opera- 
 tion, are to influence future ages and perhaps sanction the 
 basest crimes, — is it possible that in such a country, you 
 can find a " slave to be sold " ? 
 
 What abominable impudence ! What unheard* of incon- 
 sistency ! Let other people who do not acknowledge our 
 feelings and our principles, enslave and be enslaved. 
 
 1 It has been ascertained that the West India planters are obliged to im- 
 port annually at the rate of ten per cent, on their stock. I submit this to 
 Lord Thurlow. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 231 
 
 Europe is not inconsistent ! She never acknowledged the 
 rights of man. In England, — whose oppressions have 
 travelled with the revolution of the globe, have explored 
 new oceans, and have extended to the four quarters of the 
 world, — a negro is as free as a Briton. I blush for my 
 country; and I have been made by Englishmen to blush 
 for my country. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 London, April 22. 
 
 The south of Europe has long been accustomed to call 
 the English barbarians. Tlie weaker character, which 
 suffers from the stronger, is readily disposed to strong epi- 
 thets. The degenerate Greeks termed the Romans bar- 
 barians. A nation of slaves will always be inclined to 
 consider their neighbors barbarous, in the degree they 
 approach natural freedom. This opinion of foreigners 
 ought to flatter the English ; they would be little disposed 
 to become like their neighbors in order to be more 
 civilized. 
 
 That people, whoever they may be, who for a thousand 
 years have neither changed their constitution of govern- 
 ment nor their religion, nor suffered the forcible and 
 infectious intercourse of foreigners, but whose laws, cus- 
 toms, manners, and sentiments, kindly bending with time 
 and circumstance, are nothing more than emanations from 
 the spirit of their government, will regard the English 
 as a monstrous sort of people. 
 
 However, it must be conceded that foreigners have some 
 little color for their opinion, though they are not suffi- 
 
232 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 ciently candid to inquire the reason. The Enghsh have 
 been so frequently bandied about and suffered so many 
 modifications within a thousand years that one part of 
 their character is at least two centuries behind the other. 
 , This will ever be the case where the original stock of a 
 nation like the English has suffered so many ingraf tings 
 and revolutions. In order that laws, customs, and manners 
 may keep pace with civilization, it is necessary that the 
 people should preserve their principles and their individ- 
 uality, and be neither retarded nor hastened in their career. 
 But if a people be not free when they enter the social con- 
 federacy, those checks which they may receive and those 
 foreign inroads which will partially destroy their individu- 
 ality are as likely to benefit as to injure. 
 
 The English, you very well know, have been peculiarly 
 subject to those impressions which revolutions leave 
 behind ; and no revolution can happen without exciting 
 the worst passions into action, and transmitting them to 
 posterity. 
 
 As we learn from history, this people were at one time 
 little better than savages. Propitious events have led them 
 to comparative freedom ; but these events have rendered 
 the English the most complex characters in Europe by 
 not always happening at that period of their civilization 
 which was most conducive to their advantage. I give an 
 instance. 
 
 From the moment Magna Charta was signed, the Eng- 
 lish fancied themselves free ; the nobles, indeed, attained 
 their object. The people also were proclaimed free ; but 
 they had not more of the spirit of freemen than has the 
 slave who rests on his spade and listens to the song of 
 liberty. They were not then ready for freedom. The 
 issue of the Revolution of 1688 was the best constitution 
 of government which modern Europe — which perhaps the 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 233 
 
 world had ever witnessed. The English were then free ; 
 unfortunately their freedom came too late. Liberty for 
 the first time found herself seated on the couch of com- 
 merce. The consequence might have been foreseen ; an 
 evil has grown up with the English Constitution which has 
 long since proved its ruin. 
 
 There is but one period allotted to any people in which 
 they can establish their freedom. Prior to this period they 
 are too barbarous ; posterior to this period they are too 
 civilized. The Romans under the auspices of Lucius 
 Junius Brutus seized the happy moment. In process of 
 time they gradually lost their liberty ; yet they knew not 
 precisely how nor when ; but lost it certainly was in the 
 days of Marius and Sulla. Brutus, some time after, en- 
 deavored to restore the liberty of his country, but it was 
 too late. Lacedeemon offers a similar remark. Lycurgus 
 established what might then be called freedom ; but after 
 a few centuries, neither Agis nor Cleomenes could renovate 
 departed principles. 
 
 I will also instance the Reformation. This happened at 
 a period fortunate for the people. The Roman Catholic 
 religion when it has its proper operation, is an effeminate 
 religion and tends to precocious civilization. Had the Eng- 
 lish continued Roman Catholics until now they would have 
 been much weaker characters than they are at present. 
 Though the Reformation strengthened the national char- 
 acter of the English, yet a change of religion in any coun- 
 try will awaken the most ferocious passions, unless there 
 be an absolute toleration without political restriction and 
 disability. The injuries which the Dissenters, who are 
 one-fifth part of the nation, have suffered from the Church 
 of England, and, on the other hand, the hard feelings which 
 the Churchmen indulge against the Dissenters have given 
 an impression little favorable to the English character. 
 
234 LETTERS FEOM LONDON. 
 
 Political dissensions, which have been urged further in 
 England than among any other people except those who 
 ranged themselves as Guelphs or Ghibellines, have also 
 served to render this people barbarians in the eyes of 
 foreigners. 
 
 The beheading of Charles the First, the usurpation of 
 Cromwell, and the consequences of the abdication of 
 James the Second, all had their effects. It is unnecessary 
 to revert so far back as the days of York and Lancaster. 
 
 In the opinion of foreigners, the inhuman code of crimi- 
 nal law tolerated by the English is little favorable to the 
 national character. If we reason only from their criminal 
 laws, without reference to the state of society, it would be 
 a fair conclusion that the English are either the worst or 
 the most barbarous people on earth. They have very hu- 
 manely abolished torture, but they have retained the death- 
 penalty. Their humanity cannot endure the broken arm, 
 the lacerated body, the quivering flesh of the criminal ; 
 but a simple hanging affects them as little as the loss of a 
 sheep, a sorry horse, or forty shillings. I have heard 
 Erskine laboriously address a jury, in the presence of the 
 Chief-Justice of England, in behalf of five pounds ; yet if 
 a man's life be at stake, no counsel is allowed the felon, 
 whatever may be the palliating circumstances, lest the 
 jury, more humane than the law, should be driven to 
 compassion. 
 
 The commonalty of the English have a most ferocious 
 appearance ; but, as far as I have observed, it is only an 
 appearance. We cannot expect that the deportment of 
 those who bear the whole weight of society should be so 
 engaging, or their countenances so rounded with compla- 
 cency, or their dispositions so placid as we should expect, if 
 their lives were exempt from the pressure of daily anxiety. 
 If two men have oricrinallv the same features, different 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 235 
 
 pursuits will so entirely change their physiognomies that 
 Lavater would have classed them in different species. 
 Another pursuit might have converted the hard features 
 and sallow complexion of the lawyer into the round 
 lineaments and ruddy glow of the bishop.^ 
 
 In fine, a people who have suffered so many impressions 
 as have the English cannot have a nicely distinct char- 
 acter ; like the senators of Tiberius, they will be likely to 
 have all the airs of freemen, with the conduct of slaves ; 
 and to those who are both slaves in their manners and 
 actions the English will seem barbarians ; yet these bar- 
 barians have been governed by women, and were quiet 
 subjects under petticoat government. 
 
 There are only two marks in England of a very bar- 
 barous people. The first concerns the inhabitants of Lon- 
 don and the other great cities only, a large portion of 
 whom spend their days below the surface of the earth. 
 This is owing to the lack of accommodation, which 
 obliges them to convert their cellars into kitchens. The 
 other mark concerns the women only ; like many barbarous 
 people they paint, but with this difference, — the former 
 to look like angels, the latter to look like the devil. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 
 London, April 29. 
 The English ordinaries and eating-houses offer an in- 
 exhaustible source of observation on the national character 
 and manners. You meet not only with all descriptions of 
 
 1 The business meu are chiefly conversant in tioes not only give a cer- 
 tain cast or turn to their minds, but is very often apparent in their outward 
 behavior. — Spectator, No. 197. 
 
236 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 London people, but likewise with French, Irish, Scotch, 
 and country people ; and you may choose your company, 
 from the most humble to the most exalted ; that is, you 
 may choose the price of your dinner, from sixpence to a 
 guinea. You are not troubled with the least ceremony ; if 
 you wish for nothing more than a dinner, you have only to 
 enter these places, hang up your hat or keep it on your 
 head, sit down, look at your bill of fare, call for your din- 
 ner, pay for it, and go away. 
 
 A Londoner generally enters the room and observes no- 
 body, plants himself firmly at the table, then in an airy 
 manner breaks his bread in halves, falls to, says not a word 
 during his dinner, — which he masticates rather slowly, 
 yet swallows too quickly for his health, — rises from table 
 in resolute reserve, and retires from the room as he would 
 from a cavern. The Frenchman, on the contrary, makes a 
 general bow when he enters, no matter who the company 
 may be, carefully hangs up his hat, sits and adjusts him- 
 self, cuts his bread, eats his dinner rapidly, sits a little 
 while, converses, and retires with a general bow. 
 
 If you are willing to make an effort, you may often en- 
 gage a Londoner in conversation,* especially if he thinks 
 you are a grade above him, otherwise he may regard you 
 as impertinent. The Scotch, Irish, and country people 
 are more sociable at table, — the country, people from 
 curiosity, the Scotch with a view to information, ilie Irish 
 frequently from a love of rodomontade. 
 
 However reserved and indifferent people may be, they 
 never so fairly lay themselves open as at their meals. On 
 no other occasions did the pagan gods and goddesses so 
 openly betray their origin in human invention as at their 
 jovial feasts of nectar and ambrosia. At table, the 
 divine forgets his system, the physician his last fatal ex- 
 periment, and the lawyer no longer casts a side glance 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 237 
 
 at his neighbor's pocket. All being on an equality at 
 these places, those who are so disposed feel no embar- 
 rassment in giving themselves up to their natural im- 
 pulses. The most grave will sometimes be induced to for- 
 get their affectation, while those who claim their parentage 
 from Mercury and hold to the " dulce est dissipere in 
 loco " desire no better place to worship the god than these 
 liberal institutions afford. Not knowing that they shall 
 ever see one another again, they scarcely feel responsible 
 for the sentiments they utter, and hence they sport their 
 opinions on men and things, and not infrequently throw 
 out, as though by chance, dubious yet favorite notions, 
 in order to ascertain their probable currency with the 
 world. 
 
 If you wish to study human nature you can see it in all 
 alive, provided you are willing to adapt yourself. There 
 is not a grade in society with which you may not familiar- 
 ize yourself ; but then it is necessary to have a various and 
 extensive wardrobe, otherwise you will miss your object. 
 Under the late administration, the Venetian custom of 
 spying out people's opinions was adopted ; so that every 
 man was suspicious of the company in which he chanced 
 to be. It is not exactly so now, though I have been 
 shocked more than once by the remains of this poison 
 of social intercourse. Figure to yourself a party of 
 strangers flung back in their chairs in all the security 
 of good-humor and ingenuous remark, struck dumb on 
 the entrance of a person suspected for a pointer of gov- 
 ernment commissioned to scent out sedition. You would 
 imagine the Roman " delators " revived again. Had I been 
 in London during certain late years I should have felt 
 myself at Venice, and should never liave passed Cold Bath 
 Fields without being reminded of the Inquisition. How 
 different in the United States ! If a person dislikes the 
 
238 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 administration of government he says so in the open mar- 
 ket, in the public streets, in popular assemblies, nay, more 
 — a custom which I disapprove — in the pulpit, in those 
 places dedicated to divine harmony ! If his abuse be 
 mingled with any sort of reason it is listened to ; if it 
 be scurrilous, it is only laughed at, or rendered harmless 
 by inattention. In a good government seditious infection 
 is never dangerous ; it is not contagious ; it cannot find 
 matter on which to operate ; by its dissipation it is rarefied, 
 cleansed, or annihilated. 
 
 The same person, if he choose, in the course of a week 
 may parade Bond Street in the morning ; ^ gamble in the 
 evening with knights and noblemen ; show himself at 
 Ilungcrford's, and discourse of redoubts, battles, sieges, or 
 broadsides, captures, and prize-money ; shift his dress, and 
 dine and dance Avith the beggars in St. Giles's ; look in at 
 the Stock Exchange Coffee-House, and affect the man of 
 business ; or go to Wapping, be entertained for sixpence, 
 and pass himself off for an accomplished sailor. 
 
 No wonder the London wits should write good comedies ; 
 they can pick up a character every day ; and if they are at 
 a loss for a whole character they can readily put together 
 two halves. A stock-jobber and a politician will always 
 make an excellent knave ; and if a pensioner with a 
 courtier will not make a complete parasite, they can add 
 a lord bishop. I am acquainted with a comic writer who 
 told me he met a man at an ordinary who afforded him the 
 hero of his most successful comedy ; but it cost him, he 
 added, more than a week before he could perfectly catch 
 his hero. 
 
 If you wish to know how the petty cooks can afford to 
 
 1 Those who are termed " Bond-Street loungers " consider mid-day mid- 
 night ; hence three o'clock in the afternoon is early dawn. These gentlemen 
 are frugal in one respect, — they save their breakfasts. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 239 
 
 give you a dinner for sixpence or less, I will tell you what 
 I learned at Wapping, where I dined for fourpence half- 
 penny including a farthing to the waiter, who was very 
 much obliged to me. I was told it was the custom of the 
 more respectable ordinaries and eating-houses to sell their 
 leavings to the next less great houses ; these in their turn 
 sell again, so nothing is lost ; but a part of that dinner 
 which is eaten at a high price at the west end of the town 
 is eaten at Wapping, perhaps a fortnight after, for four- 
 pence. Thus the delicious viands of the rich degenerate 
 at length into twopenny broth for the poor. This may 
 offend a delicate stomach, but hunger never reasons, and 
 as the sailors say, " Poison is killed by boiling, and what 
 will not poison you will fatten you." Some of these cook- 
 shops boast of more liberality than others. They give you 
 a tablecloth, a pewter plate and a spoon, and do not de- 
 mand your money until you have dined ; while others will 
 make you pay before you eat a mouthful, and will trust you 
 with nothing but a wooden plate, a wooden bowl and a 
 wooden spoon. 
 
 The different sorts of men whom you meet at these 
 places are remarkable. If it did not excite the most de- 
 basing ideas, it would be humorous to converse some- 
 times with a class of men you find at these places, whose 
 stupid ignorance would disgrace a Hottentot. If they 
 have half an idea, they know not enough of the English 
 language to convey even that. They seem to have been 
 born in a cockle-shell and have never burst their confine- 
 ment. Locke possibly got his opinion that the human 
 mind was like a blank sheet of paper from his knowledge 
 of this description of men, whom you may find in every 
 cook-shop. They are so profoundly stupid, they scarcely 
 know whence they came, where they are, or whither they 
 are going ; yet frequently they possess a remarkable 
 
240 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 sagacity in whatever is directly connected with their oc- 
 cupations, — a fair proof that they once had minds capable 
 of discernment. Therefore they ought not to be classed 
 by naturalists as a distinct species, though they are gen- 
 erally considered such by certain politicians. 
 
 As you know not who your company are, you may be as 
 likely to dine with a pickpocket as with a saint. One day, 
 after a genteel person, whose conversation was very intelli- 
 gent, had retired from table, I was asked if 1 knew him. 
 Answering in the negative, I was informed that he was 
 reputed to be a highwayman. This will i)robably surprise 
 you, but it ought not. In such a city as this, and in such 
 a country, where, if a man is willing to brave suspicion, the 
 law waits until he affords full proof, a person may pos- 
 sibly pass the greater part of his life in the business of a 
 highwayman, parade the public walks every day, and even 
 affect the highest style of splendor, and all the while under 
 the strongest suspicions, yet no one will venture to arrest 
 him, or to charge him with his crimes. Although a thou- 
 sand witnesses should testify that they were robbed, and 
 could almost testify they were robbed by the prisoner, yet 
 they must more than almost identify his person, which is 
 extremely difficult on account of his mask ; otherwise he 
 would assuredly be acquitted. Our own criminal laws are 
 similar. The same person who informed me of this reputed 
 highwayman, remarked that most persons of this class are 
 well known to the Bow-Street " runners." * Like other as- 
 sociated bodies, they frequently assemble at known public- 
 houses and the Bow-Street runners are on tolerable civil 
 terms with them. For instance, if one of these runners 
 should demand admittance to their assemblies, which is 
 frequently the case, he would be admitted, though treated 
 in the most laconic style. Thus : " Whom do you want ?" 
 
 1 GflBcers of justice employed to pursue suspected persons. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 241 
 
 The runner names the person if he sees him, who replies, 
 " I will wait on you directly." If the runner says the per- 
 son whom he wants is not there, the reply is, "Well, then, 
 off and be damned ! " Such persons as are arrested and 
 carried off are called " flats " by their associates. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXYl. 
 
 London, May 8. 
 
 I PURPOSE in this letter to answer your important ques- 
 tion respecting the Constitution of the United States ; and 
 to render the subject less tedious, I shall introduce the 
 English system by way of comparison. 
 
 The Constitution of England is said to be the strongest 
 form of government which the world has witnessed. This 
 is too general : a government may be very strong in its 
 political operations, and yet of very brief duration. A 
 strong government implies stability as well as energy. 
 Otherwise an absolute monarchy is the strongest of all 
 the three original forms. Age, not energy and dispatch, 
 is the mark of a strong government ; still, duration is not 
 a sure sign of its excellence. 
 
 It will be worth the labor to prove that the government 
 of the United States is as strong as that of England. I 
 shall go further, and from the natural bias of man's mind, 
 reasoning on the causes of revolution, shall satisfy you, I 
 believe, from analogy, that the Constitution of the United 
 States is even stronger than that of England. 
 
 Dating from 1692, the Constitution of England is one 
 hundred and eleven years old. An Englishman will prob- 
 ably date from the reign of King John ; but with whatever 
 
 16 
 
242 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 triumph he should appeal to Magna Charta, the successive 
 tyrannies which the nation experienced down to the time of 
 James the First were still more ignominious, if England 
 really had a free Constitution to which to appeal. What 
 clieck had Henry the Eighth, or with what reference did 
 Elizabeth govern England ? Her authority was a perfect 
 despotism, confessedly mild, but undefined and uncon- 
 trolled, which frowned down all opposition into disaffection 
 and treason. James the First, though personally as weak 
 as the Emperor Claudius, felt himself not less absolute; 
 and Charles the Second, had he been less a buffoon, might 
 have revived the days of Henry the Eighth. 
 
 The English would be wise to appeal to history in sup- 
 port of one dubious point only, — which, if true, is wortliy of 
 the remark, " If we were once slaves, we are now free." 
 Most people are tied down to the sorry reflection, " If we 
 were once free, we are now slaves." 
 
 Allowing the Constitution of England to be as old as 
 Magna Charta — which I myself would allow, could I find 
 a single reason for so doing — it unfortunately proves too 
 much ; for the repeated revolutions England has undergone 
 since that period argue a weakness, which totally destroys 
 every claim to stability. 
 
 The Constitution of England is one hundred and eleven 
 years old, that of the United States only fourteen. Roth 
 have this merit, — a change of public officers may happen 
 in either country without a revolution, or, to speak more 
 precisely, without affecting the Constitution. That this 
 total change should occur in England there is scarcely a 
 remote possibility, because, agreeably to Mr. Burke's posi- 
 tion, the king himself enjoying the fee simple of the British 
 empire, and his own consent being necessary to effect such 
 a change, it cannot be expected a king of Great Britain will 
 surrender his family inheritance. The change of public 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 243 
 
 officers has already happened in the United States, and 
 successive changes will more firmly establish the Constitu- 
 tion. The sovereign people perceiving how easily a change 
 may be wrought when the government is either weakly or 
 corruptly administered, will not be disposed to proceed to 
 those violences which are necessary in England, if the 
 original compact between the people and government 
 should be so far superseded as to warrant a revolution. 
 
 The Constitution of England cannot be contemplated ex- 
 cept with reference to King, Lords, and Commons. Hence 
 the affections of the subjects are regulated by their con- 
 sideration for the reigning prince, and by the degree of 
 respect which the House of Lords attaches to itself, but 
 particularly by the independence or facility of the House of 
 Commons. Thus the long reign of a weak prince, succes- 
 sive unpopular ministers, together with an unprincipled 
 House of Commons, would weaken, if they did not ren- 
 der contemptible, the Constitution. In the United States 
 the citizen contemplates the existing administration with- 
 out a necessary reference to the Constitution ; they are two 
 distinct things. Now, no administration can be long in 
 power without becoming in a certain degree odious ; and 
 this odium attaches to the Constitution in the degree that a 
 change of administration is more or less practicable. But 
 the citizens of the United States are in no danger of this 
 disaffection. There is scarcely a possibility that abuses 
 should gain strength in spite of the Constitution ; there is 
 no danger that the first abuse will take root, perpetuate it- 
 self, and rise to enormity. In one word, the Parliament 
 does not so much flow from the Constitution of England, 
 as the Constitution flows from the Parliament. The King, 
 Lords, and Commons are, in a very great degree, para- 
 mount to the Constitution, while the Constitution of the 
 United States is paramount to the Congress. 
 
244 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 Further, the Constitution of England is unwritten, and 
 known only to the people by its operation. It has indeed 
 been questioned if the English have any real Constitution. 
 Whatever is undefined cannot admit of reasoning. Argu- 
 ment may forever flutter round the dubious point, but can 
 never rest. More than this, the most carefully worded 
 statutes arc frequently defeated by the ingenuity of the 
 lawyers, and every new act of Parliament extends the field 
 of litigation. To what a labored debate did the question 
 of our federal judiciary give rise ! Yet both parties con- 
 stantly appealed to the first section of the third article of 
 the Constitution which contains but seven lines. Now, 
 if the sagacity of the wise be frequently liable to wander 
 in doubt, or falter in perplexity, an unwritten Constitu- 
 tion is prima facie much worse than none, by reason 
 of its lending itself on all occasions as a sanction to 
 Parliament. 
 
 Let us confess the truth : the English are the freest peo- 
 ple in Europe. Whence does this arise ? From that portion 
 of the Constitution called the common law, which recog- 
 nizes three grand popular prerogatives, — the right of per- 
 sonal liberty, the right of personal security, and the right 
 of private property. One might suppose that the English- 
 man intrenched behind these, would hurl defiance at oppres- 
 sion ; Init unfortunately these prerogatives are continually 
 liable to be superseded by a paramount prerogative of the 
 Constitution. Insure an Englishman his common law, and 
 he will scarcely contend for his Constitution : while the citi- 
 zen of the United States not only reposes under tlio protec- 
 tion of the common law, which certainly is well calculated 
 for people aslecj), but he awakes to assert and claim the 
 positive rights of a well-defined Constitution. 
 
 The common law is founded on equality, its chief excel- 
 lence. This sometimes gives the lowest of the Endish a 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 245 
 
 dignity to which slaves are insensible. But the common 
 law is barely protective, while the Constitution offers lit- 
 tle on which the people may rest their fondest hopes. 
 Not so the Constitution of the United States ; with all 
 the equality of the common law it acts on the citizens as 
 an incentive, not only to all the political but also to the 
 moral virtues ; the Constitution attributes nothing to fam- 
 ily, nothing to riches, nothing to reflected merit. He who 
 was born a beggar frequently arrives at a condition in 
 which he might retort on a nobleman, " My ancestors are a 
 disgrace to me ; you are a disgrace to your ancestors." 
 Hence with the poorest, love of the Constitution becomes a 
 passion, and mingles with their sentiments and actions, 
 mingles with their religion, mingles with their life. In 
 England, on the other hand, the most felicitous and gen- 
 erous feelings of which man is capable are cautiously cher- 
 ished, or blighted in youth. It is justly considered in the 
 United States that all those honors and riches which de- 
 scend to a great man's posterity, would be a direct injury 
 to the greatest men in the republic. A great man founds 
 a new family ; but his posterity, from age to age, do not 
 inherit the rights of the great ancestor ; they cannot do 
 this unless they inherit his ability. They usurp the natural 
 rights of some other man equally great ^ with the founder 
 of the family, but who has been necessarily excluded by rea- 
 son of hereditary succession because rewards and honors in 
 every State must be restricted within certain bounds. It is 
 not for me to determine who, but some one of the nobility 
 in England possesses the natural rights of Home Tooke, 
 and some other nobleman possesses those of William 
 Windham. ^ 
 
 1 If every century prodnces an equal number of great men, this is precisely 
 true. 
 
 2 If natural ability be frequently perverted in England, it is the fault of 
 the Constitution. A great plebeian must either be hanged, pensioned, or 
 
246 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 I w ill illustrate : If tlic first characters in the United 
 States should he ennobled, the ofiices of honor and emolu- 
 ment would naturally flow from them to their heirs. In 
 cases of emergency, indeed, if the descendants were not 
 equal to great occasions, necessity would compel the gov- 
 ernment to summon to its aid the plebeian great. Hence in 
 England you find a Chatham, a Hardwicke, a Smith, and a 
 Duncan. Nobiliores viri factis quam gcnere. If the re- 
 mote relatives of the nobility had been barely competent, 
 these great men would have sunk under the ascendency of 
 those who so frequently rise like air balloons, and rise 
 pretty much on the same principle, — for want of weight. 
 Now, if the heirs of this nobility were permitted to repre- 
 sent their great ancestors, long before they had arrived at 
 the age of thirty years there would be an equal numl)er of 
 men great as the ancestors of these heirs, of most of whom 
 it might well be said that it would have been better both 
 for themselves and society if they had been born idiots. 
 Hence every noble sentiment of which plebeians are suscep- 
 tible would be early suppressed, or, if indulged, would ])e 
 more likely to lead to disgrace than to usefulness. A citi- 
 zen of the United States has nothing to fear from this usur- 
 pation ; on the contrary, the reflection that his children 
 start in the race of life at the same moment with their con- 
 temporaries, and the assurance that their merits will not 
 be overshadowed and blasted by hereditary usurpation open 
 to each citizen new resources, and insure the parental du- 
 ties ; hence, the child is educated to love that Constitution 
 
 titled. Tonke nearly underwent the former fate : Wimlham, more fortunate, 
 was niaile Sooretary at War. 
 
 I emlirare tliis opportunity of offering my esteem to one of the greatest, 
 wisest, best, and most injured men in England. Tlorne Tooke lias ever 
 labored umler a most di.sgraceful and multiform oppression, which has fre- 
 quently ended in the base.st exertions of his enemies. Unfortunate man ! 
 had destiny cast your lot on our shores, you would have been revered whilo 
 living, as much as you yet will be when dead. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 247 
 
 under which his youth is passed ; and hence the strength of 
 our government consists in that alone which is competent 
 to its destruction. 
 
 Whatever may be the power of a State, however prompt 
 the executive and however inexhaustible the treasury even, 
 without the affections of the people all is false, all hollow, 
 all artificial. In vain docs the government nail up its 
 authority on every post, if it is not cherished in the hearts 
 of the people. In vain will a few purchased voices cry. 
 Long live King Richard ! In one night Pelopidas over- 
 turned a tyranny. In the height of his power Dionysius 
 found himself deserted in Syracuse. " Huic tantoe tem- 
 pestati quum se consules obtulissent, facile experti sunt, 
 parum tutam majestatem sine viribus esse." 
 
 Let us suppose a case. If a revolution should be at- 
 tempted in the United States, who would be the actors, to 
 whom would they apply, and what method would they 
 adopt? Would they, like Catiline,^ address the people: 
 " Nobis reliquere pericula, repulsas, judicia, egestatem. 
 Quae quousque tandem patiemini, fortissimi viri ? Nonne 
 emori . . . prgestat, quam vitam miseram atque inhonestam, 
 . . . per dedecus amittere ? . . . Etenim quis mortalium, 
 cui virile ingenium, tolerare potest, illis divitias supcrare, 
 quas profundant in extruendo mari et montibus coa^quan- 
 dis, nobis rem familiarem etiam ad necessaria deesse ? illos 
 binas aut amplius domes continuare, nobis larem famili- 
 arem nusquam uUum esse " ? Or would they apply to the 
 rich, and attempt to weaken their confidence by explain- 
 ing the little consideration which the Constitution attaches 
 to wealth as due to an odious spirit of equality which be- 
 reaves the pride of affluence of half its importance ; or, 
 more successfully, would they promise future grandeur, 
 the charms of aristocracy, and the self-complacency of 
 
 1 Sallust. Catilina, xx. 
 
248 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 licreditary succession ? "What a singular paradox ! Tlie 
 conspirators would cautiously avoid every man, that is, the 
 great body of the pco])lc, who earn their bread by ]»cr- 
 sonal industry, and would fly from all those who enjoy a 
 golden competency. Singular paradox ! The rich alone 
 would be actors in the revolution, and the poor ^ would be 
 the supporters of government ! On one side you would 
 see only those whose ambition had overstepped the proper 
 bounds, and whose riches had only added to their restless- 
 ness ; on the other, the great mass of the citizens, know- 
 ing that a revolution would not benefit them, but terminate 
 in aristocracy, would su})port the Constitution as the grand 
 jiillar of their own consequence. Hence the Constitution 
 is as strong as natural affection, and as durable as self- 
 interest. It destroys some of the Avorst and enlists in its 
 sujjport some of the best passions of which human nature 
 is susceptible. It lops off the efiicicnt cause of revolution, 
 and impels to pati-iotism. It is founded in popular feeling, 
 and is considered by the people as a part of their property, 
 as a part of their blood, as a part of their very life ; and 
 hence the strength of this Constitution consists in that 
 alone which is competent to its destruction. 
 
 You are now prepared, I believe, for the following 
 maxim : " A revolution cannot happen until it ought to 
 happen." This maxim is founded in human feeling, and 
 rests on the broad basis of exi)ericnce. A pcojilc blessed 
 with a good government arc themselves the surest pledges 
 of its support. Need I appeal to Sparta, Athens, Rome, 
 confessedly the best and most durable governments of an- 
 tifpiity ? The loug continuance of despotic power proves 
 nothing; where the will of the prince governs, his violent 
 
 ' Kich nnd poor arc convortililo terms; therefore in every country there 
 will be rich and poor. Hut poverty, in the European meaning of the word, 
 docs not find a i)lacc in the United States. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 249 
 
 death begets a revolution, although his successor be 
 equally absolute. Thus by consulting history, absolute 
 monarchies will be found to have undergone more frequent 
 revolutions than republics. Hence governments have ever 
 been found to be weak in the degree they have been abso- 
 lute. A great prince, indeed, may during his life give the 
 impression of durability to his rule ; but his successor 
 usually proves the inanity of power without personal char- 
 acter. At this moment I should be obliged to consult 
 history to know who were the successors of Alexander, 
 Chai'lemagne, or Alfred the Great. 
 
 In no instance recorded in history have the people 
 hazarded a revolution prematurely : they have indeed at- 
 tempted many too late. It is characteristic of every body 
 of men in subjection to suffer long before they appeal to 
 the last resort. The enterprise demands such an effort, 
 such vigor, such a degree of secrecy and unity of action 
 that most people are already slaves before they confess it 
 to one another. They hear the clanking of other men's 
 chains before they seem to feel the weight of their own. 
 Yet it is a favorite declamation with the pupils of that 
 school which Mr. Burke opened in prospect of a lordship, 
 that there is no political monster but the people — no 
 tyrant but the multitude. 
 
 Now, if a revolution cannot happen until it ought to 
 happen, the Constitution of the United States is pre-emi- 
 nent in strength over all otlier forms of government. 
 There are not sufficient materials wherewith to work a 
 revolution. It is not in human extravagance to act with- 
 out an object of action ; and happily the most dangerous 
 passions are rendered inefficient or subservient. Ambition, 
 indeed, may soar to the empyrean, but unless its object be 
 heavenly it must descend to prey on its own carcass. The 
 Federal Constitution has not only expelled every humor 
 
250 LETTERS FIJOM LONDON. 
 
 which might injure the habit, but has lojjpcd off every ex- 
 crescence which might fret the body. Nor is this all ; its 
 regenerative spirit, operating at short intervals, j)rescrvc3 
 its youth and gives it immortal vigor, so that the principle 
 of revolution is a part of the system. 
 
 The productive causes of revolution are restriction and 
 exclusion on the one part, and usurpation on the other. 
 In the latter particular our Constitution has nothing to 
 fear ; the first step of usurpation is the last ; nor has the 
 Constitution more to fear from restriction and exclusion. 
 It remained for the people of the United States to ex- 
 hibit the happiest sight which philosophy ever witnessed. 
 The extremities of all the religions in the world might 
 meet in a circle. " Incredibile memoratu est quam facile 
 coaluerint." ^ Hence unlimited toleration, incapacitated 
 by no political disability and no invidious exclusion, not 
 only teaches the citizen to respect other men's opinions or 
 to regard them with indifference, but strengthens the gov- 
 ernment by lopping off one principal exciting cause of 
 revolution. Should the Constitution of England be threat- 
 ened, the Dissenters, to say the least, would either sit with 
 their arms folded as if in triumph, or in a sort of anxious 
 indifference. 
 
 It is the property of most governments to grow strong 
 l)y usurping the rights of the people ; and when the ex- 
 ecutive, like the northern whirlpool seizes and swallows up 
 everything within its reach, then the government lays 
 claim to dignity and energy ; but this strength is as base- 
 less as an inverted pyramid, or is like the water-spout, 
 which, in the moment of its greatest strength and tower- 
 ing pride, finds its level with the ocean. In a considerable 
 degree the government of England partakes of the nature 
 of the northern whirlpool, in that it has seized and swal- 
 
 1 Sallust. Catilina, vi. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 251 
 
 lowed up the rights of the Dissenters, and moreover has 
 weakened itself in proportion to their strength. It is like 
 the inverted pyramid in that its chief strength, built 
 originally on the canon law, partially ameliorated, and on 
 the feudal system, partially corrected, flows from the head 
 and not from the heart of the social compact. It is like 
 the water-spout, in that its abuses, for want of an effectual 
 regenerative principle, are in danger of accumulating until 
 they rise to that pitch of enormity which naturally cures 
 itself. 
 
 On the contrary, the Constitution of the United States 
 is founded on natural strength, on popular right, on 
 popular affection, and may be amended and even newly 
 modelled without danger of a revolution. Such a govern- 
 ment will probably possess all possible good with least 
 possible evil. 
 
 In short, a monarch, a hereditary nobility, an estab- 
 lished church, are supposed here to be the foundation of 
 government. In the United States they are considered as 
 pompous titles, imposing names, usurpations ; nay, more, 
 it is held that legitimate government cannot exist under 
 them. Hence it will be found a more diflficult enterprise 
 to introduce than to overturn such a system. Most other 
 governments originated in slavery ; ours originated in 
 freedom. In the former case the weak have to contend 
 against the strong, and every unsuccessful effort renders 
 the weak still weaker, the strong still stronger ; and unless 
 the spirit of freedom should inspire the people, or the 
 tyranny should be intolerable even to slaves, there is no 
 remedy. In the latter case the conflict is only defensive ; 
 guard the sacred fire and freedom must be co-existent 
 with the principle. 
 
 Were the United States like ancient Carthage, or like 
 England or Holland, we should soon look with regret on 
 
252 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 what we once were ; but being an agricultural rather than 
 a commercial people, we shall be enabled, in spite of com- 
 mercial aristocracy, to preserve the Constitution in its 
 most wholesome state. The agricultural will hapidly 
 swallow up tlie commercial influence ; and even if com- 
 merce should ruin both the Atlantic and Pacific shores, 
 there will still be ample space between for liberty to range 
 in. Poverty, misery, and slavery, when they find a resi- 
 dence in the United States, will first seat themselves in 
 the capitals of the Atlantic, and may advance a little way 
 into the interior, but in vain will they endeavor to tres- 
 pass on the freeholders. The wings of our eagle, sitting 
 on the great range of mountains, if not large enough to 
 cover both the Atlantic and Pacific, will still shield the 
 freeborn, brave, and hardy sons of the soil. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXVIL 
 
 London, May 15. 
 
 Imagine to yourself a man of short stature, who has 
 just passed the prime of life ; whose broad high forehead 
 is inclined to baldness, but whose ruddy, thoughtful, yet 
 open countenance shows the temperature both of health 
 and philosophy ; of manners remarkably mild, unassum- 
 ing, ratlier reserved ; in conversation cautious, argumenta- 
 tive, frequently doubting, yet modestly courting reply, more 
 from a desire of truth than a love of contending; in his 
 family ailectionate, cordial, accommodating ; to his friends 
 confidential, ready to make any sacrifice ; to his enemies 
 — you would never know from Mr. Godwin that he had 
 an enemy. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 253 
 
 Mr. Godwin lives at Somerton, about three miles from 
 London. His house is neat, but in all respects unpre- 
 tentious ; it is called a cottage. His study is small, and 
 looks out upon the country ; his library is not large, yet 
 sufficient for a man who depends more on his own re- 
 sources than on the labors of others. The portrait of. 
 Mary, painted by Northcote, h^ngs over the fireplace. 
 This rendered the study one of the most interesting places 
 I ever visited. Though I have frequently been in the room, 
 I have ventured only to look at the portrait. Mr. Godwin 
 is since married to a charming woman who seems devoted 
 to domestic happiness. At present he is occupied with his 
 " Geoffrey Chaucer," a work of which great expectations 
 are entertained. 
 
 A billet received from Mr. Godwin this morning, in- 
 formed me that Mr. Holcroft and Dr. Wolcott would dine 
 there to-day. 
 
 Mr. Holcroft, though nearly sixty, has suffered nothing 
 from years, laborious mental exertion, or persecution. He 
 has all the activity and vivacity of youth. Just returned 
 from the Continent, whither he had banished himself in 
 compliance with the wishes of the English government, he 
 has brought back with him not the least resentment. Per- 
 secution, instead of imbittering his disposition, has had 
 the effect which it has on all good men. A villain will 
 always hate mankind in proportion to his knowledge of 
 the world ; a good man, on the contrary, will increase in 
 philanthropy. 
 
 Literature is not a little honored when one of her vota- 
 ries, leaving a mechanical employment at a period of life 
 when habits are usually fixed, has employed his pen suc- 
 cessfully, and realized a handsome support. Still more 
 charming is it to see the votaries of literature giving proofs 
 of the strongest friendship. Holcroft and Godwin are firm 
 
2^4 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 friends. A striking likeness of the former, also by North- 
 cote, is in the dininir-rooni. 
 
 In ap])earanoc. Dr. Wolcott is a genuine John Bull, and 
 until he opens his mouth you would little suspect his rela- 
 tionship to the poet of Thebes. He is a portly man, rather 
 wnwicldy, and, I believe, is fond of a sedentary life. He is 
 hastening to old age, and*seems disposed to make the most 
 of life. There is little similarity of character between 
 Wolcott and Godwin. They are both constant in mental 
 exertion ; but the one prefers to sit on a silver cloud and be 
 wafted through the four quarters of the world, looking 
 down on all the varieties of Nature and the follies of man. 
 The other, possessed of the nicest moral feelings, loves to 
 envelop himself in darkness and abstraction, in order to 
 contemplate whatever is just, fit, or useful. The one, laugh- 
 ing, dressed in the gaycty of spring, enters society with the 
 pruning-hook ; the other, more serious, labors with the 
 ploughshare. Holcroft, who, owing to a defective educa- 
 tion, never began to think until his mental powers had 
 come to maturity, embarrassed by no system follows the 
 dictates of his own mind, and if he is sometimes erroneous, 
 the error is all his own ; it is never a borrowed error. 
 Hence his conversation, embellished by the variety of life 
 which he has seen, is rendered rich, brilliant, original, and 
 impressive. 
 
 It is singular, but I believe old age is more disposed to 
 egotism and more open to (lattery than youth. I can ac- 
 count for it only from a fondness for the ])ast and a certain 
 kind of jealousy which arc natural to old age. However 
 this may be, a man like Wolcott, and a poet too, whose 
 society has been courted as much as his works have been 
 read, will naturally in the company of friends freiiucntly 
 find in himself a subject for conversation ; nor is this in 
 the least displeasing. They arc always the greatest egotists 
 
LETTERS FEOM LONDON. 255 
 
 who are most offended with the egotism of others. Wol- 
 cott seemed delighted with the following anecdote respect- 
 ing certain of his works. He said that the ministry had it 
 in contemplation to prosecute him for a libel ; and when 
 the good policy of the prosecution was questioned, the gra- 
 cious Lord Thurlow, to whom Wolcott was under great ob- 
 ligation, rose and asked his fellows whether they were sure 
 a jury would condemn the man ; and on the surmise of a 
 mere doubt, Thurlow said : " Then it is not expedient to 
 prosecute." 
 
 I was struck with surprise and horror when Mr. Godwin 
 informed me that the ministry once had it on the carpet to 
 prosecute the " Political Justice." I took occasion on this 
 to ask him how long before he was known to the world he 
 had devoted himself to literature. He replied : " It was 
 ten years before I was known as an author." This ought 
 to inspire the persevering with new ardor. 
 
 Wolcott, like most men of genius, has a contempt for 
 mere scholars, who, walking on the stilts of pedantry, im- 
 agine themselves a head taller than other folk. The talents 
 of a certain famous man being questioned, Wolcott re- 
 marked that he was not a man of genius, but a man of 
 great capacity. He also said that if we would attend to 
 him he would distinguish between the learned man, the 
 man of capacity, and the man of genius. " Here," said he, 
 " we will suppose a number of coins — ducats, pistoles, 
 dollars, guineas — on this table. The learned man, after 
 thumbing his dictionaries for half an hour, will be able to 
 tell you the names of these coins, in all languages. The 
 man of capacity will go further, and tell you the value 
 of each coin and the amount of the whole together, with 
 everything relative to their use, difference of exchange, 
 and origin. But who invented these coins ? The man of 
 genius." 
 
25G LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 Tliis gave general satisfaction. ITowcvcr, it was replieil, 
 and I thought very justly, that unless the man of genius 
 should acquire capacity, his genius without capacity would 
 be less useful than capacity without genius. For, the ex- 
 ertion of genius is rare. God does not every day create a 
 world ; and although genius may claim a higher preroga- 
 tive than capacity can claim, they are mutually indebted. 
 If genius gives employment to capacity, not infrequently 
 capacity gives direction and results to genius. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 LoNDOX, May 24. 
 
 I AM conscious how much I hazard in the present letter ; 
 but the preceding notices on the English character will 
 dispose you to consider this letter a commentary, rather 
 than a dictate of my own authority. 
 
 Those various prerogatives which the English claim to 
 possess exclusively might induce a stranger to sujipose 
 that they would fling themselves back in their easy-chairs 
 and cither deride or despise all those who are not self- 
 dependent, self-supported, and regardless of the opinions 
 of everybody else. Yet I am inclined to believe these 
 self-poised characters sacrifice more to their foolish pas- 
 sions than any other people. This can be illustrated only 
 by instances taken from real life. 
 
 It is oljvious that in proportion as a country is free, its 
 peoi)le will display a variety of passions ; while the case 
 and safety with which the passions may be indulged will 
 lead mauy to preposterous lengths ; and wiiilc the man is 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 257 
 
 ruining himself his obstinacy of perseverance will increase 
 to the last; the same spirit which first incited, propels him 
 forward. He will esteem it more honorable to flounder in 
 desperation than to stop midway in his career. " Maluit 
 patrati, quam incepti facirroris reus, esse." ^ His passion 
 acts in a circle, finds no end, but still progresses in degrees. 
 The poor, in proportion to their means, will be in danger 
 of low pleasures, or, what is not less ruinous, they will 
 sacrifice themselves to a hopeless emulation. 
 
 I think it necessary to premise this, in order to preserve 
 a degree of verisimilitude among so many inconsistent 
 traits as are discoverable among the English. 
 
 I have frequently thought that if such a man as Fabricius 
 should visit England, he would leave the people with sen- 
 timents little to their honor. He would discover that 
 poverty was considered not only the greatest evil, but a 
 species of crime. He would perceive a disposition to ex- 
 change fame, happiness, even principle, for worldly appear- 
 ance and the inglorious reputation of riches ; nay more, 
 that the poor enjoyed a transient happiness in being 
 thought affluent. 
 
 Zimmerman, you know, in speaking of the different 
 observations which different peoples make on strangers, 
 does the English the superior honor to attribute to them 
 this liberal characteristic : " What sort of a man is that ? " 
 The praise which this supposes may, for aught I know, be 
 comparatively just ; but certain it is, if the English ever 
 do respect a poor man, it must be under a singular circum- 
 stance ; for they cease to respect themselves only in the 
 degree they approach poverty ; and such a horror have 
 they of the mere suspicion of indigence that they become 
 prodigal in counterfeiting affluence, and insure future 
 through fear of present distress. The coward who killed 
 
 1 Tacitus. 
 17 
 
258 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 himself lest he sliould be killed by the enemy was not 
 more ridiculous. 
 
 The truth is, and 1 have noticed it before, the Entilish 
 attribute to themselves a wonderful degree of consequence : 
 they will naturally do this in comparing themselves with 
 the slaves of Europe. Unfortunately they appreciate the 
 fact that unless they possess the talents of a Burke or a 
 Sheridan, personal worth commands no respect without a 
 certain style of appearance ; and with all classes, except 
 that which is abandoned to hopeless wretchedness, this 
 necessary appearance is rated far above ability. Hence it 
 may easily be credited that the English are generally ex- 
 travagant, frequently desperate, and always unhappy ; for 
 no people descend to misfortune with less dignity than 
 the English. The fearful calm which precedes despair 
 or the headlong impetuosity of Niagara, seizes the un- 
 happy Englishman. His native frankness forbids him to 
 suppress his feelings ; from far you hear the brewing 
 storm. 
 
 If the English possessed the real spirit of independence 
 they might still retain all their pride, but they would mani- 
 fest it in a very different manner. Indeed, they sometimes 
 assert their independent spirit in devoting themselves to 
 mad pursuits, but, whether governed by whim or madness, 
 they would feel themselves disgraced if they indulged their 
 caprice or madness at less expense than they could their 
 sober senses. He who is fantastic is easily tolerated : but 
 if he is singular merely to save expense, he instantly be- 
 comes contemptible. 
 
 This unhallowed attachment to wealth does not spring 
 from the miser-jiassion of possessing property, but rather 
 from a consciousness that its dissipation affords the surest 
 means of gratification. The English are not remarkable 
 for being " alieni apjictontes," but only for being " profusi 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 259 
 
 suorum ; " yet the " profusi suorum " are nearly related to 
 the " alieni appetentes." 
 
 If you descend to real life you will find this same spirit 
 operating through all the ranks of society. In presence 
 of this influence, moral fitness, natural justice, and social 
 feeling are all annihilated. From the august tribunal of 
 the Lord Chief-Justice down to a petty Court of Requests, 
 from the Secretary of State to his humblest retainer, or 
 from the magnificent merchant down to a haberdasher of 
 small wares, — all, all are in counteraction to the proud 
 principles of their Constitution. 
 
 No people are more ready at the theatre to applaud the 
 fine sentiment, " Who steals my purse, steals trash." This 
 sentiment still passes in a court of honor, and it passes in 
 the theatre. When retired from real life, the people for- 
 get themselves ; but I have never heard the lines quoted at 
 Guildhall, nor at Westminster. The filching of a good 
 name and the stealing of a purse would conduct to very 
 different tribunals ; and the damaging of another to the 
 amount of a sixpence in purse and a sixpence in reputation 
 would terminate in very different consequences. The sen- 
 timent of Shylock is more just : " If you spare my life, 
 spare my property, for that is life." 
 
 In general, the spirit of a nation is shown in the spirit 
 of its laws ; but England is an exception. The English 
 •laws ignore all distinction in the several gradations of 
 crime. This would puzzle a foreigner ignorant of the 
 English character. 'He would either pronounce the Eng- 
 lish to be more attached to property than to life or repu- 
 tation, or conclude that they are a nation of thieves. At 
 the Old Bailey I saw a wretch capitally convicted for steal- 
 ing a ragged pocket-handkerchief, while the humane judge, 
 feeling the hardship of the case, asked the prosecutor this 
 question : " Were you in the least degree sensible of miss- 
 
200 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 ing it at the time, or immediately after tlie time; for if 
 you felt it go from your pocket, the felony was not capital." 
 Sometimes the jury, to save a man from the gallows, will 
 generously perjure themselves. At the Old IJailey, they 
 are in the frequent habit of reckoning two for one, except 
 when specie is stolen ; then they are obliged to value two 
 pounds at forty shillings ; though I have heard the judge 
 condole with the jury because there was no system of arith- 
 metic which would warrant their computing three guineas 
 at one pound nineteen shillings. 
 
 I am not sure if it ])c candid to attribute the unequal 
 laws of the English to their intemperate regard for \)vo\> 
 erty ; though I have labored in vain to find a less dishonor- 
 able reason. Commercial people, we all know, will, as much 
 as they can, render law offensive to others and defensive to 
 themselves. The same spirit seems to run through the 
 whole system of English law, whether relative to commerce 
 or to the landed interest. If you ask the mercliant, " What 
 do you consider the greatest crime ? " he might possibly say 
 murder, but he would mean forgery ; on the other hand, 
 should you ask the country squire the same question, he 
 too might possibly say murder, but he would mean the 
 murder of one of his hares. 
 
 In this country, few crimes arc thought to be highly 
 criminal so long as property is secure. One wouUl sup- 
 pose that the forcible amjiutation of a man's ears or nose 
 was a greater crime Ihan the stealing of one of his sheep; 
 but the fact is, a man's ears and nose are not essential 
 members, nor su])jects of trade ; whereas, if a man's ears 
 or nose were soused, like a hog's feet and ears, the law in 
 this respect would change from a civil process to a felony. 
 If you steal the only child of a fond parent, the law is 
 silent ; but if you steal tlie child's clothes you commit a 
 felony. I was present at a trial of this sort, on wliich the 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 261 
 
 prisoner was acquitted, it not appearing sufficiently evident 
 that he stole the child with a view to steal the clothes. 
 
 The same spirit influences the administration of public 
 affairs. The subject is invidious, yet sufficiently noto- 
 rious. Public offices are not sold at vendue, but it is well 
 known they may be purchased. You frequently see in the 
 most celebrated newspapers advertisements offering cer- 
 tain sums " to any lady or gentleman who can command 
 sufficient parliamentary interest to procure the writer a 
 public office with a specified salary " — the utmost secrecy 
 being promised ! I confess I had so much simplicity, 
 when I first saw such an advertisement, that I thought it 
 an excellent joke. I am now fully persuaded that public 
 offices may be purchased, if you know where to apply. 
 Mr. Addington is the last man to whom I would recom- 
 mend a suitor. He would certainly suffer disappointment. 
 
 The following singular circumstance passed under my 
 own observation. An honest fellow in the west of Eng- 
 land, with more money than correct knowledge of the 
 world, had doubtless heard that public offices as well as 
 loans and state lotteries were sold in London. A valuable 
 sinecure in his neighborhood becoming vacant, he wished 
 to purchase it for his son. In full expectation of getting 
 the office, he applied to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
 promising him two thousand pounds. The simple man 
 had no idea of bribing the Minister of State, and was not 
 a little frightened when told his proceeding was not ex- 
 actly regular. Mr. Addington prosecuted the man for an 
 attempt at bribery, and he was convicted ; but the judges, 
 much to their honor, feeling the merit of the case, imposed 
 the small fine of one hundred pounds. They were obliged 
 to convict the man, otherwise Mr. Addington must have 
 paid the costs. 
 
 In this instance the Chancellor of the Exchequer did not 
 
262 LETTERS FKOM LONDON. 
 
 show liimself the great man. Had there never been an 
 office sold in Enuland, public virtue might have exacted 
 this from Mr. Addiugton ; but England is not early Rome, 
 though Mr. Addington may be Cato the Censor. It would 
 have been more magnanimous m the Chancellor to have 
 written back a gentle reprimand, attributing the man's 
 offers to ignorance. This prosecution was as ill-timed as 
 a similar one would have been at that period of Rome 
 when Jugurtha, with a certain famous exclamation, de- 
 l)arted from the city. 
 
 In common life so much is attributed to the reputation 
 of riches that you meet with few men who would not be 
 happy to pass themselves off as worth ten thousand pounds. 
 This shows itself in the style of appearance and manners 
 of the people. Understand me ; I do not impute this so 
 liiuch to a passion for property as to a fondness for appear- 
 ance. To this ambition the old men are an exception ; 
 they are the same in all countries. No wonder if he who 
 has outlived the world and all his friends believes nothing 
 in this life is so substantial as money and so durable as 
 real estate. No wonder that when he can lean no longer 
 on this world, and when society conspires to cast him off, 
 he considers his bag of gold his softest pillow. 
 
 The first lodgings for which I in(]uired in London were 
 shown me by a decent-looking man. I had scarcely entered 
 the apartments when he told me he was independent and 
 not in the habit of letting lodgings, but that a part of his 
 family was in the country. 
 
 1 was chatting lately with a lady newly married, who 
 excused herself for a few minutes. On her return I ob- 
 served that she was more richly dressed. I bantered her; 
 she said she expected one of lier husband's relatives. 
 " "Well, and were you not dressed with perfect decency ? " 
 '' The gentleman whom I expect," rcjilied the lady, " would 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 263 
 
 never have called on me again, had he seen me in that 
 dress." 
 
 " You must not judge by appearances " is the most 
 frequent precaution one hears in London ; and perhaps 
 one half of the credit given in this city is due to the 
 strength of • appearance. In passing the streets thousands 
 will value you with a coup d'ceil. It is surprising how 
 rapidly the eyes of those one meets will scrutinize your 
 personal appearance, and invariably fix on that part of 
 your dress which does you the least honor ! A man with 
 a hole in his stocking will meet with an insult at every 
 step, unless the eyes of the passengers are arrested by his 
 waistcoat or his breeches. Hence some gain a false 
 credit, while others receive a transient injury, from every 
 one they meet. So usual is it to annex a certain style 
 of appearance to certain characters, that, where the per- 
 sons are not known they are in danger of being taken 
 for impostors. A certain innkeeper between Oxford and 
 London had never seen Counsellor Garrow, but had 
 formed an idea of his personal appearance. Unfortunately 
 for Garrow, this innkeeper had decorated him with the 
 trappings of a Lord Mayor, and imagined a person very 
 different from plain Mr. Garrow. Mr. Garrow's carriage 
 breaking down in the neighboHiood of the innkeeper, the 
 owner endeavored to bargain for another to proceed to 
 London ; but the innkeeper hesitating to trust his own 
 carriage for the broken one, GaiTow unwittingly told his 
 name. " Counsellor Garrow," replied the innkeeper, 
 " might command anything in my house ; but I believe 
 you to be an arrant impostor, and will not trust you a 
 farthing." Whether this be true I know not, but I heard 
 Garrow tell it to embellish some case he was supporting. 
 
 This letter has become tedious : expect the remainder 
 in- my next ; for the present Adieu. 
 
264 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 London, June 4. 
 
 Glory docs not so sensibly affect the English as one might 
 imagine. If talents or valor be requited with money, they 
 seem little solicitous lo survive their bodies. They eat 
 parsley with their victuals. The sight of this jjlant.'so 
 sacred to the ancients, affects them as little as do turnips 
 or cabbages. 
 
 There is now a ballad-singer under mv window chanting 
 the praises of Nelson. The most characteristic couplet is 
 the following : — 
 
 ''Like a true British tar he sported while ashore, 
 Has spent all his mouey aud gone to sea for more." 
 
 Successful valor is scarcely to be censured, if the pres- 
 ent time command most of its attention ; trappings of honor, 
 splendor of appearance, joyful ovations arc the principal 
 rewards of valor. Bravery is a common virtue ; mankind 
 are naturally brave, and only become cowards when they 
 become effeminate. The successful exertion of mind co- 
 extends with time, operates through every grade of society, 
 and is felt through all ages. The man whose fame is to 
 be endless ought to feel himself the first among mortals, 
 whether, like Cleanthes, he works in a mill, or, like Anax- 
 archns, he is pounded in a mortar. 
 
 The glory of valor and of literature became a j)assion 
 with the Greeks and Romans, melting them sometimes to 
 tears, and sometimes depriving them of slccj). I know 
 nothing of the English, if the feelings of the jiresent age 
 are similar to those which influenced the great men -of 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 265 
 
 Greece and Rome. They seemed to be endued with a pure, 
 ethereal spirit, expansive as the light of heaven, and dis- 
 interested as the goddess of harvest. Even those who 
 knew not how to imitate them either paid in admiration or 
 detracted in envy. These feelings were, indeed, sometimes 
 carried to excess by the Stoics, but had their origin in 
 magnanimity. If a man can believe that poverty is not an 
 evil, and that pleasure may be extracted from pain itself, 
 he is doubtless a god among men, and may trample tempta- 
 tion under his feet. 
 
 Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, 
 Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum 
 Subjecifc pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari ! ^ 
 
 Can you believe it, my dear fellow, that there are char- 
 acters here to whom Greeks and Romans would have erected 
 altars, — men who would feel themselves honored in being 
 admitted among noblemen whose chief distinction might 
 perhaps be traced to the herald's office ? What a perver- 
 sion of Nature that mere matter should thus gain ascend- 
 ency over mind ! Nobler sentiments would have taught 
 them that the immortal exertion of mind ought to inspire 
 a slave, like Epictetus, with more magnanimity than the 
 worthless court of a worthless monarch ^ could boast. How 
 can you believe that there are those in England ready to 
 sell their names to works not their own ! 
 
 Most of the English, I suspect, would, like Congreve, 
 rather be esteemed " independent gentlemen " than authors 
 or philosophers, and would sell their tombs in Westminster 
 Abbey for a pair of buckskin breeches.'^ I might illustrate 
 this with numerous instances, but they are too well known 
 to you, and are disgraceful to the republic of letters. 
 
 1 Virgil, Georg. bk. ii. 
 
 2 Nero, under whom Epictetus flourished. 
 
 2 These are in the fashion both in summer and winter. 
 
2G6 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 The cause of this debasement of human dignity might 
 easily 1)C found ; rei)ublics and monarchies will ever exhibit 
 the hunuin mind under different aspects. Under the for- 
 mer an Aristippus will be an exception ; under the latter a 
 Wollstonecraft and a Jean Jacques Rousseau will be excep- 
 tions. It might be worth the labor to pursue this inquiry 
 from the time of the philosophers who ilourished while the 
 republics of Greece were in full vigor, to the period of the 
 Sophists, when liberty began to decline, thence down to 
 the pandering authors who sprung uj) under the thousand 
 petty monarchies. It would a{)pear that the government 
 of Greece through all its various stages, from liberty to 
 slavery, produced the like. Philosophers flourished with 
 liberty, sophists on its decline, and an abandoned set of 
 parasites on its catastrophe. Dignity, servility, truth, 
 falsehood, knowledge, ignorance, virtue, vice, — all flow 
 from the spirit of the government as naturally as the 
 stream flows from the fountain. Who could not discern 
 that Cicero wrote during the existence of the Roman re- 
 public, and that Horace wrote under a monarchy I Who 
 could not discern that Lord Bacon ^ at one period of his 
 life held the pen of a slave, wdiile Sydney, Harrington, 
 and Milton wrote during a resi)ite ! 
 
 In short, this passion for appearance, pardonable in the 
 glowworms of society, which shine only in the absence of 
 light, has not only infected both city and village, but has 
 pervaded the republic of letters, has tricked out jjhilosophy 
 in the garl) of the coxcomb, and sent her to dance attend- 
 ance on the great. 
 
 1 Lord Bacon, in speaking of James the First, in his Essay on the 
 r"haracter of Queen Elizabetli, says : " There remain two posthumous felici- 
 ties, which seem to attend the more noldc and august passages of her life; 
 the one is that of her successor, the other tiiat of hor memory. For she 
 has got sucli a successor, who tliough by liis masculine virtue and offspring, 
 and late accession to the throne, he may excel and eclipse her glory ; 
 yet, etc." 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 267 
 
 The remark must be qualified with many exceptions, 
 but I believe it will generally be found true that if this 
 people could have their choice of property or happiness, 
 they would prefer property and trust their happiness to 
 the fashion. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 London, June 16. 
 
 I DINED yesterday with Mr. L. 
 
 " And so," said he, " I have heard you say you esteem 
 the English more since you have seen them, but esteem 
 England less." Mr. L. then threw the gauntlet by ob- 
 serving : " The English form of government exhibits this 
 remarkable peculiarity, that while all other forms of gov- 
 ernment have deteriorated and become victims of their 
 own corruption, it is the fortune of the English Consti- 
 tution, — notwithstanding so many revolutions, which fre- 
 quently ruin what they are designed to mend, and the 
 constant collision of party, which as frequently either re- 
 laxes to imbecility or strains beyond the vigor of law, — 
 to stand at this day the wonder of the world." 
 
 In reply to this it was asked : " How does the govern- 
 ment operate on general happiness ? A government may 
 be excellent in theory, and yet its administration be a 
 mockery of its principles : that is, the government may 
 be nothing more than a form." 
 
 Mr. L. observed : " The theory of every government is 
 doubtless more pure than its administration ; the sublimcst 
 principles become sullied in their descent to common life ; 
 but the English Constitution has provided a remedy for 
 
268 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 every wrong, and brought that remedy home to every 
 Englisliman's door." 
 
 " What, sir, is your definition of the best form of 
 government ? " 
 
 " That," replied Mr. L., " which operates most exten- 
 sively on general happiness." 
 
 " What, then, sir, may be the proportion between the 
 rich and the poor in England?" 
 
 " Whom do you term poor ? " 
 
 " All those whose daily industry produces only their 
 daily bread, and leaves them at the end as destitute as they 
 were at the beginning of the year ; not only those who have 
 not bread to eat, but all those whose daily labor enriches 
 others, while it affords only a scanty subsistence to them- 
 selves." 
 
 Madam L. observed, " Such were not considered poor 
 in England, and you are in a fair way to conclude that 
 we arc a nation of beggars." 
 
 Mr. L. replied, " Perhaps, four fifths of the peoi)le would 
 come under this description of poor." 1 then asked, " What 
 was the proportion in the reign of Henry the Eighth when 
 the pleasure of the king was the law of the land, — greater 
 or less ? " 
 
 " There was, doubtless, then," said Mr. L., " a more equal 
 state of things, for society was not so complicated as at 
 present ; the largest possessions did not exert so dangerous 
 and oppressive an influence ; the desire of acquisition had 
 not thrust out of doors the liberal, chivalrous spirit of 
 hospitality." 
 
 " Nor," added I, " had commerce and manufactures en- 
 riched a few at the expense of the many." 
 
 " But what is your view," said Mr. L., " comjiaring the 
 present state of society with the past? " 
 
 " Wliy, the English would be willing to excliange the 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 269 
 
 reign of his present Majesty for that of Henry the 
 Eighth." 
 
 " Nay, sir, the spirit of the modern English would not 
 tolerate a tyrant like Henry on the throne ; and if there be 
 at present less general happiness in England than there 
 was in the days of Henry the Eighth, it is not to be attrib- 
 uted to the pernicious influence of the Constitution of 1692, 
 but to the national debt." 
 
 " Very plausible," I replied ; " but suppose the English 
 free from debt. If your king happen to be a weak monarch, 
 he falls into the hands of a minister, — the consequence of 
 this let Walpole, Bute, and North answer ; if he happen to 
 be an Edward First, an Edward Third, or Henry the Fifth, 
 and capable of governing per se without a minister, your 
 Constitution is pro tempore annulled, for he must be a 
 very weak prince who is not stronger than that Constitu- 
 tion which thwarts his wishes. A James the Second, I 
 readily admit, ought not to attempt an usurpation on the 
 Constitution ; but a bold prince, nay, a woman, like ' good 
 queen Bess,' might use the Constitution as she did the Earl 
 of Essex, — flatter it when pleased, and discard it when 
 jealous. Indeed, I hazard a doubt if your boasted Consti- 
 tution has ever had a trial of its strength." 
 
 " But," said Mr. L., " you seem to be ignorant, sir, that 
 the English have a House of Commons, — the protector of 
 the Constitutional rights of the subject, the watchful guar- 
 dian of the interests of the people, without whose consent 
 not a farthing can be levied ; this is the glorious bulwark 
 of an Englishman's liberty. This inestimable popular 
 branch of the government was peculiar to England until 
 the wisdom of your own legislators adopted it under the 
 name of a House of Representatives." 
 
 " Your House of Commons, I concede, has been a very 
 economical guardian of the interests of the people ; since 
 
270 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 the commencement of the last century, it has involved them 
 in a debt of only five hundred and fifty millions. Your 
 House of Commons is the most convenient thing imagin- 
 able for a Chancellor of the Exchecjuer ; it affords him 
 color for those measures which might have cost former 
 ministers their heads. Hence, one of them in imitation of 
 the Roman said : ' Money and votes are equally necessary, 
 for with money I can purchase votes, and with votes raise 
 money.' " 
 
 Mr. L. replied : " This national debt, which so much 
 alarms you, is not only an imaginary evil, but a positive 
 good : it consolidates the strength of the nation. The 
 riches of the country have increased with its debt, and at 
 this moment she is as competent to pay the interest as she 
 was in the days of George the First or George the Second." 
 
 I observed : " If the landholders and the merchants 
 should divide between them the burden of the national 
 debt there might not be so much cause for complaint ; 
 but the whole burden falls on the poor." 
 
 " How do you make that appear ? " said Mr. L. 
 
 " It is sufficiently evident ; for there can be no possible 
 proportion between that tax which levies one hundred 
 pounds on him who will never feel the remotest inconven- 
 ience from the imposition, and that which levies only six- 
 pence on him who will suffer the deprivation of a single 
 dinner, or work two extra hours, in consequence of the 
 tax ; and this is equally true whether the tax be direct or 
 indirect. Therefore, your national debt does impoverish 
 the country, and chain the poor to hopeless poverty. It is 
 a tyrant whom no law can bind, no weapon reach, no sub- 
 mission soften, no condition escape ; a new species of mon- 
 ster, which would collect within itself the whole world, and 
 then sink beneath its own weight." 
 
 " But," said Mr. L., " what nation under heaven ever dis- 
 
LETTEES FEOM LONDON. 271 
 
 criminated in this manner between the rich and the poor ? 
 It is utterly impossible, if the taxes be indirect. Do 
 they, in your country, discriminate between the rich and 
 the poor ? " 
 
 Thus Mr. L. turned my eyes on our own country. Cer- 
 tainly, ray dear fellow, it is one of the first principles, and 
 it ought to be the operation of our Constitution, to check 
 the tendency of inequality, to burden those least whose 
 doors open with a wooden latch, to facilitate the endeavors 
 of industry, and to discountenance the redundancy of 
 wealth. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 LoNDOx, June 27. 
 
 There is no description of people in England holden in 
 less respect than the Quakers ; yet I have seen no sect in 
 this country with whom I have been more pleased. The 
 cause of this dislike lies very deep. In a corrupted state 
 of society, those who approach nearest to first principles 
 will forever be objects of dislike, if not of abhorrence, with 
 the rest of the community ; for the latter will naturally 
 hate those who differ from them in so many important 
 points, and who not only differ from them, but interfere 
 with their immediate interests. 
 
 With respect to the rest of the world, the Quakers cer- 
 tainly are a hopeless and barren set of people. They hate 
 in equal degree both kings and priests. Their consciences 
 revolt at tithes in any shape ; therefore the clergy hate 
 them. Their own meditations serve them instead of 
 preaching ; therefore the religious of most other denomi- 
 nations dislike them. Their temperance laughs at the 
 
272 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 physician, and their honesty starves the lawyer, while their 
 prudence and foresight exalt them above the active, in- 
 jurious hatred of the world, and elevate them above those 
 who despise them. Their decency of carriage, their un- 
 assuming manners, their habitual economy, and their 
 general spirit of equity, have long, and will perhaps for- 
 ever connect them in a body as lasting as their present 
 maxims. 
 
 There is one characteristic which distinguishes the 
 Quakers from all other sects. They exhibit nothing of 
 the spirit of proselytism ; their favorite sentiments par- 
 take not of enthusiasm ; they hurl no damnation on the 
 rest of the world. Tolerant of everybody, they consider 
 all honest men their brethren. There is not a single trait 
 in their character which is incentive to ill-will, nor a move- 
 ment in their conduct which has ever courted persecution. 
 Their humility has never resisted even opjiression ; patient 
 in suffering, they are active only in support of their prin- 
 ciples. Remote from all hypocrisy, they have never 
 sought after temporal power, nor has their own system 
 ever operated to the prejudice of others. Yet this sect 
 has been persecuted and its members put to death ! This 
 is the blackest stigma on human nature with which the 
 annals of politics or religion have been stained. 
 
 Though tlic Quakers live under a monarchy they have 
 contrived, without the aid of temporal favors, to erect 
 themselves into a government of their own, approaching 
 as near to a rcpul)lic as is consistent with any sort of allegi- 
 ance to the national government. This is a masterpiece of 
 policy, which has gained them a firm standing in the midst 
 of their enemies, and which ought to teach the rest ofman- 
 kind that it is practicable for a virtuous, persevering few 
 to counteract the many. The Quakers have contrived to 
 render themselves happy in the midst of misery, and free, 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 273 
 
 in a great measure, in the midst of slavery. Hence, they 
 have all that natural, unaffected dignity, and all that 
 manly, cordial spirit of accommodation which man shows 
 to man before he becomes degenerate ; and hence, they re- 
 gard mankind pretty much as that Cherokee did, who, being 
 introduced at Paris and shown everything which was sup- 
 posed capable of delighting or surprising him, was asked, 
 after his eyes had devoured the objects of a whole week's 
 exhibition, what astonished him most. He answered, 
 " The difference between man and man ; " and then being 
 asked with what he was most delighted, he replied, " I was 
 most delighted to see a passenger help to carry a heavy 
 burden which he saw upon the back of another." 
 
 Although the Quakers approach nearer to the religion of 
 Nature, notwithstanding their correspondence with the 
 world, than any systematic sect which has ever appeared, 
 they still hold to the great principles of the Christian religion, 
 though in point of " orthodoxy " they can hardly be termed 
 Christians. Most other religious persons, whether east- 
 ern sages or western saints, have retired from the world in 
 the degree they have approached Brahma or Jesus, while the 
 Quakers, contented with this world until they can find a 
 better, have found the secret of living in the midst of so- 
 ciety, and of mingling as much of this world as is consistent 
 with heaven, and as much of heaven as is consistent with 
 making the most of this world. 
 
 I have been led to these observations from a circum- 
 stance which occurred yesterday. I found on my table 
 the following printed notice : " Some of the people called 
 Quakers, intend to hold a meeting this evening, at their 
 place of worship, in Martin's Court, St. Martin's Lane, to 
 which the neighbours are invited." In expectation of 
 something extraordinary, I attended. At the door I was 
 received by one of the Friends, who introduced me to a seat 
 
 18 
 
274 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 among the cklcrs. The house was soon filled, and a pro- 
 found silence reigned for a few minutes, when one of the 
 bretlircn rose and began to speak, but he had not spoken 
 a minute, when an elder said, " We would take it kind of 
 thee, friend, to sit down." The speaker looked up to 
 see whence the disapprobation proceeded, then bowing in 
 acquiescence, sat down. Presently a fine-looking elderly 
 lady of matronly appearance, dressed in the most elegant 
 simplicity, rose, and after a warm and impressive prayer, 
 delivered extempore an animated and edifying discourse 
 with a flow of elocution and grace of manner, which, had 
 she been forty years younger, might have inflamed those 
 passions she sought to allay. 
 
 There is one defect in the polity of the Quakers, which 
 will forever subject them to the tyranny of the times, — 
 they love peace so well that they will not even fight for 
 their liberty. This known principle divests them of all 
 political consequence when those great political movements 
 are agitated which sometimes involve the deepest conse- 
 quences to society. Otherwise, the Quakers would gradu- 
 ally effect a revolution throughout the world. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 London, .Tuly 0. 
 It is the custom of some of the London l)ooksellers to 
 give weekly dinners to their literary and other friends. 
 Hence you sometimes find at the same table, characters 
 who would never have met except under the auspices of 
 roast beef and Madeira wine. It was these whicli brouglit 
 together "Jack Wilkes and the venerable Samuel Johnson." 
 
LETTERS FROxM LONDON. 275 
 
 A bookseller's dinner is doubly a treat to his guests. It 
 offers an indirect but agreeable compliment, by telling 
 them their own fame has enabled him to treat them so 
 sumptuously. 
 
 The republic of letters is never more respectable than on 
 those occasions of good humor and liberal mirth, when all 
 the arts and sciences find themselves encircled round the 
 festive board. The man who is in the habit of associating 
 with his enemy will frequently finish by esteeming him. 
 Mr. Malthus, who, in opposition to the " Political Justice," 
 has written an essay on the " Principle of Population," a 
 work of some fame, was lately seated at a bookseller's 
 dinner next to Mr. Godwin. 
 
 Yesterday, I found myself at Mr. Johnson's, the booksel- 
 ler, in St. Paul's Churchyard, where, among those to 
 whom I was introduced, was Fuseli the painter, and a 
 Scotch gentleman who is publishing in Scotland a new 
 edition of Ossian in the " original language." 
 
 The English don't say much at the table till the first 
 course is finished ; but their manner of eating soon throws 
 them into a gentle fever which invites to sociability when 
 they have sufficient confidence in the company. Mr. 
 Bonnycastle contributed not a little to the entertainment ; 
 though remarkably merry, I suspect he is a matliematician, 
 for he remarked that "the ball on the top of St. Paul's 
 would appear ten times larger if placed on the ground at 
 the same distance." The difference in the medium of 
 vision was concluded to be the cause of this ; but one of 
 the company, who thought it much easier to be certain of a 
 thing than to ascertain its truth, proposed to Mr. Bonny- 
 castle to go and measure the circumference of the ball and 
 then make the experiment. 
 
 Fuseli was the life of the entertainment. Ready on all 
 occasions, his happy combination of language joined to his 
 
276 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 emphatic manner, bordering hard on dogmatism, together 
 with his dec]) insight into human nature, renders him an 
 oracle wherever lie goes. This is the same Fuseli to whom 
 Lavater dedicated his " Aphorisms." His first publication 
 was a romantic essay on the principal works of Rousseau, 
 written, as Mr. Johnson, the publisher, informs me, forty 
 years since ; and from that time to the present he has 
 published nothing except his professional lectures.^ Fuseli 
 was brought up in the family of Lavater, and caught 
 from the latter not a little of the enthusiasm of his char- 
 acter. He spoke of Lavater with reverence and affection, 
 and seemed gratified with my marks of respect for the 
 memory of that original sage. One of the company related 
 the following anecdote of Lavater : " A Swiss lady waited 
 on him to request his opinion of her. Lavater observed 
 her a considerable time, and promised he would send her a 
 written character. The contents of his letter were, ' Very 
 pretty, very silly.'" I remarked that "pretty" had no 
 relation to character, and if it had, Lavatcr's style of con- 
 duct was very remote from such trifling. Fuseli nodded 
 assent, and said that the author of the anecdote knew 
 nothing of Lavater's character. 
 
 There must have been a conflict in the mind of Fuseli, 
 between the painter and the author, but the painter got the 
 ascendency, and claims a large portion of the sublimity of 
 his character. However, I am inclined to believe he some- 
 times regrets that he has preferred the temporary and lim- 
 ited fame of the brush to the more durable and extensive 
 expression of the pen ; for his conversation shows all the 
 correctness of the scholar with the enthusiasm of original 
 sentiment. His profession has naturally UmI him to history, 
 which he seems to have explored with the jealous eye of 
 incredulity. 
 
 * Fuseli ia Professor of Painting in the Royal Academy. 
 
LETTEKS FROM LONDON. 277 
 
 The character of Julian was accidentally remarked upon 
 by one of the company. Julian, whom his enemies have 
 attempted to depreciate with the name of Apostate, has 
 always been a favorite of mine, on account of his justice, 
 valor, constancy in adversity, and moderation in command. 
 But Fuseli, I perceived, regarded Julian with more than 
 dislike, — with abhorrence ; and when I volunteered in 
 his defence, and appealed to the " Decline and Fall of the 
 Roman Empire," he put me down by saying that '' Ammi- 
 anus Marcellinus, the historical authority of Gibbon, had 
 drawn a very different character of Julian from that exhib- 
 ited in the 'Decline and Fall.' The worst traits in his 
 character are concealed, and the best embellished by Gib- 
 bon, who, fond of Julian, was afraid of spoiling his hero by 
 giving him his just character." However, Gibbon is not 
 the only historian who has taken delight in celebrating 
 the virtues, the wisdom, and the valor of Julian ; and I 
 am yet to be persuaded that Julian the Apostate was not 
 a fine fellow, and worth all the holy Fathers who 
 have worn a tiara. 
 
 The features of Fuseli are as strongly marked as if they 
 had been cut in marble ; but his character, which I suspect 
 is naturally violent, seems tempered with philosophy and 
 adorned with an exquisite taste. Eccentric from his cra- 
 dle, age has taken nothing from the impetuosity of his con- 
 ceptions, which by turns dazzle, elevate, and astonish. It 
 is now a profound remark, then general satire, and pres- 
 ently a romantic excursion. In all the relations of life, 
 in short, Fuseli is a respectable man. 
 
 The Scotch gentleman, who is publishing Ossian in the 
 " original language," had come to London to mortgage a 
 large quantity of Scotch land. One of the company at 
 dinner whispered, " He ought to have gone to Norway 
 or Lapland ; there Scotch lands might be praised." 
 
278 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 The new edition of Ossian gave rise to several obser- 
 vations. 1 endeavored to obtain Fuseli's opinion of the 
 authority of those poems, but was prevented by the rapid- 
 ity of his conversation, lie seemed to treat the poems 
 witii no great respect, and at length let off a shot at the 
 whole clan of Scotch poets, by roundly asserting that all 
 the Scotch rhymers put together would not amount to half 
 a poet. Fuseli, I discovered, would allow no man to be a 
 poet wlio is not in tlic hal^it of attaining to the sublime. 
 He himself deals altogether in the sublime of painting. 
 He has even attempted the sublime in the three witches in 
 Macbeth. But if the object of the various kinds of poetry 
 be to please, to enrapture, to soothe, to elevate, he is a true 
 poet who can attain his object in either way. The Greeks 
 were not so nice : Anacreon. Theocritus, and Pindar were 
 acknowledged by all Greece. Then why should Allan 
 Ramsay, Thompson, and Burns be questioned ? For my 
 part, I should be loath to see the more humble Beattie 
 whipped from Parnassus. 
 
 It seemed to be the opinion of the Scotch gentleman 
 that if the "original language" was printed with the trans- 
 lation of Ossian, every doubt respecting the authority of the 
 poems would be silenced. I suggested the possibility that 
 the " original language " might have been translated from 
 Macpherson's Ossian, and if so, the fact would probably 
 raise another storm of criticism. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 279 
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 London, July 20. 
 
 An excursion at this season of the year to Oxford, on 
 foot, with an intelligent companion, will afford all that 
 the charms of Nature can give, in addition to what one 
 may collect as a tourist. 
 
 Having procured a letter of introduction to Mr. Portall, 
 a fellow of St. John's, Oxford, we proceeded by the way of 
 Windsor, the summer residence of their Majesties. Nine 
 miles from the city, on the road to Windsor, is Turnhara 
 Green ; here dwells the venerable Dr. Griffiths,^ the pro- 
 jector of the " Monthly Review." Having formerly been 
 introduced, and received by him with the affectionate com- 
 pliment that he had " a reverence for the citizens of the 
 United States," we called on this literary patriarch, and 
 ran over fifty years in about an hour and a half. Sociable, 
 as most old men are when you have their confidence, and 
 highly interesting, by having at command the cream of all 
 the literature and the connecting anecdotes of the last 
 half century. Dr. Griffiths requires only your attention to 
 carry you into the " greenroom " of the republic of letters. 
 Fortunately for most celebrated authors, their books live, 
 and their memories perish ; otherwise the glory of their 
 names would rarely save their characters from contempt. 
 
 I asked him if David Hume did not formerly reside in 
 that vicinity, and if he was acquainted with that writer. 
 Dr. Griffiths pointed from the window to the house in 
 which Hume resided while at Turnham Green. He added : 
 " Both Hume and Rousseau have spent many an hour in 
 1 Lately deceased. 
 
280 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 this room." I was transported by the fact that I was 
 conversing with a man who had been intimate with Rous- 
 seau, and I was anxious to collect every particular respect- 
 ing that wonderful character. 
 
 Dr. Griffiths thought Rousseau knew the human heart 
 much better in the closet than he did in the world, which, 
 notwithstanding the goodness of his heart, led him to ex- 
 hibit — " 
 
 " Then," I added, interrupting him, " he had an excel- 
 lent heart ? " 
 
 " — which, not withstanding the goodness of his heart," 
 repeated the doctor, " frequently led him to exhibit a jeal- 
 ousy, which rendered it extremely difficult for people to 
 accommodate themselves to him." 
 
 " But, sir, this jealousy was nothing more than the 
 excess of sensibility ; it did not originate in envy ? " 
 
 " No ; who was there for Rousseau to envy ? Rousseau 
 envied no man." 
 
 " But," 1 added, " Voltaire, I suspect, envied Rousseau." 
 
 " No wonder," said the doctor ; " the world gave A'ol- 
 taire a rival, and Voltaire had not sufficient magnanimity 
 to admire a man who like Minerva sprung full-grown 
 from the head of Jupiter, and who seemed to usurp part 
 of that temple in which A'oltairc alone had been so long 
 worshii)ped." 
 
 I asked the doctor, " How did Rousseau spend his time 
 when he visited you ? " 
 
 " As little like a philosopher," he replied, " as you can 
 imagine. He had a small sagacious dog called Cupid, 
 that always followed him. Whenever Rousseau was urged 
 to converse on subjects either disagreeable or fatiguing to 
 him, he would begin to sing ; at the same moment Cupid 
 would begin to dnncc, — and thus Rousseau would fre- 
 (piently spend two hours, excepting those short intervals 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 281 
 
 when Cupid would make a blunder, and then his master 
 would fall a-laughing. In this manner would the philos- 
 opher of Ermenonville spend many an hour in that window- 
 seat, while he resided in this town with Hume." 
 
 We left this civil old gentleman, who made us promise 
 to come and eat a bit of mutton with him, and proceeded 
 to Windsor. The castle is on a high hill of gentle ascent, 
 and from the Round Tower commands a fine prospect of 
 not less than twelve counties. But nothing gave me 
 more pleasure than the view of Runnymead, so memorable 
 for the extortion of Magna Charta from King John, — if a 
 natural right can ever be said to be extorted. It is a pity 
 that every royal castle has not a Runnymead in sight. I 
 observed that the keeper, who pointed out the places of 
 most note, passed his eye over this famous campaign. 
 Within a short distance and seemingly within reach, stands 
 Eton College, noted for good classical scholars. The hills, 
 covered with wheat, which was quite ripe and promised 
 a golden harvest, the stately oaks, and trees of less growth 
 variegated the face of Nature ; while the brute creation 
 grazing at large in the neighboring plains, the calmness of 
 the scene around, the approaching decline of day, together 
 with the curling smoke from the fire-hearths of many vil- 
 lages, inspired a serenity of mind which was fast approach- 
 ing to a religious revery, when a beggar ^ who had followed 
 us up to the Round Tower broke the charm. 
 
 The castle is ornamented with many fine paintings, 
 among which the cartoons of Raphael were shown to us. 
 Of course I admired them, not that I know an original from 
 a copy ; I only aspire to judge of the design and execution, 
 of the moral or humor of the piece, or whether it be true to 
 Nature ; and every one can do this. The cartoons are so 
 called by way of eminence, to distinguish six of Raphael's 
 
 1 The royal waiter who admitted us to the castle. 
 
282 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 large paintings, the subjects of which arc taken from inter- 
 esting ])assagcs of the New Testament, whence most of the 
 subjects of the Italian masters ai'c taken. 
 
 You, in the United States, know nothing of the rap- 
 tures which fine paintings are capable of raising in the 
 arms, face, and shoulders of real amateurs. A man is 
 scarcely a critic unless he can expire in convulsions or 
 become petrified with astonishment at the sight of a fine 
 new painting. At the late annual exliibition at the 
 Royal Academy, I observed a gentleman examining very 
 attentively one of Turner's recent paintings. For my 
 part, I had visited all the rooms and was about to retire 
 when I saw the same man fixed in the same place and con- 
 templating the same portrait. I ventured to inquire of him 
 what he saw in that portrait, which commanded so much of 
 his attention. " See ! " exclaimed he, " I see something 
 that looks a little like painting ! I wish I was chained to 
 that portrait!" I told him that Lord Thurlow^ would have 
 no objection to that, as he was fond of chains and slavery. 
 
 I lately visited a small collection of pictures, wliich cost 
 the proprietor X 20,000. He had formerly made the tour 
 of Europe in search of paintings, and was then gone to 
 Italy to purcliase more. Two of the pictures, called by 
 way of eminence the Murillos, which cost him £4,000 
 sterling, would scarcely sell at a Boston vendue for so 
 many pence, — only because we do not know the worth of 
 pictures. However, if the allluent have no worse passion 
 than a passion for fine paintings, let them enjoy both by 
 day and night their sleeping Yenuses, or wanton with the 
 houris over the landscapes of Claude Lorrain. 
 
 The time now aj)])roached when it was expected that the 
 royal family would walk on the terrace. Tlie terrace is 
 situate on tlie declivity of the hill southeasterly from the 
 
 1 It was a most striking likeness of Lord TlmrlDw. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 283 
 
 castle. It is a charming walk, faced with freestone, and, 
 as I judge, is nearly two thousand feet in length. Here, in 
 fine weather, their Majesties with the princes and prin- 
 cesses, accompanied by a band of musicians, graciously 
 walk at six o'clock in the evening to show themselves to 
 strangers. Behind the royal family came several lords in 
 waiting whom I stupidly mistook for liveried servants ; so 
 nearly allied, sometimes, is the height of greatness to the 
 height of meanness. There were as many as a hundred 
 strangers who lined the terrace to view this royal exhibi- 
 tion. As his Majesty passed by they stood uncovered, he 
 himself frequently bowing to the spectators. 
 
 The same evening we proceeded to Maidenhead. A 
 sound sleep would have been highly agreeable, but like all 
 strangers who tarry in that town, we were compelled to lie 
 awake. At every half-hour a watchman crying the time 
 of night passed under my window, and what made the 
 matter worse he tagged every thirty minutes with " Praise 
 the Lord ! Amen ! " A monkish relic, I suppose. 
 
 Our landlord, one of the most civil men in the world, 
 had risen before us and seemed really sorry to have us go 
 before breakfast. The English inns are certainly the most 
 accommodating places in the world ; two knocks on the 
 table will immediately produce all the effects of magic. 
 1 have never met in England but one innkeeper who 
 did not appear to be a gentleman. This was at Newbury. 
 It is the custom for most of the English to drink at every 
 inn at which a stage stops. As the English travel day and 
 night, a passenger will sometimes drink about twelve times 
 in the twenty-four hours, besides what he drinks at dinner. 
 The landlord, having waited on those who were most 
 pressing for drink, at length came up to one of the pas- 
 sengers and asked him what he would have. The pas- 
 senger assured him that he had drunk five times since 
 
284 LETTERS FKOM LONDON. 
 
 dinner, and could not venture on any more. " But then," 
 said the landlord, " what shall 1 make by you ? " •■' Oh, sir, 
 you shall lose nothing by me," replied the passenger; '-if 
 you will be so good as to deduct from a pint of porter the 
 original cost and duties, I will pay you the diU'erence 
 between that amount and the retail j^rice." 
 
 AVe breakfasted at Henley, a considerable countiT town ; 
 and while breakfast was preparing, 1 went into a neighbor- 
 ing churchyard — the place of most interest in many 
 country towns — to read the epitaphs, some of which were 
 highly impressive, though written in very bad taste. Pos- 
 sibly without knowing it, the writers of these epitaphs 
 sometimes hit upon the sublime of human character. The 
 following epitaph I met with in a country village : " Here 
 lies the body of Henry Steele. He was a good son and a 
 good brother, a good husband and a good father ; and the 
 neighbors all followed him to his grave." 
 
 Between Henley and Oxford, the prospects, scenery, and 
 cultivation, the ripe and abundant harvest of wheat, the 
 mellow temperature of the season, — all conspired to 
 enhance those pleasures which liberal Nature offers to the 
 senses. 
 
 " Surely," said I, " this is a delightful country ! " 
 "Yes," replied my companion, "but finish your rhapsody 
 quickly, or it will end in a sarcasm." I looked up and 
 saw at a distance a company of gleaners approaching, 
 with their arms full of sheaves. "There," said he, " your 
 first reflection will be that, although Providence has lav- 
 ished an abundant harvest, this little company of gleaners 
 will scarcely have in winter bread enough, while the grana- 
 ries, in mockery of Ceres, will hold much of this wheat 
 until it rots. But who can help it, if monopolizers frus- 
 trate God's providence ? " 
 
 As the gleaners passed by, I asked one of them why 
 
LETTERS FEOM LONDON. 285 
 
 they went so far to glean, when the reapers were so busy 
 all around. " Oh, sir," said another of the company who 
 seemed to be the brightest, " it is not every farmer that 
 permits us to glean, nor is it a favor granted to every 
 one." 
 
 We passed on. " Ah," said my fellow-traveller, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders in raillery, " this would be a charming 
 country if there -were no men in it ! " 
 
 In the evening we arrived at Oxford, an inland city, 
 about sixty miles northwesterly from London, and famous 
 all over the world as a nursery of great men and great 
 scholars. Oxford particularly is an object of curiosity on 
 account of the variety of Gothic architecture. The col- 
 leges, twenty in number, are very large, and some of them 
 are noble buildings in the Gothic style. Separated from 
 one another at considerable distance, they give the city a 
 most venerable and solemn aspect. Oxford too has the 
 happiness of being visited by the Thames, of all rivers in 
 the world the most adored by Englishmen. The Hindoos 
 do not hold the Ganges in higher veneration than do the 
 English this river, and should they become idolaters they 
 would pay divine honors to silver Thames. The Cherwell, 
 too, and the more humble Isis are in the neighborhood 
 of Oxford. 
 
 In the morning we waited on Mr. Portall. I cannot 
 express to you how cordially he received us ; he gave us 
 two days of unwearied attention. He is a ripe scholar 
 and, what is more, a man of good sense. He seemed to 
 partake of the satisfaction he afforded in showing us every- 
 thing remarkable in the different colleges, which he ren- 
 dered doubly impressive by adding all the interesting 
 particulars which have been collecting for ages. 
 
 The Bodleian Library, the largest in the world except 
 that of the Vatican at Rome, contains many precious, 
 
28G LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 unilliimincd manuscripts, ^vhich no doubt in the course 
 of centuries will enrapture many an antiquary, as will the 
 Arundclian marbles lately arrived from the East. These 
 fragments were imported at great expense; and probably 
 when the inscriptions are deciphered, it will be found that 
 they amount to nothing more than some loose cou])lets to 
 a favorite mistress, or what is more pernicious, that they 
 record the apotheosis of some tyrant. 
 
 Some of these manuscripts are so exceedingly obscure 
 that it is not yet ascertained in what language they are 
 written. It is told with considerable humor that one of 
 them was presented to a famous antiquary, who after six 
 months returned it, giving his serious opinion that the 
 manuscript was a ramification of a branch of a dialect 
 of the language which was spoken by the northern Huns 
 who broke down the Great Wall of China ! 
 
 This immense library was to me a source of various re- 
 flection. " Here," thought I, " is collected not a little of 
 the nonsense of the days of monkery, much of the truth 
 and falsehood of antiquity, the romantic extravagance of 
 the days of chivalry, ' whicli now, alas, are gone forever ! ' 
 and the more dangerous, because more subtle, dictates of 
 modern tyranny." The wonderful exertion of the human 
 mind whicli this library displays produced a mingled emo- 
 tion of admiration, pity, and contempt for the sublimity, 
 perversion, and meanness of the race of ])hiloso]>hers and 
 authors. Nine tenths of the volumes here laid uj) in liter- 
 ary penance ought to have sent their authors to bedlam ; 
 for every famous book filled with more errors than truths 
 adds a new link to the chain of error. Notwithstanding 
 truth is eternal, and error temporary, yet owing to self- 
 interest, passion, and wrong-headedncss, there are in all 
 countries ten errors published for every one truth ; hence 
 we ought not to wonder at the doubt in whicli men of 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 287 
 
 sense are involved, nor at the inconsistencies into which 
 the thoughtless fall. Truth and error are at first received 
 by mankind with equal credit, and when these ten errors 
 are discovered the solitary truth is not secure, for out of 
 mere resentment the errors turn persecutors. 
 
 Your fancy cannot figure, either in Arcadia or in imag- 
 inary Parnassus, more charming retreats for contemplation, 
 or more inspiring recesses for prosecuting lofty composi- 
 tion than those afforded by the secluded gardens of the 
 colleges. Here the peripatetics might have forgotten 
 their favorite wallas, or the more refined Epicurus and 
 his disciples their earthly paradise. Here Art has success- 
 fully introduced the varieties of Nature, and administers 
 to the senses at the same time she expands the heart and 
 elevates the mind. No wonder this is classic ground ; no 
 wonder this University is the nursery of so many veterans 
 in the republic of letters. "Whether they prefer to contem- 
 plate mankind, explore Nature through the various forma- 
 tion and use of the leaf, or, leaving the garden, to ascend to 
 the heavens, they have within their reach every assistance 
 to establish truth or confute error. Oxford has at present 
 fifteen hundred students. 
 
 Here is the largest collection of paintings by the great 
 masters which I have ever seen. Some of the more public 
 apartments of the colleges seem to revive the Italian and 
 Flemish schools. Nor do the Dutch make an awkward 
 appearance among the more southern artists, although a 
 Dutchman rarely considers his painting finished until he 
 has introduced a dirty table, with pipes, tobacco, and a 
 pot of Geneva, together with a fishing-smack in a fresh 
 breeze ; but if the latter cannot be introduced the artist is 
 content to hang up a large ham and several pounds of 
 Bologna sausages over the fireplace. 
 
 At four o'clock we dined at St. John's with Mr. Portall 
 
288 LETTERS FiiOM LONDON. 
 
 and several other Fellows of that college. The apartment 
 was decent and the furniture elegant. The dinner was per- 
 haps too suinj)tuous and gross for those who are laboring 
 up the hill of science. According to custom, or more j)rob- 
 ably as a compliment to the guests, dinner was, scarcely 
 ended when coffee was introduced, and immediately after 
 that supper was on the table ; so we did not rise from din- 
 ner, coffee, and supper until nearly ten o'clock. If these 
 are usual habits, Aristipjms would be found there much 
 oftencr than Zeno. During the entertainment, questions 
 were naturally multiplied respecting our own country. The 
 company seemed delighted to hear that their own great 
 men were perhaps more generally known and read in the 
 United States than in England. It was a romantic pleas- 
 ure to imagine the reverberating echoes of their own 
 labors in what they were pleased to term the wilderness. 
 They were not a little surprised when I told them that 
 there were no cities in England, excepting London, which 
 could vie with New York, Philadelphia, or even Boston. A 
 regret was expressed that we arc no longer one peoi)le. I 
 laughingly told them that this is their own fault, for doubt- 
 less tlie United States would accept them as a colony. 
 
 After a morning excursion along the banks of the Isis, 
 a stream made sacred by the poems of Mason and Warton, 
 we took our leave of Mr. Portall, who now added those 
 cordialities which gave a double interest to his warm recep- 
 tion of us. 
 
 We proceeded to Woodstock, about eight miles from Ox- 
 ford, to take a view of Blenheim House, the seat of the 
 Duke of Marlborough. On our way thither we stopped at 
 a cottage to buy a draught of beer. There was only an 
 elderly woman witli her daughter at home ; the latter of 
 whom appeared to be ten years of age, and was sitting at 
 a table learning to write. The mother regarded us with- 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 289 
 
 out the least curiosity, but seemed gratified when we ex- 
 amined the little girl's writing-book, and offered to mend 
 her pens and set her some new copies ; those from wliich 
 she was writing being very little better than her own at- 
 tempts. When we had ruled her book through, and set 
 her more than twenty copies, she was highly pleased with 
 the fairness of the writing, and showing it to her mother, 
 said, " John himself cannot write half so well." This in- 
 cident is not otherwise worthy of notice than by way of 
 comparison. This woman lived in rustic retirement, and 
 saw less of the world than if she lived in a village ; yet 
 though we were travelling on foot, an unusual sight in 
 England, and presumed to enter a private dwelling-house 
 with no other view than to buy a draught of beer, a suspi- 
 cious circumstance, this good woman eyed us with no at- 
 tention, asked us no questions, and courted no knowledge 
 of our pursuit. How different in our own country ! In 
 such a case the good woman would first inquire whence 
 we came, and whither we were going, and what might be 
 our business. Then she would contrive to find out our 
 names. Then, pausing a moment to recollect if she knew, 
 or had ever heard of the names before, she would ask if 
 our grandfathers or grandmothers were not related to Mr. 
 or Mrs. Such-a-one. This would naturally lead to all the 
 good woman knew. 
 
 "Woodstock is doubly famous on account both of the 
 past and the present. Here Geoffrey Chaucer was born, 
 and here he spent most of his days ; but in vain I looked 
 for that door-stone which one of our own bards has so 
 happily imagined : — 
 
 " Chaucer on his door-stone sits and sings, 
 And tells his merry tales of knights and kings." 
 
 Woodstock is famous at present for being the seat of 
 
 19 
 
290 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 the Duke of Marlborough, and for gentlemen's fashion- 
 able gloves and steel wutch-chains. 
 
 At the great gate of the ample domain of his Grace 
 ■\ve were received by one of those persons, powdered for 
 the occasion, whom you so frequently find in the service 
 of great men. He was an elderly man, who in the course 
 of perhaps forty years had accumulated ten thousand par- 
 ticulars respecting this country-seat, and which he had 
 told ten thousand times, pi'obably without the least varia- 
 tion. Thus : " Do, pray, gentlemen, take a view of the 
 river from this artificial eminence ; see how it opens upon 
 that lawn, how picturesque that little wilderness of trees. 
 Now cast your eye a little to the right, and observe that 
 island, seemingly afloat ; turn a step to the left and see 
 the monument, — you have certainly heard of that monu- 
 ment, how it breaks upon you when it is seen from the 
 other side of the river, while the trees seem suddenly to 
 retire. Fair Rosamond lived yonder, — you have certainly 
 lieard of Fair Rosamond." In the same manner he ran 
 over everything which concerned his particular office. 
 
 When we came to the bridge which is between the pal- 
 ace and the monument, I ventured to ask the servant if 
 the stream over which the bridge is built was always as 
 wide as it is at present. He regarded me with a look of 
 suspicion, and replied in the negative. He may have sup- 
 posed that I had seen the famous ejMgram on this bridge, 
 made in the time of the first Duke of Marlborough : 
 
 " This mighty bridge his great ambition shows. 
 The stream an emblem of his bounty flows." 
 
 The monument is a jiroud ])ile, "distant from the palace 
 about half a mile. It celebrates on one side all Churchill's 
 merits as a soldier ; and on another side it gives an ex- 
 tract from the Act of Parliament, presenting Blenheim 
 House and domain to John Churchill, etc. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 291 
 
 We now turned and approached the mansion. The pow- 
 dered gentleman began to discourse on its architecture, 
 which he thought rather too low and heavy, but added : 
 " It is in the usual style of Sir John Vanbrugh," not for- 
 getting the epitaph : — 
 
 " Lay heavy on him earth ! for he 
 Laid many a heavy load on thee." 
 
 At the gate of the palace there were five other visitors 
 waiting to view the apartments. Between the hours of 
 two and four the family retire in order to accommodate 
 strangers. 
 
 There was nothing in the palace worthy of particular 
 notice except a collection of pictures, many of them by the 
 Italian and Flemish masters, which had been presented to 
 the first Duke of Marlborough. A few of the paintings 
 were on a large scale, exhibiting his exploits. Here is the 
 largest library, except the Bodleian, which 1 have ever 
 seen ; but the neglected appearance of the books confers 
 very little honor upon their authors. The dining-room and 
 dining-table, which was set for dinner, were simply elegant, 
 as was her Grace's bedchamber. 
 
 The powdered gentleman endeavored to persuade us to 
 admire the damask bed-quilt, the history of which con- 
 sumed some time. He had now completed his usual cir- 
 cuit, and having received the fees which he exacted, — the 
 amount of which would have maintained the first Duke of 
 Marlborough a week, — we were dismissed into the hands 
 of the keeper of the park, who finished his official duties 
 with a like demand. Here I had another opportunity of 
 observing how nearly the height of greatness is sometimes 
 allied to the lowest meanness. I should despise that 
 man in the United States who would condescend to raise 
 a revenue on the curiosity of his own countrymen or 
 from strangers. 
 
292 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 This system of exaction runs down from the royal palace 
 to the waiter at the coffcc-liouse or the more humble ordi- 
 nary. It cannot be supposed that their ^fajestics or the 
 Duke of Marlborough lease out these lucrative offices ; but 
 in the lower ranks of society they are objects of specula- 
 tion. One of the waiters at a London coffee-house in- 
 formed me that to secure his place he paid to his master 
 weekly the sum of eight shillings sterling I This needs 
 no comment. I just add that with a few exceptions you 
 find in England but two sorts of people, beggars by privi- 
 lege, and their co-relatives, beggars from necessity. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 London, July 29. 
 
 You request a sketch of the state of society in England. 
 The few hundred miles westerly from London which I have 
 travelled, will hardly warrant my speaking generally ; be- 
 sides society here is so diversified that if you speak gener- 
 ally you are in danger of falling into an exception, and if 
 you would speak particularly, you must enter into every- 
 body's kitchen. It is as difficult to describe the state 
 of society as it is to delineate the characters of the Eng- 
 lish ; for though they are slaves to the opinions which are 
 held by people of their own class, yet they object to being 
 exactly like their neighbors. Hence you would see no 
 Dutch fashions which last a lumdrcd years, no blind attach- 
 ment to an idol Lama, no uniform state of indifference as 
 in Spain. In short, England is in a continual state of 
 various experiment; everything seems inconsistent. The 
 nobleman frequently forgets his peerage, and the jilebeian 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 293 
 
 frequently imagines himself a nobleman. You find a sin- 
 gular compound of liberty and slavery, of dignity and ser- 
 vility, some little degree of equality, yet every one despising 
 those below himself. Not an individual in the nation 
 knows the form of government, or knows what it may be 
 three months hence. Under the mere form of law and of 
 freedom, it is a perfect political despotism ; and though 
 the people may protest that it is otherwise, they have no rep- 
 resentatives in Parliament. The people, indeed, are fully 
 persuaded they ought to be free, and the Parliament, fear- 
 ful lest they should resort to first principles, is willing to 
 persuade them they are free. Hence while most other 
 governments are supported by main force or passive con- 
 sent, the English system is conducted by mutual conces- 
 sion. Except at the beginning and conclusion of a war, 
 the king is nothing ; yet he docs not lose his dignity in 
 time of peace, though he may be little more than a King 
 Log. 
 
 The private history of this people is a subject equally 
 for the philosopher and the buffoon. Their public history 
 is a little more consistent and offers more uniformity, 
 though less honesty. You perceive the same spirit stream- 
 ing down from Jack Cade and Wat Tyler to John Hamp- 
 den and William Beckford, though Cade and Tyler do 
 not rank in history with the latter, merely because they 
 were not gentlemen of education. It is true, however, that 
 the public history of a powerful people is no criterion of 
 their domestic happiness. Like certain beautiful and 
 majestic women, such a people will show best at a dis- 
 tance, and possibly be most envied when least known. 
 
 The few notices which I am enabled to offer on the 
 present state of society will be partly drawn from my own 
 observation, and partly from as good intelligence as I 
 have been able to procure without seeming to seek it 
 
294 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 directly, for the English have one very great foible, — if 
 they are ever disposed to deceive, it is in order to gain a 
 stranger's good opinion ; yet all of a sudden they are per- 
 fectly indifferent if you are unwilling to admit their pre- 
 tensions. So that if they do not pay, they do not exact 
 deference. 
 
 I shall state a few facts from which, with the help of a 
 little imagination, you may draw a passably correct infer- 
 ence. The land in England is either possessed by the 
 nobility, or monopolized in a great measure by private in- 
 dividuals ; hence all the miseries of the feudal system. 
 From this you will readily conclude that the tenants are 
 in a state of slavery. The fruits of industry do not go 
 to cheer the domestic hearth ; and although the English 
 peasantry are not serfs, their condition is hardly more en- 
 viable than that of serfs : every change of master would 
 serve only to render them less respectable and more dis- 
 tressed. It is for the interest of the landlord to retain his 
 peasantry in a condition just above absolute want, and to 
 discourage their removing from one master to another. 
 Should they be permitted to attain a competency, the land- 
 lords would be ruined. The next generation would lower 
 the price of leases ; the third would be capable of pur- 
 chasing the fee simple, and the lands, unless sold, would 
 lie uncultivated. The contemplation of this state of things 
 would burst the blood-vessel of New England ; but I am 
 only a spectator and can write with moderation. 
 
 The aspect of commerce will affoi'd another insight into 
 the state of society. Rapid acquisitions of fortune, pomp, 
 and luxury, attend commerce ; but in her train she carries 
 misery in a thousand shapes. Commerce is not so odi- 
 ous in monarciiies, where aristocracy is essential ; but in 
 small republics it is destructive, and in great republics it 
 is an evil, unless its spirit be fully counteracted by agri- 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 295 
 
 culture. In tlie scale of nations, England would be notli- 
 ing without commerce ; therefore if commerce be an evil, 
 it is a necessary evil. Besides, I think it doubtful if 
 the people be not happier in having the alternative of 
 gleaning in the fields of their landlords, or of becoming 
 the drudges of merchants. 
 
 One misfortune allies itself to commerce without any 
 possible remedy ; it creates the most odious of all aris- 
 tocracies, — the unfeeling and unprincipled aristocracy of 
 sudden wealth. Then, destitute of every generous senti- 
 ment, the man is disposed to retaliate on society for all 
 those hardships which he has suffered in his adversity. 
 Commerce has the head of a serpent, the arms of a tyrant, 
 and the feet of a slave. It soon beggars a part of society 
 and flourishes in their ruin, while this miserable portion 
 is reduced to the necessity of administering to their own 
 depression; for the more wealthy and powerful a few in- 
 dividuals become, the more weak and miserable are their 
 neighbors. This evil, which it is not in the power of the 
 statesman to remedy, necessarily flows from commerce. 
 If agriculture produces a similar effect, the effect is not 
 necessary but artificial. 
 
 Legislation cannot operate on commerce in the light in 
 which I am now considering it, but it can operate on land. 
 The law has only to abrogate the rights which attach to 
 primogeniture, and the face of Nature in England would 
 immediately wear a different aspect. Society in this par- 
 ticular would find its level as soon as the falling water- 
 spout finds its level with the ocean. Such a law, if it were 
 made to operate at a certain future time, might take effect 
 without injuring any individual. Legislation may operate 
 on land in a thousand ways. The people of Lucca so pro- 
 portioned their taxes to the landed interest of each indi- 
 vidual that when his land exceeded a certain number of 
 
296 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 acres, the tax on the supernumerary acres exceeded the 
 rcnt.^ But these observations with respect to England are 
 altogether futile ; for the abolition of the right of primo- 
 geniture would effect an entire change of the English sys- 
 tem. The nobility will never suffer this. " Quieijuid 
 enim Libertati plcbis caveretur, id suis deccdcrc opibus 
 crcdunt." ^ 
 
 You will think a country sufficiently wretched under 
 these circumstances ; but in this country there is another 
 evil flowing from commerce, which one cannot contem- 
 plate without pain. If the English merchants, like the 
 Ilamburghers or the Dutch, traded in foreign merchandise, 
 or, like most of the merchants of the United States, in the 
 produce of agriculture, commerce might not operate so de- 
 plorably. The English merchant, like the spider, literally 
 spins his web from the bowels of his fellow-subjects. FA\g- 
 land is the first, or among the first manufacturing coun- 
 tries in Europe ; consequently among the most miserable. 
 Every nation is miserable in proportion to her manufac- 
 tories. Commerce operates indirectly, but manufactories 
 directly, against equality. They are the stone of Sisyphus, 
 and the wheel of Ixion. The labor of thousands goes to 
 enrich an individual. The daily bread of the workmen is 
 precarious; if those employments to which they are edu- 
 cated fail, they are reduced to the condition of your com- 
 mon sort of gentlemen who have dissipated their property, 
 — they are fit for nothing. A manufactory cannot flourish 
 unless the laborers sacrifice themselves to their employers; 
 for the employers are as much interested to retain the 
 
 1 Suppose there sliould l)e a law in our own country jtroliiliitinix .inyciti/cn 
 possessing more than three, four, or five hundred acres of hxml, citlicr for 
 himself or to his use, within the territory of liis own Commonwealtli ? Such 
 a law is alre.ady desirable, and mii;ht he passed in prrrsoiti to operate in 
 futuro, suppose seven years, witliout prejudice to auy iudividual. 
 
 - Livv, iii. 55. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 297 
 
 laborers in indigence as are the landlords to impoverish 
 their tenants. Nor is this all ; the bodies of the work- 
 men are not less distorted than are their souls contracted. 
 Their children are a lampoon on God's image, and carry 
 through life the distortions of their parents. 
 
 I have now given you the outlines of tliat state of so- 
 ciety which every nation would present under similar cir- 
 cumstances. There is nothing in England of which I 
 am aware, that substantially counteracts the operation of 
 commerce, manufactures, and the tenure of land. 
 
 I know that every man has his own mode of reasoning, 
 and sees things through a medium peculiar to himself. 
 Some esteem that the happiest country which shows the 
 charming sight of a village peasantry ^ in the vicinity of a 
 magnificent palace. Others, like the Chinese mentioned 
 in a former letter, will esteem that country happiest where 
 five and twenty servants are attached to an individual 
 master. Some will consider that the happiest country 
 in which the labor of thousands enriches a few. Others, 
 like Lord Ellenborough, reasoning more abstractly, and 
 taking a more general view of things, will think that the 
 happiest country where a golden inequality ^ prevails. To 
 such, the even surface and the waving harmony of a 
 field of corn convey no pleasure. I differ from all these 
 authorities, and believe that to be the happiest country 
 where labor is most equally divided and the decencies of 
 life are most easily obtained, 
 
 I know that man is disposed to give himself preference 
 
 1 The English farmers all live in a gentlemanly style, much superior to 
 the farmers of New England ; but those who do the offices of agriculture in 
 England are the peasants. We have no peasants in the United States. 
 Peasants, or hinds, or boors, are not dignified with the name of farmers. 
 
 2 At the trial of Despard, the following charge which his Lordship alleged 
 against the prisoner was not the least important, that " he had conspired 
 against their most desirable state of inequality." 
 
298 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 whenever he can ; and when we look around on society 
 we see that this selfishness is in great danger of being 
 increased beyond toleration. We are ready to exclaim : 
 " This man ought to be a slave, that man was born to be 
 subservient, and the third, even from the dawn of reflection, 
 was unprincipled." But this mode of reasoning is not 
 better than that of the West India planter, who complained 
 he had the worst slaves on the island, and yet he whipped 
 them the most. It is false reasoning to assert that, be- 
 cause the majority of any people have lost the character of 
 man, they were never capable of being good citizens. In 
 the United States human nature has often retrieved its 
 character when England has thought her subjects not 
 worth hanging. In short, it is the part of most govern- 
 ments to render their subjects bad ; then they have a 
 pretext for rendering them still worse. The man who 
 dies at Newgate between the hours of eight and nine in 
 the morning little thinks that possibly his crimes and his 
 fate are a necessary part of that very system which has 
 condemned him. 
 
 A citizen of the United States will naturally ask, " How 
 is it possible for such a state of things to exist? What 
 connecting principle is there to support a fabric so enor- 
 mously dispro})ortionate ?" Is not the top of a pyramid 
 as secure as the bottom ? Now, all civil society partakes 
 in a greater or less degree of the form of the pyramid. 
 The broader the foundation the more weight it supports, 
 and the more secure is the column. How can this evil in 
 society be remedied ? It can be remedied only by counter- 
 action. In my next letter 1 shall descend to particulars, 
 and perhaps qualify in some measure the impression 
 which this may give you. 
 
 Adieu, 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 299 
 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 
 London, August 12. 
 
 Among the many millions who cover the face of this lit- 
 tle spot of earth, there are many who enjoy all that mor- 
 tals, circumscribed only by their own dispositions, can en- 
 joy. If the Englishman frequently fortifies himself against 
 happiness, and sleeps on thorns in the midst of roses, it 
 is his pleasure, whim, or madness. There is certainly 
 sufficient affluence in England to give a stranger from a 
 country like ours a lasting impression. The eye is not 
 continually turned on misery, nor the ear always listening 
 to the tale of distress, nor is the heart rendered more hard 
 by unceasing calls to commiseration. 
 
 The sedate countenance, the rolling eyes, the careless 
 swing of the arms, and the easy step prove that many of 
 the middling class are in easy circumstances, and have a 
 contented heart ; while tlie more guarded step, the more 
 costly though careless dress, and the more erect head of 
 another class show their affluence and self-complacency. 
 The simplicity of the Quakers does not forbid them to 
 display their general prosperity by the best apparel, which 
 owing to its modest color does not attract notice. 
 
 There is still another class, who never know a want 
 which is not gratified too soon for the pleasure of full frui- 
 tion. They command the four seasons. If they are not 
 happy, they are impious. Nor is this class of subjects 
 small, though among nine millions it would be difficult 
 to find them. 
 
 These are the natural conclusions of my last letter. 
 For if a few rich suppose many poor, the contrary is also 
 
300 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 true, — many })oor suppose a few rich. It is impossible 
 that a cultivated country should not be at least partially 
 rich, or that an industrious people should be universally 
 poor. And if such a people in general are necessitous, 
 neither CJod nor Nature is to blame ; for it was never 
 meant that man should suffer a double curse, — lose his 
 sweat ^ and then lose his bread. 
 
 The English system is not a little alleviated by the noble 
 generosity of thousands. The sight of the poor does not 
 always offend the eye of the aflluent. It is the ])art of 
 many to relent while oppressing ; and it frequently hap- 
 pens that those who arc most interested in the sui)port of 
 certain principles are the first to counteract their ten- 
 dency. The merchants are celebrated for their mainten- 
 ance of charities ^ founded on voluntary subscription. The 
 highwayman sometimes returns a part of his plunder. 
 
 The condition in which most of the people of England 
 are born, ought to be noticed as a further alleviating cir- 
 cumstance. A citizen of the United States cannot liave a 
 just view of the state of society in this country unless he is 
 informed that the feelings of the poor are entirely different 
 from the feelings of the people of the United States. The 
 English lose the disposition to reflect even before they ar- 
 rive at the years of reflection. A situation, a hopeless situ- 
 ation, which one might suppose would awaken their souls 
 to agony and rouse their feelings to rebellion, reduces 
 them to stupidity. Hence the condition which in the 
 United States would be shunned as the greatest misfor- 
 tune, is in England a state of contentment, and not infre- 
 quently an object of desire. This is certainly a hajijjv 
 
 1 Moderate labor is the first dictate of Nature. The economy of man 
 sufBcieutly proves this, — the circulatiou of the blood and tlie activity of 
 the mind. 
 
 2 A multitude of charities and hospitals are a sure mark of a nation's 
 misery. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 301 
 
 circumstance since it saves society from the influence of 
 those persons wlio would otherwise become desperate. The 
 man who is born heir to a wheelbarrow seldom aspires to 
 a handcart. 
 
 You will often see at the west end of London one, two, 
 three, and even four men, always more than decently and 
 sometimes elegantly dressed, standing behind a carriage 
 and supporting themselves with the holders. If it rains, 
 they are indulged with umbrellas. Many of these men 
 are not more than twenty or twenty-five years of age. 
 Their majestic height, broad shoulders, straight bodies, and 
 taper legs would have induced Hercules to enlist them in 
 some of his expeditions. These people have the appearance 
 of the most perfect contentment. They are pleased with 
 their party-colored clothes, and never seem more happy 
 than when they exhibit themselves to the public. Nor is 
 this all ; they claim a sort of distinction, and affect to 
 look down on the more respectable man who cries his 
 wares. 
 
 Another numerous class spend their days behind the 
 counter. Such would be more respectably employed in fel- 
 ling wood in the Appalachian mountains. They do the 
 work of girls, and deprive them of bread. Such and many 
 others, however contemptible they may appear, do not in- 
 crease the national misery otherwise than as drones. 
 
 The condition of the lowest class of English women 
 attracts particular notice. They are habitually occupied 
 in the most laborious offices. I have se.en a few making 
 bricks ; others, chiefly Welsh women, carry yokes fastened 
 to their shoulders, and from these yokes two pails of milk 
 are suspended. Others act as porters, and not a few propel 
 wheelbarrows, while sometimes the more hardy lade and 
 unlade vessels, or work in the coal mines. Sad offspring 
 of woman, of whom it is said, — 
 
302 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 " Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, 
 In every gesture dignity and love." 
 
 All this, for aujjht I know, may be worse in other parts 
 of Europe; but nothing of this was ever seen in New 
 England. Do you think it strange that in such circum- 
 stances women should wish to unsex themselves ? 
 
 In England the poor who are sufliciently honest to la- 
 bor for their daily bread do not anticipate a comfortable 
 old age, nor even look forward to the time when their daily 
 bread will not be the price of daily labor. Tliey forever 
 tarry on the wrong side of Jordan. If they are sick, and 
 the laborious poor are most subject to sickness, they are 
 overwhelmed by the tide of adversity and become a j)ul>lic 
 burden. They are so sensible of this that many with a 
 determined and abandoned purpose give themselves up 
 to debauchery. 
 
 In passing through the suburbs of London, I had fre- 
 quently observed a very industrious man and woman mak- 
 ing bricks. I had given tlicm sixjience ^ and sometimes I 
 liad stopped to talk with them. I knew their constant 
 labor and the amount of their daily pay ; yet I never heard 
 them complain. " Surely," thought I, " persons who are thus 
 contented to work all the year and lay up nothing, are 
 valuable subjects and very honest folk." On a Sunday 
 morning not long since, as I was passing by nii inn I 
 observed both this man and his wife lying on the floor and 
 buried in forgctfulncss. In the evening as I was returning, 
 I called on the innkeeper, to inquire if that was their 
 usual Sunday frolic. The man and his wife were still 
 there, senseless. I asked the publican if they liad not 
 come to their senses since morning. " Not quite," said he, 
 " that is the least of their concern ; they have recovered 
 themselves two or three times, just enough to call for more 
 
 ^ Laborers expect a small sum if you show them tiio least attention. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 303 
 
 liquor." In the course of the week I observed these people 
 at work as usual and undertook to remonstrate. Far from 
 being abashed, they hazarded a justification ; and how do 
 you think they reasoned ? They had long endeavored, they 
 said, to better their circumstances, but found it altogether 
 in vain, for some unforeseen accident had always deprived 
 them of the earnings of weeks ; that the surgeon ^ would 
 have their money if the publican did not, and of the two, 
 they preferred to give it to the publican. " But in case of 
 sickness what would you do?" "Oh," said the woman, 
 repeating the first couplet of an old song, — 
 
 " Hang sorrow, and cast away care, 
 The parish are bound to find us." 
 
 Another occurrence, not less to the purpose, made a 
 similar impression on me. It was at Bristol, where I 
 lately spent a few days. I was purchasing a pair of boots 
 of a woman whose husband kept a shoe-store. She ap- 
 peared to be a worthy woman, and I congratulated her 
 on her seemingly flourishing circumstances. " Ah, sir," 
 said she, " we should do very well, if the price of labor 
 was not so high. Indeed, sir, we are obliged to give 
 our journeymen so much money that it ruins them, and 
 they are drunk one half of their time, and not fit to 
 work the other half." This was after I had purchased the 
 boots. I have forgotten how much she told me the weekly 
 pay of the journeymen amounted to, but I endeavored to 
 convince her that it was impossible for them with double 
 the wages to maintain a small family. " Ah," replied the 
 good woman, " what would they do with a family ? They 
 cannot take care of themselves." " But do you think they 
 would do better if they had less wages ? " " Certainly," 
 
 1 The phj-sicians are not answerable for the death of the poor ; that is tl:e 
 concern of the surgeon or the apothecary. 
 
304 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 she replied, " they would then mind their business, and not 
 get drunk." I said no more, and she thought she had 
 the best of the argument. 
 
 Now, ought we to wonder if most of the laborers and 
 manufacturers are drunkards? Those who drink most eat 
 least; and it costs them less to get drunk than it does 
 to fill their bellies with wholesome provision. 
 
 Another instance is not less illustrative. I attended the 
 trials at the Old Bailey. A prisoner was tried on a capital 
 indictment and acquitted. My own heart bounded with joy ; 
 but he heard the verdict " Not guilty " pronounced with as 
 much indifference as I have seen others receive the sentence 
 of death. This surprised me, for his acquittal was un- 
 expected, and ought to have excited his hapi)icst feelings. 
 He was immediately discharged, and I followed him out 
 of court, and asked the cause of his apparent unconcern. 
 He rciilied with contemptuous apathy : " How do I know 
 that I shall not soon have to go through this disagree- 
 able business again ? " This explained the secret why so 
 many criminals in England die heroically. They foresee 
 their fate, and die their natural death. 
 
 Perhaps in these notices I have descended too frequently 
 to low life ; but the circles in which the great and the little 
 move are of very different circumference. If one frequent 
 the company of the great only, and bound his views within 
 the purlieus of St. James's, doubtless he would describe 
 England as a paradise ; but he would know no more of the 
 people than he would of the Romans from reading the lives 
 of Cffisar, Cato, and Pompcy.^ But if he should travel in the 
 Pythagorean style, conversing with every man he met, and 
 comparing the generality of Englishmen with their race of 
 horses, he would pronounce the condition of the latter 
 
 1 No one from reading the history of these men would suppose Rome con- 
 tained five hundred inhabitants; so easy is it to overlook aniilliou of people! 
 
LETTEES FROM LONDON. 305 
 
 preferable to that of the former. I speak this with 
 guarded caution, conscious of its reckless illiberality if it 
 is not true ; but I believe no one who has ever made the 
 comparison will hesitate to pronounce the English horses 
 better fed than the English subjects.^ 
 
 A writer, Colquhoun, whom I have quoted before, says : 
 " The commutation of perpetual labor for the price of life 
 is thought too severe by the legislature. A moment's re- 
 flection, however, will show that in point of manual labor, 
 the hardship to be imposed is no more tiian every honest 
 artisan who works industriously for his family must dur- 
 ing the whole course of his life impose on himself. The 
 condition of a convict would in some respects be superior, 
 inasmuch as he would have medical assistance and other 
 advantages tending to the preservation of health, which 
 do not attach to the lowest classes of the people." I do 
 not coincide with all this, but I think it probable that had 
 Mr. Bruce in Abyssinia, or had Mr. Park in Africa, discov- 
 ered a people in the same situation as those of whom Mr, 
 Colquhoun speaks, the English would instantly open sub- 
 scriptions, and send an expedition to the relief of that 
 people ; yes, even to the source of the Nile. 
 
 I have found it impossible to avoid several seeming in- 
 consistencies. The English system is perhaps the most 
 intricate labyrinth in which any people ever found them- 
 selves involved. Man is the creature of the government 
 under which he lives : from that he takes his disposition, 
 his carriage, his sentiments, his vices and virtues. If the 
 government be complicated, the motives from which the 
 people act will often appear extraordinary, while in reality 
 the motives may be founded in secret reason or in .absolute 
 necessity. 
 
 1 In a late treatise, Dr. Buchan has given, it as his opinion that bread 
 is too good for the poor, and has offered a cheaper substitute. I wonder 
 •why the doctor did not propose saw-dust. 
 
 20 
 
306 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 I have told you the English are exceedingly humane and 
 charitable,^ yet the poor fare worse than the horses. I 
 have remarked that the merchants are naturally well dis- 
 posed, yet their commercial spirit obliges them to become 
 hard and oppressive. They would be among the first to 
 support the cause of liberty at home ; so they would be 
 among the first to support the cause of slavery abroad. 
 Tlicir natural dispositions are good, but they are selfish 
 from principle. 
 
 In former letters I have more than once observed that 
 the English populace frequently display marks of a free 
 people, while at the same moment you are ready to pro- 
 nounce them slaves. No one can comprehend the cause 
 of these inconsistencies, unless he takes an extensive view 
 of the various operations of the English system, which dis- 
 torts the subject into more shapes than the imagination 
 can figure. 
 
 Would to God I might be heard across the Atlantic ! 
 I would proclaim to my fellow-citizens their proud pre- 
 eminence in the ranks of civil society. I would show them 
 the Constitution of England, fair in theory as the divine 
 forms of Plato ; in its operation on the great mass of sub- 
 jects as different from the Constitution of the United 
 States as the condition of the English peasant is different 
 from that of the Green Mountain farmer. I would im- 
 press on them the futility of a government which affects 
 
 1 The English claim the merit of being the most generous and humane 
 people in tlio world. Their public and private history certainly exliibit tliera 
 under very different aspects. If one knew nothing of this people except 
 from tlieir i)ublic history, ho would suppose every Englishman walked the 
 streets with a dub on his slioulder. The truth is, John Bull has a foil)le : 
 you must appeal to his humanity, if you wish to soften liim ; otherwise, lie will 
 often resist the soundest reason. Many of our own people are strongly jire- 
 judiced against the English. This originated in the American devolution ; 
 but it is not the Englisli character that is detestable, it is the Euglish 
 system. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 307 
 
 liberty on the hereditary principle, reduces the people to 
 beggary, and, like the crocodile, devours its own offspring. 
 I would conjure them by past happiness and future pros- 
 pects, to cherish that Constitution which produces men, 
 which is more powerful than despotism in restraining the 
 worst, and all-efficient in exciting the best, tendencies of 
 man. I would say to the citizens of the United States : 
 Be constant to yourselves. You have nothing to fear from 
 your Constitution ; but your Constitution has everything 
 to fear from you. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXXYI. 
 
 London, August 22. 
 
 Erskine, Gibbs, and Garrow are the three most powerful 
 speakers in the courts of law. 
 
 The person of Erskine is slender, his height not exceed- 
 ing the common size ; his complexion is sallow ; his hair 
 dark ; his face oval and a little emaciated ; the lower part 
 of his forehead prominent, yet gradually retreating ; his 
 eyebrows full and a little knitted ; his eyes arc hazel, open, 
 and conciliatory ; his nose is narrow between the eyes, yet 
 neither too large nor too small ; his mouth is gently closed, 
 seeming ready to await the dictates of his tongue, yet it is 
 not large enough to give his eloquence its just tone ; his 
 lips are thin, meeting in union, and when irritated inclin- 
 ing to retreat rather than to project ; his chin is gently 
 retreating, and in conjunction with his forehead bespeaks 
 the man, — firm yet modest, positive yet ingenuous. 
 
 When in a state of repose his countenance is prepos- 
 sessing ; but when he speaks his gestures are rhetoric, 
 
308 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 his looks persuasion, his voice elofjuencc. In the glow' of 
 animation he is commanding ; but in the moment of passion, 
 when self-convinced, he is pure intelligence. Disdaining 
 every by-road to conviction, he strips the cause of all 
 extraneous circumstances, and places it on its own ])0si- 
 tion, true to nature ; paints it visibly to the eye, and buries 
 in oblivion every interfering particular. Both judge and 
 jury are prostrate in chains. It is the contention of prin- 
 ciple ; no matter whose or what the interest, or if heaven 
 were concerned, it is still the contention of principle. Of 
 all causes which could arise, the present seems to involve 
 the deepest consequences. There is no distinction now be- 
 tween the great and the little ; everything but the point in 
 question is forgotten, — Erskine and his cause are sovereign 
 over all. Now flows the fountain of justice, now the re- 
 cesses of iniquity are explored, now the deep foundations 
 of fraud arc broken up. His eloquence becomes a torrent 
 which sweeps away every defence which art or subterfuge 
 had raised. No longer has the law a single hard feature, 
 no perplexities, no uncertainties, no idle evasions ! Satur- 
 nian Jove descends with his equal scales, cunning retires 
 in shame, oppression lets go its victim, and innocence is 
 seated on the throne of equity. At length, by degrees 
 Erskine himself is forgotten, and forgets himself ; he rises 
 to an effort not his own, and sinks under superior feelings, 
 while the judge and the jury already convinced even to 
 enthusiasm, impatiently withhold the verdict. 
 
 sacred tribunal ! guarded in the spotless ermine of 
 justice. hallowed walls ! where party spirit never 
 enters, where the oppressed breathe an ethereal element. 
 glorious institution ! which chains the passions of men, 
 and checks the exactions of self-interest ! venerable 
 judges ! whose sacred office knows no bias, whose sym- 
 pathy is never wakened but in th(^ cause of humanity. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 309 
 
 I know not with whom of the orators of antiquity to 
 compare Erskine. He possesses neither the voice, nerve, 
 nor vehemence of Demosthenes, but he has more, cor- 
 diality. The audience of Demosthenes is driven, you see 
 the goad ; that of Erskine follows its leader. While the 
 one shows both of his hands clinched, you see the arms of 
 the other extended. Demosthenes stamps with his feet, 
 Erskine folds his arms ; while the one assumes a look of 
 defiance, the other pauses a moment with open eyes. Ers- 
 kine has all the grace and elegance of Tully, and, like 
 Tully, is anxious to round all the angular points of his 
 cause in a qualifying exordium. He has less art, is more 
 rapid, more earnest, more original than Tully ; and if the 
 periods of the Roman are more majestic than those of 
 Erskine, it is the fault of the English language. Erskine 
 has not TuUy's reach of learning, tliough I suspect that in 
 case of a surprise Erskine's readiness would extricate him, 
 while the Roman would sink under the weight of his own 
 erudition. Erskine has not the confidence nor the gran- 
 deur of Pericles, but he attaches you more quickly. 
 Pericles is willing to impose on you ; Erskine's first con- 
 cern is to make friends. While Pericles is throwing the 
 gauntlet, Erskine is on the defensive, watching the 
 moment of doubt or indifference. The one stands erect, 
 imperative, and will take nothing which he cannot extort ; 
 the other is submissive, inclines forward, and appeals to 
 impartial justice. 
 
 Erskine will suffer nothing on being examined as a man ; 
 his profession has not defaced his original features of 
 greatness. When engaged in a weak or unjust cause, he 
 never sacrifices his hardihood of honor to the views of his 
 client. He says all that ought to be said ; yet he never 
 compromises his dignity by urging a corrupt principle. 
 You see nothing of the attorney ; Erskine is a counsellor. 
 
310 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 You sec no attempt to take petty advantages ; Erskine is a 
 gentleman. 
 
 By turns he is serious or witty, and wlien the occasion 
 offers and he is disposed to descend, like Roscius, he can 
 turn off a case by pantomime. Among the thousand 
 actions which are presented to him, some on trial appear 
 to have originated in mirth, and others in imi)udence ; this 
 Proteus is ready in a moment to throw off the professional 
 buskin and tread the sock. 
 
 I have followed Erskine to the House of Commons, 
 forming to my mind the attitude of a man treading em- 
 pires under his feet, and holding in his hands the destinies 
 of the world. If, in a petty court of law, he could move 
 heaven in behalf of a poor orphan or an oppressed widow, 
 surely in presence of the British Parliament, when the 
 fate of nations is depending, the front of opposition must 
 cower beneath his frown, or follow in the wake of his 
 triumphant progress. But the moment he enters Parlia- 
 ment he disappears. He is only one among five hundred. 
 An Arab would never kill Erskine, unless he caught the 
 counsellor in his gown, band, and wig;^ with these he 
 seems to put off his whole virtue. As a statesman, Erskine 
 is nothing. I do not say he is a great man in a little room; 
 but when he is addressing twelve men in a court of law, 
 and when in the British Parliament he is addressing the 
 speaker in behalf of the nation, he is not the same man. 
 He begins, indeed, on a broad foundation, but he ascends 
 like a ])yraraid, and either j)roduccs an abortion or attains 
 to a point, and terminates where he should have begun. 
 In Parliament he shows nothing of that copious precision, 
 that ascending order, that captivating fluency, that earnest 
 conviction which at the bar stamj) him Erskine. In Par- 
 
 1 Wliin iu court, tbo English lawyers are dressed iii a black gowu, a baud, 
 and a tie wig. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 311 
 
 liament he labors with a harrow through the impediments 
 of politics ; now it catches hold of Pitt, then it interferes 
 with a straggling limb of Hawkesbury, now it tears away 
 the skirts of Addington, presently it is to be lifted over 
 the body of Windham. He concludes, and the impression 
 which he had made is quickly effaced. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 London, August 28. 
 
 The person of Gibbs is diminutive, his appearance con- 
 temptible ; he has not a single strong mark of character, 
 except a sagacious eye. There is nothing engaging in his 
 looks ; he repels rather than attracts, but all his defects 
 are forgotten the moment he begins to speak. Doubtless 
 Gibbs is the greatest lawyer in England. In a common 
 case he is inferior to Erskine and Garrow ; but in a cause 
 which involves first principles, where there is no room for 
 the trappings of eloquence, where passion is vain, where 
 digression w^eakens, where em])ellishment begets suspicion, 
 he commands admiration, pens up Erskine in a corner, and 
 not infrequently makes him stammer. 
 
 In addressing a jury Gibbs is second, but second only 
 to Erskine and Garrow. He neither understands human 
 nature so well as they do, nor can he sift character, nor 
 can he insinuate himself and take advantage of a fortunate 
 moment. He has no conception of the extremes of virtue 
 and vice ; he measures everything with his compasses, but 
 he is sure of his dimensions. You make it merely a case 
 of conscience to agree with him, yet he never lets you go 
 until he has secured you, though he never thanks you for 
 
312 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 a verdict, well knowing you would not liavc given it had 
 he not compelled you. Sometimes, though rarely, he at- 
 tains to eloquence not interior to Erskine's, and then he 
 is sure of his cause, for what can resist the arguments of 
 Gibbs, backed with the eloquence of Erskine ? Yet his 
 eloquence is not of the expansive order, because it is not 
 the eloquence of the heart, but that of the head. He can- 
 not look all the jury in the face at the same moment ; he 
 does not regard the jury as one man ; he feels as though 
 he had twelve persons to convince, — in this respect differ- 
 ing from Erskine, who addresses the whole twelve, and 
 persuades each individual that he is solicitous to convince 
 him in particular. 
 
 Gibbs knows that human nature varies in different men ; 
 Erskine fiuds the tie of connection which governs the 
 whole. While the one is laboring his point, the other has 
 already touched you with his wand. Like his countrymen, 
 Gibbs effects by main force all that he does effect. Erskine 
 and Garrow are exulting on the top of the fortification, 
 while Gibbs is mining the foundation; and before Gibbs 
 enters the city it is already sacked. 
 
 1 have spoken of these great men as addressing a jury ; 
 in addressing the judges, before whom nothing but law and 
 argument can avail or will be heard, before whom the most 
 eloquent might as well speak in the dark, Gibbs rises pre- 
 eminent. He assumes nothing, yet his very deportment 
 bespeaks a man sure of himself, who has sounded his posi- 
 tion and is able to grasp the whole common law of England. 
 When Gibbs addresses the judges, Garrow is out of court, 
 or sits with his calimanco bag tied up, and Erskine, his 
 antagonist, fearful of a surprise, is as anxious and as busy 
 as a general on the field of battle. 
 
 The deeper the case, the more perplexed, the more orig- 
 inal and involved in law learning, the more firm is Gibbs 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 313 
 
 in his position ; he is secure in himself and less cautious of 
 his competitor. He rises with a solemnity and moderation 
 which impress every one. His voice is strong and his utter- 
 ance is slow and well articulated, perfectly suited to a man 
 "who in pursuit of the light of reason is willing that every 
 word should be judged by the rules of precision. Without 
 the appearance of arrangement he has all the elegance of 
 method. He is luminous ; you see his path through the 
 "wilderness of the law, while in his rear follows a stream of 
 connected discourse and reasoning. Thus securing all the 
 interest of historical order and logical process, he gradually 
 convinces until he challenges all he demanded. 
 
 The gestures of Gibbs are moderate, his countenance is 
 never impassioned ; unlike Erskine, he is never agitated. 
 He uses but one arm, and that never in a waving line ; 
 his person is scarcely big enough to wield the weight of 
 his mind. He uses little illustration, depending on his 
 last argument to illustrate the former. He never conde- 
 scends to be witty, despises embellishment, would trample 
 on all the flowers of rhetoric, displays no learning foreign 
 to the case, and indulges in no sally, except a strong and 
 overwhelming irony, correspondent with the strength of his 
 reasoning. 
 
 In these moments Erskine's self retires before him like 
 the shadow which you have sometimes seen in a cloudy day 
 retreating over the hills before the invading presence of the 
 sun. But in his turn Erskine rallies himself, and easily 
 persuades all that, except in that particular case, he is su- 
 perior to Gibbs, and though vanquished, is prepared for 
 another combat. 
 
 Doubtless the judges, as judges, have most reverence for 
 Gibbs ; it is evident they look up to him with veneration, 
 and are disposed to suspect their own judgment rather 
 than his. This man, a plebeian, is a candidate for noth- 
 
314 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 ing ; while Erskinc, the son of an Earl, is a candidate for 
 the Lord High Chancellorship. I do not say this in disre- 
 pcct to Erskinc, who honors England more than England 
 can ever honor him. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXXVIIL 
 
 London, September 5. 
 
 Garrow is not a lawyer, nor in the full sense of the 
 word, is he an orator ; yet as an orator he is not less extra- 
 ordinary than Erskine or Gibbs. His person is respectable, 
 rather rawboned ; his face is square and flat ; his complexion 
 a dry, brown red ; his forehead is high, and appears higher 
 through a total defect of eyebrows ; his chin is triangular 
 and a little prominent. 
 
 If I have been correctly informed, the history of Garrow 
 is singular. He is the son of a country clergyman, and in 
 his childhood was considered a dead weight on society. 
 Until the age of thirteen he was a cow-boy ; and liis intel- 
 lect promised nothing. About that period, his father sent 
 him, at a venture, to London. What occupation he fol- 
 lowed I know not ; but he found his way at length to 
 the evening debating societies, where he soon showed a 
 wonderful readiness in reply, and a copious flow of origi- 
 nal matter, all the more remarkable in view of his lack of 
 education. 
 
 I suspect that Garrow entered on the study of the law 
 under unfavorable circumstances, for he began at tlie Old 
 Bailey. Hence if human nature wore but one aspect, Gar- 
 row would naturally paint it black. If they have ability, 
 most men in the profession of law attain eminence by 
 degrees. A lawyer never appears full grown at once, like 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 315 
 
 an air-balloon or a newly created lord. He is obliged to 
 arrive at certainty through the labyrinths of uncertainty. 
 Although Garrow became famous as soon as he showed 
 himself, yet his celebrity did not depend on his acquisitions. 
 
 As counsellor for felons ^ at the Old Bailey, Garrow was 
 necessarily a spectator of human depravity from its first 
 moment of lax principle to the last degree of abandoned 
 practice. The code of criminal law in this country is so 
 disproportioned, so barbarous, so unnatural, that Garrow 
 might frequently deem it a matter of principle to save 
 the accused. Hence the more desperate the situation of 
 the prisoner, the more severely would Garrow tax his 
 own ingenuity. 
 
 I will give you two instances, the latter of which I heard 
 Garrow relate in the King's Bench. The first occurred in 
 a criminal action, the other in a civil. 
 
 Some years ago, a servant was indicted for robbing his 
 master. The penalty in this case is death, and in general 
 justice is inexorable. The prisoner had no hope except in 
 Garrow. He had robbed his master of several guineas ; 
 they were all found on his person, and, to render his 
 case desperate, they had been marked, and the master 
 was ready to attest their identity. Garrow asked the 
 prisoner if he could mark another guinea in a similar 
 manner. The prisoner marked one, and Garrow told him 
 he might begin to repent, for his acquittal could not 
 be assured. 
 
 On the day of trial, just before the master of the accused 
 was about to swear to the guineas, Garrow desired to 
 look at them, and cautioning the witness not to swear to 
 money, as it was so frequently marked, requested the spec- 
 
 1 I have already stated, that a felon is not allowed counsel to address the 
 jury in his behalf ; but he is allowed counsel to cross-examine the witnesses, 
 and to take every possible advantage which may offer. 
 
316 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 tators if they had any guineas in tiicir pockets, to lend 
 them to him. In a moment he had a handful, — it was 
 so contrived. lie shufTlcd them together, and presenting 
 them to the witness desired him to select his own. The 
 witness hesitated, and being pressed by Garrow, did not 
 venture to identify. The prisoner was acquitted. It ap- 
 peared afterward that Garrow in presenting the handful of 
 guineas had withholden those which had been stolen. 
 
 The other instance was of late occurrence. A will sus- 
 pected to be a forgery was set up. One of the subscrib- 
 ing witnesses, in giving his evidence, stated that an 
 English shilling Avas placed under the seal. The judge 
 called for the will, broke the seal, and found the shilling. 
 In Garrow's opinion this was not conclusive ; he desired 
 to look at the shilling. Fortunately, it was not worn 
 so smooth but that the date might be discerned ; by 
 which it appeared that the shilling was coined long after 
 the will purported to have been made. 
 
 "While practising at the Old Bailey, Garrow was an im- 
 pediment to justice. The only remedy was to make him 
 a king's counsellor. This at once placed him in the King's 
 Bench, beside Erskine, Gibbs, Dallas, and Park. The saga- 
 city which distinguished him in criminal cases, followed 
 him to the more ample field of litigation. There, amidst 
 the intricacies of self-interest, fraud, and cunning, he di- 
 vests the cause of every assumed color, or as readily ex- 
 tricates suffering innocence from the fangs of the op- 
 pressor. His wonderful knowledge of human nature is 
 only equalled by his facility of entering into the feelings, 
 views, and conduct of mankind under all circumstances. 
 He is a perfect master of the theory of the proba])ilities of 
 human conduct, while the variety of causes at the Guild- 
 hall gives him a view as extensive and as broad as the re- 
 lations of society. He is a metaphysician, and what is 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 317 
 
 more, knows how to reduce his metaphysics to common 
 sense and to the purposes of common life. No casuist 
 could enter more sagaciously into the theory of the will, 
 motive, and the degree of necessity ; no other could so 
 palpably distinguish between the necessary, the indifferent, 
 and the perverse of human action. 
 
 Garrow's chief excellence consists in impressing on the 
 jury a full and distinct apprehension of the merits of the 
 case. It is the fault of some great lawyers to enter too 
 deeply into their causes ; they injure them by attempt- 
 ing to give them a false importance before the jury. Gar- 
 row, on the contrary, comprehends with a glance just how 
 much the case will bear, and to what length he may pre- 
 sume on the jury ; then, after a clear and precise opening 
 of the cause, in which is contained the real outlines 
 which he knows his evidence will support, he rises in 
 a moment to the middle style of eloquence, and with a 
 fluency surpassing Erskine's, turns his back on the judge, 
 and worms himself into the common sense of the jury, 
 with whom he never hazards a dubious point by urging it 
 beyond the fair bounds of plausibility. Here he takes his 
 stand ; by resting his case on the jury's own competency, 
 he pays them deference, and engages their self-love, while 
 without any considerable effort on their part, they fol- 
 low him at their ease. Never does he, like Gibbs and 
 Erskine, address himself partly to the judge and partly to 
 the jury ; but forgetful of all the solemnities of his pro- 
 fession, he seems to leap over the bar into the midst 
 of the jury, his fellows. With him, a sagacious pointer, 
 at their head, they are ready to follow from White Chapel 
 to Hyde Park. 
 
 Nothing great, no sublime apostrophes, no appeal to 
 the passions, no distracting digressions, no learning, not 
 even law learning, trouble the pure stream of Garrow's 
 
318 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 eloquence. "With extraordinary rapidity he touches on all 
 the important points, tlirowint^ out with one hand whatever 
 is immaterial, and establishing with the other whatever is 
 substantial, thus laying the marrow of the cause before 
 the jury ; and lest the cause should be obscured with cir- 
 cumlocution, when he has said all that they can bear, he 
 ends in apparent exhaustion. 
 
 Garrow attaches more surely than Erskine himself. 
 The latter sometimes strains the feelings too high ; amidst 
 a world of matter, he is in danger of losing sight of the 
 question. Garrow never yet w^antoned to the prejudice of 
 his client. He never ascends like the eagle to the sun, but 
 he never stops his pursuit in order to chase butterflies. 
 Though his style of speaking and tone of voice are always 
 the same, yet his penetration is so subtle and his conclu- 
 sions so natural that he succeeds in convincing the jury he 
 is only elucidating their own sentiments. Thus whatever 
 he gains instantly becomes a part of the verdict, no 
 matter whether the verdict be right or wrong, — that is the 
 judge's concern, not his. 
 
 Doubtless Garrow is the first man at the bar, when the 
 action is involved in dry matter of fact : for then, fearless 
 of being put down by law authorities, he can give full 
 play to his own ingenuity ; and as no man ever had more 
 producible common sense, no man was ever so capable of 
 applying it well. No man ever had a clearer mind, which, 
 though not deep, embraces the extremes of sagacity, fore- 
 sight, and probability- He is like the beds of those rivers, 
 of which, though you can see to the bottom, you see noth- 
 ing but golden sands. 
 
 To distinguish between Gibbs, Garrow, and Erskine, I 
 should say Gibbs is a man of a powerful mind, Garrow 
 an extraordinary man, and Erskine a man of genius. To 
 compare them with our New England lawyers, 1 should 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 319 
 
 say Dexter was the most like Gibbs, Otis most like Garrow, 
 and Erskine — I know not with whom to compare him; 
 he is a partial assemblage of all the others. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 London, September 15. 
 
 On the subject of the English orators I should prefer 
 to be silent, ratlier than to confine myself within the 
 bounds of a letter. However, I will attempt a sketch of 
 the principal speakers. 
 
 From the predominant class of contending men in the 
 House of Commons, I might select Pitt, Fox, Windham, 
 Sheridan, Wilberforce, Grey, Tierney, Castlereagh, Hawkes- 
 bury, Corry, and Addington. 
 
 The characters of these men, as orators, are well known 
 in the United States, and particularly so to you. I shall, 
 therefore, confine myself to the first three, — Pitt, Fox, and 
 Windham. Sheridan 1 would have included, but I have 
 heard him speak only twice, and then he left no impres- 
 sion. He has taken no part in any important debate 
 which I have attended, but has kept his seat, — silent, 
 reserved, looking earnestly toward the treasury bench, 
 and seemingly dubious of his former principles, which 
 have left him as poor as his old client the Nabob of 
 Arcot. 
 
 Mr. Pitt still rises with an ease, composure, and assur- 
 ance, indicative of former influence, while the House, con- 
 scious of his presence, are disposed to give him all that 
 attention as a member which he once commanded as a 
 minister. And though at present he is a fallen states- 
 
320 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 man, he sustains a character none the less ascendant as 
 a man ; so that his enemies arc not willing to approach 
 niglier plain Mr. Pitt than they did the once arbiter of 
 the kingdom. 
 
 The station which Mr. Pitt has supported so long has 
 given his eloquence a peculiar turn, and even rendered his 
 character ostensibly cold and hard. The political calcu- 
 lator, always in search of expedients, habitually regards 
 mankind mechanically, and sooner or later becomes impen- 
 etrable to the first dictates of nature, and sublimely over- 
 looks every obstacle which might imjwdc his course. A 
 prime minister of Great Britain, if he continues long in 
 office, must of necessity familiarize himself with deeds 
 which in their extensive consequences render all the crimes 
 of the decalogue comparatively harmless. In fact, Mr. Pitt's 
 eloquence shows a frigid, palliating, defensive, yet positive 
 character. It has ever been sufficient for him to maintain 
 his ground : not to be driven from his post has been to 
 gain the victory. At this day, he addresses the Speaker as 
 though the conflict were still between himself and his great 
 antagonist. Fox, while Addington is forgotten, and forgets 
 that he is minister. 
 
 Had Mr. Pitt labored all his days in the o]iposition, he 
 would have been a much greater orator and a much nobler 
 man. Ever on the defensive, he has naturally fallen into 
 a confined uniformity, which has seldom permitted him to 
 take excursion beyond the tedious business of office ; at the 
 same time the system of government, forcing the current 
 of business to mingle itself with the sighs, tears, and groans 
 of the nation, has rendered him officially obnoxious to the 
 people, and afforded his parliamentary enemies the fairest 
 provocations for attack. Once, indeed, Mr. Pitt found 
 himself on the side of humanity, and shone conspicuously 
 among Fox, Burke, Wilberforcc, and others. But, singular 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 321 
 
 as it may appear, he then, and then only, found himself in 
 a minority. I speak of the famous motion of Wilberforce 
 for the abolition of the slave trade. 
 
 Under these circumstances, the members of the opposi- 
 tion have every advantage, not only of popular respect, but 
 of humanity, and consequently of oratory ; for true elo- 
 quence must be founded on the honest feelings of nature. 
 But a prime minister has already closed every pore to the 
 glow of humanity, before he ventures to open the budget.^ 
 Hence he is cut off from the most fruitful source of elo- 
 quence. No appeal to the passions, no earnest supplica- 
 tion, no sympathy with distress, no palpitation of the heart, 
 render him dear to the people and soften his exactions. 
 Impelled by inexorable necessity, he comes into the House, 
 and knowing the final result of the question, boldly exposes 
 himself to the whole artillery of the opposition. But all 
 this confidence in his followers does not suffer him to re- 
 mit the severest exercise of his own powers in order to 
 give plausibility to his most suspicious measures. Hence 
 it may easily be imagined that before any important 
 step is taken, the treasury bench have already been sum- 
 moned to weigh every difficulty which the opposition might 
 possibly raise. Thus such men as Fox, Sheridan, and Grey 
 have the honor of being answered twice. But Fox is so 
 various, rapid, and overwhelming, that he frequently loses 
 the whole ministry, who, long since ripe for the question, 
 are happy to be released by the last resort of the minister, 
 — I mean the vote of the majority. 
 
 From these observations you will easily collect what the 
 style of Pitt and of Fox will probably be ; still, each of 
 them preserves a distinct character. 
 
 1 " Budget : " a political cant word for the yearly estimate of expenses. 
 I saw Mr. Addington open one of his budgets, and I imagined I heard the 
 groans of a hundred million people. 
 
 21 
 
322 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 Mr. Pitt is the most cool, perspicacious, dignified, and flu- 
 ent speaker who ever rose in a deliberative assembly. The 
 moment he is expected, a solemn stillness pervades the 
 House ; and while his presence is felt, his adversaries lose 
 all their influence. His manner is gentle and unassuming ; 
 his gestures, moderate and conciliatory ; his voice, musical, 
 clear, and distinct ; his words, most hapi)ily selected with- 
 out the least appearance of selection, flow in an unruffled, 
 uniform stream, always sufficiently rapid to interest, and 
 frequently to command attention. With these advantages, 
 he opens upon the House a mind veteran in politics and as 
 extensive as the various relations of the empire. Nor is he 
 deficient in illustrations drawn from modern science, or in 
 embellisliments derived from ancient literature ; but he uses 
 both illustrations and embellishments sparingly. With a 
 mind thus adorned by nature, thus disciplined by art, and 
 habitually cool and determined, no wonder he displays on 
 all occasions a reach far beyond the attainment of ordinary 
 men. While the fallen statesman is yet willing to hazard 
 his former immense responsibility, he still seems to support 
 a mighty kingdom, nor does he sink under the weight. 
 Doubtless no member of the House of Commons could sujv 
 port such a weight of character unless his pre-eminent abili- 
 ties had first given him the necessary strength, and then 
 that weight of character had seconded his abilities. 
 
 His chief excellence consists in inspiring a full confi- 
 dence in his own capacity ; then he places you at a due 
 distance, perfectly at your ease, and whether he is right 
 or wrong you are loath to interrujit the copious stream of 
 his clocpicncc, which flows with such a felicity of connec- 
 tion and concludes with such an elegant compactness, that 
 you fancy you have been listening to an oracle, whose 
 words dictated in the harmony of numbers carry a divine 
 influence. No breaks, no exclamations, no agitation, no 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 323 
 
 violence of expression mark his course, ruffle his temper, 
 or disturb the spelh Never does he astonish, like the 
 column of Niagara, by his headlong torrent, falling, spark- 
 ling, and spreading wide its foam, — he preserves his nat- 
 ural and deep channel. He fixes you, it is true, and you 
 are satisfied while under the power of his words ; but the 
 moment he concludes the impression is gone, and you are 
 ready to dispute him. The reason is, Pitt's eloquence is 
 the eloquence of the head, and not the eloquence of the 
 heart. He is as cold as the polar regions, and as dry as 
 the deserts of Arabia. He is afraid to tempt his feelings, 
 lest his heart should betray his head. Hence he is spar- 
 ing of ornament, suspicious of moral digression, and fear- 
 ful of an appeal to the passions. 
 
 Destitute, at present, of the pioneers of the treasury 
 bench, Pitt stands self-supported, and seems to plant him- 
 self in a narrow defile, prepared to oppose all who may 
 come that way. Although he sees his adversaries from 
 afar — some, like Fox, approaching directly, others scour- 
 ing along the declivities, and a few subaltern partisans 
 who retreat the moment their heads are discovered above 
 the hills — he maintains his ground, notwithstanding his 
 accustomed armor renders him incapable of varying his 
 weapons, while his mechanical movements forbid him to 
 pursue the enemy. 
 
 Fox appears in the House of Commons under the most 
 favorable impressions which an ambitious orator can de- 
 sire. He commands the awe if not the admiration of the 
 Ministry, steals into the affections of the indifferent, and 
 carries with him the enthusiasm of his friends. How can 
 it be otherwise? His heart is full and laboring before 
 he rises. Consistent from the beginning, his sincerity is 
 never doubted, and thus he is always in possession of the 
 foreground ; and though he frequently breaks out in sud- 
 
324 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 (Icii abruptness, the beginning of his last speech always 
 seems the conclusion of the preceding. His whole political 
 life has been one continued flow of eloquence, — here only 
 a narrow stream, and there scarcely liuwing at all, but on 
 every great occasion collecting itself like a torrent and 
 rushing in a wide and lengthened volume ; now breaking 
 over rocks and precipices, and now making its own channel 
 through the mounds which his busy competitors had lal)0- 
 riously reared, sweeping all away, and not infrequently 
 overwhelming his enemies, and leaving their dead bodies 
 floating far behind. 
 
 In vain will a king of Great Britain draw a line over the 
 name of such a man as Fox. If no longer privy counsellor, 
 he is counsellor of the nation. It is impossible to oppress 
 or humble such a man. Wherever he treads, he must 
 leave an indelible impression ; wliatever he docs, becomes 
 a part of his country's history ; and whatever he says, must 
 descend to posterity. 
 
 Though Fox is slovenly in appearance, unwieldy in per- 
 son, and ungracious in manners, though his voice is dis- 
 agreeably shrill, his words frequently indistinct, and his 
 action generally embarrassed, yet he has scarcely begun be- 
 fore you are solicitous to approach nearer to the man. In 
 the midst of passion, which sometimes agitates him until he 
 pants high, he displays so much gentleness of temper and 
 so little personal feeling that a stranger might easily imag- 
 ine he saw this man among the gods, unencumbered with 
 any mortal affection, debating for the good of mankind. So 
 much pure principle, natural sagacity, strong argument, 
 noble feeling, adorned with the choicest festoons of ancient 
 and modern literature, and all these issuing from a source 
 hitherto inexhaustible, never before so distinguished a 
 man. If nations were not suffered to go mad before they 
 are destroyed, the voice of Fox, raising itself in the midst 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 325 
 
 of corruption, false politics, and the abuses of a full 
 century, would yet be heard. 
 
 With these advantages of consistency, of integrity, of 
 political sagacity, of irresistible and lengthened argument, 
 no wonder if while he never condescends to personality, all 
 those over whom the influence of corruption has passed 
 seem to shrink under his presence. They have nothing to 
 fear. Fox never descends from the summit of his reputa- 
 tion. He knows that he has long been a spectacle to his 
 own countrymen and to neighboring nations, and, as if 
 standing in the presence of all Europe, he seems to hold 
 in his hand the record of his past life, while his eye pierces 
 down to posterity, in pledge of his future constancy to his 
 avowed principles. 
 
 Pitt you are willing to hear until he is exhausted. But 
 Fox first lays down an interesting position, fixes your earn- 
 est regard, and attaches you wholly to himself ; then by the 
 rapidity of his utterance hurries you on, not to immediate 
 conviction, for he is sure the minds of all are pressing 
 forward. Fearless of presuming on the patience of his 
 hearers, he is enabled to give free play to his feelings, to 
 his genius, to his learning, — all which united give an irre- 
 sistible force to his arguments, and would confound all 
 distinction between his friends and enemies, did not Pitt, 
 the sole support of his party at these moments, breaking 
 in upon the calm and silence of the solemn impression, 
 recall to a new conflict the wavering majority. 
 
 In one respect, Fox will forever be esteemed above his 
 contemporaries. Though he has grown gray in the opposi- 
 tion, he has never made one personal enemy. At the end 
 of a twenty year's contention, he is still considered a man 
 of a noble disposition ; and both in the moment of debate 
 and with the nation at large, he. still maintains the influ- 
 ence of his former days. 
 
326 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
 
 Mr. Windham is not an orator of that commanding pres- 
 ence which fixes confidence or attaches a party. Though 
 hardly an orator, lie is one of the most successful parti- 
 sans who. ever entered on the warfare of debate. Ilis grace- 
 ful person, his serious air, his bald head, joined to his de- 
 liberate, distinct utterance, give him at once a senatorial 
 dignity independent of his various intellectual forces. 
 
 I have seen Mr. Windham out of place only ; I have seen 
 him in pursuit of Mr. Addington. How he would appear 
 on the treasury bench, I can only imagine. In his pres- 
 ent scat he shows nothing but his talons ; and with all the 
 unfeeling instinct of the bird of prey, he fixes on the neck 
 of the minister, who, unlike Pitt, is vulnerable at every 
 point, and daily bleeds afresh. 
 
 Nothing great, nothing manly, nothing conciliatory mark 
 the course of Windham ; whether ho rises in meditated or 
 instantaneous assault, he points out at once the object of 
 his destruction. No disguise : the man cannot hide his fea- 
 tures ; it is forever the same inveterate spirit. " Idem hab- 
 itus oris, eadem contumacia in vultu, idem in orationc spir- 
 itus erat." ^ Passing by the plausible Hawkesbury, the 
 laborious York, and the elegant Castlereagh, auxiliaries of 
 the minister, Windham never suffers one of his arrows to 
 miss the heart of Addington. lie is as terrible to his 
 enemy as those enormous serpents which carry with them 
 threefold terror, — whose fangs are not less fatal than the 
 squeeze of their bodies, nor this less fatal than the lash 
 of their tails. His instant, downright attack precludes all 
 escape ; while his close logic, lengthened out by the wind- 
 ing subtlety of metaphysical reasoning, leaves his enemy 
 bound hand and foot. Not satisfied with this, and himself 
 not half exhausted, he collects all his sarcastic powers, 
 and begins a new onset, the most ferocious of the muses 
 
 1 Livy, ii. 61. 
 
LETTERS FROM LONDON. 327 
 
 waiting his pleasure, and opening all the stores of ridi- 
 cule, jest, and satire. 
 
 No wonder the Chancellor is chafed, no wonder he frets 
 in his seat ; his ministerial dignity suffers under the daily 
 ridicule, while his self-love is touched to the quick under 
 the ever new contempt of Windham, for no man ever pos- 
 sessed a more insidious, villifying talent at reproach, which 
 can neither be warded off nor retorted. It is not a single 
 taunt, and then a respite ; it is not a passing sneer which 
 is presently forgotten, but the ceaseless assault of the 
 fabled vulture. 
 
 Though Windham possesses a fine imagination, a strong 
 current of argument, and a various and extensive reach of 
 mind, adorned with the best portions of classic literature, 
 — add to these a fluency second only to Pitt's — yet the 
 ultimate requisite for a great orator is wanting, — I mean 
 passion, of which Windham is wholly destitute. He is 
 not deficient in violence ; but he shows at once a cold 
 heart and a passionate head, so that you follow him in- 
 differently. Before you can feel with Windham, you must 
 first hate the man whom he attacks. 
 
 However, Windham generally brings to the debate some- 
 thing new, something dazzling, something original ; and 
 when he does not add anything of his own, he displays the 
 question in its best possible position. Always perspicacious 
 and elegant, his words seem to flow from the press already 
 arranged, and exhibiting the fairest impression. In short, 
 Windham is one of the most interesting speakers in the 
 House ; and if he could suppress the black bile which con- 
 tinually flows from his mouth, if he could conceal his 
 bitterness, he would add new weight to his character, 
 would lose nothing of his senatorial dignity, and would 
 be the delight of the House of Commons. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
THE 
 
 HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The following Essay, I am sensible, is but a sketch. If 
 it have merit, it will be attributed to the design rather 
 than to the execution. The subject is worthy the hand 
 of a master, and is still open to much philosophical re- 
 search. I have endeavored to explore a new but indirect 
 source of argument in favor of the divinity of Jesus 
 Christ. For my support, I have relied on human nature, 
 and strengthened my proofs by illustration and parallel, 
 so far as illustration and parallel could be applicable to 
 the character. I thought it possible to render the subject 
 interesting to piety. Let the public judge. 
 
THE 
 
 HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST.^ 
 
 EVERY age has produced heroes, enthusiasts, and im- 
 postors. To rise pre-eminent over others is the 
 first wish of the human heart. After man ceases to be 
 wholly selfish, the predominant sensation expands itself 
 in comparison, which gradually awakens the ardor of 
 ambition. This restless feeling has a governing influence 
 on man in early life, and never entirely forsakes him until 
 he loses all confidence in himself. If the nature be gen- 
 erous and events propitious, they produce a great man ; 
 otherwise the disposition takes an eccentric turn. 
 
 It is not a singular circumstance in the annals of human 
 nature that every one of those heroes, enthusiasts, and im- 
 postors, the history of whose lives has been sufficiently 
 interesting to merit preservation, has been actuated by his 
 particular bias, and excited by motives which in his own 
 estimation were powerful, however weak or criminal they 
 were in the opinion of mankind. One man, already a con- 
 queror, thinks he must subject the world before the world 
 will acknowledge him a hero. Another, already a sover- 
 eign prince and perfectly at ease, proposes more than 
 mortal labors in order to enjoy a quiet old age. A third, 
 favored by the times, boldly associates himself with heaven 
 in order to govern the earth. A fourth, more humble 
 though not less ardent, clad in a hair shirt, is willing to 
 travel to Jerusalem, preaching a crusade. 
 
 1 First printed in 1807, for William Pelham, Boston. 
 
332 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 The characters of these men were so distinctly marked 
 in their own days, their inspiring motive was so apparent, 
 that succeeding ages have hecn contented to apjjcal to 
 them i'or illustration, or to raise commentaries on their 
 lives. Doubtless they all thought themselves paramount 
 to the common sense of mankind, and little less than 
 inspired, however romantic or absurd their object of pur- 
 suit. Hence the questions of magnanimity or of selfish- 
 ness, of imposture or of enthusiasm, will forever arise 
 while the pursuits of men tend to pre-eminence over their 
 contemporaries. 
 
 There is one person on record who has commanded the 
 attention of every succeeding age ; and, what is not a 
 little remarkable, it is not yet settled in what class of 
 character this person ought to be placed, notwithstanding 
 he has engaged the zeal, the curiosity, or the resentment 
 of the divine, the philosopher, and the statesman. He was 
 a person whose singular fate it has been to be accred- 
 ited by some whose lives reflected no honor on the object 
 of their adoration, and to be reviled by others whose moral 
 worth was never questioned. How, then, are we to esti- 
 mate a man whom many worship as a god, whom some 
 consider an enthusiast, and whom not a few revile as an 
 impostor ? 
 
 If the characters of all eminent men have been drawn 
 and judged from their lives and actions, why may not 
 we, confining ourselves to the human character of Jesus 
 Christ, reach the merits of the question by testing his 
 life and actions by the general principles of human nature, 
 or at least by those principles which usually influence 
 great men ? 
 
 In the reign of Augustus Caesar, and at a period famous 
 in the history of that time for an universal peace, an 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 333 
 
 infant, now universally known by the name of Jesus 
 Christ, was born at Bethlehem, a village of Galilee, a 
 Roman province. His parents, no doubt, moved in the 
 humblest walks of society, and during their whole lives, 
 notwithstanding the reputation of their son, remained in 
 obscurity. Their poverty and humility may readily be 
 supposed ; for the child was born in a manger, a cir- 
 cumstance which probably would not have been recorded 
 if family pride had been studious to conceal it, — unless, 
 like the story of Romulus and Remus, it was designed to 
 be the groundwork of a romantic tale ; or, as the child 
 appeared to be promising, to make his humble origin en- 
 hance his personal merit. But as no such uses as these 
 were ever made of his remarkable birth, it seems rea- 
 sonable to conclude that this was a well-known part of 
 their family history. 
 
 The education of a boy thus situated is generally con- 
 tracted and consistent with the narrow means of his parents. 
 Hence the adventures of Christ's childhood are singularly 
 barren of incident. Until the age of twelve years, it does 
 not appear whether he was grave or gay, ardent or reserved. 
 There is no mention of even one brilliant observation of 
 his sedate, nor one effusion of his more heedless, moments 
 which can be regarded as prophetic of his future character. 
 The cause of this is open to two remarks, both plausible, 
 though offering different conclusions. It may be said he 
 was just like other children, and showed nothing worthy 
 of particular notice. On the contrary, it may be replied, 
 that a more early revelation of himself might have dero- 
 gated from the dignity and importance of his purposes. 
 A boy-God could not so easily have supported a great mis- 
 sion. But neither of these remarks has much weight ; for 
 it seems he did exhibit himself to the world in early child- 
 hood, and then commanded the attention of the public. 
 
334 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 If the first wish of an obscure, inconsequential, but 
 aspiring young man should lead liira to associate with 
 the world, and to solicit public notice, it is nothing un- 
 common. Obscurity connected with ambition usually in- 
 spires the boldest confidence ; but it rarely happens that 
 a boy of real genius obtrudes himself on the busy world. 
 In the first moments of conscious, superior worth, the boy 
 of genius undergoes sensations wholly averse to its public 
 manifestation. He trembles in the glare of observation, 
 and flies from the presence of those whose attention he 
 is most anxious to arrest. This is natural ; the first open- 
 ings of a great mind overcome the heart. A new and 
 powerful sensation oppresses him ; he is jealous of otliers 
 and doubtful of himself. 
 
 At the age of twelve years, this boy found himself at 
 Jerusalem. His parents had taken him with them to cele- 
 brate an annual feast. To a child of common observation, 
 the city of Jerusalem must have been a source of much 
 surprise. How many questions and how many remarks 
 such a journey must have raised in a young mind ! His 
 soul must liave expanded in allusion and comparison. In 
 the midst of such a scene as Jerusalem presented to youth- 
 ful curiosity, every step would have awakened reflection. 
 Yet strange, not a single observation on human life, on the 
 city, or on the inhabitants appears to have escaped him, 
 who was too young for an impostor, and too simple for a 
 hypocrite. Stranger still, this ignorant boy, regardless of 
 all the novelties of the city and truant to his parents (who 
 had already left Jerusalem on their journey home), without 
 any introduction, alone, and ])robably in mean apparel, 
 proceeds to the Temple, the most famous jtlace in the city. 
 There he finds the most learned men in the country dis- 
 coursing on pul)lic afTairs. He seats himself in the midst 
 of them, and of a sudden enters into the debate. By the 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 335 
 
 singular pertinence and depth of his observations rather 
 than by any artifice of eloquence, he draws on himself the 
 attention of all. Soon they become astonished, and, drop- 
 ping their own concerns, regard the child with mixed feel- 
 ings of curiosity, awe, and wonder. 
 
 One might imagine that this early and brilliant success in 
 his first attempt to attract public admiration would have 
 fixed the predominant character of the man. If the tremu- 
 lous nerves of the Olympic victor were sometimes over- 
 powered in supporting the laurel which his corporal 
 strength had won, what must be the nature of him who 
 in youth receives with equanimity the more cherished and 
 flattering distinction which a powerful mind commands 
 from the willing, perhaps the unwilling, voices of his con- 
 temporaries ? Already, in imagination, the brightest 
 scenes open upon his manhood. The obscurity of his 
 family is forgotten. The trappings of honor will not 
 only clothe himself, but conceal the meanness of his 
 parents. Who will not follow him in the ardor of riper 
 years whom they reverence in childhood ? 
 
 We know nothing more of Jesus until he is thirty years 
 of age. Of this blank in his life, during a period of eigh- 
 teen years, every man must judge agreeably to his own 
 feelings and views of human nature ; but it must be 
 obvious to every one that this long obscurity is perhaps 
 the most extraordinary circumstance of his life. How 
 could a young man, conscious of talents, and contemptible 
 in that age both on account of his parentage and place of 
 nativity, sacrifice so long the laudable pride of raising his 
 family, or, possessed of more expanded feelings, of honor- 
 ing his native country ? Though age is slow and calcu- 
 lating, youth is hasty and clamorous of the present. How 
 could a youth, who at the age of twelve commanded the at- 
 tention of sages, preserve a silence during so many years ? 
 
336 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 Though prudence measures everything with her compasses, 
 genius is more rapid. How could a young man like Jesus, 
 whose nation was the reproach of the earth, bury himself 
 in the obscurity of Nazareth for so long a period of that 
 time when the passions are all alive, and when pleasure 
 engrosses the current moment, or ambition lays plans for 
 the future ? 
 
 At about the age of thirty, Jesus appeared again in pub- 
 lic. He was then in the ripeness of manhood, at a period 
 equally distant from the levity of youth and the sobriety of 
 age. He is reported to have been exceedingly beautiful in 
 his person, if you examined but one feature at a time ; but 
 his entire countenance raised in the beholder an interest 
 which immediately affected the heart. Sympathy, awe, 
 reverence, but chiefly reverence, were the prevailing senti- 
 ments he inspired. These were the features of his character 
 in the moment of repose. His stature was rather above 
 the common size, as was his person, and that was finely 
 proportioned. His hair was auburn, gracefully flowing 
 over his shoulders ; his steps were slow and firm, bespeak- 
 ing a man of purpose. The most brilliant complexion of 
 health adorned his checks, which, in conjunction with his 
 flowing beard — the fashion of those times — and a pierc- 
 ing hazel, yet unassuming eye, would have rendered him 
 altogether attractive, had not a high and gently retreating 
 forehead of the most perfect symmetry restrained famili- 
 arity, and impressed the beholder with an emotion of re- 
 spect. Though he appeared under every disadvantage, 
 under almost suspicious circumstances, it was impossible 
 to behold him without being in doubt as to the true char- 
 acter of the man. 
 
 Such is said to have been the personal nj^pcarance of 
 Jesus Christ. But who will undertake to portray the cast 
 of mind of one who at every step of his public life ran 
 
THE HUMAN CHAEACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 337 
 
 counter to the ordinary pursuits of common sense ? Yet 
 his public movements and public counsels offer sufficiently 
 distinct outlines from which to draw a character, not the 
 less to be mistaken for its entire originality. 
 
 Jesus Christ was endued not only with all those qualities 
 of mind which are considered the attributes of command, 
 and insure a superior standing among men, but he was still 
 more noted for the milder virtues. These, though less 
 splendid, are entitled to more merit, in that they are rarely 
 associated with strongly marked characters, are subjects of 
 attainment rather than gifts of Nature, and require a habit 
 of circumspection to preserve, and a constant exercise to 
 practise them ; but in Jesus the most opposite traits 
 seem to blend s6 naturally that you are in danger of 
 mistaking two virtues for a single one. His habitual 
 meekness and undaunted firmness, his all-subduing wis- 
 dom accompanied with a subtle sagacity, and his almost 
 childlike simplicity, never for a moment proved a foil to 
 one another. Perhaps no man ever possessed a more ready 
 versatility. The lowly life in which he was educated, was 
 not more familiar to him than the more ceremonious com- 
 pany of the Scribes, the Pharisees, and the Doctors of Law. 
 His easy conformity bespoke on all occasions a knowledge 
 of human nature which seemed to be intuitive. No man 
 ever approached him without being improved, or at least 
 laid open to self-inspection ; while his habitual calmness 
 and presence of mind gave him ascendency over the cap- 
 tious, whom he put down not by the force of argument, 
 but by a moral appeal to the heart, or by a happy illus- 
 tration of the matter in question, or frequently by the 
 method employed by Socrates, — by compelling the cap- 
 tious questioner to confute himself. It is worthy of re- 
 mark, also, that whatever this man spoke was addressed 
 to the heart and not to the head ; hence he was always 
 
 22 
 
338 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 irresistible, while tlic sinijilicity of his aj)})carancc and his 
 unassuming manners gave his wisdom a novel and all- 
 attracting charm. Unembarrassed with the doctrines of 
 the day, unversed in the subtleties of the schools, contemn- 
 ing the formal processes of logic, he made no claim to 
 learning. Original in everything, he seemed superior to all 
 his predecessors in fertility of mind. Doubtless owing to 
 his lack of learning, the sciences of Greece or of Rome were 
 never subjects of his appeal. Ilis own resources served 
 him instead of the light from other men ; and if he was 
 ever at a loss to explain himself or illustrate his subject, 
 the nearest object generally afforded the most lively proof 
 of his intuitive powers. The little child who happened to 
 be present is as strong an example of the readiness with 
 which he converted surrounding objects to his purposes 
 as the more ingenious, though artificial parable. Possessed 
 of such resources, where was the necessity of a display of 
 learning, or to what profit could Jesus use the embellish- 
 ments of rhetoric, when to enforce his doctrine a grain of 
 mustard-seed was ready to spring to a full-grown tree, in 
 whose branches all the fowls of the air might lodge ? His 
 was not the eloquence of the Sophists. True eloquence 
 must affect the heart ; if the heart be not affected, how- 
 ever deeply engaged the head may be, it is no longer elo- 
 quence, — it is argument. If Christ Avas not a finished 
 orator by the rules of art, he was the first of orators by 
 the force of nature. Suffice it for others to insinuate 
 themselves, to watch the propitious turn of indifl'crence, 
 and gain in an hour what they cannot command in a 
 moment ; suffice it for others to beguile their hearers by 
 the subtleties of the schools, by splendid figures, by ajit 
 illustrations, by strong allusions. The orator, however suc- 
 cessfully he may use these advantages, betrays only a bar- 
 renness of mind compared with the powers of him who 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 339 
 
 speaks only to the heart, and can at one effort convert his 
 hearers into disciples. 
 
 No doubt there was a peculiar and agreeable manner of 
 address accompanying the discourses of Jesus. It cannot 
 be supposed but that the graces of his person, — his ruddy 
 complexion, still more spiritual in the moment of anima- 
 tion, his piercing eyes, mild or commanding at pleasure, 
 his fixed and ingenuous countenance, — added much to 
 his success ; yet there certainly was an unknown, secret 
 charm attending this man who was free from any affec- 
 tation of applause. 
 
 There was nothing popular in his manner ; he never 
 seemed to make an effort. How, then, was he always so 
 ascendant over his followers, or rather, how did he collect 
 so many followers ? With the famous orators of that age 
 and the preceding ages, graceful gestures, an animated 
 eye, frequent violence of action, passionate invocations 
 and appeals were the by-road to persuasion ; with Jesus 
 expression rendered unnecessary any exertion of voice or 
 of person. Expression in him was action, passion, man- 
 ner, address, — everything. This was the mighty power, 
 the unattainable power, which is said to have produced 
 such strange effects, whether he rose upon the multitude 
 in the terror of his wrath or addressed them in the tone 
 of charity and compassion ; whether he overwhelmed the 
 assuming Pharisee or raised the humble publican. It was 
 this inconceivable, this mysterious expression which so 
 much perplexed his hearers as to the nature of tlie person. 
 
 Why, then, did not this man succeed in life ? " He was 
 not ambitious." But was not his public appearance a suf- 
 ficient proof of his ambition ? — for without ambition no 
 man throws himself on the public. Why, then, did not this 
 man succeed in life ? " He knew not how to embody the 
 passions of men, and to point their direction." Yet this 
 
340 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 man. in a chance walk, in a first interview, could enlist two 
 fishermen in his service, and fix them in his interest during 
 their future lives. Why, then, did not this man succeed in 
 life ? " lie knew not how to adapt himself to the age in 
 which he lived." Yet no man ever possessed an equal 
 facility of hending to times and circumstances, though in 
 truth no man — no, not Cato or Socrates — ever yielded 
 less to the principles of his age. Besides, Cato and Socrates 
 gained all their reputation and influence by resisting their 
 age ; and it might have been pardonable in Jesus, a man 
 of obscure birth, had he sacrificed a little to popularity, 
 especially as he did not associate himself with the Stoics, 
 or profess himself an adherent of any one of the prevailing 
 systems of the day. The rigid Cato betrayed his prin- 
 ciples in some degree by carrying a servant with him, who 
 pointed out the citizens by name, lest in shaking hands 
 Cato might seem not to recognize his friends. Nothing of 
 this sort is attributed to Socrates ; yet it ought to be con- 
 sidered that Socrates was a retired philosopher, while 
 Christ and Cato were public characters. Nor, in my opin- 
 ion, is there so strong a resemblance between the Nazarene 
 and Athenian as many have noticed. Socrates led a quiet, 
 contemplative, theoretical life, and either from indolence 
 or contempt of foreign nations, closeted himself at Athens, 
 and scarcely professed himself a public character, much 
 less the reformer of his nation. 
 
 The short career of Jesus was the reverse of this ; and 
 though many have been at a loss to discover a substantial 
 motive for his action, no one has denied him an uncommon 
 ardor in his pursuits. Therefore his want of success either 
 supposes a great defect of character, or throws a veil of 
 mystery over the man ; for it cannot be concealed that a 
 strange and fatal inconsistency seemed to precede every 
 step of Jesus. What a contrast between the mind and the 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 341 
 
 actions of the man ! Never before was there seen such a 
 powerful mind apparently counteracting itself. We search 
 in vain to find the slenderest tie of connection between the 
 mind and the conduct, the passions and pursuits of the 
 man. Had he lived longer, he possibly might have 
 unfolded himself. 
 
 If candor should temper suspicion over the grave of a 
 character we do not understand, the motives of Christ 
 ought not to be prejudged. That man must be a consum- 
 mate hypocrite who lays down the fairest system of virtue 
 on which to raise a monument of usurped power. The 
 man who clothes himself in humility in order to steal a 
 robe of State, must be superior to all his contemporaries. 
 In the road to sovereignty, who ever descended to the 
 offices of a servant ? In pursuit of a royal crown, who 
 ever underwent the public mockery of a crown of thorns ? 
 Few have seriously charged Jesus with such motives. 
 Human nature is more consistent, and human motives 
 are less refined. 
 
 However, let the motives of Christ be estimated as vari- 
 ously as the various views of mankind, still his public life 
 is not a less interesting subject of remark. We will draw 
 a little nearer the man, and accompany him to the end 
 of his life, — it is but one year more, — to his singular 
 catastrophe. 
 
 We must now imagine to ourselves an original character, 
 who, conscious of his own extraordinary powers, had pur- 
 posely reserved himself until he could appear the most as- 
 cendant among men. As he was an obscure subject of a 
 conquered nation which had sunk into a Roman province, 
 whatever were his views, he might esteem it most prudent 
 to reserve himself until the moment of his mature charac- 
 ter. Hitherto he had conducted himself like a wary adven- 
 turer ; and his succeeding movements were far from raising 
 
342 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 suspicion, lie neither forced himself, like an adventurer, 
 on opportunity, nor even calmly waited its approach. If it 
 was the first concern of Jesus to win to himself a numerous 
 party, the method that he took, though at first successful, 
 displayed a total ignorance of human nature, and left a 
 blemish which marks an incomplete character ; for it is a 
 blemish in a great man to lend himself to half of the 
 community in despair of gaining the whole. 
 
 The first adventure of Jesus, though perfectly consistent 
 with the future tenor of his life, has no parallel. So extra- 
 ordinary is it, that had it been related of any other person, 
 it must have disappeared long since among a thousand 
 fleeting fictions, or at best have preserved itself in some re- 
 pository like the Arabian Nights. Alone, friendless, and 
 meanly clad, unassuming, and destitute of every means of 
 inducement except that mysterious expression of which we 
 have already spoken, Jesus meets two fishermen, brothers, 
 busy with their nets. In all probability they had never 
 seen him before, had never heard of him, and knew nothing 
 of the man or of his designs. Possibly they were young 
 men in the rich enjoyment of domestic happiness ; j)rob- 
 ably they were poor men, to whose daily industry a help- 
 less, affectionate family looked for daily support ; perhaps 
 they were desperate in their circumstances, of careless life, 
 of reckless principles, and ready for any adventure. Yet 
 Jesus made them no promises, he awakened no i)assion, 
 he applied himself neither to their ambition, nor to their 
 avarice — no, nor to their love of pleasure, to such men the 
 passion most present ; he neither revealed his designs nor 
 tempted their curiosity. " Follow me," said he, " and I 
 will make you fishers of men." In a moment, without hesi- 
 tation, sooner than reason could dictate a resolution, they 
 deserted all. In a moment, this world had (Iwindiod in 
 their estimation to a point, and a new scene oiiened to 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 343 
 
 their imaginations, — which scene, thougli apparently as 
 unsubstantial as a moonbeam, turned the future current of 
 their lives. Although they fared hard and were generally 
 despised as vagabonds of a new kind, yet they never 
 forsook him, until, become dubious of heaven and earth, 
 they saw the man arrested and led like a felon to a death 
 more ignominious than that of the gibbet. This was no 
 miracle ; but to me it is a miracle. It is a miracle in hu- 
 ♦ man nature, and therefore less liable to suspicion than a 
 wrought miracle in the natural world. 
 
 Thus this extraordinary man in a chance walk by the 
 sea of Galilee, beckoned to two fishermen, and in a mo- 
 ment fixed them forever in his interest. With Mahomet 
 it was a labor of three years to gain fourteen proselytes ; 
 and Mahomet possessed all those attributes of man which 
 are capable of winning an enemy, or of commanding a 
 friend. Before Mahomet spoke, says tradition, he was in 
 possession of his audience, his presence charmed them, 
 his gracious smile won them, his majestic aspect com- 
 manded them, his piercing eyes fixed them, while his 
 countenance revealed every sensation of his soul, and his 
 gestures enforced every expression of his tongue. Yet Ma- 
 homet distrustful as to his own eloquence, and doubtful 
 of success, as soon as he had collected a few partisans 
 furnished himself with a sword, and proclaimed himself a 
 captain. Christ, on the contrary, when most famous and 
 successful never fully expanded his views, but retained 
 all his humility, and even condescended to wash the feet of 
 his disciples. Mahomet, like Christ, promised heaven to his 
 followers ; but Mahomet, brandishing his sword, declared 
 that sword to be the key of heaven. Christ, on the con- 
 trary, opened the gates of heaven to the repentant. Here 
 he alarmed the conscience. With Mahomet, to conquer 
 others was the crown of glory ; with Jesus, to conquer one- 
 
344 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 self. T(i the followers of the one, this world offered every- 
 thing; to the followers of the other, this world promised 
 nothinir. Mahomet opened a new world to the imagina- 
 tion, and added flame to fire. What oriental could hesi- 
 tate to follow the banners of Mahomet, when the houries 
 of Paradise, dancing among the palm-trees, beckoned the 
 fierce soldier to the delirium of eternal rapture ? Jesus, 
 with one hand laid on his heart, pointed u})ward with the 
 other, and held his followers by no other tic than a sub- 
 lime faith. Mahomet gained everything; Christ suffered 
 everything. Mahomet lived a conqueror, and died glori- 
 ously ; Jesus lived like a vagrant, and suffered a felon's 
 death. Mahomet established a new religion by bribing the 
 passions ; Jesus Christ by taxing the passions. 
 
 Passing on, Jesus sees two other fishermen with their 
 father, on shipboard. They were mending their nets. " Fol- 
 low me," said Jesus, and they left all and followed him. 
 Soon the little company swells to a multitude. From all 
 quarters, people of many descriptions flock to his presence. 
 His fame is already extended to distant regions, even to 
 Syria. Does tlie man not perceive he is hastening his own 
 destruction ? Is it not treason under Tiberius to be found 
 at the head of so many men in a Roman province ? What 
 is his object ? Is it temporal power ? What weakness to 
 collect an army without one soldier ! Is honest fame or the 
 more im])Osing attractions of false greatness the object of 
 his heart ? What folly to collect around him the most ig- 
 norant, the most obscure, and the most abandoned I 
 
 At the head of tliis checkered multitude, few of whom 
 knew the man, or knew the motives of one another; at 
 the head of this suspicious collection of idle, curious, 
 wondering followers. Jesus, himself in appearance not 
 less suspicious, ascended an eminence, and there seating 
 himself, delivered a moral lecture. Never before was the 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 345 
 
 world illuminated with such a discourse. Never before 
 did such sublime precepts distil from the lips of a mortal. 
 From that day forth, the heathen sages lost their credit. 
 Their fine-spun casuistry sunk under the weight of a 
 sublime moral ; their patch-work morality was trampled 
 under foot and disgraced forever ; all their good was 
 melted into this half-hour moral discourse. No won- 
 der its force and novelty astonished the multitude. No 
 wonder they stood looking to heaven in doubt, and were 
 ready to follow him at hazard. How could they help re- 
 posing all their confidence in the man whose unpremedi- 
 tated discourse entered into every precinct of their hearts, 
 and in humbling them by bringing to light all that was 
 base, at the same time elevated them above this world by 
 disclosing to them a sublime affinity ? That man, who, 
 after laying open to men their hearts, can lead them at 
 his pleasure, has surely found the principle which governs 
 mankind. At this day we can only imagine the expression 
 of the man's countenance ; the power of his words all 
 men have felt. The charm of his words as uttered has 
 departed, the beauty of his discourse is blemished by a 
 halting translation, and the order is broken by chapter 
 and verse ; but the substance remains, and will forever 
 remain, an object of curiosity to taste or of improvement 
 to piety. 
 
 Human nature was thought to be raised by the Stoics to 
 a dignity scarcely its own. But their moral austerity 
 counteracted itself, and produced a pride and intolerance 
 not always compatible with social life. The discourse of 
 Jesus on the Mount gave a moral which, though built 
 on humility, transcended the severity of the Stoics, and 
 taught man what he ought to be rather than what he 
 might be. The Stoics made no allowance for human 
 frailty. Even the milder virtues were treated with con- 
 
346 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 tempt. Pity was a weakness, compassion a crime ; and 
 love was divested not only of sentiment, but of heart. 
 They tied up the passions, and chastised the sensations. 
 Though he struck at the root of man's pride, Christ 
 offered no violence to man's nature. He offered no new 
 system ; he who addresses the human heart should never 
 think of a system. 
 
 But why did not the civil authority arrest the progress 
 of this man ? We have already told the cause. Christ 
 never offered a system. Of all men he was apparently 
 least solicitous of reputation ; for though he commanded 
 at pleasure the passions of others, he never manifested a 
 passion of his own. Besides, his public life was too un- 
 sociable for popularity, rather inspiring reverence than 
 courting favor, — though in a private circle he was willing 
 to adapt himself, and sometimes lent his presence to domes- 
 tic assemblies. A man of this description, whose constant 
 doctrine seemed to impress on his followers the duty of 
 obedience, and even of acquiescence under every form of 
 government, could not be obnoxious to the Roman author- 
 ity of that day. Patience and resignation to others, is the 
 doctrine most agreeable to a tyrant. Hence the cause of 
 the persecution of this man must have been more deep 
 and insidious than any alarm on the part of the civil au- 
 thority. But was Jesus an advocate for arbitrary })ower ? 
 Not Brutus was less so. With the feelings of a prophet, 
 and with an unerring political foresight, he addressed 
 himself, in general, to that great body of the community 
 which in all countries and in all ages can find little on 
 which to repose but a naked faith. Did he side with the 
 rich against the poor ? Not Aristides was more just. Pid 
 he inspirit the poor against the rich ? Not Thurlow was 
 more austere. Tlie sagacity of Josus led him to foresee 
 that under everv form of 'jovernmcnt tlie strong would prey 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 347 
 
 upon the weak ; that the rich would oppress the poor ; that 
 human society was just like the pyramid, the bottom of 
 which must forever support the whole weight ; and that 
 unless there was a sympathy on the one part and a moral 
 feeling on the other, the union of men in society would 
 beget a system of aggression and antagonism. No, Jesus 
 offered no new system ; he only sublimated the religion 
 of Nature. Regardless of forms and ceremonies, in the 
 midst of the single institution, — the social board of bread 
 and wine, — he taught his disciples to look directly to 
 heaven. 
 
 Nor was the civil power alarmed at this man's sudden 
 renown. It was an admiration that followed rather than 
 a popularity that was courted. Jesus never remained in 
 one place a sufficient length of time for a sedition, much 
 less for a conspiracy, to gain consistency. For whenever 
 the people assembled in multitudes, it was his constant 
 practice to retire speedily to some other city or village ; 
 so that a sedition, although most terrible in a despotic 
 government, in that it is never without cause, was not 
 feared by the Roman authority in Judea, from the public 
 carriage of Jesus. 
 
 In this manner Jesus travelled over the principal parts 
 of his country, evidently devoted to some pursuit, the 
 object of which was doubtless in his own opinion superior 
 to any of those attainments which usually excite the pas- 
 sions of men ; for in the ardor of his purposes, Jesus 
 overlooked all those objects which were most dear to the 
 great men of antiquity, and likewise money, the passion of 
 the present day. With a mind at once solid and brilliant, 
 which seemed to place its chief delight in the conception 
 of the sublimest moral truths, he left all his fame as a 
 philosopher to the treacherous ears of an ignorant multi- 
 tude, or to the care of a few associates who possibly could 
 
348 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 not write their names ! With a courage that never turned 
 from an enemy, and with a firmness that encountered the 
 whole Oj^position of the Pharisees, this man submitted to be 
 spit upon, to be buffeted, to be smitten, and to be scourged. 
 With pretensions to arrogate everything, this man claimed 
 nothing; and only once complained that while the birds 
 had nests, and the foxes had holes, he himself had not 
 where to lay his head. In the midst of a people who were 
 ready to worship him as a god, he was content to be derided 
 as an impostor. In the midst of a people whose favor was 
 ready to outstrip the wings of his expectation, Jesus sunk 
 upon the public below Barabbas the robber. Yet, what 
 is no less extraordinary, he lived perfectly contented, — 
 neither envying the rich nor despising the poor. Nor did 
 he endeavor to ameliorate the severity of his condition, or 
 even to shun the ignominy of his fate, — a pathetic pre- 
 sentiment of which he expressed a short time before his 
 death. Yet this man, always in the depths of poverty, was 
 reputed to work miracles ; but the greatest miracle of all 
 is, he never wrought one in his own favor. In such a 
 case would not any other man have exerted his power to 
 control his wants, or even to insure his pleasures ? Would 
 not an Oriental have turned water into wine for his own 
 use ? Instead of a life of penance and penury would not 
 the congenial climate of Judea have insj)ired convivial 
 gratifications ? Instead of practising complete abstinence 
 and chastity would not an Oriental, whose blood usually 
 flows in a fiery current or trembles in a voluptuous lan- 
 guor, have converted the very cedars of Lebanon into 
 a harem ? Yet this temperate Nazarene preferred the 
 brook or the rivulet to the joys of the vintage. Yet this 
 humljlc Nazarene travelled over Judea on foot, and never 
 rode but once, and then in a manner that seemed to 
 court the contempt of the })opulace. Yet this self-deny- 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 349 
 
 ing Nazarene frequented the tables of a Wapping and a 
 St. Giles. Yet this Nazarene was as exemplary in his 
 affections as though he had been dipped every morning 
 in the river Cydnus. 
 
 The fame of Jesus had now extended throughout Judea. 
 Many of the genteel class, including not a few of the chief 
 rulers, publicly whispered their doubts whether the man 
 was not a supernatural being. This suddenly alarmed the 
 Jewish hierarchy ; and this was the ruin of Jesus. The 
 disinterestedness of his morality, his simplicity of life, his 
 quaker-like inoffensiveness, might have saved him from 
 persecution had he foregone that attribute which claimed 
 the adoration of mortals, and which, in the opinion of the 
 Jewish authority, stamped him at once an impostor. This 
 unprecedented pretension would alone have rendered him 
 dangerous to all those who dreaded a change ; for when 
 once a religion is established, the presiding god is not 
 permitted to interfere. The eloquence of Jesus was fre- 
 quently directed against the chief priests, the Scribes, and 
 the Pharisees. Imprudent man ! He might have known 
 that every establishment, religious or civil, is cruel and 
 unrelenting in the degree it is perverted. Yet Jesus pur- 
 sued these hypocrites even into their sanctuaries, and over- 
 whelmed them in their own temples. This an effort of 
 enthusiasm ? No ; their silence confirmed their conviction, 
 and confessed the triumph of reason. If this man had 
 seconded their views ; if this man had thrown off his 
 sackcloth, and doubly fringed his garments ; if this man 
 had associated with the chief priests and the Jewish au- 
 thority — and why did he not, if he was an impostor ? 
 — if this man had only consented to become wliat his 
 countrymen were more than ready to make him, — doubt- 
 less his abilities must have rendered him an illustrious 
 adventurer. 
 
350 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 The cliaracter of that age is well known. The Jewish 
 liierarehy was paramount to the law of Moses. The cere- 
 mony of the tithe of mint, of annisc, and of cummin was 
 retained ; even the seat of Moses was respected, but the 
 spirit of the lawgiver had departed. The mantle of Elijah, 
 long since worn threadbare, had been cast off for the fine 
 linen of the East, — an emblem of hierarchical purity! 
 Imprudent man ! Did he not know that under such a sys- 
 tem virtue is odious, and truth is treason ? Did he not 
 know that the man who dares attempt to bring back a cor- 
 rupted age to first principles is worthy of death ? Surely 
 if this man was an impostor, of all men he was most weak. 
 He associated with the people, who were nothing, and neg- 
 lected the hierarchy, who, far more commanding than any 
 hierarchy of the present day, were supposed to possess the 
 fabulous key of the Roman Church. 
 
 Now opens upon us a new trait in the character of Jesus. 
 The meek, the humble, the modest son of Mary is no longer 
 a wanderer from village to village, he no longer retires to 
 the mountains, or frequents the sea-shores, but boldly pro- 
 ceeds to the temple, — that very temple in which at the age 
 of twelve years he had astonished all who heard him. 
 There, in the midst of a multitude of enemies, in the 
 temple of the Most High God, regardless of the reverence 
 of the place, his only weapon the law of Moses, he throws 
 himself in the face of the whole hierarchy. Tlie Scribes 
 and Pharisees, heartless as their own principles, are con- 
 founded ; for such is the dauntless attitude of the man, and 
 such the nol)le frankness of his carriage, such the heart- 
 a])palling terror of his rebuke, and such the overbearing 
 vehemence of his reproach, that every passion of the hie- 
 rarchy, except love of office, sinks under his superior pres- 
 ence. Though these huml)led, proud men were clothed in 
 authority, though an immediate apprehension was ju-acti- 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 351 
 
 cable, not a whisper came from the lips of even one of the 
 chief priests, not a motion from a Scribe, not a murmur 
 from a Pharisee. They wondered at the deformity of one 
 another, but each retained his own features. In contem- 
 plating the picture, they seemed for a moment to for- 
 get the painter. The Scribe revolted at the moral aspect 
 of the Pharisee, while the Pharisee looked coldly upon 
 the chief priests, and the latter, in turn, regarded both 
 the others with scorn. 
 
 It was no doubt a novel scene to behold a man whose 
 romantic life and mysterious pursuits readily raised a 
 suspicion of enthusiasm or of imposture boldly enter, in 
 the character of a reformer, that temple which the Jews 
 either from policy or superstition contended was the favor- 
 ite earthly residence of the Uncreated. It was no doubt 
 a novel scene to the hierarchy to behold this man not only 
 usurp their office, but turn upon themselves with an unex- 
 pected violence and indignation. Doubtless truth and con- 
 viction must have pointed every expression, or Jesus must 
 have raised a corresponding violence and indignation ; 
 instead of which, the eyes of the whole hierarchy, fearful of 
 the obscure Nazarene, are turned on themselves. Had Mo- 
 ses himself appeared in the temple, treading on sunbeams, 
 his head concealed in the dark cloud which once appeared 
 on Sinai, and holding in his hands a scroll of the decalogue, 
 they had not been more embarrassed, they had not been 
 more astonished. Never in Greece or Rome did any orator 
 so readily triumph over his adversaries ; and never did any 
 orator — no, not Cicero nor Burke — venture to exhibit 
 a public criminal in such repellent colors as those in which 
 this carpenter's son presumed to portray the characters 
 of fairest repute in Jerusalem. It was an overwhelm- 
 ing attack, not only on their system but on themselves. 
 They were unprepared with the least apology, and the 
 
352 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 charges were brought so completely home tliat all reply 
 was precluded. 
 
 This was one of those moral risks which reveal the man 
 no less clearly than do the more brilliant actions of the 
 hero ; and perhaps this moral experiment on the Jewish 
 hierarchy was at once the most sublime and successful 
 effort of indignant virtue which the world ever witnessed. 
 Let us contemplate it for a moment. 
 
 It demanded an uncommon firmness, I had almost said 
 a madness, of mind to pronounce in the face of the nation 
 the fiercest judgment on those who still arrogated to them- 
 selves the seat of Moses, those whom ages had rendered 
 sacred in the eyes of the people. There was in the pub- 
 lic opinion, both in that and in all preceding ages, such 
 an intimate connection between the emblem and the sub- 
 stance of religion, between the priest and the national 
 divinity, that a contempt of the god was more readily par- 
 doned than an impiety to his priests. This indeed was 
 natural, as the priests governed the gods, not the gods the 
 priests. Hence no less a man than Alcibiades, who at 
 various periods of his life was the most popular man at 
 Athens, excited the puljlic horror from a bare suspicion 
 of his having wantonly broken some of the statues of Mer- 
 cury, and of his having acted in mockery at the conclu- 
 sion of an entertainment (the awful Eleusinean mysteries), 
 — not to mention Anaxagoras, and after him Protagoras, 
 famous philosophers, Avho were thought to merit banish- 
 ment for want of faith ; or Socrates, reposing in his ol'd 
 age on a life as venerable for its virtue as were his locks 
 for their whiteness, who was hurried before the tribunal 
 of his country, and condemned to the hemlock for a sup- 
 posed disrespect to the religious feelings of his country- 
 men. Yet Jesus, supported only by his own presence, 
 regardless of common prudence, and moi-c dauntless than 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 353 
 
 either of those Greeks, always reserved his most unwel- 
 come discourses for the ears of liis enemies. Looking 
 around on the hierarchy, who were watching an occasion 
 for a quarrel, Jesus colored with indignation ; and while 
 he saw the abuses of many ages lie light on their hearts, 
 he did not wait for the tide of their malice to meet the 
 gathering of his own rebuke, but he silenced them for- 
 ever with a " Woe unto you, Scribes, Pharisees, hypo- 
 crites ! " Yet his wrath, the wrath of a generous mind, 
 subsided in a moment, and like a sovereign judge who 
 pities while he condemns, he moderated his fierce judg- 
 ments in that most pathetic appeal : " O Jerusalem, Je- 
 rusalem, how often would I have gathered thy children 
 together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her 
 wings, and ye would not ! " 
 
 It was sufficient glory for Demosthenes to deliver his 
 philippics in the midst of all Athens. Philip heard them 
 not at Macedon ; and when the orator, in the character 
 of an ambassador, waited on the king, the wretch was 
 confounded. Cicero gained half his honors from Cati- 
 line ; yet Cicero, in the midst of the Roman senate, trem- 
 bled in the face of his enemy. Burke had collected all 
 the indignant epithets of the East and the West, and 
 safely, in a British parliament, aimed them at the ob- 
 noxious Hastings. Where sliall we find a man who, un- 
 supported and apparently disinterested, has hazarded so 
 much as Jesus Christ ? 
 
 It is impossible for such a man as this to flourish 
 long in a corrupted state of society. Passive, negative 
 virtue is not only tolerated, but sometimes applauded in 
 the most degenerate condition of man ; but when an ad- 
 ministration of government lends itself to national de- 
 pravity, and the civil authority finds that it can gain 
 most in the worst times, a man of active public virtue 
 
 23 
 
354 Tin: HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 is more odious Ihan any object whom positive law may 
 reach. Such a man cannot be endured; the splendor of 
 his virtues darkens all around him ; the vital heat of 
 his influence withers up the artificial growth of the holi- 
 day virtues of his contemporaries in power. To a barren 
 soil the early and latter rain is scarcely grateful ; the 
 meridian sun is death to the heartless verdure. Those in 
 power soon become sick of hearing Aristides called the 
 just. For the same cause the virtuous Gilbert Wakefield 
 was sacrificed in the prime of life, and the much en- 
 during Priestley hardly found respite on the frontiers of 
 the wilderness. 
 
 Jesus must have known that his feelings and prin- 
 ciples were wholly averse to the manners of his age, 
 and that he could not long be endured. Yet how melan- 
 choly for a man in the bloom of manhood, before his 
 mother had experienced the pleasure of a mother in par- 
 taking of the fame of her son ; before his associates, whose 
 strong faith laughed at the idea of his catastrophe, had 
 witnessed the ])ublic homage and consequent honors which 
 they thought due to his character, — how melancholy for a 
 man, conscious of his claims on society, to die so young, 
 and like a malefactor, while his dearest relatives must 
 necessarily partake of the ignominy of his fate I How 
 abhorrent to his own nature to die so ignobly, while his 
 heroic firmness was scarcely a counterl)alance to the 
 extreme sensil/ility of his moral feelings ! 
 
 " Yet Socrates died with equal fortitude, and perhaps 
 with greater resignation." Socrates was seventy-two 
 years of age, had outlived his contemporaries, was famous 
 throughout Greece, and in the sanction of the Oracle 
 was the best man of his times. To a philoso|)hor, life 
 has few charms after seventy. Of this ojunion was 
 Socrates, and it mingled ilsclf with the reasons of his 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 355 
 
 • 
 
 resignation. Among five hundred judges, Socrates was 
 condemned by a majority of three. He was still in 
 possession of his fame and virtue. 
 
 Socrates lost notliing but his life, while Jesus suffered 
 many deaths. Where were his friends in the trying 
 moment ? Where was Peter ? Denying with an oath that 
 he had ever seen the man ! Where was the beloved John ? 
 The beloved John had fled. To whom could Jesus look 
 for comfort ? To his wretched mother, who saw him 
 nailed to the cross, and watched his last struggles. 
 
 To Socrates, life in a great measure was indifferent. 
 To Jesus this was impossible. At the age of thirty-three, 
 though the rosy fragrance of youth has departed, hope 
 still gladdens the heart ; the substance of life remains 
 in perspective although its brightness may be faded. So 
 that whether Jesus was possessed with the spirit of en- 
 thusiasm, of imposture, or of pure virtue, life must have 
 been exceedingly dear to him ; for whatever was his object 
 he left it apparently unaccomplished. He had neither 
 reformed the age, conquered his enemies, nor advanced 
 himself. Apparently, his life was less useful tlian that 
 of Socrates ; his virtue was too strong, too exacting for 
 the times. Socrates, on the contrary, was always per- 
 suasive ; and this was necessary in the declining virtue of 
 the Athenians. Jesus was always imperative, and spoke 
 like a god rather than like a man. This, seemingly, 
 was the height of imprudence; yet this was his man- 
 ner from the beginning, and in this he persevered to the 
 moment of his death. His last expressions, especially, 
 indicated that he was an enthusiast, an impostor, or a 
 Heaven-ordained messenger. 
 
 The hierarchy soon discovered their own emptiness. The 
 contempt which the unprotected inconsequence of Jesus 
 was ready to excite, gave a powerful effect to the earnest 
 
356 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 simplicity of his manner, and impressed his enemies with 
 a sort of mysterious terror. They well knew that a re- 
 former whose manners were serious, whose morals were 
 unexceptionable, whose firmness prepossessed the confi- 
 dence of the indifferent, and whose ready eloquence seemed 
 to take in ideas with his eyes and impress them with his 
 looks, would soon effect a change of affairs. Hence 
 they naturally resolved on his death. It was ever the 
 opinion of a majority, that an enemy however virtuous had 
 better die than that they should lose their influence. They 
 seemed to say : " The blood of one man, imputed to many, 
 would scarcely stain their hands. In all human proba- 
 bility, the miserable Nazarene would be forgotten in a 
 short time, and his disappointed associates, ashamed of 
 his fate, would be the first to revile the impostor, or 
 laugh at the enthusiast. Let his partisans behold him 
 dead ; let them witness his terrible catastrophe, and the 
 delusion is over. No mortal ever worshipped a dead god, 
 or erected a temple under a gibbet." Thou short-sighted 
 Scribe ! Thou blind Pharisee ! In the opinion of a thou- 
 sand generations that dead man will revive again ; a frag- 
 ment of that infamous cross will be esteemed a sacred 
 relic ; that temple in which his presence confounded you 
 shall one day be destroyed, and his presence shall be sup- 
 posed to fill tlio temple of tlio universe. 
 
 Consistent from the beginning, Jesus neither courted nor 
 shunned his enemies. In the moment of his arrest he ex- 
 hibited a magnanimity which has never been surpassed. 
 They approached him cautiously, but Jesus, suspecting 
 their errand, first accosted them: "Whom seek ye?" 
 "Jesus of Nazareth." "I am the man." There is the 
 sublime in Nature, the sul)lime in sentiment, the sublime 
 in action, and the sul)limo in ehnrnoter. Of all these 
 the sublime in character is most admirable. Nothing from 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 357 
 
 the mouth of any other man under similar circumstances 
 has equalled this reply of Jesus. The " Strike, but hear 
 me " of Themistocles has deservedly been celebrated ; 
 the expression of Socrates in a moment of anger charm- 
 ingly illustrates his presence of mind ; the reply of the 
 Indian savage, " We are enemies," when asked his opinion 
 of another, was perhaps an unconscious expression of sub- 
 limity ; and the " Myself " of Corneille is more elevated 
 than either, but the whole merit of the latter is due to 
 Corneille. It is nothing but a sublime conception of the 
 poet fitted on a great character ; whereas " I am the 
 man " embraces not only the sublime of character, but 
 also the sublime of action. 
 
 " I am the man," said Jesus, and surrendered himself. 
 No resistance, no evasion, no attempt to escape dishonored 
 his past life. Regardless of himself, he was apprehensive 
 for his friends only ; and when they were dismissed, this 
 eloquent man was dumb. The same presence of mind 
 and the same dignity which had accompanied him during 
 his active life, accompanied him during the mockery of 
 a judicial process. A short time before he had silenced 
 the astonished hierarchy ; now he is arraigned a public 
 criminal, — his life and reputation are at hazard. Perhaps 
 he foresees his fate ; yet surely he will make one last effort 
 to redeem his own memory from suspicion, and render jus- 
 tice to the motives of his followers. Surely, they may 
 have thought a man like Jesus, who had been so copious 
 of promises, who had parcelled out twelve thrones in 
 heaven to twelve poor men, would not in his last moments 
 desert those who had so honorably supported him, those 
 whose faith at all times was ready to surpass their 
 senses. Surely, a man whose life had been devoted to 
 partisans, whose sacrifices to him were perhaps greater 
 than his to them, would not desert his followers. 
 
358 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 It was magnanimous in Socrates to wrap himself up in 
 his past life. Socrates stood alone ; no one had risked his 
 fortunes, his reputation, or his common sense on the char- 
 acter or principles of Socrates. It was magnanimous in 
 Scipio, when unjustly accused, to preserve a contemptuous 
 silence. It was magnanimous and sufficient for Chatham, 
 when it was insinuated in Parliament that the iiublic 
 moneys had been plundered, to raise his trembling, death- 
 white hand and shake it in presence of the nation, signify- 
 ing that no gold had stuck to his fingers. 
 
 The case of Jesus was different; no private individual, 
 before or since, ever possessed such an easy and unlimited 
 control over his fellow-men. How, then, must his followers 
 have been astonished, when they heard the account of his 
 dumb and passive death ! What less than a public ha- 
 rangue, what less than an exposition of his principles 
 and views could his disciples expect ? And what a field 
 for his own feelings ! The man might have carried his 
 whole soul into the eyes of his enemies. An emanation 
 of his own virtue might have passed over and for a mo- 
 ment i)urificd all his judges. His life was public ; and 
 would it have been derogatory in him to appeal to his 
 public life ? Might he not have proclaimed his own inno- 
 cence, or at least have reasoned on the charges alleged 
 against him ? Yet this eloquent man was dumb. He pre- 
 served to the last his mysterious character, and seemed to 
 die a natural death. The mystery ends not here : his dis- 
 ciples neither complained of his conduct nor sympathized 
 in his fate. His own disciples still carried their faith be- 
 yond their senses, and adored the man in heaven who, 
 they confessed, had died on a cross. Ilim they had fol- 
 lowed ; for him they had forsaken all. Them he had apjiar- 
 ently deserted, and left to the contempt of all men ; yet 
 they followed this man l>eyond the grave, to place him on 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 359 
 
 the throne of God. When the man was dead, those who 
 knew him best, who had been for three years his bosom 
 companions, worshipped him as the only true God, per- 
 sisted he was a divine being, and not only suffered mar- 
 tyrdom in the cause of this reputed malefactor, but in the 
 moment of their sufferings sometimes converted their 
 enemies to their own faith ! 
 
 Here an objection, indeed a powerful one, presents it- 
 self ; and that freedom of remark which pervades these 
 pages requires a serious notice of the objection. If the dis- 
 ciples of Jesus were at first credulous, and afterwards 
 fanatic, their conduct after his death was not only natural, 
 but politic. After the crucifixion, the disciples were on 
 the point of becoming the laughing-stock of all men. If 
 during the life of Jesus they were not only contented, but 
 gloried in the humility of disciples, how deeply must they 
 have been disheartened after his strange and unexpected 
 deatli ! If their pride and self-love had not been greatly 
 weakened under his discipline, their dubious feelings with 
 the help of a warm imagination would rise into the 
 fiercest fanaticism. Peter seems to have been the most 
 violent of any of the disciples, and most capable of lead- 
 ing an adventure. Is it not possible then, is it not within 
 the limits of probability, that some one of these zealous 
 partisans, when they saw the God whom they had wor- 
 shipped dead and buried, should propose the bold design 
 of establishing their novel system on its own ruins ? 
 Would it have been unnatural for them to say : " Let us 
 tell the world, and let us persist in it, that Jesus Christ 
 the crucified God finished his career agreeably to an 
 eternal decree, that his death shall prove the salvation 
 of all who will believe in his divinity ; and to inspire the 
 world with new hopes of immortality, let us proclaim his 
 
3G0 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 resurrection from the grave, and his ascension to heaven 
 amidst a host of angels. This doctrine of faith so agree- 
 able to the laziness of mankind, and this doctrine of im- 
 mortality so Ihittering to human pride, will gain upon the 
 world in proportion to our own apparent faith. We shall 
 first gain the ignorant and abandoned ; their sincerity will 
 supply new zeal. Afterward the wise will follow from 
 self-interest. " 
 
 A proposal like this might have arrested the attention of 
 honest men in like circumstances with the disciples ; for there 
 is but a hair's-breadth between fanaticism and falsehood. 
 
 An objection like this, which is entirely circumstantial, 
 if indeed it is a mere objection, is most satisfactorily an- 
 swered by a recurrence to the circumstances from which 
 it has arisen. It would be departing from the design 
 of this essay to give a full discussion to any objection. 
 However, I cannot forbear to observe that the evangelists 
 have candidly intimated the disappointment and doubts of 
 the disciples at the death of Jesus, and in the simplicity 
 of their narratives either did not anticipate any objections, 
 or, what is more probable, they justly reflected that their 
 own attempts to answer them would only render their re- 
 cord suspicious ; so that mankind are left to choose be- 
 tween attributing to the evangelists great simplicity or deep 
 design. Now, there is certainly nothing on the face of 
 either of the gospels which reveals the sjiirit of intrigue, 
 of enthusiasm, or of selfishness. Not Xenophon, of all 
 writers the most artless, has more simplicity than Saint 
 John. Hence if we cannot l)ring home to either of the 
 evangelists the charge of enthusiasm or of selfishness, the 
 objection loses much of its weight ; especially, when we 
 consider that one of the disciples, who was afterwards a 
 famous preacher, denied his association witli Jesus, an- 
 other sold him, and a third, after tlie death of Jesus, 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 361 
 
 proved inflexibly incredulous of 'his resurrection until he 
 was convinced by the most perfect demonstration. 
 
 This looks very little like a conspiracy of fanatics. 
 Fanaticism is all passion ; it is bound as with a chain to its 
 object. But the disciples, confessedly, were in a state of 
 despondency for several days after the crucifixion. Judas, 
 the treacherous Judas, was rather a calculator than a parti- 
 san. It may justly be objected that it is impossible to sup- 
 pose that the trusted Judas could follow Jesus one year, lis- 
 tening to his high pretensions, and, convinced of his divinity, 
 betray him to his enemies. This doubtless seems too absurd 
 to credit. Yet so is the fact reported. Still, Judas himself 
 will best answer this objection. " I have betrayed innocent 
 blood," said he ; and in the pangs of remorse casting away 
 the unholy profit, he executed martyrdom on himself, — an 
 act which bore witness for Jesus no less than did the death 
 of Stephen. On the contrary, had the speculating Judas at 
 any moment during his intimacy with Jesus discovered im- 
 posture, the crafty man would have raised his own reputa- 
 tion and acquitted a public duty in surrendering to the 
 State a dangerous impostor; while the credulous, disap- 
 pointed disciples, ashamed of the disgraceful catastrophe of 
 the wretch whom they had honored as Lord and master, 
 would have turned upon the corpse in silent indignation, 
 rather than carry on the imposture at such an imminent 
 hazard. Otherwise, defenceless as they were, they must 
 necessarily have effected everything by the force of speech. 
 Destitute of the swords of Ali and Omar, and hopeless of 
 the rewards of those conquering proselytes, the humble Gal- 
 ileans had to support two of the most difficult problems in 
 nature, — the divinity of a man who had been crucified, 
 and his resurrection from the dead. All this, without any 
 hope of reward, either in this world or the next, unless we 
 are willing to suppose the barren glory of martyrdom in 
 
3G2 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 ail unholy cause, or tlie dubious fame of giving currency 
 to a daring imposture could influence those poor, inconse- 
 quential men. To suppose this would surely he refining 
 on human motives beyond common experience. 
 
 " I am the man," said Jesus, and surrendered himself. 
 It is thought to be greatly to the honor of Socrates that he 
 disdained the proposal of his friends, who offered the means 
 of escape. The proposition was derogatory, and the refusal 
 claims no merit. Socrates was constant to himself (this is 
 high praise) ; but Socrates could not conduct himself other- 
 wise. There arc certain situations in which great men are 
 sometimes placed that forbid them to descend from their 
 characters. The sick lion suffers in silence, and calmly 
 parts with life ; and the eagle in his descent turns his head 
 towards the sun. It was impossible for Cato to live under 
 Caesar, or for Brutus to live under Anthony. In our own 
 times it was equally impossible for the virtuous Moreau to 
 live under Buonaparte. 
 
 The situation of Jesus Christ was different. His name 
 had not become familiar, like that of Socrates, throughout 
 the world. No oracle had espoused the reputation of Jesus. 
 His fame had scarcely reached Rome, and that in a private 
 letter. A young man like this might have fled from perse- 
 cution, though capitally condemned, and have preserved his 
 credit. To Socrates this was impossible. He could have 
 concealed himself among the Scythians, yet had he done 
 so the fugitive philoso])her would have forgotten that he 
 was once Socrates. Whereas if Jesus had fled, his more 
 mature years might honorably have retrieved liis charac- 
 ter ; and if he were innocent, it was his duty to preserve 
 himself, if ])0ssiblc, in order to illuminate the moral world. 
 Instead of which he Hung himself away. In the jn-ime of 
 life, without an effort, he Ihing liimsrlf away ; and with all 
 his faculties wrought uj) to their highest tone, he died in 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 363 
 
 a manner too unprecedented to bear a rational discussion, 
 unless we consider him an unfortunate adventurer. Then 
 the question which has raised this inquiry offers itself: If 
 Jesus Christ was an impostor, what were his motives ? If 
 he was an enthusiast, where were his passions ? If he was 
 a hero, where was his sword ? 
 
 The life and death of Jesus have marked his character 
 with too mucli precision to mistake him either for an enthu- 
 siast or a hero. The single question which will bear an 
 examination is, Was he a god or an impostor ? This ques- 
 tion, on which the character of Jesus must forever rest, 
 remains to be considered. I thought it more illustrative 
 and more logical to reserve this point for the conclusion, as 
 the preceding remarks on his life and conduct have natur- 
 ally led to this inquiry, — an inquiry which is exceedingly 
 difficult, and which allies itself to the feelings or interest of 
 most men. Hence liberality in research may appear like 
 levity, and the least bias will look like bigotry. This in- 
 quiry might be extended to any length, embracing human 
 nature in all its motives, windings, prepossessions and 
 self-delusions ; but the general reasoning may be confined 
 to a narrow compass. 
 
 Mankind have been detected so frequently in corrupt mo- 
 tives, and have so often suffered a dereliction from the 
 avowed ties of moral necessity, that a profession of virtue, 
 to the busy part of the world, has become more odious 
 than even wicked principles ; as herein the meanness of 
 duplicity is spared, and the danger of deception more easily 
 avoided. So that the cloak of virtue has become the baize 
 shirt of the sailor, — worn in winter to keep out the cold, 
 in summer to keep out the heat. This bias of mankind to 
 suspicion is further strengthened from tlie disgraceful con- 
 sideration, that every age, when time has illustrated char- 
 
3G4 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 acter and diiumcd the glare of greatness, has erected a hun- 
 dred gibbets for one statue. Hence it has become not only 
 a s])cculative, but a common opinion, that extraordinary 
 pretensions ought to raise extraordinary suspicion. This 
 belief is likewise strengthened from the fact that those 
 who are most conversant with the busy world, have least 
 faith in their fellow-men ; so that suspicion, wariness, and 
 circumspection have long since become a brancli of the 
 minor morals, called prudence, caution, and self-defence. 
 
 Nor is this suspicion confined to any particular class of 
 men ; the general mass of mankind, in the opinion of one 
 another, requires incessant watching. This suspicion soon 
 becomes a sentiment, a habit of feeling, and in the de- 
 gree a man's own head becomes gray, he thinks worse 
 of his gray-headed neighbor. Ilcnce in the opinion of 
 old men, the last generation is always the worst; and in 
 their fearful apprehensions the end of the world is a]> 
 preaching, — a sentiment that forcibly reveals their own 
 depravity. Fortunately, men rarely live a hundred years, 
 and more fortunately still, they lose their brightest facul- 
 ties long before that period ; otherwise gray hairs and 
 depravity would convey a like import. If youth is loss 
 susjjicious and less suspected than age, it is but a short 
 credit, which a little experience soon cancels. 
 
 Under a scrutiny so severe, he must be a wonderful 
 man who, rising suddenly from private life, asserts him- 
 self a public reformer, and single-handed tramj)lcs on a 
 nation's prejudices. The character of Jesus, not only in 
 his own day, but since, has borne this test, — the test of a 
 public reformer, and a man of exemplary morals : while 
 the charge of imposture or of hyjiocrisy has never been 
 fairly brought homo to him, although his pretensions wore 
 of the highest nature, and were considered by many as 
 proceeding from an imjtious arrogance. 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 365 
 
 Imposture has a cloak of many colors. The highest 
 kind of imposture is political. It is then the offspring 
 of a determined ambition, compelled for a time to smother 
 its fires. When successful, it is connected with a saga- 
 cious mind, steady resolutions, and a deep knowledge of 
 its own times. It is always full of intrigue, secrecy, and 
 boldness, accompanied with many of the best qualities of 
 the mind. In its object it may be defined as " corrupt 
 views to a corrupt end." Slow and calculating in its op- 
 erations, it feels its way, and becomes subservient to the 
 times. Unlike hypocrisy, which requires only a cloak, 
 imposture, more active, is in pursuit of some great end. 
 In the degree it is successful it ceases to be impos- 
 ture, by reason of the arduous task to which it is sub- 
 jected; for no man prefers to accomplish by fraud what 
 he can obtain any other way. We find that impostors, the 
 moment they were able, have universally adopted force 
 instead of fraud ; and hence the proclamation of Ma- 
 homet, in the full tide of his success : " The sword is 
 the key to heaven, and the blood of the faithful will 
 smell to heaven more odoriferous than frankincense." 
 Unlike enthusiasm, which carries its heart in its head, 
 and presses blindly forward, political imposture has a 
 tally for every step. The Macedonian and the Swede 
 were enthusiasts. They were not in pursuit of enemies, 
 but objects ; otherwise the Scythian and the Turk would 
 never have been attacked. Julius C«sar was an impostor 
 from the beginning, and calmly waited thirty years, until 
 the sovereign power, fearful of a renewal of the days of 
 Marius and Sulla, seemed to court his protection. The 
 modern Attila would have been an impostor had not the 
 exertion of an opportune force on his part and the love 
 of plunder on the part of the French people exhibited 
 him at once in his true character. 
 
3GG THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 Religious imposture is more direct in its aim, and the 
 enthusiasm with which it is always accompanied, gives it 
 an easy currency, and sometimes, in the end, conceals 
 from itself its own imposture. It is necessary that it 
 should have a new system or a new docti-ine to support, 
 otherwise it soon loses its glow of enthusiasm, and then 
 the charm dissolves. 
 
 To religions imposture an era of ignorance and super- 
 stition is necessary. An enlightened age never sees an 
 imposture of this description ; but the political impostor 
 will seek to accomplish his purpose in any state of society, 
 and is most successful in the degeneracy of a common- 
 wealth. There is no instance of a successful religious 
 imposture in a well-organized society. 
 
 Literary imposture, likewise, delights in systems, para- 
 doxes, and new theories. The boldest truths are often 
 thrown out in its extravagant pursuits. This species of 
 imposture is seldom dangerous ; its object is only a sud- 
 den and novel fame. The last century was remarkable 
 for a number of philosophic impostors. 
 
 If Jesus Christ was an impostor, he was doubtless a 
 political impostor ; although his reserved demeanor and 
 moral discourses exhibit an imposing religious aspect. 
 That grandeur of character, those strong and calm traits, 
 that habitual moderation and ready eloquence, that com- 
 mand over others in his most passive moments, and that 
 eager readiness to sympathize with the unhappy, which 
 is no mark of ambition or of enthusiasm, never yet dis- 
 tinguished a religious impostor. If tradition has given to 
 Mahomet most of these great qualities, history has also 
 given him the character of a soldier and a statesman. 
 It would be derogatory to the abilities of Jesus to rank 
 him in the class of sectaries. If he was an impostor, 
 his mysterious carriage and public discourses were well 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 367 
 
 calculated to gain an ascendency over the populace, and 
 this ascendency was but the nearest object in his ex- 
 panded view. 
 
 Let us now inquire if the conduct of Jesus can fairly be 
 charged with imposture. It must be granted that his- life 
 was clouded in singular mystery, and that the motives 
 both of his public and private movements were, in general, 
 inexplicable to his associates. How do we know that the 
 long period of his obscurity was not consumed in the con- 
 templations of future aggrandizement ? How do we know 
 that he was not studying the character of his times, and 
 cultivating his popular talents ? In retirement, Mahomet 
 formed liimself into the future prophet of Arabia ; with 
 nobler views, and though under the imputation of idiot- 
 ism, the elder Brutus was successfully planning the lib- 
 erty of his country. There certainly was, both in that 
 and in the times preceding those in which Jesus flour- 
 ished, every inducement for political adventurers. The 
 public mind was ready to encourage the most daring 
 pretensions. A long-expected and powerful captain was 
 to protect their declining fortunes in those particulars 
 so interesting to all men, — politics and religion. In the 
 ardor of expectation, the public was ready to add inspira- 
 tion to the enthusiasts, and the most active powers of 
 God to the impostor. The national ambition was inter- 
 ested, and the public, when they please, can deify. In 
 such times a great man scarcely earns his greatness ; the 
 public anticipate him. In all probability had another 
 great man, a crafty, prudent man, like Sertorius, declared 
 him.self in opposition to Jesus, Sertorius had preceded in 
 public confidence the more unassuming Nazarene. Hence, 
 in this respect, Jesus had much the advantage of Ma- 
 homet. It was the first concern of the Arabian to pre- 
 pare the public mind ; whereas Jesus, had his pretensions 
 
308 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 been even more suspicious, could not have anticipated the 
 wishes of his nation. 
 
 If the times were thus favorable to an impostor, and if 
 the private life of Jesus is not without suspicion, his public 
 conduct is not wholly free from mystery. 
 
 Why did he associate from the beginning with that 
 class of people who in a degenerate state of society con- 
 sider themselves outlaws from the community, with a 
 people so fond of adventure that it required only a beckon- 
 ing to lead some of them in his train, and only a single 
 discourse to fix them as partisans ? Why did he select 
 those who, though they left all, left nothing ? He had an 
 opportunity of winning one young man of great posses- 
 sions, — an ingenuous young man, naturally disposed to vir- 
 tue. Him he laid under what, at least in this age, may be 
 called an impossible restriction ; and the young man went 
 away sorrowful. Nor, if we judge that age by our own, 
 ought it to seem extraordinary that the rich, to whom Jesus 
 showed no courtesy, refused to mingle with a collection of 
 people who seemed to hold in contempt that selfishness 
 which the usual laws of property inculcate. The rich hate 
 abstract equality. On the contrary, if Jesus was an im- 
 postor, he wisely discountenanced the rich and the great. 
 These are generally timid, and can seldom be depended 
 on in the moment of emergency. Whereas those v.'ho fol- 
 lowed Jesus, having once pledged themselves, were retained 
 from personal considerations. Danger, far from dissipa- 
 ting, would unite them; fear would give courage, and 
 instant ruin, intrepidity. 
 
 There are a few other circumstances attending the public 
 life of Jesus, not wholly without exami)le in the lives of 
 other great men. His retirement to the mountains for 
 forty days gave an unnecessary mystery to his character, 
 already mysterious in the eyes of his own disciples. Yet it 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 369 
 
 must be confessed that the comparatively enlightened age 
 of Judea would have rendered this secrecy impolitic in an 
 impostor. Temporary retirement is a device worthy of a 
 dark or superstitious age only. Numa Pompilius, no doubt 
 an excellent man, gained much of his consequence from 
 the Egerian grove ; and the secluded character of Mahomet 
 threw a ray of divinity over the impostor. Lycurgus, too, 
 offers an incident similar to one which is said to have hap- 
 pened to Jesus. The oracle pronounced Lycurgus " Beloved 
 of the gods, and a god rather than a man." A voice, too, 
 proclaimed : " This is my beloved son in whom I am well 
 pleased." The sacred birds of the Romans, and the holy 
 dove afford but a partial resemblance ; and likewise the 
 dove and the milk-white hind of Sertorius. The entry 
 of Jesus into the temple and the expulsion of the mer- 
 chants bear a strong likeness to the entry of Cromwell 
 into the British parliament. These particulars are more 
 striking in contrast with the general simplicity of the 
 carriage and conduct of Jesus. 
 
 To all this and much more which might be objected, I 
 will only reply, that Jesus Christ, if he was an impostor, 
 was of all men most weak, inefficient, and wrong-headed. 
 Of this his early death and uniform eccentricity are suffi- 
 cient proof. On the contrary, if he was not an impostor, 
 he may be considered successful in an eminent degree. 
 Not Alexander, who in the intoxication of pride forgot his 
 father Philip, allied himself so equally to the Great First 
 Cause as did the Nazarene in his sober senses, and in his 
 most unpromising circumstances. Yet Philip, though a 
 conqueror, whose head above the clouds became giddy 
 from its own height, and whose eyes, dazzled by the splen- 
 dor of his own glory, saw not the devastation which the 
 print of his feet left behind, was but a laughing-stock in his 
 pretensions to his own creatures and bacchanals, while the 
 
 24 
 
370 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 Nazarenc, ready to become the servant of all, at the same 
 moment challcnt^cd unlimited faith to his sublime allin- 
 ity. Therefore if Jesus was an impostor, he was doubtless 
 unsuccessful. But if he was not an impostor, it is too 
 much to say he did not attain his object ; especially as 
 he himself indicated as much in his last expression, " It 
 is finished." 
 
 Who will say that Jesus was either a weak man or ineffi- 
 cient in his purposes ? That he was wrong-headed cannot 
 be disputed with the money schemers, the ambitious, and 
 the calculators on time and chance. But, however shiftless 
 Jesus may seem to the man of the world, and however weak 
 and unsuccessful he may appear to the politician, the mys- 
 terious and instant command that he exercised over his 
 numerous followers, himself professedly the humblest of 
 all, sufficiently marks the strength and power of his charac- 
 ter. Nor was he by any means destitute of address and 
 knowledge of the world. Ilis conduct in several in- 
 stances will best illustrate this strength of mind and 
 ready judgment. 
 
 His decision on the question of the tribute money, and 
 his rebuke to the hasty Peter, when he drew his sword on 
 the servant of the high priest, display a quick and prudent 
 judgment. But his question to the Jews on the baptism of 
 John, surpasses in sagacity anything related of Socrates in 
 throwing his adversaries into a dilemma. His reply to 
 those who questioned the propriety of plucking the jcars of 
 corn on the Sabbath, is a memorable instance of temperate 
 reproach. The young man, too, who went away sorrowful, 
 was the best possible illustration of the doctrine of grace 
 inculcated by Jesus. 
 
 With such faculties, all-essential to an impostor, and such 
 as might have commanded success in any of the usual i)ur- 
 suits of ambition, Jesus, although a pul)lic man, }»reservod 
 
THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 371 
 
 his original poverty, sought no offices, solicited no friends, 
 deprecated no enemies, and still claimed a share of the 
 Godhead. Although he persevered in this celestial claim, 
 he carried himself with so much meekness and humility 
 that his public conduct was marked by no human motive ; 
 for so little selfishness did the tenor of his life exhibit, 
 that his predominant passion was a secret to his own dis- 
 ciples : so if Jesus Christ was an impostor, we may boldly 
 declare that the secret of his imposture was buried with 
 him in his grave. 
 
 If such had been the extraordinary life of any other per- 
 son, his death would properly conclude the subject ; but the 
 life of this man, however uncommon, bears no parallel with 
 his wonderful destiny, — a destiny, which had it been dis- 
 tinctly foretold in his own life-time, would have required, 
 perhaps, as much faith to have believed it then, as is noio 
 required for belief in the record of the evangelists. When 
 the dead body of this crucified person was exposed to the 
 populace, could the faith of man be more severely tried 
 than in listening to the story of his future destiny ? It is 
 by no means incredible that a Jew who had declared him- 
 self the Son of God, yet being incompetent to support his 
 sublime pretensions, should lose his character, and sink be- 
 low the ordinary reputation of malefactors. But at that 
 period it must have seemed incredible to all men that this 
 person, whose fate was so contemptible that it did not ex- 
 cite the common sympathy of humanity, should soar from a 
 gibbet to the throne of God, should enjoy a co-equality with 
 the creator of the universe, and in the opinion of succes- 
 sive generations, should partake of divine honors both on 
 earth and in heaven. "Wonderful destiny ! that a man who 
 when among his fellows had no home, and when dead was 
 beholden to the kind offices of a stranger for his interment, 
 should, in leaving his miserable garments, his coat without 
 
372 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 a seam, to be divided among his executioners, ascend within 
 three days to heaven amidst a host of angels, to be wel- 
 comed to the throne of the Most High God I Wonderful 
 destiny ! that such a man, once the contempt of the world, 
 and apparently deserted both by heaven and earth, should 
 become the vehicle of all the hopes of the children of 
 Adam ; and through every succeeding age, whether dark or 
 enlightened, whether superstitious or philosophical, should 
 enjoy, as well in the palaces of kings as in the cottages of the 
 poor, the real or pretended worship of whole nations. 
 
 Such is the destiny of Jesus Christ, a man above all 
 others mysterious in his life, singular in the circumstances 
 of his death, and wonderful after his death from the influ- 
 ence of his character on the most enlightened parts of 
 the world. 
 
AN 
 
 ORATION, 
 
 PRONOUNCED AT 
 
 CHARLESTON N, 
 
 AT THE REQUEST OF THE 
 
 ARTILLERY COMPANY, 
 
 SEVENTEENTH OF JUNE , BEING THE ANNIVERSARY OF 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BUNKER'S HILL, AND 
 
 OF THAT COMPANY. 
 
 How deep the brave who fink to refl 
 With all their country's honors bleft ! 
 
 "^ Collins. 
 
 THE RUINS OF OUR HABITATIONS AND ALTARS MAY ARISE IN 
 
 TEN FOLD SPLENDOR, — NOT SO OUR LIBERTIES — 
 
 ONCE GONE, THEY ARE LOST FOREVER 1 
 
 By WILLIAM AUSTIN, A. B. 
 
 Printed by SAMUEL ETHERIDGE. 
 1801. 
 
CHARLESTOWN, Wednesday Aflci-noon, June 17///, 1801. 
 
 T^HE Subscribers, a committee in behalf of the Artillery Com- 
 pany of Charleslown, beg leave to express to you, sir, their 
 thanks for the eloquent and patriotic Oration which you pronounced 
 by their desire this day, and request a copy for the press; it being 
 the unanimous vote of the Company. 
 
 joseph miller. 
 
 john carter. 
 
 wm. h. manning. 
 
 wm. wood. 
 
 josiah harris. 
 
 Mr. Wm. AUSTIN. 
 
 Gentlemen : 
 
 The candor which you have already exercised, is again requested; 
 conscious of the rectitude of principle which influences the following 
 pages, I have only to apologize to the court of criticism. 
 / am, with much respect, 
 
 your humble servant, 
 
 Wm. AUSTIN. 
 Capt. Miller. 
 
 Lieuts. Caktkk and ^Iaxning. 
 Messrs. Wm. Wood, Josi.\n Hakkis. 
 
AN ORATION. 
 
 AMERICANS, fellow-citizeus, freemen! The respect 
 which a people pays to the memory of those who 
 purchased their freedom is the standard of their own worth. 
 That nation is still free when the people dare assert that 
 their fathers were free. If they know how to confess their 
 principles, they are not dead to their influence. 
 
 In obedience to the laudable custom of our country, 
 and to the wishes of a respectable portion of our citi- 
 zens, we have assembled on this anniversary to honor 
 the principle, to celebrate the deeds, to mourn the memo- 
 ries, but to glory in the fate of those who died for their 
 country. The occasion, the subject, the principle, the 
 scene, are all sublime, and worthy the highest style of 
 freemen. For if there can possibly be an occurrence ca- 
 pable of abstracting man from every selfish relation and 
 transporting him beyond the bounds of humanity to new 
 and nobler sensations, it must be like the present ; if 
 there be a subject capable of fixing transitory emotions, 
 of rousing the slumbering spirit of our country's love, 
 and of reminding a nation of the first motives which in- 
 duced the assertion of their rights, it must be like the 
 present ; if there be a certain principle thought sometimes 
 to inhabit mortality, and whose presence these heights, we 
 believe, once witnessed, if its influence be not departed, let 
 this day fix it forever ! If there be a scene in Nature from 
 which the patriot youth would wish to receive his first im- 
 pressions of a virtuous emulation, or from which the poet 
 
376 AN ORATION. 
 
 would vrhh to insure his own immortality, or which the 
 pencil of Trumbull would not disdain to color, or lastly, 
 in which the war-worn veteran would wish to find a grave, 
 — here lies that scene ! 
 
 Fellow-citizens ! the present occasion offers a subject on 
 which I know your sentiments will all accord — for who is 
 here who does not love his country ? — a subject, the in- 
 cidents of which will awaken the ready sympathy of every 
 bosom; a subject which ought to melt the frost of age, 
 and cause the current of its blood to ebb back to the 
 days of '75 ; a subject wiiich, I trust, will renovate those 
 feelings which inspired, and strengthen those principles 
 which asserted us, freemen. Therefore, for a few mo- 
 ments, let us give the present times to oblivion ; let us 
 forget the intermediate days that are passed, lest a dis- 
 cordant idea should break the charm ; let us consider 
 ourselves for a few moments — it is but a fiction — the 
 subjects of England, and become spectators of that scene 
 which we are so justly proud to celebrate, and in which 
 some of you were actors. 
 
 The situation of our country at the period wc now 
 contemplate, demanded the united energies of man ; yet 
 such was the discord of opposing interests that the wisest 
 cautiously adopted, or even positively mistrusted, their own 
 counsels, while the bravest either stifled or denied their 
 own feelings. The whole country appeared to be without 
 any distinct or particular object. Resistance was thought 
 intemperate rashness ; a separation from the mother coun- 
 try was a novel idea, and listened to with alarm and 
 surprise. The whispers of independence were treated as 
 the effusions of madness and desperation. Comjiare the 
 two countries, it was repeatedly urged. In one you be- 
 hold riches, power, unlimited credit, and the vigor of a 
 strong and well consolidated government; in the other, 
 
AN ORATION. 377 
 
 poverty, weakness, distraction, and distrust. In the one 
 you behold a self-supported and conquering nation, fresh 
 from the field of victory, in whose presence Europe trem- 
 bles, at whose feet France and Spain are still humbled ; in 
 the other, the feeble and abortive exertions of imbecility. 
 In the one you behold Hercules in the strength of man- 
 hood ; in the other, the infant of yesterday. The first 
 blow which the enemy will strike, will annihilate your 
 commerce, dry up the sources of subsistence, wither every 
 nerve of opposition, and insulate you from every foreign 
 succor. Wage a war with England ! England will not 
 believe you to be in earnest ; England has still so much 
 regard for your welfare as to lament the madness of the 
 enterprise. To her a tedious war might be ruinous ; to 
 America it must be fatal. In addition to all this, the 
 terrors and consequences of rebellion were impressed on 
 our minds, and new chains shaken over our heads. 
 
 The moment was now hastening when the overflowing 
 waters of bitterness threatened to swallow the whole coun- 
 try. A last and solemn appeal is made to Heaven, to Eng- 
 land, to the world. Heaven and earth, England excepted, 
 heard our appeal, acknowledged our reasons, and justified 
 our measures. "What were those demands that England 
 perseveringly refused until compelled to grant, together 
 with all her empire over these States ? They were surely 
 not unreasonable ; as subjects of England we only de- 
 manded the rights of Englishmen. These were refused. 
 Though England herself at this time was the freest na- 
 tion on the globe, yet like the Spartans, free herself, she 
 wished to enslave others. Sparta had her helots. England 
 emulated Sparta ; and we, — ought we to restrain our in- 
 dignation ? — we were doomed to be English helots ! 
 
 The moment arrives when military power wantons over 
 .our land, and oppression becomes multiform. Now rises 
 
378 AN ORATION. 
 
 the spirit of the country. Now appears man in his greatest 
 glory, struggling against inexorable misfortune. Now are 
 realized those scenes which degenerate ages had sullied 
 as fictitious. Now oppression is risen to its height. Now 
 is offered the last alternative ; the sword in one hand, 
 chains in the other. It is no time for counsel now ; the 
 present sensation disdains reflection. Interest, prudence, 
 calculation, consequences, where are they ? Forgotten or 
 despised. The breast is made bare to the sword ; the 
 chains are hurled back in defiance. England, we ap])eal 
 to thee once more, are we not worthy the British name ; 
 do we not merit the name of freemen ? Then recall thy 
 troops, disband thy armies, liberalize thy policy, ameliorate 
 thy exactions, give us back our liberties. It is not yet too 
 late ; sheathe thy sword ere it be stained in our blood, and 
 all may be well. Still inexorable I Must our blood flow ? 
 Then let it flow, even to the last drop ; let it be poured 
 out profusely ; let its stains be indelible ; let it redden 
 the whole land ; but it shall be mingled with the blood 
 of our enemies. 
 
 There are certain moments when it may be prudent to 
 act without any regard to circumstances ; when reason will 
 embarrass and reflection confuse. The present moment 
 must be instantly seized, and stamped with its appropriate 
 image, or in the next it will fade and become indistinct. 
 Such moments are rare, deejjly interesting, and always par- 
 take of the great and sublime. Such a moment is the 
 present, big with defeat, disgrace, bondage ; or victory, 
 glory, freedom. A moment similar to this our country 
 anticipated. The moment arrives; the case is desperate, all 
 is involved ; in an instant the die will bo cast and destiny 
 irrevocable. A moment like this miglit well arrest the 
 notice of man, for it involved the dearest principle of the 
 human breast. Europe did pause ; it was a pause honor- 
 
AN ORATION. 379 
 
 able to humanity. She fixed on us her undivided attention, 
 and gave us her best wishes. Her slaves feeling their own 
 chains lighter, kindled into sympathy, and must have ex- 
 perienced a transitory sentiment of liberty. Now are our 
 enemies in imagination triumphant, while our friends 
 tremble for the result. Both are equally astonished ; the 
 fleeting moment of our destiny is seized and immortal- 
 ized. Regardless of consequences, regardless of circum- 
 stances, regardless of life, all is hazarded. The first vein 
 which the enemy opens is to bleed seven years, and the 
 rankling wound is perhaps never to heal. An arduous war- 
 fare is essayed which might have appalled the hearts of the 
 stoutest myrmidons of Achilles. Still regardless of conse- 
 quences, the emergency demands, and every friend to his 
 country becomes, a soldier, and every soldier a hero. 
 
 Is this truth, my fellow-citizens ? If not, contradict 
 me. I speak in the presence of those who acted what I 
 am describing. Am I painting scenes which never existed ? 
 No ; here stands one monument of them. Am I relating 
 the deeds of a distant age, obscured by fable, magnified by 
 reason of their obscurity, and embellished in the wanton- 
 ness of imagination ? No ; I dare not depart from truth. 
 The date of these incidents is too recent, and the incidents 
 themselves too forcibly impressed on your memories to 
 bear the slightest exaggeration. The exploits of a Jason, 
 of an Agamemnon, of a Theseus and others, may well sur- 
 prise, it being uncertain if such characters ever existed. 
 Fable is ever fruitful, and delights in the marvellous. An 
 extraordinary man becomes a hero after his death ; and 
 perhaps in the next age this hero becomes a god. Our 
 felicity is consummate. While we relate the deeds, we can 
 point to the place, we can particularize the moment, we 
 can show the graves of the slain, we can produce their 
 bones, — nay, more ; we can produce the living characters 
 
380 AN ORATION. 
 
 which the grave has kindly spared, some of them to i)ar- 
 ticipate in those blessings which their sublime labors 
 purchased for their posterity. 
 
 The blood of our brethren which is first offered on the 
 altar of oppression, at the shrine of a fancied parliamentary 
 omnipotence, — that blood is not lost; it animates every 
 bosom, it circulates in every vein, it mollifies every humor, 
 it harmonizes the whole system. Already arc the colonics 
 united ; jealousies, aversions, local prejudices, partial at- 
 tachments, all vanish. Customs, manners, forms of gov- 
 ernments, religions, all assimilate. The flame of patriot- 
 ism spreads from breast to breast, from colony to colony, 
 acquires new strength in passing, and glows with equal 
 splendor in the South and North. The echoes of liberty 
 and of our country's love rebound from the mountains of 
 Vermont, shake the plains of the lowlands, and bound 
 back from distant Georgia. Already are the ties of con- 
 nection between the two countries dissolved. Now in 
 reality the broad Atlantic rolls between us ; we are already 
 the United .States, we are already independent. We need 
 not wait for the Declaration, — independence is already 
 declared ; the war is finished, — America is conqueror. 
 We are no longer subjects, but citizens ; no longer slaves, 
 but freemen. 
 
 England, farewell ! Thy influence is gone ; thy empire is 
 departed. Now look to thyself, England ! Why wilt thou 
 lavish thy blood and treasure ? Are the lives of fifty thou- 
 sand of thy subjects nothing? Are one hundred millions 
 of treasure nothing ? Oh, madness ! that treasure which is 
 lavished on our chains will burden thy own subjects even 
 to slavery. Look to thyself, England ! Avert, if possible, 
 thy own disgrace ; save at least the wreck of thy fortunes. 
 Why wilt thou hazard in America those laurels wliieh tliy 
 Edward and Henry won at the battles of Crecy and Agin- 
 
AN ORATION. 381 
 
 court in France ? Save thyself, then. Recall thy troops ; 
 it is not yet too late to save thyself. Tempt us no further. 
 We do not thirst for the blood of our brethren ; but tempt 
 us no further. In vain ! Still inexorable ! Still deaf to 
 the omens of the departing shade of thy own glory ! Oh, 
 heavens ! we have the secret, — England believes us 
 cowards ! ^ This is too much. If we could forget the 
 great principle which inspires us, we would forgive thee, 
 England, all thy oppressions ; we would despise all the 
 injuries we have received ; we would forgive thee that 
 blood which thou hast already shed : this insult should 
 annihilate every other passion, and we would bring the 
 issue to this point, — " whether or not we are cowards ! " 
 
 Never until this moment did I wish myself an English- 
 man. Pardon this seeming impropriety. At present, 
 would to God I were an Englishman, and one of those 
 who fought on these heights. Then might I be permitted, 
 without a suspicion of partiality, to attempt a description, 
 the merits of which you are ready to submit to the preju- 
 dices of an enemy. Then might I be allowed a statement 
 of facts which personal feeling would forbid to embellish, 
 but which honor would constrain to submit to truth. Then 
 might I be allowed, if my feeble hand could restrain the 
 daring pencil, to sl^etch the outlines of an action which 
 should be painted with the same passion with which it was 
 fought. 
 
 But tliis cannot be. Therefore let the veil of modesty be 
 drawn around this scene ; let a simple recital of the deeds 
 of that day be whispered in the softest strains of modera- 
 tion ; let us lull all our passions to a calm ; let our wounds 
 cease to rankle ; let us conceal our scars ; let all our enmi- 
 ties be forgotten ; let the grass wave over this blood-stained 
 
 1 It had been asserted in Parliament that the Americans were cowards, 
 and Burgoyne demanded only ten thousand men to conquer the country. 
 
382 AN ORATION. 
 
 scene, and hide its crimson soil from our eyes ; let us not 
 regard the flames of our habitations, nor the impious l)urn- 
 ing of our altars, — new altars shall be reared to our God, 
 new hosannas be proclaimed in new tabernacles. In this 
 temi)er let us tread the spot to view the heights, to con- 
 template the action, to remark the circumstances, and to 
 inquire the result. Let us be more than just ; let us be 
 generous. It is not inglorious to praise an enemy ; it is 
 not beneath the dignity of humanity to weep over his re- 
 mains. Then let us modestly hold the pencil, and trust to 
 his generosity to color the picture. 
 
 On the night preceding the seventeenth of June our 
 countrymen, in expectation of a new and awful scene, pos- 
 sessed themselves of these heights. The appeal to the 
 sword had been made in the last resort. We had purified 
 ourselves from the blood of our brethren ; and conscious 
 innocency disclaimed all responsibility for tlie conse- 
 quences. Under the command of General Putnam, a hasty 
 fort, breast high, was raised with an expedition which 
 spoke a resolute and determined spirit. The dawn dis- 
 covered to the enemy the busy preparation. Several Brit- 
 ish men-of-war had been stationed in our harbor. These, 
 in merriment and recreation, undertook to dislodge the 
 Americans, and demolish their fort. In the estimation of 
 the enemy, tlie appearance of the Americans on these 
 heights was a bravado. When they discovered tlioir mis- 
 take, they considered themselves insulted ; at length they 
 condescended to resolve the insult into a challenge. Howe, 
 the British general, was ordered l>y Gage, the commander- 
 in-cliief, to drive the rebels from their post. There were 
 at this time, not more than one thousand of our country- 
 men on these heights; yet the prudence of the British 
 general marshalled thrice the number to opi>ose us, the 
 flower of his army. lie knew the force of first impres- 
 
AN ORATION. 383 
 
 sions on soldiers. If the ground should unexpectedly be 
 disputed, if possibly a battle should be fought, it was all 
 important in its consequences that on this occasion the 
 troops of Britain should prove invincible ; and that in every 
 future contest Bunker's Hill should be to them the peean 
 of victory, to us the dispiriting omen of defeat. Awful 
 alternative ! The unsuspected bravery, the prescriptive 
 valor of the British veteran is to be successfully disputed, 
 or the name of American to be disgraced, the rights of 
 humanity to be derided, and the liberties of three millions 
 to be suspended in still darker uncertainty ! 
 
 Our countrymen await the approach of the enemy, lately 
 their fellow-subjects, perhaps their brethren. The regu- 
 larity, the order, the silence, the discipline, the dress, the 
 slow but undaunted motion, above all the reputation of 
 the British, add dignity to valor, and cannot but affect the 
 minds of those who, educated far from the noise of war, 
 never perhaps in imagination formed a scene like the 
 present. Unfortunate Americans ! you have to combat 
 not only Englishmen, but what is still more arduous, your 
 own prejudices, — prejudices which yourselves have cul- 
 tivated and fondly cherished ; prejudices which similar- 
 ity of language, laws, customs, manners, and every rela- 
 tion, commercial or political, have entwined round your 
 hearts, and confirmed into sacred principles. No wonder 
 if the Americans, tremblingly alive to such emotions, had 
 been completely vanquished, not by the enemy, but like 
 that early Roman ^ who, persecuted, oppressed, and driven 
 from his native Rome, waged war to avenge his wrongs ; 
 but in the moment of combat, affection resigned him a 
 prisoner to his country. No wonder if these vital prin- 
 ciples had involuntarily moved them to avert the mur- 
 dering firearm from the hearts of the enemy. No wonder 
 
 1 Coriolanus. 
 
384 AN ORATION. 
 
 if humanity had unnerved the uplifted arm, and paralyzed 
 every effort. No wonder if our countrymen had forgotten 
 both themselves and posterity. But the principle for 
 which they contended was too sublime to descend to 
 mortal feelings. 
 
 The enemy with a firm step and collected countenance 
 slowly, but resolutely, drew near the redoubt. The heights 
 of Boston and of the neighboring towns were covered with 
 spectators panting high for the result ; while the reflection 
 that a friend, a brother, a son, or a father might fall in 
 the action, solemnized the scene. The enemy are permitted 
 to ai)}»roacli until the deadly, unerring weapon is certain of 
 destruction. Now begins the conflict. The fire from the 
 ships, batteries, and field-artillery of the enemy adds variety 
 to death. At this moment, to heighten the horrors of the 
 day, the whole town is seen to ascend in one vast volume 
 of fire. Whom the enemy spares, the flames threaten ; 
 whom the flames spare, the fire of the enemy threatens. 
 Here is an aged parent like old Anchiscs escaping from 
 the flames on the shoulders of his son. There is a dis- 
 tracted mother inquiring after her lost child. Here is a 
 wife, already widowed, seeking her dead husband. There 
 is another in worse extremity, overburdened with three chil- 
 dren, only two of whom she can carry, — the third is left 
 behind. The battle still rages. An incessant stream of 
 American fire mows down the foremost ranks of the enemy, 
 while tlic rear advance to be heaped on the bodies of the 
 van. Thrice they retreat, and thrice do their ofticcrs rally 
 them with the point of the sword. Howe redoubles his 
 exertions, and not in vain ; his flying troops are once more 
 led to the attack. Warren the volunteer private, ^ though 
 
 1 Warren had been appointe<l on the preceding thirteenth of June a 
 major-j^cnoral, hut not to any particular command. On the seventeentli his 
 zeal led him to the scene of action, wliero he fell a private soKlicr. This 
 auecdote, so honorable to his memory, is not geuerally kuowu. 
 
AN ORATION. 385 
 
 a major-general, not less resolute, to equalize the combat 
 generously overleaps the redoubt and wages war on equal 
 terms. The American fire begins to suffer a relaxation ; 
 want of ammunition arrests the havoc of death. The 
 enemy are emboldened, and again begin the attack, this 
 time on three sides at once. Warren falls ; the enemy 
 are already within the redoubt. A retreat is sounded; but 
 the Americans either understand it not, or refuse to hear. 
 They still sustain the unequal combat ; their discharged 
 muskets serve them still as weapons. Emulous of Her- 
 cules, they convert their fire-arms into clubs, and still 
 sustain the combat; nor do they think of retiring until 
 the fort is in possession of the enemy. 
 
 The melancholy pleasure of counting the slain is reserved 
 to the British. They report the number to be one thou- 
 sand one hundred and ninty-three. Of these, one thousand 
 and fifty-four are their brethren. They were brave men, 
 and worthy of a better fate than to fall in such a cause. 
 
 Thus ended this famous battle, alike honorable to both 
 parties in point of valor, — not so in its consequences. 
 Those days are past ; let us for the reputation of Britain 
 deny her adoption of a new system of warfare which super- 
 seded the rights of humanity. Those days are past ; let 
 time mellow our resentments into civility and respect, but 
 never into affection. In the agitations of life, let us give 
 them our hands, but never trust them with our hearts. 
 The shades of these martyrs forbid the prostitution. 
 
 It has been hinted by some of our invidious enemies, who 
 neither fought nor saw the battle, that a blind and mad valor 
 possessed the Americans on this occasion. If this insult 
 had proceeded from those who survived the day, it might 
 merit an answer. Rather let us say that it was an intre- 
 pidity of soul which caused them to see danger as though 
 they were not exposed to it, and which led them to brave it 
 
 25 
 
386 AN ORATION. 
 
 as though they saw it not.^ It is the prerogative of true 
 valor to discover itself full grown ; it requires no tardy 
 progression. Discipline may direct it, practice may mod- 
 crate its vehemence, but it disdains precept or example. 
 The indefatigable Frederic could never fashion a coward 
 into a brave man. True courage is equal to all occasions ; 
 it is ever accompanied with a presence of mind which 
 coolly appreciates every occurrence, and which no novelty 
 of surprise can disconcert. Hence our undisciplined and 
 unpractised countrymen who fell on this hill, became 
 heroes in one day. They immortalized this scene ; they 
 severely resented the ungenerous aspersions, annihilated 
 the false suspicions of their enemies, and crowned their 
 country with that laurel which England had asserted 
 would not flourish in America. 
 
 The contemplation of those monuments of blood which 
 ambition has reared to vain glory, the celebration of those 
 victories which have made a desert of the finest countries 
 without benefiting the conqueror, may captivate the young 
 warrior whose sanguinary ardor already promises a revelry 
 on human misery. But yonder monument was not raised 
 to commemorate the exploits of ambitious violence, nor of 
 the adventurous warrior. It was not raised as a boasted 
 trophy of valor, nor as an insult to the shades of the enemy ; 
 it was not raised to flatter our own vanity. It was raised 
 for a far nol)lcr ]^urpose, — to honor and, if possible, to fix 
 forever that principle which actuated those who lie here 
 buried. No ; on our part it is a monument of principle 
 against oppression, aggravated by humiliating sarcasms 
 on the courage of our fathers. On our part we did not 
 shed the blood of England to serve the politics of a 
 
 ' Dufpiay Tronin avoit reou en partacje cette iiitrc'piditd d'ame qui fait 
 voir lo danger, comme si on ny etoit pas expose ; et qui lo fait braver, comme 
 si on no le voyoit pas. — M. Thomas. 
 
AN ORATION. 387 
 
 corrupt court; it did not flow in support of a house of 
 York, or of a house of Lancaster ; it did not flow to 
 gratify the pride of conquest. We did not like modern 
 gladiators sacrifice the blood of our brethren to amuse 
 the contending factions of ministers of State. On our part 
 we can lay our hands on our bosoms and call Heaven to 
 witness that the blood which stained these fields was jus- 
 tifiably spilt. On our part we can tread this spot with a 
 virtuous emotion ; and while we contemplate the battle, 
 the principle for which we contended stands ready even to 
 sanctify the bloody consequences. Yes ; angels would not 
 have sullied their native purity in pursuing to extremity 
 the principle for which we fought. Though they had shed 
 torrents of blood, and crimsoned over their spotless robes. 
 Heaven had discovered no blemish. Nay, more ; had these 
 heights drunk the last drop of British blood, had the 
 enemy's bones whitened all the country round, we might 
 have wept over them ; we might have cursed the unhappy 
 cause which roused the angel of destruction ; we might 
 have forbidden our own feelings to have triumphed over 
 the lamented scene, — yet we would not have abjured the 
 principle that should have triumphed over the ruins of 
 mortality. 
 
 Can there be one in this assembly who demands the na- 
 ture of this principle? Oh, shame! If he do not feel it, 
 why is he here ? If he do not feel it on this occasion para- 
 mount over every other sentiment, the indignant shades of 
 these heroes forbid us to describe it. In their name we 
 pronounce him alien to the spirit of '75, and unworthy 
 to appear among freemen. 
 
 Let us never, my fellow-citizens, define this principle ; 
 the attempt will only weaken it. Suffice it for us that we 
 feel it ; suffice it for us, that it appear in action at the call 
 of emergency. The nobleness of this principle has caused 
 
388 AN ORATION. 
 
 false patriots in every age to disgrace it ; hence many have 
 denied its existence, and have defined it away to nothing. 
 This principle is indeed too noble, too superior to the accus- 
 tomed feelings of nature, too sublime, to be common. Not 
 infrequently, whole nations are dead to its influence ; but 
 the reality of its existence is unquestionable. It has 
 appeared in the world in different eras ; it appeared in 
 Greece, — at Marathon, at Thcrmopyla3, and at the Straits 
 of Salamis. I do not know if it appeared among the Romans ; 
 for this principle is not ambitious of conquest, nor has it 
 any concern with politics, nor is it allied to motives of in- 
 terest ; it detests the bloody laurels of systematic war, modi- 
 fied into a barbarous commerce of loss and gain. Even 
 national glory is not its object, though national glory is ever 
 its consequence. It is indispensably accompanied with an 
 enthusiasm of valor. Yet valor is only a necessary incident ; 
 neither your Alexanders, nor Cassars, nor the Swede, ever 
 attained to this principle. It appeared, seventeen hundred 
 years ago, in Great Britain. In more modern days it ap- 
 peared in the United Provinces, and rarificd the congealed 
 blood of their inhabitants. It once passed over Switzer- 
 land, and in its transient passage left a lasting monument 
 of its existence. In a still later period it appeared in 
 all its glory, though unsuccessfully, in Poland, and glowed 
 in the breast of Kosciusko. Shall we dare speak it or 
 refrain ? We believe this principle appeared lately in Ire- 
 land. Need we offer another instance ? We might, but it 
 is unnecessary. 
 
 my countrymen ! excuse the fervor of enthusiasm ; 
 the occasion produces, and the subject warrants, the Avarm- 
 est apostrophe to the noblest of principles. Then let me 
 urge home this princijdo to the centre of your hearts. — the 
 lioart is its native home ; tlierc it must inhabit. That laurel 
 which adorns the brow of the hero, if not roote<l in his own 
 
AN ORATION. 389 
 
 head, will soon wither. So this principle, to ennoble man, 
 to redeem him from the dust, to fix his character, must be 
 rooted in his heart ; otherwise it is but a counterfeit, a 
 splendid meteor, aspiring indeed to a place among the 
 stars, but its earthly grossness shows itself long before it 
 reaches the pure empyrean. Without this principle you 
 must be slaves ; with it, you must be freemen. This is 
 really that magic wand which turns wretchedness into fe- 
 licity, the deserts of America into a paradise, and man into 
 a human god. Neither records nor monuments nor en- 
 gravings on brass and marble can preserve it. If you do 
 not keep it more sacredly, it will in time steal from your 
 Constitution, and then your government is already changed, 
 though your Constitution may remain, like the freedom of 
 Rome, engraven on twelve tables, an honorable monument 
 indeed to times past. 
 
 ye shades of martyred heroes ! we will not profane 
 this day, sacred to you, with a suspicion that you offered up 
 yourselves for one, two, or three, generations. The rich in- 
 heritance which you purchased, your early fates forbade to 
 enjoy. This inheritance came unimpaired into our posses- 
 sion ; and we trust, ever honored shades ! that the principle 
 which purchased our freedom descended with it ! Before 
 this principle wings its flight to more happy climes, we will 
 still testify so much regard to your memories, as to destroy 
 every vestige of this monument ; if we cannot remove these 
 heights, we will give them a new name, and erase from our 
 annals every remembrance of this spot. We will forget 
 that we once were freemen ; we will deny that any battle 
 was contested here ; we will deny that any such man as 
 Warren, ever died for his country. Yes, injured shades ! 
 oblivion of your memories, denial of your deeds, destruc- 
 tion of your monument, and contempt of freedom shall be 
 some little apology for us, before we deny the principle for 
 
390 • AN ORATION. 
 
 which you suffered. When those times come, — mortifying 
 thought ! — perhaps some one not wholly degenerate, not 
 perfectly renegade to the glory of his ancestors, whose 
 bosom still glows with a flame in some degree true to the 
 native fire of his fathers, shall tread this scene ; and moved 
 by the genius of the place, he will exclaim, " On this spot, 
 though the annals of the country deny it, a famous battle 
 was once fought in support of freedom. It is said the pride 
 of Britain was first humbled on these heights ; and that a 
 few brave men under the influence of a certain principle 
 now forgotten or despised, dared thrice the numbei^of the 
 enemy, and by their victorious deaths restored the falling 
 fortunes of their country. Somewhere on this spot, though 
 now no memorial remains, it is reported a monument was 
 erected to the memory of a hero called Warren, and his 
 compatriots. Such days were, though the date is now 
 forgotten. Yes, the feeling which the scene inspires 
 tells me such days were. Truly, our ancestors once reared 
 a most stupendous pyramid of glory on this spot, and 
 cemented it with their blood ; their posterity, an unworthy 
 race, have made a mockery of their principles, have de- 
 nied their deeds, have destroyed their monument, have 
 forgotten their memories, and denied that they once were 
 free." 
 
 God! before this period arrives, grant, — it is a last 
 effusion of earnest supplication, — grant that some friendly 
 convulsion of Nature may rend these heights from their 
 lowest foundation, and that the overflowings of the ocean 
 may embowel in the darkest recess of the sea all remem- 
 brance of our disgrace. 
 
 Americans ! "this cruel jealousy of your posterity is un- 
 worthy of you ; it will dishonor your own rejnitation. On 
 the contrary, we are proud to believe that as you in the 
 day of your emergency "rose frf)m defeat, and strengthened 
 
AN ORATION, • 391 
 
 while you bled," ^ so your posterity, if occasion should de- 
 mand, would on these very heights revive the days of '75, 
 emulate your deeds, bleed as you bled, rear a second 
 monument by the side of the present to the same prin- 
 ciple, and, in one word, renovate your own selves. No, 
 Americans I there is only one view in which we are willing 
 to contemplate this monument as having been reared in 
 vain ; in one respect it was prematurely raised, — the spirit 
 which it is designed to honor is not yet fled. 
 
 We have now secured the principle, we have seen the 
 action, and honorably repelled the insults of our enemies. 
 It now remains to honor the memories of those who 
 fought, who bled, who died, to repel the ungenerous in- 
 sults of our enemies, and whose deaths have hallowed 
 the scene. 
 
 The celebration of those who have fallen in support of 
 the liberties of their country is ever esteemed among free- 
 men a solemn duty, nearly allied to piety. In the rudest 
 ages this custom had its origin. A simple pile of stones 
 served both to memorialize their deeds, and to advertise 
 the traveller not to profane the spot, for it was holy 
 ground. The tribute which a nation pays to such patriots 
 is generally coeval with their liberties. When they cease 
 to be respected, it is already too late to inquire the cause ; 
 the reign of despotism is already begun. It is dangerous 
 to appeal to times past; it is the height of sedition, and 
 
 1 This line, so appropriate to the American character of those days, is 
 from Mr. Story, author of the charming poem on " Solitude," so well worthy 
 of the days of Akenside and Armstrong. 
 
 [The late Mr. Justice Story, a classmate of the author, in one of the notes 
 to his poem, entitled " The Power of Solitude," published in 1804, in quoting 
 from this Oration, writes : " It deserves remembrance from its impartiality, 
 its spirit, and its eloquence. It would not have disgraced the reputation of 
 those Grecian orators, of whom Cicero says, ' Grandes erant verbis, crebri 
 sententiis, compressione rerum breves.' " — Ed.] 
 
392 AN ORATION. 
 
 even worthy of death, to assert that Cassius was the last 
 of the Romans.^ 
 
 Americans, how ought you to feci ? Under your benign 
 government no honors are more highly esteemed nor more 
 liberally bestowed than those which are offered to the 
 memory of patriots who died for their country. How ought 
 you to feel when the principle for which your country- 
 men suffered, and to which you owe your past and present 
 greatness, allies itself to the religion of your country, and 
 is asserted in the sacred temple of the Most High? How 
 ought you to feel when the fall of those who dignified 
 these heights is not with their sons so great a cause of 
 regret as envy of their fate ? Happy shades ! you con- 
 vert our envy into the noblest passion ; for those who envy 
 you most do both you and themselves most honor. 
 
 Happy shades ! on the morning of that day which this 
 anniversary commemorates began your labors; before even- 
 ing they were finished. One day witnessed your glory ; 
 the same day it was perfected. Your laurels were green 
 on your brows ; they had not time to wither, and now they 
 never can. Happy shades ! you did not survive your 
 glory ; your passport to fame was through the splendor of 
 your renown. The moment in which you were all you 
 could be, you ascended to heaven. Happy shades ! your 
 monument is more durable than marble, more honorable 
 than any trophy which human art has yet raised ; yours is 
 erected in the hearts of your countrymen. Happy sliadcs ! 
 though you fell in the morning of the Revolution ; though 
 you were forbidden to swell the triumphs of your fellow- 
 citizens ; though no heavenly vision of your country's 
 approachiiitr liberty softened the agonies of death and en- 
 
 1 Creniutins rordus, an impartial historian, had hestowed euoomiuins on 
 Brntns, and callfd Cassius the last of the Romans. This was the height of 
 sedition, and tlie t'ause of liis death. 
 
AN ORATION. 393 
 
 raptured your departing spirits, yet you did not depart 
 without your glory ; you did not depart without your 
 triumph. The indignant genius of your country had de- 
 clared that her sons had lived as long as life was honor- 
 able ; you were demanded a sacrifice ; your obedience 
 consummated your glory ; your fall triumphed over death. 
 Happy shades ! though you fell among the first, you shall 
 be honored among the greatest of our worthies. All that 
 the living can bestow on the dead shall be offered to your 
 remains. Virgines, puerique, manibus date lilia plenis, 
 purpureos spargite flores, animasque his saltern accumulate 
 donis. The Muses too shall bring you their richest offer- 
 ings. The majesty of History shall dignify you ; Poetry 
 in your praises shall lay claim to new graces ; and Elo- 
 quence shall aspire to new pathos in painting to your sons 
 what their fathers were. Happy shades ! some bard shall 
 yet arise to do you justice ; some orator shall yet appear 
 worthy the subject, capable of feeling, capable of asserting, 
 and capable of infusing into every breast that principle 
 which you died to support. Happy shades 1 what more 
 can we say in your praise? All your own sufferings and 
 all the succeeding complicated miseries of your brethren 
 did not half satisfy the purchase which we enjoy.^ What 
 more can we say in your praise ? Should Heaven in wrath 
 sink us this day into slaves, we have already been free, 
 and you stand acquitted. 
 
 Citizen soldiers! before we leave these heights, permit 
 me to address one word to yourselves. While you testify 
 your own principles in commemorating the days of Amer- 
 
 ^ " A day, an hour, of virtuous freedom 
 Is worth a whole eternity in bondage." 
 Thus Roman Cato thouglit, and thus Addison spoke. If the sentiment be 
 just, our liberties were cheaply purchased with a seven-year war. 
 
394 AN ORATION. 
 
 icaii glory, your fellow-citizens arc not regardless of an- 
 other circumstance, equally interesting to their feelings. 
 How much is the pleasure of this day enhanced in con- 
 templating the most dignified ol^ject wliich a free jicople 
 can witness, — the patriot soldier, equally ready to take up 
 or lay down his arms in obedience to the laws ! Behold, 
 soldiers, what confidence your fellow-citizens repose in 
 you ! May you never — you never will — betray that con- 
 fidence. But if these States ever do lose their liberties, it 
 ■yvill be when the soldier ceases to be the citizen. Cherish, 
 then, the principles of your fathers, and in peace you shall 
 be regarded not as soldiers, but citizens ; in war you 
 shall be respected as the safeguard of the Republic. In 
 peace you shall repose under the wing of our Constitution ; 
 in war our Constitution shall repose under your protection. 
 May you ever be prepared to assume the soldier ; but 
 never, oh, never may you cease to be the citizen. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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